Uhmmmm, like, guys? What are these things? After I’m done playing with these balls can I play with your balls?
Soon enough. Anyway, the league decided to offer an additional award to the winner of the Men’s Masters tournament this year. But, I suppose we could do some quality control first.
I hunted through my blog so you didn’t have to! Below you will find a story catalog. How to send asks. And a few bonus content I thought you would enjoy! I will try to edit this and update it as new stories come out. The Best Way to make sure the story you love is continued is to comment and ask for more!
Story Catalog
Imagine You’re A Young Princess (Completed!) Posted On Imagine You’re Pregnant; but I am the Author. I now post things on my blog first then submit them to Imagine.
Anonymous Asks : This is how you can get in touch with me.
I don’t know what to ask? Try one of these! Please include the Question when you ask. Birth fetish ask meme 100 NSFW Questions Ask Meme Kinky Asks Kink-mas Asks I also Accept prompts, but keep in mind, Those take much longer to fulfill, and I may not find the inspiration to fill them.
Other stories: on my Blog that Were not written by me, but I love them!
Reginald just couldn’t catch a break. 64 and alone, he tried everything to retain his youth and try to find love. Tattoos, youthful clothes, hanging around the places the young studs frequent. But it was hopeless, why would anyone even give him the time of day when the hot young guys, for which he lusts for, have an endless stream of 10s on Grindr, Tinder and Instagram, for the fucking.
So it was like a cruel joke when, while out on the town, a cute young guy actually returned his gaze, only for him to then and there feel a sharp pain in his chest and keel over from a heat attack.
When Reginald awoke, he was surrounded by flames and the screams of dammed souls. Infront of him stood the devil, taking on the temping form of a young stud, seeming to specifically infuriate him.
-“What a sad yet sinful live you have lived Reginald…”
“I…”
-“Silence! I know everything, and have seen your heart. I need not for you to speak. I have an offer for you. Your soul is already dammed… But I can give you a chance to live the life you have always wanted… Be lusted over and adored by the men who always ignored you. To fuck anyone you want, and to have the virility to do it when even, how ever and for however long you want. Interested? ”
Reginald was speechless, he grew up in a religious household had heard of the tales warning against making deals with the devil… but he wanted it… he wanted it so bad… whatever the cost…
-“Excellent! You will be my next apple, but in your current form you are hopeless. I will return you to Earth in your 30s and I want you to lay with men. For each man you tempt, I will bestow on you all the virility, the youth and the physical temptations of your victims, for you to lure more men into handing their soul to me.”
-“Now be gone with you!”
Before he could even think, Reginald was now back in the very location he had, just moments ago, dies of a heart attack. Except he was not a frail 65 year old man but back in his 30s. He was still no looker, but he knew that could be fixed.
He looked over to where the cute guy was before he died and he saw him there, still returning his gaze as if nothing had happened. With some newfound confidence Reginald, or Reggie as he was now known, came up to the guy and asked him out on a date.
It wasn’t long before they were back at Reggie’s place, and fucking like rabbits. It had been years since Reggie’s cock had been this hard, and he had never been able to fuck like he could now. The cute guy he picked up was soon moaning for Regie to fuck him harder, to blow his load inside him and make him his bitch. It wasn’t long before he got his wish. Reggie’s balls soon clenched and blew the fattest load he had ever thought possible, and it just kept on coming. After what felt like 10 minutes and an entire liter of cum later, Reggie collapsed and immediately blacked out.
When he awoke, the guy was gone without a trace. No clothes, no signs of the fuck fest he had just partaken in, like he never had existed. Reggie however, felt great. Hopping out of bed, he ran to the mirror and looking back at him was him, but perhaps a few years younger and after a few years in the gym. He actually had some muscle tone, where once there was only flab.
He soon felt a vibration in his pocket and pulled out an unfamiliar smartphone. Despite having never used one before, his fingers automatically typed in the password and pulled up Grindr.
New Messages
“Fuck, in gonna enjoy this…”
6 months later.
Reggie pulls out his smartphone and snaps a pic for his 10 million Instagram followers.
“An alphas hard work shows, and there is more to see at my OnlyFans” the caption reads.
Immediately, hundreds of likes and comments roll in. All his adoring fans thirsty for his body, and begging for him to fuck them. He watches his subscriber count on OF tick up one by one, him now pulling over $12k a month to show off his monster muscles and massive 15 inch horse cock.
Half the cites men were gone, but he couldn’t care less. He could new get any man in the world, by simply looking in their direction, to reduce themselves to his personal fuck toy and then fuel for his continued youth, virility and growth.
His powers had also grown, now he could control when the men he fucked were ultimately doomed and disappeared from reality. This was good as the conquests he let go, after fucking them for several hours straight and filling their holes with dozens of loads, would spread the news of the most virile alpha in existence.
The devil, for his part, did come thorough. Reggie would fuck for days straight without stop, having a never ending stream of men come in about out of if sex den, and yet he would never get tired, never go soft, never run out of jizz, and never stop feeling the ecstasy of cumming gallons into the holes of every man alive.
With all the money he was pulling in from the simps and cash fags, he was able to afford a huge mansion which he filled with his personal harem of the hottest men alive. All living to only serve his every whim and his inhuman libido.
Despite having been a dammed soul, Reggie was now living in heaven on earth.
“Who says never make a deal with the Devil” he chuckles to himself, as he plunges his rock hard dripping horse cock, balls deep into the hole of his latest fuck and unleashing his 20th load of the morning.
Summary: Witches were the only magical beings capable of binding and controlling demons. It required a complicated ritual and crazy amounts of magic.
It happening on accident was practically unheard of until Phil came along and got tangled up with a snarky and dangerous demon named Dan. Suddenly bound together, Phil must grapple with control over a chaotic demon that wants to strip the skin from his bones.
And maybe strip the clothes off of his body as well.
Word count:+100k
Rating:E - see notes on each chapter for specific warnings.
Tags:Enemies to lovers, witch!Phil, incubus!Dan, demon summoning and deals, magical bond, forced cohabitation, angst with happy ending.
A/N: I want to say a big thank you to @oldschoolpbb for arranging this again this year, and I’m proud to have my work actually completed this time around. So much thanks also goes to my beta Alexis from ospbb, who helped improve the fic and to my artist @hiwatari-art who has created some incredible and stunning art pieces to accompany the fic.
This work is completed and there will be new updates every three days!
Summary:Namjoon started to feel like a fraud, despite the many song writing credtis to his name or awards in his studio. After a decade of music making, he feelsburned out and lost. He runs into Min Yoongi, a fellow producer, who seems to understand Namjoon like no one else ever has before.
Their first meeting happens by chance and as does them making music together. But it is not chance that keep them in each other’s life after that. It’s choice.
Tags:Namgi, Producers AU, strangers to friends to lovers, lost in life, song writing
Chapter summary: Namjoon realised that he hadn’t been writing music for himself for quite a while. He’d been too busy and too numb to create music that was entirely his own. He’d been excited to show Yoongi, but before he got the chance their friends had started a scheming plan of forcing them to finally confess. Nothing went according to plan.
Summary:Jisung was weak to hot guys, he would be the first one to admit it, but he was even weaker for hot guys who were also smart and kind and approved by his friends. Lee Minho walked through the door and Jisung didn’t stand a chance. As if pining wasn’t enough of a distraction, Jisung also feared that his little adored work family was coming apart. He wanted nothing more than to keep them together, and perhaps to get Minho to join as well.
A/N: I got this idea after watching SKZ’s Chocolate Factory and it grew much longer than I anticipated. Still, I had a lot of fun with it. Thank you to @throwing-roses-into-the-abyss for coming to help me with a last minute beta, it was much appreciated! Please enjoy my very first minsung fic!
Summary: It had been a silly dream at first. The idea to have a cherry blossom tree in their garden they didn’t even have yet. It hadn’t felt like it was something that would really happen.But it was real. Dan was watching their tree, Phil’s arms around him, and hoping they would get to see its first bloom soon.
Word count: 4.2k
No warnings apply
Tags: Established relationship, 2022!phan, domestic fluff, cherry blossom in their forever home’s garden
A/N: I am still such a phannie at heart so two joint selfies with a domestic sentiment, and I have written over 4k about these boys in less than three hours. Enjoy! Thank you to @jorzuela for the nudge to embrace the urge to write this. Also, this isn’t edited at all.
It still felt surreal sometimes. They owned a house. It felt like they had spent so long just waiting to be able to move into their new home and one thing after another had delayed them. Perhaps it had felt like so long because it had been a day that they’d both dreamed about for so long.
