#Modern Room Darkening Curtains

[masteringlight]

Modern Room Darkening Curtains: Elevate Your Home's Ambiance

At Lanting Curtains, our mission is to enhance the beauty and functionality of every space by providing stylish and practical modern room-darkening curtains. We strive to deliver high-quality products that surpass customer expectations while promoting sustainability through eco-friendly materials and ethical production practices. Our ultimate objective is to create a comfortable and peaceful atmosphere in every home or office, inspiring people to live their best lives.

[heavensgxte]

Besieged part II

part one

tw - noncon, forced marriage, pregnancy mentions, breeding kink, blowjobs, naoya being naoya and being an asshole. naoyas shitty excuse of foreplay. not beta read

wc- 2.1k

by clicking read more you are agreeing to consume and read dark content.

a/n- hey…how y’all doin. don’t hate me for posting this over two years later lolol i honestly didn’t think i’d ever get back to this but. i have had been on a writing kick lately. i hope my skills haven’t completely disappeared. thank you for all the love for part one.

You wake up the next morning, covered in dry cum. You feel its presence still very much so stuffed into your cunt. You also feel a warm body draped over yours, looking over at the table you do see a glass of water. You also feel a flaccid cock you must have been warming all night long.

Did he really fuck you until he passed out? You reason he probably did. You look towards the window to find the sun just beginning to rise, not being able to stop the few tears that escape your eyes, a true moment to yourself, sort of. For the last week, the weight of your situation settles, is this really how you’re going to spend the rest of your life?

Eventually, you reckon you had silently cried yourself back to sleep. It was the fact that when you had come to again, your now husband wasn't sprawled out on top of you. But a maid with a worried look on her face gently tapping you awake. Telling you it was time to change the bedding, her skittish voice starting to pull away the curtains of grogginess out of your system.

You make sure to give her a warm smile, nodding and giving a soft thank you. Making a mental note to treat the staff nicely, showing them you are nothing like that vile man you have been legally bound to.

The maid turns away to give you privacy as you move your sore body to plant your feet on the cold floor. Seeing a note laying on your bedside table, picking it up you read it over. “I will be attending my own duties until mid-day, don’t bother me, I shall come find you when I deem it is time. Don’t miss me too much <3” You scoff crumpling the note and tossing it where you found it.

Shivering you pull on the robe nearby, letting the soft fabric hug your frame, giving another smile to the maid, you make your way to the washroom and out of her way. You spot the shower and take a better look at the elegant room. The ofuro and shower separated, traditional yet modern touches adjourning the room. Both bathing options are definitely big enough for two, you mentally note that he had done that on purpose. Looking between the two options, a soak in the ofuro seemed more tempting, something to soothe your aching body from the rough treatment you had taken last night.

Taking a good look in the mirror as you begin to fill up the bath, your eyes widen at the state of your body. Darkened marks adorn your neck and chest, accompanied by bite and scratch marks decorating your thighs and waist. Is he even human? You surely don’t remember the sex being this animalistic, but your fucked out brain probably drifted off after your second or third orgasm you presume.

Hopefully he isn’t this insatiable every night. The thought sends shivers down your spine, keeping yourself distracted by adding salts and herbs you had found sitting out into the steaming water.

Carefully stepping in and letting the warmth consume you, you close your eyes and lean your head back, letting daydreams run through your weary head as you lean it against the edge of the appliance. Near dissociation when.

The brash opening of the door rips you out of your thoughts, you hear his footsteps before you see him round the corner quickly. Ripping you out of your dream-like state, sending your nervous system into fight or flight mode, a shrill gasp emitting from you.

“Ah ha there you are. I was wondering if you were going to wake up or not before the sun went down.” Naoya says as if it was a matter of fact. Cat like eyes trying to peer beneath. “I was looking all over for my little wife.” The man poses with a faux stretch. “I got done with my duties early, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of the evening playing with my new toy.” He begins to shed his daily attire.

Sighing, but not quite in defeat you close your eyes and begin to mutter “well excuse me for trying to take even a bath by my-”

Before you could even finish the sentence, you heard it before you felt it. A smack resounding in the room before your hand flies to your face to soothe the stinging pain. Shocked with wide eyes you avert your profile to him.

You are met with a stern look to his amber eyes, face unreadable. “I will tolerate little from you. I knew choosing you there would be some pushback, a stubborn woman such as yourself. However,  you are smart enough to know and follow expectations regarding being my wife. I do not tolerate back talk. The rumors surrounding my clan are indeed true. We expect traditional wives. You will be absolutely no different.”

Flabbergasted you cannot control your rising emotions as they burst through the seams. “Expectations?! Guidelines?! I didn’t even want this!” No, you will not cry. Not in front of him.

A strong hand grips your face, a force even pulling you from the ofuro. “This. Isn’t. About. You.” Venom laced in his words as he shook your head back and forth. “I don’t care what you want. Surprise wife! You are here for me and me alone. That is your purpose in your pathetic life. Serve me. Warm my bed. Be my personal fuckhole. And bare me an heir. Speaking of fuckholes….” Naoya mumbles. Fumbling around with the cloth on his body. Slipping all of it off, the light illuminating off of his body, accentuated by the steam.

You’d be lying to yourself as to say he did not have a nice body. He did, and a nice cock, 7 and a half inches or so with decent girth and a perfect curve. You would know, the entire night the damn thing was inside of you, you are now very much so used to it.

To add on to his earlier statement, you are being gripped by the nape of the neck, Naoya standing on the stool you use to step into the tub, but he’s not stepping on.

“Open that whore mouth my dear beloved.” How can someone’s words be so venomous yet patronizing?

Taking a moment to process you don’t even see his hand come down to pinch your left nipple, the gasp parting your lips is all he needs to shove it in between your parted lips. Going slow and taking your time is not your dear husband's forte, obviously. As he is instantly gripping the sides of your slippery cheeks and moving his hips to fuck his cock farther and farther down your throat. Your gags, and spluttering echo to and fro through the bathroom, along with the sound of his balls, slapping your chin, pulsing with the need for release.

Though the man above you is groaning, face scrunched up in concentration and pleasure. He protests a moment. “No, no no, fuck, no, need your cunt. Gimme…” Naoya begins to mumble, pulling you up by your arm from the ofuro. “Bend over the edge, yeah, yeah just like that.”

You know it’s futile to argue, and you can’t deny, that he does feel good, is that why your body is betraying you when you arch yourself over the edge of the bathroom appliance? Why you don’t kick and scream when you feel him spread your cheeks to get an adequate view of your cunt glistening with bath water, slightly covered in suds from your attempt of relaxation? Is it that deep down you know that submitting to him is your best option right now? Can you really do this for the rest of your life? In such a compromising position, your thoughts run wild.

All thoughts stop racing through your mind when you feel the head of his cock push in through your tight hole. Shaky trembling hands gripping your hips tightly. Naoya’s head is also whirring in pleasure, just like yours.

“Fuck fuck it’s just as tight as last night.” A sigh emits his mouth. As if his cock in your pussy could melt all his stresses and worries away. Fuck. Is all that he can formulate. Using his hands to bring you back and forth on his erection. A moan threatens to emit from your mouth before you cover it with your hand, no you cannot give him that satisfaction. Biting down on your hand for some semblance of control.

A semi cold hand finds its way to your warm slick breast, a hardy squeeze as he brings up his tempo. “Y-yeah” he groans. “Take it, like you’re meant to. All you’ll ever be good for anyways.” Naoya growls, speeding up his thrusts. Biting down on your shoulder. Angling his hips to hit deep inside your cunt over and over your G-spot. You swear you can feel him in your chest at this point.

Your hand falls to the edge of the tub squeezing the edge in an attempt to ground yourself from the new found angle. You do not want to give him the satisfaction of his use of your body as his own personal fuck-hole, that he could make you cum from the treatment as well.

“Fu- shit. You’re milking me you bitch!” His teeth detach from your shoulder, his hand gathering at the crown of your head to hold onto your hair and bring his body towards him. “Look at me.” The blond demands. Pace never falters. “A fucking mess from a little fucking.” He hisses. “Who owns you?”

As if he can talk, he’s practically panting and drooling like an animal in heat. The latter question sparks a flood of defiance in you, moving your head side to side.

“Tell me who you belong to if you wanna cum. Otherwise, you can just suck me off and I'll finish all over that pretty face. I don’t fucking care.”

You jolt in surprise as you feel his hand on your clit, lithe fingers swirling the bud. Teasingly coming and going each time you tighten around him. The itch that needs to be scratched is becoming a far bigger problem. Your inhibitions going out the window.

I mean, it's four words, it can't hurt right? Just this once you reason.

“I belong to…” You muster the reward of Naoya’s fingers rubbing your bundle slightly faster. The sounds of your moans and his hips slapping yours echoing in the bathroom.

“G-go on I can’t hold out much longer, stupid cunt feels too good.”

“I-I Belong to y-you! Na-Naoya!” You finally snap at the same time your husband increases the pace of both his fingers and thrusts. Your cunt squeezing him so tight he can barely pull out to go back in, your release exiting out of your spent pussy, splashing on Naoya’s pelvis.

“Too tight, too tight SHIT!” The man curses, pushing himself practically against your womb as you hear him growl, squeezing your body to him so tightly not even paper could come between.

You feel the final twitch as you come down from your high. Warm spurts of cum filling you to the brim.

Naoya pulls out slightly wincing as his spent cock falls out. Mesmerized seeing his pearly cum in your thoroughly abused pussy. Two fingers wasting no time to push it deeper. “I-it has to take. You need to be knocked up.” He pants, as you turn your head worried eyes widening. “Need to make sure you can’t leave. Even if you tried.” The latter part of the sentence comes out more dark as the former.

As you sit and lament over what just happened. Naoya steps beside you to drain the tub, leaving half the water before he fills it again with warm water. You look at him quizzically, he pays no mind, checking the water. Adding some salt and soap to the bath.  Before lifting you up and setting you in without a word. “I have one more errand to attend to.” He exclaims redressing himself. “I will be eating dinner with you. Your husband says before leaving the bathroom. Not waiting for a response from you.

Shock leaves your system. Did he just… Do something nice for you? You won’t say it’s the best aftercare, but honestly you thought he was just going to leave you on the cold tiled floor. Warmth creeps up to your heart at the gesture. You shake your head, scolding yourself. You cannot fall for crumbs. Never for him, anyone but him.

You can figure something out, you reason. Find a way to leave and keep your family safe at the same time. Change your names, move out of the country, something! You cannot stay here, if you don’t leave now. You will be stuck under his heel forever.

[potatoplace]

Mastermind

The Upheaval

Dark!Feysand x Reader Modern AU

Part 2 | AO3 link

Mastermind Masterlist | Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

Story Summary: Your friend of a few months, Feyre, invited you out for a celebratory drink over your new job, and of course her husband Rhys joins you. The night doesn't go quite as planned, and you end up back at their place with very few wits about you.

Warnings: Drugging, dub-con / non-con, abduction, smut

Words: ~3.8k

Author's Note: so uhmmmm. This idea. Got me to write. Uhhh. Yeah. Enjoy. I sure did hehe 🤭 the chokehold feysand has on me recently is. Very strong. Near irresistible. There might be future parts to this, I'm not sure yet. Read the warnings please!!

18+ only pls

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

Tonight was supposed to be fun.

Your friends Feyre and Rhys had offered to take you out for a drink at Rita’s when she heard about your new job, doing remote work as a graphic designer for a marketing firm.

Feyre’s had suggested the job after all, knowing that your dream lay beyond the coffee shop that you currently work in- well, used to work in, you had quit earlier that day.

That, plus your new, upscale apartment that you rent at an amazing price had made your year considerably better than the last few.

And tonight was supposed to be fun, you had worn your smallest black dress, with tiny straps just barely holding it onto your body.

Yet here you were, being driven home after only two drinks, sitting in the backseat of Rhys and Feyre’s car in Feyre’s arm. You felt dizzy, and heated all over.

It was the type of drunk you rarely felt- overwhelmingly needy and aroused.

You just needed to make it home, and thankfully Rhys and Feyre live in the same building, so there’d be no problems with getting you into your apartment.

This building has way more security than your last apartment, there you were lucky to have never been broken into, with how many times your previous neighbors had been stolen from.

The car came to a slow, smooth stop, and you heard a car door open and shut. Then, one of Feyre’s arms moved from your body, causing you to whine as she opened the door on her side.

The door on your end of the car opened, and you were quickly pulled into the arms of someone warm and solid.

Keeping your eyes open was a struggle, but you managed to tilt your head up, gaze passing over a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and finally locking briefly with intense violet eyes. Rhys smiled down at you, eyes darkened with-

Something.

You were just tired and dizzy and you- oh, you need a shower. The water could drown out your noises, just in case the state you’re in makes you louder than usual. Your thighs rubbed together slightly as your mind wandered, already set on having the feeling of warm water hitting your skin and your hand between your thighs.

Your eyes closed as the three of you passed through a doorway, and a few dings of the elevator later Rhys is walking once more, gentle movements only making you sleepier.

He sets you on the floor gently once you’re in your apartment only-

It’s not your apartment.

“We didn’t think you should be alone right now, darling, with how you’re feeling,” Feyre explained softly, one of her hands already wrapping around yours. “Did you need anything?”

“A shower,” you blurted out, more than ready to have the smell of the club, however faint it was, off of your skin.

“That we can provide, darling,” Rhys said, smacking your ass as he walked away from the both of you. You turned to say something to him, but Feyre was already moving, leading you by the hand.

You passed though a luxurious bedroom, with a California king bed draped in black silk standing out most to you. You could see chains attached to the posts-

“Here we are, Y/N. Did you need help with anything?” Feyre asked, waving her hand to the large bathroom she had taken you too. The shower was open, no curtain or door to close it off from the rest of the room.

You simply shook your head. You could manage a shower on your own, surely, you were already feeling a little better than in the club. “Thank you, Fey,” you said softly, taking her in for a hug.

“Oh, it’s nothing sweetheart. Absolutely nothing,” Feyre replied, pushing the hair away from your face and gathering it into a bun for you, securing it with the scrunchie she’d gotten while you weren’t paying attention. She started the water for you before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

You used a makeup wipe to rid yourself of your makeup, feeling far too greasy to not wash your face, then quickly stripped off your dress and your panties and slipped into the stream of water, sighing when the warm water hit your skin. It felt just as good as you imagined- and then your thoughts went back to what you’d thought of on the way up the elevator.

Your hand slipped down, landing between your thighs as water poured over you. Your fingers dipped between your folds, your cunt already thoroughly drenched even without the water running between your legs. You swirled your fingers around your clit slowly, letting out soft sighs every now and then. The pleasure in your gut grew as you moved them faster-

“Y/N? Did you need help with anything?” Feyre asked through the door, and you quickly moved your hands from between your thighs.

“No, Fey, I’m alright,” you said, cheeks blazing with heat.

“Rhys had a nice idea, would you like to go swimming?” Feyre offered, and you turned to your right to see that she’s in the room with you. You covered your chest, keeping as much of yourself hidden as you could.

Swimming could be nice. And you’d seen their pool, it had such a pretty view, and you’d never gone in it before. You nodded your head, eyes taking note of the bikini in Feyre’s hands.

“Good, you can wear this, darling. I’ll be waiting for you outside, don’t take too long,” Feyre said, blowing you a kiss before she closed the door behind her.

Your cheeks heated even further, you’d never had such a nice and friendly female friend before, let alone such a pretty one. Your thoughts strayed to what Feyre would look like in a bikini- absolutely perfect, you were sure. Fingers dipped back between your thighs, rubbing quick circles over your clit, you just needed to cum once, once then you could go enjoy the rest of your night with your friends-

A knock at the door, right as you were about to finish.

Feyre entered without waiting for you to respond, this time without the stunning black dress she’d been wearing before. Instead, she was completely naked.

You blushed profusely, turning your eyes away from her.

“Oh, darling, you can look all you like. I just thought, since you’re taking so long and I need to shower, I’d come in and just get mine done at the same time.” Feyre paused. “I could leave, if you’d like,”

Your brain was short circuiting, being so close to your incredibly beautiful, incredibly sexy friend of a few months. “Oh, that’s, uhm… that’s fine, Fey.”

Feyre smiled, getting a bit closer to you. “Good. Did you need help getting clean, sweetness?” Feyre asked, her chest nearly touching yours, still covered by your arms. She already had a cloth filled with soap in her hands and began running it across your shoulders soothingly. Your arms slowly feel from your chest, and Feyre took the opportunity to step closer, arms practically wrapped around you as she used the cloth to clean your back, her breasts pressed against yours.

You could hardly breathe, this woman, your friend was so perfect and naked and-

The cloth slipped over your cunt, Feyre’s deft fingers quickly rubbing it over your clit, and a quiet moan escaped you. The cloth was gone a second later, two of Feyre’s fingers sinking into your cunt as the other hand came to rub circles on your clit. You came shamefully quickly, already having worked yourself up so high before your friend entered the room.

“Good girl,” Feyre whispered against your ear before pressing hot kisses down your neck, only pulling away to grab the cloth off the floor of the shower and begin washing you once more. Once she was finished, she pushed you back into the stream of water, rinsing the suds off of your body. “Help me out?” Feyre asked, hands already pushing the cloth into yours. When you hesitated, she made puppy dog eyes at you. “I helped you, pleeease Y/N?”

That was all you needed, body moving of its own accord as your hands used the cloth to clean her body, trying not to linger too long on her breasts, ass, and her sweet looking pussy that at the moment you knew you wanted nothing more than to bury your face in. Feyre rinsed herself off, her hands lingering over the spots you’d wanted to touch longer. You were on the verge of getting on your knees and begging when Rhys’s voice came from the doorway.

“You ladies are so gorgeous,” he said, walking further into the room, and it was then that you noticed- he’s naked, his long, thick cock bobbing invitingly at you, already hard and waiting. You managed to snap your eyes away from him, only to land on Feyre’s chest.

Fuck, it should be illegal for these two to be this hot, you thought to yourself, thighs pressing together as you tried to look anywhere but at your two friends.

“Thank you, Rhys,” Feyre said, walking out of the shower and pulling him with her into it. “You can shower, the two of us will get in the pool. Right Y/N?”

You nodded, letting her grab your hand and lead you over to the towels. She dried you off, lingering over your sensitive areas longer than necessary, then helped dress you in the bikini she was lending you- if you could even call it that. It was practically strings, with small stars of fabric to cover your nipples and a slightly thicker strip of fabric to cover your cunt.

But, if your friends had already seen you naked… what’s the harm?

Feyre was dressed similarly, her bikini in black instead of your silver set. She pulled you out of the bathroom, through their bedroom and out onto the patio. Feyre sat at the edge of the pool, patting the ground next to her, and you joined her a moment later.

You sighed, then leaned your head onto Feyre’s shoulder.

“Feeling better yet, darling?” She asked, her right arm coming up to circle around your shoulders. You nodded against her shoulder, kicking your legs gently in the water. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Would either of you ladies like another drink?” Rhys asked from behind you.

