#Putting this here just to put something out there. Been having an art block in terms of the 3 cabs recently 💔

[kenziebluex]

The Broken Heart That Makes Us

We are back!!! (updates will be every Friday in January 😊) Hope everyone had a great finals week and happy holiday!

Story Description: 

Your arranged marriage is on its last legs. After making an agreement with your step son, Megumi, you are puzzled when you are faced with finally making a decision.

Your whole life so far has been planned for you, leading you to struggle with the idea of moving on and finding something stable…someone stable.  

Will you finally be able to let go of the life that was made for you? Will there be others out there willing to pick up the pieces?

(18+) Pairings: Toji, Goji, Geto, Nanami, & Choso.

Read on ao3: TBHTMU

Chapter 2:

You weren’t surprised when the morning after Toji was nowhere to be found. He even packed up most of his stuff this time. What wasn’t even more surprising was that he didn’t show up for his son's martial arts tournament that was 2 days later. 

You knew how important this tournament was for Megumi since it was the last tournament before he would advance up a level in his class. If he won this match he would advance a color.

So when he walked out on stage and scanned the crowd for you. You made sure you were front and center not wanting him to feel alone. His face lit up as he noticed you in the crowd wanting to wave even though you knew he wouldn’t out of fear of embarrassment. Megumi continued scanning the crowd even though you hoped he wouldn’t. 

As much as he puts on a strong face you knew one thing that he had that you regretfully had a few days ago too.

Hope.

It all happened at once you watched as a wave of realization hit him. He looked back at you for a moment and you could see a tear slowly falling down his face. You felt sick to your stomach knowing that he was hurting. Megumi seemed to realize where he was and let out a laugh to distract himself. Getting back into his starting stance. He was going to do what he always does and channel his emotions into the fight.

You can just imagine what happened next. 

Megumi won the match 3-0. 

✿❀○❀✿

Practically running backstage after the match you barely manage to not trip over your own feet. You usually waited after the match in the front with the other parents but you needed to see him. You just felt an intense urge to tell him how proud of him you were. 

“Meg,..megumi” calling out softly in the crowd of people backstage you were met with a voice you didn’t recognize.

“Megumi’s over here.” said a man you weren’t familiar with. Megumi was sitting on a chair in the far corner of the room. You didn’t need to see his face to know by his body language he was frustrated and crying.

You couldn’t help yourself but to crouch down and hug him ignoring the people that were near him once you got to him. Surprisingly you were met with a tight hug back as he silently sobbed into your shoulder. Megumi usually doesn’t like public affection but you figured this was his one exception. 

“I’m so sorry Meg, but I'm so proud of you” you whispered next to his head, not wanting to draw more attention to him. Continuing to hold him and assuring him everything is okay you finally look up at the man that was standing in front of you as if he was blocking the view so you two could have some privacy. 

The back of the man had your eyes almost popping out the back of your head. The man was wearing a tight black compression shirt that made sure to emphasize the muscles on his shoulder and back. You could almost see the outlines of his veins and the back of the shirt left little to the imagination. He had to be a security guard. 

“Excuse me” you say softly because you didn't want to alarm Megumi. He didn’t seem to hear what you said which you figured would be the case. It was very loud backstage with the people and the wrap up music playing. Reaching out to touch his arm you hesitated causing you to jerk back.

The sudden movement seemed to have got his attention. He turned around and you wished he hadn't. 

“My god.” your eyes instantly locked on to his abs. You were right earlier at this point he might as well just not have worn a shirt. His abs were hugging the shirt and you could have sworn you could see his nipples if you looked hard enough. You could tell this man worked out daily. 

His white hair was pushed back and don’t get me started on his beautiful blue eyes. They seemed to sparkle even though the lighting wasn’t shining directly on him. He looked like a delicate painting that would be hung on the wall in an art museum. You were sure you could write a poem about how handsome- 

“SORRY” you say in a horrified whisper when you realize you have spent the last minute staring at his body. 

“You can stare all you want.” the man said with a smirk before bending down to the level me and Megumi were on. He was even more intimidating up close. 

“You guys okay? I saw him crying and led him over here for some privacy. I know these matches can be quite intense.” he sounded different from the joking tone he just displayed a second before. His voice was filled with genuine concern. 

“We are okay sorry for worrying you Sensei.” Megumi said, removing his head from my arm while slowly standing up. Sensei? I have never seen him before. I would have remembered meeting him. I stood up to not wanting to be kneeling on the hard floor any longer. 

It was a brief awkward silence as we all stood up not sure which one of us was going to talk first. I could barely look at the man in front of me, still embarrassed from my actions earlier.

“Mom this is Sensei Satoru Gojo, he’s a Sensei for the upper class students. He offered me a spot in his class.” Megumi said, breaking the silence. I turned to Megumi in disbelief, usually he asks permission before accepting after school classes. 

"We will talk about it at home Megumi." you said trying to put a positive smile on your face. You were met with a smile back and knew you would give in.

✿❀○❀✿ - (big jump skip, present time)

It’s been two years since you’ve been  rebuilding your life after divorcing Toji. To be honest, life became…somewhat peaceful. But it would be a lie if you said that overcoming everything was easy. The marriage was arranged to benefit your father so you thought divorcing had a heavy price to pay.

 Time passed and marriage to Toji was no longer needed for the firm’s success, making it just another fruitless expense. You still can’t believe that your dad uprooted your life based on a whim  just for you to go through hell and in the end, everything fell apart. But, you couldn’t complain much. After all, Megumi was all yours and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You figured that finally getting into a steady beat while taking care of Megumi was going to be a breeze. (Since that was something you were doing anyway.) And you know that he is not the type to complain much about anything. However, a guilty reminder racked your brain. 

Megumi needed someone to look up to. Up until now, you have always been the safety net to Toji’s broken promises and a part of you feels ashamed for separating him from his father. You concluded that enrolling him into Gojo-sensei’s martial arts classes was a good sign since it was the first time he truly asked for something from you. So, you gave Megumi all the support he needed to succeed and that’s why you’re parked outside of the dojo 20 minutes early before his class ends, right?

You eyed the rearview mirror while making final touches on your lashes with your mascara until you heard a blaring car horn. Shocked out of your focus, the mascara skidded leaving a dazzling black streak under your eye. Your head snapped outside the driver’s seat window of your blue Chevrolet Equinox.

“What the hell? They’re early!” The panic fell from your lips as you worked double time trying to tidy up the mess under your eye and fumbled through your purse to prepare to go inside. The other students filed out of the dojo and into their parents' cars while you had to prepare for a ‘fun parent-teacher conference’ as Gojo had stated. 

You exited your car, with your shoulder bag in tow and entered the dojo with a million thoughts running through your head.

‘Why a conference? Is Meg finally going through his rebellious phase?’ 

A thoughtless sigh escaped your lips as you discarded your heels to step up to the tatami mat of the cleared out dojo where only two people remained. 

 As soon as you passed through the double doors, brilliant clear quartz blue eyes pinned you in place. Phantom white hair slicked back from the sweat of a rigorous practice. The wet of his forehead trickled down into the scandalously opened chest of his white Gi that no doubt explored down the rest of his well-toned body. 

“Mama Megumi has such shameless eyes.” Serpent like words hummed from a deep bassy voice. You blinked twice as your gaze focused on the playful grin that tugged the lips of the tall mischievous man. He allowed the collar of his Gi to fall slightly, parading more of his wickedly muscled peck. Your lips tightened at his obvious teasing. 

You ignored his taunt and shifted your gaze to Megumi, who wore a similar Gi but a color belt of a few ranks below. 

“Meg, is everything ok?” You asked, fully focusing on your son whose typical spiky black hair laid flat from his work out. 

Megumi’s eyes shifted back and forth between you to Gojo, lightly acknowledging the banter.

 It was always a game between you two. He’d flirt, you’d ignore. You tease and he bites back. It was a battle of wits everytime you two met which is precisely why you wouldn’t play his game today. Megumi’s wellbeing always came before whatever shallow flirting you had going on.

“Yeah mom. I-.” Megumi began.

“Megumi is doing just fine.” Gojo interrupted as he swung a lazy arm over Megumi’s shoulders. Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“I don’t get it then. Why did we need a conference?” Your arms slumped as you felt the rush of worry escape your body. All that was left was confusion. Gojo had whispered something to him and after a formal bow, Megumi departed to go gather his belongings. 

Gojo leisurely planted his hands on his hips and gilded himself towards you, leaving only a forearm’s length in between. His towering figure overshadowed your frame as the heat of his gaze spoke a thousand words. 

“I think we are past the stage of stick-up-your-ass formalities.” Gojo purred. Playfulness showered his lips while his eyes left a danger to be desired. 

“I don’t have time for games when it involves my son, sensei.” You answered firmly. He raised a hand and used his thumb to brush under your eye. You assumed he was cleaning up the aftermath of your mascara but heat remained as his thumb caressed your cheek. 

You gently slapped his hand away and it fell to his side. You shot him a glare warning him to stop wasting your time. He smirked, humored at your fiery response.

“I just wanted to do a follow up for the letter I sent you through the mail.” He confessed.  Your head fell to the side and your eyes trekked downwards in deep thought. You don’t remember receiving any mail recently from him but then again…

“Ah-. I changed my address.” You raised your head too quickly not knowing Gojo hovered low enough where his nose barely brushed yours. You took in a gasp. 

Gojo studied your face and his peering blue eyes paused at your lips. You subconsciously wetted them with your tongue and you watched his breath hitch. His eyes then fell to your chest that teasingly left the first two buttons open of your blazer. 

“This is our new address! We fully moved in about a year ago.” You broke the tension. Your body turned to fumble through your purse looking for a small piece of paper and a pen. You settled for an old restaurant business card and began to write your address on the back. 

With his index and middle finger, Gojo swiftly swiped the card from your hands. He exchanged looks with the card and your face and then looked back at the card and flipped it over. He snorted a laugh and covered his mouth to contain it. 

“What?” You shrugged trying to take a peek at the card to see if you spelled something wrong. 

He flipped the card up to your face.

“Coupon for Chuck N Cheese’s?! Are you 6?!” He threw his head back and boomed in laughter. You shoved his shoulder and attempted to swipe the business card back. He was faster than you and raised the card in the air to force you to jump for it.

“Give it back, dickcheese.” You leaped again and attempted to take the card back. Gojo’s wicked smile only grew while he watched your embarrassed reaction. 

“Ha! And I’m the childish one?!” You huffed.

You felt a hand curl around your back and he pulled your chest against his. The force sent you both tumbling with Gojo breaking your fall. 

Your eyes grew wide as your chest pressed plush against his and his long legs straddling the sides of you. You tried not to focus on something rock solid that bullied its way against your pelvis. You felt his hand on your back slowly rub up and down, teasing the top of your ass. 

He took another glance at the card with your address written on it.

“Got it. I’ll swing by tomorrow at 8. Dress nicely.” He ordered and you pushed yourself up to meet him face to face. 

“What game are you playing?” You whispered looking for deception in his gaze. His head fell back on the mat and he gazed up at you under hooded eyes. His hand stopped just before the curve of your ass. He parted his lips as he was about to answer.

“Oi, pervert!” A bellow emerged from the changing room and you quickly scrambled to your knees and Gojo sat up after you. Megumi’s face was twisted in disgust directed at Gojo. 

Before another word was uttered, Megumi marched over to you and pulled you up by the wrist. He stood in front of you protectively. However, Gojo was completely unphased.

“Oh! That reminds me. I wanted to recommend Megumi to extra practices. I think he could train for a higher belt before the end of the year.” Gojo explained nonchalantly. He perched up his knee and rested his elbow on it while flicking the card back and forth in between his fingers. 

You rubbed the temples of your forehead.

‘This could have been a fucking email.’ You groaned internally. 

“Of course…I do need a parent’s approval. It means that he’s going to be training more during the week and I wanted to make sure that was ok with you.” Gojo rose up to his feet. You were taken aback at how reasonable his explanation was. Watching Gojo flirt back and forth from playful to serious was kind of sexy in a way.

His gaze turned soft as he eyed Megumi knowingly.

“I want to see him succeed.” Gojo confessed. You noticed the flicker of sincerity in his tone. 

Keeping up with Megumi’s practices was hellish already. Although moving gave you the distance you needed and the living space Megumi deserved, traveling was brutal. His shoulders slumped. He knew this too. But if jujutsu martial arts was something he wanted to do, distance be damned!

“I think we can spare a few extra days. Right Meg?” You placed two hands on his shoulders and he turned his back to face you in disbelief. Then, the pinch of hope you briefly saw in his eyes disappeared in an instant.

“But you’ve been pushing yourself. There are no buses near our house and you have to drive me to school everyday and then from school to practice. I don’t want to be a burden again…” The last part of his sentence trailed off almost like a silent apology. He almost struggled to look you in the eye. Being a burden was the last thing you wanted Megumi to think. Especially after it took years to heal the wounds his father left that made him have those thoughts.

“Erm! *cough* I’ll take Meggy home if he’ll need a ride.” Gojo suggested. Both you and Megumi snapped your heads towards him. Megumi pondered the suggestion.

“This just gives me more reasons to camp out at your doorstep.” He continued and once again wore a mischievous grin. You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes.

“Stalker.” You uttered while guiding Megumi to the exit. 

“Remember! 8 O’Clock on the Dot! Okay??? Do you hear me?!! Hey!!! Hey helloooo!!!” You heard Gojo holler from behind you as you and Megumi exited the dojo. You displayed a pretty little middle finger to Gojo without sparing him a glance. 

“Mom, don't associate with him. He’s ill.” 

“Yeah…I know.”

tag: @beetusbritt❤ @nousija divider by @cafekitsune art credit 1: ig: arekushisu (commission do not use) art credit 2: twitter: ayushnz_ ❀follow for more ❀ ao3: kenzieblue❀ -kenzie & des

[nilfgaardianleviosa]

I wrote a short one-shot to commemorate Catviman, because he's amazing and I love him. Thank you, @rivaerys, for letting me do something for your art! Just in time for Levi's b-day, too.

More than Just a Hobby 1.3k words, 5 min read, mostly fluff Tw: Cat-calling, short instance of being followed

“Come on, pretty lady. Where you going?”

You hugged your purse tighter across your body, walking briskly down the dark street. This creep had been following you for the past five blocks now. There was no one else around. You had deliberately avoided going straight to your house, trying to think of a way to shake the guy or at least call the cops before he caught up to you. 

Damnit, where the hell was your phone?

His voice came closer than before. “I promise to show you a good time.”

You ignored him, digging through your purse. When your fingers finally brushed the glass screen, you internally rejoiced. But then, not a second later, the creep was practically on top of you. He caught your wrist and sneered in your face, smelling strongly of alcohol and cigarettes. “Whatcha got in there, huh?”

“L-Let go!”

He tightened his grip, and the thought of screaming finally came to mind, but something beat you to the punch. 

Meow!!

There was a flash of black, and your stalker lurched away, screaming as a small cat latched onto his face. It yeowled and hissed, paws flying as it viciously clawed at his eyes. You stumbled back in shock, watching the man grasp and struggle, trying unsuccessfully to rip the feral cat off of him. 

Then, right as you thought you might have understood what was going on, a man clad in black appeared next to you. He stepped forward and delivered a swift roundhouse kick to the stalker’s torso. 

“Gwaahhh!” The stalker fell to the ground in a heap, and the cat jumped away, gracefully landing on the pavement. The man wallowed in pain on the sidewalk, clutching his bleeding face.

The events were jarring enough to make you cry out in confusion. “Oh my goodness!”

“Calm down, please,” said the man in black, adjusting his gloves. Directing your attention to him revealed a sight that you couldn’t quite believe.

There, standing with his arms crossed, was Catviman. 

The mysterious hero of the city. An infamous crime fighter known far and wide. Although he worked outside the law, the police sometimes relied on him to catch the city’s toughest criminals. A few times you had been lucky enough to see the giant cat-shaped spotlight they beamed into the sky during times of need. You had pictures of it on your cell phone to show off to your friends. They would never believe this. 

Catviman was…shorter than you had imagined. He was wearing his signature cat-eared helmet and red goggles over his eyes. The shine of his leather suit bulged with lean muscles, and to top off the classic Catviman look you had seen in the papers, there was a deep scowl set into his face. 

It was really him. 

As you searched for words to say, his cat trotted over. He leaned down to let it jump onto his shoulder, and you noticed for the first time that it was wearing a tiny white cravat. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, standing up straight and reaching up to scratch the cat’s cheek. It purred and happily craned its neck to get more scritches under the chin. 

This was surreal. “Uh—yeah. Thanks, for saving me.”

“Don’t mention it.” He pulled out a phone and dialed a number before putting it to his ear. “Hey, it’s me. Got another one, corner of fiftieth and Rainey.” As he went to hang up, someone shouted at him from the other line. 

“Damnit Catviman! Can we have five minutes to—“ 

Click. 

“Cops’ll be here soon,” he said, pocketing the phone. “You’ll need to give them a witness report. Shouldn’t take long.”

“Oh, okay.” You stood there in silence for a moment, still in a bit of shock. The stalker groaned, writhing in pain on the ground. Then you remembered your manners. “Is there anything I can do to thank you? I do have some cash…” You began to dig for your wallet, but he held a hand out to stop you. 

“Please don’t worry about it. I’m not here for your money.”

You looked at him, a bit wide-eyed. “Then what should I give you?”

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded once, completely straight faced. “Positive.”

Wow, Catviman wasn’t just a crime fighter, he had a heart of gold. But even if this was just a hobby for him, you didn’t want to walk away without showing some appreciation. “Well, at least let me thank your cat for saving me.”

Catviman raised his shoulder, bouncing his sidekick slightly as he gave it a dirty look. “Psh, this guy? He gets spoiled enough with treats.”

You walked closer anyway, reaching your hand out and giving him a questioning look. “Maybe just some pets then?”

“Uh, sure.”

You let the cat sniff your fingers before going up to scratch his head. He happily closed his eyes in response, purring loudly and tilting his head when you rubbed his ears. “Aw, you’re so sweet. Thank you for saving me, Mister.”

“His name is Nightwing.”

“How cute!” You leaned in to let the cat touch his nose to yours, leaving you smiling when you turned to meet Catviman’s eyes. His gaze was intense from underneath the red goggles. You took in a breath, realizing how close you had gotten just by petting his sidekick. Catviman was really quite handsome. “Um, he’s really sweet.”

“Yeah.” His voice was deep and smooth. It gave you a sense of comfort and familiarity. 

You blushed. “Can I, uh, can I give you something, too?”

“Like what?”

“A small token of my appreciation?”

Catviman stared at you for another moment, unsure of what to say. You touched his arm and leaned forward, and he tensed. “What are you—“

Before he could react, you planted a soft kiss on his cheek. One fit for a hero. 

Catviman huffed as you pulled away, rubbing his cheek as the other one turned a shocking shade of pink. “That’s…you didn’t have to do that.”

“But I wanted to. It’s the least I could do.”

“Tch, alright.”

He regained his poise and met your gaze, and you felt a tug at your heart. Something about this mysterious masked man enticed you beyond words. Maybe you could ask for his number, just in case you needed to call him, with an emergency of course. 

A police siren chirped, and red and blue lights flashed brightly throughout the street. You turned to watch a cop car pull up next to the curb. Two disgruntled officers climbed out and began to walk over.

“You alright, ma’am?” one asked. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” You turned to give Catviman the credit for your well-being, but the street was empty save for your stalker. 

Catviman was gone. 

—

That night, you dreamed of a cat-eared helmet and a tiny cravat, and of getting to thank Catviman with a proper kiss. His strong arms would have wrapped around you, holding you in a safe embrace as his lips met yours over and over again. Just like the romantic scenes in the superhero movies. 

But maybe he was destined to be the one that got away.

Nonetheless, in the morning you felt incredibly happy. Thankful to just be safe, and to know that someone amazing had saved you, even if he didn’t share the same interest you had for him. 

When you walked into the break room at work, itching to tell someone your story, you were ecstatic to see your favorite cat-loving coworker making his morning tea. 

“Levi! You’ll never guess what happened to me last night.”

He turned, leaning on the counter with a mug in his hands, and he gave you that signature bored look. “Please make it interesting this time.”

…catviman

[lambsonburn]

TAG Analysis - Ep I (first minute)

To preface, this analysis will be very, VERY long because I simply can’t help myself. It also may very well be in parts.

With the length of it, I’ll put a read more thing (or hope I have, I’ve never used the feature before) so it’s not a massive block of text for people to scroll past :)

For starters, the opening scene of the show is crafted so beautifully. Firstly, we the audience see the danger before we see who in danger. Even though this is such a simple, subtle thing, it’s so effective because this is the perfect way to define what the show is and what it’s about - daring rescues of those in situations which in our world would seem near impossible to aid, which just adds to the heroics of IR.

Furthermore, the way the characters are introduced is incredible. As with before, we hear the man’s voice before we see him - creating a similar effect as to previous. But he is presented in such a way that leads our eyes up his form and to his head because we know that he is the one making the SOS which makes the sudden interruption of the child so much better. It’s an “oh shit he’s not alone” type reaction, even though the child is very visible next to him. Also the way they are positioned in the balloon, how it’s at an angle, makes the father falling out seem almost inevitable. Plus, the idea to give them hats makes the scene even better because the act of them falling off and out of shot just adds to the tension.

