Sol aka Solivan Brugmansia is definitely crazy clearly…Anyways here’s the headcanons
Headcanons 🎃:
Would have Good Hygiene to Impress You
Definitely bought the same shampoo, conditioner, soaps all the lotions and potions that You have (courtesy of him breaking and entering your apartment) in order to smell like You and feel “close” to You
Would NOT want kids with You and even if Sol and You ended up having kids (only because You wanted to have kids) it’s likely Sol would be jealous of the child if they end up stealing most of Your attention/time
Definitely stalked your Socials, and checks your socials atleast every hour
Memorized your social media usernames in order to find you on every platform ex: facebook, instagram, twitter.
Speaking of Facebook, Sol has definitely stalked your Facebook Page in order to find out your birthday and would stalk your family through Facebook in order to learn more about you. That old Facebook post from Christmas 5 years that your aunt or some other relative has up with the caption “Christmas with the family😇”yeah Sol definitely screenshotted that, printed it out and drew a red around your Face…
Has asked Hyugo to secretly take photos of you and send it to him (so he can goon to you LOLZ)
Has a Shrine or room dedicated to You, some stuff in it could include that Pencil you accidentally dropped the other day from your bag or maybe a pair of underwear he stole from your apartment anything that you’ve interacted with or used or even ate yeahhh already in his pocket so he can bring it back to his shrine/room dedicated to you…
Has atleast dyed his hair the wrong shade of green before
Some of the piercings he has were done unprofessionally by himself like his ear lobes and cartilages but the more complicated ones like his nipple piercings were professionally done.
Random but would definitely be one of antishein and antitemu advocates
If you and Sol went on a shopping date he would spoil you and offer to pay for everything in order to make you feel bad and feel like you owe him but also you being happy makes him happy and he loves spending time with you
Just the smell of you would make him go crazy, has deliberately walked behind you in order to take a big sniff out of you (without your knowledge) similar to Hannibal smelling Will in that one clip for any Hannibal Fans
Would be extremely nervous if you ever introduced him to your Dad of course he could just kill your Dad but that would make you upset. Sol would be an absolute mess when the time comes for him to meet your Dad.
The type to be nonchalant around everyone but you very corny but I said it!
Would make you lunch everyday if you asked him too
Would also be the type to do your homework if you asked… assuming Sol gets his own homework done but even if he doesn’t he would still do your homework. That lab report you have due in your Chemistry Class? Just explain the lab to him and it’s done. That book Report your Professor assigned to you? Sol Already read the book so just let him do the report with you, plus it’d be a good excuse to maybe spend some time with you in the library or even your apartment.
Sol definitely acts weak on purpose and let’s himself get beatup like in that scene in the Library with the Bullies because if he showed his true potential those Bullies would have been dead in that library at the very moment they decided to corner him.
On A Darker Note Sol is the emotionally abusive and manipulative type, rather than being physically abusive he would use negative reinforcement in order to get what he wants from you plus he would gaslight you crazy. ONLY HE CAN manipulate his pumpkin
Dreams of you in his sleep and his nightmares include visions of you leaving him or worse you with that Ichabod
Any mentions of Crowe and he physically tenses up, like he’s fighting the urge to gag. Trigger Warning for Crowe, it’s like a slur to him
𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: hyugo x gn! reader x sol · established relationship w/sol · smut · threesome · implied afab! reader · reader with curves · restraint vs. indulgence · shameless hunger · quiet seduction · push/pull dynamics · explicit content · possessiveness · jealousy · emotional confession · voyeurism · auditory kink · praise · dirty talk · power dynamics · polyamory negotiations · rough sex · tender sex · multiple orgasms · overstimulation
𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: A late-night gaming session with Sol and Hyugo takes a turn you never expected. One too many teasing comments, one reckless Discord slip from long ago—leaving you caught between laughing it off and giving in. Hyugo stays silent, but his quiet isn’t innocence.
And in the end, when silence isn’t enough and words can’t save him, Hyugo has no choice but to give in completely…
…and insert himself into you.
𝓌𝒸: 13k
There’s just something about video games that assurance chaos.
You swear it every time.
One second, you’re telling yourself, “just a quick match, one round, nothing serious,” and the next thing you know, you’re screaming at your homeboy and your boyfriend for cheating, crumbs of stale chips sliding down your shirt like confetti at a pity parade. Controllers flying, egos bruised, and suddenly a “casual game night” looks like televised war.
For you, Sol, and Hyugo—the two losers you’d wasted most of college with—gaming wasn’t some once-in-a-while bonding activity. No, it was the lifestyle. The religion. The rooftop hangout when classes were boring, the between-class distraction, the after-class cooldown… hell, sometimes the “skip-class-entirely” plan.
If you weren’t roasting each other through headsets online, you were piled in the same room, yelling at the TV like it personally committed treason.
And tonight?
The battlefield was Hyugo’s apartment. Again.
At this point, his place had graduated from “apartment” to full-on headquarters: spacious enough for bodies to crash on the floor, stacked with enough consoles to make a gamer jealous, and always stocked with snacks that tasted better just because they weren’t yours. Cozy wasn’t the word. It was the kind of place that swallowed hours whole, the clock jumping from 8 p.m. to 3 a.m. in a blink.
Shoes were already piled at the door, jackets draped carelessly over the couch, soda cans littering the coffee table. The TV’s glow bathed everything in neon light, reflecting off the mess of controllers and half-buzzing phones.
If someone peeked in from the outside, they’d think it was a chaotic game night with the level of screaming, accusations, and dramatics. But nah—this was way bloodier: a free-for-all tournament.
Hyugo was in first place, smug as ever, the human embodiment of “untouchable.” You were steady in second—your self-proclaimed throne, where you liked to chill and collect wins without sweating too hard.
And Sol? Dead last. As per usual.
Which meant Hyugo and Sol were barking at each other like rival dogs fighting over scraps.
Meanwhile, you? You were just vibing. Snacking, crunching loud enough to annoy both of them, watching their dramatics like you paid for front-row seats to a comedy special. Second place didn’t even bother you—you’d mastered the art of staying quiet.
Hyugo had his legs spread wide across the couch like he owned it, leaning back with one arm draped lazily over the cushion and the other casually flicking his joystick. His smirk looked carved in stone, the kind of grin that screamed ‘I don’t even have to try to beat you.’ Every little button-press was punctuated with a satisfied hum, as though he’d choreographed this victory hours ago.
Across from him, Sol was not taking it well.
He was sitting on the floor, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, death-gripping his controller like he was trying to strangle it into submission. Display the clear red flush creeping up his ears. His voice cracked loud enough to rattle the soda cans when Hyugo’s character landed another cheap shot.
“Bro, that was rigged!” Sol yelled, his tone already a perfect mix of betrayal and emo desperation. “You don’t even know how to do that move. You button-mashed—don’t even lie.”
Hyugo tilted his head, cool as ever, eyes still locked on the screen. “Button-mash? Please. That was pure skill. Watch and learn, junior.” He tossed in a lazy shrug for emphasis, like the kill he just landed was a happy accident he’d barely noticed.
You snorted around a mouthful of chips. “Junior? Sol’s literally older than you.”
Hyugo’s grin stretched wider. “Age doesn’t matter when you’re built different.” He tapped his chest with his thumb, as if to say: this is natural-born talent, baby.
“Built different?” Sol’s voice cracked higher, and he threw his controller down onto the carpet with a dramatic thud. “You’re built annoying. That’s it. Nobody’s born with ‘god-tier gamer genetics,’ Hyugo, shut up.”
“Sounds like something a loser would say,” Hyugo fired back instantly, finally glancing over just long enough to give Sol a slow, smug once-over. He even raised his brows like really? that’s the best you got?
Sol grabbed a throw pillow and hurled it straight at him. Hyugo caught it one-handed without looking, set it aside neatly, then went right back to the game.
You nearly choked laughing. “Oh my god, you two are like divorced parents fighting over custody of the console.”
Hyugo leaned back further, smugness practically glowing off him. “Correction: I already won custody. Sol just gets visitation rights.”
Sol groaned so loud it sounded like a dying animal, collapsing backward onto the rug and covering his face with both hands. “I hate it here.”
Hyugo’s grin was pure evil, teeth flashing as he stretched out even more on the couch like he’d just dropped the funniest truth bomb in the room. “You know Sol’s just letting you win, right? Man’s whipped—his pumpkin got him trained by the sound of your voice.”
Sol’s jaw snapped tight.
You could practically see his vein pulsing, his controller forgotten as his whole soul prepared to clap back.
But you didn’t give him the chance.
You barked out a laugh, wiped chip dust off your hands, and locked eyes with him. “You better not have been letting me win this whole time.”
His eyes went wide, like you’d just betrayed him in the middle of battle. “What?! No! Don’t look at me like that—this clown’s lying!” He shot a finger at Hyugo, who only grinned wider and gave a lazy little shrug, as if to say caught ya, buddy.
“Mmhm,” you hummed, narrowing your eyes with mock suspicion. “Because if you’ve been throwing games out of pity, that makes you the clown.”
“Pity?! Pumpkin, I’d never—” Sol scrambled up to sit properly, dark hair falling into his face as he gestured wildly with his hands, voice cracking like a kettle boiling over. “I don’t take it easy on anyone. You know how many times I’ve smoked Hyugo in ranked? Ask him!”
“Cap,” Hyugo muttered, still lounging like a smug cat in a sunbeam.
“Not cap!” Sol whipped around, eyes wide, “Tell them! Tell them I—”
“Oh, nah,” Hyugo cut in, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Not my business, bro. You already dug the hole. Don’t drag me into your simp grave.”
You snorted so hard you almost choked on air, watching Sol’s face burn with indignation as he whirled back to you.
“I’m not—! This is insane. You believe him over me?!”
You tilted your head, lips twitching. “I dunno… Hyugo does look confident. Kinda sus, Sol.”
Sol looked two seconds away from combusting, fists clenching in his lap. “Confident?! He’s confident because he’s a professional troll! That’s all he’s got going for him!”
Hyugo let out a lazy chuckle, finally glancing your way. “Hey, if it works, it works.” He winked. “Besides, if Sol is losing on purpose, maybe it’s just instinct. You say ‘jump,’ he says ‘how high.’ Classic pumpkin behavior.”
“Stop calling me that!” Sol groaned, tossing another pillow his way. Hyugo dodged it with a smug stretch of his arm, shooting you a quick side glance like he’d just scored another kill without lifting a finger.
You pressed your palm to your forehead, torn between laughing harder and defending yourself. “God, I hate you both. Why do I even hang out with clowns like you?”
Hyugo’s grin sharpened. “Because we make your nights interesting.”
Sol threw his hands in the air. “Alright bro, I’m fighting for my life here and you’re just feeding his ego!”
You leaned back, stretching languidly across the couch as Sol huffed beside you, still glaring at Hyugo like he might explode if anyone blinked the wrong way. “Hey,” you murmured, voice softening, tilting your head toward him. “Don’t get so worked up. It’s… cute, but seriously, breathe.”
Sol blinked at you, still defensive, but your hand casually brushed his shoulder. Lazy, teasing, just enough to make him pause. You leaned a little closer, your arm draping lazily over his back as you whispered, “You know… if you calm down, I’ll maybe let you do the thing on me.”
His jaw slackened, a flush red appears. “Wait—what? Are you… serious?”
You smirked, shrugging like it was no big deal, letting your hair fall over your shoulder in a careless sweep. “Depends. You can calm down first, or we’ll just laugh at you while you stew. Your choice, babe.”
Sol groaned, letting a shaky laugh escape despite himself. “Ugh… fine, I’ll… I’ll chill. But this doesn’t erase—”
“Shh,” you whispered, leaning your forehead briefly against his shoulder, fingers lingering at the edge of his shirt. “Just relax. I got ya’.”
Nearby, Hyugo froze mid-gesture, controller hovering uselessly in his hands. Cheeks flushed, chest tightening, and suddenly the grin that usually kept him untouchable felt brittle.
And that’s when the twist hit him like a punch to the gut.
He was supposed to be smug, supposed to be part of the chaos—but here you were, leaning into Sol, whispering, smirking, fingers grazing, and the way he laughed at your teasing like you were some effortless magician conjuring obedience…
Wait… why am I feeling left out?
Because that’s exactly what he was: The Constant Third Wheel. Always had been, probably always would be.
You and Sol had this… magnetic pull, the kind of energy that made him both laugh and groan simultaneously.
You were the mischief-maker, dragging them into pranks, setting up traps for professors or random strangers on campus. Sol, of course, couldn’t resist taking the bait—jumping, shouting, throwing hands when things escalated, getting into fights over stupid pretty shit or arcade bragging rights.
And Hyugo?
He was supposed to be the “balance” of it all. Except somehow, he always ended up missing the chaos or sticking behind to clean up the wreckage you and sol left behind. And yet, here he was, watching this little bubble form between you two. Silent words in your eyes, laughter tangled with breath, tiny sparks of intimacy that made his chest ache.
You handled Sol with the effortless ease of a general commanding a puppy battalion: sharp commands softened by playful authority, teasing without cruelty, and somehow Sol obeyed, leaned in, blushed, laughed, melted—perfectly and utterly yours.
