#who found ittt

[ganeshpnf]

You go into Ao3, happy to read some fics, find a good one with an interesting plot but then you see the tags and stop yourself:

Percy/Apollo

Annabeth Chase bashing

Anti Annabeth Chase

Past Percabeth

Percy/Artemis

Athena bashing

Bad parent Athena

You can add more to comments or rbs 😭

[rose24207]

May I ask for a George Weasley x reader where he wants to invite her to the yule ball because he likes her but he asks too late and she already has a partner because she didn't think George would ask her (she goes with Harry as friends because he needed a partner and they are close friends) but in the middle of the ball he confeses his feelings to reader and she confeses too so they spend the rest of the night together?

A dance too late

Summary: George hesitates too long to ask his crush to the Yule Ball, only to discover she's going with Harry as friends, but amidst the festivities, he finds the courage to confess his feelings, leading to a magical evening spent together.

Genre: fluff

TW: None!

A/N: There you go! I hope you like ittt!!! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The Great Hall buzzed with excitement. Glittering decorations hung in every corner, and students whispered about dress robes and dance partners. George Weasley leaned against the Gryffindor common room wall, pretending to listen to Fred while his eyes followed you across the room. You were sitting with Hermione and Harry, laughing at something Ron said.

"You’re not even listening, are you?" Fred’s voice broke through George’s trance.

"What?" George blinked, turning back to his twin.

Fred smirked. "I said you should just ask her already."

George flushed. "Ask who?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "Don’t play dumb. You’ve been staring at Y/N for the past ten minutes."

George glanced at you again, his stomach doing a flip when you smiled at Harry. "I was waiting for the right moment," he muttered.

Fred crossed his arms. "The Yule Ball is next week. If you wait much longer, someone else will ask her."

The thought sent a jolt through George. He nodded, determination replacing his hesitation. "You’re right. I’ll ask her tomorrow."

By the time George found you, it was after dinner, and you were walking with Harry down the hallway. His heart thudded nervously as he approached.

"Y/N, can I talk to you for a sec?"

You looked up, surprised but smiling. "Of course, George."

Harry gave you a teasing look. "I’ll catch up with you later," he said before disappearing around the corner.

George scratched the back of his neck, his usual confidence faltering. "So, um… the Yule Ball."

Your smile faded slightly, and you nodded. "What about it?"

"I was wondering if—" George hesitated. "If you had a partner yet."

Your face fell, and you glanced away. "Oh, George… I didn’t think you’d ask. I already told Harry I’d go with him."

George blinked. "Harry?"

"Just as friends," you said quickly. "He needed a partner, and I figured… well, I thought if you wanted to ask me, you would’ve done it by now."

George’s heart sank. He wanted to kick himself for waiting too long. "Right. Of course. That makes sense."

"I’m sorry," you said softly, your expression filled with regret. "If I’d known…"

"No, it’s fine," George interrupted, forcing a grin. "Harry’s a lucky guy. You’ll have a great time."

You looked at him, your eyes searching his face for something unsaid. But George didn’t give you the chance to ask. He waved and walked away, his stomach churning with disappointment.

The Great Hall was transformed into a winter wonderland. Twinkling lights hung from the ceiling, and the enchanted orchestra played a cheerful waltz. George stood near the punch bowl, barely listening to Fred's jokes as he watched you arrive.

You looked breathtaking in your dress robes, and for a moment, George forgot how to breathe. You were walking arm-in-arm with Harry, laughing at something he said. The sight made George’s chest ache.

"You’re staring again," Fred said, nudging him.

"Shut up," George muttered.

"Why don’t you just talk to her?" Fred asked. "She’s with Harry as a friend, isn’t she?"

"Doesn’t matter," George said, grabbing a glass of punch. "She’s already here with someone else."

Fred sighed but didn’t press further.

As the evening went on, George tried to distract himself by dancing with Angelina and joking with Lee Jordan. But his eyes kept drifting to you. You were dancing with Harry, your laughter lighting up the room.

Finally, George couldn’t take it anymore. When you stepped off the dance floor for a moment, he followed.

"Y/N," he called softly, catching you by the refreshment table.

You turned, surprised but smiling. "Hey, George. Having fun?"

"Not really," he admitted, his voice low.

You frowned. "Why not?"

He hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Because I made a mistake."

Your brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I should’ve asked you to the ball sooner," he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I wanted to—Merlin, I’ve wanted to for ages. But I waited too long, and now…"

Your eyes widened, and you stared at him, speechless.

George ran a hand through his hair. "I like you, Y/N. A lot. And seeing you with Harry, even just as friends… it’s driving me mad."

"George," you said softly, your voice trembling. "I didn’t think you felt that way. If I had known…"

He stepped closer, his heart pounding. "Is it too late? Tell me it’s not too late."

For a moment, you didn’t say anything. Then, slowly, you smiled.

"It’s not too late," you whispered.

Relief flooded through George, and he couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face. "Come dance with me," he said, holding out his hand.

"What about Harry?" you asked, glancing back at the dance floor.

George smirked. "Harry will understand."

You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand in his. George led you onto the dance floor, and as he pulled you close, everything else faded away.

The rest of the night felt like a dream. You danced with George until your feet ached, laughing as he twirled you around. His hand never left yours, and the warmth in his eyes made your heart race.

As the final song of the night played, George leaned down, his forehead brushing against yours. "You look beautiful tonight," he murmured.

You blushed, your fingers tightening around his. "I’ve always thought you were charming, George Weasley."

He grinned, his eyes sparkling. "Charming enough for a second date?"

You laughed. "Absolutely."

As the music swelled around you, George pulled you closer, and you knew this was the start of something magical.

Thank you for reading!

[amiaclone]

hellu! i love ur works if it’s alright could i request a Se-Mi ( player 380 ) x dying reader who sacrifices themself

Thank you! And yeah I will

It was lights out and people from one side and the other were killing each other you were a X but luckily found a hiding spot and nobody seemed to be attacking you

However you were looking for someone

Se-Mi your girlfriend…..where is she?

You and Se-Mi met a bit before these games she was always protecting you

Now you need to protect her

You headed out slowly trying to avoid random dead bodies hitting you everywhere you went the second the lights hit for a second you ran to her bed

You saw Nam-Gyu and….Se-Mi! You ran over she seemed very badly bruised just as he was about to slit her neck you jumped on top of him

He grunted and tried to prey his attacker off him Se-Mi was badly weakened so she couldn’t get up to help but she stared at you trying to reach for a potential weapon around barely

Nam-Gyu finally got you off him flinging your body like it was a rag doll grabbing the fork and stabbed your finger

You winced in pain then proceeded to kick him off you and tried to grab the fork

Se-Mi got up barely and kicked him which retaliated to him pushing her weakened body off him

“Oh you think you’re so tough?” *He gritted his teeth at Se-Mi*

“Well let’s see how you like it when a forks up your eye-“ *He shoves the fork down her eye but it wasn’t Se-Mis eye*

It was your eye you pushed the fork off grabbing it out of your eye but you already lost a lot of blood

Nam-Gyu gritted his teeth “Whatever atleast you lost someone”

He quickly headed out and Se-Mi immediately rushed to your side

“Oh my god y/n!” *She attempted to stop the bleeding with whatever she had you winced*

“Sorry…” *Is all you could mutter with your strength*

“Wish we could of…..won these games together”

“No! Stay with me….guards! Anyone!!” *Se-Mi screamed holding you trying to find anyone it’s like it was just her nobody seemed to listen…..*

“I love you Se-Mi….”

Soo bad ending ig? Sorry if it was short but I hope it was worth ittt!

