#doesn't mean they hate the minorities?????? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vezpr · 2 days ago

Text

------------------------ toxic. ]

SUKUNAxF!READER ☽☾ COLLEGE AU ☽☾ ONESHOT ☽☾ AO3

☽☾ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Gojo shows you a video of your boyfriend, Sukuna, making out with another girl at a party, so you decide to get revenge. Poor Nanami.

☽☾ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/��𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+MINORS DNI, smut, porn with feelings (not necessarily good feelings), sukuna x reader, nanami x reader, ft gojo for as long as I can stand him :b, human Sukuna, college au/ no powers, toxic/ mutually abusive relationship dynamics, cheating, spanking, hate fucking, face slapping, throat fucking, hair pulling, light choking, no aftercare, degradation, name calling, drug and alcohol use mentioned, size difference, oral sex, piv sex, I suck at tags

☽☾ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.3k

"Satoru, can you at least pretend not to enjoy this, please," you say, holding your phone away from your face as it rings.

The man is glowing, his lanky frame sprawled across of one of the mismatched sofas in his apartment, one boot propped on a coffee table littered with the controlled chaos of his studies. He looks as if his head might actually explode with the force of unexpelled I-told-you-so's. "He's an asshole. I told you that before you ever hooked up, right? Forget him!"

"Damnit," you hiss, pausing in your frantic pacing long enough to redial your asshole boyfriend's number after being sent to his full mailbox half a dozen times.

"Why don't you try cool down a little before you talk to him," Nanami says from the opposite side of the room where he sits hunched forward, elbows on his knees, watching you pace. Always the reasonable one. "Nothing productive can possibly come of talking to him while you're like this."

You shoot the blonde man a withering glare, but hit the end button on the call, shoulders sagging, chin to chest as you cross to his side of the room. "I know you're right, Nanami," you reply as you slump, defeated, onto the sagging cushion next to him. He clears his throat when you splay your legs and your knee brushes his. You lean your head against the back of the couch and turn your face towards him, lips pursed in a pout as you feel the stinging threat of tears in your eyes. "It's just that... right now, I don't feel like I can cool dow-"

You sit bolt upright as your phone buzzes in your hand. The screen lights up with his face, framed in soft salmon waves that contrast with the hard black lines of tattoos tracing the angle of his jaw. You've been together for a year, practically moved in together right away, and still, even the digital representation of his garnet eyes makes your heart stutter just like it did the first time you saw him.

"Hey, I really don't think you should-" Nanami begins.

"Sukuna," you answer, rising from the couch and crossing the arm that isn't holding the phone to your ear over your ribcage, as if that will prevent your heart from beating out of your chest.

"Who are you with," he asks, apparently hearing Nanami, who continues to lecture you in the background. But, fuck, if the rasp of his voice doesn't make your insides squirm in a way they definitely shouldn't right now. Why do you have to be so hopelessly obsessed with him?

You shoot your friend a pleading look and wave your hand at him. He sinks back into the couch, shaking his head, but he shuts up.

"Who's throat did you have your tongue down last night," you demand, voice rising already. When your question is met with silence, you add, "Go- someone showed me a video."

"Nothing happened," he replies, his voice steady and calm, as if he were ordering a coffee, which really makes you start to lose your shit.

"Do. not. fucking gaslight me right now. It was you, I fucking saw-"

"I mean nothing happened after that. You didn't see a video of me fucking anybody. Didn't even hear about the possibility of me fucking anybody. Because I didn't fuck anybody. I mean, shit, I got home before you." He pauses and your heart starts to slow just a little. Maybe it really didn't go any farther than that. Maybe this doesn't have to be a big deal... but then he opens his stupid mouth again. "Couldn't stay hard because of the molly."

"Fuck you, Sukuna," you scream-sob, holding the phone under your chin. "Fuck you! If you were here I'd slap your motherfucking face so goddamn hard I swear to god!"

He laughs, of course. "Calm down, baby. I'm kidding. I knew that white-haired prick was watching my every fucking move. I just did it to piss you off after you left with that blonde guy that's always limping after you like a lost puppy."

You glance up at Nanami, wondering if he heard, but he is studiously examining his cuticles. Even Gojo looks uncomfortable as he busies himself with straightening the papers on his desk, his luminous eyes peeking at you through the platinum locks that have fallen over his forehead in the process.

"I left because you were so fucking high. Laughing at everything, grinding your teeth like a crackhead, going on and fucking on about how you feel like a god among men or somevweird shit like that. It's embarrassing as hell! I ask you to go to one little party-"

"Exactly, you bitched and moaned until I agreed to hang out with your loser friends - who just so happen to all be men that want to fuck you-"

He is getting loud now, apparently loud enough for your companions to hear because Gojo, with a flourish of his wrist, cheerfully interjects, "I don't want to fuck you."

"Shut up Satoru," Nanami hisses.

"-It's like you get off parading yourself around them in front of me... but I digress. My point is that I don't know what the hell would make you think I would be willing to endure that shit sober."

"Oh, so now it's my fault you fucking cheated on me?"

He's quiet for a minute and you hear him sigh into the receiver. "I got a question for you. You didn't get home til late, where were you?"

"Well, I was hungry so we stopped to get something to eat..."

"For like... had to have been at least four hours?"

"I guess we lost track of time talking..."

"Talking. Okay. Well that sounds fucking fantastic, babe but-"

"Well at least I didn't tongue wrestle him in front of half the fucking campus!"

"You know what... I can't do this now, I'm at work. That whimsical motherfucker had all day to start this shit and of course he waited until I'm at work. When I get home tonight, we're gonna have a nice long chat. Maybe not four hours but..."

"I'm not going to be home when you get home tonight."

Another tense silence. "Don't fuck with me, babe. You really don't wanna do that."

"Don't fuck with me, babe!" You echo in a shrill, mocking tone. "You know what kind of people say that? 'Don't fuck with me?' Weak, scared little bitches. And you should be scared, because you're never gonna find somebody who will want your worthless, piece of shit ass like I did. Ever."

"Baby."

"Please fuck with me, babe, find out what fucking happens," you spit out before hanging up on him.

When your phone vibrates, you're still rooted to the spot. You lift your shaking hands to read the message.

you better be there when I get home

You scoff.

"Nanami, can I stay with you tonight?"

He had been watching you, but now his eyes slide away behind the glare reflecting off his glasses. "You really think that's a good idea?"

"Please? I don't want to be home and I don't want to be alone," you must look quite pathetic, because he nods begrudgingly.

"Great," says Satoru. "This man has been needing to get laid for decades."

"Shut up, Gojo," you and Nanami both say at once.

Although he is the same age as the rest of your friend group, the man has his shit significantly more together than anyone else. He had skipped most of the partying, failing, switching majors, and the rest of the general fuckery and graduated first. Got himself a good job, something to do with stocks. He's got a mortgage, while the rest of you are struggling to pay rent. He's too good for the rest of you, truth be told.

You look at your phone, as you had approximately every ten seconds since you left Satoru's apartment, but nothing from Sukuna. He wouldn't be off from his job until almost midnight, anyway. Maybe he really doesn't care what you do. You pull down the menu from the top of the screen and hover your finger over the location toggle. Nah, let him suffer, you think to yourself as you decide to leave it on. Or come get me if he actually gives a fuck. Sliding the device into your back pocket, you walk up the driveway to Nanami's door and knock.

Too good for you. But he doesn't seem to know it.

"Hey," you say with a tight smile when he lets you in. "I come bearing gifts," you hold up a bag of takeout and a bottle of wine. There's actually another one in the trunk, just in case.

You're pretty sure neither of you are watching whatever movie is playing. You don't even remember what it's called. Gradually you notice that he relaxes, softens into the couch, turns his head to look at you, smiles a little. You smile back. It's easy to just be with Nanami like this, quiet.

You do end up retreiving it after the first one is empty. The man is wound tight like a spring. And you swear he clears his throat everytime you accidentally brush against him grabbing food from the coffee table, or refilling you glasses. What does that mean? You wonder silently.

"You sleep with those on," you tease, poking his calf with a socked toe.

He looks down, "What my shoes? No." He smiles, warm. Tipsy maybe, both of you.

You laugh softly. "Take em off. You live here, you know."

He shrugs and toes them off. "Happy?"

"No," you deadpan.

His smile falters and you laugh.

He lets his head fall against the back of the couch and rolls his eyes. Looks at you and smiles again. "I don't drink much," he says.

"I know," you scoot closer, knees pressing into his thigh. "You drunk?"

He looks down at the point of coat, then back into your eyes. "No. Are you?"

"Nope." You reach out and lift his glasses off of his face. He lets you. Doesn't even clear his throat or look away. When you lean back to set them on the coffee table, you begin to lose your balance, but he catches you around the waist and pulls you back.

"You sure?" He asks, resting his hand on the small of your back.

"I'm sure," you smile, reaching for his tie. "Don't you ever get comfortable?" You ask, loosening it.

"Not really," he says, pulling you towards him.

"Hm," you hum, straddling his lap as you pull the tie free from his collar. You smile at how nonchalant the two of you are, as if this isn't happening. Like he didn't pull you into his lap. Like you aren't brushing a blonde fall of hair off of his forehead as he looks up at you, honey eyes half-lidded. Like his hands haven't slid under the hem of your tank top, warming the skin of your back.

You're just friends. Yeah. Just talking.

His mouth is warm and soft, wine-tart. He smells like cedar and ocean salt. When you hear your phone ping softly, he's got a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back to press his mouth into your neck, tongue gentle against the tender flesh. No teeth. Without looking you know the unique little tone means your device has been gps located. You moan when he pulls the strap of your tank top down and takes your nipple in his mouth. You hadn't worn anything under that.

Oops.

You had been working on the buttons of his shirt, palms sliding across his pecs. He pulls away to let you slip it off. "I could take care of you," he says, breathless, as he loosens his watch and works his hands out of the sleeves. "You wouldn't have to ever have another day like you had today."

"I know," you say as you wrap around each other, mouths fastened together, moving like you have years rather than just the next handful of moments. Him the living sea, rolling over you, the shore, a dead thing made of dirt. I can take care of you, his hands whisper. Your atrophied heart clenches, and, for a moment, you wish it could be true.

A car door slams outside.

He pulls away and looks at you, ugly realization dawning in his eyes. "Oh," he nods grimly. "I get it."

He sighs raggedly and shakes his head as pushes you off of his lap gently. His hands a soft suggestion, unlike Sukuna's demanding touch. You feet hit the floor just as the first splinters fly from the doorframe.

How many kicks, you think bizarrely of a little cartoon owl with a sucker. How many kicks does it take to break down Nanami Kento's door? Three. Three kicks.

You are frantically feeling in between the couch cushions for your discarded top when Sukuna shoulders through the broken door.

"It was unlocked, jackass," you hear Nanami say, "That's gonna be expens-" then a couple of thumps, the soft crush of bone and cartilage, and the loud thud of a body crumpling to the floor.

Trying to pull Sukuna off of him is like trying to move a mountain. You pull at him and scream in your panic sharpened voice, "Please, Kuna, stop! Please stop! Don't hurt him!" Although, you can see that it's too late for that.

You reel backward when he rounds on you, but you need not worry about falling. He catches you by the hair and pulls you up. He looms over you, his vastness swallowing you like his pupils swallow the blood of his irises in the blue flickering light from the television. He is every inch the monster you know he can be. "Don't fucking call me that, woman," he growls into your ear.

You crumple to the floor when he lets you go. "Been too soft on you, brat," he toes at Nanami's limp form before stalking to the coffee table. "Gonna have to re-educate you. Lucky i don't just fucking destroy you both." He picks up an empty wine bottle and hurls it at the TV. The crash has you flinching as the screen spiderwebs and the speakers sputter. His belt buckle clinks as he unfastens it and your cunt drools like pavlov's dogs at the sound. You wonder if he knows how completely he has you.

You watch wordlessly as he pulls himself out of the fly of his jeans and pisses all over the flickering set. He turns his gaze on you and tucks himself away. The leather of his belt hisses against denim as he pulls it free of the loops.

"Now what am I going to do with you," he says, stalking towards you, one hand in his pocket, the other lazily trailing the belt behind him. The grin on his face is cold and sharp as a knife edge. He must be feeling better already.

He brushes past you and seats himself on the arm of the couch. Elbow on the back of it, he leans his cheek against his fist as he looks down at you. "Come here," he says.

You look over at Nanami's limp form. You can just see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

"Don't look at him. He can't help you. Never could. Now, I won't say it again. Come. Here."

You begin to get to your feet.

"No," he says, eerily calm, and you freeze midway to your feet. "Crawl."

"Come on Kuna," you coo, voice sticky sweet. "I'm really sorr-"

"Shut the fuck up. Nobody wants to hear your sorry's. Now get over here."

So you drop back to your knees and start to crawl. You sway your hips and smile up at him, ever defiant. He snorts and shakes his head. "You are such a little slut."

"Stand up," he says, when you arrive at his ankles. Even seated as he is on the arm of the couch, he towers over you when you obey.

"Strip," he says, then, "faster," when you are to slow to peel your clothes away. He leans forward and slides his fingers through your folds.

"Wet," he says.

"For Nanami," you retort, only half a lie. You are still mad at him, after all.

His hand flies so quick you barely see him move before the back of his hand connects with your cheek. Seeing stars, you're reeling backwards, but he catches you, draws you across his lap. The belt burns across the fat of your ass as he brings it down on you over and over in fast, hard bursts. Tears sting your eyes as you squirm and bite at your bottom lip, but he's strong and has little trouble holding you in place with his one free hand clasping your wrists together behind your back.

"Told you not to fuck with me," he's growling, and your pussy clenches around nothing. You wish he would just fuck you already.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you sob, "Please, please, please!"

Finally, he relents, the belt slithers to the floor. "Are you really sorry?" He asks, his voice softer now, some of the aggression soothed out of it by the burst of violence. "Actions speak louder than words, you know." You fail at biting back a moan as he suddenly shoves his fingers inside you, growling as he feels you clenching around him. "You want my cock?" He asks. Craning your neck you look up at him over your shoulder, nodding frantically.

"On your knees then," he says, releasing you.

"You're a sick fuck, you know," he says as you crumple to your knees between his feet. "Might even be worse than me." He lets his jeans pool around his ankles before stepping out of them. Grasping the base of his cock, already rigid and leaking, he smacks it lightly against your cheek, smearing your feverish skin with precum. "That's why he-" he nods behind him at Nanami's unconscious body, "-could never do it for you."

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, which you drag along his tip murmuring, "can you take this off too-" you tug at the sleeve of his hoodie, "-I wanna see you."

He grunts and pulls it over his head, groaning as you pull his cockhead into your mouth, tongue tracing his slit, the ridge if his glans. You know that he is at least partly right, you are sick. But you wonder if he brings it out of you. Could you be different with Nanami? You think of his mouth on your neck, your hands on his chest.

"If you want to see me, open your eyes," Sukuna says, something jagged in his tone, like suspicion. So you look up at him, run your fingers up the fronts of his thighs to the dips of his abdominals as you take his cock deeper. Your eyes follow the lines of tattoos outlining his chest until you find his face, jaw slack, eyes heavy as he looks down at you.

You release his dick with a wet pop, sucking in air. "You're perfect."

"I didn't say stop," he grasps, fisting a hand in your hair, using his other to pry your mouth open unnaturally wide until you are drooling down his tattooed wrist, eyes shiny with tears as you look up at him. He slides his cock between your lips, controlling the angle of your head with his hands, sinking in until your nose is pressed against his stomach. "Told you to fucking be home when I got home," he growls, smashing ypur face against his groin so that you can't breathe.

You sputter and gag around his cock as he stays fully seated inside you. "Ssh, ssh it's okay," he soothes as his fingers wrap around the soft column of your throat, feeling the bulge of his length there. "Oh, fuck, baby, you are really lucky you feel so fucking good, 'cause you really fucking pissed me off," he moans as uses your hair to bob your head up and down on his cock until your jaw burns and tears spill out of your eyes. "You really are sorry, huh?"

You do your best to signal in the affirmative as he continues to fuck your throat, but you find you have little control at the moment, so you just hope he gets the message. When he finally pulls out, and stuffs the strings of drool that stretch between your lips and his cock back into your mouth with his thumb, you nod, gasping. "I am. I am sorry," you manage to sob out in broken syllables around his prodding fingers. Although your brain is a little too wine blurry and cock drunk to accurately recall exactly what you're sorry for. And weren't you mad at him for something?

Your muddled thoughts are interrupted as he yanks you up and bends you over the arm of the couch as if you weigh nothing. "Tell me who you belong to, baby," he growls as you feel the fat head of his cock bully it's way between your folds from behind. "Because it seems like you forgot."

"You, I belong to you," you answer dutifully, drawing out the final vowel into a long moan as he sheaths himself inside of you with one hard snap of his hips.

"Fuck," he growls, twitching inside of you, "say it again."

"I'm yours, Sukuna," you whine, peering over your shoulder to look at him.

"Yeah," he moans, rolling his hips into you, his cock dragging along every tender aching inch inside you. "You're mine," he pounds into you faster, harder, pulling you back into him by your hair. "I'm gonna stuff you so full of cum, baby." He always talks so much when he's fucking you. Now he's babbling something about making you pregnant. You're too stupid with lust to even begin to reflect on what an almost comically bad idea that is, although you suppose you understand it. Another way for him to stake his claim. Then his teeth are bruising your shoulder, marking you, and you're arching into him, your walls beginning to flutter around the sweet, familiar shape of him.

He pulls out as soon as he feels you starting to squeeze down on him. "Want you to look at me when you cum," he rasps. You guess you know why. You make it a point not to look over his shoulder as he threads his arms under your hips, lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist before he impales you again.

"Oh fuck, Sukuna," you whine as he stretches you, a perfect pain.

"Say it again," he murmurs, pistoning up into you with more speed now, but less control as he nears his end.

"Yours," you manage to choke out before he slips a hand around your throat, stealing your breath, making your vision darken as you seize up around him, milking him as he spills inside of you. He is clawing and biting at you everywhere he can reach as he devours your lips, pouring a muffled string of curses into your mouth. You wonder vaguely, if any small part of him cares about you, or if he only cares to own you.

