#asra babe

[the-melting-world]

This artist keeps making dreams come true by bringing our ships to life. I’m in complete awe by this com from @traviq featuring Asra and my apprentice Kipling. Their connection is captured so authentically, I just... I ran out of words. I’m in love. The end. 😭

Thank you, Traviq!!! 💖💖💖

[the-melting-world]

Hey! I just read your newest publish and I love it! I would like to request something please. Asra with a reader (please refer to reader as mc) who hides behind him because of how shy they are, it can turn smutty please, and for mc to be shy with asra even when they are lovemaking :) thank you very much!

Gotcha! I hope I made the mc shy enough. Thanks for requesting. I really hope you like it. 

🍋 🍋 🍋

~ 1100 words

Gender Neutral MC / AMAB Asra

***

You stand behind Asra’s chair while he does a reading for one of his regular customers. You try to ignore the thin layer of sweat collecting on your brow as you concentrate on his movements and energy throughout the reading. The customer has no idea all the work that goes into this process, but you do. 

Asra says that this will be your last time shadowing him. Next time, you will have to do it on your own. After the customer leaves, Asra draws the curtain, closing the two of you inside the small, dark space.

“How did you feel about that last one? Think you can do this on your own?”

You bite your lip and give a vigorous shake of your head. Asra sighs as he approaches you. He pulls you against him and pecks your forehead before angling your head up to give you a real kiss.

“What’s it going to take to show you that you’re ready for this? You don’t have to hide behind me anymore.”

You have always struggled with your confidence, especially in Asra’s presence. He’s always been good at making you feel worthy, but when it comes to believing it yourself, that’s where you have the hardest time.

Your reverie breaks when you realize that Asra hasn’t stopped at the kiss. He works his lips down your collarbone, undoing the fastenings of your jacket. 

“The sh-shop is still open!” You gasp when he shows no signs of stopping.

His teeth cage around your nipple when he looks up at you through his snowy bangs. 

“I know.”

The rational side of you says to stop, but another part of you is spellbound by the magician’s bold behavior. You watch him make his way to his knees, starting to pull away at the fastenings of your trousers.

Your face heats as you stop him. “Wait.”

Asra looks up at you, curious and hopeful. 

You look away, face burning. You can’t bring yourself to say what you want. The words are stuck in your throat, no matter how many times you swallow. But then you close your eyes and just let your body convey the message that your tongue cannot.

Asra makes a puzzled sound as you pull him to his feet and drag him back to the chair where he was sitting moments ago. You urge him to sit before bending down and crawling under the table. The partial cover provided by the table fixtures brings you a little comfort and an odd sense of protection.

Face still boiling like a kettle, you avoid Asra’s mesmerized gaze as you undo his pants and pull them down just enough to free his cock. Your breath catches at his length and you can’t help but chuckle at the patch of white curling around its base.

Asra inhales slowly. “Are you sure you’re okay with –” 

You fill your mouth with as much cock as you can before he has a chance to finish. Asra falls totally silent as you get to work. Your hands. Your lips. Your tongue. You sync them all together for the singular purpose of making him come.

For now he is leaning back in his seat, fingers tangled in your hair, pale eyelashes fluttering in response to the sudden euphoria.

He moans your name. “Don’t stop.”

You wish you could tell him how good he tastes. The fullness of his cock in your mouth sends you over the edge. You can detect every vein and impression exaggerated by his erection. You wish he knew how you can’t get enough of it when the tip hits the back of your throat in a mind-numbing rhythm. You hum your satisfaction, sending vibrations through your teeth. 

Asra's eyes roll back as he sinks in his chair. “Oh, fuck.”

The silence is interrupted by a sudden whoosh of fabric.

“Judging by what I just heard, you sound like you’ve had a long, trying day.”

You slow down to gauge the new voice.

Asra jerks in his seat, but doesn’t pull out.

“Ilya?”

You hear the doctor saunter to the client’s end of the round table before flopping down and casting his lanky form about the chair. Clearly oblivious to the look of suppressed mortification on Asra’s face, he tuts on.

“Couldn’t have been any worse than my day, tell you that.”

You and Asra make eye contact for a brief moment. Even through the inconvenience of Julian’s arrival, the answer is clear in his eyes. He doesn’t want you to stop. 

His subtle encouragement brings a new flame to your cheeks, but you completely surrender, letting your jaw drop and opening your throat for a deeper purchase.

Asra can barely stifle a throaty groan.

Meanwhile Julian prattles on. “Right? Like, what does an honest doctor have to do to get a decent price on standard leeches in this city?”

With his hand, Asra adds pressure to the base of your neck. You increase your pace, bobbing your head with enthusiasm. You steal a glance up at Asra. The upper half of his face is eclipsed by rosy tones, especially the tips of his ears, which peek out from his snowy tassels. 

Julian’s tone suddenly shifts. “Asra, are you feeling well? You look wracked with fever.”

You ease most of Asra’s cock out and suck hard on the fleshy tip.

“I’m fine, Ilya,” he growls. And then softer, “I think you should – um – you should go.”

The legs of the chair squeak across the floor as Julian gets to his feet. 

“At least let me examine —”

Asra’s hips give an involuntary thrust.

“Fuck! No - I’m coming!”

Julian halts. “Er…”

Asra clears his throat again. “I mean, go wait by the front desk. I’ll be there in just a moment.”

