#Truly the simp we always know him as | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starlostseungmin · 2 months ago

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please forgive me to the person i’ve become when you read this feedback.

these are the visual representation of me while reading the whole story 🤧

I DARE YOU.

Felix x reader. (s)

Synopsis: The shy you meet the charming stranger, Felix, through a dare that leads you both into a whirlwind of a night filled with new, unexpected things. (17,6k words)

Author's note: It’s a late bday fic for Felix. I had soooooo much fun writing the smut in this one and I rarely said that so I hope you had fun too reading it x

Not this—being in a loud, dark club with Rex and her friends, a group of people you barely know, and the alcohol in your glass isn't any less foreign, a poor substitute for your usual chamomile tea.

A typical Friday night for you usually means snuggling on the sofa with your favorite blanket, a book in hand, and a cup of tea.

The music is thumping, the strobing lights flickering incessantly, and the sheer chaos of it all overwhelms your senses. It's overstimulating, like stepping into a world where you don't quite belong.

But here you are, trying to push past your comfort zone for one night, specifically for your best friend, Rex. You make the exception because it's her birthday.

You've known Rex since high school, and to this second, you're still not entirely sure how you two became best friends.

Rex is everything you aren’t—fierce, vibrant, and unapologetically confident—while you are introverted, shy, and awkward. Yet somehow, in that contrast, you found something that clicked. Maybe it's the way she effortlessly pulls you out of your shell or the way she always has your back without needing to say much.

For almost eight years now, this unlikely bond has stood the test of time, bridging the gap between your quiet, dull world and her wild, colorful one.

However, at times, the stark contrast between you and Rex pushes you to the edge. She thrives on excitement, constantly seeking new experiences, while you cling to routine. You like the comfort of predictability—having the same breakfast every day, enjoying the calm of your familiar surroundings. Rex, on the other hand, is always nudging you, sometimes even shoving you, to break free from that comfort zone. She wants you to explore, to live a little, and while you appreciate her intentions, it can feel overwhelming. She never seems to understand that trying new, exciting things isn’t natural for you the way it is for her.

Just like tonight. Rex has convinced everyone to play Never Have I Ever, and it quickly becomes apparent how out of place you are.

Every statement, every confession, is about wild, reckless things—everything you’ve never done. With each round, your glass remains untouched while everyone else takes shots, laughing as they reveal their mischievous pasts.

By the time the group is tipsy and lightheaded from confessing their wild and naughty escapades, you are still as sober as ever, quietly sitting there, feeling even more like a fish out of water.

Rex eventually notices your lack of participation. She puts down her glass and says, “Alright, this is getting boring. Let’s change the game!”

You notice her eyes flicking to you, and you feel your heart sink. “But I’m having fun,” you assure her, forcing an awkward laugh.

Your words are not entirely false. It isn’t like you aren’t having fun—it just isn’t your kind of fun.

Rex smirks, knowing you too well. She can see through your calm façade. “Sure you are. Alright, Never Have I Ever cheated on a test?"

Everyone else laughs, raising their glasses to take a shot, but your glass stays put.

“Guys, you shouldn’t cheat on...” your words trail off as you notice the looks they give you.

“See?” Rex says, turning back to you. “It’s not fun if you’re not participating.”

You scoff, but you can't really argue. It's true. The game isn’t exactly designed for someone like you.

“I’m still having fun,” you insist with a faint smile, but even you can hear how fake that sounds.

Rex lets out a sigh and scoots closer to you. “It’s my birthday, and I want my best friend to have fun on my birthday.”

One of her friends groans, putting her glass down with an exaggerated eye roll. “Whatever, I’m hitting the dance floor.” She slides out of the booth, and the rest follow, leaving you and Rex alone.

Maybe Rex’s birthday has become a bit boring because of you, but you told her before that you would’ve preferred a small gathering at your apartment, maybe just the two of you.

“I’m sorry I’m ruining your birthday,” you mumble, feeling guilty for being a party pooper and aware that it's unfair to her.

However, Rex’s attention has already drifted elsewhere—on someone, to be exact. She turns her head back at you with her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“He’s been checking you out,” she whispers against the loud music.

You snort and shake your head in disbelief, glancing in the direction she subtly nods toward, checking if she's telling the truth.

Across the room, a guy with bleached blond hair and tattooed hands sits casually, dressed in a leather jacket. His fair skin and delicate features are striking, but you can’t help but laugh to yourself. There is no way he is checking you out—not when Rex, your stunning, lively best friend, is sitting right next to you.

Before you can argue, Rex turns your head toward him. Your eyes lock with his instantly, and your heart skips a beat. You tell yourself it's just the loud, thumping music making your chest pound like that. He smiles faintly at you, and you quickly look away, feeling heat rise in your cheeks.

“Okay, new game!” Rex suddenly announces, clapping her hands.

You blink in shock. “Wait, what?”

“Don’t worry, it’s just between you and me,” Rex says with a mischievous grin, taking a second to sip her drink.

You raise an eyebrow, wary of what she has in mind. “Okay...?” you respond nervously.

“Truth or dare,” Rex finally reveals, her eyes gleaming with trouble. “But here’s the twist—there’s no truth.”

“Rex, I don’t—” you begin, but she cuts you off by covering your mouth with her hand.

“It’s my birthday,” she says, her voice low yet commanding. “You’re obliged to do whatever I ask.”

You sigh, nodding reluctantly. Rex removes her hand and holds yours instead, her fingers cool and reassuring despite her devious smile.

“My dear best friend,” she says, that mischievous grin lingering on her red-painted lips, “I dare you to kiss that guy.”

Your eyes follow her finger, and it's pointing at the bleached blond guy with the tattooed hands across the room.

“What? No way!” You blurt out, eyes widening in shock.

“Come on! It’s just a kiss. You can do it," Rex says casually, showing how different the two of you view this dare. She then squeezes your hand and adds, "Besides, he’s been staring at you all night.”

Your heart pounds, not from the music but from the sheer terror of Rex’s dare. Kiss a stranger? In a club? You aren’t Rex—confident and fearless. You’re the girl who barely participated in Never Have I Ever because the wildest thing you’ve ever done is stay up late to study for finals.

“But I… I don’t know him,” you stammer, your palms getting sweaty on your lap.

“That’s the point of the game!" Rex says lightly. "And it’s not like he hasn’t noticed you. He smiled, didn’t he?”

The idea terrifies you, but there is also a small part of you—buried deep under all the shyness and caution—that is curious. What if you step out of your comfort zone for once? What if you do something wild, something you’d never do on your own?

As if she hears your thoughts, Rex leans closer and softly says, “You’ve spent your whole life playing it safe. It’s just one kiss. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You glance back toward the guy. He’s still sitting there, calm and collected, his long bleached-blonde hair falling effortlessly around his face. He hasn’t looked away since your brief, flustered glance earlier. Instead, he seems… unfazed, but there’s something curious in his eyes, like he’s still watching, waiting.

“I can’t,” you mutter again, shaking your head, feeling that familiar wave of discomfort rise in your chest.

Rex leans in closer, holding your hand gently. “Look, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just want you to have fun for once, not think about everything so much. You trust me, right?”

Of course you trust her. Rex has been by your side for eight years, through thick and thin. As wild as she is, she always has your back, no matter what.

The logical part of your brain screams at you to refuse, to stay in your lane. But there’s another voice, quieter but growing louder with each passing second, telling you to just do it, to be bold, even if just for one night.

You inhale deeply, your hand still in hers, and with a shaky voice, you say, “Fine. But if I make a fool of myself, I'll kill you and leave your body in a ditch.”

Rex bursts out laughing, not finding your words threatening at all. “Deal! Now go get him, tiger!” she says, giving you a playful slap on the butt.

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” you mutter under your breath, standing up on legs already turning to jelly.

You look over your shoulder and find Rex grinning, clearly delighted. As encouragement, she gives you a nudge in the guy's direction.

As you walk toward him, each step feels surreal, heavier than the last. It doesn’t take long before the guy notices you, and to your surprise, his faint smile grows.

When you finally stop in front of him, you don’t know what to say. Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you regret even considering the dare. But despite everything, you hear your own voice ask, “Do you mind if I kiss you?”

There's no turning back now, and it’s not like he's the type to say no, not with the way he's looking at you—intrigued. And despite the panic in your chest, there’s something thrilling about the way he watches you.

He looks at you with a mix of surprise and amusement, then his smile turns soft. “How could I say no to that?” he says, his voice surprisingly low and deep.

Not giving yourself time to overthink, you close the gap between you and him, leaning in as he does the same until your lips and his meet in the middle.

The kiss isn’t wild or reckless like you imagined it would be. It’s gentle, slow, and—much to your surprise—perfectly in tune with the moment. It feels like the first time you’ve ever kissed anyone, full of nerves, fluttering excitement, and the kind of tenderness you hadn’t expected from a stranger.

When you pull back, your hand flies to your lips, barely believing you’ve just done that. Your heart is still racing, but this time, it isn’t just from fear. You feel the thrill and rush of stepping out of your comfort zone, and you think... maybe you can push yourself a little more, just a little bit.

Absentmindedly, you open your mouth and ask, “Do you want to get out of here?”

It's a typical Friday night for Felix—hanging at the club with his friends, having a few drinks, casually watching the scene. The same kind of night he's had countless times. His eyes wander across the room, drifting from one group of people to another, and then… he sees you.

You're completely out of place, dressed in something someone would wear to church on Sunday, your glasses slightly sliding down your nose, sitting with your hands clasped tightly in your lap. The glass you're holding? He's pretty sure it's just an accessory for your idle hand. Then he observes the people you're with—they're clearly here to let loose and have fun, his usual type—the kind of girls who are bold and uninhibited. But you? You're different, and that’s what intrigues him.

Felix isn’t being judgmental. He knows everyone needs to blow off some steam once in a while, but there's something about seeing you in this environment that captivates him. You don’t belong here, not really, and yet here you are. The juxtaposition of your quiet presence amidst the chaos of the club fascinates him. He finds himself watching you without meaning to, drawn to how out of place you are.

Then, your eyes meet. You look right at him from across the room, and he doesn't look away. He holds your gaze, wondering if you’ll hold it too, but you drop your eyes almost immediately.

The shyness in that simple act is oddly cute because most girls he meets in places like this are bold, forward. They don't shy away from eye contact, but you? There is something sweet in your hesitance.

The second time you glance over, Felix notices a change. You're a little braver, and this time, you don’t just look—you stand up. Your steps are hesitant but purposeful as you cross the room, and before he can think too much about it, you're right in front of him.

“Do you mind if I kissed you?” you ask, your voice soft, small yet determined.

Felix raises an eyebrow, surprised but amused. He can’t help but smile at the way you asked for permission. Most girls don’t ask—they just do. But your politeness, your shyness, the way you're so out of place in this club yet standing in front of him, asking so sweetly—it's irresistible.

He looks at you, his smile widening. “How could I say no to that?”

A kiss has always just been a kiss for Felix—a simple way to satisfy some biological need, with no deeper meaning behind it. But this? This kiss doesn’t feel like that.

The kiss takes him back to something he hasn’t felt in years—the thrill of a first kiss. The kind that's innocent, pure, and full of nervous excitement. He can’t remember the last time he had a kiss that made him feel like this—something chaste but electrifying all at once.

As you pull away, Felix almost groans in protest. He wants more, needs more of that flutter, that spark. His lips tingle, and he can tell yours do too, as your hand flies up to your mouth as if you can’t believe what just happened.

"Do you want to get out of here?" you ask, your voice shy, but with a daring edge that Felix hadn’t expected.

Your charm is something else—shy and demure one moment, then bold and forward the next, endlessly fascinating him. There's just something about you that makes this feel less like a random encounter and more like something worth exploring.

Consider his curiosity piqued, eager to see where this unlikely encounter will take him next. He meets your gaze, a playful smile tugging at his lips, then he says, "Lead the way!"

You turn, feeling the heat of his presence close behind you as you make your way through the packed club. The noise slowly recedes, replaced by a focused, almost intimate atmosphere between you.

As you reach the exit, Felix places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd. Once outside, the cool night air hits you, a refreshing contrast to the club’s stuffy heat.

Felix glances at you, his smile still in place, and asks, “So, what’s the plan?”

To be honest, you have no idea why you asked him out. You acted spontaneously, which is unlike you, but you know what you want. You crave the thrill and the excitement, and ultimately, more of that explosive kiss.

Without thinking, you reach for Felix’s arm, pulling him toward the dimly lit alley next to the club. The urgency between you both is palpable, the energy from that brief kiss still simmering just beneath the surface.

As soon as you're out of sight from the street, Felix pins you against a stack of old crates filled with empty beer bottles. His hands find your waist and pull you close. Your lips collide again, this time more passionate, more intense. Your heart is beating out of your chest as your fingers tangle in his long hair.

In the intensity of the moment, you lean back slightly, misjudging the proximity of the crate. Your head strikes the edge with a sharp thud, and the sudden pain makes you wince.

You gasp and accidentally break the kiss for a second, but you decide to laugh it off—you don’t want to ruin the moment.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice tinted with concern.

“I’m fine," you say, half-laughing.

Felix smiles, though concern fills his eyes as he leans in close. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m okay, I’m—” you begin to blabber, wanting to resume the heated moment by leaning in for another kiss, but you immediately stop when you notice the shift in his expression.

His hand reaches up to the side of your head, and that’s when you feel it too—the warm, sticky sensation spreading through your hair. Then, he shows you his fingers, coated with your blood.

“I don’t think you're okay,” he mutters, his voice suddenly serious. “You’re bleeding.”

You can feel the adrenaline and embarrassment mingling as the pain begins to set in.

Felix gently touches your shoulder, trying to comfort you as he guides you away from the alley. “We need to get this checked out. We need to go to the hospital.”

Oh, no! This was supposed to be your night of finally breaking out of your shell, not a night where you make a fool of yourself in front of a hot guy.

“It’s not a big deal. I don’t need to go to the hospital,” you insist, trying to brush off the situation.

He shakes his head firmly, but his hand remains gentle on the small of your back. “We’re getting this checked out. You can’t just ignore it.”

Without taking any of your excuses, Felix hails a taxi until one stops and pulls to the side of the road. He helps you get in, and on the ride to the nearest hospital, he checks on you every once in a while, asking if you're okay. His tatted hands and rough exterior are such a contrast to his gentle, attentive demeanor.

That only makes you hate how the night has taken a turn. The two of you could have done more than just kiss by now if it weren’t for you bumping your head on a stupid crate.

“Come back if you feel dizzy, nauseous, or if there’s a ringing in your ears,” the doctor says as she takes off her latex gloves, leaving the nurse to finish the rest.

Despite the night’s earlier excitement, you feel a tinge of embarrassment about the whole incident. You're thinking of faking a concussion just to stay the night in the emergency room, but you're aware that would only make him worry more about you.

Guess there's no other option but to push your way through this humiliation.

As you step out of the emergency room, you see him standing against the wall, looking impossibly cool in his rough leather jacket. With his striking features, he could’ve been doing a photo shoot for a magazine.

“Hi,” you nervously greet him.

The adrenaline has drained from your body, leaving you feeling deflated. It's like the girl who kissed a stranger in a dark alley has vanished, replaced by your usual shy, awkward self—plus, you now have a bandage on your forehead.

The magic of the night has faded, and you wouldn't blame Felix if he decided to leave now that he’s met the real you. He glances up from his phone, a soft smile stretching across his lips.

“Hey. You okay?” he asks, putting his phone back into the pocket of his leather jacket.

“Three stitches, no concussion,” you say, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Felix sighs, visibly relaxing.

“You know, you don’t have to wait for me. I can deal with this myself,” you say, feeling a little guilty. He’s already done enough by helping you get to the hospital.

“I can’t do that,” Felix says, his voice steady.

“Why not?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“I can’t just leave when you’re hurt,” he answers simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

That's such an unexpected answer from an unexpected man. He barely knows you, yet here he is, waiting outside an emergency room just to make sure you're okay. That thought warms you—but then it hits you: you don’t even know his name.

“Unless I’m actually concussed… do I know your name?” you ask with a shy laugh. “Or did we skip introductions?”

Felix chuckles, holding out his hand to you. “Felix,” he says, his deep voice sending a pleasant shiver through you.

You take his hand, offering your name in return. “Nice to meet you, Felix.”

It's about to get awkward from here, you can feel it. The momentum of the night has stalled, and now you aren’t sure what to say or do. You like him, but it feels like the window to continue this spontaneous night has closed. Maybe it’s better to retreat.

“I’d better head home,” you mutter in defeat, but deep down, you hope the end of the night won’t feel as anticlimactic as it seems.

To your surprise, Felix straightens up from the wall and turns toward the exit. With a warm and genuine smile, he offers, “Let me take you home.”

As Felix stands outside the emergency room, leaning against the wall, he notices you stepping out, looking more like yourself again—shy, awkward, but also kind of endearing. He can see the hint of embarrassment in your eyes, like you're expecting him to vanish now that things aren't as wild as they were earlier. But you have no idea he isn’t that kind of guy, not when it comes to this.

You walk over, your voice soft and uncertain as you greet him, “Hi.”

“Hey. You’re okay?” he puts on a smile, relieved that you're okay.

“Three stitches, no concussion,” you answer, trying to play it down.

“That’s a relief,” he sighs.

Honestly, if anything worse had happened to you, he would’ve felt responsible, and he can’t live with that. Sure, his appearance might have given off the wrong vibe, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. You need help, so he helps you.

“You know, you don’t even have to wait for me. I can just deal with it myself," you awkwardly clasp your hands in front of you and keep avoiding his eyes as you speak.

“I can’t do that,” he says; there’s no way he leaves you alone after everything.

“Why not?” you ask, genuinely confused.

Felix doesn’t really have an answer to that, so he slowly shrugs and says, “I can’t just leave when you’re hurt.”

You give him this look, like you're trying to figure him out. He guesses you don't expect him to care, but he does, and that is that.

A moment passes in silence, and you shift awkwardly in front of him. “Unless I’m actually concussed... do I know your name, or did we skip the introduction?”

It only hits him now that you both indeed haven't introduced each other. He chuckles and holds out his hand. “Felix.”

You take it, and your hand feels warm and delicate in his. “Nice to meet you, Felix.”

You seem like you're about to wrap up the night, but he can see it in the way you're fidgeting, like you're ready to go but also unsure about how to end things.

“I’d better head home,” you mutter, your voice almost apologetic.

But Felix isn’t ready to end the night, and he can tell you don’t want to, either—you just don’t have the nerve to ask. And honestly, he doesn’t want the moment to slip away, so he decides to give you an out.

“Let me take you home,” he offers, and when your eyes meet his, he can see the relief flicker across your face.

When the taxi pulls up outside your apartment building, he watches you try to act cool, but he can tell you’re hesitating. You don’t want the night to end any more than he does, but you aren’t going to say it.

Felix has been with enough people to know when someone is too shy to speak up, and you are definitely in that space. He leans in slightly and asks, “Do you mind if I come in for a bit? I’m afraid I need to use your bathroom.”

Your face lights up with a smile you can’t hide, and he has to hold back a grin of his own.

“I don’t mind at all," you say, trying so hard to conceal the excitement in your voice.

The two of you head inside. You lead the way to your apartment, climbing the stairs, giving him a view of your back as the hem of your dress sways while you walk until you reach the fourth floor.

Thank God for that! If you climbed another flight of stairs, he would have followed his intrusive thoughts and dropped to his knees to peek under your skirt to see what kind of underwear you’re wearing.

Felix bets it's white, cotton, probably with cute floral prints. He shakes the thought away when you abruptly stop walking as you arrive at the front door of your apartment.

Once you unlock the door, you open it and step aside to let Felix in. He flashes you a smile as he steps in the small yet cozy apartment. He glances around and sees the pictures on the wall, mostly of you and a tall girl with curly brown hair. He remembers her as one of the girls you’ve been with at the club.

“The bathroom is that way,” you tell him, and Felix makes his way down the hall.

Once inside, he wastes a bit of time washing his hands, fixing his hair, checking the hair products, all the while giving you a moment to settle.

When he comes out, you’re in the kitchen, your hair now tied back into a low bun, exposing your neck and the soft tendrils of hair on the nape of your neck. You look… different, but still really cute.

“Would you like a drink?” you ask, sauntering your way to the fridge.

“Anything cold would be nice,” he answers.

You take two cans of soda out of the fridge, bringing them with you to the living room and sitting on the small sofa.

“Sit down, please,” you say, permitting him to sit in the space next to you since there’s no other place to sit.

“This is a nice apartment,” he comments, his eyes glancing around while his hand works the tab on his soda can.

“Thanks,” you mutter with a smile, holding the can of soda in both hands. It has been opened, but you're not drinking it.

"I can safely assume you live with a roommate?" he asks, then takes a gulp of his soda, which instantly refreshes him.

"Yes," you answer. "Rex, she’s one of the girls... back in the club," you awkwardly explain, confirming that he's right—she's the same girl from the club.

"Is it short for Tyrannosaurus—" he pauses for dramatic effect, "—Rex?"

You let out a chuckle and push your glasses up your nose. "Her real name is Rebecca, but she insisted on being called Rex because it's..."

"Sounds cooler?" he easily guesses.

"Yeah," you nod in confirmation, "and it's her birthday today, so..."

"That's why you were at the club?" he asks, slowly getting his curiosity answered.

"I think it's obvious that I wasn't there because of my own volition," you openly admit.

Felix can see it now—the way you seemed out of place back at the club. It isn’t your scene, and it makes sense now that you explained it is Rex’s thing. He hesitates, feeling a question burning in his mind, one that he needs an answer to, regardless of what it might reveal.

"And the kiss?"

Oh, no! Not this again.

Please don't say that Felix is actually interested in Rex and that he was checking her out instead of you. This wouldn't be your first time, but what a pity! What a pity it would be if that turned out to be true.

Until Felix asked about the kiss and whether it was Rex’s idea or not.

Your throat tightens, but you know you have to be honest. “Rex dared me to do it,” you admit, your words tumbling out faster than you wanted.

He nods, but you can see a flash of disappointment in his eyes—brief but noticeable. Before he can respond, you rush to explain the rest of the truth.

“But the one we shared in the alley? That was me. I wanted that,” you add.

Felix gives you the chance to explain more, so you continue, determined to make him understand. You put your can of soda on the table and inhale before speaking.

“Earlier, during this game Rex and her friends played, they were talking about all these wild things they’d done, and I just sat there... realizing how much I’ve missed out on.” You pause to let out a sigh as the weight of your confession settles between you. “I’ve spent so much time focused on studying, hitting all my academic goals, that I never gave myself the chance to live. And I don’t want to wake up one day full of regret for not taking chances.”

You look up from your lap at him—not necessarily meeting his eyes, or else you'll be a nervous wreck. “So tonight, I decided to push myself for once. The kiss might’ve started as a dare, but when I pulled you into that alley… that was real. For the first time in my life, I felt so alive.”

Felix remains quiet for a moment, his eyes searching yours, taking in every word. You can feel his hesitation, though—a cautious distance. His concern isn’t just about your head injury; it's something more.

“You don’t have to do all that just because your friends have done it,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. “You do it when you’re ready.”

His words hit home, and you feel a wave of realization. The thrill and the pressure you’ve felt earlier are starting to clash with a deeper understanding of what you really want.

You may be naïve and know little about this intimate stuff, but you're also the one who knows you best, and you know what you want—you want this.

“I’m doing this for me. I want it. I'm ready," you unequivocally say, full of conviction.

Felix’s expression softens, but doubts linger in his eyes. “I think you know what kind of guy I am. I don’t do relationships. I… casually date. I’m not a good guy.”

You can’t help but smile at that, shaking your head in disagreement at his last statement. “You insisted on taking me to the hospital, waited until I got treated, and then made sure I got home safely. If that’s not a good guy, I don’t know what is,” you lay out all the facts on why he isn't what he says he is.

He sighs, clearly conflicted, running his hand through his long, bleached hair. “I’m just not sure if you really want to do this… with me.”

“I want to do this with you," you say without the slightest doubt.

There's a reason why he's here when he had his chances to walk out of this situation. He could have ditched you back there in the club, in the dark alley, or at the hospital. He could have gotten into that taxi and gone home, but instead, he chose to come in here.

Felix is quiet again, his eyes locked on yours as he considers what you said. Then, after what feels like an eternity, he lets out a sigh, letting the last bit of hesitation slip away from him.

"We should go to your bedroom," he says, his voice low but confident.

The excitement flares up in your chest, your heart racing as you rise from the sofa. This is it. The feeling you’ve been chasing all night—the sense of truly living, of stepping out of your comfort zone. You lead him to your bedroom, each step heavy with anticipation.

When you open the door to your bedroom, you pause for a moment, suddenly feeling vulnerable. It’s strange—no one ever warns you how personal it feels to show someone your bedroom. It’s not just a room; it’s a reflection of you, of your habits, your life. You close the door behind you, your breath catching as Felix steps in and takes a quick look around.

