#Interactive content for better audience interaction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

livecrow · 4 months ago

Text

You're out with friends and joke that you're “un-kidnappable”.

John Price and the lads think that’s interesting.

Soft!Dark!John Price x fat fem reader

cw: debatable self-deprecation, kidnapping, noncon

You don’t recall exactly how it came up. Maybe it was the latest episode of a popular true crime podcast a couple of your friends mentioned listening to the other day.

All the same, while lounging in the familiar bar’s cozy glow, the atmosphere at the table stayed light and relaxed, despite the morbid topic.

Between drinks, your friends detail stories of encounters with dubious men and swap self-defense strategies—anything to avoid an impromptu debut on a Dateline special.

They were mostly the basics. Remember to lock your doors immediately. Keep your phone on you. Never leave a drink unattended. Always travel in groups. Oh, and carry pepper spray. It turns out all of your friends carry some.

Not you, though.

When you are inevitably questioned on the matter, you concede that you have some, "...somewhere."

Your mom gave you a little canister years back. But you don’t actually know where it is, much to the displeasure of your friends. Upon further interrogation, you guessed it’s probably forgotten in a drawer somewhere, lost among AAA batteries, tangled cords of unknown origin, and appliance instruction manuals.

As one friend suggests the classic keys-between-your-fingers trick, some of the men at an adjacent table laugh.

“Best use for keys when you’re attacked is opening a damn door.”

Apparently, they had been following your conversation. It was the oldest man who spoke, rumbling over the rim of his glass with aplomb that leaves little room for argument. He has a resonance that makes you pause, reminding you distinctly of the distant rolling thunder that forebodes a coming storm.

The dark, handsome man at his elbow agrees. “'Sides, they’re not brass knuckles. No stability. You’re not actually gonna cause any damage like that.”

“Aye, ye’r better off jus’ takin’ one key an poppin’ the bastard’s een out.” A man sporting a mohawk added with a grin, crudely miming gouging an eye out with his free hand.

“Fine, I’ll punch them out then!” the smallest of your friend group counters, palming her fist loudly while trying to keep a straight face.

That just earns more amusement, of course. The huge masked man at the end of their table scoffs, “Like that you’ll jus’ break your fuckin’ thumb.” He proceeds to instruct her how to make a proper fist.

It's all in good fun. They’re an interesting bunch, probably military of some sort, you’d wager. Three Brits and one Scot. Your group welcomes the interruption, despite the biggest one of the lot looking particularly murdery himself, decked out in all black and a fucking skull balaclava.

The gregarious, younger two made up for it. They were all smiles, speaking candidly as if they’d just run into some old friends. Before long you’ve practically joined tables. Why not? After all, the four certainly look like they know what they’re talking about, each man large and brawny.

The younger men did the vast majority of the talking, answering questions and enthusiastically offering techniques to their audience while Voorhees only interjected a brusque retort every so often. Your friends were utterly charmed by the Scot’s cheeky beam and the pretty Brit’s warm eyes as they moved from outlining bodily weak points with an emphasis on “soft targets” to discussing the pros and cons of different weapons.

But there was something about the man who initiated the discourse—some quality. He held an unspoken commanding presence, despite saying little. Here he was, the catalyst of the entire interaction, and yet he seemed content to observe rather than participate. It brought to mind some indifferent, deist higher power.

You estimated he was a decade his mates' senior, give or take. Apropos stormy eyes framed by heavy brows and the beginnings of crow's feet. Odd, antiquated facial hair, wood brown with smatterings of grey. Privately, you thought it suited him—looked distinguished. At some point earlier he caught your gaze.

He introduced himself as “John.” Although, curiously, none of his cohorts called him that or introduced themselves in turn. Not that your friends seemed to mind; that, or they didn’t notice.

Along with his name, he offered a subdued Duchenne smile that disarmed you, softening his gruff countenance in an instant. For an instant, anyway.

You’d swear that, even in the bar’s low lighting, you caught his eyes twinkle. Some uncharacteristically childish sentiment swept over you for a moment, making you want to believe that the look was for you and that he wasn’t in reality only being polite.

“...honestly, if you have the stomach for it, your best choice is always gonna be a strap.”

The Scot readily agreed with pretty-boy, as he reclined, his chair balancing precariously on just the back two legs. However, they did quibble over the type of handgun, debating various specifications that were gibberish to the rest of you. While they all listen enraptured, only one of your friends really seems truly open to the idea. The rest unsurprisingly remain gun-shy.

Another friend suggests a taser as a compromise.

“Not for me,” you laughed, “there’s absolutely no way my ass wouldn't immediately accidentally taser myself."

“No mace, no taser, no knife—not even one of those keychain alarms!” your friend groused. “You should have something—”.

Your eyes met again. You and John. Even with the subtle haze of alcohol relaxing you, it felt penetrating.

Your eyes retreated down to his drink seeking relief. One of his large hands flexed slightly around his glass, thick tendons shifting under the skin and scattered vellus hair peeking over his cuff, dusting as far as his knuckles.

He seemed to be in thought as he took a drink. Whiskey you think it was. His shrewd eyes didn't leave you; maybe he was just looking through you—

“How do you keep yourself out of trouble then, love?”

His timbre immediately cut through the chatter. If you weren’t feeling so fizzy from the drink, you might feel put on the spot when suddenly everyone’s eyes are singly on you.

You were effectively the token “fat one” of your group. While the rest of this friend group happened to be straight-sized, there was absolutely nothing “straight” on your body. Hell, there was hardly a part of you that didn’t jiggle, at least a little bit.

You didn’t resent it; you were just self-aware. You were perfectly cognizant that you blended in among them about as well as a hippo “blends in" with oxpeckers.

If you were entirely sober, you might be a bit put out, might worry he’s being mean, poking fun at your expense. But no, the alcohol thankfully chased away any anxiety from building in your gut.

Besides, there’s no humor to be found in his expression, no edge of malice in his eyes. None of his mates crack a smirk either, apparently also interested in your answer.

You were mid-sip when the question was lobbed your way, and you used it to stall. You weren’t sure precisely why, but you found yourself squirming in your seat a bit before recovering half a second later.

“Me?”, you grinned around your straw, cocking a brow. “Trust me, I’m not worried about it. I’m practically un-kidnappable,” you asserted, in a way that sounded suspiciously boastful.

John’s focus remains steady on you, appraising, but the other men share a glance.

You could have left it at that, but pretty-boy chimed in, brow furrowing. "How do you figure that?"

You weren’t completely sure that the men weren’t just being intentionally obtuse, but you’d entertain a ridiculous question with a ridiculous response. Flippancy came naturally.

You carefully set your drink back onto the table. You lean in, voice lowered to a grave tone, biting back mischief that threatened to give you away. “Listen, my strategy is airtight,” you paused. “If some guy comes along, tries something?" You hold again for dramatic effect.

"...Sit on him."

"Oh my god," your friends groan collectively.

But you went on, unfazed. "It's all over for him! Why would I need a weapon when I have positional asphyxia? Besides, if that doesn't kill him, the embarrassment will."

Any outrage falls on deaf ears considering your friends are fighting back grins.

Buoyed, you continue. "It’d be like someone trying to ‘kidnap’ a grizzly bear. I am not gonna get abducted unless the guy just happens to show up with a forklift—", that earns a swat from your friend sitting closest.

"—And if that's how I get caught? Honestly? I’d have it coming if I somehow missed the fucker rolling up and can't, what, power-walk out of there?"

Another friend beseeches, "Be serious!"

“I am serious!" you shot back, laughing. "Those things go, what, 5 miles an hour, tops?"

Apparently, the rest of the group also found the image of a low-speed fucking forklift chase funny, judging by the Scot's almost spit-take that left him choking a bit. You were pleased that he and pretty-boy had a sense of humor and didn’t bother with the pretense of finger-wagging.

You were disappointed you didn't get John, though. He only hummed thoughtfully, an odd liminal not-quite frown on his lips that was mostly obscured by his glass as he took another sip.

Tough customer.

One friend challenges you, “Oh, yeah? You say that, but what if he pulls a gun and tells you to get in the car? What then?”

You pressed your lips together, tilting your head in consideration.

"Well, at that point, I guess I’d have to accept I'm going to die.”

"What?!"

You shrugged, "There's no way I'm getting in that car. You never go to a secondary location. Everyone knows that. Why drag things out unnecessarily when you can die in the street? After all, there are plenty of worse ways to go than by a bullet—besides, at least then my body will be found."

Worried the last bit would have more of a sobering effect on your company than you intended, you pivot and retrieve your drink. You tilt your chin up, gazing off into the distance dreamily, gesturing with your glass.

“My final words? 'Good luck trying to dispose of my corpse, asshole. Hope you know a good chiropractor.'"

With that you slurped down the dregs, ice clinking noisily at the bottom, finally giggling with everyone else at your own joke. Cue lots of your name and "Stop it!"s.

Hell, you even eked out a single low "heh" from Hot Topic that you’ll claim as a proper laugh. You were 3 for 4.

Your friends, bless them, are extremely predictable when you’re so candid self-deprecating. They laugh only to retreat to feigning scandal. When they recover, you’re peppered with more scenarios and protests.

You’re barely able to suppress an eye-roll at their persistence. "I mean, it's a moot point from the start. I'm not the mark for that kind of thing in the first place."

Before your friends could cut you off, you clarified, “I’m not saying anything bad. I would just be—" you paused, searching for the right word—"an interesting choice."

"No, I’m not the target demographic for something like that.” You waved a hand dismissively. “I'm simultaneously not preferable aesthetically and not worth the hassle logistically. So that ends up pretty convenient, considering I’d rather not be kidnapped."

You swabbed the ring of condensation you left on the table with a bar napkin absently. "They want some dainty thing—they don’t want me,” you gestured to your person flippantly. “They want a trophy, but not the 'big game' variety," you gave a lopsided smile.

Your friends’ chastisement was swift, distracting enough that it didn’t quite give you a second to contemplate the strange, tenebrous emotion that was simmering just under the surface of John’s expression or that of his mates’. The nuance was lost on you.

Mercifully, after experiencing a couple more variations of “You should be more careful!” from your friends, the topic finally changed.

It transformed and split, becoming a bit too chaotic for you to follow in your current state; several simultaneous threads of conversation going at once turned into white noise.

After a while you must have zoned out a bit, because among the din you didn’t notice that John was now sitting near you. He leaned over discreetly, at a respectful distance that still made your head foggy and face warm, voice low.

“They’re right, you know. You might think you're an exception, but you’re not. Is dangerous to think that.”

You're so struck by the intensity of his steely gaze that you were slow to catch up to the actual words. You couldn’t fathom how blue eyes could feel so searing; you’d swear you could feel their heat. Completely caught off-guard by the sudden seriousness, you struggled with how to respond to that. “I—”

Before you could say anything, you realized the Scot was talking to you, asking you something, reeling you back into the fray.

…

Time seems to pass differently after that; you have no idea how long it’s been, all talking and laughing, sharing bants. More rounds of drinks. It’s a good time.

But the night is winding down for you; you can feel exhaustion creeping in. By the time one of your friends’ partners shows up ready to continue the fun elsewhere, you decline the offer.

You hated being seen as a wet blanket, but right now all you wanted to do was go home and take a hot shower. Peel off your “going-out” clothes and change into something comfortable. Maybe order in and catch up on a show. A little, "dolce far niente".

They invited the men too, but apparently they had other plans. Your friends didn’t waste any time pouting, exchanging quick, tipsy goodbyes before heading out.

It’s much quieter after that. Even the light conversation between the men has fizzled out. The small bar that night was particularly slow, consisting mostly of your two groups to begin with. You pull out your phone to check the time, frowning when you find it dead.

“...I can call you an Uber?” John suggests, as you stand.

The silence is loud, somehow. Oppressive. It looks as if the men are waiting. The air is heavy with something unsaid, some kind of significance that’s entirely lost on your fuzzy mind.

You never noticed the inscrutable look Voorhees sends John after he spoke. You’d find too late that a lot of things skipped your boozy notice that night.

Your lip tugs at the offer. “Thanks, but I promise it’s fine. I actually live pretty close.”

John simply inclines his head, doesn’t press further. As you’re headed to the door, glancing back, you offer an earnest, albeit tired, smile. “Was nice meeting you. Maybe I'll see you around?”

“Maybe.”

…

You were barely halfway home before suddenly, out of the darkness of a Cimmerian passing alley, arms locked around you, ripping an undignified squeal out of you.

When you catch sight of the familiar faces of your “attackers”, you clutch your chest, trying to calm your hammering heartbeat.

“Fucking hell!” you heaved.

If you weren’t so rattled and clamoring over your words, you would have been especially mortified by the incidental contact on your squishy middle. You couldn’t remember a time someone has grabbed you so brazenly. By process of elimination, it must have been Hot Topic’s large form who was holding you against his front.

“Shit! You guys are assholes,” you exclaimed between pants. “That’s not funny!” Your hands grasped at the large forearms around you, yanking fruitlessly.

It was John who was standing in front of you, thumbs hooked in his pockets, backlit by a streetlamp, haloed in faint breath vapor. It was the first time you’d recall seeing him standing; he was even bigger than you expected. They all were.

“You left, what—” he pulled out his phone and glanced down at the blueish light in his hand, “20 minutes ago?” His eyes return to your face, raising his thick brows. “Not very ‘close’, is it? Your home.”

John spoke conversationally, a picture of ease, like he was commenting on how chilly it was for this time of year, and hadn't just jumpscared you.

“Dinnae even try tae throw a punch, no’ even one o’ those girly slaps—” the Scot muttered, not particularly quietly, to pretty-boy, who kissed his teeth in disapproval.

You’re running on fumes, so your brain is moving in slow motion, only just processing John’s words, not yet able to summon even a glare for the Scot’s commentary.

“It is close,” you insist, coming out slightly more defensively than you intended. You’re still embarrassingly working overtime to catch your breath while trying to pull away from the hard body at your back in irritation. “Besides, how do you define ‘close’? That’s completely subjective.”

Not as if that’s any of your business. You held back that particular remark.

You took a measured breath or two more. “Look, of all people, I appreciate the commitment to a bit,” you clawed uselessly at Voorhees’ iron grip around you, “but can you call your dog off?”

Hot Topic’s previous abridged facsimile of a “laugh” echoed in your ear, an amused huff so close that it made you flinch. That wasn’t really what you expected from your unadvisable barb.

You think it was the material of his mask that you felt slightly graze the shell of your ear, but it was fleeting enough that you couldn’t be certain.

“You can call me Ghost, sweet’eart”.

On any other day that edgy moniker would have garnered some kind of mirth, but your clouded brain didn’t seem fit to supply a witty retort with some strange man at your nape.

While John said nothing, something in his expression must have communicated to Ghost. You instinctively relaxed when his arms released your middle.

It soothed your nerves a touch, enough that you didn’t register that you were in the process of being edged backwards and were now partway through an alley you should have passed on your route home.

You crossed your arms, opting to ignore the introduction in lieu of another shaky inhale. “Just wait till my friends hear that you guys blew them off just to fuck with me. So much for having ‘plans’, huh?”

You tried to tease, still desperately attempting to slow your heart, recoup some composure, and match the men’s nonchalance. You’re not sure how convincingly you pulled it off. Some nagging anxiety still seeped out of you in a slow leak, despite your best effort to pull yourself together, to not be a buzzkill in response to a technically harmless pran—.

“This is the ‘plan’, love.” John replied simply, not missing a beat.

You huffed in exasperation, brows pinched. “...What, ‘making a point’?”

John paused for a moment, seeming to weigh his words, “That’s one way to look at it, if you’d like.”

There was a pregnant pause, and suddenly the scrape of shoes on the dirty pavement seemed loud in your ears. The smell in the alley is particularly damp and musty now. Had you been moving this whole time? You’re getting all turned around—

Pretty-boy cut in, “You know, your whole premise was faulty from the start. ‘Sides you didn’t account for more than one person being involved”.

“Involved in what?” you blinked, bewildered.

“Your kidnapping, obviously.”

“My k—?”.

“—Speak for yourself, Gaz. I’d ‘ave ‘er either way.” Ghost interrupted, making you jump, a stark reminder of the presence still at your back.

You were stunned into silence for a couple of excruciatingly long seconds before choking out a pained laugh.

“Ha-ha. Alright—alright, fine. I get it.” You raise your hands in surrender, head swiveling back to John as you turn to press your back against the rough brick of the alley wall, trying to keep them all in your field of vision.

“I’ll get a taser or something, is that what you want?” you offered, wearing your best expression of deferent contrition.

When John finally peels his eyes from you, he just sighs heavily, shaking his head at the pavement; either in disapproval or disbelief, you couldn’t be sure which.

“Bit late for that now.”

“…What—what the hell is that supposed to mean?” You stutter indignantly.

You were starting to feel woozy; maybe you drank a bit too much.

Your sole scuffs against some debris, almost tripping you up completely if not for the brick wall to steady you. Your palms sting as they slide slightly on the stone, but you don’t dare take your eyes off them to look down for even a second.

Suddenly, with a furtive glance over Ghost’s shoulder, you realize you're almost out on the other side of the street. His massive form fills the alleyway, destroying any hope you’d be able to squeeze your wide body past him or John and the others on your opposite side.

Your mouth is painfully dry. Your throat works, trying to swallow but still managing to somehow choke on nothing. You force some authority you don’t feel into your tone, but it tapers off rather weakly.

“Listen, you’ve had your fun. I really need to get home.”

You were struck by how different they all seemed compared to hardly a half an hour prior. The shift was dramatic—made your head spin. It was hard to rationalize that the people who were just sitting across from you in the homey local bar sharing drinks and the people now caging you into a dreary, abandoned street corner were one and the same.

An approaching streetlamp visible through the yawning maw of the alley cast harsh shadows on their faces. A literal “light at the end of a tunnel” that only offered you dread.

You swayed slightly on your feet, head darting around, desperately trying to keep an eye on the four of them. You were feeling suddenly inexplicably drunker than you felt mere moments before.

As your knees quivered and you tried to steady yourself, John remained a pillar in your wobbly field of vision. Watching. Waiting.

You're not sure which was preferable, the ominous comments or the ominous silence.

You weren’t small. You’d never felt small in your life. But with a group of large men looming over you, it was suddenly hard not to. It was not a feeling you were accustomed to and one you didn’t enjoy now.

You needed air, it was getting impossible to think. You tried to speed your gait to no avail; you couldn’t gain any distance. They prowled, following you closely, as if there was a gravitational pull anchoring them to you.

“Fine. Fine! Okay, you proved your point, alright?!” you exclaimed, getting more frantic by the second, louder. “Let me pass. I’m serious.”

“Oh, so now she’s serious…” Gaz teases, somewhere off to your left.

“You think I’m not?” John husked, sounding incredulous, forehead lines deepening as he raised his brows, tucked his chin to stare down at you through hooded eyes. “Love, I’m serious as a heart-attack.”

Then he was smiling at you again.

It looked the same as before. Sincere. But where previously it endeared you, now, now it makes your heart stall, then shudder in your ribcage; fill you with the sensation of a freefall, the one that jolts you awake while on the very precipice of sleep, leaves your heart racing, despite the tranquil darkness.

His eyes flick over your head.

Before you are able to register the glance, Ghost is suddenly on you again, grabbing you round the middle quicker than someone his size had any right to be, this time actively herding your large form forward.

You realized dully that his last grip on you must have been relatively loose compared to his grip on you now; it was clearly only a fraction of his actual strength.

“What are you doing?!” You cry, a hair's breadth away from a shriek. Your head whips back to John, imploring, “Stop—Stop, I don't know what you want!”

This is probably what it feels like to be a frog. Pounced on and scooped up roughly by some huge creature—some grubby kid’s scrambling fingers. Slippery, round body gripped tight.

You were finally out of the alley, pulled by Ghost as well as your own unsteady feet, your body's instinct to try and avoid cracking your cranium on the concrete abetting him, betraying you.

“What we want?” Ghost chaffed over you, mimicking your voice. “Go on then,” he urged, “give your ‘ead a wobble?”

You could practically feel him cocking his head, feel his smile even with him against your back, even behind the mask.

The open air did nothing for you. It didn’t clear your mind or relieve the claustrophobia churning in your belly a single iota. After all, it wasn’t really the walls closing in on you—it was bodies.

“You’re just trying to scare me!” You accuse sharply, voice strained, grunting as you only manage to nearly heimlich yourself on the last attempt to free yourself from the steel grip around your midsection.

Gaz and the Scot chuckle.

John says your name. He utters it like it was a complete sentence, but you're not sure what it means, what he wants. Either way, it made you regret giving it to him. You suddenly preferred not hearing it on his lips in that rumbling baritone.

Ghost scoffs. “For ‘avin such a smart mouth she’s a bit thick, eh, Soap?” he comments meanly over your head.

Soap’s responding before you have a chance to voice any displeasure, somewhere between a laugh and a scold.

“A bit? Haud yer wheesht!” He turns his attention quickly back to you, leaning in close, “Aw, pet, dinnae pay him mind…Lt kens our bonnie is well thick”, he pats your cushioned hips affectionately.

A shocked gasp slips out of you unbidden at the brief but unmistakable gentle fondle of your fat love handles.

They all drank in the vulnerable, little noise. It would be the first of many. It was impossible to interpret the gesture as anything but “familiar”.

Your body jolts. You would have practically jumped a foot off the ground if not for Ghost anchoring you. With the hold, stark realization floods you like a bucket of ice water—there’s quite literally nothing you can do to avoid any of their touch. Your skin crawls at the unfamiliar contact and doubly so at the threat of more yet.

“Dead fit,” Gaz says readily, sounding like an agreement if you’ve ever heard one, his eyes roam your form.

Words were stolen from your overheating brain, still trying desperately to reboot, to process what the fuck is going on.

“Captain ‘s a man of taste—such a pretty, dainty thing,” Ghost sneers in your ear. “Playin’ coy now, when she was practically battin’ ‘er lashes all night.”

“—It’s not too late—it’s a joke, right? Let’s—we can just forget about this—”

Ghost completely ignores you. “Soft thing like you prancin’ ‘round, cunted at this hour, thinkin’ you're safe?”

“Cun—? I’m not fucking drunk!”

“You’re lucky someone with bad intentions didn’t hear you.” The grin is loud in his tone, oozes off every syllable.

“You think I'm a dog? So you knew wha’ you were doin’ then? You were teasin’ a ‘ungry dog, waving a juicy steak under ‘is nose. Rubbing it in all our faces, of any bloke ‘n earshot? That it?”

“What—what the hell are you talking about?! You—you can’t be serious!” You finally parroted uselessly, equal parts baffled and horrified. These men are crazy.

“She keeps sayin’ tha’,” Soap comments, perplexed.

“‘Denial’ ‘s not just a river,” Gaz shrugs.

Ghost continues. “Captain—” A big hand is suddenly on your jaw, centering your gaze back on John, ”—‘s doin’ you a kindness. Keepin’ you safe n’ sound, makin’ sure you don’t get yourself chewed up and spit out 'n some dirty fuckin’ alley,” nodding back towards the way they came, “Nice of ‘im, innit?”

You flailed desperately, hoping to catch Ghost off guard for even a second. You send your elbow into his ribs, as hard as you could manage at the awkward angle.

It was akin to hitting granite. You sucked in air through your clenched teeth as pain radiated through your ulnar nerve. His grip on you didn't waver, he didn't flinch. He laughed.

A true, low “heh, heh, heh”, that you regretted ever wanting to hear—could have happily gone your whole life without hearing. It sent rogue shivers down your spine and piloerection up your arms as you gawked up in shock, pain forgotten.

“Och, that’s a bit better, Bonnie.” Soap feigns, judging your strike like he’s trying not to hurt your feelings.

“John—” you plead helplessly, turning your gaze back to him. But saying his name was a mistake, deepening the look already there. Rubatosis filled you.

