#*what can i say. sorry i answered this at like one in the morning my time...

[artmsdoll]

just ask next time ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

a yuma fic based off of this anon req !

content : nsfw writing about yuma (18+, if ur uncomfy pls don't read), yuma x fem reader, both are 18 in this!!, quickie in the bathroom, hickey receiving, ass grabbing, fingering + yuma munch

wc : 1500

a/n : GUYS IM ACC SO SORRY FOR GOING MIA FOR LIKE TWO WEEKS (?) AFTER DROPPING THAT FIRST MAKI FIC💔 THE WRITING BLOCK WAS INSANE BUT IM BACK!! also also tysm for all the support on my first fic!! also this is kinda ass... IM SORRY.. i tried

no one really knew what you and yuma were.

your friends gave up on trying to figure it out months ago. whenever they even bothered asking, you’d just shrug and say something like, “he’s so annoying and immature, i can’t stand him.” and, without fail, you'd always end up mentioning that one time he rejected you in front of everyone… in your first year of middle school. but so what if you’re petty.

and yuma? he’d just roll his eyes and say, “she’s so full of herself, thinking she can get away with things because her face is half-decent.” he remembered that same day in middle school, convinced you only asked him out to embarrass him in front of the whole school. so he rejected you. coldly.

you both swore you hated each other, but your friends saw the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching. and how your tone always changed a bit whenever you talked about him, even if it was negative. somehow, almost every conversation circled back to the other.

“did you see his new hairstyle? blonde? seriously? is he trying to look like an idol or something?” or pointing out when he would purposely roll up his sleeves, loosen his tie, or unbutton his collar and fixing it for him, looking at him dead in the eyes with a smirk while he looked like a deer in headlights.

yuma’s friends had heard enough things like “is she really putting on lip gloss again? who even cares? we’re at school.” a pause. “not like i was looking at her or anything,” to know that if love and hate were a spectrum, you two were so far on the hate side it practically wrapped back around to love. at this point, you loved to hate each other… or hated that you liked each other?

whenever he walked in or out of somewhere at the same time as you, he’d hold the door just long enough to seem polite, then let it slam in your face. or you'd walk past him in class and his books would “accidentally” fall over.

all of this with the shared goal of being a harmless inconvenience to the other… or maybe to stay in the others head…

but this one day, you decided to take it up a notch.

by that, you meant pulling out the skirt you hadn’t worn all semester (and rolling it up), and the button-up shirt that hugged your chest a little too well in all the right ways.

you didn’t even look at him when you walked into school that morning, you didn’t have to. as you passed him in the hallway, you felt his eyes on you and heard him say, “what the hell are you wearing?”

you giggled to yourself and answered with your back and lowk ur ass still to him , “the uniform…. don’t tell me you’ve never seen a skirt before.”

a pause.

 then you heard him mutter, just loud enough for you to hear it, “keep acting like that, and you won’t make it to class.”

you didn’t know if he meant you’d get dress-coded or… something else. either way, you were almost satisfied with your daily yuma teasing.

without thinking, you turned around, smirked, and met his eyes. “oh? is that a promise?”

his eyes darkened. you heard his footsteps. his hand caught your wrist, and before you could say another word, he was dragging you down the hallway to the nearest gender-neutral stall. the door slammed shut. and seconds later, your back hit the cold tiles.

“what’s this all for?” you asked, looking up at him (even though you already knew damn well).

“i could ask you the same thing. trying to get my attention, huh?” his hands rested loosely on your waist.

you giggled. “i can tell it’s working.”

you couldn’t even finish your words when he pulled you in closer and pressed his lips on yours, slightly opening them. he quickly backed off, his hands still on you and slowly making their way up to right under your chest that was tightly pushed up in your blouse.

“tell me to stop.” he whispered, his voice rough.

“no way.” you pulled him back in holding his shirts collar tightly and slightly shifted so you had his thigh in between both of yours. your almost bare cunt that wasn’t covered by safety shorts today, only your pantiest that were supposed to be the wild card here, but i guess he didn’t last until then rested on his leg.

you don’t know what came over him, or you, to finally crack like this but you weren’t mad.

as your kiss turned sloppier, you desperately pulled on his tie to signal you wanted more. 

he slid his warm hands up, palms grazing your chest as he fumbled with your buttons, rushed, messy, like he couldn’t get you uncovered fast enough. his mouth slowly made its way to your tits, placing short kisses all the way down. then he latched on, sucking right below your collarbone until the pressure made you let out a breathy whimper. biting down just enough to make you shiver… just enough to mark you. he pulled back, lips red, his gaze dropping to the blooming mark on your chest. his thumb brushed over it.

his other hand slid down, sneaking under your skirt. to his surprise, there was nothing between his touch and your skin.

“no shorts either?” he smirked.

“now you get it…” you giggled.

that was all the confirmation he needed.

he lifted one of your legs up and tucked your panties to the side.

“let me know if your leg gets tired okay?” his tone softened.

“mhm”

his fingers rubbed over your slick folds, passing his thumb over your clit a few times as your back arched on the cold tiles and you let out a few more whines. with no time to waste, he entered two fingers in your dripping cunt. trying not to make any more noise than you were already making, you pressed your lips on his once more. he fingered you within an inch of your orgasm. 

you don’t know where this sweet side of him was all along, but he couldn't switch up that fast. 

when he could tell you were just about to cum, he pulled out his fingers, gently lowered your leg, shoved his digits in your mouth as he watched you suck on them. 

“please don’t do this to me, this is a form of teasing i will not accept” you almost pleaded, but with that sweet tone. 

“oh i’m not done” he answered, teasing you, as he kneels and picks up your leg once more. you feel him grab the side of your panties as he slowly lowers them. he didn't waste a second to bury his face in your pussy while both of his hands squeezed your ass. moving his tongue in circles, hitting every spot and sucking on your clit lightly. you were almost at your limit, grabbing his hair and throwing your head back. when that knot in your stomach came undone, you felt his warm mouth cleaning up every last drop of your sweet juices. 

you both took a second to catch your breath. 

“how are your knees? i can’t have you do all this for me and not return the favour” you chuckled. 

“don’t worry about me!”

“no i’m serious! we cou-” but the bell cut you off. “oh i guess first periods’ over…” 

“yeah… you could say that we’re even now.” he helps you fix your skirt and your buttons, and then fixes his tie that was now loosely hanging around his neck. “so much for my tie being on wrong… oh and by the way, next time you want something from me, just ask, okay? the principal was talking about giving you those gross gym shorts to change into..” he teased. 

“oh my god..” you felt a little embarrassed now. 

then he quickly kissed your lips again while giving your ass one more squeeze before opening the door and leaving by himself, as if you guys weren’t five minutes away from hitting it raw in the school bathroom. 

you were glad that that was settled… you think.. but now you just wanted more. 

[throttleheart]

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

Upstairs Noise, Downstairs Trouble

Pairing: Lando Norris x Oscar Piastri

Genre: Crack treated seriously, fluff, sugestive, non-descriptive sexual content

Word Count: <1k

Summary: Oscar’s new upstairs neighbor is loud. Not like TV-too-loud or walking-in-boots-at-3AM loud. No — he’s singing-abba-in-the-shower-while-dropping-weights kind of loud. Oscar files a noise complaint. The guy responds with apology gifts — that are somehow worse. Oscar plans to stay annoyed… until he reads the note. Now he’s doomed. Especially when he finally sees him.

⸻

Oscar lives alone. Quietly. Peacefully.

So when someone moves into the flat above and starts sprinting at midnight, blasting music, laughing out loud alone — it ruins him. Literally. Sleep? Gone. Sanity? Hanging by a thread.

He tries earplugs. Noise-cancelling headphones. Rage.

And finally, when the Mamma Mia karaoke starts again on a Tuesday morning at 8:32 AM — he snaps.

To: Building Management

Subject: Formal Noise Complaint – Unit 7B

Hi, sorry — I never do this, but the new tenant in 7B is extremely disruptive. Loud music, late hours, dropping heavy items, etc. Would appreciate if something could be done.

– Oscar Piastri (6B)

He expects silence. What he gets… is worse.

The next day, there’s a knock at his door.

No one’s there — just a box.

Inside:

• A giant chocolate bar. Unopened. Expired.

• A candle that smells like motor oil.

• A pair of socks that say “STOP BEEING SAD” with cartoon bees.

• A folded letter, written in messy black ink.

⸻

Oscar —

Sorry if I’ve been loud. I honestly didn’t realize. New place, new acoustics, apparently a loud voice and heavier feet than I thought. My bad.

I tried to pick stuff to say sorry — not sure if you like chocolate or bees or whatever, but I figured effort counts.

Anyway. I’ll try to bee quieter (haha get it?). Thanks for not just banging on my door or something.

– Lando (Upstairs)

P.S. I swear the weights fell by accident. I’m not that kind of gym guy.

⸻

Oscar stares at it.

Reads it again.

…and again.

He wants to stay mad. But something about the messy writing and dumb socks and the fact that Lando thought this would fix it makes him laugh out loud for the first time in days.

The noise lessens.

But then it starts again — softer this time. A voice. Singing.

Through the ceiling, muffled and low:

“My love is wider than Victoria Lake

Taller than the Empire State

It dives, it jumps

I can't give you more than that

Surely, you want me back”

Oscar rolls his eyes.

But a week later, when they pass each other in the stairwell for the first time — finally, face to face — Oscar’s entire brain short-circuits.

Lando is…

Shaggy-haired, hoodie half-zipped, smiling like he’s already gotten away with something. “Hey — 6B, right?”

Oscar blinks. “Yeah.”

“You must be Oscar.” Lando grins. “Hope the bees helped.”

Oscar stares. “They didn’t.”

Lando laughs.

And Oscar knows — in that split second — he’s so screwed.

⸻

They don’t even touch for weeks after that.

But the tension builds.

Soft greetings turn into lingering ones. They get coffee. Lando gives him a playlist. Oscar pretends not to memorize every track.

And then one night, after a bad day, Oscar knocks.

Lando answers in sweatpants, shirtless, damp curls, blinking like he just came out of the shower. “Everything okay?”

Oscar walks past him. Doesn’t speak.

Lando closes the door, heart suddenly pounding.

“Did I do something?”

Oscar turns.

“I read your letter again,” he says. Quiet. Then steps closer. “You said you’d be quieter.”

“Yeah—?”

“You weren’t.”

And then he grabs Lando’s jaw, pushes him back against the kitchen counter, and kisses him breathless.

Lando makes a noise that can only be described as whimpering.

Oscar pulls back just enough to breathe.

“You want me to stop?”

Lando’s voice is wrecked. “Not even slightly.”

⸻

They don’t make it to the bed.

Oscar ruins him on the couch.

Lando’s hoodie ends up on the lamp. One sock survives. The other is never seen again.

Lando is a puddle of giggles and flushed skin, buried against Oscar’s chest.

“You’re were pretty loud,” he whispers, breathless. “Not a good example.”

Oscar grins against his hair.

“I’m sure the neighbours don’t mind.”

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

[16wolke11]

Double Trouble - Franco Colapinto + Paul Aron

A/N Someone save the boys from Alpine, they are suffering from the curse Oscar left (or dodged?)

WORDS: 6707 It wasn't planned to be that long...

WARNINGS: NSFW (threesome/oral ->f receiving/fingering (anal)/double penetration(both holes/protected sex)

____

Entering the Paddock of the Miami International Autodrome still feels unreal when I take the first steps in it this morning. Being an F1 fan since I was a little child, making it just a bit more amazing and even though I thought I would never experience it, here I am. Amazed by my surroundings, spotting more and more things that make my heart flutter happily. Until I stumble into someone.

"Watch out." A voice with a heavy accent, hands holding onto my arms to keep me up and not embarrass myself even more by falling to the ground. I look up and for a second, I am stunned. Franco Colapinto is right in front of me, eyes scanning me like he fears that he just hurt me by grabbing me by the arms.

"Oh god, I am sorry." I apologise, stepping back and out of his touch, feeling how I blush. Great, not even five minutes in and I already managed to run into a driver quite literally. Well, I wanted to meet them, but not like that, not by making myself a laugh of the paddock.

"Don't worry, nothing happened." Franco reassures me, his head tilting slightly to the side, eyes drawn to the paddock pass around my neck. It's full of different cards, giving me access to different areas on the paddock and when his eyes are back on my face, he looks like he is thinking if he should know me from anywhere. Like I am a celebrity visiting for the first time, granted that Miami is an obvious spot for that, and he has to know me because of it.

"Where are you heading so quickly?" He then asks and I do hesitate a second before I answer.

"Alpine." I tell him and immediately his eyes light up.

"I can show you the rest of the way." Franco offers me and even though I already spotted the building in the distance, I wouldn't mind some company. If someone told me before that the first person I met in the paddock would be Franco Colapinto and that he is willingly talking to me, I would have accused them of a lie.

"That would be nice." I smile at him and get a big one in return. Franco asks me what my name is, introduces himself even though that isn't necessary and we are almost at the Alpine hospitality, when he asks me:

"Soo, tell me what you are doing..."

His question is interrupted by a screech of my name, making me flinch slightly. Franco frowns, eyes finding the person at the front door of the hospitality making stressed gestures at me to come over. I am just a trainee and should probably go over to Kai, my boss for the weekend, as quickly as possible.

"Sorry, have to go." I apologise to Franco, who just waves at me and then I walk over to my boss. He is looking at me like I just did something bad and I know he doesn't want me to be here. Believing that women shouldn't work anyway, but my instructor talked the company into letting me come with him. Granted, I did a lot of the brainstorming for our upcoming tasks.

"Where the hell were you?" Kai hisses at me with a lowered voice, eyes flickering around to check if there are any eyes on us. I glance at my watch, showing me I still have around five minutes left before our appointment, knowing my short conversation didn't do any damage to me.

"I am still on time." I tell, trying to stay confident around him, a tip my instructor gave me. If I am not bothered by his behaviour, he might get frustrated, give up and search for a new target. Not nice as well, but better than him terrorising my days.

"You are on time if I say so." He squints his eyes at me, and I just want to make a remark, when two more people join us.

"Good morning." They greet us, we say hello back and then we chat for a short time, exchange names and they ask us if the trip was fine. Alpines' PR team contains two women and I am pretty sure my companion isn't happy with it, but for the sake of the job, he acts like it.

"We thought of splitting the drivers between the current ones and the reserve drivers. Would that be okay?" One of the asks and I can feel the eyes of my boss on me. Kai is probably debating with himself if he should cause a scene, but then acts like he is a reassuring boss for me.

"You think you can handle that?" He asks, a hint of a threat in his voice and I just straighten my back, looking at him.

"Sure, I know exactly what we planned." I probably know better than he does, with me being the one creating many of the questions for the outline of this interview. We nod at the PRS and one of them asks my boss to follow while the other waves me over.

"Don't mess this up." He hisses in my ear, making it look like, with a pat on my shoulder, he is just wishing me good luck. I roll my eyes and walk over to the friendly PR. This is going to be so much more pleasant.

"So, we planned an hour, we can either do thirty minutes each or both together?" She offers me and with knowing the personalities of the reserve drivers, I ask her back.

"Will half an hour be enough for Franco's yapping?" For a moment, she just looks at me and I fear I overstepped a border, before she just starts laughing, making me grin.

"Probably not." She then tells me and I can only imagine. If Franco starts talking about something he likes, he isn't going to stop easily. "Let's do it with both of them. Sometimes being with Paul stops him from babbling too much." She offers and I nod at her. Then she opens a door, reprimands the boys for something, and tells them to behave. "All yours." She mutters before leaving me alone.

Just when I enter the room, I spot Franco and Paul sitting on one of the couches. Franco's face pulls into a grin when he spots me. "Well, hello there." I greet him and Paul, tell them my name, before sitting down on the opposite couch, placing my backpack on the ground.

"Where did we stop? I think you wanted to tell me why you are here." Franco asks me, relaxing against the backrest of the couch, acting like our conversation wasn't stopped a few minutes ago.

"Exactly." I say, beginning to prepare to tell them what this is about, when Paul speaks up.

"Whatever it is with Franco here, I am not going to be able to say a word." He huffs and I frown. The Estonian's eyes flicker between Franco and me and I feel slightly discouraged.

"Oh, your press officer said it would be better that way." I hesitantly speak up, trying to find a solution, "But we can still split the time between you two if you prefer that?" I ask them, specifically looking at Paul, who seems to have the bigger issue with the situation.

"Nope, I was promised an hour, so I get an hour." Franco pouts, arms crossed in front of his chest, making Paul sigh. Poor PR, which has to deal with them every weekend or for every event they attend. Paul looks at Franco, then at me, before nodding his head.

"Fine, but only if you shut up from time to time." Paul shoves Franco, who just laughs, shoving Paul back, making me smile at both of them.

"Not promising that." Franco grins, but then the boys settle down, both looking at me curiously.

"Okay, so I am here with a publisher. We want to create a children's book about F1. How a journey to it could look, the difficulties and the good things." It will follow the amazement of a child falling in love with the sport, wanting to do the same, going karting, making their way up and facing the downs until they reach the top.

"Isn't that too heavy for young kids?" Paul asks, probably thinking about the rough side of the sport. The issues both he and Franco faced during that process and that just reaching F1 doesn't mean that you will drive. Both of them are reserve drivers and no one knows if they will ever have a fair chance in F1.

"We plan on doing two versions, one lighter and one heavier one for older children." I explain, because I thought about the same thing as he did. Some topics just shouldn't be covered when it is a book for small children. In the version for the older kids, we could cover the downsides at least a little bit.

"To make it as accurate as possible, we want to speak with many different drivers and will probably try to reach out to other teams as well." I explain further. Alpine was just the first team to reach back out to us, but we are also in talks with other teams, hoping to get a broad variety of drivers to contribute to this. "Today is for the basics and then we will reach out to you for the details, little Easter eggs to show who the story belongs to." Things like numbers on the kart, belongings of the drivers, like Seb Vettel having his teddy on the kart, special helmets and other stuff that will show which driver the story talks about in the illustrated part.

"Any questions?" I ask the boys, but they just shake their heads, sitting comfortably in front of me.

"Not yet." Franco tells me and I nod.

I ask them if I can record from now on, not wanting to type everything done right now, to be able to fully concentrate on the conversations. They give me the go and then we talk. About how they discovered F1, how they convinced their parents to try, and what it was like growing up different from other children. About the ups and downs they faced and the points where they wanted to give up.

We laugh together, it gets quiet during the heavier themes, but it feels like bonding. They add to each other's stories if they experienced the same thing or tell if they had a different path. Time feels like it is flying by and we do a quick water break, mate for Franco, before we settle down again.

"And what about you? How did you get into F1 or your job." Franco asks me back after I was the one asking them questions for this whole time. He looks genuinely interested and Paul also wants to know the answer.

"If we talk about us, strip our souls, you should tell us a bit about yourself." Paul says, emphasising the strip, almost making a blush creep to my cheeks.

"Spill all the dirty secrets." Franco whispers, leaning forward, elbows placed on his thighs. The atmosphere shifts and my heart stumbles. This conversation doesn't feel as casual anymore, but rather suggestive. I clear my throat, shaking my head to clear my thoughts.

"I would like to keep the rest of this professional." I manage to choke out, fingers playing with each other. Not knowing what else to do, how to even react to something like this and then I wait. The boys exchange a glance, Paul nods slightly, before Franco answers.

"We can work with that."

We just continue from that point on and even though the boys still answer my questions without hesitating, something has shifted. I feel their eyes on me constantly, the lingering stares on my body, how Franco licks over his lower lip while looking at me, how Paul barely looks away anymore and I don't know if I like their attention or not. When the door opens, it kind of breaks the tension in the room.

"Everything okay in here?" The PR from earlier asks, glancing at the boys, before looking at me again. "Yeah, we just wrapped it up." I tell her, clicking on the Dictaphone to end the recording. She lifts one of her eyebrows, looking from the boys to me and back to them.

"I'm surprised I don't have to save you." She tells us, making me grin, "Me too." I thought I would be talked against the wall, but the conversation with them was rather pleasant.

"Oh, come on. We aren't that bad." Franco huffs, again that adorable pout on his lips, before Paul adds, "...sometimes." Then there is just laughter for a moment and I love that it is so relaxed in here.

"Can we stay, or do we have anywhere else to be?" Paul asks, making the PR frown in question.

"Why?"

"She just wanted to tell us how she ended up in F1, or more, her job." Franco tells her and now I am the one looking confused. I wanted what? Yes, they asked me, but I never said I would tell them anything.

"You want to listen to someone else talking?" She asks the boys and Franco just groans.

"Is that so hard to believe?" Paul grumbles, hands gesturing like he learned it in Italy during his time at Prema.

"Fine, you don't have anything to do in the next hour, but that includes your food break." She tells them and both of the boys nod, "That's okay."

That's my cue to speak up. "Well, but I might have to leave." I tell them, making both heads whip around to face me.

"Why?" Franco asks like I just have insulted him personally and I gesture to my work stuff.

"Because I have to work?" I tell them, knowing I should probably transcribe the information as soon as possible to get the follow-up questions ready.

"Oh, your boss is still interviewing with the other boys, I am sure he doesn't mind you staying here." The PR pipes up and I don't have anything to defend myself, especially not with Paul and Franco staring at me.

We do talk about my way to F1, how I ended up with that publisher, the fact that I know Paul longer than Franco and some random facts. They do throw in suggestive comments from time to time, but with every bit, I can handle them better. Franco persuaded me into trying some mate, laughing at my face when the first sip was too bitter for me and somehow I ended up sitting between both of them.

Some subtle touches here and there, both of their shoulders touching mine, making me feel small but somewhat safe between them. Franco playing, or as he said, investigating, the bracelets on my wrist, Paul's fingers brushing over my neck occasionally and somehow the temperature in the room gets higher and higher.

I don't even know what I am doing, what they are doing, but it doesn't scare me too much. My body acting on its own, one of my hands is placed on Franco's thigh, while my head rests on Paul's shoulders. We just continue chatting, but I think because we are in public, they don't try to go any further.

But when my phone rings, the bubble pops. I flinch out of that cuddly state, letting the hands of the boys fall off my body when I stand up quickly to reach for my phone. Of course, it's Kai.