He glances over the shelves, where countless books are crammed into every available space. A small smile tugs at his lips, a look of slight amusement crossing his face as he takes it all in. It’s like he doesn’t expect this—your quiet, introverted world clashing with the chaotic energy of the night.

But then his eyes land back on you, and your pulse quickens. You’re alone now, really alone, in the privacy of your bedroom, and the reality of it all settles over you. You can feel the weight of the moment, not knowing how to begin but wanting to. You step closer to him, hoping he’ll take the lead.

Felix sits down on the edge of your bed, his eyes still on you. He pats the space beside him, an invitation, and you sit down next to him, nerves tingling under your skin.

"You have a very interesting room," he says with a playful smile, but there’s no mockery in his tone—only genuine surprise.

You shyly chuckle, your hands fidgeting in your lap. "Yeah, I’m… very aware."

He turns to you, his gaze softening. He’s studying you, taking you in, and when he looks into your eyes, you feel like he’s seeing something deeper. Then, as if realizing something, his brow furrows slightly.

“Can I take them off?" he asks, nodding toward your glasses. "Will you still be able to see without them?”

“I’m nearsighted, so yeah,” you confirm, your hand halfway to your face to take them off, but Felix gets ahead, gently removing them for you. Then he places them carefully on your bedside table.

The world around you becomes a soft blur, but Felix… Felix is in perfect focus. He’s all you can see. His delicate features stand out, his warm brown eyes locking onto yours, his freckles like tiny constellations dusting his cheeks and nose. It’s like he’s become the center of your universe, and nothing else matters in that moment.

You get a little overwhelmed as you take him in—his beauty so striking, so close, making your heart beat out of your chest. You wonder if he can hear it too.

"Can I take your hair down?" Felix asks, his voice soft but deliberate.

Unable to provide a verbal answer, you nod. His hand is quick to reach behind your head, releasing your hair from the tie, and you feel an unexpected wave of relaxation wash over you, like the tension you’d been carrying all night had been held there, in your hair.

Felix’s fingers move through the strands gently, combing through them, letting the ends slip through his fingers. The tattoos on his hand catch your attention, and as his sleeve rides up, you notice even more ink snaking up his arm.

"How many tattoos do you have?" you ask, unable to hide your curiosity.

"I stopped counting a long time ago," Felix chuckles, a lightness in his voice that makes you smile.

He notices your lingering gaze on his tattoos, and without hesitation, he starts unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt. He lets the fabric fall back, giving you a clearer view of the designs that cover his skin. The sight of his muscles beneath the inked patterns, the veins trailing down his arm, captivates you.

"Is it okay if I touch you?" you ask, your voice quiet, unsure if it’s too bold.

"You can touch me," he says with an encouraging smile, "anywhere."

The last word unexpectedly provokes you; it was just a word until Felix gives it a new meaning now, and it's been echoing in the back of your mind in his deep, low voice. Anywhere.

With a tentative hand, you reach out, slowly rolling his sleeve up higher. The tattoos become more detailed—the lines and shading intricate—but what holds your attention is the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. The combination of the ink and the physicality of him makes you feel a strange sense of intimacy. Afraid that you're overstepping, you let the sleeve fall back and flash him a smile of gratitude.

“You know this will be easier if you sit closer,” Felix says, his tone suggestive but gentle.

You shift closer, trying to keep your breath steady. The space between you shrinks, but the heat from his body seems to rise, making your heart race.

"Closer," Felix murmurs, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You move another inch.

"More," he says, his voice a bit firmer this time.

You scoot a little more until finally, there’s no space left between you. Your body is pressed against his, and the warmth from him feels overwhelming, your skin tingling from the proximity.

"I think you should put your hand around my neck," Felix suggests, his voice a low rumble.

"Are you sure?" you ask, still worried about overstepping.

"Of course," he reassures you, guiding your hand up to his shoulder.

From there, you let it drift to the back of his neck, feeling the strong line of muscle beneath your palm.

The two of you are incredibly close; you can feel his breath brushing against your cheek. As if the proximity isn't enough, his hand cups your jaw, his thumb softly rubbing your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine.

It doesn't take a genius to know what comes next; you can feel it coming as the tension intensifies with each passing second.

"I'm not a good kisser," you blurt out, your insecurities successfully breaking through the haze of the moment.

"You did just fine earlier," he says, watching as his thumb swipes across your lower lip.

You try to argue, but before you can say another word, Felix presses a soft kiss to your cheek, leaving a searing warmth behind.

"Stop thinking and just..." he trails off, kissing just beneath your eye, sending a shock of sensation through you, "… do it."

Before you can process his words, his lips find yours. The kiss is electric and powerful, wiping away every doubt and insecurity. The world narrows down to the feeling of his mouth on yours, the sound of your breath mingling in the quiet of your bedroom.

Felix pulls away just enough for you to catch your breath, his hand moving to brush your hair to the side. He does it carefully to avoid accidentally touching the bandaged wound on your forehead.

"Now," he says, voice deep with desire, "we’re going to put in a little tongue."

Dazed and a little disoriented from the kiss, you nod, your brain unable to compute a word.

He kisses you again, this time slower, more deliberate, teasing you with his tongue as it slides across your lips. It’s sensual and intimate, and when you let him in, the kiss deepens, and you try your best to move in sync with him.

When Felix pulls away, he’s grinning, looking impressed. "See? You’re a natural."

Flustered, you look down, but he isn’t having it. He wants your eyes, your full attention on him, so he puts his hand under your chin, gently angling your face back toward his.

Not giving you a moment to think, he plants a kiss on your lips again—gently, but there’s intensity to it, a sense of hunger that needs to be satisfied.

At the same time, his other hand travels down to your back, tracing down your spine before he withdraws it back to your front, reaching for the button of your dress.

You've been handling it well so far, but when he touches you there, it triggers the alarm bells in your head. You try to convince yourself that it's okay; you trust Felix, and he's not going to harm you, but your body abruptly freezes, and you stiffen against him.

Felix notices immediately and takes his hands off of you, concern painted on his small face.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asks softly, not wanting to alarm you further.

First, it was Rex’s birthday party, and not long after that, you did it again by bumping your head during a makeout session in the dark alley, and now this. You sigh and look down at your lap, wondering why you keep sabotaging your life like this.

"I’m sorry, I just... I–I wasn’t ready for that," you meekly say, looking down at your lap, feeling embarrassed.

"That’s okay," he says with a soothing voice. "I’d rather you tell me when you’re uncomfortable."

Anyone else might have been annoyed or disappointed, but Felix—he’s patient, gentle, and very understanding. You feel a rush of gratitude for him.

"Okay," you murmur, nodding.

"Or you can just slap me next time," he jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

Slapping his face would feel like vandalizing the Mona Lisa, so you shake your head in strong disagreement while softly laughing, "No. I wouldn’t do that."

Thanks to you freaking out without reason, you have to start all over again, and you can only hope that Felix has some patience left for you.

You watch as he glances toward your bedside table, eyeing the small stack of books. "Are these the ones you’re reading?"

"Yeah," you reply, your smile returning.

"You’re telling me you’re reading five books at once?" he asks. His tattooed fingers trail along the spines as he reads the titles under his breath.

"Three are for school," you say, chuckling, "but the other two are for fun."

"Oh, so you do know how to have fun," he teases you with a charming smile that makes his eyes lively.

You know he's trying to lighten the mood, and you feel thankful that he indeed still has some patience left in him.

Felix picks up the smallest one from the top of the stack and flips through the pages. "Poetry," he remarks.

"Yeah," you nod, feeling a bit shy.

He looks at you with something new in his eyes. "Would you read me one?"

"A poem?" you stammer.

"No, the index page," he teases you yet again.

You laugh, feeling a bit silly for asking, and then take the book from him. You open it, easily finding the page you marked as your favorite poem.

"Okay... I’ll try," you say as you clear your throat.

Your fingers nervously brush the edges of the page, eyes glancing at the words, but you’re aware of Felix’s gaze on you. His presence is overwhelming—his closeness, the subtle intensity in his expression.

Despite everything, you begin reading, your voice low and a little shaky.

"Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which I cannot touch because they are too near."

Felix leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. His hand moves to the back of your neck, brushing the loose strands of your hair away.

You pause, feeling the pressure of his nearness, but he nudges you gently.

"Keep reading," he whispers against your skin, the warmth of his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You swallow, forcing yourself to focus. Your voice is a little shaky as you continue.

"Your slightest look easily will unclose me though I have closed myself as fingers; you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens—"

Felix’s lips press softly against the corner of your mouth just as your voice falters. You draw in a breath, trying to steady yourself, but his kiss lingers, feather-light and teasing.

You glance at him, the lines of the poem slipping from your mind.

"Go on," he murmurs, his mouth now brushing your jawline. His hand slips to your waist, holding you in place as if keeping you tethered to the moment.

"I... I—" you stammer, your focus crumbling under his touch, his lips trailing a path down to your neck. You grip the book tighter, trying to maintain the thread of the poem, your voice coming out as a breathy whisper: "you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose—"

Felix presses another kiss just below your ear, making your breath hitch. He’s being gentle but deliberate, his lips grazing your skin with an intention that makes it almost impossible to concentrate.

Your heart bursts, the words on the page becoming blurry. "Felix..." you murmur, caught between the poem and the sensation of his kisses.

"Don’t stop," he whispers again, this time against the curve of your neck, sending a rush of warmth through you. "I want to hear the rest."

Your voice quivers as you try to continue, the lines of the poem mixing with the feeling of his lips.

"Or if your wish be to close me, I and my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending—"

His kisses grow slower, more languid, as if savoring every inch of your skin. Each one draws you further away from the poem, your pulse quickening under his touch. He pulls back just slightly, and his eyes meet yours, his gaze heavy with desire, but still, he urges you on.

"Finish it," he says softly, his thumb tracing your lower lip as he holds your gaze.

You exhale shakily, barely able to focus anymore, but you try.

"Nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility..."

Before you can finish the last line, Felix’s lips capture yours, cutting off the rest of the poem. His kiss is deeper this time, not asking for permission but claiming the moment as his own. The book slips from your hand, forgotten, as you lean into him, your breath mingling with his.

The poetry becomes a distant memory as his kisses consume you, every touch drawing you further into him. And for the first time, you don’t feel the need to pull back or hesitate. You melt into the moment, into him, as the poem fades into the background, replaced by the quiet intensity of Felix’s lips on yours.

The poem may be incomplete, but the moment is whole.

Felix watches as you fumble with the edges of the poetry book, your nervousness plain in the way your fingers tremble. He can sense how hard you’re trying to focus, trying to find your voice in the moment.

There’s a certain charm in how unsure you are, the way your eyes keep darting up to him, like you’re looking for some kind of permission. But he knows you don’t need it. You want this—he can feel it in the air between you.

When you finally start to read, your voice is soft, hesitant.

“Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence...”

Felix can barely concentrate on the words. It’s your voice—that shaky, uncertain quality—that pulls him in, and you’re so close. He leans in, pressing the warmth of his lips against your cheek, testing, teasing. He feels the way you stiffen, your breath catching. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but the urge to touch you, to close that gap, is too strong.

"Keep reading," he murmurs, his lips brushing your skin, barely above a whisper. He feels your pulse quicken beneath his touch.

You take a deep breath and continue, your voice even softer now, trying to hold it together.

"Your slightest look easily will unclose me though I have closed myself as fingers..."

As your voice trails off again, Felix can't resist. His lips graze the corner of your mouth, light and fleeting. He watches your eyes flutter, sees the way you're barely hanging onto the thread of the poem, and it makes him smile inwardly. He pulls back just enough to see the heat in your cheeks, the uncertainty fighting with desire in your eyes.

"Go on," he urges, this time pressing his lips to the soft skin just beneath your jawline. His hand slips to your waist, fingers curling lightly around you, holding you steady, grounding you as he teases.

"I–I..." Your voice falters completely as his lips trail lower, brushing the sensitive spot near your neck.

He loves the way you stammer, the way your breath comes in shallow gasps.

"You open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens—"

Felix hears your voice waver again, and he chuckles softly against your neck. He knows exactly what he’s doing. The poem doesn’t stand a chance against his kisses, but he likes this game, this slow unraveling of your composure.

"Felix..." you murmur, barely able to hold onto the words.

He pulls back just enough to speak, his breath warm against your ear. "Don’t stop." His voice is low, coaxing, as he brushes another kiss just below your ear. "I want to hear the rest."

You try—he can see you trying—but the way you tremble beneath his touch makes it almost impossible for you to concentrate. He watches you struggle, a mix of amusement and desire in his gaze as you fight to continue.

"...Or if your wish be to close me, I and my life will shut very beautifully..."

Felix’s lips move slowly across your skin, savoring every inch. He can feel the tension in you, the way you’re holding onto control by a thread. But then, something shifts. He presses one last kiss to your neck, soft and lingering, and watches as your resolve crumbles. The book slips from your hands, your breath hitching in your chest.

“Finish it,” Felix whispers, his thumb grazing your lower lip. He can see the words have all but left you, but he waits, eyes fixed on your trembling lips.

"...The power of your intense fragility..."

Before you can finish the line, Felix presses his lips to yours. The words are lost as he kisses you, claiming the moment. There’s no hesitation in the way your body responds, melting into him as if you’ve been waiting for this all night. The book falls from your hands, forgotten, as his hands move to pull you closer.

He feels the way you surrender to the kiss, how every bit of uncertainty you held before dissolves. His kiss deepens, slow but deliberate, until he pulls back just enough to look at you, lips still close, your breaths mingling.

Felix takes a quick check to see if you're comfortable enough to continue, his thumb brushing across your cheek as he leans his forehead against yours. He can feel the way you’re still caught in the moment, still wanting more.

His hand slides down to your shoulder, tracing the curve of your spine. He brushes your hair to the side, kissing you again—slower this time, deeper. The way you respond, your lips meeting his with growing confidence, only pulls him in more.

Felix takes your hand and gently places it on his chest. He feels the way your hand stays immobile for a moment, but then it starts to move, roaming curiously over his body. Your touch is tentative but warm, and soon enough, your fingers tug at the opening of his shirt, revealing a peek of inked skin underneath. Felix notices the way your curiosity lights up your face. “Do you want to see the rest of my tattoos?”

You hesitate, biting your lip as you think about it, unsure if you should say yes. To avoid letting him hear how eager you are, you nod instead.

“But you have to help me with the buttons,” he says, glancing down at his shirt.

It’s a subtle invitation, but the way he says it makes you feel like you’re in control. You start undoing the buttons, one by one, your fingers working carefully, as if each button is a gateway to something unknown. When you finish, you stop, leaving the fabric still draped across his chest. There’s a moment of hesitation, as if parting the shirt will reveal something too intimate, something more than just skin.

Felix senses your nerves, so he does the rest; he shrugs the shirt off his shoulders, revealing the ink that covers his chest and arms. Normally, he’s confident about his body, but under your gaze, he feels a flicker of vulnerability. You’re studying him, and he can feel the weight of it, like you’re looking past the surface.

“It’s all over you,” you mutter in awe.

One, in particular, seems to draw your attention—the dragon on his ribcage. Felix notices the way your hand lingers there, eyes fixed on the intricate design. He smiles softly, taking your hand and pressing it gently against the dragon.

“Here... feel it,” he says, guiding your touch.

Your fingers trace the lines of the tattoo, feather-light and full of wonder. Every slight graze of your fingertips sends a rush through him, and the way you’re touching him so delicately is like you’re trying to memorize the feel of each tattoo.

“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice soft but laced with curiosity.

“I had no idea I liked tattoos until now,” you innocently answer.

There's something so honest in your words, and Felix can’t help but smile, feeling the tension between you shift into something deeper, more intimate. He watches you as your fingers continue to explore, and for the first time in a long while, he feels a kind of peace in this closeness, like it’s more than just physical. There’s something in the way you touch him, like you’re seeing him for the first time—not just his body, but all the stories inked into his skin.

Then you take your hand back and fidget in your seat. You open your mouth, but no words come out. After a while, you ask, “Should I undress?”

“Only if you want to,” he says, not wanting to pressure you and also trying to make it clear that this is on your terms.

With a shy nod, you start moving, fingers flying to the buttons of your dress, fumbling a little in your nervousness. Felix notices and, sensing your discomfort, turns his head away, giving you the privacy you need. He helps by dimming the lights on your bedside lamp, knowing that a girl like you prefers the softer glow to ease the tension. Now, the room is bathed in a quiet, warm light, making everything feel more intimate, more comfortable.

“Do you need help?” he offers after a moment, his back still to you.

“I’m done anyway,” you respond, your voice softer now.

Felix hears the faint sound of your dress hitting the floor, and he inhales, preparing himself for what he's going to see. He turns his head slowly, careful not to look directly at you until he’s sure you’re comfortable. His eyes first meet yours, searching for any sign that you’re nervous, that you want him to stop, but you hold his gaze, and that’s all the permission he needs. His eyes travel down, finally taking in the sight of you.

The first thing that catches his attention is the unexpected—the matching silk and lace set you’re wearing, soft and delicate against your skin. It’s a contrast to the image he had in mind, and it takes his breath away. The colors, the fabric—it all highlights your natural beauty in a way that almost overwhelms him.

Beautiful. That’s the only word that comes to mind, but even that feels like it doesn’t do you justice. You’re beyond that. You’re captivating in a way that makes him hesitant to even touch you, as if the act itself would somehow break the spell between you.

“I want to touch you,” he admits, his voice trembling with restraint, overwhelmed by how much he desires you but not wanting to rush.

“Okay,” you say, so simply, so openly.

The intimacy of the moment is overwhelming. Felix is sitting there, shirtless, and the way he’s looking at you makes your skin tingle. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken questions.

After a while, you finally manage to speak. “Should I undress?”

Felix’s gaze is soft, his voice gentle when he responds, “Only if you want to.”

His words reassure you, but still, your hands tremble as you reach for the buttons on your dress. You fumble with them, nervous fingers struggling to move faster. Felix, sensing your discomfort, turns away, giving you a moment to compose yourself. It’s a small gesture, but it makes you feel better, like he understands without needing to be told.

You manage to undo the last button, letting the dress slip down your shoulders and fall to the floor with a soft thud. You glance at Felix, and he still isn’t looking. He’s turned the light down, creating a softer, warmer atmosphere that eases some of the tension in your chest. It’s as if he knows that you’d rather not be fully exposed in the harsh glow of bright light.

“Do you need help?” he asks, his voice careful, like he’s afraid of pushing you too far.

“I’m done anyway,” you reply, your voice shaky but steady enough.

Felix exhales, turning back to face you slowly, almost cautiously. He looks into your eyes first, making sure you’re okay before letting his gaze travel down. When his eyes finally take in the sight of you, you see something shift in him. His expression softens, and you feel your heart pounding in your chest, almost painfully so.

You weren’t sure what he’d expect to see, but the look on his face—like he’s in awe—makes you feel beautiful in a way you’ve never felt before. You're wearing your favorite matching set, silk and lace, in a color that contrasts perfectly with your skin. You chose it thinking you might need something that makes you feel confident, but now, under Felix’s gaze, you wonder if it was the right choice. But then you see the way he looks at you, like you’re something precious, and all your doubts melt away.

“I want to touch you,” Felix says softly, his voice trembling, almost as if he’s afraid to break the moment.

“Okay,” you answer, trying to sound calm even though your heart feels like it’s about to explode.

Felix doesn’t rush. His movements are slow, deliberate. He brushes your hair aside, his fingertips barely grazing your skin, but it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. His knuckles trace down your chest, stopping at the center, right between your breasts. His hand rests flat there, and you feel the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin, the beat of your heart thudding loudly under his touch.

“You're so beautiful,” he softly murmurs as he looks into your eyes.

You can feel heat spreading across your face. You want to say something, but the words get stuck in your throat. Instead, you just look down, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, by how gentle and caring he’s being.

Felix leans in, and when he kisses you, it’s not rushed. His lips are soft, and the kiss is gentle, as though he’s trying to coax you out of your shell. You kiss him back, a little more confidently this time, the warmth of his body pressing against yours making everything feel more natural.

The more time you spend with Felix, the more certain you feel that you’re in the right place, with the right person. His presence is calming, his touch patient and careful. Every kiss, every gentle brush of his hand against your skin reminds you that he’s giving you all the time in the world. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t push you beyond what you’re ready for, and that thought alone is enough to make your heart swell.

Felix holds back so much—it’s evident in the way he slows his movements, adjusting to your hesitance, waiting for you to catch up, to feel comfortable. You notice how he looks at you, always checking, always making sure you’re okay with what’s happening. He’s so understanding that you can feel your insecurities start to melt away, one by one, like the weight of them no longer matters in this space you’ve created together.

As the kissing becomes more intense, your breathing picks up, and the room feels warmer. You feel his strong yet gentle hand resting on your shoulder, his fingers playing with the strap of your bra, and you know what comes next.

This time, you decide to take the initiative and ask, “Do you want me to take these off?”

“If you allow me to,” he answers with a soft smile.

You’ve always known your body isn't the kind men fantasize about, or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. “They’re not—They’re not my best features,” you meekly admit.

Felix’s eyes don’t waver, and his smile turns into a playful smirk, one that both teases and comforts at the same time. “How can I know for sure when I haven’t seen them?”

You feel a smile tugging at your lips; he has a fair point, and you can’t argue with him when he looks at you like that—like he sees you, not just the parts you want to hide.

You nod, giving him permission, and lean forward slightly to make it easier for him to reach behind you. His fingers find the clasp of your bra almost immediately, without hassle.

The sound of it unclasping makes your breath hitch, anticipation swirling in the air between you, and then he pulls back just enough to let the bra fall away, his fingers gently sliding the straps down your shoulders. His movements are slow, with excitement simmering underneath, as if he’s unwrapping a precious gift.

And then, you’re bare in front of him, vulnerable in a way that sends a nervous thrill through you.

Felix doesn’t rush to fill the silence. He doesn’t gawk or make you feel exposed. Instead, he looks at you with a soft, quiet admiration that makes your heart flutter.

“They're perfect,” he says, and the sincerity in his praise makes your insecurities seem small, insignificant.

Felix's breath catches in his throat at the sight of you, bare in front of him. The soft curves of your chest stir something deep inside him, and for a moment, he has to hold back from letting his hands act purely on impulse. He swallows hard, trying to keep his cool, even though the urge to touch you is overwhelming.

“They’re perfect,” he says softly, his voice rougher than he intended. He means it. It’s not about size or shape—he just likes seeing you, just like this.

If he's being honest, you’re not what Felix thought he always wanted. But now, with you in front of him, he finds himself thinking that you’re more than enough—perfect, in fact.

He lets himself lose a bit of that self-control, his hand reaching out, grazing your skin before cupping your breast, his gentle yet curious fingers exploring the softness of your chest. They fit perfectly in his tattooed hands, and he feels heat rising in him.

“See? They’re perfect,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin as if to prove the point.

You remain quiet as he touches you, but your eyes go wide, lips parting slightly, and then, unexpectedly, you run your palms over your own breasts, fingers grazing your nipples with a restless, almost nervous motion.

The sight of you touching yourself, so innocently but also with that hidden desire, nearly drives him over the edge. He has to clench his jaw to stop himself from groaning aloud.

"Why are you looking at them like that?" you curiously ask in a shy voice.

“Like what?” he asks, his voice deep and low, almost a growl as he leans in closer, needing to hear you say it.

“Like you want t-to…” You hesitate, stumbling over your words.

“Lick them? Suck them?” he finishes the sentence for you, the words falling from his lips with an intensity that makes you look down at your lap, cheeks heated.

You nod, too shy to say it aloud.

Felix exhales slowly, his restraint hanging by a thread. “Come here!” his voice is rough, almost commanding as he gestures for you to sit on his lap.

Biting your lip, you crawl onto him and sit right on his lap.. You freeze for a moment, probably feeling his hard flesh prodding under you.

"You can ignore that," he tells you, at least for now, but he knows both of you can’t ignore that for long.

Somehow, that thought worries him, and he expected you to sit stiff as a board on his lap, but you immediately settle in close, and when he puts his arm around you, you let out a ragged sigh, instantly melting into him.

Fuck, you're so close, especially that part of you, hanging so close to his mouth. He gulps air and reminds himself to take things slowly. This is about you, not him.

You put your hand under his arm and grasp at his back, your hard nipples grazing his chest in the process, and Felix can’t resist cupping your breasts and rubbing his fingers over them.

Soon, your body softens around him, but his hands grow rough as he touches you, molding you to him as he claims your mouth. The kiss is a savage thing of teeth and tongues, but there’s no hint of protest from you. Instead, you match his roughness for roughness, kissing him back until you run out of breath.

As you come up for air, he covers your nipple with his mouth and sucks hard. He pulls you close so he can do the same with the other one; this time, he has your nipple rolling on his tongue. Oh, he can do it all night, just playing with your soft mounds.

Your fingers make their way through his hair, tugging at it as you arch your back with unconscious demand. It's apparent that you love this, losing your mind over his touches.

Felix lets go of your breast, then drags his lips upward, climbing the column of your throat until they find yours, kissing your mouth with such intensity that it causes you to sharply inhale air.

