loquita :3

i write sometimes my twitter is the same user :3 parasocial qolo :P esp/eng | 20 semi active sorry if i don’t get to your req :( https://alterspring.org/@L0QU1T44

[l0qu1t44]

full masterlist

all updated from newest to oldest :P

yaoi :3

drabbles

smut

comfort/fluff

angst

#loquita yaps :3 - answering asks about alex + my thoughts, headcannons, etc :P

pics of alex <3

links

alterspring - quicker and shorter responses or just to yap :3

zaqa

strawpage - i need to make a new one 😓

twitter - where im most active :P

requests

i don’t mind requests but pls keep in mind that i have gotten busier with school and sometimes i just don’t have the energy to write, so pls don’t expect me to get anything done in a timely manner :P

anyways that’s it, if you have any suggestions or if i need to fix something, you can send me an ask :3 but i hope y’all like this masterlist and find it helpful <3

[l0qu1t44]

hii are you planning to write anything about 2019!quackity?? I love ur fanfics a lot I just wished u posted more :p

making out with 2019!alex for the first time <3

You’re both sitting there a little too still at first, knees almost touching, the closeness making Alex’s room feel smaller. He keeps glancing at your lips and then back up to your eyes like he’s trying to build up his courage, his fingers twitching where they rest on his thighs before he finally leans in just a little. Hesitant, testing, giving you enough space to pull away if you wanted to.

But you don’t.

You lean in too, mirroring him without even realizing it, and that first kiss is barely anything. Just the softest brush of lips, quick and unsure, like both of you are asking a question neither of you knows how to say out loud.

It lingers anyway, even after you pull back, because now you’ve crossed that invisible line and there’s no pretending your heart didn’t just start racing a little faster. He lets out this tiny breath, almost a nervous laugh, the faintest hint of that lisp catching on the edge of it. It makes your chest tighten because it’s him, it’s so him, and you lean in again before you can overthink it.

The second kiss lasts longer.

Still soft, still careful, but there’s intention now. Your lips press together properly this time, adjusting instinctively, figuring it out in real time. You feel the slight unfamiliar texture of his braces when your lips shift against his, something you’d wondered about before but never really found out until now.

It doesn’t ruin anything, not even close. If anything it makes the moment feel more real, more specific to him, and you find yourself smiling a little into the kiss before it deepens without either of you consciously deciding it should.

His hand lifts, hesitates midair for a second like he’s asking permission without words. Then it settles gently at your side, fingers curling just slightly into your shirt as if he needs something to anchor himself.

You respond without thinking, your own hands finding his shoulders, then sliding up toward his neck. You feel the warmth of his skin, the faint tension there as he leans closer, closing the space between you completely.

The rhythm builds naturally, small pecks turning into longer kisses, pauses growing shorter each time you pull back, like neither of you wants to fully break away anymore. When your lips part just enough, you both hesitate for half a second before trying something new.

It’s clumsy at first, unsure, but curious enough to keep going, adjusting, learning. The whole thing is a quiet exchange of trial and instinct that somehow works despite neither of you knowing what you’re doing.

You shift closer without realizing it, your knees brushing, then pressing. He reacts immediately, like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. His hands tighten just a little at your waist as he guides you forward, slow but certain, until you’re halfway into his space.

Your balance tips toward him, and there’s this brief, breathless pause where your faces are still close, your foreheads almost touching, both of you just… feeling it.

Then you climb onto his lap.

It happens gradually, not some sudden movement, more like a continuation of everything else. Your body follows the pull between you, and his hands help, steadying you. He guides you into place like he can’t quite believe this is actually happening but he’s not about to let it stop.

Once you’re there it changes everything, the closeness, the way there’s no space left to overthink, just warmth and movement and the quiet sound of both of you trying to keep your breathing under control.

The kisses deepen again, faster this time, less hesitant, like something has clicked into place. The small sounds you both try to hold back start slipping out anyway, soft and unplanned. The kind that make you both pause for half a second before continuing like nothing happened, even though everything feels different now.

When you finally pull back, it’s slow, reluctant. Your lips brush his one last time before you lean away just enough to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling a little too fast, and for a second there’s just the sound of breathing, the closeness still there even without the kiss.

That’s when he makes that sound.

A small, quiet, almost involuntary whine. Barely louder than a breath, but it hits you instantly. His grip on your waist tightens at the same time, fingers pressing in just enough to keep you from moving any further away, like even that tiny bit of distance is already too much for him.

“Don’t-” he starts, his voice soft, a little uneven. That slight lisp catching again in a way that makes the word blur just a little. He swallows, trying again, quieter this time, “don’t go…”

There’s something in the way he says it that makes your heart stutter, because it’s not dramatic, not exaggerated, just honest.

Before you can even respond properly, he’s leaning in again, closing the gap, kissing you like he needs it, like stopping was the worst idea either of you had.

From that moment on, Alex becomes completely addicted.

It becomes a pattern, something that builds between you day by day, every moment you get alone turning into the same magnetic pull. The same barely contained urgency, and each time feels a little less uncertain, a little more natural, like you’re both memorizing each other piece by piece.

He gets clingier about it too.

Not in a way that pushes you away, but in the way he always seems to find you first. Like he’s been waiting forever, even though you just saw each other the day before.

His hand slips around your wrist or your waist the second he’s close enough, pulling you into some quiet corner before you can even say hi properly.

Even between classes, it’s quick, rushed. The constant risk of someone walking by making everything sharper, more intense.

He presses you back against the wall just enough to steal a kiss, then another, and another. Each one a little deeper than the last like he’s trying to make up for the time you weren’t right next to him. His lips trail briefly along your neck when he gets the chance, just enough to make you laugh under your breath because of how eager he is.

“Alex,” you whisper once, half laughing, half warning. Your hands pushing lightly at his shoulders even though you’re not really trying to stop him, “slow down, someone’s gonna see-”

He just shakes his head slightly, leaning in again, his forehead brushing yours for a second before his lips find yours once more. It’s softer this time but no less insistent, and when he pulls back it’s only far enough to murmur, “Just… stay. A little longer.”

There’s that sound again, quieter now but still there at the edges of his voice. That small, needy pull that makes it clear he means it. His hands tighten just slightly where they rest on you, like he’s holding onto something he doesn’t want to lose, even for a minute.

And every time, you do stay.

You never can say no to him. Not when he looks at you with those brown eyes you fell in love with.

Even if it’s just for a few seconds more, even if your heart is racing because you know he’s right and wrong at the same time. Getting caught would be a disaster, but walking away from him feels worse. Like a quiet kind of withdrawal that settles in the moment you put distance between you.

Because the truth is, you’re just as addicted to him as he is to you.

<3

[l0qu1t44]

emo and obsessive sebaslex <3

3.3k words, smut, mentions of self harm and blood

versión en español

In the dim glow of Sebas’s room, the world outside blurred away. No streams, no chats, no prying eyes. Just Sebas and Alex, the two of them locked away in their own little bubble.

Two boys tangled up on the edge of the bed, mouths crashing together in a sloppy, hungry kiss that had been building for hours. Their lips slid wet and messy, tongues pushing deep and uncoordinated. Black eyeliner already smudged faintly at the corners of their eyes from the heat of it all, making them look even more wrecked than usual.

It had started earlier that evening when Sebas had convinced Alex to try it out. He’d held Alex’s face gently between his palms, thumbs brushing the line of his jaw as he tilted his head. The room had gone quiet, nothing but the soft scratch of the pencil against his skin and the sound of their breathing.

Too close.

Dangerously close.

Alex’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow, nerves twisting in his stomach while his gaze dropped helplessly to Sebas’s mouth, making his own lips part on instinct.

Sebas noticed. He paused, locking eyes with him for one charged second.

“You okay?”

His voice came out husky, thick with tension. No teasing, just raw want wrapped in gentleness.

Alex managed a tiny nod, breath shaky.

“Yeah.”

Sebas had gone back to the task without another word, concentrated and silent again, but the air between them had never quite settled.

Now their hands couldn’t stay still. Alex’s fingers dug into the front of Sebas’s shirt, bunching the fabric as he pulled him closer, while Sebas’s palms roamed hot and needy over Alex’s chest, sliding under the hem of his shirt to trace the skin of his stomach.

They marked each other softly, nails scraping lightly down their ribs, thumbs pressing into their sides, mouths breaking apart just long enough to gasp before crashing back together.

Every touch felt electric, breathless, like they were starving and couldn’t get enough.

Even with the hesitation still flickering in Alex’s chest, that familiar guilty twist about how good this felt, how much he wanted it despite the quiet voice in the back of his head telling him it’s wrong, he couldn’t stop himself from arching into Sebas’s hands.

His back curved, pressing his body flush against Sebas, a soft, involuntary sound slipping out when his fingers dipped lower, teasing the waistband of Alex’s pants.

Sebas broke the kiss just enough to trail his lips along Alex’s jaw, voice low and rough against the shell of his ear. “Fuck, look at you… so pretty like this. You have no idea how good you look right now.”

Alex’s breath hitched, cheeks burning under his gaze. “Sebas… I- I don’t know if-”

“You do know,” Sebas murmured, gentle but insistent, one hand sliding up to cup the back of Alex’s neck while the other pressed flat against his chest, feeling the frantic thud of his heart. He kissed the corner of Alex’s mouth, slow and coaxing, then pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.

