#I also love the power fantasy of... not needing glasses

[baggebythesea]

[derekhighwaytf]

Witches and Twinks

MONDAY

The small London restaurant’s dim light flickered against the wine glasses, casting soft Merlot shadows onto George and Adam’s lips, noses, the entirety of their smug, helpless faces. This should have been the perfect pairing.  They were both intellects, with high senses of self and a love for information (ie. control), and though they’d talked for nearly an hour at this point, the conversation felt more like a fencing match than the start of a beautiful new friendship—each word a parry, each retort a thrust. Adam, dressed in his sweater and khakis, leaned back in his chair with a faint smile, his tone sharp but measured for every measure George tried to fling upon him.

“As much as people romanticize magic or ‘karma,’ it’s all just bullish storytelling,” Adam said, swirling the last of his drink. “Yes, Shakespeare and Marlowe write about it, but even they understood that human intellect, not divine intervention, drives our fate. Julius Caesar—perfect example. ‘The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.’ The real power lies in reason and intellect.”

George, dressed more casually in his loose-fitting green shirt, met Adam’s judgey gaze with a bewitchingly bemused smile. “Shakespeare also believed in the supernatural,” he countered. “The witches in Macbeth didn’t rely on logic to mess with the characters. Magic, fate, karma—call it what you may, but it holds an inexplicable force over more than just imagination. You’d be surprised how much control you don’t have.”

Adam chuckled, leaning forward slightly, his confidence more than bordering on just arrogance. “Macbeth? The witches merely represent internal fears and ambition every man or woman has in themselves. You can interpret them as mystical, inexplicable forces if you must, but at the end of the day, it’s Lady Macbeth’s persuasion and greed that destroy her husband. Shakespeare knew that intellect was the ultimate weapon. Magic? That’s just an excuse for weak minds like yourself who can’t handle the complexity of the human condition.”

George’s smile twitched as if he found the power not to turn Adam into the jackass he’d been acting like right then and there. “You academics, always trying to boil everything down to logic. I think you’re missing the point of the supernatural entirely. It’s not always about intellect. There are forces beyond understanding, beyond your understanding,—forces that aren’t impressed by your degrees or how many times you’ve read Troilus and Cressida.”

“An underrated work, if I say so myself.”  Adam’s smirk deepened. “And yes, the mysterious ‘forces beyond understanding.’ Tell me, how do they rank next to a Ph.D. in Shakespeare? I’d be curious to know.”

George tilted his head and took a swig of his drink, his gaze softening in a way that made Adam’s need to seek scholarly validation seem hollow. “You think Shakespeare would’ve agreed with you?”

“I know he would’ve,” Adam replied, superiority painting his tone. “The entire premise of his greatest works is that humanity’s biggest downfall is ignorance, not the supernatural. He’d side with intellect.”

“Or maybe he’d side with me.” George leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “You don’t think Shakespeare had a little magic in him? Maybe even enough to change a man forever?”

Adam’s smile faltered slightly, a small crack in his polished confidence. “What are you getting at?”

George’s just giggled, something dark and knowing flashing behind them. “I’m saying that not everything in this world is logical, Adam. You’re sitting here, lecturing me about Shakespeare, as if your intellect puts you above magic or fate. But I could change your entire world with just a flick of my hand, and all that book knowledge would evaporate into thin air.”

Adam’s gulped, unsure whether to get up and run or call the waiter. “Magic doesn’t exist,” he scoffed. “This isn’t some fantasy. It’s reality. You want to impress me? Show me something real.”

Without hesitation, George raised his hand, a scarred palm outstretched, and without breaking eye contact, he waved it through the suddenly thickened air with an inexplicable grace. The motion was so sudden, almost imperceptible, but Adam’s reaction was immediate. His breath hitched, his confident posture writhing and wilting as his widened eyes fluttered in confusion. The polished veneer of intellectual superiority melted away as something unfamiliar and overpowering gripped him.

Suddenly, Adam found himself folded over the table, unable to look away from George. The irritation he’d felt moments before evaporated, replaced by a deep, floundering passion—something that made his heart race and his chest tighten. His thoughts scrambled, no longer sharp and clear but clouded, fogged by an overwhelming sense of need.

“I…” Adam stammered, his voice cracking slightly. “I don’t understand… what were we—?”

George shushed him, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction. “You’re not supposed to understand, love. That’s the point.”

Adam’s breath grew shallow, his pulse quickening as his gaze locked onto George, unable to break away. His mind, usually so sharp and critical, was a jumbled mess of scrambled eggs. Everything he knew, everything he prided himself on, suddenly felt distant, irrelevant. All that mattered now was George—his voice, his presence, his timeless beauty.  George was Adam’s everything now.

“You’re…” Adam’s words trailed off as his hand reached across the table, trembling. “You’re the most incredible man I’ve ever met.”  He swallowed his own tongue, choking on his own breath.  “Will you marry me?”

George’s smile widened, a quiet, knowing victory in his eyes. He leaned back, looking under the table, watching as Adam’s brain couldn’t catch up to his…heart.

“And just like that,” George whispered, “all your intellect can’t stop what you feel now, can it?”

Adam blinked, his face flushed with a mix of confusion and something else, something deeper. “No… I… I can’t stop it.” He swallowed hard, his voice small, vulnerable. “I don’t want to.” 

George’s eyes glittered with satisfaction. “Good,” he murmured, his voice smooth as silk. “Now, why don’t we talk about something that really matters back at your place?”

Every part of his intellectual, collected self knew better than to let this menace into his home, but all Adam could do was nod at his newfound love’s commands. And how bad could it be?  All’s well that ends well, right?

Adam fumbled with the keys to his flat, his hands trembling with an erotic urgency he’d never known before. A man of his knowledge and tact would never sleep with a man so quickly, but alas, his once methodical mind, the same one that could cite King Lear on a whim, now reeled only with thoughts of George on his bed—George's lustful eyes, George’s sweet cock, George's very presence seemed to fill every emotional crevice of his being. His usual restraint, his prudent superiority, was gone, replaced by a consuming need to be filled by this cunning, enchanting strange.

They stumbled inside, the door locking shut behind them. “I’ve never…” Adam’s voice cracked, and he shook his head, words failing him. “I don’t know why, but I want you, I need you. Now.”

George’s lips curled into a soft smile, almost pitying. “Not yet, love. You’re tired.”

“No, I—” Adam’s horny existence began to protest, but before he could finish, George raised his hand and with a single flick of the wrist, Adam’s body crashed into a wave of heavy and irresistible drowsiness. His knees buckled slightly, and he stumbled backward onto his bed, the fatigue wrapping itself around him like a thick, suffocating blanket. His eyelids fluttered as the last bit of resistance left him, and in moments, he was fast asleep, still in the preppy clothes that once defined him.

George stepped forward, his eyes brooding as he stood over Adam's sleeping form. His fingers trailed lightly over Adam’s temple, tracing the outline of his brow. “You’ll thank me for this one day,” George murmured, though he knew Adam couldn’t hear. 

With that, George’s expression shifted from amusement to something far more dangerous. He moved to the center of the room, kneeling over, and began reciting words in Old English, his voice low and rhythmic, like a conjurer summoning something deep and ancient.

“This man doth dress in shorts of scanty seam,  

But two inches, nay more, could his cloth bear.  

All trousers, all pants, dare try to redeem,  

Will twist and turn, yet still they'll shorten there.”

As the words slipped out from George’s lips, the change began. Adam’s legs, still clad in his conservative khakis, twitched. The fabric shimmered like glitter, rippling unnaturally, as though it had come alive beneath him. Slowly, the pant legs began to pull and pull, retracting themselves upward inch by inch. The sturdy material warped and shrank, tightening suddenly as it rose. In moments, the khakis had transformed entirely into a pair of short, nay, outrageously short gym shorts—barely two inches of inseam, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

The fabric clung to Adam’s shivering thighs, exposing pale skin that had seemingly never seen the light of day. His knees, his nonexistent calves, everything that had been carefully covered up was now on display, with the hem of the shorts barely reaching the tops of his legs. He lay there, still sleeping, completely oblivious to the transformation.

George’s eyes gleamed as he watched his imagination solidify into reality, their bright, synthetic fabric snug against Adam’s skin. “Much better,” he whispered, stepping closer. But alas, he wasn’t done just yet.

“In tanks of muscled shape, his chest laid bare,  

Neckline to navel, each nipple shall show.  

Armholes so deep, their movement none can spare,  

In every stride, his shirt reveals more woe.”

Another shift rippled through Adam’s sleeping body, this time around his torso. The sweater he’d been wearing—the very picture of propriety—began to distort itself, the fibers unraveling at his collar. The neckline dipped lower, and lower, and lower still, until it stopped just above his flat belly button. The sleeves, too, warped, pulling up and away from his twig-like arms until they were nothing but gaping holes that left his ribcage completely exposed. The fabric thinned as the sleeves disappeared, leaving him in a muscle tank so revealing that his nipples couldn’t help but to peek through with every slight motion.

The soft knit of his sweater had become a thin, athletic material, stretched across his chest and shoulders, barely covering anything. His once modest outfit was now reduced to something shamelessly provocative, his entire upper body on display, his pasty white skin brushing against the air with every breath.

George admired his work, his fingers drumming lightly against his thigh as he took in Adam’s new look. “Perfect,” he murmured. And yet, there was still more to be done.

“In high shoe laced, his socks pulled crisp and white,  

A chain of gold doth glisten 'round his neck,  

Beneath it all, a jock to fit him tight,  

No other cloth for him shall fate select.”

Once again, for the final time tonight, the changes swept through Adam’s cold, lifeless body, this time starting at his feet. His Sperry boat shoes dissolved, giving way to a pair of bright white Nike hi-tops, their thick laces tied into the most perfect bows for the treadmill. The socks that appeared around his ankles pulled up snugly, reaching mid-calf, their crisp whiteness almost blending to the cream of his skin.

Next, the thinnest, most douchiest gold chain materialized itself around his bony neck, resting just above his exposed collarbone. The delicate glint of the necklace caught the light, its subtle flash at odds with the rest of his now athletic ensemble. Finally, the transformation moved beneath his shorts. His boxers melted away, replaced by a tight-fitting jockstrap that cupped him in place, offering minimal coverage and the most maximum exposure, almost as if he were a twink stripper on the Miami shore instead of the next youngest professor at Yale.

George stepped back, admiring his handiwork. Adam, once a picture of scholarly decorum, now lay before him clad in nothing but slutty gym shorts, a muscle tank that exposed far more than Adam would ever desire, hi-top sneakers, a thin gold chain, and the most illuminating jockstrap. It was absurd, provocative—and exactly as George had imagined.

For the final touch, George recited the couplet, his voice soft but firm:

“Forever cursed, his garments shall remain,  

In shorts, in tanks, he'll live his life in vain.”

With those words, the spell was sealed. No matter what Adam touched, no matter how hard he tried, every article of clothing would morph into this same, revealing outfit. George smiled, satisfied, and took a seat in the armchair across from Adam. He watched him for a moment, sleeping so peacefully despite the irreversible change that had just taken place.

But as the night crept on, George allowed himself to sleep too, a smirk still resting on his lips as he lied next to his creation. Tomorrow, when Adam awoke and his spell of infatuation wore off, George knew that’s when the real fun would begin.

TUESDAY

“AHHHH!”  Adam woke up, his heart racing as the morning light shone onto his hungover face. His body felt strange, but his mind was far more disturbed. The events of the previous night seemed fragmented, cloudy—George, the strange pull, the overwhelming desire, none of it made sense. He sat up in his sheets, his eyes darting around the room, his chest heaving.

He looked beside himself and dear God, there he was. George was still asleep, draped casually across the sheets, his face peaceful in the way that seemed entirely at odds with the havoc he’d wreaked. Adam’s stomach turned. I slept with him, Adam thought, his mind spinning like a top. He clenched his fists in the sheets, his face flushed with shame. How had he let this happen? His mind, so methodical and proud, had completely failed him and allowed him to degrade himself for some vampiric twink.

Panic gripped him as he stood from the bed, only to stop mid-step when he realized a breeze he’d never felt before. His legs were bare, his thighs on full display. It was then that he noticed his reflection in the mirror across the room. His mouth fell open in shock. Gone were his conservative khakis and sweater. In their place, he wore nothing but a pair of impossibly short gym shorts, a muscle tank that exposed his chest and nipples, white socks pulled up to his calves, and, what on earth, a jockstrap?  He looked at himself again and thought he looked like a child dressing up in his musclehead uncle’s clothes.

He quickly shuffled to his dresser, desperate to change out of this ridiculous, humiliating outfit before George woke up. He rifled through his drawers and pulled out a pair of khakis and a button-down shirt, but as soon as his fingers touched them, they shimmered and twisted, morphing into the same slutty gym shorts and revealing muscle tank that now clung to his body. Adam's eyes widened in horror. He threw the clothes aside and reached for another pair, only for the same thing to happen. Every single item he touched—his jeans, his sweaters, even a pair of pajamas—all transformed into the same jock-bro ensemble.

“What the fuck?” Adam muttered under his breath, the frustration building. His heart pounded as he rifled through his now everchanging closet, grabbing hangers and tossing clothes aside in a frantic attempt to find something—anything—that wouldn’t transform. But everything he touched met the same fate, shrinking and twisting into the cursed, douchebag outfit.

Behind him, he heard a soft laugh.

George finally awoke, sitting up in bed, arms crossed, a lazy smirk plastered on his face. “Having trouble love?”

Adam spun around, his face flushed with fury. “What the hell is this?” He gestured to his outfit, his voice rising. “What did you do to me?”

George laughed again, softer this time, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “What’s wrong? What happened to the complexity of the human consciousness or whatever bullshit you were spewing last night?”

“Magic?!” Adam’s voice cracked with a mixture of disbelief and anger. “Is that what you’re blaming this on?  You can’t be serious!”

“Oh, but I am, love.”  George stood, casually pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. “Oh, come on. Don’t you like your new look? I think it suits you.” He took a step closer, his smirk growing wider. “And honestly, after all that big talk, I would’ve thought you’d handle a little transformation with more grace.”

Adam clenched his fists, his voice shaking with rage. “This isn’t funny, George! Somehow you’ve made me look like some jock-bro idiot. What the hell am I supposed to do like this? Just tell me what you did!”

But George’s expression darkened. “You still don’t get it, do you?” His voice dropped, the playful tone gone. “You can’t just insult me, mock what I believe, and expect no consequences.” He took another step forward, his brooding eyes locking with Adam’s. “You wanted to prove your intellect was above everything—above magic, above fate. But you’ve proven nothing except how small your mind really is.”

“Small?!” Adam barked. “The only thing small here is you, you psychopathic, egotistical—”

But before Adam could finish, George’s pupils flashed with anger. He raised his hand, the air around him seeming to hum with energy. “Careful what you say next,” George warned. “Or you might not like what comes next.”

Adam’s lips parted, the insult on the tip of his tongue, but he hesitated. His pride warred with his common sense, but he couldn’t stop himself. “You’re nothing but a dumb fucking slut."

Suddenly, quiet filled the room as the words escaped Adam’s quivering lip, but once he got himself collected, George’s voice rang out in outrage, calm, yet oh-so commanding.

“This man shall bear a curse of feet most foul,  

With stench of sweat, his socks shall rot and tear.  

His pits shall reek, his skin a pungent scowl,  

Athlete’s rot shall mar each inch laid bare.”

Adam barely had time to register what George had said before a horrifying sensation crept up from his feet. He looked down, his newly acquired hi-tops feeling unnaturally damp. His socks, once crisp and white, were now soaked with sweat and dirt, clinging to his wretched skin. He wrinkled his nose at the sudden, overwhelming odor that wafted up from his shoes. It was rancid—like rotting toe cheese mixed with mildew and and an ocean’s worth of sweat. His feet itched uncontrollably, the skin burning as if something was crawling beneath it.

At the same time, his armpits began to burn and sting. He reached up instinctively, only to pull his hand back in disgust. His armpits were slick with a salty wetness, and the stench hit him like a punch to the gut—thick, sour, and overwhelming. It was as if he hadn’t showered in weeks, months even. His face flushed with embarrassment as the realization set in: his body reeked. His feet, his armpits—every part of him was drenched in sweat and stench, a walking cloud of filth.

“What the—?” Adam staggered back, staring at George in disbelief. “What did you—?”

But George wasn’t finished. He raised his hand again, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction.

“This man shall itch where modesty once laid,  

His bush shall grow, his groin a scratching hell.  

He’ll fight in vain to stop his hands’ parade,  

As arse and crotch demand his touch as well.”

And just like that, a sharp itch exploded itself across Adam’s groin, so intense that he doubled over in shock. His fingers flew to his waistband, instinctively trying to scratch the burning sensation beneath his jockstrap. The itch was so unbearable, spreading across his groin and into his backside, radiating like fire near his hole. No matter how hard he tried to resist, his hands were drawn to the sensation, scratching furiously, desperate for relief.

But there was none. The more he scratched, the worse it got. His fingers dug into the fabric of his shorts, and soon, he was practically clawing at himself, unable to stop. His face flushed red with embarrassment. The itch was maddening, and it didn’t care about decorum or propriety. Weak, he was scratching himself in front of George, his hands running over his crotch and ass, completely helpless against the overwhelming need for relief.

“Stop this,” Adam gasped, his voice shaking as he continued to scratch. “Please, stop.”

But George only smirked, his voice calm as he began the next quatrain.

“Each hour, his body shall release its gas,  

With burps and farts to shake the very air.  

No matter where he goes, no lad or lass  

Will dare endure the odors he’ll declare.”

Before Adam could breath in, his stomach rumbled violently. His eyes widened in horror as his body took over, an enormous belch ripping from his throat, so loud it echoed through the tiny studio. A second later, a foul-smelling fart exploded from him like a cloud, the stink so pungent it nearly knocked him back. 

“No—” Adam gasped, but his body betrayed him again. Another belch, followed by another fart and another burp, and yet another fart. The stench filled the room, thick and nauseating. His face turned crimson as he stumbled back, his hands flying to his mouth as if he could stop the sounds from escaping, but it was no use. Every few seconds, another belch, another fart, the air around him quickly becoming unbreathable.

George watched, amused, as Adam staggered, his eyes wide with humiliation. He raised his hand one last time, his voice soft and final.

“This man of filth, of shame, of rank decay,  

Shall live apart from grace, in filth to stay.”

With that, George turned toward the door, leaving Adam in the haze of his own stench, his body a twisted caricature of everything he once prided himself on. The smell of his own filth lingered in the air, heavy and oppressive, but it was the itching, the relentless belching, and the horrible farts that kept him anchored to the spot. His whole body was a battlefield of sensations he couldn’t control. His intellect, once his greatest weapon, felt utterly useless now.

He staggered toward the bathroom, desperate to scrub away the grime of his new persona. He turned on the shower, hoping the water would wash away the stench and the shame. But as soon as the water hit his body, it did nothing. The sweat, the reek from his armpits and feet, even the itch in his groin—it was all still there, clinging to him like a second skin.

After multiple futile attempts, he stared at his reflection in the fogged mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, his face flushed from scratching and embarrassment. His once carefully maintained hair was now matted with sweat, and his body, encased in the ridiculous bro-ey outfit, made him look more like a lazy frat boy than a Ph.D. candidate.

Adam threw on a hoodie, hoping it might cover up some of the smell, and pulled the hood over his head, trying to obscure himself. He couldn’t just stay home. He had a meeting with his professor that afternoon—he had to go. He had to maintain some semblance of normalcy, even though nothing about this felt normal.

As he left the apartment, he became acutely aware of the looks he was getting from people on the street. Some wrinkled their noses, others shot him a glance before quickly looking away. His footsteps echoed in his ears, punctuated by the sound of another loud fart escaping him, followed by a huge, gut-shaking belch. The smell followed him like a shadow, and the itch in his groin was impossible to ignore. He scratched absentmindedly, wincing as he did, but the relief only lasted a second before the itch came back with renewed intensity.

The closer he got to campus, the more nervous he became. His body wouldn’t stop betraying him—every few steps, another belch, another fart, another desperate scratch of his groin and butt. He could feel the sweat pooling beneath his shirt, the odor rising with it. He pulled his hood tighter over his head, hoping to disappear into himself, but nothing could hide what was happening to him.

By the time he reached his professor’s office, he was a mess of nerves. He stood outside the door, trying to compose himself. You can do this, he thought, even as his body itched and groaned in protest. But the second he stepped inside, the look on his professor’s face told him everything.

“Adam,” Professor Wilson said, his voice hesitant as he looked up from his desk. His nose wrinkled almost immediately, and Adam saw him discreetly glance toward the window as if considering opening it for fresh air. “Are… are you feeling alright?”

Adam swallowed hard. “I—I’m fine,” he lied, but even as the words left his mouth, another loud belch erupted from his throat, followed by the unmistakable sound of another fart. The air around him was thick with the stench, and he could see the professor’s face go pale with disgust.

Professor Wilson stood abruptly. “Perhaps we should reschedule,” he said, clearly trying to hold back his revulsion. “It seems like you’re not… in the best condition today.”

“I can explain—” Adam started, but even as he spoke, his hands betrayed him again, scratching furiously at his groin and rear, the itch unbearable. He tried to stop, tried to keep himself composed, but his body had other ideas. Another belch, another fart, each more embarrassing than the last. The smell in the room was unbearable, and Professor Wilson’s eyes were wide with a mix of pity and horror.

“Adam, I think it’s best if you go home and take care of… whatever this is,” Professor Wilson said, his voice tight with discomfort. “We’ll discuss your dissertation another time.”

Adam’s face burned with shame as he nodded stiffly, his throat too tight to speak. He turned and left the office, another loud fart escaping him as he hurried down the hallway. The students he passed gave him wide-eyed stares, some covering their noses, others whispering and laughing as he stumbled past them. Each new step felt heavier, the weight of the day pressing down on him, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape the nightmare his life had become.

By the time he could finally make it back to his apartment, he was utterly defeated. His body reeked, the itch in his groin had only gotten worse, and his belly was constantly churning with the pressure of more belches and farts waiting to erupt. He kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow. The day had been a disaster—there was no way he could continue like this.

As the evening settled in, Adam lay there, his mind racing even as his body continued to betray him. He had to find George. He had to fix this. There was no other option.

He couldn’t live like this—he couldn’t endure the stares, the laughter, the humiliation. His career, his entire life, was at stake. With each itch, each stench, each belch and fart, he felt his old self slipping further away, and he was terrified of what he would become if this continued.

With a heavy sigh, Adam closed his eyes. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he would find George and demand that he fix what he’d done. Tomorrow, he would get his life back.

WEDNESDAY

Adam sat desperate against his pillow and his headboard, his phone clutched in his hand, staring down at the screen with a sense of failure. The stench from his armpits, the itching in his groin, the endless belches and farts—everything had become so utterly unbearable. The reflection he caught in the mirror was still that of the cursed gym rat, his outfit vulgar and ridiculous against his scrawny body, the stink so thick it began to cling to the walls of his flat.

He began typing. His fingers trembled slightly as they tapped against the glass, carefully crafting the text to George. His pride screamed against it, but he was out of options. He couldn’t live like this, not anymore.

"Hey George,  

I’ve been thinking a lot…and I just wanted to say how sorry I am. I was so out of line, and I didn’t mean to insult you or dismiss what you believe. I get it now—there are things beyond intellect, beyond control, and…beyond me.  I was wrong, and you were right. There.  I should’ve believed in magic instead of trying to mock it. Please, is there anything I can do to fix this? I don’t want to keep living like this, I just can’t."

He hesitated for a moment before hitting send, his stomach twisting into a knot of hope and dread. Adam tossed the phone onto his bed and laid back, staring at the ceiling as the minutes stretched into hours. Every itch, every foul-smelling fart reminded him of his new reality. He tried to distract himself—cleaning the apartment, watching plays on Youtube, attempting to focus on some new Shakespearean analysis—but nothing worked. The stench hung in the air like a punishment, stuck to him no matter what.

By midday, Adam’s hope had started to wither into nothingness. George wasn’t going to respond. He probably didn’t even care. Maybe this was it—maybe this revolting, humiliating state was his life now. He sighed, dragging his hands through his sweaty hair, glancing toward his phone again. Still nothing. He swallowed the lump in his throat and paced around room, fidgeting with his bro clothes that clung to his now lean body like a cruel joke. 

Bzzzz.

Adam rushed to his phone, his heart thudding against his chest as he unlocked the screen. A message from George appeared, and his breath caught.

“Curses can’t be undone, love.”

Adam’s face flushed with frustration. His jaw clenched as he stared at the words. All of that groveling, all of that begging, and this was the response? He typed furiously, his anger bubbling to the surface, but before he could send anything back, another message appeared.

“But I must admit.  I didn’t think you would actually say that.  Honestly, I really appreciate the apology. Why don’t call it even, huh?  Why don’t I give you a gift?”

Adam blinked at the screen, his anger slowly dissipating into confusion. A gift? What kind of twisted gift could George possibly mean? If it was anything like the last, then he could keep it. But before he could protest, another message filled the screen.

“His arms, like oaks, doth stretch from end to end,  

With strength to lift the world or crush its weight.  

Their power matched with beauty none can fend,  

Two mounds so vast as sunset’s final state.”

As Adam read the words, he felt a sudden warmth spread through his arms. Not again, he thought, but then his eyes darted down in alarm as his previously thin, lanky arms twitched, then bulged. He watched, wide-eyed, as his biceps began to swell, the muscles rippling and bubbling beneath his skin. The skin of his arms grew tight, barely able to contain the massive growth. His once scrawny arms were transforming into huge, muscular limbs—so strong, they looked like they could crush stone with a single flick.

He flexed experimentally, his new muscles hardening themselves like marble. His biceps were enormous, so large they cast a shadow on his bony torso. He stared in disbelief at his own body, feeling an unfamiliar surge of power rush through him.

His phone buzzed again, another text:

“His chest, like breasts of Venus round and great,  

Two orbs of strength that push against the day.  

