#but i loved these parts and couldn't resist

[gul-dukat89]

Quentin and his buddy Drake had always placed bets on the games when it came to their two teams facing off against each other. And usually it was money bets. They never went over $100 if their team lost to the other. This had been going on for several years.

This year, Drake had decided to take their friendly wagers on the games to a different level. He wanted to experience bragging rights when his team won. Drake's team was the Los Angeles Rams. They were the San Francisco 49ers biggest rival. He thought of a new addition to their bet.

"I propose we bet something different on this weekend's game. One that includes major bragging rights at the expense of the loser." Drake proposed, waiting to see if Quentin would be interested in a change.

"So if we aren't betting money, what are you proposing, we bet? What should the winner get if he wins?" Quentin asked with a curious look on his face.

"This time, the winner truly gets bragging rights." Drake paused as he pulled out his TF Shrink Ray device to show it to Quentin. "The winner gets to turn the loser into anything displaying the winning teams name for a week. The winner out of the two of us really gets to show bragging rights."

Quentin thought about it. It really intrigued him. He had been wanting a good pair of 48ers shorts to wear to the gym. This was one way to get a pair without paying for one. "I actually love your idea. I need a pair of 49ers shorts for the gym." He laughed.

"My Rams will win, and you will be a nice Rams shirt for me to wear all week." Drake countered back as both shook hands on the agreement.

On the weekend, Drake agreed to watch the game over at Quentin's place to show how confident he was of the Rams winning. He was so ready for a nice Rams jersey fresh and new.

As both watched intently, he rooted for their team every time they scored a touchdown or field goal kick. When the final score was earned in the last five seconds of the 4th quarter, it showed the 49ers beating the Rams by 2 points. It was a really close game down to the end.

Drake looked on disappointed at the ending score. It meant that he would have to display the 49ers name for a whole week. Yet a deal was a deal. He hands the TF Shrink Ray over to Quentin without any resistance. It was only for a week, he convinced himself over the decision.

Quentin smiles as he puts in the settings on the device and fires it at Drake. He watched as his buddy rapidly shrunk in size. His skin changed to red and turned like cloth. In a couple of minutes, there was a nice new pair of 49ers shorts on the couch beside him. He picked them up and examined them. They seemed perfect. He thought about talking to his shorts, but that sounded ridiculous. He wanted to treat Drake just like what he appeared to be, his property, and an article of clothing.

THREE DAYS LATER.....

Drake was only just three days into his seven days as 49ers shorts, and he was already regretting his willing decision. Quentin had worn him to the gym all three days. Each day was intense, sweat, and grind. Each day, he came back reeked of a strong musk odor. Quentin would wash and dry him to wear him the next day to do it all over again. At least one time, Quentin jerked off in him, not wearing any underwear. He felt so degraded, not to mention that he was stuck wearing the name of a team he didn't like much.

ONE MONTH LATER......

Quentin had just gotten back from the gym wearing his favorite shorts. After one week, he simply couldn't part with them as originally agreed. He wanted to keep his shorts. They were super comfortable and durable. He simply had to keep them. He hoped Drake would understand at least one day. He had deleted the reverse data from his device so that there was no way to change him back. He never spoke to his shorts ever. It would look strange if he did. Drake was nothing but his 49ers shorts now.

[diy-dynamite]

Longing for Home (1)

Mr. Crawling x Reader || feminine terms used (wedding dress 😭) so I think this is for the fems... I'm sorry guys

Contents: spoilers for one of Homicipher's endings that I don't remember, NOT a part of my "Television" series (but I might make a version of this for that)

********

YOU never found your way back home. With your skin stained with red, rash-like patches, and with your body slowly conforming through regenerative cycles, your home is no longer the one you knew.

This is your home.

Your home is in this strange building.

Your home is in the room next to Mr. Silvair and Mr. Chopped's.

Your home is on one of the two hospital beds that stand next to each other.

Your home is standing in front of you.

Or crawling, rather.

He was leading you back to the room after your usual wandering, collecting cute trinkets from the piles that fell from the human world. You came back with an arm full of things, and surprisingly, the majority were makeup.

Not the major glam kind, but stuff like lip gloss, lipstick, mascara, and powdery stuff for the eyes that you can't remember—and it hurts that you forgot what it was.

You laid them out on your bed, Mr. Crawling sitting on the ground next to you, looking at what you brought back with a puzzled look on his face.

He called all of them "things," which isn't entirely wrong.

Pop! An idea went off in your sneaky little head.

"You like me?" you asked out of the blue, turning to him with lip gloss in hand.

He tilted his head and chirped a little, ridiculing your question. "I like you? I love you many. You tired?" he asked, as if to say, "Is the fatigue messing with you?"

You laughed. He smiled. "Not tired!" you explained, then you sat down in front of him. You gestured him closer, so he did as you asked and crawled a couple of inches closer to you.

"You do something for me," you said.

"...?"

"Don't move."

...

"Don't move!!" you laughed, finally putting lipstick on him properly. He was struggling to hold still, the feeling of the lipstick irritating him.

"So cute!" you said, hoping to calm him down with a compliment as you shut the lipstick lid. "Cute! Cute!"

"Strange..." he mumbled, reaching up to wipe it off, but he didn't do it. He couldn't. Not when you said he was cute this way. "I cute...?"

You nodded, beaming brightly, and he couldn't resist it, so he didn't remove the lipstick.

As you rummaged in your little collection, you found a magazine full of ladies with white, majestic, beautiful dresses. Almost like The Bride's, but way more... lively.

No.

Way more alive.

Just how long will it take for you to lose all that feeling?

No—if you long for it, then it must've already been missing.

The home you knew is a place you can never reach again.

That's where your heart is. That's why your chest feels so hollow.

Do you even have a heart anymore?

You pressed a hand against your chest, and you felt a pang of envy for the smiling woman and man on the front page. Technically, you were never alone. You had Mr. Crawling!

That didn't help how you felt, though.

Jealousy.

Longing, nostalgia, and jealousy.

A longing for that human feeling, a nostalgia for your childhood dreams, and jealousy, because you no longer had that within your reach while others do.

You threw the magazine over your shoulder, and you buried your face on your mattress, knees still on the floor, and you tried to get rid of the heaviness on your chest.

You didn't cry.

It just... hurts.

***

It felt like ages—Mr. Crawling came in and out, bringing in various people to try and check on you after his own attempts failed. Mr. Silvair didn't do anything. He didn't know what to do. Mr. Chopped tried to console you with his silly faces—the expressions you showed and taught him with your own face—but to no avail. He even dragged in Mr. Stitch—and he hates that fellow—albeit bloody from Mr. Crawling forcing him to follow, but you didn't look up at all. He shoved Mr. Stitch right back out once he didn't work, though.

He was starting to panic. You never did this before.

He tried to think back to anyone else who you seemed to tolerate the presence of, but... oh!

The pile of pages you threw! That was the last thing that you touched before you shut yourself off!

He picked it up, looking at it with a puzzled coo. He didn't understand it, but he noticed that in most of the pages, there were people like you who were smiling happily together. He wondered why.

Oh! Maybe you wanted a new dress! Is that it?

He glanced at you and tried to show you the book again, but you only inched away. At least he knew now not to do that again....

He quickly left the room and glanced down the halls.

Then with one huff, he recited: "Clothes!"

"Clothes?"

He giggled when he saw The Bride appear.

"You hurt...?" she pointed at his face. Specifically, his mouth.

Mr. Crawling proudly showed it off, smiling. "They put it. They say I cute."

She raised a white dress, trying to offer it to him, but he shook his head.

"They sad," he said. He raised the book. "Clothes."

The Bride, elegant and poised, glanced at the book with her non-existant eyes (and head). "Wonderful! Wonderful, cute!"

"Clothes," he pointed at one of the dresses. He liked this one, specifically, where the dress wasn't as puffy as the others, but not as skinny. There were white clothes for the hands (gloves) and for the legs (stockings), and there was a strange but aesthetically pleasing clump of cloth on the back (a rose made of silk).

"They look cute, this."

"I make!" The Bride nodded eagerly. If she had a head, she'd be smiling the same way the humans in the book were. "I make, I give!"

It didn't take long—she disappeared, and Mr. Crawling waited outside your door for only a moment until she came back with an even prettier version of the dress.

Mr. Crawling, trying to contain his excitement, chirped happily and let The Bride enter your room.

You were still there, curled over your bed, but you were putting the same red thing you put on his.

If he had eyes, they'd be sparkling. He had no idea what you did to yourself, but you looked... even better than you already did. Which is saying something—you were everything to him, and now you have such a pretty shade over your eyes, and your lips were like his!

"You hurt?!" The Bride gasped again.

You let out a strained laugh. Mr. Crawling knew it wasn't a real one. "Not hurt. I... make me cute."

"You cute! Before!" The Bride said. "Cute now, cute before."

"They cute," Mr. Crawling agreed simply. "Give! Give!" he urged the ghost-woman in white.

"Give," she extended the dress to you.

You stared.

And stared.

And you... began to cry.

Mr. Crawling panicked, and so did The Bride. There you were, kneeling next to your bed with tears running down your face. Mr. Crawling immediately took his place beside you, holding your head in his hands as he tried to console you.

"I sorry," he said, but he didn’t know what for. "I sorry, don't sad... I sorry—"

He would've apologised on and on if it weren't for how the black streaks appeared from your eyes.

You looked even prettier to him.

He loved it when you smiled, but he dies a little more than he already did, figuring out that you were so pretty when you cried.

"No, no," you said, wiping the black gunk off your face. "I—I love—" you pointed at the dress. "So—so wonderful, can't—can't.... You...!"

Your shaky hands held his face, and he didn't know what to do.

"You... kind... can't cry not," you continued to sob.

"...you kind," he mumbled in return. He's still confused, though.

***

Did this ho just assume you wanted a new dress??? Because he wasn't entirely wrong. Or maybe that's just you trying to justify it all.

Even if you tried, you can't stop crying. He doesn't comprehend the layers of what you feel yet, but he still tried, and you can't. Stop. Crying.

"You're so sweet," you began to ramble in your own language. You cupped his cheek with your hand and your lower lip trembled. "You're so sweet and nice and you always look after me and I—agh, I can't—I hate how nice you are, it's annoying, I love you so much," you sobbed.