[etherealstar-writes]

I WANNA BE YOURS | WOSO X READER | PT 13

pairings: woso x reader

summary: in which you're accidentally added to a random group chat, not knowing they're all actually famous footballers, and obliviously end up having many of them competing for your love and attention.

part: thirteen

part one here

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

liked by ellatoone, alessiarusso99, leahwilliamsonn and 5000 others

yourusername: i'm so proud of you guys!! euros champions wooh!! 🤍💙

lottewubbenmoy: 💙💙

ellatoone: tysm!!

alessiarusso99: 💙💙💙

leahwilliamsonn: nahh what is that photo of me ↳ yourusername: lookin buzzin ↳ ellatoone: buzzin fr

stanwaygeorgia: still can't believe you wore that old rusty metal's jersey instead of mine 😔 ↳ lucybronze: it's because i'm her fav ↳ stanwaygeorgia: you wished

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

(doing a bit of timeskip and let's pretend it's been like around two months since the euros bcuz yeah)

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

THE NATIONAL DIVING TEAM

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ guys look at what leah and i found this morning

stairway YOU GUYS WENT WITHOUT ME ?!

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ well i was gonna offer you but leah said you were busy

stairway WHAT NO I WASNT

willlybum oh well that's so sad

earpsy so this is why you were late to training

willybum i forgot we had training

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ more like wanted to forgot

willybum oi don't expose me like that

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ :)) so how's training going

neev y/n save me from this torture we'll go to nandos together and drag jessie along too

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

neev added flaming hot

flaming hot stoppp not this nickname 😭😭 and we can't go to that nandos place anymore did you two forget? we're banned from last time

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ and who's fault was that miss flaming hot

flaming hot i blame niamh for all that

neev bruh you were literally the one that said you could handle the flaming hot sauce fleming and then practically screamed dramatically about how you were dying which got us kicked out

flaming hot I WAS NOT DRAMATIC AND YOU WERE THE ONE THAT PEER PRESSURED ME IN THE FIRST PLACE

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ it was incredibly funny ngl i mean you couldn't really tell the difference from jessie's face and her national jersey colour

flaming hot stop ittt you two are meanies it literally wasn't that bad i recovered fine

neev um you were literally crying the whole day jessie

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ and we had to buy you like twenty iced drinks for you to finally cool down

look this is you finally calming down after your twelfth drink

neev yeah not our fault you can't handle any spice flaming hot fleming but we're still kidnapping you and taking you to another nandos place tonight

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ we sure are

flaming hot i'm gonna pull a houdini

lotte oooh i wanna come along to nandos!

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ you're very welcome to

stairway me too!

neev absolutely not

stairway excuse you how can lotte come with you guys but not me?!

neev bcuz she isn't annoying like you are

stairway

neev

elton no wayy you guys

willybum oh my god i do not have the effort for this today what is she going to say

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ oh no

the REAL karate kid

ona batlle uh should i be scared?

kie very much

flaming hot what is happening?

stairway

elton did you guys know that you can lick someone's elbow (also known as their wenis) and they can't feel it

lotte righttt of course i needed to know this

flaming hot HELP WHAT 😭😭

neev the fact that i just saw georgia look at me after reading that seriously concerns me

the REAL karate kid unfortunately it's true 😭😭 she licked my wenis

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ ..... yeah i have no words

ona batlle 😭😭

steph what the hell 😭😭

rusty metal i wondered why everyone stopped working out and started looking at each other ella, i do not wanna know why you know that, and can everyone stop trying to lick each other's elbows it's freaking me out 😭😭

kie i'm convinced ella has no thoughts behind those eyes it is just elevator music. on repeat. all day. every day.

stairway i think lucy's wenis needs a licky lick

rusty metal georgia get the hell away from me

elton ALSO if you look at any object near you right now you know in your head what it would feel like when you lick it like the texture and stuff

mccard nahh that's insane i haven't licked everything near me so why would i know how it would feel?

lotte why did i just see rachel and millie taking glances at each other

rusty metal GEARGIA ISTG DONT YOU DARE TAKE A STEP TOWARDS ME CAN YOU ALL PLS STOP TRYING TO LICK THINGS WITH YOUR IMAGINATIONS Y'ALL ARE FESTY OMG 😭😭

esme NAAAHHHHH WHY DID NIAMH ACTUALLY JUST LICK SOME STUFF TO CONFIRM IF SHE IMAGINED IT RIGHT THIS IS SO WRONG 😭😭😭

flaming hot of course she would do that 😭😭

meado

steph is this just a daily occurrence for you guys? is this normal?

door knob i'm sad to admit that it is

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ i'm kinda glad i'm not near any of this rn

flaming hot fr

neev well i wanted to know if my brain was tricking me or not

esme you didn't need to lick it tho mate 😭😭

neev

alex nahh i'm done i'm leaving the gym just saw daly start walking towards bright like she was preparing to lick her i can't witness this today 😭😭

kie why am i not surprised that it's ella that started this again?

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

ona batlle amen to that

steph seconded so glad kyra and charli aren't in this chat to contribute to this chaos omg

flaming hot amen fr 😭

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ omg kyra and cha cha! we need to add em in here too

stairway wait a sec y/n YOURE NOT BRITISH?!

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ nopee lived in england almost all my life but proud aussie here 💪🇦🇺

steph ayeee 🇦🇺

willybum i cannot believe this

elton you're an imposter fr

neev and here we thought you were one of us

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ heyy i am an honourary lioness member isn't like lessi half italian?

thet REAL karate kid yeah?

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ see and she's playing for england i can support both the lionesses and tillies

willybum okay but now that the wsl is starting the more important question is which club do you support?

stairway oh yeah

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ oh uhh i gtg do something really important rn talk to you guys later! bye!

neev y/nnnnn dont forget our nandos!! i'll be waiting!!

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ i won't! better be prepared fleming

flaming hot oh no

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

part fourteen here

[c0tt0nballz]

Jerry Stokes sins

I was a bit tired of seeing the purification/watered down jerry the fandom portrays, so i wanted to make a small compilation of stuff he did to show that he isnt some sweet little angel, but rather just a teenage boy who is easy to manipulate, beware this is all a loser rant and should not be taken seriously, i have not seen the light of day in years

(Ps : thanks to @lame4dogz for the idea :3)

⚠️eltingville club comic spoilers⚠️

Exhibit A :

objectification of women

In various occasions we get to see Jerry thinking of real women in a sexual light, of course this can be just normal teenage boy actions, "boys will be boys" but only because its normal doesnt mean its right, so ill judge him for it

Since the first comic ever of the eltingville we get to see this behavior from him, starting with Tasha Yar

Later on we see him using a crosby playboy magazine, of course the magazine WAS made for this kind of purposes, but owning a playboy magazine and saying "well the models knew what they were modeling for!!" Doesnt make your hands any less dirty

Here he is reading a comic of a character named "vulvanella", same comic that was shown on a separate drawing from Evan Dorkin, it is very obvious she was created for sexual purposes

Lastly and my biggest proof of this exhibit is this panel from "The marathon men", there was nothing sexual going on, and yet Jerry found a way to turn the situation around.

Exhibit B :

Ignoring or joining in the bullying of josh

This exhibit is pretty much the same for all panels so im not gonna get very into it, but i do need to recall that i understand the peer pressure jerry may have gone through, and how some times he questioned if what they were doing was too much or too cruel, but did he ever do anything to fix it? Did he ever apologize or try to satnd up for Josh, not really, having the intention but doing nothing about it doesnt make you a better person, some panels showing this behavior from jerry are the following :

Exhibit C :

Jerry's biggest sin

This one i remark to be the worst thing jerry has ever done, something so huge that he kept for so so long, and that is...

The true identity of GREEDO318

Bill

This is something he could have brought up at any time, yet he didnt, every single time Josh kept ranting about the back and forth battles with GREEDO318, he kept his mouth shut, this is not him trying to save his own ass, this is him ignoring the constant bullying and abuse josh goes through online, this is something i will forever claim is his biggest sin ever.

thank u guyz for staying in my ted talk i hope u liked ittt i love jerry so much he is so silly :3

[sparklyskies0]

good girl!R who has strict parents, bad boy!matt could care less and shows up at her window at like 2 am, just because he missed her

You couldn’t sleep, when you tried you ended up tossing and turning. The sounds of your sheets moving and ruffling filling the room. There was no specific reason for you to be sleepless but here you were, up at 2am reading a book. Your back pressed against the cold headboard, your lamp beside your bed casting a warm dim light in the room.