Each pect’ral it’s own ball upon a beach,  

So full, so firm, none dare to turn away.”

Adam’s gaze shifted down towards his chest, and once again, he felt the same warm, tingling sensation spread across his torso as he began to feel an unnerving top heaviness. His pecs swelled, pushing against the straps of his tank top until the neckline stretched even lower than before. His chest ballooned outward, each pec growing into a massive, rounded mound of muscle, firm and solid beneath his skin. His nipples presented so visibly, his chest now so large it jutted forward, casting a shadow over his barren stomach.

The weight of his new pecs made him feel even more powerful, even more in control. He couldn’t stop staring, watching the way his body filled out, how his once-flat chest had been replaced by two enormous mounds of muscle that jiggled involuntary with every breath. They were so big, so round, they almost looked unnatural—but Adam loved it nonetheless.

Another text…

“His stomach, carved like canyons deep and wide,  

Each groove a trench, each line a valley low.  

His legs, like trunks of ancient oaks abide,  

With strength to stand through storm and sun and snow.”

Adam’s abdomen contracted, the sensation rippling through his core. He watched as the muscles on his stomach began to etch themselves into deep, chiseled grooves. His once-flat belly was now an eight-pack, every ridge and line so pronounced it looked like his abs had been carved out of granite. His waist boxed in, accentuating the sheer mass of his chest above and the powerful definition below.

His legs were next. His thighs bulged beneath his gym shorts, the muscles expanding rapidly, filling out with every second. His calves thickened into pillars of strength, his quads growing into enormous slabs of meat that made his legs look like logs. He was massive now, his entire body transformed into something that looked like it had been sculpted by the god Zeus himself.

The final couplet arrived, and as Adam read the words, he felt the last part of the transformation taking hold:

A man’s man, dominant, in every stride,  

With looks that none, not man nor beast, can hide.”

As Adam gazed into the mirror, his eyes widened in awe. His reflection had changed entirely. He stood there, towering, his body brimming with strength and raw masculinity, as if he’d eaten raw eggs every day of his life since he was ten. His jawline was sharper, his posture more commanding, and the way he looked—it was undeniable. He was an alpha now.  He demanded attention, respect, and desire. The smell, the stink that had once plagued him—it didn’t matter. His overwhelming physicality eclipsed all of it.

Adam grinned, a wave of confidence crashing over him. This was power. This was control. He grabbed a jacket, still feeling the massive stretch of his biceps as he slipped it over his shoulders, and headed out.

At the nearest gay bar, the moment Adam walked in, all eyes were on him. His broad shoulders and massive arms filled out his jacket in ways that left little to the imagination. He could see heads turning, guys sneaking glances at his hulking frame, his thick pecs nearly busting through his shirt. He walked up to the bar, and within seconds, a couple of older men sidled up to him, their eyes wide with interest.

One of them, a trucker looking man with salt-and-pepper hair and the crustiest mustache, leaned in, his voice low. “You’re looking good, boy. Smell like man too.  Why don’t you let me buy you a drink?”

Adam wrinkled his nose slightly. The man was old, rotund, and ugly.  He could do better, much better. “No thanks, ..sir,” Adam replied coldly, his voice deeper and more commanding than he remembered. The man’s face fell slightly, but Adam didn’t care. He was too busy reveling in the attention, in the way every guy in the bar seemed to be watching him, wanting his body.

As the night wore on, more and more guys approached, trying their luck with him. But none of them were good enough for Adam. He was an alpha now—he could have anyone he wanted, and the more he held out, the more they wanted.

And tomorrow? Tomorrow, he would go see George again.  If George can do this for him.  There’s no telling what else he could get out of the witchy twink.

THURSDAY

Adam took the tube immediately once he awoke and stood in front of George’s door, the weight of his muscular new form making him feel absolutely invincible. His inflated biceps and thick chest on the reflective glass of the door fed his ever growing ego, but deep down, he couldn’t help but shake this nagging doubt. George had done this to him—made him into a walking Marvel superhero, sculpted from stone, pure lust, and raw, unadulterated power. But was it enough? No, Adam wanted more. Needed more.

He knocked, his hairy knuckles bristling past the door handle. The first time he’d sought George, he’d dismissed the supernatural as nonsense. Now, with the power of George’s magic coursing through his sculpted body, Adam was ready to claim yet another piece of it. But this time, he knew he had to play his cards just a tad bit differently.

The door creaked open, and there stood George, his face shifting from surprise to a soft, almost suspicious smile. “Adam,” George purred. “Back so soon?”

Adam leaned against the doorframe, his massive arms bulging as he flexed them just enough to show off the strength George had given him. “Missed me?”

George raised an eyebrow, but his gaze lingered on Adam’s tits, those enormous pecs straining against the thin straps of his bro-ish muscle tank. There was a flicker of something in George’s eyes—desire, interest, maybe even a sliver of actual emotion, something he hadn’t felt in centuries. Adam noticed, and he played into it, taking a step closer, his voice low and smooth.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Adam said, his hand grazing George’s arm. “About I’ve been thinking about just how much I owe you for this body, for… everything.”

George tilted his head, still guarded. “And what exactly do you want this time, Adam?”

“I don’t want anything,” Adam replied, his lips curling into a seductive smile. “Just you.”

He moved closer, his muscular frame dwarfing George’s, his presence overwhelming in the cramped air of the doorway. George hesitated for a moment, but Adam’s hand slipped to the nape of George’s neck, pulling him in with surprising gentleness. Their lips met, slowly melding together, turning into something hotter, far more dangerous. Adam’s thinly veiled cock rubbed against George’s abs as his walls came crumbling down, and for the first time, Adam felt the subtle shift in power—he had George, really had him.

The day blurred into heated moments, their bodies tangled in sheets and sweat. Adam was relentless, his new body a weapon of seduction, and George, for all his magic, succumbed to the raw physicality of it. They moved together with an intensity that neither had expected, sucking, fucking, and by the time they lay spent, George was quiet, staring at Adam with something akin to affection.

Adam, however, was already thinking ahead. He turned to George, still catching his breath. “You’ve got power, George. Magic.”

George giggled with a flush.  “You’re just saying that.”

But Adam turned cold.  “I want more of it.”

George’s face darkened. “What exactly are you asking for, Adam?”

Adam grinned, his arrogance returning now that the heat of the moment had passed. “Whatever gift you think I deserve. You’ve given me all this, how can I doubt your judgment, my sweet baby.  My love.  I’ll leave it up to you. Surprise me.”

George’s expression shifted from curiosity to something more guarded, his eyes narrowing as he watched Adam’s smug face. “Anything I want, huh?”

Adam shrugged, confidence oozing from every pore. “I trust you.”

George sat up, his fingers trailing along Adam’s broad chest as if considering his next move. For a long moment, he said nothing, then with a quiet, deceptive murmur, he recited:

"A man so well endowed, his length shall grow,  

Eight inches, thick as snake in fabric’s cage,  

His buttocks firm, a perch for all to show,  

A bubble round to seat him firm with age."

Adam’s goosebumped body tingled immediately, the familiar warmth of transformation spreading through his lower regions. He let out a low, grunty moan as the sensation deepened, his cock thickening and lengthening under his teeny tiny shorts. Diameter growing as his ass tightened, the muscles swelling into perfect, round bubbles that pushed him slightly upward in the bed. He grinned, looking down at himself, clearly satisfied with George’s work.

“That’s more like it,” Adam murmured, his hands roaming over his newly enhanced assets. The heft of his cock felt incredible, and his ass, firm and plump, made him sit taller, more confidently. “I can’t wait to use this out in SoHo.”  He turned to George, expecting more praise, more lust, but George’s face remained unreadable.

Then, George’s voice darkened, and he continued the sonnet.

"But this thick snake shall rise and never fall,  

In constant stand, no peace, no quiet still.  

His rounded arse shall breathe and stretch at call,  

Each muscle loose, no seat can meet its will."

Adam’s smile faltered, confusion flickering in his eyes. The change happened so quickly—his cock, now a monstrous length, hardened immediately, pushing insistently against the fabric of his gym shorts. It throbbed, always erect, always at attention, with no sense of relief. He shifted uncomfortably as his ass, once firm and perfect, started to feel strangely loose towards the center. It twitched and clenched on its own, the muscles stretching and relaxing without his control, as if it was becoming an underground tunnel.

“Wait, what the—?” Adam stammered, sitting up, his hand moving to adjust his cock, but it wouldn’t soften. His asshole kept opening with a subtle, almost breathing sensation that made him feel unstable, as if he could fit a tube station in there.

George smirked, watching the realization dawn on Adam’s face. “Not quite what you expected, is it?”

Adam’s panic grew as he tried to stand, but the constant, unrelenting erection made every step uncomfortable. His ass moved with a will of its own, making it impossible for him to walk without awkwardly adjusting himself.

“Stop this,” Adam demanded, his voice sharp with fear. “Fix it!”

But George continued, his voice soft, but with a cutting edge:

"For every man he sees and thinks of thus,  

A need shall spark, his body shall obey.  

Two seconds more, his lips will ask with trust,  

And if they say ‘yes,’ he cannot turn away."

Adam’s eyes widened in horror as the words sank in. The change was immediate. His mind, sharp and calculating, suddenly snapped. The second he looked at George, an overwhelming desire flooded him. He took a step forward, his voice trembling.

“George, I—” He swallowed, trying to fight the words that wanted to spill out, but they escaped anyway. “I want you… I need you. Please, let’s do it again.”

George’s smirk faded into something almost pitying as he stepped back, shaking his head. “No.”

Adam blinked, the refusal shocking him, but the need remained. His body trembled with desire, the thought of George sending his blood rushing. He reached out, desperate. “Please, I can’t—”

But George stood firm. “This is what you wanted, Adam. You wanted the magic. Now you’ve got it.”

Adam’s desperation turned into panic, the uncontrollable lust gnawing at him as he realized what had happened. “Please, you have to stop this! I can’t live like this!”

George’s eyes softened, but his voice remained firm. “If you never see me again, I can never curse you again. Plain and simple.”

Adam’s heart pounded in his chest, the weight of the curse pressing down on him. He had no choice. He nodded stiffly, his voice shaking. “Fine.”

Without another word, he fled the apartment, the constant throbbing in his pants making every step unbearable, as if he were walking with a third leg. His ass twitched, loose and awkward, making him shift with every movement. He tried to keep his eyes down, avoid seeing anyone, avoid thinking about anyone. But as he neared his flat, he saw him—the old, fat man from the bar, the one with the crusty mustache he’d brushed off so easily the night before.

Adam’s eyes locked onto him, and the thought, just two seconds, crossed his mind. The change was instant.

“Hey,” Adam called out, already relieving his itchy erection, his voice unabashed from shame. “You wanna fuck me?”

The man’s eyes widened, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, I do.  Let’s go boy”

Before Adam could stop himself, he moved closer, his body betraying him. They ended up in Adam’s flat, the humiliation sinking deeper as he stripped down, his body moving on its own, giving in to the fat man’s cock. Every moment was pleasure, the curse forcing him to enjoy it all. As the man’s fingers roamed into his hole, Adam’s cock stood painfully erect, his ass twitching and clenching, unable to resist the pleasure.

By the time it was over, Adam lay in bed, the old man’s snores filling the room. He stared at the ceiling, the weight of his actions crushing him. He hated it. He hated the curse, hated George, hated himself. But as he thought back to the encounter, a sickening sense of satisfaction settled in his chest.

Maybe this was who he was now. He’d become the horny, bro-ish slut he’d always railed against.

But hey, at least he still had his wits about him.

“You wanna go again,” he asked the sleeping bear.

He awoke.  “Fuck yeah I do.”

FRIDAY

Adam groaned, his body still humming from the night before, shifting slightly in his bed, the weight of his smelly, bulging muscles pressing against the mattress in ways that felt less and less alien. The stench of sweat and sex clung to the sheets like a cruel reminder, but what gave him the most relief was that the old mustached bear, the fat man who had taken him, or he’d taken in, last night, was gone, leaving Adam with what few shreds of dignity he had left. For but a brief moment, Adam felt a glimmer of his old smart self, something buried deep beneath the layers of this cursed, grotesque transformation.

He brought himself up slowly, running a hand through his cum-soaked, dampened hair, trying to ignore the disgusting aire of musk that followed him everywhere. The night’s events replayed slowly in his mind, and each moment sent waves of heat rolling through him. He was disgusted with himself, yet somehow also satisfied. As much as he wanted to shake off the craziness of last night, something darker tugged within him—or instead, someone.  Someone he couldn't control.

George.

The mere thought of him, that witchy smile, made Adam's heart pump and race. He tried to resist it, clenching his fists as he paced around his tiny studio. No. He wouldn’t give in. Not again. But the more he fought it, the stronger the curse became. His cock twitched in his shorts, eternally hardening more and more, his mind clouded with an overwhelming desire as he let out a massive burp. It was George. He needed George. He needed to see him, fuck him, even if it meant more and more of these horrible, disfiguring changes.

Without even realizing what he was doing, Adam was out the door, heading toward George’s place. His brain screamed at him to turn back, to stop this madness, but his feet kept moving, each step heavier with the weight of inevitability. He arrived at George’s door, his heart pounding so hard it echoed in his ears. Before he could second-guess himself, he knocked.

The door creaked open, and there stood George, the same knowing smile curling on his lips, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Back so soon?” George asked, voice dripping with mockery.

Adam swallowed, his throat tight. His body screamed with need, the throbbing in his pants unbearable. “I… I need to fuck you,” he stammered, the words barely making it out. His muscles tensed, his breath shallow. “Please, George. I just want to stick my-”

“No.” George’s tone was sharp, cold. “I warned you, Adam.”

Adam froze, his heart sinking. Panic flooded his chest. “No, wait, I… I—” He turned to flee, the humiliation too much to bear, but George’s voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

“You’re not going anywhere,” George said softly, a cruel edge to his voice. With a flick of his hand, Adam’s body locked in place, muscles freezing as though they were held by invisible chains. Adam’s eyes widened in fear as George circled him like a predator, his gaze sweeping up and down Adam’s massive form.

“You could’ve been so wonderful, Adam,” George whispered, his fingers trailing across Adam’s rigid biceps. “If only you weren’t so obsessed with being better than everyone else.” George stopped in front of him, his eyes gleaming. “But don’t worry. I’m going to fix that.”

Adam’s heart pounded in his chest, his giant mind racing with panic. He tried to move, to speak, but nothing worked. He was trapped, helpless, his body at George’s mercy. And then, George began to recite.

“This man, with wit so sharp, shall find it dull,

His tongue to fail at words with length and grace.

In single beats, his speech doth make him full,

No thought can break the barrier of his face.”

Adam’s head buzzed as George’s words sank into his soul. He tried to protest, to say something, anything, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out were simple, one-syllable words, clumsy and slow like the dumbass he used to make fun of, the one he was about to become. “Wh-what… you… do…?” he stammered, struggling through each word. His brain felt like it was being squeezed, cell by cell, every attempt to say something even somewhat intelligent or complex was met with a foggy, impenetrable wall.

“No… more…” he managed, but even that felt like a battle. His tongue stumbled within his mouth, his speech slurring as the magic took further hold. Adam’s face twisted in frustration, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t even think of a word longer than one syllable. His mind was trapped in this humiliating simplicity, a far cry from the sharp intellect he once wielded.

George smiled, watching the struggle unfold with sadistic delight. “You’re already looking more like yourself, love.” He continued, his voice low and melodic.

“A jaw so slack, it barely knows its place,

His mouth hangs wide, flies wander through the door.

With 'duh' his mind reflects upon his face,

A smile so dumb, he trusts each word, what's more.”

As the next words spread themselves throughout the air and landed onto Adam’s face, he felt his jaw slacken into a relaxed position, the muscles in his face going completely limp. His mouth hung open, agape, his lips parting into a dumb, vacant expression. He could feel the cold air tickling his teeth as a small, stupid smile crept onto his face. He tried to close his mouth, to tighten his jaw, but it wouldn’t obey him. No matter how hard he tried, it remained slack, open, like a door left ajar.

Flies buzzed around, and before he knew it, one flitted into his mouth. He barely registered it, too dazed, too numb to even care. His face felt frozen in that idiotic grin, his eyes glazed over. Worse yet, every word George said sounded so… true. Every part of him wanted to believe whatever George told him, his gullibility sinking deep into his bones.

Adam’s mind screamed at him to resist, to hold onto what was left of his pride, but that part of him was fading fast. His lips, still curled in a stupid smile, parted again. “Uh… yeah, right…” he muttered, barely able to form coherent thoughts. His voice sounded thick and dopey, like it belonged to someone else, someone who couldn’t even spell Shakespear.

George’s voice softened, almost tender. “See, isn’t that easier? No more thinking, no more overcomplicating things. Just smile, and trust whatever I, or anyone tells you.”

Adam’s heart pounded in his chest, but his mind couldn’t focus. His thoughts were slipping away, replaced by something far simpler, far more primal.

“His thoughts now cloud with only two desires,

To lift, to bed, these things alone will stay.

His mind a fog, of neither will it tire,

And all else fades, in gym and bed to play.”

With those words, haze descended over Adam’s mind. Thoughts, once sharp and filled with wit, were now muddled, clouded with only two overpowering urges. He wanted to work out. He wanted to fuck. Everything else—his career, his pride, his intellect—faded into the background, meaningless, never to be seen again.

Images of bench presses flashed into his shrinking mind, the sensation of cold iron in his sweaty hands, the strain of his muscles as they bulged and flexed. And then there was sex—hot, mindless sex. His cock throbbed in his shorts, and the desire, the absolute need for physical release overwhelmed him, drowning out any other thought. Working out, fucking, working out, fucking, again and again and again. That was all that mattered now. Nothing else made sense, not like he could comprehend it anyways.

Adam tried to resist, to push through the fog, but alas, it was no use. His mind was too far gone, too consumed by primal urges. He let out a resonant, needy groan, his thoughts too disorganized to form any coherent plan of escape.

George watched with satisfaction as Adam’s transformation neared its end. With a triumphant smile, he delivered the final couplet.

“And now this man goes by initials who,

With knowledge slight, no higher than eight-two.”

As George’s last words took their hold, Adam felt the last remnants of his old self slip away, the final pieces of his mind shattering like glass into a distant oblivion. He wasn’t Adam anymore. He was… AJ. His name was AJ, always had been. That dumb, jockish grin became permanent across his face as his old life rewrote itself. His memories, once filled with scholarships, academic debates, tragedies and comedies, were now replaced by scenes of the gym, of flexing in front of the mirror, of fucking nameless faces in dark, sweaty backrooms.

His chest swelled with pride at the thought of lifting those heavy weights, of feeling the burn in his muscles as he pushed himself harder and harder. His thoughts were no longer burdened by complicated ideas or big words. They were simple, direct. Lift. Fuck. Repeat. That was it.

AJ blinked, his slack jaw hanging open as he stood there in front of George, his once bright mind now dim, sluggish, and focused only on the most basic of desires. His body reeked of fart and musk, his mind a tangled mess of lust and primal urges. His life as Adam, the intellectual, was gone. All that remained was AJ, a dumb, slutty, smelly jock.

George stepped back, admiring his handiwork as AJ smiled dumbly at him, his eyes empty, his brain no longer capable of critical thought. “You look perfect, AJ,” George said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

AJ’s grin widened, his thick tongue lolling slightly as he scratched at his crotch. “Th-thanks… bro,” he slurred, his voice deep and stupid.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” George murmured, tilting AJ’s chin up so their eyes met.

AJ’s smile grew even wider, his lips twitching as he struggled to form words. “Yeah, bro,” he said, his voice slow and thick. “I’m… real good.”

George couldn’t help but laugh. AJ was exactly what he had imagined—empty-headed, obedient, and driven by nothing more than his primal instincts. “You won’t be needing any of those big words anymore, will you, AJ?” George asked, his voice dripping with condescension.

AJ shook his head, his brow furrowing slightly as if even that small movement required a great deal of effort. “Nuh-uh,” he mumbled. “Big words are… uh… too hard.”

“Exactly,” George said, patting AJ’s cheek lightly. “And from now on, you’re going to live a very simple life. No more worrying about being better than anyone else. No more trying to prove how smart you are. You’ll be much happier this way. Just working out, fucking, and doing whatever you’re told.”

AJ nodded slowly, his thick muscles pulling and rippling beneath his skin as he flexed unconsciously. “Yeah, bro,” he agreed, his voice, like his mind, slow. “I like… liftin’... an’ fuckin’...”

“Now, AJ,” George said with command, “I think it’s time you head to the gym. You wouldn’t want to miss leg day, would you?”

AJ’s eyes widened slightly, the thought of working out sending a thrill of excitement through his body. “Leg day,” he repeated. “Yeah, bro. I gotta… lift.”

George smirked, watching diligently at his Frankenstein creation as AJ’s single-minded focus shifted completely to the gym. “That’s right, big guy. Go on, hit the weights, and make sure everyone sees how big and strong you are.”

AJ beamed, his dim-witted grin stretching even wider. “Gotta pump some iron.”  And as AJ disappeared into the distance, George sighed, knowing the man who’d once scoffed at him, at the very idea of magic and fate was now living proof of it’s power, his entire existence rewritten by just a few simple words. George smirked, satisfied once again, and waited for the next asshole to match with him on Hinge.

AJ, meanwhile, wandered toward the gym, his thoughts a jumbled mess of anticipation and primal urges. He could feel the weight of his bulging muscles with every step, the tightness of his tank top stretching across his massive chest. The constant itch in his groin had him adjusting his shorts every few seconds, a fart always ready in the chamber, and his cock already hard at the thought of the next guy he’d meet, or the next weight he’d lift.  He grinned stupidly, flexing his biceps as he prepared for the first set. “Let’s go, bro,” he muttered to himself, his voice thick with excitement. “Time to get swole.”

And with that, AJ’s transformation was complete. The man he had once been—Adam, the intellectual, the scholar—was gone, replaced by a farting, burping, simple-minded, horny, muscle-obsessed jock who lived only for the gym, for sex, and for any task any man asked for.

“Life’s good, bruh.”

[gremlingottoosilly]

Lego still not sponsoring me (dark!Konig x fem!Reader)

Konig is a nerd who needs to get sprayed with water for being a fucking creep. You're an adorable cashier at the Lego Store in Berlin who doesn't know any better and is too nice to lose. He will have you. Mostly because he wants someone to do his Lego sets with.

Details count: 2922 AO3 TW and Tags: Dub-con/Non-con, age gap, size difference, kidnapping, awkward colonel Konig, nerd Konig, hurt/comfort, Konig's POV(mostly), awkward German, yandere Konig.

You didn’t want to build Millenium Falcon with him. 

You didn’t want to shower or eat, you didn’t want to do anything besides crying, and even though your tears, as he expected, were beautiful and adorable, it was kinda hard for König to take care of your mental and physical needs while he was rock hard from watching you cry so sweetly. 

König is patient, kind, and a model citizen through and through. Why are you upset? He is doing everything he can, just to make you smile! Seriously, Schatzi, the desire to make him as miserable as you possibly can doesn’t make you pretty or cute or even the least bit adorable. Good thing that he is used to feeling sad and kinda of bullied – you’re lucky he doesn’t even try to feel good anymore. Not in his destiny book to live a good life. — I brought food. 

You groan lightly, whimpering somewhere in the corner of his basement. To your justification, his basement is a bit dirty. He forgot to visit the house for months after deployment, which was never enough to fill out the blanks of loneliness in the empty rooms. His dogshits methods of choosing decorations also made the mere existence in the house a hard mission even in itself. He looked at the anime posters in the guest rooms, which made him want to sell the property to anyone willing to pay 50 Euros for the processing fees. The posters(Sword Art Online because why the hell not, he likes cool swords and a power fantasy about a loser getting the chick) and artwork of his queen and savior, The Busty Blond Lady From Fate because, unlike those waifu-obsessed freaks, he did have a life and not enough time to actually remember her name. Something about light sabers. Or cats. — Are you going to kill me? 

He sighs because you sound like a broken record. All the time – the questions about his intentions, like you can’t see the tent in his pants every time you open your eyes, about letting you go, about at least allowing you to text your family that you decided to change your country of residence and would need to revoke your German visa. You’re way more soft than he thought you’d initially be – no fighting, no arguing, just pure terror and desire to die every time his hands brush over you. König is a sweet guy, as sweet as someone like him can be – but he only has a few weeks until his next mission, and even a few days of your moping around is bound to make him not just blue-balled, but also very, extremely, offensively hot-headed. 

He spent two days with you chained up in his basement and, he thinks, that should be enough for foreplay. He is extremely generous and kind – usually, at this point, he’d already start breaking the fingers of whoever poor fuck is his torture victim for the mission. 

— I don’t want to kill you. 

You whimper – somehow, his answer didn’t calm you down. Fucking women and their inability to talk to their kidnappers – he considers spiking your food just this once, so he could have a nice session with your little drunk self and some roofies but, of course, he is a nice guy who brought you takeout in a reheatable container, with a cute plastic fork and some sparkling water in a glass, just so you won’t feel like he is making you eat some garbage. It’s good food, too – he’d love to cook like this, but the heights of his skills are runny eggs and burnt coffee. He hopes you like the Italian because it’s the most inoffensive stuff he could have brought you without resorting to pizza and cup noodles. He will never let you eat cup noodles on his watch. 

— Are you going to rape me? 

He can’t exactly say no because, as a matter of fact, pulling your cute body under his is one of his intentions. He wanted to do it since he was you in this fucking store, but, of course. saying this to a pretty girl is lame. And completely counter-productive. And would make him a villain in your eyes, even though he tries so fucking hard to be a hero. He can make you feel good if you were to just open your pretty legs for him and moan under his tongue – god knows, he wants to make you feel good. He wonders what would it take for him to please you. If he could have a full-time job at this. 

— Nein. Thought I told you already. 

— I don’t…I shouldn’t believe you. 

He shook his head, pushing the plate(he had to go out of his way to actually put the pasta from the tray to a proper plate, enjoy this, woman) towards you. You’re adorable like this – naked, trembling, a bit too weak to actually fight him over not eating anything for the past two days – you’re repeating the same conversation over and over again and König wouldn’t mind living in a groundhog day if the loop would end with his fucking you on that thin mattress each time. 