He didn't understand at all. Even you yourself didn't—you're losing your knowledge in your own language and you can't stop crying.

You're sad. You're angry, you're missing what you used to have, you're happy, you—

Your weeping calmed.

You realised something.

A sliver of human shame entered your face, embarrassment for crying, but as well as another thing. You can't quite tell what it is.

Mr. Crawling seemed hopeful, leaning a little closer to make sure you're okay.

You wiped your tears away and stood up, hoping they'd just forget about it.

"Thank you," you said to The Bride. She seemed confused, but so were you, so it's fine. "I appreciate. Clothes, wonderful."

"Thank you," she clasped her hands together as you took the dress away. "You are wonderful. Farewell," she hesitated but left, anyway.

"You ask they make clothes for me?" you asked Mr. Crawling, going behind the curtain that separated the two beds.

He tilted his head. "Yes."

"I appreciate," you said, wiping your face down with the blankets of the other bed.

After a moment of shuffling into the new dress, you suddenly froze.

Were you gonna cry again...?

No, no—you were nervous.

Why?

You glanced over your shoulder to see Mr. Crawling, expectant, and, as before, confused.

You peeked your head out, and he lit up with a smile. "I unsure."

"....?" he frowned a little. "Unsure?"

~~~

"Honey, I'm not sure."

"What? Why?" he laughed. "We did agree to this, right?" he joked. You would've laughed, but right now, your thoughts were too clouded for you to even form a grin.

"Yeah, but..." you bit your tongue, wary.

Your fiance—no, your husband laughed. "Sweetheart, nothing will go wrong. It's just a superstition."

But what if it isn't?

You glanced down at yourself, clad in a shiromuku. You heard one of the guests say they'd "go home" (a superstition in Japan that they say might jinx the marriage). What if something bad happens, now?

Before you could overthink, his hands clasped over yours, his long, black hair only sealing his own black-coloured attire, his effortless ethereality catching you off guard again.

"No matter what happens, I'll be right next to you. It doesn't matter what the guests say," he said, pressing a light kiss on your knuckles.

You felt your cheeks bloom, and your heart only sunk deeper in the well of love you carried for him.

"And as much as you're adorable when you cry...." he then said, so you smacked his arm with a playful laugh. He responded with a giggle of his own and only held you closer.

"Let's head back inside, okay?" he smiled and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. "Staying in the garden for too long might make the guests assume something."

That earned him another smack, and that made him give you another laugh.

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, but there wasn't any. He just wanted to hold your face.

He smiled.

"I love you so much."

********

This is already way too long so I'll just have to make a part 2 SIGH

[lewmagoo]

if you ever get a chance or would like to, do you think you could possibly write a little something based off of the post below with rhett? you write him so well and since you reblogged it earlier, i haven’t been able to stop thinking about it 🤭 (you can totally ignore this if you’d rather not)

ask and ye shall receive!

you couldn't believe he'd let you do this. oh, how far he'd come, from being too proud to admit he liked when you took the reins, to now. thighs spread wide, ankles tied to the legs of the chair, wrists tied the handles. you'd used the roping techniques he'd taught you to bind him to the chair. and you had to admit, he looked so pretty all trussed up for you. entirely naked. cock hard and heavy, resting against his thigh.

he was looking at you, eyes wide, chest heaving. you'd just put on a show of stripping for him, teasing him to no end as you rid yourself of each article of clothing. one thing about rhett was, he loved touching you, so being tied down and forced to watch you show off your beautiful body was torture for him. "just look at you," you mused, as you sauntered toward him. his gaze never left you, not once. "where'd my big, bad cowboy go, hm? earlier you were spittin' mad and running your mouth. but the second i tie you down you turn into a demure little kitten."

you didn't miss the way his cheeks burned red. it was a sight to behold. the shift in his demeanor was clear. gone were his narrowed eyes and tightened jaw, replaced by a wide gaze and a slack mouth. "m-maybe i wanted y' to tie me down," he admitted, throat bobbing as he swallowed. you couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. it was too easy. of course he would misbehave on purpose. he craved being put in his place. surrendering the weight of responsibility, if only for a little while, was always what he needed to get his head back on straight.

"yeah? needed me to take control for a little bit?" you cooed, leaning down to kiss him. it was languid and erotic, and he eagerly parted his mouth to let your tongue onside. as you kissed him, you trailed your hand down his chest, across his abdomen, and finally, you settled with it hovering just over his twitching, aching, leaking cock. he gasped against your mouth as he felt the heat of your palm just barely touching him. deciding to tease him further, you resisted touching him fully, waiting to see how he'd react. he grunted low in his chest and tried to push his hips up, chasing your hand.

"please," he gritted out, tugging at his restraints. "don't fuckin' tease me. 'm so hard, i..." he trailed off, tongue loose in his mouth, words slurred. when he got like this, all needy and desperate, that confident swagger left him. he was putty in your hands. you could ask him to do anything, and he'd do it. if only everyone could see him now. big, gruff rhett abbott. begging you to touch his cock. to make him come.

you simply smiled at his begging, ducking down to kiss his forehead. "poor thing." you trailed your fingertip along the underside of that thick shaft, touch featherlight, barely there. he let out a strangled grunt. "you're such a needy little slut." mouth open, he nodded, eyes locked on your hand, silently pleading with you to wrap it around him. with your free hand, you threaded your fingers through his curls and tugged his head back so he was looking at you. "admit it. say what you are."

his mouth opened and closed a few times. his flush had creeped up to his ears now, ruby red. but once again, he'd do anything you asked. "i-i'm your..." his eyes squeezed shut, and he finished off his statement in a whisper. "needy little slut." but that wasn't good enough. you yanked sharply on his hair, and he gasped, jolting against the chair.

if you looked down, you'd see how badly his cock was leaking. "say it louder, so i can hear you," came your command. you took your hand away, and the pathetic whine he let out sent a rush of heat through you. when you noticed his bottom lip quiver, you bit back a victorious smile.

"i'm your needy little slut." he said it loud and clear that time. afraid you'd deny him pleasure if he didn't. he was so painfully hard, and he just needed relief. he knew you weren't above making him get off by himself, or worse, denying him permission to come at all. he was determined to be your good boy so you would give him the release he needed.

"there you go, such a good boy," came your praise. you wrapped your hand fully around that gorgeous cock of his, and he let out a broken moan, his head lolling back and his lashes fluttering. you looked down, biting your lip as you swirled your thumb around his tip, gathering the slick trail of pre-cum that glistened there. "you're so wet. just leaking all over the place," you mused.

"c-can't help it," he grunted, hips rolling up. the squelch of his own arousal was an obscene sound. he might've been embarrassed about it if he wasn't so fucked out already. and then he watched you kneel before him, and he swore he'd lose his mind entirely. you held eye contact with him as you opened your mouth and swirled your tongue around him. when you began to inch down, he gripped at the arms of the chair, bracing himself. being enveloped in your warm, wet mouth was otherworldly.

"since you did what i asked, i'm gonna make you feel so good, honey," you cooed, once you'd pulled off of him, nuzzling your cheek against his dick. "gonna drain these heavy balls and make this pretty cock come down my thoat." good lord, his brain was short-circuiting already. he nearly blacked out when you took him in your mouth again, this time to the back of your throat. his moan was strangled, and he nearly lost himself right then and there. however, he knew better than to do so without asking permission first. and by the looks of it, you were not going to give him permission anytime soon. in fact, you were going to draw this out until he was sobbing, begging, pleading. then, and only then, would you let him come. after all, you loved to make your cowboy work for it.

[couldawouldashoulda50]

From Completely Different Worlds - The Sweden Chapter - Part Six

Previous parts 1 2 3 4 5 In continuation of @misshoneyimhome's birthday celebration, here is Part 6 of The Sweden Chapter

A/N - I had some fun writing this part which is a little indulgent but I feel it also lends itself to some important and intimate moments between William and Loren. I hope you like it.

Warnings - profanity, alcohol consumption (not excessive), general smut (oral m and f receving, sex (p in v)) Images of Loren belong to Laura Celia

Word count - approx 9k

18+ only please - jumps in right under the cut.

"Mmmmph… Loren…"

"Oui?"

"Fuck… grrrmph… Loren… uuurgrmph… uuurgrmph… don't stop… don't stop…"

William's legs shot straight out as he grasped Loren's hair. Her lips held his shaft still as her tongue swirled repeatedly around the tip of William's cock.

"Mmmmmmmm…" Loren let out a long moan which barely could be heard over the guttural groan from William as he unloaded into her mouth. She continued with the same motion over his tip until William's body started to jolt from the stimulation.

With a slight air of satisfaction mixed with a touch of disappointment, she sensed that it might be a little too much for him to keep going for another round. That's how much Loren loved sucking William's cock… the first round was just an "amuse-bouche" (couldn't resist the pun). Oftentimes, much to William's good fortune and delight, Loren wasn't satiated until he came at least once more. He didn't question the whys of the love Loren had for giving him blow jobs… he just did his best to make sure he reciprocated—often. Truth be told, he loved making her squirm just as much as she enjoyed watching his muscles spasm as he came.

"Holy fuck—I saw stars for a minute…" William pressed his palms against both eyes and exhaled a long breath, still reeling from his orgasm. He laid his head back on the settee, and said with a chuckle "So… this—this is Loren in Paris, hmm?"

Loren was busy kissing the softer area on William's torso. "This is Loren anywhere in the world when she has William Nylander all to herself in a locked room," she mumbled, lips still pressed against his skin. "But yes, Paris does add a certain something…"

Loren remained kneeling between William's splayed thighs, running her hands along his chiseled legs and up his chest. William moaned softly with each butterfly kiss Loren pressed against his skin, his fingers gently smoothing her hair as he kept his eyes closed and head tilted back.

William and Loren had only arrived in Paris a handful of hours prior to that moment, and already he was immersed in complete bliss.

As she gracefully rose to stand, William gently pulled her on top of him, guiding her into a cozy straddle. Loren looked down at his stunning face and was momentarily awestruck with his masculine beauty. She felt so lucky - it was almost bewildering to think what her life had looked like for the past handful of years, to where she was at that very second.

She smiled softly as her hands gently cradled his face, her one thumb lightly ran along his upper lip feeling the texture of that moustache—the one that few men could sport and make it look as good as only William could. She lowered her mouth first onto one cheekbone, and then the other. She continued down along his jawline, under his chin to his neck whispering "Thank you" in between the last few kisses. She kept whispering her appreciation as visiting Paris was a distant goal she set long into her future. William had now made it a reality for her.