Finally, Julian makes his exit. 

Asra releases a grateful sigh. Your chuckle comes through as another blissful hum.

Asra starts to laugh, but then his face tightens and his cum rushes out. You jolt in surprise, but you don’t gag. Asra massages his fingers through your hair as you lick his cock clean. 

Soon he joins you under the table, kissing you with pride. “See? You have nothing to be shy about.”

You kiss him back and although you can’t seem to stop blushing, you do feel a little lighter. The idea of doing a reading does not seem as daunting as it once did. 

Asra gives you a knowing smile. “Should I close down the shop, or . . . ?”

You pull him down to the carpeted floor with you and roll until you’re straddling him. 

“Not yet. Let’s make the doctor wait a little longer.”

[the-melting-world]

Got any headcanons for Asra at a rave/music festival?

I certainly do....🎶💖🤘💖👽💖🦄💖🍄💖🍀💖🎶

As you look around, you can easily imagine Asra living in a place like this.

Naturally when he saunters by, people stop what they’re doing just to stare. And stare. And stare -- all for good reason.

Expect him to be wearing all the beads. All the mesh. All the neon. Iridescent angel wings. Marbled hell horns. We’re talking Pastel Deity in the Flesh.

Ah, and the sweet nipple peek!

He’s showing so much fucking skin – what’s naturally tan becomes a shimmering bronze under the coatings of gold dust

Next to him, you look like a goddamn arts and crafts project. Yikes.

Of course Asra knows several of the DJs performing. So you’re getting in for free – lucky you!

Oh and what’s this? Asra hands you a little treat. Hm. Looks like chocolate, smells like it too. Soft gooey center. Where did you get these, Asra?

Why are you asking so many questions? The music is too fucking loud for that and you are in row zero. Practically swallowing all the glitter cascading off the stage.

But Asra’s voice is never far away, whooping, calling, chanting any lyrics interspersed with those energetic cacophonous melodies.

He’s dancing hard against you. Not that you have a problem with that. People are staring again, wishing they were you right now. Asra seems to sense their attention too. He loops his body around yours and grabs you in all the right places, announcing to the audience: Mine.

Then he takes you by the chin and really gives them something to stare at.

The sky turns dark. The stage glows. Fireworks take off. Your head is light, but your body is heavy with sweat and fatigue from dancing. You try to hold on because you can tell that Asra is in this for the long haul. He’s dancing like he gives no fucks and whenever he catches your eye… yes, it’s quite clear that he does want to fuck.

The adrenaline between you rages on under the waterfall of glitter and the shock-inducing light show.

Asra holds you tightly through it all and whispers, “Brace yourself.”

Because when that final beat drops, you and him will be the only ones levitating above the crowd.

[the-melting-world]

Can you do a short story where the MC goes blind permanently after something goes wrong with her magic and Asra has to help her adjust while he tries to find a way to restore her vision which ultimately doesn't work?

Oh. This prompt was sooo good! And challenging! But I like a challenge. Hope you enjoy it!

Gender neutral MC!

~ 900 words

***

Asra couldn’t stop apologizing. What had he done? Would he ever be able to come back from this? To fix this? He warned them, told the apprentice that gaining sight into the parallel dimensions was risky. He would know. He had risked it himself and damn near lost his own vision.

But his apprentice had not been so lucky.

“It’s okay,” they whispered as he held them close. His voice broke every time he tried to speak. He was shaking. Still, the apprentice’s tone did not waver as they promised him that everything would be okay. They would find a way through this. 

“And besides,” they said, unable to hold back the delight in their voice, “Asra, it worked. I can see . . . I can see everything. All the realms – of the Arcana and more. You did it.”

What did it matter, Asra wished he could ask, when they would never be able to gaze out again at the ocean? Or fully immerse themselves in the optical wonders of a masquerade ball?

What good was sight into the realms of the Arcana when everything right in front of them would be nothing more than shadows?

Despite the apprentice’s complacency at the failed spell, Asra did not rest. He lost hours and hours of sleep, trying to search for a way to reverse what he had done. But he didn’t want the apprentice to catch onto what he was up to, so he made sure to keep them busy whenever they were around.

Even though he was looking for a way to undo the spell, Asra didn’t think it was a bad idea to help his apprentice become acclimated to relying more on their other senses. So every day, he would take them to a quiet spot in the woods. Something like a small meadow, where the wildlife was active, but subdued. And where the sunlight filtered in softly enough that they could be there for hours without becoming uncomfortable in the heat.

Asra showed the apprentice how to meditate. He talked them through the basics of mindfulness, how to open their senses and allow their mind to drift. How to bring it back when it wandered too far.

As always, the apprentice was a natural.

“What is that?” they asked, their chin tilted up.

Asra regarded them with surprise. He had only just unwrapped the herbs he had brought. He found it a little more than remarkable that they could smell them from where they sat. Even he would have to bring the herbs up to his nose to be able to identify them by smell alone.

It didn’t take Asra long to recover. With a smile that he knew his apprentice couldn’t see, he said, “We’ve spent enough time focusing on listening. I thought we could work on increasing your sensitivity to smells, but it looks like you’re already a step ahead of me.”

