#Graduation Apparel

[customizedtshirt]

Buy Your Custom Graduation Apparel Only at Customized T-Shirt

🎓 Hey, graduates! Looking for customized apparel to celebrate your big day? 🤔 Look no further because Customized T-Shirt😀 has got you covered! 🙌With our wide range of designs🌈 and colors, you're sure to find a style that suits your taste. 💥 Contact us now to get started on your graduation wardrobe!🧥

#Buy Customized T shirt Dartmouth #Buy Customized T-shirt Dartmouth #Customized apparel printing Dartmouth mall #Custom Graduation Apparel #Buy Custom Gratuation Apparel #Apparel #Graduation Apparel

[kajmasterclass]

#How to Harness the Power of Your Emotion and Achieve Your Aim | Elizabeth Gould How to Harness the Power of Your Emotion and Achieve Your Ai #Speaker & High Performance Coach Elizabeth Gould has worked with leadership organisations including the Zuckerberg Institute to coach entre #FOX #Sky News and more. Elizabeth’s podcast ‘Feeling Forwards’ is in its sixth season and she lectures at a post Graduate level in Entreprene #content entrepreneur #podcast host #and independent journalist #brings global Masters of Money and Business to his audience through The KAJ Masterclass LIVE. With over 20 years of experience in renowned #Reuters #and Press Trust of India #Ajay now helps his audience succeed through his LIVE Masterclasses. Connect with Ajay: https://linkedin.openinapp.co/kaj Business inquiries #you support our channel at no extra cost. We earn a small commission from each sale #helping us create high-quality content for you. Thank you for your support! Apparel & Clothing: Shop authentic handloom sarees here (Get 15 #Magazines & Podcasting: Connect with top hosts & guests at PodMatch for podcasting success: https://www.joinpodmatch.com/kaj Get Smarter #Youtube

[critterbitter]

HELLO HI ID LIKE TO ASK WHAT PROGRAM AND BRUSHES YOU USE CUZ IM LITTERALY EXPLODING EVERYTIME I SEE YOUR ART

actually actually... *pulls out whole stack of paper*...I have. a FEW,, a good few,, questions to ask. they are not many I swear 😇

OK SO FIRST OF ALL HOW DO YOU DRAW SO FAST???? everyday I log onto Tumblr I always see something new from you and I get very very happy. But then I start to question my own existence because not even I CAN SPEED RUN ART LIKE THAT. AND SO SPECTACULARLY TOO

Last question! how do you color and make it look so well?? just. How. I need to know. This is a CRY FOR HE-

anyway thank you for being one of my favorite artists that always feed my brain rot, pls keep making amazing art because like a little yamper I will follow behind and stay updated.

(Stands there)

Response and thoughts under cut!

First question! What art program I use!

Mostly procreate, along with a handful of brushes! (Specifically the Jing Set and some custom stuff, which is really just a circle brush with the shape changed to a square.)

Second question! How do i draw so much!

Okay so. I am. Ahhah. Unemployed,,,,? No, I do freelance illustration, but hmm. A studio job would be nice.

i graduated college last year and I’m very used to eight hour art shifts. The body sort of remembers to keep working, even though I no longer have storyboards or visdev homework to do.

Also. The hyperfixation is a deep vast tunnel I STILL have not seen the end of the light to, good golly. (I have dreams now about the kids committing shenanigan crimes. I wake up in cold sweat and write them down in a journal. It’s like being the mouthpiece to an angry god.)

So the overall gist is: I was trained to be a storyboard artist with a visdev background, and I’m using that higher education to draw funny muppets because my brain’s funny.

I also DO have a queue, and I’ve been treating this as a sort of inktober project. I am definitely going to slow down soon though! Maybe. Hopefully. Ah… (sheepishly drops my kofi here)

Third question! How do i color!

I. I, uh. I dont know man the coloring demons have a grip on my soul and i just go along for the ride. But also, if it helps, i prefer to limit my pallets to only a few colors at a time. Lighting is king, so if you can figure out if you want to focus on either on your lights or shadows, you’ll have a much easier time composing. That, and symbolic colors— idk, something hits different about art drenched in gold with a tiny hint of a man staring into the blinding horizon, or a green leafy environment with a single dot of artificial red. I also like using blue and purple for shadows, and I’m a big fan of muting colors with only one or two that pop— one of the reasons why I was so attracted to submas in the first place is because from a design aesthetic, they’re both super funny muppet men AND really cool train guys that have a limited pallet and thematic apparel.

Overall response! THANK YOU SO MUCH. This goes out to a BUNCH of people who sent me inbox queries— sorry for not responding, it’s a tad overwhelming because some of them are story questions even I don’t really know will go yet, and others are words of praise and I’m selfish and like scrolling through the inbox to look at them when I feel down. I am more of an artist who sits in the corner and sprouts like a potato rather then a branching vine who socializes, but I really do see people’s responses and they make me go :)))))

Okay ramble over. Thanks for coming to the soapbox, and good luck on creating!

#critterbitter #ask #mailbox

[mwahkazu]

INTRODUCING — a covey of wanderlust !

⌕ slow cinnamon summer - a kazuha smau.

⟢ you :: left behind their idle suburban town to live in the bustling city instead. there was always something more exhilarating about city life, one that [name] desperately wanted a taste of. abandoning their previous plans of staying back home and attend a community college nearby, [name] applied on a whim to a university in the city and after being accepted, would eventually move there. and after graduation, they’d randomly invest in a bakery shop that has luckily managed to continue running to this day. of course, none of this came about to be easy. there were plenty of struggles and even now they remain anxious about the uncertainty that lies ahead. but soon along would come a gentle wisp of the wind, with a promise that tomorrow will surely come.

⟢ chiori :: a forthright seamstress who’s ultimate goal is to have her designs be modeled to the whole world. chiori’s ideals are as solid as stone, unswayed by the public’s opinion and following her intuition that speaks for her unique sense of aesthetics. her first official design would end up being for [name], creating an apparel uniform exclusive to the bakery itself, despite the fact [name] remains to be it’s only worker. but, chiori insisted, calling it neither a business collaboration nor a way of self-advertisement, but merely as favor for a dear friend. after all, the two had agreed to support each other back during their college days. when all they could do was dream of their desired futures.

⟢ gaming :: although the modern era has buried away times of old, this energetic and ambitious young fellow aspires to rekindle the wonders that traditional wushou dance carries. gaming has faced the highest of highs and lowest of lows when it comes to chasing his dreams. one of his strongest anchors during those times has been [name]. he will always recall the night in which he ran away from home, stumbling into their bakery to seek refuge from the rain. they welcomed him with a cup of warm tea and freshly baked blueberry muffins. gaming was never a fan of such. [name] would question nothing but instead listen to his troubles and console him, even though the two were complete strangers at the time. something would stir within gaming that night–something that would continue to fester inside of him with each glance they gave. now every time he stops by the bakery, he always asks for an order of blueberry muffins.

⟢ nilou :: regarded as one the most elegant of dancers of her time, nilou has dedicated the majority of her life to the graceful art of dance. her first exposure to dance was back when she was still a young child. nilou’s parents had taken her out to see a live performance of “swan lake” and seeing such a spectacle before her eyes had her in awe. her first love—ballet. by the time she reached university, nilou had branched out to several different styles of dancing and this was also the time she would become friends with gaming who then introduced her to [name] and chiori.

yuomi’s after notes:

reader and chiori have graduated university and are considered alumni while gaming and nilou are in their last year

everyone attend(ed) the same university as kazuha and charlotte

gaming has a pet cat named man chai

chiori’s favorite movie is the devil wears prada if you couldn’t already tell

nilou was orginally planned to be yunjin but nilou’s backstory came about more easier

reader’s icon credits: @/BasiiLeaf on twitter

instagram story header credits: @/cafekitsune

taglist (open): — if you are interested in being added to the taglist for this series, you can either comment on the masterpost or send to my inbox! same goes if you wish to be removed. bold means i cannot tag!

@sl-vega , @santaluna , @ceneid , @kaitfae , @whipped-for-fictionals , @itsactuallylina , @kazumiku , @ponyosupremacy , @calx-bdo , @peaceindreams , @simeonmybabygirlicious , @pwushizz , @1nazum4an , @vellichxrr6782 , @sorcerersseestars , @glxssmemories , @swivy123 , @rattyrattyratty , @sandwicz

#slow cinnamon summer ༉‧ #genshin #genshin impact #genshin smau #genshin x reader #genshin impact kazuha #genshin kazuha #kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha smau #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha x y/n #kazuha x gn reader #kazuha x gender neutral reader

[gainingfiction]

Suitable

Summary: Patrick doesn’t believe in curses. He certainly doesn’t believe that the oversized suit he bought as a gag costume is cursed to make him gain weight. And yet….

(Enjoy my 2022 Halloweight-gain-story! Better late than never, right?)

~

There’s no such thing as magic suits.

At least, that’s what Patrick told himself as he donned his Halloween costume for the evening. The idea was downright laughable. He wouldn’t have given it a second thought, if it wasn’t for the serious expression on the old salesman’s face when he issued his dire warning.

That guy was just weird, Patrick rationalized. It was true: the suit had been purchased from the octogenarian proprietor of an unkempt second-hand store, a heavily-accented man named Yuri who had sworn up and down that Patrick’s prospective Halloween costume was bound by some mysterious curse.

It was literally just a suit. A very big suit, to be fair, but that had nothing to do with magic: its former owner was just fat. Massively, enormously fat, judging by the way Patrick’s slender, athletic frame was drowning in yard after yard of Italian wool.

“You are warned,” Yuri had said. “You will grow into it. Will make you big man. Very big man.”

Patrick scoffed at the mere suggestion. He’d never weighed more than 180 pounds in his whole life. Well, 183, as of this morning. There was no way he’d ever “grow into” such a comically large outfit.

Feeding his belt through the loops, Patrick felt… nothing. No supernatural tingling, no sudden urge to gorge himself at a buffet. He just felt like a fit guy in a big suit. The old man was clearly trying to deploy some strange reverse psychology as a sales tactic. And, to his credit, it had worked. Patrick shelled out twenty dollars just to prove how ridiculous he found the idea of a so-called magic garment, even if it meant that he had no idea how to describe his costume. Sexy Biggest Loser contestant, perhaps?

He studied himself in the mirror, shirtless beneath the gigantic blazer. It wasn’t his usual slutty Halloween apparel, but foregoing a shirt allowed him to show off his tight little pecs and toned abs. Patrick was proud of his hard-earned body, and the way his sculpted jawline and strong cheekbones turned heads wherever he went. No “magic spell” was going to take that away from him.

With a smug smile adorning his perfect pink lips, Patrick left for the party.

The evening wasn’t as awkward as he’d feared. The host, Priti, was an old friend from his college days, and they hadn’t seen much of each other in the two years since graduation. But she welcomed him with enthusiasm, faithfully introducing him to his fellow partygoers: her coworkers from the pharmacy, a few college classmates Patrick had long forgotten about, and, most excitingly, her absolutely stunning cousin, Arjun.

To call Arjun a hunk would be an understatement. He was a walking deity, a 6’2” sculpted fantasy clad in a form-hugging Spiderman suit. If Hollywood needed a new Peter Parker for its endless reboots, they could scarcely do better. His white teeth almost sparkled, his eyes were as warm and deep as the summer sea, his glossy hair perfectly trimmed.