As she kissed him tenderly down his neck, savoring the taste of his skin and his arms around her, William felt he needed to convey more of his appreciation to Loren. He already had developed deep feelings for her, but with the way she enriched his life, it made him feel like he needed to express something more meaningful towards her. Loren had shown him more patience, compassion, and understanding than he could hope for - and all of this even before knowing what they even were together. Her actions, regardless if they were big or small, were genuine and true and given freely with no hint of an ulterior motive.

Even the moments Loren would consider insignificant, William cherished them deeply. The times when she often would surprise William with small tokens when she used to visit him in the city—usually food-related items which stemmed from their casual conversations. Though she'd often downplay her gifts, saying "it's not much," William had to remind her that her thoughtfulness was the thing that held all the value in the world.

William found himself thinking about their potential future together. Given his career and personal needs, he wondered if he could ever truly express his gratitude for the devotion and support he knew Loren would bring into his life.

Paris, he hoped, was a good beginning. William had a few ideas of places he wanted to take her—a dinner here, an excursion there—but the rest of the City of Lights was entirely at Loren’s fingertips.

He had already witnessed her awestruck expression when they landed at Charles de Gaulle Airport. She had nearly held his hand too tightly as she took in every sight from the limo window, chatting animatedly with the driver, an older gentleman who seemed equally charmed by her. Each time William watched her experience something new—whether it was a novel sushi restaurant, the way she doted on him the first night he stayed at her house, or her excitement while touring around Stockholm—he found he could never tire of her reactions. She was so expressive, brimming with interest and gratitude, that his cheeks often ached from the wide smiles she constantly brought to his face.

William smoothed his hand up her back as she remained straddling his lap. “It’s the least I could do…. with you coming here and everything. I just couldn’t….” William softly moaned with a light chuckle as Loren switched to the other side of his neck, kissing a trail down across the ridge of muscle along his shoulder “….couldn’t stop…fuck - couldn’t stop thinking how much I missed you.”

Although she never articulated it verbally, William knew she had missed him too. He sensed it every time she returned his gaze - she communicated volumes with her eyes alone.

Continuing to kiss and caress his neck with her lips, Loren’s hand made its way from William’s partially bare chest to the nape of his neck as her fingers played with the longer strands of his hair on the back of his head.

She kissed him tenderly on the forehead, torn between her desire to continue expressing her gratitude and her concern about overdoing it. Loren's glance drifted from William past the opening of the French doors to the red flowers that cascaded over the railings of their private terrace.

For Loren, everything within her line of sight felt so profoundly special; she tried to absorb every detail and reveling in the beauty of her surroundings. For the next few days, she and William would call the luxurious Imperiale Suite their home. The suite boasted breathtaking views of the Arc de Triomphe and the Champs-Élysées, with the Eiffel Tower gracing the horizon. Loren had to swallow back her emotions more than once to keep her composure in the sheer disbelief of where she was—and with whom. This was the most breathtaking and romantic gesture anyone had ever done for her; it truly felt like a dream.

Now that the hangover of the Summer Olympics had passed, and the oppressive heat wave the the city had been experiencing, the rain that evening was very much welcomed. What was also welcomed with the rain was the option to either stay within the perimeter of the hotel, or better yet, the perimeter of their lavish accommodations.

As the dinner hour approached, they opted for a light meal via room service. The rest of the evening was open-ended - a relaxing stroll to explore the property's luxury amenities, followed by enjoying signature cocktails at the hotel bar. William was an Aperol Spritz where Loren was the French 75.

And so ended their evening back in their suite, both glowing with the effects of a handful of cocktails and eager to once again express their adoration and affection for one another.

The day following their arrival was nothing short of idyllic. Together, they explored the vibrant streets around their hotel, indulging every sense. A five-minute walk brought them to the towering Arc de Triomphe, and a further twenty minutes led William to his personal mecca—the luxury shops of Dior, Louis Vuitton, and more. Loren was fascinated watching him browse the shelves, marveling at his diverse fashion sense. From shirts to watches to shoes, William’s tastes covered the full spectrum, embracing comfort, functionality, and class.

For William, equal delight came from watching Loren. Hearing her speak French was like listening to a symphony, and seeing her effortlessly engage with everyone they met—each shop clerk, each passerby—filled him with pride. She even managed to enlist a few older tourists for one of her future language video segments, her warm nature putting them instantly at ease.

As they wandered, William was once again reminded of what made Loren unique to him: her quiet modesty. She seemed perfectly content just browsing, occasionally stopping to admire something beautiful before walking away with a casual indifference that made him smile.

Though he appreciated her individual approach to fashion, William wanted Loren to feel free to choose clothing based on her taste, not her budget. Gently, he guided her into a women’s clothing boutique, only to be called outside to take a phone call as Loren wandered past the mannequins and racks of elegant attire.

A few minutes passed and William re-entered the store, giving a nod to the sales associate. He quietly approached Loren from behind, placing his hands on her hips as she looked at the high-end purses and shoes.

“Sorry about that - it was one of my sisters. See anything you like?”

Loren had actually. A pair of strappy sandals with stiletto heels. Every so often, her vice would appear in the form of “come fuck me heels”, and these particular pair were no exception.

She smiled as she ever so slightly leaned back against William. “Those - those sandals,” she said softly enough for William to lean closer to hear her. “With those, I wouldn't have to stand on my tippy-toes when you come after me from behind…”

“Jesus - hey, not fair…you can’t say stuff like that to me in public - you want me rockin’ a semi in the middle of the store?” William groaned lowly into her ear. “You gotta get those heels now - don’t torture me.”

Loren knew she couldn't afford them, but she didn't want to mention it. "Mmm, maybe another time," she said slyly. "Torturing you sounds too tempting to pass up."

“How about you just try them on - for me?” William planted soft kisses on her cheek trying to further persuade her.

Loren playfully rolled her eyes, amused at how easily she gave in to William but it wasn’t hard to understand why. “Fine,” she said, trying to suppress a smile.

Loren made eye contact with the sales associate who had been watching them from a distance. Smiling, the woman approached, her thoughts drifting affectionately to her own wonderful boyfriend, hard at work on the opposite end of the city.

She introduced herself as Odette, and as she spoke, Loren found herself spellbound by her deep, rich voice and heavy French accent.

The three made small talk, and soon Odette mentioned that it would be a crime for Loren to pass up the chance to try the shoes on. With her trained eye, Odette could already tell that Loren’s frame would be beautifully complemented by a tall heel.

After a quick scan of Loren’s cute, casual outfit, Odette asked if she’d humor her—strictly from a professional standpoint, of course—and try the shoes on with a sleek black dress she believed would enhance Loren’s look and truly showcase the sandals.

William’s eyes lit up, and he answered with a resounding “Yes!” before Loren could even open her mouth. She shot him a wide-eyed look before smirking at his enthusiasm, nodding her head in playful defeat as she turned back to Odette.

Odette offered both William and Loren glasses of champagne and disappeared to fetch the shoes and dress. As they waited, William leaned in, asking if there was anything else she liked. Loren chuckled and replied simply, “Everything.”

It was true. Everything in that boutique seemed to call to her, as if each piece could perfectly complement one of her many moods. Spending time with William had awakened her passionate, playful side, and she secretly wished she had the means to expand her wardrobe, especially in the intimates department.

She’d discovered that she felt most confident with sleek, shapely bras and panties beneath her usual work attire. Still, there was a part of her—much like the stilettos she admired—that yearned for sheer teddies, bodysuits, and bustiers, pieces she could “model” before seducing her Swedish lover with her mouth.

Loren’s mind drifted to her favorite new daydream of William in Paris, but she quickly snapped back to reality as Odette returned with the dress and shoes.

Odette poured William another glass of champagne before disappearing behind the velour drapes of the fitting area. Loren surprised Odette by switching to French, first apologizing that she might slip into Quebecois occasionally, and then for potentially wasting her time since she hadn’t planned on making any purchases. The sandals alone were close to a thousand euros, and the dress—though she’d loved it at first sight—was so far beyond her budget that she couldn’t even bring herself to look at the price.

[In French] “Loren, you’re not wasting my time. But your man—boyfriend? Husband?—he seems very keen to see you in these.” Odette smiled, scanning Loren from head to toe. “You have the perfect physique for these shoes. Are you a dancer?” She studied Loren’s frame with a practiced eye. “You have a dancer’s body.”

“I took ballet and other forms when I was young and kept it up until university,” Loren replied with a nostalgic smile.

“Thought so,” Odette said with a wink before exiting the fitting room. “Call if you need me—I’ll be close by.”

Much like the fitting rooms in the boutique Michelle had taken her to in Stockholm, the only mirrors were outside the changing area. Loren slipped out of her casual attire and into the heels and dress. She instantly felt transformed. The luxurious lacey material of the dress was one thing, but the shoes—adding height and accentuating her lean waist, all the way down to her slender ankles—made her feel seductive, sensual, and powerful.

Peeking out from behind the drape, Loren saw William and Odette chatting and waiting patiently. She stepped out and looked at her reflection in the enormous mirror, feeling a blend of excitement and shyness about meeting William’s gaze.

If she had looked his way, she would have seen his eyes light up, a wide grin spreading across his face. Yet even his outward reaction barely captured what he felt on the inside. Though he hadn’t known Loren for long, she had taken root inside him so naturally, so completely, that he was trying to make sense of the stirrings she awakened in him. Inviting her to Stockholm had been an impulsive decision, one that had surprised even him, but he knew it was rooted in more than a simple thank-you for her support during the playoffs. His parents had noticed it, too—they saw something deeper in his eyes when he spoke of her.

It’s no wonder a puzzle is often used as a metaphor for life, with certain people representing essential pieces. Loren was becoming that crucial piece—difficult to find at first, but once in place, bringing everything into focus.

She glanced over at William and Odette with a subtle bashfulness. “I don’t know that I’ve ever gone clothes shopping with a boy before. I feel a little exposed right now,” she chuckled.

