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anginophobia · 1 day ago

Text

𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞

𝕊𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤: It's the same thing every day. The same dream. The same words, but you can never know who it is or who it was talking to you in your dreams.

How long before you can find your answers?

𝕋𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: smut, pinning, mentions of groping, Sol's thoughts

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 7,157

𝕊𝕠𝕝 𝕩 𝔽𝕖𝕞!ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

𝟙𝟠+ !!ℕ𝕆 𝕄𝕀ℕ𝕆ℝ𝕊!!

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: ℙ𝕃𝔼𝔸𝕊𝔼 ℝ𝔼𝔸𝔻: If I'm being honest, I have no clue how to write smut, never really done it without it sounding weird so I'm sorry if it's a bit weird to read or something. I usually try to get smut scenes from books or movies tbh. I usually write in a google docs first and didn't realize that I wrote 16 pages already from just one fanfic.

Also one of the longest fanfics I wrote.

Please, enjoy. Don't forget to leave criticism if you see fit lol. I'll defiantly need it.

You’ve been having this dream. The same dream every night you sleep. It’s nothing bad, just strange, weird, but you don’t know why you’ve been having it, but you couldn’t stop thinking about it when you wake up.

In the dream, everything is blurry, and you're laying down on the ground, the grass blades tickling your skin. There’s someone there with you, hovering over you, too close to comfort. His face was blurry, unrecognizable. You’ve never seen him before. Who is he? Was he someone you knew? You couldn’t tell. You could feel his fingers caressing your cheek gently, as if afraid he’d break you if he’d press harder. His fingers felt cold against your warm skin. Why was he so cold? When he spoke, his voice sounded muffled, like a thick mask was covering his mouth or something, but he’d always say the same sentence to you.

“Soon, Pumpkin. We will be together. Forever.”

Then, you felt soft lips on your forehead or temple, sometimes even on your chest; right over your heart. It was a strange dream, a dream you've been having for months now. No matter how hard you tried to remember who it was, you couldn't remember. It frustrated you.

You've mentioned it to Brittany one day, when she dragged you with her to go on a shopping spree. She only looked at you with a slight concerned look before shrugging it off, mumbling how weird that was. And you hadn't mentioned it since then.

Since you could only remember certain things in your dream, you started to draw your dream. Each time you drew it, it was a little different each time, drawing his hair short to long, trying to decipher the clothes he'd wear, trying to remember how his voice sounded. The drawings had helped a bit, but not enough.

You wanted to keep drawing, to try your best to remember as much as you could. And where better than the library? You held your bag’s strap on your shoulder as you walked to the library to spend your lunch there, exhausted from the day already. You hadn't had a chance to draw since this morning when you woke up.

You made your way to the library, being quiet so as to not disturb the others who were studying. You hurriedly walked to your usual spot, a table in the back corner of the library, a place you claimed when you started here at this college. Not many people are usually around the back surprisingly enough, which was perfect for you. You'd rather be away from people than be near them. As you made it to the table, you found someone already sitting in your spot. How dare he!

You huffed, annoyance invading the pit of your stomach. You didn't have time to deal with him. So, instead of asking him to move, you took the empty spot next to him, setting your bag down beside your chair after taking out your composition notebook and pencil. The guy next to you looked up from the book he was reading, raising an eyebrow in a silent question and curiosity, but didn't say anything, just watched you settle in your new temporary seat.

You opened your notebook to a blank page, grabbing your pencil to start your sketch. It was silent for the whole time you were in the library, occasionally feeling someone watching you, but it didn't deter you from what you were doing. You drew and drew, groaning softly when you didn't get something right, tearing page after page, crumpling the pages to throw away later.

When the bell ranged, signaling that lunch was over, you sighed, closing your notebook and stuffing it back in your bag before hurrying to get out of the library, not noticing how the guy with green-streaks next to you opened his mouth to say something. He watched you leave, cursing at himself softly from not saying anything earlier before you scrambled to get away. He sighed softly, leaning against the table, staring at the door you had left from.

“Soon, my darling, we shall meet soon.” He mumbled softly to himself, despite you already disappearing from him.