You are intertwined, leaning against the wall, twitching and gasping. You're too busy murmuring nonsense into each other's ears to notice when Nanami sits up and slides the remaining wine bottle off of the coffee table. The one the two of you didn't quite finish off.

You've got your chin hooked over Sukuna's shoulder, your fingertips tracing the circles tattooed there and he's panting, "I want to tell you something," when you see Nanami walk around the couch, holding the bottle by the neck.

"I don't know why I could never say it before," Sukuna whispers as Nanami raises the bottle. You lock eyes with him, but you don't say anything.

"I-" There's a soft thud as the bottle connects with the back of Sukuna's head. His eyes roll back as he falls away from you and hits the floor hard.

Nanami barely looks at you as he shoulders Sukuna's limp body and carries him outside. You are pulling on your sweats when he comes back, gathers the man's clothes and tosses them outside. You cross your arms over your bare chest as he walks past you into the kitchen. "Get dressed and get out, please. I'll get you an uber," he says, pressing a bag of frozen peas to his face. He sinks into the couch, wine bottle between his knees and uncorks it with his thumb. His back is to you.

"Nanami?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't find my top. Maybe you're sitting on it?"

He sighs and leans forward to set the bottle and the makeshift icepack on the coffee table. Then he's wrapping his shirt around your shoulders, it smells like the cedar and the ocean. You look up at him through damp lashes, bruises already starting to bloom in the hollows of his eye.

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks," he says before he returns to the couch.

Sukuna is standing, although weaving, in his boxers, looking dazedly at his pants when you shoulder through the broken door.

"Hey," he mumbles, stumbling forward. "Where the hells my belt?"

Nanami sinks back into the couch, frozen peas pressed to his face. Takes a long pull off the bottle before deciding that's probably not going to help much. He stares at the broken TV screen, the flickering bars of light reflecting in his eyes.

Maybe after he works this job a few more years, he could just start over somewhere else.

Like Malaysia.

Yeah.

That'd be nice.

#sukuna x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #fanfiction #jjk sukuna #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #nanami x you #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #nanami smut #jjk oneshot

117 notes · View notes

killerelysia · 1 day ago

Text

Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur!- Solivan brugmansia x Yan!G.N Reader! (Part 5!) {1st part)

The kid at the back is a 18+ visual novel Minors don't interact!

Words:10000

Genre: Yandere-(Self aware yandere won the poll)

(Reader is G.N)

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...

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.

This part will contain the Arcade Scene in Sol's Route so...Proceed with caution.

Mentions of Pet-names, Blood, (Implied ATTEMPTED S/A),

Obsessive behavior: The reader becomes dangerously fixated on someone, bordering on stalking and delusion.

Manipulation: The reader engages in schemes to control or harm others, often through deception.

Mental illness: Delusional thinking, possible dissociation from reality, and unhealthy fixation on someone.

Violence: There are references to bullying, physical harm, and emotional manipulation.

Emotional abuse: Both in terms of how the protagonist manipulates others and how they might internalize toxic behaviors.

Stalking: The reader watches and follows the person they are obsessed with.

EXTRA: He's a character from a game named The kid at the back!! Note, The relationship presented here between sol and reader is extremely toxic!! In no way, Just because I'm writing doesn't mean I support this kind of toxicity. Note, It's okay to like sol if you know the flaws and don't be a blind eye on them! Again, I don't support his actions etc! If you hate sol ignore this.

The school bell echoed through the hallway, signaling the start of the next class. Hyugo groaned loudly, stretching his arms dramatically.

"I don't want to go to class. I hate my History teacher almost as much as I hate my archery coach."

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Weird. Doesn’t George of the Jungle like archery?" you quipped without thinking.

Hyugo froze, his baby-blue eyes narrowing slightly as his pout deepened. "Well, that’s his thing! It’s not like he shares everything with his big brother, you know. But I’m the star now, Y/n." His tone was defensive, but the look on his face said something else entirely: How the hell do you know so much about us?

You didn’t respond to his unspoken question, simply smiling to yourself. Keeping tabs on the secrets of the brothers had its perks, even if you were cautious not to push any boundaries. They weren’t people you wanted to turn against you. Dangerous as they were, having those secrets up your sleeve felt oddly empowering. And with Sol on your side, you weren’t too worried about the fallout. Hyugo clearly adored Sol, and Sol? Well, he wasn’t letting anyone mess with you.

It was to make sure, Geo won't diss your ass.

"Why don’t you just skip class then?" Sol suggested, almost too casually.

Hyugo’s entire face lit up, his eyes practically sparkling. It was as if a literal lightbulb had turned on above his head.

Both you and Sol immediately recognized that look.

“Don’t tell me—” Sol started, but Hyugo cut him off with a dramatic wave of his hand.

"I am skipping class! That’s it. Fuck this school!" he declared triumphantly. "If they’re going to treat us like crap, we might as well be the bad guys. Right, Y/n?"

You sighed heavily, already seeing where this was headed. Sol mirrored your reaction, exhaling loudly with a look of resigned annoyance.

Hyugo leaned closer, his grin widening mischievously. He was practically glowing with chaotic energy as he nudged you. “Come on, Y/n. Don’t tell me you’ve never skipped class before. It’s a beautiful day to break a few rules.”

Skipping class? As if you’d never done it before. Honestly, you’d lost count of the times you’d avoided lectures just to stalk observe Solivan Brugmansia. And now? The man himself and his overly enthusiastic counterpart were inviting you to join them. The temptation was palpable.

It wasn’t just tempting—it was irresistible.

Hyugo turned up the charm, grinning at you like the devil himself.

His expression screamed to you. But you know he doesn't know.

C’mon, Y/n. Look at this—your dream guy, Solivan Brugmansia, right here. All we’re missing is you. Come to the dark side—we’ve got rooftop vibes.

Your lips twitched. "Stop reading my mind," you muttered under your breath.

Skipping class actually sounded pretty good. The teacher was dull, Crowe would be there—ugh, not worth the effort. You glanced at Sol, who stood quietly, waiting for your decision. His expression said he’d go along with whatever you chose, but there was a certain edge of don’t make me regret this.

Hyugo’s voice interrupted your thoughts again. "So? What’s it gonna be? Stay here and suffer? Or join us in sweet rebellion?" He leaned in closer, his grin practically daring you.

“Fuck it. We skip!” you said with finality, throwing caution to the wind.

Hyugo cheered, throwing his arms into the air like he’d just won a championship. “That’s the spirit!”

Even Sol couldn’t hide the faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He sighed again but nodded, his hand brushing against yours briefly as he turned to follow Hyugo toward the stairs.

Well, you were already falling. Might as well enjoy the descent.

"But how the hell do we even pull this off? Obviously, we can’t go through the entrance. The vents are blocked, and—"

Sol’s lips curled into a small smile, one so rare and heart-stopping that your brain short-circuited on the spot.

"I know a way," he said calmly.

Wah! Huh?! Ehh?! Your heart was practically exploding as your face turned a deep, humiliating shade of red. You could barely think straight. Sol didn’t even seem to notice your flustered state as he turned and began leading the way.

Hyugo, oblivious as ever, dashed ahead, his energy as wild as ever. If either of them caught a glimpse of your lovesick expression, you’d never live it down.

The path Sol chose led to the back of the school, near the edge of the gardens. Towering iron fences barricaded the perimeter, but Sol confidently navigated through the greenery until he stopped in front of a large bush. He crouched and pushed it aside, revealing a decently sized hole in the fence.

Your jaw dropped. "Wait. Did you… make this? Sol?"

Before he could answer, Hyugo interjected with a proud grin. "He didn’t."

Sol cast Hyugo a sharp look. "He did."

Hyugo’s grin only widened. "I did," he admitted smugly before dropping down and crawling through the gap without hesitation.

Sol gestured for you to go next, his golden-crimson eyes scanning the area to make sure no one was watching. "Go on," he urged softly.

Why is he so sweet?! you thought, practically combusting on the spot. Trying not to overthink his protectiveness, you crouched and squeezed through the gap in the fence.

Leaves and twigs clung to your uniform as you emerged on the other side, brushing them off as Sol followed behind. The three of you maneuvered past bushes and shrubs, the crisp crunch of fallen leaves underfoot marking your escape. Finally, you reached the pavement on the other side of the grounds.

Sol stepped forward and held out a hand to help you up from where you crouched. You took it, your heart doing backflips at the gentle way he pulled you to your feet.

"So, what’s the plan?" you asked, glancing at Hyugo, who was already fumbling with his phone.

Hyugo’s eyes suddenly widened as he stared at the screen. His fingers flew across the screen in panic before he let out an overdramatic gasp and grabbed Sol’s shoulder in a vice-like grip.

"SHERLOCK HOLMES IS OUT?!" he practically screamed.

Sol winced, rubbing his ear. "My ears, Hyugo."

"The movie’s out?" you asked, raising a brow. Then, with a teasing smile, you added, "Did you set the date wrong again, Hyugo?"

"How could I?!" Hyugo shouted indignantly before bolting off at full speed, leaving you and Sol behind.

Sol pinched the bridge of his nose, his irritation bubbling just under the surface. "For the love of—" he muttered, hands on his hips. With a heavy sigh, he began walking after Hyugo.

You trailed alongside him, sneaking glances at his exasperated expression. Sol looked utterly defeated, like a parent chasing after their wayward child. It was hard not to laugh.

"Why are you smiling?" Sol asked, casting you a suspicious look.

You shrugged innocently, biting your lip to keep from laughing. "No reason."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t press further, the corners of his lips twitching upward despite himself.

Hyugo kept tapping furiously on his phone, but as his shoulders slumped, you realized it—he got the date wrong.

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he turned to you and Sol with a dramatic sigh. Then, clasping his hands together, he pulled out the biggest pair of puppy-dog eyes you’d ever seen.

"We have got to watch it! Can we, Y/n? Can we, Sunny?" he pleaded, his voice bordering on a whine.

"I’ll pass," Sol replied, crossing his arms. "You can go enjoy the movie. I’m planning to hit the arcade while you’re at it."

Hyugo’s pout deepened, the sparkle in his baby-blue eyes dimming into a pitiful half-lidded stare. "Aw, come on. Don’t you like crime movies, Sol? Isn’t Sherlock right up your alley?"

You bit your tongue, realizing too late what you’d just said. That tidbit of information? You’d learned it from stalking Sol. The way his eyes flicked toward you with a mix of surprise and suspicion told you he’d noticed.

"Y/n’s right!" Hyugo exclaimed, unknowingly coming to your rescue. "You’re always watching those crime videos, so come on, it’s perfect! Let’s go see it!"

But Sol’s face was set, his disinterest plain as day. "I’m not in the mood for a movie right now," he said simply.

Hyugo groaned before turning his attention to you, desperation flashing in his eyes. "How about you, Y/n? Would you like to watch it with me? The ticket and food are on me, of course!"

You hesitated, glancing at Sol. His gaze was unwavering, almost expectant.

"I’ll stick with Sol," you said finally. "The arcade sounds like fun."

Hyugo raised an eyebrow before shrugging, his pout quickly replaced with a mischievous grin. "Alright, go on your little impromptu date, then! I don’t want to third-wheel anyway."

"Date!?" you sputtered, your face immediately heating up.

Sol rolled his eyes, looking unfazed. "You’re the one who decided we should skip class and do whatever we wanted," he said with a shrug.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it!" Hyugo waved dismissively. "I’m off to the theater, then. Don’t let me stop you two lovebirds!" He stuck out his tongue playfully before turning to leave, his laughter echoing as he jogged away.

Sol let out a long sigh, shaking his head. "He’s impossible," he muttered.

Meanwhile, you stood frozen, your cheeks burning. Date…?

Sol turned to you, ready to move on, but his gaze caught you fiddling nervously with your hair, fingers twisting the strands like they held some hidden secret. Your lips moved in barely audible whispers, your voice trembling.

"D-Date…? D-Date?! DATE?!?!"

Your face had turned such a deep crimson that Sol immediately furrowed his brows, stepping closer. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with genuine concern. Before you could react, his cool hand pressed against your burning forehead.

The sudden touch sent a jolt through your entire body, your nerves firing like a storm. You screeched, a mix of surprise and overwhelming emotion, and nearly stumbled backward.

"Y/n!" Sol exclaimed, his other hand darting out to steady you, but you quickly waved him off.

"I-I'm fine!" you stammered, your voice shaky. Your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. The thought made you panic even more. You reached out, gripping his arm with both hands as if tethering yourself to reality, and pulled him closer.

"Let’s just get going!" you blurted, tugging on his arm as you started walking. Sol stumbled slightly but followed, his face tinged pink now. He didn’t say anything, and neither did you.

But inside, oh, inside was a very different story.

Your grip on his arm was firm, almost possessive. You could feel the fabric of his sleeve under your fingers, could feel the warmth of his skin beneath it. It was grounding, intoxicating even. His scent—a faint mix of lavender and something uniquely Sol—wrapped around you like a blanket.

Your mind churned with chaotic thoughts, obsessive and dark but cloaked in a sugary sweetness that made them feel almost...innocent.

He’s mine. No one else can touch him like this. No one else can make him blush like I can. Hyugo can call it a date all he wants—it’s not just that. It’s more. So much more. He’s perfect, isn’t he? Perfect and mine.

Your grip tightened slightly as you walked, but Sol didn’t seem to notice.

But what if someone tries to take him away?

The thought slithered in unbidden, souring your moment of happiness. You glanced at Sol from the corner of your eye. His calm, handsome face made your heart swell again, but the fear lingered.

You tugged him closer as you walked, your pace slightly faster now, as if putting distance between him and anyone who might come too close. Sol gave you a curious glance but didn’t pull away. If anything, he seemed content with the silence, his steps steady beside yours.

He didn’t know. He didn’t notice the way your thoughts spiraled, the way your mind painted scenarios of keeping him close, of ensuring no one ever got between you two.

No one ever would.

The bright neon lights of the arcade's exterior came into view, their vibrant hues reflecting off the wet pavement from an earlier drizzle. You paused for a moment to admire the sight, turning to Sol with a curious tilt of your head.

“Is this place new?” you asked, your tone a mix of wonder and excitement.

Sol, standing casually beside you, shook his head. “No,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of his usual calm exasperation. “It’s hidden in the city. Hard to notice unless you know what you’re looking for.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And how do you know about places like this?”

Sol sighed, his annoyance barely masked. “Because Hyugo drags me to places like this all the time,” he muttered, his tone dry.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his expression, earning a small shrug from him. Without another word, he reached into his pocket and handed you a few tokens.

“So, which game are we starting with?” he asked, his crimson-and-orange eyes glinting faintly under the arcade’s colorful lights.

Your heart skipped at how effortlessly he seemed prepared. “Wow, you were ready for this, huh?”

Sol smirked slightly, his voice soft but teasing. “As always.”

Then, without thinking, he held out his hand toward you, not for the tokens, but for you to take. Your breath hitched, your heart thundering in your chest. Hesitating only for a moment, you placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours.

Together, you stepped into the arcade, the cacophony of beeping machines, upbeat music, and excited chatter enveloping you both.

The two of you roamed the arcade, hopping from game to game. Sol was surprisingly skilled—his reflexes sharp, his focus unshakable—but you knew, you just knew, he was letting you win most of the time.

When you pointed it out, pouting, “It’s not fair—you keep letting me win,” Sol’s lips quirked into a faint smile.

“Maybe you’re just that good,” he said smoothly, his tone making your cheeks flush.

You playfully rolled your eyes. “You’re such a flatterer.”

But then, in the next few rounds, something shifted. Both of you started losing games—repeatedly. It didn’t take long to figure out why. Sol was purposefully holding back, trying to make sure you won, and you, in turn, were doing the exact same for him.

Neither of you said a word about it.

Instead, you both exchanged bashful glances, silently acknowledging the unspoken game within the game. The warmth spreading in your chest was undeniable.

Eventually, you found yourself at a claw machine, fishing out the last of your tokens to insert into the slot. The machine beeped in denial, signaling you were out.

“Hold on,” Sol said, already turning toward the token exchange counter. “I’ll grab some more.”

Before he left, he pressed the remainder of his tokens into your hand. “Use these in the meantime,” he said softly.

Your fingers closed around the tokens, and as he walked away, you couldn’t help but stare after him, your heart full. He’s so... thoughtful, you mused, biting back a smile.

You moved through the rows of arcade machines, the excitement of the games buzzing around you. Your eyes scanned each one, but then something caught your attention—a claw machine, with a plushie horse sitting inside. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you remembered Hyugo mentioning that Sol liked plushies, particularly ones shaped like horses. Perfect, you thought to yourself. This could be the perfect surprise for him.

You made your way to the claw machine, carefully inserting a token and adjusting the joystick with precision. Your eyes locked onto the horse plushie, and you steered the claw expertly, watching it descend and grab onto the toy. Your heart skipped a beat as the claw began to lift, bringing the horse towards the chute. Almost there…

But then—SMACK!

A sharp sound echoed in your ear as someone suddenly slapped your ass. You whipped around, fury bubbling up inside you as you glared at the man who reeked of alcohol, his breath sour and sloppy. The two men flanking him were equally obnoxious, their laughter cutting through the air.

"Hey, beautiful," the man slurred, his grin crooked and nasty. "You’re looking a bit lost. Let me show you how to play the game."

The words made your blood boil. You couldn’t stand these assholes, thinking they could just take what they wanted. Without hesitation, you spun around, your foot swinging up sharply and connecting with the man’s crotch.

"Ahh!" He groaned, doubling over in pain.

Without another word, you bolted, your heart pounding as adrenaline surged through your body. You dashed through the arcade, glancing back to see the drunken fools stumbling after you. The guy who'd slapped you shouted, his voice slurring but still full of aggression, "Don’t let them get away!"

The chase was on, but you weren't about to let them catch you. You rounded a corner, slipping through a gap between machines, and immediately dove into the crowd of people. You kept your head down, weaving through the arcade, trying to lose them in the maze of flashing lights and clinking tokens.

The sound of their footsteps was close behind, but you managed to stay one step ahead, your mind focused and determined. You didn’t know what they would do if they caught up to you, but you sure as hell weren’t going to find out..