The whole house was quiet, as expected considering the time. The only possible sounds were the wind and the trees brushing against the side of the house occasionally. As you read and flipped through pages, you heard a sudden thump coming from the side of you. Your head snaps up, glancing at your window that is only partly opened but is covered by your white thin curtains.

Deeming the simple sound nothing you continued to read. Biting at your fingernails as you do so, a bad habit you have. It did not take long for the thumping to persist. You place the book down, throwing your legs over to step out of your bed. You make your way to your window which is where you suspect the sounds to be coming from.

You step in front of it, opening the curtains slightly to look outside. About a second later, matt jumps out slapping his hands against the glass startling you. You jump back, letting out a startled squeal. Matt, begins laughing softly. Reaching his hands pulling up the window, stepping in the room. "oh my god, matt!" you hit him in the chest.

"my heart almost stopped" you say to him. he pulls you in a tight playful embrace, his chin resting on top of your head. "sorry doll" he apologizes, still laughing slightly. "that wasn't funny you scared me" you say

" ah you're fine it's just me" he sways you back and forth. You pull away from the hug, looking at him "why are you here?, matt its 2 in the morning" you say, in a low whisper.

Its not out of the ordinary for matt to sneak into your room in the middle of the night or ever, it's his only way of getting in considering your parents have been on top of you 24/7 since you got together. Your parents have banned him from stepping foot in the house, but who is that stopping? it definitely isn't matt.

"cause why not? i missed you.. for a second i thought your parents shipped you away or somethin" he says, his hands wrapping around your waist. you chuckle at his words. You cant help but smile at him.

"why're you up anyway princess?" he scanned your face, you look so gorgeous in the dark light but also visibly restless. "couldnt sleep.. thought i should catch up on reading" you say simply

The corners of his mouth curling slightly at that, no matter what the case was, you always found time to read. He won't say it out loud but he loved that about you.

"i got somethin that can help with that.." he trails, his head dropping down to kiss on your neck. You let him, biting your lip at the feeling of his soft lips.

You moan softly, subconsciously tilting your head to the side giving him more access. He pulls you closer, flush against him.

His hands trailing down to your sides, caressing your curves, moving down to your ass. He squeezes it gently. Backing you up, till you reach your bed. He brings his face to yours, attaching your lips.

You hum into it, your tongue immediately begging for access.

After a while you pull away from the kiss, your lips already swollen. "my parents are sleeping" you whisper, looking at him.

"then try to be quiet" his voice barely above a whisper against your ear.

ᥫ᭡ Authors note

cute lil blurb

pls send in some more i love ittt

xoxo paris

[rose-petal123]

love love LOVE the shells and tides au and all the designs you have been putting out for ittt waahh… definitely it is on my list of things to draw at some point …. :>

in your king post though you mention the au being no time loops. for my own curiosity, IS there a plot you have in mind? or general story? 👀 or anything ur willing to share?? vv interested…

Hello yes! I do kind of have a storyline of sorts! Mostly basic background info on what the au is about etc.

Mirabelle quite literally found Siffrin hiding under a rock! They are extremely unfamiliar with waters outside of where they come from. They don't know surface customs etc, So Mirabelle teaches them the primary language! Though being merfolk they also can communicate with little whistles and clicks etc. Mirabelle teaches Siffrin a lot about what places are safe etc. The two are basically inseparable until Mira is comfortable with Siffrin swimming off on their own and not getting themself into trouble!

Mirabelle and Siffrin live in a sunken ship together! They both like to collect any trinkets and shells they find! Nille and Bonnie are friends of theirs! (They live in a nearby underwater cave)

When Siffrin is in the middle of becoming fluent in vaugardian, they notice a boat above! Mirabelle explains the concept of humans to them and such. Siffrin, being a curious little fella swims up there and discovers Odile, who's a pirate captain, and Isabeau! Along with the rest of their crew. Siffrin, who likes giving gifts like shells to his friends, starts leaving shells for the crew in attempt to make friends with them. Isabeau starts collecting the shells because Ooo pretty!!

One day Isabeau catches Siffrin putting shells on the deck. They make awkward eye contact with each other and then Sif swims off. Isabeau tells Odile about what he saw, and against Odile's warnings about Sirens, Isabeau decides he's going to try to befriend Siffrin! (Which is very successful)

Isabeau definitely helped in Siffrin's ability to speak fluently. They tend to exchange gifts with each other!

I don't want to make this post ridiculously long so that's what I'll give you for now along with these last couple points of info,

Siffrin introduces Mira to Isa, they become friends

Odile finds out about Isa befriending merfolk and hesitantly over time warms up to them as well.

Odile tells Mirabelle and Siffrin lots of stories! She'll read books to Mirabelle

Siffrin lost their eye protecting Bonnie from a smaller sea monster. Nille killed said sea monster

Mirabelle was given a starfish from Siffrin as a sign of their friendship! Sif has one too! Siffrin also made the bracelet Isabeau has ❤️

Nille found Loop, known as Sandy, while gathering sea urchins with Sif and Bonnie! (I plan to make a mini comic page with this.)

Yes that's right. I made Loop a sassy albino sea urchin named Sandy that can talk. They sit on a crate in the sunken ship and make fun of and or give advice to Mira and Sif.

[stickyyyv4mp]

N.A.I.L.S

Doing this to gojo

MINORS DNI

warning: edging(kinda) nsfw, nicknames like pa,daddy,ma/mami (NOT PROOF READ ND REALLY SHORT)

Gojo satoru x black! Reader

“who came ta make sweet love~? Not me~” you had sung quietly laying on gojo’s lap while he played COD, you continued humming the rest of the song but then you scrolled on you’re instagram (on that iPad you begged gojo for) to see sum nails, they weren’t specifically cute but it made you want to get your nails done. “Pa!” You had said excitedly, but he had ignored you. But you was ganna get what you wanted whether he liked it or not. “Toruuuu” you dragged the last letter of his name, “what ma.” He said eyes glued to the screen smashing buttons on his ps5 controller, “can I get my nails doneee~?” “Y’Ya asking me?” Like he didn’t know you wanted him to pay obviously! “becauseee I need you t’pay for ittt!” He ain’t respond “pleaseeee daddy~? Pretty pretty pretty pleaseee??” You kept going till you heard an annoyed sigh which meant yes. “Go get my wallet off the counter over there” he said eyes still glued to the screen. After you gave him the wallet you basically sprinted though the apartment to the bedroom.

You went to your walk in closet and started to get dressed, you wore this when you came back to the leaving room he had his card out on the coffee table signaling to grab it. “I had already got you a Uber it’s finna be outside.” “Thank you baby!” You said almost sprinting out the house till he stopped you, “ain’t you forgetting sum?” you walked back and gave him a kiss “that’s what I thought. bye I love you” “love you too!”

You came home with these nails with gojo’s  initials on them, “baby I’m home!” You shouted because he wasn’t in the living room anymore, you took off your shoes and walked towards the bedroom seeing him on his phone while the tv plays “Madea's Family Reunion” as he smirked at the little jokes n stuff made on the show you hoped on the bed “wanna see my nails??” “Mhm” he said putting his phone down for a little to take a quick look at your nails barely taking in the details. “Cute” he looked back at his phone, you smacked your lips, “you ain’t even look at ‘em!” You sat against the back board, then you remembered a TikTok trend you had seen! So you decided to try it. You pulled your phone out your purse then dropped the purse on the ground, you unlocked your phone going to TikTok and found to sound. “Baby I need you to stay very still f’me okay?” “Why?” “Just do it!”

You placed your hand on his crotch and started recording while grinding your hand on his shaft, he shifted his head toward putting his phone down trying his best not to move or show any typa weakness, “fuck you doing?” He said with his teeth together, “shhh! I’m recording!” This continued for a good 15 seconds this 15 seconds he noticed how cute your nails really were he also noticed the boner on his pants. You stopped recording and drafted the video. Then you put your phone on charge about to get up then he gripped your Arm and stopped you. “Y’think you can pull shit like that and get away with it?”