You made it to your art class on time, surprisingly, walking quickly to your seat by the window. You settled in your seat, leaning on your hand and looking out the window. You were feeling frustrated with yourself that you couldn't remember the dream. Whatever you sketched just felt… wrong. Like there was an invisible barrier in between you and your dream. It sucked.

As class began, you could feel someone staring at the back of your head, almost the same feeling you had in the library with the guy next to you. You turned back slightly, trying to see who it was, but unable to find who the culprit was. You tried to shake off the feeling, just turning back around and drawing circles on the desk with your index finger.

You didn't really pay attention to whatever the teacher was spewing about, you only started paying attention when some of the students were getting up from their seats and moving around. You quickly got up when one of the students needed your desk. You stood close to the back corner of the classroom, looking around. Seems like everyone has a partner.

Or almost everyone.

You saw someone sitting in the far back, a book in hand, not moving to get up. You tilted your head slightly to get a better look at him. He was the guy that had sat in your seat in the library! You watched for a moment, seeing if he was going to move. When he didn’t, nor did anyone go near him, you took the opportunity to go over to him. You held your bag’s strap tightly, mentally preparing yourself for socializing. You stopped at the empty desk, staring at him, waiting for him to notice you. For a moment, it looked like he didn’t notice you, until he looked up from his book a bit, keeping the book in his hand. He mumbled something to himself, though you couldn’t hear him, and then he spoke up.

“You seem a bit lost there.” You pushed the urge to roll your eyes at him, wanting to be at least slightly pleasant. Just slightly.

“Do you have a partner?” You asked, making yourself look bored of this “conversation”. He looked away from your gaze, and for a moment, it looked like he wouldn’t answer. You debated just leaving this poor sap to his own devices before he spoke again, still avoiding eye contact.

“... No.” His voice was low, almost as bored as you.

“Great. We’re partners.” You said, taking your seat next to him. He stiffened as you sat down, eyes slightly wider than before, surprised by your boldness to just sit next to a random student and to declare partnership without even asking him his thoughts. Not that he minded it of course, but you didn’t know or seem to care about it.

You put your notebook and pencil on the desk, opening your notebook to another blank page, though you didn’t really feel like drawing anymore, discouraged by your previous attempts at the memory game from your dream. You crossed your arms over the desk, laying your head on your arms, not even knowing what you were supposed to be doing. Great job for not listening, now you're with a complete stranger without an ounce of knowledge of what you need to do. You looked over at his paper, seeing just his name on the top right corner.

Sol. That sounds like a name you’ve heard, but where have you heard it? Not even able to remember where you’ve heard that name, you sat up again, making the guy, Sol, flinch slightly. You looked at him, your head in your head, leaning on the desk. He looked a bit scared, but for what? You had no idea. Maybe he was a scardy cat. It seems fitting for him.

“So… Sol, right?” You asked, even though you already knew his name. His red orange eyes seemed to light up from your question, almost like he was getting excited that you knew his name.

“You… know who I am?” He asked cautiously and slowly, like it was hard for him to even get the words out. You pointed to his paper, pointing out that he had just written the answer to my question.

“I just read your name, since you’ve written it.” You answered, seeing his expression falter from the realization.

“Oh… right. Yes, I’m Solivan Brugmansia, but I prefer Sol.” He explains, looking back at you again, his expression back to the nonchalant stoic look. Must be his signature look. You nodded, fidgeting with your pencil.

“Right, Sol. To be totally transparent, I have no clue what we—” You waved a hand in between you and him. “—are supposed to be doing.” He raised an eyebrow at you, seemingly not impressed by your lack of social awareness.

“Why not? The teacher explained it a few times.” He retorted back, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning on his desk. You looked away from him, lightly tapping your pencil on the desk.

“I… wasn't really paying attention.” You said softly so only he could hear, not that anyone was even listening. He tried to hide the small smirk that was trying to appear, grabbing his sketchbook and pencil instead.

“Our project is about expressionism.—” He pointed to your face, seeing your slightly tired and bored expression. “—Like the expression you're making now. It's so cute.” He mumbled the last part to himself, but you heard it. The corners of your mouth quirked up slightly, trying to hide the smirk that threatened to appear. You raised an eyebrow at him, leaning slightly closer to him. He leaned slightly back, trying to create a bit of distance.

