#REUPLOADED

[astronyu]

man what the fuck

[writtenbyan-aries]

∶ i forgot to reupload this - enjoy again!

∶ Summary: Anon request - "Heey, i hope u're good and i hope u're accepting requests. I'm in love with ur works and i was wondering if u could write a very smutty piece about Sam and the reader being best friends (she's living with snc, bc they've been best friends all their lives). Maybe lately both Sam and the reader start noticing each other a lot more than before, like y/n is studying one night and Sam comes back from his run, they have a late night snack and it's all blushy and cute. But the upcoming days there's a lot of sexual tension between them until Sam just decides to put an end to their friendship to become more. I hope it's ok ♥️" 

∶ Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, unprotected sex, angst, hair pulling, choking, scratching, oral (f rec), fluff with filth 

∶ Word Count: 5.7k | Not Edited Yet 

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

You sat on the couch, lap top on your lap as you typed up your paper for school. It was quiet since Sam and Colby went out to meet someone about a possible exploration, so you put your headphones on to drown out the silence. 

You were too zoned out on getting this thing written that you completely missed the text Sam sent which stated that they would be home soon. 

After ten more minutes of typing, you close your lap top and stand up, letting out a scream as they laugh, "Honey, we're home." Colby says with a laugh and you sigh, "I see that." 

Sam smiles at you, and you hated when he did that, mainly because it made you fall more in love with him, and you couldn't do that.

You guys were best friends. 

Emphasis on the friend's part. You knew them, pretty much your whole life, and even though they haven't ever really said it, you knew that it would even be weird to talk about it, or so you thought. 

"How was the meeting thing?" You ask as they walk over towards you. Sam shrugs, "They're going to let us in, it's just a matter of finding out when exactly." He plops down onto the couch, "Get that paper done?" 

You sit back down, opening your computer back up, "Almost. I need like two more paragraphs." 

"What's it on again?" Colby asks turning your computer towards him, "Geoengineering technology? You are way too smart for your own good." 

You laugh and you can see Sam staring at you lovingly but you don't want to get your hopes up, "Yeah, sometimes I wonder if that's why I get headaches, too much knowledge up here." 

Colby laughs, "You know you don't have to go to school right? You can just fully commit to joining the xplr squad." 

You roll your eyes, "We've been friends for how many years? I've been a part of that squad before it was even thought of." 

Sam laughs as Colby nods while laughing, "You got me there. I'll give you that one." You smirk and look over at Sam, "Did you beat your time this morning? I wanted to ask but I had to leave before you got back." 

Sam sighs, "yes and no. I did but not by much, so.." 

"You'll get there. You have plenty of time." You smile at him and stand up, "I have an evening class tonight so I'll see you guys after five or so." You walk up to change, and right before you enter your room, Colby speaks, but it's not as quiet as he thinks, "You gotta tell her, bro."

You perk up, curious as to what they're talking about. 

"There's no way. No, Colby. I can't just spring that on her." Sam argues back and his voice goes quiet, making it hard for you to hear. 

You shake the thoughts out of your head and continue in to get dressed. You throw on a pair of jeans, sneakers, and one of the new hoodies from Sam's collection.

You grab your backpack and head back downstairs, "I'll see you guys later, do you want me to grab dinner on my way back?" 

"Yeah, that'll be good." Colby looks at you and nods, "Get whatever, you know what we get." You smile and nod, "Okay." 

Your eyes meet Sam's and he smiles at you. He loved seeing you in his own merch. You are his favorite model, but you didn't know that, for sure. 

Sam's eyes stay on you as he watches you search for your keys,"by the microwave, y/n." You look over and lo and behold they're there, "Thank you!" 

He yells out a quick, "Welcome!" as you leave the house. You make your way to your car, the thoughts running rabid through your mind, 

He's got a girlfriend and he's going to ask me to move out because he knows I like him and it's weird. 

You get in, sitting there for a moment before starting your car and driving to campus. 

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"It's not weird at all." Your friend Lacey says leaning back in her chair, "You've been friends for a while, and I always say the friendship stage is the most important thing before dating someone. And you my friend, have it perfect." 

You sigh, "But the way they were talking I just... I feel like he's going to tell me he is talking to someone and he knows I like him and- Gahhhh." You groan quietly and take a deep breath as she leans over, "I've witnessed you and Sam together in a room full of people, and I can tell you that he doesn't look at anybody the way he looks at you." 

"Really?" You ask, her words giving you a little bit of hope and she nods, "Really. And just a little f.y.i, best friends don't look at each other the way you and Sam do." 

You smile slightly as you think about what she said, "I just don't know how to tell him, like.. my anxiety about the friendship ending gets the best of me because I don't want to lose him, and I know him and Colby are a package deal, so I'd lose them both and it just-" 

"Take a breather. Why don't you talk to Colby about it? I'm sure he knows a lot of their end." 

You shake your head, "I couldn't do that. I feel like Sam is the one I need to talk to or not at all.. I just.. I just have to get over myself." 

As your professor starts talking, you keep thinking about everything, but little did you know, Sam and Colby weren't editing videos like you thought, they were having almost the same conversation you and Lacey were having. 

Growing up, the adults would pick on you and Sam for claiming to be just friends, and for a while there, it was really true, but as you got older, the truth was covered up.

Each video you have done with them, the fans have pointed out things about you and Sam. Some would be simple comments, basically what Lacey said, about how you look at each other.

Then others would be making a big deal out of you picking to run to Sam after something scared you during the investigation. Most of the time it's because Sam is right there, you'd run to Colby too if you needed to, but who are you kidding, Sam is your safe place so of course you'll run to him first. 

You never commented back to it, because that would just lead to more confusing things, so you just brush it off most of the time. You've never say anything to Sam about it because you know more than likely already seen them, and if he hasn't said anything, why should you? 

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You pull your phone out as you walk to your car, texting the group chat, I'm just going to go somewhere close, I have to study for a stupid test tomorrow and I don't want to be up all night. 

You toss your backpack into the passenger seat and get in, reading Colby's reply, that's fine 

Sam replies after, whatever is easiest for you.

You set your phone down and start driving, going where you need to go before heading home. 

You see someone walking towards your car which makes you kind of skeptical about getting out. You reach up to lock your doors until you see the big X on the front of it, letting out a sigh of relief. 

You push open your door and lean your head out, "Don't scare me like that." 

"Like what?" Sam asks as he pushes his hood down, giving you a smile. You get out and stand up, "Walking towards my car when it's almost dark out with your hood up." 

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. I just threw it on, I figured you'd need help carrying stuff in." He takes your backpack from your hands and slings it over his shoulder, "Anything else?"

You shake your head, "No I can get the rest. Thank you." 

He nods, smiling at you for a few seconds before cleaning his throat, "Colby is hungry so we should probably get back in there."

"Of course he is." You laugh, grabbing everything else before walking inside with Sam. You wanted to blurt it out on your way up to the house, but it was like you couldn't speak at all. 

"Finally." Colby teases as you walk in through the door that Sam held open for you, "Thanks." You mumble quietly, going back to normal volume when talking to Colby, "There was a line, I'm sorry." 

He laughs as he points to you, "Don't let it happened again." 

You salute him, "Yes sir, Colby sir." 

"Yeah that's right." He laughs, making you laugh and Sam smiles as he enjoys how comical you and Colby are. 

After dinner, you find yourself on the floor of the living room with your books spread out across the rug, "I'm so screwed." You mumble to yourself, "I should know this." 

"Have trouble there Einstein?" Sam asks as he walks over to the couch and sits down. You look up at him and nod, "This stupid surprise test, that actually isn't a stupid surprise because I knew about it, I just forgot.." you laugh slightly, "Will be the death of me." 

"Just relax, don't overdo it. When was the last time you took a break?" 

Him being so caring makes it harder, no one has ever cared about you the way Sam does, "dinner."

"Y/n that was two hours ago." Sam laughs slightly and sighs, "Take a break, go shower or something. Reset and come back." 

You push yourself off of the floor and sit, "Maybe you're the one who's too smart for their own good." You stand up, stretching and Sam can't help but notice your shirt ride up your stomach a little bit. 

He shakes his head as his voice is low, "If that was the case then.." he trails off as Colby comes down the steps, "you're having a party and didn't invite me?" 

"Yeah, you can help me study. We'll call it a study buddy party." You laugh as Colby stands right back up after sitting down, "No thanks. I'm out." 

You laugh and toss your pen down, "I'm going for a shower anyway. I need a break." You hike it up the stairs and when you look back, Sam looks away from you quickly.

You look away smiling and make your way to the bathroom. 

After a while of being upstairs, finding things to do to avoid going backstairs to your books, you sit down on your bed and lay back. 

You think about what you want to say to Sam, or more of what you need to say. 

You decide you're going to talk to him. Right now. You get up, and walk down the steps to find Colby sitting alone on the couch. 

"Where's Sam?" You look around as you walk over to Colby. He looks up at you, "Said he was going for a run." 

You look at the clock, "it's almost ten pm?" You furrow your brows, Sam usually never goes on late night runs like this, "Is he okay?" 

A smirk grows on Colby's face and you point, "No. no. Don't even." 

He holds his hands up, "My lips are sealed." You roll your eyes and look at your books, hoping to change the subject, "Can you just help me study for a little bit?" 

He sighs and sits up, "Fine." 

An hour goes by and Colby went up to work on some editing, leaving you alone in the kitchen as you worked on making yourself a snack. 

You whispered questions to yourself, answering them, then celebrating when you got the right answer. 

You hear the door open and Sam walks in, freezing slightly as he wasn't expecting you to be up, "Oh, hey." 

"Hey." You smile and turn back towards your book, "How was the run?" 

He shuts the door, shrugging as he sets his phone and headphones on the counter, "Not what I expected really." 

"You want to talk about it?" You go back to putting peanut butter on your banana slices and he walks over, looking over your shoulder as he reaches around and takes one, "i don't know how to talk about it." 

You nod slowly, "I know that feeling." 

He leans against the counter, "We've been friends for a while, y/n." 

You glance over at him, a small smile resting on your lips, "Longer than a while, Sam." He chuckles and nods, "a lot longer than a while." 

You set your knife down, licking your lips as you work your the courage to ask what you want to ask most. 

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Sam asks, reading you like an open book, "You can always talk to me. Or Colby. You know we both care so much about-"

"Do you have a girlfriend?" 

He's taken aback slightly, "What?" He laughs and shakes his head, "No, no. I don't." He looks up at you, crossing his arms, "What makes you think that I have a girlfriend?" 

You turn towards him slightly, "When I went up to get ready before my class.. I heard Colby tell you that you have to tell her, and I didn't.." you trail off, sighing as you close your eyes, "Nevermind." 

Sam stares at you for a few seconds, "Oh.." he chuckles, "That.. yeah no.. that was about a girl who I've been talking to.." he follows up quickly, "..but not in the way you think." 

You nod, your heart sinking slightly, "Ah, I see." 

"Yeah, I have to tell her that I'm not interested in her." Sam tilts his head towards you, "She hasn't gotten the hint yet, and I don't want to be douche about it." 

"Yeah, no of course not." You smirk slightly, "You're only mean to me." He laughs, "Well yeah, but you know what they say.." He sighs and leans over, taking another banana slice, "if a boy picks on a girl?" 

You try to fight a smile, but you fail so you look down, "I've heard that saying before." 

"Then you can probably put two and two together." He smiles at you as you look up at him, "I'm going to bed, we have to meet someone in the morning about the exploration." 

"Maybe don't be up so late."

"Could say the same to you." He winks and jogs up the steps, leaving you to ask yourself, does Sam like me back?

