#modern glass nesting

[unproduciblesmackdown]

spinning off of "winston being fantastically (literally fantastical (literally related to fantasy)) clairvoyant (he is also figuratively clear-sighted / figuratively preternaturally perceptive just like, in the show. which is where this all comes from. plus him calling himself cassandra, always seeing the future. he really has always / continued to be thusly) and taylor literally has a broadsword" type fun and games that are very loosey goosey b/c billions aus go spinning off into their own separate dimensions super easily when billions canon is so rooted in its specific Stage Settings of modern day US law n finance battles in the office, sidewalks, and eateries:

the thought of winston & tuk and winston gets to be a fairy. jokes, please. changelings are right there with the common theory of "was this to explain disabilities & go 'something could go Wrong and the baby's not a Person and get rid of that,' unlike nowadays where people do that but go 'b/c that baby's disabled'" and also one goes Thinking Emoji about how apparently New Mothers and New Brides were susceptible along with New Borns to become swapped out with a fairy and now something's wrong with them and get rid of that. had to be about Something given that people apparently did act on changeling lore and martin luther is taking a stance like yeah another thesis, it's important to kill them And okay to kill them b/c they don't even have a soul anyways. okay thanks martin luther....meanwhile also witchcraft and getting after anybody for that too. and fairies generally as Problems, the etymology going back to [fate], the range like "ooh hehe causing funny little inconveniences just because" to more so "yeah they could cause life-threatening illness for that" and "yeah they'll just kill you"....and i think fairy/fey as respective noun/adj re: being gay is of Unknown Origin, like "gay" also is. and you never know, if being fey is like, well something's not right and it's dangerous, whether this is the inspiration....though by the time this slang starts turning up, and even in the time of prior possible origins / the roots in other usages / potential inspirations, theoretical actual fairies are surely becoming more Fanciful, this being around like, the 18th century, rather than "here's martin luther telling you to immolate! that! baby!"

but that like, you can have it all ways out here. the Always Small fairies i think being a later kind of victorian deal, rather than "fairies are shapeshifters & can become animals e.g. & May have a 'tiny little inches or millimeters high mode' but that's just a mode & the fact that generally though they just look like people, maybe with some stylistic variations and tells, means watch out" and i think wings came up ever, across yknow the various centuries and regions of folklore out here lmao and possible origins / influences yet further across time & regions & cultures, but again "always small and always winged" being a very relatively modern victorian deal. but we can draw on that to be sure when, additionally, a Potential mutual [would prefer to avoid] between fairies and humans (as opposed to "if your house or some shit is on a fairy path bestie just build them another door to walk straight through cuz they're Gonna") becomes "no, fairies mostly avoid humans more than the other way around" type of imbalance of any threat means like, well hey sure, the Real Self could then become a tiny little magical guy having fun with wing designs who is shy and elusive but maybe another fun little guy can accidentally become aware but then have a secret little hidden friendship hmm....

but then also just thinking of the version where you just look exactly like everyone else and live amongst them, changeling style. and potentially don't Know you're different, or at least not Why, b/c this is a "from birth" thing like hmmm ya don't say. and the whole thread where in some folklore fairies Aren't nonhuman, the difference is only about the separate fairy Realm you live in, which is different, with like "yeah sometimes fairies come from people who died." and alongside / overlapping with everything like "yeah you could disappear for a few days to that realm and then be like 'don't wanna / can't talk about it'" and whatever all various like "watch out for the liminal and unknowingly wandering or being taken into the fairy world and Then watch out for communing with them b/c then you could be Permanently affected, or permanently continually affected or vulnerable, or just stuck there. and we wouldn't want that" like well don't let them know your name but maybe try to find out their names b/c you can get at them in turn that way, don't get in on any food, don't get in on any parties. though variations, sometimes people getting whisked away for particular tasks that apparently Only humans can do. or forever potential for helpful / sympathetic fairy interventions in life. like fairies raising humans b/c their human parents were awful

also, that some classic Tests for "is your baby a changeling?" were very like, "well i guess if we drowned or burned that person and they just died about it....our bad," in the way that like apparently the way to go could be "put them in the fire. where they'll either burn or fly out the chimney." or "start going tf beating them with objects. so that they go away" like and they never stop beating winston with hammers out here!! or the classic "idk abandon them in the forest so fairies can take them back" like well they do also like [i prefer to pretend winston doesn't exist / forget that he does] lmao. this isn't really related. just the ol "ballpeen hammers kind of goated when it comes to putting someone in a sack and beating them to death" factor out here for your local changelings

also sure thinking of like ohh watch out for winston and his gayass Realm he exists in which is wrong and not of our own and potentially will forever change you with its gayass ways. uh oh don't get corrupted into a whole other powerful magical mode of existence if you commune with him in some deep fundamental nourishing ways. oh nooo watch ouuuut....one of the "you might be a changeling if" moments being "when they think they're alone do they act up?? dance??" like yeah i'm stimming and bursting into motion and making noises and existing wrong when i think i'm alone. Old Souls (theory as well that newborn changelings were secretly elderly fairies)....existence in the Fey Realm just making you different and out of place huh. and it would just be a guy though like either [undetectable except by already trying to kill them] and/or [actually just a human, fairies are just humans, fairies b/c they're in/from the fairy realm] but uh oh don't let him corrupt you. don't go hanging out with him and talking with him and partaking in his activities and embracing his ways. you'll be changed. you'll never fit in around here and be able to do things right ever again. we'll have to start beating you with hammers. and all for what. your weird gayass little guy and a whole possible other dimension of existence? vs all This? smh

#that fey little mf. all the same glasses hoodies cargo pants winston.... #winston billions #you can't go wrong. sort of semi fantastical au. or just modern day ''fairies can even be in your hedge fund office'' magical realism #not even like there's clear Powers lol like what do fairies do? well bit fuzzy on that but one things for sure: #cause problems for US!!!! like wow the way symptoms & definitions of disabilities are approached much? #you might be a fairy if....ouch i'm dead of unclear causes in 1337. Not very 1337.... #winston is truly always causing problems. also learned that ''oaf'' (another word i've recently thought like ''i would just not say that'' #b/c for some reason the nyt i believe described orville wingate as [still an(?)] Oaf & i was like a) huh b) excuse me) derives from fairy #as it was a term for a changeling specifically :I which juuust so happens to lead to connotations of Stupidity(tm) & Clumsiness(tm) #hmm! you do not say it! #what could changeling winston do? up for grabs. but the point is: change(ling) your life. and other fun things :) #also i think another potential fairy ability was: seeing the future as well lol. it's all coming together #seeing winston with fun bird wings b/c you've communed with him ''too much'' already. not an angel thing. a fairy thing #(sidebar abt how some Lore was that they Are an angel thing. see: influence from whole other traditions lol) #winston Becoming a bird b/c he can do things like that b/c fairies are shapeshifters. he's a pigeon =) you have a nest for him =) cooing #another parallel like ''definitely don't fuck him or you're locked in to his gay autistic realm for sure'' #just like how as a theoretically real world autistic person everyone just knows winston isn't allowed to have sex #nowadays how ridiculous to imagine going: we think someone is weird & dislike their vibes; they shouldn't exist. we should ostracize them #we would never be like; some corruption has caused your child to exist wrong. basically taking your Real child away from you #or when they do tragically exist that they should be driven away to any possible extent up to ''just kill them :( sorry for You btw'' #with the Possibility fairies could give you your Real Human Child back.... #autistic kid? number one recommendation totally isn't ''put them in specialized abuse school where we try to banish the autism for you''

[forever-lunasea]

Contemporary Living Room - Loft-Style

#Image of a mid-sized formal living room with a dark wood floor and gray walls. glass top console table #modern nesting tables #abstract artwork #modern floor lamp #contemporary artwork #glass window wall

[reasonsforhope]

"Chicago’s 82-story Aqua Tower appears to flutter with the wind. Its unusual, undulating facade has made it one of the most unique features of Chicago’s skyline, distinct from the many right-angled glass towers that surround it.

In designing it, the architect Jeanne Gang thought not only about how humans would see it, dancing against the sky, but also how it would look to the birds who fly past. The irregularity of the building’s face allows birds to see it more clearly and avoid fatal collisions. “It’s kind of designed to work for both humans and birds,” she said.

As many as 1 billion birds in the US die in building collisions each year. And Chicago, which sits along the Mississippi Flyway, one of the four major north-south migration routes, is among the riskiest places for birds. This year, at least 1,000 birds died in one day from colliding with a single glass-covered building. In New York, which lies along the Atlantic Flyway, hundreds of species traverse the skyline and tens of thousands die each year.

As awareness grows of the dangers posed by glistening towers and bright lights, architects are starting to reimagine city skylines to design buildings that are both aesthetically daring and bird-safe.

Pictured: Chicago's Aqua Tower was designed with birds in mind.

Some are experimenting with new types of patterned or coated glass that birds can see. Others are rethinking glass towers entirely, experimenting with exteriors that use wood, concrete or steel rods. Blurring lines between the indoors and outdoors, some architects are creating green roofs and facades, inviting birds to nest within the building.

“Many people think about bird-friendly design as yet another limitation on buildings, yet another requirement,” said Dan Piselli, director of sustainability at the New York-based architecture firm FXCollaborative. “But there are so many design-forward buildings that perfectly exemplify that this doesn’t have to limit your design, your freedom.”

How modern buildings put birds in danger

For Deborah Laurel, principal in the firm Prendergast Laurel Architects, the realization came a couple of decades ago. She was up for an award for her firm’s renovation of the Staten Island Children’s Museum when the museum’s director mentioned to her that a number of birds had been crashing into the new addition. “I was horrified,” she said.

She embarked on a frenzy of research to learn more about bird collisions. After several years of investigation, she found there was little in the way of practical tips for architects, and she teamed up with the conservation group NYC Audubon, to develop a bird-safe building guide.

The issue, she discovered, was that technological and architectural advancements over the last half-century had in some ways transformed New York City – and most other US skylines and suburbs – into death traps for birds...

At certain times of day, tall glass towers almost blend into the sky. At other times, windows appear so pristinely clear that they are imperceptible to birds, who might try to fly though them. During the day, trees and greenery reflected on shiny building facades can trick birds, whereas at night, brightly lit buildings can confuse and bewilder them...

Pictured: A green roof on the Javits Convention Center serves as a sanctuary for birds.

The changes that could save avian lives

About a decade ago, Piselli’s firm worked on a half-billion-dollar renovation of New York’s Jacob K Javits Convention Center, a gleaming glass-clad space frame structure that was killing 4,000-5,000 birds a year. “The building was this black Death Star in the urban landscape,” Piselli said.

To make it more bird friendly, FXCollaborative (which was then called FXFowle) reduced the amount of glass and replaced the rest of it with fritted glass, which has a ceramic pattern baked into it. Tiny, textured dots on the glass are barely perceptible to people – but birds can see them. The fritted glass can also help reduce heat from the sun, keeping the building cooler and lowering air conditioning costs. “This became kind of the poster child for bird-friendly design in the last decade,” Piselli said.

The renovation also included a green roof, monitored by the NYC Audubon. The roof now serves as a sanctuary for several species of birds, including a colony of herring gulls. Living roofs have since become popular in New York and other major cities, in an inversion of the decades-long practice of fortifying buildings with anti-bird spikes. In the Netherlands, the facade of the World Wildlife Fund headquarters, a futuristic structure that looks like an undulating blob of mercury, contains nest boxes and spaces for birds and bats to live.

The use of fritted glass has also become more common as a way to save the birds and energy.

Earlier this year, Azadeh Omidfar Sawyer, an assistant professor in building technology in the Carnegie Mellon School of Architecture, working with student researchers, used open-source software to help designers create bespoke, bird-friendly glass patterns. A book of 50 patterns that Sawyer published recently includes intricate geometric lattices and abstract arrays of lines and blobs. “Any architect can pick up this book and choose a pattern they like, or they can customize it,” she said.

Pictured: The fritted glass used in Studio Gang’s expansion of Kresge College at the University of California, Santa Cruz, depicts the animals in the local ecosystem.

Builders have also been experimenting with UV-printed patterns, which are invisible to humans but perceptible to most birds. At night, conservationists and architects are encouraging buildings turn off lights, especially during migration season, when the bright glow of a city skyline can disorient birds.

And architects are increasingly integrating screens or grates that provide shade as well as visibility for birds. The 52-floor New York Times building, for example, uses fritted glass clad with ceramic rods. The spacing between the rods increases toward the top of the building, to give the impression that the building is dissolving into the sky.

Gang’s work has incorporated structures that can also serve as blinds for birders, or perches from which to observe nature. A theater she designed in Glencoe, Illinois, for example, is surrounded by a walking path made of a wood lattice, where visitors can feel like they’re up in the canopy of trees.

Pictured: The Writers Theatre, designed by Studio Gang, includes a walking path encased in wood lattice.

Rejecting the idea of the iridescent, entirely mirrored-glass building, “where you can’t tell the difference between the habitat and the sky”, Gang aims for the opposite. “I always tried to make the buildings more visible with light and shadow and geometry, to have more of a solid presence,” she said.

Gang has been experimenting with adding bird feeders around her own home in an effort to reduce collisions with windows, and she encourages other homeowners to do the same.

“I’ve found that birds slow down and stop at feeders instead of trying to fly through the glass,” she said.

While high-rise buildings and massive urban projects receive the most attention, homes and low-rise buildings account for most bird collision deaths. “The huge challenge is that glass is everywhere.” said Christine Sheppard, who directs the glass collisions program at the American Bird Conservancy (ABC). “It’s hard to know what I know and not cringe when I look at it.”

Tips for improving your own home include using stained glass or patterned decals that can help birds see a window, she said. ABC has compiled a list of window treatments and materials, ranked by how bird-safe they are.

Whether they’re large or small, the challenge of designing buildings that are safe for birds can be “liberating”, said Gang, who has become an avid birdwatcher and now carries a pair of binoculars on her morning jogs. “It gives you another dimension to try to imagine.”"

-via The Guardian, December 27, 2023

#conservation #birds #avian #ornithology #new york city #chicago #united states #architecture #green architecture #conservation biology #construction #sustainability #glass #glass windows #skyscraper #cityscape #buildings #bird conservation #birdwatching #good news #hope #“hey mc why is this post so in depth and full of pics compared to what you usually post” you ask #great question #the answer is bc I like architecture a lot #...well I like the kinds of architecture I like a lot lol #bauhaus can fight me tbh #but sustainable architecture is awesome #also this article actually came with a bunch of pics #which yknow most of them don't #cw animal death

[furniturebyabd-blog]

From sheering, cleaning & dyeing of the wool to the hand braiding of each knot that goes into the marvelous production of Indian crafted woven creations. Each handmade throw pillow cover is handcrafted on a special loom which is tailored to produce an ideal soft hand-knotted woven rug from washed dye Himalayan Woolen Luxury throw at its finest.

https://furniturebyabd.com/nivvas

#Design Institute America Modern Glass Console Tables Brooklyn New York #Cre Art Srl Brand Crystal Articles Brooklyn New York #Theodore Alexander Nightstand Brooklyn New York #Theodore Alexander Nesting Table Brooklyn New York

[muzansfangs]

Blue jeans.

Starring: Muzan Kibutsuji x f!reader;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, modern au, age gap, reader is twenty-one, sugar daddy dynamics, car sex, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, oral sex (Muzan receiving), use of alcohol, cigarettes, vaginal fingering, size kink;

Plot: You were his addiction. Young, beautiful and full of life, you made him forget about his problems for hours, whenever you met. The day you two had crossed paths for the first time, he thought it was not going to be anything more than a simple one-night stand. “No feelings involved” he had told you. Then, why did he miss you whenever you left?

Track: Blue jeans — Lana del Rey "You were sorta punk rock, I grew up on hip hop, but you fit me better than my favorite sweater".

MASTERLIST FOR THE EVENT.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

He enjoyed your presence. As he now stared at your smooth, naked back facing him on his bed, he ran one hand through his curly, dark hair and sighed. He was not someone who grew attached to people. Feelings were foreign to him. Maybe he never learned how to love, or maybe love was never instilled into his heart. You, however, you had disrupted his whole life.

He blamed it on your laughter, or on the way your eyes glistened whenever you talked about something you liked. You were so innocent, at times. He loved the way your eyes widened and you hummed in delight, whenever he made you try some exotic dish you did not even know the existence of, until the menu was kindly handed to you by the gloved hand of a waiter.

He did not mind spoiling you.

You were young, your delicate features were a blessing to him. You were the sugar he needed in his sour life.

Glancing at your sleeping frame one last time, he reached his hand towards the nightstand, grasping his lighter and his cigarette pack. Another habit of his not even you could help him get rid of. He opened it absent-mindedly, only to realize it was the last one. Perhaps, it was truly time for a change then.

This cigarette was his last one. And you, you were the last woman he would have ever let step into his life. It was time to settle down, after all. He had spent too many nights in random downtown bars, hooking up with strangers he never remembered the name of, only to search for something he never found: warmth.

You were not supposed to be different. You were supposed to he as shallow as the others, but you were not.

It happened eight months ago. Chatting with your friends, drink in hand, you had caught his plum red eyes that infamous saturday night. Ignoring his presence was impossible. A man like him was too charismatic not to draw attention. The way you had tried to resist him, though, that had made him crave you. He stared at you from his stool, shooting captivating glances at you, trying to make you understand that he was demanding your attention. Defiantly, you barely locked eyes with him, almost making him lose his patience. In other circumstances, he would have probably picked someone else to give him the proper attention he demanded, but there was something about you that made his blood boil.

He wanted you that night.

When you suddenly stood up and slided onto the stool next to his one, still pretending not to see him, he chuckled. You were a delicacy, a rosebud in a nest of thorns ready to wound him, but he was old enough to know how to play his cards right.

“A double whisky, please” you asked the bartender, but Muzan interjected in your conversation.

“It’s on me” he smoothly said, half-lidded eyes staring at the liquid into his own glass.

It irked you. Did he just buy you a drink?

“Yeah, it’s on him” you replied sassily then, averting your eyes from the barman to look at him. He was handsome, elegant, older than you. His cologne pierced your nostrils as you leaned slightly closer to him to search for his eyes, the red eyes he had made sure you would have never been able to shake off of your mind ever again.

“Apparently, you’ve finally got the hint” Muzan lowly said, twirling the rum into the crystal glass before drinking it down in one gulp and gently settling it back onto the counter.

You grinned and propped your elbow onto the marble green surface in front of you, your chin rested on the palm of your hand as you watched the barman grasp a bottle to fill your glass. It was thrilling the way he felt so self-assured, his presence alone was enough to make your head spin.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I was just thirsty” you said, earning a chuckle from him.

“You could have asked the barmar to refill your glass from the table” he pointed out, shifting his position to turn his body around and face you properly.

Your cheeks flushed up and, when the glass of whisky was slided towards you, you were quick to grasp it to focus on something else that was not him. You failed so effortlessly though.

“What is it that you want?” you asked him eventually, raising your glass towards your mouth and biting down on the rim softly, before taking a sip of the liquor. It burned down your throat, just like his eyes burned on your skin.

Muzan did not miss his chance and let his eyes travel up and down your small frame. You were perfect, perfect for what he had in mind. Smaller than him, delicate and bold. Being a CEO took away his energy, he needed a distraction and you were a good one. Too precious not to ruin.

He leaned forward, his hot breath fanning your earlobe as he grinned and moistened his upper lip thoughtfully. It was clear that you were affected by his actions. He could see the way your breath hitched and the way your grip on the glass tightened significantly as he spoke “Frankly, just your mouth around my cock” he whispered only for you to hear.

Your eyes widened and you inhaled sharply, as his words sank in. He had no filters and you could not blame him for it. Why? It was probably the force of habit. A man like him could snap his fingers and obtain what he wanted right away. The thrill of doing such a dirty, lewd thing to a stranger, to a man like him, someone you would have probably never met again was tickling your most dark fantasies.