“You think my face is cute?” You asked soft enough to make him nervous again, tilting your head just enough to make his face burn hot. He looked away quickly, covering half of his face with his sketchbook to hide his reddening face.

“I-I was talking about the look or.. expression you had, but… your face is c-cute too…” He stuttered out, his grip on his sketchbook tightened slightly. Your eyes tracked the movement, looking at how he was holding it tightly like his life depended on it. You didn’t question it, but it made you feel weird, but not enough to find it strange. He’s not doing anything wrong, right?

You turned away from him, picking up your pencil to start drawing him. “I’ll draw you first, you can pose however you want to.” You said, grabbing your notebook from the desk to hold it to draw better. He opened his mouth to interject, but the look you gave him made him shut his mouth and set his sketchbook down, letting you win the “argument.” He crossed his arms over his chest, sitting slightly slouched, sitting surprisingly very still. You started sketching him, your eyes looking at your work, occasionally glancing back at him, making sure you were drawing the lines correctly and having the right amount of shading.

Sol looked… handsome. His hair looked messy and also well put? Like he tried to make it look good but then gave up halfway but still somehow ended up good. He had dark circles under his eyes that made him look mysterious, and also sleep deprived. Does he ever sleep? He had two black piercings on one side of his lips, the light shining on them dimly, making it look like he had a slight pout. He was cute, but it's not like you'd admit it to him, he was a stranger to you. At least that's what you thought. But you did like his aesthetic, you should ask him after where he gets his clothes.

He felt his face heat up from your wandering eyes, turning his head to the side in hope that he could hide his reddening face from you. You chuckled softly from his slight embarrassment, finding it cute. He really was cute.

“Is something the matter?” You asked, raising an eyebrow and looking back at his portrait, close to being halfways done by now. You heard him clear his throat, shifting slightly in his seat. God, he felt like he was burning on the inside. Why did you have to stare at him like that? Didn't you know what it did to him?

“I just… I'm not used to having someone stare at me… like that.” He finally said, his voice softer than it had been before. You hummed softly in response, doing a few touches on his hair.

“It's not always a bad thing when someone looks at you. Maybe I was just admiring the way you look.” You said, not sparing a glance at him as you continued your sketch. He blinked, his composure faltering slightly by your words. He swallowed hard before speaking, still trying to figure out if what you said was real or just in his head.

“You were… admiring me?” He asked gently, too softly, like if he spoke any louder, the world might shatter around him, taking you with the world. Your hand halted it's sketching long enough to look up at him, the side of your mouth twitching slightly to hold back a smirk. You stared at him for a moment longer before looking back at the sketch, but not moving to continue.

Finally, you spoke after what felt like an eternity to Sol. “Who wouldn't? Your style is cool and your face.. Well, it's cute. And your eyes…”

“My eyes?” He asked softly, his arms over his chest slowly lowering as you continued. You looked at him again, fully putting your notebook down, giving him your full attention.

“They're beautiful, Sol. I don't think I've met someone with your kind of eyes. And those dark coloring under your eyes make them even more mesmerizing.” You said, your voice sincere and light, the corner of your mouth lifting slightly in a somewhat smile. His heart felt like it could explode in his chest by your compliment on his eyes. Slowly, he raised a hand to his face, his fingertips touching his eye bags, right under his red orange eyes. No one had ever complimented his eyes, if they did, they never sounded sincere to him. He stared at you, unable to look away.

You looked away before you could notice the way his eyes softened, the way his hand gripped his shirt over his heart, the way his white pupils were dilated slightly and were heart-shaped.

“You have the most beautiful eyes too, my darling.” He whispered softly, too softly for you to hear him, preoccupied with trying to finish his portrait.

The rest of the class was quiet, neither of us saying anything as I tried to finish. When class was over, Sol tried to have a peek at your work, only for you to poke his forehead back with your finger, pushing him slightly back away from looking. He huffed but let it be until next time. Out in the hall, you both exchanged numbers, for the project, of course. You waved goodbye and went on your way to go home, back to your dingy apartment—alone.

