#maximum balloon

[fumifooms]

Marcille’s dress: threads and importance

This was supposed to be part of my upcoming Marcille & Chilchuck arc analysis, since it’s all about the themes of fantasy and confrontation with reality in Marcille’s arc, her mental state and fairytale coding etc etc, but that already was long af and this is something good to have as a standalone anyways, so. Here we go.

……….. So first of all it is 12 of august and suddenly my work phones are ringing to break me the news:

So this interview came in right when I was working on this analysis again. This now confirms the main intent of what the outfit was meant to evoke. There’s definitely a looot to look into just this and we’ll be going into it, but a complete analysis of Marcille & Momcille analysis would be ideal & that’ll be for another day. We will be bringing her up often throughout all this though.

So. "Why should I care about Marcille’s outfit?" Beyond possible story importance, on a metatextual and thematic level, analyzing imagery something provokes can be valuable and compelling even if it isn’t intentional or is flawed (historically inaccurate, etc). Less narrative wise and more character development wise, the lion does say the dress was to give her courage, and as her demon his job is reading her heart and giving her what she desires. What does her outfit say about her overarching character and her current mental state? Why does it give her courage, how does it do that, what part of it does that?

Like I just implied, when talking about this sort of thing, there are two aspects: the personal meaning something holds for the character, and imagery for the audience, which may or may not align with said character’s perspective or intent. Character vs meta. Because of the meta aspect, imagery can be disconnected from the character or the wider narrative, or that disconnect can itself be a tool to show the character’s mental state, unable to recognize or reconcile how different to their intent their being comes across as. This is to say that all of the analysis angles I’ll be bringing up in this post can apply to the same analysis of Marcille’s character and psychology, even all simultaneously. The different sections here are more or less ordered from most meta angle first to most character-motivated and strictly analyses of canon last, with little interludes examining specific aspects of the outfit regardless of reading. Imagery here will be looked at as a framing device, a way to comment on the themes and her character or her arc. For fun! Forward march!!

Table of contents:

Shepherdess: guidance.

Sorceress: power.

Princess: fantasy.

Funeral gown: mourning.

Mother: emotion, balance and identity. The conclusion ⭐️ Skip to here for strictly analysis of canon intent

Shepherdess

We’re doing an iceberg but I start from the bottom and make my way up, the shepherdess reading is the most meta one but it’s also the one I’m most interested in covering. It’s the longest section and the one with the biggest (only), um, history lesson. Feel free to skim if you only want the conclusions and not the reasonings.

Marcille? A shepherd? In action and wider imagery, the links are more or less straightforward (and will be discussed), but first I want to tackle the visual aspect because it was the most striking part of it to me and it’s the most complex one to explain…

The shepherdess look has been honed into a specific image in modern consciousness. There are always the same essential elements: a curved hook staff, a hat (often a kind that curls around the head), a poofy skirt for an elegant dress (wether fancy or modest), most often with lacing down the front and some cleavage. It’s of course not anywhere close to a perfect match if you compare Marcille’s dungeon lord outfit to pictures of shepherdesses, but it is very reminiscent. Nowadays, the classic hat of shepherdesses that Toy Story’s Bo Peep is emblematic of is indeed considered mostly a child’s accessory as well, halfway between a trimmed hat and a cap, has the shapes of a bonnet, so this coincidentally also lines up with the elven earmuffs as I’ll touch on later.

What

Wether or not seeing Marcille’s dunlord outfit will have reminded you of a shepherd probably depends decently on culture? I did research to get material for this and the start was real rough let me tell you— the only things I could find were… Bo Peep from Toy Story and illustrated nursery rhymes. In modern times, the image of a shepherdess, "shepherd woman that looks ladylike", is only a vague understanding we’ve gathered from the few woman shepherds we’ve seen in media that weren’t meant to be historically accurate. Myself, without Toy Story it’d only have felt like hazy fever dream memories of illustrated nursery rhymes from my childhood. It’s impressive that this concept still persists even if it’s only perpetuated through ONE character and a niche archetype, and for the word shepherdess to have had such a strong association with this look in my mind still.

Above: concept art for Bo Peep from Toy Story by Daniela Strijleva and Jean Gillmore, herself based on the nursery rhyme Little Bo Peep whose depictions are always in this style of outfit. Top right is a depiction of Little Bo Peep in a 1913 postcard, unknown artist, but if you want you can look up for vintage picture book depictions as well.

So what the hell? Where does this very specific look for the concept of a woman shepherd come from? Where does this conception, this specific shepherdess style wear and figure originate? Well the specific term that’ll get your research results is indeed "shepherdess". Art history time let’s go.

Okay so there’s no way those people were actually shepherds, right? What’s with that? To cut to the chase, turns out it’s mostly a trend that popped up in 18th century, one most associated with rococo but also with romanticism. Yes yes, a trend. The bourgeoisie deciding from hearing about the painted selfies of other ladies that dressing as fancy versions of poor people is hip. The new hit, becoming a dainty ladylike shepherdess for a day!

Artwork credits: In order, 1: Thomas Hudson (1701–1779) / 2: Arthur Devis (1712-1787) / 3: Jean-Honoré Fragonard (1750-1752) / 4: Sir Samuel Luke Fildes (1844-1927) / 5: Léon Sault (1839-1921) / 6: T. H. Lacy (1865) Some fun extra sources: Anecdotes: "Marie-Antoinette playing shepherdess", statues by John Cheere, Essays: Extravagance in revolutionary times: ladies of rococo, cottagecore through history, haven’t read this one but focuses on the shepherdess figure in 18th century plays and scultpures

Googling "ladies dressed as shepherdess" will give you a slew of 18th century portraits of, indeed, well-off noble ladies having portraits of themselves painted while dressed as "shepherdesses", well, the romanticized version of one anyways. I also found one from the 1650s. The trend also continued onwards, albeit less so once culture moved on. The word definition itself acknowledges this, unlike its french equivalent, as far as I know women shepherds are often still just called shepherds, meanwhile the shepherdess as per the Oxford dictionary: a female shepherd, or, an idealized or romanticized rustic maiden in pastoral literature. I don’t think I can do the explanation of the phenomenon’s origin and cultural context better than the essays I linked so I’ll quote:

"During the 18th century, an artistic movement known as Romanticism spread throughout Europe, seeking to evoke an idealized world of rural simplicity in contrast to the urban, industrialized centers of the cities. This nostalgic vision of a peaceful countryside was expressed through various art forms, including oil paintings and lead garden statues. The subjects of these artworks often depicted shepherds, huntsmen, and other rural figures, presenting an idyllic way of life, particularly for urban audiences." -Vizcaya Museum

"The cottage core aesthetic that people think and strive to attain, follows the ability of the wealthy class to be able to get away and take a break from the aristocracy and city life by escaping to the country. Marie Antoinette was an example of this, “… she had an entire hameau (rustic village) built as a place of leisure: it comprised meadows, lakes, grottos, streams, a dovecote, a dairy, cottages, vineyards, fields, orchards, vegetable gardens, and pagan temples. It was a fully-operational farm, where the queen would host social events. She and her entourage would “cosplay” as farmers and shepherdesses.” Marie Antoinette shows the “pretty,” the fantasy that people want, people want an escape from their reality. Cottage core is very different from one’s life, and the lack of knowledge of the true struggles of simple living, farming, and other cottage core elements makes people imagine and create a fantasy." -ZOESTAM1 (you’re a legend ty)

"Renowned for her great interest in fashion and more notably her extreme extravagance, Marie Antoinette set this ideal of the common shepherdess or milkmaid through her enjoyment of dressing in costume. She would often don the clothing of a dairymaid, a pastime that went so far as to see her commission the building of her own personal dairy at her palace Le Petit Trianon. These Rococo versions of lower class dress feature heavily in rococo painting such as in Fragonard’s The Shepherdess (1750-52), where a middle class woman is seen wearing a highly exaggerated interpretation of the dress of a lower-class woman. However, despite complying with the details of shepherdess dress it still features the expensive fabrics that are seen in images of Madame Pompadour. This interest in the pleasures of pastoral life shows the extent of the ‘myth and fairytale, festivity and fantasy, theatre and music’ that was epitomised in the paintings of the elegant women of the Rococo. The dresses made for and worn by the ladies of the Rococo are emblematic of the changes in society. The newly found ease of life for the middle class is seen in these images through the mythical landscapes, statues that appear to come to life and through the elaborate dress of the figures that combines a sense of the élite with that of the costume of common man. Wolfgang Menzel describes the Rococo in 1859 as a time that represented ‘empty and meaningless ornamentation’, a feeling that was certainly shared by the lower classes of Paris and one that was expressed in the French Revolution in 1789. The revolution sought to punish those of a higher class, meaning that figures expressed in the paintings of Fragonard, Boucher and Watteau would be guillotined within the same century." -Gabriella Sotiriou

To be sure, there have also been depictions of shepherdesses in history that were realistic and accurate, humble, commonfolk, both before and after this movement. There’s just this… Sweep in the 18th century that forever changed the aesthetic associated with the shepherdess figure in a part of culture.

So to summarize. Rich ladies LARPing as rural peasants for fun and portraits. From there you can easily see the throughline of how this very elite vision of a shepherdess would become the model for if, say, a children’s book illustrator wanted to design a shepherdess for a nusery rhyme, books which at the time would be luxury goods, the target audience noble little girls who should aspire to look as cute, elegant and well dressed as the shepherd girl in the book. Okay! We just have to get lost in the sauce a little more before getting to a full look and conclusion.

More fun context, in english the main shepherdess nursery rhyme is Little Bo Peep, don’t ask me how it goes I have no clue. But in french I could mention many like the nursery rhyme Il était une bergère (there once was a shepherdess) that comes from the 17th century, but the most sung one and the one I knew growing up is Il pleut, il pleut, bergère (it’s raining, it’s raining, shepherdess) originally from 1780. I did not expect this when starting to fall down this whole rabbithole going "Haha dunlord Marcille kinda looks like Bo Peep", but looking at that latter song’s wikipedia page there’s a whole thing there too. It was sung right after the storming of the Bastille during the very beginning of the french revolution in 1789— In which the opening lyrics, warning the shepherdess that rain is starting and a storm is coming, to "get your sheep, go home, and take cover"(though more poetically), became more goading than the original fairy godmother energy. The shepherdess here in this revolution context became the queen Marie-Antoinette, and the rainy storm is the french revolution brewing. It is said that that the author of the song hummed it at the gallows before being executed at french authority’s decree. We see then just how much the figure of the rococo shepherdess became a symbol with hated connotations and ties to rebellions.

So! The figure of the shepherdess is hazy to most people nowadays, but historically it was associated with excess, extravagance, classism, misused unearned power and the then-queen of France. It was both the ignorant and selfishly idealistic aesthetic that the queen wished to embody and that twisted the original commoner humble conception of a shepherdess, and the infamous image embodying her faults that was then used against her in mocking resentment and revolutionist sentiment. The representation of the fantasy world she created for herself with her power, and the ironic reminder of the real world she was exploiting and ignoring to do so.

You’ll notice the shepherdesses are typically blondes, especially in Bo Peep or more modern depictions. Marcille’s name is french.

What

… But all of that was just to inform on the topic before we got to the links and parallels that can be drawn between it and the story & Marcille, and to prove I’m not making up "the shepherdess look" in the first place. I already briefly went into visual similarities and appearance-related connotations (bonnet, rounded staff, dress with cleavage, lacing like a corset, poofy skirt, elegant and formal yet promiscuous undertones) in the previous section, so now I’ll be properly going into what this comparison can mean for her and for the narrative.

I summarized this section as shepherdess: guidance, and ultimately that’s what I think this focuses on best about her.

I do a quick overlook of her mom friend tendencies here (+ here) if needed, but I think we can agree Marcille often acts motherly through canon, not only fussing over her friends and coworkers often overbearingly so but also directly caring for them like helping them bathe, enjoying being able to do that for people she cares about (washing Senshi’s beard included). But also, often deciding herself to adopt a sort of wisdom-imparting dynamic within a group or relationship where she knows what’s best for others better than the individuals concerned do, where she’ll scold or push others out of their comfort zones as if she’s doing them a favor (Chilchuck), where she’ll talk in a holier-than-thou tone about a topic (often an academic or moral one), that classic long lived race condescension as some characters put it.

So isn’t the figure of a shepherdess, one who cares after sheeps, one who directs them in a direction she chooses and watches over them grazing the grass as their protector guardian and guide fitting? Isn’t that what she figuratively wants to do, obtaining unfathomable power to shape others’ lives quite literally even to the point of changing their lifespans regardless of their thoughts on the matter, being a figure that chooses for them and keeps them safe as someone who knows better? A bundle of good intentions and genuine care, but still patronizing and robbing them of their freedom of choice. I’d argue this is a large part of her arc with Chilchuck, and even for her dynamic with Izutsumi! Looking at Marcille saying farewell to Izutsumi near the end when she thinks she’s going to prison, it’s easy to wonder about how this is the same Marcille who once refused to trust Falin’s judgement and choice to be with her brother, thought she shouldn’t be away from her and what Marcille decides to allow and not allow for Falin’s career— the same Marcille who here in tears with Izutsumi is telling her to take care of herself as she leaves to travel alone, trusting her to make choices for herself by herself and supporting her in it even through her heavy emotions and the grief and loss she’s already anticipating, but learning to accept.On a more literal parallel level, in this last arc she commands an army of monsters at her will effortlessly, making them march towards the surface and then into battle. Sending out orders through her hands, words and staff like a war general, ready to choose to change the world to fit her wishes.

As to what feelings dressing like a shepherdess could quell, I think it’s a way for her to reaffirm her goals and feel certain in them. Her friends she respects just told her that her lifelong goal of extending everyone’s lifespans is a pipe dream that could do harm as much as good, and even though she ignored her it did shake her, it is after that and just before the upcoming battle that the winged lion deems she’s in need of a morale boosting wardrobe change. Marcille feels more directionless and aimless than she should, so the winged lion gives her an outfit that reaffirms and steels her goals, examplifies her motherly and controlling instincts and validates them, encourages them. Wouldn’t a shepherdess figure make sense then?

The fakeness aspect of the shepherdess fashion also reflects how she’s not fit to be a proper dungeon lord, as that requires maintaining an ecosystem that she doesn’t have the knowledge, experience or will to manage. She’s a shepherdess in looks and has the power to command people places, but she doesn’t have the hands-on farming experience that is needed to make a dungeon lord a competent one, a good gardener so to speak. Marcille has high academia knowledge of dungeons but when it comes to basic care that’s more in line with farmer experience, she’s largely stumped. She lets herself be moved by aesthetics rather than practicality, like with her spiders and her coatl.

If we put the history of the shepherdess figure in context with her arc, she wants to mimic the look of a folk hero, while still being privileged with power she can exerce over others. It gets to a key trait and arc theme of Marcille: romanticization. Which is in big part tied to her idealism, and that idealism often makes her more resistant to accepting things, but now I’m getting ahead of myself.

(Ironically, as we’ll go over in latter sections) This can also reflect how Marcille’s mother was an elf, presumably from high elven society from her elegance, court etiquette and magical skills- (meaning she likely got a good education), but moved to a tallman region feeling its culture less stifling and more fun, prefering its food and clothes etc etc. She’s still court mage, but to elven society being part of a short lived race’s court is a downgrade from being part of elven society at all, so here the "noble willingly becoming "lower class" because they find it pleasant or fun" is fitting. (Not an actual critique of her choices or morals whatsoever, just an observation.)

Marcille is not seemingly in touch with her elven culture. The dress tallman fashion, but the earmuffs would be elven, perhaps denoting the wrong or fully romanticized usage of it. Like meshing two things together that clash— in-world in this case cultures, but here in context it’d be class, and as we’ll touch on later in another section, identities.

Marcille also grew up around in a rural region surrounded by "books and chickens", so it’s not like a rural identity or a relationship with farm animals is fully irrelevant or separate from her as a person. The chickens make the egg imagery Marcille uses to explain souls in the same body and in some art extra interesting.

Like mentioned, shepherdesses also obviously have an association to lambs and goats especially. Which is fun not only for figurative parallels like her leading the monsters and everyone like lambs to slaughter into war but also how the demon has been shown as a goat and a sheep before. In a way though, Marcille is the lamb innocent as she is and the demon is the shepherd. After all, Marcille’s dress even has some animal-like features, fur all over including her ears and even a tail. The dress is not only to make Marcille feel more confident, but to distract Marcille from having second thoughts and self-doubt that could make her think better of being a dungeon lord, like she ends up doing after talking with her party in the tower. The demon takes on forms to lure in his victims, as the adventurer’s bible puts it forms that make his victims trust him. At his very beginning, he would take on the form of food and offer himself up for eating. Similarly, I think it’s interesting to consider the dynamic between Marcille and Winged Lion as one where he presents himself as a servant, as the one guided and ordered and not the one pulling strings and walking her like a sheep to breaking him out of the dungeon. You could also mention how the sheep form the demon has taken before is when he was traumatized in a way— The time all humans died around him that made him live in loneliness for what’s implied to be quite some time, the time when he reconsiderd his whole approach from people pleasing towards cunning and control.

Tldr: - History makes it a good comparison for aesthetic-obsessed well-off people who want to play folk hero while actually being selfish or misguided, it’s a paradox of a humble station represented by unattainably expensive fancy flourish and frills. - Marcille herself is of rural origins where she interacted most with books and chickens. She has a taste for over-the-top aesthetics and dresses (not as much as the golden kingdom’s people, but enough to desire her dunlord dress) and novels, and she is a mom friend type, caring after others (in bathing and dressing and healing and comforting and guiding) - As a dungeon lord, the way she commands an army of monsters in perfect synchrony with shepherdess-like staff in hand makes the shepherdess comparison very literal. The demon having been notably a goat, a sheep and maybe even a lamb in the past also makes this imagery more compelling and fitting.

This angle shows Marcille wanting to take on the role of the shepherd, the lighthouse so to speak, the mother that guides the people whom she wants to change the life & world of for the better. They need only follow her lead and they’ll be shown how great their life could be.

