#led exterior sign

[signhub24]

What Materials Are Best for Long-Lasting Exterior Signs in Langley?

When it comes to exterior signs in Langley, the choice of materials can significantly impact both their appearance and durability. For businesses looking to make a lasting impression, it’s crucial to select materials that not only enhance visibility but also withstand the elements

[aliidarling]

im preying on you tonight

GHOSTFACE x fem!reader

nsfw content — pls scroll if uncomfortable!

summary; you’re at a haunted house and have a bad experience with these annoying scare actors 🙄

warnings: blood and gore, smut, p in v, non con, rough sex, no protection, fondling, fingering, creampie, penetration, mean ghostie, size kink, intended dacryphillia

meant so you can imagine any male ghostface :)

nsfw content below !!

this time of the year was always gloomy and dark, the forest air foggy and limiting the man’s view. his mask didn’t allow him much access anyways, but all these branches hitting him in the face as he ran wasn’t the best either.

he could hear the girls loud crying from in front of him, her wheezing and low coughing. he had to hand it to her, she was managing to still run away from him with stab wounds and several scratches. some of his victims gave up immediately the second they saw his shrieked expression, but no, not this girl. he was slightly amused by it, but also annoyed.

this dumb blonde had somehow managed to drag him all the way into this forest, dirtying his robe. he swore, he could feel the splinters pricking at his skin. her screaming for help didn’t help his annoyance either.

in the distance he caught a glance of a large amusement park, the trees slowly moving out of the way and showing the night sky more clearly. the wind blew, the loud music becoming more and more clear. the girl noticed as well and started to run towards the open gate. he tsk’d under his breath, stopping for a moment to catch his breath, before continuing his sprint. he tucks his knife into his robe and looks at where the girl is headed.

straight towards a haunted house. a tall, black house with gothic exterior and cobwebs decorating the windows. he could see the led lights from the front, the large sign with all the information written down on it.

anger washed over him as the girl ran into the house through the back door, leaving her bloody trail behind her. why was his job so hard? this girl should of dropped dead minutes ago. adrenaline was a silly thing.

at the front of the haunted house, you stood gazing at the sign with an unsure expression. you had come here with friends a few hours back, all dressed up in cute little halloween outfits in celebration of the spooky holiday. but not even a hour in everyone split up and left you all alone. what a shitty friend group.

to your left you caught a glimpse of a figure running into the back of the haunted house. you frowned and took a peek, watching as a dark robe followed in after her in a hurried manner. weird.

anyways, the sign said admission fee was seven dollars. wasn’t too bad, you guessed. you hesitantly handed the employee a ten dollar bill and waltzed in.

the inside was dark with a fog machine taking up the hallways, giving it an eerie aura. the lace curtains, the dark furniture, the tall paintings of people you had never seen before— this seemed like an actual house more then a haunted one. it was all part of the gig, right?

you wandered into the kitchen, only to get jumpscared by a scare actor that was almost twice your size. he was dressed as a beast, hiding in the corner. with a scream, he pounced at you and caused you to stumble back and drop your soda all over your top. gasping for air, you looked up at him with a pissed off expression, fingers trembling.

the man stared at you for a few seconds with an unsure look, before shrugging and shuffling into the darkness once again, looking for another unsuspecting victim to scare.

“great, just great.” you mutter bitterly to yourself. you sigh tiredly and throw your empty bottle into the garbage, patting some droplets off your top.

you were dorothy for halloween, matching with the rest of your friend group. you were all fairy tale characters. …a more slutty version of them, that is. you had on a blue plaid dress that stopped at your mid thigh, red flats, with your hair styled with cute bows keeping it in messy pigtails.

your pretty blue dress was now covered in soda though, so that wasn’t the greatest. you took another minute to look around the kitchen, flinching at a spider that you realized was fake after a minute, almost slipping on some cobwebs, before shrieking when another scare actor dressed as a bloody bride came out of nowhere.

today was not your day, not in the slightest.

"AAAAH!" a sudden scream from the hallway catches your attention. you shriek and turn quickly, blinking for a moment before shuffling forward and creeping into the door that leads to the hallway. there's a blood trail on the floor that leads to the staircase. that must mean the haunted house wants you to follow it, right? is this one of those haunted houses that has a specific pathway so you can experience every part? probably.

"mmmm, okay." you say to yourself, shrugging and following it up the stairs. it's slippery. you cringe and reluctantly look around the upstairs. scary music plays obnoxiously loud in the background, the lights flickering to give a mysterious feeling and a creepy edge. it's working. working too well.

a door slams to your left and you flinch, looking in that direction immediately. you see the same black robe flash in the distance, the same robe you've seen already. what a committed scare actor. was he targeting you? or were you just witnessing him scaring his other victims?

"SOMEONE! HELP ME!" a girly shriek resonates from said room. you blink dumbly for a moment, looking at the other doors that have cobwebs and poorly drawn blood platters on them, some doors having signs on them. one sign said “danger ahead!” and another said “beware of ghosts!”.

after a moment of thinking you slowly walked down the hallway into the dark room, looking around in surprise. it was a media room that was completely wrecked. the couch had its fabric ripped with stab marks all over it, blood marks, and some stuffing spilling out of it. the table was thrown onto its side with the glass vase shattered.

at the end of a room was a large door with decor hanging off it. you stepped forward and opened it slowly, blinking in surprise as you were immediately met with a reflection of yourself. your lips parted in awe as you realized it was a mirror maze. what creeped you out was the bloody hand marks on the mirrors. this haunted house was very realistic. you didn’t like it.

you walked forward, only to immediately head butt into a mirror. you blinked rapidly in shock and looked around, patting your surroundings and trying to find the pathway to the exit. another long minute passes as you pat the wall, letting it lead you deeper and deeper into the maze.

someway through your little adventure someone suddenly rams into you, making you shriek and give the mirror in front of you another headbutt. she gasps and curls into you, tugging at your clothing and crying out annoyingly loud.

"okay buddy, i don't think scare actors are supposed to get physical-" you grumble, swatting at her clammy hands. she cries and cries, blood all over her clothing and her face covered in tears.

"please! please! h-he's chasing me a-and i-i"m so s-scared and i don't want to d-die—" her voice cracks a dozen times as she sobs into your chest, pulling you closer and closer until you both are pressed together like lovers. you squirm in discomfort, not liking how personal she was getting. you were pretty sure scare actors weren't supposed to cross boundaries like this.

"okay, please get off me." you hiss sharply, gently pushing her away. she sobs more and shakes her head, silently begging you to listen to her. she can barely utter out any words, limping in pain with several stab wounds under her clothing.

she pales as she looks behind you. you turn hesitantly, not wanting to turn your back to this crazy lady. you see the reflection of a shrieked mask, making you flinch and hug the girl in your arms.

“okay, uhm, you guys are very good at your job—“ you chuckle nervously, hugging the girl tightly. she was shorter then you, her head tucked into your chest. she was trembling so much. you frowned.

“are you.. okay?” you asked hesitantly.

“he STABBED me!” she shrieks, aggressively tugging at your hands and showing you her stomach. right there laid a gigantic bloody wound, blood dripping down onto her skirt. your face paled even more and you stood there like an idiot, face to face with this girl who had a gigantic stab mark.

“o-okay— okay— let’s get, let’s get out of here? okay? you’re safe with me,” you shush her gently, helping her walk as you hurriedly pull her alongside you. you lead her to the entrance of the maze, backtracking your pathway. you mostly just followed the bloody hand marks from earlier, though.

the next few minutes is a blur. you’re helping her down the stairs, she’s crying and hyperventilating, you’re freaking out because the blood is looking too real and the creepy music in the background isn’t helping. your heart is pounding and you don’t know what to do.

as you help her down the stairs, she grasps onto your shirt with a terrified look, tugging you. “h-he’s following us!” she screeches. you blink at her for a moment, frowning in fear and not looking where you’re stepping. you open your mouth to respond to her, only to step on air. you send the both of you stumbling down, a scream leaving her as the hard wood digs into her wounds.

you gasp sharply, squinting your eyes to clear your blurry vision. you turn to your side to check on the terrified blonde, only to gape in shock at the sight of her limp on the floor. her eyes are lazily fluttering open and shut, the blood from her gut spilling out. the impact had made her wound deeper and probably set her on the waiting list for the afterlife. and it was all your fault.

“h-hey— hey- hey—“ you choke out, getting up and hurrying to her, patting her face and trying to get her to respond. your hands are full of blood as you inhale deeply, your heart about to jump out of your chest. she looks up at you with all the strength she has, lips moving weakly.

"b..behind you." she whispers.

your heart stops. you blink down at her pale face and slowly peek over your shoulder. down the hall is a tall man in a robe, a white glowing mask on his head. the fog surrounds him as he tilts his head at you, silently watching. you couldn’t see his eyes but goosebumps immediately spread all over your body, making you squirm in discomfort. he didn’t look like a scare actor. no, he looked like the black blur you’ve been seeing all day.

his hunting knife was covered in blood, and that was all you needed to know before you broke out into a sprint in the opposite direction of him. the hallways were closing in on you as you rushed down towards the back door, the screams of the girl echoing throughout the house. you could hear the knife slashing at her, making your eyes water in fear.

you didn’t want to die. no, you were too young! too pretty, too kind, too— you hadn’t even graduated yet. you still wanted to earn your bachelor's, go out on more dates, and get more friends. but no, you couldn’t anymore, because you were about to get butchered by some psycho in a halloween costume.

your sweaty hands pulled and tugged at the door handle, blinking away the tears. you sniffled, your heart somehow dropping further down into your stomach as the door didn’t budge.

“awww, no no sweetie, you’re stuck in here with me. they already shut down the entire park.” you hear his menacing voice coo from behind you. it was dark and deep, a mockingly soothing tone. maybe it would of lulled you to sleep in any other situation. it sends shivers down your spine and a hiccup leaves your throat.

“who are you? why are you doing this?” you mumble hesitantly, your voice small in the gigantic house. he tsk’s at you, waving his knife in a wagging motion at you.

“no, you don’t get to ask questions, sweetheart. you’re a dumb little bitch who got involved in things that didn’t concern her.” he growls darkly, stepping closer and closer. you back to your left and rush behind the couch, shaking. he laughs at your pathetic attempt at getting something in between you two.

“why would you kill her?! is this some sick prank?!” you snap, some tears streaming down your face as he simply shrugs. shrugs.

“what the fuck.” you whisper at him, the sight of her blood all over him making you sick to your stomach. as if you could drop to your knees and vomit. you might, actually.

before you can react, he jumps over the couch and grabs you. you scream as he shoves you face first into the couch, quickly straddling your body. you thrash underneath him, sobbing and shaking your head, letting out incoherent mess of please don’t kill me and i’ll do anything. he’s slightly annoyed by how loud you are. should be cut your vocal records so you don’t gain attention? but then again, no one is near by. no one to hear your pretty screams except him.

his heavy knife glides alongside your spine, his hand only applying light pressure. you hear the sound of your dress getting ripped and more tears slip, your lips quivering as you squeeze your eyes shut. you shiver as the cold air brushes against your back, the back of your bra being revealed to him. what a day to wear your favorite set, right?

“look at you, dressed like a god damn slut. you wanted this, didn’t you?” he hissed, hooking one of his fingers underneath the clasp and snapping it against your skin. he chuckled lightly at your girly squeak. your hands squirm some more and he huffs in annoyance, grabbing them and shoving them above your head.

“keep them right there, got it? you move them and i’ll cut your wrists open, stupid girl.” he bonks the back of your head hard. you yelp and nod, shaking as you hold your hands together tightly above your head just as he asked. more soft cries leave you as he pulls the back of your dress further apart, goosebumps all over your porcelain skin.

“why are you doing this?” you force the words out of your throat, leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. it might be blood.

“because i can.” he hums simply, running his fingers down your spine. his hands unclasp your bra and slip it off your body, and you squirm as your nipples press against the scratchy fabric of your dress. you quietly mewl into the couch.

“you don’t need to do this. i-i have money— not much, but i have some,” you beg desperately, trembling as his large body presses you more into the cushion. you felt like you were getting suffocated. you were so overwhelmed and scared, covered in blood and getting stripped down by the reason.

“you think i need your money?” he scoffs, shoving his hands uder your chest and groping your breasts. you squeal hard as he meanly fondles and squeezes them, his large hands covering a lot. his fingers pinch your nipples, causing you to whine loudly into the couch. you can’t help that they harden right away, your body becoming more sensitive to his touch. moans start to slip from your throat as you feel his knee lodge itself between your thighs.

he roughly grinds his jeans fabric against your panties, your skirt lifted and showing the lewd sight of the thin fabric sticking to your messy cunt. the denim material of his jeans is rough and hard, applying a good enough amount of friction to lubricate you further.

little moans leave you involuntarily, trying your best to muffle them by biting down on your bottom lip. your thighs squirm and attempt to close, but it only ends up trapping the man’s knee against your pussy. more rubbing has you crying and moaning, subtly grinding your pussy back onto him. he, of course, notices and swats the back of your head again, your moans stuttering.

“look at you, getting off on this shit.” he whispers into your ear, leaning down so his chest is against your back, his mask is pressing against your head. his hands don’t stop their assault on your breasts, marking them up with hard pinches and twisting your nipples until you're begging him to let go. “i didn’t expect you to be such a down bad slut.” he sneers.

“s-shut up..” you sniffle, your voice muffled and your body covered entirely by his robe. if someone walked in they’d see a small girl getting completely smothered by some dude in a halloween costume. this couldn’t be any more embarrassing.

"s-shut up." he mocks in a high-pitched voice, giving an extra harsh twist to your nipple. he gets harder at the sound of your pained cry. he smiles creepily under the mask as he presses his large hand to your panties, rubbing your clit through the thin soaked material. your body squirms at the feeling of having your sensitive core played with, rubbing your wet face against the cushion in a weak attempt to wipe your tears.

"dont touch me— no, not there- stop!" you gasp desperately, whimpering into the cold air as he keeps rubbing your clit and touching you right where it feels so good. the savory sensation had your lips parting subconsciously and your thighs inching away from each other. you're ashamed of the way you're enjoying this, how you're begging in your head for him to slide his fingers nice and deep.

"i can feel how wet you are, damn. you must really want me to ruin this little cunt of yours, huh? gonna beg?" he sniggered, sliding his fingers underneath and letting the small brush of his middle and ring finger against your hole be all you feel. his eyes are burning through the back of your head, inhaling each movement and sound you make, analyzing your reactions and how you take his touch.

"m'not gonna beg. i'll gonna beg for you to get your dirty ass hands off me—" you're interrupted by him sliding his two fingers deep inside you, immediately curling them painfully into your g-spot. the pleasure takes you so off guard you let out a pathetic mewl, bucking your hips in surprise. his free hand comes down on your waist, holding you down into the couch as he fingers your pussy open roughly.

"what was that?" he hums, pushing them impossibly deeper, scraping the rough fabric of his gloves against your walls and making you cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain. "I'm sorry, did you say something?" he said in a sick tone. he was having so much fun, it's not everyday he gets to fuck his victims. most of the time they're too annoying and he finds himself hating their guts personally after hearing the colorful words they call him.

more little moans leave you as he makes scissoring motions, his grip on your waist bruising and making you hiss softly in pain. his fingers are large and taking up all the space inside you, making you feel so full and satisfied. it felt so good, so good that you were sick to your stomach at how much you were enjoying it. you could feel her blood coating your skin, making you gag softly on your moans as he kept going.

soon enough, you bite back your loud moan as your body cums all over his fingers, coating his gloves in your essence. he rubs the sticky fluid between his fingers with a chuckle of amusement, watching as the blood and cum mix together.

“you’re a filthy slut, you know that? ive killed soooo many people,” he starts, humming softly as he pushes the bottom of his robe aside to unbutton his flip, revealing his dark boxers. the large bulge is visible as you peer over your shoulder with a heavy breath.

“separated families,” he continues, talking in an innocent voice as his hands grasp at his cock. his top springs against his lower abdomen, nice and big with a thick base. you gulp nervously. “ruined lives—“ he coo’s sickeningly sweet.

“and now i’m gonna ruin yours.” he grabs your hips, position his tip against your hole. he gives you barely a second to process his words before he slams himself deep inside you, causing you to shriek and press your face down into the couch.

“a-ah~ s-stop.. wrong..” you blabber cluelessly, your brain all soapy and spilling out of your ears. your body felt weak and limp, giving into his touch as he gave a few shallow thrusts, your moans giving him more encouragement.

“wrong?” he mocks, one hand grabbing your hair roughly to pull at it. you shriek at the harsh tug, your head forced back as he starts to rock his hips at a mean pace. “for someone who hates this, you’re awfully wet and compliant.”

you feel his hard denim slap against your butt each time he sends a punishing thrust into your pussy, more moans streaming out of you. your eyes are fluttering shut as he batters your insides, mouth agape with drool forming at the edge. the sight was slutty— a young girl with her dress all ripped up and her skirt lifted getting fucked by halloween enthusiast.

“feels so good,” you hiccup, sniffling your fat tears as your doe eyes tried their best to stay open, squinting through the tears. your breasts bounce and sway, bubble butt jiggling at his thrusting. he wasn’t letting back on you, not at all.

“you want me to make you cum, sweetheart? hmmm? you want these hands that’s stabbed dozens of people to rub that tiny clit of yours?”

“please.” you say in such a pathetic tone that he can’t help but obey, his hand on your hair letting go to reach under you and gently tap your clit, his pace not stopping for a split second.

“this right here?” he pinches. you whimper and nod, shaking. he snickers and rubs figure eights into your bud, the immediate reaction of your body tightening up on him making him hiss sharply.

“jesus fuckin’ christ, girl. tight ass pussy, huh?” he gives your butt a hard smack. you whine at the impact, cock drunk and not processing a single thing anymore. he focuses on making you climax and grabs your hip tightly, holding you still as he starts shoving his cock as deep as it can go.

your noises grow more high pitched, letting him know he was on the right path. he can feel himself grow harder and more stiff, about to be pushed over the edge. incoherent curses and grunts leave him as he tenses up behind you, still rubbing your clit hard as his cock explodes inside you. his cum paints your walls white, groaning as he fucks you harder.

he feels you clamp down and release as well, a loud sigh leaving you as your body goes limp, your ass being held up by him being the only thing not flat against the couch. the second he lets go of your hips, it drops onto the couch. you groan weakly, cum all over your thighs and dripping down onto the couch.

he stares at your ruined form a few seconds, debating on wether he should stab you now and make a run for it. but then he remembers his dna is currently painting your insides and he sighs. he wipes some of the cum off your leg and fingers it back into you, your caught off guard squeal giving him some motivation to keep you alive.

“shut it.” he jabs the last of the cum into you before parting, patting your butt and smoothing your skirt back down. he glances at your purse that was hanging off the side of the couch, thrown off you at some point, and grabs it. he finds your wallet inside and peeks at your id, blinking at your name. he makes sure you’re not looking(you’re too busy being half conscious face down) and takes a quick photo of your address and number as well as your pretty body under him.

pulling away, he makes sure to tell you one last thing. he roughly grabs your hair and yanks it back, awakening you immediately from your daydreams. you shriek and blink terrified at his bloody mask, eyes blinking widely in shock.

“tell anyone about this and i’ll kill your entire family and force you to watch.” he then proceeds to list your entire name and address, making you gape at him like a dumb puppy, clueless on how he had this information.

“y-yes- yes!” you nod, sniffling with your watery eyes. he gives a condescending pat on the cheek before disappearing down the hall as if this never happened. you lay there on the couch confused before hesitantly getting up and shivering as cold air brushes against the back of your ripped dress.

“uhmmmm….. hello..?” you call out awkwardly to the hall. you peek and see him standing over the blondes dead body, about to grab her by her ankles to assumingely drag out the back door. he stops to stare at you wordlessly.

you frown and motion to your ripped dress. his reaction takes a few seconds to happen but he eventually grabs the hoodie off the dead girl and throws it at you aggressively. you jump and catch it, cringing at the blood and stench. you fucked a murderer and now you have to deal with the consequences.

“thanks.” you choke out before running out the back door. he rolls his eyes at you before continuing to drag the dead body out.

it had been a few days since the incident. he had been haunting your thoughts, making you wonder what the hell was wrong with you to let yourself get fucked by a serial killer.

you had decided to search him up and attempt to find out who he was. all you found out was that there were killings in the near by towns that all linked the one name— ghostface.

you sat on your couch with your feet up on your. coffee table, laptop open on your lap with a dozen tabs open. each tab was a different articles about him, some about his killings, other about the mysterious surrounding his identity. no one had a real idea on who he was or what his motive was— only that he was a force to be reckoned with.

your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar name being said on the tv. you look up and your heart drops as you see her blonde hair and bright blue eyes stare at you from across the room. there she was— on the tv, smiling innocently. her full name was below the photo of her sitting with her friends and her age.

rebecca garcia

age 19

found dead behind halloween horror nights amusement park, her body cut up and put in several bags. she was stabbed repeatedly in the stomach before eventually dying by the hands of the local serial killer, ghostface.

your stomach turned inside out as you maintained eye contact with the photo of the happy girl. the news reporter shared how the town would be on high alert the next few weeks, alerting us of keeping our doors locked and keeping your eyes out for any suspicious behavior. the report ended with a god bless apology to families.

the silence that followed after was deafening, your heartbeat being the only thing you could hear. your palms felt too clammy and the couch was too rough, your clothes pricking at your skin and your eyes welling up with tears. everything felt too real and too close.

the sound of your phone ringing broke the silence, making you flinch. you peered over, blinking through the tears as your shaky fingers picked up your phone and brought it to your eyes.

you frowned in confusion at the unknown number, sighing gently before picking it up and bringing it to your ear. before you could open your mouth, the voice of your nightmares spoke.

“what’s your favorite scary movie, doll?”

[optimumsigns]

Brookfield, WI – Custom Exterior LED Channel Letter Sign for ASCGT

No this isn’t a blog about the tree. Our customer was the American Society of Gene & Cell Therapy. What do they do you ask? The American Society of Gene & Cell Therapy (ASGCT) is the primary membership organization for scientists, physicians, professionals, and patient advocates involved in gene and cell therapy. Their mission is to advance knowledge, awareness, and education leading to the discovery and clinical application of gene and cell therapies to alleviate disease—they do that by serving as a catalyst to transform medicine by advancing gene and cell therapies to benefit patients and society. That’s a mouthful.  These folks are solid people that do great work.

One of our customers brought us into the project to assist as they have done work with us and were very happy with our work. Referrals are critical to our business.  We started with their logo.  We also started with the property owners as they have a standard for these signs.  Our contact gave us the details and we were able to design to those standards and present ASCGT with a design we knew the building owner would approve of.  We also pulled the municipal standards for this property so we could ensure that the sign design would be approved by the municipality.  We did have to present our design to the design and review board for final approval.  After about 15 minutes in front of the board, we had our permits.  This is where it gets interesting.  Our fabricator put the sign into production and completed the fabrication on Tuesday. They got the UL certification on Friday and moved the sign to the shipping warehouse.  Less than 24 hours later the fabricator’s manufacturing facility was consumed by fire.  The entire facility was burned to the ground, except the warehouse.  The papers from the UL certification were still sitting on top of the sign after the fire!  WOW!

If you need any type of customer business signs in the metro Milwaukee area, please give us a call. We can be reached at 262.439.0912 or emailed at info@optimumsignswi.com. We would love to assist in your business sign project from start to finish.

[uglypastels]

the Special | Sanji x reader

a/n - my first One Piece fic. absolutely terrifying but definitely a needed change of scenario to get out of my writing block. please be kind; I'm taking all my inspo from the live-action as that is what I am currently the most familiar with. but, well, we just have to see how it goes. bon appetite

Shoutout to my dear @mydearzero for encouraging my newfound obsession with this show and this character, as well as generally encouraging me to write. this is all your fault. And to everyone else who had been expecting me to finally post one of the other million fics I had promised... I'm sorry

And kind reminder that reblogs is what makes tumblr work. Please, if you enjoyed the story, reblog

word count: 9.9k

warning: 18+ only. MDNI. smut. piv sex. oral sex (f!receiving). unprotected sex [wrap up your eggplants yall]. semi-public sex. several FDA regulation code breaks, probably. afab reader. swearing. little bit of angst. shitty and fat-shaming [oc!]boyfriend/date. fist fight. alcohol consumption.

“Look at your waiter's face. He knows. It's another reason to be polite to your waiter; he could save your life with a raised eyebrow or a sigh.”

― Anthony Bourdain, 

The first thing you saw was the red, bright sign spelling out the restaurant's name.

Baratie. You had no clue what it meant but could only hope that “the best restaurant in the East Blue” was somewhere down the list of its definitions, especially after the months that they had kept you on the waiting list and the tumultuous trip that it took to sail there. Next, as your ship approached, you saw the… fish head. The sight of the sculpture at the front of the ship structure buried some worry in the pit of your stomach, but surely, if so many people had given it such fond reviews, the exterior was not to speak for what awaited you inside. 

‘Believe me, baby, you’ll love it here.’

‘I really hope so,’ you smiled as you got off your boat. Your legs shook at the knee as you stepped onto the sturdy dock planks. Days at sea, which had never been your friend, had clearly done more damage than you expected. You would have been on the floor if it wasn’t for the pair of arms holding on to you.

‘Thanks, Chosi,’ you said towards your boyfriend as he helped you steadily get back onto your feet. 

‘Can’t have you faceplant the second we get here,’ he brushed some invisible dust off your shoulder, and with his arm entwined with yours, he led you to the entrance of the establishment. You grabbed at the skirt of your dress to keep it down as the wind blew by.

As you walked, you looked at all the other ships harboured on the… was this an island? Was the entirety just one large ship? Was it anchored to something then, or was it drifting around the seas constantly? You couldn’t quite comprehend the logistics of it all. But you could tell that humans and other creatures of all walks of life–royalty, commoners, marines, pirates—were unbothered by each other's presence and enjoying the outing. Once inside, the shushed sound of the waves was exchanged for a whisper of swing music, as well as the chatter of the restaurant’s patrons and the clinking of their cutlery on plates. The walls were lined in crimson wallpaper as well as painted depictions of sea battles, accented in gold and bronze details matching the furniture placed spaciously around the room and the two stories above it that lead the eye to a beautiful aquamarine ceiling that gave the illusion as if one was looking up at the bright sky from underwater. 

The maitre’d, a Fishman, stood to attention at your entrance. 

‘Good afternoon, how may I help you?’ he asked kindly. 

‘We have a reservation. Name is Chosi,’ Chosi stated with his head held high. Despite you doubting that anyone knew his name in these parts of the world, he never ceased to pronounce it with a level of expectation to it. It was commendable, as well as disappointing, when nothing happened afterwards. The maitre’d simply nodded and glanced down at his long list of names, searching for the one he had just heard, ready to cross it off.

 ‘Ah, yes, right here. Please, do follow me to your table.’ And so, you did just that, walking down the grand staircase onto the restaurant's main floor, where you seated at one of the smaller tables, perfect for a romantic dinner for two. ‘Your waiter will be right with you.’ The Fishman bid you farewell just like that and returned to his position at the door. 

‘So?’ Chosi looked at you with a raised brow as you looked around.

‘It is quite stunning.’ You must admit that you did not expect this kind of splendour when looking at the carved fish that gaped at you outside. Something about that just did not exude the same essence as the timeless and classy beauty of the interior. You barely even felt the shake of the waves beneath you. 

Maybe your response wasn’t sufficient, for Chosi had opened his mouth to respond, something in the angles of his face announcing displeasure, but he was interrupted by a new presence at your table. You looked up at the tall figure towering over you. 

‘Welcome,’ the man spoke, his accent clearly indicating his origin if only you had been aware of where that was. Simultaneously, he put down a plate of bread rolls, perfectly and meticulously positioned atop it. ‘...to Baratie. My name is Sanji; I will be your waiter this afternoon.’