Asra tried to keep his tone light, but it was hard. He wished they didn’t have to get used to being blind. He wished that he had found some answers by now. He unraveled the sprigs of lavender, thyme, and cinnamon. Then he ran a series of recognition tests that the apprentice passed with little difficulty.

When they were almost done with their session, he simply couldn’t take it anymore. Asra confessed about the cure he had been working on for the past couple of weeks. 

The apprentice smiled sadly and said, “Asra, I know. I’ve always known. But didn’t I tell you? I don’t need you to do this. I got what I wanted. I can see. I see things that I could never even begin to describe to you. Places that you wouldn’t believe exist.”

Asra drew close to the apprentice and kissed their forehead in apology. “What sort of places?” Before this, he had let his guilt serve as a dam for his curiosity of this new ability. How could he possibly investigate their powers when he had stolen something so precious?

The apprentice made a soft, bemused sound at his question. “I see . . . utopias. Real ones. Where there’s no pain. No needless suffering.”

Asra smiled against their forehead. “Now that it is impossible.”

“See?” The apprentice laughed. “I knew you’d deny it. They’re real, Asra. There’s not a lot of them out there, but they’re there.”

Asra slid the palms of his hands along their jaw and eased their head back. 

“You’re sure then? You don’t have any regrets?”

The apprentice nodded. “Asra, I already have you. The fact that I can’t see you right in front of me will never change that. I know you’re here. I know who you are. I do see you, but now with all that I am instead of just my eyes. And I . . . I like it better this way.”

Overcome by their words, Asra kissed them in a way he had not since they lost their sight. The apprentice moaned a little and folded under his touch, as if they had been desperately waiting for him to let his guard down this whole time.

“Asra,” they gasped, starved of touch and even more sensitive to it than before.

Asra cursed himself again for being so neglectful. He held the apprentice with everything he had and tried to make up for avoiding them.

Then he closed his own eyes and ventured to see them beyond the ways that were superficial and limiting.

[the-melting-world]

Masquerading with Magicians 🍋

Asra x Reader x Magician

Notes: Fem/AFAB MC

Warnings: voyeurism, masturbation, oral, body swapping

~ 2.5K words

You are tired of Asra’s games. 

“Come on, please tell me what it is!” You beg as you cling to his arm. He keeps you light on your feet as he pulls you down the opulent corridors of the palace. The two of you have just left one of the dancehalls and you’re still a little dizzy from it. Not to mention that you’ve had more than a few drinks by now.

Asra’s doesn’t drop his teasing grin. “I want it to be a surprise. We’re almost there.”

“Almost where?” You huff.

Asra stops at one of the many polished doors and takes out a key. He lets you inside a private chamber. Inside, the light filtering from the lanterns is pale, but soft. The walls and carpet are bathed in a spectrum of teals and cyan blues with accents of gold.

You look around in wonder. “Asra, where are we?”

He closes the two of you inside the cozy space. “Do you like it? Watch your step.” He catches you before you stumble into the shallow depression carved in the floor. It’s home to a concentration of cushions and downy blankets.

There is also someone waiting for you in the center of the nest. Like all of the guests in the palace, they wear a mask.

“MC,” they say with a delicate incline of their head, “always a pleasure.”

Then they take their time removing their mask. You blink in disbelief as Asra’s face grins back at you. 

The Magician? What were they doing at the masquerade? Unlike Asra, they were not wearing a costume.

In fact, they were not wearing much of anything.

You walk up to them and kneel down. “It’s good to see you!” You scratch behind their fox-like ears. “But what are you doing here?”

The Magician nuzzles against your hand and closes their eyes in satisfaction. “Mmm. That’s a good question.” Then they surprise you by pouncing and rolling until you’re on your back.

“Did you miss me?” They say in between nipping affectionately at your neck. 

You laugh and suddenly wish you weren’t restricted by the masquerade costume. 

“Of course I do! But will somebody please tell me what’s going on?”

Asra finally comes to your aid, laughing good-naturedly as he lifts the Magician up by their shoulders and sits them down. Once you’re all seated with your legs crossed, Asra and the Magician share sly glances before Asra starts to explain.

“The Magician and I wanted to give this to you on your birthday, but Nadia caught wind of what we were planning and convinced us to wait until the masquerade.”

You cross your arms in suspicion. “So I’m about to get a late birthday present? What’s so special that you had to drag me from the party and summon the Magician all the way from their realm?”

The almost identical magicians share another glance, but this one is hesitant. Asra nudges the Magician with his elbow. “Should I ask her or do you want to?”

You look at the Magician. “Ask me what?”

The Magician’s ears twitch in uncertainty. Their overgrown pupils search the carpeted floor for answers.

You hate seeing them so nervous. So you lean forward and take their hands in yours. Due to their otherworldly nature, you can easily feel the pulse of cosmic energy under their glamoured skin.

“You don’t have to be shy around me, Magician. Whether you realize it or not, you’re my friend too. I want to know your thoughts.”

This seems to put them somewhat at ease. Their ears stop twitching, but they flatten them to the side as they look up at you with those glossy purple eyes and say, “MC, I know that I can be a bit mercurial at times, but at the end of the day, I care for Asra. I want to see him happy. And you,” they eased into a smile, “you make him happy. It was only a matter of time before I began to care for you too.” 

You try to thank the Magician, but their face immediately sobers and they start talking fast. 