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Over the next few days, the energy between you and Sam was different. 

You felt drawn to him. 

And he felt drawn to you. 

You looked at him with so much love, and lust. You needed Sam, now. It felt like you were aching for him, but after the kinda, yet not-so cryptic conversation you had with him the one night, you just weren't sure what was in store for you and Sam. 

You've been flirty, almost feeling like you and Sam were closer. You would pass each other and his hand would land somewhere on your body, usually your lower back, and it would send a shock up your spine. 

"Morning." You say walking down the steps, "How'd your investigation go?" 

"Sam, why don't you show her the footage?" Colby says nudging Sam's arm. He takes a deep breath, "I don't think.." 

"You're coming back with us tomorrow night. That's all I'm saying." Colby holds his hands up, shaking his head and you look at Sam, pointing to Colby, "What's he talking about?" 

He licks his lips and sighs with a smirk, "Come on. I'll show you." You nod, following him back up the stairs, "Did it go good?" 

You follow him into his room and sit on his bed as he sits in the chair infront of his computer, "It was a loving spirit, basically, so yeah, it went good." 

You lean forward slightly, eyes on Sam as he clicks on things. A shy smile grows on his face, "I know you're not looking at the computer." 

He slowly turns his head towards you and you keep your eyes on him, "So what if I wasn't?" He cocks his jaw to the right as he smirks, "Never said it was a bad thing." He nods towards the computer, "Come here." 

You stand up, moving over to stand next to him. You press your hand on the desk and lean down slightly, watching as he presses play. 

You can tell he's watching you, but he's waiting for your reaction. 

"Can you repeat that for us please?" Sam asks on the video. After a few moments, you hear your name, clear as day and it wasn't from either one of the guys, "What the hell?" 

You look at Sam and he holds his hand up, "Just wait." 

You look back at the screen, "Something moved in that doorway." You lay your finger on the screen and Sam leans forward, "What? No way." 

"Rewind it... yeah.. there stop." You glance at Sam and nod towards the screen, "Now watch." He presses play, eyes on the screen and he leans back, eyes wide, "How did we miss that?" 

You laugh slightly, "I don't know."

He watches in shock, "Why don't you ever come with us anymore?" 

You hoped this question wouldn't ever be asked. 

"School, you know that Sam." You look at him quickly before reaching for the mouse to hit play, but he stops you, "That's the fake, I don't want to talk about it reason. Tell me the real reason." 

You stand up, letting out a quiet sigh, "I just didn't want to get in the way." He tilts his head, "In the way of what?" 

You shrug, unsure of what to say. 

"Is it the comments? About us, and what people think we are?" Sam crosses his arms and looks up at you. You laugh nervously, giving him a nod, "I guess so." 

He chews on his lip, "Uh huh." He smirks and leans forward, "Well they'll have a hay day with this." He clicks play and pulls you to sit on his thigh. 

You lean forward, listening to Colby speak on the video, "What does y/n have to do with this?" 

".. Sam .. it's time .." 

You furrow your brows, continuing to listen to the video, 

"Sam.. Sam.." you see Colby grab Sam's arm and Sam looks terrified, "Colby.." 

"Sam.. she's a good spirit.. she's made it known she doesn't want to hurt anyone." Colby assures him, "you think she's telling you that you need to tell her?" 

"Tell who what?" Sam shoots back and you look back at him. He's resting his chin on the palm of his hand and you look back at the screen. 

"Y/n.. tell y/n that you like her more than you're letting on, man." Colby's voice is low, almost like they tried to keep it a secret but forgot the camera was rolling? 

"Yeah, yeah. You're probably right, Colby.. I just.. how do they know that?" Sam is confused, "I just don't.. oh my god.."

"... together..." 

"Should y/n and Sam be together?" Colby asks, "If you say yes, make that little light go off for us." Instant light and Sam pauses the video, "Lady Zeroni was known as a match maker back in her day but it turned deadly when a man who wasn't happy with the person she chose for him came back and went on a total murderous rampage throughout the entire house." 

You lean back slightly, "So what you're saying is..." you laugh slightly and rest your hand on the top of his chair, "A ghostly matchmaker is saying we should.. what? Be together?" 

Sam stares up at you, "The whole time, I kept thinking about you. Here alone. Like we don't know what we deal with sometimes and when your name is said, my immediate thought was you in danger and I just.." 

You listen as he trails off, "When I asked about you having a girlfriend, I was scared you were going to ask me to move out because of how I feel about you." 

"Wait.. how do you feel about me?" He tilts his head and tries not to smile and you laugh, putting your hand over his face, "Shut up." 

He takes your hand off his face and holds it gently in yours, playing with the ring that's on your middle finger, "I'm scared as hell to want you.." his voice is quiet, "But here I am.." he looks up at you, "..wanting you anyway." 

You look up at him quickly and your eyes meet his, "I know that feeling, too." He smirks slightly, letting out a breath of air, "We've been friends for a wh-" he stops himself, smiling as he corrects his words, "We've been friends for our whole lives basically, and I just.." 

"Don't want to ruin the friendship?" 

He nods, "Exactly." 

You nod, "Since we're being honest.. I don't know when it happened, but all I know is that you're the first person I run to when I'm scared, happy, sad, anything." You tilt your head, "I mean, when we're doing a video, I run to Colby too, but mainly because he's close, but everything is just.. it's just very different with you." 

"You look at me way different than you look at Colby, I know that for a fact. Actually, Colby was the one who brought it to my attention and I honestly tried pushing it off because I wasn't sure if it was too weird.. like we've known each other for so, so long and we've reached that max level of comfortability with each other... it's just.." 

"It's a real amazing thing, Sam. Not many people, or should I say, many people would kill to have the type of relationship we have." You run your hand through his hair, and he closes his eyes, "Lacey told me that best friends don't look at each other the way we do." 

His eyes flutter open and he smiles, "Colby told me the same thing." 

"And I read the comments on our videos, and I just didn't want you guys to stop getting views or have your name being drug through the mud because we were being too touchy with each other." 

He pulls you closer, "Your safety is my number one priority during those and if me keeping an arm around you while we're in some sketchy ass haunted house makes you feel secure, then I'm going to do it." 

You smile, laying a hand on his chest, "I may have overthought a lot of it." 

He nods, "Oh me too, one hundred percent." 

He runs his bottom lip under his teeth, "I've been waiting years to do this." He slides his hand up, pulling you in so he can press his lips gently to yours. 

Your hand moves to his cheek as you deepen the kiss and he pulls back, scanning over your face as a smile forms on his lips, "Now that I think about it, we'd make a great couple." 

You tilt your head and scrunch up your nose, "You think so?" He pulls you in to kiss you, mumbling against your lips, "Know so." 

You hum against his, "You know what else?" 

"Hmm?" He tilts his head back to rest against his chair, looking up at you as he waits for you to tell him. 

You stand up, his hands still on your hips, "We know everything but one thing about each other."

He raises an eyebrow, "Oh yeah? What's that?" 

You slide your hands to his, "Come on." He stands up, following you over to his bed, instantly picking up what you're laying down for him, "Mm. Are you sure?" 

You turn around, slipping off your sweatshirt, "You have no idea how long I've thought about getting you into bed, Golbach." 

He chuckles as he slips his own shirt off, "I think I have an idea, y/l/n." His hands lay on your hips and he gently sits you down on the bed. 

You lay back as his body moves over top of yours, his hips resting perfectly between your knees. It's like you were made for each other. 

"Tell me what you want, babe." Sam's voice is low as he moves to kiss down your neck, "I'm all yours now." 

You felt a wave of calmness wash over you before you take his hand and slide it to your throat, "Prove it." 

He smirks with a slight hesitation before slowly tightening his grip, "As you wish." His lips crash into yours, kissing every once of skin he can as he makes his way down to the top of your sweats. 

He bites your waist band, looking up at you as he lets them snap against your skin with a smirk following the release, "Can I take these off?" 

"You don't have to ask." You go to sit up and take them off, but he presses a hand flat to your chest, "Let me, do it baby." 

You bite your lip, nodding as you lay back down. 

His hands slide up your clothed thighs, squeezing them before slipping his fingers between the band and your skin, "I want to take my time with this." 

You needed him now, but you understood. 

"Okay, baby." You whisper and smile down at him, lifting your hips as he tugs your sweats down. His lips part slightly, leaning little open kisses up your legs.

He moves back up, hovering over you he grinds against you, "You have no idea how many times I've thought about you.." he leans down and kisses you, "Thought about you." 

You smile, "I relate."

He kisses down your neck, "When you came down wearing one of my hoodies, I wanted to make you so late for class." 

"Would have been worth it." 

He smiles and brushes hair from your face, "Fuck, why'd we wait so long?" You shrug, "Good things take time, Sam." 

He smiles and looks from your lips to your eyes before leaning down to kiss you. He rolls over and you follow, straddling him as your lips reconnect with his. You grind down on him, low moans escaping the seal of your lips on one another.

"Please." You whimper out, "I need you." 

Sam grips your neck, squeezing slowly, "Say it again." 

Your lips form into a smile, and you whimper. "I need you."

He sits up, wrapping his arm around your back, "You're so fucking beautiful." His lips press to yours, moving slowly as he uses his arm to make your body move. 

You wrap your arm around his neck and grind down, moaning his name quietly. He leans back, "lay down for me." 

You move and lay on your back, watching as Sam strips the rest of his clothes off, "Take them off for me." He nods towards your panties that are still on your body and you comply by taking them off and kicking them off the bed. 

"You know, I've also thought about being between those legs.." he gets on his knees, moving towards the middle of the bed by your feet, "multiple times actually.. I was so close to pulling you into the bathroom at that party we went to last week and getting on my knees for you.." his eyes move up your naked body with a smirk, "You looked so fucking good." 

Your heart skips a beat, remembering that, even in your drunken state at the time, Sam wouldn't stop looking at you. 

"You should have." You whisper watching as he kisses up your legs, alternating sides with each kiss, "I wouldn't have minded." 

"Trust me, the next party we go to, I'll make it happen." He winks before dipping his head down and taking your clit between his lips. You let out a gasp, laying a hand on the back of his head, "Sam!" 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling slightly as you arch your back, "Oh god, yes." You moan as you grind your hips against his face, whining out how good it feels. 

His tongue sinks into you and you pull his hair, causing him to groan against you. Your other hand searches for something else to grab for leverage. 

His hand throws your leg over his shoulder and your heel instantly digs in to pull him closer, "Fuck, Sam. Sam. I'm so close."

His fingertips dig into your skin, pinning you down as his tongue works its magic inside of you. 

Your eyes roll back and your back lifts up off the bed as he brings you to orgasm, "Shit shit shit." You moan out, "Fuck." 

He pulls away, immediately coming up to kiss you. His cock rubs against your pussy and you reach down, rubbing it up and down your soaked slit a few times before he pushes his hips forward, his cock slipping inside of you for the very first time. 

You both moan, clinging to each other in anyway you can. 

He slowly pulls out and slowly slides back in, taking in the feeling of you, "Fuck, you feel so good." 

"S-Sam.." you press your chest to his, "Fuck me. Please." 

He smirks and tilts his head, watching your face twist with the best pleasure you've ever received, "Fuck, yes." Your nails dig and drag up his back, "I love you." 

Sam leans up, stopping his thrusts as he looks at you. Your face goes shocked, "I-I don't know where that ca-" 

"He smiles and leans down to kiss you, "I love you more than words can say." 

"Then show me." You say quickly before you press your lips to his, "and you don't have to be gentle with me anymore, Sam." 