You ran desperately, your heart hammering in your chest as you darted through the arcade, weaving through machines and crowds, but the clattering noise of the games drowned out your calls for help. The panic rose in your throat. Where the hell is Sol?

You kept running, your mind racing for a solution. Your fingers brushed the glass shards scattered near a broken machine, and your heart quickened with an idea. You grabbed one of the shards, feeling the sharp edge in your grip as you ran towards the restroom. Your legs burned, but you didn’t dare slow down. You had to get away from those bastards.

Slamming the door behind you, you locked it as best as you could. But just as you pulled out your phone, your fingers trembling, you cursed—no signal. The frustration and fear made your heart sink, and your anger boiled over. Shit, shit, shit...

You leaned against the wall, trying to steady your breath, but then the unmistakable sound of banging hit the door. They're coming.

And then it happened—the door slammed open with force, crashing into the wall. The man who'd slapped you earlier and his two buddies stood in the doorway, their grins sickening. They were too close, and you backed up instinctively, the glass shard tight in your hand.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be, darling," one of them said with a slur in his voice, his smirk crooked. "All we want is a little favor."

Your anger flared up. A favor? You’re out of your fucking minds.

You swung the shard at the closest guy, the blade aimed for his neck. But before you could connect, one of the others kicked you in the stomach. The impact knocked the wind out of you, sending you crashing to the ground with a sharp gasp.

You tried to push yourself up, your body aching from the fall, but the man who had kicked you grabbed your arm, dragging you to your feet. "Come on, baby. You’re gonna make this easy on us, right? Be a good little pet."

The words were too much, the rage coursing through you. Pet? You’re gonna regret this.

You struggled, kicking out at the men, but your strength was fading, your body bruised and aching. With everything inside you, you fought back, pushing them away as best as you could. But your legs buckled from the pain, and you collapsed onto the cold floor. Desperation clouded your mind as you curled up instinctively to shield yourself, closing your eyes, hoping for anything.

Sol… please… The thought of him rushed into your mind, but the darkness surrounding you felt so suffocating.

"Hey, it's not a big deal."

You barely registered the words before you felt the force of the man's body jerked off of you, thrown aside like a ragdoll.

A sickening sound filled the room—the sound of flesh slamming against flesh, followed by another impact. The harsh noise made you flinch, your body trembling as you lay on the cold floor, the shards of glass still clutched in your hand.

"That's enough, Sol..." Hyugo's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding, but still there was an edge of worry underneath.

The sound of bones cracking echoed in the room, making your stomach churn. Is that...Sol?

"No," came Sol's voice, colder than ice, sharp with authority. "Not yet."

You couldn’t bring yourself to move, paralyzed with fear as the sounds of violence continued. Every punch from Sol, every crack of bone, made your heart beat faster—faster in a way you couldn’t quite explain. You should have been terrified, but part of you... part of you was strangely calm.

"That's enough, Sol! You broke his nose already!" Hyugo's voice raised, his usual calm demeanor cracking as he shouted at Sol.

But Sol didn’t stop. He was relentless, too consumed by whatever dark emotion controlled him in this moment. The thudding of his fists hitting the man reverberated in the small space, making you wince with each strike.

"Not yet." Sol’s voice was like ice again, his tone unmistakable.

Hyugo’s voice was tinged with panic now. "That's enough, Sol. Y/n needs your help."

Your heart skipped at the mention of your name. The icy grip of fear surrounding you melted for a split second as you opened your eyes, only to be met with the familiar sight of Sol’s intense gaze, his reddish-orange eyes wide with something between concern and fury.

He froze. His body stiffened, and for a moment, everything went silent.

The way he looked at you—the way he always looked at you—it wasn’t like anything else. It wasn’t just concern, nor was it just anger. His eyes softened for a brief moment, his pupils slightly dilated, his hands still clenched into fists, but now... it was like he was seeing you—really seeing you—through the chaos.

Sol kneeled beside you, his hand reaching out hesitantly. His fingers grazed your cheek, brushing away the tear that had fallen in the heat of the moment.

Sol quickly moved to your side, his eyes wide with shock, and without a word, he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace. His shoulders shook as he held you, his chest rising and falling rapidly as though he were trying to control his own emotions. You didn’t speak—couldn’t speak. Everything was spinning, the sounds of the scuffle still echoing in your mind, but Sol’s warmth and the way he clung to you helped you focus.

The man who had threatened you now lay still on the ground, a pool of blood slowly spreading around him. His goons were scattered around the corner, unconscious and out of the fight. Your eyes flickered to Hyugo, but the look he gave you wasn’t the usual playful kindness. His gaze was hard, his jaw tense, his eyes twitching as he let out a long, annoyed sigh. The irritation was clear on his face, but there was a sense of worry beneath it, too, as he looked at the mess Sol had made.

Hyugo finally broke the silence, his voice unusually flat. "It's getting quite late. We should head home."

He tapped Sol’s shoulder, prompting the taller male to pull away from you. Sol hesitated for a moment, his face burying deeper into your neck as if he were reluctant to let go. It was only after a few seconds that he finally loosened his grip, his hands lingering on you as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to let you go completely.

"Y/n…" Sol whispered softly, his breath warm against your skin. His voice was rough, like he was fighting something deeper inside him. He pulled back slowly, not meeting your eyes but still close enough to you that you could feel the intensity of his presence.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his actions—of everything—press down on you. He had protected you... in his own way. But you didn’t know what to feel, didn’t know what to think.

Sol's eyes were bloodshot, his face flushed—whether from anger or worry, it was hard to tell. But what was evident was the silent pain he tried so hard to conceal. His emotions had broken free, and now, tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have left you...I..." His voice wavered, hesitant, as he struggled to find the right words.

"Sol..." You spoke softly, gently reaching out to cup his cheek. He flinched at the touch, as if the comfort was too much to bear. The tears he had fought to hold back now poured down his face without restraint.

He relaxed after a moment, closing his eyes and leaning into your hand. He held it gently, as though he feared letting go.

"I don't know what I'd do if..." His words trailed off, the weight of his unspoken fears pressing down on him.

"It's okay... It's alright..." you reassured him, your voice calm, offering the quiet support he desperately needed. The atmosphere between you both felt heavy, yet there was an understanding, a sense of safety, in the silence that followed.

You held Sol's hands to your face, tears spilling freely from your eyes as the overwhelming emotions finally broke through. It was a short, breathless cry, but it was enough to shake you to the core. You felt his warmth, his presence grounding you as the fear and pain that had built up in you over time began to dissolve.

"Thank you... thank you, Sol..." you sobbed, your voice shaky. You almost flinched, not fully prepared for the rush of emotions, but before you could pull away, you pulled him into a tight hug. The weight of everything seemed to lift just a little as you pressed yourself into him, letting the sobs rack through your body.

Sol was frozen for a moment, shocked by the sudden outpouring. His body tensed, but then he slowly wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. His own tears continued to fall, soft and almost hesitant, as though he didn’t know what to do, but instinctively, he was there for you.

Hyugo stood nearby, watching the scene unfold. He was quiet, giving you both the space you needed. The tension that had hung between you and Sol seemed to ease as you held each other, though Sol's quiet sobs still lingered in the air. You could feel the raw emotion, the vulnerability between you, and it only made you hold on tighter.

the three of you stood there, the tension in the air thick and heavy, you felt the warmth of Hyugo’s hand slip into yours. His touch was gentle, yet firm, like he was trying to ground you in that moment, as if to reassure you that everything would be okay. But your eyes were on the plushie in his other hand— the horse plushie you had won for Sol earlier at the arcade. It seemed almost too perfect now, as if it were a symbol of everything that had happened, and everything that had changed.

You didn’t say anything about the plushie. You couldn’t. It felt strange to speak after everything, and it almost felt as if the words would break the fragile bubble that had formed between the three of you.

Sol, still lost in his guilt, stepped back. His gaze never quite met yours as he looked at the ground, a mix of regret and something deeper written across his face. His breath was shaky, his usual cool demeanor shattered. You could tell he was still processing everything, still fighting with the weight of his own emotions.

You were about to say something, Hyugo spoke up, his voice breaking the heavy silence. "It's getting dark now. We should head back," he said, his voice soft but insistent.

Sol’s hand, which had been loosely holding yours, suddenly tightened. You flinched slightly, surprised by how possessively he gripped you now. It wasn’t protective, not this time. It was as if he needed to hold onto you, as though afraid you might slip away if he didn’t.

You didn’t say anything in response. Instead, you let your fingers curl tighter around his hand, instinctively drawing closer to him. The need to stay near him, to feel his presence, was overwhelming.

Hyugo noticed, though he said nothing, his eyes glancing from you to Sol, as if understanding more than he let on.

Sol didn’t pull away, his grip on you more desperate now. His body was stiff, but you could feel the tremor in his hand. It was clear: Sol wasn’t just protecting you. He was holding onto you because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

Sol’s grip on your hand remained unrelenting, his knuckles white from the intensity with which he held you. It was clear he wasn’t about to let go anytime soon. Hyugo let out a long, frustrated sigh, his eyes scanning the surroundings before looking back at the two of you.

“I guess the arcade’s off-limits for a while,” Hyugo said with a hint of concern in his voice. “Those guys might come back, and we don’t need any more trouble.”

Sol’s grip tightened even more, a subtle growl in his voice as he spoke, “If they come back... I’ll give them more than just a broken nose.”

Hyugo chuckled nervously, his hands raised in mock surrender. “You're pretty scary when you’re like this, Sol.”

A dark smirk flickered on Sol’s lips, his gaze never leaving the ground as he muttered, “Good. I’d like to keep it that way.”

Hyugo shook his head, clearly trying to lighten the mood, but Sol wasn’t having it. He rummaged through his pockets, pulling something out before handing it to Sol. You couldn’t see what it was, but from the look on Sol’s face, it was clear he wasn’t pleased.

“I told you those don’t work anymore,” Sol grumbled, his eyes narrowing as he looked at whatever Hyugo had given him.

Hyugo rolled his eyes, looking unamused. “It’s because you’re not taking them, you fool. Now, take it tonight.”

Sol scowled, like a child being scolded, but he took the object from Hyugo’s hand with a reluctant sigh. He stuffed it into his pocket without a word, his expression darkening even further.

Sol slipped the small, plastic package into his pocket, the faint sound of the crinkling plastic reached your ears, and your heart skipped a beat. You tried to shake off the feeling, but your mind couldn’t help but race. The thought of the small pill container now hidden in his pocket lingered in your thoughts.

It must be sleeping pills for Sol...

You quickly glanced away, trying to push the unsettling thought out of your head, but it only made the darkness within you swirl more intensely. Sol... You knew him. His obsession, his need for control. You didn’t want to think it, but the idea that he could use those pills on you, to make you fall asleep so he could whisper his sweet nothings... That thought lingered in your mind, and you couldn’t deny the twisted thrill that sparked within you.

How cute, right? The thought of him being so controlling over you, his obsession so deep that he would go to such lengths to ensure you never left his side, even in sleep. But you knew better than to turn a blind eye. You couldn’t afford to.

You need to watch out for your food and drinks.

You swallowed the knot in your throat, the idea of Sol having complete power over you creeping up again. The way he was so gentle, so caring on the surface, but you knew better. You knew he wanted more, and you weren't sure how far he'd go to keep you close, to make you his. But it didn’t stop you.

You want to see all of his sides.

All of his SIDES

Your hand tightened around his, and despite the dark thoughts swirling in your mind, you kept your eyes on him, on every small movement. You couldn’t let it happen. You wouldn’t let it.

You consent to him, your body is HIS.

But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t watch him. Watch his every move, keep track of every little thing he did to you.

"Anyway, your place is just around the corner... You should head back as soon as possible. I'll be taking Y/n home," Hyugo said, his voice light as he tried to steer the situation.

Sol's eyes narrowed instantly, his grip shifting from holding your hand to wrapping his arm around you possessively. His gaze turned dark, a silent challenge in his eyes as he glared at Hyugo.

"I can walk them home," Sol's voice was low, almost a growl as he squeezed your waist tighter, pulling you closer to him.

You winced slightly at the pressure, a soft hiss escaping your lips, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth. The way Sol was acting, so protective, so obsessive—his possessiveness was palpable.

CUTE… CUTE… MINE... MINE...

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, your eyes fluttering slightly as they softened, the world around you blurring into nothing but Sol’s grip, his possessiveness. Your gaze turned distant, pupils dilating, heart racing as you lost yourself in the intense focus of his touch.

His arm wrapped around your waist tighter, squeezing you closer to him, and you shivered, a rush of warmth flooding through your body. CUTE… CUTE… MINE… The words reverberated in your mind, the pull of them drawing you deeper into the madness. His obsession with you was so consuming, so perfect—and you wanted more.

You stared at him with hearts in your eyes, a twisted sense of euphoria blooming in your chest. Each second, each possessive gesture, it was like a drug. You didn’t care how dark it was—this was what you wanted. You didn’t need to escape, not when he was right there, keeping you his. His jealousy, his obsession—it was all a delicious game, a dance of power and control, and you were more than happy to play your part.

Hyugo noticed the shift in the air, his gaze flicking between you and Sol, his usual carefree expression replaced with a hint of concern, though the look didn’t quite reach his eyes. Sol, however, was unwavering. The two exchanged a look—a glare full of tension, but neither one was willing to back down.

And you? You could hardly contain yourself. Watching their interaction, feeling Sol’s arm tighten, the possessiveness pouring from him, you were drunk on it. You wanted him to tighten his grip even more. To show the world you were his, that no one else could touch you. You wanted him to break anyone who dared to even look at you wrong.

Your thoughts spiraled deeper, you couldn’t help but press yourself into Sol’s side, letting him hold you tighter, letting the dark satisfaction flow through you.

"I want Sol… to accompany me home. Hyugo, you must have something to do, right?" you said, your voice sweet yet laced with an undeniable finality. Both men froze at your words, their expressions shifting like ripples in a storm.

Hyugo's brows furrowed in visible disapproval, his baby-blue eyes narrowing as if searching for the logic in your decision. Meanwhile, Sol’s face transformed. His surprise melted into something smug, his lips curling into a self-satisfied smirk, Cocky as he slowly turned his head toward Hyugo, his crimson-and-orange eyes gleaming with an unsettling mixture of delight and triumph.

"You heard them, Hyugo," Sol began, his voice dripping with false sincerity, though his amusement was impossible to hide. "I can handle this. I can walk Y/n home. Y/n trusts me. I want you to trust me, too." He closed his eyes, tilting his head slightly, feigning an air of genuine concern. But you could feel the smugness radiating off him, his grip on you subtly tightening as if staking his claim.

Hyugo’s disbelief was palpable. His jaw tensed, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, veins bulging under the strain. The corner of his mouth twitched, but he said nothing for a moment, the silence between the three of you thick and charged.

Finally, Hyugo sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. "If that’s what you want, Y/n," he said, though his tone carried an edge of reluctant acceptance. "I can’t force you."

You gave him a soft, almost apologetic smile. "Don’t worry, Hyugo. I’m fine with however Sol is," you said, your voice gentle but deliberate. The words hung in the air, a quiet affirmation that twisted the tension into something sharper.

Hyugo’s eyes darkened for a brief moment, but he nodded. Without another word, he turned on his heel and began walking away, his footsteps heavy against the pavement. You and Sol stood together, watching his retreating figure grow smaller and smaller until he disappeared into the shadows.

The air shifted once Hyugo was gone, and you felt Sol’s smirk grow wider as he turned his gaze down to you, his hand slipping into yours, possessive and warm. His grip tightened just slightly, and your heart raced—not from fear, but from the intoxicating thrill of knowing you had chosen him.

Sol rubbed at the lingering redness in his eyes, his gaze shifting to meet yours. His voice was soft, almost vulnerable. "Why is he so bossy? Especially with you… I always thought he was the carefree type. Guess you really can’t judge a book by its cover. Funny… that’s something I tell myself all the time."

His words trailed off, his eyes flicking back to the empty path Hyugo had taken. His expression darkened for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. You knew what was running through his mind. Sol wasn’t just observant—he was obsessive, possessive. He knew more than he let on, always watching, always waiting. It should’ve scared you. Maybe, once, it had. But now…

You found it thrilling.

The knowledge of his fixation, his relentless need to keep you close, stirred something deep inside you. It wasn’t fear—it was desire. The darker, twisted part of you craved it, craved him. You loved the way he obsessed over you, the way his need for you bled into every little action. You wanted him closer, deeper—wrapped around you entirely.

There was no love. It was the love for his obesseion

As if sensing your thoughts, Sol’s hand found yours, his fingers curling tightly around them. His crimson-orange gaze softened as his lips curved into a boyish smile, a stark contrast to the shadows lingering in his eyes.

"What matters is that you’re here with me right now," he said, his voice filled with a strange, innocent warmth that tugged at something dark within you. "Shall we get going?"

That smile—so deceptively sweet, so utterly his—made your chest tighten. You reached out, your hand brushing through his hair in a soft, almost tender gesture. "Let’s go," you murmured, your voice carrying a faint edge of something you didn’t care to define.

Without waiting for a reply, you led him forward, your fingers still entwined with his as your other hand slipped to his arm, holding onto him as if anchoring him to you.

If he noticed the way your grip was a little too tight, your steps a little too deliberate, he didn’t say anything. Instead, his smirk lingered just long enough to let you know—he was just as lost in you as you were with him.

He doesn't know but you knew.

"Please excuse the mess," you said with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of your head as you opened the door and gestured for Sol to enter. "I wasn’t expecting any visitors tonight, so it’s not exactly spotless."

"I don’t mind," Sol replied softly, stepping inside. Yet, once he crossed the threshold, he didn’t move any further, lingering near the door like a statue.

His stance was stiff, almost awkward. You tilted your head, watching him curiously. Why was he acting like he hadn’t been here countless times before, sneaking in and lurking in your shadows?

"Come on, don’t just stand there," you said, taking his hand gently but firmly, leading him to the living room. Sol followed, his hand warm in yours but his body still rigid. You guided him to the couch, nudging him to sit.

He hesitated for a moment before lowering himself onto the cushions. Placing the horse plush you’d won for him carefully on the table beside him, his crimson-orange gaze flicked toward you, unreadable.