They had always made their flats their home too. From Dan coming to crash Phil’s first own apartment, the Manchester flat, the first London flat and the second two combined flats that had always been meant to be a temporary overlay. They’d had their sights on a house already back then but it took time. So much time.
Dan could still remember the throwaway line he’d said in a live show back when they’d moved into the second London space. It wasn’t a forever home. He’d not quite counted on everyone embracing that they were definitely going to move into a forever home next but he couldn’t say that he minded it much.
He quite liked the ring of it.
A forever home with his forever man.
Though he wasn’t sure if the home would last forever but it was built to last and suit them for a very long time. It was going to be theirs in a way that the flats had never been. They had a hand in practically aspect of the design and they’d gotten it tailored to their exact tastes.
And even if the home turned out not to house them forever then that would be alright too, because they’d have a home in each other forever anyway.
It had been both fun and stressful to finally be able to move in. For the first time ever, it felt like they finally had space for all of their stuff. They had the bright lighting, the floor to ceiling windows that Phil had so desperately wanted. Dan had teased him relentlessly about his old slip of the tongue about making all the windows glass.
One thing that hadn’t changed in their decorating style was the hint of nostalgia and the memories literally being hung on the walls. One of Dan’s favourites was the painting done by Phil’s father. Often when he walked past it, he just liked to stop and appreciate it and let him dwell on the memories when the photo it was based on was taken.
Japan would always be a special place for them, in particularly because of that second trip. Dan couldn’t even think about it without smiling. It had been so perfect and wonderful and he treasured it greatly. He never wanted anything to taint that memory, if he could, he’d hang it up in the middle of their living room to be reminded of it every day.
Perhaps that was why he’d started to look for a cherry blossom tree for the garden. The house had taken priority since they did spend most of their time inside but both him and Phil were also so excited to have a garden. They could walk outside and they could feel grass under their feet! Though Dan argued that Phil was weird for enjoying that feeling so much, which had resulted in Phil actually tackling Dan onto the grass.
Dan hoped they’d never be too old to play around like that. Maybe they just had to be careful of their hips as they became grey and old.
“You’re lost in your head again,” Phil said, coming up behind Dan.
Dan hummed in agreement. A moment later, he was given a glass of water by Phil. Once Phil’s arms were free, he wrapped them around Dan, hooking his chin over his shoulder and following his gaze out into the garden.
Last year, after much trouble and more money than Dan would willingly admit, they’d gotten a cherry blossom tree specially ordered and transported into their garden. Dan had watched it like a hawk first, terrified that the poor tree would be too traumatised by the move to properly grow in their garden. He’d even researched soil composition to make sure it had the best shot of settling in here. Phil had been absolutely endeared by him, joking that it was like the aquarium and oxygen cycles all over.
It had paid off though. The tree had been doing well. They had gotten a slightly older one, already slightly taller than him and Phil when it had been planted but it had grown since last year. Slowly but surely the branches had reached out and up. Dan only hoped that the roots had done the same in reverse, digging in firmly and surely.
Dan had felt like him and Phil were a little bit like the tree. Uprooted into a new environment and meant to put down their roots again, to learn every little nook and cranny of their new home. It had been so exciting but also a little overwhelming. They’d never been homeowners like this before. If something broke, they had to figure out how to fix it or at least who to call to fix it. None of them was exactly good at that kind of stuff, so they mostly did the latter. It still beat having a landlord who’d take all their money and still take ages to act on the complaints.
Dan sighed and leaned all of his weight back against Phil. Phil could easily hold him. He’d learned to hold him years and years ago, and he’d only gotten better with practice. Some days, Dan was sure he’d made his own little spot within Phil’s arms and he likewise had that space for Phil in his own. Like an old worn leather chair moulded to an ass. Phil had laughed at that comparison and sarcastically called him romantic.
“You think it’ll bloom?” Dan asked, watching through the window.
It was too early to ask. Dan knew that. The new year had only just started. It would be a couple of months at least, maybe more. Maybe, it wouldn’t even bloom this season. It could have been still adjusting.
Maybe its roots were not as strong as his and Phil. It would be fair if that was the case. They had each other while the tree was all alone. Maybe they should have gotten it a pal.
“One tree is more than enough,” Phil said, his breath warm on Dan’s neck.
Dan hadn’t realised that he’d been speaking out loud. He let out a chuckle all the same.
“But what if the tree is lonely and won’t bloom?” Dan whined, dramatically just because he could.
“Easy, it can make friends with all the other plants and stuff out there. Plenty of friends to go around!” Phil said, laughing at Dan. Well, laughing with him was more like it.
Phil wasn’t wrong. The cherry blossom tree was joined by a lot of their other purchases too. They had gone a little crazy last year when it came to stocking up the garden. Dan just hoped most of the stuff would survive the rest of the winter.
“Yeah, but it’s the centrepiece,” Dan said, letting his eyes rest on the tree and its bare branches.
It wasn’t just that. It was the memories. Everything unsaid that was implied by it and its connection to Japan and their trip. It was also the hope for the future. To be able to see the tree grow and flourish in their garden. To be able to sit under it ten, twenty or thirty years from now and remember when it had been planted and they waited for its first bloom.
To remember this moment, standing in front of their big window, glancing into the garden, bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces, and hoping for the bloom.
Dan kept careful watch over the next couple of months. He also tried some app that could supposedly measure a tree’s growth just by you scanning it, which didn’t work at all. One time, he did make Phil help him drag out their ladder and hold it up next to the tree and make a little notch how tall it was into the ladder itself. It was still wild that they had a shed with a ladder. How very weird and grown up.
January passed quickly as it often did. Maybe because it was the first month of a new year or maybe because it was Phil’s birthday month and they had to do a million different celebrations of it. Dan was the only constant one. The family, this friend group, that friend group, those colleagues. Dan somehow fit into every category and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
They also had their own little private celebration of Phil, of course. He deserved to be worshipped and loved on and Dan was more than happy to oblige. Once he’d thought of that old saying, happy wife, happy life and he’d always found it a little cliché. Maybe because he’d often heard husbands’ kind of grumble it as an excuse to indulge their wives.
There was nothing Dan loved more than making Phil happy though. It was one of his favourite things in the world. He’d crack jokes for his ears only, just to see him smile, or he’d tease him and poke his buttons to get him to pay attention, or he’d do something sweet and thoughtful. Like the cherry blossom tree.
Phil was the one who’d mentioned it originally when they’d talked about all they would want in their dream house. They were in a very fortunate position to being able to afford to have a lot of those things. It was a luxury that they did not take for granted but they did also want to use their privilege to fill their days with things that brought them joy.
The cherry blossom was Dan’s pet project but it was also Phil’s baby. Dan caught Phil sometimes coming into the garden, just nipping out without a jacket even in the cold, just to go touch the tree and whisper something to it. He’d then come running in and warm his hands under Dan’s shirt, ignoring Dan’s loud protests. Perhaps because the protests didn’t last long and Dan soon wrapped his arms around Phil trying to warm him up faster.
February was a short month but it felt like it dragged on. It was still weird to be working on stuff that couldn’t yet see the light of day immediately after having made it. Sometimes, Dan missed the days where he’d have an idea, film, edit and get it uploaded within a week. It had been a simpler time, but he also liked working on bigger projects and perfecting them. And all the plans were brewing under the surface and he hoped they’d come with the spring too.
In the meantime, he watched the cherry blossom. It continued to grow, little bit by bit, and Dan kept looking for the little flower buds. He got very, very excited when he started to spot them. It still didn’t mean they’d bloom and open but he could only hope that his patience would be rewarded. He’d asked of so much patience from others, telling them to wait and something amazing would come along and he only could hope that this would be the case too.
The light was coming back too, days getting longer and weather getting warmer. Him and Phil were excited for when they could finally come out into the garden all the time. They might still be indoor people at heart but this outside space was part of their home too and Dan wanted to hang out in it.
“I think it’s going to bloom this season,” Dan told Phil excitedly after he was sure he’d seen the flower buds start to grow in on the branches.
“Did you doubt that?” Phil asked, taking a sip of his coffee and leaning back against the counter.
“There was a risk that it wouldn’t. It hasn’t been that long since it moved. Even if we tried to do everything right for it, we couldn’t make it bloom if it didn’t want to. But I think it will.”
“Maybe you have green fingers then,” Phil said, smile tugging at his lips.
“Or maybe you whispered magic into it on your little trips,” Dan countered.
