#HE JUST WANTED SOL TO LIVE
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still talking abt this but like it was Chekhov’s gun right, we always knew it was gonna happen but the fact that it wasn’t because of a roll but because he made the choice, that’s what gets me so hard
#HE JUST WANTED TO BE USEFUL#HE JUST WANTED SOL TO LIVE#SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP#ILL NEVER GET OVER IT#AND I HAVE TO WAIT A M O N T H#IN RUINS#naddpod#not another dnd podcast#calder kilde
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if yord had lived he'd be leading the hunt for qimir and osha and we would've gotten the most delicious tension between him and qimir. qimir would start out frustrated that yord got away, intent on finishing what he started. and yord, once hunted, now hunter, once an exemplary jedi, and now solely focused on revenge disguised as righteous justice (which it is also a bit of that). and qimir starts to enjoy the game, the chase. and in this timeline, sol still dies, osha still goes with qimir, but yord was unconscious, recovering in a bacta tank, so all he knows when he wakes up is that qimir is out there and took osha, his friend, away. so then you also have the tension of that confrontation, the realization that osha has willingly turned, and that maybe yord can't blame her for that, because what has he been doing these past many months, years, maybe, but give in to the selfish desire to finish what he started too?
#in this au vernestra doesn't blame sol for all the deaths. like maybe she doesn't say it was her apprentice#but she says they're dealing w someone powerful#like she can't lie about that bc yord can testify#and in this maybe jecki lives. on one hand - probably not bc yord's guilt about her death would be SO GOOD#but on the other hand just maybe stick her in a coma for a while idk lol. until she joins him on the hunt#plus if she lives osha's betrayal will feel more personal...... hmm....#i literally do not have time to write another fic. i haven't even finished the ones i'm currently working on!!!#but now this is sticking in my brain.....#idk that post about yord's little gay earring just made me think that he should have gay tension with qimir. just a thought#like if we REALLY wanted to discuss the themes of light and dark and the in-between#and the whole 'nobody wakes up and thinks they're the bad guy' theme#maybe we should've left the very stoic uptight capital g Good Guy jedi alive to challenge that#yord fandar#qimir#osha aniseya#the acolyte#star wars#sticking this in the tag:#my writing#bc i very well might come back to this
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Sol in Episode 7: “I must face the High Council” vs. Mae in Episode 8: “I want him to face the High Council.” I… I just… God.
SHE WAS HIS LAST HOPE OF SALVATION. HER WORDS ECHO HIS WORDS. HER WISH HEARKENS BACK TO THE WISH THAT WAS ONCE HIS. AND HE’S WRAPPED HIMSELF SO TIGHTLY IN THE COMFORTING ILLUSION OF RIGHTEOUSNESS THAT HE CAN’T REMEMBER, BECAUSE HE LOOKS AT HER AND ALL HE SEES IS THE LOST LAMB/THE REFLECTION OF ALL HIS WORST TRAITS/ THE COMPETITOR IN THE ZERO-SUM GAME HE’S MADE OF WINNING AND KEEPING HIS DAUGHTER’S LOVE.
#The Acolyte Star Wars#Sol Star Wars#Mae Aniseya#their dynamic and interplay will never not drive me insane#the way I gasped back in July when this went sailing clean over Sol's head#one of the two living victims of his actions was saying to his face#that she wanted him to do what he himself had wanted to do sixteen years ago#and it STILL wasn't enough to get through to him#I was like#oh. oh god. you really are about to die aren't you?#my dude that was your VERY LAST CHANCE to save yourself and you just blew it
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actual footage of byan being clingy af and needing @lee-sol's constant attention, thanks for ur time
#terrible quality gifs bc i can't be assed to work too hard on them#i just needed to share the vision with everyone bc it's v important to me#me taking advantage of our ship's fcs both being from the same group? i would NEVER.............#there's this one gifset that's just jk's reactions to not getting enough attention from everyone that lives rent free in my head#bc it gives me such byan energy#and for whatever reason i just. needed to do this today.#that expression in the second gif when he doesn't get the reaction he wants sends me dude. soooo byan-coded.#━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ visage ⋮ ever since the seventh grade i learned to firebreathe.#━━ ˟ ⊰ ♡ rel: sol ⋮ find me where i am most ruined; love me there.#━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ isms ⋮ a curse from you is all that i would need right now.#━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ mine.
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I do think that there’s a part of shri’iia that will always love lolth. she can’t help it ; she’s devoted so much of herself to that goddess before, and despite the hurt and resentment and the trauma, she was still her home, you know? and I think it will take a long time - like way past her oath breaking era to fully detangle herself from lolth just because of how much and how long she had dedicate herself to her (nearly 2 centuries worth). and before this whole oath breaking thing, and before her getting this new freedom, shri’iia didn’t even know there were other gods to worship than lolth. that a life outside of lolth was possible, and her entire existence didn’t depend on lolth. like the option to think differently wasn’t available to her, hence why she had such a difficult time fully grasping at the concept of freedom, and why she took so long actually accepting it for herself. and why an option to run back and return to lolth despite being free is plausible for her too. anyway, I think even post bg3 or whatever her dnd canon is, I think there’s some part of her that will still love lolth. she isn’t like minthara where she can fully scorn the spider queen; minthara had options and freedom that shri’iia wasn’t born with. she was afforded the luxury of being comfortable in her status as a drow woman because she was already born into that power that they’re expected to have, meanwhile shri’iia had to reach and truly fight to have a taste of the privilege that minthara was already born with - and it’s the very power that lead to her being used by her matriarch. regardless, I think that’s such an interesting dynamic to have for her, just all around complicated religious feelings. and why I think she won’t turn into an eilistraeen in the future even though her new oath aligns with eilistraee’s beliefs. I think some part of her would feel like she’s still betraying lolth - despite not following her anymore - at the prospect of worshipping somebody else, and I do think she mourns that devotion she once had. that - and the fact that she was ‘complete’ when she followed lolth, and her oath was divine and pure, but now it’s all broken and severed and she’s just making do with what she’s left with.
#I have like eilistraee drow ocs that I want to draw shri’iia with#one is felynzynn and the other is sol. I also like the idea of maybe an eilistraee church has been keeping tabs on shri’iia bc a lolth drow#choosing to live in the surface is kind of. uncommon. then more so one that has rejected lolth#felyn is a eilistraee cleric meanwhile sol was a mage slave who left menzo and now he’s under eilistraee’s church w felyn#I should draw them sometime too… sol is his chosen name too btw I think once he escaped he refuses the slave name he was given and made one#for himself. which is sun bc . the sun duh lol I forgot what felyn’s full name meant#but anyway I wanna draw my drow charas together heheheh every time I wanna make a new chara#I just end up making more drows 😮💨#also shri’iia’s is actually supposed to be spelt shri’riia but it sounds so awkward so I just made it shorter#but I like the idea she gets called ria sometimes… or ri…. badgirlriri she’ll start a new makeup line real#oc: shri’iia.
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i know tartosa's a gamepack world so it does come with quite a few lots considering that (9 when literally del sol valley comes with 11 and it's an ep world), but i need MORE!!!!!! i just have to keep replacing the lots every time i want to use a new one and it sucks :[
#idk if i want move fen to del sol valley tbh even though he's supposed to be a celebrity#because it comes with such a few lots#but i always kinda headcanoned that dsv and oasis springs and strangerville are close to it (and now chestnut ridge too)#so it might not be too bad#so far i've played in like all the worlds and sent them to geek con and mt komorebi festivals and all that#but i wanna change it for gen 2 and try to keep it in the world they live in for some realism#i just get bored so easily lol#but anyway!!!!#even the new world came with only 13 lots :[#💬
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going to buy a pregnancy test on my own despite him saying he was gonna come w me lol😹
#[ — stfu sol ! ]#‘i don’t want you to do it on ur own’ & after many timea telling him to let me know he just doesn’t#i’m giving up waiting on him & i think he’s tryna push me away so that i don’t wait on him#but yk it’s wtv i’ll live i think
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(ripping my hair out by the handful) Sol Is Not Trapped In The Time Loop Sol Is There Because They Choose To Be
#life on earth i am begging you please get life on earth#teenexo stuff#this is my biggest adn pettiest pet peeve but every time a fic is tagged fix it abt either#a) sol leaving the time loop or#b) dys not [redacted]#i start ripping out my hair. please. please. please#the irony is besk lives au actually does hit point b eventually however. however#i dont think its a fix it for him to do it or not do it i think its just a choice he can choose to make#i really do honestly and genuinely believe its fine and morally neutral and not a bad thing#i dont think relationships need to last forever to be deep and meaningful and i think dys staying for sol for so long is already like#a sign of his love and how much he cares for them. like. i think its fine. i genuinely do think its fine that he goes#idk theres a quote from this book i really like thats smth like uhhh#your lover doesnt belong to you they are choosing to lend themself to you every day#and i think abt that w/rt dys/sol a lot its just good u kno#dys stays for sol because he loves them. he leaves because he wants to do that too#and i think the act of him staying bc he loves them is really nice! having the time together they have is nice!#idk i also dont think sol would be able to be like....... With dys long term if they didnt understand/acknowledge this at least a little?#basically. i think there are circumstances where dys wouldn't do it but i dont think those are fix-its lol#ANYWAYS clambers back off my soap box#this wasnt even what i came here to complain about#ok back to packing byeeeeeee#i was a teenage exocolonist spoilers ?#probably somewhere in there im guessing
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Ocs can be so special and not reflective of yourself in any way
#Listen to my problems#just remembered that yancy has night terrors well into adulthood and he lives alone in a big house because his parents didnt want to move to#central city with him. and he doesnt sleep until he has to he stays awake in his kitchen drinking beer and crying sometimes just because#and when veronica moved in she would sleep on the sofa and take care of him at night ... (veronica has nightmares sometimes too...)#she had a major freakout about her missing eye and shes still steeped in paranoia that theyre gonna find her (unspecified they)#she doesnt like touching people much but she hugs him and only him and lets him give her silly nicknames .. x#and sol .. then sol came home with yancy ... and sol came into yancys room (yancy likes him a lot ...) and they would hold each other at#night simply because theyre both warm bodies#yancy doesnt know that hes just a machine .. sol was so much more to him. before he was gears and wires he was yancys friend ...#yancy is Callous about the wires. he forgets sometimes he loves machines but more than that he loves sol ... you see .... he is a cool#machine but theyre best friends they like each other ..#hes yancys bodyguard he takes care of him throughout the day and throughout the night#person by person yancys big house starts to fill up ..#just realised something funny. sol and grace are from the same hitman agency. sol choked yancy out and tried to break his neck before he#hired him and grace was invited to come over by sol and as soon as she stepped into the house she was chased around with a knife by veronica#like both of them tried to kill their special one thats really funny#i say special one because sol is yancys special one but grace and vero are literally just girlfriends who have sex
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I was initially set to go, "Wait, that's it? That's what Torbin was so torn up about that he retreated from the galaxy and felt so guilty that he killed himself for Mae?" but the more I thought about it, the more I found it to work. Torbin's guilt isn't about that he did something evil, it's that he did something reckless, for a selfish reason, and that he was warned about it ahead of time. Torbin's guilt was about allowing Aniseya into his mind (blaming himself instead of blaming the person who actively invaded his very mind), it was about wanting so badly to go back to Coruscant that he rushed into a situation that Indara warned him to be careful about, it's about how many people died not at his hand, but as what he sees as a domino effect of his actions. He got what he wanted, they were going back to Coruscant, but that little girl went through hell for them to get it, another little girl died (so he thought), a bunch of people died in that mining facility. It doesn't matter that they chose to do so by invading Kelnacca's mind and their own actions got them killed. It doesn't matter that it was an accident that Mae started the fire. It doesn't matter that Torbin fortified his mind so that Aniseya couldn't get in again or that he didn't kill any of the witches himself. Because he's a Jedi who cares deeply about other people, because it happened to someone so young and innocent, because other people's lives MATTERED to him, Torbin couldn't live with the guilt. His only crime was being reckless, but Jedi are aware of the powerful abilities they have and the responsibilities they have and how selfishness is a path to the dark side (that's just Lucas' worldbuilding, that's literally how the Force works) and that is why he was willing to give his life up for Mae's wish. Because Torbin felt responsible for his reckless actions that had unforseen consequences despite Indara's warnings and because he cared deeply about what happened to other people. The Council probably would have given them all library duty and had them relearn themselves, like that's literally what they did with Elzar Mann when he killed Chancey Yarrow because he mistook her for a Nihil who was trying to destroy the station, they saw that he regretted his actions and had worked hard on self-reflection and said they still wanted him to be a Council member. That is what the Jedi Council would have done for Torbin and Sol as well--but they couldn't do it because it would have crushed Osha's dream, so they sacrificed their own desires for her sake. They couldn't talk about it and it haunted them every day afterwards. Because they cared about other people.