“Tell me. I can feel how much you want this. Say it for me, baby. What do you want?”

Alex whimpered against Sebas’s lips, the sound shaky and needy as another slow roll of Sebas’s hips ground them together. His hands trembled where they gripped Sebas’s shoulders, but he arched again anyway, chasing the friction, the heat, the way Sebas’s thigh fit perfectly between his legs.

“C’mon,” Sebas whispered, voice filled with that same careful tension, thumb stroking soothing circles just below Alex’s ear.

“I know you feel it too. Tell me how good it is. Admit it… you want my hands on you like this. Want me to keep going?”

Alex’s lashes fluttered, smudged liner making his eyes look even darker, and another soft whimper escaped him as he pressed closer, lips brushing Sebas’s with every ragged breath.

“I… I want it,” Alex finally admitted, voice cracking on the words, still hesitant, that guilty heat twisting low in his gut even as his body betrayed him.

“Fuck, Sebas, I want your hands on me. Don’t stop.”

Sebas’s mouth curved into a slow, hungry smile against his, one hand sliding up to thread through Alex’s dark hair while the other kept stroking teasing circles over his hip.

“That’s it, baby. Good boy. I knew you’d say it.”

He kissed him deeper, tongue sliding slow and filthy, tasting the faint salt of their shared desperation as their bodies rocked together in that same needy rhythm, hips grinding in lazy, deliberate circles that made Alex’s breath stutter.

They kept going like that for long, heated minutes, hands roaming hotter, mouths wetter, teeth nipping at swollen lips and jawlines, until Sebas reached blindly toward his nightstand without breaking the kiss. His fingers closed around the small blade he kept there, pulling it out slow and deliberate, the sound echoing softly in the quiet room.

Alex stayed glued to him, chest pressed tight, unable to pull away even as his eyes flicked down to the blade.

“Sebas… what are you doing?” he asked quietly, heart hammering against Sebas’s palm.

Sebas’s eyes never left his, dark and intense behind the faint smudges of his own eyeliner.

“Gonna show you exactly how much I want you,” he murmured, voice low and steady.

“Watch me.”

He brought the knife to his own wrist first, pressing the sharp edge. Alex watched, transfixed and breathless, as Sebas carved slow, careful letters. His name, A-L-E-X, into his skin. Thin lines of bright red bloomed instantly down the curve of his wrist.

“This is fucked up,” Alex breathed, voice strained.

But he didn’t move, didn’t pull back, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Sebas’s blood and the way his chest rose and fell with each deliberate stroke.

Sebas set the knife aside for a second, cupping Alex’s flushed cheek with his free hand and pulling him into a slow, intimate kiss. Their lips met soft and deep.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Sebas whispered against his mouth between kisses, gentle and coaxing.

“You’re safe with me. I’d never hurt you more than you can take. You trust me, right?”

Alex hesitated, face burning hot, lips parted. His breath shook. Then he nodded, small and shaky.

“Yeah… I do.”

Sebas’s smile softened, eyes locked on his. He picked the knife back up and finished the last letter on his own wrist, then brought it to his lips and licked the fresh blood clean in one slow drag of his tongue, holding eye contact the whole time. The sight made something dark and twisted twist low in Alex’s stomach.

Then Sebas turned the blade toward Alex’s wrist, fingers gentle against his soft skin.

“Your turn, pretty boy.”

Alex hissed softly the second the edge bit in. Sebas carving his own name in careful, shallow strokes.

S-E-B-A-S

“Does it hurt?” Sebas asked, thumb stroking soothingly along Alex’s forearm.

“Just a little,” Alex admitted, breath catching, but he didn’t flinch away.

“You can handle it,” Sebas reassured softly, finishing the last letter before setting the knife down.

“You’re doing so good for me.”

He leaned in and licked the blood from Alex’s fresh cuts in one long, deliberate stroke, tongue hot and wet against the stinging skin, never breaking eye contact.

Then he kissed the wounds, soft, reverent presses of his lips right over the bleeding letters, soothing the burn with gentle touches that pulled another shaky whimper from Alex’s throat.

Alex looked back at him, he couldn’t pull away when Sebas looked at him like that, hungry and raw with open desire, like he’d burn the whole world down just to keep him.

“You’re crazy,” Alex whispered, eyes half lidded, lips parted and trembling.

Sebas pulled him back in without hesitation, crashing their mouths together again in a deeper, messier kiss. Alex tasted his own blood this time, metallic and warm, mixing with Sebas’s on their tongues as they licked into each other’s mouths.

“Crazy for you,” Sebas murmured hotly against his lips between filthy, open mouthed kisses, hands roaming possessive over Alex’s waist.

“You have no idea how obsessed I’ve been. Since before we even met, watching every stream, every clip, jerking off to your voice in my headphones like a fucking loser. I’ve been waiting so long to have you like this. All mine. Just mine.”

Alex faltered for a second, body tensing against him. That familiar hesitation and reluctance flickering through the haze of want.

The confession hung heavy, almost stalkerish. Too much, too dark, but he didn’t say a word about it. Because some fucked up part of his mind found it romantic, twisted and sweet all at once, and the hint of satisfaction that bloomed in his chest at being wanted that badly made his cock twitch harder against Sebas’s thigh.

He couldn’t help it. He was just as obsessed.

And eventually he melted back into Sebas without a word, whimpering and moaning against his lips.

Their hands escalated immediately, roaming all over each other with desperate urgency, like they physically couldn’t stop touching. Fingers digging into fabric, palms sliding hot and greedy over every inch of skin they could reach. The fresh cuts on their wrists stung sharp with every movement, blood smearing in faint, sticky streaks.

It was fucked up, the way the pain only made everything hotter, feeding straight into that twisted romantic haze in both of their brains.

Proof that they were marked,

claimed,

bleeding for each other.

Sebas gripped Alex’s hips and pulled him forward. “C’mere,” he murmured, voice rough and low, guiding him smoothly onto his lap so Alex was straddling him, knees sinking into the mattress on either side. His fingers pressed gently but firmly into the soft flesh of Alex’s waist, thumbs stroking slow circles over the waistband of his pants.

Alex couldn’t help it, he arched into the touch instantly, spine curving as a shaky breath punched out of him.

“Sebas… fuck…”

“That’s it,” Sebas praised softly, one hand sliding up to thread through Alex’s long hair and tug gently, tilting his head back to expose the line of his throat.

“Arch for me just like that. So fucking pretty when you give in.”

He leaned in and dragged his mouth along the newly exposed skin, lips and tongue hot against Alex’s pulse point.

Alex groaned softly at the pull on his hair, the sensation shooting straight down his spine and making his cock twitch hard in his pants.

“Sebas- ngh- shit, that feels…” voice cracking, hips already rolling forward on instinct.

“Yeah?” Sebas murmured, lips brushing the shell of his ear before he sucked another mark just below it.

“You like when I pull your hair?”

Alex’s hands kept roaming urgently in response. Yanking at fabric until both shirts were shoved off and tossed somewhere on the floor, leaving them bare chested and pressed skin to skin.

Alex’s palms immediately found Sebas’s chest, groping the firm swell of his breasts, squeezing, thumbs brushing over the dark nipples that hardened under his touch.

Sebas groaned against his collarbone.

“You like your hands on me, don’t you?”

He kissed down Alex’s own chest in return, slow and deliberate, lips closing around one of his nipples to tease it with his tongue before sucking softly, making Alex’s back arch again as he cursed under his breath.

“Yeah… fuck, yeah.”

They were both grinding against each other now, dry humping in slow, filthy rolls of their hips. Sebas guiding Alex’s waist with both hands, fingers pressing in possessively to set the rhythm.

Their cocks were already fully hard, straining against their pants, rubbing together through the fabric in urgent, needy strokes that made the room fill with quiet, desperate sounds.

“Ah- fuck,” Alex panted, the word breaking into a soft whimper.

“Ngh… yeah, just like that,” Sebas answered, breath hot against Alex’s neck, his own hips snapping up to meet every grind.

“Hear how good you sound for me?”

Inside, Alex was still a bit hesitant, the weight of Sebas’s earlier confession sitting heavy in his chest.

But he couldn’t stop.

Not when it felt this good.

Not when Sebas was looking at him like he was the only thing that existed.

He just kept moving, chasing the friction, letting the heat drown everything else.

Sebas’s hand wandered lower, slipping underneath the waistband of Alex’s pants and boxers in one smooth motion.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured, voice thick with tension as his fingers wrapped around Alex’s cock, pulling it free into the cool air. He stroked him gently, slow, deliberate pulls from base to tip, thumb swiping over the leaking head.

“God, you’re so wet already,” Sebas murmured, lips brushing Alex’s ear.

“You feel so fucking good in my hand. You like that? Me touching you like this?”

Alex whimpered, hips stuttering into the stroke.

“Y-yeah- fuck, don’t stop-”

His own hands fumbled more urgently, shoving Sebas’s pants down just enough to free his cock too, wrapping his fingers around his thick, hot length and stroking with shaky, desperate pulls.

“Easy, baby,” Sebas laughed softly, breathless, catching Alex’s wrist to slow him down.

“I wanna make it last.”

But he didn’t stop Alex either. Instead he guided their cocks together, hot skin sliding against hot skin, slick with precum, rubbing them slow and deliberate in his fist.