Hyugo’s throat went dry.
Was it wrong to like that? To like the way you moved through chaos like it was a second skin, commanding Sol’s attention and affection so naturally, while he… watched?
He shoved a hand through his teal hair, brushing strands behind his ear, pretending to check his phone while his gaze lingered far too long. His stomach twisted with a familiar ache—a mix of envy, longing, and guilt.
Because he knew. He knew exactly who you loved, and it wasn’t him.
It’s Sol.
And yet, being here, being allowed this close to your world, even as the ever-reliable third wheel, was both torture and the only thing keeping him tethered to nights like this.
He’d carried it since that night—the Discord call.
A night filled with laughter, of cheap jump scares, of physics-defying monster chases. The horror game had started the way it always did: loud, stupid, full of cheap jump scares and you roasting him every time he shrieked in proximity chat. You’d both been laughing so hard at one point he almost dropped his controller.
Just Classic. Easy. Harmless. Except he’d left halfway through. Just ten minutes—bathroom, water, whatever excuse. He came back, headset sliding on, only to realize he’d walked into something else entirely.
You. Different.
Not the usual you who dominated every argument, who shoved him around with that smug grin and sharp tongue. No—this was a quieter kind of control. Your voice was low, steady, coaxing. Still dominant, but patient. Dangerous. And Sol—poor, flustered Sol—was eating it up, stammering into his mic like you’d stolen the air out of his lungs.
Hyugo froze. He’d expected more screaming, more of your usual biting jokes.
Instead, his headset was filled with your voice—a smooth, teasing cadence that wrapped around him, controlled and utterly maddening. It did something to his gut, something hot and tight. He stared at his screen, fingers slack on the controller, completely paralyzed.
He’d never admit it, not even under torture, but the sound of you taking charge short-circuited something fundamental in him.
Watching you lead, your confidence a quiet force that had both him and Sol unconsciously falling in line, was a different kind of aphrodisiac. It was the way you dressed, the way your body moved when you were focused, the effortless command in your tone—it all conspired to send blood rushing south, making his cock twitch insistently against his jeans.
This had been happening too often.
After the incident, he’d lost count of the times he’d had to mute his mic and turn off his camera, just to grip his own throbbing cock through his pants, desperate for relief before he made a mess of himself.
There were even times you’d asked, during other gaming sessions at his place or sol’s place, or simply hanging out, genuine concern in your voice, "You okay, Hyuhyu? You keep zoning out." He’d had to excuse himself so fast, scrambling to the restroom before the image of you looking at him like that pushed him over the edge.
And it wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair that Sol got the softness, the playful attention. It wasn't fair that Hyugo was the one in solitude,palm pressed hard over his mouth to stifle his groans as he pictured it was his name you were cooing, his performance you were praising, his cock you were—
No stop!
Hyugo shakes his head, just by sitting beside you on the couch, the memory hit him with the force of a physical blow. That night had been a tipping point. The carefully constructed dynamic—you, the smug menace who bossed him around; him, the defiant rival—had shattered.
Because the truth was, hearing you like that—coaxing instead of mocking, giving instead of taking—had utterly ruined him. His stupid, traitorous brain kept replaying it, twisting the memory into something horny, something that had him lying awake at night with his fists clenched, fighting the vivid image of you leaning in close, your voice like smoke, telling him exactly what to do.
The worst part?
He couldn't stop thinking about how much he wanted it. He didn't just want you to look at him. He wanted you to use that voice on him—be cold but intimate, uncaring but utterly focused, as if he were the only person in your world. He wanted to feel the weight of your command.
The realization was a punch to the chest, leaving him breathless.
Maybe he didn't just have a crush.
Maybe he was completely, desperately fucked.
He groaned, dragging a hand down his face, leaning back as the menu loop droned on. Totally impossible. And yet, when you nudged his shoulder with yours, eyes half-lidded, voice lazy as you teased, “Already sulking for the next game?” his whole chest clenched like you’d caught him mid-confession.
Pathetic. That’s what it was. Hyugo was pathetic. Because one Discord call, one slip of your voice, had him spiraling. And now, every laugh, every brush of your arm, every stupid inside joke between you just cemented the fact:
He was in deep. Way too deep.
And you didn’t even know about it.
And now, as you leaned back, smirk tugging at your lips while Sol fumed and fumbled below you, sitting on the floor, Hyugo realized something else: no matter how many pranks you pulled, how many fights Sol started, how many games you dominated, he’d never be just a friend in the way you were to each other. He was the observer, the cleanup crew, the spectator of chaos, always caught between laughter and longing.
Yet even so, when you flashed that grin, the one that had Sol melting, he couldn’t look away. Couldn’t stop tracing the easy rhythm between you two. Couldn’t stop the quiet, burning thought that maybe—just maybe—he wanted it too.
Even if it was wrong.
Even if it was never his to have.
He coughed, cleared his throat, forcing a laugh as he nudged the controller. “Uh… you two done plotting world domination over me yet?”
You glanced over your shoulder, smirk tugging at your lips. “Don’t worry, Hyugo. I’ll save you a front-row seat—”
He blinked. No, no, this is wrong.
But the corner of your mouth twitched, and Hyugo knew, deep down, that maybe, just maybe… he didn’t want to leave that front-row seat. The spell of the moment broke when Sol cleared his throat, voice still pink around the edges from your earlier stare. “Alright, alright. Can we start playing again before I lose my mind?”
You leaned back, crunching on what little remained of your snacks, and smirked. “Yeah, but lowkey… we’re running dry in here. We need more fuel. I swear the three of us eat like a pack of raccoons.”
Hyugo stood up almost instantly, brushing teal strands back from his face. “Then let’s go to the store.”
You groaned, dramatic, sinking into the couch cushions. “Mmm… don’t really feel like going outside right now. Hair a mess right now.”
Sol shot you a look, lips quirking. “Lazy.”
Then, with a grin, he jabbed a thumb at Hyugo. “Hyugo can go. He knows what we like anyway.”
Hyugo froze, shoulders stiff. Go alone?
And leave you here—with Sol—in his apartment, surrounded by his things? No. Absolutely not. He pictured it already: you and Sol sprawled on his couch, laughter echoing in his space, your voice soft in ways he’d never hear for himself. Forty-five minutes at least. An eternity.
He wouldn’t risk it.
“Yeah, no,” Hyugo cut in quickly, shaking his head. “Not happening. You think I’m leaving my place with you two unsupervised? Not a chance.” His tone was playful, but his chest felt hot, heavy. “You’d burn the place down—or worse.”
“Worse?” you mocked, raising a brow.
Hyugo’s cheeks flushed, and he looked away, hiding behind a hand raking through his hair. “You know what I mean.”
“Fine,” you said, standing suddenly, a sly grin tugging at your lips, energy shifting like a tide. “Sol can go. He came in last place, didn’t he? Punishment.”
Sol blinked, caught off guard, “Wait, what—no, that’s not—”
But you were already nudging him toward the door, laughter dancing in your voice. “C’mon, loser. Go fetch. You owe us snacks.”
“That’s not fair!” Sol protested, half stumbling, half laughing as you shepherded him forward. But he melted under your attention, defenses crumbling as soon as your voice softened, just enough praise in your tone to make him sigh and tug on his jacket. Sneakers on, laces tied, hair mussed from the rush—but he was obedient. Always.
Hyugo sank back into the couch, eyes flicking away, jaw tight. It wasn’t impressive anymore, watching Sol fold so easily for you.
A few words. One look. That’s all it took.
You leaned close as Sol paused at the threshold, tilting your head just so, and whispered something into his ear—soft, teasing, almost intimate. It made him freeze for a heartbeat, cheeks heating, lips quirking into a tiny, nervous grin. Then he mumbled, “…okay,” before stepping toward the door.
Hyugo’s chest ached in quiet, torturous waves.
He still lowkey hated how easily you commanded Sol, the way your laughter wrapped around him, the subtle, effortless way you drew him in without even touching. Sol adored you, clearly loved the little jabs and teasing, the dominance that wasn’t cruel—just playful. And you handled it like it was nothing, as though guiding him, coaxing him, bending him to your rhythm was the most natural thing in the world.
Hyugo watched, pink creeping into his cheeks, fingers brushing through his long teal hair, jaw clenched, eyes flicking away like a guilty child caught staring at something he shouldn’t. He couldn’t tear his gaze from you, not really, even as he told himself to look away.
And yet…
Every little glance, every whispered word, every shared smirk between you two felt like it carved its way into him. The way Sol’s face lit up under your attention. The way you could make him laugh, fluster, and obey—all without even trying.
Hyugo envied him. Desperately.
The second Sol left, the door clicked shut behind him—lock sliding into place like punctuation. You turned, back against the wood for a beat, listening to the sound fade down the hall before pushing off and heading back toward the living room.
You made your way back to the living room, just the low hum of the console menu looping through the speakers and the faint creak of the couch when you sat back down.
Unaware of Hyugo’s pulse thudded in his ears, his knee bouncing as he stared down at his hands. He didn’t look up, couldn’t. His mind just kept running the same line on repeat like a broken record:
Don’t look. Don’t want. Don’t ruin this.
He already knew how this went. You and Sol—there was a thing there, something unspoken but obvious. Hyugo had made his peace with that months ago. He was the sidekick, the best friend, the comic relief. Not competition. Definitely not the guy who got to sit here wondering what your laugh would sound like if it was only meant for him.
So he did what he always did—slapped on the playful grin.
That easy, smug expression that made him look untouchable. “Alright,” he said suddenly, voice cutting through the quiet as he straightened up. He clapped his hands once, loud and sharp. “Since Sol’s off doing his little snack pilgrimage, we might as well play something that doesn’t tank my IQ. You in?”
You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Something that doesn’t tank your IQ? Hyugo, the last three times I wasn’t here, Sol literally beat your ass.”
“Glitch,” Hyugo deadpanned, snatching a case from the shelf. “Obviously.” He popped it open and slid the disc in with practiced ease. “Anyway, this one’s just a warm-up. For fun. I’ll even let you play this time.”
You snorted, leaning against the armrest. “How generous. So I can carry you again?”
He flashed that grin, sharp enough to cut. “Cute. Keep talking. You’ll see who’s carrying who in about five minutes.”
Then he dropped back onto the couch, sprawling like he owned the place—arms stretched over the backrest, legs wide, posture loud and cocky. But even with all that exaggerated confidence, there was space left open beside him.
Yet, you ignored the open space next to him—completely, shamelessly, like it wasn’t even there.
Instead, you slid onto the couch behind Hyugo. Not beside. Not across. Behind. Moving with that lazy, confident ease that said you’d already decided this was happening. You tucked your legs under yourself and settled in, knees pressing lightly against his sides like a human frontrest.
Hyugo froze mid-breath.
You leaned forward a little, your chest pressing against his back, casual like it was nothing, and suddenly his entire nervous system decided to stage a rebellion.
His grip on the controller tightened; his eyes widened a fraction. The man was malfunctioning. “…Uh,” he croaked, voice breaking halfway through, “What—what are you doing?”
“Better view,” you said smoothly, your breath grazing his ear as you peeked over his shoulder at the screen. “I can see your hand movements this way.”
Hyugo blinked once. Then twice. Slowly turned his head toward the camera like this was a live recording of his suffering. “What?”
You just hummed, perfectly content. “Makes more sense. I like seeing how you play.”
Hyugo stared straight ahead, jaw tight. “You know… most people sit next to their friends. Like normal human beings.”
You rested your chin on his shoulder, the picture of innocence. “Relax. You’re not just a friend, and also, I do this to Sol all the time.”
That did it.
Hyugo’s whole expression moved. “You— you what?”
“Yeah,” you said lightly, shifting to get more comfortable—which, by the way, only made it worse. “He doesn’t mind. Says it keeps me from yelling at his terrible aim.”
Hyugo made a strangled noise in the back of his throat—half laugh, half internal screaming. “Oh, sure, yeah, great. No big deal. Totally fine. I’m just— a chair now. That’s cool. Everyone needs a… human gaming chair.”
You snorted softly against his shoulder. “Exactly. You’re getting it.”
He stared at the screen, deadpan, trying to pretend like his pulse wasn’t about to start Morse coding distress signals through his neck. “Yeah. Totally normal. This is… fine.”
It wasn’t fine.
Inside, his brain was doing donuts in the parking lot.
You were in soft, loose loungewear, the fabric whispering against him every time you shifted. The warmth of you pressed close— comfortable, familiar, but far too charged for his nervous system to survive intact. Your knees framed his sides, your breath touched the back of his neck, and he swore he could feel the pulse at your throat through the air between you.
Every inch of him was aware of you—the faint scent of you, the steady rhythm of your breathing, the quiet hum that lived in the space where your bodies nearly met. He could feel it, that gravity, dragging him in. No big deal, you’d said.
No. Big. Deal.
He laughed, the sound thin and too bright. “Yep. No big deal,” he muttered, mashing buttons on the controller like the screen could save him. Spoiler: it definitely did.