“And I know I can’t make you happy in all the ways that Asra can, but I would like to try to do so in one of the ways that I know how.”

You want to agree with the Magician, but you’re not really sure you know what you’re agreeing to.

“I . . . I’m not sure what you mean.”

The Magician lets their hands slip away from yours as they turn to hide their ever reddening face. Asra chuckles as he pats them on the back. Then he leans forward.

“What the Magician means is –”

He whispers the rest in your ear. You feel your own eyes widen and your breath catch at the revelation.

The Magician dares a tentative glance in your direction. You are so overcome with excitement and gratitude that all you can do is nod and giggle.

“Yes. Yes. Yes!”

Asra and the Magician share identical grins. You are already trying to get your masquerade costume off, silently cursing Nadia at outfitting you with something so tailored and complicated.

Asra laughs and places a hand on your knee. “MC, slow down. We’ll take care of that. You just relax and tell us what you want.”

You sigh. “Well, that’s kind of awkward.”

The Magician, comfortable now that they have your approval, lifts an eyebrow and suggests, “I can simply read your mind. It’ll make things go a lot smoother.”

You tilt your head, contemplating that option. In the end, you say, “I think I can do this.”

“Right.” Asra, who is clearly past his patience, closes the gap between you and him. “Let’s get started.”

You gently rest your fingers on his chest. He pauses before reaching your lips. 

You can feel your face heating up as you glance in the Magician’s direction. “Let them help you out of your costume, and . . .” your face climbs to a new level of heat, “we’ll see where it goes from there.”

Asra draws back slowly. “Hmph. You adapted pretty quickly.”

You give an innocent shrug, but behind your smile, it’s a different story.

Asra smirks before turning his attention toward the Magician. You’re a little thrown off by how comfortably they regard one another while the Magician works on getting Asra out of his gown.

You lean back on the mound of cushions and watch their intimacy unfold. The Magician leaves soft, lingering kisses at the base of Asra’s neck as they unclasp buttons and loosen the threads holding everything together.

Meanwhile, your hand travels under the high slit in your dress to the warm space between your legs. You’re already wet, but only a little. You try to breathe evenly and not read too much into Asra’s reactions as you tease two fingers in and out.

In what seems like no time at all, Asra’s gown is off and he and the Magician seem to have temporarily forgotten about you. It’s a known fact that Asra takes making out very seriously and when it comes to him, it can become just as intimate as making love.

You don’t mind though. Everything’s better if they don’t realize you’re watching. But it’s when the Magician uncovers Asra’s erection that makes you eager to join the action.

As if sensing your need, the Magician briefly pulls away from Asra and gestures to you. “We are being rotten hosts, Asra. MC wants to play too.”

Asra blinks rapidly, as if waking up from a dream. “MC! I’m so sorry. I just caught up –”

You crawl over to him and silence him with a kiss. The Magician is chuckling merrily in the background. You feel their hands working on getting off your costume now. You and Asra share long, deep kisses while the Magician toils away at the bodice. Soon the materials are sliding down your torso, but you hardly care.

Your breath hitches when something warm and wet latches onto your nipple. You break away from Asra to see the Magician, eyes closed, sucking and gently purring. It makes your head light.

Asra notices your interest in the Magician and encourages you to lie on your back. The Magician hovers over you and cocks their fluffy head to the side.

“I can be whatever you want,” they whisper, scanning your face for some kind of clue. Without speaking, you tentatively reach up and drag your fingertips along their chest. They give you an experimental kiss and your skin tingles as a wave of magic interrupts their glamour for a softer, smoother anatomy. Your fingers register what was once flat, lean muscle now as full and supple flesh. 

But your attention is pulled away from the Magician as Asra draws your knees over his hips and wedges himself inside you. Your body reacts to this sublime level of comfort and fit. Like ribbons unfurling for the first time, you unravel, your arms naturally stretching over your head and your spine arching by a few degrees. 

In your moment of vulnerability, the Magician takes firm hold of your wrists and bends very close to your face. “You still haven’t told me if this is the form you want me to take.”

You take a steadying breath as your eyes coast over the Magician’s soft anatomy.

You bite your lip and nod. 

Asra starts to move inside you.

“Hurry,” you whisper breathlessly, “sit on my face.”

The Magician chuckles as they answer your command. Your lips part as you and tilt your head back to receive them. They tighten their hold on your wrists. The feeling of them restraining you briefly sends your mind to a more primal place. Your eyes flutter shut as you pass your tongue along a set of vertical lips. You give another lick, sucking hard when your teeth catch onto soft meat.

The Magician inhales sharply and lets go of your wrists. They lean back and grab your hair for better control. Your mind sort of blanks as they drop their hips and take a deeper seat on your face. Your hands wander up to their ass, gently encouraging them to make the ride as rough as they want.

“ . . . Damn.”

Asra’s voice. Clearly he likes what he sees.

Your toes curl as he roughly gathers your thighs and eases into a familiar rhythm. You direct your muscles to clench hard and often. But this is difficult when the Magician is practicing their own choreography against your jaw. You do your best to keep up, sucking generously on their clit. Bathing your tongue against the wetter, more sensitive parts. Swallowing. 

You wonder if the Magician knows that their pussy tastes like cosmic foam. That it feels like little galaxies bursting into existence all over your tongue. 