As a quick little side piece, the use of music is fab. I would go more in-depth about the music if I could but I’m not very well music versed being an art kid; that and it’s been a few years since I last played clarinet so some things are a little vaguer now. To begin, the music in the first 20 seconds - it’s in a repeating pattern, three times up once down twice in a row. Then it goes to a lower register when the father begins to speak which not only allows us to hear him much clearer but also adds to the danger of the scene. Then after he climbs back in it begins to crescendo upwards before including a motif (that I’m pretty sure is used in other episodes) but sounds more heroic-y (I think it shifts to major key but I’m not sure).

The arrival of TB2 from the clouds is so well done, my god. Not only is how it appears so well handled, but the music that accompanies it too. Its presence in the scene is so well crafted. The balloon is to the side, still swaying out of control as to still elicit the danger, but the camera is zooming out. This makes the balloon seem smaller so that when TB2 appears it looks, frankly, fucking huge. What’s even better is that we hear then see it. We hear its engines so clearly that it cuts through the music. We can’t see it but we know where it will appear because the balloon is kept to one side of the screen. The music when it appears is also handled so well. Instead of the faster, scaling initial notes, they’re now much more drawn out. Yes these notes are still scaling upwards, but instead being fear-inducing it leans towards heroism especially with what I think is a gong 34/35 seconds into the ep which really just adds to the feel (it’s uplifting!!). And after, it goes into one of the main motifs played when on rescues. And then it changes AGAIN!!! Just as he grabs the child, it picks up - it gets faster. Nothing has happened but you know that something will. Also the wide shot at 48s initially doesn’t appear to furthering the story, but what it does do is further dramatise the danger. Simply “look, we’re 10,000 ft in the air. There is nothing around us.” You see this openness and you know that that man will fall and he does. And just before we get the drama… BAM intro sequence. It builds so much suspense because you know what’s happening, you know someone’s life is at stake but you have to wait through an incredible cool intro sequence to find out what happens.

Probably leave here for now, at least for an hour or so before I come back to it.

[fi3stazo]

Some old lighting practice with an AU

—————  Do NOT repost, edit, trace, or use my art in any way. Thanks.

[risingsunresistance]

twitter is entering their "rts > likes" phase now that likes are private after they spent years calling us ungrateful for being demotivated by ratios lmao

[spock-smokes-weed]

gonna get heavy for a min so scroll if you don't want to see that

it's really hard to open up to my parents about being suicidal because they always freak the fuck out about it. this is probably an ironic thing to say, but I wish I could just tell people "hey I really want to kill myself" without it being a big deal

like YES i know it's a big deal. That's why I'm talking to you about it! the last thing I need is you panicking and screaming at me "why do you want to kill yourself?!!?" gee idk cheryl, if i knew that I probably wouldn't want to kill myself.

suffering with extreme depression is bad, but my parents going in total freakout mode is somehow so much worse. because it stops being about me and what im suffering through, and becomes about not upsetting my parents.

so every day I just have to get up and tell them "oh yea im fine" when I have casual thoughts about wanting to die because I know if I told them, it wouldn't make a damn difference. i would just have to bottle those emotions right back up because my parents have the emotional maturity of toddlers

im just so fucking exhausted, ya know? I don't think I'll ever act on it cus im a coward and dying is scarier than being alive, but moving through life drained of all your joy, having your brain hold death and suicide over your head, is a miserable existence. I just want to be fucking happy again but the mountains look so large to scale

[gojorgeous]

"business or pleasure?"

pairing: gojo x fem!reader summary: the gojo clan decides it’s time to secure an heir… and you’re the lucky woman selected for the job… content: HEAVY breeding, arranged marriage, language, praise, dacryphilia, p->v, fingering, mating press, a lil’ blood (if you squint), pet names, implied multiple rounds, gojo just generally being a menace, no established relationship, reader and gojo literally just met, reader is literally there for the purpose of getting pregnant, positive pregnancy test at the end, ideas of women as baby incubators :x, consent king gojo. wc: 3.7k a/n: I HAVE RETURNED!!! Hey!!!!!! Long time no see, babes. I was looking at my account and I haven’t posted a fic in *cough* TWO YEARS. There is simply no way that’s real 😭 Anyway, I’ve returned with something slightly different: A Gojo fic. You’re welcome. Mwah. Also, please send messages I miss y'all. happy new year bbs. and remember, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!

It’s only your third time in Japan. The first had been to visit family friends when you were eight, the second for a girls’ trip after you graduated college. You liked it. Tokyo was bright and busy and full of shops and things to do. The countryside always offered beauty and peace. But this third time was different. No shopping, no temples, no amusement parks. You were here for business, not pleasure. 

You run a finger along the edge of a mahogany bookshelf. Your feet are killing you, a flick of your ankles tossing your heels across the room. Your nose wrinkles when you land on a particular title. The Art of War? Interesting choice… You scan the other books, and your brows rise when you find a strange combination of academics, young adult, manga, and high fantasy? A multi-genre reader, then…

You absentmindedly rub at the arch of your foot, pushing out the ache as best you can. A day so full of stress has left you weary. Your mother hadn’t stopped hovering until the moment you’d escaped into your car, a new husband on your arm. 

You sigh. You could still hear the shower running along with said husband humming loudly to a tune you didn’t recognize. At least your groom wasn’t shy. 

A glance toward the bed has your brows raising. Were those… squishmallows? One looked like a shark, the other like a… sushi? You press your lips together, avoiding a laugh he would surely hear. You make your way to the mattress, sighing when you finally get to sit. You pull the sushi into your arms, hugging the pillow to your chest, but it no longer seemed so funny anymore. You had bigger things to think about. Your legs press together in a mix of anticipation and anxiety. All the way from America you’d come to marry the Gojo heir. It had been a rushed arrangement. Apparently, the Gojo clan had finally put their foot down and decided their heir should finally get to the business of making another heir. There’d been a search far and wide for the best match and somehow, they’d settled on you. An accomplished sorcerer yourself and abilities in your blood that only strengthened those of the Gojo line, you’d been an suitable pick. It didn’t hurt that you were young, healthy, and (upon a trip to a renowned fertility clinic) proven to be very fertile. 

Your parents had been oh-so eager to accept the Gojo clan’s proposition. The Gojo heir’s power hadn’t been matched in nearly 400 years. Any and every family would jump at the opportunity to be tied to them, especially through marriage and heirs. You were surprised you’d been chosen considering all of the options there must have been. 

Satoru seemed… fine, you thought. You hadn’t had much time to talk with him privately. The first time you’d met had been on a phone call with both of your sets of parents present and the next had been at the altar. At one point in the night he’d asked a waiter to refill your wine glass and he’d been a rather good dancer. Other than that, you’d been pulled apart at all odds and ends until you’d come back here: his apartment. 

You’d expected something a little more lavish for your wedding night, especially considering the spectacle that your wedding had been. Ice sculptures, thousand dollar bouquets, and diamond encrusted wedding rings had turned to an elegantly decorated bachelor pad. A glance around revealed a space that was obviously lived in, with odd mixes of $10,000 dollar chairs and… squishmallows.

You sink onto the edge of the bed, eyes peeling over the half-moons of your nails and the heavy gems that now sit on the fourth finger of your left hand. They are a weight you feel the pressure of. A pressure to live up to expectations, to produce a much-desired product. 

A door opens down the hall and you realize the pounding of water and the lilting of a hum has ceased. Your husband is done with his shower. 

A few seconds later he reveals himself, prancing down the hallway and into his bedroom like it’s just another Tuesday and not his wedding night. A plush blue towel is slung low around his waist and from the rivulets of water running all over his body you judge that he hadn’t even taken the time to properly dry off. Not that you mind.

You’d known your new husband was beautiful but you’d never imagined he’d be so… so goddamn seductive. 

Washboard abs, toned arms, sculpted back, wet hair and icy eyes… he was the image of a god. 

“Sorry for making you wait. I really needed that.” 

Gojo prods at his temples, eyes squished shut in what looked like a moment of pain. You’d heard of this problem from the clan. He hadn’t worn his blindfold all day for the sake of the wedding. It was no wonder the effects were catching up with him. 

“No problem.” 

A small smile reveals just a few blinding teeth and you could swear your vision went out for just a moment. 

“You hungry?” 

You arch a brow. The man had eaten two full plates and practically half the cake not yet an hour ago. 

“Can’t say that I am.” 

“Hm.” 

He nods and you watch as he plucks a stray candy off his bedside table, tossing the wrapper to the floor. 

“So, uh-” You watch the butterscotch bulge in his cheek. “You really wanna do this?” 

You glance at your half-naked husband who is practically a walking temptation. You take a breath. He’s standing so casually, as if this is a normal conversation to be having and not something life-altering.

“You don’t?” you ask.

All that gets you is a shit-eating grin. 

“Never said that.” 

You can’t help the smirk that crawls across your lips. 

“Well, we might as well get it over with, no?” 

Another flash of pearly whites. 

“Get it over with, hm?” 

You miss his meaning, pulling at a loose thread on the bedspread. 

“It shouldn’t take much effort. I’m on so many fertility meds you could probably spit on me and I’d get pregnant.” 

You pick at the thread a little more, biting your lip when you realize it’s one of those strands that’s infinite. 

“That so?” 

You jolt when a speck of wetness lands on your cheek. A quick glance reveals a fuzzy blue towel far too close for comfort. A half-naked Gojo is a whole lot closer than he’d been just seconds ago. How is he so quiet? 

Blue eyes bore into yours, water dripping down white strands and onto your skin. He’s so damn tall. He has your neck craned all the way back just to meet his gaze. 

“Yes.” You swallow. “It was part of our prenup.”

Dazed. You’re absolutely dazed. 

“Well, we probably shouldn’t risk breaking a legally binding contract, hm?” 

Closer. He’s coming closer. Too close. 

You lean back, scooting yourself up the bed in a feeble attempt to get a little more space, your emotional support sushi tumbling to the floor. He follows right after you. 

Something primal thrusts through your veins at the sight of a man, sopping wet and smirking, crawling after you, some mix of teasing and pure drive hidden in his eyes. Gojo doesn’t stop, not until you’re nearly pressed against the headboard and his arms cage your waist. Close. Too close. 

You’d thought he would have dried a bit by now, but water still slicks off his skin and hair, showering you lightly. You shiver and your husband notices. His tongue darts out to lick his lips and you get a breath of the sweetness of butterscotch and mint toothpaste. 

“You say stop,” he breathes, “and we stop.”

He leans closer, so close you can smell the eucalyptus and myrrh of his shampoo, the musk of his body wash, the candied sweetness of his breath. Those piercing blue eyes flit to your lips and back up again. 

A breath, a pause. 

“Stop?” he asks. His eyes are piercing.

You shake your head. 

“Go.” 

Lips, teeth, tongue. All of it hits you at once. For a moment you’re too shocked to respond, but then his weight is leaning on you and his hand is on your waist and his mouth tastes like candy and- and then you’re kissing him back. 

A heavy hand digs into the flesh of your waist and your hands find a patch of damp white hair to tangle in. 

He tastes good- too good and when a deft hand guides you down to the mattress you start to think that this whole baby-making business might not be so bad after all. 

Teeth knock, tongues touch, and you are on the edge of what would have been a particularly throaty moan when he pulls away. 

His attention shifts elsewhere, kisses trailing down your neck and hands straying to your hips.

“Have you-” a kiss to your collarbone. “Done this before?”

You freeze.

“What?” 

Gojo raises his head a bit and the most irritating kind of smirk plays on his lips. 

“Don’t know- thought maybe this was a virgin for your super rich husband kinda thing?” 

You shove his head back down.

“Shut up.”

He chuckles and the sound vibrates against your skin. 

“Okay, sp no need to go slow then…” 

His lips continue their assault, brushing and grazing over your skin until it lifts with goosebumps. Your breaths come a little faster, a little heavier and you gasp when his hand curls beneath the hem of your skirt.

“Oh? What’s this?” His fingers brush against the garter that rests at the top of your thighs. Your cheeks heat. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why had you agreed to wear the damn thing? You reach down, hoping to quickly rid yourself of the scrap of fabric before you can become oven more mortified. You’re just about to clamp down on it when Gojo catches your wrist. “Ah, ah. No need to be so hasty.” Your hand is easily pinned down to the mattress and, for some reason, you don’t fight it. 

Your breath catches when your skirt lifts only for Gojo to dive beneath it without a second thought. You feel his teeth grazing across the skin of your thigh. 

“Gojo-” you breathe, squirming. 

His head reappears suddenly, another one of those mischievous grins gracing his lips. “Satoru when I’m about to be inside you, baby.” 

He disappears again and you gasp and wiggle when you feel his tongue laving across the inside of your thigh. 

His teeth graze you again, but this time they clamp down on the garter and you feel it slowly sliding across your skin, down, down, past your knee and eventually to your ankle where Satoru finally yanks it past your foot with a final tug. 

You stare at him, wide eyed and lustful. That had to have been one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen. 

Satoru plucks the garter from his teeth and dangles it in front of his eyes. It’s a white, lacy little thing that matches the shade of his hair. He’s grinning again when he slides it onto his wrist like a bracelet– no, like a trophy.

“Thanks for the present.” He’s still grinning, still staring, his fingers still fiddling with the hem of your skirt. “How attached are you to this dress?” he asks. 

You blink, swallowing nervously, unable to break away from his gaze. It’s too strong, too mesmerizing. “Not… attached at all,” you manage. It’s true. Somebody else picked it out, and you’ve only been wearing it for about an hour– and it’s not like you can’t just buy a new one now with access to the Gojo bank accounts. 

His grin somehow grows even wider. “Good girl. Just what I wanted to hear.” 

There’s a splitting sound and suddenly your dress is tearing straight down the middle. It’s slow and controlled and you wonder if he’s practiced at this or if his strength is just that regulated. You find yourself hoping it’s the latter. 

The dress is ripped from your skin and you see it land somewhere across the room. You hear something shatter along with a thud, but Satoru seems anything but worried, so you ignore it. 

You’re bare in just your undergarments, a lacy white set that you’re now half proud of and half embarrassed by. 

Satoru whistles and his hands settle on your waist. “Damn, baby. Why’d you keep all this hidden for so long?” 

You scoff, your confidence surging. You reach for him, grabbing a scruff of hair at the back of his neck and pulling him close. “You’re the one taking your sweet time, Toru.” 

The sound of the nickname on your lips makes him shiver and you smirk triumphantly.

“Hmm…” is all he says as his fingers trail lower, lower, lower, until they’re dipping beneath the band of your panties. It’s somewhere between tortuous and ticklish and you squirm. “Ah, ah. Hold still for me, now.” He presses one hand to the valley between your breasts, holding you down as his other hand continues lower. When his thumb finds the wet spot on your panties and presses down your back arches and your breath escapes. 

He chuckles. “Little needy, aren’t you?” His thumb moves a little higher, grazing your clit, and you whimper. 

With one deft movement he unclasps your bra, tossing it aside. You register for just a moment that your chest is now completely bare, but soon enough his mouth is closing around your nipple and all else is forgotten. 

“S-Satoru!” you whisper. Your voice feels hoarse, even if it has no reason to be. 

His thumb continues its assault between your thighs. “So wet already, baby…” He sounds ecstatic. The grin on his lips makes you whine. “Let’s get these out of the way…” Before you know it, you hear more tearing and then cold air hits your cunt. You cry out when Satoru’s thumb returns to its ministrations, but this time there’s no cloth barrier to dull the sensation. Your hands push out and your nails curl into his bare shoulders. You need him closer.

“Satoru…” you breathe. “Kiss me…” 

That shit-eating grin returns, but he follows your command. “As my wife wishes.” 

When lips meet yours it’s hot and messy. Your nails claw down his back and you’re sure you’re leaving marks. If he minds, he certainly doesn’t show it.

His thumb continues at your clit as a finger prods at your entrance. When he slides in slowly, you gasp. He murmurs something about you being so sensitive, and proceeds to quickly find that gummy spot inside you that makes you see stars. Before you know it he’s adding a second finger and soon your hips are rocking against his thrusts, meeting his pace as you chase your high. 

“God, you’re so wet.” he whispers against your lips. True to his word, he’s been kissing you, never letting up in his attack on your mouth. “Bet you taste like fucking heaven.”

You whine, your hips stuttering against his hand. “G-Gonna… I’m–” 

He grins again, and pulls away just enough to meet your gaze. “Go ahead, baby. Cum for me.” Your eyes flutter shut, your head rolling back– “Nuh, uh. Keep those eyes open. Wanna see every second.” 

Your breaths flutter and you whimper loudly, the sound bouncing on the walls. You’re not sure why you listen, why you fight to keep your eyes open, locked on him, but you do. Maybe you’re afraid he’ll pull away and leave you wanting… or maybe you just want to please him.

You feel your muscles clenching in your stomach, hear the sloppy sounds of Satoru’s fingers thrusting in and out of you, see the gleeful anticipation in his eyes. His thumb rubs a particularly delicious circle around your clit and you feel yourself thrown over the edge. 

You can’t help but be loud. You hold his gaze the whole time, whimpering and whining his name as you gush all over his sheets. Your cunt spasms around his fingers, clenching, holding him inside, desperate to be filled. You hear him panting above you, like watching has somehow taken his breath away. 

“Good girl,” he whispers and you feel a second wave of pleasure ripple through you. 

You feel weak by the time your orgasm leaves you. Your muscles are limp and your cunt is so sensitive that you flinch when Satoru removes his fingers. He brushes a tear from the corner of your eye and you watch as he brings his sopping fingers to his mouth, sucking your juices clean. He moans, a deep throaty sound, like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. You watch his eyes roll back in his skull, watch his throat bob as he swallows. Your lips part at the sight. 

His fingers fall from his mouth with a pop and his grin returns.

“Just like I thought,” he says. “Heaven.” 

He’s back on you in a second, licking a stripe from your collarbone to just beneath your ear. His hips slot between your own and a strong hands hook around the backs of your thighs, pressing your knees to your chest. You whimper. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so completely and utterly exposed. 

“On to the main event, yeah?” The twinkle in his eye has your heart racing even faster. His fingers catch the towel that is somehow still wrapped snugly around his waist. With one tug, it’s gone and your mouth is watering in anticipation. 

Your jaw drops lower, if it’s even possible. He’s… huge. Long and pretty with veins that you know are going to rub just right. His tip is pink and leaking, ready. 

“Satoru, it won’t–” 

His lips connect to your pulse, licking and sucking when you feel him prodding at your entrance. “It’ll fit, baby.” 

He slides himself through your folds, gathering your juices and torturing you every time his tip bumps your clit. By the time he’s finally lining himself up, you’re practically begging. 

The first push is heaven. You’re both moaning when he prods past that first tight ring of muscle and you’re gasping, crying out his name and clawing at his back. He keeps pushing, filling you inch by inch until he’s pressed snugly against your cervix. You thank him aloud when he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to his size, to the feeling of being filled to the absolute brim. He only kisses the tears from your cheeks. 

The first thrust has you seeing stars, little white spots clouding your vision. The second has your nails embedding in his skin hard enough to draw blood. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it has him moving faster, grunting in your ear and whimpering your name.

“Sooo… f-ahh-ucking t-tight…” he whispers. 

A hand slides between your sweaty bodies, a thumb rubbing familiar circles against your swollen clit. You cry out, clenching down like a vice. 

“F-Fuck, princess.” 

His thrusts rock your body and the sound of skin slapping skin echoes in the air. You feel that familiar coil begin to form, to heat at your core. Your muscles tighten and your legs begin to shake. 

“Atta girl. Cum on my cock, baby.” 

You whimper at the praise, at the incessant rubbing of your clit, at the relentless pounding of your cervix. It’s all too much, too good. 

“Satoru…” you cry. Your legs burn and ache. Satoru has your knees pressed so tightly to your chest you’re afraid something might snap. It only adds to the tension beginning to unravel at your center. You feel as if you’re burning, as if you’re going to snap– and then you do. Heat unravels beneath your skin and your mouth falls open in a silent cry. Your legs tremble and your toes curl and you vaguely hear your husband whispering a mix of curses and praises in your ear. You’re still lost in the sensation when he starts groaning and you feel him flooding your insides with shallow thrusts close to your cervix, filling you with rope after rope of his hot cum. You’re still panting when you finally regain your mind. Satoru’s still on top of you, completely limp with his head buried in your neck. You curl a hand into his hair, silently holding him close. That was some of the most mind-blowing sex you’ve ever had. You smirk. Yeah, maybe this baby-making business wasn’t going to be so bad. 

You shiver when you feel Satoru licking and sucking at your skin. There’s a tenderness in the action that makes you pull him closer. He hasn’t even pulled out yet, but you can already feel him hardening inside you, ready for another round. 

“Think it stuck?” he asks. You smirk and answer with a breathy laugh. 

“Don’t know.” Silently, you think that there’s no way it didn’t. You can feel his cum dripping down your thighs and there’s just so much of it.

He lifts his head, eyes bright and sparkling even in the dim light. He grins. “Guess we’d better make sure.” 

~

With the rate at which Satoru fucks you it’s no surprise when you get two positive little pink lines a few week later. You tell Satoru by unceremoniously dropping the test in front of him while he’s drinking his morning coffee. He only grins and kisses you before he bends you over the counter, whispering something about needing to show you how appreciative he is when he slides inside you. The next morning you wake to Satoru’s lips on yours, a brand new credit card, and a new car in the driveway, fitted with all of the newest safety features (only the best for his wife and baby, he says). You sigh and smile when you see it. Yeah, this whole baby-making business definitely wasn’t so bad.