While walking back, the streets grow darker each fifty steps you took. You could feel a pair of eyes on you, watching you. It made you feel uncomfortable to the point where you started to walk faster, hoping to get home before anything bad could happen.

You made it back to your apartment in one piece, shutting the door hard behind you and locking the bolt, surprised that it had worked this time. Hopefully it won't get stuck like last time.

You made your way through your apartment, dropping your bag down by the couch with a sigh, heading to your bedroom. You checked the time on your nightstand; 5:34 at night. You sighed, grabbing a few clothes to take a nice long hot bath, something you deserved after a long taxing day. You stripped off your clothes as you walked to your bathroom, closing the door behind you, turning on the hot water on and letting the water rise in the tub a little more than halfway before getting in and sighing softly as the water hit your skin. It felt nice. So very nice. So nice that after only thirty minutes in the tub, you started to fall asleep in the tub. It wouldn't hurt to rest your eyes, would it?

While you were resting your eyes in the tub, unbenounced to you, someone was in your apartment, climbing slowly into your bedroom, the lock broken for a while now that you hadn't even noticed.

Sol was wearing all black, pulling his mask down long enough to breathe the scent of your room, shuddering softly from the smell, delighting in your floral and citrusy, almost like lemon and what… daisy? Or maybe Roses? He couldn't tell, he'll need to see your perfumes so he could buy some. He would just yours if he could, but then you'd be upset if you thought you lost it. He didn't like that thought.

Slowly, he walked out of your bedroom, making sure that you weren't coming out of the bathroom any time soon. He went into the hallway of your small apartment, already halfway in the kitchen and living room at the same time. He stepped into the kitchen, carefully opening the fridge, checking to see if he could find anything. Finding a half empty gallon of milk, he decided to use that. Either that or water from the tap.

He grabbed the gallon of milk from the fridge, setting it softly on the counter and opening the lid. He reached into his pocket, taking out a small bag of crushed up sleeping pills, given by his best friend Hyugo. This was nothing new for Sol. He did this almost every night when he didn't have his “work.” It always excited him seeing you asleep with him near, unaware of him watching you, how he'd stroke your hair softly and nibble on your neck, and completely unaware of how he'd sometimes use your hand to stroke himself till he finished or how whimper to the feeling of your breasts in his hands as he dried humped you into oblivion as you slept. He wondered where Hyugo had gotten pills strong enough for me to be kept asleep through all that.

He poured the powder in the milk, pouring half of it instead of all of it this time, closing the lid of the milk and shaking it just enough to mix the drug and milk, putting it back in the fridge. He decided to look around, he had time, right?

He slowly walked in the living room, looking around at the pictures you've hung up and the books you've placed carefully on your bookshelves. In all the times that he has been in your apartment, he has never been in your living room, mostly in your bedroom or kitchen. He took in your old couch, your TV that seemed slightly too small, the color of your walls. He liked it. He could see himself here all the time, being with you, watching TV with you, cuddling on the couch, just anything to be near you. He heard a soft click of a door opening, and in a panic he fell onto the floor, hidden by the couch. He peeked over the corner of the couch, seeing you in nothing but a towel that hugged your body very well. Too well. He swallowed hard as you walked into the kitchen, running your fingers in your semi wet hair.

He watched you open the fridge and take out the milk, assuming that you were getting a glass of milk. As much as he wanted to stay, now was the time to go while you were distracted. He moved slowly, crawling on the floor to your bedroom, making sure you didn't notice him. Once in your bedroom, he quickly got up from the floor, already heading to the window, but then he heard your soft footsteps, heading towards your bedroom. He looked around, his heart racing in a panic, trying to find a place.

His eyes landed on your closet and he scrambled to get there on time, opening it just enough to slide in and sit in the dark, closing the door softly and sitting in the far corner so he wouldn't be spotted. He looked through the little horizontal holes in the closet door, watching, waiting.

Finally, he spotted you walking in your room, holding a glass half filled of milk, hearing your soft sigh, exhausted by the day. He watched you place the milk on your nightstand and take off your towel, tossing it on your bed for a second as you looked in your drawer. He gasped softly, unable to believe that he was watching you strip!

