#Commission Agreement Forms

[bitchfitch]

quick q because a conversation I had with a friend yesterday made me realize a hang up I have might be an OCD thing that's not an actual problem in the real world.

[xxremnitexx]

🦇🌈🖍️xXRemniteXx Terms of Service & Client Agreement Form🖍️🌈🦇

These are links to my Ko‑fi Art Commissions, Ko‑fi Adopt/Adoptables,Terms of Service, and Client Agreement Form for my digital art commissions and digital art character adopts/adoptables.

You can check out my Ko‑fi Commissions at any time on my Ko‑fi or Trello as well as check to see what Adopts/Adoptables are currently available in my Ko‑fi Shop.

You can also read the TOS on Google Docs and read the CAF on Google Forms.

Please read through everything carefully and thoroughly prior to contacting me via e-mail, Ko-fi, and or Twitter to inquire about commissioning me and or prior to making any Adoptables purchases on Ko‑fi in my Ko‑fi Shop.

🌈xXRemnite Ko‑fi Art Commissions -

🌈xXRemniteXx Ko‑fi Adopts/Adoptables In Ko‑fi Shop -

🌈xXRemniteXx Artwork Terms of Service -

🌈xXRemniteXx Artwork Client Agreement Form -

[dark-moonlust]

Bound by the Rose Mark

This commission is owned by Kate Hart. As the original writer, I strictly forbid any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent.

Pairing: beast oc (Alaric) x f!reader

Summary: This is a story with Beauty and the Beast vibes. You live in a grand castle with a beast named Alaric. One day, you accidentally touch him and a glowing rose tattoo appears on your skin. Alaric explains that the tattoo is a sign of a curse that binds the two of you together. You can't get more than a few steps away from him without feeling pain and arousal. Forced to stay close, you both succumb to your feelings and the deep connection between you.

Warnings: 18+, mid-eighteenth century story, true love curse, beauty and the beast vibes, magic tattoo bonding, virgin reader, oral (fem receiving), foreplay and stimulation, p in v sex, big 🍆, belly bulge, knotting, lots of 💦.

I completely forgot to post this commission! Enjoy!!

Château d'Azay-le-Rideau, France - 1750

“Make it stop!” you groaned, wide eyes on the Beast, who stood calmly by the fire, his large, furred form casting long shadows over the walls. “Please, just… make it stop!”

“I cannot do that.” Came his voice, steady and infuriatingly husky.

The moonlight shone through the castle's grand windows, pouring glittering beams across your body as you paced back and forth, the tap of your boots echoing on the sleek floor. Your fingers moved nervously against the mark on your wrist, the delicate rose pattern twisting and developing, shimmering softly against your skin. With each passing second, the flower vines extended further up your arm, emitting a sweet warmth.

It all began a year ago with a professional agreement. The Beast was Lord of the Castle and needed someone to govern it. You were that person. You lived in his huge fortress and worked as his chamberlain. But what began as a rigid work agreement quickly turned into closeness. 

In the past months, you’d grown used to his company, you were after all, alone in a huge castle with no one but a few servants to talk. He’d gifted you his enormous library, a beautiful haven of literature. He also spent time with you every day, taking you on walks to the gardens, organizing big dinners, music nights, and theatrical nights. You’d been foolish to allow yourself to get comfortable, to hover close enough and be tempted to touch him.

But his fur had appeared so silky and inviting. What was one touch?

You'd succumbed to the temptation and touched him, curved your small palm over his massive arm. 

A moment later, all order unraveled. 

A weird tingling sensation had begun to emerge from your wrist, and as you looked down, a red rose began to light softly, its delicate petals winding up your wrist, its thorny vines snaking out, tracing your skin with intricate detail. The tattoo was enchanted and even now— it continued to spread on your arm.

Oh, how foolish and naive you had been! To approach him so carelessly, hovering so close that his mere presence seemed to draw you in. It was foolish to give in to your curiosity, reaching out to touch him despite the warnings. And now, this—this thing—was strangely connecting you to him in ways you couldn't fathom.

The Beast—no, Alaric, as he was once known—kept staring at you like an idiot, his sharp features unreadable. He didn’t even look troubled. Why would he be? For once, he wasn’t the one in trouble. He rather enjoyed it, wicked Frenchman that he was. Yet as you glanced at him, you felt another spark, a liquid warmth in your belly. His form, massive and imposing, stood out against the moonlight, making the entire hall feel smaller, more intimate.

Alaric had been cursed long long ago, cursed to find misery, coldness and no love. His face was no longer that of a beautiful Prince but of a beast with horns, sharp teeth and lion’s mane. He was massive and muscled, with strong legs and a wolf-like tail. His clothing was still royal, tailored to fit his form. He looked as elegant and well-groomed as possible.  

With an exasperated groan, you stroked your wrist harder, the glow intensifying with each stroke of your fingers. "Damn! Why doesn't it stop?! Please, stop it!"

He spoke with a long sigh, his voice low and rumbling. "I told you I cannot do that."

"You can't or you won't?"

"It's the mark of the curse…" His glance swept across your wrist. "There is no undoing it."

Your heart sunk at his words. You were aware of his curse but had no idea it could be transmitted through touch. Damnation! And damn the warmth of the mark, affecting your whole body. It felt warm and wet between your thighs as if a fire was spreading beneath your skin, connecting you to him. Every pulse of fire reminded you of your error.

“I… I didn’t ask for this!” you protested, rubbing at the mark as if you could wipe it away with sheer willpower. “I was just—just curious! I did not want to be cursed.”

“You touched me, therefore now you will pay. You are bound to me.”

You shot him a sharp look, waving your pulsing wrist in the air. “You could have warned me that I’d get cursed just by touching you!”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “But I did warn you not to touch me, didn’t I? You were simply too curious.”

“I thought you were goading me, challenging me! You didn’t mention the part where I’d be magically tethered to you like a pet on a leash,” you snapped despite the lingering warmth in your chest. 

“You are wild and untamed. Always speaking back to me, always doing as you please. It’s your fault, little one.”

“Still…” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “A little heads-up would’ve been nice.”

“Where would the fun in that be?”

“Oh, yes, this is so hilarious. I’m cursed with a pulsing tattoo— it glows like a freaking beacon by the way—and you’re not in the least concerned.”

“The mark will stop glowing once you accept it.”

“I’ll never accept it!”

Alaric sighed. “The curse cast upon me ensured I would never be loved. I was cursed to live as a beast, hated and feared... alone."

You gazed at him, the weight of his words hurting your heart. His formidable, imposing frame suddenly appeared fragile.

“However,” he continued, “there is a way… for the curse to wane. Not to break it entirely, but weaken its grasp. The curse weakens—forever— when I am touched by someone who genuinely loves me.”

“So… this mark…”

Alaric nodded. “It means you are the one fated to love me. And because of that, the curse has loosened its grip on me. Though I can never return to the man I once was, I can have love.”

Your eyes welled with emotion, but you refused to cry in front of him. “So… this is permanent?" 

Alaric hummed and stepped close, his towering frame suddenly feeling much too close. “I’m sorry… but you are now bonded to me, my thorny rose,” he purred. “Alas, you could have worse company, no? And the mark… I think it’s quite beautiful.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Beautiful? It’s so big and so… damn hot!”

“That temper of yours…” he sighed softly, in a way a beast like him never would. “Of course it makes you hot. The closer we are, the more it will affect you. It’s a sign that our bond is… flourishing.”

You blinked, rubbing your thighs together at the effect of his deep voice, presence and scent. “Flourishing? My wrist isn’t a garden, Alaric. This is my skin. And I assure you, it’s not supposed to glow.”

“We are connected. The curse… it has tied our fates together. The more we fight it— both of us— the more painful it will become."

You swallowed hard. “And if I… don’t fight it? Will it stop and leave my skin?”

“No. Never, little one. The mark will just settle there, binding you to me, fully and irrevocably. But… I’m afraid we cannot stray far from one another without feeling pain.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

His lips curled, showing just the barest flash of sharp teeth. “Immensely.”

Stupefied, you spun around, intending to get some fresh air but the moment you moved away, a sudden, scorching pain went through your chest, making you gasp. He was there instantly, steadying you with a large, clawed hand. You curled into his body, sighing pleasantly at the feel of his fur against your skin. It felt so good, warm and inviting, his musky scent tantalizing your senses. You hadn’t realized it but your hands were buried in his forearms, holding him to you.

“Foolish one,” he muttered, his breath warm against your temples. “What did I just tell you?”

“Alaric…” you sighed, meeting his eyes with reluctant acceptance. “Make it stop, please, make this ache go away.”

A low chuckle escaped him as he rubbed your wrist, feeling the warmth pulsating beneath your skin and tracing the delicate rose mark. The rose's delicate vines had wrapped themselves around your forearm, growing faintly. You bit back a moan, despite everything, you felt the pull—the odd bond that bound you to him, pulling you nearer to him with each breath.

“Ah, yes… it can be intense. Every step you take away from me will only bring more pain, more desire pooling deep inside.”

“Deep inside?”

Alaric raised a brow, a glint in his eyes. “Hmm, deep inside your cunt. I can scent your sweet arousal. Always could scent your need for me.”

You looked away. His words made you wet. Tenderly, he turned your face back to him. There was no hiding your blush or emotions.

“The curse bound us together. Two halves meant to be one. And if we give in…” he trailed off, his huge palm framing your face. “Would it be that bad?”

The tension in the room shifted as he stood there, with you in his arms, the strange pull between you palpable. Were you truly the one for him? Your heart stuttered. The idea of being physically and emotionally bound to Alaric—a beast of both grace and power —was captivating.

And the more you thought about it, the more your heart and body betrayed you. Oh dear… Yes, you wanted him. You wanted him with every ounce of your soul. Right on cue, the tattoo—its once glowing petals and vines now settled into a permanent black design that curled up your forearm. Becoming a part of you.

You didn’t resist when Alaric scooped you up, carrying you through hallways to his private chamber— a huge, opulent bedroom with polished wood and velvet furnishings, tapestries hanging on the walls, and a stone fireplace crackling in the corner. The bed was the largest piece of furniture in the room; it had a dark purple canopy covered in silk and velvet covers making it appear incredibly soft and inviting.

Alaric lowered you on the plush bedding and he came to rest beside you, his body half-looming over you, massive yet tender and protective. His eyes, golden and intense, settled on you then down to the rose mark. His fingers, clawed but surprisingly gentle, traced the rose before his tongue brushed a petal of the tattoo, feather-light, sending a shiver of electricity racing up your spine.

You watched, breathless, as he nuzzled and licked every petal, every vine, every thorn, his muzzle soft against your skin. The heat of his breath warmed you as he worked his way up your forearm, his mouth following the intricate lines of the rose, savoring every inch of it. With each kiss, your pulse quickened, your body shamelessly hot, your pussy dripping slick.

“Alaric…” you said in a sultry voice you could hardly recognize.

“Easy. We’ll take it slow, my thorny rose.”

As he said that, his lips hovered just inches from your collarbone. His tongue darted out, tracing the delicate indentation at the base of your neck. A sweet gasp escaped you as he licked a slow, tortuous trail down the round tops of your breasts, pulled up by your corset and your bodice. The laces on your bodice came undone, the corset disposed of in seconds as he skillfully drew the fabric down your waist, exposing your breasts to the cool air and his hungry gaze.

Your body arched closer to his, your nipples hardening into tight, aching buds. His eyes locked onto yours before he bent down and let his tongue trace the underside of each mound. You whined, burning so fiercely with desire as he licked the around your areolas. Teasing and exploring. Never quite getting to your sensitive nipples.

“Alaric,” you warned, thrusting your chest to his mouth.

“How I love it when you call my name.”

And with that, he licked one tiny bud, causing your body to shiver with want. Your hands gripped his horns, keeping him in place as he lapped one nipple, sucking wetly, his saliva and scent mingling on your skin. He did the same with the other nipple, and your body melted into his, hips arching up, breasts thrust sweetly into his lips.

You were lost in passion and he was only touching you.

You craved more. You wanted to touch, feel, and own every part of him.

Boldly, your hands slid up to his jacket, tugging at the heavy fabric, feeling its weight between your fingertips. You dragged his jacket away and he helped you remove it along with his shirt, without quite taking his tongue and hands off your breasts. Furry broad shoulders were revealed and a powerful, sculpted chest and stomach.

Large hands encompassed your tits as he growled softly and angled his head, his tongue trailing the curve of your neck. His fingers pinched your nipples, careful of his claws. Your breath hitched and you tilted your head back, offering him more.

“Oh god… yesss,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Blindly, you brought his mouth to you, needing to feel his kiss. But he hesitated, pulling back slightly. His golden eyes met yours, darkened with desire but shadowed with worry.

“I’m afraid… of hurting you,” he drawled. “I have no lips and my teeth… they’re sharp. I don’t want to—”

“Use your tongue,” you whispered, breathless, gone was the shyness in you. “Please.”

For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, but then, as though unable to resist any longer, he surged forward. His mouth opened, and his tongue, hot and insistent, swept across your lips before plunging deeply. Deeper still. He tasted you, swallowed your breaths, and pressed his moist and burning tongue against yours, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting through you with each stroke. You gasped into his mouth, the sound drowned out by the sheer intensity of the kiss, your hands grabbing his shoulders.

The sound of fabric tearing and garments hitting the floor was the only indication of what was to come.

The flickering light in the room danced across your flesh, both naked and unashamed. His body enveloped yours, his weight pressing down on you, his thighs spreading your legs apart. The sheer size of him caused your pussy to clench. His shaft was a massive veined rod of flesh, long and thick, with a knot at the base. His cock throbbed and leaked moisture, and his balls thick and heavy, hung like ripe fruit.

You couldn't help but reach out, a little bashful as your fingers stroked the silky warmth of his shaft. It was both firm and tender, as hot as touching a blazing flame. Alaric snarled and watched your small hands. You trailed the protruding veins and bulbous head all the way down to the bulging sac. He growled, his entire body tense.

