Quiet Submissive の小説・ストーリー

"I apologize for my sudden behaviour, miss." With the last menacing glare, the lady walks off. Oddly, she could feel the change in the air, moisture in the air, cooling the place a little bit. Being awed with the world, kaylene looking around, unsure if the lady walking off means she should trailing right in her hips, or just sit there, waiting in silence.

”Alright,” I say as I rise to my feet. My ass nearly brushes Aiden’s face as I stand—he’s been silently watching all this unfold, observing like it’s a science experiment and we’re the lab rats. Like he’s gathering data to weaponize later. He's always like this. Never loud, always the calm, quiet, brooding one. The most dangerous one. “It reeks of testosterone in here,” I say with disgust, flipping my hair over one shoulder. “Maybe instead of fighting over me, one of you could just ask me nicely.”

Just folds into the covers and turns away. I stand for a bit too long, staring. She looks... smaller. Not physically. Just... smaller. No fight. No edge. Just this quiet surrender that doesn’t sit right. Not with me.

I grumbled. "How can you handle them? They're so quiet, no food, no drinks, surrounded by a bunch of old books and you can't talk properly." Quinn complained. "Quietness isn't necessarily a bad thing, Quinn." I drawled. "You don't have to fill every moment with some kind of sound." "What is wrong with you, woman?" they chimed again. I smacked them both in the arm and pouted. "There's nothing wrong with liking a bit of peace and quiet every now and then."

Theo’s POV She’s gone quiet in that particular way that tells me exactly where her head’s at. That hazy, floaty place where her body moves because she trusts us to guide it, to use it, to care for it. She’s no longer trying to shift control with subtle pushes or clever little tricks. That sharp edge of teasing submission is gone, melted down into something softer, deeper. She’s slipped, completely and beautifully, into her subspace.

"He does." I roll my eyes, ignoring the tease. Mia's been on this kick for months, reading into every quiet gesture like it's a romance novel. Silas is Silas. Solid as the walls he built for Lulu's pen. Quiet as the jazz he plays on slow nights. He doesn't do small talk, doesn't do drama. Just shows up, fixes what's broken, and fades back. It's comforting, in a way that sneaks up on you.

Fate does not register it. I do. Hesitation is not variance. It is potential. It exists only for those positioned close enough to notice it. People hesitate when they choose not to act. She does not speak. She does not look toward the space I occupy. Whatever passes through her leaves no visible mark beyond a slight stillness in her posture, a delay measured in breaths rather than seconds. Stillness again. The safest possible response. Then she reaches for her coat. The moment ends. This is the behavior restraint produces. Not chaos. Not defiance. Quiet compliance paired with internal cost.

Her silence. (It fills the room, not empties it.) 13. The way she says ‘fuck’ like a lullaby. 14. Her loyalty to people who don’t deserve it. 15. Her hate for high heels—but she wears them anyway. 16. Her stubbornness. 17. Her love for stupid documentaries. 18. The way she never lets anyone pour her drink. 19. How she flinches when people raise their voice—but never backs down. 20. Her handwriting. 21. Her neck.