It took you several seconds to make up your mind. You sighed, gently setting your drink on the counter and glanced at your friends from above your shoulder. They were staring at you curiously, some of them probably wondering what you were about to do in excitement and some of them were honestly analyzing the scene with wary eyes. Indeed, the latter ones were the wisest.

“I have a dignity” you pointed out, darting your eyes back on Muzan.

“Growning up, you’ll find out there are things far way more valuable in life than what other people may think of you” he promptly replied, straightening his necktie casually. He seemed tired and not the kind of man who wanted to hurt you. He was not going to coax you into giving yourself away, he just hoped you would say him ‘yes’.

And you did.

As you two stumbled out of the bar fifteen minutes later, you knew you were probably going to either regret it for your whole life, or look back at it as an exciting adventure you had had with an older man on a boring night. He had told you his name was Muzan Kibutsuji. He had whispered it over your lips, right before pinning you against his car door.

His lips captured yours in a fervent kiss, holding your face with both of his huge hands, as his tongue entered your mouth with expertise and elicited a soft series of moans from your throat. It was not just his experience that blew your mind: it was him. It was clear as he unbuckled his belt, in the privacy of his car, and tangled his fingers through your hair.

He locked eyes with you, searching for the slightest sting of fear. He would have stopped immediately, if he had spotted it. Yet, there was just the hunger of anticipation in those glimmering eyes of yours and he firmly but carefully pushed your head down towards his crotch. With your eyes closed, you did your best to pleasure him. Your tongue twirled around the tip, right over the sensitive spot, making him groan softly in pleasure.

It was exactly what he needed. As you began to suck him off, you were slowly making his problems fade away and stress flow right into your warmth mouth. You almost gagged as he bucked his hips up in pleasure and he lolled his head back into the leather headrest, exhaling through his nostrils. When you were sure he was just going to let you finish him off like that, he surprised you.

“Stop” he breathed out, shifting on his seat to grasp the wallet from his pocket.

As he pulled out a condom from it and ripped it open with his teeth, you stared at him in both excitement and fear. Was he going to simply take you without a proper foreplay? You were about to point it out, when he grasped your jaw and planted a tender, passionate kiss on your lips to silence you.

“I am nothing like those dogs you are used to. I know how to properly stretch out a woman” he whispered, almost offended that you had thought so low of him.

“I didn’t—” you tried to apologize, but he simply scoffed and made the words die on your tongue as he pushed the thin fabric of your panties to the side and began to draw smooth figures eight on your bundle of nerves.

You moaned, blushing faintly in the dark car as you finally met a man who knew how to touch you properly. What did you expect? He was twice your years, a man of class, of power. He had told you himself he was not like the guys you were used to.

“You are beautiful, by the way” he whispered lowly, watching the way you arched your back as he thought you were wet enough to take another step. You hummed, squeezing your eyed shut as you adjusted yourself to his thick fingers. It was too much, it was overwhelming, and you could not believe what was truly happening.

He was so skilled that you had almost forgotten you were in a car, in a desert parking lot. You wanted him, you wanted him more than that, therefore you opened your eyes and gripped his wrist gently as a sign for him to stop his ministrations. You were ready for him. For all of him.

And as you straddled his lap, allowing him to guide your hips down to perfectly sink onto him, you knew things would have never been the same again. The thing was that, despite the rather brute way he had told you what he wanted from you, he did not just fuck you that night. The way his mouth hovered over yours, the way he held you so close to him, as if he was afraid you were going to slip away from him grasp, made feel something more.

There was loneliness in that passion, a void that needed to be filled.

Bouncing on his lap, you tugged at his hair, your thighs trembling as his shaft kissed your cervix and his mouth kissed the exposed skin of your neck. He had finally found it: the warmth of a young heart.

Now, putting his cigarette out on the silver ashtray he keeps on his nightstand, he grinned and rolled on his side. Resting his cheek on the pillow, he watched you. He never grew tired in doing it. You were a piece of art from a private collection, a gem. His fingertips glided down your naked back, trailing up towards the spine and grazing over the shoulderblades. You were his. You were his and no one else’s.

You hummed at the feeling, gently lifting your head to glance up at him. Your sleepy eyes always got him and, although he forced himself not to smile, you could swear his upper lip twitched.

“Hey…” you whispered softly, half-lidded eyes staring at him in adoration.

He did not say a word, he simply stroked your hair as if he wanted to lull you back to sleep. Yet, you had learned to read him and his poker face. There was something on the tip of his tongue.

“What is it?” you inquired, not moving an inch but keeping your eyes locked with his red ones.

“Nothing”.

“Liar. I know that look on your face. You want to ask me something. — you replied, sitting up and letting the silky blankets pool down over your waist — Speak up, Kibutsuji” you invited him to talk, poking his biceps with your index.

He loathed your childish ways to make him give up and talk, but he was almost defenseless in front of them. You were his greatest weakness.

“Actually, I got no questions for you. It’s just that… Well, I’m falling for you, I guess” he confessed.

Never in his life he had pulled down his mask like that. However, a love confession from him was overdued. He spoke his mind no matter what. He was not scared of his feelings for you. It was just that, for the first time ever, he did not want to ruin you, as he thought he wanted the night you two met.

You stared at him with your lips slightly parted, your cheeks heating up, as you scooted closer to him and snuggled into his chest. His chest, where you could hear his steady heartbeat, was your favore place to sleep. It comforted you.

“I love you too, Muzan” you mumbled, closing your eyes as you felt his arm flex and wrap you up into a tight embrace. There was no escape.

Maybe it was a trap, maybe it was the highway to paradise. You did not know for how long it would have lasted. All you knew was what you felt and, in that very moment, you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

Until you filled the void in his heart. Until it broke your bones. Until it hurt.

Tags: @mrskokushibo @doumadono @yazzzmints @tired-writer04 I dedicate this piece to you!❤️

#kibutsuji muzan x reader #muzan x reader #muzan x you #muzan smut #muzan x y/n #muzan kibutsuji x reader #demon slayer smut #muzan kibutsuji #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer muzan

[leonw4nter]

Silver Screen

RE2R!Leon x F!Reader modern AU (The 300 followers special!)

You walk into the room, an iPad opened to the latest installment of the fanfiction series you’ve been following for quite some time carried in the nook of your arm and salted caramel boba tea in the other. Setting the sugary drink on the table beside your spot on the couch, you temporarily put your iPad down to get into a comfortable position in the small pillow and blanket nest you’ve made for yourself. With a pleased sigh and an excited grin, you take a long sip of the beverage before finally picking the iPad up and have the coziest time of your life.

You were having a solid few hours of the coziest time of your life until you heard some soft sniffling coming from somewhere in the living room along with the faint pads of feet against the wooden floorboards. You look up, your eyes finally focused on something else other than pixels that formed words on a bright screen. There, you see him: your roommate Leon whose face is in his hands, ears red, and what seems to be muffled crying– no, sobbing as he walks around in circles.

Concerned for your friend and roommate, you get up from your place and walk up to him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You place a hand on his broad back, patting and gently stroking it back and forth. Leon finally lifts his head up, wiping off his tears with the sleeve of his dark green sweatshirt.

“This author was not playing around, ended up crying.” is all he said which prompted you to try and hold back a giggle. So he’s been reading fics too, you think to yourself.

“Can I read it?” you ask, to which he nods and fishes his phone out from the pocket of his plaid pajama pants.

“Lemme find it real quick,” he responds. He’s still sniffling, the waterline of his eyes occasionally brimming with a new batch of salty tears before he blinks them away. He finally finds the fic he’s been reading, handing you his phone while he walks over to the kitchen to grab himself a glass of water to stop hiccuping.

“You sure you’re fine?” you call out before you read.

“Yeah! Fic was just really… it was just something!”

You start reading the fic, your eyes trailing on the words on the screen. The words seemed familiar so you guessed that Leon had stumbled on a fic you’ve read before. Wrong! It was your fic, a fic you finished updating around last night. No wonder it was too familiar. You stared at the phone in your hand with wide eyes like a deer in headlights, a child caught with a jar of sweets in her hands when she shouldn’t have been eating sugary things. Your gaze drifted to Leon in the kitchen, who was still somehow trying to control his breathing while chugging down water like his life depended on it. He didn’t seem to notice the sudden drain of color in your face so you continue to scroll down, checking if he left any likes or reblogs or comments on your work. Another bombshell dropped: he’s the top reader of your work and the one that’s been keyboard smashing in the comments, along with the… soulful, emotional reblogs. His account is the one that’s religiously kept up with whatever you post, whether it be new fics or just random vents. BiohazardBard, the sweet account who comments nice stuff like “Don’t worry about us, take some time for yourself! U got this!!” and reblogs with tags like “UEIXGOFQWV CRIED SO HARD U DONT EVEN KNOW IEWBRXXR”on angst fanfiction is your roommate and also your crush.

You stand there in silence, mouth ajar as you continue to stare blankly into his phone, unable to process the fact that he’s aware of your online persona but he doesn’t know that it’s you. You exit the app and turn his phone off, walking over to him in the kitchen and give him pats to his shoulder to really make sure that he’s okay. If he’s calmed down then you’re not– internally, that is.

“That fic uh… it truly was something,” you sympathetically say. “Guessed that the part where uh- she leaves him was the one that got the water works going.”

“Oh um nope, it’s the part where things were slowly spiraling down. Got anxious for them then just full-on bawled when shit hit the fan,” he explains with a sheepish smile. “This fic is just bars, I love it so much actually– Might print a copy of this to take to work when I can’t be on my phone.”

To have your fics reblogged and your account be compared to the unburned version of the Library of Alexandria is one thing but to hear your number one dedicated reader say that to your face? After a breakdown? Nothing will ever top that and he doesn’t even know he just ugly-cried in front of the author he keeps up with.

“Imagine someone coming up to the front desk to be like: “hi someone stole my bike” or something and they call you over and their resident cop is just red as hell and all slobbery,” you joke.

“Shut up! I’ll try not to cry, I’m going to build immunity,” he half-jokes before taking another gulp of water.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

You lay awake at night, staring into the dark nothingness of your room. Your feelings are all convoluted– joy, fear, embarrassment, amusement, excitement– and it’s hard to pinpoint what is ruling over you. Finding out that the man whom you’ve been hinting your feelings for is obsessed with your writing? In complete adoration with the products of your mind and skill? Hopefully he doesn’t suss out on your more romantic and sappy fics, inspired by real-life events you experienced with him (with more romantic and glittery bits). It doesn’t take even a minute to decide that you’ll be keeping this secret from him in order to not make anything weird between you two. Leon already seemed embarrassed after having been caught sobbing like that by a mere set of pixels on screen so you decided that this would be best for both of you. Unable to sleep due to the combined combination of boba tea and adrenaline, you sit up and reach for your phone because reading a fic or two before bed doesn’t hurt, right?

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

It’s been a few days after the little “incident” and Leon’s been more open with showing you some fics he enjoys, occasionally giving his own reviews and recommendations for you. He’s still the same guy that keyboards smashes on your comments and on his reblogs, which makes you giggle since you know who’s been sending you that. He finally came home from a long day of work only to do some more work outside of office hours, catching up on reports that some absent cops left behind and was handed over to him. Making himself a cup of coffee, he stretches his arms and hands before typing away on his dingy laptop for the next 3 hours. A few hours later, you hear some giggling coming from him so you bring your head up and spot his head once again buried in his hand, ears red but from giggling this time. He swings his legs, accidentally nudging the leg of a chair so he yelps a bit, which tugs a little chuckle from you. His ears pick up on the jolly noise coming from you, his face glowing when he sees you smile (or are you just seeing things?). He asks for you to come over to him and points at something on the screen of his laptop.

“Thought you wanted uninterrupted time for work,” you ask.

“I’m on a break, I think I deserve it,” he confidently says. “Anyways, take a look at this. Starting from here until here.”

You expected that you’d see another fic of yours but it was from another account’s instead, which disappointed you a slight bit but not that you minded too much. You finished reading the lines, the corners of your lips tugged skyward with a subtle splash of baby pink tinting your cheeks.

“Damn, that’s sweet,” you comment. “Gosh, I want what they have.”

“Me too. Like, hey God I’m still here ya know! I’ve seen what you’ve done for others!” Leon adds on.

Um, hey Leon! I’m literally right here! Do you need glasses? I’m right beside you!

Since you two were having a nice moment sharing fics and fic lines, you decided to show Leon some lines from fics you love.

“Take a look at this one,” you say as you hand him your iPad. “His description of her had me clawing at walls and biting my fist.”

Leon takes the gadget from your hands with care and places them beside his laptop, reading the lines. He reads in silence and it appears that he’s going over the line again and again.

“Who wrote this?” he asks.

“Uh, scottfree.”

“I don’t think I’m getting out of this scot-free,” Leon jokes. “Pun intended.”

“And why is that…?”

“Because I wrote that.”

You look at him in confusion, two neurons in your brain making a very, very, very slow connection in this moment.

“You’re scottfree?! And also BiohazardBard?!,” you exclaim. So he’s also scottfree, the writer whose lines you’ve screenshotted takes up about a third of all images on your phone. Amazing.

“How do you know I’m BiohazardBard?!?!,” he exclaims even louder as he gets up from his seat.

“Because um– the fic you cried over some days ago is mine! And I saw your account name and profile and I found out that you’re one of my loyal readers!”

He looks like he’s ready to wither away into nothing, become dust and probably get sucked in a vacuum cleaner.

“God that’s embarrassing,” he quietly mumbles. “Tell me: is that fic the first fic you’ve read from me? My other account, I mean– the one where I post fics.”

“Scottfree? Um, no… I’ve read like– quite a lot, actually.”

He stares blankly at you, unsure on how to absorb the information dumped on him. He’s only got a half-asleep half of a brain cell now since the rest of them were allocated on getting those papers done with the other half of the remaining brain cell, which he thinks is now gone.

“While we’re at this, um. You must know that the descriptions I write for the love interests are usually what I wished I could say to you or how I’d describe you. When he’s telling her how magical it is to be around her presence? I’ve daydreamed one too many times about really saying that you,” he quietly confides in you. “If I want to write another story, I hope I could write it alongside you.”

They really weren’t playing with slow-burn romance where both of them are too shy to confess their feelings. It’s happening to me right now! I’m in the confession part of the story!

“I guess it’s a writer thing for writers to include parts of someone they like in their works because I did the same thing for my works, actually. If I wanna come up with a real sweet line, I just think about you and I wish that I’d say these to you. Maybe I’ll wish that whatever I write the love interest to say, I’ll hear you say them to me too and uh… manifesting is real I guess, I dunno,” you awkwardly laugh. “Guess the feeling’s mutual, huh.”

“Yeah. Wow, this is… this is amazing. Real amazing,” Leon softly says.

“Mhm.”

“So…”

“So… what now…?”

“I guess this makes as mutuals in terms of accounts and feelings," the blond grins.

NOTE - Once again, thank you to the lovely 310 people who decided to follow me and keep up with whatever I post :)) I first came up with this while I was washing my cats' bowls and I intended for it to be a drabble but I just decided to make it a fic in the end. Still working on other reqs rn so expect some more posts in the coming days <33 If your usernames are somehow the same as the usernames that I made up for this fic then I didn't mean that and it's just a coincidence 😭🙏 Also y'all gotta hear me out on Francis Mosses from That's Not My Neighbor, he's cute :3 Judging from my mlist, I'm not sure if I love RE2R Leon hmm I'm not too sure 🤔 Anyways, that's all and thank you for reading my fics!!!!!!!!! I <33333 UUUUUU !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers are made by @benkeibear , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#fluff #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #re2 #resident evil #resident evil 2 remake #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy fluff #re2 remake #resident evil 2 #re2r #resident evil x reader #rebhfun #biohazard #re2make #leon kennedy x you #resident evil leon #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy fluff #leon resident evil

[jamneuromain]

A Proper Nest

Steve Rogers x You (Reader)

Warning: Omega!Steve Rogers, Alpha!Reader, established relationship, smut, p in v, in heat, a lil breeding kink, sub-ish Steve, creampie if you squint

W/C: 2K

Summary: Steve wants to build a proper nest for his upcoming heat.

A/N: Gifting this fic as a bday present to @rogerswifesblog :3 Wish you all the best things in this world uwu

It was the top secret that Steve was an Omega.

Which was a piece of frustrating news to the higher-ups.

They complained. Multiple times, about why Steve wasn’t one of the Omegas like in the ancient history, which could bear children so that the United States wouldn’t be in short supply of super soldiers.

No. Steve, rare as hen’s teeth, was born a male Omega. Meaning that he could not bear children, that he would suffer from Omega heat, and that he needed a comforting Alpha every six months when his heat would strike.

Waking up in modern days, however, does have its perks.

For example, a big online community focuses on male Omegas, though surprisingly, there were many male Omegas just like him.

For example, there are better scent blockers that will disguise him like a Beta in the crowd if he puts one on his gland.

For example… bonds are created between two loving mates, not forced upon them.

Love and attraction can stay well away from each other, or so he figures, when he is anxious about another upcoming heat that will land in a week, and that he has yet to finish his nest.

Steve presses his nose into your long silk robe, and inhales deeply.

The fresh scent of mint smells calming and comforting, with a hint of laundry detergent. He tucks the robe into the pile of clothes and blankets which he would use to build his nest.

He nuzzles his face with a blanket. The slight roughness irritates him, followed by his folding the blanket into a square and placing it on the floor. He has the decency to fold it now. Wait until it’s three days till the heat and he’d be throwing stuff on the floor, losing his temper, and rather stay inside his nest than do anything.

“Do you need anything, Stevie?” You ask him softly, standing by the door instead of by his side. As his Alpha, you know better than to poke your nesting mate right now.

Steve’s eyes scan your form with a warning glint. “Don’t touch my stuff.” He grumbles, picking up a cotton sheet of yours from the pile of fabrics and clothing he would use to build your nest, and splaying it in the middle of your shared bed.

It’s funny how he’d want you during heat, love you with or without your mutual bond, and also protect his nest like a hatching hen these days. Even from you.

Pouring some water into a glass, you carefully put the glass by the door, “You’re sweating, Stevie. Here’s some water for you, okay? I’ll be in the kitchen to count our stock for next week, give me a shout if you need anything.”

You have no doubt, that even the pile of clothes belongs to you, Steve would tear you down if you approached him without informing him first.

Steve nods somewhat hesitantly. With two pillows and the sheet in place, the basic structure of his nest is gradually forming. Though he would kill for a glass of water right now, the hindbrain urges him to build his nest for his safety and comfort.

The faint scent of mint ghosting the glass you prepared for him, making Steve downing the glass and sniffing it, running the cold glass over his gland.

Fuck. He wants it.

Steve lets out a whimpering noise in protest, but he goes through the pile, sniffing them to find if there is a stronger minty scent.

No.

FUUUUUUUUUCK!

He needs your fucking scent when he has just driven you away because of his omega hindbrain.

His gland is burning, itching for your scent.

Steve throws the annoying pile – a second ago he wanted to make his nest properly, but nothing else matters more than a dose of your pheromone at this moment – onto the bed, roughly arranging them into the shape of a nest, and runs to the kitchen where you were supposed to be.

“… protein bars, check. Chocolate chip cookies, check. Three loaves of bread, check. Two cartons of milk, check.” You murmur to yourself, counting and putting the groceries in place.

Steve embraces you from behind, where he buries his face into the crook of your neck and takes a deep inhale. The wave of mint knocks his hindbrain out cold, a breeze of coolness to his heating body.

“Stevie?” You pat his arm that’s tightening around your waist, closing the refrigerator door, “You okay, baby?”

“Need your scent.” He whines, “Need you.”

The tremor over the bond you shared informs him that you are experiencing joy and somewhat – amusement, which he cannot comprehend.

He is an Omega. AND IT’S PERFECTLY FINE TO APPROACH HIS ALPHA FOR HER SCENT.