"Where are you?" He barks at me and I flinch. All of the relaxed feelings leave me in seconds. "I want to talk about the interview results now!" He demands and I let my shoulders hang. "Will be there in a second." I promise, get snapped at with a "Hurry up," before he hangs up.

Hastily, I search for my things, making sure I don't forget anything, even though I just placed the list of questions and the recorder on the table. Without me noticing, the boys stand up, coming near me.

"Everything okay?" Paul asks, catching my phone when I flinch and let it fall out of my hands. Franco is positioned behind me, hands carefully placed on my arms, like he is trying to calm me down.

"Yeah, just my boss." I stutter, nothing left from that confident behaviour. "He is an asshole." Franco huffs and I know he is right, but he is still the only one from my workplace here and kind of responsible for me. His fingers brush up and down my arms and I look over my shoulder, meeting his worried eyes.

"Sorry, I have to leave." I excuse myself and see that he isn't happy with my decision. Before I even know what he is doing, Franco leans down, kisses my cheek, his lips lingering there for a moment, before he pulls his head back.

"Text Paul when you are back at your hotel?" He asks me to and I look at the Estonian, frowning. "How?" I ask, not having the number of any of them, but Paul just gives me my phone with a wink and I understand. Thanking them both, I take my stuff and leave to face the dread of my boss.

The bossing around is even worse than usual this time and while Kai is typing slowly on his laptop, I am the one transcribing both of the interviews. For his liking, I am way too slow, stopping all the progress we could make today. I listen, type and scrobble down little notes for parts we might need more details for. The hours pass by and slowly the sun dips. My neck feels strained, there is a soft throbbing in my temples and right now I want nothing more than just to be back cuddled between Paul and Franco.

The hospitality is almost empty when we finally leave the track. Paddock is no longer flooded by working people as well, just some of the big broadcasters still packing in their stuff just to return her tomorrow. The ride to the hotel is luckily silent and I am more than glad to finally enter my hotel room. I kick off my shoes and fall face down on my bed, sighing deeply when my head hits the soft pillow, until a thought comes to my mind. I promised the boys to text them. Pulling out my phone, I spot Paul's number easily and simply text him a:

Finally back at the hotel.

It doesn't take him long to answer, grey checks turning blue almost immediately, like he just waited for me to text him.

This late?

Yeah, everything was taking longer...

I rub my neck, knowing it might form into a headache if I don't stretch it for a bit, but I don't really want to move right now.

Want to come over?

I hesitate, biting my lower lip. As much as I would like to see the boys, usually the team hotels are flooded by fans, paparazzi and even though the boys are "just" reserve drivers, they still have a lot of eyes on them.

I can't just wander into your hotel.

Come outside your hotel and one of us will pick you up.

I don't know...

Please? You don't have to if you are uncomfortable with it, but Franco and I would like your company.

I sigh, this is way too good to be true. But being with them might be just what I need. Sharing time with them today made me feel so relaxed, so safe and I would give everything to just feel that again.

Okay.

Great! Put something comfortable on and Franco will be there in ten?

Fifteen?

I ask, suddenly no longer feeling tired anymore. The least thing I can do is to freshen up, the day was warm and I don't want to smell bad when I am close to them.

Fifteen it is.

Wrapped in a comfy hoodie and some sweatpants, I wait outside of my hotel. The temperatures have dropped without the sun, but luckily, I don't have to wait long. A car pulled up just a minute later, revealing Franco in the driver's seat, giving me one of his signature smiles.

"Hi."

"Hey Franco." I greet him and sit down in the car. Without hesitating, he leans over, presses his lips against my cheek like he did this morning, making me blush while he drives off. Just being with him makes my heart beat quicker, but at the same time, calmness waves over me.

"Paul is already in my room." Franco informs me and I just mutter an "Okay," eyes looking into the night. He sighs softly, making me look at him.

"Don't go all shy on us now, okay?" Franco asks, gaze flickering over, before he keeps focusing on the street. "Nothing you don't want will happen tonight." He reassures me and I sigh. Knowing they don't force me to do anything, but this whole situation feels so absurd to me.

"It just feels weird." I mutter, but reach out to gently touch his arm. Feeling the need to show him I am comfortable around them, just more than nervous.

"I get that, but just relax, we are two normal boys who like to talk too much." He grins, making me smile at his words.

"That helps."

The rest of the ride is silent, but it is a comfortable one. Franco reaches out to place his hand on my thigh while he doesn't need it to shift, me playing with his fingers in the process and a shared look from time to time. With Franco, I don't need to enter through the front; we park the car in a secluded area in the back without any fans or cameras visible, before we enter the hotel. Franco holds my hand on the elevator ride, leading me to his hotel room. He opens the door, letting me enter first, before he announces our presence.

"We're back." We get rid of our shoes and enter the spacious bedroom. Paul is lying on the bed, but sits up when he sees us. He is dressed in a shirt and some sweatpants, making it seem like he and Franco chilled in here before they decided they wanted my company.

"Hi." Paul grins, hops on his feet and with three wide steps, he is in front of me. Without even giving me the chance to answer, he kisses me. Presses his lips onto mine, making my eyes widen, but I don't pull back. Sighing softly against his lips before slowly moving my lips in sync with his. I can hear Franco grumble something and Paul pulls back with a smile, eyes looking at mine reassuringly.

Just blinking, I stare at him for a moment, until I feel a soft touch on my chin. I look at Franco, who's is looking at me, head slightly tilted to the side. When my eyes flicker to his lips, he smirks, leans down and kisses me. His lips are soft and I can do anything but sigh against his lips as well. This isn't how I imagined my evening to be, but I won't complain. Pulling back from me, Franco has that little smirk on his lips again, making me blush furiously.

"You can stop us at any second." Franco reassures me, just like he did in the car. Only the things I want to happen will happen tonight. I nod slowly and it seems to give the boy the okay to start. Fingers tug on the hem of my hoodie and I lift my arms, letting them pull it over my head. Wanting to be cuddled into a hoodie tonight, I didn't put on an extra shirt, making the boys groan when they spot me just left in my bra. Paul pulls me into another kiss and I'm glad because it gives me something to do. They both taste good on my lips and it feels like a drug I can't get enough of.

I can feel hands roam over my skin, guessing Franco is the one touching me and try to lean my body into his touch. Paul's tongue dips into my mouth, making me whimper. God, how am I supposed to go through the night with them, if just kissing makes my knees go weak.

Franco's fingers hook under the straps of my bra, pulling one side down, then the other. Lips caressing the spots where they rested before. But he doesn't open the bra just yet. His hands hold onto my hips, pulling me against his chest, my lips still entangled with Paul's. I gasp when Paul pulls back, eyes hooded, only to see his hungry gaze on me. He looks over my shoulder, communicating wordlessly with Franco again. Franco loses his grip on me, hand sneaking up my back, opening the bra and makes it fall to the ground. Making me gulp.

"Fuck, I never...never done this before." I whisper, feeling the need to say anything. A threesome might have been on my mind one or two times before, but I never thought that I would have one. Especially not with people like Franco and Paul.

"That's okay, we can take it slow." Paul reassures me, hand cupping my cheek, thumb brushing softly over my skin.

"It's all about you." Franco promises, kisses my other cheek like he did so often before and I whisper a soft "Okay" to tell them I am ready. Well, more or less.

Paul stays in front of me, Franco behind. They start kissing my skin. One on each side of my neck. Softly dragging their lips over the skin, not giving me a chance to tilt my head to the side, giving one of the more access. Franco nips at my skin and instinctively, I reach up to tangle my fingers into his hair. His tongue licks soothingly over his bites, exploring more and more of my skin.

Paul's hands touch me as well. At first kind of aimlessly drawing patterns into my skin. Fingers wandering up my ribcage, making me arch my body into his. I don't know what to do, so overwhelmed by the feelings of the two touching me that I can't do anything but let them use me and whimper. At one point, I manage to impatiently tug on their shirts. Making them pull back one by one, pulling their shirts over their heads, before they are back with me.

My naked back is pressed against Franco's chest and when I tilt my hips slightly I can feel his length pressing against my back. I lift my hands, start to touch Paul's chest while he kisses me again. Makes his tongue dance with mine, sending shivers down my spine. Franco's kisses slowly wander from my neck to between my shoulder blades until he has to drop to his knees to keep getting lower.

His lips keep wandering lower until they reach my lower back and then his hands join in. He hooks them into my sweatpants, manages to grab my panties as well and slowly drags them down my body, following the fabric with his lips. Franco helps me to step out of the trousers one foot by one, before he kisses up the other leg. Cheekily he grazes his teeth over my butt, making me whimper against Pauls lips, but push my hips back into Francos mouth.

"So pretty." Paul whispers, eyes scanning my body like he has never seen someone prettier before. I would blush if my head wasn't red anyway and for the first time this evening, I can feel how wet I already am. Behind me, Franco is back on his feet, hands brushing up my sides, hands finding my breasts, covering them with his fingers.

"So responsive." Franco praises me, fingers pinching my nipples, making me arch my back to get more of his touch. I feel high on lust by now, but this night is just getting started. Trying to get more active as well, I hook my fingers into Paul's sweatpants, looking in his eyes, waiting for him to nod before I pull them down.

I try not to stare, but both of them are so trained. Admiring Paul's physics, I don't even realise that Franco has undressed himself. Only when I see him going to the bed, my eyes are back on him. Franco lies down in the middle of the bed, leaving enough space for Paul and me.

"Sit on my face." Franco instructs me and I hesitate. Eyes wandering from Franco to Paul and back to Franco, who just waves me over. Carefully, I walk over to the bed, kneel beside Franco, first not sure if I should really do this. But he helps me drape one of my legs over his body, parting them naturally. I shuffle a bit higher, hovering over Franco's face at first, bracing myself for the impact, but he isn't patient. Without hesitation, Franco pulls me down to his face, making me squeak. Hand finds the headboard to hold me upright while Franco starts to devour me.

Tongue finding my clit easily while his hands hold me firmly in place. Lips perfect to suck the little pearl into his mouth, making he whimper, "Fuck, Franco." I look down on him, only to find his gaze. Eyes dark while he keeps pleasuring me with his mouth. I try not to grind down on his face, but with every lick, every soft suck it gets harder and harder.

"Relax, okay?" Paul mutters, approaching me from behind and I look over my shoulder to see that the Estonian has a bottle of lube in his hands. Fingers trailing down my back and I get what he wants to do, making me tense up slightly. Franco stops his movements, fingers softly kneading my thigh.

"Be careful, please?" I ask Paul because even though I had anal sex before it was some time ago and I don't know easily I manage to relax under the touch of both of the boys.

"Of course." Paul promises, kisses me softly on the lips, before opening the lube bottle. Warming it up in his palm, before coating his fingers with it. I turn my eyes back to Franco, trying to find a point to distract me and when he sees me looking at him he takes up his movements again. Tongue swirling around my clit takes my mind away from thinking and I don't even flinch when I feel Pauls finger at my backside.

The coated fingertip rests against my hole, slowly massaging it, until it relaxes enough for him to push one finger in. I gasp, grinding down against Franco's tongue, making him groan in response. The vibrations sending waves through my body and I just have one thought in my mind. More. More. More.

Paul moves his finger, twisting and turning it to work me open enough to slide a second finger inside. Franco's fingers are dug in my thighs, holding me tight to his face, not letting me move away when the pleasure slowly gets more and more. Tip of his tongue dipping into my hole, lips sucking on my clit, drawing whimper by whimper over my lips. The second finger of Paul doesn't hurt, just makes some tension ripple through my body.

"Shh." Paul softly hushes me, keeping his hand still, until I relax under their touch. He twists and scissors them carefully to open me up while I drip down on Franco's tongue.

"I'm..." I whimper, feeling my body clench around Paul's fingers and Franco's tongue. Only managing to whimper more while orgasming for the first time. Instead of stopping Franco just keeps lapping my clit slowly. Paul slips a third finger inside, using the moment of my body relaxing to shove it inside for further preparations.

Just when I slowly realise they aren't going to give me a pause, Franco manages to sneak his fingers between my legs as well. Adding two of them to my dripping hole, making me gasp. Just by the feeling of the boy's fingers filling my holes, I feel full, stretched and can only imagine what will happen after the preparation part. Both of the move their fingers, slowly stretching me open, Francos tongue on my clit distracting me from any remaining pain, while I just moan under they touch. I can feel my thighs shaking, a second orgasm building up and they have to feel it as well by how hard I clench down on their fingers.

"Oh god, I can't." I try to get myself out of their touch, but together they hold me in place, fingers thrusting in and out like it is their only goal to make me come. "You are doing so good." Paul whispers into my ear, lips nipping on the sensitive skin below, sending me straight over the edge. I can barely hold myself up anymore and I am more than glad when Paul and Franco both pull their hands back and when Francos tongue is no longer working on my clit. My thighs feel damp and shake slightly while I try to connect myself to reality again.

Looks like the boys have decided to give me a little break. Letting me rest between them, head resting against Franco's chest while Paul is pressed against my back. I can feel their hot skin on mine, their hard lengths pressing into my body, but they stay calm and give me a moment to breathe. Fingers drawing patterns into my body while my breathing is slowly getting back to normal. When I sigh softly and start to return their touch, live comes back into them.

"Ready for us?" Franco asks, sitting up slightly, making me slide off his chest. I roll onto my back, looking up at both of them, who look at me, observing. Trying to listen to my body, I figure out how I feel. Definitely sore tomorrow, but abdomen still clenching in anticipation.

"I guess?" I mumble, not matching the enthusiasm of my body.

"You don't have to, if it is getting too much, we are just going to take turns." Paul suggests and Franco nods. I don't know what will drain my body more, both of them together or one after the other, one always having time to recover and maybe even going for another round.

"If you can take us both, we can still take turns later tonight." Franco grins and I huff slightly.

"I am not getting any sleep tonight, will I?" I ask them, but grin during it, not finding that idea unpleasant.

"Hardly." Paul confirms and I nod my head, "Okay."

Franco sits up, reaches for something on the bedside table and hands Paul a condom. They both prep themselves, pumping their lengths a couple of times, before pulling the condom on and spreading a generous amount of lube on top. Even though I am probably more than wet right now, they want to make this as easy as possible.

I straddle Franco's hips, hovering over his length for a moment while holding onto his shoulders. He holds his tip against my entrance, but waits for me to move first. I look him in the eyes when I slowly sink down, taking his length inch by inch. Franco groans, hips bucking slightly, his fingers digging into my side, but he stays still. I take the time to kiss him, taste myself on his lips and whimper against them. Franco lets himself fall back, pulling me with him to make some space for Paul.

Paul kneels behind me, fingers softly caressing my butt, hands spreading the cheeks for his cock to slide between them. His tip pushes against the hole and I tense up just slightly before relaxing again. Bit by bit, he pushes inside, hushing me softly when I whimper and cramp. Just when I think I cant take all of them Paul fingers find my clit, toying with it, making me relax enough for him to slide in fully.

"You feel so good around me." Paul groans before Franco adds, „Doing so well." Their little praises help me take my mind away from the slightly burning stretch. Pauls fingers keep rolling over my clit, Franco helping me to sit up slightly, changing the angle of the cocks. My fingers dig into Franco's chest, making him groan, but both of them stay completely still. I try to listen to my body and when there is just anticipation and lust left, I give them the go to move.

"You can move."

They chose slow, deliberated movements. Paul pulls his hips back slightly, before pushing in again and Franco finds a way to buck his hips up. It does need a moment for them to find a rhythm, but then it is just lust flooding my veins. I don't know what to do, to think, just feel and let them move me. Being so on the edge already that just a few thrusts are enough to push me over, making me clench down on them and draw groans from their throats.

It's like this flips a switch and they are no longer keep grinding into me but get more force behind their thrust, using me for their pleasure. My finger dig into Franco's chest, probably leaving marks behind, drawing some moans over his lips. They both hold onto my hips, hands covering he ones of the other while they pull me into their thrusts. Paul slightly backwards and Franco down, stretching me open on their cocks. I don't know how much time passes until I feel that familiar tugging in my lower abdomen.

"Fuck, fuck fuck." I whimper between them, not knowing if I can take another one. "Yes, come again." Paul groans and I can feel his hand sneaking from my hip to in between my thighs. Just when his fingertip brushes against my clit I orgasm, spasming around them while feeling completely blissed out. Being in a hazy state, barely realising that the boys come to their high as well.

We all collapse on the bed for a moment, my body aching but kind of in a good way. I have my eyes closed, barely feeling the boys pulling out of, before they cuddle themselves against my body. My heart rate slowly comes down again and the exhaustion takes over my body. I yawn softly, cuddling myself against the damp skin of Franco, or is it Paul? I don't really care.

"Are you okay." One of them asks and I just hum in return, "Hm."

"Can you open your eyes?" This time, I am sure it's Franco and slowly open my eyes, blinking at them tiredly. Both have a soft smile on their lips, hair slightly sticking to their foreheads, but I am sure I don't look any better.

"We got you some water." Paul tells me and helps me to sit up slightly before giving me the bottle. "Thank you." I mutter, drinking a good amount of it, only now realising how thirsty I am. Franco disappears for a moment, returning with a damp washcloth in his hands.

"Can I clean your thighs?" He asks me, because even though they didn't spill inside of me, but into a condom, my thighs are still sticky with slick and lube. Knowing this might get uncomfortable, I smile at Franco. "Yes."

He sits down beside me, tenderly letting the lukewarm washcloth brush over my thighs, cleaning away the remnants of the night. "You did so good for us." Franco praises me, lips meeting my cheek, making me sigh softly.

"Now rest for a bit." Paul says and we all cuddle back together in the bed. Barely visible where one starts and the other ends, covered by the big hotel blanket, all drifting into a deep slumber not long after.

We might not have done it again that night, all too tired, but who knows what the morning has in store for us. 

[pookietv]

lost in translation (part four) | george clarkey

hello! final part!!!! so sorry you guys have had to wait, hope i made it worth it!!

i really enjoyed making this, and hopefully over the summer i can do more series cause this was SO fun to write and do :)

i hope you guys liked reading it as much as i loved writing it <3

the message plagued your screen like a glaring issue, and it was all you could do to shove it in your pocket and let yourself storm home as fast as your legs could carry you. that didn't stop you going over it in your head in every scenario possible, though.

what did he want to talk about? what was there to even talk about?

he didn't know you had overheard anything, and you couldn't say with any certainty it was about you. which left you in a strange angry limbo that felt half like a self inflicted wound.

when you got back to your apartment, pressing keys into the lock as quickly as you could and allowing your body to slump into your sofa as you willed yourself not to look at your phone.

it was fine, you could just ignore the text. worrying over george had taken up much of your life over previous months, and it felt right, right? he had ignored you for ages, you could pretend this one text didn't happen. you could leave the carefully constructed wall between you standing.

but the confession you overheard replayed over your mind like an intrusive thought you couldn't will away, as hard as you tried. you couldn't pretend you didn't want to answer.

the easy laughs and comfortableness of george, the part of you that felt a pang every time you ignored each-other in a group setting and wished he would go back to normal ached inside you.

pulling your phone out, a sigh that felt heavier than it should escaped you as your thumbs moved over the screen.

"talk about what?" you responded, and pressed send before you could allow yourself to spiral more into questioning whether that blunt text was slightly too harsh.

his reply was almost instant, and that made you feel good about yourself, like he had waited patiently with the sole intent of replying to you. "i'd really like to meet up to talk. whenever you're free, i don't want to be inconvenient. coffee maybe, my treat?"

you hesitated for a long while before replying, the words burning a hole through your phone. "tomorrow morning?" you sent.

the next text from him came just as quick, "perfect. the coffee place next to yours, at 10?"

you mentally acknowledged the text, but let it sit in the unopened part of your phone. maybe it was a little bit of power, for him to sit and wonder if you had seen things the way you had done for time before. you debated if it was slightly bitchy of you, but you felt justified to be a little bitchy, this once.

the rest of your night was a blur of overthinking every scenario that could possibly happen the following morning, each conversation being more anxiety inducing than the previous one.

when the morning came, it was surprisingly sunny for april in london - though you weren't complaining, fluffy clouds could do nothing but brighten your current mood.

the painstaking care you put into making sure you looked nice, but not too put together bothered you. you hated that you were putting effort into not looking like you put effort in all for a man you disliked, right?

when you got to the coffee shop, you were grateful that it wasn't too busy - the early morning crowd had left after their caffeine fix and the lunch crowd wouldn't hit for a while, leaving a couple of older people and students on the surrounding tables.

you spotted george before he spotted you, sat at a table facing the window on the opposite side of the street you had walked in from. he looked a little different, his posture slightly vulnerable in a way you hadn't seen.

when you approached the table, he stood up - a half nervous smile gracing his lips, fingers touching at the opposite chair, pulling it out for you, "hey," he said gently.

the word felt small and silly, but you responded the same. what more could you say?

"hey,"

the moments that followed were an awkward silence - the kind that used to be comfortable when you were sat in his room and watching him doing some kind of editing, but now felt heavy.

"i ordered your usual, if that's okay, uh, wasn't sure, and they asked, so.." george filled in, the background of cups or brief conversation a strange soundtrack.

"yeah, um, thank you," you replied. you decided that lingering on the fact he remembered your order stung more than helped you. "you wanted to talk?"

you watched george as his lips pressed together, his gaze falling at the table for a moment as he took a deeper than usual breath, "yeah, i.. i know hearing any of this is late, and you have all rights to be annoyed but," he paused for a moment, and his hands touched his overgrown mullet, which you hated to admit that he had grown into too well, "i, uh... well, is it cringe to say i messed up?"

you felt your eyebrows raise, the small part of you that wanted to claim victory of him acknowledging his behaviour winning, head tilting in an offer for him to continue.

"the distance," his voice lowered slightly, "you didn't do anything wrong, it was 'cause of me, i..." he hesitated again, eyes looking back at you, "i was starting to have feelings, you know? proper ones, and it scared the fuck out of me."

his confession hung in the air, mirroring what you had overheard from his conversation with arthur, like the most twisted victory flag.

"scared you?" you echoed his admission, "so you... ignored me, thinking that would fix stuff? i thought i'd done something, you know... like, for ages, all i could think was, god, i've really upset george, he must hate me, but..."