Patrick was smitten from the moment Priti introduced them, and he spent the rest of the evening practically hanging off Arjun’s big, brawny biceps. He was a personal trainer, of all things, and Patrick was quick to point out how much he looked the part. But Arjun didn’t seem put-off by Patrick’s incorrigible flirtation; in fact, he gave as good as he got, trailing his large hands across the lapels of Patrick’s massive suit and praising the quality of the fabric… and what lay underneath.

They were terrible guests, lingering by the snack table, locked in their own smouldering back-and-forth to the exclusion of everyone else in the room. But Patrick didn’t care, guzzling lager after lager and making come-fuck-me eyes at his sexy new friend.

And come-fuck-him Arjun did. They left the party as soon as they could without being rude, practically running to Arjun’s tidy apartment a few blocks over. And boy, did Arjun fuck him. He was a phenomenal lay, a deft top who could throw Patrick around like a ragdoll, bending him over and absolutely railing his toned, slender ass. Patrick came like a geyser, and, after a brief respite, came again.

When they finally collapsed into an exhausted pile, both men resolved to see each other again very soon.

“Very soon”, it so happened, was the next day. And the day after that. Arjun didn’t just look like a god, he fucked like a god, and Patrick couldn’t get enough.

As the weeks passed, Patrick caught himself snacking more than usual. He never kept junk food in the house, but whenever Arjun came over, he always brought something to eat: a bag of chips, a casserole dish of homemade lasagna, a box of fresh eclairs from the bakery down the street. For a personal trainer, he certainly had a taste for fattening treats. Not that he ever ate them himself: after their marathon lovemaking sessions, when they lazed on the couch, Patrick made short work of whatever offering Arjun laid out on the coffee table, while Arjun treated himself to the most occasional of bites.

Patrick knew he was overeating, and he tried to make up for it at the gym, but the weather was getting colder, and he often found himself skipping workouts in favour of a lazy afternoon with his insatiable fuckmachine. By the end of November, Patrick realized that his pants were getting tight.

He didn’t think much of it. It was winter weight, and he’d seen plenty of guys put on a few pounds in the early days of a happy relationship. And things with Arjun were going so well. He was a trainer, after all. Surely he wouldn’t let Patrick get doughy.

And yet, as the end of the year approached, Patrick was looking very doughy indeed. He was stunned when he stepped on the scale a few days before New Years and saw “197” flash across the display. How could he be almost 200 pounds?

He took a hard look in the bathroom mirror, still steamy from his morning shower. Pudge had piled up around his middle, hiding his abs and broadening his torso. And his pecs were looking noticeably puffy.

He turned around and studied his ass. Patrick’s butt had always been his favourite feature, kept trim and perky through years of dieting and rigorous exercise. It was still round and pert, but it looked bigger, now, and softer. There was more to grab and play with. Patrick cupped a handful, eyes widening as soft flesh gave way beneath his fingers.

“I need to go on a diet,” he said, frowning as he emerged from the bathroom.

Arjun looked over at him from the bed, his muscular body splayed out amid the messy sheets. They had been seeing a lot of each other, hooking up almost every day of the week, and Patrick knew that was part of the problem: Arjun was generous with food, and his visits were wreaking havoc on Patrick’s usual gym routine. It had been nearly two weeks since his last workout, and he was starting to feel soft and flabby.

Arjun’s eyes ran across his body, and he gave a small frown. “You look great to me,” he said, trailing a hand over his own abs. Patrick could see Arjun’s boner starting to tent the bedsheets. That was a little confidence boost, at least.

“I’m almost 200 pounds,” Patrick said. Saying it aloud felt shameful, even if Arjun was used to training far larger clients at his gym. But Patrick had never been big in his life. Even spread over six feet of height, 200 pounds felt like a bigger number than Patrick was comfortable with. “I’m getting chubby.”

Arjun shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think you look sexy. Lots of guys are going for that beefy look, anyway.”

Patrick wasn’t sure about that, but he didn’t want to be argumentative. Arjun was so easygoing, the last thing Patrick wanted was to seem high-maintenance. They hadn’t talked about labels yet, but Patrick was hoping to have that conversation soon. And if he wanted to be exclusive, he didn’t want to kill his chances by broadcasting his neuroticism to the hottest guy he’d ever dated.

But he couldn’t let it go completely.  “Still,” he said, laying a hand over his heart and feeling the flesh that gathered around his nipple. “I need to start working out again. It’s been too long.”

Arjun gestured to his erection, and then patted the bed next to him: “Well, how about we have a little workout of our own?”

Patrick grinned, and nearly leapt into bed.

By mid-January, Patrick absolutely couldn’t avoid buying new pants. His usual rotation now dug into his waist almost painfully, the button protesting against his excesses. And his ass and thighs were an existential threat to the seams, which looked about one wrong move away from total collapse. 

Patrick briefly considered a return trip to Yuri’s messy boutique, but he had no desire to see that weird guy again, or get another warning about magic spells. So he ended up at his favourite thrift store, where he was helped by a very handsome Middle Eastern employee in a Blondie t-shirt.

Patrick had to admit, size 34 fit a lot better than his usual 32s, and he felt his old confidence returning as he strode into the restaurant for a hot date with Arjun.

That confidence began to wane as he sat across from his jacked dinner companion, leaving Patrick feeling distinctly unimpressive. While Patrick had opted for a loose-fitting t-shirt, hoping to disguise his winter weight, Arjun filled out a tailored button-down like he was modelling it for a catalogue.

That night, they made their relationship official. They’d been practically exclusive since Halloween, anyway, spending almost all their spare time together. They fucked relentlessly, but they were also starting to act more like a couple: cuddling on the couch, window shopping downtown… and eating. Well, Patrick was eating, whether they were dining out, or staying in for the elaborate dinners that Arjun carefully prepared. A stud who could cook: Patrick felt like he had hit the jackpot. And now that stud was all his.

He was so excited to have locked down such a catch that Patrick didn’t think twice about polishing off Arjun’s half-finished chicken parm, and then eating 95% of the cheesecake they had planned on “splitting” for dessert.

As it turned out, Arjun was quite the romantic. Now that he was Patrick’s boyfriend, his generous doting ratcheted up to the next level: other couples might swap boxes of chocolate on Valentine’s Day, but Arjun started showing up with heart-shaped boxes of chocolate truffles four weeks before that. Big boxes. Patrick didn’t want to seem ungrateful, so he dutifully munched his way through each one, even as he started to tire of so much chocolate, even as he grew uncomfortably full.

Patrick knew he should have been watching his weight, but his commitment to Arjun (and Arjun’s commitment to him) acted as a safety net, a way to avoid taking a hard look at the consequences of his new relationship. And those consequences were starting to grow: Patrick’s sides now sported a small pair of love handles, just big enough to overhang the waistband of his briefs, and a small dome of fat rested atop his torso. His ass swelled, his thighs thickened… he wasn’t just growing a gut, he was porking up all over.

When he stepped on the scale on Valentine’s Day, the number nearly made him faint. 213 pounds. This was bad. This was very, very, bad. Patrick knew he was gaining weight; his 34-inch jeans, not yet a month old, were already feeling snug. But to have stacked on 30 pounds of pure blubber in just three and a half months… Well, it almost defied belief.

For an instant, Patrick thought back to Yuri’s warning. Will make you big man. He shook his head. Surely this wasn’t the work of a magic suit. He had just gotten lazy, and perhaps a bit gluttonous. He had been to the gym exactly twice since New Years, but he was eating far more than he used to, even when he worked out almost daily. Of course he was bound to gain weight.

He broached his concerns to Arjun over dinner. “I really need to stop pigging out,” he said, eying the bread basket that the waiter had just set in front of them. He wanted to grab a piece of bread, but he restrained himself.

Arjun looked bemused. “What do you mean?” he said, as if he genuinely hadn’t noticed Patrick rapidly gaining 30 pounds.

Patrick rolled his eyes, and gestured to his middle. “Look at me. I told you I was getting chubby, and now I’m getting fat. It’s gross.”

Arjun’s face fell. “Don’t say that,” he said, reaching out to rest his hand on top of Patrick’s. “I think you’re every bit as hot as the day I met you.”

Patrick scoffed. “Yeah, right,” he mumbled, avoiding Arjun’s gaze. It was embarrassing: Arjun looked as perfect as ever; clearly he could control himself. And yet, Patrick had done nothing but laze around, sitting on his ass all day at work and then going home to eat. Having sex was about the extent of his physical activity, these days.

“I mean it,” Arjun said, firmly. “You’re gorgeous. I’m lucky to have you.”

That coaxed a smile out of Patrick, but he was still embarrassed. “Even if I’m letting myself go?”

Arjun’s face took on a defiant quality. “I hate that phrase. ‘Letting yourself go’. It makes it sound like you’ve given up on life. But you haven’t. Look at me, are you happy?”

As he gazed into Arjun’s eyes, Patrick considered it. He had the man of his dreams, things were going well at work… finally, he nodded. He was happy.

“Then you haven’t let yourself go. You haven’t given up on life, you’re enjoying life. And if it shows, it shows. I could not care less,” Arjun said, stroking Patrick’s hand, his eyes searching Patrick’s face.

“You work at a gym, though,” Patrick said, resting his free hand on his stomach. His belly now rubbed against the front of even his loosest shirts, making itself unignorable. “You’re surrounded by guys who are way hotter than me, hotter than I’ve ever been.”

“Honey,” Arjun said. “Stop. Let me tell you what we’re going to do. You’re going to eat that bread, because I know you want to. We’re going to get a bottle of wine. You’re going to order the fettuccine, because it’s your favourite, and I’m going to treat you to that lava cake you love for dessert. Then we’re going to go home, get naked, and I’m going to show you how sexy I find every single inch of you. I know we said no gifts, but… I hear I’m pretty gifted.” He smiled.

Patrick had to admit, that sounded pretty good. 

Over the following weeks and months, the pattern repeated itself. Arjun showered Patrick with love, in the form of massive meals and piles of snacks. Patrick outgrew his 34s, and then his 36s. His weight slipped up to 224 pounds by the end of February, and 231 by the end of March. Even as “winter weight” ceased to be an excuse, and sunny April gave way to May, Patrick’s weight climbed beyond 240 pounds, and his 38-inch pants were getting uncomfortable.

He was confronted with a twinge of apprehension every time he checked the scale, every time he had to buy clothes in a size he never dreamed he’d need. And Arjun faithfully assuaged his anxieties, his gentle touch and loving words so soft and soothing that Patrick’s fears melted away.

But it wasn’t Arjun’s gentleness that made the biggest difference, it was his forcefulness. In the bedroom, his enthusiasm only seemed to grow alongside Patrick’s body. In the early days of their relationship, Arjun had been smooth and methodical, confidently gripping the firm edges of Patrick’s muscular frame. But lately, his lust was palpable, almost animal. Patrick could feel Arjun losing control as he gripped and squeezed Patrick’s broad, round stomach, cupped his budding breasts, slapped and groped and generally manhandled Patrick’s ever-fattening ass. There was a new intensity to their sex, already intense to begin with, that filled Patrick an unfamiliar, slightly disorienting sensation: excitement about his fattening body. A desire to grow.