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★ . . . 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 , 𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖
summary , ferrari's team owners son is exposed for having a fan account for there number one driver and some how they end up fake dating for six months
pairing , heir! lance stroll x fem! f1 driver! reader
series masterlist | main masterlist | sol’s masterlist | f1 masterlist
yourinstagram
liked by carlossainz55 lance_stroll 79,479,480 others
yourinstagram a car launch and charity gala like no other 🥂✨
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user the way lance was trying to outbid Y/N the whole charity live stream was so funny to me
user the fact that Y/N and Lance sat at the same table doesn't sit right with me
user okay can we stop talking about the fan boy and talk about MOTHER
user the fact that lance's fan account is still posting about Y/N is WILDDDD
user okay enough of simp boy Y/N ate and left nothing
user the way Carlos and Y/N were side eyeing Lance the whole time was so funny
user I bet Lance was posting on his fan account during his event
user okay but the new car looks sexy af
user okay but imagine if they ended up dating
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MANAGER LUCY
I need you to date Lance Stroll
Y/N
who???
MANAGER LUCY
Lawrance's kid
he got exposed for having a fan account about you
and now he looks like a love sick idiot
and he has apprently been begged his father to get a date with you since you joined the team
but he has only now just given in to giving it to him
Y/N
so I have to go on a date with someone who I have only ever met for less than a day
cuz he got exposed for thirsting over me
and now he wants to date me
MANAGER LUCY
yup
they have sent a contract though
basically be with him for six months
and if you aren't happy by the end of it you can 'break up'
but your main job is to make this overgrown fan boys dream come true
also he is willing to pay alot of money
and you will get a better contact next year
Y/N
okay okay okay
fine
but six months and then I'm done
MANAGER LUCY
good to hear it
I'll send the paper work though in a bit
Y/N
great
also I just stalked his fan account it's actually quite in a weird kinda way
yourinstagram . 2hrs ago
seen by carlossainz55 landonorris 76,379,279 others
SIR LANCE-LOT
last week of dating....
LADY Y/N-INNGTON
yeah...
SIR LANCE-LOT
I don’t want this to end
LADY Y/N-INNGTON
me neither....
SIR LANCE-LOT
wanna go skiing
LADY Y/N-INNGTON
sure
but if this is gonna work plz stop with the fan account
I don’t need to lose even more privacy
SIR LANCE-LOT
but i have 700k followers :(((
LADY Y/N-INNGTON
I’ll buy you a ferrari to make up for it bae and I’ll let you inroduce me as your wifey to people
SIR LANCE-LOT
deal!!!!
no take backies
lance_stroll
liked by carlossainz55 lewishamilton 87,480,297 others
lance_stroll look mom I'm a house husband for real now
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user rip YNhusband_real you shall be missed
user bro is really living my dream huh
user nah him in his wag era fr now
user ICONIC
user ugh I don't know who I want more Y/N or Lance
user haters must be salty rn
user this is everything to me
user ferrari better not fuck Y/N strategy or else lance is gonna get them all fired
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#꒰꒰ ‧₊˚📁 ─ lola's works ˚₊· ꒱꒱#lance stroll#instagram au#instagram imagine#ls18#lance stroll imagine#lance stroll x reader#lance stroll x you#lance stroll fic#lance stroll fluff#lance stroll fanfiction#f1 blurb#f1 fluff#aston martin f1#f1 instagram au#instagram edit#fake instagram#f1 fandom#formula 1#insta edit#f1blr#f1edit#lance stroll x y/n#f1 x reader#formula one x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x y/n#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic
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"Solomon?" You ask, eyes unblinking like a lizard as you stare at your favourite Rat Bastard. "You know how you're immortal?"
Solomon turns to you in mock shock, "Really? Why I never wouldve guessed."
You deadpan. "It was a serious question."
Solomon smirks his usual evil smirk, which to anyone else observing would look like a pleasant smile. "Yes, and what about me being immortal, MC?"
"Well, did you ever know Merlin?" You tilt your head as Solomon's smile falters for a split second before he fixes it.
"..."
"Solomon?"
"Yes, I knew Merlin."
"Before or after you became a Rat Bastard?" You ask him, eyes trained on his pretty smile. (evil grin)
"Well...I may or may not've been good friends with him..."
"Do you think I could meet him?" You ask, bouncing one of your legs after you sit down on Solomon's workbench.
Solomon moves towards you, something flashing in his eyes for a split second before his hands find their rightful place around your waist. "No."
"Why not?" You pout.
"Because I'm the only famous sorcerer in your life." He states, that something flashing in his eyes once more. Something animalistic. If Solomon was a demon, you were sure his demon form would sprout out.
"What about Maddi?" You raise an eyebrow.
Solomon scoffs. "You hate Maddi. You put on a mask with Michael's face on it, and then tried to drown her in a ditch."
You shrug. "I'm just mad the bitch didn't drown."
"She did damage her oesophagos though." Solomon smiles evilly, actually evilly this time.
"So why can't I meet Merlin. I want his autograph." You bring th conversation back to the topic at hand, your flustered gaze trained to where the Great Sorcerer holds you by the waist possessively.
Solomon scoffs once more, grey eyes narrowed in on you. "And why do you want his autograph?"
"Because he's the greatest sorcerer to ever live? Duh."
Solomon's grip tightens at that. His brows furrow.
"...No he's not." The silver-haired sorcerer replies after an awkward moment of silence.
"Yes he is."
"No he's not." Solomon glares at you, grip tightening once more, it's almost painful. "I can give you my autograph if you yearn for one that badly. End of."
"But-" You pout, eyes flickering with the flame of mischief, wanting to see how far you can take this.
Solomon's eyes snap up and down your body before meeting your gaze, forcefully he moves closer to you, you lean back until he's directly in your face and your back is up against the surface of his workbench.
You feel his hot breath on your ear as he whispers, "The next words out of your mouth better be 'I love you Solomon!' or I'm not hearing them."
Your breath hitches, you suppress a grin, "It's just that-"
"Not hearing it."
"Emrys is just so cool-"
Solomon flicks you on the head for that one. He moves away from your ear so he can look at your face. Grey eyes instinctual and crazed.
"My darling apprentice....you don't want to know where this is headed." The Witty Sorcerer grits out, emphasising the word 'my' like it's an ancient incantation.
You stiffen, you've really done it now. There was no way you could keep teasing your favourite Michelin Star Murderer and come out unscathed.
A dark purple surrounds the sorcerer, are those flames?!
You pout, looking into the crazed feral eyes man who's about to lose control. You'd have to stop being a gremlin and take responsibility.
"Sol...I love you." You say, and you mean it.
And like clockwork, rhe dark purple flamey aura disappears, Solomon's grip loosens on you, he moves a little farther back, allowing you to get up off the surface of the workbench. His usual Rat Bastard smile returns, and the crazy feral look in his eyes diminish, never fully going away.
You raise an eyebrow teasingly, "So that's a no on meeting Merlin?"
Solomon sighs exasperatedly, love ever-present in his expression, "Forget Thirteen, you'll be the death of me."
You laugh, "Back to your Alchemy lesson now?"
Solomon chuckles. "Back to my Alchemy lesson." He nods, taking his hands off of you and walking over to his cauldron.
You follow him like a lost puppy, unaware of the extent of the danger just a few moments ago. Not danger you were in, of course, like Solomon could ever hurt you. But the rest of the realms?....well that's a different story....
Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Never wake a sleeping dragon....
Never underestimate the obsession love that Solomon the Wise has for his Darling Apprentice.
#i headcannon that merlin from bbc merlin is who solomon started the sorcerers society with because im stupid#ignore the fact that this doesnt make sense im so eepy#i was just in the mood for solomon being a dumbass with temper management issues okay#obey me shall we date#obey me x reader#obey me imagines#obey me headcanons#obey me mc#omswd#obey me solomon#obey me solomon x reader
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everywhere everything all at once | c.hansol
in which vernon would chose you every life time, based on his favorite movie :)
ive been writing alot of vernon latelyyyy (if u get the movie and references, give me a hug.)