“You don’t believe in magic,” Phil said, pushing off the counter and going to boop Dan right on the nose.
Dan froze under the touch, gaping at Phil for a second before he broke into a bright smile. Laughter bubbled up so easily. But two could play this game. Both of them had lots of practice, over a decade by now.
“True, I don’t believe in magic,” Dan said, reaching over to pluck Phil’s mug from his hand and setting it on the counter. “But I do believe in you,” he added, voice sugary sweet and he let his word register and make a smile bloom on Phil’s face, before Dan proceeded to nearly knock him over with a hug.
Their laughter sounded loudly in their home but they could be as loud as they wanted here. There were no near neighbours just on the other side of the wall who could file a noise complaint on them. They could just be here, loudly and happy in love and it was alright. It was theirs.
Dan was the most excited for March to start, even if he knew there was a chance it might not bloom until April or even May. It was the first month of spring and some days Phil swore he could literally smell spring in the air. He wasn’t really clear on what exactly the smell was when Dan had asked him about it.
Something about freshness and flowers. Dan had joked that Phil should make that the scent of his next candle. It had been a joke but Phil had gotten that look in his eye, so Dan wouldn’t be surprised if it ended up being some sort of inspiration.
Every morning in March, one of the first things that Dan would do when he woke up was to go check on the cherry blossom. The first few days there was no change, though Dan swore he could see that the blubs looked bigger, ready to open and bloom any moment. It took nearly a full week until the first one came through.
Dan might have dramatically gasped, standing at the window and then promptly jumping into his garden slippers and rushing out into the garden to see properly and make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.
Phil called out for him from inside of the house but Dan walked with single minded determination. He’d stepped out without a jacket too, just like he usually teased Phil about and the breeze was cold cutting through just his long T-shirt but he didn’t care. He’d seen something pink up there on the branch and he wanted to check.
He paused, looked and smiled.
The first bloom. The first flower of their first season on their first tree. Dan quickly ran back into the house to grab both Phil and his phone. He made Phil pose in front of it, point excitedly up towards the tiny flower.
“Should we grab it and like press and save it?” Phil asked, as Dan scrolled through the photos.
“I’m not sure if it would last and it’s almost a shame, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but isn’t the season that they’re in bloom terribly short? Like a couple of weeks?”
“Yeah,” Dan said, looking at their tree and its one flower and the many that would hopefully soon follow it. “But that makes it special, doesn’t it? And it should come back next year. And the year after that and the year after that and-”
“-the year after that?” Phil continued, chuckling. “How many times were you going to keep going?”
“What? You only expect to live here four years? Forget about it, Lester. We’re co-owners. You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Dan raised, raising his chin like in challenge and taking a fighting stance raising his hands like he was about to box. “I’ll fight you if I have too.”
“You wouldn’t have to. I’d surrender,” Phil said, hands going to close over Dan’s fists and making him lower them. As he did so, Phil instead intertwined their fingers and smiled at Dan.
“Good. Because four is nowhere near enough. Maybe like times ten.”
“Four decades?” Phil asked with a soft laugh. “You know how old, we’d be then. We’d would be-”
“Old,” Dan said, using their connected hands to pull Phil close to his face. Just close enough that he could brush his lips over Phil’s in a chaste kiss. “Old and in love.”
Phil smiled and dropped one of Dan’s hands to grab him by the neck and pull him into a proper kiss. Dan could hardly concentrate on kissing back; he was too busy smiling.
The next few days were very exciting. Dan found that he was actually getting up a little earlier in the morning and also stepping out into the garden more often than usual. One day around noon, him and Phil had also gone out to sit at their table with mugs of hot drinks to just watch and see if they could see any of the flowers bloom in real time.
There were so many now. Dan had kept count on the first and second day but he had to give up after that. It was a glorious defeat because there were simply too many to count. Dan was impressed that they all could just bloom so damn fast, branches soon becoming more pink than green and brown.
It truly felt like they’d taken a little piece of the Japan trip home with them and planted it in their garden. It felt surreal that this was a real thing. When Phil had said that out loud, Dan had pinched him which in turn made Phil pinch Dan. They’d bantered and squatted at each other while sporting big smiles. It was definitely real.
They took so many photos of the tree and the flowers. It was not unusual for them to fill up their camera rolls with loads of similar pictures but this was a new one. They could do several long swipes of their fingers and still not get out of the pink flowers.
The weather also decided to improve. The sun came out more and it carried warmth with it now. It felt like a new beginning. Like the winter had been so long and yet there was hope for spring at the end of it.
A chance to bloom again.
“Are we going to do the picnic thing?” Phil asked, one morning when they were both at their big windows again, looking into the garden. “Like while the flowers are still all on the tree and not fallen into our garden.”
“I bet that will look pretty cool though, imagine a soft dusting of pink flower petals all over the grass. Tell me that won’t look cute.”
“I see that I am aiming you with the rake this time,” Phil said with a chuckle.
Dan let out a snort. “Sure, I don’t mind.”
It was the truth. A garden took a lot to maintain at least while everything was growing and blooming but Dan had found it kind of fun. It was like a massive version of his small terrariums. Granted, they also got help to cut the hedges and stuff. Dan and Phil had promptly agreed that neither of them should be around such big strong equipment with sharp edges because it would only end in disaster.
“Picnic?” Phil asked.
Dan took a look at the flowers. Phil was right that they shouldn’t miss out on having a picnic under the tree while it was at its peak bloom wise. It was safer to do it a little earlier than a little too late.
“Tomorrow?” Dan replied.
“Deal,” Phil said with a smile.
And that was how a completely ordinary Monday in the middle of March became a very special memory for Dan and Phil. They had ordered food from their favourite Japanese restaurant, which didn’t taste as good as it had in Japan but it was still very nice. Their little tree didn’t look at impressive or grand as the trees they’d seen in Japan either but Dan found that he liked this tree much better.
It was theirs. It was not located far away or surrounded by tourists hoping to catch a glimpse of the pretty flowers. They were lucky to have a private spot under their own cherry blossom in their own garden belonging to their forever home.
If Dan let himself dwell on it too much he might actually tear up.
They had their own little hanami picnic under the sunshine and the gentle breeze. The blue sky was above them and their eyes crept crinkling as they couldn’t stop laughing or smiling. It was the perfect time to reminisce about their Japan trip, recount all their favourite memories with each other.
It was one of the beautiful things with their relationship. They could remember and appreciate the past, hold it dear and treasure it, but they didn’t live in the past. They always planned for making more new memories with each other. Still, every past version of themselves were responsible for where they were today and they had it pretty damn good.
In that moment, Dan wondered what his eighteen-year-old self would have thought if he’d been told this was his future. A beautiful and loving man at his side, their own home, over a decade of loving memories behind them already and so much hope for what the future would bring.
Dan had never been happier.
“I’m so happy,” he said out loud, speaking it into the air about him but turning his eyes to look as Phil as he said it.
Phil hummed, deep in his throat and scooted closer to Dan on the picnic blanket they’d laid out on their grass. He snuggled up next to him and rested his head on Dan’s shoulder. The warmth was instantaneous and the touch and comfort spoke volumes even if Phil didn’t say a word.
Dan looked at Phil, eyes closed in contentment and face just radiating happiness.
He hoped this memory would be another one that they’d remember for years and years to come.
To help capture the moment, they of course had to take selfies with the tree. It took a little coordination to get all three of them into the same frame properly but the results were so worth it. Dan had grabbed Phil’s phone to take the photos, the designated photographer of their joint selfies.
They had so so many. They didn’t share a lot of them these days. They kept them for their own eyes only. Phil had made an actual physical photo album of all the 2021 ones that he’d gifted to Dan on Christmas and Dan had almost cried.
Dan looked at these ones, the clear happiness in their faces. They looked older now than back when they’d first posed with a cherry blossom tree back during the first Japan trip. It made sense; it was over half a decade ago by now. However, while they’d grown older, they also looked better.
Happiness really did wonders.
Coming out and dealing with their mental health had probably also helped. They were much stronger now, as well as happier. In the laugh lines around their eyes, Dan felt like he could see their history. The lines had been formed into their skin because they had shared so many laughs and smiles together. They were only going to get deeper as time went on.
“We should post them,” Phil said, taking his phone from Dan’s hands.
“All of them?” Dan joked, looking at the over thirty photos they’d just snapped.
“No,” Phil said with a fond eye roll, as he started scrolling through the photos one by one. “The best ones. The ones where we look the happiest.”
He said it so casually that it had no business punching Dan in the gut like it did. Dan put a hand on top of Phil’s, stopping his scrolling with a light touch. Phil looked up to meet Dan’s eyes.