“Such soft gentle touches. But I can’t—little one. I need to taste you, have you.”

You opened your mouth to protest but whined instead when his tongue licked the delicate folds of your pussy. Your body ignited, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. Spine arching, you opened your legs obscenely wide, his head buried in between, wet tongue consuming your depths. He thrust his appendage inside, snarling primitively, and you sighed delightfully, your cunt pressing against his mouth as you shut your eyes tightly and surrendered to the passion.

“Mmmmm, so breathtaking,” he drawled, his tongue gracing your cunt. “I love the rose mark on your skin but even more so the petals on your wet cunt… so lovely and wet. I love to tease and lick them.”

Eyes holding your own, he hooked his large hands around your thighs, bringing them around his furred torso. His dick, massive and twitching, stroked against the wet petals of your cunt. He lubricated himself; you were soaked and ready to receive him. You wiggled and squirmed, impatiently attempting to guide him inside. Finally, with a gentle nudge, he growled, and the broad popped in.

Cupped your ass, he pushed inside, his cock gliding into you in one smooth thrust. You were incredibly tight, untouched and you gasped at the slight discomfort of the invasion. Despite his size, he somehow fit, his body seemingly designed to mold itself to yours. Your cunt was stretched wide, only his knot showing, and your belly bulged slightly, revealing the curve of his shaft beneath your skin.

Alaric caressed your belly lovingly as if marveling at the sight. “Yes, mine. It will be alright. I promise you. Does it hurt, little one?" 

You shook your head. “Not anymore. Please… hmmm—move. Need to feel you so desperately.”

“As you wish, my rose.”

His eyes never left yours as he thrust out of you, all the way out before slowly filling you up. This time there was no discomfort, only building intensity. His shaft slid in and out of you, the friction reigniting your desire. Your body flexed, your walls squeezing around his dick as he increased the pace. His thrusts became faster and more urgent, and you held him, rocking against him as his tongue stroked yours, making you dizzy with desire. 

Alaric was unstoppable, unrelenting and soon you were both shuddering in climax. He thrust one final time, bottomed out inside you till his swollen knot had popped inside. You whined, muscles contracting around him, your cunt snug around his knot, tying you together. You saw stars, thrashed wildly in little aftershocks as he released, a flood of cum filling you up. It didn’t help that he let out those delicious growls, tongue devouring your mouth.

Time seemed to stand still. You lay there, with him atop you, his dick still pulsing within you, his knot throbbing with a slow beat. It had been minutes and he was still spurting, though slower this time. You basked in the afterglow of your passion, felt so utterly at peace. Your bodies had become one and the tattoo on your wrist had never felt so right.

You were his, completely and utterly his.

“How are you feeling, my thorny rose?” he asked after he’d rolled over so you were draped over his chest, his knot still hard inside you.

“I feel loved,” you said as you rested over his chest feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath the fur. “I have never been kissed or loved by anyone like this before—have never felt anything like this before.”

“There is no going back now,” he said possessively. “You gave yourself to me. What I feel for you is raw, primal. It cannot be stopped or contained.”

You grinned. “So, what? I’m just stuck to you for the rest of eternity?”

“Figuratively and literally, I’m afraid,” he said, groaning at the feel of his knot tucked inside your warm cunt.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

Alaric’s eyes softened. “I will never be the charming Frenchman I once was. That man’s appearance is gone, replaced by this… beast.”

Smiling, you let your hand reach up to touch his face, tracing the firm lines of his jaw, his fur silky beneath your fingers. “The appearance might be gone,” you whispered, “but your heart isn’t. Besides, I think I’m past wishing for a handsome prince on a white horse. French or not.”

A low chuckle vibrated through his chest. “You’ve got a strange way of looking at things.”

“And you’ve got a strange way of doubting yourself,” you shot back teasingly. “You might not be the Prince you once were, but you’re more than enough for me.”

“Don’t you regret it?” he asked quietly after a few seconds. “Mating with me? That I’ll always be… like this?”

“Oh, I am surprised but this is so lovely,” you murmured, hands caressing his shoulder. “It’s so lovely because I always wanted you to be mine. I've always felt attracted to you but was frightened to admit it. I was also scared you would reject me heartlessly."

“Never. I could never do that.” He took your hand, kissed the rose tattoo on your wrist.

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with love. “You are thoroughly mine, Alaric.“

For a moment, he stared at you and a soft, almost amused rumble escaped him. “You really are something,” he drawled, his free hand brushing the curve of your ass. “You’ve given me something I thought I could never have again." 

“I am yours,” you whispered. “I love you. All of you, my Beast.”

“I love you more, my thorny rose,” he said, his eyes dark with lust.

Smiling, you kissed and made love again —harder, hotter, and wetter.

THE END

[jpitha]

Stamina

Downtime on the K’laxi Starbase, and Kelly and Evan wheel their stationary exercise bikes out into the common area and start a ride. If they're not going to be moving anyway, they might as well have a more interesting view than the wall of the exercise room. Before their commission, they both loved the outdoors, and found friendship in trying to keep their two wheeled skills.

The bikes large wheels that hum and whirr as they pedal. After a short warm up, they both get into the rhythm of motion, enjoying the feeling of their muscles being used. To help with overheating, Evan set up a fan to circulate air on them. Evan was used to short rides, but Kelly wanted him to build stamina. She was even working out how to connect a sensorium so they could ride "outside." For it to be worthwhile, she wanted a long ride, so she was trying to get him to be able to finish a century - a ride of one hundred miles (an obsolete form of measurement).

After a few moments, some K'laxi stop and watch them as they work out. Kelly and Evan, heads down as they pedal, don't seem to notice.

After half an hour or so of pedaling Evan lifted his head and looked at Kelly. “You know what I’m sick of?”

Kelly looked up from her bike. “The whole Deathworlder thing?”

Evan nodded emphatically. “Yes! I don’t think it’s fair that everyone says Earth is a Deathworld. It implies that we’re some kind of strange being. It’s othering!” Evan was gesturing with his water bottle as he spoke. The K'laxi watching were focused on the bottle being swung around, seemingly entranced by the droplets of water that Evan was flinging around.

Kelly leaned up off the handlebars, but kept pedaling. She started counting things on her fingers. “There’s plenty of other worlds that have storms, plenty of other sapient peoples that are strong, lots of places with large moons, plenty of other places like Earth.”

“Exactly! They are working so hard to fit us into a stereotype, and then they don’t have to learn about us as individuals.” Evan's water bottle was just leaking now, and droplets increased. Kelly blinked when drops hit her face. One of the K'laxi took a step back.

As they talked, the crowd grew. Deep in concentration on their ride, they didn't notice the attention that they have garnered. A Gren in the back gestured with his mouthparts, and two others joined him. A small group of Innari fluffed their feathers in agitation as they watched the humans continue to spin. Even a few humans stood on the sidelines of the crowd and grinned. They wanted to see what the others would do.

Evan and Kelly pedaled in silence for a while longer until Pen couldn't stand it any longer. His friends nudged him and whispered encouragement for him to finally speak up. “You realize you’re having this conversation, on a K’laxi Starbase, while pedaling your excise bicycles at-" He looked over at a readout on Kelly' bike "-180 watts for at least one standard hour now?”

Even looked surprised. “We’re doing a century!”

"That's when you ride continuously for 160 kilometers or so." Kelly sounded matter of fact as she reached down and took a sip from her own water bottle.

One of the Innari squawked, “You’re not even breathing heavy!” The others around them bobbed their heads in agreement.

Kelly looked over at the Innari who spoke up. When they locked eyes, the Innari looked down, their feathers flat, embarrassed. “You know what? They're right, Evan. Time to step it up.”

As Evan grinned and pedaled harder, he looked up and finally noticed the crowd that had gathered. There were maybe 10 or 12 people watching the two humans pedal without going anywhere. Some in the back were having quiet wagers about how long they could go on. A human was collecting the bets, not even trying to hide her smile.

The murmurs of the crowd finally got the better of Kelly. "Just what... are you all... doing here?" Kelly panted.

"Um.. just watching you pedal?" A young K'laxi in the front offered and took a nervous step back.

"I can see that, but why?"

"You're riding so much and you aren't even tired!" Another in the back added.

Nods and noises from assent from the crowd. They watched, fascinated as the human's active cooling started kicking in and they both developed a sheen of... liquid on their skin. They called it sweating. The K'laxi called it weird. The Innari called it disgusting.

A Gren on the side of the crowd joined in. "Yeah! How long can you go? I've got 30 stars with Mel'itar that says you can't go the full 160 kilometers without stopping."

A Sefigan near the front frowned and looked like he was having a conversation with his translator. “My translator says a century is 100, but you’re doing 160km?”

Evan sighed. “160 kilometers is 100 miles. That’s the century”

"What's a mile?" A K'laxi child from the crowd interrupted. Sounds of assent from the crowd.

"Old measurement. We don't use it anymore." Kelly finally started to sound like she was having difficultly speaking while she was exerting herself, a good while after Evan started breathing heavily.

The same Innari that spoke up earlier - Soft Autumn Breeze - stared at them out of one eye, and then the other. "You're pedaling the equivalent of one hundred sixty kilometers In one session?” It sounded like they were amazed in addition to being frustrated. Soft worked with Evan in the greenhouse, but had no idea he did... this in his spare time. It was perplexing. All this work and effort for no reason?

“Yeah” Kelly said between breaths “doesn’t count if you stop and take a break.”

Evan used his nearly empty water bottle to point at the Innari. "You're making it sound weird Soft, it's not weird."

"Evan, it is weird." Soft said, emphatically. "What you're doing is weird. You're... pretending to ride a two wheeled sapient powered conveyance on a starbase for an unreasonably long distance without stopping. If I tried that - even if you built one of those... things that fit my leg geometry, I'd collapse and die within two standard hours."

"Soft, I am riding it, it's not pretending." Evan countered.

"We're not going anywhere though, maybe that's what he means." Kelly said.

Evan shrugged. "Well, he should have said that."

By now, the crowd had started to argue about how long each species could last riding a bike. Most agreed that the humans would out-ride them full stop, but both the Gren and the Sefigans felt they could give a real challenge... for the first few hours at least. One of the humans in the crowd started taking measurements, and was designing a bike that could be printed for other species to ride. After a while a whole spin class was being set up.

Soft opened his mouth and clacked shut it again. His feathers fluttered in frustration, and he sighed dramatically. He turned around and walked away from the crowd. “Deathworlders” he muttered.

"Hey Soft, don't use that word, remember the training? The humans find it hurtful." Another Innari said as he walked by.

"Argh!" Soft stomped away as the noise of the crowd dissipated.

[lockes-woods]

Kinktober '24 Day 11

Request: Would love to see some Fatgum x reader breeding kink shenanigans? Fatgum’s defensive abilities would make for a great quirk marriage scenario

Requested by: CherryDad (AO3)

WARNINGS: PIV, Oral (f! Receiving), cream pie, size difference, breeding kink

A/N: This is gonna be another morning edit for sure.

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

You sighed to yourself as you sat perched on the edge of your couch. You could feel your anxiety manifest in your gut, as you waited for your ‘husband’ to come home from patrol. It had been just over a year since the hero commission announced their new program of forming a new hero bond for the future from preexisting ‘relations’. In so many words the hero commission was revitalizing the archaic practice of quirk marriages. Last year every hero from the top 100 heroes was sent a list of approved ‘partners’ for them to choose from. You were one of the lucky ones in that fact that you actually knew, well had known, your top approved mate.

You have a fat-based quirk, you are able to manipulate and create on a cellular level of all living things. When healing you do not only rely on the energy, and body fat, of the person you are healing, but also tap into your own energy to aid others. Based on the nature of your quirk, your top match was Fatgum, or Taishiro Toyomitsu.

 You have known Taishiro since your time at UA. He was two years ahead of you, but because of the caloric nature of your quirks, you were on a strict high caloric intake. You often crossed paths when working on meal alternatives with the support lab. He had mentored you in a way, you weren’t sure if he even remembered the conversation, but he helped you feel less self-conscious about your body size. Because of the nature of your quirk, you were almost always sitting at a weight deemed ‘unhealthy’. The label of unhealthy, stuck with you so badly while you were still a teenager, that you stopped the overeating necessary to be able to use your quirk effectively. You began to work yourself to the literal bone, often passing out, just to maintain a ‘healthy’ image. When Taishiro caught wind of this, he pulled you aside and encouraged you to do everything in your power to aid the most amount of people, even if it meant being shamed by the media for encouraging an ‘unhealthy’ standards for young people. You don’t think even if he remembered the conversation he ever realized the impact that one talk had on you. Or how his kindness led to you having a not-so-small crush on him that carried onto adulthood.

You had lost touch with him after he set up his hero agency in Esuha City. While you were still on good terms and were friendly with each other you had drifted apart as people often do while growing up. You were never nailed down by any agency. You worked as an independent contractor that agencies could lease. Your nickname as the ‘One Women Hospital’ proceeded you: making you a fought-over strength to any agency. Your normal clientele were heroes in the top 10. You loved your life and independence, that was until the hero commission brought your normalcy to a halt with their sudden decision to bring back and enforce quirk marriages.

You would never feel as relieved as you were when Taishiro accepted your request of marriage. It was a huge relief off your chest of the fear of being randomly assigned to not only marry a stranger but also carry the minimum of one of their children. That’s what led you here to tonight, pacing in Tai’s home, waiting impatiently for him to get off of work. You had been married a little more than a month at this point but hadn’t consummated the marriage. Fuck, you hadn’t even kissed outside of your wedding. Coitus was only mandatory while you were ovulating like you were today.