“Nghh~! Ohhhh~! F-fuckkkk toruuu!” “Yeaaaa just like that mama~” he had your legs over his shoulders your anklet with his name on it jangling in his ear, “fuckkkk mama give it t’me~” “torruuuu~~!” He pulled out and flipped you over arching your back, bullying his cock in your fat cunt smacking your ass making your brown skin turn a little pink “Yeahhh~ fuck me back ma- shittt!” He yelled feeling his orgasm come close “daddyyyy I’m finna cummm~!” You said with a shaky tone eyes slowly closing and opening “cum f’me baby” your eyes rolled back after y’all both hit that orgasm at the same time.

After fucking for another 1 and a half you were snuggled up to his tated chest drifting to sleep, while he was scrolling through instagram and Pinterest for you some new nail ideas.

Should I do a pt.2?

anywayssss ik its short as I said I really can’t type for dat long cuz my computer broke f’now but I’m telling uu once it fixed ima be boomin!

Bye lovelysss!!

[sethsclearwater]

Hi again!! Loved the Paul head-canon it was EXACTLY how I imagined ittt.

I have a head canon for Seth! If reader was in a pouty/stubborn mood he would definitely be doing anything and everything to make her laugh or even just a tiny smile. 100%!

Like say they’re at a campfire and she’s in a pouty mood and everyone around her obviously notices, he’d be bringing marshmallows to toast and everything (since he’s such a sweetheart) and eventually she’d crack. I meannn who could resist Seth??

-⭐️

this man has my whole heart😭

...

by now the entire pack was well aware that you were not to be fucked with. on the way to the pack's near weekly bonfire at first beach, you and kim had managed to be the butt end of one of jared's never-ending pranks which led to you both getting absolutely soaked by emily's garden hose.

while kim went off on jared for fucking up her hair, seth had quickly found you and pulled you aside so he could swap clothes with you. you weren't entirely sure what made him make that decision but now he was wearing your sweatshorts that were definitely too short for him while you wore his t-shirt and sweatpants that were definitely too big for you.

in your grumpiness, you had plopped down in the sand next to emily and sam who were lost in their own world with each other. you leaned back against one of the many pieces of driftwood while you pouted over your undergarments and hair still being soaked. seth couldn't have minded though, not wasting anytime before he was striding over to you, a golden smile on his face and what looked like all the ingredients to make s'mores in his hands.

you were pretty close to breaking but held up a strong front, arms crossed over your chest with a pout on your face as he came and sat down on the log behind you so he could sit with you between his legs.

he didn't say anything, just sliding one hand over your shoulder to gently massage at the muscle there while he figured out how to get a marshmallow impaled on a stick with his other hand. seth knew how to read you by now and was well aware that asking you what was wrong would only add fuel to the fire so he remained quiet as he successfully impaled the marshmallow and handed the stick to you.

"can you hold this for a sec?" he asked, giving your shoulder another gentle squeeze when you hummed and nodded, still not too interested in talking.

while you held the marshmallow over the fire, seth snapped the graham cracker and chocolate in half with his free hand, the other one still dutifully massaging your shoulder. after a few moments, you allowed your shoulders to drop, letting out a soft sigh as you let yourself lean back into him, resting your head against his thigh.

seth slid his hand up to your hair, gently scratching your scalp and stroking his fingers through your hair while you two silently waited for the marshmallow to toast.

once you both decided it was brown enough, seth slid his free hand over yours, taking the stick from you so he could assemble your s'more for you. you weren't entirely sure how he managed to do it all with one hand but you weren't too concerned, instead basking in the warmth of the fire while seth's fingers continued to work wonders on your scalp.

"for my pretty girl," seth mused after a moment, beaming as he handed you his perfected s'more. you couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips.

you took the s'more from him, sitting up so you could peek over your shoulder and look up at him. he was sporting a soft smile despite the fact that you knew he definitely had to be uncomfortable with the way your soaked shorts were clinging to him, "thank you," you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the wet fabric which had seth letting out a breathy laugh.

"anything to make my pretty girl feel better," he mused, leaning down to press a kiss to your hair, "now can we get outta here? i'm pretty sure i ripped these when i sat down," he said, both of you laughing when you realized how uncomfortable he definitely was.

"yes please," you laughed, allowing him to take your free hand and help you up while you held the s'more with the other, more than happy to snack on it on the short drive back to your apartment.

[riinniies]

|| ITOSHI RIN ||

Plot : Some short stories of Rin and you after marriage, Rin and you from Soulmate AU and red string of fate.

Fluff! Husband rin, Wife you, rin is no longer tsun tsun.. he's growing up guys :'(, and i'm seriously wanted to write smut but its impossible and embarassing idk why..

this is BONUS CHAPPP ! !

Words count : 795

PART ONEEE ! !

PART TWOO ! !

My writings

I hope you like ittt !! <33

BONUS CHAPTER : After the marriage

• A Few Months After

Marrying Rin was a journey full of small surprises. No life is truly perfect, but with Rin, you learn that imperfections make your relationship stronger.

That morning, you were busy in the kitchen trying out a new pancake recipe. The pan in front of you started to smoke, and the pancake batter in it looked more abstract than a perfect circle. Rin appeared at the kitchen doorway, wearing a jogging shirt slightly damp with sweat. He leaned against the doorframe, surveying the messy kitchen.

"Are you experimenting with food or inventing a new weapon?" he teased, folding his arms across his chest.

You rolled your eyes, giving him a look of protest. "I'm trying to make pancakes for us. But clearly, I'm not as good as I thought."

Rin walked closer, peering into the pan on the stove. With his signature deadpan tone, he remarked, "It looks like this pancake has given up on life."

"Then why don’t you help instead of criticizing?" you challenged, glaring at him.

He sighed, took the spatula from your hand, and started making pancakes with surprisingly skilled movements. You watched in silence, slightly confused but impressed.

"You know how to cook?" you finally asked, breaking the silence.

Without looking at you, he replied, "When you live alone long enough, you learn to survive. I don’t like relying on others."

His answer was simple, but somehow, it made you smile.

• One Year After

Your life together had found a comfortable rhythm, even though Rin was often busy with his training schedule. You continued your art projects, which were becoming more recognized. Still, there were simple moments you always cherished together, like that evening.

Rin had just returned from a long training session. You were sitting in the living room, reviewing sketches for an upcoming exhibition. He approached you, looking tired but still making time to come closer.

"What are you drawing this time?" he asked, glancing at your sketchbook.

"Landscapes of the cities we’ve visited," you answered, showing him a few pages.

He studied the drawings carefully. "Why always landscapes? Why not try something more… abstract?"

His question made you look at him, raising an eyebrow. "You like abstract art?"

He gave a small nod.

"Sometimes, things that aren’t clear are more intriguing. Like us when we first met."

You fell silent, realizing how far your relationship had come. Even though Rin wasn’t the best with words, everything he said felt sincere.

• Five Years After

After five years together, your relationship was filled with small routines that made your home feel warmer. Rin often spent his time coaching young players, while you worked from home on commissioned art projects.

One day, Rin came home with a serious expression. You were busy in your studio, working on a large mural you had just started.

"Look at this," he said, placing an invitation on the table.

You picked it up, reading the text on the card. "Best Young Coach Award? Rin, this is amazing!"

He simply nodded, as if it weren’t a big deal. But you knew this recognition meant a lot to him.

"You always underestimate yourself," you said with a smile.

He looked at you and replied calmly, "Because I know someone will always believe in me, even when I’m unsure."

• Ten Years After

Now, you lived in a modest house on the outskirts of the city. Rin had retired from football and focused on mentoring, while you ran a small art studio that also served as a gallery.

You had a five-year-old son who shared his father’s serious demeanor but had a wild imagination that often made you laugh.

One night, after your son had fallen asleep, Rin sat on the back porch with a cup of tea. You joined him, sitting in the chair next to his.