‘Took you long enough.’ Chosi mumbled under his breath, giving you an immense urge to kick him underneath the table, but you knew better than to do that, especially when he did not seem to be ready to stop any time soon. ‘Trying to convince my girl this place is worth visiting, heh.’ You could feel your cheeks burning up in embarrassment. Nevertheless, the waiter—Sanji, he said was his name—did not seem to give the comment much thought as he looked down at you with a curve to his thin-lined lips.

‘My apologies, madame; I hope my service will not give you the false impression of this establishment being worth any of your precious time.’ The smoothness of his voice almost concealed the true meaning behind his speech, leaving you, as well as your date, speechless. However, you felt your speaking ability to be taken away by more than just his words as you spared a second to take your waiter in properly. You just could not help but notice how his suit wrapped around his arms, and although one was covered by his blonde hair, his eyes had a glint of something that excited you despite not even knowing the root of that excitement. 

Like nothing had happened, Sanji continued, ‘Would you care to see the menu? Hear the specials?’ That is when you noticed the menu cards he was holding in his hand. And he must have been ready to list the special items, but Chosi was a step ahead. 

‘Actually, I think we are ready to order.’ That was the first you had heard of it, but you stayed put as he continued. After all, Chosi had eaten here before. He knew what was good, and you could trust his judgement. 

‘Prime rib, medium rare,’ as your boyfriend spoke, you kept your eye on the waiter, noticing the appearance of the smallest of flinches in his face at the sound of the dish, but never faltering his picture-perfect appearance, ‘and my lady will have the salad.’

Another twitch, right below his visible eyes, followed, but Sanji’s professional facade stayed on as he inquired: ‘We offer quite a variety of salads; which would madame prefer?’ And with that, he turned to you, that smile plastered on like a sticker, but he had trouble keeping it on as the answer to his question did not come from your mouth.

‘Whichever is the best, of course.’ Chosi rolled his eyes, and you wished you could do so as well. The waiter glanced between you and him, turning back to you momentarily. Long enough for you to give him a reassuring smile. It would be in everyone’s best interest if he just moved on from the matter. 

‘Drinks, then,’ Sanji again spoke with an unphased essence about him, as if nothing from the past few minutes had ever occurred, or at least tried to emulate this. ‘Madam, anything I can get you?’ The way he emphasised that word didn’t require any pointed glares. 

‘Uhm,’ you hesitated as he kept his full attention on you, completely ignoring the man sitting opposite you at the table, making Chosi stare at you just as, if not more, intensely, for all the opposite reasons. Out of panic, you just blurted out the most straightforward order. ‘Just water, thank you.’ It being the first words you said in the waiter's presence, they came out soft. Nothing like your regular voice, which startled you slightly. 

‘Still, sparkling or mineral?’ Sanji pursued. 

‘Still please,’ you smiled shyly, unsure where that actual shyness derived from. 

‘Ice? Cubed or crushed?’ He fired the questions at a rapid pace.

‘A bit of ice is fine. Thank you,’ you repeated yourself, looking down at the table and letting the waiter move on to the rest of the order. He didn’t say anything else but looked at Chosi with anticipation. 

‘I’ll have your finest brew.’

‘Coming up,’ his voice had a sudden coldness to it as he walked away, back to the kitchen, leaving the table to a thick silence. 

‘I could have ordered for myself, you know,’ you said, with that same soft tone you had spoken with earlier, although this felt much more familiar seeing who you talked to. 

 ‘And have you stuff yourself with some useless carbs? C’mon, you know I’m just looking out for you, here.’ 

‘I know.’ You straightened out a fork in front of you, suddenly feeling uneasy at how far away from the plate it was positioned compared to the knife on the opposite side. You were straightening out a crease in the tablecloth when Sanji returned with a silver tray in one hand. He placed the pint glass full of golden brew in front of Chosi before turning your way and setting a glass beside your plate. With a pair of tongs, one by one, he let ice cubes fall to the bottom of it, the clinking against the glass almost deafening. Then, he followed up with another pair of tongs and reached for a little tray but stopped himself to ask you: ‘Care for a slice of lemon, madame?’

‘Oh, uhm, sure,’ you shrugged, unable to look away. This process of pouring a glass of water felt rather extensive, but you could not deny the fact you were enjoying it all. As he grabbed the large pitcher to pour the water, you were unsure how he had carried all of these items with one hand and did so seemingly effortlessly.

‘There we go,’ he smiled, ‘your food will be with you shortly, but do let me know if you require anything else.’ And just like that, he was gone again, but not without leaving you feeling that he had meant his parting words especially for you and that that sentiment had undoubtedly not escaped your date.

‘I don’t like the look of that guy.’ Chosi glared at you as he took a sip from his pint, slurping up the top layer of foam with it. 

‘I think he’s quite sweet.’ You straightened out the fork again and reached for a bread roll to tear it apart piece by piece. 

‘Of course you would,’ he rolled his eyes, which made you look up from your little snack.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ You put the bread roll down as the pit in your stomach hollowed out your appetite. Right, making space for that damn salad.

‘Nothing.’ Chosi shrugged, ‘Just that it's typical that somehow I’m the only one to notice when some guy is trying to cop a feel.’

‘He was doing no such thing.’ You had to bite your tongue not to raise your voice as his insinuation, despite being on the waiter's actions, seemed to be brutally judging yourself. ‘The poor guy is just doing his job. I’m not bothered by it, and neither should you be.’ Usually, you would attach some sweet nickname at the end of that sentence, but this was one too many times you had said a variant of the confirmation, and you were growing tired of just the thought of it.

Somewhere in the distance, a table erupted into a shouting match that had to be broken up by a handful of waiters. While usually, you turned away from such brutalities, never having been fond of violence and not particularly having a necessity in seeing people getting their teeth punched out minutes before eating a meal, this time you stretched your neck out to glance across the room, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of the white-blonde hair among the rousing heads. Someone had pulled a pistol, but the weapon was kicked out of the man's grip before they could shoot or even alarm people enough to hide beneath their tables. Just like that, the restaurant resumed its normal state of pleasantries, and you got back to your abysmal date and hoped it was still worth saving… or that saving was still even an option to begin with. 

‘From what you had told me about the place, Chi, it is much grander than I had expected.’ You smiled, and he nodded to your affirmations.

‘Well, I didn’t want to raise the expectations too high, but you know I don’t do anything but the best for you, sweet cheeks.’

‘Of course—’ you were interrupted by the footsteps nearing your table, and the weight nearly lifted off your shoulders at the sight of Sanji carrying too large plates. 

‘Hello there,’ he grinned slyly, ‘hope I don’t interrupt anythin’.’ 

‘Not at all,’ You moved your glass aside to make space for your dish, but Sanji put Chosi’s plate down first, announcing the food.

‘Prime rib, medium rare, for the gentleman.’ Like everything else, he precisely placed it so the gold details on the plate faced the diner exactly right. The roast glistened in the restaurant's dim light, and the smell hit you right at the nerves that reminded you of your hunger. But that was for the gentleman, and the gentleman had ordered for you the—

‘And for the madame,’ Sanji put a plate in front of you, ‘what I like to call the Sanji Special.’

You looked down at your plate of food with a stunned expression and then looked back up. Just in time, you caught the slight wink that your waiter had sent you before stepping back to then, with a nod, say, ‘Bon appetite.’ 

He got to take about three steps and had just turned his back towards your table when Chosi called out to him, clearing his throat. ‘Ehem, excuse me, Sonny.’ 

‘Is there a problem?’ Sanji returned with his hands behind his back, but you didn’t need to see his fists to know he was clenching them. It was all visible in the strain of his upper arms and jaw as he restrained himself to keep up a polite smile. 

‘I am pretty sure we had ordered a salad?’ Chosi tried to play it off with a casual laugh, but it turned out to be anything but. Sanji leaned forward to grab the plate, but then your boyfriend exclaimed, ‘No, not for me; for her.’ before the waiter got his hand on his prime rib.

With a satisfied smile, Sanji glanced at your plate and stated: ‘That is a salad.’

Not that you did not appreciate what was in front of you, but if it was a salad, it was the loosest interpretation of the definition possible. You had to keep your laugh in as he explained that the dish was a “twist on kensui salad with steamed components, egg, and pork” or, in your simpler terms… the most delicious-looking pot of ramen you had ever encountered in your life, but no, definitely not a salad in the traditional sense. You smiled at the food, not daring to look up at Sanji while your boyfriend’s head seemed to be boiling alive, but the waiter was a step ahead of you. 

‘Ah, almost forgot, for the lady,’ almost out of nowhere, he made a pair of chopsticks appear for you. 

‘She will not be eating that,’ Chosi grunted. 

‘I think that is for her to decide,’ Sanji didn’t even bother to look at him, keeping his sweet smile on you, which, in turn, rushed a hot flush over your cheeks. 

‘Chosi, don’t be like that; this looks delicious.’ You spoke, hoping he would calm down and let you finally sink your teeth into this gorgeous meal. After a tense second, Chosi finally huffed out and sank back down in his chair, making you realise he had been on the verge of getting up for whatever reason. Either way, his intentions could not have been good. In the meantime, Sanji excused himself once more to finally leave you to eat. 

You had perhaps taken half a bite when Chosi, his food untouched, spoke up again. ‘Why do you always do this?’

‘Do what?’ your throat tightened around the pork you had just swallowed.

‘Embarrass me like that?’ He sighed, a vein in his forehead looking more prominent than ever.

‘I didn’t—’

‘Cut the shit, you know what you’re doing.’ Chosi slammed his fist on the table, startling you and the few people sitting at the nearest tables to you.

‘Please, can we not do this now,’ you kept your head down, ignoring all the pairs of eyes that must have started catching on to what was happening. Chosi had turned red from anger by that point. 

‘What, am I being too much for you? Imagine what it’s like going out with a slut—’

‘Chosi!’ you snapped, immediately covering your face with your hand as if you had not meant to shout and grab the attention of even more people. 

Deep breath in. 

Out. 

‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ You hissed at the man across the table from you. 

‘With me? You’re the one that has been eyefucking the waiter this whole time, and now you disrespected me like that in front of him? Do I mean so little to you?’

‘I did no such thing.’ You rolled your eyes, catching glimpses of the room you were in. The people that sat around, the employees. Of course, Sanji stood only a few tables away, taking an order. Could he hear what was happening? Most likely, the idea of that burned you in a new, much more unpleasant manner. Chosi must have said something, but you had been too occupied by your surroundings and too tired to even listen to what other vile things he had to tell you. The only thing that kept you at that table was the food, but no matter how good, it wasn’t worth enduring him. ‘You know what,’ you grabbed your napkin and slapped it onto the table, ‘I can’t do this right now. I’ll see you on the boat.’ The chair shrieked as you shoved it back.

‘Where the hell do you think you’re going,’ Chosi growled practically, and despite you having already turned your back to him, you heard his own chair scrape the deck floor. You had your eyes squeezed shut as you got ready for what was coming. He reached out, but nothing happened. 

You looked over your shoulder to see Sanji pulling Chosi in by the sleeve. 

‘Believe me, we don’t wanna do that, mate.’ Sanji said, his eyes filled with a new rage that made you take a step back.

‘Let go of me, you sleaze.’ Chosi suddenly reminded you of a feral kitten, how he tried to wriggle himself out of the waiter’s grip. ‘I’ll make you regret ever touching me. Do you know who I am?’

‘Do I look like I give a shit?’ he let go with a laugh, almost pushing Chosi to the ground. As your date dusted off his sleeves, Sanji took a step forward, pressing himself against him. Now that both men were standing face to face, did you only realise how much taller Sanji was than your boyfriend. How much bigger and, most likely, how much stronger. With a hushed and reserved tone yet somehow full of intimidation, the waiter said, ‘Don’t you ever try to touch or speak to a woman like that again, you hear me? Or I’ll make you regret you were ever born.’ 

Chosi could only nod with his eyes blown wide open. The restaurant was dead quiet, unable to pull their eyes away from the scene unfolding before them. No one said anything or moved, and yet, somewhere, a stack of plates fell. The crash of porcelain echoed through the space, and Sanji turned his attention toward the kitchen’s double doors for a second. That quick moment was enough for Chosi to find his moment and attack.

Or at least make an attempt at it. 

Sanji was still looking toward the kitchen, and Chosi’s fist was in mid-air, but the waiter flawlessly manoeuvred around it, swinging himself back and letting Chosi fall forward. To make matters worse, Sanji supplemented the fall by kicking him over. If it wasn’t for the fact that your boyfriend’s chin had smacked against the table, you would have missed the entire thing, as Sanji’s movements were so elegant that it seemed as if he had not moved at all. He might as well have been refilling your water, ignorant of the groaning mess of a man he had kicked down to the ground with such ease. 

Chosi got up shakily. A nasty cut was already dripping blood from the underside of his face, but the redness didn’t compare to the rage on his face. He looked around until his eyes caught yours. ‘What, you’re just gonna stand there like some dumb–’

‘What did I just say?’ Sanji said, this time much louder, not trying to hide the row from the rest of the diners. But before he could make another move, Chosi reached for the nearest thing he could reach, which in his case was your dish of ramen, and threw a fistful of noodles Sanji’s way, hitting him square in the chest. 

Silence. 

He must have been too stunned at the audacious strike to move out of the way for it. Everyone must have been watching the noodles unstick from his navy jacket and slowly fall to the ground, then watched as Sanji raised his head back up, his expression unamused and cold, but his eyes filled with a passionate and furious fire. One that was enough to live up to the promise he had made the man you had come to the restaurant with. And so, just like that, without another word needing to be said by anyone, you watched Chosi back away—one, two, three steps, whimpering and mumbling some comments that could almost make up an apology, before he sprinted up the stairs to the exit. 

‘Ridiculous,’ you heard Sanji mutter under his breath. ‘Fucking waste of food.’

Before you could think any better about it, you walked up and knelt down, as he did, to reach for the spilt noodles. ‘I am so sorry,’ you started apologising. ‘I swear normally he–’

  ‘Is exactly like that,’ Sanji chuckled with a rasp. You looked up at him, a bit dumbfounded. He had managed to scoop most of the food before you had and was already getting up. ‘You have nothing to apologise for.’ One of his colleagues had been quick with bringing over cleaning supplies. ‘If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. Let me make it up to you—a drink in the bar, on the house.’

‘No, that is really not necessary.’ You couldn’t accept anything for free after your boyfriend pulled off such a scene and… had run off without paying. The realisation hit you like a brick on the head as you cursed under your breath with a strong sense of panic, which Sanji caught on to immediately. 

‘Please,’ He reached gently for your arm. ‘I insist.’

You stuttered for a moment before actually answering in defeated agreement. With a satisfied smile, Sanji led you to another exit, leading to the bar deck. ‘Right this way, madame.’

The bar deck, located in the mouth of that giant fish head, was moderately empty. Except for you and the appointed barman behind the counter, only a handful of others were sprinkled across the couches and futons. You chose a seat overlooking the sea and the setting sun that coloured the sky and waters an array of warm colours. 

You understood that you had to go up to the bar to order, but you felt no particular need for it, just enjoying the breeze that brought over the calm sea air towards you. 

It was unclear how much time you spent sitting out there, looking at the waves splashing by and the clouds above you and the people around you. Only once the sun had set entirely, darkening the sky completely, and most people had left the area, you decide to finally walk up to the bartender and place an order. The man nodded and proceeded to make your drink with only a few attached flourishes to the craft, but the result was charming and tasted delicious.

‘I hope I had made it clear that that was one drink on the house,’ you heard from behind you. 

‘Don’t worry, this is my first.’ You said, turning around to see Sanji standing behind you. 

‘You might just be the slowest drinker I have ever met,’ he said as he took the spot by your side.

‘Jeez, do your manners flush away the second you’re off the clock?’ You smiled, taking a sip of your drink, most likely also proving Sanji his point as the sip you took was particularly small. 

‘For what it’s worth, madame, I was about to tell you that your bill has been taken care of.’ He leaned against the bar countertop with his forearms. ‘But I will make myself scarce now.’

‘No, wait,’ you stopped him before he could push himself back. ‘What do you mean it was– I would have happily paid. At least let me leave a tip.’ You were ready to pull out your purse when he took his turn to halt your movements. 

‘I will not be accepting any tips for my service today. And honestly, you barely had a meal to eat, let alone to pay for. It is all taken care of. I promise.’

You looked up at him apprehensively, but something about his–not necessarily laidback–but how he was so comfortable with the situation put you at ease, too. But something was gnawing at your conscience. 

‘Alright then, but I disagree with the review of your service. You most certainly need something for it in return.’ How could you repay the man who had just gotten you out of your horrific relationship? You doubted anything in the world could match your actual gratefulness. Although, maybe the smile that pulled at Sanji’s lips said something different.

‘Let me cook for you.’

‘What?’ You blinked slowly, making him smile even wider.

‘You haven’t eaten anything proper in hours. Let me make you something in the kitchen–an exclusive guest experience.’

‘That doesn’t sound much like a gratuity for you.’ You pointed out, but he did not seem to mind.

‘Indulge me,’ was all he responded with. Feeling giddy at the prospect, you glanced over at the bartender, who was definitely listening in on the conversation. Understanding what you meant with your look, he simply shrugged while wiping the glasses. 

‘Ok then.’ This entire thing felt utterly ridiculous, and you didn’t hide the amusement you felt from it as Sanji opened the door to the kitchen for you. That is when your smile lightly faltered, only to be replaced with a fallen jaw as you looked around in amazement. Like the dining area, this room had a high ceiling but wasn’t decorated as much as simply visually enhanced by all the bronze pots and pans hanging around, and the pipes leading from the ovens and stoves up to the chimneys. There were long lines of prep stations, behind which one Sanji comfortably made himself at home as he immediately got started on something.

The first few minutes, after you watched him exchange his suit jacket for a white chef’s uniform, you were occupied with the kitchen itself, but once you had gotten used to the environment, you wondered where you could make yourself equally comfortable as not a nuisance to him as he cooked. 

‘Make yourself at home, sweetheart,’ he said while chopping some ingredients at a speed that made your heart skip a beat in fear. Or did that come from the new nickname that caught you by surprise? 

‘What happened to “madame”?’ you walked closer to his station. Sanji just looked up briefly, eye covered by his hair but his smile evermore present. Your smile lasted longer as you forgot you had meant to look at what he was doing, not to stare at him. Noticing he was not planning on answering your question, you asked another. ‘So, what exactly are you making?’

‘Since I’m sure dinner did not turn out entirely as you had planned, I thought maybe dessert would be a good pick-me-up. Rose and chocolate meringue tartes, how does that sound?’

  ‘Makes me wonder what I did to deserve it,’ you laugh it off while speaking the question that had been on your mind this whole time. 

‘I like to show a lady how she’s meant to be treated,’ he said as he poured several ingredients into a glass bowl and began wicking at a pace that should have stopped him from looking so effortless long ago. ‘It’s all part of the special package deal.’

‘Right, the Sanji Special, was it?’ You looked around at the countertop next to him, which seemed free from ingredients and anything you could set on fire. You glanced his way, and he swiftly nodded your way. With that permission in mind, you pushed yourself up on the counter, swinging your legs lightly back and forth. ‘So what exactly does this special indicate?’

‘A nice meal, a little surprise, a few kind words, nothing too crazy. I would like to think that, with it, I have perfected the recipe on how to eliminate shitbag boyfriends like that prince charming you came here with.’

‘My knight in shining armour.’ You rolled your eyes, hiding how much you appreciated all his actions from that day. ‘Must have worked on quite a few girls then?’

‘Can’t say it has,’ he said as he pushed the oven open to prebake a few tartelette frames. The speed at which he worked truly was otherworldly. 

‘Can’t because of a bad success rate or because you hadn’t actually tried it before?’

He appeared next to you from beside the oven; tiny droplets of sweat were forming at his temple, but his energy was still burning like the fire under the pot where he was melting the chocolate. ‘Let's say the latter. For both our dignity’s sake.’ It did not come as a surprise to you that he was a flirt and most likely tried these tricks out on the entirety of the female clientele, and yet, for reasons unknown, you did not mind one bit, and it still did not seize to make the smallest of his advances work on you with tremendous effect. 

‘Don’t think I have much more of that left after  everything that happened out there.’ You cringed at the memory of the shouting, the mess, and just how many people had been sitting there watching you. 

‘There’s been much worse out there, believe me.’ Sanji lowered the fire under the pan lightly.

‘I hardly believe that. He threw noodles at you. That is absolutely revolting behaviour.’ And somehow, you managed not to get kicked out of the restaurant along with Chosi but even got to hang out in the kitchen after hours as a special dessert was being prepared for you… by the waiter that your boyfriend had tried to assault— no, that your ex-boyfriend tried to assault. That felt much better, but still didn’t let the whole situation make any more sense.

‘And that wouldn’t even make the top ten of shit that’s happened around this place.’

‘I… am not sure wether to be relieved or disappointed.’ For an inexplicable reason, you thought you would be more memorable to him. However, would you have wanted that, seeing the actual circumstances under which that would be? Ugh.

As if he could read your mind, Sanji added in. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not planning on forgetting you anytime soon.’

‘I bet you say that to everyone.’ You rolled your eyes, to which he just smiled. ‘But really, I am sorry for what happened—especially to your suit.’

‘I care more about the noodles, honestly, don’t like seeing food go to waste—’ he drifted off with his thoughts before coming back up to the surface with another question, ‘speaking of noodles, where’d you meet this guy anyway?’

‘It’s complicated,’ you sighed, not wanting to burden him with your story, but from the eager attitude he was conveying as he managed his ingredients, he did not hold the same sentiment over it. ‘We had been friends for ages—out dads worked together—and it seemed, to everyone, apparently, like the natural progression of events that we would end up together.’

‘Everyone… except for you?’ he assumed, looking up at you from the counter space.

‘No, I mean, at first I thought so too, but over time… well, you saw it yourself. But by the time I had realised what a mess I had gotten myself into, it felt like I was already too late.’

‘How so?’ You heard the gentleness in his question like he was treading the topic lightly, not wanting to put any pressure on it or on you to answer. 

‘Heard people talking he had been planning to propose.’ You shrugged it off. ‘But I doubt that will be happening anymore.’

‘What are you going to do now?’ The question came with that same carefulness but perhaps a bit more intrigue. You simply shrugged again.

‘Will probably have to find another ship to get back home on, as I can’t imagine he would want me on board with him.’ It was crazy you had not bothered to check but assumed that he had already taken off hours ago, leaving you behind to fend for yourself. ‘And then, if I see him again… well, not much else I can do but officially dump his ass.’

‘So I shouldn’t feel bad for what I did?’ He stopped what he was doing as he waited for an answer.

‘Absolutely not. I can’t thank you enough for doing that.’ 

The both of you shared sheepish smiles before you watched him work silently for a few more minutes. The tarte frames came out of the oven in a beautifully crisp golden tone, and he mixed the chocolate into a thick mousse while the rosy syrup lay back to cool off. While the two of you remained quiet, the kitchen was anything but that as his utensils clinked around the pans. You thought back to a few hours ago and how the silence at your table had been anything but this. You had sat in a cold dread, waiting for something to snap until it inevitably did. However, you sat back comfortably here, happily watching as Sanji focused on his work. 

It really was his element. While you thought the man had been exemplary at waiting tables, it was nothing compared to the ease at which he performed here. Each move he made seemed like second nature to him. 

‘Do all the waiters here know how to cook like this?’ you inquired, leaning in to see how he filled the pastries up, hands in a tight grip on the piping bag. 

‘The ones that are cooks do,’ he chuckled. 

‘You’re a cook?’ you blinked, ‘then what were you doing out there earlier?’ 

‘Ah, the old shitbag that runs this place likes to torture me and send me off to do the waitin’.’ He readjusted his hold on the piping bag, briefly stopping to wipe his hand on the towel tucked between his belt. 

‘Doesn’t that bother you? I’m sure you’d much rather work here.’ You certainly would. Some people could be real assholes to serve… your former date being a prime example. But Sanji simply laughed it off.

‘Nah, not when beautiful women are out there waiting to be served.’ He stopped to look up at you with a shit-eating grin, and the unseriousness dripping off of it made you blush, smile along with him and push him back by his shoulder before you would do something else much more irrational. Perhaps a bit too hard, as he lost his balance, only finding it on the counter, exactly where the piping bag had been left behind. His palm fell right over the ending, bursting out the mousse in an unfortunate mess, spilling all over him and the counter.

‘Oh no,’ you said, covering your mouth but not the giggles from it, ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘You think it’s funny, don’t you?’ He couldn’t keep his smile, but you shook your head harshly. ‘You’ll pay for this,’ he pointed his hand, covered in chocolate, at you. Several thoughts ran through your mind initially, but you managed to suppress most of them, opting for simply running your finger over the back of his hand where most of the mousse had spilt and giving it a taste. 

‘That is really good.’ you hummed at the sweetness. Sanji stood back, somewhat frozen at what you had done, but quickly thawed out with a few blinks.

‘Well, what else did you expect?’ He wiped the rest of his hand on the towel at his side, ‘and I’ll have you know it’s rude to eat the food before it’s done. Takes away from the experience.’

‘I’m sorry,’ you pouted, ‘but I promise you I am still very much enjoying this whole experience.’

‘You better.’ Sanji said, taking the baking tray and putting it back in the oven for the last few minutes. With the oven door shut, he sighed and leaned against the counter opposite you. ‘Now we wait.’

‘How long exactly?’

‘In a rush, are we?’ He glanced at you from behind his hair, and the question made you heat up in the face. Because how could you explain to this practical stranger that you were feeling the opposite of what he insinuated. That you did not want this night to end at all. That being here with him, even if you were just waiting for a damn tart to bake, you were having more fun than you had had in weeks, if not longer. So, all you did was simply shake your head again. 

‘It will be just a few minutes, and then gotta let it cool for a bit.’ He reassured you. That is when you noticed the bowl he had mixed the mousse in, mostly scraped clean while filling up the piping bag, but even the best chef can’t always scrape every last ounce out. Now, you might not have had any particular urge to leave any time soon, but you certainly were hungry, and having tasted just how delicious Sanji’s food was, you couldn’t help but lean in to get another little taste. 

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He said, bemused, reaching to stop you from taking another swipe of mousse onto your finger. His hand gently grabbed your wrist, but he had been too late. When he caught you, you had your hand directly over your lips, looking up at him. He glared down at you in a daring manner. 

You licked the chocolate off yourself as innocently as possible without bursting into laughter. 

‘I can’t believe you’d do that.’ He took a step forward, nearly closing the gap between you. The presence of his body, so close to yours, almost touching, reverberated off of you with warmth, and suddenly, you felt the breath you had taken to be stuck in the back of your throat. ‘Did you not listen to anything I just said?’ His breath was hot against your skin, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought it was a direct source of the skip in your heart. 

‘Of course I did.’ You ignored the fast beating of your heart and the feeling like it might just burst out of your chest as you took him by the arm to give you some space and let you slide down the counter back onto your feet. ‘Something about experience and…’ you slid out from between him and the counter, and as you did so, swooped by the bowl of mousse with your finger one last time. ‘I forgot what else.’

‘You are unbelievable,’ Sanji reached for your hand, but you were quicker and manoeuvred around him and from his arm’s reach. Taunting him with the mousse, you walked around the work counters, and he, happily playing along, followed suit. 

Like children, you ran around the kitchen, with him not far behind you, trying to catch you until he finally did, picking you up by the waist. Unintentionally, a squeak of a shriek came out of you, followed by both your laughs. You kept on laughing until you heard something outside the door. Heavy footsteps, freezing you both in your place until they moved on by. That is when you noted the time. Hours past midnight.

‘Are we even allowed to be in here at this time?’ You whispered as if the person who had walked by would suddenly be able to hear you.

‘Of course,’ Sanji said with confidence, but his expression juxtaposed this with signs that you could only read as “absolutely fucking not.” chances were that if you were caught in the kitchen at this time of night, you would be shot on the spot by, what did Sanji call him, the old shitbag.

But before you could run away in fear of getting caught, it was Sanji’s turn to take you by surprise. As you stood in his arms, he leaned in and wrapped his mouth around your finger, sucking all the chocolate right off. You could feel his tongue move down your knuckles and back up until he released it, leaving you stunned and wide-eyed. 