The Magician calls your name. “Are you ready?” They sound delirious and out of breath.

You hum against their pussy. “Ready for what?”

A moan. “This.”

Something happens and your world tilts. 

The tiny galaxies in your mouth seem to expand and swallow you whole. You disappear inside of a black hole and are reborn through the mouth of a white one. You blink to try to clear your vision. Eventually, the disorientation fades. You are back in the cozy chamber. This time you are sitting up and you see...

You see yourself. Lying before you.

The Magician has moved to the side. Once again they are a mirror of Asra’s anatomy, comfortably relaxing back and stroking their own cock.

The other you looks just as disoriented as you feel. That’s when you notice her eyes.

They are purple.

“Asra?” you say, but your voice is not your own. Yet it sounds so familiar. 

Your copycat with the purple eyes glances at the Magician. “Did you just –”

The Magician rolls their eyes and pauses briefly to say, “Yes. I switched you. You better hurry up before the spell wears off.”

Your jaw drops. “I’m in Asra’s body?”

The Magician grins. “You’re welcome.”

Asra and you lock eyes and are barely able to contain your excitement. Without even thinking twice, you flip him over and say, “Let’s try this.”

Asra’s skin shivers in anticipation as he finds himself on his hands and knees. You don’t even think twice as you fit your cock inside of his still ripe pussy. You glide in easily, but... 

“Oh gods.”

Asra turns his face, which looks identical to yours, over his shoulder and says, “Is something wrong?”

You have to fight your eyes from rolling back. “No, no. It’s just . . . tight.”

You almost don’t recognize your own face when Asra gives one of his distinctive smirks.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

You nibble the inside of your cheek and start rocking your hips. All you can manage is a weak, “Mm-hm.”

Soon Asra gets caught up in his own new sensations. Little does he know that you chose this position with the intention of impressing him. The Magician’s soft grunts in the background motivates you to keep thrusting hard and steady into Asra’s warm pussy.

“Hey Magician,” you say, “watch this.”

You reach over just enough to fit your hand around the base of Asra’s neck. Then you whisper, “Bend down. It feels better that way.”

Asra trusts you and sinks his face into the cushions. The deep arch in his spine puts you over the edge. You hold his neck while you fuck him. And while it feels amazing on your end, the real high comes from watching Asra get off. 

“Ngnnnn,” he groans in your voice, unable to form coherent words.

You know all too well how your body reacts to this position combined with the pressure against the back of the neck. But this isn’t even the height of sensation.

It takes absolute focus to thrust, hold Asra down, and feed your other hand down his navel. With your index and ring finger, you spread apart the lips of his pussy. Then you employ your middle finger to engage his clit.

“Ah!” Asra had more to say, but it’s muffled by the cushion.

You bite your lip in concentration, knowing the trick to maximizing this sort of pleasure. Asra, though he has tried in the past, could never really get it right. You understand how featherlight your fingers have to be in contrast to the strength of your thrusts and the secure grip you have on his neck. 

Asra can’t really hold on much longer. 

You feel yourself about to erupt.

But then you are swallowed inside yet another galaxy...

!!!

“Oh. That’s – fuck!”

You receive Asra’s cum in your original body, face down in the cushions. Exactly where you want to be. 

The sudden shift back to your original bodies has momentarily untethered you and Asra from reality. You have no control over your hips as they fight to cling to the sensation. Asra’s behind you, caught in a similar puppetry, locked in a carousel of swearing.

Once again, you detect those tiny pinwheels of light emerging in your core as if some of the Magician’s magic has rubbed off on you.

Eventually, you and Asra are reclaimed by natural laws. That floaty feeling dissolves and you are lying in a heap, sweating and breathing like you nearly drowned. The Magician, who is still jacking off, waits patiently for the two of you to catch your breath.

You’re the one who kisses Asra and says, “I think we should help them out.”

He pushes the damp hair out of your face and presses a sweet kiss to your nose. 

“I agree. And then after that, do you want to . . .”

You interrupt him. “Go home, take a shower and curl up with a cup of tea?”

He playfully bumps his nose against yours. 

“Mm. You read my mind.”

[the-melting-world]

Hey I’ll offer you three pennies and my soul for some Asra sauce if the lemonade stand is still open

Oh yes. I am wide, wide open. 

Speaking of which…

You lift your head from between Asra’s legs. Your chin is soaked and still dripping when he cups your jaw and angles your head back. He takes his time getting upright and then leans forward on his knees so you have to look up at him. 

A subtle grin flecks his features as he traces a knuckle along your glistening chin. 

“Looks like you made a mess,” he teases, but not unkindly. “Do you need help?”

Following his hooded purple gaze, you nod. “Please.”

Asra dips his head. “Was it good?” he gives the corner of your mouth an experimental lick.

“Hnnn.” You close your eyes and moisten your lips. “Yes. You taste like . . .” you ramble off some absurdity about creamy dates and buttered figs. 

“Wow.” You can feel Asra’s mocking smile against the underside of your chin. “That is oddly specific.”

With his tongue, he rinses in and around your mouth before sucking the spots dry with eager, attentive lips. Meanwhile, he applies his fingers to your warmer regions, sharp and uncomfortable from waiting so long.

You don’t want to sound so desperate, but . . .

“Asra, please. I need you to – yes, that.”