He tried to deny it, at first, to dismiss it as a side-effect of the consistently Earth-shattering sex he was having. But even when Arjun wasn’t around, when he was all alone with just his fat belly to keep him company, that excitement didn’t abate. Something was happening to him. When he stepped on the scales on May 14th, his birthday, and saw that he weighed 251 pounds, he did still feel a little pang of anxiety. But he also felt something else, a distinct and undeniable stirring in his crotch that could only be arousal.

“Happy birthday,” Arjun purred, as they lay in bed that night. Patrick had just enjoyed the absolute best rimjob of his life, a sexual experience like no other. Arjun may not have been a big eater, but he ate ass like an absolute glutton, planting his face firmly between Patrick’s big, round buttocks and going to town with insatiable vigour. “Did you like that?”

Patrick could only nod, still trying to catch his breath. His extreme sedentariness, on top of gaining almost seventy pounds in less than 7 months, had left him seriously out of shape. His old workout routine wouldn’t just be a challenge for him, it would be an impossibility.

Arjun must have sensed how spent their sexcapade had left Patrick, since he gave a slight chuckle. His hand was draped across Patrick’s chubby chest, his nimble fingers stroking Patrick’s perky nipple. Patrick was acutely aware of his double-chin as he lowered his face to look down at his tits; he hadn’t expected that even his nipples would grow, but he was certainly enjoying the added sensitivity.

“You’re really good at that,” Patrick said, lamely, still trying to bring himself back to Earth. “Like, really good at that.”

“Well, you have a very delicious ass,” Arjun said, giving Patrick’s nipple a tweak and making him shiver. With a smirk, he added: “Like, very delicious.”

“Well there’s a lot of it, these days,” Patrick said. He didn’t even know how he felt about that: bitter? Gleeful? His emotions were so muddled, so clouded by his libido—especially in the afterglow—that they had become a Gordian Knot.

“More cushion for the pushin’,” Arjun said, simply, and patted Patrick’s gut.

“So you really like fat asses, huh?” Patrick said. Arjun’s inclinations had been obvious for months, but Patrick had been avoiding the conversation. He knew he was falling for this guy, but he was afraid that Arjun just saw him as a kinky sex-toy, someone he could fatten up and discard before moving onto the next unwitting twink. He knew that was irrational, and horribly unfair to a man who had been nothing but good to him, but he couldn’t stop looking for a catch.

“I do,” Arjun said. He looked Patrick in the eyes, and Patrick looked back. No matter what Arjun’s body looked like, those eyes could make any man fall in love. “But I specifically love your ass, fit or fat.”

“But you prefer it fat,” Patrick pressed on. He wanted an admission, tangible proof that Arjun had been knowingly spurring on his explosive weight gain. Surely it couldn’t be—

Patrick nipped that train of thought right in the bud. It wasn’t the fucking suit. There’s no such thing as a magic suit.

“Yeah, I like it fat,” Arjun said, biting his lower lip as he glanced away. It was a very cute look. Bashfulness suited him.

Patrick had his confession. Arjun was a chubby chaser, and Patrick was getting chased. He was quiet for a few moments, deciding what to do. Did he want to be thin again, an archetypical hottie who lit up a room? If so, he could destroy everything that might have caused this slide into obesity—because that’s what he was, now, fully and definitively obese. He could burn his old Halloween costume, kick Arjun to the curb, and diet interminably until he could see his abs again. It wasn’t too late.

He could also try to lose weight with Arjun; if he was telling the truth, if he really did appreciate Patrick’s body at any size, he would support him. He’d probably still burn the suit, in that case, just to be on the safe side.

But then, there was a third door. A very wide door, beckoning Patrick to step forward until his steps became a heavy, lumbering waddle. He could keep eating. Keep gorging. Keep gaining. Let himself blow up like a balloon, pack on the pounds until Arjun’s handsome face was entirely lost in a sea of ass-fat.

Patrick stepped towards door number three. Maybe he could try it, just for a while. What harm could a couple more pounds do, on top of the 70 he’d already gained? He smiled, lopsidedly. “How fat do you like it?” he asked, finally. “How fat are you gonna make it?”

Arjun looked up at him, mouth agape. “I—You—What?” he stammered.

Patrick doubled down. “What are you gonna do to my ass? How big are we talking: pumpkin? Beach balls? Minivan?”

Arjun inhaled sharply, no doubt surprised by this turn of events. Patrick could feel his boyfriend’s cock swelling against his pudgy thigh. The fact that the suggestion of a minivan-sized ass inspired that sort of arousal told Patrick all he needed to know. Surely he wouldn’t get that fat—it was a little bit of anatomically-implausable sexual hyperbole—but he definitely wouldn’t mind giving Arjun a bigger ass to play with. At least a little bigger.

Patrick didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Why don’t you go get the rest of my birthday cake and you can show me again how much you love fat asses?”

Arjun leapt out of bed like the athlete he was, bare cock standing proudly at attention. “Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be right back.”

Patrick grinned. His 25th year was off to a very good start.

It was hard to get used to the idea that he might actually enjoy being fat, and want to get even fatter. He was naturally thin—he used to be, at least—so the concept that weight gain could be something fun, something to be encouraged, was alien to Patrick at first. And yet, he couldn’t deny his body. His belly was growing accustomed to eating big, and his dick was clearly enjoying it. With those two powerful appendages urging him on, compounded by Arjun’s relentless feeding, Patrick continued to balloon.

I’ll gain maybe five more pounds. Ten tops, Patrick told himself the day after his birthday. And yet, a month later, the scale said he had gained 12. Okay, maybe ten more, he reasoned. 260 didn’t feel as big as he thought it would, anyway. Sure, he was huge, but he didn’t feel that huge. 250 and 260 weren’t so different, right? And besides, what was he supposed to do? Stop eating the food he’d come to love? Go back to the gym he’d abandoned months ago? Deny Arjun the great pleasure of his growing body?

He still had moments of uncertainty. When he couldn’t button his pants, and he realized that he had hopelessly outgrown anything smaller than a 42-inch waist, Patrick felt a pit in his stomach. What am I doing to myself? He wondered, as he made one last feeble attempt to stuff himself into a pair of 40s. 

But when he gave up, and let his hands roam across his gut, his nervousness evaporated. It was so soft, so fun to knead and fondle and play with. He’d gained so much, so quickly, that it still held its round shape, but rolls were starting to crop up, with a noticeable one forming between his breasts and his belly. His love handles expanded, too, and he realized how apt that name was: they really were like handles, slabs of side-fat that he could wrap his fingers around and properly squeeze, feeling the give of so much stretch mark-lined flesh. And he really did love them.

He let his hands slip up further, cupping his breasts, bouncing one and then the other. He felt like an absolute cow as mammary fat spilled between his fingers. Those last 12 pounds must have hit his chest and upper belly hard.

By the time Patrick stood, kicking off the jeans that could no longer handle him, he wasn’t anxious at all: he was horny.

Arjun took care of that.

Over the following months, Patrick felt like a kid who couldn’t go to bed. But instead of “ten more minutes”, it was “ten more pounds”. His ass, a feature that Arjun adored even more than Patrick himself, spread and swelled, and he found himself bumping into things constantly. He could still remember what it was like to have small, hard glutes, but that memory was starting to fade as he buried those glutes deeper and deeper under an ever-growing layer of pure, unadulterated lard. His perky little ass, the crown jewel of his twinkish body, had given way to a pair of vast, juicy buttocks. It was still holding its round shape, each cheek almost perfectly globular and still pert. But as he passed 280 pounds, Patrick could tell that gravity would have the last laugh.

By early July, he’d gained exactly 100 pounds, sitting pretty at 283. He hadn’t expected that gaining weight would make him hairier, but it made sense. More surface area needed more fuzz to cover it all, and his gut was getting massively fuzzy. That was one of many unexpected changes. Others weren’t quite as fun, like the soreness he felt in his lower back when he had to stand for more than 20 minutes, a side-effect of living life with a 50-pound medicine ball strapped to his abdomen. But even that wasn’t so bad: it gave him an excuse to live an even more idle existence, with Arjun happy to indulge him.

The sweating was another unwelcome companion. In the summer heat, he could really feel the hundred pounds of added insulation. He used to love going to the beach, playing volleyball with his friends and flaunting his slender body for admiring onlookers. This year, he preferred relaxing indoors, where he could let it all hang out and feel the cool AC on his sprawling belly. Arjun joked that his house was like an icebox, and Patrick pointed out that that was where a pig belonged.

They did make it to the beach a few times, including on Labour Day. Patrick shied away from taking off his shirt, at first, but Arjun talked him into it, and his expression of unrestrained adoration made it all worthwhile. They must have made quite the pair: the personal trainer, 200 pounds of rock-hard muscle, walking hand-in-hand with a red-faced porker who outweighed him by a hundred pounds, rolls of fat bouncing and wobbling as he ambled down the boardwalk.

“I think we’re confusing people,” Patrick said. He lay in the sand, tonguing an overloaded ice cream cone. A middle-aged couple openly stared at him as they walked past, looking from Arjun to Patrick and back again in search of a logical explanation. The explanation was obvious, but clearly beyond their comprehension.

“Well, you’re due for some more sunscreen. How about we really put on a show?” Arjun suggested, licking his lips.

Patrick leaned back, flicking down his sunglasses, and kept working on his ice cream as Arjun slathered his belly with creamy lotion. It was a blatant belly rub, and heads certainly turned at the sight of the stunning jock basting his beloved pig, but Patrick was so focused on the pleasurable feeling that he barely noticed the slack-jawed onlookers. Arjun pressed his fingertips deep into Patrick’s flab, a skillful massage that left Patrick wanting more.

When he finished his ice cream cone, he got his wish: “Roll over,” Arjun said. “I’ll do your back.”

Another shift occurred when Patrick crossed the 300-pound mark. He’d expected 300 pounds to be incomprehensibly fat, a size beyond all reason, but it didn’t feel that much bigger than 250. The difference between 250 and 200 had felt much more pronounced. Sure, he had more rolls now, and his gut hung out well in front of him, but he wouldn’t mind being bigger. He did dispense with the fiction that he’d stop in another ten pounds: he’d reassess at 350. That was a nice, round number, and it wouldn’t sneak up on him the way 10 pounds always seemed to.

He thought back to January, just nine months earlier, when he’d been terrified of crossing 200 pounds. It was an amusing thought; that version of Patrick was positively tiny compared to the man he now was, and he was far from afraid of growing. He was actually looking forward to it. Dating an incredibly sexy feeder had grown his confidence. It had changed him.

Or maybe it’s that suit, a nagging voice in Patrick’s head said. Sometimes, when he was self-conscious about how quickly he was ballooning, he fell back on that old line: it wasn’t his fault, he was the victim of paranormal forces beyond his control. But he knew he couldn’t blame a stupid Halloween costume for his out-of-control gluttony. It was all on him, and his encouraging boyfriend.

Changes were occurring in the bedroom, too. As fat became a bigger driving force behind his sexuality, Patrick leaned deeper into his submissive side. He liked feeling Arjun’s forceful hands all over his bulging body. He liked to hear what a fat, out-of-control pig he was becoming. Just hearing the word “hog” leave Arjun’s lips was enough to ratchet up Patrick’s arousal by an order of magnitude. He was a pig, a desperate little piggy who needed to be stuffed from both ends.