You couldn’t help but feel uneasy. You both had been working your normal hours since the wedding, there was a silent agreement that you wouldn’t worry about the act itself until you had to. You had already pushed down your schoolgirl crush on Tai. He was one of the most genuine people you had met, and kind to a fault. Outside of his personality, he was so handsome to you in either of his forms. You hope if you were to have kids they’d inherit his lovely golden eyes and bright smile. Despite those nice images your nerves still stood strong. How would you even go about being intimate, but still remain on the same terms? That’s of course only if he wanted to have sex; technically he just had to cum inside of you. Would he want that?  Just as you felt yourself bordering on a spiral you heard him entering the house.

“Hey,” he greeted with his normal chipper smile. He was in his skinny form, which while smaller than his fat form of 8’2”, was still huge. He easily towered over you standing at a minimum of 7 ft.

“Hey,” you greeted back shyly. You were in your normal lounge clothing of an oversized t-shirt paired with a well-loved pair of cotton sleep shorts and fluffy socks. You had debated dressing up special for tonight, but you didn’t want to make this any weirder than the situation already was.

“How was work?” you asked,

“Good, it was a slower day, there was only one incident of bank robbing, so I mostly just worked on paperwork.” He answered smiling down at you, “How was your day off?”

“Good, I ate at my favorite café and read for a but before going to the doctor’s.” you answered.

“How was your appointment?” he asked.

“Good, they did a blood and urine test. I’m definitely ovulating today.” You responded.

“Alright,” Taishiro nodded, “When did you want to…” he started before trailing off, both of you walking on eggshells as you attempted to not offend or make the other uncomfortable.

“I guess sooner than later,” you answered, in a noncommittal tone, “I guess we should talk about how you want to go about this. Are you okay with sex, or do you just want to cum in me-”

You stood in shock as he pulled you in for a surprisingly soft kiss. You gasp, your eyes widening, before easing shut. It felt like your brain shut off as Tai pressed you firmly against the counter and he deepened the kiss. You let him dominate the kiss, a whine escaping you as he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours.

“Fuck, sorry,” he said, panting lightly, “I couldn’t hold out any longer.” He confessed. Before he could explain any further you fisted the front of his jacket and pulled him in for an equally demanding kiss. He let out a surprised groan, melting into the kiss as he pulled you close, holding you in his arms.

“Fuck,” he groaned as you pulled back, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He admitted bashfully. You hummed in response.

“It has been a long month,” you agreed.

“No, baby, I’m talking years,” he elaborated, blush staining his cheeks.

“Oh,” you said dumb found, “I didn’t-, I always thought that-, that you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

“Baby, I’ve been holding a torch for you since we met. I just didn’t want you to feel pressured when I was your senpai.” He admitted, “And then after I graduated, my biggest regret was not telling you how I felt.” He took a breath before saying, “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same-”

“How could I not feel the same way.” You cut him off with a smile, “You were my senpai, you were one of the first people to make me feel of value despite the number on the scale.”

“Fuck, you have no idea how relieved I was when I found out my top match was you,” he confessed, looking down at you fondly.

 “I know we have to talk about this more, but the doctor gave us an hour window, and it’s starting soon.”

“Okay,” he nodded, there was nothing you or anyone else could do to wipe the smile off his face.

“Are you okay with us having sex?” you question.

“Baby, I’ll take whatever you give me,” he answered honestly.

“O-Okay,” you nodded your nerves returning, “Do you want to-, Or should we-, um is the bedroom okay?” you fought to get out.

“The bedroom sounds perfect love,” he replied, before scooping you up in his arms. You let out an “Eep,” as he walked up to his bedroom and softly laid you in the center of it.

“Do you have any hard stops?” he asked, tugging not only his sweatshirt over his head, but his shirt as well. You unconsciously bit your lip, taking in his toned form.

“Baby,” he said, pulling your attention back away from his body.

“Hmm?” You replied.

“I was asking if you had any hard stops,” he repeated, amused.

“Any body fluids outside of cum and spit,” You answered, “I also don’t feel comfortable with consensual non-consensual.”

“Okay,” he nodded, working at his belt.

“You?” you asked.

“The same,” he nodded, “My safe word is takoyaki. Yours?”

“Code,” you answered eyes locked in on his jeans sliding down revealing the large hard-on pressing against the front of his underwear, your eyes widened as he eased himself out of his boxer briefs. You knew objectively he was going to be big, but you didn’t realize how proportional he would be. You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together needily as he began to crawl up his bed towards you.

“Aw, are you feeling needy baby?” he asked teasingly. All you could do was let out a whine as he began helping you out of your shorts, “Can’t have my wife go unsatisfied.”

You could feel your heart rate go up at him casually call you, his wife. Normally you may find it a bit cringy, but his genuine tone made you feel butterflies. He helped you out of your shirt next, leaving you bare. He pulled you into a soft kiss, before slowly making his way down your body. He pulls a whine from your throat as he nips and sucks at your nipples. He takes his time, only making you more desperate.

“Fuck, Tai, please,” you plead with him

“Please, what love?” he asked, looking up at you with a smirk, making your stomach flip. You’d never seen his face without his sweet smile.

“Please, I need you,” you beg, “Need you so bad.”

“Oh, and where do you want me baby?” he asked, teasingly.

 “Lower, please” you beg, getting more and more desperate.

“Down here?” he asked, stroking your inner thigh.

“Fuck, yes.” You said tears of frustration gathering in the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t help but moan as he separated your lower lips. A whine escaped you from the contrast of the cool air in the room and Taishiro’s hot breath against your clit. He didn’t give you any warning before he dove in. You were left a moaning mess, as his fingers stretched you to your limit, while he sucked on your clit. You threaded your fingers through his surprisingly soft hair, tugging on it hard and harder the closer you got. You let out a guttural moan tugging hard on his hair so that he was flush with your pussy. He narrowly avoided getting crushed by your thighs as he angled his shoulders to keep your thighs open. He fingered you through your orgasm, whispering prairies against your skin. Your grip loosened as you fell back onto the bed limp as you came down from your height.

“Ready, love?” he asked, wiping the excess of your release off his face with the back of his hand.

“Please,” you answer, still feeling desperate, despite just coming down from your high.

“Okay,” he said, grasping his cock to give it two hard strokes before sliding it up and down your slit to collect your excess release, before thrusting his tip inside, Taishiro hissed at his first time breaching your walls, He slowly rocks you back and forth thrusting a bit more of himself each time as he bottomed out. He stayed there for a second before you whined craving more stimulation.

“Just, can’t get enough can you love?” he teased, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in, knocking the wind out of you. You share a moan as he begins to pick up speed.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “Can’t wait to see you if it takes. Fuck you’re gonna be all round and plush when it comes.” You both moaned shamelessly.

“Fuck, need it Tai, fuck, need it so bad,” you blathered seconds before clenching around him in a throat. “Wanna be full, please,” you pleaded desperately. “Want it, want it so bad, please fuck. I wanna have your kids.”  

“Fuck,” Taishiro groaned, His hips stuttering as he came in you. You both shared a moan, staying still for a moment before your little bubble of peace is ruined by the sound of a phone ringing. You ignore it for a moment before rolling over and seeing a slew of messages from different agencies. He pulled you tight back against his chest.

“You’re not leaving until we know it takes.” He said staring down at you; dead serious. You couldn’t help but gasp as she felt his cock once again stir against your back. He pulled you in for a loving kiss, as he eased your phone out of your hands. He quickly clicked on airplane mode, before tossing your phone aside. You let out a pleasant sigh, as your lips once again found each other and he pulled you back so you were straddling his abs once again; ready for the next round.

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

MASTERLIST

A/N: K, officially broke the streak. Hoping to have this edited in the morning along with a TA! Shikamaru x Student! Reader one shot.

[captainmalewriter]

Superstar

Commission Story

“Dude check out my sweet pump! I swear to God I’m getting bigger!” 

Xavier was checking himself out in the mirror while his best friend Carlos sketched something on a legal pad on the nearby living room couch. Carlos stopped drawing for a brief second and looked over at Xavier with lazy eyes.

“Yeah man, you’re getting real massive now,” Carlos lied. Xavier’s bicep looked exactly the same as the last time he checked. “Maybe I’ll ask you to spot me the next time I go for a PR.”

“Alright alright, cut the crap,” Xavier rolled his sleeves back down. “I can do without the teasing, thanks.”

“No I’m serious, X! You’re starting to look like me! C’mon, let’s compare sizes real quick.”

Carlos hopped off the couch and joined Xavier before the full-body mirror. He then took off his shirt in one smooth motion and flexed his muscular torso. 

Having been in various sports throughout his life, Carlos boasted an impressive physique. He had strong, broad shoulders and absolute cannons for arms. Carlos took up most of the mirror space when he posed, which forced Xavier to step to the side. Having seen the same body repeatedly throughout the years, Xavier was no longer impressed by his friend’s athletic build.

“Nah, you’re still pretty small.”

Xavier poked Carlos at his side, where he knew he was most ticklish. Carlos jabbed Xavier in retaliation. Xavier returned the hit in kind. They would then continue exchanging blow for blow, hitting each other’s ticklish spots until one of them eventually called uncle. This was a game they frequently played ever since they first became friends.

Carlos and Xavier had first met in middle school when they sat next to each other in art class. They formed a homework pact soon after first meeting each other. Xavier helped Carlos with his science homework, while Carlos helped Xavier with his drawing assignments. Their mutual agreement led to them becoming best friends. On the outside, they looked like a stereotypical duo that would typically be at odds— Xavier being the scrawny, gay nerd while Carlos was the conventionally handsome, popular athlete, but anyone who knew either of them knew they had a lot of love for each other. Nowadays, even though they attended different colleges, they would still make time to hang out with each other often. Theirs was a friendship that survived the test of time.

“Alright alright, enough!! You win!” Xavier called out. They were both out of breath and red in the face after roughhousing, but that didn’t stop them from sharing a laugh and a bro hug. 

Their loud, combined laughter stopped them from noticing when Carlos’ father, Enrique, arrived home from work. Enrique looked at them with a scowl plastered on his face. Xavier and Carlos both immediately stopped laughing when they noticed him. Carlos felt a cool breeze on his exposed skin, then hurried to put on his shirt, remembering he was shirtless.

“Dad!” Carlos said while slipping his shirt back on. “You’re home early—”

“What are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be at summer practice already?” 

“Not yet I don’t, practice doesn’t even start for another two hours!”

“What kind of loser talk is that?” Enrique crossed his arms and shook his head in disappointment. “How do you expect to stay ahead of everyone else if you’re not out on the field putting in the extra hours?”

“I’m fine, Dad, I don’t need extra practice hours.”

“Psh, that’s how it always starts. First, you stop going to practice early. Next, you stop going at all. Then, you start getting less and less playing time because you’re not playing as good as you once were. You’re going to lose your scholarship, Carlitos, is that what you want!?”

Xavier noticed Carlos’ eyebrows beginning to furrow and stepped in before he could respond. 

“Hey, let’s just get going. Don’t wanna catch the midday traffic after all.”

Xavier helped himself out while Carlos lagged behind. Carlos gave his father one last cold stare, then began walking out. Enrique stepped towards him as he did so.

“And I want you to stop hanging out around that queer. He’s going to make you weak.”

Carlos stopped once he heard what his father whispered into his ear. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. He wanted to retaliate but couldn’t find the words to do so. All he could do was listen to his father’s dress shoes echoing down the hallway as he left. Carlos cleared his throat and went for his car, where Xavier was already waiting in the passenger seat.

The car ride to Carlos’ college, where summer practice was being held, started off silent and tense. Xavier looked over to his buddy as he drove them down the freeway. He knew Carlos wasn’t the type to show his emotions often, but he knew the dilemma over rugby and his father was eating him alive inside. 

“Hey… Sorry about your Dad. He sucks.”

“Hmph, don’t be. You know he’s always been like that, I’m used to it,” Carlos responded. 

“I know, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep putting up with it. You need to tell him that you wanna pursue art.”

“It’s not that easy—”

“Why not?”

“Dude, c’mon, you know my Dad doesn’t give a fuck about my art. He just wants me to focus on rugby so I can keep my scholarship.”

“Well, can’t you just switch your program of study? He doesn’t have to know!” Xavier teased. Carlos didn’t laugh.

“Can’t. The school won’t allow it. Student athletes can only be in certain programs and art isn’t one of them.”

Xavier wanted to offer a rebuttal but couldn’t think of anything they hadn’t already considered. He stayed quiet and shrunk into the leather cushion of the passenger seat.

“You know, maybe my Dad’s right,” Carlos started. “There are worse things in life than being forced to play rugby. Besides, imagine all the money I’ll earn once I go pro. Maybe sticking with sports is the right call.”

“Dude, what about your art? Art can make you money too! I’ve seen your drawings and paintings, you’ve got talent! You can make it big, even bigger than with rugby!”

“You don’t know that,” Carlos sighed heavily as he stopped at a red light coming off the freeway. “I’m not saying I’ll stop drawing completely, but maybe that shouldn’t be the focus of my life right now. I need to stay in perfect shape if I wanna go pro with rugby.” Carlos turned his head to Xavier and held eye contact with him. His gaze softened. 

“I appreciate you looking out for me, X, but I really don’t think art is in the cards for me. It’s gonna take a miracle to change my Dad’s mind, and I just don’t think it’s gonna happen.” 

Xavier stayed quiet but gave an affirming nod, then looked away. As they pulled into campus, he pointed to the library.

“Drop me off there, I wanna check out some books,” Xavier said. Carlos did as requested.

“You’ve been hanging out at the library a lot lately. You’re not even a student here, what are you doing there?”

“Your school’s got an interesting collection on the history of alchemy, so I’ve been reading it. Nothing special, really.”

Xavier lied. For the past few months, Xavier hadn’t been studying the history of alchemy but rather how to practice alchemy. While he had started his research with a rudimentary understanding of medieval chemistry, Xavier soon discovered that alchemy could be used for way more things besides the old and tired turn-metal-into-gold gimmick. A sly smile formed on Xavier’s face as he finished reading the last alchemy book in the library collection. With a careful hand and enough determination, he could transform anything into anything! Including the human body.