As he's kissing you, his hands refuse to remain idle. He cups your breasts, stroking the buds until they ache and pinches them, sending a burst of sensation straight to your core. With caution, he takes it to the next level, shifting his focus to another sensitive part of you. He's smoothing a hand over your stomach, and he can feel your muscles clench. Cautiously, he slides a hand up your inner thigh.

“I want to touch you here,” he says while gently palming your sex with a bold grasp, and the heat of his touch spreads through the fabric of your panties, searing hot.

Your hand immediately flies to grip his wrist, intending to pull him away, but your hand stays there; if anything, you pull it back and let it rest on his inked forearm.

“Is that permission?” he whispers into your ear.

He sees the conflict in your eyes. He guesses the reason you hesitate is that this is new to you, and you don't know how to handle this side of yourself. After a while, your body wins over your hesitant mind as your hips arch against his hand, asking him to continue, asking him for more.

He pushes your underwear to the side, and as he kisses your neck, his fingers trace your bundle of nerves, circling it, then applying the gentlest of pressure to test whether you like it or not.

A low moan slips out of you, and he can feel you tugging at his hair, hard.

"Do you want me to keep my hand there?" he asks as he looks into your dazed eyes.

You innocently nod.

"All right. I'll do that," he says with a hasty kiss on your lips. He continues by tracing your slick entrance with his fingertips, touching you there lightly, trailing around and around in dizzying circles.

"Does that feel good?" he asks, barely audible.

Still unable to give him a verbal answer, you nod again.

He aims his parted mouth toward your neck and purposely scrapes his teeth against your skin before he licks and kisses you there, causing goosebumps to spread over your skin.

"Will you let me get inside?" he asks for permission as his fingers tease your entrance.

It's obvious that you want it from the way you're arching your hips against his hand, but he doesn't want to risk losing you to the nerves again; he needs to hear you say it this time.

"Yes," you breathlessly say with a small nod.

With your consent given, his fingers search through your folds, coating them with your essence, and he lingers around your entrance for a little while before pushing one finger into you.

He feels your sharp intake of air as your head rests so close to his, your teeth faintly biting your lower lip to muffle the noises you make.

Felix gives you time to adjust before adding another digit. Two fingers are inside you now, pumping them, and he curls them, finding that spot that makes you...

"Oh!" you gasp, your hand grasping at the end of his hair like it gives you a lifeline. Your legs tremble, causing you to lose your balance, and you almost topple back, but Felix is quick to grip your waist to keep you steady.

The whole thing is so cute. Felix rubs his lips to hide a grin as you steady yourself on his lap and fold your hands in your lap. He knows that if he continues, you’d likely fall to the floor. You're the kind of girl who gets weak when you get hot, and don’t get him wrong; he loves that. If anything, it makes every bit of effort it has taken to get past your guard worth it.

"It's better if we lay down," he suggests as he removes the strand of hair caught between your lips.

"Okay," you say, your voice small and filled with obedience.

Once you get off his lap, Felix takes the lead again. He stretches out near the center of the bed, propping himself up on an elbow, and pats the space next to him. No moment of hesitation this time, you crawl across the bed and lay down next to him.

Felix leans over you and kisses you, starting right back at the beginning with innocent brushes of both of your lips and teasing licks before taking your mouth once again. He wouldn't say you're that great of a kisser, but it's entertaining feeling you learn. You may lack in skill, but you make up for it with your eagerness.

He puts your hand on his bare chest, letting you roam free from there; he needs you to feel him too, how his body heats all over from his desire for you. You drag your hand down his chest, fingers trailing the hard ridges of his abs, and then you keep heading down south, meeting the waistband of his jeans.

Felix is unprepared when your hand suddenly goes to his crotch and strokes over the fly of his pants. Pleasure courses through him, and his cock jumps in excitement, a hoarse groan slipping out of his parted mouth.

He remains calm even though you've just awakened a part of him that he wants to keep tamed, for now. He notices the curious hand and then the curious eyes.

"Want to touch it?" he offers, his eyes half shut, heavy with lust.

"Can I?" you ask back instead of answering.

It's about time to set it free anyway; his jeans have been tightening around the crotch for quite some time. He unzips the fly open, then tugs at the waistband of his jeans and pulls it low enough to let his swollen member out of its confines.

Your hand lingers on his abdomen, hesitating to put your hand on the thing you're curious about.

He takes your hand, puts it on his cock, and then makes you close your fingers around it. The sight of your soft, delicate hand wrapped around his cock makes his heart thrumming inside his chest.

"This is my cock," he says, trying to keep his voice calm.

He guides you to stroke your hand on it, pumping it up and down his length, showing you the pace he prefers: slow but steady. "I want you to tell me when you want it."

You swallow air and look down to see that he's no longer guiding you; you're stroking his cock on your own, and he must say, you're doing so good at it.

He returns the favor by reaching down between your legs, touching you there again. His fingers meet your wetness, hot and slippery, tantalizing him.

After a moment, he decides to hover above you, letting go of your lips to start making a trail of kisses down your front. Your chest is heaving as he gets closer to your core, but he does the unexpected by detaching his mouth.

"Do you mind if I take this off?" he asks, fingers tugging at the elastic band of your underwear.

You lick your swollen lips and lowly mutter, "No."

He flashes you a soft smile before doing what he asked. His palm scrapes up the outside of your leg as he pulls your underwear down. You help by lifting your hips to make it easier for him to take it off.

Felix stands at the end of the bed with your underwear in his hand. He lets you watch as he takes a long sniff of it; you smell so heavenly that he wants this smell all over him. But first, he has to make it fair. He takes his jeans off along with his underwear, exposing his naked body in all its glory for you—just for you.

In return, he gets to see all of you, your body wrapped in miles and miles of soft skin. His eyes feast on every part of you, but you cross your thighs together, blocking him from seeing the thing that tantalized him all night.

He runs his tattooed hands down your legs, offering you his warmth and comfort as a way to assure you that he wants nothing but to make you feel good. When he deems you're relaxed enough, he parts your legs open, and his eyes widen as if he sees something that goes beyond what his brain can comprehend.

"You're so wet for me," he says, swallowing air as the sight suddenly makes his throat dry.

Felix satisfies his need by taking a closer look at it, his eyes darkened and fixated on the thing that endlessly tantalizes him. He licks his lips in reaction to the overwhelming urge to taste you.

He uses his thumb to circle your clit, which engorges with every motion. "It wants my mouth so badly," he tells you, his eyes dark and heavy with lust.

Felix presses his cheek to your inner thigh and, ever so softly, places a long kiss on the skin. It's close to where he wants to be but not enough. His need grows desperate.

"Put us both out of our misery and let me taste you."

Felix is perfect. He stands there like carved stone, but his skin is smooth and hot to the touch, firm but giving, alive. His muscles hunch and shift as he moves, and the dragon tattoo winks at you as he steps out of his pants; the motion alone is so sexy.

This is Felix in all of his naked glory. He is perfection, even that part of him—gosh, especially that part of him. His erection demands your full attention, hard and veiny, in flawless proportion to the rest of his beautiful body. You have never given a man oral sex before, but your mouth waters at the sight of it. You want it.

You can’t remember how to breathe as he puts his tattooed hands on you, rubbing them up and down the outside of your legs, making you tingle down there. You see how he quietly inhales air before parting your legs open and lets all the air out of his mouth as he shifts his eyes to see what's between your legs.

It's the most private part of you, and you expect him to see it in disgust, but the way he looks at it... you see nothing but pure admiration. He puts his focus there, needing more time to process what he's seeing.

"You're so wet for me," he says, barely audible as he holds his breath.

He bends down close to your wet flesh, making your nervousness spike to heart-pounding levels, and his eyes never stray away from what he wants. Then his thumb meets the peak of your sex, gently rubbing it, and you quietly moan under your breath.

"It wants my mouth so badly," he says, receiving your body's signals too well.

The little kisses he places on your inner thighs feel soft, but you can see that it's not quite what he wants; he's so close to it, yet he handles his self-control really well.

He closes his eyes for a second, and when he opens them, they immediately find yours. Then he murmurs, "Put us both out of misery and let me taste you."

It hits you now that he truly wants this, you. He likes what he sees, and his craving for your most private parts is real. It's dirty but highly erotic and exciting. You want to give it to him; you do, but you doubt that the reality will meet his expectations.

“Will you be disappointed if I don’t like it and I don’t respond like other women?” you ask, feeling a little anxious, thinking that you’re about to ruin the moment. Again.

“If you don’t like it, then we’ll move on,” he simply says, spreading your legs wider and then landing a gentle, closed-mouth kiss on your clit, catching you off guard.

Your body stiffens for a second, not expecting that sensuous jolt, and then you relax in the next second.

"Hate that?" he asks with wistful, downturned eyes.

"I..." You still can't decide if you like it or not; you need more—

Felix lands another kiss, followed by a slow tasting of his tongue on it. He hums his approval and covers your sex with his mouth, sucking with slight pressure as his tongue laps over your clit, repeatedly.

Your mind shuts down; your body slowly goes limp as heat blooms inside you, and your face buries in the blanket as the pleasure intensifies. This feeling is new to you; your body is in a state of shock from the immense sensations, and you feel like you're about to cry when he abruptly stops.

"You don't like it?" he asks after getting no answer from you. "Let me try it another way..."

Felix pushes two fingers into you, and your eyes roll to the back as he begins a steady pace, combining it with his tongue flickering over your cunt, and somehow, you can’t stop your hips from rising to meet his thrusts.

Oh God! You're riding his hand and smothering his face with your wet cunt. You tell yourself to stop, but you can't; you find your hands tangled in his long, bleached-blond hair instead. You're tightening around him, so wet now you can hear the slippery sounds every time he pumps his fingers into you.

"I'll stop," Felix says as he licks his glistening wet lips, then rubs his tongue over you fast and hard, making you clench helplessly around his fingers.

"Felix..." you breathlessly call his name. You can't believe how needy you sound—almost pathetic even.

"One last taste..." Felix says before planting his mouth on you again. He sucks with perfect pressure, his tongue cleverly dragging out the pleasure to keep your release out of reach. He presses a parting kiss to your sex and lifts his head, stopping for real this time.

"Yeah, you look ready now," he says it so low it's almost like a whisper.

Truthfully, you've been ready for a while now, and you love the idea of demanding his... cock and him providing it; you just can’t get those words past your lips.

Apparently, the look on your face tells it all. As he props a hand next to your waist, he looks at you and asks, "Do you want it?"

You stifle a nod, and you're aware that's not enough to convey how much you want it.

His hand reaches for the strand of hair covering your face and asks again, "Do you want it now?"

Want, want, want. You eagerly respond in your head, but you force yourself to remain calm and say, "Yes."

Felix nods and lands a kiss along your jaw, then drags his lips close to your ear. With a hoarse voice, he whispers, "I'll give it to you."

His warm, soft yet firm body blankets yours as his lips bombard you with kisses, each kiss peeling away your senses along with your worries and insecurities; you eventually stop thinking altogether.

"Excuse me for a second," he says with a kiss on your lips, getting off the bed to look for something on the bedroom floor.

As Felix picks up his jeans from the floor, you watch the muscles on his back bunch and shift as he moves, admiring the twin indentations at the base of his spine. The view is nothing compared to when he turns around, showcasing his ethereal visuals and a godly figure of chiseled abs, not forgetting his cock in a size that demands your attention.

He gets onto the bed, kneeling and using his teeth to tear through the foil packet to extract the condom.

"Want to help me with it?" he offers, his eyes sparkling in the dimly lit room.

You swallow air and say, "Yes."

Your hands aren't steady, so you and he end up doing it together, and once you’re both done with it, he pulls you close. You shiver at the feel of your skin coming into contact; your nipples graze his chest, and his length burns against your lower belly. You suddenly feel very self-conscious.

Felix runs his hands up and down your back as he angles his head, trying to catch your gaze but keeps failing.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

You look at the hollow in his collarbone and hunch your shoulders forward. "I feel—I feel naked."

“We’re both naked," he states the obvious with a light smile.

You don’t know how to explain that you’re not only feeling naked on the outside but also from the inside, and that if he looks into your eyes, he’d see all of you. No one wants to see that. This is supposed to be fun and educational, not soul-baring.

Felix flashes you a smile as he tilts your head by your chin, and you catch a glimpse of tender eyes before you close yours, knowing that he's about to kiss you.

Soon, his warm lips brush over yours, tasting of him, you, and sex. His hands caress you, gently kneading the flesh of your waist before grabbing you by the thighs and hooking them around him.

Slowly, he lowers you onto the bed and then covers your body with his. He places sweet little kisses on your jaw, your neck, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, and eventually, your lips.

“If you don’t like it, if something hurts... I want you to talk to me, okay?"

As always, you give him a nod before saying the words, "Okay."

"Okay," he repeats, then sweetly kisses your lips. "Now, can you turn over for me?"

You obey him, turning over on the bed and lying on your stomach, taking in the sight of the rumpled pillows and wooden headboard.

"Lift your waist for me, please?" he politely demands, and you do what he asks, lifting your waist off the bed as he slips a pillow underneath.

It takes you a moment to understand what he's doing. In this position, he chooses not to let him see you, and at the same time, it makes you less self-conscious.

"Is this better?" he asks as he places a hot kiss on the skin behind your ear.

"Yes," you say, feeling comfortable already, but you don't think about how you can't see him and what he's going to do to you.

A low sigh escapes your lips as his rough hand glides down your back and massages the flesh in voluptuous motions. His firm chest brushes against your shoulder blades as he props an arm on the bed next to you.

You take a deep inhale as his hand reaches between your thighs, his fingers searching through your folds and sinking deep, pumping fresh essence out of you until it drips around them. As if that isn't enough, he teases your clitoris with gentle touches.

"Felix..." you desperately call his name.

"You're ready, mmh?" he asks, planting a soft kiss on the nape of your neck.

Soon, his hard length prods at your entrance and pushes its way inside, painstakingly slow, as if he wants you to feel every inch of that delicious cock stretching you out.

All this time, you thought sex was repulsive, uncomfortable and painful—something you kept avoiding because your past experiences validated those thoughts—until now. With Felix, you feel nothing but intensifying pleasure even after he is fully sheathed inside you.

"Oh, you feel too good," he whispers into your ear with a low growl.

His words make you feel all sorts of things, and you should say something about him too—how good he feels inside you, how he fills you perfectly. You try to speak like he’s asked you to, but all that comes out are gasps and sighs of pleasure. Instead, you try to communicate with your body, spreading your thighs wider for him and trying to match him thrust for thrust.

His tattooed hand propped against the mattress captures yours, and he interlaces both of your fingers together.

“Now, it's perfect," he whispers.

For a timeless moment, you're hovering on the brink until orgasm crashes over you. He knows, but he relentlessly drives into you. You try to meet his thrusts, but you can’t quite match his strength and intensity.

With your eyes closed, you dare to look over your shoulder, and he immediately captures your mouth, stroking his tongue deep into you. Before the last orgasm has finished, you feel another building. You're clenching hard, the tiny muscles fluttering around his cock.

With a hoarse groan, Felix surges into you one last time, hard and shallow, sending you both to your highs. He rubs his lips against your jaw and neck, then lowers your shaking body to the bed. He holds you, wrapping his tattooed arms around you and drawing you even closer, holding you like his.

With your eyes still shut, your fingers trail his forearm, feeling the defined muscle and the smooth skin—a combination that is utterly distracting. His scent, his warmth, and his solidness surround you, slowly lulling you into a dreamless sleep.

Now, it's perfect, you say in your head.

Felix breathes in deeply, letting the warm, comforting scent of your space envelop him as he burrows into the sheets, a happy sigh escaping his lips.

Slowly, he pushes himself up from the bed, and your room looks slightly different basked in the morning sunlight. Like this, he can see the colors of the books on the shelf, the hats and scarves hanging on the bedroom door, and the succulents you keep on your windowsill. Under a different light, your room looks a lot more alive.

It's also illuminating the memories of last night—your shared laughter, the sweet sounds of pleasure that echoed around him, the rustles of the sheets as your naked bodies tangled under the duvet. A rush of warmth fills him at the recollection, but as he looks around, reality settles in: he is in your room, in your apartment, and he shouldn’t overstay his welcome.

Collecting his clothes from the floor, he dresses methodically, and once in a while, he can't help but glance back at the bed where you shared such an intimate night.

Once he's decent, he steps out of the bedroom, finding you right away in the kitchen. Your hair is in a messy bun, glasses perched slightly askew on your nose, and you're dressed in a simple white t-shirt and pajama pants. You are focused on reading something on your phone while quietly eating from a bowl.

“Morning,” he greets, his voice deeper in the morning air, startling you slightly.

“Morning,” you reply, a soft smile lighting up your face.

As he continues buttoning his shirt, he slides onto a vacant stool at the small dining table.

“Orange juice?” you offer, “or do you prefer coffee?”

“Not a coffee person,” he honestly replies, and you immediately pour him a glass of orange juice, your movements easy and familiar.

You turn around to put the carton of juice back into the fridge and come back with a plate of breakfast for him, serving it in front of him.

“I don’t know what you like for breakfast, but this is what I usually cook for my roommate,” you say, sliding a plate of scrambled eggs and toast toward him.

“Wow! Thank you,” he says in utter gratitude.

Felix can’t recall the last time he enjoyed a nice breakfast with the person he had a one-night stand with; usually, he’d be gone before his partner even woke.

He glances toward the door of your roommate’s bedroom, wondering if she's inside.

“The birthday girl isn’t home yet?” he asks as he lifts his fork.

“She’s probably staying over at one of her friends,” you reply, your tone casual, suggesting you are used to this arrangement.

Felix finds it convenient this way. He enjoys the intimacy of just the two of you in the calm of the morning. The presence of another person would only ruin that.

“Is that what you usually have for breakfast?” he asks, peeking into your bowl, which contains slices of fruit, granola, and yogurt.

“Yes,” you answer with a small smile.

“Ah, that explains…” he absentmindedly says, not realizing the implications of his words until you catch his gaze.

“Explain what?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.

“Uh... that explains why you’re so smart,” he lies with a casual smile, hoping to brush off any suspicion.

The truth is, your diet explains why you smell and taste so good; the thought makes him bite back a smile, recalling the events of last night.

"Oh..." your reaction is a mix of surprise and gratitude, but he's still unsure if you understand the meaning behind his words. If you do, just know that it's a compliment.

After breakfast, Felix uses your bathroom for a quick wash-up and retrieves his jacket from the sofa. He adjusts his shirt before putting it on, realizing the time has come to leave, even though he wants to stay longer.

With heavy steps, he approaches you as you stand by the door, sensing the moment is drawing to a close.

Your eyes are on him, but your hands are clasped behind your back, your eyes shimmering with a different kind of light than when he first met you. They seem more alive now, filled with warmth.

“I want to thank you for last night,” you say, a smile creeping onto your face as the memory flashes through your head as it does for him.

“No need to thank me,” he replies. He refuses to accept your thanks when you're not the only one gaining something from last night.

“We had fun last night,” he remarks, not fully realizing he is speaking for both of you.

“I mean, I don’t know about you, but I had fun last night,” he corrects himself with an awkward laugh, pressing a hand to the pulse point on his neck out of nervousness.

“I had— I had fun last night,” you shyly remark, looking away for a second to compose yourself before looking back at him, a shy smile still lingering.

“That's good to know,” he replies, catching your shyness as it creeps into his demeanor.

A moment passes in silence as you look at each other. He has so many things to say, but no words are spoken. He can see that you're struggling to fathom your thoughts into words too.

“Felix,” you call in a different tone from the way you called him last night, yet it makes his heart flutter the same.

“Yes?” he answers, his heart beating in anticipation.

You open your mouth, but no words come out, then close it again, thinking hard about whether to say it or not.

“You can talk to me,” he assures you, his hand flying to your elbow and gently holding it.

Taking a deep breath, you finally close the distance between you, pressing your lips against his in a quick, unexpected kiss.

The surprise electrifies him, but the briefness leaves him wanting more. He quickly decides it's best to ask for forgiveness later rather than permission. He cups your jaw and leans in for a proper kiss; eventually, his lips meet yours in a kiss that means so much more than that: it's a tender connection that feels just right.

As much as he likes it, he knows he has to let go eventually. He slowly pulls away, only to see a smile blooming on your face, and his lips reflexively follow suit, smiling back at you.

“I hope that’s okay,” he murmurs, but he knows he's not sorry at all for what he did.

You nod, your smile shy yet genuine. "That’s—”

Suddenly, the door swings open, and Rex stumbles in, making a ruckus with her arrival as the keys jangle in her hand and her shoes drop onto the floor, oblivious to the intimate moment unfolding between you two.

“Oh?” she gasps, stopping in her tracks when she finally notices the two of you. Her eyes glance between you and Felix.

“Oh!!!” she exclaims again when she recognizes Felix as the guy you kissed for a dare last night.

Realizing she's interrupted something private, she hurriedly clutches her purse close to her chest and dashes into her bedroom, shouting, “I’m not here!”

The moment is shattered nonetheless, and Felix knows he can't stay here for as long as he wants, not when your roommate is now present.

“I'd better go,” he says, even though he hasn’t planned anything beyond that.

“Okay,” you say in a way that makes you sound defeated.

“Okay,” Felix repeats, hoping you would say something to extend the moment just a bit longer.

But good things often come to an end. Felix shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a good look at you one last time, imprinting it in the back of his mind.

“It was nice to meet you,” he earnestly says with one hand on the doorknob.

“Me too,” you reply, your smile soft and genuine, lingering in his thoughts even as he steps out of your life.

At least, for now.

Here you are again, surrounded by the pulsing energy of the club with Rex and her friends. You’re still the same shy, nerdy girl, yet somehow, you handle the scene better now. It's a familiar chaos, except that tonight, it's harder to ignore Felix’s absence.

Noticing that you're not having fun like everyone else, Rex leans in closer to talk against the loud music playing in the club.

“Are you disappointed that he’s not here?” she asks, her alcohol-tinted breath brushing your ear.

“Why should I be disappointed?” You scoff, trying to mask the truth. But deep down, you are counting every second since you walked in without seeing him.

“You think I didn't know that you’ve been secretly watching the door?" Rex chuckles, almost spitting her drink. "Or the way you get a little excited whenever you spot a blonde guy?"

Guilty as charged. You are caught, but admitting it feels like opening a wound. You tried not to dwell on it, convincing yourself it was just a one-night stand and these feelings... they'll eventually fade, right?

“Don’t worry,” Rex says as she gently squeezes your knee. “He’s probably still on the way.”

“He didn’t even ask for my number, Rex,” you confess, finally voicing the disappointment that has been gnawing at you ever since that day.

“Then fuck him!” she exclaims, fierce as always. “There are plenty of cute guys, and I'm sure we can find one tonight.”

"No, thank you," you flatly reject the offer.

"Why not?" Rex asks, her eyes studying you.

You scoff again, but inside, the truth lingers: you're still hung up on him.

“Because you’ve already drunk too much," you choose to lie instead, taking her drink from her hand.

Suddenly, someone enters the booth, and you recognize him instantly, even with his bleached hair slicked back. Your heart leaps at the sight of Felix. He looks just as perfect as you remember, but doubt creeps in. Does he remember that night as vividly as you do?

He stands across the table, drink in hand, smiling at you, but you manage a polite smile back, not wanting to set yourself up for another disappointment.

“How about a round of ‘Never Have I Ever’?” he suggests out of the blue, his deep voice drawing everyone’s attention.

"Yes, let's do that!" Rex enthusiastically responds while raising her drink higher in front of her.

Felix trails the rim of his glass with his tattooed finger as he thinks of something, and a while later, his eyes fiercely stare at you with a sly smile dancing on his face.

“Never have I ever... made out with a guy in a dark alley, bumped my head on a crate, gotten three stitches, and still proceeded to give him a night he can’t forget?”

A rush of warmth washes over you, either from his eyes that don’t stray away from yours even for a second or the fact that he still remembers everything. You smile nonetheless, feeling the flutter in your chest returning.

Everyone goes silent, glancing around, unsure who might have done that, except for Rex, who squeals next to you like a giddy child.

“I have,” you confidently say, out loud with a proud smile.

You take the drink from Rex’s hand and drink it in one go, wincing at the bitter aftertaste but recovering quickly.

You daringly stare back into his eyes as you take the next turn. “Never have I ever regretted not asking someone for their number?”

“I have,” he replies without missing a beat and downs his shot in one gulp.

Felix places the empty glass on the table, walks over to you, and holds his hand out to you. “Now, I dare you to come with me.”

It isn't a dare when it's exactly what you want; it's a wish come true. You take his inked hand, feeling the warmth radiate from his skin, and let him lead you away from the table and into the night.

In the dark alley where it all started, Felix pulls you close until your bodies collide, wrapping his arms around you. Impatiently, he kisses you hard and deep, full of longing.

The kiss is intoxicating, even better than you remember, and as he steers you away from the crates lining the alley to avoid any mishaps, you softly laugh.

