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severepink · 11 months ago

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Observing Adam

Where I go way too deep into something that probably isn't that deep. It's long, it's long as hell.

Okay, so you'd think with how Adam talks he's just a typical misogynist, right?

This man worships pussy. So much so, he's named a whole ass angel, one of his best, Vagina. You'd say that he objectifies them and thinks of them as being lesser, but I don't think that's the whole story. In fact, I think he might be the original simp.

All of these exorcists so far have been women. All of them. He refers to them as ladies or bitches interchangeably, he sees them as being completely capable of absolutely decimating leagues of some of the most vile beings who have ever existed, and they have, to the point it was only after thousands of years that there's been a risk to this hierarchy.

He's a self-centered, egotistical, loud-mouthed, arrogant asshole, no doubt about it, but I'm beginning to suspect something now.

If Adam and Lilith were created from the same dust, if they were created as equals, I am more than willing to bet... Lilith is also a self-centered, egotistical, arrogant asshole. But, she's likely far more intelligent, composed, and duplicitous.

Lilith was allowed to refuse Adam and leave of her own free will and garnered her own independence. A new wife was created for Adam, she was replaced. My guess, is she thought Adam wouldn't be able to live without her, to come back and find herself replaced entirely, she was enraged.

I believe both Adam and Lilith were both incredibly dominant individuals who fought over ideas, thoughts, and ultimately in the bedroom as well, if we take into account the creationist stories.

I'm willing to bet she likely manipulated Lucifer into twisting humanity against its original concept. What if Lucifer's intention truly was to just spark something within Eve, like independence and thought and creation, but it was Lilith's poison within the fruit that tainted her, then subsequently Adam, with sin.

Lilith thrived in hell, while Lucifer's dreams of creation were dashed. She didn't suffer as he did, instead the power of her voice grew with hell. Her voice grew so powerful that heaven found it to be a threat, her actions instigated the beginning of exterminations.

Charlie said that when she was a little girl, she didn't know Lucifer at all. I don't think this was because of Lucifer, he's seen here, picking her up, inviting her to share in his thoughts and dreams, showing her something wonderful. Something she could see within herself.

Charlie says that it's this moment that sparked her will to fight for her dreams. Which is strange, because at the very beginning of the story, Charlie says it was her mother's dream that was passed down to her.

Lilith took Charlie away. In this scene, Lucifer wasn't done showing Charlie his thoughts and dreams, he's still yearning to show his daughter these things at this point.

Lucifer loves his daughter. He loves Charlie so, so, so much. So why wasn't he allowed to build a relationship with his daughter for the longest time? He was waiting for the opportunity to get to know her, but with how much he adores her why didn't he do it sooner? He didn't comment on 'It took you a while-' he just said he missed her smile. They don't want to be pulled apart, again.

Now, we know Vivziepop has said that Lucifer and Lilith love each other, but Lilith 'wears the pants' in the relationship. We see all of the pictures all over the walls of a supposedly happy family. I don't think the relationship was as loving as originally portrayed and Lilith is a woman who desires control above all else. She likely tried to mitigate what influence Lucifer had over their daughter when she thought his angelic thoughts and behaviors became more than what she approved of.

Lets take it back to Adam and Lute for a moment. Again, Adam is a loud mouthed idiot, he's a jerk. The moment he realizes there are demons in heaven, he's ready to go on the attack. It's only because of Lute that he didn't end up doing something absolutely idiotic.

I gotta say, Lute and Adam's relationship is an absolutely fascinating one. He's a disrespectful dick head in how he talks, but how he acts is a different story. He allows Lute to man-handle him. He does listen to her, even if he's a whiny bitch about it.

Look at him, this is the face of a man listening, a dumb one, but a dude listening all the same. He doesn't manhandle her back, he doesn't even pull away until she lets go of his collar. Of all the shit he complained about, between being grabbed and being told what to do, his biggest complaint is that she's telling him to shush.

We know that Adam is the one who suggested the exterminations to begin with, so Sera says, and this was because of the power that Lilith was amassing. To him, Lilith is a threat. Even when he was willing to move on, to go to another wife when Lilith didn't want him or want to submit to him (fair babe, he's a bit of an idiot), she came back with an angel and proceeded to manipulate his new wife Eve. This is the supposed progenitor of man-kind, the original dick (hilariously enough), the reason civilization even exists at all. He and Eve had to fight for their lives after being tempted with the fruit. They had immortality, they had no ideas of shame, they were supposedly 'innocent' creatures before Lilith and Lucifer came along. He and Eve had to fight tooth and nail to survive after being cast from Eden. I think it shows in how willing and ready he is to take lead and do what he believes needs to be done, now out of a need for entertainment rather than a need to defend or protect. But, he still stopped to listen to Lute's advice. In the mythological story of Adam and Eve, Adam is the one who has to tell Eve that god said don't eat the fruit. Eve never heard god speak to her, so she was vulnerable to the snake's manipulations. She will now die because she ate it, and because she did not want Adam to take another wife, convinced him to eat it unknowingly. Funnily enough, Adam tried to explain to god that 'she lied to me and gave me the fruit' and in this actual mythology, Adam was punished for listening to his wife. Even without mentioning Lilith in the original mythology, Eve didn't want Adam to take another wife, so when we consider it within the context of Hazbin Hotel, it may be likely that's how it went down. Eve knew of Lilith, knew that she could be replaced, and decided that she would take Adam with her.

I believe that Adam does and did rely on the women in his life to help him with direction. I think Adam knows he can be an idiot and is willing to listen, even if he doesn't agree with what he's hearing. He did listen to Charlie in the beginning, he just didn't believe in her, like everyone else and he, out of anyone there, probably had the most reason not to. Cain and Abel were his and Eve's sons, his own child became the first murderer. Out of jealousy, the same kind of jealousy that no doubt has caused Lilith to act how she did. Adam isn't going to have empathy for sinners. His family, his legacy, were filled with the original sinners. He probably had to kill his son Cain in hell during the first exterminations. What do you think he would have had to feel, if it came to be a fact that sinners could be redeemed? That maybe his son, could've been redeemed? Or any of his progeny for that matter? How did it feel when his sons, his progeny, weren't given the same mercy as the Hellborn that Lucifer managed to keep protected through some deal with the angels or god? Not to mention that Charlie could've been his daughter. Charlie is the product of the people who completely and totally destroyed the paradise he'd been born into. She's the daughter who is protected and immune from the slaughter while all of his sons and daughters are judged and killed. I believe, even though he was a dickish prankster to Charlie, he was surprisingly patient and even somewhat amicable, willing to even ask her how her weekend was like he was just trying to get to know her.

Adam could just see all of the angels under his employ as being disposable. He doesn't have to name them, or think about them in any individual fashion. But, he knows Vaggie, recognized her instantly. Thought she was badass. Lute's the one who saw her, tore her wings off, and walked away. I'm surprised they even let her live, because this just goes against everything they're doing. They're an army and they saw one of their own showing empathy to the enemy.

Look at this dumb ass. He's being a shit-head, a dick, a bastard. But, he admires Vaggie's ability to pull Charlie, congratulates her, this dude isn't even judging her for being a lesbian. I don't think it's because he objectifies women, this dude loves women, he just does. He respects fellow vagina lovers. I don't think he respects liars in the slightest though. He's being underhanded, he's trying to be manipulative (he's not very good at it). I think he's brutally open and honest about everything and that's probably one of the reasons he's such a bastard anyways, because sometimes you just need to shut-up and he's not good at that.

I don't think he respects Sera for that either, he's more than willing to let others know what the hell he's doing, but under Sera's lead, he can't be open about it. I don't think it's his jam to act this way, it's why he sucks so bad at it and I think that's why Lilith is so antithetical to him. I also think that's why he's possibly even being manipulated.

It's kind of crazy that Adam is the only one who tries to come up with what allows someone to get into heaven. So here's his list: 1. Act Selfless: Maybe at one point he was! He had to have been, to be one of the progenitors of mankind, he would have had to work, sacrifice, and give to his wife and children for them all to survive. Eve would have had to do the same, no doubt. He may not seem selfless, due to his raunchy behavior, but he's served heaven since he's been there. He's served humanity in some kind of facet. 2. Don't Steal: Considering the only other humans are his spawn, he likely had to try and get them to not steal from one another for them all to have an equal opportunity of survival. He and Eve likely both knew they would need to work together to survive.

3. Stick it to the man: This, however, is interesting. Who is 'The Man' he speaks of? God? The only other people over him or were equal to him were women. He speaks like a rocker, and I think in this case he's using the term 'The Man' in a gender neutral way. I think he allowed some amount of Authority to Lilith when they were supposed to be seen as equals, it comes so naturally to him as a character when it comes to the other women he's been interacting with. I think she is the 'man' that he's been sticking it to- Pun somewhat intended. ((This third one may also simply be a tongue in cheek reference to when Alex Brightman played Dewey in School of Rock on Broadway! Thank you to the user who brought this to my attention!))

Adam is a bit of a hypocrite, isn't he? He likes to fuck, he's made that abundantly clear. Full of lust you could say. It was his original purpose after all, and he is judging Angel Dust for something he probably would've done himself at one point or has considered doing (maybe not the having sex with men part). Angel Dust does all of these things, Adam doesn't even deny it. He even looks nervous. He's angry, but doesn't deny that Angel has done those things. He doesn't explain it away or try to lie or move the goal posts, he's just asking what is an actually very valid question.

Why isn't Angel Dust there if he can do things equal to what Adam himself hasn't done? Serenity continues that line of thought. It isn't until Charlie is realizing no one knows what it takes to get into heaven.

Adam is more than willing to let Lute take the lead here, he's willing to give her the stage to clap back, he's giving her back-up antics. By all means, they could be pushing and fighting one another, there could easily be body language expressing something other than their general comfort around one another. They aren't fighting for a spotlight like you'd expect Adam to try and do considering his egotistical attitude.

Adam fucking sucks at keeping his mouth shut and he sucks at lying. He nearly blew the secret out of the bag once, this time, Sera is the only one who tries to stop him and to be honest? Lute looks a bit too thrilled at it. He knows he fucked up, but he doesn't think it's a big deal that anyone would know. For fucks sake, they've already condemned souls, his progeny, to suffer. What's the big deal if he kills them?

I have to re-iterate what's happening here. Charlie is proud she caused this chaos, that she caused these angels to fight amongst themselves, even if in this case it's a good thing. But, this is like history repeating itself to Adam, the reflection of his ex-wife, entering his domain, causing strife among his people, being happy about it.

And the venom he expresses when it comes to the 'liar' portion, god Alex Brightman destroyed when he got to this portion specifically. There is some vehement disgust in his tone when he says liar.

Adam isn't a good person now. But, I think he used to be a good person. By all means, Adam himself could've been the first murderer when his wife made her mistake. He, at one point in time, had to have been good enough to foster civilization itself with Eve. Both good and bad. Adam's original purpose was to be fruitful and multiply. Ordained by god (or maybe just angels) himself, divine power directed and created him to fuck. He didn't chase his ex-wife down, he was given a new one, Lilith was allowed to leave. When he left things alone, when he tried to move on, his ex-wife and a scorned angel destroyed the paradise he was in with Eve. He had to struggle and toil, he had to feel shame in his own body. He had to find out his first born son was the first murderer. His second son killed. We don't know if this is going to be canon in the story, a lot has changed, and if Adam is the first soul who reached heaven, then what did happen to Abel? Was Abel considered a sinner? Or did Cain kill Abel after Adam had passed? Either way, he had to witness his children kill, he had to watch his descendants behave in a range from saints and monsters. He's seen genocides, he's seen famine, war. Adam is desensitized to the plights of his descendants. Maybe he even saw it as a duty to cleanse the universe of their existence at one point, because they were his responsibility.

At the end of this episode, he is properly scolded by Sera and does seem ashamed of himself. He isn't huffy, he is reminded that he should be ashamed of acting that way.

I love Lute's enthusiasm, she's absolutely brutal when talking about Vaggie and with how she handled Vaggie. I think it's funny that Lute is so brutal she's even made Adam uncomfortable. It's cute that he's made uncomfortable by the excitement and all he does is tell Lute, the premier hype woman over here, to chill. She's so proud of herself too, look at her.

He fully expects these exorcist bad bitches to go in there and fuck shit up. But, you know it's hilarious that he's throwing horns? This dude, this angel. First human soul in heaven, loving rock n' roll, the devil's music, and throwing motherfucking horns. It's poetic really. I think we can probably assume where things are going.

Now, this is the first point we've seen Adam being a real piece of shit to Lute. I don't think Adam likes it when people think he's too dumb to notice something, especially something so damn obvious. This is such a drastic moment of vitriolic, uncontrolled anger directed towards Lute. Adam knows he isn't the brightest tool in the shed. He likely knows he's obtuse and misses shit. It's why he sucks at lying, he knows he's not smart. That is why I think he's afforded women opportunities to direct him without fighting back against their advice and their choices. I'm sure Lilith made it obvious how dumb she thinks Adam is. I'm wondering if this might be where their ground breaking fight might've come from. Who's to say he didn't allow Lilith to take the lead, or listen to her like he's done with Lute here and now? Perhaps to an even greater point? He listened to Eve and ate from the fruit of knowledge and he was punished for it. Being seen as so dumb he can't formulate a simple fact is a sore spot for him.

Adam is incredibly powerful. It took a bit out of him to exercise that power, probably because he's out of practice just like Lucifer said. At one point, he probably wasn't so sloppy and weak willed. He's gotten lazy. Sloth like.

I think it got real personal here. How viscerally and personally he attacked Charlie. No one but Charlie truly thought sinners could be redeemed, or that they were even worth it. Not even one of the original sinners. Maybe he never considered the possibility, maybe what happened really did make him see the world as black and white to cope with that happened to him, his wife, his children. Charlie's desire to fight this idea would destroy the foundation for all of his coping through the years. He stopped seeing them as family, even though he's grandiose about his founding role in humanity. Does that itch the guilt that may lurk under the surface?

I don't think Adam thought much of Charlie at all. I don't think he had any intention of coming to kill her in the beginning, despite seeing her, despite who her parents were. But, I think with the constant push, with how eager she was to disrupt the pre-conceived idea of order, it reminded Adam and reflected her parents so much, he was eager to kill her for revenge against them. I think this electrical interference on the mask is a direct reflection of sin. Namely, wrath, in this moment.

Now, this. THIS. Is something that made me want to write this whole fucking essay. Is Lucifer implying that he not only gave Eve the Fruit from the tree of knowledge, but FUCKED HER TOO? Homies, I'm sorry but holy shit. That is some hydrating tea. I'd be pretty pissed too, fucked over twice by women who were supposed to be literal soul mates, who you were made for, who were made for you?

I knew he would have a goatee, I could almost hear it. I gotta say, I'm a sucker for how he looks. I think he's hot. He is a bastard, but so are a lot of the hot dudes in this show. It's just a theme.

This exact series of lines prompted so many of the thoughts that I had about Adam and why he thinks or acts the way he does. At one point, Adam did have to work himself to the bone and learn to survive from scratch alongside Eve. He isn't entirely without cause to not think that he deserves some respect or recognition from his descendants.

But, that doesn't give him the right to act like god himself. It's... well... Blasphemous. Isn't it? One of the worst sins is to think yourself to be worthy of worship, as if you're a god.

This is the moment that gave me empathy for them both. You could probably see the kind of loving person Adam could have been at one point with how he looks at Lute, even as he's laying there, dying. He's not crying like a bitch, just looking at Lute softly. Lute screaming for him, screaming his name. They cared for each other deeply.

And this... and this.... and this. WHAT DEAL DID YOU MAKE, LILITH? Did you make it with Sera? Did you make it with Adam? Did you make it with Lute? Did you really just want a little 'vacay' away from the hell you helped create? Left her husband, depressed and lonely. Left her daughter without any care or guidance. Maybe Alastor was sent in her place, perhaps? Seven years since he was seen after all, but why wouldn't he show up sooner if Lilith did care? Did she make a deal with Lute and Adam? Did she let Adam smash it so she could stay in heaven? Did Lute let her stay in exchange for getting Adam out of a position of power? Or was it maybe Sera who commissioned Lilith with a deal? Either way, I'm in full belief that it wasn't Adam's idea to move the extermination day up. I think he's a patsy, a scapegoat. I think Lute may have been manipulated, potentially, into manipulating Adam into this position. Was it even really Adam who came up with the idea to do the exterminations? Or was he the one who simply decided to fight originally because he was told heaven was at risk due to Lilith's rising power? The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions. I think it could be any number of these. Either way, Lute certainly does think she had authority over Lilith. Is it Lute just having hubris? Or is Lilith truly bound, just like Alastor, Husk, and Angel Dust?

Of course, now that we know a soul can be redeemed... and we certainly know that angels can fall. I don't think this will be the last we see of Adam.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #adam hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #eve hazbin hotel #lilith hazbin hotel #lilith morningstar #character study

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onismdaydream · 7 months ago

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♡ ⋆｡˚ keep your hands to yourself !

synopsis..!: your roommate found the bathroom door open! can you blame him for wanting to join? (3.1k)

warnings..!: MDNI. fem/afab reader. aged up character. pwp. perv!yuji. voyeurism. dubcon(at first). fingering. unprotected p in v. not proofread.

notes..!: first proper writing for perv yuji based off an ask i got that was too delicious to pass up. i had a lot of fun writing this even if i was a bit nervous bc i wanted to really lean into the pervy-ness. comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

yuji’s relaxing on the beaten up couch in the shared living area, scrolling past uninteresting videos on his phone while the tv screen plays an equally uninteresting show when the familiar jingling of various keychains clanking against each other filters to his ears. he's gotten better at recognizing the sounds you make — an unintentional side effect of sneaking around you.

well, sneaking sounds bad. it makes yuji feel dirty, like he's taking advantage of you without you knowing. he'd much rather say that he observes you. after all, there's no harm in looking, right? and there's certainly no harm done if yuji stays out of your sight during those moments.

the knob turns and the door opens and you let out a loud sigh as you kick your shoes off, dropping your bag on the closest surface available.

“long day?” yuji offers, straightening up a bit when you make your way over to him. his lips twitch upwards when you flop down next to him, your body sinking into the cushion. your hands run down your face, almost as if you're trying to wipe the exhaustion away. cute.

“you don't even know.” your eyes close and yuji takes the opportunity to let his gaze linger on your body, your relaxed posture practically begging him to look.

with your head thrown back and resting against the couch, your neck is exposed. smooth skin that he wishes he could nip and suck at, positive that you'd look even better covered in marks left by him. his fingers itch to reach out and touch you, to run them along your collarbone and down the valley of your perfect breasts. he'd love to feel the weight of them in his hands, to squeeze them and pinch your pretty nipples until you cry out for him. it's like you're playing with yuji, really, with how often you show off your chest. those cute swim tops you wear that barely stay in place or the shirts with the deep neckline, they drive him crazy. he's had to excuse himself to jerk off more times than he'd like to admit, images of your tits in his face as you bounce on his cock flooding his mind.

“we could, uh,” yuji starts, swallows when his mouth gets too dry, his tongue heavy where it sits. “we could watch a movie? get your mind off of it.”

it's a genuine offer; yuji does enjoy spending time with you and considers you a very good friend. it's just an added bonus that you always end up pressed up against him during those hang outs. your plush thigh looks so soft and warm and he wants to dig his fingers into the doughy skin, maybe even leave some bruises.

a soft exhale leaves your nose, and you shake your head before you open your eyes. “thanks but not tonight.”

yuji’s heart drops a bit, a disappointment he knows he never earns the right to weighing it down.

“i'm pretty tired so i’m gonna shower and then go to bed. rain check?” you stand, stretching your arms above your head and your shirt rides up with the movement. a small sliver of your stomach is exposed, drawing yuji’s eyes instantly. a moth to a flame.

“yeah, sure.” his words trail off, yuji only half paying attention to what you said. he can't help it — his mind goes blank when he gets a peek of your body. he watches you walk away, watches the sway of your hips in a trance until you step out of his line of vision.

there should be a feeling of guilt in the pit of yuji’s stomach, but there's not. there never is and he doubts there ever will be. instead, there's unbridled lust. he craves to touch your body, to feel your warm skin underneath his fingertips and to pull the sweetest sounds from your lips.

yuji’s hand falls to his growing bulge, the front of his shorts chubbing underneath the heat of his palm. a shaky breath slips past his lips as he squeezes his cock, wishing so desperately that it was your touch instead. he wouldn't even care how you touched him. as long as it was your fingers wrapped around his length, he would feel euphoric. hell, he'd even fuck into your fist if that's all you would give him.

he groans softly and shuts his eyes, imagining you leaning forward in that low cut shirt he loves so much, the one that shows off your gorgeous tits, and your hand just barely closing around his cock, a teasing touch that he doesn't deserve. shit, he wants it so bad — wants you so bad.

the sound of the shower sputtering to life snaps him out of his horny stupor, face flushing as he realizes that if you came back for any reason, you would've seen him. the tent of his shorts is obvious and there's no doubt that you wouldn't have known what he was doing. literally caught with his hands in his pants.

with a sigh, yuji decides to go to his room. if he's going to jack off to the thought of you, at least he should have the decency to not do it in a shared area.

the door to the bathroom isn't closed fully, the warm light spilling out from the cracks and shining on the opposite wall. it's like a siren’s call and yuji doesn't even realize his feet are moving again until he's standing in front of it, his hand hovering over the door. one small push and there'd be no privacy. one small push and he could see you fully. one small push.

there’s no hesitation.

yuji licks his lips, his mouth dry despite the humidity in the small room. water droplets cling to the glass of the mirror and shower, slowly running down the surface. the image is obscured but he can still easily make out the shapes. your curves look more pronounced now that you're bare and it's a sight that he never wants to forget.

he must be dreaming, seeing your hands move along your body through the textured and fogged glass. he feels his cock twitch, throbbing and aching in neglect, his erection forgotten as he watches you. you look so beautiful, so so pretty with the water cascading down your skin. one of those ancient marble statues carved in the visage of true beauty, now come to life in front of his very eyes. but here you were, hidden and protected by glass to keep admirers from touching what isn't theirs.

if only yuji could see you without the barrier, if only he could touch you like he wants to. he'd be so delicate with his handling, so thorough to ensure that you wouldn't crack or be damaged. all he wants is the chance to fully appreciate you in all your glory.

perhaps this is his only chance.

yuji’s movements are slow, careful, as he strips down to his underwear. his clothes fall to join your own on the tile. the muggy air sticks to his already hot skin, lingering in his lungs and making every breath heavier than the last. the few steps in the small bathroom seem to be multiplied tenfold, his heart hammering against his ribs and echoing in his ears.

it's not nerves rushing through his veins, though. it's excitement and desire; the mere idea of being able to touch your skin throws logic out of the window. even if you end up hating him, yuji isn't sure that he would regret this moment.

it's a blur of how it happens, his body acting on instinct as he covers your mouth and presses his broad chest against your back. you try to scream, jumping in his hold and fighting to get away.

(you feel so warm.)

yuji easily overpowers you, keeping you exactly where he wants you, a sturdy arm wrapped around your middle. he can feel you panicking, can feel the tenseness in your muscles and the rapid beating of your heart.

(so warm and soft and perfect.)

“‘ts okay,” his lips ghost along your shoulder, his fingers flexing as he tries not to move them yet. “please, let me touch you. i’ll make you feel so good.”

you're stiff against him, hands on his wrists but no longer actively clawing and pushing. he can feel the shaky breaths you’re taking, the exhales from your nose licking against his skin.

(you must want this, too, right?)

“please.” yuji repeats, his begging bordering on pathetic. “you're all i think about. need to touch you, please.”

and it's that honesty, that confession of obsession and desire, that seems to make you relax a bit. or, that’s what yuji wants to believe as you give a small nod, the movement slightly restricted from his hold on you.

yuji’s hand leaves your mouth slowly, almost afraid that you would break if he moved too suddenly. you're so fragile in his eyes, a beautiful doll meant to be observed and admired from afar. made of porcelain and only meant to be touched with gloves.

but the warmth of your skin underneath his fingers proves you are so much better than those damn figures.

“thank you.” his palms immediately cup your tits, gently squeezing the fat of them and groaning quietly at the feel. “oh god, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

it's nothing like he imagined. your tits are so soft in his calloused hands, warmth seeping through your skin and nearly burning him. but he can't pull away, not now.

“fuck,” yuji whispers next to your ear, his hands pulling you flush against him, his cock prodding at your lower back. hooking his chin over your shoulder, he watches in a daze as he gropes at your chest. “so perfect.”

you let him fondle your breasts, biting your lip when his fingers graze over your nipples, trying your best to keep your reactions neutral. he squeezes and kneads, pushes your tits together, makes them jiggle a bit, too — anything his mind can think of. it was only a matter of time, though, until he shifted his focus to your stiffening buds.

“look at ‘em.” he pinches your nipples, a sharp pleasure pain that zings down your spine and pulls a squeak from you. “you look so pretty.”

he's no expert, but yuji prides himself on being a quick learner. he repeats the action, adds a kiss to your shoulder for good measures, desperate to get the same reaction. he promised to make you feel good after all, right?

and if you end up enjoying this as much as he wants you to, well then, maybe you wouldn't hate him so much when it's all said and done. it's a win-win, really.

you whine softly at his touch and the sound goes straight to his aching dick.

“don't hold back,” he pleads, lips trailing up your shoulder to press against your neck. now that you're finally in his hold, he doesn't plan on wasting a single second of contact. “w’nna hear all your noises. please. always sound so sexy.”

“yuji,” a sweet moan spills from your pretty mouth and yuji swears that he could cum right then. his name on your lips sounds so sinful — no, heavenly. there's surely no better sound in the world and he wants to hear it over and over again.

“fuck, say it again.” his voice is dripping with desperation, hips jumping to rut against your back. you must be made for him, must be made to say his name because nothing will ever compare.

yuji’s cock leaks globs of precum as you do as he asks — begs for — his boxer briefs sticking so uncomfortably to his heated skin. they're soaked through, the white fabric becoming practically transparent and if you were turned the other way, you'd surely see how badly he wants you.

a hand runs down your front, gradually sliding until he reaches your pussy, cupping it and feeling the warmth bleed into his skin. his breathing is heavy and hot — suffocating, almost — with the water spraying around you. slowly, carefully, yuji presses his finger between your lips, feeling as though time pauses and the world shrinks down until it's just you and him. nothing else could possibly matter because he has your slick arousal gathering on his first knuckle.

it's a fucking wet dream come true.

you're tight around him, not so much that he can't move, but enough that his cock throbs when he imagines what it'll feel like when he sinks himself inside.