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[sceletaflores]

slippery when wet!

pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: “so who fucks better?” he asks bluntly, a bead of sweat dripping down the column of his throat and into the neck of his tank. a shocked laugh bursts from your lips. “what?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “who fucks better?” he repeats slowly, leaning down to meet your eye. “me or art? don’t fucking lie to me and tell me that prissy farmer boy makes you come harder than i do.”

—or: patrick puts you in your place three months later.

word count: 4.3k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, p in v, fighting as foreplay, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), rough sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (m!receiving), fingering...kinda (fem!receiving), very light spanking, choking, degradation, creampie, throat fucking, mean!reader my beloved, art donaldson is there in spirit, patrick is gay for art, porn with a little plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: no one can stop me from writing rough sex patrick fics. it's all i think about 24/7, and you guys are no help but like i love it so it's fine. i'm here to serve you and this is clearly what you want so who am i to deny you that? thank you to the beautiful anon who requested this, i hope you don't mind that i changed it from a locker room scene to a bathroom scene but that was just calling to me hehe. okay bye! hope you love it! xoxo mwah.

psst! tftw series masterlist!

You’ve been on the court for at least an hour and a half, running drills and trying to sweat out all of your stress. You were the only one in the building, but it was always less busy during finals week. Most people were camped out in their dorms cramming for fifty question tests or four part lab practicals. 

Art politely declined your invite, too busy studying for his business final on Monday. So you rented a tennis machine and worked on your backhand that way. It was a nice distraction, emptying your head enough that all the anxiety of finals started to melt away as you slid into a steady rhythm with the machine.

The door bangs open with a loud creak behind you, bursting the little bubble of tranquility surrounding you. The back of your head burns with the unmistakable feeling of someone glaring at you.

You hear him before you see him, a loud call of your name followed by heavy footsteps quickly coming towards you. The sound of his voice immediately grates on your nerves, all angry and shouty. You choose to ignore it, focusing on hitting each new ball the machine spits out.

It may have been a couple months since you’ve seen Patrick, but you’d always recognize the familiar way his voice wraps around each syllable in your name.

Three months, to be exact. It’s been three months since your big fight over the phone with Patrick. You blocked his number right after you hung up, so you haven’t spoken to him in just as long. He never tried to reach out, never messaged you on AOL or Facebook. The petty fuck actually went out of his way to unfriend you on both, so you knew he wasn’t exactly torn up about your abrupt split. 

“Hey! I’m talking to you,” Patrick shouts over the loud humming, sounding closer to you than he was before. You pointedly keep ignoring him, eyes fixed stubbornly on the machine. “You deaf or something?” he mocks, stepping up so you can see him in your peripheral vision. You say nothing, swinging your racket harder with each hit.

Patrick scoffs, stomping over to the machine and slamming his hand over the stop button. It makes a loud beeping sound, before shutting off completely. “Jesus Christ, you’re such a fucking baby.” you groan, throwing your head back in annoyance. When you finally turn to glare at him, you’re shocked at the state he’s in.

Patrick’s dressed in a tank and the almost too short shorts he’d usually wear to a match, and he’s dripping sweat. Curly black hair plastered to his forehead with it, his cheeks red and blotchy like he’d been in the sun. You raise your brow, looking at him with a confused expression on your face. “Where the hell did you even come from? How did you know I was here?” 

He walks back over to you, hands balled into fists by his side. “I was at a tournament in Mountain View,” he explains, jerking his head in the vague direction he came from, ”it was so close I thought it’d be wrong of me to not stop by and check up on you.”

You laugh, nodding your head lightly. “Okay, so you flunked out of another tournament and hunted me down like a creepy stalker to what? Yell at me some more? Call me a cunt again?” you step closer, lightly swishing your racket through the air dismissively. “I’m not fucking interested in whatever it is you have to say Patrick, we’re over.”

He smirks but you can see the way his jaw clenches, ticking in anger. “But you’re interested in what Art has to say?”

There it is. You really should have known it would all come back to this eventually.

You sigh, casting your eyes to the ceiling in exasperation. “What’s your point?”

Patrick takes a step closer. “My point is that you’re not fucking stupid, and Art can’t lie to save his goddamn life. You knew exactly what he was doing.” His tone is accusatory, his brows pinched together hard enough to crease his skin. 

Your heart beat picks up in your chest, anger beginning to bubble up inside you. “I didn’t need Art’s help to realize that you’re an arrogant piece of shit and a gigantic waste of my time, you made it easy enough to pick up on all by yourself.”

Patrick laughs, loud and abrasive. “No, you just didn’t care.” he states darkly, shaking his head back and forth a few times. You can feel a few drops of sweat fling from his hair to land on the bare skin of your shoulders as he does. “You’re so easy that you’d spread your legs from him to stroke your own ego. You’re only playing into his whole kicked puppy charade to justify acting like a fucking whore, ‘Poor Art, he’s so sad and pathetic, I’ll let him fuck my slutty pussy to help his raise his self esteem!’.” He mocks, voice pitched up in an exaggerated impression of you.

Your grip tightens on the handle of your racket, knuckles turning white with it. You feel hot all over, anger simmering under your sweaty skin. “You’re seriously trying to lecture me about egos? This has nothing to do with Art! This is about you being a bratty little rich boy who’s never been told ‘no’ before so you can’t handle rejection. It’s fucking embarrassing.”

Patrick nostrils flare, brows pinching together in anger. “Art has nothing to do with this, really? You’re delusional if you actually think that he’s just this saint among men or some shit. He’s not, he’s a fucking snake.”

“Trust me, Art doesn’t have to be a saint to be better than you.” you sneer, voice sharp and unwavering. Your hands are shaking, blind rage racking through your body like thunder. “The only redeeming quality you’ll ever have is dangling between your legs so you better get used to this, because sooner or later everyone will leave you once they see past all your bullshit and realize that you’re nothing more than a worthless loser.”

Patrick’s jaw works furiously, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. You think something like hurt flashes through his eyes, but only for a second. It's gone just as fast, replaced by a mocking smirk that stretches over his lips slowly. He crosses his arms in front of him, shamelessly raking his eyes over your body. You can practically see the gears turning in his head. 

“So who fucks better?” he asks bluntly, a bead of sweat dripping down the column of his throat and into the neck of his tank.

A shocked laugh bursts from your lips before you can stop it. “What?” you ask, arms dropping to your sides limply. The completely one-eighty of his mood sends your head reeling. 

Patrick takes another step closer, invading your personal space. “Who fucks better?” he repeats slowly, leaning down to meet your eye. “Me or Art? Don’t fucking lie to me and tell me that prissy farmer boy makes you come harder than I do.”

You laugh again, shaking your head in disbelief. “God, everything is always a dick measuring contest with you. It’s so pathetic like, seriously–”

“Answer the question.” Patrick demands, cutting you off sharply. He’s practically looming over you now, so close that you can smell him. That natural, manly, musky scent he always has after a game that drives you fucking crazy. 

It reminds you of when he’d come back to your dorm fresh off a match, still in the same clothes and not showered. Pumped full of adrenaline and so pent up, needing something to take his energy out on. You were always that something. He’d fuck your mouth like he’d fuck your pussy, like it was just another hole for him drain his balls into. You’d be face down in his crotch for what seemed like hours, right where his smell was the strongest. Forced to breathe it in so deeply you’d feel high off it, your brain turned to mush every time.

Heat swirls deep in your stomach, you haven’t been this close to Patrick in what seems like forever. You kind of forgot how much he affects you, especially like this. The sex was always better when you’d fight before.

“You’re a child.”

“You still haven’t answered the question.”

You huff, narrowing your eyes at him. There’s a sort of crazed look on his face, his pupils blown out and dark. It makes you pause, it’s the look you’d get right before he’d pounce on you. You’ve seen it enough times to know that something is different about it. He looks needier, more hungry. 

It has some of your anger subsiding, twisted amusement swiftly taking its place. If Patrick wants to ambush you like this, after weeks of radio silence, you might as well use it as a chance to fuck with him.

You smirk, cocking your head to the side slightly. “Art,” you say slowly, taking a small step towards Patrick, “is a better fuck than you ever were.”

Patrick pouts like an honest to God child, sticking out his bottom lip in indignation. “I told you not to lie–”

“I’m not lying,” you say innocently, voice dropping down to a whisper as you lean in even closer. You can see the freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks, darker than usual thanks to all the sun he’s been getting. “Last night he ate me out for hours, made me squirt all over his fucking tongue.” 

For the first time since you’ve met him, Patrick Zweig is shocked into silence. His eyes darken, you can’t even see the green anymore, the solid black of his pupils swallowing it entirely. “Bullshit,” he says quietly, clipped and skeptical. His breath fans hotly over your lips, it makes your spine start to tingle.

You smile sweetly, giving a small shrug of your shoulders. “I’ll send you the video.”

Patrick physically reels back, blinking slowly with the realization of what you just said. His lips barely part in surprise, pink and enticing. You revel in it, smirking at him smugly. His eyes flit across your face like he’s trying to figure out if you’re lying or not. You stare back at him unrelenting, all the proof you need is sitting in the video gallery of your pink motorola razr. 

Patrick swallows hard, you watch the way his adam’s apple bobs with it. He shifts his lower body subtly, but you’re too close to not notice it. Your eyes immediately dart down, and you’re almost giddy at what you find. 

He’s hard, the fabric of his shorts stretched over the length of his dick obscenely. You can see the faint outline of the tip pressing against the seam, a wet patch seeping through the gray material around it.

“Oh my god, you’re actually getting off on this!” you laugh wickedly, eyes glued to the lewd tent of his dick. “You’re calling me a whore when you’re the one getting wet just thinking about your best friend's mouth on my pussy. That’s fucking pathetic even for you, Ricky.”

Patrick is silent, breathing heavily through his nose as he stares you down so intensely you can almost feel the heavy weight of his eyes as they bore into you. 

It happens in less than a second, Patrick closing the distance between you and taking your arm in his strong hand so he can force you in the direction of the showers. His grip is tight on your bicep, fingers meanly digging into your skin and forcing you to walk with him. You put up a fight, kicking and scratching but he’s stronger than you. Not letting your slaps to his chest or nails sinking into his arm deter him from dragging you across the court. 

“Let me go asshole!” you snap, trying in vain to yank your arm out of his grip while you stumble over your own feet. “You’re such a fucking psycho!” Patrick ignores you, bursting into the men's showers and marching you into the first stall. He drags you inside, whirling you around to shove your back against the door of it roughly. It knocks the wind out of you for a second, the lock digs into your back hard enough to hurt.

“Art doesn’t have any fucking idea how to deal with a bitch like you.” he grates, fisting a handful of your harshly. “He’s too soft. Too busy letting you lead him around by his dick to try putting you in your fucking place.”

The sting of your scalp only adds to the warmth pulsing in your pussy, sticky arousal dripping wet in your panties. You meet his eyes, all the fire and want swirling in them mirror your own. “Art has a bigger dick than you bitch.” You spit, standing on your tiptoes to lessen the distance of him tugging on your hair. It’s a low blow, immature and basic but you don’t care.

Patrick just hum noncommittally, roughly hooking his fingers into your cheeks and dragging you forward until the tip of your nose is touching his. “Then your throat is still nice and stretched out for me.”

He drops his hands to your shoulders, forcing you onto your knees. You hit the ground with a heavy thud, a dull ache blooms in your knees at the force of it. “Fuck,” you hiss, pulling back instinctively but the hard plastic of the shower door pressing onto the back of your head keeps you pinned in place. Your hands fly up to his legs to try and push him away.

Patrick grips your hair tight, tipping your face up to look at him. You have a perfect view of him pushing his shorts down, letting his hard dick slip out as the fabric stretches taught across his thick thighs. “Open your mouth,” he demands, yanking your head to the side meanly.

“Fuck you,” you snarl, teeth bared in anger as you fight to stand up. Patrick’s strong hand on your shoulder keeps you down while the other starts to idly stroke his dick. He’s just as big as you remember, thick and hard only a few inches away from your face.

The tip all red and weepy when he pulls his foreskin back on each tug, a thick vein running up the side that you want to trace with your tongue.

“Don’t be like that, baby,” he coos softly, rubbing his leaking tip across your bottom lip a couple times, smearing his pre-come around your mouth like lip gloss. “We both know you love it.”

He’s so cocky, so sure of himself that you want to keep denying him. But he’s also right, you can feel your resolve slowly start to crack when he pushes the head between your parted lips. The familiar heady taste of him oozing onto your tongue has you sighing contently, jaw relaxing the tiniest bit almost like a reflex.

The second you give Patrick an inch and he’ll take a mile. 

“There we go,” he mutters sweetly, pulling back slightly and then thrusting forward until your nose is buried in the short curls at the base. 

Your whole body tenses, throat constricting over the length of his dick as your fist his shorts in your hands. As quickly as he thrust in, he pulls out, letting you sharply gasp for air before it’s back and pressing insistently on your tongue. You let him in, forcing your throat to relax as he slides forward to press his hips into your face.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he bites out, thrusting down your throat roughly. “Pussy’s so greedy it jumped on the next dick that perked up around it.”

You could only whine around Patrick’s dick, mouth too full to do anything but try and work your tongue over the throbbing length of him.

Your throat burns, spit flowing down your chin messily along with his pre-come still steadily leaking from the hot tip of his dick.

His big hands have an iron grip on either side of your head, his balls slap against your chin as he thrusts over and over and over. The back of your skull throbs, knocking into the stall with each pump of his hips.

“Fuck,” he groans, dropping his forehead down to the stall with a small thunk. “You look so good like this,” he breathes, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes, “so fucking pretty with my dick down your throat to shut you up.”

Your pussy aches, so empty that you want to shove your hand down your shorts and stuff yourself full of your own fingers to dull the need. Your thighs glide together slickly, the wetness of your arousal soaking through your clothes.

It gets harder to breathe. Your choked off, spluttering gags start loudly echoing off the tile walls. Your hand slaps Patrick’s thigh a few times, he thrusts hard once more before he finally pulls back, smearing spit all over your tongue and out of your mouth.

“God, that was good baby.” he praises, slapping his dick against your right cheek lewdly. “As much as I want to pump this load down your throat,” he says casually, stroking his spit slick dick lazily, ”I want it in your pussy more.”

“I fucking hate you,” you growl weakly, voice absolutley wrecked. The tears sitting in your waterline blur your vision, you blink them away to see Patrick’s smug smile beaming down at you. 

“Then tell me to stop,” he shrugs, tilting his head to the side condescendingly. You glare up at him, but you don’t say anything. He snorts, brow raising in amusement. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

He shoves his shorts the rest of the way down, stepping out of them and hauling you up to your feet. You’re still desperately trying to catch your breath, chest heaving as you cough and gasp.

Patrick rips your shirt over your head, flinging it over the stall along with his own. He turns you by your shoulder, pushing you against the wall as he yanks the shower handle to start the stream.

Water rains down around you, shockingly cold for a few seconds before it finally starts to warm up. Patrick makes quick work of your shorts and panties, yanking them down your legs and off your feet, tossing them in the corner of the stall with a wet thwack.

He kicks your feet further apart, one hand on your shoulder and the other lining his hard dick up with your tight hole, letting the leaking tip press into you with the smallest amount of pressure.

“I know you missed my dick, slut,” he says, bringing his hand down on your ass quickly, kneading the stinging skin roughly. “Art could be the best fuck in the world, he still can’t give it to you like I can.” He pops the head in, groaning quietly before he bullies his thick dick the rest of the way into you.

Your hole shakes around him. Patick is right. Patrick is always right, but you’d never tell him that. You wanted this. You missed this. The burn of Patrick’s dick forcing you open, stretching you so wide your toes curl. Him not giving you even a second to react before he’s pulling back and pounding into you brutally.

You cry out, eyes screwing shut at the sharp sting. You can tell through the haze of you brain that this won’t take long at all, the both of you already so worked up from Patrick fucking your throat. His right hand drops from your shoulder to your hip while his left slides up your torso, sliding along your skin to wrap around the column of your throat firmly. You keen loudly, throwing your head back to give him more room.

“I taught him how to use that fucking dick,” he goads into your ear, grip tightening on your throat. “Did he tell you about that? Huh?” He takes your earlobe between your teeth, biting hard enough to make you squeal into the wall.

The tile digs into your cheek, roughly scraping against your skin every time Patrick fucks back into you. 

You’re hovering over the edge, pussy throbbing with the burning need to come. Your clit pulses, swollen and sensitive but you can’t find the strength to drop your down hand between your thighs.

They’re too busy scrambling for any kind of purchase on the slippery wall of the shower, manicured nails scratching against the tile uselessly.

You gasp for air, fighting to speak up under the intense pressure of his hand, “I could tell,” you choke out, barely audible, “you both fuck like you have something to prove.”

“You think?” he sneers, thrusting harder, your ass stinging each time he slams his hips into you. “Maybe that’s because we do. Maybe that’s because we both like seeing you fucking fall apart like this, seeing you beg for it after you finally stop being a little pissy bitch.” 

Your breath hitches as his other hand drops from your hip, delving between your thighs to slide the calloused pads of his fingertips over your swollen clit.

You moan, thighs clenching together as he rubs fast circles over you. “You like that, don’t you? Being used like a fucking toy.” His hand squeezes just a bit tighter. “Say it. Tell me you love being our little slut.”

The words spill out of your mouth before you can stop them, a mix of desperation and raw honesty, “I love it,” you cry out as loud as you can, “I love being your slut.”

“God, you sound just like him,” Patrick chuckles into your ear, low and sinister. His hold on your throat tightens, cutting off your air entirely. You sputter, hand coming up to clutch his wrist like a vice. Your pulse thunders, hard enough that he can probably feel it against his palm. “Who do you think made him come harder?”

The image alone of Patrick and Art like that sends you flying to the edge. “Ah— Patrick! ” you moan, voice hoarse and strained, “Pat, I’m gonna— fuck—“

“Do it,” he goads, sliding his hand from your clit down to where your pussy is spread open on him. He pushes his thick index finger right up next to his pulsing dick, hooking it inside or you and stretching you that much wider. “Come on my fucking dick like the greedy whore you are.”

You let out a sharp cry as your forehead hits the wall, thighs shaking violently as Patrick’s hips become relentless. Your whole body tensing up as you come so hard your vision blacks out.

You think you’re screaming, but it’s hard to hear anything over the white noise buzzing in your ears. Patrick’s hips don’t stop, fucking your abused pussy into overstimulation as he chases his own orgasm.

His hand drops from your throat to dig into your hip to put more power behind his thrusts. You’re immediately gasping for air, taking in greedy lungfuls of it.

Patrick’s chest is plastered to your back, face buried in your neck as he rambles out more nonsensical obscenities. His dick pulses and twitches in your pussy, so close to filling you up.

An idea pierces through the fog of your brain, an idea so fucking filthy it has your pussy clenching weakly.

You think back to the first night Art fucked you, how he almost came all over Patrick’s pants just because they were his, just because you said his name. How worked up and hard Patrick got when you started talking about Art. 

“When he fucked me for the first time, I was wearing your sweats, the green ones,” your voice is scratchy and quiet, barely audible over the shower’s spray, “he noticed.”

“Fuck– fuck you,” he grates out, hips faltering ever so slightly. “God, gonna come,” his hold on your hip tightens, strong enough that it’ll be sure to bruise.

You keep talking, spurred on by his reaction. “He almost came right there, he wasn’t even inside me yet, just rubbed his dick all over them like he could fucking feel you.”

Patrick gives one final slam of his hips, burying himself as deep as he can in your pussy. His low groans and curses fill the room as he unloads into you, pumping you so full of his come that you can feel each hot splash of it painting the walls of your pussy. 

He slumps down against you, hips twitching as he works through the aftershocks. You can feel his breath puff over the shell of your ear. 

You and Patrick say nothing for a long few minutes, running water the only thing to keep the room from being completely silent. Patrick is still pressed to your back, his chest heaves against your shoulders. You think you’d collapse if his hands weren’t still on your hips, practically holding you up.

You’re the one to break the silence, voice low and wrecked, “Art lasts so much longer than that…”

Patrick snorts against your back. “Fuck you.” he says, biting your shoulder hard and pulling his dick out of you in one swift move. You gasp sharply as his come floods from your puffy, wrecked hole. Thick streams of it dripping down your thighs until the water washes it away to swirl down the drain. 

You turn on unsteady legs, hair plastered to your face with water. Patrick is right there, knees knocking against yours as he shifts the two of you closer to the spray. He looks like a marble statue, water dripping down the tip of his nose and between the hard planes of his abs.

He grins smugly down at you, “I’m staying at a hotel close to campus, unblock my number and I’ll send you my room number,” he wagers, hands sliding up and down the wet skin of your back. “I think you, Art, and I have something we need to work out.”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding your head with a small grin. “I think we do”

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[copperbadge]

Recently I ran across an article about an art center that was doing creative expression classes for people with disabilities. Not that unusual, I've encountered that and trauma-oriented art therapy before, but it was the first time I'd come across the idea since getting diagnosed with ADHD. While the class was aimed more at high-needs disabilities, it occurred to me that I could -- if I wanted -- make non-prose art about being disabled.

Outside of my work in scene design I've never been much of a visual artist because I've never felt I had the combination of "something to say" and "a meaningful way to say it", but I started to question how meaningful and complex I really had to be to just make some statements about having ADHD. I can do it in prose, after all.

So I started thinking about how you would talk, in visual language, about things like time blindness, shame stemming from undiagnosed disability, the shift in behavior that medication can induce. Ways to express my condition to people who don't experience it. I still didn't really know how to build the pieces but whenever I went to an art museum I'd think about how I might do a gallery installation. The centerpiece of my mental gallery was a pair of barcodes, one marked "Neurotypical" and one marked "Neurodivergent".