“Think you're strong, eh?" His words still swollen with caustic amusement, "That you could ever ‘urt any of us? Show ‘im you can fend f’ yourself then.” Ghost wobbled you to and fro, shook you, as if you were some weightless bauble.

As your world tilted, you instinctively gripped his arm for dear life, dizzy, afraid you would topple over.

You knew he was right, of course; there is no point denying it.

But a man like him, like them—saying it? It was wrong—it chilled your blood. It felt needlessly cruel, to rub in how weak you are compared to them. The provocation freezes you, making Ghost’s dark eyes crinkle.

“Slim pickings, huh? Must be feeling desperate?” you bit out, before you could stop yourself, voice bitter and thick with emotion—panic and anger congealing into snark. A hole is a hole, after all. Bad luck that you happened to be the one around.

Who would you trade places with? Better you than someone else, your conscience whispered faintly.

“You really don’t get it?” John wonders aloud, bafflement mixing with a heady intensity.

“Imagine thinking no one would want all this—” Fingers grazed your curves. Touched every roll, every hill and valley on your side with a reverence that shocked you for the hundredth time that day, left your mouth literally agape.

“—thought is an utter travesty. One of life’s greatest pleasures is a big, soft girl. Nothing sweeter,” he declared breathily despite himself. “Nothing. So much more to hold, to squeeze—”

There was a certain palpable greediness to his touch, even while he was clearly restraining himself. Groping, not bruising. He only went so far, skirting frighteningly close to your more private bits.

At least it appeared your actual debasement was not going to happen on this particular street corner. His hands make a slow jaunt, mapping your contours. Down your back, your side, your belly, your thighs—kneading and squeezing your ample flesh.

A pitiful, “Please stop—” is eked out of you. Your unadulterated fear on full display, sincere and raw. Begging. You were begging, or trying to, anyway. Your breath hitched, flesh jolting with every unwelcome brush against you, sending your nerve endings alight, already feeling overstimulated.

There was that expression again, that you didn’t recognize before. But it was no longer just simmering under the surface; it was boiling. Emanating out through his pores, muddled with a touch of pity. You finally recognized it—hunger.

“I’m not cross with you,” he adds oddly. “You don’t understand now, but you will. This isn’t a punishment—it’s a consequence.”

Your throat clamped painfully, words tumbling out of your mouth incomprehensibly, trying to find the right thing to say to make him stop. “Please, I don’t, I can’t, wh—”

More hands were on you, pulling your wrists together in front of you.

“Am not going to hurt you. You have my word.” The solemnity of the promise rattled you. Maybe he truly believed it, but you certainly didn’t. After all, you’d wager you had different definitions of “hurting”. You’d die on the hill that this was “hurting” someone.

Somewhere inside you, your body was screaming at you to do something. You’d take the inspiration.

Scream what, exactly? You couldn’t be sure. You should scream “fire” not “help”, right?

But you’d never get the chance, because on your inhale, John’d somehow divined your intentions, and suddenly a hand was clamped over your lips before a sound could escape them. The pressure of the palm was close to bruising this time, unyielding—he wasn’t taking any chances, apparently.

Jerking your head did nothing to dislodge the hand, unlike those on your limbs. It followed the movement rather than impede it. As fate would have it, your struggles only left your head spinning, vision partially obscured by the force of the hand pushing your plump cheeks into your eyes. Whiplash pinched in your neck at the frantic jerks. God, you felt sick.

After that, everything happened very quickly. Suddenly it felt like there were hands all over you, everywhere. Grabbing, holding, pressing. You could hardly tell up from down.

You’d shut your eyes for even a momentary reprieve, willing the vertigo to cease. For everything to stop. For all of them to stop touching you. Hoping desperately that you’d wake up and find yourself safe in bed, this all a bad dream.

Then there was a ripping sound, then a couple more. Someone was pushing stray hairs out of your face. The hands on your wrists moved up instead to grip your forearms. No sooner than you heard it, the large hand had fled your lips only to be immediately replaced by some large sticky substance that was stretched taut across your mouth, from cheek to cheek.

Startled, your struggles renewed, some expletives trapped by the stuff, transforming into useless “mphhhing!” as your hands jumped to pull the offending material from your face. An entirely fruitless endeavor considering the grip on your arms, which didn't budge an inch. John seems fit to ignore your pitiful struggle, simply smoothing it out carefully, layering a couple more pieces. He hums in satisfaction, wide palm patting his work, cupping your mouth and jaw again for good measure.

There was that sound again. With the fear it shot through you, it might as well have been a gun racking. You couldn’t see it, but this time your sloshy mind recognized the distinct creak and shrill shrrrrrrrrrrrp. It was duct tape being pulled from the roll, then wrapped noisily around your wrists, aided by the hands forcing your arms together.

Trying to shove, to bully yourself between them was hopeless. They were all too close, too strong, too heavy, all bearing down on you. You didn’t have room to throw your weight around or even properly kick out at them. Round and round, the tape went, and round and round again for good measure before the end was ripped, smarting where it snagged slightly on the hair on your arms.

You're quite literally fighting for your life, sweating with exertion and panic, panting behind the tape, but your desperate flailing didn’t deter them at all; you didn’t receive even a single hitch in any of their breath for your effort. Hell, it couldn’t even hinder some conversation. Not that you caught most of it with your head swimming, heart pounding loudly in your ears.

“—‘course she’s scrikin’, we’re nicking ‘er,” Ghost rolls his eyes.

Something else was said, probably by Soap, based on the accent.

Ghost just doubles down. “No point tryin’ to talk sense into ‘er. Thing doesn’t know what’s good for ‘er—“

John took his time; he’s dedicated to his task. Precise yet generous with the tape. As soon as the hands left your forearms, more tape was applied where they departed, this time around your entire body, effectively pinning your arms down at your front, circling you enough times that you lost count.

Your struggles and thrashes reinvigorate, an absolutely method portrayal of a snared rabbit. It hurt—hurt how hard you were pulling against them. Bruises would undoubtedly bloom in the coming days wherever their hands gripped you from your wild jerking. That is, assuming you lived that long. Your chest heaves with anxiety. The men allowed you a bit more space, enough that you didn’t feel actively compressed on every side. By them at least.

Not John, though. It was his face that filled your vision, his eyes that pinned yours.

“Shhh. There’s a girl. It’s already over.” You hadn’t yet noticed the tears gathering, that you were so close to falling apart. He said it like it would be some sort of comfort, cupping your plump cheeks delicately. John spoke to you gently, in the softest tone you’d heard yet, softer than you would have believed his husky voice capable of, and yet, with an disturbing finality. “It’s done. Nothing you can do now,” he whispered into your terrified face.

He was too close—there was a little mole on the right side of his nose you never noticed before. He smelled of smoke, and under that, something woodsy and spicy. A large, rough palm smoothed over your hair. Your terrified eyes squeezed shut, willing him out of your face, to stop looking at you. You’re certain he could feel your terror; hell, he could probably feel each little panicked puff of air forced out of your lungs on his face as you tried vainly to regulate your breathing through your nose. “There you go,” he praised, “In and out.”

Shining tears wobbled precariously in your waterline. You tried with all your might not to let them loose, to salvage any shred of dignity. Any sense of control. As if that would somehow make things worse, as you sucked in a wet, sniveling sound.

Your internal pleas for space were less than useless, as John leaned in ever closer, cradling your skull in his hands, pressing his lips to your crown in a chaste, whiskery kiss.

The sheer intimacy of the gesture made you balk. Held and boxed in, there was no way to move away, making you whimper pathetically. Sounding foreign to even your own ears. A savourable sound, that went right to John’s belly.

Trying to hold it in was all for naught; as soon as John’s lips touched you, your resolve shattered. Shattered into so many pieces even Kintsugi couldn’t repair it.

Your face was soaked with the onslaught, tears traveling as far as down your neck. Dizzy with panic, the duct tape swallowing up most of your damp sobs. You couldn’t recall the last time you'd broken down like that in front of another person, much less four near strangers.

“I’m keeping you.” He says suddenly. He waits for you to take in the words, thumbs stroking slow circles into your cheekbones.

You hiccup behind the tape, teeth chattering in your clenched jaw as you realize you’re shaking. Face tacky with tears. You angrily tried to pull away again, but John just held you still as you quake.

…John didn’t need Ghost for muscle, you realized dully. His grip was an epiphany, the promise of strength in his hands alone—it made you feel all the more useless.

Calloused thumbs rasped over your cheeks, wiping away the wetness there, only for more to replace them. “I won’t try to stop you from crying, won’t punish you for being upset,” he rumbled, “but, you have to understand it won’t change anything. What'll happen. From now on, you’re mine—but I take care of what’s mine. You’ll see.”

Why?! Your heart ached. You couldn’t understand how people you’d been chatting and laughing with mere minutes ago could do this to you. People who had seemed so normal—

Gaz smirks, nudging Soap, murmuring, “Oh, don't worry, she’ll feel heaps better when she’s creamin’ on—”

You didn't think you were capable of feeling worse. Your eyes bulge in horror, breath snagging again in your throat.

John sighs, interrupting him with a harsh jangle of metal as he pitched some keys to Gaz, who caught them easily in one hand. “Bring the car ‘round will you?” John asks, but it’s really not a request.

“On it!” Gaz’s reply is prompt and cheery as he steps off the curb into the darkness beyond the reach of the streetlamp, practically a spring in his step.

You sniffled, sinuses starting to burn, following your eyes’ watery influence. Feeling humiliated as you can feel your nose start to run, tickling your philtrum. Soap cooed over your teary face. You flinched as he raised his hand to you, but he only wiped your nose, disgustingly with his own sleeve.

He had the nerve to look chagrined at your reaction. When he spoke again, it was uncannily quiet compared to his familiar boister, as if he was trying to soothe a spooked horse. “Dinnae fash, it’ll be awricht, bonnie, swear it.”

His words were worthless; didn’t pacify you at all. You were possessed by a primal terror of a cornered animal that couldn’t fathom what was going to happen to it. Your eyes flooded, everything in your vision warped by tears. You couldn’t see, couldn’t hear over your own hammering heart. Soap’s cursin’, saying something. Maybe it was fucking Gaelic, you didn’t understand what he was saying.

“—Wee lamb, greetin—”

“‘Nough fussin’, Soap. You’re almost as bad as ‘er.”

“Ah ken, ah ken…”

“I did warn you, even gave you an out.” John sighed, commiserating, as if he weren’t the source of your angst. It wrung completely hollow, he didn't sound disappointed in the slightest with any of the events. If anything, you'd suspect we has trying to tamp down the opposite.

“Jesus wept, Cap—” Soap blurts, any remorse apparently long forgotten as he suddenly grips your ample belly possessively, making you shriek, “—almost made us lose out,” he grumbled. “Ah knew ye were tryin’ tae tip ‘er aff”.

You thrashed in his rude hold, face hot, but he just grinned, loved how your squirms just showcased your enticing bounce. Despair and humiliation ached in your chest, heavy like lead. You just wanted to go home.

Headlights round the corner.

In a last-ditch attempt, you allow yourself to completely go limp, following through on the threat of being unmovable. You barely start tipping before Ghost and Soap are on either side of you, holding you up between the two of them, completely halting your descent.

Your mind shuddered to a halt with the idea they might actually be able to lift you. When you tried to buckle your knees, they went ahead and confirmed your fears true. Not even a slipped grunt of exertion gave you any satisfaction, when you were being half carried, half dragged practically kicking and screaming to the car. Well, as much as you could through the tape. As you’re urged onward, you lock your knees as your legs jam against the car’s running board.

“You’re going one way or another,” John calls simply, tapping something into his phone.

“Watch your head, trophy.” Ghost grins, huge hand spanning your skull, pushing you down past the door frame, but you think you just might have preferred the concussion. Your own weight does the rest of the work, sending you sprawling belly first onto the back seat, teary cheek smooshed against the cool, leather interior.

You should have been prepared to be absolutely as difficult as possible, regardless of whether or not it’d change your fate, but you were utterly spent. Your limbs ached at all the struggling. You couldn’t muster any more fight as Soap and Ghost maneuvered you into the middle seat. Your plentiful "handholds" aiding the process.

The lone lap belt buckled tightly across your lap before Ghost and Soap followed you in, sandwiching you, sitting in the seats on either side. You were practically spilling over onto them, it was a tight fit.

You couldn’t quite swallow a yelp as rough fingers were wedged under your plush form on either side. Apparently unsatisfied with your positioning, you were swiveled so your ass remained in the seat while the rest of your body lay flat. Your upper body in Ghost's lap and legs curled in Soap’s, the seat belt digging into your soft belly at the awkward angle.

You were normally hyperaware of the space you occupied and tried to be as respectful as possible about it. You would be mortified, feel a bolt of white-hot shame if any squishy bit of you even accidentally brushed up against someone else. You’d do anything to risk a stranger's look of annoyance or disgust, god forbid someone say something. And yet, here you were, your fat body draped across two men's laps, both looking quite fucking pleased with the arrangement. There was nothing you could do about it, as Soap paws at your thigh, humming happily.

“Behave, you lot.” John stoops, smiling at the group fondly as he shuts the door.

The car is moving.

You were completely adrift. Maybe you were in shock. All it took was a handful of seconds for your life to become entirely and irrevocably derailed.

While lying prone, the motion rocked you slightly. Outside the window, the world flitted by. All you could make out from your vantage point was the wide expanse of sky, purplish, the color of a dusky developing bruise, only swagging power lines and the tops of towering street lamps flashing across the horizon.

Just like that, slow conversation started up again, right above your head. It was as if they were back at the bar; the normalcy of it was chilling. Soap’s hands were still resting over your thick thigh, petting you. Repetitive strokes up and down your thigh that also eventually blended into the background. The car was so warm now—John must have cranked the heat. You feel the warmth dust across your face where it filtered into the backseat.

You're feeling floaty—disconnected. Your body couldn’t sustain the level of terror that should still be at the forefront of your mind. Adrenaline burned everything out of you, drained you till there was nothing left but fog, thick and cloying. It became a task to keep your eyes open.

You were so tired.

Your limp body bounced lightly as the car went along. The voices were even more distant now, a muted background noise, like someone speaking on the phone in the next room over—you can just hear the mumble through the wall but can’t decipher any of the words.

…

“—get some proper rest on the plane.”

(I horked this up originally after re-reading one of @391780 posts. I think it was the one where Simon calls dibs on you while you're out with friends? Clearly things deviated a lot, but still. Do yourselves a favor and read all of their stuff.)

#crow writes #i tried to leave it kind of ambiguous if Price was gonna share you #egregious use of italics and emm dashes #i am continuing my sacred tradition of writing the reader as a fat dumbass #cod #call of duty #fat reader #plus size reader #chubby reader #captain john price #dark john price #dark john price x reader #john price x reader #john price x you #dark john price x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #author is fat #cw: noncon

2K notes · View notes

vladtoly · 4 months ago

Text

Thanos the Match Maker

Nam-gyu x Female!Reader

Requested: Yes

Proofread: No

A/N: Hope this is what you had in mind! I had to re-watch some of his scenes to get a feel for him again, so I hope I did it justice. Thanks for requesting!

You stared at the boxed meal in front of you, eyeing it warily before going back to your bunk. Surely, they wouldn’t poison all of you right? It seemed that their whole play was being ‘fair’ in the games, so poisoning had to be off the table. Even with that thought though, you inspected each piece of food before taking a bite.

While slowly eating, you let your eyes wander the dorms. Everyone was obviously rattled, most not even touching their food. A large group of them stood in front of Player 456 to interrogate him about the last games. Just for his own sake, you wished he had stayed quiet. You understood he was attempting to save everyone, but he was preaching to the wrong audience. None of these people wanted to leave without money, and it was very clear that no sum of it would be enough.

You looked back down at your food. Sighing, you stopped inspecting and just ate. If you died, you died, at least you wouldn’t be hungry.

Footsteps began to approach your bunk, catching your attention. You looked up just in time to see Thanos and his sidekicks in tow, Player 124 opting for leaning on your bunk railing. Your eyes met for a split second, you looking away when he gave a slight smirk.

“How can I help you boys?” You said, attention going back to your meal.

Thanos leaned forward, his elbows on the mattress as he rested his head in his hands to get a better look at you. “Couldn’t help but notice you alone. It’s not very safe in here, you may need a guy to protect you in the next game.”

Letting out a snort, you continued to pick at your food. “Not in the market for a bodyguard, thanks. I don’t need your help.”

“Who said I was talking about me, Senorita?”

Now that caught your attention. This guy didn’t like to be out of the spotlight, so this should be good.

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “And who exactly are you talking about?”

He slid back so he was fully standing, smacking a firm hand on Player 124’s shoulder. He seemed to know just as little about this interaction as you did, if his shell-shocked expression were to mean anything. “My boy here! Nam-gyu can protect you no problem.”

Nam-gyu quickly collected himself, going back to his usual expression as he leaned back onto the bunk railing. He leaned in close, his breath almost touching your face as he spoke. “We don’t know what the next game’s going to be. But what I can tell you now is that I’d make sure you’re safe, baby.”

You raised a slight brow at the pet name but felt your cheeks warm at it at the same time. However, you couldn’t let this guy win that easily. It’s not like he’s been a delight up until this point.

You met his gaze and cocked your head to the side. “Oh really? And how do you plan to keep me safe if we don’t know the game, hm?”

“Well,” he opted to sit on the edge of the bunk, resting his hand on the mattress. His face had moved closer. “I may not know what the game is, but if you stay close, I’ll personally make sure nothing happens to you. We may even have a little fun, who knows?”

Your gaze studied the rest of his face, pores and all. Then it moved to the rest of him, eyeing up if he really could protect you. You realized he was hitting on you, the goal was to get closer to you, which you admit was working. But you wouldn’t mind some extra help next game if it was needed.

When you were content, you made eye contact again. “Fine. Meet me at my bunk tomorrow morning, before the next round.”

He chuckled, moving his hand off the mattress and onto your thigh. “Or you could come eat with us now, get to know each other better.”

You couldn’t deny how your stomach flipped at the touch. Yet you cleared your throat and slowly moved his hand. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, baby. Maybe I’ll come by in a bit.”

He seemed content with that as his face split into a grin and he finally stood up. When he turned though, he realized Thanos and the other player had already wandered off, probably during your conversation. He scoffed but made a point to nod to you before going in search of them.

You laughed lightly, before looking at your lap, where your half-eaten food still sat open.

Fuck it. Might as well have fun if you might die anyways.

----------

Squid Game headcannon/blurb requests are OPEN!

#squid game x reader #squid game #nam gyu x reader #player 124 x reader

1K notes · View notes

ctrlkenma · 17 days ago

Text

☆ I'M GETTING RIPPED TONIGHT, RIP THAT PUSSY!

☆ — summary. the hq boys, and how they work you out ☆

☆ — content warning. f!reader, timeskip, vaginal fingering, oral sex, slight degradation (kenma), bimbofication (kenma), streamer!kenma, streamer!user, pre-established relationships, mature.

☆ — word count. 0.9k.

☆ — includes. kei tsukishima, kenma kozume, ☆

☆ KEI TSUKISHIMA.

The Sendai Frogs exhaust him to no extent.

Truth be told, they conducted themselves as if they were juniors in high school, the lot of them. If he’d known any better, Kei would’ve thought he was being compensated for chaperoning his team - the designation as a “middle blocker” long forgotten as his time, in lieu, was spent predominantly providing adult supervision for those who missed the memo on maturity.

In spite of the many years he spent pottering in high school volleyball, Tsukishima considered himself to be equipped with the skills needed to start childminding (though, granted, not at such an early age).

In contrast though, Kei, despite the nonchalant facade he upheld that many failed to peer through - found his energy siphoned due to the constant immaturity - to phrase it better, his teammates’ stupid fucking antics - Kyotani’s continuous yelling and Koganegawa’s talkative nature, not to mention their overuse of that annoying, cliched nickname - “tsukki”, which ticked him off even more because it sounded so fucking pathetic if it didn’t come from you.

With volleyball practice feeling more like babysitting than training, Tsukishima was left with a single, solitary outlet through which he could channel his simmering frustration in a relatively healthy way—sex. For Kei, especially, that translated into eating you out, legs sprawled open as you lay on the sofa, exhausted from the constant edging and quite frankly, desperate for an orgasm.

“Kei…” You beg, lip quivering as you throw your head back, finally being met with the incredible sensation of stimulation onto your clit, his hands prying open your thighs impossibly further, tongue invading your wet entrance as his nose pressed against your core, glasses fogged up from the heat you emanated.

If Kei died at this moment, he’d leave a happy man.

At last, those sweet, saccharine words bless his ears as if they were a long awaited lullaby - a broken, hushed cry of the epithet, “T-Tsukki!”, which, really, as all it took for Tsukishima to come undone, lapping up at your sweet release as he finally drags down his boxers, providing some much needed oxygen to his erection, which would finally be met with sweet relief once plunged inside your warmth.

☆ KENMA KOZUME.

There was, perhaps, nothing in this world Kenma Kozume abhorred more than fanmeets.

They wore him out, unnecessarily so, as all it required was to sit still in a chair and talk hours on end about the importance of gaming to the community and whatnot at a fucking twitch panel, as if Kenma’s job didn’t just consist of streaming whenever he felt like playing on his PC.

The job was rewarding, yes, but it was just as time-consuming and annoying, despite the income it may have generated. Being under the constant, watchful eye of anonymous users and being under public scrutiny served as an added bonus (read: sarcasm) to fuel his ever-thriving ego.

It didn't help that you were in the same boat as him - sitting in front of a screen 25/8, bimbofied for all to see. That, perhaps, and seeing you be unceasingly sexualized perhaps replaced his hatred for public speaking and social interaction, dethroning it from the top spot. Honestly, how much lower could your audience stoop? As if having thirst traps be made of him over the littlest things weren’t enough, he now had to endure the thousands of fans you boasted as you sat next to him on that very panel.

And so, you found yourself being pushed against the wall by a very sweaty, excessively worn out, and an extremely hormonal Kenma.

“Ken, what are you-,” you started, but he cut you off with a soft “shh,” his hand reaching to latch the door, locking it with a soft click!

“You liked them looking, didn’t you?” His voice was a low growl against your neck, possessive. He pressed wet, insistent kisses to your skin as his hands slid down, a slow, deliberate exploration before he roughly shoved your panties down to your ankles. He didn't hesitate, his fingers plunging deep inside you, slick with your immediate arousal. The sound was wet and messy, a stark contrast to the sterile environment. “You fucking loved the attention, didn’t you? Look at this mess,” he muttered, his fingers churning within you, pulling apart your folds, smearing your slickness across your skin. “So fucking wet for them.” His taunt was a breath away from your lips as he captured them in a hard, wet kiss, his fingers inside you now pumping with a brutal, uneven rhythm.

You gasped, a choked sound as your hips instinctively bucked against his hand. Kenma’s fingers were relentless, stretching you, exploring every ridge with a rough possessiveness. He slid in another finger, forcing you wider, the wet sounds echoing in the small room. He began to fist you, his knuckles pressing deep, his movements almost violent as he filled you completely. It was rather animalistic, sloppy, and undeniably intimate, unlike the secretive, vanilla moments you shared with Kenma, in the quiet of your bedroom. He moved within you like he was trying to claim every inch, his grip tight and demanding. Just like getting that perfect S+ on 1980’s mode in Yandere Simulator – precise, brutal, and utterly focused.

“Tell me their eyes on you meant nothing,” he grunted, his thumb pressing hard against your swollen clit, grinding against it as his fingers continued their brutal work inside. You cried out, your body arching, the sensations too intense, too raw. He continued, his fingers a slick, messy whirlwind within you, until your muscles clenched around his hand, a shuddering orgasm ripping through you. The sounds were wet - desperate, rather, a testament to his forceful invasion.