He smirks and shakes his head, "You're fucking perfect." His lips crash into yours and he pushes his hips all the way into you, moaning lowly against you. 

He slides a hand down your body and hooks his arm under your knee. He pulls it up and the new angle causes you to gasp, "Fuck."

He starts out thrusting slow, but quickly builds up to a faster, punishing pace. He tilts his head back, moaning before looking down at you. 

He sits up slightly and reaches his hand down to cup your chin. His thumb slides across your bottom lip and you part them instantly. 

He watches as you take his thumb between your lips, hallowing out your cheeks as you suck. He groans lowly, "I'm never going to get tired of you in this position."

You smile, teeth gently biting down on his thumb and he takes a sharp breath, "Oh yeah. Never getting tired of you in general." 

He pulls his hand away and lays beside you. You automatically roll over, straddling him to ride him. You tilt your head back with a moan as his cock slides back inside of you. 

His hands immediately grip your hips and help guide you up and down, "Fuck." His eyes are glued to his cock disappearing inside of you, "Doing so good, baby." 

Your eyes light up at the praise and he raises his eyebrows, "Like a little praise do we?" He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, "You're full of surprises aren't you?" 

"You have no idea, Mr. Golbach." 

He sits up slightly, "But I will." 

He bends his legs up and your hands press to his knees as you bounce up and down, "Gonna cum." You whimper out as you slide all the way down and roll your hips, cursing out as you cum.

Sam is in awe of you, his eyes are moving all over your face, your body, "That's it, baby. Good girl." 

Your eyes snap open and you lean down, kissing him as you move your hips up and down, "Only for you." 

"Say.. say it again." He drags his fingers up your leg, "Please." 

"A good girl, but only for you." 

He flips you so you're back to being on your back and he's on top, thrusting into you, "Fucking right." 

You smile, moaning out as you wrap your legs around his waist, "Fuck, fuck yes." 

"M'so close." He mumbles into your neck, "Fuck. You're so good to me." 

His thrusts slow down and turn kinda sloppy as he gets ready to break the grasp of your legs locked around him. 

He pulls out to cum on your stomach and you lay there breathing heavy. He lays beside you, kissing your shoulder for a few seconds before standing up to grab you something to wipe off with. 

He comes back, hanging you a towel with a smile. You take it from him and smirk, "What?" 

"You're my girlfriend." He smiles and bites his lip, quietly celebrating. You tilt your head, "And you're my boyfriend." You smile at him and wipe up, tossing the towel on the floor before being met with a Sam laying his body over yours, "Should we go break the news to Colby?" 

You sigh, "I can picture his celebration dance already." 

Sam peppers kisses all over your face, getting you to laugh, "You're so cheesy." You turn your head, pecking his lips, "One of my favorite things about you."

He smiles and tucks your hair behind your ear, "You.. are my favorite thing about me." 

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

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[soluversworld]

Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur!- Solivan brugmansia x Yan!G.N Reader!

Words:10004

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.

You always knew something was off within the labyrinth of your mind, an ache that whispered solitude in every corner. Perhaps it was loneliness, so profound that you yearned for someone to notice you—anything to shift the weight of your gaze from them to you. Some flicker of curiosity, a moment that lingered in the eyes of another.

Love? No, it wasn’t something you believed you deserved. That thought had long been etched into your consciousness like a brand. But if, by some twist of fate, someone were to fall for you, you’d ensnare them with relentless support until they admitted it, an inexplicable, almost desperate logic born from the shadowed corners of your heart.

The end of the first semester brought the storm. It wasn’t just another rough day; it was the day you became a target for the school’s cruelest crew. Fists flew, words cut, and everything seemed to blend into one terrifying blur until Crowe stepped in, his eyes dark with determination.

“Thank goodness you’re unharmed,” he gasped, breathing heavily, each word a raw mix of relief and pain.

“You’re worried about me? Look at you, you’re the one who’s hurt!” Your voice quivered, the disbelief clashing with gratitude.

He stood there, battle-worn and steady, blood trickling from a split lip, the bruises stark against his pale skin. Those who had cornered you were finally satisfied, leaving with the empty laughter of the bored and cruel. Crowe looked at you and shrugged, the glint in his eyes softening.

“As long as you’re safe, this doesn’t matter.”

A warmth spread through your chest, alien and consuming. Someone cared. Someone defended you, unyielding in their resolve.

“What’s your name, crazy prince?”

He managed a tired, almost mischievous smile. “Jericho. Jericho Ichabod. But just call me Crowe.”

You exhaled a shaky breath. “Nice to meet you, Crowe. Call me Y/N.”

That moment in the clinic, under the unforgiving fluorescent lights and the sterile scent of antiseptic, became the silent contract that bonded you two. You shared conversations, silent glances, and a strange understanding that made the world seem a little less harsh. For a while, you even harbored a crush, tender and tentative.

But then it hit you, as sudden as that fateful day. Crowe would have done the same for anyone—he was simply good. He was kind. The realization struck with an ache so deep it nearly broke you. Love, you learned, was an unrequited script in your story. But you respected him too much to let it taint what was there.

You laughed at the absurdity of your own heart, wondering how it had come to this: delusional, hopeful, but still grateful for the fleeting feeling of being someone’s concern.

There was always that gnawing thought, like a shadow, lurking at the back of your mind. You tried to shake it off, but it whispered relentlessly: There’s something wrong with the way you love. Maybe it was the way you sought attention, not in small doses but in that raw, hungry kind of way. The way you craved someone’s gaze not as a fleeting glance but as an unwavering fixation.

Too much, you thought, turning the phrase over and over like a bitter pill on your tongue. You wanted to be loved so desperately that it bordered on obsession, a gnawing, insatiable need. It wasn’t the soft, gentle kind of love you read about or saw in movies—it was something darker, almost suffocating. It made your chest tighten with both longing and dread.

You swallowed hard, a dry laugh slipping past your lips as the thought settled in: That’s just you, isn’t it? Creepy Y/N, always wanting more, always needing to be consumed by the flame of someone’s attention. A shiver traced down your spine, and you hugged your arms close, seeking comfort in the cold truth.

Now, you’ve perfected the act. You’ve slipped so far into delusion that reality feels like it’s cracking at the edges, and your mind might not make it back intact. But you only have one task: work relentlessly and pay off the debt, save the farm that’s been the lifeblood of your family.

Your obsession with love, you remind yourself, is nothing but a sickness—a distraction, unhealthy and unneeded. Focus, you think. Study. Keep your head down. Your father believes in you, doesn’t he? He trusts you with this responsibility. But would anyone love a mess like you anyway? The question loops bitterly in your mind, self-loathing taking hold before you even have the chance.

“Pathetic, isn’t it?” You tell yourself.

Something felt off for a few weeks now, like an odd tension building in the corners of your life. It was… something. It wasn’t anything you could pinpoint, but you couldn’t shake the feeling.

A pair of eyes, always there, always watching. At first, it was subtle—just a flicker of awareness when you turned a corner or sat down. But it was more than that. It was almost a presence, an invisible force that seemed to follow your every move. It wasn’t a simple glance. No, it was far more intense, almost stalking.

And yet, a strange part of you… liked it. It sent a thrill through you, a kind of adrenaline rush you couldn’t explain. You’d find yourself sitting in class, pretending to study, but the sensation of being watched made your heart race. It wasn’t discomfort—it was excitement, a twisted thrill, something you couldn’t shake.

It wasn’t just at University. No, it followed you home too. As you entered your room, you couldn’t help but feel the familiar weight of someone’s gaze on you, lingering in the dark corners, watching through the crack in your door. Your mind spun with a chaotic mix of fear and anticipation. Who was it? Why were they watching you?

There was no reason for it—at least, none you could rationalize. And yet, you found yourself… hoping to meet them. Wanting to meet them. A part of you longed to finally see the one who’d been following you in the shadows. Because somehow, you knew they were close. You knew they were waiting for the right moment to step out from the

The next morning, something was off. The usual routine of brushing off your paranoia seemed heavier, more tangible. Your bedroom window, which you always locked at night, was ajar. Not just unlocked—it had slid open slightly, exposing a crack wide enough to send shivers down your spine. You tried to push it closed, but the latch was broken, the mechanism jammed beyond repair. Had it always been like this?

You stared at it for a moment, the realization sinking in: someone could have come in. Someone might have been inside.

You tried to shake it off, but as the day went on, more pieces fell into place. A gnawing sense of violation crept up your spine when you went to grab your laundry and noticed… something was missing. Not just something—specific clothes. Shirts you’d worn recently, soft hoodies you curled up in, a pair of socks that didn’t match but had sentimental value. Gone.

Your chest tightened, panic flooding your veins, but it wasn’t just fear. A part of you—some sick, pathetic part—felt thrilled. Someone is watching me.

The thought settled in, heavy and dark, but the sharp edges of logic began to dull. Who would stalk you? You’re not even pretty. You weren’t special. Not worth the effort. And yet, here you were, clothes missing, your window breached, the unmistakable weight of someone’s gaze following you through every step of your day.

“Normal people would think this isn’t fine,” you muttered aloud to yourself, trying to anchor yourself in rationality. This isn’t fine. This isn’t okay.

But the words fell flat. Somewhere in your mind, reality started to bend. Yes, it was wrong—stalking was wrong. It was invasive, dangerous, terrifying. And yet, the pounding in your chest wasn’t just fear. It was curiosity. It was longing.

The thought twisted in your mind, dark and intrusive: What kind of person would go this far just for me? They must care. They must want to know you in a way no one else ever had. What do they see when they watch? What do they think about?

You couldn’t help yourself. The idea of being desired so intensely that someone would break into your life, leave pieces of themselves hidden in the cracks of your existence—it sent a thrill through you. Wrong. So wrong. But intoxicating.

You paced your room that evening, staring at the broken latch on the window. The moonlight spilled across the floor in sharp lines, almost like it was pointing at the scene of the crime. A part of you wondered if they were watching now. Standing somewhere in the dark, just out of reach, their breath fogging up the glass.

Who even are you? Why me?

The questions spun in your mind, each one pulling you deeper into a strange obsession of your own. You should be scared. You should be scared. But instead, you were intrigued. Drawn in. You wanted to know this person, to see the face that lingered in the shadows.

You sat down at your desk, your reflection catching in the window’s glass. “This isn’t normal,” you said softly, your voice cracking slightly. “I shouldn’t feel like this. I shouldn’t want this.”

But you did. You couldn’t deny it any longer. The thought of someone dedicating their time, their energy, their every waking moment to you—it filled a hole you didn’t know existed. You craved that kind of devotion, twisted as it was.

You caught yourself smiling, a wry, self-deprecating grin. “God, I’m a mess,” you whispered. You leaned back in your chair, staring at the ceiling. Why do I feel this way?

The truth settled in, stark and undeniable: you’d never felt wanted before. Not like this. And now, even if it was wrong, even if it was dangerous, you couldn’t help but feel… excited. Like something in your life was finally happening, shaking you out of the monotony of existence.

You wanted to meet them. To see them. To understand the face behind the gaze that followed you everywhere you went. You told yourself it wasn’t love—not yet. But it was something. Something raw and electric, and you weren’t sure you could resist it.

Your fixation deepened, evolving from a vague thrill to deliberate action. The missing items didn’t alarm you anymore—they exhilarated you. At first, it was small things: a pen left behind on a desk or the bench outside class. Accidental, you told yourself. But you knew better. You weren’t careless. You’d started leaving things on purpose, wondering, hoping, knowing they would take them.

And they did.