(would you let him?)

his finger starts a steady pace of thrusting in and out, gentle and shallow movements.

“so wet,” yuji mumbles, voice dropping as he staves off a groan. his other hand squeezes at your tit, a lot less gentle and a lot more hungry. an internal battle of wanting to drag this out for as long as possible and needing to push you to your limits immediately. he wants to savor this, take his time exploring every inch of your body that he can, but his dick hurts from how hard it is. he wants to devour you, too.

another finger prods at your dripping pussy, pushing past and making you moan so pretty.

your body is pressed so close to his own, pinned between his strong arms and hips, unable to control himself from humping onto you. your fingers wrap around his wrists, anchoring yourself as he rubs at your puffy clit. every sound you make spurs him to pull more from you.

“can i,” his tongue darts out to lick at his lips, his breathing labored from the desire flowing through him. “can i fuck you? please, just — hah — just a few thrusts, promise i’ll stop after, just need to feel you.”

you don't even finish nodding before yuji peels his wet underwear down enough for his cock to spring free, groaning softly. his tip is drooling when he pulls his foreskin back, shiny with precum and flushed red. he presses it to your swollen clit just to hear you whine softly, hoping you're just as desperate as he is.

“thank you, fuck, need this so bad.” yuji pushes you to the shower wall, the tile cold against your skin but the scorching heat of his body still makes you shiver.

his hand shakes as he guides himself in, sliding his cock into the person he's fantasized about far too often to be normal. finally feeling your body underneath his fingertips and hearing your delicious moans and tasting your skin on his tongue. he'd be convinced this wasn't real — just some cruel dream his horny mind conjured up — if it weren't for the squeeze of your cunt as he pushes another inch deeper.

“feel so good,” his hand on your hip tightens it's hold, fingertips sure to leave a beautiful bruise. every thrust forward sinks more of his cock inside you, sheathing himself in your perfect pussy. “so warm.”

it's hard, nearly impossible, to control his hips, to restrict himself from fucking you the way he's thought about. all he can think about is burying himself inside you until he can't go any deeper, grinding until he spills his load, staying in your cunt and starting all over again. your pussy would be so swollen, lips puffy and so much cum leaking out of you, and still, yuji wouldn't be satisfied.

and those noises that fall from your lips, your breathy moans and broken cries of his name, it just makes his cock throb.

he's going to cum. you're going to make him cum.

the embarrassment that would usually accompany finishing so soon is far outweighed by the tight heat hugging his cock. how could anyone expect to last when your pussy sucks him in so well?

“oh god, don't, don't make me stop, please.” the words tumble from his mouth, his hips slapping against your ass as he fucks you fast and hard. that familiar tightening in his stomach threatening to snap at any moment. he knows he said he would pull out but he doesn't want to. he really doesn't want to.

“d-don’t stop, yuji,” you whine out, your fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth tile, the now cool water making everything more slippery. yuji’s broad body is there to keep you upright, his hands roaming over every part of you he can reach. “don't fucking stop.”

he's not sure if he could stop anyway, you just feel so good around him. he's gotten a taste for you and now he's addicted, already looking for his next hit. would you hate him if he did this again? if he falls to his knees in front of you and begs to be between your legs once again?

but with the way you're moaning and tightening around him, yuji might just be lucky enough to have your cum on his tongue later.

his teeth graze against the sensitive spot on your neck, nipping and sucking at it until there's a dark color blooming. a mark.

a claim.

this is what he's dreamed of, what he's jerked off to countless times. and it's so much better than what yuji could ever imagine.

your pussy flutters around him and he quickly snakes his hand around your front, frantically rubbing at your clit and hoping he can ensure you orgasm first.

“cum for me, please,” he whispers, breath hot against the shell of your ear. “w’nna feel you cum on my cock.”

everything feels so intense, the echoing of the spraying water mixing with the lewd sounds of fucking and skin hitting skin and a symphony of moans. and suddenly, the dam breaks.

“yuji!” you cry out, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you clench, hard. it's heavenly, feeling you spasm around his cock and milking him for all he's worth. he's meant to be here, meant to be inside you.

it's inevitable that he cums, unable to hold off any longer. his hips stutter, grinding slowly against your ass as you both come down from the high.

the water is turning cold by now, a welcome relief from the heat radiating from your bodies. yuji’s chest heaves as he catches his breath, his fingers squeezing gently at your hips before he pulls out. he should feel guilty. he should feel really fucking guilty for everything he did.

but he doesn't.

seeing the marks that he left on your skin and the cum dripping from your pussy just makes him determined to leave more, to fuck you more.

“yuji,” you start, and, fuck, he still loves the way it sounds coming from your mouth. “what… what just happened?”

you turn your head and for the first time since you got off the couch, you can see him clearly. a hand at the back of his neck, a sweet chuckle, and that innocent, boyish smile gracing his features. his face is flushed a pretty pink that matches his hair, the same hair that's stuck to his forehead from the water and sweat from fucking you.

“sorry, couldn't help myself.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuji itadori #yuji itadori x you #yuji itadori x reader #perce.doc #.jjkai

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grandisknight · 3 months ago

Text

dots and dashes | sylus

summary: Sylus gives insight into one of the many languages he's well-versed in.

tags: nsfw (mdni), established relationship, afab!reader, banter, morse code, vibrator, sex toys, orgasm edging, f!orgasm, aftercare/morning after, gift giving, evol abilites (sylus' energy manipulation), a pinch of fluff

wc: 2.6k | ao3 | kinktober in deepspace masterlist

a/n: mildly inspired by one of his older text messages (affinity 37’s text message: deal)! also around his pre-debut, he had morse code in one of the teasers (official weibo post here) and i thought that was pretty neat so here we are ^_^)7

The leader of Onychinus kept a plethora of languages stored away under his sleeve. A man of multiple tongues and talents, you just wanted to know how to say one thing—anything, really.

Though, you didn’t think he’d take a silly comment in passing so seriously, and it landed you in his personal study the following evening. A rare day where your schedules aligned, Sylus took the opportunity to extend a warm welcome into the N109 Zone under the promise of a ‘lesson.’

Of all the languages, morse code was what he decided to reveal in his cards. A curious choice, to say the least, but it piqued your interest nevertheless. Cozied in one of the cushioned chairs, a beginner’s guide laid flat across the desk with your scribbled notes. Sylus’ chair was tucked to the side in observation, accompanying your lessons as a stand-in teacher of sorts.

Time passed in this way—he would offer a series of taps and drags with his fingers against the surface, and you would write them down. He was patient with you all throughout, solidifying the foundation for the alphabet before switching to small words and phrases.

A question that had been plaguing your mind since you arrived drifted into the air during a self-proclaimed break. “By the way, why do you know morse code?”

With a hand propping your chin, your gaze takes in his relaxed figure. Comfortably dressed in his light gray sweater, the detailed threads of silver patterns painted him in a softer aura that juxtaposed his usually formidable appearance. Rimless glass coveted the rubied gaze that would occasionally meet yours, though occupied in thought.

It was distracting, to say the least. A handsome distraction at its finest, though it doesn’t pull away from the message he quietly relayed to you.

A dot, two dashes. A series of dashes, another dot and some more followed. (.-- / --- / .-. / -.-)

Counting off the units that met the table in muted taps, you answer, “Work?”

“Good ear, sweetie.” Sylus nods, leaning back and adjusting the thin frames balancing atop his nose. “Sometimes, negotiations are better said without words.”

“That’s a thinly veiled way of saying threats, but sure,” you retort. He doesn’t deny your claims, rather letting out a small chuckle in acquiesce.

Sylus taps your forehead with his forefinger, amusement quirked in his brow. “You’ve seen the kind of talks and people I’ve dealt with. Who knows, you could use this in one of your little undercover missions too.”

His hands return to nestle in his lap, and it catches your eye then—a faint snap and swirl of black manifested into a box underneath his palm. Perfectly fitted and nearly hidden if it weren’t for the glimmering trim around the edges, and the fluttering crow feather swaying towards the floor.

“Curious, are we?” Sylus voices your thoughts, fingers drumming against the lid.

Two dashes and a dot, a couple more dots, another dash-dot and lasting dash. (--. / .. / ..-. / -)

“Gift,” you echo upon realization.

Your eyes wandered between his lap and the sparkling rubied gaze that honed his presence, reading between the lines. “Don’t tell me it’s another gun? Last time I checked, my Harrier 700 still works well.”

And the last thing you wanted to deal with was a run-in with customs, if that were the case—he’s already tried his luck before, and you weren’t counting on his luck index to grant a second chance.

“You’ve been taking good care of it, so there’s no need for a replacement,” Sylus says. He leans back, tapping a forefinger to his temple in thought. “I thought it would be nice to get you something for studying so diligently.”

It had your back straightening in attention—now you really had no idea what he could be hiding. Even so, a scowl sketched onto your face, wondering if you’ve walked into a trap. A dry chuckle parts his lips at your clear interest and adamant attempt to maintain a façade all the same.

“Sweetie, it’s all yours.”

“It’s not that simple though, is it?”

“Ah. You know me so well,” he muses. “As vigilant as ever.”

The box finds itself on the desk and his hands reach for your chair. They dance over the armrest before turning your full front towards him—where his cocked head and curled lips asked, “Let’s make a deal. How does that sound?”

“What’s the catch?” Your heart jumped into your throat, unsure of when the air became so… palpable. Damn him and his ridiculously handsome face, you couldn’t tell if it made this more bearable or stirred your senses further. “I might be willing to wager.”

“Relax, that’s one of the conditions.” His larger fingers swipe over one of yours, which had subconsciously curled into a fist. Gently, he coaxes your hand to open into his, soon neatly slotted and all encompassing with warmth. “You look nervous, and I haven’t done a thing.”

“I know.” Your shoulders relax when his thumb massages yours in a light stroke. “But you haven’t done anything yet,” you clarify.

“Which brings me to my second condition.” He brings it closer to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours when he presses a kiss to your knuckles. “A test, if you will. You pass if you manage to decode my sequence correctly.”

“My sequence,” you pause, catching the tail end of his proposal. “So there’s only one?”

“Why, do you want a whole pop quiz?” He snickers, a brow raised. “We’ll be stuck here all night if that’s the case.”

“Nevermind,” you shake your head, finding the prospect to be less than charming. One was more than enough to take on your plate.

You purse your lips then and poke in jest. “Are you doubting my academic prowess now?”

“I would’ve dismissed you entirely if I was,” Sylus points out, tugging your hand towards him.

It jerked you forward unexpectedly, though it seemed he was anticipating this—smooth swirls of red and black tangled around your body, gently placing you atop his expecting lap before softly dispersing. “There’s no doubt in my mind you’re as bright as they come,” he adds in honesty.

“What the—hey, now!” A flush ran across your cheeks at the newfound proximity.

Hips hovering above him, you nearly fell onto the fine meeting place between his thighs. You save yourself the embarrassment, reaching for the chair’s headrest to steady your shift. He allows you this much, your legs soon bracketing his own and enjoying the sight all the same.

You huffed, “Is this part necessary?”

“Par for the course, actually.” Sylus’ fingers ghost over your sides, before settling atop your thighs and his palms lying flat in a gentle caress. “You can always back out if you’re not game.”

An arrow to your pride dug into your heart at the mere offense. The competitive spirit that once laid dormant jerked into consciousness—absolutely not. “No, we’re on. Do your worst,” you raise in steadfast confidence. “I can take it.”

“Those are fighting words,” he says. The glint in his eyes was unmistakable, teetering on a fine line of fondness and scheme alike. “But I’ll hold you to it.”

—

So, maybe your confidence could only carry you so far.

Rather, it tumbled you into a predicament at the cost of your exposed cunt. His free hand lazily dimpled into the plush of your hip, simultaneously careful to keep you steady. No longer a comfortable chill, the study’s air swirled into a concoction of heat and burning salacity in every inhale.

“Sweetie,” Sylus purrs. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

It wasn’t for a lack of trying. The game of codes was the last thing on your mind when a fine man of caliber was perched beneath you, gracefully stringing you along and allowing you the same right.

Easily thrown out the window, especially so, when all inhibition was lost to his kneaded touches and peppered kisses. The smooth movements that treasured your skin with care, tugging your bottoms down just enough in the process and tenderly appreciating you throughout the heat of the moment. Even his hair stuck out in one direction to the next, unkempt from the field day your tugging fingers reshaped the silver stands into.

Be that as it may, you still groan, chest rising to catch your breath. Nails drag into planes of his firm shoulder blades, lightly leaving their mark. “It’s because you’re not playing fair, Sy.” If you had a nickel for every time you were close to crashing in his embrace from an impending climax, it would be two. While it’s not an impressive sum, both were earned in the past few minutes alone, under the direction of his cunning smile and newfound toy in hand.

To his kindness, he pulls the rounded head of the vibrator away from your clit—the once muffled hums rang out more clearly, whirring at the highest setting. It glistened to the naked eye, finely coated in a layer of your evident arousal.

“All is fair in love and war,” he says, unphased by the line of bait you failed to reel in. He leans forward to press a kiss into your temple, a sign of affection pairing with a gentle squeeze to your side. “Should I be nice and walk you through one last chance?”

Your hands trace the curves melting into his neck, grazing his nape in forewarning. “Thin ice, Onychinus head.”

“Alright,” he muses, though reveling at the added pressure that only spurs him further. “No need to get so formal with me.” The vibrator lowers in the same breath to meet your anticipating heat.

“Five letters. Ready?”

Your hips roll forward then, impatience losing its virtue if meant you could finally, finally seek some relief. “Was practically born ready, at this point.” And then, the first rhythm played out in three, gentle presses to where you needed it most.

Three dots. (...)

This was fine, you could handle this much.

A moment of pause soon sways into the vibrator sliding between skin, returning to the apex of your labia, and dipping once again.

A dash, added dot, and paired dashes thereafter. (-.--) “Still with me?” Sylus asks, taking in the sight of your eyes screwed in concentration. It was endearing, in some sense of the word, and his gaze lingered on your expression in intrigue.

Though grateful for the concern, you chide when your breath allows it. “Don’t stop, go all the way already.”

To stop halfway tested what little patience there was left in you. You raised your head to find his circles of crimson brimming with a fondness and undivided attention. All for you.

The grin he graces you with carries the same sentiments, newly tinted with mirth. “Whatever the boss wants.”

The humming returns without warning, and you jerk against the touch, gasping. A press and slide, following upwards once more in double succession.

Another dot, dash, and two dots in a row. (.-.. )

You were quickly beginning to piece together the puzzle he left you to solve, the audacity of it all.

Before you could admonish such revelations, you bite your tongue when he continues into the next piece. It was fleeting, but memorable—identical presses and a sinister slide, the buzzing toy greeting your entrance in slick abundance.

Two dots, and a dash. (..- )

“You’re not—” Your eyes grow wide at the newly placed prodding.

“Getting cold feet? A minute ago you wanted me to go all the way,” Sylus recalls with a click of his tongue. “It would be unlike you to stop right before the finish line, sweetie.”

You squirm against him, sensitive and incredibly aware of the coil threatening to unfurl. He takes notice, hand stilling in consideration.

“You can do it,” he croons, forehead to yours and capturing your fluttering gaze.

“Never said I couldn’t,” you say, a swallow sealing your determination.

Sylus smiles. “Last letter. Let's make it count.” The vibrator slips into your cunt, whirring against your walls in a sense of overwhelming ecstasy. He makes quick work of it all then, three generous thrusts of the wand disappearing almost entirely, save for his firm grip around the base.

Three final dots. (...)

It marks the end of his charades, and the beginning of your incandescent cries.

You came undone at last, release ebbing as a flurry of sounds shape themselves into your call. “Sylus, Sylus, Sylus.”

“That’s it, ride it out for me. You worked so hard to earn it, after all.” His nose brushes just beneath your jaw, a tender kiss in consolation to soothe your high.

He relaxes the toy out of your spent heat by the time your trembling thighs subsided, power shutting off and rolling onto the desk’s surface. A brief swirling of black and crimson manifests a small cloth into his hand, gently patting away the stickied outcome before it disperses in the same specks. His fingers rake along your sides, dragging the fabric of your bottoms into their proper place.

“Sylus.” You slump against his shoulder in recovery, bemoaning amidst the moment of calm clarity. “You are unbelievable. The damn answer was your name, of all things.” “And now you know how to call for me in code. Aren’t I generous?” The slight rumble of his chest supports the chuckle he lets out, deepened further when a curl of your fist smacks his shoulder in protest.

Endearment softens his tone as he draws circles into your back, taking the rolling punches. The other tangles his fingers against your temple, smoothing out the sides in thought. “I would say our lesson went well today.”

“One hell of a lesson,” you remark. Your breathing slows for a moment, listening to the drumming heart beneath your ear. His caresses were kind, lulling, attentive. A sense of peace, wholeheartedly yours and Sylus' alone.

Your gaze shifts towards the desk, when another piece of memory, well-decorated in its untouched trim, lies next to the toy. Forgotten, nearly—the gift. “By the way,” you murmur. “What’s in the box?” Whether it was out of laziness and unwilling to move from your warmth or pure convenience, Sylus waves his hand in summoning. Accepting the floating item midair, you were about to peel off the lid when he began to shift under you, interrupting your grand reveal.

“Hold on.”

With practiced ease, Sylus single-handedly cradles you to his chest and adeptly rises from the cushioned seat. No matter how many times he’s pulled it off in the past, it still leaves you breathless as if it were the first time.

You circle an arm around his neck, the other clutching the box with a huff, “I was about to do an unboxing, you know.”

“I know,” he confirms, and presses another kiss to your temple. “But you’re getting sleepy. Open it after a good night’s rest.”

A swirl of Evol pushes the doors open, his footsteps echoing down the hall and towards his sanctuary. Your mind willed to protest his attempt of procrastination, yet only a yawn pushed past your lips and proved his point.

Curling into his embrace, you faintly mumble into his neck, “I’m wide awake.”

“And the sun shines at midnight,” Sylus deadpans, unimpressed at your performance. “Don’t fight it. If you’re tired, then sleep. I’ll make sure the gift will be there when you wake up.” “You promise?”

“With my heart,” he says.

It was a simple response, yet the timbre of his words imbued security and affection all the same. As if he meant more than just ensuring your box was safe, swearing to something beyond your greater comprehension.

One blink lasted longer than the one prior, sweeping the thought and yourself away into soundless sleep. Another time, perhaps.

—

You would find out the following day that he stayed true to his word. In the quiet hums of the morning, a slumbering giant clung to your side, his breathing calm and unknowing you had finally peeled open the mysterious box.

A finely crafted jewel twinkled amidst padded velvet, a clasp secured on one end. Engravings inlaid in a series of familiar dots and dashes; you couldn't help but softly laugh, a finger tracing the pattern.

(-... . .-.. --- ...- . -..)

Beloved.

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lev1hei1chou · 8 months ago

Text

Sleeping Beauty

Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Words: 384 Synopsis: You fall asleep on Gojo Masterlist

You and Satoru Gojo had been dating for quite some time now, facing curses and missions together. Despite the chaos that often surrounded your lives, there were moments of peace that made everything worthwhile. Tonight was one of those rare calm evenings.

After a long day of exorcising curses, the two of you found yourselves back at the Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical High School dormitory. The soft glow of the moon illuminated the room as you and Gojo settled onto the couch, exhaustion finally catching up to you.

In the midst of casual conversation, fatigue took its toll, and your eyes began to droop. Sensing your weariness, Gojo chuckled softly, a grin never leaving his face.

"Well, well, looks like someone's ready for a good nap," he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You shot him a tired glare, your lips curving into a half-smile. "Shut up, Gojo. It's been a long day."

But Gojo wasn't one to pass up an opportunity to tease. As you rested against him, your head finding a comfortable spot on his shoulder, he couldn't help but comment, "You know, you're surprisingly light when you're asleep. Almost like a baby bird."

You groaned, both amused and annoyed. "Can't you be serious for once?"

Gojo's laughter rumbled through his chest as he wrapped his arm around you protectively. "Who said I can't be serious? I'm just making observations. Besides, it's kinda cute."

Rolling your eyes, you mumbled something unintelligible, drifting further into the realms of sleep. Gojo continued to hold you close, his teasing demeanor softened by a rare tenderness. The room fell silent, the only sound being the rhythmic breathing of two exhausted souls.

Time passed, and eventually, you stirred awake. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you found Gojo watching you with an affectionate glint in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," he said, his tone still laced with humor.

You yawned and stretched, realizing the position you were in. "Guess I dozed off, huh?"

"Just a little," Gojo replied, a smirk playing on his lips. "But you were adorable, so I'll let it slide this time."

You shot him a playful glare, swatting his arm. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

"But you love me for it," he retorted, pulling you into a tight hug.

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reiding-writing · 5 months ago

Note

i can totally see Spencer buying tickets for a movie and asking cold!reader to go with him cuz he knows she'd say yes

À BIENTOT— SPENCER REID!

spencer takes an opportunity to get closer to you based on nothing more than a passing comment.

spencer reid x cold!reader | fluff | 2.2k | cold!reader masterlist

a/n— this may be a tiny bit of self projection bc i’m trying to pick up my french again (ça ne marche pas)

main masterlist.

It’s a quiet day in the office. Quieter than usual for a Friday.

Quiet enough in fact, that you actually had time to take the whole hour of lunch that you were technically mandated to have every single day.

Most of it was still spent at your desk, although with a book in your hands instead of a case file. A distraction, maybe, but not a very optimistic one.

It wasn’t long before you had company. Spencer wasn’t really a ‘socialist’ in the physical sense of the word, and once he’d had enough of sitting in the kitchen eye with the group he too had decided to retreat back to the bullpen.

There’s a tinge of curiosity as he spotted you, sat cross-legged in your chair with both elbows leant on your desk and an open book in hand.

“Auschwitz and After?” He had to tilt his head to see the cover, but his ‘question’, his assessment, was confident.

You hum passively, like you’d already known he was coming over despite his quiet footsteps and your eyes trained on the pages. He’s not too surprised, it wasn’t very easy to catch you off guard.

“What drew you to it?” Spencer questioned, his gaze leaving your blank expression as it went back to observing the book in your hands, scanning the words on the pages.

“Practicing my french,”

Simple and to the point, and to your credit it made sense—when Spencer was knee-deep in a book he didn’t want to interrupt that focus either.

“You’ve read it before?” Socialist he may not be, but he wasn’t ready to leave you in your solitude yet.

“In English,” You turn the page with another small hum. “Doesn’t really count,”

Spencer hummed in agreement.

He could go on for hours about why reading a text in its intended language was superior to reading its translation. How much meaning and sub-context is lost in the transition between languages and completely distort the original meaning.

But you didn’t need to hear that. You already knew it.

So he didn’t say anything, instead choosing to focus his gaze on your face for a few more minutes, wondering if he’d be able to read the emotion on your face like he was so used to doing.

There was still nothing though. No facial twitch. No eyebrow raised. Nothing to indicate what you were thinking.

It was almost like your face was carved from marble.

If he thought about it too much he’d probably say your face deserved to be carved into marble, to keep a relic of you perfect and untouched forever.

But that was a bit too much for him to settle with.

Spencer shifted nervously on his feet, trying to think of something else to say to rid of the silence that was leaving him with his own overthinking.

“Hey— uh— There’s this um— If you’re wanting to brush up on your french—”

“Spit it out, Reid,” Your voice isn’t as harsh as it is blunt. You appreciated conciseness, although you’d never cut him out of a tangent unless it was something that was unproductive.

This one definitely was.

“Uh— Right, right,” he stumbled over his words for a moment before finally taking a deep, steadying breath. “There’s this movie coming out in a few weeks— well technically it came out in France back in May but—”

Spencer’s words came out so fast in his rush to just get to the point, that, for a moment, he was worried that you would only understand half of what he was saying.

“Reid,” You hold up your hand towards him as an indication for him to stop, before moving your hand in a single spiral as a non-verbal instruction for him to breathe.

His rambling stopped almost immediately, and if he had the conscience to be embarrassed, he most definitely would be at how readily he follows your order to take a second to calm down.

Especially considering you still hadn’t even turned your eyes up from your reading in the process.

Still, he follows you with no hesitation, and once you signal for him to continue, he starts back up again, slower this time.

“‘L’armée du crime’, uh, ‘The Army of Crime’, it’s only being shown in a few select theatres here in DC, but—”

The words came out slightly more measured this time, although that little hint of the usual rambling was still, very much present.

“It’s in the original French,” he continued after a beat, his previous hesitation slowly disappearing under the knowledge you weren’t put off by him just yet.

“With subtitles, of course— but still, the entire— dialogue is in— is in French.”

He exhales heavily.

“I was thinking of going to see it.”

He paused again, the hesitation creeping back into his voice.

“What’s it about?”

He swears the whole office can hear his sigh of relief.

“Um, it’s a war-movie,” he said after a few, silent moments, pointing lamely towards your book.

“Set during the Second World War, it talks a lot about the French Resistance, and how it’s not only the people who were fighting in the trenches who made it possible for the Allies to win…”

The start of his explanation is seemingly enough to grasp your full attention, echoed by the way you shut your book with no effort to remember your placement and leave it on your desk to look at him instead, eyebrow raised.

That little gesture, the almost unnoticeable quirk of your eyebrow, was all that Spencer needed to know that he didn’t need to summary the entire movie.

You were interested, but you didn’t want to know the entire plot ahead of the time.

He chuckled lightly at that, before biting his lower lip slightly. The next words that came out of him were almost just breaths.

“… Do you want to come with me?”

It’s enough for your eyebrow to raise more noticeably, enough that Spencer wouldn’t have to be standing less than five feet away to notice it.

“When?”

“Friday night—” It felt like the words were tumbling out of his mouth, like if he didn’t get them out fast enough he’d loose your attention and go back to square one.

But when he actually said the words out loud, he realised how much they sounded like he was asking you out on a date.

He was worried that you would reject him if you thought it was a date.

“…Unless you have other plans?”

There’s a small moment of silence, and Spencer feels like he might vomit from the anticipation.

“Friday’s fine,”

That’s it took for a small, satisfied smile to pull at Spencer’s lips. Those two words, combined with the small nod you throw in his direction, was all the reassurance that he needed to take you at your word.

“Great. That’s uh, that’s— that’s great,” he fumbled over his words, just barely reeling himself in from another ramble of him over-explaining his appreciation for your company.