He was so beautiful, from the inside out, and the most incredible part was that he could see the same adoration he knew was in his own eyes reflected in Phil. Oh, he had been right as an emo teenager. The greatest thing you’ll ever learn, is just to love, and be loved in return.
“Let’s look through them tonight and decide which ones to post,” Dan said. “For now, let’s just… sit here and look at our tree, yeah?”
Phil immediately put the phone away. They ended up pushing their empty food containers out onto the grass and lying down, arm in arm. It was slightly too cold for this but they felt warm next to each other.
It was the first bloom of their cherry blossom tree but they would have so many more. They couldn’t wait to make more memories like this.
Winter is not mild at the University of Abilities.
I muttered obscenities at the falling snow and clouds as I trudged through the snow after a long Friday afternoon of classes. The placement of UofA in the Midwest was supposed to be a gesture of centrality, a statement that the school would be the premier facility in the nation for the education of individuals with abilities. And that it was; UofA had succeeded beyond wildest expectations in the decade it had been open.
But it was cold. And I’m from California.
There was an upside to the frigid January weather, however: it made for great house parties. Rather than be spread out over barbecues and other outdoor events, those students that liked to party descended upon a select few houses every weekend for absurd amounts of revelry. I discovered this “tradition” my freshman year, and, as a sophomore, I and three of my friends landed a lease for one of these party houses. Finally, as juniors, we were throwing our first winter bash.
Hundreds were invited, from freshman to seniors, but there was only one person I was excited to see: Gim Allon, or as the media had taken to calling him, Colossal Boy. Gim was a transfer from a small private school on the East Coast, and he had already caused quite a stir in the campus social scene, for a few reasons. The first was that he was stupidly, unfairly, impossibly hot. Taken from the same mold as Liam Hemsworth, this kid radiated attractiveness. The second reason exacerbated the first: his ability was quite a show-stopper. Simply put, Gim could grow. It was common to see his head poking above the trees of the wooded UofA campus during training class and to hear his footfalls softly thundering across the quad. During move-in weekend, he helped freshmen on the upper floors of his dorm move their furniture in, by passing it through their windows. Because of this, it didn’t take long for the entire campus to be familiar with his adorable face. The third reason was the linchpin: though Gim had been a student at UofA for over a semester now, no one had ever seen him at a party or bar. He was completely absent from campus nightlife, and no one knew why. This made his rumored attendance at my party tonight an incredibly rare occurrence.
Though my mutual friends assured me that he was indeed coming, I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I busied myself with cleaning while my some of roommates picked up the kegs, and the time inched by toward 9pm, the starting time of the party. Every 15 minutes I would pull out my phone and check the Facebook event, frantically scrolling through the “Attending” list. It wasn’t as high as I would have liked, but hey, it was our first party. Each time, Gim’s name was absent, and I sighed.
My latest sigh prompted a snigger from Luke, one of my roommates, who had emerged from the shower. I flashed him a glare.
“He’s coming, alright? I confirmed it with Natalie this morning”, Luke said. I slumped in defeat.
“That obvious, huh?” I had been nervous to come out to my roommates at a military-minded school like UofA, but I needn’t have worried; Luke, Rob, and Josh had become incredibly dedicated wingmen, since each of them had girlfriends and were sad that I was being left out of their absurd triple-dates. In fact, I had them to thank for Gim’s alleged attendance tonight: I had drunkedly confessed my infatuation to Josh, and he and the guys secretly plotted for Gim to be at the party. I didn’t know how they did it, but I was incredibly thankful. The thing was, I didn’t even know if Gim was gay. I had one friend who swore that he was, but all he had to go on was that he hadn’t dated any girls yet. I brushed the thought aside, yet again, and pocketed my phone.
The first guests arrived shortly after. The first retinue was the girlfriends, of course, gliding and dazzling (literally, one of them can fly and another manipulates light) into the room armed with wine. I had to hand it to my roommates, they each had incredibly beautiful girlfriends. And nice, too. I fought off the pangs of loneliness as each embraced their significant other, and began cleaning an already pristine glass. Over the next few minutes, some of the closest members of the gang arrived, and slowly the party began to bustle.
At 9:15, the doorbell rang again, and I opened it absent-mindedly, assuming it was Jill, or Joe, or William, or whoever else, but it wasn’t.
It was him.
There were two others beside him, but I barely even noticed them. He was tall (duh), probably 6'4" at least, wearing a button down and dark jeans under a warm black coat. I found myself at eye level with his chin. He was looking down on me with a soft smile, and I had to crane my neck slightly to make eye contact because he was standing right in front of me, at the threshold of the front door. Part of me wanted to just stay there. Thankfully, while the lower functions of my brain went haywire, years of socialization allowed me to take charge of the situation with poise.
“Welcome!” I greeted warmly as I took a step back and gestured the trio inside, out of the increasingly snowy evening. The weather was picking up in intensity. I attempted to play the part of host:
“I can take your coats; beer is in the garage, wine in the kitchen, bathroom down the hall next to my bedroom. Enjoy the party!”
The two girls immediately thrust their coats upon me with a smile, one making a dash for the bathroom and the other for the wine. Gim took a slower approach.
“Hey, I’m Gim,” he said modestly, offering a hand. I struggled to extricate a hand from the mountain of girl-coat that had descended upon me, and I flailed a hand toward him while saying with probably too much enthusiasm, “Nice to meet you, Gim! I’m James.”
As he pulled off his coat, he eyed me struggling to contain these absurd garments. My six-foot-tall self should not have had a problem with these coats, but for some reason, my extremities were hardly behaving. I needed a beer.
“Here,” Gim said with a laugh. “I’ll take mine to the coat room.”
“Thanks,” I returned with a laugh, “Follow me.”
The coat room was Rob’s bedroom, which was right across the hall from mine. Gim and I exchanged the standard college introduction as we walked down the hall, threw the coats into the corner of the room, and headed back to the living room. The hallway wasn’t very wide, and Gim and I were shoulder-to-shoulder the whole walk. Well, more like shoulder to bicep. We were met there by Josh, Luke, and their girlfriends, who immediately introduced themselves to Gim. Each of them shot me a mischievous glance as they shook hands with Gim. I silently thanked them for baptizing Gim into the party smoothly, and then noticed that my throat had gone dry in the minute of introductions during which I had been silent.
“Want a drink?” I asked, turning to Gim. The rest of the circle of friends already had red cups in hand.
“Nah, I probably shouldn’t,” Gim replied, looking down in a small gesture of embarrassment.
“What!? Why not? The beer’s actually pretty good!” My roommates nodded enthusiastically, gesturing with their cups.
“No, no, it’s not that. Alcohol, uh… It messes with my powers,” Gim said with a sigh. I was intrigued. More than intrigued: a thousand fantasies rushed across my eyes, and I may have involuntarily shivered a bit, but I pressed on.
“How so? I’m sure all of us have done stupid shit with our abilities when drunk.” Again my roommates nodded enthusiastically, the girlfriends joining in. They’re the best.
“Yeah?” Gim perked up a bit. “Sorry, I haven’t done much drinking at UofA yet. Well, when I drink alcohol, my body responds as if I were poisoned, and I grow to dilute the effects. It doesn’t even work; I still get drunk, it just takes a bit more than normal. I can’t shrink back until I’m sober.”
Luke started cracking up; he’d already had a few drinks. “Dude, that’s nothing. When I first got drunk I blew a hole in the roof of the dorm, and Josh’s girlfriend nearly destroyed space-time. How big we talking?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“Not that bad; like a foot per drink. I’ve just been a little nervous to get drunk. At my last school I fell on a kid and put him in the hospital.”
“Relax,” Josh said, reaching up to put a hand on Gim’s shoulder. “This house is full of super-powered kids. We’ll cut you off if it becomes a problem.”
No one else seemed to be reeling from the math Gim just unveiled. A foot per drink!? Good Lord.
“Beer pong?” Luke offered. “Josh and Gim vs. James and me?” I smiled, shook away my daydreams, and nodded vigorously.
“Uh, sure,” Gim said sheepishly. “But I should go back and get my suit. I don’t want to rip my clothes up.”
I had to turn away to hide my red face. Luke covered for me, though he was hardly subtle.
“Nah, man, that’s fine! If there isn’t a little skin showing at the end of a night of partying, it was a lame party. Plus your dorm is like a half hour away! Don’t waste that time just for modesty.”
“But James could just–” Josh began, but Luke cut him off.