The pen was gone when you returned, replaced by nothing but the faintest hint of satisfaction in your chest. You tested it again, leaving behind a notebook with a stray doodle inside—gone by the next day. It became a game. A secret dance between you and this unknown figure lurking in your shadow.

The knowledge that someone wanted these pieces of you made your heart race. Pathetic, you thought, but the warmth in your chest told a different story. You were addicted to the idea, to them. And soon, you weren’t just leaving things behind. You were creating a world where they could exist freely.

You didn’t fix the window. Why would you? You liked to imagine them climbing through it, their hands brushing against the sill, their breath in your room. Fixing it would shut them out, make their life harder. You couldn’t do that—not to them. You told yourself it wasn’t because you wanted them inside, because you were inviting them in. No, it was just… considerate. Thoughtful.

The laugh that bubbled up from your throat at the thought startled you. Soft, at first, then louder. “I’m losing it,” you murmured, but the giggles didn’t stop. They spilled out of you, an almost giddy sound as you turned the idea over and over in your head.

If they were coming in, why not make it easier for both of you? Why not see them, finally see them?

That night, you slipped a tiny camera into the corner of your room, hidden carefully in the folds of an old, dusty bookend. It was subtle, unassuming—nothing that would stand out to anyone who didn’t know it was there.

The thrill of it sent a shiver down your spine. Soon, you’d have answers. Soon, you’d see their face, their expressions, their intent. Ah, what would they look like? You’d imagined it before, of course—soft features, a piercing gaze, maybe even a shy smile. Someone who would look at you with the intensity that had kept you up at night, that had followed you for weeks.

You sat in the middle of your room that night, staring at the blinking light on the camera, anticipation coiling in your stomach. “You’ll come, won’t you?” you whispered to no one. The silence answered back, but you weren’t disheartened. You knew they’d come.

You could feel the laughter building up in your chest again, giddy and uncontrollable. The corners of your lips curled upward as you muttered, “I’m going to see you. Heheh… Soon.” The giggle turned into full-blown laughter, sharp and manic as it filled the room.

This wasn’t normal. It wasn’t healthy. But God, it was intoxicating.

The thought of finally meeting them, of knowing them, sent your thoughts spiraling. Your hands trembled as you checked the camera one last time before heading to bed. It was all set. Everything was perfect. All that was left was to wait.

As you lay in bed, staring at the broken window, your mind swirled with fantasies of what was to come. Maybe they’d speak to you, confess their reasons for watching, for taking your things. Maybe they’d admit their feelings—feelings you were sure existed, even if you couldn’t yet see them.

And if they didn’t? Well, you’d find out soon enough.

“Come on,” you whispered to the empty room, your voice trembling with a mixture of excitement and desperation. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

And with that, you closed your eyes, letting the thrill of anticipation lull you into restless sleep.

You wake up, drowsy and groggy, blinking as you register the faint glow of your camera’s recording light. Your heart skips—not from fear but from a jittery excitement. Did it catch something? Your hands move faster than your thoughts, fumbling to pull up the footage.

Last night had been a blur. You’d tried so hard to stay awake, but the meal you’d eaten earlier had lulled you into a deep, undisturbed sleep. As you scroll through the recording, skipping the mundane moments of you tossing and turning, the feed jumps to him.

The man.

His hair, black with vivid green streaks, is loose, falling in soft waves around his face. The mask he wears obscures most of his features, but his eyes—crimson red on the outer ring with fiery orange at their centers—gleam, focused solely on you. His attire is dark and layered: a black t-shirt over a green-striped long-sleeve, necklaces clinking softly with each of his movements. You even catch a glint of the metallic piercings decorating his ears, the upside-down cross swaying slightly as he leans closer.

And then, he speaks.

“Finally found you, pumpkin,” his voice is soft, smooth, almost reverent. You freeze, your pulse hammering against your ribs. Pumpkin?

“I’m sorry about the window,” he continues, running gloved fingers along the edge of your desk. “But it’s a good thing you didn’t fix it, still.” His tone is teasing, like he’s scolding and praising you all at once.

Your hands hover over the keyboard as he approaches your sleeping form on the screen. He kneels beside you, brushing back a strand of hair from your face with deliberate care. “Hyugo’s pills do work,” he murmurs to himself, chuckling faintly. “They make you sleep so peacefully. I can finally see you at night…”

Then, he leans down. His masked face inches closer to your cheek. You watch, your breath caught, as he plants the softest kiss on your skin.

That explains it. The faint pressure you’d felt in your sleep—the fleeting warmth. Your hand instinctively touches the spot on your cheek, even now, feeling its ghost.

Yet instead of terror, instead of the dread that should’ve consumed you, your heart flutters. A warmth blooms in your chest, spreading, suffocating. You press your clasped hands to your lips, trembling not in fear, but in something else entirely.

The stalker. The man. He…he likes you? Watches you every night, praises you even in your most unguarded moments? It’s wrong. It’s so obviously wrong. The rational part of your mind screams at you to call for help, to fix the window, to run far away.

But instead, you giggle.

The sound bubbles out of you uncontrollably, and you quickly clamp a hand over your mouth. You know this isn’t normal. You know something is terribly broken inside of you. But that knowledge doesn’t stop the twisted elation coursing through your veins.

He’s here. He sees you. He wants you.

You rewind the footage, watching it again. This time, you focus on his words, on the reverent way he speaks to your unconscious self. You note the details: the shine of his hair, the small buckle on his collar-like choker, the way his spider-bite piercings catch the moonlight when he tilts his head. He’s beautiful, like something plucked out of your dreams—or maybe your nightmares.

And now, he’s real.

Your hands shake as you stop the playback, staring blankly at the paused image of him by your bedside. The mask hides so much, but his eyes—they burn into you, even through the screen. You imagine what it would be like to see him without it, to hear his voice unfiltered, to—

You slap your cheeks, shaking your head. Focus, Y/N.

But the truth clings to you, suffocating and intoxicating all at once. You know he’s a stalker. You know this situation is dangerous. Yet the thought of fixing the window, of locking him out for good, feels unbearable. The idea of never seeing him again—of never hearing his voice, his praises—sends a pang of despair through you.

“Delusional,” you whisper to yourself, laughing softly. You curl into yourself, gripping the camera tightly. “I’m so delusional.”

But even as you say it, even as you acknowledge the depths of your spiraling thoughts, you can’t stop the lovesick smile creeping across your face.

You couldn’t shake the image of him—the stalker who had taken such a twisted interest in you. His voice, his praise, the way he watched you with that obsessive focus—it haunted your waking thoughts and danced through your dreams.

You needed to know more about him.

At first, you tried to find clues, anything that could lead you to his identity. You scoured your campus, paying close attention to anyone with black and green-streaked hair, those fiery orange-crimson eyes, or piercings that matched the ones you’d seen on the footage. But nothing. He was a ghost, blending seamlessly into the crowd or watching from somewhere beyond your grasp.

Still, you didn’t give up. Each day, you upped your game. You adjusted your routine to appear natural, but always left subtle traces behind—a scarf forgotten on a bench, a pen dropped intentionally in class. When you circled back, the items were always gone, confirming he was following you even during the day. Good, you thought with a lovesick smile.

Then there was the matter of the food.

You began preparing two batches of every meal—one real and one fake. The fake was the key to your plan. You seasoned it as usual but spiked it with just enough sleeping pills to incapacitate. You made sure to label it with your name, store it visibly in your fridge, and place a half-finished glass of juice beside it. You wanted it to look lived-in, convincing, a perfect trap should he decide to raid your kitchen while you left so he can do be fooled with the fake, food.

Your window remained unfixed, and you started leaving the back door slightly unlocked, just in case. You didn’t want to inconvenience him. He might notice and think you were trying to keep him out, and you couldn’t have that.

Meanwhile, your eyes darted constantly across the campus, scanning crowds for any hint of him. You noted everyone’s schedules, mapped out their movements, even engaged in small talk to see if anyone slipped or seemed overly interested in you. But you were careful, never letting on that you were actively looking for someone.

The high alert you maintained made your classmates think you were just unusually focused. Nobody questioned you, and you made sure to keep up appearances: smiling, laughing when appropriate, pretending you didn’t feel eyes on you during every step you took.

Your awareness sharpened to the point where you could feel even the subtlest shifts in your environment. A shadow lingering a little too long, footsteps trailing you just far enough to seem coincidental, and the faint brush of something in your periphery. It thrilled you.

That night, everything was in place. You prepared your fake dinner, complete with a side of drugged juice, and left it in the kitchen. The back door was left unlocked, the window slightly ajar. You dimmed the lights in your room, slipped into bed, and forced yourself to feign sleep.

Your heart raced as you waited. Will he come tonight?

Time passed, but you stayed still, fighting the urge to peek at the camera feed. If this worked, you would finally get what you wanted—a glimpse of him unguarded, vulnerable.

The plan worked almost too perfectly. The camera, discreetly tucked in a shadowy corner, confirmed what you already suspected—he was breaking in nightly. Sol fell for the fake food every time, drugging it to keep you in a deeper sleep. You couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of pride. He’s trying so hard for me.

That night, you left everything in place as usual. The drugged fake food was strategically left out, the door slightly ajar, and your performance as a deep sleeper rehearsed to perfection. You even regulated your breathing to mimic the rise and fall of slumber, fully aware he was watching. The excitement bubbled under your skin, but you held it in check. Be still. He can’t suspect.

You felt him enter, the faintest whisper of air as the door creaked open. He moved quietly, though not silently. Every step he took was deliberate, careful not to wake you. You heard the faint sound of him checking the food, his soft hum of satisfaction as he saw it gone!. Good. He thinks I ate it.

The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat down beside you. Your pulse quickened, but you kept your breathing steady, your body relaxed. He leaned close, his breath warm against your neck.

“Pumpkin…” he whispered, the word barely audible, yet it sent a shiver down your spine. His voice was soft, tender, laced with a devotion that felt almost holy in its intensity. “You’re so perfect, you know that? Even when you sleep, you’re beautiful.”

You felt his hand brush against your hair, a soft caress like you were something precious, fragile. He moved closer, the faint scent of his cologne enveloping you. Then, he did something you didn’t expect—he lay down beside you. His arm draped over your waist, pulling you close as though you belonged there, as though this was his right.

He buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply. “You smell like heaven,” he murmured, his voice barely above a breath. “I’ve waited so long for this. To hold you. To be close to you.”

Your heart clenched. Not in fear or disgust—no, it was something else entirely. He’s… cute? The thought struck you like a lightning bolt, absurd and yet undeniable. There was something endearing about the way he clung to you, his touches reverent, his voice filled with genuine emotion. This is wrong. He’s a stalker. He drugs my food. He breaks into my house… but… You bit the inside of your cheek to suppress a smile.

He continued to whisper sweet nothings, his words blurring into a hazy mix of praise and adoration. “You’re everything to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” His hand slid up to brush your hair back, his fingers lingering on your cheek. “You’re mine, pumpkin. You’ll always be mine.”

A part of you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Mine? You were the one trapping him, leading him into this elaborate game of cat and mouse. And yet, his words made your heart flutter. What is wrong with me? you thought, though the answer was glaringly obvious. You were broken, disturbed, a sick and twisted mirror of his obsession.

But you were self-aware, at least. That counted for something, didn’t it? No. No, it doesn’t, you admitted silently, feeling a pang of guilt.

Still, you played your part perfectly. You didn’t stir as he shifted, wrapping his arms around you more tightly. You felt the weight of his head resting against yours, his breath warm and steady.