"You don’t need to be so stiff, Sol. Relax! Make yourself at home," you said, your tone soft and teasing.

"…Sorry," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’m just… not used to being in someone else’s space. Let alone their home."

Liar.

You bit back a knowing smile, folding your arms as you stared him down. Sol had probably been in every corner of your apartment at least once. When he stalks.

"Not even Hyugo’s?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sol shook his head silently, his gaze dropping to his hands. His knuckles were bruised, faint traces of blood still visible from earlier. Your heart clenched at the sight, and without thinking, you reached out to take his hand again.

"Stop that," you scolded, catching him flexing his fingers like he was testing their strength. "Wait here. I’ll get the medical kit. And don’t you dare make things worse by straining your fists!"

"You don’t have to do this," he said softly, almost regretfully. His voice carried a tinge of sadness, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"My house, my rules," you shot back, planting your hands on your hips. "And I insisted on treating your wounds. So sit tight, no arguments."

Sol didn’t argue. He sat there, his body still tense, but at your words, you noticed his shoulders ease just slightly.

"Stay here," you repeated, your tone gentler this time as you turned to grab the kit.

You rummaged through your cabinets until you found the medical kit, a bit dusty from lack of use. With it in hand, you returned to the living room, where Sol was sitting exactly as you’d left him—his gaze unwavering and fixed on the spot where you had disappeared.

"Hands," you said firmly, kneeling beside him as you opened the kit.

Sol gave you a pointed look, his crimson-orange eyes narrowing slightly. "You treat me like a dog sometimes," he grumbled, holding out his bruised hands reluctantly. "But fine. Here."

You giggled, unable to help yourself at his petulant tone. "Aww, poor Sol," you teased. "But it’s not my fault you obey like one."

His cheeks flushed instantly, a deep crimson spreading up to his ears. "Y-you’re ridiculous," he muttered, turning his head slightly to hide his embarrassment, but he didn’t pull his hands away.

"Sit still," you said softly, smiling as you began to work.

Step by step, you treated his wounds. First, you gently cleaned his knuckles with a damp cloth, wiping away the dried blood and dirt. His fingers twitched in your grip, and you glanced up to see him staring at you with an unreadable expression.

"Does it hurt?" you asked, your voice almost a whisper.

"No," he said quickly, his gaze darting away. But the way his hands tensed told a different story.

Next, you dabbed at the cuts with antiseptic. His breath hitched, but he didn’t complain, only biting his lip and watching you carefully.

"You’re doing so well," you murmured, the words slipping out unconsciously.

His eyes widened briefly before softening, his lips parting as if to say something. Instead, he just nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Finally, you wrapped his knuckles in gauze, your fingers brushing against his skin as you secured the bandages. Every touch felt electric, and you swore you could feel his pulse quicken under your fingertips.

"There," you said, leaning back to admire your handiwork. "All done. See? That wasn’t so bad."

Sol flexed his fingers experimentally, then looked down at his bandaged hands. "…Thanks," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight of emotion that made your heart skip a beat.

You smiled, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his face. "Anytime, Sol. You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?"

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the room felt impossibly still. "Always," he said, his voice low and earnest, his gaze unwavering.

Without thinking, as if guided by instinct rather than reason, you raised Sol's bandaged hand to your lips and pressed a soft kiss against the gauze. The motion was slow, deliberate, and almost reverent.

Sol's eyes widened in shock, his cheeks immediately flushing a deep crimson. He froze, utterly unprepared for the gesture. "W-what are you doing?" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly.

You smiled softly, letting his hand linger against your lips for a moment before lowering it. "Just showing my appreciation," you said.

His lips twitched, forming a pout as he glanced away, his ears burning red. "You need to stop treating me like a little kid," he mumbled, the sulkiness in his tone doing little to mask his embarrassment.

"Do you hate it?" you asked, tilting your head curiously, watching as his blush deepened.

He didn’t respond immediately. The pout on his lips faded into a silence that spoke volumes.

You chuckled softly, holding his hand against your cheek. His fingers twitched slightly, and you could feel the warmth of his skin even through the bandages. Your voice dropped to a soft, soothing murmur. "Thank you, Sol… for saving me back there. For being there when I needed you the most."

You leaned your face into his hand, closing your eyes briefly as if savoring his touch. "You were incredible," you whispered, your tone filled with admiration. "You’re always so strong, Sol. Always there to protect me. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Your words were carefully chosen, each one designed to feed the storm of obsession you knew was brewing inside him. And oh, how he reacted.

His breath hitched audibly, his gaze fixated on you. His crimson-orange eyes were wide, shimmering with something between adoration and disbelief. His blush deepened further, spreading to his neck and ears.

"You… you mean that?" His voice was barely above a whisper, trembling slightly.

"Of course I do," you said softly, opening your eyes to meet his gaze. The way his face flushed, his lips parted as if he were about to say something, and the sheer awe in his expression—it was intoxicating.

He looked at you like you were the center of his universe, the very air he breathed. And you loved it.

He pulled his hand away slightly, but only to cup your face with both hands, his thumbs gently brushing your cheeks. His gaze burned with intensity now, his earlier shyness replaced by something darker, more consuming.

"I’ll always protect you," he murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. "No one will ever hurt you again… I won’t let them."

You smiled, leaning into his touch. "I know," you whispered. "I trust you, Sol. Completely."

The corners of his lips curved into a shaky smile, his eyes glimmering with devotion—and something even deeper, more dangerous.

You didn’t need to say it, but you both understood it:

You belonged to him, and he belonged to you.

You held Sol's hands against your face, your voice soft and trembling just enough to make it seem vulnerable. "You're the only one who's always been there for me, Sol," you murmured, letting your gaze lock onto his, wide-eyed and glimmering with sincerity. "When things get dark, when I'm scared, it's always you."

His breath caught in his throat, and his grip on your face grew firmer, as if anchoring himself to your words. His eyes were searching, desperate to believe every syllable that fell from your lips.

"I don’t know what I’d do without you," you continued, tilting your head slightly to nuzzle his palm, your voice just barely above a whisper.

The effect on him was immediate. Sol's entire body tensed, and a faint tremble ran through his fingers as he cupped your face. His eyes were swimming with emotions—guilt, adoration, obsession—all tangled together into something raw and overwhelming.

"Y/n…" His voice cracked, and he bit his lip, struggling to hold himself together.

You smiled sweetly, leaning forward just a fraction, your gaze never leaving his. "I don’t care what anyone else thinks or says. You’ve always been the one who understands me, who truly sees me. I feel safe with you, Sol... only you."

His reaction was everything you wanted. His eyes darkened, his pupils dilating as his breathing became uneven. His possessive grip returned, his fingers trembling slightly as if he was holding himself back from something primal.

But that wasn’t enough for you. His obsession was addictive, and you wanted to see more of it. To feel the heat of it consume you.

You let out a soft laugh, almost teasing, as your gaze dropped momentarily to his lips before meeting his eyes again. "You’re so good to me, Sol... so perfect. It’s almost unfair how much I need you."

His eyes widened, and his face flushed crimson. "N-need me?" he stammered, his voice trembling.

"Of course," you said, tilting your head and smiling like you’d just confessed a harmless secret. "Who else could it be? You’re the only one who’s ever truly been there for me. I can’t imagine trusting anyone else the way I trust you."

He swallowed hard, his hands twitching as if he wanted to pull you closer but wasn’t sure how much closer he could get without losing himself entirely.

And that’s when you saw it—the flicker of something darker in his eyes. A hunger, a desperate need to keep you as his, to prove he was the only one you needed.

Inside, you felt a surge of satisfaction. His reactions, his obsession, his love—it was all so deliciously intoxicating.

You leaned into his touch, your voice softening to a whisper, dripping with sweetness. "You’re all I need, Sol. Just you."

And as his trembling lips curled into a shaky smile, his eyes shining with devotion and possessiveness, you couldn’t help but think: Perfect.

You bit your lip, lowering your gaze just a fraction, feigning shyness. "I… I know it might sound silly, but after what happened, I… I don’t want to be alone. The idea of being around anyone else… guys, girls… it scares me."

You felt his hands tense against your skin.

"But with you?" You lifted your gaze to meet his, your eyes shining with unshed tears, perfectly calculated. "I feel safe. You're the only one I trust now, Sol. The only one."

He swallowed hard, his throat visibly bobbing, his expression torn between disbelief and overwhelming emotion.

"Sol… Can I… Can I stay near you from now on? Please?" You tilted your head, your voice trembling as if the thought of rejection might break you. "I just… I’m scared, Sol. Scared of everyone else after what happened. But I know you’d never let anything bad happen to me. Right?"

His face was a mixture of awe and something darker, almost feral, as if your words were wrapping around him like chains he didn’t want to escape.

"Of course," he managed, his voice thick with emotion. "You can stay close to me. Always. I won’t let anyone—anyone—hurt you again."

Your lips trembled into a small pout, and you reached up to clutch his hands tighter against your face. You tilted your head slightly, acting as though his words were an anchor for your frayed nerves.

"Thank you, Sol," you whispered, your voice breaking just the tiniest bit. "I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re so… so good to me."

He was utterly lost in your words, his gaze unfocused and dazed, the sheer depth of his emotions cracking through the careful control he tried to maintain.

You pouted, your tone softening further, almost as if you were the one being manipulated. "I’m sorry if I’m being a burden… but I just—"

"Never," he interrupted, his voice fierce. His hands slid down to hold yours, his grip firm but trembling. "You’re never a burden. Never say that again."

Your lips curled into a small, trembling smile, and you nodded.

"I only trust you," you whispered.

Sol pressed his hand over his heart, his voice soft but firm, he swore an oath, "Let me repay your kindness, Y/n... Let me take care of you."

For a moment, you thought he was about to declare his love for you, the words hanging heavy in the air, but his gaze shifted—soft and sincere, yet with a dark undertone that made your heart race. The way he said it, with such quiet conviction, made your insides twist with longing.

You opened your mouth, ready to dismiss the idea—I don’t need you to cook for me, you were about to say, but before you could, your stomach betrayed you.

It rumbled loudly, echoing in the quiet room. Your face immediately flushed with embarrassment, and you quickly raised your hands to your cheeks, hiding the red tint creeping up your skin.

Sol's eyes softened immediately, his lips curling into a smile as he gently reached for your hands, pulling them away from your face. His expression was so gentle, yet his eyes gleamed with that possessive, dark affection you knew all too well.

"Don't hide yourself from me, Y/n," he murmured, his voice low and tender as he gazed at you with that intoxicating intensity. "You don't have to be ashamed... you're perfect." His words hung in the air, thick with affection and something far deeper, a touch of madness lurking beneath the surface.

You couldn’t look away from his face, the overwhelming wave of love and obsession clouding your thoughts. Your heart hammered in your chest as your stomach growled once more, and you instinctively reached out to clutch your face, like you were posing in the way you’d seen in shows, but this was real, and he was here.

"Sol..." you whispered, your voice trembling slightly, "No cooking. You don’t have to do that."

But he didn’t listen. He wasn’t the type to back down when he had a plan.

He pouted, a playful, childlike expression crossing his features, and it made him look even more endearing—if that was even possible. "I want to, Y/n," he said softly, his voice now a low, adoring murmur. "Let me take care of you... let me make you happy."

His words, so sincere and desperate, sent a shiver through you.

With a final, tender glance at you, Sol turned and walked toward the kitchen. Each step he took seemed deliberate, as though he was placing himself further and further into your world, making himself indispensable.

You stood frozen, your eyes wide and heart heavy with a mixture of longing and something darker—an obsession of your own that mirrored his.

You blinked at Sol's grumpy face, his pout so endearing it nearly made you want to melt. He crossed his arms in that way that made him look both cute and frustratingly determined. "Alright, fine, I’ll cook for you."

He still looked a little upset, but his eyes softened slightly when you said it. "Okay," he mumbled, a slight pout still lingering on his lips. You smiled inwardly at how adorable he was when he tried to act tough, especially for you.

You both moved toward the kitchen, and you asked softly, "Anything you like? I can make whatever you want…"

Sol thought for a moment, his eyes flicking away, as if he were deliberating. Then, with a whisper barely audible, he said, "As long as it’s from you, Y/n…"

Your heart skipped a beat. His words were a quiet confession wrapped in a thread of possessiveness that sent a thrill through you. As long as it’s from me, he wanted nothing more than something made by your hands. The thought of him depending on you, wanting you in this way, made the dark thoughts swirl in your mind.

You felt the weight of the moment, suddenly aware of the kitchen, of what you were about to do. You hadn’t cooked for anyone before. Your mind raced as you stood in front of the sink. What the hell am I doing?

You were never the type to entertain guests. You were just a lonely little thing, someone who spent their time sketching, daydreaming, and obsessing over people like Sol. Did he really want this? Did he really want me to cook for him?

You felt the panic rising in your chest, but before you could overthink it any further, Sol stood up from the table, his movements casual but with a focused intensity. He began inspecting the cupboards, muttering under his breath.

"Your cupboards are pretty empty," he said, his tone casual but with a hint of concern. "No groceries?"

You shrugged slightly, not wanting to go into details. No groceries… no one to buy them for. "I’ve been busy," you said, your voice trailing off. You didn’t mention how you had been busy sketching his face, obsessing over him, imagining every detail of his being.

Sol gave you a questioning glance, but then he let it slide. His eyes scanned the shelves again, and then his gaze softened when he reached for something in the back.

"Not completely empty," he said with a small, amused smile. He pulled out a box of curry powder and handed it to you. "Here. You can use this."

Your heart fluttered, but it wasn’t just the fact that he had given you something to cook with—it was that he knew you hide that curry where exactly.

IM so sorry for dividing this next part will be last!

also, yes if it's not clear by now, Reader only likes his obsession on them than himself </3 i guess the talk abt crowe already made it clear

until next time

-ellie <3

#the kid at the back vn #solivan brugmansia #tkatb #tkatb sol #visual novel #tkatb x reader #solvian x reader #the kid at the back sol #sol x reader #the kid at the back x reader #tkatb vn #tkatb crowe #the kid at the back crowe #sol brugmansia #the kid at the back

110 notes · View notes

casuallyobssessed · 1 day ago

Text

Vicious Pastimes - Evil Robot Ted x Virgin!Fem!Reader ❥ 2.6k Words

A/N: Completely self indulgent fic. I spent a lot of time mulling over this. Sorry if it's a little weird. Let me know if you see any mistakes!

Warnings: Dead Dove content, dub/non-con, P in V Sex, minor character death, virgin!reader, graphic depictions of blood/blood play, mentions of violence, no use of y/n, no beta

Archive of Our Own Link

Blood is everywhere. Your hands are barely visible through the blinding red as you press your shirt down against the hole in Ted's chest. With your heart racing and hands trembling, you knew there was no way he could survive something like this, yet you hold pressure anyway. Sobs rip from your throat as you apologize to your boyfriend who lay motionless beneath you. None of this is fair.

Laughter rang out from behind you, cutting your mumbling apology short. You sniffle and lean back, smearing blood across your face as you wipe your tears away.

“Crying won't bring him back, y'know,” Evil Ted snickers.

You can't dignify him with a reply. Instead, you lean down and brush the stray hairs out of Ted's face. As much as the look suited him, you hated the fact that his unruly hair made it impossible for him to see clearly half the time. You try your best to ignore the now glassy look in his eyes. The quiet stillness, the unusually pale skin… none of it is him. Your Ted is gone. All that's left is the evil robot version of him that ripped his heart out, and will now, presumably, take your life, too.

“Dude, c'mon. This pussweed isn't worth the tears, you've got the better version right here.”

Evil Ted crouches down beside you, brows furrowed in confusion, like grief is a foreign concept to him. That's probably because it is, you realize.

“Will you just kill me already?” You ask him, stone faced.

“Kill you? No way. Why would I do that?”

“Why wouldn't you?” It was your turn to be confused.

“Wasting a babe like you before getting to try out the goods would be most heinous. I can see why Ted was so into you,” Evil Ted grins and gestures to your breasts, covered only by your lace bra. As all the adrenaline has worn off, you suddenly feel incredibly exposed as you're looking down at your crumpled, bloodied shirt resting on Ted's chest.

This isn't how tonight was supposed to go. You and Ted were supposed to have a date night; order pizza, watch a movie at his place, and you were going to ask him if he wanted to finally go all the way with you. As cliche as it was, you wore your best bra and panties to show off for him, not some evil robot version of him.

You fold your arms across your chest to hide yourself from his prying eyes as much as you can. Evil Ted's grin turns into something more sinister and you can almost see the gears turning in his head.

“Don’t tell me you're getting shy now,” He sneers.

By the time you can process what's happening, you're already being shoved backwards, not-so gently smacking your head against the kitchen floor. Evil Ted leans over you, arms caging you in on both sides. He stares at you, smiling in a way that doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Get off of me!” You pound your fists against his chest, but he doesn't budge.

“What did you see in him besides the huge dick? Did he at least make you cum?” He asks, ignoring you.

“Huh?” His question stuns you enough that you just look at him, dumbfounded. What kind of questions are

these?

“I bet he hasn't, dude probably didn't even know where the clit is.”

“Ted and I haven't had sex. We talked about it, but I wasn't ready.”

“Shit, does that mean you're a virgin?”

You nod, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep into your cheeks.

“Dude, no way!” Evil Ted's eyes light up at your confession, adding to your discomfort, “That's gonna make this so much more fun.”

“What?”

Evil Ted laughs at your confusion before sitting down on your stomach, effectively straddling your torso and keeping you in place. Something grabs his attention by Ted's body and he looks away from you for a moment, reminding you of your proximity to your dead boyfriend and just how alone you are now.

You're pulled from your spiraling thoughts when he reaches down and presses his hand into the stagnant puddle of Ted's blood that has pooled beside his body. His gaze bounces between you and the blood dripping from his fingers before he gives you another wicked grin. You can't imagine what he's thinking, but it can't be good.

You thrash against Evil Ted, but his strong, robot thighs hold you down while his thumb presses against your lower lip, pushing insistently until your mouth opens wide.

“Stop! Stop, stop, stop!” You cry out, but it falls on deaf ears.