“Yes please, Rhysie,” Feyre responded. “She’ll have a soda, I think. Hmm, baby? Does that sound good?” You nodded your head in confirmation. In no world do you need another drink at this point, for gods sake your friend already made you-

“Let’s get in the water, darling.” Feyre slipped in the pool, water coming to just under her barely covered breasts. “Join me?” She asked coyly, and you couldn’t help but follow her in, making your way to her immediately. The water came up to your collarbones, your height difference feeling so pronounced as you looked up at her, half expecting her to make another move.

“Here we are.” Rhys’s voice cut through the bubble you and Feyre had been in for a moment. You turned to look at him and saw that he was already sitting at the edge of the pool the two of you had entered at, two drinks in hand.

You and Feyre made your way to him, happily taking the drinks from his hand and watching as he slipped into the pool. The height difference between the two of you took your breath away slightly, you felt so small next to him. You took a few greedy sips of your soda to cover up how flustered you are around the couple tonight, every little thing about them seems to be turning you on more and more.

Feyre had taken a sip of her drink and set it back down, choosing to follow Rhys a bit deeper into the water.

You could see as he cupped her ass in his hands, her legs wrapping around his waist as they kissed passionately in front of you-

And you wanted, no, needed to be a part of that, your body already moving towards them before you were able to stop yourself. You turned back to the edge of the pool, feeling hot and dizzy with need like you had been earlier at Rita’s. Quickly, you set your drink on the smooth stone at the edge of the pool and took a few deep breaths.

These are your friends. They’re married. Stop being a whore-

Arms wrapped around you, and Feyre’s soft chest met your back. “Hi darling, not getting too lonely, are you?” She asked lowly in your ear, then pressed a soft trail of kisses from behind your ear all the way down your neck and onto your shoulder. You were leaning back against her by the time she came back up to your ear, lightly tugging on it with her teeth. “Turn around for me, sweetness,” she told you, hands helping move you where she wanted. “Perfect,” Feyre said breathily, before leaning down and pressing her lips against yours softly. The feel of her plush lips on yours was perfect, so gentle and warm. After a few seconds her tongue darted out, and you let her take control of the kiss, dominating your mouth with hers as she pushed you back against the wall of the pool.

When the two of you came up for air, you were filled with need so great you thought you might burst. You noticed a strong, tan pair of arms caging the two of you against the pool wall, and looked up to meet Rhys’s gaze. His violet eyes were filled with lust, matching the grey blue eyes of his wife that were also locked on yours. “What do you say darling? Be ours?” He asked, eyes darting down to your lips.

You tried to think about it, really think about it, but one of Feyre’s hands was between your thighs again, pushing past the tiny bikini and playing with your clit. Your eyes fell shut at her touch, a moan already making its way past your lips.

“Please,” you whined, not fully sure what you were begging for, you just knew that you needed more.

One thick finger slid into you, nearly as big as both of Feyre’s were earlier, and another moan fell from your lips, this one going into Feyre’s shoulder where you’d collapsed into her, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

“Oh, sweetness, I think it’s time,” Feyre said, disconnecting herself from you. “Get her into the bathroom, Rhys,” she ordered, already pulling herself out of the pool.

You were barely keeping yourself up, but Rhys moved closer to you, pulling you in to his chest. His kissed you gently, drawing a sweet sigh from your lips before he stopped and pushed you up onto the ledge of the pool, then followed you up. He helped you stand, and picked you up after you nearly fell after three steps.

“Silly girl, don’t worry, we’ll have you all nice and comfy in bed soon,” Rhys said, carrying you into the bathroom, where Feyre was already naked and rinsing off. “You got to dress her, I get to undress her,” Rhys snapped at Feyre when she tried to come over to you. She rolled her eyes, but stayed under the stream of water, waiting for both of you.

Rhys slowly peeled the bikini off of you, taking his time to squeeze your breasts and pinch your nipples hard enough to make you gasp, and grazing his fingers over your sensitive clit teasingly a few times. As soon as you were bare Feyre came over and pulled you back into the shower while Rhys rid himself of his swim trunks.

The warm spray felt nice on your skin again, especially paired with the gentle touches of the couple surrounding your senses. One of them gently guided your face under the spray of water, and the other cleaned your face with a familiar smelling soap. They rinsed your face carefully, then shut the water off and four hands began drying you off. Once your face was dry you opened your eyes to see Feyre’s pretty ones staring back at you.

“Let’s get your skincare done, sweetness,” she suggested, leading you over to the counter after Rhys had finished drying your body. Feyre applied a toner, moisturizer and eye cream, all of them the same ones that you used daily.

“That’s funny…” you said, trailing off.

“What is, darling?” Rhys asked from where he was stood behind you, arms encircling your torso. You stared at his thick arms, how muscular they are… then you realized that you could feel him- hard and pressed against your lower back. “What’s funny?” He whispered in your ear, and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what he was talking about.

You didn’t respond. More like couldn’t, when his lips started sucking a deep, purple mark onto your neck and Feyre’s lips covered your own hungrily.

You were nothing but a quivering, needy mess when they pulled away, but luckily for you it was just to move you into the bedroom, onto their massive bed.

“Finally,” Feyre groaned at the sight of you spread out in the middle of their bed, your legs kept apart by their hands. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to taste this sweet pussy?” She asked you, looking expectantly down at your face. “Hmm?” She tapped her thumb on your clit twice, making your hips twitch. You shook your head. “Since the moment I met you. I knew that I needed to have you, that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you weren’t mine and Rhys’s,” Feyre explained, now rubbing small, even circles on your clit. “And luckily for me, well, Rhys has a pretty big breeding kink and once he saw you…” Feyre grinned down at you, eyes soft.

“I knew I had to have you as well,” Rhys finished for her, his head already dipping down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. Your back arched as he teased it with his tongue, and between that and Feyre’s fingers you came quickly, breathy moans escaping your lips until Rhys’s mouth was over yours again. “Fuck, you are absolutely perfect,” he groaned.

Feyre fingers had moved away from you, and you were about to whine at the lack of stimulation before her mouth, warm and wet, began devouring you. She lapped up the slick that had leaked from you greedily before moving up to your clit. Feyre slowly licked at your sensitive bud, building up your pleasure once more as Rhys kissed you and played with your breasts, swallowing up the endless moan leaving you. When you were finally able to lift your head an look down at Feyre, you saw that she was grinding her thighs together as she ate you out with her eyes closed, and the sight of her so focused on your pleasure bringing you to the brink once more. You could hardly think when she climbed over you and kissed you, before moving up your body again and seating herself over your face.

Without a thought you flicked your tongue out, moaning at how wet she already was- for you.

Your arms came up to hold onto her thighs as licked at her center hungrily, sure that you had that same expression on your face that she had worn just moments before. You were happily sucking on your clit when you felt your legs being parted by-

Rhys was pushing in to you, the movement of his cock eased by how slick you were, and you moaned into Feyre’s cunt.

“Fuck, Y/N, don’t stop,” Feyre ordered breathlessly as she ground her hips down onto your face, forcing you to give she needs. She came on your face right as Rhys fully seated himself inside of you, all of the breath leaving your lungs as he did.

“Fey, she feels amazing. So tight and hot, I don’t know that I’ll ever leave the house again,” Rhys remarked as he began moving in and out of you slowly, letting your cunt adjust to his size as much as it could.

“Good thing we don’t have to for the next week,” Feyre said, still working her hips over your mouth, keeping your senses entirely filled by herself and her husband. Rhys started picking up the pace soon, letting one of his thumb graze over your clit every few seconds, your walls gripping him tighter in response. “Mm, fuck,” Feyre moaned, cumming on your face again, letting her hips twitch over you a few times before climbing off of you and sliding down so she could kiss your swollen lips. “We have plenty of time to train our new little pet.

“Train-?” You started to ask, but Feyre covered your mouth with hers once more, using her fingers to take over for Rhys’s thumb on your clit.

Moans were spilling out of you again whenever your mouth was unoccupied, which wasn’t often. Rhys has figured out just the angle to hit to make you see stars, barely even needing Feyre’s fingers to topple over the edge before Rhys followed you, slotting his hips tightly against yours as he emptied his cum into you.

After he pulled out he kissed you tenderly, fingers pushing as much of his cum back into you as possible as he did so. Your cunt fluttered around the tips of his fingers, so sensitive to every little touch now.

Feyre had disappeared, but came back into the room from the bathroom, a wet wash cloth in hand, and she carefully cleaned off your face.

“I guess we could have waited to do the skincare, hmm?” Feyre asked amusedly, taking in how wrecked you looked already.

“It was just a different kind of facial, darling,” Rhys said, humor in his voice. “Besides, her face is bound to get dirty again before the morning.”

“I suppose that’s true, her mouth is like magic Rhys, I’m sure with a little training she’ll be just as perfect at it as you are,” Feyre said, her thoughts already drifting to riding your face once more.

You were nearly asleep by the time Feyre was done cleaning your face, barely registering the feeling of something being wrapped around your throat and a gentle snick of something latching shut, but you were too tired to think about anything as Feyre and Rhys settled in around you, keeping you secure between their arms.

Lemme know if you guys want a part 2 🫣

[arzen9]

wip wednesday

AND it's wednesday too! look at me!

thank you for the tag, @vividiana! i, too, have decided to be horny AND weird on main today lol

here is another sneek peek to the modern au that i'm working on (i swear it's coming, i'm just struggling with writing these days lol). also, you might notice that i have changed the main character to be Lark instead of Lamby. there is no real reason for it other than i love Lark and i want her to be in something i write lol

MDNI!!!!

She curses herself for taking the damn thing, but it’s too late now, besides, she’s all alone, in her own home.

So why does it feel so fucking humiliating?

The guy is an asshole, a particularly annoying one at that. Thinks he owns everything. Probably jerks off in front of a mirror and shit.

Why in the hells does that thought make Lark’s mouth go dry?

“For fuck’s sake,” she says to herself, exasperated. She’s in her bed, alone, safe. She’s not being hunted for sport or anything. Why does she feel so hot?

She holds the pen in the air, examining it. It’s weighty, probably expensive. Shiny and silver. The heat of her skin leaves marks on its cold surface. Near the top, his initials are engraved. Two A’s that stand strong, an inseparable pair. Lark thinks back to the sight of him in front of the window in his office, head tilted to one side on top of broad shoulders. The way his voice darkened when he asked her, “Can the lord of the night do this?”, before drawing the curtains wide open to let the blazing sun in.

“Fuck it,” she says and dips a shaky finger in between her folds. She hasn’t been this wet in a long, long time- and she curses, curses, curses herself for it. What the fuck is wrong with her? She feels the shame, the guilt, this is unprofessional, it’s-

A moan, almost a cry, parts her tightly pursed together lips, setting itself free.

What Lark wants right now isn’t slow and gentle, it’s feral and relentless. This is good, she thinks- let me get it out of my system. Because she has to go to work in the morning, and-

What if he can smell her? The evidence of what she’s done? How strong is a vampire’s sense of smell, anyway? A vampire lord, to be exact. If she wasn’t two fingers deep her own cunt she probably would have rolled her eyes.

Are you scared of me? he asks.

Part of her wonders- how would he look straddling her chest with his length buried down her throat?

But she feels so empty, empty, empty.

The pen she took (well, he gave it to her, didn’t he?) is still in her hand, the one that’s not drawing quick circles at the center of her desire. And he did give the pen to her, probably not for her to take home though, definitely not so she could hold on to it while she touches herself to thoughts of him.

Lark looks over to the pen in her hand. It almost looks like it’s daring her to be more wild, more unhinged. The only sound in her room is her own voice. Her own moans. The ever-so silent Lark. The bird that hides its voice.

He has to have put a spell on her.

She takes the pen- everything, everything is burning. Somehow, the pen is still cool to her blazing touch. She presses it down to herself, only for a second- and she cums.

A cry rips itself out of her throat, and the shape of it is scarily similar to his name.

Then the sound of her window closing makes her immediately sit up, all indecent thoughts replaced with something that resembles fear- or curiosity. Astarion’s pen falls on the bed, shinier than it was a few moments ago. Covered in Lark Promise.

i'll tag anyone who wants to share something!!<3

[anlian-aishang]

Vampire!Levi & Cunnilingus

Tags: levi x reader, smut, cunnilingus, period sex, blood, reader is propped against the wall, modern AU, college party, alcohol mention, fem!reader Word count: 2200 A/N: Thank you @bluebellhairpin for putting on the incredible Friday Night Bash! Had too much fun with this event 🖤 A/N2: Wrote a similar fic here if you are interested 🖤

You supposed it was only natural. 

At this age, motivation was a scarce resource. The burlier men donned flannel and jeans and called themselves lumberjacks. Any girl could become any cat with enough black eyeliner. 

Levi was the only vampire here, yet his costume seemed to take no more effort than anyone else’s. If anything, he was born a natural. Thin brows and slivered eyes. Jet black hair and moonlit skin. Fangs just barely curtained by red lips. Simultaneously, somehow the most convincing yet the most casually constructed. 

He noticed, you did too, the utter contrast that your roles conveyed. Levi was dressed head to toe in black, sparing only the white cravat tucked beneath his chin. You, on the other hand, had whipped all the white out from your closet and feigned yourself an angel. In his eyes, you weren’t feigning. House party vape could be reimagined as clouds, a heavenly background to your character. It made you shine through the swarm of sweaty brats. You were one of a handful who was neither spilling their drink nor coughing it up. In the middle of the room, a wallflower, staring down at her virgin spirit and clutching it in two hands. 

White tights hugged your legs. Blank sheer skirt hardly hid that contour. Long sleeves for the cold Halloween night, the layers beneath had compounded to caress your curves. You were covered from top to bottom. Still, Levi could read you like a book. Hard cover. Soft cover. Levi clenched his teeth and growled. 

You looked lonely as ever, tugged in contradictory directions of yearning: begging for someone to start the conversation for you, praying that no one would notice you, imagining meeting a guy here, thinking up excuses to ditch this party early. Your desires, Levi saw them, and he longed to fill all of them.

His hands began to twitch, irritated that his thoughts were getting too sentimental for his liking. Indeed, when his thirst neared such dangerous levels, he found composure harder to retain. Nails curled against the glass highball: is she really the one? 

The one he had traversed miles for. The one he had craved for the past several days. A scent and taste he needed so badly, Levi would suffer a college party for it. After all, that was why he was here. He clutched his head with his hand, silk glove smooth against his forehead. Bangs pushed to the sides, he held that grip and released a heavy sigh. At first, he thought he had done well to pinpoint it to one apartment building, even better to one apartment unit. Only once he ascended the staircase, heard the blaring music and saw the glaring lights, did he realize that the hardest part of this search was yet to come. Over a hundred people here. Half of them potential subjects. All he could do was stand idle and observe feverishly: who was the source?

Already, the bias was brewing for you, it was why his pupils were particularly quick to snap at the sudden drop of red that soiled your pristine outfit. Your inner thigh. Levi blinked harshly, but that trickle did not fade. Better yet, it tracked along the inner seam of your pantyhose: blotting, darkening. 

Toes curled against the soles of his leather shoes. Calves strained to dilute his pace as he began to gravitate towards you. From your perspective, strobe flashes of red made his approach play like a slideshow. Before you could discern who he was and what he was doing, the room would turn black again. Suddenly, he was only inches away, steady eyes met your widened ones.

“H’Hey,” Inside of his gloves, Levi pinched the inside of his palm. The attempt to ground himself did not defeat his stutter. “I thought -” a clear of his throat, “- thought I should let you know…” Levi leaned in, his lips to your ear.

His breath was cold on your skin. Beneath your blouse and in the wake of his chill, you felt your nipples peak against the fabric - even more so when he whispered, “You’re bleeding.”

On your gasp, you nearly choked. Levi found it adorable how you immediately, instinctively, brought your hand between your legs. Shameful was your expression. Shameless were your actions. Beneath your skirt, you palmed around, frantically feeling for proof of his claim. Three fingers to the slip of your panties were quickly soaked. With your gaze deadset in shock then panic, Levi allowed himself a lick of his lips. 

You turned over your shoulder to examine your backside, inadvertently revealing it to him as well. A teardrop of crimson just below your spine, having seeped through your underwear, tights, and skirt, Levi was hyper-aware of how wet you must have been in order to achieve those levels of penetration. The thought, the image, of your skin slickened in syrup made his pants turn tight.

His erection surged further when you beckoned him towards the stairway. “Maybe you could help me find a change of clothes?” 

An invitation.

"And help me out of these ones?"

Though watching you bleed through this outfit would be a fantasy for the millennium, he felt his levels dripping to empty. He needed it. Your blood in him. Now. 

But his needs were far from your mind. It was one of the only reasons your roommates had convinced you to allow them to host this get-together in the first place. You can’t sleep with guys if you don’t meet some guys. They had made it their mission to help you find someone, and it didn’t even have to be an eternal someone - though Levi Ackerman happened to be. Someone to show you a good time, to help you unwind a little. Of course, you would not settle for a trash bag, but a man who was willing to display such honesty and no disgust about the symptoms of your period - he had to be a good one, and he wasn’t hard on the eyes either. 

Your expectations had been low, perhaps a little too low. Least of all nights did you expect a booze-filled Halloween party to be the night that you brought a guy up to your room. Flinging open the door, you were met with violent whiplash: why the hell didn’t I clean?!

Chocolate bar wrappers on the floor. Midol on the nightstand. A box of overnight pads at the foot of the bed. Triple-thick tampons in a plastic bag that hung around the other side of your door handle. Worst of all, blood-stained underwear that had sorely missed the hamper and instead carpeted your floor.

“Oh my god, I’m - I’m so sorry!” You darted into the room and tried to fling the evidence out of sight. Obviously, Levi had just been deathly upfront about noticing your period. Yet, you were mortified, back turned to him and hurling apologies, “This - This is not very sexy, I know.”

Levi could only shake his head and clench his teeth. You had that all wrong. He would take this menstruation-riddled bedroom over a honeymoon suite any night. Silent footsteps brought his front to your back, his palm to your waist, “Just leave it,” Levi exhaled, his voice teetered on moaning, “and leave yourself to me.”

His arousal solid and warm against your blood-soaked backside, your enamor spiked: not only cool about this time of the month, but hot for it. You ground yourself against his member, satisfied with his length, you reached your hand to his neck and pulled him close. “Undress me, Levi.”

You were the only one who viewed this as a one-night stand. If anything, Levi hoped that you would live with him forever, that you would continue to flow, and that he could spend eternity swallowing you down. However, the haste in his movements implied that the two of you shared that one-night fervor. Nails scraped down your hips as he yanked your bloodied tights to your feet. Instead of taking them off, he used the excess length to make knots around your ankles, binding your legs into a loop. 

With inhuman strength and alarming speed, Levi had you in his arms and slammed against your bedroom wall before you could summon the breath to screech. Levi slipped himself within the cage of your legs. Backs of your knees to his shoulders. Heels dug into his nape. Your sex dwindled tantalizingly close to his mouth. 