“You make me feel alive,” he whispered. “Even if you don’t know it, even if you’d hate me if you did… I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. But instead of fear, you felt a sick sense of satisfaction. He needs me.

You clasped your hands together under the blanket, holding them to your mouth as though in prayer. Your lips curved into a soft smile, hidden from his view. This was real. Someone wanted you, needed you, loved you so obsessively it consumed them.

It didn’t matter that it was wrong, that it was dangerous. You weren’t afraid. If anything, you felt secure, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace. How ironic, you thought, giggling softly in your mind. The stalker makes me feel safe.

The hours dragged on, but he didn’t move. He stayed there, holding you as though he was afraid you’d vanish. When his breathing finally evened out, signaling he’d fallen asleep, you dared to open your eyes just a sliver.

You caught a glimpse of his face, partially obscured by the strands of his black-and-green hair. Even in sleep, there was a softness to his features, a vulnerability that made your chest ache.

He’s beautiful.

You closed your eyes again, biting your lip to stifle another giggle. You were a good actor, yes, but deep down, you knew the truth. You weren’t pretending for his sake. You were pretending for yours, to keep up the illusion that you still had control.

Because the reality was, you didn’t.

He had you just as much as you had him.

Each night, you lay in bed, pretending to be under the spell of the fake food laced with sleeping pills. Each night, he came to you, a shadow in the moonlight, and you reveled in his presence.

Your adoration for him grew like an uncontrollable fire, consuming every rational thought. The notebook you’d started was your secret shrine to him. Sketches filled the pages—his face, his hair cascading like a dark waterfall, his intense eyes, the way his lips curled into the faintest smile when he whispered sweet things to your sleeping form. You had to capture it all. Your pencil scratched furiously, your mind replaying his words, his touch, the way he’d caress your face and murmur promises as if you were his most precious treasure.

That night, you prepared everything as usual. The fake food sat on the counter, the door left just barely ajar, your blankets pulled up to mimic serene sleep. You curled into the mattress, feigning slumber, though your heart raced with anticipation.

The familiar sound of the door creaking open sent a thrill down your spine. His footsteps were soft but unmistakable, and you felt the mattress shift as he sat down beside you. Here we go.

“Pumpkin,” he murmured, his voice tinged with a tenderness that made your chest ache. His hand brushed your hair back from your face, and you fought the urge to smile. “Why don’t you ever turn back to look at me? I saw you at class today…”

Your breath hitched ever so slightly. What?! Your mind raced, but you maintained your facade. His voice was soft, almost pleading, and it tugged at something deep inside you.

He sighed, lying down beside you and draping an arm over your waist. His grip was possessive, but his touch was gentle, warm. “I wish you would,” he whispered. “I wish you’d look at me, smile at me, talk to me… God, I’d do anything to make you happy.”

Your heart thudded loudly in your chest. Is this real?��His words, his touch, the way he held you—it all felt surreal, like a dream you didn’t want to wake from.

“If anyone bullies you…” he began, his voice low and serious. “They’re done for. I’ll make sure of it.”

Bullies? Your mind latched onto the word. Did he know about the snide remarks, the subtle glances from classmates? Wait… Your heart skipped a beat as realization dawned. Same school?!

You wanted to scream, laugh, cry—every emotion hit you at once. He was there, so close, within reach even during the day. The idea sent a jolt of giddy energy through you. He’s been watching me even then.

He shifted, his lips brushing dangerously close to yours. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you fully, and your heart practically stopped. Instead, he kissed the corner of your lips, lingering just enough to make your stomach churn with a dizzying mix of emotions.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispered. “Good night, pumpkin.”

You waited, your body tense, until you heard the faint click of the door closing behind him. Only then did you sit up, your breaths coming fast and shallow. Same school, your mind repeated, looping the thought like a mantra.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, your fingers trembling as you opened your notebook. The sketch of him was already half-finished, but now you added the details you hadn’t dared before—the soft smile he wore when he looked at you, the way his hair framed his face like ink spilled on paper. You scribbled furiously, giggling to yourself as your mind replayed his words.

“He’s mine,” you whispered, clutching the notebook to your chest. The idea felt like a delicious secret, one only the two of you shared.

You fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, your laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. It was manic, unhinged, and you couldn’t stop. You covered your mouth with your hands, trying to stifle the sound, but it burst out anyway.

He’s at my school. He’s watching me. He wants me.

The thought spiraled in your mind, sending shivers of excitement down your spine. You hugged yourself, the ghost of his embrace still lingering on your skin.

“Ahahaha…” Your laughter echoed in the room, a twisted symphony of delight and madness. This is love, you thought, your smile widening. “He loves me. He loves me so much.”

Dark circles framed your eyes, your energy depleted from balancing your nightly “acting” with day-to-day university life. Every night, after he left, your mind raced with fantasies of him, spinning scenarios that left you restless, yet alive.

Crowe noticed, of course. He always did. His concern showed in the way he glanced at you during lectures, and eventually, he leaned over, whispering, “You look like death. Go to sleep in the next class. I’ll get the notes for you.”

You flashed him a polite smile, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine, really. I was going to head to the library anyway.”

Crowe’s friend Brittney was hard to miss. Tall, striking, and effortlessly commanding, she was the kind of person who drew attention whether she wanted to or not. Her gyaru style made her stand out even more: bold streaks of color in her hair, immaculate nails, and an outfit that balanced daring and chic. Crowe had asked you to at least try to get along with her, but the truth was, you didn’t see yourself fitting into their world. Too weird, too… you.

Still, you played your part well, smiling sweetly when Brittney asked for help organizing papers. “Of course! Thank you for asking,” you replied, your voice the picture of politeness.

As she walked away, Crowe chuckled. “She’s like that. Rough edges, but she means well.”

You tilted your head, smiling faintly. “Everyone hides something under their skin, Crowe.”

The library was a quieter battlefield until one of the bullies decided to play a cruel joke. A mean girl “accidentally” knocked over a shelf Brittney had been working on. Papers and books scattered everywhere, and you could see Brittney’s jaw tighten, her polished exterior cracking.

“F***ing bitch!” Brittney snarled, tackling the girl with surprising ferocity.

It escalated quickly. Books flew, chairs screeched, and the air buzzed with tension. You tried to step in, hands raised in a gesture of peace, but chaos had already broken loose. When one of the girls attempted to strike Brittney from behind, you didn’t hesitate—you shoved her hard, pushing her back into a table.

Pain shot through your wrist as you deflected her, and you realized she’d managed to scratch you with something sharp. Blood welled up, staining your sleeve, but adrenaline drowned out the pain. Brittney’s punches found their target while you held the attacker off.

The fight fizzled when a few bystanders yelled for order, and the bullies slinked away under the librarian’s furious glare. Brittney brushed herself off, her hair askew but her fiery defiance intact. Jess, another of Brittney’s friends, rushed to her side, fretting quietly as she checked her for injuries.

You stood off to the side, cradling your wrist. Jess glanced at you briefly, hesitant, before returning her focus to Brittney. You caught the faintest flicker of concern in her expression. She does care, you thought, but you let it go.

Crowe appeared moments later, taking in the scene with wide eyes. “What the hell happened? You’re hurt—let me take you to the nurse.”

You shook your head, offering him a tired smile. “I’m fine. I can go on my own.”

Crowe didn’t look convinced, but you turned away before he could argue, clutching your injured wrist as you made your way out. It’s nothing, you told yourself. Just another day in your fractured reality, another crack in the mask you wore so well.

The nurse’s office was a quiet reprieve from the chaos of the library. You slipped into the restroom nearby first, taking a moment to breathe and inspect your injured wrist under the fluorescent lights. The skin was raw and red, the gash deeper than you initially thought, but the pain was dulled by the adrenaline still coursing through you. You splashed water on your face, smoothing your features back into a neutral mask before heading into the nurse’s domain.

The hallway seemed endless as you walked, with lingering eyes on you from passing students. Whispers buzzed faintly, but no one dared approach. Good, you thought. You preferred it that way. Once inside, the nurse noticed your bruised state immediately.

“Another bully victim?” she sighed, her tone exasperated but kind. “This school, honestly… I need to file a formal complaint with the principal.” She gestured for you to sit, but you stayed standing, pretending to be fascinated by the various medical supplies lined up on the counter. You didn’t want to stay still. It made you too vulnerable.

As you idly picked at a box of bandages, a voice sliced through the quiet atmosphere.

“Did you have to punch that girl’s boyfriend that hard, Sunny?”

“Yes,” came a familiar, firm reply. “They hurt them. So I did.”

Your heart stopped. That voice—it was him. The one who watched, who whispered. The voice that curled around your mind every night like smoke.

Without thinking, you stumbled backward, finding a corner to hide behind as your gaze sought him out. And there he was.

There was something almost surreal about seeing him in the light of day, his presence no longer confined to the shadowy cocoon of your nights. “Sunny,” as his companion called him—was perched on the nurse’s bed, his plum hair catching the light in a way that made it seem alive, streaked with vibrant green like ivy climbing through ruins. His heterochromatic eyes burned like embers: orange at their core, ringed with a deep crimson that seemed to pulse with restrained intensity. They were a contradiction, much like him—fiery yet haunting, sharp yet soft.

His features were angular, carved with precision, yet softened by the slight pout of his lips and the faint curve of his nose. He radiated a raw, magnetic energy that felt both predatory and tender, like the kind of beauty that ruins you, and yet you crave it. The piercings that adorned his ears gleamed faintly, tiny markers of rebellion etched into his skin. The hoops on his lower lip caught the light every time he spoke, adding a glint of silver to the vibrant palette of his face.

His striped shirt clung to him, black and green lines stretching across his lean frame. The black t-shirt layered beneath was slightly oversized, softening the edge of his appearance, while his necklace dangled lightly with each of his movements—a two-pronged key, dangling with an air of mystery. His jewelry matched his aesthetic perfectly: the buckled choker hugging his throat, the key necklace swaying with each breath, the metal glinting like secrets waiting to be uncovered.

Even seated, he had a presence that demanded attention, though he seemed to wield it effortlessly, unaware of the effect he had on the room.

The blue-haired boy standing next to him was smaller in stature, and despite his exasperated expression, there was a gentle authority in the way he interacted with Sol.

“Isn’t it time to go, Sunny?” he asked, clearly used to Sunny’s antics.

“Nope,” Sunny replied lazily, crossing his arms. “Not until Y/N gets bandaged.”

Your breath hitched. Your name falling from his lips sent a jolt through your chest, like an electric wire connecting directly to your heartbeat. You pressed further into the corner, praying they wouldn’t notice you, but you couldn’t stop watching.

The blue-haired boy—Hyugo, as Sol addressed him—sighed, dragging Sunny off the bed with surprising strength despite their size difference. “Sunny,” he chided, like a parent scolding their child. Sol resisted briefly, pouting, before reluctantly letting himself be led away. His footsteps echoed faintly as they left, and you waited until you were sure the coast was clear before emerging from your hiding spot.

You managed to snap a few discreet photos of Sol. You told yourself it was just for memory’s sake, but when you looked at them again, your stomach fluttered.

Sol, with his chaos and beauty, was so striking, so utterly unique. And he was yours to admire, even if only from a distance.

The nurse’s hurried return interrupted your spiraling thoughts. Her voice pulled you back to reality as she gestured for you to sit on the bed she had prepared. “And what about the other two students?” she asked, glancing toward the hallway.

“They left,” you muttered, your voice neutral as you fought to keep your heart rate under control. The nurse bustled around, grabbing supplies while she filled the silence with small talk.