Where does this imagery fall? Definitely all meta and not in-world, this is for the audience and has no in-world acknowledgement whatsoever. Again. I know this was kinda insane, this is the most wild and meta section of the post like I mentioned and like I implied I don’t even personally think it was intentional on Kui’s part honestly! But as art doesn’t exist in a vacuum, even when there’s no intent, imagery can bring an interesting and relevant framing, angle or flavor to the original text. A lot lines up well and there are small coincidences, but again I am not saying Kui intended Marcille to parallel Marie-Antoinette help. Isn’t it kinda neat though… Just a little bit…

Okayy so things are calming down from here on out we’re cruising guys

Interlude: earmuffs, elven but childish

It was important for me to get a groundwork analysis done for the earmuffs before going into the next ones. This interlude has a focus on supporting the shepherdess section with comparisons, but I want to take a moment to focus entirely on elven earmuffs, their connotations and existence as an in-world fashion accessory, and thus environmental context for how Marcille may see them.

So, if we go back on the shepherdess for a bit— The shepherdess fashion had a hat iconic enough for it to be called the bergere hat, but the type that’s more associated with them nowadays is the type that Toy Story Bo Peep wears, which is a bonnet.

To me it’s intuitive to say that elven earmuffs are very alike bonnets, even in cultural context. I recommend browsing the wikipedia link I put for the pictures. It used to be very widespread and popular headwear, and to be fair probably still is even though not fashionable much anymore. It used to be, though, fancy pretty laces and this and that were put on it and trends were made of it. A type of bonnet especially has become emblematic of the shepherdess look, like mentioned.

The elven earmuffs are subject of discourse within the fandom and the biggest reason is the age connotation they have, and I do have to say it’s less strict in practice than people like to say. Kui not only keeps herself from explaining the social perception of them in a categorical end-all be-all way, but we also see a range of earmuff designs worn by adults in the doodles. We see that adults can and do wear them even if we don’t have much coherent context for it, and perhaps more importantly we see it implied that there is a market for earmuff designs especially with the fashion of it, which solidifies there are customers and adult customers for them.

Similarly to bonnets irl, it might feel weird to see an adult or anyone wearing it, but it’s not like it’s illegal or strictly reserved to some kinds of people. Rather, it’d be embarrassing, like the elven bonnets in Dungeon Meshi. It covers ears while still looking and feeling dainty, often accessorized and designed with lace or ribbons. It’s very strongly coded with babies and was very popular across baby dolls, ads, etc, though it’s starting mostly considered vintage nowadays. Though these are associations so strong that for example in Alice in Wonderland, the original book like the 1999 movie, when the baby gets transformed into a pig, understanding that the pig is the baby and A baby remains smoothly because it keeps its bonnet. It helps sell it.

(And if we’re referencing Alice in Wonderland while talking about Dunmeshi, psst, look up the chapter cover for chapter 64, rabbits 1)

Beyond babies the traditional simple bonnet is associated with rural people especially women. I do not want to sound like a bonnet expert because I am not— but from my understanding it does make sense if in occident rural people are the majority of who still wears them to this day. One reason being that more isolated less rich regions tend to care about being trendy less, and expectations on dress differ from region to region of course— And that’s a point I want to make about elven earmuffs, because I do think especially in colder regions like Kui mentions they would be more widely used and considered commonplace for older adults like perhaps the ones in the doodles. Just like how gnome hats go in and out of fashion constantly, Kui does have a good grasp of how fashion can be treated and coded amongst people and groups. It’s earmuffs for a culture Marcille isn’t fully in touch with, so it could take part in reaffirming Marcille’s identity and belonging in it, wether or not she knows all of what it implies. Like said, in the pages we see seemingly earmuffs high fashion for adults. It’s something young teens and young adults are said to be culturally ok to do, and people do generally like to look young so, it could be part of the cute hip young woman look. Would it be thematic for her to wear childish outfit? Yes, but I honestly can’t see it bringing her "courage" much if that’s the main intent. We’ll talk about it more later though.

Some do say that historical fashion is Kui’s weakness so to speak lol, and I’m not one to disprove that. Again, I can’t claim to know what Kui intended or didn’t intend to do and where she got inspiration from consciously or not.

Sorceress

Okay okay okay my enthusiasm for explaining historical/trope meta sorta started and ended with the shepherdess let’s get this done. I am interested in laying the groundowrk that I’m not making shit up in pop culture and for that I have to build up context so we’re all on the same page, but this is just what it says on the thin. If you want a recap of tropes surrounding black magic sorceresses and how they look beyond the minimum, here’s a couple relevant tvtropes pages: Evil Wears Black, Evil Costume Switch, Evil Sorceress, skimpy villains. More interestingly, you could argue that Dungeon Lord Marcille apparents herself most to the vain sorceress, even though what she would like to be is closer to the lady of black magic akin to her mother’s demeanor, and meanwhile the regular Marcille we know and love acts most like the black magician girl. The latest I would have never guessed existed is a trope of a spunky outgoing girl deuteragonist who’s gifted in dark magic and it’s honestly really fitting, which I find a really on the nose coincidence. This is still optional, beside the points I’m about to make.

Marcille, like Chilchuck, is concerned with reputation and social perception. Beyond other examples of it, there’s how Marcille prefers to let other people believe she’s a full elf and how Thistle’s shaming affects/embarrasses her — her reason for not being upfront about her origins socially not being shame but that it’s a hassle to explain and deal with, the questions and judgement and differential treatment, but moreso!!! There’s how similarly, she’s not ashamed of her dark magic research & knowledge, but she avoids talking about it. She knows it’s a touchy topic and kept the main topic of her research a secret for 2 years of working together. It only came to light because it was absolutely necessary to save Falin. She knows the reputation of dark magic and readily fires off counterarguments to Chilchuck talking shit about it with quick practiced ease.

But now as she becomes a dungeon lord and the canaries know everything and they’re are after her, there’s no more hiding or pretending or deflecting. She embraces the reputation of dark magic and her academic identity fully with an outfit that screams "I’m a black witch" and wears it like armor.

This is more in line with what the people who don’t know Marcille were framing her as during her dungeon lord stint, Marcille’s in-world image at that time, the same way Thistle became known as the mad mage with time. Evil sorceress. Dark witch. It’s the epic villainess look. Mixing Maleficient with a D&D seductress look. It does a lot of skin especially for Marcille, off the shoulder sleeves, a line of skin showing from inbetween her breasts to her navel, a skirt cut like Rin’s dress... The deadly sin of lust in french is the word for luxury— lust is desire but it’s for as money or power as much as sexuality.

Unlike with the shepherdess there’s less specific boxes to check. The main’s color black or at least dark, there’s magic (preferably black or forbidden or cursed) and the outfit’s feminine and elegant and a dress? You got the winning recipe. Then there’s extra boxes like having a fur or feather trim, having a magic staff, long sleeves… If you want examples beyond literal Maleficient, I’d google for sexy sorceress halloween costumes lol. Google also showed me some AI art that’s exactly what I’m talking about whole looking those up and that sorta drives the point that this has become a vague but striking figure. We’re not operating with poofy skirts here, that’s for the kooky villains. But the length of the skirt and the vibe is right, and fur and especially feathers aren’t unheard of tacked onto their dresses, which ironically Maleficient both wore in her important 2014 movie, funnily enough the year Dungeon Meshi’s serialization started. Though, especially with her barefootness it also gives her a of… Lost fey witch vibes more than dark sorceress, depending on how you see it.

Oozing maturity makes you feel in control. It makes you feel adult and powerful and independence. This is also very true for the mother section later on, but here we focus on the confidence aspect and less the assurance, if the distinction makes sense— Confidence coming from within yourself and assurance coming from an external source in this case.

"Fumi you’re saying Marcille wanted to look like an evil sorceress?" No! But unconsciously or not she’s drawing on these vibes. She’s done hiding and she’s done hiding the topic of her research and what she’s ready to do to succeed, the extent of her determination, her "dark" magic, that very term she’s been fighting against. She’ll wear a dress that reflects that and gives her confidence in pursuing what she wants in plain sight. It’s relevant for this to remember that Marcille getting her dunlord makeover is soon after she had a conversation with her friends who tried to talk her out of her biggest trauma and purpose and want, even laughed at her goal, and juuust before a huge life or death battle. She laid it all out bare and told the full story and the full truth and argued a bit, and now she’s sent them away for a time while she does her dunlord thing and bam here’s your confidence dress my queen. You’re scared about the canaries? You just need a fit to remind you you’re strong and kick ass. You know, because you’re a cool mage with convictions and nothing holding you back anymore and also you’re hot and in control.

She has power now, the demon even referring to himself as it, Power, and she’s going to wield it. Feels confident in seizing and using it— momentarily.

Is this angle character or audience focused? I do think both, because yes these powerful vibes would make her feel confident like I went over and theorized, but definitely a lot relies on an audience level. It’s our official sign, to both us readers and to Laios’ party explaning their reactions lmao, that "oh she’s truly lost it". This is her dark evil wardrobe change. We see her get her goth makeover and we know she’s gone to the dark side. Jojo Siwa moment. (Sorry)

Interlude: fur, luxurious but monstrous

Ok what’s up with all the fur on her skirt and sleeves and the furry ears though. Why a poofy fur dress. We’ve never seen Marcille show interest in fur lined outfits or such before. At most, there’s her trying out the golden kingdom outfit, with its antlers and leopard pelt uhh lointcloths? Which- that is a point to make I suppose lol, gave her a taste of bold high fashion. Her dress is pretty out there as the character reactions hint. Here’s even someone from reddit comparing it to Cardi B’s 2024 met gala dress! If you go back to the earmuffs pages, there’s one ear design with something that looks like fur too. More seriously, fur has long been a way to show class and wealth, because they’re expensive, especially on garments that are meant to be not just practical but pretty.

Quoting @room-surprise : "Costume design wise, the gown just screams class and wealth and power, like as a costumer when I saw it I immediately went 'evil renaissance queen on her way to war'."

But, especially the furry ears, for a manga about monsters that feels quite on the nose right? As revealed by the official dunlord Marcille acrylic stand pictured later in the post, she even has a tail. It definitely represents that her opinion on monsters has shifted imo. Like, it could be just visuals but then that defeats the psychological look into Marcille that the outfit gives us, it could just be a nod to who’s really in control or aesthetics, but I do feel it shows how Marcille has grown less repulsed of monsters. Let’s remember what Marcille said about eating monsters in the barometz chapter, that even if it isn’t logical she has a fear that eating a monster means taking something bad into herself, that it’s dirty and corrupting. Marcille, who takes horror in knowing that fertilizer aka poop has been used to grow vegetables that she then ate. She’s always had a bit of disconnect with ecosystems and the cycle of life so to speak, foiled by Senshi, she wants to defeat death and she doesn’t know how to balance a dungeon because she has trouble tending to ecosystems unlike Falin, she sees them like math when she should see it all as organic living balance. So in the end, it can either show that her mental state is so unstable for her to have been reduced to such a state alongside her barefootness, or on its opposite that she’s accepted the important place of animals and monsters more in the world, that she doesn’t see them as dirty anymore, or even that she likens herself to them. Maybe she’s become a bit of a monster herself, after all, because the dungeon does corrupt, the dungeon devours like how its structure was once compared to a digestive system by Laios, because if the demon isn’t a shepherd and Marcille isn’t a sheep the demon is still who actually has control over everything in the dungeon including the monsters, despite wanting to make believe it’s the dungeon lords who do, because the dungeon lord is a puppet of a demon, just another one of its monsters, its creatures in its guts.

Princess : fantasy

This is it this is the moment. I reworked my post structure after the interview but this was originally going to be the last angle explored after funeral gown instead of before it, this is also the angle that’s most important to my Marcille & Chilchuck analysis. Dungeon Meshi has some fairytale and princess prince royalty knights etc etc imagery and this is a continuation of that in a way, topic for another day though.

As we know Marcille is someone who loves aesthetics, she loves novels and pretty things and idealizing and romanticizing, and this can be seen as the core of the outfit to her. If her situation feels unsettling, it can be fixed by a change in framing, by an aesthetic by an angle by a cool look. Something that inspires and makes the situation feel less alarming, positioning herself as the protagonist rather than the villain. It was given to her by the Winged Lion when she started being more anxious to the battle that is to come, it has the goal to make her more confident but in this context very pointedly the goal to make that self-doubt go away— to keep Marcille from thinking about her situation some more and realizing she may be on the wrong path, it’s to isolate her in her dungeon lord world as part of her role, it’s to keep her in that malleable unstable state and encourage her to chase fantasy and stay in her own bubble of makebelieve. Do you follow me? It’s "don’t think about the stakes, don’t rethink your goals, what you’re doing is right and you should keep going however you want to", it’s "you don’t have to face reality, I’m here and now your dreams are the reality that matters". It’s fantasy.

It’s an epic poofy dress that makes her look cute yet cool. It’s the imagery of a princess in a tower. Calling out to her from beneath a balcony, overseeing her army and her kingdom. A princess dress not unlike the one she felt embarrassed in in the Golden Kingdom, where they talked of prophecies and kings, and wanted to be complimented in, to laughter and dismissal. And even though those things feel more disconcerting in real life than it does in stories then, becoming dungeon lord is good at blurring the lines to the point you can’t tell your doppelgangers of loved ones aren’t the real thing, and the Winged Lion chose her so that has to count for something, she was chosen.

If the princess imagery is left unnoticed by Marcille herself, then I definitely think it was meant for the audience to some degree. If not the poofy dress and heroine status alone, then the tower imagery and the balcony scene. The tower and the princess, the dragon, the knight, the prophecized king, the witch, the monster army, it’s all very reminiscent of fairytales like I mentioned. The balcony thing is a classic play thing though like that is Romeo & Juliette imagery right there, calling out to her from beneath a balcony?!! Aladdin too, Rapunzel, heroes and princes climbing towers to come see and save princesses.

This is the point that is most related to her love of novels and dalclan. Romanticization may be the name of the game for the history behind the shepherdess outfit style, but then fantasy would be the princess’. It’s also about twisting your current situation into something positive despite everything, but Marcille wasn’t that far gone yet, just struggling, framing and aesthetic still subtly help sell it all though. But if there’s something that’d make Marcille feel more confident and ready to do something, hype herself up or give her a twinge of comfort outfit wise, it’d be one that makes her feel like a princess.

Interlude: black, solemn but gloomy

Short one because it’s very straightforward but black is traditionally associated with evil and death, etc etc. Because of the former it’s often associated to powerful malevolent figures like villain sorceresses, but because of the latter irl it’s widely the color of funerals. It’s also cultivated this connotation of elegance, this sleek clean look both in modern and noble contexts, it’s very much this image of cool and ushakeable composure. Interestingly, we can’t 100% tell because mangas are in black and white, but black seems to be Marcille’s mom’s color, what she always dresses in.

Funeral gown

This was the most popular reading by the fandom before the interview and with good reason. As we got the confirmation, it’s nudging towards the intended one! It argued that the dress is a funeral gown, because her mother wore dresses like it and because of its black color, meanwhile the childish earmuffs are because her mourning her father happened when she was a child, because she feels frail etc etc. In her state with her current worries she’s feeling thrown back into her childhood, not unlike Thistle’s weird ambiguity there, feeling helpless just like then except now she has power to change it and a devil on her shoulder telling her all she has to do is affirm herself and take it.

It’s externalizing her trauma and validating it in turn, offering some catharsis and reminding her of her goal, defeating death so she never has to endure loss again.

As you may notice, both their outfits here are fur-lined too, so the amplification of that in her dunlord dress may be similar overcompensation to how she made the dress very revealing.

Interlude: barefootedness, filthy but earnest

Bloodstained bare feet no less. From what I can tell this is a direct callback to her being barefoot when resurrecting Falin. Again this could be a way of reminding herself of her goal and reminding herself all she’s accomplished, but it’s notable that Falin’s resurrection is something that made her feel very guilty and indecure because of how her becoming a chimera turned out. Maybe more about reminding her of what she has to fix and that she can’t give up on her goals including Falin.

Beyond that it’s interesting too though! Prim and proper Marcille who cares about her appearance and pouts at dirt just walking everywhere barefoot like nothing can hurt or bother her. There’s a sense of her being messy as a dungeon lord, her hair isn’t in an updo and looks unbrushed, she’s in a weird uncharacteristic outfit in a questionable mental state and she’s barefoot on top of it all. It also recalls a sense of vulnerability of course, reminding again an unstable mental state or showing desperation or how naked she might feel. Inversely, it can be more about acceptance, like in the last interlude we talked about knowing your place in the ecosystem and feeling secure in accepting it. Walking barefoot is to bare your skin to the ground, to walk knowing they’ll get dirtied and not minding it. Did you know humus and humilty are from the same word root?

In the end, it gives both ethereal forest fairy vibes and also poor little orphan vibes. Victorian sick child, especially when she gets carried by the winged lion all overwhelmed too haha. Very much gives her out of touch vibes, even if the bloodstained look is powerful. She’s willing to get her feet hands dirty to do what must be done.

Mother : balance

I turned this section into an excerpt post as well, here’s a link, serves as an essier to share highlight + allows me to put in more pictures since we hit the limit here…

Kui: "I just combined [a dress like what] her mother liked and [earmuffs] which are considered a little bit childish."

See what it’s doing here? Kui combined a dress from her mother with a hat for children, adult dress vs childish hat. Adulthood vs childhood. Mother vs child. It’s also notable that the dress is tallman fashion while the earmuffs are elven. Again she’s combining those distinct things into one. It’s about emotions and maturity. Stability and instability. Growing & potential vs having grown & knowing yourself. It’s about her cultures and expectations and how can she possibly keep up with all of them, like the genius child she was portrayed as? It’s duality it’s conflict it’s being pulled in opposite directions. It’s about identity.

Marcille wants to have all the answers and wants them all already, she already acts like she has everything figured out more often than not, when it comes to ways to harvest mandrakes or her image of Falin and Chilchuck and orcs or her rigid sense of ethics, but the story does show that she had growing to do, plus her main goal beyond keeping her friends safe and near her is that pursuit of knowledge for what she doesn’t yet have answers for— rewriting the laws of life and death. But, as we’ve all been told before, death is simply a part of life and we have to make our peace with that one way or another. Like Marcille says in the last chapter, this was in large part the lesson and arc she’s had to go through. A lesson that Marcille’s mother has learned herself, one that she has accepted and tried to pass on to her daughter, which didn’t work and kickstarted Marcille’s pursuit of extending lifespans. Marcille has to settle with uncertainty, with knowing life can end at any moment and knowing this is who she is even if the world has no answers for her as to what that means, she has to come to terms with ambiguity and inbetweens.