Still, it doesn’t make the scene that a grown, beefy, 6’2’’ man whining like a big baby any less amusing for you.

“I hate you.” He whines again, all the while inhaling more of your scent.

“And I love you, baby.” You grin, “Do you want to take a shower? You are sweating a lot.”

“After I finish the nest.” He runs the tip of his nose over your gland, agreeing, before licking it. Once. Twice. Sucking on it.

Your gland is stimulated. Producing pheromones in large quantities that blend into the air around both of you. Although you grew up with this scent ever since you turned Alpha, the heavy and sharp smell of mint is a bit too much compared to the usual amount.

Through the bond, your body knows that your mate will be in heat soon, so it naturally tries to speed up the process – or comfort your mate, whichever comes first.

After he is finally satisfied with the amount of scent your gland produces, he kisses your cheek one last time. By this point, your thin sleeping gown is soaked with his sweat.

You turn around and gently wipe the sweat drops from his brows and his chin with the back of your hand, cupping his jaw, asking softly. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Nest and then shower, ‘kay? We need to cool you down a bit.”

“I’m fine.” Steve scrunches his nose. He doesn’t want your scent, your precious scent, going away and be replaced with stinky shampoo or body wash, even if he’s sweating like crazy right now.

“Stevie, please?”

“Ugh fine.” He pouts so visibly that you are certain you could hang a basket on his lips and it would stay still. Stomping like a kid, he returns to your bedroom, rummaging through the pile much faster.

You shake your head. A small smile hanging by your lips.

The way your Omega eventually agrees with you warms your heart (and your hindbrain). The Alpha in you takes pride in assisting your Omega, taking care of him in any way that’s possible – for example, reminding him to shower as he is too tied up to your nest to prevent himself from getting cold.

Technically, he can’t. But he sweats so much that he could dehydrate, or risk getting electrolyte disorder.

You finish counting the last few items on your list, before there is a light tug on your bond.

Enough to dawn on you that this house has been too quiet.

No ruffling clothes, no murmuring, no Steve walking on the floor barefoot. Not even the sound of distant showers running behind closed doors.

It is too quiet.

“Steve?” You drop the list and head to your bedroom immediately, as a harsher tug on the bond makes you wince.

Steve is entering his heat.

Right FUCKING now.

You slow down, approaching your bedroom. The scent of apple pie and cream hits you like a freight train bus, knocking nearly all of your senses out cold.

“Steve?” You push the door open, revealing a mess of clothing, sheets, blankets, comforters, and a writhing 6-foot naked man on your bed, lying in the middle of your clothes that could barely be called a nest.

“Alpha-” He whimpers, as your scent responds to his almost on instinct, battling for his sanity, “Alpha, please-”

Speed up the process, or comfort your mate – clearly, your pheromones decided on the first. Steve’s heat is at least five days earlier than it was supposed to be.

Letting go of your sleeping gown, you lie on the bed next to him, caressing his faint pink skin and the rising and falling of his chest, “Shh. It’s all good now. I’ve got you.”

Despite the flaming heat that swept over his body, and the tight coil in his guts, Steve grabs your hand and places it on his gland, pleading, both through his voice and your bond to soothe him from the pain.

“Please-”

You unleash your pheromones in a heartbeat. Hovering your body over his, you press a small kiss over his gland.

“Hurts- It hurts, Alpha, make it better-” Steve whimpers, his hand clenches on the back of your neck, urging you to take him, to bite him, to renew your mark again-

Your teeth sink into his skin, drawing out blood, and bite the most sensitive part of his body.

A cluster of pheromones his marked gland leaks reaches your tongue and throat as you lap on the wound to help it heal. Although you doubt it will stay healed for long, the heat will last roughly a week and the marking process will keep happening every time the pain returns to his body.

Swallowing his blood down your throat, it tastes like iron with a faint smell of warm apple pie.

He whispers your name, moaning, as he humps on your thigh. His thick girth chasing your body, wanting to be cooled down. “Want you to ride me,” Steve chokes out, “Y/N, Alpha, please…”

You snake a hand down, stroking his heavy cock, pushing the foreskin to reveal the reddening head. “Shhh,” You coo, “anything for my good boy.”

His cock slides into your weeping pussy with ease, he lifts his hips as you sit, his sweaty hands claw your back, desperate for his release.

You begin bouncing on his lap, moving your body in a steady rhythm, one hand on his abs, the other steadying yourself on the bedside post.

Lowering to kiss his plump lips, you can taste his willingness, his submission, and his unconditional love on the tip of his tongue, when he whines because of your retreating, swaying your hips to create more friction on your clit, clenching your walls as his orgasm arrives.

“Fuck.” He gasps, “Fuck I’m gonna-”

His soft golden strands stick to his forehead, his breath quickens, clinging to you with a firm grasp. He pushes his hip up one more time, veins bulging down his neck, pulsing pheromones to every cell in his body. The mighty super soldier now lying on your bed, almost helpless, begging with his pretty voice and his throbbing cock.

It makes the Alpha in you purr in excitement and satisfaction.

“Cum for me, pretty boy,” You whisper praises by his ear, your lips tracing his clean-shaven jaw, while your nails scratch his delicate gland, leaving a few crimson marks on his neck, “So good for me, Stevie, gonna give me pretty little babies and let me be a mommy, yeah?”

“Yes. Yes.” Steve snaps his hips up, his eyes roll to the back of his head.

A heavy load coats your tight walls. You reach your orgasm soon after, lying on top of him. The heating skin under your palm subdues, as Steve gains his senses back and buries his head in the crook of your neck again.

“… didn’t even build a proper nest.” He mutters. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You run your fingers down his arms fondly, pressing soft kisses to his collarbone, “We’ll build a better one next time.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america fluff #steve rogers smut

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I don't know what to make of this weird house, built in 2003 in Round Top, New York. The description says it's a compound, and has 6bds, 8ba, $3.7M. It looks like it's built from metal sheets, but look at the heavy lanterns and columns, plus the etched glass above the door that says "Crows Nest." I don't know, it just strikes me as strange. Take a look at it.

It appears that the entrance hall is made to look like a vintage home, but they gave it an industrial cement floor and it's part of the living room.

The fireplace is lovely and looks vintage, but who hangs paper lanterns from medallions in the ceiling? The area next to it turns ultra modern w/large glass windows.

Above the vintage part is a railing that looks like a choir loft.

Rustic kitchen with black cabinetry.

Rustic hand-hewn wood in the kitchen.

Family room with a nice fireplace.

Old timey shower room with beadboard paneling and embossed wallpaper with simulated Victorian tin ceiling tiles.

Down the hall is a bar.

And, behind the bar is a wine room.

Kinda love this sink, but not against knotty pine walls.

The primary bedroom is modern and has an extremely ornate doorway.

In the modern en-suite is a medieval chandelier and statuary flanking the tub.

Secondary bedroom is like a little farmhouse room with bright yellow beadboard walls and ceiling, plus a farm light fixture.

Funky little bathroom.

This looks like a family/game room.

But, it must be for guests, b/c there's a dorm style bedroom, too. Although, it is described as a compound.

Bath for the dorm room.

Container garden outside.

Interior of the vast barn-like outer building.

Nice outdoor patio and fireplace.

Cute little treehouse to sit in.

All set on a whopping 170 acres of land.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/278-Crows-Nest-Rd-Round-Top-NY-12473/246326661_zpid/

#compounds #large properties #houses #house tours #home tour

[surrogate-fawn]

Im a fan of #7.

Nesting (Werewolf AU)

Prompt: "The baby feels so low" [Also inspired by @hush-writes-preg's "Spooky Season Day #3" prompt. He can consider this an early birthday gift as well!]

Characters: Fawn, Newt/Asher - Pre-Polly Relationship ((Newt is owned by @mittysins, and Asher is owned by @killer-orca-cosplay.))

Context: This takes place in a modern world where werewolves are common amidst human society. Fawn is a packless Beta who is about to give birth to her ex-mate's pup. Newt, an Omega, and Asher, an Alpha, are a mated pair who took Fawn into their home -- despite the fact they're expecting a pup of their own in a few months. The three have formed a close friendship, though Fawn still feels like an outsider. After all, she was human only a year ago.

Disclaimer: This fic contains lore for my, Mitty's, and Orca's werewolf AU -- be forewarned there will be worldbuilding mixed in with the kink stuff. If story-heavy kink is your kind of thing -- like it is for us three -- enjoy!

TW: A/B/O dynamics, but within the context of a werewolf society; mentions of past abuse, werewolf-related birth troubles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Smoky whisps of incense scented the room with lavender. The shades were drawn over the windows to block the fading sun. Golden fairy lights twinkled in the gossamer curtains woven through the support beams of the nesting tent, the only dots of light in the dark room.

The nylon pop-up tent was specially designed for those who were nesting. It clung to the baseboard and covered the entire bed in a snug, arched shelter. It could be zipped or unzipped in sections to create windows and doors as needed, or it could be shut tight for total privacy. The interior of the tent was stuffed full of jumbo-sized Squishmallow plushies, three oversized duvet covers, and one very pregnant werewolf.

"How you doing, Mama?" the mop-haired Alpha sitting bedside asked.

Fawn's pointed ear flicked in the direction of his voice in acknowledgement before she opened her eyes. She lay curled around a giant fox pillow, the soft material supporting her belly as she lay dozing in the tent. She had opened a section of the tent by the headboard so she could leave the nest if she wanted, but at the moment she didn't feel safe anywhere else.

"I've been better," she said, her voice lagging with fatigue.

A dewy layer of sweat clung to her whole body. Her clothing was shed to the bedroom floor, save for a black tank top and pair of boyshorts. The air around her was temperate, but her body burned with a mild fever. Her muscles felt heavy and useless, tired from months of carrying her pregnancy whilst fighting the tremors of rejection sickness. The worst of it had passed over time; but here she was, still feeling the effects of breaking her pair bond almost ten months later.

Oh, and being in labor for the last nine hours was not helping the situation.

The soft click of the door handle caught their attention. The pair of cryptids lifted their heads to look as it opened, the hallway light reflecting green in the mirrors of their eyes.

Newt's familiar scent -- much stronger than his mate's -- overpowered the lavender as he entered the room. Fawn's sinuses tingled with the spicy-sweet aroma of his smell, comparable to sassafras, that indicated his pregnancy as much as the grapefruit-sized swell of his lower belly. Fawn still struggled to describe the scents that were new to her.

The Omega approached her nest and held out the glass of tap water he'd been sent to fetch. Fawn craned her neck and lapped from it, her mouth too parched to obey her command. Her tongue was longer than it had once been, able to bring water to her throat as easily as any straw. She didn't pause to wrap her lips around the edge of the glass until her thirst was mostly quenched.

"Jeez, don't drown," Newt chuckled as Fawn took the drink from his hand.

Asher, the Alpha, got up from his seat and offered it to his mate with a nod of his head.

Fawn gulped down the last of the water and came up panting for air. "Don't tell me what to do," she retorted with a tired, playful grin.

"Don't tell her what to do, babe," Asher said, unable to disguise the smirk on his face as he set the empty glass on the bedside table.

The three shared a brief, quiet laugh.

Fawn's eyelids drifted closed as the room settled back into silence. She shimmied herself deeper into her pile of softness, falling easily into a twilight sleep; at least, for a few more minutes.

A huff of air left Fawn's nose a split second before her brow creased in discomfort. "Ash, start it," she said, curling tighter around her pillow.

"Yes, ma'am." Asher fumbled to unlock his phone and started the timer on his stopwatch app. "Started."

Fawn filled her lungs with air with one long breath and released it as a drawn-out exhale. The contraction coiled itself around her hips and squeezed, growing tighter by the second. The pain grew like a stinging vine around her belly, her ribs, her back, even wrapping around her upper thighs.

With a low groan, Fawn rolled herself onto her back. Her legs fell open at a wider angle than normal -- a sign her hips were loosening in preparation for her large pup to come through. She continued her ritual of slow, deliberate breathing as the contraction continued to climb to its dreaded peak.

Newt leaned into the opening in the tent, enough for him to run a gentle hand over the clammy skin of Fawn's arm. He didn't say anything, but his touch brought her a sense of ease. Even knowing that Asher was in the room, even if she couldn't see him, made her feel better. They'd only known each other a month, but she couldn't imagine surviving labor without them.

Fawn flashed her fangs in a snarl as the contraction reached its apex, the part she dreaded each time. "Ugh!" she growled through her teeth, her head pressed back into the pillow.

Newt's eyes widened when Fawn hooked her hands beneath her knees, drawing her legs up on either side of her belly. "Are you pushing already?"

"She's what?!" Asher gasped in alarm, his face appearing over his mate's shoulder.

"No!" Fawn growled, hardly able to breathe enough to speak. "My legs are about to fuckin' dislocate!"

She could feel the pup pressing its way out, prying open the flesh of her cervix as her womb squeezed it down. The pressure sent stabbing waves of agony between her legs. Her birth canal opened a little more with each millimeter the pup dropped, and now it was putting unbearable pressure on the ball-socket joints of her pelvis.

Fawn grunted in relief as the contraction ebbed. She released her legs, draping them wide apart over her plushies. Thankfully, Newt and Asher's guest bed was queen-sized and allowed her plenty of space to spread out.

"It's done," she announced, so Asher could stop the timer.

"Ooh, getting close," Asher said. "That one was thirty-eight seconds."

Even that short burst of work sent drops of sweat rolling down Fawn's sides. She pulled her tank top over the curve of her belly and tucked the fabric under her swollen breasts. She caressed the sore underside of her bump in long, soothing circles. The skin around her womb was pulled smooth as glass from the weight of the pup inside. She could feel where its surface was gouged by deep, purple stretch marks. Her pup wriggled impatiently beneath her hands, as if able to sense her touch through the thinness of the skin.

"Call me crazy," she said, "but I'm hoping this baby takes its time. It might rip me apart if it tries to break the speed record."

Asher checked the recorded times in his phone. "You'll be fine, it doesn't look like they're in a hurry," he said. "Just stay relaxed and the pup will keep working its way down."

Fawn gave a thumbs-up. "Copy that, Sarge."

"So, guys, are we taking bets?" Newt asked, resting his upper torso inside the tent.

Fawn tilted her head to peer up at him from inside the canyon of her pillow plushie. "On what?"

"Boy or girl," Newt grinned. He propped his chin up on his hand and beamed down at the redheaded wolf woman. "Should we take bets?"

"You boys can if you want," Fawn said.

"Just you versus me, babe," Asher chuckled from somewhere else in the room. "Fawn already knows, that would be cheating."

"No, I don't," Fawn said, quiet and matter-of-fact. She turned her eyes to the little golden lights twinkling over her head. "I didn't know if a doctor would make me contact my mate, so I never went to one."

At the mention of him, the mating scar at the nape of Fawn's neck became hot. She grimaced, able to feel each small wound his teeth had left when he'd inflicted her with the curse of the wolves. It wasn't as strong of a reaction anymore; the pain had at one point been overwhelming.

When she'd taken that first step out of the apartment with the intention to never come back, the mark had burned so intensely she thought she could smell her flesh searing. She was lucky Todd hadn't been home, because he'd no doubt felt the same sensation on the back of his neck -- where he had forced her to mark him as her mate as well. Had he been home, Fawn wouldn't have made it out of the building before he'd realized what she was doing.

"Besides," Fawn added, "I have no idea if I should go to a doctor or a vet now." Her freckled face paled, and she looked back up at Newt. "Shit, is that offensive?"

Newt laughed and leaned in to rub his cheek against her forehead. "Nah."

Fawn smiled as he brushed against her, leaving a bit of his spicy-sweet scent on her skin. She was still adjusting to perceiving the world through scent as much as sight and touch, but she grew more comfortable with it each time the pair scented her. Scent was transforming into language the more she utilized it. Maybe she wasn't sure how to communicate with it, yet; but there was something about it she was starting to understand.

"We'll show you the ropes once you're over the rejection sickness," Asher said, leaning against the nightstand so he could peer into the nest. "So . . . this guy didn't explain any of our lifestyle to you?"

Fawn shook her head. "Not anything us hum-," she paused, pressing her lips into a thin line. "Not anything humans don't already know. Transformation and full moon stuff, basically. He had me sell my silver jewelry before he'd even kiss me. I didn't know werewolves were that sensitive to it."

The boys shared a concerned look.

"Um," Asher cleared his throat, "we aren't. Silver allergies are rare as hell. A few poor bastards had a fatal reaction hundreds of years ago, and humans assumed it was a rule for all of us."

"Good old stereotyping," Newt said.

The lines in Fawn's brow deepened. "That piece of dogshit," she muttered under her breath. "I sold my grandma's pendant for him!"

Goddammit! Why hadn't she thought twice about Todd suddenly needing to "borrow" that money?! Her mating scar throbbed, seeping heat like an open wound where their pair bond had once been. A fresh sweat dampened her brow.

Newt brushed a few stray curls from Fawn's eyes and tucked them behind the point of her ear. "Fuck him. He's a dick."

"Yeah, fuck him," Asher agreed with a frown. His ear twitched as his scowl deepened, knocking his glasses askew. "Alphas are supposed to protect our mates, not take advantage of them."

There was a brief pause. Asher took off his glasses, cleaned them on his shirt, and added: "For what it's worth, Fawn . . . I'm sorry on his behalf."

"Me, too," Newt nodded. "Not as an Alpha, but as a wolf."

Fawn sighed and draped an arm over her eyes. "Thank you for that, boys. It helps . . . at least a little."

She felt like the world's biggest idiot.

When they'd met, she'd been seduced by Todd's hyper-masculine physique and charmed by his overly protective "doting". How special she'd felt, having an Alpha werewolf want her -- an average human woman -- as his mate. In hindsight, being an average human woman was exactly what made him want her. Easy prey.

How quickly she'd regretted her decision to let Todd put her in a mating press. After she'd endured the weeks it took for her anatomy to shift into that of his kind, Todd had convinced her they needed to breed as soon as possible. He wanted a large pack, as many pups as she could give him. It didn't take her long to realize they were the only reason he'd claimed her. Days after leaving him, she'd detected the strange smell of sassafras on her skin -- though she wouldn't know what that meant for two months.

The rejection sickness had masked any symptoms of a pregnancy. The effects were like that of withdrawal: fevers high enough to cause delirium, tremors, nausea, and full-body aches. She'd spent endless days and nights confined to the bed of a sleazy motel room. What carried her through was the knowledge that Todd was feeling just as shitty as she was. Yet, in her darkest moments, Fawn considered going back to him just to make it stop.

Then, her world changed when a fellow wolf woman at the drugstore offered congratulations based on her scent. This prompted her to buy a pregnancy test, and the thought of going back never crossed her mind again.

"Fellas?" Fawn asked, still blindfolding herself with her forearm. "Is a large pack, like . . . a status symbol for y'all or something?"

Asher shrugged. "Not as much as it used to be," he said. "It used to be a big deal in the past, like before we had the treaty with humans. That was because our packs needed the numbers for defense. But now? Not as much."

"Except maybe for those freakishly traditional families," Newt chimed in.

"Mmm," Fawn hummed in acknowledgement. She placed her other hand on the upper swell of her belly and gave it a thoughtful rub. "Well, this baby is mine. I'm not giving birth for the sake of some insecure asshole. This is my baby."

"Damn right it is," Newt grinned, his blue eyes glittering in the low light.

After a few seconds of silence, Fawn's limp-hanging hand curled into a fist. "Mmm, Ash . . . " Her voice trailed off into a chesty groan.

Newt looked over at his mate. "Ash, start it."

Asher pulled out his phone with a nod. "Starting."

Newt massaged Fawn's shoulder as she once again pulled back her legs. The pressure in her hips was immense, and the contraction was heaving the baby down with unholy force. Fawn pulled harder on her knees until she felt her pelvis widen, the bones drifting apart like tectonic plates.

"Breathe, Fawn," Newt gently reminded. "You're holding it."