Determined to answer your call, Asra makes his way south, pause briefly to greet your nipples with a friendly suck before continuing his journey.

Your legs tremble as you spread them wider, sinking forward against Asra’s face. Your hand finds purchase in the alabaster curls at his nape. Your arm trembles with anticipation for the right moment to grip tightly and buck.

But you get no relief. You wake up from the dream – yes. A goddamn dream – horny and alone. 

Usually, you would take a few moments to set yourself straight, but you overslept and you don’t have any time to spare.

That infuriatingly thorny sensation between your legs doesn’t go away by the time you make it to the bathroom. Without even thinking to knock, you let yourself inside.

And what you see . . . well, there is no way to unsee it.

You’ve caught Asra just as he is stepping out of the tub. His violet eyes are wide and disbelieving. The shock written across his face overpowers whatever embarrassment he might be feeling in the moment.

Even through the belly of fog and steam, you can see every inch of him. After all this time, you’ve never walked on Asra naked before and the slip-up has both of you stunned into silence.

But the thorns below are persistent and Asra’s growing band of blush is making it hard to resist. It’s Asra who loses his nerve, stumbling out of the tub only to close the gap between you and drop to his knees.

“Oh! Asra, you, um...you don’t –” Your legs nearly give out when he nuzzles you below your waist, “you really don’t have to do that.”

By now he’s sucking and kissing those sharp, stubborn areas. Making them soft and wet enough that you need to cry out.

[the-melting-world]

Can you do a fluffy story of the apprentice making dinner or baking bread with Asra?

Sorry for the wait. This was a fun request! Kipling loves cooking meals and trying out new recipes, especially if she has someone to help her. Enjoy!

~ 1K words

****

Kipling woke up from her nap to the smell of garlic sizzling in oil. As she lifted herself off the sofa, her hand wandered into her hair. Great. It was a mess. Of course she forgot to tie it back before falling asleep. She took a few seconds to fluff it out and smooth over the problem areas, knowing that Asra wouldn’t really care either way. He knew a thing or two when it came to the bedhead struggles.

Kipling met Asra in their cozy kitchen. 

“Mmm. Is that stir fry I smell?”

Asra looked up from the stove. He shot her one of his warm smiles that he only saved for when they were alone. “I just started it up. Did you enjoy your nap?”

Kipling nodded as she approached him from behind. She wrapped her arms around his middle and leaned her cheek against his back. “Thanks for letting me sleep. I needed that.”

She felt his lean muscles flex under his shirt as he reached for the bowl of chopped onions and tossed them in with the sizzling garlic.

Kipling heard the smile in his voice as he said, “Trust me, even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could have woken you up. By the way, can you help me with the rice? You know I can never remember how much water to put in.”

Kipling laughed softly as she released him. “Asra, it’s the same every time. For every cup of rice, add twice as much water. A little less if you want firmer rice.”

Asra nodded. “Of course. Of course.” Then he paused and stared at the ceiling in contemplation. “And . . . I forgot again. Strange how that always happens.”

Kipling and Asra carried on with their light banter as they worked on the rice, beef, and eggs for the stir fry. When it was time to add the carrots, Kipling could not find any where they usually kept them.

“Asra? We’re out of carrots.” She said with a pout. She hated going without at least one hearty vegetable for a meal like this.

Asra shrugged like it was no big deal. “I can turn everything on low while you run down to the market.”

The thought of going back out made Kipling recoil internally. Unless it was for a special occasion, she really tried to avoid social interaction after a certain hour.

As if sensing her discomfort, Asra offered with a tilt of his brow, “Or you can grow some carrots right here.”

A few weeks ago Muriel had shown Kipling how to use magic to speed up the growth of certain plants. But she still wasn’t totally confident that she could pull it off on her own. Plus, when Muriel was demonstrating the technique, she had been more than a little distracted by his . . . assets.

“Um,” Kipling self-consciously tugged on the ghost lock by her temple, “I don’t know. They might come out mutated or something.”

Asra dialed down the stove and turned towards her. Pulling her in by the waist and touching his curly brow to hers, he said, “Kipling, it’s all going to the same place. Our stomachs don’t care if your carrots come out looking like gnarly starfish.”

Kipling chewed the inside of her cheek in uncertainty until Asra kissed her forehead. Apparently that was all she needed to find her confidence. Suddenly determined to rescue their dinner, she shook Asra off and went to go find an empty plant pot. She had dozens of them in their little plot out back. Once she lined the pot with some soil, she brought it into the kitchen and tried to remember everything Muriel taught her.

“Ugh. It’s not working,” Kipling groaned after a few failed attempts. 

Asra approached and said, “What’s the problem?”

Kipling shook her head. “I don’t know. Something’s missing. I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Hm. Maybe I can help.”

Kipling didn’t expect Asra to take her by the chin and pull her attention away from the little pot of soil. He tilted her head back as he threaded an arm around her waist and hugged her against him. Though his hold on her was strong, his kiss was lithe and supple.

Kipling momentarily lost herself, forgetting about the damn carrots along with everything else in the room. She followed the currents of magic passing from Asra to her. He deepened the kiss so she could chase them further.

Then with a sigh and a contented smile, Asra released her. All she had to hold onto now was the concentration of lavender tones in his hooded gaze.

