#i have been writing or making art about this all evening this is not how I wanted to spend the evening it is past 4am | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

frannyzooey · 3 days ago

Text

Midnight

Din Djarin x f!reader

Rating: E

A/N: Happy New Year’s Eve! ❤️ Thank you for being so kind and patient with me this year — it’s been a long one, but this place has made it all the more tolerable. This has been a WIP since 2021 (!!) and it was so wild to brush it off and compare how much my writing has changed since then — thank you for sticking around, for being so supportive and for being a part of this community. I appreciate you all and hope you all have a great 2025! 🎉🎊🍾

—

9PM

The kitchen is already packed.

It’s been an hour since you arrived to the greeting of your coworkers broad smile, getting her for all of two minutes before you promptly lost her again. You’d seen pieces of her since, shimmers of her silver dress in between the crowd of bodies: her arm extended to hand someone a drink, her hip pressed against the counter to refill a chip bowl, her bright laugh above the din of conversation.

The beer in your hand had started out cold, but now borders on luke warm as you take a tentative sip. You grimace at the flavor, yet hold onto it, if only for something to do with your hands.

“Why are you drinking that?”

She appears in front of you, at last, the only person you know here. Pulling a face at the bottle in your hand, she lifts her eyebrow. “You don’t drink beer. Couldn’t find anything better at the bar?”

“I didn’t even see a bar,” you reply, standing on your toes to look around the room. All you see are shoulders and heads, a sea of pointed hats with shiny poms of tinsel on top.

She rolls her eyes with a smile, plucking the beer from your grip to take your hand in hers.

“Over here,” she leads, tugging you towards the living room.

Turning your body sideways to get through the crowd, you grin when the bar comes into sight.

The cart is an art-deco elaborate thing, mirrored and gilded. You remember her shopping for it online at the office, hiding the screen whenever your manager would walk by. Its beauty is hidden underneath a crowd of bottles, just as tight as the people in her apartment, and she twists and turns them, searching.

Lifting one up, she offers something else with a familiar smile. “Gin?”

You grin. “Yes please.”

–

10PM

One heavy handed gin and tonic later, you’re feeling much better about the situation.

You haven’t seen your friend in awhile, but that’s okay – your other coworkers have arrived.

“Okay but why is it such a personal thing?” you ask, tipping your cup to slip an ice cube into your mouth. “I know which one is yours – the one with Snoopy on it – and it’s not like it would be wrong if I took it, but it would feel wrong, you know?”

Your coworker nods earnestly. “Coffee cups in the office are weird thing, man. They aren’t labeled, but like…you just know.”

He shuffles forward for someone to pass by him, and you back up to make room, your back pressing against the stranger behind you. They are a solid wall of heat, and before you can turn and apologize, the ringing shout of more people being welcomed draws your attention in the direction of the kitchen door. Your friend appears under the archway a second later, leading a train of people through the crowd and as everyone parts to make room, the person behind you reaches back, placing their hand on your hip. Their hold pushes you lightly towards the wall, out of the way.

Looking down, you see a man’s hand – thick fingers, a broad palm and when you turn around, you find the owner.

Jesus Christ.

He’s fucking gorgeous. Tilting your chin up to start with the dark mop of his curls, you hungrily take in the rest of his face: a strong nose, plush lips, jaw covered in scruff. Easily the most handsome person you’ve ever seen, you’re frozen in place, and his neat mustache twitches with amusement.

“Hey,” he greets you, turning to fully face you. “Sorry,” he gestures to your hip with a flick of his eyes. “Didn’t want you to get run over.”

Those eyes. Those fucking eyes. Beautiful and brown, rich and dark – with creases that fan out when he smiles. He waits you out, and you wonder if he’s used to your reaction, or if his silence means he’s just as enamored as you with what he sees.

You hope it’s the latter, though you’re sure it’s the former.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, and he grins, a dimple appearing in his cheek.

A fucking dimple? Are you kidding?

“Din,” he says, pointing towards himself with the neck of his beer bottle. When you give him your name, you don’t miss the way his eyes slip down the length of your body and crawl back up. So open and blatant with his expression, it’s almost as if he doesn’t think you can see it.

Or maybe he knows you can, but doesn’t care.

Giddiness pools in your chest, and he gestures for your glass.

“Can I get you another?” he asks over the noise of the party.

“Sure.”

You grin, and he mirrors it.

–

11pm

How can someone be this good at charades?

It’s uncanny, his ability to convey so much with gestures alone. You wonder if maybe it has something to do with his confidence, or the graceful, commanding movement of his body. It’s like you’ve been able to read his mind and he yours, the two of you synced up after forty minutes in each other’s presence. He says nothing, and still, you understand every time.

His face is so subtly expressive, that’s what you think makes it. Or maybe it’s his hands, – large, capable looking things that he seems so deft with.

They’ve been touching you since you met — a firm pressure on the small of your back to guide you through rooms, a circle around your wrist when you were almost separated. A curved hold on your hip when you signed him up for charades, a gentle brush of his fingers when he slipped the strap of your dress into place after a round.

He comes back from the bar, two water bottles in hand and his weight drops on the couch next to you, his thigh pressing tight against your own.

The cushion forces you to lean into the bulk of his body and turning your head to the side, you whisper conspiratorially in his ear. “We’re killing them.”

The divot below his ear holds the best scent – heady and masculine, warm in the best way – and he smiles, returning a whisper of his own.

“I know.”

His boyish grin is deceptive, hiding how competitive he’s been this entire game, a trait that you find yourself liking. Not boastful like most guys, but more like he brims with a quiet confidence. Like he’s just sure of himself, his commanding presence drawing you in.

The other team starts, their shouts fading into the background as his eyes drop down to your mouth. You wait with bated breath for the flirty line that most men would deliver at this moment – but none comes. Instead, he stays silent, letting his eyes do all the talking.

They roam over your features, blatant and bold in their quest. His smile falters, slipping into something with more intent and the warmth held in his eyes simmers to turn into something darker, hungrier. Your mouth waters in anticipation, your tongue gliding over your bottom lip, and you watch as he follows its path.

His hand rests on top of your knee, encompassing it within his warm hold. The touch sparks a line of want that zips up the inside of your thigh to the damp crotch of your undies, a beat pulsing between your legs. It curls behind your belly button, pooling between your hips – a sticky slick ache that makes you press your thighs together.

The corner of his lips tug upwards as if he knows.

A chorus of groans declares you winners and he squeezes your knee in victory, his eyes still on yours.

11:59pm

“FIVE! FOUR!”

The cheer of the guests counting down is deafening, and you wince at the sound even while shouting yourself. Din’s arm drapes around your shoulders, the weight of it keeping you tucked along his side as he protects you from being crushed.

“THREE! TWO!”

Lifting your drink into the air, you grin up at him when he does the same. Couples around the room turn to each other, and you tip your chin upwards, your cheek fitting into the crook of his shoulder. He looks down at you, his arm tightening in its hold and it’s like a magnet pulling your mouths towards each other, anticipation building to a breaking point.

“ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!”

The room explodes in cheers and shouts, and he leans down to meet your mouth with his.

It’s a firm, sure kiss; his lips softly molding to yours. You savor it, pushing up on your toes to prolong it and when you pull back, you notice micro-expressions flit over his face: his eyes brightening before darkening with want, his lips pursing like he’s already missing the press of yours. He bends to kiss you again, and when his lips part yours to deepen the kiss, sparks burst and skitter through your limbs like the fireworks exploding outside. You lean into it, throwing your arms around his neck, your fingers threading into the curls at his nape and the strength and surety of his hold lifts you upwards, your toes skimming the floor, the wood underneath pulsing with the party.

No one notices when you slip from the room, or when he takes a bottle of champagne from a table as you pass it. No one notices when you climb the stairs, or when you slip into the last door on the right. Lost in their own celebration, the tune of Auld Lang Syne follows you down the hallway, the joyous melody muffled when he shuts the door behind you.

“I thought maybe we could celebrate in here. Alone.” His voice is so much richer without the noise of the party competing against it, and the boldness of the statement makes you flush with heat.

He takes a swig of champagne straight from the bottle and hands it to you, smiling when you do the same. The bubbles dance and burst on your tongue, similar to the feeling in your stomach when he pulls you in for a kiss. The flavor of the champagne is on his tongue, his mouth moving with intent and the music in the other room shifts to a heavier bass beat when he guides you backwards, his smile felt against your mouth.

You hit the bed with a breathless laugh, the weight of his knee dipping the mattress when he crawls up over you and though you have felt the heat of him next to you all night, it’s nothing like how it feels when he settles his body on top of yours.

His mouth immediately meets yours and his hands are everywhere, grasping anything he can reach: sliding from his hold on your nape to caress the round of your bare shoulder. Slipping the strap of your dress down as his touch skates downward, palming the weight of your breast. You arch into his touch, your whine muffled by his hungry mouth and his hips rock forward into yours. Your thighs widen, your skirt falling up around your hips, and his hand continues its way south, curling around the plump curve of your hip with a squeeze. His thumb picks at the band of your panties, and you squirm, forcing contact between the heft hidden underneath his fly and the soaked, delicate fabric that covers your core.

He’s hard – so hard, so thick with promise – and his mouth finds the hollow of your throat, smearing over the line of your collarbone before moving down to the swell of your breasts. You tug the collar of your dress down, an action that makes him stop – but only for a moment.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, husky and low, the words of reverence rumbling from his chest. Then he’s surging forward, cupping the weight of your tit in his hand, his mouth closing around the peak. The shock of warm wetness and suction when he pushes more of it into his mouth has you moaning shamelessly underneath him, your back arching to encourage the dull scrape of his teeth over your nipple.

You push him back, your hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt, and he sits up on his knees, reaching back to tug it off. He tosses it onto the floor, immediately draping his body back over yours. Your dress and bra tugged down around your waist, the weight and warmth of his firm chest against yours is delicious and heady as he continues to kiss you drunk.

Just as sure and competent as he was in the other room, he wedges his hand between your bodies and finds your clit with the pads of his thick fingers, rubbing it until you soak the crotch of your underwear with need. He can feel it, the sodden fabric slipping under his touch and he breaks your kiss, bringing his hand up to his mouth. His lips wrap around his fingers, a deep, satisfied groan pouring from his throat while you watch from underneath him, your jaw slack with want.

Your intense need for him snaps, your pussy clenching as you watch him suck and you frantically fumble with his belt buckle, working it open. Your hand trembles as he helps you, his mouth capturing yours in another consuming, frantic kiss that has him eating at your mouth and when you pull him out together, your breathing hitches in your throat at the heft that smacks against your inner thigh.

You try to look down, his broad chest blocking the view and it’s almost better that you can’t see it. There is something about the anticipation of it, the touch without the sight. You feel his hand wrap around the base of his cock, working to notch it at your entrance and when he breaks you open on the thick tip, you hold your breath, savoring it.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your jaw clenching. Aching for it ever since you turned to face him in the kitchen, the filling weight of his cock is overwhelming, your body being forced to make room for it. The snug, slick fit has you whining underneath him, begging him for something he’s already giving you.