“Friday’s fine for what?”

He doesn’t really have to worry about that.

Morgan walks over with a mug of coffee in his hand, eyebrow raised in amusement. “A hot date?”

“If you consider watching a french re-enactment of world war two as ‘hot’, then sure,” There isn’t a single ounce of sincerity in your tone, and Morgan glances between the two of you with a barely hidden smile, a chuckle bubbling in his throat.

Spencer, meanwhile, was just staring at Morgan with an indignant expression, silently begging him to not make this into a ‘thing’.

Unfortunately for Spencer though, Morgan was, well, Morgan.

He took one sip of the coffee in his hand, his eyes drifting between the two of you once more.

“French reinactment of the Second World War, huh?” he repeated, his smile turning into a cheeky smirk. “Why am I not surprised?”

There it was, that smirk.

It was the same one he always had on his face when it came to you two.

“It’s- it’s not like that” Spencer mumbled, his tongue quickly flickering out to lick at his suddenly dry lips.

“Sure, it’s not.” Morgan chuckled, enjoying every moment of this as he took another sip of his coffee. “The two of you are just gonna be sitting in a dark room… all alone… together…”

“Watching people get tortured…” You mimic the song-like drawl of Morgan’s voice to throw his ‘joking’ back onto him, rolling your eyes. “So romantic,”

A smirk remained fixed on Morgan’s face as he leaned over your desk until he was looking Spencer directly in the eye.

“I don’t know, you’re both nerds. This sounds like a perfect date to me”, he teased, causing Spencer to scoff in response.

“If that’s your idea of a ‘perfect date’ then I pray for whoever has the unfortunate circumstance of ending up with you,”

“Nah, don’t worry about me, Snowflake,” he chuckled, lifting the mug of coffee to his lips once more. “I’m not the one who’s gonna be sitting in a dark, lonely movie theatre with Doctor Genius here,”

“I don’t need to be ‘prayed for’, Reid is perfectly fine company,” You give Morgan another roll of your eyes, although whether at his comment or his ‘nickname’ Morgan is unsure.

“Sure, sure” he murmured, before pushing himself up off your desk with a smirk. “Enjoy the movie, lovebirds.”

He leaves the bullpen with a blown kiss in your directions, throwing the two of you a wink as he catches up to Garcia walking into the conference room.

You re-open your book once he’s out of sight, letting out a soft groan in lieu of Morgan’s tormenting.

You didn’t really hate it per se , but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t get on your nerves.

Spencer wasn’t unalike in his reaction, a breath of relief leaving his lips once Morgan’s back was turned.

‘Lovebirds’.

Spencer tried to mentally scoff the thought away, and tried not to blush at the thought either.

He glanced back at you, praying that hopefully you didn’t notice that small, involuntary flush that seemed to be crawling across his cheeks.

He continued to be frozen on the spot, eyes locked on your relaxed expression as you scanned the pages to see if you recognised certain parts of the text.

“Page 212...” His voice came out quiet as he spoke.

“What?” You take a second to divert your attention from the pages, eyebrows furrowed curiously in his direction.

Spencer swallowed, hoping that he at least looked composed despite feeling like the exact opposite.

“You were on page 212,” he explained, a small smile pulling at his lips as he caught your gaze.

“Right,” You don’t question his recollection as you skip to page 212, throwing him a dismissive “Thanks,” once you confirm you’re in the right place.

“You’re welcome,”

Spencer’s voice was quieter once more, not as anxious as before but still quiet. He watched you as you returned your gaze back to the pages of the hardback copy, and he was torn between the urge to just stand there and keep looking at you reading the book, or heading back to his desk to work on one of the many case files that had stacked themselves there.

Deciding that it would probably be a little creepy for him to just stand there watching you read, even if you didn’t seem to particularly mind it, he forced himself to look away.

Just as he turned to head around to his desk, he found himself blurting out something without even realising.

“You look nice today,”

Your eyes flicker back upwards from your book through furrowed eyebrows. “Thanks,”

You hadn’t actually changed anything about your appearance, the outfit you were wearing was practically identical to the one you wore most days, your hair was done the same, you hadn’t even showered that morning.

He quickly realised that he must’ve looked like a complete idiot and, for a moment, was wondering if he could rewind time to not say what he had just said.

“Uh, I mean—” he tried to backpedal, hoping that his awkward rambling could save him from this situation. “Not that you don’t usually look nice! I meant-!”

As he fumbled over his words, he mentally slapped himself. Why couldn’t he just be normal and not blurt out something so stupid at such a random time.

God he hoped this wouldn’t make you change your mind about wanting to spend time with him one on one.

Thankfully, the universe seemed to have a little mercy on him.

“Team, I need you in the conference room.”

So much for a full lunch break.

#cold!reader ᝰ.ᐟ #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #asks 🫶

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chahnniesroom · 5 months ago

Text

hoju (home)

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: even though chan has been living in korea for so many years, he still considers australia to be home. when he finally has the opportunity to go back and visit, he can't wait to bring you along and introduce you to the people and places that he grew up with.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: none :)

a/n: hoju (호주) is the korean word for australia.

this was a request from my sweet 🦦 anon! thank you for the inspiration, i had fun writing this and i hope that it meets your expectations. sorry that i did not write this in chan's pov 😅 as usual, please let me know if there are any typos or mistakes because i didn't have the chance to proofread 🥲

read it on ao3 | masterlist

Chan has been acting strange lately. Not enough that you're worried, just a little bit suspicious. He's never tried to hide what tabs he has open on his phone before and he's looked deep in thought quite a few times, but when you ask what he's thinking of, he changes the topic quickly. You're curious, but trust that Chan will talk to you when he's ready. Still, you can't quite ignore all of the changes in behaviour.

It's the same tonight. When you look up during dinner, Chan's just stirring around the noodles in his plate, only taking a bite every so often. You frown, trying to think of if you've done anything differently to prepare the food in a way that he doesn't like, but it tastes the same to you as usual. You rule out a lack of appetite, as he had just commented that he was starving while you were cooking.

“Is everything okay?” you ask hesitantly, after a few more minutes have passed.

“What?” Chan looks up, startled by the sound of your voice. “Oh no, everything's fine! Just… thinking.”

“Is it about work? Did something happen?” You know that Chan has been busier than usual this month, the boys have some time off in a few weeks and everybody is scrambling to get things finished in the meantime. You've also requested vacation at work, although so far you and Chan haven't planned anything. In fact, he's been a little bit cagey when you've brought up the topic. You try not to think much of it and really, it's just nice to be able to spend extra time together.

Honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if Chan has found out that his break has been cut short or even cancelled. It's rare that they’re able to have more than a few days off at a time which is why you had been so shocked when Chan had let you know that they didn't have schedules for a period of almost three weeks.

It would provide an explanation to everything that you've observed the past few days, you know that he would try his best to fix things before he had to tell you the bad news.

“Well-”

“It's okay if you found out you can't take time off,” you reassure him. “I understand that it's all up to the company and sometimes they change their mind at the last minute. I can just let my work know and take my vacation another time, I'm sure they might even be happy if I'm still around next month.”

“No!” Chan says, his eyes wide in panic. “We still have time off! Don't worry about that. It's actually- How would you feel about visiting Australia with me?”

It's your turn to stare at Chan in shock.

“Australia?”

“Yeah, it's been a while since I went back and-” Chan breaks eye contact, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I thought it'd be nice if I could introduce you to my family, in person.”

“You want me to meet your family? In Australia?” you repeat, dumbly.

“Only if you feel comfortable!” Chan says hurriedly. “I looked into tickets, but didn't book anything yet so it's totally up to you. I also wanted to check if my family was available beforehand and it's pretty good timing actually. If you don't want to, then it's totally fine, I'll probably go for either way and I think Felix is also considering it. It's just that we've been together for a while now and I've met your family and I know that my mom basically considers you to be her daughter-”

“I want to go,” you interrupt, not wanting Chan to spiral further. “I was just surprised, I guess, but of course I want to accompany you.”

Chan brightens at that, then grabs his computer, unlocking it and opening up a spreadsheet. As it loads, he reaches for his chopsticks and takes a huge bite of food. You can't help but smile fondly at the sight of his cheeks bulging with food as he chews, relieved that his appetite is back.

“I didn’t want to get too far ahead of myself, but I was looking at flights, and I think that if we leave on a Tuesday, it might be best. It means we can enjoy the weekend here and still have time to pack everything,” he explains excitedly. “It'll be less busy at the airport too, which will be nice, and it works out well with my parents’ schedules anyway.”

You hum in acknowledgement, content to follow along and take mental notes as Chan reads out everything else that he's thought of so far. He continues planning for the rest of the evening, trailing behind you as you clean up and do your nightly routine, only stopping to help you when you do the dishes and put away the laundry. It's cute how animated he becomes, putting together a long list of all the sites and restaurants that he wants to show you.

You can tell that he's still thinking of it as the two of you curl up in bed that night, every so often you feel him jolt behind you and turn to reach for the little pad of paper and pencil that he often keeps on his nightstand.

Eventually, you turn over and squint at him. He doesn't even pretend to be asleep.

“Hi,” he whispers. “Sorry if I'm keeping you awake.”

“Sleep,” you murmur tiredly. “We have lots of time to plan, get some rest for now and we can talk more tomorrow.”

Chan starts to protest, but you just nuzzle closer, pulling his hands to wrap around you. As you drift off to sleep, you can feel that Chan has finally relaxed too.

—

The two of you spend the first day of break slowly, sleeping in and having a lazy meal of bibimbap from all the banchan taking up space in your fridge. You only venture out of the apartment for dinner, going to your favourite local restaurant that you visit so often that the owner starts making your meals the second that the two of you step through the door. The next couple of days are also easygoing, consisting of shopping, watching dramas, and eventually preparing for your trip.

Throughout the drive to the airport and making your way through security and to your gate, you can tell Chan's a bit on edge even though you and Felix try to assure him that everything will be fine. The three of you are in incognito mode, wearing hats, face masks, and plain clothes but Chan’s still scanning your surroundings the whole time. You, on the other hand, can't help but be excited, bouncing at his side so much that he loops his arm over your shoulders to try and calm you down. Felix is more relaxed and laughs at the stark contrast between the both of you, even filming parts of it since he’s getting footage for a vlog. Luckily you know that any content with you in it is likely to be edited out and don’t bother to hide your eagerness.

While Chan is used to travelling often for concerts and other overseas schedules, you've rarely visited places outside of Korea and have certainly never flown business class. You squeeze Chan's hand when you see your seats, thrilled at the idea of having so much leg room and a divider between the two of you that can also be fully lowered. It keeps you entertained for the whole time before the plane takes off, taking pictures together and reclining your seat up and down until the seatbelt sign turns on.

The flight is over 10 hours, so it doesn't take long before you move your attention to browsing the menu that's available and scrolling through all of the movies on the in-flight entertainment system. Shortly after the dinner meal is served, you start to doze off. Wanting to make the most of the experience, you insist to Chan that you'll be able to stay awake to watch another movie with him, but only make it through the first 30 minutes before you wake up to a dark screen.

You blink up blearily as a flight attendant starts making their way through the aisles, handing out customs forms for everyone to fill out. When you receive yours, you stare at it for a few seconds before realising the problem is not the fact that you're still adjusting to being awake.

“Oh no,” you whisper in horror, causing Chan to glance over at you, concerned.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I didn’t think about practising English before this trip,” you reply, distress leaking into your voice. “The last time that I wrote anything in English was when I was in secondary school… I'm not going to survive in Australia!”

“Hey, it's not an issue, I'll be with you the whole time! You don't have to worry about any of that. And you know enough conversational English to get by, I know you do,” Chan says soothingly.

You refuse to be comforted, burying your face into your hands.

“How am I going to face your parents when I barely know anything other than ‘hi, how are you?’” you moan. “I'm not even going to make it through customs! They're going to arrest me when I can't answer any of their questions!”

You know that you're exaggerating, but it makes Chan laugh so hard that tears gather in the corners of his eyes. You try to keep up your act, but end up dissolving into laughter too at the way that Chan is trying so hard to stay quiet, not wanting to bring attention to you two.

Contrary to your fears, you manage to deplane, get through customs, and collect your luggage without any major issues. You had a moment of anxiety when Chan and Felix split up from you since you have to go into the lineup for foreign passports, but you are somehow able to fumble your way through the conversation with the border officer without being detained.

Felix splits up with you shortly after, you see that his tiredness from the long flight melts away the second that he sees his family. He gives you and Chan both a quick hug to say goodbye before running out to meet them.

Chan lights up in a similar way when he finally spots his parents. They're waiting in the pick-up zone and waves the two of you over quickly. You barely get the chance to say hi before Chan’s mother is enveloping you into a hug.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she says warmly. “Come on, let’s take you home.”

The drive is fairly short and it feels like no time at all before you’re approaching the house. The second that the front door opens, you hear a distinctive scrabble of claws against hardwood before Berry shoots towards Chan, tail wagging furiously. Chan immediately kneels down to give her better access, laughing when she stands on her hind legs to lick at his face.

Once she’s finished with that, she turns to you, barking curiously before moving closer. You stick out a hand for her to get an idea of your scent and try not to jump when you feel the cool, damp press of her nose against your palm. Whatever Berry smells, she approves of, giving you a few quick licks before running back to Chan.

“She’s so cute!” you exclaim, pulling out your phone so that you can take a picture of the reunion. You don't think that Chan even hears you, caught up in talking to Berry, giving her kisses and allowing her to do the same.

“I'll help you with your bags,” Chan's father says from beside you, easily lifting them out of your hands and motioning for you to enter the house. You exchange greetings with both of Chan's siblings as you remove your shoes, familiar with them through video calls and the one time that you met Hannah when she was travelling in Korea.

Chan’s family recently moved so this was also Chan’s first time seeing the house in person, the two of you trailing behind Chan’s father as he gave you a brief tour of the first floor before leading you upstairs. When you get to the guest room that you'll be staying in, Hannah pops her head in.

“Chris doesn’t spend enough time in Australia to have his own room in this house, so you guys are in this room.” She eyes you for a moment and based on the mischievous smile that’s growing, you can guess what she’s about to say. “Y/n, if you get sick of him, then feel free to stay with me instead!”

“Hey!” Chan complains, not even looking up from where he’s unpacking his bag. He grabs onto one of his shirts and chucks it at Hannah, but she easily dodges, throwing one of her slippers at him in retaliation. It hits Chan right in the chest and he looks at her in disbelief. He abandons his task in favour of chasing her throughout the house. You don't follow after, but you hear as their yelling and laughter echoes through the halls.

It’s refreshing to see Chan at home, no matter how comfortable Chan is with the rest of the kids, he’s still the leader of the group and the oldest member and the dynamic of their relationship reflects that. Even though it has barely been a few hours, you’re relieved to find that Chan has left behind the stresses of being an idol and can instead just be a son and an older brother.

His parents are hilarious and kind, it’s easy to see how Chan’s personality is a reflection of the environment that he was raised in. During dinner, you laugh at the way Chan pouts dramatically when Chan’s father pretends to forget about Chan when serving the food and how he groans in pleasure when he finally gets to taste his mother's cooking after so long. Hannah and Lucas continually crack jokes as you eat, especially if they're at Chan's expense and he pretends that he doesn't find them funny.

—

One afternoon you find Chan fiddling with the camera that he’s brought with him. You step up behind him, resting your chin on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Are you planning on filming tonight?” you ask, knowing that Chan was always careful to alert everyone in the house beforehand.

“Not today,” he replies. “Probably tomorrow, when I take out Berry for her morning walk. Did you want to join?”

“Of course!”

“I was thinking of going right after breakfast, before it gets too hot out,” he says as he pulls out the camera battery and fits it into the charger.

“Anywhere in particular you wanted to go?”

“Mmm, maybe by the water? There's a path that's not too far away. I don't want anything that's too close to the house, you know?”

“Good idea.”

“Are you planning on putting it into a vlog?” you ask curiously. "You haven't been filming much.”

"Actually…”

“What? You're making me nervous.”

“I was hoping to use it for a music video,” Chan says sheepishly.

“What?! I'm not qualified for that!! I can't- you need to find someone else-”

“No no, it's going to be fine! It's for a record, not like, an actual music video.”

“I don't know,” you say, still feeling hesitant.

“I promise, I'm going for the casual vibes and it's either you or like, my eomma, and I guarantee that you would do a better job.”

“Okay,” you say reluctantly. “But I can't guarantee it'll come out well.”

“Thank you! I know it'll be great,” Chan says, showering you with kisses in gratitude until you're squirming away.

—

The next morning, Chan’s parents are out, leaving all the kids to prepare food on their own. It's a little chaotic, but you manage to cobble together a decent meal. It's a lot of fun to see how Chan and his siblings interact without their parents around to mediate. You're amazed by how similar the three are, not only in appearance but also the way they behave.

Although much younger, Lucas shares a strong resemblance to Chan, especially once he smiles and shows off matching dimples. They quickly disappear once Chan reaches out and musses up his hair playfully as you’re all cleaning up.

“Chris, stop it,” he complains, pushing his older brother away before trying to fix the strands that are all over the place. It only encourages Chan to move closer, wrapping his arms around his brother and lifting him into the air. When trying to wiggle free doesn’t work, he turns pleading eyes to you, knowing Hannah wouldn't step in to help. “Noona! Get him to let me down!”

The two of you had been awkward the first time you had been left alone, it hadn’t helped that Lucas’ Korean could be considered conversational at best and your English was significantly worse, but you had quickly grown close through attempts to tease Chan. Now, it’s easy to treat him like the little brother you never had.

You approach quickly, trying to avoid Lucas’ flailing limbs, and reach out to poke at Chan’s waist. He twitches away from your touch and when you persist in prodding at all his ticklish spots, unwinds one of his arms to swat at your hand.

The distraction is enough for Lucas to break away and he quickly moves out of reach. Instead of chasing after him, Chan turns his focus to you. You back away nervously, but find yourself with nowhere to go. Chan grabs you and easily slings you over your shoulder, ignoring your shrieks of protest.

“Betrayed by my own girlfriend? I should have known that introducing you to my siblings would just be asking for trouble,” he growls in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Hey! Where are you taking me?” You look to see if his siblings are going to rescue you, but they must be trying to avoid Chan's wrath as you don't see either of them as Chan brings you up to the guest room.

“I am enlisting your help,” he says casually, as if he wasn't carrying you up a flight of stairs and dropping you on the bed. “I would like your advice on what to wear for Berry's walk.”

“Ooh,” you say. “Very important business then, I'm honoured that you would ask me.”

It doesn't actually take much time to get ready, the two of you change into clothes for the heat and you just have to convince Chan that he doesn't have to try to do his hair or makeup. The second that you mention to Berry that you're going for a walk, her tail starts wagging non-stop and she even fetches her leash and drops it in front of you.

Chan doesn't give you much direction for filming, just hands you the camera and tells you to capture whatever you want. The two of you walk hand in hand through the neighbourhood, Berry happily exploring the area. As you get further away from the house, you let go of Chan, motioning for him to continue walking as you turn on the camera and get used to it.

By the time you've reached the waterfront, you're feeling more confident and have a better idea of what you like. You try out different angles, feeling a little bit like paparazzi, and after a few minutes, even try directing Chan too. You let him keep going, wanting to see how far away he'll go before he realises that you're not following. He's almost a block away before he turns back.

“You’re smiling, did it come out okay?” Chan asks as he jogs back towards you.

“Yeah, it was great! I was just thinking that Stay are going to go crazy over this,” you tell him.

“They do really like it whenever they get to see Berry,” he says thoughtfully, picking her up and scratching her head. You burst out laughing at that and Chan frowns in response and goes as far as to cover Berry’s ears, insulted on her behalf. “What? Don’t laugh at that, it’s true! Berry is just so cute.”

“I’m not saying that they don’t like Berry, of course they do. I was more referring to the fact that the video is… domestic. Very boyfriend.”

“Ooh you think that's what Stay are interested in?” he asks. “What about this?”

He gestures for you to lift up the camera, and once you're recording, grabs your hand to pull you along behind him. You let out a small noise of surprise as he tugs on your arm, struggling slightly to keep everything steady and ensure your hand is out of frame. At your sound, Chan looks back slightly and bursts into laughter.

“So concentrated, you’re so cute,” he giggles.

“Of course,” you grumble. “I want it to turn out nice.”

“Thank you,” Chan says sincerely, no traces of laughter in his voice. “I really do appreciate it a lot that you're helping me with work even though we're on vacation.”

“Hmm,” you say, turning away from him. “You're just glad that you didn't have to ask Hannah, because she would make fun of you the whole time.”

“That's not true! I mean, it is true that Hannah would do that, but that's not the only reason.” Chan uses your connected hands and pulls you close. “I also wanted to spend time with my favourite person in the whole world.”

“You're lucky I love you so much,” you sniff, still pretending to be annoyed even though you've practically melted into Chan's hug. “Now stop getting distracted, I thought it would look nice if you walked along the sand and there's nobody there right now.”

—

The rest of your time in Sydney is a whirlwind of activities. Chan is determined to take you to all his favourite places in the city and you eat more food than you thought possible. Chan’s family, and sometimes Felix and his family, accompanies you two for a majority of the outings and your initial hesitance interacting with them is replaced by fondness, eased by the way that they treat you like one of their own.

You even have a chance to meet some of Chan’s childhood friends, ones that he kept close with despite the long distance. It feels strange to eat dinner with them. Although they do their best to make you feel welcome, they have a lot of history together and you find yourself struggling to keep up with their conversation, not just because of the language barrier but due to references to people, places, and events that you're unfamiliar with. Regardless, you're glad to finally know the people that Chan grew up with and you love seeing how happy Chan is to be reunited with them.

It’s also nice that while you're meeting so many people, you don't have to hide your relationship at all. In Korea, you and Chan are more careful in public. It’s not totally a secret that you’re dating, but you are more on the cautious side due to the popularity of Stray Kids and inevitable scrutiny from fans. In Australia, Chan has no such reservations, excitedly introducing you as his girlfriend to everyone. It never fails to make you blush, feeling shy, but secretly pleased.

Wherever you go, Chan keeps you close to his side, linking your hands or looping an arm around your shoulders. Throughout the day, he presses kisses to your head or cheek. The first time he does it, you look up at him questioningly. He just shrugs, saying that he’s happy and well, you can’t argue with that.

You don’t want your vacation to end and you know you're not the only one. You and Chan have both procrastinated packing your luggage until the last possible moment, and when you finally do begin, Berry seems to sense it. She starts hiding all of your things- Chan's family members finding them lodged in one of the couch cushions or in her dog bed- and curling up inside your suitcase, making it practically impossible to continue packing.

When Chan enters your shared room and pauses when he sees you staring into the suitcase helplessly. You wave him over so that he can look inside.

“She’s too cute! Look at that little face, how could you disturb her?” you ask.

Chan has no such reservations. He reaches in and gently lifts Berry out, cradling her against his chest so that she can’t jump back in.

“Berry, do you want to come to Korea with us?” he asks patiently. When she licks at his face in reply, he groans and pretends to lower her back into the suitcase. “Ah, I guess we have no choice but to bring you! I think we can sneak you in with the rest of the souvenirs that we’re taking with us.”

Despite Chan’s promises, Berry ends up staying behind, not even joining you on the drive to the airport. You’re lucky that you decide to leave well before your flight is expected to depart as you end up taking almost half an hour saying goodbye to everybody.

You know that you’re going to treasure these memories for a long time and you’re certain that Chan will too. It’s amazing that even though you were only in Australia for a couple weeks, it already feels like a second home.

read it on ao3 | masterlist

651 notes · View notes

puckinghischier · 14 days ago

Note

I know we don’t know how they are in all reality but I feel it in my bones that Luke is the sweetest human and cares so much about those in his circle. He gives off such cozy and safe vibes.

i also really think this is true. i think jack and quinn are too, but i feel like luke is so much more in tune with those around him.

i know it’s kinda been said he’s a chronic yapper around the people he likes/is comfortable with, but i feel like he’s also quiet at times. but not quiet as in he has nothing to say, quiet as in he’s observant. i just can see him sitting in a group with everyone, having his moments where he’s adding into the convo and cracking jokes, but also if he notices even one person’s vibe is off he’s watching them.

he’s making sure they’re okay, making sure they’re heard if they have something to say, keeping a close eye on their body language and facial expressions.

being the youngest, i feel like he gets what it’s like to be left behind in a conversation or feel like by the time you have the opportunity to add your comments the moment has passed, so he’s def the type the tell everyone to stop for a second bc someone has something to say.

i also have this feeling he’s the type to go seek out those who seclude themselves in a corner. he wants to make sure they know they can join if they want to, but it’s okay if they don’t want to, too. he’ll stand there and chat with them or be their buffer if they want an in to the larger conversation

overall i just feel like he’s a super attentive person. he seems the type to be able to read people well, so i think he’s definitely always keen on making sure people feel like they belong and welcomed in any atmosphere they’re in

#alliyaps #this is lowkey not what you meant #but the rambling started and didn’t stop #hockey #nhl #luke hughes

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magicians-abode · 8 months ago

Text

"A slip of the tongue"

[Chilchuck Tims x gender neutral reader]

Warnings: none ‐ fluff ahead - one suggestive comment

At some point during the group's adventuring themselves deep into the dungeon once again, although he wasn't sure when, Chilchuck grew accustomed, in a way, to the way you treated him so differently from the rest.

You always liked to tease him and compliment him. Not like you didn't compliment the others. But you seemed to have a knack for sparing all your attention for when he was near you.

And despite his own rules of not mixing his personal life with work, he found himself sighing in annoyance at himself when he noticed how everyday he'd expect, almost too happy for his own liking, a compliment from you.

Today was no different for everyone. They'd been wondering through the halls of the fourth floor when Marcille's stomach rumbled, catching the attention of everyone.

—Sorry... so much walking is making me hungry again— she huffed, knowing damn well that Senshi would probably make them stop to cook another hearty monster based meal.

—Yeah, me too. After all, we've only had those coinbugs today as a snack. They were tasty but not that filling— (y/n) said as they placed a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. Everyone agreed to keep walking a bit more and then they would stop to eat properly this time.

And when they reached to that point, Senshi murmured something about "keeping the young ones well nourished" and he got to work on the cooking.

Chilchuck offered to help by peeling something he didn't remember the name of right now, and (y/n) couldn't help but stare as he worked skillfully with his hands.