"We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?" he said suddenly, gazing at the stars above.

You turned to him, smiling softly. "Yes. Sometimes I still can’t believe we’ve made it this far."

He looked at you, and for the first time that evening, you saw a deeply genuine smile on his face. "You know, my life has been better since I met you."

You held his hand, feeling the familiar warmth. "I feel the same way, Rin."

In the quiet of the night, under a sky full of stars, you both knew your journey together was far from over. But whatever lay ahead, you were ready to face it as long as you were together.

2nd THE ENDDD!!

|| Thank you (again) for reading my works, i love u guys :'xxx

[kirammanswifey]

《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.

[sunnysoulzz]

Hey chat!! I’ve done this so many times but I’m back yet again looking for a fic :’)

It was a Konig x reader fic, it was INSANELY long, it was abt konig who was a hybrid or smth? He was an octopus and was captured in some sort of lab. Reader worked there was was tasked with feeding him. It started off rocky but they eventually became friends. Then konig decided he wanted to leave and like trapped reader with him. Eventually he let them go and they like- didn’t return for a couple days. Then they returned and found out he was going to be like- killed or smth, so they help him escape, and then they go to a hotel and get freaky.

I thought I followed the author but I mustn’t have because I couldn’t find it anywhere :( if any of you have the link or anything PLEASEEE I BEG YOUUU

HELP MY TUMBLR IT WAS SO GOOD WODBAKSBDKAB I LOVE SLOW BURNS

Edit: WE FOUND ITTT WOOOOO THANK YOU @janedoesmith1010

THE LINK IS HERE vvv

[vintagelacerosette]

Tag game

*peeks from under a rock*

Hi there! It's been awhile & I've missed you all 🫶🏼 Sorry for the absence but I'm back! Hope to stick with it haha

I was tagged by the always incredible & sweetest sweetheart Evie @energievie

Name: Mayn (lol I forgot changed that so spelling fit how it's pronounced)

Age you are mentally: Early 20s

Top 3 fics that came out last year (that you can remember at this point lol):

i'm not the way i was by @sam-loves-seb this is a goddam BEAUTIFUL season 6 Rewrite!! I am living for this fic! Just an astounding & excited for more 🥰

It's from Jen's @wehangout Fast & Furious series! The additional part 2 & 3 came out last year & made me wanna melt!!! These two are freaking edging & teasing me!!! 🥵Bravo Jen! 👏

Headphones Encouraged by Ray @whatthebodygraspsnot an absolute fucking delight & so fun! 😆

Add in any authors who you read all of their things: It's gotta be Jane @captainjowl Jaclyn @crossmydna Kay @goodkwuestion Ling @lingy910y

Fave artist/band/singer/group you discovered last year (has to be new to you, not new): Gotta be Chappell Roan. I wanted her to be my top artist on spotify & get Good Luck, Babe to 1 billion before 2025. We did it besties 🙌🏻

One thing you learnt last year that you’re taking into 2025: Taking your time to figure it out is ok

Was it a good year or bad year? Pretty good at the beginning last my steam at the end tbh

Is there anything superstitious you do to try and continue that vibe or absolutely change it? I was doing manifesting rituals on New moons which was fun but I didn't keep going lol. It was like finger painting with images I was manifesting. It was quiet fun

Fave WIP you're following into this year:

Gotta be

let the bodies do the talkin' by Captain_Jowl

i'm not the way i was by sam_writes_fic

The Blackwing Prophecy by CrossmyDNA

Are you doing any January ‘get healthy’ things? I want to incorporate more body stretching throughout my days like full body stretches, wrist stretching bc I'm working on computers at work & eye stretches to help with strain.

More random questions~~ Did you consider yourself an avid reader before you found fanfic? I really did not! I loved watching TV over reading any day when I was younger! It felt like such a chore especially with my mum basically pushing it on to me so wasn't fun.

But then the TV shows finished & I wanted more! I think my sister introduced me to fanfic.net lol. Unlocked a reading monster! Wasn't until high school when my fave English teacher was like you must read a lot & I was like nah oh wait a minute?!

Do you read books as well as fanfic? Yes or No: fanfic or die

What are you doing to survive this January so far? I am currently on holidays YAAAY 🎉 I went to Korea for the first time & I LOVED ITTT!!! I need to go back asap!! Definitely a money hole ahaha! Now I'm also in Philippines with my fam 🥰

Also if you wanna go under the cut it's a pic of me in a hanbok!

Sooo I'm pretty late just gonna tag some friends that I'm sending hugs & well wished your way 🥰

@lingy910y @look-i-love-u @samantitheos @deedala @michellemisfit @suzy-queued @heymrspatel @burninface @heymrspatel @heymacy @sleepyfacetoughguy @deathclassic @kiennilove @creepkinginc @guinguin1984 @iansw0rld @mybrainismelted @gallapiech @doshiart @ian-galagher @sickness-health-all-that-shit @jrooc @gallawitchxx @gallapiech @andthatisnotfake @kiinard @sweetbee78 @spookygingerr @femboymilkovich @rereadanon @takeyourpillsbitchh @callivich

[thebigoblin]

Ohh you don't know how happy it makes me that you liked this!!! I tried to incorporate your top 3 used tags (at least for sterek) hehe ❤️❤️❤️

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BIRTHDAY TWINSY!!! and why, yes, i have been spoiled lotsss todayy <3 absolutely loving itttt (the fact that i'm home for birthday just absolutely makes today 1000× better, honestly).

Hoping you have a great, comfortable, and lovely day today and the year forward!!!!

Then, Now, Tomorrow

for @greyhavenisback. a mini-fic to celebrate your birthday! miss talking to you as we once used to but i'm forever glad that at least we got to know each other ❤️ real life might come in between, but it doesn't mean this reel life is forgotten! Right?!

Tags: Future Fic, as in somehow canon yet not related to that movie in any shape or form, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Fluff, Light Angst, in regards to Derek's Sad Past, Attempt at Humor, Let Derek Hale Be Happy 2023

"Oh, man, that was so fun!"

Derek catches him when he stumbles, his arms wrapped tight around Stiles' waist, and he laughs.

"You're so strong, dude," he says, admiring the way Derek's biceps flex under his sinfully tight shirt.

Derek puts him on the couch, but doesn't bother separating from him. Just says, "Thanks, Sparky," and gives him a look when he pouts.

Stiles rolls his eyes and mutters, "Dick."

"Big dick," Derek corrects, and it's so deadpan and so unexpected, Stiles nearly falls off of the couch, laughing so hard his stomach hurts and his eyes shut close. Soon, Derek joins him in laughing, and Stiles loves that sound, of Derek's happiness, his joy radiating in waves around them. Stiles wishes to sink down in it, to anchor himself to it, to stay here forever and ever, listening to Derek laugh, beautiful in his rawest emotions, finally free of shackles of misplaced guilt and justified grief.

"Be like this forever?" Stiles asks, admiring the curve of Derek's lips, the dip and rise of his chest, which comes to a breathy halt at his question. "Please?"

Derek's face morphs into confusion, frown replacing smile, and Stiles hates it. Wants to remove, change it back — take back his words, just to listen to that musical sound.

"No, no, no," he mutters to himself, "Stupid Stiles." He brings his hands up, waits until he's got Derek's puzzled acceptance of touching him on his cheeks, then stretches his lips until it's a smile.

"Smile? You want me to smile?"

"Nuh uh, I want you to be happy," he stresses the word, hopes the weight of his wish on it makes it true. "Happy Derek is good, so good, I want you to be happy Derek. No, ecas- no, ecstatic! Ecstatic Derek!"

Derek smiles, then, a real one, his bunny teeth showing and his eyes crinkling. Stiles' hands are still on his face, their legs a tangled mess on the couch, feet up and under each other's, the warmth of their closeness comfortable and welcome. Derek takes his hands, puts them down on a thigh — in his drunken state he can't really make out whose thigh it is — and comes close, so close, Stiles can count his eyelashes if he wants to.

He does.

He's on number thirteen when Derek huffs out a laughter, mutters a, "You're unbelievable," and presses their forehead together.