“You feel so good,” you moan, and he gives you a smug look in return. His expression is laced with pride, his eyes hooded with arousal, his hips pushing forward until he’s in all the way down to the base.

“So do you,” he breathes just over your mouth, and you pull him in for a kiss, needing his lips on yours.

Expecting a fast fuck squirreled away in a bedroom that belongs to someone else, what you don’t expect is how intense it feels. His cock is a relentless, filling stroke that claims, his mouth breaking contact only when he wants to watch: his dark eyes trailing over your open mouth, your bouncing tits, your pleading expression.

And then he’s back on you again, filling you deeper, harder.

Your fingers weave into his sweat damp curls, keeping him close. The muscles in his torso shift against your own, highlighting the hidden strength held in them. His thighs spread for purchase, forcing yours open wider and his hand grasps handfuls of your bottom and of your hip to keep you in place underneath him. Knowing you have to be somewhat quiet, you drink each other’s moans.

You hear another couple stumble down the hallway – a thud against the wall followed by a loud laugh. The door knob jiggles and his hand clamps over your mouth just as a throaty moan breaks free. You whine into the humid curl of his fingers, and when the people outside jiggle the doorknob again, Din picks up his pace.

He fucks you: the weighted press of his body paired with the weighted press of his hold has you forced to take it, and when the couple outside moves on with a loud laugh to find their own private bedroom, he slips his hand off your mouth, fisting the bedding next to your head instead.

“Sorry,” he pants. “Didn’t want them to hear you.” His mouth rests next to your ear, his scruff tickling the delicate skin of your neck. “Those sounds are mine,” he breathes.

The sweet sentiment paired with the filthy confession flings you over the edge of your release, your body curling around his as a means to ground you. You want it all: the sweaty press of his bare skin, the softness of his curls, the humid press of his mouth. He fucks you right through it, restraint etched into his jaw.

“I want you…,” you start, your voice syrupy and slow, still quaking with aftershocks. “I want you to come.”

“I’m going to,” he warns, his elbows resting on either side of your face, his hand curling around the crown of your head. His lips brush against the apple of your cheek, dot the tip of your nose and he tucks his face into the crook of your neck and breathes in, his hips never ceasing. “You’re so wet. You’re so fucking wet, I’m gonna come.”

His voice has your eyes closing tight, his breathless pants for air making you pulse around his cock. The sounds he’s making are filthy – the filthiest coming right as he does.

He pulls out, but just barely – his hips slam against yours a couple of times: deep strokes that have you keening on his cock and just as his body tenses up with a deep groan that rumbles his chest against yours, his hips snap back, slick smearing from his cock along the inside of your thigh as he spends himself along the soft skin. Bracing himself on your hip, he closes his eyes tight and you take in the way he looks above you: desperate, beautiful. Hot spurts of his release pool on your skin, on the fine hair that dusts your pussy, and on the sheets underneath you – which has you wondering, for the first time, who’s room this is.

His pulse thrums underneath his tanned skin, and you ignore that line of thought, instead tipping your chin up to capture the beat in a kiss.

You hear him smile, and feel his body relax on top of yours. He hums with contentment, and finds your mouth with his own, pulling you into a deep, sated kiss.

“Happy New Year,” he breathes into your mouth. There is a beat of silence, his face shifting to nuzzle between your breasts. He kisses whatever skin he can reach, as if he’s starved for touch.

Guiding his face to yours, you nip at his bottom lip, loving the way it makes him smile against your mouth.

“Happy New Year.”

#din djarin #din djarin/you #din djarin/reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader

233 notes · View notes

melanchoire · 2 days ago

Text

KILLER ──── yu jimin ft. ahn yujin

── ( 🌹 ) you’ve always admired karina and yujin from afar, but when fate brings you together for a year-end festival performance, you find yourselves caught in a whirlwind of flirtation and intrigue, blurring the lines between art and passion in a way you never saw coming.

pairing. dom!karina x lssrfm 6th member!sub!fem reader x switch!yujin

warning(s). cunnilingus, degradation, fingering, hair pulling, making out, nipple play, semi exhibitionism, spanking, squirting. (probably forgetting something...)

word count. 7.3k (it takes a while to get to the point but i promise it's worth it)

author's note. first time writing smut LOL so i hope it's not complete shit.

the air crackles with excitement and anticipation as you stand backstage at the sbs gayo daejeon, the end-of-year festival that celebrates the pinnacle of k-pop talent. your heart pounds in your chest, an exhilarating rhythm that matches the pulsating beat of the songs echoing from the main stage. today, you would have the unique opportunity to collaborate with two of the industry’s most mesmerizing stars: karina from aespa and yujin from ive. just the thought sends a shiver down your spine—both of them are known for their electrifying stage presence and undeniable charisma, each capable of commanding the audience's attention with just a flick of a wrist or a flash of a smile.

the lights dim, and the audience erupts in cheers, signaling that another group has taken the stage. you glance at the crew bustling about, adjusting microphones and setting the stage. everything feels surreal, like a vivid dream you’re unsure you want to wake from. you’ve watched these performances from the safety of your couch, eyes glued to the screen, marveling at the talent of others. but now, here you are—about to step into the spotlight yourself.

you fidget with the hem of your outfit, a sleek ensemble that feels foreign against your skin. it’s stunning, of course, designed to make you look every bit the star you’ve trained to be. but all you can focus on is the gnawing insecurity deep within you. would you be able to match the presence of your collaborators?

karina, with her ethereal beauty and powerful vocals, has taken the world by storm. her ability to blend fierce energy with captivating visuals has made her a household name. she dances with a fluidity that seems almost supernatural, her movements a perfect blend of strength and grace. you've watched her perform countless times, her movements a seamless blend of grace and power, especially when she dances to her solo song "UP!" her confidence radiates, setting the bar for every performer who steps foot on stage. you can only imagine the electric atmosphere she generates, and the thought of sharing the stage with her sends a jolt of both excitement and fear through your veins.

then there's yujin. since her debut, she has been a force of nature, a whirlwind of charm and charisma and you’ve always admired her—how she effortlessly steals the spotlight during each comeback, whether it's in a sophisticated ensemble like "I AM" or a more edgy concept like "BADDIE." her charisma is palpable, her presence overwhelming. yujin has an innate ability to connect with the audience, to draw them into her world with just a smile or a gaze. it’s hard not to get lost in her captivating smile and effortless performance style. in a world where everyone is striving for perfection, she stands out, effortlessly capturing hearts and making it look so easy. you remember watching her from the sidelines at various events, thinking: “will i ever be able to perform with that kind of confidence?”

you can’t help but feel overshadowed by their brilliance. they are known for their incredible stage presence, their ability to engage and enthrall. but you? you’re the quiet one, the one who shies away from the spotlight even in the warmth of your group members’ company. yes, you've had your moments on stage, but always with the comfort of your teammates around you, their energy bolstering yours.

while your groupmates seem to flirt and play around with ease, you often stand at the edges of those conversations, a spectator in a world that seems just a touch too bright, too loud for you to jump in. you have had brief interactions with karina and yujin before, perhaps a shy wave or a quick exchange of compliments, but nothing that would prepare you for this collaboration, where you would have to hold your own against their vibrant personalities.

the announcer’s voice booms through the speakers, calling your names, and your stomach flips. you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. this is your moment. you’ve practiced countless times, poured your heart into the choreography, and learned the nuances of the song "killer," a sultry piece that’s all about confidence and allure. but now, standing here, you wonder if you truly have it in you.

your thoughts are interrupted when you feel warm hands at your hips. you turn to find yunjin smiling brightly at you, her presence a comforting anchor amidst the chaos. "you’re going to be amazing," she says, her voice bright and encouraging. "just remember, it’s all about having fun. No one’s here to judge you!"

her playful words wash over you like a gentle wave, pushing your worries to the side. she continues to rattle off a few inside jokes that make you chuckle, reminding you that you’re not alone in this. behind her, the rest of your members appear, offering you their unwavering support. sakura, with her calm demeanor, gives you a thumbs-up, while chaewon brings you into a tight embrace. kazuha, ever the optimist, grins at you and nods, her energy infectious. eunchae bounces on her toes, her excitement palpable, “you’ve got this!”

the embrace from your members wraps around you like a warm cocoon. for a fleeting moment, the anxiety begins to dissipate, replaced by the love and camaraderie that define your group. their faith in you feels like a lifeline, tethering you to the moment and providing a flicker of confidence. but as the sound of the mc's voice filters through the chaos backstage, signaling your imminent entrance, the butterflies return, dancing wildly in your stomach.

suddenly, the staff signals for you to head to the stage, and your heart pounds harder. you can hear the crowd roaring in anticipation, a cacophony of cheers and applause that sends adrenaline surging through your veins. you share one last glance with your groupmates, and they all nod at you, a silent promise that they’ll be cheering from the sidelines.

taking a deep breath, you step out onto the stage, the bright lights washing over you like a wave. the audience, a sea of eager faces, blurs into the background as you focus on the music that begins to play. your heart races not just from the excitement but from the overwhelming pressure of meeting expectations—yours and those of the fans.

when you step onto the stage, the world outside fades into obscurity. you are cocooned in a warm glow, bright lights shining down upon you and the unmistakable hum of excitement from the crowd filling your ears. it’s your moment, and you’re ready to seize it. in the center, you stand shoulder to shoulder with your backup dancers, their energy pulsating around you. at one end of the stage, karina stands with her back to the camera, radiating an enigmatic aura as she awaits the cue to sing. at the other end, yujin beams at the audience, her charming smile lighting up the room.

as you take in the sight of your two groupmates, a thrill runs through you. karina catches your eye, a smirk playing on her lips as she shakes her head, dismissing whatever playful banter you might have exchanged moments earlier. you feel a twinge of challenge in her gaze; it’s a silent dare that stirs something deep inside you. when you turn your attention to yujin, however, everything shifts. her grin is infectious, a bright spark that ignites a warmth in your chest. she waves lightly, a small wink sent your way that sends your heart racing.

but there’s little time to dwell on these feelings as the music begins to swell, an intoxicating melody that envelops you. the beat drops, and the moment karina starts singing, a wave of calm washes over you. her voice is a smooth, inviting embrace, allowing you to fall into the rhythm of the performance. you’ve practiced, but here, in this moment, you find a surprising ease. perhaps it’s the thrill of the sensual concept you’re tackling for the first time, or maybe it’s the undeniable chemistry among the three of you.

as the song progresses, your shy, reserved persona melts away and the transformation is remarkable. the shy girl the fans have come to know fades into the background, replaced by a bold and vibrant persona. you’ve never explored a sensual concept like this, but something about tonight feels right, like destiny calling. your body moves with the rhythm, and the choreography calls for something deeper—a sensuality that intertwines with each movement, drawing you closer to karina and yujin.