-
the screen went black after the movie ended leaving vernon and you speechless
this had to be one of the most beautiful movies you two had seen after binging so many. you turned over to vernon who was still staring at the screen with a blank stare, reading his facial expression you moved a piece of his hair out of his face to get a better view which knocked him out of his trance
slightly flinching at the sudden touch but relaxed realizing it was you
“whats on your mind?”
you asked still looking up at him
“would you love me in every life time?”
the question stunned you for a second, why was he asking this so suddenly?
“i mean waymond loved her in all of his lives. so i was just thinking…
would you love me in all your lives?
would you even choose me?”
each question left you shocked, because you hoped he knew the answer already. but sometimes everyone needs reminders,
right?
“sol,” you started catching gaining back his attention. he slightly turned his head to you as if he was afraid of what youd say
“ill choose and love you in every life i live. even if youre not a option and i have to find you myself, ill do that just do be loved by you in every single universe of mine”
vernon finally looked at you and smile slightly contented with you answer. he held you a bit closer and ran his hand through his hair
“i knew youd say that, i just wanted a little…
reminder?”
“i know.”
“i would choose you in every lifetime of mines too
i dont think i could ever live without you”
so there you both were, laying on the couch holding eachother knowing that even if the universe did set you apart, you both would slowly find eachother again no matter the circumstances
because you know he would look for you, and you know you would look for him
no matter if you two were rocks in the same pile, you would dig through the other rocks to find him. a special rock, one that shines in your eyes and to that he’ll look for you and once he finds you, you both will live as rocks together
happy
intertwined, sewn together
(did this mofo just go on a rant about rocks…?)
#serejae#chwe vernon x reader#svt vernon#vernon angst#vernon fluff#chwe vernon#seventeen vernon#vernon#vernon x reader#svt x reader#svt fluff#svt angst#svt imagines#svt#seventeen angst#seventeen fluff#seventeen imagines#seventeen x reader#seventeen#kpop x reader#kpop imagines#kpop
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Spiders are some very freaky sex deviants. Just a little something on how I think Miguel would let a couple of those spider sensations come out during sexy times.
My first time trying a drabble. I'm not used to writing something short like this, but here I go~
Word count: 608
CW: 18+, oral pleasure (F receiving), light bondage, not proof read
Divder by the @thecutestgrotto
You've been wanting to incorporate some of the spider mating rituals you read about, simply because you were curious. You remember easing your findings during dinner, catching him a bit off guard.
“Is this what you do during your off days and when I'm not around?”
“Always good to know random trivia.” You chuckled nervously, taking a bite out of the takeout in front.
Miguel was silent for a bit, not easing your anxiousness at all. Maybe curiosity did kill the cat, well, the spider in this case. Ready to laugh it off, pretending that you were joshing around, he sighed out.
“Alright. Tell me what you learned.”
That startled you. You weren't expecting that. You were already delving into the rabbit hole of if what you did was overstepping boundaries, but he tapped the table and called your name.
“Will you tell me, or do you prefer to have it demonstrated hands on?”
So he confirmed your intrigued nature. You decided to not tell him, but act out how the female spider would act out during these said rituals. Getting ready and prepared in the bathroom then settled on the bed. You didn't alert him when he could come in, instead you sat there and waited for him to come, waited for him to come to you.
He didn't move from the living room for almost five minutes, when he got a whiff of the Sol de Janeiro Cheirosa 59. You only pulled that out for special occasions, so tonight was extra special. Trekking to the room, he opens the door, but doesn't stick his head through.
“Mi reina? Everything okay?” Miguel croaked out.
“Hm, is that a prey or something more?” You hum out, earning a groan for him.
Miguel taps the door a couple of times, alerting you that he wants to mate, and you signal him to come in. Miguel walks in, but stands there, and refuses to move an inch, eyeing you in your silky, short nightgown. You remember that some female spiders have to approach the male, and slide yourself off, but tantalizingly slow. You swore you already saw a drop of a sweat roll down his forehead.
Standing in front, Miguel began to stroke your face down to your breasts, your curves, stomach, and hips. His pupils are huge and before you know it, you find yourself on your back of the mattress, legs spread apart with Miguel making out with your exposed cunt.
He usually takes his time, but tonight, it was a whole other ballgame. You did read that there are spiders that like to give oral, and Miguel was no stranger to it.
His tongue whirling like a maniac, jutting in and out and picking up the pace whenever you felt your walls clamp around it. Your legs could barely move because Miguel held them down. You got an idea and started to try and close. Sometimes male spiders like to bind the female spider, not enough to keep her immobilized, but to ease.
So why not test it out?
You used a bit of strength to push his grip when you heard the famous thwip, and sure enough, you were tied to the bed. His mouth was glistening with his spit and juices, and his eyes had a primal glare.
“Shh, don't worry, relax, relax. I got you.” Miguel leaned back down, mouth wide open and went right back to eating you out. The way his jaw was opening and closing at an insane speed on your vulva had you seeing the multiverse.
Now you needed to dig deeper on what else freaky things spiders are into.
#miguel fanfic#miguel x reader#miguel smut#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara#miguel x you#miguel x fem!reader#miguel o'hara x reader#short story#drabble#miguel x y/n#atsv miguel#miguel spiderverse#miguel o’hara x reader#oneshot
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Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur!- Solivan brugmansia x Yan!G.N Reader! (Part 2!)
The kid at the back is a 18+ visual novel Minors don't interact!
Words:9000
Genre: Yandere-(Self aware yandere won the poll)
Summary: You’ve become consumed by your obsession with Solivan Brugmansia. What started as innocent curiosity quickly spiraled into a fixation. He started it and you began to stalk him, learning every detail about his life. You felt a sick sense of satisfaction in making Sol’s world safer while growing increasingly delusional about your connection with him. Your love for him deepens as you fantasize about the future, convinced that you are the one who truly understands him—better than anyone else. Despite the line between reality and obsession blurring, you remain certain: Sol is yours, even if he doesn’t know it yet.. You're his and he's yours...
( Reader is a g.n!)-
Trigger Warning: This content contains themes of obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, mental instability, and delusional thinking, Drugging, Yandere?, Hopeless in love for attention Please read with caution.
Obsessive behavior: The reader becomes dangerously fixated on someone, bordering on stalking and delusion.
Manipulation: The reader engages in schemes to control or harm others, often through deception.
Mental illness: Delusional thinking, possible dissociation from reality, and unhealthy fixation on someone.
Violence: There are references to bullying, physical harm, and emotional manipulation.
Emotional abuse: Both in terms of how the protagonist manipulates others and how they might internalize toxic behaviors.
Stalking: The reader watches and follows the person they are obsessed with.
EXTRA: He's a character from a game named The kid at the back!! Note, The relationship presented here between sol and reader is extremely toxic!! In no way, Just because I'm writing doesn't mean I support this kind of toxicity. Note, It's okay to like sol if you know the flaws and don't be a blind eye on them! Again, I don't support his actions etc! If you hate sol ignore this.
It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee.
DAY 1: The Beloved
“I will not accept one paragraph! I need two whole pages filled with words. Everyone got that?”
The teacher’s voice grated on your ears like nails on a chalkboard. Not that the assignment was hard—you could churn out two pages in your sleep if you wanted to. Writing wasn’t the issue. No, the real problem was the waste.
Two pages of meaningless drivel on some boring topic when you could be filling those pages with him. Words dedicated to Sol, the way his green-streaked hair falls just so, the sharpness of his jawline, the way he speaks as if he’s barely trying and yet every word hooks you like a line to the heart. Two pages about Sol? Easy. Two pages about anything else? Insulting.
You shift in your seat, feeling the familiar burn in your chest. It’s not anger exactly—it’s this gnawing, this aching thing that starts deep inside you every time someone pulls your focus away from him.
And your journal. Oh, your journal. You’d filled its pages with his name, over and over again. Sketches of him, even ones of the two of you together—his hand in yours, his lips grazing your cheek. Perfect. You flip it closed quickly, sliding it under your textbook as a passing student glances your way. No one gets to see those. They wouldn’t understand.
You glance at the clock. The rooftop. You’re running out of time. You bite your lip and glance at the book again. Just one more sketch… no, focus!
The doodle of you and Sol holding hands stares back at you. It’s so cute, you can’t help the small giggle bubbling in your throat. What would he think if he saw this? Would he call it pathetic or perfect? Would he notice the details? The way I drew him smiling?
The smile falters. No.
Not yet. He doesn’t get to see this yet—not until it’s perfect. Not until you are perfect.
With a deep breath, you slam the book shut and stand, forcing the manic swirl of thoughts into a neat little box in the back of your mind. Control. Stay calm. Don’t let anyone see.
There’s plenty of time to admire him later. For now, you’ll play along, just like always.
But inside, your thoughts swirled, chaotic and relentless. You could feel the edges of your obsession creeping in, clawing at your composure.
Why Sol? Why does he get to me like this? Is it his smile? The way his voice sounds like music when he talks to Hyugo about me? Maybe it’s his obesseion Or maybe it’s because I’m just...
You paused, staring blankly at the paper in front of you. Messed up. Rotten. Broken. No wonder I’m drawn to him. He’s the only one who makes me feel like I could be fixed.
You shook your head, banishing the thought. No time for self-pity. You had to get to the rooftop soon, and you couldn’t go up there acting like some lovesick fool.
Standing up from your seat, you were about to grab your bag when you felt a tap on your shoulder.
Turning around, you saw Brittney—the Chipette—no, Crowe’s friend. Her. You pause, giving her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she’s trying to talk to you, pretend to be friendly. It must be Crowe’s idea. Of course, it is. Brittney doesn’t do anything without some ulterior motive, right? Sharp tongue wrapped in hard words. But… maybe she’s different. she’s kind. Sometimes, she actually tries. It's just she's bad at talking.
A fallen angel in disguise.
You tilt your head slightly, watching her fumble. She doesn’t know how to approach you. Does she think I’m some kid who needs to be scolded? Her nervous glance tell you that. She’s probably going to say something about how wrong it is to obsess over Sol. Does she know? She doesn't know. No one knows.
And Sol isn’t a “kid.” He’s perfect. He’s 6’ of celestial art, every inch of him carved like he was meant to be worshipped, adored. He’s everything. You feel your pulse quicken just thinking about him.
“Hey, you’re going to lunch with us, right?” Brittney starts, pulling you back. “I mean, you should. I don’t usually see you in the cafeteria nowadays, so you must not be eating properly…”
You blink at her. Lunch? The cafeteria? You don’t go there anymore. Not since Sol.
Because Sol hates it. He hates the noise.