[ID: An interior view of a small booklet, with pages marked 1 and 2, showing barcodes -- on the left, labeled Neurotypical, and on the right, in slightly weirder configuration, labeled Neurodivergent.]

And then I thought, why not make a zine? Nothing you're thinking of couldn't be put in zine form instead of on a gallery wall.

[ID: The booklet continues to pages 3 and 4; on page 3 is a postage-style label reading AUTISM with up arrows on either side, and on page 4 is a QR code labeled ADHD. The QR code technically should work but it just dumps a block of text I wrote about having ADHD into a browser.]

I grew up with zine culture in the 90s and I always wanted to make one but much like with visual art, I never felt like I had the right kind of thing to say; either I had too much to say or too little, and anyway I wasn't confident that what I wanted to do wouldn't just come off as trite and obvious. But you can make a six-page zine out of a single sheet of paper, so I did: I made Helpful Labels For Strange Brains by idab zines, a division of Extribulum Press. (i--dab is a term for a cuneiform tablet that contains a royal communication.)

[ID: The last two pages feature the same image -- a cereal bowl with a spoon in it, the spoon containing a single Adderall pill. One image, however, is captioned "Wake up. Pour yourself a cup of iced coffee. Fix a bowl of cereal. It's going to be a good day." while the other is covered in a detailed ADHD-style step-by-step process for the same actions, culminating in "It's going to be a day like that."]

I'm pretty pleased with how it came out -- the art all looks intentional and it still has that "taped this together after school" aesthetic I remember fondly from the 90s. And the confines of six pages, each only a few inches square, offers a good structure to keep things clear, simple, and meaningful.

[ID: The cover of the zine, labeled "Helpful Labels For Strange Brains" in a kind of esoteric stampy font.]

Especially nice is that if you wanted to you could just hand out the flat sheet, and let folks fold it into a booklet or not -- there's instructions for folding it on the back of the zine. Additionally I have some sticker backed printer paper so I could print it such that you could literally turn the labels into real labels.

Anyway if you want it, here ya go. You can print it on a single sheet of paper and follow the instructions on the back to fold it. I thought about selling it but I do not have the spoons to do a bunch of printing and folding and shipping.

[ckret2]

It's fic time. The Axolotl tries to persuade Bill to face what happened to his dimension while Bill tries to avoid that literally any way possible.

This is part 8 of a 9 part plot about the Axolotl meeting this friendly harmless innocent little triangle in the wake of the Euclidean Massacre and gradually learning he's literally the worst person ever. If you want to read and/or look at the pretty art on the other parts, here's one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.

(WARNING in this one for nonspecific but pretty obvious suicidal ideation)

####

The triangle whirled around as a milky white void closed in around him. "Whoa whoa hey! What is this? How'd I get here?"

"Welcome to my office. You're in a time and space outside time and space," the Axolotl said. "Take a seat. I have a very comfortable bean bag chair."

The triangle did not take a seat. He pointed at the Axolotl like an angry arrow. "What did you do! If you don't put me back now—"

"Don't worry. When we leave this space, you will be where and when you were. Think of this like a dream."

Furiously, the triangle burst into a ball of bright blue flame. It reeked of burning hydrogen—the stench of the fabric of reality itself burning away to nothing. But he, himself, didn't burn. What was fueling his flames? "Yeah?! Well, dreams are my business!" A wave of blue flames surged toward the Axolotl.

And dissipated without touching him. The Axolotl's eyes glowed white. "THIS IS MY DREAM, TRIANGLE—NOT YOURS!"

The triangle shrank down. He squeaked, "Got it." He quietly perched one edge on the Axolotl's bean bag chair. He didn't look at the Axolotl. He was staring up around them at the Axolotl's tank.

The Axolotl's eyes dimmed again to black voids. He settled back, trying to look unthreatening now that the triangle wasn't fighting him. "Do you see something?"

The triangle laughed uneasily. "Not aside from a whole lot of white."

"You keep looking up," the Axolotl said.

"Up?" the triangle said, confused; then apparently figured out what the Axolotl meant and snapped his gaze down to meet his again. "I never—haven't been able to see the stars before," he said, trying not to sound self-conscious even as he slowly tinted red again. "I've never seen anything that could block them. Except you."

Except him. The guy who passed the wall every day on his way to work; the eclipse that blocked out the sun once a year. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize." The walls of the tank seemingly dissolved, letting the triangle see the scene beyond: the glittery cotton candy celestial clouds of his home.

"Hey, I wasn't complaining! You're the one who asked." But the triangle had already visibly relaxed. He still wasn't looking at the Axolotl; but now, he was staring around at the unfamiliar new constellations with wonder.

It was the most unguarded the Axolotl had ever seen him. They didn't have much spare time; but the Axolotl couldn't bring himself to interrupt this brief peace.

After a moment, the triangle gestured toward the sky and said, "So, you—call that direction 'up.'"

"Yes?" the Axolotl said. "Is that strange?"

"No! Nooo no no. Just seems like it might be confusing, trying to tell apart north-up from star-up."

How odd. "We don't usually call north 'up'."

"Oh," the triangle said, voice small and sheepish.

"Some planetbound mortals do. But usually only when they're—" Oh. "... looking at maps." The world printed on a paper 2D plane. Like the plane the triangle had come from.

For all his power, his charisma, his bravado—the triangle was still just a lost little refugee from a flat little world. He held a whole universe in his hand, and he didn't even know up from down. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to him.

"Listen to me," the Axolotl said. "You're in a lot of trouble. I'm sure you know that."

The triangle scoffed. "Tell me something new."

"How much of our discussion did you hear?"

"Just something about rebuilding the higher dimensions' foundations. Which is exactly what I told you to do! You mind your business, I'll mind mine!"

He suspected the triangle had heard more than that. "It's not that simple. They can't rebuild the foundation until the fires are out. So, as long as your actions keep setting new ones..."

"A-ha. So that's why you're here," the triangle said. "They sent you to intimidate me into letting 'em condemn my dimension."

"No." It was true enough that they had sent the Axolotl to try to talk the triangle down. And yes, he would if he could—he certainly didn't want to see all of reality destroyed—but he wasn't primarily here to help the other gods. "I'm here to help you."

The Axolotl had watched how this triangle puppeted corpses and terrified the barely-living into dancing along to his tune. He had seen the dying and dead melted together into oversized composite corpses at the triangle's party; and he'd seen how the triangle's unhappy victims tumbled down into his hell. He'd seen how blue flames flared around the triangle in his anger, and how his lines of fire warped, melted, and consumed whole universes, and how he burned mortals down to the soul with his mere gaze. He'd felt how all of Dimension Zero moved when the triangle moved.

This triangle, this poor child, was a monster.

The Axolotl wore many faces. He'd been a psychopomp, a god of death. He'd changed roles so he could help the dead he escorted reach better futures—now he was a god of rebirth, a god of second chances, a god of justice.

And in his capacity as a god of justice, he'd proudly defended the villains that no one else would defend. He did not believe in punishment. It was too late to save the villains' victims, and no amount of punishment would ever change that; but it was not too late to save the villains.

He was god of death, god of rebirth, god of second chances, god of justice—and also a god of monsters. And he'd decided this monster was under his protection.

Dubiously, the triangle said, "So they sent you as my legal counsel."

Oh, for— "No. I'm just trying to give you advice."

"Even better—pro bono legal counsel!" 

"You're not my client," the Axolotl said. "But I'll advise you as a friend. I can tell you your options as I see them. We can discuss them if you'd like. You may ask me one question, and no more."

"What? Why—" The triangle caught himself and struggled to rephrase. "That's a—stupid rule—that I want an explanation for!"

"Because I'm the Axolotl."

"What does that have t— I don't know what that has to do with anything!"

"I'm the only one who gets to ax a lotl questions."

The triangle stared at him. He burst out laughing. "I think I hate you!"

The Axolotl gave him a wide, gummy grin.

"St—stop that! It makes you even more ugly, ugh. I thought you were here to give me advice, not bad jokes." The triangle made a show of leaning back as though getting comfortable, although it was clear he was uneasy touching the bean bag chair. "So advise me, pink stuff."

"I preferred 'frills.'" Gently, the Axolotl said, "I think it's in your best interests to give yourself up to the divine authorities."

The triangle laughed in disbelief. "You're kidding. Hey, I heard your pals talking about how they can't fight me without knocking the multiverse down—"

"And once they've put up a fireproof foundation you can't burn your way through, there will no longer be any risk to the multiverse if they come after you."

"Sounds to me like a good reason to make sure they don't get that foundation in place!"

"For you to do enough damage to ensure they can't construct a foundation, you'd probably knock the multiverse down yourself," the Axolotl said. "And if that's the case, they'll have nothing to lose by trying to stop you anyway, and everything to lose by not trying."

The belligerence leeched out of the triangle's face by the word. "Oh. Yeah. I guess that's... yeah," he said.  "Okay." His expression was faraway for a moment, as he tried to wrap his mind around the magnitude of the situation. "Okay. That's okay, it's fine, it's fine." Could he feel the walls closing in on him? Did he see the stars being blocked out? "I've... got a way out of this."

"What?"

He didn't meet the Axolotl's gaze. He pulled off his hat to worry at it in his hands. "I have a way."

Bluffing. Or wishful thinking. "No. This is trouble you can't get out of. There's no greater crime against reality than the destruction of an entire dimension," the Axolotl said. "Right now, the gods think you're an active, divine threat to all of existence. That's what this is about. They're not after you because you broke a couple of rules—they're afraid of you." (The triangle lit up at that. Not quite the reaction the Axolotl had been going for, but at least he had his attention.) "And that means they won't stop until they're sure you're no longer a threat. As long as they're pursuing you, your best case scenario is getting buried alive beneath the multiverse's foundation where they can forget about you until your dream realm unravels."

"So what g—I don't see what good giving myself up would do! My best move is putting off the inevitable as long as possible! Just let 'em try to bury me!"

"But it's not inevitable," the Axolotl said. "They fear you as a divine threat. If you prove you're neither divine nor a threat—"

"No."

"Mortals can't be charged the same way as gods can. If we convince the court that you didn't have your current powers at the time of the inferno—"

"I don't know why you're so convinced I didn't have powers at the time!"

"I'm not. That doesn't mean I can't convince a judge," the Axolotl said, which surprised the triangle enough that he actually shut up for a moment. "If you're charged as a god, you face eternal imprisonment or oblivion. If you're charged as a mortal, you'll be sentenced to a regular afterlife. If you give up your power—I'm not sure where yours come from, but there are ways it can be done—" (the triangle was already raising a finger to protest) "—and it can be temporary! But if you don't have divine power when you're taken in, it will be that much easier to convince the judge that you didn't have any when your wall burned. On top of that, if you surrender yourself willingly and admit that destroying Dimension 2 Delta was an accident, that alone can knock off half your charges."

"Next you'll ask me to give up my eye! No!" He was clenching his fist around his hat so tightly that it shook; but that was the only sign of anxiety he betrayed. His gaze was as intense as the stare of a sun. "I told you: me, my power, and my people are a package deal. We stay together. We're staying right here. I don't care how much it inconveniences you."

"It's not about how much it inconveniences us," the Axolotl said. "I'm here for you—you and your people."

"They don't need you or any of your stupid 'gods.' I can take care of them!"

"Then take care of them," the Axolotl said. "You understand that, no matter how this ends, your dream realm will be destroyed and you'll have to leave or perish—don't you?"

"No." That stubborn little glitter fleck. "I can patch up this dump and repair the wall by myself. Once the wall's back, you don't have to worry about your stupid multiverse destabilizing, right?! I'll stabilize my realm before you get your stupid impenetrable foundation in place! Maybe I'll put a roof on top of it that you can't get through!"

"You haven't done it yet! What do you think you can do that you haven't already done?"

"You don't need to know," the triangle snarled.

He had to be mad, bluffing, or in denial. But he didn't look it—eye narrowed in determination, flames smoldering around his edges, fist clenched around his hat—

And then it clicked.

He hadn't said he would replace his wall. He said he'd repair it. 

The Time Giant had said there was no way the little speck of matter that the triangle kept in his hat could be all the matter from his universe; no mortal could handle it without its gravity crushing them, nor would they have the energy to move it.

But she'd also said that gravity was turned off in Dimension Zero. And the triangle had proven he did have the power to move an entire universe—so why should a universe the size of a grain of sand be any more difficult?

And anyway—what did restrictions like that mean in a place where dreams and reality overlap?

"The Time Giant was wrong, wasn't she," the Axolotl said. "You don't have a dark matter problem. You're carrying around the rubble of your universe. All of it. All the matter she sensed but couldn't find."

The triangle gave him a resentful look; but then sighed in defeat. He loosened his fist, reached into his hat, and plucked up the speck of what remained of his universe. The black pinprick of white light. "You're not as dumb as you look," he said wryly. "Yep. The whole thing's right here—all but a city or two. I figured out how to catch it pretty fast."

Catch it? "What... happened to your dimension?"

A faint uneasiness itched at the back of his mind; a sound, right at the edge of his hearing, that he couldn't quite identify but knew shouldn't be here.

"It doesn't matter," the triangle said. "It's about to un-happen."

"You're thinking about setting off a big bang, aren't you?"

The triangle said nothing. He just rolled his universe between his thumb and forefinger contemplatively. 

"You are," the Axolotl said. "You want to replace your universe."

Coolly, the triangle said, "You're sounding kinda scared, frills."

"I am," the Axolotl admitted. "Of all your options, that's the most dangerous thing you could possibly do."

"Hey, the dangerous choices have turned out pretty well for me so far!"

The Axolotl really didn't think they had. "You know you can't get your old universe back, don't you? It will only make a new universe."

The triangle didn't say anything—but he went still, holding the tiny glowing pearl between his fingers rather than rolling it back and forth.

"It will have similar physical properties—it will be 2D, gravity and light will probably work the same way, all the laws of physics will be what you expect... but it will be a new universe. New stars and worlds will form. New species will evolve. Your people will never return."

The triangle squeezed the pearl in his hand. "You don't know that," he said harshly. "Everything that ever existed is right in here." He shook his fist at the Axolotl. He could see the light shining out between the triangle's fingers. "It has to have some sort of memory! There's gotta be traces of it left in there!"

"It can't remember. It doesn't have a soul to remember with."

"I'm a soul!" The triangle pointed at himself with a hundred arms. "Me! I remember! The whole dimension remembers!"

There was the hiss. The ever-present hiss that the Axolotl heard any time he was inside Dimension Zero, the static in the speakers, the last gasp of a dying big bang, the whisper murmur scream battering against the walls. Fear shivered up his spine. How was it audible from within his tank?

He tried to push down his fear. "You're not the whole dimension."

The triangle laughed. It was a chilling sound.

"Just—consider how much more you'd lose if it doesn't work the way you want it to. What will you do if you can't fix your dimension?"

"I can," he said. "If I can't fix it, no one can."

Why did he think he was more capable than gods who'd maintained the multiverse for trillions of years? "What if you're wrong?"

"I will fix it," the triangle said stubbornly.

"TELL ME WHAT YOU'LL DO IF YOU CAN'T FIX IT!"

The triangle literally shrank back, growing smaller as he sank into the Axolotl's beanbag. "Keep doing what I'm doing now! Partying!" He let out a half hysterical giggle. "I'll party til I die!"

"Set off a big bang in an unstable pseudo-dimension, and you will die! The kind of death no one comes back from!"

"Great!"

They both froze. Neither one of them had expected him to say that.

"Kidding," the triangle croaked. "I just—I just—I'm trying to get under your skin, pinky, that's all. Is it working? Don't answer that, that wasn't my question, that was—rhetorical. I'm assuming that stuff you've got is skin, anyway." The prattle was hollow and meaningless. "The point is, I'm the dream realm's eternal party host, and I'm not stopping this party for anything, no matter what you say, and—and that's it. That's all there is to it!"

He must have witnessed so many horrors, in so little time—his universe incinerating, his people dying, Dimension Zero constantly collapsing even as he attempted to prop it up, the dimensions above him twisting and warping as their people fell into his nightmarish realm...

The Axolotl slowly flew closer to the triangle.

"Oh, come on— don't," the triangle whined. "Whatever little speech you're about to make, don't, I don't wanna hear it—"

Gently, the Axolotl said, "I know you've lost your home."

The word "home" struck a note with the triangle. He didn't flinch, his expression didn't change; but he went still. He looked down at the compacted ruin of what used to be his whole universe.

"But it's not too late for you to find a new home," the Axolotl said. "You can still move on and rebuild. There's a future for you. If you come out, I'll help you navigate the afterlife system. If you're stuck in this dimension, we'll find a way to free you."

The triangle's face darkened.

"You can be reincarnated, or resurrected, or—just set free to be an energy being if you want. You can settle down in a neighboring dimension, join a new people—"

"No. I'm not about to be a couch surfer in someone else's universe." He glowered up at the Axolotl. "Those people will join me. Everyone can either join me, or—or get out of my way! I finally made my kingdom, I'm not giving up my crown now!"

"If you keep your crown, you'll kill your kingdom! You know that if you stay here you'll destroy everything, I know you know it!"

"It's the best option I have! Better than your plan, anyway! Surrender to the cops and let my world fall apart?" He laughed harshly. "No way, Buster! I told my people I'd liberate them from our flat, oppressive little world and take them to a party paradise, and that's exactly what I'm gonna make for them!" He held out his little pearl of a universe again, the paradise-to-be.

Before, he'd said that the dream realm was his paradise. He'd also said that he'd remake his destroyed universe exactly as it had been. How could the "oppressive" world they'd left be their paradise? Nevermind the fact that none of "his people" were from his world. Which of the stories he'd invented was the truth? Which did the triangle think was the truth? Did he even know?

"If all of this is for your people—would you risk them? If trying to build a paradise kills the very people you made it for—"

"They'd never know."

The Axolotl's blood ran cold. It took a moment for him to find his voice. "What?"

"I can keep the party going until the end. They'd never find out what's coming. If the dream realm collapses, it'll be too fast for them to tell what's happening," the triangle said. "In their final moments, they'll still remember me as a hero."

The Axolotl hadn't realized until that moment just how cold the triangle's expression was.

His mind flashed to seeing VENDOR earlier that day, hustling the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force to clean up this mess faster because THEY didn't want the journalists to claim THEY had mishandled the situation during an election season.

Was that all the triangle was?

Another politician more concerned with how his constituents saw him than with what he could do for them?

"But," the Axolotl said weakly, "I've watched how you rescue the mortals from the fires. I've seen how you're struggling to keep this dimension from collapsing on them. I've seen how much you're suffering. You're running yourself ragged to protect them. You want so badly for them to be safe."

The triangle seemed to brighten at the Axolotl's words, as though he was soaking in the high praise. "Well, sure! And they love me for it! Would any god do less for his worshipers? Would you?" His voice took on a bitter tone. "But I don't know of any god who'd stick his corner out for a nonbeliever—and that's what they'll be if I don't deliver on the paradise I promised. I take my party hosting seriously. I'll give them their paradise if it kills me. Or them. Or everyone, if that's what it takes."

He was no hero. He never had been. He didn't care about the countless souls he'd collected, only their worship.

He didn't want his people to be safe; he just wanted to be his people's savior.

If I can't fix it, no one can. The triangle hadn't meant no one else was able to. He'd meant no one else was allowed to. He'd rather die than let someone else fix his mistakes.

And he would. This was a mass suicide.

No. Worse than that—it was a mass murder-suicide.

"You already lost your world once," the Axolotl said desperately, "don't you remember what that was like?"

The triangle flinched back like the Axolotl had slapped him. The tank rumbled around them; the hissing whispers grew louder. "That's... none of your business! Stop talking about my world, you don't know the first thing about it—"

"I know how much you must miss it. I know how deeply losing your people must hurt." It must have hurt, why would he have clung to what was left of his world if it didn't, why would he be so determined to rebuild it exactly as it had been?

"My—my people are fine." His voice was choked. He squeezed his eye shut. "They're... all out at the party. Waiting for me. Don't talk about—"

"The people at the party are shapes you kidnapped from other dimensions." He was so stubbornly loyal to his chosen delusions. "Your people are dead. You know they are!"

"No!"

His scream was answered by howls outside the Axolotl's tank. Through the static, the Axolotl could pick up a sound repeated over and over. A word. Murderer, murderer, murderer.

"No! They aren't dead! I saved them!" He curled in on himself, hands pressed to his sides like it could block out the sounds. "I liberated them from their shallow lives! I gave them their freedom—"

"Then give them their freedom now!"

The triangle's breath hitched.

"If you want to die, you can die. There are ways to break a soul. I can help. But do it alone," the Axolotl pled. "I know you care about these people!" He had to believe it, he had to believe it, he had to. In spite of the evidence to the contrary, he had to. "If you won't let us help you, at least let us help them go home. Please. You need to let them go."

He clenched his tiny hands into fists; he looked so pained the Axolotl thought he might shatter.

In another timeline, a better timeline, he whispered, "How?" The word he should have said echoed around them, blending into the static whispers. It would be so easy to say.

But in this timeline, he asked, "You're some kind of lawyer or something, right?"

The Axolotl paused uneasily. "By... way of metaphor," he said. "We have trials and courts, but not the way mortals understand—"

"There are no laws in my kingdom," the king growled. "Get out of here. Now."

"But—"

"I said OUT!"