Xavier was ready to put his knowledge into practice that very same night. Against Enrique’s wishes, Carlos let his best friend sleep in their spare room for the night. While they were sound asleep, Xavier’s mind was racing with all the possibilities the world of alchemy had opened up for him. 

Once he finally settled on a plan, he went into action. Xavier crept into Carlos’ room while he was snoring peacefully. He tiptoed slowly, careful not to wake him up, and kneeled beside his bed.

“Alright… Just five minutes then I get out… For the sake of science, nothing more…”

Xavier reached out to Carlos and pulled down his white undershirt. Then, with the tip of his pointer finger, he drew a heart right over his actual heart. He whispered an incantation as he did so. Once he finished tracing the outline of a heart, Xavier lifted his finger and then firmly pressed the center of Carlos’ heart. As soon as he had done so, Carlos’ snoring immediately ceased. It worked. Xavier successfully transformed him into a bodysuit.

While Xavier was overjoyed that his little alchemy experiment had worked, he knew he had no time to celebrate. Xavier had no idea how long the transformation would hold so he hurried to put the Carlos bodysuit on. 

He pried the bodysuit’s mouth wide open then stuck his face inside. Xavier pushed his way down Carlos’ throat. The bodysuit’s internal fluids acted as lubrication for Xavier’s body as he slithered his way inside. He could hear all the slippery, wet noises Carlos’ body was making as it expanded to take in another human body. It was a tight squeeze but with enough force, Xavier was able to force himself into Carlos’ body with one final push. He was in.

Nrrghh…

Xavier heard a moan as he laid inside the bodysuit. He wasn’t sure if it was him or the bodysuit, though that was the least of his worries. Xavier began to stretch his limbs out from inside of Carlos. As his limbs slipped into Carlos’ limbs like sleeves, the once limp bodysuit sprang to life. Slowly but surely, Xavier was able to move and feel through Carlos’ body.

Urghhhh fuckk!!

Xavier let out a loud moan from within Carlos as his senses adjusted to their new body. All at once, he felt the sudden shift in body weight thanks to all the muscle mass Carlos had. Xavier smirked as he ran his hands down his newly obtained firm pecs and chiseled abs. The light body hair brushed against his fingertips, sending electric, sensual sensations as he explored his borrowed muscular body.

Mmmm fuck yeah…

Xavier purred with Carlos’ voice as he continued checking out his new body. He kept a wide grin as he did so. Xavier could hardly believe how much of a success his little alchemy experiment was. Movement… speech… feeling, Xavier controlled it all! 

Even though Xavier was already very familiar with Carlos’ well-toned body, being able to see it from an up close perspective spurred great excitement and pleasure. The tent forming in his sweatpants was a testament to that. Xavier looked at his growing boner with a devilish smirk. He wanted nothing more than to grab and massage his cock, but decided against it. After all, 15 minutes had already passed and he swore he’d only allow himself five minutes. 

Xavier laid back down in bed and let himself out of his borrowed body. He was ejected from Carlos’ body with a loud slurp, leaving an empty bodysuit behind in the bed. Xavier looked down at the limp bodysuit as his senses readjusted. He was worried about possible side effects, but was relieved when Carlos began snoring again after a few minutes had passed. Thankfully, the bodysuit technique he had performed on him seemed to be temporary. Xavier went back to the guest room and practically collapsed on the bed due to fatigue. Performing alchemy and taking on a new body left him physically and mentally exhausted.

Xavier woke up late the next day. Despite having slept in, he was sore and with body aches, most likely due to the bodysuit experiment he had pulled during the night. Xavier stretched and rolled out of bed, wondering who he would use alchemy on next. He had woken up so late that Carlos was already gone for rugby practice, leaving him alone with Enrique.

Enrique was busy working out in the back. He was only wearing a pair of shorts, sunglasses, and a hat. Even from inside the house, Xavier saw how sweaty Enrique was from doing yard work in the hot sun. He watched Enrique toiling away with a hoe for a few minutes. 

“Hm… He’s not a bad option for a bodysuit. Thicker body type, some muscle, lots of body hair, full beard… Yeah, he could definitely be some fun to take over for a spin…”

Then quickly retreated into the hallway when he saw him coming inside. He refused to interact with a man he knew hated him. From the safety of the hallway, Xavier watched Enrique as he took a break on the couch. Enrique noticed Carlos’ notebook sitting on the coffee table and audibly groaned in disapproval.

“I told him he needs to stop drawing… All this art bullshit is gonna get in the way of his focus! I need to hide this before he gets back home.” Enrique leaned his head back against the couch cushions and closed his eyes. All while not even noticing that Xavier was glaring at him with a growing vengeful lust.

Any hesitation Xavier had had disappeared when he heard Enrique’s plan. It was a simple plan with amazing benefits: Xavier would get to try out a dad bod, and because it was Enrique he’d be wearing, he could become his best friend’s dad and help him follow his dream of becoming an artist. It was a win-win situation!

Xavier waited a couple of minutes to make sure Enrique’s guard was down, then proceeded to take action. He crawled up to the couch and quietly positioned himself over Enrique. He then gently placed his finger on Enrique’s exposed chest and began outlining a heart, just like he had done with Carlos. Xavier’s finger practically glided along his chest because of how sweaty he was.

Hrmph… Hrm? What the—

Shit!!

Xavier was hoping Enrique had fallen asleep, but he was wrong. He was wide awake. Xavier finished performing the bodysuit ritual as quickly as he could. He managed to complete the ritual before Enrique could fight back. Enrique began transforming into a bodysuit. In a state of panic, Xavier hurried to put him on. He pushed his head into the mouth of the bodysuit and began forcing his way into Enrique’s body. He thought he was in the clear, but then he felt a rubbery hand holding him by the neck.

What are you doing!? Get out of me!!

Xavier heard Enrique’s voice rejecting his presence. He was shocked. He didn’t think someone could resist body invasion once they started turning into a bodysuit. It seemed like Enrique was a fighter! But so was Xavier. Xavier caught a whiff of Enrique’s sweaty musk as he fought his way in. The strong, masculine smell ignited a powerful lust inside of Xavier. He craved more and he was going to make sure he got it no matter what.

Xavier used his full strength to push himself in. Thankfully, although Enrique resisted against him, he was still turning into a bodysuit. The longer it went on, the less of a fight Enrique was able to put up. Xavier crawled his way inside of the dad bodysuit. Enrique’s body expanded and distorted as Xavier’s presence filled up the inside space. With one last burst of energy, Xavier was swallowed up by the bodysuit. The bodysuit began thrashing around on the couch as Xavier began stretching his limbs out into Enrique’s limbs.

Umphh… Stop…! Ughhnnn…

Enrique felt himself getting taken over by the young gay man as it happened. He absolutely hated the thought of it. He felt Xavier’s hands fill in his own hands like a well-fitting glove. He felt the same full sensation with his legs and feet. One finger at a time, one toe at a time, Enrique was completely powerless to fight against Xavier’s growing control over his body. And the worst part of it all was how good Enrique felt having someone wear him like a suit. As Xavier filled in the bodysuit from the inside, was hitting nerve endings Enrique didn’t even know he had. It sent shocks of pleasure that left Enrique jolting and moaning obscenely. His manhood was hardening and leaking precum from all the stimulation. 

Aarrghhh fuckkkk!!

Xavier growled out with Enrique’s voice. He slipped his own cock into Enrique’s growing member like a personal dick sleeve, sending another wave of ecstasy throughout their shared body. An unwanted smirk formed on Enrique’s face once Xavier gained full control over his body. It was over.

Hey! Stop that!! Get your hands off my dick!!

“No way man! This cock’s mine now!!” Xavier teased. He made Enrique’s hands paw at their protruding package. 

He then grabbed and lowered Enrique’s shorts with lightning speed. Enrique’s cock was at full mast and sprung out once it was released. Xavier whistled with delight as he admired his new cock. Enrique had a cock that was as thick as a beer can with a big tip and an unkempt bush of pubic hair too. After thrashing around from getting taken over, Enrique’s body was drenched and glistening with sweat. With a horny grin, Xavier lifted his arm and aired out his sweaty pit hair. The potent smell immediately filled his nostril. He leaned into his pit and took a deep sniff of his musk. The manly aroma fed his arousal, and made his already erect cock to grow even harder and longer.

Stop it! That’s gross!!

Xavier groaned when he heard Enrique complaining from inside his head. 

“Are you sure, big guy? Seems like you’re into it too!” Xavier waved his erect member around, causing precum to drip around his hairy thighs. 

Once Enrique quieted down again, Xavier decided to indulge. He leaned his face back into his ripe armpit and used his tongue to sip a few droplets of salty sweat hanging off his pit hair. He then took another few whiffs of his sweaty scent, groaning as he did so, then ran his fingers down his hairy torso. He stopped momentarily at his nipples to pinch them. Xavier loved the pain sensation jolting through his chest as he pinched his sensitive nipples. His hands continued slithering down until they finally reached his leaking manhood. Xavier ran his fingers through his new bush. His fingers got caught in the forest of thick, black hair. Xavier smirked as he tugged on his bush while his other hand began pumping his throbbing member— all while Enrique was conscious of him moving around with his body.

“Nrghh… fuck man!! Nghhh this feels so good…”

Xavier moaned loudly as he jerked off, much to Enrique’s dismay. Enrique couldn’t do anything but complain as Xavier had free reign over his body. Everytime he protested, Xavier moaned louder and louder until he stopped again. 

This continued for about another five minutes until Xavier felt himself getting close. Once Xavier felt it, he grabbed his throbbing member with both hands and stroked ferociously. His pecs were bouncing up and down with every pump. He was dripping sweat everywhere from how intensely he was jerking off. Then, at the moment of climax, Xavier threw his head back and let out a sensual gasp as load after load of warm cum came shooting out of him like a fire hydrant. His cock was twitching and throbbing until every last load was pumped out of his heavy balls. 

Xavier was breathing heavily. All of the body hair on his upper body became drenched and sticky with all the sweat and cum. He laid on the couch satisfied and completely relaxed, until he heard the garage door opening. Carlos was home.

“Oh fuck, not now!”

Xavier sprang to his feet and hurried to clean up after himself. He threw on his shorts and used nearby napkins to dry off his bodily fluids. No matter how hard Xavier tried, it made no difference. The couch was still soaking wet and he was still red in the face after his little tugging session, but it would have to do for now.

Carlos walked into the living room as soon as Xavier finished throwing away the evidence of what had happened.

“Hey Dad,” Carlos said.

“Hey… Son. How was practice?” Xavier said with a nervous stutter. 

“It was fine, I guess.”

“Hey man, that’s really good to hear! I’m proud of you!” 

“Yeah… thanks.” Carlos looked at him with a confused expression. He couldn’t access his mind even though he had perfect control over Enrique’s body. Without access to his memories, Xavier had to guess what Enrique would say. He was in uncharted territory, and he was terrified.

Carlos!! Hijo! Help me!! Your weird friend is controlling my body!!

Enrique was still shouting in Xavier’s head. Irritated, Xavier accidentally responded out loud.

“I swear to God will you just shut up already!?”

“I didn’t even say anything!!”

“Not you!!” Xavier looked over at Carlos. He shook his head to himself. “I’ve been feeling kind of weird today, I’m sorry.”

Carlos stood apprehensively for a brief moment, then lowered his guard again. “It’s alright, I understand. I had a really weird dream last night. I don’t feel like myself today either.” He took out a car key and offered it to Xavier. “Here, thanks for letting me borrow the truck.”

Not suspecting anything of it, Xavier tried reaching out for it. As soon as he did so, Carlos pinned against the couch.

“Fucking liar! I know it’s you in there Xavier!”

“Huh? No it’s not—”

“Save it. I know my Dad, and he would never say shit like ‘man’ or ‘I swear to God!’ What the fuck is going on!?”

“Okay okay I’ll tell you! Just let me get up first!”

Carlos did as asked. Xavier then explained everything to him. He explained how he used alchemy to turn Enrique into a bodysuit and took over his body and identity. Xavier explained that he wanted to help him pursue his dream of becoming an artist by taking over his dad’s identity. After he was done, Carlos stood up and paced around the room quietly.

“This is insane…” Carlos murmured. Xavier stayed quiet. “This is so fucking insane… And honestly? This might be the miracle I was praying for…”

Xavier was overjoyed that Carlos was on board with his plan. He pulled Carlos in for a bro hug, and after they hugged, Carlos told him to never do that again if he was going to act like his father from now on. Xavier chuckled and nodded.

“You got it, Carlitos, I’ll become an even better father than your dad ever was!” Carlos grinned.

“I’ll hold you to that, Dad.”

From then on, Xavier continued pretending to be Carlos’ father Enrique. Carlos had to teach him what to say and what not to say, but Xavier was a quick learner. Although Carlos still had to play rugby to keep his scholarship, he could finally devote more time to his artwork thanks to his father’s new attitude. Carlos was able to find success as a painter after he graduated. In fact, he had been invited to a gallery opening for rising new artists such as himself. His future as an artist was bright.

And while Carlos was busy making a name for himself, his best friend/new father lived happily too. Xavier loved his new dad bod, and so did the gay hunks at the local gym. They would never give him the time of the day back in his old body, but with his new DILF body? They were all over him. Although Enrique still occasionally complained in his head, Xavier learned how to ignore him. The old Enrique had become a distant memory over the years as Xavier and Carlos lived their best lives as a happy father and son duo.

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[heritagebrowser]

The pulpit at the Saint- Bavon's Cathedral (Sint-Baafskathedraal) in Ghent, Belgium.

Rococo pulpit made by Laurent Delvaux in 1741. The statues represent the blessing of the truth over error. Made of (white and black) Carrara marble and Danish oak, with gilded wood and wrought iron fence, made by J. Arens. The pulpit could be realized with money from Bishop Triest's fund. Laurent was commissioned by the Chapter of Sint-Baafs. The contract between both parties was signed on March 6, 1741.