‘I thought it’s rude to eat a dish before it’s done,’ you managed to sputter out. 

‘So you did listen,’ he smiled, ‘but you might want to know that a good cook always tastes their dishes in the process, and that… was delicious.’

‘Are you always this humble about your cooking?’ Your heart was basically in your throat at this moment.

‘Wasn’t talking about the food,’ his tone was deep, sultry, as he leaned closer. ‘But care to give me another taste?’

Your breath was officially hitched in your throat, unable to breathe properly, as you stared at him, body flooding with heat and need for him. As words escaped you, you nodded lightly and leaned in as he did the same, meeting your lips in the middle with a kiss.

As soon as it happened, his arms found their spot on your side as you fastened yourself on his shoulders. It was nothing like you expected it to be. For a man spending his entire nights and days in the kitchen, he felt nothing like it. You could smell the cologne, taste the cigarettes and the fresh mint he used to conceal the former. His tender but firm touch held you in your place as he pressed closer.

There was a force to it, but nothing that you didn’t feel in yourself to copy as the need for him boiled deep inside you. 

Your hand moved slowly up to his cheek, over to his hair at the nape of his neck.

One of his hands, in the meantime, had found your thigh, pulling it up over his leg as he squeezed your soft flesh, but before giving you a chance to even react to this new position and all its implications, Sanji moved.

Pulling apart, leaving your lips to be the last piece he detached from as he kept your bottom lip between his teeth lightly, he apologised, ‘Excuse me for a moment.’ because while you might have forgotten all about the world around you, he had still been keeping track of the tartelettes that were baking down in the oven. 

He pulled the tray of pastries out with a white tea towel, practically throwing it down on the counter, discarding it with a metal clang.

‘Now we wait for them to cool,’ he explained as he got back to you.

‘And what were you planning on doing in the meantime,’ you pulled him back in by the blue ascot tie. 

With his lips ghosting over yours, he half-whispered, ‘I might have a few things in mind,’ and with it, kissed you again. While the kiss itself was not much different, with that same intensity and passion running through both of you as before, now you were very much aware of what was to follow. If it wasn’t your need that spurred you on, then it was Sanji and his eagerness. Despite his chef’s uniform and the navy apron, you could feel him grow harder against you as the kiss continued. A moan escaped you as his lips travelled down to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses one by one until he reached a spot that was more sensitive than others. The simple touch sparked a fuse inside you.

As he continued playing with your sensitive skin, he led both your bodies to one of the empty tables at the side of the room, pressing you right against the edge and locking you in between it and him.

Without needing him to say a word, you understood exactly what you needed to do and climbed on top of the table, spreading your legs to make space for him right in the middle. 

Your dress might have hiked up slightly over your thighs, but it wasn’t enough for Sanji, who took it upon himself to pull it up. 

‘I hope you don’t mind me saying’,’ he smiled as he kissed the corner of your mouth and as his hand reached the top of your leg, ‘but I had been thinkin' about this ever since I saw you.’

‘Me too,’ you exhaled deeply, letting the confession sink in. Maybe Chosi was right after all. Now, with him out of the picture, you could admit that something had been there from the start, from the moment you caught a glimpse of the waiter cook. And if it wasn’t for all the shit that occurred that day, maybe you would have felt a twinge of guilt as you guided Sanji’s hand between your legs. If you had not shut that chapter behind you, perhaps you would have felt bad, but any insecurities of that disappeared as Sanji began to toy with your core. His slender fingers grazed slowly over your slit, putting enough pressure on it to make you arch your back in need of more. 

‘Already so needy,’ he smirked. ‘And I barely touched you.’

‘Touch me then,’ you said with gritted teeth.

‘Don’t need to tell me twice.’ His fingers moved up in pace and barely went any deeper, keeping you on the edge of satisfaction. ‘And what would madame like me to do?’ He threaded his movements, and you were growing impatient with the teasing.

‘Fuck me,’ ready to hear his next question, you added, ‘I don’t care how.’

His grin only grew wider at your words. Much to your dislike, he pulled his hand away to place both at your thighs, pressing his fingers into your skin and using that as leverage to make more space for himself in between.

‘As madame wishes.’ He spoke softly right below your ear as he descended onto his knees. 

The kiss he left over your panties already invoked a tremble through your entire body, and it only got worse from there, in the best sense. He pushed your underwear aside and took his time giving you all his attention and care. Kissing your core deeply until his nose pressed up against you. His tongue licked up your juices like a starving man until your eyes rolled back, and you felt weak. 

The table you were perched on was empty, so you only had Sanji to hold on to. At first, you reached for his shoulder, but it was just not high enough for you to find support. As you tried to look for it, Sanji reached for your hand and brought it up to the side of his head for you to tangle your fingers in his light locks. Before you even managed to grab onto them, simply letting your nails trace over his hair, you felt the vibrations of his moans strike you. Another deep blow to your senses pulled you further down to the edge. Closer and closer until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your grip on his hair tightened as your breath grew sporadic. 

‘Fuck, fuck,’ you moaned, voice filled with desperation for a release, and one that Sanji would be more than pleased to give you… just not quite yet. As he pulled away from you, you deflated with the feeling of a ruined climax and the urge to pull him back to finish what he had started, but all you could do was whimper in protest. 

‘Don’t worry,’ he kissed your knee softly, ‘all in good time. I promise to take good care of you,’ and with that, he rose back up to his feet, untying his apron.

‘That was good,’ your chest still moving up and down heavily as you caught your breath. ‘Really good.’

‘It pleases me to hear that,’  he said as he threw the apron aside onto the ground. ‘And believe me, I would love to go back for seconds—’

‘Does all your pillow talk stem from restaurant jargon?’ you interrupted jokingly. 

‘You laugh, and yet you’re the one begging me to fuck you.’ God, he was so cocky, with the way he stood there in front of you, his head tilted sideways, and his lip turned up in a grin that told you he knew he was right. ‘So, please, let me.’ His hand was already on his belt buckle. 

There was no time or need for either of you to undress. With your dress hiked up to your hips, he already had easy enough access, and once his belt was loose, it only took a few sharp pulls for you to release him from the material restraints. 

‘You ready?’ he asked.

‘For the love of god,’ grabbing him by the arm, you pulled him in, ‘stop talking and just take me.’ You knew he was about to respond, but before he got the chance to make another absurdly silly but nonetheless flirtatious comment, you shit him up with a kiss. Just like that, the two of you melted into one another. Sanji made himself comfortable between you and let his lips wander down to your neck again, to that one spot he found that drove you crazy. 

He kept kissing your neck as he finally slid into you. The two feelings made your body go weak, melting you into a puddle of burning nerves as he spread your walls and filled you up perfectly. 

First, he moved slowly, but with each thrust, he sped up more and more, putting more force into it until you were both shaking with ferocity, and the table underneath you scratched over the planks it stood upon. The sound of the tortured floor was the only thing covering up both your moans and that of the messy skin-to-skin contact. 

While he practically pounded into you, you reached for his hair again. There was just something about it: how messy you managed to make it with a few tugs and brushstrokes. All of it, how he acted and reacted, it was all in response to you. Just how he made you see stars with each move he made. 

‘Feels so good, fuck,’ he groaned over your shoulder as you grabbed for his, pulling him closer if possible. He had your legs pressed against his sides. He shook his head quickly, letting the hair flick out of his sight, but the attempt was poor as the lock quickly fell back over his eye despite his efforts. 

‘San–’ you moaned, ‘Sanji–’ 

‘That’s right,’ he might as well have been kissing you, so close were his lips to you, but instead, the only thing you truly felt was his hot breath on your skin as he kept going deeper and harder. ‘Gonna come for me? His voice got even deeper the longer he kept going. At the sound of it, your nails dug into his back, his striped shirt being the only thing saving him from possibly some nasty scratches, but it seemed to only spur him on more. ‘I–’ you gasped out as you felt him hit the deepest part of you.

‘Yeah?’ 

‘I’m close, fuck.’ the pit in your stomach tightened, your muscles strained as you tried to hold on to that feeling of pleasure he brought over you. The tension built up like a band being pulled tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment; he had you in his grip, waiting to let go of you at the exact right time. All you needed was that touch, just the right one in the right spot. 

You could feel it all. Could feel just how close he was himself as his thrusts got sloppier, and his breathing grew heavier and rougher between his words. ‘Yeah, c’mon. I know you can do it. Come all over my cock. ‘’s gonna feel so good, I promise you.’

The encouragement might not have been necessarily what did it. It was more like a concoction of things that all led to this precise moment when ecstasy overtook your body and washed over you like a hot flash. Sanji was not far behind you, riding his high as he ensured you got to yours. His movements slowed down as you felt the cum slick down your thighs. While you both caught your breath, it became quiet once more. 

It took you a bit longer to catch up on air in your lungs, and so while you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, you heard Sanji zip his trousers back up and lightly walk across the aisle between the workstations. When you opened your eyes again, he was making his way back to you already, a handful of paper towels in his hand. 

Despite the burn you already felt in your sore muscles, you spread your legs one last time to give him access to clean you up. His soft touches to your sensitive core now were in stark contrast to what he had been doing to you moments ago, but the cold of the damp towel brought a nice sense of comfort. 

‘You think you can stand up for me?’ he asked gently, and the little words in that tone were enough to make your heart flutter. 

‘Yeah, I think so.’ You said, but that was quickly proven wrong when your knees buckled almost immediately when your feet touched the ground. It was only because of the way that Sanji held your arm that you had not completely toppled over. 

‘Woah, alright.’ He smiled, never letting go of you, ‘How about we just sit for now.’ Slowly, he guided you to sit on the ground, back against a cabinet. ‘Water?’ 

You nodded in agreement. The question had made you realise just how parched you were.

‘Still, sparkling, mineral?’

‘Surprise me.’ You said through a tired smile at the reference to how he waited on you earlier, but moments later, you reminded yourself of your preference, ‘just not sparkling! It just tastes foul.’ 

‘Anything but sparkling water, coming right up.’ He moved around the room to pour you some surprise water, and while he did so, you pressed your face into your hands, laughing at the absurdity of it all. Less than 12 hours ago, you had been walking up the deck, arm in arm, with your good-for-nothing boyfriend, soon-to-be fiance. Now you sat on the ground of a restaurant kitchen, with no idea where said–now ex–-boyfriend was in the world, coming down from one of the best orgasms you had ever received… all by the hand of a stranger. A handsome stranger at that. One that you could imagine seeing much more of in the future, but it was all just too silly. 

And you were tired. And hungry. 

‘Voila,’ Sanji appeared in front of you with impeccable timing, a large ice-cold looking glass in one hand, filled with ice cubes and cucumber, and two plates in the other hand. The rose and chocolate meringue tartes look particularly inviting. ‘Thought you might finally want to try one,’ he said as he handed you a plate and fork.

‘I swear, you’re a godsend.’ No matter in how much need you were of a drink, the sight of the dessert made your mouth water. 

‘Ah, just a little something sweet for—’

‘If you’re going to say what I think you’re going to say, I will shove this tarte in your face.’ One could only endure so much of this sappy flirting, even if you found it very endearing. Sanji shut his mouth and sat beside you, poking his fork into his portion.

The two of you ate quickly but still took enough time to appreciate the flavours that oozed out of the pastry and its filling. The moan you made as it all reached your tastebuds might have been more pornographic than any sound you made while he had been deep inside you. 

‘Mmm, this is delicious,’ you said through another bite. The praise brought a huge smile to the cook���s lips. ‘Seriously, thank you. For everything.’

‘It’s been my pleasure,’ he spoke in a way that almost made you think he was getting shy on you. That felt unlikely, but you let him process it all for a moment as you kept eating. 

Only once you had eaten everything off your plate did you ask your next question of the evening. ‘How did you know I would like this?’

‘It’s a chef’s best trait,’ he pulled the fork out of his mouth with a pop, ‘to be able to read their customers well. To be able to tell what they like or dislike; to know them better than they know themselves.’

‘But how?’ With intrigue, you moved closer to him. He had been leaning against the same cupboard as you, one of his knees raised up and an arm hanging casually over it. His hair was still messy, falling over his eye. ‘How could you tell I would enjoy this specific dish?’ 

The one unobstructed eye fell over you, looking up and down over your body as his mischievous smile reappeared. ‘It felt fitting.’

‘How so?’ You blinked, confused as to what he meant.

‘Sweet, decadent and hot; what’s there not to like? I mean—’ he leaned in over his arm to kiss you, feather-light. Then, he hummed as he pulled back. ‘It is an absolutely divine combination.’

Your cheeks burned up for what felt like the millionth time that evening, and you could not dare keep looking at him as he stared down at you with that innate hunger. That kind that could only be filled with one thing, and it just so happened to have wholly exhausted you. 

‘Is this still all part of that special of yours?’

To this, Sanji shrugged, ‘Depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On how long you want to keep me around.’ He scraped some leftover mousse from his plate, licking it off his fork.

‘I think for a while,’ you admitted. Yeah, you definitely hadn’t had enough of him yet. 

‘Well, then there’s so much more I can do for you, madame.’

the end

thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging and commenting-either through the comments, in a reblog or through my inbox <3 to hear your thoughts on my writing means the world to me and really is a huge help in motivation to keep going.

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[urdreamydoodles]

Could we get some headcannons on how X-Men characters would deal with an s/o who struggles with verbal communication? (I was thinking someone who just struggles with words but they could be deaf or mute as well)

Like instead of talking they use notes, or gestures, or even actual sign language to communicate. I was thinking it’s usually done when the reader is struggling to ask for something directly, or just convey what they’re thinking.

(I wasn’t sure if you’d want specific characters to think of or if you’d want free rein, but I’ll list a few of my favourites; Wolverine, Nightcrawler, Gambit, Storm, Morph, Magneto, Beast)

X-Men x Reader

You struggles with verbal communication

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe, Morph, Erik Lehnsherr, Hank McCoy, Jean Grey, Rogue, Cable & Wade Wilson

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- You’d been living at the mansion for a while, and while most people understood your struggle with verbal communication, Logan didn’t seem to get it at first. He wasn’t rude about it, but his gruff nature often led him to misinterpret your gestures. “What, you can’t just spit it out?” he’d ask, crossing his arms. You’d roll your eyes and scribble something on a notepad, sliding it over to him with a sharp look. He’d grumble but take it, slowly realizing how much effort you were putting into every interaction.

- Logan started paying closer attention over time. He noticed how your hands moved when you gestured, how your eyes flicked to certain objects when you wanted something. He wasn’t the type to ask outright, but he started observing quietly, learning your nonverbal cues like he was piecing together a puzzle. One day, you found him practicing basic ASL signs in the corner of the library. “Figured it might make things easier,” he said when you caught him, scratching the back of his neck.

- He surprised you by using those signs during casual conversations, albeit a bit clumsily at first. When you were struggling to ask for help one day, he simply signed, What do you need? It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to bring tears to your eyes. “Don’t get all weepy on me, kid,” he grumbled, handing you a tissue. Still, the small smile tugging at his lips showed he was proud of himself.

- Logan’s protectiveness shone through in unexpected ways. If someone gave you a hard time about not speaking, he’d step in with a sharp glare that could silence a room. “Got a problem with how they communicate?” he’d growl, leaving no room for argument. You never asked him to defend you, but his unwavering support made you feel seen in ways you hadn’t before.

- Over time, the two of you grew closer. Logan’s patience, hidden beneath his rough exterior, was a balm to your insecurities. One evening, after a particularly long day, you handed him a note that read, Thank you for understanding me. He read it silently, then looked up at you with an intensity that made your heart race. “Ain’t nothin’ to thank me for,” he said softly. “You’re worth the effort.”

- The shift from friendship to romance was seamless. Logan wasn’t one for grand declarations, but his actions spoke volumes. He started carrying a small notepad for you, just in case you ran out of paper. And when he kissed you for the first time, it was tender, unhurried, as if he was trying to convey all the words he knew you struggled to say. “You don’t need words with me, darlin’,” he whispered against your lips. “I get you just fine.”

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy was instantly intrigued by your quiet nature, his curiosity piqued when he saw you using gestures and notes to communicate. “Mon cher, you always this mysterious?” he teased with a charming smirk. At first, you thought he was just flirting like he did with everyone, but his genuine interest shone through when he started trying to decode your gestures without making you uncomfortable.

- He quickly turned your communication struggles into a game, guessing what you were trying to say with an exaggerated flair. “You tryin’ to tell me you hungry? Or you just wanna see ol’ Remy look like a fool?” he’d say, making you laugh silently. His lighthearted approach made it easier for you to relax, even when you struggled to get your point across.

- One evening, when you left a sketchpad on the table with a note reading, I’m not sure how to ask for help, Remy’s teasing demeanor softened. “Cher,” he said quietly, taking a seat beside you, “you don’t gotta be afraid to ask me for nothin’, yeah? I’ll figure it out.” His reassurance, paired with his playful charm, made you feel safe in ways you hadn’t expected.

- Remy’s natural adaptability shone as he started learning little tricks to help you communicate. He began carrying a deck of blank cards, writing quick responses or questions for you to use. “See? Now we both got somethin’ to write on,” he’d say with a wink, making the process feel less daunting. He even started teaching you French phrases, encouraging you to write them down when words failed.

- The moment things shifted between you two was subtle but impactful. One night, you handed him a note that simply read, I like you. His red eyes glimmered with mischief as he read it, but his smile was surprisingly tender. “Well, cher,” he said, leaning in closer, “guess it’s only fair I tell you somethin’, too.” Before you could respond, he pressed a soft kiss to your hand, his actions speaking louder than words ever could.

- Dating Remy was like navigating a whirlwind of charm and affection. He made it clear that he adored you, using every opportunity to show you how much he cared. From spontaneous gestures to quiet moments where he’d sit beside you, letting your notes and signs speak volumes, Remy proved that your unique way of communicating only made him fall for you harder.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt noticed your struggle with verbal communication almost immediately, his empathetic nature drawing him toward you. “You do not speak much, ja?” he asked one day, his tone gentle and curious. When you nodded, he didn’t press further, instead offering you a warm smile. “I understand. We all have our ways.”

- He quickly adapted to your communication style, finding joy in the way you used gestures and notes. “It is like learning a new language,” he said with excitement, his tail flicking behind him. “And I am always eager to learn.” His enthusiasm made it easier for you to open up, his patience and kindness making every interaction feel effortless.

- One day, you hesitated, struggling to express something important. Kurt noticed your frustration and gently placed a hand on yours. “Take your time,” he said softly, his golden eyes filled with understanding. When you finally handed him a note that read, I don’t know how to ask for help sometimes, he nodded solemnly. “You never have to worry about that with me,” he assured you. “I am here for you, always.”

- Kurt began incorporating small acts of reassurance into your daily life, like leaving you notes of encouragement or learning more ASL to communicate with you better. His joy when you taught him new signs was infectious. “Did I do it right?” he’d ask, his tail curling nervously as he signed a simple phrase. Your smile was all the confirmation he needed.

- The turning point came one evening when you handed him a note that read, I think I’m falling for you. Kurt’s eyes widened, and a faint blush colored his blue cheeks. “Mein Schatz,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.” He pulled you into a gentle hug, his tail wrapping around you in a protective embrace.

- Being with Kurt was like stepping into a world of unwavering kindness and affection. He made it his mission to understand you, to support you in every way possible. “You do not need words to tell me how you feel,” he said one day, his fingers tracing your hand. “I can see it in your eyes. And I will always speak for the both of us, if you need.”

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott was initially unsure of how to approach you. He respected your quiet nature but didn’t want to overstep. When he saw you using notes and gestures to communicate, he made a conscious effort to pay attention, his leadership instincts kicking in. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to make things easier,” he said one day, his tone sincere.

- He started picking up on your cues quickly, his analytical mind piecing together patterns in your gestures. “You don’t have to rush,” he’d say whenever you hesitated, giving you the space to communicate at your own pace. His patience surprised you, his usually stoic demeanor softening in your presence.

- One day, after a training session, you handed Scott a note that read, I feel like I’m slowing everyone down. He frowned, shaking his head firmly. “That’s not true,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re part of this team, and we support each other. Don’t ever feel like you’re a burden.” His words were firm but full of warmth, his unwavering belief in you shining through.

- Scott began making small adjustments to accommodate your communication style, like keeping a whiteboard in the common areas or encouraging others to be more patient. “It’s not about how you communicate,” he told you one evening. “It’s about making sure you’re heard.” His support made you feel seen in ways you hadn’t before.

- The moment your relationship shifted was quiet but profound. You handed Scott a note that read, I care about you more than I can say. He read it silently, then looked up at you with a rare, soft smile. “I care about you too,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. The kiss that followed was tender, his hands cradling your face like you were something precious.

- Being with Scott meant being with someone who valued every part of you. He made sure you always felt included, never letting your struggles define you. “You don’t need to say a word,” he told you one day, his hand resting over yours. “I’ll always understand.” His quiet devotion was a constant reminder that love didn’t need words to thrive.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- Ororo was naturally drawn to your quiet strength. She noticed your use of notes and gestures early on, her sharp intuition picking up on how you often hesitated to ask for help. She approached you with her characteristic grace, offering you a kind smile. “You speak in your own way,” she said softly. “And I’d like to listen, if you’ll let me.” Her calm understanding put you at ease immediately.

- Ororo quickly adapted to your style of communication. She never rushed you, instead waiting patiently for you to finish writing or signing. “Take your time,” she’d say whenever she noticed you struggling. Her respect for your pace made you feel valued, and you found yourself opening up more around her.

- One day, you handed her a note that read, I don’t know how to ask for what I need sometimes. Ororo’s serene expression softened, and she placed a gentle hand over yours. “You’ve already asked by sharing this with me,” she said. “Let me help you carry that weight.” Her words felt like a soothing balm, her unwavering support reassuring you in ways you hadn’t expected.

- Over time, Ororo began incorporating subtle gestures to show her understanding. She’d leave small notes of encouragement in places she knew you’d find them, or create gentle winds to carry your written messages to her during training sessions. Her actions spoke louder than words, and they reminded you daily of her care for you.

- The turning point came during a quiet evening in the garden. You handed Ororo a note that read, I think I’m falling for you. Her silver hair shimmered in the moonlight as she read your message, a radiant smile spreading across her face. “The feeling is mutual,” she said, her voice filled with warmth. She leaned in to kiss your forehead, her touch as gentle as a summer breeze.

- Being with Ororo was like standing in the eye of a storm—peaceful yet powerful. She made you feel seen and cherished, her understanding and empathy creating a safe space for your love to flourish. “Your voice is beautiful,” she told you one day, tracing your hand with hers. “Even if it’s not always spoken aloud, it still reaches me.”

Kevin Sydney aka. Morph

- Morph immediately took an interest in you, his playful nature making him curious about your quiet demeanor. “So, what’s the deal?” he asked one day, his tone lighthearted. When you handed him a note explaining that you struggled with verbal communication, his face lit up with excitement. “A challenge, huh? I love a good puzzle!”

- He made it his mission to understand your gestures and notes, often turning your interactions into a game. “Okay, charades it is!” he’d say, mimicking your motions in exaggerated ways that made you laugh. His humor took the pressure off, and you found yourself enjoying his company more than you expected.

- One day, you scribbled a note that read, I’m not good at asking for help. Morph read it aloud, then gave you a dramatic bow. “Lucky for you, I’m great at helping!” he said with a grin. Despite his joking tone, his sincerity was evident in the way he stuck around, always ready to lend a hand.

- Morph’s shape-shifting abilities came in handy when it came to communicating. He’d transform into a giant hand to mimic your gestures or into a cartoonish version of himself to make you laugh when you were feeling down. His creativity knew no bounds, and his efforts to connect with you were as entertaining as they were heartfelt.

- The moment things shifted between you was as spontaneous as Morph himself. You handed him a note that read, I think I like you. He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like he’d been shot. “I knew it!” he said, pulling you into a spin. When he set you down, his usual joking demeanor softened, and he leaned in to kiss you gently. “I like you too,” he said with uncharacteristic tenderness.

- Being with Morph was an adventure in every sense of the word. He made sure you never felt isolated, using his humor and shape-shifting to keep things light and fun. “You don’t have to say a word,” he told you one day, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I can read you loud and clear, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Erik was initially perplexed by your communication style, his analytical mind trying to make sense of your hesitations. When he realized you relied on notes and gestures, he was intrigued rather than dismissive. “An unconventional approach,” he mused. “But effective, nonetheless.” His curiosity made you nervous at first, but his lack of judgment slowly put you at ease.

- He began studying your gestures with the same intensity he applied to everything else, determined to understand you fully. “Communication is an art,” he said one day, watching as you wrote something down. “And you are a master of it, even without words.” His respect for your efforts made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t experienced before.

- One evening, you handed Erik a note that read, I feel like I’m a burden. He read it silently, his expression darkening. “You are not a burden,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You are resourceful, intelligent, and resilient. Never diminish yourself in my presence again.” His words, though blunt, were filled with an undeniable care that warmed your heart.

- Erik’s efforts to support you were both subtle and grand. He’d manipulate small metal objects to write words in the air for you or create intricate metal sculptures to convey messages when you struggled. His actions showed a thoughtfulness that contrasted sharply with his usual stern demeanor.

- The turning point came during a quiet moment in his study. You slid him a note that read, I care about you more than I can say. Erik’s sharp eyes softened as he read your words. He set the note down carefully, then reached for your hand. “And I care for you,” he said, his voice low and steady. His kiss was deliberate, filled with the kind of intensity that only Erik could bring.

- Being with Erik was like standing beside a force of nature—powerful, unyielding, and deeply protective. He made sure you always felt valued, his actions speaking louder than any words ever could. “You don’t need to speak,” he told you one evening, his hand resting gently on yours. “Your presence is enough.”

Hank McCoy aka. Beast

- Hank was fascinated by your unique way of communicating, his scientific mind eager to understand the nuances of your gestures and notes. “A fascinating approach,” he said the first time he saw you write something down. “May I inquire further?” His genuine interest made you feel less self-conscious, and you found yourself opening up to him quickly.

- He started keeping a notebook nearby, jotting down your cues and gestures like he was studying a new language. “It’s remarkable how much you can convey without words,” he said one day, his admiration evident. His encouragement made you feel proud of your communication style, rather than ashamed of it.

- One afternoon, you left a note in his lab that read, I feel like I’m too much work for people. When Hank found it, his brow furrowed, and he immediately sought you out. “You are never too much work,” he said, his voice filled with conviction. “If anything, you’ve taught me to see the world in a new way, and I’m grateful for that.”

- Hank’s support manifested in practical ways. He developed small devices to make it easier for you to communicate, like a digital notepad that converted your writing into speech. “A little invention of mine,” he said with a sheepish smile. “I hope it’s helpful.” His thoughtfulness left you speechless, your gratitude clear in the way you hugged him tightly.

- The moment your relationship shifted was as gentle as Hank himself. You handed him a note that read, I think I’m falling for you. Hank read it carefully, his blue fur bristling slightly as he looked up at you with wide eyes. “The feeling is mutual,” he said, his voice soft. His kiss was tentative but warm, filled with the quiet intensity that defined him.

- Being with Hank was like being wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and understanding. He made sure you always felt supported, his kindness and intellect creating a safe space for your love to grow. “Your voice is unique,” he told you one day, his hand resting over yours. “And I consider it an honor to understand it.”

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- Jean noticed your quiet demeanor and alternative way of communicating long before you realized. She often caught glimpses of your emotions through her telepathy, though she never intruded. When you passed her notes or gestured instead of speaking, she responded with patience and understanding, letting you take the lead. “Take your time,” she’d say softly, her gentle smile a constant reassurance.

- Jean quickly adapted to your style, finding ways to bridge the gaps in communication. She subtly enhanced your gestures with her telepathy, sensing what you meant before you could even fully convey it. “It’s like we have our own secret language,” she teased one day, her green eyes sparkling. Her ability to meet you halfway made you feel less alone.

- One day, during a quiet moment in the mansion’s library, you hesitated before passing her a note. It read, Sometimes, I feel like I don’t belong here. Jean’s expression softened as she read it, and she reached out to take your hand. “You belong wherever you choose to be,” she said, her voice filled with conviction. “And right now, I’m glad you’re here with me.”