Holy hell, you gasped, no man had ever had you like this before. By this point, you had learned that period sex was a rarity, receiving head during that time of the month - an impossibility. Instead, Levi dove straight in, unlike any of the rest.

And oh, were you spot-on about that. Levi Ackerman was no man. His skills were no act. The hair, the outfit, the fangs no occasion. This was his truest self: out of this world. He was grateful for the holiday, the one day of the year that his vest, slacks, and perfectly polished shoes would stand out. Levi admired the red lights of the party, making everyone’s irises match his giveaway shade. The greatest obstacle - the invitation, the consent - you had granted before he even had to ask. All tells he had fretted over, you made yourself perfectly blind to them. As your sex bled right before his eyes, he could only chuckle and admit, “so fucking pathetic.” 

Perhaps he was projecting. He had not even tasted you yet, had not even stripped you free, and already, he felt he was on the edge. His tip swelled against the cold metal belt buckle. Black pants hid the damp that precum had created. For a second, his mind flickered: which one of you was more wet? The answer came to him, though, by a glob of blood that dripped from your core and onto his white cravat.

Looking down, you were horrified. Mouth fell agape, an utter loss for words. Levi made up for your shortcomings as his sentiment flowed freely. 

“Oh? What’s this? Having a hard time containing yourself?” At his waist, his arousal made a mockingly timed rise. 

His teasing pricked your skin, each capillary blazed in embarrassment. You could not bear to make eye contact, instead, glued to his pristine white cloth that you had forever tainted. Years of experience, you knew those stains did not come out. 

Levi had a way.

Slowly, his tongue slid over his bottom lip and dragged along the silk threads. One strong, deliberate swipe had erased your DNA from the garment. In the throes of midnight, your eyes struggled to be sure, but Levi himself knew. At the first taste of your blood, he was sparked with revival.

“Mmm,” Levi hummed, “tastes good.” For now, he withheld: even better than I anticipated.

Though neither his hunger nor thirst were yet satiated. Not until you were sucked bone-dry, not until your pussy ran clear. Eating you out, he snuck occasional glances to affirm you were not at those milestones. In his frame of mind, rather, he had not yet brought you to them. 

Levi was the kind to savor the taste, but there was little indication of that on this cold autumn night. The motions of his tongue were swift. His slurping was delectably crude, coating his throat and coaxing out even more dirty talk. His canines grazed your most sensitive spots. You thought to ask him to take his fangs off, but in the end, realized you adored them. Good thing, they were irremovable.

Not one drop of you made it past that cravat. Most of your mess had been clotted by his skin. A red stripe ran down his face as he brought his whole front to the middle of your battle. Sweet metal. Saccharine iron. A salted cocktail. That was your drink - one he guzzled. When you asked for his fingers, he would religiously lick them clean.

Your muscles had grown weak, having lost count of how many times you had climaxed thus far. He had kept you in ignorant, mutually selfish bliss for god knows how long. It was only when you reached your arm towards him, combing through his hair and petting his head, that you realized how drained you were. Hardly able to speak, faint and incoherent, “You like that, huh? Like that, Levi?”

Through drenched bangs, he gazed up to meet your eye contact. So fucked-out, you paid no mind to the scarlet of his stare. “It’s like you can’t get enough.”

Cruelly timed, he felt your ridges start to clench around his face again. Nonchalant, he spoke into you as you began to cum again. “Makes two of us, then.”

Words seemed to make rhythm with your waves, and each one, you swore was better than the last. Tilting your head back against the wall, you arched yourself further into him, “F’Fuck, Levi!!” 

How did he - in just one night - manage to do you like this? 

Little did you know, it was not just one night, but an entire lifetime that he had been waiting, anticipating, preparing for this moment. You would remember this encounter as a night that you happened to cross paths with the man of your dreams. Levi saw it a very different way, no chance happening: the evening that he had scoured enough of this goddamned earth. A tale of lifeblood: the clean freak to your mess, monthly or otherwise.

Kinktober Year 3 Masterlist

[seabirdtxt]

Event batch 4

a little later than i anticipated, but the next batch is here!! only two batches left 🤗🩵 thank you to all my requesters!! and apologies if i deviated from your original prompt these things really take on a mind of their own when i write 🫡

🩵 Check out my other event requests! 🩵

for Anon || Scaramouche x Reader - Modern AU, urban fantasy, monster hunters (not main characters), rivals to friends (implied potential for more)

for @resident-cryptid || Foul Legacy x Reader - SAGAU, imposter hunt

for Anon || Tighnari x Reader - Canon setting, Tighnari x reader, Life & Death trope, reader is a mortician, mention/discussion of deaths

----- ⚘ -----

Of the Night

You clutch your side as you dart down the nearest alleyway, foot splashing into a murky puddle. You haul yourself up the fire escape with one arm, doing your best to move quickly. Once you reach the roof, it’s just a matter of speed.

You jump from building to building, hoping beyond hope that your pursuers aren’t parkour experts. There’s only one place that you can think of, the only place nobody will look for you. Your chances of survival either way seem slim.

You find the building you’re looking for, sliding as quietly as you can off the roof and onto the tiny balcony you hope belongs to the correct apartment. Keeping your fingers crossed, you knock on the window of the sliding glass door.

There’s a shuffle of movement inside, and then the blackout curtains move to the side just enough to let a blade of light hit the corner of your eye. You squint into the brightness, offering an apologetic smile around your elongated canines.

The door slides open and a pale hand reaches through to grab you, yanking you inside. You stumble over the door track, whimpering as the movement jostles the arm that’s holding your wound.

“What the hell happened to you?” Scaramouche hisses, his nose wrinkling at the stench of wolf blood.

“... Hunters afoot,” is all you can say before you collapse from exhaustion.

---

You awake some time later, probably not all that long, with a thick padding of bandages around your torso. You sit up, ignoring the screaming pain from your injury, to take in your surroundings. The room is dark, hardly any decorations on the wall, and the bed you’re stretched out on is plain and uncomfortable, as if it’s never been used.

Scaramouche sits at the end of the bed, wiping blood from his hands with a wet cloth. You snort, drawing his attention. His eyes are electric in the low light.

“I’m surprised you didn’t sneak a little taste, leech,” you taunt. The vampire’s expression darkens and he throws the soiled rag in your face.

“As if I want to know what dog tastes like. That’s the thanks I get for patching up your clumsy ass, mutt?” he demands, his insult not quite landing with how worried he looks. “How did you even let it get this bad? Why didn’t you, y’know, wolf out or something?”

“You can’t climb fences with paws, dummy,” you tell him, wiggling your thumbs in front of his face. He pushes your hands back down with a look of annoyance, the tip of his fangs peeking out over his lip with the expression.

It’s the city’s favourite public scandal, that senator Ei and her son are creatures of the night. Due to their standing, and some pretty hardworking PR agents, they’ve been working on fixing the reputation of monsters year by year. Despite some of the new anti-discrimination laws in place, nothing will stop a very determined hunter from going after random citizens they decide aren’t human enough.

Beastfolk like Doctor Tighnari, and Ei’s own partner Miko, don’t get nearly the same kind of bad rep as werewolves. People like you are still heavily stereotyped, despite the countless arguments that you all retain your sound mind during the transformation.

That’s why you’re here, in your old highschool rival’s apartment on a full moon night instead of running around in the park like you’d originally planned. Everybody knows of the age-old feud between vampires and werewolves. Plus, it’s been years since you last saw each other, nobody will associate you with him these days. Nobody will think to look for you here.

You look at the curtained window, then at Scaramouche, who’s still sitting on the bed. His back is to you, a little bit broader than he used to be when you kicked his ass at track and field. You don’t resist the urge to extend your hand, shifting your nails just a tiny bit, to touch the sharp angles of his shoulder.

You don’t make it, of course. Little bugger had lighting reflexes in school too, even if you were the faster runner. He turns and grabs your wrist before it even comes close to touching him. With surprising strength, he pulls you close by your arm until your noses are almost touching.

“Paws off,” Scaramouche mocks you, his slit-like pupils barely visible with his narrowed eyes. He gives you a smirk. “Bad doggie.”

You snatch your hand back quickly, growling softly under your breath. You look down and test the bandages, finding them to be holding firmly.

“... So when d’you want me to get out of your hair?” You ask, knowing that you’ve definitely overstayed your welcome by now.

“You can hide here for the rest of the night,” his answer comes, much too quickly to be anything other than impulse. You raise your eyebrow at that, knowing he definitely sees you with his night vision. He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just say you owe me one later, okay?”

You whuff and kick him gently, which earns you a pillow to the face.

Tomorrow morning he’ll make you breakfast, and you’ll probably eat enough to put him out of house and home, and you’ll tell him all about the hunters who chased you down last night, and sometime over the week you’ll hear through the grapevine about some college kids going missing but you won’t think anything of it.

Sometime during the week, you’ll get a text from an unknown number telling you to use the front door next time, and a six digit passcode for an apartment building security system.

But tonight, you let Scaramouche baby you (as much as he denies it) and you fall asleep in his dumb, uncomfortable bed to the sound of him saying you haven’t changed a bit.

----- ⚘ -----

Blood in the Water

You don’t have gold blood, or super strength, or special powers. What you have is the clothes on your back, a pocketful of change for your bus fare, and a dead phone.

And the face of Teyvat’s omnipresent god, apparently. Not that that’s done you any favors since you got here. There’s been an order to bring your head to this Creator person. Preferably on a silver plate. Maybe a spike, if they’re feeling artistic.

That’s how you find yourself being chased by dozens of people who you thought were your favourite videogame characters. You surely regret it now, having upgraded them and kitted them all with best-in-slot weapons and artifacts. You’re not sure you want to test whether or not you’ll revive like the traveler, so you just run.

You’ve accumulated a plethora of wounds, doing your best to keep them clean and wrapped until you can figure out how to get back home. You move only at night, taking care to avoid places you distantly remember being inhabited. You even avoid the monsters, too afraid that they’d cause a ruckus and attract attention.

You find a cave. It’s not much more than a hole between the cliff face and the ground, but it's a shelter at the very least. You tuck yourself into it eagerly, hoping that the unremarkable location will save you from waking up to a knife pointed at your face.

You wish you could say you slept well, but you woke up barely an hour later to the sound of something scraping against the dirt outside. You risk a peek, and immediately shriek and retreat to the back of the cave.

Just outside, trying to dig his way in, is Childe’s Foul Legacy form. You briefly send a thought to whatever powers that be, hoping you can somehow get out of this alive.

The man stops his scratching, face leaning down to peer into your burrow. You can’t see him, but you get the sense that Childe is smiling behind his mask.

“Wakey wakey, little impostor,” he sings, reaching in to claw at the walls of your hideout. “Come on, I wanna play a little before we bring you in!”

Just as he finishes saying that, he gives a strange choked noise and yanks his arm out of the hole, clutching at his head. You don’t question it, taking the opportunity to make a break for it. You hear a frustrated snarl behind you, and the sound of heavy footsteps quickly follows.

You don’t stick around to find out what happened.

You’re not sure which direction you’re going anymore, your sense of direction completely messed up now that you’re seeing Teyvat in person. As a result you’re not paying attention to where you’re going, which is a nice way to say you Wile E Coyote’d yourself straight off a cliff.

You let out an undignified shriek, limbs flailing as you plummet down toward the frothing ocean below. Is it better to drown than to be stabbed, you wonder? You glance over your shoulder and watch in dread as Childe leaps down after you, arms outstretched. You close your eyes, and pray it will be fast.

---

You open your eyes one at a time, mostly surprised you’re still alive to do so. You take quick stock of yourself, and find that you miraculously still have all your limbs and belongings. Next, you look around for-

There he is, sitting on a rock behind you. Childe watches in silence as you check yourself over, which you think is a little bit creepy. You wave hesitantly, offering a wonky smile.

“Your Grace,” a deep, raspy voice emits from Foul Legacy, definitely not Childe’s.

A little stupidly, you look around and behind yourself, before turning back to Foul Legacy and pointing at your own chest. The creature nods.

“We have been waiting.” it rumbles, standing up and walking toward you. It’s much more imposing now that you have a good look at it, and you shrink back instinctively. “Be not afraid, Your Grace. The people of Teyvat are ignorant of your status, but the Dark knows.”

“What… what does that mean?” you squeak as Foul Legacy finally stops in front of you, talons reaching up to gently caress your face. You freeze, unable to will yourself to move when you’re so close to getting your head sliced off.

“You are the true Creator,” Foul Legacy says, surprisingly patient. “It is difficult to tell, as your divine presence is faint, but those who know will recognize it immediately.”

The creature reaches into your pocket with its thumb and forefinger, pulling out your dead phone. It gives the phone to you, so you take it mutely. You watch as Foul Legacy activates Childe’s electro Delusion, tapping the black screen with one claw.

Immediately, your phone blinks to life.

“Woah! That’s useful,” you gasp, unable to help your surprise.

“Your divine focus, Your Grace,” Foul Legacy nods. At its encouragement, you open up the lockscreen.

It loads into the Genshin Impact game immediately, and the first thing you notice is the plethora of new buttons available to you. You look up at Foul Legacy curiously.

“Teyvat is yours to command,” it states, then stiffens and flexes its hands. “I cannot hold him at bay for much longer, this is where I take my leave.”

‘He’ must be Childe, trapped inside the living armor of Foul Legacy. Internally, you wince at how lowkey degrading that must be. You wave as Foul Legacy bounds up the cliff, taking Childe somewhere far away from you.

Once the creature is gone, you open your phone once more and stare at the new UI. Well, you think, might as well give it a shot.

Your thumb presses down on a button.

----- �� -----

Memento Mori

Many people question how Tighnari can stand to be so close to you. He, who’s study in biology brought him into the light, into an affinity with all things life. Meanwhile you, who studied the same Amurta major as he did, delved into the field of sickness and decay and death.

You chuckle and close the icebox, letting the body of a departed grandmother rest before it is her time to be returned to the earth. As one of Sumeru’s few morticians, it’s your job to respect a good death, and to help the family in their time of suffering.

But there is also beauty, and life, in death. You see it every day, when people come to visit their loved ones at their gravesite. There is much love and sadness, yes, but there is blossoming and growth in it as well. They plant bushes and flowers to mark the resting places, and with each new shoot the visitors continue to grow as time passes.

Likewise, Tighnari knows that his job as a forest ranger is not just about preserving life, as much as he tries his best to keep fools on the right path. To preserve life, you must also respect death. The bodies of dead animals will feed their peers for days, and the decomposition of fallen trees will nourish the soil for years to come.

People don’t know how you and Tighnari can coexist so well, and it’s because they don’t realize that the two of you are each other’s perfect mirror. You balance each other out; where Tighnari is strict and hotheaded, you are patient and soothing. When Tighnari laments the decline of a species, you are the one who brings him the skull of their ancestors to show him that these creatures have come a long way and will persist under his care.

When the two of you come home after a long day apart, you share stories and gripes about your daily work, smushed together on your too-small couch and watching over Collei as she studies her letters.

“I had to stop a would-be explorer from wandering into the Withering zone again,” Tighnari sighs, his ear flicking down to brush the top of your head.

“Unfortunate,” you muse. “I’m assuming you succeeded, given you’re in a relatively good mood.”

“Oh, of course,” he waves his hand at the notion. “No thanks to the idiot’s lack of compass, or common sense. How about you? You are terribly lucky you don’t have to suffer fools the same way I do.”

“A grandfather who passed last week was visited today,” you tell him. “His family requested that he be cremated, and have given me a pouch of his late wife’s ashes to send with him on his final journey.”

“That’s very kind of them,” Tighnari replies, the pad of his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand. Despite your love and respect for your job, and how many requests and wishes you fulfilled, there is always a vague sense of melancholy that follows you home.

“His granddaughter will be enrolled in school this year,” you continue, holding his hand in yours. “Her father said she seems to take an interest in her grandfather’s old books. She likes the pictures.”

“The cycle keeps moving,” Tighnari nods. The two of you are distracted as Collei exclaims in joy, leaping up from where she’s sitting on the floor (and isn’t that amazing? She regains a bit of her strength every day) running to you to show you the perfect score she’d gotten from her homework.

Yes, many people question how Tighnari can stand to be so close to you, but who else besides you two can perfectly balance life and death?

[breederking]

Crouched in the shadows of the alleyway, I studied William as he waddled from his car to the door of his modest ranch-style apartment. His swollen belly protruded beneath his oversized shirt, a silent testament to the life growing within him. The moon cast a pale glow over the scene, illuminating the sweat on his brow and the tremble in his hands as he fumbled with the keys. It was clear that he was in the final weeks of his pregnancy, a time fraught with anticipation and, for some, fear. But for me, it was the culmination of a meticulously crafted plan.

For months, I had been watching him from afar, piecing together the puzzle of his life. I knew his routine like the back of my hand: when he left for work in the early morning light, the way he took his coffee—black, no sugar—and his penchant for locking the door behind him with a comforting click. I had observed his occasional visitors—the midwife with her gentle smile and reassuring pats, the friends who brought casseroles and baby gear with awkward glances at his bulging form. But tonight, as he stepped over the threshold, I knew he was truly alone.

The air grew thick with tension as I waited for the right moment to make my move. The curtains were drawn tight, but a sliver of light escaped from a room, revealing the outline of a rocking chair. I could almost hear the soft hum of the TV, the white noise that filled the quiet spaces of his solitude.

I approached the side of the house, where a trellis of ivy offered an easy climb to the window. The plant whispered against my skin as I ascended, feeling like a silent accomplice in my nocturnal mission. With the agility of a seasoned cat burglar, I scaled the wall, my heart thudding in my chest like a drumline's bass drum.

Reaching the windowsill, I peered through the cracked blinds, watching William settle into the rocking chair. His hand traced the swell of his stomach, and his eyes drifted shut as if in prayer. The sight was almost enough to stir a flicker of pity in my cold heart, but the thrill of the hunt was too potent to allow such weakness to take hold.

As he began to unbutton his shirt, I could see the full extent of his transformation. The soft swells of his chest had become fuller, the areolae darkened and swollen. His skin stretched taut over the mound of his pregnant belly, the navel a tiny button lost in the sea of flesh. He looked like a Renaissance painting, a modern-day Venus de Milo, but with a secret hidden beneath the canvas of his clothing.

The sound of his breath grew heavier as William's hand ventured lower, his fingers tracing the line of his waist before delving into the soft folds of his pants. He found his clit, a tiny pearl nestled between his legs, and began to rub it with a gentle, practiced touch. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his mouth formed a perfect "O" of pleasure. His belly jerked with each caress, the weight of his unborn child seemingly heightening every sensation.

With a groan, William leaned back in the chair, his hand moving in slow, sensual circles over his clit. The fabric of his pants grew damp, the scent of his arousal mingling with the faint aroma of baby powder and mint that clung to the room. His other hand rested on his belly, the flesh moving with every stroke he administered to himself. It was a sight that could have been tender, beautiful even, were it not for the stark reality of my voyeuristic presence.