Marcille’s relationship with her mother is very interesting because it’s shown all in very small moments and implications, but we do see that Marcille’s mom is arguably her biggest role model. She’s the one who shows up in Marcille’s nightmare about monster food early on, she’s who told Marcille she’ll have to bear loss througout her life due to her lifespan, Marcille wears a choker like she does, it’s debatable that Marcille mimics her demeanor to seem more elven and dignified, in Marcille’s true nightmare she hides behind a portrait of her, she was the only living elven role model Marcille had around. Mother, who didn’t let grief of her husband rule the rest of her life, having even remarried, mother, who’s a court mage, mother, who pursued a life she wanted even if it cost her a lot. And we do know being an elf is important to Marcille! She seeks to conform to elven beauty standards rigidly, both in gender presentation and things like facial hair, and she’s masked as one since she was enrolled in the magic academy, as far as we know her first time away from home and her first big period of social contact since she isolated herself with chickens and books when she was younger. Books like the daltian clan, with an all elven cast except for the one half-elf she deeply related to.

Marcille’s bangs are also half down and half cut. Before she had to cut some hair to make familiars, long bangs were what Marcille wore for years, meanwhile in all of Marcille’s childhood flashbacks including at the magic academy her bangs were always cut short. As we know, hair is important to elves. Her hair is elfness. Her hair is elegance. Her hair is her age. Her bangs are uneven now. It’s part of accepting her precarious weird spot in an inbetween, half up half down haircut. Acceptance on her own aging, that there’s no empiric answer for what Marcille’s equivalent age is in elf or tallman or other, maybe just a ballpark if even that. Answers which are what she’s most desperate to know. What do you mean that student over there has got an astronomic result on her dungeoneum and what do you mean she doesn’t really care for how you did it? Falin who’s thus showing her another way to be, with less self-made pressure, that you can just go with the flow- that you can just… Be.

Her hair being all down and messy as a dungeon lord is part of making the characters and audience understand that Marcille is out of it, but… Like her barefootness there’s some flexibility it implies, for Marcille who’s so rigid on appearance. Accepting her hair to be messy, a sort of shedding of who she is even as she’s overdressed and trying so hard to look like something she doesn’t feel as.

That’s why her outfit makes her feel courageous. Because it makes her feel different from who she is otherwise, because it grants her a look she feels naked without, even with barefeet and messy hair. It’s externalizing how she’s been trying to hold it all together and all her confliction and her feelings and offering some catharsis, no more hiding herself, she’s a half-elf trying to do dark magic. Clean Marcille, clean clean Marcille— Overthinking the dressing, the superficial the aesthetic, without looking enough at the body it’s covering up, the laws of the world the ecosystem of the dungeon the opinions of her friends’— what’s standing right in front of her face, the underlying thing holding up the rest of what she’s trying to change, what’s truly important. She’s back to being like with meeting Falin, overfocusing on the details and the nitpicks and the theorics while oblivious to the slimes and the bats and the balance of mana in that small cave dungeon. She has the dress and the hat but as a whole she doesn’t look like a slay queen or a princess or a cool sorceress or even like her mother, she just looks like a mess. 

Ultimately after calming down she takes the hat off. She leaves behind the grip that her childhood trauma had on her and moves forward in the dress of adulthood, with maturity and emotional intelligence and logic to deal with her current situation instead of coping mechanisms and desperate grasps for control. And then when the dungeon lord becomes Laios her dress poofs, she’s in her very plain pajamas, plain Marcille, and it’s that Marcille who goes forward to help Laios save the world and defeat the demon. Hence why post-canon she starts dressing in similar dresses to her mother as well, and starts wearing more black. Black here is a color associated with her mother. She keeps her own touch and color here and there, like her red choker instead of a black one, but it’s a stark and sudden difference. She’s matured.

And her friends aren’t afraid to say it like it is and bring back her feet to the ground instead of up in the clouds of fantasy and power where she was, her feet back on the dirt of where they are right now instead of the theorics of "when" and "then" and "forever". She’s weird, she’s unique, in some ways she doesn’t fit in with any group anywhere, and that’s ok and she’s accepted that it doesn’t mean she can’t feel belonging and joy as herself with her flawed friends in a flawed world. After all they did stick with her even after seeing her whole tantrum and embarrassing breakdown makeover. Personally I do say, slay queen.

Her dungeon lord outfit is a coming of age outfit in a very literal way. A bridge between childhood and adulthood. We see her struggle metaphorically between the past and the future, moving on or holding onto trauma. The dress, from her mother, with cleavage and low cut sleeves and a lace gap going down to her stomach and a very short risqué skirt cut, represents maturity but it was very purposefully contrasted with the earmuffs, a childish piece of accessory associated with youth. This shows her mental state, battling with her emotions, wildly fluctuating between her academic put-together powerful self and the childish emotional outbursts the pressure is causing. Time moves on too fast but she’s not growing up fast enough to keep up or make the academic breakthroughs she wants— time is always running out and she’s both too young or too old she’s pulled in both directions and she can never be up to standards. It represents her struggle with her lifespan, her struggle to fit in, to know who she should be and what she should be doing. Considering this, it’s no wonder Marcille is someone who finds ecosystems and the cycle of life unappealing and unintuitive notions, because she has to carve her own space wherever she goes.

Conclusion

Her friends are laughing because she’s doing one of those over-the-top sexy costumes with a baby bonnet and both of those are extremes uncharacteristic of her and the whiplash of Marcille out of anyone in that weirds them out. They’d take plain old marcille in her pajamas over all-powerful dungeon lord Marcille in an epic revealing goth dress any day. Marcille with messy hair is crossing the line though someone braid it please.

Marcille had a flair for the dramatic, values the grand and the novel-like, big gestures and being swept away by knights. As was discussed in this post of mine and as will be covered in my Marcille & Chil arc analysis, fantasy is something she uses to make the world more digestible, less scary, more handleable. As such, I can totally see how a gown that makes her feel larger than she is, more important or, more narratively, like a protagonist, like a sorceress and a princess, and understood and validated in her mourning, would make her feel like she can tackle things more, better in her own skin, or perhaps, giving into the delusions ever so more. She needs a dose of reality and dw her party (chilchuck) will come to give out that.

Dunmeshi prones the importance of balance for both a healthy body and a healthy mind and hope & fantasy vs logic & reality aka optimist idealism and cynical pessimism are one side of that.

"Fumi, do you really think Kui intended all of this?" To a good degree I wouldn’t be surprised, but ultimately that’s not what matters bc this is still compelling cultural context and themes to read into the text, like I mentioned at the start. Diversity of interpretations is good!! It’s a sign of a deeply rich story! I think in 15 years we’ll still have essays being written on Dungeon Meshi and I think that’s incredible and no small feat.

[collineato]

now whats he doin all that for

[ratsfanaccount]

Im going to punt this animal into space on facebook live

[rslashrats]

really funny when balloon dogs have a very long tail. maximum stinger action

[rakurairagnarok]

A Single Tear

Micheal was giddy with excitement as he opened the package. A new weird challenge had been going around in which you wear a shirt which allegedly makes you grow until you tear it apart. The catch being that if it tears you turn into a dumb himbo, regardless of how smart you were before. Michael, however, had practiced by putting balloons under regular shirts and gotten amazing at taking them off just before they began to tear.

Taking the packaging off the shirt Michael was in awe with how nice the dark blue button up felt.

"This is some high quality shit." He looked at himself in the mirror and flexed his twiggy arms. He could do this. He had to, his life depended on it.

Carefully putting his arms through the sleeves, the fabric send a tingle through his body. He smirked. It was almost time. He took another look in the mirror. The shirt was huge on him, his hands barely reaching out of the sleeves.

Slowly, almost sensually, he began to button up the shirt. When he reached the 3rd highest button, he felt it. A rush of warmth, pain and most importantly pleasure. Michael smiled, it had begun.

He watched in the mirror as he saw himself rise up. The shirt that was previously ginormous on him began to fit him better each passing second. His torso rose to let the bottom of the shirt neatly fit above his trousers.

A smirk appeared on Michaels face. "It actually works." The bliss made him almost completely forget about the challenge and he quickly set up his phone to film.

He smiled at the camera as his previously slightly chubby face began to sharpen as a thick beard began to sprout on his newly squared jawline.

A soft stretching sound alarmed him but taking a good look at himseld he realised it was his skin stretching to accommodate the slowly growing muscles.

Suddenly a stiring in his pants made him realise that the growth was not limited to his torso.

"Fuckkk..." Michael moaned as his previous sub par member grew hard. Only when it kept growing past his previous maximum did he realise it was getting just as much attention from the shirt as the shelfing pecs that now adorned his chest did.

While his ass was ballooning out, Michael focussed his attention back to the shirt. The time was almost there. He didn't want to risk it so he had decided to stop a bit before his previous record.

However the moment he wanted to lift his arms to unbutton his shirt, his heart stopped.

An almost deafening tearing sound could be heard and Michael felt all the blood leave his face. He looked down and saw a slowly growing tear , next to the button onnhis chest.

"No... shit shit... fuuuuck.."

His mind was torn between pleasure and panic. He knew he had to get out of the shirt as fast as possible... but it felt so good. As the shirt continued tearing he felt his brain slowly break down. His memories together with his inhibitions got torn to pieces, and the previously meek student began feeling himself up more and more. Moving around only made it worse, as the shirt got torn up even further.

Flexing his now humongous arm tore the sleeve of his shirt, showing thick browned muscle underneath.

While flexing his other arm , Michael's legs began thickening , growing to support the absolute dumptruck and bulge he now possesed.

Not soon after his chest popped the already struggling button, bouncing in the steamy air of his bathroom.

Running a calloused hand over his bulbous pecs, he felt his core tighten, abs pushing to the surface.

As he did a double bicep pose his eyes fell on his still recording phone and he grinned. In a single movement he tore off the remaining tatters of his shirt, grinning from ear to ear as his pants quicky followed. Groping his new tool seductively at the camera his new persona completely took over. Gone was Michael the Grad student. Born was Mike the sweaty only fans creator, vers extraordinaire. His videos reaching a wide audience due to his sexual preference. To be precise as long as he was inclined hed use both his assets to pleasure any guy willing.

On the label of the package a small warning read : Extra unstretchy material, perfect for showing off your gains.

Rakurai INC. hopes you enjoy your purchase

[beautifulplaceofyouth]

SPECIAL SERVICE

Synopsis : A surprise visit from your childhood best friend is always a nice surprise but when the usual hair routine turns to spicy confession, all the bets are off. Pairing : Yandere! Obsessed!Caleb x Reader (both red flags) Genre : Childhood friends to lovers!au Word count : 13k (Oneshot) Warnings : 18+ Fluff which turns into a smut, Caleb is Yandere and literally obsessed with you and you both have secret feelings for each other, the love confession is a little angsty and full of jealously, Caleb longs for you so much that it's hard to resist you, you fear of losing him the second time makes you admit your true feelings, reader a little crybaby at first, inexperienced reader!first time, pet names (pipsqueak a few times, princess, baby, good girl), praise kink, french kissing, Caleb uses gravity evol for an apple, female!receiving, male!receiving, big size cock, raw unprotected penetration(reader on the pill), creampie, sweet aftercare in the shower and just both of them being red flags. a/n : So...I've been obsessed with love and deepspace game lately and especially with Caleb. Sorry not sorry, I don't regret writing this.

The insistent rapping at my bathroom door nearly sent me into cardiac arrest. I’m pretty sure I levitated a good inch off the shower floor, clutching my soapy chest like I was auditioning for a dramatic opera.

I wrestled the tap to submission, silencing the watery cascade that threatened to drown out any potential sounds from the other side. My heart hammered against my ribs, performing a frantic drum solo. Was it a burglar? Xavier? Or worse...A wanderer?

I shook off the last thought immediately because then my hunter watch would have alerted me of any energy fluctuations.

Then, a voice, blessedly familiar, cut through the humid air, punctuated by another, slightly less aggressive, knock.

“Pipsqueak?”

A sigh, the kind that deflates a hot air balloon, escaped my lips. It was just Caleb. Only Caleb. As if "only Caleb" wasn't a phrase loaded with enough emotional baggage to sink the Titanic.

My childhood best friend, my confidante, my ride or die companion… and, of course, the unsuspecting subject of my deeply buried, highly inconvenient, and perpetually unrequited crush.

He, bless his oblivious heart, had no clue about the butterflies that staged a chaotic flash mob in my stomach every time he was near.

Lately, he’d become a major distraction. Calculus? Forget it. Literary analysis? Nope. All brainpower was currently dedicated to decoding Caleb’s every move, searching for hidden meanings where there were probably none.

“Caleb! Don’t scare me like that!” I yelled, trying to inject a healthy dose of irritation into my tone. “I’m showering!”

Even through the thick wooden door, I could hear the low rumble of his chuckle. It was a sound that usually sent a pleasant shiver down my spine, but right now, it was just adding to the general chaos in my nervous system.

“Sorry. Just wanted to know if you’re alive. I arrived like five minutes ago and no one answered the door.”

“You didn’t announce your arrival, so I didn’t know you were coming. It’s not my fault you had to wait,” I grumbled, knowing full well that I was being completely unreasonable. I probably should have left a note warning people I may be taking a shower.

And since I gave him my spare key, it wasn’t surprising to let him visit me unexpectedly.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Finish your shower and then come out. I’ll cook something in the meantime,” he said, and before I could shout my specific culinary desires (specifically, anything involving copious amounts of chocolate), his footsteps faded away in the direction of my kitchen. Dammit.

He always managed to preempt my sugary cravings.

Once I was fully de-grimed, a miniature steam engine puffing away, I vigorously toweled myself dry, wrapped myself in my comfiest, oversized loungewear (strategically chosen for maximum cuddle-ability), and ran a comb through my sopping hair.

No time for a hairdryer. I had a much better, and infinitely more attractive, alternative in mind.

Caleb.

He always dried my hair. It was a weird tradition we’d started years ago, involving gentle towel-drying, a scalp massage that bordered on the divine, and a level of comfortable intimacy that simultaneously filled me with bliss and existential dread.

And since he was here, in my apartment, radiating pure "boyfriend" vibes, I was going to exploit the situation to its fullest potential.

With a towel turban perched precariously on my head, I ventured into the kitchen, which now smelled like a symphony of deliciousness – herbs, spices, and something vaguely reminiscent of culinary magic.

A tall figure, all broad shoulders in a casual outfit of dark jeans, white T-shirt with some dark abstract art on it and a dark jacket on top, he was focused concentration, standing at the counter, expertly wielding a knife as he diced vegetables with the precision of a brain surgeon.

Hearing my hesitant footsteps, his head lifted, and that intense, almost intimidating, gaze softened the moment he saw me.

“Look at you. All cute and soft. Couldn’t you dry your hair before coming to see me? I know you missed me, but you’ll catch a cold that way,” he scolded gently, his lips twitching with amusement.

He always called me "cute and soft." Like I was some sort of fluffy bunny or a particularly appealing marshmallow.

I pouted, because pouting was apparently my default mode when dealing with Caleb, and padded closer to him. Once I was right behind him, practically glued to his back, I leaned over his shoulder, inhaling his woodsy scent, and peered at the cutting board. “What are you making for me?”

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through me. He tossed the knife aside and pointed to the cutting board, revealing a colorful medley of carrots, celery, and some apple slices already neatly cut into bite-sized pieces. He then grabbed a towel, meticulously dried his hands, and turned around. Before I could even think about taking a step back, he closed the distance between us, wrapped his arms around me, and pulled me close.

My heart decided to take up competitive speed racing. It was currently vying for first place in the “world’s fastest palpitations” category.

He hugged me tightly to his chest, burying his nose in my shoulder, almost like he was desperately trying to inhale my scent. It was a gesture that was simultaneously comforting and utterly, earth-shatteringly, devastatingly romantic.

“Caleb, what are you…” I started to ask, my voice a breathless whisper.

“I missed you. I haven’t seen you in a whole month! Let me have this,” he breathed, his words sending a wave of heat through me.

My heart gave up on the racing and decided to launch itself straight out of my chest. Slowly, tentatively, I hugged him back, my hands creeping up around his neck, my fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair.

“You’re being silly. It’s not like I’m gone. You have your duties in Skyhaven as a colonel, so don’t blame me if you have no time for me,” I pouted again, because apparently, I was now a professional pouter.

His hold on me tightened, and he let out a deep sigh that tickled my ear. “I always have time for you, but wanderers up there are causing more trouble, killing innocent people. I had to deal with them before I come visit you. So… did you miss me too?”

There was a soft hesitation in his last words; a vulnerability that made my heart clench painfully.

“Of course, I did.” The words were out before I could even think about editing them for maximum subtlety.

“You finally said it. Don’t regret it now.” There was a playful warning in his tone.

I smiled. Never.

Once we were separated, he looked at my hair with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Do you need me to do your hair, like always?”

I sheepishly smiled, feeling my cheeks flush with warmth. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and sending delightful shivers down my spine. “You really like to use me like a hairdresser,” he teased, grabbing my wrist and gently tugging me along.

He led me out of the kitchen and towards the living room.

After I sat on the couch, he patiently went to the bathroom to retrieve the hairdryer and then came back into the living room, wielding it like a weapon of mass seduction.

Sitting down beside me, he patted the spot between his outstretched legs, motioning towards the floor and looked up at me expectantly.

I raised an eyebrow. “There?”

“It’ll be easier that way. So don’t stall; sit,” he ordered, his voice laced with that authoritative "Colonel" tone that always made me weak in the knees. It was also the voice that could launch a thousand ships, or at the very least, convince me to perch uncomfortably on the floor.

Well, fine. If I had to sit between Caleb's legs, so be it. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make.

Grumbling, I grabbed a throw pillow for cushioning, plopping down with as much grace as a disgruntled cat. His thighs immediately radiated warmth against my sides as he leaned forward. Apparently, it was hair-drying time, and my wet locks were the enemy. He relieved me of the towel with startling efficiency.

“You’re ordering me around like I’m a fleet officer under your command,” I complained.