"you know better than me that i'm not smart. it was stupid, i know," he admitted, his face slightly twinging at you admitting the hurt you felt, "so stupid, i figured pulling away was better than ruining our friendship,"

"pulling away hurt our friendship more, no?" you murmured for a moment, before being paused by the waitress bringing two coffee cups - two lattes, one iced, one hot. he didn't like iced coffee, you loved it.

"like i said, stupid," he spoke again, looking down at the coffee cup. you took a sip of your drink - vanilla and oat milk - and felt a weird sense of pride that he did actually remember it. "i didn't want to make you uncomfortable and i figured the feelings would just... go away."

silence that chipped away from any barrier left between the two of you fell.

you decided to break it, your voice softer, less cutting and less filled with half-hearted anger.

"did they?"

the smile that painted his face was rueful, a small shake of his head, "no. it made everything worse, for both of us i think."

the moment of absorbing that information felt like all you could give yourself. you felt bad, a guilty look you never placed on him covering his expressions.

"i overheard you," you said finally, "with arthur. i wasn't... i... i was going to the toilet, and i heard..."

flickerings of surprise covered his face, a small smile that you may have said was cocky, but more resigned followed, "right, well... that makes things easier, i guess," he said, his signature small chuckle continuing, "i know i don't deserve it, but i'm sorry for making you feel awful, you're great - smart, funny, kind. and i was just, stupidly caught up in all my shit, and i was just ignoring how good the thing in front of me was."

his hand hovered over yours for a moment, as if unsure if he was allowed to touch you right now. the sentiment almost made you melt and reach in for a poorly timed hug, but you kept composure and moved your hand slightly forward to meet his, his fingers slightly closing over yours.

"so," you murmured, "what now, george?"

the look in his eyes, the happy, hopeful look made you feel dopey.

"now? i'd like us to.. y'know, properly try. the normal stuff, not ignoring you, taking you on a date, me not being an idiot... normal things," he said, letting slight jokes seep in, "a proper date, a do-over, 'cause i missed a lot of your good moments as a friend, ."

his thumb lightly ran over the top of your hand, a small comforting back and forth motion.

the warmth spreading through you felt like the first good day of summer, the bitterly harboured anger like a distant memory after clarity.

"a proper date? didn't know you'd even heard of one of those, george clarke," you lightly joked, a genuine smile finally gracing your face.

his smile widened, crinkled corners of his eyes relaxed, "my track record with you isn't great, i'll admit, but... i know a good date." he joked back, "i've watched romance films, candles and questionable italian food..."

"oh, questionable food? now you're really selling it, george," you joked, taking a sip of your drink, the sweetness of the vanilla stupidly feeling like some mirroring of the conversation.

"right, well. you'll see, i promise."

[matts-girlfriend]

It’s You I Welcome Death With- Chris Sturniolo

TattooArtist!Chris and MakeupArtist!Reader

chapter 13

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

warning this series will contain, substance abuse, angst, arguing,tension,swearing, mentions of absent family, blood, abuse (not from chris). smut, oral, this is a warning for all chapters

Chris hadn’t seen her in a week.

A whole fucking week.

Seven days of nothing but silence. Missed calls. Unread messages. Showing up to her work like some pathetic ghost, only to find out she’d taken extra shifts elsewhere or wasn’t scheduled at all.

He was going insane.

He hated this. Hated the quiet. Hated the fucking ache in his chest. But mostly, he hated himself—for letting it get this far. For pushing her. For saying the one thing he knew would break her. For trying to act like she didn’t matter when she was all he thought about.

He sat hunched over in the back of the shop, rubbing at the bags under his eyes like it would help. His phone was in his hand again. Another message he wouldn’t send.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did. You didn’t deserve that.”

Delete. Re-type.

“Can we talk? Please.”

Delete.

“I’m sorry.”

Send.

No response.

Across the shop, Nick was pacing, chewing on the inside of his cheek like it might fix the guilt twisting in his gut.

“This is my fault,” he finally said, voice low. “I pushed you that morning. I fucking baited you, and you snapped.”

Chris looked up at him, eyes bloodshot. “Yeah, well, I didn’t have to say what I said. I chose that.”

Nick’s voice cracked. “But you didn’t mean it.”

Chris let out a bitter laugh. “Doesn’t matter if I meant it. I said it. And now she thinks I used her. She thinks she was just a way to kill time until someone better came along.”

Matt looked up from the back booth where he was sketching, his tone rough. “You hurt her. You get that, right? I know you’re sorry, but sorry doesn’t cut it this time. Not for her.”

Chris’s jaw locked. “You think I don’t fucking know that?”

“You called her disposable,” Matt said, flat. “To her face. After you made her think she meant something to you.”

“She did,” Chris said. “She still does. She’s all I think about. She’s—she’s it for me, man. And I ruined it. I ruined it for something fucking stupid I said to shut you up—” he cut a glare at Nick “—because I was fucking scared.”

Nick looked down, guilt etched into his face.

Chris swallowed hard. “She’s not like anyone I’ve ever known,” he said quietly. “She’s—fuck, I don’t even have the words. She’s just… it’s her. It’s always been her since the first goddamn time she walked in here with that smart mouth and that attitude.”

He exhaled like the words were burning his lungs.

“I had her,” he muttered. “For one second, I fucking had her. And I fucked it up”

Nick looked down at his shoes. “She won’t even answer my texts,” he admitted. “I tried.”

“Same,” Matt said. “She’s shutting everyone out. I don’t blame her.”

Chris stood abruptly. “I need to see her.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

“No,” Chris said. “But I can’t sit here doing nothing. If she tells me to fuck off to my face, fine. I’ll deal with it. But I have to try.

⸻

Y/N hadn’t said a word about what happened.

Not to Ava. Not to anyone.

She came home, locked herself in her room for three days straight, and the only thing that got her out was school. She had an exam coming up for the social work program she’d worked so fucking hard to get into, and she was determined not to let a boy—even if it was him—ruin it.

But Ava noticed.

She noticed how Y/N didn’t sleep much anymore. How she’d get randomly quiet mid-sentence. How her shoulders tensed every time her phone buzzed. And most of all, she noticed how Chris’s name made her flinch like a bruise being pressed.

“What happened?” Ava asked softly, one evening while Y/N was reviewing flashcards.

“Nothing,” Y/N muttered, avoiding her eyes.

“You look like you’ve been crying for a week.”

“I said nothing, Ava,” she snapped, too sharp, too fast.

Ava flinched, and Y/N instantly regretted it. But she didn’t apologize. She couldn’t. Because if she started talking about it, she’d break.

So instead, she studied. She shoved everything down. Buried it beneath school and routines and quiet nights with the door locked.

⸻

Chris hadn’t even planned it. He just… ended up outside her house.

He didn’t think about the consequences, didn’t think about what he’d say. He just knew he couldn’t go another night without trying.

So he knocked.

And when the door opened, it wasn’t her.

It was him.

A tall, slightly stocky man with graying facial stubble and eyes that flicked over Chris like he was prey. His expression was friendly—but in that too friendly way that made the hair on Chris’s neck stand up.

The man smiled like he knew something Chris didn’t. “Can I help you?”

Chris cleared his throat, trying to stay calm. “Uh… is Y/N home?”

The man raised an eyebrow. “You her boyfriend?”

Chris hesitated. Froze. “No,” he said eventually, the word burning in his throat.

The man laughed, stepping aside. “Well come in anyway. I’ll go get her.”

Chris didn’t move at first, but something about the man’s tone sent ice through his veins. Still, he stepped in.

As the man disappeared into the hallway, Chris glanced around. Everything looked clean. Tidy. Normal. But it felt… wrong. The silence was too stiff. The air too thick. And when the man called out her name—

It wasn’t just a call.

It was a warning.

“Y/N!” he yelled, loud and sharp. “Someone’s here. Don’t be rude, girl.”

But Chris heard it. The way he said it. That don’t-make-me-look-bad-or-else tone. He’d heard it before. He’d seen it in old friends, in his own broken home. He suddenly realized exactly who he was standing in front of.

And he fucking hated himself all over again for not seeing it sooner.

⸻

Y/N heard it too.

That voice.

She froze at the top of the stairs, textbook in hand, her breath catching in her throat.

It was that voice. That tone. The one she heard before too many bruises and too many slammed doors.

But when she came down, it wasn’t a distant cousin or an old neighbor standing in her living room.

It was Chris.

And her heart dropped.

Everything stilled.

His eyes met hers, desperate, wrecked. Her mouth parted slightly, like she wanted to speak, but the words got caught.

He took a small step forward. “Y/N…”

Her stepfather loomed behind him, smiling like a threat.

And all she could think was: Not here. Not now.

a/n: god i hate her step dad...but only 7 parts left

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@laylaluvsu2000 @lvrsturniolo @chloe444 @yamommmasman @55sturn @whenlovesaround @luvs-booksss @vampyyluv @snowysosturn @moth-feeet @mx7ka @amb-3-r @ncm9696 @alinagrace11 @cherryystemm @bblbilly @d3vwrlds

[davrinsleftpectoral]

A Word With Friends/Wip Wednesday

Thank you @jenn2d2 for the word of the week, and @hedwigoprah for making a tag game that makes me really stretch my brain muscles. Not gonna lie, this one hurt lol.

This week's word is Perspicacious

Definition:

Quick in noticing, understanding, or judging things accurately or of acute mental vision or discernment.

I took the easy way out this week. I won’t do it every week (probably). Also put it in this WIP of my Chuck E. Cheese AU. So enjoy a snippet of Welcome to Nug E Cheese. This is still part of the first chapter. If you’d like to read the beginning, you can find it here

Some people like to torture Lucanis with angst and feelings. I like to torture him with bad coffee and the horrors of a minimum wage job.

==

“Sorry, don’t mind me.  I’m just gonna get old Joe going,” he explained.

“Good idea. I need some coffee after that meeting,’ Neve agreed.

Turvi approached old Joe. The machine was ancient. 15? 20? Years old. No one was really sure. They suspected it had been left behind by the original construction crew when then store was built.  He took a deep breath and began The Routine.

“Good morning Old Joe,” he began.

Lucanis looked up from his papers and didn’t say anything, simply raised one eyebrow.

Neve smirked at him, “Trust the process. Old Joe likes Rook the best.”

Turvi then turned on the machine. Turned off the machine. Unplugged it, counted to 15, and plugged it back in. He filled the water reservoir, put in a new filter, and grabbed the budget sized can of store brand ground coffee. When Lucanis spotted the giant can, Turvi thought he heard a small sound of distress. Once the coffee was in, he closed the the lid and wrapped a big rubber band around it to keep it shut. 

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Lucanis finally chimed in. “What is the rubber band for?”

Turvi grinned. “It’s like a seat belt, you gotta strap in, it’s for everyone’s safety.” Next he hit the start button, and after that he banged on the top 3 times. “You see Neve, the reason that Harding’s coffee isn’t as good, is that she only hits Joe twice because she feels bad. He needs 3 to really get going.”

Old joe wheezed and started to gurgle and bubble. “When you hear the wheeze, you know it’s going to be a good pot.” He turned around, hands on his hips with satisfaction, grinning at Neve. Lucanis didn’t say anything for a moment. The man’s eyebrows were furrowed deeply though.

Lucanis handed his completed paperwork over to Neve. She flipped through the pages, skimming over his writing. “Well, this looks good. I’ll go see if we have any spare polos in storage, but I’ll have to order you more. We weren’t expecting to get anyone new today,” Neve said by way of apology. 

“If you can’t find one, he can wear mine,” Turvi offered. “I can just wear the Gus suit for the day, instead of switching in and out.”

Lucanis’ eyes widened, but he stayed silent. Neve must have clocked the face he made, because she chuckled. “Keep your clothes on Rook. He can wear his own shirt if we dont have one for him.” 

Old Joe started beeping. Turvi stepped to the side and dramatically bowed and swept his arm out towards Neve. “Ladies first.”

Neve rolled her eyes at him as she got up to grab a mug. She poured the steaming liquid and made a little hum of displeasure. “Seems this batch is a little thick. Oh well. Better luck next time Rook.”

“Thick?” Lucanis squeaked, visibly paling. “And you guys actually drink that?” He asked incredulously, as Neve took a sip. 

“Yes, very perspicacious of you,” Turvi replied. 

Neve chuckled hand on hip, “Well look who’s putting that word of the day calendar in the break room to good use,” Neve said with a laugh. 

“I try,” he confirmed with an answering smirk. 

Turning to Lucanis she shrugged, “It tastes fine, and it does the job. We work in a Nug E Cheese. We can’t afford to be picky,” she shrugged. “Now let me go see about that shirt.”

==

The Routine is based on actual ancient food service machinery. Not the exact routine. But my sister works at an ice cream stand that has very very old machines. You do need to do weird stuff to make them work properly, and there is an actual rubber band holding parts together. Also there is way too much smirking going on. It’s still a wip okay?

Thank you @serensama for the tag. No pressure tagging @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @biowaredisasterbisexual @seaglassmelody @thedissonantverses @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai @woundedsoul12

[starryeyedwolves]

More Than Enough

It started like many mornings did, with sunlight filtering through the half-drawn curtains of their London flat and the smell of slightly burnt toast wafting in from the kitchen. Remus sat curled on the edge of their bed, wrapped in a blanket despite the warmth of the room, book forgotten in his lap, expression unreadable.

Sirius padded in, mug in each hand, his black hair a little messier than usual, like he'd run his fingers through it a dozen times already. “Coffee,” he said, setting one down on the bedside table.

Remus didn’t move. Not even a thank you.

Sirius narrowed his eyes and sat beside him, the mattress dipping slightly. “Alright, what’s eating you?”

Remus blinked, finally looking at him. “Nothing,” he said quietly.

“Oh, brilliant. Nothing. My favorite kind of soul-crushing silence.”

Remus huffed a soft laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I was just thinking.”

“Never good,” Sirius muttered, nudging his arm. “What about?”

There was a long pause, long enough Sirius thought he wouldn’t answer. Then:

“You deserve someone... better.”

Sirius stared. “Better than what?”

Remus looked down at his hands. The faded scars along his knuckles. The slight tremble in his fingers. “Than me.”

The room went very, very still.

Sirius set his coffee down with care. “You want to run that by me again, Moony?”

“I mean it,” Remus said, voice cracking. “You—you could have anyone. You’re—you’re bright and wild and good. You come from money, you’re good-looking—” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Don’t start. You know you are. You could have someone who’s not... damaged. Not—”

“Stop,” Sirius snapped, rising to his feet. “Stop right there.”

Remus looked up, startled. Sirius was pacing now, running both hands through his hair. “You think I’m with you out of pity? Out of convenience?”

“I think you’re with me because you think you have to be,” Remus said, standing now too. “Because I’m broken and you feel responsible.”

“Responsible?” Sirius scoffed, eyes blazing. “You think I’m the responsible one in this relationship?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

Sirius moved closer, face inches from his. “You really think I look at you and see something broken?”

Remus didn’t answer.

Sirius stepped back. “Right. Fine.”

He disappeared into the kitchen.

Remus stood alone in the silence, unsure whether to follow or retreat. The air between them felt charged, uncertain, like a wand held too tightly.

Then Sirius reappeared, shoving his leather jacket on.

“Where are you going?” Remus asked.

“Out,” Sirius said. “To prove something.”

“What?”

Sirius didn’t answer, just slammed the door behind him.

The first thing Sirius did was show up at James'.

James opened the door in joggers and a shirt stained with baby spit-up. “You look like you’re about to punch a wall.”

“Just your face,” Sirius muttered, walking past him.

“Always a pleasure.” James followed. “What happened?”

Sirius threw himself onto the couch. “Remus thinks he’s not good enough for me.”

James blinked. “Has he seen you try to boil an egg?”

“This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing,” James said, sitting across from him. “I’m serious sorry, I mean—”

Sirius glared.

“Alright, alright. So he said that. Why?”

“Because he’s Remus. Because he thinks being a werewolf, or poor, or tired all the time makes him unlovable.”

“And you want to convince him otherwise.”

Sirius looked up. “Not just him.”

James tilted his head.

“I need to prove it to myself too,” Sirius said. “That I can love someone the right way. That I’m not just... my mother’s son.”

James’ expression softened. “You’re not.”

“I want him to feel it. Not just hear it. I want him to know that when I say I love him, I mean every damn part. The scars. The growls. The way he hoards books like a dragon. I want him to know he’s enough.”

“Then show him.”

Sirius spent the rest of the day doing exactly that.

He started by going to Flourish and Blotts. The clerk raised an eyebrow when Sirius slammed a list of obscure titles on the counter. “Planning to read them all?”

“They’re for someone,” Sirius said.

Next, he went to the corner bakery and ordered the exact kind of chocolate Remus liked—dark, with sea salt, and a hint of orange. Then to the secondhand shop down the road where he found a worn leather satchel that reminded him of the one Remus used to carry at Hogwarts.

He even stopped by the magical apothecary to restock the potion cabinet. The shopkeeper gaped when Sirius, who usually avoided the place like the plague, asked detailed questions about soothing balms and healing tonics.

And finally, he went home.

Remus was still there, still in the bedroom, sitting exactly where Sirius had left him.

“Hey,” Sirius said softly.

Remus looked up, eyes wary.

Sirius dropped everything on the bed. “These are for you.”

“What is all this?”

“Things you love. Things that make you feel safe. Things that remind you that I see you—not just the broken bits, but all of you.”

Remus opened the satchel, fingers brushing over the soft leather. “Sirius—”

“I love you,” Sirius said, voice shaking now. “Not despite who you are. Because of who you are. You’ve always made me want to be better. Not for you. With you. You see the worst in yourself and I still see someone who’s patient, and kind, and brilliant.”

Remus’ throat worked around a wordless noise.

Sirius stepped closer. “You think I deserve someone better? I don’t want anyone better. I want you. Always have.”

He lifted a hand, cupping Remus’ cheek. “I don’t care if you think you’re broken. I want every sharp edge. Every scar. Every midnight howl.”

Remus leaned into his touch, finally, finally breaking. “I’m scared,” he whispered.

“I am too,” Sirius said, pressing their foreheads together. “But I’d rather be scared with you than safe without you.”

Remus closed his eyes. “You’re a bloody romantic, you know that?”

Sirius grinned, a little wet around the edges. “Don’t tell anyone.”

They stood there for a long time, tangled in silence and warmth.

And maybe it wasn’t perfect. Maybe they’d fight again. Maybe there would always be dark days and doubts.

But in that moment, Sirius knew—no, they both knew—that love wasn’t about being flawless.

It was about choosing each other.

Again, and again, and again.

The days that followed weren’t exactly perfect, but something had shifted.

It was in the way Sirius started leaving little notes in Remus’ books — scribbled in the margins, tucked between chapters. Sometimes it was just a “you made it this far, proud of you,” and other times it was a silly doodle of a wolf in a cardigan drinking tea. Once, it was a folded scrap with a quote from one of Remus’ own essays, underlined and annotated with: this sentence made me fall in love with you all over again.

Remus found it during a full moon recovery, his limbs aching and his head heavy, and he’d pressed the note to his chest and cried without knowing why.

Maybe it was because he was finally starting to believe it.

Sirius was relentless — not in the loud, dramatic way people expected of him, but in quiet, deliberate ways that Remus wasn’t used to.

He fixed the creaky drawer in the kitchen. Stocked the pantry with Remus' favorite teas. Started bringing home wizarding crossword puzzles even though he was terrible at them, just so Remus could smirk and correct him.

Once, Remus woke from a nightmare, clawing at the sheets, gasping for breath, and Sirius was there before he could even say his name. He didn’t try to fix it. He just held him — arms wrapped tight, face buried in Remus’ shoulder, whispering, I’m here. I’ve got you.

And that night, Sirius didn’t sleep either. He just kept holding on.

They sat on the balcony one chilly evening, wrapped in mismatched blankets, the city lights blinking below them. Sirius passed Remus a mug of cocoa — made the proper way, with steamed milk and actual chocolate melted in.

Remus blew on the surface, then said, “You know I’m still not sure.”

Sirius looked over, brow creasing. “About us?”

“No.” Remus’s voice was soft. “About me.”

Sirius nodded slowly. “That’s okay. I’ll be sure enough for both of us, until you catch up.”

Remus laughed, hoarse and small, but genuine. “That’s an awful lot of faith to put in someone like me.”

Sirius leaned over, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’re someone worth putting faith in.”

They sat in silence for a while. The good kind — the kind that felt lived in. Comfortable.

Then Sirius said, almost absently, “You remember fifth year? After the Willow incident?”

Remus flinched, the memory still raw in places. “Hard to forget.”

“I was so sure you’d never forgive me. And honestly, you had every right not to. I was a right bastard.”

“You were a kid. A reckless, arrogant kid. But... yeah. You were scared too.”

“I was. Scared you’d never look at me the same. And maybe you didn’t for a while. But you did again. Eventually. You forgave me. You believed I could do better.”

Remus turned toward him. “You did do better.”

Sirius gave a crooked smile. “Because of you.”

Remus shook his head. “You’ve always had it in you. You just needed a reason.”

Sirius glanced sideways at him, a little teasing sparkle in his eyes. “So I’m your redemption arc, is that it?”

Remus smirked. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But he bumped their shoulders together and didn’t pull away.

The next full moon was worse than usual.

Remus had taken the potion, but it didn’t matter. Something about the shift this time — the tension in his body, the way the wolf clawed its way to the surface — it left him wrecked. Raw.

He was shivering in bed when Sirius returned from cleaning the shed they'd reinforced with every charm they knew. Sirius said nothing at first — just climbed in beside him, pulled him in close, and held on.

Remus whispered, “You don’t have to stay.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sirius murmured against his hair. “This is where I belong.”

“You don’t get tired of this? Of me?”

Sirius pulled back, eyes dark. “I don’t get tired of breathing, Remus.”

That made Remus laugh — a watery, broken sound. “You’re full of awful metaphors.”

“Only for you.”

He kissed Remus’ knuckles, one at a time, brushing over the scars. Then his collarbone. His temple. His heart.

And Remus thought maybe love didn’t have to come in grand gestures and sweeping declarations. Maybe sometimes it came in cocoa mugs and warm hands and the quiet, stubborn kind of loyalty that never gave up — even when you didn’t believe you were worth the fight.

Especially then.