A force crashed into the time and space between time and space, shattering the Axolotl's tank, the glittery cotton candy nebulas' pinks and blues disrupted by a twisted geyser of colors—raw frothing stuff somewhere between matter and energy—and it flung the Axolotl away from the triangle like a wave flinging a fish from the ocean. The anxious background static whispers grew to a buzzing roar, 1000 decibel white noise. He spun dizzily through the cosmic miasma.

The first time he'd come in here—the first time the triangle had chased him out—he'd felt instinctively that he'd been in danger. He'd felt flames licking at his heels.

He knew now that that had been a mere warning.

"I might be in your dream, but your dream is in MY dream realm!" The triangle seemed to get larger without his size changing. Maybe it was the universe around him that was contracting. "And you've overstayed your welcome, Axolotl!"

The Axolotl had tumbled into the nightmarish eternal dance party. Shrieking overlapping music drowned out the buzzing whispers. Thousands of eyes stared at him in horror and thousands of voices gasped in disgust; and he realized that as many times as he'd seen them, he had never been in their two-dimensional field of view.

For all the thousands that stared at him, millions of corpses never stopped dancing.

One last time, the Axolotl turned to the triangle and pled, "Just give the hostages the option to leave if they want!"

"My people aren't hostages!"

"Then give them a choice!" He could feel dead hands grabbing at his skin and fins. He wasn't sure if they were trying to restrain him for their Magister Mentium, or cling to him for escape. He wasn't even sure whether they were the dead who still had their own souls, or the triangle's corpse puppets. "Anyone who wants to stay with you can!"

"Shut up!" The triangle boomed louder and louder and he grew larger and larger, until his voice and his eye seemed to fill the universe. He was shuddering with rage (with regret?)—it threatened to shake him apart, and the universe with him. "All of this is your fault! I'm—sick because of you!" In another reality he said insane; but the realities where he didn't closed up around the word and crushed it into silence. "You made me like this! You infected me!"

"With what?" He'd only spoken to the triangle once before today. He hadn't even entered his dimension.

"This—idea!" He didn't say what idea, not in this reality; but the words echoed in from another reality where he did. He screamed to drown the echoes out. "I was fine until I met you and you ruined everything!" Regret spilled out of his eye so thick it was almost palpable, energy like a river. It threatened to fill the interdimensional in-between space and drown them all. The Axolotl could taste the idea that had poisoned the triangle: the idea that everyone mattered. That everyone was worthy of a god's attention. And now, everyone was gone.

Bewildered, the Axolotl said, "You're not 'sick' to think that. It's the sanest idea you could have—"

"Get out!" The shriek echoed through infinity. "Get out! The dream realm is my domain and I am its king! I told you last time, I won't let you threaten my people!"

"I would never—"

"GET OUT!" Blue flames exploded out of the triangle; some of his nearest prisoners were incinerated as easily as tissue paper.

The Axolotl tried to shield himself; the flames consumed one of his forelegs and ate away at his dorsal fin.

He tore himself free of the desperate grasping shapes and swam from the triangle as fast as he could.

The triangle chased him; and, to the Axolotl's despair, as the center of Dimension Zero followed the triangle, the edge of reality pulled ever further away.

His flames licked at the Axolotl's tail, consuming the fin; he swam slower and slower.

As the triangle pursued the Axolotl, his attacks further destabilized the volatile dimension; wormholes formed where the fabric of reality folded and bunched in on itself and was pierced through. Light shot through the holes like a million disembodied sunbeams. 

He saw one that led straight to the edge of Dimension Zero. He wriggled through.

"Where did you—?! HEY!" The dimension whirled dizzyingly as the triangle refocused on his evasive prey. "You think you can get away from me in my own realm?" 

"Do you want me to get out or not?!"

"I want you DEAD!"

The Axolotl shouldn't have asked.

With a roar, the triangle clawed at him. A thick, sucking wave of gravity as dense as a black hole tore through the unstable miasma toward him. The triangle laughed sadistically.

With one last surge of energy, he paddled his tail hard enough to outpace the triangle and burst free of the dimension.

The ragged edges of Dimension Zero ripped further under the triangle's attack, but it dissipated in the third dimension.

The Axolotl sighed in relief—then flinched when the triangle crashed into the invisible barrier holding the cosmic foam in the space-between-space where Dimension Zero should have been. Like a piece of glitter sticking to a bubble, if glitter sticking to a bubble were the most violent force in the universe. "Get back here! I'll skin your freakish hide and make a tent outta it—!" He strained toward the Axolotl, threatening to drag the bubble along with him, like a particularly determined sled dog trying to pull a trailer home.

The Axolotl hastily backed out of range as nauseating plumes of color stretched outside their bounds again. Blue fire danced over the thin membrane between dimensions like a burning oil spill on an ocean. The plumes twisted into shapes almost like arms, hundreds of them, reaching toward him—

And froze. The triangle was staring past the Axolotl.

The Axolotl turned to look.

It was the most sublimely awful sight he'd ever seen. An impenetrable wall made up of gods, angels, sentient forces of nature—there were things here so transcendentally powerful that the Axolotl couldn't even see them; he only knew they were present by the perimeters of the space he couldn't bring his eyes to gaze upon and the terrifying awe he felt when he tried.

They were all armed.

All their weapons were pointed at the triangle.

Apparently, the ATTF had called in reinforcements.

A god that looked like a hologram projection, the light of its projector shining down on it from a higher dimension like a halo, thundered, "ADVANCE ANY FURTHER INTO REALITY, AND WE WILL BE FORCED TO SUBDUE YOU."

"You can't afford to!" the triangle crowed. "You'll knock your own universes down!"

"NOT ANYMORE."

The triangle's eye widened. The thousand arms of raw reality seized the jagged edges of the dimensions bordering the hole left when Dimension 2 Delta burned down, trying to crush them—and nothing happened. He slammed Dimension Zero against the bordering dimension, trying to crack open a larger opening, and then trying to simply shove the bordering dimensions aside—and nothing happened. Dimension Zero burned; but the surrounding first and second dimensions remained still. There was no creak and crack of snapping lines and shattering planes as the triangle tried to squeeze his bloated universe free. There was no glowing line of fire on the distant horizon.

The neighboring dimensions burned and blackened under the thousand hands; but they didn't dissolve to ash. The cinders got caught between the layers together as the dimensions splintered into layers, then multiplied—splintered and multiplied—splintered and multiplied—thicker and denser and harder—

Parallel universes. Every time the triangle touched them, they split into more timelines, reinforcing themselves. The Time Giant already reformatted the universes most closely adjacent to Dimension Zero. Not every universe—but just enough to form a cage.

The triangle gave up with a grunt of pain. He laughed in disbelief—and then anger. "You were the distraction?"

"No! I was supposed to talk you into cooperating with building the fireproof foundation! We agreed to only call in reinforcements if I couldn't persuade you!" He looked around for the Time Giant, but couldn't find her—nor any of the other gods he'd spoken to while dealing with this mess. Everyone, apparently, had been cleared out of the vicinity to make way for the god militia.

The only civilian left on the 3D side of the missing wall was the Axolotl—once again, stuck in the middle of a situation he had no business being involved in.

The triangle's eye widened further, further, white hot with fury. "Nothing's ever your fault, is it, frills?! Every time you ruin my life, it's all a big misunderstanding! You just keep talking your way out of trouble!" His eye opened wider and wider still. His eyelid unhinged. His mandibles split open and at the back of his eye socket was an infinitely dark esophagus. Sprouting in a ring around the triangle's eye like the petals of a grisly flower, piercing the membrane between the zeroth dimension and the third, were millions and millions of—

—teeth. Teeth longer than the spaces between stars and sharp enough to split an atom.

The Axolotl only barely managed to paddle back out of their range before they snapped at where he had been. A couple of the higher gods caught him, holding his sides protectively. His skin sizzled with holy electricity.

The god militia drew back from the gnashing fangs, then readied their own weapons: spears, guns, swords, a wider array of divine and holy weaponry than the Axolotl had ever seen. The projection leading the militia called, "DON'T LET HIM MAKE IT PAST THE FIREPROOF BARRIER."

"Afraid I'll start breaking things again?" The fangs snapped tauntingly. "Hey—how fast do you think I can find the load-bearing dimensions?"

The Axolotl shook off the gods and swam back toward Dimension Zero. "Stop!"

"HOLD FIRE!" The projected god commanded, "OUT OF THE WAY, AXOLOTL. THE MULTIVERSE'S SAFETY IS WORTH MORE THAN YOUR LIFE."

He knew it was. The leader of the militia was so powerful that resisting a direct order made the Axolotl dizzy—but he did resist. He shouted at the triangle, "You can't fight off every god in the multiverse! This is suicide!" He realized too late that that probably wasn't as discouraging as he'd intended it to be.

"So what?! There's no way for me to win! Get executed for god crimes or get erased when the dimension collapses—"

"Those aren't your only choices!" The Axolotl could see the fangs slowly, slowly curling up in his peripheral vision, and pretended he didn't. "It's not too late for you to stand down—!"

"I can't!" A wave of fire blazed up the teeth of the Dream Realm. He held up a fist, and it was far too small for any of the gods, so mighty and large, to see what he held; but the Axolotl knew. "If I don't get a happy ending, why shouldn't I burn the rest of you down with me?! At least I'll accomplish one thing before I go!" His hand began glowing as energy began gathering around the tiny seed of a big bang.

"Do you want your worshipers to remember you as a monster in their last moments?!"

"Better a monster than a LOSER!" His laugh was a strained subsonic roar. "Are fame and infamy really that different?! At least they'll be thinking about me at the end!"

"It would make you a terrible party host!"

The Axolotl didn't know what had possessed him to say that. Apparently the triangle didn't know what to make of it either, because he froze, giving the Axolotl a wide-eyed blank stare.

But it worked. He snapped out of his rage. The light gathering around the remains of Dimension 2 Delta went dark. For a moment, he was frozen, giving the Axolotl a wide-eyed blank stare; and then he laughed again, just as strained, much weaker. The borders of Dimension Zero shuddered with his laughter. "Fair enough!" The appendages stretching out into the third dimension lost definition. "Fair enough." He glowered tiredly at the god militia—but raised his hands in surrender. Both his palms were empty.

The trembling fangs dissolved as they retracted. The whole paradoxical mass sagged sluggishly back into the crawlspace underneath reality.

One by one, the god militia slowly lowered their weapons.

The Axolotl's heart was still hammering in his chest; and only then did it register that he'd nearly been eaten by an entire dimension.

Where had his power come from? How had the triangle done all this—made his whole dimension vanish without a trace, shoved an entire plane inside a point, gained complete control over it all...

He really did have complete control over the entire universe that had formed inside Dimension Zero—didn't he?

And to control an entire universe, he needed to have an entire universe's worth of energy.

Dimension 2 Delta had been an entire universe. And now—all of its energy was in Dimension Zero.

With the triangle.

As he watched the triangle wincing in pain as the Dream Realm sank back into place, as though the triangle could feel the way the edges of the neighboring dimensions dug into the frothing chaos, the Axolotl whispered, "Oh, no. What have you done?"

His power had come from his own universe. He had devoured it. He'd made it part of him.

All that energy wasn't stored inside the triangle's body—but the Axolotl had been wrong to think that the triangle was the body in the first place. The triangle was only the face: the eye, the mouth, the mind. The part of the Dream Realm that could speak.

The Dream Realm was the anglerfish—and the triangle was its pretty golden glowing lure. They were all one monster.

The triangle was slumped in defeat, but still he shot the Axolotl a tired glare. The hissing static whispers rose up around him again, spilling out of the Dream Realm. (The whispers, too, were a part of the triangle.) "Who are you to judge," he muttered. "You weren't there."

No, he wasn't. He'd gotten here too late.

Behind the Axolotl, the god projection said curtly, "APPREHEND THE TRIANGLE WHILE HE'S COMPLIANT."

The Axolotl whirled around, eyes glowing with rage. "YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!" The gods who had started moving toward Dimension Zero froze again.

"HE'S A THREAT TO THE MULTIVERSE!"

"He stood down!" 

"HE'S PROVEN WILLING TO DESTROY REALITY. HE COULD EASILY CHOOSE TO AGAIN." The higher dimensional projector turned to project straight at the Axolotl, dazzling him even through his shut eyes, shining straight into his brain. "STAND. ASIDE."

"No." The Axolotl tensed his muscles against the compulsion to obey. "He was a threat to the multiverse. Once the last walls are closed over the crawlspace, he won't be anymore. If he doesn't make a move between now and then, you have no grounds to pursue him." It was a little easier the second time to resist the higher god's command. "So if you do follow him out of the third dimension to capture him, you're trespassing in a new god's sovereign territory to make an illegal arrest outside your jurisdiction!"

"HE'S MASSACRED TEN DIMENSIONS AND TRIED TO DESTROY MORE. THERE ISN'T A COURT IN REALITY THAT WOULD CONSIDER PURSUING HIM UNJUSTIFIED."

"I know a few."

"YOU'RE DEFENDING A DIVINE MENACE. WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

He quietly kissed his career prospects goodbye as he watched himself do the stupidest thing he'd ever done. "I'm the Axolotl," said the Axolotl, "and I'm his lawyer!"

####

(Thanks for reading!! If the art lured you in and this is the first chapter you read, this is part 8 of a 9 part fic about the Axolotl in the immediate aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. I'll be posting the last chapter next week, Fridays 5pm CST, so stick around if you wanna watch the Axolotl deal with having gotten his heart broken by this sweet little triangle who actually isn't sweet.

It's ALSO chapter 68 of an ongoing post-canon post-TBOB very-reluctantly-human Bill fic. So if you wanna read more of me writing Bill, check it out. If you're not sold on the idea of a human Bill fic, I've also got a one-shot about normal triangle Bill escaping the Theraprism if you wanna read that.

If this is NOT your first time here and you already knew all of the above: this was The Big One, gang. And now I expect for the next several months I'm gonna get comments from y'all rereading earlier chapters going HOLD ON WAS THIS LINE FORESHADOWING THAT LITERALLY THE ENTIRE NIGHTMARE REALM IS PART OF BILL? And the answer is: yes. yes it was. Looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts!! 💕

also this was THE absolute hardest chapter to write, goddamn.)

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hi, guys! Let's talk about fandom etiquette!

👨‍🏫👨‍🏫👨‍🏫

I know a lot of you are young and perhaps have not been part of fandom spaces since the dawn of time (circa fanfiction.net) so let's talk about some dos and don'ts with fandom, so we can keep this a happy place! Please read this and reblog to get this out to people who genuinely may not know!

📕DON'T: Write reviews of fics on Tumblr, Tiktok, or other social media. Fic writers are creating these things for FREE, and did not ask you to review. This often leads to negative discourse and can even cause fic writers to take down their fics. 📗DO: Leave kudos and ONLY POSITIVE comments. Talk about only positive things on social media. If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all!

Edited to add: YES, EVEN CONSTRUCTIVE CRITISCISM. If the author didn't ask for it, don't give it. Some may appreciate it, but others won't. At the very least, ask permission first.

📕DON'T: Post fic ideas or headcanons on AO3. AO3 is for posting actual fanfiction or fanart and nothing else. (What I mean by this is, I've seen posts on ao3 like "Just posting an idea that someone should write, here it is!" and that's not what ao3 is for). Edited to add: You can also post original works and nonfiction works based on fandom on ao3! 📗DO: Post headcanons and ideas on Tumblr, Tiktok, etc!

Edited to change: Okay, so I feel like there's some arguments over like...what qualifies as metafic versus something that shouldn't be on AO3? So from my understanding (correct me if I'm wrong), people DEFINITELY should not be posting just a title with no work attached, which I have seen a lot lately, nor should they be posting to search for someone else's fic. However, it seems like lists, and similar metafic are okay, as well as original content, and nonfiction.

📕DON'T: Repost entire fanfictions without permission or sell bound fanfiction. Again, this causes writers to take their fics down, and can actually cause issues with fandom because it can cause allegations of copyright infringement. 📗DO: Recommend fics you like to others by talking them up and posting links! Ask permission before you translate!

📕DON'T: Send hate to authors for writing a fic in a way you don't like or not updating enough. Again, authors are doing this for free and sending hate causes serious mental harm to authors because they are people! If you don't like it, don't read it! 📗DO: Send love to authors in forms that they are comfortable with!

📕DON'T: Shame others for their ships/fics/kinks. Fandom is supposed to be a supportive space! Judging people is taking away that safe space! 📗DO: Use the block button! Block or filter out things or people you don't like!

📕DON'T: Use AI to create art or fics. This is detrimental to the creators who work hard to create their work! 📗DO: Try making your own art or fics! Practice makes perfect!

These are just a few of the things that I've seen happening more lately, but keep in mind that if you don't like something, you don't have to interact with it and fanart and fanfiction creators are people who are doing this for free. Please make sure to respect the hard work people put in, or fandom can't exist!

(Feel free to discuss/add things as long as you're being respectful!)

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

Trying II**

HERE IT FINALLY IS! I hope you guys enjoy the conclusion to this AU! If you want more of this pair feel free to request updates on them! Read Part I and related blurb here!

Warnings: dirty talk, P in V (unprotected), breeding kink, free use kink, light gagging, edging and orgasm denial, overstimulation, oral sex (fem receiving), slight pain kink, alcohol consumption, mention of minor fertility issues

WC: 8.2K

Life had taken an extremely eventful turn for both, you and Harry in the last few months. For Harry, the opportunity to expand his business had risen very suddenly. The unit beside the brewery was a boxing gym and they had outgrown the space. Harry worked out there sometimes so he was friends with the owners and when they decided to relocate they asked him if he was interested in buying the space before they put it on the market. After talking about it with you and crunching some numbers he had bought it and now was in the middle of renovating. Obviously, this took a lot of his time and Harry had been really busy with the brewery as of late and it would stay that way for a few more months.

He had big plans for this expansion. He was going to expand his beer selection and also start working on brewing three of his own beers. The brewing portion was the first thing they were getting set up for the inspection and licensing process so that he could start fermenting his own brews on site. You were so proud of him and everything that he was doing but you missed having him around as much as you had previously. His expansion project pushed you to become an adjunct for an art class at the community college to bring some money in and also stay busy, so you truly hadn’t been smothering each other as much as you normally were.

On top of things shifting in your work lives, you had learned that you weren’t ovulating every cycle. You’d always assumed that if you had a period you had ovulated, but apparently that was not at all the case. It took you nearly six months with no success at pregnancy before you went to the doctor and had some tests done. Your hormones were a bit out of whack, thankfully no abnormalities had been found, so you had just been taking some medication to help block estrogen receptors and encourage the release of an egg each cycle. You had been on this treatment for three months now and you were very optimistic about it. More than ever before you felt and recognized the phases of your cycle more markedly, especially when you ovulated or were getting close. Sure, you were a naturally horny person to begin with but this was something else. It was like you had no resolve whatsoever. And despite the decrease in scheduled baby-making time because of your busy schedules, these changes had led to far more spontaneity in your sexual life with Harry. Like now…

“Baby…” Harry laughed breathily as you pulled him into the bathroom of the little bridal cottage of the vineyard you were currently at for a friend’s wedding. “Wh-what if Darci comes back for something and-”

“She’s not. She’s busy fake-crying at the toasts.” You assured him as you reached for his belt buckle. Harry chuckled into your kiss and his laugh morphed into a raspy groan as you slid your hand down the front of his slacks and groped over his semi-erection. You loved the way his cock fattened up so fast for you. As much as having a taste made your mouth water, you needed him inside of you and rearranging your guts more. “Please fuck me, daddy. I’m so fucking horny for you.” You said in a small voice as you peered up at him. Those, pretty eyes holding such an innocent look in them absolutely melted him to his core.  

He smirked at your request, “Need my big cock, baby?”

You nodded in response, “Yes, daddy. So bad.”

“Alright, but we have to be quick, okay? You can come the first chance you get, alright?” You nodded in understanding.

Before you knew it Harry had you bent over the counter, your hands holding your bunched up dress in tight fists with your thong stuffed in your mouth because you could not keep it down while Harry fucked into you impossibly deep from behind. Your legs were trembling so much that Harry was basically holding you up. It was hard for you to come standing up and when Harry realized that you were struggling to come he quickly picked you up and set you down on the empty counter space and plunged back into you.

“Fuck…I’m obsessed with your tight, little pussy, baby.” Harry muttered as he thrust in and out a few times. He then started swiveling his hips a bit more and it was making your head spin. The tip of his cock was rubbing into your g-spot with each gyration of his hips, it was making your eyes roll back as you rubbed at your clit steadily. “Shit, you squeeze so fucking tight! Fuck baby, squeeze m’cock…yeah, come for me. Come on daddy’s big dick.” He encouraged you through your muffled curses. Your body shivered as these tingling feelings radiated all over your body from the deepest part of your core, right where the tip of Harry’s cock was colliding and out towards your extremities. It was causing your orgasm to draw out far longer than you were accustomed to. 