Fawn hissed out her breath like a deflating tire. "God, it's coming down," she groaned. She shut her eyes and whined as the pup pressed harder against her cervix.

"Change position," Asher offered, bending down to see inside the nest. "Let gravity help you out."

Fawn released a high-pitched whimper. "My hips . . . my hips hurt."

"Here, hold on." Newt reached around Fawn and pulled out another of her oversized Squishmallows from the pile. He left his chair and climbed onto the bed, crawling through the opening of the tent with the plushie in-hand. "Sit up, love."

Fawn reluctantly let her legs fall. Her bones were lead. With Newt's help, she got to her knees and straddled herself atop the large pillow plushie so her hips could remain open.

"There, that's better!" Asher said, sitting on the edge of the mattress. His phone screen reflected in his lenses, revealing the contraction had lasted twenty seconds already.

Fawn bent forward onto all-fours, rhythmically dipping her hips into the pillow as the pain climbed higher than it had before. The Omega at her side dug the heel of his hand into her lower back, allowing Fawn to rock back against the counter-pressure. Her deep breathing wavered, each inhale growing shallower until the wolf woman was full-on panting.

"Calm down, you're doing fine," Newt lulled, ghosting his claws over her spine. "Deep breaths, like you were doing."

Sweat appeared in shining beads on Fawn's reddened face, dampening the frizzy curls around her temples. "I can't," she gasped. All four limbs trembled, fatigued muscles giving up the last of their strength. "I can't . . . I need to lie down."

Fawn sank chest-first into the fox plushie, arms unable to support her weight. Her tongue dipped in and out of her mouth as she failed to control of her breathing. Her fingers sank into the duvet, claws tearing holes in the fabric.

The end of the tent unzipped, creating an arch-shaped door that Asher climbed in through. While Newt continued to knead Fawn's back, Asher laid himself beside her.

"Hey, Mama, look at me," he crooned, his face appearing in the corner of her vision. When her hazel eyes met his, he said: "You are owning this! There's no need to get freaked out. You're too tough for labor to beat. Take a deep breath for us, alright?"

Fawn wet her lips and maintained eye contact with the Alpha while she drew in a big breath.

"Good!" Asher smiled, patting her shoulder. "Now let it out and make the next one even deeper. Show that pain who's boss!"

She obeyed, but mid-inhale she choked on air. With a canid yowl, Fawn pressed herself against the Alpha's body. Her hips ground against the pillow, as if it would cushion the force of her pelvis being forced apart.

"Ugh, gravity's helping too much!" Fawn moaned into Asher's shirt. "This pup is about to fall outta me!"

"That's a good thing!" Asher encouraged, draping his arm over her and motioning for his mate to lie down beside them. "You're making progress. The pup will be here before you know it!"

Fawn's hips finally settled as the contraction eased off, but she still felt unable to move. Her pelvis sat wide open, and the hefty weight of the pup was sinking deep inside it -- even without the contraction.

“Augh, fuck,” she moaned, the sound rumbling in her chest. “Fuck . . . the baby feels low. It feels so fucking low!"

"Ash?" Newt asked as he rearranged the pillows to better support the three of them. "Are you still timing?"

Asher caressed Fawn's thigh as she shifted to support her upper body against the mountain of Squishmallows Newt had piled up. Newt reclined on his side beside her, flashing her a bright smile -- his fangs always hung over his lower lip when he smiled.

"No, I think we're just feeling it out now," Asher said. He'd left his phone charging on the nightstand, just in case they needed it. "I think we're 'reaching a checkpoint' as it were."

Newt rolled his eyes. "Gamers."

Fawn snuggled into the pillow mountain, trying in vain to get comfortable. It wasn't as dramatic as what they showed on television, but Fawn knew exactly what the hot rush of fluid was as it soaked the pillow between her legs.

"Umm, hey . . ." She nudged the pillow aside, revealing ribbons of cloudy water running down her inner thighs. "I think it's time to lose the shorts."

Asher pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "And checkpoint reached!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For five hours, no one left that tent. The room grew darker as the evening gave way to the early morning hours of pre-dawn. The boys stayed at either side of the laboring wolf woman, holding her steady in positions that allowed her pup to ease down with gravity.

Between contractions, the three werewolves lay side-by-side in tranquil silence. The sweat on Fawn's brow would dry, her feverish body would cool, but the warmth of two other bodies prevented the chills from returning. That quiet peace would be broken when Fawn vocalized during a new contraction, signaling the boys to sit her up and widen her stance.

Fawn was growing restless, wanting to switch positions several times during every contraction: squatting against the headboard, kneeling against one guy or the other, or falling into a half-squat in a pile of her plush pillows. The longer the night wore on, the more fidgety the laboring mother became.

At around four in the morning, as the trio rested together beneath the fairy lights, Fawn suddenly spoke:

"Is the cradle ready?"

"Hmm?" Asher sat up and readjusted his glasses.

"Is the cradle ready?" Fawn repeated. There was a glint of urgency in her eyes, although her tone was soft and even.

The fold-out mesh bassinet was visible from inside the nest, placed against the opposite wall. The pup's first outfit was already laid out atop the blanket lining the mattress -- a cotton quilt with embroidered rubber duckies that Newt had donated from the stash he was buying for his own pup.

After a quick glance, Asher responded: "Yep, it's ready and waiting."

"Can you grab some extra blankets or something?" Fawn pleaded. She gradually drew her legs up until her heels touched the underside of her thighs. "Just anything that's soft."

Newt sat himself up and gave his mate a knowing look. "Babe? You think this is that 'final nesting' the baby books talked about?"

Asher's eyes widened. "Oh, crap. It might be."

"What?" Fawn asked. She suddenly realized she couldn't remember what either of the boys had just said -- she wasn't fully aware of what was going on around her. It was so, so hard to focus on anything other than the pounding pressure that had come to rest in the curve of her tailbone.

The mated pair gave each other a nod.

"Ash and I have been reading books about pups like crazy this month," Newt explained in a lighthearted tone. "'Final nesting' is just what your brain does right before the pup is ready to come out."

Asher grabbed the corner of the topmost duvet and rolled it towards them until it became a padded cushion. He carefully slid it beneath Fawn and said: "Yep, it's an instinct. Got to make sure the pup has a safe place to land, you know."

Now it was Fawn's turn to go wide-eyed. "Wait . . . wait, is it happening?" she gasped, her head shooting up off the pillows.

"Maybe," Newt said. "You'll know if it is." He placed a pillow over his torso to protect his belly and scooted behind Fawn to support her into a squat.

"And if it isn't, then we'll just wait some more," Asher concluded. "Don't try to bear down if you don't need to."

Fawn nodded, gulping down the dryness in her throat. She had no idea what to expect with the next contraction. If the monstrous pressure she was feeling hadn't triggered her body to push by then . . . oh, God above, what was about to happen to her?

"I don't . . . don't know if I'm ready for this," she muttered.

Newt leaned in and rubbed his cheek against the side of her neck. "You're as ready as you'll ever be," he said. He intertwined his clawed fingers with her own.

Fawn didn't feel the next contraction as pain, only as a familiar tightness wrapping around her womb. All other sensation was snuffed out . . . massacred . . . left bleeding in the streets! . . . by the wicked downward thrust of her pup moving through her effaced cervix. There was nothing holding that baby in her womb any longer, and it was not waiting another minute to leave.

"Oh, my God!" she screamed -- out of fear more so than pain. Her hips jerked back, trying to escape the demonic pressure burning inside.

Newt squeezed her hands -- his claws never marking her skin. "You feel it?"

"Yes!" Fawn cried, her body shuddering under the hellish urge to push.

"Go with it," Asher encouraged, placing his hand on her knee. "Let's meet your pup."

Fawn held her breath and gave a shallow, hesitant first push. She wasn't sure if she was using the correct muscles, but it felt . . . how could she describe it? . . . it felt like she was doing something. A few seconds of strain later, she let up with a sharp yelp. Yes, she'd been doing it right. That slight nudge had sent the pup rushing forward.

"It's moving . . ." was all she had time to say before her body demanded she continue her efforts -- and double them!

Those few millimeters of progress kicked her urge to push into overdrive. Fawn braced her weight against Newt, put chin to chest, and bore down with every ounce of force she could. The crown of the head pressed deeper against her innermost walls with a fiery, thorny tug. The sensation of her baby moving through her after so many passive hours of labor was startling -- yet beyond rewarding.

Had her eyes been open to see, Fawn would have observed Asher's tender smile as he watched primal focus harden her features.

"Just like that, Mama," Asher praised, again stroking her thigh. "Don't hold back, give it your all!"

Sweat trailed down her flushed skin. Unable to hold the push any longer, Fawn emptied her lungs with a harsh grunt.

"It's already hurting me," she growled through closed fangs. Her voice strained as, for just a few horrible seconds, she resisted the urge to push. "Goddamn, this is gonna suck!"

Newt laid his chin on Fawn's shoulder as she sank into another deep push. "Whatever you feel, don't fight it," he offered evenly. "Your body knows what it's doing, Fawn. Listen to what it's telling you to do."

Fawn's ears pressed back against her head as her hips dipped lower to the duvet. She felt a small trickle of fluid drip from her labia, but the flow stopped as soon as she stopped pushing. A groan escaped the back of her throat as the contraction eased off and she was able to relax.

"That was great," Newt praised, unlacing their fingers and letting Fawn have her hands back. "You got the hang of it right off the bat."

Fawn sighed and balled the duvet beneath them in her claws. Her chest rose and fell quickly, and her pulse hammered in her neck. Any sense of physical comfort was gone now, even between contractions. She knew there would be no peace for her until this pup was out and in her arms . . . but God only knew when that would happen. God only knew if that would happen! The pup was barely inside her birth canal and Fawn was already terrified that it was going to get stuck.

"What if . . . what if I can't get it out?" she panted. Her lower back was screaming, so she shifted her hips forward. It didn't help. "What do we do if I can't get it out?!"

"Hey, hey, don't think like that," Newt helped Fawn recline a bit further against him. He steadied her in his arms, his hands gently massaging the curves where her belly met her ribcage. "There's no doubt in our minds that you can do this!"

"And I'm down here if you need a little extra help," Asher said. He carefully took Fawn's leg and draped it over his lap, helping to open her hips now that she was in a more reclined position. "We won't let anything happen to you or your pup, Fawn. That's a promise."

"You're safe here," Newt said in a low, soothing tone. He continued to apply soft pressure to her sides and back, kneading over her sore body as if smoothing out a delicate fabric.

Fawn never doubted for a second that she was in loving hands. She dreaded to think where she would be right now if the pair hadn't opened their home to her. Without their kindness, chances were that she'd be delivering her baby in a motel bathroom or on top of a cot in a homeless shelter. These two had given her the ultimate gift: a warm, safe place to give birth. She owed her pup's life to them.

"I know," Fawn said, snuggling down further into the nest. "I don't want to be anywhere else right now."

Newt bent down and pressed a kiss to Fawn's hairline. "Keep listening to your body. Don't rush what it's trying to do."

Fawn nodded, puffing out a breath as she felt the next contraction roll up from her back to her belly. "Okay . . . let's go."

She took in a slow lungful of air, waited for the contraction to build in strength, and pushed.

Her loosened joints spread easily for the pup's skull as it squeezed its way down her passage. It became an endless pattern: Fawn would push, the head would squeeze down, and her pelvic bones would spread over its shape as it passed beneath them. She could feel the rhythm of the changes.

Push. Squeeze. Spread.

Rest.

Push. Squeeze. Spread. Spread.

Rest.

Push. Squeeze. Spread. Spread. Spre-OW!

OW! OW! Oh, fuck! Now it was so too big! Her hips were filled to the maximum, her canal stretched wide around a huge pair of shoulders as they slipped from her womb. She could feel her labia bulging from between her legs -- and oh, God, they ached! There was nothing but a layer of her skin holding the pup in, and it felt like a bubble of gum about to burst!

But she couldn't stop pushing. Not now, not when everything was raw and stretched and open and hurting so goddamn bad! Fawn curled her toes into the mattress and wailed as she threw herself harder into pushing. Her voice grew louder as she felt the inflamed skin between her legs starting to open.

"Good job, Mama! Here it comes!" Asher cried, his voice raised to be heard over Fawn's roar of effort.

Asher had his eyes glued to the pale, wet sac pressing out of Fawn each time her body strained. He'd read in their books that it was common for werewolf pups to be born with their membranes wrapped around them. That was fine, he just had to be prepared to remove it.

A tiny spurt of fluid leaked out from around the sac as the head began to stretch the skin of the perineum. The pup's size seemed to be keeping most of its sac unruptured, the fluid too pressurized to leave the birth canal. Asher furrowed his brow but said nothing.

Of course, Newt took notice of his mate's unease. He swallowed the unease in his chest, and scented Fawn's hair with his cheek again in the hopes it would distract her.

"Ash sees the head," he crooned. "Keep going, you're pushing like a pro!"

With renewed vigor, Fawn gave into her body's needs. Asher waited until a few centimeters of the solid white membrane stretched open Fawn's lips, then he placed his index finger against the bulging sac to gauge how much fluid was inside. He felt the semi-solid squish of the pup's head just beneath the film, but his finger pad felt the swish of water when he pressed down. That wasn't a very good sign, but Asher still felt confident that he could handle it.

"I'm going to help you out a little, okay?" Asher told Fawn, cupping his hand over the crowning pup. "Focus on pushing, and I'll help you open up. I'll go slow."

Newt once again sensed Asher's unease and made it his mission to protect Fawn from sensing it, too. "Pup's almost out, Fawn," he said as he gave her shoulders a brief hug. "It'll be out quicker with Ash helping you. Just take a deep breath and let yourself stretch."

"I'm trying," Fawn whimpered. "I'm trying."

As Fawn bore down against the pup, Asher ran his fingers against the sides of her lips. He nudged her skin open bit by bit around the sac, watching as it stretched from a small oval to a wide circle over the course of several minutes. Asher cringed as he saw the skin of her labia discolor from a raw red to an almost beet purple with the width of the head.

Fawn, meanwhile, had fallen completely taciturn. Aside from wolfish growls and whimpers, she made no efforts to express her pain verbally. Her focus had shifted solely to bearing through the ordeal, working with her body to bring it to a swift end.

"Keep going, we're almost there!" Asher cheered. He had his hands positioned at the apex of her inner thighs, supporting the tight skin as Fawn pushed the head to its widest point.

Fawn shuddered and let her head fall back on Newt's chest. Her mind was a mess of black static as the pup's shoulders ground against her pubic bone. She arched her spine as the pup ceased to move for one heart-stopping moment. Then, in a sudden lurch, the sac-covered head popped free into Asher's waiting hands.

"Awesome! Awesome, Fawn!" Newt cheered, peering over her shoulder as much as he could. He could see the white membrane resting in his mate's palm. "Babe, you got it?"

Asher nodded. "I've got it, don't worry."

Without drawing attention to it, Asher took the claw of his thumb and carefully -- oh-so-carefully -- punctured the membrane at the base of where he felt the pup's neck should be. A quiet sploosh filled the nesting tent as amniotic fluid rushed over Asher's hands. He hooked his claw inside the tear and slowly peeled the sac over the pup's head.

There wasn't much hair on the pup's head -- unusual, though not uncommon -- but that wasn't what Asher was looking for. He craned his neck at a painful angle until he could catch a glimpse of the pup's face. When he saw it, he paled. The features were predictably swollen, but the puffy lips were hanging open and dripping a thick yellowish mucus. Asher thanked the stars above that he and his partner had read up about whelping -- for he was able to recognize the tell-tale symptom of waterlogged lungs.

The mates locked eyes with each other and nothing else needed to be said or done. They both understood.

"This is it, love," Newt said, leaning in to help Fawn hold her legs apart. "This next contraction is going to be the one."

Fawn's jaw gaped like a suffocating fish, but finally her voice obeyed her command: "Is my baby okay?"

Oh, hell. She must've smelled the pheromones of their stress. Newt had been hoping she wouldn't understood what the scent of fear was, yet.

Newt smiled at her and brushed her sweat-plastered hair away from her eyes. "They're fine, they just need some extra help."

"When you push, I'll give them a little tug," Asher said. "It's going to hurt, but it'll be over before you know it."

Fawn squeezed her eyes shut. "Can't hurt any worse than this," she mumbled. "Just do it."

The boys were expecting the horrific scream Fawn released when Asher began guiding out the first shoulder, but it still made their sensitive ears ring.

"You're so strong, Fawn!" Newt said into her ear. He felt her legs trying to close against the pain, and he had to pause to pull them back apart. "I know it hurts, but you're handling it so well! We're so proud of you!"

Asher kept his focus locked on delivering the pup as fast and as safe as possible. One hand supported the pup's body while the other pulled down on the emerging shoulder.

"Come on, little guy," Asher muttered under his breath. "Come on, you can do it."

With an audible pop of Fawn's hip joints -- and another yowl from the wolf woman herself -- the pup's first shoulder slipped free. Asher wasted zero time in hooking his thumb under the tiny arm and continuing his steady, gentle tug.

A rather disgusting squelch accompanied the pup as it slid onto the duvet. The remains of the membrane bunched around its feet as Asher scooped it into his hands. The body was grey and limp, and all three heartbeats stalled.

"What's wrong?!" Fawn cried. "What's wrong with it?!" She reached for her baby on instinct, but Newt held her back.

"It's okay!" he said, adjusting himself to block her veiw of Asher and the baby. "It's okay, I swear! Asher's taking care of it."

Newt stroked her sweaty face with the back of his hand, doing anything he could think of to soothe her. It didn't stop the tears from flooding the exhausted mother's eyes.

Behind his mate's back, Asher brought the pup's face to his lips. His mouth easily covered the nose and mouth of the newborn, and he gently sucked the sour-tasting fluid out of its airway. Asher spit the gunk into his sleeve and repeated the action, rubbing his thumb against the baby's chest as he did.

It was a process that lasted less than twenty seconds, but to all three werewolves it felt like eternity. But eternity ended when the pup sucked in a deep, squeaking breath. The sound of its first cry was shrill, but to the trio it sounded like singing.

Asher couldn't help but start crying as the little body he'd resurrected wiggled to life in his hands. "Here he is!" he said, voice wavering with joyful tears.

Newt sat back immediately, allowing Fawn to see the baby alive and well in Asher's arms.

"Here's our boy!" Asher announced, laying the crying baby over his mother's heart.

Through the haze of her tears, Fawn looked over every detail of her little boy. She saw the layer of damp fuzz covering his skin, the points on his pink, folded-over ears, and the coating of protective skin over his miniscule claws. She thanked whatever power was out there for that last detail, because such tiny needles would've been horrible to feel coming out.

"Sweetheart," she told the baby, wrapping her arms around him, "don't make a habit outta scaring me like that."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Is he already nursing again?" Newt asked as he placed the glass of water on the nightstand.

"He eats like a horse," Fawn chuckled, adjusting the nursing pillow under her baby. Jacob was the name she had settled on.

The sun was coming up now, filling her bedroom with a soft white light. Asher was on the floor, disassembling the nesting tent. It would be taken out again in a few months for Newt to use, but the Alpha was determined to Tetris the pieces correctly into their box.

Jacob was an aggressive nurser. Three hours old and this was his third time demanding his mother's milk. Newt and Asher insisted such an appetite was normal for a larger werewolf pup, but Fawn wasn't too thrilled to learn she was going to get even less sleep than she anticipated with a new baby.

Fawn quickly drained the glass of water. She wasn't sure if she would ever feel not-thirsty again. "So, Newt," she said, "I didn't scare you into wanting a C-section, did I?"

"Nah, not at all." Newt laid down on the bed beside Fawn, propping himself against the Squishmallow pile. "If you could get him out, I'm pretty sure I'll be okay."

Newt pet the thin strands of hair on Jacob's head. The newborn swiped a clumsy, mitten-covered fist over his head with a teeny-tiny growl. All three adults stopped and stared.