Later that week, Remus was folding laundry — Sirius’ weirdly high number of band tees and very few socks, as usual — when he found a torn piece of parchment tucked in one of the pockets.

It was scribbled in Sirius’ handwriting. Not meant to be found, he could tell. Maybe a note to himself. Maybe something he didn’t have the courage to say out loud.

You are not hard to love. You are just used to being alone. But I’m not going anywhere.

Remus sat down on the floor and let himself cry again.

Not because he was sad.

But because, for once, he believed it.

[am0ralexis]

Falling in Love Slowly at 3AM (fluff) 🩷

You met Alex the way most people met online in 2018—through mutual chaos.

It was a Twitter thread about Toontown, of all things. Some dumb meme about how Cogs were the IRS and Toons were the resistance. He replied with something completely unhinged, and for whatever reason, you followed him back.

It was never supposed to be serious. Just someone to laugh with. Someone who understood being a little too online at 2 a.m. But the thing about Alex was—he was always around. And so were you.

And somehow, it just stuck.

The first call was for Toontown.

“DUDE. DUDE. Get on. I need backup for a four-story Cog building and everyone else bailed.”

You didn’t even know how he had your Discord, but you answered anyway.

“Are you really trying to do a boss battle at 1:40 in the morning?”

“Yes. I am committed to the bit.”

That night turned into three hours of gameplay, chaotic screaming, and gasping laughter when Alex misspelled his own Toon name and ended up running around as “Quacktiy” for the next hour and a half.

It was stupid. And fun. And easy.

You started playing more after that. Toontown, Club Penguin private servers, scribble.io, weird browser horror games that barely functioned. It wasn’t about the games. It was about the calls. The back-and-forth. The “holy shit I’m actually wheezing” kind of laughter. The random midnight messages:

Alex: “I can’t sleep so I’m watching conspiracy videos about Chuck E. Cheese animatronics. Want the link.”

You: “I’m in bed.”

Alex: “Coward.”

You: “Send it.”

He was all energy and sharp jokes when he was awake, but some nights he got quieter. Softer. You’d both be on a call, not even playing anything, just existing in the background of each other’s lives.

“Hey,” he’d say sometimes, voice scratchy and low from too many hours online, “you doing okay?”

And if you said no—he never tried to fix it. He just stayed.

“You wanna call again tomorrow?”

“Yeah. If you’re free.”

“I’m always free for you.”

You didn’t talk about that part. The part where “friend” didn’t quite feel like the right word anymore. Not yet.

It was slow.

So slow you almost didn’t notice the way his voice made you feel safe. The way your chest warmed when you saw his name pop up. The way he sent you music at 3 a.m. and said “this feels like something you’d cry to but in a good way.”

You started looking forward to the quiet calls more than anything else.

Sometimes he’d be half-asleep, mumbling nonsense into the mic.

“You ever think we’re like… weirdly good at this? Like the friend thing.”

“We spend five hours a day on Toontown together, Lex.”

“I know, but like. You get me. That’s not normal.”

He never said what that meant. You didn’t ask.

You just stayed in the call. Because some people were loud in your life for a moment, but Alex? He crept in through the cracks and made a home out of the spaces no one else saw.

He was your 3 a.m. comfort person.

And if you were honest?

You were pretty sure you were his, too.

————-

It was 3:12 a.m. when your phone buzzed.

Not a text.

A call.

Lex.

You blinked blearily at the screen, already halfway under your blanket, but your stomach dropped at the timing. He didn’t usually call this late. Not unless it was serious.

You answered immediately.

“Lex?”

He didn’t say anything at first.

Just breathing.

You sat up straighter. “Lex, hey. What’s wrong?”

There was a pause, then his voice—quiet. Cracked.

“Sorry. I didn’t know who else to call.”

Your chest tightened. “It’s okay. You can always call me.”

Another pause. Then:

“My dad threw my fucking Switch out the window.”

You blinked. “Wait—what?”

“I was just playing,” he said, voice rising and breaking all at once. “Literally just playing and laughing and being loud and he said I was annoying and I didn’t listen so he grabbed it and—threw it. Out. The fucking. Window.”

You could hear him swallow hard on the other end.

“I went outside after and it was just in pieces on the sidewalk,” he said, voice trembling. “And like—I know it’s stupid. I know it’s just a console but it was mine. It was the only thing that like—made shit feel normal sometimes.”

You sat in stunned silence, heart aching.

“It’s not stupid,” you whispered. “Lex, it’s not stupid at all.”

He exhaled shakily, and your gut twisted at the sound.

“I just—today sucked, okay? I don’t wanna be annoying, but like…” He sniffled quietly. “This girl I liked laughed when I told her. Like full-on laughed. Then told me she liked someone else. Like I was a fucking joke.”

You pressed a hand to your chest.

“And my brother keeps coming in my room being loud and touching my shit, and my sister’s barely home anymore ‘cause she’s got work or her boyfriend or whatever, and I just—I don’t know.”

You heard him go quiet again.

Then, soft as you’ve ever heard him:

“I think I’m just kinda lonely right now.”

You closed your eyes.

And because there wasn’t a single thing you could do from across the screen except be there, you whispered back the one truth you had:

“You’re not alone right now.”

Another pause.

Then his voice—barely there:

“…Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said. “You have me. Always.”

He didn’t say anything.

But he didn’t hang up, either.

The call stayed open. You stayed awake.

And that night, you just listened—through all the quiet breathing and the pauses and the way he kept randomly mumbling about stupid little things like Toontown bosses and creepy videos he’d never get to show you now.

You stayed.

Because you knew what he didn’t know how to ask for.

Because that night? You were home.

The call had gone quiet.

Not in a bad way—just that still, heavy kind of silence where everything’s been said and now it’s just… there. His breathing was steady, soft in your ear, but he hadn’t spoken for a while.

You didn’t want to push.

But you also couldn’t just sit there listening to him feel like that.

So you went scrolling—through your saved videos, through old Twitter likes, until you found something completely fucking stupid: a clip of some guy screaming “I LIVE IN SPANISH HARLEM BABY” while trying to grind a shopping cart down a rail and absolutely eating shit.

You grinned to yourself.

You clicked Share.

To: Lex

Caption: “this is literally you when you try to stream at 4am and knock your mic over”

Your phone buzzed.

“Did you just send me something?” he mumbled, voice still hoarse.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Just watch it.”

You waited.

There was a moment of silence as the video played.

Then—

“…What the fuck—”

And then it came.

That broken, wet, startled kind of laugh. The one that starts as a snort and dissolves into a full-on laugh-cry, like his body didn’t know whether to fall apart or hold it in. Like it hurt, but it felt good.

“Dude,” he sniffled between laughs. “What the fuck was that—”

“Tell me that’s not you, though.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

He was quiet for a second.

Then softly—so softly—

“No. I don’t.”

Another pause. Then, even quieter:

“Thanks.”

You didn’t say “for what.” You didn’t have to.

You just whispered, “Always,” and sat there, listening to the sound of his breath even out again.

After the video broke the silence, everything felt a little lighter.

Still heavy, yeah—but not crushing anymore.

You could hear it in the way he laughed. The way he cleared his throat after, like he was embarrassed for even making a sound that real. The way he quietly asked, “You got more?” like he didn’t want to risk breaking the spell.

You smiled. “Oh, do I.”

That night turned into a spiral of the stupidest, most cursed content you could find. Creepy PSAs that devolved into nonsense. Web cartoons with MS Paint animation and deranged voiceovers. A 2008-era Flash game with sentient salad. Half of it didn’t even make sense.

But that was the point.

He started talking more again. Laughing more, too. At one point he was literally crying from laughter at a video of a seagull getting hit in the face with a hotdog bun while a woman screamed in the background.

“Why does that feel personal?” he wheezed. “That’s like—me. That’s me as a bird.”

“Because you’re loud and dramatic and you’d absolutely start a fight in a Wendy’s parking lot.”

“You get me.”

You played a browser game together after that—something glitchy and chaotic where you had to avoid falling into holes while also throwing cheese at cartoon rats. You both sucked at it. You died within the first two minutes every time.

But he laughed. A lot.

And that meant everything.

It was sometime around 4:47 a.m. when you noticed the silence again—but this time, it was different.

You looked at your phone.

Still connected.

Still in call.

“Lex?” you whispered.

Nothing. Just soft breathing. Maybe a quiet sigh.

You waited a minute. Two.

He was asleep.

You didn’t hang up.

You pulled your blanket around your shoulders, dimmed your screen, and laid back down, still listening to the steady rise and fall of his breath through the mic. The little background noises. The comfort of just knowing he wasn’t alone anymore, even if he didn’t know you were still there.

“Goodnight, Lex,” you whispered.

And you stayed.

Like always.

——————-

It was almost 10 p.m. your time when your phone lit up with a Discord call. No warning, no message.

Just Lex is calling.

You blinked at the screen from where you were curled up in bed, hair in a bun, laptop halfway into an old comfort rewatch.

You smiled and answered.

“Hey—”

“Dude, I have the whole house to myself right now,” he said immediately, voice a little too loud and a lot excited. “They all left. They went out to dinner or some shit and I stayed behind and now I’m just here. Alone. With my own space. I’m basically an adult now.”

You laughed. “Oh wow. A king in his castle.”

“Literally!” he said. You could practically hear him grinning. “I’m drinking a Capri Sun and I just walked around in a towel for like fifteen minutes. I’m living the fucking dream.”

“Proud of you,” you said, giggling. “What are you gonna do with your freedom? Trash the place? Make an unhinged tweet? Run around shirtless listening to aggressive dubstep?”

“…Okay first of all, rude, that’s a Tuesday. But no. I actually wanted to show you something.”

There was a little shuffling on his end. He set the phone down, and you heard his voice come through a little distant. “Okay so like. Don’t make fun of me. But I’ve been learning this song on piano and it kinda reminds me of you.”

Your breath caught. “You play piano?”

“Not well,” he said quickly. “Just messing around. But I dunno. I played it earlier when everyone left and I was like, ‘I kinda wanna play this for her.’ So. Sit tight.”

You heard the creak of the bench. The sound of him settling in.

Then: the first few notes. Soft. A little uneven. But real.

You weren’t sure what the song was—something wistful and gentle, like the end of a rainy day. The kind of thing that made your chest ache in a quiet way. It wasn’t perfect, but it was him. You could hear it in the way he played. Like he was trying to say something without saying it.

It only lasted about a minute before he stopped and let out a breathy laugh.

“That was so cringe. I don’t even know why I did that—”

“No,” you cut in quickly. “That was really sweet.”

“…Yeah?”

“Yeah. I loved it.”

You could hear him smiling through the mic.

And even though there were thousands of miles and a two-hour time difference between you, it felt—for a second—like he was right there. In the same room. Sitting beside you on the floor, shy and proud, trying to impress you without saying he was trying to impress you.

“So,” he said, a little quieter now. “Wanna stay on the call while I fuck around with this? I can play you cursed versions of pop songs next.”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

“Perfect,” he said. “Let me just grab another Capri Sun and then I’ll play you the worst version of Bohemian Rhapsody you’ve ever heard.”

And you stayed on the line, smiling at your screen in the dark, listening to him mess up piano notes and yell at his cat—and thinking God, I really like this boy.

——————-

The next afternoon, you were on Discord again—this time with cameras on.

Alex was laid out across his bed in a hoodie, one leg flopped off the edge, hair a mess, the glow of his laptop casting a blue halo across his face. You were in your own room, still in pajama pants, sipping a drink and teasing him while he messed around with some dumb horror filter that made his eyes glow red on camera.

“So if I die, it’s because you summoned something with that cursed TikTok audio,” you said.

“Nah, if you die it’s ‘cause you keep watching true crime videos alone at night and then walking around your house like you’re not about to get haunted.”

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t haunt you too.”

“I’d let you,” he said without missing a beat. “I’d be like, ‘yep, that’s my ghost girlfriend. She throws shit at me and critiques my tweets.’”

You rolled your eyes, hiding your grin with your sleeve.

That’s when you heard it—muffled footsteps, a knock, and then a familiar voice from just offscreen.

“¿Mijo? ¿Estás hablando con una muchacha?”

Alex froze.

Eyes wide. Face flushing immediately.

His head whipped toward the door like he’d just been caught doing something illegal. “Mamá—¡espérate! Estoy—es—¡es mi amiga!”

Your smile exploded. “Oh my God.”

He turned back to the camera, looking like he was begging you not to say a word.

“Do not start,” he whispered, eyes wild.

Too late.

You were already wheezing. “Estás hablando con una muchacha, Lex??”

“Stop! She’s gonna get ideas.”

From the hallway, you could hear her again.

“Dile que la quiero conocer. Se oye linda.”

(“Tell her I want to meet her. She sounds sweet.”)

“MAMÁ.”

You were dying.

His mom poked her head in the room just enough to wave—smiling wide, clearly thrilled. You waved back, half laughing, half wanting to hide behind your laptop.

“¡Hola!” she said cheerfully.

“Hi!” you called back, grinning.

Alex covered his face with both hands. “This is the worst day of my life.”

“Aw, she’s so cute,” you teased. “I love her already.”

“She’s gonna start asking if we’re dating next and I’m gonna have to move to a different country.”

“Are we dating?” you said, just to watch him panic.

He choked.

“NO—well—I mean—we’re not—I mean, unless you—oh my God—”

You were laughing so hard you nearly dropped your phone.

His mom walked away with a satisfied little, “Muy bonita, mijo,” and he groaned dramatically, flopping backward across the bed.

“I’m never showing my face again,” he mumbled into his pillow. “I’m gonna turn into a PNG tuber or something. This is my villain origin story.”

You just smiled.

Because even with his face red, his hair a mess, and a mom who couldn’t stop stirring the pot, he was still the softest, most endearing thing you’d ever known.

And you were starting to think he might be your favorite person in the world.

It was late again—your usual time.

The call came in while you were brushing your hair in bed, your phone buzzing softly against your thigh.

Lex is calling.

You answered with a grin already tugging at your mouth.

“Hey, loser.”

“No hello, no ‘how are you’?” he huffed. “This is why our future marriage is doomed.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh God, not this again.”

There was a pause. Then—

“So my mom wants to know the colors for our wedding.”

You choked.

“What?”

“I’m serious,” he said, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “She was like, ‘What are your colors? You should coordinate with her.’ Like we’ve already set a date and everything.”

You burst out laughing. “You’re joking.”

“I’m so fucking serious,” he groaned dramatically, but when your screen lit up and you saw his face on the other end of the call—his hair still messy from the day, hoodie strings pulled unevenly, that soft, sleepy look in his eyes—you realized he was smiling.

Like, genuinely.

“Lex,” you giggled, “what did you say to her?”

“I panicked and said purple and silver.”

You gasped. “That’s actually so cute, what the hell.”

“I KNOW!” he shouted. “I nailed it by accident!”

You laughed until you couldn’t breathe, while he watched you through the screen, shaking his head and grinning like he’d just won something.

And when the laughter died down, there was a pause—one of those quiet ones that always felt heavier than it should.

“So…” you said softly. “Are you proposing or just pre-planning?”

He bit his lip and tilted his head.

“I dunno,” he said. “You wanna elope in Toontown?”

You smiled.

And your heart ached in that warm, terrifying, wonderful way that only Alex made it ache.

——————-

It was 2:41 a.m. when your phone buzzed. Not a text.

A call.

Lex is calling.

Your stomach dropped.

You didn’t hesitate.

“Lex?” you answered, voice rough with sleep. “What’s—”

But he was already breathing hard.

Shaky. Uneven.

You heard it in his voice the moment he spoke—

“Can I—can I just stay on with you for a bit?”

That was all he said at first.

Just that.

You sat up instantly, pulling your blanket tighter around you, heart racing. “Yeah. Of course. I’m here. What happened?”

Silence.

A sniff. Then—

“I didn’t wanna call you like this,” he whispered. “But I didn’t know where else to go.”

You pressed the phone closer to your ear. “Lex… talk to me.”

“My parents were fighting,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Bad. Like—yelling. And I don’t even know what it was about. I was just in my room and then shit was breaking and someone slammed a door and my sister started crying and I just—I didn’t know what to do.”

You stayed quiet. Let him say it.

“And I don’t wanna get in the middle of it again. I always try to calm it down and it doesn’t matter. They just keep going. And I feel so—fucking useless.”

Your chest hurt.

“Then my mom said something like—like this is why we’re falling apart and my name got thrown in there and I just—I just left the room.”

Another pause.

“I’m in the backyard now. Sitting on the steps. It’s cold as fuck and I don’t even care. I just didn’t wanna be inside.”

You swallowed. Voice soft. “Do you want me to talk or just stay on?”

“…Stay.”

So you did.

You stayed there in the dark, phone warm against your cheek, breathing with him. Whispering little things here and there to remind him he wasn’t alone.

“I wish I could be there,” you said once.

“I know,” he murmured. “Me too.”

And after a while—when the breathing evened out and the silence turned gentle instead of heavy—he spoke again. So soft you almost missed it.

“…I knew you’d pick up.”

You blinked back tears.

“Always, Lex.”

You’d both fallen asleep on the call.

His breathing had steadied sometime after 4 a.m., and yours followed not long after—phone still warm against your ear, the sound of his voice like a lifeline lulling you both into unconsciousness.

When you woke up, the call timer read 7 hours, 19 minutes.

You didn’t hang up. You just smiled and whispered, “Good morning,” even though you knew he was still asleep.

You didn’t hear from him for a few hours after that.

Not until the call came in again around noon—sharp, frantic, not like last night.

You answered instantly. “Lex?”

“I’m gonna lose my fucking mind,” he said, voice high, tight, panicking. “I’m literally gonna lose it.”

“Hey, hey—slow down,” you said, sitting up. “What happened?”

He didn’t slow down.

“My dad—he came into my room yelling at me like out of nowhere, saying I’m ‘wasting my time’ and I’m ‘too attached’ to someone I’ve never even met and that I’m not allowed to talk to you anymore.”

“What?”

“He said if I don’t stop—if I don’t block you and delete Discord or whatever—he’s gonna shut off the Wi-Fi entirely. Like completely. Like, no internet at all.”

Your chest twisted. “Lex—what the hell—what brought that on?”

“I don’t know!” he snapped, but not at you. Never at you. “It’s not like I’m doing drugs or sneaking out or—God, I’m just talking to someone who actually fucking cares about me, and that’s somehow the problem?”

“Breathe,” you said gently. “Lex, just breathe.”

He was quiet for a second—just long enough for you to hear the crack in his voice when he said—

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

Your eyes burned.

“You’re not going to.”

“He thinks just because he pays the bills he gets to decide who matters to me,” Lex said, voice shaking. “Like—fuck that. I’m eighteen. I’m an adult. What if I just—what if I left?”

“Lex—”

“I’m serious,” he said. “What if I just got on a bus or something? What if I came to Massachusetts? I’d figure it out. I’d sleep on your floor. I’d get a job. I don’t even care if I have to wash dishes or work at, like, a shitty corner store. I’d be there. With you.”

You blinked, heart hammering.

“Lex…”

“I’m not saying it to be romantic or dramatic or whatever,” he said, rushing now. “I’m saying it because I can’t keep doing this. Pretending like I’m okay here when the only thing that actually makes me feel like a real person is you.”

You didn’t know what to say.

So you said the only thing that mattered.

“I’d let you.”

That stopped him.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I’d let you stay. I’d let you figure it out here. You’d have me. That’s enough.”

He was quiet for a long time.

Then he laughed—really laughed. A little broken. A little relieved.

“God,” he said, “you’re gonna make me do it.”

Later that night, after hours of spiraling and half-joking about busing himself across the country, Lex went quiet on Discord for about 20 minutes.

You figured he needed a break, or maybe dinner.

But then your phone buzzed.

Lex: “DUDE.”

Lex: “DUDE HOLY SHIT.”

Lex: “Call me. Now. You’re not gonna believe this.”

You answered, laughing. “What, did another seagull get smacked by a bagel?”

“No,” he said, out of breath. “Worse. Better. I don’t know. I just checked my Twitch and YouTube payout dashboards for the first time in, like, forever, and—dude. I have so much money.”

You sat up. “How much is so much?”

“I don’t even wanna say it out loud because it feels fake,” he said. “Like I thought it was all gonna be, like, pennies and change, right? But apparently I’ve just been letting ad revenue stack, and Twitch subs? Dude. I have thousands.”

“Thousands?”

“Like. More than enough for a plane ticket,” he said. “More than enough to make this not some ‘teenage runaway’ bullshit. I could—I could actually go.”

Your heart started racing.

“You’re serious.”

“I’m so serious,” he said. “Like I could pack my stuff, make up some story about visiting friends, book a one-way ticket, and be there in like—two days.”

“Lex…”

“I’m not saying I’m doing it tonight or anything,” he said quickly, like he could hear your breath catch. “But I’m saying it’s not impossible. It’s not just a fantasy anymore.”

You were quiet.

He was quiet.

And then, softer:

“You really wouldn’t mind if I showed up?”

You didn’t hesitate.

“I’d be at the airport with a sign,” you said. “And snacks. And probably crying.”

He let out a breathy laugh, quieter this time. More real.

“I feel like this whole time I’ve been sitting here thinking I’m stuck,” he murmured. “Like my life’s not mine yet. But then I talk to you, and it’s like… I could have something else. Something better.”

You swallowed hard.

“I want that for you,” you said. “Even if it’s scary. Even if it’s messy. I just… I want you to be okay.”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then, in a voice so low it was almost a secret:

“I think okay is you.”

——————-

He called you right after.

His voice was tight. Off. You could hear it in the way he breathed before even saying your name.

“Hey,” he muttered, “so… my sister found out.”

You sat up straighter. “What happened?”

“She was borrowing my laptop,” he said, “and she saw the tab open with flights to Boston and, like, Discord open with our chat. I didn’t close it. I wasn’t even thinking.”

“Oh no…”

“She freaked out,” he said, voice strained. “Like, full-on what the fuck is wrong with you freaked out. I thought she was gonna cry.”

You didn’t know what to say. So you waited.

“She was like, ‘You can’t just up and fly to Massachusetts, Alexis. To meet some girl you met on the internet. Are you insane? You’re gonna end up on fucking Dateline.’”

You winced. “Shit.”