His movements grew more urgent, and his breathing quickened. The chair rocked faster, the creaks a staccato rhythm to match the tempo of his hand. His belly, so large it rested on his thighs, made it difficult for him to reach his own pussy. He grimaced with the effort, his eyes squeezed shut in a mix of ecstasy and frustration.

Unable to resist the seductive dance playing out before me, I began to mirror his actions. My own hand found its way into my pants, stroking my cock as I watched William's hand glide over his skin. The contrast between the softness of his belly and the firmness of my erect cock was intoxicating. The pregnant man's moans grew louder, and I found myself matching his rhythm, my own breaths becoming ragged as I watched him edge closer to climax.

His body arched, the chair's wooden frame creaking under the strain of his passionate contortions. The sight was so erotic that I had to bite my lip to stifle a moan of my own. His hand worked feverishly, and the tension in the room grew palpable. The rocking chair was a silent witness to our shared moment of intimacy, the only sound the muffled slapping of our hands against our desperate flesh.

My cock throbbed in time with the beat of William's hand. Each stroke grew more deliberate as I watched the pregnant man's chest heave with pleasure. The moon's glow cast an ethereal light across his body, making the sweat on his skin gleam like droplets of molten silver. The shadow play across his features made him look almost otherworldly, a creature of the night caught in the throes of ecstasy.

William's hand slid away from his pussy, reaching to cup his bulging stomach. His movements grew erratic, his hips bucking against the chair as if searching for something more. The sight of him, so vulnerable yet so powerful in his loneliness, was more than I could bear. I unzipped my own pants, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat of my arousal. My hand wrapped around my erection, mimicking his movements as I began to jerk off, my eyes never leaving him.

As if on cue, William's body stiffened, and he let out a guttural cry that resonated through the quiet neighborhood. Slowly, fluid began painting the fabric of his pants with a warm, wet pattern. The sight of his release sent me spiraling over the edge, and I came with a moan that I barely managed to suppress, my cum spurting in a hot, thick stream that I wished was filling the tight, pregnant pussy I longed for.

The moment hung in the air, the echoes of our shared climax lingering as we both came down from the peak of pleasure. William's hand remained on his stomach, his chest heaving with the aftermath of his orgasm. He looked so beautiful, so utterly spent, that I couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy. That was when the decision was made—tonight was the night I would finally take what I had been craving for so long.

I slipped away from the windowsill, my heart racing with excitement. Carefully, I climbed down the trellis, my mind racing with the possibilities of what was to come. The house was quiet now, the TV's drone replaced by the sound of William's labored breathing. I circled around to the front door, my hand shaking slightly as I reached for the lock picks I had brought. The metal was cold and unyielding in my trembling grip, but I had practiced this a hundred times.

Within moments, the lock clicked open, and I stepped into the shadowy hallway. The floorboards creaked under my weight, but the noise was lost in the symphony of William's post-coital sighs. I tiptoed through the darkened house, the layout familiar from my many hours of reconnaissance. The living room was bathed in the soft glow of the moon, the rocking chair still rocking gently from his recent release.

The nursery door was ajar, a soft light spilling from within. As I approached, the sound of fabric rustling grew louder, and I caught a glimpse of William's silhouette against the pastel-colored wall. He was folding baby clothes with meticulous care, his swollen belly casting a strange, mesmerizing shadow on the floor. His concentration was absolute, his mind clearly elsewhere as he organized onesies and tiny socks into neat little piles.

William had set up a makeshift table on his massive belly, using his stomach to lay out the garments. It was a surprisingly practical solution to the lack of space in the room, and I couldn't help but be impressed by his ingenuity. The clothes were a delightful mix of blue and pink, the colors stark against his pale skin. It was clear that he was expecting twins, a revelation that sent a thrill of excitement through me. Two lives, so close to being born into the world.

Moving swiftly and silently, I approached him from behind. His focus on his task was so intense that he didn't even notice my shadow looming over him. It was easy to overpower the massively pregnant man, and I did so with a gentle yet firm hand. One hand clamped over his mouth, cutting off the sweet, sultry sounds of his breathing. His eyes went wide with shock, and he started to struggle, but my grip was too strong on his mouth and his arms that I held behind his back before quickly tying them together.

"Shh," I whispered in his ear, my voice a soothing caress. "I don't want to hurt you, William, or your babies." The words sent a shiver down his spine, and his body stilled, his breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. I felt his heart pound against my palm as I reached to feel the expanse, a rapid drumbeat that matched the chaos in my own chest. "Just stay quiet," I murmured, "and I promise, everything will be okay."

Looking down at him, I couldn't help but feel a strong sense of power. I spun him around to get a good look. William felt so weak and fragile, a stark contrast to my 6'2 and muscular frame. His eyes searched mine, desperate for some semblance of understanding or mercy. But what he saw was only determination and desire, a hunger that had been festering for months, waiting to be sated. I knew that, in this moment, I had the upper hand.

My cock grew hard once more, making contact with William's trembling gut. The heat of his skin was like a brand against me, a reminder of what I had come here for. His eyes grew wide with fear, but there was something else there, something primal that made me ache to claim him fully. He was ripe, ready, and all mine for the taking.

I could feel his warm breath against my hand as he struggled to keep quiet. The sound of his muffled sobs was music to my ears, the scent of his fear like a potent aphrodisiac. His chest heaved with each breath, his milk-laden nipples pointing straight at me, begging for my attention. The sight of the milk staining his t-shirt was almost too much to bear.

Gently, I lowered him onto the bed, my eyes never leaving his terrified gaze. His hands clawed at the mattress as I straddled him, my weight pressing down on his swollen stomach. The babies within squirmed, and he let out a muffled squeak of pain. I smirked. I reached down, my hand sliding under the shirt to cup one of his breasts, feeling the warm milk seep through my glove.

"Remember, William," I hissed in his ear, "be quiet, or else." The warning was clear, and the threat behind it was palpable. His eyes widened even further, and he nodded frantically, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. "Good boy," I cooed, stroking his cheek with the back of my hand. "You don't want to wake up the neighbors, do you?"

William's body trembled beneath me as I reached into the pocket of my jacket, pulling out a thick, cloth gag. The material was soft, but the knot I had tied earlier was tight—it would serve its purpose well. His eyes searched mine, pleading for mercy, but all he found was a cold, unyielding gaze. With a sense of urgency, I leaned over him, the weight of my body pinning him to the bed as I reached for his face.

As the gag met his lips, a fresh wave of sobs racked his body. He bit down on the cloth, trying to resist, but my grip was firm. I tightened the knot at the back of his head, ensuring that his cries would be nothing but muffled whispers in the stillness of the night. The gag filled his mouth, the material pressing against his teeth and tongue, turning his whimpers into something almost erotic.

With William secured, I took a moment to appreciate the view. His body, so soft and feminine despite his male form, was laid out before me like a feast. His breasts, heavy with milk, heaved with each shallow breath he took. His stomach, stretched to the limit, was a canvas of life, a testament to the power of creation. And his t-dick, still hardened, stood at attention, a silent sentinel to the chaos of passion that had brought us to this moment.

"I've been watching you, William," I began, my voice a low growl that seemed to vibrate through the room. "For months, I've studied your every move, learned your routines, and waited for the perfect time." I leaned in closer, my breath hot against his cheek. "And tonight," I whispered, "is that night."

His eyes grew wider with each word, the realization of my intentions dawning like a dark sunrise. "I saw you through the window," I continued, my hand tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the stubble beneath my fingertips. "The way your hand moved over your little cock, the desperation in your strokes. Your body is begging for more, isn't it?"

"Please," he managed to mumble around the gag, his eyes brimming with tears. But the plea was lost in the fabric, a muffled echo of his fear. I leaned in closer, my nose grazing his ear. "Don't worry," I whispered, "I'm here to give you exactly what you need."

My hand slid down his body, tracing the curve of his belly to the juncture of his thighs. His clit was still erect, a silent testament to the arousal that had not waned even in the face of his fear. I stroked it gently, watching as his eyes fluttered shut and his breathing grew more ragged. "You're so beautiful," I murmured, my voice a seductive purr that seemed to resonate through his very core.

He wriggled beneath me, trying to escape my touch, but his struggles only served to heighten my desire. I leaned down, my mouth hovering over his gagged lips. "You're going to love this, I promise," I whispered, the sweet scent of his fear intoxicating me. With a swift motion, I tugged at the waistband of his pants, pulling them down to expose the soft mound of his stomach. His t-dick bobbed free, the damp thing glistening in the moonlight.

The room was filled with the sound of his muffled whimpers as I slid down his body, my mouth watering at the thought of tasting him. I took a moment to appreciate the sight—his huge, pregnant belly, the gag in his mouth, the tears streaming down his face. He looked so pathetic, so utterly at my mercy. It was a power trip like no other, and I reveled in every second of it.

With a wicked grin, I began to strip him completely, peeling away layers of clothing to reveal his soft, stretched skin. His moans grew louder as I slapped my cock against his exposed stomach, watching the flesh ripple and bounce with each impact. His nipples grew hard under the abuse, and I couldn't resist tweaking them roughly, feeling them pop back into place with a sickening satisfaction.

As I played with his body, William's squirms grew more pronounced, his body begging for something more substantial than the teasing touches I had been giving him. He was like a helpless creature caught in a snare, his fear and arousal intertwining in a dance that made my cock throb with excitement. His skin was so sensitive, every touch sending waves of pleasure-pain through him.

I continued my exploration, my hands roaming over his swollen breasts, feeling the weight of them in my palms. The slaps of my cock against his flesh grew harder, more insistent, leaving reddened trails across his pale skin. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his moans grew more desperate as I toyed with him, each smack serving to heighten his arousal.

The scent of his milk grew stronger, the droplets that had formed at the tip of his nipples now trickling down his chest. The sight was too much to resist, and I found myself kneeling before him, eager to drink from the source. The first touch of my mouth to his skin sent a jolt of electricity through my body, and I lapped at his nipple like a starving man at a feast. The milk was sweet, almost intoxicating, and I greedily swallowed each drop that fell into my eager mouth.

As I suckled, I felt the babies within him move, their tiny limbs fluttering against the tight barrier of his skin. The sensation was overwhelming, and I found myself rubbing his belly in time with their movements, my hand slipping in the slickness of his milk. William's moans grew louder, his hips bucking against the mattress as I continued to suckle. His body was a symphony of sensation, a living, breathing work of art that I had the pleasure of claiming.

With my mouth still latched onto his nipple, I reached down to touch his pussy. It was slick with his arousal, and the moment my fingers made contact, he bucked his hips upwards, silently begging for more. "Look at you," I murmured, "so eager, so desperate for it." My voice was a dark caress, the words sending a shiver through his body.

I pulled away from his chest, watching as his eyes snapped open in surprise. "You're such a slutty boy," I whispered, the words a sweet symphony of depravity that seemed to resonate within him. His cheeks flushed a dark red, his pupils dilating with a mix of fear and lust. "You like this, don't you?" I didn't wait for an answer, my hand moving between his thighs to cup the swollen mound of his cunt.

The bed beneath him was soaked with his desire, a testament to how much he enjoyed the feeling of being dominated and used. The fabric of the mattress clung to his skin, and the scent of his arousal filled the room. I traced the outline of his pussy, feeling the heat emanating from his body. "You're so wet," I murmured, my voice thick with desire. "It's like your body is begging for me to fuck you."

I slid my fingers through the slickness, teasing his clit before sliding them into the warm, welcoming depths of his pussy. William's hips jerked, and he let out a muffled cry of pleasure. The gag muffled his sounds, but his eyes spoke volumes. They were wide with a mix of terror and need, a silent plea for me to continue.

I pumped my fingers into him, feeling his inner walls clench and release around my digits. His slick was everywhere, the wetness from his pussy creating a delicious mess that coated my hand. "Such a good boy," I murmured, my voice low and hypnotic. "Taking it like you were born for this."

Withdrawing my hand, I leaned in closer, my tongue snaking out to lick a path along the length of his enlarged clit. The taste was indescribable—musky and sweet, like the promise of life itself. He bucked his hips, trying to force himself deeper into my mouth, but I kept my grip firm. I wanted him to know who was in charge.

As I took him in my mouth, William's hips began to move of their own accord, his body desperately seeking release. His moans grew louder, his body trembling beneath me as I worked him over. The saliva and slick mingled on my tongue, a heady cocktail of his arousal. It was a dance of dominance and submission, a silent conversation where his body was the only language.

His juices flowed into my mouth like a river, hot and thick with need. The sensation was unlike anything I had ever experienced—his body was a fountain of desire, his fluids a potent elixir of life and lust. I felt a strange kinship with him, a shared hunger that went beyond the physical act. It was as if we were two animals in heat, driven by a primal instinct that neither of us could ignore.

I eagerly lapped at William's pussy, the taste of him only increasing my desire. His hips rolled in a silent plea for more, his entire body quivering beneath my touch. The room was filled with the sounds of my mouth against his skin, the wet suckling noises punctuated by his muffled cries. The smell of his arousal was intoxicating, a heady aroma that made me feel drunk with power.

I felt his clit pulse against my tongue, the juices flowing like a river. It was a taste I had never experienced before, a potent blend of sweetness and saltiness that had my own cock throbbing in response. He was the most fertile creature I had ever encountered, his body practically begging to be claimed and filled with seed. The thought of planting my own within him, of adding to the life already growing inside him, was almost too much to bear.

With each stroke of my tongue, William's body grew more tense, his breaths coming in sharp, desperate gasps. I could feel his orgasm building, the muscles in his thighs tightening as he strained against the bonds. The gag in his mouth was damp with drool, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to hold back his cries. But I wouldn't let him, I needed to hear the sweet sound of his submission.

With a final, forceful thrust of my fingers, William's body arched off the bed, his clit pulsing in my mouth as he came. The sensation was exquisite, the taste of him a delicious reward for my patience. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he let out a muffled scream, the gag stifling the sound as he spasmed beneath me.

Still holding onto his trembling legs, I positioned myself, the tip of my cock poised at the entrance to his used pussy. His eyes grew even wider, the realization of what was about to happen etched on his face. Before I entered him, I had a change of plan.

I slammed him against the wall, the plaster cracking under the force of our bodies. He was so light to me, his pregnant belly the only resistance, the rest of him almost weightless in my arms.

The impact was enough to make him whine, the gag muffling his sound as his cheek smacked the wall. His legs dangled in the air, and I took a moment to admire the way his swollen belly heaved with each of my movements. Then, without preamble, I lined my cock up with his hole and thrust into him with a savage growl.

The wetness of his pussy was a stark contrast to the dryness of the plaster behind him, and the sound of my cock sliding in and out of him was like a symphony of depravity. Each thrust sent a fresh wave of arousal through my body, his tightness gripping me like a vice. The slapping of our bodies was the only sound in the room, a cacophony of pleasure and pain that seemed to resonate in the very air around us.

William's eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth open in a silent scream. The gag prevented any sound from escaping, turning his cries into a series of muffled grunts that only served to excite me further. His legs wrapped around my waist, his heels digging into my back as he tried to find some semblance of leverage. It was a futile attempt—his body was mine to do with as I wished.

With each thrust, I felt my groin graze the base of his pregnant stomach, the sensation sending bolts of electricity through my spine. His pussy was tight, clenching around me like a glove, and I reveled in the feeling of power that came with fucking him so roughly. The wetness of his pussy mixed with the precum on my cock, creating a grotesque slapping sound that echoed through the room. His belly was a firm cushion that only served to enhance the depraved act we were engaged in.

The sight of William, moaning with tears streaming down his face, was almost too much to handle. The pain and pleasure must have been indistinguishable for him, his body a canvas of abuse that I painted with every inch of my length. I grabbed his throat with one hand, my grip tight enough to cut off his air, while the other held onto his bulging belly, anchoring him to the wall as I fucked him mercilessly. He struggled to breathe around the gag.

My cock plunged in and out of him, the rhythm punctuated by the sound of my palm landing on his belly. The force of each thrust sent shockwaves through his body, making his pregnant belly rock obscenely. The pressure was building, my balls tightening with every stroke, and I knew I was close to release. His eyes, wide with fear, searched mine, looking for an escape from the torment that I had become.

Leaning in, I whispered into his ear, "You want me to fill you up, don't you?" His nod was barely perceptible, but it was enough. The idea of his body, already stretched to its limits with the twins growing inside him, being further filled with my hot, thick cum was more than I could resist. "You want me to breed you," I murmured, the words like a dark promise in the quiet of the night.

With a final, brutal thrust, I released my grip on his throat, letting him gasp for air as I pulled out of his pussy. The gag remained in place, the fabric stained with his saliva and tears. His body was a wreck, his skin flushed and bruised from my rough handling. But his eyes—his eyes were alight with a need that was almost feral.

Ignoring the protest in my own conscience, I quickly pushed him down to the floor, his face resting on the cool, hard surface. His belly hung down, the weight of his unborn children making it impossible for him to keep it elevated. I straddled his back, my cock standing tall and proud as I watched him struggle beneath me. His wrists were still bound behind him, the ropes biting into his skin.

With one swift motion, I aligned my erection with his tight, wet pussy and began to thrust into him again. The sound of his muffled whimpers grew more desperate, his body wriggling in a futile attempt to escape the relentless invasion. Each time I pushed into him, his belly hit the floor with a sickening smack, the sound echoing through the room. I reveled in his pain, the feeling of his soft flesh against my hard cock driving me closer to the edge.

The friction was intense, the floorboards groaning in protest beneath us. William's slippery tunnel made my cock slide in and out of him with ease, a lubricant born of his fear and desire. His pregnant belly was a macabre counterpoint to my movements, a grim reminder of the innocence I was about to defile. Yet, the sight of it only spurred me on, the idea of filling him with my seed while he carried new life within him a perverse thrill that I couldn't resist.

As I pounded into him, William's body began to react in a way I hadn't anticipated. His pussy tightened around me, and he started to squirt, the clear fluid gushing out and coating my cock with every thrust. The sensation was unlike anything I had ever felt before, and it only served to fuel my lust. "You like this, don't you?" I taunted, my voice a mix of amusement and malice. "You're a good little breeding toy, aren't you? You love being on this cock."

His squirts grew more frequent, the force of them spraying against my stomach and thighs. It was as if his body was begging for more, craving the feeling of being used and filled. "You're made to be used, William," I said, my voice a harsh whisper. "You're nothing but a pregnant hole for me to fill with my cum. You should see yourself. Nothing but a pregnant bitch."

As the pressure in my balls grew unbearable, I pulled William up by his shoulders, his torso now bent over the edge of the bed. The position allowed me to rub his belly as I fucked him from behind, the solid mound of flesh gyrating with every thrust. The feeling of his warm, swollen stomach under my palm was exquisite, the life within him a tantalizing secret that only heightened my arousal.

His cries grew more frantic, the gag now a wet mess that drooped from his mouth. His eyes were wild, a mix of fear and something else—a desperate need that seemed to be consuming him from the inside out. It was a look I had seen before in the eyes of my prey, a look that told me I had him right where I wanted him.