Felix leans his back against the brick wall and holds you close, his face lingering only inches away from yours, breath mingling in the cool night air.

“Let’s avoid visiting the hospital tonight,” he playfully says.

In that dark alley, with the world falling away around you, you realize you don’t want this to ever end. You lean in, capturing his lips once more, and you melt into the kiss, bracing yourself for what you're about to ask and the answer you'll get.

“So, what now?” you ask, your fingers caressing his cheek, tracing the contours of his face.

“We can start by finishing the poem,” he says, a playful glint filling his eyes, reminding you of the lines you have barely gotten through that night.

You grin as the weight of the time you spent worrying about not seeing him again lifts off your shoulders. “Okay, but I think I need a new beginning for this one.”

This time, you know what you want, and what you want is more nights like this, more moments, and more of whatever this is between you and him, and that’s the only dare you're doing tonight: to find out what that is.

“(i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.”

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#ーnsfw recs 🥂 !#OKAY SO FIRST OF ALL THE READER IS SO RELATABLE?? THE WEARING GLASSES (comma) BOOKWORM (comma) AND BEING DRAGGED TO THE CLUB??#BECAUSE IT’S HER FRIEND’S BIRTHDAY?? IT HAPPENED TO ME SHE IS ME YES (except kissing a stranger and the whole thrilling excitement thing)#FELIX BRO FELIX JSKSKSKSKSKS have you seen him tattoos??? WHY IS HE SO HOT TO IMAGINE LIKE THIS AAAAAA #y/n i really know the feeling that you can see him walking out from a photoshoot because he is indeed like always #THE KISS BRO THE KISS AND THE TIME HE TOOK HER HOME JUST TO BE SAFE?!!!!#bare minimum but we love a concerned citizen and gentleman 😭🩷#GOD I LOVE FELIX IN THIS HE IS SUCH A SWEETIE AND SO SOFT LIKE DAMN #HE WAS SO PATIENT BECAUSE IT’S THE READERS FIRST TIME AND ALL!!!#i’m having fun with the uppercase letters but oh well this is me expressing how much i love this fic #the way he guides the reader having his voice soft and deep but feeling like a demand ?? my heart fuck he can take it #i am truly a sucker for kisses as they went through #i cannot help but simp over felix in this one you should know how i couldn’t contain my smile and want to punch the wall 💔#where can i get a duplicate of felix???#HE IS GENTLE WITH THE READER AAAAAAAAA!!! true to that one line saying if it’s another guy... it wouldn’t be the same reaction as him—#if the reader refuses but FELIX??? FUCKING FELIX??? (crying screaming throwing up toe curling hair ripping punching the wall fuck!!!)#he has my heart yes!! i love rex in this HAHAHAHAHAHHA it was a lovely night indeed 🥺🩷#ngl i was expecting it was going to be one time but felix showed up 😭😭😭#HAPPY ENDING YAY!!! 😭🤧🩷#now again with the question: where can i find a duplicate of felix? 🥹 or just him damn i want him!! 🤧#this is another great read from you lovely thank you so much for writing this piece aaaaaaaaaa!!! i love it 😭🩷

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thewispsings · 5 months ago

Text

personal assistant | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x assistant!reader

summary: the one where lando norris is dating his assistant.

liked by user1, user2, and 124,730 others!

f1updates: y/n and lando have arrived for the media day at the british gp. y/n arrived about an hour earlier then lando. both arriving in style!

view comments below!

user3: oh she looks so good

user4: IKRRRR THAT DRESS?? HOLY

user5: sometimes i forget y/n went to fashion school until she shows up in these AMAZING outfits and im like YUP! she knows what she's doing

user6: i see y/n dressed lando today...

user7: ofc she did! when lando shows up in something other then team gear then we have y/n to thank

user8: she did such a good job!! he looks so good🤭

user9: why does y/n always arrive earlier 😕 i want to see them walk in together

user10: she's said the thought of arriving late makes her extremely anxious so she rather just arrive earlier then everyone else 😭

user11: i get her. she is me. i am her. we are one.

user12: y/n dating someone who loves to sleep in while she's the complete opposite is so?? 😭

user13: yns so pretty

user14: i wish i was y/n. or lando. idk i just want to be famous

user15: does anyone know where he shoes are from??

user15: guys pls??

user15: A LOT OF YOU ARW LIKING THIS BUT NOT RESPONDING

user15: JUST TELL ME WHERE THE FUCKING SHOES ARE FROM

user15: I HATE YOU ALL

liked by user16, user17, and 62,739 others!

ynandlandoupdates: y/n and lando taking photos with fans after practice today!

view comments below!

user16: is she wearing landos jacket🥹

user17: yea!! there's a video going around of him giving it to her. it was truly adorable

user18: i was there! y/n was so nice and was handing out umbrellas, she was super shocked when people asked her for a photo 😭

user19: pls tell me someone gave her a bracelet or something???

user18: the guy next to me handed her a bracelet with landos name 😭she said she'll never take it off and got super flustered

user20: you guys don't understand how much i love y/n, like handing out umbrellas??? she's for the people!!

user21: people who hate on y/n must be sore losers because how are you going to hate on that beautiful AND KIND woman??

user22: lando with the backwards hat??

user23: what is it with f1 drivers and backwards hats?? max, lando, charles, carlos they always look SO GOOD

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen, and 635,915 others!

landonorris: pre-race date!🧡

view comments belown

user24: race week dates are back!! 🤭🤭

user25: ahhhh so cute

danielricciardo: cute ig.

landonorris: jealousy is a disease, get better soon😝

maxverstappen1: remind y/n that we agreed on playing mario cart at 11 pm tonight.

maxverstappen: please.

user26: lando and max this lando and y/n that. WHAT ABOUT Y/N AND MAX?? ARE YOU SEEING THIS ☺️☺️ so cute

landonorris: she has been reminded!

maxverstappen1: thank you

user27: do you think max is sitting by his tv waiting for y/n to join?

user28: oh he totally is

user29: she looks so good??

user30: she literally belongs on vogue, holy

oscarpiastri: bring me back that fancy ice cream

landonorris: no!

yoursername: lando 😡 wait by your room oscar we'll be there in a bit!

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen, oscarpiastri, and 392,947 others!

yourusername: post race date!

view comments below!

user31: lando was so disappointed until y/n came up to him, hope all you y/n haters who think she's not good for him see this and throw up

user32: y/n posting literally NOTHING except date night pictures is truly so cute and funny at the same time

user33: that dress 😍

landonorris: beautiful girl 🥰🥰

maxverstappen1: simp 🫵

maxverstappen1: by the wayyy can y/n play mario cart tonight?

landonorris: yes she can🙄

maxverstappen1: great! ill be waiting

user34: max going from hating to wanting to play with y/n is tooo funny

user35: yns whole aesthetic is so cute

user36: oh to be y/n going on a date night with lando norris after the british gp

user37: y/n and lando running away after the race to go on a date is the cutest thing

user38: SHES GETTING THAT DICK EVERYDAY SHES GETTING THE DICK EVERYDAY SHES GETTING THAT DICK EVERYDAY 😣😣

user39: THAT SHOULD BE MEEE

user40: who do you guys think take these photos?@/maxverstappen1@/oscarpiastri @/ danielricciardo???? who is it 🤨

danielricciardo: i refuse to third wheel.

maxverstappen1: they never like my photos 😕

oscarpiastri: …it's me 🥲

. . .

notes: I'm so sorry if this sucked?? there's like no plot but i wanted to get a lando fic out so here's this!

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smau #lando norris social media au #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 social media au #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smau

2K notes · View notes

theostrophywife · 11 months ago

Text

snow on the beach.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

request: can you write some cuddles with theo? maybe he’s comforting reader, or maybe reader is comforting him, but this boy need some love pretty please.

song inspiration: snow on the beach by taylor swift.

author's note: as soon as i saw the gif by the lovely @dramaticals, i knew that i had to write a piece with it as the cover. get in, babes. we're simping for theodore nott.

The snow fell softly over Hogwarts, covering the castle with ice and frost. From the beach, Theo watched as the flurries glittered against stone and spire and frowned as the cold seeped into his bones. Underneath him, the Black Lake was frozen solid yet crystal clear. It might’ve been unwise to venture out so far from the shore, but Theo welcomed the clarity of the cold.

The cigarette cradled between his slender fingers provided some much needed warmth, the nicotine filling his lungs and dulling his senses as he released a cloud of smoke into the air. Spread-eagled on the ice, Theo sprawled out like a snow angel, blinking away the snowflakes as it gathered on his lashes.

Beyond the treeline, Theo glimpsed his friends chasing each other on their brooms. A loud cackle echoed from the Forbidden Forest as Mattheo hurled a snowball at Draco. Enzo and Regulus cursed as they narrowly dodged the attack, racing away from Mattheo as he laughed maniacally, clearly relishing his reign of terror. On any other day, he would’ve been flying right along his mates, but today was different.

The boys could sense it as well. All morning, Theo had been distant and distracted. He barely participated in the conversations happening around him during lunch. When he turned down Mattheo’s invitation to play quidditch in the snow, his mates took the hint that Theo really just wanted to be alone.

So here he was, smoking in the freezing cold and hoping that the frigid air would provide a moment of reprieve from the complicated thoughts and emotions swirling within him. For his efforts, Theo was rewarded with a sore arse and a growing migraine pulsing behind his eyes. In other words, he was truly shit out of luck.

There was no escaping today.

A soft shuffling beckoned his attention, but it wasn’t necessary for Theo to turn around to know who the steps belonged to. He could identify his best friend by sound alone. You always walked with purpose. Judging by the decisive click of your boots against the ice, Theo could tell that you were on a mission. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as you came into view, your cheeks and nose flushed from the cold.

With a hand on your hip, you cocked your head at Theo and posed a question in your usual no-nonsense tone. “Would you like some company or would you prefer to brood alone?”

Theo looked up from his cigarette, biting back a smile. You were always straight to the point. Never one to mince words. Theo liked that about you.

“I don’t mind the company if it’s you, principessa.”

A soft smile graced his face as you transformed your robe into a blanket, laying it on the ice and beckoning him to move. Theo happily obliged and attempted not to chuckle as you fussed over him, clearly biting back on lecturing him on the dangers of catching hypothermia in this weather. You placed your bag underneath his head before laying beside him in the cocoon of fabric.

Without a word, you tapped your shoulder. His heart warmed at the familiar gesture as he leaned against you. A sigh of satisfaction slipped past his lips as you ran your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp and easing all the tension from his body.

“What are you doing out here?” Theo asked as you toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “You hate the cold.”

“I do, but I don’t hate you.”

Theo nuzzled against your neck, humming softly as the warmth of your skin soothed his senses. “I missed you at breakfast. Thought you were sleeping in, so I didn’t bother to wake you up.” His mouth quirked in amusement. “We both know what happens when your sleep is interrupted.”

“I’m not that bad,” you said sheepishly.

“The last time I tried to wake you up before noon on a weekend, you threw a slipper at my head.”

“I thought you were an intruder.”

“Mhm,” Theo murmured against your shoulder. “That explains why you yelled, ‘Leave me alone, Theodore!’ after physically assaulting me.”

By the way you shifted beside him, Theo knew you were rolling your eyes fondly. “For your information, I woke up bright and early this morning to head to Hogsmeade.”

“Has hell frozen over?” Theo asked dramatically, furrowing his brows as he looked up at you. “The Y/N I know wouldn’t be caught dead in all this snow. Especially not without stealing at least three of my hoodies before stepping foot out of the castle.”

You chuckled, brushing a strand of wavy hair away from his eyes. “Contrary to what you may believe, I’m not completely helpless without you. I bundled up and braved the snow to pick up a package from the post.”

“I wish you would’ve told me, dolcezza. I would’ve gone to the village with you.”

“That’s sweet of you, Teddy. But it was a quick trip and I managed fine on my own.”

Theo grumbled with displeasure, but rested his head on your shoulder once more. The two of you sat in comfortable silence, just soaking up each other’s company. You were clearly aware that something was on his mind, but you didn’t push. You knew that Theo would talk if and when he was ready. It was one of the many things he appreciated about you. Whenever you were together, there was never any need to fill the silence. Even without words, you could read him like a book.

After a while, Theo put out his cigarette and turned over to face you. You smiled as he scooted closer and breathed in your strawberry shampoo. He brushed the snowflakes off of your cheek, but more fell to take their place.

“How did you know I’d be out here?”

“For reasons I will never understand, you love the cold. You said it helps you think clearly,” you replied, tracing the moles and freckles that littered his skin like constellations. “I figured you had a lot on your mind. I imagine the anniversary is a rough day for you.”

Theo blinked in surprise. Though you told each other nearly everything, Theo had never disclosed the anniversary of his mother’s death. He rarely spoke about her to anyone. Even after ten years, the loss still made his heart feel hollow.

“You know what today is?” He asked in a small, quiet voice.

You nodded in confirmation. “Your nonna mentioned it in her last letter. I know you usually like to be alone to remember her, but I wanted to at least check up on you.”

There was an ache in his chest as he met your concerned gaze. You placed your hand above his heart and rubbed over the spot like you knew how heavy of a load it was to carry. Theo’s fingers gently closed around yours.

“I’m glad you did.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked softly. “All these years? I would’ve liked to be there for you.”

There was a hint of pain in the edges of your voice as though robbing you of the ability to comfort him physically hurt. Knowing you, it probably did. You cared so deeply and loved so fully. It was just the type of person that you were. It was what drew him to you in the first place.

“I didn’t think I could,” he admitted truthfully. “After my mum died, my father never spoke about her again. He just acted like the day of her death never happened. For him, it was just another normal day and not the day that I lost half of myself. My father said it was weak to show emotion, so I never did. I had no choice but to be strong, so I am.”

Theo closed his eyes and attempted to tamper down his emotions. When he opened them again, he was met with your heartbroken expression. A pang of guilt struck his heart like an arrow. The last thing he wanted to do was upset you. Seeing you in pain was worse than enduring the Cruciatus curse and Merlin knew he had plenty of experience in that regard. Thanks to his cruel, ruthless father. Theo started to apologize, but startled when you cradled his face in your hands, your gaze full of bravery and determination.

“Emotions don’t make you weak, Teddy. You’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to grieve and rage and cry. You don’t have to be so strong all the time.”

The words struck him to his very core. It had never occurred to him to let his armor fall. He wasn't aware that was even an option. All his life, Theo thought that repressing every ounce of emotion was the only way to cope with his mother’s death. He wasn’t granted permission to speak of her, much less grieve over her. Self-preservation had been drilled into him even before he was sorted into Slytherin. It was how he survived.

“I don’t?” He asked in a broken whisper.

“No, you don’t.” You replied, pressing your forehead against his. “I’m here for you and I won’t judge you for being vulnerable.”

Theo swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I don’t want to weigh you down with my burdens.”

“You won’t,” you promised. “Whatever heaviness you’re carrying, I’ll carry it with you. You never have to do anything alone, Teddy.”

The ice in his chest cracked and the armor he so carefully crafted around his heart splintered off into a million tiny pieces. It should’ve terrified him, but instead, all Theo felt was relief. You were giving him a safe space to feel. A luxury that had been ripped away from him the day his mother died.

“I miss her so much.”

With those five words, Theo felt the dam break. Years and years of sadness and anger and grief washed over him like a tidal wave, flooding his heart with the intensity of it all. The rush of the current would have wiped him out entirely if it hadn’t been for your arms wrapping around him, holding him to the present like an anchor. Theo clung onto you for dear life and sobbed.

He sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. He cried until the front of your sweater was soaked with his tears. He cried until his throat was raw from screaming. He cried until his eyes were bloodshot and red and as heavy as lead. Through it all, you hugged him tightly, holding him against you firmly as you rubbed his back and whispered soothing words in his ear.

“It’s okay, Teddy. Let it out. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Theo gripped the back of your sweater, bunching up the fabric between his fingers as he unleashed ten years worth of grief out into the open. You didn’t balk at any of it. The two of you had weathered the good, the bad, and the ugly together and none of it had scared you off. Theo believed you when you said that you weren’t going anywhere. To you, it was a sacred promise. One that you had kept faithfully since the day you met him.

“I’m here for you,” you declared in reassurance, rocking him back and forth. “I always will be.”

He didn’t know what he did to deserve someone like you. During times like these, Theo was convinced that you were his guardian angel. A gift from above to offset all the shit and misery that life brought. It was cathartic to cry in the arms of the girl he loved because he knew that you would hold him as he fell apart and put him back together in a way that only you could.

After what seemed like ages, Theo finally looked up. With a sniffle, he watched with an awestruck expression as you wiped the tears from his cheeks and kissed his forehead.

“I got something for you,” you whispered softly. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, but I think it might help. It’s a way to commemorate the loss of your mother, but to also honor the happy memories that live on in your heart.”

You fished around in your bag and pulled out a small paper lantern. As you held it in your hands, it glowed as though enchanted.

“Back home, we light these lanterns and release them to honor the loved ones we’ve lost. I asked my mum to mail me one and it just arrived in the post this morning. Special delivery.”

Just when Theo thought he was all out of tears, a fresh wave crashed over him. He was the reason why you’d trudged out in the snow and frost so early in the morning. To pick up the most thoughtful gift that anyone has ever given him. Theo couldn’t help but bawl.

Your eyes widened. “Oh no. I didn’t mean to upset you. We don’t have to do it if you want to. I can send it back—“

Theo shook his head. “No, no, no. It’s perfect. It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me. Thank you. For writing to my crazy old nonna and letting me get snot all over your favorite sweater and turning a shit day less shitty. Thank you so much, Y/N.”

You smiled, brushing his waves back. “You don’t have to thank me, Theo. I’d do anything for you. That’s what you do for the people you love.”

His breath caught in his throat. Theo looked up at you with hopeful eyes. “You love me?”

“With every fiber of my being.”

Before he knew it, Theo was crying again, but this time it was happy tears. He leaned in, cradling your face in his hands just like you always did to him, and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was so soft and so gentle, like he was afraid that you might disappear.

“I love you, Y/N,” he declared with certainty. Theo loved you like the moon loved the sun. He loved you like the shadows loved the stars. You were the light that he’s been waiting for in the darkness. “I think my mum would’ve loved you too.”

You smiled, intertwining your fingers together and kissing his knuckles. “I wish I had the chance to meet her.”

“You still can,” Theo said with a smile. “Will you show me how to light the lantern, cara mia?”

After you showed him how to enchant the lantern, Theo was able to light it by himself. The lantern glowed in his hands as he looked over at you. “What’s next?”

“Usually, we say a few words to honor the dead. It can be as short or as long as you’d like.” Theo swallowed thickly. He seemed to be grappling with his thoughts, searching for the right words. You grabbed hold of his hand and squeezed. “There’s no right or wrong way to do it. As long as it comes from the heart. Don’t be scared, Teddy. I’m right here.”

Theo nodded, smiling softly as he squeezed back. He composed himself for a moment and stared at the lantern.

“Ciao, mamma. It’s Teddy. Today was really hard. It’s been ten years since I lost you, but I still feel you everywhere. I miss you a lot. I’m sorry that I never talk about you. Even now, it still hurts. But I’m learning that sometimes you just have to let yourself feel the pain. That it’s okay to let other people in and let them carry the burden with you. I’m lucky, mamma. I have nonna and my cousins and my mates. I have Y/N. She takes care of me. She always asks me about my day. She remembers every little thing I tell her, like the fact that I hate crusts on my sandwiches and pineapple on pizza.”

You chuckled as his nose scrunched up in disgust. The sincerity of it all made your heart feel like it was overflowing with love for this beautiful boy. “She’s always bossing me around and fussing over me, but I secretly love that she cares so much. She’s got such a big heart, mamma. I’m lucky to even occupy a small portion of it. I guess what I’m trying to say is, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve got Y/N to watch over me. I love you and I miss you. I promise I’ll talk about you more. Ci vediamo, mamma.”

Your eyes welled with tears as Theo released the lantern. He turned to you, wiping a tear away. “Hey, none of that,” he teased. “I’ve cried enough for the both of us tonight, love.”

“I’m sorry. That was just so beautiful. I’m so proud of you, Teddy. I know it wasn’t easy, but you were so brave.”

He leaned down to kiss your temple. “Couldn’t have done it without you, cara mia.”

Theo laced his fingers through yours and tugged lightly. “Now come on, dolcezza. Let’s get inside where it’s warm. I know you’re dying to lecture me about being out in the cold for this long.”

You chuckled, not even the least bit surprised at how well Theo knew you.

Later that night, after the two of you dried off, changed into pajamas, and snuggled underneath your warm blankets, you listened as Theo told stories of his mum. You laughed when he recounted the time his mum hexed Lucius for stealing her shampoo in third year. You cried when he recalled the way she’d always let him curl up in her bed after a nightmare, singing him to sleep and soothing her Teddy.

In one night, the memories that he kept locked away in his heart for ten years came spilling out of Theo. You soaked up every detail like a sponge, hanging onto his every word. The sun was rising by the time he exhausted himself, but he felt so much lighter than he ever had. With your arms wrapped tightly around him, Theo knew that he was loved beyond measure. He could feel the affection and devotion radiating between you, like an invisible string that tied the two of you together.

As you spooned him, Theo grinned and kissed your fingertips. “Thank you for letting me talk about my mum. I’ve never told anyone any of that before.”

“What makes me so special?”

Theo turned over and smiled. “You make me feel safe,” he whispered in the darkness. You teared up at his words, knowing how hard it was for Theo to let his guard down. The fact that he allowed himself to be vulnerable around you was a privilege that you’d never take for granted. “You take all my fucked up, broken pieces and put me back together again. With you, I feel whole.”

“It doesn’t matter how many times you fall apart, Teddy. I will always be here to pick up the pieces.”

“Me too,” Theo murmured sleepily. He leaned over and kissed you, soft and sweet and pure. Your heart ached for him. You were convinced that your soul would’ve searched through infinity and back just to find him. “That’s what you do for the people you love.”

TAGLIST

@annaisabookworm @marina468 @yaraasthings @the0doreslover @bubybubsters @moony-artemis @natasha887 @lucyysthings @criesinlies @bunnymallowo @niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl @wordsarelife @clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar@moonflowersandsparkles @fudge13

#i am so sorry for doing this to all of you but if i had to cry about him then you do too #theo nott #theodore nott #theo nott x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott imagine #theo nott smut #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott smut #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott fluff

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sweetkpopmusings · 4 months ago

Text

stray kids soulmate aus | k. seungmin <3

a/n: these days i am QUITE the seungmin simp & it shows :,-) i had a lot of fun writing a very classic kpop fic meet-cute with this one ! if you need me, i'll be watching seungmin compilations <333 pics not mine~

content: fluff, soulmate au | wc: 1.9k | warnings: none really! | pairing: soulmate!seungmin x gn!reader | requests: open

on your 18th birthday, you receive a stack of sticky notes on which you can write to your soulmate. there is one note for every day leading up to when you meet.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

you settled into your desk chair, eager to see what anecdote seungmin has chosen for you today. it was always a thrill to get a peek into his daily life, and it was especially entertaining when he removed context from the situation to make you laugh. over the years, he developed a knack for telling stories just the way you liked them.

we went shopping today, in that area that always smells like ice cream cone batter. i bought a cool phone case. you better compliment me on it when we meet. i know it’s only ten days away, but i encourage you to put a reminder on your calendar, so you don’t forget to appreciate my taste in accessories.

-yours, seungmin

you scoffed. he was always extra sassy when he was excited about something. you tapped your pen against your desk, devising the perfect reply to seungmin’s daily update.

i promise i’ll tell you the phone case is cool, if and only if it actually is. we must be on the same wavelength because i went shopping today too (it didn’t smell like ice cream cone batter where i was though). i picked out new clothes for the day we meet, so you better compliment me on it as soon as you see me. should we make a joint calendar event since you’re quite forgetful?

-yours, y/n

not even 30 seconds passed when you saw seungmin’s handwriting appear near the bottom of the sticky note. you smiled, feeling his playful energy infect you.

like a wise person said, i’ll tell you the outfit is cool, if and only if it actually is. i’d love to make a joint calendar event, but we can’t share contact information yet, remember? i’ll have to trust you won’t forget the phone case…i guess that’s more important than remembering a basic rule about soulmates, so i’ll have faith in you :-)

-yours, seungmin

with another roll of your eyes, you wrote your last message to seungmin for the night.

you test my patience, kim seungmin. get some rest now. i know you’re working hard on your comeback, so i’ll be rooting for you!

-yours, y/n

you smiled at the tiny heart seungmin drew in the bottom corner of the page before you peeled the sticky note off the stack. electricity ran through you every time you noticed how much it shrank. soon, very soon, you would be teased by seungmin in person. you hoped that you’d deliver the perfect eye roll in response to his snarky comments, as a way to show him you truly loved him.

staring at the note, seungmin laughed at his desk, right when felix walked by.

“what’d y/n say?”

“none of your business.”

despite the nature of the retort, seungmin’s tone was lighthearted. felix laughed and left seungmin alone to place the completed sticky note in his not-so-secret box, where he kept every word you’ve ever exchanged safe from the rest of the world.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

hi soulmate~ let’s see if our tastes match. tell me your ideal meet-cute.