Kenma held you pinned, his fingers still buried deep, feeling the violent tremors of your release. “Still think they deserved to look?” he whispered, his voice thick with a possessive hunger, frown replaced with a mocking smirk painted across his face, hands now soaked in the aftermath of your orgasm.

©ctrlkenma, 2025. no redistribution, translation or plagiarism is authorized.

1K notes · View notes

starcurtain · 2 months ago

Text

Comparing Phaidei and Other Hoyo MLM Ships (Part 1)

I barely know how to begin, honestly, because I'm still so taken aback by the absolute Phaidei feast that was 3.1. But perhaps because we were so overfed by the patch, I was actually jarred a little out of the story itself--too busy turning over the broader ramifications of such blatant queer-coding of two male characters in a modern Hoyoverse game.

Of course, Hoyo isn't remotely new to queer-coding their characters (or to queer-baiting, either, gacha games gotta hustle at all times). They absolutely have a history of hinting at both WLW and MLM ships and of including fanservice between the player's MC and other playable characters regardless of gender. Strangely enough, due to the unique confluence of their target audiences' tastes, the Hoyoverse team has an active profit motive to create gay characters:

WLW ships are appealing to heterosexual male players.

MLM ships are appealing to heterosexual female players.

Simultaneously, WLW and MLM ships are appealing to queer players.

Heterosexual ships with characters other than the MC are unappealing to a large percentage of the game's playerbase, particularly to heterosexual male players who want to keep their waifus to themselves but also to female yumeshippers.

Hoyo's market is literally telling them that 1) male characters sell better when they're ship-baited with other male characters, and 2) players don't actually want heterosexual ships between playable characters if the MC isn't involved. (Hell, look at Firefly--players hate romances with the MC too lol!)

But at the same time as the market is telling the devs to keep making queer characters, Hoyoverse also faces immense social pressure to avoid including actual queer content.

Let me hold off on the political and legal consequences of including gay characters in Chinese media for just a second, and look at the situation from the perspective of Hoyo's target audiences first:

Take this data with a grain of salt though; I'm not sure where they got their numbers.

First, Hoyoverse games are increasingly global and surprisingly popular in conservative/religious countries such as Russia, Malaysia, and the UAE. The western world as a whole is shifting increasingly right on LGBT+ issues. For the games to be marketed well across the globe, they've got to avoid challenging the morals of these highly varied audiences. (Perhaps this is why past Hoyoverse titles seemed more open to LGBT+ content than present Hoyoverse games do; a broader audience actually means more restrictions on content.)

Second, even though conservative heterosexual male players are actually surprisingly fine with MLM ship tease, that only applies so long as it stays at the level of "I can pretend I don't see it." As long as anti-LGBT+ players can write off any MLM content as "just close friends," the dev team can get away with frankly shocking amounts of queer interaction between male characters. (I'm sorry to any straight male fans reading this [could there possibly be any?], but half of y'all could win gold medals if mental gymnastics were a sport. The lengths I have seen some male Genshin players go to try to explain away Haikaveh are honestly awe-inspiring. 😂) However, the boundary must be respected. The moment a male character's queerness exceeds subtext and becomes text, when even mental gymnastics cannot come up with a heterosexual explanation, and the plausible deniability goes out the window, it is no longer acceptable to anti-LGBT+ players, and they will be "turned off" from pulling that male character en masse. In essence, the market is telling the devs: 1) Huge amounts of queer-coding = a-okay, but 2) Actual canon queer content = that's gayyyy, no wayyyy.

And third, the obvious: China's stance on LGBT+ people is weirdly stricter in media than it is in "real" life. It is not illegal to be gay in China but it is illegal to be gay in a video game in China. Restrictions on media portrayals of gayness are significantly more strict than restrictions on actually being gay (which is interesting cognitive dissonance for those from outside the country, but that's an essay for another day). Hoyoverse legally cannot show characters engaged in any explicitly queer behaviors--at least that can't be explained away.

Furthermore, the rules apply very differently for male and female characters. WLW content gets way more of a pass from the censors. Bronya and Seele can blush at each other, but Alhaitham and Kaveh cannot. You would never see "Rondo Across Countless Kalpas" happening with male Hoyoverse characters. The censors literally would not allow it, strictly because Chinese standards for portrayals of men are different--and more strict!--than standards for portraying women. Legally, there are strong and serious limitations on what Hoyo can do with their male characters.

Summing all of this up, in trying to create their male characters and content, Hoyoverse is actually fighting a battle of conflicting pressures: Male characters sell better when they are queer-coded, but their interactions can never rise to the level of being canonically gay.

Everything must exist in the realm of implication.

(Yes, I can hear you: "Can you please get to Phaidei already?" 😂)

All of this foreword was to lay a foundation for the actual point I want to make about Phaidei: Because Hoyoverse can only queer-code and not actually queer their male characters, they have (in their modern games), fallen into a sort of pattern with their MLM ship bait. Certain plots and personalities keeps reappearing again and again. They've developed a sort of short-hand set of traits to give to their male characters--the Hoyoverse "queer-coded MLM starter pack" if you will lol.

While not every popular MLM ship in Hoyo's games has the same traits (obviously not), certain elements seem central to creating the delicate necessary gray area between "They're just baiting fangirls" and "The devs intended these two characters to be canonically gay but just couldn't state that textually."

And yet... And yet...

You're not imagining things: Phaidei is actually different.

To demonstrate just how different though, I wanted to take the time to compare Phaidei with other popular Hoyoverse MLM ships, looking at both the similarities (the patterns that Hoyo relies on to reliably queer-code their characters) and the noticeable differences (where Hoyo pushed their own boundaries in surprising ways).

Unfortunately, in the interest of full transparency, my own Hoyoverse experience is limited, so I can only use examples from Star Rail and Genshin Impact. I just haven't played HI3 or ZZZ, so I don't feel comfortable trying to use examples from those games, although I think there may be many ships that fall into similar patterns in those games as well. (Maybe some people can share in the comments?)

Anyway, let's start with similarities:

1. A Pair of Equals

The number one "rule" for popular Hoyoverse queer-coded MLM ships is that the two characters must be evenly matched. This isn't to say they have to have identical levels of physical strength (although that is also often the case); instead, the audience needs to perceive them as being on equal footing in some way. They must either be intellectual equals (Alhaitham and Kaveh), political equals (Ratio and Aventurine; Neuvillette and Wriothesley), equal in social standing (Tighnari and Cyno), or, yes, actually physically equal their capability for going toe-to-toe against each other (Blade and Dan Heng; possibly Zhongli and Childe; for those who ship it, Diluc and Kaeya).

For modern Hoyo games, queer-coded MLM ships with noticeable discrepancies in power dynamics are particularly rare; possibly the only one that comes to mind is Ayato/Thoma (though this is mitigated by the game deliberately telling us that Ayato treats Thoma like family, rather than like a servant). And I think this actually says a lot about the devs' thought process: They are deliberately avoiding scenarios in which one male character seems capable of "preying" on another, where the queer-coding could accidentally be perceived as sexual perversion due to a discrepancy in power dynamics.

They're intentionally averting the "depraved homosexual" trope by--sometimes literally--spelling out for the players that both male characters in their queer-coded MLM ships perceive each other as, and are interested in each other as, equals.

We see this explicitly with Ratio and Aventurine in Star Rail:

And Alhaitham and Kaveh in Genshin:

Even Blade and Dan Heng are likened to "a pair" of identical objects:

So of course, Phainon and Mydei push this to an extreme. Phainon describes himself and Mydei as "friends and foes," and the game goes out of it way to reiterate over and over that they are perfect equals. Although they compete in everything they do, there is never a clear victor; their score card is constantly balancing out because they match each other's skill and power perfectly.

But there are even hints in the game that this isn't just happening naturally, but also by choice: Even when one of them triumphs over the other, they both backtrack and insist on getting on equal standing again. Whether you win or lose the "competition" in Kremnos in 3.0, the outcome is the same:

Phainon and Mydei perceive each other as perfectly matched (in strength, right, right...) and are actively working to keep it that way.

The game also goes out of its way to insist that Mydei and Phainon aren't just equals in terms of strength but also in social standing. It theoretically should be impossible to match Mydei's place on the social ladder--he's the literal crown prince of an entire nation of world-renowned conquerors. Even Aglaea is not a queen; we see her on screen being forced to contend with Okhema's Council who are fighting her for power. There technically isn't anyone in Amphoreus (at least that we've met so far) who should be able to stand on equal political or administrative footing to Mydei.

Except, of course, for Phainon, who supersedes all others by virtue of being the literal prodigal son, the "Chosen One."

The game insists on putting this in our faces over and over again: Mydei may be a king in the making, but Phainon is the "Deliverer." They are equally matched in terms of authority.

The game even goes out of its way to tell us they're perfect mirrors in personality too:

Hoyo, in the kitchen cooking up another gay ship: LISTEN GUYS, they're equals, do you understand me? A MATCHING SET.

But also...

2. Diametrically Opposed

It isn't enough for the queer-coded men to be each other's perfect equals. They also have to be opposites, typically in terms of their personalities. This is the pattern that repeats itself most consistently across Hoyoverse MLM ships with strong textual support: the two men may be equal, but they're also nothing alike. (At least on the surface.)

Alhaitham and Kaveh's entire plot hinges on their directly opposing personalities and morals, representing the clash between rationality and sensibility. Dan Feng was reserved and cool-tempered, while Yingxing was "arrogant" and brash. Hell, Xingqiu and Chongyun are "refined and clever" versus "forthright and trusting." I actually think Zhongli and Childe, despite being the most popular Hoyoverse ship in the western fandom, have very little canonical support, yet they still fit this pattern, with Zhongli as the refined gentleman to Tartaglia's blood knight tendencies.

We know how Ratio sees himself and Aventurine:

Hoyo really said "Opposites attract" and ran with it for every single MLM ship they ever teased.

And there's a logical reason for this. Making the two male characters dead opposites actually slightly decreases people's ability to argue that they're "just friends"--if they have next to nothing in common, they're not usually bonding over mutual hobbies or basing their connection on shared similarities. It becomes harder to portray two male characters as "bros who just get along great" when they're deliberately written with opposing tastes and personalities. (Real friends can sometimes be dead opposites, obviously, but most friendships are built on mutual interests rather than opposing ones, while romantic relationships hilariously have the "opposites attract" stereotype.)

There's no reason to shove polar opposites together again and again except to watch the sparks fly.

Even Hoyo's male characters' color schemes are often perfectly opposite. Plenty of people have figured out if you palette swap Alhaitham and Kaveh, Dan Heng and Blade, and Ratio and Aventurine, you end up with the same colors. Ayato and Thoma match the pattern here too ("red and blue gays" is a well-known trope).

But once again, the devs pulled out ALL the stops for Phaidei:

They're red versus blue. They're sun and moon. They're outgoing versus introverted. They're a king and a peasant (if we believe what Phainon's telling us about Aedes Elysiae). They're the "outsider" and the "golden boy." One fights with strength and the other with technique, brains versus brawn (actually they're both kind of idiots though, so take this one lightly lol).

However, what I think is most interesting about Hoyo's pairs of MLM opposites that is that the devs deliberately subvert expectations by assigning the opposing traits to the "unexpected" character. In both Haikaveh and Ratiorine, it's the rational scholar who is more overtly caring and attuned to their partner's feelings. In Renheng, it's the kind-hearted Yingxing who is consumed by anger, while the aloof, expressionless Dan Heng's voice trembles in wonder at the mere mention of Yingxing's name.

For Phainon and Mydei, this inversion of opposite traits occurs with their personalities specifically. People expected Mydei to be a gruff, hot-headed, battle-hungry berserker with a sarcastic or arrogant personality at best.

Instead, Mydei is an extremely thoughtful person, who struggles with his fate not because of what will happen to himself but because of a desire to bring the greatest good to the greatest number of his people. He's a respectful, gentle (when he needs to be), and even sentimental young man who continues to hold on to love for those who have long passed away. He's reserved around strangers but generous and warm to his companions, and struggles to express himself but has a clear desire to be considerate of others.

We also know he's deeply aware of and emotionally affected by the racism his people are experiencing in Okhema; one NPC in Okhema reports how Mydei, despite being new to Okhema himself, stood up to the very council still plaguing Aglaea in order to protect his people:

Despite having difficulties expressing his own thoughts, he even scolds Phainon for approaching their farewell with a nonchalant expression--Mydei doesn't reject emotions or shy away from becoming close with people he cares for.

Instead, it's Phainon who actually struggles to be honest. While he might connect easily with others on the surface, seeming outgoing and kind-hearted, he is actually a much more private person, one who is reluctant to show his true feelings and dismissive of questions about his past and identity. As opposed to Mydei's desire to avoid Nikador's power, Phainon is (despite his doubts) eager to prove himself, spurned on by the pressure of the prophecy telling him he needs to achieve greatness. We're told that he craved the power of strife specifically, while Mydei summarily wishes to reject it.

It's Phainon who frequently has to be reined in by others--he was ready to kill Oronyx for delaying his rescue of Mydei--and Phainon who fails to let go of his hatred and desire for revenge, causing him to fail Nikador's trial, which Mydei easily clears.

By inverting the traits of the characters, creating designs which visually oppose each other while assigning the actual opposing personality traits to the "mismatched" character, the devs hammer home an implicit message: These two characters complete each other. They fill in each other's gaps. What you expected to find in one of these men, you will instead find in the other. What they wish to be, they will be drawn to in each other.

(Frequently bought together, do not separate!)

3. The Distance is Artificial

Okay, so if they're so obviously written as a "pair," being perfect equals and perfect opposites, how are they just "queer-coded" and not explicitly queer? How is Hoyo keeping up the illusion of the characters not being an obvious couple when they're literally written to complete each other?

Hoyo has one major tool in their arsenal to do this: Prickly personalities.

With the exception of Renheng, which I'll get to in a second, Hoyo has a favorite method for enforcing the rule of plausible deniability, the idea that "Nooo, we promise, they're not in love; they don't even like each other, see??"--and that's giving one of the characters an intractable personality.

This can manifest, like Alhaitham and Kaveh, as constant bickering, where the pair's main method of communication is to devolve into petty arguments or sarcastic quips.

Fans who support the ship can view this as an "old married couple" dynamic; but for those who do not support the ship and choose to insist that Hoyo isn't actually queer-coding their male characters, they can lean on these arguments as "proof" that the characters don't actually love each other.

A similar pattern was recently repeated with Sethos/Wanderer, with Wanderer's prickly personality being used to keep Sethos at bay.

By placing the characters at odds with each other through bickering, Hoyo introduces just enough doubt to make the "They're only friends/roommates, we promise" argument hold some water. This allows them to get--quite honestly--a lot of queer content past the censors and past homophobic audiences too.

We see them repeat this trope with Aventurine and Ratio in Star Rail, introducing the two characters as initially "at odds" with each other and trying to pass it off as Ratio despising Aventurine.

Even after revealing that they were plotting together, the game insists on introducing some lingering doubts, suggesting that Aventurine fears Ratio would actually betray him.

This creates the necessary "gray area," the gap that Hoyo can use to hide in--no, Aventurine doesn't trust Ratio at all, see? Maybe they don't even like each other? Who knows! The doubt doesn't exist because the story particularly needs it, but simply so that Hoyo has a shield to hide behind if people begin to question how close the two male characters are.

Even in comedic material, Hoyo intentionally keeps this "necessary distance" in order to allow themselves wiggle room. Is Ratio an enamored tsundere who can't spit his real feelings out, or does he actually think Aventurine is illogical, mediocre, and ridiculous? Was the "Keeping Up With Star Rail" video an example of Hoyo deliberately baiting by making Ratio flustered over Aventurine "on air," or is he being Aventurine's biggest hater in this clip?

It's just questionable enough that those players who hate MLM to interpret it as the latter, and provides just enough doubt to help Hoyo slip queer-coding under the radar. Those who want to see it will see, while it's written just vaguely enough that those who don't want to see it will not see it.

(That's the point Owlbert, that's the point.)

When in doubt, and when stuck with a pair of characters who aren't likely to bicker with words, Hoyo sometimes has to progress to the next level: making them actual enemies.

What's better for creating plausible deniability than one of them trying to kill the other? (They definitely were not fooling around in a past life. We promise.) In an ironic twist with Renheng in particular, the fandom seems to have somehow come to the (mistaken) consensus that Dan Feng and Yingxing were "confirmed canon" (truly, I see this stated everywhere; we love when reading comprehension fails in the right direction for once lol), leaving only Dan Heng/Blade as being of questionable "canonicity." However, this still works as far as Hoyo is concerned, because only Dan Heng and Blade are left on screen.

By insisting on their present inability to reconcile, Blade and Dan Heng are able to introduce just enough doubt into the equation to offset even significant ship tease for Dan Feng/Yingxing.

Enemies to lovers 150k+ slow burn, please look forward to it.

Okay, but back to Phaidei. At first, it seems like Phaidei is going to follow this pattern to a T: When Phainon first introduces Trailblazer to Mydei, the two seem to be at odds, bickering over how Mydei is choosing to confront the enemy. Mydei even calls Phainon out for an unintentionally insensitive statement (when Phainon demands to know why Mydei isn't "protecting the citizens," Mydei asks "Who are you implying is not a citizen here?" i.e., "Are you saying because I'm Kremnoan I don't count as a citizen?" You can see Phainon practically bite his tongue to take back his words.)

Also known as: Mydei experiences a microaggression.

Mydei's very first line directly to the Trailblazer is to insult Phainon's hospitality, and we know they definitely have plenty of silly insults to lob at each other while competing.

But this is actually where we see the first deviation from the pattern for Phaidei. Although there's a few cursory lines throughout their early dialogue, that's all there ever is--just cursory attempts at suggesting the two bicker and don't get along.

Within one scene, the "tension" present in their first meeting entirely devolves into purely playful banter, and it is clear by the time we finish 3.0 that Phainon and Mydei are actually very close and get along well, with virtually none of Haikaveh's biting comments, Blade and Dan Heng's violence, or Aventurine and Ratio's questions of loyalty. Phainon and Mydei took one look at the rest of Hoyoverse's MLM ships and said "How about we skip that will they-won't they?" lol.

But I'm not quite ready to talk about the places where Phaidei departs from the normal pattern yet, so I'll leave this point by just saying that Hoyo did start Phaidei on the same path as a majority of their other MLM ships, making a vague attempt at using their rivalry to suggest they wouldn't get along--thereby allowing for the alternative interpretation to quiet the haters (and the censors).

4. The (Physical) Distance is Non-Existent

Okay, but if Hoyo uses personalities to inject just enough distance into their queer-coded pairings to avoid crossing any boundaries, then what do they do to tantalize the audience, to make it seem like the characters might actually like each other?

They use body language!

First, just to reiterate a basic video game design principle: All animations and character placements have to be programmed by someone, and that means that all animations and the physical locations of characters in scenes are intentional. Nothing happens in cutscenes by accident.

Designers are constantly making a series of choices any time they have to put together a cutscene, and one of the key choices they have to make is how to express each character through their movements and their positions relative to other characters. (I've talked before, for example, about how Aventurine frequently turns his back on people, forcing their eyes to follow him throughout his cutscenes, taking physical control of the reactions of people around him.)

Hoyoverse games have somewhat standardized scene layouts for conversation cutscenes, with characters typically being placed at different distances from each other depending on their relationships. A majority of conversations happen from a generally cordial conversational distance, which means that any time characters cross this gap and close the distance, the dev team is intentionally sending the players a message.

Like, no one mistook what this was about, right?

Heterosexual jumpscare in my queer post; I'm sorry, I was just too tired to find a video with Lumine lol.

Repeating for good measure: Unless it is with a male playable main character (where the presence of the female main character is what lends the deniability), Hoyo legally cannot show their male characters engaging in physical contact that could be construed as romantic. Male characters can't hold hands; they can't even really hug unless it's "caught you as you fell after battle" (props to Dan Heng for being the only male character in Star Rail to get a "hug" with Jing Yuan lol.) There's a boundary that Hoyo male characters do not cross, and that's almost universally the realm of physical touch.

But Hoyo can place their queer-coded male characters into scenarios of physical closeness that they don't typically show among other characters.

Alhaitham and Kaveh's table says hello.

So does Tighnari and Cyno's single tent from this same quest; Cyno's Story 2, truly the quest that kept on giving.

Aventurine, a character who traditionally keeps half a room's distance between himself and the people he's talking to, suddenly doesn't seem to mind closing the distance with Ratio:

And even Renheng, the eternal enemies, are depicted as crossing physical boundaries, explicitly "getting in each other's faces." Yes it's a battle, but also, I've seen yaoi with less domineering poses lol.

You might think these lightcone examples are a stretch, but seriously: Go look at all the lightcones in the game. Does a single heterosexual couple have a lightcone where they are in each other's space in this manner? No, because physical closeness is actually a tool Hoyo is consistently using to queer-code. (Well, there would probably be more heterosexual closeness too if the incels weren't so weird...)

Anyway, when I saw the devs might be heading the direction of baiting Phaidei, I fully expected that we would see them side-by-side more consistently and with less of a gap between them than between other characters. But I wasn't remotely ready for the degree to which Hoyo would take that.

Here is an example of Phaidei exhibiting the "normal" Star Rail conversational distance:

Andddd... here's where they spend the other 90% of their scenes together:

The unnecessarily large distance between them and the Trailblazer gets me every time. Like they are not leaving room for Jesus Kephale.

Even when they aren't standing practically on top of each other, the devs deliberately choose camera angles that frame them both in the cutscene at the same time, which is relatively rare for Star Rail (not unheard of, but usually the camera will just go for the "first person POV" when two people are speaking, allowing for a close up of the speaking character). Instead of back-and-forth close ups, many of Mydei and Phainon's conversations are framed from a "behind-the-shoulder" angle, to catch them both in the frame. This creates the illusion that they're standing closer together than they are, and also reinforces a sense of intimacy in their conversations--the camera (and thus the player) becomes an "outsider" while their bodies turn toward each other.

Again, Hoyoverse is under pressure to avoid showing physical contact between male characters that could be construed romantically. They can't show Mydei and Phainon tangoing like Black Swan and Acheron. When it comes to queer-coding male characters, they have to use the tools available to them, and their primary tool for visually signifying the possibility of romantic closeness is physical closeness.

The camera is telling you that Mydei and Phainon are close.

Anyway, just one more point I wanted to make before moving on to discussing how Phaidei completely crushed the mold for Hoyoverse queer-coding, but...

5. Oh God, We're Turning Into Your Parents

Listen, I'm a reasonable person. I can fully accept that I play games with LGBT+ goggles on at all times. Despite being fantastically aroace myself, I love yaoi. I love yuri. I even like plenty of straight ships. I'm a fangirl first, academic second, so believe me when I say that I understand how skeptics might view some of the points above. "You're just fangirling. Being equals and opposites doesn't automatically imply romance. The devs might have intended close friendship, not a relationship." This counter-argument is valid!

So I want to end with one more point which I think is actually the lynch pin to proving that Hoyoverse isn't "accidentally" making their male characters come across as queer. Hoyo's queer-coding for certain ships is very intentional and even sometimes very overt. In a few cases prior to Phaidei, they were already skirting the upper limits of plausible deniability, and I think the modern ship that previously pushed the boundary the most is Haikaveh.

You can say what you want about other Hoyo MLM ships and their lack of canon textual support (I love you ZhongChi, even if the devs actually hate you lol), but I believe people who unironically say "The devs are not baiting Alhaitham and Kaveh as a ship" are so media illiterate that it's actually embarrassing to share air with them. Whether you think the devs are just doing it to cash in on yaoi fangirls or because they actually want to depict gay characters, it is indisputable at this point that Alhaitham and Kaveh have in-game ship tease. They just do, and one of the most obvious and unmistakable instances of this is when Kaveh's hangout paralleled Kaveh's relationship with Alhaitham to the heterosexual marriage between Kaveh's mother and father.