you notice how they both fit seamlessly into this seductive concept, their voices intertwining like threads of silk, creating a tapestry of sound that captivates the audience. karina’s low, sultry notes contrast beautifully with yujin’s bright and playful tones, both of them showcasing their strengths. Y

you are the third voice, harmonizing with them, but also pushing the boundaries of the choreography. It’s exhilarating.

the movements are fluid, a dance that flows between desire and restraint. there’s a moment where you’re touching karina, your hand gliding up her arm, and the connection sends electric shocks through your body. you meet her gaze, and there’s an understanding in her eyes—a mutual acknowledgment of the moment that sends your pulse racing. the way she bites her lip, a hint of mischief sparking in her expression, gives you the courage to continue.

you know what you’re doing, yet the thrill of it is intoxicating. you push the limits, letting your hands linger a moment longer than the choreography dictates. you feel the heat of the stage, the intensity of the performance, and the adrenaline that rushes through you. it’s not just dancing; it’s an unspoken dialogue, a flirty banter exchanged through each movement.

yujin is the cherry on top of this decadent cake. when she glances your way, that radiant grin reaffirms your confidence. the way she moves, with a blend of elegance and playful charm, is mesmerizing. you catch her eye as you slide your hand over her thigh during one of the sultry movements. it’s deliberate, a tease that feels electrifying. her breath catches for a fraction of a second, but then she smiles wider, as if inviting you to play.

you notice how the dance is designed to bring the three of you together, creating a palpable tension that makes the air thick with unspoken chemistry. there’s a deliberate intimacy in the choreography: sliding hands along arms, teasing glances, lingering touches. with each movement, you feel your confidence growing, and as the spotlight shines down, illuminating every curve and angle, you allow yourself to embrace the boldness you’ve found.

the audience’s cheers swell around you, drowning out any doubt or hesitation. you lose yourself in the performance, riding the wave of excitement, a primal instinct taking over as you navigate the choreography. the sensual touches become a language of their own—sliding your hands along karina’s waist, brushing against yujin's arms. each connection, each fleeting touch, feels like an unspoken promise.

this is not just a performance; it’s an exploration. your hands glide across their bodies, exploring, teasing, igniting a fire that simmers beneath the surface. when you lock eyes with yujin again, her playful expression urges you on, and you find yourself pushing boundaries, taking risks you wouldn’t have dared to consider before. you let your fingers slide from her shoulder down to her collarbone, brushing against her neck in a movement that feels almost magnetic.

you can’t help but notice the intensity of their gazes, the way they watch you, and it makes you feel alive. you thrive under the spotlight, every moment resonating with the cheers of the audience, fueling your daring. it’s intoxicating, like stepping into a dream where you can be anyone, someone fierce and confident, unafraid of what might come next.

as the music shifts, you find yourself at the edge of a crescendo, the beat pulsing wildly as you prepare for the final sequence. the choreography calls for a break dance, and as yujin takes her seat, and you and karina kneel on chairs behind her, anticipation crackling in the air. you share a knowing glance with karina before your focus shifts back to yujin.

you perform the head rotation together, a synchronized move that brings you even closer to her. when yujin begins to sing her part, her voice is a beautiful melody that wraps around you like silk. then comes the moment when you and karina place your hands on yujin’s shoulders, ready to lift one leg in a clean, sensual movement. but as you slide your hand down yujin’s shoulder, the touch is softer than intended. your fingers brush against her collarbone, trailing playfully down to her neck. it’s unexpected, and you can feel the tension in the air shift. the audience gasps collectively, but it’s the way yujin’s eyes widen for a split second before she regains her composure that sends your heart racing.

the thrill of the performance peaks, and you can feel the crowd’s energy erupting, as if they can sense the chemistry simmering between the three of you. the moment is electric, and as your fingers linger a heartbeat longer than necessary, a rush of heat spreads across your cheeks.

when the performance ends, the applause rings in your ears, but your mind is still buzzing. you share triumphant smiles with karina and yujin, each of you riding the high of the performance. but when the lights dim, and the cameras shift away from the three of you, you notice something that makes your heart skip a beat.

karina’s gaze is locked onto you, a smirk still playing on her lips. there’s a fierce intensity in her eyes, something deeper that you hadn’t noticed before, and it sends a rush of warmth through your body. but it’s yujin who catches your breath. she’s watching you with a look that is almost predatory, her charming smile replaced by something more charged, more dangerous.

you take a step back, heart racing, feeling exposed under their scrutiny. the teasing glances you exchanged earlier now seem to hold a weight you hadn’t anticipated. there's electricity in the air, a connection that feels almost palpable.

in that moment, you’re caught between the two of them, each exuding their own allure and charm. karina, with her bold confidence and smirk that promises mischief; yujin, with her radiant smile and eyes that glimmer with something more than mere friendship. you can feel the tension thickening, and for a fleeting second, you wonder if perhaps there’s something more behind those gazes.

you’ve just come off the stage, adrenaline coursing through your veins, the echoes of cheers still ringing in your ears. the performance was electric; every move, every beat resonated with the crowd, and you can still feel the heat of the spotlight. as you stride towards your dressing room, the noise of the world outside fades away, leaving only the rush of your own heartbeat and the thrill of collaboration with karina and yujin lingering in your mind.

the door swings open, and you step inside, immediately met with the soft glow of the room’s lights. your heart rate begins to settle, and you reach for a bottle of water on the table, taking a long, refreshing gulp. you lean against the cool surface, savoring the moment of stillness. the stage may have been a whirlwind, but this was your sanctuary.

as you make your way to the plush couch in the corner, the soft fabric welcoming you like an old friend, you hear the door creak open behind you. karina and yujin stride in, their energy still crackling, filling the small space with a palpable tension.

“hey!” karina says, a hint of something serious in her tone as she stands directly in front of you, blocking your path. “did you enjoy the performance?”

you look up, meeting her gaze. there’s something in the intensity of her eyes that makes you hesitate. “yeah, it was fun,” you reply vaguely, hoping to downplay her curiosity. but as you attempt to sidestep her, she’s quick to take a step closer.

but she doesn’t let you off the hook. “fun?” she echoes, her voice laced with skepticism. “it looked like you were having a lot more than just fun with us out there. you seemed quite happy being... touchy.” she presses, her eyes narrowing playfully yet intensely.

a rush of heat floods your cheeks at her words, and you try to sidestep her again, seeking refuge in the comfort of the couch, but she’s faster. her fingers wrap around your forearm, gently but firmly holding you in place. “what’s the rush? you don’t want to talk about it?”

you try to step around her, but she moves in front of you, her presence blocking your way. “c’mon, just answer me,” she insists.

“seriously? can’t you just let me breathe for a second?” you attempt to sound annoyed, but there’s an undercurrent of tension you can’t shake off.

then, as you make an attempt to back away, you collide with yujin, who had been standing quietly behind you. the sudden contact sends a jolt through your body, your back hitting her chest. you look over your shoulder, and she flashes a teasing smile that sends shivers down your spine.

“oh, what’s this?” yujin coos, her voice playful yet laced with challenge. “i didn’t know that beneath that shy personality, there’s a little attention-seeker trying to come out… a hidden whore craving attention.”

you open your mouth to retort, but the words falter as karina’s hand suddenly grips your face, squeezing your cheeks slightly to redirect your focus onto her. “uh-uh,” she says with a mocking tone, her expression unreadable yet intoxicating. “you’re in no position to give attitude right now. you’ve already had more than enough fun out there.” her tone is teasing, but there’s an edge to it, one that makes your stomach flutter.

you try to wriggle free, but her grip is surprisingly strong. Instead, you find yourself looking deep into her eyes, a silent conversation passing between you. there’s mischief there, and something deeper that makes you hesitate.

the room grows thick with tension as karina holds your gaze, her eyes speaking a language of their own. you can feel the air crackling between the three of you, a magnetic pull that is hard to resist. your heart races even faster, an exhilarating mix of anxiety and excitement flooding your system.

“honestly,” karina continues, her voice softening slightly, “i think you deserve to be put in your place.” the way she says it is both a challenge and an invitation, leaving your mind spinning.

the tension in the room thickens, and you catch yujin’s gaze as she watches the exchange with an amused smirk, her own intentions simmering just beneath the surface. in that moment, it feels as though the air around you is charged, electric with unspoken desires and possibilities.

before you can process her words or even find your own, karina grips a handful of your hair, her fingers threading through the strands as she pulls you closer. the world outside fades away, and in a heartbeat, her lips crash against yours, initiating a kiss that is both passionate and messy—a collision of desires that leaves you breathless.

you’re caught off guard, your heart pounding in your chest as the kiss deepens. karina’s lips move against yours with a fervor that ignites something inside you. her other hand cradles your jaw, tilting your face just right as if she’s molding you to fit perfectly against her.

in that moment of dizzying intensity, you barely register the warmth of yujin as she sidles up behind you. her hands slide around your hips, and you can feel her breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “you really do like this attention, don’t you?” she murmurs, her tone sultry and teasing.

you’re torn between responding and getting lost in the sensations swirling around you. karina’s grip on your hair tightens just enough to remind you of her presence, of her ownership, while yujin’s fingers trail up your sides, brushing against your skin through the fabric of your outfit.

the moment is intoxicating, overwhelming. yujin’s hands glide around your waist, pulling you closer as she leans in to kiss your jaw, trailing soft, warm kisses along your neck and shoulder. you gasp at the sensation, the way her lips graze your skin, igniting a trail of heat wherever she touches. you can’t help but lean into her, surrendering to the intoxicating mixture of thrill and lust. that's when she bites gently at your skin, leaving small red marks that ache and throb with a tantalizing heat, making it difficult to suppress the soft whimper that escapes your lips.

karina, noticing your reaction, pulls back slightly to look you in the eye, her expression a mix of mischief and satisfaction. “c'mon, focus on me now. you've already given her enough attention there on stage, it's my turn now.”

yujin laughs softly, a sound that seems to reverberate through you. “i think she enjoys having the attention of both of us at the same time, don't you?” she teases, her fingers still exploring the curves of your body with an unabashed confidence that leaves you dizzy.

“wait—” you begin, but karina’s lips crash against yours again, silencing any protests you might have had. you can’t help but melt into the kiss, responding in kind, feeling your inhibitions slip away as the thrill of the moment takes over.

“look at you...” karina murmurs against your lips, her voice low and sultry, as her fingers tighten in your hair. “always all shy and sweet for your fans, but here you are…” she kisses you again, deeper this time, as if she wants to consume you entirely. you can taste the heat of her breath, feel the urgency in her touch, and it drives you wild.

yujin’s fingers begin to explore, finding their way under your shirt, teasingly grazing the skin of your stomach. “i think you’ve been hiding too much.” she whispers, her breath warm against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “time to let go, don’t you think?”

yujin’s hands travel boldly, her fingers finding their way to your breasts, teasing over the fabric of your top. you gasp into the kiss, your body arching slightly as she pushes against you, her warmth enveloping you from behind. the sensation is electric, a shocking jolt that resonates through your entire being.