He didn’t say it outright, of course. He doesn’t have to. You know it. You feel it in the way he moves, in the small looks he gives the space, in the way he brushes off people there. It’s loud. It’s annoying. He doesn’t like it. So you don’t like it either.
It’s one of the small ways you show your love for him, even if he doesn’t know. Even if no one knows. You don’t need their approval. You don’t need their judgment. You learned to cook, after all! Sol likes to cook too. Isn’t that just fate? It’s like the universe tying you together, thread by thread.
You learned to decorate your food everyday so when he sees he can smile. You made sure to change your wallpaper to a pumpkin so when he might try to check, he will think you like them..
Its all for him..
You always come early, leave your food on your spot on the rooftop so you can watch him later. Just watch. When he’s with Hyugo, you catch glimpses of their meals. Sol always seems to cook for him.
Sol cooks for Hyugo…
Your chest twists. Your grip tightens on your bag.
You wonder when it’ll be you. When will it be you he cooks for? When will you be the one he eats with, laughs with, looks at? Domestic, happy, married—together, forever.
"We will be a happy family together, right Sol? Don't we be together forever...?"
The thought makes your stomach flutter, your lips twitch into an almost-smile. You’re almost dizzy with it. Wouldn’t that be perfect? Wouldn’t that be just right? Sol and you, a home, no one else, just the two of you…
Your breath catches. Stop. Not here. Not in front of her. Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it—
“Hello? You okay?” Brittney’s voice pulls you back.
You blink. Smile. Tilt your head like nothing’s wrong. “I’m fine,” you say, even though you can still feel that wild, spiraling need thrumming in your chest.
Sol would be proud of how well you can hide it. Don’t you think?
You were about to refuse politely, maybe even brush her off, but then Brittney added something that made your blood freeze.
"How can you keep up with classes looking like that? You look like you haven't slept in months. You almost look like a crazed person."
Excuse me?
The words hit like a slap, a harsh reminder of how others saw you. You felt your skin flush, the urge to lash out simmering beneath the surface. No one, no one, was supposed to notice that. Not her. Not anyone. She didn’t know what you were really up to—how could she?
But you caught yourself, staring at her without blinking, trying to suppress the bitter taste in your mouth. You had to hold it together. She was just… clueless. Clueless in the same way everyone else was. She didn't know what you did, how you spent your nights, how you fed your obsession, how you kept everything in line. To her, you were just the weird, sleep-deprived kid who could barely hold it together in class.
You blinked slowly, trying to keep your expression neutral. Don’t let her see how much her words hurt. No one was supposed to see that. You felt a little… off, but you didn’t let it show. You were in control, at least, on the outside.
She realized, too late, that she'd crossed a line. The awkwardness in the air was thick, and you could almost see the regret flicker behind her eyes. Maybe she felt sorry for you? But no, it wasn’t pity. It was something else. Something… less clean.
In truth, you felt a small pang of something almost like guilt. It was strange. You felt… bad for her? You knew Brittney had no idea what she was stepping into. How could she? She wasn’t part of this world you had so carefully constructed, a world that only you understood. She was just someone who thought she was being kind, trying to make conversation.
You sighed softly, resisting the urge to show any emotion. She didn’t deserve to feel bad about it. No, she didn’t deserve that.
"That's really insensitive of you! Imagine if someone else told you about how you look," Crowe’s voice cuts through, a protector once again.
You glance at Brittney. Ugh, such a showoff, trying to play the hero. You barely let it phase you, though. You’re above this.
"Brittney’s just trying, Crowe, I don’t really take offense,” you say, smiling sweetly, but it’s more for your own benefit than anyone else’s.
Crowe looks at you, clearly taken aback. Oh, poor Crowe, so clueless. He thought you’d be hurt? You almost giggle at his innocence.
“Well, you’re the one who insisted on me initiating talk. If you really want to rescue them, there are better ways to be their prince charming, Crowe.” You throw a playful smirk his way. This game’s so easy. He’s trying so hard… for what?
You snicker, watching his face twist in confusion. God, he’s like a lost child when their momma takes away their candy. It’s almost adorable…
"You could’ve done it more nicely, you know. A simple invite would’ve sufficed,” he murmur, you still have the sweet smile plastered across your face. He’s pushing so hard for attention. What’s he trying to prove? You don’t need more friends. Friends are just competition… people getting in the way of your Sol. It's a distraction.
You glance over at the three people you know in the circle—one of them, Subaru. The thought of him nearly makes your stomach churn. Such a fool. You shake your head.
Love is what makes a Subaru a Subaru
You choke on your own thoughts, trying to push the smile from your face. Shut up, Y/n. Just shut up for a second. That quote doesn't deserve Geo
“Damn Brit, you sure are bad at socializing! Hey, Geo! Looks like you’ve got competition!” Deryl’s voice cuts in, a stupid grin spreading across his face.
Brittney’s face turns red. You feel your lips curl into a soft, dangerous smile. Time to save the poor thing.
"At least she tries something," you say, cutting into the moment. "Unlike Mr. Scaramoose over here… Mister Deryl Helianth. It’s okay…"
Deryl’s eyes widen. "You know my full government name?!?" The jock is practically bouncing with excitement. How cute. He thinks it matters.
You smile sweetly. "No, not at all." You really didn’t need to know anything about him. You’ve just been collecting information on everyone. Your eyes flick over to the name data you’ve carefully pulled from the class roster. But Sol’s name isn’t on there… why isn’t his name listed? The thought itches at the back of your mind. I’ll check the Art class today.
Sigh…
"They must have gotten it from the student council. You helped me a lot that day, Y/n. Thanks," Crowe says with a soft smile. Oh, how genuine. How sweet.
But you did it for yourself, didn’t you? You did it to make sure you knew everything about him. To see if Sol was in the same room. Same class..
Any class...
Crowe’s obliviousness is almost painful, but you don’t let it show.
You shake the thought away. Sol, Sol, Sol. There you go again, thinking about him. You feel a silly, wild smile threatening to take over your face. Great job, Y/n. You almost look like a crazy person again.
“Shut the fuck up, Deryl!” Brittney screeches, saving you from your own spiraling thoughts.
You sigh in relief. Finally, a distraction.
While they bicker, you look at Geo, sticking your tongue out. You know it’ll annoy him, and that’s just too fun to pass up. His angry gaze snaps to you. You flash him your sweetest, most angelic smile in return.
Oh, Geo… you think, enjoying his discomfort just a little too much. You turn your gaze to the meek girl beside Brittney, Jess, who’s been silent the whole time. Poor thing. Probably doesn’t even realize how much you hate her existence.
“Sorry,” He says putting on a sympathetic voice. “They’re kind of a rowdy bunch, huh?”
Crowe laughs, scratching the back of his head. “You’re the most normal person I know, Y/n.”
Normal? Oh, if only you knew. If only he could see the things you hide. The way your mind swirls with dark thoughts. The plans you’ve already made.
"Normal?" You smile sweetly again. "Yeah, sure!"
Normal? Sure, if that’s what they want to think. But behind those eyes of yours, it's a whole different story. Behind those closed doors, in the stillness of your room, you sit there, mapping out every move Sol makes. Watching. Waiting. Planning.
You’ve got this figured out. It’s mutual craziness, isn’t it? Stalking is just a step closer to true love, right? After all, Sol’s already there, watching you too.
Crowe introduces Jess to you, and you can’t help but pinch her cheek. Just like Sol would. Your heart skips a beat at the thought, the way you’d touch Sol the same way, so tenderly, so possessively.
You smile, your eyes glazing over, lost in the fantasy.
"Thank Beyonce," you think, when Brittney screams again, snapping you out of your daydream.
"Are you coming with us or what?" Brittney asks, her voice cutting through the haze of your thoughts.
Geo and Deryl exchange whispers. You don’t hear the words, but the feeling between them is thick, charged. Geo glances at you, his eyes narrowing, an intensity behind them that makes your stomach twist in knots.
You just smile and shrug. “I’m not coming. I’ve got to do something about the assignment.”
Crowe furrows his brows, unsure. “Are you sure?”
Geo pushes him out of the way, throwing a glance at you. His eyes are cold, pissed off. But why? Why would he be mad?
You don’t care. “Yeah, I’m sure. I want to see how the show plays out today, just like yesterday. Like the day before. And so on.”
You giggle, the insanity behind your eyes barely concealed. “Thanks, George of the Jungle!”
Geo hisses under his breath, storming off. Good riddance.
Finally, you’re alone, the game once again in your hands.
You approached the usual vent that led to the rooftop, your thoughts on the familiar, quiet solitude awaiting you there. You needed it more than ever. But as you got closer, your heart sank. The vent… it was blocked. A large metal panel, freshly installed, covered the usual opening.
You froze for a moment, blinking in disbelief, your mind racing. No, no, no… This was your only escape. Your only way to break free from the suffocating weight of everything. You reached forward, pressing your hand against the cool metal, but it didn’t budge. It felt like the world itself was closing in around you.
Your gaze shot over to the construction worker nearby, the one handling some tools by the wall. You quickly approached him, a sense of urgency bubbling in your chest. "Hey, what's going on with the vent?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.
He looked up, wiping his brow before answering. “Oh, that? A tall student, Subaru, complained about the vents being damaged. The university decided to get it fixed right away. They’re installing some new system to keep people from sneaking up through there. Too many people have been climbing in and out, I guess. They said it needed to be blocked off.”
Your blood ran cold as the realization hit you like a sledgehammer. Subaru. That tall, irritating… Scaramouche wannabe.
Damn it.
You almost couldn't breathe, the frustration building inside you so quickly it hurt. You clenched your fists so tightly, your nails dug into your palm. It was him. That bastard had complained about the vents just to block your access. He knew! He knew how much you relied on that small escape, that bit of freedom. And now it was gone—ruined because of his petty complaint.
“Wait," you snapped, your voice dangerously low, "Can you fix it? Please. I need to get through." You could feel the heat rising to your face, a mix of anger and panic. You had to get up there. You had to see Sol. There was no other way.
The construction worker shook his head. “Sorry, kid. They’ve already decided to seal it up. The system’s being locked down. No going through there anymore. If it's rooftop just use the damned stairs. Even then, kids are not gonna listen. Even grownups like you are idiotic."
But you use it for...Rooftop so they can't see
Your world tilted, your vision narrowing. No… no! You could feel your chest tightening, the walls closing in. You were so close. You were this close to seeing him, to feeling something again, but now it was slipping through your fingers.
Geo, that fucking prick! Your heart raced with frustration, your mind spinning. Why did he have to ruin everything?