The wet slide was obscene, filthy, perfect. Every drag pulling matching gasps from them.

“Ah- Sebas-”

“Ngh- fuck, Alex-”

They rocked into each other like that, foreheads pressed together, eyeliner still smudged, breaths mingling in short, desperate pants.

“More,” Alex finally whispered, voice small and flustered, cheeks burning even as his hips jerked forward again.

“Please- Sebas, I need more-”

Sebas kissed him slow and deep, swallowing the plea.

“I know, pretty boy. I’ve got you.”

His thumb brushed over the head of Alex’s cock again, teasing the slit, spreading more precum.

“I’m gonna take my time with you. You can wait for me, can’t you? Just a little longer.”

Alex nodded desperately, the motion jerky and eager as his half lidded eyes stayed locked on Sebas’s.

The silent plea in that nod made Sebas’s mouth curve into a gentle smile, his thumb still stroking slow circles along Alex’s leaking cock where he held them both together in his fist.

“Good boy,” Sebas murmured, voice low and warm.

“Such a good fucking boy for me.”

He pulled Alex into another kiss before the words could fully settle, their mouths sliding together wet and deep, tongues tangling in a slow, filthy rhythm that made them both groan quietly. They kept rubbing their cocks like that, hot, slick lengths sliding against each other in Sebas’s loose grip, precum mixing in messy, obscene streaks that coated both of them and dripped down to their stomachs.

Sebas’s free hand stayed planted on Alex’s waist, fingers pressing in firm and possessive, pulling him closer with every slow grind so their bodies stayed flush, skin on skin, sweat already starting to shine between them.

Sebas took his time, never quite fast enough to push either of them over the edge, just enough to keep them trembling, leaking, aching. Dragging it out in that torturous rhythm while he murmured praises between kisses.

“Look at you… so hard for me, leaking all over my hand like you can’t help it. You feel so good, baby, warm and wet and perfect.”

He broke the kiss just enough to tug gently at Alex’s hair again, tilting his head back for better access, then pressed sloppy, open mouthed kisses down the line of his jaw and along the side of his neck, sucking soft marks into his skin that would stand out in the morning.

Alex arched hard into every touch, spine curving, a needy whimper slipping out as those lips branded him. Hips rolling down instinctively, chasing the slow drag of their cocks together.

Sebas groaned against his throat, teeth grazing lightly before he sucked another mark right below Alex’s ear.

“Arch for me again. Let me feel how bad you need it.”

Alex moaned softly and obeyed, pushing his flushed skin right against Sebas like he was offering himself completely.

The buildup stretched long and intense, every grind and stroke deliberate, their breaths growing shorter and hotter against each other’s mouths. Alex’s hands roamed restlessly over Sebas’s bare chest, nails scraping lightly over his nipples, while Sebas kept one hand fisted in his hair and the other working them both in that same unhurried rhythm.

The cuts on their wrists had dried to faint, sticky lines, but every shift still pulled a faint sting that only fed the heat, turning the pain into something dark and beautiful in their twisted little bubble.

“Sebas- ngh- please, I’m so close-” Alex panted, voice wrecked and breathless, hips stuttering.

“I know, baby, I know,” Sebas whispered back, kissing him again, deeper this time, tongue sliding slow against Alex’s as he tightened his grip just enough to make them both gasp.

Their sounds mixed together, Sebas grunting low and rough, Alex panting needy little “ah- ah- fuck-” noises that grew higher and more desperate with every drag. They stayed pressed mouth to mouth, sharing every breath, every whimper, eyes fluttering half shut as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter.

Sebas’s hips jerked up hard, a deep grunt tearing from his throat.

“Alex- fuck-” as the first thick rope of cum spilled hot and messy over his own fist and across Alex’s cock. Alex followed right after, overwhelmed and overstimulated, a broken “ngh- Sebas- ah-” spilling from his lips as he came in pulsing streaks, painting both their stomachs and chests in sticky white.

Both of them were shaking, teary eyed from the intensity, the black liner on their eyes smudging further.

Alex squeezed his eyes shut on instinct, overwhelmed, and buried his face against Sebas’s neck, hiding in the warm, sweaty curve of his skin.

Sebas’s hand left his hair to cup the back of his head gently. “Hey… look at me,” he breathed, voice still strained but soft.

“I wanna see you when you finish, baby. Let me see those pretty eyes.”

Alex obeyed after a second, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, lashes clumped and liner wrecked. They spilled the last weak pulses against each other, making an even bigger mess, more cum dripping down their skin.

They came down slowly, breathing hard and heavy, chests heaving as they leaned into one another from pure exhaustion. Sebas caught Alex’s wrist first, the one with his name carved in, and brought it to his lips.

He kissed the cuts one last time, soft, lingering presses of his mouth right over the dried letters, holding eye contact the whole time. The contact stung just a little, the pain dulled now but still there, a faint throb that made Alex’s breath hitch.

Alex met his gaze with half lidded eyes, mouth softly open, face flushed and glistening with sweat. He couldn’t break away as Sebas’s eyes slowly traced every inch of his face, quiet hunger wrapped in devotion, like Alex already belonged to him completely.

Sebas pulled him closer then, both hands coming up to hold Alex’s face gently, thumbs brushing along his cheekbones. Their noses brushed, foreheads resting together.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he whispered, thumb wiping gently at the smudged eyeliner under Alex’s eye, spreading the black a little more.

“All wrecked and mine.

All fucking mine.”

Alex melted into his touch completely, eyes slipping shut as he leaned in further, breathing warm and slow against the side of Sebas’s neck. He rested there, exhausted, body heavy, every muscle loose and trembling.

Sebas held him just as tight, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other stroking slow, soothing lines up and down his bare back. He was exhausted too, breath still ragged, but he leaned into Alex just the same, chin resting on top of his head, hair clinging damp to both their foreheads.

He pressed one last kiss to Alex’s forehead, slow, lingering, sweaty hair sticking to his lips, before they stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the room quiet except for the sound of their breathing and the faint, shared heartbeat between them.

<3

-

sorry this took forever to finish LOL

[l0qu1t44]

sebaslex emos y obsesivos <3

3.5k palabras, smut, menciones de autolesión y sangre

english version

En el tenue resplandor de la habitación de Sebas, el mundo de afuera se desvanecía poco a poco. Sin streams, sin chats, sin ojos curiosos. Solo Sebas y Alex, los dos encerrados en su propia burbujita.

Dos chicos enredados al borde de la cama, bocas chocando en un beso hambriento que llevaba horas acumulándose. Sus labios se deslizaban húmedos y desordenados, lenguas empujándose profundo y sin control. El delineador negro ya se había corrido un poco en las o esquinas de sus ojos por el calor de todo eso, haciéndolos verse aún más destrozados de lo normal.

Había empezado antes esa misma noche cuando Sebas le convenció a Alex de intentarlo. Había sostenido el rostro de Alex con suavidad entre sus palmas, pulgares rozando la línea de su mandíbula mientras le inclinaba la cabeza. La habitación se había quedado en silencio, solo el suave rasguño del lápiz contra su piel y el sonido de su respiración.

Demasiado cerca.

Peligrosamente cerca.

La garganta de Alex se movió con un trago fuerte, nervios retorciéndose en su estómago mientras su mirada caía sin remedio a la boca de Sebas, haciendo que sus propios labios se abrieran por instinto.

Sebas lo notó. Hizo una pausa, mirándolo a los ojos por un segundo cargado de electricidad.

“Estás bien?”

Su voz salió ronca, gruesa por la tensión. Sin burla, solo deseo crudo envuelto con suavidad.

Alex logró un pequeño asentimiento, la respiración temblorosa.

“Sí.”

Sebas había vuelto a la tarea sin decir otra palabra, concentrado y silencioso otra vez, pero la tensión entre ellos nunca se había calmado del todo.

Ahora sus manos no podían quedarse quietas. Los dedos de Alex se clavaban en la parte de enfrente de la camisa de Sebas, arrugando la tela mientras lo jalaba más cerca, mientras las palmas de Sebas recorrían calientes y necesitadas por el pecho de Alex, deslizándose bajo del borde de su camisa para trazar la piel de su estómago.

Se marcaban suavemente uno al otro, uñas raspando ligeramente por sus costillas, pulgares presionando en los costados, bocas separándose solo lo justo para jadear antes de chocar de nuevo.

Cada toque se sentía eléctrico, sin aliento, como si estuvieran muriéndose de hambre y no pudieran satisfacerse.

Incluso con la duda todavía presente en el pecho de Alex, esa culpa familiar retorciéndose porque se sentía tan bien, porque lo deseaba tanto a pesar de la vocecita en el fondo de su cabeza que le decía que estaba mal, no podía evitar arquearse hacia las manos de Sebas.

Su espalda se curvaba, pegando su cuerpo al de Sebas, y un sonido suave e involuntario se le escapó cuando sus dedos bajaron más, jugueteando con la cintura de los pantalones de Alex.

Sebas rompió el beso lo justo para arrastrar sus labios por la mandíbula de Alex, voz baja y áspera contra el borde de su oreja. “Verga, mírate… tan bonito así. No tienes idea de lo bien que te ves ahorita.”