- Jean began leaving small notes for you as well, little affirmations that brightened your day. “You’re stronger than you think,” one read, tucked under your door. “You don’t have to say a word for me to know how amazing you are,” said another, left with your breakfast. These gestures reminded you that she was always thinking of you, even in the smallest ways.

- The shift in your relationship came during a walk through the garden. You handed her a note that read, I care about you, more than I probably should. Jean’s face lit up with a radiant smile, and she reached up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Good,” she said softly. “Because I feel the same way.” Her kiss was gentle and warm, like sunlight breaking through the clouds.

- Being with Jean felt like basking in a calm, nurturing presence. She understood you deeply, both through her powers and her heart. “You don’t need words to express yourself,” she told you one day, her hand resting lightly on your cheek. “You’ve already said everything I need to hear.”

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- Rogue was drawn to your quiet, introspective nature. She was no stranger to feeling out of place, and when she noticed your reliance on notes and gestures, she connected with you immediately. “Ah reckon we’re both a little unconventional,” she said one day, her Southern drawl soft. “But that’s what makes us unique.”

- She made it her mission to understand your style of communication, often using humor to lighten the mood. “What’s this one mean?” she’d joke, mimicking your gestures dramatically. Her teasing was never mean-spirited, and her playful attitude made it easier for you to relax around her.

- One afternoon, you left her a note that read, I’m afraid people will get tired of me. Rogue’s gloved hand tightened around the paper, her expression shifting to one of fierce determination. “Sugar, if anyone ever makes ya feel that way, they’re not worth your time,” she said firmly. “Ah’ll never get tired of ya, that’s for sure.”

- Rogue’s physical limitations due to her powers didn’t stop her from showing her care. She’d use small gestures like slipping notes into your jacket pocket or brushing her covered hand against yours to reassure you. Her creativity in expressing her feelings mirrored your own, making you feel understood on a deeper level.

- The turning point came during a late-night conversation in the mansion’s common room. You passed her a note that read, I think I’m falling for you. Rogue’s green eyes widened, and she bit her lip nervously. “Ah’ve been feelin’ the same way,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She leaned in, her gloved hand cupping your cheek as she kissed you carefully, mindful of her powers.

- Being with Rogue was like finding a kindred spirit. She understood the challenges of feeling different and made sure you never felt isolated. “You don’t need to say a thing, darlin’,” she told you one day, her smile soft and warm. “Ah know exactly how ya feel.”

Nathan Summers aka. Cable

- Cable’s gruff exterior initially made you hesitant to approach him, but he surprised you with his patience and attentiveness. He noticed your preference for notes and gestures right away, his keen tactical mind quickly adapting to your style. “Communication’s about understanding,” he said once. “Doesn’t matter how you do it, as long as it works.”

- Despite his hardened demeanor, Cable showed surprising softness when it came to you. He’d take your notes seriously, his cybernetic hand carefully holding the paper as he read. “Got it,” he’d say with a small nod, making you feel heard and respected.

- One day, you scribbled a note that read, I don’t know how to ask for help. Cable’s steel-blue eyes softened as he read it, and he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to ask,” he said simply. “I’ll always have your back.” His words, though straightforward, carried a depth of sincerity that stayed with you.

- Cable’s actions spoke louder than words. He’d leave you supplies he thought you might need or subtly adjust his schedule to be around when he thought you might struggle. His protective nature made you feel safe, even without verbal reassurances.

- The moment your relationship shifted was quiet but profound. You handed him a note that read, I think I’m falling for you. Cable read it, his expression unreadable at first. Then, a rare smile crossed his face. “Guess I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” he said, pulling you into his arms. His kiss was firm yet gentle, a reflection of the man himself.

- Being with Cable was like having a steadfast anchor in a chaotic world. He didn’t need flowery words to show his care; his actions spoke volumes. “You’ve got your way of communicating,” he told you one day, his voice steady. “And I’ve got mine. Together, we make it work.”

Wade Wilson aka. Deadpool

- Wade was immediately fascinated by your unique communication style. “You’re like a mysterious, silent protagonist,” he quipped one day, leaning dramatically against a doorframe. “Do I get to be the comic relief in your story?” His lighthearted approach put you at ease, though his constant chatter sometimes overwhelmed you.

- He took your notes and gestures as a challenge, often exaggerating his responses to make you laugh. “Oh, I see what you mean!” he’d say, even when he clearly didn’t. His antics were equal parts endearing and infuriating, but his genuine effort to connect with you never wavered.

- One day, you passed Wade a note that read, Sometimes I feel like I’m too much. He stared at it for a moment, unusually quiet. Then he grinned and said, “Too much? Sweetheart, have you met me? You’re like the perfect yin to my yang!” His humor was disarming, but the sincerity in his eyes reassured you.

- Wade found creative ways to communicate with you, often using props, drawings, or even sock puppets to convey his thoughts. “See? Communication is an art form,” he said, holding up a poorly drawn cartoon of the two of you. His efforts were chaotic but heartfelt, showing you how much he cared.

- The shift in your relationship came during a quiet moment in his usually loud life. You handed him a note that read, I think I love you. Wade froze, uncharacteristically speechless. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he scooped you into his arms. “I knew it!” he shouted, spinning you around. His kiss was surprisingly tender, a rare glimpse of the man beneath the mask.

- Being with Wade was unpredictable but filled with joy. He made you feel understood in his own chaotic way, proving that love didn’t need to follow traditional rules. “You don’t need words,” he told you one day, his voice unusually soft. “I get you. And trust me, that’s saying something.”

[headlines-headlines]

NEVER-ENDING FOREST.

𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫! 𝐟! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

★ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲! Ubuyashiki sends you and Tomioka on an important mission. However, you both need to get... creative... to fulfill your task and make it back in one piece.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! female bodied reader, smut, intoxication (sex dust), fingering, pet name use (baby), rough + raw sex, creampie.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.3k words...

𝐚/𝐧: i had the bright idea of Tomioka turning into lowk a soft dom with the help of an aphrodisiac ;^). enjoy! (divider: @cafekitsune)

"Be well my children, please return to us safely," Master Ubuyashiki replied, dismissing the two Pillars in front of him to begin their journey down to the Garment District. 

"Yes master, of course," You answered, both you and Tomioka rising from your deep bows.

Currently, at the Ubuyashiki estate, you, [L/n] [F/n], and Tomioka Giyuu, were summoned by Master Ubuyashiki due to a troubling alert from a village near the Demon Slayer headquarters. The threat entailed a demon who wiped out several smaller villages nearby, each in the span of a night, simply with the ability to reduce multitudes of people into a trance-like state. This time, it found its way to a larger village crucial to the garment supply for the Demon Slayer headquarters, already devastating a handful of other closely connected communities. 

Many slayers were dispatched in earlier stages of the threat, but none have returned from their missions. The common result was dismembered slayers deep within the forest, or locals dropping dead to the ground from sheer exhaustion first, before being eaten unconsciously. Villages would report signs of a sweet-smelling scent and barely translucent fog emanating from deep in the forest, with even slight ingestion of it causing overwhelming heat and physical excitement. It was a tricky task, not only wiping out a notorious demon but fighting an invisible foe, its blood demon art. 

It was decided that two Pillars, close in rank would go investigate the issue and dispose of the threat immediately before the demon made its appearance by nightfall. Knowing you were already acquainted with your fellow Pillar, Ubuyashiki decided Tomioka's calm and calculated attitude complimented your quick initiative and undying drive. Over the past few months, you had begun to bring him out of his isolated shell. By befriending him, it led him to open up more,  having a noticeable effect on the other Pillars as well. Leave it to Light Pillar [F/n]'s radiating beauty, and soft, bubbly demeanor to finally melt his cold exterior. 

This was not the first mission the two of you have gone on, however. A similar, and even longer tactical mission preceded this one, so naturally, you held no qualms about working with Tomioka once more. He was super thoughtful and charming, albeit a bit quiet, but never gave you any glaring issues to worry about. Despite you both bumping heads from time to time due to your more extroverted personality, Tomioka came to appreciate the friendly dynamic you shared. 

Exiting the premises, your eyes pointed to the sky, watching both of your crows circle around each other before calling out to you, directing your path. At your side, Giyuu set a brisk pace while you matched him, turning back to wave a cheery "Goodbye!" to a few of the other Pillars gathered at the gate to send you off. 

You were prepared to complete your duty as a Pillar, ending the incessant destruction of the Smoke demon that hid in the forest.

• • • 

It was 30 minutes before midnight, the exact time when the first waves of translucent fog would start to seep into the village. After reserving temporary lodging, you and Tomioka had gone into the forest, listening for the hissing whispers that would urge locals and Slayers alike deeper into the looming trees and dense foliage. The demon would coax its victims into the darkness, promising their sweetest desires whilst intoxicating them with smoke. By the time they would reach the owner of the voice, it would be too late. The once straight path would become eternally long, with no discernible way out. One would have already lost control of their limbs and basic motor functions, unable to fight back, or even tear their eyes away from the horrifying sight of a ravenous demon.  

The plan was to entrap the smoke demon during its preparations to disperse the poison. The safety of the villagers came first, so eliminating the demon's ability to use its blood art was key. After locating it, you were to disable and behead the demon without casualties and make it out of the supposed never-ending forest. You and Tomioka concealed your breathing techniques in order to mask your presence, diving straight into combat from the shadows. You watched as the figure of a woman morphed into a creature built from the forest terrain. It was a disfigured humanoid shape, with vines slithering up her body, full of flowers you assumed held the contents of that sweet-smelling fog.  By catching it off guard, you were able to render quick slices with your blade along her limbs, severing not only the flowers but whatever body part was unlucky enough to be underneath. 

Your attack proved to be effective, but not without consequences. Instead of regenerating a new limb, the gaping hole swole up with a giant flower, shooting its mist directly into your face, and throwing you several meters back. Breathing it in so densely almost paralyzed your lungs from shock. You coughed and sputtered, as you hit the ground. Driving your sword into the dirt, you steadied yourself to rise to your feet, keeping a faint eye out for any further strikes, but watched as Tomioka swooped in to sever the newly formed appendage. It caught on, sending a few puffs of smoke his way as he effortlessly weaved between them, closing the distance. Finally finding an opening, Tomioka drove his nichirin sword into the shoulder of the demon, using his water-breathing form to slice across, effectively taking its head off its shoulders. However, hoping to make a grand exit, the demon's fallen limbs burst into smoke, shrouding the area with airborne poison before vaporizing. Tomioka had already taken a heavy couple of breaths before slamming his haori to his nose, trying to prevent further smoke inhalation. 

"Curse you Slayers... I would have torn apart your headquarters by now... if it weren't for your meddling swordsmen," The demon spat, choking bitterly from being beheaded.  

Her body began to burn and vaporize underneath the bright moonlight, the poisonous secretions from her skin dispersing into the air. There was soon nothing left of her, not even the long, extravagant, robes she adorned herself with.

Tomioka's chest heaved from fatigue, drops of sweat running down his temple. He watched sternly as all traces of the demon disappeared, before releasing a long exhale. It was now eerily quiet, the long assault finally over. You both had succeeded, protecting a village from total annihilation once more. 

Before getting a chance to celebrate, he felt a certain light-headedness seize him, forcing him to take a step back to regain his balance. The mist that was now vanishing had managed to up the temperature of the surrounding area by a few degrees. It was a little unnerving, but he realized you both would have to endure whatever effects may result from ingesting various amounts of the demon's blood art. It was non-lethal, with the worst side effect reported to be dropping unconscious. He would stay in close proximity to you for the rest of the night, deciding it was better to monitor your reaction since you took most of the damage.

Pulling himself together, he turned his attention to you in the distance. 

You stood several feet away, hunched over, unable to move as the stiffening heat encased every fiber of your being. 

Your knees buckled underneath you as you felt your body's heat intensify. There was a sinister warmth pooling between your legs and shooting up your spine. You knew it was too late to hope to reverse the demon's blood art, so you doubled down, deciding to bear it. You tried your best to steady your breath as you sank to the ground, your heartbeat hammering in your ribcage while the effects of the fog settled into your body. 

"[F/N]!" Giyuu's strained voice called out to you, regardless if you could hear him or not. He had missed most of the demon's final smoke attack, but started to feel his chest tighten at the sight of you on your knees, breathing heavily. He was nearly exhausted making his way over to you, but after seeing you ingest so much smoke, there was nothing more important in this moment than making sure you were okay. He would get you out of here safely if it was the last thing he did. Protecting you was the final part of his mission. 

It was then as if the temperature of the area skyrocketed. As Tomioka approached you, the air grew thick, and time slowed down as everything grew hazy around him. He could only really hear how hard he was breathing, and his focus was lasered in on your figure, wanting to make it to you as quickly as possible. As his footsteps grew closer, you hurriedly outstretched your arm towards him, aiming to halt his advances.

"No! Don't come any closer!" You cried out, panicking because you knew what was happening to you. This poison... resembled the effects of an aphrodisiac, however, almost hundreds of times more potent than a natural one. You didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of your fellow Pillar, the state you were in could put you both in a very compromising position. Regardless, Tomioka ignored your warning and pushed on, soon dropping to his knees with a 'thud' at your lefthand side.

"Are you alright?!" His sturdy hands came up to grip your shoulders, a worried expression all over his face. "Do you feel anything?" He questioned you. 

Your body felt hot all over, and his touches were scalding, you needed him away from you before it was too late. You tried to turn away from him, avoiding his eyes, but his grip was unwavering, holding you in place. 

"Get away from me. ...Please Giyuu," you quietly begged him, unable to explain what was making you so flustered. You brought a hand to his chest, slightly pushing him away to maintain your distance. A shade of pink dusted your cheeks as you felt his eyes scan your body, examining you so closely. 

"Not until you tell me what's happening," he insisted, suddenly fixated on the way your chest heaved as you took in deep breaths. 

"It's just, really, really hot," you half-lied. A light layer of sheen was starting to gather on your forehead, and you reached up to unbutton the first few buttons of your collar. 

"Here, take this off," He insisted, quickly reaching over to slide off your haori, and placing your sword with it on the ground next to you. His haori joined yours as he too, tried to escape the heat creeping up his legs, spine, and into his face and chest. 

You fanned yourself to no avail, closing your eyes to ignore the growing pulsating feeling of your nether regions. Taking off your haori proved to be useless, as you expected. You would do almost anything to relieve this maddening sensation all over your body and just prayed that Giyuu was in a better position than you right now. What good would it do if you were both like this? You couldn't help but let your mind wander, giving an inkling of attention to the idea of how you both could help each other out.

"I feel like... it's getting worse," Giyuu interrupted your thoughts, his breaths becoming more and more labored as seconds passed on. He scanned the area looking for any signs of life before it hit him that the never-ending forest path you two were stuck in must've been tied to the demon's blood art as well. Although the demon's life had been taken, and all effects should have ceased by now, it still persisted, locking the both of you in a trance-like state, still affecting your perception of your surroundings. Until it wore off, there was no escape for either of you. 

His eyes darted back to you, still full of concern. If he was unable to get you both out of here, he could at least find some way to help you.

"[F/n]. You need to tell me what you're feeling, maybe there's a way to reverse this. But, I don't... I don't remember there being an antidote...," Giyuu was unable to piece any of his thoughts together. It was starting to become increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything at all. Anything other than how... how beautiful you looked right now. Your eyes were trained on the ground, but he still lingered on the way your lashes fluttered open and closed. And the way your pretty lips were agape, sucking in short breaths. Your quiet whimpers triggered something sleeping deep within him, with the sound of your voice making his dick twitch to life in his uniform.

'It can't be....,' a very suggestive thought flickered in Giyuu's mind as he started to vaguely grasp what he was feeling. If the effects of the poison turned out to be what he thought it was, it would be an embarrassingly long amount of hours before the two of you made it out of this forest.

"It's the blood demon art... it's supposed to make you...," You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence. You were starting to not trust your own voice. You didn't even know what to say. You couldn't bring yourself to tell him, 'by the way Tomioka, this might be sex dust. we're supposed to start fucking to get rid of it.' Poor dude probably thinks there's an antidote somewhere. Unbeknownst to you, it just clicked in his brain what he needed to do. And as the water Pillar, it was his duty to do what he must to protect others. Especially a friend like you, a beautiful swordswoman at his side.

"It's alright, we can figure this out. I just need you to trust me." He cut you off calmly, moving behind you and leaning against a tree a couple of inches away. 

"Huh? What're you...," you started, squeaking as Giyuu pulled your back taught to his chest in a tight embrace, knees on either side, effectively trapping you. Reaching around to your front, he began indiscriminately popping open the rest of the buttons to your uniform jacket. You were only in your bindings underneath, which barely held up after the intense fight with the demon. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, the way he was glued to your backside. You knew the effects of the aphrodisiac had finally caught up to him, feeling him clench his teeth as his jaw was pressed to your temple. He slipped your jacket off, adding it to the pile of discarded clothes on the ground. 

"Hold on!" You wailed, nervousness choking you up completely. What was he doing? There was no way the quiet, stone-cold Giyuu Tomioka would participate in such erotic acts, even if it meant failing to return from a mission. You honestly didn't even think he had it in him to be so boldly sexual. You underestimated the level of carnal lust he had been holding back, simply to not disturb the peace of your friendship.

"I know I can help you, [f/n]. Forgive me," He exhaled, propping a finger under your chin to tilt your head back up toward him. His eyes were a shade darker, but you could see the traces of concern and desperation etched into his features. He leaned forward to lock his lips with yours, snaking a hand behind your head to nestle in your hair. His lips were soft and warm as he kissed you. You hesitated but moved your lips in sync as his tongue licked your bottom lip. Your mouth parted almost immediately, allowing his tongue to enter, tangling with yours. His tongue pushed into your mouth, hotly sucking on yours as he lightly moaned into the kiss. Seconds later, he pulled away with a quiet exhale, drinking in the sight of you with your face flushed and lips now swollen and pink. 

"These need to come off though," he sighed with disapproval, motioning towards your feet.

A hand slid down your leg, lifting it up to slip off your Geta sandal. Reaching over to your other leg, he popped off your remaining shoe.

"Are those...?" his breath was caught in his throat as he trailed his hands up your legs and lifted up your skirt, revealing the thigh-high socks you wore under your uniform.

You groaned as you felt Giyuu's palms slide over the tops of your thighs and slip underneath your uniform skirt, hands finding their way to the cotton material of your socks. 

"And definitely these too..." He sighed by your ear, his voice so deep it almost held a growl.

Your breath hitched as you felt two thumbs hook under your socks, intent on pushing them down your legs. Even in your hazy, lust-drunken state, you realized your socks were still connected to your panties by thin garter clips. By pulling your socks down, he could end up pulling your already-soaked panties down with them. Your resolve was already crumbling in this compromising position, but the risk of being exposed would shatter it completely. You were fighting off this 'poison' the best you could, but Tomioka's heated breath right next to your ear and slowly hardening length against the curve of your ass wasn't making it any easier. 

"G-Giyuu! Enough! 'Hng... you- you can't!" You panted frantically. Your hands wrapped around and strained against both of his wrists, heart thumping wildly as you watched him struggle to inch your socks down. 

"Just... Just let me take these off. You're overheating," Giyuu breathed, lowering his chin into the crook of your right shoulder. "It'll make you feel better... I can make you feel better." 

Despite his nonchalant demeanor, Tomioka found himself somehow falling deeper and deeper into intoxication, the remnants of the perfumed poison wafting off of you in sickly sweet-smelling waves. He couldn't help but inhale your scent deeply, quickly becoming addicted to it. His eyes were low, clouded in a dark lust as he felt his self-control splintering the more you pressed up against him, trying to preserve your dignity and hide your embarrassment. His tongue snaked out from between his lips, dragging a small stripe from the crook of your neck to your ear. He felt you shudder harshly beneath him as he kitten-licked the shell of your ear. 

"Please... you can't..," you whined, your pleas falling on deaf ears as the water Pillar had his way with you, already successfully dragging your socks down more than halfway. Your strength was no match for his, which had you biting your bottom lip frustratedly, feeling the effects of the poison diminish your motivation to resist. You watched as your garters moved down your legs from underneath your skirt, tightly fastened to your panties as they were pulled down with them.

"B-But my underwear-!" You helplessly stammered, as Giyuu lifted one of your legs after the other, slowly peeling the items of clothing off one by one. A patch of wetness could be seen dead in the center of your undergarment and caught his eye immediately as he watched it be pulled along. A trail of your slick coated your thighs, Giyuu's mouth watering at the sight.

"Oh. But you're already so wet down there... just let me help [f/n]... please," he softly groaned into your ear, his voice so desperate, full of need. You shivered as the air hit your barely covered cunt, and you snapped your knees together, trying to conceal yourself the best you could.

"Giyuu..." you started, feeling his large, rough hands slide back up underneath your skirt. Snaking his hand in between your thighs, he spread them open, allowing him more access. There was nothing to separate him from your bare pussy, and he let himself drag a hesitant finger up your quivering slit. A strangled moan escaped you as his fingers gathered your slick, and used it to rub smooth circles around your clit. 

"Oh! Fuck...," you quietly cursed, feeling yourself jerk and twitch from sudden pleasure as Tomioka gave you attention exactly where you needed it the most. You couldn't hide how badly you needed him to touch you, knowing how embarrassingly quick it would be for you to come undone. You arched more into him, lolling your head to the side as his slow circles on your bud brought you deeper into madness. Against your wishes, your hips ground into his fingers and into his erection behind you, chasing your high.

"That's it [f/n], I got you," he purred, moving his other hand that he used to steady your hip to trace your slit once more. You felt a finger breach your entrance, and you grabbed his forearms to steady your jolting body. 

"'Hng,... Ah!" you moaned loudly, gasping as he curled his finger inside your dripping heat, pushing it deeper until he found a spongy spot along your velvety walls. You almost leapt out of his arms, the way he prodded your g-spot so fiercely, your mind melting into a hazy goo, unable to think straight. You were practically immobilized with pleasure, letting out a whine when he added a second finger, and soon a third, stretching you out. His pace around your clit quickened, never faltering even with the added stimulation. Your pussy was drooling around his fingers, the squelching noises so vulgar to your ears. However, it was music to his. 

Tomioka nipped and sucked at your exposed neck, shuddering as your sweet cries reached his ears. You were almost at your limit, he could feel you squeezing sporadically around him. It was almost devilish how much he enjoyed you falling apart in his hands. He just wanted to help you feel better, of course, so happy the way your swollen pussy clung to his fingers. With a few more rubs of your clit, you felt it. The pressure that was steadily building up in your abdomen was careening over the edge. 

"W-Wait! Giyuu...! 'm cumming... gonna...!" You couldn't finish your sentence as the pressure exploded, sending you straight into the clouds. Your eyes rolled upwards, and your pussy spasmed and gushed around his fingers as you came hard. You shook in his arms, quietly cursing and moaning his name. Tomioka continued to finger-fuck you through your orgasm, relishing in the way you moaned his name as you came. He was rock hard, his cock straining painfully now against his uniform pants. He wanted nothing more than to feel himself inside you, hoping it could relieve the unbearable sexual frustration you were both suffering from.

As you panted, slowly coming down from your high, Giyuu slipped his hands away from your cunt to tear off his jacket, now allowing the both of you to be skin-to-skin. You still had your bindings halfway on, but you were soaking through your skirt, even creating a damp spot where the curve of your ass met his print. Giyuu had already slipped off his shoes, finding a place for his hands around your waist. You released a shaky breath as you felt his hands rub circles at your sides. 

"Are...are you feeling better?" He asked lowly, peering over your shoulder at the bindings that were slowly unraveling around your tits. His hands mindlessly came up to grope them softly, palming them in slow circles.

"Y-Yes," you breathed, unable to wrap your head around how hard he just made you cum with his fingers. The heat momentarily dwindled, before returning with the stimulation at your chest. You had the shortest window of relief before being reminded that you needed more. It wasn't enough. You needed to help him too, the only way you knew how. His method was working after all. 

"Giyuu... I think I need more," you mumbled, relaxing into his touches. His fingers came up to peel off your bindings, exposing your nipples to the air. He took each one in his index and thumb, lightly pulling and tweaking them. You jerked, shock and pleasure shooting through you. 

He was at your earlobe licking, then sucking and kissing the soft skin down the side of your neck.  

"I know baby, ...how much more? Tell me what you want," he sighed, drunken on how perfect and sexy you were like this. He almost wasn't sure how much of himself was being influenced by the aphrodisiac, you already drove him crazy internally. Eventually, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold himself back anymore. The way you regarded him so sweetly always, he found himself drawn to you, appreciating your friendship. He could only yearn for you, wanting to take you every time your touches lingered on his arm, or sparred with him, or was in his presence. He wanted to show you just how much he wanted you. 

"I want you... to fuck me," you moaned, ignoring how desperate your request may have came out. You just couldn't bear it any longer, you needed him to make you feel good. You needed him inside you until you couldn't think straight.

Giyuu wasted no time and brought his legs in, lifting you into his lap with a strong arm. He turned your head to collide mouths, hastily deepening the kiss. His tongue was back inside your mouth fiercely, mixing your saliva with his, and pulling back a bit to run it over your puffy lips. With an arm still supporting your back, he placed you onto his outstretched haori on the ground, him now on top of you. He broke the kiss, a thin string of spit connecting your lips before snapping. Giyuu slid his hands up the back of your thighs, placing both of your legs over his shoulders. Reaching down, he popped open the buttons of his trousers and hooked his thumb underneath, pulling them down with his undergarments and freeing his cock. You glanced into the space between your bodies, watching as his dick, long and heavy with considerable girth, twitched to life. It slightly curved, and his tip was angrily flushed, precum dribbling from his slit. Your mouth watered a little at the sight. You could feel how big it was from his print, but seeing his dick in all its naked glory was a different story. You were calculating if it would even fit, unaware that Tomioka watched your expression morph into one of dumbfoundedness. He lowered himself, placing an arm next to your head, to press a chaste kiss to your cheek, and one on your lips.

"You can take it... right?" He whispered into your ear and gave a tentative roll of his hips, sliding his tip over your slick folds. His cock dipped lightly into and out of your entrance and slipped right over your clit. 

"Ah...! Yes-!" You gasped, feeling the head of his cock breach your entrance. He pushed a few inches into you, your pussy already squeezing him tightly. You felt him groan, drawling out your name in a soft whisper. 

"So fucking... tight...," Tomioka shuddered, tensing up to keep him from creaming inside your needy cunt so quickly. "How could you keep this from me..?" He closed his eyes, enjoying every second his cock slowly pushed an inch inside of you. 

"Ohh...! Keep going p-please!" You babbled, needing him to hurry and fill you up, even if the pressure opening up your little hole was overwhelming. The effects of the poison still craved more and more, having no regard for logic, just urging you to be pounded into. 

"Gods...," he breathed, with quick two thrusts fully splitting you open and seating him deeper than you could have imagined inside you. He stilled for a moment, letting you feel every twitch, as you throbbed around him. You were situated in a mating press, thighs to your chest, as Tomioka angled his hips to kiss his tip at your cervix. Your head reeled from total satisfaction, despite the painful stretch, and your voice was caught in your throat as you felt him, finally, filling up your aching pussy. You almost couldn't get enough of his body being on yours, wrapping your arms around his neck and screwing your eyes shut. Slowly dragging his full length from out your pussy, you felt every vein on his cock as he moved, already whining and nipping at his neck to be stuffed again. He couldn't bare to turn to show you how wide his pupils were blown, beads of sweat forming at his temple as his last strings of self-restraint started to snap. 

"I'm gonna start moving now," Giyuu murmured lowly, almost as a warning to brace yourself.

"H-Hurry, Ngh-!" you cried as he snapped his hips forward, plunging into your velvety heat once more. With a firm grip on your calf, he set a brutal pace, pounding into you with every sharp roll of his pelvis. Your pussy drooled and creamed around him as he rearranged your insides, echoing obscene skin-slapping sounds when his heavy balls met the curve of your ass. 