As early as 1719-1720, the cathedral's clergy had a plan to replace the old pulpit, previously donated by Viglius Aytta, with a new work of art. In 1738-1739 and later, Van der Brugghen from Antwerp, Theodoor Verhaeghen from Mechelen and Laurent Delvaux from Nivelles made a design for a new pulpit. The latter's model was accepted for execution by the Ghent chapter, which concluded a written agreement with the sculptor on March 6, 1741. It precisely described which materials should be used, namely Danish oak and white Italian marble, and what the artwork should look like. In 1745 Delvaux had completed his work.

That pulpit, rightly regarded as a very representative piece of rococo church furniture in Flanders, has been elaborated on a rather large scale. The viewer's gaze is immediately drawn to the allegorical marble sculpture group under the tub, depicting Truth and Time. The Truth, in the form of a beautiful young woman in a graceful pose, holds a bulky, open book in her hands. Her beautifully arranged robe, which the artist managed to portray in a striking way, captures the movement of her long flowing hair. The globe under her right foot means that truth is higher and worthier than all other goods. The sun, shining on her breast, wants to show that Truth is a friend of light and that she looks up to God, without whose light there is no truth. The woman is crowned with a laurel wreath, the sign of victory. The book in her hands contains the following sentence from a speech by Paul to the inhabitants of Ephesus: 'Awake, you sleeper; rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light” (V, 14).

With her graceful body, slightly turned towards him, Truth turns towards a winged man, who foretells Time. He is winged because the proverb says: time flies. The old man sits on some blocks of stone and leans against a tree that supports the pulpit. He is awakened from his sleep by a putto blowing a trumpet, and lifts the veil that hid the Truth from him. People noticed his expressive head with striking play of light and shadow in the spirit of the late Baroque. For centuries, humanity was ignorant of Christ's message of salvation. She didn't see the Truth. Now Time throws off the veil that hindered his 'insight'. Instructed by the Truth, he is inspired by the divine Word, which is symbolized by the putto with the trumpet.

The entire group, inspired by an unfinished work by the Italian sculptor Bernini, is very balanced. The successful contrast between the youthful and lovely woman and the muscular old man, their posture and their draping testify to the artist's talent.

The branches of the tree swing smoothly around the pulpit, which is decorated with numerous rococo motifs and four medallions in relief. Three of these are explicative representations of the victory of Truth over Time and are therefore closely related to the group of images at the bottom. At the front we get the birth of Christ surrounded by angels and cherubim. This represents the Light among people. On the right the conversion of Paul is depicted, who was struck blind on the way to Damascus.

On the left is the conversion of St. Bavo. His eyes opened and he saw. After all, he was moved by the preaching of Saint Amandus and withdrew into a hollow tree in prayer. The last medallion on the back features the bust of Bishop Antoon Triest. The draped sounding board with a dove in a halo at the bottom is supported by two apple trees. On the sounding board, two angels hold a large cross, whose sleek surfaces contrast sharply with the playful branches of the tree. A third angel takes the apple from the mouth of a serpent that is writhing in the tree. At the entrance to each staircase there is a life-size angel on the inside with the coat of arms of Bishop Triest, thanks to whose fund it was possible to have this sculpture executed. The banister with its graceful curves and its lush and playful shells on the parapet is a beautiful piece of rococo in itself. The entire pulpit should not necessarily be viewed from any one point. It is conceived as an image that can be admired from all sides, without the composition losing value. (Source: Erik Duverger)

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲

↳ summary: the day that landed your coworker in the hospital, and a car in the side of a building

↳ warnings: some blood, mentions of alcohol, some hurt but everyone turns out okay, and murdoc being murdoc

↳ notes: had a close friend that knows nothing about gorillaz beta read this, and they convinced me to post it. enjoy. reblogs and comments are more than appreciated

↳ song: da funk—daft punk

masterlist | commissions | carrd

Business at Uncle Norm’s Organ Emporium had been steady that day.

You remember it being around three in the afternoon when your shift rounded its end. The busted heater of the store rattled with a wheeze as it desperately tried to stay on, and you reveled in the momentary relief it brought you from the cold weather. Customers shuffled amongst isles lined with various vinyl’s and cd’s, occasionally approaching you at the front desk to ask a question or secure their purchase. Only one or two complained about the mold in the corners of the room this time—an overall win for the day, you mused. 

“‘Ello.”

The small shop filled with a tinkling noise as the glass door to the outside swung open. A burst of cold air came with it, and the customers nearest the entrance bundled up tighter for the moment. You just exchanged a polite look with the newest addition to the store, eager to get off your feet and go home.

Stuart Pot’s green eyes flitted to you for a moment as he offered a small smile to accompany his hello. He took a moment to breathe in the warm air of the shop, no longer disrupted by the draft he had let in, before shedding his coat and starting forward. No doubt preparing himself for the beginning of his shift.

Stuart was a man that seemed to be all legs and no brain. Most people upon meeting him assumed he was stupid, walking all over him until he said something to make them think otherwise about their actions. You yourself wouldn’t have made much of him if he hadn’t struck up a conversation one day. Now, he was one of the only people you talked to on a regular basis. Pretty sad, considering he was just your coworker, but not at all unexpected for having just moved here.

You knew he liked roller skating and wanted to be a storm chaser as a kid. You knew he had a girlfriend that played guitar, and spent his spare time painting. And after one unforgettable day when you decided to bring your lunch in, you now knew his lips ballooned up when he ate pickles.

Stuart really wasn’t a difficult guy to get along with. And while your job wasn’t bad, it was always nice to have something of a friend to complain about it with.

“Afternoon.” You settled for nodding at him as he rounded the corner of the desk, pushing yourself out of the leaning position you had been in to allow him space behind the register. “It’s a real nasty one out there, yeah?”

“Only if yew don’t have a car.” Stuart, who had insisted you call him Stu for the past year now, shrugged. In truth, it wasn’t that he didn’t have a car, just that he didn’t know how to drive it. But that wasn’t anything important you needed to know.

You nodded in agreement as he panned away from you to clock in. At that moment across the store, a customer opened the door Stuart had just come from only to have the wind outside blow it closed right in their face. They took a moment to struggle with it before stumbling outside, looking displeased as they did so.

You made a face.

On a nearby chair hung your own scarf and jacket that you’d brought for the walk home. And while your feet hurt something awful, the thin layers you had brought in preparation of the temperature made you hesitate. Clearly you hadn’t thought long enough about how cold it would get. You sighed in defeat before turning back to Stuart.

“So, how have you been?”

The blue haired man blinked at your form leaning on the counter, no doubt wondering why you weren’t heading out. With a huff of air, you tossed the formalities in favor of a more straightforward conversation.

“It’s freezing out there.” You scrunched up your nose. “I don’t want to walk all the way through town in that just to get to my flat and find out my landlord forgot to fix the heat again. At least here has some warmth.”

“True.” Stuart’s voice cracked in its familiar fashion. Ever a man of few words, he just stood awkwardly, biting at a stray fingernail or two as a nasty habit. Thankfully the silence didn’t linger long before someone shuffled up to purchase a new set of guitar picks.

“Have you heard the new album that we got last week yet?” You mused after he was done ringing the fellow up, pushing yourself off and jumping over the front desk to point at a collection of records. “I thought it was pretty good, and it sounded like one of those underground bands you like to talk about.”

Stuart immediately perked up when you started talking about music; as he always did. It shouldn’t have surprised you, really, to work at a music shop with someone that was passionate about the art form. But with the way Stuart rambled on every now and then you’d think that that’s all he ever thought about.

Nimble fingers picked up the artists cover as Stuart turned it over to the description on the back. When you hadn’t been looking, he’d abandoned his post in favor of the possibility of a new song track, moving surprisingly quiet for someone of his height.

“Homework?” Stuart parroted the title back at you as he read through the track names. “Sounds funny.”

“Lot’s of people think the same thing about you.” You grinned with teeth, unaffected by his suspicion. Stuart just looked at you owlishly, letting a small gap toothed smile show as he caught onto the joke.

“‘S nawt my fault I got an accent.” He placed the album under his arm for later, no doubt going to utilize the employee discount you and him were so generously offered. “If anyfing you’re the weird one.”

You would have responded. In fact, your lips had already opened— ready to rebuke his claim —when a horrible screeching noise stopped you.

The front of the store exploded into a brilliant shower of glass mere seconds later. Shards glittering in the grey light from outside threw themselves at you, covering the skin along your arms and face with a tingly feeling. You barely had time to process a slow trickle of something warm making its way down your face before your body reacted for you. 

A poorly carpeted floor felt the weight of your backside as you fell back, bumping your head on a nearby table in the process. Somewhere a few feet away from you, you heard high pitched groaning that sounded faintly like Stuart’s voice, and a gleeful cackle that incited a splitting headache.

Faint sirens wailed in the background as you wobbly stood to your feet. The sight before you was much different than it had been a few moments ago. Pianos and cases of speakers that you had spent the better part of last week propping up were now in pieces. Some made sparking noises as they lay in disarray. You stared at them as your vision swam, not yet aware of the yelling figures around you or of the  small pool of blood collecting at your feet.

But the biggest change by far you noticed, was the giant car sticking through the front of the shop.

At the wheel was the source of the maniacal laughing. In the three seconds it took to give him a once over, you observed more details about the driver than you could ever want in your life.

He had olive toned skin that was lined with sparse scars. His teeth were yellowed and pointed in an unnatural manner, and his hair fell just about halfway over his eyes; which when he opened them you saw were two different colors. One black, and the other a faded pink. It didn’t take long for his gaze to land on you.

“Oi! Did you bloody see that!” He shouted with glee, apparently ignorant to the chaos he had caused. “Brilliant! Bloody brilliant! Can’t even say I’m sorry about the cuts, love.”

His gravelly tone did nothing to snap your brain out of the haze it was floating in. With a far away look, you stared straight through the driver.

Later you wouldn’t remember the way his eyes widened as you mumbled something with a frown before collapsing forward on the hood of his car, fading into a restless realm of black.

You were fine.

Stuart Pot was fine. 

At least that’s what the tests said. 

Doctor after doctor had come in and out of your room with clipboards before they allowed you to even so much as get up. They’d given up on keeping you off your feet after you rolled out of bed as an act of defiance.

Everything was too white. Hospitals had always felt so artificial to you, so being stuck in one was nothing short of a nuisance. Beeping machines in your ear only proved to aggravate you further, testing your nerves. Thankfully, a nurse was sent in to discharge you, bringing news of only a few cuts they had disinfected, and some minor head trauma that should be okay as long as you kept an eye on it.

Now here you sat, just a few rooms over from the one you had just woken up in, sitting in a visitors chair next to your only friend.

Your only, catatonic, unresponsive friend.

Stuart’s hospital room was busier than yours. There were more machines, more i.v drips, and more nurse visits than yours had. It was to be expected, though. He had gotten hit with the car head on instead of just being near it, unlike you and the other spectators. The only thing keeping your stresses at bay was that his vitals were steady. 

Blue hair splayed itself all around his pillow like a halo as he lay almost peacefully. His chest was moving up and down at an even pace, the gap in his teeth making a whistling noise as he breathed. You would have felt more relieved about it all, if it wasn’t for his eye.

It was fucked. That was the simple way to put it. Completely and utterly fucked. Where a gaze of mossy green had been prior, there was now brilliant bloody red. The entirety of it had been consumed by an inky darkness, making it look like the appendage had just popped right on out of his face. You were unaware if Stuart could see you staring at him from time to time, but you figured if he could, all he would see was pain on your face. Pain, not at his appearance, but at the trauma that was sure to come from it when he woke up.

There had been a third party to visit Stuarts bed not too long ago, sporting sunglasses indoors and black lipstick, and proving to be a very useful distraction for you. You hadn’t recognized her at first until she rushed to Stuart’s bedside, clutching at his hand like it would somehow shock him back awake.

Paula Cracker was just as you remembered her; loud and unabashed. The one time she had come by the shop to pick up Stu on her way home hadn’t been particularly interesting, if the way she barely looked at you before screaming along to her radio said anything. Stuart had to assure you the next day that she didn’t mean any harm. She just wasn’t all for meeting new people. 

You had shaken your head at him and said nothing at the time.

But now, in the hospital, sitting by her boyfriend’s bed, Paula couldn’t seem to stop talking to you. She ran right into conversations like they were open doors, barely leaving any room for you to respond before barreling on. By the time she declared that she had to leave, no matter how much she apparently wished to stay, you had counted a total of ten words that you’d managed to get in. You offered her a short goodbye to match. She didn’t seem to notice.

You settled into a morose silence after that. Nurses stopped coming in, and you stopped waiting for something, anything at all, to happen. It was beginning to set in that Stu had been, to out it bluntly, run over, and wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.

You had just begun to wonder if you should head home when the door knob to the room rattled, and opened harshly.

“Well this is bloody brilliant.”

The door to the hospital room, which you could have sworn Paula had just walked out of, swung open in a wide berth to reveal the very person that landed you in the hospital.

A quick glance at the clock let you know that Paula had been gone for almost two hours, leaving you to sit by yourself as Stu stayed put. 

“What are you doing here.” Your mouth moved before you could stop it, sentence slipping past your lips in a weak attempt to make sense of this unsettlingly human being.

He looked the very same as he had the last time the two of you met. Just this time with an upside down cross for a necklace, and less blood on his hands. Literally.

The stranger made his way over to you, flopping down in a visitor chair and lighting a cigarette with one very dented lighter. He smiled cruelly at you, showing off a familiar row of teeth. They were as pointed as you remembered.

“Charity.” He tacked on a weird laugh at the end through the stick in his mouth. Two fingers lifted to his lips to remove the cigarette, a thick plume of smoke coming with it. He blew it in your face, and if you hadn’t been so lost in thought, you might have hit him for it.