Because this was not no big deal. This was a crisis. A full-blown, emotional, cardiac event disguised as ‘friendly gaming.’ And when you murmured, all casual, “You’re tensing up, Hyugo. You okay?”
He nearly dropped the controller.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m chiling,” he said quickly, voice cracking halfway through. He coughed, as if that would erase the evidence.
You tilted your head, grinning. “What, nervous? Afraid I’ll distract you?”
He didn’t—couldn’t—look at you. “Nah. You could sit upside-down and I’d still win.”
Lie. He was already losing, completely derailed by the heat coming off you. His heart was beating like the game’s soundtrack, thudding too loud in his chest. Every small laugh that brushed his ear, every shift of the couch cushions, made it harder to think.
Then the match loaded in. Music kicked up. Armor on.
“Ready to lose?” he shot back, grin sliding into place like nothing had happened.
You smirked, leaning closer again. “You’re about to eat dirt.”
Five minutes later—
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Hyugo stretched like he’d just won a championship, arms up, controller dangling loosely from his hand. “First round goes to me,” he announced, grin pure smugness. He leaned back a little, just enough that his shoulder brushed you. You could practically feel the satisfaction radiating off him.
You squinted at the screen. Then at him. “Cheating. I’m calling it.”
He didn’t even look away from the scoreboard. “Or maybe,” he said, tone infuriatingly casual, “you’re just bad.”
Your jaw dropped. “Oh, it’s on.”
Before he could blink, you shifted position—quick, decisive, and absolutely personal. You slid closer, knees pressing into the cushions on either side of him, and reached around so your controller hovered just above his. Your arms boxed him in, your hands working over the same airspace as his, and the second match began like a scene from an overly dramatic esports documentary.
Hyugo’s whole body went rigid.
You? Completely oblivious. Locked in.
The second the match started again, your focus tunneled straight to the screen. Your face nearly brushed his as you leaned forward, fingers flying. “C’mon, c’mon—no way you’re getting another one—”
Meanwhile, Hyugo’s entire nervous system was malfunctioning. His brain screamed to move, but his body refused. He was suddenly hyperaware of every small thing—your laugh just beside his ear, the way your sleeve brushed his arm, the faint sound of you breathing when the game got quiet.
And somehow, despite all that, he still won.
“HYU!” you barked, tossing your head back in frustration. “Way to go. Fucking Hyugo. You’ve definitely played this way too much, huh?” Sarcasm sharp, tone dripping with frustration.
Hyugo snorted, trying to look cool even though his face was betraying him. “Natural talent,” he said, voice half a pitch higher than usual.
“Sure,” you muttered, crossing your arms and glaring at the respawn screen.
“Or maybe,” he said lightly, fingers still idly tapping the controller, “you’re just bad.”
“Oh, it’s on.”
Before he could blink, you slid your arms under his, controller locking right over his. Your torso pressed against his back, thighs snug on either side. Hyugo went completely still—like his soul just blue-screened.
You leaned forward, forehead nearly bumping his shoulder, muttering, “C’mon, c’mon, try me now, let’s see how cocky you are—”
Hyugo’s entire body heat up. Every breath came shallow, stuttering, his pulse crawling up the side of his neck. He could feel you move—everywhere. The faint brush of your knee, your arm sliding just slightly against his, the warmth of your voice rumbling against his back. His hands tightened around the controller like it was a lifeline.
And somehow, he still won.
“Hyugo!” you groaned, smacking your head lightly against his back. “No way. No way. You’re cheating. You’ve definitely played this too much, huh?”
Hyugo laughed—too loud, too sharp, like he was trying to drown out his own heartbeat. “Guess some of us are naturals.”
“Another round,” you said, chin practically bumping his shoulder. He froze. Controller still in hand, eyes glued to the screen. Then, slowly, subtly, he leaned forward—away from you.
“Uh-huh.” You tilted your head, watching him like a cat watching a bug. “Why’re you moving away like that?”
“No reason,” he said too fast, voice cracking a little at the end. “Just—next round, yeah?”
You leaned in closer, voice dripping with teasing sugar. “Hyuuuugo,” you sang out, dragging the name like you were tasting it. “Your pale ass is glowing. You’re redder than Sol after one shot. You overheating, or you catching feelings?”
He froze, and the look on his face should’ve told you everything.
But you didn’t catch it. Not at first.
Hyugo muttered something strangled, almost unintelligible, “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, you sound fine,” you teased, poking his side with the controller, “Just admit you’re embarrassed I almost beat you.”
“You didn’t,” he grumbled.
“Almost,” you said, grinning against his shoulder like you knew it would annoy him.
He didn’t look at you. Not once. His teal hair fell forward, shadowing half his face, and that alone should’ve been your first clue. The air felt heavier now—warm, static, charged in ways you didn’t mean for it to be. Every time you leaned in, the couch dipped slightly, pulling you closer. Every movement, every breath felt exaggerated in the silence between button clicks.
And then it hit you. The realization.
How close you really were.
How your chest was pressed against his back. How your knees bracketed his sides. How your breath brushed the back of his neck when you leaned in too far, and how he—quiet, stiff, too still—wasn’t teasing you back. Not laughing, not pushing, not doing anything.
He wasn’t playing along.
You swallowed, guilt crawling hot up your spine.
God, how hadn’t you noticed? How could you have been that oblivious? You’d been all over him—touching him, crowding him—without even asking if he was okay with it.
And he just sat there, allowing it.
You pulled back like you’d been burned, heat rushing to your own cheeks. “...Hyugo.” Your voice came out softer than you meant it to, threaded with something raw. “Shit—hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—uh—get all up in your space like that. I wasn’t thinking.”
He didn’t turn right away. His fingers stilled on the controller, and for a second, the only sound in the room was the quiet hum of the console. Then he exhaled, slow, measured, setting the controller down on his thigh.
“I didn’t mean to make it weird,” you added quickly, eyes flicking away. “You can just say if I’m too close or—whatever. I’ll move.”
Hyugo’s head snapped toward you so fast his hair shifted over his shoulder. His lips parted, like he wanted to say ‘no, it’s fine,’ but the words got tangled somewhere between his throat and pride. He blinked once, twice, then shook his head, a little too quickly.
“It’s not that,” he muttered.
You frowned, still hesitant. “Then what is it?”
He didn’t answer right away—his jaw flexed, gaze fixed on the glowing screen like he was trying to anchor himself to something that wasn’t you. “Don’t… don’t act different just because I’m acting weird,” he said finally, quiet but firm.
You blinked, unsure what to do with that. “I’m not acting different, I just—” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, Hyu. That’s all.”
He laughed, low and forced, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You didn’t,” he said—too fast, too defensive. His ears betrayed him, though—still pink, still burning.
“Okay,” you murmured, suspicious, “if that’s the case… spill, Hyu.”
The couch dipped as you turned to face him properly. You weren’t touching him anymore—not really—but your knees still brushed when you shifted, that small, barely contact grounding you both in the thick quiet between you.
Hyugo didn’t pull away this time. If anything, he leaned the tiniest bit closer, like his body hadn’t gotten the memo that his brain was currently waving a thousand red flags. His eyes stayed glued to the controller in his lap, thumb fidgeting with the joystick like it was the only thing keeping him from self-destructing.
Silence. Then a sharp sigh. His shoulders sagged.
“If I tell you…” he muttered, voice low, strained, “you’re not gonna judge me?”
You blinked. That tone—half serious, half oh god, he’s actually stressed. “Whatever it is,” you said, matching his quiet, “I’m not gonna judge you.”
He didn’t believe that for a second. You could see it in the way his jaw worked, in the way he kept inhaling like he was about to say something but then stopped, like the words were traitors he couldn’t risk setting free.
Inside, Hyugo’s brain was an absolute war zone.
Okay. You can’t tell them you like them. That’s insane. You’ve known them for—what—months? Weeks? Long enough to know they sit way too close and smell good but not long enough to say, hey, you’re short-circuiting my nervous system.
He was practically vibrating with contained panic, staring at the screen like the gaming console menu would suddenly offer emotional support. The music looped again—just repetitive and taunting. Every time that cheerful tune restarted, it felt like the universe was mocking him.
You watched him quietly, brow furrowed. “You look like you’re debating whether to confess a crime.”
That got a reaction—barely. The corner of his mouth twitched, but the smile never quite made it. His eyes darted to you and back again, quick, like he’d looked directly into the sun.
You tilted your head, unimpressed. “Alright, what is this, huh? You—what—steal my snack stash? Read my texts? Accidentally order ten pounds of detective comics off my Amazon?”
He didn’t move nor blink. Just stared at the controller like it personally offended him.
“…Wait a sec.” You gasp, leaning closer like you’ve just uncovered a scandal. “Don’t tell me this is about the Discord call the other night.”
That’s the kill shot.
Hyugo freezes mid-breath—controller half-raised, shoulders locking up like his soul just blue-screened. His head whips toward you so fast you swear you hear his neck pop. “What—no—why would it be about that?” he blurts out, voice pitching halfway through like he’s sixteen and lying to his mom.
You blink at him, then grin slow and wicked. “Oh my god.” The grin breaks into full-blown laughter. “It is about that!”
“Stop—” he tries, but it’s too late.
You lean back, waving a hand. “Hyugo, relax. If you’re embarrassed ‘cause you breathed too hard into your mic, you’re fine. Half the people in that call sounded like Darth Vader with asthma.”
He drags a hand down his face, muffling what sounds like a growl—or maybe a dying prayer. His teal hair slips through his fingers as he groans, “You’re so wrong but so right at the same time…”
You pause. Normally, this is where he’d smack your knee with the controller, toss some sarcastic jab your way, call you “annoying” in that lazy, affectionate way he does. But this time? Nothing.
He just… shuts down.
Hyugo leans back against the couch, body turned away, shoulders rigid. The flickering screenlight cuts across his face—tense, jaw flexing, knuckles white around the controller. You can feel him closing himself off like slamming a door.
The laughter drains out of you. “...Hyu.” Your voice drops soft, careful now. “Whatever this is—it’s eating you alive. If you don’t tell me, I’m just gonna keep guessing until you do.”
The game menu loops again. Fifth time. Sixth. You swear you can hear the faint static hum of his thoughts frying themselves. Then—he laughs. Not the normal one, not that cocky chuckle. This one’s cracked and breathless, like it’s been fighting to escape.
“Look,” he mutters finally, shutting his eyes like if he can’t see you, maybe the confession won’t count. “It wasn’t the mic, okay?” His voice catches—almost a whisper. “It was you. That night. During the call.”
Your brows lift, somewhat pointing at yourself “...Me?”
He exhales, long and ragged, still not looking at you. “That night. During the the co-op horror game. The one where I left so abruptly. You think it was the jump scares? It wasn’t.” He swallowed, the motion painful and obvious, a flush of scarlet burning its way up his neck.
“You leaned into your mic. Your voice dropped to that… that whisper.” His tone wavered, rough and uneven. “Like, I know It was meant for Sol, just a bit of roleplay to mess with him, but it wasn’t him who fucking short-circuited. It was me.”
You stare at him, a few blinks behind his meaning. “…Ohhh,” you said at last, nodding slowly as if the pieces had finally clicked. “Right. Yeah. Okay. I get it now.”
Hyugo looks… hopeful? Cautious? He leans forward slightly, like you’re about to say something profound.
You ruin it instantly.
“Yeah, no, I totally get it. That night was wild, Sol was being such a horndog. I’d be embarrassed too if I had to witness that.” You laugh under your breath, waving it off. “Seriously, don’t even worry about it. He’s always like that—one flirty tone and he’s ready to combust. Man needs holy water.”
Hyugo just stares at you, face blanking in disbelief before contorting into something like visible pain.
“That’s—no—that’s not—” He’s sputtering, red to the ears. “I wasn’t talking about Sol!”
You freeze mid-gesture, your hand still half-raised. “…You weren’t?”
He looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. His voice comes out half-strangled. “No! Not him!”
You squint, baffled, tilting your head. “Then what are you—wait—what the hell are you embarrassed about, then?”
The silence that follows is deafening. You can practically hear the moment his last thread of patience snaps—his chest rising with a shaky inhale, eyes darting anywhere but your face, like he’s seconds away from combusting.
You, of course, are still blissfully clueless.
For a moment, the only sound is thata damn game menu music looping, an absurdly cheerful little tune undercutting the gravity of the room. Hyugo drags in a sharp breath through his nose, shoulders quaking like he’s holding himself together by sheer force of will. When he finally speaks again, his voice has dropped low—hoarse and dangerous in its honesty.
“You.”
The word isn’t spoken; it’s hurled at you, a single, damning accusation that steals the air from your lungs.
Hyugo’s head lifts, teal hair falling into his eyes, but for once he doesn’t hide behind it. He pins you there with a look that’s almost feral—flushed, furious, and hurting all at once. “It wasn’t Sol. It wasn’t the game.” His voice shakes, low and rough, like gravel dragged across steel.
“It was you.”
He blurts it, no warning, like it’s been rotting behind his teeth and he can’t hold it anymore. His whole body’s leaning forward now, shoulders tight, fists digging into his thighs.