“I love it when you fight back, babe. Gets me real hot,” He smirks and slips his fingers in your mouth. You gag at the intrusion as the metallic tasting liquid coats your tongue. Frustrated and enraged, you let out a groan as angry tears spilled from your eyes.

“You're pretty when you cry,” Evil Ted murmurs, “What does he taste like?”

There is an inquisitive glint in his eye as he pushes his fingers further into your mouth. Biting down on his hand proves useless. He is mostly metal, after all.

Your chest heaves as you sob. The last thing you intended to do was give Evil Ted exactly what he wanted, but you couldn't help crying. You've never felt so defeated in your life.

You were powerless to save Ted, too weak to save yourself, and losing hope by the minute. The entire situation makes you feel sick. From the salty-sweet iron swirling through your senses to the weight crushing your middle, your stomach is tied in knots. It doesn't help when Evil Ted bends down and removes his fingers, only to replace them with his tongue licking curiously into your mouth. You wonder what the combination of spit, blood, and hatred tastes like to him.

Evil Ted's hand starts to roam your chest, lingering on the lace fabric covering your breast. His fingers run along your bra until they find the center clasp between the cups and unhook it with ease. You're only a little impressed by how easy he makes it seem with one hand.

Trying to think about anything other than Evil Ted's tongue halfway down your throat, you focus on the way his hand grasps your breast. A thumb brushes over one of your already hard nipples, inciting a low hum from you and sending a warmth straight to your core.

Playing along with his weird advances hadn't been part of the game plan, but if it gets you out of here alive, it might be worth a shot.

“Fuck. Look at you,” Evil Ted growls appreciatively as he pulls away from your face, licking the remaining blood from his lips.

The last thing you wanted to think about was how disheveled you probably looked. Blood coating various parts of your body, puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks, all topped off with your tits hanging out. By the hungry look on his face, he clearly liked what he saw.

He confirms your suspicions when he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. His tongue circles over the sensitive bud sending goosebumps spreading across your skin. You close your eyes, searching for your happy place. This way, it almost feels normal.

At least it does until Evil Ted takes it upon himself to bite your nipple. Your whole body jumps from the sudden, harsh sensation and your eyes fly open. He looks pretty pleased with himself by the expression on his face.

“Seriously? Do you have to be such an asshole?” You huff at him.

“It's in my programming, babe. Now do me a favor and get on your knees.”

Evil Ted pats your thigh while standing up, allowing you room to move. You hesitantly follow directions, shrugging out of your bra while repositioning. The moment you get settled on your knees, he's pushing your upper half towards the floor, giving you only a moment to catch yourself before hitting the ground. Something akin to ‘fuck you’ finds its way out of your mouth before you remember the situation you're in.

There's a brief second where you try to lift yourself back up, but he's got a steady hand between your shoulder blades. Cheek pressed to the grimy tile, you come to terms with the fact that you're not going anywhere.

“Stay down.”

You nod. It's a simple command, but his tone is nothing like you've ever heard come from your Ted's mouth.

“Good girl.”

Those words spark an unfamiliar fire somewhere deep in your gut and a new, bright pink flush across your cheeks. Behind you, Evil Ted is making quick work of pulling down your pants for you, revealing your matching lace panties. His warm hands caress your ass, giving you an appreciative smack as he lets out a low whistle.

“The view from back here makes me glad I killed that loser. Dude had no business dating a babe like you if he wasn't gonna take advantage of the full package.”

You roll your eyes and wonder if it's too late to try to crawl away from him. Would you have any real shot trying to run away from an evil robot? Chances are you could make it a couple feet at least before he tackles you.

After a little bit of musing in your head, you decide it's not worth the off chance that he decides to just kill you out of frustration. Your main goal is still survival, and you try your best to remember that as he unceremoniously yanks your panties down your thighs.

His fingers find your surprisingly dripping wet center and his touch makes you gasp. You're ashamed at how your body has been reacting to him. You weren’t expecting to be turned on at all, much less to this degree.

Slowly, he dips one finger inside of you, and it's the most gentle he's been with you throughout this entire situation. He's met with little resistance on your part. One of his fingers already feels like too much and you're whimpering embarrassingly beneath him.

“How the hell am I supposed to fit my dick in here if you can't even handle two fingers?” He snaps, sounding mildly annoyed.

It's not your fault that you’re not used to this. You haven't done anything like this before. How can he expect you to be comfortable moving this fast?

After adding another finger and pumping them in and out of you briefly, you hear Evil Ted undo his jeans behind you. You turn and watch him as he shoves his underwear and pants down, far enough for his cock to spring free. You let out an unfeigned gasp at how thick it is.

He was right about one thing. Fitting him all inside you was going to be a challenge. You're hit with a fresh pang of guilt when Evil Ted lines himself up with your entrance. He eases the tip in, graciously giving you more than a couple seconds to adjust to the stinging stretch that brings tears to your eyes. It wasn't long before he decided he didn't want to wait anymore and shove himself all the way in.

“You are so,” Evil Ted growls as he bottoms out inside of you, “fucking tight.”

He wastes no time in pulling all the way out and

thrusting back in again, hard. Your body rocks forward from the force causing your arms to collapse beneath you, landing you nearly face first on the tile, again. You let out an involuntary, high pitched whine as he slams into you.

“You liked that, huh?” Evil Ted goads, gripping your hips tighter and thrusting in harder this time.

Your heart knows this isn't your Ted, but your body clearly isn't convinced. Clenching your walls around his dick and moaning his name was not sending the message that you wanted him to stop. You are taken pleasantly by surprise when he reaches around your hip and begins toying with your clit. Maybe he isn't completely evil.

“Beg me for it,” Evil Ted’s breath ghosts across your back, sending chills down your spine.

Okay, maybe he was still fully evil. You do not want to beg him for this. Saying it out loud makes it real, and you're not sure if you're ready to face that, yet.

With your lack of an answer, his touch on your clit slows down to a halt. The painful aching in your core is growing and you’re starting to think you really do need that release from him.

“Please?” You sound unsure of what you're asking for.

“Please what?”

If you could look him in the face, you'd be glaring daggers at him right now.

“Fuck. Please let me cum,” It comes out more like a whine than you intended.

It's enough for Evil Ted to take mercy on you. Teetering on the edge of bliss, it doesn't take much for him to shove you right over with a few more firm circles of your clit. You could swear you're seeing stars.

This isn't how you imagined your first time would be, yet here you are, letting yourself get wrecked by Ted's evil robot clone. Being disgusted with yourself isn't enough to stop you from completely losing yourself in the intoxicating euphoria of cumming on his cock.

While you're shaking, being fucked through your orgasm, Evil Ted seems to be following close behind you. His thrusts are getting sloppier, his breathing quickens, and the grip he has on your hips is sure to leave behind fingerprint shaped bruises.

With a guttural moan, he finishes deep inside of you. The good news is that it didn't take very long for him to finish, but now there's an uncomfortable fullness in your cunt as you feel his cum begin to drip down your thigh.

How does that even work for a robot? In all honesty, you don't really care. You're just glad it's over. The breath of relief you exhale is cut short as Evil Ted grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you back towards him. The sudden pain makes you squeak and jerk against him, but his grasp is firm.

“That was most excellent,” His sarcastic tone was not lost on you, “Next time, I'll totally go down on you. Promise.”

“We are not doing this again,” You scoff, knowing there's no way in hell you'd willingly do anything with this asshole ever again.

His grip tightens, yanking your hair again and hissing in your ear, “I could keep you here, y'know. Use you whenever I feel like it. That'd be a pretty sick trade-off for getting to live, huh?”

Not sure how to reply to that, you just growl at him. This asshole has a way of leaving you speechless in all the wrong ways.

“That doesn't sound like a no to me, babe.”

He lets go of your hair, letting you drop down to the floor again. There's comfort in the cool tile this time. At this point, you don't actually care what he does with you. After what you've allowed this robot to do to you right next to your boyfriend's corpse, you're sure that wherever Ted ended up, he's not too thrilled with you. You hope there's no way for him to know in the afterlife, but you've got a feeling he does.

#evil robot ted x reader #evil robot ted x you #ted theodore logan x reader #ted theodore logan x you #bill and ted's bogus journey #keanuverse #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you

24 notes · View notes

ghost-on-a-string · 8 months ago

Text

me when someone argues a bad take with an even worse take

#please get help #not everything is entirely subconscious bigotry sometimes people just have bad takes!!#just because people have bad takes about characters who are minorities #doesn't mean they hate the minorities??????#discorse #tw discorse

0 notes

soraya-snape · 4 months ago

Text

There was this HP creator on TikTok that I was starting to really like. But then she said that “Snape is not a good guy (OK kinda agree but the way she said it sounded more like “he is a bad or even really bad guy” which is obviously not true) and that he only tried to save Harry which was the least he could do” and this is the part where I was like?!?!?!

He might have started off only trying to save Harry (actually Lily at first) but then he actually tries to save the whole wizarding world. Like remember that time he told Dumbledore “Lately only those I couldn't save.” or when he tried to save Lupin at the beginning of DHp1 or told Phineas Niggelus Black to not call Hermione a mud blood. And let's not forget how he spied for Dumbledore during the first and second war, which is definitely more than the least he could do. I could go on but I think people with enough braincells get that he was not just trying to save that one boy but actively going against Voldemort's values and also kinda his own (or at least the once he was taught as a kid/teen). And like the example with Lupin shows also protecting those who, from his perspective might not deserve his help (considering Remus was a bystander at his bullying who actually had the power and the duty to stop it and also while mostly being civil towards Snape in later years still made his life extremely hard [I still love Remus but let's not ignore his flaws]).

Yes maybe he was a cruel teacher even bully to some of his students (we actually canonically only know of the trio and Neville) but at the same time also beloved and admired by some (mainly Slytherin but considering how badly they were treated by almost everyone else I actually think it's good of Snape to favour them especially considering what he went through during school simply because he was Slytherin. If you have a problem with that, perhaps you should complain first about everyone mistreating the Slytherins before complaining about someone treating them nicely, even if it is unfair).

But besides that his position in the second war (and also the end of the first one) on the good side is clear and not only to save Harry but also everyone he simply could save. And if you don't see it, maybe you should get your eyes checked, or I don't know...

#severus snape #pro severus snape #anti snaters #alan rickman #harry potter #hp tiktok #i was so disappointed #it's so hard to find people with working braincells on tiktok #especially with the marauders fandom growing #though i don't know if she is part of it #like i thought i finally found someone to follow #because i've been seeing a few differnt hp creators on my fyp recently who do some cool content but there is always something...#like one of them doesn't like tonks?!?!#i mean it's maily because she is such a minor character but still the disrespect she gets in some of the videos #so i thought this creator was different but i guess as someone who loves snape and tonks/remadora you simply can't win #little ramble because i hate it when people disrespect my babies #professor snape #the bravest man i ever knew #maybe these people should listen to harry #if it was the least he could do he wouldn't be the bravest man harry potter has known #considering there were so many people who went out of their to help and protect him

71 notes · View notes

phoenixcatch7 · 1 month ago

Text

The thing I like about my writing is that I never write a story the same way twice. Everything I write demands a different flow.

For example, of the two stories I'm writing now, one wanted present tense (which I am, it turns out, terrible at) and lots of Internet slang/grammar, and the other one decided it had to be made of very short snippets, with one or two longer scenes forming naturally and lots of run on sentences. Both of them I originally tried in my 'more typical' style and both times it failed miserably to click until I scrapped it entirely and restarted.

Ironically enough, the present tense one I'd been intending to write in more episodic bursts, and the snippets one is the start of a long and twisting story delving into deeper themes than I ever have before. But that's the way they wanted to be written! It's more thinking on my behalf than I might have wanted (I am truly fighting my instinct for past tense), but in return I'm finding a rhythm and pattern that's working so well!

I guess the morale of the story is that if you've just started a story or art piece or whatever but it's just not working out, try approaching it from an unusual angle, something you haven't tried before. Something about it isn't clicking, so try a new method entirely!

But most importantly, have a folder somewhere you can move all the little bits and pieces you made but had to take out. It's old advice, but the problem is usually further back than you think. Doesn't mean you have to lose your progress.

#writing #creative writing #fanfic #fanfiction #They're both crossovers of course. I do love crossovers. Reincarnation crossovers especially.#The present tense is mimicking the style of a comedy anime that doesn't really have much of a plot. It's very enjoyable. (it's saiki k)#The protag is a comedically op psychic in normal highschool. He gets into shenanigans his powers exacerbate and hates flirting #The whole show is his dry narration and I'm carrying that into my fic because it's a great fit for Sqq (svsss) and it'll spiral massively #With barely any intervention from me. Just slice of life fluff and flowers and Sqq trying to be a good teacher for his kids #The other is bloodborne and I've already killed wwx a bunch of times. He's very traumatised. He baby too. HIS narration is run on sentences #Because I've found it strikes a good balance between 'appropriately conveying gothic horror' and 'terrified 5yo pov'#And the short sections means I can run through a bunch of minor but important scenes without sacrificing pace and #It lets the world building happen more naturally as wwx learns about his circumstances #That and it balances the run on sentences because there are many and they are long #I can't wait to get back to my computer. I've MISSED writing but it just hasn't been the year for it

13 notes · View notes

uncanny-tranny · 1 year ago

Text

It's always weird when people are like, "Oh, you being [x minority] made me stop hating/reconsider my bigotry toward [minority]!"

Not only is it weird from the standpoint of "wow, you hated me?" but it's weird to know that you displayed some type of behaviour that proved your humanity to them, and that if you stop displaying that behaviour for any reason, it's possible they'll just slide back into their hatred because they haven't fundamentally challenged why they hated you and your people.

It's fine to grow out of your bigotry, yes, but I'm completely understanding of people being weary of those who are so brazen about how much they hated people like you.

#politics #ask to tag (genuine)#like i've expressed this before and it was like people were assuming i was ungrateful for their growth???#but it's like... /have/ they outgrown their bigotry if they're almost jovial about just how hateful they were toward minority groups?#i feel like true growth from bigotry is understanding how harmful bigotry is and how you played into that...#...no that doesn't mean groveling about your past and performatively 'apologizing'...#...it means challenging the beliefs you held and learning how to spot them if they try festering back in your mind...#...because groveling isn't the same as growth and neither is pretending like past bigotry is amusing or funny or quirky...#...in my mind both those thought processes still center the 'reformed' bigot and not the people they hurt and held bigoted beliefs about...#...i think both those things are selfish and show (to me) that they may well do still hold those same bigotries but they're hiding them...#...and it will only be a matter of time before that bigotry festers and takes its mask off...#...like that is PRECISELY why bigotry against ~bad people~ is JUST AS BAD as bigotry toward ~good minorities~...#...like transphobia against a trans person who is a terrible excuse for a human is still transphobia. it doesn't matter how bad they are #(just as an example of what i mean)

54 notes · View notes

lovinnelily · 11 months ago

Text

Y'all do know you can't make Jason be NOT white without changing his whole character, right?

For other characters, yes, because their physical appearance are not that influential in their story, on how they are viewed by people, on their personality formation — you can have a black/asian/indigenous/arab/brown/latino/etc Nico and yes, the hate he gets will have a undertone of racism but at the same time nothing significant on his story, motivation or personality will need to change. This is also true for other characters: Clarisse risks repeating the "aggressive WoC" stereotype but the character itself doesn't change.

This isn't true for Jason, whose main character trait is how he is perceived by others and how he showcases himself to others based on that perception. (specially with how little effort Riordan put on him besides making him perfect-er Percy who's somehow also weaker and less important than him).

Let's not pretend a black, Arab, indigenous, Asian, Latin man, etc, in the USA would ever be treated with the universal reverence Jason gets from New Roma, you can't have the illusion of perfection and most of all, of invincibility they have about him when you see him suffering racism or xenophobia in the middle of a mission. In theory, nothing in his life has ever gone wrong, that's his image, destined to be king, he is supposed to have no weakness on his peers eyes.

He is not trying to prove people wrong, he is trying to prove them right; he isn't worthy despite their prejudice, on the contrary, he only tried to make himself worthy to fulfill their expectations. He can't be a woman or an immigrant or have a visible disability or any other thing that strays him from a perfect ideal by western society standards, and be that same character.

#Different from the other white character in the series he was never questioned or doubted #There's a presumption of perfection with no exceptions that society doesn't give to us (women poc immigrants visible minorities in general)#His privilege (handsome white man with no visible disability son of Zeus etc) also prevented anyone from worrying for his well being #This illusion/expectation of him having no weakness/being untouchable pushes himself too far and clouds his judgment.#I headcanon he didn't even consider the possibility of myopia because that wouldn't fit Jason Grace Son of Jupiter so it wasn't an option #And you think it'd be the same character after facing racism? Because ain't no way he'd be praetor without going through racism #I think I'd love him nonetheless since I'm very weak to the whole golden boy tearing himself to save the world but it'd be a new character #jason grace #I know racism in USA is different from here but I know how different a “non-racist” white person treats me and treats my white friends #Also for him to not be an entirely different character if PoC would be incredibly disrespectful and racist on its own #It would fail to recognize the difference in how we are read (and written). I hate that a lot.#I remember that when Cody told Brandi “I see no color” she told him “then you don't see me” and that's so fucking striking #We ARE different. treated differently. if you act like you don't see it then you also turn a blind eye to the violence that comes from it #This is straying from my point I got a bit heated banalization of things I care about usually does that to me #Point is please don't change Jason on the very few things that man actually bothered writing about him #I actually think this is true about Octavian too. A lot of what he is allowed to do would not be possible if he weren't a white man.#Same for Rachel Elizabeth Dare. I mean you can work around making her poc but it will truly be pushing A LOT #Let's put it this way: a woc doing a street performance is perceived very differently from a white woman doing a street performance.#Specially in the eyes of cops #Pjo

28 notes · View notes

the-acid-pear · 7 months ago

Text

The thing about the painter analog that people don't get and makes them hate it is that at heart this isn't a serious horror story. This is pure gore not only for the sake of gore but for the sake of camp. Once I was talking of to my dad laughing at the guy who had his face sanded off and he was like yeah not new they did that in Jason already 🙄 which was later reinforced by UrbanSpook admitting this is inspired by those old 80s slasher which should tell you everything.