La respiración de Alex se cortó, las mejillas ardiéndole bajo su mirada. “Sebas… Yo- no sé si-”

“Sí sabes,” murmuró Sebas, suave pero insistente, una mano subiendo para agarrar la nuca de Alex mientras la otra presionaba plana contra su pecho, sintiendo el latido frenético de su corazón. Besó la esquina de la boca de Alex, lento y persuasivo, luego se apartó lo justo para mirarlo a los ojos.

“Dímelo. Puedo sentir cuánto lo quieres. Dímelo, bebé. Qué quieres?”

Alex gimió contra los labios de Sebas, el sonido tembloroso y necesitado mientras otro lento movimiento de caderas de Sebas los frotaba juntos. Sus manos temblaban donde se aferraban a los hombros de Sebas, pero se arqueó de nuevo de todos modos, persiguiendo la fricción, el calor, la forma perfecta en que el muslo de Sebas encajaba entre sus piernas.

“Ándale,” susurró Sebas, voz llena de esa misma tensión cuidadosa, pulgar haciendo círculos calmantes justo debajo de la oreja de Alex.

“Sé que tú también lo sientes. Dime qué tan bueno es. Admítelo… quieres mis manos encima de ti, verdad? Quieres que siga?”

Las pestañas de Alex parpadearon, el delineador corrido haciendo que sus ojos se vieran aún más oscuros, y otro suave gemido se le escapó mientras se presionaba más cerca, labios rozando los de Sebas con cada respiración entrecortada.

“Yo… quiero que sigas,” admitió Alex al fin, voz quebrándose en las palabras, todavía dudoso, esa culpa ardiente retorciéndose bajo en su estómago aunque su cuerpo lo traicionara.

“Puta madre, Sebas, quiero tus manos en mí. No pares.”

La boca de Sebas se curvó en una sonrisa lenta y hambrienta contra la suya, una mano subiendo para enredarse en el cabello oscuro de Alex mientras la otra seguía acariciando círculos provocadores sobre su cadera.

“Eso es, mi amor. Buen chico. Sabía que lo dirías.”

Lo besó más profundo, lengua deslizándose lenta y sucia, saboreando la leve sal de su desesperación compartida mientras sus cuerpos se movían juntos en ese mismo ritmo necesitado, caderas frotando en círculos perezosos y deliberados que hacían que la respiración de Alex se entrecortara.

Siguieron así durante largos minutos calientes, manos recorriendo más calientes, bocas más húmedas, dientes rozando labios hinchados y mandíbulas, hasta que Sebas alcanzó hacia su escritorio sin romper el beso. Sus dedos se cerraron alrededor de la pequeña navaja que guardaba ahí, sacándola en una moción lenta, el sonido resonando suave en la habitación callada.

Alex se quedó pegado a él, pecho presionado fuerte, incapaz de apartarse aunque sus ojos bajaran hacía la navaja.

“Sebas… qué estás haciendo?” preguntó en voz baja, corazón martilleando contra la palma de Sebas.

Los ojos de Sebas no se apartaron de los suyos, oscuros e intensos detrás de las leves manchas de su propio delineador.

“Voy a mostrarte exactamente cuánto te quiero,” murmuró, voz baja y firme.

“Mírame.”

Llevó la navaja a su propia muñeca primero, presionando el filo afilado. Alex miró, hipnotizado y sin aliento, mientras Sebas escribía las letras lentas y cuidadosas. Su nombre, A-L-E-X, en su piel. Líneas delgadas de rojo brotaron al instante por la curva de su muñeca.

“Esto está bien jodido,” respiró Alex, voz tensa.

Pero no se movió, no se apartó, no podía quitar la mirada de la sangre de Sebas y de cómo su pecho subía y bajaba con cada trazo deliberado.

Sebas dejó la navaja a un lado por un segundo, tomó la mejilla sonrojada de Alex con su mano libre y lo jaló a un beso lento e íntimo. Sus labios se encontraron suaves y profundos.

“Shh, está bien,” susurró Sebas contra su boca entre besos, gentil y persuasivo.

“Estás seguro conmigo. Nunca te haría más daño que no puedas aguantar. Confías en mí, verdad?”

Alex dudó, rostro ardiendo, labios entreabiertos. Su respiración tembló. Luego asintió, pequeño y tembloroso.

“Sí… sí confío en ti.”

La sonrisa de Sebas se suavizó, ojos fijos en los suyos. Tomó la navaja de nuevo y terminó la última letra en su propia muñeca, luego la llevó a sus labios y lamió la sangre fresca en un lento arrastre de su lengua, manteniendo el contacto visual todo el tiempo. La vista hizo que algo oscuro se retorciera en el estómago de Alex.

Luego Sebas giró la navaja hacia la muñeca de Alex, dedos gentiles contra su piel suave.

“Ahora es tu turno, lindo.”

Alex siseó suave en cuanto el filo corto su piel. Sebas escribiendo su propio nombre en trazos cuidadosos y superficiales.

S-E-B-A-S

“Te duele?” preguntó Sebas, pulgar acariciando calmantemente a lo largo del antebrazo de Alex.

“Solo un poco,” admitió Alex, respiración entrecortada, pero no se apartó.

“Tu lo puedes aguantar,” lo aseguró Sebas suavemente, terminando la última letra antes de dejar la navaja.

“Te estás portando tan bien para mi.”

Se inclinó y lamió la sangre de los cortes frescos de Alex, lengua caliente y húmeda contra la piel que ardía, sin romper el contacto visual nunca.

Luego besó las heridas, presiones suaves de sus labios justo sobre las letras sangrantes, calmando el ardor con toques gentiles que sacaron otro gemido tembloroso de la garganta de Alex.

Alex lo miró de vuelta, no podía apartarse cuando Sebas lo miraba así, hambriento con deseo, como si quisiera quemar el mundo entero solo por tenerlo.

“Estás loco,” susurró Alex, ojos medio abiertos, labios separados y temblando.

Sebas lo jaló de vuelta sin dudar, chocando sus bocas de nuevo en un beso más profundo y desordenado. Alex probó su propia sangre esta vez, metálica y tibia, mezclándose con la de Sebas en sus lenguas mientras se lamían las bocas uno al otro.

“Loco por ti,” murmuró Sebas, su voz caliente contra sus labios entre besos sucios y abiertos, manos recorriendo posesivas la cintura de Alex.

“No tienes ni idea lo obsesionado que he estado contigo. Desde antes que nos conociéramos, viendo cada stream, cada clip, pajeándome con tu voz en mis audífonos como un pinche perdedor. He estado esperando tanto para tenerte así. Todo mío. Solo mío.”

Alex pausó por un segundo, cuerpo tensándose contra él. Esa duda familiar haciéndose presente a través de la neblina de deseo.

La confesión colgaba pesada para Alex, demasiado oscuro, pero él no dijo ni una palabra. Porque una parte jodida de su mente lo encontraba romántico, retorcido y dulce al mismo tiempo, y el toque de satisfacción que floreció en su pecho al ser deseado tanto hizo que su pene se endureciera más fuerte contra el muslo de Sebas.

No podía evitarlo. Él estaba igual de obsesionado.

Y al final se derritió de vuelta en Sebas sin decir una palabra, gimiendo contra sus labios.

Sus manos escalaron de inmediato, recorriendo todo el cuerpo del otro con urgencia desesperada, como si físicamente no pudieran dejar de tocarse. Dedos clavándose en la tela de sus ropas, palmas deslizándose calientes por cada centímetro de piel que podían alcanzar. Los cortes frescos en sus muñecas ardían con cada movimiento, sangre manchando en líneas ligeras.

Estaba jodido, la forma en que el dolor solo hacía todo más caliente, alimentando esa neblina romántica y retorcida en los cerebros de ambos.

Prueba de que estaban marcados,

reclamados,

sangrando el uno por el otro.

Sebas agarró las caderas de Alex y lo jaló hacia adelante. “Ven acá,” murmuró, voz áspera y baja, guiándolo a su regazo para que Alex lo montara, rodillas hundiéndose en el colchón a cada lado. Sus dedos presionaban suavemente pero firmes en la piel suave de la cintura de Alex, pulgares haciendo círculos lentos sobre la cintura de sus pantalones.

Alex no pudo evitarlo, se arqueó al toque al instante, columna curvándose mientras un aliento tembloroso se le escapaba.

“Sebas… mierda…”

“Eso es,” alabó Sebas suavemente, una mano subiendo para enredarse en el cabello largo de Alex y jalandolo despacio, inclinando su cabeza hacia atrás para exponer la línea de su garganta.

“Arquéate para mí, justo así. Tan pinche hermoso cuando te rindes.”

Se inclinó y arrastró su boca por la piel recién expuesta, labios y lengua calientes contra el punto del pulso de Alex.

Alex gimió suave por el jalón en su cabello, la sensación bajando directo por su columna y hacia su pene debajo de sus pantalones.

“Sebas- ngh- mierda, eso se siente…” voz quebrándose, caderas ya rodando hacia adelante por instinto.

“Ah si?” murmuró Sebas, labios rozando en borde de su oreja antes de chupar otra marca justo debajo.

“¿Te gusta cuando te jalo el pelo?”

Las manos de Alex siguieron recorriendo urgentemente en respuesta. Jalando la tela hasta que ambas camisas fueron quitadas y tiradas en algún lugar del piso, dejándolos con el pecho desnudo y presionados piel contra piel.