You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood, the urge to scream rising inside you. It wasn’t fair. You couldn’t even reach Sol now, because that damn fool had gotten in the way. You paced in front of the blocked vent, your mind unraveling. You tried to breathe, tried to think of something—anything—but all that came to mind was the surge of anger that made your head spin.
You turned away abruptly, fist clenched tightly at your side, barely holding back the raw frustration that threatened to burst out of you. "Fucking bitch," you muttered under your breath. You didn’t even realize the words had escaped until they echoed through the air.
You cursed under your breath again, letting the anger rage inside you like a storm, unable to quell it. All that rage, all that tension was boiling over, and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
You stood there, Your fingers trembled as you tried to think of another way. The stairs, you thought. The staircase that led to the rooftop—it was a long shot, but maybe you could get up there without anyone noticing.
You glanced around, hoping no one was watching. The stairway to the other side of the rooftop was a bit more hidden, so if you were careful, maybe—just maybe—you could sneak your way up without anyone spotting you. Your mind raced, trying to calculate the risks. There was a chance they’d notice you going up, but you didn’t care. You had to see him today. It wasn’t a choice anymore—it was an obsession, a need, a desperate craving.
You made your way toward the stairwell, a strange mix of hope and anxiety flooding your chest. Just be quiet, don’t get spotted… you repeated to yourself like a mantra.
But the moment you stepped into the stairwell, you felt something shift inside of you. What if they catch you? What if they find out? The thought of someone seeing you make your way to the rooftop, of someone witnessing you sneak away like this, made your stomach churn. The fear crawled up your spine, but you couldn’t stop now. You had to do this for yourself.
You tried to silence the little voice that whispered doubts in your ear. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about being caught.
But the stairs—the stairs were the wrong ones. You turned the corner too fast, your heart pounding louder with every step. You’d entered the wrong pair of stairs, a different exit leading to an entirely different side of the building. A side where the students could see you—where he could see you. The panic rose in your throat. No, no, no… You cursed under your breath.
The walls felt like they were closing in around you. Your hands gripped the railing tightly, trying to steady yourself as your chest tightened with dread. It’s too much. It’s too risky. You’ll be caught.
The weight of it all hit you then, the tears pricking at the back of your eyes. Sol… you can’t even see him anymore. You’re losing everything.
A soft sob escaped your lips, quickly smothered by the desperate need to control yourself. You wiped your eyes, but they wouldn’t stop, your tears betraying you. Why was it so hard? Why did everything feel like it was slipping through your fingers?
You felt small, insignificant, lost in a world that was spinning too fast. Why did it have to be so hard? Why couldn’t you just have a simple moment with him? To see his face, to be near him, to exist in his world for just a little while.
Your breath hitched again, sobbing softly to yourself, trying to stifle the noise. You hated how weak you felt, how exposed you were. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to be crying over something so ridiculous, over something you couldn’t control. But in that moment, you didn’t care. You just wanted to see him.
You needed him.
Why couldn’t you just be normal? you thought bitterly, wiping your nose as you swallowed the lump in your throat. Why did it have to be so complicated? Every day felt like a fight—a fight against yourself, against your own cravings, against everything pulling you toward him.
The sobs were quiet, but they felt so loud in the silence of the stairwell. You felt pathetic—helpless, even. But there was no turning back now. You had to get to the roof. You had to see him.
You blinked hard, forcing your tears to stop. It was time to take action. Be sneaky, be careful. You can do this.
You wiped your face, sucked in a breath, and kept climbing the stairs, hoping that just one more turn would lead you to him.
You couldn’t stop the tears from falling as you reached the rooftop, your breath shaky and uneven. The cool breeze barely brushed your face, but the overwhelming sense of sadness flooded your chest, crushing it under its weight.
Sol… Sol… where are you? Your heart hammered painfully in your chest as you looked around, searching desperately. But the rooftop was empty. No sign of him. Not a shadow, not a glimpse.
You felt a sob tear through your chest, the tears flowing freely as your eyes glazed over with an almost feverish kind of longing. Why isn't he here? you thought with a sort of irrational desperation. But deep down, you knew. It wasn’t about finding him here on the rooftop. It was about needing him so badly that it felt like your insides were turning to ash.
Your vision blurred with the endless cascade of tears, and your head dropped, defeated. A few soft sobs escaped you, echoing in the emptiness. Why did it hurt so much? You didn’t care that the tears were endless, that the ache in your heart was growing. It felt both agonizing and strangely satisfying.
Your eyes were wide, lovesick and sad, the desperation leaking out of every pore. You couldn’t stop the thoughts from spinning. I need him… I need him so badly… It hurt, but the hurt was like some sick form of comfort. Every pang of longing, every tear that slipped from your eyes only added to the twisted ache that thrummed in your chest.
You wiped your face, but it didn’t matter. The tears kept coming, flowing out like some uncontrollable river.
Sol… you whispered softly to yourself, your voice trembling.
You felt so small, so lost in this need for him, yet at the same time, you felt alive. Alive in a way that only came with this kind of madness. This kind of longing.
And it felt so good.
A high, sick laugh that made your stomach churn. You couldn’t even believe it yourself, but there it was—uncontrollable and desperate.
"Ha…ha…haha…" you whispered to yourself, almost crazed with it, your tears mixing with your laughter in a strange, disorienting way. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t healthy. But it felt right. It felt like it made sense in some deranged, twisted way.
And still, you looked around, trying to get a glimpse, even just a hint of him. But there was nothing. The emptiness was deafening.
.
You felt a sob tear through your chest, the tears flowing freely as your eyes glazed over with an almost feverish kind of longing. Why isn't he here? you thought with a sort of irrational desperation. But deep down, you knew. It wasn’t about finding him here on the rooftop. It was about needing him so badly that it felt like your insides were turning to ash.
Your vision blurred with the endless cascade of tears, and your head dropped, defeated. A few soft sobs escaped you, echoing in the emptiness. Why did it hurt so much? You didn’t care that the tears were endless, that the ache in your heart was growing. It felt both agonizing and strangely satisfying.
Your eyes were wide, lovesick and sad, the desperation leaking out of every pore. You couldn’t stop the thoughts from spinning. I need him… I need him so badly… It hurt, but the hurt was like some sick form of comfort. Every pang of longing, every tear that slipped from your eyes only added to the twisted ache that thrummed in your chest.
You wiped your face, but it didn’t matter. The tears kept coming, flowing out like some uncontrollable river.
Sol… you whispered softly to yourself, your voice trembling.
You felt so small, so lost in this need for him, yet at the same time, you felt alive. Alive in a way that only came with this kind of madness. This kind of longing.
And it felt so good.
The rooftop’s chill stung your tear-soaked cheeks, and you were ready to leave with a heavy heart when an unfamiliar voice caught your attention. It wasn’t Sol’s—no, you’d know his voice anywhere—but someone else entirely. You walked fo the sound of the voice cautiously, you spotted Hyugo.
He stood a few steps away, holding a phone to his ear, speaking in a language you couldn’t quite identify. His tone was firm, measured, but whatever he was saying wasn’t your concern. You were only focused on how this wasn’t Sol.
Still, you watched for a moment longer, curiosity briefly flickering through your sadness. You took a step back, intending to leave unnoticed. But just as you turned, a hand clamped down on your shoulder, freezing you in place. Your heart jumped to your throat as you felt his breath near your neck and something cold—too cold—pressed against your skin.
A knife.
"Who are you? Speak, unless you want to get yourself into big trouble," Hyugo said lowly, his voice sharp and unforgiving.
"I’m—uh, Y/n L/n of class 4-B! Please don’t kill me!" you stammered, panic slipping through every word. You couldn’t help but hope—no, pray—that he’d recognize your name as someone Sol would vouch for, even if it was just in your own delusional mind.
The grip on your shoulder slackened slightly. Relief bloomed in your chest, though it was short-lived as Hyugo shifted, striking a pose that reminded you of Sherlock Holmes—a pose you knew he adored. You’d overheard him ranting about it to Sol once, and that memory made you laugh internally. Sol’s pained expression had been adorable.
But now wasn’t the time for that. You were trapped here, and Hyugo seemed more amused than threatening at this point. His eyes narrowed as he muttered, “Y/n L/n… Why does that sound familiar? Class 4-B too…”
You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath, “Probably because you won’t stop teasing Sol about me.”
Foolishly, you threw a punch in frustration, aiming for his smug face. Hyugo caught your fist with ease, still holding that ridiculous Sherlock pose. The corner of his lips twitched in amusement as he tightened his grip on your hand, making you wince.
"Sol, save me from this bitch," your thoughts screamed as you glared at Hyugo, who seemed all too entertained by your antics.
Hyugo clapped his hands together in mock prayer, bowing with theatrical flourish. “I remember now! What impeccable timing, Y/n!” he said, his voice dripping with faux gratitude.
You stared blankly. What was he doing?
“I need your help,” he continued, straightening up dramatically. “You see, I have a familial emergency and can’t attend my next class. I promised my partner I’d be there, though, and since you’re from the same class… could you take over for me?”
You blinked, incredulous. “What kind of person are you? You just threatened me with a knife, and now you’re asking for favors? What are you, some yakuza kid?”
Hyugo’s smug smile faltered for a moment before his eyes widened in realization. “Oh,” he muttered, fixing his posture. Then, as if nothing happened, he threw you a wink and a thumbs up. “The name’s Hyugo Sugimoto! From class 4-A!” he declared proudly. “But I take mixed classes with Mister Allan to catch up on some, uh… subjects I missed last year.”
You folded your arms, unimpressed. His attempt at charm wasn’t working, especially when he pulled out his knife again, dangling it casually. “It’s for self-defense,” he explained, launching into an unnecessary monologue. You stopped listening entirely, your mind already halfway to its breaking point.
But then, something in his tone shifted. The goofy grin fell from his face, replaced by a much more serious expression.
“Do you have friends, Y/n?”
You recoiled slightly, the question catching you off guard. “Yes, I do,” you shot back defensively.
Hyugo tilted his head. “Yeah, but don’t you ever feel like… you’re doing too much for them?”
The words struck a chord, silencing you. Was he talking about Sol? Your chest tightened, but you refused to let it show.
“He’s not the best guy out there,” Hyugo said, and you winced. You knew Sol wasn’t perfect. His methods were unconventional, his actions borderline obsessive—but that was fine. You loved him. You understood him. Your relationship thrived on the kind of chaos no one else could grasp.
“But you…” Hyugo continued, his gaze unwavering. “Maybe you’ll be the one who understands him.”