“don’t act so surprised.” karina whispers against your lips, her breath warm and inviting. “you know you love this.”

there’s a part of you that wants to deny it, to push back against this surge of overwhelming desire. but as yujin continues to grind against your ass, her body a warm, intoxicating presence behind you, and karina’s lips dance against yours, you realize that the barriers you’ve built are crumbling.

you moan softly, the sound escaping your lips before you can even think to hold it back. it’s a surrender, a realization that perhaps this is what you’ve been yearning for all along—an escape from the confines of your carefully constructed persona as a k-pop idol, a chance to explore the wild and the sensual, the playful and the forbidden.

“you’re finally letting go.” karina murmurs, a satisfied smile breaking across her lips as she pulls away just enough to see your expression. “that’s more like it.”

you can see the approval in her eyes, and it sends a thrill through you, fueling the fire that’s already igniting between you. with each passing moment, the dressing room feels smaller, more intimate, as if the world outside has faded away entirely.

yujin leans in, her voice low and teasing. “are you ready for us to show you just how much fun this can be?”

and in that moment, you realize that the performance may have ended, but the real show is only just beginning.

before you can answer yujin, karina sweeps the contents of the vanity desk with her arm, sending makeup and hair tools tumbling to the floor in a cascade of chaos. lipsticks roll like marbles, and a hair dryer clatters loudly, disrupting the serene quiet that had cloaked the afternoon.

you hear the sound before you see it—a chaotic crash of makeup and hair tools clattering to the floor, a cacophony that sends a chill of foreboding through your spine. the world narrows into a singular focus, and you turn your head just in time to catch karina's wild, determined gaze. she is a force of nature, an unpredictable storm, and you feel the air shift as she strides toward you, intent on asserting her will.

before you can utter a word of protest, karina’s hand shoots out, seizing a handful of your hair. it stings, a sharp reminder of her dominance, and with a single fluid motion, she pushes you forward onto the vanity desk. your stomach collides with the cold, unyielding surface, and a rush of indignation bubbles within you. you manage to stifle a hiss, pressing your hands against the smooth wood to cushion the impact, though you can’t hide the frown twisting your lips.

the world around you blurs for a moment. the mix of perfumes, the mess on the floor, and the growing feeling of vulnerability all combine to cloud your thoughts. you blink rapidly, trying to ground yourself in this bizarre situation.

you feel your heart racing in your chest as you lie there, vulnerable and caught off guard. you glance sideways, and there, standing before you with a confident smirk, is yujin. her heels click against the tiled floor, echoing like a metronome counting down to some inevitable climax. she crosses her arms, a smug grin spreading across her face, eyes twinkling with amusement. the sight of her fills you with a mix of dread and defiance.

“look at you...” she says, her tone playful but edged with a hint of authority. “in no position to complain now, are you?”

you want to answer her, to unleash the sharp-tongued retort bubbling in your throat, but before you can articulate the words, karina’s fingers deftly hook the waistband of your pants. the sensation sends a shiver down your spine, a mixture of dread and adrenaline surging through you. she pulls your pants down in one swift motion, and a sharp slap lands on your exposed ass, earning a gasp from you that surprises even yourself.

“what the—!” you feel the heat creeping up your face, a rush of embarrassment flooding through your veins. you can’t believe this is happening. you’re caught between wanting to fight back and the sheer absurdity of the situation.

“oh, don’t act so shocked.” yujin purrs, leaning closer. her voice is a smooth whisper, and despite the chaos, there’s a teasing lilt to it that stirs something deep inside you. “you brought this upon yourself.”

“i didn’t do anything!” you protest, the indignation bubbling in your chest. but even as you say it, you can feel the heat of their gazes, the weight of their laughter wrapping around you like a cozy blanket that you don’t want to wear.

karina leans closer, her breath warm against your ear, and the way she looks at you sends a shiver down your spine. “be a good girl and accept it, will you?” she murmurs.

she hooked her fingers in the waistband of your panties and yanked them down your legs, letting them drop to your ankles. then she settles between your spread thighs, her hands gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them apart. she leaned in, dragging the flat of her tongue up your slit in one slow, teasing lick. she hummed in approval at the taste of you, her fingers digging into your flesh.

feeling karina's mouth on your pussy, your head fell forward against the desk with a thunk, along with a breathy moan escaping your lips.

karina delved between your thighs, her tongue swirling around your clit before sucking the sensitive bud between her lips. her hands slid around to grip your hips, pulling you harder against her hungry mouth as she ate you out with wild abandon. the obscene sounds of her tongue and lips working your pussy filled the room, mingling with the pulsing beat of the music outside.

but before anything else can happen, yujin places her hand under your chin, lifting your face up so you're looking at her.

“i wanna have fun too, pretty girl.” without hesitation, she stepped back and quickly unbuttoned her tight leather pants, shimmying out of them to reveal a pair of skimpy, black lace panties underneath.

as yujin kicks her pants aside, she turns to the table, swinging one leg over the table and placing one foot on the surface, almost straddling your face. she wore a pair of panties that left little to the imagination, the damp patch at the crotch betraying her arousal. towering over you, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband and slowly peeled them down, revealing her glistening pussy, bare and ready.

“fuck, hurry up, i need your tongue inside me.” yujin panted, gripping your hair and pulling your face against her wet heat. she ground her hips forward, smearing her juices all over your lips and chin, coating your mouth with her essence.

you dove forward eagerly, burying your face between yujin's spread thighs. the scent of her arousal filled your nostrils as you leaned in to run your tongue along her glistening slit, tasting her essence for the first time. yujin gasped and shuddered above you, her hips rocking forward to press her pussy harder against your mouth.

“oh fuck, just like that.” she groaned, tangling her fingers in your hair and holding you in place. her grip tightened as you began to explore her folds more thoroughly, your tongue delving between them to taste her deeply.

meanwhile, karina behind you hums in approval at your taste, lapping at your folds with renewed enthusiasm. she zeroed in on your clit, circling the sensitive bud with the tip of her tongue before sucking it between her lips. two fingers delved into your wet channel, pumping in and out as she ate you out with single-minded focus.

yujin's musky flavor exploded on your tongue as you licked and sucked at her most intimate places. you focused your attention on her clit, circling and flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of your tongue before sucking it between your lips. yujin's grip on your hair tightened even more, her thighs trembling around your head as she ground herself against your face.

keeping one hand fisted in your hair, holding you in place, she raised the other to the hem of her tight top, sneaking her free hand underneath her shirt. she cupped the soft mounds, kneading and squeezing them roughly as you continued to devour her pussy. her fingers plucked at her nipples, rolling and tugging on the sensitive buds as she writhed beneath your oral attentions. yujin let out a low moan, her head falling back as sparks of pleasure shot straight to her core.

the sight of her touching herself, putting on a show just for you, only heightened your own building arousal.

behind you, karina could feel your body tensing, your muscles pulling taut as your orgasm approached. she curled her fingers inside your pussy, stroking that special spot deep within as she licked and sucked mercilessly at your clit. karina's free hand slid around your hip, finding your ass and squeezing the cheek hard.

yujin was just as close, her hips bucking erratically against your face as she grabbed her tits with wild abandon. she pinched and tugged at her stiff nipples, sending jolts of pleasure ricocheting through her body. her pussy clenched and throbbed, dripping arousal down your chin as she rutted against you.

yujin's breath came faster, her chest heaving as she continued to grope and tease her tits, putting on a show for you. her grip on your hair tightened, pulling you harder against her dripping cunt as she rutted her hips against your face, chasing her pleasure. “don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop.” yujin cried out, her voice ragged with lust.

karina stands up, leaning over your body still lying on the table, pressing her chest against your back. “fuck, look at you, taking both of us so well, making yujin feel so good…” she purred, nipping at your shoulder before sucking a dark mark into your skin. her fingers picked up speed, fucking into you harder, faster, the wet sounds of your coupling growing louder. “you're such a dirty girl, getting off on being used like this. i love it.”

karina revealed the power she had over you, in the way your thighs trembled and your stomach muscles fluttered under her touch. she could feel you teetering on the edge, your pussy clenching around her plunging fingers. “now be a darling for me and make yujin cum, will you? since you had the guts to play the role of the daring girl on stage when you were with us, i hope you can put that attitude on now too.”

again, karina drops to her knees, burying her face between your thighs and giving her full attention to your pussy again. she held you in place, pinning you against the desk with her body as she devoured your pussy like a starving woman.

she could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering around her plunging fingers as your climax approached rapidly. she curled her digits just right, rubbing that spongey spot deep inside that made your toes curl in your hells. at the same time, she sealed her lips around your clit, sucking the sensitive bud hard as she flicked her tongue over it rapidly. the filthy wet sounds of her tongue and fingers working you over filled the cubicle, punctuated by your desperate whimpers and moans, oh, and yujin's babbling moans and heavy breathing.

“that's it, baby girl.” karina growled, her voice muffled against your sex. “come for us. let go and come all over my fingers like the dirty little slut you are.”

the combination of karina's filthy words and the intense stimulation proved too much. with a final hard suck to your clit and a deep thrust of her fingers, karina sent you hurtling over the precipice your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your inner walls spasming uncontrollably around her digits as you gushed your release into her eager mouth. karina drank you down greedily, prolonging your pleasure until you were a shaking, boneless mess against the desk.

you screamed your pleasure into yujin's cunt, the sound vibrating deliciously against her sensitive flesh. yujin cried out, her own climax slamming into her as she grinded your face against her dripping sex. she came hard, her juices flooding your mouth as she shuddered and convulsed, her tits bouncing in her hands as she pinched and tugged her nipples mercilessly.

karina continued to stroke your spasming walls, milking every last drop of pleasure from your quaking body. the two of them worked you through your intense orgasm, fingers and mouth never stopping until they had wrung every last drop of pleasure from your quivering body. finally, with a shudder and a gasp, you slumped against the table, utterly spent and satisfied.

in front of you, yujin slowly came down from her high, her grip on your hair loosening as she caught her breath. she looked down at you with a satisfied, almost feral grin, taking in the sight of you, debauched and panting, still buried between her thighs.

yujin licked her lips, still flushed and panting from her intense orgasm. she gazed down at you with a wicked, satisfied smirk, taking in your disheveled appearance; hair mussed from her grip, cheeks flushed, and lips glistening with her essence. she could see the way your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, the evidence of your shared pleasure splattered on your skin.

as the aftershocks of your shared orgasms began to subside, yujin reluctantly pulled your face away from her sensitive pussy. she helped you sit up, her hands roaming over your curves appreciatively as she took in your disheveled state.

”fuck, that was so hot.” yujin purred, her voice low and rough from her cries of ecstasy. she slid off the table, standing on wobbly legs before tugging you up by your hair. her other hand found your chin, tilting your face up to meet her heated gaze. she leaned in, hovering her lips a mere breath away from yours, letting you feel the weight of her arousal. “you're fucking incredible baby.” she breathed against your mouth before closing the distance and kissing you deeply, tasting herself on your tongue.

but of course, once again, you turned all your attention to yujin again. and to no one's surprise, that wasn't something karina liked.

as yujin kissed you, karina emerged from between your thighs, stood up and pressed herself against your back. she grabbed a fistful of your hair, gripping it tightly as she pulled your head back, separating you from yujin and forcing you to look up at her.

she withdrew her soaked fingers from your dripping pussy, bringing them to your lips. she tapped your bottom lip with the slick digits, smearing your own arousal across your mouth. “open your mouth.” karina purred, her voice a low, seductive growl.

somewhat bewildered, you didn't react immediately to her request. karina's expression changed almost instantly, the discontent on her face was evident when she saw that you didn't comply with her order when she was more than gentle and clear with you.