—Those hands would be good with a partner— they mumble to him as they decide to sit by his side. The comment makes his hands falter for a quick moment, and he looks up at them perplexed.

—Don't go around saying things like that!— he huffs to them, a spark of a blush blooming on his frowning face.—That is so inappropriate...— he mumbles with embarrassment as he goes back to peeling, and (y/n) doesn't bother containing the giggle that erupts from them.

—You're so handsome when you blush, you know that?—.

—I'm not blushing— he denied the fact— and yes I am handsome, you don't need to tell me.— Despite his own embarrassment, he didn't pass the opportunity for playful or teasing banter. That's just how he was. And that's just how they loved him.

Marcille watched them and nudged Laios, excited as if she were reading another one of the chapters on her romance novels. Laios just smiled and went back to watching Senshi cook, more interested in the food than in their companions flirting with each other.

Marcille was glad she had something else to pay attention to beside the monster cooking in front of her that she had to consume later.

—You took your gloves off...— (y/n) noticed, paying that much attention to him.

—Well I wouldn't want to... contaminate the food— he mumbled. (y/n) looked at his hands, and then at the gloves, and then at their own hands. They wondered if he wouldn't mind if they just...

Slipping the finger-less gloves on one hand and then the other, the leather cold to the touch, they gasp in an exaggerated manner just to catch his attention.

—They're so comfy— they close and open their hands, and Chilchuck turns their head to see what they were talking about.

—What is–? Hey! Who said you could borrow my gloves?— he forgets the knife and the food he finished peeling and goes to grab their hands— you desperately want to be me that much?— he chuckles teasingly, observing their fingers. —honestly they don't look half bad on you— he places the palms of his hands softly against (y/n)'s, looking at the difference.

—Oh my spells, just kiss already!— shouts an incredibly happy Marcille as she watches them interact in such an adorable way, interrupting their moment.

Chilchuck scoffs, looking away but not letting go of their hands— as if— he mumbles pretending to be upset by her "stupid" comment. In reality, his heart pounded in his chest as the idea flashed on his mind, igniting a blush on his cheeks once again.

—Ouch, you think I'm that ugly?— they pout playfully, placing a hand over their chest in fake hurt.

—I–! stop it!— he tsked, his eyes flying to look at them—I never said that!— he admits aloud.

His cheeks flush further in realization, even his ears going red at his slip.

—Aww— Marcille and Laios watch from the sidelines, amused by how they joked with each other.

—Thank you— (y/n) mumbles to him, sort of embarrassed by the sudden compliment as they watch Chilchuck cross his arms.

—Whatever...— he stands up and walks to where Senshi is, faking sudden interest in the food that was almost done.

His heart beat wildly inside his ribcage, and the thought that, maybe growing closer to one party member wasn't that bad, crossed his mind to stay there for a while.

#sorry if this is so long #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #laios touden #marcille dungeon meshi #fanfic

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kestisvrse · 1 year ago

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bad for business

pairing ⋆ anthony lockwood x gn!reader. fluff with a bit of angst. fake dating.

synopsis ⋆ the three times you found yourself fake dating anthony lockwood.

warnings �� swearing, reader is implied to be shorter than lockwood, being followed, kissing (written by someone without their first kiss send help). | wc: 1.4k

♫ - bad for business by sabrina carpenter

1. a walk home

“ladies first.” you snort at lockwoods comment as he holds the door for you to exit arif’s, a box of donuts secured in your hands.

“wow what a gentleman.” you joke making lockwood laugh a little as you begin your walk towards home, a comfortable silence falling between you two, a minute or so passes.

“someone’s following us.” lockwood says nonchalantly, you furrow your eyebrows looking at him, “he was standing outside arif’s when we went in, he was staring at you the whole time and now he is getting closer.” lockwood says looking over his shoulder, shuffling slightly closer towards you.

“well what do we do?” you ask slightly panicked.

“hold my hand.”

“i’m sorry?” you say, he failed to answer as he grabs the box of donuts out of your hands, using his free hand to intertwine your fingers.

“just trust me okay? maybe if he thinks we are together he will leave us alone.” lockwood clarified.

“o-okay, i guess” you mutter, a light blush painting your cheeks at the feeling of his thumb lightly rubbing your hand.

you were nearing portland row, you and lockwood standing closer together, you freeze up as he places a kiss on the top of your head to nonchalantly glance behind you two, “i see him, he is walking away. just… keeping holding on until we get home… just incase.” you nod, silently agreeing with him.

he didn’t let go of your hand until he placed the box of donuts on the kitchen table.

2. too close for comfort

lockwood had convinced you, lucy and george to go to this ‘ball’, you honestly didn’t know what to call it. it was a fancy building filled with agents dressed up and the adults that exploit their talents for money, celebrating nothing in particular and somehow, lockwood and co. got invites.

lockwood looked like he was at home, while george uncomfortably tugged at the collar of his button up and wandered off with lucy, leaving you and lockwood, standing in the middle of the ballroom.

“why are we here, lockwood?” you pried.

“why not? every agent in london is here.” he responds.

“that doesn’t mean we have to be.” you shot back, annoyed by a man who pushed past you, causing you to knock shoulders with anthony.

“it’s a good opportunity, to meet new people and get our name out there.”

“with our competition? yeah alright. i need something to drink.” you wandered off.

some time had passed, it included you leaning against the wall observing everyone that passed by, you had found george and lucy at one point where george had gave up and went home while lucy decided to investigate around for god knows what. you decided it was time to find lockwood again.

wandering around aimlessly you spotted him in the sea of tuxes, talking to a blonde girl, in a blue 90s like prom dress, inching closer and closer to lockwood.

you rolled your eyes at the sight, lockwoods charming smile seemingly working again, but it didn’t look like he used it on purpose this time.

“there you are, i’ve been looking for you everywhere!” you smoothly entered the conversation, linking your arm with his and his whole face seemed to light up.

“oh.” the blonde commented, squinting her eyes, “who’s this?”

“i’m-“ he cut you off, taking the lead.

“this is my partner.” lockwood replied, you smiled at the girl as she realized she misread the situation, quickly saying goodbyes and walking off.

“i couldn’t tell if you needed saving or not.” you explained, a hidden apology heard beneath your words just incase he was enjoying the girls company.

“no i did, thank you.” he said, making eye contact, “maybe we should head home now?”

“let’s find lucy first.” you suggested, and he sent you a grin.

that damn grin.

3. distraction

you had warned him.

you had told him there had to be a better way to get information that didn’t involve breaking and entering. but as per usual he used his charisma and webbed you into the whole plan.

and now, you two were running down alleyways, after being caught. ‘i told you so’ repeating over and over again in your head as you focused on running, and of course you reached another problem.

“shit!” you whispered, lockwood dragging you back behind a wall, your only escape had multiple body guards roaming the area.

“how the hell did they even get there.” lockwood said to himself.

“what do we do?? there are two other body guards about to block off the way we came from!” you panted out, catching your breath from running.

“i have a crazy idea.” lockwood made eye contact with you, he seemed nervous as he ran his hand through his hair.

“all your ideas are crazy, anthony.” you countered.

“just listen okay?” he whispers, you slowly nod, “if we can make it seem like, we have no idea what’s going on around us and that we accidentally stumbled up here maybe they won’t think it’s us.” you gave him a blank stare.

“what are you even suggesting right now lockwood?!” you grumbled, faintly you heard footsteps approaching.

“we do not have time for this, do you trust me?”

“do i have a choice?” you quipped, but suddenly the conversation was over as he cupped your cheeks and suddenly his lips were on yours. you froze up, you expected his plan to be anything but this, but then you heard the footsteps turn the corner and you needed to act just like him, quickly kissing back.

his lips were chapped, rough against your soft ones. as you brought your hands up to his face, his hands moved down to your waist, pulling you closer. it felt eager, like you had been waiting to do this forever, and it felt right.

“HEY!” you two snapped apart from the loud yell, breathless as you stare at the taller man infront of you “this is private property, you kids can’t be here.” his tone was threatening, making you tense up.

“we are so sorry sir.” you replied sweetly, “we didn’t know, we will leave right away!” you grab lockwood’s hand and hurried towards the exit before the man could question you anymore.

you held hands all the way home, but didn’t mutter a word to each other.

4. overdue confession

it had been around a week since lockwood had kissed you. you hadn’t spoken. the house having an awkward atmosphere as you avoided lockwood like the plague.

you couldn’t avoid the knock on your door, unfortunately.

“come in.” you called out from your spot on the bed, expecting lucy to walk in but were met with lockwood.

he was wearing his usual suit but he looked disheveled, his tie loose, his hair slightly messy and he looked so tired, even more tired than usual, he was a mess.

“hey.” he spoke just above a whisper, scared any louder you would run away from him again.

“oh. hi.” you sat up in your bed, suddenly looking anywhere but him, fiddling with your hands.

“i want to apologize, i shouldn’t have kissed yo-“ he began.

“we wouldn’t have gotten out of there if you hadn’t, it’s okay.” you stated, sniffling slightly. your bed dipped as he sat down.

“then why won’t you talk to me?” you looked up to his eyes, “please talk to me.” he begged, you looked into each others eyes for a moment.

“i was avoiding you because of the fact that i.. i didn’t want the kiss to end.” you confessed, “i like you, lockwood, and i didn’t want to ruin anything so i thought avoiding you would be better..” you trailed off, the air was tense as he stared at you.

“oh thank god.” he laughed out.

“what?” your anxiety kicked in, as you stared at him.

“i was scared to confess, i’m glad you did first.” your eyebrows furrow at his response, “i really like you, i have since i met you. i didn’t want the kiss to end either.”

your eyes widened slightly, studying his voice for any sound of sarcasm.

“can i kiss you again?” he whispered, scared of your rejection, you just slowly nodded looking down at his lips, he lent in.

his lips weren’t chapped this time, they were soft and you took notice of just how well they fit against yours. this kiss was softer than the first, it washed your anxiety away, and the tense air disappeared. he pulled away and laid his forehead against yours.

“i thought i was being dreadfully obvious about my feelings.”

“you were not.” you laughed at him

“oh no i was, you are just oblivious.” he responded

“shut up.” you said, and he did as his lips met yours yet again.

#lockwood netflix #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #anthony bloody lockwood #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co #x reader #lucy carlyle #george karim #netflix #lockwood and co netflix #fake dating #oblivious idiots #sienna’s fics

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fashionteahouse · 27 days ago

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out of your league - paul x reader

AN: thank you guys for loving up the last twenty parts xoxoxo <<prev >>next

You cried all night. You didn’t even go to sleep because before you knew it, the sunlight was peaking from the sides of the blackout curtains. You had watched the room transition from nighttime to daytime through your tears.

You lay face down in a pillow when a loud knock was heard. You ignored it. You didn’t have the energy to move. It knocked more rapidly and louder. You groaned and kicked your covers off. You swing the door open and Alice looked at you in horror.

“Why aren’t you dressed?!” she says peering at you in a high octave tone. Your wrinkled pajamas was hugged to your body.

You slump your shoulders as she swiftly made her way into your room. Your light was now on and you squint and block the light with your hand.

“You look horrible.” she comments.

“Thanks.” you say sarcastically but quietly because you had no energy left. You even ran out of tears.

She unzipped the plastic bag that held your outfit and laid the handmade clothes on your bed.

“Let’s go. Larry’s not going to stay long.” she says.

After spitting out the toothpaste, you tried your best to wash your face and seen that your eyes showed that you were crying all night. You sit with your arms crossed when you were finally dressed. It fit you perfectly. You crossed your legs since you had on a skirt.

She reaches forward to place concealer under your eyes but you lean back.

“Y/N, you and I both know you look like a zombified mess.” she says.

You sigh as you place your hands on your knee, “I just want to drop this paper off so I can sulk some more.” you say.

Alice does look concerned as she observed your sad face and demeanor. She sets everything down and places her hands on your shoulders.

“I told you it will hurt. You just have to keep pushing. Things are going to lighten up.”

“That’s tough to believe.” you say with a sigh you eventually let her dab on the coverage on your face with her finger.

Alice skips outside with you as you both come out of the hotel. She follows you as you scoot into the car.

“You didn’t have to come.” you say to Edward who is in the backseat as well.

He doesn’t say anything as Alice is now on the opposite side of you, closing the car door shut on her side. His eyes are stuck at what you have on. You decide to stare straight ahead as the driver worked the wheel.

Larry really was only there to stop in, take his messages and leave. He was very pleased to see you as he gladly takes the paper out of your hands.

He tells you with a confident smile, “I think we will be a great team.”

You force a friendly smile and thank him again for the opportunity. As you leave out, you realize it’s been set in stone. There’s definitely no turning back now. You walk in the opposite direction as Edward and Alice.

You just wanted some coffee.

The shop was small and cozy and you were glad that it wasn’t overcrowded.

As the steam rises out of your cup, both hands are placed on either sides of your mug as you peer down at it. Edward chose to follow you, sitting down across from you at the small table, silently. He watched you zone out a bit as you just sit there staring at the brown liquid.

“You’re not going to eat?” he asks as he watched you.

You shake your head.

“You’re beating your body up.” he says softly.

“Good. I deserve it.” you say back.

“You can’t punish yourself.” he says. He places two hands on the table and relaxes them.

“And why not?” you say nastily as you glare at his face. His voice is still calm when he speaks again.

“You did nothing bad.” he says. You don’t say anything.

Some time passed as you take a small sip. You look to your side out of the window. As you shifted your leg to overlap your other one, you noticed his leg was a bit close to yours as he stretched his out some.

You check the time. You were supposed to board your plane an hour ago. You sigh softly.

“Alice canceled the other leg.” he explains as he watched you set your phone down.

“Great.” you whisper out as you continue to watch the window.

You watch as people walk and some even run past. You notice the clouds starting to form with one another, darkening the sky a bit.

You blinked as your eyesight started to fade in and out. You rise up as you start to feel your mouth water.

Luckily the bathroom was for one person, leaving you to fling the door closed. You heaved over the toilet, bending over as nothing came out. You clutched your stomach as it kept pressing itself in, trying to find something to reject. You whimper at the feeling, letting the excess saliva fall into the toilet instead.

You bend your knees, squeezing your eyes shut as you continue to hold your stomach.

You heard a soft knock and a voice following it, “Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” you say softly, still trying to focus on not being nauseous, “I will be out in just a minute.”

You rise after some time, you rinse your face with cold water. You were feeling a bit overheated. You dab your face dry with a paper towel and looked into the mirror.

You barely recognized yourself. This was not the person who left La Push. This was not the person who came here with high hopes.

You didn’t know if you were overreacting, but you looked close to being dead. Alice’s placement of the concealer made you feel thankful.

You made sure your legs were steady as you came out of the bathroom, Edward was waiting nearby.

“Are you alright?” he asks again and places a hand on a spot on your back.

“Yes.” you say. You have a seat again.

“You really should eat something. The coffee will only curb your appetite.” he says to you.

You don’t listen as you continue to sip on it, the liquid now being a cool room temperature. You didn’t set the mug down until a brown ring was at the bottom of it.

“It’s going to rain.” Edward says as he takes off his jacket and follows you out the door.

“What a day.” you comment as you didn’t have an umbrella. Just the stylish clothes that Alice had made for you. You cross your arms as you continue to walk.

He raised and wrapped it around you, covering your head perfectly, and in the nick of time, rain fell down onto you.

“You’re going to get wet.” you say to him as he’s walking with you closer next to him.

“It’s alright. I can’t get sick but, you can.” he says with a soft grin.

He opens the car door, you bend down and carefully slide into the car, and he follows in after you, closing the car door.

You lean your head back as the patter hits the windows and the driver works the wheel.

You sit up after some time, noticing the route was not back to your hotel room. You look to Edward. He looks to you.

“Alice had to check you out.” he says.

“I hope she didn’t forget anything.” you say, shaking your head a bit.

“This is Alice we are talking about.” he says and you couldn’t argue with that.

“So…Why are we here?” you ask as the brake screeches in front of the penthouse that stood tall.

“She has your things.” he says and grabs his jacket and holds it for you to come out.

You don’t even feel the rain as you walk in.

Edward unlocks and open the door and Alice is right at your face. She pulls you into the home.

“I know you did something.” you tell her as she smiles.

“I did.” she says in a quirky tone. You flop down on the large couch, “Where’s my things?” you ask.

“In the spare room. Guess what? I got you an apartment!” she says and smiles brightly.

“Alice!” you say with widened eyes.

“Before you freak out, it’s month to month.” she says but you shake your head.

“I was going to pay for the extra time being here at the hotel.”

“You don’t want your own space? I mean the hotel was nice and all but, you’re going to be working and you need your own space to I don’t know..Move around.” she says to you.

“What am I going to do with you?” you say shaking your head.

“Love me!” she says comically and she zips out of the room and comes back in with a blanket.

“Lay down Y/N. Sleep.” she says to you.

“I’m actually not tired anymore.” you say as you blink and don’t feel the heaviness in your eyes.

“I’m not going for that.” she says as you lay down comfortably. The blanket is over your body.

“Me and Jazz are only going out hunting. When you wake up, we will get you something to eat.” she tells you and you nod. She looks up to her brother who standing over the couch.

“Are you coming?” she asks him.

He slightly shakes his head as he comes around the sofa.

“I’m fine, I’ll go later on. I’m good right now.” he says and takes a seat on the opposite side of you.

“Okay.” she says to him. She turns her attention back onto you and places a hand on your forehead, “Y/N. Sleep.”

“Yes, mommy dearest.” you say.

This brings out a smirk from Alice and a chuckle from Edward. She’s out of the room.

“Can I watch tv?” you ask and sit up on your elbows.

“Y/N.” Edward says and shakes his head slightly with a grin.

“Come on, please?” you slightly poke your lip out before smiling.

He fakes a tired sigh before saying, “Fine. But, I’m turning on what to watch.”

“What?” you say as you slump back down.

“I can either turn on a movie or the news channel.” he teases.

“The movie it is.” you quietly say.

The black and white picture comes into view. You watch as a man drives with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth with two hands on the steering wheel. An old piano is heard to be playing as the character does so.

“What’s this?” you ask at the clearly old movie.

“Le petit soldat.” he answers in perfect french pronunciation.

“It better not be boring.” you quietly say.

“If it’s boring, you will sleep.” he whispers as he watched the screen.

You continue to watch anyway. Watching as the male character brings out a camera from the backseat of his car, aiming and shooting at the couple who’s kissing in front of a sign.

“Aimez-vous les uns les autres”

You only knew what it said because of the class you took when you were a freshman in high school.

“Love one another”

You began to yawn as he drove away.

The french male narration follows you into your dreams. You dreamed of Paul. You dreamed of his face. You reached out to him and he simply ignored you. You felt like crying but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You moved forward but an invisible glass was blocking you. He doesn’t look up but you yelled but no sound came out and you banged against the glass with all of your might.

You woke up to a dark room. The tv glowing back at you with something else on. You sit up a bit after rubbing your eyes to find Edward taking his eyes off of the television and onto you.

“How did you sleep?” he asks.

“I slept well.” you say, refusing to say alright.

“Are you hungry? The rain slowed up.” he says.

“It’s still daytime?” you ask.

“No. It’s dusk.” he says to you.

You go to move your sock covered legs and feet, only to find them resting very close to his lap.

You knit your eyebrows a bit as you slowly rise up and stretch your arms out.

“I still feel like I got hit by a bus.” you comment.

“Still?”

“Yeah.” you say, “I need an umbrella. Just in case.”

“I have one.” he says as he takes one out of the coat closet.

“Never mind.” you mutter and slide on the loafers that you had taken off earlier.

You slide on your jacket. As you walk into the streets, the drizzle fell over the umbrella that Edward held.

You immediately felt lightheaded. You didn’t know what else to do, so you clutched onto his arm. Edward looked down at you in slight perturbation.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“I don’t know. I feel weird.” you say as you clutch his arm a bit tighter. Your vision started to be unfocused again as you started to not see what was in front of you.

You felt him direct you in somewhere, when you sit down you breathed out a small sigh as you rubbed your eyes.

“We got seated that quick?” you ask as you looked around the restaurant.

“I was worried. You really need to eat something. I had to do what I had to do.” he says as he looked at his arm that was resting on the table.

The waitress soon comes over with a big smile, mostly to Edward. Taking a look at her dazed face, you knew what he did. She leaves off to get you a drink and you lean forward, “Did you..?”

He nods. The thing was, he didn’t feel sorry about it in the slightest.

You felt the same feeling from earlier then. You rise up but you had to hold the table to keep your balance.

You felt a cool hand on your hand.

“Y/N?”

“I just need to go to the restroom.” you rush out as you tried your best to rush through the restaurant to find a bathroom.

You couldn’t make it into the stall before you dry heaved again over the sink. Nothing could come up as your body pressed against you. You clutch the sink as you leaned forward.

You take your phone out of your jacket and you so badly wanted to click on his contact. But, you knew that he would tell you to come home. You set it down on the sink and you noticed that the stall doors were open. You breathed out a sigh of relief that you had some type of privacy.

You looked into the mirror and you looked as if you were about to pass out at any given moment.

You hear a loud buzz. Picking it up, you immediately answer.

“Hello?”

“What’s going on Y/N?”

“Sam, what do you mean?”

“Paul won’t tell me anything. I thought you were supposed to come home yesterday.” he speaks out.

“Yeah um..It was a mixture of things. I accepted a real good opportunity which is making me stay here longer. And…I heard about the threat that you guys have to deal with.” you explain.

“It has to be more than that. He tried to test my authority. I didn’t want to but, I had to make him submit all over again.” he says and it was a voice of a man who’s tired.

“It’s my fault. He really wanted me to come home. I..” you say and sigh before closing your eyes.

“Can I speak to him? Is he around?” you ask.

“He hasn’t phased out since yesterday.” he tells you.

“Well…Can you tell him that…I do care about him…I didn’t want to hurt him.” you say sadly.

“I can tell him. I think what really ticked him on edge was that Emily left to see her mother and she was able to come back. He kept saying ‘she left me’ before he snapped.” he tells you.

You felt your heart drop as you knew that wasn’t the reason before shaking your head, “I didn’t leave him. I swear I didn’t. I really will be back soon I just have to work here for a while.”

“What’s a while?”

“A year.” you say after you scratch your eyebrow with one finger.

“A year?! Y/N. No wonder he’s going crazy.” he says with a deep sigh.

“What?” you say in confusion.

“His wolf can’t be away from his imprint that long. He’s right, you do need to come home.”

“Sam, that’s not fair. You of all people should know how much this means to me! I go home and what? Worry every five seconds about whether or not he makes it back safe and alive? This opportunity is the main reason why I didn’t even go to college!” you say as you pace a bit with the phone stuck to your ear.

“I get it. I completely do.” he says stoically.

“No. You don’t. You’re sounding just like him!” you say in frustration.

��You can’t expect normalcy in the supernatural world. It sounds unfair, I know, but it’s just the reality. It’s what comes with it. When you accepted the imprint, you agreed to accept everything that comes with it. I was feeling what he was feeling when Emily was gone as well. You don’t get it, Y/N. The imprint balances the wolf so that means with you away, especially for a long period of time, he can go rogue.” he says carefully.

“I have to do this, Sam.” you say.

“Just think about what I said. Just please think about it. In a situation like this, we really need to stick together. We can’t afford our pack being broken apart over a cold one.” he says.

“I will. I give you respect, so I will.” you sincerely say. He seems pleased with this as he wishes you well and adds, “If anything doesn’t seem right or if you don’t feel right, please, please, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

You agree.

Edward looks at you as you have a seat.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. I’m afraid you’re right. I am beating up my body.” you say in defeat.

“I ordered you something simple.” he tells you.

“I was gone for that long?” you say and put your head in your hands. He nods.

You ate all of your food in one sitting, you felt slightly better. But, not all the way better. You didn’t understand. You had gotten rest, you ate, so why did you feel uneasy still? You, however, didn’t make it known.

“There’s a library nearby. Would you like to go?” Edward offers as you both walk again.

“Sure.” you say with a shrug.

In the aisle of the thriller section, you came to realization.

“I don’t even know what I’m going to make.” you whisper in the quiet setting.

He places a book back onto the shelf, reaching his arm over you as he slid it back.

“How about how you feel?” he suggests.

“What? Sickly?” you ask with a soft grin.

“I mean…..You could play on that.” he says grinning back.

“I guess…I want to do something I’ve never done before.” you mused.

“Something you’ve never done before?” he questions.

“I want to really make something that will have someone think.” you say as you turn the book over to skim the back of it.

“You already do that.” he says and you see a glimpse of white from his mouth.

“I don’t know.” you say with a shrug.

“What about…?” he starts but you stop walking to the next section. You look at him to continue.

“What about love?” he suggests.

“Love is too complex. Do we really know what it is?” you say with a light laugh.

“It’s a spectrum. It doesn’t have to be just…One thing in order to define it.”

“I suppose.” you say and you settle with a greek mythology book.

Edward let you use his address to get a library card.

“I think I want to sculpt something. Like really get hands on.” you say as you both walk back to the penthouse.

“That would be interesting.” he comments.

“After what I saw what Larry displays, I have some serious competition.” you say as the elevator door closes.

“They’re not as good as you.” he comments quietly as the elevator moves up.

“That’s a stretch.” you say quietly chuckling.

“It’s true. You make people stop and feel.” he says as he walks next to you.

He opens the door and Alice and Jasper were home.

“Hey.” you greet them both. They greet you back.

You felt a hand be placed on your shoulder, you look.

“I will be back. I need to hunt.” he says to you. You nod.

“I’m going to my ‘for now’ room.” you tell Alice as you start to walk and she guides you to the spare room.

It was grand. You didn’t expect less from them. Your suitcase was standing proud. You peered into it and Alice did make sure to grab everything.

You flopped on the bed after closing the door. You still felt incredibly exhausted. Your mind started to race as you stared up at the ceiling from the bed.

You sit up with a wince and a gasp. It felt like your body was smacked into something hard. You roll off the bed and onto the floor as you hold your sides. It hurt too much to feel embarrassing.

Alice rushed in, kneel at your side, “Oh my god, are you alright?”

“I don’t know.” you say as you wanted to cry. Jasper stands behind her. You felt the pain starting to ease up, but you knew something was wrong.

She helps you rise up and she takes a long look at you, “It feels like you’re burning up.” she comments to you.

“I think… I think I need to lay down.” you say as your vision start to blur. You put one knee on the bed before you land forward on the soft bed.

You don’t know what happened next, but you woke up to Edward sitting in the chair in the corner of the room.