“H-Harry!” You mumbled against the fabric in your mouth as the overstimulation made your legs start to visibly shake. Harry smirked down at you devilishly, his eyes dark with lust and excitement over wrecking you like this. You had the most worn out and tortured look in your eyes, it was going to push you over the edge again. “Fuuuuck!” You groaned in desperation. You couldn’t help but let out a whine, thankfully it was muffled. But he literally saw as your mind went blacn as the sopping, velvety walls of your pussy constricted his throbbing erection. Your eyes rolled back before your body started to tremble as your orgasm started to take you out.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Squirt on my cock…” he encouraged as you literally burst at the seams from the pleasure that was coursing through you. You were just seeing white hot ecstasy behind your closed eye lids. Your skin was covered in goosebumps as he continued fucking into you in long and deep strokes as he sought after his own orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come so deep inside of you. Gonna flood your little cunt with my cum.” He mumbled as he pressed his forehead against yours. He moaned from deep in his throat as his rhythm started to falter until he was blowing his load inside of you. “Fuck, there it is…” he mumbled softly as his orgasm started to course through his body. Harry’s knees were nearly buckling as he came undone. You were clinging to his shoulders, nails biting deliciously into his skin through his silky dress shirt. Your head was rolled back as you just saw spots on the bathroom ceiling. Harry grunted lowly as he gave a few more thrusts before holding himself inside of you. He gently pulled his upper body back and tucked your hair behind your ear with one hand before plucking your thong out of your mouth with the other. “You alright?” He asked softly.

“Course.” You whispered with a smile. “Sorry for…kinda shoving you in here.” You chuckled breathily and he grinned.

“That’s alright. It’s not like I didn’t want to…” he hummed and you giggled before kissing him gently. Your kiss deepened and after a few minutes you were pulling apart when his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He sighed and ensured you were steady before stooping down to grab it. “It’s Ted.” He mumbled.

“Mmm…” you smirked and he chuckled. Ted was one of Harry’s friends who had moved out of state and returned for this wedding. They weren’t close according to Harry but Ted apparently had an entirely different perception of their friendship. You could’ve sworn he had a crush on him, but Harry didn’t think so because he was sure he was straight. Regardless of what Ted was, he was really intent on reconnecting with Harry and he’d agreed to go to the bourbon and cigar bar which would open after the toasts. “They’re probably about to open the bourbon bar.” You reminded him.

“God…I shouldn’t drink any more or we can’t get back to the hotel.”

“I’ll drive. I’ve only had three glasses of wine and don’t want more. With a little dancing later I’ll be good to go.” You assured him.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, honey.” You smiled and he leaned in to kiss you again, “Jus’not too much, ‘kay? I need you to fuck me again when we get back to the room.” You added and he smirked.

“Mmmm, if anything, being a little buzzed for it would make it better.” He said and you rolled your eyes, “You don’t believe me but you’ll see.”

“It’s just you do this thing where you try to find the sweet spot and when you arrive there you don’t hold off long enough before you start up again and next thing you know you’re passed out in my lap for an hour and my arms and chest are itching all over for the next week from being in the sun too long.” You explained. Harry might own a brewery but he was a complete lightweight when it came to alcohol.

“That was one time.” He chuckled.

“Actually, that was just one example. I’ve got five more.” You said with a smug smirk.

“Alright, I’ll be mindful, baby.” He appeased you.

“Thanks.” You hummed as you wiped your smeared lipgloss from around his mouth.

You quickly cleaned up and Harry got back into his trousers before you were rushing back to the reception tent. It had cooled down pleasantly and you were enjoying the short stroll back with Harry, hand in hand. As soon as you were within eye-shot of your assigned table Ted stood and waved you both down as if you’d been gone for ages or lost.

“He’s so fucking eager.” Harry mumbled as you approached the table.

“He missed you.” You said sweetly.

“I’m telling you, we weren’t that close so it’s a little weird.” Harry reiterated.

“It’ll be fine.” You said.

“Where’d you two wander off to?” Ted asked with a chuckle as soon as you two stepped up to the table.

“On a little stroll so we could make out.” Harry said as he squeezed over your hip and you scoffed before playfully rolling your eyes.

“Harry.” You mumbled and he just smirked down at you. 

“That’s understandable.” Ted responded as he smiled at you when you looked over at him. When you realized that he had really just said that you chuckled a bit uncomfortably before averting your eyes and Harry was stunned into silence for a few seconds before you squeezed over his hand on your hip and he glanced down to you.

“Well ummm…have fun at the bourbon thing.” You said and he offered you a soft smile.

“Sure you don’t want to come?” He asked you.

“That’s alright.” You assured him and tip-toed to hug him. “Just take this man with you.” You whispered to him and Harry chuckled as he kissed your cheek.

“C’mon on Styles, no need for the formal send off! S’not like she’s gonna get snatched away.” Ted said and you were glad you were facing away from him because the face you made would give away your slight annoyance at this comment from Ted.

“Take him. Please.” You implored and he giggled before you two pulled away. As they headed off with Fabian, the other guy at your table, Ted briefly glanced back at you. You saw it from your peripheral vision.

“I think Ted’s got a crush on you.” The woman beside you, Gaia, said.

“Oh god…I thought he had a crush on Harry. I’ve been teasing him about it all evening.” You said and the other ladies giggled.

“It’s because you kinda look like his ex. She was like, the one that got away.” Heidi, the woman across the table explained.

“Oh…” you hummed in understanding. 

“Yeah, so sorry about him. He’s not usually like that, he’s just had a bit much to drink.” She explained. 

You could understand that, so you didn’t want to make too big of a fuss but it had made you a bit uneasy in the moment. When Harry returned almost an hour later he was pink in the cheeks with a dopey smile on his face, and lidded eyes. You couldn’t help but shake your head as he approached. 

“Baby, lets dance.” He said as he extended his hand to you and you immediately stood and shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over your bag on your chair before walking off with him.

Harry pulled you out onto the dance floor and you immediately started to sway to Tony Bennett’s rendition of “The Way You Look Tonight”. You were both singing softly as you swayed together, gazes glued to each others. You often felt lucky to have him as your husband and it was happening right now. You giggled before reaching up to grab his face and kiss him. Your lips met in a deep and loving kiss before parting.

“Love you, honey.” You mumbled and he pecked your lips again.

“Love you too.” He whispered. “So…Ted asked me if we would be open to a threesome.”

“Jesus.” You scoffed and he chuckled.

“So…is that a no?” He asked and you rolled your eyes at his feigned disappointment.

“Shut up…” you muttered and he laughed lowly. 

“I actually almost hit him over it. Had to remind myself he’s piss drunk to stop myself.” He explained. “And well…don’t want to do anything to fuck up Darci and Tim’s big day.”

“Well, I’m proud of you for having that self control.” You smiled. “Besides, Ted’s not even my type.”

“I know. Too straight.” He said and you laughed aloud, disturbing the romantic environment of the dance floor. A few of the couples around you shot you irritated glares and you whispered an apology as Harry shook with laughter.

“Oh, you’re too funny, baby. That was very clever.” you assured him through your soft giggles.

“I know…” he said smugly. “It’s true though.” He said and you giggled.

“Would you ever want to do that? Have a threesome?” You asked quietly.

“My body tells me yes, but my gut says no.” he said, “I just don’t think I could handle it. I don’t want to see anyone else on you. And I would hate for you to see me with someone else like that.” He explained, “I just wouldn’t be able to enjoy myself.” He added.

“Yeah…same.”

“Why did you hesitate, then?” He called you out with a knowing grin and you giggled.

“I mean, I’d feel guilty fucking someone else in front of you. But I wouldn’t mind seeing you fuck someone else.” You explained.

“Oh…didn’t peg you as a cuck.” He chuckled and you scoffed. “Hey, that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re inadequate. It just means that it turns you on to watch me fuck someone else.” He explained.

“Oh…well, wouldn’t that actually make me a voyeur?”

“No, because it’s not watching anyone that turns you on. It’s that watching me fuck turns you on.”

“Oh…then yeah, you’re right.” You conceded and he smirked. “But it doesn’t even necessarily have to be fucking someone else. I mean, it’s just you. You turn me on. A lot.” You giggled, “To the extent that if you ever feel like getting yourself off around the house feel free to do so.” You said with a grin. 

“Noted.” He smirked. 

“You better not fall asleep tonight.” You warned him lowly. You were still very turned on and you needed more from him.

“I won’t.” He assured you and you tutted, “Honey, I won’t.” He insisted and you smiled.

“Okay…” you hummed with some reservation.

Sure enough, Harry passed out on the drive back to your hotel from the venue. It took nearly five minutes to get him lucid enough to get up to the room and washed up before he undressed and plopped into bed. When you finally got into bed after a quick shower, you leaned back into the mountain of pillows and turned on the TV. The noise seemed to make Harry gain some consciousness and he requested that you play with his hair. That’s how you ended up with Harry’s head on a pillow in your lap with your fingers threading through his thick curls as you mindlessly watched some Lucy Show reruns until you passed out.

After you and Harry hadn’t been as sexually active as before it wasn’t odd for you to have spicy dreams when you’d been left sexually frustrated. So when you felt a lovely little flame of pleasure licking away in the depths of your core you just eased into the feeling. You were teetering between being awake and asleep which made it feel all the more real. But when you felt your legs being parted by Harry’s hands you started to stir. And then, Harry was smooching down your stomach, making you a bit impatient as he hovered over your mons and continue nuzzling up against it as his fingers rubbed against the crotch of your shorts. 

“Hurry up.” You mumbled groggily and he chuckled but proceeded to grip the band of your shorts and pulled them down. You helped him a bit by raising your hips and once they were out of the way he delved in eagerly. His tongue felt magnificent on you, it didn’t take long before your pussy was becoming all slick and fluttery with the things his mouth was doing to you. 

Every inch of you was on high alert and feeling each and every wave of pleasure that started to ripple from your core and towards the rest of your body. The closer you got to your climax that more intense it felt until your muscles were growing tense and you reached the peak and then he waited a second too long and your almost orgasm slowly started to fizzle out. You couldn’t help but whine out at the loss, but it was just another second before he was back to your clit and flicking it over and over with his tongue until you were right there again, you were expecting it this time so it didn’t upset you as much, but you were still annoyed. Edging? At this hour? Especially when you had gone to bed so horny for him, it was criminal, but he could use you whenever and however he well pleased, so you decided to not complain about it until you couldn’t handle it any longer.

“Daddy, please…” you whined after your fourth almost orgasm. You were lamenting the loss as the euphoria just faded from your reach…all that potential gone.

“I’m going, honey. I’ve got an aching boner so m’not gonna last too long. I wanted to let you have your fun before I get in there. Still owe you for last night.” He reasoned and you smiled down at him.

“You are forgiven, just make me come.” You huffed.

Harry smiled before pressing himself up and well yeah, his cock was standing straight up, despite it’s size and weight. It was also looking a slightly painful shade of deep pink. Your mouth watered as he stroked his foreskin over his tip and then back down. You nearly whimpered as his lovely, fat tip came back into view. You wanted to suck on it until you were slurping the cum right out of him. You had always been a bit of a cum slut, but now that your hormones were acting more or less how they should, well your craving for his cum was something else entirely. You wanted to taste it, or feel it pooling at your lower tummy, or squirting on your face or breasts. You liked how much he came and how you could feel each twitch of his cock shooting it inside of you when he fucked you from the back. You loved how warm it was and how he did the most to ensure it tasted as good as it could for you. You love the consistency of it and got turned on by seeing it slowly oozing from your stretched out little hole. The thought of him busting inside of you made you so feral so you did not care if it was fast or not, you just wanted to feel him inside of you.

“How do you want me?” He asked you.

“Do it from behind.” You requested and you both grinned at each other before you flipped over.

Harry stuffed a pillow beneath your hips before guiding his hot and stiff cock between your slimy and warm folds a few times to let your arousal coat his cock. You were desperate to feel his girth stretching your entrance. And when he finally pushed the tip in you braced yourself for him to plunge the rest of the way in but he stopped. You could feel his fingers digging hard into your hips. You were just about to tell him to stop teasing but then your felt his cock start to twitch hard as a breathy and slightly distressed “fuck” slipped past his mouth.

“D-did you just come?” You asked in shock through a giggle and Harry groaned.

“Yep.” He admitted with a huff, “M’sorry hon, it just felt so good inside of you. Was edging myself for a while before I woke you.” He explained.

“Oh…well now you have to keep going ‘cause I haven’t come.” You said as you glanced back at him.

“I know.” He assured you, “Just…just gimme a minute here, it’s so sensitive!” He yelped and groaned before smacking your ass playfully. You had squeezed your walls nice and hard around his sensitive cock and it completely caught him off guard. You laughed a bit as you relaxed your muscles completely and he sighed in relief. “So fucking mean.” He grumbled. “Fuck you.” He chuckled lowly and you giggled again.

“I had to. S’pay back for last night.” You reminded him.

“This is me paying you back for last night.” He reminded.

“Really? Blowing your load the second you put it in?” You teased and he chuckled.

“Touché.” He replied and you grinned. 

“S’alright, very amusing though. Just go slow.” You said softly and he hummed and pushed his length in a bit further into you before drawing out. You could feel him shivering a bit as he tried to keep himself composed but you loved that. “Give me more, daddy. Want to feel your big cock all the way inside. Love it when I’m stuffed with you.” You uttered seductively and he groaned as he fought against the sensitivity he was feeling in order to sink back inside your pussy. 

You felt nothing but relief when Harry started setting a steady pace, still a bit slow for how horny you were so you started to push back to meet his thrusts. Then you wedged your hand between your body and the pillow and with your own movements started humping your clit against the heel of your palm to get some friction to the throbbing little bundle. Harry felt your hips moving beneath him and held still to allow you to take over and go at your pace. Your  heart started to pound faster and your moans to climb in pitch with each prod of Harry’s fat, leaking tip to your g-spot.

“Oh fuck, you’re so good, daddy. Your cock is so good.” You slurred, starting to get drunk on the pleasure you felt simmering in your blood. He had pushed past the point of the sensitivity now and just needed to come again. He needed you to go faster, he was going to lose his damn mind. 

“Faster, honey. Go a little faster for me.” He encouraged you and you started to shift back a bit faster. 

Harry’s hands smoothed up the sides of your thighs and over your butt. He squeezed and groped a bit before gripping around your waist and then leaning forward to grab your jiggling breast in his right hand. You moaned as he started to tug and gently pinch your nipple. In moments your breath started to shallow as you started to approach your climax. That lovely pulsating feeling that was running through started to increase in intensity. Your body started to grow hotter and your limbs to tense. You moaned and let your upper body just fall into the pillows before you as you started to give in to the feelings. Harry watched the way your spine curved so beautifully as you kept your ass up for him. He watched your free hand clench the covers tightly while you played with your clit with your other hand. Harry groaned and reached into your hair, grabbing a fistful and gripping it tight to keep you in that position. He mustered up whatever strength he had left and pulled your ass tighter against his front as he plunged deep into your dripping cunt with the most brutal and unforgiving thrust. Your brain blanked for a moment and gasped as he you felt him collide with what to you felt like a totally new spot.

“Fuck me hard, daddy…Make me ache!” You supplicated and Harry moaned at the whiny tone of your voice and the light slur you spoke with. 

With your body bent the way it was it was already a little hard to breathe, but he had effectively knocked more air out of you with that first thrust. He released your hair and gripped your hips hard as he continued his merciless domination of you as you rubbed your clit in quick but precise little swipes. Side to side, side to side. So fast that the tingle in your core started to travel down your legs until your toes were curling for a second as your body tensed up. Then you felt it traveling up, making your tummy and chest tighten impossibly. When the feeling finally made it to your head you completely lost yourself.

“I’m coming!” You gasped before you buried your face into the bed to muffle your lewd and uncontainable moans. 

Your were feeling relief and ecstasy as your body rode this perfect wave of euphoria. It was so easy to overdo it and you had. Your legs had started to tremble but you couldn’t stop rubbing, it felt too good. Even more so with Harry giving you his cock as hard as he was. It hurt so good that you were drooling. You were going to come again. And surely enough, just moments later you shrieked in shock as Harry held you down on his cock while he started to come with a deep grunt. You were a goner in that moment, completely fucked out. The feeling of him being that deep all while you rubbed your clit past the point of comfort was making you dizzy as you came on his dick. He could feel your pussy throbbing hard around his girth, it was dragging out his orgasm. He needed more of you. He wiggled in a little deeper until he brushed again your cervix, you tensed up and then he pulled back before he did it again and again as you held so perfectly still but remained so tense at the overwhelming feeling. He then shifted a bit and laid over you and you gasped as this made him drive in as deep as was possible. 

“T-too deep!” You winced and he smirked and dropped more of his weight over you causing you to whine lowly and tighten your fist around the covers again.

“You said t’make it ache. So that’s what I’m doing, baby.” He said lowly, lips swiping your shoulder before he planted a gentle smooch to your warm skin. He then dropped the rest of his weight over you and your eyes squeezed shut as your brain went blank in response. “You’re gonna feel me for days, baby. Thoroughly fucked. Cute little cunt all wrecked.” He mumbled and you nodded. “Pussy bred.” He added. You could hear the smirk in his voice and smiled as well.

“Thank you, daddy.” You mumbled, drunk on him and his cock and the cocktail of pleasant neurotransmitters firing around in your brain. 

“You’re welcome, baby.” He hummed in satisfaction. 

And as you laid there in the postcoital bliss you were glad that you’d be staying an extra day before flying back down to LA. You’d rented yourself a vintage luxury car for the weekend and were just treating this as a romantic getaway since you’d both been so busy lately. When you looked at the clock you saw that it was barely 7:30am, you had your first wine tasting reservation in a couple hours and then an early dinner planned before settling in the for the night since you’d be flying out the following morning. You had agreed to get really into this wine tasting afternoon when you’d booked it so you two had dressed up in a vintage, old-money aesthetic. Plus, driving the sleek, light blue, topless, 1963 Mercedes 300 SL roadster through the seemingly endless sea of vegetation really fed the aesthetic you were going for. 

“God, I love California so fucking much. Never gonna leave.” Harry had said to you as he drove you two to your next destination. 

Your had so much fun at your activities with Harry without a care in the world for anything else that was going on. It was just you two again talking, making memories, and sharing things you hadn’t gotten the chance to talk about yet. The way he ogled you and touched you and flirted with you was reminiscent of when he was first trying to get you to fall in love with him. All all throughout dinner he’d been asking about you and how you were doing now that you were working again and you had just finished telling him that you felt that it was going well and that you really liked all of your students.

“I’m glad your class is going well, baby. Just…don’t fuck a student.” He cautioned, “Bad idea.” He added lowly and your eyebrows furrowed.

“Okay…I’m gonna need to press for more information regarding this sudden, unsolicited advice?” You probed with a smile.

“I just…have experience in this area.”

“What?! Since when have you taught?” You asked him in surprise.

“Not me.” He scoffed, “Well, yes me, but I was the student.” He said. Your jaw dropped, you were genuinely gobsmacked for a few seconds. Learning that little Mr. Goodie-Two-Shoes here had fucked a teacher was not on your bingo card.

“I need you to tell me all of it.” You said with an excited grin when your brain finally proceeded the information. Harry chuckled but got to sharing the anecdote.

Apparently, during the summer before Harry’s second year at university he turned into the statuesque, god-like being he is now. All baby fat gone, bone structure and musculature carved immaculately by god herself. And in turn he got very confident very fast, he had said cocky, but you couldn’t picture Harry being unironically cocky. He then shared that he had been single for nearly a year after his first relationship and really just wanted to fuck so he got on an app and started seeking someone out. He was in a college town, it was a small community, so he lied and said he was not a student at the local university. And well, she lied about not being a professor at said university and they met up and hit it off quickly so they hooked up. 

They were a consistent hook up, maybe once a month, two or three if they were particularly needy, but they had agreed it was just sex for a few reasons. First and foremost their age difference, she didn’t intend to be dating a teenager. He was 19 and she was 35. But as time went on she started to like him more. Suddenly she didn’t mind that he was 19, in fact, she found it more refreshing because he listened to her, respected her, and apparently men in their 30’s and 40’s could hardly keep it up for twenty minutes. They were a good match sexually and after five months of getting to know each other and hooking up she told him she was in love with him. Obviously, Harry let her down gently but she took it very hard. A few weeks of radio silence later she tried to start things up again, despite her knowing Harry had no deeper feelings for her. He rejected her multiple times because he didn’t want to lead her on but it was getting hard to because he really was attracted to her. So he was glad that school was starting up again and he’d be more busy and he’d have more excuses to avoid her. 

That was all going to plan until the Thursday evening of the first week of school. Harry shared that he hadn’t been paying too much attention when he’d walked into the lecture hall because he was walking in right at starting time. He quickly found a seat in the aisle seat of the second row since everything else was quite full. He still had one AirPod in as he waited for the last minute of his podcast episode to end as he started to settle in and unpack his things. Simultaneously, she had started going down the class roster so he hadn’t clearly made out her voice either, he had the time anyway since his surname started with S. Harry recalled that he had just glanced up to the front of the class at the sound of his name and when their eyes met she just froze for a moment before glancing down at the sheet in her hand again. She apparently barely got through his name from the mere shock and mortification of it all. Apparently after that class ended she resigned, so he had no idea what had come of her.

“Jesus…you’re a whole ass career ruiner!” You exclaimed and he nodded.

“Yeah. See, bad idea.” He reiterated.

“Welp, there’s not any cute students in my class anyway. Well…maybe they are cute, but just cute, you know? They look so small and juvenile, s’not really my type anymore. I quite like how manly you are.” You said and he chuckled.

“You mean mature.” He said and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, that too I guess. But regardless, you do it for me just fine.” You assured him and he smirked.

“That’s what I like to hear.” He hummed before kissing the top of your hand. “Look, I know that we’ve been a little distant lately.” He started, “But I will make more time for us.”

“Well, we’ve both been busy and-” 

“It’s not that.” He said and your brows creased as you nodded, urging him to finish, “I know that we’re trying to start a family, but when we’ve had sex I feel like I’ve just been using you.” He expressed and you pouted, “Like yesterday, it’s been all fast and spontaneous, like whenever the opportunity arises. And I know you gave me the permission to do that but because I’ve been so busy it just feels…different.” He explained, “It’s hot, I mean it always is with us, but I want to be more intentional about it. Specially when we’re also doing it to make a family together.” He said and you smiled. “So I will try to be more present and to make more effort for us.” He promised.