"Was that him?!" Asher asked from the floor.

"Yeah . . ." Newt said, withdrawing his hand. "He's very protective of his food."

Asher almost fell over laughing. "That's Alpha behavior if I've ever seen it!"

"How do you guys even determine that stuff?" Fawn asked. "Is it a sex thing?"

"Eh, a bit," Newt shrugged, "but it's also a personality thing." He tickled the folded tip of Jacob's soft ear, and got the same response as before.

"Ow!" Fawn jerked as her son bit down on her breast. "Stop annoying him, or I'm biting you, too!"

"Sorry," Newt chuckled.

"I can't thank you boys enough for this," Fawn said. "This werewolf shit is all sorts of weird for me, and . . . now I know for certain that Jacob wouldn't have been alright if you weren't with me."

"That's what packs do," Asher said, re-folding a segment of nylon tarp. "We look out for each other."

"Do we even . . . " Fawn stopped herself mid-sentence and looked away.

Newt grinned and touched his forehead to Fawn's temple. "I don't know. What do you think?"

Fawn grinned in return and rubbed her cheek against his hair, leaving her scent on his skin.

#fawn drabbles #mittysins #killer-orca-cosplay #Fawn/Newt/Asher #fpreg labor and birth #labor kink #birth kink #borrowed ocs #fpreg

[ghouljams]

Hey ghoul! 💗 I hope your doing well.

I just wanted to ask if you have any headcanons about the Fae boys houses in the Fae wild. And how they travel to and back from them. Are their human homes just fronts/gates to there actual homes in the Fae world? What happens when they bring guests over? Is witch going to visit Price's house?

(your recent regency price fic has me feeling all types of ways. Thank you for keeping us feed throughout the holidays I love you!!)

I have so many headcanons on the boys houses... I have... I have so many... Lemme run through them.

Soap's house we've been to once before when Love stabbed Ghost. Much like Witch's house it's a traditional sort of cottage surrounded by other buildings. However unlike the sunshine and open air the Witch's house is bathed in, I imagine Soap's house is at the end of a narrow alley. The sort of alley you wander down when you're trying to find shelter from the rain, the sort of alley you'd never be able to find on a map, and yet here it is. You wander down it, your eyes searching the blank stone of the businesses on either side, the length of them seemingly stretching beyond the actual size of the buildings. They're only two or three floors tall but they seem to tower over you. Then just at the end of the alley is a little Tudor cottage, with flowers in the window boxes and smoke coming out of its chimney.

Inside it is rustic, a narrow stairway leads up to the gabled bedroom, and the living room is full of plush furniture, old nick-nacks, framed maps and flags, a few rough sketches are tacked to the wall, all in different styles and signed by different hands. The whole place feels stuffed full and well lived in. The threshold is strong, ancient, a house still lived in by the man that built it. The mid day sun always seems to be shining in through the windows, warming the place to that perfect nap temperature. I imagine a lot of wood elements and heritage furniture, less art than you'd think, and oddly the art that he does have is simple. From artists long long dead, and remembered only by Soap. Back when a single sketch could fill him for weeks. Old loves, before he grew bitter from their loss.

Gaz's house is the newest of the bunch. He has a flat in the city, something sleek and modern that makes Price's skin crawl. Or at least, it looks modern at first glance. The wood floors don't ring any alarm bells, though the grain is knotted and shifting, the slats seeming grow and spiral out from the center of the flat like rings from a tree. The windows certainly don't give anything away, they're normal glass, taking up the walls of the room and overlooking the city, never mind the greenery taking over his balcony and creeping up the side of the building. His walls, surely those are modern. They're just normal walls, painted with a deep green and strangely textured, like moss when you press your fingers to it, yet when you try to look closer it feels like normal wallpaper.

The kitchen then, that's modern. Sleek chrome appliances and marble countertops, a fridge stocked with bleeding meat and vegetables fresher than you could ever find at the store. Ivy winds its way around the top of the cabinets, spilling over the edge. You can't find the plant it comes from, but surely there must be a pot up there. His furniture is all wood, tasteful, classically designed with a modern twist. The pedestal his table rests on looks like the trunk of a tree, its branched spreading out to hold up the round glass top, its roots twisting into the floor. His bed seems to be growing out of the floor, the wood blooming up and cradling the pillowy mattress. His couches and chairs are a rich black leather. It all speaks to quiet luxury, and something pretending to be modern. A cuckoo in the nest, playing at being human.

Ghost's house feels like a memory. A wood cabin, grey stone lining the bottom of it, and snow weighing heavy on its gabled roof. Light flickers warmly in the windows, bare trees surround it, holding it close with loving branches dragged low by snow. There are footsteps in the snowy ground leading to the door, and smoke coming from the stone chimney. It's hazy, a place you're not meant to see from the outside, and yet it reminds you of a place you've never been before, a home you've only seen in pictures. When you open the front door the space is dark, cold, uninhabited for years, death drags its hands along the scarred floors, the scorches of flame have left their licks along the walls. It's not a place you want to stay, certainly nowhere like the warm light you'd seen outside would have prepared you for.

There are only four keys that open Ghost's door, closely guarded, heavy, and iron. Ghost, though, has no need for a key. It's his house, he can come and go as he pleases. In fact he doesn't even need to use the front door, any door will do. As long as he wills it Ghost only needs to twist the handle and pull, he'll open straight into his house. Ghost is a master at warping the world to suit his whims, practiced and grown from his need to control it. When he opens the door for you it's a completely different cabin. There's a fire burning in the fireplace, the lights flicker as shadows chase through them, the furniture is old and seems to have been reupholstered several times, but it's soft and you sink into the couch when you sit on it. Bookshelves line the walls, full of well worn spines and little trinkets. There's a little narrow staircase that takes you up to a bedroom. The bed, overflowing with quilts and pillows, is pressed close to the chimney for added warmth. The wood floors are covered in rugs, intricate and plush, and the whole place smells of smoke and pine.

You could spend weeks here, and never notice any time had passed. The world outside the windows is cold and frosty, perfect for curling up in bed. Ghost is a wonderful host. Why don't you stay a while? Sleep. Let him take your worries. What were you doing before this?

Oh right.

Price's home is my favorite. A giant oak in the middle of the forest, sturdy and fae. He tells you, proudly, that he grew it himself from an acorn. Inside the walls are round, the floors a neatly polished wood that you can count the rings of. Soft lamps dangle from the tall ceiling, with intricately soldered together glass, their light glows and dims with a wave of Price's hand. His kitchen curves along the wall, wooden of course, and yet he seems to have everything he could need. There's a large couch and television in the center of the room, an ashtray on the coffee table. Along one wall is a staircase leading to an upper floor.

When you follow it up you find a bedroom, you think it's a bedroom. There are window curving along the wall, bringing a soft twilight glow into the room, and casting shadows over the deep crater that sits back nearer the wall opposite the stairs. You go over to inspect it and find it full of pillows, blankets, a round pad you would almost call a mattress, there are steps leading up out of the nest-like bed. It looks perfectly comfortable, if a little hard to get out of. There are candles and books perched along the edge within easy reach. The stairs continue up, and under them are carved drawers, and doors, nooks and crannies for storage.

You go up another level to find the bathroom. Steamy and magical, you can't find piping for any of the taps but when you twist them on the water is perfectly warm. A large tub, an open shower, there's a small heart carved out of the steam on the mirror. You follow the stair up and out when you get too warm, and find yourself outside among the tree branches. You enjoy the crisp winter air just long enough to crave the house's warmth again. When you make your way back to the front door, Price twists the little dial next to the door and opens it on a different season.

You're booted into fall.

König's house is less of a house, and more of a den. The mouth of a cave greets you, the inside dark and cavernous. You hesitate outside until the monster slinks out to ask what you're doing. The trees of the forest bend down to listen to you explain that you're on a home tour. He shrugs and tells you to watch your head coming in as he ducks back inside. Despite the open entrance when you look back there's a warm wooden wall, and a large door with a shiny brass handle where the mouth of the cave should be. The door is curved along the top, mirroring the curve of the ceiling, impossibly tall as König rolls his shoulders back to stand at his full height. The inside of the cave is cozy, the stone walls covered in moss and furs, little glowing flowers and mushrooms shed a soft light over the room.

There are soft thick rugs along the floor, and pillows strewn about. There's no true furniture that you can see, everything is low to the ground but clearly made to comfortably accommodate König's size. There's a fire burning in a pit in the middle of the cave, the smoke filtering neatly out through a hole at the top of the ceiling. The whole room is warmed by it, the rock absorbing the heat so as not to chill your feet as you walk to inspect the a sort of room/nook carved into one of the walls. It's larger inside than the opening would suggest. A smaller cave carved into the bigger one, filled with furs and pillows, trinkets hang from the ceiling, and soft dancing fireflies float about. A sort of nest you could climb into and never climb out of.

You leave before König starts showing you the various bones and skulls he's collected.

Keegan's home is a clearing in the forest. The trees parted for the moon, the grass soft under your feet. Empty save for the spare wild flowers that push through the grass. He's not even there to show you around, he's at his angel's home with his family.

#ghoul speaks #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #keegan p russ #1fae1 #fae!ghost #fae!soap #fae!price #fae!gaz #fae!könig #fae!keegan

[trulybetty]

oct x 11 - pumpkin spice

Prompt: pumpkin spice Pairing: marcus pike x f!Reader Word Count: 3,366 Warnings: this is somewhat au? I don't know how to describe it - but honestly, outside the mentions of food, just introductions to our characters 💕 Summary: maplewood, a small town nestled in northern bc where people flock to see the changing blossom trees and celebrate the fall season. after losing your job you find yourself a part of the community which includes the towns baker who left a less than stellar impression on you. AO3: Linked

A/N: this is a departure for me, this is going to be all sickly sweet and sticky sweetness - made a teeny tiny dash of angst? This will be told in three parts through the month, no promise on when the next part will be posted - but keep an eye out. Please let me know what you think, I'd love to hear it!

x. masterlist

Something Sweet, This Way Comes Part I | Pumpkin Spice

Maplewood was a small town nestled deep in the heart of British Columbia Canada, the crisp autumn air brought a sense of enchantment. The maple leaves painted the streets with vibrant shades of red and orange, and the town buzzed with anticipation for Halloween.

At the hub of it all was Maple Delights, a mainstay of the small town that had changed owners only three years ago. Before that Marcus Pike had left the FBI’s art division on the heels of lost love and disillusions for the career he once loved. Everyone always assumed he was a dab hand with creative pursuits when he would tell them he worked in the bureaus art department. And while he had studied art at college, it had been in art history. Truth was he couldn’t paint anything worth posting further than the front of the fridge, but baking on the other hand, was a hidden talent he’d always exceeded in.

So when a late night social media scroll after handing in his notice brought him to an article on the small town of Maplewood being a hidden gem in the Northern Canadian mountains. Over the following days he’d drifted back to the article several times before a Google search brought him to the small town’s website.

Then it wasn’t too much of a stretch to click on the link for the modest page of properties both for sale and rent, curiosity baiting him, only to find the town’s historic bakery up for sale.

Dashing any thoughts out of his head he’d closed his laptop with a shake of his head, it was an absurd idea. He was an early retiree of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, he had no business entertaining the idea of purchasing a bakery, let alone one in seemingly the middle of nowhere Canada.

But between the calls from friends and family checking in on him with the news of his departure from the job he once dearly loved and the end of the whirlwind romance that he’d thought was the one, he found himself late each night scrolling mindlessly, glass of wine in one hand, phone in the other, back looking at the town of Maplewood.

He did have a sizable nest egg, he owned his apartment which was now in what was considered a trendy part of town and worth a lot more than when he first purchased it.

He wasn’t entirely sure what possessed him two nights later to email the town's realtor, but within the month he was the proud owner of Maple Delights and all its contents and was packing up the contents of his modest apartment and heading north.

The previous owner had passed, with adult grandchildren who lived far away in various places across the country, and who had no interest in a historic bakery in the middle of nowhere; it had been left with no choice to go up for sale by the estate.

It had taken some modernization, not so easy a feat in the far north of BC where the local hardware store was a mom and pops situation and the nearest Home Depot was three hours away, but Marcus had made it work with help from a local contractor who’d enjoyed the challenge.

The facade had undergone a drastic change too, much to the chagrin of some locals. But when it was revealed to be a homage to its original exterior, when it was first opened, there had been actual tears at the results.

The front of the store was made up of a large window and wooden framing. In cursive the bakeries name was painted across the glass. At the front were planters at the wooden windowsill, filled with roses of various shades of pinks and whites. The climbing ivy had been stripped away to allow the brick underneath to stand out, making the white frames pop all the more.

It truly was a delight to see.

Surprisingly it didn’t take long after that for Marcus to win over the town. With his natural ability for baking and his charm, he won over any naysayers to the outsider in their town quite quickly and was soon a beloved member of the community.

Your journey to Maplewood however, was nearly not as charming.

It was a gloomy Tuesday morning when you received the email that would change the course of your life. As you sipped your coffee and stared at the screen, disbelief washed over you. The subject line was blunt and to the point: ‘Termination of Employment.’

You opened the email and read the cold, corporate language that informed you of the company's decision to downsize. Your position had been eliminated, effective immediately. There was no room for negotiation, no farewell party, just a stark message informing you that your services were no longer required.

You had worked at the job for who knows how long, because it felt like forever.

In the days that followed, you wrestled with the uncertainty of your future. You tried reaching out to your network, searching for new job opportunities in Toronto, but the job market was tough, and the competition was fierce. The bills kept piling up, and you felt the weight of financial insecurity pressing down on you.

It was one of those nights where you were texting with your friend Libby, a long time resident of Maplewood after she gave up the rat race to open a bookstore in the small town years ago. That she extended an offer that was too sweet to refuse. End your rental agreement and come up north and spend some time in the great outdoors and figure out what you want to do next.

With no other choices coming your way, you did just that.

That was three months ago.

As the days passed, you found yourself slowly adjusting to the laid-back lifestyle of Maplewood. Gone were the stresses of city life and the constant pressure to perform at your job. Instead, you spent your mornings sipping coffee in Libby's apartment above the bookstore and spent the rest of your day either helping out in the store or taking a stroll around town to take in all the unique sights that Maplewood had to offer.

Black Cat Books was wall to ceiling bookshelves and every manageable space was filled with books. It was a labyrinth, but Libby could stride through it like she was born into its midst. But ask Libby where any particular title resided? You'd find that she knew exactly how many steps it took to get there.  

Libby placed another book on the shelf behind her, “He’s really not all that bad.”

You sneered, “I don’t know why this whole town is obsessed with him.”

“Says the woman who is watching him from across the street and has been for the last hour.” Libby remarked, punctuated by a disbelieving look over the top of her glasses.

“I can’t help if the bakery is straight across the street,” she raised an equally disbelieving eyebrow at you, she didn't believe a word you were saying “and it’s his bakery, of course he’d be there.” you finished, crossing your arms across your chest refusing to make eye contact.

“Sure,” she dragged out her response, “whatever you say.”

You had been in Maplewood for a week when you'd run into Marcus, quite literally run into him. Crossing the main square, you may not have been paying attention, focusing on refreshing your email for leads on work as he had been stepping up onto the sidewalk, his arms full of bakery boxes obscuring his view.

“Watch where you're going much?!” You'd exclaimed, hands on your hips and glaring at him.

He'd looked up from the ground, his hands filled with ruined boxes, eyes narrowed. “Me? How could you miss me?”

“Well if you had been watching where you were going.” You countered.

He was about to launch into another tirade when he glanced at his watch. Stifling a curse he ran a hand through his hair before speaking, his voice low and gruff. “I haven't got time for this.”

With that he quickly gathered the last of the boxes and stomped off in the direction of the bakery. Your first encounter with the town's beloved baker had left nothing but a sour taste in your mouth.

Since then, you'd avoided any and all interactions with the man and fought rolling your eyes when people would speak so highly of the American who had made Maplewood his home. After all, he was the one responsible for bringing more business to Maplewood through word-of-mouth of his creations.

“Look,” Libby pointed at the sandwich board propped outside the shop, “today’s special is pumpkin spice scones, how about you go get us some and a couple of coffees?” she suggested as she pulled some money from her purse she kept under the counter.

You rolled your eyes but still took the money, guy was questionable, but his scones were to die for. Not that you would admit it to anyone.

A quick look both ways you dashed across the street. It was the start of October, a busy month for the town. Tourists would flock in to see the changing colours of the cherry blossom trees that lined both sides of the main street that led up to the town's main square outside city hall.

The weather was getting colder, and even though it was literally steps from Black Cat Books, you'd wished you'd grabbed your toque and scarf. But before you could think more about it you were outside the bakery.

The window took up most of the front of the store, vintage lettering spelling out the bakery's name Maple Delights painted across the pane. The roses that usually filled the planter boxes outside were filled with an abundance of pumpkins of various colours and sizes. Halloween decorations filled the spaces between cake stands and trays of seasonal goods punctuated by decadent cakes decorated with tiny ghosts and ghouls.

The shop bell rang as you opened the door, the bakery was cozy and inviting with its high ceilings and hardwood floors. The smell of freshly baked bread and sugar, mingled with the spiciness of cinnamon and pumpkin spice – classic scents of fall that permeated the air making your mouth water.

A bright eyed Sarah, with a book open in front of her behind the counter called out your name, “Hey there! What can I get for you today?”

You smiled and made your way to the counter eyeing the vintage blackboard that took up most of the wall behind it. The chalk sketch confirmed that today's special was pumpkin scones, “I'll take two pumpkin spice scones and two lattes, extra hot please.”

Sarah nodded as she began preparing the order. She had been working at the bakery after school and the weekends since she turned sixteen at the start of the summer. You knew this because she got paid every Friday and would dart straight across to Black Cat Books to pick a new book bringing with her treats from the bakery.

“You should try the apple cider doughnuts!” she exclaimed as she boxed up two large scones.

“That so?” You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her recommendation.

“Uh huh,” Sarah replied with a grin, “Marcus dipped them in a cinnamon maple glaze this time,” she added with a little groan of appreciation, “they're so good, and there's only just a few left.” Her eyes sparkled mischievously as if she were tempting you.

You couldn't help but smile at her infectious enthusiasm. “Well, with that kind of endorsement, why not. Throw a couple in too.”

As you waited for your order and made small talk with Sarah, you took a moment to look around the store. It was late afternoon, and the warm, soft glow of the autumn sun streamed through the window, casting a gentle light on the displays. The shelves, while not as full as they might be in the morning, still held an array of intricate desserts. More decorations of fake cobwebs, pumpkins, and ghosts adorned the shelves and countertops, adding to the bakery's seasonal charm.

In the background, the back of the bakery was open to the kitchen out back. The stainless steel counters gleamed in the soft light, and the usual cacophony of mixers that lined the back wall was silent for the moment. It was a rare sight, given the bakery's reputation for bustling activity, especially in the weeks leading up to Halloween.

Just then, a door swung open at the back, and Marcus emerged, his presence commanding attention. He was dressed in a deep orange flannel shirt, which seemed to accentuate the rich colors of the fall season. His tousled curled hair always gave the impression that he had just woken up from a nap, yet it added an effortlessly charming quality to his appearance. His patchy facial hair, seemingly ever-present, only added to his rugged charm.

You couldn't help but curse silently under your breath. Despite having no time for the man, there was no denying he was just as attractive as the sweet treats he created. It seemed as though every time you crossed paths, he had a knack for appearing more alluring.

“Hey Sarah,” he greeted the teen, “I can finish this up for you, I don't want you to miss the committee meeting for the trick or treat parade.” he said, referencing the penultimate celebration of the town's October celebrations.

Sarah's face lit up as she started to untie her apron, “Thanks, Marcus. You're a lifesaver.”

As Marcus took over your order, Sarah excused herself, heading towards the exit. Her parting words were aimed at both you and Marcus. “See you later!”

With Sarah's departure, an awkward silence settled between you and Marcus. The air seemed to crackle with the unspoken tension that had been building for weeks.