To draw a direct connection between Kaveh's father and Alhaitham, who is repeatedly described as not being able to understand Kaveh's artistic sensibilities and idealistic world view but nevertheless chooses to stay by Kaveh's side through his many troubles, while simultaneously reinforcing the idea that Kaveh is his mother's spitting image, both physically and emotionally, can really not be interpreted in any other way.

Hoyoverse took a queer relationship and made a one-for-one analogy to a heterosexual relationship--Alhaitham and Kaveh are a direct reflection of Kaveh's very married parents.

This isn't something that can happen on accident. This is deliberate and unmistakable queer-coding.

Which makes it absolutely wild that it happened twice.

I've posted already about the obvious parallels between Mydei's parents and Phaidei, and I'm actually almost out of room for new images here, so I can't post the images again, but I hardly need to at this point: Mydei's parents met when Gorgo challenged Eurypon at the Kremnos Festival. They fought for ten rounds, determined that they were (what do you know) perfect equals, and Eurypon proposed on the spot. Eurypon is explicitly described as a swordmaster, while Gorgo used a spear.

Later, the game repeatedly (and in various separate instances), emphasizes that Mydei and Phainon's first meeting consisted of a duel lasting ten days and ten nights, where neither of them could secure the victory, proving them to also be each other's perfect equals. Phainon's role as Okhema's swordmaster is emphasized, while Mydei wields a spear just like his mother when killing his father and after taking on Nikador's divinity.

Then there's... everything that came after. Eurypon betrayed Gorgo, effectively stabbing her in the back, and took her life. The foreshadowing that Phainon will do this exact same thing to Mydei is unmissable.

Phainon has even expressed an explicit desire to take part in the same competition where Mydei's father crowned the winner his wife:

In the (very limited) Kremnoan dictionary, I'm pretty sure this is how you say "I'm down to fuck."

Just as in the case with Haikaveh, there is no way that this parallel could have occurred by accident. The devs did not go out of their way to give us entire flashbacks of Gorgo and Eurypon's meeting and downfall for no reason. You're supposed to see the one-for-one connection between Mydei's very heterosexual, married parents and Phainon and Mydei's relationship.

Simultaneously, the devs also parallel their MLM ships to heterosexual relations by incorporating shades of domesticity normally reserved for "traditional" male-female relationships into their MLM ships--including levels of domesticity that heterosexual ships in Genshin and Star Rail usually don't rise to. One of Genshin's most popular MLM ships shares a single-family home and has a chore chart. Thoma is Ayato's housekeeper. Tighnari and Cyno are just flat-out joint raising a child. Jiaoqiu cooks and Moze cleans. Yingxing and Dan Feng accidentally(?) made a baby.

And Phainon and Mydei aren't any exception. They live an apocalyptic world that is constantly calling them away to battle, but the devs went out of their way to tell us Mydei is an extremely good cook who prepares everyone's food and deliberately ruins Phainon's when he's annoying, which is definitely old married couple behavior lol. Mydei is framed repeatedly as being good with children, not just in the distant fatherly way but in the "plays house" and follows-along-after-unaccompanied-kids-like-a-mother-hen way. Yet when Mydei has to leave, taking the classic "I'm going off to war" ancient Greek exit, he doesn't depart without leaving Phainon his people--with the camera panning specifically to the little Kremnoans. Phainon got the kids in the divorce. D; The tragic domesticity is already off the charts, and then they hit you the second punch when Mydei's last question (just one or two lines later) confirms that it was Phainon who got the ring for him. Hoyo couldn't actually have given us a more heavy-handed "parting husband and wife" parallel if someone held them at gunpoint. That whole thing was some Odyssey level bullshit. I see you devs, I see you.

You might be tempted to say that is just heteronormativity, which it could be, but I actually think it serves a very specific place in Hoyo's queer-coding repertoire. In comparing gay relationships to heterosexual marriages, the devs effectively "legitimize" their queer characters, suggesting that the relationships between gay male characters are no less real or valid than those between men and women. In demonstrating that male characters can achieve stable and healthy domestic lives with each other, the devs reiterate that players are not supposed to notice a difference between gay and heterosexual relationships.

There isn't any clearer way for Hoyoverse to legally say "We want you to think of these two men as romantic partners" than to say "Wow, isn't it interesting that their relationship is identical to a married couple's." It's on purpose; at this point, you really can't say the queer-coding isn't deliberate without looking like you can't read, and if it was intentional when Haikaveh paralleled Kaveh's parents, then it was doubly so the second time Hoyoverse pulled this trick to parallel Phaidei to Mydei's parents.

PHEW! Okay, I finally made it through the foundational traits for Hoyoverse MLM ship-bait and where Phaidei fits in with those. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk! 😂

But... the whole reason I started this post was actually because I wanted to talk about differences between Phaidei and other Hoyoverse MLM ships, and particularly how bold Hoyo actually was in 3.1, pushing the envelop to an extreme degree to ship-tease Phainon and Mydei.

So, since the post was way, way too long, I've spit the rest of my point off into a second post.

Check out Part 2 over here. ->

#honkai star rail #phaidei #mydei #phainon #hoyoverse #queer-coding #guess I should tag the other ships too #haikaveh #renheng #ratiorine #I feel like there's no point in me making a post trying to prove Phaidei is “real”#because you'd almost have to be blind to not see the obvious bait #so instead here is a post about how Hoyoverse has somehow gotten themselves into the bizarre market situation #where even their male majority audience actually hates straight ships #and every other character is queer-coded because that's what the market demands #oh phaidei #the ship that you are #they queer-coded too hard and had to pull a bury-your-gays on Mydei though #RIP

795 notes · View notes

aliteralsemicolon · 8 months ago

Text

Yours - 18+

Main masterlist | AU Masterlist

Spencer never thought he’d be lucky enough to find you, but he has. You have all his devotion and all he hopes for in return is for you to let him stay yours.

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story contains strong themes and detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact! You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNING: Smut: softdom! Spencer, grinding, hickies, penetration, PinV, unprotected sex (this can lead to babies & stds btw, avoid this by being fivehead and using a condom), creampie. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 5.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

The question regarding the existence of soulmates is not a question that can be answered using science. Any individual’s answer to the question is more of a personal belief than a factual answer. And as a man of science, one would think that Spencer Reid would at least attempt to refute the ideology when asked.

The ideology that he himself is not whole, but only half of an intertwined soul. That another person is not only his other half, but also his better half. Somebody with whom he shares such a natural, deep understanding, that he feels complete simply by existing in their presence. It’s one of those phenomena he can’t explain, but only this one, he’s confident is true.

“Spence?” A light nudge accompanied by the whisper of his name breaks him away from his thoughts.

“Hm?” He blinks rapidly, focusing his eyesight on your curious face with a matching look.

The light from a singular bedside lamp only reaches half of his face. It casts a beautiful, soft contrast on his sharp features. The gold that’s usually hidden by the brown makes his irises look like sparkling pools of honey. Ethereal -not a word you would use when normally describing a man- but that’s how he looks.

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

He hadn’t ever thought he could believe in such a thing. Mostly because he’d always been sure that he would never experience it.

“Do you?” His voice carries your question back to you.

You can hear the city buzzing outside. Cars honking angrily in a futile attempt to speed up the pace of the traffic. People conversing, arguing, laughing. Loud thuds of music from the upstairs neighbour who cares little about the piling noise complaints. Somehow, the hum of Spencer’s words is the only sound that your ears register.

“I asked first.” You playfully scoff, breaking eye contact and swivelling your head straight.

Spencer mirrors your motions, both of you now facing the ceiling as you remain side by side on his bed.

“Yes.” His answer is barely above a whisper.

It seems that your bodies want to make up for lost contact. You can feel his pinky reaching out to touch yours as you meet him halfway.

“Me too.”

A comfortable silence takes over the conversation. Everything feels still. The only movement is that of his fingers grazing against yours. He’s touched you in far more personal places tonight alone, and this is still one of your most intimate moments. There are no expectations or hidden agendas. This is simply the two of you existing in each other's presence; his preferred way to exist. It stretches until another inane question makes its way to the forefront of your mind.

“Do you ever wonder if you’ll get to meet them in this lifetime?”

He pushes his frame up and rotates to face you as he sinks back down to the mattress. His head rests on the arm folded below it. You turn your head back to him so that you’re both holding eye contact again.

“No.” He mouths the answer, his voice hesitant to raise at first. “I wonder whether mine is a romantic bond or platonic.”

Your stomach flutters at the insinuation and you shift to mirror his position this time. In the midst of shuffling, the two of you seem to have closed a good chunk of the distance between you.

“What do you want it to be?” You whisper, entranced by his gaze.

Two of his knuckles lightly skim your cheek before those fingers brush your hair away from you. The act alone is enough to make your face heat up, no matter how many times he’s done it before. He begins to lazily stroke your hair, scratching your head in the process. It gives you the same tingling sensation you get from some rare ASMR videos.

You don’t follow up on your question, unable to remember anything that was on your mind beforehand. His touch, combined with the minimal lighting and close proximity provides you with a sense of security you rarely feel otherwise. Your lids begin to grow heavy and you're forced to break eye contact when the weight of them becomes too much.

“That’s really distracting y’know.” You mumble, eyes closed and voice hazy.

“I know.” He mutters, almost without sound.

He can’t help his smile as he watches you drift to sleep. He’s studied every feature on your face at least a hundred times and he’s yet to find a single flaw. The fact that you’re okay with being this vulnerable with him is a privilege that he’ll thank any and every deity he doesn’t even believe in for. Faint snoring indicates that you’re now dead to the world, but he can’t let your previous question go unanswered.

“Whichever one allows me to be yours forever.”

Waking up to the warmth of your body pressed against his is by no means a recent development in your relationship with Spencer. Your back is to his chest and his arm is draped across your stomach, trapping you against him. Not that you mind. You’ve been lying still as you are for almost a while now, your thumb caressing the side of his wrist. With a yawn nuzzled into your neck, Spencer attempts to pull you closer to him, closing distance that was never there to begin with.

He can feel the rise and drop of your chest; you can feel the beating of his heart behind yours. Neither of you is fully awake yet, opting to enjoy the silence and comfort of the other's presence. Your bodies are so closely tangled that your skin is almost melding with each other.

Almost.

The unexpected brushing of his hardness against your ass sends a jolt of electricity passing through you, waking you up in an instant. If it were anybody else, perhaps you would’ve felt ashamed of how that passing moment made your insides jump. You definitely wouldn’t have arched your barely clothed cunt towards the obstruction. A sharp exhale fans across the back of your neck, and you can practically feel the corners of his lips pull into a lazy smirk.

“Well, good morning.” A groggy voice leans into your ear and the grip on your belly tightens.

“Morning.” You breathe out, barely audible.

You feel yourself clench around nothing when a hot, sticky kiss lands just behind your ear. Your arch intensifies when another one lands below your jaw and you unintentionally grind against him. It earns you a low grunt from him, which only prompts you to repeat the motion without thinking. His head drops in the nook of your shoulder, taken slightly off guard. He meets you halfway the third time, and it sets both your hips in a slow motion of rubbing against each other.

He can hear you hum each time his confined erection strokes your bundle of nerves and it sparks a determination in him to get more out of you. His hand trails from your abdomen to your pelvis, stopping just at the band of your underwear. He tugs the fabric, not making any further moves until you allow him to. You know that if you don’t take control now he’s going to prolong his foreplay, something you don’t have the patience for right now. He always makes it a point to make you finish at least once before he even considers himself.

Out of the four times you came the night before, three of them were with his head between your thighs. You can’t even count the number of times you’ve teased him about how he probably gets off on pleasing you more than you do. You surprise him when you grab his hand and push it away from you, swinging yourself around to straddle him. Your hands land on either side of his head and you lower your forehead to rest against his.

“Nuh-uh!” You taunt and it makes him snort.

His palms trace your sides, arms wrapping around you, pulling your torso down to him.

“You’re not allowed to touch me this time.” You add in a hushed tone.

“No?” His brows raise in amusement.

“No.”

You barely breathe out the word when his arms drop from around you. A slight chill takes over the area.

“No!” You repeat in a whiny tone, pushing yourself to sit up.

You’re looking down on him from this angle, and God, does he look beautiful. His fluffy, sleep-tousled hair frames his face beautifully, the faint light of the rising sun only adding to the sight.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it!”

“I don’t know. You need to be clearer with what you want.” He chuckles.

“I want you to stop being a little shit.” You retort, reaching for his hands.

You attempt to settle them on your thighs, but he removes them again.

“I’m not allowed to touch you. Remember?” He emphasises the word allowed on purpose.

Both of you know that he’s the only one allowed to touch you and vice versa. Even if it wasn't something you both agreed upon, you’d never let anybody else touch you like him. If they even knew how to.

“You can touch me.” You roll your eyes, pulling his hands back to your skin. “But you can’t fuck me with anything other than your dick.”

Your curt tone doesn’t surprise him. He’s used to your boldness. Using your hips, he pulls you down onto his bulge completely. You don’t anticipate the sudden friction and it takes everything in you to not topple over on him. Spencer wasn’t prepared for the impact of his actions either, his head lolling back as he hisses sharply.

“Yeah?” He questions through half gritted teeth.

He’s painfully hard and the current view isn’t helping. He can clearly make out the shape of your curves under your flimsy t-shirt. How it drapes on the apex of your breasts, how the hem pools just above your thighs. His grip tightens against the plush of your skin.

“Mhm.” You breathe out, eyes fluttering as you keep your core pressed to him.

“Words, sweet girl. Use your words.” His breathing is laboured and it’s taking all of his willpower to not rut his dick back up against you.

The praise breaks you. You can no longer hold yourself up, falling into his chest.

“Please fuck me.” You can only whisper in his ear, sending chills down his spine.

He groans, grabbing you by the waist and flipping both of you around so you’re the one lying on the bed. It seems that he’s become just as impatient as you, if not more. He captures your lips in a deep, demanding kiss as he tugs his boxers just enough for his length to spring free. His tongue swipes your lips, seeking entrance and you grant it to him. He finds your kisses addicting. It takes an incredible amount of willpower to break them, but he does, sitting up on his knees.

He parts your legs, placing one on either side of him and yanking you closer to him. You squeak in response, not processing the action until your cores are once again pressed together. You sigh when he pushes your panties to the side and runs a finger up your slit. A satisfied hum escapes him when he learns just how aroused you are. You sigh when runs his tip against you next, lining himself up with your cunt and pushing just the tip inside. Each of his hands intertwine with yours as he moves them above your head. He then leans in and plants a feather-light kiss on your cheek.

“Like this?” He whispers in your ear.

He pushes in a little more and pulls out just enough for him to stay lined.

“More!” You whine, breathlessly, brows furrowing from anticipation.

“Mhm.” He doesn’t properly acknowledge your desperation and instead latches onto the skin under your jaw, sucking gently.

You sigh at the sensation, arching more as his shaft pushes in again. This time, he doesn’t stop until he’s completely bottomed out. You moan and squeeze his hands, still intertwined with yours above your head. You never expect how full he makes you feel. Spencer squeezes your hands in return, still reeling in from how well your cunt accommodates him. He takes a minute, resting himself inside you to allow time for both of you to adjust to the feeling.

He releases your skin with a small pop and moves a new spot on your neck. You think about how you’re going to have to use concealer to hide the marks he’s surely leaving behind and it makes you clench around him. The effect on him is instantaneous, a harsh groan vibrating against your throat and he sucks harder. The sound only makes your walls tighten more and it cues him to start thrusting.

The initial pace is slow, but calculated; the kind that makes your joints loosen and jaw slack. He takes the opportunity to capture your lips in another long and consuming kiss. A loud moan ripples out from both of you and your hands deepen their hold on each other. Spencer’s not shy about letting you hear how good you make him feel and that drives you insane.

Your hands instinctively try to reach for his hair, but he’s pinned you down tight. You whine into his mouth, pressing your fingers between his knuckles. Your whine fizzles out into a series of smaller whines when his hips speed up, hitting that sweet spot with every thrust.

“Mm–Spence–mmph–”

You try to break the kiss to speak, but he simply drops a quick kiss on your jaw before reclaiming his place against your lips. He’s too lost in the taste of you to pay full attention. It takes you a moment to find the willingness to try again, but you do. You arch your hips too high for him to be able to follow from this position, forcing him to slip out from you and try to remove your hands from his grip. His focus is brought back to you and he lifts himself back on his knees, releasing you.

“What’s wrong? Have I hurt you?”

“M-mm” You shake your head and push yourself up on your hands.

You then shift into his lap, draping your arms around his shoulders. He gives you a curious look, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I want to be able to hold you.” You admit with a slight shyness in your tone.

A light smile spreads across his face, brows arching in surprise. Being a genius and all, he’s always known he was needed in some way or another. You’re the first person who’s ever made him feel wanted, truly wanted. With no motive other than simply existing with him. It sparks a new desire, one you see light up behind his eyes. He leans into your lips, his hold on your waist tightening and he moves one arm to cradle the back of your head.

You pull yourself flush against him, wrapping your arms around his neck as your tongues dance together once more. He lifts you up and places you back down against the mattress, mouth never leaving yours. You feel his palm raise one of your legs by the back of your knee and he’s entering you again. He rests that leg on his shoulder, while the other hangs by his waist and begins to build an unrelenting pace.

You wail into his mouth at the intensity of his thrusts, eyes rolling behind closed eyes. It’s almost brutal, the way he’s slamming into you. Your hands desperately cling onto his bicep and shoulder, nails digging into the skin. His grunts and groans increase each time he gets deeper, if that’s even physically possible and it only makes you desperate for more. Your kiss breaks with a slight sting against Spencer’s lip. You didn’t realise how hard you were biting it in an attempt to stay grounded.

There’s a shift in the atmosphere that you can’t explain. Even though Spencer was railing you so hard that even the bed had begun to cry out, there was an overwhelming sense of longing between you two. An ache to express how you belong to the other, hidden behind an uncouth sight. It’s compensation for those lack of words, a physical exchange expressing your biggest secret. He’s everywhere; your current position has you feeling Spencer in places you didn’t deem possible.

His mouth works over whatever exposed skin it can access along your jaw and throat, leaving goosebumps and bruising stains in its wake. His cock is driving into you so fast that you swear it’s going to imprint on your walls. There’s a fire in you, one that only he can put out. Every inch of him can be felt within every inch of you. Now you’re truly melded with each other.

“Fuck–oh my God!” You scream out, your nails digging harder into his flesh.

He’s consuming all of your senses, at this moment you don’t know anything other than him. Eyes open or closed, all you can see is his sculpted face. You’re drowning in his scent. Melting at his touch. The taste of his kiss still lingers on your tongue. Your ears are flooded with the slaps of his skin meeting yours and your mixed moans and grunts.

“Spen–fuck–gon–fu–cum!”

He hasn’t even spared your ability to speak. With a short kiss, he brings his forehead back to rest on yours in a firm manner.

“Me too, pretty girl.” He pants his sentence in broken pauses. “Me too.”

He secures the leg on his shoulder from the back of your thigh and then brings the other leg on his other shoulder. It gives him room to drive himself deeper and makes you lose all control, every joint in your body threatening to fall limp. Your face contorts and you bite your lip, trying to control the flurry of screams. It results in high-pitched whines forcing their way out.

“Spencer! I can’t–I can’t–I can’t”

You can’t hold on any longer.

“I know. I know.” There’s barely any voice accompanying his words. “We’ll do it together, okay? Where do you want me?”

“Inside–inside–ins-shitshitshit…”

“Inside? Inside.” He struggles to keep himself together while talking you through it. “Ready?”

You nod fervently and he steals one long, final kiss from you as he finally empties himself in your spent cunt. Your own orgasm crashes through in a long passing wave. You feel like you’re floating in the ocean with millions of stars as your only view for miles. He follows up with a few final thrusts, burying himself as far in you as possible.

When you finally come to, Spencer’s pulled out and is lying right next to you. Peppering kisses over your face in intervals and muttering praises as strokes away hair glued to your face.

“Did so well.”

“So good to me.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

For some reason, the water always feels nicer running down your body when you use Spencer’s shower. He’s a simple man; he doesn’t really have a lot of products to use besides the basic shampoo, conditioner, soap, and body wash. The exfoliators, masks and such were your initial additions that he keeps topping up after they run out.

You haven’t said much since coming out of your euphoric state, only showing your gratitude and appreciation through small touches. Brushing a hand against his cheek, leaving a peck on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. He doesn’t mind your silence. It doesn’t deter him from showering you with praise while he looks after you. You’re so disorientated that you’re letting yourself be guided from one instruction to the next.

“Lift your leg for me, sweet girl. Hand on my shoulder.”

He helps you act out his command, grabbing your wrist and draping it on his shoulder while helping you lift your leg. His touch is tender, but he’s careful to cover every area with body wash.

“Good girl.”

You don’t physically react, but his approval makes you swell with pride. Sex is the least intimate part of your time with Spencer. What you really enjoy is how safe he makes you feel. You know that even if you show him your worst and ugliest moments, he won’t reject you. You trust him with parts of you that you barely trust yourself with.

Anybody who’s touched your naked body before him doesn’t matter, because not one of them has gotten to touch it past the realm of physical pleasure. To you, the act of washing one’s body is so private, so sacred that it can’t be trusted with just anybody. How many are able to look past the lens of sexual release and view your skin and bones as something to cherish? Not even you can claim to view yourself in such a precious way.

But Spencer does.

Even as pats you dry and wraps you safely in a warm towel, he doesn’t demean your worth. They’d be thoughts he could easily keep hidden in the comfort of his own mind, but the thoughts simply don’t occur. You don’t realise how long the two of you are standing there, leaning into each other's arms against the counter. Nor do you realise how long it’s taken you to mentally return to him. The first thing you do notice is so trivial, it’s almost laughable.

“You’re out of apple juice, by the way.”

Even you’d laugh if you heard yourself bring up something so random.

“Do you want apple juice? We can go buy some more.” He replies in a quiet mumble.

In his presence, you can think such thoughts without the concern of being laughed at.

“No, I’m not gonna make you go to the grocery store just for apple juice.” You shake your head, expression oozing sarcasm.

“I need to buy a lot more than apple juice. I’m pretty sure I don’t even have enough to make eggs or coffee.” He snorts, running his fingers through your hair.

“Right. I forgot, Mister F.B.I.” You snort back, playfully poking his arm. “How was your time in Alaska?”

It’s really common for your brain to malfunction around Spencer. You don’t feel the need to think or stay on alert if he’s with you.

“Grim. Bleak.” He keeps it short on purpose.

He doesn’t want to taint what little time he has with you focused on the gory parts of his job. Or any parts of his job at all. He spends too much of his time there as it is, so he’d much prefer to keep that part of his life separate from you. Spencer didn’t understand what it truly meant to live until after you came into his life. He’d never admit it out loud, but being around you made him realise how much of his soul his job steals from him, piece by piece. You make it whole again.

“How bad was it?” Curiosity still gets the better of you at times.

“Awful. You weren’t there when I woke up every morning.” He steers the conversation again.

“Uh-huh.” You smirk, looking up at him. “You say that to all your girl-friends the morning after?”

He takes a small step back, creating space as he cups your face.

“Even if I had the social skills required, when do you honestly think I would have the time between being at work and being with you?”

“When you’re at work. Duh.” You tap his temple, playfully, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He scoffs, unamused. It’s something Spencer can’t honestly even imagine. You’re his solace, his best friend…his person.

“Get dressed.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “We’ll stop by that bakery you love and get some food in your system. Hopefully before your suggestions start becoming more and more insane.”

You don’t appreciate the awestruck look on his face when you’re certain you’ve got chocolate lining the corners of your mouth. You attempt to glare at him, but it doesn’t last and you find yourself fighting back a smile.

“Cut it out!” You groan, stringing out the end of your sentence.

The trolley comes to a halt as you stop to grab your phone, but he snatches it out of your hand before you can open the camera.