“i said "open your mouth".” she repeats her own words, however, her tone is more authoritative and demanding, a clear difference from the first time. without waiting for you to respond, she wrapped the strands of your hair around her hand, pulling them in a harsh tug, drawing a gasp from you and forcing your mouth open.

karina plunged her fingers inside, not giving you a chance to resist as she shoved them in deep, pushing them in and out, fucking your throat with her hand. “that's it baby, clean up the mess you made on my fingers...”

at the same time, karina shoved her other hand under your chin, gripping your jaw and forcing your mouth open even wider as she pumped her fingers faster, harder, hitting the back of your throat with each brutal thrust. drool dripped down your chin, your eyes watering from the intensity of her actions. “i bet you fucking love having your throat used like this, don't you? love being treated like a set of holes for us to use?”

karina abruptly pulled her fingers out of your mouth, leaving your jaw slack and your chest heaving. a string of saliva connected her slick digits to your bottom lip before breaking, dripping down onto your heaving chest. karina licked her fingers clean, savoring your combined tastes with a wicked grin.

“mmmh, you taste fucking divine.” karina purred, her voice a low, rough rasp. she released your hair and gripped your chin instead, tilting your face up to force you to meet her intense, lust-filled gaze. her other hand slid down your throat, feeling the way your pulse raced beneath her touch.

she leaned in close, her face mere inches from yours. you could feel her hot breath ghosting over your lips, smell the faint hint of sweat and perfume that clung to her skin. her icy brown eyes bored into yours, filled with a hunger that made your core clench with anticipation.

“you're fucking gorgeous like this, all disheveled and desperate.” karina murmured, her voice a low, seductive purr. her hand slid from your chin to wrap around the back of your neck, long fingers tangling in your hair as she gripped it tightly. she used her hold on you to yank your head back, exposing the column of your throat to her greedy mouth.

karina's lips crashed against your neck, her teeth sinking into the tender skin as she marked you as hers. she licked and sucked at the reddening skin, no doubt leaving a vivid hickey in her wake. her other hand slid down your spine, gripping your ass and pulling your hips flush against hers.

“i know you're craving more…”

her eyes, usually sharp and playful, are languid now, half-lidded as she leans closer. you feel the warmth of her breath ghost across your neck, the faintest scent of her familiar strawberry lip gloss filling your senses. a delighted flutter takes root in your stomach, a feeling you know all too well, the one she ignites with just a look.

your own gaze is drawn to her lips, the curve of her grin promising a stolen moment, a quiet connection before the storm of the stage. the small hand resting on your hips makes your skin tingle.

but then, just as your fingers brush Karina’s arm, the bubble bursts.

karina’s eyes widen, a mischievous glint replacing the warmth of a moment ago. you see her mouth curl into a teasing smirk as she steps away, abandoning you with a laugh that echoes in the suddenly silent room. “oops, looks like someone was getting too comfortable.” she throws a teasing glance over her shoulder, her voice laced with playful mockery. “better hurry, princess. you’ve got a show to do in, what… five minutes? three minutes.”

she pulled away, that teasing smile still playing on her lips, and turned to yujin, who was leaning against the makeup table, watching the exchange with an almost feline grace. a slow smirk spread across yujin’s face as she met your gaze, a knowing look that mirrored karina’s.

then, with theatrical flair, karina grabbed your pants, which had been carelessly tossed over a nearby chair, and threw them at you. they landed in a crumpled heap at your feet. “wouldn't want you going on stage half… dressed, would we?” the laughter in her voice was low and rich, the kind that made your stomach twist in a pleasant sort of knot.

the sound of fabric rustling came from your left. you glanced over to see yujin straightening her top, smoothing down a non-existent crease. you could hear the soft click of a button being fastened, the sound somehow echoing in the strangely quiet room. both of them were watching you now, their amusement palpable. their eyes were like dark pools reflecting the glow of the stage lights, holding a wicked glint that simultaneously teased and intrigued.

“oh, and tell sakura unnie i send my regards.” yujin called over her shoulder, the playful tone doing nothing to soothe the flush creeping up your neck. you watched, dumbstruck, as both she and karina, a mirror-image smirk on her own face, walked out of the room, leaving you alone.

the room felt suddenly cold, the earlier heat replaced by a chilling wave of embarrassment. your cheeks were burning, no doubt a vibrant shade of red. your entire body tingled with the memory of karina's touch and the shared heat between you and yujin. they had been playing with you, teasing you, and you'd fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

you could picture them now, probably giggling together outside the door. how could you be so easily distracted? you were a professional, an idol, a performer! you had a show to do, and here you were, pants on the floor, heart pounding, and a blush that could probably be seen from space.

before you could think anything else, loud, hurried knocks echo against the dressing room door. following that, you hear the voice of chaewon, your groupmate, calling your name in a hurried and clearly irritated tone. “we are waiting for you to start our performance! if you don't put on your outfit and bring your ass to the stage right now, you know you're going to regret it later!”

the night would definitely be longer than you expected…

#yu jimin x fem reader #yu jimin x reader #yoo jimin x fem reader #yoo jimin x reader #karina x fem reader #karina x reader #karina smut #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #aespa smut #yujin x fem reader #yujin x reader #yujin smut #ahn yujin x fem reader #ahn yujin x reader #ahn yujin smut #ive x fem reader #ive x reader #ive smut

226 notes · View notes

bodhrancomedy · 2 days ago

Text

Update: I opened it.

(Dated cira: 2009)

To me,

Hey, how are you! There are so much I want to ask, like what is my job, At the momant, I am trying to publish a book. (I want to be an athor and star in a few plays too!) I like drawing, writing, daydreaming, climbing trees, collecting myths from all over the world, running and playing my D.S, (I just got a new game called "The legend of Zelda, Spirit tracks") do you still have Coffy? How are Mum, Dad [two sisters]? Do I have a pet? I live in [house name], where do I live now? My friends are Chloe, Davide, Hugh, Sophie and Simon. Who are my friends now? Did I get a degree? What is my house like? How much do we get payed? What is the newest tecnoligy? Have you been to Egpt, New Zeland and Norway.

Bodh

To me,

I'm well, thank you. I'm going to do my best to answer your questions even if some of the answers are probably not what you thought they'd be when we were nine or ten (you couldn't have dated this to make our lives easier?).

Currently we are a member of the gainfully unemployed, but that is due to a series of decisions on our part rather than lack of ability - don't worry! However, I think you'd be really pleased to know that we are, in fact, an actor and writing and have a few really cool projects coming up.

I'm excited to hear about the book, was that a series of short stories starting with the Magic Jug? We still haven't officially become an author (yet), but we have punished several plays, poems, and short films! We made our stage debut in Edinburgh in 2021 as a principle cast member in Redraft, but our TV debut on Hope Street in January, 2024. Our first acting job was with the BBC which is incredibly cool of us. We also just finished working for the Royal Shakespeare Company too, making a little digital series about a fake political party. We got to go to a press night in costumes from the RSC costume department complete with a crown and fill in for an actor during a rehearsal for the play we were working with!

We still like drawing, writing, and daydreaming. We have a much bigger collection of myths now, but we've been slacking in our running. We still play on the DS - down to recently replaying Spirit Tracks! Nintendo came out with an update to the DS called a Switch and the newest Zelda games of Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom are going to blow your mind.

We still have Coffy - it's OK we didn't have to give him up when we got bigger like you're worrying about. He sits on my bookshelf and watches over me when I write just like he does now.

Mum, Dad, and our sisters are doing very well. Your little sister is going to do a postgraduate degree and your older sister is working her dream job and happily married. We're very proud of them.

We don't have a pet, sadly, because we live in a very cold, very cramped flat in the capital. It's pretty rundown and very expensive, but we live with two very, very cool people so that's all good. You have loads and loads of brilliant friends and, while we lost touch with most of those friends, you still talk to Chloe and she even came to our sister's wedding.

You did get a degree - you got a first class Bachelors of Arts with honours in Theatre and Film from QMU in 2021. You loved the course and I'm thinking of going back to do a Masters in Acting for Stage and Screen this year.

Our last jobs as tour guides and lifeguards paid us minimum wage, unfortunately, but if you saw the pay-cheques for acting and writing your eyes would pop out of your head! They're not as much as you think they are, but they're really fun to look at.

There's loads of new technology but I think the one which would interest you the most is NASA's Parker Solar Probe which just flew only 1.8 million miles above the surface of the sun at 43'000 miles per hour which is faster than any human invention has ever gone. It's so cool.

We haven't been to Egypt, or Norway, or New Zealand, but we have been to Iceland, and Italy, and the Netherlands. We're going lots of more places, don't worry.

Thank you for writing to me, I hope this letter is what you hoped for.

Yours,

Bodh.

So I went home for Christmas and while I was there, I found this tucked away in a corner of my room which is being reorganised.

It’s a letter to my future self.

It’s clearly been opened once, but I don’t know who by or when.

From the handwriting I’m guessing it’s 2010ish because I doubt my handwriting was that good in 2005 and I lived somewhere else. 2010-2025 seems the kind of gap a teacher would assign.

So, I have 2 days before I can open this.

#deaf #queer #letter to myself #2025 #new year

901 notes · View notes

copperbadge · 4 hours ago

Note

Hello! I’m writing to ask a permission for making a printed copies of your fanfic “Stealing Harry”. We are a group of individuals who print fanfiction for themselves and a group of fans. We are typesetting and design books for ourselves and then print them all together for personal use. Our project is completely non-profitable and made by fans for fans. Will you be comfortable to give us your permission to add your work to our “Wolfstar” collection book and if so, how many copies do you allow ?

Hi Anon! Sorry for the delay in response!

I do have an inclusive transformative works policy -- as long as my name is credited, you can do podfic, art, and bookbinding (and other stuff, if you desire) with my stories. I love to have links to the end result but that's just because I like seeing how people play in the sandbox.

I'm a little concerned about the "how many copies" question but only because that's not something I've dealt with before -- I'm not sure whether you are binding the books yourselves ala the binding movement in fandom right now, or typesetting them to go on a print-on-demand site. The latter can get dicey, but I'm going to trust you at your word that it's for personal use and non-profit; if you are going through Print On Demand, all I ask is that the purchase link not be made public. Otherwise do with it as you will :) If you have further questions feel free to hit me up at [email protected] and certainly I'd enjoy seeing photos of the finished product!