Las palmas de Alex encontraron de inmediato el pecho de Sebas, manoseandolo y apretando, pulgares rozando los pezones oscuros que se endurecían bajo su toque.

“Te gusta tener tus manos encima de mí, verdad, bebé?”

Sebas bajó por el pecho de Alex, dejando besos lentos, labios cerrándose alrededor de uno de sus pezones para provocarlo con su lengua antes de chuparlo suavemente, haciendo que la espalda de Alex se arqueara de nuevo.

“Sí… puta madre, sí me gusta.”

Ahora ambos se estaban frotando uno contra el otro, en movimientos lentos y sucios. Sebas guiando la cintura de Alex con ambas manos, dedos presionando posesivamente para marcar el ritmo.

Sus penes ya estaban completamente duras, presionando contra sus pantalones, frotándose juntas a través de la tela en caricias urgentes y necesitadas que llenaban la habitación de sonidos callados y desesperados.

“Ah- mierda,” jadeó Alex, la palabra rompiéndose en un suave gemido.

“Ngh… sí, justo así,” respondió Sebas, aliento caliente contra el cuello de Alex, sus propias caderas empujando hacia arriba para encontrarse con cada movimiento.

“Escuchas qué bien suenas para mí?”

Por dentro, Alex todavía estaba un poco dudoso, aún pensando en la confesión anterior de Sebas.

Pero aún así, no podía parar.

No cuando se sentía tan bien.

No cuando Sebas lo miraba como si fuera el único que existía.

Solo seguía moviéndose, persiguiendo la fricción, dejando que el calor ahogara todo lo demás.

La mano de Sebas bajó más, deslizándose debajo de la cintura de los pantalones y bóxers de Alex en un movimiento suave.

“Déjame cuidarte,” murmuró Sebas, con la voz gruesa por la tensión mientras sus dedos se envolvían alrededor del pene de Alex, liberándolo contra el aire fresco. Lo acarició suavemente, con movimientos lentos desde la base hasta la punta, el pulgar deslizándose sobre la cabeza que ya goteaba.

“Dios, ya estás tan mojado,” los labios de Sebas rozando la oreja de Alex.

“Te sientes tan bien en mi mano. Te gusta así? Que te toque de esta forma?”

Alex gimió bajito, las caderas sacudiéndose contra la caricia.

“S-sí… mierda, no pares…”

Sus propias manos se movieron con más urgencia, bajándole los pantalones a Sebas lo justo para liberar su pene también, envolviendo los dedos alrededor de su piel caliente, jalándolo con movimientos temblorosos y desesperados.

“Tranquilo, lindo,” rio Sebas bajito, sin aliento, agarrando la muñeca de Alex para frenarlo.

“Quiero que dure.”

Pero tampoco lo detuvo. En cambio, juntó sus penes, piel caliente deslizándose contra piel caliente, frotando lento con su puño.

El roce mojado era obsceno, sucio, perfecto. Cada jalón les arrancaba un jadeo igual.

“Ah… Sebas…”

“Ngh… mierda, Alex…”

Se movían así el uno contra el otro, frentes pegadas, el delineador todavía corrido, respiraciones mezclándose en jadeos cortos y desesperados.

“Más,” susurró Alex al fin, voz chiquita y nerviosa, las mejillas ardiendo mientras sus caderas se empujaban otra vez hacia adelante.

“Por favor… Sebas, quiero más…”

Sebas lo besó lento y profundo, tragándose la súplica.

“Ya sé, bonito. Te tengo.”

Su pulgar volvió a pasar sobre la cabeza del pene de Alex.

“Voy a tomar mi tiempo contigo. Puedes aguantarte, verdad? Solo un poquito más.”

Alex asintió desesperado, el movimiento ansioso mientras sus ojos medio abiertos se quedaban clavados en los de Sebas.

La súplica silenciosa en ese asentimiento hizo que la boca de Sebas se curvara en una sonrisa suave, su pulgar todavía dibujando círculos lentos sobre el pene chorreante de Alex donde las tenía juntas en su puño.

“Buen chico,” murmuró Sebas, voz baja y cálida.

“Eres tan pinche bueno para mí, Alex.”

Lo jaló a otro beso antes de que las palabras se asentaran del todo, sus bocas deslizándose juntas, mojadas y profundas, lenguas enredándose en un ritmo lento y sucio que les sacó otro gemido a ambos. Siguieron frotando sus penes así, calientes y resbaladizas deslizándose una contra el otro en el agarre suelto de Sebas, mezclándose en rayas desordenadas y obscenas que los cubría a los dos y chorreaba hasta sus estómagos.

La mano libre de Sebas se quedó plantada en la cintura de Alex, dedos presionando firmes y posesivos, jalándolo más cerca con cada roce lento para que sus cuerpos se mantuvieran pegados, piel contra piel, el sudor ya empezando a brillar entre ellos.

Sebas se tomó su tiempo, nunca lo suficiente rápido para empujarlos al borde, solo lo justo para mantenerlos temblando y chorreando. Alargándolo en ese ritmo tortuoso mientras murmuraba alabanzas entre cada beso..

“Mírate… tan duro para mí, chorreando todo sobre mi mano como si no pudieras aguantarlo. Te sientes tan bien, bebé, caliente, mojado y perfecto.”

Rompió el beso apenas lo necesario para jalar suavemente del cabello de Alex otra vez, inclinándole la cabeza hacia atrás para tener mejor acceso, y luego plantó besos húmedos y abiertos bajando por la línea de su mandíbula y por el costado de su cuello, chupando suaves marcas en su piel que se notarían por la mañana.

Alex se arqueó fuerte contra cada toque, su espalda curvándose, un gemido necesitado escapándose mientras esos labios lo marcaban. Caderas rodando por instinto, persiguiendo el roce lento de sus penes juntos.

Sebas gruñó contra su garganta, dientes rozando ligero antes de chupar otra marca justo debajo de la oreja de Alex.

“Arquéate otra vez para mí. Déjame sentir lo mucho que me necesitas.”

Alex gimió bajito y obedeció, empujando su piel justo contra Sebas como si se estuviera ofreciendo por completo.

La subida fue larga e intensa, cada roce y caricia deliberada, sus respiraciones volviéndose más cortas y calientes contra las bocas del otro. Las manos de Alex se movían inquietamente sobre el pecho desnudo de Sebas, uñas raspando suave sobre sus pezones, mientras Sebas mantenía una mano enredada en su cabello y la otra trabajando a los dos en ese mismo ritmo sin prisa.

Los cortes en sus muñecas ya se habían secado en rayas tenues, pero cada movimiento todavía jalaba un leve ardor que solo alimentaba el calor, convirtiendo el dolor en algo oscuro y hermoso dentro de su pequeña burbuja retorcida.

“Sebas… ngh… por favor, estoy tan cerca…” jadeó Alex, voz destrozada y sin aliento, caderas tartamudeando.

“Ya sé, bebé, ya sé,” le susurró Sebas, besándolo otra vez, más profundo esta vez, lengua deslizándose lenta contra la de Alex mientras apretaba el agarre lo justo para hacerlos jadear a los dos.

Sus sonidos se mezclaron, Sebas gruñendo bajo y áspero, Alex soltando pequeños “ah… ah… mierda…” necesitados que se volvían más agudos y desesperados con cada roce. Se quedaron pegados boca contra boca, compartiendo cada respiro, cada gemido, ojos medio abiertos mientras el placer se enroscaba más y más fuerte.

Las caderas de Sebas se empujaron hacia arriba con fuerza, un gruñido profundo saliendo de su garganta.

“Alex… mierda…” mientras la primera cuerda gruesa de semen salía caliente y desordenada sobre su propio puño y por encima del pene de Alex. Alex lo siguió de inmediato, abrumado y sobreestimulado, un “ngh… Sebas… ah…” roto escapando de sus labios mientras se corría en chorros pulsantes, pintando sus estómagos y pechos de blanco pegajoso.

Los dos temblaban, con los ojos llorosos por la intensidad, el delineador negro corriéndose todavía más.

Alex cerró los ojos por instinto, abrumado, y enterró la cara contra el cuello de Sebas, escondiéndose en la curva cálida y sudorosa de su piel.

La mano de Sebas dejó su cabello para acunar suavemente la parte de atrás de su cabeza. “Oye, mi amor… mírame,” respiró, voz todavía tensa pero suave.

“Quiero verte cuando termines, bebé. Déjame ver esos ojos bonitos.”

Alex obedeció después de un segundo, echándose un poco hacia atrás lo justo para encontrar su mirada, con su delineador destrozado. Soltaron los últimos pulsos débiles uno contra el otro, haciendo un desastre todavía más grande, más semen chorreando por su piel.

Bajaron poco a poco, respirando fuerte y pesado, pechos agitados mientras se apoyaban el uno en el otro por puro agotamiento. Sebas tomó primero la muñeca de Alex, la que tenía su nombre cortado, y la llevó a sus labios.

Besó los cortes una última vez, presiones suaves de su boca justo sobre las letras secas, manteniendo el contacto visual todo el tiempo. El roce ardía un poquito, el dolor ya más suave pero todavía ahí, un leve latido que hizo que Alex se le cortara la respiración.

Alex lo miró con ojos medio cerrados, boca ligeramente abierta, cara enrojecida y brillando de sudor. No podía apartar la vista mientras los ojos de Sebas recorrían despacio cada centímetro de su rostro, hambre callada envuelta en devoción, como si Alex ya le perteneciera por completo.