Stiles tries to fight him off. "No! Noooo, Der, I was counting your eyelashes!"

His hands don't try to push Derek off of him, because he doesn't want to be away from this embrace, but he still is bummed out and tries valiantly to not feel like he's in heaven when Derek giggles.

"You're so unbelievable," Derek says again, and Stiles, whose eyes had closed, opens them, just to see Derek staring at him. His eyes are the most gorgeous eyes he's ever seen; they have the green of the forest, the blue of the oceans, the golden of the sun, and the grey of the moon.

"You're so pretty," Stiles tells Derek sincerely, and moves so that his and Derek's foreheads separate, the distance between them just enough to witness Derek's cheeks and tip of ears burning a soft pink. "I want to kiss you so bad."

The soft pink turns a deeper red. "Stiles, we can't. Not when you're not in your right mind."

"All of my minds and my hearts would want you, ecstatic and pretty and you." Stiles tries to move his hand, and after a little delay — where are his hands?! — he does, and when he does, he puts one on Derek's cheeks again. Makes his open mouth close. "Is that a surprise for you, Big Guy? That I want you?"

Derek has no answer for it. But he insists, "We can't. Not now."

Stiles pushes Derek onto his back, and pliant under his ministrations, Derek goes. He won't say no — not to Stiles.

And Stiles hates it.

"We are going to cuddle," Stiles explains, once Derek is on his back, eyes locked onto Stiles', who is still sitting upright, his knees planted on the left side of Derek's hips. "I've always wanted to know if your chest can be a pillow. Like, it feels and looks so hard, but can it be a pillow too?" Derek doesn't say a word, just stares, and stares, and stares.

Stiles' heart breaks.

"Der," he whispers, and makes sure to keep all his limbs to himself, no part of him touching Derek's. He's cognizant enough to realize what's wrong here, and damn it if he's going to ruin Derek's great night out.

He heard Derek giggle today, no way is he going to ruin that.

"Derek, I want you to be happy. And if that means making me sad, then so be it. If your happiness lies in breaking my heart and breaking me apart, not doing what I want, then so be it. I want you to be happy. And know this: my happiness? It lies in you doing what you want."

Derek stares, and after a beat, he shakes his head, as if dislodging his previous, tumultuous thoughts. Then he says, "You somehow still make sense when you're drunk."

He sounds so sincerely puzzled, it makes Stiles laugh.

And it's that thought all over again when Derek starts laughing too: he wants to sink here, in this one moment alone, anchor himself to it until there's nothing but him and Derek on all his horizons.

Stiles wants so much, so little, too much: he wants himself to finally confess, he wants Derek to be himself, he wants Derek to be happy, whatever it takes.

And apparently what it takes is this — Stiles, almost asleep on Derek's soft yet hard chest, Derek's fingers in his hair, carding through it slowly, meticulously. Stiles' eyes closed, his breath on Derek's neck, Derek's on his hair, their bodies intertwined on the couch. Derek, voice the tiniest whisper, a wish, a hope:

"My happiness lies with you, Stiles. Having you by my side, this moment, tomorrow, hopefully forever. In whatever way you'll have me."

Stiles hears it, but sleep has him, so the only thing he does is smile against Derek's chest. Perhaps he feels it, because Derek's other hand squeezes his waist, a physical gesture of holding on to these words of today, tomorrow, and forever.

Stiles sinks into Derek's embrace, into that promise, into that night, and several years later he finds himself surprised still at the fact that it wasn't all a dream, but the first nights of many like that. Of them together, intertwined, each other's, happy and giggling and together.

Together then, now, tomorrow.

[ateezscupid]

hwas part NEEDS to be a ff

HELP HELP HELP i just saw this now, i was hoping someone asked 😭. and i’m so so sorry for seeing this late, the notification did NOT come in. i also changed it up a bit, hope you like ittt!

precious ✩ 𝗌𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗐𝖺 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

plot - seonghwa cant focus when you overstim him during work.

genre - smut and fluff (if you squint)

warnings - switch!hwa x switch f!reader, sugar daddy!hwa, non!idol au, oral (both), facesitting, begging, masturbation, praising and degrading, fingering (f receiving), use of toys, dirty talk, pet names

wc - 3.5k

“do you have to go in today?” you crawl to the edge of the bed and pout. you hated waking up late to see your boyfriend already dressed and ready for work. not only would you be home alone for most of the day, but it would be like this monday through friday. honestly, it was expected. dating a man who was the CEO of a major tech company, you should’ve seen this coming.

“i don’t have to work that much today, so you don’t need to wait too long, baby.” seonghwa said as he buttoned his shirt. you could lie, though. he looked hot in a shit and tie.

“okay… what time do you think you’ll be coming home? i found this movie i wanna watch-“

“just because i said i’d be home early doesn’t mean i’ll stop working. i mean, i know i said i didn’t have to work they much but i still need to send and respond to emails. that and i have a whole bunch of people who i need to supervise or have interviews and meetings with. my schedule today is very… booked.” hwa turns to you with a frown.

“so you won’t be free at all today? not even for a second? are you even gonna stop and have lunch? you’re always working and it leaves me home alone. why cant you work from home like me?” this wouldn’t be the first time you tried convincing him to work from home.

“how many times are you going to ask me that and how many times am i going to say i can’t?” he chuckled at your cuteness. seonghwa walks over to you and places a hand on your cheek, kissing your forehead to try and stop you’re complaining. he’s gotten used to it, but he still felt bad whenever he left to get into his car.

“i still think it’s worth trying.” you finally get off of the bed and stand behind him, peeking over his shoulder to watch him fix his tie. you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your cheek against his back.

“can i at least get a kiss goodbye?” you pour. seonghwa looked at you through the mirror and chuckles.

“love, you know if i start kissing you, i won’t be able to stop.”

“then don’t.” you reply. “i know you stop at dunkin’ donuts before you get on the highway, which means you leave twenty minutes earlier than you should. we have twenty minutes.”

“how the hell did you know i stop at—did you put a tracker on my phone again?” he chuckled, obviously not weirded out but flattered.

“no! i keep seeing dunkin’ donuts gift cards all over the place.” you let go of him. “and i checked your purchases on your card, nothing major.”

seonghwa turned to you and started laughing. you were so cute, he couldn’t deny your request. and you weren’t wrong, he was stopping at dunkin’ donuts before he actually had to get on the road and go to work. he places his hands on your shoulders.

“alright, twenty minutes. and after, we can try that idea you’ve always wanted to do.” he smiles and gently pushed you into the bed, making you lay on your back.

“the toy idea? see, i wanted to get one of those plugs for your prostate but i saw a cock ring that vibrated so i had to go for the second option!” you cheekily smile.

“you were about to buy me a butt plug?” hwa asked as he was undoing his tie.

“i wasn’t about to, i did.” you giggle. “if you don’t want it, i’ll take it. or you could give it to one of your horny little friends. i mean wooyoung.”

“no no, i’ll try it out. that fact that those four words willingly came out of my mouth says i don’t mind.”

that’s another thing you loved about seonghwa. he wasn’t afraid to try anything new, even if it was embarrassing. you did ask if he wanted to try wearing fishnets and he said no, but at least he gave it a bit of thought before turning down the ides when it was presented to him. all he wanted was to make you happy.

as if getting you multiple credit and debit cards wasn’t enough, he’d go out of his way to buy you things he knew you’d like. for example, those diamond earrings you two saw in the mall that one day. you didn’t bring them up again after, but he saw the way you looked at them. you wanted them. you were fully aware seonghwa was loaded, but you didn’t take advantage of that.

the only things you’ve spent a ton of money on is birthday parties, gifts and fancies, and clothes. most of the clothes and gifts were for you, but the rest were for seonghwa. it was your way of saying thank you for everything he’s done.

“seventeen minutes left.” you blurt out. “i know what we can do, or what i can do, let me suck you off!” you smile wide.

“or i could eat you out. i know i haven’t done it in a while and you seem to love my tongue.” hwa said as he stepped closer to you, messing with the strands of the tank top you had on.