Honestly, the nerve of the man!

A sharp tug on my hair, delivered with playful force, snapped my head back. Upside down, I met his gaze, those mesmerizing turquoise eyes swirling with shades of purple. It was a look I couldn't quite decipher – a mix of amusement, exasperation, and something…else.

He leaned down, our breaths mingling like mischievous conspirators. “If you were a fleet officer,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “You couldn’t be this close to me.” A pause, and then, “I never offer to dry anyone’s hair like this, so give me some credit, won’t you?”

My breath hitched. I tried to formulate a witty retort, but my brain seemed to have taken a vacation. All coherent thought vanished when his hand slid down my throat, tilting my chin upward, his fingers gently grabbing my jaw.

“Did I make myself clear? You’re the only one who has this privilege,” he stated, his gaze intense.

My eyes fluttered closed as his free hand tangled in my hair, his fingertips making soothing circles on my scalp.

"Not fair," I whispered, leaning back until my head rested against his chest. The solid thump of his heartbeat was surprisingly comforting.

He kissed the crown of my head. "Nothing is fair when it comes to you," he murmured.

And just like that, the moment was over. He pulled away and, as if nothing had happened, began to comb my hair. The hot air from the dryer blasted strands in every direction, a chaotic ballet of frizz. I must have drifted off for a moment, because the next thing I knew, something was gently tapping my head.

I realized, with a jolt, that my cheek was resting against his thigh. Oh, the indignity!

“Did you fall asleep, princess?” His voice was soft, quiet, but laced with warmth and amusement. “I need to comb your hair, but I can’t do that if you use my leg as a pillow.”

He gently stroked my hair, and I resisted the urge to purr. Sleeping on Caleb's leg was infinitely better than being awake without Caleb's leg to sleep on.

“But it feels so nice,” I protested, my voice muffled against his jeans. My argument was compelling, I thought.

“I’m sure it does, but we’ll never get this done if you don’t lift your head,” he chuckled. It was a low, rumbling sound that vibrated right through me.

With a monumental effort, fueled by sheer stubbornness, I managed to lift my head. Only to have it drop back against his chest a microsecond later.

His fingers brushed my cheek. His voice, close to my face, was a delicious torture. “I’m happy to be your pillow, but you’ll fall asleep again soon. I’ll have to stop this five-star service then,” he warned.

My eyes snapped open. The thought of losing this…this experience was unbearable.

“No, please! Five more minutes, and then you’re free,” I pleaded, flashing him my most convincing puppy-dog eyes.

He shut his eyes and groaned. It was a sound of beautiful, glorious defeat. “You’re so lucky that I love you,” he admitted, his voice laced with exasperation and, dare I say, something more?

Before I could even process his words, he resumed combing my hair, adding in a scalp massage for good measure. The feeling was so gloriously, exquisitely good that a soft moan escaped my lips. I hadn't meant to make noise, but I was relaxed and it left my mouth before I could stop it.

Caleb stopped. I heard him exhale sharply, as if he were in pain, but he kept going anyway, his fingers working magic.

“What will your future boyfriend say if you keep asking me to do these things for you, huh? I’m sure he won’t be happy how much you love this,” he joked, but there was a definite edge to his voice. Interesting. Time for a little playful prodding, just to see how he’d react.

“That’s easy. You’ll be my boyfriend then,” I said casually, trying to sound completely nonchalant. Inside, however, my stomach was doing acrobatic flips of anxiety and, perhaps, a touch of hopeful anticipation.

His fingers stilled in my hair. His breath hitched for a fraction of a second, but he quickly composed himself. With his fingers, he tipped my head back to look him in the eyes.

“Don’t play games with me, princess. I take those jokes very seriously,” he warned. And then he did something I definitely wasn’t expecting, something that sent a jolt of electricity through my entire system.

He grazed his thumb across my lips, tracing their shape with excruciatingly slow precision. “If you start…” His voice was a husky whisper. “I’ll only bite back.”

My lips parted, and my tongue, traitorously, darted out to lick his thumb. I breathed heavily with each brush, each look, each gesture.

His eyes glinted, a dark fire igniting within them as he refocused on me. “You’re giving me strange ideas tonight, and I’m afraid you’ll regret it later.”

I shook my head. He was the one giving me strange ideas tonight, sending signals that were far from subtle. I’d never really thought he’d be like this, so forward, but somehow his gaze felt…familiar. He’d been looking at me with such intensity ever since he came back from the dead.

He’d been presumed dead, killed in explosion and then months later he was back. Like a stranger, he was different but still Caleb.

Those buried feelings had resurfaced from the moment we reunited, and I realized I could read him easier now. He wanted something more, and I could finally see it, openly, brazenly.

“What about you? Will you regret it?” I challenged, throwing down the gauntlet.

It was like flipping a switch.

One moment I was kneeling on the floor, the next I was sprawled on the couch, pinned beneath him. His face was feral, his eyes burning with an intensity that both thrilled and frightened me.

“What are you doing, pipsqueak? Are you trying to see me snap?” he growled, his voice tight with barely suppressed emotion.

I shuddered, a delicious shiver that ran all the way to my toes. “No. Just wanted to tell you the truth. I have no need for a boyfriend if I already have one,” I flashed a teasing smile. “You basically treat me like a princess all the time. We just didn’t put a label on it.”

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze searching mine. Then, he laughed.

An ominous feeling washed over me as those gorgeous lips curled into a dangerous smirk.

“A boyfriend, you say?” He laughed again as his eyes wandered down my body, igniting a wildfire within me. “Then, I guess, I have the privilege to do this, right?”

I frowned, suddenly uneasy. “What do you–”

My gasp cut off my words as he lifted my oversized nightshirt, his hot fingers skimming across my stomach, dangerously inching closer to my bare breast.

It was a strategic maneuver, designed to deprive me of oxygen and coherent thought. It was working. My brain was currently operating on a combination of adrenaline, panic, and a deep, undeniable longing that I was trying very hard to ignore.

"Caleb," I breathed, my voice barely audible. "What are you doing?"

His eyes met mine, and the intensity was back, stronger than ever. "Claiming what's mine, pipsqueak. And maybe proving a point or two along the way."

Before I could formulate a response, before I could decide whether I wanted to run screaming for the hills or surrender to the inevitable, he lowered his head, his lips brushing against my ear. "Consider this your official boyfriend initiation."

His other fist tightened around a lock of my hair, pulling gently as he inhaled deeply, like preparing for a battle. Then, Caleb claimed my mouth.

My blood pressure seemed to stall, alongside my breathing, as his lips met mine. All thought dissolved like smoke, replaced by the overwhelming sensation of his mouth parting mine, his tongue exploring with a hesitant boldness. The kiss was a chaotic blend of pain, longing, jealousy, and raw, barely-contained rage. It felt like he’d been hoarding these desires for me for a lifetime.

I was utterly immobilized, pinned beneath him, my wrists trapped above my head. All I could do was receive the onslaught of him. His taste, like crisp, slightly tart apples, flooded my senses, leaving me dizzy.

I'd always fantasized about this, but never truly believed it could happen. We were practically family, raised under the same roof. If Granny knew, rest her soul, she'd be utterly scandalized. Even I couldn't quite grasp the reality of this moment.

"Fuck," he breathed, finally breaking the kiss, dragging his mouth away after a long, heated moment.

He stared down at me, his eyes almost crazed with a possessiveness I’d desperately tried to ignore for months, but it was undeniably there. It was as if he'd been waiting his entire life for this. To be honest, I was feeling the same.

His hand moved to the curve of my jaw, his thumb tracing the outline of my swollen, red-kissed lips. "Do you regret it now?" His voice was gruff, almost rough.

I pulled a shaky breath and shook my head. "No."

He locked his gaze on mine, his eyes burning with an intensity that made my skin prickle. The longer he watched me, the faster I flushed, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable under his scrutinizing attention.

When the silence stretched, an unfamiliar anger flared within me. I strained against his hold, trying to push him away. "What are you doing?" I struggled to regain control, using anger as a shield against the raw vulnerability I felt. Was he playing some kind of game? Was this a test?

He tilted his head, unfazed by my resistance, still firmly pinning me down. A slow, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "What am I doing? I'm trying to read you."

"What do you mean?"

He leaned down, his fingers tightening on my jaw, his breath hot against my lips. "Are you not resisting because you want me, or because you have no choice but to obey since I forced myself on you?"

I furrowed my eyebrows, confused and hurt. "You're not making sense. Why would I just obey you? Do you think I'm that easy to control?" I hissed, leaning forward, his lips ghosting against mine.

I felt him grin, his hold on my jaw tightening just slightly. "So…are you saying you like me?"

I swallowed, the question suddenly thick in the air. "And what if I do?"

His eyes darkened, his breath quickening. "Since when?"

I averted my eyes, a wave of shame washing over me. But he wouldn't allow me to retreat, tapping my cheek with his thumb, growling softly. "Eyes only on me."

I met his gaze, the honesty of the moment demanding it. "Well…always," I admitted, the word hanging in the air between us.

He clenched his jaw, mulling over my confession, his gaze drifting somewhere above my head as he struggled to compose himself. His breathing deepened, steadying. When he regained control, he locked his gaze on mine once more.

"Always? Even when you received love letters from other guys? When you pretended you wanted to go on dates with them too?" He spat, the words laced with jealousy and anger, but I didn't flinch.

"What about you? You've always been the popular one. What about all those gifts and love letters you always piled up in your room? There was plenty of proof that you had your share of secret admirers," I countered, my own anger rising to meet his.

His jaw ticked. "Yes, but it doesn't mean I dated any of them. I accepted those gifts because they were snacks, and you love snacks. That's why I didn't reject them. I gave them to you. And those love letters? I didn't even read them. I always threw them away, but the mail was always overflowing. Maybe I missed some," he reminded me. "And I promised you that I wouldn't get a girlfriend as long as I had you by my side. I didn't lie to you."

“I never seriously considered the other boys too, never wanted to go on dates with them, Caleb. I just…needed you to see me as a woman. Not just a kid who needs protection all the time,” I confessed.

My heart had always belonged to Caleb, and since he never revealed or even hinted at his feelings, I'd resorted to trying to make him jealous.

Caleb simply stared at me, then let out a short, disbelieving chuckle, covering his mouth with his hand. "You succeeded then. I wanted to kill every single person who even looked at you that way."

"Caleb…"

"No, let me finish," he interrupted.

He shifted, his weight still pinning me, but his grip loosening slightly. "I was a coward, I admit it. Afraid of ruining what we had, afraid of rejection. Years we wasted, playing stupid games, both of us too stubborn to admit the truth." He looked down at me, his expression softening. "So, pipsqueak, let's get this straight. You're mine. Always have been, always will be. And I'm yours, whether you like it or not."

He paused, searching my eyes. "But... I shouldn't have forced that kiss on you. I let my jealousy and frustration get the better of me. I wanted you so badly that it clouded my judgment. I'm sorry." His apology was gruff, but sincere.

I swallowed, the fight draining out of me.

"It...it's okay," I managed, even though a part of me still felt a little shaken. "But no more forcing. And no more games."

He nodded, a flicker of a smile reaching his eyes. "Agreed. No more games." He leaned down, his forehead resting against mine. "So, where do we go from here?"

I took a shaky breath, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Caleb, the boy I'd secretly loved forever, my closest friend, actually felt the same way. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

"I...I don't know," I admitted. "We've been living in the same house as practically family for years. This is going to be complicated."

"Complicated is an understatement," he chuckled softly. "But worth it, right?" He lifted his head, looking at me expectantly.

I met his gaze, and this time, the intensity didn't feel threatening. It felt...right. "Worth it," I confirmed, a small smile spreading across my own lips.

"Good." He moved, finally releasing my wrists and shifting his weight off me. He didn't stand, though, remaining close, kneeling beside me.

He reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear,” So, official boyfriend initiation round two?" he asked, his voice a low murmur. "This time, with consent?"

I laughed softly, the tension finally easing. "Maybe. But you're going to have to work for it."

He grinned, a genuine, mischievous smile that made my heart skip a beat. "Oh, I intend to." He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above mine. "Consider this my official courting process, pipsqueak."

His kiss was a brand, searing into my soul, and this time, I met it head-on. The raw power emanating from him, coupled with the intoxicating scent that clung to his skin, spun me into a dizzying vortex of pure, unadulterated lust. His right arm, a relentless band of steel beneath a deceptive layer of flesh, snaked its way up my body, a possessive claim against my skin. The fabric of my shirt became an unbearable barrier, a tormenting tease in the face of such primal need. And then, he was there, his quest fulfilled. His hand, long and slender, yet possessing an undeniable strength, cupped my bare breast. His fingers kneaded, squeezed with a confident possessiveness that stole my breath, my gasp swallowed by his hungry mouth.

He broke away, and the sight that greeted me was like staring into the heart of a storm. His eyes, pools of liquid darkness, almost swallowed the amethyst depths within. A flush crawled across his cheekbones, a testament to the fire raging within him, mirroring the inferno consuming me. I struggled to draw a breath, my lungs starved for air, yet desperate to be filled with him.

His gaze raked over me, possessive and intense. He seemed drunk on the sight of me, pliant, willing, utterly and completely beneath his control. The yearning that burned in those dark eyes sent my heart into a frenzied rhythm, a frantic drumbeat against my ribs.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated against my skin. He leaned closer, his lips tracing a slow, deliberate path from my jawline to my temple, each touch a spark igniting a thousand desires. He inhaled deeply, stealing my scent as if it were the most precious thing in the world. “Are you mine?”

I could only nod, words failing me, lost in the overwhelming tide of sensation. His touch on my waist, beneath the hem of my shirt, sent shivers dancing across my skin. The cool, smooth surface of his mechanical arm, perfectly disguised as flesh, was a stark contrast to the heat he ignited within me.

“Say the words, princess,” he pleaded, his voice thick with a desperate longing that resonated deep within my soul. He buried his face in my hair, his breath warm against my ear, inhaling my scent as if trying to imprint me onto his very being.

“I’m yours, Caleb,” I whispered, the words a fragile offering, yet charged with a truth that grew stronger with each passing moment. Being with him had etched those words into my core.

He exhaled sharply, a sound that spoke of relief, of triumph, of a desperate need fulfilled. “God. She’s mine,” he breathed, the words a possessive mantra that sent a painful tug through my heart. It was as if he needed to hear it aloud, to confirm the reality of the moment, to assure himself that I, completely and irrevocably, belonged to him, and that this wasn't a figment of his desire.

His left arm, the one of flesh and blood, reached for me, his touch tentative at first, then growing bolder, more demanding. His fingers traced the delicate curve of my jaw, the sensitive skin of my neck, each caress a deliberate exploration, a slow, tantalizing torture.

I shivered, a delicious tremor that betrayed the depth of my longing. He knew me so well, knew exactly where to touch, how to tease, how to unravel me with a single glance. He held the keys to my desires, and he wielded them with a masterful precision.

The living room, usually a sanctuary of soft colors and comforting textures, was transformed into a battleground of desires, a space charged with unspoken longing. The air crackled with an energy that threatened to consume us both.

I arched against him, my fingers digging into his back, my nails tracing patterns on his clothed spine. I craved the feel of his skin against mine, the raw intensity of his touch, the unyielding heat of his body pressed against mine.

I wanted him, needed him, craved the feeling of his weight, the sensation of being crushed beneath his power, consumed by his presence. I wanted to lose myself in him, to surrender completely to the burning hunger that gnawed at my insides.

He obliged, pressing me deeper into the cushions, his body a hard, unyielding force against my softer curves. I gasped, the air catching in my throat as he shifted, settling his weight more fully against me.

“Do you want me, baby?” He rasped, his voice rough with barely contained desire. His fingers tightened on my hips, a possessive squeeze that sent a jolt of electricity through my veins.

“Yes,” I didn’t hesitate, the word torn from my lips, an honest declaration of the yearning consuming me.

“I’m glad you came back to me. Whether by accident or fate, you’re still here with me,” he murmured, his voice laced with a vulnerability that pierced my heart. He closed his eyes, his forehead pressed against mine, savoring our close proximity.

The words hit me deep, a wave of emotion washing over me. His longing was so raw, so palpable, that tears welled in my eyes. It felt like a wound, a deep, unhealed ache in his heart, and in that moment, I felt it too.

His love was a suffocating blanket, a weight I wasn't sure I could bear. Looking into his eyes, now filled with concern, the reflection of my own tears mirrored back at me, the truth of his feelings slammed into me with the force of a physical blow.

"Why… why are you crying?" he asked, his voice laced with a tenderness that only amplified the ache in my chest.

I couldn't articulate the whirlwind of emotions tearing me apart. The grief of a potential future stolen, the realization of a love I had been blind to, the sheer, overwhelming relief of him being here, alive, in my arms. All I could do was cling to him, burying my face in the crook of his neck, the sobs wracking my body. The thought of a world without him, a world where I never knew the depth of his feelings, was unbearable.

His arms tightened around me, a comforting, possessive hold. His hand found its way to my hair, stroking it in a soothing rhythm as we lay entwined on the couch.

"Princess…" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, almost a question. He seemed to be searching for the right words, lost in the labyrinth of his own feelings.

"I love you. I love you so much," I choked out, the words tumbling from my lips like a desperate plea. His breath hitched, a sharp intake of air that spoke volumes. I felt the tremor that ran through his body, a tangible manifestation of the shock and disbelief that gripped him. He burrowed his nose into my hair, inhaling deeply, as if trying to absorb my very essence.

"My love…" he breathed, the words barely audible, a whispered prayer.

I could feel the frantic beat of his heart against my own, a frantic drumbeat mirroring the turmoil within him. The words he had longed to hear, the affirmation he had dared not dream of, were finally spoken, hanging in the air between us like a fragile, precious thing. He must be feeling like he was in a dream he desperately didn’t want to wake up from.

She's finally with me. She loves me. She's mine.

The words echoed in his mind, a mantra of disbelief and desperate hope. Was this real? Or was it a cruel jest of fate, a fleeting illusion destined to shatter and leave him with nothing but the bitter taste of what could have been?

