Oliver Vocaloid Novels & Stories

she said in a low voice. "My three best friends are unique in their own way. One is a lawyer, the other an actor and the last one is a writer and I am just a cool guy who makes lots of money so I can spend it on you and your Mum. Do you want to know if I can sing?" I asked while Olive and Muna laughed at what I just said. "As long as you don't sound like a dying frog, I'm all ears," Olive laughed. I turned on my Taylor Swift playlist and started singing along. I'm not trying to brag but I have quite a nice voice.

In the live stream, Olivia had just finished her guitar performance. Raymond, being knowledgeable about music, compared the performances from both live streams—Lindsay's and Olivia's guitar playing. He glanced at Oliver with a hint of sarcasm. "Oliver, you're not discrediting Lindsay; you're actually setting Via up for failure," he remarked. "How did you come up with the idea to have the trolls ask Lindsay to play the same guitar piece Via performed?" Oliver, looking frustrated, replied, "I only knew Lindsay could play the fiddle. I had no idea she could play the guitar. I thought if she couldn't play it well, it would make Via look better."

Her voice cracked through the air, the name laced with shock, disbelief, and something sharper—anger. My smile didn’t falter. My head tilted slightly, my gaze sliding past her like she was nothing more than another guest. I let the name linger in the air, untouched, unfamiliar. Nella. A name I had buried with my past. A name that no longer belonged to me. A flicker of frustration crossed Oliver’s face before he stepped closer. "Nella," he tried again, softer this time, like the sound of it on his tongue would bring me back to him. His gaze searched mine, desperation laced beneath the disbelief. "I know it's you."

Both him and Tristan had wasted enough of her time, and she deserved to be happy. Another deep breath later, he scrolled down until his thumb reached Tristan’s name. This time he didn’t need to close his eyes and count till 60. He had made his choice. He pressed the green button next to Tristan’s name, not taking the hour into account. x - x - x Something was missing, but Oliver could not figure out what it was. Until … A familiar music hit his ears … It took Oliver five seconds to identify the tone - Chicken on the Rocks by Jean-Jacques Perrey!

“Shit! Here I was, thinking I would never see Oliver again. “He was there at this restaurant I work for. He called my name.” “What? How on earth did he recognize you? I mean if I did not know you, I would not have recognized you.” “I do not know. He did not— I think it was my voice. You know I am an ignoramus for feigning vocals.” “This is fucked up, but you must calm down. Oliver is not interested in any woman right now and will probably forget about you since you are not the Ellen he knows.”

Her will had swallowed mine whole. The chains rattled as I pulled, the cold iron biting into my skin. Pain flashed, but it only made the fury stronger. I wanted out. I needed out. Then I heard it. A voice—steady, low, and rhythmic. Oliver. He was chanting. His words were old, soft, sacred—woven with calm. The sound pierced through the haze, and for a fleeting moment, the storm inside me eased. My breathing slowed. My claws loosened against the stone.

Ugh! “Damn well, I guess you’ll wanna run with your family,” Oliver says, as he squats to look into my eyes. He looks so sad and I hate it. But on two legs, there isn’t much he can do for my wolf right now. *What do I call you,* I finally think to ask the voice in my head. *I’m Daria! Who are you,* the voice says, licking her lips at the sight of our mate.

“As I was saying, Kieran is beautiful. No, gorgeous.” “And?” If Oliver had even the tiniest bit of brain mass, he would have understood I wanted him to shut up immediately. “What else?” “Honestly, she makes the word gorgeous sound like an understatement.” Oliver whistled. “Literally. She should be called an Angel, or a goddess.” “And?” “And her voice is so sweet and soft.” Oliver cooed. “They're like music to my ears. I could listen to her talk all day long. I should ask her if she's a good singer. I can bet my life she has an angelic voice and…”

Leaning forward, Olivia whispered sensually. “My name is Olivia Wilona.”

His hard cock hits all the right spots against my clit, each movement blowing my mind making it hard for me to be coherent. My head falls back as he brings me to a mindblowing orgasm, sucking my nipples and slapping my ass as my body quivers in satisfaction while Oliver shoots his load into me. Our deep breaths sync together as we collapse into a sweaty heap, limbs tangled together, not wanting to let go. “You know I’m not finished with you, right?” He growls, his voice deep and rough, unlike what I’m used to. I pull back a little, peeking up at him, only to find that Oliver’s blue-green eyes have changed to dark blazing gold.