You groan as you turn over. A blanket from the bed was over you and you push it off the upper part of your body.

“What’s wrong with me?” you whisper into the darkness.

“Do you want to go to the hospital?”

“No. Paul will freak.” You say as you blink at the dark room.

“Should I get Carlisle?” he asks. You think for a moment and nod, you hearing his footsteps let you know that his eyes could still see you in the dark.

He stands as he exits the room.

Alice comes in right after he leaves and placed a hand on your forehead while sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Did you see this? In your vision?” you ask.

“No. I wasn’t looking for your future, the traumatic event as it was your choice to go home, hit at me so strongly.” she admits.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” you comment.

“Carlisle will be here soon.” she reassured you and hold your hand. The cool hand noticeably contrast in your fevered hand.

“When can I go home? It feels like….It feels like I’m dying.” you say with a whine at the last part.

“It’s going to be some time before Victoria is dead.” she says to you.

“How much time? I miss Paul. I just want Paul.” you say as you squeezed your eyes closed, you didn’t want to cry but you were on the verge of tears. She then rubs your shoulder.

“I know.” she says softly with a hint of compassion.

She sits with you until you hear the door open again. She stands up as she says hello to the father figure.

Carlisle felt your head with his hand as he peered down at you.

“You do feel very hot.” he says.

“She hasn’t been taking care of herself.” Edward says as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Edward, not now.” you say with annoyance.

“He’s a bit right. It’s important for you to get plenty of sleep and to eat. Now, I don’t understand why you were pain. What did it feel like?” Carlisle asks you.

“Like something smacked me hard. It just smacked me out of nowhere. My vision goes in and out to where it’s a bit hard to see if front of me at times.” you explain.

“She said she felt like she got hit by a truck when she had woken up earlier.” Edward adds on. Carlisle takes a worried glance at you after hearing this.

“You should take it easy.” Carlisle says and then looks to Edward without saying anything. It was evident that communication was happening. Edward rises and leaves the room immediately.

“It seems like you’re experiencing a sudden drop in blood pressure. As for the pain, do you feel sick?” he asks.

“No. I don’t feel sick.” You say as Edward hands you a glass of water. He made the effort to hold the glass as you drink in little by little. You sighed from the refreshment and lay back to find find yourself fluffed up with pillows . Alice puts a pillow under your legs.

“How will I work? I need to get better.” you say.

“Don’t rush it.” Edward tells you.

“I have a lot I need to do.” you say as you start to droop and close your eyes.

“Just let her sleep.” Carlisle says to Edward. Edward stands as he peered down at you. Your chest began to rise and fall slowly.

“Edward.” Carlisle says to Edward, who was still peering down at you, to get him to let you be.

As much as he didn’t want to, he turned and leaves out of the room.

You woke up to it already being the next morning. You rub your eyes as the bright light shined through the curtains.

You reached over and seen that Paul did call an hour prior to you waking up. You immediately get out of bed and get dressed.

After checking your email, you find out you have to fly to LA the next day. The duration was for two days. This was the tightest deadline you’ve ever gotten.

After brushing your teeth, Alice is in your face with a muffin.

“Eat.” she says.

“Thanks.” you say with a smile.

Alice takes your arm and you’re in the living room. Carlisle was still there. You smile at him as he smiles back.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Better.” you say as you do. You then turn to Alice, “After I eat, I need to go to get art supplies.”

“Okay! I know where we could go.”

You look down while chewing and you swallow.

“Um…I was thinking I go alone. I won’t be long.” you say and she doesn’t feel down about it as she grins and nods.

As you walk, you call Paul. He answers on the first ring.

He doesn’t get hello out before you ramble on, “I’m so sorry, Paul. I promise I do care about you. I didn’t leave you, I swear I didn’t. I do miss you. Things are just so complicated. I promise I will come back home.”

“I miss you too.” he says quietly, you had to strain to hear him but you still smile.

“I talked to Sam.” you tell him.

“I know. He told me.” he says in the same volume.

“I have to….” you say and close your mouth.

“What is it?” he says not bothering to speak louder.,

“When I tell you I love you, I want to tell you it because I feel it.”

“Okay.”

Silence follows after.

“I’m going to LA tomorrow.” you tell him.

“Okay.”

You searched for more to say as you felt sad that the conversation was nothing like it’s ever been before.

“I gotta go.” he says.

“Booo.”

This makes him break out a chuckle.

“Wait, Paul!” you say before he could hang up.

“Yeah?”

You wait for a moment to ask, “Can I call you..Tonight?”

“Of course.” he says and hangs up.

You knew what you were going to make.

You come in with a bag and Alice jumps up with excitement.

“Do you want to see your place?” she asks.

“Yeah.” you say with a low energy smile. Edward stares at you.

You were grateful. It was a spacious apartment and you definitely had an entire free room to do all of your artwork. You turn and hug her tight with a smile.

“See? I knew you would love it!” she says. You chuckle a bit. You looked up as Alice unwrapped herself from you to see Edward with his hands in his pockets, looking at you and his sister.

“Okay. Let’s go. She has a project due in like two days.” Alice says to her brother.

“Do you mind..If I stay?” he asks you. Alice looks to you for an answer.

You got nervous, “Um….I work better…Alone. I never have people around me while I work. Ever.” you admit.

“That’s okay! Come on, Edward.” Alice says.

Edward takes his time to follow his sister out.

You let out a breath when you know they’re both out of the building.

You were happy you weren’t feeling so weak. You start to sketch out the idea before implanting the details.

You worked until darkness came. You munched on takeout as you called Paul from your bedroom.

He answers and you’re surprised.

“Hey, you.” you say.

He rubbed his eye as he says, “Hey.”

“Do you want to see what I’m making so far?” you ask.

“No, let me see it when you’re done.” he says and he squints a bit, “Where are you at?”

“My apartment. I got put up.” you say.

“Oh.” he says and you watch as his face falls.

“It’s not a yearly lease. It’s month to month. I can still leave when it comes down to it.”

He nods slowly as he looks down a bit, “But you won’t.”

You look to the side.

The silence was thick. You didn’t know what else to say to him. He just looked at your digital entity.

“Why did….Sam make you submit? What did you do?” you ask after some time of looking at each other.

He shrugs, “I was going to come get you my self.” he admits.

You didn’t know whether to be serious or laugh at the thought.

“I kind of…Wish you did.” you say quietly.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah….I feeling so horrible. Sick even. I felt like I was dying.” you admit.

“Was it the day you talk to Sam?” he asks. You nod.

“Hm..” he says.

“Why? Were you feeling like that too?” you ask.

“A bit. I just know I was more hostile than usual. Last night, as we were chasing the leech, I smacked right into Jared as she juked out of my reach.” he says.

“Oh.” you say you say a slight frown.

“Shit was crazy.” he says as he rubs his eyes again.

“I think I felt that.” you whispered.

“Felt what?”

You shake your head slightly as you start, “I remember being in so much pain. It felt like my body was smacked into something.”

“Are you serious?” he asks, looking more alert.

“Yeah.” you say.

“This is why you need to be home.” he says starting to bring the level of his voice up. You don’t say anything as you already knew what was holding you back from going home.

You instead, take him with you to throw your trash away.

In a way, he got a virtual tour of what your apartment looked like.

“There’s no way you paid for that.” he comments.

You set him on the counter as the trash is dumped into the kitchen garbage.

“I didn’t. I told you I got put up.” you say with a sly smile.

He was about to say something but he stops as he sighs as he says, “Alright. I gotta go. That was Sam.”

“Okay. Be safe…” you say in a somber.

“Always am.” he says.

You flop backwards on the bed as you are content. It was finished. The buzz at your door made you confused, you’re even more confused when the morning light is shining bright at you.

Looking at the same clothes that you’ve had on, the knocking hits your door again. You press the talk button with furrow eyebrows, “Yeah?”

“Are you ready? You have to get to the airport.” Edward says. You look at the project that sat strong and finished as you realized you didn’t even sleep.

You hide your gasp as you blink at the sky before admiting,“I didn’t wrap my art yet.” you say as you rub your eyes.

“I will have it wrapped and in the car before you’re even dressed but, you seriously have to go.” he says.

As you got dressed in your room. Edward greedily looked at what you made in the other room. He was careful but still quick to live up to his claim.

Your jaw was sore as you kept covering your yawn with your hand in the car. You wiped the stray tears that were collecting in your eyes from the yawning sessions.

Your mood was better, Paul called you before you had to leave. He praised what you made, he was genuinely blown away.

“Why didn’t you sleep?” Edward asks with a slight frown.

“How would I sleep in order to finish this?” you asked as you held the sturdy hard-sided container. His eyes flickered with a dash of excitement as he looked at it and you.

“It does look amazing.” he comments as he stared down at the covered work.

When you touched down, you were glad to be alone. Larry had someone pick you up from the airport and brought you to his house.

He introduced you to his girlfriend, who was also an artist.

You were relieved that you could be somewhat comfortable.

“I can’t wait to set this up.” he says as you unwraveled the protection around the piece. He had a glass box that was ready to for it to be placed in.

“It is beautiful.” she says with a smile and her hands together, “What inspired you?”

“Have you ever experienced heartache so bad, that you don’t want to be inside of your body anymore?” you ask her.

She couldn’t bring out an answer as she looked at it earnestly.

“Not like this, but it definitely makes me feel like I have before.” she says while nodding as she intently mused at the fiber art.

You stayed in the guesthouse. You didn’t know whether or not to feel bad, but you felt happy that the Cullens weren’t around. The weather was going to be sunny, Alice letting you know that she and Edward weren’t going to chance coming, she also seen no faulty events for the two days you were going to be gone. You were glad in a way because you had time to think.

You really were glad you finished because you didn’t know that Larry was having the gallery on the same day as you came. You sat in the car heading to his gallery in Beverly Hills. New wave of pieces were debuting tonight and you were nervous. You didn’t know if your stuff would hold up to the expectations of the other artists.

The lights were bright as you saw your piece set up, with your name showing everybody that you were responsible for the artistic decision.

People oo’ed and ahh’ed as they walked around, they asked you questions as they huddled around the art piece that you made. Most of them being high profile, you just breathed and chanted in your head to be yourself.

You tried your best to force a smile but you wanted a certain person to come. Pictures were taken and Larry looked proud as people gushed about what you made.

Things were dying down as people mingled and talked about what to do afterwards. You were looking down, staring off to space as you were thinking about heading back to the house.

“Did you get beat up or something?” a voice says to you that made your heart beat wildly.

You saw a pair of familiar shoes. You immediately look up to see the person who you wanted to see.

“Oh my god!” you say as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling you close to him. He sways you as you both didn’t care that people were looking. He grabbed your neck so you could look at his face and pulled you in with a kiss.

You didn’t care that you couldn’t breathe, he also didn’t care either. You both pull back and smile at each other.

He pressed his forehead to yours as you pant.

“How? How did you get here?”

“I ran here.” Paul says.

“Sam didn’t order you to stay away?” you ask in surprise.

“He didn’t say I couldn’t go to a gallery.” he says with a smirk.

Your arms were around him and you frown a bit, “You lost weight.”

“You did too.” he says with the same expression that you displayed on your face.

“I’ve been too stressed to eat.” you admit.

“Me too.” he admits as well.

“How did you bring clothes?” you whisper with a smirk.

“My wolf doesn’t have a big mouth for nothing.” he says and emits a happy laugh from you as you pull him in close to you and he then says in a somewhat annoyed but light voice, “Looks like someone wants you.”

You pull away and you look to see Larry standing there with a supportive grin.

“Oh, hey.” you say sheepishly as you forgot that you were in a public setting.

“Oh, I was waiting for you to get it all out.” He jokes as you look down with a smile. Paul puts a heavy arm around you shoulders and pull you close to his side.

“This is Paul. My boyfriend.” you introduced to him and Larry shook his hand and you had to look away to stop yourself from laughing because Paul had a strong grip on his hand.

“You have a talented one right here.” Larry comments before someone is now in his face speaking to him.

Paul steers you away from and you both walk around.

“So, where are you staying?” he asks in your ear.

“You won’t like it.” you say with a grin.

“Why?” he asks.

“At Larry’s guesthouse.” you say and you watch Paul’s face drop and you say, “He has a girlfriend.”

He gives you a look that screams, “Like that has stopped anyone before.”

You interlace your hand with his, “The bed is huge.” you whisper to him with a gentle smile and you watch as his mouth twitch before losing the battle of finally seeing his face soften up.

You feel your phone buzz and he feels it too. You pull out your phone as he watched you.

Alice.

He looks to you. He was expecting you to simply explain.

“Do you want me to answer?” you ask him.

“What are you going to do?” he asks seriously and plainly. He actually watches as you just answer under his arm.

“I can’t see your future! It’s gone black! Are you okay?!” Alice’s high trilled voice makes you squint and both you and Paul wince away from the phone.

“Yes. Yes, I’m okay.” you say with glee as you look at him. He’s then goes to grab your hand. He’s listening to everything that’s being said.

“I’m scared Y/N. Are you safe? Are you still at the gallery?” she asks.

“Yes. And yes. Don’t panic. Look, I have to go. It’s my turn to speak. I will call if anything happens.” you promise.

She’s not convinced but she agrees and hangs up.

You’re tugged by surprise and you look up to Paul peering down at you.

“When are you going to be done with right here?” he asks in genuine curiosity as he looks about for a bit.

“I literally don’t know.” you say as you couldn’t find Larry. You hear a chuckle that’s deep as you looked around and you look to the source.

Displaying a relaxed grin, “Aren’t you supposed to show me something?” His hands were firm around your waist. His gaze made you glad he was holding you up because you felt shaky.

You nod and he then brings you in close to his side. You slug next to him as you both stroll out of the door.

Larry was outside leaving himself.

“Are you coming to dinner with us?” he asks you after he got in a car. He leans over a bit as the car door was open.

“No-“

“Yes.”

You look at Paul.

He shrugs, “I’m hungry.”

Larry chuckles at this as he looks at his girlfriend who is also displays an amused smile.

A driver opens the door for you and Paul as you grab his hand and hop in the car with him.

He keeps a hand on your jaw as he worked his lips on yours, you fell under it like a spell as you were slumped again him, chasing his kisses. The driver following the car that’s in front. Your mouths told each other how much you missed each other.

Larry liked Paul. He found him to be quite charismatic and laid back. He had questions for you, however.

“How come you didn’t come to New York?” Larry asks Paul.

“I had work. I came here to surprise this one.” he answers and doesn’t take away the hand that was resting on your knee under the table.

“Have you thought of modeling or anything?” Larry’s girlfriend asks him, she took a good look at his face and Paul shakes his head, not really wanting to be in that scene.

“So, when is she able to come back home?” Paul asks and you look to him, surprised that he popped out with that question.

Larry chuckles quietly, “She can go home whenever she wants to. It’s just that when I need her here for business, she has to come. Sorry but, she’s the money maker.”

Paul looks to you and nods, he proceeded to ask the next question without taking his eyes off of yours, “So, when is she due back?”

“I have some meetings set up for next week. I’ll know the definite direction we are going to be moving in but uh..Yeah. Y/N, when the time is needed, you’ll be in New York right?”

“Yeah…I am…But, the thing is..” you say and look down with your heart racing, the table is quiet as they wait for your response, “Wouldn’t it just be easier to stay there instead being jet lagged all of the time?”

“Yeah. But, if you want to go home, you can. Hell, I’m back and forth from New York and LA so, it’s doable.” Larry encourages. Paul grins at this and rubs your knee.

Larry’s girlfriend got Larry’s attention and started talking to him about an offer that she received and that’s when they started talking in their own conversation.

“Don’t you leave tomorrow?” Paul asks you as fidget with a napkin on the table, you ate as much as you could before getting full.

You nod and you felt a warm hand on your back.

“I don’t want you to get in trouble with Sam.” you say quietly, worried about his consequence.

“There you go, worrying.” Paul says with a smirk.

“I’m serious.” you say in a quiet but captious tone at him. He doesn’t take it to heart but it doesn’t stop him from leaning in and asking in your ear, “What’s with you?”

“Nothing. Sorry. I’m just tired.” you say quietly. He’s not convinced but he lets it be the answer.

Larry’s girlfriend sees someone that she knows, gets up and gives them a hug. They move from the table and talk and catch up, happy to run into each other. Paul tells you that he has to use the bathroom. When he walks off, Larry takes a look at you.

You try to ignore it but he’s still looking at you.

“That guy, you were with at the symphony, he wasn’t your boyfriend?” Larry asks you quietly. You shake your head while saying no politely.

“He isn’t like your manager or anything?” he asks again.

“No. He..He was a friend of a friend.” you say.

“Oh...”

“What made you ask?” you ask with an amused look.

“It was the way that he handled everything, taking control over the situation. He was a bit intense.” he says as he thinks back and holds a defensive hand up before continuing, “Look, I’m not looking to get in your business but I’m getting in your buisness.” he comments before getting up and going to where his girlfriend was. His girlfriend’s friend opened her mouth into a happy gasp as she shook his hand and he carried the conversation like a casual stroll.

As soon as you and Paul came into the guesthouse, he stripped of his clothes.

“I mean, this place is huge.” he says as he’s in nothing but his boxers. You don’t say anything as you sit on the bed and look down.

“What’s wrong?” he asks as he stands in front of you.

“I’m too scared to come home.” you say lowly.

“Why?” he asks and you still don’t say anything.

“Because of the leech?” he asks again. You nod halfheartedly.

“When I leave here, I’m going back to the city.” you tell him. His face hardened.

“Now, it’s like you’re trying to piss me off.” he says.

“What?” you say dismissively as you don’t take what he’s saying seriously.

He throws you a look, not in an angry way but as if he’s thinking.

“It’s not because I don’t want to come home but, come on Paul, I’m scared.”

“And I have always protected you. I always have. Nothing bad has ever happened to you because I don’t let it.”

“Don’t say that now because what if something does happen?”

“I won’t let it happen.” he says in finality. You two hold each other’s gaze.

“I have to tell you something.” you say, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“What?” he encouraged.

“I don’t know if Old Quil has told you but, Alice Cullen can see the future of someone’s decision making and the real reason why I stayed was because I was supposed to come home from the airport with Bella. Alice told me that Emily and I’m guessing Kim as well had to be told not to go anywhere for safety which made me decide to call Bella to pick me up, I would’ve…”

“You would’ve what?” he asks flatly and he’s back close to you.

“I would’ve died or been…One of them. And it was because of the vampire that you and the pack have been trying to kill. I wouldn’t have even made it to La Push. ” you say.

He doesn’t say anything but he stared at you deeply. So deeply, that it almost made you uncomfortable.

“So…You lied to me.” he states.

“Is that what you got from this?” you say in frustration.

“Yeah…That’s exactly what I got from this…You lied to me and it took me to come to you to get the truth out of you. If I was still home, I would’ve still been thinking it was Larry who was making you stay here. Unbelievable.” he says as he shakes his head.

“What’s unbelievable is that you would’ve still told me to come home.”

“But, you don’t know that. You didn’t give me the option!” he says back to you.

“You don’t understand-“

“I don’t understand how if she told you this, don’t you think if let’s say, you told me this , mind you, we talked the night before you were supposed to leave. We would’ve strategized on following you, making sure she didn’t attack you.”

“I didn’t think about that.”

“You’re right. You didn’t.” he says with a grin but it wasn’t friendly at all.

He then nods after looking to the side a bit, “Is that where the Cullens are? Is that where they left off to?”

“What?”

He bends down a bit to meet your eye level as you look at him.

“Are the Cullens in New York?” he asks as he felt that he knew you heard what he asked the first time.

“Where is this coming from?” you ask and he laughs a bit without a trace of humor as he felt that he caught you.

“Just say it. The real reason you didn’t want to come home, was because the Cullens told you not to come home. I find it real suspicious how they left on the same day that you did.”

“They only warned me! Not told me! I didn’t know that they would come to where I was. I swear!” you say to him. He doesn’t say anything.

“I didn’t want to get turned or die. I would have rather for you to have been mad at me for not coming home than me becoming… one of them.” you say in a calm tone as you couldn’t look at him in the face.

He cupped your jaw with one hand, it’s not an aggressive grip, and makes you look up at him as he stared down at you.

“Do not lie to me. I don’t lie to you so don’t do it to me. Do you hear me?”

You nod.

“You’re coming home with me. Tomorrow. Right?” His fierce gaze burned your eyes.

It took you some time before you eventually nodded. After you did, your face starts to twist as you tried to hold back tears. Tears of fustration.

That’s when his face starts to soften up, “I mean it. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

You nod again as you take in a breath. When he lets go of your face, you rise up to a stand.

He takes his hand to the nape of your neck, his lips are now to your ear as you’re now close to him. You jerk a bit from the fluttery sensation of his lip’s touch on your ear.

He takes his hand to make you feel the front of him, his quiet groan vibrates in your ear that shot right to the lower pit of your stomach. Your breath began to become more shallow as he makes your hand pull his boxers down a bit, causing his boner to spring out at you.

That’s when the two sets of lips meet, you both sigh out in each other’s mouths as he makes you stroke him, his hips slowly flowing forward in your hand.

Your clothes fall onto the ground as if they were leaves. You lay back as he makes you spread your legs for him, taking your underwear off in the process. You forgot how to breathe a bit as you watched him lick your center as if you were the last source of water to a quenched man.

You held the back of his head as your eyes fall closed and you sigh out in a high octave as he worked his tongue in a lewd manner. He was loud with the noises he was making as he held your legs open, preventing you from closing them. Your hands meet the center of his hair as you arch back, whining out his name. You felt more sensitive than usual as you squirmed, it felt like it’s been so long. He felt like it’s been so long.

He watched as your hooded eyes looked down at him as he rubbed his flesh against your sensitive entrance, his hands caressed the perked up breasts that rose up and down from your breathing.

He guided himself in as he sunk in you and you both groaned. You reach out to him as you wanted to feel every inch of him.

He scooted you down until you were at the end of the bed, keeping you open as he worked his hips to meet yours. Your hands tried your best to grab whatever to catch a tight grip. Your legs were already shaking as he coos to you in a rasp.

He picks up the pace as he keeps moving into you. You shuddered as he takes a thumb to circle your nub and you came while groaning out his name.

You noticed he kept going, you gripped the sheets beside you in a tight grip as he drilled in you. He leans forward to press himself against you, you clutch onto this back, your nails making indentations. He didn’t mind as he groaned encouragingly in your ear, you close your eyes again as you whine from the second small orgasm coming.

Your mouth latch onto his neck as he circled his hips. You bit down gently without breaking skin and let go and he grunts out, “Do it again. Come on, do it again.” Your mouth latch back onto him and repeat the action. The thrusts however wouldn’t let you do for long.

You were out of your mind as lays an open mouth kisses on your ear, to your neck, before capturing your mouth. Your eyes were closed with your head to the side. You take in breaths as you then feel transfer the breaths into a high sigh, feeling firm and wetness sensations sleek in the center of your legs. You just had to look and you find the most lewd sight. You felt ashamed that you enjoyed the sight. He teased the entrance, you immediately want to know what it feels like, you missed him so much. One deep thrust had you cooing at him but he didn’t change the slow pace. He pulls out and you see the white coating around his still hardened erection. Your eyes widened a bit as he flipped you over, he sinks into you from behind.

You chant his name as he snapped his hips forward. He held onto you tight as he hooked his arm around you, bringing you up with him. He snaked his hand in front of you and rubbed your nub in circles. You placed one hand on his arm and one on his thigh as you belt out the noises of pleasure.

Your hips lurched as he could now easily pump himself out of you. The noise drove the both of you into a different high. His hand had a feel of the tender breasts that moved with his movements. He then slid it up to cover his now moaning mouth with your mouth. Tongues dart out at each other before the lips could glue onto each other.

He came, you flop forward as your body felt extremely tired.

The next morning was warm. That’s all you felt was warmth.

You didn’t want to get out of bed but, you knew that you had to. While Paul was sleeping, you slid out of bed to use the bathroom.

You were glad that your face didn’t look miserable as it did when you both had been separated.

You hear Paul’s voice call your name and you make your way into the room. He hands you your vibrating phone.

“Hello?”

“I’m in at the tennis court. We have to talk about something.” he says but it’s airy and you have a slight idea that it’s good news.

You look to Paul and he seemed to be fine with it.

“Sure. Thanks so much.”

You thank him again before hanging up. You hurry getting dressed. Paul was still naked under the changed blankets that he put on overnight while you were sleeping and you couldn’t help but to lean and kiss him goodbye. He tried to pull you down, even tugging at some of your clothes but, you were able to win by sliding his hands off and stepping back before his grips became more tighter.

Larry was bouncing the tennis ball and tossed it to you and you catch it with a smile. He was obviously happy about something. You eyed him carefully as he handed you a racket.

You both played a game, if it were a game, Larry winning most of the scores. As you get the ball that went over your side of the net, your eyes were taking in the lime greenness of the tennis ball.

“Your piece sold.”

Your smile was big. You turn around to face him and he matched it.

“Who bought it?” you ask in disbelief, it literally happened overnight.

“Come see. They left a number to call for you. Your money is in my office.”

The spacious room in his home felt like heaven as you waited with anticipation.

He let you sit in his chair as he dialed the number onto the phone and hands it to you. As the phone trilled in your ear, the white paper with numbers was sliding towards you in your peripheral vision.

“Hello?”

You swallow.

“Thank you for buying my piece.” you say to the voice.

“You’re welcome.” he says the laconic statement.

“Edward?” you ask.

“Yes?”

“Why did you buy it?” you ask as you took in shallow breaths.

His voice was calm as he bell out an answer, “It was simply extraordinary.”

You groaned softly to yourself with pursed lips.

“We definitely have to talk.” you tell him.

“Okay. I’m the one picking you up from the airport tonight.” he agrees.

“I’m not going back to New York.” you tell him.

“You’re staying in LA?” he asked in confusion.

“No. I’m going home.”

“Y/N, you can’t.” he says but it’s patient.

“I have to.” you say.

“Did Alice’s vision mean nothing? I can’t let anything happen to you.”

“Paul will make sure nothing happens to me. I can’t accept this. We’ll talk soon.” you say and hang up. You slump back in the chair.

“You can’t accept what?” Larry asks as he blows out his cigar smoke.

“This.” you say with your hands pointing down at the check.

“Why not?” Larry asks with a wry smile.

“There’s something attached to this. I know it. He’s didn’t buy it because he thought it was ‘extraordinary’.” you tell him.

He puts his cigar out.