And thank you very much for asking permission first. I know a number of people whose fanfic has been lifted without permission and NOT kept private (copies for sale on Etsy or Amazon, etc) so even though I have a universal access policy, not everyone does, and it's good manners to check in. Thanks for doing that. :)

54 notes · View notes

welcometololaland · 1 day ago

Text

10 things - 2024/2025 edition

happy new year, everyone! 2024 has been a year of change for me in so many different ways, and i've posted very little fic this year, mostly due to writers' block and time constraints. so, instead of doing the writing round up i thought i'd list 10 things i'm grateful for in 2024 (fandom edition) and 10 things i want to do in 2025 (also, fandom edition). please feel free to make your own if you wish! consider this an open tag 🏷️

2024 - things i'm grateful for (in fandom, in no particular order)

1. my ride or die friends who deal with my self doubt and breakdowns and (being 100% real) paranoia about situations that simply don't exist - @rmd-writes @celeritas2997 , the popcorn squad and others. wouldn't be writing without your support!

2. the writers who have trusted me to beta for them - @heartstringsduet @basilsunrise @rmd-writes i think i'm forgetting some (so sorry if so). michelle, being with you through first aid was such an amazing experience, and i feel so lucky to have seen you develop as a writer!

3. the people who have read my fics and encouraged me including the wip wednesday and seven sentence sunday tags! - i literally would not be anywhere without you. you actually give me life.

4. the friendships i've made on discord with people who just wanna know me for me and share little snippets of their lives - @reyesstrand and @heartstringsduet the little squirrel photos y'all send me are soul soothers for real! @st-elle-ar and @clottedcreamfudge and @lightningboltreader and @birdclowns for the cat pics! @howtosingit for your commentary and spoiler services 💜

5. the grace given to me by @carlos-in-glasses and @actual-sleeping-beauty - you two are so kind and encouraging and tell me all about your knitting projects even when i go missing for weeks on end. thank you for being my friends <3 and i don't even think you guys know you are both my yarn obsessed friends but you ARE.

6. everyone who has trusted me enough to collab with them on projects - the legends on never the same twice, @rmd-writes @strandnreyes. i loved working with you and i hope you had a positive experience! looking forward to more collabs in 2025.

7. the document gremlins, betas and sensitivity readers i've collected this year - @rmd-writes @strandnreyes @lightningboltreader @celeritas2997 @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut ty ty ty ty some of those fics were in danger of being lost forever but we revived them!

8. @she-walked-away for making me laugh with your hilarious posts and olympia2997 who apparently doesn't exist on tumblr but leaves the most unhinged comments of all time on my fics.

9. everyone who has translated my fics or made art or gifs this year! inspired by you and in awe of you! @donghaian @whatsintheboxmh @heartstringsduet @guardian-angle22 i know there are more i'm so sorry if i've not listed you here!!!

10. everyone in the various fandoms i'm in who have created brilliant works in 2024! i am inspired by your work more than you know <3

2025 - things i want to do (in fandom, in no particular order)

1. read more, and read more broadly. expand my horizons a bit. read things that are a touch outside my go-to zones just to test the waters. read stuff by new authors!

2. spend time co-writing because that's actually my favourite thing to do. i have some things in the pipeline with a couple of people which i hope work out!

3. finish. the. damn. fic. (eurotrip). IT'S SO FREAKING CLOSE.

4. spend more time with my 2019-2021 beloveds - alex and henry. write more rwrb fic. engage in the fandom a bit more.

5. finish the ring-in 2.0 within 1 month of the LS finale (weep).

6. take one hand off the wheel with fandom relationships - my therapist tells me i need to stop trying to control how everyone feels about me and instead let people show me the kind of friendship they're interested in maintaining. scary because i think i may lose some people along the way but OH WELL WE BALL.

7. worry less about the engagement! god! i need to stop looking so much! *shakes fist at self*

8. write a little more regularly with less word count expectations.

9. learn how to be okay with smaller comments (from myself). sometimes i feel terrible if i don't write a damn essay but sometimes it stops me from reading which is horrible!

10. be a better fandom contributor than i was in 2024 - i think continuous growth is important and i'm always open to feedback (as long as it's constructive and genuine)! my mission is to always make a positive contribution and to make people feel good about themselves, and if i can even do that for one person in 2025, i think i will achieve this goal.

ty for the 2024 wrapped tags @hippolotamus @rmd-writes @reyesstrand @emsprovisions @nancys-braids @carlos-in-glasses @lemonlyman-dotcom @alrightbuckaroo @strandnreyes @thisbuildinghasfeelings @whatsintheboxmh @heartstringsduet @firenati0n @cha-melodius. you are real ones! consider this a tag back if you would like to do a 2024/2025 10 things edition.

#10 things in 2024 and 2025 #this is my version of the fic wrapped because i barely posted anything this year #911 lone star #red white and royal blue #ty everyone!

54 notes · View notes

d011zk1ll · 2 days ago

Text

Soooo... New years appreciation post time!!

Honestly, Tumblr is one of the few places where I can just. THINK. And I'll find like-minded people. Like .. where are you all irl??? At the beginning of this year I had, what? 50 followers. And now I have 300 something. Please don't ACTUALLY follow me, especially home! From ASMP, to SBG, I've found brilliant, creative people on this app. I've made some amazing friends, and some moots that I sit and marvel at on a daily basis. How I got here, I'm not sure. But I know some people have seen the entire progression, like @easybakeovenn (I'm praying that's Koda's easybakeoven account, if not!! I'm sorry random person/gen!!)

There will be special mentions under the cut, obviously!!

@what-is-going-on-im-confused ah... Good old Meels. I still sit and stare at the art you've made of Mao and Scarabella daily, I don't think you know how much I SCREAMMMEDDD at Koda when you showed me it. It's, well, incredible. YOU'RE incredible. You're funny, and one of my best mates. Though we still need to restart that stardew farm at some point... This time with the chickens... Thank you for helping me with alyanette august, and I'm really happy you did, because else you'd have hidden away in a corner somewhere, and we wouldn't nearly be as close as we are now

@rot-decay-erosion @catladymasterofsqirl RAGHHHHH I LOVE YOU GUYS. you always find the best stuff to play, and although I wouldn't trust Rot to drive a car, I'd still trust you with my life if I came down to it. You're both such, well I've said It a lot already but, brilliant people. It's always fun to hang out with you, whether it's taking and texting about random things, or playing horror games on call, it's always a nice way to Brighten my day!!

@easybakeovenn @drac0line1nn1t ah.. We've been THROUGHHHHH it the past couple years, we'll have known eachother for 2 years this year. Fucking fascinating. I've seen you both grow and I'm so glad I have, you're amazing people. Even if I don't get the opportunity to talk to you, Draco, often due to my Tumblr DMS being broken half the time, I'm still glad we're friends. We need to do Brighton again sometime!!! And koda... Don't perish when you move like a fish in a fishtank....

@thurio-edau thank you, for attacking me in my DMS and SWARMING me with one of my first SBG posts. Else I'd not have known half the amazing people like @ohquail or @fly-in-amber or Kaz (who's tag ive forgotten... I'm GREATTTT at this, if you couldn't tell) you're funny and I'll never forget when you cut the chocolate with that dagger necklace

Special mentions than I can't write a paragraph for because my early onset probable arthritis is kicking in and my wrists are dying slowly: @low-senka @carpetbug @primalmagic @afrogwhocantdraw @sashaishere14 @cookiedough77 @pineapple-sbg-official (I'm @cimonofficial I just didn't know your main and honestly, you're pretty cool so you make it here too!! YIPPEE)

And all my other moots. Ily guys MWAH happy new year!!

#happy new year

47 notes · View notes

doodlewizardry · 13 hours ago

Text

ooohhhh long long post!!!! [this is @doodlejoltik's main btw for any of the people I tagged that might not recognise it]

@pillowbugs aww thanks ! i didn't realise/remember that your blog was new at the time :O that's awesome to hear! it's fun seeing your art and writing!

i cannot possibly mention everyone cool that i know on this site but I'll try for a few at least. again in no particular order

@beastkonohaworld BK!!! you've been a great person to work with and an even greater friend :D chemmet is one of the highlights of my merch collection too. here's to another great year!

@protagpigeon KAIT! :D collabs shenanigans silliness you name it, if it's comedic we can do it XD immensely enjoyed all the time we've spent together, may there be endless more fun times to be had

@reestallized hey reestal! fellow Rei fan :D love your art and ideas loads, they're always so great to see !!! especially your traditional art it's something you do that is very cool :O same with the colour palette challenges

@cheesecake801 cheese it's quite possibly your fault that I enjoy volkner so much. it's contagious you spread it to everyone XDDD love the warm colours you use in your art and all the Character Thoughts you have, they're so wonderful <3

@skitter-kitter aka. one of the Lear fans ever. it's Definitely your fault i like Lear so much i blame you entirely /lh thank you for the fun times vibing about writing in DMs together, the community you've organised for us Lear fans, and generally being Very Cool <3

@ursamajorgamma we only met this past year, but it's been a delight knowing you! VC shenanigans beloved all our conversations have been so interesting and/or fun. epic Lear art and other paintings too :OO

@defoozor thank you for the cool art talk and other conversations, the awesome concepts you've made (Lear_Gem and Arc Suit Consequences are iconic) and also the VC fun hehe

@davepeta neppy you're always down for fun and silliness and you appreciate a good Bit! cool writing too, and art, and it's just awesome to hang out with you on chat.

@choochooboss Jun thank you for everything you've done for the community and being an AWESOME person to know! I've gushed many a time about how much i love pokemagma so I won't repeat myself but suffice to say it's one of the best things I've ever been part of. and to borrow from BK: U CUTE also!

@turtwisp we've only been talking regularly pretty recently, but you are very cool :3 love your barries !!!

@grubbin22 you are so nice and so sweet i've very much enjoyed the time we've spent together!!! and I've always admired your art so it's awesome to make your acquaintance

@monvallaria our acquaintance has been short so far but I'm absolutely loving it!!! you're a delight! love all your little doodles with hearts everywhere and much hilarity it's wonderful <3 <3 <3 here's to more fun together

@antihibikase it was super fun to talk and hang out productively, plus it's nice to see you around. i hope 2025 is a good year for you <3

@ultipoter yippee ulti! i love your art so much... such a recognisable and distinct artstyle with some traditional and anime influences that is Very Tasty. awesome character thoughts like that one Volo comic that popped off, hilarious Bits (Volo Cola, our incredibly stupid venn diagram /affectionate) and one of the guys of all time (holds up Jirou like a lil plushie). it's always a delight when you're around! I'm very happy to know you

@scraggscribbs hey scraggs, hope you've been well! i appreciate all the support and amazing comments you've given me on my fics <3 and you make such AMAZING manga with such interesting characterisation, I'm in awe! enjoy all our conversations very much and would love to catch up again :D

@hwpn-gurire I really appreciate all the comments and positive energy you bring to the pokemas community! you uplift everyone and always have a kind word :) plus your art is fantastic - thanks for teaching me that lil trick about offset colour, it's a really fun effect to use!