“They’re such interesting boys,” she said, her voice warm with familiarity. “Hyugo is such a helpful young man. Always looking out for that friend of his. You know, despite his height, Sol is surprisingly sweet—like a friendly giant.“

Your hands tightened around the edge of the bed, nails pressing into the vinyl. Hyugo. That was the blue-haired boy’s name. The nurse’s description of him as Sol’s protector matched perfectly with what you had seen. You forced out a soft giggle, though it escaped as a hiccup, drawing the nurse’s attention. “Are you alright?” she asked.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied quickly, masking your excitement. “It’s just… they seem close. It’s kind of nice.”

“Oh, they are,” she continued, dabbing antiseptic on your wound. “Hyugo’s always been like that. And Solivan…” She paused, as though thinking of the right words. “He’s a bit of a sad case, really. He’s been through a lot, poor thing. But he’s strong—so much stronger than he realizes.”

Your breath hitched. Solivan. Your world tilted as the name settled in your chest like a brand. Solivan Brugmansia. It echoed in your head, sweet and perfect, like a melody only you were meant to hear.

The nurse’s voice faded into a murmur as she continued her work, oblivious to the storm brewing within you. Your heart raced, your mind spinning as you turned the name over and over in your head. When she finished bandaging your hand, you thanked her in a daze and stumbled out of the office.

The hallway was empty, but you didn’t care. You ducked into the restroom, slamming the door shut behind you. The sterile walls seemed to close in as your emotions surged. A giggle bubbled up, spilling out in shaky bursts before escalating into full-blown laughter.

“Solivan Brugmansia,” you whispered, your voice reverent, almost trembling. You repeated it, louder this time, your reflection in the mirror smiling back at you. “Solivan Brugmansia. Solivan. Brugmansia. Sol. Solivan.”

The name felt like magic, a key unlocking something wild and unhinged within you. You chanted it like a prayer, each repetition filling you with a twisted joy. “Solivan Brugmansia, Solivan Brugmansia, Solivan Brugmansia—”

Your giggles turned to shrill laughter, a sound that echoed eerily in the small restroom. You clutched the sink for support, your bandaged hand trembling as your thoughts spiraled further. I know his name. I know his name! The realization was intoxicating, overwhelming, consuming every rational thought you had left.

“He’s perfect,” you whispered to yourself, tears of manic delight prickling at your eyes. “I’ll meet him. I’ll be normal. I’ll be normal. I’ll—”

A sudden knock on the door shattered your reverie, the sound loud and jarring against your fragile composure.

“Could you keep it down in there?” a muffled voice called, annoyance dripping from the tone.

Your laughter cut off abruptly, replaced by a cold, seething anger. Slowly, you turned toward the door, your reflection in the mirror now a twisted, distorted version of yourself.

They dared to interrupt.

You opened the door slowly, your movements deliberate, controlled. The person on the other side—a student, their face vaguely familiar—took a step back, their irritation fading into nervousness as they met your gaze.

“Is there a problem?” you asked, your voice low and dangerous. The edges of your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, and your tilted head made you look like a predator sizing up its prey.

“N-No, just…” they stammered, their confidence crumbling under your cold stare. “You were, um, being kind of loud—”

Before they could finish, you took a single step forward, and they flinched. The hallway seemed darker now, your presence casting a shadow that felt far too large for one person.

“I’ll keep it down,” you said softly, the sweetness in your tone laced with venom. Then, leaning in just enough for them to catch the glint of something unhinged in your eyes, you whispered, “But you should watch where you stick your nose next time.”

They stumbled back, their mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, before muttering a hurried apology and retreating down the hall.

The sound of their footsteps faded, you turned back into the restroom, closing the door with a quiet click. Your reflection in the mirror greeted you, your smile widening as you touched your lips, imagining them shaping his name again.

“Solivan Brugmansia,” you whispered, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

The encounter had done nothing to dim your obsession. If anything, it only fed it. Soon, you thought, your heart pounding with anticipation.

You started stalking Sol and Hyugo like clockwork. Every day on campus, you trailed after them, your movements as careful as a predator circling its prey. They were always together—Hyugo acting like a makeshift guardian while Sol seemed lost in his own world. Their favorite spot quickly became apparent: the rooftop. It wasn’t technically allowed for students to hang out there, but that didn’t stop them. Sol seemed to loathe the cafeteria, his disdain for its noise and chaos written all over his face whenever someone suggested it.

You made it a habit to reach the rooftop before them, ensuring you’d have the perfect vantage point to watch them. Not creepy at all, you thought with a twisted grin. There was something ethereal about Solivan under the open sky, the sunlight catching on the green streaks in his hair and making his mismatched eyes gleam like fire and blood. He’s so pretty, you sighed internally. Every movement, every glance felt deliberate and perfect, like he was crafted by your own imagination.

Hyugo, the blue-haired “parent” of the duo, was Sol’s grounding force. You watched as he subtly steered Sol’s chaotic thoughts back to reality, his calm voice carrying through the breeze. Sometimes, their conversations drifted your way. One particular exchange made your heart race.

“Have you been taking your sleeping pills, Sol?” Hyugo asked, his tone laced with concern.

Sol nodded, but you knew better. Oh, sweetheart, you’re feeding them to me instead, you thought, biting back a giggle. The very idea thrilled you. He’s lying to his best friend for me—just like I’d lie for him. We’re so alike, Sol. Matchy-matchy. You giggled softly to yourself, clutching your bag as though it held every secret you’d gathered about him.

The rooftop had become your sacred ground. Each day, you made sure to get there first, blending into the background as best you could while Sol and Hyugo came to unwind. It was their haven, where Sol could escape the cafeteria—his disdain for the crowded, noisy space evident in every eye roll and sharp comment he made about it.

You hid yourself carefully, peering around corners or crouching behind vents as the duo talked. It wasn’t hard to piece together their dynamic: Hyugo, the loud and teasing one, always nudging Sol toward some semblance of normalcy, and Sol, the quiet, brooding artist, who seemed eternally annoyed yet tethered to his friend’s chaotic energy.

“Sunny boy, I swear, one day you’re going to crack from all this stalking,” Hyugo teased, leaning against the edge of the rooftop railing. His blue hair caught the sunlight, but your eyes were locked on Sol.

“I’m not stalking anyone,” Sol muttered, his voice as flat and disinterested as ever. He didn’t look up from his sketchbook, where his pencil moved in quick, fluid strokes.

“Uh-huh. And I’m the Pope. Come on, Sunny, you’re practically vibrating whenever Y/N’s around. It’s cute, actually.”

Sol shot him a glare so sharp it could cut glass. “I don’t vibrate.”

“Sure, sure,” Hyugo said with a grin, leaning closer to peek at the sketchbook. “Hey, is that—oh my God, are you drawing them again? Sunny, you’re obsessed!”

“Shut up, Hyugo,” Sol snapped, snapping the book shut with a satisfying thud. A faint flush dusted his cheeks, and you almost swooned at the sight.

Through your relentless watching, you pieced together more and more about Sol’s world. He liked plushies—tiny glimpses of them in his bag or on his desk betrayed a softness he tried to hide. Horses fascinated him, though you’d never seen him near one. The ocean, however, was an object of pure hatred. Even the thought of it seemed to unsettle him. And his neck—oh, how he hated when people noticed it. You didn’t know why, but the way he’d pull his collar up or hide behind his scarf whenever someone’s gaze lingered too long sent shivers of fascination down your spine.

Crowe, though? Sol hated Crowe. Why? You weren’t sure. Did Sol think you liked Crowe? That thought made you laugh—a loud, manic sound that echoed in your mind. No, silly Sol. Crowe’s just a friend. You’re the only one who matters. You giggled to yourself, making a mental note to friendzone Crowe at the next opportunity. No one has to die, right?

Your stalking wasn’t all selfish indulgence, though. You made it your mission to protect Sol from his bullies in secret. Every time someone dared to mess with him, you found ways to make their lives miserable. Pranks, carefully crafted rumors, even well-placed traps—it was your way of showing love, even if he’d never know it was you.

You couldn’t stop yourself, could you? Each time your mind drifted back to Sol, it felt like you were drowning in an ocean of thoughts you couldn’t escape. There was no rational explanation for it, just a need, a yearning to see him, to be close to him. You didn’t know why you liked Sol, and the more you thought about it, the more you felt like something inside you was broken. Messy. Rotten. Ugly. Stupid. The words echoed in your mind like a relentless drumbeat, each one sinking deeper into your consciousness.

But you couldn’t stop. Why couldn’t you stop?

Maybe you were just messed up—maybe this was just who you were now. The idea of obsession wasn’t new to you, but this? This feeling for Sol was different. You were feeding into his own obsession, subtly manipulating his thoughts and actions, just as he unknowingly tugged on your every string. I’m a fucking mess, you thought, crumpling the pages of your journal before tossing it aside. I’m messed up for liking him. I shouldn’t be doing this. Why do I care so much?

Yet, as you thought about it, a darker voice inside your head whispered: But you don’t care. You just want him. You want to keep him. Don’t you?

You looked at your reflection in the glass, disgust rising up in your throat. The self-loathing was overwhelming. You wanted to leave. Run away. Escape from this sick obsession gnawing at you, but you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. What would I even do without him? you thought, the sick realization that he was the only thing that made sense in your otherwise chaotic world.

And then your gaze shifted. Your scrapbook—your treasure trove of Sol. You’d been filling it for weeks, months, maybe. Pictures of him, scribbled notes, little drawings of his face, and the countless things you learned about him. Things you knew he would never notice, things that were yours and yours alone. You smiled, a dark, twisted grin spreading across your face as you flipped through the pages, relishing in the thought that no one else had this.

You reached for your favorite pen, the one that always felt so good in your hand, and began writing. The words flowed out like a twisted confession, something that felt raw and vulnerable, but at the same time, empowering. You wrote:

O, thou shadowed soul whose crimson eyes do stare, Through twilight’s veil, seeking me with ceaseless care. How I know thy step, thy breath, thy tender scheme, The hunter’s heart, woven deep within this dream.

I, Annabel, with whispers darkly sweet, Stand here entranced, ready for the cruel heat, Of trial and gaze, a feverish, whispered jest, To test thy fervor, O stalker, my unrest.

Art thou true, or doth the mask crack wide, When confronted with love that seeks to chide? O Sol, thou art regal, a lost marquis, A figure grander than court’s rich pleas.

Why dost thou flinch at this jeweled yoke, Collared like Marie Antoinette, when spoke Of necks adorned in fate’s decree, Tell me, pretty man, dost thou flee or plea?

Yet, I love thee, this strange, begotten chase, A danse macabre within thy haunted embrace. O, prove thyself, meet the midnight’s dare, For ‘tis love I hold, should thy soul lay bare.

His Annabel…

You laughed quietly to yourself, the sound almost hollow. Oh god, this is so cringy, you thought. The poetry, the confession—it was ridiculous. But it’s what I feel, isn’t it?

You paused, looking at the mess of words you had written, and smiled. It’s okay. I don’t care. You couldn’t help but smile. I’m not normal. I’m not like everyone else. But Sol… Sol gets it, doesn’t he?

The laugh bubbled up again, darker this time, a little more manic. You hugged the scrapbook to your chest, clutching it tightly as though it were a lifeline. The obsession that had once felt foreign was now becoming a part of you, weaving itself into your identity like the very air you breathed.

You were hopeless. But, in a twisted way, you were happy. Because in this world of chaos, Sol was your constant. The only one who could save you.

And so you wrote more. “Fix me, Sol. Fix me, and I’ll love you forever.”

You looked at the words..

Everything was perfect until!

THUD!