“Your voice. That night.” He lets out a short, broken laugh—dark, bitter, ugly. “Every breath you took, every whisper you aimed at him—supposed to be for him—I sat there and jerk off to it. Let it crawl under my skin until it fucking burned.”
His fingers flex, curl, uncurl, like he doesn’t even know where to put them. “Do you even get what that does to a guy?” His voice drops lower, rougher. “Hearing you sound like that—soft, low, intimate—wrecked me. It put pictures in my head. Shit I had no right to imagine. And I couldn’t stop. You were giving it to him with your voice, and I—” His jaw locks so hard it looks painful. “—I just broke.”
Then it all spills.
“I had to do something. So yeah. I jerked off to your voice. Right there. In the dark.” He huffs a humorless laugh, eyes squeezed shut like he’s bracing for a hit. “Like some fucking animal. And it didn’t even work. Didn’t get you out of my head.”
He drags a hand down his face, teal hair sticking to his damp forehead, his breathing uneven. “This isn’t new. I’ve been fighting this for months. Fighting you.” When his eyes finally snap open—pleading and defiant at the same time. “So go ahead. Tell me I’m a freak. Tell me I made it all up. That I invented the way you sound, the way your breath hitches when you laugh. Tell me I’m crazy for wanting you so bad it feels like a sickness.”
You blinked.
Stared at him for a long, painfully slow second, like your brain was still downloading the absurd magnitude of what he’d just admitted. Then—soft, low, ridiculous chuckle. Not a “holy shit,” not a freak-out, just… a laugh.
“Okay, and?” you said, voice casual, like he’d just told you he ate your leftovers.
Hyugo’s jaw went slack. Eyes wide. Hands frozen mid-air, like he’d been caught in the act of the most unspeakable crime ever. “Wait… wait, what—?!”
You bent down, plucked the controller from the ground where it had fallen during his confession, and held it out to him like it was nothing. “Here,” you said, casually, “come on, an actual round before Sol gets back.”
His brain short-circuited.
Did you just… treat that like it was normal?
“You’re… not gonna hit me? Unfriend me? Call the cops?” He asked, still confused, watching you.
You, wearing casual smile across your face, sliding yourself back behind him. This time, you moved fully back into your usual position: legs warping around his sides, arms slipping under his, chin resting lightly on his shoulder, controller in hand.
Just perfectly casual.
“Oh my god, no, callin’ the cops seem a bit extreme,” you said, voice low, “plus close friends share weird stuff. We survive. We move on. Game time, right?”
Hyugo froze again, blinking like he’d landed in some parallel universe where this is just… normal. Slowly, hesitantly, he took the controller, holding it like it might spontaneously combust. “Right… right…” he muttered, eyes flicking nervously from the screen to your face, to the way your body was draped all over his.
You tapped a button, nudged slightly forward with your weight, smirking. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna make you redo your confession.”
His jaw tightened. Fingers twitched over the buttons, still half-expecting some sort of retaliation. But the longer he sat there, controller in hand, chin under your shoulder, legs snug against his sides, the more absurd it all felt. You weren’t mad, you weren’t grossed out, you weren’t even teasing him too much.
Hyugo let out a strangled laugh, low and panicked.
How… how can you… be so chill about this?
Meanwhile, you leaned closer, murmuring, “Focus up, loser. You’re about to get stomped again.”
The flush on his face? Peak crimson. The sweat on his palms? Peak nervous. And deep down, Hyugo realized… you weren’t losing your mind.
Not even a little.
Which, honestly, made him lose even harder.
The game started, but Hyugo’s focus was in tatters. His entire world had narrowed to the points of contact between your body and his. You pressed yourself even closer against his back, your chest to his shoulder blades, your chin a persistent, warm weight on his shoulder.
“You’re gonna lose,” you mumbled, your voice a low, pouting hum directly beside his ear. Your breath ghosted over his skin, and he flinched, his character on screen stumbling. “Why are you so stiff all of a sudden?”
He couldn’t form a sentence. Why were you acting so familiar, so normal, after his nuclear confession?
It was maddening.
Then, you shifted. Your lips brushed the shell of his ear before your teeth closed, gentle but careful, on the sensitive tip of his earlobe. A sharp jolt shot down his spine.
“You know,” you began, your voice conversational even as you licked a slow, soothing stripe over the spot you’d just bitten, “a lot of people get it wrong. With a joystick… the thickness is way more important than its stiffness.”
Your eyes, all knowing, looking down. His grey sweatpants did nothing to hide the hard, aching line of his erection, tenting the fabric and visibly throbbing with his heartbeat. You didn’t pause your gameplay. You simply brought your hand down, palm flat, and rubbed it slowly, intentionally over the length of him.
Hyugo gasped, his head falling back against your shoulder. His controller slipped in his sweaty grip. “I mean,” you continued, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as your fingers traced his outline through the soft cotton, “size and thickness are both important, sure. But at the end of the day…” You squeezed him gently, and a broken moan was torn from his throat.
“…it’s not gonna feel good if it’s not hard.”
You licked his ear again just as the triumphant fanfare of the game’s end screen blared. He’d lost. He hadn’t moved his controller in over a minute.
“Called it,” you said, poking his burning red cheek. “You totally choked.”
“W-What are you… what are you doing?” he stammered, his body trembling, caught between pushing into your touch and fleeing from the overwhelming sensation.
You stilled your hand, your expression turning knowing. “I knew, by the way,” you said softly. “About that night.”
Hyugo’s blood ran cold. “What?”
“That you were there. In the Discord call. Sol was… distracted. His screen was probably full of me. He didn’t notice the third member lurking in the room.” You shrugged, a casual, infuriatingly graceful movement. “Kinda our fault for staying in the group chat instead of going private. But I saw the user list. I saw you.”
His breath hitched.
You knew. Fuck, you really knew. All this time, you knew.
“I wondered when you’d finally bring it up,” you mused, your fingers moving to the waistband of his sweatpants. “After all, it happened five months and four weeks ago.”
No, like dead ass part one was that long ago. I’m so so sorry, y'all.
With a deft flick, you untied the drawstring and pushed the fabric down his hips. His pale cock sprang free, hard and desperate, the tip already glistening with precum. You wrapped your fingers around him, not quite stroking, just holding him, feeling the frantic pulse under your palm.
“So,” you whispered, your thumb sweeping over the slick head, smearing the moisture, rubbing gentle, torturous circles that made his hips buck and his eyes screw shut. “Are you going to tell me to stop?”
Hyugo’s eyes flew open. They were wide, filled with lust and shame. “This is… this is cheating. You and Sol… and you’re still willing to…”
You increased the pressure of your thumb, and his protest died in a guttural groan.
“No,” he pleaded, the word a raw, broken admission. He looked at you, all his defenses gone, completely laid bare. “No, don’t… don’t stop. Please.”
A slow, playful smile curved your lips. “Good boy.”
After all, this was his chance.
And you were finally, mercifully, taking pity on him.
In the space of a single second, you moved. Your arm, which had been draped so casually over his shoulder, now became an anchor. Your hand slid down his chest, over the frantic beat of his heart, past the tense muscles of his stomach, until your fingers found the desperate, straining heat of him through his pants.
Hyugo gasped, a sharp, choked sound. His eyes, wide with shock and raw need, locked with yours. You held his gaze, unblinking, as your fingers worked his cock with an unnerving, slowness.
“You wanted my voice, Hyu?” you murmured, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as your hand finally closed around him. He was hard and hot, and as you noted his size—not the largest you’d ever held, but perfectly, enticingly substantial—a slow smile curved your lips.
“You sat in the dark and let it wreck you. Now you’re going to get it. I’m going to wring you dry with it, just like you wished for.” Your praise was a weapon, and it shattered him.
“You’re doing so well for me,” you whispered, your thumb circling his tip, spreading the bead of moisture that had gathered there. He shuddered violently, his head falling back against the couch. “So responsive. Just from my voice and my touch. It’s beautiful.”
You tightened your grip, setting a relentless, slick rhythm. “How does it feel, Hyu? Tell me.”
A broken groan was torn from his throat. “It’s… good. So good. Please—”
“Please what?” you coaxed, your voice a low, intimate purr. But you didn’t wait for an answer. With your other hand, you cupped his jaw, forcing his head to turn and his glazed eyes to meet yours. “Look at me.”
Then you kissed him.
You pushed past his parted lips with your tongue, claiming the taste of his stifled moans. Your legs, still wrapped around him from behind, pulled him tighter against you as you leaned into the kiss, your chest pressing flush against his. You could feel the frantic hammering of his heart against your own, a wild, syncopated rhythm.
A soft, approving moan vibrated against his lips, and you felt him unravel in your hand, his control fraying at the edges.
“I’m— I’m gonna—” he pleaded, the words a ragged, desperate sob against your mouth. His body went rigid, every muscle straining as he spilled over your fist, his release hot and sudden, painting your fingers and his stomach with stark, white streaks.
You broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look down at your hand. “Whoa,” you breathed, a hint of a smirk playing on your swollen lips. “You were supposed to tell me you were close, kay?”
Hyugo could only pant, utterly spent and boneless against the couch, his eyes dazed and helpless.
You held his gaze, your expression turning playful. Slowly, you brought your cum-slicked hand to your lips. Your eyes never leaving his, you ran your tongue along the length of your fingers, cleaning them with a slow, sensual swipe.
“Next time,” you said, your voice dropping to a husky, promising whisper, “you’ll remember to warn me.”
The cheerful game music was a stark, absurd contrast to the charged silence between you. Hyugo was a statue of pure panic, his brain visibly short-circuiting—
“Hey, I’m back, I got us—” Sol’s voice died in his throat. Sol, frozen in the doorway, takeout bags dangling from his hands, and you, perched perfectly on his bare lap.
Your lounge shirt, which Sol had last seen paired with cozy shorts, now did little to hide the fact that it was the only thing you were wearing. The hem barely brushed the tops of your thighs, giving Sol a perfect, unforgiving view of your plush ass and the slick, puffy lips of your pussy pressed flush against Hyugo’s twitching cock. A clear, glistening streak of your arousal was already smeared across his tense stomach.
Sol’s eyes widened, darting from your face, to your bare legs, to the undeniable, intimate contact between your bodies. The bags hit the floor with a soft thud. “Holy shit.”
Hyugo made a sound like a choked animal. “Sol—!”
You simply sighed, the picture of mild inconvenience. “Ahh, heyy babe.”
“What the— What kind of— What are you two doing?!” Sol’s voice was strained, a desperate hope that this was some elaborate, terrible joke coloring his words.
You shifted slightly, a movement that made Hyugo hiss through his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut. “Well,” you began, your tone utterly matter-of-fact, “I kinda got horny.”
“It’s not what it looks like!” Hyugo blurted out, his voice cracking. His hands flew down in a futile attempt to cover himself, to shield the very evidence that condemned him.
Sol’s expression shattered from shock into pure, unadulterated annoyance. His face flushed a deep red. “Not what it looks like?” he repeated, his voice dangerously low. “Hyugo. It looks exactly like what it looks like. They’re naked on your dick.”
A soft, unbothered laugh escaped you. “He’s got a point, Hyu.”
Sol dragged a hand down his face, letting out a long, exasperated groan. “Oh my god. You actually did it. I leave for twenty minutes and you actually….” He leads off as he took in the scene—you draped over a rigid, crimson Hyugo, the charged air—and a slow, knowing grin spread across his face.
“Told you,” Sol said, his voice a low rumble aimed directly at Hyugo.
Hyugo’s head snapped up. “Told me what?”
“That she’d break you. When I went out, I knew. I knew exactly what she was planning to do to you the second I left.” Sol dropped the bags by the door, his eyes glinting with amusement. “She’s been plotting.”
Hyugo’s wide, bewildered eyes found yours in the screen’s reflection. “Have you?” he breathed, the question barely audible. “Have you been plotting this from the start?”
A slow smile curled your lips. You leaned in, your breath ghosting the shell of his ear. “Maybe,” you whispered.
Before Hyugo could even process the seismic shift in reality, your hand slid down his stomach, your fingers tracing the hard, tense line of his bare cock. He jolted as if electrocuted, a sharp, choked sound escaping him. “Change of games,” you announced, your voice dropping into a sultry, conspiratorial whisper that was solely for the three of you. You gave Hyugo a gentle, soft squeeze, making his breath hitch.
“Seems like we already made Hyugo lose once tonight.” You tilted your head, a wicked grin playing on your lips. “He came just from my voice. Sol, you, on the other hand, have been a very good boy. You haven’t come at all yet.”
You looked from Hyugo’s stunned, flushed face to Sol’s.
“So, the new game is simple,” you purred, leaning back slightly but keeping your possessive grip on Hyugo. “The goal is to make me cum. Hard. The first one to completely shatter my composure and make me lose my mind wins.”
Sol’s grin was instantaneous and sharp. “I like this game. But what’s the prize for the winner? Besides the obvious, life-affirming glory of reducing you to a blissed-out puddle, of course.”
You tapped a finger on your chin, feigning deep thought. “Hmm, how about… bragging rights?”