"Fuck... you keep sucking me in like that...," he hissed, losing himself in your pretty cunt. 

His cock head continually prodded your cervix, constantly rubbing along your g-spot, sending you barreling towards your second release. His head rose to watch your face, long wisps of jet-black hair running awry. He loved watching your tits bounce as he roughly fucked you, the sight fulfilling his most carnal desires. He watched as quiet praises fell from your lips, barely coherent with how cock-drunk you became, and your eyes fluttered open and closed, unable to hold eye contact, your nerves firing off on every end. His eyes flickered to where your two bodies met, eyeing the creamy ring your pussy pushed down the base of his member the deeper he thrust into you. He let out staggered grunts feeling himself approach his high quickly with the way your cunt swallowed his dick relentlessly. He wanted you to cum again, all over his dick this time, and felt the urge to breed his seed deep into you, only if you would let him. His hand abandoned the back of your knee to snake down your abdomen and find its way to your puffy clit. After rubbing several quick circles on your nub, he felt the siren's call of your approaching orgasm, your cunt starting to spasm around his length.  You peered up at him through teary eyes, mouth falling open.

"I-I think I'm... 'm cumming... 'm cumming... fuckk, " you braced yourself as your vision exploded with stars, your mind-numbing climax tearing through you with a strangled cry. Your pussy squirted your release, dripping down your ass and wetting him from his balls to the tops of his thighs. You called out Tomioka's name with a sob as he fucked you steadily through your orgasm. His resolve finally cracked as he knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

"Just like that baby... I'm almost... almost there," he stammered, clenching his teeth as he watched you come down exhaustedly, your doe eyes low and tired. 

"Inside... n-need you to cum inside me...," you whispered up at him, using the last of your strength to urge him impossibly deeper. It was such a filthy request that he was more than happy to oblige, as his thrusts morphed into, deep, sultry rolls of his hips. He ground into your cunt a few more times before pushing inside you one last time, his tip spurting warm cum up against your cervix. His body shook, chest heaving hard as he breathed out a string of curses, drowning in the intensity of his climax. You both panted heavily for a moment, feeling the brain fog finally start to dissipate. 

Sliding out of you with a quiet "damn," his eyes locked on your pussy as his own semen spilled from your hole, trailing down your sex. The two of you had just gone at it like rabbits, both sheepishly smiling as Tomioka lowered your aching legs. There were no words to describe how utterly satisfying it was to succumb to the urges of the aphrodisiac.

"I think," you said in between breaths, "We might have to just continue this later... indoors...," suddenly reminded of your place on the forest floor. 

"Yeah, ... I agree."

® 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬-𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦. 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, & 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 <𝟑

[lichenes]

Heard you were wanting to write for Silco and I came running!

I was wondering if you could possibly write something fluffy between Silco and male reader? If you write for male readers of course, G/N is also fine. Perhaps Silco is having a rough day and the reader is there for him? I love reverse comfort fics and Silco has become one of my favs.

Thank you in advance and take your time. No sweat if this request isn't for you :)

We definitely have too little silco x male!reader stuff!! I shall do my part 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ Silco is a deeply flawed and intricately written character and I can't quite relay that in my writing but I hope I soon will get it... anyway!

CW: pet names (dove, my love), upset silco (as if he didnt have enough), lap sitting - scandalous!!

wc: 600

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“Silco?” You asked entering his office. He was sitting in his chair, facing the ornate window of the room. Silco didn't respond. You assumed it was your cue to leave. Just before you closed the door he turned around and demanded your presence.

“Come here.” His voice seething with leftover anger. He preferred to work on his grievances alone, you knew that, so why was he so eager to have you by his side this time? You closed the door with a soft click and walked up slowly to his desk unsure what to do.

Your relationship was relatively fresh as he had asked you just a few weeks back to be his beloved. He then presented you with a necklace with a stone you weren’t quite familiar with, to encapsulate his devotion to you and consummate your relationship.

You'd toy with it when stressed or overwhelmed to ground yourself and keep yourself afloat, thinking about him. Your infatuation was something not many understood. Nevertheless, you persisted in your fidelity to the ruler of Zaun.

“Come here.” He emphasised. Your feet led you to his side as he patted his spread legs giving you a sign to sit in the most comfortable seat of all, his lap. And so you obeyed. When you were sitting comfortably he was holding you up by the small of your back and he was staring.

He was staring at your Adam's apple, as it bobbed up and down, and was trailing his sight down to the necklace. A wanton move was made soon after you noticed it. He cradled the piece of jewellery delicately and soon, he was tugging on it making you come closer to him. 

You relaxed in his grasp and put your hands on the armrests of his chair to further steady yourself. “What did you want, dove?” Said Silco finally responding to your question, still holding you by your, de facto, collar. “Just wanted to check up on you.” You almost whispered, breathless staring at him, not wanting to break contact. 

“Hmm… is that so?” 

You nodded. “Correct me if I'm wrong, my love…” Your noses were almost touching. “But… I think you had something else in mind when you went looking for me.” 

Admittedly you were feeling a little lonely, nevertheless you pulled away. Silco was many things but he never was this openly flirtatious towards you. He did profess his love to you, not actually bared his heart. Although slowly but surely, you were chipping away at his tough exterior.

“Forgive me my love.” You dared. “You seem to be bothered by something.” You put your hand in his hair and scratched his scalp lightly. Silco's smugness momentarily fled from his features, introducing a certain softness and returned back, just as soon. “Oh? Are you worried about me, little dove?” 

You put your hands on his cheek. “Silco.” Your face went stoic. “Tell me what's wrong.” He couldn't deny you any longer so he folded. “It's…” You frowned slightly, beckoning him to keep talking. “It seems I can't catch a break with you, can I?” He chuckled. “Alright then.” He sighed and began explaining his latest quandaries. You were nodding along, listening to his every word and when he finished talking you offered advice which he gladly took. 

“Also I think Finn is a shithead, but that’s just my opinion.” He chuckled at your sentiment. A moment of serenity was broken by his sudden capture of your lips. You gladly leaned into the kiss battling for dominance, losing nevertheless. 

“What would I do without you, dove?”

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masterlist

[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Starlight - Part 4

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 5k

warning; /

notes; heyy, I hope that all of you are doing fine ! Here is part 4, pretty calm chapter but I think that you will like it ;))) To be honest I'm already done writing the story, I might change some details because I'm still not really happy about some parts but the overall storyline is finished. Otherwise don't hesitate to comment or ask to be on the tag list ;)) I'm always super happy to see your feedbacks and comments on the story. See you soon, bisous bisoussss

here is the link for part 3 or part 5

---

Wrapped in the warmth of a thick, fur-lined cape, you made your way through the vast and unforgiving landscape that led to the Winter Court. The journey had been long, the cold biting at your skin despite the layers of wool and leather beneath your armor. Your boots crunched through the snow with every step, the sound a constant reminder of the icy terrain you traversed. The fur trim of your cape brushed against your face, shielding you from the harsh winds that howled through the mountains.

Your outfit was designed for both warmth and practicality—leather pants tucked into sturdy boots, a long-sleeved woolen tunic layered under a thick, high-collared vest, and over it all, the heavy cape that provided not just warmth, but protection from the elements. The fur-lined hood of the cape was pulled low over your brow, keeping the icy wind from nipping at your face. Gloves made of soft, supple leather protected your hands, though your fingers itched for the familiar feel of your weapons.

The landscape around you was breathtakingly beautiful, despite its harshness. The snow-covered mountains rose like jagged teeth against the clear, cold sky, their peaks piercing the heavens. The ground beneath your feet was a blanket of pristine white, unmarked by any sign of life save for the occasional tracks of a snow hare or a fox. The air was crisp and clean, filling your lungs with a chill that was both invigorating and biting.

As you neared the Winter Court, the terrain began to change subtly. The trees, tall and ancient, were dusted with snow, their branches heavy with the weight of winter. The air grew colder, the wind sharper, as you approached the heart of Kallias’s domain. The palace, when it came into view, was a marvel of ice and stone, a structure that seemed to rise organically from the frozen earth itself. Its spires glistened in the weak sunlight, the walls shimmering as if carved from a single massive block of ice. It was both awe-inspiring and foreboding, a testament to the power of the High Lord who ruled within.

As you entered the grand hall, the cold air seemed to intensify, but you were prepared for it. Your breath misted before you as you walked, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the ice-encrusted walls. The interior of the palace was no less magnificent than its exterior—glittering chandeliers of ice hung from the ceiling, casting a cool, ethereal light across the room. The floors were a mosaic of frosted tiles, and the walls were adorned with intricate carvings that depicted the history and power of the Winter Court.

Kallias awaited you at the far end of the hall, his tall, imposing figure clad in robes of pure white, trimmed with silver. His eyes, as cold and sharp as the winter wind, met yours as you approached, and he offered a nod of acknowledgment.

"Y/N," he greeted, his voice as icy as his surroundings. "I trust your journey was without incident?"

You inclined your head in respect. "It was, High Lord. The Winter Court is as beautiful as ever."

Kallias’s lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "It is. And I am eager to see the weapon you have forged for me."

With a practiced motion, you unclasped the leather strap that secured the long, narrow case at your side. Carefully, you lifted the lid, revealing the weapon within—a glaive, forged from the finest steel, its blade gleaming with an icy blue sheen that seemed to capture the essence of winter itself. The hilt was intricately designed, resembling the ancient, snow-laden trees of the Winter Court, with delicate, frost-like etchings that trailed along its length. At the base of the hilt, a crystal embedded in the pommel caught the light, glittering like freshly fallen snow.

Kallias’s eyes gleamed with appreciation as he took in the sight of the weapon. He stepped forward, his gloved hand reaching out to grasp the hilt. The glaive fit perfectly in his hand, its weight balanced, its craftsmanship flawless. He swung it once, the blade cutting through the air with a sharp, crisp sound that resonated through the hall.

"It’s exquisite," Kallias said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "You’ve outdone yourself, Y/N."

You bowed your head slightly, a smile tugging at your lips. "I’m glad it meets your expectations, High Lord. It was an honor to craft something for the Winter Court."

Kallias’s gaze lingered on the weapon for a moment longer before he turned his icy eyes back to you. "It more than meets my expectations. It surpasses them. You have a gift, Y/N, and I’m fortunate to have been able to commission such a weapon from you."

There was a moment of silence as Kallias continued to study the glaive, the air between you filled with the mutual respect of two artisans—one of ice, one of steel. Finally, he nodded, his expression softening just slightly.

"You must be tired from your journey," Kallias said, his tone shifting to something more cordial. "Please, stay as my guest. You are welcome in the Winter Court as long as you wish."

You inclined your head again, appreciating the offer. "Thank you, High Lord. I may take you up on that, but I must return to the Night Court soon. There are other matters that require my attention."

Kallias nodded in understanding. "Of course. But for now, rest. My stewards will see to your needs."

With that, he handed the glaive back to you, and you secured it once more in its case. As you followed the steward who had been summoned to lead you to your quarters, you couldn’t help but marvel at the power and grace of the Winter Court—its beauty, its cold, unyielding strength. The journey had been long, but the successful delivery of such a finely crafted weapon made it all worthwhile.

As you were led to your quarters, you wondered what the days ahead would bring, knowing that whatever challenges lay before you, you were more than prepared to face them.

After a much-needed rest in the luxurious quarters provided by Kallias, you found yourself summoned to dinner with the High Lord and his wife, Viviane. The invitation was delivered with the same formality and grace that characterized the Winter Court, and you dressed accordingly, choosing an outfit that was both practical for the cold and respectful of the occasion. You opted for a tailored, high-collared tunic in deep blue, paired with fitted leather pants and sturdy boots designed for both warmth and movement. Over the tunic, you wore a vest of finely stitched leather, its dark hue matching the rich blue of your tunic, and lined with fur for added warmth. A thick, fur-lined cloak draped over your shoulders, adding the final touch of protection against the biting cold.

The dining hall itself was as magnificent as the rest of the palace, with walls of ice that seemed to glow in the soft candlelight. A grand table made of polished, dark wood stood at the center, set with fine crystal and silverware that sparkled under the light. Kallias and Viviane were already seated when you arrived, their regal presence filling the room with an aura of quiet power.

Viviane greeted you with a warm smile, her blue eyes sparkling with kindness. “Y/N, it’s a pleasure to have you join us. Please, sit. I hope the accommodations were to your liking?”

You returned her smile, inclining your head respectfully as you took the seat offered to you. “Thank you, Lady Viviane. The accommodations were perfect—your hospitality is most generous.”

Kallias nodded in agreement, his expression calm and composed. “We are glad to hear that. You’ve traveled far, and your work has been extraordinary. You deserve the best.”

As the first course was served—a delicate soup made with winter vegetables and fragrant herbs—you found yourself relaxing into the atmosphere. The warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth, combined with the rich scents of the food, created a sense of comfort that was almost surprising in the cold grandeur of the palace.

As the meal progressed, Kallias leaned back slightly, regarding you with an inquisitive gaze. “Tell me, Y/N,” he began, his voice casual but laced with curiosity, “are you finally settling down? It’s not often we hear of someone as skilled as you staying in one place for long.”

You smiled softly, nodding as you set down your spoon. “Yes, I’ve returned to my roots. I’ve settled back in the Night Court, where I grew up. It feels right to be back home, even after all the years of traveling.”

Kallias’s eyes sharpened with interest, though he remained composed. “The Night Court, you say? And how has that been? Is it… a unique place, from what I’ve heard.”

You nodded again, careful with your words. “It’s been a good experience, returning to the Night Court. It has its own charm, and I’ve found a certain peace there that I didn’t realize I was missing.”

Viviane, ever the gracious hostess, leaned forward slightly, her gaze warm. “It must be wonderful to return to your roots after so long. I can imagine it offers a sense of stability, something to hold onto.”

“It does,” you agreed. “After years of traveling and crafting for different courts, it’s good to have a place to call home again.”

Kallias seemed to consider this for a moment before his expression shifted slightly, a more contemplative look in his eyes. “Y/N, do you see yourself as a blacksmith for the rest of your life?”

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated for a moment before responding. “I’ve dedicated most of my life to the craft. It’s something I’m deeply passionate about. But… I’ve also wondered if there’s more I could do, especially now that I’m settled in one place.”

Kallias nodded thoughtfully, as if weighing something in his mind. “With your skills and the relationships you’ve built across the courts, have you ever considered becoming an emissary? You already have a good rapport with most of the High Lords, and your experience is invaluable.”

You blinked in surprise, the idea not one you had expected to hear. “An emissary?” you repeated, trying to imagine the shift from blacksmith to diplomat. “It’s not something I’ve considered before… but I suppose it could be an interesting path.”

Kallias was about to continue when he seemed to catch himself, a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Of course, that’s a matter for Rhysand to consider. While our relations with the Night Court are… decent, I’m not one to aid in growing another court’s power.”

There was a hint of amusement in his tone, and you couldn’t help but smile in return. “I understand, High Lord. And I appreciate the suggestion, though. It’s something I’ll have to think about.”

Viviane reached out, placing a gentle hand on Kallias’s arm. “Don’t mind him, Y/N. He’s always thinking three steps ahead, even during a simple dinner.”

Kallias chuckled softly, inclining his head. “Indeed, but it’s worth considering. Your talents shouldn’t be confined to one craft alone, no matter how extraordinary it may be.”

The conversation continued in a more relaxed manner as the evening wore on, the three of you discussing everything from the beauty of the Winter Court to tales of your travels. Despite the formality of the setting, there was an ease to the dinner that you hadn’t anticipated—a warmth that contrasted pleasantly with the cold elegance of the palace.

As the dinner came to an end, you felt a sense of satisfaction not just from the meal, but from the knowledge that you were appreciated here in the Winter Court. The suggestion of becoming an emissary lingered in your mind, a seed planted by Kallias that you knew would take root in the days to come.

For now, though, you allowed yourself to enjoy the moment, grateful for the hospitality of the Winter Court and the new possibilities that lay ahead.

Later that evening, after the dinner with Kallias and Viviane, you found yourself back in the comfort of your room. The luxurious quarters were warm and inviting, the fire crackling softly in the hearth as you settled into a plush chair by the window. The view outside was breathtaking—a serene expanse of snow-covered mountains under a clear, starlit sky. The quiet beauty of the Winter Court seemed almost surreal after the intense conversations of the day.

As you stared out at the snow-draped landscape, your thoughts began to drift back to the events that had transpired before your journey here—specifically, the night with Cassian. The memory of his broken wings and the dark curse that had infested his body sent a shiver down your spine. You had dealt with injuries before, but nothing quite like that. The sight of Cassian in such a vulnerable state, combined with the pressure of having to save him, had shaken you more than you cared to admit.

You couldn’t help but wonder how Cassian was doing now. Madja was a skilled healer, but the curse had been something different—something darker and more insidious. You hoped that your efforts, combined with Madja’s expertise, would be enough to see him fully recovered.

But your thoughts didn’t linger on Cassian for long. Instead, they wandered to Azriel—his overprotective reaction when you mentioned your journey to the Winter Court. You had been taken aback by the intensity in his eyes, the way his voice had tightened with worry when he insisted that you couldn’t go alone. It was unlike him, or at least unlike the composed, stoic Azriel you had come to know.

A small blush crept up your cheeks as you recalled the way he had draped his jacket over your shoulders before flying you home. The warmth of the leather, combined with his proximity, had stirred something in you—a feeling you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge until now. Azriel was undeniably attractive, with his dark, brooding looks and those piercing hazel eyes that seemed to see right through you. But more than that, he was one of the most skilled warriors in Prythian, a member of the Inner Circle, and someone who carried a weight of responsibility that few could comprehend.

You let out a small sigh, feeling a mixture of admiration and frustration. Azriel was everything you weren’t—an elite warrior, trusted confidant of the High Lord, and part of a circle that wielded immense power and influence. What were you, in comparison? A blacksmith, skilled in your craft, but still just someone who worked with metal and fire. You had traveled far and gained respect across the courts, but it was hard to shake the feeling that Azriel was somehow out of your league.

You couldn’t deny the attraction, though. Every time you thought of him—his calm presence, his quiet strength—it sent your heart fluttering in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying. But you reminded yourself that someone like Azriel wouldn’t be interested in you, not in that way. He was dedicated to his duties, and you… you were just a blacksmith. 

Still, the memory of his protective concern lingered, the way his eyes had softened slightly when he insisted on flying you home. It was a gesture that spoke of something deeper, something that made your heart ache with longing.

You shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away. It was foolish to dwell on such things. Azriel was a friend, and that was enough. There was no sense in imagining something that could never be.

But even as you told yourself that, you couldn’t help the small, wistful smile that tugged at your lips. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was more to Azriel’s concern than simple duty. Perhaps there was a connection there, one that went beyond the roles you both played.

With a sigh, you stood and walked over to the window, staring out at the endless expanse of snow and stars. The Winter Court was beautiful, but your mind was already drifting back to Velaris, to the Night Court, and to the people who had become an unexpected but welcome part of your life.

And as you stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, you couldn’t help but wonder what the future held—for you and perhaps most of all, for Azriel.

—— 

Back in Velaris, the shop was quieter than usual. Without the rhythmic clang of metal on metal or the hum of the forge, the space felt almost too still, the usual lively energy dampened by your absence. But that didn’t stop Alex from doing his best to keep things running smoothly. He was darting between customers, expertly answering questions and showcasing various weapons with the kind of enthusiasm that belied his young age. Stellan, your faithful direwolf, was sprawled out near the counter, watching the activity with an expression that could only be described as long-suffering patience.

A particularly persistent client had been lingering in the shop for the better part of an hour, his eyes darting around as if expecting to spot you at any moment. He was a tall, lanky man with a nervous energy, and he had been pestering Alex incessantly.

“Are you sure she’s not here?” the man asked for what felt like the hundredth time, his tone edging on desperation. “I need to speak with Y/N directly.”

Alex, who had been maintaining his polite demeanor with admirable restraint, forced a smile that was beginning to strain at the edges. “As I’ve already mentioned, sir, Y/N is currently away on business. She won’t be back until next week.”

The man’s eyes narrowed as if Alex were trying to trick him. “But I really need to speak with her. Can’t you just call her? Or maybe she’s in the back?”

Alex’s forced smile twitched, and he muttered under his breath, “On the name of the goddamn Mother, I’m going to hit him.” He forced his voice back to a more polite tone as he said, “I’ve already checked, sir. She’s definitely not in the back. And no, I can’t call her—she’s in the Winter Court. They don’t exactly have a postal service for emergencies.”

The client frowned, clearly dissatisfied with the answer. “But this is important! Can’t you at least take a message?”

“Sir,” Alex said, his voice straining to maintain its politeness, “I’ve taken five messages from you already. I promise I’ll give them all to Y/N when she returns. But for now, there’s really nothing more I can do.”

The man didn’t seem convinced and opened his mouth to argue again, but Alex had reached his limit. He could feel his frustration bubbling up, and he was just about ready to scream when the shop door swung open with a loud creak.

In walked Cassian and Azriel, both of them cutting imposing figures as they strode into the shop. Cassian’s broad shoulders filled the doorway, and Azriel’s intense gaze swept over the scene, quickly taking in the situation.

The persistent client froze, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the two warriors. Cassian’s expression was one of barely concealed amusement, while Azriel’s was much cooler, a silent but clear warning to the man that he was pushing his luck.

“Is there a problem here?” Azriel asked, his voice light but with an edge that sent a shiver down the man’s spine.

The client swallowed hard, his resolve crumbling under the weight of Azriel’s presence. “N-No, no problem at all,” he stammered, his previous determination evaporating. “I was just… uh… I’ll come back later.”

With that, the man all but bolted for the door, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to leave the shop. The door slammed shut behind him, and the shop was suddenly filled with silence, save for the faint crackling of the forge in the background.

Alex let out a long, relieved sigh and leaned against the counter, wiping a hand across his brow. “Thank the Mother for that,” he muttered.

Cassian chuckled, walking over to ruffle Alex’s hair. “You handled that well, kid. He was lucky he didn’t push you any further—looked like you were about to go feral.”

Alex grinned up at him, his earlier frustration melting away. “I was close, really close. But thanks for the help! Can I interest either of you in a fine sword? Or perhaps a dagger? We’ve got some new arrivals that are really top-notch.”

Azriel, who had been leaning casually against the counter, let out a soft chuckle. “Not today, Alex. We’re not here to shop.”

Cassian, still grinning, shook his head. “Yeah, as tempting as it is, we’re actually here to see if Y/N’s back yet. We wanted to check in and see how things are going.”

Alex’s face brightened at the mention of your name. “Oh! No, she’s not back yet. She should be here by tomorrow, though. I haven’t heard anything from her, but she always keeps her word.”

Cassian nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Good to hear. We’ve been worried about her, especially after everything that happened before she left.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened slightly at the mention of recent events, but he remained quiet, his gaze drifting around the shop as if lost in thought.

Alex, ever the perceptive one, caught the shift in Azriel’s demeanor and quickly changed the subject. “But hey, if you want, I can show you some of the stuff she’s been working on! I know she’s got some special orders that are almost ready. You might even find something you like.”

Cassian laughed, clearly charmed by the boy’s enthusiasm. “Maybe another time, Alex. We’ll just wait for her to get back. But thanks for the offer.”

Alex nodded, a little disappointed that he couldn’t make a sale but still pleased that the two warriors had stopped by. “No problem! I’ll let her know you were here as soon as she gets back.”

“Thanks, Alex,” Cassian said, giving the boy another affectionate ruffle of his hair before turning to leave. Azriel followed, but not before giving Alex a small, almost imperceptible nod of appreciation.

As they walked out the door, Alex watched them go, a satisfied grin on his face. Stellan, who had been observing the entire exchange with his usual calm, gave a soft huff as if to say, “Finally, some peace and quiet.”

Alex glanced down at the wolf, chuckling softly. “Yeah, I know, boy. It’s never boring around here, is it?”

Stellan’s only response was to close his eyes and settle back down, clearly content now that the shop had returned to its usual, slightly chaotic but always interesting, routine.

As Cassian and Azriel stepped out of your shop and into the bustling streets of Velaris, the evening air was cool and refreshing, carrying with it the scents of the city—freshly baked bread, the distant aroma of spiced meats, and the crisp tang of the Sidra River. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden hue over the cobblestone streets and the elegantly curved buildings.

Cassian glanced over at Azriel, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know, you didn’t have to scare the poor guy so much back there. He practically ran out of the shop.”

Azriel shrugged, his expression unreadable as usual, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “He was being persistent. Alexander was close to losing his patience.”

Cassian laughed, the sound rich and full of life. “True, true. That kid’s got more fire in him than most people twice his age. But I have to admit, it was fun watching you in action. You’ve always had a knack for that brooding intimidation.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, though the corners of his lips twitched slightly. “It wasn’t intentional. I just wanted to make sure the shop was running smoothly while Y/N is away.”

Cassian’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Speaking of Y/N… you’ve been pretty protective of her lately, haven’t you?”

Azriel’s step faltered for just a moment, but he quickly recovered, keeping his gaze focused ahead. “She’s been through a lot. We all have. I’m just making sure she’s safe.”

Cassian chuckled, clearly enjoying this line of questioning. “Come on, Az. We’ve all noticed how you’ve been watching out for her. And don’t think Rhys didn’t told me the way you reacted when she mentioned going to the Winter Court alone.”

Azriel’s expression remained impassive, though his eyes darkened slightly. “It’s my job to protect the people in this court, Cassian. You know that.”

“Sure, sure,” Cassian replied, waving a hand dismissively. “But this feels a little more personal, don’t you think? You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

Azriel remained silent, his gaze focused straight ahead as they continued walking. The streets of Velaris were alive with activity—couples strolling hand in hand, children playing, vendors calling out their wares—but the conversation between the two warriors seemed to create a bubble of quiet tension around them. Cassian, always one to lighten the mood, decided to press a little further.

“You know, Az,” Cassian started, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, “it’s not like that little kiss she gave me means you’re out of the running.”

Azriel shot him a sharp look, his eyes narrowing. “That wasn’t a kiss, Cassian. She was removing a curse. You know that.”

Cassian laughed, the sound rich and full of amusement. “Hey, I’m just saying—if you’re worried about competition, don’t be. That ‘kiss’ doesn’t mean you’ve lost your chance.”

Azriel shook his head, resuming his walk. "It's not about that. Y/N deserves someone... better.” 

Cassian rolled his eyes dramatically, catching up to Azriel with a few quick strides. "Oh, here we go. The 'I'm not good enough' spiel. Az, you’re one of the most honorable males I know. You're brave, loyal, and let's not forget, you have that brooding mysterious thing going on that females seem to love."

Azriel shot him a skeptical look. "Being 'brooding and mysterious' isn't exactly a selling point."

"Maybe not for you," Cassian quipped, "but trust me, it's working. Besides, Y/N isn't the type to be swayed by titles or power. She values character, integrity, and someone who sees her for who she truly is."

Azriel sighed, his gaze distant. "Even so, with everything in my past, the things I've done... I don't want to burden her with that."

Cassian placed a firm hand on Azriel's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. "Listen to me. We all have our demons, our shadows. Y/N included. But that doesn't mean we don't deserve happiness. You can't keep punishing yourself forever.”

"She is… different. She’s strong, independent. She’s been through so much, yet she doesn’t let it define her. I admire that.”

Cassian nodded, his expression softening slightly. “She is all of those things. And she’s got a good heart. But, Az, you know it’s okay to feel something more. You don’t have to keep everything locked away.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might brush off the conversation entirely. But then he sighed, a sound that was barely audible but heavy with unspoken thoughts. “It’s not that simple, Cass. She’s… well, she’s remarkable. But she’s also tied to things I don’t fully understand. And after everything… I’m not sure it’s right to complicate things further.”

Cassian looked at him, his expression serious for once. “You’re overthinking it, as usual. Sometimes, it’s okay to just… let things happen. If there’s something there, you’ll figure it out. And if there’s not, well, at least you won’t have any regrets.”

Azriel didn’t respond immediately, but Cassian could see the conflict in his eyes. Finally, Azriel murmured, “I don’t want to be a distraction for her. She’s got enough to deal with, especially after what happened.”