When he could feel Arjun inside of him, his voluminous belly tantalizingly close to brushing the bed, his fat jiggling with every forceful thrust… that was pure heaven. He honestly wasn’t sure he could go back to sex as a skinny boy again. Now that been told that he was Arjun’s pig, felt his hundreds of pounds shake and bounce as he bottomed, he didn’t see how it could compare.

“Can you believe we’ve known each other for almost a year?” Arjun asked one day, in mid-October. He was nearly done unpacking the last of his boxes, having moved into Patrick’s apartment as soon as his lease was up. That had been the source of some debate: Arjun’s place was nicer, but it was a fourth-floor walk-up, and Patrick didn’t think he could handle all that cardio. The rent was cheaper in Patrick’s building, anyway, and between the elevators and the air conditioning, it felt like a better fit for a growing fatboy.

“It feels like we’ve known each other forever,” Patrick replied. He meant it. He thought back to the person Arjun had met, and how much he’d changed in their time together.

There had been one other change since last Halloween: Patrick was starting to wonder if maybe there were such things as magic clothes. Rationally, he knew he couldn’t blame his weight on a spell, but still… Yuri had said Patrick would get fat, and fat was exactly what he had gotten. He was shirtless, his heavy thighs overloading a pair of stretchy basketball shorts. He eyed his gut, admiring the way it bounded forward into his lap, a crop of hair covering his impressive collection of stretch marks.

“Priti’s throwing another Halloween party this year,” Arjun said, as he shelved some of his books. “Any couple’s costume ideas?”

Patrick mulled it over. Just six months ago, he would have been embarrassed by a costume that emphasized his fat. Now, he wanted to display the full magnitude of his size. “Farmer and prize pig? Fat guy, hot wife?”

“Oh, I know. Jabba the Hutt and Princess Leia,” Arjun said, smirking.

“I would love to see you in that metal bikini, but you might get cold,” Patrick said. “We have some time to think it over, at least.”

Arjun nodded. “We could always just repeat our old costumes,” he said. “But I think ‘Biggest Loser contestant’ might take on a new meaning, in your case.”

“That may have been my worst costume ever,” Patrick said. “But I do remember one guy seemed to appreciate it.”

“Well, he sounds smart, and very handsome,” Arjun said. He tossed himself onto the couch, slinging his arm over Patrick’s protruding keg.

“Yeah, but he has a bit of an ego,” Patrick teased, kissing his man on the cheek. “Thank God he’s great in bed.”

Arjun snuggled in closer, and Patrick melted beneath his forceful touch, delighting as his bare belly was kneaded and rubbed. Whatever the costume, Patrick couldn’t wait to spend another Halloween with Arjun.

~

“I really don’t think it’ll fit,” Arjun said, staring at the suit that Patrick had worn for Halloween just three years before.

In that time, he’d gone far beyond doubling his weight: he’d shot past 400 pounds, and now hovered—or rather, sprawled out—around 460. Naturally, his gains had slowed down, but he was still growing at a fairly rapid rate, and he could see 500 pounds in the not-so-distant future.

“Just let me give it a try,” Patrick said, feeling defiant. The suit had been so outrageously large on him, swallowing his lean body. But as he held up the pants, each leg larger than his waist had once been, he was forced to reckon with the fact that they looked smaller than anything he usually wore.

He stepped into them as gingerly as a man of such impressive proportions could hope to, and started to pull them up. But as the fabric gathered around his thighs, he could feel trouble brewing. As he started to tug them over his ass, he knew that this was a fool’s errand.

Too proud to quit, he kept trying, his enormous gut swaying and wobbling from the motion, the exertion starting to take his breath away. He could feel his rolls quivering and his ample breasts bouncing as he pulled pointlessly on the waistband. He’d covered a little over two thirds of the sprawling hillsides he called an ass before he finally surrendered, out of breath and sweating.

He sighed defeatedly. “I definitely can’t wear this to Priti’s wedding.”

Arjun rubbed his broad back. “Hey, no worries. We can give it away. And who knows, maybe we’ll find a tailor who can turn a canvas tent into a kurta big enough to fit you.”

Patrick laughed. “Or maybe we can just go shopping at Big & Tall. And as for getting rid of this suit, I think I know where to go.”

He had to go back to the place where it all began, the source of this mysterious garment. There had been a brief window of time where it had actually fit, but for most of the time Patrick owned it, it had gathered dust in his closet, either too big or too small for public consumption, taunting him all the while.

He’d told Arjun long ago about Yuri’s bizarre warning, and Arjun had dismissed it as quickly as Patrick once had. Patrick knew it was nonsense, but still… if he had the opportunity, he wanted to hear it from the source.

He paused to rest and recover for a bit once he’d stripped off the pants, sitting on the bed as Arjun carefully placed the massive outfit on a hanger. Finally, Patrick got up and stuffed himself into an enormous pair of sweatpants, before pulling on a colossal t-shirt that nevertheless failed to fully contain his girth, leaving sizable swathes of fat exposed at the front and on the sides.

He waddled his way to the elevator, different rolls and bulges shifting and bouncing with every step. Finally, he reached Arjun’s car, relieved to be able to sit down again. He dropped himself into the passenger seat, and the car dipped to the side beneath so much added weight. Driving him to work must have been hell on poor Arjun’s gas mileage, but Patrick was getting too fat to safely operate his own little sedan.

He gave directions to the shop, eager to see if it even still existed. Perhaps that was part of the magic, and it had never existed at all… but no, eventually Arjun turned onto the quiet street at the edge of downtown, and parked mercifully close to the store’s shabby storefront. Somehow, it was very much still in existence.

Patrick lumbered through the doors, expecting to see Yuri doing some sort of mysterious ritual. Instead, he saw a handsome young man in a purple tracksuit, staring distractedly at his phone. The store was empty, just as it had been last time, and no neater than Patrick remembered.

He bellied up to the cash register, resting the frontmost portion of his gut on the counter to take some of the load off his back. “I’m—” he paused, realizing that the short walk from the car had left him out of breath. Jesus, I’m out of shape, he thought. He looked around for Arjun, who wore an unimpressed expression as he browsed one of the disorganized racks. “I’m here to donate this,” he managed, his breathing having slowed enough to converse.

The guy looked up from his phone, awestruck. Patrick was used to being the fattest person a lot of people had seen in a while, sometimes ever, and he had acquired a taste for their shocked expressions. He liked to watch their eyes try to explain to their brains the full scope of the human being in front of them. Patrick sat the suit down on the counter. “I bought it here a couple of years ago, but it doesn’t fit anymore.”

“Uh, okay,” the guy said. Clearly this was TMI. The cashier at his go-to thrift store always seemed excited to hear about Patrick’s escalating poundage, but he was a rare breed. “You can just leave it here.”

Patrick couldn’t just leave. He’d come here for a purpose. “But… I’ve got to know,” he said. He glanced around the store, still empty, and lowered his voice. He leaned towards the cashier, who looked more confused than ever. “Is this thing really cursed?”

The cashier goggled at him. “Cursed?” He repeated, probably questioning his hearing.

“Yeah. That’s what the old man who works here told me, but I didn’t believe him. I was smaller than you when I bought it, but now look at me.”

“Wh—old man? You mean uncle Yuri?” The guy said. His face broke into a broad grin and he covered it with his hand. “Okay, I’m sorry, but that suit is definitely not cursed.”

“Look at me, though,” Patrick repeated. “I’m a whale!” To drive the point home, he grabbed the part of his belly that poked out from under the hem of his shirt and gave it a shake, sending waves of gelatinous motion through his rolls of flab.

“Okay, but…” the cashier sighed. “Yuri is a weird guy. He likes fat guys. Half the clothes he sells are supposedly ‘cursed’ with some spell that makes guys fat. But it’s not real. He just thinks he can fatten guys up with the power of suggestion. I don’t know why he does it, it’s not like they ever come back.”

Patrick folded his chubby arms, forcing his voluminous cleavage together. “So the ‘power of suggestion’ made me gain 275 pounds?”

The cashier’s eyes widened. “Well, what have you been eating?”

Patrick considered his consumption that morning. It was only 11 AM, but he’d already eaten two breakfasts. The first was a handful of sausage McGriddles with a half-dozen hashbrowns, washed down with a large iced mocha, and followed up with half a dozen powdered donuts. “But… maybe it’s the suit that’s making me hungry,” he said, halfheartedly, realizing how ridiculous he sounded.

The dreamboat behind the register arched an eyebrow. “C’mon, dude. You seriously believe in magic clothes?”

Patrick hesitated. It all seemed crazy, to him, but how else could have turned into such a fatass? He’d been a hunk! There had to be a supernatural explanation.

The cashier picked up the suit and studied it. “I remember this. People don’t bring us bespoke Italian suits very often. The guy who gave it away lost a bunch of weight, he said he wouldn’t need it anymore. Does that sound cursed to you?”

Patrick frowned. His ego compelled him to come up with some explanation other than gluttony and sloth, something that would absolve him of responsibility for his own fattening choices. “Well, maybe Yuri put a spell on it.”

The cashier rolled his eyes. “Listen to yourself, man. Yuri was a professor of statistics at Lomonosov. Not some wizard. He moved to this country to hit on chubby American boys, like yourself, not to hex twinks, or whatever you think happened to you.”

“Chubby” seemed like an understatement, given Patrick’s current state of morbid obesity, but he appreciated the guy’s generosity. “So I’m… just fat, for no reason?”

The guy smirked. “Well, I’m sure there’s a reason, but it’s not this suit.”

As if on cue, the reason for Patrick’s staggering size appeared at his side. “So, no curse?” Arjun said.

The guy rolled his eyes. “No, no curse. I can take it off your hands if it doesn’t fit anymore, but I wouldn’t expect anything to change.”

Patrick was pensive as they left the store, contemplating what he’d just heard. So Yuri had just… made it all up? Because he was kinky? 

Then what was this all about? Patrick wondered. Surely there were more direct ways to indulge in your kink. It all felt a bit strained.

“I don’t know,” he said, as he waddled over to Arjun’s SUV. “I still think the spell could be real. I mean, I was wearing the suit when I met you, and you’ve been a horrible influence.”

Arjun seemed to consider this theory. “Eh, come on. I’ve dated gainers before, and they’ve all gained weight without magic clothes to help them. And now that the suit is gone, do you really think you’ll stop gaining?”

Patrick sighed. Was he the author of his own massive fate? Was there really nothing supernatural at play? He felt like pointing out that those guys had been gainers when Arjun met them, but he continued before Patrick had the chance.

“But…” Arjun rubbed his chiselled chin as he reached the driver’s side door. “Maybe you’re onto something. Maybe our relationship is the spell, the thing that’s turned you into such an insatiable gainer. Maybe it’s our love that’s magic.”

Patrick laughed out loud as he started the process of heaving himself into the passenger seat. “You’re so damn cheesy. C’mon, man. ‘Power of love’ my fat ass.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Arjun smiled. “Speaking of cheesy, want some poutine?”

Patrick pawed at his massive gut, which grumbled its demand. “That depends, lover boy. Is it magic poutine? Will it make me even fatter?”

Arjun’s smile broadened. “I think we can figure something out.”

#non-consensual feeding/fattening #light teasing/degradation #weight gain #male weight gain #weight gain story #wg story #realistic gain #gaining fiction #apologies to my followers in Australia and New Zealand who will wake up to this on November 1st lol

[triskhellion]

Legs

Rated: Explicit (4.3k)

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale

Tags: POV Stiles, Werecreature Stiles, Tall Stiles, Pack Beta Derek, AU - No Hale Fire, Getting Together, Stiles & Derek are College Students & Little Shits with Big Dicks, Piercings, Dry Humping, Spanking, Marking, Derek's Ass, Smut & Snark, Explicit Sex Acts, Bottom-ish Derek, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Balto References.