With a final, brutal thrust, I felt my cock swell, and with a roar of triumph, I came deep inside William. The warmth of my seed filled his pussy, the sensation of it mixing with his own juices almost too much for me to handle. His body clenched around me, his legs shaking as he came again, his pussy spasming and squirting all over my cock. The sight was obscene and beautiful, a testament to the power I held over him.

He slumped against the bed, his legs giving out beneath him. I pulled out, my cock glistening with the combined fluids of our orgasms. The head was still pulsing, the remnants of my cum dripping out of him and onto the floor. The scent of sex was thick in the air, a heady mix of sweat, cum, and the faint metallic tang of fear. William's eyes were glazed over, his breathing ragged through the gag.

I took a moment to admire the mess I had made of him, the way his body was marked by my dominance. Then, with a sense of satisfaction, I stepped back and began to gather my clothes. The fabric was sticky with sweat and cum, a reminder of the depraved act we had just shared. As I pulled on my shirt, the material clung to my skin, a second skin that held the warmth of our encounter.

Leaving William there, bound and gagged, was like leaving a piece of art that I had just finished creating. His swollen belly, now slick with my cum, was a canvas that told a story of power and submission. He didn't move much, his energy spent in the throes of passion and fear. The occasional twitch of his stomach provoking him to make a soft noise, like the whispers of the unborn lives within him, reminding him of their presence.

As I put my clothes back on, the fabric stuck to my sweat-soaked body, a stark contrast to the cool night air that had seeped into the room. Each item I pulled on was like a layer of protection, a barrier between me and the raw, primal scene I had just left behind. I could feel my cock starting to stir again, the sight of William's defiled body too potent to ignore. The need to mark him one last time was overwhelming.

His eyes were vacant, staring off into the distance as his belly made soft, involuntary movements. The twins within him were obviously active, their little limbs pushing against the stretched skin like they were eager to join the world. The sight was both disturbing and erotic, a reminder of the taboo nature of what I had just done. His chest heaved with every shallow breath, his bound wrists leaving red marks against the flesh.

I couldn't resist the urge to touch him one last time. My hand caressed his stomach, feeling the babies' movements beneath my palm. It was like nothing I had ever felt—alien yet fascinating. The warmth of his skin was intoxicating, and the thought of my cum now mixing with the fluids of his pregnancy made me hard again. My cock strained against my pants, demanding release.

I stepped away from him, my eyes never leaving his prone form. He lay there, a picture of abused beauty, his body slack with exhaustion. With trembling hands, I unzipped my pants and pulled out my erect cock. The sight of William, bound and used, was all the encouragement I needed. I began to stroke myself, my eyes locked on the slight bulges moving under his skin. The babies were so active, it was as if they were fighting for their mother's attention.

I kneeled down beside him once more, my cock pressing against the warmth of his belly. The head of my shaft slid through the sticky mess of our combined fluids, leaving a glistening trail. William's eyes, though glazed with shock and pain, flicked down to watch me. He was overtaxed, his body a battleground of emotions and sensations. Yet, even in his vulnerability, there was something captivating about the way he looked at me. It was a mix of fear, disgust, and a strange fascination that sent shivers down my spine.

I wrapped my hand around the base of my cock, starting to pump it in a steady rhythm. The pre-cum coated my palm, making each stroke feel like a slick dance of desire. His belly was a perfect cushion, the warm give of his flesh a stark contrast to the hardness of my erection. Each time I stroked upwards, my cock slid against him, sending a new wave of sensations through my body.

William's gaze was hazy, his eyes unfocused as he watched me pleasure myself. The gag still muffled his sounds, but I could see the way his chest rose and fell, the way his body tensed with every stroke. His eyes seemed to plead for something, but whether it was for me to stop or to keep going, I couldn't tell. The ambiguity only added to the thrill, the power I had over him a drug that I couldn't resist.

With a final grunt, I reached my climax, spurting my cum onto William's stretched belly. It landed with a warm splatter, the sticky fluid mixing with the sweat and precum already coating his skin. His stomach muscles clenched and released, the babies' movements growing more frantic as if they could sense the danger their father was in. I watched the cum slide down the curve of his belly, pooling in his navel, and for a moment, I was lost in the beauty of the depraved tableau.

With gentle, almost loving strokes, I rubbed my cum into William's skin. The feel of his baby's roll beneath my hand was a strange sensation, a mix of revulsion and fascination that I couldn't quite put into words. His flesh was so soft and pliable, the weight of his pregnancy giving it a bounciness that was both alluring and repulsive. I felt a twisted sense of satisfaction in marring the purity of his pregnant form with my own seed.

I stepped back, my cock finally softening, the last droplets of cum splattering onto the wooden floorboards. William's eyes, once so filled with fight, were now nothing but pools of despair, his spirit broken by the depravity of what had just occurred. He was mine, utterly and completely, and the knowledge sent a thrill through me that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

I zipped up my pants, tucking away the last vestiges of my primal need. With surprising tenderness, I untied the ropes that had held him captive. His wrists were red and bruised, a stark contrast to the soft, unblemished skin of his stomach that now bore the marks of my possession. He didn't flinch as I touched him, his body resigned to the violation it had endured. All fight had left him. He slumped against the bed, his eyes downcast. The gag was sodden, and I could see the drool staining the fabric. His legs were sprawled out in front of him, his pants and underwear still around his ankles, a sad reminder of the power I had wielded over him.

My breath was coming in ragged gasps, my heart pounding in my chest like a wild beast seeking its next victim. I took one last look at the man I had violated so completely, his swollen belly now adorned with the sticky evidence of my lust. The room was a mess, a hurricane of passion and fear that had left us both reeling.

I bent down, whispering in William's ear, "This isn't over. I'll be back for you, and when I do, I'll make sure you're ready to give birth to those babies." His body flinched at the words, but he didn't move, didn't speak. He was a broken man, and that was exactly what I needed. It would make it so much easier when the time came for me to fuck him into labor, to force his body to do what nature had intended.

As I stepped away from the bed, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in the destruction I had wrought. The room was a testament to our encounter, a twisted shrine to the dark desires that had brought us here. The bed was a mess of tangled sheets and bodily fluids, the scent of sex and fear hanging heavily in the air like a fog.

Looking at William, my gaze lingering on the cum stains on his belly, I felt a strange mix of emotions—dominance, arousal, and something that felt uncomfortably close to affection. He had given me what I had craved, and in doing so, he had become a part of me, a piece of my twisted reality that I couldn't let go. "Remember, William," I said, my voice low and dangerous, "I'll be back for you." His eyes, swollen with tears, stared blankly up at me, the light in them almost entirely extinguished.

[coldshrugs]

tiebreaker

pairing: io laithe / estinien varlineau setting: modern AU rating: explicit - there are a few mature scenes near the end word count: 6.1k

It's strange to be home.

Stranger still to try to define where exactly home is now that Io has two. Two beds, two sets of friends, two time zones to keep up with… Home is supposed to be a place, or, if she allows the geography to have a softer edge, a series of places and the routines formed around them. The familiar haunts one returns to again and again, seeking the comfort of nostalgia.

Three months didn't feel that long while she lived them; the new place is nice, the people are great, and she loves her work. She calls it home when she is there.

But is it? Home used to hold her mother's voice, her siblings' laughter, her father's snoring. She can't go back to any of those things. 'Home' died six years ago, and Io has been trying to claw back some essence of it ever since.

There was only one thing she was sure she missed from this place, one person. But then she stood in the kitchen with the sunset light painting half the cabinets in late summer's orange, and one thing turned into everything. Puzzle pieces of scent and sight that make her long for more of them tomorrow and every day after—the pack of cigarettes on the already open window to their fire escape; the knowledge that she can hide away in the safety of her room, surrounded by all her favorite things, if the inevitable tide of her anxiety rises high enough to drown her; and especially the smell of Estinien—of both of them—burrowed bone-deep into every room.

But the apartment is not exactly as it was when she left. It's cleaner. The blankets on the couch are neatly folded. There are no dishes in the sink. Not a shred of old mail on the table by the door. The only object even slightly out of place is one of the red plastic chairs at the small table between the kitchen and living room, stolen from their former support group when they aged out.

It's almost uncanny, before she remembers he cleans when he's stressed…

Hm.

They haven't talked about the kiss.

They haven't talked about much of anything so far.

Not when Estinien picked her up from the airport. Not back in their apartment as they readied for Y'shotla’s birthday party. Not even when they stepped out of their rooms, facing each other in the mirrored doorways, and his eyes blew wide at the sight of her dressed in the simple sundress and sneakers.

"You, uh, look really nice," he'd said. Straight forward tone and broad shoulders drawn up to his full height. But he didn't say anything else, so maybe they're leaving it where it lies.

Io has learned to live with this contactless friction. An ever-present static at the boundary of what they mean to each other. Sometimes, the hum is so quiet that she swears she is over him. Then there are times like now, in the back of their Uber, when the unspoken question churns in the space between them, fuzzy and electric, and Io reminds herself that even a hum is noise.

She has to break the ice.

"How's work going? How are the kids this year?"

"It's alright. A ton of rebellious little shits in my classes this semester, especially this set of twins."

"Are you allowed to call them that?"

It takes them a moment to find their footing, but then they can't seem to stop—

"Only when I like them. How's it going with your roommates—what are their names again?"

"Hien and Yugiri. They're sweet. Fun to hang out with. They're tidiness sticklers though, so that's kind of killing me."

"Did you watch that show I said you'd like?"

"Did you remember to water my plants?"

—And on and on until she whispers:

"I miss you. You thought I wouldn't."

Silence again, besides the pop song quietly spilling from the speakers. The driver's eyes flash in the rearview mirror before they turn the volume up, like some sound-based privacy curtain, but that is where it ends. Estinien turns his gaze to the darkening skyline around them, lips drawn up at the corner facing her.

It's hard to be disappointed when simply sitting beside him again is a comfort.

Sure, they text daily, but there is no replacement for his deadpan cadence or playfully disgruntled tone. No emoji could substitute the curves of his smiles, from the small and shy ones he tries to hide (the kind he wears now, squeezing at her heart) to the wide ones that come with an open-mouth laugh—

Her thoughts spin to the kiss. Nervous and unfinished, broken too soon because their drunk friends apparently cannot resist throwing glass bottles at the call of "beer me!" That's why she didn't get to kiss him longer, not that it would matter in the long run.

Estinien doesn't do long distance.

He told Vic as much. He cared about Vic. They dated long enough for it to matter, but in the end, Vic moved hours away, and Estinien decided they should break things off. And despite what anyone says about how he might feel about her, she's stationed on the other side of the country for the next nine months.

But he kissed her back. Oh, the way he kissed her back…

She shoots him the occasional furtive glance while his attention is elsewhere, and god, he looks good. Loose, perfectly messy hair hangs past his shoulders and softens the more severe angles of his face. His t-shirt wrinkles against the line of his well-worn jeans. Hems she has long dreamed of running her hands under…

Io's thick swallow is loud in her ears (she hopes he didn't hear it, too), and her fingers twitch on the leather seat between them. That does make a sound. A little scratch.

Estinien slides his hand across the seat, and—the static sizzles and snaps—his fingers curl into hers. He doesn't look away from the window, but he squeezes.

Her heartbeat almost hurts. She squeezes back.

Another 10 minutes and they pull up to the usual watering hole, one of those extensions of home, Redbills.

He lets go as they climb out of the car on his side, deciding to shove both his hands into his pockets. Cool.

(He's still wearing that little smile as they walk inside.)

Now, this is a place that's frozen in time. Dim light punched through with neon, an out-of-place song being played too loud, ratty stools lining the bar, and well-kept pool tables dotting the back wall. And that's to say nothing of the people.

Her friends (the first set, the ones as close as family) are scattered around the bar. Lucia and Thancred are already locked in a game of pool, and there's real money on the corner of the table. G'raha carries two colorful cocktails to a standing table, where he and Urianger are chatting with Krile, on her tall barstool, of course. Aymeric is at the bar, laughing loudly with Leofard, and Leo's pouring a massive round of shots.

Estinien sways awkwardly on the spot before turning to Io. He jerks his head in Aymeric’s direction, letting her know where he'll be, before walking backward toward him. He's gone for now, then.

Yep, very cool.

Tataru (already flushed a deep shade of pink) gestures chaotically as she rambles to the birthday girl sitting at the end of the bar. Shtola is nodding along without looking, one arm thrown over the back of her metal stool tied with black and purple balloons speckled with glitter. Her other hand holds an e-reader and, holy shit, she is deeply engrossed in a book at her own party.

In fact, she only looks up when her glasses begin to slide down her nose, and that's when her pale eyes fall on Io. She is up in a flash. "You came!"

Shtola isn't one for lengthy displays. The hug is brief, but she wraps her arms tightly around Io and allows her to return it fully before pulling away.

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it," Io says. They walk arm in arm towards her decorated seat, where Tataru's tipsy little squeak alerts everyone else to her arrival, and then the party begins.

The night happens in a rush. A round of shots as they sing happy birthday, followed by a round of beers on the house because Io is back in town. She isn't allowed to be a wallflower tonight, tugged from huddle to huddle to share stories of her new orchestra gig or listen to someone else's big news that happened to slip through the cracks of the group chat.

Despite the company and constant meandering around the room, his static prickles on the back of her neck. Estinien hovers in the margins. Much like his blind reach for her hand in the car, she doesn't need to see him to know he's around. It is a phantom sensation, some missing part of her that she swears she can move if only she tries hard enough.

A quick glance to the side and she finds him effortlessly. He leans against the wall, speaking with Ayms in hushed voices. Estinien's eyes cut a sharp path to her, too; Aymeric's gaze follows, and a deviously knowing smile spreads across his face. Io purses her lips politely and smiles back, lifting her hand to wave. Aymeric waves back as he leans to whisper something to Estinien, who shakes his head and takes a long swallow from his beer. His posture tenses.

He pushes off the wall and walks outside, placing his empty bottle on the bar as he goes.

"Hold that thought," Io says as she breaks away from Thancred. "Just grabbing some air."

He's even easier to find on the sidewalk. A lone figure with his shoulder pressed into the brick, head tilted skyward. He's facing the door, as if he's waiting for someone.

"What's wrong?" Io takes a cautious step toward him, fighting the pull to go to him immediately

He shrugs but doesn't look at her. His brows knot, and she can't name the look he wears. It's frustrating not knowing what he's feeling. Disappointment? Defeat? Finally, he asks, "We're just not going to talk about it?"

Oh.

"Estinien, you've been distant most of the day, except for a compliment and holding my hand in the car… I didn't think you wanted to talk about it."

And that makes him look. His head rolls in her direction, hair bunched against the wall and his stare burning through her. "Be serious. Of course I want to. I just… don't know how to start."

"Neither do I." Io inhales and lets the warm night air soothe her nerves. Here she fucking goes. "We kissed. Barely—"

"'Barely.'" The word leaves him in a little huff of incensed laughter. He shakes his head.

"—And it was wrong to leave that up in the air for so long, but I guess it's easier not to know? Maybe it's, I don't know, kinder to slip back into how we were before that. If that's what you want."

"Kinder? Fuck off." Compared to his previous interruption, his tone has cooled, and his expression softened. He's not actually mad. If anything, he seems confused that he's being asked what he wants, as if it's obvious. "Did you mean what you said that night I called you?"

She moves to his side, still careful, still slow. But it's for her own benefit now. What on earth is he talking about?

He asked to call her a couple of weeks ago, the first time that's happened since she's been away. They talked through the night, and there was something close about it, closer than usual. The end of the conversation is fuzzy. She only remembers waking up with her phone pressed to her cheek.

Her shoulder meets the wall, mirroring his lean from a foot away. "...What did I say?"

"You love me." He spits it out quickly and gives no further explanation.

But it doesn't need any, does it? It's a simple yes or no. And it's now that she realizes Alberic—and everyone else—was right: he needs her to go first. He can't move until she does.

"Yeah…" Io shifts her weight against the brick, dragging her gaze from the grime-covered sidewalk to his gray eyes shining softly in the night. He deserves that, because she loves him. "I meant it. But listen, I'm not expecting anything. My job alone makes me a walking deal-breaker so—"

A few people stumble out of the bar, cackling loudly, and they both look to make sure it's no one they know. Just a group of strangers, so their attention refocuses. Io takes another breath, but Estinien speaks first.

"Since you left, I only sit in your chair." The streetlight overhead harshes the shadows falling across his face, but it does not obscure the reddening tips of his ears. "It felt stupid at first. For a while, I pretended it wasn't a conscious thing. Just a convenient one; it's closer to the door or whatever. But it's a choice, I realize that now… I think I've been keeping myself from it since you wrote on them. At some point, I couldn't tell the difference. But that became a choice, too."

It trails off a bit as he loses his own thread, but Io isn't lost. No, it makes perfect sense. This is him explaining every moment passed between them in the half-decade they've shared.

"You're rambling." She tries not to laugh. It's not funny. It's just what he does; he doesn't know what to say, so he says more than he should, and the familiar habit fills her chest with a fluttering warmth. His gaze moves to her smile. "I mean, you don't have to stop. I like when you get going."

She marvels at the way his eyes roll, annoyed and amused all at once. How he tries to be just one plain thing but can't help being more than that.

"The point is, I only sit in your chair."

Estinien's hands leave his pockets. She thinks he might be reaching for his cigarettes. She could use one, too. But they shoot towards her instead, his fingers wrapping into the embroidered edges of her jacket. He holds her like that, thumbs tracing the fabric while his eyes dart across her face, softening by the second. They dilate to a ring of dark silver.

Io reminds herself to breathe.

He pulls her closer.

Closer than that.

"I love you. I don't know how long it's been, just that I do." And he waits, all quickened breath and pleading eyes silently asking her to say it again.

"I love you too."

His hands wind around her, shifting her across the final gap between them, chest to warm chest. When Io lifts her hands to his face, his heartbeat gives him away. Pressed close like this, she feels the echo of every agonizing thump. His darkened eyes flash to her lips.

He moves.

They are careful at first, almost precious about it. But careful gives way to something else, just like it started to three months ago on the fire escape. His softness grows urgent, the kind of thing that begs to become another, deeper kiss. Io waits for the shoe to drop, the glass to shatter, but it doesn't come. Estinien's hands travel to the small of her back, one moves under her jacket, fingers skimming between the straps tying the back of her dress, and there is no interruption this time.

Every thought, every dream she's had about this does not compare to the way his lips seem to drag hers with him as he pulls back. His breathless whisper falls into the space between them.

"Should we get out of here, just go home? I just want to be with you tonight."

Io nods against his forehead, maybe too eagerly, but his smile is worth it. "Yeah, um, just let me say bye to everyone first. I hate to bail, but the party isn't the only reason I'm here."

He releases her as a smug grin pulls new shadows across his face. When they re-enter together, Aymeric approaches from the bar.

"You two were gone for a while." His words are ripe with accusation. Io shifts her weight and pulls her jacket closed, hoping he doesn't notice how rumpled it is.