William considered making a cheeky comment about how comfortable Loren had become exposing herself to him lately, but seeing her blush, he decided to keep it to himself.

What struck him most in that moment, aside from how disarming she looked, was a familiar expression he’d noticed before—usually when she was concerned about money. She clearly loved how the dress and shoes made her feel, but there was a hint of disappointment in her eyes, knowing they were financially out of reach. She could put them on credit, but Loren would stoically choose the disappointment of not buying something she wanted over the slippery slope of debt. She’d already allowed herself one indulgence at the Stockholm boutique, and that was her limit.

William had begun to recognize her sensitivity around finances and admired her disciplined approach to spending. He also knew how uncomfortable it made her when he offered to pay for—well, anything, really. It was why he’d kept this side trip to Paris a surprise until hours before they left.

In that moment, William decided that sometimes it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission. As Loren retreated into the fitting room, he approached Odette with a favor.

"Wakey-wakey, Sleeping Beauty," William murmured against Loren's shoulder. "There's a delivery here for you."

Loren’s eyes fluttered open, confused, as William rested his lips between her shoulder blades. Normally she would squeal and twist from him even breathing on one of the most ticklish spots on her body, but she was still half asleep and far too relaxed to react to it.

"Is that what we're calling it now?" Loren mumbled against the pillow.

Signature William laughter.

She slowly rubbed her hips back against him. "’Cause if the delivery isn't attached to you, I'm not sure I want it."

"Well, it's not attached to me… this time… but I think you'll like it," William replied with an affectionate squeeze around her waist.

Loren’s hand drifted overtop of William’s and she lifted it towards her mouth for a kiss. “Did you have a good nap?” William asked.

Loren smiled and nodded her head, still lightly kissing and stroking his fingers. “

“Good - I’ve got something planned for dinner tonight so we need to start getting ready.” William slid off the bed “But don’t get out of bed just yet - be right back.”

She sat up and adjusted the pillow against the headboard as she tucked the sheet under her arms. Seconds later, William returned with two shopping bags, both with the logo of Odette’s boutique.

Loren’s eyes widened instantly and darted toward William, momentarily stunned.

“William - what did you do?” Loren gasped in amazement as William extracted a shoe box from the first bag.

She lifted the lid from the box, and her eyes fell upon the stilettos she’d fallen for but reluctantly left behind in the store that morning. Her hand flew to her mouth, covering her gasp of surprise.

William knew she’d struggle to process his gesture. Loren was wired to be a giver, not a receiver, and he could already sense the gears turning in her head, likely crafting objections to—then gently rejecting—his gifts.

Before she could speak, he pulled out a second shoebox. With a grin, he explained that his plans for the evening involved a bit of walking, and although he’d gladly throw her over his shoulder (as he’d done effortlessly in the past), a lower heel might be more practical.

Loren had no idea what William had in mind. She knew he’d spoken with his sister—or sisters—throughout the day, though she wasn’t sure if it was one, some, or all of them. Whatever it was, William seemed incredibly excited.

She opened the second shoebox to find a pair of gorgeous leather slingbacks. Carefully, she lifted one shoe from the box, gazing at it before looking back at him, her voice soft.

“William—this is too much. I don’t know if I can accept these.”

“Look, Loren, I know you have this thing about letting people do nice things for you... but just this once, let me, okay?” He nodded toward the slingbacks. “Do you like them? Odette—yes, Odette, the saleswoman—suggested them, so if you don’t, blame her,” he chuckled.

Loren leaned close, her face just inches from his. “I love them… William, they’re beautiful. Let me throw something on, and I’ll take them for a spin.” She kissed him deeply, murmuring, “Thank you,” as her lips moved slowly from his.

She slinked off the mattress, naked, while William whistled appreciatively as she retrieved her bra and panties from their haphazard places—her bra draped over the corner of a chair and her panties at the foot of the bed.

“Wait—there’s something else… open the other bag,” William said with a grin.

Loren quickly fastened her bra, then eyed the larger bag, approaching the bed slowly, her gaze fixed on William as her face flushed with excitement.

William helped her pull a large, glossy box from the bag. Inhaling deeply, he lifted the lid and peeled back the smooth tissue paper. Inside lay a long, pale yellow satin gown, shimmering softly. Loren gasped, bringing her hands to her mouth as she recognized it. Although she hadn’t mentioned the dress to William or Odette, he somehow knew it had caught her eye while browsing.

Her eyes met his, filled with a mix of deep appreciation and hesitation. She ran her fingers gently over the smooth fabric. “William, I… I don’t know how to say thank you for all of this…” She glanced at the shoes, then back at William. “But are you sure? It’s just… it’s so much.”

He knew he had to choose his words carefully. Saying “It’s no big deal” might diminish the value of all the hard work Loren put into every dollar she earned.

“How about you try everything on—if it fits the way it’s supposed to, if it’s anything like I’ve pictured… that’s all the thanks I could want.”

Loren tilted her head to the side, flashing him a wide grin full of gratitude. As she lifted the dress from the box, her eyes sparkled with anticipation. She draped it gently beside the slingbacks—the stilettos would be for later.

In front of the bathroom mirror, Loren slipped the gown over her head, marveling at the feel of the smooth, luxurious fabric against her skin. She watched as the satin hem drifted to the floor, and she slowly ran her hands along the gown’s elegant sheen. When she looked up, she was taken aback by her reflection—the shade of yellow perfectly highlighted her bronzed skin, and the dress hugged her curves flawlessly. She suddenly understood why Odette had taken her measurements so mysteriously in the fitting room; it hadn’t even crossed her mind to question it. If only Odette could see her now.

Loren swept her hair up into a clip, slid on the neutral-colored shoes, then paused just as she reached for the door. Closing it quietly, she slipped out of the dress, hanging it gently on the back of the bathroom door. She returned to the bedroom in only her undergarments and heels, crawling wordlessly on top of William, who was still relaxing on the bed.

“Did it—did it turn invisible when you tried it on? I don’t see it,” he teased, grinning.

“I wanted to be completely ready before you see it on me… but it is—by far—the most beautiful dress I have ever seen in my life,” she whispered before kissing him, slow and deep.

William moaned into her mouth, running his hands from her ass up to her sides. One hand circled the nape of her neck under her long hair as he kissed her fervently down her neck. It was one of the may ways that William could render Loren completely defenseless as she yearned for him to fuck her once more before getting ready for their evening.

But this time, William had the one thread of self-control they needed to stop the kissing and dry-humping and get a move on and get ready for their evening amongst the City of Lights.

William found himself thoroughly entertained as he watched Loren pad back and forth between the bedroom and bathroom, following her going-out routine. She moved so elegantly, almost as if she were floating instead of walking. He loved how naturally they navigated around each other without needing to fill the space with words. Sometimes, he’d play music as they dressed, and it amazed him how she seemed to know the lyrics to just about every song.

He slid into his suit jacket and was adjusting his shirt collar when Loren stepped out from the bedroom in the dress. She had taken his breath away many times before, but this time, William was left completely speechless.

Satin could be an unforgiving material, but on Loren, it highlighted every sumptuous curve. William couldn’t help but to lean back a little to get a good look at her ass in the dress - as beautiful as she looked from the front, the back of that dress made his mind wander.

Watching his reflection in the mirror, Loren caught his rather indiscreet gaze as she slid the back onto her earring. So, she mimicked him, leaning back and taking a nice long look at William’s ass in return.

Sauntering up to him, she purred “Yours is better - it’s professionally sculpted - a total work of art…fit for the Louvre,” sliding her hands around his waist and then resting them on his ass.

William reciprocated, his palms and fingers lightly squeezing the curve of her hips. “You’re gonna have me tongue-tied all night if you keep this up… I can’t even find the right words for how beautiful you look.”

Loren kissed him slowly, feeling the heat building between her legs—a familiar pull that made her want to skip their plans and keep William with her, wrapped up in each other, all night.

What a hardship, William thought, smirking. Going out or staying in really didn’t matter in the long run; with Loren, everything felt brighter, more fun, as though even the simplest moments held a new light. He knew there were still things he had yet to learn about her, and he was hopeful that, with time and gentle coaxing, she would reveal her true vulnerabilities to him, just as he would to her.

As they exited the suite, William kept a few paces behind, admiring her as she strolled down the corridor. The layers of her hair swished gently down her back, her dress hugging her curves with every step. Loren’s unassuming yet wildly sexy movements stirred something deep within him, bringing back memories of gathering up her hair as he moved against her. A knowing smile crept across his face.

What a hardship indeed.

—

As William and Loren meandered along avenue George, walking off their delectable dinner, he suddenly stopped in front of a beautiful, eclectic theater. Loren nearly screamed, jumped, and fainted all at once when her eyes landed on the gleaming gold letters that spelled “Crazy Horse Paris.”

She had never breathed a word to William—or anyone close by—about her dream of seeing one of the most iconic cabaret shows in Paris, and now here she was, standing in front of her own mecca. Overwhelmed with emotion, Loren turned to William, almost disbelieving how this Parisian fairytale he’d created for her kept getting better.

Without warning, she leapt into his arms, hugging him tightly. He was caught a bit off guard, as it had actually been his sister Jackie’s spontaneous idea to bring Loren here. But hearing Loren explain that Crazy Horse was a top-three item on her bucket list made him feel even more thrilled about the surprise, even if he didn’t know much about it himself.

Their first encounter inside was with two men dressed as Canadian Mounties at the entrance, making Loren stifle a squeal as they stepped through the gold-lined doors.

Inside, murals of women in ‘70s-style artwork adorned the walls—it was like stepping into a time machine, with red carpet underfoot, chrome pillars, and floor-to-ceiling mirrors all around. As they descended the stairs to the main lounge, Loren and William took in the sight of the blue-breasted wall lining the staircase and provocative photos displayed throughout. William was quickly realizing—between the naked statues and sketches of scantily clad women on the menu—that this was going to be far from a typical night out.

They found their cozy booth amid a sea of other red booths, each with its own cocktail table. Several tables featured a lit centerpiece that illuminated the clear ice bucket perched atop it, complete with a chilled bottle of champagne. William had been to countless places in his life, but he couldn’t recall ever setting foot in one quite like this. The ambiance had a sultry, seductive undertone, and with Loren by his side, looking absolutely stunning, he felt certain this would be a night to remember.