“I tried to explain. I tried, dude. I told her it wasn’t like that. That I’ve known you for years now, that it’s not some creepy scam. But she just kept saying I don’t know you.”

He went quiet for a second. Then, low and hoarse:

“And I told her you’re like… the main thing I have.”

Your breath caught.

“She just stood there, staring at me, and then she said, ‘Mom and Dad will lose their shit, even worse than they are now. Do you really wanna light it all on fire?’ And I—fuck, I didn’t know what to say.”

He sounded small now. Not broken. Just tired. Cornered.

You wanted to crawl through the screen and pull him out of that house yourself.

“I get it,” he whispered. “She’s scared. I don’t blame her. I would be that news story, right? But it’s like… it’s like no one wants to believe this could be good. That you could be real. That something in my life could finally make sense.”

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve.

“You’re real to me,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said. “That’s the worst part. You’re the most real thing I’ve got.”

You were quiet for a long time after that—just sitting with the weight of it. With everything he wasn’t allowed to want.

Then, barely audible:

“I’m not giving up on it,” he said. “Even if I can’t leave yet. I’m not giving up on you.”

It had been a few days since the blowup.

You hadn’t asked much—just gave Lex space, stayed on call with him when he needed it, sent him cursed videos to make him laugh when he looked tired, and answered every late-night “you up?” without hesitation.

But you could feel something shifting.

And then one night, just past midnight, he called you again.

“Hey,” he said, breathless and weirdly giddy. “Guess what?”

You smiled at your screen. “You finally beat me at Toontown trivia?”

“Okay, rude, but no. My sister talked to my parents.”

You sat up straighter. “Wait, what?”

“She told them about you,” he said. “Like—not in a ‘Lex is throwing his life away’ way. She said you’re good for me. That you’re the calm when everything else is loud. And that I’m better—happier—when I’m talking to you.”

Your breath caught.

“And?” you asked carefully.

He exhaled a laugh. “My dad backed off.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Lex said, sounding stunned even now. “I mean, he’s still doing his classic grumbly disapproval face or whatever, but he didn’t yell. He didn’t take the internet. He just said—‘Alright. Just don’t be dumb about it.’”

You blinked. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

You covered your face with your hands and laughed—relieved and dizzy with how easy it suddenly felt.

“Lex, that’s huge.”

“I know,” he said. “And I didn’t even have to fake my own death or move to a second location.”

You snorted.

There was a beat of silence after that, but not an awkward one—just a warm one.

And then, softer:

“I want you to know something.”

You sat up again. “What?”

“I’m getting more views lately,” he said. “Like, a lot more. My YouTube’s picking up. Twitch is actually taking off. I had a stream hit over a thousand viewers today and it freaked me out in the best way.”

“Lex, that’s amazing.”

“I know,” he said, and his voice went a little quieter. “And I’m really starting to feel like… this might become something. Like I might actually be able to do this. Like, for real. And when it does—when it keeps growing—I just…”

He trailed off, then tried again.

“I want you there. All the way through it. Not as a side character. Not as some background person I knew before shit got crazy. I want you with me.”

You swallowed hard.

“Are you asking me to be, like… your girlfriend?”

“I’m asking you to be my person,” he said, soft and sure and a little breathless. “My always. Because you already are.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until you wiped your cheek with your sleeve.

“Okay,” you whispered. “I’m in. I’ve been in.”

He smiled.

You didn’t have to see it—you felt it.

——————-

By the time his channel passed 100k, it didn’t even surprise you anymore.

You saw it happening before he did. The way his voice shifted when he streamed, how his jokes got sharper, how his edits got cleaner. The sudden flood of new followers, the TikToks people made using his audio. He was blowing up—and you were there for every second of it.

But what made you smile most?

He still called you for the dumb shit.

Alex: “BABE. Did you see this fucking comment?”

You: “Which one?”

Alex: “The one that says I look like if an emo pigeon had Wi-Fi access.”

You wheezed. “Honestly kind of flattering.”

“Thank you. Finally, someone gets it.”

You’d be curled up on your bed while he paced his room with the camera off, dramatically reading you hate comments in weird accents, sending you screenshots of DMs like “what do I even SAY to this person??” and immediately texting “nvm I blocked them lol.”

Sometimes he called just to vent.

“Dude, this creator with like 2 million subs just emailed me asking for a collab and I don’t even know what to say—like do I sound chill? Do I send an emoji? Should I not send an emoji??”

“Lex. Breathe. You’re allowed to sound excited. You’re not a brand, you’re a person.”

“But what if I sound like a loser?”

“You are a loser. But you’re my loser. So go be a lovable little gremlin in their inbox.”

“Holy shit, I love you.”

You’d talk through all of it. The stress. The weird brand deals. The friends who stopped talking to him because he was “too busy.” The ones who only started talking because they saw him getting big.

You were there through it all.

Not just the noise—but the quiet parts too.

The calls where he sounded small and unsure. The ones where he said, “I don’t know if I can handle this,” and you just stayed. Reminded him of who he was before all of it. Of the kid in the hoodie playing Toontown at 3 a.m., and how proud you were of him then, before the clout, before the chaos.

And when he called—nervous and overwhelmed and aching from how big things were getting—you answered every time.

“Lex,” you’d say, “you don’t have to be ready for everything. Just let me be ready with you.”

And that? That was everything to him.

[cubtales]

[digirainebow]

just so you know. I'm happy to know that maybe one of those stars I see in the sky is you. btw. that little kitten I see under the bushes on the way to a shop. that raven that stared fully and wholeheartedly at me when I caught eyes with it on a walk. that one shade of pastel I see once in a company logo.

i'm going to cry so hard right now. how do i know such caring and kind people who will just wax poetic about me in my askbox on tumblr. i am really very lucky.

[light-wrath-paradise]

When I start having a panic attack about visiting my family I know it's time to go to sleep immediately no ifs no buts

[morganbritton132]

Steve will drop lore on Eddie in this ‘everybody knows this, catch up’ kinda way when it painfully clear that everybody absolutely did not know this.

Like, Eddie asks Steve to move his chair so he can slide passed him like three time in the middle of a party at the Byers and is being ignored. Finally, he’s like, “Ground control to Major Asshole. Can you hear me?”

Steve’s only notices him because he kicks his chair in the process and is like, “Oh, sorry, man. Gotta talk on my other side. I lost my hearing on this side.”

Which, great.

Eddie feels like an asshole but he can actually put that to the side because the whole table is just like, “…what? Since when?”

“Um…” Steve says, like. Yeah. This is common knowledge. “Two years ago?”

One time in the middle of the summer, Eddie is ogling the freckles across Steve’s shoulders at a pool party when Steve yawns. Eddie jokingly asks if teaching Robin to drive tired him out that much and Steve’s like, “Nah, I had a seizure this morning. Those tire me out for days. It’s so annoying.”

“Woah,” because Eddie didn’t even know that was something on their radar. Neither did Nancy judging by the whole plate of hotdogs she just dropped on the ground.

Steve causally mentioned that he didn’t have his appendix anymore a couple weeks after they closed the gate officially. Eddie asked when he had the surgery expecting an answer to be when he was a kid, but Steve gives him a weird look like, “Uh, couple weeks ago.”

“A couple - what?” Jonathan sputtered from across the room. “A couple weeks ago, we killed Vecna.”

“Yeahh???” Steve rolled his eyes. “And then I had my appendix taken out. That’s what happens when you’re stabbed.”

“You were stabbed?!?”

“C’mon, man. You were there. Keep up.”

Eddie is shut up mid-sentence by lips against his and, wow. Whoa. Steve Harrington kissing him right now and Eddie should definitely kiss back but, “You like guys? I’ve had a chance this whole time?”

“I’m literally bisexual.”

[starkeysbunny]

tears [rafe cameron]

pairing - rafe cameron x reader

summary - rafe was a busy man. but, when his girl knocked on the doors of tannyhill with tears streaming down her cheeks—nothing was more important than her. and he’d fix whatever was bothering her. or whoever. he hated to see his girl cry.

warnings - none rlly, hurt/comfort, protective and attentive rafe

rafe sighed into his phone call when he heard a knock on the door. he stood in his father’s office—which was now his—pacing the room.

“hey, hey man, just hang on a sec, sorry.” he muttered to the potential investor before he put him on hold. he set his phone down on the desk and marched out of the office, curses and mumbles leaving his lips.

“somebody always fuckin’ needs something.” his hand rubs over his buzzed hair as his other hand curls in and out of a fist at his side. “goddamn. probably fuckin’ sarah and her stupid—“

his mumbles come to a halt when he opens the door and sees his girl standing there, tears staining her flushed cheeks. “rafe..” she whispers weakly, her frame shaking as she looks up at him.

“hey, hey, baby.” he says quickly, completely forgetting the phone call waiting for him as all his attention, worry, and concern is shifted to her. “what’s wrong, c’mere.”

his hand reaches for her wrist, pulling her into his chest. she lets out a quiet sob as she buries her face into his chest, stepping inside. he haphazardly pushes the door shut as he keeps her close to his chest and walks them both inside and through the foyer.

he whispers shh’s, and coos at her in his arms as he heads for the living room, sitting them both down. he softly pulls her from his chest, his head dipping down to her level. his hands come to her cheeks, wiping the tears off her soft skin.

“hey, baby, what happened? talk to me.” he says, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“i-i-“ she stammers, unable to get words out as she chokes on cries. her breathing quickens, getting close to hyperventilating. when she cries, she goes too fast, losing control of her breathing.

“hey, hey, no. don’t do that. c’mon baby, you know better. breathe, baby, breathe.”

she begins to slow down, her breathing coming back to normal. she keeps her eyes on rafe’s, slowly calming down.

“there ya go. atta’ girl. good job. breathe.” he praises, his head nodding softly as he watches her. once her breathing fully calms, she takes one last deep breath and wipes the last of her tears.

“now, gonna tell me what’s got your pretty little head so worried, hm?” he coos, his head tilting slightly. “what’s bothering you? who do i have to kill, huh?” he jokes with a grin. but to be honest—he probably wasn’t joking.

she sniffles, her eyebrows furrowing. “my uterus.” she whines. “i’m on my period. my cramps hurt like a bitch. and my mom is pissing me off.” she sniffles, stumbling over her words slightly. “and i’m hungry. and you weren’t answering, i know you’re busy. but i just really needed to see you, i’m sorry—“

“hey, hey, it’s okay.” he nods softly. “i’m here, it’s alright. i’m not busy, doesn’t matter.” he says matter-of-factly. he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. “what do you need? hm? i have that heating pad in my room i bought for you a couple months ago.” he whispers sweetly. “i can make you somethin? buy you stuff? i dunno, what do you need?”

he was willing to do anything, he didn’t care. when his baby cried, he’d move mountains to make her feel better. he’d go to every store in town, run up his credit card, do anything. as long as she got a smile on her face at the end of it.

she nods against his chest, looking up at him. “yeah.. the heating pad. and—and can you make me a grilled cheese? you make em’ so good.” she asks sweetly, her voice gentle and weak.

he smiles softly, looking down at the sweet girl in his arms. “yeah, baby, of course. i don’t know if they’re that good. everytime i make them, you’re usually drunk and it’s three in the morning. that might be why they taste so good.” he jokes.

she shoves his chest playfully. “i don’t care, you can’t fuck up a grilled cheese. please?”

he grins. “yeah, yeah. grilled cheese, heating pad. got it, baby. anything else?” he says thoughtfully, his fingers coming to push strands of hair off from where they stick to her tear strained cheeks.

she shakes her head. “just you.”

he smiles. “okay.” he kisses her forehead. “i’ll be right back, gimmie a few minutes to get all that.” he stands, making sure she’s laid comfortably on the couch. he grabs the blanket from the end of the couch and drapes it over her. his eyes search the living room, landing in the remote, he hands it to her.

he leans down, placing another kiss to her cheek this time. “put on whatever you want. i’ll be back, promise.”

he leaves her at the couch and heads back to the office. he picks up his phone and takes it off hold. “hey, gotta go. somethin’ came up. i’ll give you a call later.” he hung up before the guy could even get a word in.

nothing came before his girl.

[luludeluluramblings]

Neglected!Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family Part Three

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Four

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Sorry for the delay. My motivation fled for a bit and exhaustion hit me hard right before thanksgiving. I had to buckle down and just finish this.

A/N: I really wanna answer all my ask, there’s some things in there that y’all have sent me that I want to do for an AU of this. There’s just so many ideas I wanna try.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Warnings: Yandere themes, possible non-con (I only say possible, because Reader was drunk when consenting), fem!reader, possible violence towards Jason, my own made up headcanons.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

When you told Stephanie you were going to find out the gender of your little bean, you weren’t exactly surprised she wanted to have a gender reveal party. Though you did talk her out of the party aspect. You loved your friends, but you hadn’t told them about your pregnancy. Mostly because you knew they’d either accidentally spill the beans about said bean to someone they shouldn’t or they’d freak out and pester you about the unknown father.

It’s a shame you can only faintly remember dark hair, loving touches, and the heat from that night. You’d like to at least thank the man for giving you such gift. Even if said gift was making you throw up nearly every morning, constantly tired, and craving the oddest things with heartburn to follow.

Overall, things were going.

That was it. Things where just going. You were still looking for an apartment, but you were getting sidetracked a bit by nurseries. You knew you would love your child regardless of what they are or who they are. But, the little swan lake nursery was precious and the air plane nursery was darling. Both made you cry and change your mind on apartments at least six times. Hormones did not help with house hunting.

But, the day came. You went to your ultrasound and had them put the gender in an envelop to give to Stephanie for her to plan your day. You had to fight yourself from peaking at the paper, but, still, you waited the three extra days until you would find out the big reveal.

Unfortunately, Jason fucking ruined it.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Jason had been poking around the fridge. It was common for him to dig around the manor for food when he was there. Bruce was rich and groceries were expensive. (If he was looking for some of the princess’s cooking? That was his business.) But, he spotted something that stood out from the usual expensive organic fruits and vegetables and occasional meat.

“Hey, Alfred. Why is there a small cake in the fridge?" He could tell from the packaging it was from some fancy bakery. Probably one on the shiny posh side of Gotham. Which meant it would either taste like overpriced shit or absolutely delectable.

"That would be the young Miss's. I believe Miss Brown purchased it as a surprise." Alfred had replied from where he was currently taking inventory of the pantry. Maintaining a well supplied stock of the after mission snacks to proper management after all. Still, he did eye Jason from where he stood with his note pad. Knowing that Jason had a slight habit of causing trouble.

"Those two have been really close lately." Jason muttered suspiciously, mentally debating on if the cake was worth it or not with Alfred watching him.

"Dick is right. You really are starting to sound like Bruce." Duke and Cassandra had been sitting at the counter. Duke, having just gotten off patrol, had been in the kitchen to refill his water. While Cass had been munching on some snacks that she had hidden from the rest of them.

"Can it, light bulb." Came Jason's snarky voice as he silently popped the lid on the much to fancy cake open and pulled it out of the fridge. Alfred to far across the kitchen to stop him. "You know… This is a pretty big cake…"

"Jason, no." Even Duke knew it was a bad idea. If you had just gotten bold enough to through tubberware at Jason, God only knew what you might do if he ate a gift you'd been given. Plus, Steph would be on everyone’s ass for it. She was stingy with her money and everyone could tell she splurged for that cake.

"I would advise against that, Master Jason. Miss Brown already informed the young Miss of the cake and I believe that they wanted to have the first slices when they got back from their outing." Alfred knew you would happily share the cake, but, while he wanted to defend your sugary gift, he knew that that cake had a secret and for once Alfred couldn't restrain himself from wanting to be the first to discover it.

That drew both Cassandra and Duke's attentions away from the crime that was about to be committed. Both curious. The two of you really had gotten close. Cass only slightly tilted her head in curiosity while Duke had been the one to speak.

"Oh, they went out?"

"For pedicures, I was told. They are due to arrive back here shortly. "

"Well, if you wait, they might- Jason! Seriously?!" Duke had looked back to watch Jason slice into the cake with a spare butter-knife. Thankfully with enough finesse to not completely ruin your cake.

"What? The princess can share her damn cake-" He defends himself, about to grab a fork when he notices Cass looking directly at Alfred. "Why are you looking at Alfred like that?"

When she says nothing, Duke and Jason look at the tearful expression of Alfred's face. "Alfie, what's wrong?"

It takes a moment for them to realize that those aren't tears of anger or sadness as Alfred tries to compose himself. It takes Duke a few seconds longer to look at the slice of cake to connect the dots with a swiftness that would put Tim's title as second greatest detective to shame.

However, the only words that stumble out of his mouth in his shock are, "Jason, that cake is blue."

"Yeah, I know. Which is weird, but it taste great. Steph picked something really fancy for princess’s taste." Jason says finally taking a bite. It was good, Steph picked a good bakery. Not as good as Princess's homemade goods, but good enough.

"NO! Jason, why would a cake be blue?" The realization of what exactly Jason just ruined filled Duke with panic. This was going to be so much worse than the tubberware if he was right. So much worse.

Even Cass was a bit confused about the massive deal with the cake. She was more interested in the joy she was reading off of Alfred since that cake had been cut. She'd never seen the man so giddy, despite the only sign of any change in him was the misty look in his eyes.

"I don't know- Oh, great. The princess has returned." The sound of excited footsteps were heard heading towards the kitchen while Duke looked at Jason with anxiousness. Even Alfred seemed to brace himself.

As soon as you and Stephanie walked in the smiles dropped from your faces.

"Jason…. Tell me you didn't…" Stephanie murmured as she glared as Jason. Inwardly, she was excited. She had guessed correctly and won her own personal bet with herself. But, she comfortingly put a hand on your arm as you stared at the blue cake you didn’t get to cut.

Just from your expression, Duke can tell he might have been right and starts looking at Jason with an expression that screams, ‘Plead for mercy, you idiot.’

Alfred, thankfully, had enough sense to come out of his joy the moment he watches you walk up to the counter and look down at the cake with a despondent expression. His words comforting as he tries to ease the budding tension. “I'm so sorry, young miss. But, on the bright side-"

"Oh, come on, princess. You and Steph weren’t going to be able eat it all. You can afford to share. Besides, you’ve been looking a little pudgy lately anyway. Really need to stop acting like you’re eating for two."

Everyone looks directly at Jason in horror at what he just said. Seeing the spark of rage in your eyes makes Alfred take a step back in caution and Cassandra warns an aghast Duke of what she sees about to go down.

“Duke, duck.”

“Where?” He says in terrified confusion before suddenly your cake is slammed directly into Jason’s face with your hands coated in frosting.

"OH SHIT!”

"MISS!"

"Are you fucking crazy?" Jason stumbles back from the velocity of the cake to his face while he tries to wipe the buttercream from his eyes as you start berating him. Throwing everything in reaching distance at him. The bowl of fruit on the counter, the snacks Cass had been eating, even a pot from the stove.

"You ruined it! You ruined it! Alfred, where's the cast iron? I'm about to knock the dumbass outta him.” You start looking for something heavy, moving to dig through the cabinets with sugary fingers that are shaking with anger.

“About time someone did…” Stephanie mutters while she hides behind the counter to hide from the onslaught.

Before you can complete your search, Jason reveals just how well he preforms under pressure. Realizing a little too late what he might have just right when your hands find the cast iron skillet and your taking a swing at him.

"Wait! Wait! I'm sorry!" He barely dodged the hit with the sudden click of the information settling into his brain.

"You about to be sorry! This is the last straw, asshole. You fuckin' ruined it." You go to take another swing at him, nearly slipping in some frosting.

Jason’s eyes go wide before he risk a skillet to the face to catch you.

"You're right! I- Put that down, you're going to hurt yourself." He struggles to pull the pan from your sticky grip, not wanting to hurt you. This isn’t something he imagined having to use all his skills and talents for, but he thanks fuck he has them.

"Don't you tell me what to fuckin' do." You snarl while trying to hit him in the throat with your fist, causing him to almost let you slip.

"Jason!" Duke shouts out, knowing how bad it’ll be if you fall.

Jason tightens his grasp on you to the point your practically immobile, trying to calm you down with apologies and a panicked tone.

"Look, I'm sorry! I didn't realize-"

"That doesn't excuse you acting like a dick." You hiss, causing him to go silent as he tries to figure out how to fix this situation.

"You're right. It doesn't. But…" he trails off, leading to an awkward moment of silence

"Dude, you suck at this." Duke says before popping his head over the counter now that the cake and kitchen utensils have ceased to be airborne. Stephanie popping up next to him to give Jason an icy glare of her own while Cass stares at her ruined snacks. Alfred sighing as he runs the bridge of his nose from the similarities between old memories and the current scenario in the kitchen.

"Shut up, twinkle twinkle." He snarls before looking down a very pissed and most likely very pregnant you with a wince. "I… I know I'm a jackass."

"Astute observation, Master Jason." Alfred mutters while he behind to search for some cleaning supplies for the buttercream incident.

"Damn, Alfred's roasting you." Duke quickly shuts up when Jason gives him a lethal glare despite your futile attempts a wiggling out of his grasp. "Shutting up now."

Eventually you stop struggling, heaving in exhaustion and pitifully fighting back tears at your ruined gender reveal.

"I… Shouldn't be acting like a such an asshole. To you, specifically. You don't deserve that and I'm sorry." Jason tries as soon as he sees your lower lip start to wobble. He knows he’s prickly, but this is a new low that he’s not proud of.

"Now, you wanna apologize?" You’re honestly too emotional to deal with this. But, it’s the fact that he’s actually trying to give a meaningful apology when hardly anyone else does that makes you listen. Even if you’re mentally tearing him to shreds with your teary eyes.

"Yes. Now, I want to apologize." He sighs, putting you down. It’s quite a sit. Him not only apologizing, but him also doing it covered in white frosting and blue cake crumbs. "I'm… I'm not going to give you a bunch of excuses. I'm a jerk. But, I'm not heartless. I took this too far."

"You took it too far when you ate my frickin' fried cornbread." Comes your deadpan tone as you cross your arms. The fabric of your hoodie moving slightly to reveal the faintest of baby bumps.

"You're still mad about- You know what, fair enough. Don't eat the pregnant chick's food. Lesson learned." He starts to say exasperatedly before changing course at your stare and realizing he needed to suck it up.