Estinien leans against the wall by the entrance, looking as casual as ever. "And we're leaving again. Are you meeting everyone for breakfast tomorrow?"

Aymeric balks, "First of all, it's brunch, not breakfast; we're drinking again. Second, yes, I'll be there."

"Then we'll see you there."

"Wait, why are you leaving?"

Io takes the opportunity to slip away and find Y'shtola, who is once again seated at the bar, talking to Leo over the largest fishbowl of sangria she's ever seen. It's half-empty.

She slides into the seat next to her. "Hey… please don't kill me."

Shtola squints in Io's direction with surprisingly clear eyes. There is a silent question in them.

"Can I be here for this?" Leo props an elbow on the bar as if that might bolster his chances.

"No," they say in unison, refusing to glance his way.

"Fine," he says, no worse for wear. "I'm taking five, I need to piss anyway."

Shtola takes a deep sip of her drink until he's in the back. "Let me guess: you've decided to leave your best friend's birthday in the loud, crowded bar when we've been here less than two hours? Io, don't think I didn't expect that."

Io might be offended if there were any malice in the words, but Y'shtola brought her fucking kindle. She's probably planning her own escape soon.

"I'm awful, I'm sorry—" She throws her gaze over her shoulder and Shtola's head turns too. Estinien is still waiting by the door with Aymeric, but he's focused intently on her. "—but there's been a development…"

Bubbles sputter in her drink and she comes away coughing. "Are you serious? Finally? Not the half-assed, 'this is a goodbye forever, I'm giving up on you' kiss?"

"Finally." Her grin is embarrassing, but if anyone knows how long she's held out for this moment, it's Shtola. "Like, no bullshit, for real. Feelings talk and all, so I… really need to go."

Shtola shakes her head, one hand waving Io off the barstool and towards the exit. "No, no, breaking the pattern of platonic codependency and making a new, probably worse pattern is the perfect birthday gift. For the love of god, text me and let me know what happens."

"See you tomorrow." Io squeezes in one more hug and snags a sip of her drink before all but running for the door.

She gives Aymeric a little wave and a smile before passing through the door with Estinien's hand on her back again. A car is already waiting, and after they clamber inside, he doesn't cease his contact. An arm as far around her as he can manage, his fingers grazing her neck, and he can't take his eyes off her.

It doesn't matter that this is all the drive will allow. Desire sparks along her skin, originating from his touch and simmering between them, silent but shameless. The ride feels like an eternity.

When they're finally outside their building, the car is barely out of view before Estinien kisses her again. He walks them backward to the alcove housing the locked glass doors and the keypad. She laughs against his lips as she struggles to reach the buttons. He moves them closer. The first attempt lights the unit in red.

They'll get locked out at this rate.

Io pulls free of his lips with a hummed whine so she can see what she's doing. He moves to her cheek instead, then her jaw… Another red try.

"Estinien," she breathes.

His throaty laugh vibrates against her skin. "You've got it."

Fuck it. If this doesn't work, they can break their necks on the fire escape. 7-9-1-3-5. It blinks green, and the locked doors click open.

They only waste a little time in the stairwell, a quick kiss every other landing or so, when one can't resist grabbing the other, softly passing laughter between mouths before running up the next flight. It doesn't feel real. It lasts all the way to their door.

They go inside, hand in hand, and this is when it sets in.

Sure, it's a bit too clean, but the only new thing here is them. They kick off their shoes and navigate the path to Estinien's room in the dark, carefully dodging jutting furniture corners and stepping over the edges of rugs as their eyes adjust to the lack of light. A strange muscle memory when the context of the journey is so different.

In his room, Io pulls the chain on his bedside lamp, flooding the space with soft, warm light. She knows his room; the scattered sports and music posters, his baseball trophies and metals, and the long unused skateboard. His bed sits in the center of the far wall, flanked by a table on each side; one holds the lamp she just turned on, and the other is where his keys, wallet, and phone usually go. She's had to grab them more than once as they rushed out of this place.

"Is that okay?" she asks.

He nods, pulling her in again, prying her jacket off. It falls to the floor in a crumpled heap as his hands trail back up her arms. One settles lightly against the back of her neck. She runs a shaking hand over his stomach until it rests on his chest.

He inhales, forehead falling to hers for the second time tonight. "I'm kind of nervous."

"Me too." She swallows, trying to keep her voice even. "It feels silly, right?"

"Yeah." Estinien's rumbled laugh sounds in the quiet. "The reason I shouldn't be is the reason I am."

Io pulls her head away, asking why with furrowed brows.

"Because it's you."

What steals her breath seems to give his confidence a second wind. He tugs a strap off her shoulder and presses a kiss to the freckled skin beneath, lips moving slowly, reverently, until her head tips back and her arms snake around his waist. He catches the hem of the dress, looking to Io briefly for approval, lifting it over her head after she nods.

He pauses, drinking in the sight of her standing in his most private space, wearing only her underwear, and for a second Io wonders if his drinks have caught up with him.

He pulls his own shirt off, ruffling his hair in the process. His skin catches the lamplight on one side and moonlight on the other. His beauty is uncomplicated, as direct as he is, but right now it threatens to overwhelm her. Io reaches for him, runs her hands across soft muscle and the small, knotted scar on his left shoulder.

She leans forward, brushing her lips over his, almost content to feel him breathing against them and nothing more. Almost. Estinien's knuckles skim her waist, ghost over the side of her breast, across her back, where his hold solidifies before tipping them onto the bed.

Each touch speaks the assurance they've never needed to voice—I'll take care of you, I'm the one who always takes care of you. This is not so different, not when they get down to it. Estinien drags his lips across her throat and that is just as intimate as his texts reminding her to take her anxiety medication; Io's hands slipping beneath his waistband are the same hands that spread his favorite blanket over him when he falls asleep on their couch. "I made you coffee" shares DNA with "please kiss me again", and both are prerequisites to the soft grip of his hand under her chin, leading her mouth to his.

What's one more way to love each other?

Between needy touches and heated moans, they peel away the last of their layers. There is nothing else they can bare.

Estinien moves down her body, nose trailing against her skin, stopping along the way to place soft, searing kisses to places that certainly never existed before now. The tip of her collarbone, the underside of her breasts, the sensitive skin over her ribs, and she shivers as he brings each one to life in the soft heat of his mouth. His hands follow, creating a pattern of kiss and caress, and Io is never without some part of him in contact with her skin.

He settles between her legs, and she feels the hot rush of his breath, coming just that much faster as he anticipates the next action. Io can hardly bear to look at him—flushed cheek pressed against her thigh and his eyes growing darker when she bites her lip—but she cannot look away.

"You're so fucking beautiful." Estinien kisses her thigh, then whispers low in a voice Io doesn't recognize, "Do you want me to?"

His fingers trace a tantalizing pattern on her leg as he stares up at her, waiting for the answer.

How can she tell him what he's doing to her before he even begins? "Please" is the only word she can articulate as she runs a hand through his hair, gently urging him to go on. "Please."

He dips his head, and words don't matter. She couldn't form them if she tried. Her eyes squeeze shut as she falls against the pillow. There is only shapeless sound, her body tense and twisting, the combination of her slick heat and his mouth,

               his mouth,

                                 his mouth.

She's at the edge before she knows it, and the feel of his lips changes, lightens, as he pushes her over. He's smiling—pleased with himself, pleased at her reaction. It remains in place as he lifts himself and kisses his way back to her lips.

Estinien covers her, skin to skin, and Io pulls away from his lips just to look at him for a moment. His silver hair catching bits of the city lights through the window. The shine of her still worn on his lips. Io cups his cheek and sweeps her thumb across them, observing the way they yield for even this touch. His blush spreads to the tips of his ears, down his neck.

"I feel so stupid. You've been looking at me that way for years, and I…" The thought hangs between them: 'What if?' He shakes his head above her, his hair grazing her shoulders.

"Yeah," Io whispers. "But you've been looking at me too. I wasn't in a rush."

She smiles into the next kiss, feels his own spread against her lips. Of all the things they've done tonight, the things they will do, this is the one she wants to keep most. She lets it linger, lets him deepen it when he's ready, asking for more when his tongue slides over hers and he shifts between her thighs.

Io stifles a moan and presses her hands into his back. She needs him closer.

One more shift, and they gasp through a broken kiss. There is only a second of pause, a quick word to check in, then Estinien drives forward again. They find a rhythm. Io moves with him. His breathing grows ragged and shallow, his voice is a tight rasp as he curses or mutters her name into the crook of her neck.

He leans back, resting on his knees, lifting Io with him so she sits on his angled lap. "I wanna see you like this," he says in a shredded whisper. "I keep thinking about it."

It's easy to give him what he wants when he looks at her like this, when he asks for her like he needs her. Io works her hips against him while Estinien does his best to explore, to touch, but his focus shatters in a guttural rumble as he pulls free and guides their fall back to the bed.

There is breath to catch and mess to clean. They alternate trips to the bathroom, then settle into his bed in a yawning heap.

They stay close afterward, liking the way their limbs have tangled and the heaviness of his body relaxing against hers. Io runs her fingers through his hair, unwilling to stop touching him like this now that she has no reason to hold back, and relishes the soft breath washing over her chest. Estinien is still, besides the occasional lazy roll of his head, to kiss her where he can. From the opposite side of the bed, the lamp's glow brightens his edges, the sharp line of his jaw, his nose, and his lips gently pulled into the sweetest smile Io's ever seen him wear.

She could watch him like this forever.

The city doesn't slow around them. Flashes of sound and color leak into the dim room, painting the wall in shifting light that disappears between drowsy blinks. Io wonders how all those passersby in taxis and on the street can go on like before, unaware a faultline has moved under their feet. Don't they know? Didn't they feel it?

The quiet breaks abruptly.

"Io, I'm not,"—his rough voice wavers. He pauses. She can almost see him turning over the words in his mind—"very romantic, if I'm honest, but I could be good to you."

His head on her chest is the only thing keeping her in orbit.

"You've always been good to me. If you're asking me for something…"

"I'm asking."

"You just wanna hear me say it?" And she laughs at his sleepy little nod, heartsick at the way he looks up at her, pupils wide even with their desire temporarily quenched. He wants more than light. She gives it to him. She'd give him anything. "Then yeah, I want to be with you, if you're willing to deal with the distance."

"I don't mind the distance if it's with you." His eyes close, his breathing deepens. She holds him like that until sleep takes her, too.

Io wakes slowly. The room is still gray and dark, with the exception of a single line of early sunlight fighting its way through his blackout curtains. It falls across her side of the bed, a reminder that something exists beyond the bliss of being tucked into this specific set of sheets.

Estinien is already awake. His hand moves down her side, warm and soothing, and then makes the return journey upward, over and over, until she half-rolls to see his face.

"Hey," his voice is even more rough than usual, but it's sweeter, too. He lifts onto his arm, smiling down at her. His messy hair hangs in his eyes. Witnessing this side of him… it always felt so out of reach.

"Hi," she whispers back, adjusting the sheet so there's no barrier between them. "Why are you awake?"

His knuckles roll over her neck, up to her cheek. "Just wanted to look at you. You're all I can think about, and now you're here so… is that weird?"

Io shakes her head against his pillow. "I don't think it's weird. I think I'd do the same."

"Good." He leans in, but pauses before their lips meet. "Wouldn't stop me if it was."

He kisses her slowly, pulls her back flush to his chest so he can touch her. The urgency and nerves of last night are gone. His hands move, unhurried, over the twist of her body, more interested in coaxing little sounds of need from her while her voice still wears shades of sleep. When he fills her this time, his thrusts are soft, almost lazy. And when he's finished, Estinien tells her he loves her again.

She will never tire of hearing it.

They are late to brunch. It's a wonder they show up at all.

No comments when they stroll to the table hand in hand, or when Estinien throws his arm around Io's chair, and not even when she leans into him to rest her head against his cheek after the third mimosa. This is how it should've been all along. They were the only people blocking the way.

The day passes in patches of sunlight and bright laughter, that of their friends and, later on, just theirs. They walk their favorite paths and visit the places Io missed most. The park on the way to her former library job, the library itself, the bakery with specialty cupcakes, and the taco joint she's been craving. But he is a magnet for her hands and, in truth, the place she misses most is their apartment…

They make good use of the short time. No room is too sacred, no surface too precious, until they make it so. By the end of the weekend, they have a pretty good handle on what works. Estinien is a quick study; he remembers what makes her smile, what causes a gasp or a moan.

They learn other things too.

"Tell me something I don't know about you," Io requests on that final evening.

Estinien lies on his back, head angled toward the tv that drones quietly in front of them. He's not watching; his eyes are half closed and his hand tangles in her hair. It's the most focus he can spare right now.

"I thought it was called 'duck tape' for too long. Aymeric pulled me aside in freshman year. Embarrassing as fuck," he says. "Your turn."

Io commits to being a quiet observer, biting back the giggle in the back of her throat.

She lies across his waist with one arm folded under her chin. Her fingers skate over his torso, leaving little trails of puckered skin in their wake. She pockets every tiny reaction (the soft hitch in his breath at a touch near the lower rungs of his ribs, or barely audible sigh when she passes just below his navel), but these are the only interruptions to the otherwise steady rise and fall of his chest.

"I'm allergic to bee stings."

"What?"

"Yeah, I should've mentioned it before," she says. "You're my emergency contact, so you should know what might take me out."

He laughs, a full belly laugh that shakes both of them on the couch. The sound digs into the marrow of her bones. It can't replace the voices she misses, but she can make more space for him in the part of her heart that longs to hear them.

The quiet after his laughter is just as tender, both of them content with this simple closeness.

"I don't want you to go," he says after some time. "One more day."

"Estinien, my flight—"

"Fuck your flight." His drowsy smile is tempting. "Stay with me."

She says no by pressing her lips against the soft, fuzzy patch of skin beneath his navel, and his exhale barely restrains a shudder. Does she truly do this to him so easily?

"Stay," Estinien repeats.

"You know I can't." Io kisses him again, shifting her head, preparing to focus her attention a little lower…

A long exhale stutters out of him. "I know."

She tugs on the hem of his boxers and he lifts his hips to make it easier for her to move them down his thighs. Io bites her lip at the sight of him, his ready willingness to share himself with her, the way he wants her. She brushes her lips against his length.

"I can come back next month." She trades lips for tongue, adores the way his head rolls back against the sofa. "We'll talk every day, like we always do."

"Next month," he whispers as she takes him into her mouth. His voice strains. "Only nine more to go."

It's noon on Monday when they leave for the airport.

Estinien drives them. Io takes in the view from the passenger seat, branding the feel of his hand on her knee into her mind. And then the pressure of his arms around her when he pulls her back for another hug, the nervous blush when he kisses her openly at the gate. His straight-backed reassurance of "I love you. Come home soon."

Home can be a place, as simple as four walls, or the scent of minty body wash, the voices that soothe just by proximity, and it can be a shared bad habit. The picturesque scenes of a small and beautiful life. Home can be the boy you watch grow into a man, the friend you wait for until you don't care about the waiting, and the partner stoking butterflies or comfort with a look. Home isn't home the first time—it demands a return.

"I will. I'll be back before you know it. And I love you too."

Home requires memory.

[jerzwriter]

By Chance: The Morning After

I wrote By Chance... all the way back in January (wow!). It was an AU idea where Tobias & Casey meet under very different circumstances. They're closer in age, and meet much earlier leading to a messy, on-and-off relationship that lasts years - and the end is uncertain.

When I saw "the morning after" prompt on @choicesprompts Smutober list, this was the first thing that came to mind, and I knew it was time to dust this off.

Book: Open Heart (pre-series)

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC

Rating: Mature (it's steamy, but not explicit) 18+

Words: 1,901

Summary: Things always look different in the morning light. The night after Casey meets a charming stranger in the bar, she wakes up to uncertainty and a surprise.

By Chance Universe: In this universe, Tobias is around 26, entering his last year of med school at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. Casey is around 22 and beginning her last year as an undergrad at New York University.

A/N: Participating in @choicesprompts Smutober, Day 2. and @choicesseptemberchallenge2023 Day 7: Sharing something personal about them that they've never shared with anyone before.

By Chance... Part 1 Tobias & Casey Masterlist | Full Masterlist

Casey’s bedroom was set up in a very particular way. A good night’s sleep was of paramount importance, and all the elements required to ensure one were present: her favorite pillow and weighted blanket. Her sleep mask, the teddy bear she received on her tenth birthday, and, of course, her room darkening shades. It could be the afternoon on a summer day, but it may as well have been midnight in Casey’s room, and that’s just how she liked it.

But today, she was twisting in the sheets at the crack of dawn. The hot sun was beaming through the sheer ‘why even bother’ curtains, and she shielded her eyes as they hesitantly opened. The room was bright – stark white with minimalist decor, not at all like her own. She didn’t recall her hotel room looking quite this modern... then, she remembered...

“Oh, my God!” She gasped.

She pulled the sheets around her as she sat up. But the sheer panic gripping her didn’t appear to be contagious because the devilishly handsome man lying naked beside her couldn’t have been more at ease.

“Oh, my God!” she repeated, her eyes desperately searching the room for any remnant of her clothing.

The happily slumbering man half-smiled, eyes still shut, a content look on his face. 

“Do you have somewhere to be?” he asked groggily as he looped an arm around her. “No need to get up this early, darlin’.”

“My clothes,” was all she could manage. “I don’t see my clothes.”

A broader smile appeared on his lips; he leaned on one elbow to address her.

“If I remember correctly, we started taking those off at the front door. If I were a betting man, I’d say we left a trail between there and about two feet outside my bedroom.”

“OK,” she said, starting out of bed with the sheet wrapped around her as if he hadn’t become intimately acquainted with everything underneath the night before. “Then I need to go get them.”

Leaning back with his head resting in his hands, he watched as she tried to contain her panic.

“You could... but my roommate is still at home. He should be gone in about thirty minutes... so why don’t you come back and join me until then.”

“You’re roommate,” she squealed. “So someone else on the planet knows that I was here last night.”

“Theoretically,” he shrugged. “It’s not like he saw you or caught your name... although....”

“Although?”

“I may have yelled it out once or twice... so chances are he knows your first name.”

“Oh, God!” she whimpered, rubbing her temples.

“Relax, he wouldn’t be able to pick you out of a police lineup. You have nothing to worry about.”

Casey plopped back on the bed with a huff. He was right. There was no way she was leaving his room until the apartment was empty, so she might as well cool her heels. When she told him she wasn’t the type to get picked up at bars last night, she meant that. But she wasn’t naïve; after one look in those aqua-blue eyes, one gaze at his tantalizing grin, she already knew he would make a liar out of her.

As much as he found her spiraling amusing, he didn’t see the point in making the poor woman suffer any longer. 

“Casey,” he spoke softly, extending a hand. “Come lay down. It’s all right, you don’t have to be so... so tense.”

She fell back with a sigh, careful to keep a safe distance between them.

“Yes, I do. This,” she gestured feverishly, “isn’t something I normally do. Waking up in the bed of some guy whose name I can’t recall isn’t my thing.”