Sebas lo jaló más cerca entonces, las dos manos subiendo para sostener la cara de Alex con suavidad, pulgares acariciando su piel. Sus narices se rozaron, frentes descansando juntas.

“Te ves tan hermoso así,” susurró, pulgar limpiando con cariño el delineador corrido bajo el ojo de Alex, extendiendo un poco más el negro.

“Todo destrozado y mío.

Solamente mío.”

Alex se derritió por completo en su toque, ojos cerrándose mientras se inclinaba más, respirando cálido y lento contra el cuello de Sebas. Se quedó ahí, exhausto, cuerpo pesado, cada músculo suelto y tembloroso.

Sebas lo abrazó igual de fuerte, un brazo rodeando su cintura, el otro trazando líneas lentas y calmantes arriba y abajo de su espalda desnuda. Él también estaba agotado, respiración todavía irregular, pero se recargó en Alex del mismo modo, barbilla descansando sobre su cabeza, cabello húmedo pegado a las frentes de los dos.

Le dio un último beso en la frente a Alex, lento, prolongado, el cabello sudoroso pegándose a sus labios, antes de que se quedaran así, envueltos el uno en el otro, el cuarto en silencio salvo por el sonido de sus respiraciones y el latido compartido y tenue entre ellos.

<3

[l0qu1t44]

cowboy!alex 💭💭💭

[l0qu1t44]

i love them <3

[l0qu1t44]

my beautiful princess ☹️

[l0qu1t44]

NO BECAUSE LIKE I WAS TWEAKINGHGGG WHEN HE SHOWED HIS BICEPS 😍

that’s why he loves gatekeeping, he loves getting people all worked up just for a few seconds of skin. he’s an attention whore and he’s good at it 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[l0qu1t44]

god i need to sink my teeth into his arms until he bleeds and whimpers in pain🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

[l0qu1t44]

schlatt fucking alex’s thighs :3

Alex’s breathing hitched as Schlatt pressed against him from behind, his cock barely nudging against Alex’s entrance. Alex tensed and tightened his thighs nervously as soon as he felt it, and there was a low, mocking chuckle at the back of his neck.

“Aww, what’s wrong, pumpkin?” Schlatt’s voice was laced with amusement, his warm breath ghosting over Alex’s ear. The heat of it sent a full body shiver racing down Alex’s naked spine, making him arch back into Schlatt’s chest without thinking, like his body was made for this, made to press into every inch of him.

“Too scared to take me in that tight little ass for the first time? How pathetic are you?” Alex didn’t even get the chance to defend himself before Schlatt moved, his cock sliding between Alex’s tightly closed thighs instead.

The heat of him was overwhelming, the way his cock slid slowly, deliberately, across Alex’s sensitive skin making his head spin.

“Guess I’ll just have to fuck these pretty thighs then,” Schlatt said, his voice laced with a degrading sweetness as he moved his hips, his cock smearing Alex’s skin with his own precum. “Look at you, trembling like a virgin even as you’re dripping for me. Such a scared little slut.”

One of Schlatt’s hands roamed freely, palming Alex’s chest, pinching a nipple, touching everywhere except where Alex needed him the most.

“Ah- ngh…” The small, broken words escaped Alex’s lips, small and helpless as he tried to bite them down. He was trying to be quiet, but every slow stroke between his thighs pulled another needy sound out of him.

Schlatt’s mouth was still pressed against his ear, hot and taunting. “That’s it… listen to those pathetic noises you’re making. Can’t even take it properly and you’re still falling apart.”

He pressed a quick kiss just below Alex’s ear, then whispered, “But fuck, you feel so good like this. So warm and tight for me… such a good boy.”

The praise mingled cruelly with the degradation, causing Alex’s cock to throb in painful response against his own stomach. Schlatt continued to touch him, stroking his sides, holding his hips, brushing increasingly close to his leaking cock, but not giving him what he wanted. What he needed.

It didn’t take long before Alex was trembling, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he came untouched, stripes of white painting his own stomach in messy spurts. Alex bit down hard on his lip to muffle the broken whimpers falling from his lips.

Schlatt let out a low groan at the sight, thrusting a few more times between those slick thighs before pulling back and spilling warm cum onto Alex’s skin, claiming him.

“Messy little thing,” Schlatt murmurs, his voice still dripping with affectionate mockery as he runs a finger through the mess on Alex’s skin.

“Came so hard just from me using your thighs… maybe next time you’ll be brave enough to take it where you really want it.”

:3

[l0qu1t44]

being alex’s soulmate means your souls are so deeply intertwined that even death can’t separate you. when one of you passes, you’re reborn as a small cat, quietly waiting in the world until the other finds you again. you meet with different eyes, in different bodies, but the recognition is instant, something unspoken, familiar, and warm. and even though everything has changed, the love between you remains exactly the same <3

[l0qu1t44]

Collateral

c!quackity, angst

word count: 2.6k

versión en español

Quackity’s POV

I’ve seen my fair share of blood in Las Nevadas, but never yours.

One second, you were standing beside me, sharp as ever, ready with some sarcastic remark for whatever mess I’d gotten us into. The next… one of my enemies lunged. Not even aiming for you. You were just there. Collateral.

The blade caught you in the side before I could move. He didn’t even look twice. To him, it didn’t matter.

I should’ve gone after him. That’s the rule, no loose ends, no debts unpaid. But the second I saw you stumble back, pressing a hand to your side, the rest of the world blurred. I couldn’t think past the sight of red soaking through your shirt.

Now we’re here, huddled in some forgotten corner, away from the chaos. You’re sitting with your back against the wall, knees bent, head tilted like you’re just taking a break. Like the blood running between your fingers isn’t real.

“Not so bad,” you mutter, your voice dry, your lips twitching like you’re about to laugh. “Just a scratch. I’ve had paper cuts worse than this.”

I crouch down, keeping my face set in something unreadable. I don’t give you the satisfaction of a reaction. That’s the line I’ve drawn, the one I remind myself of every day. You’re my assistant. My right hand. Not my… anything else.

“You talk too much,” I tell you, grabbing at the makeshift bandage I ripped from my jacket sleeve. “Save the jokes for when you’re not bleeding all over my floor.”

You let me press the cloth against your side without flinching, without looking at me. You don’t thank me. You don’t ask if I care. You just sit there, letting me play the part of the man who doesn’t.

And I let you. Because if I start talking, really talking, I’m not sure I could stop.

The air around us is too still. You don’t look scared. That scares me more than anything.

I don’t call for help. We’re too far out, too isolated, and I don’t trust anyone else to get here in time. So it’s just you and me, your blood on my hands, my heartbeat too loud in my ears.

I tell myself it’s just another problem to solve. Patch you up, get you moving, keep the casino running. But there’s a knot in my chest I can’t untangle, and the more I try to ignore it, the tighter it gets.

So I keep my hands busy, my voice cold, my eyes anywhere but yours, and pray you never figure out the truth I’m not ready to admit.

It starts subtle.

I’m not even looking for it, but I notice. I always notice.

Your breathing shifts, barely enough for anyone else to catch it. Just a fraction slower, heavier, like each inhale is making you work harder than the last. You’re still leaning back against the wall like you’ve been, but your shoulder’s sagged an inch lower. Your head tips just slightly, as if the wall is doing more work holding you up than you are.

Every time you blink, your eyes stay closed just a heartbeat too long. Not long enough to call it passing out, but long enough to scrape against my nerves.

And your grip, the one pressing the torn scrap of my jacket into your side, loosens. Not all at once. Just the tiniest give in your fingers. But it’s enough for me to feel that flicker of cold in my chest.

I don’t move. Not yet. I keep my posture loose, detached.

You’re fine. You’re capable. You’ve handled worse. That’s what I tell myself.

But then your eyelids sink again, slow this time. Your chin dips forward, the weight of your head dragging you down.

I’m already moving before you slump too far. My hand catches your jaw, my thumb brushing the side of your face as I tilt your head back up. Warm skin. Colder than it should be.

Your eyes crack open just enough to meet mine, and you try to smile, a weak curve of your lips that would almost pass for normal if I didn’t know better.

“Relax,” you murmur, voice thin, trying for humor. “I’m not gonna die on you. Pretty sure you’d fire me first.”

I don’t even roll my eyes. “Don’t talk like that.” My tone’s flat, but it’s sharper than I mean it to be.

You huff a little laugh, but it’s shaky. I don’t like the sound.

I shift my grip, one hand still on your face, the other keeping pressure against your side. I’m close enough now that I can feel the uneven rise and fall of your breathing.

“Just look at me,” I say, my voice low. “Keep your eyes open. Focus right here.”

You tilt your gaze toward me, still half smiling like this is all some bad joke. “What, you worried I’ll miss the next staff meeting?”

“I’m telling you to stay awake.” I keep my eyes locked on yours, like if I stare hard enough, I can will the color back into your face. “So talk. Say something. Anything. Just keep going.”

You grin a little, wincing at the movement. “Alright… but don’t blame me if I start talking about how I once beat you at cards.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. You just… conveniently forgot.”

I let out a short breath, maybe a laugh, maybe not. My hands stay where they are, steady even though my mind’s not.

I’m not sure if I’m holding you up or holding myself together. Probably both.