“i think you have an obsession with eating me out, seonghwa.” you grab onto his shirt and pulled him over top of you, pecking him on the lips. “but i’m not completely against it.”

“oh? then sit on my face.” he tilts his head with a smile. “i’ll go easy on you since i know you have a meeting today. i don’t want you to be tired.”

“aw, you’re too kind.” his words make you blush. you sit up and scoot back on the bed. seonghwa kicked his shoes off and got on the bed next to you, laying on his back and pulling you over top of him. he grabs your hips and makes sure you were directly over his mouth. he looked hungry just looking at you.

luckily, you only wore a tank top and underwear to bed. he shifts your panties to the side and lowers your hips onto his face, earning a moan from you. you hold onto the headboard of your bed once you feel his tongue lick at your folds. now you’re desperately clinging onto the headboard trying to keep yourself stable.

the way he worked his tongue made you cry out in pleasure, lips wrapped around your clit with his tongue licking against the sensitive bud. your hand flew down and grabbed a handful of his hair, grinding your hips onto his mouth for more friction.

“mm, h-hwa…” you moaned, throwing your head back when two fingers started prodding at your hole. you needed to get away from his face, otherwise you’d squirt on him. you don’t want to do that.

“seonghwa, wai—“ before you could finish, his fingers entered you. he wasted no time pushing and pulling his fingers, curling them to hit the sensitive spots inside of you. your back arched and your thighs squeezed against his face. you were so close already, you needed to let go. he hummed against your heat, sending vibrations through your core.

you look down at him, making eye contact. his pretty brown orbs, you couldn’t help but think he looked adorable while trying to make you cum. as demanding and strict he was sometimes, he was soft when it came to you. of course he had his moments where he’d fuck you so hard, you actually thought he broke your back, but overall he was a big softie who wanted nothing more but to hear your pretty moans.

“hwa, i-i’m close!” you whimper, now gripping handfuls of his hair with both of your hands. you’re surprised how he didn’t have any bald spots yet because when you pull, you pull hard. it didn’t seem to bother him though.

“cum, baby, please.” he huffed against your pussy, continuing to finger you as you moved your hips back and forth to try and cum faster. and then, it happened. you came all over his fingers. seonghwa put his mouth back on you to lick up all of your juices, making sure not to miss a single drop as you came.

you felt like you were levitating once you did. he always managed to make you cum super hard, and he’d lick up what came out. it didn’t matter if he busted his load in you or not, he just wanted to eat you out.

your body almost flips onto his when coming down from your high. gently, seonghwa brings your body down and rests you on his lap, rubbing your back to calm you down. you two didn’t have much time for after care, but you didn’t mind this time. in fact, you were too lightheaded to even realize.

“you eat me out like a starved man…” you huffed, falling into him and breathing heavily on his chest. “i can’t even feel my legs all the way.”

“you’re adorable.” he kisses your forehead and sits up slowly not to startle you. “you still wanna use the toys on me?”

your head perked up upon hearing those words. then, you stood as if the feeling in your legs came back instantly. you get off of the bed and rush over to your side of the closet, grabbing a small black plastic bag that hung on the back of it. you take out a plug and a cocking, then the two remotes that go with it. seonghwa seemed nervous just looking at the toys, but he wasn’t one to judge a book by its cover.

“you’re still okay with using these, right?” you ask. he nods his head quickly and scoots to the edge of the bed. he was definitely happy, so there was that.

“alright, bend over.”

he was a taken aback from hearing those words from from you, but it obviously wasn’t the first time he’s heard them. he does so without word, moving his pants and boxers down enough so you could put the toys on him. he was already semi-hard.

you grab a small bottle of lube from your nightstand and open it, squeezing some onto the plug first. you giggle and press it against him before pushing it inside. he thought you were lying when you said it stimulated your prostate. his body jolts forward, a moan coming from his parted lips and you couldn’t help but giggle. it must’ve been pressing on it roughly for him to respond like that.

then the cockring. you grab his erection from behind gently put the ring around him. hwa forgot how tight the rings were since he hadn’t worn one in a long time. he definitely needed to dress casually today. a suit wasn’t going to help him conceal this at all. he didn’t want to feel his pants getting tight while talking to his co-workers.

“okay, now to test the vibrator part to make sure they work!” you say as you look at the remotes in your free hand. now holding one in each, you look at the plug vibrator. you giggle a bit before turning it up to three.

seonghwa didn’t even bother trying to stay up. he fell to his knees, his arms still resting on the mattress as his entire body trembled. the new sensation was a bit different than before.

“holy fucking—“ he began, closing his eyes as his chest began heaving up and down. “fuck fuck fuck, oh my fucking god.”

“it’s not even at the highest setting!” you laugh. “you wanna test the highest setting?”

“please, i just wanna—shitshitshitshit!” he grips the bed sheets once his plug is at the top speed. he didn’t even try silencing his moans, he felt like he was going crazy. he hid his face in his arms and arched his back, shaking his head as if he were telling you to turn it down, and you did. he fell limp, panting heavily.

“you still want me to try the ring-“

“please, oh my god..” he whined. you happily oblige and look at the remote for the cockring, turning it to the top speed. you saw him reach down, holding his cock in his hands when he felt the vibrations. he was semi-hard, but now he’s red and pulsing. that was quicker than you imagined.

“b-baby, get…get my lounge outfit, please.” he huffs. you turn the vibrations off and walk over toward the closet. you grab the black hoodie and grey sweatpants he was talking about, rushing back over and sitting them on the bed in front of them.

“you look like a whore down there.” you giggle. “using these toys are gonna be fun!”

“y/n, oh my gosh.” seonghwa moaned into his hand. he thought he would be able to handle both vibrators at once, but he was terribly mistaken.

“hmm?” you hum into the phone, swaying back and forth. you were in the kitchen making cookies for when he got back, while also having the two remotes placed next to you. the ring’s speed was at 5, while his plug was at a 6. it was only a matter of time until you put them both at ten.

“i cant focus when you have these—please just come down here. i’m begging you.” he whimpers into the phone. you didn’t say anything as you dumped a bag of chocolate chips into a bowl.

“y/n, p-please.” hwa begged. he’s been begging for the past two hours. begging for you to come to his workplace and fuck the shit out of him, and begging for his release. the orgasm denial part wasn’t even your choice, it was his. he only made it harder on himself.

“give me a good reason to go down there and maybe i will.” you looked at your phone, grabbing a spoon and mixing the ingredients in your bowl.

“i-if you come… i’ll—fuck,” he couldn’t even finish his sentences. the sensation was making him feel lightheaded. he needed to push through this. “if you come, i-i’ll take a week off j-just for you.”

“a week? that’s generous.” you say, pushing your phone away from you and getting ready to roll up the cookie dough. on the other side of the phone, you heard seonghwa shuffling around at his desk. it was clear he was struggling to sit still. you couldn’t blame him since he did have a vibrator inside of him.

“baby, please, can i at least touch myself…” he asked as he continued to shift around in his seat. that made you laugh.

“i thought you needed to focus on something? you said you needed to focus.”

“i’m trying to focus on not driving home right this second and pinning you to the bed.” seonghwa mumbled. you heard this and went quiet. he went quiet as well, which was enough to tell you he knew he was wrong. you click your tongue and nod slowly, walking toward the sink and beginning to wash your hands.

“y-y/n?” he spoke. he was so adorable. hwa cleared his throat to try and distract himself from what he said, acting as if he was looking at something else. “i-i think i’m fine—“

you turned both of the vibrators up to ten.you took the two remotes and brought them to the bedroom, putting them in a drawer then walking back into the living room. you were waiting for seonghwa to act up to do that.

“you okay, hwa?” you ask into the phone, hearing his whimpers and moans as he grips onto the desk in front of him.

“f-fuck, i’m sorry i’m so sorry, t-turn them down, please!” he pushed his chair back and lurched forward, shuddering trying to control himself. he failed miserably. his pants were tightening around him, even though he was wearing sweats, and his body was heating up faster than before. he felt like he was going to explode.