She couldn’t tell if his insulted look was genuine or for effect.  

“I’m pretty sure you remember my name.”

“Why?” she snapped, turning to face him. “I was screaming it out last night as well?”

“Please don’t tell me you don’t remember. I don’t know if my ego could handle that.”

She wanted to keep a straight face, but when she turned to him, she had to smirk.

“Why do I think your ego would be intact no matter what.”

“Because you don’t know me too well,” he grinned.

And what a grin. It was magnetic; it had to be. Because when he leaned in to kiss her, she found her body falling into his without permission. The moment his lips touched hers, she was done for, forgetting  why she was fighting at all. He pulled back and brushed her hair behind her ears, his sensual swagger replaced with an aura of genuine concern.

“You’re not married,” he stated. “Not even in a relationship. We discussed that last night.”

“OK?”

“And you weren’t drunk. Two glasses of wine, followed by two glasses of water. I would never take advantage of anyone.”

“I didn’t insinuate that you did, but what’s your point?”

“My point is we didn’t do anything wrong. Even if this isn’t something you normally do, I really hope you won’t feel bad because you did. I’d hate to think you have regrets... I know I sure don’t.”  

Her eyes shut as he caressed her cheek. Images of the previous night flashed through her mind. His cheesy pickup lines at the bar, lines that would have had her running from away from others, but from him... they worked. They were almost charming. His hand rested on his chin, and his eyes sparkled as he watched her speak, looking at her like she was the only person in the world. It was intoxicating. He was wrong; she had been drunk, not on alcohol... only on him.  

Hours passed, and the bar was about to close. He offered to walk her to her car, and in the parking lot, one tender kiss led to another, then one more, and then, they weren’t so tender anymore.

“You staying nearby?” He whispered, his breath hot on her ear.

“My hotel’s about twenty minutes away,” she offered. “But... is your place closer? I’m not sure I want to wait that long.”

His smile broadened as he lifted her to the roof of her car with ease. The weight of his body pressed against her as he kissed her ear, her neck, her collarbone. It didn’t tickle, but she couldn’t stop giggling.

“Why don’t we go to your place before we do something that will get us arrested?”

“Depriving us of a good time,” he grinned. “Your car or mine?”

The hours that followed were a blur. A beautiful, erotic, blissful blur. His hands were on her face, shoulders, her breasts. His hands and tongue traced every contour of her body, leaving her trembling and aching for more... and how he delivered. Straddled on top of him, lying beneath, side-by-side, they rode to the peak of ecstasy time and time again before collapsing into each other’s arms.

They talked for hours. She wasn’t sure why she told this man more than her past three partners combined, and he was amazed at how easy it was to share with her. With neither of them interested in sleep, kisses reignited their passion, and after one final wave, they were blissfully spent. None of those sleep aids she normally used required, and Casey quickly fell asleep in his arms. Tobias played with her hair, kissing the top of her head until he nodded off as well. It was like a dream in the dim haze of the night, but the morning sun ushered in a different reality she hadn’t been prepared to face.

“Tobias!” she smiled. “Your name is Tobias.”

“Ahh,” he grinned. “See, I knew I was unforgettable.”

“I’m sorry for freaking out,” she sighed. “I’m not accustomed to going to a bar to meet one date and going home with someone else.”

“Not for nothing, but I’m glad the asshole didn’t show up. So, you thinking of going to Hopkins?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “Wait, did they send you to sweeten the deal?”

Tobias barked out a laugh. “Not quite. Besides, I’ll be heading off to my residency next year, and I assure you, there’s no one else like me on campus.”

“Oh really? Where are you trying to match? Maybe I’ll apply near there,” she winked, laughing when she saw the worry in his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m only joking... I know this is a one-night thing...”

A slamming door stopped her midway through.

“That’s Ethan heading out... my roommate.”

“Ah,” she nodded. “Then I suppose I should get my clothes.”

Tobias seemed engaged in an inner battle as she stepped out of bed. Her hand was on the doorknob when he blurted out.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“What?”

“A one-night stand... that’s not what this has to be. I know you’re finishing college in New York, and I’m here in Baltimore. Neither of us has any idea where we’ll be a year from now, so... I’m not....” he trailed. 

“You’re not proposing,” she smirked, eliciting another laugh from him.

“All I know is that I’d love to see you again. I don’t want this to be a one-night thing unless that’s what you want.”

“It’s not,” she smiled, falling back into bed with him. “It’s not what I want at all.”

“Good,” he smiled, lifting her chin higher for another lingering kiss.

“Mmmm,” Casey moaned as she pulled away. “I am soooo glad Jordan canceled on me.”

Tobias jumped back, his eyes widened.

“So, wait... Jor... Jordan!?”

“Yes. Jordan, the guy who stood me up last night.”

“Oh, fuck...” Tobias groaned, rolling on his back. “His last name? Please... do you know the guys last name?”

“Uh... I haven’t been talking to him too long, but uh... C... it starts with a C... Car... Car...”

“Carrick!” They said in unison.

“You know him?” Casey asked.

“Yeah, only since birth.”

“What?!”

You know him?

“He’s my kid brother.”

“What! You have to be fucking me?”

“Well,” he chuckled nervously, “I sort of already did that.”

“Fuck!” Casey cursed. “This makes things... awkward.”

“Yeah... it does,” he droned, looking at her with almost sadness. “So, maybe this is a one-night stand?”

Casey lowered her eyes, not sure why this stung so much.

“If you think that’s best,” she started, then stopped herself cold. “No... it doesn’t have to be. It’s not like I even met Jordan... and he stood me up! That’s on him.. not us... but... but...” she heaved out a breath. “He’s your brother... so it’s probably best if this is it,” she bit her lip and stood up. Putting on her clothes was long overdue. “That’s what I get for going home with a guy from the bar.”

“It’s not for the best.”

“What? What’s not?”

“This being a one-night thing... you walking out that door and me never seeing you again. That’s not for the best. It’s not like you were dating my brother like you said... You never even met. I’ll talk to him. I’m sure it’ll be fine and... I’d like to see you again, Casey,”

She fell back into bed, “I was really hoping you say that.”

“You know, I have to admit...you do have phenomenal taste in men. I mean, our genetics is...”

“Would you shut the hell up?” She laughed.

His lips were already upon her when he whispered, “With pleasure.”

And clothes wouldn’t be needed for several more hours...

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Other tags on reblog

[noisychildyouth]

**Title: The Obsession of Shadows**

**Setting: Modern-day Chicago, within the crime-ridden territories controlled by the Elites and the Vipers.**

---

In the heart of Lincoln Park, where the manicured lawns and elegant architecture masked a world of deceit and shadows, Millie Brooks found herself living a life that felt surreal. A week before her sister Eva's wedding, the chaos of betrayal had unraveled her world, leaving her trapped in a gilded cage, forced into the role of a bride to Dorian Brooks, a man known for his cold demeanor and ruthless ambition.

Millie, a once-promising ballerina, now limped through life, her dreams shattered like glass on the stage she once graced. The accident that had ended her career was still a fresh wound, the memory a constant reminder of her lost potential. But what stung more was the fact that Dorian had orchestrated her sister's escape, the calculated man behind the curtain who had manipulated circumstances to claim her as his own.

As Millie settled into her new home—a modernist mansion filled with sterile elegance—she felt the weight of Dorian's presence looming over her. He was a towering figure, his sharp blue eyes often devoid of warmth, but when they locked onto her, she felt a mixture of fear and an inexplicable thrill. She was his wife, yet she felt like a shadow, a replacement for the brighter sister who had run away to pursue her own desires.

Dorian was everything she had avoided in her life—intense, powerful, and disturbingly possessive. His world was one of crime, hidden beneath layers of sophistication, and she was the unwitting pawn in his dangerous game. Despite the resentment she sensed from him, there was an undercurrent of obsession, a flicker of something deeper that made her stomach twist.

Their nights were filled with an uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by the sound of her own heartbeat and the rustle of his tailored suits as he moved through the house. She often caught glimpses of him in the shadows, his body honed from years of discipline, tattoos peeking from beneath his sleeves—a canvas of stories that she longed to understand.

Yet, every time she tried to breach the surface of his stoic exterior, he would retreat, his walls impenetrable. She wondered if he resented her for being the lesser sister, the broken ballerina who could no longer dance, or if her presence brought him some twisted sense of satisfaction. The uncertainty gnawed at her, leaving her restless in her own home.

One evening, after a particularly uncomfortable dinner with her uncle Theodore—a man who treated her like a mere accessory to Dorian's life—she found herself standing in the darkened living room, gazing out at the city lights. The flickering glow felt like a distant reminder of the life she had lost, of the dreams that hung just beyond her reach.

The sound of footsteps drew her attention, and she turned to find Dorian standing in the doorway, his silhouette sharp against the dim light. He approached her with an intensity that made her heart race, yet fear coiled in her stomach. Millie braced herself for his inevitable reprimand, for his cruel words that cut deeper than any knife.

"You're a fucking pushover." His voice was low and steady, each word a dagger aimed at her vulnerability. "You let them treat you like garbage. You let them walk all over you."

She opened her mouth to protest, to defend herself, but he silenced her with a hard grip on her jaw, his fingers digging into her soft skin. The pain was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil that swelled within her.

"Is that all you know how to do? Be everyone's doormat?" His breath was hot against her ear, and she shivered, both from fear and an inexplicable thrill.

"I—" she started, but he interrupted her, tightening his hold as if he could physically mold her into the person he wanted her to be.

"Grow a fucking backbone. Or did you lose that along with your career?" His words were venomous, and she felt the sting of each syllable. He leaned closer, their faces inches apart, and a part of her was terrified of what he might do next.

"At least Eva knows how to stand up for what she wants." The knife twisted deeper, and Millie's heart sank at the mention of her sister, the woman who had escaped this life. The woman Dorian had truly wanted.

But as quickly as the anger had flared, Dorian’s expression shifted—a flicker of something darker dancing in his blue eyes. It was possessive, a primal need that sent shivers down her spine.

"You're mine now," he whispered, his voice a low growl that sent heat racing through her body. "And I won’t let anyone treat you like that again. Not your uncle, not anyone."

In that moment, she realized the depth of his obsession. He was a man who thrived on control, who relished in the power he held over her. But beneath the surface of his cruelty, she sensed a flicker of something more—a twisted form of affection that both terrified and intrigued her.

As the days turned into weeks, Millie found herself caught in a web of Dorian's making. He watched her closely, his gaze never leaving her, and she often caught him in moments of quiet surveillance, as if he were cataloging every detail of her life. Each time their eyes met, a spark ignited between them—a dangerous chemistry that made her heart race and her skin tingle.

But with that chemistry came fear. She felt trapped in a marriage where love was a foreign concept, where desire was tainted by the darkness that surrounded Dorian. He was a man who reveled in power, and she was the prize he had long coveted.

One night, as she lay in bed, the silence of the house pressing in around her, Millie found herself unable to sleep. Her mind raced with thoughts of Dorian, of the way he moved through the world with an unsettling grace. She was drawn to him, yet repulsed by the darkness that lurked beneath his polished exterior.

The moonlight spilled through their bedroom window, casting shadows across the room, and she turned to find him sitting in the corner, his silhouette sharp against the pale light. He was watching her, his blue eyes glinting like ice, and her heart raced at the intensity of his stare.

"Why do you watch me like that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt exposed, vulnerable beneath his gaze.

"Because I can." His response was immediate, a statement of ownership that sent a shiver down her spine. "Because you belong to me."

Millie's heart raced at his words, and the air between them crackled with tension. She wanted to challenge him, to assert her independence, but the fear of his wrath held her back. Instead, she found herself drawn to him, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his darkness.

As the nights passed, Dorian's possessiveness deepened, and with it, the complexities of their relationship grew. He was a man who demanded obedience, yet he also seemed to crave her submission. Millie found herself caught in a whirlwind of emotions, oscillating between fear and desire, between submission and rebellion.

One evening, as they shared a tense dinner, Dorian's demeanor shifted. He leaned closer, his voice low and dangerous. "You know, little swan, I've been thinking about your ex-partner."

Millie's heart sank. James had been a source of comfort during her recovery, a reminder of the life she once lived. But Dorian's gaze darkened, and she felt the weight of his jealousy pressing down on her.

"He's been texting you a lot, hasn't he?" Dorian's voice was laced with menace, and she felt a chill run down her spine.

"He's just a friend," she protested, but Dorian's expression hardened.

"Friends don't text each other at all hours. Friends don't miss each other." His tone was accusatory, and she felt the walls closing in around her.

"You're overreacting," she said, trying to maintain her composure. "It's nothing."

Dorian's eyes flashed with fury, and he leaned closer, his breath hot against her skin. "You think I'm overreacting? You think I won't protect what's mine?"

The intensity of his words sent a thrill coursing through her, and she found herself torn between wanting to defy him and the undeniable attraction she felt toward his dark nature.

Without warning, Dorian stood, his chair scraping against the floor as he towered over her. "I won't allow anyone to come between us. Not him, not anyone. You need to understand that."

Millie's heart raced as he stepped closer, the air thick with tension. "What are you going to do?" she asked, her voice trembling despite herself.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. "I'm going to make sure he knows exactly who you belong to." The promise in his voice sent a jolt of fear and excitement through her.

As the days turned into a blur of passion and pain, Millie found herself caught in a dangerous dance with Dorian. He was a man who thrived on control, who reveled in the power he held over her, and with each passing day, she felt herself slipping further into his world.

But beneath the surface of his obsession, she sensed a flicker of something deeper—a twisted form of affection that both terrified and intrigued her. She was a pawn in his game, yet she couldn't shake the feeling that, in some dark way, he cared for her.

One night, as they lay entwined in the sheets, the aftermath of passion still lingering in the air, Millie turned to him. "Dorian, do you even care about me? Or am I just a replacement for Eva?" Her voice trembled with the weight of her question, and she held her breath, waiting for his response.

His expression darkened, and she felt the tension in the air shift. "You're not just a replacement," he said, his voice low and intense. "You were always the prize, little swan. Eva was just a means to an end."

Her heart raced at his words, and she felt a mix of emotions swell within her—fear, desire, and a strange sense of belonging. Dorian was a man who thrived on control, yet he had chosen her, the broken ballerina, as his wife.

But as the shadows of his past loomed over them, Millie couldn't help but wonder what price she would have to pay for his obsession. Would she ever escape the darkness that surrounded him? Or would she be forever bound to a man who reveled in power and manipulation?

As the city lights flickered outside their window, Millie found herself caught in a web of desire and fear, torn between the man who held her captive and the remnants of the life she had once known. In the end, she knew that the only way to survive in a world of shadows was to embrace the darkness that lurked within her husband and to find the strength to reclaim her own identity—no matter the cost.

And so, the dance continued, a perilous waltz between love and obsession, where every step drew her deeper into Dorian's world, and every heartbeat echoed the promise of a love that thrived in shadows.

---

**Word Count: 1,029 Words (To be continued...)**

[puddle-nerd]

Venus in Lace

Summary: Never send your man a picture of yourself in lingerie (especially on his birthday) unless you’re prepared to be quiet. (Lo'ak/Reader)

Prompt 13 (In Public) for my submission for LunasKinktober2023

Story Tags: No use of Y/N, Aged up characters, everyone is legal, Yes they’re both eighteen+!, Female Reader, Modern AU, Human Lo’ak, Human Reader, In Public, Lingerie Shopping, In the Changing Room, Fingering, Soft Dom Lo’ak, P in V, Vaginal Intercourse, Unprotected intercourse, Mentioned Birthday Sex, Creampie

You were at the mall at a fashionable lingerie store, trying on a set when you got the text: Hey bby. Where u @?

You quickly grinned and instead of answering, snapped a photograph of yourself in the matching bra and panty you were considering buying and hit send, only texting words afterwards: What do you think, birthday boy? Should I get this set?

Your boyfriend didn’t answer immediately so you put your phone down and started taking the new underwear off, grabbing the other set to try on. You’d just smoothed everything into place when you heard a voice call out your name. You perked up, realizing your boyfriend had come to find you. “Baby, you still in here?”

Curious, you peeked from behind the curtain and met Lo’ak’s gaze. He instantly smirked and stride towards you. With you backing up, he ducked behind the curtain to join you in your changing room stall, his gaze darkening in lust as he took in the second set of underwear you’d put on. “What do you think of this one, instead?” You teased, reaching out playfully and tucking your fingers beneath his soft tee-shirt and into the waist of his jeans. “You like this one better?”

“I think they’re both pretty great,” Lo’ak responded quietly, backing you up and caging you against the wall of the changing room, “but I think I’m gonna like unwrapping my present better.”

You hum and glance at the last piece you had wanted to try on. You point it out and tell him to sit in the provided wingback chair since you had hung your clothing on one of the extra hooks. The young man sat back, spreading his knees and watched you strip off the underwear set and grab a bright red lacy teddy. The material was softer than you had anticipated with a thin collar that tied at the back of your neck and a thin golden heart-shaped hook just level with your belly, holding the plunging neckline from gaping obscenely. It came down to your crotch and turned into a thong, pulling up against your body teasingly. “I’ll need some help tying this piece,” you told him, holding the two ends of the ribbon that would secure the small of your back, leaving the rest of your spine bare.

You backed up into the juncture of Lo’ak’s thighs and felt him begin to tie you up. Before he let you go, though, he spanked your mostly bare bottom lightly, smirking as you flinched in surprise. In retaliation, you sat down upon his lap, rubbing yourself over where he was already getting hard. “Fuck, baby,” Lo’ak groaned, grabbing your hips, guiding your movements over him. “Best twenty-first birthday ever. You’re definitely getting this one.” You grinned, trying not to whimper as the teddy caught on his jeans slightly and pulled, creating friction against your clit. “I should take this off,” you muttered. “Don’t want to ruin it before I buy it.” Lo’ak let you up and watched avidly as you untied yourself and stripped the red lace off your body. He didn’t let you go far though, dragging your naked body back to sit on his lap, your back to his front. He manhandled your legs apart and slid a hand over your pelvis, cupping you intimately. “Dirty girl, getting all hot and bothered in a changing room,” Lo’ak teased, sliding two of his fingers inside of you. “Look how wet you already are. It’s almost like you want me to fuck you right here, right now.” You wriggled in his lap, humping yourself into his hand. His cock was firm beneath your bottom. “Wanna play, little girl? Can you keep quiet for me?” You nodded, trying to steady your voice as you whispered back, “Yes, sir. Yes, I can.” Your answer and the tone it had been delivered in must have satisfied him because he leaned you forward just enough to free himself from his jeans and underwear before guiding you down onto him. Even after all this time, it was a stretch you needed a moment to get used to, sighing as your walls fluttered to accommodate his length. You settled yourself into him and began to ride, eyes flicking to the closed curtain of your changing room. The idea of getting caught was terrifying but also so thrilling. It helped you speed up your movements as you actively worked at stifling your reactions to the pleasure building up inside you both. All it would take was another customer coming back here or a nosey attendant and you could both get caught and worse. Lo’ak pulled you backwards, halting your movements and taking over as you draped yourself over his chest. This position didn’t allow him as deep penetration but it rubbed a spot inside you that had your eyes rolling in pleasure. One hand on your hip, the other tweaked your nipples as he hammered up into you from below. “Ohhh, oh fuck,” you moaned, immediately turning your face into his neck to stifle your noises. “Yeah, that’s it, baby,” he grunted, bouncing you on his cock. “Fuck, I can feel you getting close. Touch your clit for me.” You obliged, arching into him as you got closer. “Lo,” you whined. “Quiet, baby, or they’ll hear us,” he panted. “Just a little more. About to fill ya up. Give ya the cream.” You nodded, pressing into him harder and playing with your clit even more. “Oh, fuck, about to – cum with me, baby. Fucking…” Lo’ak grunted through gritted teeth as he burst, shoving you down hard onto him as he finished. You rubbed yourself a little more and felt him bite down on your shoulder and immediately followed after, trying not to cry out as pleasure shuddered through your body. You both panted, relaxing back into the chair and grinned, meeting each other’s gaze. You both started to giggle and kissed each other happily, reveling in the afterglow and the fact that you hadn’t gotten caught. As if on cue, footsteps on the carpet sounded and you and Lo’ak froze. “Miss? You okay, in there?” “Yep, just great, almost finished,” you called out, trying not to burst out laughing. The attendant told her to call if you needed anything else and padded away. You and Lo’ak sniggered to yourselves and shared a triumphant kiss.