I'm saying this bc i saw a video pairing it with Playground and the incest game and while I don't know the second I watched a video on playground once and the difference is that that book is trying to tell a story and say something on top of the gore but the later makes it hard to care. Which is kind of the issue another "gone too far" piece of media my beloved A Serbian Film runs into where you cannot take yourself too seriously if you also want to show over the top violence or you'll lose the audience.

OF COURSE there are exceptions like Hostel, Saw and 😏 the human centipede ☺️ (cocksucker for that movie and it's more serious points, though it barely counts bc the gore is very tame save for in 2) and I couldn't exactly tell you what's the difference between what makes them work and what doesn't but still.

But I'm getting off topic I'm not here to say which media is good or not I'm here to point out the painter is not a serious story that asks you to care for the characters it's a over the top schlocky gore that asks you to go GROOOOSS or laugh at the over the top brutality it presents. Which is very standard in horror.

#luly talks #urbanspook #the painter analog horror #also yes actually I'll mention THC again bc that movie is deemed to go ''too far'' which is joked about often in its sequels #in 3 after the inmates at the prison watch the movie they echo the opinions of the public (calling the director sick saying he'd be jailed #etc except for my best friend who GETS IT and is laughing ILY BESTIE) and 2 is a direct response to the reaction of 1 #while 1 is an extremely fucking tame horror movie BY ALL FUCKING MEANS (1 surgery scene and its so clean. after that just a tad bit of blood #and some minor infection) they made a movie that ACTUALLY went too far #and i ironically enough hate it despite appreciating this bc it just isn't fun for me. because it's trying a bit too hard.#but in case you don't know. one of the links of the centipede is a pregnant woman. she escapes and gives birth in the car. baby falls on the #brakes. she steps on its head.#pointing it out since children seem to be the point ppl go THIS IS TOO FAR #i personally found the baby squishing the highlight of the movie. second to that is. the barbed wire rape #which i didn't like because i don't enjoy seeing women be raped in my movies but its like #so funny man. literally bro put barbed wire on his cock. like that's just iconic #what shit like this and the painter are trying to achieve is simple shock. and that's FUN.#if you dont find it fun that's literally okay it simply isn't your piece of cake but that doesn't mean its bad or it shouldn't exist.#like i still see ppl insult it like GROW UP... THIS KIND OF HORROR HAS EXISTED FOREVER STOP BEING SUCH A BABY MAN

7 notes · View notes

yesokayiknow · 8 months ago

Text

cannot believe that in 2007 the eighth doctor adventures writers just decided to put toxic yuri in their show. they did that for me

#not me going insane over 2 minor recurring villains #but literally what the fuck is going on with the headhunter and karen #what if an amoral assassin and a normal office worker decided to become partners on a whim & now they time travel and commit crimes together #like what?????#the headhunter could not give less of a shit about other people and doesn't think karen is useful at all and yet just keeps her around #and karen's like yeah she hates my guts and also she makes me kill people. it's a laugh though can't complain #and i'm just meant to be normal about that?????? huh???????#also the way they both just flirt with lucie every time they see her is so funny #karen's like hey babe!!!! how are you!!!! do you want to join us!!!! while holding a knife to lucie's neck shdjshs #while the headhunter's like ah lucie miller the thorn in my side [saves her life] this means nothing [saves her life] you disgust me [saves-#doctor who #big finish #i've finished s3!!!! whoop!!!!#my thoughts are why does lucie miller keep getting turned evil and can it keep happening bc it's hot. who said that #my only issue with this format is that it's very adventure based. which yeah it's called the 8th doctor adventures #but i wish there was more breathing room for lucie. the doctor keeps being all sad (fair his life is awful) but lucie's going Through It #and never gets a chance to really process anything #also the retroactive continuity errors make me laugh #'i'm 900 years old' no the fuck you're not! you still have the time war yet buddy!#i like to think they're just signs of 8's swiss cheese memory #i hope there's books set in this era. i'm sure nobody will be able to tell me bc they gave up 20 tags ago agdkhsjshsjs

9 notes · View notes

mermaidsirennikita · 1 year ago

Text

saw the "who's your most underrated Kleypas hero" question getting bandied about (again) today, and I must say, the only answers I'll accept are:

--John McKenna/Again the Magic (I'd argue that AtM is not the DEEP CUT newer Kleypas readers think it is; before I read it, it was definitely upheld as a classic of hers, but people who want the softer boys she writes in the Ravenels... may not like this one; however, McKenna fucks RIDICULOUS lbr)

--Alex, Lord Raiford/Then Came You (yes... he calls her a bitch.... and I'll be real this made me love him more... he carried her over his shoulder outta Craven's and bought her a bear I'm VERY confident in this choice)

--Kev Merripen/Seduce Me at Sunrise (thought he'd kill Win with his massive dick, tied her up and took her to his fuck cottage, is Heathcliff if Heathcliff wasn't horrible basically)

--Leo Hathaway/Married by Morning (fun bout wounded king, "haha" in the streets and "oh shit" in the sheets, notable for making Catherine ask him to touch her pussy in explicit and specific language)

#romance novel blogging #besides rhys winterborne............ ravenel heroes are kinda mid! i'll be honest!#'but what of five feelings tom' his book bored me i'll try it again someday #west ravenel is the greatest disappointment of my life #gabriel and keir struggled under the weight of their father's slutty slutty legacy #devon was fine. but only fine.#don't even talk to me about ethan #mostly bc i don't remember a single defining feature #i just think the ravenels is a perfectly fine series #but to me it is truly dumbed down kleypas #it's kleypas for people who can't handle sebastian kidnapping lillian #or derek craven fucking that sex worker #or derek craven doing a minor stranglehold on a very bad lady #or alex calling lily a bitch (THERE ARE REASONS)#or kev refusing to take responsibility for tittygate bc he was very down on himself and also bc his dick might kill her #or mckenna spending literal years plotting aline's downfall lmao #leo is honestly p normal but he WAS a sad alcoholic!!!#(never mind westcliff being like 'well she seems into when she's blackout and that's good enough for me')#i just think the ravenels was written with the idea of appealing to people who don't go hard w historicals basically #and that doesn't mean you can't like it! i like several! including the one everyone hates!#but even the ones i like.... aside from MW i feel like there's some magic missing #and i think the magic is a lack of inhibition #and don't get me wrong lol she published bad books before the ravenels #books much worse than the ravenels #but like. idk. i just don't know how you can read like the ravenels #then go back and read the wallflowers or DoY or AtM #and not notice... a quality difference

16 notes · View notes

kindnessoverperfection · 2 years ago

Text

I've found that, when interacting with others (or myself), it's useful to consider the lessons I'd want to teach a growing child.

If a child makes a mistake, I wouldn't want them to feel shame. I wouldn't yell at them, humiliate them, or in any way indicate to them that their mistake is a reflection of their worth or of who they are as a person.

Instead, I'd want them to associate the process with love and joy. If they say something that hurts someone's feelings, or otherwise ostracizes someone in some way, I'd compassionately explain to them. Ideally, they'd walk away knowing why they said / did it in the first place, how to handle similar situations in the future, and would accept the consequences (e.g. if a friend no longer wanted to hang out with them).

While the consequences may sometimes be painful, I'd do my best to instill in them that mistakes are human and natural, and that the process of learning from these mistakes is an opportunity to improve connections with others and express love.

I have a tendency towards excessive guilt. Memories in which I've said / done something ignorant or hurtful are infused with this guilt and shame- but ideally, I'd feel a sense of love and peace, and perhaps happiness, when looking back on them. Because they were moments of growth, moments I learned how to be more compassionate (even if the actual learning came years later).

So I'll put this out into the void:

When you make a mistake, that is not a reflection of you as a person. It is a moment in time, a moment which was informed by your past experiences. Humans are not static labels, or monsters in an RPG game. We are social creatures who live and learn and react and grow and experience and love. Be gentle with yourself and move forward knowing you're doing so in accordance with your values.

#parenting #internet culture #self compassion #i'd also want to teach them critical thought of course - there are varying ideas of what constitutes mistakes or ignorance or harm #and that's a messy subject which is often a challenge to teach and is beyond the scope of this post but it's important #to avoid being subject to manipulation or becoming reactionary #but anyways #to clarify something in the tags here: it's okay of course to feel bad. that's a normal response. but it's not necessary. and a culture of #shaming people for their mistakes isn't helpful in the same ways it isn't helpful to do that to a child. people become defensive and/or #self-hating. divisive and reactionary and more easily manipulated. fearful and ashamed and avoidant. afraid of disagreements or of trying #anything new. increased all-or-nothing thinking and blowing things out of proportion. it just doesn't help in the long run #sometimes when someone says something i want to express hatred and mockery towards; i think of my trans friend who's full of light and love #and compassion. who came from a smaller more conservative community and used to have some of those same stances (and may still hold some of #those feelings/anxieties). and i remember that i can be firm on my boundaries and spread love and acceptance and safety *without* spewing #vitriol at anyone who makes even a minor mistake. i want people who were impacted by oppression and bias to have space to grow and #find safe communities and be able to think for themselves. i dont want to push them away or be another person in their life screaming at #them. there's always a person behind the screen.#like that doesnt mean i have to interact with them. in fact in most cases it's better to step away. and there are still unsafe people out #there- but yelling at them won't do any good either. saw a tip to focus on the people you want to help rather than the opposition #and that's been super helpful for me

45 notes · View notes

killerelysia · 8 hours ago

Text

Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur!- Solivan brugmansia x Yan!G.N Reader! (Part 6!) Final (Rushed)-(Sfw!)

The kid at the back is a 18+ visual novel Minors don't interact!-(new tws)

Words: 10000

Genre: Yandere-(Self aware yandere won the poll)

(Reader is G.N)-(This part is Sfw!)

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.

Dubious Consent: Themes of physical closeness and intimacy while one party is incapacitated or pretending to be.

Dark Romanticization: Romanticizing toxic and unhealthy dynamics, including possessiveness and dominance.

Control and Power Imbalance: One character exhibits significant control over the other’s vulnerability.

You worked on preparing something in the kitchen, your focus wavered, and before you knew it, you accidentally called out to Sol the way Hyugo always did—“Sunny.”

He blinked, his expression shifting to one of mild confusion as he tilted his head. “Sunny?”

Realizing your slip, you quickly clarified, chuckling nervously. “Sorry, it’s just… Hyugo calls you that. I didn’t mean to—”

Before you could finish, Sol interrupted, his curiosity piqued. “If Hyugo gets to give me a nickname, why can’t you?”

The suggestion made you pause. A nickname for Sol? That felt… oddly intimate. But you couldn’t deny the idea was a little exciting. Your mind raced for something that felt fitting, something uniquely yours to call him.

“Pumpkin,” you blurted out, testing the waters.

Sol’s lips twitched into a soft smile, his crimson-orange eyes lighting up at the suggestion. “Pumpkin, huh?” he repeated, letting the word roll off his tongue. He seemed pleased at first but then placed a finger under his chin, his gaze turning thoughtful as he studied you.

“But,” he began slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, “don’t you think that nickname suits you better?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

He nodded, his tone calm and resolute. “Yes, it suits you.”

Your cheeks warmed as you processed his words. “It’s the nickname you want me to have, huh?” you asked, trying to sound playful, but the warmth in his gaze was almost too much to handle.

“It fits you,” he said simply, smiling as if that was all the explanation needed.

Your heart skipped a beat as his words lingered in the air. Of course, you knew exactly why it felt so familiar. Pumpkin. It was the name he whispered when he thought you were asleep, the name he muttered under his breath during those nights he lingered too close for too long. You bit your lip, trying to push the thought away before it consumed you entirely.

“...I always hear this nickname in my dreams,” you muttered absentmindedly, immediately regretting it when you saw Sol’s eyes widen in surprise. You quickly waved your hand to dismiss it. “Ah, it’s nothing, really.”

But Sol’s reaction was something else entirely. His face softened into a look of pure adoration, as if the idea that you might dream of him made his heart burst. That realization seemed to make him… happy. Dangerously happy.

You coughed awkwardly and tried again. “Alright, how about… babygirl?”

The moment the word left your lips, Sol’s eyes widened like saucers before he let out an uncharacteristic snicker. His shoulders shook as he tried to stifle his reaction, but within seconds, he broke into full laughter, clutching his stomach as he doubled over.

“Ahahahaha!” he laughed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Bitch! I’m serious! Stop laughing!” you exclaimed, your face burning with embarrassment. “You’re so cute—ahhh…” That last part slipped out in a mumble, but you couldn’t take it back now.

Sol wiped at his eyes, his laughter finally settling as he caught his breath. “I have no idea where you got that idea, but I’m clearly far from being a… babygirl.” He snickered again, shaking his head. “It’s cute, though.”

"Husband?"

Sol choked on his breath the moment the words left your lips. His head snapped to the side as he desperately tried to hide the deep crimson blush spreading across his cheeks. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t suppress the ridiculously goofy smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, god,” he muttered under his breath, his voice cracking slightly. “You… want to… ahaha—”

You grinned at his flustered state, deciding to push him further.

“Are you sure?” he stammered, glancing at you nervously. “Don’t you think people are going to, you know, take it the wrong way if you start calling me your husband, Y/n?”

You leaned forward, propping your chin in your hand with a teasing glint in your eyes. “I don’t care,” you said with a shrug, smirking at how his blush deepened. “But I think you’ll die of shyness before anyone else says anything.”

He inhaled sharply, his eyes darting everywhere except at you.

“I mean, you do give off husband vibes,” you continued with a giggle.

Sol’s gaze immediately dropped to his lap, his fingers nervously fumbling with the edge of his sleeve as he mumbled under his breath, “You’re killing me…Y/n”

You giggled harder, relishing his reaction. “Alright, alright! I’ll think of something else. But hey—‘husband’ would be so cute, wouldn’t it?”

His ears turned an even darker shade of red as he tried to compose himself, but he was clearly losing the battle.

“This is the final one then!” you declared with a triumphant smile. “Love.”

Sol froze, his entire body stiffening at the sound of the word. A visible shiver ran up his spine as his wide eyes finally met yours.

“L-Love?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, grinning like a cat who’d just cornered a mouse.

The tips of his ears practically glowed crimson as he quickly looked away again, twiddling his thumbs nervously. His leg began to bounce under the table, betraying the nerves he was desperately trying to hide.

“I’m… I’m alright with that,” he finally murmured, his voice unsteady but undeniably sincere.

You couldn’t resist leaning closer, teasing him further. “You sure people won’t take that the wrong way?”

Sol’s lips twitched into a shy smile as he took a deep breath. Then, so quietly you almost missed it, he whispered, “I wouldn’t mind, though… let them know. Let them all know that you only belong to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, your face heating up despite yourself.

You prided yourself on being observant—sometimes you thought it was a curse, noticing every little thing about him. But now? Watching the way his shy smile betrayed the possessiveness simmering beneath the surface?

It felt like a blessing.

"Should I think of something else?" you teased, tilting your head as you watched his reaction.

Before you could even finish the thought, Sol sat up abruptly, almost standing, his hands raised in a halting gesture as if to physically stop your words from escaping.

“No—‘Love’ is perfect,” he said, his tone firm but laced with a flicker of surprise. His expression was serious, almost too serious, but the intensity in his eyes spoke volumes.

A slow, knowing smile spread across your face. “Alright, Love,” you said softly, drawing out the word just to see his reaction.

Sol froze for a moment, his breath hitching, before leaning back against the couch. His body seemed to relax, but his eyes told a different story. They were heavy-lidded, clouded with a lovestruck haze, as if the nickname alone had sent him spiraling into a daydream he didn’t want to escape.

His gaze never wavered from you, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. He looked utterly intoxicated, like you’d just become the center of his entire universe—and you savored every second of it.

Your gaze locked with his, the lovestruck look in your eyes mirroring his own. It was intoxicating, overwhelming. The air felt heavy, thick with unspoken emotions that threatened to swallow you both whole. Realizing how deep you’d fallen into his stare, you quickly turned away, heat flooding your cheeks.

“I-I need to cook!” you stammered, desperate to break the spell.

You turned toward the kitchen, fumbling with your phone before pulling up a how-to-make-curry video. “Hey, Sol,” you said without looking back, “could you teach me some food art? Like those fancy lunches you used to make for Hyugo?”

Sol tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at your request before a soft, amused smile broke across his face. “You want me to teach you, huh? Sure… But only if I can help.”

“No!” You spun to face him, waving a finger in protest. “You’re injured! Just sit there and be cute.”

He let out a dramatic sigh, his lips forming a perfect pout as he leaned back against the counter. “Fine,” he grumbled, crossing his arms, though his eyes sparkled with amusement.

After a moment of gathering ingredients, Sol perked up and began listing off what you’d need for the curry. His voice was calm and instructive, guiding you with ease.

When you finished washing the vegetables, you grabbed the knife, determined to show him you could handle it. But before you could make the first cut, Sol was suddenly beside you, his hand gently covering yours as he slid the knife away.

“Let me,” he said smoothly, picking up the knife and turning to the cutting board with an air of effortless confidence.

“Sol, you’re supposed to be resting!” you scolded, but he ignored you, his focus entirely on the task at hand.

With practiced precision, he chopped each vegetable into perfectly equal pieces, his movements fluid and almost mesmerizing. He finished quickly, setting the knife down with a smug grin.

“Showoff,” you muttered under your breath, narrowing your eyes at his cocky expression.

“Oh?” His grin widened, and he leaned closer. “You asked for my help, didn’t you?”

Before he could say more, you reached out and grabbed his hand, your fingers brushing over his bandaged knuckles. “You’re hurt,” you reminded him softly, your voice filled with concern.

For a moment, Sol froze, his confident facade cracking as his expression softened. His gaze fell to your hands holding his, and something tender flickered in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. But he didn’t pull his hand away.

You held his hand a little tighter, looking up at him with a mix of exasperation and affection. “No more sneaky knife tricks, okay?”

He smiled—soft, genuine, and utterly disarming. “Okay,” he said, but the glint in his eye told you he was already planning his next move.

Sol sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re impossible. But fine, if you’re going to be stubborn, let me at least guide you so you don’t chop a finger off.”

You grabbed the knife, determined to prove yourself. "I can manage just fine!" you huffed, setting the carrot on the cutting board and trying to carve it into a petal shape. The result was… less than perfect.