“i’ll be there in thirty minutes.” you say before hanging up.

seonghwa looked around his office for some sort of relief. he needed to do something. he knew you weren’t going to allow him to touch himself, but you never said he couldn’t—

“the couch.” he mumbles. he was going to hump the couch. he scrambled out of his chair and rushed toward the windows that see through his office, rolling the blinds down and flipping the sign in front to “do not disturb”. he was glad he hadn’t gotten rid of that sign.

seonghwa walked over to his sofa and grabbed a pillow, placing it down then laying down so his waist was right on the pillow. he pulls his pants down then his boxers, positioning himself then lowering himself onto the pillow. he let out a sigh of relief once he felt the soft fabric of the pillow touch his throbbing erection. it was painful even moving, so he hoped this would help him.

he didn’t wait to start thrusting wildly onto the pillow, his fist on the armrest of the couch and his forehead resting on it. he was so horny, he couldn’t even think. his hips stuttered, not just because he was already close to release, but because of the butt plug and cockring working simultaneously to drive him crazy.

“y/n…” he moans your name, now with one hand gripping the armrest and the other holding the pillow in place. he needed to cum. he didn’t care if he got it in the couch or not, he needed to let go. it was painful holding it in, and even worse that he was being stimulated while sensitive.

“f-fuck, so close… s-so close,” he mutters to himself, eyes shut tight with his chest heaving up and down. all he needed to do was cum and all of this would be over. or, it would be over once you came.

before he was able to cum, you barged into his office and shut the door behind you, pulling him up by his hair and causing him to halt his movement. you’ve never seen him this desperate before.”

“seonghwa… look at you,” you chuckle quietly. “humping your pillow like a pathetic slut. you couldn’t even wait thirty minutes.”

“p-please, y/n i cant…” his glossy eyes look into yours. “touch me, p-please please please. i’ll be good, just please.”

“hm. you want me to touch you, pretty boy?” you raise your eyebrow then sit down on the sofa next to him. he struggles to even sit up, scooting closer and shoving his face into your neck. you get off the couch and crouch down in front of him, curling your fingers around his cock and admiring it. it was red and veiny, pulsing as if it was telling you to suck it off.

you loved how seonghwa’s body set off every sensor in your body. yeah, you loved taking control of him, but whenever you had the chance you couldn’t help but feel like you were slipping into sub space. his moans were so cute, you’d get drunk off of them.

opening your mouth, you enveloped his tip with your lips, causing his body to jerk and his hips to thrust up into your mouth. he pushed his cock further into your mouth, and you happily took him down your throat.

“g-god, your mouth…” he entangled his fingers in your hair, moaning loudly. he didn’t care about his coworkers hearing him anymore, he needed some sort of relief.

“you’re driving me crazy, y/n.” he whimpered. you bring your head back up and use both of your hands to wrap around his member. not even a second later, you were sucking him off as if you were in a porno. you were getting into it without giving him time to prepare.

“mm, my p-pretty girl,” seonghwa whimpers as he approaches his climax. his moans became louder and the grip on your head getting tighter. “y-you’re such a slut for me.”

then, seonghwa’s back arched. he placed both of his hands on the sofa and gripped onto the couch cushions, hips digging back into it as he moaned. you felt your mouth full with his juices. he was in complete ecstasy when you looked up, face flushed and his jaw hung. his thighs shook underneath you as he emptied his load inside your mouth.

it was tingly, it was good, and he felt like you were milking him dry. and as you swallowed his mess, your hand grazed his shaky thigh gently as a way to calm him down. he didn’t have a clue whether to keep his mouth open or close it. his orgasm was so powerful, his mind went blank.

“p-please, please please please…” seonghwa begs silently, chest heaving. “you’re so good, so so good for me. i love you, princess.”

you take your mouth off of his length and smile, finally getting up and pecking him on the lips.

“i love you too, my prince.”

@cup1dtiny ✩ #cupids requests !!

[qui-gg]

opinion on the bog ii 🤖🤖🤖

I’ll assume you mean bot and answer accordingly

(Drops art i havent shared and wasnt really planning to. But its appropriate for the things ill talk about yay)

Fun fact i didn’t really have a strong opinion of bots character for a while but then one day i woke up and went “I have an idea for a gjinka” and it caused me to get into their character and now its like my fav gjinka to draw

(Some fun facts about that gjinka design: their head is completely magnetic, and their “hair” is a set of completely removable accessories so their natural state is bald, they can add as much or as little as they want. Also they continue to wear a little pink because i was thinking of the “I can still like chocolate cake” line- they can still like pink too)

I LOVE BOT. Even though i have thoughts and opinions about the iffy nature they were implemented overall i love the concept of a character who was made to be someone else and theyve given me a lot to chew on which i appreciate with a character. What really fascinates me about them is how their interactions with other characters play out so id like to talk more about that⬇️

Their relationship with Cabby was what caused me to create the gjinka design in the first place, and then I found a song that made me think of them and i was like Wow. Bot and cabby’s initial impressions of one another being somewhat at odds due to miscommunication but ultimately other factors (cabby’s disability and bot’s suppression of their fake memory- wow they both have memory issues!) was something that lasted a while but then iii14 saw the end of bot’s assumptions of her being strained when they finally had the chance to actually talk with one another. Bot assumed that Cabby was obsessed with finding a way to explain their existence and identity which they very much felt didn’t need an explanation for who they were, but they realized this is only the way cabby processes the world around her they both place importance on identity both with not knowing their pasts and carving a way for their futures the way they are and they can do it together agh i love ittt

Here my gjinkas of them with an outfit styleswap

One day i kind of started placing suitcase in bots position to cabby though and i just think about their potential relationship primarily now though LMAO but thats unrelated

With fan and test tube I had stronger opinions about how the circumstances/reasons behind creating them weren’t strong enough and it caused both of their characters to backslide from where they were in ii14 but now i like to look at it and take what i can get from it because i like it when characters do bad and questionable things its interesting to analyze why they did something so selfish. In fan’s case he didnt have a strong connection with bow’s death when it happened beyond being a fan of her bc of his low empathy at the time especially he didnt process it as Death, and he believes he knows everything about bow as the number1 fan so now hes the best person for the job, and test tube coldly decides to recreate the image of a person under the idea shes now using her strengths for a good cause, but shes wrong and she has to learn shes wrong. Theyre not bot’s parents- but it’s easiest for them to describe them that way, since they created them, but that’s not quite how their relationship is at all. Bot has no real familial ties with them, and test tube created them with the sold intention of being somebody other than they are, so that’s always going to stick with them and theyre not just a blindly happy family now. Bot is also a grown adult that doesnt just go away they shouldn’t be infantilized so much. They can be friends with fan and test tube because they now recognize them as Bot but honestly theyd prefer keeping a distance when they can because they wish they were made intentionally or were just a person, but they appreciate being created. Its a pretty unique situation

What really fascinates me the most though is the concepts of how they are in relation to Bow, with the concept of being created as a replication of someone who already exists being so terrifying for both involved. In Bot’s perspective, their conscious is being repressed intentionally to continue living someone else’s life who they never even knew and doesnt identify with. And everyone is acting like its fine and okay when theyre the only one who seems to see how scary this is. They just struggle to grasp with their very existence with the only thing to guide them being a paragraph of a character description and to spew references that dont make sense. In BOWS perspective, she was a celebrity and the most popular contestant in the first season of a reality show, and even after dying on it the fans just screamed for her to “come back” though it was impossible. So her likeness kept getting replicated by both the show (doughs inclusion) and fans (bots creation) who both misrepresented her and she could do nothing but watch it play out. Her death was being denied and other people were living her life just because she was popular on a show, it’s terrifying. Terrifying and despair inducing for both of them theyd both have a disdain for one another on an existential degree, and bot finding their identity is freeing for both of them.

Lifetime achievement award made me insane abt this thanks panks

:D ive talked long enough so thanks for reading this far if you made ittt ! More art