The dress code suggested elegant attire, and while most guests opted for casual, a few—like William and Loren—had embraced their chic side. Servers and staff made a point of complimenting those dressed in shimmering sequins and tailored suits. To Loren, an avid people-watcher, this was as captivating as a trendy Paris fashion show.

A server approached to uncork the vintage champagne, quickly falling into an animated conversation with them. She poured each of them a glass and complimented how ravishing they looked, even asking if they were fashion models. Before William could answer, Loren pointed to him and said, “Ah, oui—this one is a model and so much more.” The two women exchanged a knowing glance and flashed William a mischievous smile. After a few more cheeky remarks—not entirely at his expense—the server left, and William jokingly told Loren she’d be going over his knee when they were alone again.

“Vraiment? Really… well, good. Plan’s working then,” Loren replied with a wink.

William leaned closer, sliding his arm around her waist. She felt the warmth of his hand on her hip as she nestled against him. “We should toast something,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses to her shoulder.

Loren’s cheeks flushed pink. “There are so many things I can think of,” she said, almost bashfully. “How about… l’amour fou…”

He smiled, clinking his glass with hers, and repeated the words softly against her cheek.

As they started their second glass of champagne, the house lights dimmed, and the Master of Ceremonies, the infamous George Bangable, appeared.

To Loren, George was as iconic as the establishment itself. His smooth voice was reminiscent of the famous crooners, complete with his dark, slicked back hair and razor thin moustache; he oozed Parisian style. He quickly spotted Loren and William and approached them as he playfully swayed his hips singing the Cha-Cha. William smiled but secretly hoped George wouldn’t pay him any attention, while Loren was beaming as she fixated on the charismatic emcee, her hand resting on William's thigh as she subtly swayed to the music. Before George moved on to work the rest of the room, he mouthed the words “magnifique” and “oh la la” while pointing at their attire.

William glanced at Loren as George glided up the steps, leaning in with a smile. “So, what do you think so far?” he asked.

“I can’t even describe how incredible this is - absolutely unforgettable. Probably the best night of my life.” Loren’s voice was think with emotion, and she hoped it was subtle enough that William would not pick up on it. She swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat. She placed her hand over his which rested warmly on her hip. “Saying thank-you doesn’t even begin to cover it, even if I said it a million times.”

William could feel every ounce of appreciation within her words, her tone. He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her shoulder, his hand resting on the curve of her hip. “I’m just glad I get to do this for you,” he said softly.

Loren looked at him, her face glowing under the red lights. “Don’t think that I won’t use every idle second my brain has to try and think of a few special ways to say it. And - I don’t want you to worry either,” she smiled. “This will be fun for you, too. You just don’t know it yet.”

William raised an eyebrow, casting a skeptical glance at the stage. With Mr. Bangable crooning away, he doubted the night was really his kind of thing.

Upon the third glass of champagne and with the stage lights dimmed, William found out just how wrong he was.

Dressed in nothing more than tall, bearskin hats and military-style boots, the line of exquisite dancers began one of their signature acts - a cheeky and explicit military-themed routine. With their shoulders back, and eyes forward, the performers moved completely in sync until there was a hint of a sly smile at an audience member or an extra little kick of a heel that added to some playfulness within the performance.

Loren glanced over at William and caught him watching, mouth slightly agape. She giggled, giving his thigh a gentle squeeze. “I told you so.”

William shook his head, grinning. “Somehow, I think you’d fit right in up there,” he said, his gaze lingering on her face.

Loren shook her head as a bashful smile spread across her lips as William’s words simply thrilled her.

It was no surprise that once William and Loren exited the theatre once the performance was over, they wasted no time with finding a taxi to take them back to the hotel. The glamourous burlesque-style performance was artistic and seductive and seemingly was an effective, albeit unexpected aphrodisiac for William. With long toned legs, graceful figures and perky breasts on full display for most of the night, it made William all the more anxious to get Loren back to the suite and worship every inch of her beauty.

—

Loren stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in the plush hotel robe with a black lace camisole and pantie set on underneath. She almost floated over to the bed, her hair swept up with loose strands that framed her face. William lay stretched on the bed, a fresh spread of strawberries and chocolate was set at the foot of the mattress on a silver platter. Another bottle of champagne chilled in a ice-bucket on a table close by.

Loren wasn’t exactly drunk, but she wasn’t entirely sober either as her gaze fell on the champagne flutes.

William, meanwhile, wasn’t exactly drunk, but he certainly wasn’t sober as his eyes settled on Loren.

“If I have any more champagne, you might get an embarrassingly sloppy personal burlesque show,” she teased, opening her robe slightly. She stood at attention, brought her shoulders back, raised herself onto the balls of her feet and struck a similar pose to the dancers at Crazy Horse.

William let out a chuckle—not from humor, but from pure disbelief. She was so elegant, so disarming, that the laugh left him involuntarily because well, what else could he do.

Loren blushed and giggled, covering her face—mostly from still being tipsy enough to think she could pass as a cabaret girl in front of William. She slinked onto the bed as he reached for the platter and slid it between them. Choosing the most perfect-looking strawberry, he dangled it mischievously just above Loren's lips. She played along, gently wrapping her hand around his to prevent him from teasingly pulling his hand away. Loren couldn’t resist teasing William in return as she ran her tongue along the tip of the berry before taking a bite. William bit his lip from the desire she ignited in him, and soon his mouth was on hers, his tongue tasting the sweet traces of strawberries on hers.

Before they were swept away in the moment, William told Loren to “hold that thought”, moving off the bed and over to the champagne. With a loud pop, William slid the cork out and filled two glasses to bring back to bed.

Loren’s heart felt like it could explode or soar, or a combination of both as William handed her a glass and slid in next to her. She found him so gorgeous that it was unfair to the rest of humanity. His personality, his humor—his introspective moments and his own curious nature. Add thoughtful and kind, as this one Parisian evening that he curated for her was nothing short of perfect.

However, a pang of unease settled in her stomach. Loren's gratitude and appreciation for William were deep and far beyond what could be expressed with words. But mostly, it was her profound desire to reciprocate his gestures and generosity, knowing that possibility was totally out of reach for her.

With his face deliciously close to hers, William spoke softly. “I’m not good at thinking of toasts - I’m not even sure if you’re supposed to make one every time - like, is it bad luck not to?”

Loren knew William wasn’t one to follow every tradition or superstition, but she was so endeared by him wondering about the etiquette of toasting.

She smiled into his stunning eyes, her expression shifting from attraction to deep appreciation. “I’m not honestly sure if there’s any rules, but I do have something to toast to.” Loren’s eyes lowered as she fixated on the rising bubbles that surfaced in the delicate champagne flute she was holding. She could feel her throat thicken with emotion once again, and bit her lip before speaking. “I’m toasting to you. This… everything you’ve done… it’s been the best night of my life. Truly. I… I don’t even know how I could ever—” She hesitated as she feels her eye prick with tears. “How I could ever pay you back.”

She caught herself, realizing her words did not come out as she intended. “I mean, not ‘pay you back’ exactly. I just—sometimes I wish I could… do for you, what you’ve done for me.”

William’s brows furrowed slightly. “But don’t you think you deserve this? I wanted to do this for you—not just because of… well, everything you did before.” He paused, searching for the right words. “You dropped everything to help me, you came to see me in Sweden… you had every right to tell me to fuck off and you did the opposite. You didn’t have to do any of it, but you did.” William listened to his own words and still could not fathom how Loren gave so freely.

Loren could feel an ache beginning in her chest, but she managed to keep her emotions at bay. “I don’t want it to come off like I feel I’m unworthy—that’s not it at all,” Loren spoke softly, continuing to choose her words carefully. “It’s more that… when someone does something for me, especially something selfless or generous, I feel this deep need to return it, to show them how much I appreciate it.” Her voice wavered just slightly, but she kept her gaze steady, determined to convey what she felt without breaking down.

William simply listened, but he could feel how hard this was for her to convey.

But when she spoke of her parents, the tears welled up in her eyes as she continued to avert William’s gaze.

“I think part of that comes from the humiliation of having to watch my parents step in when I was in trouble once my ex left. They had to take over the loan I co-signed so he could get the truck he wanted. They weren’t angry with me - they just reminded me to have gratitude that they had the means to help.” Loren tried to discreetly wipe away the tears that had fallen.

William listened in silence, his heart twisted as she continued. “And then, later on, I was sitting across from this woman at the bank who could tell something was off with him from the moment she first saw him. When I was at risk of missing a mortgage payment, she extended my overdraft just to help me get by. She did that out of pure kindness.”

She paused, still looking downward while gathering her thoughts. “I don’t forget things like that. Those kinds of gestures stick with me. And I want to be able to do the same for the people who’ve helped me, to do things for them in a way that shows how much I value what they did. It’s… weird maybe - it’s like I carry around this balance sheet, always thinking about nice things I can do for them, ways to “repay” them even if they never expected anything in return.”

Embarrassed that she let her emotions get the better of her, Loren suddenly shifted using the back of her free hand to wipe the streak of tears from around her nose. “Great way to end a perfect day,” she sniffed, letting out an awkward chuckle as she tried to laugh it off.

William motioned for her to hand him her champagne, and he set both glasses down on his nightstand. He turned back towards her and soon was kissing her, soft, deep and passionately. For William, this actually felt like a breakthrough with Loren. She always seemed so poised and in control, but these moments when she let her guard down, revealing her vulnerabilities—these were the memories that stayed with him the most. Secretly, he often wondered if he could ever live up to her level of goodness in how she conducted herself. But the fact that she trusted him to share more about what goes on in her mind, meant more to him than anything tangible.

The kisses they shared only deepened, full of tenderness and a new level of connection and understanding. Their movements were slow and deliberate, communicating solely through touch and the intensity of their fixed gazes.