@claitea you have Many character thoughts that we are in agreement on / make me Think. really great stuff, thank you for appreciating my insane tag rambling on your posts LOL frequently pointing like yeah YOU GET IT! your art is great too with many :O comics that live in my brain rent free 👍

@kobandan you've listened to me a lot over this past year, thank you for that <3 your art is awesome, especially love your submas series with all their different pokemon. seeing those less popular combinations get the spotlight is great!

@smashwolfen originator of UPDOG my beloved snorlax.... thank you for the Very Epic name and continuing to stay subscribed to my silly Updog Newsletter XD I promise to continue the saga! also love your art, so much good PLA <33333 the Volo sketch page I remember quite well, phenomenal stuff hahahaha

@raikouswish rei-membering all the good times we've had this year 😁 i always have so much pun talking to you! here's to staying f-rei-nds in times to come >:3

@shibearts U CUTE !!!! love your designs and OCs they are super epic and you always hit me with the nostalgia blast. you've inspired me with your character design! geographyverse collab sometime this year surely

@submastrain it's been awesome collaborating with you! your rendering and colours make my brain light up they're so good :O

and many MANY more people that I've had the pleasure of talking to or reblogging posts back and forth with or drawing with - I'm sorry I can't mention you all!! appreciate all of you, whether we're mutuals or you're just following me along on this ride - both here and with my pokeposting :3

happy new year!

@jumpy-buggy-33 @ollie-arts67 @ashmeertheimp @k4izershasfreakycanon @cyrophobia

[And all my moots becuz I'm supposed to be helping out during party 😋]

#// tikposting #long post #love you guys <3 #certified tik yapping moment

271 notes · View notes

barblaz-arts · 2 days ago

Note

Hello!

I would like to start with the fact that your art style is amazing, same goes for the design of the characters. (They look yummy tbh)

I have been wondering if you ever got some kind of art block, if yes what did you do?

If you see this, I hope you have a great day.

Thank you!

Most of the time, when I wanna draw but cant quite know WHAT i wanna draw, I redraw stuff. Like, screenshots. Or old drawings. Or even memes. Those are especially fun for drawing expressions I might not usually draw. Or I take scenes from fics I like or fics I've written and draw them. It helps that I get to move my pen with only half the brain power needed to picture what I want drawn.

But sometimes when I really cant overcome it, I usually just wait it out. Do my other hobbies like read or write or churn up another meta analysis. You cant force yourself to overcome that block sometimes and that's ok.

Oh but sometimes tho! Something that works unintentionally is when I'm like really really upset. I dont like to show it much, bcuz I understand that I'm getting old and I have a significant amount of followers that I dont wanna be a bad example to... But I can have quite a temper on me and can get really petty. But instead of exploding, I try to draw with those feelings.

Like, a while ago, I got really upset about stuff with an AI art fraud. And im just like, you know what this person can claim they're an "artist" all they want, but they still havent even shown a paper drawing as concrete proof. all just excuses and shit. The next moment I drew this, just to reassure myself that I'm an artist and I know what being a real artist is. That unlike AI frauds, I can show I dont need a computer to draw. All I need is a pencil and paper and I'm good.

(Then I proceeded to draw more than I usually do on paper because of that lmao)

And then when Youtooz came with an announcement that they're gonna release four figurines, half of which was 2 versions of Alastor and NO sign of Vaggie, I drew four Vaggies. Yes. I drew all this angry. Until yunno. I got so happy over how nice this ended up looking instead.

And then the last art I posted with the Harem Hotel AU? That's been in my drafts since november but I only got to finish it recently because I got upset over all the people in my notifs leaving hate comments about Vaggie lmao. Just told myself that they can claim to be objective critics who arent misogynistic, but at the end of the day all they could do is leave mean comments on twitter. Meanwhile, I can create! It's borderline horny gay shit, but hey! At least I'm doin' something productive! I can show female characters like her are are worth so much love to the point of making art!

Just. Idk. Maybe next time you feel negative feelings and shit, use art as the outlet for that negativity. Make something out of it. It doesnt have to be pretty, but hopefully it could make you feel good.

Or you know. Like I said, just wait it out.

#asks #i am also in quite a mood today #over. um. non fandom shit. life shit #so im drawing! yey

50 notes · View notes

dokidokitsuna · 2 days ago

Text

It’s 2025, and I’m starting off the new year by announcing that I’ve moved to BlueSky, finally! It’ll be nice to run a more casual art account again, and have a place to promote and advertise projects without feeling icky: https://bsky.app/profile/dokitsuna.bsky.social

Speaking of projects– I really wanna get a lot of stuff done this year. For one thing, I WILL finish and release Magical Friends Episode 2 or die trying. 😤

I also wanna start getting my personal projects off the ground: LADYBIRD, Magical Girl No. 1, my as-yet unannounced short film…some other one-off projects I’ve got stashed away…all the depressive episodes I went through last year gave me a lot of time to plan and write, so it’d be great if this year I could start bringing those ideas to life. ^^;

In general, I’d like to keep watching my skills improve (because they have been progressing a lot lately), and keep on making art to make people happy. ^^

I’ve decided that one of the things I want most from my art is to give people a distraction from troubled times. It may sound silly, and it definitely feels silly thinking about cartoon blobs goofing around when there’s so much going on in the world…until I remember how much I rely on the work of other creatives to help reset my brain when I’m overwhelmed with grief and stress.

Everyone needs a break from suffering occasionally; there’s nothing wrong with that. And if I can give someone a good laugh or something cool to think about when they need it most, even if it’s just to break them out of doomscrolling…that alone makes it all worthwhile. 👍

#musings

30 notes · View notes

hollowed-theory-hall · 1 day ago

Text

Hermione's Appearance

I'm writing this becouse a lot of fans like to headcanon Hermione as dark-skinned, and even JKR has stated that in the books Hermione was never mentioned to be white outright (for CC), but, contrary to JKR and the popular notion, Hermione's skin tone was mentioned in the books, multiple times, and it's white.

(I don't really care if anyone headcanons her as not white, and you can draw/write whatever you want, but I do want to mention what the canon actually is since it seems many of the fandom (and JKR) have forgotten like with Harry's height and appearance).

First, I want to talk about the skin tone, and then the rest of her features since many insist her skin color was never mentioned (including JKR). But Hermione's face is described as white multiple times:

Hermione’s white face was sticking out from behind a tree.

(PoA, ch21)

“Saw it. Just now. When I fell asleep in the exam.” “But — but where? How?” said Hermione, whose face was white.

(OotP, Ch32)

Hermione gave an almost inaudible sniff. She had been exceptionally quiet all day. Having hurtled, white-faced, up to Harry outside the hospital wing and demanded to know what had happened

(HBP, Ch19)

And pale:

There were footsteps down the passageway and Hermione and Ginny came into the kitchen, both looking pale and drowsy.

(GoF, Ch6)

Hermione was wrapped in a borrowed dressing gown, pale and unsteady on her feet; Ron put an arm around her when she reached him.

(DH)

Hermione is pale enough to visibly tan over the summer:

They were there, both of them, sitting outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor — Ron looking incredibly freckly Hermione very brown, both waving frantically at him.

(PoA, Ch4)

This line about Hermione looking brown is usually used as evidence for her skin being brown, but the context is that she returned from summer vacation in France. The context and why Harry mentions it is because Hermione is tanned. This is the only way it makes sense her skin is referred to as white in literally every other context and why her skin being darker is something Harry comments on in this way (when he usually doesn't. He doesn't call any dark-skinned character "very brown". This is because it's different from Hermione's norm. And yes, some white skin can tan to the point of appearing brown and not just get a sunburn).

And when she blushes her face turns pink, not something usually described with darker skin, since blushing would usually not appear pink:

Hermione threw her book aside. She was still pink in the face, but stood up and faced Ron defiantly.

(PoA, ch11)

“Of course, they want to be free!” said Hermione at once, though her face was turning pink.

(OotP, Ch13)

We all know she has bushy hair and large front teeth (at least until later in GoF):

Harry looked up and saw Hermione Granger standing at the top of the white flight of steps to Gringotts. She ran down to meet them, her bushy brown hair flying behind her.

(CoS, Ch4)

One, with very bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth, was Harry’s and Ron’s friend, Hermione Granger.

(GoF, Ch5)

Hermione's bushy brown hair is always said to be bushy, not curly (the term JKR uses whenever a character does have noticeably curly hair and never once used for Hermione's hair). It means her hair is thick and likely quite dry. This actually could exist with straight hair, but I think Hermione's hair is more voluminous. The book illustrations (left) and the old Pottermore art (center & right) of her give her hair some waviness, but it's not really curly:

I usually imagine her kinda like the main character from the beginning of the Princess Diaries movie:

(The image on the right is not from the movie, but a good irl example of wavy dry frizzy hair)

It has volume and is bushy, dry, and wavy rather than curly. It just seems more in line with her book descriptions and official illustrations. Basically, it's wavy, dry, thick, and frizzy, but not curly-curly.

(Bellatrix, notably, is also never mentioned to have curly hair. Her hair is described as long and thick, not curly, and it's likely her hair isn't curly either).

Hermione's eyes are brown:

Her spirits were greatly improved by the fact that all the hair had gone from her face and her eyes were turning slowly back to brown.

(CoS, Ch13)

Honestly, I mostly made this post for the hair and skin, since Harry mentions nothing regarding her eyes beyond "brown". Nor does he mention any of Hermione's facial features besides her large front teeth, so we don't really have much to go on there.

Regarding her height, as I mentioned in my post on Harry's height, both Harry and Hermione are about 5'1 (155 CM) when they are 13 (shorter than Pettigrew).

By book 7, she is shorter than Harry noticeably and mentioned alongside Mondungus, so I think they're likely similar in height:

Hermione and Mundungus were shooting upward;

(DH, Ch4)

In book 5, she is clearly taller than Ginny (who's around 5'1 even when she's 17):

“Very well — take the smallest one,” she ordered the Death Eaters beside her. “Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I’ll do it.” Harry felt the others close in around Ginny.

(OotP, Ch35)

So, I estimate her to be around 5'4 (163 cm) or 5'5 (165 cm).

Again everyone can headcanon/write/draw whatever and I'm gonna be the last person to tell you what to do, but I just want to remind everyone what canon actually says.

#harry potter #hp #hp meta #hollowedtheory #character appearance #hermione granger #harry potter meta #hp headcanon

42 notes · View notes

hiriajuu-suffering · 1 day ago

Photo

Okay, hear me out on the Sword Art Online IP.

Watching the cinematography and the subtle character moments in Progressive shows Reki Kawahara is actually picking up how to write his characters rather than plow forward with the plot. Only reason I've really been keeping up with franchise at all is Fairy Tail and SAO often get lumped together as the bad, gratuitous fanservicey shonens of the early 2010s.

Don't pay any mind to the fact, as far as organic character progression goes, the big 3 of this decade: Demon Slayer, Jujistu Kaisen, and My Hero Academia, are vapid shells of character development compared to the amount of reading between the lines authors wanted you to do for characters a decade ago. I don't like bad stories, but SAO, at its core, was never one of them.