“Let’s get started!”
—————–
We cleared the kitchen table and set up the cups. Spare ping pong balls were placed next to the sink. Luke and I lined up on one side of the table, Gim and Josh on the other. Josh, standing only 5'7", looked comically short next to the imposing Gim. The cups were filled generously with beer, and the game began.
It was decided that we would go first. Luke, who is a very good beer pong player, casually lined up his shot, and sank the cup at the tip of the pyramid. Josh took the cup and drained it. I sighed in anticipation. It was my turn to shoot.
Miss.
Josh and Gim both missed their first shots too. Gim looked embarrassed, but Josh assured him that he was just warming up.
As the balls came rolling back to our side of the table, I picked mine up with slightly trembling hands. Luke patted me on the back with a chuckle as I lined up my shot. I made eye contact with Gim, and without breaking it released the ball.
Plop! The ball landed in the cup closest to Gim. Gim looked to Josh, who gestured toward the cup. Gim gingerly picked up the cup, appraised its contents, and them smiled.
“Here goes!” And he drained the cup in a single gulp.
Luke, Josh and I raised our eyebrows to see what Gim was talking about. Nothing seemed to have happened. Luke sank his ball as well, which meant that we got to throw again. Luke sank his easily, and I, with determination, echoed my motions from last time. Eye contact with Gim, throw ball. Plop! I was very excited. Gim took the cup without any hesitation and drained it. He shook his head a bit as he lowered the cup from his mouth, beaming. He seemed to be having a great time, but where was the growth I was promised? I couldn’t tell if he was taller, and Josh was a terrible benchmark, since he was so much shorter already.
We lined up to take our third shot in a row. Luke lined up, but totally woofed it. The ball sailed over the table and hit against the back wall. This made me nervous. As I attempted to repeat my earlier success, I locked eyes with Gim again. Wait… were his ears at the level of the poster before? I could have sworn… The thought lingered in my mind as I released the ball.
Plop. Luke was ecstatic. “Dude, you are on fire!” he exclaimed. Turning to the far side of the table, he pointed at Gim. “Go on, drink two!” Gim looked confused. Josh turned to him and explained, “If someone gets three shots in a row, it counts for two cups.” Gim shot me a look (grin? glare?) and grabbed two cups in hand. He poured the first into the second and drained the second cup without a moment’s hesitation. As he put the cup down, I began to notice that the sleeves of his shirt no longer reached his wrist. I bent under the table to pick up Luke’s ball, which had rolled back to our side of the table, and I looked over to Gim’s legs. His pants now showed a good two inches of ankle. He was wearing low-cut socks. I couldn’t believe that it was working.
As I rose to my feet with the ping pong ball in hand, I was greeted with the sight of Gim unbuttoning one of his shirt buttons. Luke noticed as well. “Ah, feeling something, are we?” Gim smiled sheepishly. “Maybe a little?”
“A little!” Josh exclaimed. “Dude, you’ve grown like 3 inches.”
“More than that,” Gim said with the hint of a smile.
Luke suddenly gasped. “Wait just a second!” He dashed into the garage, leaving the rest of us confused. I couldn’t stop staring at the shirt that was now obviously too small on Gim. The sleeves were halfway to his elbows. As he reached down to loosen his belt, I watched the fabric stretch taut across his back. When he straightened up, I noticed that the door frame behind him seemed awfully close to his head.
Luke returned with a tape measure in hand. “Let’s get scientific!” he cried, as he unfurled the tape measure and put it up against the kitchen wall. He reached up to fasten the top of the tape measure to the ceiling, but he couldn’t reach. As he looked around for a chair, Gim stepped over.
“Here,” he said with a smile, as he took the tape measure and easily stuck it to the ceiling with some duct tape. He didn’t even have to fully extend his arms. He turned and put his back to the wall. “Well?” he inquired, still smiling.
He really seems to be enjoying this now, I thought to myself. I wonder…
Luke backed up, stood up on a chair, and squinted at the tape measure. “6'7”,“ he decreed. "Wait…” he said, as Gim straightened up. Or did he just grow some more? “6'8”. Wow!“ Gim gave a small bow as the small group of partygoers "oohed” and “ahhed”.
Gim eyed the door out to the garage. “Well, time to start ducking,” he said with a playful sigh, as he bent his head and stepped into the garage. He turned back, bent down a bit so he could see through the doorway, and looked at me.
“More beer?”
I smirked and eagerly followed him into the garage, where there were just a few other students, all of whom gawked at the tall man with undersized clothes. He approached the keg, but looked confused.
“Never used a keg before?” I asked with a laugh. “Here, bring your cup over here.” I grabbed his hand with the cup and moved it over to the keg. Man, those hands were big. It looked like he could put his hand around the cup and touch fingers on the other side. and I put the nozzle in his cup and began pumping the tap. “So far so good?”
“Yeah man, this is awesome!” Gim was beaming. “Thanks so much for letting me come to the party!”
Gim’s cup was full. I gestured for him to take over pumping as I placed the nozzle within my own cup. I had barely had anything to drink. As he pulled and pushed the tap, I noticed those sleeves, which seemed to be even higher than before.
“So, no more shrinking for you?” I asked. “Let’s see,” Gim replied after my cup was filled. Gim took a step away from the keg and closed his eyes, concentrating. “Nope. I’m only going up tonight, it seems. I bet I could eventually learn how to shrink down when drunk, but it’s like suppressing your gag reflex: it takes practice.”
I did a double-take at this interesting choice of example. My wildest dreams again sprung to mind, but I wasn’t ready to play all my cards just yet. “Ah, gotcha. Well, I’m glad you haven’t practiced. This is fun!” With that, I turned to go back inside the house. Was that too obvious? Shit. I turned back to see a peculiar smile dash across Gim’s face before he followed me inside.
Gim promptly smacked his head against the doorframe. “Shit, I must not have ducked enough,” he remarked with a grimace as he straightened up inside the kitchen. Gim’s nose looked to be at the level of the door frame now, which meant that he had grown even more during our time in the garage. A measure confirmed this: “6'11” now, and you haven’t even drank any more!“ I stated with barely contained glee from atop the chair used to see the tape measure. Gim turned, and for once we were eye to eye. "Watch this,” he said with confidence, as he brought his full cup of beer to his lips. In four gulps, he drained it.
He gave an involuntary shudder as he finished the glass, and I watched his head creep up the wall. “7 feet now,” I said with a small laugh. He surged up again, and he had to resettle his feet because his stance had changed. “No, wait, 7'2”! That was a big one.“ Gim’s sleeves were almost at his elbows now, and the buttons of his shirt were strained across his toned chest. His shirt had ridden up so much so that his belly button was showing, with a little bit of happy trail. His pants were showing serious shin, and his belt was hanging from his waist unbuckled. Gim noticed me looking down and turned to me with a smirk. We were no longer eye-to-eye; once again, I was looking at his chin. "You haven’t seen big yet.” Whoa.
Those words caused me to take a step back, forgetting that I was still standing on the chair. I lurched backwards and began to fall. Gim’s arms shot out around me, catching me and bringing me close to his chest. Unfortunately, this sudden movement proved fatal for his shirt. All of the buttons ripped clean off, and the collar tore along the back. The upper sleeves tore a bit as well, revealing biceps that flexed in order to keep me from falling.
“You alright?” he said as he steadied me on the chair. “Here,” he said, as he picked me up by the armpits and placed me on the floor again. Now I was at eye level with his exposed sternum. Toned pecs peeked through the tattered shirt. He himself looked a little flushed. Thankfully, the kitchen was empty, so no one noticed our little episode. “Had a bit much to drink?” he said with a laugh. I almost replied, “You’re one to talk,” given his current state, but then I realized that I didn’t want to discourage his drinking. Sneaky me. Instead, I gestured up at him with my own glass (which amazingly hadn’t spilled), and said, “Cheers.”
Scene from the climax of Heart of Karis where Karis is fighting her father Zephyrus (who goes by the name Teryn in his corrupted form)
In true hero fashion she ends up beating his ass and using her magic to restore her dad to his original form but not without him facing consequences in the sequel
Dear Dad, Do you know what’s really wrong about teens? Everyone wants to be SOMEBODY and do something UNIQUE. And not like spooky-psycho-sick, but you know, POPULAR. So that everyone will double-tap, comment and follow it. I must have caught the wrong planet coz I really like to be nobody. I think it gives me like freedom to be all I want, not just what’s streaming. But anyway…
I dropped by Aidan’s the other day. He had his next absolutely *CRAZIEST IDEA* to paint his bedroom walls. And I don’t mean paint like cover it with one colour but draw a complete and utter masterpiece instead of using canvas as all normal painters do. I just caught him climbing the helluva stepladder to do the mountain tops and helped him stay there, not plop down and do the grass instead.