Your breath hitched. “I do,” you murmured, so quietly you weren’t sure he even heard.
You smiled faintly, a flicker of something almost kind crossing his face. “I’m sure Solivan Brugmansia appreciates what you do.”
The mention of Sol’s full name sent your heart racing. You froze, staring at Hyugo, trying to process the weight of his words.
Hyugo clapped his hands suddenly, breaking the tension. “So please, be his partner in Art Appreciation!” he pleaded, his dramatic energy returning full force. “He needs someone who gets him! He needs someone like you!"
Your mind spiraled. Was the next class Sol’s? Could it really be? Your lips parted in shock, but before you could speak, Hyugo’s expression darkened. “Wait,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Did you just say his name?”
You blinked, regaining some composure. “What? No. You misheard me,” you said, feigning calmness. Manipulation came naturally to you, and you knew how to keep your face unreadable. “I never opened my mouth."
It was weird.
Hyugo dropped to his knees in a dramatic, pleading pose, resembling a pitiful clown more than the dangerous man who had just threatened you moments ago. His serious tone dissolved into a mess of blubbering theatrics.
“Please! I’m begging you! Be his partner!” he wailed, hands clasped as if in prayer.
“Alright, alright! I’ll do it! Just get the hell up already!” you snapped, exasperated.
Hyugo’s eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “You mean it? Thank you, Y/n! I knew you were the right person for this!” He shot up, nearly knocking you over in his enthusiasm.
“His name is Sol! Solivan Brugmansia! Don’t worry, you won’t miss him!” he said brightly, grinning ear to ear.
Your heart stopped. Sol. It was Sol. A jolt of electricity shot through you like the world had just revealed a cosmic secret. This was how you were going to meet him for the first time? Your head spun, and you couldn’t decide if you wanted to scream, laugh, or cry.
Without waiting for a reaction, Hyugo gave you a firm pat on the shoulder, his demeanor softening just enough to catch you off guard. “Crying doesn’t suit people like you, Y/n,” he said, his voice oddly sincere. Then, just as suddenly, he turned on his heel and sprinted off, leaving you stunned in the middle of the rooftop.
Your thoughts swirled, tangled in emotions you couldn’t even name.
You felt the tears still clinging to your cheeks, but instead of sadness, an uncontrollable smile spread across your face. The weight of earlier despair evaporated as Hyugo's words echoed in your mind. Solivan Brugmansia… you’ll be his partner…
Your heart leaped as you imagined him, the way his name rolled off your tongue like a song written just for you. “Ahhh… Sol!” you squealed softly, bouncing in place like an overjoyed child. You hugged yourself, spinning in a circle with daydreams overtaking reality.
This was better than any rooftop sighting—this was fate pulling the strings of your love story! Your knees wobbled as you imagined what it would be like sitting beside him, sharing notes, the way his hand might brush yours while pointing at something in a textbook. Your daydreams spiraled into a symphony of possibilities, each one sweeter than the last.
You clutched your chest dramatically, the hopeless romantic in you fully awakened. “He’s perfect,” you murmured, giggling as your face burned with a lovesick blush. You jumped again, unable to stop yourself from squealing, “I love him!”
Lost in your swirling thoughts, you didn’t even notice the bell ringing in the distance.
There's still. Time. I'll head to Library...For.. Maybe assignment.
You stepped into the library, the comforting mix of coffee and aged books wrapping around you like a soft blanket. Normally, this was your safe haven—a place to sketch and dream without interruption. Your perfect little corner, tucked away from prying eyes, was waiting.
But today… everything shattered the moment you saw him.
Your heart came to a screeching halt, and your lungs forgot how to breathe. There, sitting at one of the tables, completely absorbed in his book, was him. Solivan Brugmansia.
Your legs locked in place, and every gear in your brain shifted into overdrive. You couldn’t move, couldn’t think—just stare. His long fingers lightly turned the page, the soft motion oddly captivating. His sharp jawline framed his face, leading up to cheekbones so defined they looked like they were carved from marble. His dark, slightly wavy hair fell messily over his forehead, catching the faint sunlight streaming through the window.
His lashes were long, casting delicate shadows over his cheeks as his eyes—those intense, unique hues you couldn't forget—traveled across the words in his book. The air around him felt magnetic, an invisible force pulling you closer, drowning you in admiration. His lips moved faintly as if he were silently mouthing the words, and you almost melted on the spot.
It hit you all over again. This is him. This is Sol.
You felt like a mess—your clothes felt wrong, your hair felt wrong, you felt wrong. Why now?! Why does he have to look like an angel when I look like this? You were so close to running out, but your feet stayed planted, refusing to move.
You drank in every detail, heart hammering like a lovesick fool. The way his shoulders leaned slightly forward as he read, his posture casual but refined. The faint scuff on the corner of his book as if he had been reading it everywhere. Even the small crease in his brow hinted at his concentration.
Your fingers itched for your sketchbook. You wanted to draw him again, every line and curve, as if your pencil could capture even a fraction of what made him so perfect. But then your gaze shifted—there were other students around, eyes occasionally darting toward him. Of course, you thought bitterly. How could they not?
The idea of pulling out your sketchbook felt risky, almost too obvious. And yet the urge to immortalize this moment, this sight of him, was clawing at your chest.
You swallowed hard, stepping back toward the corner, hoping he wouldn’t notice your frantic gaze. But even as you moved, your eyes refused to leave him. So close, yet so far... you thought, feeling every bit the love-drunk, hopeless fool you were.
Oh, how my heart shivers, lovesick and wild, Caught in your gaze, like a star-struck child. Your eyes, deep constellations, chart the skies, Pulling me closer with each soft sunrise. Your hair, dark rivers where the moonlight dips, Your name a melody upon my lips. I see you in whispers, in shadows, in dreams, A presence that wraps me in love’s silent screams.
You took a steadying breath, willing yourself to act composed, to not let your trembling hands or lovesick expression give you away. Solivan Brugmansia—your Sol—was sitting in your seat. That sacred corner, your little world, now graced by his presence. The thought made your pulse race, equal parts thrill and terror.
You couldn’t help it; your eyes roamed over him, absorbing every detail like a parched soul drinking in the rain. His hair caught the faint library light, the strands gleaming like silk. His posture was casual but poised, one hand flipping through a book while the other rested lazily on the table—oh, that hand, the one you’d heard was hurt recently. He punched a guy for you.
You bit your lip, an involuntary whimper catching in your throat at the thought of his pain.
He hadn’t noticed you at first, but your dazed stare must have drawn him in. Slowly, his gaze lifted, those striking heterochromatic eyes locking onto yours. The air felt electric, your heart doing somersaults in your chest.
“...?” His expression was unreadable, but the subtle furrow of his brows suggested mild curiosity—or was that amusement? You couldn’t tell. Either way, it made your knees weak.
“You’re, um... in my seat,” you managed, the words stumbling over each other like a desperate escape. “Can I have it back, Mr. Solivan Brugmansia...? Also, I, uh, heard about your hand. Are you okay? I hope you’re not overdoing it. And, uh, your partner—”
You froze mid-ramble as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He looked surprised for a brief second—had you actually caught him off guard? But just as quickly, his expression smoothed into that same cold, enigmatic mask. It was like looking at a wall of ice with flames just barely flickering underneath.
“You... know my name?” he asked, his voice a soft drawl, laced with something you couldn’t quite place. Control, maybe? Suspicion? Whatever it was, it sent a shiver down your spine.
You exhaled, trying to suppress the ridiculous giddiness that threatened to bubble over. Stay cool, stay cool, you reminded yourself, even as your heartbeat rivaled a drumline.
“I know your name because Hyugo told me. He said you needed a partner in art class,” you began, keeping your tone casual, though you were certain your cheeks were giving you away. “And one time, when I went to the nurse, she mentioned feeling bad about a student named Solivan who’d been injured. That’s you, isn’t it?”
His eyes widened for the briefest moment, and then he averted them, his fingers tightening slightly on the edge of his book. Was that... a blush? You almost squealed internally, but you swallowed it down like a pro. He didn’t respond, clearly not used to being read so easily.
You leaned in slightly, your voice dropping to something soft and steady. “I was worried when she said that,” you admitted. “But hey, a student is a student. Don’t overthink it. Now... can I please have my seat back?”
For a second, you thought he might actually listen. His eyes flicked to yours, a rare vulnerability peeking through before it was swallowed up by his usual mask. But instead of moving, he arched an eyebrow, glanced under the desk, and then back at you.
“I don’t see your name on it,” he said flatly, his expression neutral as he turned back to his book like you weren’t standing there, brimming with barely-contained exasperation.
You blinked. Oh, hell no.
Your jaw clenched, and a vein in your forehead might’ve popped. What was this guy’s deal?! Soulmate or not, your seat was sacred. You puffed your cheeks in frustration, unintentionally looking like the most adorably indignant person in the room. Not that Sol noticed—he was already back to reading.
Unbelievable, you thought, your inner monologue screaming .
"So cute..." It was silent but you heard it/\.
Your whole system short-circuited. Did you just hear that? Did he really say that? If it were possible to combust on the spot, you'd already be a pile of ashes.
HE CALLED YOU CUTE?!!?
Your brain spiraled into chaos. Your inner monologue devolved into nothing but incomprehensible shrieks: "IDIOEYDOWEOHCOWEODHEHUFEWFE8FR80EG8YE!!!!" Words were officially out of service, leaving you stranded in a whirlpool of overwhelming emotions.
He was blushing too, barely visible but undeniably there. His cheeks held a faint dusting of pink, and his lips curled into a barely-there smile—just enough to devastate your heart completely. How could someone be so effortlessly adorable and infuriating at the same time? Someone save you from this man, please!
But wait—did he notice your cheeks puffing up in anger? Was that why he smiled? No, no, no. If being an angry little cutie made him smile, then you’d be doomed to accidentally fuel his amusement for eternity. Yet the thought of making him smile set off a whole new wave of screaming in your head. Wahhh, he's so cute! Why does he have to be like this?
You couldn’t decide if you were furious or lovesick. One thing was certain—you were absolutely doomed.
Sol tilted his head, a sly smirk playing at his lips. "Tell you what," he drawled, looking entirely too smug for his own good, "you get me a cup of coffee, and I'll give you your seat back."
You froze. Was he serious? Coffee? For a seat? You locked eyes with him, giving him your best unimpressed glare. So what?!?! You don’t just barter seating arrangements with caffeine!
But before you could even voice your protest, your brain betrayed you.
He’ll drink it... That means he’ll touch the cup... Oh no, oh no, OH NO.