“Hey–”

“I’m revoking your phone privileges until your urge to keep checking your reflection fizzles out.” He states casually, slipping the phone into his pocket as he reaches for a loaf of bread on the top shelf.

“Revoking my– what are you my fucking mother?” You reach for his pocket, but he grabs your wrist before you can retrieve your phone.

You try to use your free arm, but he traps that one in his hands too.

“I don’t wanna walk around with chocolate around my mouth!” You whisper-shout, mindful of other shoppers passing by.

“For the fifth time, you don’t have chocolate anywhere on your face. It wasn’t there after you finished your shake and it won’t be there no matter how many times you check.”

You ignore him, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“You don’t believe me?” The look on his face is more entertained than shocked.

“Spencer, my fluffy-headed, genius bookworm, I would put my life in your hands if you asked me to but after that time you let me walk around with my lipstick smudged–”

“That happened one time!” He gripes, less concerned about his volume.

“I looked like I came straight off the clock from a circus!”

“It wasn’t that bad!”

“Six hours, you let me walk around like that!”

If he were to be completely honest, he was completely enraptured by your long tangent about why you despise dolphins. Most of it wasn’t based on facts and the parts that were, weren’t really a feasible argument since morals are a uniquely human concept. However, that was the day he uncovered how brightly you light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about. He spent the rest of that time, subtly digging, trying to figure out the topics that made you glow so he could keep bringing them up.

“There’s nothing there. Your face is– looks perfect.” He fumbles on his words.

“I can feel it!” You protest.

“That happens because–”

“Reid?” An unfamiliar voice calls out from behind you.

Spencer lets go of your wrists as you turn to face the owner of the voice. Two blondes, one behind the other. One of them is a lot more colourful and bold, with large statement jewelry and a pair of gorgeous platform heels that match her dress. The other is less vibrant, but with no less confidence and blue eyes that stand out like diamonds shining under lights.

“Hey! What are you guys doing here?”

You’re not a profiler, but you don’t miss the immediate shift in Spencer’s demeanour. He seems a lot more reserved and shy, as compared to the confidant and playful version of him that you know.

“We’re picking up some things for my birthday bash this weekend.” The brown-eyed blonde chirps. “The one that I will definitely see you at, no excuses allowed!”

“Right.” He gives an awkward, tight-lipped smile.

Spencer loves his coworkers, he really does. They’re basically his family. However, he wants nothing more for them to go away right now. Not for any reason other than wanting to keep you away from them, because he knows them. For all their amazing qualities, there’s one that annoys him the most and that’s how nosey they can be. Especially when it comes to him.

“Hi. I’m JJ.” The blue-eyed blonde takes the initiative to introduce herself, reaching out her hand for a friendly shake.

He knows it’s from a place of love. He’s the youngest member of the team, they all want to protect him, but he detests how they coddle him. He can already sense the incoming invitation from Garcia to her birthday. He knows that it won’t take long for you to befriend everyone on his team, because, well, they’re all amazing people. Integrating you with that part of his life is something he’s just not ready for. Not like this.

“I’m Penelope and oh my goodness, you are just gorgeous!”

He enjoys how when he’s with you, he can exist in a separate bubble. Where all he is, is not the resident genius of the BAU. More than that, he knows of the dangers that come with integrating the two separate lives. He’s seen the losses that occur, whether they be by generic circumstances or unplanned deaths. And there’s nothing he can do to stop his worlds colliding, a fact he has to grasp as soon as he zones back in to find three sets of eyes staring at him, expectantly.

“Right.” He clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “These are my– um– this is Penelope Garcia and Jennifer Jareau, or JJ. We work together.”

The introduction is hesitant and rushed at best, but you chalk it up to him being taken off guard. You want to gauge his mood, try and figure out where his head’s at, but that’s going to have to wait.

“Oh my God! I knew it!” Garcia gasps dramatically, taking your hand in hers. “You’re the reason he’s always in a rush to leave now! It is so nice to meet you!”

Garcia’s not wrong. You are the reason he’s always in a rush to get away. You’re his escape from the harsh realities he faces every day. You’re unsure of how to respond. In fact, you’re not even certain as to what’s going on. Nobody else seems to match Penelope's enthusiasm. Spencer looks mortified, while JJ looks like she wants to drag Penelope away. Still, everybody’s too frozen to stop her.

“Did you know that you have him checking his phone more than a lovestruck teenage girl? Him! One of the biggest technophobes I’ve ever met!”

This is also a fact. Spencer’s not an idiot. He’s not oblivious to the open-mouthed stares he gets every time he’s caught smiling like a dopey idiot after looking at the screen. He’s just never cared. It’s almost impossible to ignore any notification from you. He doesn’t feel great about that coming to bite him in the ass right about now.

Given different circumstances that were more in his control, Spencer would be elated to introduce the most important people in his life to each other. This whole interaction is actually shorter than he feels it is, but for Spencer, time moves too slowly. He can sense how the safety of your company as he knows it, the most valuable aspect of his life, is under threat of being ripped away from him with every second that passes. Without you, Spencer would once again find himself lost.

“Spencer, you have to bring her to my bash this weekend! Everybody would love to meet your girlfriend!” Garcia wiggles her eyebrows, eyes smirking beneath her glasses.

Because all he is, is yours.

“Oh! Uhm–” You begin.

“No Garcia, she’s–this is…my friend..” He adds at the same time, unable to hide his stutter.

At least, that’s all he wants to be.

“Right…we’re just…friends.” You confirm with a half-hearted smile at the reminder of your reality.

It was better this way. The two of you agreed on this at the start of your arrangement.

Spoilers: Mostly just fluff, a sprinkle of angst, smut, lots of mutual pining, friends with benefits.

AN - I felt a surge of evil take over my bones when I wrote this and any events that unfolded were out of my control. This is not my finest work, but once I thought of it I had to share it. Also I know I said not to bother me about fics bc uni and I still mean that, I just don’t know what happened. It’s like I got a bit of inspo and couldn’t help myself. Huge thanks to @mrs-dr-reid for beta reading! FWB Writing Challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins Prompt - "I wanna be yours" by Arctic Monkeys

No bc writing that opening scene on the bed might be my favourite and u should tell me if u agree bc I wanna write more like that, but if u hate it then I won't.

Thanks for reading.

2K notes · View notes

ennobletechnologies · 2 years ago

Text

As the world of digital marketing continues to evolve, we are seeing a shift from traditional, one-way marketing methods to more interactive, two-way methods. This shift is being driven by the rise of social media, the proliferation of mobile devices, and the ever-increasing demand for more personalized content.

Interactive content is any type of content that requires the reader, viewer, or user to take some action in order to engage with it. This can include anything from taking a quiz or survey, to playing a game or watching a video.

So why is interactive content the future of digital marketing? Keep reading to find out!

What is interactive content?

Interactive content is any type of content that is designed to engage the user and encourages them to take some kind of action. This can include:

Surveys

Quizzes

Games

Videos

App-based content

Online polls

Interactive infographics

Calculators

Augmented Reality (AR)/ Virtual Reality (VR)

Interactive content enables digital marketers to engage with their audience on a personal level and provides an opportunity to gather valuable data. This helps digital marketers make better informed decisions when creating content and targeting campaigns accordingly. Furthermore, interactive content offers digital marketers an opportunity to create unique, engaging experiences for their audience.

Why is interactive content important for digital marketing?

Interactive content can be an important tool for digital marketing as it offers numerous benefits compared to content that is not interactive. Here are just a few of the benefits of using interactive content in digital marketing:

Increased Engagement – Interactive content typically has a higher engagement rate than traditional content. Users are more likely to engage with content when they are given the opportunity to interact with it in some way.

Improved Reach and Visibility – Because interactive content has higher engagement rates, it can also lead to improved reach and visibility for digital marketing campaigns. Content that gets shared frequently has a better chance of getting noticed and seen by more people.

Higher Conversion Rates – With the high engagement rates that interactive content can provide, digital marketers can enjoy higher conversion rates. When more people are engaged in content, it can result in more people taking a desired action such as making a purchase or subscribing to services.

Improved User Experience – Interactive content can create a better user experience, which can result in higher customer satisfaction. By offering engaging user experiences, digital marketers can set themselves apart from the competition and ensure that their content is remembered.

Read More: https://ennobletechnologies.com/digital-marketing/5-reasons-why-interactive-content-is-the-future-of-digital-marketing/

#Benefits of interactive content in digital marketing #Content Marketing #Digital Marketing #Digital Marketing Services in Hyderabad #digital marketing strategy #Enhancing user experience with interactive content #Ennoble Technologies #Future of Digital Marketing #Future of interactive content in digital marketing #Impact of interactive content on digital marketing #Increasing engagement with interactive content #Interactive content for better audience interaction #Interactive content strategies for digital marketing #Interactive content tools and platforms for digital marketing #Interactive content trends in digital marketing #Leveraging interactive content in digital marketing campaigns

1 note · View note

lovverletters · 2 months ago

Text

my god . . you sound like a sin

IN WHICH, an avid asmr listener fell head over heels for you, his favourite asmrtist.

tw/ yan is a gooner, mentions of self deletion but bro is not serious dw, yan goon over ur voice, delusional af, typical yan behaviour

yandere fan x gn asmrtist reader

. . . 🍒

he's lonely. like REALLY lonely.

he barely goes outside unless he was forced to by either the people around him or necessarily. for the most part, he doesn't interact much with othersㅡ not even his own family.

it's bad but he couldn't care less. the online world was much kinder to him than the outside will ever be. it's not the he's ugly or anything. he's just painfully average.

average grades, average looks, average social life, average job.

his existence is fucking average.

which is why he doesn't have much luck in the dating pool. nobody wants an average joe like him. except for, you.

at least the 'you' in this asmr fantasy he's invested in. he had been scrolling through the youtube page watching videos to pass time while he waits for his game to update.

when he came across your channel. you're an asmr youtuber, specifically those boyfriend/girlfriend audio kind of asmrtist. he hesitates at first, he finds these kind of thing cringe due to it's cheesy plotline.

but something within him, perhaps the curious part of him made him click on your most popular video. and oh boy, was he hooked for life.

you voice were like honey in his ears, dripping and overwhelmingly sweet. he swore he almost popped a boner from hearing you address him 'darling' or 'dear'. your production? absolutely amazing that he'd forgot you were just doing this for a side hussle. if he hadn't known better he'd think you were a professional.

immediately after he finished your first video and himself, he was clicking on the next. that day, he spent hours going through your catalogue. by the end of it he was still itching for more.

that's when he subscribe for your patreon. for more of your exclusive and extra contents. but your patreon has more than just extra audios. you'd share bits of your life that only made him all the more obsessed.

at this point, he doesn't view your asmr audios as a mere fantasy. but it's that you and him were a genuine couple. you're no longer just an asmrtist to him, you're his partner.

all of these audios you've made are just a way of communicating with him while also letting others whom in his opinion were undeserving of, to delude themselves in a fantasy where they're dating you.

as if, you're dating him.

and out of kindness of his heart, he's letting those pathetic bunch have a piece of you. if it were up to him, he'd wanted to hog you all to himself. though, he sometimes wished he could hear a personal audio just for his ears to listen to.

and that opportunity arise when you were hosting a charity event. anyone could commission a personal audio from you. you'd hope that it would be nothing weird and for the most part, plenty of your audience requests were tame.

some even sent a script for a storyline they wanted you to act on for them. those were the most fun to do in all honesty.

ding!

you noticed someone had commision an audio from youㅡ oh well let's hope it's a normal one. you've yet to find the odd once yet and something in you had an inkling this might be the first out of many.

what the fuck. the commissions were all from the same person but there was at least 5 of them. they're very generous. . . you think.

you checked the scripts they've sent and the four seems somewhat normal enough though a bit . . sexual. the commissioner basically asked for a whimper audios from you.

but the last one took the cake for the wildest requests you've ever gotten.

can you please tell me to kms? you sound so hot.

#yandere oc #yandere x reader #tw: yandere #yandere #yandere x darling #yandere smut #yandere male #yandere imagines

508 notes · View notes

vampzity · 3 months ago

Text

stray kids twitter links!

★ BONUS DAY: SKZ MAKNAE LINE TWT LINKS ★

[ DISCLAIMER ]: the following links contain PORN which is only suitable for mature audiences!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+!! all links contain hetero content! some dont have any sound :’)

[warnings]: porn… duh!, fem fucking m., unprotected sex, titty play, milking??, femdom, clit play

⭐️: author’s favorite

[ HAN JISUNG ]

⭐️ switch of roles: han loves to submit to you. by any means necessary. he loves when you fuck him, it practically makes him drool. he’ll ride your strap slowly as his cock rubs against the material, making him lose his mind. it hits his spot just perfectly, making him want more with every passing second. he hates when you laugh at the kind of person he becomes when you fuck him, but god it’s such a pretty sight to see.

ride it, tease it: one thing you loved to do was tease han. he absolutely hated it, but you didn’t care. you loved grinding your wet folds against his leaking cock as his tip poked out of your panties. you loved watching him helplessly lay there hoping you’d stick his cock inside of you but to no avail. your pace would get quicker, your sensitive bud running along his length as he whimpered from the overstimulation.

[ LEE FELIX ]

play with me: if there was no time, felix would make the time to play with you. correction, to play with your pussy. he loved sitting you in his lap, pulling your panties to the side and rubbing your clit gently. your soft folds brought him immense joy as he listened to your soft whimpers fill the room. his free hand would cup your tits, playing with them as his pads worked your clit hungrily, desperate to get your arousal all over his fingers just so he could amen you taste it afterwards. “you taste better than I play with you, yeah?”

⭐️ ride like you want it: you always had fun getting on top of felix. you’d ride him for hours on end, in different ways until you practically milked him dry. he’d beg for you to ride him faster, harder as his hands danced around your body. and boy did you love it you always admired how his groans would turn into soft breathless whimpers as your cunt squeezed around his cock.

[ KIM SEUNGMIN ]

⭐️ touch me like you do: if there’s anything we know, it’s that seungmin loves teasing people. meaning he loved to tease you. he would lay your stomach on a bed, rip your panties off and run his fingers against your pussy. he’d make you sit there and take it as his hand fondled rapidly with your clit. “you look so stupid begging for me like this.” it was so condescending, but you loved it. you whimpered and cried out as he annoyingly toyed with you, smirking as he watched your body become squeamish beneath him.

[ YANG JEONGIN ]

(might have to make a drabble out of this one??)

⭐️ soft and squishy: jeongin loved your tits. any chance he got he would play with them, squish them in his hands like they were some kind of stress toy. hell, he even used it like that too. he would sit you in front of him after a long day, lift up your shirt and fondle with your tits softly, flicking your sensitive nipples until they turned hard. “you’re my precious toy, isn’t that right baby?” you couldn’t resist his soft hands, and you craved them.

drain me: as i said, jeongin loved your tits— to the point that he’d do anything to get a feel for them. even if that meant sitting there and letting you jack him off until he was milked dry. you agreed if he touched you good, you’d touch him until he couldn’t feel his cock anymore. it killed him hie sensitive his tip was, but he did whatever was necessary to feel your body. to hear your demanding words as he cummed all over your hands.

back to valentine’s masterlist

a/n: YIPPEEE i actually like a few from this one idea wise. i may have to make them into a drabble.

taglist: @scarfac3 @h4untedgrl @rvereri @jjongibears @hwasddeongbyeoli @joonezra @potentialgay @dollywoo @losrpark @motherseonghwa23 @inniesfanblog @stephanieeeyang @galaxy4489 @nickgurl4life @fangirljas929 @desirehorizon @channiesluvrclub @katsukis1wife @unbel1ve4ble @sojuxxi @bbykaixx @felixleftchickennugget @jwnghyuns @bluesungology @gncbnahc

★ comment to be added to the taglist or fill out the form here!

#—♡vampzity #—♡︎vamp’s valentines #—♡︎vamp’s hard hours #stray kids #skz #stray kids smut #stray kids twitter links #skz han jisung #skz felix #skz jeongin #skz seungmin #han jisung x reader #lee felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #skz smut

712 notes · View notes

soluversworld · 3 months ago

Text

Bound by Tears, Held by Love- Solivan Brugmansia x Yan! G.N Reader (Smut!)

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

Words: 16000

Genre: Yandere- Reader is same from the Sol series I wrote!!

(Reader is G.N)-(This one-shot is nsfw!)

Summary : After a long day, For some reason, Sol didn’t come to class today. You missed him terribly! You meet him again? After a nice bath with him ? Will he you make feel better? <3

TW/CW: Mentions of marking, Manipulation, Slight pet-play, Dirty talks, Yandere Y/n and Solivan Brugmansia , Toxic relationship, Unhealthy relationship, Edging turned overstimulation, Suggestive, Manipulation, obsessive behavior, unhealthy relationships/feelings, Clingy, Manipulation, Jealous, Both Reader and Sol are submissive-dominant at one point each, oral sex, rough handling, and marking/branding with bites. It may also touch on themes of possessiveness, dominance.

In short,

Content Warning: This one-shot will contain explicit sexual themes, graphic descriptions of intimate acts, and strong language. It may not be suitable for all audiences.

Please proceed with caution if these triggers could cause distress. If you experience any discomfort

The day had started like any other, but it quickly spiraled into a mess you hadn’t expected. Sol wasn’t at university today. You’d noticed right away—the lack of his subtle smiles, the absence of his quiet presence trailing just a little too close for comfort. It wasn’t until you received a text from him, right as you arrived, that the weight of his absence truly hit.

“Busy today. Don’t wait for me. Be good, pumpkin.”

The message had felt colder than usual, even if he added his usual nickname for you. There wasn’t time to dwell on it, though, because Deryl had immediately intercepted you, going on about how you needed to talk to Crowe. Something about sorting things out, making things right. But you couldn’t—didn’t. Crowe was always so understanding, so kind, and deep down, you felt like you didn’t deserve to lean on him anymore.

Instead, you spent time with Hyugo, grateful for the distraction. His bubbly energy kept things light, even as you carried the weight of your emotions silently. He’d thanked you again for helping him keep his family off his back, allowing him to do what he loved without their interference. Hyugo was a good soul, and you were glad you could be there for him. But as the hours passed, he too had to leave, off to his mysterious errands.

This part of lore is locked <3

Alone now, you wandered aimlessly, the campus feeling too big and too empty without Sol. You thought about your friendship with Crowe, about how things had unfolded. You hadn’t meant to hurt Sol, but it was clear now that your closeness with Crowe had struck a nerve. Sol had always been possessive in his quiet, brooding way, and you’d been too caught up in your own thoughts to notice. He will kill him.

If he kills Crowe.

You would kill him.

You felt like a terrible person. Guilty. Torn. You’d never meant to make him jealous or sad, but you were delusional about the whole situation. You’d let your feelings and uncertainties cloud your judgment. And now, you were left with this gnawing ache, the realization that you’d hurt the one person who always tried so hard to be there for you.

The sky opened up, rain pouring down in heavy sheets. At first, you welcomed it—maybe it would cleanse the suffocating guilt weighing on your chest. But then the tears started, mingling with the rain as they slid down your cheeks. The world around you blurred, and you were thankful no one could see you like this.

The rain might have hidden your tears, but it couldn’t hide the pain. Not from yourself.

The rain fell like a curtain of sorrow, soaking through to the bone, but you barely felt it. Each step homeward was heavy, burdened by a tempest within. The air was thick with the smell of rain on pavement, a melancholy symphony of muted taps and sighs. Your clothes clung to your skin, hair plastered against your face, as if the storm itself sought to keep you captive to your despair.

From the shadows, unseen by your drenched and wandering gaze, Crowe lingered. His dark eyes followed your figure, his usual calm replaced by something raw and unspoken. Beside him, Deryl nudged his arm, his voice low and insistent, “Go. Give it to them. Say something.”

Brittney and Jess, ever the voices of gentle encouragement, echoed Deryl’s sentiment. Crowe exhaled, the weight of their words pushing him toward resolve. He took the umbrella in hand, its promise of shelter feeling heavier than its frame. Slowly, he stepped forward, his polished shoes splashing through shallow puddles.

Yet he stopped.

It wasn’t hesitation that froze him, but the sight that awaited him just ahead. You had paused, your head bowed, lashes fluttering closed against the rain’s assault. A moment of peace amidst the chaos. And then, as if conjured by some unspoken wish, there he stood—Sol.

His silhouette emerged from the haze of rain, an umbrella poised like an offering, a silent guardian come to reclaim his place by your side. Your eyes opened, catching sight of him, and Crowe saw it—the transformation. The way your sorrow melted into joy, the way your lips curved into something radiant, unburdened.

A laugh escaped you, light and unrestrained, and before Crowe could comprehend it, you had flung yourself into Sol’s arms. The man caught you as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his embrace firm yet tender, his hand cradling the back of your head as if you were something precious.

Crowe’s breath caught. For a moment, his grip on the umbrella tightened, knuckles pale against its dark handle. But then, as your laughter rang out again, he forced himself to smile. A smile forged from steel, brittle at its edges, but sincere in its core. You were happy. That was enough. It had to be enough.

You were happy with Mr Brugmansia.

Sol’s gaze lifted then, catching sight of Crowe standing just beyond your bubble of bliss. Sol’s eyes were cold, darkened by the storm, and Crowe felt the weight of his disdain like a physical blow. But Crowe, ever the gentleman, merely inclined his head, a gesture of quiet acknowledgment.

Sol, however, looked away, his jaw tight. To him, Crowe was a specter, a name he hated to utter—Ichabod, the shadow that lingered too close to you for comfort. Sol held you tighter, burying his face in your damp hair as if to remind himself, and you, who truly held your heart.

And so, Crowe turned, his shoes splashing once more through the puddles as he retreated into the rain. The umbrella remained unopened in his hand, its purpose unfulfilled. He carried it as a memento of a chance unclaimed, a reminder of the moment he realized the truth.

You were someone else’s.

But as Crowe disappeared into the storm, the sound of your laughter lingered, like the faintest chime of a distant bell. And for that, he smiled once more, his heart both heavy and light.

He was happy, you were..happy.

The rain cascaded around you, creating a private world where the rest of the universe ceased to exist. You squealed in delight, clutching Sol tighter, your wet clothes making the embrace all the more intimate. Sol’s faint smile deepened, though his cheeks flushed a soft pink that reached to the tips of his ears.

“Did you miss me that much?” he murmured, his voice low, almost teasing.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingers lightly brushing his damp hair from his face. “Of course I missed you! What kind of question is that?” you teased, your tone playful yet edged with sincerity.

Sol’s blush deepened, and he turned his face away, his free hand gripping the umbrella handle tightly. “I… I didn’t mean to stay away. I… If you’re mad, I—” He hesitated, his voice cracking slightly as his gaze found yours again. There was something almost desperate in the way his soft orange eyes searched yours, as though afraid he’d ruined something precious.

“Pumpkin, how… How would I make it up to you?” he asked, the pet name spilling from his lips with a rawness that made your heart flutter.

You couldn’t help it. His flustered expression, his genuine guilt—it was all so endearing. Before he could ramble further, you wrapped your arms around him again, burying your face in his chest. His heart thundered beneath your ear, and you smiled against him.

“You don’t have to make anything up, silly,” you whispered, your voice muffled but laced with affection. Tilting your head up, you pressed a soft kiss to his jawline, lingering just enough to feel him stiffen in surprise. “I’m just so happy to see you, Sol. That’s all that matters.”

The kiss made him freeze for a moment, his wide eyes darting to meet yours. Then, as if the realization of your closeness hit him all at once, he turned away again, his ears burning. “Y-You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, though his lips curved into a shaky smile.

But you weren’t done yet. Your mischievous streak took over, and you decided to lean into his adoration just a little more. With a playful pout, you clasped your hands behind your back and tilted your head, letting the rain streak down your face.