-yours, seungmin

you felt a blush on your skin at seungmin’s cute tone. you imagined he was feeling particularly sweet as your meeting was only three days away. you took your time mentally ranking the best meet-cutes you’d witnessed in books, movies, tv, and real life.

hi seungmin~ there are a lot of good ones, but i have to stick with the classic: locking eyes across a crowded room. what’s yours?

-yours, y/n

you stared at the note, eager to see whether seungmin had a romantic side after all. you laughed in disbelief when you read his answer.

wow, no “hi soulmate~”? rude :-( my favorite trope is spilling coffee on someone. i’d enjoy that as long as i’m not the one getting spilled on. let’s hope your outfit isn’t too cool!

-yours, seungmin

you imagined seungmin was laughing at his own joke, which balanced out his vague threat to spill coffee on you.

you’re such a menace :-( i’m about to revoke “soulmate” from your nicknames, as a matter of principle.

-yours, y/n

seungmin, despite himself, blushed at the thought of you having different nicknames picked out for him. his heart fluttered, feeling extra sweet because of you.

i’m YOUR menace. see you soon! i’ll be the handsome man holding two coffees <3

-yours, seungmin

you sighed, knowing there was a real chance he’d carry two coffees around that whole day. if there was one thing about seungmin, he’d commit to the bit.

i’ll run away from you, and i hope you spill one of the coffees on yourself while you chase me. at least we’ll be matching <3

-yours, y/n

from miles away, you and seungmin laughed at the same time. similarly, you both played out different meet-cute scenarios for the rest of the night. seungmin would never admit this to you, but he’d love to see the excited look on your face if your chosen meet-cute was what fate had in store.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

though you returned home later than usual, you were still surprised to see the sticky note halfway filled up by the time you sat at your desk.

my schedules start before sunrise tomorrow, so i have to go to bed early, like a grandpa. chan says this is a good time to go to bed…what else would we expect though? anyways, i’m sorry i won’t get to write back tonight. tell me about your day! i’ll read it as soon as i wake up. i promise. :-)

sleep well, and i’ll see you tomorrow~

-yours, seungmin

your heart sank a little at the fact you wouldn’t be able to interact directly with seungmin the night before the long-awaited day. however, the butterflies in your stomach reminded you that there was plenty to be excited about.

hi soulmate~ i’m jealous you’re sleeping so early. i was out late because i had to get everything ready before attending the live show recording tomorrow (i still can’t believe i won that ticket lottery!). i’m worried i won’t be able to sleep well from the excitement.

don’t forget about my outfit! just look for the best-dressed person and you’ll find me :-)

i’ll be sending you the strength to get through your schedules! i can’t wait to see you tomorrow~

-yours, y/n

you smiled to yourself, feeling in your heart that seungmin would start his day off happy, as you finally gave him the greeting he’d been waiting for.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

from the second he read your note, seungmin couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. everyone noticed the way he beamed, so it didn’t take long for them to put together that he’d be meeting you today. his members were painfully obvious about trying to catch a glimpse of you wherever they went. seungmin was in such a good mood that he didn’t even tease them that much.

realizing that the live show recording was almost definitely where you’d meet, seungmin noticed that his palms were sweatier than normal. he shook them out, taking deep breaths to calm his heart rate. this may not have been the first stage for their new song, but it was the first stage you’d be at, so the stakes were high.

despite the nerves from the night before, you were happily enjoying yourself at the show. of course, every performance was incredible, and the crowd was energetic. by the time there was only one act left, you felt your body start to grow tired. an adrenaline rush hit you full force, however, when you saw the name “stray kids” light up the stage.

jaw dropped, you were silent while the rest of the crowd screamed. your eyes raced to find seungmin. he was on the opposite end of the stage, giving you at least a chance at composing yourself before he saw your face. the music started, and you joined the crowd’s cheers. seungmin’s stage presence and vocals in person were breathtaking, and you felt a swell of pride knowing that your soulmate was so talented.

as though he could sense you were thinking of him, seungmin turned his head to the area where you stood. the second you locked eyes, seungmin grinned like an excited puppy. he waved to you, feeling giddy enough to make a heart with his hands. you matched his energy, smiling widely and bouncing from the magic of it all. there he was, just across the room, saying “hi” to you and only you.

per the instructions seungmin mouthed from the stage, you waited in your seat for a bit until a staff member brought you backstage. despite the recording being done, the halls were crowded with bustling employees and idols alike. all of the noise was drowned out by someone calling your name.

“hey y/n! i like your outfit!”

you turned around, seeing seungmin waving again. he beamed, and you rushed over to him.

“you remembered!”

seungmin laughed at your excitement, “i did forget my coffee though. it looks like your meet-cute won in the end.”

his eyes twinkled as he looked at you. rather than feeling nervous, you two chattered endlessly. you giggled at the way seungmin blushed when you complimented his performance. in turn, seungmin giggled at the way you blushed when he called you pretty. being able to have a conversation that exceeded the character limit of a sticky note left both of you with the zoomies, much to the entertainment of seungmin’s eavesdropping members.

“seungmin!” hyunjin yelled from a suspiciously nearby spot, “we have to leave soon!” hyunjin waved at you, “hi y/n!”

you waved back, and seungmin told you to ignore hyunjin, which made you laugh. as you exchanged contact information, you kept your promise and examined seungmin’s phone case.

“i like your phone case, seungmin! it matches your style perfectly,” you pointed at the object in his hand.

“thank you!” seungmin grinned for the umpteenth time that day, proudly holding the phone out for you to see, “this is the best part, if you ask me.”

you were surprised to see a sticky note in the back of his phone case. you leaned closer to examine it, and you felt a wave of fondness wash over you. in his hand, seungmin held one of your earliest sticky notes. on it, you had drawn a picture of what you thought seungmin looked like, purely based on how he wrote. you were way off, which you learned once you saw a picture of him online. it did accurately capture seungmin’s personality, though, so seungmin was quite proud of your artistry.

“it’s a one-of-a-kind drawing, so i wanted to show it off.”

seungmin’s tone was teasing, but you could feel the compliment, “you’re so sweet, seungmin! maybe i should have a matching one?”

he nodded, “i better see the portrait i drew of you in your phone case next time i see you.”

you laughed, “understood! i feel chan staring at us, so you should get going. call me when you get home?”

“of course!” seungmin smiled, “promise me one more thing?”

“hmm,” you feigned deep thought, “it depends on what it is.”

“next time you come to watch us perform, sit by my side of the stage.”

“only if i can see lee know too.”

seungmin glared at you momentarily, breaking into a laugh because he was so endeared by the pout you gave in response. after you said your goodbyes, you watched seungmin bound down the hall to meet his members. before he went around the corner, he turned to wave to you again, mouthing goodbye, soulmate!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

476 notes · View notes

nemisuki · 1 month ago

Text

Trick or Treat

Third Year AU | Halloween was known to be a free pass to dress up in costumes and live out your candy fantasies. But since when was the spooky factor replaced with romance? A girl interested in the notorious blonde is determined to beat the clock before they all go their separate ways at graduation. Maybe matching costumes will do the trick…. or will that earn you a treat?

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, no manga spoilers, no nsfw, first kiss, confession scene, werewolf bakugo for the simps, kirishima best wingman, 3k word count

When they first entered UA as freshman, it wasn’t often they spoke despite always being in close proximity to one another. She was from another world then him. Soft spoken and friendly. It was only expected of her to avoid the angry blonde and his wrath.

It stayed that way until they entered their second year at UA. Everyone was affected by the war both physically and mentally. But the most noticeable change in character was Bakugo.

He was already making progress before the incident but this pushed him further. He wasn’t that same hot head from the first day of school. Bakugo matured in a way that made herself want to know him all over again.

To be frank she was a little scared of him at first. But seeing him interact with his classmates made her realize he’s more than just your hot headed guy.

So in an attempt to build a friendship with him, she started speaking to him during class (with the help of Kirishima of course). Hoping to catch a glimpse of what he’s really like. Throughout the school year different opinions circulated around him, causing her curiosity to increase with every rumor.

She doesn't remember a time when the two had a one on one conversation with each other. Honestly she doesn't even think he knows her name. Which isn't so shocking, given that Bakugo calls everyone by random nicknames. She tends to blend into the background a lot, it's in her nature.

But today she is feeling a bit bold.

With that in mind she manages to gain the courage to ask Kirishima for help to which he happily agrees. If she were to approach him by herself, she would definitely freeze up. Good thing Kiri somehow managed to befriend their grumpy classmate. By some miracle.

“Hey Bakubro! You know that Y/N plays that game too?!” the red haired says with a toothy grin. Attempting to push her to initiate some conversation with the blonde.

Quite literally.

He physically nudges her in front of Bakugos desk.

Gee real smooth Kiri.

She stumbles a bit but thankfully catches her balance as soon as her eyes meet Bakugos. A wave of shyness comes over her whole body as he stares her down for a moment. It was a moment of awkward silence until he broke it first.

“Hah? You play pvp games?” Bakugo huffs out while furrowing his eyebrows in her direction. Seemingly to not quite believe Kirishima's statement.

“U-Uh yes! I do!” she manages to squeak out but that's all she can say due to her nerves.

With a keen eye Kirishima senses her nervousness and decides to come to the rescue, “Hey Y/N! You should play with us when we get back to the dorms. What do you say?”

Kirishima you saint!

“Ah sure! But is that okay with you guys?” she says hesitantly while glancing at Bakugo for any sign of disapproval at the suggestion.

The blonde catches her stare almost immediately, causing her to avert her gaze just as quick. He ponders for a moment but then sighs. Speaking in a grumble as he looks to the side “tch it doesn't matter to me.”

“Alright then!” Kirishima says cheerfully while giving a thumbs up to Y/N to which she gives a thankful smile back.

Spending time with Bakugo was definitely not listed on her bingo card months ago, yet here she is. A year soon has gone by and they’ve gone from mere classmates to friends. Well… at least Y/N hopes Bakugo sees her as so. It's still difficult for her to understand what he's thinking. Has she truly earned his trust yet?

It started off with admiration.

She doesn’t know when it happened. When her heart started racing whenever he spoke a single word to her. When she felt her eyes constantly drift to him unknowingly during class. When her fingers subconsciously itched to touch his own.

The way he vigorously trained to improve on whatever he was doing was captivating. His will of never giving up inspired her. She thought that he was amazing. And soon… even she believed he could be number one hero in the near future.

This feeling only grew into a small crush when she started realizing how much he’s changed in a mere few months. More patient and understanding. Though he may act distant, he was an active listener to whoever was speaking. It was cute.

Of course his personality growth wasn't the only thing worth mentioning. He grew taller and put on more muscle in all the right areas. It was especially noticeable whenever he wore those tank tops around the dorm, she couldn't stop herself from staring. Bakugo was beautifully sculpted in every way. He was stunning to look at.

As time passed she came to the realization that now is the best time if anything. In a few months they’ll graduate and be off working in agencies as hero trainees. They'll no longer be able to talk everyday like now.

She didn't want to let this relationship fade back to nothing. To mere strangers again.

So she decided that today she'll confess to him.

Class 3A will be hosting a party tonight in celebration of Halloween. A gathering with all the third year classes given that it’s their last few months here at UA. They’re running on limited time now.

Y/N spends the majority of her time trying to look her best before it's time to head down to the common area. Given that it’s a Halloween party, she’ll be dressing up. But not just any costume.

Thanks to Kirishima (her savior) she already knows what Bakugo will show up as. To no surprise he was completely against the idea of dressing up. But Kiri took it upon himself to buy the blonde a costume without Bakugos knowledge.

A werewolf costume.

She doesn't know how exactly Kirishima will convince Bakugo to wear it but she’ll just have to trust him. Y/N took it upon herself to match his future look. I mean she didn't have anything else in mind anyways. Or maybe.. just maybe… this will send some sort of sign to Bakugo.

Once she gets all dolled up, putting on extra perfume for good luck, she takes a deep breath and walks out of her room. Her hands slightly shake with nerves as she descends down the stairs to the common room where everyone is.

Halloween decor scatters all over the place in spooky banners and themed snacks. Students in different costumes dance with one another as they sing along to the music. Everything seems so lively and Y/N smiles thanking everyone who passes by and gives her compliments on her werewolf attire.

Her eyes look all over the dance floor as she walks towards the beverage table to pour herself some fruit punch. No sign of him. Is he not going to show after all?

Many ideas swirl around her head causing Y/N to get lost in thought. So much so that when another hand touches her own, her heart nearly stops at the sudden warm sensation.

“That’s not juice. Don't drink that” he mumbles as he lifts his hand from hers to grab an empty red cup for himself. Her head snaps up to look at him, only to see Bakugo already looking at her with those piercing red eyes. A neutral expression on his face, not breaking eye contact whatsoever.

Suddenly every plan she could think of, went out the window. Like his eyes pulled her into a trance. He's wearing the werewolf costume after all. A navy green jacket, a red collar with a chain leash and wolf ears…. plus a tail?!

Yeah she's definitely gonna thank and ask Kirishima about this later.

He looks good.

Really good.

“Woah! You two are matching! How funny!” the red head says as he suddenly appears beside them.

Ah, speaking of him.

Her cheeks heat up at Kirishima's comment and obvious sarcastic tone. She tries to act oblivious in hopes Bakugo won't catch on “oh i guess we do.”

Slowly she attempts to peek at Bakugos face for some sort of reaction. But to her disappointment, he’s simply filling up his cup with soda. Not paying either of them any mind.

Though she notices his pink tinted ears… hm?

Kirishima interrupts her thoughts as he suddenly latches onto Bakugo, “C'mon you two lets get out there and dance!”

“Hmph as if!” the blonde barks back as he tries shoving Kirishima off him.

This was gonna be a long night.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

Hours pass by and no luck. There was so much dancing and activities going on that Y/N had no time to talk with Bakugo at all. Either she was being pulled away by her classmates or he was.

All of a sudden while on the dance floor, she spots him walking upstairs alone. Huh? Was he leaving already?

Quickly, she excuses herself and rushes to follow him. Her legs swiftly move up the steps as she attempts to reach him. Assuming he went back to his room, she makes it to his floor and looks down the hallway. Spotting the blonde as he unlocks the door and starts walking inside.

“Bakugo!”

She sees the way he pauses and looks in her direction. Now feeling embarrassed, she slows down to not look like she ran after him. But before she can say anything else, he beats her to it.

“Don't even think about convincing me to go back. It's time for bed and I’m exhausted” he says, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“No that's not why I….” she squeezes her hands behind her back and looks to the side to avoid eye contact, “I just have something to tell you.”

The sound of fumbling footsteps and talking was heard down the hall. Probably some drunk students trying to find the bathroom. Her head turned in that direction as she heard slurred words and sloppy sentences from someone.

“hey werewolf girl c'mere for a sec-”

She was about to respond until she felt a hand on her waist and it takes all her willpower to not melt right then and there. The grip was tighter then it should be but not painful.

“Tell me inside, too many drunk idiots around” he grumbles under his breath as he pulls her inside his room with ease. His hand was so warm that she would've believed that it left a mark, it was likely due to his quirk.

“O-Oh okay…” she says as he locks the door behind her then unfortunately lets go of her waist.

Oh my god. She's in his room. No one in the class has ever been in his room before. No one even knows what it looks like!

And she's the first..

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

She sees him staring down at her and quickly her eyes shut. His brows furrowed in confusion, “what the hell are you doing?”

“Huh? Oh well… I just closed my eyes since I assumed you didn't want anyone seeing your room so-”

“You can look.”

“...sorry?”

“I said you can look. It's fine you dummy.”

Hesitantly she opens her eyes again, blinking twice to adjust to the new surroundings. The light wasn't on but the curtains were open, letting moonlight fill the room.

It was exactly like how she imagined. The room was incredibly clean and organized, but with hints of personality regarding the rare all might collectables scattered around and band posters on the wall.

“Your room is really nice Bakugo” she says as he opens the balcony door and beckons her to follow with a wave of his hand. Simply grunting in acknowledgment to her words. She walks with him outside, while attempting to cool her nerves on the way.

The two of them lean against the balcony railing in silence as they stare at the starry night sky above. Alright it's now or never…

“Um Bakugo about earlier. I just wanted to say that..” she takes a deep breath and looks at him. Her face feels like it's on fire. His eyes stare back down at her and he tilts his head slightly to the side, giving her a surprisingly calm expression.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“I-I really like-”

In an instant his hand gently covers her mouth, stopping her from continuing. Her eyes widened at his action but also at his face. His cheeks are tinted in pink and his brows are now furrowed in thought. Those red eyes look in every direction as he attempts to regain his senses. Then fall back on her face after a short moment.

“You idiot. You were gonna confess right now, seriously?” he huffs out with what looks to be a shy yet serious expression.

Wait. What?

Almost like he could read your mind, he rolls his eyes and continues looking at you.

“I knew you liked me since last year stupid” he says, almost having the urge to smirk at the look of embarrassment and disbelief on your face, “and no shitty hair didn't tell me. You guys are such horrible liars it made me wanna end it all.”

Agh how embarrassing!? Though she shouldn't be shocked given his perceptiveness. His hand that was covering her mouth fell down, allowing her to speak.

“But then… why didn't you say anything this whole time?!” she says in complete disbelief.

“I… didn't know how to feel about you or whatever” he mumbles now going back to his rare soft voice.

“But now I do,” he says while stepping closer to her. His body is such in close proximity she is sure that he can hear her heartbeat if he just paid attention.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Was waiting for your confession. Didn't expect it today though but when I saw you copied my costume… that shocked me I admit” he says as he leans his head down. His hand reached out to touch her collar around her neck. Fumbling with the material.

His eyes bore into hers as his lips barely curl up into the faintest smug grin, “A bit possessive aren't we? I didn’t think you'd be like that.”

Her whole body feels as if it's on fire. She never really thought about it like that. All she wanted to do was match with him…. right?

Now that she thinks about it, maybe unknowingly she was being a bit possessive. Trying to drive away his fangirls that he's gained these past years. Her heart thumps wildly at the realization.

“Though I don't mind. After all, I don't share either” he states with no shame as his hand goes from touching her collar to sliding up her neck to cradle her cheek.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“You mean….” her breath wavers at the implication of his words.

He hums and nods at her unspoken question, “I was getting a bit impatient here ya know? Was gonna talk to you in a week or so if you haven't confessed today. Tch damn nerd making me wait.”

“Gonna kiss you now. Ready?” he says casually, already leaning in zoning onto her plush lips. A look of desire seen in his red orbs, almost hypnotic.

“H-huh?!” she says quickly already on the verge of fainting from the sudden statement.

“What? You dont wanna?” he immediately pauses looking into her eyes for a response or signs of disgust.

“That's not it! I want to! But it's… my first” she says quickly leaning her cheek into his palm to hide her nervousness. She doesn't want to mess this up.

“It's my first too. I'll be gentle I promise” he whispers back to her with care.

That comment suddenly made her feel all giddy. Being each other's first kiss. She knows Bakugo, he wouldn't break his promises so carelessly. She trusts him. So she nods for him to continue.

“Use your words Y/N” he says as his finger traces circles on her cheek. In a somewhat teasing yet genuine tone.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“I want you to kiss me Bakugo-”

“Katsuki. We're dating now. Got that? It's Katsuki to you” he says, correcting her immediately as if he's been waiting for this forever. Like he imagined this scene many times in his head.

“Please kiss me Katsuki” she whispers to him as she sees him lean closer. A pleading look on her face.

His hands gently hold her by the waist, pulling her to him to close the distance.

“About damn time” he says as her eyes quickly close with anticipation. She could have sworn she heard a chuckle right after she did.

It didn't take much longer for him to close his eyes.

He tilts his head as his lips press onto hers. It was gentle as if he was scared he could break her given his strength. A warm sensation passes through them both, as they savor this moment under the stars.

It was only for a few seconds but when they broke apart, it felt as if neither of them were breathing at that moment.

Despite his confident words and attitude, she notices how red the tips of his ears are. A warm smile appears on her face and she keeps quiet about that discovery. He may act all cocky yet he's secretly a softie.

He shines a small smile back at her and it feels as if she's been kissed all over again. His smile is breathtaking. And she's so happy to have seen it.

“You look… beautiful when you smile” she manages to say in a softer tone just for him. Only for him.

She doesn't miss the way he tenses and how he averts his eyes. Looking just about everywhere else but her. He still isn't used to receiving such compliments yet it seems. But that's okay. She thinks it's adorable.

“So do you…” Bakugo says in the gentleness tone he can muster. But honestly it's not much of a challenge given how dazed he is at the moment.

Agh damn it. Her confidence suddenly goes away at his rare tender demeanor.

Both of them don't dare to look at one another. Not wanting the other to see just how effective words can be. Guess you both settled for a treat tonight. And the rest of your lives.

Happy Halloween Indeed.

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 2 months ago

Note

modern Jace being a simp and so whipped for his gf <3 their friends are either jealous or disgusted by how cute they are all the time

Request: More soft and in love Jace. He’s the sweetest when he’s in looooove

This was part of a longer story, but I didn't like where it was going and I miss posting so I turned it into a blurb

Warnings: fluff, Jace being in love, green flag!Jace

—

You’ve had many silly crushes in your short life, ranging from fictional men to strangers you saw on the bus, and some older boys at school. You even got into a relationship or two. But you never fell in love.

Not like this, at least.

Since you met Jace, love took on a whole new meaning. Now, you understand what the female protagonists felt in your romance books. There’s holy ground beneath you and sparks flying when you kiss. It's hard to sleep when he's not with you. You hate it when he’s crying, and feel a need to pull him in your arms until his sadness goes away.

Wherever you are, you always find a way to sneak him into the conversation. Sometimes, you worried your friend found you annoying, always talking about your man, but they were actually all jealous. A relationship like you and Jace's was rare these days.

You were sitting at the campus café with Alysanne as she recounted her date with another rat from Tinder — another disaster. She had the worst luck.

‘’He said he couldn’t date a girl who had ‘mosquito bites’ for tits. My jaw dropped at his audacity.’’

She was taking the remark with a grain of salt, used to men behaving like that, but you were truly shocked.

‘’He actually said that to your face?" you asked, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief and your voice rising in indignation.

The raven haired girl shrugged as she took a sip of her coffee, a weary smile tugging at her lips. ‘’Yeah, can you believe it? As if I asked for his opinion on my body." She rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated but not surprised. ‘’It’s unfortunate we can’t see their micro dick through their pants. A lot of them would think twice before criticizing our bodies.’’

You nodded in agreement, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Men would definitely be quieter about women’s bodies if their manly bits were on display.”

‘’Dating is discouraging these days,’’ Alysanne said with a tired sigh. ‘’I see you and Jace, and I want that too, you know?’’

‘’You’ll find the one, Aly,’’ you promised, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. ‘’But I doubt it’ll be on Tinder. This app a digital catalog of jerks.’’

It’s not that you didn’t believe in finding love on dating apps. Your parents met through a dating hotline. But Tinder finds matches around you, as in around campus. And most guys are not looking for serious relationships. They mostly just want to fuck.

Your friend’s phone beeped with a new notification — another guy she was talking to, you assumed.

Alysanne quickly read, then turned her screen off. ‘’You might have gotten lucky with your prince, but a lot of them are just plain toads. Even outside dating apps.’’

Speaking of your prince, Jace walked into the café with some friends from Political Science and spotted you with Alysanne. A smile curled on his face, quickly saying ‘see you later’s and parting from his friends. You mirrored his smile when you saw him approaching.

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders from behind and kissed your cheek repeatedly. ‘’How is the most beautiful girl on campus?’’

He could be the cheesiest person, but you secretly loved it.

Before you could reply, Alysanne beat you to it. ‘’I’m doing terrific, thanks Jace for asking.’’

You laughed, then pulled him down to sit on your lap. A lot of guys would’ve been uncomfortable with the role reversal, but not Jace. He wasn’t one to care about silly stereotypes. Whether it was him sitting on your lap or you on his, he was just happy to be close to you.

You pressed a light kiss on his shoulder, and Alysanne groaned in mock disgust, rolling her eyes as she sipped her coffee.

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden @memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit @blublock404 @Icefyre19 @paulilvsremus @mfedits @aemondwhoresworld @angrybirdxx @YarianyIrizarry @frutiloopslupin @minedofmoria @aleemendoza2425-blog @quinquinquincy @Rosey1981 @maria-reads-everything @eddieslut69 @barnes70stark @baybaybear @prettyduckling22 @Briefwinnerpersonaturtle @darlingcharling-blog @deliaseastar @Wolfgirl-205 @visenyareads @Nanaldy @Lovelywiseprincess @not-neverland06 @newtmyhusb @mikimimic

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#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #house of the dragon #hotd

392 notes · View notes

ikigaisvt · 1 year ago

Text

laundry room

in which your husband is really good at cleaning - and he looks hot doing so.

pairing: seungcheol x she/her!reader, husband!seungcheol x wife!reader, somewhat dom!seungcheol x somewhat sub!reader & somewhat sub!seungcheol x somewhat dom!reader words: 2.6k content: smut, fluff (minors dni) warnings: reader uses she/her, seungcheol picks up reader twice (sorry), they're so in love with each other, sex standing up, vry horny reader tbh, seungcheol is a teasing shit, swearing, fingering, begging, multiple orgasms (for reader), unprotected sex, cum eating(?), petnames (for reader : sweetheart, darling, baby, wife, pretty wife / for seungcheol : baby) note: i had this idea after seeing a tiktok of a married couple cleaning up every night,,, MINORS DNI or you'll be blocked. anyway seungcheol is so husband material and i can see him doing the most for his partner irl (i love him sm) i hope everyone likes it, pls don't forget to reblog!