“Looks like you're stuck with me for a while,” Marcus remarked, breaking the silence with a wry smile. His tone was light, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, an undercurrent of amusement at the situation.

You nodded in reluctant agreement, realizing that there was no escape from this moment. “Seems that way,” you replied.

Marcus busied himself with finishing up your order, his hands deftly manoeuvring around cups and saucers. He poured the lattes into to-go cups before adding the last dollop of whipped cream to a pumpkin spice latte. The warm, spicy scent filled the air, mixing with the sweet aroma of freshly baked goods.

As he reached out to pass you the tray of drinks and the bag filled with baked treats, your hands brushed against each other. Time seemed to slow, the atmosphere tingling with a spark that neither of you had felt before. It was a fleeting touch, but it was enough to send a shiver down your spine, making you suddenly aware of the space between you.

Marcus cleared his throat. “I, uh, put a cranberry muffin in there. For Libby. I know they're her favourite.”

You blinked, a little thrown off by the unexpected kindness. “That's very thoughtful of you.” You reached for your purse, ready to pay for the order, “How much is it?” you asked, but Marcus waved you off.

Marcus shook his head, grinning slightly. “It's on the house. Consider it a thank-you to Libby for watching the store the other week.”

“Thank you,” you finally said, struggling to find the right words. “That's... that's very kind of you.”

Marcus shrugged, his gaze meeting yours for just a second longer than necessary. “It's what neighbours do, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I suppose it is.”

The bell above the door jingled, breaking the moment as more customers entered the bakery, kids trailing behind their parents, all excited for Halloween goodies. You picked up the tray and bag, suddenly aware that you had to leave, but not quite ready to break the newfound connection.

“I'll see you around?” Marcus asked, with maybe a note of hopeful uncertainty in his voice, you weren’t sure.

You smiled despite yourself, “Maybe,” you replied as you raised your now full hands in an attempt at a wave.

Marcus was about to answer when the bakery's new patrons diverted his attention and you took the opportunity to leave, your head suddenly full of conflicting feelings for the man.

Exiting out onto the street, you couldn't help but inhale deeply, letting the crisp, early October air fill your lungs in hope it would clear your head. The town's signature cherry blossom trees that lined each side of the street had traded their springtime pinks for shades of orange and yellow, a change of costume in tune with the season.

Libby looked up from the book she was reading when you stepped back into the store, “You were longer than I expected.”

You felt an unexpected heat spread up your chest to your cheeks, “Sarah was working,” you quickly threw out, “she was telling me about the book she got last week.”

Libby accepted the coffees and paper bag so you could shrug off your coat, “Ooo, cranberry muffin! My favourite!”

“Yeah, Marcus threw it in there for you.”

“So you spoke to Marcus?” she asked, an eyebrow raised in curiosity, an unmissable smirk on her face.

You narrowed your eyes in response, “Briefly.”

Libby took a bite of her scone, the noises she made boarded on the line of scandalous, “God, this is good.”

“Should I leave you and your scone alone?”

Libby grinned, crumbs of scone still clinging to the corners of her mouth. “If you leave me now, I'll name my first-born after this scone. It'll have a weird life, but at least it'll be delicious.”

You chuckled at her melodrama as you took your coffee out of its tray.

Libby grinned, “I swear to god, if I was remotely interested in men I'd be climbing him like a tree. Heck, I might just do it for the baked goods.”

You rolled your eyes, “Easy there tiger.”

“I really don't know how he's single, three years in this town and it's not like the women haven't been throwing themselves at him.”

“Well, maybe he is really too good to be true.” You countered, taking up your apparently one woman stance of your dislike of the man again as you took a sip of your coffee - biting your lip at your own groan at how a simple latte could taste so good.

Libby chuckled, “Or maybe you're too stubborn to see what's right in front of you.”

You sighed, unwilling to admit, even to Libby, that your stance on Marcus might be softening just a touch. “Let's agree to disagree, shall we?”

“Fine, fine,” Libby conceded, taking another heavenly bite of her scone. “But one day you'll see. Good things, and good people, might just come in unexpected packages.”

Your phone buzzed with a notification about a new job posting in Toronto. You glanced at it, suddenly feeling less of that earlier urgency to return to the hustle and bustle of city life. The idea of stepping back into the rat race seemed so detached from where you were now—surrounded by the rustic charm of Maplewood and its genuine, warm-hearted inhabitants.

You took another sip of your latte and stole one last look through the bookstore's window, back towards the bakery. Marcus was crouching down to hand a sugar cookie shaped like a pumpkin to one of the small kids in the bakery. The child's face lit up with joy, a mirror of the light that seemed to emanate from Marcus himself.

Maybe Libby had a point. Maybe good things did come in unexpected packages.

You put your phone down, screen facing the table, and looked back at Libby, who was now back engrossed in her book. But your thoughts weren't on job postings or the life you had in Toronto. They were here, on this little corner of Maplewood.

For the first time, in a long time, you weren’t thinking of ways to run back to your old life.

#october x 500 #autumnal offerings #something sweet this way comes #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader

[oftenwantedafton]

Moody and Gray - William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 1

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - no sexual content in this chapter

Also available on AO3

You really hate your job as a waitress at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria.

The pay is lousy, your income largely reliant on tips from adult customers that are rude, their children ruder still. Between the noise of the arcade and the music blasting in the background you end up going home with a headache more often than not. You could happily go without so much as seeing a slice of pizza for the rest of your life.

So why don’t you quit?

Well the answer to that is up one flight of steel stairs to an office that overlooks the entire restaurant. His restaurant: the owner, William Afton.

See, there’s something about him that you just can’t shake free from your mind. Sure, you’ve always had a bit of a thing for older guys, and he’s got a good decade and a half on you easily. But it’s more than that. Messy dark hair and high cheekbones, aquiline nose and piercing pale gray eyes. Not classically handsome in the sense of the word, but compelling all the same. Like a vampire or…yes. That was exactly what he reminded you most of. A real life modern day version of Dracula.

The funny thing about your boss is, he doesn’t seem to like the job much either. He distances himself from the clientele as much as possible. You know he’s married and he has kids, but damned if you’ve ever seen them. Hell, he doesn’t even bother wearing a wedding ring. He spends most of his time either fiddling with the animatronics in one of the back rooms, or brooding in his office, tucked away in that crow’s nest kind of space lined with windows, the blinds sometimes closed, and what does he even do in there when they are?

On this particular shitty work day you’ve just had some brat accidentally/on purpose dump an entire glass of fruit punch on your work shirt. Of course the company shirts are white. You ask one of your coworkers where you can get another one, and wouldn’t you know it, they’re fresh out in the employee locker area, the most recent new hire getting the last one, apparently. As if anyone ever even sees the kitchen staff.

“Maybe ask Afton,” the woman suggests, gathering a stack of dirty dishes to return to the kitchen.

Ask Afton. Well sure, you could do that. No big deal. You’ve never spoken to him personally. It was beneath him to hire waitstaff, apparently. But yes. You can.

You climb the steel steps and knock on the door, glancing out across the dining room, a kaleidoscope of colors rioting below. It really was a spectacular view, even if you didn’t care much for the scenery.

You can hear a muffled voice inside and try the door handle, finding it unlocked.

The owner is seated at his desk, phone in hand. Great, you were interrupting him.

He beckons for you to come inside, continuing his conversation as you shut the door and step forward.

“Yes, we offer a good benefits package. We don’t have on site childcare yet, but that is something we’re looking to add in the future for both staff and visitors.”

Good benefits your ass. Trying to get a vacation was like pulling teeth. And God help you if you got sick and needed some time off. It had been made clear during orientation you were expected to come to work, plain and simple. As if serving pizza and ice cream to children was as essential as, say, being a healthcare worker. It was beyond absurd.

Your attention wavers, and you step to the row of windows. The stage curtains part. It’s time for another round of songs performed by the animatronics. The drink that had soaked your shirt front was cold and it’s unpleasantly plastered to your skin. You shiver and shuffle your feet, hoping the phone call will end soon.

“Great, we look forward to seeing you soon.” At last. You turn and see your boss rising to his feet. He’s incredibly tall, lanky. The man is all lines and angles.

“Can I help you with something?”

God, that British accent. It’s another one of your weaknesses. Not the cockney type, but this smooth mellow tone that strokes silkily along your skin. You blink and recover. “Yes, sorry to bother you. Someone spilled something on my shirt and we’re out of them downstairs. Maybe you have a spare here?”

His eyes flicker down to your chest, where a good deal of the red liquid has seeped in, lingering perhaps a bit longer than was warranted. “I see. Well, let’s have a look, shall we?”

It’s cold in his office, you realize then. Not just because of your damp clothing, but there’s actual air conditioning running. It’s the middle of winter. You wonder how he stands it.

William rummages through a cardboard box set in the back of the office and withdraws a folded shirt. “What size?”

In truth, you’d never liked the fit of yours, choosing a size down.

“Hmm. Well, this will have to do.” Two sizes down. You frown. “You can manage for the rest of the shift with that, surely. I have an order for more coming in soon.” He shuts the box swiftly and you wonder for a moment if he isn’t lying about the sizes available.

But to what end?

“Ok, well thanks, I appreciate it.” You turn as if to leave.

“Wait a moment.”

He joins you at the window and presses a switch. The blinds slide closed.

Huh. Fancy, you think, your brain not catching up to what is happening.

“I imagine you’re eager to be out of that shirt. I’m sure it’s unpleasant. I’ll of course be a gentleman and turn around.”

“Oh, no, I can change in the restroom, it’s fine.”

“No, I really must insist. It wouldn’t do for our customers to see staff looking so…unkempt. Against company policy and all that.” He grins, the teeth flashing at you looking incredibly sharp. God, he really did look like a vampire. He turns around as promised, though. The back of his purple vest has a thin gold buckle at the waist. You turn around for good measure and pull the stained shirt over your head, hurriedly trying to tug the new one on. Your bra’s partially soaked but screw it, you’ll just have to cope.

Yeah, it was definitely too small.

You’re still struggling to get it over your tits when you feel the hands at your back, feverish hands that linger before attempting to assist you.

“Well this really is a bit snug on you, isn’t it?” He chuckles softly and the sound does something, making your insides twist and curl.

His hands are at your front now and there is no pretense when those long fingers of his take a great deal longer dragging across your white satin clad breasts as the rest of the shirt is wrenched into place and you turn to face him.

“There we are. Now you’re presentable.” Another smile. He’s still standing close to you. You can feel the heat wafting from him. Like standing in front of a fireplace.

“Thanks,” you mutter awkwardly, not sure of what else to say.

“My pleasure.”

A little hum of amusement punctuates this last statement and then he hits the switch to open the blinds again.

You can feel his eyes on you all the way down the stairs, his silhouette unmistakable through the slats covering the windows.

You’ve finally gotten your employer’s attention.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #william afton #fnaf fanfic

[the-fluff-piece]

Sanji x reader modern day AU part 2:

I just want some f**ing coffee

Part 1: I just want some f**king...wine!

Part 3: I just want some f**ing sleep and comfort

Check out my other stuff:

My Masterlist - Short and Multichapter stories

Headcanon Masterlist

The date you were on the other night was disappointing - but the food was great! For some reason though, a chef from the restaurant took an interest in you. After crashing your date, he realised you were living right next to him all this time - and vows to court you until you're his! In this chapter, Sanji will bring your hungover ass some delicious breakfast and you'll get to know him (and his lips) a little better

Saturday morning. You woke up late, two glasses of wine really did knock you out, how pathetic. In uni, you could easily have double that and not even noticed. Sleepy and with a light headache, you check your phone - no message from Thomas. So he didn't like the date, either. No surprises there. Still stung.

You peeled out of your blanked for your morning ritual: a cigarette and coffee on the balcony. You caught your reflection in the mirror: yup, looking tired as fuck. Bags under your eyes, hair like a bird's nest and the general vibe of something that had existed for too long at the bottom of a handbag. Enough to scare the shit out of the judgy older lady from across the street when she would see you. It were the small things that made you happy.

You shuffled to your kitchen where you made a horrible discovery: Coffee was empty. Even scraping at the bottom of the tin can didn't produce enough for a cup, so you grumpily slipped into your fluffy robe, grabbed the pack of cigarettes and shuffled on to your small city balcony.

You lit one and watched the people on the street: an old lady with a cute dog, they were often walking by, so adorable. Joggers. Should do that, too. Sometimes. Not now. Woman on bike, looking fab. Damn, I should buy some of those workout pants, too. They look comfy! Hot blond guy with shopping bags, waving at someone. He looks like a snack. Cute cat yawning. Should get a fuckton of tho- wait a minute, you knew that guy. That was Sanji from yesterday.

Yet another cigarette became the victim of slack jawed staring between the two of you, sailing down to the street two stories below. Poor thing.

"Hey princess, I brought you coffee! On the house!" He shouted, grinning from ear to ear. "I got breakfast, too!" He had the inflection of someone luring an animal using treats. It worked well.

Your caffeine deprived brain couldn't fathom what was happening down there: the cook strolled towards the building and you lost sight of him. Shortly afterwards you heard a knock on your door. You ran inside to look through the peephole in the door.

What the fuck.

"Hey princess, I didn't know what you liked so I brought the classics!" his cheery voice could clearly be heard through the door and you saw his clear, blue eyes looking directly through the peephole in a fish-eye perspective.

"Can we maybe start at...WHY ARE YOU HERE? HOW?" You screamed at the door.

"I saw that you lived here, too! What a coincidence ! I just wanted to apologise for yesterday. Please let me make breakfast for you!" His muffled voice from behind the door sounded excited and way too cheery for this hour.

You listened to true crime, you were half sure that the guy was a crazy murderer, killing lonely women and possibly cooking them. But there was also a strong dependency on coffee and you were sure that you wouldn't make it to the supermarket in your state.

And it would be rude to refuse his offer. You removed the doorchain, unlocking the door. Sanji stood there with the widest, happiest grin you have ever seen, holding up a shopping bag full of groceries and with a duffle bag strapped around his shoulder. He was wearing fine pants and shoes and a very comfortable looking hoodie. The moment his eyes caught your sight they lit up with delight and a flow of barely discernible syllables bubbled from his mouth.

"There you are JUST LIKE I REMEMBER I will make you the best breakfast OF YOUR LIFE ❤❤❤" he mumbled like an old lady talking to her kitty cat. This weirdo was definitely not feeling dangerous enough to be a murderer. You stepped to the side. He moved past you into your apartment, looking around with open interest.

"How cozy! I love that chair - oh I know that book! Wow you have lots of plants, I somehow cannot keep them alive." He looked around like a tourist in the middle of a historic little town, slowly making his way towards your kitchenette.

"Uhm, it's not much, and it's not exactly cleaned up..." you apologised. Surely he was used to grade A equipment.

"It's fine, I have the same one, our apartments are quite similar." He explained, not showing the slightest sign of shock over your dirty little kitchen. "Besides, I brought some stuff." He sat the duffel bag down.

Humming to himself, he began unpacking and cleaning simultaneously like it was the most normal thing for him to operate in your kitchen. Dazzled, you fell into your comfy armchair and watched that tall, slender and overall handsome guy in your kitchen. He unpacked various ingredients and began rummaging through your cupboards, eventually finding a bowl and beginning to mix something. He even made a little show of flipping bottles around in his hand like a bartender or cracking eggs open with one hand. You felt a bit useless.

"Can I help...?" You asked, unsure of what you could even do.

"No, need. I'm cooking for you!" He turned around with a wink.

"Oh...ok." you said, getting up, feeling your headache again.

"I'm gonna...take shower" you decided and went to your small bath.

"Yes take your time! I'll call you when it's time to eat" he assured you.

Getting into the shower stall, your body slowly woke up. The hot water and flowery scent of your soap relaxed and refreshed you, soothed the ache in your head. Haven't had a man in here in...four years? And a handsome one at that. How strange. The realization of what was happening in your apartment at this moment was hitting differently now that you've awakened.

There is a hot guy. In my apartment. He's cooking breakfast for me.

Fuck, I look like shit. Fuckfuck! You decided to put as much effort into this as you dared. Quite frankly, you were out of practice. You washed your hair with the special expensive shampoo you once bought and never really used, you tried to peel and moisturize your face like you wanted to every day, and you put on a light perfume, that also just sat there for special occasions like today.

You snuck to your wardrobe in the bedroom. Outfit - what do you wear to a spontaneous breakfast with a guy who wears business casual on a saturday morning? A Blazer and blouse? The dress you wore to your sisters wedding? Standing in front of your wardrobe, you noticed that it was much too full but you still had nothing to wear.

You reminded yourself that he had already seen you at your (almost) worst, everything was an improvement. Deciding on a casual outfit, you grabbed a shirt and a pair of slacks and peaked into your living room/ kitchenette. Sanji had a towel over his shoulder, whistling as he cut a vanilla bean open. You came to stand next to him at the counter to look what he was doing. His sleeves were rolled up and he wore a black apron.

"Hey princess, there you are!" He greeted you as he took some cream out of the shopping bag and put it on the counter.

"Do you have to call me princess all the time?" You asked. "It's kind of making me uncomfortable."

"If you don't like it, I'll stop, mademoiselle" he told you with a wink. You rolled your eyes at him and he chuckled.

"Do you have something like a whisk?" he asked even though he already had a look around your kitchen.

You pointed to a cupboard above you.

"Thank you, mademoiselle" he said and smiled at you. As he moved to open it, you became once again aware of how tall he was. He reached over your head, getting extremely close and you caught the scent of his cologne.

He took out the kitchen utensil and began whisking the vanilla in a bowl together with sugar and the fresh vanilla. It was fascinating to watch his practiced movements and his joy while cooking.

He reached into his bag again and set a device made of metal on the counter, shaped like a bottle but with a few applications. You knew that thing from that one cooking show, but the name eluded you.

"Know what that is?" Sanji asked when he saw you staring.

"Of course" you say with your most confident voice, "that's a cream whipping thingy" you concluded.

He laughed from the bottom of his heart.

"Exactly! I'll have to tell my colleagues at the baratie about it's new name." He joked while he filled the device of unknown designation with the cream and screwed it shut.

"You know you can also use it for soup" he explained as he put it into your empty refrigerator.

"A whipped cream soup?" You asked and Sanji laughed again. His happiness was infectious.

"I'll show you another time." He promised as he started to prepare coffee beans with a small hand operated grinder. Another time? He was planning other times already?

"So, since you were on a date just yesterday I'm guessing you don't have a boyfriend? Or girlfriend?" He tried to ask casually, but his eyes were darting nervously as he spoke.

"No, I don't" you honestly answered and heard him exhale with relief.

"I bet the guys are all crazy about you!" He mused, watching your reaction. You snorted at that.

"Yeah, so crazy they're all running away" you commented, trying not to sound bitter and failing spectacularly. You added: "seriously, I think I am not made for dating. They all want to be 'just friends', guess I am that type of girl."

"Good to know that other men have no taste in women." He said happily. "Makes it easier for me" he continued. He cooked coffee now, pouring the hot water carefully over the powder. It smelled delicious. While the water turned into precious coffee he began setting the table. You were already reaching for the coffee pot like the junky you were when he caught your wrist. Even his hand felt soft.

"It's not done yet! I'll serve it to you when it's perfect to drink" he told you, turning your hand around in his and breathing the faintest kiss onto your wrist, causing you to blush violently.

"Just sit down while I add some finishing touches. You must be so hungry" he mused.

You wandered back to your comfy armchair on shaky legs, the tingle of his touch still fresh on your skin, looking at the beautiful cook working his magic in your tiny kitchen. When he began to set the table, you were still baffled by the variety and professional look of the foods.

There where beautifully decorated crepes with fruit and whipped cream, a steaming pot of delicious smelling coffee, bread slices surrounded by what looked like home made, savory spreads, fresh orange juice and some cooked eggs. It looked perfect and smelled like heaven. You took out your phone and made a picture to send it to your friend Chrissy to show off.