“You know,” you said, your voice teasing, “I could still be mad. Maybe you need to try a little harder to make me forgive you…”

Sol’s eyes snapped back to you, and for a split second, something flickered in his gaze—possessive, intense, and entirely Sol. His blush didn’t fade, but his grip on the umbrella tightened as he leaned slightly closer, his wet hair casting shadows over his face.

“What would it take, pumpkin?” he asked, his voice lower, almost velvety, as if he were daring you to push him further.

Your heart skipped a beat, but instead of backing down, you stepped closer, closing the already narrow gap between you. With a playful laugh, you brushed your fingers against his chest, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“Hm… Maybe I’ll tell you if you promise not to disappear on me again,” you said coyly.

Sol’s expression softened, his gaze melting into something utterly smitten. “I promise,” he murmured, the sincerity in his voice making your chest tighten.

For a moment, the rain and the world around you disappeared again, leaving only the two of you standing there, drenched but completely lost in each other. Sol reached out, tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear, his touch featherlight. His lips parted as though to speak, but instead, he just smiled—soft, adoring, and completely yours.

The rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle by the time you and Sol began your walk home together. You clung to him, your arms looped around one of his, leaning so close your head brushed the curve of his neck. Sol stiffened for a moment, his breath hitching audibly, but he didn’t move away. If anything, he seemed to relax into your touch, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the blush creeping up his cheeks.

You could feel his pulse quicken under your cheek, and it made your heart flutter. He liked this—you knew he did. The way his fingers tightened ever so slightly on the umbrella handle gave him away. Sol might have been soft-spoken and shy, but there was no hiding how much he adored you.

“You know…” you began, your voice playful and light as you tilted your head to glance up at him. “You’re really cute when you blush like that.”

Sol’s steps faltered, and he let out a soft, embarrassed laugh. “I-I’m not…” he murmured, his voice trailing off as he tried to glance at you but failed to meet your gaze. His blush deepened, and he looked away, biting his lip.

You leaned in closer, your cheek brushing against his damp collarbone as you smiled mischievously. “Oh, but you are,” you teased, your voice dropping to a whisper. “And I think you like when I say it.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he let out a shaky breath, his free hand twitching at his side as though he wanted to hold you closer but didn’t quite dare to.

The idea of pushing him further made your heart race, not out of cruelty but because you loved seeing this side of him—the side that was so completely wrapped around you, so utterly devoted and vulnerable. And if you were honest, you liked knowing just how deeply he wanted you, how much he was willing to unravel for you.

“Hey, Sol?” you said suddenly, your voice light and cheerful as though the tension from moments ago had evaporated.

“Hm?” he hummed, glancing at you with those soft, doe-like eyes, still tinted with hesitation.

“Let’s hang out at your place,” you said brightly, tugging on his arm like a child asking for a treat. “We’ve never done that before, right? And it’s only fair since you already know my house so well…”

Your grin widened at the way his eyes widened, his face going from pink to a deep crimson in an instant. He opened his mouth to say something—probably an attempt to deny or explain his little habit of keeping tabs on you—but all that came out was a soft, incoherent sound as he averted his gaze again.

You giggled, delighted by his reaction, and grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers with his. “It’s fine, Sol,” you said, your voice teasing but reassuring. “I don’t mind. Actually, I think it’s kind of sweet.”

“Sweet?” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. His grip on your hand tightened, as though afraid you’d slip away if he didn’t hold on.

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug, swinging his hand slightly as you walked. “You care about me so much. I like that about you. You’re always thinking about me, even when I don’t know it.”

His steps slowed, and he glanced at you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. For a moment, you thought he might say something, but instead, he just smiled—a small, soft smile that held a hint of something deeper, something darker.

You felt your heart race, and the realization hit you like a jolt of electricity: you wanted this. You wanted his obsession, his unrelenting need to be near you, to protect you, to make you his. It was intoxicating, the way he looked at you like you were his entire world.

As you reached the edge of the neighborhood, you tugged on his hand again, pulling him along as you skipped ahead. “Come on, Sol! Don’t look so serious,” you said with a laugh, turning to grin at him. “I’m happy to be with you. Isn’t that enough?”

He blinked, his expression softening as his blush returned. “Y-Yeah,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s more than enough.”

But you could see it in his eyes—the unspoken promise, the depth of his feelings.

Sol wasn’t just happy to be with you; he was complete with you.

You love that about him don’t you?

Maybe god loves you to keep out of your delusional thoughts.

Suddenly,

The sound of the car speeding by echoed through the street, its tires splashing through a puddle with reckless abandon. Before you could even react, mud splashed across your clothes, the brown sludge staining your uniform. A scream escaped you, frustration and annoyance bubbling up as you wiped at your drenched clothing.

“FUCK YOU, CAR DRIVER!” you shouted, your voice carrying through the rain, though your words didn’t seem to make any difference to the speeding vehicle.

You huffed, feeling a little defeated, and looked down at your ruined clothes. “Ugh, this was my main one,” you muttered to yourself, trying to rub at the stains, but it was no use. Your frustration didn’t last long, though, because Sol was already by your side, his worried gaze soft and focused on you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice surprisingly concerned, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes that made you pause.

You looked up at him, still damp from the rain and the mud, and his lips were curving into a grin that made you roll your eyes. “What now?” you snapped, shaking your arms in frustration, but it only made him laugh even more.

His laugh was soft and melodic, the kind of sound that made your heart flutter despite the annoyance you were feeling. “You’re so cute when you’re mad,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye as he tried to suppress his laughter.

Your face heated up at his words, and before you could even stop yourself, you let out a loud, flustered kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa that was far too loud for the public setting. You nearly died from embarrassment, the sound escaping your lips before you could catch it.

But before you could even think about what was happening, you found yourself leaping at Sol, your hands cupping his face as you kissed him right in the middle of the street, the rain still coming down around you.

His surprised gasp was the only thing you heard before you melted into him, your lips moving against his with a newfound urgency. The entire world around you disappeared, and all you could think about was him—his warmth, his sweetness, the way he smelled like rain and something uniquely him.

Sol, though still caught off guard, didn’t pull away. Instead, he seemed to fall into the kiss with you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you closer. He was blushing furiously, his hands trembling slightly as he held you against him.

“You’re so cute…” he muttered between kisses, his voice strained with emotion as he kept his hands tightly on you.

You pulled away for a brief second to catch your breath, your chest heaving as you looked at him. His face was still flushed, but the joy in his eyes made your heart race.

“I can’t help it,” you whispered, a little breathless from the kiss. “You’re just too cute, Sol.”

Sol’s smile was so soft, so genuine, and in that moment….

You both walked into his apartment, the warmth from the inside contrasted sharply with the cold, damp air clinging to your clothes. You could feel the wet fabric clinging to your skin, making you wince slightly, but your attention was focused entirely on Sol. You couldn’t help but apologize for the mess you’d made. “I’m sorry about ruining your apartment,” you murmured softly, trying to keep your voice light.

Sol looked at you, his expression softening, and with a little tilt of his head, he replied, “It’s fine, pumpkin,” his voice gentle but filled with warmth. “I’ll make some soup for you. Go take a bath and relax.” He paused, clearly concerned for your well-being.

But you shook your head quickly, stubborn as ever. “No, I’m fine. I don’t need it.” You huffed, folding your arms in a little pout, looking at him with a half-hearted glare.

Sol raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your refusal. “Are you sure? You’re wet, too.” He glanced down at you and then his own drenched clothes, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours. “It’s not a good idea to stay like this.”

You hesitated for a moment, then an idea popped into your head. Smirking mischievously, you stepped closer to him. “I’m not the only one who’s wet.” You tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it just enough to expose the tight muscles beneath.

Sol was caught off guard, stumbling forward slightly as the shirt pulled and he nearly fell into you. His face was suddenly inches from your chest, and his breath hitched, caught in a mix of surprise and something much more heated. You held him close, your arms wrapping around him, the warmth of your body soothing the chill that still lingered on his skin.

He was so cute in that moment, face flushed and body stiff, but still allowing you to hold him. He almost whined, the softness of his voice barely a whisper as he murmured, “Y-You’re… so close…” His chest rose and fell with every shaky breath he took, clearly affected by how close you were.

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, feeling a sense of triumph as he melted into your touch. He was usually so calm, so composed, but now, he was so vulnerable. It was almost as if you held the power to break down his walls completely. The way he whimpered, the way his face flushed with embarrassment—he was so cute.

“You’re so adorable, Sol,” you whispered into his ear, squeezing him tighter. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes fluttered shut, a small, contented sigh escaping his lips. “I… I know,” he murmured faintly, his voice soft but full of warmth. “You’re mine…”

You smiled softly, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

You could feel the tension between you and Sol, the air thick with an intensity that was both intoxicating and thrilling. His shyness, his hesitation—everything about him right now was exactly how you wanted him to be. The way he leaned into your touch, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the way his eyes sparkled with confusion and admiration—it was all so perfect. Your heart raced, your thoughts dizzying with the thought of him.

You smiled softly, your gaze locking onto his as you saw the way his pupils dilated, his breath quickening ever so slightly. There was a flicker in his eyes, something almost desperate, and that only made you want to drive him wild with even more affection. You needed to make him fall harder.

Leaning forward, you brushed your lips against his cheek softly, just a light kiss, then moved to his other cheek, and his jaw, kissing him in soft, slow motions, letting the intensity of each kiss linger. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his pulse quickening in a way that only spurred your actions further.

His breath hitched, a tiny whimper escaping his lips as you pulled away for just a moment. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated with a mixture of longing and hesitation, and you couldn’t help but smile, the thrill of seeing him like this making your heart race.

“I think you like this, don’t you?” you whispered, teasing him as you gently cupped his face, feeling the warmth of his skin against your fingertips. You kissed him again, this time on his lips, more fervently than before. Your lips moved against his with a feverish hunger, wanting to consume every ounce of him.

He couldn’t stop himself from groaning softly into the kiss, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you even closer, his body trembling. His fingers flexed with barely contained desire, but it wasn’t just desire—it was obsession. You could see it in the way his grip tightened, in the way he held onto you like you were the only thing that mattered in this world.

Sol was obsessed—you knew it, and now he was helpless to hide it.

With every kiss you planted on his face, you felt him unravel just a little more. He was no longer the stoic, controlled man you had known. He was yours, body and soul. And you, oh, you were going to make sure he stayed that way.

His face flushed even more, his expression dazed, his eyes half-lidded with a love so deep, it almost seemed like it was suffocating him. His breathing was shallow, and his lips trembled as he tried to form words, but they only came out as a soft, desperate mumble, “Y-You’re… everything. Don’t leave me… please.”

Your lips curled into a slow smile, satisfied with how easily he was slipping into your grasp. You kissed him once more, this time lingering on his lips a little longer, before pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. Those eyes—those sweet, heart-shaped eyes—were all for you. Completely for you.

“I’m not going anywhere, Sol,” you murmured against his lips. “You’re mine. And I’ll never let you go. I’ll make sure of that.”

His grip on you tightened, his heart pounding as he pulled you into a desperate kiss once more.

You smiled softly, knowing you had him right where you wanted him—lost in his obsession, lost in you. And there was no going back now.

The bathroom was warm, steam curling in the air and soft droplets of water trickling down from the walls. You sat on the edge of the tub, a towel loosely draped around your body, watching Sol as he leaned back into the shallow water. His hair clung to his forehead, his cheeks faintly pink from the heat, and his shoulders glistened with droplets. For once, the usually put-together Sol looked vulnerable, stripped bare in more ways than one.

Your eyes wandered to his neck—the spot where his choker usually rested. Without it, the faint bruises and marks stood out on his skin Body, and your heart gave a quiet lurch. They were like shadows of something darker, and while you had questions—so many questions—you held them back. Sol was complex, his past layered with secrets, and you knew better than to push. What mattered wasn’t what the bruises meant, but that they were his. They were a part of him, and you adored every piece of Sol, scars and all.

Sol shifted under your gaze, his movements subtle but telling. He had noticed you looking. His fingers flexed against the tub’s edge, his posture tightening slightly as though he were bracing himself. “What?” he murmured, his voice quiet but tinged with nervousness. “You’ve been staring.”

You tilted your head and smiled, your expression soft and reassuring. “Just admiring you,” you said simply, your tone light but warm enough to wash away any tension that might’ve been building.

He huffed, averting his eyes, his face turning red. “Admiring?” He sounded skeptical, almost incredulous. “I look like a mess.”

You stood, your towel swishing softly as you approached the tub. “You always say that,” you teased gently, kneeling beside him. “And yet, somehow, you keep being wrong.”

He didn’t reply, though you caught the way his lips twitched like he was holding back a smile. His eyes darted to yours briefly, searching, before quickly looking away again. That was just like him—always reluctant to let you see how much your words affected him.

Your gaze fell to his body again. The bruises were darker up close, scattered unevenly along his skin. Some were fading, others still there, and your heart ached at the thought of what might’ve caused them. But as much as you hated the idea of him being hurt, you refused to let it overshadow the truth: bruises or not, Sol was beautiful. Every mark on his skin, every imperfection, every flaw—they were all his.

Reaching out slowly, you let your fingertips brush against his neck, featherlight. Sol tensed immediately, his eyes snapping to yours in alarm. “What are you—”

You silenced him with a kiss, your lips pressing softly against the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t about stopping his words; it was about showing him that there was nothing to fear. Your lips moved to his cheek, then his jaw, each kiss tender and unhurried. And then, finally, you kissed his neck, right over..

Don’t talk about it? It would hurt him.

Sol jolted, a sharp gasp escaping him as his hand flew up to your shoulder, not to push you away but to steady himself. His eyes were wide, his lips parted in shock, and you could feel the way his body trembled slightly under your touch. “W-What are you doing?” he whispered, his voice barely audible, shaky with something that wasn’t quite fear but wasn’t quite anything else either.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you kissed another bruise, and then another, your lips trailing softly along his neck. Each time, his reaction was the same—a quiet hitch of breath, a faint shiver, a look in his eyes that was equal parts bewildered and entranced. He didn’t stop you, though. If anything, his grip on your shoulder tightened, as if anchoring himself to you.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes met his, and you smiled. It wasn’t a teasing smile, nor was it one of pity. It was simply you, looking at him with all the warmth and love you could muster. “You’re beautiful, Sol,” you said softly, your voice steady and sincere. “Every part of you.”

His face crumpled slightly, his expression caught between disbelief and something far more vulnerable. “You… don’t care?” he asked, his voice so small it was almost a whisper.

You frowned, tilting your head. “Care about what?”

“The bruises, The-” he said, his hand moving to cover his neck instinctively. “They’re ugly, aren’t they? They make me look…”

“Human,” you finished for him, cutting off whatever self-deprecating thought was about to leave his lips. You reached out, gently prying his hand away from his neck and holding it in yours. “They make you look human. And I love that. I love you. Bruises, scars, everything. It’s you Sol.“

He stared at you, his eyes wide and glassy, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Then, slowly, his lips curved into the faintest smile—a real one, not the awkward, forced grins he sometimes used to deflect. This smile was soft, genuine, and so filled with emotion that it made your chest ache.

“You’re… unbelievable,” he murmured, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place. He shook his head, his wet hair clinging to his forehead, and let out a soft laugh. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” you asked, your tone playful as you leaned in closer.

“Make me fall for you all over again,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, all you could do was look at him, your chest swelling with so much love it felt like it might burst. Then, without a word, you leaned in and kissed him again, your lips moving against his with a tenderness that spoke louder than any words ever could.

Sol melted into the kiss, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. When you finally pulled away, his eyes were hazy, his expression dazed but utterly content.

You leaned down, your breath ghosting over his skin, and kissed one softly. Sol tensed beneath you, his muscles twitching under your touch, and you smiled to yourself. He was so easy to unravel, and you loved it.

Your lips moved lower, trailing over the bruises with deliberate care, each kiss a whisper of devotion. But your movements weren’t entirely selfless—there was a dark satisfaction in watching him squirm, in hearing the soft gasps and shaky breaths he couldn’t suppress. You wanted him to need you, to crave you, to be as lost in you as you were in him.

“Y-You’re—ah—doing this on purpose,” Sol stammered, his voice trembling as his hand gripped the edge of the towel wrapped around his waist. His face was flushed, his breath uneven, and you could see the way he was struggling to hold himself together.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you kissed another bruise, just above his hip, and felt the way his body shivered in response. Your mind was swimming with thoughts—dark, possessive thoughts about how much you wanted him to belong to you entirely. Not just his body, but his mind, his heart, his soul. You wanted to consume him, to make him forget anything else existed but you.

But then, suddenly, he moved. Before you could react, Sol sat up and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. The abruptness of it snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts, and for a moment, all you could do was sit there, stunned, as he buried his face against your shoulder.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice muffled but heavy with emotion. “Thank you for… accepting me.”

His words hit you like a wave, washing over the darker corners of your mind and leaving something softer in their wake. You blinked, your hands instinctively moving to rest against his back as his grip on you tightened. He was trembling slightly, and you realized that this wasn’t just a hug—it was a lifeline.

“I… I’ve always hated these,” Sol admitted, his voice quiet but raw. “The bruises, the scars… Every bruise was worth it. I thought… I thought when you see them would think I was… ” His voice cracked on the last word, and you felt your chest tighten painfully.

You didn’t say anything, but your arms tightened around him, your hand moving in slow, soothing circles over his back. He sighed, the sound shaky but relieved, and pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were glassy, his expression vulnerable in a way that made your heart ache.

“But you don’t see me like that,” he continued, his voice steadier now. “You don’t treat me like I’m… less because of them. And that means more to me than I can ever say.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and for a moment, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You’d always known Sol had his own darkness, his own pain, but hearing it laid bare like this was almost too much. And yet, at the same time, it made you love him even more—not just the parts of him that were easy to love, but the parts that were messy and complicated and broken.

But that scared you. Because as much as you loved his obsessive side, as much as you reveled in the way he clung to you, you were terrified of falling for him completely. Fully. You weren’t sure you could handle that—weren’t sure what it would mean if you did.

Sol was watching you, his gaze searching, and you forced yourself to smile, leaning in to kiss his ear softly. The reaction was instant—he gasped, his body jerking slightly as his hands tightened on your waist. “Y-You can’t just—” he started, but his words were cut off as you kissed him again, this time lower, just below his ear.

“You’re so easy to kill with affection.” you murmured, your voice low but tinged with teasing affection. His cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red, and you couldn’t help but smile.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room the faint drip of water from the faucet. Then, quietly, you mumbled, “Thank you.”

Sol blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What?” he asked, his tone soft but curious.

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze, and smiled again. “Thank you for existing,” you said simply. And then, before he could respond, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, cutting off any words he might’ve tried to say.

Sol didn’t speak again after that. He didn’t need to. The way he held you, the way he looked at you—

The bathwater rippled softly as you guided Sol to sit down in front of you, his towel still loosely draped around his waist. He obeyed without hesitation, his long hair cascading down his back like a silken curtain. His trust in you was absolute, and it made your heart race in the quiet intimacy of the moment. The thought of him being so compliant, so willing to let you care for him, stirred something darkly possessive within you.

With a gentleness that belied the turmoil in your chest, you reached for the shampoo, pouring a generous amount into your hands before running your fingers through his damp hair. Sol sighed softly at the sensation, leaning into your touch as you worked the lather through his locks. His hair was thick and slightly tangled from the water, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you relished every second of it—each tangle you smoothed out felt like another piece of him you were unraveling, another part of him that was undeniably yours.

Your fingers massaged his scalp, his body relaxed further, his shoulders slumping slightly as a soft sigh escaped his lips. The sound was so sweet, so achingly tender, that it sent a thrill through you. You leaned forward without thinking, pressing a kiss to his forehead. His skin was warm beneath your lips, and he made a small, almost contented noise in response. It was domestic in a way you hadn’t expected, and the realization made your chest tighten.

You could feel your thoughts beginning to spiral again, the possessiveness bubbling up as you watched him sit there so obediently, so sweetly. Sol wasn’t just letting you care for him—he was surrendering to you completely, trusting you in a way that no one else ever had. And God, how you loved it. The sight of him like this, vulnerable and utterly at your mercy, made something primal and obsessive stir deep within you.

He was yours. He had to be. No one else could ever see him like this, touch him like this. You wouldn’t allow it.

“Sol,” you murmured, your voice low and husky as you continued to work the shampoo through his hair. He hummed in response, tilting his head slightly to the side as if to give you better access. The gesture was so unthinking, so natural, that it made your breath hitch.

“You’re perfect like this,” you said softly, almost to yourself. He didn’t respond, but the slight flush that crept up the back of his neck told you he’d heard. You leaned down again, pressing another kiss to the crown of his head before rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. The water ran down his back in rivulets, and you couldn’t resist trailing your fingers along the path it made, watching as his skin shivered under your touch.

“You’re spoiling me,” Sol said after a moment, his voice quiet but tinged with affection.

“You deserve it,” you replied simply, reaching for the conditioner. You poured some into your hands before running your fingers through his hair again, taking your time as you worked it in. Sol sighed softly, the sound so content and trusting that it made your chest ache.

It felt almost too good to be true, this moment with him. You’d always loved his obsessive devotion to you, the way he clung to you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. But now, sitting here with him, washing his hair and hearing the soft sounds of his breathing, you realized something terrifying: you weren’t just obsessed with him. You loved him. Fully, completely, and with a depth that scared you.

You reached for the soap, lathering it in your hands as you gestured for Sol to sit still. His body glistened with water under the soft light of the bathroom, and as you began to wash him, your fingers trailing over his shoulders, he let out a soft sigh. His head tilted slightly, his long hair cascading over one side as if to give you better access.

“Relax,” you murmured, a small, knowing smile playing on your lips. He obeyed immediately, his body pliant under your touch. The sight of him like this—his skin warm and damp, his eyes fluttering shut—sent a quiet thrill through you. You’d never tire of how easily he surrendered to you, how completely he trusted you.

Your hands glided down his arms, the lather spreading as you worked it over his skin. His breathing slowed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm as if he were falling into a trance. You took your time, letting your fingers explore every curve and line of his body, as though committing it all to memory. When your hands brushed over his chest, you felt the soft hitch in his breath, the faint quiver of his muscles beneath your touch.

“Sol,” you teased, your voice soft but playful. “Are you falling asleep on me?”

“N-No,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes remained closed, and a faint blush crept up his neck.

You chuckled, the sound low and intimate as your hands trailed lower, over his ribs and toward his stomach. His body shivered under your touch, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride at how responsive he was to you. Sol was like putty in your hands, utterly enchanted by your touch.

But just as you let your fingers glide over the taut planes of his stomach, spreading the lather in slow, deliberate circles, his eyes shot open. The spell broke, and he blinked at you as if he’d just realized what was happening.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice tinged with both embarrassment and something softer, something deeper.

You grinned, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you leaned in closer. “What?” you asked innocently, your hands still trailing over his skin. “I’m just making sure you’re clean.”

His blush deepened, spreading across his cheeks and down his neck as he averted his gaze. “Y-You’re too good at this,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

You laughed softly, the sound warm and teasing as you reached up to cup his face. “Sol,” you murmured, your voice dropping into something softer, more intimate. “You’re adorable.”

His eyes flicked back to yours, wide and uncertain, and for a moment, he looked so vulnerable, so utterly disarmed, that your heart skipped a beat. But then the mischievous glint returned to your eyes, and you leaned in, pressing a quick, playful kiss to the tip of his nose.

He let out a startled noise, his blush deepening even further as he stared at you, utterly flustered. “W-What was that for?” he asked, his voice high-pitched and incredulous.

You shrugged, a sly smile curling your lips as you reached for the water to rinse him off. “Just because,” you replied simply.

The water cascaded over his skin, washing away the soap as your hands followed the trail of the water. He shivered again, his body instinctively leaning into your touch despite his obvious embarrassment. When you were finished, you grabbed a towel and began patting him dry, taking your time as you worked your way from his shoulders down to his arms and chest.