Words were certainly unnecessary. The warmth of every touch and caress conveyed their need for one another. They studied each other’s expressions, and through their eyes, they further connected in moments of both unadulterated bliss and playful smiles.

It was well past midnight, but time was totally irrelevant as William took the lead, with solitary goal of pleasuring Loren endlessly.

As strikingly beautiful as she looked in the lacy set she wore to bed, William reveled equally in her beauty as he gingerly slid off her panties and unclasped her bra. Loren’s eyes lit up when William’s cock was in her line of sight as he momentarily straddled her torso. But his position was short lived as he grabbed a strawberry from the nearby platter, and bit the end off while smirking at Loren. With the fleshy part of the berry exposed between his teeth, he repositioned himself and hovered above her body. He slid the berry starting from her sternum towards the hardened peak of her nipple. Between the cool and juicy softness of the mashed strawberry and his tongue, he licked and sucked one nipple as his palm firmly caressed the other. The remnants of strawberry juice saturated William’s moustache as he lapped at her other nipple. William took his time, and with every connection between his tongue and mouth to Loren’s nipple, the more pressure she felt between her legs. Her hands roamed his muscular back and shoulders and she began to pull her body more tightly into hers. Her hands then planted firmly on his ass cheeks and she slowly grinded her pussy against his hardening member. He could feel her nails against his skin, not scratching but firmly tracing up and down his flank. Like the rest of her, the way she touched him was electrifying.

Her nipples had become so sensitive that she nearly climaxed when he stroked his flattened tongue against each peak, moaning and writhing against his hips. With every sound and motion, the two edged each other.

Soon, everything slowed as they gazed at each other with complete admiration. Soft words of affection floated between them, each laced with a hint of playful teasing as they lay wrapped in each other’s arms, cherishing the closeness.

It wasn’t long before William decided to move onto the next phase of worshiping her pussy with his mouth. William first opened her legs wide with his hands before Loren took over, elegantly holding her legs open for him. She freed one hand and ran her fingers through his thick mane of hair while he repeatedly flicked his tongue around her clit, coaxing a long moan from her mouth. She pressed her head back into the pillow. The same hand that played with his hair now grazed his hand that had wrapped around her thigh. What started off as slow and seductive licks between her folds was now a barrage of the most gratifying oral maneuvers a woman could hope for. Loren let go of her one thigh and gripped the edge of the mattress as her legs muscles began to quiver. Just as he was about to send her into orbit with his mouth, William slowed right down to a gentle lick and kiss of her clit.

He looked up to see her covering her mouth with one hand, with her other hand still gripping the mattress.

William kissed up her torso, stopping at her breasts and then up along her neck. The tickling hairs from his moustache almost made her squeal, but she managed to keep the noise she made to a low and sultry moan.

Her deep brown eyes connected with his ocean blue gaze, playfully grinning at each other as a new layer of sexual tension ignited between them.

Loren pressed into William once more, biting her lip from the sheer arousal that she felt with him between her legs. William was barely managing to stay in control of his own impulses as he was fully invested in making Loren as horny as he possibly could before succumbing to his own desire to slide his cock deep inside of her.

Loren gently stroked William’s face, wiping the lingering mix of flavours from his upper lip onto her thumb. He caught her hand, kissing down her wrist and back up again before kissing along her jawline.

The two champagne flutes which still remained full on William’s nightstand caught his eye. “You wanna take a break and polish these off?” he asked, nodding towards the glasses.

Loren nodded with a grin as William braced himself on his knees, still positioned between Loren’s legs. She propped herself up as he handed her the flute.

He clinked her glass and they took a long sip. William leaned in and kissed her once more before they emptied the glasses and setting them back in place on the nightstand.

He wasted no time in laying Loren onto her back once more, his eyes hungry and full of desire.

For William, it felt as though every moment they’d spent together in Paris was a form of foreplay. Time with Loren was slipping away far too quickly for his liking—he wanted to slow everything down, to savor every movement, every touch exchanged between them.

Between her legs, William's broad frame moved slowly, rubbing his hardening cock against her. Each kiss was long and full of heated passion as their connection intensified. With every slow grind of their hips, the ache of desire fueled their desperation for one another.

With the tip of his cock covered in Loren's wetness, he slid into her tightness. She whispered "Fuck" with a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her hands traveled under William's underarms, down his back, and rested on his ass cheeks as he pressed deep into her. Loren couldn't resist moving her hips beneath the weight of William's body, her need to feel him even deeper driving each hip motion. He began to subtly pump his cock, the slight curve of his shaft connecting his tip to her g-spot. Loren's grip became more firm on his round ass cheeks as she spread herself wider for him. William shifted, his muscular figure forcing Loren's legs to spread wider as he continued to pump firmly and slowly into her. His hands hooked behind her knees, opening Loren further as she moaned desperately for his cock.

While Loren and William often enjoyed a more vigorous and strenuous pace, that evening, the sex was almost tantric. Slow and sensual movements heightened their connection. William penetrated her deeply while their edged each other, elevating their bodily sensations as thought they were experiencing a never-ending orgasm.

William was in awe as he looked down at Loren’s beautiful face. Her eyes were closed, but he could still read every pleasure-filled expression. He watched her mouth fall open one moment, then curve into a soft smile as a gasp escaped from a powerful wave of ecstasy. The way she whisper-moaned his name, the way her arms wrapped around him, pulling him close - Loren affected him in all the best ways he could imagine.

William began buck into Loren more firmly. He braced himself between her legs, his knees sinking into the mattress as his hands slid along her legs and clasped around her slender ankles. He spread her legs wide at first as he drove harder into her. Loren’s soft and low moans sounded like an erotic siren as she stroked her clit. William threw back his head while Loren stroked his shaft we her wetness as he fucked her. He knew he was going to cum soon, but wanted to make Loren’s climax the priority. He reposition himself once again, sliding the backs of her legs against his chest. His frame now hovered over top of her body, his thick thighs spread apart as hips moved fast and firmly, his cock deeply rocking inside of her. Her one leg fell to the side as the other remained hooked over his shoulder as he relentlessly fucked her deep until her orgasm hit her hard, her legs jerking and shaking in the process. Her hands couldn’t figure out whether to hold onto William or grip the sheets as her neck arched back, pressing her head into the mattress. Her long cry of “Fuuuuck” cut through the sounds of heavy breathing as her body felt the urge to twist and contort itself. William held her body in place as he reached the feverish pitch of his own climax, spilling deep into her as his own body jolted with pleasure.

Loren lay motionless beneath William, as she had many times before, lost in a total state of euphoria. He knew this about her—and sometimes teased her for it—knowing she could only smile or let out a soft giggle, utterly incapable of forming a sentence for several minutes. The after-glow moments were among William’s favourite times with Loren. He kissed and stroked her skin, and as he watched her, he couldn’t help but be once again captivated by her. Maybe it was an extra shot to the male ego, but he’d never seen another woman respond to him the way Loren did.

William gently pulled Loren against his chest, knowing she'd want to use the washroom before drifting off to sleep. He spoke softly in her ear, reminding her of her post-sex routine. "Loren, don't fall asleep just yet... Remember the washroom? You don't want to risk an infection." William was aware of how unsexy it sounded, but he had another potential surprise for Loren in mind. A bladder infection—which could have been easily avoided—wouldn't align with his plan.

After Loren returned to bed, she nestled into her favourite spot against William’s chest.

His nails soothingly grazed her shoulder as she completely melted into his body. “Loren? You still awake?”

Loren kissed his chest and nodded her head.

“How would you feel if we didn’t go back to Stockholm for a couple more days?”

She smiled as she nuzzled the coarse hair that covered his pectorals. “You’d like to stay in Paris longer?”

William kissed the top of her head. “Mmmm….well, not Paris…but south of France still.”

Loren shifted so she could look up at William’s profile. All she could do was grin with anticipation.

William chuckled. “Pack your bags, baby….we’re heading to Monaco -we'll be there tonight.”

[crowleyanthonys]

"Are you a bookseller too?" "Not even at gunpoint."

[dramashii]

Seung Hyo & Seok Ryu's relationship (with texts)

LOVE NEXT DOOR (2024)

[rjshope]

Happy birthday, @kimtaegis✨

[cr.0613data, doolsetbangtan]

[day-dr3aming]

Rayven: now, goodnight

Skully: thank you, my dear~

*Before Rayven could take a step, Skully gently grabbed their hand*

Skully: be careful of my heart, won't you? You see... You're taking it home with you tonight

*Skully gives a sweet kiss in their hand*

Skully: please... Don't break it...

*Skully then lets go of their hand. Rayven gives a slight smile*

Rayven: goodnight, your grace. Goodbye... Until tomorrow

Divider by: cafekitsune

[wretcheddoll]

Another thing I hate about what the show did to Marius and Armand's relationship is how Marius painting Armand is now being framed.

What was an act of love and devotion in the books and also a way for Marius to express his feelings about Amadeo and their relationship, is now turned into something perverse and objectifying. (And Amadeo gets passed around to other artists who use him sexually, it's gross and I hate it.)

"Centuries ago in a palazzo in Venice, he had tried to capture in imperishable pigment the quality of this love. What had been its lesson? That in all the world no two souls contain the same secret, the same gift of devotion or abandon; that in a common child, a wounded child, he had found a blending of sadness and simple grace that would forever break his heart? This one had understood him! This one had loved him as no other ever had." -TQOTD

It's so romantic in the books I hate how the show reframes it as just another horrible thing Marius did to objectify his sex slave in the show. Marius loved Amadeo so much in the books, he knew his bruised and steely heart, his flaws and rough edges, and he still loved him... He was NOT just keeping Amadeo around as a pretty slave to objectify and fuck.

It just upsets me :/

[starkid-everyday]

OH please... You don't gotta do it! Don't ruin my anniversary! I'm a good guy! I'm a family man!! Don't make me go back... To the bakery! Ay dios mio!!! Don't do it!!!!! I'm begging you.... Have... Mercy?

[sentientcave]

And They Were Roommates

Part 2!

Sooner than I thought I'd get it done, but I ended up with more time today than I thought. It's moving day! This one goes out to the two people who read this so far (ilu), and also the dream of affordable rent and friendly, walkable neighbourhoods.

Part 1 Here

Fem!SoapxFemReader

~2.6k

Alcohol mention, SFW

MDNI - 18+ Blog even if this is you know, pretty tame at the moment