Cassian grinned, though there was a note of understanding in his voice. “You’re not a distraction, Az. If anything, you’re probably one of the few people who can help her with whatever she’s dealing with. And, just so you know, she’s not out of your league, no matter what you think.”

Azriel remained silent, the internal battle evident in his eyes. The bustling sounds of Velaris seemed to fade as the two friends stood in the midst of the crowd, locked in a moment of understanding.

After a beat, Cassian grinned, attempting to lighten the mood. "And besides, if you don't make a move, I might just have to swoop in. You know, for the sake of not letting such a wonderful female go unappreciated."

Azriel snorted, a rare genuine laugh escaping his lips. "I'd like to see you try."

Cassian winked, clapping Azriel on the back. "That's the spirit! Now, how about we head to Rita's and grab a drink? Maybe by the time Y/N returns, you'll have mustered up the courage to tell her how you feel."

Azriel smirked, his shadows swirling playfully around him. "Only if you're buying."

"Deal," Cassian replied, leading the way with a swagger in his step. "But remember, the next round's on you, especially if it gives you the liquid courage you clearly need."

As they made their way towards the river, laughter and camaraderie enveloped them. Yet, beneath the teasing and banter, the seeds of self-reflection had been sown in Azriel's heart, leaving him to ponder the possibilities that awaited with your impending return. 

tag list: @annamariereads16 @hanatsuki-hime @elsie-bells @shizukestar @rose-girls-world @brit-broskis-cole-fanfic @faridathefairy @elsie-bells @faridathefairy @wolfbc97 @rcarbo1 @kitsunetori @hufflepuff-pa55 @proclivity-for-fantasy-97 @sometimeseverythingsucks @dream-alittlebiggerdarling

don't hesitate to comment if you want to be added to the tag list ;)))

[bangchansdirty-slut]

hiii, can i request a karina x gp! reader? 🙏🙏

Leader's Help

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Paring: Top!Karina x gp!Reader

Genre: smut

Requested

More: Masterlist

A/n: Requests are open

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

The soft hum of the air conditioner filled the quiet room, a stark contrast to the bustling city outside. Karina, wearing a tank top and sweats, lounged on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She noticed Y/n, the younger member of aespa, pacing back and forth, her eyes darting around nervously. The stress of the day's promotions and her role as a Gucci ambassador had etched lines on Y/n's face that seemed to deepen with every step. Concerned, Karina set her phone aside and sat up, her legs folding underneath her.

"Hey, are you okay?" Karina asked gently, her voice carrying the same soothing tone she used to calm their fans during live streams. Y/n's shoulders tensed before she let out a sigh, her eyes meeting Karina's with a look of vulnerability.

"I'm just…overwhelmed," Y/n murmured, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. "I know I should be used to it by now, but today was just…too much."

Karina nodded understandingly, rising to her feet and crossing the room to wrap her arms around Y/n in a comforting embrace. "You've been working so hard," she whispered, her breath tickling Y/n's ear. "You deserve a break."

With a gentle nudge, Karina led Y/n to the bed, their shared laughter from earlier now replaced by a comforting silence. She sat beside her, stroking Y/n's hair and rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles. "Let me help you relax," she suggested, her voice a soft purr that seemed to resonate through Y/n's entire body.

Y/n nodded gratefully, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt Karina's warm touch. Without another word, Karina leaned in and placed a tender kiss on Y/n's forehead, her hand moving down to trace the curve of her neck. The touch was electric, sending shivers down Y/n's spine, and she couldn't help but lean into it, craving more.

Karina noticed the change in Y/n's demeanor and smirked, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She knew exactly what Y/n needed to take her mind off the stress, and she was more than happy to provide it. Her hand slid down further, brushing against the fabric of Y/n's shirt, teasing the skin beneath. Y/n gasped, her eyes shooting open to meet Karina's gaze.

With a playful grin, Karina leaned in and captured Y/n's lips in a passionate kiss, their tongues dancing together as if they were in a silent battle for dominance. Y/n's body responded instinctively, her hands finding purchase on Karina's waist, pulling her closer. The kiss grew more intense, their breaths mingling as their hearts raced in sync.

Breaking away, Karina gazed into Y/n's eyes, which were now filled with a mix of shock and desire. "I want to show you how much I appreciate you," she whispered, her thumb tracing Y/n's bottom lip. "You're always so shy, but I know you're just as wild as the rest of us."

Y/n's cheeks burned hotter as she felt Karina's hand slip under her shirt, caressing the soft skin of her chest. The older member's confidence was infectious, and she found herself letting go of her inhibitions. Her own hands began to wander, tracing the contours of Karina's body, feeling the firm muscles beneath the fabric.

Karina's smirk grew wider as she felt Y/n's growing boldness. She knew the younger member had a wild side hidden beneath her shy exterior, and she was eager to unleash it. With a swift move, she pulled Y/n's shirt over her head, revealing her perky breasts and the girl cock that she knew Y/n was so self-conscious about. But to Karina, it was a symbol of beauty and individuality that only added to Y/n's charm.

Y/n's eyes searched Karina's for any sign of judgment, but all she found was a hungry gaze that made her stomach flip. Karina leaned in, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin of Y/n's neck, making her gasp. "You're so beautiful," she murmured, her breath hot against Y/n's ear. "Let me show you how much."

With surprising gentleness, Karina took Y/n's hand and guided it to her own chest, allowing the younger member to explore the soft mounds beneath her shirt. Y/n's heart raced as she felt the hardened nipples against her palm, her own cock straining against her pants in response. Karina's hand mirrored the movement, slipping into Y/n's sweatpants to find her sensitive member, already hard and eager.

"You like that, don't you?" Karina whispered, her voice a seductive whisper that sent waves of pleasure through Y/n's body. "You're so responsive."

Y/n nodded, her eyes never leaving Karina's as she felt the older member's expert touch on her cock. Karina began to stroke her gently, her movements growing more confident as she felt the younger girl's body react. Y/n's hips bucked involuntarily, her breaths growing ragged as the tension built.

"I've never…done this before," Y/n admitted shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. Karina's eyes widened with surprise before she leaned in and kissed her softly.

"I'll take care of you," she promised, her thumb continuing to circle Y/n's clit as she spoke. "We'll go slow, and if you ever want to stop, just tell me."

With a nod, Y/n lay back, her body trembling with anticipation. Karina removed her own shirt, revealing her toned abs and perfect breasts, the sight of which made Y/n's cock throb even more. Karina's eyes never left hers as she leaned down, her soft pink lips wrapping around the tip of Y/n's cock. Y/n's breath hitched, and she felt a rush of pleasure so intense it was almost painful.

Karina's mouth was warm and wet, her tongue dancing around the head of Y/n's cock as she began to take it deeper. Y/n's hands clenched the bedsheets, her knuckles turning white as she fought the urge to push Karina's head down further. Instead, she focused on the feeling of Karina's hair brushing against her thighs and the way her eyes never left hers, filled with a fiery determination to bring her to the edge.

The older member's experience was evident in every stroke and suck, her pace unrelenting as she worked Y/n's cock. Y/n's moans grew louder, filling the room with a symphony of pleasure that echoed off the walls. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before, and she knew she was close to the brink.

Karina could sense it too, her eyes dark with desire as she pulled away, leaving Y/n's cock glistening with her saliva. "I want you to feel me," she whispered, her voice husky with need. She stood up, her own arousal evident in the way she moved, and began to strip off her pants.

Y/n watched, mesmerized, as Karina revealed her bare skin, her own hand still clutching her cock, the need for release almost unbearable. Karina's eyes never left hers as she straddled Y/n's hips, her own wetness coating her thighs. With a slow, deliberate movement, she positioned herself over Y/n's cock, the tip teasing her entrance.

"Ready?" Karina asked, her voice low and seductive. Y/n nodded, her breath coming in short gasps. With a wicked smile, Karina began to lower herself, taking Y/n's cock inch by inch, her walls stretching to accommodate the unfamiliar sensation.

The feeling was indescribable, a mix of pleasure and pain that only grew more intense as Karina's body enveloped hers. Y/n watched in awe as the older member's face contorted with pleasure, her eyes never leaving Y/n's. With a final push, she was fully seated, her pussy gripping Y/n's cock tightly.

"O-h, ffffuck," Karina breathed, her voice filled with a mix of surprise and delight. She began to rock her hips slowly, her movements deliberate and calculated to drive Y/n wild. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever experienced, the softness of Karina's flesh around her cock sending bolts of pleasure through her body.

Y/n's eyes rolled back in her head as Karina began to move in earnest, her hips rising and falling in a rhythm that seemed to be choreographed by desire itself. The older member's breasts bounced with every thrust, her nipples grazing Y/n's nipples as she moaned in pleasure. Y/n could feel her own orgasm building, the pressure in her balls reaching a crescendo.

"M-more," she whimpered, her voice barely audible. Karina chuckled, the sound vibrating through her chest and sending ripples of pleasure through Y/n's cock. "Is that all you've got, baby?" she taunted, increasing her pace.

Y/n could feel her climax approaching like a freight train, unstoppable and all-consuming. Her hips met Karina's with a fervor she didn't know she had, her hands roaming the older member's body as if it were the last time she'd ever touch her. Karina's moans grew louder, her grip on Y/n's shoulders tightening as she took her in fully, her hips moving in a dance that was both mesmerizing and erotic.

Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, their rhythm a silent conversation that spoke of trust and desire. Y/n felt her orgasm building, a coil of pleasure tightening in her stomach. "Cum in me, baby," Karina breathed, her voice thick with lust. The words sent a jolt through Y/n, and she couldn't hold back any longer.

With a cry that was half-moan, half-whimper, Y/n's body convulsed as she came, her cock pulsing inside Karina. The feeling was overwhelming, a release that seemed to shake her to her very core. Karina's eyes lit up with triumph as she felt the warmth fill her, her own orgasm crashing over her in waves.

The room was silent except for their heavy breathing and the rustling of the bedsheets. Karina collapsed onto Y/n, her body a warm, comforting weight that made Y/n feel both protected and exposed. She could feel Karina's heart beating against her chest, a rhythm that matched her own.

"You did so well," Karina murmured, kissing the side of Y/n's neck. Her words were soothing, but Y/n felt a strange mix of emotions—relief, satisfaction, and a hint of embarrassment. She had never been so open with anyone before, and the intimacy of the moment was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"Thank you," Y/n managed to say, her voice still shaky from the intense pleasure. She felt a gentle hand on her cheek, turning her face to meet Karina's gaze. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, she realized how much she had needed this connection, this validation from someone she admired so much.

Karina's thumb traced her cheekbone, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding. "You're welcome, but you don't need to thank me," she said softly. "We're a team, and I'm always here for you."

Y/n nodded, a tear sliding down her cheek. "I know," she whispered, her voice hoarse from her cries of pleasure. "But I've never felt like…this before."

Karina's expression softened, her eyes full of affection as she leaned in to kiss away the tear. "It's all new," she murmured. "But I promise, it only gets better."

Their bodies remained connected, their hearts beating as one as they lay there, basking in the afterglow of their shared release. The tension of the day had melted away, replaced by a warmth that seemed to fill every corner of the room.

"You're so beautiful when you come," Karina said, her voice filled with a newfound affection. She leaned in to kiss Y/n's cheek, her own breathing still heavy. Y/n blushed, feeling a mix of pride and vulnerability.

Withdrawing from their intimate embrace, Karina climbed off the bed, her legs wobbly from the intensity of their encounter. She reached down and slid her fingers through the slickness between her thighs, bringing them to her mouth to taste the tangy mixture of their juices. She closed her eyes, savoring the flavor, before letting out a satisfied laugh.

Y/n watched, a curious blend of awe and shyness, as Karina's eyes sparkled with mischief. "You're so wild," she murmured, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. Karina leaned over, her hand still coated with their combined essence, and kissed her deeply. Y/n could taste herself on the older member's lips, a heady sensation that only served to stir her desires once more.

[signhub24]

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[srslyblvck]

fractured bonds, kaz brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

synopsis: y/n is captured by pekka's men, kaz goes to rescue her.

warnings: violence, wounds, blood

word count: 1.1k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ KETTERDAM THRIVED IN CHAOS, its streets alive with the cacophony of crime and commerce, where fortunes were made and lost in the blink of an eye. The city was a merciless beast, feeding on the weak and vulnerable, yet it offered endless opportunities to those daring enough to seize them. Shadows lurked in every corner, and danger was a constant companion. The Barrel, in particular, was a cesspool of vice, a playground for criminals and schemers. It was here, amidst the darkened alleys and looming warehouses, that Kaz Brekker ruled, the indomitable leader of the Dregs, a gang as feared as the city itself.

But tonight, Ketterdam's chaos had turned against Kaz. For days, he and the Crows had been searching for Y/N, scouring every corner of the city, but to no avail. She had been taken by Pekka Rollins' men, and the thought of her in their clutches gnawed at him like a festering wound. He moved through the shadows, his cane tapping rhythmically against the cobblestones, his mind a tempest of rage and fear. He couldn't afford to lose her—not Y/N, who had become an indispensable part of the Crows and, though he'd never admit it, to him.

Kaz Brekker's cane tapped against the cobblestone as he manoeuvred through the narrow alleys of Ketterdam. Each step was calculated, and precise, masking the storm brewing inside him.

The abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city loomed like a spectre, its windows dark and broken, the stench of decay thick in the air. Kaz moved with purpose, his steps steady despite the limp that had become a part of him. The information had been hard-won, pried from the lips of a desperate informant, but it had led him here. Alone, with no time to gather the rest of the Crows, he pushed open the creaking door and stepped inside.

The warehouse loomed before him, a hulking shadow against the night sky. Kaz slipped inside, silent as a ghost. The smell hit him first—damp, decay, and the unmistakable copper tang of blood. He gritted his teeth, his gloved hand tightening on his cane. He moved through the debris-strewn space, his eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of Y/N.

And then he saw her.

Y/N was crumpled in a corner, her form barely recognizable through the bruises and blood. Kaz's heart lurched, a rare flicker of emotion breaking through his cold exterior. He approached her cautiously, his steps careful, as if the very ground could betray him.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice a low rasp. There was no response. He crouched down, his knee protesting the movement, but he ignored the pain. He reached out, his gloved hand hovering above her battered form.

Her eyelids fluttered, and she let out a small, pained moan. Kaz's jaw tightened. He needed to get her out of here. Now. He slid his arm under her shoulders, preparing to lift her.

"No," she whispered, her voice cracked and weak. "Kaz... you don't have to..."

"Be quiet," he snapped, though there was a rare gentleness in his tone. He shifted his cane to his left hand and, with deliberate care, slid his arms beneath her fragile frame. She gasped in pain, but he held her close, his grip firm but as gentle as he could manage.

Kaz moved as quickly as his injury would allow, each step a calculated effort. The warehouse loomed around them, a labyrinth of shadows and decay, but he navigated it with practised ease. Y/N's weight was a reminder of her fragility, of how close they had come to losing her.

Kaz moved swiftly, the warehouse fading into the night as he carried her back to the Slat. Each step was a testament to his determination, the pain in his leg a distant echo compared to the fear of losing her. He burst through the doors, the sudden commotion drawing the attention of the Crows who had gathered in his absence.

"Nina!" Kaz barked, his voice commanding, brooking no argument. The Heartrender appeared, her face a mask of concern as she saw Y/n's condition. Inej and the others followed, their expressions ranging from shock to fury.

"Fix her," Kaz ordered, his eyes hard as steel. He laid Y/n down gently on the nearest table, stepping back to give Nina space. The Heartrender's hands moved with practiced precision, the room falling silent as she worked.

Kaz stood like a sentinel, his gaze never leaving Y/n. "If anything happens to her—" he began, his voice low and dangerous, but Nina cut him off.

"Nothing will happen to her, Kaz," she said firmly, her hands moving over Y/n's wounds with surety. The confidence in her voice was a balm, but it did little to ease the storm raging within him.

He watched Nina work, every second stretching into an eternity. Y/N's breathing grew steadier, her face relaxing as the pain ebbed. When Nina finally stepped back, exhaustion lining her features, Kaz felt a fraction of the tension ease.

"She'll need rest," Nina said, wiping her hands on a cloth. "But she'll recover."

Kaz nodded, the closest he could come to expressing gratitude. He moved to Y/N's side, looking down at her peaceful face. The sight of her, alive and breathing, was a balm to his frayed nerves.

Kaz's cold fury resurfaced. He left the Slat without a word, his destination clear in his mind. Pekka Rollins would pay for this. Breaking into Pekka's base was no easy feat, but Kaz was a master of the impossible. He moved like a ghost, his cane an extension of his will as he dispatched guards and slipped through security measures.

He finally reached the heart of Pekka's lair, where the man himself lounged, surrounded by his most trusted men. Kaz didn't hesitate. With a swift, brutal efficiency, he fought his way through them, his movements precise and lethal. His cane became a weapon, its steel tip striking with deadly accuracy.

Pekka, taken by surprise, found himself on his knees, staring up at Kaz with a mix of fear and fury.

"You think you can take what's mine and get away with it?" Kaz's voice was a deadly whisper. "If you ever lay a hand on any of my Crows again, I will destroy you. And don't think for a second that I won't."

Pekka glared at him, but Kaz's cold, unyielding gaze didn't waver. He turned and left, his message delivered, leaving Pekka to contemplate the consequences of his actions.

Hours passed, the Slat gradually returning to its usual state of organized chaos. Kaz remained by Y/N's side, his mind a whirlwind of plans and strategies. Pekka Rollins would pay for this. He would tear the Barrel apart brick by brick if he had to.

Y/N stirred, her eyes opening slowly. She looked up at him, confusion giving way to relief. "Kaz..."

"You're safe now," he said, his voice as cold and steady as ever. "Rest. We'll talk later."

She nodded, too exhausted to argue. As she drifted back to sleep, Kaz allowed himself a rare moment of vulnerability. He reached out, his gloved hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. It was a fleeting touch, almost imperceptible, but it spoke volumes.

Kaz Brekker, the Bastard of the Barrel, had his weaknesses. And Y/N was the most dangerous one of all.

[under-cotton-and-calicos]

Take Me Back To Eden

Multiple Ghosts x AFAB Reader

AN: It’s been a long while. I’ve been busy [insert unhinged ao3 author life update here]. This has been sitting in my drafts for the LONGEST time jeez. Wasn’t really satisfied with any of the directions it took so I finally sat down and committed to something. May or may not have a sequel. I recommend listening to “Descending” by Sleep Token while you read this. As the title implies, I’m kinda obsessed with the band right now. Enjoy!

tags: cult sex, orgy, heavy dubcon, ghosts, ancient deity, mind manipulation, oral sex, vaginal penetration, rough sex, WEIRD CUM

Word count: 3.9k

With a pathetic sputter, the incessant humming of your old corolla’s engine gives way to silence. For a few moments, you sit in the dark and quiet, a mixture of excitement and anxiety raising goosebumps on your skin. You’ve done this hundreds of times, you’re sure that today you’re going to get your big hit. It has to be.

You slam your car door shut and take a deep breath, a gym bag filled with equipment and cameras slung over one shoulder, your free hand guiding the beam of your heavy duty torch across the entrance of the abandoned bar. The old, faded sign perched above its entrance is unreadable, faintly you can make out traces of looping letters. Its battered and dusty exterior belies the rumours you’ve heard about the place.

You were supposed to come with your posse, but every single one of them had work or family issues that cropped up at the last minute. Not one to be deterred by fear, you ended up making the drive down alone. In spite of the cool night, your skin is warm with anticipation as you cross the threshold and slip into the bar.

Not much is known about its origins or history- it’s a small, rundown lot in a slow and quiet part of town, so no one has ever paid it much attention. It had been a hole-in-the-wall style pub that attracted a small and dedicated group of patrons before mysteriously closing abruptly. Hours of digging through the net gave you enough reason to suspect that there was an abnormal cause behind why it still hadn’t been bought out for decades, though. The reports of ghostly apparitions in the crevices of obscure forums led you down a rabbit hole. Soon enough, you managed to find a video posted online, taken by some teenagers roped in by a bet. You studied it for hours, pausing at every frame.

You can still remember the sweet thrill, the goosebumps that formed on your skin when you noticed the wispy, grey figures hidden behind corners in several frames. Jackpot. 

Your friends had told you that they were edited but your gut told you otherwise. There was a genuine fear in those kids’ eyes, you bet on it.

As you manoeuvre through old tables and chairs, you notice that the furniture is still well kept, barring the fact that everything is covered in layers of dust.The retro style bar, stools and shelves are all in good condition, though lacking bottles of booze and the typical drink making paraphernalia. Maybe someone still cares for the place? 

You notice a few doors that hadn’t been explored in the video, so you try each handle, one of them leading to an empty storage room, another leading to a kitchen behind the bar, the next to a decrepit restroom. Curiously, there’s a long stairway behind a stuffy curtain going down to what you presume is a basement door. There’s an inlaid symbol on the door, made from burnished golden metal, its fine quality at odds with everything else in the bar. You’ve never seen anything like it before- the silhouette of a tree firmly rooted to the earth, its branches and roots reminiscent of…horns?

There’s something compelling about it. Your stomach dips at the thought of you opening the door, but you want to. There’s something on the other side of it.

When you yank on the handle, it doesn’t budge, breaking you out of your momentary stupor. You shake your head and blink. 

Caught up in the moment?

“Damn.” You sigh. Typically, you would leave lockpicking to another one of your friends. There isn’t much you can do about it, so you decide to set up a few thermal cameras overlooking the tables and bar, as well as an REM pod for proximity detection on the countertop.

Kneeling behind the countertop, you turn on your spirit box, its harsh white noise filling the quiet. Through the static, you call into the night.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

There’s no response, but you introduce yourself and continue. You’re well accustomed to this pattern already, after years of this. The hauling of equipment, meticulously setting everything up, dicking around for a few hours and then packing up and heading home. Keep the time spent idle low, and expectations even lower. Perhaps it’s because you’re alone tonight. There’s a charge in the atmosphere, a certain secrecy and wonder to the ritual.

“I'd really like it if you told me your name.”

“Like.” The artificial, crackly word emerges from the static.

“Yes, I’d like it if you introduced yourself too.” You wait a few more moments before the next word. For a while, monosyllabic words are all you receive. So you dig and prompt until you tag onto something.

“More.”

“More?”

“M…More tha-an.” 

“There’s more than one of you?” You say, peering around the empty bar. There’s no sign of the specters from the video, only swirling mites of dust suspended in the air under the glow of your torchlight. “Where are you?”

“H-Here.”

Suddenly, your REM pod flashes green, red, blue against the shadows, signalling that something is close by, very close by. But instead of its typical bleeping, a warbled wail echoes through the empty bar, causing you to flinch from how loud it is. The fuck?

You turn around and direct your torch towards the pod. Your heart falters.

A crowd of grey specters are standing behind the counter, their forms towering over where you’re kneeled on the ground. Their bodies are featureless, rippling as though they could blink out of existence at any moment, at odds with the physical realm. For a second, you can’t bring yourself to do anything. You feel dread, you're stunned, but underneath it all, the irrational, ghost hunting geek in you is baffled. Holy shit, holy shit.

You jump to your feet, backed against the shelves. Their heads tilt upwards, following your movement. And then you’re fleeing, terror driving you to run from the very situation that you’ve been chasing down for years.

The moment you’re behind the steering wheel, you step on the gas, your corolla protesting as it's jolted out of its sleep and forced to shoot down the empty street. You don’t stop to turn and look.

“Wait.” A real voice overlaps with the one coming from your spirit box still clutched in your sweaty palm, but you don’t stop, turning the corner around the countertop and passing through an ethereal, translucent arm reaching out to stop you. You burst out of the bar into the cooler night air and shakily jam your key into your car, cursing as you struggle to get the door open.

Holy shit, you chant over and over again, they’re real, they’re real!

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

Your alarm wakes you from a restless slumber, one of many in the past few months. With a groan, you fumble for your phone with your eyes still closed and turn it off. 

“Fuck…” You curse at the soreness in your back and slick between your legs. It happened again last night.

Tugging your underwear down, you stare at the sticky mess you’d created in your sleep. Glimpses of your dream, or nightmare, flash through your head, sending a quiver down your spine. Your breath hitches at the thought, you palm your stiff nipples through your ratty old shirt and begin fingering your cunt, warm and dripping wet. 

You’ve been tormented by a string of dreams lately, each one leaving you aching in the morning. So much so that you have had to incorporate masturbation into your morning routine. It’s never satisfying though, your fingers and toys don’t come even close to what you experience in the nasty recesses of the dreamscape hidden in your mind. All of them are vivid and realistic, but when you wake, you can only recall little snatches- greedy hands taking their fill of your body and being bent over, being filled…being defiled.

And with your equipment left at the bar, what can you do? There is no evidence of your findings. You can’t tell your friends that you’ve been having wet dreams almost incessantly since that night alone in the bar. You would seem like a lunatic.

But it wouldn’t be wrong to call this a kind of madness. Frantic and possessive. Bodies cast in vibrant colour, shadowed and swaying against you. Cast in the black behind your eyelids is a gold insignia, beckoning you closer and closer.

With a whimper, you cum, body folding over and shaking as you ride out your climax. Temporarily satiated, you slump back into your pillows dramatically, staring at your ceiling. Something from that bar had followed you home. And you want to go back.

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

The empty district is just as quiet as it was the last time you were here. It’s a cold night, and you tug your sweater around your shoulders as you lean back in your car seat. It’s undeniable that you’re a little scared- you feel like one of those idiot teenagers in horror movies that get themselves killed for wandering recklessly into danger. Again, something tells you that it’s different. Or maybe you’re just horny.

With your torch in one hand and your phone in the other, you enter the bar. All of your equipment is just as you left it. You trace your finger over the REM pod on the countertop, dusty but intact. It’s…quiet.

What did you expect? To get jumped the moment you came in? There’s no sign of the specters as well. You’re a bit disappointed, because it means that those dreams you’ve been having might not have been supernatural at all, and worse, the specters might have been a figment of your imagination.

Just as you resolve to pack up your things and leave, a sliver of light catches your eye, cast against the dark floor. Purple light streams between the curtains that lead to the locked basement. Your heart begins to pick up pace again, and you rush over, brushing aside the thick, heavy fabric to see the stairway down illuminated. The door is open!

“H-Hello?” You call out, flicking your torchlight off and leaning it against a step. With hesitant steps, you descend, eyes adjusting to the dim artificial light. You know this atmosphere, this tension in the air from the distinctive purple haze of your dreams. Almost instinctively, your core warms and you can feel yourself shiver, a conditioned response.

 When you reach the base of the stairs, your breath stalls in your throat and you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips. The same apparitions that have been haunting your dreams are there, facing you, as if waiting for your inevitable return. Your nervous eyes scan the rest of the room, it looks like you’ve stepped into another realm entirely- gone are the cheap and neon plastics of the bar, there’s a pool of fabrics and pillows, and an altar, carved from stone with tall pillars of candles by its sides.

Dazed, you don’t realise that you’ve been walking until you’re a few feet in front of the specters, their heads following you uncannily. 

“I-I…” You sputter, jittery under their heavy, obscured gaze. They haven’t even done anything to you yet, but your head is all cotton and gauze. Slowly, you sink to your knees.

“My dreams. I’ve seen you there.” You say, awe-struck. A delicate voice replies, soft as a gossamer sheet.

“I am glad that you’ve returned.” It confuses you. You’re not sure if the voice is coming from one of the specters before you or if it’s echoing through your head, like you’re on a phone call with someone in the same room as you. Up close, their forms are ethereal, shimmering and tinted purple from the lights, shifting ever-so-slightly.

You can still make out the shape of a mouth and a nose on their faces, as well as outlines of their limbs and hands. One reaches out to you, fitting the curve of your cheek in the palm of their hand- your eyes widen at the touch, it feels real, cold but solid against you.

“Good one…pretty one…” They close around you, clamouring to touch you. A hand combs through your hair, traces the curve of your ear, another slides past the collar of your shirt to the dip between your shoulder blades, and one presses its fingers against your lips.