Sol’s face fell into an expression of pure, comical outrage. “Bragging rights?” he spluttered, throwing his hands up. “Are you kidding me? We’re putting our pride, our stamina, our very souls on the line, and the pot is ‘bragging rights’? That’s the most bankrupt, pathetic stake I’ve ever heard!”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you shot back, not sorry at all. “Is the chance to witness my earth-shattering orgasm not enough for you? Should I throw in a participation trophy, too?”
Sol’s blush deepened, but he held his ground, grumbling, “Pumpkin It just… lacks grandeur! It needs more… consequence.”
A slow, knowing smile spread across your lips. “Then how about this: the winner gets the memory of my undoing, courtesy of them, to replay in their mind forever. That’s a prize money can’t buy.”
Sol opened his mouth, likely to protest the intangible nature of the prize again, but a voice cut through the tension first.
“That’s not enough.”
Both you and Sol turned to look at Hyugo. He had been quiet, his teal hair shadowing his eyes, but now his gaze was sharp and fixed on you.
“Hyugo?” Sol asked, sounding almost wary.
Hyugo’s eyes never left yours. “Bragging rights are for children.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial, heated whisper that was meant for you alone, yet hung in the air for all to hear. “If we’re doing this, we make it real. We make it tangible.”
You felt a shiver trace its way down your spine, yet still showed a smile. “What did you have in mind?”
A slow, knowing smirk tugged at Hyugo’s lips. “Whoever wins…”
Sol blinked, already wary. “Wait—hold on—”
You cut him off with a calm that only made the moment hotter, more dangerous. “No, let him finish,” you said, eyes gleaming. “I’m curious.”
Hyugo faltered for the first time under your gaze, closing the gap between you all, your voice smooth and unhurried. “Fine. Let’s raise the stakes, then.”
Both pairs of eyes locked on you.
“If either of you wins,” you murmured, dragging your gaze from Hyugo’s mouth to Sol’s unsteady stare, “you’ll get your reward—me, doing whatever you ask.”
Sol’s breath hitched, color rising to his cheeks.
“But…” You tilted your head slightly, the faintest smile touching your lips. “If I win—meaning if you come three times, by my hand—then you’re mine. You’ll serve, obey, and play nice until I decide otherwise.” You leaned closer to Hyugo, your words brushing his ear like silk. “So,” you whispered, voice dropping to something almost tender, almost cruel, “still think you can handle me?”
Hyugo swallowed hard, fraying under your stare. “I—yeah. I can.”
The single word was a spark to tinder. “Bet.”
You then shifted, turning to fully face Sol, “Don’t you think Hyugo’s cock looks so cute like this?” you mused, watching it twitch under your touch. “All desperate and flushed for me.”
A glint of possessive jealousy crossed Sol’s features. He took a half-step forward, but you didn’t let him speak. “Ah-ah,” you chided, pointing a finger at the space on the floor in front of you. “I’m in charge in of the game, so my rules, sit boy.”
Like a well-trained dog, Sol obeyed, a dark heat in his eyes. He shucked off his hoodie and pushed his pants and boxers down in one fluid motion, his own erection springing free.
You positioned yourself on the couch, leaning over Hyugo’s lap. You maintained eye contact with Sol as you took Hyugo’s length in your hand, giving the tip a slow, teasing lick. Your ass was arched high in the air, giving Sol a perfect, unobstructed view of your glistening, wet pussy.
“Come here,” you commanded Sol, your voice husky. You used two fingers to spread yourself open for him. “Play the game; fuck me.”
With a guttural sound, Sol was on his knees behind you. His hands gripped your hips, his large cock nudging at your entrance before he pushed inside in one smooth, deep stroke. The sensation forced a loud, want on moan from your lips, the vibrations traveling straight down Hyugo’s shaft, making his whole body tense.
You took him deeper into your mouth, encouraging him with a muffled, “C’mon, Hyugo. Use me.”
Hesitation warred with raw, desperate need in his teal eyes.
This was his chance, the line was already crossed.
With a broken groan, he gave in. His hands tangled in your hair, and he began to move your head, setting a rhythm, gently at first, then with more urgency, fucking your mouth in time with Sol’s thrusts. The sensation of being filled at both ends made you clench tightly around Sol, your moans becoming a continuous, muffled symphony around Hyugo’s cock.
“Easy, Hyugo,” Sol grunted, his own pace becoming frantic, his grip on your ass tightening. “You’ll make them choke.”
But the warning came too late. The overwhelming stimulation was too much. With a final, deep thrust, Sol buried himself inside you, groaning as he spilled his release. At the exact same moment, feeling your throat constrict around him, Hyugo lost his battle for control, his hips bucking as he came down your throat. Panting, spent, Sol and Hyugo collapsed into a heap of tangled limbs.
You were the first to speak, pulling off Hyugo with a wet pop and laughing breathlessly. “Well, look at that. Two Hyu, one Sol.” You glanced over your shoulder at a dazed, panting Sol. “Also, you’re always so rough on me, Sol. At least Hyugo here,” you patted Hyugo’s trembling thigh, “was playing the game right.”
Before Hyugo could even process your compliment, you were moving.
You rose to your knees and then straddled his lap, sinking down before he could utter a word. You rocked forward, the hot, damp silk of your cunt grinding against the rigid line of his exposed cock, soaking the length with the undeniable evidence of your own arousal.
A choked gasp tore from his throat, his hands flying to your hips to steady himself—or to hold you there. His eyes were wide, glazed with shock and a desperate, rising hunger.
“You said you could handle it,” you purred, rolling your hips in a slow, torturous circle, using his length to stroke your own aching folds. “So handle it.”
But you weren’t finished.
Because you were playing for a higher score.
Without breaking eye contact with the utterly wrecked Hyugo, your hand snaked out, finding Sol’s wrist where he sat frozen beside you. You guided his hand to the back of your head, a invitation he was too stunned to refuse. As you leaned down, taking Sol’s cock into your mouth with a practiced ease, you increased the pressure on Hyugo, a slick, pulsing, grinding that promised everything and gave nothing.
You kept the rhythm, a cruel and perfect metronome: a grind against Hyugo's throbbing cock, a deep, swallowing pull on Sol's.
It was simply too much. With a broken shout, Sol came, his release spilling down your throat. You took it all, swallowing before pulling back with a soft, pop. Then, you laughed. It was a bright, playful sound, utterly at odds with the debauched scene.
"Two," you announced, glancing between their wrecked expressions. Your hips were still moving in that slow, infuriating grind against Hyugo's soaked, aching cock. "Two, Sol and Hyu. Funny, isn't it? We've been at this for a while now..." You leaned close to Hyugo's ear again, your voice a taunting sing-song. "...and I still haven't come. Which, by my count, means..."
You let the sentence hang, your meaning crystal clear.
Sol, still catching his breath, and Hyugo, trembling with unsated need, locked eyes over your shoulder. A dawning, horrified realization passed between them. They were both two orgasms in the hole, completely at your mercy, while you, with a playful glint in your eyes, were still sitting at a perfect, infuriating zero.
You were winning.
Hyugo’s head fell back against the couch, eyes squeezed shut, his body bowing under the relentless, teasing attention you paid him. "F-Fuck... not again..." he whimpered, his hips stuttering against you as he spent himself for the second time, overwhelmed and trembling.
You clicked your tongue softly, a mock scold as you felt the hot proof of his surrender against your thigh. "So soon, baby boy?" you purred, not letting up. "And here I was just getting started." Your focus was entirely his, your lips tracing a wet path from the hard plane of his chest back to a peaked, pink nipple, your tongue flicking over it just to feel him jolt.
Your core, still pressed against his oversensitive cock, was a slow, maddening grind. Fuck. You were going to ruin him.
On the floor beside the couch, Sol sat dazed, lazily stroking his own cock as he watched you work. A look of pure, awestruck reverence was on his face. Hyugo noicted, No wonder he listens to you so much, he thought, captivated by the cruel, beautiful precision of your teasing.
He couldn't afford to let you beat him—not at this.
Just as you leaned down to whisper another tormenting promise in Hyugo's ear, the dynamic shattered. In a surge of desperate strength, Hyugo moved. He flipped you with a grunt, pinning your back against the couch cushions, his body caging you in. His eyes, dark and blazing with a newfound resolve, looking to Sol.
"Sol. Hold the wrists."
You blinked, startled. "Huh?"
Without a second of hesitation, Sol was moving, snapping out of his daze. He knelt by your head, his hands—strong and sure—encircling your wrists and pinning them gently but firmly above your head. "Sorry, boss," he murmured, though he didn't sound sorry at all.
Meanwhile, Hyugo slid to his knees on the floor, pushing your legs far apart, his gaze fixed on the heart of you. He dragged two fingers through your slickness, his touch deliberate and knowing. "You said whoever wins has to make you cum hard," he stated, his voice rough but steady. "Why can't both of us compete for it?"
The audacity of it, the sheer, collaborative cheating, caught you so off guard that a burst of laughter escaped you. "By tag-teaming? You cheaters!"
Hyugo’s smirk was a triumphant thing. "Your rules. You never said we couldn't."
Oh, fuck.
The realization dawned as you felt Sol's lips on your neck, his grip on your wrists tightening just enough to be a promise, while Hyugo’s head dipped between your thighs, his tongue laving a slow, devastating stripe that made you arch off the couch.
The game was far from over.
It had just become a contest to see which of them could break you first.
playingpussyfingershe’llguardyoucan’t
Tje feeling lap of Hyugo’s tongue that made your eyes flutter shut and a soft, breathy sigh escape your lips. "Just like that, Hyu... so good for me," you praised, your head tilting back in surrender. It was that surrender he craved, the proof that he could unravel you. But the victory was gone in an instant.
Sol’s presence enveloped you from side of you, where Hyugo was fervent worship, Sol was possessive claim. His mouth found yours in a deep, distracting kiss, his tongue plunging in a rhythm that mocked Hyugo’s efforts below. He broke the kiss with a smirk, his thumb circling your nipple with a practiced, teasing pressure.
"Sounds like he's finally found something he's good at, pumpkin,” Sol murmured against your skin, his other hand guiding yours to the hard length of his cock, forcing your fingers to curl around him. "But let's not forget who knows how to really play you."
Ugh.
Hyugo’s thought was a furious, desperate spike in his mind. Of course Sol knew. He had the map of your body memorized, knew every shortcut to your pleasure. But this couldn’t be how it ended. Not with Sol stealing the climax he was fighting so hard to give you.
He must win.
Hyugo hands tightened on your thighs, anchoring you. He delivered a gentle, punishing bite to your inner folds, before he dove back in with a renewed, frantic purpose. He replaced broad, languid strokes with the pointed, penetrating thrust of his tongue, fucking you with it in a relentless.
The moan was torn from you, breaking free from Sol’s kiss. Your attention, your pleasure, wrenched away from Sol and back to the man between your legs. Your hands fisted in Hyugo's teal hair, not pushing him away, but pulling him closer, your gaze locking with his glinting, triumphant one as he worked you over.
God, he’s so much better at this than Sol.
Maybe it was because he was a foodie—every lick was a study in savoring. Each suck on your clit was exquisite, building a coil of pleasure so tight you trembled. But then Sol’s fingers found your soaked, puffy cunt, rubbing teasing, maddening circles just beside where Hyugo’s mouth worked so diligently. His bites and kisses along your neck were a counterpoint, a symphony of overstimulation designed to shatter your focus. "Come on, pumpkin," Sol coaxed, his voice a low rumble against your skin. "Don't hold back from me.”
Oh, no.
You felt it approaching, Hyugo felt it too—the moment your body began to teeter, the rhythm of your moans shifting, becoming Sol’s as much as his. A fierce frown etched onto his face, his movements never ceasing. No. Sol was not going to take this from him.
He was not going to be the background noise to your climax.
Hyugo stood up, the movement awkward and jerky, all his usual cool evaporated. He fumbled with cock, and he held it at the base like it was a foreign object he wasn't quite sure how to operate. He looked from the flushed, eager tip to your slick, glistening pussy, your fat folds spread open and waiting. A look of pure, unadulterated panic crossed his face.
You couldn't help it. A low, throaty laugh escaped you, the sound echoing in the living room. Hyugo’s gaze looked over to Sol, who was passed out cold beside you, a blissed-out idiot smile on his face, his own cum still leaking from his cock. "Three strikes, he's out of the game.," you mused, poking Sol's limp arm. It flopped bonelessly. "Three for Sol. Two for you."
You looked back at Hyugo, your eyes glinting with a challenge that was both a dare and a promise. "Your move." You reached down, using your fingers to spread yourself wider for him, a blatant, unashamed invitation. "Well? You talked a big game." You smirked, the taunt clear in your voice.
“Insert me.”
Hyugo's breath hitched, his control visibly fraying. He inched the tip forward, the broad head of his cock pressing against your soaked entrance, a teasing promise of what was to come.
"You know," you said, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that was a direct callback to the very one that had undone him, "for a guy who was ready to spontaneously combust over a voice call, you're looking a little... hesitant. Don't tell me the great Hyuhyu is all talk?"
That was the final straw.
A low, guttural sound ripped from his throat—part growl, part triumphant laugh. "You just had to ping me, didn't you?" he snarled, his voice dripping with a newfound, playfulness.