Summary: The one where Werecreature Stiles works at the mall and crosses paths with his crush, Derek, upstairs at the movie theater after close.

Super Blue Moon prompts: 13, Black Cherry, [spoiler*,] Special & Summer

“Thank fucking God,” Stiles muttered to himself as the key finally turned in the lock after jiggling the damn door until everything lined up just right. 

He shoved his work keys into his right pocket and then ran his hand through shaggy mid-length hair — his natural espresso brown with thick streaks of dark red — as a small plastic bag dangled from his other wrist. Sighing in relief, he headed down the maze of employee corridors behind the stores on the second floor of Beacon Mall.

Being a supervisor at Spox left much to be desired, especially in the summer, but at least he got a discount on the bullshit that the wannabe Spencer’s/Hot Topic sold. He even got stuff for free if it was about to be tossed for one reason or another. Jacob happened to drop a bottle of nail polish in his favorite color — Black Cherry, of course — on the concrete floor in back and while it didn’t actually crack where it mattered a piece of the top broke off and it got pretty scratched up, so now it was his. There was also a partially mangled GIR figurine, which only improved it in his opinion.

Stiles was looking forward to redoing his nails when he got home or maybe tomorrow afternoon on his day off, but first he was going to catch a movie at the multiplex upstairs. 

Hanging back from the ticket counter, he was weighing his options when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Glancing over, he saw a multigenerational group of mostly dark haired, dark appareled people who were all unfairly attractive. Hales.

He knew that they were wolves and, as far as he could tell, the older ones knew that he was something, though not what. 

His kind were fairly rare, at least in the States, because feline shifters were much more likely to mate with humans and then usually had human children when they did, unlike their canine cousins. Stiles happened to be the not quite 1 in 3 offspring of a such a mating to take after the shifter parent, his mother. 

In addition, while their more solitary nature could help them fly under the radar, it also left them vulnerable to Hunters or other hostile creatures if they were actually detected. (It wasn’t that they’d never join up with other Weres or live in larger groups, but it would have to be something the individual actively wanted rather than a need or custom.) They had a natural masking ability — some extra bit of magic perhaps — that let them conceal their scent and other body signs at will, but that too could give them away if used at the wrong time.

And then historically, well, wolves didn’t often care to have other predators on their territory and also had a very annoying habit of trying to claim that everything was their territory. As if the the absence of another pack meant an area wasn’t really claimed or that they didn’t have to share. Stiles wasn’t worried about the Hales hunting him, though. Things were much more civilized these days and they didn’t seem to be the “Retvrn” sort.

He’d seen the middle child of the Alpha, Derek, around Beacon Hills High before the overachieving beta graduated a couple years ahead of him. They were both at BHU now, soon to start their senior and sophomore years respectively, and Stiles would be lying if he said he didn’t make sure that he still saw him around occasionally despite having no classes in common on the sprawling campus. 

The guy was gorgeous and by all accounts a decent person despite being a popular and rather audacious jock. I mean, football, swimming, basketball, and lacrosse over his high school career? Ridiculous. Derek had finally settled on the latter when he went to BHU on a scholarship and was currently captain of the team.

Stiles had tried out for lacrosse himself the year after Derek graduated, though with the exception of a few shining moments of glory he mostly warmed the bench with Scott. Track and field was more his speed, which he finally realized senior year. The 300m dash, 110m hurdle, high jump, and triple jump were his chosen events. 

The Hales had been there at the state championship to cheer on Peter’s recently discovered daughter, Malia, in her commanding performance in the 3,000m run and javelin for neighboring Oak View High. Stiles had clipped a hurdle and gone down rather embarrassingly in the middle of his first race, but won bronze in the high jump and gold in the triple jump and 300m dash. 

Their eyes locked briefly during the team celebrations after the meet, an amused smile on Derek’s face as he watched Scott tug him away toward the group heading for the diner. He looked back a few times as Derek was approached by fans on the lacrosse team and then rejoined by his girlfriend at the time, Paige, and they wandered off together. 

That was pretty much the extent of their interactions, but when Stiles got home late that night he brought himself off to thoughts of the wolf between his legs.

Back in the here and now, he suddenly realized that he’d been staring and looked away to find that one of the younger present Hales — Cora if he remembered correctly — was observing him with a smirk. He turned back to the schedule board and worried his bottom lip, playing with the black snakebite studs underneath. Well, at least they won’t *smell* what I was thinking about. When he glanced over again Derek was now watching him too, eyebrows raised and that same amused smile on his face.

Stiles nodded in greeting, trying to act nonchalant and likely failing. There were murmurs and giggles behind him as he walked up to the bored looking employee with Electric Lizard green afro puffs. Shayna, who frequented his store and hooked him up with free snacks and premium showings if the right people were checking stubs in return for discounts and discontinued items.

His fingers started tapping on the counter when moments later the wolves also stepped up to buy tickets in the line beside him and he could practically feel the weight of their collective attention. They’d opted for the same sci-fi action-thriller, but Stiles was “upgraded” to the 3D IMAX and the Hales were content with a regular screening starting fifteen minutes later, so they weren’t in the same theater. He wasn’t sure if he was more relieved or disappointed. 

As luck would have it though, he and Derek ended up going for a bathroom break at the same time, black lined whiskey brown eyes meeting hazel-green in the mirror above the sinks.

“Stilinski.” 

“Hale.”

Stiles was surprised that the upperclassman actually knew who he was. Probably Cora’s doing. 

Derek turned and leaned back between the basins while drying his hands with a paper towel, nostrils flaring and blatantly checking him out. Stiles snorted and turned sideways, shaking his hands and leaving damp spots on his t-shirt as he crossed his arms and waited for the inevitable question. 

“So, I know this is rude and all, but I just have to ask—“

“Do you, really? Is there a gun to your head?” he snarked.

Derek grinned, tossing the crumpled paper into the bin over his shoulder without looking, and sidled closer smelling of curiosity and attraction. He lowered his voice conspiratorially even though they were the only ones in there.

“What are you?”

Stiles sighed and straightened up to his full nearly 6’3”, gazing down into the werewolf’s eyes as if searching for some kind of assurance. It wasn’t forbidden to tell or anything, but he’d never done so before and wasn’t certain that it was a good idea. If it’d be a whole thing with the Hales or make the cocky beta that he’d been stupidly crushing on run the other way. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Derek said emphatically, his face growing serious for a few moments before breaking into a grin again. “Not even if you’re a sweet little rabbit or something. But you’re not a bouncing bunny boy, are you?”

Stiles bared his teeth and showed a hint of fang. “No.”

“I didn’t think so.” Derek winked and waited expectantly.

Lips threatening to twitch into a smile, he rolled his eyes and let his arms drop, swinging his right hand up and making a circular motion. “Guess.”

“Hmm…”  

Assessing eyes looked him over again and warm fingers reached to take his wrist, bringing it towards that handsome, stubbled face to sniff at the thin skin over his rapid pulse. A light kiss was placed in the center of his palm. 

“Large hands,” Derek mused, replacing his mouth with a grazing thumb and then staring down at size 15 sneakers — what else, black and dark red — which had to be ordered from a speciality store. “Larger feet.” 

He was already flushing when that hungry gaze landed on the crotch of his black skinny jeans, which were getting progressively tighter, before meeting his again. Blown pupils ringed in gold and the heady spicy-sweet scent of arousal. “Large…everything?”

Stiles licked his lips and then they were kissing, the wolf delving into his mouth and backing him against the side wall. He let Derek take control a little longer, enjoying his eagerness and the curiosity about his jewelry. Then he slinked down and out of the cage of those muscular arms to push him face first into the white tiles. 

“What do you think?” Stiles hissed, grinding against Derek’s ass and earning a moan when he nipped an earlobe.

Minutes later he was leading them through the service corridors, each with a strategically placed outer layer held in front of them (flannel and leather jacket respectively,) and into a dim storeroom. He was pressed back into the closing door, a hot mouth latching onto his throat as soon as they were shut inside. 

Stiles froze momentarily, unused to allowing another predator access to such a vulnerable area, but he made himself relax and enjoy the enthusiastic attention. Eventually, he grasped Derek’s head and pulled it back so that he could take his turn, gently biting and licking over unguarded flesh before finally bringing their roving lips and tongues together. When they came up for air he had a calf wrapped behind Derek’s knee and there was a hand running under his hiked up thigh leaving a trail of tingles through the soft, stretchy denim.

“Long legs,” Derek whispered, squeezing and making him jolt, the motion driving Stiles’ hardness into his. Half-lidded eyes flashed beta gold and he let his own glow a bright, pale green. “Beautiful.”

He blushed and began to rub himself against Derek from face to abdomen, loving the way the other man’s scruff prickled and burned his cheeks. Holding onto his shoulders, Stiles rocked his pelvis into him and Derek responded in kind. At some point in the haze of grinding and kissing they ended up on the floor, the wolf on top of him pulling up his shirt to play with his nipples and rutting between his thighs.

Stiles was snaking an arm between them to undo their pants when Derek stilled and groaned, coming at the brush of his hand. To hell with it, Stiles thought, glomming onto him and writhing shamelessly, finding the hair trigger hot and not wanting him to be embarrassed. When he was close he pulled his cock out of his jeans, pumped a few times, and came into his fist. 

“Fuck,” he breathed as he flopped down, withdrawing his hand. He was contemplating getting up and grabbing one of the rolls of toilet paper stacked on the other side of the room or just wiping it on his flannel a few feet away, but Derek grabbed his forearm and very deliberately brought it towards his mouth. Stiles let his fingers open and a hot tongue darted over and between them, still golden eyes holding his gaze his while licking him clean.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his cock twitching in a valiant attempt to get hard again.  

Derek chuckled and slid off to the side their legs still tangled together. A text came in for him soon after and he rolled his eyes, sending one back while absently carding Stiles’ hair as they basked in the afterglow.

Setting the phone down, Derek took his hand once more — thicker fingers playing with his and complimenting his nail polish — and told him how he had seen him around campus, but didn’t think he actually had a chance with the “cool, unimpressed freshman” until Cora mentioned his apparent interest (i.e., blatant staring.)

Stiles was surprised, but quite pleased. He didn't think Derek would notice him at all after he decided not to continue his athletic endeavors at BHU. As much as he enjoyed the events and being on the team he loved his free time more, especially because he already had an academic scholarship and wanted to be able to work and help his dad.

“Well, “I’ve had a crush on you since freshman year of high school, so…”

Derek smiled all crinkly and adorable, kissing his nose and letting go of his hand to pet his belly. Stiles closed his eyes and melted into the warm, rhythmic sensation. Soothing. Possessive. Before he knew it he had unconsciously began to purr. 

Sounds of amusement and epiphany followed and when he looked up Derek was wearing a wide grin.

“You’re a cat!”

Stiles made an affronted noise. “Sure, if you’re a dog.” 

“Come here, pretty kitty,” Derek crooned, pspspsing at him and dangling fingers overhead. Stiles caught his arm and bit it, eliciting a dramatic “Ow!” despite the lack of blood.