Strange, you think, opening your mouth obediently for the cold fingers to savour the wet warmth of your tongue. Every cell in your body is alight, bristling with energy and ready to burst at the seams. This is what you’ve been wanting for so, so long. 

How could I have been terrified of them before this?

“More, more.” Not enough of you is exposed it seems. You shed your sweater, your hard nipples visible through thin fabric. The atmosphere bristles a bit, you think, as you finally discard your shirt, your breasts and inviting skin on display for them to grab at, their touch growing more hungry.

They whisper, trailing lower and lower. You close your eyes for just a moment, the jostling bodies around you giving way to darkness as you relish in the feeling of hands that grope your chest, firm nipples being pinched and tugged at, your bare body slowly becoming accustomed to their supernatural chill. Something bumps against your lips and you smile, opening your eyes once again to bat your eyelashes up at the specter that has its stiff cock in hand, unabashedly asking for entry.

You open wide, sticking your tongue out for the specter to slide its head against you. You think you hear a whimper, and you’re pleased to feel it twitching as you close your mouth around it, humming as you bob your head and take more of its length down your throat. It’s solid, hard like a human’s, and you can feel the bump of veins trailing down its shaft. Behind you, one kneels down and presses its torso up against your back, a hand cupping your soaking sex and another kneading your breast. 

“Here…!” Two more specters hovering over you tug at your arms impatiently, wrapping your hands around their own dicks. Obliging their requests, you stroke them lazily, eyes flitting between all of the spirits that surround you. The ones that are not latched to your body stand a short distance away, fisting themselves, undoubtedly staring at you get busy. Underneath their innumerable gaze, you’re exhilarated, and a thought flits through your mind- they’ll all have a chance to run you through later, and you’ll be able to experience it all in reality. 

The specter shoves two fingers into your needy hole, grinding them against your sweet spot. You falter, but the specter that’s in your mouth clamps its hands around your head, sinking so deep that your face is flush with their crotch. The two rut into your tightened grip, gasping and groaning fills your head.

“So good…so good…Ah!” 

When a finger flicks at your clit, you cum hard, body arching and thighs quaking. You’re stunned momentarily, and you swallow back the spit pooling in your throat, squeezing around the specter. Suddenly, its grip in your hair grows stronger, bordering on pain as it cums too, cold, thick liquid shooting into the back of your throat and covering your tongue. It tastes like nothing, you note, gasping for air when it detaches from you and releases its grip on your head.

What catches you off guard is the colour of its seed, a thick white substance that drips down your chin onto the floor between your legs, giving off an otherworldly glow. Immediately, another takes its place- the one on the right that had you fisting its cock guides it into your mouth and plugs you up again. This one is less patient, it holds you in place and fucks into your mouth. They use you like a sex toy, taking turns occupying your hands and mouth, grabbing at your chest and fingering your cunt. Any hesitation or endearing nervousness that occupied the specters has disappeared, and you’re elated. You lose count of how many have cum on you, they spill on your face, your chest, covering you in their ungodly semen. It becomes a dizzying cycle, and between your climaxes and theirs’, you lavish them with all that you can give, just as you did in your dreams. What you can take down your throat, you do gladly, an appreciative hum is your reward when you obediently swallow and accept the spurts of cum onto your body.

Suddenly, after a specter smears its cum across your tits, you’re pulled to your feet. Shaky and tired legs unable to support your body, you’re carried over to the altar that you saw earlier and laid upon it. It’s the perfect height, and you groan as a specter grinds its cock against your wet folds. Your legs are spread wide apart, and the empty spaces around you are quickly taken by eager spirits. They pause though, and seem to wait for something patiently. A name is called, something unintelligible, not in the human tongue, not anything you’ve heard before.

They say something in an alien tongue, and look upwards to the ceiling. There is something you didn’t notice before, the same sigil as the one on the door is painted there. In a split second, a collage of memories are made clear in your mind’s eye- you see offerings of wine and food, people kneeling before hulking statues and trees, orgies in secluded areas where hedonism flourishes, lush with the scent of sex and flowers.

The specter between your legs breaks you out of your reverie, and you’re suddenly in the basement once again, fully aware of your dripping cunt, the need. There’s an energy in the room that wasn’t there previously, charged and crackling. You groan when it fits its bulbous head against your entrance, hands kneading the flesh of your thighs as it enters you. And finally, finally you are one with them. You stare entranced at where you are joined, its thick, translucent cock stretching your starved cunt.

“Fuck me, please.” You rasp, throwing your head back when it begins to thrust into you, setting a brutal pace. Again, the specters crowd around you and put you to work. Closing your eyes, you lose yourself in the wave of pleasure, the friction of the heavy cock in your pussy, the numerous hands that guide you and delight in the touch of your skin.

“You…you…” The voice bristles in your head, and there it is again- snatches of that scene and the voice, it’s getting stronger. You can barely focus, between the ghostly bodies all around you and the thread of a connection to It. They’re both equally addictive- the delicious stretch and fill, the wandering hands all over your overstimulated body, and the irresistible draw to something powerful and primordial. Closer, closer, closer.

The specter fucking into you quivers, its pace quickening and its thrusts growing shallower. It’s about to cum inside you, and you wrap your legs around its translucent torso to force it even deeper inside. In response, its hands grab your hips with so much force that you’re sure they’re going to bruise.

“Perfect.” The word is whispered into the shell of your ear, low but with the power of a command. Instantly, you feel like euphoria has flooded your body, too much of it. Every sensation is painfully amplified, the bliss of each thrust between your legs rapturous and overwhelming. You cum, and the specter does too, you can feel its cold seed like ice in your hot, hot cunt, flooding you, seeping into your being. Every cell in your body is screeching from pleasure so high that it hurts. 

“Oh. Too much?” 

There’s tears streaming down your cheeks. Your thoughts are melting together and no words form on your tongue, all you can manage is a pathetic nod as your body seizes in agony and orgasmic bliss.

“Apologies, it’s been a while.” It says, and just as quick as it compelled you, the euphoria is sapped from your body. The relief is another form of pleasure, and as you relax, you feel a gush of liquid seep past where you’re joined to the specter- you’re squirting, a puddle of it forming on the altar and dripping onto the floor. 

“Sensitive, aren’t you?” It whispers again, cool and calm as you gasp for breath. “I like it.”

“What…what-” You’re cut off by the specter dragging its cock out of you, leaving you gaping for the next one in line. You let out a high-pitched whine as the mix of semen and your slick spills out of you. As though to comfort you, one specter cradles your cheek and promptly nudges its dick past your lips. They seem to be oblivious to the conversation going on, or they carry on in spite of it.

“Don’t think. Just let go.” Another cock is thrust into you, barely giving you any reprieve as it pounds into you, intent on getting you filled again.

What are you?

“A vague question gets you a vague answer.” It tuts, “I am the bliss that found its way into your dreams, the cruelty that left you wanting more, and the hunger that brought you back here to me.”

Hands reach out to pinch and twist your nipples and clit, forcing you to let out a muffled yelp.

“It hardly seems fair for you to pay little attention to those who have been fucking you so vigorously. Well, given that you can’t form a coherent thought, the ones that have you speared on their cocks are my most devoted followers. They have been so gracious as to offer their spirits for my perusal.”

And now you understand- it’s a god, an ancient deity on the ceiling looking down upon you, casting its impartial and frigid gaze on this debauchery, orchestrated for its sake.

“And you, my little pleasure, are the first taste of life I’ve had down here in a long time.” Its tone has a vicious bite, excitement palpable. At that, the specters, or puppets in you cum, the elation of their master influencing their own pleasure, no doubt. You choke around the cock forced down your throat, cutting off your breathing until it pulls free from you and you choke down air and seed.

You’re so replete, so tired, you’re not sure whether you can take anymore-

“You will.” 

Warily, you sweep your gaze across the hoard of hungry spirits hunched over you.

“After all, isn’t this what you wanted?”

Throughout the night, you’re used over and over, your poor cunt fucked and filled more times than you can count. Just as you think it may end, another specter is between your legs, alternating between lapping up the mess between your legs and pumping its seed into you again. All while some ancient and cruel god speaks to you. With each climax, you feel your consciousness slipping further away, the teasing and praise of the voice in your ear growing ever more distant…

When you wake, you’re exhausted. The specters had disappeared, leaving you on the altar. Despite the throbbing in your core and muscles, you manage to pull your clothes back on and make your way up the stairs, the unpleasant stickiness of your skin urging you to get home as soon as possible so you can take a shower.

A draft sends a chill down your spine, a whisper like a caress brushes past you.

I’ll see you soon, little pleasure.

You’re relieved to see your corolla on the streetside, and as you limp to your car you make a mental note to pack up your equipment the next time you’re here.

[mythicamagic]

Two Black Sheep: Scar x Female Rover oneshot

Summary: Rover crossed her arms over her chest, avoiding his probing gaze. “We likely don’t have much time so I’ll get straight to the point: how are they treating you here?”

Scar’s mirth died down, smile turning patronizing. “Much like our little game in the village, I’ll let you work out the truth for yourself. Truth is always better as a wonderful discovery, rather than fodder fed to you by someone else.”

Female Rover x Scar.

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AN: This game isn’t even out yet what am I doing?

This takes place a little later on in the story, so mild spoilers (though I don’t know if they’ll still include this story beat into the released game after seeing it in the most recent Beta test). I fell in love with Scar as an antagonist while watching content creators stream this game so here we are. 

Rated T, 2500 words. You can find this on Ao3 too.

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Jinzhou city lay quiet and peaceful at night, a shining, glittering jewel of captive lights in the dark. Despite traversing through much of Huanglong, the sight of the pale fortress remained a stunning one to Rover. It stood tall and protective of its people, but she’d always gotten the sense there was more to it. A strength built into the stone; or a set of metal teeth lying in wait beneath its demure exterior. 

This suspicion was confirmed upon stepping into Jinzhou’s underground prison. The first few floors were pleasant and bright, only a few guards posted at the doors. As Rover was led deeper however, taking a lift down, down, down into the dark depths of Jinzhou’s fortress, the atmosphere palpably changed.

It reminded her of entering a Tacet Field, feeling subtle vibrations hum in the air. Strong energies called out in the dark; prisoners waiting in their cells. Not all of them were Resonators, but she felt them nonetheless. They were agitated and restless, some pacing in front of the doors to their cells as she stepped off the elevator and passed by. A few were tied up even when secured behind metal bars, their arms strapped to their torsos.

It was a different side of Jinzhou that Rover had been unfamiliar with until now; a grimy and cruel underbelly. She faced forward when some prisoners began shouting, cat-calling her and rousing the attention of the hallway in a domino effect as she passed by. The guards eventually stopped at the very last door of the hall- this one without the luxury of a window to peer inside the cell. The great iron door hissed and groaned on its hinges as the locks slid open. 

Rover caught the moment the lights switched on before she was ushered in. 

He’s been in total darkness all this time?

She outwardly gave little reaction at the sight that greeted her. Naturally stone-faced, Rover relied on her blank mask like a crutch in that moment. A wide metal collar sat around the prisoner’s neck-  steel spikes lining the inside pointing inward toward his jugular like a circle of teeth. Poles connected the collar to the cell walls, forcing him to stay on his feet in the center of the room. She noted his arms were bound behind his back, no signs of wounds on his body.

Blearily eyes blinked at her, adjusting to the light. 

Scar lifted his head slowly. Interest livened his features the second it seemed to click who he was staring at. He jolted, rattling the poles and sucking in a sharp breath, as though imbued with life.

“Well, well...this is a pleasant surprise, dear Rover,” he rasped. Mismatched eyes smiled with laser focused intensity. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Rover ignored him and forced a smile at the guards flanking her sides. “You can leave me alone with him. I’ll be alright.”

The men exchanged worried looks. “It is not that we do not trust you, illustrious guest. It is that the Magistrate gave clear orders that we protect you at all times during your visit. Leaving you alone seems unwise, given the level of notoriety this criminal has earned.”

Jinhsi. She was probably right to be concerned. Scar hadn’t been easy to capture and the level of security surrounding his cell was testament to his abilities. One slip up meant escape. On the other hand, Rover couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something uneasy in her gut.

“I’ll be vigilant. Your priority should be to keep him detained, not my safety,” she turned and laid a hand on the older guard’s arm, looking up at him through her lashes. “If anything happens I’ll call for you, I promise." She squeezed his bicep for good measure.

The guard shifted, clearing his throat. He gave a nod and gestured for his companion to leave, giving her a tight squeeze on the shoulder in parting, finally leaving the room. The metal door slid shut behind them with a hiss.

Left alone in the quiet room together, Scar was quick to quirk a brow. “I didn’t know you were capable of using your appeal like that. The poor man will be thinking about your pretty face for days. Be careful such tactics don’t land you in hot water.”

Rover crossed her arms over her chest, avoiding his probing gaze. “We likely don’t have much time so I’ll get straight to the point: how are they treating you in here?”

More open surprise flitted across his face. It was such a sharp contrast to his usually unflappable, grinning persona. Scar tilted his head and gave an impish grin. “How interesting! You surely didn’t come all the way here just to inquire after my wellbeing. Did Madame Magistrate put you up to this? A new tactic to get me to talk?” He chuckled, rattling the poles with the force of his stifled laughter. “It’s impressive, I’ll give her that.  Very compelling. I’d much rather talk to you than anyone else in this forsaken place, even if it becomes an interrogation.”

Solitary confinement certainly hasn’t impacted his ability to talk, Rover noted dryly. His voice sounded slightly hoarse to her ears though. “Just answer the question.”

Scar’s mirth died down, smile turning patronizing. “Much like our little game in the village, I’ll let you work out the truth for yourself. Truth is always better as a wonderful discovery, rather than fodder fed to you by someone else.”

Shifting her weight, Rover took one step closer, then another. His predatory smile widened at her proximity, flashing teeth at her steady approach.

Thinking things over, Rover glanced at his torso. His tight red and gray bodysuit revealed his proportions a bit too well at times, but it hid everything of his skin.  

Well if she wanted answers she could just ask his body directly. 

Rover reached out and poked beneath his ribs.

“Gn!” a harsh breath hissed out through clenched teeth, his whole frame shuddering. Scar grinned soon after, shooting her a wary look. 

“Wasn’t much of a wonderful discovery, was it?” Rover drawled, reaching behind her hip and taking out a container. She shook it, depositing food rations out onto her open palm. Maintaining eye-contact, she bit into the dried meat, chewing and watching how his attention dropped to her lips. His mouth thinned into a hard, grim line. 

The sound of a stomach rumbling filled the room. 

“We’re two for two,” she noted, securing the container again and taking out her water bottle. His gaze was immediately wide and imploring, gazing at it longingly. 

Rover sighed, offering the rim of the bottle out to him. “I don’t think I need any more evidence. Just drink already.” 

Scar lifted his head, that unusual pale white hair of his sliding into mismatched eyes. She’d been able to look into them once before, when he’d initially been apprehended. One flinty gray, the other a dull red. She’d been distracted back then, but without so much as a window inside the room to draw her attention away, Rover could admit there was something beckoning about his appearance. He wasn’t unattractive by any means- though she quickly shook that thought away.

At his uncharacteristic silence, Rover frowned. Putting the pieces together, she lowered the bottle. “It’s not poisoned if that’s what worries you.”

He laughed. “Oh dear sweet Rover. I don’t think you're capable of poisoning anyone. Far too earnest for such underhanded methods,” he shook his head. “No, no. It’s not you I doubt. Madame Magistrate though- and those guards? They’d jump at the chance to slip a member of the Fractsidus a little something. What’s more, they have the perfect little scapegoat right here.”

Inferring his meaning, Rover’s blood ran cold, becoming uncomfortably aware of her position. “...They wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t they?” he purred, leaning as close as he dared, heedless of the spikes threatening to puncture his skin. “I’ve told you so many times now not to misplace your trust. Especially not in those you barely know: and with amnesia making you so ripe for manipulation its a recipe for hurt,” he practically sighed the words. His tone was casual, but he was smiling, very, very widely. “If you really did come here of your own accord, they’ll mark this day on your record. A smear. They’ll have eyes on you, watching your every move- anticipating the day you turn traito-!”

Rover shoved the water bottle against his lips. She tilted it up, pushing her fingers into the gaps between the collar spikes to try to alleviate their pressure against his neck. “Just drink. You talk too much.”

Scar made a noise, spilling some liquid- water running down his chin, before he gave in and ultimately drank. He gasped as soon as it seemed to register how thirsty he really was, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed with heightening desperation. 

Once finished, Rover lifted the bottle away, noting the faint sneer of his mouth. 

Cutting her gaze to the ceiling, she lifted the bottle to her lips and titled it back, catching the rest of the remaining water on her tongue. “There. If they want to poison you, they’ll take me out too in the process.”

He blinked rapidly, the derision quickly falling from his expression. He glanced at her hand still woven between the spikes and collar, registering her touch for the first time. 

“You’re such a strange existence,” he murmured softly, turning the full force of his attention onto her. Rover felt her gut lurch the second heat touched his cheeks, reddening them. “If you’re not careful, you’ll win more than just my attention. I’m already serious about obtaining you for the group. If I started to want you for myself…hmn…” a rumbling noise of contentment escaped the depths of his chest. “Just picture it; two black sheep. Ostracized from their herds for different reasons, but finding solace in each other’s jaws. A beautiful picture.”

Rover took out her food ration, bumping it against his mouth to try to prompt him to eat again and hopefully stop talking. “I do one nice thing and you’re talking as though we’re meant for each other,” she sighed, glancing at the door. “I don’t know how long we have left. Eat.”

Opening his mouth, Scar accepted her offering, chewing while staring at her with that keen light in his eyes. 

Seeking to snuff it out, Rover straightened, bearing down upon him with what she hoped was an intimidating glare. “Let’s not get carried away here, Scar. You’ve murdered people in cold blood. You’re still planning on hurting my friends if you ever get out of here. Nothing’s changed between us, are we clear?” she said firmly.

“Crystal,” he swallowed, bypassing her glare to look up at the ceiling with a dreamy gaze he sometimes gained, voice becoming light hearted. “I’ve no plans to hurt your friends specifically though. All that matters is you and me in the grand scheme of things. I really couldn’t care less about those outside of our circle enough to actively target them. It all just sort of…happens in the moment when they come between our little talks.”

Releasing his steel collar now that he’d eaten, Rover made to back away- only for him to lunge- the poles shrieking, collar straining against his neck.

Their noses brushed, breath intermingling. Rover froze up, all her instincts she’d naturally fallen into when fighting Tacet Discords blurred away into nothingness. Her heartbeat slammed into her ribcage. She couldn’t move suddenly. 

The instability she’d glimpsed so many times in his gaze was back with full force. A kind of euphoric high brightened his irises. “You haven’t asked me anything about Fractsidus! I find that so strange and fun. If you were here on Madame Magistrates orders, you’d be going back empty handed. So…” Scar’s lips ghosted her cheek without pressing down, resting snugly against the shell of her ear. “Why did you really come here?”

Goosebumps raised on her skin. Rover yanked her head back, summoning her best poker face to look at him dispassionately. “I’ll let you work out the truth for yourself,” she said. “Truth is always better as a wonderful discovery, rather than fodder fed to you by someone else.”

She then grasped him under the ribs, threatening to squeeze whatever injuries lay hidden beneath his clothes. Scar inhaled sharply against her cheek- before falling into a sinfully low groan. 

His exhale was shaky, relishing the pain. “You truly are magnificent at whetting my appetite, Rover. A sublime prey.” 

When their pupils next met, Rover’s widened, finding those gray and red eyes equal parts deranged and manic.

Scar laughed when she broke away, his shoulders shaking with mirth. She stiffly moved back toward the safety of the door, banging on it twice with her fist.

His uproarious laughter followed her all the way out, ringing in her ears long after the steel door had shut behind her. She stood amongst the concerned guards, shying away from their casual touches. 

“Are you alright, miss?”

“Did the interrogation go well?”

Rover looked at the younger guard sharply. “I didn’t go in there to interrogate him,” she gritted out, curling her gloved hands into fists. She stepped closer. “There’s no light switched on in there when he's alone. He’s malnourished and dehydrated. What’s more, the guards are delivering corporal punishment behind closed doors. This was an informal inspection, sir. One which you failed.”

His face turned red comically fast. “M-my lady! What would you have us do?! He’s an S rank criminal! We’re too concerned he may escape if we ease up his living conditions.”

“Besides that, he’s a murderer-” the older guard cut in. His eyes narrowed, roving around her face critically. “If you have any sympathy for that man, save it for his innocent victims.”

She rounded on him with a hard sneer. “I don’t condone his actions. However, there’s too much we don’t know- and letting him die means allowing his knowledge and information to die with him. I won’t let that happen if I can help it,” she muttered, turning on her heel and storming down the hallway the way she’d come. Changes would be coming swiftly to Scar’s living situation if she had anything to say about it. Without her memories, information was more important to Rover than anything, and perhaps losing Scar didn't matter to the Jinzhou officials- but it mattered to her.

She could feel their judgemental gazes boring into her back. Maybe it had already started. No, it had started the second she’d requested a visitation without being ordered to see him. Rover half expected Scar’s warning to come true- for the various Jinzhou officials and citizens to start suspecting her of fraternizing with the Fractsidus.

That was fine with her. Though he unnerved her, something about Scar kept forcing Rover to pay attention to him. That no matter how strange and misleading his words were- there was a grain of truth to them somewhere. 

Or, perhaps, he’d been a complete and utter liar from the very start, designed to make her doubt herself and everyone around her.

Either way, Rover saw the value in finding out the truth for herself. 

[fafnir19]

A child is born

The night air was crisp as Colin and Julia Copman, a wealthy and influential couple, stood in their lavish mansion, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. The full moon illuminated the ancient spell book that lay open on the altar before them, its pages yellowed with age.

They had sought this moment for years. Julia, with her warm smile and gentle eyes, longed for a child to complete their family, but her body had other plans. Colin, determined to fulfill his wife's wish, scoured the earth for a solution. His relentless search led him to an ancient tome, promising to hold the key to their problem. On Halloween, in a clandestine ceremony, they gathered the peculiar ingredients. Julia's delicate hands held a small vial containing her blood, a contribution from the heart of the family. Colin, with his sharp features and determined gaze, provided his seed, a symbol of his ambition. To this mixture, they added peculiar elements: the spit of a renowned musical actor, ensuring their child's voice would captivate all who heard it; fingernails from a business tycoon, infusing the child with strategic acumen; and pubic hairs from a celebrated athlete, granting virility and strength. As the final ingredients were gathered, they turned their attention to the centerpiece of the ritual—a pristine white silk blanket. This fabric, soon to be the cradle of their creation, was laid upon the bed, its softness a stark contrast to the dark magic about to unfold. With trembling hands, they poured the concoction onto the silk, watching as it absorbed the essence of their desires. The once-white blanket slowly transformed, its color shifting to a deep, menacing black, mirroring the night sky. The room fell silent, the only sound the steady ticking of the clock, counting down to the birth of their creation. At the stroke of midnight, the blanket stirred. A ripple ran through the fabric, as if something were moving beneath it.

The Copmans held their breath, their eyes fixed on the growing lump. Then, with a final dramatic flourish, a young man emerged, sitting up and shaking off the silk like a newborn awakening from a deep slumber. Curly blond hair framed his face, and his shaved sides added a modern edge to his classic beauty. "Cohen," Julia whispered, her voice filled with awe and relief. Cohen's arrival was met with awe and adoration. He possessed an otherworldly charm that captivated everyone he encountered. Teachers, parents, and peers alike found themselves under his spell, their wills bending to his every word. His physical perfection was matched only by his intellect, making him the ultimate creation, tailored to dominate and succeed in every aspect of life. But beneath the flawless exterior, a dark purpose lurked.

At college, Cohen's path collided with Logan, the son of Jack, a tenant in one of the Copman's many properties. Logan, an average student, found himself both jeoulus and also repelled by Cohen. While Cohen exuded confidence, Logan struggled to find his place, often joining his father's protests against the Copman's gentrification plans.

"You know, Logan," Cohen purred during one of their sociology courses, "you have potential. With a little effort, you could be extraordinary." Logan scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "I don't need your fake compliments, Cohen. I know you're just trying to butter me up." Cohen's smile never wavered. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, my friend. Embrace your potential, and you might just find yourself on the winning side."

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the dilapidated streets of their neighborhood. Jack stood at the front of a small gathering of protestors, their signs held high: “Save Our Homes!” and “No Gentrification!” He was the epitome of an old-school hippy, his spirit defiantly resisting the encroaching corporate world. The air was thick with the scent of autumn leaves and the determination of his fellow tenants. Jack’s long hair billowed in the chill breeze as he raised his voice, “We won’t let the Copmans erase our community for their profit!” “Yeah!” a voice shouted from the crowd. “Fight for our homes!”

When Jack came home Logan, his son, slumped on the worn couch in their small apartment, staring at the flickering light of the TV.

Jack leaned against the peeling paint of the apartment wall, the scent of damp and desperation clinging to him like a second skin. Outside, the city buzzed with the sounds of life—a siren wailing in the distance, the thud of boots on pavement, the distant laughter of college students. He rubbed his temples, the weight of the protest pressing heavily on his shoulders. “Dad, you really think this is going to change anything?” Logan asked, his voice a mixture of skepticism and resignation. “It has to, Logan. They can’t just bulldoze over our lives for a shiny new façade.” Jack’s voice was strained, tinged with the urgency of a man who had fought too long and too hard. Jack clenched his fists, his long hair falling into his eyes. “You’re going to have to work with Cohen on this college project. Use it to get information.” Logan grimaced, scrunching his face in distaste, “Ugh, Cohen? He’s the worst! He’s got that smug smile like he’s better than everyone else.” Jack sighed, his eyes narrowing. “Listen, son, he’s a tool, but you might find a way to use him. Charm and flatter him and you can gather intel on their plans.” Logan rolled his eyes, frustration boiling over. “And become his little puppet? No thanks. He’s insufferable!” “Cohen’s not just some rich kid; he’s a threat. We need to know what they’re planning.” Jack’s voice softened, knowing this was more than just a college project. ““Just try to be civil, you can do this, Logan. I believe in you…. and if he has a weakness, find it. We need every advantage we can get! ” “Fine.” Logan groaned, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “But if he starts talking about his fancy yacht or his stupid ties, I’m out.” Jack chuckled. “You’ll survive. Just remember, you’re the smart one here.”

The Copman mansion loomed before Logan like a dark thundercloud, its grandeur suffocating. As he stepped inside, the chill of the marble floors sent a shiver up his spine. Cohen was already there, lounging on a plush sofa, flipping through a textbook as though it were a mere magazine.

“Hey, Logan!” Cohen’s voice was smooth, almost syrupy. “Glad you could make it. We’re going to crush this project.” Logan forced a smile, feeling the weight of disdain settle in his stomach. “Let’s just get it over with.” “Come on, lighten up! You’re too smart to be so serious all the time,” Cohen said, a hint of mockery in his tone. “With a little effort, you could be quite the catch, you know?” “Yeah, right,” Logan shot back, crossing his arms. “I’d rather not be a puppet.” Cohen’s laughter echoed through the opulent room, a sound that felt foreign against the backdrop of Logan’s frustration. “Puppet? Nah, more like... a partner. Don’t you want to make a difference?” Logan rolled his eyes, but the unease in his gut only intensified. “Not with you.” “Why not?” Cohen leaned closer, a sly grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “I can help you find your voice. You just need to embrace what you’ve got.” Logan swallowed hard, feeling trapped in the thick web of Cohen’s charm. “I’m not your project, Cohen. I’m not here to be your sycophant.” Cohen’s smirk widened, revealing a hint of something darker. “Oh, I think you’ll find you’re more useful to me than you realize.” Logan shivered, an inexplicable chill creeping down his spine. He pushed the feeling aside, determined to keep his guard up. “Let’s just get this over with.” As they began their work, the air grew thick with tension and the stakes were rising higher.