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you—warm, close, and undeniably suffocating. Sol’s hands gently covered yours on the knife, his chest brushing lightly against your back as his breath fanned your ear.

“You’re too tense,” he murmured, his voice low and coaxing, like honey dripping into your thoughts. “Relax… I’ll show you how.”

Your breath hitched. Relax? How am I supposed to relax when you’re this close?

He adjusted your grip, his hands guiding yours with expert precision. “See? Like this,” he said, his tone a little too soft, a little too seductive.

You wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in your throat. The warmth of him pressed against you, the way his fingers curled over yours… it was overwhelming. You felt your cheeks heat up, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.

Does he know what he’s doing?

“Of course I know what I’m doing,” Sol said out of nowhere, very seriously.

Your heart skipped a beat. “W-What?!”

He paused, confused, then smirked knowingly. “I mean… I do know my ways with knifes."

Can he read my mind?

Somehow, under his guidance—and despite the mess in your head—you managed to cut a carrot petal perfectly. You stared down at the result, momentarily stunned.

“Well done,” Sol said, his hands still lingering over yours. “Should I show you again, or—”

You practically jumped out of his grasp, spinning around with a sheepish smile. “Nope! Got it! Thanks! All good here!” you blurted, waving your hands frantically.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your reaction. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind helping you again.”

“Nope! I’m fine!” you squeaked, your voice higher than usual.

Sol chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, pumpkin,” he said, stepping back with an air of victory.

Your mind raced as you turned back to the cutting board, gripping the knife tightly to ground yourself. Does he know what kind of effect he has on me?

You groaned internally, deciding then and there to never let him cook with you ever again.

You couldn’t meet his eyes. “No! It’s fine! I got it!" you blurted, jumping up with a Mickey Mouse-like squeak, hands flailing as if trying to prove a point. “I got it right! See?” You turned toward the sink in a panic, trying to wash your hands to do something, anything, to distract yourself from his lingering gaze.

But the thoughts swirled around in your mind like a storm. What was it about him? Why did you feel so... lost in him?

Why was everything he did, every word he spoke, making your heart race like this?

Sol tilted his head, frowning as you adamantly refused to let him help prepare dinner. “I’ll just do something easy then, okay? Like juice. No knives, no heavy lifting—safe and simple.” His tone was calm, but his persistence was unyielding.

You sighed, cornered by his determination. “Fine. Orange juice. That’s it. Nothing else,” you said firmly, though your heart raced for an entirely different reason.

Sol moved toward the counter, pulling out oranges and the juicer, you couldn’t shake the gnawing suspicion creeping into your thoughts. Why does he want to help so badly? It wasn’t that you didn’t trust his skills; you knew he was competent—better than you, even. But the darker part of your mind whispered something sinister: He’s going to drug it. That’s what the sleeping pills in his pocket are for, right?

You shook your head, trying to focus on the curry simmering on the stove. Still, your thoughts kept wandering back to the juice. What if he’s planning to make me fall asleep just so he can…

Your pulse quickened. The idea wasn’t entirely unpleasant, which disturbed you even more. Stop it. You’re the one with the upper hand here, you reminded yourself.

Minutes later, Sol handed you a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, a proud smile on his face. “Here. The least painful job, as promised.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, setting it aside on the counter. The curry was boiling hot, nearly ready to serve. You turned off the stove, setting the pot on a trivet. But your mind was already spinning with plans.

“Hey, Sol,” you began, keeping your tone light and casual. “Could you call Hyugo and let him know you’re at my place? You know how he gets if we don’t keep him in the loop.”

Sol raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Your phone’s dead, though.”

“Yeah, but yours isn’t,” you countered smoothly. “Just tell him I dragged you here for dinner. I don’t want him thinking you’re in trouble or anything.”

Sol hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Alright. I’ll go step outside and call him.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, you grabbed the glass of juice he’d prepared, a sly grin spreading across your face. Maybe drugged, maybe not, you thought, shaking your head. Doesn’t matter. Not taking chances.

You poured the juice into the sink, washing the glass thoroughly before retrieving a fresh batch from the fridge. You poured the untainted juice into a clean glass, you added a few ice cubes to ensure it would be cold enough to mask any suspicion.

“Let’s see who gets played now,” you muttered under your breath, giggling softly at your own cunning.

The curry was ready, the table set, and the replacement juice sat innocently in its place. You had one last card to play, though—a small vial of medicine you had tucked away. It wasn’t a sedative exactly, but it would mimic the effects, making you feel tired without fully knocking you out. Perfect for your plan.

You dropped a dose into the “safe” glass of juice you’d prepared for yourself. You needed to stay just awake enough to watch Sol’s reaction, to see the cracks in his perfect facade when he thought you were asleep.

Let’s see your demons come out, Sol.

The door opened, and Sol returned, his expression softening as he saw the table set. “Hyugo says hi,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“Great,” you replied, motioning for him to sit.

The warmth of the curry lingered on your tongue as you took another bite, humming in delight. Across the table, Sol chuckled softly, savoring his own meal with a small, content smile.

"You should write down the spices you had me add," you said, swirling the remnants of your curry around with your spoon. "I didn’t think this would turn out so good."

"Really?" Sol’s eyes sparkled. "You did most of the work. I just pointed a few things out."

He leaned back, his movements relaxed, yet there was a subtle tension in his frame—like a predator watching its prey.

The conversation drifted to food, and Sol offered casually, "I could send you some of my favorite recipes if you ever want to try making them."

"Yeah, I'd like that," you murmured, smiling faintly.

As the room fell into a quiet rhythm, your thoughts wandered, drawn to him. His presence today had been... overwhelming. From the moment he protected you to cooking beside you in the kitchen, Sol had wormed his way into your life in ways that felt far too intimate. It wasn’t just comfort; it was something deeper, darker.

It felt domestic.

It felt... right.

The thought sent a twisted thrill racing through your veins, like an itch you couldn’t scratch. You glanced at Sol, who was casually sipping his juice, his eyes flicking to yours every so often.

You tilted your head back, chugging the last of the orange juice in a single gulp. Sol raised an eyebrow at you, amused, but there was something sharp in his gaze, something that made your pulse quicken.

Your breath hitched. The room seemed warmer than before.

What if he did drug it? The idea had been lurking in the back of your mind all night, and now, with every sluggish beat of your heart, you were almost sure.

And yet...

You didn’t feel fear. You felt exhilaration.

Your mind spiraled. Would he take care of me if I passed out? Would he carry me to my room? Or would I wake up to something... darker? Would I see that beautiful, unhinged side of him fully unleashed?

The weight of your eyelids began to drag, and you couldn’t stop the lazy smile creeping onto your lips.

"What time is it?" you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

"8:45," Sol replied, his voice smooth but low—almost teasing.

You blinked at him, your vision blurring slightly. Your heart raced even as your body started to betray you. You had overdone it on the dose; the sleepy effects were hitting faster than expected.

"I’ve taken too much of your time, Lo—Sol." You let out a yawn, barely able to hold back a crazed little laugh at how this was all unfolding. "You... should go home. Right? There’s class tomorrow."

Sol’s expression softened, his smile laced with something... dangerous. His eyes burned with an intensity that made your stomach twist—half fear, half desire.

"No need to worry about me," he said, leaning in slightly. "I’m happy you let me in. Happy you trusted me enough to treat my wounds, to share dinner." His words dripped with sincerity, but his gaze... his gaze was anything but innocent.

You tried to lift a hand to his face, to cup his cheek, but your vision swam. There were three of him now, all staring at you, all wearing the same soft, deranged smile.

"You seem tired, pumpkin," Sol whispered

Your heart stuttered, a crazed, heady feeling overtaking you. This is it. This is what I wanted. Show me more of you, Sol.

"It’s fine," you mumbled, your words slurred. "Just let me get you... something. You need to g-go home, right?"

The glass slipped from your fingers, shattering against the floor. The sound was distant, muffled, like it came from another world.

And then you saw it.

Sol’s smile stretched wider, darker, and his eyes gleamed with an obsession so raw it almost brought you to tears.

God, I love this. You thought, the corners of your lips twitching into the barest of smirks as your body gave in to the drowsiness.

Just before your vision faded, you caught the glint of his teeth as he whispered something you couldn’t quite make out.

It didn’t matter.

You wanted it.

Beyond your hazy, blurred vision, you caught the faint movement of Sol's smile—serene, calm, yet undeniably dark. His hand pushed away the untouched glass of orange juice, his fingers lingering as if mocking your little game.

You sly bastard, your mind whispered, every word tinged with a delirious, obsessive warmth. God, fuck you... fuck you... I love you.

Your senses still clung to you, though your body betrayed the act. You were awake—barely. Every sound, every tiny motion, was amplified in the fog of your mind. You could hear him move closer, the scrape of his chair on the floor, the soft crunch of glass underfoot as he stepped toward the sink.

You wanted to laugh, but you couldn't. He knows... maybe not all of it, but enough. Oh, Sol... you brilliant, twisted soul. Take me.

He turned toward the pitcher of orange juice and the abandoned glass, his gaze unreadable. The slight crunch of a packet in his pocket caught your ears, the sound piercing through the fog like a whisper meant only for you.. those pills. So that’s your game. Were you going to play me, Sol? Or were you testing me?

The thought burned into your chest, clawing its way into your obsessive thoughts.

It doesn’t matter. You stayed, didn’t you? You’re still here... with me. God, I’ll let you win this game if you want, just don’t stop playing with me.

You felt his hands—steady, firm—on your shoulders. His touch was everything. Comforting. Possessive. Sinister. His breath, warm against your neck, sent shivers down your spine.

You’re tasting me already, aren’t you? Savoring me.

He inhaled deeply, the sound deliberate, almost indulgent, as if he couldn’t help himself. The soft tremor that followed made your heart leap even in your lethargic haze.

You wanted to moan. But you couldn’t. All you could do was feel.

His voice broke the silence, soft and low, dripping with tenderness and control.

"Let’s get you to bed, pumpkin."

Your thoughts spiraled. Pumpkin. That name again... it’s mine, isn’t it? Yours. Ours. Say it again. Say it when you think I’m not listening. Say it while you’re watching me.

He slipped an arm beneath your legs and the other behind your back, lifting you with a gentleness that made your skin ache. His strength surprised you, even through his bandaged wounds. He carried you like you were precious. Fragile. His spouse

Your heart hammered, your chest heavy with a love so twisted it felt like it would tear you apart.

This is what I wanted. This is what I fucking dreamed of. Take me, Sol. I don’t care what it looks like. I don’t care what you do. Just don’t leave. Don’t leave me alone. You’re mine as much as I’m yours. I’ll make you see that someday. I’ll show you... no one else can give you this.

You felt the rhythmic sway of his steps as he carried you toward your room, his lips moving softly—words you couldn’t quite catch but that you knew were meant for you.

What are you saying, Sol? Sweet nothings? Promises? Confessions? Tell me. Tell me everything. Tell me while you think I can’t hear. I want to live in your darkness... drown in it. You’re perfect. You’re mine.

He laid you down gently, his hands lingering just a little too long as he adjusted you on the bed.

Sol, Sol, Sol... touch me more. Just a little more. Show me everything. Don’t stop now... don’t ever stop.

You felt the covers pulled over you, the fabric brushing against your skin. His fingers brushed against your temple, lingering, soft but firm.

"Heh... Hahaha... Hahahahaha." Sol's laughter rang out, soft but unhinged, dripping with the kind of madness that sent chills down your spine and heat rushing to your cheeks.

Oh god, you whispered in your mind, trying to steady the storm of emotions coursing through you.

You didn’t know anymore—was it his broken, chaotic soul you loved, or was it just him, the entirety of him, darkness and all?

"Oh, my darling Y/N," Sol purred, his voice a velvety mix of affection and possession, "I feel so flattered that you trust me so, so much."

You giggled silently to yourself. Trust? Oh, Sol... if only you knew the truth. You’d watched him for months, hadn’t you? Studied him from afar, noted every habit, every nuance. You’d been drawn to him long before this moment, long before he thought he had won you.

“Despite meeting me yesterday,” he continued, his tone softening but not losing its edge, “isn’t this proof enough? Proof that you’re meant to be mine, as I was always meant to be yours?”

Your breath hitched. God, the way he spoke, the way his words dug under your skin and coiled around your heart like a vice. You were his... but oh, Sol, how little he knew. You were already more his than he could ever realize.

Your thoughts betrayed you. I want to drown in you, Sol. Kiss you until we’re both breathless. Draw your face over and over, photograph every moment of your obsession, and immortalize it in my mind forever.

He shifted closer, his wicked grin evident even without looking. You felt his breath against your neck, hot and electric, his arms tightening possessively around you. His head rested against your chest, and your traitorous heart thudded faster. You could feel him smiling against your skin.

"Your soul resonates with mine," he whispered, his voice a low hum that made your blood race. “I can hear it, feel it, see it in the way you linger even in your dreams.”

God, you were burning alive. You could barely keep your thoughts contained. Sol, you’re driving me mad. How can I keep pretending? I want to turn over, look at you, and devour the chaos in your eyes.

Sol snuggled even closer, practically merging with you as his body molded against yours. “I love you so much, Y/N,” he murmured, his lips brushing faintly against your ear. “I want you to realize it, deep in your soul. I want your heart to sing mine’s name. I know it’ll take time... but I’m growing impatient, sweetheart.”

You nearly whimpered, biting down the sound before it could escape. Your pulse betrayed you again, hammering wildly in your chest. He heard it. Oh, you knew he heard it.

His voice dipped lower, as if to himself, but you caught every word. "When will you realize?"

You almost broke then and there, your thoughts screaming. I do, Sol. I do realize. I know exactly what we are, what we’re becoming. You’re chaos and obsession, and I’m the fool who craves it all.

But instead, you stayed silent, pretending to sleep, letting him believe you were entirely under his spell. All the while, you simmered with a deranged kind of love that mirrored his own. You wanted him. God, you wanted him. And soon, you’d let him know just how much.

Your body lay still, but inside, you were burning with a dangerous desire. You had to keep pretending, keep playing this game of sweet dreams and soft whispers, while your mind spun in wicked thoughts of Sol and everything you wanted to do to him.

"Sol... Sol..." you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, your voice soft and dreamy, like a confession in the night.

He froze, his heart leaping in his chest at the sound of his name on your lips. His breath hitched as his mind scrambled, unsure if you were truly asleep or if this was some kind of delicious tease. His arms tightened around you instinctively, and you felt the sudden heat of his body pressing into yours.

You let out a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh, as if lost in a dream. "Sol..." you whispered again, dragging it out just enough to make him crave more.

His face was burning now, the heat of his blush almost suffocating. He couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto his lips, the kind of smile that was both pure adoration and a little bit dangerous. He believed it — every word you said, every whisper. In his mind, this was confirmation, this was what he had been waiting for, that you truly desired him, just as much as he desired you.

So cute, he thought, watching your lips curl into a peaceful, dreamy expression. It was enough to drive him wild with longing. The way you whispered his name — you were playing, teasing him, and it was the most intoxicating thing he'd ever heard.

"God..." he muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse. He felt a tremble run through his body as his grip on you tightened again.

You could hear him, feel his heartbeat picking up as he fought to keep his composure. But you could tell. His weakness was your touch, your words, your presence. The way you acted like a dreamer in his arms, how you whispered his name as though you were lost in the warmth of him.

It was all too much for him to bear. His face burned with a blush that he couldn’t hide, his breath growing shallow as he fought against the overwhelming urge to pull you even closer.

Sol's breath trembled as he watched your peaceful expression, your lips softly parted, whispering his name again, and again. His chest tightened with something deep, primal, like a yearning that refused to be ignored.

"Dreaming about me..." he murmured, his voice thick with longing, almost trembling with the raw emotion he couldn't hide. His lips quivered as if they couldn't contain the truth he felt deep inside. "Ah... Darling, do you love me too?"

His words were low, quiet—he thought you were still asleep, your body gently relaxed in his arms. He didn’t want to disturb you, didn’t want to force an answer. But deep down, he needed to hear it. He needed confirmation that you felt the same way he did.

His heart pounded as he looked at you, as though you were everything he could ever dream of. He felt weak under the weight of his own desire and affection. He whispered again, voice barely a breath, "I need you to know... I love you so much, Y/N."

The tears that welled in his eyes were a sign of how deeply he cared, how completely he was consumed by you. It was more than obsession. It was devotion, twisted with a dark desire. He didn’t realize that he was slowly losing control, his emotions getting the better of him.

He pulled you a little closer, burying his face in your hair, his breath hitching. "You're mine, Y/N. No one else." His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his possessiveness, but also with a tenderness he only allowed himself to feel in this moment with you.

he held you tighter, his lips kissed the top of your head, lingering for a moment, his tears mixing with his whispered confession. "I just want you to know... You’re everything to me, darling." He paused, his voice shaking as he waited for a response he didn't expect, but desperately craved.

Sol’s breath hitched as he rifled through your closet, his hands trembling with excitement as he pulled out pieces of clothing he planned to steal some clothing... A piece of you he could keep close, something only he could touch. He grinned to himself, the thought of having you so wrapped around him, even in your absence, sending waves of pleasure through his chest.

He leaned in, placing a soft kiss on your cheek, his lips lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. "I'll be right back," he whispered, his voice thick with affection, as he turned to continue his search.

You lay there, eyes closed, pretending to be asleep, feeling the exhaustion settling deep into your bones. The warmth of his embrace was comforting, but you knew what he wanted—what he always wanted. You felt your thoughts swirl in that dangerous, delicious obsession, but you couldn’t stop it. Not now.

Sol's arms clung to one of your oversized sweaters as he nuzzled his face into the fabric, inhaling your scent like it was his lifeline. His smile was lazy, lovesick, almost deranged in its intensity. After kissing your cheek and whispering, "I'll be right back, darling," he slipped into your closet, leaving you lying there in feigned sleep.

You barely moved, too torn between exhaustion and the thrill of what you knew he was doing. Sol rummaging through your things was almost too perfect a scenario, one you'd dreamed of before, but tonight it was real.