Sol squirmed slightly under your touch, his blush still burning brightly as he mumbled, “You’re treating me like a kid.”

You grinned, tilting your head to the side as you looked at him. “Oh? Is that so?” you teased, patting his cheeks with the towel.

“Stop!” he protested, his voice flustered as he tried to swat your hands away.

But you didn’t stop. Instead, you leaned in closer, your smile turning downright mischievous as you patted his face even more, the towel brushing against his warm, flushed skin. “You’re too cute when you’re embarrassed, Sol,” you said, your voice full of teasing affection.

He groaned, burying his face in his hands as he mumbled, “You’re impossible.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine as you ruffled his hair with the towel. “And you’re spoiled,” you shot back, your tone playful but fond.

When you finally pulled back, letting him breathe, you noticed how he avoided your gaze, his blush still firmly in place. He looked so sweet, so utterly flustered, that you couldn’t resist leaning in one last time, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

The air was warm after the bath, the scent of lavender soap lingering as Sol wrapped a towel around himself and turned toward you. His damp hair clung to his neck and shoulders, his expression soft as he stepped closer and, without warning, pulled you into a hug. The embrace was firm, grounding, and for a moment, you melted into his arms.

Before you could do anything more—tease him, pull him closer, or whisper something playful—he scooped you up and dropped you gently onto the bed. Your body bounced slightly against the mattress, and you looked up at him, smirking.

“You’re bold,” you teased, reaching for him instinctively. Your hands brushed his wrist as you tried to tug him down toward you, but he hesitated, stepping back. The way his ears turned red betrayed him, though.

You sighed softly, letting your hands fall to your sides. “Alright, alright,” you murmured, slipping off the bed and heading to grab some clothes. You rifled through the pile of garments he had stolen—or rather, borrowed—during his… more obsessive days, you found a hoodie of yours that you recognized instantly. It was one of your favorites, worn and soft, and it smelled faintly of detergent and something uniquely Sol.

It was obvious he had cleaned it meticulously, almost reverently. That thought alone sent a small shiver through you as you pulled it over your head. It hung loose and comfortable, perfectly worn in. You smiled, shaking your head softly. Of course, he’d take care of it so well. Sol, with all his odd little habits and quirks, always had a way of surprising you.

Beneath the hoodie, you slipped into your undergarments, feeling comfortable enough in the privacy of his room. Though you spotted pants folded neatly nearby, you ignored them. You were decent enough, and the hoodie covered what it needed to.

The room was cozy, his scent mingling with the fresh linen and faint hints of candle wax. You flopped onto the bed, burying your face in his pillow. It smelled so much like him that it made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t prepared for. Your arms curled around it instinctively, hugging it close as you let yourself relax.

Sol excused himself to dress, leaving you momentarily alone. Your eyes wandered, they landed on the walls. Among the minimalist decorations were posters of classic horror stories—The Headless Horseman and a strikingly eerie illustration inspired by the Grimm brothers’ fairy tales.

You smiled softly. Of course, Sol would have a taste for horror fiction. There was something so fitting about it, considering how quiet and unassuming he could be, yet with that darker edge lurking beneath his calm demeanor. You liked it. More than that, you liked that it was such a unique part of him.

When Sol returned, his hair still damp but neatly combed, his gaze immediately darted toward you. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of you sprawled on his bed, his pillow hugged tightly to your chest, wearing his hoodie.

“Uh… I-I can make some soup,” he stammered, his voice awkward and shy. His eyes flicked away from you as though looking directly at you was too much. “If… you want something warm.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow, grinning mischievously. “That sounds nice,” you replied, your voice light. Then, you noticed his gaze drop briefly before he looked away again, his blush deepening.

“If you need pants, I… I could give you a pair,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

You laughed softly, sitting up and adjusting the hoodie. “I’ve got undergarments on,” you said, winking at him. “I’m not naked, Sol.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as though trying to compose himself. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, but his lips curved into the faintest of smiles.

Instead of heading for the kitchen, he sat down beside you on the bed, his shoulders tense. His gaze flicked to the posters on the wall as if trying to avoid meeting your eyes.

“You seem tired,” he said softly, his voice quieter now.

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment before deciding to ask. “The posters,” you said, nodding toward the wall. “You like horror fiction?”

He froze slightly, his lips parting as though he wasn’t sure how to respond. Then, with a soft sigh, he nodded. “Yeah. It’s… something I’ve always liked,” he admitted.

You smiled, leaning against the headboard. “I already knew,” you said casually, your tone light.

His head snapped toward you, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and apprehension.

“Don’t worry,” you continued, your voice calm and reassuring. “I’ve stalked you too, Sol.”

“Oh, I keep…”

You shifted closer to him, your smile softening. “I still can’t believe we’re together,” you said quietly, almost as if speaking the words to yourself. “It feels… like a dream.”

Sol’s gaze flicked toward you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he looked away, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. But then, he smiled—a small, shy smile that made your heart ache.

Without thinking, you reached for him, pulling him into a hug. His head rested against your chest, and you let your fingers trail through his damp hair.

“You’re too sweet,” you murmured, your voice teasing but filled with affection.

He didn’t say anything, but the way he melted into your embrace told you everything you needed to know.

You began to toy with his hair, gathering it into your hands and tying it into a loose ponytail. The strands were silky and soft between your fingers, and you couldn’t resist brushing them aside to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Why do you like me?” he asked suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper.

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were silent, your hands stilling in his hair. Then, you smiled, your lips curving into something soft and tender.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said simply, leaning down to press another kiss to his forehead.

He looked up at you, his eyes wide and searching, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he smiled.

Sol settled against you, the closeness between you became almost unbearable. His head rested on your chest, the soft rise and fall of your breathing syncing as though you were two halves of a whole. Slowly, his hand reached out, brushing against yours tentatively at first, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed this level of intimacy.

But when your fingers curled instinctively around his, his hesitation melted. His hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing softly against your knuckles in a silent reassurance. His warmth radiated into you, and you couldn’t help but sigh softly.

Then, without a word, he shifted slightly. His legs intertwined with yours, his movements slow and careful as if testing the waters. The heat of his skin against yours sent a shiver up your spine, and you had to bite your lip to keep from making a sound.

“Sol,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He looked up at you, his eyes soft yet intense, his expression unreadable. His head tilted slightly, and before you could say anything else, he leaned closer. His forehead rested against yours, his damp hair falling slightly over his face.

The way he looked at you, so full of quiet devotion, made your heart race. Your breaths mingled, and the air between you felt thick with something unspoken.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, his voice so soft it was almost a breath.

You didn’t trust your voice, so you nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself sink into the moment.

His hand tightened slightly around yours, and his leg shifted, pressing more firmly against yours. The closeness was overwhelming, intoxicating, and you couldn’t help the soft noise that escaped your lips—a quiet, almost inaudible moan that you couldn’t suppress.

Sol froze for a moment, his eyes wide as he pulled back slightly to look at you. His face was flushed, his lips parted in surprise.

“Did you just—?” he began, his voice tinged with both surprise and embarrassment.

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you quickly averted your gaze, trying to brush it off. “Don’t get too cocky,” you muttered, your voice laced with playful annoyance.

But he didn’t let it go. A small, mischievous smile tugged at his lips, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Was that because of me?”

“What was that sound?” he asked softly, as if he wasn’t sure whether it was intentional or not, but he was enjoying the effect it had on you.

Your heart raced, and you almost cursed yourself for how easily he could reduce you to a mess of emotions. You bit your lip, trying to keep quiet, but it was becoming harder by the second.

His hand slid down to your neck, gently pressing against the sensitive skin there. His thumb stroked over your pulse point, and you couldn’t hold back the soft gasp that escaped your lips.

Sol’s eyes widened slightly as your breath hitched, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “Is that… making you nervous?” he asked, voice dripping with mischief.

You turned your head to the side, avoiding his gaze, but his fingers remained on your neck, steadying you. You felt the tension between you, the way his presence seemed to wrap around you like a gentle, but inescapable, force.

His chuckle rumbled softly in his chest, and you could feel it against your skin as he leaned in once more. “You’re cute when you try to hide it,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

Another involuntary noise slipped from your lips—a soft whimper that you couldn’t control.

Sol’s smirk deepened, and he pulled back just enough to catch your eye. “So sensitive,” he murmured, almost like a revelation. “I didn’t think I’d get you this flustered so easily.”

Your face flushed with embarrassment, but you couldn’t find it in you to pull away from him. You were stuck in a whirlwind of emotions, of desires you didn’t want to face. It was so easy for him to turn your insides into a tangled mess with just a few touches, a few words.

He leaned in again, pressing a soft kiss to your ear, then your jaw, trailing down to your neck. Each kiss was slow, deliberate, and it made your heart beat faster. With every movement, he pushed you closer to the edge of restraint, knowing just how far to go before pulling back.

“You’re making it hard for me to resist,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with longing. “But I think you like this, don’t you?”

“Sol…” you breathed, and you couldn’t help but sound desperate. You hated how easily he had you on the edge, how quickly he could make you lose control of yourself.

He smiled softly, sensing the change in your tone. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice just above a whisper, but it felt like a declaration. His words wrapped around you, and the possessiveness in his voice made your heart race even more.

You couldn’t find words, couldn’t fight the overwhelming desire that was building between you both. You could feel his pulse quicken, his breath becoming more erratic, and you knew that you were both slipping further into something you couldn’t pull back from.

Sol’s hand slid down your back, pulling you closer once more. You gasped, the closeness of your bodies making everything feel more intense, more urgent. You could feel his lips on your skin again, each kiss deeper than the last.

Sol’s fingers danced along your spine, sending tingles through your body with each light caress. He leaned in close, his warm breath ghosting over your ear as he whispered, “I’m going to make you feel so good, Pumpkin.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you let out a soft moan, arching into his touch. Sol chuckled, the vibrations causing your sensitive skin to prickle with delight. “Like that, huh?” he teased, nipping playfully at your earlobe.

His other hand came up to cup your cheek, turning your face towards his. Your lips met in a slow, sensual kiss, tongues dancing together in a heated dance. Sol’s hands roamed your body, tracing the curves of your hips and thighs before sliding up under your hoodie to explore the smooth expanse of your stomach.

“Ah-”

Sol’s fingers trailed lower, dipping beneath the hem of your skirt to brush against the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. He smiled against your mouth, feeling your muscles tense in anticipation. “Patience, my dear,” he cooed, his breath hot against your skin.

Slowly, deliberately, his hand crept higher, until his fingertips grazed the damp fabric of your panties. You cried out, your hips jerking involuntarily as electric pleasure zapped through you. Sol’s eyes darkened with lust at the sound of your desperation, and he pressed a final, teasing kiss to your lips before pulling back.

“Shh, relax,” he soothed, his voice low and husky. “Let me take care of you.” With a deft motion, he teases your sex, baring you completely to his hungry gaze.

Sol’s eyes gleamed with wicked intent as He raked over your exposed sex, drinking in the sight of your exposed….. Without warning, He dipped between your thighs, spreading you open further for their exploration.

“Ahhh!” you gasped, back arching off the bed as their skilled fingers found your most sensitive spots. They stroke? circled? applying just the right amount of pressure to send waves of ecstasy crashing through you.

Sol’s free hand slid up your body to palm one of your chest, rolling the nipple between his fingers as they continued their relentless assault on your clit. The dual sensations were almost too much to bear, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of a precipice, desperate for release.

“You’re so responsive,” Sol murmured, their voice a husky growl of approval. “I can’t wait to see you come undone.”

Sol groaned, his fingers faltering in their delicious torment of your clit as you suddenly turned the tables, your small hands wrapping around his neck and pulling him down into a searing kiss. Your tongue dueled with theirs, a playful dominance asserting itself even as your laughter bubbled up from within you.

When you finally broke the kiss, panting and grinning up at Sol, there was a mischievous glint in your eye. “Did you have fun, hmm?” you teased, your fingers trailing down his chest to wrap around the thick length of his erection. Sol’s breath hitched, his hips bucking instinctively into your touch.

“Oh, I think it’s time we even the score,” you giggled, giving his cock a squeeze that made him grunt. Your hands moved with frantic energy, stroking and twisting, exploring every inch of his heated flesh.

Sol’s eyes rolled back in bliss as your skilled hands worked their magic, coaxing his member to full, throbbing hardness. Each stroke sent jolts of electric pleasure coursing through his veins, making him tremble with anticipation.

Your fingers danced along the sensitive underside, teasing the frenulum until it twitched beneath your touch. Then, with a wicked grin, you wrapped your thumb around the head, applying just the right amount of pressure to make him see stars. Sol’s hips jerked erratically, seeking more of your tantalizing friction.

Lost in the haze of lust, he tangled his fingers in your hair, tugging gently as he guided your mouth closer to his aching cock. “Please,” he begged, his voice husky with need. “I want to feel those sweet lips around me.”

Despite Sol’s pleas, you continued to deny him direct contact, instead focusing on tormenting his neck with tender bites and languid kisses. His whimpering only seemed to encourage you, fueling the fire burning within.

With a particularly sharp nip to his jugular, you murmured against his skin, “Not yet, my love. We’re going to take this nice and slow.” Your hot breath ghosted over his pulse point, causing it to race further out of control.

Sol’s body tensed, straining for release even as he knew it was futile. The combination of your teasing touch and maddening kisses had him teetering on the edge, desperate for more. But you remained resolute, determined to draw out his pleasure until he was writhing in ecstasy.

Sol’s breath came in ragged gasps as you toyed with him, your fingers tracing patterns along the shaft of his cock while your lips left a trail of love bites across his throat. Each delicate touch and nip sent shockwaves of desire rippling through him, threatening to shatter his composure.

“Please, Pumpkin,” he whimpered, his voice cracking with desperation. “I can't… I need…”

But you simply chuckled, the vibrations humming against his skin as you peppered his neck with open-mouthed kisses. Your hand slid lower, cupping the heavy weight of his balls and rolling them gently between your fingers.

Sol’s knees nearly buckled at the sensation, his mind clouding with pleasure.

Sol’s body shook like a leaf in a storm as you expertly manipulated his most sensitive areas. The gentle caress of your fingers against his testicles sent waves of euphoria crashing over him, each passing second drawing him closer to the brink of climax.

“Y/n…” he groaned, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so close… Don’t stop, please…”

Despite his urgent pleas, you continued to tease and torment him, refusing to grant him the release he so desperately craved. Your fingers tightened around his balls, applying just the right amount of pressure to keep him hovering on the precipice of orgasm.

Sol’s hips bucked wildly, seeking friction anywhere he could get it. His cock throbbed in your grasp, the head a deep, pulsating purple as it strained towards your palm.

With a sudden, decisive movement, you pulled your hand away from Sol’s aching cock, leaving him bereft and shaking with unfulfilled need. He let out a strangled cry, his body arching off the bed as if trying to follow the path of your retreating fingers.

“No, wait!” Sol pleaded, his voice raw with desperation. “Don’t stop now, please!”

But you merely smiled enigmatically, your gaze locked onto his tortured expression. Slowly, deliberately, you began to remove your clothes, revealing inch after inch of creamy, unblemished skin.

Sol’s eyes widened, drinking in the sight of your naked form. His gaze lingered, the gentle curve of your waist, and the tantalizing hint of your sex peeking out from between your thighs.

Sol watched, transfixed, you slipped out of your remaining garments, leaving yourself bare and beautiful before him. His breath caught in his throat at the breathtaking sight, and he couldn’t help but drool slightly in anticipation.

But instead of closing the distance and indulging in the carnal delights offered, you suddenly adopted a playful, domineering tone. “Now, pet, it’s time for your punishment,” you declared, a wicked gleam in your eye.

Without warning, you grasped Sol’s wrists and pinned them above his head, holding him in place with an iron grip. “Be a good boy and accept what’s coming to you,” you cooed, your voice dripping with mock sweetness.

Leaning in close, you whispered hotly against his ear, “Good boy, Sol. Such a naughty, needy little pup, aren’t you?”

Sol’s eyes widened in confusion and frustration as you giggled, the sound like music to his ears despite the torment you were inflicting upon him. “What…what are you doing?” he stammered, his chest heaving with exertion.

Just as he thought you might finally give in to his desperate needs, you leaned down and wrapped your fingers around his throbbing cock once more. Sol’s back arched off the bed, a guttural moan escaping his lips as your warm touch enveloped him.

But then, you spoke, your voice low and commanding. “Remember, pet, you’re not allowed to cum. Not until I say so.”

Sol’s mind reeled, struggling to comprehend the twisted game you were playing. His body, however, responded instinctively, already tensing and preparing for the inevitable release.

Sol’s world tilted on its axis as your plush lips closed around the head of his cock, your tongue darting out to lick the sensitive underside. He cried out, his fingers digging into the sheets as he fought the urge to thrust deeper into the heavenly warmth of your mouth.

“P-pumpkin, oh god, yes!” he gasped, his voice a hoarse whisper. “More, please, I need…”

But even as the plea left his lips, you pulled back, denying him the intense pleasure he so desperately craved. Your lips hovered just inches from his aching flesh, and you looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Not yet, pet,” you purred, your breath ghosting over his sensitive tip. “We’re going to take this slow and savor every moment.”

With a sly smile, you resumed your sensual assault on Sol’s cock, lavishing attention on the throbbing length with your lips, tongue, and teeth. Each kiss, each lap of your tongue, sent jolts of electricity coursing through his veins, driving him closer to the edge.

Your hands roamed his body, exploring every contour and crevice with a hungry curiosity. Fingers danced across his nipples, tweaking and tugging until they pebbled beneath your touch. Lower still, you traced the lines of his abs, dipping into his navel before continuing downward to tease the sensitive skin behind his balls.

Sol’s moans grew louder, more desperate, as you worked him over with skillful precision. His hips bucked reflexively, seeking more of your tantalizing touches, but you held firm, maintaining control over the pace of his pleasure.

“Please, Y/n, I can't… It’s too much,” he begged, his voice breaking on a sob. “Hurry, make me cum, I need it so badly!”

Sol’s entire being was consumed by the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. His muscles clenched and released in rhythmic spasms, searching for purchase as his mind fogged with lust. Whimpers and gasps spilled from his lips, punctuating the air with his desperate need for release.

Despite his impassioned pleas, you continued your deliberate, torturous pace. Your mouth slid up and down his shaft, coating it in saliva as you hummed a seductive melody against his sensitive skin. Meanwhile, your fingers pressed insistently against his virgin hole, coaxing it open ever so slightly.

Sol’s vision blurred, his senses overwhelmed by the dual stimuli.

Just as Sol was about to surrender to the impending orgasm, you abruptly ceased all contact, leaving him aching and empty. He whined in protest, his hips jerking erratically as he struggled to process the sudden withdrawal of pleasure.

“No, no, no!” you chided gently, your voice a soothing balm amidst the turmoil. “Not yet, my love. We have to hold it for me, okay?”

Sol’s gaze snapped to yours, desperation etched across his features. “But why?….” he asked, his words slurring together in his haste to understand.

You reached out, cupping his cheek tenderly. “Because I want to see how far we can push ourselves, darling. How deep our love can go when we’re willing to explore the darkest, most forbidden corners of desire.”

With a sultry smirk, you returned to worshipping Sol’s cock, your lips sealing around the swollen head once more. He groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair as you began to suckle him with renewed vigor.

Your tongue swirled around the sensitive crown, lapping up the precum that had begun to leak in response to your teasing. The taste of his arousal filled your mouth, a heady elixir that only served to heighten your own desire.

You bobbed your head along his length, your free hand resumed its exploration of Sol’s body. Fingers trailed down his stomach, circling his navel before delving lower to stroke the delicate skin behind his testicles.

Sol’s thighs trembled, his legs falling open wider in invitation.

Sol’s body was a living, breathing flame, every inch of him burning with need as you continued to worship his cock with your skilled mouth. Your lips and tongue worked in perfect harmony, drawing out moans and whimpers of pure bliss from his tortured soul.

The sensation of your fingers dancing across his skin, tracing patterns of pleasure, only added fuel to the inferno raging within him. His hips rocked involuntarily, seeking more of your tantalizing touch, even as he struggled to maintain control over his rapidly unraveling composure.

“fuck, your mouth feels incredible,” Sol gasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his climax. “I don’t know how much longer I can… Ahh, god, yes, just like that!”

Sol’s cries of pleasure echoed through the room, a symphony of desperation and need. His body shook like a leaf, every muscle tensed and coiled as he teetered on the precipice of ecstasy. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, his vision blurring with the intensity of his emotions.

“Oh, please, I can't… I’m going to…!” he wailed, his voice high-pitched and trembling. The pitiful sounds of his sobs and whimpers mingled with the wet slap of your lips on his cock, creating a perverse harmony of lust and anguish.

“Now, Sol, give it to me,” you commanded softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Cum for me, my love.”

At your words, Sol’s control shattered. With a hoarse cry, he exploded, his hot seed spurting into your eagerly waiting mouth. You swallowed every drop, relishing the salty-sweet taste of his release as it coated your tongue.

Sol’s orgasm subsided, you released his softening cock from your lips with a gentle pop. A shiver ran through you at the sight of his spent form, his chest heaving with exertion. Almost imperceptibly, a whimper escaped your own lips, a sound of raw, unbridled desire that seemed to come from the very depths of your being.

Sol stared at you in awe, his glazed eyes drinking in the sight of your cum-streaked lips and flushed cheeks. A soft, dazed murmur escaped his lips as he tried to process the intensity of what had just transpired between you.

“That was… incredible,” he breathed, his voice shaky and laced with wonder. “Seeing you take my cum like that, smiling at me with your mouth still full of it…”

He trailed off, his gaze fixating on your tongue as it lazily licked across your lower lip, cleaning away the remnants of his essence. The erotic display sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through Sol’s veins, leaving him feeling weak and utterly spent.

His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the bed, his body limp and pliant beneath the covers.

Sol lay there, lost in the aftermath of his intense climax, you crawled onto the bed beside him, your movements slow and sensual. You leaned in close, your warm breath ghosting across his skin as you whispered huskily in his ear.

Your hand drifted down his torso, tracing the contours of his abdomen before dipping lower to brush against the sensitive flesh of his inner thigh. Sol’s eyelids fluttered shut, a soft sigh escaping his parted lips as he surrendered to your touch.

Sol’s senses were overwhelmed by the intoxicating aroma of your skin, the scent of your very essence enveloping him like a comforting embrace. It was a fragrance unlike anything else, a unique blend that spoke directly to his soul, igniting a primal hunger within him.

His nostrils flared, drawing in deeper breaths as he inhaled the heady musk. It was a smell that made his heart race, his pulse pound, and his loins throb with desperate need. This was the scent of his soulmate, the one thing capable of reducing him to a panting, whimpering mess.

Sol groaned, his voice thick with lust. “Your smell is driving me crazy. I need to bury my face in you, to lose myself in it forever.”

With a wicked grin, you pressed closer, allowing Sol to breathe in your scent more deeply. His hands instinctively reached for you, eager to pull you flush against his heated body, but you deftly evaded his grasp, trailing your fingers along his skin instead.

In an instant, you found yourself on your back, Sol looming above you with a triumphant glint in his eye. His hands pinned your wrists to the mattress, holding you in place as he towered over your prone form.

“What did you expect, Ame?” he growled, his voice low and menacing. “After the way you tormented me today, leaving me a sobbing, cum-drunk mess, you thought you could escape retribution?”

Sol’s free hand slid down your stomach, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip before dipping lower, seeking the heat between your thighs. You shivered, a gasp escaping your lips his touch sending jolts of electricity through your nervous system.

“You deserve this, every tease and taunt coming back tenfold,”

Your eyes widened in shock. You squirmed beneath him, trying to wriggle free from his grip, but he held fast, his gaze burning into yours with a fierce intensity.

“No, wait!” you stammered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and arousal. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear! I just…got carried away, okay? It wasn’t supposed to lead to this!”