The day dragged on, and as the sun began to set, Logan felt a sense of relief as they called it a day. He followed Cohen up a grand staircase to a luxurious guest room, complete with a king-sized bed adorned with white silk sheets and a black silk blanket. "I trust you'll be comfortable here," Cohen said, his voice smooth. "We'll start fresh in the morning." Logan nodded, grateful to be alone. He changed into his white pajamas and slid into the bed, the pillows enveloping him in comfort.

The next morning, the sun had barely crept over the horizon, casting a soft glow into the luxurious bedroom. Logan, still groggy from his restful sleep, stirred in the plush bed, his senses slowly awakening.

But as he moved, he felt something unusual—a sensation that made him snap into full alertness. The black blanket, once a comforting weight on his body, now seemed alive. It slithered, almost like a serpent, across his limbs, its dark fabric contrasting sharply with the white sheets and pillows. Logan's eyes widened as he watched, mesmerized and terrified, as the blanket enveloped him. It flowed over his body, transforming every piece of fabric it touched into the same lustrous black silk. The once-white pajamas he wore now matched the blanket's hue, hugging his frame as if tailored just for him. Panic seized him, and he struggled to free himself, his fingers frantically tugging at the silk pajama top. It clung stubbornly, as if reluctant to let him go, but with a final, desperate yank, he managed to tear it off, gasping for breath. He sank back into the pillows, his chest heaving, and stared down at his body. His breath caught in his throat as he noticed the changes. His stomach, once soft and unremarkable, now boasted a defined six-pack, and his entire physique had transformed into that of a Greek god.

Logan's fingers traced the contours of his new body, a mix of astonishment and pleasure washing over him. As he lay there, reveling in this unexpected metamorphosis, he felt a stirring below. His cock twitched, awakening to the soft caress of the silk. The sensation was electric, and he watched, his smirk growing wider, as his cock rose to attention, straining against the confines of his black silk pajama pants. It was as if his body had been reborn, and with it, a newfound confidence. *What a great cock... it's magnificent!* The thought echoed in his mind, and he couldn't help but agree. Such arrogance was unfamiliar to him, but it felt right, as if he had always been meant to be this way. He imagined the reaction of his peers, the envy in their eyes as they beheld his new physique and the bulge in his pants. *They'll all want me,* he thought, *chicks and guys alike.*

The bedroom door creaked open, interrupting Logan's musings. Cohen, his project partner and host, stood in the doorway, clad only in tight black silk shorts, his expression a mix of satisfaction and hunger. He took in the sight of Logan, sprawled on the bed, his legs spread, and the bulge in his pants evident. Cohen's lips curved into a smile, his plan unfolding perfectly. He approached the bed, his bare feet silent on the plush carpet. Without a word, he perched on the edge of the mattress, his hand reaching out to gently stroke Logan's hardening cock. The touch was electric, and Logan, who would have normally recoiled from such an advance, found himself relaxing into the sensation. Cohen's fingers, skilled and confident, began to work their magic, stroking and teasing, and Logan's body responded, his cock throbbing with need. The sensation of the silk against his hardening cock only added to the pleasure, and he watched with a newfound arrogance as Cohen stroked him with skilled hands. "Mmm..." Logan moaned softly, his eyes half-lidded as pleasure coursed through him.

Cohen's touch was electric, and Logan's thoughts were no longer his own. The values and beliefs he once held dear began to fade and the Copman family's desires and ambitions seeped into his mind, erasing his past life and replacing it with a new identity. Cohen's fingers worked their mastery, and Logan's body arched, his back pressing into the silk sheets. The room echoed with the sound of skin on silk, the rustle a sensual accompaniment to the dark ritual. "Yes... Oh, yes!" Logan's voice, now deeper and laced with confidence, filled the room. His breath came in short gasps, and his heart raced as the pleasure built. Cohen's plan was working; Logan's essence was being reshaped, his DNA rewritten with the Copman lineage. As Logan's climax neared, Cohen whispered, his breath hot against Logan's ear, "Soon, you will be reborn - as Logan Copman." "Ahh...!" Logan's cry of release was loud, his body convulsing as he shot his load into the silk. The sensation was intense, and for a moment, he felt a strange detachment, as if he were witnessing someone else's pleasure. The old Logan, his DNA, and his very soul were now just a cum spot  on the lustrious silk pajama pants and replaced by the Copman's linage. His once modest nature and humble background, was fading away. "Oh, fuck..." Logan panted, his eyes still closed, savoring the aftermath of his orgasm. Cohen's satisfied grin widened as he watched Logan's transformation. "Perfect," he murmured. "Just as planned." The black silk, as if sensing its master's desires, flowed around Logan's body, shaping itself into a stylish black suit, complete with a crisp white shirt and a black silk tie.

"Welcome, Logan Copman," Cohen said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Are you ready to embrace your destiny as the heir?" Logan turned, his eyes narrowing slightly at the mention of his name. "I've always been Logan Copman. Heir to the Copman empire. Why do you speak as if I'm new to this role?" His voice carried an air of arrogance, a trait he had never possessed before. Cohen's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light. Logan sat up, the black silk suit now fully formed, hugging his new muscular frame. The transformation was complete, and the old Logan was a distant memory, replaced by the arrogance and entitlement of the Copman family. "Of course, my dear boy," Cohen replied, his tone soothing. "You've always been destined for greatness. And now, it's time to claim your birthright." Logan stood, his movements graceful and confident. He adjusted himself in the tight silk pants, his cock now a source of pride and power. "I'm ready," he declared, his voice carrying an air of command. "Let's go, Cohen. I have a family business to attend to."

As Logan strode out of the room, his footsteps echoing on the marble floor, Colin Copman entered, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Cohen approached him, bowing slightly. "Master Copman," he said, his voice filled with respect. "I have succeeded in my task. The final ingredient, a living boy, has been offered, and your heir is born." Colin's eyes narrowed, a mix of curiosity and satisfaction playing across his face. "You sacrificed the son of Jack, our tenant?" Cohen's grin widened, revealing a hint of sharp fangs. "Yes, and what a perfect choice he was.“ Colin's eyes widened slightly at the revelation. "And the boy, Logan, he is...?" "No more," Cohen replied, a sinister edge to his voice. " His essence has been completely overwritten. He is Logan Copman, through and through. The old Logan is nothing but a distant memory, a speck of dust in the wind.” Colin's laughter filled the corridor, a chilling sound that spoke of his malicious delight. "Excellent! I must admit, I'm pleased it was him. His father has been a thorn in our side for too long. You've done well, demon. The spell is complete, and our legacy is secured!" With a final bow, Cohen approached the black blanket, the portal to the demonic realms. "My task is done. I will return to the shadows, leaving the Copmans with their new heir." With that, Cohen moved swiftly, jumping onto the black blanket, which had been the catalyst for this dark magic. The fabric rippled, and in a flash of darkness, Cohen was gone and the blanket lay still, its purpose fulfilled. Colin stood alone, his eyes fixed on the spot where Cohen had been moments ago.

He felt a surge of power and pride. "Logan Copman," he whispered, savoring the name. "My son, my heir." Unbeknownst to the Copmans, their fate was now intertwined with the demonic forces they had summoned. Cohen's plan had come to fruition, and the new Logan was ready to take his place in the family, unaware of the dark origins of his existence.

[moonwoodhollow]

Creepy Tales with Lucy Kirk (S03 EP 06) - "What happened in the Hexenhaus?"

transcript under the cut

[Camera man]: We're rolling in 5, Lucy! Get ready!

[Lucy]: Great. Ugh, this rain's awful... my hair's already ruined!

Lucy: Welcome to Creepy Tales! I'm Lucy Kirk your host of Sim Channel's spookiest true crime show. Today's creepy tale led me to Brindleton Bay and its very own haunted house! Don't let its beautiful exterior fool you, this house has a dark dark history and I'm here to uncover it! But first, let's listen to what some of Brindleton's residents have to say about the Hexenhaus, as it's called by the locals.

man: It's a tale as old as time, I guess. You have your perfect family, gorgeous couple, great kids and nothing, literally nothing indicates something's wrong. But looking back now, with them being gone... I don't know, I'm pretty sure we missed some signs that things weren't as rosy as they appeared to be. Something was off, I'm sure.

woman 1: I don't really want to talk about this. It's been, what 8 years now? What's past is past and should stay in the past.

woman 2: I knew them obviously. In this kind of town, you know everyone. They were kind people, always very helpful. My son and their daughter were friends. He was devastated when... well you know what happened. Everyone was.

girl: That house is definitely haunted. You'd have to be crazy to live there, but what do I know, some weirdo just bought it at an auction. Good luck stayin' alive, dude.

Lucy: There you have it, guys! We're off to a mysterious start for this episode and I cannot wait to find out what exactly happened here in the Hexenhaus!"

[saintslewis]

“𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑”

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 — 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

˖ ࣪⭑ - pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc

˖ ࣪⭑ - summary: first date with the world’s newest married couple!

˖ ࣪⭑ - warnings: cursing, brand names, outfits descriptions, smau, typos.

˖ ࣪⭑ - saint’s team radio: aaannnnndddd we’re back! have quite a few wips so that took my time mainly lol. i truly love these two and i hope you guys do too 🥹. like i said, maybe i should make a schedule for this. hope you enjoy and let me know if you wanna be tagged 🤭.

pls do like, reblog and comment!

Tell me your thoughts guys!!!

masterlist

previous chapter

-

"what the fuck did we just do?" Nadia blurted out as she held the small but extremely expensive red bag in her shaking hand, her other hand over her mouth as she stared at it.

The man in question closed the car door to the backseats, making sure the two other shopping bags were secure. Climbing into the car, he looked at the frightened woman and desperately tried to hide his smile as she took small breaths. Eventually calming down with him typing on his phone, she reached into the deep red bag that read 'Cartier' and carefully took out the delicately wrapped boxes that held their respective wedding rings.

Walking into the luxurious store was a mission in itself as the newly married 'couple' had to pretend for the first time. With Lewis assuring her that it was usually empty during that specific time of day, Nadia tried to keep her cool together by entering the store she would only window shop from. Immediately when entering the private entrance, she could already feel the difference in the atmosphere, the quiet music through the hallways became a bit too overwhelming for her. What Nadia couldn't do was to understand what life she would be living from here on out, each step dragging the next as she watched the Harrods' security guards stand firm in their positions, guarding the gold elevator. Keeping within close proximity of each other, their arms would brush against each others from time to time and everytime she would glance at Lewis, he looked so unphased it was scary. It looked like he's been doing this for years.

As the two turned the corner and the jewellery store came into view, Nadia looked around at the other stores forming what seemed like a cul de sac within the store. The red and gold exterior of Cartier caught her eye and she and the man she was with gathered the workers and the customers attention. Giving a subtle nod and smile to both security guards standing on guard at the entrance, they opened the large Oakwood doors and a strong scent captivated her.

"Could I hold your hand?" Lewis asked quietly, holding his hand out for the younger woman to surprisingly grab onto in lightning speed. "My hands are really sweaty right now, I'm sorry." Nadia stressed. With their fingers intertwined and Lewis' cold rings managing to cool down her hand, he led into the shop where a sales associate was waiting patiently, gasping when she saw Lewis without his sunglasses and a woman standing next to him. Displaying a selling smile, the sales associate fixed her blazer and signaled to the security guards to close the doors.

"Mr Hamilton, what a pleasure to have you join us this afternoon. Greetings to the both of you. My name is Kim and I will be helping you today." Kim had said with a professional voice, leading them to her work desk near a counter showcasing diamonds and emeralds. "What brings you in today?" She asked, sitting on her desk chair and clearly directing the question towards Lewis. Before saying his words, Lewis knew that nothing he could say would be out these doors as the employees sign NDAs almost every week.

"Well, my wife couldn't find her ring at all for the past two weeks and rather decided to get a new one." He explained as he pulled out the chair for Nadia to sit before he did. The pure shock on the sales associate's face was borderline comedic, her jaw nearly dropping to the floor. "O-oh! Well, we definitely have a lovely range of wedding rings that would be suitable for the both of you, seeing as you guys are such a beautiful couple." Kim said with a shaky laugh, reaching to give them a look book for their purchase.

"I'll give you guys a couple of minutes to decide." And with that, the ever so young sales associate stood up from her assigned desk and left Nadia and Lewis to make their decision. Releasing a sigh she had kept in her from the moment they walked through the door, she looked at Lewis who just picked up the catalog and flipped through the pages.

"How are you so calm right now? My hands can't stop sweating, what the fuck." Nadia whisper-yelled, trying not to wipe her hands on anything near her whilst breathing through her nose. "I'm just used to this but it would've been nice if she wasn't so nervous." He shrugged his shoulders, leaning comfortably into the seat and his eyes scanning into the catalog. "Do you want to leave? Because we can. I really don't want you to be uncomfortable." Lewis suggested, placing his hand on her shoulder, somehow making her face him. Studying his face, she looked into his eyes as the sincerity poured out. He was worried, the fear literally showing through her but as she shifted her eyes to Kim who looked like she was coming over, a switch flipped in her.

Quickly grabbing the open catalog from the table, Nadia scanned the pages and landed on a ring that screamed at her with its luxury and simplicity. "Oh this is just stunning." She grinned, pointing at the picture of the ring. To say Lewis was surprised was an understatement but he could see what she was doing and it was smart. "It really is. Is this the one you want?" He asked, leaning close to her and noticed she didn't even move. Oh, she was really selling this.

"It's perfect." Nadia smiled so much so that her eyes closed.

-

"Wait so what do I say? Like happy 2 years or something?" Nadia asked, turning her body in the car seat to face Lewis. The two hadn't even put the rings on yet but they already were planning what to post on instagram.

"No clue. Did you choose what to post? Tia is bugging me about that." He said, sighing out for the umpteenth time that afternoon. Snapping her eyes at the man, he caught the look she sent him then clarified that she was his main pr manager. "I think I'll go with the flow when I choose the pictures." Awkwardly enough, Lewis and Nadia exchanged phone numbers and had to share a few photos with each other to have something to post for the world.

"You know, your dad mentioned that we should tell our friends before we tell the world." She said, slumping her head back into the surprisingly soft headrest. "Yeah. Uh my friends are in town so we could probably do something with them and announce it there." Lewis said, scratching at his hair out of nerves. He never was someone who got nervous often but this entire situation kept playing on his mind.

"Alright then. Home time?" He suggested, watching her nod before he even finished his sentence. He soon drove off with her address already on the car display, watching her as she admired the streets of London. They both knew this was going to be a long journey but it was worth helping each other out as their friendship began to bloom.

"Lewis?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you actually do for work? I feel like we've been talking about my job so much that I haven't taken the chance to know what you do. Y'know, besides shopping at Cartier so much that the workers recognise you." She asked, facing the car window and looking out as they passed through Central London. "Well um, I work in Formula One and it's been my..thing for the past 30 years." He revealed as he stopped at the red light, people from outside most definitely couldn't see inside the car even they tried.

"30? Oh my god, they had you working at 2?!" For this, Nadia sat up and looked at Lewis in astonishment, making him burst out laughing. "How old do you think I am?" He could barely get the question before giggling once again. "I thought you were at least 32. How are you older than 32?" Fully facing him now, Nadia couldn't believe what she was hearing because in her eyes, his features were very youthful (similar to hers but she didn't want to brag). "I'm 38, January 7th." Lewis said, giving her a closed smile.

Racking everything that she just learned about him, it all came back to her. Most Fridays when her students (whoever had History that time) would request to watch anything F1 related whilst she focused on something else or when the name 'Hamilton' was constantly thrown around between the last few minutes of classes almost every week. Even the 4 years she's been teaching at the same school, they would make a big deal every July before schools closed for the race in Silverstone and constantly cheer on the same British driver, Hamilton. Her new last name.

"Are you good? you went quiet on me for a second." Lewis glanced at Nadia as she had a slight pout on her face as she looked straight ahead, clearly her concentration face. "Just realised that most of my students adore you, borderline obsessed with you." She muttered but he heard her loud and clear. "And I don't know shit about you except that you drive super fast cars on weekends." She began clicking her nails as a way to distract her from her busy mind. "Okay, how about we go on a fake date after we tell the world about our marriage to get to know one another so we can understand our new lives now. Is that okay with you?" Lewis suggested and truly, Nadia's heart swelled a little.

"Can I dress up or will I be judged for that?"

"Anything you want."

The next day.

"Wait. I'm confused. Your PR lady wants to have a meeting with me when? After we launch? Because I'm gonna be really busy with my students tomorrow." Nadia was extremely stressed and rightfully so. After everything happened yesterday, it was time to worry about the logistics of this 'relationship.'

"Tia said she's around London now so maybe you two could meet at a café somewhere in case you're not uncomfortable with her being at your place but she preferred to do it before everything gets crazy." Lewis spoke over the phone. Nadia kept quiet for a few moments as she skimmed over a few facts about Lewis on her laptop. "Wait, you were knighted?" She asked, seeing the photo of Lewis with the badge she recognise as the one that knights usually get. "Are you looking me up right now?" The laugh threatened to come out as he slowed down on the treadmill. "What? I wouldn't." Nadia closed the laptop with speed as if he could see what she was doing.

"Uh huh... anyways, should I forward her number to you or should I make the call?" Lewis pretended as if the biggest smile didn't paint his face at that very moment. "Just send it to me and I'll probs invite her over. We'll talk later then." The two said their goodbyes and went back to whatever it was they were doing.

Placing her phone down next to her on the couch, she sat in silence as it all dawned on her. The man she is legally married to is one of the world's most famous athletes with millions and millions of supporters. Spending almost the whole morning researching anything she needed to know, her chest wanted to close in as she looked at everything from stats from his long ass F1 career to his businesses and social life and they didn't call him the busiest driver for nothing. Lewis never seemed like the type of person to relax and chill from the number of things he does in a day. From Fashion weeks to visiting labs for one of his many projects, it was going to be tough to adjust to his lifestyle whilst still being a full time high school teacher but she was willing to do so, to help a friend.

-

"Again, I'm so sorry for this sudden ambush on you. You're so lovely." Tia apologised once again, making Nadia hold her hand as she shook her head.

The dandelions that Tia brought over were sitting pretty in an empty vase on the living room table, making the room smell so fresh. Tia was definitely a few years younger than Nadia, shown by her enthusiastic energy as soon as she stepped into the apartment.

"So to just get to the gist of it all, you're entering the world of fame without knowing what exactly goes into it. You're gonna need a team, security intel, a refurbished social media look, probably a new bank account and a new address." Tia said, pulling out a notebook from her tote bag. "For now, I'll be your pr manager along with Lewis'. Please just know that this fake marriage idea was a collective decision by the rest of our team because of the scandals that have just been coming our way. I hope I'm not scaring you?"

"Girl, I'm scared as shit right now. What do you mean new address?" Nadia vocalised as her right leg bounced repeatedly. "So in order to make this believable, you'll have to move in with him and we've proposed that you say that you've been secretly married for 2 years. I know that you're going to meet with his friends soon and y'know that date? It has to be tonight because I know you have work tomorrow." Tia flipped her silk press over her shoulder as she placed her hands on the now closed notebook.

Nadia's jaw wanted to drop to the floor but she tried to seem calm as her eyes darted anywhere from Tia.

"So you and I can get ready for this date like we can go shopping, hair and nails then in the evening, he picks you up. How does that sound?" Tia smiled, already packing up her bag.

"Uh-"

"Perfect! Let's go."

-

"Breathe in and out, Nads. In and out." She quietly told herself as she paced up and down her room, the uncomfortable ysl heels clacked against the floor. Constantly checking if the little black dress wasn’t showing anything that didn’t need to shown.

The Cartier box sat perfectly on her dresser, staring at her and waiting to be opened. Eventually gaining the courage to open it, she gently picked up the ring and slid it onto her ring finger, feeling its weight slightly. Lifting her hand to the lamp, she watched as the diamond glistened, matching the charms and rhinestones on her fresh nails.

Even music couldn’t help her calm down as she anxiously waited for Lewis to say that he’s outside, palms becoming clammy at the thought of going on a ‘date’ with someone as famous as Lewis. The research she did on him was one similar to someone entering a fandom as she tried to remember basic information about her husband.

Walking over to her full length mirror, she scanned over her outfit once more and did quick breathing exercises to calm her down. She did a quick smile and walked out of her room, not forgetting her trusty fluffy slides in case she got tired of her heels.

Whilst taking a few pictures, the knock on her door startled her. Rushing to open up, she carried her new purse and touched her hair a little bit as she reached for the door handle.

The smell of roses mixed with the scent of Lewis’ cologne greeted first as the big bouquet of flowers blocked his face.

“Oh wow…” Nadia muttered as she reached to take the sunset orange roses out of his tattooed arms. Securely holding the bouquet, she looked up to observe the man and his look nearly took her breath away. The soft pastel colours of his sweater vest were matching quite well with the lilac slacks he had on, going casual with the air force ones and not to mention the jewellery that somehow emphasised the cozy yet fashionable style he was going for. It genuinely looked like he was going on a date and so did Nadia. His braids were tied back into a low ponytail and his diamond earrings sparkled quite nicely, the wedding ring he bought himself making an appearance as he lifted his hand to scratch his neck a little.

“Well good evening, Mrs.” Lewis greeted with the slyest smile on his face once he realised that Nadia was indeed checking him out. “Don’t give me that smile, Mr.” She rolled her eyes before turning around and placing the flowers in the kitchen. Seeing as she had everything she needed on her, she walked right back to the front door where he was patiently waiting for her. “Let me hold these for you.” He offered, opening his large hands to take her purse and slippers.

“You sure?”

“We’ve got quite a few flights of stairs to get through. Also, where are your neighbours? It seems like such a quiet building.” Lewis asked, curious as he looked at the closed doors they passed in the hallways towards the stairs.

“It’s mainly small families or students who just always mind their business and close themselves in by this time. It only really get noisy during sports weekends and spontaneous fights.” Nadia said, telling him a bit more about her odd neighbours as they eventually reached the same G wagon she saw yesterday.

He could listen to her talk about literally anything for hours, he told himself as he opened the car door for her, placing her stuff next to her. “Just so you know, there’s going to be some media where we’re headed, thanks to Tia so we just walk quickly whilst waving a little then we enter. Is that okay?” He asked, leaning against the open car door and his right arm caged her in a little. As much as she was distracted by how he was looking at her whilst standing like that, she nodded, somehow losing the voice that was there literally there a few minutes before.

-

“I have to compete with Nicki Minaj?!” She whisper-yelled as she leaned closer to him in the private booth that faced the rest of the restaurant. Already, the two had caused quite a stir as soon as they exited the car with the paparazzi rapidly throwing questions at each of them, barely giving them a chance to smile and wave as they planned. The security (both Lewis’ and the restaurants) helped them in and to the customers surprise, they entered in with confidence. Them holding hands really sold for everyone, the two waving to fans using their left hands before being escorted to the private booth.

“Well no you don’t have to anymore. It was just a…thing a few years ago.” Lewis said, taking a sip of his drink before leaning back against his chair. “But still! Like your fans literally know you with well known women so what are they even going to do with me?” Rightfully so, Nadia was stressed. This was a big commitment and already she was regretting it.

“I have a feeling that they will love you. As long as you aren’t a complete weirdo then they’ll most likely accept you. Well that’s what someone on Twitter said after hearing about a supposed fling I had with someone.” He assured. He seemed so calm about this and it freaked her out.

“Supposed?”

“Yup. Plus I’m now married to you so everything will swept up under a rug, y’know? Remove any bullshit rumours going on.” He said, sipping his drink once again.

“Again, how are you so calm about this, bruv? Feel like i’m sweating bullets here.” She breathed out, slightly fanning herself even though there was air conditioning in their booth.

“Is that who I am now? Bruv?” He asked, giggling as he looked at her amusingly.

“That is definitely your contact name. Oh! You have to meet my kids, that’s where I get it from.” Nadia spoke, taking a fry from her plate, the food the waiter brought over a while ago.

“Year 8?”

“Nope. Only Year 11 and 12. It was part of the ‘promotion’ but I only studied further to teach Year 8 so right now I’m winging it with my kids and it seems to be going pretty good. They’re excelling.” Nadia chatted, proudly talking about her students.

“You were meant to be a teacher, I swear. The glint in your eyes was so adorable when you spoke about them.” Lewis smiled, also eating his meal.

“Okay, don’t make me blush old man.” She scoffed with a little chuckle making Lewis laugh fully.

“Anyways, where am I gonna live? Tia was very adamant about me moving out to make it look super real.” Nadia changed the subject so quickly, as if it was lightning.

“My main residence is in Monaco but because of what I do, I tend to travel for two months at a time so I’ve got a few houses in another countries. So you can choose where you want to live really. Personally though, I can tell you love your job so this will be a bit tough for you but I get where she’s coming from.” Lewis informed, eating his pesto as if he didn’t just shake up her life a little.

“Oh. I’m gonna have to speak to my higher ups about this. Obvie, I won’t tell them the whole thing but can you give me a week to figure it out? Because it’s also salary that’s no longer gonna be there once I start travelling with you.” Nadia brought up, pinching her leg as thoughts raced through her mind.

“Sure, take as much time as you need because I get that this is a lot. I have a house near Wembley, that’s where I’ve been staying since I arrived so that’s my proposal to you.” He informed, watching her slowly eat her food.

“Well, there wasn’t a proposal to begin with, pookie bear.” Nadia joked, biting down on the fork as she giggled.

“That nickname, Nads.” Lewis giggled at her joke, knowing that she was going to be a joy to be around.

-

nadiahamilton

liked by randomstudent, tia.henderson and 538 others

nadiahamilton 2 years down, a lifetime to go 🤍

tagged: lewishamilton

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randomstudent MISS???? HELLOO???

user oh history is gonna be FUN tmr

lewishamilton my love 💗

nadiahamilton mwah!! 😚

user ma’am you’re joking????? WHAT

nella_rose yo, i leave for a bit and you’re married??? congrats babe omg 😭

user yo miss, what is a 8x world champion doing in your post?

nadiahamilton being my husband :)

randomuser whatever you manifested, GIVE IT

fanpage HE’S MARRIED

15 minutes ago

lewishamilton

liked by charles_leclerc, badgalriri and 10,828,929 others

lewishamilton forever and then some with you 🤍

tagged: nadiahamilton

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user NO FUCKING WAY

user well that’s one way to hard launch!

charles_leclerc 😧

lewishamilton 🤣

fencer congratulations on two years brother! 🩷

lewishamilton thank you bro 🫂

nadiahamilton it’s bruv to you 🤨

lewishamilton happy 2 years with my bruv 🫡

nadiahamilton much better 😚

user SHE’S HOT AND FUNNY???? WE’RE SO DOOMED

user and she’s not famous like at all

gigihadid where’s this beautiful woman you’ve been hiding????

nadiahamilton hello Gigi 🤭

gigihadid oh we’re so grabbing lunch soon

user wait so no one knew of her?? not even the drivers ???😭

landonorris MOM?

nadiahamilton hi son?

danielricciardo you don’t just hard launch on us on a random Sunday 😭

lewishamilton oh well, meet my wife! :)

user he really said no more rumours lol

user OMG THATS MY TEACHER HELLO?!

user WHAT

user YEAH THATS MY HISTORY TEACHER

mercedesamgf1 Mrs Mercedes? 🥹

mercedesamgf1 boss man says hi and congratulations! ��

fanpage noooo you can’t be married ☹️

user girl get a GRIP

badgalriri oh she’s SEXY

lewishamilton ri, pls don’t steal my wife

nadiahamilton TOO LATE

user the next media day is going to have a BLAST when he shows up 😭

10 minutes ago

taglist: @non-stop-imagines @folkloresthings @tispys-blog @userlando @lorarri @thisismeracing @thatsdemko @myescapefromthislife @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @jamie2305 @like-fire-love-blog @sugardontbesweet @simpfortoomanymen @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @eugene-emt-roe @deepgothfiremuffin @18754389 @cherry2stems @anubisnoir @littlelizzies-world @httpsserene @apenasumlug4r @youre-sooooo-funny @eddiesbitch83 @arshiyuh @alika-4466 @peyiswriting

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dividers by: @cafekitsune

nadia’s fc: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!

all pic creds go to pinterest and insta!