His mouth crashed against mine, a kiss born not of tenderness or affection, but of raw, unadulterated need. A searing, desperate kiss that stole my breath and left me reeling. It was a kiss that demanded, that consumed, that threatened to obliterate everything in its path. There was no gentleness, no pretense of courtly love. Only a primal hunger, a desperate yearning for connection that had been denied for far too long.

All the pain, the doubts, the anxieties, were momentarily eclipsed by this overwhelming need. This desperate longing for something real, something tangible, something to hold onto in the face of the darkness that had threatened to consume us.

Clothes became an unbearable constraint, a barrier to the intimacy we both craved. They were discarded with a frantic urgency, a desperate shedding of inhibitions and restraints. Buttons popped, zippers screeched, fabric tore, each sound a testament to the escalating frenzy that gripped us. The cool air kissed my skin, heightening my awareness, making every nerve ending sing with anticipation, anticipation for what was about to come.

The warmth of his skin against mine was intoxicating. His body, lean and muscular, was a masterpiece of raw power and sculpted grace. I traced a path from his face, down the strong column of his throat, across his defined collarbone, and over the hard planes of his chest. His abs were a testament to his discipline, a source of envy for men and a source of swooning pleasure for women.

His broad shoulders stretched like mountains, blocking my view of everything but him. He was my world, my focus, my everything in that moment. The only other thing that caught my eye was the silver chain I had gifted him, still around his neck, the dog tags rising and falling in rhythm with his breathing, a constant reminder of the man beneath the warrior.

I didn’t dare to look lower. Not yet. But I could feel his hardness pressing against my thigh, a silent promise of the pleasure to come. The anticipation was a delicious torment, a burning ache that demanded to be quenched.

Caleb's eyes burned into mine, a dark, hungry gaze that promised both ecstasy and oblivion. There was a possessiveness in his eyes, a fierce protectiveness that sent shivers down my spine.

"God," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "You're so fucking stunning. More so than I imagined while feeling the guilt over the years, thinking of you that way." He swallowed hard, his fingers brushing against my nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. I swallowed my moan of pleasure and he continues, "I thought… I would die never knowing this feeling."

I leaned in, kissing his lips softly, letting my breath mingle with his. "Yet, I'm here. In front of you. With you as you touch me like you want me to," I whispered against his mouth. His grip tightened, his fingers digging into my skin in a possessive claim.

He wanted to possess you, body and soul, to claim you as his own, to erase any trace of the world beyond your shared desire. He wanted to mark you, brand you, make you his in a way that transcended the physical. He wanted to lose himself in you, to forget the pain, the heartache, the years of longing. He only wanted to be in this moment, with you, forever. The darkness can engulf you both later.

“You’re my princess, aren’t you?”

“Yours,” I breathed, the single word a confession, a surrender. It was the truth, stark and undeniable. Every cell in my body vibrated with the knowledge that I belonged to him, Caleb. Completely and irrevocably. And in that moment, shrouded in shadows and consumed by a desire that felt both dangerous and divine, I didn't want to be anything else. The idea of belonging to someone had always seemed like a prison, a cage built of expectations and limitations. But with Caleb, it was different. It was a liberation, a feeling of being truly seen, truly known, and accepted – even celebrated – for the darkness that resided within me.

His teasing grin returned, that familiar curve of his lips that always sent a swarm of butterflies erupting in my stomach. It was a smile that held a universe of promises, of shared secrets and unspoken desires.

"You're awfully sweet right now. Be careful," he warned, his voice laced with amusement, a hint of something possessive lurking beneath the surface.

I flushed crimson, unable to meet his intense gaze. I knew he was teasing me, but the effect was undeniable. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rhythm echoing the anticipation that pulsed through my veins.

His eyes, dark and fathomless, raked over my body, lingering on every curve and hollow. It was a slow, deliberate appraisal that made my skin prickle with awareness. He knelt back on his haunches, muscles flexing beneath the dark fabric of his briefs. That's when I noticed it – the hard ridge straining against his underwear, a blatant display of his desire. His cock.

It was huge. Unapologetically, undeniably huge. The outline was unmistakable, a testament to the raw power he possessed, a power he wielded with such effortless control. My gaze snagged on it, drawn by an invisible force.

As if sensing where my attention lay, my lips parted, breath catching in my throat as Caleb tugged his briefs down, freeing his shaft from its confinement. It sprang forth, a dark, throbbing entity slapping against his abdomen, a pearl of pre-cum already glistening at the head, a tantalizing invitation.

The curve of the tip was perfect, sculpted like some forbidden fruit, promising a pleasure that transcended the ordinary. I imagined the feel of it, the weight of it, the way it would fill me, stretch me, consume me. I couldn’t seem to tear my gaze away, mesmerized by its potent allure.

"Like what you see?" he smirked, his voice a low, guttural rumble that vibrated through me. I flushed again, a wave of heat washing over me. I was caught, my desire laid bare for him to see, and I didn't know what to say. The deep chuckle that rumbled in his chest was my only response, a sound that sent shivers down my spine.

He wrapped his long fingers around his cock, giving it slow, deliberate strokes as I watched, completely enthralled. But then, his eyes shifted, a new glint in their depths, and his hand moved away from his cock.

Without waiting for an answer, his gaze drifted to the fruit bowl on the nearby coffee table. It was a still life of vibrant colors and enticing scents – oranges, bananas, a cluster of grapes. But my eyes were drawn to the apple, a single, perfect specimen, red like a ruby, nestled amongst the other fruits. It seemed to pulse with a life of its own, drawing me in with its irresistible allure.

Then, as if by magic, it happened. The apple lifted from the bowl, floating effortlessly through the air, guided by an unseen force. My breath caught in my throat, a gasp of disbelief escaping my lips. It was Caleb's power, the gravity evolution he controlled with such ease. Usually, it was a source of deadly fascination and awe, a display of his immense strength. But now, in this moment, it felt different. It felt like a tool of unbridled obsession, a way for him to exert his control over me in the most intimate and tantalizing way.

He manipulated the apple's trajectory with a subtle flick of his wrist, drawing it closer, closer, until it hovered just above my mouth. He met my gaze, his eyes now burning with an intensity that threatened to consume me.

"Open," he commanded, his voice a husky whisper that sent shivers dancing across my skin.

I obeyed, my lips parting slightly, anticipation building within me like a fire. The apple descended, the smooth skin brushing against my lips, the sweet scent filling my nostrils. It was a heady mix of innocence and temptation, a perfect representation of the man who controlled it. He guided it into my mouth, the cool, crisp flesh a stark contrast to the burning heat that coursed through my veins.

I bit down, the juice exploding on my tongue, the sweetness a momentary distraction from the inferno that raged within. The taste was almost cloying, but I couldn't pull away, couldn't break the connection he had forged between us.

“Good girl,” he murmured, the praise hitting me like a jolt of electricity. My core tightened, a wave of heat flooding my loins. The simple words, spoken in that low, possessive tone, were enough to shatter the last vestiges of my control.

He watched me, his eyes filled with a predatory gleam, a hunger that mirrored my own. His hand, warm and calloused, slid between my legs, fingers finding the wet heat that awaited him. I gasped at his first touch, the pleasure intense, almost unbearable. He started stroking me, teasing me, bringing me to the edge of madness with his relentless touch. The apple remained in my mouth, a tantalizing object of both pleasure and control, a constant reminder of his power over me.

His eyes flickered downward, watching as his fingers parted my folds like the petals of a flower. I was slick, so incredibly slick, my body betraying me with its desperate need. I started gushing around his fingers, a clear testament to the pleasure he was inflicting.

"Beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. He looked back at me, seeing my pleasure-filled face, wanting to capture every expression, every flicker of emotion that crossed my features. The shyness that usually clung to me was gone, banished by the intensity of the moment. I was raw, exposed, completely vulnerable to his gaze. "So responsive. Who would have thought?" He grinned, a flash of white teeth in the dim light.

The words were playful, a teasing caress, but beneath the surface, I sensed a possessiveness that made my breath catch in my throat. This wasn't the Caleb I thought I knew, the charming, considerate man who had always spoiled me or taken care of me. This was something darker, something untamed, and a part of me, the part that craved the forbidden, was desperately curious.

"Last chance. Tell me to stop," he whispered, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "Tell me you don't want this."

The words hung in the air, a challenge, a dare. But I couldn't. I was paralyzed, caught between fear and a desire so potent it threatened to consume me. I wanted to say no, to regain control, but the word died in my throat. His touch was doing things to my body which never happened to me before.

He seemed to take my silence as consent. While his warm fingers stroked my folds, his other hand moved lower, tracing the line of my ribs, the curve of my hips, igniting a firestorm in their wake. I gasped, arching into his touch, my body betraying my wavering resolve. He chuckled, a low, guttural sound that sent shivers down my spine.

"That's what I thought," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

I closed my eyes, surrendering to the moment, allowing him to dictate the pace.

"Open your eyes, pipsqueak," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "I want to see you when I touch you."

The command sent a shiver racing down my spine, a delicious blend of fear and excitement. He wanted to witness my surrender, to see the effect he had on me, to claim me utterly and completely with his gaze. And I, a willing captive, obeyed. My eyelids fluttered open, my gaze locking with his intense amethyst eyes, pools of simmering passion that threatened to drown me in their depths.

He was a study in contrasts, a beautiful paradox. His features were sharp and angular, hinting at a dangerous edge, yet softened by the curve of his lips and the intensity of his gaze. His skin, tanned and taut, stretched over muscles honed to perfection.

I couldn't hold it in any longer. The apple which was in my mouth, fell out and it rolled down to the floor with a thud. The sudden climax hit me like a tidal wave, a surge of pure, unadulterated pleasure that ripped through my body, leaving me gasping and breathless. He had sunk two fingers inside me, stroking me deep and good, pushing me over the edge with his relentless expertise.

My body wasn’t in control anymore. It was fully his to manipulate, to worship, to break if he so desired. And in that moment, I knew I would let him. I would surrender everything, every last shred of resistance, to the man who held my heart captive in his dark and beautiful hands. I was his princess, his to command, his to possess, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

The aftermath left me weak and trembling, my body humming with residual energy. I laid there, spent, and Caleb leaned over me, his lips meeting mine in a soft, tender kiss that belied the intensity of what we had just shared.

"You look beautiful when you come," he murmured against my lips, his voice thick with emotion.

I could only blush and bite my lip as he watched, the heat rising in my cheeks. It was mortifying, to be so exposed, so vulnerable, yet at the same time, there was a thrilling liberation in casting off my inhibitions for him. He watched as my teeth sank into my plush bottom lip, the small act of self-inflicted pain arousing something primal within me.

His nostrils flared, and he knelt back, settling into a kneeling position between my legs, his briefs still pulled down, leaving only his magnificent erection exposed. The sight of him, so raw and uninhibited, sent another shiver of desire through me.

He was impatient, though. Not wanting distractions, my gasp is loud when he takes the fabric and tears it in two with his bare hands, his underwear now destroyed. The sound ripped through the air, a primal declaration of his need, and it echoed within me, setting my nerves on fire. I hadn't expected this level of intensity, this blatant disregard for anything but the moment.

"Caleb, what-" I started, my voice a breathless whisper but me cut me off.

"I need you," he rasped, the words rough and guttural, like a caged beast desperate for release but I don't let him touch me again.

I push against his bare chest, looking up at him as his eyes furrow. Confusion, and what might be hurt, flickered across his features, but I steeled myself, pushing past the guilt that threatened to overwhelm me. This was my moment, my chance to reciprocate, to explore the depths of our desire on my own terms.

"It's my time to touch you," I said, the words trembling slightly in the air.

His lips parted, his surprise for a second almost making me giggle. It was a small victory, a brief glimpse of the power I held over him. But I swallowed my nerves down when I watched him gulp, his fisted hands at his sides clenching.

He was so powerful, so in control, yet in this moment, I held the reins. The realization sent a thrill through me, a sense of empowerment I had never experienced before.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Yes," I replied, my voice firm, resolute.

His amethyst eyes darkened then, blazing with an intensity that both thrilled and intimidated me. His legs spread wider in that same kneeling position on his heels, making him even more fiercer, more imposing. 

"Then look," he commanded, his voice a low rumble.

I looked down, my gaze drawn to the magnificent display of his masculinity.

"See what you do to me?" He whispered, noticing my eyes wandering over every inch of his exposed skin. He reached down, gently guiding my attention towards his obvious arousal. "Only you can make me this hard." His voice was rough with desire. "You want to touch it?"

He knew the answer before I even spoke. He knew the hunger that gnawed within me, the desperate yearning to explore the contours of his body, to taste the forbidden fruit of his desire. But still, he asked, giving me the choice, acknowledging my agency.

“You should know that I have never…” I trailed off, my voice laced with uncertainty.

"I know," he said softly, gently brushing my hair away from my face. "You're innocent... and that makes me want you even more." His hand guided mine to gently touch him. "Just... explore, if you want. No pressure." His breath caught slightly at my tentative touch, a visible reaction to my hesitant caress.

The weight and heat of him in my hand was startling, unfamiliar, but undeniably intoxicating. I felt a surge of power, knowing that I, with a simple touch, could elicit such a strong reaction from this powerful, dominant man.

I sit up, emboldened by his invitation, and wrap my hand around him.

His head tilted back slightly as my hand made contact. A hesitant touch, almost shy, as my fingers curled around his length. He was thick, unbelievably so, dwarfing my small hand. My fingers barely managed to encircle him once. His violet eyes, usually alight with playful mischief, were now dark pools, fixed on my face. He watched every flicker of emotion, every subtle change in my expression, noting the widening of my eyes, the slight parting of my lips. He saw my surprise, my innocent curiosity, and something else… a budding desire mirrored his own.

He was a creature of raw power, a wild animal barely leashed. The purple of his eyes was clouded with a potent desire that both thrilled and intimidated me. His jaw was clenched tight, the muscles working with a barely suppressed intensity. His abs, usually hidden beneath tailored shirts or his uniform, rippled with each heavy breath he drew, a testament to his barely contained energy. He looked as though he wanted to devour me, to pull me onto his lap in a possessive claim, wrapping his large arms around me, never letting go. A low, guttural sound rumbled from his chest.

"More," he commanded, the single word laced with a desperate need that sent shivers down my spine.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. The air in the room seemed to thicken, charged with an electricity that crackled between us.

My hand moved, exploring the length of him with newfound confidence, my fingers tracing the rigid contours. His hips twitched forward instinctively, a silent plea for deeper contact. A slick pre-come, pearly and thick, leaked out, coating my hand in a warm, viscous film. He was already so close to the edge, the precipice of his control, my innocent touches pushing him closer to the brink. He reached down, his large hand engulfing mine, his fingers strong and sure as he guided me in slow, deliberate strokes.

"Just like that..." he breathed, the words a ragged sigh against the heavy air.

"Like that?" I echoed, my voice barely a whisper, laced with uncertainty and a growing fascination.

His abs clenched and unclenched rhythmically as I followed his lead, stroking him slowly, deliberately, feeling the heat and the tension that vibrated beneath my touch. His face was a mask of exquisite torment, contorted with a pleasure that seemed almost painful. His purple eyes rolled back slightly, revealing the whites, as though he were lost in a world of pure sensation.

He spread his legs wider, granting me better access, offering himself to my touch with a primal abandon. "Yes... just like that," he groaned, his voice thick with barely suppressed passion.

Somehow, I had never imagined this. Never envisioned him like this, so raw, so vulnerable, yet so overwhelmingly powerful. The sight of him, teetering on the edge of control, ignited a fire within me, a desire to push him further, to watch him surrender completely to the pleasure I was now wielding. The longer I stared at him in this moment, the more I wanted him to lose control. To shatter the carefully constructed facade of composure and reveal the wild, untamed beast that lurked beneath.

Caleb’s breathing grew heavier, ragged gasps that filled the suddenly silent room. With each stroke of my hand, his control seemed to slip further, his body arching in response to the escalating pleasure. He was utterly lost in the sensation, his eyes glazed over, his jaw tight, the only evidence of the iron will he usually possessed. Then, with a low, guttural growl that resonated deep within my soul, he suddenly seized my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong, halting my movements.

"Enough..." he rasped, his voice strained, his eyes burning into mine. "Enough, or I'm going to cum right here."

"Sorry…" The word tumbled out, a reflexive apology born of inexperience and a fear of overstepping.

"Baby, don't apologize," he chuckled softly, the sound a low rumble in his chest.

He released my wrist, his touch lingering for a moment before he let go completely. I hesitated for only a moment before resuming my ministrations, slowly pumping my hand over his engorged length. He watched my face with an intensity that made my heart pound, studying my innocent features, the slight parting of my lips, the small hand wrapped around his impressive length. His hips moved slightly forward, meeting my touch with a subtle urgency. He was teetering on the edge again, his self-control hanging by a thread.

"It's so big…" The words escaped my lips before I could stop them, a simple, honest observation that seemed to electrify the air between us.

His eyes darkened at my words, the violet transforming into a deep, almost black, purple. A slow smile spread across his face, revealing a flash of white teeth. He loved how innocent and sweet I was, even when I was touching him like this, when I held his power in my hand.

He reached down, his large hand enveloping mine once more, his fingers interlacing with mine, trapping my hand against his throbbing flesh. He began to move my hand faster, his hips thrusting up to meet my touch with a desperate need. "And it's all yours," he murmured, the words a husky promise whispered against my ear.

"Mine?" The question was barely audible, a breathless gasp of surprise and burgeoning desire.

I licked my lips, suddenly parched, the taste of him lingering on my tongue. Before he could anticipate my intentions, before he could stop me, I sat up, knelt on all fours, and leaned down, my breath warm and moist against his skin. With a slow, deliberate movement, I traced the head of his erection with the tip of my tongue.

Caleb let out a loud a surprised groan, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure, as my tongue made contact. He buried his hands in my hair, his fingers threading through the strands, holding me gently but firmly against him as I repeated the action, my innocent exploration sending shockwaves of pleasure through his entire body. "Fuck, baby..." he groaned, the words torn from his throat.

He moved then, his hips jerking forward, forcing his length deeper into my mouth as I licked and teased him with my tongue. He was so close to the edge, his control shattering with each passing second.

The innocent depravity of my touch, the sight of my small mouth wrapped around his engorged flesh, pushed him closer and closer to the precipice. He started to thrust gently, his hands tangled in my hair, guiding me, controlling the pace and depth of my ministrations. "Suck me, baby…" he commanded, the words a desperate plea and an undeniable command.