Of course, he has seen you without clothes before, usually either without a shirt or pants, but fully? Only in his wet dreams. He swallowed again, his eyes roaming over your body, at least of what he could see. He felt his pants tightening nonetheless. Your closet smelled of you, it was almost too much for him.

He watched you put on clean underwear, they looked to be a pastel green with a small tiny darker green bow just on the panty waistband. Green. His favorite color. He bit his bottom lip at the sight, imagining all sorts of things he shouldn't be. Not when you barely knew him for a day! But he has known you for what felt like years. It was years.

He leaned back against the wall, placing a hand over his mouth as you made your way over to the closet, opening it and tossing your used towel in the towel—right on his head, the towel covering his face. He didn't make a sound as you grabbed a shirt from your closet and closed it, unaware of the peeping tom in your closet.

He stayed quiet, listening, hearing your soft footsteps, the sound of the light turning off, the sound of you climbing into bed. He waited, his heart pounding in his chest. After what felt like hours, it was really only ten minutes, he raised his hand and took off the towel from his head, bringing it to his nose, and inhaling. Oh God, your smell was addicting.

He shuddered softly, closing his eyes and inhaling the smell of the towel again. The towel was still slightly wet and warm from your body heat. He loved it. He groaned softly in the towel, his hand grabbing the end of the towel and started to rub it against his hard bulge in his pants, unable to take the tightness of his pants.

His thoughts of you filled his mind as he leaned his head back on the wall, groaning softly into the towel, biting down so he wouldn't be too loud. He thought of his hands on your chest, the feeling of your nipples hardening in between his fingers, squeezing enough to make you moan in painful pleasure. He thought about his fingers going down in between your thighs, feeling your wetness and moving his fingers along your folds before slipping them inside you, hearing you moan for him.

He rubbed the towel faster, moving his hips slowly, humping the towel through his jeans, imagining it was you. He felt hot in his clothes, his breathing becoming ragged in the towel, biting down hard enough to hurt his spider bites.

His bangs clung to the sweat of his forehead that was starting to form, his cock aching in his pants. He wanted more, needed more. He rubbed the towel faster on his bulge, inhaling the towel scent again, whimpering softly into it. He was close, so very close, and his imagination wasn't helping him. His hips moved against the towel more, chasing his release.

He opened his eyes long enough to slightly look through the closet holes, to faintly see your body on your bed, sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of his presence in your closet, rubbing himself on your used towel. Seeing you sleeping and unaware did something to him, like it always did. He groaned again in the towel, his pants suddenly feeling warmer.

He panted softly, catching his breath from the intense sensation of his cum in his pants. It wasn't the first and he knew it wouldn't be the last. He used the towel to try to clean his mess in his pants, at least the outside of it.

He tossed the towel aside, contaminated by his own fluid and opened the closet door slightly, making sure everything was quiet before crawling out, slowly getting up from his hands and knees. He slowly tiptoed to the window, staying quiet. As he reached the window, he couldn't help but steal another glance at you. Oh, how beautiful you looked as you slept, the blankets half on you and half off your body, sleeping on your side facing him.

He knew it was a risk, but he couldn't help himself. He was completely wrapped around your finger without you knowing. He cursed himself softly before stepping closer, kneeling down on his knees next to your bed, placing a hand softly on your bed, next to your face. His eyes scanned your sleeping expression, his lips parted slightly, his eyes darting from your closet eyes, your nose, then your lips. One kiss wouldn't hurt, right?

He licked his lips, cupping your face ever so gently and slowly leaning in, closing his eyes. His lips brushed against yours softly, as if afraid that he'd hurt you from a simple kiss to the lips. He pressed his lips slightly more on yours, relishing in the soft kiss. His hand from your face slowly moved down, his fingertips touching your jawline lightly. He moved his lips down, kissing your chin softly. He couldn't stop even though he should, but he didn't want to.

You hummed softly, feeling someone kiss you in your dreams. It was enough to wake you. You opened your eyes slowly, still groggy, but clearly seeing a figure in front of you. That alerted you. You jolted up, a scream leaving your throat as you tried to move away from the sudden person that was kissing you. Before your scream could even end, Sol grabbed your wrist and used his other hand to cover your mouth, scattering to make you stop screaming, and his sudden movement to get on top of you didn't help.