“You don’t seem the charitable type.” Once again, your words were getting ahead of you. But he didn’t seem to be offended at all. Rather, the man gave a bone chilling laugh that was ended with another drag of his fag.

“Court mandated.” He continued with a smirk.

“They already had you tried?”

“What can I say? The law works fast when it comes to Murdoc Niccals.” He shrugged, once again with that strange laugh of his that accompanied nearly everything he said.

You simply eyed him with a tired sort of caution, drinking in the new information like it could kill you at any second.

“What? Not going to share your name with me?” Murdoc sneered. “It’s only polite.”

“When it comes to you, I have a feeling manners don’t really apply.” You grumbled, but ended up sharing your name all the same. Murdoc nodded slowly in response. You saw his eyes flick you up and down a couple times— something that made you clench a fist —before they found their way over to Stu’s bed.

“Hafta take care of him for ten hours.” He continued to explain without a hint of regret for the individual. “Apparently knocking some scrub in the noggin’ is a crime.”

“I wonder why.” You responded dryly, scratching at the bottom of your right eye without thinking about it.

“Wish I’d hit someone better looking with my car.” Murdoc laughed with a not so subtle look to you. “Wouldn’t mind taking care of ‘em for a few hours.”

“You just crashed a car into the front of a building and nearly killed someone. I don’t think I’d trust you with as much as a dead fish, much less Stuart.” You crinkled your nose. ‘Or me,’ your brain silently added.

“Not much you or I can do ‘bout it now, love.” He took another smoke to punctuate his sentence. It left you with furrowed brows and downturned lips. Murdoc snickered at your expression.

“I mean, it wouldn’t that be hard to watch you.” 

“Didn’t know you were into that.” The man sported a shark’s grin, only dropping it when you made a fake vomiting noise.

“God no. I meant watch you while you take care of Stu. Make sure you don’t do anything to him.” 

“I’m hurt you think I’d do anything unethical to Steve.” He scoffed.

“Stuart.”

“Same thing.” He shrugged. You didn’t bother to correct him.

The two of you delved into an awkward pause that was timed by the ticking of the nearby wall clock. While you were busy thinking about what exactly you had just offered yourself up for, you could tell Murdoc was growing bored. You fell back on bouncing your leg as you analyzed him, the bottom half of your body attempting to get out all of the nervous energy you had been bottling up.

“Well—" Murdoc flicked a bit of ash off the butt of his cigarette, putting it out against the armrest of his chair. “—this was a joy, yeah? Let’s never do it again.”

You couldn’t help but mumble an agreement in his direction. He stood up with a twist of his back, letting out a satisfied sigh as it cracked.

“Guess I’ll see you soon, love.” Murdoc chuckled darkly while heading for the door. One leather clad boot was out the exit before he paused, necklace bouncing against his chest as he turned to look at you.

“Say. You don’t play any instruments, do you?” His eyes held an unreadable emotion.

“Uh, I dabble. Stu is more of the music guy than me.” You responded. “Why?”

But he was already gone, leaving you to wonder if he had never been there. But the ash on the chair next to you and the faint smell of booze in the air told you otherwise.

You let your head fall into the embrace of your hands as you groaned, massaging at your temples in an attempt to quell the pounding in your head.

“What have I gotten myself into.”

[brain-rot-central]

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal, Ch. 6

A/N: Alright, here's the deal: I wrote the next 3 parts of Sonnet all together (including this one), but have decided to split them up for flow purposes. Which, hopefully means more frequent updates, because they're already written lmao. I apologize for this being a shorter chapter, but the next two will be from Tav's POV and then Astarion's. We're doing character building, ya'll. Happy reading!!

Rating: M/Soft E Word count: 2k Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Tav (DU, named) Warnings: 18+, body worship, post-breakup, unhealthy relationship Summary: In preparation for the upcoming gala, Astarion commissions a hand-tailored dress for Tav.

♥ Previous Chapter ♥ Next Chapter ♥ Link to Ao3 ♥ Playlist

A small gathering has commenced within Astarion's office.

Tav stands on an upturned wooden crate with her arms outstretched, facing a mirror. A tailor is at her side, wrapping measuring tape around her chest. He scratches something into his notepad, then slips the tape down to her waist. He cinches it tight, causing Tav to gasp.

“Ah, excuse me, may I request something?” she asks, putting up a finger in protest. The man looks up at her through the thick lenses of his glasses.

He's a meek older man; human, likely in his seventies. His glasses sit heavy across the bridge of his nose, and he speaks with a voice that begs for some type of nasal lavage. He nods at Tav.

 “Perhaps leave some extra fabric around the waist?” Tav suggests, sweetly.

She’s wearing an emerald green satin dress. Astarion picked the color – part of their agreement to have her attend tonight's event – as it matches her eyes. The dress is modest, overall. Off the shoulder sleeves with a horizontal ruffle across her chest. The neckline dips slightly into her cleavage, but it's mostly obscured by the bunched fabric. It cinches around her midsection, opening into a wide skirt down the legs. The same ruffle across her chest is present around the bottom hem of the dress.

It truly is a magnificent dress.

…If she enjoyed wearing them.

Astarion looks on from across the room, languidly sipping a glass of wine. He's sifting through various documents strewn across his desk as he chimes in, “You have such a darling figure, my dear. Why hide it?”

With a huff, Tav argues, “I've grown softer in these last few months.” She looks off to the side pensively, chewing the inside of her lip. She knows what he's going to say. It's never been about what she looks like, though hearing him call her a vision always does wonders for her self-esteem.

No, Astarion has always wanted her. Was drawn to her heart, as twisted and warped as it was. Despite that, he managed to find the small beacon of light still shining within. And slowly, ever so carefully, pulled it from the depths.

“And? I hardly see the issue,” Astarion challenges with a slight tilt of his head.

“Astarion!” she shouts, giving a quick stomp of her feet. Heat rises to her cheeks. “Please, Astarion – I would feel more comfortable about wearing this… thing,” Tav says while pulling at the dress, “if it weren't so form-fitting.”

Astarion takes another drink of wine, walking around the desk to lean against its edge. He and Tav exchange glances. When he finds her pouting, he sighs. “I guess it doesn't matter, really,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. His lips then curl into a devilish smile. “It's only going to end up on the floor, come nightfall.”

Tav shoots a bewildered glare toward Astarion, a wave of embarrassment washing over her. The bastard has the nerve to be smiling so smugly after a comment like that, because he knows. There's no way Astarion doesn't know the impact his words have on her. 

It's another game he plays, but truth be told, Tav likes this one. A lot. It’s rare for him to not make good on those honeyed words. And when he does, gods, does he do it well.

Preventing her mind from becoming awash with lust, Tav shakes her head. She stomps her feet again and huffs out an audible breath in Astarion’s direction. It's a warning for him to ease up on the flirtation, lest she blow a gasket.

His smile deepens.

Of course he'd want to see that.

The poor tailor, caught between their questionable spat, clears his throat. “I-If it's alright, my lord, I'm more than willing to comply with your Lady’s request.” 

Astarion brings the glass of wine again to his lips, looking at Tav from over the rim. She mouths a ‘please’ in his direction; he pushes himself away from the desk’s edge.

“Of course,” he agrees in a posh tone. “Whatever my Lady desires.” Astarion then abandons his glass on the desk, moving toward Tav. 

A shiver runs down her spine as Tav watches his reflection appear in the mirror behind her. She knows he’s handsome, but seeing his form within the glass leaves her speechless.

It grounds her in a way she doesn't expect. Makes this entire situation real. 

She may never get used to it.

“However,” Astarion continues, “I would ask that you please leave the room.” He turns his head to the tailor. “If only for a few minutes.”

“Of c-course, Lord Ancunín,” says the elderly man with a bow. He gathers a few materials scattered from around the room and quickly heads out into the foyer. The door to the office clicks shut behind him.

Astarion then offers Tav a hand in stepping down from the wooden crate. She accepts and stands before the mirror. She takes a quick moment to study her reflection. 

Her hair is being held up in a loose bun. As she tilts her head, Tav can see the scars on her neck through the fallen strands of hair. Yet, she's happy to find that the bruise Astarion sucked into her neck is starting to fade.

“Now tell me truthfully, darling– Why hide this beautiful body of yours?” Astarion asks from behind her. He slips his arms around her waist, pulling her against his chest. The familiar scent of his cologne, mixed with the sweetness of the alcohol on his breath, floods Tav’s senses. She finds herself quickly growing lax under him, slipping further into his embrace. 

“Unless… you're saving it all for me?” he asks, coyly. He slots his face into the nape of her neck and inhales, leading a trail of kisses up the side of her neck, stopping just behind her ear. “How very modest of you,” Astarion teases.

He sways her gently within his arms and Tav wraps her hands around his forearms, fighting to keep herself upright. “I think a better topic for discussion, Astarion,” she deflects, “is how you almost killed me the other night.” She gives a brief pause before adding, “Again.”

“Oh, but my darling, I didn't,” is his sultry reply. Astarion sucks another kiss into Tav’s neck. The sensation has her knees buckling, but she quickly recovers, squeezing his forearms tighter.

He worries over the scars on her neck and Tav whimpers softly, raising her hand to thread through silver locks. “That's hardly the point, Astarion,” she retorts. Her voice is barely audible, more air than sound.

Astarion slides his hands up from her waist to cup her breasts through the gown, eyes fixated on their reflection in the mirror. “I would say that's precisely the point, my dear,” he suggests, accentuating his argument with a gentle squeeze of her breasts. “You asked me not to turn you – I didn't. I respected your wishes.” He rests his cheek against hers, rocking them gently again as he stares into the mirror. “In my defense, I'm used to taking a bit more from you. It seems you've lost some of your resilience in our time apart.”

Tav scoffs, offended, though allows Astarion to continue swaying her within his arms. “Are you really trying to imply that it's somehow my fault for almost dying again?”

“On the contrary, actually.” Astarion moves his hands again to her waist, wrapping them tightly around her. His voice drops an octave as he says, “We've spent far too much time away from one another.” He kisses her cheek. “And we should perhaps fix that.”

Tav turns to face him. “What do you mean?” she asks, panicked. “We've been seeing one another for the last three months. This is certainly all… something.” She's suddenly on edge, but she's unsure why. Does she fear him rejecting her?

…Since when does she care about that, again?

“Exactly,” Astarion agrees with a husky growl. He drops his face, resting his forehead against hers. “It's something. But what if it were more? Would it truly be so terrible?”

They stand together within the quiet office. And as Tav looks into his eyes, she almost forgets the events of the night before. 

How she essentially aided him in ending the lives of two men. How he hid them within the depths of the manor. That he probably would have never told her, had she not found out. 

This man will keep secret after secret from her, if it means staying within her good graces. He will never risk tarnishing her opinion of him. Tav will have to fight, tooth and nail, to pull each and every truth from him.

Being with him will be work, and will likely end horribly.

But now, as she looks at his face, illuminated by the soft glow of the morning sun breaking through the windows, she feels that maybe…

Maybe…

She's been wrong about him.

Would spending eternity with Astarion be all that bad? He would put her in the very best of everything, never letting her go without. Tav knows he would protect her, always, until his dying breath. Hells, she would never have to lift a finger ever again. She would never be lonely; Astarion would make sure of that. She would never want for anything.

Tav plants a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose, giving Astarion a genuine smile. “We should really let the tailor finish working, Astarion,” she scolds, playfully.

‘Maybe,’ she thinks…

‘It's worth trying again.’

With a groan, Astarion rolls his eyes. “That's terribly boring,” he replies with feigned annoyance. “I have a better idea in mind.” He kisses his way up the side of her neck again, and Tav becomes a puddle of girlish laughter in his arms. “We should throw the dress to the floor now, no?” he suggests. “Nightfall is just so very far away...”

As Astarion's hands wander down the length of her back, Tav lets a moan slip past her lips when he cups her arse. “Let the man finish his job, Astarion,” she insists, “or I won't have anything to wear at all.”

He draws back from her, studying her face. Confusion strikes her as she looks back at him, unable to read his expression. The corners of his mouth then curl into a sly smile, and suddenly, she understands. 

“Again,” he says in a velvet tone, “I hardly see the problem.” Astarion accentuates his point by pulling her to him. Tav gasps as their centers collide, and that's when she feels it. The length of him, stiff and proud, rubbing up against her. Heat rushes to her cheeks in embarrassment – he would take her here in the office, knowing damned well the tailor is just beyond the office doors. 

The same doors that happen to be unlocked.

���Good things come to those who wait,” she states, tapping Astarion's chest while peeling herself free of his embrace. “Now, please; I would appreciate if you quit being so fresh and let the man finish.” Her breath comes in labored pants, her cheeks flushed. Her mind begins to clear.

With a playful scoff, Astarion throws up his hands in defeat. He steals a quick kiss to her cheek, snaking a hand down the front of his trousers. Astarion flips himself up into the waistband of his undergarments, pulling out his shirt to cover himself. Tav gives a quick giggle, Astarion shooting back with a smirk, and he finally heads to the office doors. He invites the tailor back into the office with a bow. “My apologies,” Astarion says with a well-practiced smile, “and thank you for your patience. Please, resume your work.”

The tailor lifts his glasses higher onto the bridge of his nose as he walks back into the office, clutching his measurement tape to his chest. He gives a quick bow to Astarion, then helps Tav back up onto the wooden crate. Astarion resumes shifting through documents on his desk, though catches Tav staring at him through the reflection of the mirror.

When their eyes meet, they give one another a knowing smile.

[lumiidragon]

!!!Flash YCH Sale!!!

Get a cute Halloween-themed fury chibi with this YCH! Each YCH is $10 and there is no limit to how many times one can be bought~ YCH closes Nov. 1st.

How to get a YCH?

Fill this form out for the YCH and send it via DM or through my Discord 'LumiiDragon'.

-Commissioner Name:

-Paypal Address: (Please remember to send me your Paypal address, not your Paypal.me!)