“But, in my defense, it was really good.” He pipes off quickly, as an appeasing compliment.

Judging from the way your eyes further narrow and the reigning silence, he can tell he missed the mark.

Instead he tries to change course.

"Listen, I know this won't make up for it, but… I did see some vintage baby stuff in the attic when I snooped up there once."

"Oh, you found Master Bruce's old thing." Alfred exclaims with slightly raised brows. Coming back with Clorox wipes and all sorts of other supplies for the mess you had made. (He blames Jason, however. Don’t fret, dear one.)

"Wait, pause. Did you say those were Bruce's old baby clothes?"

"Yes, Master Jason.”

“I thought those were little girl’s baby dress. They looked like something a goth Victorian child mixed with a pilgrim would wear."

“I assure you they are Master Bruce’s.”

Everyone suddenly has a collective thought and a mighty need. Cake forgotten momentarily.

"Alfred, are there pictures of him in those clothes?" You ask with barely contained mischief, all anger and sadness gone as delight fills you. Mood swings could be such a blessing and a curse.

“Why, I do believe so.” There was a hint of knowing in Alfred's tone. One that also was finding delight in the idea he knew was passing through everyone's minds.

Immediately, and with renewed vigor, your head whips to Jason.

"Help me find the pictures and get me some Jokerized fries-."

"And, throw in a foot massage." Stephanie adds before you can finish. The suggestion causing Jason's eyes to widen while Duke shudders.

"What?!"

“Eww.”

"I kinda don't want him touching my feet. Too weird." You say. Even if they do ache often your not sure you really want the guy who had made your life hell before touching you so much. Even if he was apologetic.

“Oh, thank god.” He mutters under his breath before Stephanie speaks up again.

"Then let me have one. I bought the cake and I was looking forward to it. I had to fight the temptation not to spoil the surprise."

"I feel like that was a pun." Duke mutters.

"It wasn't."

A lighter tone settles over the kitchen as Alfred starts to clean. You tried to help, feeling embarrassment at having made such a mess. But, everyone else had stepped in to pick up the slack on account for your condition as Duke called it.

"Did you ever figure it out, Cass?" You asked curiously as you sat at the counter. A bit surprised that she hadn't disappeared as soon as the whole things had started. You both had always been cordial with each other. However, you knew she preferred to be alone at times. Hence, your lack of interaction. You had assumed she would have fled by now.

"Thought you had a stomach bug. Not a baby. This is better." Comes her short response. There's a subtle hint of wonder on her face. She's gotten better at sharing her feelings with other's so it's nice to see such an expression.

"Am I the only one terrified of how calm she is after she just threw an entire cake at Jason and was about to cast iron him?" Duke says while he finishes wiping the frosting from the skillet you had wielded earlier. The question causes Alfred to chuckle when you give Duke a narrowed look yourself.

"I remember Miss Martha throwing a chair at Master Thomas when she was pregnant with Master Bruce, so this, I dare say, is quite tame."

That comment makes more than a few eyebrows to raise and Jason to let out a whistle, while also realizing that is could've been worse for him in the long run.

"Why'd she do that?"

"Bruce decided to grace the world with his presence in the middle of the night."

"Ha!"

"I always knew he had been more in the dark."

Snickers could be heard before Alfred continued to explain. It was rare he got to share such stories.

"And, Thomas made the foolish mistake of asking her if she could hold Bruce in until a more reasonable hour."

"Alfred, he was a doctor." Stephanie points out.

"In his defense. Neither had slept for that entire week from the anticipation of Master Bruce’s arrival. But, really should have kept quiet on the matter. We would still have that lovely cherry wood chair if he had."

A round of laughter could be heard. You had laughed so hard that there were tears in your eyes as you giggled your way up to the attic.

Things had been ruined, but things had gotten better. If only they could stay better.

Down in the Batcave, Tim had gotten a message in between a few of the cases he was currently working on.

"Jon and I will stop by tomorrow, my dude." He read while taking a sip of this third energy drink for that afternoon. He only nodded in acknowledgment before going back to his work.

Elsewhere, on the Kent family farm, Conner grinned excitedly at his phone before tucking it away and stretching. He'd be seeing his favorite person tomorrow. Hopefully when they saw him they'd remember the best night of their life. It was definitely his.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: As funny it would be to have Conner just be a sweet goof, I want him to be yandere for this. I struggled to include that last part to show it, but hopefully it works.

A/N: Also, this is the calm before the storm. I kinda wanna try to make it angsty next chapter. And, not gonna lie, it might be brutal. But, I wanna challenge myself so when I make an AU I can do a good job on it.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who voted in the poll! I had been planning on a girl for Reader, so I was a bit surprised. Might save that for the AU. Time to name pick, and if y’all want y’all can suggest nurseries. Can’t guarantee we’ll do polls for them, but it’ll still be fun.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Taglist

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[whosashan]

hello! good day to youuu, can i make a request for the lads men? in which reader is not the mc and here's the prompt: having to beg them to do something with you then seeing them doing it with mc willingly, sorry english is not my first language but pleaaaseeee 😭 i love some angst.

Bitter

Pt. 2

PAIRING: Love and Deepspace men x non-mc!reader

SYNOPSIS: Watching the one you love partake in what you once pleaded to share—a quiet betrayal—feels like an arrow through the heart, swift and merciless. (angst, no comfort)

A/N: Thank you for the request, it came out more as a drabble. Hope you enjoy!

Xavier

What a bitter, gutting thing it was—to stand in the shadows and watch him shine for someone else. To see the light in his eyes, the easy laughter, the quiet devotion as he did for her what he had never done for you.

The one thing you once begged for. The one thing he had denied you.

But not her. Never her.

She was fate’s beloved, the one woven from the same celestial thread as him, bound to him in ways you never could be. You had always told yourself to be rational, to be understanding. Xavier came with a past. He came with baggage.

And inside that baggage, nestled close to his heart, was her.

The woman you would envy until the world turned to dust.

And yet—how could you ever bring yourself to hate her? When she was made of kindness, of soft edges and warm light? When she looked at you with nothing but affection, oblivious to the ruin she left in her wake? She was an angel. A blessing. A curse.

And fate, it seemed, had always been on her side.

So there they were, walking side by side, woven together so seamlessly it was almost poetic. Almost cruel. Her bags in his hands, the weight of them carried so effortlessly—as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

And yet, when you had asked for the same—just a simple day together, just a moment of his time—he had sighed, shaken his head, told you he was too tired. That work was too much. That he simply couldn’t.

But now, watching him with her, you couldn’t help but wonder—did she take his exhaustion away? Did her presence breathe new life into him in a way you never could?

The answer settled deep in your bones, cold and unrelenting.

Your friend beside you said nothing, only looking at you with that quiet, suffocating pity that made your stomach turn. Because there was nothing to say. Nothing to soften the truth you had known all along.

You were not his first thought in the morning. You were not the name on his lips when he passed a garden of wildflowers. You were not the presence lingering in his mind when the world grew quiet.

And you never would be.

You had spent so long fighting against it. Xavier loves me. He chose me. The words had been your lifeline, a fragile, trembling thing you whispered into the silence. But even your friends never seemed convinced.

And now, neither were you.

So you did the only thing you knew how to do.

You turned away.

No confrontation. No desperate pleas for an explanation that would only come laced with half-truths and empty reassurances. What good was honesty when it had never been yours to begin with?

When he came home that night, his lips still curved with the ghost of a smile, he found an emptiness he had never felt before. Your things, your presence—gone, as if you had never been there at all.

And in your place, only a single note remained.

"I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for. Because clearly, it was never me."

And Xavier, poor Xavier, would stand there, reading those words over and over, grasping at the fraying edges of something he had never truly held onto.

But then again—

Xavier had never noticed his wrongdoings.

Not until there was nothing left but the weight of his own ruin.

Zayne

Zayne—or Dr. Zayne, as she called him—had always been a good man. A gentleman in every sense. Caring, affectionate, endlessly considerate.

But never for you.

His tenderness felt practiced, his affections routine. As if he wasn’t loving you, but fulfilling some unspoken obligation. A kindness given not out of devotion, but out of mere habit.

And you had tried to ignore it. Swallowed your doubts, convinced yourself you were overthinking.

Until you saw them together.

Her.

The one fate had tied him to. The one who never had to ask for his attention, because it had always belonged to her.

Her laughter lit up rooms before she even stepped inside. Her eyes gleamed like sunlight catching on water—brilliant, hypnotic, impossible to look away from. And neither could he.

And then, there was the picture.

A simple post, one she likely uploaded without a second thought, oblivious to the quiet devastation it would bring.

There she was, sitting in his office. Smiling. At ease.

Sharing lunch with him.

Something you had never been allowed to do.

You had asked once—just to drop by, to see him, to spend even a sliver of time together in the place he spent most of his days. But he had refused, brushing you off with a gentle but firm, “I don’t want distractions.”

And yet, there she was, sitting across from him, urging him to eat the food she had made, as if she had every right to be there. And maybe she did.

They had known each other forever. That was what you told yourself—Of course, they’re close. Of course, they understand each other in ways I never will. You had tried to accept it. To be understanding.

But then you saw the way he looked at her in the picture.

The softness in his eyes. The quiet, unguarded devotion.

Like she was the only one who could unravel him, the only one who could slip past his carefully built walls.

You had spent so long trying to do the same, but you never even made a crack.

And so, that was the moment you made a promise to yourself.

You would not be someone’s second choice. You would not collect the scraps of his affection while she—effortless, radiant, destined—was given everything you had ever wanted.

And Zayne noticed.

He noticed in the silence. In the missed calls that went unanswered, the messages left on read. In the bouquets left wilting at your doorstep, the petals curling at the edges.

Roses.

Her favorite flowers.

Not yours.

And that was all the confirmation you needed.

Zayne was never the gentleman you thought he was.

Or perhaps, he was. Just never for you.

Or maybe—maybe it was fate itself that was cruel.

Rafayel

Something inside you cracked, splintering like fragile seashells beneath careless hands—shattered beyond repair, beyond mending.

It wasn’t a sudden break. No, it had been slow, creeping in like the tide, eroding the edges of your love bit by bit, pulling pieces of you away before you could even notice you were unraveling.

And now, the final wave had come, and it had taken everything with it.

Because there he was—your Rafayel—kneeling beside her, smiling in a way you had longed to be the cause of.

The sight alone stole the breath from your lungs.

You had spent so long pretending not to notice. Ignoring the way his gaze always sought her out, the way his voice softened just a fraction when he spoke to her. You had swallowed the ache, told yourself it didn’t matter.

"That’s just the way he is," you had whispered, time and time again.

But it had never been the way he was.

It had only ever been the way he was with you.

And now, you knew why.

Rafayel hated cats.

You remembered the way his nose had scrunched when you had once tried to feed a stray by the docks, the way he had flicked his fingers as if to ward the creature away. “Little beasts,” he had muttered, half-amused, half-disgusted. “I don’t understand how you humans tolerate them.”

You had laughed then, nudging him playfully. “You’re just jealous they’re cuter than you.”

And yet—here he was.

Crouched beside her, cradling a trembling kitten in careful, delicate hands, his expression softer than you had ever seen it. His touch—usually teasing, fleeting, always just out of reach—was steady, warm, tender.

For her.

Not for you.

Something cold curled around your ribs, sinking deep, making it harder to breathe.

It was never about the kitten.

It was never about the things he couldn’t do.

It was about the things he never wanted to do for you.

And watching him now, so unguarded, so effortlessly kind, made you wish you had never met him at all.

Rage and sorrow burned through your veins, curling beneath your skin like a sickness. You wanted to rip that stupidly charming smile from his face, wanted to demand why he had never looked at you like that.

But there was no point.

So you turned and walked away.

Ignoring reality, just as you had once tried to ignore fate.

But fate never ignored you.

And something in the air told you—Rafayel wouldn’t either.

Sylus

Sylus had never been an easy man to love.

Sharp edges, cold precision—every move calculated, every word spoken with intent. He was not a man swayed by sentiment, nor was he one to entertain trivial affections.

You had known this from the start.

And yet, knowing had never stopped you from wanting.

So you learned to take what little he gave you—stolen moments in the dead of night, whispered conversations where he let the ice thaw just enough for you to believe there was something beneath it. But always, always, he kept his distance, his affections measured, restrained.

"This is who I am," he had told you once, when you asked why he never let himself soften. "I don’t have the luxury of being gentle."

You had believed him.

Until now.

Until you saw him, standing there in the dim glow of a high-rise restaurant, his head tilted ever so slightly toward her. The woman fate had written into his story, the one whose presence seemed to unravel him in ways you never could.

His fated one.

And in front of them, two untouched glasses of wine.

Wine.

The very thing he had refused to share with you.

"I don’t drink with others," he had said once, his voice clipped, final. "It's a pleasure reserved for my time alone."

But now, here he was. Sharing a glass with her. His fingers resting idly against the stem of his glass, his expression unreadable yet undeniably present. He was here. Fully. With her.

A man who never entertained distractions, utterly enthralled.

The way he looked at her—it was something different. Something you had never been granted. There was no calculation in his gaze, no careful restraint. No cold, distant amusement.

Just quiet acceptance. As if she had been meant to sit beside him all along.

And that was when you knew.

You could tear yourself apart, try to become everything he had ever wanted, and it still wouldn’t matter. Because fate had already made the choice for him.

And it wasn’t you.

Still, you lingered a moment longer, letting the pain settle, letting it carve its lesson deep into your ribs.

And then, without a word, you turned and left.

Because you, too, could learn to be cold.

Caleb

Caleb had always been warm. That was the problem.

He had a way of making you believe you belonged there—tucked into his arms, held close by quiet promises and easy smiles. He made you think you mattered.

But there was always her.

His childhood best friend.

Not bound by fate, not chosen by some cosmic force—just there. Always. In every story he told, in every old memory that made his eyes soften with something you could never quite reach. The one who had been with him before you, the one who had held his hand through storms you’d never even known existed.

And you told yourself it wasn’t a competition.

Until the night you saw them.

The neon lights of the karaoke bar cast the whole street in a soft glow, music and laughter spilling from inside as you walked past—until something, someone, made your steps falter.

Through the open doors, past the booths and glowing screens, you saw him.

Caleb.

Standing there, microphone in hand, singing.

With her.

The sight knocked the breath from your lungs.

"I don’t like singing in front of people," he had told you once, shaking his head with a sheepish smile when you begged him to join you for just one song. "It’s embarrassing. I just—I can’t, okay?"

But now, here he was.

Swaying slightly, smiling as their voices blended together in a song you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t perfect—his voice cracked in places, he missed a beat or two—but that didn’t matter. Because he was trying. Because he was enjoying it.

Because she made him feel safe enough to do what he had never done for you.

Your stomach twisted.

It had never been about singing.

It had been about you.

You should have walked away then. Should have swallowed the lump in your throat and turned back, should have spared yourself the cruel spectacle of watching them.

But you didn’t.

You stayed long enough to see the way he laughed when she nudged him playfully. The way he looked at her, unguarded, free. The way she reached for his hand without hesitation—because she knew it would always be there, waiting for her.

And for the first time, you realized—maybe you had never been holding his hand at all. Maybe you had only been grasping at the space he left behind.

Something cold settled in your chest.

You didn’t wait for him to notice you.

You just turned, and left, without a sound.

And Caleb, too caught up in a song meant for someone else, never even saw you go.

[meowmewmews]

𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

minors don’t interact!!!!! 18+ only mature content under tab

synopsis : sol was obsessed with you the moment he laid eyes on you. you were his soulmate. he’d make sure no one else would touch you. he is the only one who can satisfy you. don’t you know that?

warnings : yandere, masturbation, obsessive behavior, stalking, somnophilia, cnc, dubcon, predatory behavior, smut, long word count, drugging, grinding, penetration, very rough sex, whiny submissive Sol at one point, and dominant Sol at another point.

author’s note : if you just want to read smut skip to sections with the 🍋 icon

long word count (11.7k+ words) i mean this might as well be split into different chapters but i don’t want to do that, also i decided to change him referring to you as pumpkin to something else sorry. gave him a tongue piercing because it sounded fun >:3 also i hate tumblr formatting so read on ao3 if you want . (gloomy_kitty)

also not 100% lore accurate

thanksss to my friend who proofread this for me!!

Sol was obsessed with you and had been since you first arrived at the school. The moment his scarlet eyes landed on you something strange was awakened within him. It felt like love at first sight—no it was love at first sight. Did you remember your first encounter? No, it was so long ago you probably hadn’t. He did though, he remembered how he felt so vividly. His heart pounded in his chest, butterflies fluttered in his stomach, and his breath hitched making it difficult to breath the moment he had seen you. That cute library assistant that worked on campus. He remembered how he had walked up to you at the counter, asking for a book for class. How you went out of your way to help him find it, not complaining a single time.

“You absolutely need this book for your class right?” You asked him, sighing in defeat after nearly an hour of searching the library.

“Yes, but if you can’t find it don’t w-“ Sol began, a bit irritated that this was required for his passing grade. But he’d just ordered it online and prayed it arrived on time before finals.

“No. I know we have it. Don’t worry I’ll find it. Just give me another day. Here write down your info and I’ll give you a call once I do.” You said determinedly, sliding a sticky note and pen towards him. “O..okay.” He mumbled and wrote down his information. He fully expected you to not ever find the book or just forget to call him to let him know of your findings. But the very next morning he received a call from an unknown number. “Hello?” He answered.

“Hi this ______ from the school’s library. I found the book you were looking for. It’s reserved at the front desk. If I’m not here just let whoever is at the counter know your name.” You said, he could tell that you were quite happy.

Sol’s eyes widened in shock, you really found it. He responded back with a simple thanks and during a free period he went to the library. There he saw you shelving away books, a content expression on your face. Awkwardly he walked up to you clearing his throat, when he realized you had an earbud in. You jumped in surprise, dropping the book you were holding. Then, at the same time you and Sol reached down to grab the book. Your hand on top of his for a brief second before you pulled away. It felt like a bolt of electricity shot through him. “Whoops! Oh hey you’re the guy from yesterday!” You laughed quietly as he handed you back the book. With that you checked him out reminding him that late fees would occur if he didn’t bring it back on time. You explained how you stayed over an hour after your shift to find what he was needing, then it turned out it was in the completely wrong genre! A historical book tucked away with comics, how egregious!

When Sol asked why you did that you shrugged, simply saying, “I don't want anyone to fail their first semester because I was too lazy to find a book for them. It’s my job after all.” You flashed him a smile. As you handed it over your fingers brushed over him for another brief moment. That same electric feeling coursed through his body. It was that moment something had awakened inside Sol. He was obsessed now.

That memory played in his head for over a year, he had found out your first name. One day when sitting in the library “studying” he overheard you telling a blonde girl about how excited you were for your art class in the fall then you explained what period it would be. Since there was only one introduction to art class that fall semester for the period before lunch, he was going to enroll in art class regardless so might as well make sure he was in yours. Everything had been planned out. Sol didn’t leave any detail forgotten.

He got to class early, sitting in the back of the classroom. He placed his backpack on the chair next to him and anyone he tried to sit next to he glared at, causing them to scurry away. Now he just needed to wait for you to arrive, you’d have to take the only available seat open next to him in a full class.

Like he planned There were no more seats left in class, you had arrived a bit late, only barely beating the bell. He watched as your eyes darted around the classroom looking for somewhere to sit, then a relief look washed over your cute face when you spotted the open seat next to him. Quickly you made your way over pulling out the chair, “Is this taken?” You asked him, already beginning to slip off your backpack.

“N..no.” Sol replied avoiding your gaze, he was focused on his sketchbook, his pencil tapping against the book as he tried to control his breathing. “Oh thank god.” You sighed in relief, finally taking your seat. Rummaging through your backpack you pulled out all the essentials you’d need for art class. It worked. His plan went perfectly!

Sol found it difficult to concentrate on the professor’s words as he discussed basic art fundamentals, he just kept glancing over at you. Your perfume smelled so intoxicating, it drove him wild. The way you studiously jotted down notes was so adorable. Then class ended much to the man’s horror, he hadn’t written down a single thing but most importantly you gathered your things to leave without saying a word to him. He lingered in the classroom a bit, slowly shoving his sketchbook back into his backpack.

A couple days passed before he could see you again, and the whole time he found it difficult to think about anything else other than you. Sol was a bit angry at himself for not even speaking to you, that was his chance to reintroduce himself. He would talk to you next time, he promised himself.

The next class came and you were once again in the same predicament as last time. Arrived to class right before the bell went off and the only seat opened was next to the same guy as before. Not that you minded, he seemed nice enough. “Hey.” You greeted him quietly as you sat down before taking a seat. “Hi.” He returned your greeting quietly. He once again didn’t speak to you and that cycle went on for some time, before finally he had an excuse for the two of you to speak. He wasn’t sure why he kept shying away from you. Shit, he could barely even concentrate in class.

Then the next class came. “Everyone, please pair up with the person beside you, I want you and your partner to discuss today’s chapter.” The professor mumbled as he took a seat back down at his desk, immediately kicking his feet onto the desk and tapping away on his phone.

Turning around with a sigh you looked at your partner with a smile, “Hi. Thanks for always saving me a seat. I’m ______.” You introduced yourself, then gave the dark haired man an encouraging nod to speak. I know what your name is. He thought. Sol rubbed the back of his neck, nervously avoiding your eyes, his gaze fixated to the side. “Yeah it’s no problem. I’m..Sol.” He introduced himself back, hoping that maybe you remembered him.

“Nice to meet you, Sol.” You chimed in reply, holding your hand out. He looked at your hand, then back at you before he shook your hand back. “Yeah, same.” He said, a small smile making its way to his pierced lips. The moment your hands touched, he felt his heart do a leap, and without meaning to he held onto your hand for a bit longer than usual. Though upon realizing that, he quickly pulled his hand away. Either you didn’t mind or just didn’t notice it, as you immediately turned your attention back to the textbook. So you didn’t remember him, that was okay it’s not like he ever went out of his way to speak to you at the library.