How it was executed the first time was.

I was always of the opinion the first 14 episodes of SAO is 25 episodes of material spliced through because the manga had so little material to work with, probably because Reki Kawahara was focused on the metaphysics of the story rather than making it emotionally moving in a way that isn't jarring. The Aincrad arc is what made the show the most iconic anime of its time and all the time skips made things less connected. This is how I would've mapped out the show, given what we know about the material now.

Episodes 1-4: Town of Beginnings, early stages

Episodes 5-8: Moonlit Black Cats & Nicholas the Renegade

Episodes 9-10: Silica

Episodes 11-13: mental health, laughing coffin, the murder mystery

Episodes 14-15: Lisbeth

Episode 16: rare rabbit episode

Episode 17: the floor 74 episode, but instead of Heathcliff challenging Kirito immediately, Asuna/Kirito run away from the frontlines here because they came so close to dying.

Episodes 18-22: all the floor 22 material (spanning over months, not weeks w/ the fishing episode as a side story), ending with all of the Knights of Blood Oath having resentment towards Asuna/Kirito because no progress is being made without them, forcing Heathcliff to then challenge Kirito to a duel.

Episode 23: the original episode 10, I actually think it's fine if this is rushed. Only change is Asuna resigns as Vice Commander before they fight the skull reaper.

Episodes 24-25: the original episode 14, paced properly. Asuna & Kirito fight Heathcliff together instead of damseling Asuna, she falls in battle and Heathcliff realizes they both overcame the system because of their will to survive for each other and not themselves.

I think this might've fixed the pacing issues, but Progressive has went above and beyond to show all the new arcs aren't just ass-pulls from things that weren't shown in Aincrad, but things you can realistically place through the story. After all, I'm writing this in a time, in-universe, Asuna is supposed to be stuck in ALO in canon. Speaking of ALO, SAO abridged has just written ALO perfectly as it was produced, but the Fairy Dance arc always felt like it should've started a new season and Fairy Dance, Extra, Phantom Bullet, Calibur, and Mother's Rosario could've all fit in 24 episodes: FD (7), Ex (0.5), PB (10.5), Calibur (2), MR (4). Biggest problems with the SAO story through the pre-AR arcs

Sugo's character was laughably evil and making Asuna's father out to be a dumbass when her mother is supposed to be the point of trauma

The entire incest angle. SAO abridged literally fixed it.

Dumb MMORPG race-bait narrative politics

Sugo hearing about Kirito but literally no one in ALO respecting him even when he shows he's cracked as hell

The duel with Eugene could've been far less convoluted if you needed a fight scene because it created suspense exhaustion

Literally none of the sexual assault was needed. Brainwashing is enough of a crime, this was literally a thought of "the female fans won't care enough unless the boss of this arc is a pedo".

Asuna's damseling continuing after Fairy Dance

Forced sexual tension between Sinon and Kirito

Crazy exposition dumps

Lack of compersion between Asuna & Sinon. This sullies the way Kirito handles Alice and her overall character. Almost every fan recognizes the story would be better served removing bad harem elements with ones that illustrate you can love your friends platonically and equally (see Klein), regardless of gender.

Those issues, I feel, Reki Kawahara has recognized and we're seeing him rectify in his writing. Ordinal Scale, as a film, was limited by the series writing, but, in context, it was a perfect film for what it was doing. Both Alicization seasons were a step up, but still showed flashes of the bad writing that gave SAO its reputation.

Eugeo was well-written, Alice Zuberg was setup to be a phenomenally written character, the fact Alice Synthesis Thirty feels no imposter syndrome or reconnection with Zuberg is self-defeating to the narrative.

Eugeo is just Sachi written properly

Lack of parallels of Administrator's behavior to Sugo's made the narrative less sound

Imposition of top-down A.I. as irreplaceable humanity before they suffer from the eye thing when an artificial fluctlight were basically just NPCs anyways - maybe paint Asuna as the norm and Kirito having a broader definition of human worth from that war meeting?

Xenophobic propaganda

Gabriel Miller's motivations????

Mind control gimmick after Eiji/Yuna appeared was dumb. Eiji should've beaten Vassago and Asuna should've finished him by speaking with Eugeo's spirit on how to use the combo Kirito used on him to trap him the underworld. Asuna, as the literal goddess of the underworld, Staccia, should've been the Mary Sue.

Bercouli was literally just there with nothing defining

Leafa just being there as a plot device and to get molested

Higa being too much of a fanboy to save the queen's fluctlight?? Really???

Alice being recognized while Asuna/Kirito aren't when they go back into the underworld

A lot of people were saying Alicization was what SAO was supposed to feel like, I still am of the mind its potential fell flat. Sinon, Yuki, and Eugeo are the only 3 characters that have been strong in my view, and, as a Lisbeth, Leafa, and Yui fan, the failings tend to stack up.

If Progressive is any indication of what things can be, unital ring will be my favorite arc. You can wrap up Asuna & Kazuto's human story without damseling Asuna and without it getting in the way of how Klein, Silica, Lisbeth, Leafa, and Alice should be growing as people. Sword Art Online is best when Asuna is strong and Kirito sustains her, but not vise-versa. Sword Art Online is best when we can reasonably see how Suguha is the best irl sword-player in the group, not Kazuto. Sword Art Online is best when they put together character-writing like Eiji. Unital ring feels like it's supposed to be a story that doesn't need to tug a hanging thread from the Aincrad arc to spur on the plot, and that's where the actual story development can get interesting. The biggest flaw with SAO is it's been extracting everything it can out of all the time skips it did because it rushed through its foundational narrative, without really challenging or reframing how we look at the story since episode 14.

I want to believe that's what Reki Kawahara is doing with unital ring series being written. Otherwise, there won't be any payoff to the series and Kirito is the biggest self-insert isekai harem protagonist and nothing more than that. If the theming of the series says anything, it's that the world deserves more life than presenting another ghost of Aincrad.

So yeah, call me cringe, but I'll still be looking at SAO as what can fix anime, even though it created a lot of the problems we have with it now. I don't think anything else can.

If we ever get separated again, I swear I’ll find you, and come to your rescue. Because, Asuna, you’re my partner, all right? Yes.

#sword art online #sword art online progressive #reki kawahara #sword art online alicization #sword art online unital ring #sword art online abridged

172 notes · View notes

emeryleewho · 4 hours ago

Text

For a couple years now, I've been struggling with reading Big 5 books because I realized that the majority follow a very specific formula, and once you crack the formula, every element becomes predictable and kind of boring.

Last year, as publishers started leaning hardcore into AI (especially my publisher who has been trying to force AI on us for years), it really clicked for me that the reason they don't think AI books suck is because they've already been forcing a sort of AI-adjacent storytelling on authors. "AI writing" is just language prediction. Put a bunch of words together in the order they'll most likely appear in based on previously established datasets, and in a lot of ways, that was how I felt writing books for trad pub to buy. It felt like every time I sat down at my computer, I was just plugging pieces into slots to fill in the formula, and any time I deviated from that formula, I would be told that every deviation needed to be removed to make the story "clean".

I don't know at what point so many people who claim to love books completely lost sight of what stories are supposed to do, but last year, I told myself that if I don't want to be replaced by AI, I need to stop letting trad pub force me to write like one. And frankly, this is why I think media literacy is so important.

Every human made book--no matter how good or how bad--has something to offer because when you engage with it, *think* on it, you open yourself up to another chunk of the human experience. You're communicating with other people like or unlike you. Even books you hate inform your opinions. Even books you think are problematic help you better establish your moral compass. Every book has something to offer.

But if you can't tell the difference between a real book and ai content with a book aesthetic, you also won't notice the difference as real art and storytelling is replaced by ai generated slop that has nothing to offer because it doesn't come from *anyone*. It's just the book-length equivalent of pressing the suggested next term on your keyboard while you text your mom. The words mean nothing, there's nothing to engage with, and anything it makes you feel is based solely on your own projection, the equivalent of getting into a fight with yourself over something that could never happen.

Now, I don't think all trad pub books are bad. Like I said, every real book has something to offer. But I think the prevalent mentality overtaking trad pub of what makes a book "good" is not actually about writing quality and is entirely about how to generate the fastest, most formulaic story on the misguided premise that this will make the most money. At some point, authors, agents, and editors will have to push back against this or we're all set to be replaced because publishers have established audiences that are looking for formulaic and predictable stories, so why not let them be written by predictive text? Saves them a lot of money and completely cuts us out of the picture. I'm over it.

#writing #publishing #media literacy #literary analysis

28 notes · View notes

calware · 19 hours ago

Note

I am getting back into HS because of you! I actually have been thinking about it for a bit... Something I've been feeling recently though, is the idea that my interpretations, my works, my views of these characters could not reasonably sit next to others', whose are all more nuanced, more in-depth and researched... but I really enjoy your takes, and I'm gradually understanding tjat even if I'm not a true Halwarrior, or a Jake Jingler, I can still make meaningful works with these characters even if I don't know Every detail of them or nuanced perspective on them. I suppose I feel like my output in the fandom, in relation to canon, has been lackluster! It's been almost 10 years since I got into Homestuck, and even now I blank on vital stuff... but I really appreciate your takes and art and creations, because it makes me feel more at ease and intrigued by things I don't fully comprehend (like how I've read the comic 5 times and still feel like a bucket of mud after reading the dialogue boxes more than 2 sentences LOL), rather than hesitant to create. I hope this all makes sense, it's kinda like I'm typing whatever comes to mind right now. But all in all, thank you. I've had my fair share of rough times in this fandom, but I love it dearly. And even though we don't know each other, I'm glad there is somebody like you out there. Stay strong, and have a wonderful new year.

hi thank you for taking the time to write this all out it makes me really happy to hear that you're getting back into hs :)!! i definitely know what you are feeling and often feel the same way, i see a lot of people who have been around the scene much longer than me who've done a lot of thinking & writing about the story who have much more interesting & well thought-out things to say compared to me. but i think of the two cakes theory and remember that we all have something unique to contribute! i don't really think there's such thing as a "lackluster" contribution to fandom because there's no requirement to contribute to fandom at all. even if you wanted to just sit back and see what others do, or not even engage at all, there's nothing wrong with that. this is not a class that we are trying to get a good grade in, it's a community of fans that we all engage with because it's supposed to be fun and enjoyable. i share my thoughts because i would explode if i didn't get them out and i like to draw little things because it's my way of expressing my love of this comic. even if i may disagree with people from time to time (frankly, i think my new year's resolution should be to be less of a hater), i still like to hear other people's perspectives and interpretations, and what really makes the hs fandom stand out to me is the community i'm part of where we can exchange our thoughts and ideas

i am so glad to hear that you enjoy the things i make because i love sharing them with others and it makes me happy to know that it makes other people happy too. if you want to contribute, don't hold yourself back :) and i hope you have a great new year as well!

#ask #polynyapaws #btw. NOT over jake jingler #new term has been added to my vocabulary

26 notes · View notes

kirammanswifey · 3 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.

28 notes · View notes