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Originally Posted: 13 October 2023 Word Count: 1,064

AO3

@pandoraslxna, @eyweveng

[masteringlight]

The Art of Light Control: Modern Room Darkening Curtains for a Stylish Home

At Lanting Curtains, our mission is to enhance the ambiance of your home by providing high-quality, modern room-darkening curtains that block out light and noise and add a touch of elegance and style. We are dedicated to delivering excellent consumer service and innovative products that fulfill our customers' evolving requirements, making their living spaces more comfortable, aesthetically pleasing, and restful. With a focus on sustainability and ethical practices, we strive to be a trusted brand in the home.

[thehues-home]

Transforming Home Theaters with Thermal Insulated Blackout Curtains

Creating the perfect home theater experience involves more than just a big screen and comfy seating. To truly immerse yourself in the movie, you need to control light and sound effectively. Thermal insulated blackout curtains are an essential component in achieving this goal. In this article, we’ll explore the numerous benefits of using these curtains to enhance your home theater for optimal light and sound control.

The Importance of Light Control in Home Theaters

One of the most critical aspects of any home theater is the ability to manage light. Ambient light from outside can wash out the image on your screen, diminishing your viewing experience. Thermal insulated blackout curtains are designed to block out all external light, ensuring that your home theater remains dark and conducive to movie watching.

Benefits of Light Control:

Enhanced Picture Quality: By eliminating glare and reflections, you can enjoy more vibrant colors and clearer images.

Mood Setting: A darkened room helps create the right atmosphere for an immersive experience, drawing viewers into the film’s world.

Why Choose Thermal Insulated Blackout Curtains?

Thermal insulated blackout curtains offer more than just light-blocking benefits. Here’s why they are a fantastic choice for home theaters:

1. Temperature Control

These curtains help maintain a comfortable temperature in your theater by blocking heat from entering during the summer and preventing warmth from escaping in the winter. This means your HVAC system won’t have to work as hard, leading to energy savings.

2. Sound Insulation

Insulated curtains are excellent for sound control. They can significantly reduce noise from outside, creating a quieter environment that enhances your viewing experience. Whether it’s traffic, barking dogs, or lawnmowers, sound insulating curtains can help keep the focus on the movie.

3. Versatile Aesthetics

Available in various colors, patterns, and fabrics, thermal drapes can easily complement your home theater’s design. Whether you prefer a sleek modern look or something more classic and cozy, there’s a curtain option that fits your style.

Choosing the Right Thermal Insulated Blackout Curtains

When selecting thermal insulated blackout curtains for your home theater, consider the following factors:

1. Fabric and Thickness

Look for curtains made from thick, multi-layered materials. Fabrics like velvet, polyester, or heavy cotton blends provide superior insulation and light-blocking capabilities.

2. Color and Design

Opt for darker colors to maximize light-blocking efficiency. Rich hues like deep blue, charcoal, or even black can not only enhance the blackout effect but also add a touch of elegance to your home theater.

3. Length and Width

For effective light control, choose curtains that extend from the ceiling to the floor and are wide enough to cover the entire window frame. This ensures that no light seeps in from the sides or bottom.

4. Installation Method

Consider how you will hang your curtains. Rod pockets, grommets, or clips can all provide different looks and ease of use. Ensure that the hardware you choose complements your theater’s decor.

Styling Your Home Theater with Thermal Insulated Blackout Curtains

Here are some tips on how to style thermal insulated blackout curtains in your home theater:

1. Layering

For added insulation and light control, consider layering your blackout curtains with sheer drapes. This combination allows you to enjoy natural light during the day while still having the option to block it out completely when watching movies.

2. Matching Decor

Coordinate your curtains with your theater’s color scheme. If your walls are painted a deep shade, matching your curtains can create a cohesive look. Alternatively, choose curtains in a contrasting color to make a bold statement.

3. Accent Lighting

Incorporate accent lighting in your home theater to enhance the ambiance. Wall sconces or LED strips can complement your curtains and create a theater-like atmosphere, making it feel even more inviting.

4. Use of Patterns

If you want to add visual interest, consider patterned thermal drapes. Geometric or abstract designs can elevate the overall look of your theater without compromising on functionality.

Conclusion

Thermal insulated blackout curtains are a game-changer for home theaters, offering superior light and sound control while enhancing energy efficiency. With the right choice of curtains, you can transform your viewing space into a cinematic paradise, ensuring that every movie night is an immersive experience. Whether you’re an avid movie buff or a casual viewer, investing in quality insulated curtains is sure to elevate your home theater experience to new heights.

[atplblog]

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[mmarketdbmr]

 Window Covering Market – Industry Trends and Forecast to 2030 Leaders, Graph, Insights, Research Report, Companies

"Window Covering Market Size And Forecast by 2030

According to Data Bridge Market Research Data Bridge Market Research analyses that the Global Window Covering Market which was USD 25.84 Billion in 2022 is expected to reach USD 35.55 Billion by 2030 and is expected to undergo a CAGR of 4.07% during the forecast period of 2022 to 2030

Our comprehensive Window Covering Market report is ready with the latest trends, growth opportunities, and strategic analysis. https://www.databridgemarketresearch.com/reports/global-window-covering-market

**Segments**

- By Product Type: The window covering market can be segmented based on product type into blinds, shades, curtains, shutters, and others. Blinds segment includes vertical blinds, horizontal blinds, and mini-blinds that offer privacy and light control options. Shades segment consists of roller shades, cellular shades, Roman shades, and others, which provide a variety of light-filtering and room darkening options. Curtains are available in various fabrics, styles, and lengths, offering a decorative element to the window. Shutters provide a classic and elegant look to the windows while also offering light and privacy control.

- By Material: The market can also be segmented by material into fabric, plastic, metal, wood, and others. Fabric window coverings are popular for their soft texture and varied design options. Plastic coverings are durable, easy to clean, and come in a wide range of colors and styles. Metal coverings offer a modern and sleek look while providing excellent light control. Wood coverings add warmth and elegance to the space, with options like bamboo, hardwood, and faux wood available in the market.

- By Distribution Channel: The window covering market can be segmented based on the distribution channel into online retail, specialty stores, department stores, and others. Online retail channels have gained popularity due to the convenience of shopping from home and a wide range of options available. Specialty stores offer a personalized shopping experience with expert advice on choosing the right window coverings. Department stores provide a one-stop-shop for home decor needs, including window coverings in various styles and price ranges.

**Market Players**

- Hunter Douglas - Springs Window Fashions - Nien Made Enterprise - Newell Brands - Comfortex Corporation - MechoShade Systems - Decora Blind Systems - Mecho - Budget Blinds - Creative Windows Ltd.

The global window covering market is a dynamic and competitive industry with key players constantly innovating to meet changing consumer preferences and technology advancements. Market players like Hunter Douglas, Springs Window Fashions, and Nien Made Enterprise are leading the market with a wide range of window covering products in various materials and styles. Newell Brands, Comfortex Corporation, and MechoShade Systems are also significant players in the market, offering innovative solutions for light and privacy control. Decora Blind Systems, Mecho, Budget Blinds, and Creative Windows Ltd. are also notable players contributing to the market growth with their diverse product offerings and distribution channels.

https://www.databridgemarketresearch.com/reports/global-window-covering-market The global window covering market is witnessing significant growth driven by factors such as increasing urbanization, rising disposable incomes, and growing awareness regarding home decor. One of the key trends shaping the market is the growing preference for energy-efficient window coverings that help in maintaining optimal indoor temperatures and reducing energy consumption. Manufacturers are increasingly focusing on developing eco-friendly and sustainable materials for window coverings to align with the growing environmental consciousness among consumers.

Moreover, customization and personalization have become prominent trends in the window covering market as consumers seek unique and tailored solutions to enhance their living spaces. This trend is particularly evident in the curtains and shades segment, where consumers are looking for innovative designs, patterns, and fabrics to reflect their individual style preferences. Market players are leveraging advanced technology such as digital printing and smart home integration to offer customizable window coverings that cater to the diverse needs and preferences of modern consumers.

Another significant aspect influencing the market is the increasing adoption of online retail channels for purchasing window coverings. The convenience of shopping online, coupled with a wide range of product options and competitive pricing, has led to a surge in online sales of window coverings. Market players are investing in e-commerce platforms and digital marketing strategies to enhance their online presence and reach a wider customer base. Additionally, the COVID-19 pandemic has accelerated the shift towards online shopping, further boosting the demand for window coverings through online retail channels.

Furthermore, sustainability and eco-friendliness have emerged as crucial factors driving consumer purchasing decisions in the window covering market. Consumers are increasingly opting for window coverings made from recycled materials, organic fabrics, and non-toxic components to reduce their environmental impact. Market players are responding to this trend by incorporating sustainable practices in their manufacturing processes and offering eco-friendly window covering options to attract environmentally conscious consumers.

In conclusion, the global window covering market is experiencing robust growth driven by evolving consumer preferences, technological advancements, and sustainability initiatives. Market players are focusing on product innovation, customization, and online retail expansion to capitalize on the growing demand for stylish, energy-efficient, and sustainable window coverings. With increasing urbanization and a greater emphasis on home decor aesthetics, the window covering market is poised for continued growth and expansion in the coming years.**Segments**

Global Window Covering Market, By Product Type (Blinds and Shades, Curtains and Drapes, Shutters, Others), Application (Residential, Commercial), Material (Wood, Metal, Plastic, Fabric), Technology (Automatic, Manual), Business Type (Original Equipment Manufacturer (OEM), Aftermarket), Location (Exterior, Interior), Distribution Channel (Online, Offline) - Industry Trends and Forecast to 2030.

The global window covering market is witnessing a fascinating transformation with diverse product types catering to different consumer needs. The market segmentation based on product type includes blinds, shades, curtains, shutters, and other variations. Blinds, such as vertical, horizontal, and mini-blinds offer privacy and light control. Shades, including roller shades, cellular shades, and Roman shades, provide light-filtering options. Curtains offer decorative elements in various fabrics and styles. Shutters bring a classic and elegant look while providing light and privacy control. The market's segmentation by material into fabric, plastic, metal, wood, and others showcases the versatility of options available to consumers. Fabric window coverings are known for their soft texture and varied designs, while plastic coverings offer durability and easy maintenance. Metal coverings provide a modern look and excellent light control, whereas wood coverings add warmth and elegance to spaces.

By considering the distribution channels, online retail, specialty stores, department stores, and others enable consumers to access window coverings seamlessly. Online retail channels are gaining popularity due to convenience and a wide range of options. Specialty stores offer personalized experiences and expert advice. Department stores provide one-stop solutions for home decor needs, including various styles and price ranges of window coverings.

**Market Players**

- Hunter Douglas (Netherlands) - Lotus & Windoware Inc. (U.S.) - Bombay Dyeing (India) - Insolroll Inc. (U.S.) - Mariak (U.S.) - Welspun (India) - SKANDIA WINDOW FASHIONS, INC. (U.S.) - LAFAYETTE INTERIOR FASHIONS (U.S.) - Inter Ikea Systems B.V. (Netherlands) - MechoShade Systems, LLC (U.S.) - Comfortex Window Fashions (U.S.) - Hillarys (U.K.) - Louvolite (U.K.) - Vista Products Inc. (U.S.) - Decora (U.S.) - Ena Shaw Ltd (U.K.)

The global window covering market is propelled by factors like urbanization, rising disposable incomes, and an increasing focus on home decor. One notable trend in the market is the preference for energy-efficient coverings that help maintain optimal indoor temperatures and reduce energy consumption. The market is witnessing a surge in customization and personalization, especially in curtains and shades, as consumers seek unique designs to reflect their style preferences. The adoption of online retail channels has grown significantly, especially accelerated by the COVID-19 pandemic, further boosting the demand for window coverings online. Sustainability and eco-friendliness are becoming paramount in consumer buying decisions, pushing market players to offer eco-friendly options and incorporate sustainable practices in their manufacturing processes. In essence, the window covering market is poised for continued growth driven by innovation, customization, sustainability initiatives, and the increasing demand for stylish and functional window solutions.

The market is highly fragmented, with a mix of global and regional players competing for market share. To Learn More About the Global Trends Impacting the Future of Top 10 Companies in Window Covering Market :   https://www.databridgemarketresearch.com/reports/global-window-covering-market/companies

Key Questions Answered by the Global Window Covering Market Report:

What is the current state of the Window Covering Market, and how has it evolved?

What are the key drivers behind the growth of the Window Covering Market?

What challenges and barriers do businesses in the Window Covering Market face?

How are technological innovations impacting the Window Covering Market?

What emerging trends and opportunities should businesses be aware of in the Window Covering Market?

Browse More Reports:

Data Bridge Market Research:

☎ Contact Us:

Data Bridge Market Research

US: +1 614 591 3140

UK: +44 845 154 9652

APAC: +653 1251 982

✉ Email: corporatesales@databridgemarketresearch.com"

[eaglehealthcare123]

Smart Window Tinting: The Future of Energy Efficiency & Privacy Introduction

Smart Window Tinting: The Future of Energy Efficiency & Privacy Introduction As modern architecture embraces open spaces and natural light, the demand for innovative window solutions has skyrocketed. Smart window tinting is transforming how homeowners and businesses manage privacy, energy efficiency, and comfort. With advanced technology, smart tinting allows users to control light transmission with the touch of a button, providing seamless adaptability for any space. In this blog, we’ll explore how smart window tinting enhances energy savings, privacy, security, and comfort, making it the ideal solution for modern homes and offices.

What is Smart Window Tinting? Smart window tinting is an advanced electrochromic or photochromic film technology that allows glass surfaces to change transparency levels automatically or manually. Unlike traditional window films, smart tinting adapts to environmental conditions, providing customizable control over light and heat transmission. Types of Smart Window Tinting

Electrochromic Tinting – Adjusts transparency via an electric charge.

Photochromic Tinting – Reacts to sunlight, darkening automatically.

Thermochromic Tinting – Changes tint based on temperature variations.

Suspended Particle Devices (SPD) – Uses microscopic particles to control light levels.

Liquid Crystal Display (LCD) Films – Switches between frosted and clear with a button press.

The Benefits of Smart Window Tinting

Energy Efficiency & Cost Savings • Reduces Heat Gain: Blocks infrared rays, keeping interiors cool in summer. • Minimizes Heat Loss: Acts as insulation, preventing warmth from escaping during winter. • Lowers Energy Bills: Reduces reliance on air conditioning and heating systems. • Sustainable Solution: Supports green living by reducing energy consumption.

Enhanced Privacy on Demand • Adjustable Transparency: Switch between clear and frosted settings instantly. • Ideal for Homes & Offices: Perfect for boardrooms, bathrooms, and storefronts. • No Need for Curtains or Blinds: Maintains an open-concept look while ensuring privacy.

Protection from UV Rays • Blocks up to 99% of Harmful UV Radiation. • Prevents Fading: Protects furniture, flooring, and artwork. • Reduces Health Risks: Minimizes skin damage and eye strain.

Improved Security & Safety • Shatter-Resistant: Reinforces glass, reducing the risk of breakage. • Burglar Deterrence: Makes forced entry more difficult. • Reduces Glare: Enhances visibility for work and relaxation.

Smart Integration with Home & Office Automation • Remote Control Access: Adjust tint levels with a smartphone app or remote. • Voice Command Compatibility: Works with smart home systems like Alexa and Google Assistant. • Scheduled Tint Adjustments: Automate settings based on time or sunlight exposure.

Smart Window Tinting Applications

Residential Use • Smart Home Automation: Integrates with existing home automation systems. • Bedrooms & Bathrooms: Offers instant privacy without sacrificing aesthetics. • Sunrooms & Living Spaces: Controls glare and heat without blocking views.

Commercial Buildings & Offices • Conference Rooms: Enhances privacy for meetings and presentations. • Storefronts & Showrooms: Switches between advertising displays and privacy mode. • Workspaces: Reduces glare for employee comfort and productivity.

Healthcare & Hospitality • Hospitals & Clinics: Provides privacy for patient rooms and consultation spaces. • Hotels & Resorts: Offers customizable window views for guest comfort.

Automotive & Transportation • Luxury Vehicles: Enables adjustable tinting for enhanced comfort. • Public Transport: Provides privacy and UV protection for passengers.

How Does Smart Window Tinting Work? Installation Process

Assessment & Customization: Determine the best film type for specific needs.

Preparation & Application: Professional installation ensures a seamless finish.

Integration with Smart Systems: Connects with automation for easy control.

Final Adjustments & Testing: Ensures proper functionality before use. Maintenance Tips • Use a Non-Abrasive Cleaner: Avoid harsh chemicals to maintain film integrity. • Soft Cloth for Cleaning: Prevents scratches and preserves clarity. • Regular Inspections: Ensures optimal performance over time.

Why Choose Whitby Tint for Smart Window Solutions? ✅ Premium Quality Films – High-performance, durable materials. ✅ Professional Installation – Ensuring bubble-free, long-lasting results. ✅ Custom Solutions – Tailored to your home, office, or commercial space. ✅ Advanced Technology – Cutting-edge smart tinting solutions. ✅ Customer Satisfaction Guaranteed – Exceptional service with long-term benefits.

Get Started with Whitby Tint Today! Transform your space with Whitby Tint’s smart window solutions and experience the future of energy efficiency, privacy, and security. 📞 Call: 647-834-3544 📍 Visit: 21 Olerud Dr, Whitby, ON 📧 Email: info@whitbytint.com 🌎 Website: www.whitbytint.com Upgrade to smart window tinting – where innovation meets functionality!