Sol’s expression softened slightly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he listened to your frantic protests. He released your wrists, allowing you to move, but only to slide his hand further up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher in the process.

“Oh, I think it’s exactly what you wanted,” he countered, his tone gentle yet persuasive.

“Don’t try to deny it, Pumpkin,” Sol murmured, his fingers brushing against the damp lace of your panties. “Your body’s reaction tells a different story. You’re just as desperate for this as I am.”

Without waiting for a response, Sol leaned down, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive flesh as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh. Each tender touch sent sparks racing up your spine, leaving you quivering and aching for more.

“Sol…” you whimpered, your hips bucking involuntarily as his warm breath ghosted over your most intimate area. The sudden onslaught of sensations had your mind reeling, thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm.

“It’s not fair, I swear!” you managed to gasp out between moans, even as your body betrayed your words, arching into Sol’s ministrations. “We were just…playing around, having fun! This isn’t part of the game!”

Despite your protests, your fingers threaded through Sol’s hair, urging him closer, silently begging for more of that exquisite torture. The conflicting emotions warring within you - guilt, excitement, need - created a dizzying cocktail that left you breathless and helpless beneath his skilled touch.

Sol chuckled darkly, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine as he continued his sensual assault. “Oh, but it feels so good, doesn’t it?” he purred, his tongue darting out to taste your essence, savoring the tangy sweetness of your arousal.

You cried out, your back bowing off the bed as Sol worked you open, claiming you as his own.

“That’s it, ” he coaxed, his voice a seductive rumble. “Let me in, let me make you mine.”

You felt your mind clouding, thoughts fragmenting into nothingness. All that remained was the intense pleasure coursing through your veins, the overwhelming urge to surrender completely to the man dominating your body.

“Y-yes, Sol, please,” you begged, your voice barely recognizable, consumed by a possessive fervor. “Make me yours, fill me up, mark me as your own!”

In your haze, you couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else experiencing Sol’s touch, his passion. The very idea sent a surge of jealous rage through your bloodstream, fueling your desperation to claim him just as fiercely.

“I’m yours, only yours,” you declared, your nails raking down Sol’s back as you pulled him closer, crushing your mouth to his in a bruising kiss.

Sol groaned into the kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth with wild abandon as he drove his fingers deeper, hitting that sweet spot within you that made stars explode behind your eyelids. Your body convulsed, a scream tearing from your throat as the first wave of your climax crashed over you.

But Sol wasn’t done yet. He withdrew his fingers, leaving you empty and aching, before replacing them with his thick cock. With a single powerful thrust, he buried himself to your aching hole, stretching you wide around his girth.

“Ahhh fuck, you feel incredible,” he rasped, his hips beginning to piston in and out at a relentless pace. “So tight, so perfect. Mine.”

he pounded into you, Sol’s hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises, marking you as his territory.

“Please, Sol, harder!” you pleaded, your voice ragged with desire and something deeper, more primal. “Fill me up, make me yours forever!”

With a guttural growl, Sol obliged, his thrusts becoming brutal and unrelenting as he chased his own release. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your cries of ecstasy.

Just as Sol’s movements became erratic, signaling his impending climax, he paused, his cock still buried deep within you. He cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his intense gaze.

You were lost in the throes of passion, your body writhing beneath Sol’s, when his movements suddenly halted. Confused, you opened your eyes to find him staring intently at you, his piercing gaze searching your features.

“Y/n..” he prompted, his voice low and urgent. “Will we make a good family, together always?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning, until the shrill ring of a phone shattered the moment. Sol cursed under his breath, pulling out of you and reaching for the device on the nightstand.

You watched, bewildered, as he answered the call, his expression darkening with each passing second. His jaw clenched, and a vein pulsed in his temple, betraying his growing anger.

“Who is it?” you finally managed to ask, though you already suspected the answer based on Sol’s reaction.

Sol ended the call abruptly, tossing the phone aside with a snarl. He turned to you, his eyes blazing with a fierce, possessive light.

“Crowe,” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. “Thinks he can just call here, now? After everything? Didn’t you stop talking to him? Why is he bothering you..?”

Before you could respond, Sol’s lips crashed against your neck, biting down hard enough to draw blood. You gasped, a mix of pain and pleasure coursing through you as he claimed you once more.

Sol’s jealousy was palpable, a living thing that wrapped around you both, squeezing tight. In that moment, you reveled in it, in the knowledge that Crowe’s interference had sparked such a raw, primal reaction in your lover.

“You’re mine,” Sol growled against your skin, his teeth scraping lightly over the wound he’d inflicted.

Sol’s grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he held you close, his hot breath fanning over your ear. “He thinks he can have you, after all this time? After everything I’ve done for you?”

His voice was a low, menacing purr, laced with dark promise. You could practically feel the obsessive hunger radiating off him, the sheer intensity of his desire to keep you, to possess you utterly.

“Hmmm? Only you of course! But you’re jealous thats so cute!!”

Sol’s eyes flashed with a dangerous light at your teasing words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He captured your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue invading, staking his claim.

When he broke away, his lips curled into a smirk, a hint of fang visible. “Cute? You think my jealousy is cute?”

His hand slid up your ribcage, fingers closing around your throat in a gentle but unmistakable grasp. “I’ll show you cute,” he purred, leaning in close. “I’ll worship every inch of you, until you’re begging me to stop.”

Sol’s breath washed over your face, You felt yourself melting into his touch, your body responding eagerly to his dark promises.

Sol cupped your cheeks, but his eyes never left yours, burning with an intensity that made your heart race. “You want my obsession,” he whispered, his voice low and husky. “You want to be consumed by it, to feel like you’re the only thing that matters in this world?”

Without waiting for a response, he captured your lips again, kissing you with a ferocity that stole your breath. His hands roamed your body, touching you everywhere at once, claiming every curve and contour as his own.

Sol’s teeth scraped against your bottom lip, tugging gently before soothing the sting with his tongue. He explored your mouth with renewed urgency, as if trying to map every inch of you, to memorize the taste and feel of you.

Breaking the kiss, Sol pressed his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged.

Sol’s eyes gleamed with a manic intensity, a crazed devotion that sent shivers down your spine. He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours as he spoke in a fervent whisper.

“I love you, I love you so much it hurts. Every breath I take is for you, every heartbeat, every thought.” His hands framed your face, thumbs stroking your cheekbones with a tender reverence that belied the wildness in his gaze.

“You’re my everything, my reason for existing. Without you, there’s nothing. No purpose, no joy, no life.” Sol’s voice cracked, emotion raw and exposed. “I’d do anything for you, kill anyone who tries to take you from me and I’m yours, forever and always.”

Sol’s declaration hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his all-consuming love. He pulled back slightly, his fingers trailing down your neck, leaving a path of tingling heat in their wake.

With that, Sol’s mouth descended upon yours once more, kissing you with a desperate hunger. His hands roamed your body, kneading your flesh, claiming you as his own.

Sol’s gaze drifted down to your exposed neck, his eyes darkening with primal desire. Without hesitation, he leaned in, his teeth grazing the tender skin before sinking in just enough to leave a mark. A claim, a brand, a promise of possession.

He repeated this ritual along your collarbone and shoulder, each nip and suckle punctuating his devotion. Your skin prickled with goosebumps, a mix of pleasure and trepidation as you felt his love etched into your flesh.

Finally, Sol’s attention turned to your inner thigh, his mouth seeking out the delicate skin just above your knee. He nuzzled and kissed the area, his tongue darting out to taste the saltiness of your sweat before closing his lips around the tender flesh and sucking gently.

Before you could react, Sol shifted positions, pinning you beneath him. He ground his hips against yours, the thick length of his cock…

Without warning, he pushed forward, breaching your tight entrance with a single, forceful thrust. You cried out, shocked by the sudden intrusion, your body struggling to accommodate his girth.

Sol didn’t pause, not even for a moment. He began to move, his powerful thrusts driving him deeper into your willing depths. The burn was intense, but you welcomed it, reveling in the feeling of being so thoroughly possessed.

“Fuck, You feel so good”

“Sol, you keep teasing me- This isn’t fair..” you wailed, tears of pleasure streaming down your face as Sol continued to pound into you with ruthless abandon. Each brutal thrust sent shockwaves of ecstasy through your body, your walls clenching around his invading length.

Despite your protests, you couldn’t deny the intense arousal building within you. Your moans grew louder, more wanton, as your body surrendered to the overwhelming sensations.

Sol’s hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he drove himself deeper, chasing his release. “Fair? Life isn’t fair, Ame,” he panted, his breath hot against your ear. “But I’ll make you mine, completely, irrevocably. And you’ll love every minute of it.”

His words ignited a fire within you

Sol’s thrusts grew more erratic, his hips snapping forward with a primal urgency as he chased his impending orgasm.

With a guttural roar, he buried himself to the hilt, his seed erupting deep within your quivering passage. The sensation of him filling you, marking you as his, sent you spiraling further into rapture.

Sol quickly adjusted your position, flipping you onto your stomach and pulling your hips back to present yourself to him. He settled between your spread thighs, the head of his still-hard cock nudging insistently at your dripping entrance.

Without preamble, he surged forward, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. A low groan escaped him as he savored the tight heat enveloping his length, your inner walls clinging to him like a velvet vice.

He began to move, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each stroke driving him impossibly farther into your core. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, punctuated by your muffled moans and gasps.

Sol’s hands roamed your back, fingernails digging into your flesh as he claimed you, owning every inch of you.

With a gentleness that contrasted with his earlier passion, Sol’s movements became languid and measured. He savoring each slide of his engorged length within your welcoming warmth, relishing the way your slick channel adapted to his shape.

He rocked slowly into you, Sol’s fingertips traced tantalizing patterns along your spine, sending shivers down your nerves. His breath tickled your ear, his murmurs of affection weaving a spell of tranquility around you.

“Don’t tense up,” he cooed, his tone soothing. “Just relax and let me in. I promise I’ll take care of you, make it good for you.”

His hips undulated in a sensual rhythm, the subtle grind of his pelvis against your buttocks sparking pleasant friction.

With a final, brutal thrust, Sol buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he released a torrent of hot semen deep inside you. Your body clenched around him, milking his shaft for every last drop as you both trembled on the brink of ecstasy.

Sol pulled out of you with a wet squelch, his spent cock glistening with your combined fluids. He turned you over, his hands roaming your curves possessively as he positioned himself between your thighs once more.

“Again,” he growled, his eyes blazing with unquenchable hunger. “I won’t stop until you’re screaming my name and begging for mercy.”

With that, he plunged back into your waiting heat, his renewed erection stretching you open once more. Your legs wrapped around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back as you met his thrusts with equal fervor.

“Ahhh, yes!” you cried out, your nails digging into Sol’s shoulders as he pounded into you with unrelenting ferocity. “Harder, Sol, please!”

A high-pitched keen tore from your throat as Sol’s precise aim sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your entire being. Your inner walls fluttered and clenched around his pistoning cock, trying desperately to draw him in deeper.

Sol’s response was to redouble his efforts, fucking you with a wild abandon that bordered on feral. The sound of skin slapping against skin and your wanton moans created a filthy cacophony that only served to spur him on.

With a final, earth-shattering thrust, Sol buried himself to the hilt, his cock throbbing violently as he emptied himself inside you once more.

With a playful smirk, you reached up to toy with the delicate silver studs piercing Sol’s nipples. Your fingers danced across the metal, tracing the ridges and points, sending sparks of pleasure shooting straight to his already sensitive cock.

“Mmm, do you like that?” you purred, your breath hot against his chest as you leaned in close. “Feeling my touch on your pretty piercings?”

Sol let out a low groan, his hips bucking involuntarily as your teasing fingers sent jolts of electricity coursing through his body. “Pumpkin-,” he gasped, his voice thick with need. “Keep doing that and I might just come again.”

Sol’s eyes rolled back, a guttural moan escaping his lips as you continued to torment his sensitive nipples with your clever fingers. The combination of your touch and the gentle tugging on the piercings proved to be his undoing.

“I can't…fuck, I’m gonna…” he warned, his words trailing off into a strangled cry as his orgasm hit him like a freight train.

His cock jerked and spasmed, painting your stomach with streaks of hot cum as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over him. You watched, mesmerized, as Sol came undone in your arms, his body shaking with the force of his release.

When the aftershocks finally subsided, Sol collapsed against you, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. “That was…incredible,”

………After some time.

The aftermath of your shared intimacy left Sol visibly glowing, his cheeks tinted with a gentle pink hue that added to his already endearing expression. He nestled his face into the crook of your neck, sighing contentedly as his arms looped tightly around you. His touch was firm yet tender, a silent plea to stay close.

“You’re so good to me,” he murmured against your skin, his voice soft and dripping with affection.

You smiled, your fingers gently threading through his damp hair, brushing away any lingering strands clinging to his forehead. His vulnerability in moments like this was a stark contrast to the teasing and reserved Sol you’d come to adore. Here, he was open, raw, and so utterly lovable it made your chest ache.

“I love you like this, Sol,” you whispered, pressing a feather-light kiss to his temple. His arms tightened slightly around you in response, and you could feel his heart racing against yours.

Still wrapped in his warmth, you coaxed him to lay back, sitting beside him on the bed. “Let me take care of you,” you offered with a mischievous smile that made his blush deepen. He tried to glance away, but you caught his face gently, guiding his gaze back to yours.

“You always take such good care of me,” he murmured, his tone laced with shyness.

As you began tending to him, your touch was deliberate and soft, showing your affection with every small gesture. You wiped his face with a warm cloth, pressing soft kisses to his forehead and cheeks after each gentle stroke. His eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned into every touch, his lips parting slightly with a breathy sigh.

“You’re glowing,” you teased, earning a soft chuckle from him.

He opened his eyes slightly, still hazy with warmth and affection. “That’s because of you,” he replied earnestly, making your cheeks flush.

You shifted, positioning yourself to better reach him. He lay still, watching you with an almost reverent gaze as you kissed his shoulder, letting your lips linger to reassure him without words. You traced the outline of his arm with your fingers before pulling him closer.

“You’re perfect,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. The sincerity in your tone made his eyes widen before he hid his face in your chest, groaning softly.

“Stop saying things like that,” he mumbled, his voice muffled but undeniably affectionate.

“Why?” you teased, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Because you know it’s true?”

He groaned again, this time hiding his reddened ears. “Because you’re going to spoil me.”

“I already do,” you replied without missing a beat. “And I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

He let out a soft laugh, his body finally relaxing completely against yours. You took the opportunity to pull him back onto the bed, cradling him as you traced lazy patterns along his back. His breathing slowed, and for a moment, the world outside of your shared space didn’t matter.

Sol was practically glowing, his usual composed demeanor entirely replaced by something softer, something utterly endearing. A wide, boyish grin spread across his face as he buried himself into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist like he couldn’t bear to let go. His warmth radiated against you, his breaths slow and content as he nuzzled closer.

“You’re so warm,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. You could feel the slight curve of his smile pressing against you, making your chest tighten with affection.

“Look who’s talking,” you teased gently, running your fingers through his hair. It was soft to the touch, and he leaned into your hand like a cat seeking affection. “You’re practically burning up.”

“That’s your fault,” he shot back playfully, his cheeks darkening despite the confident tone. He shifted to look up at you, his glowing smile giving way to something more bashful as his gaze flickered between your eyes and lips. “You make me like this.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your hand cupping his cheek as you pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Good,” you whispered against his skin, savoring the way he shivered at your words. “I like you like this.”

The comment made his ears flush bright red, and he hid his face in your neck again, letting out a muffled groan. “You’re unfair,” he mumbled, though you could feel his grin widening against your skin.

“Me? Unfair?” you replied, feigning innocence as you trailed your hands down his back in slow, soothing motions. “You’re the one clinging to me like this.”

“Because I don’t want to let go,” he admitted softly, his vulnerability catching you off guard. He tilted his head just enough to look at you, his half-lidded gaze brimming with affection. “I feel safe like this. With you.”

Your heart swelled, and you leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips. It wasn’t hurried or passionate, but something slower, deeper—full of all the unspoken emotions you couldn’t put into words. When you pulled away, his grin was even wider, his expression utterly smitten.

“See?” you said softly, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “You’re glowing.”

“You keep saying that,” he murmured, but the way he hid his face against your chest again betrayed how much he loved hearing it.

You chuckled, cradling him as he melted further into your arms. “That’s because it’s true.” Your hands resumed their gentle path along his back, tracing small circles that made him sigh in pure contentment.

After a small bath, You had to pull Sol. He said he didn’t mind being covered..in whatever. You pushed him to the bathroom.

Sol was focused on the soup, carefully stirring the pot with a steady hand. The steam curled up around his face, his usual sharp features softened in the kitchen’s warm glow. You sat on the counter nearby, swinging your legs lightly as you watched him with a mischievous grin. He looked so domestic like this, a stark contrast to his usual composed self, and you couldn’t help but want to mess with him just a little.

Leaning forward, you reached out and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His hand froze mid-stir, his body stiffening for a moment as his ears turned red. “W-What are you doing?” he mumbled, not looking at you but clearly flustered.

“Nothing,” you replied innocently, already leaning in again. This time, you aimed for his jaw, letting your lips linger just long enough to make him squirm.

“Y/N…” he said quietly, his voice shaky but lacking any real resistance. He finally turned his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours, wide and full of embarrassment. “I’m cooking.”

“I can see that,” you teased, your grin widening as you kissed the corner of his mouth. “But you’re also very kissable right now.”

He flinched again, his grip on the spoon tightening as he tried to keep his composure. “You’re not making this easy,” he muttered under his breath, though his lips twitched upward in a small, shy smile.

You chuckled, leaning back slightly to give him a moment of reprieve. “Need anything?” you asked, feigning nonchalance as you played with the hem of your shirt.

“Pepper,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He still wasn’t looking at you directly, but the blush on his cheeks was impossible to miss.

“Pepper, huh?” you repeated with a smirk. Hopping off the counter, you made your way to the spice rack, grabbing the pepper and handing it to him with a flourish. “Anything else, Chef Sol?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he took the pepper from you. “You’re too much,” he said, but there was no malice in his tone. If anything, he sounded amused, even fond.

“Too much for you to handle?” you teased, leaning closer once more. This time, you kissed the shell of his ear, your breath warm against his skin. He shivered, his hand faltering as he almost dropped the pepper.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice somewhere between a warning and a plea. “I need to finish this.”

“Fine, fine,” you said, stepping back with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll behave. For now.”

The kitchen was filled with the comforting scent of the soup, the two of you sitting at the table, sipping from your bowls. The warmth of the meal matched the warmth between you both, and as you took a small spoonful, you couldn’t help but smile at the taste.

“This is really good,” you said, eyes bright as you looked over at Sol. He glanced up at you, a soft smile on his lips, but he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, gazing at you more than the food.

His face was still flushed, his dark eyes following your every movement. He looked so content in the moment, so at peace, and it made your heart flutter.

“You’re smiling,” you said playfully, raising an eyebrow. “I think you’re happy about my approval.”

He shifted his gaze slightly, his cheeks still rosy as he lowered his spoon. “I’m happy you like it,” he said softly, his voice just barely above a whisper. “I wanted to make it perfect for you.”

You couldn’t help but beam at him, warmth spreading through your chest. “You always go out of your way for me,” you teased, “I think that’s pretty cute.”

The words tumbled out of your mouth before you even had a chance to stop them, but they felt right. You leaned in, setting your bowl down as you placed a hand over his on the table. “You know, we should just get married,” you said with a playful smirk, tilting your head slightly. “We should just be together forever. Don’t you think?”

Sol froze for a moment, his eyes going wide, before his gaze flicked away. His cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink, and you could see his fingers twitch slightly where they rested on the table. “What… what?” he stammered, clearly flustered but not outright rejecting the idea. “W-We don’t have to—”

“No, no!” You laughed, teasing him further. “I was just joking. But, wouldn’t it be fun?” You winked, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “I can already imagine us together forever, making soup for each other, and you cooking for me every night.”

His face was so red now, his expression a mix of surprise, embarrassment, and something else—something deeper that he wasn’t quite ready to admit. “I… I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t…” His words stumbled over themselves, and you could tell he was too flustered to finish his sentence.

But, seeing him like that made you feel a warmth deep in your heart. You couldn’t help but smile more, your eyes softening as you looked at him. “You’re so cute,” you said gently, your voice full of affection. “You know that, right?”

Sol finally looked up at you, a nervous laugh escaping his lips as he tried to compose himself. “I’m not cute,” he muttered, still trying to look away, but his smile betrayed him.

“Yes, you are,” you replied, leaning in just a little closer, your voice soft and loving. “You’re ridiculously cute, Sol.”

His breath caught for a moment, his cheeks still burning with embarrassment as he finally managed to meet your gaze. “You’re the one who’s… making me feel like this,” he mumbled, shaking his head in a failed attempt to hide his smile. “I’m not used to this…”

You let out a soft laugh, feeling your heart swell with affection for him. “It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice low and soothing. “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

Sol’s blush didn’t fade, but there was a small, shy grin tugging at his lips as he looked at you. “You’re making me all mushy,” he admitted, his voice a little more tender than before.

A rush of warmth spread through your chest at his words, and you couldn’t stop the smile that broke out across your face. “I think I’m already there,” you whispered back, your heart racing as you reached over to hold his hand, feeling the softness of his skin under yours.

You thought teasing him, pushing him just a little further, might reveal that obsession lurking beneath Sol’s shy demeanor. Maybe you’d catch a glimpse of his desperation, his possessiveness—the part of him that craved you so deeply it bordered on uncontainable. Instead, what you saw was a smile.

Not just any smile. It was as bright as the sun, as if the entire weight of the world had lifted off his shoulders. His eyes shimmered, brimming with emotion, and before you could even process it, he was crying.

“You’re…” his voice cracked, trembling with overwhelming sincerity. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

His words hit you like a bolt of lightning. For a moment, your heart froze, and your yandere-like thoughts—the need to possess him, to keep him yours and only yours—shattered into something else entirely. Something soft. Something pure.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over faster than you could stop them. A choked sob escaped your throat as you lunged forward, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

“Sol…” you whimpered, burying your face into his chest as you began to cry in earnest. The tears wouldn’t stop. You were overwhelmed—by his words, his vulnerability, his love. All of it crashed into you at once, leaving you raw and open in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Hey, hey,” Sol stammered, startled by your reaction. He wrapped his arms around you instinctively, holding you close as his own tears quietly slipped down his cheeks. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” His voice was soft, full of concern, and he rubbed small circles on your back as you clung to him.

You couldn’t answer right away, too caught up in the storm of emotions swirling inside you. All you could do was clutch him tighter, sobbing into his shirt as he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

Finally, you managed to speak, your voice muffled and shaky. “I… I don’t know. I just… I’m so happy, Sol. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” he whispered, his voice firm but tender. He pulled back just enough to tilt your face up to meet his gaze, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears. His eyes were red-rimmed, but they shone with a love so pure it took your breath away. “You deserve everything, everything, and more. Don’t you dare think otherwise.”

His words made you cry harder, and he only hugged you tighter, resting his chin on top of your head as you both stayed there, locked in each other’s embrace. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your cheek, grounding you, soothing you.

“I love you,” you finally whispered, the words slipping out between quiet sobs. “I love you so much it hurts.”

“I love you too,” he murmured, his voice filled with so much raw emotion that it sent a shiver down your spine. “More than anything. You’re my everything.”

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, holding each other as your tears slowly dried….

It’s up to you to think if you want to love him.

I hope you know “Me”- me?

#sol x reader #solivan brugmansia #the kid at the back sol #the kid at the back sol x reader #the kid at the back vn #tkatb #tkatb sol #tkatb vn #tkatb x reader #tkatb smut #tkatb sol x reader #the kid at the back smut #tkatb sol smut

599 notes · View notes