Speaking of mattresses – he needs to get you a thicker one. 

Speaking of thicker mattresses – he needs to relocate you into his bedroom as soon as possible. 

Speaking of his bedroom – he is fucking bricked. 

— If you don’t trust me, why do you ask? 

You bite your lips. He can see you’re hungry and thirsty – he doesn’t want to forcefully feed you, so, yeah, you better be very hungry very soon. He pushes the plate towards you, hoping you won’t launch it on his head. He survived worse, a 6’4 British dude in a ski mask falling on him with the speed of Brexit, but getting hit by a plate when your angry girlfriend is being an angry girlfriend is…the best thing that could ever happen to him, actually. Gott, he is miserable. 

— I…I don’t know. Don’t want to get killed. 

— I won’t kill you. 

— But you will hurt me. 

— I don’t have to do that, Liebling. 

No, he doesn’t. 

But he sees the way your plushy thighs are squeezing into that tiny corner where your mat is, your squishy body getting all shaky and trembly, your lips in a tight line with tiny blood droplets from biting on them too much – and, by his fucking god, you’re beautiful. He wants to make you wet, to make you squirm, to make you beg and cry for mercy as he pounds into the sweetness of your cunt. He wants to try you on the inside and out, lick you all over from the inside, and then make you lick your love juices from his lips. 

König knows he is hard and can’t really hide it – it’s useless now, really, he is being very nice and considerate to you. Changing your life is hard, especially with how quickly you moved to his place – like a good boyfriend, he should help you adjust. And aid you in recognizing that he is, in fact, your boyfriend and future husband. The perfect partner to ever exist. — What is it? 

— Pasta. It’s…it’s good. Should be good. He is nervous, anxious. Seeing a pretty girl in her natural habitat – a Lego store – is one thing. He was barely able to talk to you properly, especially right after his deployment, where the only female attention he ever got was Roze asking to cover her or additional female soldiers groaning in pain as he stomped them. But you…he shouldn’t be colonel around you – absolutely not. You’re soft and civilian, you’re as polite as a girl in a basement could be, and you deserve to have something nice for once in your life. Licking his lips, König gently picks up a fork and presses a small amount of pasta – rich, creamy, with some nice cheese that smells divine - -against your lips. 

You refuse.

A smart move, he could have poisoned it – so he thinks for a few seconds, staring at you like a smart girlie you are, and then – lifts his hood. If only barely, revealing his scarred chin and bruised lips. The initial swelling after getting his head bumped by a guy who was speaking like an edgy teenager in the Counter-Strike lobby was already gone by the time he managed to get you into his basement – but no amount of rest could hide all other marks from his job. 

Despite being a seasoned mercenary with hundreds of killed targets and completed objectives, he feels…insecure. You’re a nice girl, a good girl, the type that used to look at him with hatred while he was bullied at school. Hatred or pity – but you only look at him with fear, and it cements his understanding that you’re not going to give in to loving him so easily.

König sighs deeply, his lips, curved into that awkward, boyish smile that creeps on his face every time he as much as thinks about you, now transforming into a scowl as you proceed to whimper and try to get lost in the wall behind you. Like he wouldn’t be able to track your scent if you would disappear. He slowly presses his fork towards his mouth, chewing on the food – showing you that it’s not poisoned. 

He smiles again when he sees you slowly parting your lips, expecting him to feed you with less of a fuss. He’d propose something else – maybe even untying your hands and allowing you to actually for yourself, but something in your helpless state made his cock throb in his pants. God, König knows he isn’t his strongest soldier, but could he please make you less adorable? He doesn’t want to push you on your knees and make you suck on him until he whimpers, but the way you lick all of the cheese from your lips and try your best to look presentable in front of him… The process of feeding someone shouldn’t really be sexual, but König gently pushes the hair away from your face and lifts up the fork over and over, sometimes only changing to bring a glass of water to your lips. He can do this all day. Every day. Pleasing you already becomes second nature – and he spends most of his life thinking that the only thing he can take care of is his rifle and a few tortured enemies that need their teeth extracted. You require gentle handling – and he wants nothing more but to give you that. Just…a bit later. Preferably after the already came in your pussy at least two or three times and made you choke on his dick as a little thank-you gift. 

You finish eating after a short while, thanking him for bringing you a napkin to clean your lips. König gently caresses your head, enjoying the sensation of your hair under his palm – it’s like petting a cat. A soft little pet just for him and no one else – if only he could actually bring you to like him. He has a few bond activities in mind, though. — You liked it, ja? 

You lick your lips again, and his breath hitches. This is going to be hard, this is going to be impossible, it’s worse than having to work with high Krueger on a ship that made everyone feel like they were the ones doing crack in the backroom of their makeshift base. 

— I…I did. 

He pets your head again like you’re his pet – and you gently move your head to lean into his touch. Perhaps you’re dumber than he thinks. Or way smarter – a clever strategy to make him relax and nice to you without making him too suspicious. You slowly get back into your corner, but König wouldn’t have any of it – he drags you back by your arm, making you whimper and sob in his hold. It’s bad, he doesn’t want you to squirm from under him as much as you do, but…if you don’t want to be a good girl, he might as well force you to. 

You cry as he pushes you deep into the corner, his hands roaming over your body. Thank god he ripped your clothes before you woke up – now there isn’t anything protecting you from his hands, not even that adorable bra he ripped in pieces because, as much as he loved wearing a uniform with straps and buttons everywhere, he could not figure out how to take this thing off you without breaking it. The last time he was sleeping with a woman, she wore a sports bra that could be taken off easily. It’s your fault that you decided to be more girly, really. Not his. 

His hands cup your breasts roughly. Tugs and twists your nipples, a few shaky moans telling him exactly how sensitive you are – he might not have a girl in a hot minute, too busy with being the best freaking mercenary in the world, but even he knows how to take care of a pretty thing like you. Your tits fit in his hands perfectly, even more, reasons to believe you were just made for him. Not for some lame job at a Lego store counter – you should be waiting on your knees in his bedroom, with your mouth open wide and neat to fit his cock right in. With some sweet things lingering on your tongue as he bullies himself right in, getting what he deserves for protecting peace – and installing violence – while doing his job. He might not be the best freaking guy around, but he deserves something nice. 

He pinches your nipples until they’re firm and swollen, every little cry escaping from your lips is only encouraging him to proceed. Licks on the open skin of your neck until his eneve stubble makes you whimper from how sensitive you are – it should be painful, he thinks, with how bloody the little bite marks from his teeth have become. 

König marks you as thoroughly as possible, smiling each time you cry and beg for him to stop. You’re changing between bad German and good English, between loud cries and small whimpers, which he can’t determine from pleasure to pain. Not like he cares, too determined to make you cry his name – even though you probably don’t know it. All of his desires to claim you taking full power now, not listening to the way you plead with him. Whimper for him. Your skin is a clear canvas, allowing him to paint you with hickeys and marks, enjoying the little blood droplets covering your collarbones. 

— Quiet, please. Don’t…don’t move, Schatzi. I don’t want to hurt you. 

— Please, please, just…anything but… — Won’t take long. Promise. 

— I don’t want to- — Quiet. I know you don’t, Liebling. Just…Scheisse, you…fuck. 

— Stop! — Can’t. I apologize, Schatzen. Relax for me, ja?

He whispers, he whimpers, he is almost out of his mind when he can finally put his tongue on your swollen nipples. For some weird, depraved reason, he almost expects the milk to start flowing from your chest, allowing him to drink up as much as he wants. If he could get you pregnant, he might enjoy it for a few months – although having a kid on his hip isn’t as fun as it could have. He tried to babysit Hutch kids once when he brought them to base – and it was the worst fucking day of his life. Besides, little children can’t be around Legos – it's already a deal breaker for someone like him. 

Speaking of legos…

You wiggle in his grasp, as good as you can with your hands still in the handcuffs – he should give you that one, at least you aren’t just laying lifelessly in front of him. At least you’re putting up a fight. At least he doesn’t feel too bad about restraining you without proper reasoning. You lick your lips again, that cute tongue of yours going over all the bite marks. You take a deep breath, shaking in his hold. God, he can just look in your face the whole day – barely knows how to handle himself around you. — I…I thought you wanted to…build this set with me? Smart girl. Way smarter than he gave you credit for – you know how to make him stop in his tracks and finally look at you differently. Maybe, you’re too good for him. Maybe, he doesn’t really care about that. Millennium Falcon, still sitting in the box – König hoped you’d start slowly putting it together but, seemingly, you need a bit of encouragement. The only thing that could tug him away from your breasts is the expensive set sitting just next to him. 

Might start bonding with you as well. He tugs away from your nipples with a loud pop, an obnoxiously wet sound emerging as a thin line of saliva connects your breasts and his tongue. You whimper when he smiles, that scarred face of his twisting in a huge grin. Knows he’s not the most charming person around, but it’s not like you have any choice now – not with the limited options he gave you. Like a good girl, you’d probably pick doing Lego Sets with him than taking his cock in that tight pussy of yours. He’d be satisfied with any outcome. — J…ja. I’d like that.  He has to give this one to you – you really know how to get a man going.

Bu building this insane set with him, that is.

[jeyunhos]

Reputation | jyh

pairing: professor!yunho x college student!fem!reader cw: power dynamics, professor x student, cunnilingus, 18+ minors do not interact. Summary: Your creative writing professor is so hot you're about to fail his class. Dying to help you, the both of you figure out a new method to increase your penmanship. A/N: glasses yunho is driving me crazy, you hear me, CRAZY

You ever had a teacher with a sort of reputation? The crazy one, the smelly one, the strict one... There's probably a repertoire of clichés and boxes you could fit every single one of this semester's teachers in, but recently, you had grown fond of one particular class: Creative Writing, with professor Jeong Yunho, the dreamy one.

Yunho had a reputation alright, a reputation as the one teacher every girl fell for. Leave alone his absolutely stunning looks, he was kind, patient, and gentle, an all-rounder of a teacher who could instruct a rock on how to write wonderful pieces if he put his mind to it.

One problem, you didn't care for his class at all. Sure, it was fun to try but you were close to failing due to your enormous crush on the man, and you figured your were doomed to continue that way, since the only way to get over him, was to get under him.

You were busy daydreaming about being tied to his office chair as you walked the corridors when you heard your name bounce off the walls and a light trotting behind you. You were snapped back to reality and turned around only to see professor Yunho himself joining you with a huff of his cheeks.

"Phew! I got to catch you." he said excitedly, panting lightly from the sudden outburst of energy he had used.

"Professor" you started, trying to hide your delight and surprise "Is something wrong?" you asked, wondering what he would probably need you for.

"Do you have ten minutes before you head home? I've got to talk to you about your recent piece." in between his large hand he wiggled a foldered set of printed sheets with your most recent submission written on them.

"Sure, right here?" you asked, looking around at the vast prying eyes around you.

He answered with a shake of his head "Join me in my office for a bit."

You followed behind the man through the crowded maze that your school was, he was fast due to his long legs, and hence you were walking slightly behind him. The breeze would carry a bit of his cologne into your nose whenever it blew, heightening the infatuation you already held for him.

Rumors were also true, he was a complete gentleman. The second you got to his office he opened the door and moved aside to let you past and held the chair out for you to sit.

"So," he started as he fixed his suit jacket the moment he sat down "I'm worried about your final grade." Yunho went straight to the tone, which let you know that whatever fantasy you were having about being bent over the desk was not happening.

"What do you mean?" you feigned innocence, knowing damn well that you were close to repeating the class. Well, not that you would mind staring at him for another whole semester, but it wasn't exactly something you could afford.

"Yes, however..." he started, pulling the file open to look at the printed version of your work "Despite having submitted every assignment, your scores have been constantly low and that's because," he cleared his throat, as if trying to find less harsh words to describe your work "the pieces are just not good."

You felt a blush, proof of your embarrassment, creep around your face through your neck, your sight lowered in shame, something he immediately noticed. Your final project was writing a short story about romance, with a twist, and an ending of your choice.

"Let's go over some lines slowly" he said with a gentle, charming smile "For example, this one 'in that moment they felt they were falling in love'" he explained. "Do you see what is wrong with that line?"

"They weren't falling in love?" you asked innocently, not really sure of what he wanted you to answer.

Your little joke caused him to laugh in the form of a chuckle. He was mostly amused by the hardness of your head. He leaned backwards and looked up at you.

"Have you ever been in love?" he asked nonchalantly, as if he was asking 'how have you been?' to an old friend.

With you, you thought to yourself, but of course that couldn't leave your lips.

"Not exactly sure." you admitted finally.

He let out a sigh and nodded mostly to himself .

"In writing, you don't really want to tell the audience what the characters are doing or feelings are experimenting, it reduces imagination to a mere instruction." he explained "You want to tell them about everything else but the actual feeling. So, say, if the characters were falling in love, instead of saying it straight out, you want to describe the way their hearts raced, or how they couldn't pry their eyes from each other despite the chaos around them, or how they longed for something so much more than a mere graze of their lips." he tried to explain to you, but in your face he could see you were not grasping it. "But I guess that's hard if you've never experienced it first hand."

You nodded along with every bit of his explanation, and there was a hint of disappointment and hurt on your face when he finally finished his sentence.

Picking up on this, he gently tapped his hands on the desk and reincorporated himself to lean forward "Let's try something else." he proposed, catching your attention "I'll give you a week, rewrite the thing, but don't do romance, do erotica instead." he asked with a smile on your face.

"Erotica?" you inquired, quite surprised by this new task.

"It's hard to say we have experienced love" he said "But we've all been aroused, it's in our programming as mammals" with a grin, he handed the folder over to you "All my notes are there, write some erotica, send it to my e-mail, and we can talk about your final grade, alright?"

With a swipe of his hand, he ended up dismissing you. You obliged and left the office, albeit reluctantly since being alone with him had been a delight, and headed home to begin working.

Not that you were foreign to fantasizing about sexual scenarios, especially involving him, but putting them into words was a whole other ordeal. 'We all have been aroused' these words resonated in your head, and so, you got all hands on deck.

Four days later, your final manuscript was in his inbox, and only a few hours afterwards you got another e-mail:

jyunho@school.com: Please meet me at 8:00pm in my office to discuss the grade.

8? That was kind of late, but you figured he was in a rush since the semester was ending soon and all the final grades had to be uploaded to the school online system. Plus, it's not like you were exactly in the position to refuse anything, your passing grade was at stake.

You dolled yourself up a bit right before the agreed time, just in case you figured, and went on your merry way. The university halls were creepily abandoned due to the late hour save for some offices with the lights still on, part of being the end of the semester you guessed, and it made you feel uneasy; said feeling disappeared almost immediately once you reached the right door. "Professor Jeong Yunho" it read.

"Come in" you heard a raspy voice call after you knocked.

He himself was a sight to behold. Hair slightly disheveled, suit jacket laid over the back of the chair, black turtleneck shirt on. He looked tired and felt like so.

"So?" you said with a cheery voice, trying to lighten the mood, as you approached the chair.

He let out a sigh, similar to last time but now more exasperated "Still not good." he blurted out.

You could tell his guard was down, because the Yunho you knew as your teacher wouldn't talk so roughly, yet there was something thrilling about said demeanor, something inherently hot to seeing him so worked up.

"You keep describing the actions, this is even worse than the romance one." he added some salt to your wound "'they kissed roughly and she was pinned down to the bed'? This is not a report, this is supposed to be exciting, where's the erotism, the magnetism, the-" as he was ranting on his own with you sitting across his desk, looking amiss of words to be honest, he stopped himself half way when he came to a sudden realization.

"The...?" you tried to ask once he was staring at you in utter silence.

"Close your eyes." he ordered.

"What?" despite your eagerness to obey him, almost naturally, you had to double check that you were listening correctly

"We're going to do a little exercise, close your eyes." he said once more.

You finally obliged and shut your lids. You weren't entirely sure what was happening around you, but promptly you felt a presence behind you.

"I'm going to do a couple of things, I want you to describe to me how you feel when I do them." you could tell he was the presence you had felt from the direction of his voice.

Fuck. You had to be careful, this was getting dangerous. Despite your eagerness to be his little toy, you knew if you didn't tread lightly you could find yourself reported or expelled if he didn't feel the same. So, you made a mental note to actually pay attention and figure out if this little predicament could work out in your favor.

As you were conjuring your evil plan in your brain, he began to work on his own. You felt the tip of his fingers on the back of your hands, slowly crawling up through your forearms, your biceps, and finally your shoulders.

"Talk to me" he urged when you didn't respond "How do you feel?" he repeated himself.

"Warm." you said out loud, your eyes still shut.

It's not like you weren't trying, really, but his touch had wiped your mind blank effectively.

His head shook firmly in disappointment, there was no getting through to you no matter how complex the method he was using, and how certainly... risky. But he couldn't deny this new way was getting him excited, possibly in ways it was not exactly code-of-conduct-appropriate.

"I'll help you." he leaned over further to repeat the movement he had done seconds before, his head hovering next to your ear. "When I touch your hand your skin feels soft, almost silk-like. I grow curious, so my hands travel further up, your forearm is delightful, it sets within me a hunger I can only sasiate with the subtle violence of a bite, but I can't bring myself to do it, not just yet, there's so much I want to explore, so I continue my path until I get to your neck."

His words were beyond arousing to you. The way his hands and body mimicked everything he spoke of was setting your skin ablaze. You wanted him badly, and you had made it your resolve to finally get him to sleep with you, you didn't know how, but you were determined to lead him where you wanted.

"Try again." he instructed, his hands moving away from your neck. "Tell me how you feel."

You were slightly disappointed at the lack of contact, and you were worried you might have missed your window. However, something else entirely caused a gasp out of you. His lips were now grazing the base of your neck and you could feel the hot breath that came out of his mouth straight onto your skin.

"My skin feels like crawling with heat," you began to say "A tingle travels from my hand, following your touch all the way up to my neck; my expectations grow and I wonder just how far you will take this. Your lips wake the goosebumps whenever they touch, and I crave to feel them over my body."

As you spoke, you could lightly hear his breath hitch and, for a second, you could swear he was going to do it, he was going to kiss your neck, but he stopped.

"Seems like you got it" he said as he pulled back after clearing his throat. He moved from behind your chair to lean against his desk, his rear almost laying on it; his arms were crossed over his chest once you opened your eyes.

"Hardly" was all you could say, and you stole a glance at how his pants seemed to have gotten tighter on the front.

"Hardly?" he asked, his head tilting "Is there anything else you're struggling with?"

It was going to be like that, huh? He was not going to drop the teaching charade. Well, you knew a thing or two about playing the student in despair.

You stood up from where you were sitting and walked over to Yunho, your hands hidden innocently behind your back. He was getting a kick out of it, you could tell, perhaps Mr. Jeong was a lot more sinful that he looked at bare glances; well, you'd indulge him.

"Kisses, for example, how do you go from 'looking at each other' to 'kissing' without saying something lame like, I don't know, 'they kissed'?" now you were guiding the situation to where you wanted it to go, you figured.

"Well, with kisses you want to start slow, not quite jump right to it." he began to explain, still keeping his intellectual facade "Like..." he continued, his hand slowly raising to land on the back of your neck, his fingers playing lightly with the back of your hair. His eyes landed on yours and you could finally feel the desire that had been pooling between your legs mirrored in the darkness of his pupils "...this."

Once he finished his sentence he leaned in closer, his lips brushed yours and you tried to close the gap, but he pulled back the slightest. 'Fuck' you thought, but the second you wanted to pull back the hand that was holding your neck forced you otherwise.

Your lips melted together with his almost immediately and he had to inhale a sharp breath; it was only innocent for a couple of seconds, because after his free arm snaked around your waist, his palm to your lower back, all logic fell off the window. From both parts.

The chaste, educational kiss faded quickly and was replaced by his tongue brushing against your bottom lip in attempt to ask for entrance, a permission that was granted immediately. He was exploring the entirety of your mouth, ravishing on the taste of your tongue against his.

It wasn't long before both of you were consumed by the unmistakable desire to break one sacred rule, of diving into unexplored taboo of sleeping with your teacher. He picked up on it rather quick, and shortly he was pulling away.

He bounced himself off his desk and his hands guided you by the hips to turn around, flipping your positions. His hand was certainly gentle, but with such sturdiness you wouldn't even dare disobey his silent commands. One of them held your hair and pushed it down, bending you over his desk with your clothes still on.

This last statement didn't remain true for long, as his needy fingers quickly dived on your lower garments, dipping roughly inside the waistbands and pulling down altogether.

His lips pursed at the sight of your bare ass and cunt all laid down for him, his right thumb trailing your slit and clit teasingly.

"I don't have to narrate what happens next, do I?" he asked. It was his own version of asking for consent.

"I'll still take notes." you teased back, looking over your shoulder.

He let out an amused chuckle and you saw him begin fumbling with his zipper. There was a rumor that he was packing down there, and you were now confirming it with your own eyes. Not ginormous, but certainly a bit above average.

From his pocket, he pulled out a condom which he carefully ripped open to roll it over his shaft; once securely wrapped, he positioned himself on your entrance and slowly began to push it. The slightly painful stretch was delightful, poetic almost, to you.

"You okay?" he grunted under his breath, trying his best to not start pouding right away.

You simply replied with a positive hum and that was everything he needed. With enough force he began to thrust into you, deep and sensual at the beginning, and you could feel him gradually getting rougher.

You were smart enough to keep your moans at bay, but when he started to push all the way in to the point it felt like rearranging you, it became harder and harder. He couldn't be sure that there weren't other teachers around, since it was still around eight thirty, so he had to help you somehow; one of his hands as kept on your hip as grip and the other one had to be pressed up against your mouth. The palm was so wide it almost covered your nose too, and he was extra careful not to accidentally suffocate you.

As a result, your head was pulled back and slightly to the side where he was pressing from, leaving an area of your neck free to his admiration. His thrusts continued to pick up the pace and roughness, and at some point they became so strong the desk began to slide backwards, making an annoying, dragging sound with every thrust.

Yunho was forced to let go of your hip and bend over to hover over you. He was tall enough that his head reached yours and his hand was able to hold the other edge of the desk to stop it from dragging on the floor. As a consequence, your skin was near his lips once more, and he decided to give in to his previous temptation and bite down gently on your skin, leaving a hot mark behind but not a bruise.

"I can't hold back much longer." he said into your ear in an almost apologetic tone.

Your agreement was muffled by his hand, but you let him know it was okay. He continued to grunt and pant heavily against your skin with rough, powerful thrusts into your cunt, but the rhythm was more erratic, and you could tell he was close.

Finally, with a moan of your name that he muffled with your neck, he came.

Being honest, you were a little disappointed that you hadn't gotten to orgasm yourself, but having fucked him was already prize enough, you were not about to get greedy on an already wrong and thoroughly enjoyable sexual encounter.

As you were sunked in these thoughts, he pulled out from you and began fixing his clothes rather quickly. Following his lead, you leaned back up and reached down to pick up your own until his voice stopped you.

"Woah, woah, what are you doing?" he asked, reaching quickly after putting himself back in his pants to avoid you from putting your own back up. "No, no." he continued quickly, his free hand bending you over once more. "Rule number one of erotica: the woman is never left unsatisfied."

You weren't sure what he meant by that, was he going to fuck you again? Maybe, but you weren't sure he could just right away, sure he was young but.. oh.

The long lap at your clit from behind surprised you greatly and caused a long, quiet moan out of you. You could feel him lapping and sucking at your slit with renewed energy, and it was driving you insane just how well he was eating you out.

As he continued his ministrations with his tongue from behind, one of his thumbs reached for your clit, circling it slowly and deliberately, he knew pretty damn well where everything was and he was not about to be shy about it.

Your legs began to tremble, and he was moaning into your womanhood with every taste of it which only added fuel to the fire within you. It wasn't long before you started to feel the familiar tingle on your stomach., and seconds later you allowed yourself to cum against his mouth.

Satisfied with his performance and having reached his goal, he helped you with your clothes back up and walked over back to his chair with you still bent over the desk as you regained your composure. His head tilted so his cheek was almost touching the wooden surface and he could be eye-level with you.

"I expect your story by tomorrow, okay?" he said with an innocent smirk.

"Yes, professor" you said in between pants before you raised to your feet again "And thank you, this was very useful." you added.

That night, you went back to your home and began writing in extreme detail everything that man had done to you; all while changing names, locations, and times, of course. Nothing more erotic than keeping a secret, after all.

The story came out naturally and easily, with a newfound talent that you could have sworn was not there before, somehow Jeong Yunho had managed to fuck it out of you, and so, when you began to struggle with the last lines of your work, the image of his smiling face gave you a strike of genius:

'..and as the young girl hardly waddled out of the room, feeling refreshed, brought anew, she came to the realization that some men really do live up to their reputation."

[thagomizersshow]

I love when sci-fi/fantasy writers throw in a random fact about a fictional species that actually has big repercussions for that species' biology.

Like, there is a species in Star Trek called Saurians who are adorable dinosauroid looking dudes. They've had very little revealed about them despite having been mentioned as early as the original series by way of "Saurian brandy" — a drink that is so strong it can put a Klingon on their ass in one swig.

Other than that, most of what we know about them comes from snippets involving a reoccuring character on Discovery named Linus, who is mostly a comic relief character. Now the reason I bring them up is that in one episode there's a scene where Linus is eating bamboo of all things, and I'm not sure the writers realized how telling this is about Saurian biology.

Bamboo is a damn hard food to eat, and us humans can only eat the shoots of a few species. Even then, raw consumption of shoots can lead to cyanide poisoning if you aren't careful. We still don't know how exactly a lot of animals that eat a lot of bamboo (bamboo lemurs, red pandas, bamboo rats, elephants, gorillas) are able to digest so much of it without getting cyanide poisoning. There is some sort of neutralization process in giant pandas involving the rhodanese enzyme that turns cyanide into the non-toxic thiocyanate that they just pee out, but the process is still poorly understood in other species.