“Cats love bite,” he shrugged mischievously.

“Wow, you’re already admitting that you love me...” 

Stiles sputtered and then snatched the still unlocked phone from the smug wolf, keeping it out of reach long enough to send himself a text. He begrudgingly got up once Derek wrestled it back, wishing they could stay longer but not wanting to push his luck. 

After straightening and dusting their clothes, helping each other where they couldn’t reach, Stiles kissed him — squeezing his ass one more time — and pulled him back into the hallway after a quick scan. He wasn’t concerned about the security guards supposedly watching the monitors because he had it on good authority that most of the cameras back here were useless.

Shayna raised her eyebrows and smirked when they returned to the theater and he did his best impression of wide-eyed innocence. They parted ways outside the auditorium where the rest of the Hales were apparently enjoying a massive explosion. 

“Later, Legs,” Derek called.

Stiles flipped him off over his shoulder as he walked away grinning like a fool.

The next weekend found him standing in the Preserve around noon, just across from Hale territory after sending his coordinates. Checking the reply, he removed his custom seamless niobium lip rings and carefully placed them in a tiny ziplock bag in his pocket next to his wallet and some wet wipes before undressing and bundling up his things. He dropped into his full shift. 

Stiles didn’t do the whole shebang all that often, but it was frequent enough to make having to re-pierce himself kinda annoying. Transforming immediately closed the holes and the time he tried just leaving his jewelry in…well, let’s just say they migrated in unexpected and hilariously unfortunate ways. It screwed up his nails too, but this was worth it.  

He twisted and stretched, extending and retracting his claws, and then climbed into a tree to wait. It wasn’t long before a large black wolf came sniffing around. Silently he crouched, his scent and and heart beat hidden, and then jumped down right behind him, swatting the startled canine’s backside and immediately taking off. He laughed internally as an indignant howl trailed behind him. 

After evading among the trees, climbing and taunting when his pursuer got too close, Stiles finally jumped down and let himself be chased into the open. He was tackled moments later, but turned to get his hind paws between them, claws poised against the wolf’s belly just as fangs gripped his throat. A stalemate. Warm air rushed across his neck from an amused huff and they both slowly pulled back, shifting forms. 

Derek gave him a look of admiration 

“A lynx! No wonder you have legs for days…gorgeous.”  

“You’re not too bad yourself, Balto,” Stiles replied, blushing. He sat up and knocked their shoulders together, laughing at Derek’s glare and drinking in the sight of his naked body. Fingers traced over scrunched up eyebrows. “Oh, too good to save the kids from diphtheria, are we? For shame…” 

With a growl the wolf pounced on him again and grabbed his wrists, holding them against the ground above his head. 

“When in Nome,” Derek smirked, leaning in and licking his face. Stiles giggled and kissed him, enjoying the feel of skin on skin even as he prepared to strike. 

In the blink of an eye he had them rolled over, wrenching an arm free and straddling a surprised Derek with claws to his neck. He flashed his eyes and the beta submitted, baring more of his throat. 

“Good boy,” he purred, delighting in how Derek whined and squirmed beneath him. Pleasure, embarrassment, and arousal bloomed in the late summer air. 

Stiles nipped and licked over his chest, moving further down to wrap a hand around his nice, big cock and jack the thick, velvety shaft. Precum beaded at the tip and he lapped it up before stretching wide to suck and slide to where he grasped the base. He wished he still had his lip rings in for this, but alas, another time. 

After edging Derek to his heart’s content — mouthing his balls and leaving pretty dark red bruises on his inner thighs, teasing around the head and enveloping him to the root in turns — Stiles finally relented and let him come. He swallowed everything that Derek had to give, including the remnants of his desperate cries when he crawled back up and licked into his parted lips, sharing the taste of him. 

“My turn,” Stiles breathed, guiding him over onto his belly and settling behind him. 

He gave silent thanks to the sports gods for the work of art that was Derek’s ass and palmed it with both hands, spreading him. Letting saliva spill into the cleft, he rubbed over his hole with a thumb. Should’ve brought lube, but I’ll make do for now.

“So, um, you don’t have spines do you?” Derek asked, looking over his shoulder. 

Stiles chuckled. “I do actually.” At the wolf’s worried expression he added, “But only in my beta shift and they’re more of a ribbed for her — or his — pleasure thing, like little knobs. Not a ‘painfully raking your insides to stimulate ovulation’ thing.” 

Derek sighed in relief.

“Besides, as much as I want to, I’m not gonna fuck you right now,” he said, adjusting his position. “Don’t want to hurt you…well, just a little. In a good way.” He made the barest motion of paddling and Derek gasped, sticking his ass out. Stiles smiled and shook his head. “How did I get so lucky?”

He ran his hand over those plump cheeks and then spanked them four times in quick succession, alternating sides before caressing them again. Derek grunted and hissed as a harder four landed in a different pattern, which turned to moans as the heated flesh was soothed. Another four came down and then a final unexpected smack across the center a moment later. Lucky number 13.

The sounds Derek continued to make were music to Stiles’s ears as he massaged his tender bottom. He spit into the crease again and then his right palm, stroking himself. His own cock was maybe an inch or so slimmer and longer and he guided it between those lovely, reddened cheeks and plastered himself to Derek’s back, nuzzling at his temple. The fact that they hadn’t healed yet because the wolf didn’t want them to made him harder still.

“Yeah, believe me, I was freaked out myself when I hit puberty and tried to do some reading,” Stiles admitted, picking up their prior conversation. “Spines, what the fuck? I thought I’d either never get laid or get sent to prison.”

They both laughed, the shaking of their stacked bodies doing pleasurable things, and then he threaded their fingers together and began to move. Stiles described exactly how he planned to fuck him next time as he rutted against him. His glans dragged over Derek’s rim on longer thrusts and it made him growl, so close to burying himself within the currently pliant wolf who instinctively tilted his hips and pushed back.

“Mmm…you want it so bad, don’t you, puppy? Hungry to be fucked and filled like a good boy should?” 

Derek’s ears turned pink, but he nodded and whispered “Yes.”

“What was that?” he asked with a wicked grin, stopping and pressing his leaking tip against Derek’s hole.

“Yes, I want you to fuck and fill me!” 

Stiles set his teeth to the nape of Derek’s neck and groaned. 

“That’s my good boy.” He started moving again, changing to shorter, swiveling movements as his pleasure built. “Soon, I promise. And then I’m gonna ride on that pretty, fat cock of yours. Make it all mine. Gonna come on it and cover you in my spunk while I milk you dry. Would you like that, puppy?” 

“Yes, Stiles. Please.”

That fervent plea was enough to tip him over the edge and hot cum flooded between Derek's cheeks, a few spurts reaching his lower back, as he continued to climax. Stiles rested for a few moments when he was done, kissing his lover’s shoulders and then gently squeezing his hands before letting go and easing off. He bit his lower lip at the sight of his handiwork, trailing two fingers through the mess trickling down Derek’s crack and onto his balls.

Circling his hole, Stiles pushed them inside when Derek relaxed and then slid them out to scoop up more up more cum before plunging them in deeper. The wolf whined when he did it again, brushing over that sensitive bundle of nerves. He pumped his fingers a few more times and then stilled with a sigh. There, properly marked.

Stiles gave a last playful bite to that delectable derrière and withdrew, wiping his hand in the grass. Just as he was about to suggest hanging out somewhere else he heard his phone chime in the distance, an alert that meant it was from someone at the store. 

He groaned in annoyance. There was no way in hell he was going in today — he’d lie and say he was out of town if he had to — but maybe they just needed to ask a question or something. Quickly shifting back, Stiles butted heads and then licked Derek’s face with his rough tongue before loping back. 

He was dressed and up in a tree again after telling Jacob how to price the new vampire-themed lava lamps when the black wolf came ambling by a few minutes later, head sweeping from side to side and then falling rather dejectedly. His heart simultaneously ached and rejoiced at the display. He liiikes me, he misses me alreeeady, Stiles sang internally. 

“You gotta start looking up, dude,” he said out loud.

Derek startled and gave him a lupine glare, but by the time he was back on two legs a grin was winning out.

“You’re still here.”

“Duh,” Stiles scoffed, dropping his concealment and climbing down to drape his arms around him. Derek pressed him against the trunk, diving into his neck and inhaling deeply. His mouth soon followed, leaving bruises that Stiles would do his best to keep. Properly marked, he thought, grinning.

He was purring when Derek took a step back and looked at him like he was something special. 

“So I never did finish that movie…what with the coming in my pants and deciding to go home rather than back inside to be mocked by my entire family.“ Stiles preened smugly. “Well, mocked more. Wanna see it again with me?”

“Sure.” 

There were definitely parts he’d missed even after returning to his showing. It was one of those movies where you really had to pay attention to the details to fully understand what was going on and he was quite distracted. Of course, there was also a non-zero chance that they’d get especially distracted again, but if so they’d just have to keep going until they saw it all. Stiles took Derek’s outstretched hand and walked with him into Hale territory. 

“But let’s go to a different theater this time. No mall on my day off.” 

“As you wish-pspspsps,” Derek proclaimed with an exaggerated bow.

Stiles pushed him over and skipped out of the way of his counter lunge.

“I’m too quick for you, Balto.”

“Bet I can reach the house before you do, Puss in Vans.”

Stiles cackled. Damn, direct hit. He wasn't wearing them now, but did in fact have multiple pairs of the skateboarding shoes.

“Well, these are your woods, but fine. Point me in the right direction and if I win, I get to drive your Camaro, Benji.”

Derek snorted and directed him to a trail heading NE. “Not gonna happen, but sure. And if I win?”

“You get to fuck me first.”

It’s not his fault that Derek was still processing those words when he ran off. 

For the second time that afternoon Stiles laughed while the wolf chased after him, though in their human forms the outcome would be more uncertain this time. He might excel at sprinting, but his long legs could go for miles.

And no matter who came in first, he was going to win either way.

*Lynx!

#hi! #I finished a thing! #throws down smut and disappears back into the ether #sterek #sterek fanfic #s&s super blue moon #sbm13 #sbmblackcherry #sbm? #sbmspecial #sbmsummer #trisk #sbm trisk

[queersatanic]

The Satanic Temple’s owner Cevin Soling really hates public schools

Newly discovered passages from 2014’s “The Student Resistance Handbook” by Satanic Temple co-owner Cevin “Malcolm Jarry” Soling show that using “After School Satan” clubs to disrupt education isn’t a bug or a side effect of them; it’s the whole point.

Religious Accommodations

A religious belief must be sincerely held and “must occupy the same place in life of the [believer] as [would] orthodox belief in God.” In other words, so long as you sincerely believe something and that belief represents a significant part of your outlook, it can be deemed a religious belief under the law. This means you can create your own religion, or announce that you are part of a religious organization that supports individual autonomy and sovereignty such as Satanism. The benefits depend on what state you live in. Schools are designed not to treat people as individuals. The more students engage in asserting their individual religious beliefs and demand appropriate concessions, the harder it is for schools to operate.

Holidays

Some states that have enacted various forms of the Religious Freedom Restoration Act (RFRA) permit certain rights under the banner of religious freedom. For instance, in Texas students are excused from school to observe religious holy days. If you are a Satanist and live in Texas, you can insist on taking Halloween off. Obviously, you want to exploit this judiciously, but just doing this once will upset and disturb the administration because it invites others to do the same.