“Thank you, baby. But believe me, I understand that what you’re doing with this expansion is also for our future.” You assured him and he smiled and nodded. “Like, I know it’s also for your self-fulfillment and with your own beers it’ll be something you’re doing for fun too, but that’s alright with me. Seeing you happy professionally is also important to me.” 

“Thank you for being so supportive and understanding, my love. As always.” He smiled and you squeezed his hand in yours.

In the end, this is what you loved about your relationship with Harry and also why your marriage worked. You were both so considerate of each other, so thoughtful. You had no idea when you would finally get pregnant, but you were just so excited for it because Harry would be the most incredible dad. He showed you every single day how much love lived inside of him, you were certain it would be boundless with your baby whenever they came.

…. A COUPLE MONTHS LATER ….

Harry had kept his word and did prioritize making more time for the two of you. You’d decided to do a sort of book-club thing together. You both read the same book and would have a date every Thursday night to talk about it and how your week had been going. You usually helped out at the brewery on the weekends, but had started to do more of that in the last few weeks since Harry was starting to work the flavor profiles for his beers and was quite consumed with that a lot of the time. Like this particular weekend, Harry was out visiting a few brewing labs around so-cal with Jeremy and you had stayed behind to run the brewery. 

On Monday though, he would have the opportunity to make a small sample batch of possible types of beers and flavors he wanted at one of the labs. You were bummed about missing this part of Harry’s process but you had an appointment to check your hormone treatment that you could not miss. Any imbalance in hormones could tip you back into not ovulating as you were supposed to and you didn’t want to risk that which he fully understood, so you both agreed that you were okay with missing these things for each other. 

Your appointment was early so that you could get back home and hop on zoom for a few hours to hold some virtual office hours and grade a bit. You were just waiting for Dr. Zelaya to come in and when she finally did with a big smile you immediately perked up.

“Y/N, guess whaaaat?” She sang as she came in and closed the door behind her.

“It worked?” You asked with an excited smile and she nodded.

“Oh, it worked! You’re pregnant!” She shared with an excited smile and your jaw dropped.

“I am?” You asked in disbelief.

“You are, lovely. ” She confirmed and your eyes immediately welled up. 

“Oh my god!” You finally exclaimed and cried tears of joy. Dr. Zelaya chuckled as she grabbed the tissue box and handed it to you “That’s such excellent news!” You sniffled through your chuckles of excitement.

“Yes. Congratulations! Now, if you don’t have more time today we can set another appointment for an ultrasound and see how far along things are. But if you can push things off I had a cancellation for 11:30 and can squeeze you in?” She offered.

“Oh yeah, I’ll come back! Besides, I skipped breakfast because I woke up late.” You confessed.

“Happens to the best of us.” She assured you. “So I’ll let the nurse know you’ll be back in a little while. And may I recommend you try the Marmalade Cafe, it’s on Ventura, right after Kester. They have a delicious chorizo Benedict, there’s a vegan chorizo option too if you’re of my persuasion.”

“Ooh, I’m not vegan but you guys do seem to have some the best foods.” You said and she giggled.

“Yeah, things have gotten really impressive on that front.” She nodded as she finished typing a few things on the computer. “Alright, I’ll see you back in about 2 hours for your first ultrasound. Will your husband join?”

“He’s actually out of town on a business trip. But I want to have pictures for him for when he gets back tonight.” You explain.

“Oh, he’ll love that. What a nice surprise for him to come home to.”

“Exactly.” You added with a smile. You chatted a bit more before you headed off. 

It was genuinely so hard for you not to call Harry right away and tell him the good news, you were bursting at the seams. You also wondered how everything at the flavor trials was going, you were genuinely disappointed that you were missing such an important milestone in this process for him. He really wanted you to be a part of this because despite being married to him, you weren’t necessarily a beer girly. So he had said that he’d want your input on the three beers he wanted to have so that he could get a novice’s critiques on the beers. He also really valued your input as his life partner and you often helped him ask the difficult questions and things of that sort. Not that he wasn’t able to stick up for himself, but he never wanted to come off as insecure or maybe even difficult to work with, but you were so diplomatic about everything that he loved when you’d bring up the difficult or challenging things before he did. Regardless, you wanted to make up for not wanting to reschedule this appointment and this would definitely be the best thing to share with him to make it up. 

Before you knew it you were back at the doctor’s office and watching the monitor with tearful eyes again as the doctor pointed out the embryo to you.

“I’d say you’re about six, almost seven weeks along.” She shared with you and you nodded, “Have your periods been more or less regular?”

“Yeah, they vary a bit with the medication but honestly I have just been so busy that I lost track of my cycle this time around.” You explained.

“Okay, just making sure.” She said, “Everything is looking as it should. I know you’ve been taking such good care of yourself, so keep that up, s’good for the future baby.” She said and you nodded with a smile. 

Once you had your photos printed you headed off to get a dessert to share with Harry and a little picture frame for your sonogram picture. You were sure he’d want to keep his copy with him so you’d just break the news to him with your copy. You were just getting in when you saw Harry, freshly showered and making himself a sandwich in the kitchen as you came in from the garage. 

“Baby, hi!” He greeted you cheerfully.

“Hi!” You greeted with a bright and surprised smile, “What are you doing here?” You asked happily as you put everything down and hurried over to hug and kiss him quickly.

“We got to the tasting and I just couldn’t do it without you there. It just didn’t feel right to start the process without you. I rescheduled for two weeks from now and we can make a little weekend out of it? We went to this incredible sushi restaurant that I know you will die for.” He said and you giggled.

“Speaking of beer and sushi…” you said through a small chuckle, “I have some good news for you.” You teased and he smiled wide.

“Your treatment is going better than expected?” He asked and your brows raised.

“More than…” you said with a smile, “I’m pregnant!” You shouted with a huge smile and Harry’s features softened.

“Honey…” he said tenderly as he came up to you, “Yeah?” He asked for confirmation as he grabbed your face gently and you nodded. Your eyes started to well up when you saw the tears forming in his own eyes.

“Yeah. You’re gonna be a dad, H.” You confirmed and he dipped down to kiss you deeply before pulling back to hug you and hold you close.

“Oh, you just made my whole fucking year. My whole fucking life…” he hummed “I’m so happy I don’t even know what to say.” He chuckled as he swayed your bodies a bit and you laughed.

“I mean, same! I was so surprised when the doctor told me. It was very unexpected.” You explained through a happy giggle as you rubbed over his back, “I bought a slice of chocolate cake and framed a picture of the sonogram for you to see. Had a whole thing planned since I thought you were getting in later.” You disclosed and he let you go to allow you to grab the image of the sonogram. When you handed it over to him his tears definitely started to fall. 

  “I don’t even know what the fuck I’m looking at but I just know they’re already perfect.” He said through his sniffles and you laughed and then brought your hand up to the image.

“It’s right…shit, was it this thing or this one?” You questioned as you pointed between two different areas on the sonogram.

“Baby…” he huffed.

“I’m kidding! It’s this little smudge. I’m almost seven weeks along.” You shared as he set it down and then picked you up and spun you around happily as it finally hit him. You shrieked as your sandals were flung off by him spinning you.

“We did it!” He chanted a few times as you spun before he set you down on the counter. “Oh baby, you’re going to be phenomenal. Everyone at the brewery is going to be so happy when they see your bump coming in!” He said as he squeezed your thighs in excitement, “And well, I mean, I don’t care what we’re having, I just want to buy stuff and look at baby names immediately!” 

“We can do all that.” You giggled as he started to get a bit hyper over this but he was just so fucking pleased with the news. “We’re gonna be good at this.” You said softly and he nodded.

“Undoubtedly so.” He hummed as you ran your thumb over his cheek bone. “You’re really pregnant.” He chuckled again in slight disbelief. “I’m over the moon. I feel like I have super powers, like I could fly.” He chuckled.

“Please do not test that theory.” You joked and he sniggered.

“And here I thought I already loved you as much as I could.” He hummed and you grinned.

“Wait until we meet the baby.” You said and he sighed and smiled.

“It’s going to be so cool.” He hummed and you nodded and then your smile faded a bit.

“Thank you for being patient.”

“Oh, no…” he said, “Like any of that was in your control…”

“Well, if I had just listened to you from the beginning and gone to get checked we would’ve caught this sooner.” You acknowledged and he shook his head.

“None of that…it happened when it was supposed to. If it had happened sooner you’d be in the middle of that while we’re in the middle of this expansion. It would’ve been a lot of stress to deal with. I mean, maybe I would’ve even passed up on the opportunity if you were pregnant when they offered the unit to me.” He said and you sighed, “Besides, it can be scary to go and get these things checked out. There’s always a risk of receiving bad news and that’s anxiety-inducing. I understand, baby. But we finally did it.” He said and you nodded before kissing him deeply.

Harry wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer. Your legs wrapped around his body and you slightly pulled back from his lips.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, my love?” He asked.

“Can we eat the cake now?” You asked with a little grin and he chucked.

“Yeah, we can eat the cake.”

“I just have a simple request.”

“Shoot. Anything for m’girl.” He said with a smile.

“Put it in the microwave for like 20 seconds. Like when it’s all warm and melty.” You said and Harry smirked.

“You know what I like all warm and melty?” He said suggestively and you giggled and kissed him slowly for a moment. 

“Promise me we’ll be like this with each other forever?” You asked and he smiled, “Kids can be great but they can also change things with us.” You pointed out.

“You’re right.” He agreed, “But I want you to know that to me, you’re the top priority. Always.” He shared and your gaze softened, “Everything I do, I do with you in mind.” He shared, “I exist because you do.” He said and your heart melted in your chest as he said this, “And as long as you’re alive I will choose you every day. I’ll always be in love with you.” He assured you and as your glossy eyes met his you saw his sincerity and believed him. You grabbed his jaw and pulled him in for a searing kiss before pulling back, “Believe me, we were meant to do this together.” He assured you and in that moment you knew everything was going to be alright.

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[occamstfs]

Sticky Fingers

Junpei finds himself drawn to sneak an early peak at Arcadio Carvajal's new exhibition. When the chance to take a piece home presents itslef, he'll find himself a little more than changed from the experience.

My first sequel! Arcadio from Marichismo decides to take the chance to find a new assistant and lover! In other don't forget to vote on my Viral Transformation poll, ends Sunday! Otherwise enjoy this tale of muscle growth and otherwise masculine changes! -Occam

Junpei can’t believe that he somehow hadn’t heard about this art exhibition until just now. Like many a young thirsty gay across the country he does well to keep a tab on the illustrious (Read: Hot) work of Arcadio Carvajal. Many institutions are a little hesitant to host an artist whose name may well be synonymous with sexual provocateur but, with attendance numbers down across the board, even more museums are thrilled at the chance to host a man who almost magically draws in hordes of adoring patrons.

His latest exhibition on homoeroticism in popular culture is setting attendance records at just about every museum it stops at. Junpei was beyond thrilled when his friend Corey leaked that the gallery he works at was going to be hosting an exhibition of Arcadio’s starting tomorrow! Ignoring any concerns as to how odd it is that he’s not heard anything about the opening until the night before, Junpei grabs his backpack and makes for the gallery immediately, almost as if possessed. Something in his chest flutters with anticipation as he wanders the few blocks down to the hall where he’ll hopefully be able to sneak an early peek of some of the works on display. 

Making the trip down a few blocks with haste he finds  there’s surprisingly little activity at all in or around the gallery. Sure it’s after hours but the night before an opening, let alone an opening by an artist as impressive as Arcadio Carvajal? You’d think there would be some last minute prep work to be done. Skulking up to nonchalantly look through the front door, he puts his weight on it just as a little test. Just to see if it's locked, no overt plans as to what he would do with the information, he just wanted to know. Just wanted to see.

When the door gives, he can’t suppress the grin rising on his lips. In for a penny, he decides. Fighting to keep his expression guiltless he surreptitiously looks around to make sure no one’s watching the entrance before he sneaks into the dark hall. He tries to scheme up an alibi as he digs out his phone to use as a flashlight. Probably wouldn’t buy that he thought they were open. Could just say he was supposed to meet his friend here, though he’d hate for Corey to catch blowback. Junpei then rolls his eyes as he figures he could come up with something on the spot, if he’s even caught that is! Adrenaline keeps his conspiratorial mind from noticing he of course already has been, as the gallery’s cameras follow the young student into the exhibition hall holding Arcadio’s exciting exhibit.

The amateur intruder almost has a heart attack as he steps into the gallery proper and the lights flash on. Stumbling into a wall in shock, he ducks behind a display case and nervously scopes out the new space he finds himself in. After quietly ensuring that no one is actively here, Junpei chalks the lights up to be automatic and hastens his pace. Switching off his now unneeded flashlight, he starts scoping out the litany of artwork dedicated to the male form surrounding him.

His excitement eclipses whatever paltry dregs of anxiety or fear remain as he sees the works of incredibly influential artists gathered here. Junpei knew Arcadio was a titan but he could never have expected the prolific art that fills this place. First things first, as he enters he sees a diptych of the artist himself, under his breath he murmurs, “god he’s so fucking hot.” Somewhere out of sight surveillance footage shines onto a man watching him explore the gallery as he mischievously smirks.

On the student’s left are a wall of nudes and more softcore fare from artists across the ages. Mizers and Mapplethorpes hang floor to ceiling alongside more modern work by Arcadio and his own gay contemporaries. Near the far side there seems to be a whole section dedicated to portraiture of St. Sebastian but Junpei is less eager to explore the thorough history of homoerotic photography. Certainly a medium that has brought him endless pleasure, as it were, but they may as well just be prints to him. No, he wants to see the real stuff.

Wandering past some dozen miniature recreations of Michaelangelo’s David made of shining plasticine latex, some clad in leather, others in the buff as the artist intended, Junpei finds what he snuck in for. Spotlights shine down unto the wall opposite the photography, teeming with works from gay trailblazers of the art world. Namely the ones whose primary focus was on nothing but bulging fetishistic muscle and strong-jawed pretty boys. Those who crafted overt unapologetic pornography and others who snuck homoeroticism covertly to the masses. This is to say there is more work by Tom of Finland and Leyendecker than he could possibly appreciate in this brief time alone. 

He spends as long as he thinks he can just staring at the work. Drinking in the graphite scraped bulges and tight leather uniforms of the massive men drawn by the Finn. Reverberations from his work still echo into the art and lusty imaginations of countless gay men today. Indeed upon gracing dear Junpei’s eyes they immediately cause some mobility issues to arise. He struggles with his pants as he struggles to walk forward with a package that only surges harder with each fervent tug of his pants. His rising issue stops not as he moves on to observe the bright colors and hungry eyes of the men in Leyendecker’s advertisements. Masculine forms idealized and gleaming opposed with the raw heightened sex found in the work nearby. Junpei can barely control the desire coursing through him, but knowing he can’t stay forever the young man continues onward, biting his lip as he tries to will his boner away. 

Going through a curtain into a still darkened room, it takes a second for Junpei’s eyes to adjust before he sees a room dedicated to non-western homoeroticism. Finding aged Chinese scrolls of gay eroticism he snaps pictures, quite thankful that they are less visceral arousing than the work he just left behind, though he’s decidedly happy to see some shred of himself in the gallery. Turning around he gasps as he sees something he wasn’t quite expecting. Next to a wall of more deliberately pornographic bara men he sees panels from his favorite mangaka depicting bulging muscled men in provocative poses. But more thrilling than that, it seems the main sketch isn’t in a display case. It’s just sitting there, loose, free.

Junpei doesn’t know what came over him, he wasn’t even planning on coming in illicitly, but staring at the crisp art in front of him he cannot stop himself as he pulls a folder from his backpack. Before he can even issue a command to his body, the sketch is already in his bag and he’s sprinting away. The smirk of the man watching his every move grows wider as he watches Junpei clumsily flee the scene. Fleeing out the door into the dark streets, Junpei pushes past other students thoughtlessly as he races home, delirium setting in as struggles to understand and realize what he just did. Slamming his apartment door behind him he yoinks out the swiped art. He isn’t sure if it’s the image itself or the exhilaration from his crime but his only recently stilled cock begins to harden once more. 

Mind barely present what can he do but obey his rising erection. Junpei begins to masturbate, staring at his stolen artwork, panting as he quickly comes close; free hand moving thoughtlessly he feels it scrape against something taped to the back of the sketch. Eyebrows furrowing as he continues to beat his meat, Junpei turns the picture around and he instantly stops as his blood grows cold. “Evening Junpei. I know what you did. See you Soon. Yours, Arcadio Carvajal.” Junpei drops the drawing and it flutters to the floor, lying face down, leaving the note facing up at him. His mind escapes from whatever haze compelled him to commit larceny as his thoughts race faster than could possibly be productive. 

What do I do? I need to bring it back now. How did that note get there!? It certainly has my name on it, and it’s signed by Arcadio. Fear seizes him as he backs away from the stolen piece, tripping over the pants that had fallen around his ankles. In his scrambling he falls back and hits his head. Before he completely loses himself to unconsciousness he sees the picture purloined face up once more. Groaning as his vision begins to fade, his eyes latch onto his legs as searing pain slowly burns through him. Cresting into a trancelike state he mumbles incoherently as it almost seems like veins are bulging onto his thighs?

Perhaps unsurprising given the prominence of Arcadio in what lead him into this stupor, but as he’s truly overtaken Junpei sees the massive artist himself. The man’s arms are crossed but the expression on his face is not one of judgment or disdain at Junpei’s actions. Rather, to the best of the young man’s judgment, it looks like one of anticipation. Junpei tries to speak but finds his mouth dry up as the man across from him waves a finger, “Ah ah ah mi ladrónito. I believe you have something of mine.” The eponymous little thief pats himself down trying to dream his plunder into existence but produces naught. Arcadio pouts his lips but there is a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

“Well perrito. For your little transgression I think you owe me, si? Think I could use some more hands on deck to watch out for petty thieves, don’t you?” Arcadio’s expression loses all the performative animosity that remains as he looks at Junpei with glee and his intentions begin to suffuse the young man. Feeling his ability to speak return, Junpei opens his mouth but before he can produce a word he is wracked with burning pain from the artist's stare.

Beginning from his feet, clad in the cheap tennis shoes that he wore to his haphazard heist, heat sears the soles of his feet. At first it’s as if he’s standing on coals before simmering down to the pain of sprinting across a hot beach; finally it shifts to the pleasant warmth of a warm footbath. Pain swiftly gives way to pleasure as Junpei flexes his feet just to ensure he feels every sensation he can, only then does he feel his toes bump against the front of the small shoe, just as the bridge of his foot strains against the tongue. Junpei grunts as he hears stitches begin to give way, toes blasting through the cheap fabric while his soles rear through the sides and spill onto the floor as his feet totally eclipse the remains of his shoe.

Looking down at feet that may as well need clown shoes compared to the petit ones he’s always had, Junpei feels some new instinct in his mind. Almost like an intrusive thought, he feels a need to be brash, to spar with the man he so respects more than anything. Ignoring his usual nature he follows this instinct, it’s just a dream right? Fighting through the pain and pleasure still coursing through him, Junpei speaks up, “Grgh- What are you- Are you giving me a foot fetish or what?” Arcadio’s face lights with a smile as he hears the young man speak up with the slightest amount of acid on his tongue. With no words to betray his emotion at the seed of Junpei’s changing psyche he moves his eyes up to Junpei’s legs.

“Oh what the fu-” he’s unable to even finish the thought as his whole body convulses with the sensation of his legs lengthening before they start to pack on muscle. Shooting almost a foot higher, Junpei falls back on his ass as he clenches at his calves and thighs. His gaze follows Arcadio’s as the man stares at his tight calves, expanding with each pulse of the heart. Just like every other inch of Junpei’s body there’s initially little at all impressive, and then they flex larger, and then there's a bulge that will never leave, and then there is a calf that would inspire jealousy by any lesser men who glimpses it. More than baseballs, muscle bulges enough for even socks large enough for his massive feet would struggle to contain them. This is nothing however compared to the transformation moving upwards into his thighs. 

Veins bulge thick as power seeps upwards, burning warmth sears his hands as they clutch at the hocks of meat that now constitute his thighs. Junpei blushes as he sees new distinct masses bulge out of his once bony thighs. Staring down at his increasingly powerful lower body he is filled with determination to get them even larger. The need for power begins to wash over whatever ideals or needs the young man had before this dream. Seeing the thick veins clearly pump and bulge larger with each beat of his heart, Junpei traces them with his finger and bites his lip as Arcadio can’t help but stare at the growing package that demands attention from the both of them.

Arcadio is more than pleased to stare, each second spent lingering on the cock sends waves of pleasure through Junpei as his mind struggles to parse that his cock and balls are stretching larger by the second. Quickly surging higher and thicker, his dick eclipses the size its been at its most turgid erection before now and it still pushes further with each groping grasp and sweaty breath. Similarly, beneath it his balls hang lower and the few dark hairs that shade his groin grow thicker and curl longer as his heavy balls rapidly increase production of the hormones this increasingly massive body demands. He cannot help but thrust into the air, his thin arms struggling to support the power his thighs summon. Landing back on his ass it too bulges larger with every flexing movement, quickly regaining its position as the largest muscle on the body as it becomes a bubble butt that would entice even the least male-interested eyes.