Caleb looked down at me, his amethyst eyes dark and intense, devouring me with his gaze as he watched me struggle to accommodate his size. The sight of my eyes watering, my body trembling, the slight gagging sound as I took him deeper, only fueled his desire, pushing him closer to the edge of oblivion. He wiped away the tears that streamed down my face with his thumbs, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the raw intensity of his movements.

"You're doing so well, princess…" he murmured, his voice a husky encouragement.

He groaned loudly, a sound that bordered on pain, as I tightened my lips around him, my tears spilling down my cheeks, a testament to my effort and his overwhelming size. He was so close, my mouth and the sight of my tears pushing him over the edge. With a final, guttural cry, he thrust forward, his body arching, and he came, his hot seed erupting in shuddering waves, spilling into my mouth.

"Swallow it," he commanded, his voice raw and desperate.

Without hesitation, I obeyed, my throat working as I swallowed every drop, accepting his essence, taking him fully into myself. He watched, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath, his body trembling in the aftermath of the intense release. He wiped away the remaining tears from my face, his touch gentle, almost reverent, his mind reeling from the experience. He lifted me up into his lap, cradling me against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around me as though he never wanted to let me go.

"My sweet baby, you took it all…" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"W…was it good?" I whispered, my voice shaky, my body trembling in the aftermath of the intense encounter, my heart pounding in my chest as I waited for his response.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through my body. "Good? Princess, it was beyond good. It was…perfect." He tightened his grip on me, burying his face in my hair. "You're an amazing little thing, do you know that?"

His words were like a drug, soothing the raw edges of my fear, fueling the part of me that craved his attention. I wanted to believe him, to bask in the warmth of his praise, but a nagging doubt lingered in the back of my mind. Was it genuine, or was it just another manipulation, another way to keep me under his control?

He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark pools, unreadable and intense. "I can't wait to have you, princess," he said, his voice a low growl. "I want to feel you wrapped around me, every inch of you."

A thrill of anticipation shot through me, mingled with a healthy dose of apprehension.

It mingled, however, with a healthy dose of apprehension, a stark reminder of the power he held over me, the potential for both exquisite pleasure and devastating pain. The reality of his size, his sheer physicality, crashed back into my consciousness.

"Can we even fit?" The question blurted out before I could censor it, a nervous, almost comical query that shattered the carefully constructed tension. "You're...big." The word hung in the air, a testament to the undeniable scale of him, a daunting prospect that simultaneously terrified and intrigued me.

A slow, predatory smile stretched across his face, a silent promise of the pleasure – and the challenge – that awaited. "Oh, baby," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement and a hint of something more primal. "We'll fit. I promise you, we'll make it fit." He shifted his weight, subtly pressing against me, a deliberate provocation that sent a renewed wave of heat surging through my veins.

He reached down, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of my hip, sending shivers dancing across my skin. "Don't underestimate my… ingenuity," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. "I know how to make things… accommodate." The double entendre was unmistakable, a blatant and deliciously wicked tease that left me breathless.

He continued his tantalizing exploration, his fingers moving lower, tracing the line of my thigh with agonizing slowness. "We might have to get creative," he murmured, his voice a husky rasp. "A little bending, a little guiding… perhaps even a little persuasion." Each word was a deliberate stroke, painting a vivid picture in my mind, arousing a potent mixture of fear and undeniable excitement.

"And don't think for a moment that I haven't thought about every single angle, every possible position," he continued, his voice a hypnotic drawl. "I've imagined you beneath me, above me, beside me… twisted in ways you never thought possible." The images he conjured were both shocking and undeniably alluring, pushing the boundaries of my inhibitions, igniting a fire within me that threatened to consume me whole.

He pulled back slightly, his lilac eyes burning into mine. "Trust me, princess," he said, a dangerous glint in his gaze. "We'll find a way. We'll make it work. And it will be… unforgettable." He lowered his head, his lips hovering just above mine, a silent invitation to surrender to the intoxicating darkness he offered.

My breath hitched in my throat, my body trembling with anticipation. The fear was still there, a nagging undercurrent, but it was being drowned out by the overwhelming tide of desire. I knew, deep down, that giving in to him, allowing him to take control, was a dangerous game. But the allure was too strong, the temptation too irresistible. I wanted to experience the full extent of his power, to explore the depths of my own desires, to lose myself in the intoxicating darkness that he embodied.

With a shaky exhale, I closed the distance between us, my lips meeting his in a hesitant, tentative kiss. It was a silent agreement, a surrender to the inevitable.

He lowered me slowly back onto the plush velvet of the couch, his movements deliberate, each one a promise and a threat. He positioned himself over me, a dark silhouette against the dim light filtering through the curtains. His lips, usually so quick to form a smirk or a biting remark, were dry, almost cracked, and he worried them with his teeth as he watched me, his gaze intense and possessive. It was a gaze that stripped me bare, not just physically, but emotionally, leaving me vulnerable and exposed.

Lifting my right leg, he draped it over his broad shoulder, the angle both compromising and exhilarating. The stretch was uncomfortable, a sharp reminder of the boundary I was crossing, but the anticipation, the undeniable pull towards him, overshadowed the pain. He pushed himself closer, the heat radiating from his body branding me, and my eyes were drawn, almost against my will, to the undeniable evidence of his arousal. His cock, already rock-hard from the first time, pulsed with a life of its own, a stark contrast to the controlled, almost detached demeanor he usually presented.

Sweat beaded on his biceps, glistening in the subdued light. Rivulets traced paths down his sculpted abs. The silver chain he always wore, a constant reminder of my love for him, swayed slightly with each movement, catching the light like a fleeting spark of rebellion.

"Caleb, are you sure…" The question escaped my lips, a whisper of doubt despite the fire that raged within me. The sheer size of his cock, the undeniable reality of what was about to happen, sent a shiver of apprehension down my spine. But he only chuckled, a low, dark sound that resonated deep within my chest, sending a tremor of both fear and excitement through me. It was a crazed sound, a sound that hinted at the darkness that lurked beneath his carefully constructed facade.

He gripped his length, his hand a possessive caress that made me gasp. Positioning the tip against my entrance, he leaned over me, his weight pressing me into the cushions. My leg strained against the unnatural angle, the muscles screaming in protest, but the pain was a distant hum compared to the roaring in my ears. He breathed against my lips, his breath hot and ragged, laced with a hint of desperation. "You will take it like a good girl, without objections, hm?"

His words were a command, a challenge, and a promise all rolled into one. They ignited a fire deep within me, a primal response that silenced my doubts and amplified my desire. I was already wet, slick and ready, his slicked, swollen head brushing against my folds like a sinful kiss.

"What about protection?" I managed to whisper, the question a last-ditch attempt to cling to some semblance of control.

He didn't hesitate, his answer immediate and unapologetic. "I don't have any with me. I didn't envision us being naked tonight," he mocked, his voice a dark, teasing whisper that sent shivers down my spine. "So our first time will be raw. So I can feel your virgin walls tighten around me." He punctuated his words with a kiss, a searing brand that sealed my fate. "It's too late to back out, you know?"

A whimper escaped my lips, a sound that betrayed the conflict raging within me. Fear warred with anticipation, doubt battled against desire. But deep down, I knew he was right. It was too late. I couldn't wait any longer to feel him inside me, to be filled with him, to experience the raw, unbridled connection that had been building between us for so long. I desperately needed him.

"Then what are you waiting for?" The words were a surrender, an invitation, a plea.

Without warning, he pushed the tip inside me, and I gasped, the unexpectedness of the sensation stealing my breath. He chuckled, a sound laced with triumph and a hint of something darker, something that made my heart pound in my chest.

"That's for being sassy, you little ungrateful brat. Will you be good for me?"

I nodded, my movements small and submissive. Our saliva dripped between our parted lips as he stroked his tongue between my words, tasting my surrender.

"Good girl," His praise was a weapon, a tool he wielded with precision, knowing exactly how to elicit the response he desired. The words made me whimper again, a sound that quickly morphed into a choked moan as he sank another inch, the painful stretch almost blinding me. It was a pain unlike any I had ever experienced, a tearing, burning sensation that threatened to overwhelm me.

"Shit," he cursed, the word a harsh rasp against the sudden silence.

He could feel you, tight and resistant, and his cock pulsed with the overwhelming urge to release, to find release in the sweet confines of your virginity. But that would be a waste, a cruel denial of the pleasure he craved, the pleasure he wanted you both to experience.

"It…it…hurts," I moaned, my nails digging into his shoulders, drawing blood without him even noticing.

He was consumed, lost in the moment, oblivious to everything but the feel of you, the taste of you, the overwhelming sensation of being connected to you in this primal, forbidden way. He gritted his teeth against the onslaught of sensation, forcing himself to slow down, to savor the agony and the ecstasy.

The sweat between us was hot, a slick film that bound us together.

His right hand, the one that had been caressing my jaw, now tightened around my throat, the metal of his fingers cool against my skin. The pressure was subtle, a gentle reminder of his power, his control.

"You're doing so good, baby. Just a little more," Caleb grunted, pushing himself even deeper, lost in the intoxicating haze of the moment.

He was too far gone to stop now, consumed by the realization that his darkest fantasy was unfolding before him. You were beneath him, naked and vulnerable, raw and breathtakingly beautiful. He wanted to freeze this moment, to hold onto it forever, to never let you go.

Tears streamed down my face, a mixture of pain and pleasure, of fear and exhilaration. It wasn't just the physical discomfort that brought them forth, but the overwhelming emotion of the moment, the profound connection that was forming between us. It was a joy to finally feel this, to feel full, to feel complete in a way I never had before.

Caleb moaned again, the sound guttural and raw, sending shivers down my spine. He removed his hand from my throat, bracing his forearm beside my head on the armrest of the couch. His fingers were clenched into a fist, a testament to the self-control he was exerting. With his other hand, he guided his cock deeper, inch by excruciating inch.

"Caleb, oh-" I couldn't stop myself from moaning his name, the sound a desperate plea that spurred him on even more. He suddenly rammed himself fully inside, all seven and a half inches of him breaching my virgin walls.

The pain was shocking, a blinding wave that washed over me, stealing my breath and leaving me momentarily paralyzed. My lips parted in a silent whimper, my body arching against his.

Caleb froze, completely still, like a statue of steel against my trembling flesh.

"I'm sorry, baby. You just feel so good," he breathed, his voice rough with emotion. He looked down at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of remorse and desire. He wiped the tears from my face, his touch gentle and surprisingly tender. "Just a moment, and the pain will fade away, all right?" He kissed my temple, a soft, lingering gesture that offered solace and reassurance. I shifted uncomfortably beneath him, and the pain began to subside, slowly transforming into something else, something almost…pleasurable.

"You can move…I think…" My voice was hoarse, my throat dry.

Caleb clenched his jaw, staring down at me with an intensity that made my heart pound. He pulled back slightly, his cock dragging against my sensitive flesh, teasing me, torturing me. He retreated until only the tip remained inside, hovering just at the edge of my entrance. The sensation was exquisite, agonizing, unbearable. The feeling of being almost empty sparked a desperate need within me, a primal urge to be filled again, to be consumed by him. I clenched around his head, my muscles contracting in a silent plea, begging him to sink back inside. I dug my nails into his skin, desperate for purchase, desperate for release.

He watched my expression, his eyes dark and knowing. And then, without warning, he thrust forward, burying himself deep within me.

My clit met his pelvic bone, sending a jolt of pure pleasure through my body. We both moaned, the sound a primal symphony of pain and ecstasy. Each thrust was more intense than the last, each drag against my sensitive flesh driving me closer to the edge. He seemed drunk on my pussy, lost in the intoxicating sensation of being inside me. The look in his eyes was feral, untamed, as he fucked me with a desperate hunger, as if he had been starving for this moment for his entire life.

My whimpers and moans grew louder, the sounds punctuated by gasps of breath. Words became gibberish, meaningless sounds that escaped my lips as I surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure. His chain swayed between us, a distracting glint of silver against the darkening landscape of our passion. He caught it between his teeth, the metal cold against his lips, and grabbed my leg, lifting my hip to ram even deeper, his balls slapping against my ass with each thrust.

"Your pussy's so...fucking...good," he grunted, his words raw and unfiltered. He looked feral, his eyes glazed with desire, his face flushed with exertion.

The air crackled with a dark, erotic charge. He teased, tormented, pushing me to the edge, then pulling me back, denying me the release I craved. He demanded my surrender, not just of my body, but of my will.

"Beg me to come, princess. Then maybe I will allow you to fly."

Too weak to resist, I obeyed.

"Please," I whimpered, the word a desperate plea torn from my throat. "Caleb, please…"

He ignored my pleas, increasing the pace, the force of his thrusts. Each stroke was a calculated torment, designed to push me closer to the precipice. The anticipation was excruciating, a delicious torture that stretched on for an eternity. I clawed at his back, my nails digging into his flesh, desperate for purchase in the storm raging within me.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Caleb relented. He unleashed the torrent, allowing me to teeter over the edge. The world exploded in a kaleidoscope of sensations, a blinding rush of pure, unadulterated pleasure. My body convulsed, my muscles tightened, and a strangled cry escaped my lips as I plummeted into the abyss.

He didn't stop there. He rode the wave with me, meeting my climax with his own. With long, powerful strokes, he pushed me further, deeper, until I thought I would shatter into a million pieces. And then, finally, he unleashed his own storm, his body shuddering as he emptied himself inside me, filling me to the brim. His seed pulsed within me, a tangible symbol of our transgression, a dark promise of the bond we had forged in the crucible of lust.

My whimpers were loud now, fueled by the aftershocks of the orgasm that still coursed through my veins.

"Such a good girl." He praised me, his voice rough and low.

He savored the moment, not wanting to waste a single drop of his essence. He thrust back inside, deeper than before, his eyes locked onto the juncture of our bodies. He stared down at the place where we were joined, where my virginity had been sacrificed on the altar of his desire. My blood, a crimson stain against the cream coloured couch, seemed to give him a deep satisfaction, a confirmation that he was the first, the one who had claimed you.

Exhaustion washed over me, a heavy blanket that threatened to pull me under. I wanted nothing more than to sleep, to escape the intensity of the moment, to retreat into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

But Caleb had other ideas. He wasn't finished with me yet.

He scooped me into his arms, carrying me towards the bathroom. "I'm going to take care of you now," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against my ear. That same caring, affectionate Caleb was back, reminding me of the old days again.

He promised me of the "special hair drying care" again which he had started when he first came to my apartment tonight, a dark threat veiled in a promise of pleasure. I was too weak to resist, too lost in the aftermath of our encounter to fight him. I complied, surrendering myself to his will, accepting my fate as his captive, his possession.

Under the warm spray of the shower, he washed away the evidence of our sin, but not the memory.

Each touch, each caress, was a reminder of the power he held over me, the dark desire that bound us together.

The warm water swirled around me, a comforting embrace that did little to soothe the unease coiled tight in my stomach. Caleb’s touch was feather-light, a deliberate caress as he guided the soapy sponge down my arm. "Are you warm enough, my love?" he murmured, his voice a silken thread weaving through the steamy air. "The water's just how you like it, isn't it?"

I leaned into him, the familiar scent of his sandalwood soap filling my senses. "Perfect, Caleb. Just perfect."

His hands moved to my hair, the suds cool against my scalp as he began to massage. It was a familiar ritual, one I usually found deeply relaxing. Tonight, however, a tremor of something akin to apprehension ran through me.

"Mmm, your hair smells like honeysuckle again," he said, his voice dropping a register, becoming intimately close. "I love it when you use that shampoo. It reminds me of the times when we were young and naive. Thinking back..it was like fate."

A smile touched my lips, a fragile thing. "It does feel like fate, doesn't it?"

His fingers stilled for a moment, the gentle rhythm broken. When he spoke again, the lightness had vanished from his tone, replaced by an intensity that always left me breathless. "It is fate. You were always meant to be mine. Do you understand that, princess?"

I turned my face up to his, meeting his gaze. His eyes, usually a warm purple, were now dark pools, reflecting a possessiveness that bordered on obsession. "Yes, Caleb. I do." The words were a reflex, a response I knew he needed to hear.

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs tracing slow circles on my cheekbones. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, yet there was an underlying strength, a claim being staked.

"Good. Because sometimes… sometimes I worry. I see the way others look at you. They don't understand. They don't see what I see. They don't deserve to see."

A chill, unrelated to the water temperature, prickled my skin. I reached up, placing my hands over his wrists, my fingers pressing against the pulse that throbbed there. "They don't matter, Caleb. Only you matter."

A relieved sigh escaped him, a gust of air that ruffled the damp tendrils of hair framing my face. "That's right. Only me. And you… you are only mine. Every inch of you. This beautiful skin…" He dipped the sponge again, his touch lingering on my shoulder. "…these soft curves…" His fingers trailed down my back, sending shivers dancing across my spine. “…all mine."

"Yes, Caleb. All yours," I whispered, the words a surrender, a promise.

He pulled me closer, the water cascading over both of us, plastering my hair to my face. His voice was a low murmur against my ear, a secret shared in the intimacy of the moment. "No one will ever take you away from me. Do you hear me? No one. They can try, but…" He paused, the darkness that lurked beneath the surface creeping into his tone. "…they will fail."

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over me: fear, yes, but also a strange sense of security. There was a raw power in his words, a certainty that both terrified and thrilled me. I wrapped my arms around him tightly, clinging to him as if he were the only anchor in a turbulent sea. "I don't want anyone else, Caleb. I only want you."

He kissed my temple, his lips lingering against my skin, branding me. His embrace tightened, possessive and demanding. "And you'll always have me. I'll always be here, watching over you, protecting you. You can't run from me, even if you wanted to."

Tilting my head back, I looked up at him, forcing a soft smile onto my face. "I don't want to run. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be." It was a lie, perhaps, or at least a half-truth. There were days, nights even, when the weight of his devotion felt like a gilded cage, beautiful but confining. But the alternative, the thought of not being with him, was even more terrifying.

His grip tightened further, his knuckles white against my back, but his voice softened again, becoming almost achingly tender. "My sweet, precious… You are my everything."