Bamboo is also hard to digest for the same reason all grasses are; their plant wall cellulose is hard as hell to break down. Like, your choices are:

a) you do a poor job of digesting it and just spend all day eating (giant panda, red panda, bamboo lemur)

b) you grow really big and have a big gut (elephants, gorillas)

c) you only eat the parts of the plant that are easier to digest (bamboo rats)

On top of that, bamboo is loaded with silica phytoliths that are like microscopic bits of glass. These evolved to make their tissues even harder to chew and metabolize.

It's hard to make out in the scene, but it looks like Linus is eating raw bamboo leaves. Just picking them up with his fingers and munching on them like it's nothing. That means his teeth and/or jaws would need to be very powerful (maybe hypsodont? or maybe tooth batteries?) AND, because he's eating it raw, he'd have to be immune to the cyanide in some way.

One explanation could be in the Star Trek Adventures TTRPG, where Saurians are said to have an ability called "Enhanced Metabolism" where they recover from toxins faster than other species (my guess is this was meant to reference their brandy being so strong). BUT, that's not the same thing as the immunity real bamboo eating animals seem to have. My head canon is that Saurians have a diet similar to red pandas, where bamboo-like plants are their main diet on their homeworld, but they'll eat other stuff too when it's available, AND they've evolved some way to convert cyanide into a harmless chemical they excrete, like a giant panda.

All of these whacky biology shenanigans stem (hehe) from the casual writing decision to make a supporting alien character seem weird by eating a weird thing.

[alphajocklover]

No longer a Spider, finally a Man

**Hey! First time doing a fanfic muscle growth. Or at least posting it. I hope you guys like it! Please tell me how I can do better, and send in story suggestions if you want!**

Peter Parker loved being Spider-Man. He loved saving people, he loved using his powers to make a difference, he loved swinging through the sky line. But he also hated it. He hated the pressure, the responsibility, the fact that he nd his loved ones were in constant danger, the fact that he was always lying to everyone. He hated that he could never be normal. But then again Peter had never been very normal. Even before becoming Spider-man he had been a nerd. Smart, socially awkward, and tormented by the popular kids. That didn’t exactly change after becoming Spider-Man either, though his social issues had definitely gone to the back burner with him constantly fighting crime. If he was being honest his social life had only gotten worse since becoming a superhero. He had gained some muscle and no longer needed glasses, yes, but he couldn’t exactly show that. He hadn’t had time for his friends, his normally fantastic grades were slipping, and Flashes bullying had only gotten worse.

As Peter, out of costume, walked to Midtown, he wondered what it would be like to be a normal teenager. Not just what it would be like to not be Spider-Man, but to not be a nerd. He wondered what it would be like to be a regular teenage boy. Maybe if he wasn’t Spider-Man he could have even been… cool or something. Probably not, but it was still a nice fantasy. Just as he was imagining this, his spider-sense went off. He looked around, prepared to jump out of the way of any danger, but, even with his super reflexes, he couldn’t get out of the way before the strange something hit him right in the middle of his chest. Peter stumbled back, not realizing that the reality stone, one of the infinity stones, had lodged itself inside of his heart. Normally such a thing would kill someone, or at least hurt them, but due to the magic nature of the stone it phased through his chest and inside of him without harming him. Peter blinked. What… just happened? He had sworn something had just flown into his chest but… wouldn’t that have killed him or something? Before he could investigate further, an alarm on his phone began to ring. Crap, he was late for class! Peter ran into the school as the power of the reality stone seeped into his blood. He turned a corner, just a hallway away from his classroom, when he almost ran straight into a wall of muscle, his super-reflexes being the only thing that saved him. As he skirted to a halt, he came face to face with his biggest tormentor (supervillains and news editors notwithstanding) : Flash Thompson. The most popular jock in school and Peter Parker's personal bully. The blond quarterback sneered cockily at Peter before he spoke

“Hey there Puny Parker. Running late again? I thought geeks like you were supposed to be punctual and shit?” Flash said with a cocky mocking laugh.

“What do you want, Flash?” Peter asked with a scowl, trying to keep his patience.

“Just checking up on my favorite nerd.” Flash mocked, grabbing Peter’s arm. Before Peter could react, Flash had shoved him up against the locker, peters arm pinned behind his back. What the heck? He had super powers, enhanced reflexes, he should have been able to see that coming. Peter didn’t realize that his subconscious desire to be normal was repressing his powers. Unable to fight back, Peter was shoved into a nearby open locker and locked inside. Peter sighed. Stuck in a locker again. Peter didn’t notice as the orange light in his chest began to glow. He closed his eyes and deeply wished… to stop being a loser. To be normal. To be… anything else than who he was. The orange light grew brighter and brighter… until it completely consumed Peter. Suddenly he heard something

“Parker… Parker!”

With a start Peter Parker woke up, looking around in shock. He was… in a classroom? He was sitting at a desk at the back of a class he didn’t recognize, one that he seemed to have been sleeping through. Had all of that been a crazy dream? He looked over to see the remedial math teacher, Ms Jones. What was he doing in remedial math? Before he could say anything, Ms Jones spoke once more

“Mr Parker, please try to stay awake during class. Your grade is already low enough.” She said, sending a chuckle throughout the room. Peter spoke without thinking, his voice deeper and fuller than he remembered.

“Sorry teach. I’m still tired from our ‘study session’ last night. Thanks for the extra tutoring by the way~” he said. Did he just… flirt with a teacher? He did! And weirdly enough the slight embarrassed blush on Ms Jones face suggested that it was working. Ms. Jones spoke again, more timid this time

“While.. just don’t be late tonight.” She said with a slight wink, before walking over to the front of the classroom again. This caused the class, which now that Peter was looking consisted mostly of the football team, too laugh loudly, one punching Peter on the shoulder in a playful manner. Peter felt a smirk he couldn’t control come over his face, and his eyes involuntaries followed Ms Jones' ass as she walked back to the front of the class. In a daze, Peter tried to figure out what was happening. Wasn’t he just in a locker? What was he doing in remedial math? And why was he acting so weird? Before he could wonder any further, the bell rang and class was dismissed. Peter ran out without talking to anyone, and headed to a nearby bathroom. He looked in the mirror and froze. It was Peter but… completely different. He was bigger, taller, with wider shoulders. He had full, bouncy pecs that were barely contained by his tank top, shredded abs that he could grate cheese on, and truly impressive biceps. Peter had gone from a geek who gets stuffed into lockers to a huge muscular jock! Peter wanted to be shocked, to be horrified, but… he felt another smirk cross his face. He began to flex his muscles cockily. He smirked and felt his thoughts turn. He looked fucking amazing! I mean, of course he did. He was big Pete Parker, the big man, the quarterback, the stud! Slowly Peter began to forget about his old self, too absorbed in the strong, dull thoughts going through his head. He wondered what he and his best bro Flash would do after football practice? Maybe beat up some geeks, or find a hottie to hook up with? Peter had a lot of girls to choose from already, including MJ, Liz, Gwen, Charlie and of course Ms Jones, but… he wouldn’t mind another. Pete smirked and strut out of the bathroom, not noticing a light orange glow between his pecs. Life was fucking sweet.

[fadelbison]

Of Boats and Drama; The Turning Tides on Kant and Bison's Compatibility

obsessed with how when its during their make believe phase, when fadel says "I think I love you" to Style, Style doesn't say it back and instead just kisses him at the end of ep. 6 and during the kantbison parallel at the start of ep7 when Bison says "I love you" to Kant, Kant says "I love you" back but clearly there's baggage even if he's not lying outright.

But after the brothers kidnap their respective lovers its Style that fronts with the I love you that perplexes Fadel

and its bison that wants to hear it

but Kant jumps into the ocean instead (like you can see the beach front okay Bison is clearly devoid of killing intent here) instead of lying to him or say the same things he's been saying to dupe him.

I really think this is where the Kant and Bison compatibility is finally starting to show. Bison clearly loves his little fantasies and make belief of romance (just like style dear fucking god). I've joked before about how bison has given to his brother the lover he had envisioned for himself - the one who will plead his love, cajole and give in.

But that guy is wrong for him.

We've seen that slightly off dynamic between Kant and Bison for 6 whole episodes. And it's killed me that people kept trying to interpret them with the same rose tinted glasses that we do for Fadel and Style. Because the FadelStyle and KantBison relationship parallels aren't meant to highlight the similarities between the couples but rather the differences, that's where the information about these characters come from.

The audience knows something that Kant doesn't in the boat scene; which is that he has this in the bag already. I think this is the infamous island Bison inherited from his dad and he's brought him here to literally just talk. I know I mentioned this already but bison literally looks like he just untied the boat from shore and let it drift on its own while waiting for Kant to wake up.

Like that has got to be the minimum legal distance that a boat needs to be from shore to be considered unmoored lol. This is 'I am using your vulnerabilities against you because love is pain' shore distance not 'dead body dumping' shore distance. The body will wash up on shore before the boat even makes it back.

But for Bison, Fadel's reasonable precautions while we talk approach was not enough. He needed the ropes, the guns, the added ocean trauma because the guns didn't feel enough to instill fear, the pretty necklace he put on just so he could rip it off his throat, everything is already high drama high fantasy for him. Bison set the stage for desperate begging and tearful confessions, things he already got at the hospital btw but that wasn't enough either.

Because.

Bison doesn't need to be sold on fantasies. He had that and it sucked for everyone involved, what he needs when he's totally out of control like this is this guy:

[screenshots of Kant telling bison he wants to talk on land and he's scared of the ocean]

For six whole episodes I saw Kant be wrong for Bison and not be able to pinpoint exactly why people cawing over how cute KantBison are bothered me so much. Until, of course, Kant finally does something right and all of a sudden it just all clicks together. Bison is boisterous, headstrong and because of his unique skillset also irresponsibly dangerous. The BDSM scene also shows that despite his best intentions, Bison can and will abuse power if given to him irresponsibly.

He doesn't need the Kant that plays along with everything he does. He needs the Kant that Kant is to everyone but him. The person that Kant is when they're together is barely even Kant. He needs the calm, level headed but fiercely devoted older brother, he needs the guy that helps a hookup out because that's his duty as a human being, he needs the guy that stole cars to keep his family fed. And I'll be really honest, that's the guy that Bison loves anyway, the one he hears about from Babe and Style and James.

What Bison needs is the quiet devotion of Kant choosing his own personal hell over playing this game and furthering any deception between them even though technically it wouldn't even be a lie (Bison is literally poised to believe him); the dogged resolve that once he's decided to do this on his own terms, it happens on his own terms.

[tossawary]

When writing fanfiction, there are a lot of unknowns surrounding Mobei-Jun that I answer based on what I think is compelling, funny, and/or contrasts well against SQH | Airplane Bro. (Sometimes, based on what contrasts interestingly and/or hilariously against Luo Binghe or Shen Qingqiu.) The choices I make for MBJ also depend on what suits that particular story.

An interesting question: "What kind of literature does Mobei-Jun like?" He's Airplane Bro's Ideal Man / Dream Guy! It's fun to think about what Mobei-Jun's relationship might be to fiction.

One choice that I've pulled a few times now is having Mobei-Jun be functionally illiterate, mostly because I think that situation is an interesting / amusing contrast to the guy who technically wrote the world into existence. Airplane Bro was cranking out thousands of words per day to eat, selling out his honest passion for literature, and Mobei-Jun can't / doesn't read.

There are lots of different potential reasons for this! Maybe Mobei-Jun is dyslexic. Maybe he desperately needs reading glasses and doesn't realize it. (Yes, maybe half of his glaring is just squinting.) Maybe his education was really bad because his family tried to murder him too many times. Maybe he just doesn't have any interest in fiction or in reading as a hobby in general, because paper / writing is rare in the Demon Realm for a variety of reasons and he's been busy building more relevant skills.

(Airplane Bro is shocked and offended, yes, but mostly because Mobei-Jun somehow successfully hid being unable to read from him for two or more decades. All of those "you read it" and "you write it" orders suddenly make so much sense.)

Another direction for "Mobei-Jun's relationship to media" that I've been enjoying lately as a premise is that Mobei-Jun is the sort of person who would have genuinely enjoyed "Proud Immortal Demon Way". But, like, in a weird way. Like, maybe Mobei-Jun isn't there for the women or the power fantasy, but he's fascinated by the cage of dissatisfaction, misery, and cruelty that the protagonist is building around himself using empty pleasures and merciless vengeance. Mobei-Jun is there for the tragedy. Everyone else in the comments section would think that he's a weirdo for different reasons, including Airplane Bro, but Mobei-Jun is (by accident) operating on a level where he sees the vision.

Alternate direction on "Mobei-Jun would like PIDW, actually": maybe he would like it because he actually loves trashy drama and stupid catfights. He's there for the comedy. He grew up in an environment where his father stole his uncle's wife and his own uncle tried to kill him multiple times, after all. In PIDW itself, right-hand man Mobei-Jun somehow successfully suffered years upon years of Luo Binghe's harem nonsense, and maybe Mobei-Jun was having the time of his life watching Sha Hualing start shit in the harem, actually!

Maybe in a Modern AU, Airplane Bro would try to sound intelligent and cultured by talking to his rich boss / boyfriend about classy literature, only to find out that Mobei-Jun basically only watches reality television competitions where people are constantly trying to tear each other's hair out for money. If people aren't screaming in each other's faces over a spilled glass of wine, throwing plates at each other over a stolen boyfriend or a ruined wedding, or backstabbing each other via wardrobe sabotage to get ahead, then Mobei-Jun is bored. Fighting matches or extremely dangerous sports are also fine, though, sure. (Airplane Bro doesn't like any of this stuff. He's a fantasy novel guy. He has no idea how to react to this.)

Another funny direction for "Mobei-Jun's relationship to media" is that maybe "Proud Immortal Demon Way" wouldn't actually be weird ENOUGH for Mobei-Jun's tastes. Maybe Mobei-Jun would be like that guy who claims "if I can guess the twist, then it's not suspense - suspense is when I don't know what's going to happen next, period" and reads long-running, amateur, foreign, abstract web-novels that he has to put through an online translator himself. Maybe in a Modern AU with this opinion, Mobei-Jun loyally watches telenovelas and Bollywood soap operas. Airplane Bro comes into the room and says, "Wow, not even any subtitles? You can understand what they're saying?" and Mobei-Jun says sincerely, "No. You have to figure out what's happening without them. This is the intended viewing experience."

[merakiui]

Would you make a list ranking which unique magics and they potentials are hottest to you 👀

👀 OMG YES???? Thank you for this opportunity, anon!!! I have so many thoughts about the unique magics!!

Here is my grand list:

1. Off With Your Head - this one is very self-explanatory. The control, the collar, the way it makes you unable to use your magic, Riddle’s sheer mastery over it and how he uses it so often in the game……. orz immensely hot to me.

2. Snake Whisper - the hypnosis and helplessness of the target paired with Jamil’s very obvious lust for power and control. The way we makes you call him master as well……. so yummy!!!

3. Dark Fire - no one understands Rollo’s charm more than I do. What do you mean his UM is fueled by the fear and distress of others, thus making it stronger?!?!?! OTL that has so much potential. I love it so much.

4. Shock the Heart - I would’ve placed this one lower only because it has so much appeal and yet it can only be used once on a person, but perhaps you can argue that makes it even hotter. Regardless, I love everything about Jade’s UM. The magical chant, the way you must look into his eye, the beautiful imagery the manga blessed us with… 😵‍💫 being forced to tell the truth no matter what…….

5. Laugh With Me - another one that’s so great for control. Ruggie’s UM would be so great for (forced) mutual masturbation. But also,,, it has the potential to be used in such horrifying ways. >:)

6. Split Card - clones. Gangbang. Need I say anymore?

7. Doodle Suit - I like the mind games that can come from this. Not knowing what’s your reality and what’s fantasy whenever Trey uses his UM is so hot. T^T I NEED HIM.

8. Fae of Maleficence - I think it’s more so the overwhelming power and horrifying range of this UM that makes it so attractive. Malleus is terrifyingly strong and this UM always reminds me of that, amongst other moments in the plot. In Idia’s words, truly a final boss.

9. Life is Fun - Fellow’s UM………. WOW. Maybe it deserves to be higher on the list, but because I’ve yet to officially experience Fellow in the game I will place it within this humble top ten. :D even so, it has too much potential and I love it.

10. It’s a Deal - hear me out……. this is such an overpowered UM and it’s all Azul’s to use (and abuse) as he pleases. Having such a dangerous UM where, if not for the contract, he would be more susceptible to overblot. AAAAAAA HE’S SO FINE. The UM chant is amazing, tako’s greed, the amount of powers he can build up because there seems to be no limit to the amount of contracts he makes!!! So hot to me. <3

11. Fairest One of All - Vil’s UM…… the ability to place a curse on anything that can’t be lifted until the conditions are met. AAAAAA SO MUCH POTENTIAL. OTL

12. I See You - this one is frightening but very on brand for Rook Hunt. ^^;;;; it makes stalking darling so much easier, but something tells me Rook wouldn’t use his UM because it defeats the thrill of hunting darling himself.

13. Meet in a Dream - this one is more whimsical than it is hot, but it still has plenty of potential because dreams can be anything and everything. There’s never any logic to them. Also,,, I love the idea of darling constantly seeing a silver-haired prince in their dreams. The dream sex surely goes crazy. :)

14. King’s Roar - it’s so powerful omg,,, more so that than it is hot. The only circumstance I can think of in which it’s hot is if Leona’s using it to turn all of your clothes to sand, but why would he need magic for that when he can easily take them off himself. ;D

15. Sleep Kiss - Epel’s UM is so dainty and Victorian to me. The glass coffin…… that’s so pretty. orz the way it also puts you to sleep,,, somno with Epel?!?!?!

16. Bind the Heart - I’m sorry the ranking is so low, Floyb. >_< it’s another UM that’s very good in a fight. I like it a lot, especially the way he says it hehe.

17. Far Cry Cradle - this one is very interesting!! I absolutely see the vision with it. Just not a lot of horny vision, unless it’s a scenario where he casts it on your sex toy or something just to play that memory back. >:3c

18. Unleash Beast - this one is so cute to me. Jack turning into a wolf is adorable. OTL thinking about how mesmerized the kids must be if and when he uses his UM back home. How exciting it is to climb up on his back and be carried around everywhere. :D I just think it’s very sweet.

19. Bet the Limit - this is great for fighting, but for things other than that,,,, but I do love how strong it is. Deuce’s UM is so cool. >w<

20. Oasis Maker - I AM SO SORRY, KALIM….. T^T I love his UM. I think it’s so fun!! Alas, it isn’t very hot in that sense to me. However, there are so many other aspects to Kalim that make him so wonderful hehe.

21. Gate to Underworld - it was incredibly attractive in book six. That sort of power,,,, sometimes I wonder what would have happened if Idia and Ortho were successful in resetting the world. Outside of book six, the UM loses a few aura points. STYX Idia will forever be famous to me.

22. Living Bolt - apologies in advance to Sebek. His UM is so cool!!!! Just,,, not the hottest of UMs. WAAAA I’M SORRY, SEBEK!!!! OTL

[aggieharkness]

And in her arms, she cradled your heart Chp. 3

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x reader

Summary: if I ever lose you, lay me down beside you, as your presence was my life, and not having you in my arms will be my death. Dress me in your kisses and throw roses at my feet, for if I don't wake from this nightmare to your bright eyes loving me I don't wish to draw breath anymore.

Warnings: smut (+18), affair, oral (Lilia receiving), fingering (Lilia receiving), tit play, nightmares, mention of blood, storms, fluff, angst/comfort, pregnancy, age gap, magical conception.

Author's note: I'm back!!! I have risen from the dead and escaped the claws of academic life to drop this new chapter. I hope you all like it, and there is a reason why there are no dialogues whatsoever. Special shout-out to @bravewithacapitalb for being my Beta Reader and my medical advisor for this whole project. You are an angel. Please, do tell me how it looks, if you like it or if there are things I need to change. I accept constructive criticism, and if there's anything you might want to see in this story, don't hesitate to ask, I'll add it to the best extent I can. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Lilia Calderu, and Jac for writing her so beautifully.

Chp. 1 Chp. 2

Word count: 15K

Night breezes seem to whisper, "I love you"

It was odd with how much ease the crystal-clear skies had filled with clouds. The dark, calm veil of the night had been turned into a sea of thunder and lightning that ripped through the air in booming sounds that made the ground rumble. Their eclectic shapes and sharp edges sliced through the clouds, casting such bright lights high up in the sky that one would think it was morning already, but it was far from it. The loss of power all throughout that city was witness to the shadows that paraded through the streets when there was no sign of lightning in the sky. Pillars of buildings and houses shook under the strength of the thunder, a scream or two escaping mouths at the sudden noise, but they were drowned, forgotten, under the splendour of mother nature.

At moments like this gentle tendrils of sage magic snaked around your limbs like silks that caressed your skin. Rain poured hard onto the ground, hitting the glass by the front door and the windows with such force that you had feared for a moment they might break, letting the cold air inside the house, but the thought vanished as if the raindrops were washing over you, falling on your skin in a perfect rhythm that matched your heart. There was no moon, no light that could bathe the room, but you weren’t scared of the creatures that hid in the darkness, their piercing eyes stalking, waiting to be let in; those beings lived in the depths of your mind and as real as they seemed to you, they were nothing but dust this time around. They could not claw their way out of your mind to haunt you and chase you, to make you feel terror and to make all those doubts that had rendered you almost speechless only a few hours ago real before your eyes.

They had tried though, and the last echoes of a nightmare you could not remember were beginning to dissipate with the rain. The only lingering image that was becoming blurrier with each passing second was that of Lilia lying in bed, pretty much like she was right now, her chest rising and falling in steady breaths under the covers, but her pristine nightgown had been a sea of blood and tears that still made you shake from your position by the kitchen window. You could smell it, that metallic stench that was engraved in the back of your mind, and yet the truth was that she was perfectly alright, sleeping peacefully. Another lightning strike sliced through the sky, filling the room for an instant with a bright white halo that granted you a moment, a second in time, to see her perfect face.

Every inch of her olive-kissed skin was a fantasy for you, a forbidden fruit that you could not keep your eyes off, following the small wrinkles on her forehead whenever she frowned, might it be in frustration or concentration, that now were non-existent in the calmness of her slumber, the shape of her long dark lashes resting over her cheeks, those deep brown eyes of hers hidden behind her eyelids, your heart yearning every minute of every day to get lost in them. Every glance you got from them, every moment when she rested her gaze upon your frame or locked eyes with yours you felt as if the world had stopped spinning, the universe still as the breath in your lungs hitched. You drowned every single time in them. A sea of melted chocolate that enfolded you and held you as you felt your body fall down the abyss of her mind, every thought and memory laying bare before you as you drank her in, the calmness of her nature, feeling every sensation as if you were her.

It was dizzying, even now, to imagine yourself in that position, so close to her that you could feel the heat emanating from her body as you got lost in her big doe eyes that hid nothing from you. The shape of her nose was next in this journey you were making, elongated, slightly curved, and with the hint of a bump near the bridge. It wasn’t the usual button-like nose that every girl wished for, Lilia’s had personality, a beauty in itself that you adored with every fibre of your being, a glimpse into certain Mediterranean traits that you held dear in your heart. She had a nose that reminded you of your ancestors, of people you had cherished deeply until their very last days, people that you could only now visit through pictures in an old album that rested in a drawer under the telly. To a certain extent, and as weird as you were aware it sounded, every time you saw it, it reminded you of home.

Every little thing she did reminded you of home. Her citrusy perfume took you back to the field of orange blossoms and summer by the coast, the way her hands moved with every single word she said as if that could give her speech a more emphatic aura as if the message could be understood better. People gave her strange looks whenever you were in public, but to you, it’s a most endearing quality that you wished she’d never lose. The light had grown dimmer as your eyes had moved to her cheeks, a rosy pearly tint over her skin that she had been carrying with her for weeks now, that glow that everyone talked about, you suppose, when a lady became with child. Either way, it enthralled you and captured your eyes before they moved on to her lips.

They were slightly parted, a thin line separating them as the plump flesh glistened under the last few instants of light, her lip balm adding a gentle translucent cherry tone to them. You had memorised the feeling of the soft flesh deep within your mind every single time you had shared a kiss, the taste of her a continuous lingering flavour on your taste buds, those rich honey tones that dripped thickly onto your mouth with each breath that ghosted over your lips, the sweetness sending a rush through your body every time, without fail. She breathed life into your lungs whenever she brushed them against yours, a smile creeping up when you weren’t looking as she observed how you worked when you sat on the grass sketching bumblebees that floated lazily in between the flowers. Smirks were also one of her best features, her lips curling lopsided whenever she snickered, whenever she tried to tempt you, your body falling under her spell without a fight.

That mouth of hers was heavenly as much as it was sinful and every word that fell from her rosy lips seemed to always be laced with love and care, truths that she could not hide, would not hide. You were almost as taken by them as her eyes. You could not tear your gaze away when she spoke, watching how they moved, how her teeth bit down gently on her lower lip when she was busy doing tarot readings, her full attention on the cards, the way she murmured chants when she prepared altars and spells, hypnotised at most. But it was when they were pressed against your skin, on the crook of your neck, that you adored them the most, when she whispered sweet nothings as if your flesh would suddenly appear tattooed with them, forever engraved on your body for the world to see. It was maddening to think about those things when they rested slightly ajar in peaceful slumber before you.

The room was filled with darkness once more, but your eyes had adjusted well to the lack of light, and in the safety of the shadows, leaves, and branches waying under the force of the rainfall, it was as if you could still see her, clear as day, laying on your bed. There were small freckles painted all over her body, constellations that had fallen from the firmament and become flesh, the depths and secrets of the universe written in every inch of skin that you had ever cherished and kissed. You had followed them like a castaway in search of water, drinking in every story that was reflected on her flesh, every scar and wound that your lips had kissed, almost as if the memories attached could be soothed by that simple action. No matter how many times you looked at her perfect face it was as if beauty had just been presented to you, a Venus that walked the Earth, running away from the canvas where she belonged.