Your inner monologue kicked into overdrive, spiraling faster than you could keep up. "AN EMPTY CUP HE TOUCHES WILL BE MY SHRINE!!! I’LL FRAME IT. PUT IT IN A GLASS CASE. AHHHH!!!" You were practically vibrating with joy.
And then it hit you. Wait. Wait. I know his favorite drink. Latte. You knew it because you may or may not have totally-not-suspiciously stalked him during lunch breaks, one time even spying on him while he hung out on the rooftop. It’s fine. It’s research. You’re not weird at all.
Your face lit up with an almost chipmunk-like grin, your mood swinging like a pendulum.
It’s okay. You’re buying him his favorite coffee. Totally normal. Not because you’re secretly losing your mind over his cute smirk or planning to preserve the cup for eternity or anything. Yep. Totally normal.
Sol's silence was maddening, and you were done with his smug attitude. Crossing your arms, you let out a huff, glaring down at him as he coolly flipped another page in his book, pretending you weren’t there.
"Do I look like a servant to you!? Just move already!" you snapped, trying to keep your frustration in check. He barely glanced at you, letting out a tired sigh before returning to his novel.
Oh, no. That was not the reaction you wanted. You wanted him to look at you—to really see you.
Fine. Two could play this game.
Without a second thought, you stomped around to his side, his gaze flickering up just slightly to follow your movements. He was clearly unimpressed. That was fine; you had something planned. Gripping the back of the chair he was sitting on, you gave it a firm pull, causing him to wobble precariously.
“Whoa, what the hell—” His voice cut off as you smirked, satisfied with his startled reaction.
Before he could reprimand you for your actions, you cut him off, effectively shocking him into silence. By settling yourself on top of his lap.
He froze instantly, his book forgotten, his breath catching in his throat. He swore to whatever god looking down on him right now to take him. His ears were burning red, his entire body tensed under you, and yet… he didn’t move to push you off.
You, on the other hand, acted as if nothing was amiss, casually pulling your bag onto the desk as if this was just another day. But inside, your thoughts were spiraling out of control. Your love-struck gaze lingered on him as you rested comfortably, your heart pounding in time with the storm of emotions threatening to spill out.
What are you, Solivan...? you wanted to ask, your fingers itching to reach out and touch him. Why does everything feel so good when you’re near me? Is this how you feel when I’m around? Why are you making me feel like this?
You bit back a grin, feigning indifference even as your cheeks warmed. Sitting on him like this… felt normal, almost natural. You weren’t even processing the fact that you were quite literally perched on the lap of the boy you’d been stalking—er, admiring—for weeks now.
Sol, on the other hand, looked like he was about to combust. His hands hovered awkwardly at his sides, unsure where to go. His mind raced with a mix of flustered panic and something darker—something possessive. His beloved was teasing him, and every ounce of self-control he had was being tested.
For now, he stayed silent, his face flushed and his heart hammering so loudly that he was sure you could hear it. But the way your smug expression softened with the barest hint of affection made his resolve waver.
You had no idea what you were doing to him.
Sol’s heartbeat quickened, a low curse escaping his lips as he tried—and failed—to compose himself. Meanwhile, you continued your work as if nothing had happened, utterly unfazed by the situation. Or at least, that’s what you wanted him to believe.
Oh, sweet, naive you—you couldn’t help yourself. With a small tilt of your head, you gave him a quick glance, the corners of your lips curving into a subtle, teasing smile.
It was driving him insane.
Inside, though, you were a chaotic mess. YOUR ASS IS ON HIS LAP?! HOLY SHET! You could barely hold back the urge to laugh or scream—or maybe both. What’s worse, you noticed out of the corner of your eye that a few students were starting to notice. Some rolled their eyes at the scene, while others moved away entirely. Sol must look like a total pervert with his flushed face and the way he seemed frozen in place.
His cheeks burned an even deeper red. The sheer embarrassment almost had him wishing for the ground to swallow him whole. But despite it all, his gaze lingered on you, his chest tightening at how adorably unbothered you looked, simply focusing on your work. He couldn’t see the lovestruck expression on your face, though—thank god. You were practically drooling as you scribbled away, overwhelmed by the proximity and the faint scent of his cologne.
Sol inhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down. It was no use fighting it. It’s my lucky day, he thought with a bitter sweetness. My pumpkin— No, no, that sounded weird. My beloved—better—is sitting on me. This is fine.
Gathering what was left of his composure, he hesitated before placing his arm next to yours on the desk, trying to act like this was completely normal. He stared down at the pages of his book, though none of the words made sense anymore. You had completely fried his brain.
You, meanwhile, decided to make yourself more comfortable. A subtle shift in your seat elicited a low groan from him, one that sent a shiver up your spine. It was clear you were doing this on purpose, and the realization made his jaw clench. You bit your lip to suppress a grin, your thoughts wandering to the way his lips looked. Soft, kissable, and so, so tempting.
Your heart thudded at the thought.
A minute passed, the tension slowly dissipating, but your heart was still racing. You could almost taste the calm, but it wasn't the peaceful kind. Not when Sol was so close.
He muttered something under his breath, and you perked up, curious. “Seldom we find,” he quoted. You tilted your head, watching him closely. Was he really interested? His voice sounded serious, focused.
You gave him space to read the rest of the stanza, allowing the silence to linger, but inside, you were buzzing.
"Half an idea in the Profoundest sonnet. Through all the flimsy things we see at once..."
You couldn’t help but lean in a little closer, your eyes flicking to him as he was so absorbed in his book. Could you feed him this poem, like feeding him words? No. You were supposed to focus, act normal. But it didn’t matter because he was so... charming. And it wasn’t just the poem—it was him. The way his voice softened when he read, the intensity in his eyes. God, you wanted to be the one to impress him.
His eyes didn’t stray from the page as he continued. “As easily as through as Naples bonnet—An Enigma by Edgar Allan Poe, huh? Not a bad choice."
A small smile tugged at your lips. Does he like poems too, or is it just him?
You could practically feel his presence wrapping around you, the air thickening as you tried to focus on the text. But the more you looked at him, the more the words blurred. You felt drawn to him, closer and closer...
"Do you know this poem has a puzzle?" he asked suddenly, pulling you from your thoughts.
"What...?" You blinked, unsure at first.
He smiled—God, that smile—and pointed at the first line, then the second. "Yes, a puzzle. This is one of the few works of his that I find quite charming..."
Charming? He's the one who's charming, you thought as you looked at him. You could barely keep your thoughts in check, wanting to record everything about him. This was... this was it. He was it.
You stared at the poem again, pretending to think. The truth was, you were just trying to keep yourself from throwing yourself into him completely. You needed a reason to stay calm. But his finger was still so close, his breath just slightly grazing your ear as he leaned in to guide you.
“Is it Sarah Anna Lewis?” you whispered, not wanting to say the wrong answer.
The shock on his face was enough to send a thrill down your spine, but he recovered quickly, sighing in defeat. “You got it right,” he whispered back, the words almost sinking into your skin.
Your heart fluttered wildly, as if you'd just won a game... his game.
You were... so happy. You couldn't hold back the soft giggle that bubbled up, your pride shining through. Your smile grew, unable to hide how pleased you were.
"I deserve another pat!" you exclaimed, pride spilling from you. "I got it right, yeah?"
Sol chuckled, but it was a hesitant sound—something almost shy. His hand brushed against your head again, giving you another gentle pat. And fuck, you couldn't help but close your eyes and savor the moment. You were addicted to the way he touched you. You’d never get enough.
"Just happy to see someone likes his poems, or at least deciphers them," he murmured.
I like you, you wanted to say. I like you so much...
But you couldn’t. Instead, your body betrayed you. As you leaned forward in excitement, you accidentally pressed your front against his chest, causing him to freeze.
Shit.
Before you could even process it, his hand shot out to grab your waist, holding you in place. Your heart skipped a beat as the room felt too small, as if everything around you was fading except for the pressure of your bodies being too close. You didn’t even care that it looked like two lovers in a moment.
Two lovers... just like in the novels.
You looked up, ready to joke about the situation, but his relaxed posture had vanished. Sol was tense, his face flushed a shade of red you had never seen before. He was literally trembling now, his eyes wide as dinner plates. His breath quickened, and before you knew it, he was leaning forward and gently—gently—placing you back down on the table.
"I’m sorry! I forgot I was sitting on you!" You scrambled to get off him, your hands shaky from the sudden shift in the situation.
But the truth was—you loved it.
You giggled, a deep, warm feeling spreading in your chest as you realized how easy it was to fluster him. But as soon as your feet hit the ground, you saw it—Sol was already up, clutching his book like it was his lifeline.
Without a word, he hurried to the exit, his pace like that of a speed walker, trying to escape from what you both just created.
And you, standing there with a blush on your face and your heart still racing, knew one thing for sure:
You trudged down the hall, your footsteps slow and reluctant. Sol was just ahead, but there was a slight distraction—Crowe. Damn it, you thought. You didn’t need this right now. Sol was slipping away, and you needed to be with him.
But then, you saw Brittney—her uniform a disaster. It was a mess of ketchup, mustard, and oil, a perfect blend of clumsy chaos. Jess was trying to help, but nothing seemed to work. What did happen? You were so relieved you hadn’t been involved in that mess. The last thing you wanted was to be caught up in that.
"Y/n! I was about to check up on you, how are you feeling?" Crowe’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you tried to keep your frustration in check.
"Good, better..." you muttered, though your mind was still on Sol. You couldn’t care less about the unfolding drama; it sounded ridiculous, but you had to admit—it was probably fun. Geo wasn’t around, thank God.
Then there was Brittney’s confused face, looking at you as you handed her the key to your locker.
“I have some fresh button-down shirts. You can wear one of them—or just keep it. I didn’t even get them properly, but I got both male and female sizes... You can have the female one. Just give the key to Crowe. I’m heading somewhere.”
She looked at you quizzically, but you didn’t have the patience. “Move, Ichabod...” You practically hissed the words, a tone of warning in your voice. You didn’t have time to explain further.
Crowe seemed taken aback, his expression faltering. “Where...?”
You didn’t answer directly. You just felt this desperate need to be elsewhere, away from everything, toward Sol.
And then you were gone.
Crowe stood there, confused, staring after you as you ran. “What am I doing wrong...?” he murmured to himself, probably wondering why you were so distant.
You didn’t care about that, though. Sol was what mattered.
And there he was, rushing toward the restroom. Your heart skipped a beat—Oh no. You couldn’t follow him there. That restroom? It was infamous. You'd heard the rumors. It wasn’t the place to go if you wanted to avoid strange giggling. But the pull to be close to him was strong, almost overwhelming.