You keep talking, your words light and clumsy around the edges. I let you. I even feed you small prompts, enough to keep the sound of your voice filling the space.

“…y’know,” you murmur, “this isn’t fair. I’m doing most of the talking. Feels like I’m carrying this conversation.”

My brow pulls just slightly, but I don’t give you more than that. “Yeah? Well, you’re the one who got stabbed. You can do the heavy lifting.”

You let out a faint laugh, like it costs you something. “Mm… yeah, but I like listening to your voice. Even if you’re being mean.”

I look at you for a beat too long before I answer.

You shouldn’t say things like that. You shouldn’t make it harder for me to keep that line between us, the one I’ve been reinforcing since the day I hired you.

“You’re bleeding out and you’re fishing for compliments?” I keep my tone dry, but there’s an edge under it I can’t sand down. My thumb presses a little firmer against your jaw, forcing your head to stay steady. “You really don’t know when to shut up.”

You grin, faint, tired, but it’s there, like you’ve caught me slipping somehow.

I don’t let go. Not of your face. Not of this thin thread of control I’m hanging on to.

The truth is, I could talk. I could give you something, even just to keep you from fading on me. But if I start now, I’ll give too much away. And I’m not ready to let you see that.

So I keep my voice flat, my expression cold, and tell myself I’m only keeping you awake because I need my assistant alive. Not because the thought of silence scares me more than the blood on your hands.

And you, either too stubborn or too damn smart, keep pretending you believe me.

“You’re slowing down,” I say, watching your eyes flicker under heavy lids. My thumb’s still pressed to your jaw, my other hand keeping pressure on your side. “Keep talking.”

You make a small noise, something between a laugh and a sigh, and your lips curl faintly. “Fine,” you say, almost playful. “Do you… believe in reincarnation?”

The words stop me. My stomach knots instantly. I know what you’re doing. I know where questions like that lead. And I hate it.

My jaw tightens. “Don’t start with that.”

You blink slowly, either ignoring the edge in my voice or refusing to acknowledge it. “I’m just asking-”

“You’re not ‘just asking,’” I cut in, my tone sharper now. “That’s not the kind of thing you bring up right now.”

You tilt your head just a little, eyes glinting with something between curiosity and exhaustion. “Why not?”

Because it sounds like you’re already picturing a life after this one. Because it sounds like you’re preparing for the possibility you don’t make it through tonight. Because I can hear the surrender under your breath, and it feels like it’s wrapping a hand around my throat.

“Because it sounds like you’re giving up,” I snap. The words come out harsher than I intended, but I don’t pull them back. “So shut up. Talk about something else.”

You raise your eyebrows slightly, amused despite everything. “You almost sound like you care.”

I press harder on the wound, more out of frustration than necessity. “Yeah? Maybe because you’re pissing me off. Talk about literally anything else. I don’t care what. Just not that shit.”

There’s a moment, the tiniest hesitation, where you could push back, ask me why it matters so much to me. But you don’t. You just shift against the wall, smirking faintly despite the blood loss.

“Fine,” you murmur. “I’ve always wanted to be a little black cat.”

I stare at you. “…What?”

“A little black cat,” you repeat, a bit of light in your voice despite the strain. “No responsibilities. Just… wandering around, jumping on roofs, stealing food. Everyone thinks you’re mysterious. Or unlucky. But really, you’re just… existing. No boss, no rules, no deadlines.”

I huff out something that might’ve been a laugh in a different situation. “You’re bleeding out and you’re talking about being a stray cat.”

I shake my head, looking away for a second so you can’t see the way my chest feels tight. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You like it,” you counter, and I don’t answer.

Because maybe I do. Because maybe I like listening to your voice, even though the thought of you fading into some other life, as a cat, as anything, makes me want to grab you by the shoulders and shake you until you promise to stay here. With me.

But I don’t say that. I keep my grip steady, my expression cold, and I let you think I’m just humoring you.

Even though we both know better.

Your eyelids are heavier now, fluttering instead of blinking, and every time they close I have to wait too long for them to open again.

I move before I can think. My hand leaves your wound just long enough to grab your shoulder, shaking you once, sharp. “Hey. No. Don’t do that.”

Your eyes crack open, hazy, unfocused. You try to smile again, lips twitching. “Relax, I’m fine. Just… resting my eyes.”

I tap your cheek lightly, then harder. “Don’t you fucking do that. I said stay awake.” My voice is rough, too loud in the quiet. I make it sound like I’m angry, but my hands are betraying me, holding your face more gently than I mean to.

You laugh, breathy and slow. “You’re bossy, you know that?”

“Yeah, and you’re a pain in my ass. Now keep talking.”

You shake your head faintly. “You talk.”

“Not how this works.” I tap your cheek again. “You talk, I listen.”

Your eyes slip half closed and something inside me twists hard. My voice sharpens, a poor disguise for the fear starting to crawl under my skin. “Don’t you fucking fade on me. I’m not dragging your half dead ass back to the casino.”

“You’d miss me,” you mumble, the words so faint I almost miss them.

“Shut up.” It comes out too fast, too tight.

Your head tips forward again, slower this time, like you’re being pulled under water. I curse under my breath and catch your chin, forcing your gaze up to mine. “Look at me. I said look at me.”

Nothing. Just that sluggish blink and your lips parting slightly.

Something breaks.

“Please,” I hear myself say, quieter, rawer. The word feels strange in my mouth. I don’t beg. Not for anyone. But here I am, leaning closer, holding your face like I can anchor you here. “Don’t stop talking. I don’t care if it’s about that stupid cat thing. Just… keep going. Tell me more about it.”

Your brows lift slightly, a flicker of surprise through the haze. I don’t wait for you to answer, I can’t stand the silence. “What would you even do, huh? Jump on rooftops? Scratch at people’s doors? Steal fish from some old lady’s plate?” My voice is shaking now, uneven. “Come on. Tell me. Keep talking.”

You swallow, and for the first time, it’s not because you’re about to make a joke. It's because you heard the shift in my voice. The one thing I didn’t want you to hear. The part of me that isn't cold and untouchable. The part that’s terrified.

Still, you manage a small smirk, even though your voice is barely a whisper. “All of that. And… I’d make sure to knock over everything in your office, every single day.”

“Yeah? You’d be dead in the first week,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in it. My thumb brushes your cheekbone, not rough, not by accident, and I don’t even care if you notice.

“Keep talking,” I say again, softer now. I’m leaning in without even realizing it. “Don’t stop. I don’t care if you make it up as you go. Just… keep going.”

You try, I can see you trying, but your eyelids droop, your head dipping again, your voice catching in your throat before the sentence finishes. I can’t stand it.

“Stay with me,” I murmur, and this time I don’t bother hiding the desperation. “Please.”

I don’t think. I just act. I lean forward, closing the space between us, and press my lips to your skin, the curve just below your temple. It’s soft. Too soft for the person I’m supposed to be.

You freeze for a fraction of a second, and I feel you swallow hard under my hand. I pull back just enough to see your face, not far enough to let you go, and for a split second, I think about stopping. About stepping back into that safe, cold place where nothing matters.

But then your eyes meet mine, dazed but still there, and I can’t.

Another kiss, lower this time, the edge of your jaw. My lips linger for a second longer than they should. You don’t push me away.

“You’re not making this easy,” I murmur, my voice rough, almost breaking. “Just… keep talking. Please.”

You take in a shaky breath, like you’re not sure whether to laugh or say something else. “I… uh… I’d knock over your coffee mug first thing in the morning.”

The corner of my mouth twitches. I press another kiss to the hollow just below your cheek, slower, breathing you in. “Yeah? And then what?”

You blink slowly, your voice unsteady. “Then I’d… climb up on your desk and… just sit there. All day. Staring at you.”

A sound leaves me, part laugh, part something far more raw, and I find myself pressing one more kiss, softer this time, right at the corner of your mouth. Not quite crossing the line, but close enough that it’s dangerous.

“Keep going,” I whisper, and it’s not a command anymore. It’s a plea. My lips hover there, waiting, as if your next words are the only thing holding me together.

Because if you stop… I don’t know if I’d be able to forgive myself.

</3

—————————————————————————

wrote this at 4am bc i prefer to suffer instead of sleep 😝😝😝😝😝😝😝

[l0qu1t44]

i haven’t been in the mood to write today because i’ve been too busy mourning an alternate life where i’m alex’s cat. it’s honestly one of my biggest fantasies. not his soulmate in the usual sense, but in a different, quieter way.

in this life, i’d be a little black cat, since it would match both our hair. it would be simple and warm, my only responsibility being to keep him company. just wandering around and always finding my way back to him. curling up in his lap during streams, rubbing against him for attention, pressing into his hand until he pets me, nuzzling into his touch.

purposely interrupting him when he’s overworking himself, playing with his hand, meowing, stretching across his keyboard, just to pull a smile out of him, just to get him to take a break. i’d be there to cuddle up against him when he’s sad or overwhelmed. a small, constant presence to comfort him, to make sure he never feels completely alone. i’d be the reason he gets those little moments of peace in the middle of his loneliness.

because truthfully, he is lonely. he misses his family and friends back in mexico far more than he lets on, and in LA, he doesn’t reach out to the friends he does have too much. there’s so much love in him, he gives it so freely when someone is close enough to receive it, but it has nowhere to go when he’s alone. a pet would be perfect for him. he’d finally have a constant companion to share that affection with, someone who’s always there without judgment or expectation. and knowing alex, he’d spoil them completely, in that gentle, wholehearted way only he can <3

alex and tiger <3

me and alex if we were cats ☹️ (im the black one :3)

[l0qu1t44]

in another life me and alex are two stray cats in love, roaming around and finding a new place to cuddle every night <333

[l0qu1t44]

catboy!alex who can’t help but hiss whenever he gets frustrated ฅ^>⩊<^ฅ

he can’t hide his jealousy when he catches you with someone else, letting a soft hiss escape his lips before he can catch himself. then he crawls onto your lap, curling himself against you and fitting himself into the crook of your neck like he belongs there. his tension melts away as he nuzzles himself against your skin, his purrs rumbling in his chest as he breathes you in with a content sigh. wrapping his tail around you and licking his favorite spot on your neck as a subtle possessive claim.

you tangle your fingers into his hair in return, holding him there, petting him in slow, gentle strokes. you lean in close, whispering against his ear, your warm breath enough to make him shiver and melt further into you, his purring deepening as he clings just a little tighter.