Just a second later thunder roared high above your heads, the walls and windows shaking at the terrorizing sound, but Lilia didn’t stir, the emotions of the day having drained her completely, or that’s what you thought. In truth, she had been awake since you had got up, the sudden chill on her side and the feeling of your weight lifting off the bed calling her from Morpheus arms back down to Earth. She would have sat in bed and asked you what was wrong, but she sensed that you needed to be left to your own thoughts this time, even if she missed having your arms around her waist. She made no attempt to move or even open her eyes, but she could feel your loving gaze on her as the sound of the rain filled her half-asleep head, almost lulling her back into those dreams that had slipped through her fingers, and she could not recall anymore.

Your fingers ached to touch her, to feel that ever so soft flesh under your palms but you could not bring yourself to do so, afraid you might disturb her. When she was asleep there was no danger of gaps or visions overtaking her mind, pausing her life, even if it was for a moment, leaving her confused and upset in most cases, when she was asleep there was a whole world just for Lilia where there was no pain, no past, present or future haunting her every waking moment, only what her subconscious wanted. Dreams that you had many times wondered what they were, and if you were in them. If only you knew that every single one of them was shaped around, you. It did not matter the scenery; it could be a cottage in the English countryside, roses growing tall in the garden with an archway of violet wisterias making way to the blue wooden front door where a brass hand worked as the knocker, tall magnolia trees swaying in the chilly breeze.

Or a small house in Siracusa, surrounded by water, lost in between cliffs of sandy tones as the outside of the house lay filled with plumerias and emerald green grass that flourished around the property, getting lost in the horizon. She could almost smell the salty breeze when she dreamt of it, and she could almost make out the sound of the small sparrows and see the seagulls tracing the outlines of the coast, letting her entire being be dragged deeply into those dreams that took her back home. The sound of the waves against the rocks still lingered in the back of her mind, calling out to her like sirens that wished for her to return to sleep, but curiosity peeked as she felt your eyes on her, and she fought against them to remain awake. Still, they swirled in between her thoughts like lazy fish that swam in between seaweed.

They left the taste of homemade coffee on her tongue, the floral perfume that mixed with the salty air filling her lungs as she stood on the edge of the cliff. Every single time she found herself there, barefoot, a deep navy dress embracing her figure as the breeze made it twirl around her legs, the warm sun bathing her skin with gentle beams in a way that she hadn’t felt in centuries. In those moments, safely tucked in the depths of her brain, she could live the life she had always dreamt of, no death or pain, only the sound of the sea and the feeling of the sun. And then, stepping out of the small villa you would appear, breaking her gaze from the sea before her, its deep blue waters crashing and swirling underneath the cliffs, your hair glowing under the bright golden light of day, your eyes shining as they locked with hers, a simple white dress draped over your body like strings of pearls on your alabaster skin.

Part of her knew that it wasn’t real, but her breath still hitched in her lungs at the sight, the grass under her feet soft and cool against the warm breeze as she made her way to you, hands reaching for hands, lips begging for lips. Your skin always felt the same, soft under her palms, fingers interlacing in a grasp that she never wanted to let go of, your perfume overtaking everything else in her lungs. Dreams are such wonderful things and yet whenever her subconscious wakes up and the coast vanishes into a white fog, your face is the last thing that Lilia’s mind remembers before it all turns into smoke but there is no sorrow for what she had lost. When she opens her eyes the first thing she sees is you and all those moments shared in faraway places, the kisses that she could almost feel against her lips are still there, real in a special way, her eyes lingering on your peacefully sleeping form right beside her.

If only you truly knew what went on in her sleep. You would slip into her dreams with the ease of sitting in a chair to have a cup of coffee, highly doubting you would ever want to wake up, but those fantasies were hers to keep, secrets that she didn’t need to share with anyone but herself. In the darkness of the room the last few sounds of waves mixed with the storm in Lilia’s mind, the rumbling of the thunder startling her and causing her body to jerk slightly, maybe an inch, on the bed, but her eyes remained closed. She had a feeling you had her exactly where you wanted her, and she was curious to see why it was so. Your hands rested on the kitchen counter knowing that the darkness that had the entire city trapped in its claws protected your greedy eyes, roaming over her face one more time even if you could only make out the shape of her profile. In those two years you had been with her you had made it your mission to memorise her, to engrave her entire body with fire in your brain, every wrinkle above her upper lip, all the tiny, almost invisible freckles that were sprinkled on her skin, the lines around and under her eyes from centuries of both happiness and sadness pulling the strings of your heart tenderly every time she smiled.

She had never tried to look younger; she knew how old she was, and it was never in her mind to hide it, after all, time passes for everyone and she was no exception, she simply let nature reach the point in life where she felt most comfortable in and stayed like that. Time brought wisdom along with it and it was unavoidable to add age to that mix. Lilia wasn’t one to let her looks guide her existence, there had been many other things that had worried her far more than her looks. But every sign reflected on her body that spoke about how she wasn’t a beautiful young girl anymore weighted heavily sometimes on her shoulders, the passing of the centuries leaving an imprint that nothing could erase. Your eyes kissed every spot that she had ever felt insecure about, your lips cherished the marks time had left behind, from scars to wrinkles, wishing to show her what words could not make justice to. Every inch of her body was as perfect as was her messy mind, as was her velvety voice and her caring words.

She had worried that the age gap might cause trouble, that you would not understand her, that her kookiness mixed with the half a millennium that she carried in her bones would make you change your mind at the slightest opportunity, but every morning she woke up in your arms, your breath warm against her shoulder blades she convinced herself a little bit more that you weren’t going to leave. You had seen her at her worst, screaming in terror as her visions took over her mind, tears burning her cheeks in despair and yet you had stayed, comforted her, held her and whispered sweet nothings to sooth her. You had taken care of her in those moments when she dissociated for hours, making sure she was never cold and ensuring she stayed hydrated even if Lilia’s reflexes were slow and taking a single sip of water was a herculean task. Still, you stayed. Every day you stayed by her, woke up and went to be with her in your arms, laughed at her jokes, cooked and cuddled on the couch to watch Colombo or Murder, She Wrote, and every time she glanced at you the small bubble of doubts and fears that had claimed her heart the moment you had agreed to go out with her, would become smaller and smaller.

To you, she could be five thousand years old, and you would still love her no matter what, through thick and thin, in sickness and in health until death do you part. The sound of the clock ticking on the wall was drowned by the even heavier rain that poured outside, the water drops slamming against the glass causing you to turn around and watch mesmerised by the way it fell over the trees and flowers, flooding the grass but never reaching the kitchen door. It seemed as if the weather was angry, furious at the world, but you could not understand as to why, everything had been calm only a couple of hours ago, balanced, and now it was as if something was off, but it had nothing to do with you or Lilia. A flash of red crossed your mind, thick blood that dripped over the window for an instant before your eyes blinked and the crimson liquid turned back to crystal clear rain, your senses spiking only to quiet down again. Just as quickly as it had happened it was gone along with the feeling that something was wrong.

Perhaps those little creatures that plagued your mind were not as controlled as you thought. A quiet ruffling of fabric startled you, causing you to turn around to see Lilia turning on her side, sitting down on the bed as the covers fell in slow waves of her body, coming to gather around her hips, a strap from her white nightgown falling off her shoulder. You had not heard it, but a frightened gasp had escaped your lips at the sight of the blood, a hallucination you could not understand, and the gentle lazy curiosity that had wrapped around Lilia’s body had snapped quickly at the sound, worry filling her chest. You hadn’t even realised the way you heart had sped up for a few instants. Her curls framed her face, ringlets that caressed her cheeks, draping over her exposed shoulders in a veil of peppery curls that suited her and matched her dark eyes, contrasting with the pearly shade of her gown. Both her hands were pressed firmly on the mattress even if she was sitting on her side observing you, holding your gaze amongst the shadows of the room.

Another bout of lightning sliced through the sky, white beams breaking in and bathing the room once more even if it only lasted a few seconds. The way it had enveloped Lilia’s frame in a mix of pearly white and pink hues, making her skin glow in a halo of beauty and magic had your breath hitched in your lungs, her eyes glistening for less than an instant under the light with a calm but worried look, asking without uttering a word. You could not help but take in the flesh that was exposed to the night air, her neckline long, creamy, and soft as your fingers twitched in need, small wrinkles and freckles hand painted with all the care and perfection of an artist, no necklace that kept her skin from your lips, an obstacle most days when all you wanted to do was kiss her senseless. She was not one to show off that much skin, her shoulders only dressed in thin straps, at least one of them, the other completely bare for your hungry eyes to feast on.

With each breath you took your body separated from the counter, taking slow steps towards her and Lilia simply waited for you to reach her. Beauty marks danced on her flesh, sprawled over her chest, plunging deep in between her breasts, over her shoulders and down her arms, spots on the back of her veiny hands, one of the marks that you loved the most. They were small, nearly invisible to the naked eye, but you knew every inch of her, and even as the light faded, and the room became bathed in darkness once more you could trace, and pint point to every single one as if your life depended on it. She was your lifeline, your protector and your saviour, and as your steps got you closer to the bed your thoughts pushed the last remnants of the nightmare and the hallucination to the back of your mind so only one could remain. She was not only the most important woman you had ever met, the one that carried your heart and loved you, with all your virtues and faults, but she was now also the mother of your child as well, and seeing her sitting there, so innocent, waiting for you to tell her what was wrong you felt your heart melt.

No number of nightmares, of tears shed by your subconscious as Lilia laid in bed in her own world of fear and despair, your hands cradling her face in hopes of making everything right again, of taking her pain and making it yours so she would not suffer even if your heart was bleeding just as much, could compare to reality. They were just images that your own mind created to cope with the fear and terror of this new chapter in life, those horrible creatures that crawled inside your own head making everything ten times worse but Lilia was right there, her head slightly tilted to the side as her breasts spilled ever so slightly from the neckline of her nightgown, the lace cupping them tenderly. There was an irrational need to feel her under your palms, for your thoughts to realise that this, was in fact, reality and not just some fear-induced pantomime that would soon turn into horror.

Your knees collided gently with the edge of the mattress, and your hands, that had been writhing and toying in anxiety with the hem of your shirt, laid firmly on the bed now, guiding you in the dark as you climbed over the bedsheets towards her. What if everything had been but a dream? A desire so deep to be something more with Lilia, to take a bigger step and create something meaningful and beautiful with her that your own brain had tricked you in your sleep? She could almost feel the wheels turning in your head, the way your body trembled with the doubts and worry in that unique way of yours that she had grown accustomed to. And yet she did not move. Her deep eyes held your gaze as best they could in the dark, the sound of the rain fading to the background as your body got closer to her, your fingers brushing over hers accidentally, a motion that sent sparks up your arms, that sweet electricity that you could never get enough of. Her golden mixed perfectly with your sage, and that simple feeling, her skin warm and soft under your fingertips, assured you that this was as real as the moon, the starts, the sun and everything that surrounded you both. She was as real as the cold rain that fell outside, as the morning mist that bathed petals and leaves alike, small gentle drops that scurried down the smooth surfaces as the sun travelled higher in the sky until they fell and collapsed against the ground. Real as the bird songs that accompanied dawn and bid farewell at dusk, as real as the hands that cradled her face and the feeling of her warm cheeks under your palms. How could your entire world have shrunk to the size of the woman sitting in bed?

She was the most important being in your existence, she had been for two whole years and you still could not fully comprehend the fact that she was yours and you were hers, a whole eternity before you to live beside her, to cherish and hold her and love her until there was not a single speck of air left in you. Your thumbs rubbed her skin softly, fingertips pushing solitary peppery ringlets away from her face as her breath became a bit more hurried, her bosom heavy under the white lace, her hands unmoving from where they laid over the covers. How had life granted you such a gift, a prize in a competition you hadn’t even realised you had assigned to, that day you had crossed her threshold the sweetest memory, the smell of incense and vanilla still vivid in your mind, the house now filled with herbs and citrusy aromas that floated in between chairs and shelves and that lingered on Lilia’s skin? Rich like spices, sublime like honey, and deep, so very deep and intoxicating as the perfect wine. She called to you with her eyes, with the way her lips parted ever so slightly as if she wanted to whisper a thousand secrets to you, and yet not a sound came out, only the feeling of her hot breath ghosting over your nose and mouth as your body bend forward slowly never steering your eyes from hers, letting her thoughts travel and dance among yours in a calming ritual.   

She saw your pain, your anguish as the last few blurry images of your nightmare fought to stay, to haunt you and break you inch by inch, and as the sensations wrapped around her, your mind pleaded to be released of such burdens. You didn’t want to think of her bleeding, crying as the child you both wanted and loved so much already parted from her body before its time, and you did try to keep that image away from her, not wanting to scare her or even terrify her, but she had pushed through, and you couldn’t help but give in. They played on a loop, your fingers digging on the side of her face hoping that it would not unsettle her, bring forth worries that she had not voiced as the news of the child she would in a few months’ time bring into the world sunk in, her own mind comprehending her current situation but her body didn’t shaky, unlike yours, the touch of her fingertips against your knees reassuring, grounding. Golden tendrils pushed them away, love and care melting them until there was nothing left but her comforting presence in your head, no more blood, no more lingering sounds of tears and sobs, no more thoughts of loss and grief. Breathing deeply as the grip of terror released you, your lungs filled with her perfume, clinging to her skin almost as if it was part of her, the sharp tinges of oranges and lemons cutting through the air and filling your body with her essence.

Lilia knew how it felt to have demons chasing her, clawing at her at every waking moment, making her weak until she could only kneel on the floor in despair, and although you were no stranger to pain, she didn’t want you to suffer what she knew so well. You held her gaps and vision at bay whenever you were with her, loving her, whispering in her ear, and kissing her sorrows until they vanished into the ether; she was well accomplished on many branches of magic and dominating and transforming thoughts was one of them. The chaos that had unravelled in your mind stood still now, only silence in between your thoughts. Slowly Lilia had threaded her golden strings with yours, connecting each other as your own mind fought against you and now that your thoughts were tranquil, lazily floating around, you could feel her deep within you as the downpour happening outside became barely audible to either of you with each passing second.  

Her face was barely inches from yours and yet she made no effort to move from your grasp, the touch of her hands brushing your naked knees, your thumbs tracing the shape of her cheekbone before moving down to her lips, plump, quiet. Her hot breath teased the skin of your hand, but her eyes never left yours, not for a single instant, not even when the touch of your fingers travelled over her lower lip, smearing her balm. With barely time to think you pulled her towards you, crashing your mouth against hers in what started out as a gentle tender kiss to ground yourself, to put a final end to the questions that had overwhelmed you only a few moments ago, her body firm and hot under your palms, her lips soft and impossibly sweet, your tongue tracing and pushing gently against her mouth. She granted you access without a fight, willing to give you whatever you so desperately craved after what you had seen.

She could have reassured you that it was not real, that everything would be fine, but it would have been futile, her words would have been brushed off as just that, words; you were someone who craved actions who believed that hands holding hands could do much more than a reassurance spoken in hushed tones, at least in these situations. Lilia though, was the opposite; she thrived in hearing you say that everything would work out, she held onto your every word as if they carried the meaning of the universe and you had both established an understanding that not many people would agree with. You only needed her, her body, her skin touching yours, her aroma and her steady breaths while she needed your understanding nature, your soothing loving whispers and all that went along with it. Thunder rumbled closer to the house, the windows rattling against the sound but to you both it was more of a soft noise in the background, hardly audible and therefore barely disturbing.

As Lilia’s lips parted your motions became more frantic, perhaps even needy, your tongue battling hers, tracing the outline of her teeth as your hands held onto her face a little bit more harshly pulling her even closer and holding her against you. The action, surprising, an air of control and desperation tainting every one of your movements caused a surprised quiet yelp to escape her but just as your lips clumsily parted from hers to bite down on her lower lip it melted into a moan that vibrated up her throat. It was hardly pain that Lilia felt, but the sudden discomfort as your canines left an imprint on her swollen lips sent shivers down her spine, delightfully drawing her completely awake, every one of her senses spiking as the darkness that enfolded the room, not even the flicker of a candle visible, made the feeling of your hands on her a most divine and maddening sensation. It was odd how easily a simple action such as the touch of your thumb over her jawline or your fingers brushing her curls off her shoulder to expose her neck would send her into overdrive. Part of her thought that maybe she should stop you, and talk with you about the nightmare but the logical part of her, the one that knew you and could read you like an open book, spoke to her in a reasonable manner.

You needed her, and she would willingly give herself to you, every inch of her being, come rain or fog, hailstorms or earthquakes. Her body responded to your touch, aching for more than just tender brushes of your fingers, and as your thumb traced her lower lip once more Lilia’s hands travelled up your thighs, coming to rest on your hips but she didn’t pull you closer, simply let the feeling of the bare skin of your midriff under her palms satiate the ever-growing need she had for you, at least for the moment. A gasp nearly fell from your lips, but it never made its way out, your mouth falling in desperate kisses over the soft flesh of her jaw, a happy hum vibrating from her chest in approval. With each kiss a spark of electricity met your lips, shocking and yet delicious, not only her body luring you in, making you fall off the edge to kneel before her, cherish her and drink in her every move, her every sound and noise as if she was the only thing you needed to live, her skin your Bible, her body the only path you would ever walk, her every wrinkle a crossroad in which you would love to get lost on forever.

Sweet as honey and soft as silk her skin made you dizzy as with each kiss you journeyed down to her neck, that creamy column delicious as you licked, teeth scraping the flesh leaving red angry marks behind, but you never drew blood, not this time. A whimper echoed inside the room, falling from her parted lips as the grip on your hips became harder, the need to touch you and press you against her growing almost as quickly as the arousal that was burning through every cell. With a gentle lick you soothed the mark before continuing, tender pecks making up for the pain, not that Lilia minded. Lilia felt the way your fingers threaded through her curls, twirling without pulling, your other hand tracing the shape of her neck and chest, fingering the neckline of her gown. Lightning snapped high up in the sky, ripping the stillness of the clouds in sharp lines that bathed the room in white and pink, perhaps even a hue of purple that contrasted with Lilia’s skin and clothes, though you were unbothered by it.

There was no need for light, your lips knowing perfectly well where to go to draw out lustful gasps from her, to make her hands shoot out to hold you in place, but it was beautiful to see that gentle pink hue painting her cheeks fading as her gown covered her body, hiding it from your hungry sight. Her brown eyes remained on your form for a few moments adoring the way you worshipped her, closing as your kisses reached the hollow of her neck, savouring the way she melted under your tongue, tastebuds drunk in the sweetness of her skin, completely lost as her chest rose and fell in fast breaths. Divine Mother, you just could not get enough of her, lips kissing and licking the swells of her breasts, your face moving with each breath she took, the grip on your hips almost bruising, but you needed more, you needed to have her underneath you writhing in passion, holding onto you as her world exploded in pleasure, remaining real under your touch.

The simple feeling of your fingers on the neckline of her dressing gown had sent a jolt of pleasure down to her core, her breasts heavy and ever so sensitive, now understanding that it was due to the pregnancy, but when your lips had made contact, kisses tender and gentle, your tongue brushing softly over her skin, she had not been able to prevent a moan from escaping her mouth, the sensations so deep that Lilia’s body temperature suddenly rose several degrees, fire coursing through her veins. Of course, the reaction had not gone unnoticed by you, remembering that Lilia hadn’t been able to use her lacy bras due to being incredibly oversensitive to the touch, a sign that should have given it all away really. With one last peck, you pulled away, watching how she had her head lulled back ever so slightly, eyes closed while her mouth remained ajar, her flesh flushed. Even in the dark, you could feel the heat of her body against your cooler body, the light of the storm having faded a few minutes before, encasing you both in shadows that burned in lust, that drove your mind into a hunger for her that filled your mind with a crazy haze.

But your hands were still kind against her body, fingers pushing her peppery ringlets to her back as your other hand followed the lace of the neckline towards the strap that held the nightgown up around her body. As the pads of your fingertips caressed the skin under the thin string goosebumps rose all over Lilia’s body, watching mesmerised the way your hand pushed it off her shoulder, the flowy fabric of her gown moving like water over the shape of her breasts, lace brushing over her nipples as the straps slid down her arms, a gasp reaching your ears like an angels song, the material gathering around her waist, leaving her perfect upper body bare for your greedy eyes to devour, sinful thoughts filling your head as her arms moved to be released from the gown. The worry and terror that had taken you hostage was barely a memory, Lilia’s hands holding onto yours as much as her magic kept your chaotic mind at ease.

Bare before you all you wanted to do was bury your face in between her breasts and never let go but then again you would not see the ecstasy in her eyes, the love and pleasure that poured out of them like rivers of dark chocolate that overwhelmed your tongue and drove your mouth to taste her with renewed fervour, and you most certainly wanted to hold her gaze as you brought her to the edge and back, accompanying as she fell into the abyss of pleasure and passion that you had brought back into her life. The sight was simple divine, sublime as your eyes raked over her form with very little discretion, devouring every inch of the now exposed skin as if you had never seen it before. Without support her bosom sagged a little but that didn’t deter you from bending forward and placing soft kisses on the top of each breast, your lips casting featherlike touches on her skin that sent her mind reeling. Perhaps you were teasing her, she thought, but the look of utter devotion in your eyes proved otherwise as you sat on the heels of your feet to observe the way that gorgeous blush of hers had made its way down her chest and into the valley between her breasts, hidden underneath her ample bosom that rose and fell with each breath, taunting and desperate for your touch.

Noticing how lost you were in your own dreams and ideas of what you would do to her she took the next step for you and grabbed the hands that rested on top of her thighs, covered by her nightgown and blanket, and brought them to her waist, a little bit higher if you were being honest. The back of your hands brushed the soft skin underneath her bosom, sending a shiver down your spine that matched the goosebumps on Lilia’s skin, swollen lips parted as she tried to push air into her lungs. The way her body molded to your hands, to your tender touch around her ribcage, was grounding, feeling her heat, scorching your fingers though you never wanted to let go, the rush of blood in her veins, the way her magic bubbled under her flesh like rivers of gold. A little voice inside your head wondered if maybe you should try to explain why the sudden need to have her but as much as you parted your lips to speak nothing came out.

There was no need though. Lilia understood, your silence confirmation that that nightmare had shaken you to your core more than she had realised, and as her eyes raked over your perfect face, hating the way your eyebrows furrowed as you flagellated yourself for not being able to voice your fears and worries, she took matters into her own hands. She would take care of you for the time being, until you were ready to regain control. Her movements were slow, and deliberate as she traced the shape of your forearms with her fingers, trails of fire left behind as her hands held onto your upper arms and shoulders. It came naturally to her to care for others and as the minutes clocked by, the storm showing no signs of stopping, it was easy to want to comfort and love you, her touch kind and gentle as she cradled your face in her hands, drawing you closer until your face was barely an inch from hers. Your life had changed completely in a matter of hours, a whole new future displayed before you as if you could choose, as if Lilia’s well-being and happiness rested in the palm of your hands, but it was an illusion.

You didn’t have that kind of power, and it terrified you to think how different things would be, that dangers you had never even thought of were now your worst enemies, terrors and monsters that could in the blink of an eye take her and your baby from you. A single tear fell down your cheek, bitter and cold against your skin and it took you both and her by surprise, not thinking that this fear ran so deep within you, afraid that her solid body would fade into nothing under your palms. It broke Lilia’s heart to see you so lost, worry painting your features when only a minute before lust had cast shadows over your face. The lonely crystal drop was wiped by her thumb, the gesture comforting in a way that you could not describe, the feeling of her breath on your lips assuring you that she was alive and well and that she would remain so for as long as she could, a peppery curl escaping from behind her ear and coming to caress your cheek, the softness of her hair a perfect companion to her caring touch.

Having her so close you could count the freckles on the tip of her nose felt as if you had both feet firmly planted on the ground all of a sudden, whiffs of lavender from her shampoo clouding your mind in an exquisite fog that stopped the shaking of your trembling frame. In slow motion the gap between you vanished and the instant her lips landed softly over yours your entire world melted on her tongue, her fingers ripping from your veins the terror that was festering in your blood, with each caress. She didn’t ask for your parted lips to grant her more than what you could give, never begging and never pushing, letting you feel her as deeply as possible, her presence in your mind like a warm bath after a long day, removing your pains and aches as the heat of the water surrounds one’s body. You felt the way you sagged against her touch a little, your hands sliding down to her naked waist as her lips barely separated from yours. Thunder roared all around you but neither of you reacted to the loud rumbling noise, barely audible as your ears filled with the sound of your blood pumping through your veins, throughout your system in rushed beats that fought against your ribcage.

Lilia’s fingers never lifted from your skin, not once, as she unbuttoned your shirt, the cotton fabric opening slowly to reveal miles of creamy skin, her doe eyes raking over your figure as if you were the most exquisite thing in the universe. It still caught you by surprise the way her gaze could be so wild, and unabashed when she observed you while also carrying that veil of love and adoration you thought only you felt for her. It was breathtaking to say the least. Inch by inch a sea of alabaster flesh became exposed to the dark of the night, her hands resting over your hips as she took you in, pulling you closer to her until your chests were barely a few inches from each other. The heat of her body surprised you as it radiated of her and collided with your cooler frame, and for a moment you wondered if she had a fever or if she was going to combust in your hands, flames burning and scorching your hands but even then you would never let go. You would be consumed by fire with her for all eternity if that meant remaining by her side.

Finally, skin came into contact with skin, Lilia’s nipples, stiff and slightly enlarged, brushing against your chest as her hands did quick work of your shirt, pushing it from your shoulders until it rested on top of the mattress, your hands having to let go of her for an instant so you could escape the garment. It was torture to not feel her firmly beneath your palms, her softness the most exquisite caviar in the world, rich like brandy, sweet like wine, and so utterly intoxicating that it left you dizzy when she took the chance and pulled you hard against her, your hands flying around her shoulders to stabilise yourself. A gasp had fallen from your lips, sliding down Lilia’s chest and hiding between her breasts almost as if a string of diamonds had graced her flesh, but you hadn’t realised, lost in the way her heart beat beneath her ribs. You could feel it pounding at a steady rhythm, strong, brave, and powerful and with each beat your anxiety vanished a little bit more, your brain understanding for the first time tonight that she was alive, your mind comprehending at last that it all had been a product of your overtired imagination.