"Am I already making it to your Instagram? I feel honored" You heard him behind you as he peeked shamelessly into your phone, almost resting his chin on your shoulder.

"But let's not just look, let's eat." He waited behind a chair for you and pushed it to the table before he sat down himself, spinning the chair around and sitting down backwards, with his hands and head resting on top of the backrest.

You didn't know what you expected, but you were overwhelmed. "Uhm, why are you doing this again?" You asked insecurely - the best your ex ever managed was toast and marmalade.

"A beautiful lady deserves to be pampered" he answered in a serious tone. "Besides, I kind of lost my temper yesterday and crashed your date" he didn't seem sorry, in fact he grinned when he said it.

"So enjoy! I cooked up a luxury breakfast for you." His blue eyes sparkled with anticipation as you carefully loaded the crepe onto your plate, destroying the small masterpiece somewhat. You were normally not one to have breakfast, but the appetizing smell got you hungry.

The crepe was soft and warm, the cream tasted like vanilla with a hint of cinnamon. Its texture was perfect: creamy and fluffy, slightly buttery. It was perfectly balanced with the fresh, sour taste of the fruits. You could have moaned it was so good!

Ping

Ping

Ping

The constant ping of a cell phone was distracting you from the taste orgasm you were having. Opening your eyes, you saw Sanji, leaning on the backrest, staring at you with hooded eyes and an open mouth.

Ping

"Someone's messaging you I guess" you told him, ripping him from his trance.

"Oh, sorry! I should have turned that off." He took out the phone from his pocket and unlocked it. Being as nosy as he had been, you peeked at the screen - seeing the familiar design of a dating app.

Of course he was online dating. Every ping was a match, from the looks of it he got lots. Of course he was a player, the signs were all there, you just didn't want to see them. Suits, cooking, all that "princess" and "mademoiselle" bullshit. You scowled, hard. Years of training in the harsh world have made your scowl a powerful tool to broadcast your dissatisfaction to the world. Sanji understood immediately.

"No! It's not like that! I swear!" He held up his hands.

"I didn't say anything" you told him, surly.

"But you looked. Here, nothing is happening." He handed you his phone. What normal person does that?

You looked at his app, he had almost a thousand contacts, in this small town quite significant. Apparently, he was just matching every single woman he was shown, and most of them matched back. You navigated to the messages, he didn't protest. It really was sad.

He opened most conversations, all of them were a variation of "bonjour mademoiselle, I love you" and were read but ignored. The last messages were months old, he must have given up at some point. It was a strange display.

"You really thought this line would work? Just telling random women you love them right away?" You asked, unwilling to believe that someone would dedicate time and effort to this approach.

"It's no line!" He protested. "I love all women!" He said it as if this was a normal thing to say to a woman he currently was kind of flirting with.

"You won't get very far with that, this is too much too soon" you tried to explain.

"Why?" He asked seriously. "Love is good! Everyone wants to be loved!" He seemed very passionate about that.

"You don't just see someone and fall in love, that's not how it works, and it's not healthy" You were drawn into an obviously doomed debate but couldn't help it.

"No offense but, forcing yourself to date someone you don't like and doesn't respect you seems pretty far from love as well" he mused.

"Touche" you conceded, thinking about last night's disaster.

To your surprise, he blushed furiously and seemed strangely giddy all of a sudden.

"You are already jealous!" He said happily. "You want me so much that you are jealous, but don't be! The dating app didn't work because this" he pointed at himself and you" this is destiny!" He got up and swirled around like he was dancing, pouring you a fresh cup of coffee in the process.

"Just milk, no sugar" you reflexively said. He nodded and poured milk from a tiny carton into the cup. After the wine, the pasta, the dessert and the crepe, your expectations regarding this coffee were sky high.

You took a sip, Sanji almost leaned all the way over the table to savour your reaction.

It held up. The coffee tasted soft and just like freshly grounded beans always smelled. Like chocolate and nuts and warm summer mornings. You smiled as you remembered the delicious scent in the mornings of your childhood when the grownups drank their coffee while you had a whole day of playing ahead of you.

You heard a soft whimper from Sanji. He was staring at you with his mouth open.

"It's so nice to take care of someone who appreciates it." He said. "You're so sensual..." the last words were a husky whisper and his eyes fell shut. An unexpected kiss landed on your lips. It was nervous and hot and a little too wet, his eagerness getting the better of him. His little moustache tickled your face and you couldn't help but fondling that small goatee with your fingers. He kissed and touched you like a horny teenager, moaning as his tongue played around your mouth and his hands wandered over your body like he couldn't feel enough of you at once. His nimble, long fingers threaded through your hair.

It felt good, but it was too much. A guy with that kind of dating app approach was still a red flag. In a second, you could see your heart break when he left as soon as he got what he wanted. This was too easy, too perfect. Something was seriously wrong.

You pressed your hand against his muscular chest, but he didn't get the hint. He seemed to interpret it as you exploring him and he clutched your hand to himself, encouraging you to feel around more. It was seductive to just keep running your hand over his body, you could clearly feel his defined muscles under the soft fabric of his hoodie. But the doubt was too much for you to handle.

As his mouth broke away to kiss your hand, you managed to tell him: "Stop! Now!" He immediately let go and backed off, looking confused but still very much aroused. He was handsome with his lips red from a passionate kiss and his cheeks blushing. Too perfect.

"Did I hurt you? I am so sorry!" He wrung his hands and looked like a boy that had broken something expensive.

"No, it's just too fast. And I honestly don't know if I even want that right now." You explained.

He looked like you just stabbed him. Either he was the strangest, most naive man you ever met - or he was the best actor and most skilled asshole who would break your heart.

He turned away, looking hurt and small. But he was a grown man - he had to deal with rejection. You bet you weren't the first woman he startled. After a few seconds of hurt he seemed to get a hold of himself as he began to fidget with a zippo from his pocket.

"I am sorry I fell upon you like that. And kind of ruined the mood." He looked defeated, but composed. "I will be more controlled in the future. I am sorry!" He apologised with a smile that had to be forgiven immediately.

"Let's just be adults about this and forget it" you tried to somehow save the situation.

"No." He said decidedly.

"What?" You were confused.

"I'm never going to forget that. I don't want to act like I wasn't interested in you. I'll never ask for something in return when I cook for you, I promise. Please, let me cook for you in the future" he pleaded, absolutely losing you. What was his deal?

"So please, enjoy your breakfast" he said and sat down again to watch you. He explained all the foods to you in detail, making your head spin a little with all the information. He was almost like a podcast you could listen to while eating. Although your usual eating entertainment was Netflix. On the couch.

"So, after just now I hope it's not weird...but I brought the last classic for a fancy breakfast." He said a bit flustered.

"What is that? I am already stuffed..." You answered.

"Some champagne" He grinned.

"Did you really bring champagne?" You asked in disbelief.

"Just an open one from the Restaurant, we wouldn't sell that tonight anymore. But it's enough for two glasses and fresh enough." He explained, his relaxed smile back in place.

"Mhm, after yesterday I am a little hungover...just a sip?" You asked as he already poured two glasses.

You felt so tired and cozy, the table wasn't cutting it anymore. Actually, it has been ages since you used the small kitchen table - the couch was much more comfortable.

"Let's sit down here" you suggested and Sanji brought the glasses to your coffee table and sat down next to you with a wide grin and the bearing of someone who had just scored a win. He lay his arm on the headrest just above you and took one of the glasses.

"To destiny" He mumbled a toast.

"Destiny?" You giggled.

"Don't laugh! Do you think it's coincidence that you sit in my restaurant and an hour later I see that you live in my apartment building?" He said sternly.

"We live in a small town in a small building, we would have met sooner or later" you argued.

"Still destiny..." he mumbled with an adorable pout.

You touch your glass softly to his and say: "to daydrinking!"

He laughs. "To the good life" he returns the toast and you both drink.

The champagne is a bit too dry for your tastes, but surprisingly smooth. When was the last time you had a drink before noon? Probably some company event.

Looking at the handsome man on your couch, you deluded yourself into thinking you could have fun with him without attachment. Even in the moment the thought crossed your mind, it was as clear as the sparkling wine in your hand that you already liked him. He looked to inviting next to you, his outstretched arm creating the perfect space for you to rest your head. You leaned against him, feeling the soft fabric of his hoodie and his warmth once again. And it saved you from drowning in his eyes. He gasped a little when you touched him and began breathing really hard - good actor? Really naive? Doesn't matter now.

"Tell me something about yourself" you told him.

"Uhm mhm well I am a cook" he mumbled like his mouth was giving up.

"I know that" you told him. "What about family? Is this your family's restaurant?"

"Well kind of. More my stepfather. I don't really...it's complicated" he suddenly sounded like a normal person again. "But Zeff is really cool! And my colleagues at the restaurant are like my brothers." He told you about his stepfather, the restaurant and what kinds of menus he planned as you sipped your champagne. Between the hangover, a long week and a big breakfast - you were absolutely exhausted. Before you knew it, you drifted off to sleep, dreaming a pleasant dream about you and Sanji owning a small bistro somewhere nice and quiet.

When you woke up again, you were alone on the couch, afternoon sun bathed your living room in golden light, Sanji was gone. You lay outstretched under a blanket, the champagne was gone, too.

Fuck, now I fall asleep at a date? Is he mad at me?

The kitchenette is spotless, safe for the cream whipping thingy drying next to the sink. He cleaned up and left. Maybe you should bring him the thing? Or will he come and pick it up?

Undecided, you poured yourself the last cup of cold coffee. It tasted a little bland now, having lost its full aroma. You looked around your empty apartment and missed Sanji's cheery busyness already. Maybe you should just go and see where he lived. But you didn't even know his last name.

Years of online dating and unhealthy nosiness had given you the talent to find people by first name and extra info. You googled "Sanji" and "Baratie" and found an interesting newsarticle: "Success for charity" it said. "The local restaurant Baratie made a big leap for charity this weekend, inviting the children of the local community centre to cook delicious and healthy meals together. A win for the community and the children".

There was an adorable picture of Sanji, his arm around a cute little girl holding a plate of vegetables. The description read: "Sanji Vinsmoke showed the children that veggies can be tasty".

Bingo!

You would just stroll through the building and give him back his stuff and apologise for falling asleep on him. Like a normal, nice person. You were 99% sure that he didn't play games like "wait 3 days until you write" or something.

The halls of the building were narrow and long and it took you some time to find his name on one of the doors, it was on the opposite side of the building, no wonder you never bumped into him.

You pressed the doorbell, already anxious to see him again. Soft footsteps could be heard, the door opened. Your world crumbled a bit.

In front if you stood an absolute sexbomb of a woman. She wore Sanji's hoodie - the one you fell asleep on just earlier - and nothing else as it seemed. She had long, smooth legs, a perfect hourglass figure, full lips and the cutest face. Her pink hair was a perfect messy look. You stared. She looked annoyed.

"Yes?" She asked in a melodic voice.

"Uhm, is Sanji here?" You asked, trying to catch a glimpse of the flat behind her. She blocked your view.

"No, he is at work." Her answer was short and finite.

"I brought his cream whipping thing back" you stammered and indicated the device you were holding.

"Syphon" the woman stated.

"What?" You asked, confused.

"It's called a syphon. Thank you. Bye." The woman took the syphon out of your hand and closed the door, leaving you dumbstruck in the hallway.

_______

What is happening here? Who is the mystery lady? What's her relationship with Sanji? Is the writer of this story just messing with you to create a cheap cliffhanger?

Find out in the next installment of this Sanji modern day AU!

I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE THIS. I was so unhappy and revised and revised and...you get the idea. It's still not perfect but I am content enough.

As always, please leave a comment if you want more or if you have a wish how it should continue. it's always a great motivator to me and I probably wouldn't have written part 2 if people hadn't asked for it

I am taking the freedom to tag previous commenters, I hope you don't mind

Also: please comment to be taken into the taglist for this story! I think I will write it for a while

@yeeeeezly

@roronoazorohater

@opalryst

@pastel9girlbunny000die

@pandabear-artsy-witch

@missallsundayyy

#one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #op sanji #blackleg sanji #sanji #sanji modern au #one piece modern au #one piece au #one piece fanfic #the fluff piece

[furniturebyabd-blog]

Subtleties in Detail.From clipped corner detailing and slight reveals to carved diamond faceted framing, shadow box molding that envelops the case to soft hammered silver hardware accents and carved saber legs with eight facets, there is subtle complexity in every piece of Tribeca which reveals itself in degrees the longer you gaze.So go ahead and stare,we promise it only gets better.

https://furniturebyabd.com/theodore-alexander

#Theodore Alexander Nesting Table Brooklyn New York #Theodore Alexander Nightstand Brooklyn New York #Comfort Bedding Frames Brooklyn New York #Century Furniture Dressers and Chests Brooklyn New York #John Richard Modern Glass Console Tables Brooklyn New York

[whumpshaped]

tw tiny whumpee, it/its used as a way to dehumanise, captivity

"It really is beautiful. Both the cage and your new acquisition. You weren't kidding when you said it was worth every penny to you."

"Oh yeah, this thing was pricey. It's the most modern one I could find, self-cleaning, it gives the little thing water and food without me needing to do anything. And it's very pretty. If you look there, you can see all that decoration... that's all in gold. I've heard they love gold and shiny things. And all those playthings there? Those cost a fortune as well, but my little pet won't be bored for any second of the day, I'll make sure of it."

"I bet it's the happiest little thing in the world now that you bought it. Will it come closer if I tap on the glass parts?"

"Tapping usually scares it off. That might change as it gets more comfortable, though, I don't know yet."

"Have you thought of a name for it?"

"Not yet. I want something soft and elegant, and I haven't come across the perfect one so far."

Auryn watched from behind the glass, certain that their captor had no idea they could understand their simple language. It felt humiliating to be reduced to nothing but a pet when their culture and society was so much more advanced. Their people were skilled metal-workers, they weren't damn magpies looking for shiny things to bring back to their nests, they were creating masterpieces.

They pulled their knees up to their chest, hugging them close. Miserable, stupid humans. If they wanted them to feel grateful and entertained in their ridiculous golden cage, they would make a point of showing just how unimpressed they were.

~

@ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen

#whump #whump drabble #tiny whump #captivity #dehumanisation #misgendered oc

[misslavenderlady]

KARMA - Part 3 😈

Poly!Lost Boys/Female!OC (Mainly David&Marko/OC)

Summary: It's time for the final part of Marko's punishment. Since he was too rough in getting his mate to prepare for baby-making, David is going to have to step in and show him how it's really done~

This is the third and final part of a collab series with @ghoulgeousimmaculate. It features her OCs from Party The Pain Away and Little Red (which I highly recommend you read). This has references to her stuff, and takes place in the modern world, not 1987!

WARNINGS: Nsfw/18+ Readers Only, Sadism, Mind Control, Psychological Torture, Dom/Sub, Humiliation, Punishment, Degradation, Cuckolding, Voyeurism, Blowjob, Masturbation, Breeding Kink, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Impregnation, Cum Eating

PART 1 PART 2

Marko weakly nodded, muttering that he understood as David loomed over him. The Head Vampire nonchalantly yanked the stake and Gemsbok from his brother, apathetic to the pain the rough removal caused. He left Marko’s side for a moment, preparing his beloved chair for transport by covering it with a thick tarp and plush towels. When he was satisfied that his throne was safe from any bodily fluids, he hoisted his brother into the vehicle and wheeled him from the toy room and into the tunnels.  

As they journeyed, Marko moaned in pain from his rigorous torture and David’s rough manhandling. His stomach ached, screaming with hunger, his body telling him that he needed to feed so it could restore itself. But his punishment wasn’t over. ACT II of David’s torture session was a lesson on ‘lovemaking.’ Marko presumed he had to endure his brother bedding their wife the ‘proper’ way.  

The two arrived at Sis’ nest, walking in on Dwayne and Paul bathing her. She lay resting in an antique clawfoot tub, a gift they gave her on her first vampire birthday because she expressed how she missed taking baths. She deserved the finest model, certainly not the old, dusty one from the toy room.  

Sis rested in the vessel with a glass of blood in her hand, a regal and content smile on her face as she soaked in warm soapy water filled with rose petals. Marko looked on longingly as his brothers touched her luscious brown skin, stroking it with their calloused fingers as they cleansed and rinsed her.  

When she noticed David’s arrival, she excitedly stood, causing water to dribble down her ample curves. Marko traced the water droplets with his eyes, wishing he was the one that disappeared between the aperture of her thick thighs. Dwayne grabbed a towel and held his arms out, smiling as Sis jumped into his embrace. Marko’s chest flooded with jealousy and yearning when Dwayne got the pleasure of feeling her soft breasts against his chest. Dwayne was lucky, as was Paul. The wild-haired blond received a front-row seat to her jiggling bottom.  

Marko could feel his loins begin to stir. He tried to will them to calm down, embarrassed his brothers would notice because he was unclothed, but he couldn’t stop his body from reacting to his wife’s beauty.  

“Aroused already?” David purred as he locked the wheels of his chair. “I haven’t even gotten started yet.” 

Dwayne and Paul snickered as David teased their brother. Only Marko could come out of a brutal torture session with his body completely maimed and still have his dick work enough to get excited at the sight of their wife. They messed with him some more, slowly rubbing the fabric of the towel up and down her body, squeezing at every curve to show her off some more. She sighed in delight from their touch, only adding to the fun more.  

“Hi, Daddy~” she purred at David. “You missed such a nice bath with me. There’s always plenty of room for two in here.”  

“Oh, I think he knows that baby girl,” Dwayne smiled, giving her perky nipples a teasing tug as he finished drying her off.  

“And if you squeeze in nice and tight, you can fit three in for some fun~” Paul teased, adding a hearty slap to her ass.  

The squeals that Sis let out were pure music to their ears. She had such a beautiful voice, and they played her body like the finest instrument whenever they wanted to hear the sounds she could make. It always gave them a good show.  

“Well, the fun is just getting started, my beloved,” David assured his wife. “You see, I feel absolutely terrible about what happened. It would seem that our littlest vampire has completely forgotten his lessons on how to properly seduce and pleasure a lady like yourself. And with poor, darling Red carrying his baby, she deserves proper care when she needs some good lovin’. Wouldn’t you agree?”  

A sneaky glimmer flashed against her beautiful, brown eyes. She adored it when her husband got eager for some proper lovemaking. He always knew how to make her feel like the amazing woman she was. With a flirtatious giggle and a twirl of a lock of hair, she made it clear that she was game for whatever David wanted to play.  

“Yes, Daddy. Marko has been such a brute lately. More like a dog than a man. Such a bad boy~” 

“A very bad boy, indeed, my sweet,” David purred as he beckoned her to him with a crooked finger. “And you need a gentleman.”  

Big Sis smiled demurely, slipping from Dwayne’s arms to glide to David’s side. The boys watched her cross the room, enjoying her confident and mesmerizing strut. They followed every curve with their eyes, salivating as her bottom jiggled and her breasts bounced. She was a woman to the core, made just like the ones they bedded a century ago. Having her within arm's length drove David crazy, but he had better self-control than Marko.  

“You see, brother,” David began as he tipped Sis’ chin up so she could meet his gaze, “there are many ways to get a lady into your bed. When we first met our darling wife, it didn’t take brute strength for me to seduce her. It just took a little of this.”  

David’s eyes blazed gold, his icy blues melting away to leave piercing beams that rivaled the sun. Sis’ eyes grew wide, and her breath hitched as the chocolate in her eyes began to swirl, mingling with the haze of David’s thrall. Her eyes glazed over, and she began moaning as David’s touch slithered from her chin to her throat.  

“If you have to go through the nasty business of taking a woman by force,” David crooned as he gathered his wife into his arms, “this is the best course of action.”  