“don’t worry my pretty boy,” you murmur softly, your voice mirroring the same quiet possessiveness as him.

“you know i’m all yours.”

<3

[l0qu1t44]

jester!alex x princess!reader <3

Alex is known to everyone as Quackity. The jester. The fool.

He's a boy who's all about noise and laughter, always trying to fill the silence before it becomes too awkward. His job is to entertain, to make people laugh and smile. He's like a clown, always exaggerating his words and actions to get a reaction from the crowd.

And because of this, nobody takes him seriously, not his clever jokes, not even the way his timing always seems to be a little too precise to be accidental. He’s someone meant to be looked at but never really seen.

You're no exception.

To you, Quackity is someone who’s always too loud and annoying. Yet he’s always hovering around, trying to provoke a reaction from you like it matters more than the applause of anyone else.

He likes it when you roll your eyes at him, there’s something almost triumphant in the way his grin widens when he earns it. But the thing he loves, the thing he starts to chase, is the rare crack in your composure when a smile slips out before you can stop it. Like it doesn’t belong to the version of you that finds him irritating. And suddenly he isn’t performing for a crowd anymore, he’s performing for you.

It changes the way he approaches you, until you begin to notice that he isn’t quite as insufferable when he catches you alone. When the noise of everyone else fades away and it’s just the two of you tucked into some forgotten corner, hidden away from prying eyes.

In those moments his voice lowers, his jokes soften, and you find yourself noticing details you never let yourself see before.

Like the curve of his smile without the exaggeration, the small moles scattered across his skin like a constellation beneath the clown makeup, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when his laugh is genuine.

That’s when you start to learn that there’s a difference between Quackity and Alex, the boy beneath the costume. And it unsettles you how quickly you start to prefer Alex.

It happens in pieces so small you almost miss them. The brush of his hand against yours that lingers a second too long and the way you don’t immediately pull away. The way your eyes begin to search for his without your permission. The way your boredom suddenly becomes more noticeable in his absence. And he feels it too, in the quiet disappointment he feels when he makes someone else laugh and it doesn’t land the same way yours does.

You start running into each other like that more often, not quite planned at first, just coincidences that become habits. And then those habits become more intentional, until it feels like the two of you are purposely building your own bubble hidden away from the rest of the world. A place where titles don’t exist and all that’s left is the quiet electric space between you.

He steals eye rolls from you like they’re victories, and you pretend to be annoyed even when you seek him out for the same reason. Just to catch a glimpse of that smile that used to irritate you and now lingers in your thoughts longer than it should.

The distance between you shortens without either of you acknowledging it, because it feels natural, inevitable even, like something that was always meant to happen. He leans closer when he speaks and you don’t step back, your shoulders brush and stay that way, and neither of you comments on it.

One day he takes your hand and presses a dramatic, exaggerated kiss to your knuckles. It's meant as a joke, another performance, but the moment feels different. His lips are warmer than you expect, your breath catching just slightly before you pull your hand away and roll your eyes as if nothing happened, as if your heart didn’t stutter at the contact.

You get him back in small ways, petty and playful, like asking him to tie your shoe, mocking with fake sincerity. You watch him drop to one knee with an exaggerated sigh. But there’s something in his expression as he does it, something softer, like he doesn’t actually mind, like he would do it again without the drama if you asked.

And maybe that’s when things start to change, when the teasing starts to mean something more, a kind of tension neither of you addresses.

Your laughter becomes quieter when you’re alone together, less performative, more genuine. Until it’s just the two of you sharing something that feels almost intimate, leaning into each other without thinking, your shoulders touching, then your arms, then your foreheads brushing as you both laugh at something that probably isn’t even that funny.

The world outside starts to feel smaller compared to the warmth between you, the way his voice lowers when he says your name, and the way your own voice softens in response.

It happens slowly, inevitably. Your laughter starts to fade away into something quieter, your smiles lingering a little too long, your eyes half lidded without you realizing it, your lips parting as the distance between you shrinks. You feel it before it happens, that subtle tension, that pull towards each other.

Time stretches out as you whisper.

“We shouldn’t.”

Because you both know the truth of it, the impossibility, the consequences if anyone finds out.

You can tell he's aware of it, in the way his face softens. In the way his voice drops, quiet and almost hesitant.

“I know.”

But he doesn't pull back, doesn't try to break the moment, and instead he closes that tiny gap between you, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

The kiss is gentle, only shy for a moment before it deepens. Your hands find him just as instinctively as his find you, your fingers tangling through his hair, his settling at your waist. Pulling you in as if proximity alone isn’t enough, as if he’s been waiting for this without realizing. It's like everything else has melted away, and all that's left is the two of you, lost in this moment.

After that, it becomes harder to pretend.

When he's not around, you feel his absence in a way that feels too sharp to brush off. Your encounters stop being accidents, now you find yourself planning these meetings, sneaking in moments together whenever you can.

The kisses on your hand stop being jokes, now they’re slower, more intentional. His lips linger as they trace higher, more intimate. Like he’s worshipping you, testing boundaries neither of you are supposed to cross.

Then the secrecy shifts from necessity to thrill. Adrenaline threading through every glance and subtle touch in public, every brush of fingers hidden behind calculated movements, every stolen second that feels like it could unravel everything you’ve built in silence.

It grows beyond something temporary, beyond hidden corners and quiet laughter, until it starts to stretch into something deeper, something that carries into your thoughts even when you’re apart.

You start talking about it in hushed whispers, in the soft aftermath of stolen moments, voices low and hopeful as you trace the shape of impossible futures. Running away, leaving titles and expectations behind, existing somewhere where neither of you have to hide.

They’re fragile dreams, unrealistic in ways you both understand, but you hold onto them anyway, because the alternative is pretending this means less than it does.

And somewhere along the way, he leans in close, voice low against your ear as he asks you to call him Alex, not Quackity, not the jester. As if it means more coming from you, as if it changes everything between you.

And when you do, it comes out breathless, his name slipping out like something sacred whenever he’s holding you close. A quiet truth in a world built on performance and expectations.

He's actually not that bad when he's being himself. When he isn’t the jester that everyone laughs at and overlooks.

He’s just Alex.

And over time, without meaning to, without planning it, he became yours.

Your Alex.

<3

my inspo was manchester, iykyk 😋

[l0qu1t44]

you take the cross on alex's necklace between your teeth, using it to pull him closer and shorten the distance between you. your gaze lifts to meet his, with a slow knowing smirk, hunger in your eyes. he’s close enough now that your breaths mingle, warm against each other’s skin, and you feel the exact moment it hits him.

the hitch, the way his throat tightens as he swallows hard.

his eyes are half lidded as he looks back at you, dazed as if he’s already slipping. caught between wanting and resisting. that same hunger in his eyes but mixed with hesitation. his lips part as if he’s about to say something, perhaps to stop this before it goes any further, but the words never come. they just hang there unspoken, lost in the tension that’s pulling you closer.

he knows he should turn away, you can read it in the way his eyes seek yours like he’s struggling with himself. but he doesn’t do anything about it. he can’t. not when you look at him like that. not when you’re this close.

his eyes remain fixed on yours until they slip for just moment and rest on your lips. and the glance he gives you, that tiny, betraying glance, is enough to give you a quick sense of satisfaction.

because there it is. undeniable.

he wants this just as much as you do.

even if he thinks he shouldn’t. even if it feels wrong.

the cross between your teeth keeps him chained to you, testing every boundary he tries to maintain. and you can’t help the way your mind wanders, dark and deliberate, to all the ways you could drag him further past that hesitation, all the unholy things you want to do with him.

to make him forget everything except you.

<3

[l0qu1t44]

Same anon.

Yeah sorry I might’ve been a bit delusional. He hasn’t even had a real relationship in at all and he’s almost in his 30s and thinking about it I agree. I think he needs to learn how to treat a woman (or man) respectively relationship wise before dating someone. I honestly don’t want him to be a bad boyfriend.

Either way he’s very private so we don’t even know if he has a partner 🥲

I do agree on therapy too.

unfortunately he’s the stubborn type who thinks he can fix everything himself </3

it makes me sad. he craves to be loved and he has so much love to give, yet he always ends up sabotaging himself bc he refuses to face the parts of himself that hold him back :/