True, it had hurt more than words could ever explain, the sorrow and despair at seeing Lilia in that position while not being able to do a thing to help her, take her pain away and return to how things were before, slicing through your heart over and over, bleeding inside your chest, the tears that had fallen from your eyes bitter and venomous to the point where you had felt your own flesh decaying and rotting in grief, but it had only been in your head. There hadn’t been blood on the bed, nor screams and pleas for help, no death claiming your love and snatching her and your beloved child from your grasp with a cruel, brutal smile. The remnants of your nightmare were nothing more than a memory of feelings and sensations now that Lilia had worked her magic to vanish the images from your mind, but you knew very well that even though it no longer resided in your head, the feelings would still haunt you, driving you into a minor insanity every night if she wasn’t there to calm it all.

With her in your arms, basking in the heat of her flesh and the puffs of breath that ghosted over your neck as her lips kissed the soft skin, your mind became blank, not a thought in sight. Maybe Lilia was aiding you in forgetting, on living the present and letting go of the past, or maybe it was you who preferred to give yourself to the feeling of her, solid and real, beneath your touch, either way you were grateful that the terror was transforming back into a visceral need to become one with Lilia, the feeling of want clawing its way back to your heart. Your fingers twisted her curls lazily, brushing them away from her naked shoulder as her head moved underneath your jaw, your nails leaving angry marks over her perfect skin as a hiss escaped her mouth and collided with the crook of your neck, vibrations travelling down to your bones. That gifted tongue of hers licked the sensitive skin around your pulse point, savouring the slightly spicy tinges that lingered on your body from your gel and lotion, maddening on her taste buds as her craving for you increased exponentially.

The grip you had on her shoulder hardened, nails digging into her skin in an almost in a painful manner, but that didn’t stop her from sucking lightly and drawing out a moan from deep within your chest. Without you even noticing your body pressed harder against hers hoping she would double on her efforts, but it only caused her to stop, her frame shivering as your skin brushed against her breasts, sending a jolt of pleasure and a hint of discomfort down her spine. Her forehead rested against your cheek, pants puffing out of her mouth as she tried her best to control the feelings that overwhelmed and took over her mind for a moment, but you didn’t give her a break. The hands on her waist pushed her away from you until she was sitting in bed staring at you, face flushed, and a questioning look in her beautiful brown eyes. Leaving fiery trails behind your fingers made their way upwards, Lilia’s breath picking up in anticipation until the back of your hand brushed underneath her breasts, her breath hitching in her lungs at the sensation, head lulled back as her fingers wrapped around your wrists to hold herself up. 

She had bewitched you, your mind and body under a spell you would never break, your lower lip between your teeth as you simply watched her. She made no effort to stop you, and as curiosity took over you cupped her bosom in your hands, plump flesh heavy and hot on your palms as they overflowed in between your fingers, clearly too big for your hands. The touch was borderline torture for her but as soon as the pads of your fingertips squeezed gently, aware that they were more sensitive than usual, listening to the way her throat groaned and gasped at the feeling, deep oak orbs hidden behind eyelids as her eyes closed. She could have either cum right there and then from that simple gesture or set herself aflame in a passionate fire, burning from her core all the way to the tip of her toes and top of her head. Her reactions were a little bit stronger than what you were used to hearing from her, after all, you had barely touched her, but the way her lips remained ajar, trying to push air into her lungs as her features contorted in pleasure, you felt your confidence growing and your touch becoming a bit sturdier.

Squeezing a bit harder Lilia’s body vibrated at the guttural moan that echoed against the walls, almost as loud as the rain that still banged against the walls and windows of the house, like daggers that tried to pierce through the glass. She was going mad, feeling every wrinkle of your fingers on her skin like electricity coursing through her veins, sparks practically dripping from your hands onto her breasts, but as much as she was loving this, part of her wanted more and since her fingers were still wrapped around your wrists, she pressed your hands closer, squashing her own bosom with your palms. To see her like that, shivering in pleasure and desire as your thumbs caressed the skin, toying and teasing the plump flesh without fully touching her rock-hard nipples made your need for her greater, and without complaint your lips latched onto her completely exposed neck.

Lilia had no other option but to let go of your arms in this new position she had found herself in, writhing on the mattress as your ministrations reached a new fervor, kneading the flesh tenderly as kiss after kiss you mapped the entirety of her neck, from right under her jaw, teethe scrapping the sharp angle to the hollow of her neck, sucking and licking as if your life depended on it. From her rose-petal lips groans and gasps fell continuously, a moan or two escaping and disturbing the train of sounds when your grip on her breasts became a bit harsher, sending a jolt of discomfort and pleasure in a perfect mix down to her core. Not in a single moment did you lose control of your actions or attempt to take things in a more rough direction, knowing perfectly well that now that she was pregnant and well until she was ready after birth you would not engage in something that could hurt her or the baby, both of them your whole world and priority from now on.

The world could be on fire, buildings collapsing in a thick dust of smoke, rubble covering the roads and pavement, food scarce and danger hiding in every corner, you would never let them get hurt, going without eating for them, without sleep and putting yourself in harms way so they could be safe. You would take all the things Lilia could not do and carry them for her, on your hands, your arms, on your back until your knees hit the floor, all for her and the baby because you could not fandom a world in which you were alive, and they weren’t. Lips journeyed over her collarbone, reaching her right shoulder first where your mouth pecked each freckle you could see and remember, hands pushing her breasts higher, a strangled cry ripped from her throat at the touch of your thumb over her nipple, at last, placing her hands on your hips to steady herself, pants mixing with the constant rhythm on the rain. Lilia didn’t notice the way your entire weight was beginning to push her back onto the bed, her legs still under the covers feeling the heat radiating from your bare thighs as her back arched slowly, but your lips never left her body, kissing your way to her left shoulder, pecking and licking over her collarbones once more and leaving wet spots behind that cooled Lilia’s scorching skin.

It was utterly intoxicating and addicting to touch her like this. Every twitch and movement of her hips drove you to take her, to nearly give in and simply blow her mind but that was not what you wanted. With one last swipe of your thumbs over her nipples you released her breasts gently, a hiss escaping her parted lips as the heaviness of her bosom returned to her, your hands resting on her ribcage, on the sides of her body, to finish pushing her back on top of the mattress. Her perfect curls were spread on her pillow, wild and framing her flushed face while also being fanned over the silky fabric, and as your eyes raked over her body, positively sublime, all you wanted to do was thread your hands through her hair as you to took her to the heavens. Featherlight touches travelled down the sides of her abdomen, fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps behind that had Lilia’s pupils blown wide, no more melted chocolate to bathe your body in, only a pool of lust that had your brain in a haze.

Reaching her hips you were met with obstacles in the form of cotton covers and the rest of Lilia’s pearly nightgown and in a rapid but soft motion the blanket released her shapely legs, calves and sculpted thighs picking from the hem of her gown now that there was no barrier tainted with faded flowers. The bedding clung to her perfume, no matter how many times you washed it her essence lingered, overwhelming your senses and fogging up your mind, though you could not find it in you to protest, loving the way the aroma of your beloved wrapped around you and kissed your skin every night when you closed your eyes and every morning when you opened them. With your hands resting on the arch of her feet fingers rubbed circles on her skin, parting her legs slowly so you could kneel in between them, the bed creaking slightly as the weight shifted and you settled yourself before her.

Inch by inch your touch travelled over her shins, bending her legs as your body bent to place a lingering kiss on top of each of her knees, drinking in the feeling of every muscle you could trace with the tips of your fingers, strong underneath your palms while she also remained soft and tender, her every curve a perfect and delicious sight. Lighting struck once more, sharp, perhaps even brighter than the previous ones, filling up the room with white light, a translucent hue of pink bathing Lilia as if she was glowing, her hands holding onto the sheets underneath her as her chest rose and fell rapidly, anticipation and a touch of desperation lacing her every breath. A groan escaped your throat as she was illuminated in the light of the storm, flesh pink, her body nearly naked before you, her eyes simply devouring you, not blinking afraid that she might miss the way your gaze fell on her body as if she was the oxygen you breathed, the water you drank and the food that you ate, as if she was a glass sculpture that needed to be in case, crafted by angels to be forever beautiful, eternally adored.

Your palms continued on their journey, the path ahead clear, the roads almost free of obstacles as you reached her thighs, taking the time to move your fingers to the soft skin of her inner thigh, basking the way Lilia’s breath caught on her throat, her knuckles nearly white as her grip became stronger, daydreaming of how your fingers would feel on her, hands and lips everywhere. It was only for a moment, to tease her as a smile made its way to your lips for the first time that night and at the sight she just could not stay still, she needed to see it closer, to feel it against her skin to know that you were alright, that you would be perfectly alright as she held you close in her arms. Taking hold of the nightgown that had bunched up around her hips you pushed it down a little, exposing less than an inch of her hipbone, but Lilia understood the signal perfectly and she lifted her ass off the mattress to let you push the garment down her legs and throw it at the foot of the bed.

Another bout of lightning struck the sky, getting closer and closer as the minutes ticked by, but it meant nothing to you, not when Lilia laid completely bare before you, toned legs and dizzying curves leaving you breathless. Perfection seemed too weak of a word to describe her, her soft body complimenting her nurturing and caring nature in a way that you could not quite understand, hands resting on her bare hips as your body hovered over hers, but your grip on her didn’t last more than a few seconds before Lilia was taking your hands and pulling you to meet her face, your smile never faltering, not for an instant. To keep your full bodyweight from pressing against her your elbows rested on either side of her head, fingers playing with random locks of peppery hair as her hands cradled your face, her touch kind and tender on your cheeks, eyes glued to the way your lips stretched in that soft smile that reassured her just as much as it made you come to terms with it all. Nightmares can’t hurt you; they can’t become truths or make you bleed in despair when reality rests beneath your body looking up at your eyes as if you were an extension of herself, completely enamoured by your looks, by your brain and every single bit that made you, you.

She pulled you closer, expecting to feel her lips on yours in an instant but it wasn’t so. Your forehead came to rest over hers in an intimate gesture that you cherished with every fibre of your being, feeling just an ounce of what was going through Lilia’s mind, experiencing what she felt as if you were under her skin, love pouring out of her like a waterfall even if in truth she was barely moving, eyes closed as she breathed in your aroma, engraved deeply in her lungs. All you wanted to do was to stay like this, skin on skin, feeling every inch of her body pressed against yours as if there was no air, no gaps to separate you, the index finger of your right hand tracing the shape of her ear, travelling over her jawline until your palm laid flat on her cheek. If time could stop, if either of you could pause it all, the entire universe, in the blink of an eye, you wouldn’t have hesitated to do so, no rain or thunder compared to the sound of Lilia’s breaths, of feeling her heart beating as if it laid next to yours, her touch tender and kind.

Slowly her head lulled to the side and her lips claimed yours in a kiss that started out as a waltz, sensations controlled, movements delicate against your mouth, but soon it became a tango, passion making its way to her tongue as she traced your lower lips with its tip, begging you to take her, to claim her and who were you to deny her? The heat in the room spiked as tongues battled, your lips parted to grant Lilia entrance, the fire that had burnt steadily in your core now blazing, overtaking your mind for a moment as your hips pressed against hers, feeling just how your actions had affected her. A groan slipped from her mouth to yours, swallowed as thunder crashed almost above your building, loud and cracking, floors shaking as the sound echoed all throughout the city, but your ears could only hear Lilia. Your mouth could only taste Lilia.

As you separated after your lungs began to beg for air, an unnecessary commodity, you thought, claiming her mouth once more not a second later, Lilia whimpering now that your hands had let go of her face and rested on her hips, snaking down to her ass. The way her arms wrapped around your shoulders was instinct, keeping you in place and scratching the back of your neck and scalp with her short nails, red streaks left on your alabaster skin. The ball of her feet rubbed your calves as her legs bent around your hips, tempting you to press yourself harder against her centre, but you refrained, wanting to savour her whole body before you could even entertain the thought of tasting her delicious nectar. Parting from her lips, sweet pants brushing your skin as Lilia breathed in rapidly, your mouth followed an invisible line that started at her left cheek, wishing that gorgeous pink blush could leave an imprint on your swollen lips, marking you with her beauty.

Peck after peck the road led you to her jawline, sharp like a knife, your tongue tasting the thin layer of salty perspiration that was beginning to cover her exquisite skin, sparks of electricity colliding with your tastebuds as the gentle licks became harsh kisses, the first stages of a hickey forming right underneath the juncture of her jaw and her neck. She was delicious, a most sublime mix of sweet and salty that left your brain begging for more, craving her and all the sounds that dripped from her lips, thick and velvety as honey and laced with lust. Moans could not describe the way your lips sucked on her pulse point, not the way your hands squeezed the flesh of her ass, the imprint of your hands red on her creamy skin, but there was just no other sound that could make you understand that all the things you were doing to her, as little or as big as they might be, were maddening. No matter how many times you travelled all over her body, from the wrinkles on her forehead to the smooth flesh of her legs, you just couldn’t get enough, mapping her every curve as rivers of pure passion, every beauty mark as unexplored crossroads, her taunt abdomen a vast plateau of bright green grass that swayed in the breeze with splatters of daisies and lavenders.

Her thighs were canyons with no end, an abyss in between them that you fell in every time, her breasts mountains that you climbed with your bare hands, tasting the springs of crustal clear water that emanated from them as your mouth latched onto the ample flesh. Every time you made love to Lilia, her cartography changed, adding new landmarks you hadn’t seen before, rewriting others to give them the details they deserved, never ceasing your exploration, never faltering in your ministrations. Trailing down her neck, olive-kissed skin exposed for your eyes only, your lips could not help but kiss and taunt the smooth flesh, getting drunk on her state and the sounds of her gasps each time your teeth scraped her collarbone, or your tongue licked the hollow of her neck.

Making your way to her chest, your mouth had barely kissed the sweel of her right breast when her breath caught on her throat, hands digging onto the back of your head, nails nearly drawing blood. In a string of gentle kisses, your mouth traced the invisible outline of the top of each breast, featherlike touches sending shivers all over Lilia’s body, the crackle of magic loud in the air that floated inside the room, almost matching the way the lightning strikes were slicing through clouds and rain continuously now, thunder approaching and crashing onto the ground fast. Her sternum was just as sensitive, moan after moan coating your ears as you worked, your nails scratching the skin of the back of her thighs hard enough to leave red trails behind but gentle enough that you weren’t hurting her, the stinging pain you were causing with your hands mixing perfectly with the pleasure your mouth was giving her. Snaking underneath her bosom you proceeded to deliver a gentle suck, the skin smooth and hot as your tongue licked it, and in return a sharp intake of air followed by a guttural groan escaped Lilia’s body, her frame shaking in anticipation of what was to come, your mouth tasting the smooth flesh around her nipple in painstakingly slow laps of your tongue.

You were sure her nails had dug into your skin, perhaps even drawn a drop or two of blood but that pain was more than welcome by you, her presence and reality confirmed not only by her lingering sweetness on your taste buds, but by her touch of your skin, harsh and yet tender, fingers never faltering as they twirled your hair. Without warning your lips curls around her nipple, sucking gently as your tongue twirled the stiff peak around. A loud cry rained on you, her hand pulling on your hair while at the same time she pushed you closer to her, every nerve ending in her system on fire, melting her and surrendering her completely to your touch, not that she would have denied you her body at any point, her hips buckling against yours in an action-reaction response to the way you were sending sensations all over her body she had never though possible. Her cries only escalated in pitch as one of your hands released her thigh and began to knead on the plump flesh, your mouth never stopping and moving faster and faster to see how much Lilia could take, the feeling of your teeth biting down on her nipple being the limit.

The moan that ripped from her chest held a tinge of hurt and discomfort that you picked up on quickly, and with a tender kiss on the side of it, you moved on to her other breast, her breaths coming in such hurried pants that you wondered for a moment if what you were doing could send her over the edge before you could bury your face in between her legs. You wouldn’t have been wrong. The fire in Lilia’s core was so strong and hot that with each touch, each vibration from your own groans and whimpers her orgasm was being built higher and higher, a skyscraper at this point, and it never slowed down, your mouth delivering each puff of hot breath and each lick of wet saliva as if you had it all calculated. She writhed underneath you, begging with each gasp for you to either take her completely or to send her over the edge already, doubtful of whether she could take much more of you sucking and twirling her nipple in your mouth, each breast as sensitive as every nerve within her. And then you let go.

Her hands fell on top of the mattress as she tried to control her breathing, her mind hazy and her sight blurry even if the room was practically filled with light continuously, thunder rushing all around like a bomb, the bed rattling slightly as you kneeled to observe her. That pearly rose tint her flesh had developed throughout the night had moved on to a bright red, small bruises forming on her neck, and the shape of your fingertips on the plump skin of her bosom from where your hand had kneaded the flesh, taking in the way her legs trembles on each side of your hips, breasts bouncing ridiculously fast, almost as if she was fighting hyperventilating. Every sensation coursed through her veins like the wind in a hurricane, sweeping her off her feet and making her float in a haze of pleasure and desire that hadn’t quite reached its breaking point, not that it was too far away, but as your hands caressed the sides of her ribcage all the way to her hips her heartrate began to drop, beat by beat.

There was no control over the storm outside, rain pouring as if it was the end of the world, fast and angry, drowning the ground and filling the air with the sound of each droplet smashing against walls and windows. But as loud as it was it could never overshadow the way Lilia responded to each of your touches, not even now that your mouth had travelled south down the road of her body, stretch marks greeting you as your kisses lingered on her smooth abdomen, small and curvy, perfect witnesses to the beauty of a woman, the thin lines, lighter in the white halo of the storm, wrapping around her hips and vanishing in the juncture between her pelvis and her upper thighs. There would be more as the child grew and Lilia’s body adapted to house it, skin molding to the baby’s every need, and part of you could not wait to see them as your newborn laid nestled on Lilia’s chest, held protectively by her arms, a sign that she had done and survived one of the most dangerous tasks ever laid before a woman: bringing life.

Thinking of what was to come, of the risks she was taking made your grip on her hips harder, your forehead resting for a moment on her to simply feel her, steady, the flow of her golden tendrils deep inside her caressing your troubled mind into a calm reassuring sea. Under her skin that sparkle of magic always lingered, called out to you to meet it and mix your own young sage power with it, letting Lilia’s wisdom vanish your doubts when you didn’t think you were good enough, to feel her love in everything she did and was, including this sweet kisses that her powers delivered onto your warm skin, like a warm blanket in the dark of a cold winter’s night, like kisses shared on the doorstep of the shop when you bid Lilia goodbye to go to work. All you needed was to be with her, to hold her in your arms, and then nothing in the entire universe could ever go wrong. As you savoured the way her magic cradled you, her hands tenderly pet your head, her fingers threading between locks of your hair as her breaths became slower, you felt something deep within her.

Pressing your lips on her lower abdomen you were surprised to sense that same spark of magic you had both felt earlier that day floating so strongly underneath her skin and muscles. It was like static at first, a tingling that travelled lazily from within her to your lips, but as the seconds went by it grew stronger, moving onto a bright electricity that held you in place, almost as if it didn’t want you to leave. In a haze your mind filled with the sensation of comfort and safety, golden and silver clouds of dust suspended in a vast black universe, all surrounded suddenly by veils of green, like a nebula that was forming inside Lilia, unique and forever eternally levitating under her heart. It was clearly a mix of you both, colours and branches of magic tenderly dancing around each other, but inside that cosmic explosion of life small streaks of white moved in between each of you, a sign that what you were sensing and seeing was your baby, yours and Lilia’s child happily held by the two of you, content to be able to feel you just as much as you could feel them.

You wondered if Lilia could sense it, if perhaps with time she would see the beauty, and if you had lifted your head, even for an instant, you would have seen the way her eyes were closed, sharing that moment with you, stars sparkling, all the futures your baby could have presented to her and yet her mind not wanting to see them. She basked in the way your hands gripped her tighter to you, never wanting to let go, but soon the baby grew tired, too small to remain awake for you to feel, and like a lightbulb it’s light dimed until it laid dormant once again, golden dust cradling white matter as it rested, your own sage particles, wide and full of life, embracing them both, a world of galaxies and stars sparkling before your eyes. Lilia’s body was still affected by your ministrations, but she didn’t push you to meet her needs, cherishing this moment with you even if part of her wanted you to carry on, knowing that you needed this more than she needed to let the coil of pleasure that had built explode and release all the endorphins that had accumulated in your whirlwind of passion.    

Lips met skin, and as you peppered her flesh with kisses, taking in every hum of approval that rumbled in her throat, the corners of her mouth lifting in a kind smile, her hands carried on caressing the back of your head. Slowly you managed to slide lower, her pubic bone and the short grey curls that adorned it brushing and tickling your nose as you planted a kiss over them. Lilia’s breath hitched in her lungs, the calmness that had trickled inside her veins moments ago walking side by side now with the desire you had shared with her, a transfusion of love and pleasure that lazily pumped throughout her system. With your arms underneath her thighs and the palms of your hands pressed against her hip bone your kisses journey to the end of the line, taking the longer route as the smooth skin of her inner thigh laid beneath your kisses, ever so soft, not a blemish or spot in sight, pure as snow and valuable as pearls, platinum melted on your tongue as the storm reached its height, lighting and thunder battling in the sky in an angry tango while Lilia gave her body willingly to you, no questions or expectations ever leaving her lips.

Your teeth didn’t hesitate to leave as many marks as you wanted, ruining her perfect creamy skin with each nibble and bite, sucking hard until a purple tone began to spread instead of the angry red, moans vibrating from her chest; all the bruises and hickeys her oversensitive chest and breasts could not take. Satisfied with the impressionist painting you had created on her, your own rendition of the “Water Lilies” made by Monet, each bruise a flower floating in a perfect sea of calm currents that was Lilia’s sublime flesh, you were finally presented with the most beautiful work of art. Pink folds draped in waves before your eyes, glistening with an arousal that nearly dripped down onto the bedsheets, the salty smell of her filling your lungs and overwhelming your senses, your mouth watering at the sight of her so utterly open and ready for you.

With your thumbs circling the skin between her pelvis and her inner thigh, shivers running up her spine, Lilia could not help the breaths that came in hurried puffs as her heart sped up once more, beating hard against her ribcage to a point that she almost feared she might collapse even before you got started and then, all of a sudden, the universe became to a halt. One long lap of your tongue all along her folds, gathering her sweet juices and drinking them in, had her big brown eyes rolling to the back of her head, the gentle grip she had had on your head now hard as she pulled on your hair, a stinging sensation on your scalp that you didn’t mind. Her lips were ajar, letting the most intense and sinful noises fall past them, dripping almost as loudly as the rain hit the windows. You were gifted, a genius that moved your tongue from side to side, up and down, curling and straightening the muscles all over her, her juices sliding down your chin in transparent rivulets that you didn’t have the chance to gather with your tongue.

Her legs trembled, muscles quivering as she pushed your face closer to her, and who were you to fight it when you wanted to have her on top of you, beneath you, inside you, and at the same time wrapping her every limb around you, to be with her and part of her, one and the same. Flicking her neglected bud in quick succession for a moment had Lilia arching her back and fighting to lift her hips, your hands pressing her back onto the mattress to keep her still, the heels of her feet digging into your lower back as high-pitched moans and grunts accompanied the ever louder thunder, lightning beaming over her sweaty body like a pearly veil that dressed her in transparent silks, skin glowing, hair sprawled over the pillow in matted mess of curls. She moved her head from side to side as your tongue worked wonders on her clit, completely unafraid of being loud and unapologetic of the way you teased and lapped at her, knowing perfectly well what things she liked and what things she didn’t, opting to abuse those spots that drove her insane.

Rain became hail, loud and so very close to shattering glass as it landed harshly over windows, cars battered under its force out on the streets, matching in strength the way Lilia’s arousal was close to reaching its peak, building higher and higher with each stroke. Your right hand released her hip, sliding under her thigh and coming to touch her hot centre with two fingers, coating them in the arousal your mouth could not take, sliding up and down slowly, teasing almost, to make sure that she was more than ready before parting her folds, that smell that was so characteristic of Lilia, sweet and spicy, citrusy even, enfolded in a cloud of rosemary incense seeping from her every pore. The tips of your fingers entered her carefully, eyes watching over her pubic bone as her head was thrown back over the pillow, chest rising and falling rapidly, fighting through the lust and the desire to fill her lungs with air. She felt your fingers filling her up, inch by inch until you were knuckles deep inside her, the coil in her abdomen almost ready to burst, a tingling sensation spreading through her limbs lazily, like a warning of what was to come, and as you began to move them, slowly at first, she could not believe how diligent you were in your ministrations, the care and work you put on making sure she felt good at all times. It almost brought tears to her eyes.

Placing a kiss on her clit your tongue proceeded to return to her folds, fingers picking up their pace, curling slightly until she was nearly screaming, nonsensical noises falling from her parted lips as your ministrations increased. She was so close, you could tell, her arousal dripping all over your hand and chin, velvety walls clenching around you as her legs began to tremble. In a perfect combination of nature and desire you gave one last suck on her clit, grazing the swollen bud with your teeth softly as your fingers went deeper, the tips hitting that spongy spot that released it all. Like a bomb, Lilia arched off the bed, screaming as loudly as the thunder above the shop, lightning eclectically coursing both through the sky and through her every nerve, spreading electricity from the top of her head to the tip of her toes, numbing and at the same time setting every inch of her skin aflame.