Inside the closet, Sol's hands moved with almost reverent care as he touched your clothes, holding each piece as though it were sacred. A gleam of mischief lit up his heterochromatic eyes when he decided to "borrow" one of your hoodies. for him to hug.

Then, something caught his eye. A box tucked into the corner of the closet, partially hidden beneath a blanket. Curiosity burned brighter than caution as he crouched down and pulled it into the dim light. His hands were trembling as he opened the lid.

And then... his world shifted.

Photos of him—and Hyugo. Some candid, others blurry as though taken from a distance. Sketches, endless sketches of his face in varying poses, from loving to enraged to serene. Notes and details scribbled in the margins, every single one obsessively accurate.

Bandages. A pencil he hadn’t even realized you’d taken—one he'd lost just days ago. A button from his sweater.

And then there was the journal.

Sol's fingers brushed over its cover, his breath uneven as he opened it. His name, written over and over again in feverish handwriting. Doodles of hearts, sketches of his profile, and words—declarations, fantasies, phrases that mirrored the chaos in his own mind. It was uncanny. It was terrifying.

It was exhilarating.

He felt his lips curl into an unhinged look as he flipped through the pages, faster and faster, his eyes devouring every stroke of the pen.

But then, a sound—sharp, sudden, and chilling—broke through his thoughts.

A creak. Like the groan of floorboards or the protest of something heavy shifting. Sol froze, his grip tightening on the journal. Slowly, he turned his head toward the closet door.

"...Y/N?"

The moment Sol turned his head, you were already moving. Before he could react, you were on him, pinning him to the floor with a force that sent the box scattering. Pictures, sketches, and your deepest secrets spilled across the floor like a dam breaking. Sol’s back hit the floor, his wide eyes staring up at you, his lips parted in a silent gasp.

You hovered over him, your hands trembling as they gripped his shoulders—not his neck, not his hands. Not the places that screamed at you to touch. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

"I can't hold you by your neck... because you hate it, don’t you?!" you hissed, your voice breaking, a venomous whisper mixed with something almost tender. "And your hands—I can’t touch those either! Because these hands saved me! They’re too... precious! I know all of this because I saw you too!" Your words were frantic, your breath uneven as your emotions clawed their way out of you, raw and desperate.

His eyes were locked on yours, his mouth slightly agape, but he didn’t move, didn’t resist. His blush deepened, spreading across his pale cheeks, but he stayed silent. Watching. Listening.

You felt your resolve crack further, a sob hitching in your throat as you leaned closer, your voice trembling. “Y-you weren’t supposed to see that! None of that!” You gestured wildly at the journal, the photos, the sketches. “Why couldn’t you just—just stay there? Just lay with me? Why are you so goddamn greedy, Sol?” Your words were sharp, accusing, but your expression betrayed your own obsession, your own twisted love.

“You’ve already stolen so much from me. My heart, my thoughts—hell, a dozen of my clothes! And now, this?!” You gestured to the box again, your voice rising before it cracked into a broken whisper. "You greedy, disgusting bastard... And me? I’m no better. I’m just as bad. Look at us...”

Your words faltered as your gaze met his, and you froze. His face mirrored yours—exactly. The wide, crazed eyes, dilated pupils, blush streaking his cheeks like war paint. His lips quivered, caught between a nervous smile and the urge to speak, but no words came. He just stared at you, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling beneath you.

You were paralyzed by the intensity of it—the horrifying, beautiful realization. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t angry.

He was just like you.

A sick laugh bubbled out of you, breaking the silence. “Look at us... Look at how disgusting we are, Sol! You—stealing my clothes like some lovesick thief. And me? God, I’m worse. So much worse. Hiding this box, drawing you like some obsessed freak... We're—” You choked on your words, tears threatening to spill, but the manic grin on your face remained. "We’re both so fucking far gone. It’s sick. We’re sick.”

And yet... there was something so horribly, perfectly satisfying about it.

Sol lay beneath you, his eyes wide and unblinking, his breath caught in his throat as your words tumbled out in a chaotic symphony of revelation. His lips parted as if to say something, but nothing came. His silence was deafening, his body frozen, his face betraying that strange, terrifying cocktail of shock and... acceptance.

“You... you’ve been stalking me, haven’t you?” you whispered, your voice sickly sweet as you leaned closer, lips brushing just past his ear. “You watched me, didn’t you? Followed me home... went through my things. You even drugged me—or almost did. Almost.” Your laugh was low and breathy, sending shivers down his spine. You could feel it, the way his body tensed and trembled beneath your touch.

And then, with a sudden, wicked grin, you asked, “May I?” Your lips hovered near his neck, the words dripping with teasing affection. He didn’t answer, only inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling rapidly. That was enough.

You pressed your lips to his neck, slow and deliberate, and he shuddered under you. His arms moved almost instinctively, wrapping around you as if to anchor himself. His breaths came heavier now, his hands gripping the fabric of your clothes.

“Sol, Sol, Sol…” you murmured against his skin, giggling softly as you pulled back to look at him. His face was a mess of emotions—blush spreading across his cheeks, lips trembling, eyes half-lidded and glazed over with something primal. “Look at you... My beloved, my sweet, sweet Sol.. Is it shocking to see me this crazey?!"

You tilted your head, studying him like an artist admiring their own masterpiece. “I can’t even decide if I should kiss you again or just... hug you forever.” Your laugh broke out again, louder, unhinged. “Ahahaha! Oh, God, I can’t even choose! You make me want everything, Sol! Everything you are!”

Your grin widened further, almost painful, your voice sharp and cutting even as your tone stayed sweet. “That smile of yours... That’s the one, isn’t it? The one that blinds me to everyone else. Like a bright, burning sun that drowns out the whole world. God, you’re so good at pretending to be sweet, but I see you, Sol. I see what’s behind it!”

You pressed your forehead against his, your grin softening, but your words still carried that playful, mocking edge. “You’re a little liar, you know? Just like me. And you know what?” Your voice dropped, almost reverent, as you whispered, “I love it. I love you.”

You paused, giggling again, shaking your head as if you couldn’t believe it yourself. “But let’s not pretend I’m better. Oh, no.” You gestured wildly at the scattered contents of your box. “I’m just as bad as you. Worse, even. Look at all this! I’m a walking red flag, and you—” You leaned back slightly, giving him a once-over, your smile turning teasing. “You’re waving me around like you’re proud.”

Your laughter echoed again, filling the space around you, almost hysterical. “What a pair we make! The obsessed and the obsessive... No, wait—who’s who again?” You tilted your head, smirking. “It doesn’t matter, does it? We’re both disgusting, both broken... and God, isn’t it just perfect?”

Sol’s wide-eyed stare softened just slightly, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles. A fragile, deranged thing that mirrored your own.

And as you leaned closer again, your voice dropped to a whisper, still playful, still sharp. “I’ll trash-talk myself all day, darling, but don’t think for a second you’re off the hook. You’re mine, Sol. And I’m yours. So, go ahead...”

You cupped his face again, your grin never faltering. “Say something. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m not exactly what you wanted.”

Your fingers curled into Sol’s shirt with trembling force, clutching it so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, tears pooling in your eyes as you stared down at him. The words spilled from your lips before you could stop them, each syllable laced with frustration, desperation, and something raw and terrifying.

"Why? Why aren't you saying anything?!" Your voice cracked as you shook him slightly, your grip relentless. “Why aren’t you telling me anything?! I know you feel it—I see it! You’re just like me! You’re the same as me!” Tears streamed down your cheeks, but your voice only grew louder, more frantic. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Sol! You—”

You froze mid-sentence, your eyes locking with his. His expression hadn’t changed. Those eyes of his… they were the same as yours. Wide, shimmering, and brimming with something overwhelming—something obsessive. They mirrored your own crazed love-stricken gaze so perfectly it stole the breath from your lungs.

He was silent, utterly still, and yet… there it was. That unshakable devotion, that desperate yearning. It was written all over his face, in the way his lips parted just slightly, the way his breath hitched, the way he clung to you as if letting go would shatter him completely.

Sol's voice came out almost as a whisper, unsure but laced with a tinge of fear. “How—long have you known…?”

You tilted your head, an innocent smile playing on your lips, though your eyes were anything but innocent.

“What...?” you asked, feigning confusion.

Sol’s gaze dropped, his fingers twitching at his sides. “That I was...watching...you.”

You couldn't hold back the giggle that bubbled up from deep inside you, the sound light but eerie. “Oh, honey... the correct word is ‘stalking.’ But you know, since a few months now... I knew exactly what you were up to. Every little thing. The way you’d slip in and out when you thought I wasn’t paying attention. The food you tried to drug... oh, how cute it was. But, don’t worry. It wasn’t the first time I noticed.”

His expression faltered, surprise crossing his face, but you could sense a mix of pride and discomfort swirling within him.

“How—and you don’t hate me?” His voice trembled slightly, cracking for the first time.

You leaned in closer, almost toying with him, your voice gentle as you whispered, “No. Not at all.”

Sol’s eyes widened in disbelief, his lips parting as if to say something but then stopping himself. His brows furrowed. “What? I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you hate me?” He asked again, but this time, there was more clarity, more strength in his tone than before.

You smirked, tilting your head to the side, as if you were finally offering him the answer he so desperately wanted. “I don’t have a ‘choice,’ Sol.”

A flicker of confusion danced across his face as his grip tightened slightly around you, as though searching for more answers in your gaze. “What?”

You paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. A soft, almost eerie smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “It’s just that I didn’t have any other choice but to love you.”

His expression faltered, and for the briefest of moments, you saw something almost human—something fragile—cross his face. A flush crept up his cheeks, though his eyes remained sharp, guarded.

“You basically own me now, Sol,” you said quietly, your voice unshaken. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride in the way the words fell from your lips. You weren’t afraid. You were comfortable in this.

And then, softly, hesitantly, he finally spoke. His voice was fragile, almost trembling, as if the question itself might break him. “Do you… love me?”

The room fell into a suffocating silence. His words hung in the air, heavy and vulnerable, cutting through your spiraling emotions like a knife. For a moment, you were stunned into silence, your grip loosening slightly on his shirt.

That’s what he was worried about? After everything—after the stalking, the stealing, the obsession—that’s what he cared about? Your mind raced, trying to process the absurdity of it all.

But as you stared at him, at the raw, unguarded emotion in his eyes, something shifted. All the anger, all the chaos inside you seemed to pause, replaced by a single, undeniable truth.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you answered, your own vulnerability slipping through. “Sol…” Your hands trembled against his chest. “Of course I love you.” Your voice cracked on the last word, tears slipping down your cheeks. "How could I not? You’ve consumed me. You’re all I ever think about. All I ever want. All I ever need.”

His lips quivered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he searched your face for any hint of deceit. But there was none. Just raw, terrifying honesty.

“I love you,” you repeated, louder this time, your voice breaking as you clung to him. “And I hate it, Sol. I hate how much I love you. I hate what it’s turned me into. But I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”

His arms wrapped around you suddenly, pulling you against him with a force that stole your breath. His body trembled as he buried his face in your shoulder, his voice muffled and shaky. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “So long…”

You didn’t need to say anything more. Just the way you looked at him spoke volumes. There was a darkness to your smile, a chilling calmness that matched his own twisted nature. You leaned in slightly, your voice low and almost pleading, but still with an air of authority, “Don’t ever leave me, Sol.”

His breath hitched. He froze for a moment, his hand instinctively reaching for his head, his fingers gripping it tightly, as though he could escape the weight of the words you just laid upon him.

“That won’t happen,” he murmured, voice thick with a promise that both scared and thrilled you.

Before you could respond, before you could even process what was happening, Sol closed the distance between you, his hand coming to the back of your head. He pulled you in closer, his lips crashing against yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

There was no gentleness in it, only a raw, desperate need—a desire to consume, to possess, to claim. His kiss was demanding, as though he couldn’t wait any longer to have you all to himself. It was everything you wanted, everything you needed.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, but neither of you seemed ready to face it. The silence was comfortable, the weight of your shared night still lingering in the air. Sol’s steady breathing against you was soothing, and it made it hard to even think about moving. His arms were wrapped tightly around you, as if he feared you’d vanish if he let go.

You lay there, with your head resting on his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart. Everything felt so surreal. After everything—the madness, the obsession, the twisted love—you were here. Together. And for a brief, beautiful moment, you couldn’t find a single reason to pull away.

Sol shifted slightly, his voice a soft whisper in the stillness of the room. "Is this... is this the first time I've slept well in a while?"

You paused, taking in his words, unsure how to respond. He had told you things, bits and pieces of his own brokenness, but this was different. This was the side of Sol that you never really expected to see—the one that wasn’t in control, the one who needed something, someone.

"Yeah," he murmured, almost to himself. "After everything... with you, it feels... different."

The quiet lingered between you, but neither of you rushed to fill it with words. The kiss, the emotions that came with it, and the truth that had been laid bare—none of it was easy to digest. But somehow, it felt right. Neither of you had to say much. The bond was there, thickening around you like an unspoken promise.

For once, Sol wasn’t the one in control. For once, he just wanted to stay there with you.

You lightly brushed a strand of hair from his face, gazing down at him, trying to make sense of the situation. It was strange, how the person who had been stalking you, watching your every move, could now look so... innocent. After everything you’d gone through together, after the craziness of the past few days, here he was, holding you like you were the one thing that could keep him grounded.

Your fingers brushed his cheek gently, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "Oh, Sol," you whispered, "the soul you are..."

Sol didn’t respond immediately, his arms tightening slightly around you, pulling you in closer. He wasn’t saying anything, but his presence spoke volumes. His usual intensity had faded, replaced by a softness, like he was content. Almost like he was at peace for the first time in a long time.

It was funny. You’d expected so much resistance, so much chaos between the two of you. But instead, Sol had become... almost like a puppy. Gentle, needy, and completely devoted now that you’d given him what he wanted—a relationship. The storm inside him had quieted, and now he just wanted you. All of you.

He nuzzled his face against your neck, letting out a small, contented sigh.

The morning light streamed through the window, but neither of you seemed eager to face the reality outside. You could feel Sol’s arms tightening around you, his grip almost possessive, like he didn’t want to let you go—not now, not ever. His presence was soothing yet consuming, and despite everything, you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away. He simply held you, content and silent.

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of your thoughts press down on you. “Sol,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper, “We have school today.”

But even as you said it, you didn’t move. Sol didn’t either. His gaze shifted to you, his eyes filled with an intensity that you had come to recognize all too well. Then, that damned smile of his—bright and blinding like the sun—spread across his face. He closed his eyes again, nuzzling his head into your neck, as if the world outside didn’t matter.

You smiled in return, that same small, knowing smile, as you closed your eyes. Skipping a day doesn’t matter, you thought, feeling your heartbeat steady as you lay there with him, cocooned in the quiet warmth of the moment.

You didn’t know what was happening. You didn’t know if it was the obsession, or just the way Sol had slowly wormed his way into your heart. Part of you wondered if you were truly in love with him, with his darkness, or if you had fallen for something else—his childlike, innocent need for you, perhaps. But one thing was certain. You were in love with something dark.

Something inside you whispered that it didn’t matter what it was, as long as you had him. You felt yourself sinking deeper into him, losing track of what was real and what was just a product of your twisted desires.

The day could wait. Everything could wait. You were here, with him, ad that's!

........................

...............................................

..............................................................................

Your thoughts twisted in a way you hadn't fully expected. Sol's warm body pressed against yours was all you could focus on, as his steady breathing filled the space between you. His presence was intoxicating, and you couldn't help but wonder how far you'd fallen into this spiral.

Is this what love feels like?

You couldn't stop the question from swirling in your mind, but you weren't sure if it was love anymore. Not the kind they talked about in fairy tales, not the kind people dreamt of. This felt different—darker, somehow. The way he clung to you, the way he needed you, it was suffocating yet strangely comforting.

It’s like I’m his obsession, his world, and I can’t escape it. But I don’t want to.

His grip on you, though tender, felt possessive—like he was marking his territory. Your heart fluttered, but not from nervousness. There was something wrong with the way you craved his touch, the way you wanted him to tighten his hold on you.

You tried to brush the thought away, but it lingered like a haunting whisper in the back of your mind. What if this is all I’ve ever wanted? To be owned, to be the center of his world?

You looked down at him, the boy who had slowly seeped into your life, becoming the very air you breathed. His face, soft and serene in sleep, looked almost innocent. But you knew better. He wasn’t innocent. Not with that smile. Not with that darkness lurking in his eyes whenever he was awake.

Do I want to be the one to tame him? The thought came unbidden, a dangerous curiosity taking root. But you weren’t scared. No, you were... enthralled.

He stirred slightly, his breath tickling your neck as his lips brushed against your skin. You felt that familiar thrill course through you, the dark and twisted desire that you couldn’t stop. You wanted to taste his madness, wanted to pull him deeper into the abyss with you. You both were tangled in this web of obsession, and it felt like the only thing that made sense.

God, what is wrong with me?

The question was fleeting, a mere afterthought to the way your heart sped up when he pulled you closer. You didn’t care anymore.

You’re mine, Sol. I’m yours. Forever. The thought was clear, possessive, and there was no escape from it. You smiled to yourself, knowing deep down that you were just as tangled in this as he was.

And that was exactly how you wanted it.

That was all that mattered right now.

Thank you for everyone who read this series, TBH the ending is rushed. I wasn't able to write it much any longer I wanted to end it. I'm sorry if the 'ending' is bad. I was just pointing out two things Reader only started to love the side of his true self than himself. It has to be messed up. I hope i didn't ruin anyone's day with it. I wanna thank to everyone who supported me it was really fun to write...I guess it's time to wrap up! Please send comments I like reading them and replying I'm so sorry Comments make me happy.

A important note too, Please tell me a review of this fic if you can! It has to be truth! I don't mind some tips I WANT THEM. It's also okay if you didn't like it. That's exactly why I did what I did. If you cringed even one time, Just know that it was a trap by me.

Signing off,

Elysia <3333

#the kid at the back vn #solivan brugmansia #tkatb #tkatb sol #tkatb x reader #visual novel #sol x reader #solvian x reader #the kid at the back sol #the kid at the back x reader #tkatb crowe #tkatb sol x reader #solivan brugmansia x reader #the kid at the back crowe

49 notes · View notes