“Well he bought it. He’s not going to be the only one buying your stuff. Last night so many people were asking me what was the next thing that you were making. People that would pay more.” he explains.

“Larry, you’re a guy,” you say as you play off of what he told you the previous night, “What if your girlfriend was in this position?”

“She has. Plenty of times. She knows how to play the game and leave her feelings out of it. Leave your feelings out of it. This is business. We’re here to make money.”

You walk back to the guest home and Paul was getting dressed when you came in. He pulled you to him in a kiss.

“We don’t have to leave until later on.” you say to him.

“Jared’s been calling. I think Sam knows.” he says. No words were said for a moment as his jacket is slid on, he didn’t bother bringing a shirt.

You walk over to the window and stare out of it in thought.

“What happened? Was it bad news?” Paul asks.

“No. Well…I don’t know….Edward Cullen bought my piece. For a lot of money. Larry’s ecstatic.” you reveal.

“Are you serious?” he asks.

“This puts me in a situation.”

“Don’t take that fucker’s money.”

You shrug in defeat as you look back at him.

“Larry represents me. He will lose out if I say no. But, Paul we wouldn’t have to face a struggle in our lives.” you say. He steps close as he looked down at you.

“We never struggled before so why would you think we would now? All money isn’t good money.” he says with disagreement.

“It’s a situation to where it’s a win win. If I’m able to pull in revenue for him, I make him hot for his business. I get his connections and more.” you say as you look down.

He huffs out with frustration.

“So what are you going to do?”

“I have to take it.” you say in a small voice.

“You don’t have to do anything. All you’ve wanted to do was make art. I feel like this is going to your head.”

“If I fuck this up, it’s going to make my name bad. Yes, I love art but it’s 90% business…Hell it’s probably more than that. At the end of the day, it’s whether or not I can make these people money. I helped him score. Do you know how much of my ass he’s going to kiss?” you reveal.

“Let me talk to him.”

“No.” you say in defeat but he pressed, “No, let me talk to him.”

You follow him out and you call out to him, “What are you doing?” you run and grab his arm. He turns around.

“Do you even know what you want?” he asks bluntly.

“I do! I want to be successful. I always told you that this is my life.” you say.

“I’m also apart of your life.” he states.

“I know. You are.” you say to agree with him.

“So, don’t you think you should incorporate me more? I’m always the last to know about things, you lie to me, it’s like you really don’t give a fuck about me at all. I feel like I’m the only one trying here and it’s not fair at all. You’re about to accept this leech’s money!” he says to you as you both now stand on the huge lawn.

You sigh and look down, “I’m sorry. I just want to do this right. Even before you, I dreamt many nights to be in this position in the first place.”

He grabs your face, “It will come. You don’t think many more people in the future will purchase from you? He’s not the only one. Get that through your head.”

“The man in the office is not thinking like that. I signed a contract agreeing to work business with him. He doesn’t know that Edward’s a…Vampire.” you say.

He shakes his head as he lets go of your face.

“I’m going home. If I don’t see you tonight, I will just know what it is.” he says and steps back.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask. He keeps stepping back before turning around. You follow him and roughly grab his arm, it of course make him turn around.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask him again, stabbing him with your eyes.

He raised a finger and tapped your temple gently but enough to make you blink a bit, “You’re a smart girl.” He takes a look at you before giving you a sneer.

You call his name but he doesn’t turn around, he continues walking.

Closing the door, you stomp to your room. Your phone buzzes, you ignore it. You didn’t want to talk to Alice right now. She didn’t seem to care. The phone continues to ring.

“Alice, I don’t want to talk.” you say feeling upset. You felt like you gained something but also lost something.

“We have to. I didn’t know Paul went to where you were. I seen Victoria follow the scent of a wolf and you have to leave. Now!”

“I can’t. My plane doesn’t leave until tonight.” you say as you felt scared all over again. Your stomach dropped as you rise up and peak out of the window.

“That’s okay. Just pack your things. Larry’s going to call you soon to let you travel on his jet.”

“Alice…” you say to her, “I have to go home. If I don’t, I lose Paul.” you say.

“Now’s really not the time to deal with relationship problems. This is your life we’re talking about here!” she says.

“Why did you let Edward buy my piece?” you question.

“What Edward wants to buy is his choice.” she says.

“Yes but, this caused a huge situation. I..I can’t accept it.”

“Y/N, do you really think you can tell the man who took an investment on you that you can’t accept the money that’s been thrown at you. Talk about blackball.” she says.

“I need to think Alice, I’ll call you back.” you tell her and hang up before she can talk you out of it.

You quickly call Jared and hope he answers. You make a small jump as he answers.

“Sorry I missed your call, I was dealing with something earlier.” you tell him.

“Yeah right. Ignoring my calls.” he jokes and you crack a smile.

“What do you want?” you ask him.

“I was just telling Paul to get his ass back here, I’ve been covering for him but Sam is not stupid.” he says.

“Yeah. He left.” you say and he picked up the tone in your voice.

“You alright?” he asks.

“No. I’m not at all.” you admit.

“You want to talk about it?” he asks.

“I just don’t know what to do Jared. Tonight I’m supposed to come home but, Alice Cullen, the one who can see people’s future, told me it’s still not safe. The vampire you all been tracking down is following Paul’s scent. I’m so in a sticky situation.” you say.

“Hm.. Shit… I’m not the best person to ask for advice from.” he says.

“It’s alright..Do you think one of the guys can pick me up? Or at least follow me home from the loose cold one?”

“Yeah…About that..There’s more than one.”

“What..”

“I had to sneak back here to call you and Paul but, Paul doesn’t even know.”

You put a hand on your forehead.

“Jared. Please tell Paul. Please let him know that I really care about him and he thinks I’m leaving him if I don’t come home.”

“I will tell him. This leech is teasing us. I chased her last night and Embry chased another one. Oh! Did Paul tell you about our new member Embry?”

“Yes he told me. What happened?” you say to rush him.

“Right, so Embry was chasing another one while I got reallly close to getting her. Embry told me before he finished off the leech, they kept screaming this name. Victoria. My guess is that they were with her. There’s probably more that we don’t know about. This shit gets deeper and deeper.” he says.

You don’t say anything as your head is in your head, feeling stressed out at the news.

“Hello? Are you still there?”

“Yes.” you say in a small voice.

“I gotta go. But, whatever happens, I know you will have good intent.” he says.

Alice told the truth when Larry invited you on his jet to ride. You looked out of the window as you sat in the sky, to look down to the sight below you. Your stomach fluttered with nervousness. You just really did hope you made the right choice.

#paul lahote #paul lahote x you #wolf pack #y/n imagines #y/n #fanfic #twilight saga #x y/n #paul lahote angst #angst fanfic #paul lahote smut #paul lahote x y/n #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote imagine #imprint

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haikyu-mp4 · 9 months ago

Text

In need of a manicure

word count; 2086 – gn!reader I think, nb! too much blushing

You’re a manager for Date Tech and have been watching over them since the start of the year. The most recent memorable addition to the team was Koganegawa, nicknamed by the third-years as the giant setter. He didn’t progress especially fast, but he had a strong will and nothing could fit better into the group of the iron wall.

After a training match with Karasuno, you noticed Koganegawa talking to Kageyama, the so-called genius setter, about taping up his nails and fingers. You’d already noticed the dark-haired boy fixing his nails between matches, keeping them clean-cut so he wouldn’t have to use tape. That awakened an idea, and you had your own conversation with Tobio a bit later for some tips.

That’s what led to you bringing a nail file to school the next day, quietly observing the team’s volleyball practice until they were finished. Now’s the time to initiate your plan. The boys were tired and sweaty, and you handed out their water bottles with a smile and ‘good job’ for each talented player. After they had cooled off a bit and were about to start cleaning up the gym, you tapped Koganegawa on the shoulder, waiting patiently for him to turn his attention around. As he turned to you, he straightened up with an immediate nervous reaction, as if you were some sergeant of the military.

“Hi, Kogane?” you started, heat rising to your ears at the attention. “Do you have a minute?”

“ANYTHING YOU NEED!” he responded loudly, even bowing. You weren’t that startled, already getting used to that kind of behaviour, but you waved your hand a bit to try and calm him down.

“Can I see your hands, please?” you asked, already looking down as he hesitantly put them up even if he repeated your request curiously. You could see some of the other players glancing at you two with a curiosity matching Koganegawa’s. “I asked Kageyama how he cares for his nails…” you somewhat mumbled, in the process of unwrapping the tape from the boy’s fingers while he looked at your touching hands with wide eyes. A warm blush was taking over his face, making him glance over his shoulder at his upperclassmen and then quickly back at you, almost afraid that the opportunity would just pass him by if he looked away.

“Because- uhh... because he doesn’t tape them?” he managed to ask, trying to breathe even if you were so close. You looked up at him, giving him a bright smile that almost melted him. The only person present who didn’t know about Kogane’s little crush on you seemed to be yourself, not noticing how a boy or two were hiding behind Aone so they could laugh in secret.

“Yes! I was thinking, maybe if we take care of your nails, you won’t keep hurting them. Sorry… I heard you tell him about that.” you said, relatively confidently at first before it turned into a mumble at the shy confession. Koganegawa almost teared up, bowing again.

“THANK YOU!” He didn’t get to say much more, as the other boys made dramatic comments about how lucky they were to have such a caring, beautiful manager. He wanted to say more, like how that was a really great idea, but he seemed to be stuck with the cute smile on his face. You just let their words brush off your shoulders, already fishing the nail file from your pocket and starting with his thumb. You held his hand in yours, the other one filing away carefully, avoiding the sore spots where the nails were already damaged. His hands were so strong that you imagined he wouldn’t need as much tape just for blocking.

“I’m sorry if I was a bit too straightforward.” You started excusing as you were about halfway, carefully dropping the hand you finished and looking up at his face, which wasn’t that easy when you were so close. These high school boys were so tall.

“Not at all! Well, yes.. but… I don’t mind,” he answered, finally finding his voice if only to make sure you didn’t excuse yourself for being especially nice. His eyes carefully gazed upon your face, especially focusing on the rosy tint of your cheeks. He hadn’t seen it so often because you were typically very comfortable around the team.

“Good!” You responded with a smile, but it trailed off into an awkward silence. You had expected Koganegawa to give you his other hand, so you waited until you realised you would have to pick it up yourself. “Almost done,” you mumbled as you did.

“Maybe I’ll be a better setter if I don’t need to have them taped up all the time,” he wondered under his breath, eyes now watching your connected hands again while you filed. You made sure there were no ridges or anything. That’s why it was taking so long! Not at all because holding his hand even like this was kind of nice.

“You’re progressing very well as a setter,” you answered automatically, knowing so from how you watched them. It was your job in the club, after all, to keep track. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself more than necessary just for a club,” you continued, chuckling to yourself at the thought of how Kogane made this into a contact sport within the team, tumbling into the other blockers when he got a bit too excited. His ambition and spirit were part of what drew you to him in the first place.

Kogane wondered if there was smoke in his lungs, feeling them tighten and then butterflies erupting at your kind words. “Th-thank you,” he said again. Most of the other guys had finished their own business of cleaning out the gym and were moving on to the locker room. Futakuchi might be mentally preparing something for Kogane to fix when he was done being pampered. Not out of jealousy or anything…

One week later, you’re sitting in your classroom with your friends. It’s lunch period and you’re all chatting away about this or that. There was some extra energy in you to finish this school day, knowing that you have volleyball practice after.

However, your attention suddenly diverts from your friend who is telling all of you about something she watched on TV, to a head of angry-bird hair quickly zooming past the windows out in the hallway. Only a second later, Koganegawa appeared in the doorway. His eyes looked around for a moment before finding yours and lighting up like a golden retriever. You sent him a small wave and your friends stopped talking abruptly as the tall setter walked towards you. “Hello!” He said, perhaps a little too loudly for the setting, but no one said anything about it.

“Kogane, what’s up?” You asked, a bit confused. It’s not that you minded, but you rarely communicated with the players outside of the club unless you passed each other in the hallway. The boy bowed to your friends and looked back at you.

“I was thinking, maybe we should do my nails before practice this time?” he said with emphasis on ‘before’ and looking quite determined.

You laughed, a kind of nervous yet happy reaction. It was short and light, but you couldn’t help but adore him. Kogane wasn’t sure how to feel, but he didn’t have much choice but to stare when you looked so gorgeous. “You’re right!” You finally said, leaning over your bag to fish out the nail file again and letting your friends go back to their conversation while you had your attention elsewhere. They already knew about your crush on the setter from how you spoke about him, even if you didn’t know yourself. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll do it in between finishing my lunch.”

Following this episode, some might say you paid even more attention to Kogane than before. He would come into your classroom at least once a week so you could fix up his nails, even going as far as adding nail polish which he really liked. Especially when yours matched. For volleyball practice, it seemed like he was turning to you every time he felt he did something right and it would always surprise him how you were already looking at him and sent him a thumbs up. The team was fed up, not seriously of course, but there was something disgusting about this whole young love thing. How you two would blush and stutter, awkwardly trying to spend more time together while also trying to not be too obvious in your approaches. They just had to do something.

So Futakuchi swept up beside you after one particular practice, leaning on your shoulder as if you were so much shorter than him. “Fancy joining some of us to go get food?” He asked as if it was the most charming offer ever.

You snorted a laugh and hummed for a moment as if considering, before shrugging his arm off you. “Sure.” You glanced over your shoulder at some of the other guys who were slowly emerging from the locker room. “Who’s going?” You asked, obviously curious about one person in particular, and the smirk on Futakuchi’s face made it obvious that he knew.

“Your favourite will be there.” He teased before winking and walking back to join the others.

When all of you got to the chosen fast-food restaurant, you were walking alongside your favourite setter in front of the others, not noticing anything around you as you discussed whatever odd topic came to mind. It was fun and you enjoyed talking to him outside of school or practice. Maybe you should do this more often. You were so distracted, in fact, that neither of you two noticed when all the others scrambled away and left you, giggling to themselves. Koganegawa was the one who finally looked around, about to ask Onagawa something.

You stopped as well, asking “Where the hell did the others go?” Koganegawa checked his phone, eyes widening at the message from Futakuchi in the team group chat that you managers weren’t in.

Say we had to leave and take your chance to hang out;)

So he looked at you, stuttering for a moment before explaining. “Futakuchi said they had to go.” It wasn’t a very convincing or fleshed-out explanation, but with the captain’s name involved you could only sigh and accept your fate. He wasn’t slick, to say the least.

“We can just order and leave if you want,” you suggested with that sweet smile of yours, looking up at the guy with somewhat hopeful eyes. At least he wished they were hopeful.

“I don’t mind hanging out,” he answered, sticking to the script he got. “If you want!” and so you both nodded and settled into comfortable conversation, spending the evening eating and learning more about each other outside of the court.

Next practice, the team was shocked to find out the two of you still weren’t admitting to your feelings for each other. Still blushing and giggling and trying not to be too obvious while everyone else watched on, dumbfounded.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Sakunami asked Koganegawa while they were getting dressed for practice, making him nervous just thinking about it.

“What if she says no,” he pouted. Futakuchi pinched between his eyebrows, putting a harsh hand on his underclassman’s shoulder.

“We promise you she won’t.”

So while you were handing out the water bottles, Kogane just asked.

“Y/n! Will you go out with me?” he yelled and closed his eyes, like not seeing your face would make the possible rejection better. You waited with rosy cheeks and that sweet smile of yours until he peeked one eye open.

“Yes.”

Years later, after high school had passed and you both tried to figure out your lives before settling into some jobs that might be permanent or might not be, you and your high school sweetheart decided this was a forever kind of thing. The two of you wanted to figure out all of life’s obstacles together, and Kogane got the assistance of his new teammates for a sweet and small proposal. Kyotani and Tsukishima were not exactly overly excited as they distracted you for an hour or two before leading you to the magical spot your boyfriend had picked out, where he was waiting with the brightest smile.

Let’s just say your fiance’s nails and yours looked exceptional in the engagement photos.

masterlist

/This is actually one of the first pieces I ever wrote for Haikyu, but I felt like it wasn't good enough to post

#haikyu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu #hq x reader #fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #hq #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyu fluff #koganegawa kanji #koganegawa x reader #date tech #dateko

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sgiandubh · 1 month ago

Note

In fact I have the impression that most fans in this fandom are never satisfied no matter how SC acts, they'll always find something to say. I remember how they behaved towards each other in the early days, and a lot of fans criticized SC for acting like kids and being unprofessional when they appeared at different events and I sometimes felt the same way about certain salacious things that were said to journalists and which they were also criticized for. When SC were very demonstrative with each other, fans criticized them for selling the show, and I even read comments from angry fans on their SM at the time asking them to stop behaving like that and that S wasn't respecting his co-star. Some people tend to forget that today they're no longer in their thirties, 11 years have passed, they've evolved, they've mellowed. S no longer acts like the young boy who fell under his co-star's spell, they've both moved on in their careers and in their private lives. Their goal, I think, is to go on in Hollywood and at least get some good job opportunities, and you don't need to have done advanced math to know that if you act like a kid on the red carpet, it doesn't look serious nor professional. In addition, many fans continue to say that if SC managed to represent Jamie and Claire so well it's because it's real. I'm sorry but SC and JC are two different couples. When S says he's not Jamie and when C says she's not Claire, it's true. Is C a doctor? Is S a fighter? Is S as traditional as Jamie? Are SC as co-dependent? I don't know if you've noticed, but SC have repeatedly pigeonholed this saying that JC are so fused that Claire would even tell Jamie when she went to the bathroom because he'd be worried. S, of course said recently that it's good to play scenes with other protagonists and not necessarily Claire, to which S joked and added : I need some space ok? For me JC's spotless love doesn't represent reality and unless I'm mistaken I don't think SC's daily life is all about living on love and fresh air. I agree with you, though, that there's been a certain distance between Jamie and Claire for a few seasons now so I don't know if it's because they've grown older and wiser, so they're not going to jump on each other like they did when they were young or if it's because the distance SC set up between them for the public is unconsciously transposed to JC . In any case, I think that SC, and maybe S more than C now, have set limits and that when they take part in promotions they remain professional and it's no longer Sam and Caitriona as a couple but Sam and Caitriona as co-stars. For me, fans need to stop mixing the two, also out of respect for the actors. I don't think it does them any favors to dissect their slightest behavior, and they're perfectly aware that every move they make will be observed and commented on, hence the distance S has put up with C publicly. Sorry for my long speech but when I read certain things, I think that some fans and mostly Anons need to stop throwing their own expectations and dreams of the ideal couple onto these two people (SC). On the other hand, SC have allowed some fans to find comfort in JC's love, and we can thank them for that.

Dear Long Speech Anon,

This is, indeed, very long and given my current circumstances, I had to read it twice in a row, in order to make sense of it.

I have to 1500% agree with you when you say two very important things:

'For me JC's spotless love doesn't represent reality and unless I'm mistaken I don't think SC's daily life is all about living on love and fresh air.'

With the amendment that JC's love is not exactly spotless, either. But that is Gabaldon's narrative choice, and as much as I detest her public persona (with a passion, can you tell?) she is queen on her page and of her own creatures. When she created them out of thin air, she assumed complete mastery over their destiny, even if any good writer will tell you that characters do have a life of their own - one of the most exciting mysteries of writing, indeed. Yet, it is ultimately up to the scribe to choose the words and to weave the story as they see fit. But yeah, SC not being a postcard couple is what makes them so damn endearing to me, in the first place, too.

'I think that some fans and mostly Anons need to stop throwing their own expectations and dreams of the ideal couple onto these two people (SC).'

You know, I really try to understand why this happens. There is so much tension and ugliness in this world, that you sometimes need a secret garden of sorts, don't you agree? It is harmless, it brings you solace & comfort, it's just that kind of daydreaming torpor your brain sometimes automatically switches on, in order to cope with hardship. Where I do see a problem, however, is going very vocal and public about it. And even more so, when people start to demand or believe they are owed at least an explanation (if not vindication), when These Two do not fit what definitely is to me a terrible, syrupy scenario.

#anon #fandom #shitshow

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kirammanswifey · 9 days ago

Text

《Bound by Darkness》

Silco

writer's note: i had so many emotions while writing this, it felt too personal. idon't support this kind of relationship in any way and i don't think is right at all, but i must accept that is a dynamic that it has too much to explore, and with silco's personality... it's just makes sense, whatever i hope u guys like it ittt. this little (pretty long) scenarios comes from my arcane imagines, i'll let the link down there for anyone is interested, also i'll be posting a story for each one of those scenarios for this week, tomorrow it's ekko's turn ;)

link:

warnings: smut, toe fetish, humiliation, voyeur and exhibitionist tendencies, toxic relationship, manipulation, silco's kinda a sugar daddy.

You walk slowly between the shadows and artificial lights of the gallery, feeling out of place amid the pretentious laughter and admiring murmurs of the guests. Your heels echo on the marble floor, a rhythm that seems more sincere than any conversation around you. You didn’t come here for the love of art; you came because someone invited you, promising "opportunities." But all you've found are overly sweet champagne glasses and abstract paintings that seem like an elaborate joke.

You stop in front of one particularly absurd piece: a huge red stain on a white canvas, accompanied by a plaque that describes it as "the existential suffering of modernity." You sigh, letting out a murmur you didn’t intend to share:

"Existential suffering? Looks more like someone spilled their expensive wine."

"A sharp observation," replies a deep, calculated voice from behind you. It’s so unexpected that you turn immediately, finding yourself face to face with a tall man dressed impeccably in a dark suit. His perfectly styled hair, piercing green eyes, and a scar crossing his face like a badge of a battle won. He doesn’t smile, but there’s something in his expression that seems... satisfied.

"And who are you? The unofficial art critic of the night?" you ask, crossing your arms as you look him over.

"Something like that," he responds, his voice low, almost intimate. "Though I must admit, I rarely find such accurate comments among these... crowds."

"Oh, really? Well, I wasn’t expecting to meet someone not dazzled by the 'existential suffering' of a stain."

He steps a little closer, barely invading your personal space. His presence is almost suffocating, as if he fills the room with an authority that doesn’t need to be proclaimed. "True art doesn’t need explanation," he says, looking at the painting with disdain. "Only the insecure try to justify it with words."

You laugh, a light chuckle that’s not entirely genuine. "Well, I guess we found something in common. Though I’m not sure that’s a good sign."

"That depends," he replies, his eyes fixed on you as though he’s already made an important decision. "What brought you here? You don’t seem like the type who frequents places like this."

"And you do, I suppose," you retort with a mocking smile. "Let me guess: you're a misunderstood art lover here to find inspiration."

For the first time, a smile, or something resembling it, crosses his face. "Close, but not quite. I’m here for business."

"How convenient. I’m here because someone promised me 'an enriching experience.' So far, all I’ve found are empty glasses and boring conversations."

His eyes gleam with something you can’t quite identify: curiosity, interest, maybe even amusement. "Maybe you’re looking in the wrong places."

"And you? Have you found what you were looking for?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he observes you in silence, as though weighing every word he could say. Finally, he replies, "Maybe."

The rest of the night passes in conversations that aren’t superficial but aren’t completely sincere either. You talk about ambition, about how power can be as addictive as it is dangerous. He listens with an intensity that makes you feel exposed, as if every word you say is a thread he’s willing to pull to unravel who you really are.

Eventually, you find yourself with a glass of wine in hand, in a quieter corner of the gallery. He’s beside you, his proximity intimidating, but not unpleasant. "What do you really do? Because you don’t seem like just another businessman," you finally ask.

"And you? What do you really do? Because you don’t seem like just a college student."

His answer leaves you speechless for a moment, but you don’t let him notice. "Touché. Though I must admit, my motives are much... simpler than yours. I need to pay for my university before everything goes to hell."

"Money?" he asks, with a curiosity that seems genuine. "Is that what you're after?"

"No, of course not," you reply with sarcasm. "I’m here for the art, like everyone else."

He lets out a low laugh, barely a sound, but enough to send a chill down your spine. "Maybe we can help each other," he says, his voice almost a whisper.

"Oh yeah? And what do you propose?" you ask, pretending to be uninterested, though the intensity of his gaze makes it hard to keep your composure.

"Simple. I cover your expenses... and you share your time with me."

The proposal is so direct that it leaves you breathless for a moment. You look into his eyes, searching for any sign of a joke, but all you find is seriousness. It’s a deal, a non-verbal contract loaded with implications that you both understand perfectly.

You thought about it for a few minutes. You hadn’t gone there on purpose, you had just gone as a novice artist looking for new opportunities. You wanted to make money through your work, not by being someone’s sex slave. But he wasn’t just anyone, he was different from anyone you had ever met before. He was an older, attractive, cultured man, just your type. In a moment, the proposition didn’t sound so intimidating anymore. Money was money and right now you desperately needed it, besides, you weren’t going to lose anything, on the contrary.

Finally, you smile, leaning in slightly towards him. "I hope you’re clear that my time isn’t cheap."

"Neither is mine," he replies, his tone firm, almost threatening.

The deal is sealed with a raised glass. You both know it’s not just company you’re exchanging; it’s something deeper, darker, and you’re both willing to play.

The night is humid and heavy as you walk toward the restaurant Silco had mentioned. You’d never heard of it before, which is enough to know it belongs to a category inaccessible to most people. The tinted windows and discreet facade offer no clues about what you’ll find inside, but somehow, it seems to fit perfectly with the image of the man who invited you.

As you enter, the air conditioning caresses your skin, and the scent of aged wine and expensive spices envelopes your senses. The place is nearly empty, just a few tables occupied by figures who seem as far removed from your world as Silco himself. He’s already there, seated in a corner with one leg crossed over the other, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His black suit and relaxed posture radiate absolute control, as if this were his domain and you were merely a guest in his world.

“You’re punctual,” he says without standing, his eyes scanning you with an intensity that makes you feel as though he’s dissecting you piece by piece.

“Were you expecting otherwise?” you reply, letting a playful smile tug at your lips as you take a seat across from him.

“No, but it’s always refreshing to confirm someone understands the value of time.”

The waiter appears almost immediately, discreet and efficient, as if he were an extension of Silco’s calculated atmosphere. Silco doesn’t look at the menu; he simply orders a bottle of wine that likely costs more than your monthly rent, then watches you, waiting.

“Are you always this… precise about everything?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you leaf through the menu, pretending to understand the names of the dishes.

“And are you always looking for answers to questions you already know?” he counters, his words as sharp as a blade.