You screamed in his hand, your eyes wide as they adjusted to the darkness, finding Sol shushing you softly, panic in his red orange eyes.

“Shh, it's ok, please stop screaming.” He whispered to you, panic laced in his voice, panting softly from adrenaline and the rush of being caught by you. Your heart was racing in your chest, your eyes locked onto his, unable to look away. “I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to scare you.” He continued, his face apologetic and tone filled with guilt, but he didn't move to get off you. He swallowed hard, trying to control his uneven breathing.

“If I let go of your mouth, will you promise to not scream?” He asked softly, hoping you wouldn't scream at him again. You made no move to show that you wouldn't scream, but you averted your gaze from his, clearly thinking over his hopeful question. You looked back at him and nodded.

Slowly, he removed his hand from your mouth, his hand slightly shaky. He waited for you to scream, to do anything. But you didn't. You were just breathing softly, your eyes still wide from confusion and maybe irritation. Sol couldn't tell. He didn't move to get off you, but he let go of your wrist, staring down at you, mesmerizing you, the feeling of you under him.

“Sol… how did you get in?” You asked softly, finally speaking to him. You remembered locking the bolt door when you came home that evening, and there wasn't any other way to get in. Not that you knew of.

“The… window.” He replied softly, raising a hand and pointed to the window with the broken latch. You blinked, surprised that your window was broken. “How?” You asked. Such a simple question, right? Not for Sol. He swallowed hard before answering.

“I… broke it. A while ago.”

“Why?”

“To get in… since you lock your door sometimes.”

You were stunned by how honest his answers were, they left you speechless even. Sol wouldn't lie to you, he never would and never will.

“Why did you do that, Sol?” You asked softly, afraid of the answer. He didn't hesitate when he answered, almost eager to answer your questions.

“Because I love you, and I can't help myself… I wanted to be near you, to be with you. I love you, pumpkin.”

You blinked, registering the nickname he called you. The same nickname that had been torturing you in your dreams. “... What?” You asked, your voice soft, too soft.

“I love you-”

“Not that. What did you call me?” You interrupted him, not registering that he just confessed he loved you, but solely focusing on the nickname. His brows furrowed slightly from your interruption.

“Pumpkin..?” He said, almost like a question rather than a statement. Pumpkin. Yes, indeed the same nickname in your dreams.

“Sol… how long have you been… visiting me at night?” You asked, needing to know, desperate for the answer.

“A while. Months. So long.” It was… almost an answer. But it was an answer enough for you. The dream you've been having for months. It was his fault. Sol’s fault. Whispering to you in your sleep that you'll be together forever with him. But you didn't know him, or at least you didn't think you did.

“Who are you?”

“Your soulmate.”

Sol didn't hesitate when answering, almost like he had been practicing that response. Your eyes narrowed on him, thinking over his response. Was he dense? Convinced that you were meant to be his? Where was the chapter you missed in finding a soulmate?

“I don't know you-”

“Oh, but you do. You know me.” Sol grabbed your hand gently and placed it on his chest, over his heart, his eyes bright in the dark. “You know me, you just… you just forgot, that's all. It has been a while since we last spoke.” He continued, his voice filled with hope. Your brows furrowed at his response, clearly not convinced.

He continued.

“The first time we met was special to me. We had the same class together, our first semester of English class, creative writing to be exact. We had to write about what we wanted for the future. It was just us two in the class, everyone had gone off to lunch. You came up to me and asked me if I figured out what I wanted.”

His grip on your hand tightened slightly, his face slightly closer than before to yours. He continued.

“I said no, I didn't know what I wanted to do with my future. And then you took my paper and pen, writing something down. Do you remember what you wrote?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. You shook your head, unable to answer his question. He smiled sadly but continued anyway.

“‘One day, Sol and I will be married.’ Married. You looked at me with such a cute and wide smile, I thought my heart stopped completely. You looked so beautiful then, and you're so beautiful now.” He let go of your hand and cupped your face with both of his hands, his eyes pleading with yours. “Do you remember?” He asked softly again, hoping that you would remember.