Your apartment is on the third floor of a walk-up, with a little balcony off the living room, and a decently sized kitchen. The rooms aren’t too small either, and your landlord has never cared about you putting holes in the walls or painting, only that you’re quiet and you have not once been late paying the rent. She lives on the first floor, and you have a sort of pleasant, neighbourly relationship with her. It’s easy enough to like a landlord that doesn’t raise your rent arbitrarily or drag their feet on repairs, but Leslie’s also a handsome, handy butch, and her wife, Amelia, is a wispy artist, and you’ve always been on the cusp of wanting to be properly friendly. You let her know before you head off to work that you have a new roommate moving in today, and that there would be a bit of noise in the afternoon.

“Oh, you found someone? Good. You want them on the lease?” she asks.

“I don’t think she wants to be. She’s just giving me cash so I can pay it. Is that alright?”

Leslie nods. “Sure is, honey. Thanks for letting me know. Oh, and I want to do a check on the radiators before the cold weather hits— Shouldn’t need into your apartment, but the pipes’ll be clanging something awful. It’s supposed to be cold and rainy Monday, so I’ll turn on the heat, and you can text me if your rads don’t warm up.”

“Alright. Thanks Leslie.”

She laughed. “You don’t have to thank me. You’re just saving me paperwork and a trip up the stairs. I’ll be standing by this afternoon if you need the door taken off the hinges to get any furniture through.”

You head off to work, humming to yourself. There’s time to stop for a take out coffee too, something you’d been denying yourself for the last few weeks to conserve money, and the barista gives you an extra shot of espresso, just because she missed seeing you.

God, you would have hated moving away. This neighbourhood has been good to you, and starting over somewhere else would have been hard. You recognize most of the faces around you, and often get a smile or a nod when you pass by, or even a good morning from a few. It feels like being part of a community. You unlock the door to the shop, and you don’t bother locking it behind you while you quickly get things set up.

The bell above the door jingles just as you’re about to go and flip the sign. “You know, you should really keep that locked when you’re not open,” John says. He’s an irregular regular, the sort of customer you see every few days for a couple weeks and then not at all for months at a time. You like him— He’s always polite, and he always takes your recommendations seriously, and comes back to tell you what he thinks. He’s older, but in a non-distinct way where he could be anywhere from 30 to 45. The muttonchops kind of make it hard to tell.

“A customer coming in a minute or two ahead of time is not terribly concerning to me, John. And the shop is open, I just haven’t flipped the sign yet.” You do so, and dust your hands together, like you’ve just accomplished some great feat.

“What if I wasn’t a customer?”

“What, like a robber? I’d give them the money from the till and then ring up the cops so they can stand around and be useless a while.”

His stern expression cracks into a smile, the crows feet around his eyes deepening. “Alright, fair enough.”

“You’re here early. Usually don’t see you until lunch hour. Got a busy day ahead?” You absently straighten a pile of books on the table by the door before you return to your perch behind the counter to sip your coffee.

“Yeah. Helping one of my sergeants move this afternoon. Someplace in the neighbourhood, but you’ll be closed long before we finish.”

You hadn’t realized he was military, but now it seems obvious. He’s got that straight-backed, keen-eyed look to him that could belong to few other professions. “Oh, are you Jamie’s captain?” you ask, connecting the dots. It's too close to be a coincidence.

He raises his eyebrows. “You’re her new flatmate?”

“Yeah! Ha, I guess you’ll get to see how I live. Always weird when a customer crosses the threshold of familiarity.”

“Didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

“We don’t— Not yet, anyway. I’ve had an ad out for over a month, she’s the first person who’s responded that I think I could actually live with. You would not believe the number of guys who responded thinking that a picture of their dick counted as a reference.”

“Did Jamie give you references?”

“Yes, her old landlord, her LT and her Captain— Guess that’s you. But I met Ghost last night, and I didn’t really think I needed to call the other numbers after meeting Jamie.” You shrug. “Although looking back on it, I guess getting a vibe check from a giant in a balaclava is maybe not the most legitimate reference I could have received.”

“You ever think you might be too trusting?” John asked, leaning against the counter. He didn’t have a tendency to use his size to intimidate, but he was looming over you now, giving you a stern glare that you’re sure his newer recruits have nightmares about. You’re not intimidated though. You’re too familiar with him by now to be worried. He’s just got this protective, almost fatherly streak to him, and a bit of paranoia that makes more sense now that you know it’s coming from his military background.

“Have you ever thought that you might not be trusting enough?” you ask sweetly. “Not to sound trite, but I’ve found that when you approach things with an open mind and heart, things work out. But maybe I’ve just been lucky.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t been eaten alive,” John grumbles, moving away from the counter, shaking his head.

You just shake your head too, picking up your phone so you can text Jamie.

I met your captain!! Well I already knew him but I didn’t know he was your captain

The response comes in almost instantly

UR BOOKSTORE GRIL<

GIRL<

NO FOCKIN WAY<

???

caps got a crush on ye. dirty old man >:( <

Dinny wry kitty ill fight im 4 u<

You hear John’s phone ding. He glances at the screen and laughs, and then looks over at you. “Jamie just told me to square up.”

“Wouldn’t be fair. I bet she fights dirty,” you tell him. “Is that why you call her Soap?”

He laughs again, his broad shoulders shaking. “No, but it might as well be.”

John buys a couple of old westerns and heads out soon after, leaving you to putter around the shop. You get a few customers through, though not many. Fridays are never very busy. Saturday and Sunday are always the busiest days of the week, and the days that the little book shop is open the longest. From what you've gathered, Bruce, the owner, makes most of the money to keep the place going by renting out studio space upstairs. The second floor is a wide open room, and the third floor a maze of little studios. There's a bulletin board behind your counter with all the workshops and events listed. Bruce lives at the other end of the first floor, and you rarely see him. The bookstore was something for his wife, who had gotten bored and moved on to pottery, and then glass blowing, and was currently occupying a studio upstairs and writing a novel. Sometimes she asked you to read chapters of it, and you had to come up with polite ways to tell her that she needed to put a lot more work in that wouldn’t get your ass fired.

Jamie texts you updates on the move, mostly complaints about how she didn’t think she’d need so many boxes, she didn’t think she had that much stuff, as well as a picture of her reclining on a couch while Gaz and Ghost lift it into the air, with the caption RIDES HERE that you receive just as you’re locking up the store.

They gonna carry you the whole way here?

no :( LT said im 2 heavy <

rude fucker <

You should reconsider your no killing in your spare time policy Just this once

ur rite. <

only after ahm dun mvoing tho<

hes useful 2 me yet<

You giggle and stow your phone back in your pocket, picking up your pace so you'd have time to do a quick, last minute clean of the apartment and shut Red Herring in your room so he doesn’t make a run for freedom while the doors are open.

He never listens when you tell him he doesn’t have what it takes to make it out there alone.

You happen to glance out the window when a pickup truck pulls up in front of the building. John and Gaz climb out. It’s a smaller model, and the couch from the picture is strapped sideways across the short-box bed with a pile of boxes stacked neatly underneath. A blue sports car pulls up behind it, and Ghost unfolds himself from the passenger side while Jamie throws her door open and hops out of the driver’s side. You head downstairs to meet them at the front door.

As soon as she sees you, Soap runs over and throws her arms around your waist, picking you up bodily and swinging you around, like she’s a soldier returning from the war and you the long suffering wife awaiting her return back home. You shriek with laughter and hold on tight, worried that she’ll drop you. Not that it’s all that far from the ground. Maybe it’s just kind of nice to be manhandled by a big strong woman.

“Missed ye,” she says in your ear.

“Jamie, we just saw each other yesterday,” you remind her, still laughing. “We just met yesterday.”

“Pff. No matter.” She gives you one more spin before setting you down. “Awlright, let’s put these big strong lads to work, aye? If ye ask nice Gaz’ll prob’ly take off his shirt.”

“I think he should keep it on, actually,” you say dryly.

“Yer right, kitty, don’t want to get distracted while there’s a job to be done. I’ll take my shirt off for ye later, since yer insistin'.” She loops an arm over your shoulders and presses a quick peck to the side of your head before letting go and dashing back over to the vehicles, giving you no chance to say that you most certainly had not been insisting.

No one lets you help, beyond opening doors and helping them navigate corners, but you suspect that you really only would have slowed up the process. They make carrying the couch up the stairs look easy, and the whole job is done in under an hour, despite the three flights of stairs. Soap moves her car to the lot, taking the space Leslie indicates, and you walk up together, Leslie telling her the laundry hours and letting her know that she was welcome to paint her room any colour she liked.

“Hey, John,” Leslie says peering in the open door with a grin. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

John turns a curious shade of pink. “Ah, well. Things have been busy. No time for workshops.”

“Well, you’re welcome back any time. Bring your friends, even.” She claps Soap on the shoulder as she turns to head back downstairs. It strikes you that she only came up to say hello to John, who had done his best to avoid her the whole time they’d been moving boxes. “Nice to meet you, Jamie. You’d best be good for our girl.”

“Ahm always good,” Soap protests. “Ask anyone.”

Leslie glances over at Gaz, Ghost and Price, who shake their heads in unison.

“Awlright, ask anyone except these bastards. They dinnae appreciate me. Even when I was going to order them takeaway and git ‘em a few pints.” She pouts, leaning against the doorway dramatically clutching her chest. “Ahm misunderstood in my own time.”

Leslie chuckles. “Well, she’s a handful. Good luck with that one, honey,” she tells you as she trots back downstairs.

You shuffle Soap into the apartment and close the door so you can release Red Herring from the confines of your bedroom, where he’s been yowling his displeasure for the past hour. She flops over the back of the couch, landing upside down with a sigh, and pulls out her phone, head tipped over the edge of the seat. “What do ye lads want? A Chinese? Or somethin’ else?”

“We also don’t have to stick around.” Gaz looks around at the others. John is looking at your bookshelf with interest, and Ghost is crouched in the hallway, greeting Red Herring. Gaz gives you a sheepish smile. “Or, uh. Maybe we do.”

Soap hauls herself into a more upright position, both hands still holding her phone. Her core strength must be unreal. You briefly wonder if she has actual, honest-to-god abs. “You want ‘em gone, kitty? Hens only?”

It strikes you that whatever this group has going on, it’s more than a little codependent. Better to get used to them now. “It’s alright. I’ll hang out in my room if I run out of social battery. Used to do that when Fern’s friends got to be too much.”

Soap tosses her phone down and flips her legs over the side of the couch and then to the floor. “Oh no, kitty. Dinna start off bein’ accomodatin’ when ye’d rather not be. I can tell ‘em to fuck off. Weal. I can tell Gaz and the captain to fuck off. I have ta drive LT home. No cabbie in his right mind will take the poor fella.”