-Character Name:

-Character Reference: (MUST BE A VISUAL REFERENCE! I will not accept written or sloppy refs. Reference sheets or multiple colored refs work best!)

-Character Expression: (Will be the YCH default otherwise. If no alternate expression is needed, just leave this blank.)

-Light Fury, Night Fury, or Night Light Option: (This is basically just what the general base will be on and it will also determine the pumpkin they are holding and the direction they are in, lol)

-Other Necessary Info: (Just anything else I need to know about your character for the YCH)

-Agreement to Terms: (All of my commission terms, do's and dont's, ect apply to this YCH. You can find them on my Carrd! To agree to my terms, copy-paste my 'Agreement To Terms' section into this spot so I know that you have read them, located in my Commission Form here: https://lumii-is-the-name.carrd.co/#commissioninfo

-----------------------------------

YCH Specific Rules

-Furies only (Night, light and night lights!) I will accept fan-fury species, but so long as they don't deviate too much from the base (Ex. they have a lot of extra traits like wings, excess feathers, limbs, ect)

-No limit! Buy as many YCHs as you wish! They are all $10 each~

-Expression can be changed, just add it in the form

-Paypal only~

-YCH eands on Nov. 1st. After the 1st, this YCH will be retired and I will no longer be accepting YCHs from this base. So please purchase one before then!

[mariacallous]

In 2025, we will see a fundamental transformation in the language of climate politics. We’re going to hear a lot less about “reducing emissions” from scientists and policymakers and a lot more about “phasing out fossil fuels” or “ending coal, oil, and methane gas.” This is a good thing. Although it is scientifically accurate, the phrase “reducing emissions” is too easily used for greenwashing by the fossil-energy industry and its advocates. The expression “ending coal, oil, and methane gas,” on the other hand, keeps the focus on the action that will do most to resolve the climate crisis.

This discourse shift has been initiated by the latest report of the United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. The world’s climate scientists say that already existing fossil-energy infrastructure is projected to emit the total carbon budget for halting global heating at 2 degrees Celsius over preindustrial temperatures. This statement means two things. It means that the world cannot develop any more coal, oil, or gas, if we want our planet to remain relatively livable. And it means that even some already developed fossil-fuel deposits will need to be retired before the end of their lifetime, since we need to leave space in the carbon budget for essential activities like agriculture.

The international community has already integrated this new science into its global climate governance. The 28th Conference of the Parties—the annual conference of the world’s nations party to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change—called for every country to contribute to “transitioning away from fossil fuels.” Never before in the history of international climate negotiations had the main cause of global heating been clearly named and specifically targeted. The United Nations itself now calls for the phaseout of coal, oil, and methane gas.

This new climate language will become mainstream in 2025. In her policy plans for her second term aspPresident of the European Commission, Ursula von der Leyen pledged not to work to lower EU emissions, but to “continue to bring down energy prices by moving further away from fossil fuels.” The new UK government promised in its manifesto that it will withhold licenses for new coal and for oil exploration—and states outright that it will “ban fracking for good.” And in France, Macron has explicitly vowed to end fossil-fuel use entirely.

Climate politics in the US will also evolve in the wake of Donald Trump’s reelection for president. Republicans will continue to embrace a “drill, baby, drill” climate agenda, denying the danger or sometimes even the reality of climate change while advocating for expanding domestic crude and methane-gas production. They may try to greenwash their policies by claiming they embrace an “all of the above” energy strategy, but this messaging will have limited effects. Due to political polarization the association of Trump with coal, oil, and gas will raise Democratic support for phasing out fossil fuels. Before the 2024 election, 59 percent of Democrats said climate change should be the Federal government’s top priority, but only 48 percent said they supported a phaseout. In 2025 majorities of Democrats will begin to support fossil-fuel phaseout, especially if climate advocates revive science-based climate messaging, continue to emphasize that clean-energy deployment is job creation, and frame choosing to phase out fossil fuels as a form of freedom that upholds our right to a livable future.

Given that Democrats won many down-ballot races, and cities and states are still pledging to pass climate policies, this shift in the Democratic majority will keep the US on the map in international climate negotiations, whether or not Trump withdraws the US from the Paris Agreement, creating new local alliances with the UK, the EU, and global south nations calling for international fossil-fuel phaseout targets. This bloc can counter the power of petrostates in international climate negotiations. At the very least, the mainstreaming of the language of fossil-fuel phaseout will help undermine the greenwashing strategy of current oil and gas company PR, which falsely advertises industry as pursuing technologies at scale to help “reduce emissions” even as they continue their upstream investments.

Of course the petrostates, along with India and China, will push back against the rhetoric of fossil fuel phaseout. But India can be helped to turn away from its domestic coal stores by clean-energy financing at close to cost along with the international aid and technology transfers already pledged at previous climate conferences. And although its rhetoric may not align with that of the West, China should not be imagined as opposed to climate action. China has enacted the most comprehensive climate policy on the planet, in service of its goal to peak emissions by 2030 and achieve net zero emissions by 2060. If their climate messaging remains focused on “emissions,” in light of their plan to keep using fossil fuels past 2030, they are preparing for next decade’s pivot away from fossil fuels by building out clean energy at a truly extraordinary rate.

In 2025 climate discourse will recenter on the message that halting global heating requires the phaseout of coal, oil, and gas. This new consensus will shift the politics of climate change and help motivate an urgent sprint to a clean-energy, ecologically integrated economy—the only economy that ensures a livable future.

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Faust with a Star who's an artist and asks him to pose for drawings (HCs/Short Story, whichever works for you!!)

Draw me like one of your French girls!

Bc of how cute this idea was I made it both <33

Loves being your model, doing poses you need with ease as you sketch it quickly

Honestly if you called him your muse he's giggling while telling you to stop (continue doing it he loves it so much)

If you need a specific pose he let's you move his body as you want it

Also 100% down changing outfits if you need to use them as a reference as well, he's basically Barbie with how many outfits he'll change in to

Makes silly jokes about the titanic how he's the Rose to your Jack.

When you finish the work he asks if he could post and brag about his awesome artist partner!

If you posted it already he's sharing it to all his social media platforms. Giggling as everyone complements how amazing it is

During streams he always talks about how you drew him again saying how loved he is by a artist.

"Like this?" Asking as he posed in front of Star. Looking at them with a soft smile, relaxing into the couch he lounged on. Faust's partner turned their head and smiled at the pose.

"Perfect! Your such an amazing poser! My muse!" Praising him, Star grabbed their pencil and started to sketch the base of how his body in on the couch. Preening Faust giggles hearing the nickname he loved so much.

"Is this for another commission?" Questioning, Faust watched as his artist's hand flys across the canvas. Quickly capturing how the pose is, he always loved seeing them work. It was like magic how they formed a blank surface into art.

"Yep! Red, is what he said to call him wanted an exact picture to that of Rose from the titanic. But it would be his partner." Mumbling Star's eyes shifted back and forth. From to canvas at their side to Faust posing in front of them so perfectly.

"Oh? Even naked? How scandalous~" Giggling as he wiggled his eye brows. Causing Star to snort at him, but then nodded as they recall the commission agreement.

"I know right? He got consent from his partner to send me a nude picture. Hopefully I do it justice!" Sighing out, Star remembered the first commission they did with a naked model. "I swear if I butcher it I'll quit art."

Faust pouted at that, but then remembered how distraught Star was when the commission was turned down. They tried redoing it multiple times but the commissioner just didn't like it. Huffing out Faust turned his head to them and spoke.

"Well if that person wasn't sooo picky! You wouldn't have felt bad. You redid it like....a thousand times! Honestly I wonder if they were just trolling you...." Mumbling out the last part, Faust saw Star shaking their head. Causing him to roll his eyes, Faust wishes they could see how their art was perfect and amazing.

"But still, I only need the pose then I can work from there. You wanna watch me work again? Might take longer than expected." Whispering as they focused on the canvas. Letting Faust think it over then sighing at them, shaking his head slightly.

"Can't there's this new game out I got sponsored for to play and I gotta do that before it'd deadline. Maybe when your done with this commission we can play together?" Asking hopefully, Star was on a break from gaming. To focus on finishing the few commissions they landed. Once again his partner shook their head, giving him a sad smile.

"I'm sorry muse, but I'll make it up by playing with you on Friday. I wanna focus on this commission. Don't worry I won't push myself that far." Giggling out the last bit. However Faust gave them a look, to be serious about the breaks and not pushing too far.

"I swear if you accidently don't eat for a day like last time and get sick. I'm killing you. With love of course." Smiling innocently as he batted his lashes. Star nodded at their partner, better to agree or it'll be a long conversation.

"Of course my muse, my moon, love of my life-" Babbling nicknames for him, Faust gave them another look to stop talking or they'll focus on praising him.

"Oops! Well, I'll sing your praises another day. Now, let me fix your pose real quick I think you moved a bit too much." Mumbling out as Star got up and tweaked with the pose a bit.

[simping-overload]

sampos tango

commission for @pickingpixel

First time writing smut! I like how it turned out.

summary: sampo manages to drag you into a naked wrestling tournament.

tags: dom/sub understones, naked wrestling, gay, male reader, bottom reader, top sampo, reader is not trailblazer.

word count: 2,759 | ao3 link

ヾthis is a multi-fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem alligened, please do not follow or interact with my mlm related post!! you will be blocked if you do not heed this warning ゛

You stare at the wrinkled flyer in your hand, rereading the headline for the 15th time. It an advertisement for a naked wrestling tournament? The contesents were allowed to do whatever they wanted with the opponent. Whoever wins gets a grand prize of 10,000 credits.

You look up at Sampo with a disgruntled look, "There is no way in hell I am doing this."

Sampo chuckles, slinging an arm around your shoulder, ignoring the way you sqirum under his touch. "Well, my dear, you don't have much of a choice. After all, you did lose the bet, and I have your agreement to it in writing." He says, wrapping himself further around you, pinning you to his chest. "We both know the things I can do to you if you try and back out."

He uses his other hand to tilt your head up towards him, the devious glint his eyes make the hairs on the back of your neck stand tall. You simply nodded your head to the forced agreement. His signature grin returns, and he realses you from his death grip of a hold.

Sampo clasps his hands together, "Wonderfull, my dear! Just make sure to be early. We wouldn't want you to be late after all." He turns on his heel, slipping back into the shadows, disappearing from view.

You stood there for a few more moments thinking things over. You didn't think that single simple piece of paper would have such a control over you. However, it would've been far worse if Sampo wanted it to be. You really need to stop associating yourself with him, even your colleagues, disprove of him.

They say you shouldn't trust him. He's a con artist, and he has so many enemies that probably will become yours one day. Although there's just something about him... probably just the charm of a con artist. He just seems like someone you want to keep close for whatever reason that may be.

You turn on your heel, heading into the direction of your home. Preparing for whatever shit shows you just got yourself into.

-

The place was swarming with over and underworlders alike, some you even recognized, but thankfully, none has recognized you yet. You make your way through the crowd, trying to get a glimpse of the blue hair con. For such a tall man, he is difficult to spot.

You approach the check-in desk, and there are two identical looking workers who seem to be nothing but tight boxer briefs and a name tag stuck to their muscled chest. They greet you in synch.

"Hi, I think I'm supposed to check in here? My names (Y/N) and I'm supposed to be one of the uh contestants." You managed to stammer out, trying not to get caught having your eyes anywhere but theirs.

The one on the left, Jax, begins scanning through the list while the other, Max, eyes you up and down.

"So, who dragged you into this? You don't look like you'd sign up for yourself willingly."

You sigh, shifting your weight, "I lost a bet, and I was wondering if a man named Sampo checked in? He's tall with blue hair."

Max nods and points behind you, "I think that's your guy."

Jax holds out a pen and paper out towards you, "Before you run off, we need you to sign this. It's just a consent form of what could happen during the matches."

You sign the papers quickly, thanking both of them before going to Sampo, who is leaning against a pillar scrollling in his phone. He seemed to notice your approach, making his way to you.

"Good to see you, my friend! Hope you're ready. " He grins, grabbing your hand and tugging you along with him. He brings you to what looks like to be a dressing room that only has empty hanging racks and a few of body oils spread along the counter.

Sampo clasps hands together, sly grin etched onto his face, "Well, for the first order of business, Strip."

This makes you choke on your own spit in surprise, "Can we at least go over how these rounds are gonna go and general rules too before you see me naked?"

"It's simple. It's elimination based. You defeat your opponents and climb your way up to victory. The matches are timed, so whoever is on the ground at the end loses." Sampo starts to explain and gestures to you to start removing your clothing.

You start with your shirt, shivering when the cold hair hits your skin. You slip off your shoes and socks, shivering more as your feet touch the cold tiles. While you're undoing your pants, you ignore how Sampos gaze falls on your crotch.

"I won't be participating in these matches. I won't be able to stop anyone from doing certain... things to you. So you need to make sure you dont allow anyone to get the upper hand." He places your shirt and pants on the counter, sliding your shoes and socks under.

You stop on the waist band of your boxers, nervous. You've never been naked in front of someone you knew personally. The only people that'd seen you naked are random hook-ups.

Sampo notices your hesitation, "If you're worried about being judged. Don't be. I've seen my fare share of dicks. I highly doubt yours will disappoint."

The comment made the blush on your face grow brighter. With a shakey breath, you slip out of your boxers.

"Well, that wasn't so bad. Was it? You're pretty decant size, too...nothing to be ashamed about."

"It's more embarrassing than bad, honestly. This is the first time I'll be naked in front of such a large crowd."

Sampo turns for a moment, grabbing a random bottle of body oil. "You'll be fine~ Most of the contesents are new to this too. No ones gonna judge you."

"Now, we have to smother this all over you, aside from your hands and feet, of course. Do you want to do it or me?" Sampo asks, leaning back in his chair, his eyes not so stubly trailing up your body.