In one brutal, perfect thrust, he rammed his entire length into you, sheathing himself to the hilt. The air was punched from your lungs in a shared, sharp cry. For a single, suspended moment, he was still, his eyes wide and stunned, locked with yours as he processed the overwhelming, silken heat clenched tight around him. His hands, which had been trembling, now clamped onto your thighs.
"Fuck," he breathed, a cocky grin twisting his lips as he began to move, setting a punishing, pulsingpace. "Look at that. Latency is zero. Perfect sync." He leaned his head back, a vein throbbing in his temple as he fought for control, his hips driving into you with relentless precision.
His earlier vulnerability was gone, burned away by a predatory focus. Each rough, thrust of his hips drove you further into the cushions, your fingers scrambling for purchase on the couch fabric behind you.
“You feel that?” His voice was a low, rough grunt in your ear, his breath hot against your damp skin. “That’s a direct input.”
The words were so absurdly… ugh, so him, that a look of cringe warred with the overwhelming pleasure. But you didn't have time to think. Another deep, punishing stroke hit exactly the right spot, and your thought process shattered into a static whine. Your back arched, a broken moan torn from your throat.
He chuckled, a dark, satisfied sound. His hands tightened on your hips, holding you in place as he set a ruthless, perfect rhythm. "You're taking the combo so well," he growled, his own breathing ragged.
Before you could even form a coherent protest against the metaphor, he shifted his angle, lifting your leg, plunging deeper, “Hyu!” You moaned out.
The sensation was so intense it felt like a system shock, short-circuiting your nerves.
"But let's see if I can make you drop your frame rate." His pace became erratic, brutally fast, then agonizingly slow, denying you any chance to find your footing.
"Let's see you cum ONLY for me."
Hyugo’s eyes vanished, replaced by a terrifying, focused intensity. A low, guttural sound tore from his throat, half-moan, half-growl of pure conquest. “And I bet on it, I will win,” he vowed, the words a hot, ragged promise against your lips. His hands, which had been trembling just moments before, were suddenly sure and demanding.
One slid from your face, splaying possessively across your stomach, while the other wrapped tightly around your thigh, yanking you flush against him. His forehead pressed against yours, forcing direct, unbroken eye contact. In the periphery, Sol’s passed out form was a forgotten in this brutal game.
Hyugo didn't give a single fuck.
So what you ‘belong’ to Sol, so what you and him are together. He’ll take this chance and ruin the living shit of of you, just to beat this game.
His mouth crashed back onto yours, all tongue and teeth and desperate, hungry noise. This wasn't some sweet, romantic shit; this was him taking what he’d been fantasizing about for months. His hands were everywhere—gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, fisting in your hair to yank your head back and claim your throat.
"Fuck," he growled against your skin, his voice ragged. "You feel that? This is what you did to me. All those nights listening to you. This is what you fucking asked for."
He drove into you, each thrust a punctuation to his words, the couch creaking under the force; definitely not friendly competition for a game. “Hyu! Holy shit…”
It was just raw, sweaty, and so damn good.
His mouth crashing onto yours, all the pent-up frustration and jealousy of months erupting into a feverish, clumsy clash of teeth and tongue. His hands were everywhere—tangling in your hair, gripping your hips, sliding under your shirt to feel the frantic beat of your heart against his palm.
When he finally pushed inside you, it was with a guttural groan that was pure relief. He wasn't as generously large as Sol, but what he lacked in size, he made up for in a desperate, focused intensity. He angled his hips, chasing a spot deep inside you that made you see stars.
"Fuck!" you cried out, your back arching off the couch.
"See?" he panted against your neck, his voice thick with triumph and strain.
He was staring right down at you, his eyes dark and blown out, watching every single one of your expressions shatter. "Gonna cum for me, you fucking tease?" he panted, his rhythm turning brutal, perfect. "Gonna let me feel it? Or do I have to fuck it out of you?" He was trying to break you, to make you lose that cool composure that always drove him insane.
His movements was relentless, the sound of slick skin and his balls hitting your ass a lewd, counterpoint to your moans. Determined to make you break first, he shifted, one hand wrapping around your throat—not to hurt, but to claim, to dominate. The pressure was just enough to make your head spin, your vision spotting as you looked up at him, your expression utterly vulnerable.
You were wound so tight you could shatter, a live wire of pure need, and you knew only he could break you. “Hyu… please…” you begged, your voice a ragged, broken thing. “I’m so close… don’t you dare stop.”
His answer was a guttural groan against your sweat-slicked neck, his pace turning punishing, relentless. You could feel the coil of your own orgasm tightening deep in your belly, a storm about to break.
“That’s it,” you panted, your nails scoring down his back, claiming him. “Just like that… fuck, your cock is the only thing that makes me feel this full. I’m gonna come all over it. I’m gonna come for it.”
The confession shattered his control. A raw, animal sound tore from his throat. He drove into you, deeper, harder, as if he could fuse you together.
“Yes! More,” you cried out, your body arching off the bed, every muscle taut. “Be rougher, Hyu, I don’t care—just make me cum! I want to scream your name when I do. I want to drench your fucking cock.”
You felt him swell inside you, the telltale sign of his own climax approaching. Panic and desire lanced through you. “No, wait—Hyugo,” you gasped, your eyes flying open to lock with his fever-bright gaze. “Don’t pull out. Please… I need to feel it. I need to feel you come inside me. Fill me up. Please.” Your words, that raw, desperate plea, snapped the last thread of his restraint.
With a broken shout of your name, his hips slammed home and stayed there, buried to the hilt. You felt the hot, pulsing rush of his release deep within you, a flood of heat that triggered your own shattering climax.
Your vision whited out. A silent scream was torn from you as you convulsed around him, your inner walls milking his cock in a relentless, pulsingwave, drawing out every last drop of his seed. He collapsed against you, his body heavy and shuddering, his face buried in your neck as you both fought for air, joined completely in the aftershocks. The only sound was your ragged breathing and the wet, intimate sound of his spent cock still nestled deep inside you.
He had just enough strength to roll you both over, collapsing onto Sol’s and snapping the other man out of his stunned silence. You lay dazed and boneless on Hyugo’s chest, feeling the evidence of his victory begin to leak from you.
Sol stared, his jaw slack. "Did... did he win?"
You didn't even open your eyes. “Yeah,” you murmured, a blissed-out smile on your face. "Hyugo won."
"I can't believe it," Sol muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. But his prize doesn't mean he gets to keep you all to himself."
Your eyes fluttered open. "Who says you have to be separate?" you mused, your voice lazy. "Maybe the prize is... sharing."
Before Sol could process the invitation, Hyugo’s arms tightened around you possessively. "I won," he growled, his cock already stirring again inside you. "I get to do whatever I want. And I'm not done with you yet."
"Oh, hell no," Sol said, his own arousal now obvious.
As they began to argue over you, you let out a sigh that was more contentment than annoyance. You pushed yourself up on shaky arms, catching their attention. Slowly, you spread your legs, letting them both see the undeniable, overflowing proof of your shared passion.
"You're both so loud," you chided softly, your gaze flicking between their flushed faces. "I'm still not satisifed. So, are you going to keep yelling, or are you going to do something about it?"
They fell silent, two rival now utterly tamed by the same desire. And as they looked from your sated, demanding expression to each other, a new, unspoken understanding passed between them.
You smiled.
You had gotten exactly what you wanted.
And you were, God, you were.
Your nails dug into Hyugo’s back, your legs locking around him to pull him deeper as Sol’s hands began to wander your body. Your breath came in sobbing gasps that were their names, a tangled, desperate prayer. And Sol, watching Hyugo move within you, his own length hard and aching, could only think one thing.
Insert You.
♤ — 𝓉𝓀𝒶𝓉𝒷 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉
iyayadonna, all rights reserved. — ⋆˚ ᓭི༏ᓯྀ ꩜ 。⋆ .ᐟ
Solivan Brugmansia x reader(kinda reader isnt in this tho), masturbation, waking it, Sol is freaky idk what else to put. This is very short btw deal with it also I refuse to proofread anything
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Sol meant to return the notebook.
He really did! When he found it lying on your desk in art class, he had strictly pure intentions when picking it up. Well, mostly pure intentions. Can you blame the guy? I mean, he really is innocent in all this. Curiosity got the best of him, and he just happened to open the notebook.
He expected to see some doodles, maybe a few full fledged drawings. So imagine his surprise when he saw your name written right next to his last name. His heart started beating so fast, he swears it almost exploded. Sol took a breath, and shoved the book in his bag. His self control slipping as he held the bag over his shoulders and kept his head down through the hall.
His steps were firm and purposeful as he weaved through the crowd, making a beeline for the bathroom. Sol had chosen the gender neutral bathroom, given its the only single person one. He lets out a breath as he steps in and locks the door. He leans against the wall and slides down it to sit on the floor. The notebook is pulled from his bag, and on instinct he opens it up. He just stares at the names. You want his last name.
He doesn't even realize he's unbuckling his belt and freeing his cock. He grasps it and bites his lip, slowly giving it a few pumps. "Fuck pumpkin.. see what you do to me..?" Sol mutters, squeezing his eyes shut as he swirls his thumb around his tip, smearing his precum on it. He gives his head a light squeeze before stroking himself a few more times.
His other hand is on the notebook, his thumb grazing the area where you had written his last name. He bites his lip, knowing he can't be as vocal as he'd like to be. He throws his head back, picking up the pace. "Fucking shit-" Solivan huffs as he cums into his hand and onto the notebook. He clenches his teeth and gives himself a few more pumps before buckling belt and washing his hands. He looks at the notebook and sighs.
"Sorry pumpkin." He murmurs as if you'd be able to hear him. He shuts the notebook and puts it in his bag. You wouldn't want it back in this condition anyway.
Tag: Sol x reader, fluff
Warning: grammar & spelling
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You yawn again. Dragging your feet into the library like you’re floating more than walking. Your body’s heavy. Eyes sting from lack of sleep. Your brain's practically mush. It's been a long day. Honestly? You need somewhere quiet to crash. Just for a second.
Of course, he’s there.
Same spot, like always. Slouched over the desk, head dipped, dark clothes blending into the dim light of the corner. Pencil dancing lazily in his fingers. He doesn’t even blink when the door creaks open. Doesn’t move when your bag thumps softly against the floor.
Just a glance. Quick. Dismissive. Until he really sees you.
His eyes flick up again. Sharper this time. He clocks your posture. Your sluggish steps. Your barely-open eyes. His gaze lingers like it’s magnetized to the curve of your face. The slump in your shoulders. The way your hoodie’s collar slides off one side. And when you drag your tired body toward him, he straightens up.
You stand beside the table for a moment. Rubbing your eye with the back of your hand. You know there’s a seat beside him. But right now you want comfort. Not a cold wooden chair.
So you act on instinct.
Without saying a word, you swing one leg over and settle yourself right on his lap.
His breath stops. Like someone hit mute on his entire system. Arms frozen mid-motion. Eyes blown wide for half a second before he forces them away. Like he’s afraid looking too long might give something away. You shift to get comfortable. You feel it. His legs twitching beneath you. Fingers gripping the edge of the table so tight his knuckles go pale.
"Hope you don’t mind." You mumble sleepily. Leaning your chest against his chest. Head tucking under his chin like it’s your usual spot. Hands drapes over his shoulder.
He doesn’t answer. Can’t.
Because right now, Sol’s fighting for his damn life.
Your scent fills his lungs with every breath. Warm. Soft. Intoxicating. Your weight against him is driving him insane. Every movement. Every sigh you make. Vibrates through his body like static electricity.
He tilts his head down slightly. His nose brushes against your hair.
A low sound escapes him. Barely a whisper of a groan. He doesn’t know whether to hold you or dig his nails into the table to ground himself.
You shift again. Just slightly.
And he’s losing it.
His head tips back, eyes briefly closing as he tries to collect himself.
"Fuck..." He mutters under his breath. The sound of the air shifting in his lungs feels like a weight, and the ceiling above him seems to mock him as his mind races. His hands are shaking slightly, but he refuses to let you see it.
You hum sleepily. "What was that?"
He clears his throat. “Nothing. Just… stay still.”
His words are strained, like he’s trying to convince both of you, but more so himself. He doesn’t trust himself to say more. The feeling of your body against his, your weight pressing down in the most deliciously torturous way, is sending heat spiraling through him.
You hum, a lazy, contented sound, and you nuzzle further into him. Your head buries into his chest, and your breath, soft and warm, flows over his neck. He swallows hard. His throat feels tight. Every shift you make is a reminder of how close you are, how dangerously close.
"Mm. Okay." You mumble, your voice dripping with exhaustion, unaware of how it rips through him.
Sol knows it’s wrong. You probably don’t even realize what you’re doing to him. But he can't stop it.
His hands, the ones that had been trembling at the edges of the table, now drift. Slowly. Hesitantly. Until it finds its place on your hip. His fingers curl there like he's testing if this is real. If you're really letting him hold you like this.
He refuses to move anymore than that, unwilling to risk even a slight twitch, because he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself.
Taking in a slow breath, trying to steady himself, his mind is all about the way you feel against him, how soft and warm and perfect you are there. Chest tightens, and heart races in a way that doesn’t make sense. Right now, all that control feels like it’s slipping.