Her hips buckled against your hand and face, your tongue lapping and drinking every ounce of her juices that dripped out of her, your fingers never slowing down their pace as she rode out her high, the grip on your hair harsh and strong to the point where you thought she might have pulled a strand or two right out of your scalp. Lilia could not think, could not help but thrush around messing the bedsheets as her orgasm washed over her like ripples on the ocean surface. There was nothing calming about the way the pleasure took hold of her mind, a thick fog clouding her every thought and common sense as starts danced over her eyes, hidden behind closed eyelids. After what seemed to be hours to the both of you, Lilia’s body began to calm down, falling back on top of the mattress, completely spent, as your fingers slowed down to let her adjust to her release. You could have carried on, it would have been easy to bring her to the edge over and over, but this wasn’t a race to see Lilia falling over the edge continuously until she passed out; you weren’t sure why the visceral need to see her come undone beneath you when you could have simply let her hug you and try to fall back asleep, but your mind certainly felt gratitude at seeing her like this before you.

Her breaths came in pants, pushing air in gulps into her lungs as she felt your fingers still their movements at last, the trembling of her legs stopping after a moment, the hand that had been resting and holding her in place over her hip bone now caressing gently the skin of her inner thigh, travelling all the way to her knee and back in a rubbing motion. It was comforting to feel you like that, delivering sweet pecks on the skin of her leg as her body finally came down to the land of the leaving, her hands releasing your hair and flopping back on top of the mattress deliciously spent. As her movements stilled you managed to pull out of her, earning a displeased whine from Lilia that made you smile tenderly as her eyes lazily opened up to see darkness once more, the storm having melted into nothing in the matter of a few minutes, rain falling gently against the house as you moved your body over hers, hovering until your face came to meet hers.

Even though there was no more light in the room she could still make out your relaxed face, the way you held her gaze with a semblance of love that embraced her form as much as your hands caressed her cheeks. There were lingering veils of pleasure over her gorgeous eyes, but if you moved past them, chocolate intoxicating your palate along with the taste of her, the world laid bare before you, the answers to every question you had ever had, presented in Lilia’s hands, waiting for the right moment for her to hand them to you. There was no more fear, no more terror that tried to pull you into an abyss of despair, only the memories of her alive under your touch, responsive even now, her tired arms snaking lazily around your back, as you lips tenderly pressed over hers. She didn’t push her tongue more than was necessary, a quiet moan vibrating from her throat as she tasted herself on your lips, not because she didn’t want to return the favours, but because you made no attempt to continue things.

You hadn’t even realised the way your body had been running partially on adrenaline until you felt a mild ache on your limbs, forcing you to lay on your side beside Lilia, one hand taking hers and intertwining her fingers with yours while the other never left her cheek, her body turning to face you. She could have talked, she could have asked you what had happened, what you needed or if you were alright, but it would have served no purpose. Words were superfluous to either of you right now, unnecessary as shadows hovered and clung to every corner, the early hours of the morning creeping in the horizon, her eyes reading your body language as if you were an open book. A burst of wind could snatch the reassurances that would fall from Lilia’s lips before they reached your ears, leaving you troubled and scared, voices inside your head overshadowing every comforting word until they were barely whispers among your demons. Actions, though, could do what entire books could not.

There was barely a gap between you and her, and never, not even for a moment, did she recoil from you or pull her hands away from yours, feeling the happiness and calmness of your mind. There were no traces of the images that had disturbed you so intensely not that long ago, only the thoughts of her heart beating strong and steady under her ribcage, and her lungs, breathing clouds of warm life that with its tender touches caressed your face, filled you mind with the truths that she was alive under the palms of your hands. Nothing could ever take her from you, and that simple thought would have been more than enough for you, her perfect face holding your loving gaze as the gentle sounds of the rain began to lull you both to sleep, but to have also felt the baby so strongly beneath Lilia's skin, meeting your kisses with sparks, had caught you off guard, not realising how much you loved it already, nearly as much as you loved Lilia. Your legs were interlaced over the blankets, the hand that was neatly held by yours laying close to Lilia’s chest, the steady beating of her heart a melody so sweet to your ears that you could never get tired of hearing it.

Perhaps it was temporary, this happiness that had overcome everything else, but for the time being you were more than content to be able to go to sleep with Lilia in your arms. She pulled you closer to her, the ruffling of the bedsheets filling up the quiet air that floated in the room, and wrapped her arms around your frame as your head nestled on top of her chest, ear glued to her skin in the perfect position to count the way her blood pumped through her veins and each one of her breaths. As the clock on the wall ticked away, Lilia’s perfume filling up your lungs, her fingers caressing the back of your head and the skin between your shoulder blades, the rain became nothing more than a drizzle, silence echoing against the walls after hours of raging sounds, a perfect metaphor for the insanity that had overtaken your mind and the way Lilia had washed it all away. Your eyelids became heavy, the warmth that seeped from her skin enfolding you, and as your body fell into the arms of Morpheus, sleep claiming your tired body once again, Lilia placed a tender kiss on the crown of your head as she wrapped the tousled sheets over the both of you.

It would take her a bit longer before sleep claimed her, the last tinges of pleasure still clinging to her skin, but she did not mind, it hadn’t been the first and it wouldn’t be the last time her slumber run away from her but at least this time she had a good reason to remain awake. Moonlight peaked from in between grey clouds, its silvery beams the first steady source of light the city had seen for hours, breaking through the kitchen window as it brought peace woven in between them, Lilia’s eyes never straying from your relaxed face as the pearly rays kissed your skin, her golden magic keeping you safe and protected. Nothing would ever harm you as long as she was round.

[navybrat817]

Sign the Dotted Line

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: You discuss the terms with Estelle and wait the week before seeing Andy again. Word Count: Over 3.5k Warnings: Slow burn, reader is broke (is that a warning?), sugar daddy offer, tension, slight insecurities, inner monologue, Andy Barber (he's a warning, okay?) Graphic talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics , Header - yours truly A/N: Welcome back to my Terms and Conditions AU! Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thanks!), but any and all mistakes are my own. ❤️ Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You had a hard time relaxing after your meeting with Andy. You couldn’t put your finger on why you were wound up. The discussion went well, even better than you expected. Andy wasn’t pushy considering the power he wielded, but also wasn’t a pushover when you questioned him or offered alternatives. He conducted himself the way you needed him to, both professionally and personally. If he hadn’t, you’d have a much harder time going along with his contact.

So why am I so restless?

Estelle, once again reminding you why she was one of the best friends a girl could have, stopped by your place with wine and pizza. “You were not about to tell me over the phone what happened. Once I get this passed out, dish.”

Your friend was unusually quiet as you gave her the rundown of the meeting and terms you agreed to. It meant a lot that she listened, but you expected her to chime in once or twice with her opinion as she refilled your glasses of wine. Was she thinking carefully about what to say or did she not have anything to add?

“I have three questions for you,” she said, drumming her manicured nails along her glass. “First, why didn’t you accept his higher offer for more money each month?”

There it is.

“Because it was an excessive amount of money considering he’s going to pay my bills and rent, along with getting me a new wardrobe AND a personal driver. Unless I’m going out with you or our friends, it doesn’t sound like I’m going to pay for anything.”

Saying it out loud made you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Everything you had was because you worked for it. Soon, you wouldn't even work at the diner. To think the next nine months you wouldn’t work? It didn't sound real.

It didn't sound like you.

“All I'm saying is you could’ve used that extra money for savings,” she pointed out with a raise of her glass. “Or to stock up on wine.”

You snorted a bit, taking a sip of your drink. “I’m still going to put money aside for savings, but the amount he’s going to spend taking care of me? It’s a lot.”

“Doesn’t sound like it’s much to him if he agreed so easily.”

“It’s a lot to me,” you said under your breath.

And I’m not about to take advantage of him.

Andy was going to take care of you like he promised. You had no doubt about that. The world he lived in, maybe it wouldn’t make much of a difference in his bank account to take on your debt for the next nine months. You weren’t going to push for more money when he was giving you the world and then some.

Estelle smiled into her glass. “I haven’t met the guy yet, but I think he likes you because you’re a good person. I mean, he wants you to have dinners with him so he can talk to you and to get to know you even more,” she said, leaning forward when you tried to look away. “Which brings me to my second question. How do you feel about the ‘no sex’ in the contract?”

Your stomach sank a bit, making you wonder if that was why you felt restless when you should’ve been happy. “Is it bad if I say it hurts my ego a little?”

It was irrational to have a bit of a bruised ego. Andy gave you an explanation as to why he didn’t add that clause and it made perfect sense. The fantasy that he wanted you still played out in your mind though. But what would wanting him lead you to? What did you have to offer him besides companionship?

“A little? Mine would’ve hurt a lot,” she joked, causing your face to fall more as your thoughts crushed you. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that. Just because he doesn't have it in the contract doesn't mean he isn't attracted to you. Didn’t you say he complimented the dress, which we knew you looked hot in? And your smile?”

"He did,” you answered, heat creeping up your neck that had nothing to do with the wine. “But Andy is like a full course meal. What the hell am I?"

Estelle wadded up her napkin and threw it at your head, which you dodged. "So are you. If you don't believe me, at least consider yourself to be dessert or a fine wine," she said. You wouldn’t, but you weren’t about to tell her that. "And you know what? I respect the man a hell of a lot more for not adding anything sexual to the contract.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. You said if something happened, he wanted it to be natural or organic. He doesn’t want to take advantage of you. He wants to seduce you the old fashioned way. And I say let him. You can start by taking some of that money he gave you and buy some fancy lingerie.”

You finished your glasses, wondering what Andy liked. Did he like something simple and classic? What colors would get his attention? "I was going to pay you back for the dress and the shoes," you told her.

With a wrinkle of her nose, she snatched the bottle from the table "Those were a gift and I won't accept any money back," she said, pouring the rest of the wine into her glass. You figured that was what she'd say. "And because you offended me, no more wine for you."

"You’re the one who brought that bottle, so your rules," you reminded her as she shot you a look. "Okay, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have offered to pay you back for my present."

Estelle nodded after a moment. "Good. That's good practice for when Andy buys you something just because and you try to pay him back."

You refrained from rolling your eyes, but she had a point. You would probably try to pack him back whether he wanted it or not. "Is it really paying him back if it's with his own money?"

She pretended to think it over before laughing. "Probably not," she said as you stood up to take your glass to the sink. "Hey, I didn't ask my third question."

"Fire when ready."

"Do you really want to give it a week when you have your mind made up?"

Estelle knew you all too well. Even if you hadn't told her from the start that you planned to sign the contract, she would've figured it out. "The time frame was his call."

While it did give you time to think it through, surely he had to get things in order, too. Like your new place. God, you couldn't believe you were going to move into his building.

"You could ask him to move up the date? Worst thing he could say is 'no'."

Maybe.

"Yeah," you said, going to sit back down with a huff. "Are you sure you don't mind being in the know of this? And having to keep it under wraps?"

"Are you kidding? It's an honor you asked me," she said, holding her head high with such confidence you had to smile. "I got your back."

"Thanks, Estelle," you said.

She waved her hand dismissively, but had a smile on her face. "Don't mention it."

"Okay. Now enough about me," you smiled. "Tell me about your day."

"Well," she smirked, tilting her head as she paused dramatically. "I may have found a guy for Wendy."

Your eyes lit up, happy you asked. Wendy was another friend of yours who hadn’t dated in awhile. "Tell me everything."

You managed to keep your focus on Estelle as she told you about the gorgeous guy she met in a coffee shop who was just Wendy’s type. You wondered how different things would've been had you and Andy met that way. Would it change your story? Would you be where you were now?

Staring at your phone when Estelle went to use the bathroom, you debated whether or not to text Andy. You just saw him earlier today and he had a business dinner. How desperate would you look asking him to move the contract date up?

"Fuck it," you muttered, snatching the device and quickly typing out a message. Communication was key. Like honesty.

"I don't want to wait a week, but I understand if we have to. I hope your dinner went well."

“BOO!” You nearly dropped your phone when Estelle smacked the couch behind you. "You messaged him, didn't you?"

"Yeah," you giggled, holding your chest to calm your pounding heart. "Told him I didn't want to wait a week, but understood if we had to."

"Hopefully he listens. Well, he will if he wants to get in your pants."

"Stop," you giggled as your phone went off, holding your breath as you read the message.

"I'd rather have dinner with you. And I understand you don’t want to wait, but what was it you said about anticipation?"

Using anticipation against me.

"Fine, Daddy."

The three dots popped up immediately as he typed. "You're teasing me, honey."

"Maybe. I'll see you in a week."

“Looking forward to it, but one more thing I forgot to mention. I’d like a witness for the contract signing.”

"Are you two sexting?" Estelle asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

"No," you smiled.

Just called him 'Daddy'.

"But he's sticking it out for the week," you said, only a little disappointed. He did have to draw up a contract. “And we need a witness for the signing. I’d like it to be you.”

"Ooh. He's making you wait for it," she said, giving you a small smile. "Give me the time and date and I’ll be there."

“Thanks,” you smiled, sending Andy back a message. “Estelle volunteered.”

“Perfect.”

“One more week and he’s yours,” Estelle smiled.

"One more week."

It really was the longest week of your life to wait to see Andy again, but today was the day.

Your heart beat fast as you and Estelle went into the building and went through the motions with the security guard. You half expected Irene to tell you Andy didn’t have an appointment with you as you made your way to the office. It was silly to think he’d back out, but your nerves were getting the better of you. And why?

Because you hadn’t heard from Andy. Not once. You kept looking at the door expectantly during your shifts at the diner, only to be met with disappointment when he didn’t show. You also didn’t want to admit how many times you checked your phone to see if he reached out. The man had more important things to do than visit or text you.

“Cheer up,” Estelle told you in the elevator. You felt bad. You were sulking and you didn’t try to hide it. Part of that scared you because why did it matter that he had gone radio silent?

“You don’t think he changed his mind, do you?”

“No. He’s just a busy man. Get out of your head.”

“I’m trying,” you sighed.

You led Estelle to the office, expecting to see Irene. All you saw was an empty desk. The light above her chair was off, too. The double doors were shut. Maybe it was a sign. This was too good to be true.

Andy was too good to be true.

“There you are,” you heard as the double doors opened.

“Holy shit,” Estelle breathed, almost making you elbow her.

“Andy,” you said, not quite smiling when you caught sight of him. He didn’t have a blazer on and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. “I was just-”

“Irene wasn’t feeling well, so I sent her home for the day. Come on in.”

“Can you give us a minute?” You asked your friend, who raised an eyebrow in response.

“Yeah. I’ll be here,” she said, taking a seat. Once Andy's back was turned, she mouthed, "Hot!"

Yeah, he is.

You clutched your bag a little tighter as you walked in, reminding yourself to breathe as Andy shut the door. “We’re still doing this?” You asked, your voice shaky.

“Of course, we are,” he said, pulling out the chair that you sat in a week before. “Why? Are you having second thoughts?”

“No. Truthfully, I thought you changed your mind.”

Andy paused before he took his seat. “I have no reason to back out. I offered and want this. I said I’d take care of you and I’m a man of my word. I’m happy to prove that to you if you don’t believe me,” he said, carefully looking you over as blood rushed to your cheeks. “What made you think I’d change my mind?”

You shook your head. “It’s silly.”

“It isn’t silly to me,” he said, sweeping his gaze over you once again. “You’re stiff, honey, and you’re barely looking me in the eye. What’s going on? What do I need to do to put you at ease?”

You swallowed a little. “It was a long week to think it over and I hadn’t heard from you. Because of that, I wasn’t sure if you maybe decided to change your mind,” you explained, lifting your eyes to meet his. You were met with concern and care. “Silly, right?”

“No, it isn’t,” he assured you, sliding a small packet across the table to give you a chance to look at the top page. It was the contact. He really put it together. “May I explain?”

“Of course,” you whispered.

He surprised you by moving his chair around the table so he was beside you instead of across from you. “First, I’m sorry my silence caused any doubt. That wasn’t my intention. I only wanted to give you time to think things through,” he said, his tone gentle as he tapped the contract with his finger. “Would I have this here if I wanted to change my mind?”

“No, I don’t think,” you said, feeling a bit small.

“Second,” he said, a small smile on his face as he took out his phone. “I was the last one to message you. Maybe I didn’t want to bombard you between work.”

You stared at his phone and realized he was right. The last thing he sent was “Perfect.” regarding Estelle was your witness. You never said anything else. God, you were an idiot.

“So you were waiting to hear back from me?” You tried to tease as his smile widened. It was a handsome look. “Okay. So. I may have let my nerves get the better of me. I’m sorry. I just really want this to work.”

It took a lot for you to say that, but there was no judgment from him as he placed his hand over yours.

“So do I, honey,” he said in a low voice. “For the record, you can message me whenever you want. It won’t bother me.”

“Ditto,” you said before you cringed.

Ditto? Really? So eloquent.

He chuckled as he handed you a pen, leaning in a bit closer and giving you a chance to catch that cologne of his you loved. You’d never be able to smell it again without thinking of him. “As long as you’re okay and ready, would you like to start?”

“Yes, I would,” you smiled, sparing him another glance. “Thank you, Andy.”

He didn’t have to put you at ease. He could’ve easily laughed you off as sounding clingy or desperate, but he soothed your nerves. You shouldn’t have expected anything less from an ex-lawyer and, what you believed to be, a good man.

“Of course,” he said, going to the door to get Estelle. “Come in. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” she said, smiling as she shook Andy’s hand. “Heard a lot about you.”

A pange of jealousy settled in your chest when Andy chuckled, making you look away. Estelle was the kind of woman Andy should be with. She belonged in his world. But she wouldn’t do anything. She was a good friend and knew you were at the very least attached to Andy.

I need to get a grip.

You had no idea why the voice in your head was being so cruel to you. First the assumption about Andy backing out and now this. It needed to stop.

“I appreciate you taking the time out of your schedule to be here. I realize there are some stigmas when it comes to contracts, so I want you to know I have her best interest at heart.”

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” Estelle asked, winking at you as she sat down and squashing those nerves once more.

“I also have an NDA for you to sign,” Andy added as he took a seat again beside you and leveled your friend with a look. “I don’t really care what people say about me if word gets out. It won't make a difference. I won’t, however, have them slander her. So I’m trusting you to protect her.”

Estelle’s eyebrows shot up as did yours. Andy’s reputation meant a lot more than yours, yet it was you he was worried about. “You are so authoritative and bossy. No wonder you're in charge,” she said, grabbing a pen for herself. "I'll sign whatever you put in front of me."

“Okay then,” Andy smiled, tilting the paper so both of you could look together. “Let’s get started.”

Andy carefully read over each section, giving both you and Estelle a chance to object or stop him. Everything discussed was accounted for. The length of the contract, job, living arrangements, expenses, travel, he had it all. No red flags jumped out. Nothing of concern. You saw no reason to object when he stated everything as agreed.

“Any questions?” He asked, like he had after every portion.

“Back to the living arrangements,” Estelle said, pointing her pen at him. “I want to be there when she moves in.”

“You do?” You questioned with a look. “You hate moving.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on doing any of the heavy lifting,” she teased. She usually paid people for that. “But I insist on seeing your building and where she’s going to live. I may ask to see your place, too.”

His place? Why?

Andy appeared surprised by the request as well. “My place? Is that necessary?”

“If you plan on having her there, yes. I want to make sure it’s safe. I get that she’s your sugar baby once she signs the dotted line, but she’s my best friend. She was before she met you and she will be once this contract ends. You want to protect her? So do I.”

Andy hummed thoughtfully. “What do you think?” he asked you.

You would feel more comfortable with someone you trusted there. Not that you didn't trust Andy, but the situation wasn't normal and you understood Estelle’s insistence. Still, seeing his place? Was she being a bit nosy? Was she curious about the man?

She's looking out for me.

“I think that’s fine, all things considered,” you replied.

“Okay. You’ll be there when she moves in and you’re welcome to see my place,” Andy agreed.

“With me there,” you added. She had no reason to see Andy’s place all by herself.

“Duh,” Estelle smiled with a wave of her hand. “Proceed.”

Minutes later, Andy finished and signed the document when you didn't raise any concerns. He slid the last page in your direction and your hand trembled a bit as you went to sign. You caught a look of worry on Estelle’s face when you hesitated. You were so close.

“Honey?” Andy asked so softly you almost missed it.

“I said I’d take care of you and I’m a man of my word.”

With an exhale, you signed your name. This was it. For the next nine months, you’d belong to Andy. Well, in some ways.

Andy’s smile warmed your heart as he passed the sheet to Estelle. Her smile was bright enough to light up the room as she signed. She was thrilled for you.

And you allowed yourself to feel happy, too.

“You’re officially a sugar baby!” Estelle said, quickly signing the NDA as you and Andy exchanged a look. You wished you knew what he was thinking. “We need to celebrate.”

Andy cleared his throat. “Actually, I was kind of hoping I could steal her away for a bit after I make her a copy of this.”

“You were?” You and Estelle asked in unison.

“Yeah,” he smiled as he got to his feet. He practically towered over you where you sat. “I want to take you to the diner myself so you can turn in your notice. What do you say?”

You smiled as Estelle clapped her hands together. “Let’s go.”

After that, you could celebrate the next chapter in your life.

It's official! Here we go! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Andy Barber Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[muffinrecord]

Also I'm a little harsh on Magia Record's storyline being a little... soft? On the hostilities between characters. But I also understand why things are resolved the way they are.

Magia Record is ultimately a story about characters coming together and saving each other. It's baked into the gameplay-- the connect was a big feature that even made its way into the anime.

You can tell the vibe of the game just by comparing it to the anime in fact. In the anime, a ton of characters die. Iroha is unable to save Kuroe, Mifuyu and Momoko have to die as penance in exchange for saving the ones they mislead, Homura fails to save Madoka (and possibly other PMMM original characters) and rewinds time, Ui dies, Touka dies, Nemu dies. Alina dies. Alina's interactions with Karin amount to mostly fan teasing. We see magical girls in the background who are working together against Walpy, but Kanagi is barely present, which means she doesn't have her moments of grouping up with Yachiyo (and all that represents for the east versus west conflicts).

In the anime, the girls fail.

In the game, they succeed. Characters like Mifuyu, who lead others astray, try to kill themselves for redemption but are prevented from doing so because her friends love her and want her to stay with them. Kanagi gets to work with Yachiyo, showing that they have bonds and similarities beyond their differences. Momoko's group never fractures and joins the Wings of Magius, so their friendship continues to keep them propped up and saved. Kuroe is introduced late in the game but she obviously survives and learns to live on. Homura gets to save Madoka and stay her Glasses self, continuing to deepen her friendships with the rest of the gang. Ui, Touka, and Nemu get to be friends again. Touka and Nemu are put on trial but still get to work to try and save humanity. Alina fails to kill people and has Karin more prominently present to remind you of her softer sides, Nemu fails to get herself killed, and blah blah blah, you get my point. This isn't even getting into arc 2, where characters start off very hostile to everyone but smooth at towards the end.

I've got my own personal dislikes of how conflict ends in Magia Record sometimes-- I feel like it takes the easy way out and ignores more interesting routes. I think ending a story so that everyone gets along can be boring and lazy sometimes.

At the same time, I do respect the writing direction for it. I think there's value in saying that everyone (or damn near everyone) can be saved, that people ultimately want to help each other. People want to connect with other people. Friendship can save all. Your friend might be going down a dark path but you can save them through the power of subtextual yuri companionship, compassion, and understanding.

Like, it's a fantasy because you shouldn't be burning yourself to help others, but also fantasy isn't always bad. Sometimes it's nice to have stories where things work out for the better.

I do think though this is why the darker stories in the game really stand out as fan-favorites. Glasses Homura failing to save Kuro is such a gut punch because it feels like that should be impossible in the world of Magia Record, where you can march into a cult and make the leaders into good guys again. Mikoto's pain and suffering stands out because Hanna is never coming back and Mikoto isn't going to get better again. Ryo and Ikumi stay dead. Jun stays dead. Sakuya stays dead. They don't come back.

I'd wager that one reason the story "Girls in the Hood" and its follow up "Dependence Blue" are so popular (besides good writing) is because the fantasy fails and has painfully realistic outcomes in it. Jun isn't able to prevent Mitsune from contracting, despite trying her best to show that you don't need magic to be strong. The two struggle with communicating with each other, despite how much they care for one another. And Jun dies without their feelings being resolved. In a story where so many characters get happy endings (or learn to accept their circumstances), stories like this stick out and have a painful resonance.

I'm meandering again, but yeah. I wish Magia Record was more brave with its writing and that it wouldn't chicken out on pursing conflict at the expense of making characters unlikeable, but I also feel like that wasn't what it wanted to do either. We can say that it's because they wanted to keep their characters as loveable as possible given that it's a gacha and they need to market it to you, but it's also just a storytelling direction that they preferred at the end of the day. I don't have a link but I remember hearing that the writers wanted to keep the game light, that they didn't want people to log in and feel miserable playing a phone game (I could be very badly remembering this).

And you know what, sometimes that kind of cozy friendship-defies-all was very comforting. I dunno. Yeah.

[misty-slays-blog]

So as promised, here's the translation of the interview Morfydd did with Knack in August. I am by no means a translator but I did my best. It's not too long. Some rather interesting bits about how she views Galadriel (also the author of the interview gets Haladriel lol). If you want to read the entire interview in Dutch, it's here (I archived it since you need an account to read it on the Knack site, this way you can read it in its entirety): https://archive.ph/HekvQ

Morfydd Clark keeps getting calls for freaky roles (like for a Galadriel who flirts with Sauron)

During the second season of Rings of Power, the young elf Galadriel will be haunted by the ghosts of her past. Much to the delight of Morfydd Clark, who previously made name for herself as a possessed nurse in Saint Maud. “I love looking for those extreme roles.”

“I would have to board a plane to go home and I can't do that, I thought.”

When Morfydd Clark arrived in New-Zealand five years ago, she had no idea what awaited her. The production for The Rings of Power was notoriously secretive. She knew she'd auditioned for a prequel to The Lord of the Rings. But that she would be playing Galadriel, was new information. Clark had been introduced to the franchise as a child, during a family outing to The Hobbit: A Musical in London. Throughout the following years, she collected illustration books about The Shire and the Peter Jackson movies in her bedroom in Wales. “Unknowingly, I've been preparing for a role in the Lord of the Rings universe for fifteen years”, she tells us through Zoom.