Geo had always been a bit of a mystery to everyone, even to those who were close to Crowe. His tall, imposing presence, the sharp eyes that seemed to look straight through you, and his effortless grace with a weapon made him someone no one dared cross. He wasn’t known for being sociable or for revealing much about himself, and despite his wealth, people respected his silence more than they feared his power.

But now, you had been caught.

The way he stood in front of you, arms crossed with that knowing, intimidating gaze locked on you—shit. You hadn’t expected anyone to figure it out. You thought you’d covered your tracks well enough, staying in the shadows, sneaking around just before the rooftop sessions, watching Sol and Hyugo like an obsessive, lovesick ghost. But now, Geo—Geo—was standing in front of you, calling you out.

You forced a smile, a casual, almost innocent grin. "Why do you care?” You giggled, trying to make light of the situation, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you. The amusement didn’t reach your eyes. He knows, doesn’t he?

Geo raised an eyebrow, his aquamarine eyes never leaving yours, sharp and assessing. His posture was relaxed, but the air around him crackled with the intensity of someone who didn’t need to do much to make people feel uncomfortable. “Stalking people isn’t exactly a good look,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Especially not those close to Crowe.” His eyes flickered briefly to your hands, as if he knew you were clutching something—your scrapbook, maybe, the evidence of your obsession. Shit.

You scoffed, trying to push down the anxiety creeping up your spine. “Oh, come on. I’m just… observing.” You laughed, as though it were a joke, hoping that Geo would take it lightly. But you knew he wouldn’t. Geo wasn’t someone who took anything lightly.

“You think I’m stupid?” Geo’s tone hardened, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He stepped forward, the movement smooth and deliberate, closing the distance between you. “I know you’re not just observing. You’re obsessing, and you’re messing with them. Do you think I don’t notice? Do you think you’re the only one who sees things?” His words were like daggers, each one hitting harder than the last.

The room felt smaller now, as if the walls were closing in on you. Your heart raced, a mix of fear and excitement. He was onto you. But did he know the extent of it? Did he know you weren’t just watching from afar? Did he understand how deep this fixation went?

Geo’s expression shifted, growing more serious. “You’re playing a dangerous game, you know.” He stepped even closer, his face inches from yours. “And I don’t like people who play games with people I care about. So, if you have something on them… or if you think you can manipulate them into something they don’t want… I’d suggest you think twice.”

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. The image of Sol, of Hyugo, both so wrapped up in their own worlds, their quiet, innocent lives. You didn’t want to hurt them, not really. But the obsession—the way Sol’s face haunted your thoughts, how he was everything you wanted and more—it made your decisions blur. It made you do things you didn’t even fully understand.

Geo seemed to sense the shift in your demeanor. “Look,” he said, a trace of pity in his voice now, “I don’t want to make things difficult. I just want to make sure you understand the consequences of your actions.” His eyes bored into yours, almost reading your thoughts. “Whatever it is you think you’re doing with them… just stop. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”

The way he looked at you now, with a strange mix of concern and cold detachment, made you feel small, exposed. You weren’t used to this. You weren’t used to being vulnerable. He knows. He knows everything.

You bit your lip, trying to keep your composure. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whispered, but it was clear Geo didn’t believe you.

He sighed, his shoulders relaxing a little. “You’re lucky I don’t want to make this worse. Just… stay away from them, okay?” His voice softened just a fraction. “You don’t want to mess with someone like Sol. And you definitely don’t want to get on Hyugo’s bad side. Trust me and mess with him, you will see me.”

Geo took a step back, eyes still on you, as if waiting for your response. You didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything you could say. He’s right, isn’t he?

Geo turned and walked away, you felt your chest tighten.

You watch Geo from a distance, your heart pounding with excitement and a dash of madness. It wasn’t enough to just observe them anymore. No, you needed more.

With a quick step, you approach Geo, your grin growing wider. His dark eyes flicker with annoyance, and he halts, looking over at you as if you’re a pest he wishes would just disappear. The tension is thick, and you’re only getting more thrilled by it. You call out his full name, “Subaru Oogami,” knowing the effect it would have.

He stops. His expression hardens, and you can almost feel the wave of annoyance radiating off him. “What do you want?” he spits, his voice low, almost like a growl. It’s a response you expected. A warning, a challenge. You savor it.

“Isn’t Hyugo Sugimoto your older brother?” you ask, a playful note lacing your voice. The words are casual, but your eyes glint with mischief. His gaze sharpens even more. You can see the tension rising in his posture.

You giggle, unable to hide the amusement. “Such a bad boy, Subaru, ignoring your own brother like that. It’s so embarrassing, though… all that emo energy for what?” The words spill out of you in a rush, the laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. You know it’s getting under his skin. You can tell by the tightening of his jaw, the slight twitch of his hands.

You step closer, your eyes glinting with something dangerous, something predatory. “You know, I’ve gotten a lot of info from watching you and your brother… but don’t worry. I’m not interested in Hyugo,” you say, voice low and smooth, almost a whisper. You lean in just a bit, the space between you two narrowing. “But… I am interested in Sol.”

His glare feels like it could slice through steel, but you hold his stare, smiling evilly. His eyes narrow into daggers, but you don’t flinch. No one gets in your way. Not anymore.

“Don’t disturb me, and I won’t be after your ass, Subaru,” you say, your voice sweet but laced with the cold bite of a threat.

He looks at you, eyes flashing with fury. There’s a moment of silence where he contemplates your words, the weight of your threat hanging between you two. He looks ready to strike, to put you in your place, but he simply lets out a harsh “tch” and shakes his head.

“You keep quiet, stay out of trouble with me or Hyugo, and we won’t have a problem,” he says, his voice sharp, his glare never leaving you.

You tilt your head, a sly smile still tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Promises,” you murmur, watching as he turns, clearly done with the conversation. You let out a quiet laugh as you watch him walk away, knowing that you’ve made your point.

Geo, Subaru Oogami—whatever you call him—wouldn’t be such a threat anymore.

He left, looking that same death glare at you smiled like a angel who did nothing wrong!

Part 1 over! Pls tell me if I should make part 2…

reuploaded

[daddyslilchickenfingers2]

Kinktober (reuploaded)

Pent up (Chris)

Request: None

Warnings: Small fight, horny Chris, besties to lovers (when is that not the case?), minimal crying, inexperienced Chris, handjob, embarrassment/humiliation if you squint, switch Chris & reader, cumshot, riding, minimal degradation, begging

Chris’ pov

I’ve only ever had sex once in my life, it was when I was 17 and it was pretty trash, not gonna lie. It’s been 3 years since then and it’s been up to me to get myself off, which had been fine until recently. Nothing I do is working, I’ve tried switching hands, grinding on my bed, fucking pillows, humping random things, using a vibrator, and I still can’t cum. That doesn’t stop my dick from getting hard though, sometimes I go all day with a half-hard dick. It’s gotten to the point where it’s uncomfortable and starting to hurt because basically, all I can do is edge myself. I haven’t been able to fucking cum for 6 weeks, I don’t do hookups or one-night stands either so I’m literally screwed. (or not screwed in this sense)

Now that our friend Y/n from back home has moved to LA as well, my usually half-hard dick has become fully hard. We’ve known her for about 8 years, so needless to say she’s our best friend but that doesn’t mean I don’t find her attractive. Sure, in middle and high school I wasn’t attracted to her like that, plus she was more so Nick’s friend until we turned 16 and he came-out. She’s recently gotten a bigger following on social media and had moved out to LA for better opportunities, it was also obviously a plus that she’d get to see us more.

If I’m being honest, ever since Covid, Y/n has really had a glow up, we all have. However, I wasn’t used to seeing her all the time, except for on FaceTime, but her attractiveness never really affected me then. Now with Y/n coming over all the time, it was hard not to be affected by her attractiveness. It’s even harder when she wears short shorts/skirts, crop tops, or tank tops, and especially when she’s braless. I’d never say or do anything though, I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Plus, what am I supposed to say? “Oh by the way, you make me hard when you wear clothes like that, could you please stop?” there’s absolutely no way I’d do that.

I’ve been doing my best to avoid Y/n for the past month and I think she’s starting to catch on, she probably thinks I’m mad at her. I catch her giving me hurt and confused looks all the time and Matt says I hurt her feelings by pushing her away for no reason. Except there was a reason, but nobody knew that and nobody was going to find out. At least that was the plan until today as Y/n came over yet again. She walked through the door as usual, saying hi to Matt and Nick before they left for some reason. I was extremely confused because we didn’t have any plans and they didn’t mention that they were going somewhere.

Y/n came over to the couch and sat next to me, I just stayed on my phone until she took it out of my hand. She set it down on the coffee table before wrapping both her arms around my left one. Y/n put her head on my shoulder and sadly said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did but I’m sorry.” that made me feel like shit. I sighed and removed my arm from her hold to give her an actual hug. “Don’t apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, I’m sorry.” I sighed again as I heard her sniffle. She wrapped her arms tightly around my torso and I heard her sniffing a second time.

“Please don’t cry Y/n, I’m sorry. I’m just going through something with myself and it’s difficult being around you” I really should’ve worded that better because Y/n immediately pulled away. She was now understandably defensive and upset “What’s that supposed to mean!? You don’t like being around me!? I literally paid Matt and Nick to stay the night at my house so I could talk to you privately and now you don’t even want to be around me!?” she yelled at me. She got off the couch and started walking towards the door crying.

I felt like an asshole so I immediately went after her, pulling her into a tight hug before pulling away and wiping away her tears. “God, you’re gonna fucking hate me after I say this.” I said before taking a deep breath and continuing. “It’s difficult to be around you because you turn me on and make me extremely hard. It’s not your fault, it’s just my body being stupid. I can’t believe I’m telling you this but I haven’t been able to cum in like 6 weeks, I get painfully hard and can basically only edge myself. You know I don’t do hookups so I can only rely on myself and it’s just not working. I’m sorry.” I told her truthfully.

Y/n started laughing, like full on hysterically laughing. I stood there, not finding what I just funny but still cracked a smile at her laughter. “Oh my god, you’re such a jackass!” she joked, making me a little bit confused. “You could’ve just said that and I would’ve given you a handjob weeks ago!” she said between laughs. I didn’t know what to say back so I just stood there staring at her in shock. “Bullshit, I’ve been trying to hide the fact that you’ve been making me hard for weeks just for you to say you’d give me a handjob!? That’s fucking crazy!” I laughed while shaking my head.

Y/n’s pov

I can’t believe all the confusion and hurt going on, on my end was all because I turn Chris on. Yeah no shit he’s one of my best friends, but he’s also obviously very active and I’d honestly give him a handjob just for fun. I love the thought of making someone cum with just my hand, I’m obviously a bit more experienced than Chris since I had a boyfriend for 2 years and we had sex but it didn’t bother me. I like knowing I’ll be the only person to have given him a handjob and the second to touch him intimately like that.

After Chris said this was all crazy, I turned to walk back into the living room when he grabbed my wrist, turning me around. “And where do you think you’re going?” he asked in a cocky tone, “To sit down, what are you doing?” I said back. “I believe you owe me a handjob. Can’t believe you came over to talk to me in such a slutty little outfit and expected me to not get hard” Chris said with a smirk as his hands went to my waist. He pulled me against him so I could feel his half-hard cock and he’s fucking huge.

I decided to mess with him a bit and pull away, doing a little spin before saying, “You don’t like my outfit? Is it because I look bad?” I fake pouted. Chris grabbed my hips once again but his hands almost immediately went down to my ass. “I love it, I just don’t want others seeing what’s mine.” he said lowly, “Possessive.” I teased him, poking his chest. “Is that a problem?” he asked, “Not at all.” I replied. “Good. Now about that handjob offer-“ he started before I cut him off, “ Yes, I’ll give you a handjob now c’mon.” I laughed at his neediness.