"I'll do it, thanks, but you'll have to get my back. Also... I saw on the waver that people would try and have sex with their opponents? How would that even work. I thought these matches were timed." You ask, taking the bottle from his hand as you turn away from him. You put the oil on your hand, giving it a sniff. It was a subtle semll of coconut. At least you'll smell good.

"Yes, though, that matches are timed, 3 minutes each. If the pair starts to do the deed, they'll extend it to 5 so the audience can have a good show. You might even be able to see the audience getting off to it themselves. But if you're not going to do it, the matches stay the same, and as long as you have the person pinned down for a few seconds, you'll win."

You hummed, listening to him talk as you spread the oils on you. You start with the legs, making your way to your dick, quickly going over before pulling away and grabbing more oil.

You move to your torso and sides, lathering them up generously. You reach your shoulders when you feel bare hands lay themselves on your hips.

You freeze up for a moment, leaving your hands to rest on your tense shoulders. You don't even try to look up at Sampo as he begins to run his hands on your sides.

He rubs the oils into the skin even more, moving to drag the access on your lower back, dangerously close to your rear. He pulls his hand away for a meer second before pouring the oil on his hand and spreading it along your back.

The way his hands glide along your back, spreading the oils into every nook and cranny it can reach. You resist the urge to fall putty under his skilled hands.

It's a few more seconds before his hands leave your back. You nearly whined at the loss of contact.

A voice suddenly came over the rooms speakers, "All contestants, please make your way to the rink. You have 5 minutes."

You look at Sampo, who's just finished drying off his hand with an old rag. He makes his way to the door and beckons you to follow.

You follow him silently, keeping your gaze to the ground as you walk by the other naked contesents. You'd rather not get a face full of someone's junk.

You narrowly miss bumping into Sampo when he stops. Peaking out behind his large frame, you set your eyes on the wrestling ring. Stars, it was huge. So was the crowd.

If they were closer, you could've sworn they'd blown out your eardrums.

"Well, it's game time. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good. Make sure to show them who they're dealing with. The most important thing to do is win. Just do that, and those credits are ours." Sampo grins, pushing your forward into the arena.

You go to stand next to the line of contesents. Head up tall, not letting your gaze leave the crowd.

With a few announcements from the host you couldn't bother focusing on, the matches has begun. You tap your foot in anticipation, snapping out of your trance when your name is called.

"(Y/N) and Kody, please come to the stage!"

You and a very burly man make your way up the ring. You shake hand before the match begins. He gets the first hit on you, making you quickly learn that he is top heavy. You dodge the next attempt to tackle you. Moving out of the way fats enough to grip the back of his neck and slam him on the ground, making sure to force your entire body weight onto him.

The referee calls it before you send off the ring, waiting for your turn again. Sampo was right about those who tried and sometimes succeeded in having sex. They even still had cum dripping out of their holes and dicks.

Your matches didn't last long, not long enough for someone to successfully grab your dick anyway.

You reach the end smoothly, standing on the back of your last opponent as the crowd chants your name.

The chant slowly dies down when a certain blue hair con artist makes his way to the rink, the spot light shining on his naked body.

The announcers cackle over the speakers, "You guys couldn't have thought that we weren't gonna end this without a bang. Now give it up for Sampo, one of our longest running contesents! Let's see if our new hotshot can win."

You step off of the man under you, staring at the blue-eyed bastard in front of you.

He grins mischievously, "I knew you'd make it this far. Now, let's see if you can make it past me."

You don't know what to say, thoughts getting interrupted as the referee begins the match. Sampo is quick to advance, throwing you against the borders of the ring, nearly making you fall through the ropes. He grabs you in a choke hold, pressing himself against you.

You claw and scratch at his arm, freezing for a split second when he rubs himself against you. You lean forward before quickly reversing and slamming into Sampo.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!"

You managed to get Sampo off his feet and back on the ground. Slipping out of the hold, you move to pin his arms down and attempt to pin his long legs with yours.

"Just having a little fun, of course. Plus, it looks like I'm not the only one getting excited." Sampo chuckles, looking down at your harden dick.

Your head snaps down, checking to see if it was true. By the time you processed the truth, you were flipped over by Sampo.

He pins your arms with one hand, using his other to hold your hip down. He rubs himself against your, agonizingly slow.

"Sampo..." You whimper, already getting worked up. You internally curse yourself for becoming undone so quickly. You attempt to create more friction by rubbing yourself against him but fail as the hand on your hips doesn't allow you to move.

Sampo grin doesn't falter, if anything it judt grows. He leans towards you, noses almost touching.

"Yes, my dear?" Sampo asks with a teasing tone.

"Please..." You whimper out, desprate for his touch.

"Please, what? You'll have to use your words. C'mon now .." Sampo uses his thumb to rub at the dips of your hips. As if trying to be encouraging.

Sampo gazes down at you, his eyes feel like they can see your soul.

"Please fuck me, Sampo."

Sampo chuckles, taking his hand off your hip, not minding the way you start grinding your dick against his. He cups your face and gives you a soft pat before slipping two of his fingers into your mouth.

"Be a good boy and get those all nice and wet. Don't leave it dry."

You obliged, eagerly sucking off his fingers. Some of your saliva dripped its way out of your mouth and onto the floor. Sampo moves to rub himself against you again. Instead of your dick he chooses to run himself underneath your balls, having a hunch that's one of the places that you're sensitive.

Indeed, your were, the muffled moan around his fingers made it clear. This causes a tiny bit of your precum to start to drip out of your tip.

Sampo gives his hand a slight tug, a small warning before pulling his drenched fingers away from your mouth.

He moves his hand downward towards your hole. He lines his finger up with it, looking up at you for confirmation. You nod quickly.

Throwing your head back when he pushes inside, your walls tighten around him. He thrusts it in and out, letting you get used to the feeling before adding the other.

He adds the second in, despite the tightness he manages to scissor and curl his fingers. At this point, you're a drooling mess. Not at all used to his heavenly feeling. You can feel that certain knot in your stomach tighten.

You look up at Sampo, pleading eyes displaying how desprate you are for him. "Sampo, please... I need you in me so bad."

Sampo is glad he deemed you stretched out enough to take him and the way you say his name makes him want to pound you into the ground.

He slips his fingers out, admiring your the way your hole clenches around nothing. He lines his dick up, pushing in slowly. Enjoying the way you tighten around him.

You moan loudly, fuck... he felt huge, making you feel so full and good already.

He bottoms you out, balls slapping against your ass. He relases your wrists from his hold, placing his hands on either side of your head as he looks at the stomach bulge and back up at you.

You press one of your hands down on the bulge, liking the way it shapes into your skin. Sampo takes this as the queue to begin moving.

He starts out slow and hard before gradually going faster. Soon, the only thing you can focus on is the way he keeps hitting your prostate perfectly.

He moves your legs, putting them into a matting press as he thrusts deeper. He dives down, catching his lips with yours. Swallowing the sound of the beautiful sounds you let out.

His thrusts start to become erratic and sloppy as he fucks you, a sign that he's reaching his peak. You are as well.

You wrap your arms around Sampo, pressing your forehead against his, your last clouded eyes lock with his. "Fuck, Sampo I gotta cum so bad."

"Yeah I do too, let's cum together yeah?"

You nod eagerly.

"1,2,3...fuck. Baby, you feel so good." Sampo groans out, realsesing his load into you, pressing right against your protaste as he does so. You cum in long spurts, it landing mostly on your chest but some on his aswell.

He slowly takes his dick out of you once he's finished. Letting your shakey legs back onto the mat. He kisses you once more, mumbling sweet praises as he rubs your thigh.

He looks up at the referee proud and carefree look on his face.

"The winner is: Sampo!"

[copperbadge]

Radio Free Monday

Good morning everyone, and welcome to Radio Free Monday!

Just a reminder, I do these every once in a while -- except in specific cases, unless folks fill out the Radio Free Monday submissions form, I generally don't put anything not submitted via form into RFM. Partly this is to ensure I even SEE the request (tagging me on tumblr has no guarantees, I'm afraid) but it's also to ensure that I have all the relevant information. The form is linked in the bottom of every RFM post, as well as in the header of my tumblr; if you want me to see something that's the place to put it, or if you want to direct someone to Radio Free Monday, giving them the link is super helpful. Thanks all!

Ways to Give:

webkinzcode is a disabled artist and unable to work at the moment; he's raising funds to cover rent, and currently accepting donations and offering commissions. You can read more, reblog, and find giving and commission information here.

Anon linked to a fundraiser for Ola, a grad student and teacher in the faculty of science at Al-Azhar University in Gaza, whose life is one of many turned upside-down at the moment; she's raising funds to cover basic needs like food and water for her and her family. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

chibifukurou has a friend who has vertigo and EDS, and is raising funds for a second-hand Alinker (a foot-propelled mobility device); following an illness they are at an increased fall risk, and a recent fall subluxed the shoulder and collarbone on their crutch arm. You can read more and give via paypal here.

a-hackneyed-premise is raising funds for a car that is suitable transport for her disabled son; he is neurodivergent and frequently has mobility issues, and they need to be able to get him reliably to and from transport to his school. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

Anon linked to longhorned's fundraiser for Laureae, a small Native farmer who has built up her farm over the last five years and was recently served an eviction notice; she had been promised by the land owner that she would be given a purchase agreement, but the land can now be sold off and both her and her tenants like Longhorned removed. You can read more and reblog here or support the fundraiser here.

liminalweirdo is raising funds for emergency vet fees for their cat Quintin; you can read more and reblog here or support the fundraiser here.

Anon linked to a fundraiser for Pillowfort, which needs to meet a $5K goal to keep in operation beyond December of this year; they're currently at just over $3K. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

Recurring Needs:

thegeeksqueaks's school district has shorted her on her summer teacher's budget; she can't afford her own bills much less stocking her classroom for back-to-school. She's raising funds to get her students school supplies and personal support -- food and hygiene tools for underserved kids as well as various aids for neurodivergent kids. You can read more and reblog here, give via DonorsChoose here or via paypal here, or purchase from an Amazon wishlist here.

onedollopofsourcream is raising funds for food and medication for their family including young children; they need medication that is important for family mental health. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

chingaderita's family was recently impacted by a house fire that destroyed their home; their partner has been unable to work and is now ill. They're raising funds for basic needs such as food and water, as well as medication for their partner and other family members. You can read more, reblog, and support the fundraiser here.

And this has been Radio Free Monday! Thank you for your time. You can post items for my attention at the Radio Free Monday submissions form. If you're new to fundraising, you may want to check out my guide to fundraising here.

[puckpocketed]

Hello. You might have seen this floating around on twt:

link 1 // link 2, archive link

If by any chance you or someone you know are thinking about joining in on the challenge… no one can stop you but I implore you as someone who makes art, as someone with friends in an often-exploited creative industry, as someone who lives in late stage capitalism alongside you and has seen this play out before: proceed with caution.

Read the fine print on that form. There is NO guarantee of an internship, much less a job at the end of it. I haven't gone further than this form, but if anyone reading this does, and if there's no written agreement that your work won't be used without credit to you + payment for services rendered - RUN.

This is a common corporate tactic to get free labor out of people. I'm not saying this is necessarily what’s happening; for all we know this was done as a completely innocent move to drum up some fan engagement and as a genuine search for talent for their analytics team. WHO KNOWS. But I can't ignore that I’ve seen this situation play out again and again, at every scale.

Job interviews, when they ask you how YOU think they should improve their systems, how YOU would solve their problems? When they require that you do some problem-solving for them, and it goes beyond a simple task? That’s a free consultation you’re giving them, that's free work you or someone else should be getting paid for.

When big streamers/influencers ask their fans to join in on a fan art contest to choose their new pfp/banner? That’s hundreds, possibly thousands of pieces of free art they never would’ve gotten otherwise. They could've gone to the trouble of paying someone in-house to do it, hiring someone for that position, commissioning a professional for a piece. It's free work from their dedicated fans.

In this case, Utah HC is asking fans to not only choose/provide their own dataset, but to do a complex analysis on it AND do the work of visual and verbal communication to senior management, who likely do not have a deeper grasp of the concepts and will need it simplified. The stipulation that you will present your work could be ANYTHING!! The "five page deliverable" is already bananas to me, having dipped my toe into what analytics is and how complex the fun ones are. Condensing it all is WORK. The presentation portion may include speaking time and answering questions; the groundwork for doing this effectively may include producing data visualisations, making spreadsheets, time consuming write-ups. Maths and science communication is hard. It is WORK. They are asking for free labor.

Many have already called it out, but it's still gaining traction via retweets from big accounts uncritically sharing it. I found out through the official Puckpedia account. Jack Han called it out pretty eloquently on twitter and on his substack:

Many people aspire to work as an analyst in the NHL. Earlier today the Utah Hockey Club gave those people a glimmer of hope. Utah’s Summer Analytics Challenge is unusual in that it doesn’t provide a dataset or detailed instructions. The open-ended contests contrasts with other public (ex: Big Data Cup) or private (ex: NHL team interview) events. In those scenarios, participants are given proprietary data to clean, model and analyze, which influence direction and methodology. Meanwhile, Utah is seemingly happy with anything as long as the writeup is under five pages long. Utah’s contest also stands out in its near-total absence of legal fine print. There are no mention of intellectual property implications, which is perhaps fitting when the team is asking participants to bring their own data and analysis. [...] Open casting calls such as Utah’s analytics challenge start out as a lose-lose-lose proposition: > The employer loses because it will have to invest massive human resources to trawl/filter/evaluate/reverse-engineer the hundreds of write-ups it is sure to receive, with no guarantee that any of them will be of use > Applicants lose because the vast, vast majority of them will have nothing to show for their efforts, while a tiny minority risks having its IP stolen > Good ideas lose because they’ll be born into an environment where their parents (the applicant & the employer) have no defined relationship and won’t be in a position to grow together

link, archive link

I do try to keep things light on this blog, but this is super personal for me <3 thank u for listening

[uncle-cucky]

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If u don't feel like looking through the form for prices ill also post them here!

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>Fullbody

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