But no book could have prepared Clark for the massive scale on which The Rings of Power operates. It isn't the kind of production with casual fans who are willing to swallow everything. And on top of that: the production value was through the roof. Costing a total of 465 million dollars, the series is the most expensive one ever made. One didn't have to look hard to see where this impressive budget went. From the underground dwarven kingdom Khazad-dûm to the eye-catching splendor of Númenor: even those finding the prequel rather lacking – the series has some flaws – has to admit that the cinematography is breathtakingly spectacular, paling other fantasy franchises in the process.

On top of that, there was the fact that Cate Blanchett's adaptation of Galadriel in the original trilogy has turned into movie heritage. “It helped that I play Galadriel during an entirely different moment of her life, long before she became the Lady of Lothlórien. I delved into the history of the elves, who were pretty wild actually. Did you know that they used to throw each other off of buildings all the time? I wanted my version of Galadriel to be strikingly different from the Galadriel she would eventually become.”

Clark's version of Galadriel is a young, brave warrior who indeed barely resembles Blanchett's ethereal elf. The consequences of a rather unfortunate romantic experience might change that (spoiler: the hunk Galadriel flirted with the entire first season? He happened to be Sauron. Even elves can miss red flags). “She realizes now that she, too, might have darkness within her. Her sense of self is in shambles. We all experience this feeling sometimes, but not everyone revives the evilest being in all of Middle-Earth in the process.” The second season is all about the consequences of this error of judgment. “Sauron haunts her the entire time. She finds herself stuck in her own horror movie.”

Clark describes this new and spooky chapter of her life as 'coming home.' Before her career took her to Middle-Earth, she was well on her way to becoming a Welsh Mia Goth. She played in BBC adaptations of Dracula and His Dark Materials, and in 2019 she was promoted to indie darling thanks to Saint Maud, a psychological horror movie made by Rose Glass (who continued her streak with Love Lies Bleeding) in which she played the titular character. “My parents keep asking me why I am always cast in those terrifying roles. But I think it's wonderful. I love looking for those extreme roles. Although, it is kind of strange to always receive calls for freaky parts. Is that the kind of vibes I have?”

Her freaky vibes are definitely lucrative. Among future roles are a Hamlet adaptation and a slasher, earlier this year she acted alongside Matt Smith in Starve Acre, a British indie horror movie. “That was a lucky coincidence. Matt Smith just finished his takes for House of the Dragon, he has given me so much good advice”, Clark says. It was the first time being back to a small set “where the entire crew fits into one room.” “I don't think the sets for Rings of Power will ever feel like the norm.” Because while every series goes for as much CGI as possible these days, with Rings of Power, the crew aims to build as many of the sets as possible. “Wandering around in such a magical world still feels like winning the lottery each day.”

Despite her success, Clark's acting career started quite accidental. When she was diagnosed with ADHD at the age of seven, a directionless school career followed. She quit when she was sixteen. According to British GQ, her teachers called her 'hollol di gwilydd', meaning 'completely shameless'. It wasn't until she began acting, that she found some sense of peace. And when playing in paranormal and magical fiction, she discovered a world in which she can be herself. “Fantasy like Lord of the Rings reverses the status quo of how we think the world should be. I wanted Galadriel to be free of the things that were imposed on me when I was younger. She isn't apologetic. She never doubts whether or not she said the right thing. And that might be the best part about playing her: Galadriel is shameless.”

[transforming-transformer]

Dane's Unexpected Vacation

Here's a little something I put together, as a commission for @tf-lover, who's been such an amazing friend of mine in the TF community, with a shoutout to his amazing work and his collaborations with @mrwavellswaps! Enjoy!

-----

It had been a particularly long week for Dane De Bruin. 

It was nearly a year ago when his life changed forever, from being a skinny young teacher who was tired of his life and having to deal with annoying teenagers, to a bona fide magical hunk, and now having a boyfriend in the form of the marvelous Mr Wavell. That was a whirlwind, magic carpet ride of a journey all on its own, not only becoming such a stud but also discovering he probably had powers of his own. Dane worked and trained with Mr Wavell, in the real world and in their home in the pocket dimension, to figure out what magic he has deep within him, as he channeled Wavell’s powers to help others find true happiness and fulfill their hidden desires.

He knew that loads of guys had a kink for soft, squishy pecs like his, and as much as he could make money appear from the snap of his fingers, he also thought about the thousands of pounds he could earn just from showing off his man-tits. That said, he began venturing into social media, posting at least once a week on Instagram for thirsty fans who’d be willing to pay him anything to support him, and even send him cute drawings that would especially highlight his knockers. It got a kick out of him, and in a way, he was helping people feel satisfied and fulfilled, and he was feeling great about that.

On top of all that, most recently he had been helping out Mr Wavell collect testimonials on the Homo Bomb he had dropped on the town of Bellmare, dividing up their research across the town’s residents. It was quite fascinating to see how the magical bomb changed the townspeople, varying from the simple change of straight men turning gay, already gay men turning into their fantasies or crushes, to the rare anomalies of women becoming men. The beach town was definitely a notable case study for the books, and it was worth examining on how happy people could be with the help of sudden magic being dropped upon them, all thanks to his boyfriend.

-----

However, in the past few days, Dane started to notice that he was getting quite tired, and it threw off everything he had been doing. He felt less motivated to go to the gym, and without a nice enough pump to show off, he delayed posting anything new on Instagram. Even channeling Wavell’s magic for his own use has been more strenuous than normal, and with Wavell busy collecting his side of testimonies from Bellmare, they haven’t had much time to themselves: whether it was to have a bit of fun in the bedroom, to work on strengthening Dane’s magical abilities, or simply to have lunch together.  It was similar to the draining feeling he experienced long before when he was a teacher, dealing with these pesky kids who didn’t listen to him, or dealing with an admin that ignored his needs for support in the classroom – except that he was drained from everything that he enjoyed doing as Dane. 

As much as he hated to admit it, Dane knew he was being stretched thin, and that he was on the verge of majorly burning out. He was in desperate need of a break. One day, when he finally mustered up enough courage, he eventually sat down with his boyfriend.

“Wavell, babe, I need to talk to you,” Dane said, looking forlorn and exhausted.

Wavell walked over from the kitchen with two glasses of red wine in his hand, handing one to his lover. “What is it, Dane?” he asked as they both sat down.

Dane sighed. “It’s been so amazing spending time with and falling in love with you babe. I’ve loved every moment we’ve spent together, and honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything else. The magic, our relationship and getting to channel your magic, the sex…” Dane chuckled a bit. “Even this Homo Bomb has been crazy interesting to observe.”

Wavell smiled and wrapped his arm around Dane’s waist as he took a sip of his pinot. “And I love you so much, baby. I still can’t believe you’re my boyfriend after all this time. How long has it been? What, nearly ten months since I made you into Dane?”

“Yeah, just about.” Dane smiled, as he took a sip of his wine. “I love you too, babe. Like I said, everything we’ve done together has made me feel so much happier, and life feels so worthwhile with you…” Dane paused, hesitating for a moment, but enough for Wavell to notice.

“I can sense a ‘but’ coming in,” Wavell said, kissing Dane’s cheek. “Dane, don’t worry, you know you can always tell me anything.”

Dane sighed once more, as he slumped his shoulders and finished his glass of wine in one gulp. “I can’t exactly pinpoint why, but I’m just feeling really drained. I’ve noticed it in the little things. Not feeling enough hype to work out, I don’t feel as strong as I know I could be after all our training and after using your powers, and in general I just feel a bit tired.”

Wavell looked down, thinking about it for a moment. In his experience, he knew that magic was enough to keep one energetic and dynamic, but he’d also heard enough stories of other warlocks and possessors of magic to know that not getting enough rest and relaxation could completely destroy their magic and revert them back to what they used to be, or even worse, drain them out of existence. A few of his own friends had disappeared in the past. He pulled Dane close, kissed him softly, and let him rest his head on his lap, 

“You definitely need some R&R, Dane,” Wavell replied, smiling sweetly as he caressed Dane’s hair. “Your powers are still relatively new, and I don’t want to see you completely drained out when you’re still growing them to their full potential.”

Dane felt tears well up in his eyes, and after a deep breath, he felt them stream down his cheeks. “I know, babe. I just… I didn’t wanna let you down.” Dane sniffled, while Wavell rubbed his V-tapered back, comforting him.

“You’ll never let me down, babe. Never. But you shouldn’t ever be ashamed to tell me you’re tired, or to ask for a break when you need one.” Wavell wiped the tears from Dane’s cheeks, as he ran his hand down Dane’s arm to calm him. 

Wavell smirked as he lifted Dane’s head off his lap and embraced him. “You deserve this break. And luckily, I know just the guy to help you out.” 

Dane raised an eyebrow. “Who is this guy?”

Wavell chuckled. “His name’s Drew, and he runs this new resort where magicians like us can go to relax. It’s a new venture he’s exploring, an idea that came to him when he was taking a break of his own after running Transformation College years ago.”

Dane’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘The guy who created Transformation College is back?’, he thought. “I thought he’d disappeared long ago. He’s around again?”

Wavell nodded. “Yep, he’s back, and he’s hoping, since he’s running a resort, he can take it a bit easier than last time. The college really burnt him out,” he chuckled, “but I think Drew’s Transformational Resort could benefit you. Plus, knowing him well, he’ll cover all your expenses.”

Dane smiled, and kissed his lover with a renewed passion. “I fucking love you Wavell.”

“And I love you more, Dane. You deserve a break, and don’t worry about the Homo Bomb testimonies, I can cover that. For now, all you need to do is relax, yeah?” Wavell smiled brightly. The couple got up and headed towards the front door. Holding hands, they stepped out of the house and towards a little tropical hut with a bamboo door on the eastern end of Wavell’s pocket dimension. “Here we are. Just straight through that door and you’ll be at the resort.”

As he held the doorknob, Dane looked into Wavell’s eyes one last time and held his hand. “I’m gonna miss you. I wish you could come with me,” his voice quivered as he said that to his lover.

“I’m gonna miss you too, babe. But I know if I’m gonna be there, you might not be able to recuperate fully, considering we still don’t know what your magical powers are, if you have any. Plus, I don’t know if we’d even be able to relax at all with how much sex we’d have,” Wavell chuckled. He squeezed Dane’s hand once more, kissing him softly, before Dane opened the door and entered through.

-----

Once he was fully through, he was quickly blinded by a bright white light. Dane closed his eyes tightly, then when he opened them again, he found himself on the shore of a pristine white beach, on a secluded island completely surrounded by miles and miles of ocean. He could feel the water wade between toes, and the sand stick to his soles, as he looked around, the door to Wavell’s dimension nowhere to be seen. He then noticed that he was shirtless and just wearing a pair of beach shorts, which surprised him. “Woah, this is trippy,” he muttered to himself as he walked off the beach onto the grass further in, seeing a collection of small beachside villas, two larger buildings, and what appeared to be a lobby, where a young, shirtless and handsome stud stood behind a desk, holding a small flower in hand.

Dane walked over to the desk, but before he could speak, the young hunk turned and smiled. “Dane De Bruin?” he asked.

Dane stepped back. “H-how did you know?”

The handsome stud, who looked around college age, smirked. “Wavell told me everything before you arrived.” Dane chuckled, Wavell was always one step ahead of him. “I’m Drew, by the way,” the himbo-looking stud said, reaching out his hand for Dane to shake.

Dane reciprocated the handshake. “Pleasure to meet you, Drew. Did Wavell already tell you why I’m here?” he replied. Drew simply nodded, and quickly turned around to grab a passion fruit tequila welcome cocktail for Dane, handing it to him.

“We offer a lot of services, but our main purpose here at Drew’s Transformational Resort is magical rejuvenation, helping magicians such as yourself regain control over your powers, and come back feeling relaxed and reborn,” Drew smirked naughtily as he spoke. Luckily, Dane didn’t notice. Drew led Dane down a small, rustic path through the resort, passing by the restaurant and then the spa, all of it looked amazing and luxurious. They stopped at a villa, and Drew opened the door. It was a simple space, but a beautiful one too: a king-sized bed with an extremely soft coconut mattress that felt like sleeping on a cloud; an outdoor shower surrounded by a wall filled with orchid vines; a door that led to the back porch, which had its own swimming pool and jacuzzi; and further out, Dane’s own little cove, which was surrounded by coconut palms and hibiscus trees. It was all spectacularly beautiful.

“Wow,” Dane said, blown away by it all.

“I really worked hard on curating unique experiences for all my guests,” Drew replied, smiling as Dane walked around his villa and took it all in. “And first on the agenda for your Ultimate Relaxation and Rejuvenation package is a whole spa day.” 

Dane turned and beamed at Drew. “Lead the way then Drew. I’m so excited for this.”

Drew smiled back and handed Dane his key card for the villa, before he led the way back up the path to the spa. As he looked around, Dane noticed a staff member at the hotel that looked like Drew. Then another one that drove a buggy. And then another at the front desk of the spa. The Drew working at the spa chuckled. “Yep, this whole resort is run by me.”

Dane laughed, impressed. “That’s amazing. So you could basically clone yourself?”

Spa-Drew nodded as he took things from Reception-Drew, leading Dane into a massage room. Dane quickly stripped out of his beach shorts and hopped onto the massage bed, while Spa-Drew placed a pair of AirPods into his ears, which began to play calming jazz music, canceling out all the noise and letting Dane doze off to sleep as Spa-Drew got to work. Once he knew that Dane was completely asleep, thanks to the binaural beats he added to keep Dane asleep in a deep trance, Drew took out a magical kit of essential oils, ointments, scrubs and tools. He smirked, and opened the bottle of plumeria essential oil.

Rubbing some between his hands, Drew began massaging Dane, kneading his back muscles and defining them even more till they were shredded. Reaching his shoulders, Drew built up Dane’s traps, and broadened his shoulders just a bit, his hands defining Dane’s delts, then worked his way down his arms and sculpting them like clay, defining them even further till they looked more youthful and strong. As Drew rubbed the oil all over Dane through the massage, a golden sun-kissed tan began to seep across Dane’s body, washing out his pale white skin until it looked like he spent a lot of time at the beach, and all his body hair receded, leaving him smooth and supple like a baby.

Drew smirked as he peeled off the towel that covered Dane’s ass. Lathering his cheeks up with more oil, he massaged them and rounded them up till they were bubbly yet firm with muscle. Finishing up the backside, Drew knuckled down on Dane’s thighs, shaping them till they were like well-defined tree trunks, and softly pressed on his calves till they gained a more aesthetic diamond shape. Upon reaching his feet, Drew squeezed every part –stretching Dane’s toes, knuckling his soles and pressing his ankles, till Dane’s feet shrunk by just a bit to accommodate his now slightly shorter stature.

Drew took a good look at Dane’s backside before turning him over, lifting Dane up with ease as if he were a paper doll. Once Dane was fully turned around, Drew chuckled as he continued pouring more oil all over Dane’s body. Fondling Dane’s pecs, Drew squeezed the soft, supple man-tits till the hairs receded and the pecs were more sculpted and firm with muscle, then worked down on his abs and sculpted each one till the ridges were sharply defined and looked like a washboard. Since the legs were technically done, Drew simply ran his oiled-up hands over the quads and shins, which caused any remaining leg hairs to completely disappear, then lifted up Dane’s arms to pour a strong, musky oil into it, rubbing it into his pits until the rest of his body began emanating the same intense smell.

Dane’s body was completely transformed, from looking like a big muscular Daddy to a young bodybuilder physique, but Drew wasn’t quite done yet. He smirked as he lifted the still-sleeping Dane across the room to a parlor chair, then grabbing the rest of his tools. First things first, Drew applied some shaving cream onto Dane’s face, massaging it deep into his jaw, then pulled out a razor and began shaving off all of Dane’s stubble and precious mustache. No stubble or facial hair was left behind, as Drew left Dane’s face squeaky clean like a baby. Grabbing the aftershave, he mixed it with some of the plumeria oil and massaged it into Dane’s face. It began to reshape, as his skin began to pull tighter as it regained its youth, pulling Dane back a few years in appearance till it looked like he was in his mid-20s, but the aftershave prevented him from growing any facial hair again. 

As he kept up his work, Drew massaged the upper part of Dane’s face, the golden tan creeping up and washing his face, as Drew reshaped Dane’s eyes to have a more almond-like, distinctly Asian shape, while plucking out his eyebrows to define them further and make them look less bushy. Carefully, Drew opened Dane’s eyes and popped in a pair of dark brown, permanent contacts, and pierced Dane’s ears with simple silver diamond studs, making him look even more youthful. Finally, Drew pulled out a pair of scissors, a shaver and a comb, and cut off Dane’s luscious locks till his hair was shorter, with tapered fades on the sides, like a jock’s type of haircut, then topped it off by rubbing some coconut oil into hi hair until Dane’s rich brown waves turned jet black and straight. Dane was too deep in slumber to notice anything amiss, or even feel what was going on, he just felt very relaxed.

Once it was all finished, within just an hour of Dane’s arrival at the resort, Spa-Drew handed Dane over to one of the other Drews, who took him back to his villa, and dressed him up in a tank top, gym shorts and sneakers, and pulled out the AirPods. The magic of the massage and the oils Drew used had definitely rejuvenated him, and had helped rebuild the strength of his magical powers, but gave him a completely new appearance.

It was around sunset when Dane finally woke up, feeling plenty rested after having slept for most of the day. He smiled. “Fuck me, that –” Dane shut his mouth. His voice. It sounded different. Younger, for sure, but it wasn’t the deep, gravelly voice he knew to be his own. He looked down and saw a fitter, more shredded body than his, and his eyes widened. He rushed over to the mirror, and finally saw what had happened – he looked nothing like how he came in – he now had the appearance of a young Asian jock.

“Do you like the new look?” Drew said, leaning against the doorframe leading to the cove. “Enjoy your vacation, Dane. Just relax, get away from it all, and enjoy the new body – it’s yours until you get bored of it!” Drew chuckled as he ran off, leaving Dane stunned.

How will he explain this to Wavell when he goes back?

-----

I hope you all enjoyed this story!

Speaking of commissions, I will be opening up commissions to everyone very soon - keep your eyes peeled for a detailed post on it!

You can also tip me over on ko-fi, if you can't or don't want to commission! You don't have to tip me, but any support is always welcome.

[erinwantstowrite]

i feel like if you released a 24 hour + video of you talking about your plans for your original book i would sit and watch all of that with no breaks. so: would you be willing to share at least the bare bones of the plot you have now? or even some tropes that would be in it? or maybe random questions like how many main characters? how many povs? if it's sci-fi or fantasy? just stuff like that!

ahhhh!! i'd love to talk about them because they're constantly rotating in my brain!! i hope this doesn't get too long but we all know me, i can never stop yapping 😭

(okay this is present erin editing before posting and yeah this got long guess who called it. anyways there's art and stuff under the cut as well)

(Marked this as mature with violence only because there is an image below where I drew injuries/cuts on a character)

This book has been a thousand different books in all kinds of settings, plots, lessons, etc, and that's because I've had these characters since I was in middle school. At first I was so obsessed with them that I'd write and draw them all the time, to the point that my teachers were concerned I wasn't paying attention. I was seriously into magic and fantasy at the time because Harry Potter books were still the epitome of writing to my middle school brain. Ruby was a wizard with a bird theme that lived in the countryside and one day found out that her town was "alive" in a sense... But after I lost that sketchbook with all of the details (devastated to this day), and started venturing into other books series and shows, etc, I sort of forgot about the og story or what it was like. What remained was a love for the characters I had made over anything else about them, so I'd end up writing stories with a different theme each time, but the ocs being the same, just with their backgrounds shifted. (Around the time I was obsessed with VLD, Ruby was in a sci-fi plot set on a planet in another solar system.)

One of the most recent iterations was Ruby and the other characters essentially struggling to understand death, life, and everything in between. The story is called "Behind the Blue Glass" and I still really like that title lol. All of them had died on the same day, at the same time, just in various different ways, and then all of them came back to life in the same manner. They all developed different powers from the experience: Liam could float/manipulate gravity), August's body was essentially a phantom that could go through objects and disappear, Vin could possess people, Jean had an empathy link with the dead and could talk to and see them clearly, and Maya could figure out someone's cause of death/also tell when people were about to die. As for Ruby, she's the only one who can move freely between the land of the living and the land of the dead. It's different from Jean seeing the dead, as she's still in the land of the living.

The plot of that story was Ruby having dreams/visions of these other people she had never met before and knowing she needed to find them and set "something" right, but she didn't know what. She sets out to find them anyways, and they each join her on her quest to find everyone simply because they never got an answer to how they came back from the dead and find it weird that they all died on the same day and time. They solve deaths of ghosts they come across, meet people who are still grieving lost ones, have to lay some of the ghosts down to rest- all while figuring out why these shady people have started following them and trying to stop them from figuring out what happened to them. I even made some first draft titles (definitely, 10000% inspired by PJO because I was reading it at the time):

to top it all off, it's set in the 2010's I believe? Around that time. Just because I think more books should write about the time era

I have some (recentish) art of the characters:

first image: (Liam on the right, August on the left)

this is what Ruby looked like when I was first designing them for the story:

They're meant to look dead-ish but this art was SO long ago when I wasn't confident in my art so Ruby just looks like a wet rat or smth idk what is going on here

And here's Vin!! I don't hate this drawing of him that much, surprisingly, but this was also drawn a while ago

and this was some art i was planning at the time:

i think that's all of the art that i have for this story (at least on this computer. My old laptop might have more but it's been laid to rest)

to be honest, i'm still thinking about writing this story, but Ruby's name would be changed because at this point, this iteration of her character is VERY different from present day. She's two different characters at this point 💀 that's how you know I've had her for SO long because she looks so different from her original drawings.

The latest version of Ruby ended up in a story with completely different characters in the cast and a completely different setting (even if some of the characters were inspired by their og versions). It's called "The Clocktower's Chime"

It's very much inspired by those reincarnation manhwas. I like those stories but they all have the same plot over and over, and while I was more interested in the versions where the character is sent back in time to live their life again but with all the knowledge they had in the future, I always struggled with the aspect that the characters' mental age is far older than they are. It makes the dynamics a little weird, but they can be excused unless it's a romantic dynamic, I would think? I dunno, it was hard to get into the plots mostly because of that.

So I used Ruby as a placeholder OC and came up with a story where upon their death in the future, someone casts a spell or a god sends them back, and instead of having a mental older age, they get a journal with all of the details of their future. Ruby woke up one day and found a journal written by herself that detailed everything about her future up to the point of her death. It was more like a book, however, rather than a journal. It just looked like a journal because it was in her handwriting.

So Ruby gets this book, doesn't believe it at all, until she notices that there are way too many "coincidences" lining up with the events of the book. She starts believing it could be true, and then decides it must be when she finds out that a prominent family in the country she lives in is going to visit her hometown. In the book, they were there because they learned that Ruby was their daughter that had been kidnapped as a baby and believed dead. However, in the book, Ruby had spent her entire life living as a weapon instead of a daughter, and she died by their hands when she refused to kill a woman that is prophesized to end a war that would devastate both countries.

Ruby is, like, 12 at that point. So her kid brain is like "obviously I run away and go to school in a different country and tell everyone I have a different name and there's no way this could go wrong." Except before she can even do that, she runs into Julias Parlia, a Duke's son from the country that is supposed to be her enemy in the future. Ruby is like "shit this is THE worst adult to run into and I haven't even gotten to the running away part of my plan" and Julias ends up being the reason she doesn't even get to the train station. He's fucking hilarious by the way. He's got a well adjusted family with two loving parents and a bunch of little siblings and he basically picks Ruby up by the scruff of her neck and is like "I want this one she's insane."

This is Julias (kneeling on the ground to talk to Ruby) and Emelie (Julias' knight and childhood friend, she's so silly)

and this is the part where I share art from many months ago... when I posted my most recent art and said Ruby keeps getting buffer every time I draw her, I meant it 💀

Ruby and her love interest, Cecelia

This is Vekenti, a character that was also supposed to be a "villain" in the original timeline. Ruby goes looking for him to prevent his death as well, and Julias obviously is like "Omg another weird kid, how delightful!" Everyone thinks Vikenti and Ruby are related, but they are not. They're just raised as siblings in both timelines and have a lot of the same mannerisms

Julias' love interest (unnamed? I can't find her name anywhere) and him

REALLLY old drawings of what they looked like in the OG timeline (I desperately need to redesign these because I could do better now)

Julias and Ruby again

and that's all the art I have for this one (besides the other post of Ruby I posted today, this is the story that that version of Ruby belongs in. She's looks very different now!).

All of this has been in the back of my mind for a while, and I've been trying to figure out which story I would want to write first. Middle school Erin would love for me to finally write Behind the Blue Glass, but sometimes I find myself wanting to write a fantasy story like Clocktower's Chime a lot more

[jk1spring]

I have a request if you’re willing to draw them. My OC is an icewing-rainwing hybrid named Opal whose scales are most bright red and deep blue, with patterns like spilled water in white on her wings and other spots on her neck and body. Her spikes and mostly on her tail and the edge on her wings that helps her fight. Her eyes are also blue and she has little jewelry, a clear glass bracelet and matching earrings. She has venom, and she LOVES reading, is bold, talkative, smart, sometimes mean to enemies, and fights well. She has a boyfriend, a dark red skywing (possible nightwing ancestors, doesn’t really matter but like it’s fun) named Sun. He’s also fairly big despite his young age, and has a spiral pattern in much lighter reds down his neck and wings. He something like a choker that’s black and gold. He loves history and fantasy, has a bit of an anger problem, terrible self esteem, is nice and enjoys hunting. Both are around 7, and that’s about it. May I come back when I invent friends for them? Just two friends.

here you go!

during their time at the compound sun lost his choker and has a habit of using his illusion mask to make it look like the choker is still there. Opal is a main form of communication between the other subjects and often sells information gathered with the invisibility power of her information mask. She sells the info for extra food that sun needs.

(realizing sun looks a lot like kestrel. Feel free to send me the new ones you make + everyone else's OC's!)