He carried her to the special bed on the other side of the room. It was perfectly spacious and plush for the special things he loved to do with her. David laid his wife in the middle of the bed, smirking as she writhed and cooed in anticipation of his touch. He teased her by kissing her plump lips passionately before pulling back to undress, all while he continued to educate his brother.  

“You see how easy that was?” David scolded as he slipped off his shirt. “She’s already wet and ready for me, and I didn’t have to throw her on the floor. All it took was my mind and my touch. But that’s just lesson one. I don’t even need that for her to want me,” David pointed out as he dropped his pants, leaving himself nude before everyone.  

“By the end of the night, I’ll have her begging me to have my baby. And trust me; she’ll be lucid when she requests that.” David slipped into bed with Sis, shushing her with soothing tones as he ran his fingers over her heaving chest.  

Paul and Dwayne gave their leader and wife the space they needed to have their moment of intimacy. They stepped away from the tub and made their way to the wheelchair, each staying put at one of Marko’s sides. Whatever David had planned next was going to be much more enjoyable than what went down in the toy room. 

Though David thoroughly enjoyed playing around with his beloved’s mind, he knew it would hurt Marko that much more to let her be completely coherent in whatever pleasure he gave her. He could take her whenever he wanted, yet she was devoted enough to open up her body to him at any moment.  

“Oooh my sweet little wife~” David purred, his eyes flashing back to their icy blue tone. “Whatever would you like most from your husband? What could I do to make you happy that Marko can’t?” 

When the haze in her mind cleared, Sis was able to slip back into her devious little persona. She still ached for David’s touch as she did when she was under his spell. A soft sigh fell from her lips and her lashes fluttered in a flirtatious manner. David’s influence still held onto her even without the thrawl. His blood would forever be in her veins.  

“Mmmmh I want to suck your big cock, Daddy,” she cooed, eyeing his body with newfound hunger. “Show Marko what he’s missing out on~”  

That certainly put a smile on his face. She was always eager to please with that sweet little mouth of hers. It seemed only right to play with one hole before he took the other. A wicked smirk painted David’s face as he stroked his hand over his cock with one hand and beckoned her to get closer to the other. 

“That’s my girl. I love getting head from my beautiful little wife. I'm so lucky to get you all to myself tonight~” 

Marko fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair. His body was in terrible pain, shifting in between the strain of everything healing and his desire being unsatisfied. Even if he wanted to move, he couldn’t. Dwayne and Paul each had a hand clasped down on his wrists. He wasn’t going anywhere.  

“Stop squirming and watch the show, bud,” Paul said. 

“Yeah. You’re not the only one missing out,” Dwayne added. 

They both watched their beautiful lady shift around, getting on her hands and knees to face David at the edge of the bed. Her tongue hung lazily out of her mouth, dripping wet as it beckoned the vampire to slip inside for her to taste. Sis eyed the long appendage with gluttonous hunger, her eyes following every blue engorged vein on the surface of her husband’s massive dick.  David was rock-hard and ready for his wife, his dick cherry red at the tip and weeping. 

“Feed me, Daddy,” she pleaded as her pretty pink tongue hung from her mouth.  

David smirked as he happily obliged, slipping himself past his beautiful wife’s pouty lips and into her jaws. Sis immediately got to work, salivating over him like a hungry animal. Her mouth bobbed over him as she licked, sucked, and teased David with her tongue.  

The blond vampire’s head fell back with a sigh as his eyes rolled into his head, the hot velvety sensation of Sis’s mouth lulling him into a state of euphoria.  

“Shit, dollface, you always feel so good inside.”  

Sis hummed with pleasure, delighted with the praise David bestowed upon her. She was just getting started. Her lips twisted into a wicked smile before she began to suck like a Hoover vacuum cleaner. Sis’ cheeks caved in as she massaged and serviced David with her mouth.  

The coos and expletives that fell from his mouth made her chest swell with pride. She loved being the only one to bring David to this state, a cursing blubbering mess. David adored it too, whether he would admit to it or not. 

While the two lovers were lost in their ecstasy, Marko simply watched on in agony. He felt so weak compared to David. So beat up from his torture, and so unwanted after the attack he tried to pull with Sis earlier. Every part of his body was screaming for something. Whether it was for the pain to stop or for more pleasure to take over, he wasn’t entirely certain. It all blended in together after a while.  

Paul and Dwayne were just as invested in the show, though they made the most of it by enjoying it from afar. Their blood was rushing hot and fast in their undead veins, moving all the way down to their groins. They were both licking their lips in hunger. Not only did they love their wife’s mouth just as much as David did, but they loved servicing their leader too. It always got them going to see the two of them go at it. 

“Fuck, she’s always so beautiful on her knees like that~” Dwayne growled, squeezing at his dick over his jeans. It was always a miracle his length could stay tucked away like that when he got hard.  

“David’s lookin’ pretty yummy himself~” Paul purred out. He was grinding against the side of the wheelchair, trying to get some friction.  

Poor Marko was completely surrounded by lust and had absolutely no way to scratch the itch he was feeling. Suddenly, going for another swim in the holy water bathtub didn’t sound so bad compared to all of this. 

“You two are such assholes...” he grumbled, eyes still focused on Sis. She was sucking David off even faster now. Their beloved wife always had such an appetite for their bodies.  

From the moment she met them at Santa Carla Soundstage years ago, she was ever so responsive to their charm and caress. And to think, she almost wasn’t their wife. On two separate occasions, he and the boys almost devoured her. Her life was spared both times, one by happenstance and the other by David’s hand. The platinum blond could see the beauty, the potential, but he and the boys couldn’t. They were thinking with their dicks and their bellies while David was using his wits. Or perhaps, their bond began then.  

David could have kept her to himself, but he allowed the four of them to love, bed, and nurture her as a collective. Allowed them all to know love again.  

GOD, he fucked up. Marko mused in suffering while he focused on Sis’ bobbing throat. The curly-haired vampire could see the outline of his brother’s massive dick in the base of her petite little neck. He was painfully jealous, wishing it were him taking her like that. 

David would have loved more than anything to spill his load down his wife’s throat for a treat, but he wanted to fill her in a different way tonight. Reluctantly, he nudged her off his cock, and took hold of her chin, tilting it upward for her to look at him. He never got tired of how her pretty doe eyes shimmered whenever she gazed into his own. 

“My wife,” he purred, rubbing her chin with his thumb. “You love our family, right? We have such a perfect little daughter together, don’t we?” 

Sis sighed, nuzzling into her husband’s touch. Her heart swelled with delight whenever she thought about their happy family. All the struggle and pain she went through as a human being had been worth it to have a life like this. She forgot all her woes whenever she and David held Eva, listening to her laughter during family time.  

“Ooh David,” she sighed. “She’s my pride and joy, a true mix of our best parts. I couldn’t imagine anyone else being her father.” 

That particularly stung Marko. He pouted to himself, thinking about how stunning she would have been, belly round with a baby sired by him. Maybe even two....or three. But he had that with Red, and he hadn’t appreciated it. His monstrous side got the better of him, and he would never get that chance with Sis. Greed was something that corrupted him in life, and now it did so in death.  

David taunted such a fact even more when he asked his beloved another question. 

“How about we add to that happiness and make another baby together~?” 

Tears of joy welled in Sis’ eyes when David’s proposition fell on her ears. She loved being a mother. It was something she thought she had been robbed of in her human life when her fiancé was murdered. Dwayne and David gave her a second chance at being a parent. Dwayne reinvigorated her maternal instinct by allowing her to adopt and nurture Laddie. David blessed her further when he filled her womb and allowed her to experience the joys of motherhood from beginning to end.  

She was eternally grateful to both of them—especially David.  

“YES, Daddy! PLEASE! I want your baby!” She greedily confessed. Sis perked up, throwing herself into David’s arms as she began pawing at him hungrily. “PLEASE,” Sis whined as she wantonly latched onto him, wrapping her arms and legs around his body in need. “Daddy, FUCK Me. Make LOVE to me.”  

Her eyes blazed gold as her body flooded with desire, the heat from her arousal emanating from her skin. The idea of David filling her womb with another child made her hot, and he was the only thing that could cool her down. Purrs of delight rumbled behind her breasts, and she rubbed her body against his. David could feel her warm slick leak against his belly. Her scent, the feeling of her hot tender skin, and her horny and needy coos of desire triggered something primal deep inside him. 

David chuckled in delight. He and the other boys never got tired of their mates acting clingy as hell. It made them feel powerful. Wanted. Like they could do whatever they desired. It made it that much more fun to please.  

So just as his wife did, David gave in to his own need.  

He grabbed hold of her ass with one hand and her back with the other, laying her down on the bed. He growled playfully as he kissed her, already eager to slip his tongue past her pretty, plush lips. Never before had he experienced such bliss before getting her pregnant with Eva the first time around. Now he would chase the high of fatherhood yet again.  

Sis sighed with delight as David rubbed his rock-hard cock over her wet folds. Her body was screaming at her to let him fill her to the brim with his seed. She was like a cat in heat, desperate for her mate to take her.  

“Ooooh doll~” David sighed in between kisses. He flipped the two of them so their bodies could switch positions. The beauty was straddling his hips now, pussy still achingly close to him. “A lady shouldn’t be wrestled to the ground. She deserves to be on top like the queen she is~” 

Marko whimpered pathetically. Pushing her to the cave floor was a terrible move. He could barely watch the two of them go at it like this. It was already agony to hear Sis beg to be filled with David’s baby. He wanted to look away, but the others wouldn’t have it. Dwayne grabbed at his curly hair, gripping it tight and pulling upward so Marko couldn’t look away.  

“It’s a shame,” he commented. “That could have been you if you hadn’t been such an ass.” 

“Coulda been any of us,” Paul added. His pants were unzipped and his hand was slipping past the fabric to touch his aching dick. “You had to go and fuck it up for the rest of us, didn’t ya?” 

“I’m sorry,” Marko whispered.  

“You should be,” Dwayne quipped as he tightened his grip on Marko’s curls. The brunet held his grasp firmly even when he became entranced by his wife’s sighs of pleasure.  

The boys focused on her round behind and her engorged pussy lips as she hovered over David’s erect dick. The three of them groaned with lust as they watched Sis lower herself, each inch disappearing as her pussy greedily swallowed him. Sis mewled when David became fully sheathed inside her.  

“Oh, Daddy,” Sis whispered with distorted vocals as she threw her head back. The brown-skinned beauty’s tongue jutted from her mouth as she rolled her hips, the muscle serpentine in nature. Her manicured claws lengthened from her cuticles. The sharpened tips prodded at David’s chest, leaving playful weeping scratches. David smiled as he watched his wife morph into her most primal form.  

He had never seen her look more beautiful—his creation.  

“That’s it,” David praised, his voice morphing to match his beloved's. “Let go.” David’s claws lengthened as well, and he didn’t hesitate to hook them into his wife’s hips to hold her firmly. She gasped from the pain, but it wasn’t rooted in trauma, it was rooted in pleasure.  

Sis rocked her hips, rolling them with a sinful rhythm. David filled her to the hilt, and she could feel him massage her from the inside, her lower belly feeling full from his impressive size. She started off slowly, enjoying the delicious sensations, the quivering of her walls around her mate, but something animalistic inside her made her roar with primal lust. Her slower pace bled into one more manic as she began to bounce on David like a wild animal. The Vampire Queen alternated between feminine coos and savage roars as she fucked the Master Vampire. 

“Atta fuckin’ girl~” David growled, overwhelmed with the euphoric sensation of her heat surrounding him. She was so perfect for him in every way. He would stay inside her every second of every day if he could.  

“Only my seed gets to fill that perfect womb of yours, my love,” he said. Though he spoke to Sis, his eyes were shifted over to Marko. A cruel smirk was on his face as he made it perfectly clear to the smaller vampire who was in charge here. “God, I remember the night we made our first baby. Doing it all again is the closest I’m gonna get to Heaven~” 

Sis’ back arched and her locs flowed as she moved faster. Her hips moved perfectly, never slowing down for even a moment. She was addicted to the way David made her feel. She wouldn’t give up this pleasure for anything in the world.  

“D-David!! Oooh God~” she sighed. “I wanna have your child! I want to have all your children....mmh!...please...oh please, breed me!”  

Her begging to be impregnated was driving the other boys crazy. Paul and Dwayne each held their cocks in hand, stroking off to the sound of their wife begging for a baby. They both pictured taking David’s place, giving her their own seed to add to their family. Maybe if they were on their best behavior, they would each get a turn next.  

Marko wouldn’t be so lucky. In his ruined state, he knew that even after all the punishments and torment, David wouldn’t even consider the idea for the next several decades. Maybe not even in the next century. He sighed, still hard and aching all over. All of the pain was enough to bring him to tears. Hearing their leader’s name sing from her voice wasn’t helping that. 

“David! Daddy, please don’t stop!” 

“I don’t intend to,” David whispered as he bucked his hips. The feeling of David rutting into Sis with such authority caused her to cry out with passion.  

“SHIT!” She roared with a demonic whisper, her doe-eyes glowing beneath her half-lidded lashes. She shivered, her thick thighs trembling around David’s waist. The powerful pounding David provided with a roll of his hips was glorious. Her pussy was undulated and clenched, the coil in her lower belly tightening deliciously.  

“Ugh–Oh, David, GOD—F-fuck!” Sis bounced on David, matching David’s stride with a gyration of her hips. The two locked eyes with each other, grunting and growling as they picked up the sinful pace.  

Sis dug her claws into David’s chest and David returned the favor, gripping her hips with his monstrous talons. David was driving her crazy. 

But while she loved being on top and acting dominant, something about this act, breeding, made a part of her feel deliciously submissive. She was honored to perch herself on David’s royal scepter like the Queen she was, but she wanted him to take her.  

She flipped her mate over with her vampiric strength and the grip of her shapely thighs. She lay under David panting and rolling her hips.  

“FUCK ME, DADDY!” She begged huskily. “BREED ME!” 

“Yes, my Queen…” 

Happy to fulfill her deepest wishes, David took control of her body. He leaned down to kiss her, wanting her to feel loved as he fucked her like a man possessed. Any sex with her was amazing, but the kind where they mixed the tenderness of love-making with the roughness of pure fucking was his favorite. They were a perfect match.  

“Gonna fill you to the brim, baby. Ooooh fuck, I’m gonna cum in this pretty cunt so you’ll be full with my baby again~” 

His hands slipped into hers, fingers entwining while his hips slapped into her. She welcomed him eagerly, legs locked around him with no sign of letting go. The two lovers wanted to fuck for hours. DAYS. Anything to stay together in such an embrace.  

“I hope you’re fucking watching, Marko, you little shit,” David growled, eyes shut in pleasure, but his voice still commanding enough to get the vampire’s attention. “Every day she carries my child, you’ll remember this night. Every time she waddles around, rubs her belly, and fills up with milk to feed our baby, you’ll be reminded of what you did. What you squandered.” 

David greedily pulled Sis in closer, fucking her faster and faster, hitting the sweet spots he knew best. Her head was tossed back and her beautiful body shook as she inched closer and closer to climax. Sweet sighs filled the room, filling each husband with desire.  

“You...f-fuck...you better treat Red the way I treat MY wife. You’re gonna...mmmff...be a good goddamn mate and father or I’ll remind you of how it’s really done.” 

Marko hung his head in shame. His lesson was more than learned, but he knew better than to question David. He was right after all. 

“Yes, Master...” 

Though Paul and Dwayne were caught up in their own bought of lust, they weren’t going to forget about keeping Marko’s focus on the grand finale. They could smell the pleasure radiating off of their perfect wife’s body. Sis was so close, and they wouldn’t dare look away when she came.  

“DAVID! Oooh God, C-CUMMING!!!” she shrieked. Her body trembled underneath David, the euphoric waves crashing down on her. She was such a noisy little thing for her beloved husband. It was hard not to be when he fucked her like a God.  

Sis clung to David, her legs wrapped around him as she rode the waves of pleasure. Her petite hands grasped his tightly as she tensed and quaked from orgasm.  

“T-thank you, Daddy! UGH! THANK YOU! Ah!! GOD! I love you~” she whimpered.  

David always blessed her with his torturous touch. He and the boys—minus Marko—clung to her voice as she sang her bliss. Her soft feminine sighs and high-pitched wails reverberated off the cave walls, ensnaring their minds. They hung onto the sound of her voice and the aroma of her musk as they stroked themselves to release.  

“Fuck, babe,” Paul grunted as he unloaded in his hand. “I didn’t even touch you, and you’re driving me wild.”  

Dwayne growled in agreement, cumming with a roar as he ejected on the Persian carpet splayed across the cave floor.  

David snarled as he folded his wife in half, bucking deep into her body a few more times as she clenched around him, milking him of his seed. He threw his head back, growling and moaning as the massive load he’d been holding was deposited into her body.  

Heat blossomed in Sis’ lower belly, and she could feel her insides flood with warmth. Her undead heart leaped with joy as her mind wandered to the joys of motherhood. 

While everyone else enjoyed their blissful afterglow, Marko remained still and quiet in the wheelchair. His balls ached and his pride was wounded. He didn’t know whether he wanted to pass out for a week-long sleep after everything that happened or go on a killing spree to feed his pained stomach. It had been pure hell tonight, but at least he could say it was over.  

There was a time long ago when he held the power that David had, albeit in an entirely different setting. He would have definitely put someone else through such torture, fucking session included. That powerful status was gone, and David made that abundantly clear tonight. All he could do was show gratitude for having his life spared.  

“Mmmmm Eva’s gonna be such a good big sister...~” Sis cooed, nuzzling sweetly against her mate. It put a smile on David’s face to see her so happy. He would give his wife all the children she wanted. They’d build an entire empire together.  

“There now, darling, get nice and cozy for Daddy,” he whispered, kissing her forehead as he helped her get in a more comfortable position on the bed. “Get some sleep, and I’ll take you out for a special dinner when you wake.” 

Dwayne and Paul were instructed through telepathic conversation to wash up and take care of the children. They nodded, tucking their softened cocks back into their pants before making their leave.  

That only left Marko. While Sis faded off to sleep, David stroked her cheek and kissed her sweetly, keeping his icy eyes upon his brother all the while.  

“I really hope you learned your lesson tonight because I better not have to repeat myself again.” 

“I know my place, Master...” Marko said. He felt incredibly broken. Like how he made all his beloved victims feel as both a human and a vampire. It certainly put a smile on David’s face. 

“She really likes that rug. Get it cleaned up before you go feed,” the Head Vampire ordered. 

“Yes, Master,” Marko whispered as he eased from David’s chair to retrieve a wash basin and a rag. The curly-haired blond grimaced as he lowered himself on shaky knees to the floor. His skin continued to pulse and flake from his body as he moved. He hissed in pain as he dipped his hand into the warm soapy water to dampen the rag.  

“Not so fast,” David growled as he stroked his wife's locs. “I didn’t say for you to clean it that way.”  

Marko lowered his head, feeling smaller than a flea. He already knew what David wanted him to do, but he still wanted to clarify.  

“How do you wish me to clean the Queen’s rug, Master?”  

“With your tongue of course. Put that little devious appendage to good work.”  

Marko nodded in submission, lowering himself onto his belly to clean his wife’s carpet. His tongue jutted from between his lips to lap at Dwayne’s seed. Marko grimaced when his tongue made contact with the fibers of the rug and the ice-cold slimy texture. He’d serviced Dwayne countless times during the throes of passion and never once did he dread having a mouthful of his packmate’s seed.  

This time, however, he was disgusted. But he made quick work of the load, licking the surface of the plush carpet clean before going behind himself with the rag. David hummed in approval before waving the blond away with a flick of his wrist. Marko rose from the floor, gritting his teeth through the pain so he wouldn’t wake his slumbering bride.  

He returned the wash basin to its proper place before blowing out the candles, leaving David alone with the rejuvenated and now inseminated Queen. He only hoped she would be happy with the baby she was given. Happier than he could have ever made her. 

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#Nsft #Smut #the lost boys #tlb #writing collab #tw smut #tw impregnation #tw degradation #tw mind control