You had no choice but to head to your next class. You could still feel the electricity in the air as you walked, a tight knot in your chest. You took your usual seat and pulled out your journal, your fingers grazing the pages. But then—Stop. You couldn’t focus. You couldn’t draw. You wanted to, but everything felt... alive in a different way.
You stepped into the classroom once again, your eyes scanning the room. There, at the back, was the tuft of black hair with striking green highlights—Solivan Brugmansia. It was him. But... was he always there? How had you missed him before? You’d never noticed his presence in the past. Was it always this obvious? Had you really been so blind to his existence?
The realization hit you like a wave. You couldn't believe you'd overlooked him all this time. Solivan... Sol... He was always there, sitting at the back, focused on his own world. You had never seen him, and yet now, it felt like you were noticing everything about him. How had you been so unaware?
Your heart raced. Thank gods you were here now. You could hardly keep your eyes off him. You moved to the seat directly in front of him, pulling the chair close and sitting down. Your gaze was fixed on him. There was a grace to the way he drew, a certain elegance in the movement of his hand. His pencil glided across the page effortlessly, each stroke precise, as if it was second nature. You couldn’t help but lean closer, your curiosity getting the better of you.
You had to know—what was he drawing? You craned your neck just enough to catch a glimpse of the paper.
you leaned over to get a closer look at his drawing, you suddenly caught Sol’s attention. His pencil froze mid-motion, and his wide, startled eyes snapped up to meet yours. His face turned an instant shade of red, and before you could even react, he quickly slammed the book shut with a soft thud. He glanced away, clearly flustered, his cheeks burning from the unexpected attention.
You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, but you quickly tried to smooth over the awkwardness. “I’m sorry, it’s me from the library... I hope we can get along,” you said, your voice softer than usual, almost a little nervous. The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and you immediately regretted not sounding more casual about it.
He kept his gaze down, still blushing furiously, and didn’t say anything for a moment. He just turned away slightly, his fingers gripping his book tighter as if trying to hide behind it. You could almost feel the heat radiating from his face.
Not wanting to make it more awkward, you hurried back to your seat, but you could feel his eyes following you. As you settled in, you risked a glance at him, only to find that he was already staring at you. Both of you yelped in surprise, quickly turning your heads in the opposite direction, your faces burning in sync. The air between you was thick with unspoken tension, neither of you daring to meet the other’s gaze for more than a split second. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach and the heat of embarrassment prickling your skin.
This... was going to be interesting.
This is rushed im sorrry! Its a small fic so! dw ill update it!
#the kid at the back vn#tkatb#tkatb sol#tkatb x reader#visual novel#sol x reader#solivan brugmansia#solvian x reader#the kid at the back sol#the kid at the back x reader#tkatb crowe#tkatb vn#solivan x reader#solivan
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PLEASE! I BEG THAT YOU WRITE AN MIGUEL O’HARA FICTION! IM BEGGING!! PLEASEE!!!! (Sorry if I come off harsh)
Ask and you shall receive!! A quick thing I wrote (not proofread), thanks for the ask <3
Touch
Miguel O'Hara x reader
(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist
summary: Miguel misbehaves. You teach him a lesson. part one maybe?? idk y'all let me know if u want a pt 2. (Part 2 is out!)
warnings: pwp!! light f-dom, angry (ish??) sex, grinding, slight m-sub, (m) begging. mostly just filth. I am soooo desperate for any character played by Oscar Isaac. 18+ Minors DNI
a/n: I apologise in advance, native Spanish speakers. Me and reverso tried our best.
wc: 1.4k
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A great crash from the workshop has you running from all the way in the kitchen, apron still on.
He looks tired, hunched over his desk. Great hulking shoulders hang, tense in the dim light of a single lamp.
"Miguel?" It's soft, in the metallic hum of lights. "Everything okay?"
He shifts, looking over his shoulder at you. "M'sorry for the noise mi sol, just tired."
"...maybe it's time to call it a night, baby."
He waves you off with a flick of the wrist. "Give me ten minutes, I'll come to bed."
"That's what you said half an hour ago, Miggy." It's under your breath but loud enough that his super senses pick it up.Your voice is fraught, frustrated - no doubt at the nights he'd spent away from you. Whether coming back late from tinkering in his workshop, or on the streets; he'd meet you fast asleep in bed, and wake up to an early morning rush. Either way, he seemed like a stranger in your own home; consumed with his work. It was taking its toll.
You pad back, returning to the kitchen in silence. You clean up the remnants of a dinner Miguel had picked at, sighing. You loved him, and you knew he loved you; but he lived in his own world sometimes. Sure, the world needed him; but what about you? After everything you had given each other, how could he discard you so easily?
It's only after a while Miguel realises the noises of you clearing up have long subsided, that he heads into the kitchen to investigate. It's meticulously clean, your apron hanging up on its peg by the door. On the counter, the remainder of his dinner boxed up in tupperware, with a post-it-note on the lid. 'For Miggy <;3' , it reads.
His heart aches as he walks towards your room. You're dressed in nothing but his t-shirt, knees drawn and curled up into yourself. He slides into bed, staring up at the ceiling.
"Mi vida?" He mumbles. "Mi vida, I know you're awake."
You respond with an unceremonious grunt, back still turned. You're mad at him, and he deserves it.
"I'm sorry." He says, listening to the rise and fall of your chest in the dark. He sits up. Sighing, he cradles your arm, tracing circles into the flesh. Gentle, and oh so soft. "I'm an idiot, you know that. I fucked up. Couldn't see how much you were hurting."
You stir, turning to face him. In the neon lights that stream into your room, his face falls. He brings a hesitant hand to cup at your cheek.
"Say something. Please." Imperciptably, he watches your eyes fall to his lips.
You kiss him, passionate and hot and angry. He can barely breathe when you envelope your plush lips around his, snaking your hand towards his back. You claw at his shirt, raking a hand into his hair. When you separate, it's obscene; a sliver of saliva still connecting his lips to yours. His scarlet eyes are low as he licks his lips; chasing your taste. You both sit up.
"You haven't touched me in weeks, Miguel." Your voice is dangerously low, hand wrapped around his neck.
He wraps strong hands around your waist, guiding you to straddle him. For once, he's grateful for the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt - thin around the apex of your pebbled nipples. He paws at your hips, hands trailing towards your bare thighs. Just as they come to rest towards their crook, you snatch his hands away.
"Let me make it up to you," He hisses at the contact, leaning into your touch. "Por favor, sólo una probadita, just a taste, my love."
"No touching." Dramatic, he protests, cursing in Spanish before you bring a thumb to his mouth to silence him.
"No. Touching."
Eyes lidded, looking up at you, it takes everything not to break; you fight the urge to kiss the tip of his nose and whisper praise into the crook of his neck. Instead, you coax your thumb into his mouth; as he swirls his tongue around it, like he would on your clit. Miguel savors it like the sweetest honey, grateful you'll even touch him considering how he's been acting.
He swells in his pants, hard as the crotch of his sweats graze your bare pussy. Beautiful tits pressed against his chest, you draw small circles with your waist against the seat of his crotch. Precum spills as his hips jump up to meet you, desperate for contact.
Immediately, you stop. With a pop, you pull your thumb from his mouth and Miguel moans at the loss.
"Mierda. Baby, please-"
"No. Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to use you to get off. You're gonna watch, if you're lucky. And then I'm…" You swirl your hips, causing him to groan. "... going to bed."
"¿Entiendes?" You croon, spiteful in the slow sway of your hips. "Do you understand, Miguel?"
"-f-fuck, ok, ok-" Desperately nodding, he grips the sheets by his side. Closing his eyes to steady himself, he slumps his head on your shoulder. God, he's trying so, so hard not to cum right there; turned on by the lull of your sweet voice. He likes it when you get angry and treat him like a toy - painfully hard at the way you light him on fire. Everything about you; your scent, the way you taste, the grip you have in his hair; turns his senses up to eleven.
You grind on his crotch, steadying yourself with your other hand on his shoulder. Plush lip tucked under your teeth, it takes all his willpower not to capture you in another kiss: hungry and consuming and overpowering. He can tell you're serious; everytime he grinds his crotch into yours, you will yourself to stop and tighten your grip.
"Miguel…" You warn, moaning softly into his ear. "I m-meant what I said…"
When his hips snap up the third time; you growl, frustrated. Both your hands move to his chest, pushing him down onto the mattress so he's on his back. He looks good like this; at your mercy and putty under your hands. You push up the lip of his shirt to expose his midsection and pull down his sweats. A happy trail snakes down to his neatly trimmed cock; its deliciously curved tip springing free. Precum covers his cock, so when you slide him between the lips of your pussy it glides like he was made for you. You bite down on your lip so hard, it almost bleeds.
With this new angle, you plant your hands by his head; grinding your clit onto his dick desperately. The slick sounds drive Miguel crazy, and when his hands fly to your waist to help you along, you don't move them.
"You're s-so pretty, mi vida… prettiest thing I've ever seen. Need it. Need you. Use me, please, hump my cock like I'm your toy, p-please, please…"
He knows your body better than you do. You're close, dangerously near the edge. With the way your thigh shakes and the spasms that slow your rhythm, he knows. You don't break eye contact with him under you, moaning as you slide on his cock. Desperate, you chase that sweet spot, electric when he angles your hips just so…
"M'gonna cum, fuck, Miggy-" You writhe desperately. He's close, too, shamelessly humping your pussy like a feral animal. He can taste it; white hot at the tip of his tongue. Finally, you cum: a leg shaking, biting orgasm that rips through you. You clench around nothing, but it's not enough for him. So, so close; and it's ripped away from him when you come down, in the aftermath.
Unceremoniously, you pant and roll off of him; spread-eagle atop the sheets. Miggy curses softly at his ruined orgasm - still rock hard. He's glad you feel good, but he knows he can make you feel better, broad hands pawing at your hips. You slap them off, and turn your back pointedly. The slope and curve of your ass taunts him.
"Fuck off, Miguel."
"Baby, I'm sor-"
"Fuck. Off."
Sighing, he takes the hint. Grabbing the pillow, he pads off to the sofa in your living room, adjusting his hard on. He'd give you your space, tonight, and begin to win you back tomorrow morning. He needs you, more than you'd ever know.
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#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara#spiderman 2099#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara smut#smut#spiderman 2099 x reader#light angst#cuz i can't help myself#kat_writes😼#miguel o hara x reader
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