"So cute... and all mine"
If you don’t move for the next ten minutes?
Well… don’t blame him.
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Art & characters from The Kid at the Back, created by Fantasia Kitt.
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His accessories are always calling your attention, practically begging for some TLC (request is from this lovely nonnie <3)
solivan brugmansia x fem!reader | 800+ wc, fluff, suggestive towards the end but nothing explicit, kissing
note: possible mistake on the piercing count for him? some pictures of him have different amounts of piercings so feel free to correct me, i can always change the numbers !! title is from ‘ever (foreign flag)’ by team sleep
masterlist read on ao3
“One, two, three, four…”
The numbers faded into a murmur as you continued counting the amount of piercings he had. Your thumb brushed against his ear, coming across different shapes and sizes of jewelry. To say you were fascinated was an understatement, his fashion was part of the reason you were so attracted to him.
You were sitting criss cross applesauce across from him on your bed, having put his hair into a low ponytail just a few minutes ago. Lot of strands from the upper layer still managed to fall out, but they didn’t really get in your way, they simply framed the new light of your life.
“Eight on your ears.” You eventually concluded proudly, missing the lovesick look Sol was giving you.
Your gaze was now drawn to his pretty lips. They used to be chapped before you became his girlfriend. Now, they were soft. Kissable. Plush. Enticing, like a pillow inviting yours against them.
He used to get so flustered when he caught you staring at his lips that he would bring a hand up to cover his face, giving you a couple of shy peeks before he calmed down. Seems he was getting more and more used to your affection now.
You gently tapped each steel ring. “Nine, ten.”
Maybe you were a little too excited, you were practically gushing. “They’re so cool! Do you sleep with them all on?”
“I–“
“Where’d you get them done?”
“Well–“
“Which one hurt the most?”
Your stream of questions came out all in one go, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. The rare sound and the feeling of his body shaking under yours snapped you out of it.
“Sorry, too much?” You didn’t mean your apology, obviously.
“No, it’s fine,” he said between quiet laughter, giving your cheek a pinch. “You’re so cute…”
He called you that a lot. And beautiful. And gorgeous. And pretty. And lovely. And stunning. But the term he always came back to at the end of the day was ‘cute.’ You’d have to watch out for that cuteness aggression of his, it could strike at any time.
“Sooo?” With raised brows, you prompted him to answer.
He wasn’t much of a talker, but it came easily when he was with you. With everyone else, he usually only gave a five word response maximum. You’re special.
“I take them off before sleeping unless I forget, one time I woke up without a couple of them and I…learned my lesson. I did two of the ear ones myself, and got everything else at a piercer in the mall. My second lip piercing hurt the most ‘cause I got it right after the first.”
One of these days, you’d suggest getting matching jewelry. It could be anything. A necklace, earrings…knowing him, he’d like it.
“They look good on you.” You tell him. So good that sometimes you stayed up late at night wondering how his lip piercings would feel traveling all over your skin.
“In that case, maybe I should get more. Any suggestions?”
“I think an eyebrow piercing would really suit you. But I dunno, it might get caught in your hair since you usually have it down.”
“I can clip it back while it heals.”
Smiling, you place a hand on his shoulder so you could lean in real close. You started with his ears, placing a kiss over every single one of his piercings. You swore you felt him shiver, his hand reached for the back of your head. So his ears were sensitive, noted.
Then, his lips. Yours met his twice, just something sweet. You whispered your explanation against them. “Ten kisses for ten piercings. Fitting, right?”
“Yeah…” He sounded dazed. Now who was the cute one?
You couldn’t just stop there. You coyly reached for his choker. “I also like this.”
His cheeks were already red, but this time, he seemed more vulnerable than usual. He wasn’t going to be ready to take it off in front of you anytime soon, if ever, so he was glad you didn’t find it weird. “You do?”
“Mhm, it brings a lot of attention to your neck.”
Goosebumps found a home on his skin, his breathing grew heavier as you continued toying with it.
You had way too much power over him, he had to find a way to balance the scales. “You…You didn’t finish counting my piercings.”
Now that piqued your curiosity. “What do you mean?”
He took both your hands and placed them atop his chest. One palm felt his heartbeat, the other didn’t. You simply blinked until you explored a little and registered the hardness you felt.
“Oh…” Your stomach did a flip. And suddenly, the temperature in your room matched that of a sauna.
“Yup.” He was full on grinning now, glad he got you speechless for once, though his blush hadn’t died down one bit. “Wanna see them, pumpkin?”
If words of reassurance alone can’t cure your boyfriend’s jealousy, maybe throwing in a makeout session can help.
solivan brugmansia x gn!reader | MDNI, 1.5k wc, kissing, jealousy, brief mention of him kissing reader while they're drugged so non-consensual touching, mentions of masturbation, he ends up cumming in his pants, let there be no typos
note: hi so i’m kind of obsessed with him </3 comments and reblogs are always appreciated! title is from the song ‘snakelike (the stars collide)’
masterlist read on ao3 requests open
“You’ve been quieter than usual.”
No response. You knew your boyfriend wasn’t rowdy, but the walk to your house after leaving campus was always filled with enjoyable chit chats at the very least. Tugging on his sleeve, your feet came to a pause as you turned to him.
“Tell me what’s on your mind, please?”
God knew he couldn’t deny his sweetheart’s plea, not in a million years.
“Ichabod.” Okay, so there was some venom in his voice. Just a little. He had to hold back from not seething the name out like it was a slur.
You knew they didn’t exactly get along. Crowe was friendly towards everyone, but Sol seemed reluctant to be polite to him. Every time they were in the same space, you kinda wanted to die to avoid the awkwardness of the tension.
“Crowe? What about him?”
“He obviously likes you.” And he knew you liked him back at one point, he’d been watching you for a long time. And though you've been a couple for three weeks now, the uncertainty of it all still hadn’t left.
He trusted you. Your best friend on the other hand…well, not so much. If only you knew how extreme his jealousy could be—you were lucky Crowe wasn’t six feet under already. It would only take one mistake for you to be attending a funeral. It’s fine, he’d be there to console you. Nonono, bad Sol, don’t even think about it.
“What?! No he doesn’t!” Maybe you shouldn’t be raising your voice, he seemed upset enough as is. You sighed, muttering an apology before continuing. “We’ve been friends for years, I seriously don’t think he sees me like that. And even if he did…you’re my boyfriend. So he’d just have to deal with it, I guess.”
Oh. He liked that answer. Ichabod suffering emotionally because his dream lover was out of reach? It was a wet dream come true.
Taking a peek at him, you noticed the upturn of his lips. “That certainly made you cheer up.”
“You always make me happy, pumpkin. I just don’t like him.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t.”
“That’s not a good reason. He’s my friend and he’s important to me, so can you at least try to act civil around him? He always tries to talk to you and you just…glare at him.”
Now he was a little scared. Biting down on his lip, he mulled over your request. The last thing he wanted was for you to break up with him after he had finally won you over against all odds. “Fine, I’ll try.”
“Thank you,” you held onto his hand and gave it a squeeze, one that he returned as you both started walking again.
Three blocks and a flight of stairs later, the comfort of your apartment lured you both to the couch, backpacks discarded onto the floor without care. He sat right next to you, and you curled up against him, pulling your phone out your pocket.
“We always come to my house, I wanna see what yours looks like too.”
“I like your house more but…sure, just let me know what day.” Yeah, so he had time to hide everything he’d stolen from you.
Ding.
His eyes flicked to the notification with a certain someone’s profile picture. His expression soured, and he looked away with a petulant huff. Clearly, he wasn’t over it. Not that he’d ever be, but you thought it was just a phase that would go away with some reassurance. How naive of you.
“Sol…”
He wasn’t budging, nose in the air as he waited for you to read the message. Or well, that’s what he was expecting anyway.
“You’re so stubborn.” With a sigh, you toss your phone aside and instead move to straddle his lap to get his attention.
His shoulders stiffened immediately, and a certain area under his pants sprung to life like clockwork. He gulped, the tips of his ears turning red. He loved being under you, but that usually only happened in his fantasies late at night when he stroked himself with your undergarments.
“What am I gonna do with you?” Cupping his face with one hand, you let your thumb glide over his bottom lip. “I can’t have you getting jealous every other minute.”
“I can’t help it.” He murmured, arms finally relaxing and wrapping around your waist to tug you closer. Having you close wasn’t anything new, he was clingy to the core. It always felt different when you initiated it, though.
“I know…I just don’t want you feeling bad or insecure. I like you, I want to be with you.”
He grinned. “You promise?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Godyou’resosweetandbeautifulandfuckIwantyoutofuckme. From 0 to 100. His mind was already running rampant. You were sitting on him so prettily, how did he get this lucky? His eyes were drawn to your lips, his stomach felt warm now.
“Tell me I’m yours and that you’re mine.”
You really shouldn’t encourage his possessive behavior, but it was kinda…hot? You’d play along.
You leaned down, lips nearly brushing against his. “You’re mine, and I’m yours.”
His dick twitched. Before he had the chance to sigh dreamily, you kissed him. He whimpered pitifully and kissed back, already attempting to deepen it.
He had thought about getting a tongue piercing, but he wouldn’t be able to go weeks without kissing you now that he’d gotten a taste of what it was like. Though, maybe that torture would be worth it if it meant being able to make you feel good in the future.
An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Then, a bombardment of kisses a day must keep the psychologist away, it felt like all your problems had been washed away the minute your tongue met his.
His hands roamed your sides, squeezing whenever you tugged on his hair or bit down on his lip. In only five minutes, it went from slow and sensual to fast and needy.
Your living room was only ever filled with TV noises and conversations. Now, it was nothing but heavy breathing, shaky whines, and the sound of clothes rubbing against each other.
And shit—no, no, no—he was close to making a mess in his pants. “Waitwaitwait, slow down,” he pleaded, voice a pitch higher as he held onto your hips. How embarrassing would it be if he came so quickly from simply kissing? Maybe you’d think he’d only last two fucking seconds in bed (he probably would the first time, and he knew that).
“What’s wrong?” You ask breathlessly, eyes fluttering open to look at your boyfriend.
“Nothing, just…” He sat up straighter so he could dip his head down and press his lips against your neck. It felt infinitely better than doing so when you were limp like a ragdoll.
“Oh,” your eyes rolled back, your hand instinctively went to the back of his head to keep him in place. His cool piercings sent a shiver down your hot skin. Maybe if your mind wasn’t so busy spinning and seeing stars, you’d notice the ever so prominent bulge begging for attention against the side of your inner thigh.
“Does this feel good?” He asked before starting to gently suck on you. If he was lucky, he’d mark you up. For once, he was eager to see Crowe tomorrow. He’d be sure to wrap his arm around your shoulder and then lean down to press a kiss against the hickey you’d have after all this just to spite him.
“Uh huh…” Your sweet moans fanned against his ear.
He thought this would save him from cumming, but your reactions were just making it worse. There was no way out of it. His stomach was tensing, and his eyes were getting teary—this always happened. “Haa….haaa…”
For someone who usually had little to say, he was so loud. But you didn’t know what was happening in his body, not until it was too late.
“Oh fuck…” His forehead rested against your shoulder as his body shook, black nails digging into you like he needed you close to handle the waves of pleasure. Luckily for him, his words were unintelligible because of how fast he gritted it out. “Iloveyouiloveyoufuckiloveyou.”
You snapped out of your pleasure-induced dazed, hearing him pant heavily and slump against you. You stayed frozen, and moments later, he tipped his head back instead to get air.
“Did you just…”
Pressing your hands against his chest, you leaned back to get a better look. He did. Fuck he was pretty. Cheeks flushed. Lips swollen. Drool trickling down his chin. Brows furrowed. Eyelashes wet from tears.
You’d never been more turned on in your life. You hadn’t even touched him down there!
He opened his eyes, hiding his face with his shaky hand the second he saw you. “Fuck…I didn’t mean to. I was trying not to.”
You took his hand to pull it away, smiling at him. Geez, it was like you were proud of yourself, and he found it endearing rather than annoying.
“Um…I don’t think I have any spare pants for you. Or uh, you know.”
“…”
“I’ll get you a glass of water.”
“No, don’t leave yet.”
“I’m not leaving! The kitchen is literally right there.”
“Stay here.” He held you close, burying his head against your shoulder again and letting his temperature return to normal.
In which you find out who the person leaving you continuous love letters is and return the gesture
solivan brugmansia x gn!reader | 1.7k wc, fluff, reader is friendly, awkwardness, nervousness, hyugo’s very involved, deryl and geo (briefly, just in the background), tiny implication of masturbation if you squint
note: i felt a little iffy writing about lockers because they’re uni students but that’s how it is in the game so (ᵕ—ᴗ—) this was supposed to be out while most people were still in college (because i think people in the semester system are already out for break) but i didn’t make it in time </3 as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated
masterlist read on ao3
Lately, your existence has been put on the same pedestal as that of everything beautiful in the world.
You’ve been getting love letter after love letter ever since Valentine’s Day. At first, you thought it was some sort of misunderstanding—they got the wrong locker. It wasn’t until certain details in them were specific to you that you finally got the message across. This secret admirer really was yours.