Moving on, lest Junpei blow his load all over himself, Arcadio's eyes continue upward to begin the most impressive work yet. Junpei groans as he desperately needs a break from the overwhelming pleasure burning in his lower body. He drags his hands across his inner thigh,  feeling callouses scratch his sensitive sweaty skin before palming his cock to a spurt of pre before moving on. His fingers trace towards his torso as veins begin to trail upwards, crossing his abs as they bulge into existence.

His body involuntarily goes into a crunch as every powerful ab cramps, sending stabbing pain and searing pleasure through his mind. Drool flings out of his mouth as he launches forward moaning. Junpei’s rougher hands grab his beefy thighs to prevent himself from falling backwards once again. His eyes almost cross as he seemingly loses control of any unengaged motor function. Across from him Arcadio just smirks and watches as Junpei’s sweat soaked hair changes from the same unintentional look he’s had all his life into something far more deliberate and fashionable. Exactly what he would want in a body man.

Hearing the strained groans and hungrily looking to the ephemeral expression dancing across Junpei’s face, Arcadio hesitates before continuing. Feeling the briefest of pauses from otherworldly bliss, Junpei cries out, his voice rumbling deeper as he finds his neck has thickened, “Mrgh- Don’t stop boss. I want, more.” The artist’s lips twitch as he is more than happy to obey the thief’s desires. After all, it's about time to get to his favorite part. At the same time Junpei’s mind flickers to the massive pecs that he so enjoyed observing at the museum as he begins to feel building pressure, increasing potential, on his chest.

Summoning a laser focus, Arcadio stares at Junpei’s arms and currently non existent pecs. He has trouble ignoring the bulge dawning in his own pants as he sees Junpei’s stick thin arms begin to bulk up. Immediately his arms fly behind him as he rapidly alternates between stretching them and flexing. With each thrust away from his body into the air they lengthen, fingertips shoot longer as his palms widen. With every bulging flex veins are forced to protrude even further through his faultless skin. His biceps may as well be forged of cast iron as they become impossible to ignore, power courses through them as from now on even the smallest movement causes a medley of muscle to dance across his beastly arms.

In between his bulging biceps, above the cobblestone abs, underneath shoulders still widening and taps pushing against a shirt that barely holds on, his pecs finally begin to receive the attention they have always lacked. Junpei’s nipples increase from the dimesize they’ve ever held into half-dollar protrusions that will be impossible to hide under a shirt. Similarly, the measly pecs they stand strong on begin to grow at a rate more prominent than any change so far. 

The sound of Junpei’s shirt giving way to muscle he couldn’t truly fathom before now burgeoning onto his chest overwhelms him more than he could ever know. In the moment of them bursting larger than life, he feels himself let loose of whatever restraining fragments of his past self remain. He wasn’t sure what caused him to take the sketch from the gallery, but Arcadio knew he would. Arcadio Carvajal, his boss, clearly had more planned for him than Junpei ever could imagine. As his pecs bloat beyond reason and he feels his chest pulse with power does he give himself totally over to become the perfect, powerful man that not for a moment in his life he thought he could become. 

His body shines with sweat as he finally loses control, loosing load after load into the white dreamscape around him. He opens his mouth to cry Arcadio’s name but before a sound could release he finds his godly body pressing up against one of the few men he considers an equal. His new burning muscled form grinds against that of Arcadio. Getting his sweat all over his boss, his lover, his best friend, Junpei smirks in between labored breaths and slobbered kisses. Somehow feeling the scratch of Arcadio’s chest through his shirt the new body man can’t help but frot against the artist’s torso.

Shoving his bearded face into Junpei’s neck, which certainly doesn’t help matters, Arcadio moves his scratchy mouth to his lover’s ear and whispers, “Me esperas… See you soon mi amor.” Seeding desire more potent than anything, every bulging muscle clenches and forces itself larger one last time. Every inch of his impossibly large, inhumanly powerful new form sizzles with the capacity for more pleasure than could ever be bestowed upon him before. Junpei will evermore dominate any room he decides to grace. He will do so physically and intangibly with an aura that exudes strength and entices the appetites of all, though perhaps that due to constantly sweating through any clothing or deodorant he throws on within an hour. 

Feeling emptiness fill him as Arcadio disappears from his dream after whispering in his ear, the now massive man has no recourse besides willing himself to wake up. And so he does.

Junpei wakes up on the floor of the apartment he’s been renting with Arcadio in the leadup to their new exhibition, for some reason the back of his head is sore as if he hit it. Though that’s nothing compared to the soreness that absolutely fills every last inch of his body. The giant groans as he wills his titanic upper body to sit up and smirks as he sees the sweat he must have just worked up. Scratching his pits and struggling not to sniff his hand after, his head briefly filled with countless memories of Arcadio chiding his poor hygiene, he hesitates before noticing some expensive paper lying on the ground. 

Tilting his head and grabbing a nearby towel to wipe the sweat almost dripping from his hand, he takes great care to grab whatever this is without getting too much of himself on it. Turning it around he’s floored to see a sketch that’s supposed to be on the museum wall right now, worse than that it’s from an area that Arcadio has left to him! Taking no time at all to question how this possibly ended up here, Junpei puts it in one of Arcadio’s artsafe folders and sprints down the street to the gallery. 

For being the assistant of such a fastidious man, Junpei has a habit of letting things slip through the cracks, but Arcadio never minds. He knows in the end Junpei will always more than make up for it, always aiming to go above and beyond and, somehow, more often than not exceeding what Arcadio even thought was possible. Entering the gallery the behemoth switches into the closest thing to a sneak that he can muster, unfortunately his massive clumsy feet would always betray his presence. His lover smiles as he hears Junpei’s failed covert operation.

Standing in front of the frame that is supposed to hold the piece that Junpei is now overtly returning, he turns with a sly smirk to see the man doing his best impression of a cat burglar. Arcadio rolls his eyes and goes to grab the folder, lest his lover get his streaming sweat onto it and create an awkward situation with the mangaka. After depositing in where it belongs and shutting it into a plastic case that was conspicuously absent earlier Arcadio returns his attention to Junpei who now looks around the gallery in wonder at what they have crafted together.

Arcadio’s grin grows wider with every step towards Junpei, nearing close enough to kiss, he stands tall and the two enjoy each other’s passion for the first time in reality. Though as Junpei’s deific form clearly demonstrates, what is real doesn’t matter all too much at all. Arcadio doesn’t quite understand the whims of the world he exists in and he’s pretty confident given enough time he won’t even remember being the impetus for his lover’s changes. In fact, as he stands in the arms of Junpei, memories already begin filling his mind of their years together that are as real as anything. Looking around he sees a room full of decisions they made together, body man he may be but the two of them are more than equals. Breaking away from the kiss, he sniffs the air and steps back from Junpei.

Arcadio looks at Junpei’s puppy dog eyes and ruffles his short hair, “Now go take a shower, perrito. Opening is in two hours and you stink, mi amor.” Junpei looks down at himself in shock, somehow forgetting the cold sweat covering his clothes and nods fervently before sprinting back out the door. The two lovers remain on each other's minds as they go about preparing for opening day. Ever but a thought away and always eager for the next moment that they will have alone together. 

[soularsss]

Drawing Likeness: with Tem!

okaay since a few people actually showed interest in me sharing a bit of what I've been doing to figure out how to really capture likeness, specifically Temuera Morrison, I figured id do my best to write it out

I am also going to entice you with some of my recent clone art! (oooh some of it is unreleaaasedd)

I am putting the whole thing under the cut because I have a feeling its going to be long:

Read more!!!

a couple disclaimers before we start

-This is not some definite post about how everyone should be drawing clones, nor is it in any way claiming that this is the right way. This is just my musings as I stare at a mans face for way too long and try to replicate it

-I am inexperienced. As kind as you all are to me, drawing real people is relatively new to me, capturing a persons identity through their features is difficult for anybody, and I am no different. I have watched many a video on likeness and had my share of classes, but If im being honest, i rarely put it into practice successfully. So there'll probably be errors in this post or things i will come back to in a few months and wish I had said/done differently

ANYWAYs you guys get my vibe im just here to ramble and today we are rambling about mr copy paste. I am doing this for Law, my clone boy, because I plan on delving further into oc fanart and I want to put effort into representing him correctly!

SO LETS BEGIN

Before even deciding what specific pose of a person I want to draw, I tend to grab a bunch of references and compile them like so

(all of these can be found on my pinterest)

Why so many? Well, we are about to delve into facial features, so when we are dealing with photos we have to take into account that there are an abundance of circumstances that will influence how a persons face will appear, some of these include:

focal length: All of these are taken on different devices, and focal length can play a big part in distorting faces

age will play a part, your face changes a bunch throughout your life!

lighting, while not as major, can muddy the waters and make it difficult to interpret facial planes and features

SO, to make sure we get a proper grasp of what's really going on, I like to make sure we have lots of options to compare and contrast with.

Next up! What I like to do is block out the main facial features with colour on different layers, the features I block out usually are the general face shape, eyebrows, eyes, nose and lips. But what you are looking for is the defining features of a person, so that could include other things! Maybe a scar, or some particularly prominent cheekbones.

I dont have any rhyme or reason when it comes to picking my colours, all that matters is you can see all the shapes clearly.

Now I may be biased, because Ive been staring at these for 4 hours, but notice how it still looks like Tem? :D

Anyways, now we can break these parts down, and you'll see what I mean about compare and contrast:

We'll start with isolating the facial shape, putting all these next to eachother you'll notice they arent exactly the same (partly because of my shoddy work) But the distinguishing features run through each shape! Namely the very soft rectangular shape I sketched out in the bottom right there. Along with his soft, wide jaw structure.

I did the same for the rest of his features!

You'll notice I highlight the prominent shapes and ratios,

When drawing anything, it is important to start from the very base shapes and build up.

When drawing something you want to look like someone, those shapes relative to other shapes is what makes it look like them.

I didnt use the same technique with his eyes and lips, but I wrote out some helpful info for them! More importantly for his eyes.

When drawing eyes, I find the most important part is where exactly I draw the creases, (along with the overall shape of the eye itself) it is important to understand where those will present themselves with hooded eyes.

NOW, with an understanding of his facial features in place, lets take a detour to colours:

before I start, a couple things to note:

-Temuera morrison versus the clone troopers in the animated shows:

While I love the animated shows they don't exactly stay close to their source material. Im going to link here to an excellent post discussing whitewashing specifically in relation to the clones.

Temuera is Māori, of Te Arawa (Ngāti Whakaue) and Tainui (Ngāti Maniapoto, Ngāti Rarua) whakapapa, and also has Scottish and Irish ancestry.

The Māori people are the indigenous Polynesian people of mainland New Zealand (Aotearoa). Māori originated with settlers from East Polynesia. Māori people often vary in skin tone, Skin colour doesn't determine ethnicity. There's often a correlation but it's not a requirement.

But that is a tangent! What we are aiming for is to stay true to Temuera.

Bringing back my reference photos from before, Ive colour picked a buncha values and theyre all over the place. Why doesnt this work?

Similarly to earlier, you have to take into account the photos themselves. Many things like lighting, colour grading (when it comes to filmography) and makeup, can alter how a skin colour presents in photo.

You can attempt to get true to life by swatching from certain places on the face. Here I've tried to pick some photos with good lighting, and I've also tried to avoid overly lit/shaded areas.

Tem has a very warm, tan skin tone, Instead of colour picking I tend to try and replicate it myself, but I do often bring in references to make sure Im staying true to the source!

a brief intermission to talk about colour theory, something I myself struggle with alot. Often, when putting in flat colours without a background, I will forget to make sure the colours i intend to use will work with the skin tone i have picked! (something that is apparent in older works of mine, not just in relation to clones, but in general, the colours I end up with stray largely from their original sources and it is something I am doing my best to keep in mind and improve in! Although I don't think i am nearly experienced enough in the topic to say I have succeeded yet lol.)

anyways back to Tem :))

Now we can put all of that into practice! Things to keep in mind when drawing out a piece next to a reference like this:

the distance between the eyebrows? how far down his face does his nose go? Basically just, in relation to eachother, where do all those shapes we found earlier, sit?

The screenshot above is from before I did it myself, but instead of directly tracing from the reference, a handy trick I use it to complete your sketch first, and then overlay a traced version to see where your inconsistencies are! Alternatively, you could move your sketch over the image, but I didnt do it that way so!! uh!! im sure it works exactly the same!!!!

When it comes to a final illustration, or any sketch that isnt a direct study, of course you can push and pull and stylise! You'll see below that I'm not exactly 1:1 to my reference photo either.

The important thing with stylisation, or at least my own personal understanding of stylisation is that you need to thoroughly understand the thing you are stylizing! "You need to know the rules to break them" and all that. While shapes, lines and rendering can change, when it comes to drawing someone, and making it look like them, you have to make sure to keep their core features true to source. Caricature can capture a persons vibe whilst drastically exaggerating features, but it will only look like them if you KEEP THOSE FEATURES!!!! SHAPES!!! AHHH!!

But that is just my perspective on the discussion of style versus realism, please dont take is as Law, I dont know what Im on about half the time!!

anyways, after fixing your sketch, add local colours!

I rexified him because why tf not! But this is where you can go crazy with that clone personalization!

And then here is a very very barely rendered version (if you guys want me to explain how i RENDER that would need to be a completely different post, and I havent had anyone ask about it yet so who knows! maybe one day) But I digress, hopefully you learnt something new through my ramblings! It has certainly helped me organize my thoughts and I have also found some areas I would like to focus more on in the future to improve my own art!

TLDR: In order to understand an object, be it a face or a building or literally anything, you have to break it down to its simplest forms, understanding LARGER shapes will help you immensely in the long run

If you guys like this sorta content do let me know! I'd be down to do similar things for armor/anything really, I am very anti gatekeep so really anything at all you want to know! Send me an ask :))

also if you see a spelling mistake.. i don’t know how that got there

[bonefall]

Clan Culture Illustrations

So I've been mentioning this in passing, and I think now is a good time to start collecting info from people who are interested!

I'm seeking artists who want to draw stuff for my Clan Culture series.

I often write very large guides for things like tools, ecology, medicine and treatments, etc, which then get held up by the fact that they're big blocks of text without any fun pictures. I usually collaborate with friends and family, but I could put out more quicker if I had some artists on standby.

If you're an artist who would be interested in illustrating, here's the details;

Everything I make on this blog is tailored towards WC fans, but free for anyone to use and reference for their xenofiction worldbuilding projects. You do not have to be intimately familiar with the Warrior Cats books. This offer's open to anyone above 18.

Fans of Better Bones are preferred, because Clan Culture and BB often intersect. I might ask for help with some BB stuff at some point, too. (for example i have a guide on types of StarClan spirits that needs illustration)

To re-iterate, please only inquire if you're 18+

Price range is 20 - 50 USD and turnaround time can be up to 6 months if you just keep me updated. (I am sorry that I can't offer a higher price for these, but this is coming from my own pocket. In return, this is meant to be low pressure)

Half payment upfront, the rest after completion.

I will never "assign" you a surprise mystery topic (unless you ask for that I guess?), I'll either present you with a list of posts that need illustration (yes this means you get to read stuff early), OR float some ideas that play to your strengths and interests. (for example: if I'm approached by Spider-Enjoyer-9000 who's willing to draw a ridiculous number of spiders, I will draft, write, and research a Clanmew Expansion in the style of Deer and Co or Moths and Butterflies.)

Either way, there's usually a lot of creative freedom here unless I need a specific technical drawing, which I will discuss with you and provide references for. (As an example, if we were talking about a post on declawing, I might ask for you to illustrate the muscles within the paw.)

The nature of Clan Culture means you will probably be asked to draw plants, food, objects, and/or scenery

Still interested?

I'm hoping to make a personal "list" of people I can call on, so send me your commissions info or details in a DM, an ask, a reply to this post, or anything else you'd like. Tell me about stuff you like drawing, topics you're interested in, if you can draw backgrounds, etc

Also, please tell include in that message if you're comfortable with illustrating these particular sensitive topics. These are opt-in only;

Medical Gore (Woundcare, stitching, blood, vomit, urine, parasites and bug bites, etc.)

Reproductive Care (Abortion, birth, pyometria, inducing lactation, possible revamp of the HRT guide including simple surgeries, etc)

Hunting and Butchery (Humane killing of prey, skinning, disembowelment, cutting meat, making sausage and blood pudding, etc)

Funerals and Animal Death (Sad kitties, dead battle cats, scavengers and grave desecration, tombs and burial rituals, concealing decay, etc.)

The end art will always stay tasteful, but I might need to give you references in the form of real images or tutorials that might be upsetting if you're sensitive to these topics-- so it's important to me that I consider those four things "opt-in."

I have plenty of other posts that need illustration, it's just a huge plus if you're able to do these too.

(You should also mention any other specific triggers or phobias you have, so I don't unwittingly come at you with something else upsetting)

"I still have questions!"

Putting a big list of answers beneath the cut;

"Would everything have to be colored?"

Nope, as long as there's pictures to break up the text, you can do sketches, black and white, flat colors, only put color in the header, etc. We'll discuss expectations with the post in front of us, and then agree on price.

I have ONE requirement; it's gotta look good on Tumblr darkmode. Because I use Dark Reader.

"Do you have a Discord?"

I do, I just try to be exclusive with who I give it to! When we're discussing details, we'll probably move over there if you'd like. This is a reason why I only want to work with 18+ artists, I'm not always SFW on main.

"Can we do an entry together about (specific topic)?"

Probably yes, so feel free to ask! The worst that will happen is that I say no, or maybe later. For example, I've got a post on Sweetness Tolerance reserved for my partner (they like to draw sweets), so I would say no if you asked.

Just keep in mind that researching, outlining, and writing is unpaid labor I'm doing completely for free. I have posts mostly done that just need art, and topics I've done some research on. Please only ask for special collaborations from scratch if you're serious 🙏

"Does it have to be digital?"

You'd have to have a WILD idea for me to say yes to anything non-digital, but I am a queer of whimsy. If you can whimsify me with an idea, hell yeah.

"Will I be compensated if you need any changes?"

Yes. If I spring anything on you after the details we agree on, I will first ask you, then ask how much that change would cost, and then compensate you for it.

As fair warning though, I am trying to stay within a budget and writing the posts themselves is unpaid work I do (plus occasional helping hands during research stages, I consulted a friend who is an irl wetlands expert for ShadowClan's environment). I can't pay more than what we agree on.

"Can I link my info in the post?"

Yes. "Guest Artist" is going to be named in the opening paragraphs, along with any fundraiser, shop info, carrd, etc, you want there.

"Boosty?"

Yea I got Boosty. Paypal, too.

"I have some other question about pricing"

Feel free to ask, but my hard budget is 20$ - 50$ US. Please only inquire if you're willing to charge within that range.

"What if I'd do it free or I want to do this anonymously?"

I'll donate to a charity of your choice and link to it in the post. If you have no charity preference, I will link to RAINN, Anera, or The Trevor Project.

(Naturally this comes with an anti-ghoul caveat or two. If you try to get me to donate to something like Autism Speaks I will rotate every bone in your body by 45 degrees.)

"I like checklists, can you give me a checklist of info you want in a DM?"

Sure!

Your info; socials, carrd, shop, etc

General interests and strengths. Stuff you'd love to work on, or have insight to. If you like fishing or drawing bugs, I want to know that. If you particularly want to practice flowers, tell me. Be as detailed as you want so I can pair you with a relevant subject!

Your examples

General asking price (or charity)

Which, if any, of the four Opt-In Subjects you're opting in for.

Anything else I should know (triggers, phobias, things you dislike drawing, if schooling or disability means you need a particularly long turnaround time, etc)

[utahlive]

Announcement

Hello UtahLIVE viewers, I have come before you today to talk a bit about recent events and how they will impact the future of this blog. Apologies this note is a bit long, but I would really appreciate it if you took some time to read this.

As I'm sure many of you know, within the past month Wilbur Soot/William Gold has been outed as an abuser. I want to make it clear right now that I no longer support him, nor do I accept his apology (mainly because it's not mine to accept in the first place). I stand with and believe Shelby and Alice 100%. This goes for any other victims that have or will come forward that I am unaware of, since I've been trying my best to stay offline. This aint about me!! But it's still hard when someone you look up to and who inspired you to create art turns out to be a shitbag. If you were somehow unaware of this, please go watch Shelby/Shubble's stream (VOD + transcript) and read Alice's post (and mind the CW/TWs) for more information.

This blog has brought me a lot of grief because of all of this. I do not want to support or perpetuate this man's image, but at the same time, I don't want to discontinue a story that I've put so much time and effort into. After a lot of deliberation, I've decided that I am going to continue this story until the end. I will also be adding a disclaimer in the pinned post, and I will no longer be tagging any of my posts from here on out with #wilbur soot or any adjacent tags. I don't think it's fair to myself or to anyone else who has enjoyed this blog to waste all the hard work that I have put in, because ultimately this is my project and my story, not his. If you disagree with this, I totally get it, but I ask you to just unfollow and/or block rather than sending me any hate because I promise you that whatever you say about me "supporting" Wilbur Soot by continuing this blog is something I've already considered myself. He is not (active) on Tumblr, he did not receive any of the money I got from stickers, I doubt anyone is looking at this blog and thinking "wow this Wilbur guy seems cool, let me go listen to his music and watch his vods".

Despite this decision, I'll probably still be taking a bit of time to myself to think about things and focus on school. Updates will likely resume in late March or early April.

I hope you can all respect my stance on this, and I want to reiterate how much I appreciate you all for supporting my work. Love you guys <3