His mom Daffodil (well, actually Annella but nobody calls her that) got suddenly possessed, but not by devils, by LATIN PROVERBS. She kept telling how it was important to BE somebody, DO something, ANYTHING, but try and LIVE not just exist. ‘CARPE Diem, amica mia, carpe diem!’ she splashed out with a graceful swing of her hand. I had no idea what she wanted from me but I must have looked really boring and inexpressible coz the very next day she told Ma how really boring and inexpressible I looked. ‘My son is doing a full-sized mural,’ she said with a proud nod. ‘He enjoys his life and brings colours to it while some teens can only climb trees and fall down from them.’ *A glance my way* Ma was so furious. I thought she’d bring THE SKIES down to Vengeance Her Kin! But she only barked, ‘You’re right, Daff, some teens are true vandals, not like our darlings. You know, we’ve been fixing the pipes and our bathroom is such a mess. My talented little girl was just about to paint the shower tiles with dolphins and mermaids!’
I started laughing but choked on it when Ma dragged me to the first art-n-hobby shop around and then shut me in the bathroom one on one with the blasted wall. ‘If some Aidan Rossetti can do it, you surely can,’ she said lighting a joss stick of patchouli. ‘But Ma, Aidan was born with a brush in one hand, a guitar in the other, two right feet and a mouth full of languages! The best I can do is to draw a smiley on a stick,’ I protested. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! You’re a daughter of a witch. You can do anything. Now. Open your chakras, connect your spirit to the Space and bring it to life!’ She slapped my cheeks and shoulders to bring some of my blood back to life too and was off for her daily shot of terribly artless Poldark.
Dad, I sat there for HOURS, smudging paint by the cracked tiles. I cried, I laughed, I played with my cats and drew a Halloween make up on my face. I honestly tried to paint dolphins too but they suddenly turned into deeply troubled octopuses. And my mermaids have probably lived all their lives in Picasso seas. By the end of the day, all I wanted was to BURN THIS FRIGGED WALL and all the frigged house with it. Then RUN, RUN as fast, RUN as long as I could and only stop when somebody sees a painter’s brush in my hand and asks, ‘What is that for?’
When Ma came to check on my progress, hands on hips, she found it nice, though. ‘Oh, I love it, Carma! So spiritual and symbolic. I expected a sea theme but your pterodactyls look even better.’ ‘Ma, they are dolphins.’ ‘As you say, darling. Now, clean the mess and let it dry. The paint tube says, for three full days…’
Three days, DAD!!! I haven’t had a shower for THREE! DAYS! I didn’t think I’d ever take it home, though. Those monsters were truly creepy. I even had nightmares about them chasing me all the way to school. When Hecta saw them, she offered to film a horror flick in my bathroom. And when Aidan saw them, I thought he’d crack from laughing that loud.
Anyway, the funniest thing of it all is that I did have a shower there, just today. My usual steamy shower and you know what? That blasted paint just, peeled off.IT PEELED OFF MY GOD! Like drops of wax from a glass. Ma was off her rockers calling the shop and blaming all the dead and alive for selling her “fake snot” of paint. Then she bought me a chocolate cake to eat down the TRAGEDY but blimey, there’s no tragedy. I’m BEAMING! The tiles are clean, and I even have a cake for that. Yay!
Will write to you soon, Yours (so ordinary) Skipper
Woke up weightless and tickling with anticipation. Made a list of all things I’ll buy on my millions:
A dress made of live flowers that I will change every hour,
Tonnes of super healthy chocolates on stevia with all sorts of super exclusive ingredients named like something taken from the elven cookbooks,
A magic pony with a misty mane that will poo with pure diamonds,
A ticket to Hollywood where I will star in a romantic thriller with Timothee Chalamet who will fall head over heels in love with me.. but die unnoticed,
Another pot for Tom so he will transplant himself there and stop hogging my masterpieces ❀✿❁
We pinned the poster to the school bulletin board and waited for the miracle to happen. But nothing happened. Nobody seemed to be into my handmade artwork. Two classes later, Gideon passed by and said, ‘Is it a toilet pot?’ Ugh, my schoolmates are such philistines!
‘We don’t care what you’ll put there as long as you pay us twenty pounds,’ Hecta snapped. He gaggled like a troll. Nobody’s going to pay us a broken penny for that, he said. Indeed, nobody even asked what the ornament I put there meant! And it means something great. I forgot what exactly, but great nonetheless. Hecta checked the online boards — no likes, no comments.
Walked home like three stinky loosers. Hanged out at Carmina’s and had a witch’s brew for dinner (her ma cooks ONLY something tasting like dead spiders). I started crossing out flower dresses from my dream-list when Madame Burana set her owl eyes at my pot and cried, ‘Look at that stupendous ancient cauldron! Where did you get it?’ I opened my mouth to proudly declare my authorship when Carma fired, ‘Ai, ma, that piece of trash? We bought it from the flea market for fifty pounds. For storing… pencils.’ ‘A rarity like this? A trash? For pencils?’ she tsked. ‘Ignorant you bumkins, don’t you know that the ornament on it goes back to Queen Victoria times? You’re so lucky you got it THIS cheap.’ ‘If you like it, you can have it,’ Hecta offered looking absolutely chillaxed. And she gave us fifty-five pounds for my pot!
How do the trees get their leaves back? // Come tornano le foglie sugli alberi? is a short illustrated tale for preschool children. Available in English and Italian on Amazon (for Kindle readers) and Lulu (for general pdf download). Get your copy now!
Kaylah had happily been under the wing of Miss Jade for a long time now, taking her advice, clothing choices and routine changes to heart far more than anyone else she had ever encountered. Something about this woman simply kept drawing the girl back to the latex clad princess regardless of what she did. It felt divine to be posed as the perfect doll in whatever outfits she so desired, to be photographed, framed and idolised as a star piece of this woman’s collection. It had more than gotten past the point of wearing latex almost 24/7. Kaylah couldn’t have an outfit that didn’t have at least one latex garment be it a lovely set of gloves, a corset, a skirt.. anything she could get her hands on that would fit so nicely with the remining outfit. Her more recent work of trying to offer herself out was going somewhat well but something always felt a little off, as if she could be doing more, BETTER work for those she was offering her services to.
One evening, Kaylah found herself trying to put a new outfit together before she went out on the town once more. The most gorgeous white angelic looking top that filtered and framed her breasts so beautifully with lovely shimmering silk like flower design. Of course the latex found its way into the outfit, a small, darling perfect pink miniskirt that barely covered half of the girl’s thighs. If anything was going to grab a customer’s attention.. and yet, again it felt like something was missing. Of course she stumbled around with the thoughts in her head for a moment before contacting Miss Jade once again. She offered a simple solution that she knew would help change this doll into the perfectly poised lady of the night she wanted to be. The answer was within a package dropped at the girl’s door in minutes flat. In a rush to open it, she caught the glimpse of the woman that left it. Obscured, with light glimmering off an umbrella made of red latex, as that shining figure waltzed back off into the night, knowing it was the Latex Princess herself, squeaking away into the night.
Kaylah opened the box quickly, in such a rush to finish getting ready and inside lay a lovely piece of neckwear. A choker.. a collar? This pink matching that of her latex skirt held a small sliver clasp and a D-Ring at its front.. as if to be clipped, leashed.. tugged or led by someone.. The girl eagerly wrapped the thing around her neck, brushing her beautiful blonde hair aside to secure it around the back, fitting perfectly on the first try.. encompassing and clasping her neck tight, but not too tight. Kaylah eyed herself in the mirror and a smile crossed her plump pink made up lips and yet something still felt a little odd. She sat down in her chair and began to let her mind wander, thinking.. hoping as if something was going to happen.. and there she sat.. waiting.. and waiting..