“So, this chapter…” you began as you pushed the textbook to the center of the table so you both could share. Sol didn’t speak too much, he was more interested in what you had to say, he nodded attentively and hummed in acknowledgment when he agreed with something you said. The professor didn’t seem too interested in teaching class, so the reminder was spent just conversing. You giggled as Sol said something as you playfully slapped his arm, “What, no way? You did not!” You quietly exclaimed as Sol told you a story. He nodded, “Yeah I really did. It’s embarrassing but it’s the truth.” He laughed softly. Every single fucking thing was so adorable about you; your name, laugh, appearance, personality, every single thing was so adorable. Then just as Sol was about to open his mouth to speak again, the bell rang.

Jumping up in your seat, you pushed the chair back, quickly gathering your belongings. “I gotta go, Sol. But you’ll save me a seat again right? I really enjoyed talking to you.” You asked, looking at him with the cutest expression. “Yeah of course.” He reassured you. “Thanks, you’re the best!” You said and with that, you rushed out of the classroom.

As Sol finished gathering his own belongings, he noticed something sitting on your chair. Your jacket was left behind. He grabbed it and quickly walked out of the classroom to see if he could catch up to you, but of course you were nowhere to be seen. ‘I’ll hold onto it. Give it to her next class.’ He thought to himself.

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“Woah, that's a cute jacket! You seeing a cute girl?” Hyugo asked his friend. The pair sat at their usual spot on the rooftop eating their lunches. Sol rolled his eyes, “No. The girl who sits next to me in art left it, I’m going to give it to her next class. I just didn’t want it to get lost.” He explained as he continued to eat. He could bring it to you at the library where you worked part time but no, he just wanted to hold onto a bit longer. It was a cute jacket, he couldn’t lie - it was black with striped sleeves and an adorable black cat patch was ironed onto the front. It suited you perfectly.

“Aren’t you so sweet?” Hyugo teased, causing his friend’s face to heat up. Sol grumbled under his breath as he just ignored the comment and continued to eat, only causing the other to laugh. As the bell rang, signaling that their final class of the day would begin and marking the end of their lunch break, the pair stood up. Sol gathered the bento boxes, placing them in his backpack.

“Are you doing anything after class?” Hyugo asked before they parted ways. Sol wasn’t, but he needed to spend some time alone, there was an issue he needed to take care of. “Yeah.” He simply responded. “Aw okay, I’ll just go to the arcade by myself then.” He shrugged before walking off.

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It was dark already when Sol arrived back to his small studio apartment, the short winter days meant it would always be night when he got home. The dark haired man sat his bag on a chair, taking out the bentos to wash. He remembered your jacket was still in his hands, so carefully he placed it on the top of the couch. And so he did his usual evening routine; cleaning dishes, cooking dinner and lunch. The television was playing a show he really had no interest in watching, but it was good background noise.

But he just couldn’t stop thinking about you, eyes flicking to the jacket on the sofa as he prepared his and Hyugo’s lunches. Sol felt the crotch of his pants tighten uncomfortably against him, he swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as his heart rate accelerated. But he remained focused just hurrying to finish dinner as soon as possible so he could shower and lay in bed. Tomorrow was early classes after all.

Finally after some time Sol had showered and flopped onto his bed, an exhausted sigh escaping his lips. He closed his eyes as he tried to focus on anything other than you. But his boxers were so incredibly tight, his erection wouldn’t go away no matter what he tried to do. It felt wrong to touch himself to you, so resisting the urge Sol finally fell asleep. Tonight at least he was able to resist the urge.

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The next day of classes came and nothing extraordinary happened. Sol couldn’t spot you anywhere, he supposed he would have to wait until tomorrow to see you and return the jacket. His evening routine was more or less the same, but as he laid in bed tonight, the urges were getting harder and harder to resist.

Sol tried to squeeze his eyes shut, trying to think of anything else other than the raging erection in his pants right now. His gaze kept flickering to your jacket, he was reminded of how amazing you smelled. He just wanted to smell the perfume again, there was no harm in that…right? Quickly getting out of bed, he snatched your jacket from the couch, immediately pressing it to his nose. Oh god, you smelled so fucking good. He was intoxicated by the scent, his eyes rolling back as he took in your smell, and without even realizing what was happening, his hands trailed down his torso until they slipped under the waistband of his boxers. His long slender fingers immediately wrapped themselves around his erection.

Sol began to pump his cock, a whimper leaving him as his thumb grazed over his tip. Precum was already pooling at the slit, his face still buried in your cute jacket. He could only imagine what it would feel like to have his face buried in your hair, neck…your pussy. He fantasized how amazing you would taste as his face was between your thighs, he’d make you feel so good. He had wanted you for so long now.

“_____…._______….” Sol whimpered your name, scarlet eyes fluttering shut as his pace quickened. At this point he was panting heavily, a complete mess and if your mere scent was doing this to him, he couldn’t imagine how he’d act during the actual act. His cock twitched in his hand and legs trembled; he collapsed onto his knees. He was now thrusting himself eagerly into the palm of his hands, precum lubricating his cock. Sol’s moans echoed throughout the apartment and he felt the warm sensation building up in his core, then with one final thrust he came loudly. “Oh fuck ______!” He cried out, his cum making an absolute mess of his boxers.

Riding out his orgasm he finally came to a stop and dropped the jacket onto the floor. His chest moving up and down as he tried to catch his breath, the whole of his body was a hue of red and warm to the touch. Dark hair sticking to his face from the beads of sweat that had formed. He made sure to toss your jacket onto the couch before he removed his hand from his boxers. A wave of embarrassment and guilt washed over him when he saw sticky cum coating his hand. I shouldn’t have done that. It felt so good though. He thought with a sigh as he stood to his feet. I should go wash up.

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Class was the next day, and that meant Sol could finally see you, he could return your jacket. He waited until after class, when you both were in the hallway. A part of him debated on not giving it back, he wanted it forever, to always have you with him, but he decided against it and it was worth it. The look on your face when he had handed you your jacket back was worth it. “Oh my gosh, Sol. I was so worried I had lost my favorite jacket forever. Thank you so much!” You exclaimed as you hugged him briefly, before you slipped it back on. “Yeah..of course. I tried looking for you yesterday to return it but I couldn’t find you anywhere.” He explained. A tinge of red evident on his pale features as he was reminded of what he did the night before with it. He violated your poor jacket, but of course he would never tell you that.

You shook your head, waving your hand dismissively, “Sorry about that! I was in such a rush to leave. My other job needed me to cover a shift.” You explained. You had another job besides the library?

But he didn’t mind; he was just glad he could keep your jacket safe from anyone else. Fumbling in the pocket of your pants you pulled out your cell phone, “We should exchange numbers! Just in case one of us needs to get into contact with each other.” You suggested, swiping your finger across to unlock the device. He watched as you typed away on the screen before handing it to him.

Sol’s heart was beating so quickly now, you were really asking for his number? He looked a bit uncomfortable, like he was rejecting your offer, because you began to pull away your phone looking at the floor embarrassedly. “S-sorry. I shouldn’t ha-“ you began but he cut you off, gently snatching the phone from your hand. And within seconds he typed in his number, he already noticed you made a contact name for him. Sol ☀️

But something else caught his attention as he felt the phone vibrate in his hand.

Crowe 🐦‍⬛ : You’re still coming over tonight, right?

Something inside of the dark haired man awakened when he saw that text. He froze in place, his blush that tinted his features now went away. Who the hell is Crowe? He thought bitterly. Your boyfriend or a coworker? He only snapped out of his thoughts when you retrieved your phone back, your thumbs danced across the screen then he felt his pocket vibrate.

“Did you get it?” You asked curiously, tilting your head so cutely to the side. “L-let me check.” Sol quickly said and pulled out his phone. His boring black phone background was illuminated with your text.

Unknown: hii! it’s ______ :D

Without a moment of hesitation he saved your contact. ______ 🌙

His contact was saved with a sun by his name so it only made sense that you were the moon. With that, you two said your goodbyes and Sol watched as you walked down the hall, he stood in his spot with a small smile on his lips.

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It was the weekend which meant Sol would do his weekly cleaning of his apartment. Loud music echoed throughout the apartment as he cleaned, humming softly to himself. Something caught his eye as he was vacuuming under the couch, a small piece of rectangular plastic glittered as it caught the light from the ceiling fan. Crouching, he picked it up and his eyes widened instantly when he realized what it was. Your ID had fallen out from the pocket of your jacket, he assumed. And all of your information was on it.

“______ ______..” Sol whispered your full name. He didn't know what it was before. Your address was there too, and it looked recent, judging from the picture and expiration date. The card shook ever so slightly in his fingers as he was practically salivating that he would now be able to find so many more things about you.

Halting his cleaning for the day, he shut off the music and instantly opened up his laptop to begin searching your name online. Hours had passed, day turned into night. Sol’s scarlet red irises were glazed over, his lips dry and mouth a bit parched. He hadn’t left his laptop screen in hours, too engrossed with finding out every single detail about you. Your social media wasn’t private, how foolish of you. And he scrolled through the dozens of pictures you had posted, finding out everyone you associated it with. The page refreshed and a new picture was posted. You are with a group of people at what looked like a bar, with the caption: Love my friends!! Tonight was so fun, let’s do it again!! :D

Sol remembered the text from this “Crowe” earlier and he began to examine the picture, trying to find out who this Crowe was. His eyes narrowed when he saw the man next to you in the picture. A long haired brunette with tan skin, he swore he had seen that face before. This Crowe was behind your frame, hands resting on either of your shoulders. To anyone else they would have assumed that you and the man were friends, nothing in the pose indicated anything romantic, but to Sol it was too much. He didn’t want to see another man behind you touching you like that. Standing up he slammed his laptop shut and decided he needed to go to bed before he got too consumed by his jealousy and anger.

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As days turned into weeks, then eventually into months, Sol and you grew closer. You were regularly texting and hanging out. He had found out that your lunches consisted of junk food, and that was even if you brought lunch to campus. So he decided to start prepping your lunches, and even dinners as soon as he found out you ate cup noodles nearly every night. God, you were cute albeit a bit useless, he didn’t mind cooking for you, it only made him feel wanted - and the look on your face every time you ate his meals just made him filled with so much joy.

You were so kind and introduced him to your friend group, Crowe was kind enough and he kept his hands off of you in Sol’s presence. But he knew that man looked familiar, and Crowe looked at him with suspicious eyes and a fake smile. Sol only remained cordial with your friends though, if they made you happy he’d pretend to be friendly with them. But the man never returned your ID, it was his now. You complained about having to buy a new one, but he made sure to slip some extra cash into your backpack one day when you weren’t looking. The text he received that night was so adorable. “Omg Sol I found some cash at the bottom of my backpack. I’m eating good tonight! >:3”

It was so worth it. But Sol had a dirty secret that he couldn’t tell a living soul. He was slipping sleeping medication into the dinners he made you, he made a copy of your apartment key, and he was letting himself into your home every night. It was all in an attempt to make sure you were safe!

“My neighborhood is so unsafe. I really need to find somewhere else to live. There’s been so many recent break ins and assaults, and I live at ground level.” He remembered you complaining.

“You can stay at my place, _______. It’s a decent neighborhood. Lots of old people, so it’s quiet.” He offered.

“Sol! No, I can't do that. You already do enough for me. I got new locks on everything and alarms.” You retorted with a pout. He knew you wouldn’t change your mind, you weren’t that type of girl. You were independent, but that was okay. Sol would still keep an eye on you. Knowing you kept a spare key hidden away, he found it and while you were at work he had a copy made, then placed the key back without you being none the wiser.

Tonight wasn’t any different, Sol waited until you were asleep and he slipped into your quiet, dark apartment. He could navigate your home in the dark. That's how familiar he was with the layout, but the dim street lights also did aid him. Your bedroom door was slightly ajar and he quickly made his way in.

The streetlights illuminated your room, he saw your sleeping form on the bed, one hand hanging off the side of the bed and your blankets messily thrown on top of your body. In fact, the blankets barely covered any of your body. You wore an oversized t-shirt and the cutest panties - the shirt was raised and exposed your bare torso. “Were you waiting for me dear?” He whispered as he knelt down at your bedside. Folding his hands on the edge of the bed, he rested his chin on top, his gaze was so loving - but there was something so dark about the way he looked at you. Raising a hand up, Sol’s slender fingers brushed aside the hair on your face. “So cute…” he breathed out.

You shifted, your eyes squeezing shut as a quiet groan left your lips. When you moved through, your shirt lifted just a bit more, revealing your breast partially. Sol felt his face grow warm and he tried to avert his gaze, but it was like you were practically begging for him, looking so cute and innocent. He choked back a moan as he felt his dick get hard, his fingers wrapped around the wrist of your limp hand and he placed his cheek into your warm palm. His eyes fluttered shut as he let out a content sigh, “You're asking me to do something, huh dear?” He mumbled. That had to be it or why else were you wearing such an outfit is that why you left your bedroom door opened? You were inviting him in, right?

Sol leaned down to press a kiss to your exposed neck, he nibbled softly at the skin. A quiet whimper escaping you as your brows furrowed. So cute. He thought, still nipping at the skin, leaving a faint red mark. His hand trailed down your neck until his fingers reached your breast, he gently massaged it for a brief moment. Another quiet whimper came from you. He let your hand that was cupping his cheek fall onto the bed for a moment, as his fingers fumbled with the belt of his pants and with a swift motion his dick was out. Already hard from anticipation, he positioned himself in your hands, he laced both your and his fingers together. He let out a moan feeling your fingers wrapped around his dick.

His whole body shuddered in pleasure at the feeling, and he buried his face between your breasts to quiet his moans as he began to rock his hips back and forth. His sensitive tip fucked your palm as he moaned out your name from between your breasts. Tears pooling at the corner of his closed eyes as pathetic needy whimpers left him.

“You’re mine. Mine..you’re mine ______. I love you so much.” He cried as he felt himself about to cum. Then, with another thrust he came hard into your and his laced hands. As he calmed his breathing down he slowly lifted his head up, you were still asleep, oblivious to the lewd act he just made you do. “You’re so beautiful, dear. You feel so perfect.” He whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

Standing up he pulled his pants back on, then walked to the bathroom to wash his sticky hands. Grabbing a rag he wet, he walked back to clean up the mess he left on your hands. “Crowe..the paper...” you mumbled in your sleep. Sol’s scarlet eyes widened in shock at the name, why were you talking about him when he was right here. His fists clenched and eyes narrowed, a dark cloud casting over his face. “You really ought to stop talking about him, dear. Crowe doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t understand you like I do.” He hissed through gritted teeth. You were just confused - that’s okay, Sol was patient. He leaned down to press a kiss against your lips once again before wishing you a good night. With that, he quietly slipped out of your apartment.

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The final day of class before winter break came the next day. You and Sol sat in art class together, sketching your final assignment. The classroom was quiet as everyone worked. You kept glancing at the dark haired man next you, a faint blush on your face as you remembered the brief dream you had of him last night. You dreamt that he was having sex with you, you heard his moans as he fucked you. Then, just before the dream actually got good, your mind decided that all of a sudden you were going to dream about you and Crowe finishing up your finals paper for English class that you had done earlier yesterday. God! Why did his stupid pretty face have to ruin the best dream you ever had!

Class couldn’t end any sooner and the Professor motioned for everyone to turn in their assignments. He reminded the students to check their emails during the winter break to see their grades. You quickly stood out of your seat, the chair nearly falling back as you fumbled with putting your things away. Sol noticed that something was off about you, you wouldn’t look at him at all. Surely you didn’t know what he did with you last night, right? He slung his backpack over his shoulder as he watched you as you zipped up your backpack. “Want to go to the arcade?” He asked you suddenly, “Hyugo and I are going since classes ended early today. Like right now.” He added.

Snapping your head up, you actually looked at him for the first time today. Your eyes meeting his, “O-oh…umm. I’d love to but I don’t have any…money.” You mumbled, voice trailing off at the end. “Campus library let go of all the part timers a few weeks ago, remember? And my other job cut my hours. So it’s tight right now.” You sighed sadly. “I wasn’t asking you to pay. I just asked if you wanted to come with us?” He said.

Sol noticed a strand of hair hanging in front of your face so reached a gentle hand up to brush it aside, tucking the strand behind your ear. “I’ll pay. You know I’ll always take care of you, ______.” He reminded you with a kind smile that made your heart flutter. It was something he always told you, you weren’t sure why he was so kind to you when you had nothing to offer him in return. You were a broke college student who couldn’t even cook your own meals. A faint blush dusted your cheeks as you shyly looked away, “O..okay. Then yes, I want to go.” You shyly said as you tugged at the sleeves of your favorite jacket.

“Alright, good. Here I’ll carry your bag. Hyugo should be waiting at the entrance.” Sol said, taking your bag from you with a swift motion. You tried to protest but he was already walking ahead so you were more focused on catching up to him.

The walk to the arcade didn’t take long, but you were shivering from the cold winter breeze. Sol noticed you shivering and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, bringing you close to him. You looked up at him before looking away shyly. Once inside the arcade, the three of you played games for some time. You pointed at a claw machine, wanting to win the cute cat plushie, you tapped at the glass before looking back up at Sol with big pleading eyes. “Aw, it's so cute. Do we have enough coins to win it?” You asked excitedly. Sol patted his pockets and sighed, shaking his head. “No, but I can go get some more if you’d like?” He asked, he just wanted to see you happy.

Hyugo nodded, “Yeah let’s play some more games! Oh, let’s get some food too. I’m starving!” He exclaimed, nudging Sol’s side. Sol looked at you, waiting for your answer. “That sounds good to me. While you two do that, I’m going to head to the bathroom. I’ll meet you back here.” You said. The pair nodded and with that you went your separate ways.

You found the restroom. It was located in the back of the arcade and once done, you hummed quietly as you made your way back to the claw machine with the plushie you wanted. But you unbeknownst drew unwanted attention to yourself; you hadn’t even stepped a few feet back out of the bathroom when you were immediately cornered by a much taller and bigger man than yourself. He backed you in between two large pinball machines, leaving you trapped. “Hey sexy. You got a boyfriend?” He slurred, it was obvious he was drunk. He had both of his arms on either side of your head so you could barely move. “Not interested.” You spat as you tried pushing him away, but to no avail. That seemed to only anger him more as he lowered his face to be at eye level with you. “Come on, don’t be like that. I’ll treat you nicely.” He said, though this time his voice was much darker. The stench of alcohol lingered with every breath he took. You turned your face to the side, but that seemed to only anger him and this time he grabbed your jaw roughly in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t turn away, sweetheart. Just come on let me sh—“ he began, but suddenly his hand was ripped away from your face and you closed your eyes, fully expecting to get hit. You heard shouting and skin hitting skin, you still kept your eyes shut, flinching with every sound. The noise of the arcade was too loud and you slid down the wall, covering your face with your hands as you buried your face against your knees.

“Don’t you fucking touch her! I’ll kill you!” You heard a familiar voice shout, it was then you uncovered your face and your eyes widened in shock as you saw Sol fighting with the man, both with bloody noses. Hyugo pulled Sol away while a random person held back the other man. The two men were still shouting curses at one another, though you were so overwhelmed you could barely understand what they were saying. You noticed Hyugo was having trouble holding back Sol, so you quickly scrambled to your feet and stepped in front of the dark haired man, pressing your hands against his chest. “Sol! *Enough!*” you pleaded, tears forming in your eyes. The drunk man had lost his balance at some point and fell to the floor, but he was still threatening you and Sol. The man called you every name in the book, and he was mocking you - but you didn’t care. You just wanted to get out of here. There was a terrifying look in Sol’s scarlet eyes and it turned your blood cold. “Sol *please,* let’s just go.” You pleaded with him once again.

As soon as Sol heard your voice waver, he stopped and his eyes widened in a mixture of horror and guilt as he realized that you were crying. He cupped your face in his hands, shaking his head, “No, no, no. Please don’t cry. I’m done. We can go.” He said in a panic, “He didn’t hurt you, right? He didn’t touch you?” He asked. You shook your head, “No. I’m okay.” You reassured him, just wanting to leave. Your lip quivered as you looked up at him and you simply nodded, taking his hand in yours as you dragged him out of the arcade. Though when Sol was certain you weren’t looking, he turned back to the man and spat at him before he followed you out.

Once outside you wiped your tears away with your jacket sleeve, smearing your makeup a bit in the process, but you didn’t care. You didn’t dare let go of Sol’s hand, afraid that if you did he would turn back and actually kill the man. Hyugo sighed, rubbing his temples, “We should leave before the cops get called.” He mumbled. Sol clicked his tongue in annoyance, “We didn’t do anything wrong. That low life touched ______. I just defended her.” He spat back. You tugged Sol’s hand, “I want to go home.” You sniffled. “I’ll walk her home. You go ahead, Hyugo.” He said. The blue haired man raised a brow, by the way he looked at his friend you sensed that maybe he didn’t want to leave him alone. “You’ll call right? As soon as you dropped ______ off at home?” He asked, his brows furrowing.

Sol had already wrapped his arm around your waist, your and his backpack slung over his shoulders. “Yeah, I will. See you later.” He said pulling you along to walk off in the other direction. Hyugo just nodded watching as you two walked off.

Sol didn’t let go of your waist for the whole walk home, he held you protectively, glaring at anyone who looked in your general direction. Once you arrived back at your apartment you fished around in your jacket pocket for your keys, eventually finding them and unlocking the door. “Do..do you want to come in?” You asked Sol shyly. You were really inviting him inside! He felt his heart skip a beat and he swallowed nervously, “Sure.” He smiled and stepped inside after you, setting down the bags onto a stool by the door.

You untied your sneakers and left them at the door before you looked up at the tall man. “Do you want tea? Coffee?” You asked him.

“What do you want? I can start the water.” He asked you back.

“Tea sounds good. Something relaxing.” You replied, motioning him to follow you into the kitchen. You poured water into the electric kettle on the countertop as you reached into the cabinets to grab two cups. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to change real quick.” You smiled before walking off towards your bedroom to change. Sol already knew where everything was located, so he grabbed two tea bags, setting them into the ceramic mugs as he waited for the water to boil. Then a thought ran through his mind as his hand absentmindedly rested on his front pocket. You didn’t get to eat the dinner he made you for tonight which meant you wouldn’t sleep well.

So before the water was done boiling he pulled out a small bag in his pocket, and broke apart the sleeping pill, letting it dissolve in the hot water. He just wanted to make sure that you’d be able to sleep tonight was all.