You always knew you were lucky to have such an amazing husband; in fact, all your friends asked you at least once where you found him.

Seungcheol is truly a dream come true: he is a hardworking man, he always finds energy to cook for you, clean around the house every night, but most importantly, he never fails to make time to love you but also to satisfy you. Ever since you two started going to bed – to do more than sleeping – he always found a moment to fulfill your needs, with no shaming.

It's been over three hours since your husband came home, looking as good as ever and a little over an hour since you two started cleaning up around the house after dinner; your daily cleaning time started in the kitchen with Seungcheol doing the dishes while you were wiping down the counter tops. You stole glances at your husband the whole time, noticing the way his arms bulged at every one of his movements, his white shirt hugging his body tightly, his back tattoo showing through the thin material making you drool at the view. He was truly a sight to behold with his blonde hair gently grazing at his upper cheeks as a natural smile hangs on his lips. A few times, he took you by surprise as he turned around to meet your eyes, a chuckle leaving his lips almost every time, knowing you were turning into a puddle – down to your panties – at the way he looked.

Your cleaning made its way through the living room as you were in charge of fluffing the sofa cushions and dusting the coffee table while your husband was vacuuming. The stolen glances followed you all throughout the housework, as if you were still a shy student having a crush on your senior, as if you were not looking at your husband who fucks you every night. As you keep working on the cushions, fluffing them over and over again, being too flustered at the sight of your husband, you wish for time to go by faster so you can hop in the shower and burn your skin with cold water.

But since your husband is none other than the teasing shit Choi Seungcheol is, he keeps making exaggerated noises, groaning every time he has to bend down or push out a chair. He even goes as far as to wipe the sweat on his forehead with his shirt, his torso all in the open for you to feast your eyes upon. You almost snap a few times because his antics were distracting you from your task in hands but you know that sooner than later, it will be time to go to bed and you will somehow get what you want – like you always do. Because as much as Seungcheol is a teasing shit, he is first and foremost a simp for you.

“Are we ready to take care of the laundry, sweetheart?” your husband asks you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you organize a console in your living room, “Because it is hell in there.” He pouts, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Yeah, all done here!” you say cheerfully, caressing his hands before making your way to the laundry room, “Come on, the quicker we finish this up, the quicker we can go to bed!” you tell him as you push the door open.

“Oh, you want me in bed so bad.” He teases you making your ears burn.

As soon as you enter the room, you start to unload the dryer to fold everything up as you take special care to ignore Seungcheol’s words – and the burning sensation in the pit of your stomach as your husband starts to unload the washing machine. You start to fold up clean clothes and towels, making distinct piles of everything so it is easier to put away, trying your best to ignore your husband who’s quietly working on loading the dryer behind you – his groans and huffs still present in his breath. But as nothing comes without hardships, you fail miserably at ignoring his presence – his scent almost overwhelming you, his presence enveloping you, almost feeling his hands on you. You slowly get lost in the sensation he could give you if only he was touching you right now-

“Baby?” you hear his voice whisper in your neck, giving you goosebumps all the way down to your back, desire building in your stomach, “You’re good?”

“Hm, yeah,” you say as he starts to kiss down the side of your neck, his hands rubbing at your hips, “Just had a moment.”

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks in his deep voice, his hair tickling your collarbones and his lips never once leaving your neck, making your panties wetter by the second.

“I- fuck, I’m okay,” you say, a moan threatening to spill out of your mouth.

“Yeah? You don’t sound okay, darling,” he admits, his hand slowly making its way towards your pink cherry shorts while his other one wraps around your waist pining you gently to his body, “Is that okay?” he asks in your ear, playing with the band of your short.

“Hm, yeah,” you mumble out, one of your hands finding anchor on his arm around your waist, the other one resting on the counter top in front of you, “please,” you beg lowly, already needing him to fuck you.

“My pretty wife, begging so good for me, hm?” he chuckles, his digits crossing your shorts and panties, lightly touching your clit, wetness pouring out of you, “You’re already dripping, sweetheart.” he groans, drawing circles over your clit, building up your orgasm – as if you are not so close already.

“Only for you,” you moan, the knot in your tummy getting tighter and tighter, almost snapping, “Please- need you-” you say, reaching out behind you for his belt but before you can do as much as graze him, he takes your hand and pin it to the counter, making you bend down slightly.

“Let’s not get too greedy, now, hm? You’ve been so good for me, it’d be a shame to ruin everything now, wouldn’t it?” he warns, two of his fingers sinking in your pussy, your walls stretching to welcome him, more cum dripping out of you.

“S-sorry, fuck, feels so good,” you say, almost drooling at the way his fingers feel, plunging in and out in a timed rhythm, his thumb never once stopping its movements on your clit, bringing you so close to the edge, “I- just wanted to- know,” you try to explain, your words coming out all slurred from pleasure.

“Wanted to know what? If I’m hard for you?” he snickers, pushing his pelvis to your body, his hard-on pressing over your lower back, “Feel me.” he whispers, angling his fingers differently, grazing at your sweet spot, your moans coming out in rhythm with the pounding he settled for, “Of course I’m hard for you, darling. You should see yourself right now,” he chokes out, lightly humping himself against you, moans building in his throat, “And knowing you got horny over me cleaning around the house? Here I was, trying to be a good husband while my horny little wife was eye fucking me the entire time.” He sneers before whispering “Of course I saw you.” in answer to your whines.

“Cheol, cheol- fuck, baby,” you mumble, your orgasm burning at your stomach and all the way down to your pussy, your legs almost giving out below you, “I’m so close, can I please cum, please, let me cum, please, please, please,” you babble, feeling like your body is on fire, your eyes stinging with tears.

“Cum for me baby, go ahead,” he says, his fingers never once stopping as he wraps his arms around your waist, supporting you completely, “You can let go, darling. Let it wash over you, I got you,” he whispers, kissing your hair, before you slump in his arms, your orgasm making your legs give out and your eyes roll out. Your pussy spams around his fingers as they never once stop, working through your orgasm making you drip with cum, ruining your shorts and dripping down your thighs.

“Fuck- baby, you came so much,” your husband says as he pulls out his hand from your shorts, making you wince out. It takes you all the strength in the world to open your eyes and look back at Seungcheol, seeing him suck on his two fingers, moaning at the way you taste.

“Cheol- this is so dirty, even for you,” you moan, fully turning around and hiding your head in his neck.

“I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart,” he chuckles as he takes a hold of your face, leaning in slowly to kiss you – it always feels like he says I love you when his lips are against yours, “Are you okay? That was a lot,” he adds, resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m fine- I just feel clammy,” you pout, your fingers playing with the hem of his shirt and it takes everything in Seungcheol to not gasp when your fingers graze against his pants. Little does he knows you are doing it on purpose.

“Want to jump in the shower?” he asks, already parting from you before you grasp at his shirt mumbling something so softly he doesn’t even hear your words, “What was that, darling? Speak up for me, please?”

“No, I- want to keep going,” you whisper, not giving him any time to answer that you’re already kissing him, smoothly trying to get the upper hand before he grabs your jaw, setting out a rhythm that pleases him.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, beloved,” he says after breaking the kiss, letting go of your jaw, “You want me?” he whispers, his arms resting on the countertop behind you, caging you against him.

“Yes- please,” you say, looking up with doe eyes, “Need you- Need your cock,” you whimper, already grabbing at his shirt, pulling it up so he can get the clue.

“Fuck- Okay sweetheart, I’ll fuck you,” he says, grabbing at your waist, you lower back bumping against the counter, “Nice and slow, hm? Is that what you want?”

“Yeah- want you,” you whisper, kissing his neck, all the way up to his jaw, making him groan out. He gently taps at your upper thigh, wanting you up on the counter all for himself. Just like a meal.

He gently puts you down, your thighs immediately wrapping around his hips, feeling his cock pushing against your clothed pussy while you still try to get him to lose the shirt, “Get the shirt off,” you mumble, your words working just like you wanted – and even a little too well – as he takes a step back to take off his shirt and his pants – his briefs falling to the ground too, “Fuck- baby- didn’t know you were going to do a strip tease for me,” you chuckle, still not you used to the sight of your husband even after being with him for years.

“You’re so silly,” he says, coming back between your legs to kiss you, as you touch his shoulders, feeling his muscles move at the way he plays with your shirt, “Your turn,” he mumbles against your lips, pulling your shirt over your head and throwing it behind him, “Now, this needs to go,” he says as he snaps the waistband of your short against your skin making it redden before pulling it off along with your panties, “We’re so lucky we’re in the laundry room because we are about to get so dirty,” he jokes out, the mood feeling lighter than before, love taking its deserved place between you two.

“Now who’s the silly one, hm?” you chuckle, looking at him as if he holds the world in his hands – and probably some more, your words making him giggle before he works himself up again, his hand wrapping around his cock, pre-cum oozing at the tip, “You look so hot,” you whisper, your eyes transfixed on his movement and the way his cock twitches with pleasure.

“Are you ready for me, darling?” he asks, a blush on his face at the compliment, as he teases your hole with his cock, driving you more and more insane.

“Yeah- just fuck me,” you whine, your hips bucking towards him, “Like you know how to do. Only you know how to handle me.” you tell him, teasing him before he plunges into you, your walls adjusting around him, you two moaning at the pleasure to feel each other. To drown in each other.

“Baby- you feel so good- so, so good for me,” he whimpers, his hips slightly bucking towards you.

“You can move, baby,” you tell him, tapping his upper arm lightly before finding anchor on his shoulders, your hands playing with his hair at his nape. He sets a slow rhythm, trying to reach as deep as he can, his hips flush against yours, making you moan out every time he pushes back against you. You drop your head back, closing your eyes as he kisses down your chest, up to your neck and jaw. You feel him bite, suck everywhere he can reach while you can only pull at his hair, pressure building in your lower belly, your moans getting louder and louder.

“Feels good, baby? Am I handling you like you wanted me to?” he chuckles against your throat, his truths meeting your pussy harder, quicker as he chases after his own orgasm.

“Fuck- yeah, yeah, you’re the only who knows how to fuck me,” you choke out, pleasure building all the way up in your throat, feeling yourself teetering on the brink of your orgasm, “I’m so close, please, please, let me cum baby, please, Cheol,” you cry out, tears threatening to spill.

“Shit- hold it, p-please, wanna come with my wife, please,” he begs, his hips working harder to finally let go.

“Baby, fuck- Come with me, come with me,” you choke out, pulling on his hair harder, your thighs wrapping around his frame, “Fill me up, make me yours- Cum for your wife,” you moan, breaking the last thread of sanity you both were holding on, feeling Seungcheol’s cock twitch as you clutch around him, both of your orgasms washing over you, making you shudder at the strength of it all.

You slowly come back to yourself, feeling Seungcheol leave tiny kisses over your belly, your hands stroking his hair. He slowly looks up at you, his lips harboring a lovesick smile, his eyes shining with a thousand stars.

“If you were not my wife already, I’d ask you to marry me right now,” he chuckles, massaging your hips as he pulls out, his cum almost dripping on the counter top, “That was the best orgasm of my life.” He admits, adoration coming out on his features.

“You’re too silly for my own good,” you joke, slowly sitting up straighter, trying to avoid making an even bigger mess, “We really did a mess of ourselves,” you acknowledge, a smile ever still presents on your lips.

“It’s our turn to get cleaned up now,” he says lightly, picking you up bride style as you let out a little scream at the surprise of being in the air.

Seungcheol might be silly – for saying he’d marry you because you gave him a good orgasm – and much more, but you know where he is coming from. In fact, you’d marry him a hundred times more. For he takes care of you like no one ever will, for he holds your world in his hands and for he is your soulmate. (And also, for the mind-blowing orgasms).

thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed! don't forget to like, reblog, comment 🫶 (and pls send all of your good energy to seungcheol so he can get up on his feet quickly!)

#seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen one shots #seventeen au #seventeen fics #svt smut #seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol scenarios #scoups smut #scoups x reader #scoups scenarios #sammy's works

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vrystalius · 3 months ago

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Hey Miss Vry.

I saw your asks were open for demons and after reading the others I'm curious, could you do a "The demon that..." for Muzan; kind of the demon that I would trade my humanity for? (yes I occasionally simp for this Dominant man :"> and I'm blushing to hell for asking :P) Just a thought.

Hope you are doing great :)

The demon that I would trade my humanity for

(Muzan x sick!reader)

You have been sick since birth. You cannot walk, nor can you crawl, damned to lay in bed all day and to rot in your own misery. The only nice thing about your day is when it’s over. That way, the sun disappears behind the tall mountains and stops mocking you for not being able to feel the touch of its rays on your fragile skin.

“I see myself in you.”

That’s what the demon across you said after visiting you for the fifth time. This handsome man wanted to devour you the first time he broke into your estate, but was amused by the lack of fear or even a reaction from you. You lived your whole life in pain or misery, it’s no different if it ends in misery as well. You don’t care anymore.

Muzan Kibutsuji is the name of the demon, you learned. He’s often talking about how humans are pathetic creatures and deserve nothing but death, while his cold fingers and sharp nails brush your hair in an oddly comforting touch. He would talk about his search for the blue spider lily, the only thing that keeps him from taking over all of Japan and the world. The only thing that will keep him from becoming a god and rule over everything.

You were entertained by his speeches and were intrigued by this self-proclaimed demon king. You always heard about his achievements as a demon, how he established a ranking system and how every demon serves him. But you never found out or how he became like this.

“I was like you. A sick, frail human. The doctors said I will never reach any age after 25. I was supposed to die as painfully as I lived.”

You’re surprised to hear what he once was, and what he is now. Someone as sick as you became such a handsome, powerful creature?

Muzan almost pities you. You’re in the exact situation he was in all these thousands of years ago, just that he had no demonic lover that would take care for him. You don’t even know how truly infatuated he is by your fragile being.

One day, he decided to give you an offer you couldn’t possibly refuse.

“I could turn you into a demon, just like me. We would to rule over my lowly demons and destroy the Ubuyashiki family line. We could conquer the sun, together.”

Muzan would offer turn you into a human in exchange for a simple kiss. But as he leaned in, he scraped his fangs across the inside of his lips, drawing blood. The feeling of your lips against his felt like heaven, or how he imagined it would feel to walk under the sun without scorching up.

His blood mixed with your saliva. Suddenly, your whole body felt like it was on fire. Your body twitched and contorted, and you soon fell limp against Muzan.

“Now you and I are bound together, my dearest. Forever.”

💠

I feel so honoured to be called Miss. It makes me blush xD But anyways, thank you so much for requesting! I hope you liked this and this suits your tastes. Muzan is one of my favourite characters in kny, besides Sanemi, Genya, Yorichii & Michikatsu and Douma. Yes, I have a lot of faves…

Make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough

Take care of yourselves!

The demon that… (masterlist)

#💠 house of vry 💠#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #kny x reader #fluff #muzan x reader #muzan kibutsuji #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #kibutsuji muzan x reader #kny muzan #demon slayer muzan #muzan x you #muzan x y/n #kibutsuji kny

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who-can-touch-my-boob · 3 months ago

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<- Sanemi simp posts masterlist

He’s a funny guy!

I just feel like Sanemi would be such a funny guy in private. In public he’s maintaining his tough-guy and grumpy exterior — not letting anyone see more than a scowl.

But imagine, he probably never had the chance to truly be a child, either he’s being beaten by his scumbag-dickfaced-asshole-father, or he has to help raise his younger siblings and work.

So when he’s grown up and meets his s/o, who’s blankly ignoring his attempts at remain aloof and brings out a side of him he never knew he had.

Suddenly Sanemi is running around playing tag, climbing trees, tickle fights, prank-wars, staring contests (he’d win this one because the dude doesn’t blink). Sanemi’s s/o doesn’t only give him the love and safety he’s always wanted, needed.

But also a safe environment for him to be himself and not be afraid.

When he truly became comfortable in his own skin, he even allows others to see more than his cold and angry demeanour — for people to hear his genuine laugh and see him smiling wholeheartedly. And Sanemi doesn’t care what anyone thinks, because he’s genuinely feeling happy and free — and like a child again.

He starts to play prank on others too and has learned the art of comical timing — so the first time I delivers a smooth one-liner during a Hashira meeting everyone just stares at him in shock, did the Wind Hashira just tell a joke?

Sanemi freezes momentarily as the room falls into an awkward silence, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. The blush tinting his cheeks is unmistakeable and he regrets ever listening to his s/o about trying to be funny with anyone else.

As he’s about to speak again, somehow, hopefully salvage his dignity, the whole room bursts into laughter after the initial shock wears off.

Sanemi tries (and fails) to hide the slight smug expression and the bubbly warmth spreading through him when his attempt at humour hit the mark.

“Welcome home, Sanemi. How did the Hashira meeting go?” He immediately catches his s/o in his arms as he’s greeted with a hug at the front door. He gazes down into those familiar eyes and recognise the flicker of mischief in them.

“I know what you’re really asking… and yeah, the joke was a success. But we need to brainstorm for more jokes because now those damn people expect more.”

His home is filled with laughter and love and together with his s/o they start to plan future jokes and pranks together almost like two children.

#yeah so this was literally just a brain fart #I just spewed this out now #gods #Sanemi #Shinazugawa #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

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sunarc · 10 months ago

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Skater-Fuck Boy Gojo Headcanons

CW: NSFW headcanons underneath cut, toxic gojo, oral, cum eating, public sex, squirting, dirty talk

A/N: The divider is by the amazing @todorosie.

⇢ He knows he’s pretty and he uses his looks to his advantage. He gets free things all the time simply because of his looks.

⇢ One of the best skaters like he should be acknowledged like tony hawk but he doesn’t take it seriously because he skates for fun and it would be too much on him to do it professionally.

⇢ He’s not a good teacher because he thinks you should know these things even though you’ve never skated before

⇢ He’s very soft though. So when he’s teaching you his voice is soft, his touch is soft but when you ask him questions he’s confused on how you don’t know this already

⇢ He likes to skate at night, he says the park is empty and that when he can practice his best tricks

⇢ He loves baggy clothes but his favorite combination is the baggy cargo pants with a crop top

⇢ Has the body of a God but we been knew that

⇢ You wonder how he looks so fit because man eats so unhealthy.

⇢ Has broken so many bones he's lost count

⇢ He was so proud of you when you first got your skateboard, he even spent time decorating the board with you

⇢ Man is a flirt

⇢ He’ll do a cool trick to impress a girl and pretend like it was the easiest thing in the world

⇢ He has broken his skateboard a million times. He once pulled off a trick he had been practicing for months and broke his skateboard as celebration

⇢ He truly believes if you have not broken a bone you are not a true skater

⇢ He flirts with so many girls and blames it on him having a big heart. How could he reject someone so pretty, that would be mean.

⇢ He won't openly admit it but he’s a simp. He flirts a lot but he always tells you your his favorite and that he would pick you over anyone in a heartbeat.

⇢ Has a tattoo of a skateboard. It’s his only tattoo, says his skin is too perfect for ink.

⇢ His fingers are covered in rings.

⇢ He is openly single has has admitted this to you but always takes a clam over you saying you’re his and his alone.

⇢ Has flirted in front of you on multiple occasions. He’ll always come back to you apologizing but not with words, with actions.

NSFW

⇢ He mostly wears rings because he likes the way they look covered in your cum. His favorite thing to do is make you suck your own cum off of his ring covered fingers

⇢ He has fucked you in an empty, dark skate park. He says it’s the thrill of getting caught that gets him so hard

⇢ Gojo doesn’t like labels but he has taken an unannounced claim over you. He makes you wear an anklet with his initials so he can kiss it when he has your legs propped up on his shoulders while he fucks you.

⇢ When he gets excited he gets hard so when he lands a new trick to celebrate he fucks you in his car.

⇢ His favorite thing to do is eat you out. He claims he’s doing it for you but even after you cum his face is still shoved between your legs while he moans and begs you for another orgasm.

⇢ His only way of apologizing is by making you cum on his cock. He’s horrible at real apologies. He has fucked you for hours all while asking if you forgive him. He knows you can’t reply so he takes your fucked out moans as an acceptance of his “apology”

⇢ He once made you sit on his skateboard and finger yourself until you were squirting on the board. He later won a skate competition with that same board.

⇢ He asks you to give him a pre-competition head as goodluck. You always oblige. He has to cover your pretty face in cum or he believes it wont work.

⇢ Gojo isn’t too good to kiss you after a blowjob. He’ll cum in your mouth then kiss you so he can get a taste.

⇢ He talks you through it.

⇢“Pretty pussy needed my cock. Look at how she’s thanking me”

⇢“Cum for me pretty girl, show me how much you love this cock”

⇢ His likes praise during sex but if he has lost a competition he fucks his anger out on you.

⇢ He rarely loses though so you have to ask him to fuck you rough if you want it but he’s not just going to give it to you. He wants to hear you beg for his cock. You want it so bad so you better get on your knees and beg him like a slut

#gojo saturo x reader #gojo headcanons #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo smut #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #x reader

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loko4koko · 11 months ago

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·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ Gojo Satoru x f!reader ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

100 FOLLOWER MILESTONE CELEBRATION ✰

>fanart_credit: _3aem (via_twitter)

MDNI 18+

>word_count: 7293

>contents: slight crack (it’s a gojo fic what do u expect), established relationship, fake engagements, excessive use of “fiancé/fiancée”, satoru is DOWN BAD like ultra simp 3000 levels, kiiinda rich boy!gojo but like barely, gojo calls you “angel” and baby” a lot, cunnilingus, kinda feral!gojo too, multiple orgasms (f!receiving), multiple positions, explicit p in v, rough(ish) sex, creampie, gojo being a lil slut for you, itty bitty dacryphilia (if you squint mad hard)

there’s a standoff happening in your kitchen. a staring contest of sorts. the tension in the air is palpable, so thick you could taste it if you stuck out your tongue. your opponent is a worthy contender, giving just as good as it gets. your nose twitches with the intensity of it, eyes narrowed as you keep your gaze firm, focused.

your adversary in this battle? a red, velvet ring box.

god, it’s like it’s taunting you with it’s delicate heart shape. smug little box, just sitting on the dining table unopened. you’re not sure how long you’ve been caught in the orbit of this suspicious item, but it must’ve been quite a while, according to your boyfriend.

“babeee, i’ve been calling you! what’re you doing?” satoru appears from the direction of your bedroom, frown on his face from his belief that you’re purposely ignoring him. he slips behind you, arms around your torso as he leaves a kiss on the top of your head.

“oh,” he laughs as he fixes his eyes on what has you so engrossed, “it’s not what you think.”

this is what gets your attention, turning your head so your gaze is no longer on the little box, but on satoru instead. “what, you proposing to your other girlfriend or something?” you pout. he laughs again, annoyingly louder this time.

“baby, i’m not proposing to anybody yet. and you know i don’t have another girlfriend. it took me 3 years to get you to say yes to one date, you think i’m pulling that off again? thanks for putting faith into my game, though.” you can’t help but to roll your eyes in jest, turning in the man’s arms to wrap yourself around him.

“yeah, yeah, whatever. so…what is it then?”

“it’s a ring.”

“i thought you said you weren’t proposing…”

“okay well, technically, i am. but listen! i saw online some guy and his girlfriend went to different restaurants with a fake ring and when he ‘proposed’ to her, they gave them free food and desserts! so. we’re doing that.”

you pull yourself from satoru’s grasp, staring up at him blankly. he gives you a goofy smile in return, bringing a hand up to boop your nose when you remain silent.

“satoru….really? doing this just so you can get free chocolate lava cakes and ice cream? i’m definitely deleting tiktok from your phone, damn app gives you way too many ideas.” and there he goes frowning again, pretty pink lips downturned so dramatically.