You hold the menu in your hands, scanning the names of the dishes in French, Italian, and Japanese. You turn it over as if that might help decipher it. In the end, you settle for what seems like a safe choice: “I’ll have the beef carpaccio as a starter and… the lobster risotto as the main course? Assuming it doesn’t blow my budget, of course.”

Silco lets out a low, almost inaudible laugh. “Tonight, you have no budget. Order whatever you want.”

“I’m not used to someone giving me carte blanche,” you murmur, handing the menu to the waiter.

“Then consider tonight an exercise in expanding your horizons.”

The wine arrives shortly after, and as the waiter pours it, you notice how Silco examines every detail: the label on the bottle, the way the liquid flows into the glass, even the waiter’s movements as he steps back. You take a sip and find it surprisingly good, even to your unrefined palate.

“This is… interesting,” you comment, swirling the glass between your fingers.

“Interesting. A safe word,” he replies, leaning forward, his voice reduced to a conspiratorial whisper. “Tell me, is there anything you don’t approach with a layer of caution?”

“I’m not being cautious,” you say, though you both know it’s a lie.

“Of course you are,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours. “But I don’t blame you. It’s a quality many people underestimate.”

The first course arrives: beef carpaccio, thin slices of raw meat dressed with truffle oil, lemon, and a sprinkle of Parmesan. The aroma is as intoxicating as the wine.

“I have to admit, this is new to me,” you say as you pick up your fork and take a bite. The flavor is delicate but full of nuance.

“Fear of the unknown is a weakness,” Silco remarks, slicing a fine strip from his own dish, a foie gras that looks like something out of an art gallery. “Learning to master it is what separates the strong from the rest.”

“And what do you do when the unknown masters you?” you ask, holding his gaze with a hint of defiance.

“That never happens.”

The conversation drifts into broader topics as you share the main course. Your lobster risotto is creamy and perfectly seasoned, while Silco enjoys a wagyu steak paired with a black truffle purée. You talk about ambitions, the cost of success, the sacrifices power demands.

“Have you always known what you wanted?” you ask, leaning forward.

“Since I had the capacity to think for myself,” he replies dryly. “And you? Do you know?”

“More or less. I know what I don’t want, which is a good start, isn’t it?”

“It’s a start, yes,” he concedes, taking a sip of wine. “But the real question is: what are you willing to do to make sure you get it?”

“So many philosophical questions. You’re going to make me feel like I’m in a job interview,” you say, playing with the edge of your glass.

“Maybe you are,” he says, a shadow of a smile curving his lips.

Dessert arrives: a dark chocolate soufflé you share with him. The light texture and bitterness of the cocoa contrast with the sweetness of the dessert wine Silco ordered without even consulting you.

“I didn’t expect you to be the sharing type,” you comment, taking a spoonful.

“I’m not,” he replies, his tone dry. “But I can make exceptions… from time to time.”

When the waiter withdraws for the last time, Silco leans back in his seat, his eyes fixed on you with a burning intensity. “Tell me something,” he says, his voice low and deliberate. “How far are you willing to go for what you want?”

The question catches you off guard, but you don’t let it show. Instead, you hold his gaze, letting a slow, calculated smile spread across your lips. “As far as necessary.”

He nods, as if he expected that answer. “Good. Because the path you’ve chosen isn’t for the weak.”

“And you?” you ask, leaning closer. “How far are you willing to go?”

“I’m already there,” he replies without hesitation, his words carrying a weight you don’t need to fully understand to feel.

The tension between you has become almost unbearable, an invisible thread pulling you toward each other. You don’t know who makes the first move, but suddenly you’re closer to him, the edge of the table disappearing between you.

“This is a game, isn’t it?” you whisper, your lips barely a breath away from his.

“Everything is,” he replies before his lips meet yours.

The kiss is neither soft nor sweet; it’s a clash of wills, a battle for control that neither of you is willing to relinquish. His hand rests on your neck, firm but not aggressive, and the world around you fades, replaced by the intensity of this moment.

Hours later, you stand before a window in his penthouse, the city’s skyline stretching out like a sea of lights. He’s behind you, his presence as tangible as the cold glass beneath your fingers.

“This changes nothing,” you say, breaking the silence.

“Who said it should change anything?” he replies, his tone so calm it almost infuriates you.

You turn to face him, but his expression is unreadable, his face a mask of absolute control. “Just make sure you remember that,” you say, your words as much a challenge as a warning.

“I always do,” he responds, leaning closer with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

And though both of you know you’re playing a dangerous game, neither of you is willing to back down.

He circled around you, devouring you with his gaze. Silco's eyes roamed appreciatively over your curves, the red dress hugging your figure like a second skin. He stepped closer, the heat of his body radiating against your back as he pressed himself against you. His hand reached out, fingers tracing the delicate straps of your dress, toying with them.

"You look... exquisite," he murmured, voice low and smooth like velvet. He leaned in, nose brushing your ear, inhaling deeply. "Love the scent of you. It's intoxicating, just like you."

You almost moaned, but behaved yourself, you didn't wanted him to see you like an easy target. You were going play more, in the dirty meaning, of course.

His other hand rested on your hip, thumb rubbing slow circles through the thin fabric. You could already feel his hard cock against your ass, and it was so fucking magnetic. They way your body responding to his touch. It was almost magical.

Silco's lips curved into a smirk against your neck. "Tell me, my dear... are you wearing anything underneath this dress?" he purred, voice dripping with suggestion.

You smiled, mischievous. He had finally noticed. Although if we put it in a logical context, what was difficult was not to notice. You had chosen that dress especially for this night, it was your hunting dress. It accentuated your figure to perfection, leaving nothing to the imagination. So to tempt your prey you decided to put a hook, and that hook was something as simple as not wearing underwear.

"Why don't you guess?" You whispered, turning around to make eye contact with him. You would show him that you weren't easily intimidated. That he wasn't in the lead in this game of seduction.

His eyes darkened with lust and a hint of danger as they met yours. "Oh, I intend to," he replied, voice a low rumble.

In one swift, fluid motion, Silco spun you around and pinned you against the wall. His hands gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head as he pressed his body flush against yours. The hard lines of his suit-clad body molded to the soft curves of your dress. Was such a sight for sore eyes.

He leaned in, nose brushing the sensitive skin of you neck, inhaling deeply like a hungry man, a hungry man for you. "No lace," he murmured, voice a low rasp. "No silk. Nothing but bare, smooth skin..." His lips brushed the shell of your ear. "And this dress, just begging to be ripped off your delectable body."

One hand released its hold on your wrist to trail slowly down your side, fingers skimming over the red fabric. Silco's touch lingered on the hem of the dress. "Shall I find out if my guess is right, darling?" he breathed, teeth grazing your earlobe.

“I don’t know.” You arched your back like a tired cat, shamelessly rubbing your ass against his boner. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” There was a challenge in your tone of voice. It was clear and forceful, like your desire for him.

Silco's eyes flashed with hunger at your defiant words. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he slid a hand up your thigh, pushing the hem of your dress gradually higher.

His fingers brushed against the bare skin of your upper thigh, confirming his suspicions. "No panties," he murmured, voice a low rasp. He slid his hand higher, until his fingers grazed the apex of your thighs. "Just as I thought."

And you smiled at him like a total slut. Like you were proud of it. Like you were proud that you walked around and ate in a restaurant without underwear. Living out your fetish fantasy to the limit, and using him in the process. It was perfect in your twisted mind.

And then he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss, plundering your lips with his tongue. He bit at your ower lip, tugging it between his teeth, tempted to rip it apart.

Breaking the kiss, he leaned back to look at you, eyes dark and intense. "Such a naughty girl," he purred. "Teasing me like this. Walking around half-naked." His hand slid further up your thigh, fingers brushing against your bare, slick folds.

"I just wanted to surprise you. Didn't you like it?" You faked a pout, pretending to be hurt in a tender, almost childish way.

Silco chuckled darkly, amused by your bratty behavior. His thumb rubbed slow circles on your lower lip. "Oh, I like your surprise very much," he murmured. "A bit too much, perhaps."

He gripped your chin tighter, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. His eyes raked over your face, lingering on your pouty lips. "The problem is, my dear, surprises like this one have consequences."

To punctuate his point, Silco slid a finger inside your slick folds, feeling your warmth envelop him. A gasp escaped from deep within your throat. It was so unexpected that you had to hold on to his shoulders.

He pumped it slowly, teasingly, watching your reaction. "And the consequences of your surprises are always so... pleasurable."

His hand on your thigh slid up to grip your ass, squeezing the supple flesh. "I should punish you for being such a tease," he growled softly. "For walking around with this pretty little pussy bare and dripping, just begging to be filled."

Damn, why was he so good with words? And with his hands too, he had just one finger in your pussy and it was driving you crazy. The years of experience were evident.

Silco added another finger, pumping them faster, harder. You moaned loudly into his mouth and he couldn't help it. He crashed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, swallowing your weak gasp. He licked into your mouth, tongue delving deep to taste you. His fingers never stopped their relentless pace, bringing you closer to the edge.

You pulled away, agitated, to take a breath and regain the lead. You took his face in your hand and squeezed hard, with dominance. "Lucky for me, I do enjoy some punishments," You stuck out your tongue to slowly run it along his pronounced Adam's apple until you reached his lips and outlined them delicately with a lot of saliva in between.

Silco approved your actions with a growl. Although, he removed your hand from his face and took yours in return, switching positions. His thin fingers digging into the soft of your flesh.

"Mmm, you're playing with fire, little girl," he murmured, voice a low rasp. His eyes flashed dangerously, but there was a glimmer of admiration in their depths. "You're either very brave or very foolish, taunting me like this."

You didn't give a verbal response, but you did give a physical one. It was enough to just stare at him, blankly. You didn't look away, you didn't lower your eyes for even a second. You weren't going to give in.

He licked his lips. "And I do so love a challenge."

In a flash, Silco had spun you around and walked over to the expensive plush couch, but hadn’t sat down yet. He grabbed you by the hips, creating friction between the two of you. His hands slid down your back, gripping the straps of your dress.

"I'll give you the punishment you're craving," he purred darkly. "I'll fuck you so hard, so thoroughly, that you'll forget everything you know. All you'll remember is the feeling of my cock splitting you open, claiming you."

He leaned in, breath hot against your ear. "And I won't stop until your pretty little cunt is dripping with my cum, until my essence is leaking out of you with every step you take. Until everyone knows who you belong to."

With that, Silco ripped the straps of your dress down, exposing your breasts to the cool air. He latched onto one nipple, sucking and biting the sensitive bud as his hands groped and squeezed the newly exposed flesh.

“Yeah? Wouldn’t you rather see your cum on my feet?” You managed to say between labored breaths, your leg coming up and sliding over his. “Do you think I’m blind or stupid? I’ve noticed your particular interest in my feet ever since I met you. You even noticed today that I had a pedicure done and told me that the pastel blue color I had on from the day of the gallery looked better on me. You have a thing for feet. You’re a fucking pervert. Do you want to fuck my feet? Is that what you want, old man?” You were teasing him, oh, and you were having so much fun.

Silco’s eyes darkened with lust and a hint of anger at your provocation. He took your leg and lifted it up to touch your foot, luckily for both of you, you were pretty flexible so it wasn’t a problem. “Careful, little girl,” he growled. “Keep pushing me and I might just take you up on your offer.”

He leaned in closer, nose brushing against your ankle. "I've imagined bending you over and fucking your pretty little feet. Painting your toenails white with my cum. Marking you as mine in the most degrading ways possible."

His hand slid up your calf, squeezing the firm muscle. "But I want more than that. I want to ruin you completely. Shatter you into a million pieces and put you back together as my perfect little fuck toy."

Silco's voice was a low, dangerous rasp. He nipped at your Achilles tendon. "I want to fuck your every hole until you're a drooling, cock-drunk mess. Until the only thing you understand is the feeling of my dick pounding into you."

He licked a stripe up your sole, tongue swirling around your toes. "So keep taunting me, darling. Push me. Give me a reason to absolutely destroy you." His eyes flashed with sadistic promise. "I'll make all your dirty little fantasies come true. And so many more."

"Stop barking, and do it." You said, like an insolent brat. You finished taking off your dress, now all glorious and naked you sat on the couch, facing him. You raised your legs and showed him your feet in a very suggestive way. "Look at them. They're ready for you."

A wicked grin spreading across his face as he took in the sight of your naked body splayed out on his couch. You were offering to him in a golden plate, with feet and everything. His gaze lingered on your exposed pussy, already glistening with arousal.

He began to slowly removed his suit jacket. His shirt followed, buttons scattering across the floor. Your eyes roamed over his scarred, thin yet muscular chest, the sight of his physique sending a thrill through you. He was definitely a dangerous man with a even more dangerous past. And the scariest part was that you weren't even scared. Not even a little bit.

Silco knelt down in front of you, gripping your ankles. He brought your feet to his mouth, kissing along your arches reverently. "Such beautiful feet," he murmured. "So delicate. So perfect."

He licked between your toes, tongue delving between them, tickling you.

You were trying to stop yourself from laughing. It was so pathetic the way he was degrading himself for you. A powerful, billionaire man was drooling all over your feet like crazy. And all for feet. You had never understood that fetish. Feet weren’t attractive to you at all, they were just feet, and sometimes they smelled bad, and that definitely wasn’t a turn on. But in the end, who were you to judge?

Silco's tongue flicked out, licking a long stripe up your sole. He groaned at the taste of your skin, the texture of your soft feet against his tongue. He suckled on your toes, lips sealing around each one as he savored the flavor.

His hands slid up your calves, gripping your thighs possessively. "Wrap those pretty feet around my cock." he commanded roughly.

He freed his thick, hard length from the confines of his pants. The bulbous head was already leaking with arousal, a bead of precum dripping from the tip. Silco rubbed it teasingly along the arch of your foot, coating your skin with his essence.

"Warm it up for me, darling," he ordered darkly. "Get my cock nice and slick with your spit."

You didn't wait for him to tell you a second time, you got close enough and spat a considerable amount of saliva on his cock. "Come on, fuck them now. I know you crave them." You hummed, rubbing your fingers toes across his face.

With a feral growl, Silco gripped your ankles tightly and positioned the spit-slick head of his cock against the arch of your foot. He rubbed it along the soft skin, coating your foot thoroughly with your own saliva.

"Fuck, you're such a dirty little cock slut," he panted, voice heavy with arousal. "Desperate to have your feet defiled, to be used as a cheap fuck toy."

Cheap. That word hurt your pride. It was as if he was reminding you of your place and position. And indeed, he was.

With a sharp thrust of his hips, Silco forced the head of his cock past your toes, pushing into the tight, slick channel of your foot. He groaned at the exquisite sensation of your silky skin gripping his sensitive flesh.

Pumping his hips, Silco fucked your foot with slow, deliberate strokes. The wet, obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room as he used your eagerly offered appendage to pleasure himself.

"That's it, darling. Take my cock like the foot slut you are," he grunted, picking up the pace of his thrusts. "I'm going to fuck your pretty little feet until they're red and raw. Until you can't walk straight."

"You're really having fun there, old man!" You laughed openly at him, you couldn't help it. You needed to humiliate this powerful man. This man who had called you cheap.

Silco flashed a wicked grin at your teasing laughter, not slowing his frantic pace as he fucked your foot with desperate abandon. "Oh, you have no idea how much I'm enjoying this, you little minx," he growled. "I've wanted to ruin these perfect feet for so long. To claim them. To mark them as mine."

He brought your other foot to his mouth, sucking two of your toes deep inside. He licked and swirled his tongue around them, tasting her them again, before releasing them with a wet pop. "You taste divine, darling. Like sin and temptation wrapped in soft, delicate skin."

"How poetic," Your tongue was covered in sarcasm.

Silco's thrusts became more erratic, his heavy balls slapping against the heel of your foot with each desperate pump of his hips. "Keep laughing, darling. Keep taunting me. It only makes me want to use these feet even more."

He gripped your ankle tightly, pulling your foot further down his thick, pulsing shaft. The head of his cock pushed against the ball of your foot, leaking copious amounts of precum. With a final, brutal thrust, Silco buried himself balls-deep into the tight, slick channel of your foot. His cock throbbed and jerked as he found his release, thick ropes of hot cum erupting from the tip to coat your skin.

"Fuck." he roared, eyes squeezing shut in ecstasy.

You looked at your cum-covered feet with an indifferent grimace.

Silco's eyes flashed dangerously as he sensed your boredom. In seconds, he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back roughly. He dragged you across the polished marble floor of his penthouse, towards the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city.

You stumbled and bent over willingly as Silco positioned you onto the crystal of the window. Your naked body now on lewd display for any prying eyes that might look up from the streets below. The transparent windows offered no modesty, no privacy.

Panting harshly, Silco gripped himself and slapped his sensitive, spit-slick cock against your dripping slit. He was hard again. With one brutal thrust, he hilted himself inside you, burying his thick shaft to the balls in your tight, clutching heat. He groaned gutturally at the exquisite sensation.

Your eyes rolled back. Finally, some action.

"That's it, my little whore," he snarled, fingers twisting cruelly in your hair. "Take my cock like the desperate slut you are. I'm going to fuck you right here, where anyone can see what a dirty little cock sleeve you are for me."

Those words echoed through your mind and blew your brain cells off.

“Fuck, you’re lucky I took my pills. You didn’t even put on a fucking condom!” You moaned, taking his cock so well, your boobs grinding against the glass, creating a wonderful friction. Unintentionally, you looked up at the night view. It was wonderful. A paradise of lights and stars. From one second to the next your mind wandered to the possibility that someone was watching them right now, the walls of your pussy contracting at the thought.

Silco smirked cruelly at your breathless words, not slowing his punishing pace as he slammed into you again and again. The windows rattled with each powerful thrust, the night air chilling your sweat-slicked skin. "Lucky indeed," he growled.

He leaned over you, breath hot against your ear as he fucked you harder, deeper. "Imagine it, darling. Someone spotting us through the windows, seeing what a brazen slut you are for my cock. They'd watch as I ruin your tight little cunt, pumping you full of my seed. Watch as it leaks out of you, marking you as my property."

The picture Silco painted for you was too exciting, you had always had that fantasy. Of being watched or watching in sex. Which combined with your exhibitionist tendencies right now was making you lose your mind. Not to mention how well Silco's cock stretched you, it was as if it had been tailor made for you.

Silco's hand released your hair to grip your hip bruisingly, pulling you back onto his pistoning cock. "Maybe it's a group of my men, watching their boss claim his whore. Or perhaps a curious passerby, getting an eyeful of your slutty body bouncing on my dick. It doesn't matter. I want you to imagine them seeing you like this. A filthy little fuck toy, existing only for my pleasure."

He licked a stripe up you neck, tasting the salt of your sweat. "Now be a good girl and scream for me, darling. Let all of the city hear who you belong to. Who makes you feel this good."

And so you screamed. You couldn't takenit anymore. You came between sobbings and incoherent words, spams all over your body. It was magnificent.

Silco felt the way your pussy clenched around his cock as your orgasm crashed over. Your scream of ecstasy echoed through his penthouse, no doubt alerting his men and any curious onlookers outside to the carnal act taking place within.

The feeling of your velvet walls gripping him like a vice only spurred him closer to his own release. He leaned over you, hips grinding against your ass as he buried himself to the hilt inside your quivering cunt. With a guttural groan, Silco found his own peak, his cock pulsing and throbbing as thick ropes of cum painted your inner walls.

He rolled his hips, grinding against you, ensuring every last drop of his essence was seated deep within your fertile womb. Panting harshly, Silco collapsed against your back, pinning you beneath him. He nipped at your shoulder, voice a low rasp. "Such a good girl, milking my cock dry. I think you've earned a reward, my dear."

He reached down, fingers sliding through the mixture of their juices leaking from your fucked-out hole. Bringing his coated fingers to your lips, Silco rubbed them against your mouth. "Clean them off," he commanded. "Taste what a perfect little cumslut you are for me."

And you obeyed. And not because you had to, it was because you wanted to. You two were cut from the same rotten wood.

Silco's eyes darkened with sadistic satisfaction as you eagerly licked his fingers clean, savoring the tangy essence of their combined releases. He could feel your tongue swirling around each digit, lapping up every last drop.

"That's my good girl," he praised darkly, voice a low rumble. He kissed the back of your neck and sat down on the couch, taking out a small black box of imported Italian cigars from a table. He lit one and smoked it while looking at you intensely. Both of you naked and satisfied.

When the room finally falls silent again, filled only with the distant murmur of the city, you step away from the window, letting the night breeze brush your skin. Turning around, you notice something you hadn’t seen before: a collection of musical instruments carefully arranged in a corner of the room. A sleek black grand piano, an impeccably designed harp, and a violin that looks well-used yet lovingly cared for.

“Are you a musician?” you ask, picking up the violin with a mix of curiosity and admiration.

“I was,” he replies, his tone carrying a disinterest that doesn’t match the meticulousness of his collection. “A long time ago.”

Without another word, you position the violin on your shoulder, adjusting the bow with an almost automatic precision. Closing your eyes, you let the melody take shape in your mind before playing the first notes of Tartini’s The Devil’s Trill.

The music fills the room, each note cutting through the silence with an almost painful intensity. It’s both a challenge and a declaration, a metaphor that needs no explanation. You play with a ferocity that seems to pull something from your very soul, and though your eyes remain closed, you can feel Silco’s gaze on you, as heavy as a divine judgment.

When you finish, the bow still trembling slightly in your hands, you open your eyes to find him staring at you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a spark of something you’ve never seen before: awe.

“I didn’t know you could play,” he says after a long pause, his words soft but carrying the weight only he can convey.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you reply, carefully returning the violin to its place.

“That makes it all the more interesting,” he murmurs, leaning back into the couch as his eyes follow you with an intensity that seems to strip away every layer you try to keep intact.

Finally, he stands and approaches slowly. His shadow looms larger than it should in the dim room.

“Why that piece?” he asks, his tone calm but edged with something sharper.

“Don’t you know?” you reply, leaving the violin behind. “It’s a piece about ambition. About pacts and obsession.”

“Ah, yes. Giuseppe Tartini said he dreamed of the devil himself playing it. A composition born of the desire to possess the unattainable.” Silco tilts his head, his eyes gleaming with a perverse interest. “Ironic, isn’t it? Sometimes, the most ambitious dreams are the ones that destroy you.”

“I don’t think Tartini saw it that way,” you counter, crossing your arms. “He tried to recreate what he heard in that dream, but he never succeeded. He spent the rest of his life chasing a perfection that only existed in his mind.”

Silco smiles, that subtle, menacing curve of his lips that always leaves you on edge. “Exactly. Isn’t that the true nature of ambition? To chase what you can never have. It’s a curse... and a blessing.”

“And you? Have you chased something you can never have?” you ask, locking eyes with him, daring him to reveal even a sliver of vulnerability.

“I’m not interested in chasing impossibilities,” he replies, though something in his tone tells you he’s not being entirely truthful. “I prefer to negotiate. To make deals.”

“Like Tartini’s pact with the devil?” You let out a brief laugh, devoid of humor. “What happens when the price is too high?”

Silco steps closer, the distance between you reduced to a mere shadow. “There’s always a price, darling. The question is whether you’re willing to pay it.”

“And if I’m not?” you whisper, your words defiant but laced with a tension you can’t deny.

“Then someone else will pay it for you.” His voice is low, barely audible, but the implied threat wraps around the room like a shroud.

The silence that follows is heavy, laden with unspoken meaning. It feels as though the music you just played still echoes somewhere in the dark corners of the room, a reminder that this, this entire relationship, is a dangerous game.

“Do you know why I chose that piece?” you finally say, breaking the silence as you approach the violin again, your fingers trailing over its strings before pulling away. “Because it’s a metaphor.”

“For what, exactly?” he asks, though his tone suggests he already knows.

“For you,” you reply with an enigmatic smile, though your eyes are serious. “For us.”

“A pact with the devil?” His tone is mocking, but there’s something else beneath it, something you can’t quite place.

“A pact we both know we’ll lose,” you clarify. “But we keep playing the melody, over and over.”

Silco chuckles, that low, guttural sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “An interesting comparison. Though, I must say, I’m more curious to see how long the game lasts before one of us breaks the rules.”

“And when that happens,” you murmur, locking eyes with him, “who will pay the price?”

Silco doesn’t answer. Instead, he cups your chin, tilting your face toward him. “Perhaps both of us. Or perhaps neither.”

What happens next isn’t something you’d planned, but neither do you stop it. His mouth finds yours with an intensity that takes your breath away, a mix of possession and defiance that leaves you reeling.

Later, as you stand by the window with the city as a silent witness and the breeze caressing your skin, you realize this is everything he’d promised and more. It’s raw, it’s powerful, it’s inevitable.

And later still, as he sits on the couch with a glass of whiskey in hand, you pick up the violin again. Your fingers glide over the strings with a familiarity that feels ancient, as though this moment was always destined to happen.

As the first notes of The Devil’s Trill fill the air once more, Silco closes his eyes, but you can see the faintest hint of a smile. You don’t need words to understand what he’s thinking: that you are as dangerous as the melody you’re playing. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

The sound of the violin still seems to linger in the air of the room when you wake the next morning. The first rays of light filter through the vast windows of the penthouse, reflecting off the polished, minimalist surfaces around you. The city below pulses with frenetic energy, but here, at the summit of this luxurious haven, all is still. Silco is not in the bed, but that doesn’t surprise you.

You rise, wrapped in the soft fabric of a shirt that isn’t yours, and find a note on the bedside table. His handwriting is precise, almost artistic, and the words are brief, as always.

“Breakfast on the terrace. We have matters to discuss.”

Your heart beats a little faster, though you’re not sure if it’s from anticipation or the growing sense that you’re playing a game whose ending you can’t predict.

When you reach the terrace, you find him seated in one of the sleek chairs, a cup of black coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He is impeccably dressed, as if there isn’t a single moment in the day when he doesn’t have complete control over his appearance. The view of the city from here is dizzying, a constant reminder of the power he wields over the world he inhabits.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks without lifting his eyes from the newspaper.

“As well as someone who struck a deal with the devil last night,” you reply with a wry smile, taking a seat across from him.

Silco sets the newspaper aside, his eyes meeting yours with that intensity that always seems to disarm you.

“I hope you don’t regret it. Though, if you did, it would only make things more interesting.”

“I’m not one for regrets,” you say, lifting your chin. “What about you?”

“Only when the results fail to meet my expectations,” he answers, and you know it’s a warning disguised as a compliment.