We got to his room and I sat on his bed, taking my shoes off while he took off his shirt and laid down, propped by pillows. “Wait! Y-You know um…” he trailed off so I spoke up instead. “Know that you’ve only ever been touched and seen naked once? Yes, I’m aware.” “Oh, um okay, yeah that’s what I was gonna say. I was also going to ask if we could like makeout first? You know, to make me less nervous…” Chris blushed cutely. “Anything you want, tonight is all about your pleasure.” I smiled at him before moving my lips to meet his. Right before our lips we’re about to meet Chris mumbled, “Want you on my lap” pulling my waist so I was now sitting on his lap.

I once again leaned down to attach our lips, my left hand was on his chest while my right cupped his jaw. The kiss was a little slow at first and I could feel that Chris was still half-hard, slowly getting fully hard when he deepened the kiss. I wasn’t expecting him to run his tongue across my bottom lip or squeeze my ass so he could gain access to my mouth, but I was glad he did. The kiss started to get hot and I loved the way Chris whimpered a bit before pulling away. “Want you to touch my cock.” he panted with a smirk. Chris took off his pants before asking me to take off my skirt, which I did, “Goddamn baby, you’ve got such a nice ass.” he said before slapping my ass, making me laugh.

“Just sit back, relax, and enjoy” I winked at him before placing another kiss to his lips, sliding my hand over his hard-on. I pulled away and saw a bit of fear flash through his eyes, “Chris, are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” I asked softly, removing my hand from him. “No, I want you to keep going. I just- this won’t ruin our friendship or be awkward after, right?” he asked nervously. I brought my hand up to stroke his cheek, “I promise this won’t ruin our friendship or be awkward. I just wanna help you, plus it’s fun and enjoyable for me too.” I smiled. Chris smiled back, “Okay good. Please continue.” he said while blushing.

“Do you have lube and can I take off your boxers?” “Yes and yes” he replied, leaning over to grab the lube from his dresser next to his bed. He handed it to me before pulling down his boxers and blushing. “Holy fuck Chris! You’re fucking huge!” I said shocked because he’s a lot bigger than I expected. “Mmm shut up.” he whined back embarrassed, gasping loudly when I started slowly jerking him off. I looked at his face as it twisted with pleasure, I started to move my hand a bit faster as he looked at me, causing him to close his eyes and bite his lip to prevent any moans from falling past them. His face turned a bright pink, making me smile as I moved my other hand to his face, pulling his lip away from his teeth with my thumb.

“C’mon Chris, let me hear those pretty moans. Open those gorgeous eyes for me.” I softly ordered him. His hands were by his sides, balled up in fists as he gripped onto the sheets below him. He let a small whine when he opened his eyes and saw mine looking back at them. “Does that feel good?” I asked seductively, “G-Go faster.” he said, “Can you use your manners for me?” I teased. Chris gave me a pleading look, not wanting to beg but that quickly changed when I stilled my movements. “No, don’t stop! P-Pease go faster!” he groaned, immediately avoiding eye contact with me. I lightly gripped his jaw as I started moving my hand again, I turned his head to face me before saying, “So good with your words.” I smiled before slowly making out with him.

Chris pulled away to let out a particularly loud moan as I felt some precum leak out of his tip. I decided if I wanted to go faster, I’d need to use the lube, squirting some directly onto his cock. I sped up my movements, making Chris’ whines and moans get louder. “Talk to me.” “What?” “Dirty talk to me, tell me I’m being good. I don’t know just talk to me, I’m getting close.” he said. “Awe that’s cute, I haven’t even been jerking you off for 10 minutes and you’re already gonna cum.” I teased thinking he’d get mad at me but instead let out a loud whimper. “You like when I do that?” I asked when I started moving faster, Chris just whined and nodded his head erratically, feeling slightly humiliated.

I dug my thumb into his slit, collecting precum before using my other hand to play with his balls. My fist would tighten every time I went up towards the head, making Chris whimper and whine. I was so focused on pleasuring him that I jumped when I felt his hands come up towards my boobs, “Sorry, I ju-“ he started being I cut him off. “It’s okay I just wasn’t expecting you to touch me, go ahead and do whatever you were gonna do. You’re being such a good boy.” I added the last sentence experimentally to see if he’d like it, and to my surprise, he let out a loud, whiny moan. He moved my tank top straps down and lowered it so my boobs were now visible. Chris looked from my boobs up to my face, getting embarrassed when he found me already looking at him.

“Fuck Y/n/n don’t look at me like that, you’re gonna make me cum.” he whined. I decided to move positions and go in between his legs so I could get a better angle, Chris’ eyes blew out with lust at that. He became a whining, whimpering mess, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Shit ‘m gonna cum!” he loudly moaned out. I started moving my hand as fast as I could, trying to keep his hips still at the same time. Chris’ left hand came down to tightly hold onto my right wrist as the pleasure was overwhelming due to him edging himself for so long. I saw his stomach flex and thighs start to shake a bit, signaling he was about to cum. Not wanting to make a big mess, I moved his cock so it was up against his stomach, that way he wouldn’t cum all over his sheets.

“Fuck Y/n! Oh shit- yes I’m cumming!” he groaned out loudly, “Be a good boy and cum for me.” I replied seductively. Chris let out something that was a mix between a whine and a growl, which sounded so fucking hot. Within a couple of seconds, thick strings of white cum started to paint his body as I jerked him through his orgasm. I watched in awe as this was the biggest cumshot I’ve ever seen, some cum even made it all the way up to his face. That was fucking hot, I helped him through the aftershocks of his orgasm, during which he let out multiple whimpers and whines. I was so out of it that I didn’t realize Chris’ cock had now turned soft, “S-Stop too much, ‘m sensitive!” he moaned, causing me to finally let go of his cock.

Chris was breathing heavily but he looked so fucking good covered in his own cum like this. “Chris, are you okay?” I asked gently, with his eyes closed all he could do was whimper out a response that would turn me on even more. “P-Picture! Take a picture of me covered in my cum!” I was a bit shocked but nonetheless, I got up to grab my phone. I wasn’t even turned around for a more than a minute, but by the time I got back to the bed with my phone, he was already hard again. I took a few pictures before telling him to open his eyes, Chris looked at me with an extremely fucked out expression and a dopey smile as I took the last picture.

Even though Chris was basically fucked dumb at this point, he still somehow managed to take control of the situation. He grabbed me by my throat and pulled me closer to him, causing me to let out a surprised whine. “Clean my cum up with your tongue and ride me. Like you said earlier, tonight is all about my pleasure, meaning you’re gonna be the slut who does all the work.” he stated in an authoritative tone. I replied with a quick, “Yes sir.” before I started licking up his cum from his stomach all the way up to his face. He actually tasted really good, once he was clean of his cum, he sat up against the headboard.

Grabbing the bottom of my tank top, he said “Take it off.” before watching me pull it over my head. I was honestly a bit surprised at how much of a power bottom Chris was being right now, considering this is only his second time having sex. He pulled me onto his lap before smashing our lips together, biting mine as he pulled back to toy with the side of my panties. “Take these off before I fucking rip them off.” he growled, I immediately took them off and sat back on his lap. “Can I please just fuck myself on your cock now?” I whined, “Well you’re the one who’s gonna do all the work so go ahead. Condoms are i-“ he said cockily before I cut him off. “We don’t need one of those unless you want it.” I told him before kissing his neck, “Goddamn, no condom then.” he grunted.

I slowly sunk down onto his massive cock, “Jesus Christ! You’re so fucking tight!” he moaned out while his voice cracked. “Mhm you’re so big Chris!” I whimpered as I started bouncing on his dick. Chris helped me move by griping onto my ass while I started sucking hickies into his neck. “Baby you can’t leave marks, Matt and Nick can’t know.” he panted out, making me loudly whine. I didn’t stop though, I really didn’t care about his brothers finding out. However, I did stop when he slapped my ass and pulled my hair, “I told you to fucking stop!” he growled in my ear. I started moving a bit faster as he started sucking hickies into my chest, “Just wanted to mark you up!” I whined.

“Why? You tryna claim me as your own or something? Can’t stand the idea of other girls looking at me?” he teased me. Suddenly I turned into the whiny one, blabbing out incoherent sentences without thinking. “Don’t want others looking at you. Only me, you’re mine- please Chris! Want you!” I cried out as the pleasure started to become too much. “Please what baby? What do you want me to do?” he asked, looking at me with his eyes full of lust, “Just want you!” I said frustrated. Chris started thrusting up into me, “Yeah, you want me baby? You got me, I’m yours princess, kiss me.” he said softly in my ear. I moved my hands to wrap around his neck and thread through his hair as our lips met in a feverish kiss.

Chris helped me move faster as he thrusted up into me as well before he moved one hand from my waist to rub my clit. He moved his kisses down my neck, sweetly sucking more hickies into the skin. “Feel so good around my cock princess.” he mumbled, “Shit, Chris I’m gonna cum!” I cried out. With that Chris flipped us over and started drilling into me, looking down at me with a smirk. “Cum on my cock babe, cum so I can fill you up with mine.” he groaned, I pulled him down for another kiss, moaning into it. He was fucking into me at a fairly fast pace while rubbing my clit in tight, fast circles. I tightened around him as I started to cum, moaning loudly. Chris’ thrusts grew sloppy and before I knew it, he was loudly groaning and filling me up with his cum.

He fucked into me for a couple more seconds then pulled out, laying down next to me. As I came down from my high, a wave of emotions hit me and I suddenly got nervous. “Chris…” I said barely above a whisper, he just pulled me into his side, laying my head on his chest. He pulled the blankets up over us, “Shhh, it’s okay, I know. We’ll talk about it in the morning, I promise this doesn’t change anything in a bad way. Just go to sleep princess, everything’s gonna be okay.” he said in a soothing voice, calming my nerves. “Okay, goodnight Chris.” I said softly, “Goodnight pretty girl.” he replied back, protectively wrapping his arms around me.

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©Daddyslilchickenfingers2 2024

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[nyell-o]

Tome my beloved 💕👽

We need more weird girl characters and i will die on this hill.

[xxertxx]

Twitter: Cris_Campbell_

[y0ch]

it's actually me im giggling art by aidenlydia!!

[oneoffknights]

Monster High x Ghostbusters

[spidertick]

Mobius comes home after work:

Mobius:*walks into their bedroom,looking forward to just lay down in their bed and relax.Only to see Loki,and a giant lump under the covers.* ….Loki.What- the hell is this..

Loki:Oh hi,didn’t see you there.*he said seductively rolling over on his side with his classic.‘I have done something mischievous but will pretend nothing is happening.because I’m having a great time,look’*.

Mobius:I’m not doing this tonight Loki- either tell me what’s under the covers or I will just sleep in the guest room-

Loki:okay okay- I just thought we could…experiment a little tonight~?

Mobius:*He looked at Loki suspiciously before finally saying.* What are you-

*Loki dramatically pulls back the covers to reveal a pristine,waxed and buffed jet ski in the middle of their bed.*

[sloshi]

The hug Astarion REALLY deserves 🥺

[raen-evy]

Oc design

[nyell-o]

Hi Dimple is my favorite mp100 character and I am UPSET at the lack of Dimple content. You guys are all cowards.

[xxertxx]

Twitter: @_carotino

[oneoffknights]

Monster High x Don't Hug Me I'm Scared