“Not even the one’s not in their right minds,” Ghost says mournfully. Somehow, he’s coaxed Red up onto his shoulder, and is wearing the fat orange cat like a fur stole. You can hear the cat purring from several feet away. “For some reason, I make people nervous.”

“Couldn’t be the eye black and the fuckin’ skull motif, LT,” Soap says.

“Couldn’t be the size of you either,” Gaz adds.

“Sweetest pup I know,” John agrees. “People just don’t trust these days. Sign of society collapsin’.” He winks at you.

“What’s the word, kitty?” Soap drapes herself over your shoulders and nuzzles against your hair. Her nose runs along the curve of your neck, and it doesn’t seem to bother her even a little that the other three are watching with fascination. They're trying to be subtle about it, and failing miserably. John has a book in his hands, holding it upside down. Gaz is pretending to study a picture on the wall. Ghost is… Well, Ghost isn’t pretending to be subtle. “Want ‘em to go?” Her voice sounds a little breathy against your ear, and you’re not at all sure what to do with the electricity that shoots through your whole body. “Have us some girl time?”

“They did just help you move,” you say slowly. It’s taking a moment for you to collect your thoughts enough to speak. “Would be rude to send them away without a meal, right? Plus Red just got settled into his new nap spot.” You gesture at Ghost, who’s carefully walking over to the chair to sit, holding his shoulders very still so as not to disturb the cat, his eyes still turned your way.

You're not totally sure what Soap thinks is girl time, but you think it might be several shades more intimate than you're used to.

“Aw, yer too good ta my lads, kitty.” Soap kisses the spot right in front of your ear and lets you go. Without her solid body holding you up, you briefly consider melting into a puddle all over the floor, but manage, somehow, through sheer force of will, to keep your knees from buckling.

Leslie was right. You definitely have your hands full.

[frauleiiin]

Oh little they know..

[romanticatheartt]

If I had the ability to led on a grown ass man (without even doing much) for 5 centuries I'd be proud as fuck, lemme tell ya...

Mor probably...

[tired-old-men]

(Morgan once again was chatting with some of the Guardians, no shenanigans planned, just the tall Guardian girlie looking for some chatter... but another echidna appeared. A short white furred female) "Helloooooooo~ Theres my beloved~" Morgan sighed and rolled her eyes, "Hello, Arcana. Just having a chat..." "In an alternate dimension? Without me? I'm hurt..." The woman's eyes wondered to the few echidna's she saw standing around... a smirk then appeared on her face, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. Morgan glared, "Arcana. Don't. Leave them alone". "TO BEAST!!", she suddenly raised her voice and casted a spell, it randomly hitting at least one of the random Guardians stood around. "ARCANA!!" "Oh relax it'll wear off... in a few days", she giggled.

Spectre was idly hanging about in the background, the presence of these new faces were becoming more of a norm these past few weeks with their continuous surprise visits. Initially he didn’t think anything about Morgan’s partner coming to visit, until he felt something off about her, like she was planning to do something nefarious.

His suspicions would shortly be proven right by her actions. By the time her voice was raised he had already moved swiftly from his spot, phasing in thin air appearing in front of her suddenly, taking the brunt of whatever spell she’d casted. 

He reeled back, oddly enough he didn’t feel any pain or anything abnormal, but regardless of what it was it was instinct to keep his family safe. After the initial shock, Morgan and Arcana received a proper old man scolding. Spectre addressed them sternly about Arcana’s sudden actions, advising her to not repeat that behavior, and finally stating he wouldn’t take threats to his family lightheartedly. 

He left it at that before excusing himself to his quarters, behind him he could hear his son giving the pair a piece of his mind. With a pointed tone, his message of their recklessness lacked a lot of the grace his father’s had, but it was certainly heard.

Spectre had retreated back into his room, preforming some cautionary tests to audit his health after whatever magic had invaded his body. Besides an elevated heart rate there was nothing abnormal for him to worry about, so he decided to wind down for the night, finally making himself comfortable in the privacy of his own quarters. 

... ... ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ... ...

What started as a mild annoying headache had now escalated to a full on migraine, medication didn’t help, relaxing didn’t help, not even the comfort of the dark helped. The elder had begun to pace around the room, flipping through books he’d made levitate all around him with chaos abilities, looking for answers and finding nothing that could compare to what he was feeling.

At this point he was on edge, his skull crushing headache was making it hard to think or even focus, and now his body began to ache badly. Something was happening to him, but he was too blindsided by pain to notice, until it was too late. 

What proceeded felt like a blur of sensations for Spectre, he could feel sharp claws as he grabbed at himself, easily ripping whatever fabric was on him. His growling had become more visceral in nature, sounding less like a man and more like a beast. At some point he’d end up stumbling on all fours on the floor, yet the room around him looked a lot smaller than it usually did. He had the strong urge to scream into the air, but all he could hear were howls.

... ... ◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ❨ ◯ ... ...

Sojourner had made his way to his father’s quarters. While he’d given his father some space to take care of himself and unwind after the day’s event, 3 hours of silence from the elder was concerning. Sojourner knew his father well enough that he knew he’d at least acknowledge one of the messages he’d sent asking if he was alright. He feared that his father was going through one of his ‘bad days’, perhaps the incident had triggered something in him, regardless he needed to know that his father was alright especially after that strange howling he thought he heard earlier. 

His fears would be nearly confirmed when he walked into Spectre’s room and saw that is was thrashed. His books were tossed all around the floor, furniture was knocked over, what remained of his clothes were tattered shreds, and the room was covered in large deep scratches. While he’s seen his father through the worst of his mental health struggles, this was rather extreme, now fearing that the Legion could be behind this. The more he thought about what scenarios could have caused this, the more he began internally panicking, Sojourner would take a breath and tried to remain calm as his father had taught him to do in crisis situations. 

“Pops?” He began calling out, hoping he would still be here and just hiding at best. 

“Sir?! Are you here? Where are you?…It’s just me… just wanted to check up on you… after today and all… Pops?!!” He continued to call out as he looked around the room for any sign of him, only finding more disarray in the process.

“Da-!“ Sojourner stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed a pair of glowing red eyes staring straight at him from a dark corner of the room.

While red eyes were typically a sign of his father’s presence, there was something very different about these eyes, just by noting their positioning in the room, whatever this was would tower over his father’s height. A deep growl could be heard coming from its direction. Before Sojourner could even act the creature had lunged at him, pinning him to the ground with a hardy thud, knocking the wind out of him. Sojourner attempted to push the creature off of him or even manage to slip away but it was of no use, the creature was huge and heavy, its large claws had a good grip on his chest. 

Surprisingly enough while the snarling creature got in Sojourner’s face he wasn’t mauling him. While a good sign a very odd one at that, instead the creature was sniffing? Him? 

“Urg… get.. off.. me!” Sojourner managed to shout between hard breaths, his hands beginning to glow green with chaos energy in retaliation. To Sojourner’s utter shock, the creature complied backing off from the echidna. He immediately got up, preparing to defend himself, but the creature would just circle him, observing him with a low displeased growl but no intention of attacking. 

“What the hell…” Now that the echidna was in no immediate threat, he was able to get a good look at this ‘creature’. It was unlike any life form he’d encountered before on island, it was massive and beast like. It walked on all fours like a canine but it’s claws were huge and looked like they were meant more for digging. It had wolf-like ears but also long spines like an echidna would, and a massive tail. He could even see something shimmering on his body through its thick unkempt fur. 

Cybernetics? On this beast? Could this be a plot from the Legion… what the hell is this thing? The more he studied this creature the more familiar it’s appearance felt to him. His black red fur with hits of white showing his age, his piercing red eyes, even the arrangement of his cybernetics… It didn’t dawn on Sojourner until the creature faced him again, noticing the white crescent moon marking on his chest that starkly stood out against his dark fur. 

“D-Dad?” Sojourner muttered in disbelief…

‣[Continue?]

[eri-pl]

of Men again

AKA "Gold, East, Easterlings, humans in general and other evil-coded stuff" AKA "no, Morgoth, your trademarks are invalid" AKA "reclaiming the symbolics" AKA "another post on reading Tolkien in Christian context"

And by "Christian context" I mean less the values and more the "Silm is a fantasy prequel-fanfic for the Bible, especially the New Testament" (which is at least in some points of Tolkien's life, how he wrote it)

And as all fanfic authors, GMs and generally people working creatively in a preestablished world, especially one with some preestablished future, there's no fun like foreshadowing. Seriously. Adding foreshadowing to everything is the best creative fun. OK, I'm biased. Anyway

So, what do we have in the Silm? West is Valinor, East is the evil guys. Also, dark-skinned guys are generally in majority (I know Bór exists) evil (which is racist, but we'll make it less-racist in a moment) and serve Morgoth. He just goes and claims stuff as his own, and the Valar hold on to what is left.

hmm... I wanted to add silver/gold and moon/sun divides here, but they get complicated and aren't a good example, even if I instinctively map them to the West/East divide. I think it's just me in this case.

What do we have in the Bible? Where do the main event happens? East. To this day, churches face east, because east is the holy-ish direction. Also, symbolically, sunrise is a big thing.

That's a good metaphor for the elf-human difference. Elves are chasing the sunset, so that the last rays fade slower and last so very long. Humans cannot chase. The night falls upon them, but then the sun rises anew (spoiler: it doesn't set after that). But first the night must fall. And it is sad and scary and all that.

West-facing Elves versus East-facing Men.

So, back to the main event. Easterlings... well, the Jews aren't very pale-skinned or grey-eyed or beardless. To put it mildly. So it's kinda "Tolkien is racist in places", but maybe also kinda "Tolkien goes for maximum contrast and Morgoth getting defeated from the center of the lands he'd claimed as his own" maybe. a bit.

Like maybe in his mind putting so many evil Easterlings into the story still balanced well, because hey, later they got Jesus and all His early blorbos followers? Or maybe I shouldn't go guessing what was Jirt thinking.

Anyway, if you look at Silm as a Bible fanfic, some things suddenly jump into places.

I'm not saying it's the only way to look at it, I recently listed 2 or 3 (if we count Arthurian myth as separate) other angles. Silm is multidimensional, various parts of the story make sense when looking from various angles, that's why it's so incoherent at times.

[kuntya]