Hair Length and Dress Code

Religious exemptions can be requested to avoid having to adhere to school requirements for hair length and school uniforms. Be aware that this could involve being transferred to a campus that does not have these requirements.

Page 65 of “The Student Resistance Handbook” by Cevin Soling (2014)

Religious Symbols

Religious symbols are permitted and wearing a Satanic pentagram and other forms of Satanic jewelry is legally protected even though many school districts inappropriately ban such apparel.

Curriculum

In some states, you may be permitted to not attend classes or participate in activities that conflict with your religious beliefs by providing a written statement to your teacher that states a conflict exists. Remember, religious beliefs do not have to be rational or even self-consistent—just deeply held convictions. Please note that you cannot be exempt from an entire semester and you cannot be exempt from graduation requirements including those for advancing from one grade to another.

Page 66 of “The Student Resistance Handbook” by Cevin Soling (2014)

Form a Club

In most schools, students have great leeway in forming clubs of their choosing. Form a club that will likely offend the faculty. Some suggestions:

• Club for the Practice of Witchcraft and Dark Arts

• Club for the Worshipers of Satan

• Banned Book Club

• Advanced Studies in Contemporary Pornography Club

• End Compulsory Schooling Club

• Students for a Lower Drinking Age Club

• Students for the Legalization of Heroin Club

• Students for a Sensible School Budget by Lowering Faculty Wages Club

• Death Metal and Gangsta Rap Appreciation Club

Page 70 of “The Student Resistance Handbook” by Cevin Soling (2014)

Moreover, we’re still being sued by The Satanic Temple in federal court and now King County Superior Court.

TST is also still suing Newsweek and its reporter (but maybe not her anymore!) for writing about us. In addition, the Temple is now suing a TikToker in Texas for talking about our case. Check the pinned post for more.

#the satanic temple #after school satan club #Cevin Soling #Malcolm Jarry #Cevin Soling really hates public schools #satanic temple #Satanism #public schools

[financeprincess]

What are your favorite stores to get timeless pieces? I recently graduated college and I feel like my wardrobe is not matching my age!

(I hope this does not come off as rude but pls don't say thrifting bc I am in desperate need of new clothes asap ahah)

I totally understand, I’m in the middle of doing basically a complete overhaul. I’d say start with Banana Republic, Express, Abercrombie, Everlane, Reformation, Madewell, Ralph Lauren, Zara, J. Crew, Aritzia, Levi’s for jeans. Calvin Klein for underwear, t shirts. I lowkey love American Eagle & Aerie too even though it’s somewhat of a younger oriented brand. H&M gets a lot of heat for bad labor practices, low quality, etc. but I’ve had a few items from H&M that I still wear from years ago and it’s super cheap. White House Black Market has beautiful dresses. Also you can get a lot of this stuff at outlets or on sale or at places like Nordstrom Rack, TJMaxx, etc. I wish American Apparel was still more of a thing (rip) because their cotton basics were the best and I still wear a few neutral basics from them from literally early high school. I also like Pact for organic cotton basics.

For classy rich girl activewear I go for Lululemon, Alo Yoga, North Face, Patagonia, LL Bean, Eddie Bauer, Nike, Columbia. Loungewear/casual wear I love Aerie, Free People, and Anthropologie. Carhartt is kind of having a moment too and I have a few of their winter accessories like their beanies.

I know you said “don’t talk about thrifting” but thrifting is awesome. If you go to the rich neighborhoods in your area and go to the nearest thrift stores you can find gems. I’ve literally found authentic designer brands and cashmere sweaters at goodwill so if you’re down for the hunt it can be very rewarding.

[verysmolnerd]

The mysterious medallion

Ares x reader

(Based off a dream that I had)

(Lmfao my first impression of Ares was him decking Diana in the face. So I’ll put the gif here too)

You hold up a medallion with uncertainty. Some stranger pushed it in your hands and walked away without a trace. It’s made of solid gold too, the ribbon on it had to be made with the finest silk too. The design on it is unheard to you… it’s essentially priceless.

What do you do with it precisely? Well, you slide it into your pocket and go about the rest of the convention. It’s one where inventions of all kinds come and present. You’ve been looking forward to see the one coming from Octavius industries.

You socialize, talking about your first few years wearing a lab coat. You’re relived that your predecessors are far kinder than you expected, that they had set their egos aside in order to aid in hurting the next generation of bright minds.

You ended up sticking with a group of college grads, talking about the scientific industry bits and bobs. What to do after getting that doctorate, dissertation strategies, etc.

“I never got to ask, what school do you lot come from?” They seemed very eager to answer, but all had the same answer, “M.I.T.” You gave them a muted applause, to which they bowed slightly and snickered.

“What college did you come from? You’re a chemist, right?” You nodded, “Yes! And I graduated from Harvard. That full ride made it easy, that’s for sure.” That gained you some silence applause, to which you mimicked the bow that they did moments ago.

“Now how are-“ whatever you were going to say was cut off with a hiss. You felt something heat up in your pockets that it was borderline about to burn you. You his and pull out the medallion, holding it exclusively by the ribbon. It’s practically glowing and heat is radiating off it.

There’s a moment of shocked silence between you and your new friends. Until one stepped forward and their fingers ghosted the burning metal, “That’s…. That’s the symbol of a god.” You eyes widened, “What?!”

“You heard me,” they said, continuing their observation, “There was a way for gods to pick their favorite mortal, and they did that by sending some sort of wealthy apparel.” You weren’t sure what to make of it.

“What god do you think sent me this?” You ask and they furrow their brows, looking at every single detail in it. Their face went dark, “Ares.” You felt like gagging, your stomach felt uneasy and your legs felt weak…. But that doesn’t mean the gods are real! Right?

Someone came running into the convention hall, “There’s a bunch of people on Greek getup and they’re attacking the center!!!” You panicked and decided to throw the medallion under a table. You then whip around to retrieve your friends.

Just because the entire room is full of the smartest individuals in the world does not mean that they are wise. They lack in athletics and street smarts, both of which you’re fairly versed in.

You waved them over snd started running for the emergency exit. Only for the door to burst wide opens and a bunch of Greek solders to come pouring in. A bunch had taken prisoners to a lot of the scientists. It’s a little ironic that a lot do them make powerful weapons and they’re too afraid to use them because of the fragility they’ve developed for them in their mind.

So you grab ahold of a metal pipe, you have a gut feeling that you might have to fight a few soldiers that don’t belong in modern times. You take for the second floor in the center. You stay low when walking on the roof, not wanting to bring any attention to yourself.

You also dial the authorities, knowing full well that others have not because they’re currently being taken out of the convention center. The sheer panic in their eyes makes you turn away. You can’t bear to see them hurt.

However, you did notice that all the solders report to one much larger and mentor muscular, one with hair of white. That must be Ares…. And just looking at him from the back, he could snap you like a twig.

He whipped around and you made eye contact with his cold eyes. You stagger back and he smiles, even from a great distance away, just a mere glance sends you spiraling.

You run back inside, hiding in one of the smallest offices rooms you can find. The center was empty, considering that everyone that occupied the space before was either captured or holding said occupants hostage.

The entire room is silent, with no really other way out than the way you came in. You just hope that the mindless warriors will over look the room you’re hiding in and leave you be. Not to mention, that the authorities should be showing up soon.

Speaking of which, you heard the noises of sirens, and all sorts of unspeakable violence. You shudder, hoping that you can just wait it out. The at everything will pan out in your favor.

However, your hopes were soon shoot dead when the office door was ripped off its hinges and thrown to the side as if it were mere paper. You bite down on your had to suppress a scream and tuck further into your hiding spot.

“Come out now,” Ares said, his voice shook your to your very core, “I can smell your fear.” You choke down any subconscious noise you could make, but he still found you.

His eyes pierced through your entire body and very soul. His smile was sinister and hungry. You find it odd when he kneels down to your level, “You shouldn’t be, mortal. For I have spared you.”

You opened your mouth but no words came out and he only laughed, “I sent my medallion to you, we are bound to be wed.” You rear your head back, appalled, “We?” He smirked, “Indeed. I will give you what no mortal man can be capable of doing.”

He leans in, his breath ghosting your lips, “Make you a god.” Your heart stopped beating, you’re surprised the constant state of shock you’ve been in hasn’t made you queasy. “You can’t tell me that I don’t intrigue you. If it makes you feel better, I find you absolutely fascinating.”

That’s the thing, being a point of interest to any god is not good. It never ends well for any human stuck under their blazing gazes. And you? You are cornered like a wild animal and the hunter deduced to pamper you, put you on display for all those unfortunate enough to cross his path.

You were so caught up in your mind that you helped when he picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder. All you could do was appear puzzled as he declares you to be his newly beloved… in front of a bunch of alders and scientists.

He takes off with you, holding on tight in… specific areas. “We will marry at the gates of Olympus, to which you watch me slaughter my father and take his throne!”

Who knows what’s going to happen to you? You’re certainly stumped.

#fanfic #fanfiction #ares #wonder woman #wonder woman (2009) #ares (2009) #ares x reader #drabbles

[unrequitedloveletter]

my heart is yours- this is the general fluff prompt! I am looking for spooky fluff/fluff set in autumn that just carries with it the cozy feeling that picks up as autumn starts and the weather cools down. I will accept anything for this including prompts from the prompt lists which are located on my pinned post! Anything that is remotely fluffy goes here lol

pin x reader where r takes out alll her warm clothes for the season out of storage and is all excited and pin walks into the room and it's like a tornado came in cause there are sweaters and jackets and long sleaves all in brown and orange shades. and he just stands there like "what.. happened?"

Thief- Pin Hawthorne x fem! reader

Hi!! This one was a blast to write and it got me feeling that warm cozy autumn feeling (which I haven't really felt as we are still in consistent sun and temps above fifteen degrees Celsius where I am lol) so writing it was amazing and thank you for sending this in!

Fic type- fluff

Warnings- none

Every year come the last weekend of September or the first day of October, you had a bit of a ritual. It had started in high school and it was no different in the months after you'd graduated, living in a new-ish flat on the island and doing asynchronous online learning while going to classes in person on the mainland part time.

Pursuing your degree of choice could not stop the ritual that was the final weekend of September or the first of October, even if the fact that you'd moved away from home meant you were digging the clothes out of boxes long forgotten rather than the random nooks and crannies of your closet and drawers.

Your ritual was simple--you'd grab all of your autumn inventory and take it out of the storage you'd contained it to. You'd run it through the washer and the dryer and then sort through the chaos you'd unleashed the following day.

The first of October, Pin had swung by your apartment with the intention of surprising you with tea and your favorite pastry. He'd used the key you kept under the potted plant outside your front door and replaced it before walking in, finding you amidst a tornado of clothes in your bedroom.

Pin looked on confused for what felt like a solid thirty seconds before meeting your gaze.

"What happened here?" Pin asked, eyebrows slightly furrowed. It was like autumn had exploded but the explosion had been contained to the walls of your bedroom, a flurry of burnt oranges and dark and warm browns creating something of a mess in every corner.

"I dug my warmer stuff out of storage," you said, looking up at him for a minute. "You brought tea? I didn't expect you today but that is really sweet, Pin."

"It was meant to be a surprise," Pin shrugged, carefully stepping through the clothes until he found a spot next to you on your bed. "I always wondered how you went from one aesthetic to the next whenever you'd show up for work in a cozy jumper and decent pair of brown khakis."