The girl had almost given up hope of any more magic from the mistress when something seemed to change. The collar felt tighter, not around her neck though.. it was as if it was from within her own body. Her mind became invaded by thoughts.. some fleeting away, others gripping at the forefront of her mind and taking hold.. someone leading her by the collar, on her knees.. pinning her down to a bed.. pulling her around with such domineering force by this accessory. Just even contemplating these things was beginning to make this girl FLUSHED with lust. Rosy red cheeks as she imagined all of these things, closing her eyes to try and visualise it more vividly.. a client making use of her body however they wished.. groping her beautiful chest.. lifting her pink rubber skirt and spanking her rear with such force that made moan after moan escape this slut’s lips.. she was yearning for it.. craving to submit to these thoughts.. willing to be the prefect toy for her clients.. It was only then her eyes snapped open.. there was a note in Miss Jade’s gift box…
“My dear little doll. This collar should make you look like the barbie doll of anyone’s dreams. Once this little choker has attuned to your wonderful body, your thoughts won’t shift beyond anything related to pure submission to anyone who tugs on or leashes that lovely collar. You’ll be incapable of being anything but the most subservient little slut this town has ever seen. Completing your outfit, and your desires together in one. I do hope you enjoy it. No need to hit the streets tonight either. I booked a client for you, a friend of mine. They’ll be over shortly, so make sure their doll for the night is ready to receive. They payed for a full night of entertainment and I expect the best little whore in town to provide. Happy thoughts!” ~Jade
Kaylah tried to take a moment to clear her head and think just how much time had passed since she’d opened the box.. but it was hard to think about anything like that anymore.. she couldn’t.. she didn’t want to. She simply waited patiently at the bottom of the stairs, standing proper, mind ablaze with the endless possibilities until there was that knock on the door.. how long was she stood waiting before it happened? She couldn’t tell, but her time had come. Kaylah’s time to serve..
Another commission for the wonderful @kaylah-71 using her very own images. Its a pleasure to write these stories and I hope both she and all of you can enjoy my tales as well. Thank you for reading!
It was a night out like any other, a few drinks, hanging with your buds, plenty of catcalling towards any young skimpy thing that walked passed!
The perfect end of the work week and something you wouldn’t miss for a thing!
All the women that came through were obviously “college type” as well, considering you lived in quite the bustling college city.
A strip of bars in particular were always legendary picking grounds!
However, you couldn’t help but wonder, through the tears streaming down your face and a painfully obvious bulge between your legs, just how you came to be in this situation?
The feeling of chaffing on your wrists is noticeable from your restraints as you lay there. You can feel your diapers swell, the padding between your legs becoming thicker as you add the nights drinks to it, which embarrassingly enough you were beginning to enjoy in the heat and bulk of.
She would return at any moment to see to it that you had used your “padding” also, it’s what she first stated when strapping you into these thick diapers in fact. She was very determined that you wet them and wet them good, fill them to the brim, and your tears of frustration only seemed to excite her more.
She calls herself “Mommy” but prior to your defeating baby status she had only introduced herself as Victoria.
A sexy dime really, you couldn’t help but notice her straight away when she walked into the bar. There seemed to be a hidden stigma around her but warning had never stopped you before. It had continued to make a fool of you in fact.
This was by far the worst situation it had ever placed you in though.
You noticed a few of the other men backed away as she entered, she clearly held quite a reputation around the city.
You couldn’t help your eyes roving over her, the black leathered corset assemble easily set your loins on fire. You had never been with a “Goth” chick before!
Your excitement was exceedingly obvious as you catcalled out to her. But you didn’t care.
You didn’t care about many of the consequences to your actions leading up until now.
And so, you were slow to realize that you were actually the prey to her. You were just her “type" in fact, and you had never even had a chance in picking her up.
That wasn’t her style, and she was a dark threat to men like you.
The slamming of the front door could be heard all the way to the upstairs bathroom where I was sleepily brushing my teeth. Mom and dad must have left for work, that meant their big soft bed was free. Screw going to class today. It was my last semester before I transferred to a different college for my bachelors degree. Skipping once wouldn’t hurt. I was a good student.
Stopping in my room to take off my panties, I quickly walked to my parents room thinking about how wonderful it would be to get off on picturing my dad fucking me. The fantasy was always stronger when I laid on his side of the bed where the scent of his cologne was strongest.
I wordlessly slipped into their bed in only a long shirt, ignoring everything but the ache between my legs. I started with pinching my nipples through the thin cotton, making myself wetter with anticipation. When my hips started to rock slightly, I opened my legs, readying myself for my fingers.
My right leg hit something warm and solid. I froze.
“Hmmm, I thought you went to work baby.” It was my father’s voice. My world expanded beyond my dripping sex and I saw the back of his head next to me in bed. His hand reached back and rubbed my naked thigh. I ducked under the covers when I saw his head start to turn to look behind him. I was not going to screw up this golden opportunity.
Slowly, I felt his hand go up my leg and reached my wet pussy.
Complete and utter heaven.
“Kathy, you need something baby?”
He thought I was my mother. I didn’t care and kept silent but rocked my hips into him as his fingers lightly traveled up and down my dripping slit. The bed dipped when he rolled over into his back. Enough light was leaking through the covers for me to see that my father was naked and his cock was rising.
I couldn’t resist. I reached out and wrapped my hand around him.
His cock wasn’t very thick but as it hardened it had to be a good seven inches.
“You’re so wet honey.” He entered me with one finger and I could not stop the gasp that came to my lips. “Like that?”
I rocked my hips into his hand and finally moved my hand up and down his hard cock. He pulled his finger out after a few thrusts then pushed back in with two fingers. My hand sped up on him when his thumb found my clit as his fingers moved into me.
I couldn’t believe my father was finger fucking me to a quick orgasm.
“Oh you like this.” Even at this odd angle he increased the pressure of his thrusts until I tensed around his fingers and came., exploding around his fingers. I used my free hand to muffle my moans that could no longer be contained. His fingers didn’t stop their thrusting, prolonging my orgasm.
After the last shudder stopped and the thundering in my ears lessened, I removed my hand from my father’s hard cock and heard through his panting the disappointed moan he uttered at the loss of contact. Quickly, I took off my night shirt, leaving me completely naked and eager.
I was in no way finished with him.
IAs I shifted from his side to lay between his legs, his fingers left my pussy. I missed them inside me immediately.
“Kathy? You feel diff-” his words died on his lips as I licked him from balls to bulbous tip. Swirling my tongue around his head, I could taste the precum leaking out and it was amazing. I couldn’t hold back anymore and I silently wrapped my lips around his cock and took him into my wet and willing mouth.
“Fuck baby, you haven’t sucked me in so long.”
My mother hadn’t given dad head in a while huh. She had been missing out. He felt amazing in my mouth so I took more of him in while I rubbed up and down his tense thighs. As I started to bob my head up and down, sucking his hard cock I felt my dad lay a hand on the back of my head.
I moaned at the contact and pushed my aching pussy into the bed. He growled in disappointment when I took my mouth off him and only used a hand to jack him off. His hips jerked up as if trying to get his cock back into my mouth that instant.
The thought came that I should treat my dad.
Slowly, with my hands braced on his thighs to keep him still, I lowered my head, taking more and more of him until my nose hit his groin.
“Holy shit Kathy! When did you learn this?!” My dad bucked against my grip, his hips pushing more of himself into my mouth.
I pulled back to the tip, my lips never leaving his slick cock, then pushed him all the way back in again. I deep throated him again.
And again.
And again.
By now my father’s groans of pleasure were loud and his hips moved erratically. Pushing my hips into the bed wasn’t enough anymore and I moved up to straddle his hips while staying hidden under the covers. With his cock pushed up against his torso, his little bit of a stomach pushing out about an inch or so gave his cock a wonderful angle as it laid against him heavily.
I lowered myself against him and slowly slid my wet aching pussy up and down it’s length, stopping before the tip reached my hole. I wanted him inside me desperately, but not yet.
“Fuck,” I whimpered at the first touch of the head of his cock against my clit as I slid down his length.
My dad stilled his rocking hips at my utterance and finally threw off the covers.
“Claire?” My father’s face was shocked but his hands instantly found my hips, pushing down on them for me to grind on him harder.
“Hi dad,” I brought my own hands to my aching breasts, kneading them and pinching them roughly. “You feel so good on my pussy.”
It was like he suddenly he realised what he was doing and stopped moving.
“Oh god, this is wrong. I shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Please don’t stop,” I was too far gone to care about the whine in my voice. “I need you.”
“But you’re my daughter-”
I ground my hips down on his cock, stopping him mid sentence.
“Please daddy, I need you.” I sounded much younger than my twenty years, but I was beyond caring. I needed to get off.
The look on my face must have given away how great my need was because his hands went back to my hips and he started moving again.
“Okay baby girl,” dad’s voice was soft as he spoke. “I’ll take care of you.”
Rocking my hips, I slid easily along his length, his hard cock rubbing my clit. Still I didn’t move to get him inside me, I didn’t want to push my dad too far too quickly, making him stop.