Kipling exhaled. “Thanks a lot. You expect me to be able to focus after that?”

Asra’s smile only grew more confident. “Just try it one more time.”

Kipling was not amused as she turned to the pot and started over again. With a deep breath, she initiated a stillness within herself, within her thoughts as she sank her fingers into the soil. Those tingling charged particles from Asra’s lips sparked again along her skin. Like a tiny lightning storm, they traveled and flashed from her head to her fingertips.

“I . . . I think I did it!”

Kipling and Asra both bent over the pot as she dug out the result of her spell. They were definitely carrots and thankfully, they weren’t shaped like starfish, but...

Kipling giggled. “They’re purple!”

Not the rusty purple like the ones that grew in the wild. These carrots were luminous and enchanting, much like Asra’s eyes. They were so attractive that Kipling would usually hesitate to chop them up and throw them in a pan. But she was hungry and as wondrous as this vegetable looked, she wanted to eat it.

Asra, who shared that sentiment, did not hesitate to clean them off and chop them up. Then he turned the heat up on the pan and sauteed them in with the onions, beef and other sauces. They both watched on in amusement as the glowing carrots dyed the sauce and the onions the same color.

They ate their dinner on the sofa, musing over how Muriel might react to Kipling’s new trick. Asra shot her another teasing grin as he casually held up his fork and twirled a glistening carrot chunk.

“So, I was thinking . . . what color do you think these would be if it was Muriel you kissed?”

Kipling was too hungry and exhausted from the spell to properly sass him back. So she picked a carrot out from her bowl and tossed it at his face.

“Oh, shut up.”

[the-melting-world]

Asra? Jealous?

This was fun. Gives a little insight into Kipling’s magic. 

~ 1.8K words

***

“All I’m asking for is one more day, Asra.”

You hate the effect your words are having on him, but you were tired of this.

Face contorted from fighting an internal battle, Asra says, “I’m sorry, but I’m so close. I have to go back tonight.”

You know you are fighting a losing battle, but say it anyway. “At least let me come with you.”

Asra shakes his head, gesturing to the garden in which the two of you are standing. “You have responsibilities here. We’ve talked about this, Kipling. I’m not going to make you uproot your life just to help me solve my problems. It’s not fair.”

You have words for Asra, but they never seem to come out right. You still haven’t found a way to tell him that you don’t care about putting your life on hold if it means you can help him find his parents. You’ve tried to explain in the past, but whenever he pushed you to know why you were willing to go that far... well, that’s the part where you always choke.

The tension between you and him is broken by the presence of a newcomer. You recognize the soft rustle of rich fabrics before you see who they belong to.

“Nadia,” you breathe, relieved that she came to interrupt this increasingly painful conversation.

Her smile is always stunning and you are grateful when she pulls you into one of her most sincere embraces. You can tell by the way she holds you that she knows that you are in distress. But like always, she’s very tactful in her actions.

After letting go, she grants Asra a warm greeting and says, “Asra, I wonder if I might borrow you for a spell.” She gives an imperceptible chuckle at her own joke. “I’m afraid I might have a strange magical anomaly occurring over there by the –” She leads Asra away with ease. He glances back a few times to try to read your face, but you pretend to go back to work, measuring overgrowth in the hedges.

After they have covered a certain distance, you stop miming. You can still see them, but their voices are nothing but muffled cadence patterns faint on the breeze. 

You wander along the bushes, trying not to sulk. Would it be even worth it to spend the rest of the afternoon upset with Asra? Or did you want to go another day suppressing your discomfort with how much he has been away?

You are not brooding for long before you hear the sharp breaking of twigs and the sounds of someone arguing with themselves.

Desperate for some kind of distraction, you peel back a clump of foliage to see a figure too overgrown to be crawling around in such a tight space.

“Oh?” The stranger glances up. “Don’t mind me. I’m just . . .” He looks down at his hands, which are covered in splotchy red rings. That’s when you realize where he’s crouched.

“Don’t move,” you whisper, keeping your gaze locked on his feet. “You’re standing in a patch of trigger toadstool.”

You try to find a safe path for him to step. One wrong move and he could activate a poisonous gas. The stranger’s thighs wobble as he fights to hold his balance. He’s not going to make it. 

You throw yourself forward, seize him by the collar and call upon your magic. The two of you slide through the bushes, passing through every solid surface as if it’s nothing more than an illusion.

When you are a safe distance from the mushrooms, you let your magic drop. 

Then you look up at the idiot you just rescued. 

“Did you just save me from that mushroom? Really, you shouldn’t have.”

His grin is a little too broad and the arch in his brow a bit too high for you to agree with his lighthearted assessment of near death.

You roll to your knees, putting some distance between you and him. While you pick the brambles out of your hair and clothing, you manage to get a read on him.

Spidery limbs, pale skin, and dark auburn hair that, you hate to admit, tumbled in all the right places.

You ask him outright, “Dr. Devorak, right?”

Dusting off his own clothes, he says, “Oh, you can can call me Julian –”

“What are you doing back here . . . in the bushes?”

He lifts a finger. “An excellent question. I was looking for herbs to use in a birthday soup. But that’s not really important right now.” He nearly throws his whole body forward onto his knuckles as he leans in your direction. Studying you with one round, curious gray eye, he says, “Tell me more about you.”