Breakfast is a display of luxury: freshly baked croissants, exotic fruits you can barely identify, and a selection of cheeses and cured meats that seem straight out of a culinary catalog. He drinks coffee; you opt for a fresh juice that tastes as expensive as it looks.

“What’s the matter you wanted to discuss?” you ask, breaking the silence after a while.

Silco leans back in his chair, turning the coffee cup in his fingers.

“I’ve been considering the next phase of our… collaboration.”

“Collaboration? How professional that sounds,” you reply, arching an eyebrow.

“Everything in my life is professional,” he says with a half-smile. “Even the personal.”

“And what does this next phase entail?” you ask, trying not to show too much interest, though curiosity eats at you.

“There’s a gala next week, hosted by some strategic partners,” he explains. “I want you to come with me.”

“As your date?” you ask, knowing perfectly well what his answer will be but enjoying the game.

“More than that,” he responds, leaning toward you. “I want you to be my calling card.”

“And what’s in it for me?” you ask, resting your chin on your hand and looking at him with playful defiance.

“More than what you already have,” he says with a dangerous smile. “Your student loans, for example, could vanish with a single stroke of my pen.”

“That does sound tempting,” you admit, leaning closer to him. “But you know I never give anything without expecting something in return.”

“Of course,” he says, his tone cold as steel. “I wouldn’t be interested otherwise.”

The exchange feels like a chess match—every word carefully calculated, every gesture loaded with meaning. But beneath it all, you can sense something more: a tension, an attraction neither of you seems willing to ignore.

After breakfast, he invites you to explore more of his penthouse. Instead of heading straight to the bedroom, he leads you to a room you’d overlooked before. The door is thick and unassuming, but what lies beyond feels like a private museum.

“This is my personal collection,” he says, opening the door with a theatrical gesture.

You’re met with glass cases holding all manner of exotic objects: ceremonial daggers, tribal masks, ancient jewelry, and archaeological artifacts that look centuries old.

“Every one of these objects has a story,” he says, walking slowly among the cases. “And every story has a price.”

You stop in front of a mask carved from dark wood, adorned with gold and precious stones.

“Where’s this one from?” you ask.

“West Africa,” he answers. “It belonged to a shaman who, according to legend, could speak to the dead. He was executed by his own people when the voices began demanding sacrifices that were too great.”

“Macabre,” you say, but you can’t tear your gaze away from the mask.

“Power always is,” he says with a smile.

He shows you a ceremonial dagger, one of his most prized pieces.

“This dagger was used in a ritual that ended with the fall of an empire,” he says, turning it so you can see how the metal catches the light.

“How do you get these things?” you ask, admiring the detail of the hilt.

“Money,” he answers simply. “And the willingness to cross lines others wouldn’t dare.”

The next stop is his library, an impressive space filled with shelves that reach the ceiling, packed with books whose spines are worn and titles written in languages you don’t recognize.

“Some of these books are centuries old,” he says, running his fingers over the spines as if they were old friends. “Philosophy, history, the occult… everything you need to understand the world and manipulate it.”

“Manipulate it?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Knowledge is power,” he says, looking at you with that intensity that always seems to disarm you. “And power is the only currency that truly matters.”

Finally, he takes you to the bedroom. But instead of diving straight into intimacy, the evening takes an unexpected turn when he leads you to the massive bathtub occupying the most privileged corner of the penthouse.

The water is filled with bubbles, the temperature perfect. Both of you are naked, enjoying the feel of the hot water against your skin as the city lights twinkle through the floor-to-ceiling windows. On a floating tray rests a bowl of perfect grapes and a bottle of the most expensive champagne you’ve ever tasted.

“Do you always live like this?” you ask, taking a grape and bringing it to your lips.

“Not always,” he replies, holding his champagne glass with an air of nonchalance. “But I make an effort to enjoy the pleasures the world has to offer.”

“Makes sense,” you say, leaning back to gaze at the night sky through the glass. “Though I wonder if you actually enjoy anything, or if all this is just a distraction.”

He smiles, a smile full of secrets.

“You’re perceptive. Perhaps too much.”

The conversation moves between banter, innuendos, and dangerous truths as the glasses empty and the grapes disappear. The atmosphere is charged but also unusually calm, as if you’re both in a momentary truce in your endless game of power.

For a brief moment, the world seems to stand still, and though you both know this is just another stage in a larger game, neither of you is willing to break the spell.

Night falls over the city like a dark veil, illuminated only by the flickering lights of the skyscrapers and the distant, pale moon. Silco’s penthouse is a refuge of luxury, distinction, and coldness, but tonight, something else flickers in his eyes. The invitation to the opera is his way of showcasing what he possesses, of showing the world what belongs to him. And you, though you don’t entirely understand it yet, know that being part of this spectacle is more than just a simple evening out.

You stand before the full-length mirror in the room, dressing carefully, aware of what awaits you. The dress is black, hugging your figure, with lace details that caress your skin with a touch of restrained sensuality. The fabric flows to the floor, offering only the slightest glimpse of your heels. The delicate neckline strikes the perfect balance between provocative and elegant, while the long, sheer sleeves add a hint of mystery, as if something lies hidden beneath. Your hair cascades in loose waves over your shoulders, dark and gleaming under the dim light.

Your makeup highlights your features: eyes deeply lined, lips a crimson shade that contrasts with your pale skin. You look like a masterpiece, a muse that Silco has no fear of displaying as his own. And though part of that unsettles you, you also feel powerful, irresistible. The image you project is not just that of an attractive woman but of someone who knows exactly what she’s doing, someone who plays with shadows as much as with light.

When you step into the living room, Silco is waiting for you, standing by a window that offers an impressive view of the city. His gaze lands on you immediately, like a predator spotting its prey. He says nothing, just watches you, as if conducting a meticulous examination, a silent evaluation. For a moment, the air seems to still. It’s a mix of admiration and something darker, indefinable, but undeniably present.

"Stunning," he murmurs, barely audible, before offering his arm for you to take.

The limo that picks you up is luxurious, its interior upholstered in black leather with gold accents that shimmer under the soft lighting. Silco remains silent, but there’s something different about his demeanor. His body is tense, as if anticipating something—or someone—to breach his domain. The ride to the opera feels long, though words are unnecessary. The tension between you rises, like the air is charged with electricity.

When you arrive, the building is an architectural jewel, imposing, made of marble and glass. The lobby is grand, with towering columns reaching for the ceiling, adorned with frescoes and floating chandeliers. The opera, the season’s most anticipated event, is in full swing, and you’re the center of attention—but not in the way you expected. As you make your way to the private box, the eyes of the men can’t help but follow you. Discreetly, but you notice—the glimmer of interest in their gazes, the latent desire to approach you, to speak to you.

Silco notices too.

"Interesting, isn’t it?" he says in a low voice, barely audible amid the orchestra’s first notes. "How some men feel so comfortable admiring what doesn’t belong to them."

He turns you to face him, his face impassive but his expression betraying restrained jealousy. The way his eyes trace over you, how his hand rests lightly on your back like an invisible brand, reminds you of the true meaning of this invitation. It’s a reminder: you’re here with him. But also a warning of what might happen should anyone cross the boundaries he has silently set.

"Isn’t it beautiful?" you ask, your voice tinged with genuine fascination as you gaze at the stage. The soprano, bathed in golden light, sings an aria with such intensity that the air seems to vibrate. But your words aren’t just for him; they’re for yourself, for the magnificence of this place that makes you feel both small and immense at once.

"It’s a spectacle," Silco replies coldly, "but nothing compared to the beauty you’ve brought to this room."

You turn to him, offering a slight smile, playing with the idea of provoking a reaction. But Silco isn’t someone easily manipulated. And as the performance continues, you realize what bothers him most isn’t the opera or the perfection of the event. It’s the fact that others dare to look at you, even indirectly, in ways only he believes he has the right to.

Suddenly, as if the opera’s atmosphere weren’t stifling enough, you decide to break the ice and venture into less superficial territory, something more intellectual.

"It’s curious how opera can be so... disturbing," you begin, casting a critical look toward the soprano who seems to sing not just with her voice but with every fiber of her being, projecting an emotion so intense it hurts. "The passion conveyed in every note—it’s not just technique. It’s raw. Visceral."

Silco studies you for a moment, intrigued by your ability to see beyond the surface. "Visceral?" he repeats, a faint smile playing on his lips. "What we’re witnessing is the distortion of human emotion taken to its limit. Artists like her don’t sing for us. They do it for themselves. To confront their own suffering and turn it into something consumable."

"Perhaps," you reply, analyzing the glint in his eyes, "but I can’t help thinking all that suffering has a darker purpose. Sometimes, the rawest emotions are the most genuine. But do we really seek to understand them, or just consume them?"

Your serene yet thoughtful tone immediately captures his attention. Silco leans back slightly in his seat, his eyes fixed on you as the orchestra carries on, though his mind seems ensnared by your words.

"It’s a reflection of human fragility," he finally says, as if speaking more to himself than to you. "Pain, despair. People pay to witness that vulnerability because we’ve distanced ourselves so much from the genuine that we find solace only in reminders of our worst selves."

Your gaze softens, acknowledging the depth of his words without letting them disarm you. You know what Silco is insinuating: his fascination with human darkness, with imperfection.

"And don’t you think all of that is present in us? In what we do, in what we seek..." you say with a faint, ironic smile. "Or do you believe we can escape our own need for destruction?"

Silco stiffens slightly, the atmosphere between you growing even more charged, almost oppressive. "There is no escape," he responds, his tone grave and piercing. "Only acceptance."

"And I accept what I am," you say, holding his gaze, a challenge in your eyes.

A tense pause stretches between you as the soprano’s voice continues to hang in the air. Silco watches you intensely, a mix of respect and dangerous possession in his gaze. "Perhaps you’re right," he murmurs, his voice low, almost a whisper, as he fixes you with a look that burns more than it illuminates. "Perhaps you accept more than you’re willing to admit."

The opera comes to an end, and while the crowd bursts into fervent applause, for the two of you, everything else fades away. In this space between shadows, the words you’ve shared become a tension even more palpable, a line that cannot be crossed without consequences. The opera’s beauty, with its raw passion, becomes a reflection of what binds you together—and, at the same time, what sets you apart.

Outside, under the starlit sky, the air is fresh and clean. Silco escorts you back to the car, and during the ride home, the silence is heavy, filled with unspoken thoughts.

When you reach the penthouse, the tension that’s been building all night finally erupts. The door closes behind you, and immediately, without words, he turns you toward him, taking your face in his hands, his grip firm. But the look in his eyes is something entirely different. It’s possessive, urgent, as if he’s claiming something he always knew was his, though you’ve never fully given it to him.

"I don’t like when they look at you," he whispers, his lips close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I don’t like when you seek their attention."

It’s a dangerous game, and in that moment, you know you’re trapped. There’s no escape, no alternative. The passion between you morphs into something darker, more controlled, and at the same time, more intense. As if everything he does, everything he gives, is part of a way to mark you, to ensure there’s no doubt in your mind about what you truly are to him.

Before you can react, his lips claim yours in a deep, possessive kiss, and the world outside that room fades away. All that matters now is what’s in front of you. Silco. And the power he holds over you.

The sea stretches out before you like an endless canvas, as vast and deep as the emotions Silco stirs within you. The ocean breeze caresses your skin, carrying away the heavy thoughts you’ve been burdened with over the past week. In this space, everything seems clearer. Yet, despite the stunning scenery, an undercurrent of tension lingers in the air, impossible to ignore.

Your birthday has arrived, and Silco has planned something special, something you never expected. This time, there’s no shadowy gala or opulent halls. Instead, you find yourself in a secluded paradise—a hidden corner of the sea where the elite rarely tread. You’re aboard a private yacht gliding over turquoise waters, far from the city you’ve always known, but close to what is inevitable: Silco.

You’ve dressed more simply than usual, in a flowing white dress that drapes softly over your figure, and a straw hat that partially shields your face, giving you an air of mystery, almost ethereal. The sun beats down mercilessly over the ocean, but the warmth of the daylight is tempered by the cool breeze sweeping over the water. Yet, despite the relaxing atmosphere, the silence between you and Silco carries a weight that’s impossible to ignore.

The yacht is a spectacle of luxury: polished wooden decks, a lounge with glass windows offering panoramic views of the ocean, and a bar that looks like something out of a high-society film. It’s elegant, comfortable, and perfectly isolated—a microcosm where the outside world ceases to exist. And yet, you know you’re not here just to enjoy paradise. Silco watches you, seated in a chair by the railing, his gaze steady, analytical, calculating. Somehow, you know this trip isn’t solely a gift for you.

“This place is perfect, isn’t it?” he says in a calm voice, almost a whisper, as he takes a sip from the wine glass in his hand. “A place where you can think without distractions.”

You look at him, unsure if he’s actually asking you or simply sharing his thoughts. The sunlight casts a special glow over his face, highlighting his sharp features and the piercing gaze that tracks your every movement. The yacht glides further into the water, each passing mile pulling you further away from everything you know.

“It’s beautiful,” you finally reply, but the air remains thick with unspoken tension. “Why here? Why today?”

Silco observes you with a small smile, something he rarely shows. It’s not a smile of contentment but of control, of possession. As if this place, this moment, everything, was orchestrated for you but also for him. And that unsettles you in a strange way.

“It’s your birthday,” he replies, his tone soft but firm. “And while I don’t care for pompous celebrations, I wanted you to have something special. A place where neither of us has to worry about anything but being here.”

You search his eyes for some clue, something to tell you that this is genuine. But you find nothing. Silco has no intention of making things easy for you, and you know it well. Despite the idyllic setting, there’s a palpable distance between the two of you, like an invisible field neither dares to cross.

Shortly after, lunch arrives. A feast prepared for two: fresh lobster, tuna sushi, and an endless selection of wines. The scent of the sea mingles with the aroma of the food, and the sun casts everything in a perfect golden light. But as Silco serves you, his eyes betray something more—something you’ve come to know well: a subtle control over your every action, as though each gesture is part of a scene he meticulously arranged for you.

“Do you like it?” he asks, watching your face as you take a bite. His tone is almost condescending, as though he’s assessing your reaction.

“It’s delicious,” you reply, but the taste is overshadowed by the pressure you feel being here with him. The sun shines too brightly, but his eyes are even more intense, always watchful, always calculating.

“All of this is for you, but it’s also for me,” he says, almost muttering to himself. “It’s easy to give gifts; the hard part is knowing how to thank someone for what they give you. But you’ll see—everything comes with a price.”

Your stomach churns at his words. Despite the dazzling view, the weight of what he’s just said hits harder than the heat of the sun. Silco has gifted you a perfect day, but the price of that perfection is something you can’t help but wonder about. What does he truly want from you? What else is he expecting?

After the meal, Silco approaches you, his gaze never less than piercing, scrutinizing every inch of you. There’s something in the way he looks at you that makes everything once serene feel more complicated, denser. He hands you a small package, his smile teetering on the edge of irony.

“A gift, though you may not be sure you want it,” he says with a low chuckle. “I’ve observed you, and I know what you like. You know I enjoy giving you what belongs to you.”

You open the package carefully, finding inside a diamond necklace—an intricate design that almost seems alive, as though each stone was placed with specific intent. You hold it in your hands, admiring its perfection but also feeling a growing pressure in your chest. The price of this gift isn’t just monetary—it’s emotional.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, feeling the weight of every word you say and the discomfort rising within you. The necklace is the final touch to a stage where you already feel trapped.

“Yes, it is,” Silco responds, his tone almost intimate, as though he knows what it truly means to you. “But don’t forget—everything I do has a purpose. Nothing comes without a price.”

Those words land like a blow. You know this isn’t just a necklace he’s given you but a reminder of his power over you, of what he expects from you. He isn’t merely offering you something beautiful—he’s offering an unspoken contract where you are the one who must pay.

The afternoon drifts by as the yacht continues to float aimlessly in the turquoise waters. The sun begins to set on the horizon, painting everything in shades of orange and gold. Silco never stops watching you, as though measuring you, waiting for something within you to react, for something to break. But you remain there in silence, wondering just how far you’ve fallen into his web, just how deeply you’ve allowed his influence to seep under your skin.

As night falls and the sky darkens, Silco moves closer to you, his presence firm and assured. His arm wraps around your waist with a possessiveness you cannot ignore.

“This is a birthday you’ll never forget,” he murmurs near your ear, the implicit promise in his words more terrifying than any celebration. “No matter how many gifts I give you, don’t forget—you’ll always be mine.”

The sound of the water lapping against the yacht, the whisper of the wind—all of it fades as his words echo in your mind. You cannot escape his control, not while you continue accepting his gifts. And deep down, you know you’re already too far gone.

Four months. Four long months since you entered Silco's world. Everything you knew before seems to have vanished. You live with him, in his house, in his space, isolated from your friends, from your family. Everything has changed, and although a part of you knows things weren’t healthy from the beginning, you’ve grown accustomed to this new reality. You’ve become his shadow, his silent company, an ornament accompanying him in his business and his life, without truly being part of anything.

University is the only thing you have left outside his sphere. You only leave to attend classes, as just another obligation. The campus feels like a distant world, and interactions with your classmates are limited to class meetings, while the other students dive into their own lives. You’re just there, doing what’s expected of you, like an automaton. After classes, you quickly return to the penthouse, as if it were a refuge, though deep down you know it’s more of a prison than a home.

Your friends no longer call, your family barely hears from you. And you… you’ve forgotten how to be yourself. Conversations that once felt light now seem distant, as if they were memories from another life. You’re trapped in a cycle with Silco that you don’t know how to break. Everything you do, everything you are now, revolves around him. The arguments, the fights, the manipulations—it all feels like a whirlwind, a maze with no exit.

Tonight feels different. Something in the air is heavy, a tension you can’t ignore. Silco arrives late, his face hardened by business, by stress. You watch him from the couch, the dim light of the lamp illuminating his figure. You know something is about to erupt. The question is, will you be able to endure it?

He approaches, watching you for a moment, his gaze piercing as always. "Where have you been?" he asks, his tone low, almost uncomfortable, but there’s something more there. It’s not a simple question—it’s an accusation disguised as curiosity.

You rise slowly, feeling the weight of his gaze. "I’ve been here, waiting, as always. Doing what you asked of me," you reply, your voice already laced with the frustration you’ve been repressing.

He studies you, his expression unreadable. "Waiting… for what exactly?" The question is provocative, but also charged with a power you can’t ignore. You feel as if you’re standing on a battlefield, unsure if the war is already lost or if there’s still something left to defend.

"I don’t know what you expect from me," you say through clenched teeth, your hands balled into fists at your sides. "Everything I do, everything I am, revolves around you. I don’t know if you like that or if it disgusts you, but I’m tired of you treating me like I’m just an extension of yourself."

The response comes faster than you expect, his voice turning colder. "I’m not treating you as an extension of myself," he says, every word sharp as a blade. "I’m showing you reality. I’m the only thing keeping you here, the only thing giving you purpose."

The words hit you like a whip. They hurt more than you’d like to admit because, deep down, you know there’s some truth to them. "And what am I to you, then?" you ask, your voice breaking slightly despite yourself. "Just another tool? A piece of flesh to satisfy your needs?"

Silco smiles bitterly, a gesture he rarely shows. "Isn’t that what you are, dear? In this world, we’re all tools. The difference is that some of us hold more power than others. And you, without me, are nothing. I’ve given you everything you have; everything you are now is thanks to me."

The air grows heavier, and your hands begin to tremble, but you try to keep calm. The venom in his words wounds you, but not enough to make you crumble. "I don’t need you to remind me. But what you don’t understand, Silco, is that this isn’t what I want. This isn’t who I want to be."

He takes a step closer, his figure darkening the room. "Then what do you want? To run away from all of this? To live a life of lies, like the others? With your friends, with your illusions? That won’t give you what you really need. You know that. Everything I offer you is the truth, without embellishments."

"The truth?" you repeat, struggling to contain the rage boiling inside you. "The truth is you’re suffocating me. You’re manipulating me, dragging me further and further into your world. What you’re giving me isn’t truth—it’s your version of what the truth should be, your control. And I’m tired of being part of it."

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you wonder if it’s really possible to escape all of this. Silco pauses, his gaze no longer as intense, but his words still cut deep. "You know you can’t escape this, don’t you?" he says softly, as if he knows something you haven’t yet accepted. "You can’t live without me. You have nowhere to go."

The anger begins to bubble over, and it’s as if all the repressed energy explodes at once. "Of course I can! I can leave! I can… I can go and never come back." Your voice trembles, but the decision is clear.

Silco’s laugh echoes through the room, bitter and cold. "And what would you do out there? Where would you go? The world around you has no place for someone like you. Without me, you’re nothing. And you know it."

A heavy silence fills the air as you both stare at each other, weighing every word, every gesture. "I am nothing without you," you say finally, your voice barely a whisper. "But that doesn’t mean I can’t find myself. That doesn’t mean I have to keep being part of your game."

Silco remains silent, watching you as if he’s evaluating something in your words. His expression is hard to read, but for the first time, there’s something in his eyes you can’t identify—something that looks like doubt.

"If you leave, there’s no coming back," he says in a low voice, an implicit threat in his words. "There will be no place for you in my world, and you know it."

And in that moment, something inside you clicks. The decision is made. It no longer matters what he says. "I know," you respond firmly, your heart pounding. "I know. But I’m leaving."

You turn and begin walking towards the door. Silco does nothing, doesn’t move, doesn’t stop you. But his gaze follows you, weighing on you, one last attempt at control.

As you step through the door, the sound of your heels echoing in the hallway is your only companion. The cool night air greets you, and for the first time in a long time, you feel free. At least for a moment, you can breathe.

Thirty long days have passed since you left his side. A month. Thirty days of loneliness, abandonment, and anguish. Broken promises crash against your chest like an echo, and the constant pressure of an uncertain future devours you from within. You try to survive, but each day becomes harder.

Your university life, once your salvation, is now just a chain tying you to a routine that slowly consumes you. You can’t pay your rent. The overdue payments loom like a black shadow, threatening to swallow you whole. The people who once stood by your side now turn their backs on you. Friends, so conventional, so distant, can’t understand what you’ve lost. Your family doesn’t even try. They’ve rejected you, abandoned you. And amidst all this, your studies remain a distant beacon, an unattainable dream you can barely cling to.

You tried finding a job, but you lost everything as quickly as it came. The university demands more of you, and all you have to offer is the anguish of knowing your world is collapsing while they move forward, oblivious to the darkness consuming you. The days stretch endlessly, and the nights become unbearable. Sadness courses through your veins like a dark current, but nothing, nothing hurts more than his absence. The void Silco left is an open wound that cannot heal. The luxurious life you shared with him, the brilliance of his world—you miss it. The darkness within him, that sense of belonging found only in the depths of wickedness, you miss that too. That is the price you pay for leaving.

One day, without thinking, without knowing what drives you, you decide to return. You don’t care if he rejects or humiliates you. The only thing you know is that you can’t go on without him. The city looks dull and cold from the heights, but Silco’s building draws you with a dark, almost magnetic force. Your steps are slow, heavy, each one closer to the truth you’ve been denying. When you reach the door of the penthouse, doubt strikes you, but you don’t stop. You know. You can’t escape him.

Silco is there, waiting for you, as if he knew you would return. As if he knew the absence was only temporary, that nothing could keep you apart for long. His presence fills the air, heavy and dense, as always. And yet, there is something more in his gaze—something dark and satisfied. Silco is not the kind of man who is surprised by others’ decisions because, in his world, he is always in control.

“You had nowhere else to go, did you?” he says in that deep voice that takes your breath away, his tone so full of certainty you can’t respond. “You’ve realized it, as you always do. No one understands you. No one knows what you need, what belongs to you. Only I do.”

His words pierce through you like a knife. You know he’s right—there is nowhere else you can find what he gave you. The void left by his absence is something you cannot fill. No one else understands you. No one else has seen the darkness you both plunge into and embraced it. Silco is everything you are, everything you know.

You move closer to him, wordless, eyes downcast, a silent plea. Silco smiles, his gaze softening for just a moment before growing more intense. He steps toward you, as if advancing over familiar terrain—a battlefield he already knows. He watches you intently, as if he can read every thought in your mind.

“I knew you’d come back,” he murmurs, touching your face with a dangerous softness, a touch devoid of affection but full of possession. “You know, don’t you? You can’t live without me. You never will. You’re too broken to be free, always have been. You can’t stand being away—you know it.”

You nod slowly, unable to speak, unwilling to say anything more. The only truth is that you need to return to him. You cannot escape.

“You’re mine,” he continues as his fingers slide down your neck with palpable possession. “And you know it. No one else does, not even you. But I’ll remind you always, until you die. Because everything you are, everything you have, is mine.”

Before you can process his words, he steps back, and with a disturbingly calm demeanor, he pulls a small case from his pocket. He opens it slowly, revealing a black diamond ring. The jewel gleams with a macabre luster, as if it has a life of its own. He looks at it, then offers it to you. “I gave you everything. Now, I want what’s mine completely.”

The ring, with its dark color and incalculable value, hypnotizes you. You don’t need to think—you can’t think. In that moment, you surrender. You know what it is and what it means, but the idea of being entirely his draws you in with unstoppable force. You accept without hesitation. It feels as natural as breathing.

“Yes,” you whisper, the word flowing from your lips like a sentence, and you feel the world begin to revolve around him again.

He smiles—a cold, satisfied expression—and takes your hand, sliding the ring onto your finger with unsettling precision. “I knew you would. I knew you couldn’t escape. No place is safe enough for you. You’re mine, and you’ll never leave me.”

He moves closer to you, his face mere inches from yours. “Because only we understand what we truly are. No one else has seen the darkness like we have. No one else appreciates it. We deserve this. All we have left is this bond, this darkness. Why fear it when we can embrace it together?”

Your lips brush against his, and the dark passion overtakes you like a flame consuming everything in its path. The kiss is deep, almost destructive. There is no sweetness in it, only savage voracity. In his arms, you finally feel like you belong to something, to someone. You are his. And for the first time, everything feels right.

In that moment, the world shrinks to just the two of you. Nothing else matters—neither the university, nor family, nor friends. Only him and you, immersed in a darkness only you two understand. The ring, the seal of possession, is the final bond tying you together—a reminder of the inevitable.

Silco looks at you, his eyes dark yet filled with a satisfaction you’ve never seen before. “Welcome home,” he says in his deep voice. And for some reason, in this moment, all you can do is nod, surrendering entirely to the shadow that surrounds you, to the darkness that calls you.

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