When you walked back out of your room, your tea was already made and Sol was sipping on his as he leaned against the wall. He looked at your outfit, did you wear something like that on purpose to tease him? You wore tight shorts, a tank top, your favorite jacket unzipped, and the cutest bunny shaped slippers. “Thank you so much, Sol.” You smiled at him as you held the mug in your hands and slowly sipped on it. He nodded, “Of course. Anything for you.” He said returning your smile. You chatted with him for a while it was obvious that you were just stalling, you didn’t want him to leave. You were still shaken up from earlier, from both how Sol reacted and to what may have happened if he wasn’t there to save you from that man.

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You sat on the couch, legs crossed as some random show played quietly in the background. Sol sat across from you, you both had long finished your tea. He could tell you were getting a bit more sluggish, “I’m sleepy, Sol.” You yawned. “You should go..it’s getting late. Hyugo is probably worried about you.” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes with your sleeve. Sol frowned, “It’s okay. I don’t mind. I want to make sure that you’re okay.” He replied back, he didn’t want to leave you alone.

“I’m okay. I just don’t want to be alone..” you sniffled. “I think someone has been breaking into my house.” You then said, flicking your gaze up to look at him with a worried expression. Sol froze, his breath hitched in his throat. “W..what? Why do you think that?” He asked, trying to remain calm. Folding your hands together in your lap, your eyes darted around before landing back on him, “Sometimes things are out of place.” Is all you said, “So please don’t leave me alone.” You then pleaded, suddenly leaning over towards him on all fours.

Sol’s eyes flickered to your face and to the gap between your shirt, he could see you weren’t wearing a bra and he shifted awkwardly in his spot on the couch as he tried to remaining eye contact with you. Placing a hand over his crotch, he let out a cough, a dark red blush making its way to his pale features. “Okay. I won’t. I’ll stay as long as you want me to.” He responded, a look of desperation in his eyes. You smiled, feeling butterflies in your stomach when he said those words. Then your mind wandered back to the dream you had last night, you sat back legs now folded underneath you.

“Can you come lay down with me in bed?” You asked him, looking away shyly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stay up much longer. Plus it’s more comfortable than staying out here.” You added. Sol found it hard to even speak now, he nodded and bit his lip. You stood up and began to walk towards your bedroom, turning off the lights along the way. Before you rounded the corner you noticed that he was still sitting on the couch, “Are you coming? You don’t have—“ you began only to be cut off by him springing up, “I am.” He mumbled shyly as he followed you into your familiar bedroom.

Your bedsheets were messily strewn about on your bed, like always. Clothes tossed haphazardly throughout the room, he watched as you shrugged off your jacket, tossing it on the vanity chair and you kicked off your slippers. You crawled into bed, pulling the sheets over your cold body. “What do you usually wear to sleep, Sol?” You asked him curiously, waiting for him to come lay down as yet another yawn left you.

“My..boxers.” Sol replied shyly, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided your cute gaze. “You can sleep like that here. I don’t mind.” You mumbled motioning with your hand for him to come lay down. “A-are you sure?” He stammered, already unbuckling his belt, his hands shaking a bit in anticipation. “Mhm.” You hummed reassuringly, squeezing your legs together tightly. Sol wasted no time in taking off his clothes, it was a shame the room was so dimly lit so you couldn’t see him. He sat at the edge of the bed, still unsure of what he needed to do.

You tugged at his wrist, “Lay down with me. Under the blankets.” You encouraged him in a sleepy voice. He let you pull him down onto the bed, his heart was racing so fast he found it hard to breathe. As you both now laid under the covers he could feel your body heat, you were so close to him. Your bed wasn’t big by any means, so your bodies were practically touching. “I really like you, Sol.” You suddenly said, you weren’t sure why you blurted that out, maybe it was your drowsy drugged state that made you say something you didn’t mean to.

Sol’s eyes widened in shock as he turned his head to face you. He could make out your soft features from the dim city streetlights that peaked through the curtains. Your hand now was on his chest, you could feel how fast his heart was beating. “You take care of me. You’re so kind. I’ve never had anybody care for me like you do.” You mumbled, leaning over until your noses touched.

Sol raised a shaking hand to cup your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. “I’ll always take care of you, ______. I’ll be here. No matter what.” He whispered back. His words were so kind and gentle, yet there was darkness in which he spoke. You blushed and looked away, your eyes closing shut as you finally closed the distance between your lips. You were a bit unsure on how to kiss him, not wanting to mess with his lip rings too much, but as soon as your lips met something clicked inside the raven haired man.

He returned your kiss desperately, not wanting to stop. Were you really doing this? Was this seriously happening?! He thought. It was a shame you were half asleep, but it still didn’t stop you from your next move. You rolled onto of him, your legs straddling his waist as you cupped his face in your hands, kissing him with inexperience. It wasn’t like Sol minded though, he was also just as inexperienced. His hands were on your waist, fingernails digging into your soft skin as he let out a needy whimper when he felt you grinding against his dick.

“Do you like me, Sol?” You asked him, breaking away from the kiss for a few moments as you continued to grind against him. When he took too long to answer you paused and lifted yourself up about to get up. Feeling utterly rejected by him, humiliated. But his hands slammed you back down on top of him. A crazed look on his face, “Y-yes I do. I like you. You’re my soulmate, ______.” He desperately spoke, his eyes flickering trying to read your expression. All you heard was “yes”, as you began to fade in and out of consciousness, despite desperately trying to stay awake.

“G..good.” You mumbled against his lips, beginning to grind against him again as you cupped his face. Sol returned your kisses as he let out whiny moans of your name, begging you for more. He wanted to feel your pussy, god knows how long he had waited to fuck you. His hands let go of your hips and now tugged at the waistband of his boxers. He managed to slip them off and when he felt how wet your panties were a pathetic whimper left his lips. He pushed your panties aside and now he could really feel how wet your pussy was. His dick pushed between your folds, you shivered as you felt his tip slide over your clit. “S-sol.” You whimpered his name.

Oh god, just you saying his name so lewdly was almost enough to push him over the edge. “A-ah.” He cried out as he felt your pace quicken. He loved the way you were using him, like he was nothing more than a toy for you to hump to reach your orgasm. The head of his dick was so sensitive and he felt your clit rubbing against it. “I..I’m gonna cum.” He warned you. Sol’s fingers digging into the plush skin of your thighs as he bucked his hips upward. “I-I wanna fuck you…please. Feel your pussy…please.” He begged, biting your lip. But you ignored him continuing to grind against his hard dick as your moans became a bit louder, your thighs shaking. You could feel yourself about to cum, but Sol suddenly let out a yell. “A-ah ahh ______.” He cried as his hot cum shot out. He threw his head back, eyes squeezing shut as tears pooled in the corner of them, his back arched, and fingernails scratching your thighs enough to leave a mark and draw some blood. His body shook under yours.

You felt the warm sensation rising from your core, your clit becoming more sensitive by the seconds. Sol’s thick cum now providing more lubrication. His whimpering of your name and pleading was enough to push you over the edge and moments later you joined him in his orgasm. You cried out his name as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, holding onto him tightly as you rode out your orgasm. Honestly you weren’t sure if you were or not, your mind was so hazy. Then you suddenly came to a stop, your body shaking a bit as your eyes closed shut.

Sol caught his breath, his hands rubbed up and down your back and he realized you had fallen asleep. The medicine had taken its full effect. He wrapped his arms tightly around you pressing a kiss on top of your head a content smile on his lips. “You’re mine. Mine…you’ll never have to be alone again.” He mumbled against your hair. His scarlet eyes gazing at the ceiling as you were fast asleep against his chest. At some point he fell asleep still holding onto you, with his dick between your thighs.

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You had awoken the next morning a bit groggy, you realized you were in bed with someone and you stared down in horror as you realized that you had slept with Sol. You only remembered bits and pieces of the nights before, and your sticky panties confirmed that you two had been intimate in some way. You wiggled out of his strong arms as quietly as you could and rushed to the bathroom, grabbing your phone careful to not wake him up.

After you cleaned yourself up and changed, you sat on the ledge of the bathtub typing away rapidly on your phone.

Crowe I NEED YOU NOW!!!!

What’s up? You okay?

NOOO. I think I just messed up. I think I ruined a friendship.

Woah calm down, ______. Is this about him?

YES. Can we meet up at the cafe? Please. Right now.

Yes. I’ll be there in a few.

Thanks.

With that you clicked your phone shut and quickly got dressed into your clothes from yesterday, not wanting to disturb Sol’s sleep. You peeked into your room and still saw him resting. You left the house getting your wallet and keys and tossing them into your jacket.

Sol woke up not long after you had left the house and when he didn’t feel your presence he immediately shot up in bed, panic beginning to set in. Where were you?! He grabbed his phone getting ready to dial your number when he saw a text appear on the screen.

I’ll be back soon. :3

He calmed down a bit, laying the phone in his lap as he ran a hand through his messy hair. Why didn’t you tell him you had somewhere to go? Why would you leave alone in the morning after everything that had happened last night? It was then he felt a bit angry, wondering why you were sneaking around. Snatching his phone back up he called you but you kept ignoring his calls, finally though you answered.

“Hello.” Your voice came through on the other end, there was also another voice on the other end too. It was one he recognized. It was Crowe. He felt himself grow even more angry as jealousy filled him. Why the hell are you with him?!

“Who are you with?” Sol asked, his voice as sickly sweet.

“Shhhh be quiet. Yeah, hi Sol, I’m with a friend. Don’t worry, I’ll be back home soon.” He heard you shushing Crowe. His grip tightened on the phone, if he squeezed any harder he may have shattered the screen. “When will you be back? Where are you?” He asked, this time his tone wasn’t as sweet.

“Sol…please don’t worry about it. I promise I’ll be back home soon. I gotta go.” You reassured him before hanging up.

Sol was furious, he slammed the phone face down onto the night stand, the glass screen shattering. Why is he interfering? Why does she keep hanging out with him? Doesn’t he know ______’s mine?! So many jealous thoughts flowed through his head as he quickly got dressed. He freshened himself up before he left your apartment, storming on the busy streets. What you hadn’t known was that Sol had installed a tracker on your phone many nights ago. He was really trying to give you the chance to tell him where you were without having to resort to using the tracker, but you wouldn’t tell him. He had no other choice but to use it, and make sure you were okay. He had to make sure that filthy Crowe wasn’t touching you. And he needed to show the brunet who you belonged to.

It was a rainy day and he didn’t care if he got wet, he was determined to find out where you were. The tracker led him to a busy coffee shop where he saw you and Crowe sitting near the window. His scarlet eyes met bright blue ones, belonging to the last person he wanted to see. Sol’s eyes narrowed, and all the brunet did was return a sly smirk before mouthing something to you. You whipped your head around just as Sol stormed into the coffee shop, immediately making his way to the table you two sat at. He tried to maintain his composure, his chest rising with every deep breath he took as he glared at the man sitting across from you.

“Sol? H-How did you know I was here?” You asked him in shock. He ignored your question continuing to glare daggers at Crowe, who sipped on his coffee nonchalantly. “Hey there. Care to join us?” He asked with a polite smile, motioning with his hand to the available seat.

“No. ______, we’re going home. Now.” Sol demanded, now turning to look at you. He grabbed your wrist and you tried to jerk away, “Ow, Sol!” You cried out, which caused him to immediately drop your hand. “Are you okay?” He asked, his angry expression now etched into worry. You frowned, rubbing your wrist, “Y..yeah. I told you I’d be gone later. Please stop this.” You pleaded, looking at him with big eyes.

“You should be gentle with her, Sol.” Crowe scolded half heartedly. “______, you should go. Don’t keep him waiting. We can talk soon, I have to get to work anyways.” He smiled warmly at you.

“But I—“ you stammered, but the brunet cut you off with a wave. “Seriously, it’s fine. Just remember what we talked about, okay?” He winked, it was purposeful, he was trying to get under Sol’s skin and it was working.

Sol grabbed your wrist a bit more gently this time as you stood up, “We’re leaving. Bye.” He spat, glaring at the man as he dragged you out of the coffee shop. All the while Crowe watched with furrowed brows and a forced smile. He didn’t like Sol, he didn’t like him at all. But whatever made you happy, he’d tolerate.

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Sol was dragging you down the street as you squirmed under his tight grasp on your wrist. The whole time you demanded to know what had gotten into him! This wasn’t the Sol you knew. Ever since the arcade, you noticed a sudden shift in his personality, it was instantaneous. As you two arrived back at your apartment, he shoved you inside with a forceful hand, slamming and locking the door shut. “What the hell is wrong with you, Sol?!” You screamed at him as you tossed your phone, keys, and wallet onto the kitchen counter.

Sol’s eyes were narrowed still as he walked towards you, instinctively you stumbled backwards until you found yourself with your back pinned against the wall with nowhere to go. His tall frame towering above you. “What’s wrong with me? You’re the one sneaking around with that bastard.” He hissed as he slammed his palms on either side of your head, pinning you between his arms. “I’ve tolerated him long enough. Doesn’t he know you belong to me?! I’m the one that’s caring for you and protecting you. While he does nothing.” He snapped angrily.

You cowered beneath him, beginning to grow a bit scared, “Y-you’re scaring me, Sol.” You whimpered. He clicked his tongue in annoyance; he didn’t like you pretending to be innocent in all of this. Perhaps you and that bastard needed reminding of who you belonged to. Sol crashed his lips against yours roughly, you felt his tongue trace the bottom of your lip. But when you were tightening your lips together to deny him, he bit your lip causing your lips to part open in surprise and with that his pierced tongue forced its way into your mouth. One hand on your jaw forcing your head to tilt up. You tasted like coffee and sugar, he didn’t mind at all though. It suited you.

You cried against him. He was being so forceful it was terrifying. He pulled away panting heavily, a string of saliva connecting your and his lips. His hand was still firmly holding your chin. “I don’t think you realize, dear. That you’re mine. No one else can have you. Ever. I won’t allow it.” He muttered. He noticed that your eyes were watery and a sympathetic smile made its way to his pierced lips. “Aww..please don’t cry, baby. I don’t want to make you cry. I promise I’ll make you feel good. You just need to be reminded that you’re mine.” He said in a gentle voice as his thumb wiped away your tears.

“I’m scared.” You whimpered.

Sol leaned down to press a much more gentle kiss to your lips, “You won’t be for long. You’ll be feeling so good in a minute.” He purred and with that he picked you up holding you so gently in his arms bridal style as he continued to kiss your lips. Once inside the bedroom he tossed you onto the bed and hovered over you beginning to tug at the waistband of your pants. “N-no Sol.” You whined but your arousal said otherwise. The truth was you were so turned on by him. You had wanted him in this way for so long.

Sol ignored your pleas and within a couple minutes he had you stripped of your clothes. You laid on your back on the bed as you looked at his nearly naked body, he stood only in his boxers. And now with the sun peeking through the blinds basking the room in a bright light you saw just how big Sol was. His body was well toned, just perfect. You saw the erection in his pants and you swallowed nervously at just how big he was. You weren’t sure if he was even fully hard yet.

You didn’t get to stare at him for too long though as he got to his knees, kneeling in front of your legs. “I’m going to make you feel so good dear. You won’t ever think of anyone else but me.” He said it almost came out as a warning. His slender hands pushed your legs apart and the look of pure lust was on his face. You tried to cover yourself up with your hands but he wouldn’t let you. “So pretty.” He whispered. God, he dreamt for so long to be buried between your thighs eating you out.

You jumped when you felt Sol’s tongue licking your pussy, the muscle dragging slowly between the slit. You felt the cold metal piercing drag along sending a shiver up your spine. He let out a moan as he tasted you. God, you tasted better than he could have ever imagined. He pushed your legs further apart and spread open your pussy, you squirmed a bit at being so exposed. Your hands balled up the fabric of the bed sheet beneath you as you felt the ball of his piercing roll over your clit, causing you to let out a loud moan. You knew you messed up when you gave him that reaction, because he immediately began to suck at your sensitive clit, rolling his piercing over it every single time causing you to moan louder. His tongue moving from teasing your clit to probing your wet hole. He wanted to taste every bit of you, this was pure bliss for the raven haired man.

“So good.” Sol praised. It was hard to focus as he sucked the sensitive bud, your head spinning as your legs quivered. He wouldn’t let you close your legs, no matter how much you tried. His tongue worked so expertly, he knew exactly how to get you whimpering under him. “Sol!” You yelped when you felt his tongue enter you, causing your hips to buck and your back to arch. It was such a strange feeling but god it felt so good. He was trying to fuck you with his tongue. Your hands tangled in his dark loose hair as you tilted his head back up to focus on your clit. “I-I’m gonna..” you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as the warm sensation began to build more and more. Your breathing became more frantic and with another roll of his pierced tongue against your clit, your legs closed, Sol’s face still between your thighs as you held him there cumming all over his face. You were practically screaming his name as he continued to suck on your overstimulated clit. You begged him to stop, so he did and instead decided to clean you up.

Sol’s tongue lapped up every last bit of your juices, you tasted so amazing. He was drunk off of your scent—taste. Everything about you drove him crazy. He could spend the rest of his life buried between your thighs, licking your pussy and letting you cum all over his face. He was yours to use. “N-no more. Please.” You begged, your body falling limp.

Sol gave you one last taste, his tongue swiping up the full length of your pussy before he sat up. He licked his wet lips, “See..I’m the only one who can make you feel this good, dear.” He said matter of factly. He stood up pulling down his boxers revealing his hard dick. When you looked at him you nearly choked on your own spit. How the hell were you supposed to take him? He hadn’t stretched you out with his fingers to prepare you. “I-I can’t take you without—“ you began. But Sol leaned forward kissing you, shutting you up. “It’s okay. I’ll be slow.” He mumbled against your lips.

His tall frame towered above you, it was so intimidating, the way he looked at you with half lidded eyes and a small smile on his face. His arms were on either side of you pinning you between him. You felt the tip of his dick poke at your entrance. Sol continued to gently kiss you as he pushed himself inside you, he let out quiet whimpers as slowly filled you up. His body shuddered at the sensation, your tight pussy was everything he had ever dreamed off. “Fuck…oh god you feel so good, ______.” He moaned as he sat up now. Placing his hands on your inner thighs, he spread your legs apart as far as he could without hurting you. He wanted to see how well you took him.

Inch by inch Sol sank into you, it was agonizing how slow he went but by the look on his face he was savoring every moment. He was panting quietly trying to control himself, he did want to hear his soulmate after all. You squirmed under his strong grasp as he filled you up beyond belief. You weren’t ready to take him, he was so big it hurt. “S-Sol.” You cried, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes as you felt the tip hit deep inside, causing you to flinch in pain.

“It’s okay. You’re doing so well, dear.” He praised you. And without warning Sol snapped his hips back and slammed back into you, causing you to yelp. He couldn’t resist himself as he began to roughly fuck you. His fingernails digging into the soft skin of your thighs and quiet moans left him. He stayed quiet because he wanted to hear your sweet sounds.

He watched the face you made as every single time he hit that sweet spot of your pussy. The way your lips parted as you moaned his name and the how your back arched as he fucked you. The way your breasts bounced up and down with each thrust. He noticed the creamy white ring forming on the base of his cock. You felt so perfect, it was as if..”We were made for each other, ______.” He whispered. Sol let go your thighs, confident that you’d keep your legs spread out. He now cupped your breasts, fingertips lightly teasing your perked nipples as he watched you shudder under his touch.

Sol frowned, “Something’s missing.” He said in between pants as he continued to relentlessly fuck you. His pace was not slowing down at all, you were exhausted already, your pussy ached from how hard he was slamming into you. You weren’t sure you’d even be able to walk in the morning. “W-what?” You asked confused by what he meant but he didn’t answer you, instead leaned down to bite your neck. You cried out in surprise. He actually bit you. He nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin on your neck, not caring if he hurt you. After all, everyone needed to know you were his.

Your hands tangled in his hair as you squeezed your eyes shut, tears now running down your face. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he slipped one hand between your thighs. You body twitched when you felt the pad of thumb rub your clit, all the while he never stopped fucking and marking you. He let out a low laugh when he felt your body twitch underneath him.

Sol could tell you were close to coming, by how your breathing became more erratic, how you held him closer. “Are you going to cum for me, dear?” He asked. You didn’t say anything, which annoyed the dark haired man. He sat up, ripping himself from your grasp and stopped rubbing circles against your sensitive clit. “You need to answer me.” He growled and just to emphasize the point, he pulled nearly all the way out before he snapped his hips forward. You cried loudly, biting your lip and nodding eagerly, “Y-yes. I wanna cum for you, Sol.” You whimpered, looking up at him with the cutest expression.

Sol smiled lovingly at you, satisfied with your answer, “You’re so cute when you beg, dear.” He spoke gently and with that he returned to stimulating your clit. Your mind was hazy as you felt your orgasm building up, you were only focused on one thing and that was coming. Your hands reached up to dig their fingernails in the skin of his bicep. “You’re so close. I can tell. Just cum for me. Please. I want to feel it so bad.” Sol begged in a whiny, desperate tone as he quickened his pace. And just like that you practically screamed his name, your body shaking as you came around his cock.

You orgasming and screaming his name was the most beautiful thing Sol had ever witnessed. He had dreamt of this moment for so long, it was better than he could ever imagine. He felt your pussy tighten around him and soon after he was coming too. Sol threw his head back as his dick twitched, coating your insides with thick cum. He was buried deep inside you, holding your thighs firmly so he could adequately fill you up. “You’re so beautiful. So pretty, full of my cum.” He mumbled, gazing down at you now.

Sol gently pushed your legs apart as he pulled out of you and watched in awe as his cum leaked out of your tight pussy. It was a heavenly sight. He sighed in satisfaction, flopping down onto the bed as he wrapped his arms around your tired body, pulling you onto his chest. You buried your face into the crook of his neck as you clung into him tightly. “No one will ever make you feel this good, dear. You were made for me. We’re soulmates.” Sol said barely above a whisper as he gazed at the white ceiling. “You’re mine. I won’t ever let anyone come between us. Ever. I love you so much, ______.” He said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His embrace tightening around you when he said that.

There was something threatening about the way Sol spoke. You were a bit scared, but you had no reason to be, right? He just loved you and you loved him. “I love you, Sol.” You sniffled. Sol just smiled at your words. He finally had you all to himself.