You laughed, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, still buzzing with the excitement that always came with the act of dragging your autumn apparel out of storage.

Pin squinted as he noticed a brown Carhartt jacket that'd gone missing from his wardrobe the year previous. He recalled lending it to you on a particularly cold autumn day and then just...never seeing it again.

"Thief," he whispered, pressing his cheek against the top of your head.

Your hand found his, taking it and interlacing your fingers. You hummed, knowing what he was referencing as your eyes closed.

"Yeah," you whispered. "In my defense, it smelled like you. It's lost it's scent, though, so you can take it back."

Pin laughed, and the two of you were oh-so content in that moment. Neither of you hoped it would ever end.

#pin hawthorne #pin hawthorne x reader #free rein

[scrollofthoth]

PREORDER NOW - SHIPPING THE WEEK OF 4/1

Instrumental in helping the US win the space race, Jack Parsons, a self-taught chemist who never graduated college, was one of the founders of JPL (Jet Propulsion Laboratory) and created the fuel that would send men to the moon. He also happened to be a magician - not the rabbits and cards kind.

Jack summoned the Greek god Pan before every test flight. He held bohemian parties at his mansion in Pasadena, where guests participated in rituals by the infamous Aleister Crowley, once called the wickedest man in the world.

Show your appreciation of this True American Space Wizard with the new shirt in Silky Screen’s Occulture line of apparel.

We also have a few of our Babalon-Barbie shirts left in medium and small. https://silkyscreens.net/products/limited-edition-pink-babalon-t-shirt

#thelema #jack parsons #silky screens #magick #occult #babalon

[pcril]

* ◟ : 〔 JOHN DAVID WASHINGTON , CIS MAN + HE /HIM 〕 PIERCE MULLINS, some say you’re a THIRTY-NINE YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both INSIGHTFUL and SYMPATHETIC, one can’t help but think of THEM CHANGES by THUNDERCAT when you walk by. are you still a SOLDIER / PHYSICAL THERAPIST at THE TERRORS, even with your reputation as the THE BASILISK? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and BLINDLY FOLLOWING ONE'S CHOSEN BEACON, MEMORIES AKIN TO A TALL SMOKESTACK BLEEDING OUT GHOSTS, TIRED OF SUFFERING BUT NOT KNOWING WHO ONE IS WITHOUT IT, although we can’t help but think of PATROCLUS (VARIOUS MYTH RETELLINGS), ALUCARD (CASTLEVANIA), AKIRA (JOHN WICK 4) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

ENTER THE BASILISK.

The tumultuous downpour's all white noise at this point. It's one of the few things that remain steady. Unchanged. If only it's as cleansing as the poets say. Routine continues to be a challenge you're not completely familiar with just yet. But you still try, little by little. Deal with the moments of paralysis in a better, though still difficult, way. Blend in with society where it smells less of dust coated cordite and more of vibrancy.

PUBLICLY KNOWN FACTS:

Name: Pierce Mullins

Appearance: One word summary — inconspicuous. From apparel to expression, Pierce keeps himself to the more minimalistic side. Nothing too loud or in-your-face with his speech or mannerisms. Simply cordial, calm, mostly collected. Tends to dress in a more monochromatic scale. Says he's not allergic to color, but they often exhaust his eyes.

The concept of family ( of a healthy, functioning one ) had never taken root early on in his childhood. A loving yet ill mother and an expectant but rage triggered father lined everything in eggshells at home. As influential and powerful as his father was, he wanted Pierce to be nothing less than of the same standing. Like-minded in greed and politics, never wavering despite the circumstances, charming enough to weave his way into the right field, and obedient. Always obedient.

An accident reaped the life of a peer – seemingly by his own hands. Truthfully, the details of it had morphed into a conglomerated mess, and only the raw emotions stuck out crystal clear. Horror, guilt, and shame. And instead of being fought for, of being offered compassion or even a shred of love, all he was met with was disdain from his own father.

Pierce became a stain on the family name. Single-handedly ruined that hard earned reputation.

The case built against him fell through the cracks with what little evidence there was. Nothing outstanding or suspicious had been found in regards to the deceased. Yet even then, he’d been cast from his parents. Word of mouth travels fast, quicker than wildfire but just as life devastating. So, he was sent away. Told to live with an old family friend that had shown the smallest scrap of sympathy for the boy. Other than a letter or text from his mother once every few blue moons, Pierce was fully estranged from then on out.

High school hardly held any glitz or glamor. Hormones were horrible, rumors that lacked truths festered, and he still hadn’t found a solid connection at ‘home’. Friends were few and far between – a measly handful that he always held at arm’s length; still too plagued by the deeds of recent past. And yet, as the fates would have it, he still managed to find some semblance of a best friend within another.

Graduation couldn’t have happened sooner – even if his plans past school fell rather short. With no family to help, no concrete passion for any career path, he let himself get swallowed by recruitment. At least then he could tread along with the only person that seemed to give a damn about him. The only pillar of light in the midst of ever creeping darkness.

The years spent in the military blurred with one another. Body and spirit were broken, reformed, enhanced – made his strength concrete and wits razor-sharp. Through all trials and tribulations, he stayed consistent by his best friend's side. There to support him, to be supported himself, until everything was severed in one fell swoop.

Instinct had him cover his partner under fire, and it resulted in two gunshots to the abdomen. Not one, but two surgeries were required – both of which came horrendously close to the line of fatality. Yet somehow, by some miracle, Pierce managed to fully stabilize after a long while. By the time he woke and began to gather his bearings, his worst fear had taken wind. His partner hadn’t been safe and well, but rather the opposite with a medical emergency himself. Thankfully, the both of them survived the horrors of war. Scarred both of skin and mind, but very much alive.

Once healed enough, Pierce was medically discharge from service; once again left at the whims of the future’s unknowing. But not all was lost in the gloom. His partner was still there, ready to help shoulder the torment and work through acclimation back into society. Except.. the latter never really happened. The trauma echoed far too loudly, too persistently, to settle into a regular nine to five. Not to mention that their financial needs were more than just tight.

WHAT'S BURIED UNDERNEATH .

HISTORY BEING WRITTEN .

The solution to restlessness and shortage of money alike was presented in the form of a call. An acquaintance of years past caught wind of their unemployment and offered them a job. At first it was supposed to be a one time thing. But one became two, two became three, three became four.. Eventually it became obvious that neither of them had the strength to walk away. Working in a gritty, uniform order was the oil that kept his body’s machine running. So he stayed. Fully integrated into The Terrors. Pierce's loyalty continues to through – even if he carries additional stress from a more recent part time gig.

#lawlessintro #pierce mullins — dialogue . #pierce mullins — inspo . #tw death

[clandestinegardenias]

You want a KinnPorsche University AU, you say? But you’re tired of BL’s where the focus is on university students? 

What would you say to a University AU in which all the KP characters are professors and graduate students? Say, in a Criminology Department (except Tankhun who is in Apparel Design and Textiles and Kim who’s in Music)? 

We could start with, ohhhh I don’t know, a fic where Chan is a postdoc crushed under the weight of his self-imposed rigorous work ethic and lack of work-life balance, and Big is the brilliant, devastatingly gorgeous grad student desperate for recognition and validation? 

Wait, you’re not really on the Chan/Big train (yet)? LET ME SHARE SOME OF THE FUCKING AMAZING COMMENTS I HAVE RECEIVED ON THIS FIC SO FAR:

“Broooo. Bro. YES!!! I don't think I've read any Chan/Big before, but this just worked so well. I love Chan being steady and dependable but also having this kind of fire at his core, and Big being brilliant and needing praise and validation so badly just fits.”

“the D/s undertones oh my fucking god.”

“how you weave in details and the other characters also makes this au so perfectly real? and the glimpses of KP and VP are TANTALIZING.”

“It's not particularly fair that something so unhinged was that hot”

Anyway stream Student Paper Award because I’m so fucking proud of it and I’m going to get more people on the Chan/Big agenda if it kills me. 

(also special thanks to @yeetlegay and @stormyoceans and @likeabook for indulging my ridiculous DM’s and inspiring many of the juicy details of this AU)

#kinnporsche #ChanBig #my fic #kinnporsche fic #y'all don't even understand this fic is so close to my heart #and I'm so amped about this universe the KinnPorsche and VegasPete are gonna be off the rails #this is both my love letter and my evisceration of grad school and being a postdoc and being a professor and academia in general #the loneliness and the excessive self-denial and the hero worship and the depression and the questionable morals and the ecstacy #KP University AU

[inngreedmaw]

Guest: Joshua the Giant Mage

Name: Joshua Deepcrag

Vore Role: Pred leaning

Backstory: A half-giant mage who recently graduated from the mage academy. Is currently trying to study his ancestry as well as rune spells

Class: Mage

Age: early 20s

Current Bodyshape: Extremely pear shaped and belly heavy with vast hips and ass, and a gut that sticks out a couple feet out in front of him, Has a noticeable pair of fatty moobs

Race: Half-Giant

Skin Color: Tan

Current Color and Hairstyle: Lengthy curvy red hair that reaches just past his shoulders.

Current Breast Size: B-cups

Current Ass Size: 60 inches across each flabby cheek

Current Crotch: A 30 inch cock that’s 10 inches wide with wrinkled nuts that span roughly 12 inches across each

Current Height: 8'2

Current Weight Roughly 650lbs

Personality: Casual, curious, eager to learn, experiment, and explore, can be a bit oblivious at times.

Usual Apparel: Dark red robes, tunic, and leggings.

Abilities/Powers-

Half-Giant Physiology

Runic Magic

Advanced earth and fire magic

Items of Note-

Flask of Magic Ink: Magic ink used to make spell circles, mostly used for ritual magic when the user doesn't need to make a spell circle out of mana but can also be used for runes

Bodychange and Rune Spellbook: A book of spells that revolve around changing the body or adding different effects to it via runes

Iron Staff

#The Giant Mage #checking out #Adventurer Listing

[sunb0rn]

fun fact:

ex ng kuya/pinsan ko si ate Acel, yung orig vocalist ng Moonstar88. yes. sila ni kuya nung "Torete" days. repost ni kuya yung ss sa left.

core memory sa akin na sya yung GF ni kuya na kasama nya sa college graduation. tska yung twing may tv guesting yung band super proud kaming mag pipinsan and our lola HAHAHA

so ang cool/funny ng photo na 'to- Ms. Acel with Elegee Custom Guitars owner na nakausot ng Malachi, na skate apparel brand ng kuya ko. ahhkk? coincidence?? hahaha.

promote ko na din- follow Malachi Beyond Skateboarding on IG and FB!

#repost ko to pag makuha ko link hina na ng net ko load lang nang load sa platforms

[thrillhoues]

Ask game - 7, 15, and 16 please

7 - A lot of neutral colors, but especially navy blue (which I pair with one louder color to balance it out)

15 - I do have houseplants but not too many. I'm not super responsible, and I own a cat, so the plants need to be resilient to me not always watering them lol

16 - I've had the same American Apparel light burgundy hoodie in my closet since 2007, no joke. It's been with me so long the caps on the string have fallen off, I've had to sew the sleeve up a bit, it no longer zips up anymore, and I accidentally burned off a little bit of the hood by putting it too close to a candle. It's been with me long enough to graduate grade school

#ask game