“baby, no…i’m doing this so that WE can get free chocolate lava cakes and ice cream. what kind of selfish, evil man do you take me for? … and you’re not deleting my tiktok! how else am i going to send nanami videos he claims to not watch but always knows about when i ask him?”

a sigh leaves you as you shake your head, truly experiencing defeat. you, and everyone else that had ever met him for that matter, knew that there was no changing satoru’s mind when the words “free” and “dessert” were involved. he’d eat himself into a goddamn diabetic coma if you let him get away with it.

satoru enacts his master plan the next night, surprising you with a stunning new dress and a note that says to “look super sexy and marriageable (where the hell had he even learned that word?) as usual” left on your bed. you try your best to comply with his wishes, getting your makeup and hair as perfect as you can before slipping the very revealing dress on. you realize something rather odd while you doll yourself up; satoru hasn’t come home to get himself ready. it was almost 6pm, the time designated by him in his little note, and you were practically ready aside from some jewelry and shoes. you couldn’t imagine that he would make you wait while he showered and dressed, so you were a little bit confused, but you decide to brush it off while you pick between solid gold hoops and diamond-encrusted dangles, both courtesy of the man in question.

when 6:04pm rolls around, and your fancy yves saint laurent heels are wrapped around your feet, the front door opens. you look up from your seat at the kitchen island with a wine glass in hand, and, in the most cliché way possible, your breath is stolen right out of your lungs. satoru was always stupidly beautiful, just so gorgeous that it made you sick, but now? he looked even more alluring than usual. those inhumanly blue eyes were hidden behind his typical shades, masterfully tailored suit adorning his lanky form like it was painted on. his deep red button up, the same color as your cocktail dress, was unbuttoned for the first three (because he was a slut.) and to top it all off, he was wearing that same award winning smile that he’d dazzled you with so many years ago. if he wasn’t so set on his goddamn desserts, you’d bend over and spread your thighs for him right there on the counter.

“holy fuck,” is the first thing he says to you, grip on a bouquet of what looks like dark red carnations and burgundy roses tightening as he takes you in. he takes off his glasses as he draws in closer, pure reverence in his eyes the whole time. “angel, you look…you look fucking edible. my god. what a woman.” you’re not new to satoru’s comments and compliments, far from it, but tonight, they were hitting a little different, for lack of a better term. maybe it was the look in his eyes, some kind of compound of love and burning desire, but something else, too. something almost…determined, but you don’t know what he’d be determined to do other than put on a good show.

“so, eat me then,” you tease, though the heat in your cheeks and your eyes not meeting his gives away how flustered he’s got you. he’s still looking you over, scrutinizing every pretty inch of you with an overwhelming intensity before his steely gaze levels to yours.

“mm, tempting, but it’ll have to wait; we have to go get engaged first. these,” he holds the flowers out to you, “are yours, my arrestingly beautiful queen.” you can’t help but to laugh at his ultra-corny pet names, but they warm your heart nonetheless, rising from your stool to find a vase to fill with water.

“where were you, anyway? you show up all dressed to the nines on me out of nowhere. what, did you get ready in the car or something?” you ask, back to the white-haired man while you dig around in a cabinet.

“suguru helped me out, kept my suit and let me shower at his place..” he says, almost distantly. you can’t see it, but satoru is watching you, worshipping you with his eyes as you flit around the kitchen in your heels and your dress and your oh so seductive aura. he’s never seen anything or anyone be more mesmerizing in his life, and he knows he never will.

arriving at the first restaurant of the three satoru had planned has your nerves alighting. what if they knew you were faking it? god, how disgraceful that would be—caught in your goober of a boyfriend’s silly scheme would have you too embarrassed to show your face in public for at least two months. but then he smiles at you from the driver seat- a genuine one that eases your anxieties and soothes your concerns, one so brilliant that it instills you with the necessary confidence to go commit…whatever form of fraud this whole thing is. you give him one in return, reaching out to cup his cheek before you’re leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. you can feel him smile even wider when you do.

“so, how much do you want me to sell this? ‘cause, if i cry now, it might not be so believable at the next place.” satoru’s pushing in your chair when you speak, smoothing his hands down your shoulders before giving you a squeeze. he takes his own seat, flipping the menu open to browse through the beverage list.

“best as you can with no tears. gotta save those for the last one,” he tilts his glasses down to send you a wink, and, for the millionth time within your relationship, you’re light-heartedly rolling your eyes at him. “you got it, baby. but! if you don’t share whatever disgustingly sweet, sugar-stuffed, chocolate-drizzled, candy-coated bullshit you ask for, it’s gonna be your pretty little ass.” he laughs at your threat and throws his hands up in resignation. you might be smiling when you say it, but you surely aren’t joking, and he knows it.

you both decide to keep dinner small and light, knowing you’re going to gorge yourselves on whatever insulin-raising dishes your dear boyfriend chooses to indulge in. it’s not long after you put your fork down when he gives you ‘the look.’ you have to use all of your willpower not to smile, woosah-ing yourself into the role of an unsuspecting girlfriend about to be proposed to. you paint a look of surprise on your face when he gets down on one knee, giving you a charming little speech about how he’d “wanted to do this for so, so long” and how he “could never love another the way he loves you, never want to. so please baby, will you marry me?” it’s actually rather romantic, makes you wonder how close it all is to his true feelings for you.

you and satoru hardly ever explicitly talked about marriage, but he did always talk about how he wanted to be with you forever (or rather, that he’d jump off a bridge if you ever broke up with him, but that wasn’t as eloquent.) he’d mention plans of a big house he wanted to put you in, so he could come home to you and your warm embrace every day until he was old and wrinkly beside you. so, maybe not an outright “hey, we’re getting married some day,” but it was most definitely implied.

at the end of satoru’s little scripted scene, he pulls out that same heart-shaped ring box from the table, opening it up to showcase a square cut diamond, one you’re sure must be a piece of costume jewelry for the occasion. you gasp, climbing out of your seat to throw your arms around him with a “yes! yes, i’ll marry you!” he picks you up, standing back up to his full height as he delicately sways you back and forth. you share a kiss, one you let a few secret giggles into, before you part, allowing your boyfriend the pleasure of sliding the ring onto your finger. the patrons of the restaurant that’d been watching the spectacle all clap at what they believe to be a genuine display of affection, including your waiter from his station near the kitchen. it’s a lot of attention, but being with someone that looks like (and acts like, and is) satoru means you’re relatively used to stares and whispers. he gives you one more sloppy smooch before he’s helping you back into your seat, giving a bow of thanks to the other customers before he’s sitting, too.

when the waiter comes back to offer up your grand prize, with eyes dampened from your well-acted performance, satoru keeps it simple and orders a non-nauseating plate of assorted mochi ice cream. and when it comes to the table, he plucks one of the cold, sweet little treats in between his long fingertips and reaches his equally lengthy arm across the table to feed it to you with not a lick of selfishness. fuck the dessert, he’d share the entire moon with you if it was in his possession.

“babe, we fucking killed that. that lady? in the black blouse? she was crying, like, actually crying! i almost feel bad, but that mochi was to die for, so i’d say it was a worthy crime.” you jabber excitedly on your walk back to the car, hand in hand with your stage fiancé. he’s staring down at you as you prattle on, knows he should be watching where he’s going but fuck, you’re so stunning and you go along with his admittedly very childish desires for free sweets and yeah, he really is so whipped, it’s not even funny. he’d never deny it, either—the man who carries multiple pictures of you in his wallet and as his phone background, the man who gives you massages and shares from his candy stash when you’re on your period, the one who can’t get mad at you when you fall asleep on him during a movie he really wanted to see? there’d be an ice-cold day in hell before that man—the only gojo satoru—ever denies being hopelessly, foolishly, irrevocably in love with you.

the second restaurant that you and satoru pull your scheme on is a tad bit more upscale than the first—not to say the first eatery wasn’t upscale, would never be the case with your luxury loving boyfriend—and you absorb your surroundings from your place on the man’s arm while he checks your reservation in with the maître d. for this place, as fancy as it is, you think you’ll tone down the theatrics, keep it a little classier this time around. you don’t want to embarrass yourself or satoru with some overly acted performance that screamed fake. the suited man behind the counter leads you to a table, not smack-dab in the middle of the dining area but not very secluded either, something perfect for the exhibition you were going to put on.

“you know, you’re setting me up for some very high expectations, ‘toru,” you speak from behind your wine glass, eyes on what would be his if it weren’t for the glasses he still wears. he looks up from his menu, head tilted inquisitively.

“is that so?”

“mhm. that ring you got looks nice, but you’ve spoiled me. i’m gonna need one way bigger now. and,” you pause, taking another swig from your glass, “you’ll have to really surprise me. i mean, this restaurant is really nice, but if you keep this up, we’re gonna run out of fancy restaurants for you to actually propose to me in. there’re only so many, y’know.” your tone is coated in sarcasm, but satoru doesn’t laugh. instead, he smirks, closing his menu and placing it to the side.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about that, sweet girl. you’ll be very surprised when it happens.”

the meal is delicious, as expected, and your plates are cleared soon after. satoru’s laughing at a story you have about your neighbor’s adorable little kitty cat that keeps trying to sneak into your apartment while he pours you another glass of an unnecessarily expensive wine he insisted on.

“are you ready?” he asks when you finish, and you give him a short nod, quick to prepare yourself again for the false astonishment you have to give and the onslaught of eyes that were soon to be on the two of you.

he reaches across the table to take your left hand in his, eyes peering up at you over his glasses when he leans down to press his lips against your ring finger.

“i love you,” he murmurs before he’s up and out of his seat. he approaches your side of the table but he doesn’t do his part of getting down on one knee yet, opting instead to cup your cheek with a hold so gentle you’d assume he thought you were made of glass.

“i mean it, i really do love you more than anything in this world.” you don’t have time to respond to the declaration before he’s descending to his knee, taking your hand yet again as he gives you another speech. this one is different than the last, but just as full of genuine love.

“you make my days worth living, baby. you make the sun look like a streetlight in comparison to how much you light up my life. you’re so funny, so smart, so generous, and you put up with the…less than favorable parts of my personality with very minimal complaints.” he says that last part with a little bit of disdain and it has you giggling in a way no one else can bring out of you, despite your slightly glossy eyes. “my perfect girl, will you marry me?”

and there it is, the ring box you’d been waiting to see since you stepped into this establishment full of onlookers. he opens the box and slides the ring onto your finger before he even gets your verbal answer, but it doesn’t matter because you’re nodding and smiling like a damn idiot, as if it’s real. you try not to dwell on that thought for long.

“of course i’ll marry you, satoru.” he carefully pulls you up out of your chair and cups your face again, this time with both hands, lips against yours in a kiss much more serious than the last time you did this. there’s more applause following suit, but you can’t pay attention to anyone but satoru, who’s kissing you so deeply that the restaurant could be burning to a crisp and you would be none the wiser. when you part, he’s grinning, a little bit from the wine buzz and a lot from the adrenaline of proposing to his gorgeous girlfriend, staged as it was.

your waitress is quick to congratulate you both, and when she mentions the one thing that satoru came here for—that goddamned free dessert—he lets you choose. but you’re so generous, his sweet little sweetheart, just like he said in his speech, and you pick something sugar-stuffed, and chocolate drizzled, and so fucking satoru that it makes your teeth ache. you’re always, always, thinking about him, and he loves you all the more for it.

when you get to the last restaurant/soon-to-be victim of theft of services, you’re feeling very practiced in the art of deception. the tears you were able to evoke out of the unknowing guests, and the ones satoru almost pulled out of you had you unwaveringly confident in both your own and satoru’s level of skill as thespians this time around.

this place is a far cry from the previous two and you can tell before you even step foot inside, the architectural marvel of a building radiating the energy of one of those “sorry, we’re booked 3 years in advance” kind of places. you have no doubt that satoru could get in anywhere if he wanted to, though- the man was quick to offer bribes well into the range of some people’s entire salaries. if he wanted something, he was unrelenting, tenacious even—traits you admired greatly about him.

the moment you step inside, you start to feel a little swell of anxiety. this was..intense. the lighting was much more moody, with floor to ceiling windows giving the diners a view of a beautiful garden, lush with greenery. you and satoru had dined well before, but this was something entirely different. he leads you to the reception desk where another maître d, not dissimilar to the one before, greets you with an air of extreme professionalism. satoru gives the man his name, and you’re left a little confused when his eyes widen in what you think is surprise. he gives your boyfriend a quick nod before he dashes off, and you try not to focus too much on how expensive this place must be or why satoru would come here of all places for a free dessert, but it’s hard not to. the wall behind the reception desk is practically covered in plaques of awards, the words “michelin star” and “winner of..” plastered on most of them. you know those aren’t easily earned, so you try to think less about the exorbitant cost you know your boyfriend is paying, instead doing your best to enjoy this probably once-in-a-lifetime dining experience.

the man from before returns, with another more sharply dressed man, who grins wide when he sees satoru and yourself. he shakes your man’s hand firmly, giving a nod of his head in the direction of the dining area. the restaurant is gorgeous, past that really, but a little under-populated for satoru’s plan to have it’s most effectiveness. besides, what’s the point of a fake proposal if no one is gonna see it?

you mention your previous thoughts to satoru once you’re seated, but he just gives you a smile and says “don’t worry about anything other than enjoying yourself.”

so you don’t. you reminisce on funny, and sometimes embarrassing stories about your past with satoru—sharing laughter, and food you can’t fucking pronounce, and glasses of ridiculously high-priced alcohol.

“you’re the most wonderful woman in the world, angel,” he muses some time down the line, “thank you. i don’t fucking deserve you.” his words have you putting your glass down, reaching across the table to mirror his earlier actions by taking his hand, with your face set into a frown.

“i don’t like it when you say things like that, satoru. you do deserve me..because i say you do. you’re not- you’re not hard to love, satoru; it’s actually very, very easy. and i love loving you, and i’m gonna keep doing it every fucking day that you’ll have me. okay? so none of that,” you say, squeezing his much larger hand in your own.

“what if i wanted to have you forever?” he asks, eyes still hidden behind those increasingly unnecessary glasses. the restaurant is far more dimly lit than the first two, but the urge to complain comes only from how much you miss looking into those dazzling blue pools.

“well, i’d give you forever and then some. you’re not getting rid of me, ‘toru,” you grin, taking the stem of your glass between the fingers of your free hand and lifting it to your lips. satoru follows the movement behind his shades, watches how the delicate line of your throat bobs with your swallowing with a sort of reverie that is usually described in religious texts. he’d pray for you, pray to you, anything. he’d learn how to sculpt just so your beauty could be immortalized for all of eternity.

satoru says your name and you hum, quick to swallow down the rest of your sake before giving him a sweet smile with your eyebrows raised.

“i hope you meant what you said—about forever.” you’re about to ask him what his foreboding words mean but you’re interrupted by none other than satoru himself, rising from his seat for the third and final time this evening to bring himself down to one knee. you’re about to laugh and quietly chide him for not giving you time to prepare for the show when you hear the sound of a piano, looking over your shoulder to see a man sitting at the once unmanned instrument. you turn further still and see that all of the staff has crowded around the edges of the room, all holding intricately crafted bouquets of..dark red carnations and burgundy roses, much like the one he’d given you, both granting you space but still wanting to watch the grand gesture that your boyfriend prepared.

“satoru, what’s….did you call ahead or something? this is…kind of a lot for a dessert i could make you at home..” he smiles and shakes his head at your endearing ignorance to the situation, reaching up to pull his glasses off for the first time all night. those eyes that you missed so much, they were rimmed with a faint redness. you couldn’t help but act on your instincts, reaching out to cup his face in your careful—caring—hands. you don’t get the chance to ask him what has him tearing up so much before he starts, a speech entirely new leaving his lips.

“if you think that loving me is easy, then loving you is child’s play. loving you is…one of the greatest gifts that i have ever or could ever be granted. you don’t always see it, and i like it that way, but sometimes—a lot of times—i look at you like you created the heavens and the earth. you are the heavens and the earth to me. you’re everything to me. your laugh alone could cure me of any ails. i don’t know what i did to make such a beautiful, loving, gentle, smart, hilarious, talented woman fall in love with my stupid ass, but fuck, baby, i thank the universe every day for you. you give me purpose. you give me strength. you give me the want to continue, when it feels like there’s no fight left in me.”

your eyes shimmer with unshed tears, lips parted in genuine shock that you hadn’t expected to feel tonight. you spare another glance at the staff before bringing your gaze back to satoru, voice caught in your throat and tongue heavy in your mouth.

“satoru, if- if you’re playing with me..if you’re doing this for your damn dessert, i-“

“no, baby, this- this is real. you are…the most exceptional person i know. you love me in a way that i didn’t know was possible before you came into my life. i’m so goddamn unworthy of you, but you chose me, and i swear, that for the rest of my life—the rest of our life—i’ll never let you down. please, angel. please make me the most blessed man on the planet and marry me?”

satoru reaches into the pocket of his suit pants as you stare in amazement, mascara tears fully running down your cheeks now. the ring box in his grasp is much different than the one from your faux-engagements—it’s black, shaped like an oval with silver ornamental designs around the perimeter. and when he opens it, your lip begins to quiver.

the ring is something so uniquely satoru, a thin silver band that splits into multiple vine-like channels, with little diamonds attached for the appearance of flowers. they meet at the top where the stone resides, and fuck, it’s big. it’s aquamarine, with several little prongs holding it’s marquise shape in place. it must’ve cost a fortune, and you can’t help but marvel at it as satoru takes your hand in his own again, lips against your ring finger one last time before he’s slipping the delicate piece of jewelry onto your finger.

“i need you to say it, angel. say you’ll marry me,” he pleads, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit space. you can’t hold back the sob that leaves you, nodding vigorously as you caress his face.

“yes, ‘toru, i’ll marry you.” you say through the tears, pressing your salt-covered lips to his. there’s applause behind you, just like the other “engagements,” but this time, you don’t need them there. you’d have said yes to him if it was 3 in the morning and you were half asleep, you’d have said it in the car on the way to the grocery store. you’d say yes to him anywhere, at any time.

true to satoru’s word, he doesn’t bother with the free dessert this time around. he’s too busy thinking about going home and getting a taste of his fiancée to bother with some fancy piece of cake. and he almost doesn’t make it home, pressing you up against the car with his right hand on the side of your face and the other on your waist. he kisses you so voraciously, like if he tried just that much harder, he could swallow you whole.

“satoru, stop!” you giggle against his ravenous mouth, “a public indecency charge wouldn’t be a great start to our engagement, you think?”

“i can’t help it. my fiancée just looks so good, i don’t think anybody’d blame me if i hiked your dress up right here,” he says, leaning his head down onto your shoulder to leave a kiss or two on the bare skin. you gently push him away, coy look in your eyes when you meet his own.

“at home, the dress comes all the way off.”

satoru has you both in the car with the keys in the ignition and the gearshift in ‘drive’ within 14 seconds.

the front door to your apartment is solid wood, and it’s cold against your back where satoru has, yet again, found a surface to press you up against. you barely made it three steps inside before he was on you, groping and squeezing anything his reach would allow. his lips are sweet where they meet yours, kinda like how they always are, from all the desserts and wines he’d indulged himself in. and somewhere in there, a taste that’s wholly satoru resides. it’s your favorite flavor. his tongue never asks permission to enter your mouth—it just does, licking up every bit of you that’s on offer, and it never satisfies his appetite.

“what was that you said earlier, baby? you want me to eat you, right?” he says between his desperate kisses and fuck, when did everything get so hot all of a sudden? the hand you have on his shoulder slinks up, coming to find its place in the short hairs of his undercut, and when you scrape your nails against his scalp he sighs into your mouth.

“you’re not too full from your desserts?” you tease breathily but it cuts into a gasp of surprise when he yanks your dress up and shoves his hand under the bunched fabric to rip your panties off, only to find your bare skin at his fingertips.

“oh, fuck- no panties, baby? y’want me ta eat that pretty pussy this bad?” he doesn’t wait for an answer, snatching your lips up in a quick, biting kiss that leaves you dizzy. he drops to his knees—funny how much he’s done that today—and lifts your dress further, gathering the material up at your waist. the way satoru marvels at your pussy is something he’d always done but fuck, can you blame him? you get so wet and you taste like the world’s rarest delicacy on his tongue and you’re so fucking warm and tight when he digs you out—he’d sing hymns about your pussy from the top of a mountain.

“my pretty fiancée givin’ me such easy access…such a sweet girl you are,” he praises with a kiss to your mound, “so fucking good t’me.” but he’s just as good to you—especially now, as he spreads your thighs and hikes one of your legs over his shoulder, unhesitatingly dipping his tongue in between your soaking wet folds. the contact of the slippery muscle on your sensitive flesh has you mewling, eyes slipping shut as he feasts on you. his mouth is as slick as it is when he’s talking, stroking his tongue up and down from your clit to your hole, and back again.

“fffuck- satoru..” you whimper, subconsciously grinding your hips into his face. he doesn’t mind, though- actually he encourages it; he loves it when you use him for your pleasure, makes him feel good to make you feel good. and that rings especially true now, as he stiffens his tongue and slides it into your aching hole that’s been clenching around nothing this entire time. he fucks you with it, much like he does with his cock- giving you a mix of slow and fast thrusts and keeping you on your toes. his large hands smooth up your thighs before one sneaks away to aid in him pulling you apart. his thumb finds your clit, massaging the little button in circles and you almost lose your balance, your hand flying out to grip onto his snow-like hair. your little mewls act as encouragement for the man between your legs; he’s studied you—your body—for years, and how each little flick and roll and curl of his tongue or fingers brings you closer and closer to cumming all over him. and he uses that knowledge so freely, long tongue prodding and pressing further and further into you, tip of the muscle kissing your g-spot.

satoru knows you, knows that when your thighs shake and your breathing turns to panting, he’s got you right where he wants you. you confirm that for him, when you look down at him to see those sparkling blue eyes staring back up at you and you moan “god, fuck- ‘toru, please baby, don’t stop, gonna cum f’you.” he’s ever so obedient, thumb moving in faster circles around your clit and his unrelenting tongue fucking into you just as quick. he keeps his gaze glued to your face because you look so goddamn pretty when you cum that he can’t bear to miss it. and he doesn’t, watching lustfully as your head sinks back against the door, hips stuttering as he licks the orgasm right out of you.

“out of all the meals i’ve had tonight,” satoru starts, lips shiny with your release when you open your eyes again, “you’re the most delicious.” you’d laugh at how corny he is, but your mind still hasn’t come fully back to you yet. satoru rises back to his normal stature of towering over you, even in your heels, and he can’t help but to dip his head down and kiss you. all those same flavors from before are muted behind the taste of you, and you almost hate to admit it, but you like that a lot.

“i need to be inside of you, baby,” satoru sighs into the kiss, leaning down to wrap his big hands around your outer thighs, and you get the idea quickly, letting him pick you up so you can wrap your legs around his hips. he carries you off to the bedroom, laying you down on the plush comforter that covers your bed. you sit back on your elbows and toe your heels off, eyes following his movements as he takes off his blazer.

“god, you look-“

“fuckable?”

“very.”

“so, what are you waiting for? fuck me, fiancé.”

he takes your invitation with fire in his eyes, moving in close to undo whatever horrid contraptions are keeping you clothed. when he gets the zipper down, he’s practically ripping you out of the dress, tossing the expensive garment off somewhere behind him. he’s pulling his own clothes off just as quickly, and when he gets his pants down you can’t help but to feel him through his black boxer briefs. he’s so hard, and he’s leaking like a goddamn faucet, the wet spot you feel near his tip growing larger and larger. he’s groaning against your neck as you touch him, pushing his hips into your palm desperately. but then he decides that he can’t take the teasing and the waiting anymore, so he’s sitting up on his haunches to shove his boxers down his thighs. he doesn’t even get them fully off before he’s grabbing your calf and dragging you towards him, gripping the base of his painfully stiff cock to line it up with your sopping pussy hole.

“ohmy-GOD, fuck- ah! satoru, slow downnnn!!” you gasp, crying out for him as he slams into you with no warning and sets a pace that could rival a jackrabbit.

“s-sorry, baby, jus’ need you- need you so fucking bad, shit- hnnng, fuuuck,” he moans, gripping your hips tight as he keeps hammering into you. you can’t keep your eyes open as much as you’d like to—satoru always looks so angelic when he’s flushed and panting from the vice-like grip your pussy has on him—but it’s okay, because he moans like a bitch in heat when he’s fucking you and that’s all you need. your nails are digging into whatever they can find, one hand twisted up in the blanket and the other pressed against satoru’s flexing abs as if you’re trying to stop him, but you both know that’s not true.

“so. fucking. wet.” he groans, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. he’s so deep inside that you know you’d feel him if you touched your belly, and the thought has tears of pleasure spilling down to your temples and into your hair.

“y-you feel so fucking good- ah- mmm- look so p-pretty taking my cock like this,” he whines, one hand leaving your hip to find your throat. he doesn’t add pressure, doesn’t squeeze, just lets his hand rest there like he needed to ground himself. he finds himself angling his hips just a little differently, and only a moment later, he knows he’s got it when your teary eyes shoot open and you scream his name.

“right there, angel? my fiancée likes it t-there?” he teases, trying his hardest to keep some composure but fuck, it’s so hard when you clench that tight cunt of yours and suck him deeper and deeper.

“yeeessss,” you sob, “please! feels..so good…love you so much, love the way you fuck me..” satoru moans with you, snaking a hand under your lower back to arch you a little more, and the slight change of position has him hitting your g-spot head on with his merciless thrusts. you cum, wordlessly and unexpectedly, and satoru’s eyes widen as he looks down to see the ring of your cream that covers the base of his cock.