The sound of the water continued, a constant, swirling symphony that filled the silence as Caleb held me close. I closed my eyes, focusing on the feel of his arms around me, the steady beat of his heart against my ear. It was a silent promise of forever, a forever that both comforted and haunted me.

I knew, deep down, that Caleb's love was a dangerous thing, a consuming fire that threatened to engulf everything in its path. But I was drawn to it, mesmerized by its intensity. He saw me, truly saw me, in a way no one else ever had. He cherished me, protected me, even if that protection came at a cost.

And perhaps, I thought, as I leaned further into his embrace, that was enough. Perhaps being his, completely and utterly, was a price I was willing to pay. The alternative, a life without his fierce devotion, was a bleak and desolate landscape I couldn't bear to imagine. So I stayed, bathed in the warmth of his possessive love, and prayed that the darkness that flickered in his eyes would never consume us both. I prayed that my love would be enough to keep him tethered to reality, to prevent his obsession from spiraling out of control.

But deep down, a chilling voice whispered that it was already too late. That I was already caught in his web, bound by threads of love and fear, and that there was no escape. And perhaps, a small, secret part of me didn't want to escape. Perhaps I was as addicted to his darkness as he was to my light.

[homerstroystory]

Folding fan depicting scenes from the history of ballooning

French; c. 1785; reformed [horn] protein sticks and skin leaf painted with gouache, diamond paste studs in rivet, brass ring; maximum open of 50.5cm.

Currently in the collection of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, accession no. 43.2078

[smallmariofindings]

While the typical number of coins that can be obtained from a multi-coin block in Super Mario World is around 10, the maximum number is a surprisingly large 32, achievable by positioning Balloon Mario directly underneath the block.

Main Blog | Patreon | Twitter | Bluesky | Small Findings | Source: LooygiBros

[jaemlonfz]

can you do something about svt members wearing suits and holding their baby in the carrier infront and going for some event and the reader thinking "is it too soon to be wanting baby #2" 🫢 thank you <333

ps: i took over a MONTH to write this and i still think its not that good, i did not review it and english isnt my first language so im sorry if theres grammar errors, i hope yall like it wc: 3,1 K tw: there's the explanation and then pure filth, overall its basically all sorts of positions, crempie, praise kink in most of them, lmk if i forgot something so i was doing everyone in suits and wanting baby #2 but I started to think it was a bit silly because they all looked the same, so I changed the story for most of them. anyways i hope you still liked it, i made it with a lot of love and i apologize for taking so long

Seungcheol

You and Scoups were a public couple, fans distrusted you for years, you were always openly saying how much you loved seventeen's songs and still always singing Seungcheol's excerpts, and he openly talking about the films you star in without the slightest shame. So when you guys finally came out as a couple, your fanbase wasn't shocked at all.

A few years later as a married couple, after a one-year hiatus, you were seen in public with scoups carrying two little girls, that's how they found out that you had become parents of twin girls.

Years later, now with your daughters a bit older, you were getting ready for an awards ceremony, your burgundy dress matching with scoups tie, your girls' dresses in light pink. You were looking for your earring in every corner of your room when you went down to the living room to ask if your husband was with him, but when you arrived in the living room you saw the most adorable scene ever, Seungcheol trying to fix one of the girls' hairstyle while the another was stuck to his back kissing his cheek.

You can tell you felt your stomach turn at the Scoups' serious look as he tried not to ruin his daughter's hair, while the other looked at her father as if he were the most precious thing in the world.

Scoups was such a wonderful, caring and kind father.

You guys hadn't really brought up the subject of having kids anymore considering all the work you'd put in with both of them at once, but now it's a topic you'll actually talk about after seeing your husband being an extraordinary father.

It was only when you arrived at the awards ceremony that you realized you only had one earring in your ear.

-

“How beautiful my dear wife, you already want to have another baby”

Seungcheol said pushing his length into you, as he wiped your tears and brushed the hair stuck to your forehead.

“Will you let me fill you up so you can get pregnant again? Do you want to have a big belly carrying my son again?

Jeonghan

You knew you wanted to have another child with Jeonghan as soon as you saw him carrying your newborn son in the hospital, but that's something that absolutely every mother feels so you honestly didn't pay much attention to the feeling. But now, on the exact same date, a year later, you felt the same thing but with an animalistic intensity.

It was your son's first birthday and you decided to have a party with just the child's grandparents. With a maximum of ten balloons scattered around the large room, the grandparents amused by the baby's toothless smile, you decided to grab a candle and a lighter so you could sing personalized congratulations.

returning to the room with a candle and the lighter in your hand it was completely involuntary to rub your legs with emotion after seeing Jeonghan with your son in his arms. They were both wearing matching clothes, they both had the same smile, the same eyes and the same nose, they were like clones. the baby's thin hair was the same tone as yours but he was still a miniature Jeonghan, and seeing him smile so sincerely with his son in his arms made your eyes water a little.

-

“Jeonghan I want another baby." You admitted once the baby was sleeping in the crib.

“Do you really want another child or do you just want me to fill you?” He said smiling, and after your response in the blink of an eye your situation was completely different.

Your back arched as your ass was in the air and you cried and screamed with your face in the pillow.

“You asked for it, now you handle it.” Jeonghan said kissing your back.

Joshua

Joshua has always been a very giving person, every sunday going to church to pray for the well-being of others, and at least once a month going to orphanages to care for sick or orphaned children. And it was on one of these trips to the orphanage that you met.

Now years later Joshua continues with the same cherished habit of providing for others, and that's how you discovered that necessarily marrying him and carrying his child in your womb

Joshua was in bed when they called from the orphanage saying that a new child had arrived, as always Joshua shouted from the bed and ran asking if you would go with him to meet the new family member, you obviously said yes, quickly getting ready with him.

When you arrived in place, you ran to the bathroom because you were holding on too tightly to make a good impression on the child. returning to the giant garden looking for an unknown face, who you thought was around 4 or 5 years old, you saw Joshua's back and his arms as if he was waiting for something. Joshua quickly noticed your presence and turned to see you.

The child was definitely no older than 6 months old, Joshua held her with so much care, looked at her with so much care and love that you felt your blood pressure dropping.

Joshua was born to be a father, and you were the only one who hadn't realized that yet.

-

Now you had your legs as close together as possible, squeezing yourself constantly trying to hold in the liquid that would give you a child without letting a drop leak out.

As soon as you got home you admitted your dirty thoughts towards Joshua, who quickly took off your clothes, turned you around and filled you up.

“If you really want my son, don’t let a drop leak.” Joshua said from the kitchen, making you a sandwich while you smiled with completely red cheeks.

Junhui

It was the first time you had been away from your son for more than 10 hours, and Junhui was a wreck. Both had already cried because you missed your baby while he slept peacefully next to you, and now the day of true farewell had arrived.

You were going to a wedding a few hours away, so in case it was to late on the way back, you had already booked a hotel room just in case.

At the moment you were adjusting your heels sitting on the bed, while you saw Hunhui on the baby monitor talking to the adorable baby. you managed to hear a few words like “i’m going to miss you.” or “don’t cry too much in your grandmother’s ear.” Junhui was already ready with his suit and you, now late, ran to your son’s room to say goodbye too. but when you arrived at the door, when you saw Junhui's look at the child, you didn't know how to describe whether your heart was tender or swollen.

As expected, it was very late when the wedding ended and you had to sleep at the hotel, you could feel Junhui awake and restless by the way he moved in bed, and it left you with a wonderfull idea.

-

“You're such a good father." You said, panting on top of Junhui, riding his dick. “So worried about your son." Now you lay down in the perfect position to whisper in his ear

“Let’s give him a brother so he won’t be so alone, let’s have another child to worry about." You said and I could feel your cock twitching inside your tight, damaged interior

Soonyoung

it was yours daughter's first halloween, and quite obviously, soonyoung dressed her up as a tiger.

Yall had absolutely no party to go to, and honestly you thought the idea of ​​going door to door with a baby in costume was a bit strange, so you only dressed up for some photos and to have a fun memory about your first halloween as a family.

Soonyoung obviously begs you for the whole family to be tigers, so while you were looking for a shirt of his with a tiger print or some other style of clothing, when you returned to the living room you saw the most heart-warming scene in the world.

Soonyoung was holding the small hands of the child, who was trying to stand, while they were both smiling widely, you couldn't help it and took a photo of the moment, certainly thinking about how beautiful it would look framed on the wall.

Now that your daughter was already asleep, you went to talk to soonyoung about the scene you saw and you were obviously teased about it.

“Since you liked me so much seeing our daughter, let’s have another one”

-

“Younggg…” You mumbled trying not to make noise so as not to wake the beloved child in the next room

“i also love seeing you with our baby, let’s do one more” He pushed his length into you, who groaned at the invasion without warning.

“Ohh… ​​please soon, let’s have another one”

Wonwoo

In fact, wonwoo took the initiative to have another child with you.

Wonwoo has a younger brother and he can definitely say that it is a wonderful thing to have someone to look after and be able to talk to, so after a year of your baby being born wonwoo called you to talk about it.

The conversation was absolutely very short, he simply admitted that he wanted another child and you opened the robe you were wearing and let it fall to the floor

-

“Such a willing mother.” He kissed your chin and quickly moved down to your neck. “Such a willing wife”

“How can you be so willing to make me happy." He smiled ramming his cock into you, who twitched beneath him

“Are you so wet just thinking about me bearing another child? Do you like to imagine me filling your brim?”

You managed to hear a chuckle from him as you hurriedly shook your head answering the question. “You will look so beautiful swollen with my son”

Jihoon

Honestly there wasn't a specific moment that you knew you wanted to have another child with Jihoon, because you always knew that once you saw this man as a father, you would never stop, but I really think the penny dropped when your son asked for a sister.

You were having a movie night when suddenly your three year old son asked for a little sister. your face automatically turned to Jihoon, who as already looking at you.

You talked to your son and said you were going to talk to his father about it, and when you saw your son's reaction, you swore to yourself that you would give this child a giant family to love

“You can rest assured that you’re going to have a little sister." You heard Jihoon whispering in your son’s ear while he was still looking at you

-

“Jihoon…” you whimpered underneath him, your legs spread, your arms up being held by your husband’s strong hand

“We have to fulfill our firstborn’s wish, and now is the perfect time”

Jihoon was referring to the weekend he was spending with his grandparents, you were definitely going to be pregnant by the end of this sunday.

dokyeom -

Today was your cousin's wedding and you were desperately late. putting on your heels as you jumped up to your one-year-old daughter who was in her crib still in her pajamas, after all you left her there to get ready first and dress her up later, but distracted by the happiness of putting on makeup for a big event again you completely lost track of what time .

Mentally cursing yourself for messing around so much while doing your makeup, you entered the room imagining the little girl with her hair all tangled up, a dirty diaper stinking of poop and her tantruming with hunger, but when you opened your eye, preparing for the worst you saw dokyeom a hand without a lap.

He was holding her in his arms, trying to keep her awake so she could rest later. Dokyeom was divine with those formal clothes and kinda wet hair, you were led to think about your husband making you feel good thinking about having another child

She was already dressed beautifully, her suitcase was already packed, her hair was in a beautiful hairstyle and with a beautiful bow that matched her dress. Dokyeom had done all of this knowing you would be late.

-

“do you want to see me be a father again? did you like me seeing our daughter today?” dokyeom said as he kissed your sweaty neck.

“are you going to let me fill you up again? will you let me breed you?" he laughed at your scrunched up face with no coherent thoughts in your brain.

Mingyu

That Mingyu is a famous model that everyone knows, and that you, his makeup artist, had great chemistry with him, everyone knows, that's how you met. Now married with two daughters, brands caught your opportunity to do a commercial featuring Mingyu as his girls' father, so you did him in makeup for the shoot.

It was a casual commercial, something like them at a picnic, an outdoor field. With a brush you touch up the makeup on Mingyu's tanned skin while others arranging the scene.

In the scenes, Mingyu had one on his shoulders and the other was running hand in hand with her father or with the two playing together while he smiled admiringly. Seeing this scene was something that super swelled your heart with love and warmed your insides with emotion at seeing your husband and daughters.

When you got home at the end of the day, you were both exhausted and fell into your crib like rocks.

-

“Mingyu, give me another child” He wasted no time in pushing you onto the bed and holding your legs in the air and starting to push his length into your wet core.

“You were certainly excited about me seeing it in the commercial today, right? Do you want to have another child after you saw me looking so hot taking care of the girls” He talked to you while your eyes rolled constantly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to only let you sleep tonight after you have an baby in your womb.”

Minghao

You and Minghao always had in mind that you wanted someone to love and call family, technical children would only come as a bonus if your partner also liked the idea of ​​procreating.

Minghao was a little piece of heaven, being everything good you could imagine, so when he thought about his thoughts about just wanting one person to call family without the obligatory need to involve a baby you were left in doubt.

Your first child was an accident and you discovered the pregnancy at 4 months, welcoming the pregnancy you saw the brightness in Minghao's eyes increasing even more, especially after your son was born.

Now, a few years later with an older child and already demonstrating some personality traits, you will see that any chance to bring lives with the same principles as Minghao you will definitely seize this opportunity.

So yes, practically you would get pregnant countless times if it meant several mini Minghao’s around the world.

“Let’s have another baby now Hao” You said as soon as Minghao sat on the bed getting ready to sleep, but now a night’s sleep is no longer guaranteed.

-

You were on your sides, lying on the bed, your pajamas were askew and your panties dragged to the side as Minghao pushed into you calmly.

“How beautiful asking me to get you pregnant, looking at me with such long eyes, your red cheeks and your sweaty hands.” He whispered in your ear slowly

“You were so nervous, did you think I would deny your request?” He kissed your neck moving his index finger to your sensitive spot “I will never deny you that”

Seungkwan

Seungkwan has always been romantic, and even after his first child was born he continued with this characteristic. Always bringing you flowers when he came home from work, bringing you your favorite chocolate or even asking for your favorite food to be delivered to your door while he was traveling.

So in his head, even though he knew that any basic conversation about having another child would probably end with you agreeing with him and you making the second child, but Seungkwan wanted to win over the second child, he wanted to win over you.

Suddenly Seungkwan would come home with clothes that were smaller than what your son was wearing because he had gotten "confused", sometimes he would take the foods you craved during pregnancy and ask you if it reminded you of anything or even buy a shirt written "big brother" for his son after all he hadn't even seen the print. So when you thought about it, you realized that Seungkwan was already way ahead of you, giving you clues about having another child from the beginning.

-

"Kwannie, if you wanted another baby you just had to tell me" You said on top of him, he had covered your face in shame the moment you discovered his plan and climbed on his dick.

"I didn't want to pressure you" He spoke shakily, you guys fit together so well. You were so magnificent on top of him.

"You deserve another child, and I will never feel pressured by something you do."

Vernon

Vernon has a good relationship with his sister. According to him, he and his sister were always friends and always counted on themselves in situations that their parents were unable to help. You have a good relationship with your brother, and you definitely agree with Vernon's wise words.

Gaining a sibling for both of us was like winning the lottery, receiving the best gift in the world, having a friend of your own blood. So you've definitely come to the conclusion that you're either going to have a couple of children or none at all, and as you're now going out with a five-year-old child, it's time to give the gift that you both managed to receive for the anxious firstborn.

-

“I forgot how addictive you are” Vernon mumbled as you moved on top of him.

“I think I’m going to try to get you pregnant every day from now on.”

Chan

Chan is a chaming person, and he actually its very good at making people do what he wanted, without them even knowing that. So when he saw you as a actual mother, holding your lilttle girl in your arms, Chan knew that all he wanted to do for the rest of his life was making you more and more of a mother and seeing you enjoying your motherhood.

Of course he would help around the house, he wanted to be a good husband/father so you could see his effort and give him a reward (a new baby)

Obviously Chan knew that your first pregnancy was very great and you did not suffer at all coparing to others mothers experience, and he knew if someday you started acting like that, it would be the end of the story. But he couldnt help himself when he saw you all curved up for him, with your tearing eyes begging for another baby

-

"Of couse i will give you another baby." He kissed your forehead as you mumbled below his muscular body

"How can i say no after you look at my so beautiful like that?" He whines in your ear seeing you tremble all up again.

"Such a beautiful mother." And yet again, Chan always get what he wants.

[pliablehead]

it’s constantly flip-flopping between face in and steadycam

realistically, X-O. haunting (affectionate) (lovely)

bellio OBBBBBBviouslyyyy

this is where we agree 99% lol i think it’s upsilon because i imprinted on it first (the back end/coda AOUGJH i love) but i loovvvee drips and tbh also accelerate a lot. i feel about o shudder the way i feel about Arc i think in that it’s hard for me to pick one standout favorite because I’m usually just like Well They’re All Pretty Neat !

streetlight!!! my first love. except it deserves a Boys Video tbh

i am actually having a much harder time with TE than anticipated!! i went ‘well it’s prob in salvia’ and then went ‘WELL or it’s damascenes. WELL i also really adore i’m not your dad for some reason. OR MAYBE IT’S just the title track after all actually.’ staring into the void!! same problem as o shudder honestly!!! I think I may have to say True Entertainment ultimately but like only for the sake of Picking One

P.S.: P IS FOR PARTY

same ‘one fave song per album’ question but it’s duncles. i feel like we have way more overlap here

OHHH very good very good... lets go

DUTCH UNCLES: i'm really into jetson suddenly. face in has been usurped literally in the last couple weeks

CADENZA: oh this is SOO difficult but probably the ink. because

OUT OF TOUCH IN THE WILD: bellio... of course... who else

O SHUDDER: upsilon but honourable mention to "15/8 wank orchestra" drips :^)

BIG BALLOON: oh yeah but mostly because its the one i put on to force my loved ones to listen to dutch uncles and they all go NOT DUNCAN WALLIS IN ROLLERSKATES AGAIN, HELLKITEPRIEST. honourable mention to big balloon itself for the bass riff

TRUE ENTERTAINMENT: it might actually be poppin'. i was about to call this a "controversial opinion" as if anyone else has opinions on this. orrrr damascenes because duncans voice does such emotional Things

(alternate answer for all: fabio acapella obv)

[markrosewater]

Maro’s “Look Inside the House”: A Duskmourn: House of Horrors Teaser

The new plane of Duskmourn is a perilous place, but if you can survive the horrors within you may come out stronger than ever. I’ve been there. I’ve seen the darkness and to that end, here are some hints of things to come – but will this information help or hinder your journey? Only time will tell. As with any good piece of horror media, you’re only receiving partial information and things are not always as they appear: 

 First up, here are some things you can expect:  

• A component of the set with a frame using technology first designed for an Un-set

• A tweak on an ability word that first appeared in the third set of a block

• Counters used in the set: +1/+1, -1/-1, finality, flying, lifelink, lore, loyalty, nest, possession, rev, stun, and time

• The first ability word to reference “second main phase”

• A 10/1 creature for UUU

• A variant on a mechanic that itself was a variant on another mechanic

• A modal three mana white mass removal spell

• A character returns as a legendary creature that first appeared in flavor text in Alpha

• A new ability word that cares about a card type and a (new) keyword action

• Creature tokens: 1/1 white Toy, 1/1 white Glimmer, 2/1 white Insect, 3/1 white Spirit, 4/4 white Beast, blue token copy, X/X blue Spirit, 2/2 black Horror, 6/6 black Demon, 1/1 red Gremlin, 1/1 red Balloon, 2/2 green Spider, 1/1 black and green Insect, and 0/0 green and blue Fractal

 Next, here are some rules text that will be showing up on cards:  

• “unlock a locked door”

• “Search your library for a Demon card,”

• “where X is the number of creatures you control with power 2 or less.”