“I need to cum daddy.” I hadn’t called him daddy in years, but if the speeding up of his hips and iron grip on my hips was any indication, he liked it. Taking his hands, I moved them from my hips to my breasts. My tits weren’t large but they were a big enough to be a handful for my dad. Immediately he pinched and played with my sensitive nipples, making me wetter than I thought I could be.
“I need to cum too honey.” I looked down at him and saw the lust in his eyes. All for me. “Did you like sucking on daddy’s cock?”
“Yes. You tasted wonderful.” He pinched my nipples hard. “I’m so close.” And I was. My orgasm was racing on me. I couldn’t stop from closing my eyes in pleasure.
“Cum sliding on daddy’s cock baby girl.” I felt a hand leave my breast and then two large fingers rub my clit.
My daddy as rubbing my clit. The man I had masterbated to for the last year after accidentally walking in on him in the bathroom and seeing his cock. Dad was touching me. Asking me to cum. Pushing his hip up against me while my moans grew in louder.
“Daddy… daddy…”
“Cum for be baby girl, cum for daddy.” He voice was soft and breathless, the exact opposite of his hard and rigid cock between us, both coaxing me to cum. It was working.
“Oh god yes!” I came hard thrusting my head back in ecstasy, my cum dripping down to soak my dad and cover his throbbing cock and balls. I felt him twitch against my pussy and his hips stop moving causing me to look down in time to see him shoot his hot load all over his stomach.
Breathing hard, and after both of us were done cumming and spasming, I bonelessly slid off my father to lay next to him in a naked, satisfied heap.
Sleep started tugging at me. Just as I was about to drift off, I felt my dad’s arms around me, his soft cock nestled between my ass cheeks. He must have wiped himself clean before turning into me.
Good. I had plans for him later. I drifted off to sleep.
Summary: The Final Battle is approaching—whatever the hell that is. Apparently Emma has a part to play, though she has no idea what exactly is required of her—or what it will cost her. All she knows is that the two pink lines on her pregnancy test just raised the stakes.
A/N: Heyyyyyy sorry this took so long. I’ll try to be a bit faster with the next one!
March begins with back-to-back snowstorms. To Ian’s dismay, they both fall on consecutive Saturdays and don’t disrupt school at all; instead, they provide the perfect incentive to stay inside and finally convert Ian’s old room into a nursery. It’s Sunday evening, the latest storm is well over, the roads and sidewalks are cleared, the car shoveled out, and everyone is hard at work.
“Ugh,” groans Ian from the kitchen, informing them for the fifth time in as many minutes that he’s supremely dissatisfied with the current state of affairs.
Killian and Emma have been ignoring his complaints since they sat him down that afternoon with the homework he neglected all weekend. Henry, however, has apparently had enough.
“Oh my God, Ian!” he bursts from his bedroom. “Shut up about it already! I’m trying to write a paper!”
Ian replies with another loud, even more petulant groan. Killian hears Henry’s desk chair scrape the floor, pounding footsteps—he braces himself to intervene, but Henry merely slams his door.
Emma snorts from where she’s folding onesies. “I think we’ve all been in the house too long.”
I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t hurt me a little bit when he just wasn’t that into me. This is becoming a circular motion of all the reasons why no one can love me.
Hello, and I am not sorry, this is not a goodbye, more like a salutation of a farewell, this is our little dark age watch me find light in this darkness, as I’m sat in the air conditioned emergency room, my eyes burning with mint, wearing a mask is worse when you chew gum. Everyone is staring, it makes me feel intimidated, I’m used to being the intimidating one, the scary one who makes their skin crawl. I’m the youngest one here, well minus that toddler who has barely been alive for a minute – he doesn’t count. This place smells of bleach and anti bac, and the all too familiar stench of the oncology wards all around, I remember you here, with your liquorice all sorts that were disgusting by the way, but I “liked” them still, only for you, I hope you know that. You probably do, you’re my guardian angel, I believe you still visit me every now and then, maybe my clairvoyancy isn’t as good as it should be, because I miss you every day. They say it gets easier as time passes, but everyday passes and it never gets easier, instead it makes my heart reach out to make me miss you more, because du er et minne (you are a memory) it’s time to let you go now, instead of grasping onto the smoke of my past, you need your peace and all I cause is chaos all around me.
let’s build a house out of blankets and pillows it seems like the perfect place to hide away from the world for just a second now, but just wipe your feet at the door before I let you in.
Dear Michelangelo, I’m writing to ask you if you could sculpt out my dream appearance, I’d like to start out with my body shape, a flat stomach and thin waist, wide hips and muscled legs, thin arms and less broad shoulders and collar bones as sharp as a knife.
I want to stay the same height, not any taller than 5″2 it’s better that way, because no one would expect a pretty little thing like me to fling a body across the room - yet there they are.
I would like to differ in skin tone, as much as I hate to admit - I want to be white, because why in this day and age, do people see colour as a barrier to “social norms”, what is it that white people can do that coloured people can’t?
I’d like to change my face too, a button nose, similar to mine now but with a slope and no bump, plump lips too, pretty pink, with a smile that shows off a set of pearly whites with a crocked tooth, not perfectly straight.
I’d keep my thicker eyebrows, and my hair too, but take away the puffy eyes, the chubby cheeks, the undefined jaw, replacing it with defined cheekbones and jawline sharp, and long eyelashes and slow growing facial hair that I don’t have to wax every week.
Dear Michelangelo, we have now designed my perfect woman, tell me how much she costs, I’ll pay it all to be her, because she is my perfect and I am not.
Do you remember when your mothers would say ‘this is how girls end up dead’?
That I’ve been trying to stay alive and not be killed my whole life.
Maybe it’s time we fuck the patriarchal society, this man run world, because this fucking queen wants to walk alone at night, with my hair pulled back and headphones in my ear, because “I’m tired and angry but somebody should be!”
my skin is crawling, my stomach clammy like all things anxious, like I’m about to throw up, but instead I’m all funny, maybe like bubbles blowing up, in the epitome of my abdomen, I’m not sure why, this shit is vexing me, it’s 11pm too, seems like my new favourite time, just to lie awake and do nothing, close my eyes and try to drift away, can’t think of nothing new, so instead I wrote a poem; It doesn’t have to be good, but is poetry ever perfect?
More like a stream of consciousness strung together in sentence that sound pretty, add in a rhyme or two, like my story of the old man who refused to sell his lime to a boy called dan; dan didn’t have money, well only two dimes, but it seems I’m only on a tangent now, I’ll take this as my cue to go, not forever, it’s only a goodbye for now; until we meet again, my friend.
maybe i’m a hypocrite that i want you to remember me when i forget you - ishani
Do you think about me the way I think about you when I’m lying on the floor, in my bra and pajama bottoms, hair down?
Do you think about me the way I think about you when I’m lying on the floor, drunk and alone, wine in my blood causing a little bit of trouble?
Do you think about me the way I think about you when I’m lying on the floor, high and I kind of wanna cry, because I’m so fucking alone?
Do you think about me the way I think about you when I’m lying in my bed, and my head down in the pillow, but I’m pretending it’s you?
Do you even think about me? Do you even dream about me? Do you even say my name in the back of your mind, wishing that you hadn’t pin pricked my heart with your finger before licking the blood of the tips with a smile?
I’ve suicide inside of my body, hurting me, yet I’m finding it hard to leave, so when it continues hurting me, these insecurities disconcerting me, I like to disguise it down into the gutter, spilling these feelings down like water, flushing it down and throwing it out, I hope you remember; I still want you to believe in me, even though I am trying to deceive you, me too.
it’s 11pm and i’m all alone, i’m no longer missing anyone or anything, and it’s better that way, but i’m staying up later then usual, waiting for a boy to respond to me, this isn’t like me, at all, this isn’t like me, at all.
If you can’t say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all - ishani
I don’t think I was made for this world, I don’t think that I belong here. Maybe it’s pathetic, maybe it’s not, maybe it’s useless, but maybe it’s not. All these “what if’s” and all these “maybe’s” but my mouth forever tastes like all the things I should have said, but instead I bit my tongue, swallowed them down and watched as I said everything else instead.
I undo and pick at my spine, for no certified reason, and I want to note that down as a point.
So I find myself asking why – -why do I write this?
It’s like writing people hoping that they’d come alive and be my friends (they do in ways you’ll never understand.)
but I write them down still, to forget the details in the poems you sent me; handpicked from the rose bush in the garden, and the lavender bush, you use to lure me into, only to sting me with your twisted mind.