You swallowed, trying your best to remember. You sorta remember something of the sort. All you really remember was helping someone out with a paper that was blank. Was it Sol? It could've been, but to be honest, you were busy your first year at the college, everything was a blur. But you did remember those eyes in your dreams and in the past.

“Your eyes. I remember your eyes.” You finally responded. Sol let out a sigh of relief, at least you remembered something from the past. Without a warning, he closed the gap in between you, his lips crashing into yours. You stiffened under him, not expecting that. His lips moved against yours slightly, unable to help himself. When he pulled away, he looked at you, adoration in his eyes. He looked… lovesick.

“I love you. So very much, and you even remembering my eyes means so much to me. We were meant to be, we are soulmates, even in your dreams.” You blinked at his words, taken aback by his knowledge about the dreams.

“How did you..?” You faltered, unable to finish your sentence. He just chuckled softly, kissing the corner of your mouth gently.

“Did you know you talk in your sleep?” He whispered softly to you, his nose grazing your cheek. You felt your face get hot, clearly not knowing that information about yourself. “And those lovely drawings you never finish, I'm flattered you tried to draw me.” He pulled away enough to see your expression, unable to hide the pleasure he got from seeing how shocked you were.

“You looked through my notebook?” He nodded, clearly pleased with himself.

“We are perfect together. We draw each other, dream about each other. We need each other.” He said softly, his thumb grazing your cheek softly, slowly moving down to your lips, feeling the softness of them.

“Please… let me love you. Let me show you that we were made for each other.” He pleaded softly, looking at you expectantly. You stared at him in disbelief. That is crazy! Who would be crazy enough to let someone love you to prove that you were soulmates?

Well, you just might be. You did dream about the fucker. His words, his touch, maybe this was a dream as well. What could hurt?

You leaned in, kissing him softly, your eyes closed as you kissed him. He instantly melted into your kiss, cupping your face and deepening the kiss, his lips moving against yours. You placed your hands on his chest, feeling his heart racing hard against his chest.

You tilted your head to the side, opening your mouth for him, your arms moving to wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss. He groaned in your mouth, his hands starting to roam your body, from your chest to your sides down to your thighs. He lifted you slightly so that he was sitting up on your bed, and you were on his lap now. His hands were warm on your exposed thighs, squeezing just enough to make you whimper softly against his lips. He pulled his mouth away from yours, trailing soft yet desperate kisses down your jaw to your neck, almost like a starved man in desperate need of you in his hands and in between his teeth.

You leaned your head back, accepting this, despite only knowing him for half a day, and yet it sorta felt like you knew him for a while in a way. Like your body knew his touch yet your mind didn't. His hands moved from your thighs, his fingertips going under your shirt, as if silently asking for permission. Not like he needed it, he had already felt your body in his hands, but it was only polite.

In a silent response, you moved your hands, allowing yourself to take off your shirt, tossing it aside, almost completely naked, saved for your pastel green underwear. Sol’s pants felt tight, too tight. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close enough to him that he captured one of your breasts in his mouth, his tongue swirling around your peaked nipple. You let out a soft moan, your fingers digging into his hair. You could feel his bulge pressing against you in between your legs, feeling his need.

One of his hands was on your lower back, the other on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him, desperate for your touch, your warmth. He couldn't get enough. He wanted more. He let go of your nipple with a soft wet sound, the hard peak wet from his saliva as his mouth found its way to your neck, his teeth biting down on your neck, earning a muffled whimper from you.

“You're so warm.” He mumbled softly against your neck, one hand moving downwards, his fingers slipping past the waistband of your panties. He needed to feel you. He couldn't stand not touching you. His fingers rubbed against your folds, feeling the wetness that was already growing there. You gasped, only for it to be muffled by Sol’s lips, kissing you deeply as his fingers rubbed your clit, swallowing your moans and whimpers.

“So wet.”

His middle finger slipped inside you, making you gasp softly against his lips. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards from the sound, encouraging him to continue. Slowly, he pulled his finger in and out of you, hearing the soft moans you were letting out. He added another finger, slowly stretching your cunt out in an almost loving way.

“So tight.”