You picked up on quirks in the handwriting after rereading them so many times. Separated letters frequently molded into random strings of cursive. The horizontal lines on the t’s are low, they look like upside down crosses.
If the writing itself wasn’t sweet enough, there were also doodles left on the margins and corners. Flowers, hearts, and oddly enough, pumpkins.
Life was more fun with romantic secrecy in the air.
Sometimes it was embarrassing, though. You’d trip, drop a paper, or miss a shot of a wrapper to a trash can—and your mind would immediately go to, did they see that?
The question hovered over your head for months like a cloud. Who are they?
—
“Don’t eat so close to me,” Sol mumbled to Hyugo, angling himself away as he continued writing. He didn’t want the wind to blow any crumbs onto his paper.
“Another letter? You’re so romantic, Sunny! It almost makes me lose my appetite.”
Yes and no. It was a letter for you, but essentially, it was just a draft for now.
“Do you think it’s working?” Sol asked with a sigh, vulnerability in his question.
“I don’t see why it wouldn’t. Have you seen their reaction to finding one in their locker?”
“A couple times.”
“And?”
“They were smiling.” Sol’s own answer prompted a faint one to form on his face.
Love and commitment wove through each and every word until the end result was practically a written serenade for you, and only you.
—
Whether by sheer luck or fate, you didn’t have to do any snooping to find who your secret admirer is. The answer came to you.
“Pass your homework towards the front of the class.”
Stuck in the very first row, you patiently waited until you were tapped on the shoulder and given a stack of completed homework.
As you were making the stack look presentable, you noticed a familiar looking ‘t’ on the title of the last paper. No way. Was the person sending love letters in this class? They had to be sitting at the very back if so.
Knowing their name wouldn’t help, you didn’t know anybody in this class because group activities weren’t required.
Acting nonchalant, you stretched your back from side to side and took the opportunity to look behind you. But you couldn’t really see because of all the people in your way.
Next idea. You “accidentally” dropped your pencil and leaned over in your chair to catch a glimpse.
Their head rested snugly against their forearm, you couldn’t see their face. Black and dark green long sleeves, that’s all you were getting. Okay, you could wait until class ended for the mystery to be revealed.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
The clock mocked your excitement for approximately fifty-five torturous minutes.
Class ended, students scrambled.
After quickly gathering your things into your arms, you (not very discreetly) turned around. There was no reason to, there were two doors and you usually went out the front one since it was close to you.
But only in this way were you able to fully look at the person who’s been making even the shittiest of weeks feel better.
Tall, pierced ears and lips, eyelashes that look long even from a distance…
Your secret admirer is handsome in a pretty sort of way. Even so, he looks like someone who would give his crush a necklace with his blood in it rather than lovey-dovey letters.
You must’ve been awe-struck for too long, time slowed.
As soon as he caught on to your staring (gawking), he immediately walked out of the room, leaving his friend talking to no one. “…and then–huh? Sunny? Sunny! How rude…”
“No fair. You have long legs, you walk faster than me.” Hyugo eventually caught up to Sol. Their lockers were next to one another’s.
Sol’s body felt hot. You had looked at him with intent for the first time ever, not just an accidental glance or something. He tried to compose himself as he opened his locker to put one of his books away.
Were you finally noticing him? He had so much love to offer, all you had to do was embrace the soul that was so willing to give it to you.
“…I have to use the restroom.” He most certainly does not, at least not in the way it’s intended to be used.
In the midst of being over the moon, he failed to see that you were nearby.
You know where his locker is.
Now there’s only two things left to do.
—
i. WRITE HIM A LETTER
Now back at home, you felt insecure. Just a bit. All his letters were beautiful: nice expensive looking paper, sentences all in pen (somehow he never made a single mistake, there were never any words scribbled out), and lived in envelopes that had pretty dark red wax seals prior to you opening them.
Well. You didn’t have any envelopes. Your paper was college ruled with three holes on the left. Your pen was gel-point and smeared when you wrote too fast. And, you didn’t have any white-out in case you made a mistake.
“This is silly.” You tell yourself, shaking away your doubts and picking the pen back up.
You didn’t harbor the same feelings that he did to you, how could you, when you barely came to know of his existence? Either way, his letters always left you feeling giddy. And who knows, maybe a potential future relationship awaited you.
So, you got to writing.
ii. DELIVER IT TO HIS LOCKER (GONE WRONG)
Time passed by ever so slowly the next day, it always did when you had something to look forward to. Butterflies ran rampant in your stomach, concentrating in class was hard, especially the one you shared with him.
You waited until the end of school, the letter already in your hand as you (hesitantly) made your way there. If anything, it looked like you were holding a folded graded assignment with a big giant F on it, nobody would suspect it.
“Hey, maybe that’s another letter for you Geo! Your locker’s full again isn’t it? Have you even gone through them?”
“Be quiet.”
They couldn’t be talking about you. They just couldn’t.
Thankfully, those guys turned a corner. It would’ve been awkward if you all kept walking the same way. And who’s Geo, anyway? Is he really that popular?
You leaned against the wall, your other hand preoccupied by your phone as you waited for the after school crowd to die out. Checking the time, you had a tutoring session upstairs in ten minutes.
Eventually, the only footsteps you could hear were distant. Putting your phone away, you swallowed your nerves and approached his locker.
Well, here goes nothing.
You start slipping it in.
Somehow, your body flinches before your hearing processes anything.
“Woah! Is that a letter for Sunny?”
Shit.
Wide-eyed, you looked over. The letter was still in your hands, only the tip of it was rammed into the locker ventilation hole.
Day one of trying to mimic your secret admirer and you already failed.
Just your luck, his best friend was here too. Even so, you could only focus on him. His expression matched yours, but his was from being incredibly flustered rather than embarrassment from being caught.
You didn’t know what to say, only one word slipped from your lips.
“…Hi.”
Hi.
Hi?
Hi?!
“Hi!” Hyugo greeted you back with a grin and wave, catching your attention for a split second. Like the good best friend he was, he nudged Sol your way.
Looks like he was too stunned to talk, you’d have to break the ice more. All the words he held right now, you were sure you’d already read them all.
You brought the letter back down.
“I may have…figured out that you were the person sending me letters. Unless I’m wrong! And in that case I can leave and…”
“How’d you figure out it was me?”
Surprisingly, his voice is soft.
“Because of your t’s.”
“…My t’s?”
“Yeah. You write them differently. Not differently in a bad way! Just…I’ve never really seen anyone write them the way you do.”
One of his brows raised. You thought you offended him until he smiled. That alone put you at ease.
“This is for you,” you handed the letter to him. His fingertips briefly kissed your skin.
The paper didn’t so much as crinkle in his hold, he was being gentle. You were grateful he wasn’t bold enough to start reading it on the spot, you would die.
He opened his locker with his free hand and fetched a crumpled-looking paper. He stammered a bit over his words as he held it out to you. “It’s…It’s not done yet.”
It was a draft full of scribbles and crossed out words. So, he did make mistakes. Just that he worked on a draft before putting everything onto the fancier paper. Somehow, that just made his gestures all the sweeter.
“I think this one will be my favorite,” you tell him, no sarcasm present.
You were kind and welcoming, exactly what he needed in a world such as this.
"I love-" Sol's overly strong confession was interrupted by Hyugo elbowing him.
Finding a clock on the wall, you curse under your breath. “I have to go catch a tutoring session but it was nice finally meeting you. What’s your name?”
“You can just call me Sol.”
“See you tomorrow, Sol!”
You repeated his name under your breath over and over to commit it to memory as you walked away. “Sol, Sol, Sol…”
He was stuck in place, never taking his gaze off you until you turned the corner. Your voice echoed in his head, a catchy melody he would never tire of.
See you tomorrow, you said. Like you would be talking to him from now on. Like you wouldn’t be put off by him casually approaching you. Like you were friends now.
Hyugo lightly pinched Sol’s arm, he got no response.
Sol looked down at the letter, he was holding something sacred—you put thought into it, something in your possession (your pen) had touched it, your fingerprints were all over it. Does this count as indirect hand-holding?
He needed to read it, and he would, once in private.
“Let me see, let me see!”
“Touch it and I’ll kill you.”
“…Jeez, and then who’ll clean up all your messes?”
꩜ – SOLIVAN BRUGMANSIA :: what happens when you put sol in the friendzone?
1/2 .ᐟ.ᐟ – (18+) :: content – tkatb sol x gn!reader, yandere, obsessive/possessive dynamics, toxicity, dubcon/non-con, stalking, implied somnophilia
friendzoned!sol who is too sweet about the fact that you’d told him you weren’t ready and that you just wanted to be friends, just until you figure out how it is you feel exactly. even when he’d poured his heart and soul out into his confession.
in fact, sol liked to think he was barely heartbroken — sure, he wanted you badly, wanted to spend every waking hour holding you hand and cooking you meals and cuddling you to sleep, but he also just wanted you period.
and this wasn’t technically a no. it’s just a maybe. and for you? sol was nothing but absolutely patient.
friendzoned!sol who quickly learns that he hates being hyper-aware of where he stands, which is about 500 light years too far from where he really wants to stand. he’s fucking patient. he’s sweet. he never oversteps, hugs you and lets you go the minute you loosen up, buys you food and walks you home like a good friend. but he hates how he has no right to hate when you’re not with him.
when you’re staring at anyone else. sol thinks those eyes are his.
friendzoned!sol who needs you to run to him when no one else understands you — because no one else does. so he’s always waiting by his phone, preparing your favorite snacks for when you call him crying, asking him to come over because you were just so alone. he’s never going to make you wait any longer than five minutes; sol is at your doorstep before you can cry or bury your face into anything (or anyone) else.
friendzoned!sol hates himself for how selfish he is. in his defense, you’re torturing him without even realizing it; you’ve become so affectionate ever since you’d told him you just want to be friends right now, and part of him thinks it’s because you feel guilty. in a way, it’s endearing; you’ve always been too sweet, too kind to him. but whenever you hug him, whenever your hair tickles the skin of his neck or your eyes beam back at him, he loses focus.
he’ll inhale lungfuls of your perfume when you’re crying into his shoulder, as if trying to memorize the scent; he’ll offer you his sweaters and his t-shirts when you’re cold because he cares (and wants people to know who you really belong to). he’ll steal a kiss from your cheek when you’re upset under the guise of comforting you.
sol knows it’s selfish, especially when you’re so gentle, allowing yourself to be so vulnerable around him — but if he can’t have you yet, he’ll settle. he’ll be the puppy lapping at whatever scraps you graciously give him.
friendzoned!sol, who grows braver, playing around with the line seperating friendship with something else, as you learn to trust him more.
he sees the way you seem to smile more when he comes to sit with you. when he invites you to skip classes with him. when he’s the one staying with you until you fall asleep after walking you back to your apartment. and he’s starting to say more — you deserve to know you’re beautiful, deserve to be drawn in your focused stupor in the classroom, or in the dark when you’re asleep and your hair is all tangled up.
you deserve to be needed, not wanted. and sol needs you. badly. even if you’ll only have him as a friend (for now!)
friendzoned!sol, who’s more than friends with you for a few hours at a time; that is, when you’re asleep. he’s not just your fucking friend, not when his fingertips are cradling your cheeks as you snore quietly, tracing your jawline like you’re made of porcelain.
sol can’t possibly be just your friend when he’s the one in bed next to you every night — even when you don’t realize it.
even when you’re out cold. he wishes he didn’t have to knock you out to finally be your lover, but again, he’s settling for what he’ll get.
friendzoned!sol, who dreams of being more as he presses his nose into the crook of your neck and inhales. as he listens to the soft sound of your breathing — inhale, exhale — as if it’s gospel. as he presses soft, open-mouthed kisses to the space between your jawline and your neck, gripping your waist tight with his fingertips to ground himself.
“fuck,” sol all but whimpers, engulfed in your aroma. “haah. you smell perfect. my best friend.”
it’s all your fault, really. how could sol just be your friend when you’re everything he’s ever wanted – good enough to eat –always pressed against him so delectably like a missing puzzle piece?
he’s greedy as he tugs your resting frame closer into his chest, unwrapping the sheets gently and revealing your collarbone beneath your blanket. sol’s breath hitches.
his head dips down, tongue licking a steady stripe, tracing the shape of your bones, all the way up to your lips. and then he’s sucking at your mouth, moaning at the way you hum groggily without stirring awake.
would you dream of him? would you make those sounds for him and only him?
fuck.
friendzoned!sol who’ll always be your friend.
who’ll always be sweet on you, who’ll be at your beck and call as long as you have the ability to tell him. and since he’s just such a good friend, he’ll always be there to tuck you back into your blanket and press soft kisses to your forehead as he lets you drift back into deeper sleep. he’ll always make sure he’s as quiet as possible when he’s climbing back out of your window.
friendzoned!sol, who’s just your friend — until you realize that you always have been and always will be only his.
@ ttakdoll, 2026
got sidetracked writing something else so here's a short for my beautiful boy !
amandla
kianamaiart
dailybridgerton
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s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
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