“ohhhh f-fuck yeah, angel, cream all over my dick, ‘s all yours, always- always yours,” he gasps.

he brings you fully into his lap and your arms instinctively curl around his neck, your head falling back as he bounces you on his cock that’s impaling you. you’re both covered in sweat now, and your slick, too—it leaks down around satoru’s dick and onto your thighs. the eye contact he makes with you in this moment is hard to look away from, so you don’t—eyes locked with his while you pant and moan and whimper his name. he does the same right back to you, choking out declarations of his love interspersed with your own name.

soon, the position changes again, when you use the little strength you have left to push satoru onto his back with your hands splayed out on his chest. he groans in surprise, sliding his hands up your hips to hold onto your waist. your gaze shifts between his blissed-out face and the sparkling stone that rests on your finger, grinding against him nice and slow.

“does this feel good, satoru?” you don’t mean for the question to come out as seductive as your tone does, but it has his hips bucking up into you nonetheless. his eyes open to find yours and he nods, digging his fingers into your flesh more when you ride him harder, roll your hips a little faster.

“f-fuck, feels like heaven, baby..keep- mmf, keep fucking me like t-that,” he answers, and you’re his sweet girl, his giving little angel, so you do. you keep fucking him just like that, pulling yourself up and dropping back down on the lengthy cock inside of you. your ass smacks against his thighs on the landing, and it joins your ragged breathing and satoru’s huffs as the only sounds in the room. he can’t help but to meet your hips with his own thrusts, not keen on taking the reigns back but adding to the insurmountable pleasure you both feel.

“will you cum with me? please, ‘toru- need to feel you..” god, how could he ever deny you when you ask so sweetly, one hand still on his chest and the other on yours, palming at your tit with a pinch of your pert nipple every now and then. his brow is furrowed—plush lips parted with his moans and he’s nodding in response again.

“yeah, baby, yeah- ‘m so fucking- hah- c-close.” a look of focus forms in his eyes when one of his hands slips down from your waist, nimble fingers toying with your sensitive clit. your moans rise in pitch and volume, heart pounding in your chest as you get closer and closer to the edge. you can practically feel him pulsing inside of you, know he’s almost there too, and you ride with more determination, tits bouncing with the effort. he looks so desperate from his position beneath you, desperate to cum, desperate to fill you to the brim with his hot load. you’re left gasping, shouts of his name torn right from your throat when he plants his feet into the mattress and starts to thrust up into you, fingers still pinching and pulling at your engorged nub. he fucks into you so roughly, eyes shifting between the spot where you conjoin, watching raptly as his cock slides in and out of your hole, and your sweet face, mouth hung open and tear streaks on your cheeks. both are a pretty sight to him.

“‘m gonna cum, ‘toru- cum for me, too, need it inside me so fucking bad,” you whimper, and you weren’t lying. only a few more thrusts and some circles rubbed onto your clit and you’re crying his name, creaming all over his cock again. and satoru can’t hold off anymore, doesn’t want to, and the way you clench and squeeze him makes that an impossible feat anyway. he stills his hips the best he can but they still stutter with the intensity of his orgasm, letting out rope after rope after rope of his sticky fluid inside of your needy little hole.

you roll off of him when you get the strength to do it, still panting with the exertion. but satoru is clingy, even more so after sex; so with your eyes closed, you don’t see it, but rather feel the man’s hands tugging you close. he drapes his sweat-sticky body around yours, nuzzling his face into your neck where he leaves a few cheeky kisses.

“thank you.” it’s silent for a while before he speaks, and the words have you cracking your eyes open to look at him. he’s already beaten you to the punch, wide blue eyes looking up at you.

“for what?” you respond, bringing your hand up to smooth his hair down. he practically purrs at the sensation, but he answers you regardless.

“for saying yes to me, to forever.”

the snort that comes out of you is unintentional, but you can’t help it. he sounds silly thanking you for that, so you tell him as much.

“satoru, you make it sound like you had to bribe me into being with you when you say things like that. y’know, i meant what i said, about you being stuck with me. couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, baby. this just makes it..more official.”

“guess that’s true, huh?”

“you’re damn right. and when we get married, i’m going to use my new powers for evil.”

“what??”

“oh, yeah. i’m gonna terrorize everyone. pranks galore. and i’ll tell them gojo did it. and they’ll just assume it was mr. gojo, not the kind and sweet mrs. gojo.”

satoru’s jaw drops, sitting up to gape at you. you just shrug in response, smiling innocently at your soon to be husband. he shakes his head, deep in thought for a moment before he grins, eyes hard set on you.

“what?” you ask, playfully narrowing your own eyes.

“i think i want to marry you tomorrow.”

>authors_note: WELL. it’s finally here (took me long enough i knowwwww🤫) ENDLESS THANKS FOR 100 (we’re almost at 200 now but let’s cross that bridge when we get there heheh)

>next up: firefighter!satosugu (after like 3 months of me talking about it IM SORRYYY)

>thank you for reading ♡︎

>masterlist.exe

>send a request here!

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader

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itsclydebitches · 1 year ago

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Zevlor: An Angsty Character Analysis

Hey, Zevlor simps. Can I interest anyone in 4,000 words about our favorite disaster tiefling? 💀

“We can’t stay, but we’ll be slaughtered if we leave—we’re no fighters.”

Back during my first play-through this is the line that turned Zevlor from another dime-a-dozen, exposition spouting NPC to a character I was legitimately interested in. “We’re no fighters.” My DnD ignorance abounds, but even I could see that wasn’t an accurate statement. Here’s a mountain of a man sporting fancier armor than my level 2 Tav knows exists yet, having wrecked half the goblin hoard with his crossbow and, if you let him, he'll happily turn to punching as a solution to verbal disagreements. Plus, he’s clearly the one giving the orders, so what do you mean you’re not a fighter?

Having explored the Grove a bit I chalked it up to a generalized assessment of the refugees as a whole. They’re mostly kids, civilians, and would-be protectors who only look the part of fighters in cobbled-together armor. One woman is grappling with the guilt of killing someone for the first time, even an enemy. Lakrissa is sure they’re all going to get slaughtered and is willing to put money on that fact. Meanwhile, the couple you meet are more concerned with what pet they’ll get when they somehow, someway, make it to the city. Don't worry about how that'll happen. You learn later that even those like Ronan are small potatoes compared to most of the baddies you’ll face. On paper he looks and sounds like the real deal—dressed in robes, talking up an apprenticeship with the famous Lorroakan—but scenes like the celebration light show and his own fury at needing to be saved, again, highlight how far he still has to go. The point is that Zevlor is right: these aren’t fighters and he at 18 strength, paladin, former commander, is definitely the exception.

However, BG3 is the sort of detail-heavy game where I’d expect them to include that exception in the dialogue. “We can’t stay, but we’ll be slaughtered if we leave—these people aren’t fighters.” Zevlor’s inclusion of himself in this assessment continued to nag at me and it didn’t start to make sense until I delved into his tag here on tumblr, with more patient players than myself posting everything there is to know about the tiefling. (Thanks, all.) Zevlor is fascinating to me in part because he has this contradictory nature, one example of which is that he’s a very talented fighter who desperately doesn’t want to be a fighter anymore.

…but also he totally does.

We overhear in his dialogue to Tilses that Zevlor is adamant about shedding the titles he’s earned through combat: Hellrider, Commander, Sir. He insists that they’re just civilians now and it’s not like he’s being disingenuous here—note that he introduces himself as just “Zevlor” to Tav. Zevlor means what he says to Tilses and we can see that he’s trying to both reinforce his point and lesson the blow by referring to her as “Tilly.” The nickname is a sweet one, hinting at their close bond in just a single word, reminding her that he’s not saying this to hurt her, he cares for her… but the nickname is simultaneously something he never would have used as her commander. The intimacy meant to comfort is also a hard blow to weather. They're now people who use nicknames inappropriate for the hierarchy of battle.

So Zevlor means what he says here, means it enough that Tilses is convinced and drops her use of “Commander,” but there’s definitely a hint of bitterness in his voice. At least, I’ve always heard it. Zevlor is steadfast in his conviction here, even going so far as to say, “I’m done soldiering, Tilly” when discussing what will come next at Baldur’s Gate. Yet for all of that his tone conveys (understandable) anger and disappointment that it’s come to this. Zevlor doesn’t act like someone who truly wants this change, but rather someone who’s been forced to accept it.

Is it outside forces unwillingly influencing him then? Did Avernus truly change things irrevocably? No, not really. At least, not in the way Zevlor likes to claim. Tilses herself states that being a Hellrider is for life; nothing can take away that title. You lost your post? Your whole city? Most of the people under your protection? Doesn’t matter! You’re a Hellrider forever, no matter the circumstances. I can easily picture a time in Zevlor's life where he would have agreed with Tilses wholeheartedly. They are Hellriders, dammit, and so long as there’s one person looking for their help they will wield that title alongside their blades. And right now, Zevlor has a lot more than just one person in need of his assistance.

So it’s not that Avernus truly stripped them of that identity. Nothing can do that. Zevlor is not rejecting titles and planning retirement because the mechanisms of fate are forcing him to.

He’s doing all that because he’s lost confidence in himself.

Even as someone with a shaky understanding of DnD classes, I love the parallel between a broken oath and the rejection of a lifelong title. If Zevlor can fail in his oath—or in his faith entirely, according to the memories stemming from his pod—why-ever would he think that any other ‘permanent’ part of his identity was worth fighting for? If you can loose the very thing you’ve built your entire life around, every important aspect of yourself, tied to your very soul… what’s a bestowed title compared to that? Zevlor doesn’t believe himself worthy of being a Hellrider anymore, but I think that goes deeper than a string of horrific circumstances making him feel incompetent. As an Oathbreaker, Zevlor likely believes that if he couldn’t uphold that, he can’t uphold anything. Calling himself a Hellrider would be a lie. A fiction. A pathetic, dangerous, insulting fiction at that. It’s like calling yourself the “Hero” while continually failing those around you. Sure, others might insist it’s a title you’ve earned, one you will always carry with you, but you don’t believe them anymore and at a certain point calling yourself that feels worse than embracing the title of “Villain." You don’t want to be the villain… but you want to pretend you’re the hero even less. Pretending is exhausting.

We see this struggle in the many ways that Zevlor fails, or almost fails, to uphold the ideals that originally guided him. I use the term “villain” above deliberately because Zevlor is not merely a former hero-type who’s self confidence has been shattered, or who has been reduced to a civilian, or who thinks themselves useless; he’s actively fighting against temptations that, under less stressful situations, he’d never even consider. I don’t think he is a villain, I think he’s a flawed, struggling victim who sees his own, inevitable mistakes as villainous—and the longer that warped perspective continues the easier it is to fall into bad behaviors. This cycle is perfectly summarized in the autobiography Zevlor keeps by his bed:

“When every passer-by thinks you a thief and a heretic, it is deeply tempting to become one.”

We don’t know if this is Zevlor’s autobiography (as far as I’m aware, anyway) but even if it’s not the words have clearly resonated enough for him to keep them nearby. This particular line paints a pretty clear picture of Zevlor’s struggle. If everyone you meet says you’re devil-kin, vermin, or would-be criminal, isn’t it easier to just give them what they want? If you can’t persuade them otherwise, why put in the effort of trying? If he can’t be Faithful to his God, why have faith in anything at all? If he can’t save these people—setback after setback, mistake after mistake—why is he even making the effort?

Zevlor obviously is trying, very, very hard, which is why such thoughts are merely temptations rather than actual, questionable actions. Still, the Grove gives us numerous examples of the precipice he’s balanced on—and the ways Tav can tip him in one direction or another. You can talk Zevlor down from his anger and get him to acknowledge his disgust in nearly sinking to Aradin’s level. You can also let him boil over and punch the human at a time when the last thing anyone needs is more violence. You can convince Zevlor that there are peaceful ways of stopping Kagha's ritual, or you can help him in pursuing the darker temptation to kill her. It’s a “low” thought, but at his own admission he hasn’t been above entertaining it. Zevlor’s requests for help, though always polite and humble, carry a spark of manipulation in them too. He’s not above leveraging your previously selfless good deed to his advantage—"She owes you for saving this grove"—and if you approach him before speaking with Kagha he’ll claim that the ritual will “be trouble—for all of us.” Except, no? Not really? Tav can make it clear that they’re just here for a healer, they’re only passing through, and as a fighter they are not beholden to the Grove’s sanctuary as the teiflings are. It’s not trouble for everyone involved, yet Zevlor frames it as such in the hopes that (unnecessary) self-interest may motivate you if selflessness fails. Finally, if Zevlor dies in your play-through and you use Speak the Dead on him, he will admit to having “plenty” of secrets, none of which he’ll share. Admittedly, this may be the result of cut content, specifically a story-line in which Zevlor knowingly betrays the tieflings rather than being tricked by the Absolute. Still, the game as it stands is the story we have and within it we’re given a man who is both fighting against these dark urges (ha) and has a past riddled with secrets. If Zevlor is anything, it’s blunt when it comes to his own failings, accurate and otherwise. So how terrible must these secrets be that he outright refuses to divulge them when, generally speaking, most corpses speak freely in death?

However, out of all of this the struggle I’m most intrigued by is the one surrounding the gate. Zevlor represents the tieflings: persecuted refugees, vulnerable civilians, people seeking to survive through cooperation, specifically by joining a community. Kagha represents the druids (or at least a vocal subset of them in Halsin’s absence): bigoted individuals, powerful fighters, people seeking to survive by giving in to their fears, specifically by keeping themselves isolated. This is the moral dichotomy of the Grove and it is symbolized through the gate. Zevlor wants to open it to everyone whereas Kagha wants to close it, permanently.

So isn’t it odd that Zevlor is the one ordering it shut?

When the scene first starts Kanon shouts down that no, he won’t open the gate. Zevlor said that no one is allowed in. Notably, he’s saying this to Aradin and his crew, people that the Grove is at least passingly familiar with, given that Halsin left with them to search the temple. It’s also notable that Zevlor isn’t expecting goblins to attack the Grove. He’s shocked that this is suddenly a problem, brought about by Aradin’s decision—“You lead them here?”— and the entire point of staying at the Grove is that it’s at least comparatively safe. Yes, there have been more attacks lately, but Zevlor seems to be relying on the Grove’s relatively unknown location, as well as the fact that goblins are normally disorganized. The safety is only compromised because Aradin brought a hunting party back, so Zevlor has no reason to expect any visitors, let alone ones that would be a threat.

More importantly, he should welcome such visitors even if he did expect them. After all, that’s precisely what the tieflings are: strangers with no ulterior motives other than to survive. Broadly speaking it makes perfect sense why he'd shut the gates. Zevlor’s first priority is to his people, so anything that keeps them safe is, theoretically, a good thing. But through the lens of his specific characterization and this specific, moral dilemma, it’s an awfully hypocritical decision. Based on everything we’ve seen, our party would not have been welcomed by Zevlor if we’d arrived without danger on our heels and a rescue to endear him to us. So his people should be welcomed, trusted, kept safe, given the benefit of the doubt… but Zevlor isn’t necessarily willing to extend that same trust to others. At the end of the day, he and Kagha want a version of the same thing: safety for those they deem are worthy of it.

It’s precisely these flaws and temptations that make Zevlor such a great character to me, even before he’s tricked by the Absolute. The fandom has leaned hard into Zevlor’s self-loathing and let me tell you, I love it (kisses, hugs, and cookies for you all), but canonically I think he has more reason to fear himself than we tend to portray in the H/C fics. I’m not saying he’s a bad person. Rather, it’s precisely because Zevlor is such a good person that he has the capacity to fall so far. It’s his all-consuming desire to protect his family that leads Zevlor to do and consider so much that a paladin would normally balk at. Denying others the safety you’ve been granted. Subtly manipulating others to do your dirty work. Considering murder.

Zevlor is someone torn between doing the Right Thing and the thing he believes will help those under his care survive. Importantly, when we first meet him he considers these to be two separate courses of action. So can you imagine what goes through his head when he first sees Tav saving everyone and doing so righteously? I think it’s integral to Zevlor’s characterization that the game all but forces you to play the Good Guy in that initial encounter. A cut scene starts, you’re thrown into combat immediately afterwards, and unless you plan to start attacking the Grove members alongside the goblins (which the mechanics discourage through the coloring that distinguishes enemies from allies) you will always finish this fight as Zevlor’s hero. Sure, you can be an asshole afterwards and demand payment. You could already be plotting your betrayal and the slaughter of all the refugees. But in this moment you are nothing but a miracle made flesh in his eyes. Right from the start Tav is succeeding in all the ways Zevlor feels like he's failed. You're the hero.

More specifically, you’re an Every-Man Hero. We might have epic backstories for our Tavs, but within confines of the game you’re largely a nobody when not playing an Origin character. How powerful must that have been to witness then? A total stranger, someone who has no ties to the tieflings or even, depending on your class, any sworn reason to help others, putting their life on the line to save what is most precious to Zevlor? I think a lot about the fact that he never asks Wyll to step in and try to change Kagha’s mind. She owes him just as much as she does Tav—Wyll is an equal participant in that fight and, if your shoddy play style is anything like mine, he likely did more damage—and Wyll is clearly invested in the tiefling’s survival, training the kids as he is. Now, obviously Zevlor’s reticence is largely a question of assigned roles (we need to be the one engaging with Kagha because we’re the protagonist/player) but, like Zevlor’s choice to include himself in the Not a Fighter group, it would have been all too easy to explain this away within the narrative. One comment about how Wyll already tried and failed, or how Kagha doesn’t trust Warlocks, or hell, maybe you don’t meet Wyll in the Grove at all. It’s an easy thing to accomplish and though this is edging more into the realm of headcanon than anything else, I can’t help but think that Wyll isn’t the kind of person that Zevlor could turn to for help right now. Because he’s a folk hero. The Blade of Frontiers, known far and wide for his impressive, selfless deeds. Zevlor is struggling so hard to keep the tieflings safe, tempted by all the unsavory solutions that might achieve that, drowning in self-hatred as his past and current failings catch up with him, wanting nothing more than to be his peoples’ protector:

“I would be a paladin again—with a god’s purpose, a god’s power. Everything I needed to protect my people. And all the while, the cult tortured them. They fought, and ran, and died around me, while I imagined myself their savior.”

Three of the things Zevlor mutters while trapped in the pod are “Hellrider… for… life…,” “Trust… in me…,” and “Children… look away… look at me…” He wants to be the protector, the one children look to for reassurance, he wants his words to Tilly to be a lie and he wants a way to prove that he is a Hellrider for life… but he’s not. At least, Zevlor doesn’t believe it. He lost his titles while Wyll still proudly bears his. Wyll trains the children to fight while Zevlor can only get swept up in anger at them being threatened. The people trust Wyll, adore him, he’s the hero and Zevlor… is not. Not anymore.

It’s too painful to approach Wyll and admit all that. That would be a hell of a blow to Zevlor's pride. But Tav? A stranger? A nobody? The Every-man who had no reason to help or reputation pressuring them, saving them anyway? That’s inspiring. Someone like Tav could be the answer and even, perhaps, the proof that Zevlor could redeem himself. Neither of them are folk heroes, untouchable in their assumed perfection. Tav is a living, breathing example of how the flawed, everyday adventurer can be everything Zevlor strives for.

No wonder he won’t shut up about them in the Shadowlands.

All of this is why it’s so tragic that Zevlor wasn’t given a redemption arc. Sure, you can recruit him for the final battle against the Netherbrain, but there’s no quest to change the cast’s opinion of him—or change Zevlor’s opinion of himself. All his content at the end of Act 2 and Act 3 reinforces that self-hatred.

Let’s make a list, shall we?

Nearly every line of his reunion with Tav has Zevlor painting himself in the worst light possible, from “a lie kinder than the truth” to his refusal to join you because he believes he’ll stab you in the back. You cannot convince him of the Absolute’s manipulation and there’s no response to his belief that such horrors start within the person like, “Of course it does! Because we’re all flawed and equally capable of good and evil deeds! That potential doesn’t make you irredeemable, Zevlor, it makes you mortal!!”

He’s utterly failed as his peoples’ champion and he’s also deemed “unworthy” of being a True Soul. Obviously not being chosen by the Absolute is a good thing, but for a man drowning in self-loathing that’s one hell of a complicated rejection.

Nearly all the tieflings hate him now, all those people he’s been sacrificing his soul to keep safe. I found it particularly devastating that this is one of the rare occasions where nailing a persuasion check doesn’t change the person’s mind. There’s at least one tiefling at Moonrise (I’m drawing a blank on her name) who will believe you when you explain how the Absolute influenced Zevlor, but that doesn’t lead to forgiveness.

Zevlor is deemed unimportant on a literal, narrative level. He is very easy to miss in the pods (I nearly did on my first play-through) and the game does incredibly little to dissuade you from that mistake. Putting aside for a moment that obviously an Origin companion is more significant than a minor NPC, compare this to Shadowheart screaming from her own pod, the game making it abundantly clear that this is someone in need of help—someone worth rescuing. She’ll even say later that you could have run past, more concerned with your own survival and the big picture heroics to bother with her. How must it feel then, if Zevlor ever learns that Tav was there and never stopped for him?

If you do miss Zevlor… oh boy. We’ve probably all seen at least a recording of Orin’s so-called gift. There are plenty of characters who can meet untimely and devastating ends, but very few go through this level of horror. Zevlor—after being held captive, remember—is tortured by God’s Favorite Torturer. He is stripped of his personhood and reduced to a mere “message,” a “pet.” Zevlor is further humiliated in death by being literally stripped of his armor—not just vulnerable in his nakedness, but denied the last symbol of his faith, his status, his power—and it’s always struck me that this is the closest we see to him 'enjoying' an intimate moment, this parody in Orin’s painting. Zevlor is one of the NPC’s most in need of physical comfort and instead he’s forced into this torturous mockery of a sex scene. It also hits hard that when Tav first spots his body the narration says that Zevlor “might almost be sleeping.” Undoubtedly this is a man who isn’t taking good care of himself. He needs a good night’s rest, yet this horrifying trick is all he gets.

As if all this weren’t enough, most of your companion are VERY critical of Zevlor while commenting on his demise. It’s one thing for the tieflings to believe the worst given their ignorance and the fact that they are the ones who suffered from Zevlor’s failure, but your company understands the Absolute and the ways that she gets her hooks in people. Still, Astarion calls him a “wet rag” even if he did deserve better than this. Shadowheart wouldn’t have wished this on him either, but she can’t help but slip in a “no matter his failings.” Lae’zel, often the most blunt, straight up says that he was “always destined to fail his people—and to fail us.” Wyll shakes his head and intones that “even good intentions can lead us down deadly paths.” Only Gale and Karlach stick to mourning the dead rather than airing his shortcomings.

When I spoke to my allies before the final battle Zevlor didn’t have a cut scene. It became clear to me later that this must have been a bug in my play-through, but at the time it only reinforced my feelings that his story was incomplete. Looking on Youtube I’ve found recordings of him saying that he is a Hellrider once more and he would “die a proud man if [he] were to die this day”… but that rings as terribly hollow given where we left him. Last we were together, Zevlor was saying in no uncertain terms that he could not be trusted, he would fail again, he was unworthy of forgiveness. Where did this change of heart come from? It makes perfect sense that he would help Tav in this moment—he begs to be of some use after getting free—but not that he would present himself with such confidence. Within the story as it’s been told this feels… fake. Like Zevlor is putting on a mask to fit the mood of this lively, optimistic party. Which, in turn, gives the “I would die a proud man” line a terrifying implication to me. Does Zevlor expect to die this day? Does he intend to? What would persuade him not to lay down his life here and now? His mission is complete. The tieflings are safe—though not by his hand. There's no hero's welcome waiting for him after this battle. They hate him. He hates himself, and by his own admission the one thing that could still make him proud would be to die at Tav’s side, trying to do one last bit of good. If someone said that to me after everything Zevlor has been through I would keep them far away from the front lines.

(I did, for the record lol.)

I’m not saying anything new then when I go, “Larian, PLEASE add more to his story.” Give us a Zevlor side-quest to renew his oath. Let us invite him to our camp. Something to link the broken man mid-game and the confident fighter at the end so that the latter doesn’t feel like an alarm bell with two legs and a tail. I mean yeah, I get hooked on minor characters so 75% of this is simply me wanting more content of a fave, but I also I do legitimately believe that BG3’s story would benefit from tying up loose ends like this.

Zevlor is a fantastic character, someone who contains an astounding amount of complexity for so little screen time. You have to follow up on that complexity though. If he’s meant to be a purely tragic figure, okay, fine, that’s the ending you get with Orin. But one where he joins you with a smile and reclaims a title he's previously rejected with such fervor requires more work in the middle; a through-line that explains how someone with so much self-loathing learns to think of himself as the hero again.

Because it does all come down to Zevlor’s perception of himself. He was always a hero, flaws and all. He always was and always will be a Hellrider.

The UI knows what's up :)

#BG3 #Zevlor #bg3 Zevlor #wow this took forever #someone cry over this wet cat of a tiefling with me #mymetas

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