You moaned as his fingers curled inside you, curling just at the right spot. You couldn't take it anymore. With the use of your hands, you pushed him down onto your bed, straddling him, his fingers still inside you but they stopped, making you pant softly from them. You looked down at him, unable to take it anymore. You needed him.

You started moving against his fingers, starting to ride his fingers with purpose, unable to stop yourself. He groaned softly, watching you move on him, using his fingers to get off. You were getting close, too close. You needed him. Desperately.

You grabbed his wrist, pulling enough to take his fingers out of you, your wetness dripping off his fingers and into the palm of his hand. You unfastened his belt, not wanting to slow down or stop. That was until he spoke up.

“P-please be gentle! I-I haven't…” he stopped himself, making you stop and look at him, panting heavily, staring at him, waiting for him to continue. He didn't, his cheeks flushed and red, his eyes not looking into yours.

“You haven't what?” You asked finally, breathless. He didn't know if he should continue, not sure on how'd you'd react. He swallowed before looking at you, embarrassment on his face.

“I haven't.. done this before.” He whispered, almost too soft for you to hear. But you heard it. You blinked.

“What?”

The tip of his ears were pink, his face hot as he looked up at me, his face mixed with embarrassment and seriousness. “I have never.. done this. Sex.” He repeated, his heart racing in his chest.

“You're a virgin?” You asked without thinking. He nodded, averting his gaze from yours, not wanting to see any disappointment in your eyes. But there wasn't. To be honest, it sorta made things more… special? You didn't know, but it made you feel something.

“Is that… a bad thing?” He asked softly, meeting your gaze once more. You leaned down and kissed him softly, your hand unzipping his pants. He gasped softly, feeling your fingers go into his pants, touching his boxers.

“No, it's ok. I'll be gentle.” You said softly, your fingers going into his boxers, touching his hard length. He groaned from the feeling of your hand on his cock, wanting more.

He helped you slide his pants off, his cock springing free from his pants and boxers. The size of him was… impressive. It makes your mouth dry up from the thought.

“Does it… look bad?” He asked, worried that it wasn't to your liking. You shook your head, your hand wrapping around his length, earning a soft hiss from him.

“It looks… delicious.” You whispered to him, kissing his lips softly as you moved your underwear to the side enough to rub the tip in your wet folds, your tongue prying his mouth open, your tongue swirling around his.

You positioned yourself on him before lowering yourself, hearing him gasping against your mouth, his hands gripping your hips like his life depended on it, feeling your walls slowly engulfing around him. He couldn't help it as his hips rolled up into you slightly, needing to feel all of you. You moaned, placing your hands on his sides to make him stop moving his hips.

He whined softly in protest, looking up at you with desperate eyes. You waited, sitting fully on him. It was his first time, so you'll need to be gentle and slow at first.

You started moving on him, your hands moving to his chest, gripping his shirt he was still wearing. He whimpered, his fingers digging into your hips, helping you slowly lift up and back down on him. You moved like that, hearing his soft whimpers. He moved his hips occasionally, urging and pleading for you to go faster, to move on his harder. He sat up slightly, his mouth finding your chest, kissing and sucking gently, his hands moving to your sides.

“P-please, pumpkin… use me, take whatever you desire from me—nnnh..–please..” He pleaded, looking up at you with those red orange eyes, like how a puppy looks at its owner. It was too much. How could you deny someone's begging when they're so cute?

You started moving faster, wrapping your arms around his neck, rolling your hips in a way that made him moan loud, burying his face in your neck to silence himself. His hands gripped your back and skin, pulling you closer onto him, making himself go deeper.

It felt like bliss, the way he moved inside you, how he gripped you like you were his lifeline, groaning and whimpering, muttering words of pleas to love him and to never leave him, not like you were listening, too wrapped up in the feeling of his cock twitching in you deep.

It felt great, too great. For both of you. The air mixed with sweat and whispers of Sol’s love confession and moans.

Even after the heated air cooled down, with Sol in your arms, limbs wrapped with limbs. You still didn't understand what convinced Sol that you were made for each other, or even why he started being in your dreams. But a part of you hopes that it won't end.

Maybe that's the sickening part of you saying that.