• “Exile any number of target instant, sorcery, and/or Tamiyo planeswalker cards from your graveyard.”

• “The same is true for creature spells you control and creature cards you own that aren’t on the battlefield.”

• “You have no maximum hand size and don’t lose the game for having 0 or less life.”

• “Whenever you cast an instant or sorcery spell that targets only a single creature you control, copy that spell.”

• “Shards you control become copies of it until the beginning of the next end step.”

• “of creatures you control that don’t have the same name as this creature.”

• “(2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29, and 31 are prime numbers.)”

 Here are some creature type lines from the set: 

• Creature – Human Doctor

• Creature – Kor Survivor

• Creature – Goat

• Creature – Shark

• Creature – Eye

• Creature – Fish Insect

• Artifact Creature – Monkey Toy

• Creature – Human Clown Berserker

• Legendary Creature – Elder Demon

• Legendary Creature – Rat Ninja Wizard

 Finally, here are some names in the set: 

• Acrobatic Cheerleader

• Don’t Make a Sound

• Exorcise

• Friendly Ghost

• Jump Scare

• Let’s Play a Game

• Meathook Massacre II

• Orphans of the Wheat

• Split Up

• Unsettling Twins

 Tune into Duskmourn’s Debut at 2pm PT, August 31 – streaming live from PAX West – where the House will finally reveal more of its secrets.

[mutant-distraction]

Austrian Felix Baumgartner becomes the first skydiver to break the speed of sound, reaching a maximum velocity of 833.9mph (1,342 km/h).

📸: Jean-Pierre Tessari

The image shows Felix Baumgartner during the Red Bull Stratos mission. It was a project where he performed a record-breaking skydive from the stratosphere on October 14, 2012. Key details include:

Baumgartner jumped from approximately 39 kilometers (24 miles) above the Earth.

He broke three world records: highest freefall, highest manned balloon flight, and first person to break the sound barrier in freefall.

[anothermaletfwriter]

Dark Macademia Masculinity

(First story yay, I'll post a companion story to this soon)

Jonathan and Jeremy were your typical gay couple. Jeremy worked as a hairdresser in the local mall and Jonathan was a flight attendant. When the both of them were home, which was rare due to Jonathan’s job, they would usually play a cozy soft fantasy-themed farm dating simulator on their bright pink Switch, or crochet colorful plushies of bees. Jeremy was the bookish nerd of the two. Obsessed with tropes and romances, he would info dump about his favorite graphic novels and fanfiction to Jonathan. While Jonathan loved Jeremy for his softness and approachability, he sometimes wished he himself was a bit more masculine. Less flamboyant looking. No matter how hard he worked out or how many protein powders he bought, he could never see any progress at the gym. But Jeremy loved him for the soft twink he was, so he typically kept those thoughts to himself.

Today was an exciting day for Jeremy. There was a promotional event in the local bookstore. Jonathan reluctantly went with him, only there to support his ever loving boyfriend.

In the brightly lit modern store, a large bright pink banner with black bold lettering above said “Try An Extrasensory Novel today.”

“Babe, I’ll be at the Graphic Novels section. They have the newest book of the CardiacPauser series,” Jeremy wrapped his arms around Jonathan, his white hoodie drapping over his.

“I’ll stay. Something tells me I’ll find a book I like here.”

Jeremy kissed him on the cheek, before traversing to his section. “Okay babe.”

Truthfully, Jonathan wanted to be left alone, knowing that if he had gone with his boyfriend, he would just be standing there as he read the graphic novels. He peeked at some of the bold and brash covers of the books but none stood out to him. Some boring modern day issues and thrillers. None of that was interesting.

A strong nutty scent of macadamia nuts interrupted his picky process. It was delicious. He was enamored by it since it was his favorite syrup in his boba order. But where was it coming from? There were no bubble tea places or even a coffee shop nearby. Hopefully no one had spilled anything, it would be a hot mess to clean. All the residue would attract ants and no one wants that, especially at a book store.

The scent grew stronger as he knelt down on the floor but there were no stains or spills on the dark green carpet. Not even a droplet of liquid. His nose led him to a specific book. The cover was a simplistic black text in front of a gray to white gradient background. An amateur with a dream and MS paint must have made it. It read: “Absolute Maximum: Understanding Yourself”. The blurb revealed it was a self-help men’s book. MAXIMIZE YOUR GAINS. MAXIMIZE YOUR ALPHA. MAXIMIZE YOUR MASCULINITY. Finally, a book that appealed to him. While he read the acknowledgments to alpha males and the pinnacles of masculinity, an aggressive warmth developed in his chest but he wasn’t sweating. The book was smaller and lighter in his now larger hands.

Chapter 1: ASSERTING YOURSELF. The simple prose asserted him to realize his true self. He was a man’s man, not a flamboyant twink. He felt the glow in his body starting to spread. Jonathan failed to notice his limbs stretching and growing to fit his muscular frame. His baggy clothes were tiny on his taller frame. While he remembered being at eye level with the middle shelf, he towered over it in the present.

He speedread the first and last paragraphs of the rest of the chapters, after all everything in between was filler. His once faint abs exploded into rock, hard canyons on his stomach. Adonis belt defined enough to go skiing on them. The flat soft joke of a chest ballooned into firm pecs. He owed it from his strict dieting routine and gym sessions with the bros. But what about Jeremy? Wait who was that? His memories of his boyfriend shifted into memories at extensive frat parties and going home with hot chicks afterwards.

The rest of the pages flew by from his intense skimping. His twig arm exploded with bulging biceps and triceps. He rolled up his small hoodie and flexed the peaks of mountains that were on his arms. He felt a glowing pleasure as testosterone fueled throughout his body. He thirsted for a protein shake. His face hardened into a mature shape, his hands gliding across a chiseled jawline. His traps and shoulders spiked up, bulging out of the jacket close to bursting out. The more words he read, the more of his memories transmuted. All the times he cuddled with Jeremy with hot cocoa under a pink blanket were replaced by his new memories of flattering women in his own apartment with a bookshelf of books he curated solely from their color schemes. He hardly read anything in them besides the blurb on the cover and the first chapter. He wasn’t a fuckboy, per se. He had a more academic approach, aiming to get into women’s pants through the seductive language of surface-level literature discussion.

Jonathan Johnny exhaled a deep breath as his tight top, which constricted his chiseled pecs, turned into a loose black shirt underneath a dark beige open jacket. He outgrew his sweatpants into a dark pair of jeans, which he tightened using a studded black belt. He felt god-like but his heart started to race. A quiet part internally knew this wasn’t him— but it was. This was the real him. None of this should be surprising.

Thoughts of his boyfriend, Jeremy, dissipated into the air. He didn’t have a boyfriend. He wasn’t into men. He was Johnny, the straightest man ever known. He had been straight his whole life, recalling his first time with a hot book nerd girl in the unisex bathroom of a bookstore back in his small town. In his time as a flight attendant, he often slept with the foreign women around the airport, sneaking into his overseas hotel rooms.

The book was unnecessary, so he returned it. It no longer smelled of macadamia nuts. He didn’t need it. He already was the most alpha he had been. His once kind and feminine personality turned into a more manipulative, masculine one. He used the charms of academic aesthetics to sleep with woman, often pretending to know the novels they loved. He surveyed the store for any hotties to bang, as a red head with glasses catching his eye.

Johnny walked up to the girl, feeling like a titan over her, with a book he had picked up that was a modern retelling of Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway. He didn’t really care about the contents of it since it was a lure for the woman he wanted to conquer. He peeked down on her, and felt his underwear being restrictive.

He leaned on the shelf opposite to her, opening his book one-handed while squeezing his chest with the other hand. He glanced at her to elevate his mysterious nature.

“Oh hi,” The red head squeaked, rearranging her glasses. Her fingers that held her fantasy romance novel were shaking.

Turning the book down, he revealed his square jaw, “What are you reading?” He walked closer to the girl, subtly flexing his bicep.

“Nothing. It’s just a romcom. Dark broody male love interest. Strangers to lovers. Heh.”

Johnny kneeled down to her height. He whispered in his deep voice seductively to her ears, extending a hand out, “Hope it has a happy ending.”

The red head took his hand with no hesitation. Her face red from the blushing, dropping the book on the floor. She was utterly lovestruck. While walking out the store, they passed by a gay couple who apologized for bumping into him. No worries, he said. He enjoyed gay men’s existence since they took out potential competition for his women.

On the drive home on his motorcycle, the red head noted that Johnny had fit every criteria of her dream love interest: well traveled, dresses in a dark academia style, tall, muscular and drives a motorcycle.

He fucked her brains out while she felt his defined physique with the crevices between his chest and bulging six pack. Her moans were a common sound in his dimly lit apartment. After he finished his seed in her, the remnants of Jonathan and his homosexuality were shot out as well. He went to his bathroom and snapped a mirror selfie to put on his social media profiles. This was the real Johnny. No more Jonathan. He admired himself of the man he was before returning to round two.

[baby-you-you]

haaii!! could u do a summer kidre themed set ?

Summer kidre themed things!!!

🌞 Activities

Laying in a sunbeam with a popsicle or stuffie Drawing with sidewalk chalk (or on paper if indoors!) Blowing bubbles or watching them float Making “summer soup” with water, leaves, and flowers (I used to do this all the time, please don't drink it though) Running through the sprinkler or hose spray Building sandcastles or playing in a sand bin (Those turtle shaped ones are great for maximum joy) Playing with water balloons or squirt toys

🌞 clothing

Light cotton pajamas with sunshine or ocean prints Soft shorts or denim overalls Tie-dye shirts or pastel tank tops Barefoot or wearing jelly sandals/crocs Swimsuit with floaties or rash guard Towel capes or oversized beach towels Sunglasses with silly shapes (stars, hearts, dinosaurs) Sunhat/ baseball cap

🌞 toys

Favorite plushie in sunglasses Bubble wands or bubble machines Chalk, finger paints, or window markers Toy watering can or pretend gardening tools Rubber duckies or floaty toys for water play Toy beach set (bucket, shovel, rake, or one of those fancy little sandcastle buckets!!!) Water squirters or splash pads (You can also go to a locational splash pad for more fun!) Picnic basket playset or toy BBQ set (hyou can get these at Walmart or HEB)

🌞 Games

Coloring summer scenes (ice cream, sun, beach) Ice cube painting or frozen toy dig Hide-and-seek in the backyard or living room “beach” Water cup relay (scoop water and fill a bowl with a sponge!) Sandbox treasure hunt (basically bury a toy, try to find it) Tag with summer rules (freeze, melt, splash!) Pretend lemonade stand or popsicle shop Summer scavenger hunt (find yellow, something wet, something round, etc.)

🌞 Foods & drinks

Popsicles (real or juice-based) Sliced watermelon or fruit on sticks Lemonade or fruit punch in a sippy or cup with a silly straw Fruit snacks or “ants on a log” (celery, peanut butter, raisins) Jell-O cups or gummy worms in “dirt” (chocolate pudding + crushed cookies) Mini sandwiches, cut into stars or triangles HOT DOGS!! grilled cheese picnic-style Ice cream sundaes with sprinkles (with supervision if messy!)

🌞 Nicknames

Sunny Sunny beam Sunny delight Bubbles Bubbly Bubble baby Beachbug Lil' beachbug Popsicle kiddo Kiddo Sprinkle Sprinkles Ducky Sizzle

[thebibliosphere]

Very much hoping this isn’t helpy. You mentioned big cups being a problem to hold. You know Camelback bladders? The big balloons with the long squishy straw people take hiking?

fwiw they’re awesome for drinking maximum fluid with minimum effort in just about any position. I hang it off the bedpost.

I’ve tried them and can see them being handy for others.

The straw is an issue for me because they’re not firm enough and I choke a bit, but that’s specific to my issues.

(This is not an invitation for anyone to send me straw recommendations. Please refrain from doing so. Thank you.)

[mathmodder]

Get Wild Mod by MathModder (In Progress)

What you need to know:

This mod introduces wild animals into your game map that spawn naturally in beetle spawners. It includes birds, small mammals, amphibians, more insects and reptiles in nature zones. Birds can fly and land in random locations and ground animals can be seen walking around the map.

You can choose ONE from various versions that best suit your world. Select the version that spawns specific animals suitable for your World's location.

Here's a list of potential versions that will be included in the mod:

All Wildlife (City World)*

All Wildlife (Medieval / Country town)**

American Wildlife (City World)*

American Wildlife (Medieval / Country town)**

European Wildlife (City World)*

European Wildlife (Medieval / Country town)**

African Wildlife (City World)*

African Wildlife (Medieval / Country town)**

Eastern Wildlife (City World)*

Eastern Wildlife (Medieval / Country town)**

*Versions for cities will have additional specific effects that help create a more beautiful environment for your city, such as planes in the sky, fireworks, sunshine rays during the day, and sky lanterns for the All Wildlife and Eastern Wildlife version. **Versions for Medieval/Country towns will feature additional specific effects to enhance the beauty of your world, including hot air balloons in the sky, sunshine rays during the day, and more.

These additional effects mentioned above will appear rarely and randomly in your world.

Can I place individual animals in specific locations, such as on rocks or tables?

In a future update after launch, this function will be added, for now they will only spawn where there is a beetle spawner. Ground animals on the ground and birds in the air.

Is the mod heavy to run?

Within the game I am optimizing it so that a small number of animals spawn at the same time and only spawn at a maximum distance of 500 meters from the player's camera.

How many files will there be?

Because there are many animals and specific animations for each one, the files will be heavy, will be a maximum of 2 to 3 files. In tests in my game with 150 other mods from other creators, I didn't see any loss of performance due to the optimization I'm doing within the game.

It is worth mentioning that some files will need to be placed in the Overrides folder and others in the Packages folder, they will all be specified at launch.

Is this mod compatible with other effect mods?

Yes, it will be compatible.

Bugs:

Depending on the location, there may be some bugs such as birds landing in the air or animals walking a little above the ground, this is due to calculation problems on certain game surfaces and physics, whether hills or mountains, but over time I will update and see What can I do to reduce this. In this case I depend on the engine the game has and whether it is possible to correct certain errors.

Release date:

Between January and February 2024 (It is in the testing phase)

Here is the list of animals that will be included in the mod:

American Eagle Bird

Anteater

Artic Tern

Aphids

Bat

Beaver

Bees

Black Bird

Black Egret

Black Fox

Black Goose

Black Rat

Blue Bird

Blue Frog

Blue Green Parrot Bird

Blue Jay

Blue Lizard

Blue Parakeet

Blue Macaw

Booby Bird

Brown Bird

Brown Bunny

Brown Egret

Brown Hen

Brown Monkey

Brown Owl Bird

Brown Pelican Bird

Brown Squirrel

Bullfinch Bird

Bullfrog

Butterflies (many colors)

Buzzard Bird

Canary

Capercaillie Female Bird

Capercaillie Male Bird

Canadian Goose

Cardinal

Carcara Bird

Charadriidae

Chimp

Chimpmunk

Chukar partridge

Condor Bird

Cormorant

Coyote

Crow

Cicada

Cockroach

Dart Frog

Dove Bird

Dragonfly

Egret

European Goldfinch

Falcon

Female Peacock Bird

Flamingo Bird

Fox

Fireflies

Golden Monkey

Golden Pheasant

Goldfinch

Gray Frog

Gray Lizard

Gray Parrot Bird

Gray Partridge

Green Bird

Green Frog

Green Lizard

Green Parakeet

Green Parrot Bird

Harlequin Duck

Hawk

Heron Bird

Hoopoe Bird

Horn Owl Bird

Humming Bird

Humming Bird Loop

Jack Rabbit

Kinkajou

Komodo Dragon

Ladybug

Lilac-breasted Roller

Little Red Parrot

Little Yellow Bird

Little Yellow Parrot

Magpie

Mallard Bird

Marmot

Marten

Male Peacock Bird

Mole

Multicolor Bird

Nude Rat

Orange Bird

Orange Fox

Orange Frog

Owl

Pangolin

Pheasant

Pink Cockatoo

Piper Bird

Possum

Pigeon

Quero-Quero Bird

Raccoon

Raven

Red-Eyed

Red Fox

Red Frog

Red Head White Cardeal

Red Lizard

Red Panda

Red Macaw

Red-crowned Crane

Rooster

Scissor White Bird

Sea Parrot Bird

Seagull

Silver Pigeon

Skunk

Snake

Sparrow

Spiny Lizard

Stork

Striped Lizard

Swallow Bird

Toco Toucan

Tortoise

Vulture Bird

White Bunny

White Cockatoo Bird

White Diving Bird

White Fox

White Goose

White Hen

White Monkey

White Owl

White Pelican Bird

White Piper Bird

White Rat

White Squirrel

White Swan

Wild Rabbit

Woodpecker

Yellow Lizard

Yellow Parakeet

Yellow Pelican Bird

Yellow Toucan

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If you have any questions, leave them in the comments and I will add them to this post!