You fight the urge to shrink back. This close, you can smell the combination of black coffee and brine on his breath.

Holding out your hand, you say, “I’m Kipling, the uh . . . royal gardener’s apprentice.”

Julian beams handsomely as he seizes your hand and brings you to a standing position in one swift motion. Once you’re steady on your feet, he lets go. 

“Kipling . . . I don’t suppose you might be willing to lend your botanical expertise to assist me in locating the necessary herbs?”

You ignore how his goofy expression from earlier is suppressed by this new lingering smolder.

You cross your arms. “I’d be willing.”

The swaggering charm slips by a fraction. “Kipling! Where have you been all my life?”

You help Julian, showing him the difference between herbs and poisonous growth. You listen passively while he prattles on about a woman, Mazelinka, and how she deserves the best soup for her birthday. You don’t have to heart to tell him this, but you think it’s going to take a lot more than the right herbs for this mess of a man to figure out how to successfully prepare a meal.

The two of you are on your knees, going through a patch of lemon thyme, when you see Julian plucking yet another poisonous shrub out of the ground.

You snatch it from him. “Julian. Not again. This is poisonous too.”

He huffs, “Honestly, Kips, they all look the same to me.”

You chuckle. “Look, I’ll show you the difference again.”

His brow naturally lifts as you take his hand and guide it over the surface of the shrub. You explain as you lightly brush the fuzzy leaves, “You can tell the difference in the texture.” Then you bring his hand to the herbs. “See how that’s more smooth?”

Julian doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to the plants. His uncovered eye is more focused on you. 

“I think I get it,” he says softly. “Like this?”

He gently plucks the plants away, takes you by your wrists, and draws them up until your palms are resting on his center of his chest.

You swallow as his pectorals flex under your fingers. His hair leaves tiny impressions in your skin as he drags your hands across.

“Rough . . .”

He reaches out and slides his knuckles along your jaw.

“Smooth.”

Your speech abandons you as he draws your hands up again. 

“Right. I went a little too fast. One more time.”

You stifle a giggle as he sweeps your hands over his chest for a second time. Your fingers itch to grasp the collar of his tunic and open it a little wider. But Julian moves too quickly, ducking his head towards your bare shoulder and nuzzling his cheek against your skin.

Your own eyebrow lifts in a silent dare. 

Julian catches on fast. He turns into your shoulder and gives it an experimental kiss.

“Smooth?” You whisper.

His eye contact doesn’t waver as his mouth finds the spot again.

“Mmm. Very.”

His lips climb up your neck, activating your senses in a way that hasn’t happened for some time now.

“Dr. Devorak, are you becoming well acquainted with my gardener?”

Nadia’s husky purr makes you both startle. You look sheepishly up at her and Asra, who doesn’t meet your eyes, but looks cold and distant all the same. 

Julian is unruffled as he hauls you back onto your feet. “Oh yes, we were looking for herbs for Mazelinka’s birthday soup.”

Asra smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. “Was Kipling helpful?”

“Oh, she definitely was.” Julian looks at you, his gaze lingering perhaps longer than necessary.

You tear your eyes away from Julian and try again to meet Asra’s. His gaze is unreadable, but you have no doubt that he saw most of your exchanges with the doctor. Part of you is not upset that he had, but now was not the best time to go rocking the boat.

Your concerns dissolve when Asra suddenly reaches for you and pulls you against his chest. With apparently no concern for Nadia or Julian, he gathers you in his arms. Then he kisses you like . . . like there was no one else around. 

When Asra shows no sign of slowing down, you surrender to his untethered kiss and lose yourself in the moment. 

Somewhere in the background, Julian clears his throat and Nadia gives a throaty chuckle. But none of that matters when Asra’s holds you so tightly, you’re convinced your feet have left the ground.

When he pulls away, you still feel like you’re floating.

“Join me for a bath?”

Remembering who was standing mere feet away, you feel your face burn. Once again, this was so unlike Asra. It was no secret that you two were together, but he was usually more private about your personal affairs. 

He watches you expectantly, but you can’t help glancing around at your unmoving audience. Nadia is quiet, yet very clearly enjoying herself. Julian, who only moments ago had no idea who you were, gawks on, his gaze swinging from Asra to you and back again.

“Kipling?” Asra nudges you with his forehead. His fluffy mop tickles you and draws your focus back to him.

You feel your face heat up as you say barely above a whisper, “Yes. Let’s . . . take a bath.”

You don’t have a chance to say goodbye to Nadia or Julian as Asra pulls you away. 

Behind you, Nadia says to Julian, “Digging through my gardens again, doctor?”

“I know. I know. I said I would never do it again, but this time it’s different. It’s for birthday soup!”

There was a pause. And then, “Doctor, you have exactly forty-five seconds to leave before I call Chandra to escort you out.”

Asra bursts into infectious laughter as he continues to lead you towards the palace. You can’t help but laugh too. When you both come down from it, you ask, “Asra, does this mean you’re staying?”

He smiles as he shakes his head. “No. I told you. I have to leave tonight.”

You feel that familiar pang of disappointment.

Then Asra says, “But this time I’m bringing you with me.”

Your heart lifts as you tackle him in your own wild embrace. 

“What made you change your mind?”

Asra presses his lips to your forehead. A laugh comes through in his kiss.

“You can thank Ilya and his birthday soup.”