#god shes being soft and so am i | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starlostseungmin · 3 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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gothgoblinbabe · 4 months ago

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She Wolf

A/N: I said I was gonna get this done and it took me way too long and has an absurd word count but I am incapable of holding in word vomit! Inspired by She Wolf by Shakira cause idc its GOOD and it got me thinking' so here it is. Also you don't have to listen to the song as you read but I think It's fun!

Summary: You've got a crush on your best friend and he's a bit of a dick. He regrets it and tries to apologize but you're already trying to push yourself to move on any way you can, even if it's in some shady club you'd never been to before.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, swearing, Logan's kind of an asshole for a minute, Possessive/jealous!Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), friends to lovers cause that's my fave, fem reader, mutant reader, unnamed creepy guy (?) aaaand Logan absolutely has a pain kink. I think that's it but if there's any I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 7K (im so sorry but I'm not though)

divider credit here

“Are you ever gonna tell him?”

You looked up from your desk towards Ororo’s voice, sighing and taking your glasses off your nose.

“God, I don’t know, ‘ro. I don’t think I should. It’s just going to end with me being humiliated and him never wanting to even be in the same room as me again.”

You’d had a crush on Logan Howlett since the day you first walked through the doors of the mansion six months ago. You’d probably be considered best friends by now with how much time you’d spend together, doing jack shit around the mansion on your days off. Just about everyone could tell he had a soft spot for you and that you had one for him. Logan was a classic ‘tough guy’, constantly trying to hide his kind nature with a hard exterior, but it took only a couple weeks for you to crack that barrier. You weren’t exactly a seemingly ‘soft’ type either.

You’d spent the majority of your life before you joined the X-men hoping from couch to couch and hitching rides with strangers, not really having a destination or a place to call home. You’d been dropped off at a church when you were fourteen, around the time you started to turn every full moon. Your parents couldn’t live with having to chain their mutant daughter in their basement once a month, and so they dropped you where they thought you’d find some ‘help’. You’d been passed from foster home to foster home till you were eighteen, each one passing you up the moment they realized you were not like them. It was always a slip of the mask, something setting you off to make you so enraged your eyes gleam yellow and your sharp canines make an unfortunate appearance. You took off the second you could and being on the road came with its fair share of creeps; men with terrible intentions looking for opportunities. You’d never wanted to hurt anyone - truly - but when cornered by a creep, it was hard to think anyone would miss them. A couple of local newspapers caught on, debating where the wolf that tore men to shreds had gone. You weren’t an animal. You just had teeth like one.

Knowing you couldn’t lurk in town much longer, you’d hitchhiked your way to a camp occupied with people like you; lost with no place to call home. It was there that you’d met a couple of mutants who told you about Charles Xavier and the place that seemed completely unreal until you set your eyes on it. That felt like a lifetime ago by now.

“I think you're underestimating how he feels about you,” Ororo said, bringing you back to reality. She was sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through one of your magazines as you worked at your computer to try and make a lesson plan for the coming week.

“I think you’re overestimating how he feels about me,” you let out a short laugh, shaking your head.

Just as she was about to retort, you both heard someone shout your names from the hallway. You looked at each other curiously and left the room, hearing shouting again.

“Are you guys gonna play Monopoly with us or what?”

You both giggled and made your way downstairs towards Scott’s voice. Him, Jean, Marie, Bobby and Logan were all sat in the living room, the game already set up on the coffee table. Bobby and Marie were picking out their game pieces, assigning everyone else to their own piece.

“Okay, Logan, you’re gonna be the dog,” Marie smiled, dropping the little metal piece into the palm of his hand.

He was definitely not as amused, “why do I have to be a damn dog?”

Ignoring him, she handed another piece out to Jean, “you’re the thimble.”

She then handed the boat to Scott, the top hat to you, and the iron to Ororo. You all began the game after Scott painstakingly over-explained the rules and how to play.

It was a good bit into the game that you all became distracted with conversation, eventually leaving the board game untouched. The topic of compatibility came up somehow, the conversation focused on the joy of Bobby and Marie.

“I think anyone would be lucky to have what you guys have,” Ororo smiled, shifting her gaze between the two of them.

“And what we have, obviously,” Scott joked, hanging his arm around Jean.

“Gross,” Logan chimed in, taking a sip of the beer he’d hidden in the back of the fridge.

“I think someone is jealous,” Ororo said in a singsong voice, poking his arm.

“Of having someone hang on me all the time? No, thanks,” he scoffed.

As stupid as it was, it made you a little sad to hear he had no interest in even entertaining the idea. It wasn’t a surprise, but still a disappointment nonetheless.

Ororo brought up your name and your eyes went huge, silently begging her to keep her mouth shut.

“You don’t seem to mind her hanging on you all the time. I think you’d be cute together,” she said, smiling mischievously at you. Scott and Jean agreed and you had never wanted to smash your head into a coffee table as much as you did in that moment.

“Nah, definitely not my type of girl.”

It was just seven words, out quick without a second thought, and yet it felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You couldn’t take your eyes off the monopoly board on the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Definitely not my type of girl.

“I think I should head to bed, it’s getting late,” you mumbled, keeping your head down to hide your blushed face as you got up from the couch and practically ran out of the room and up the stairs.

“What the hell was that?” Scott scolded Logan the moment you were out of sight.

“That was so mean,” Ororo chimes in, backhanding him on the arm.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Logan said nervously , shrugging his shoulders, “…do you think she’s mad at me?”

“Probably more hurt than mad,” Jean said honestly.

“Shit,” he sighed, putting his beer down to rub his face with his hands, “what do I say?”

“Not that,” Marie replied, “why did you even say that anyway? You could’ve just said no.”

“I think you like her and you’re being mean so that she wont like you back because you’re afraid,” Ororo said after a moment of silence.

Logan sat quiet for a moment, his hands still over his face.

“Am I that easy to read?” His voice was muffled through his hands.

The rest of them couldn’t help exchanging knowing smiles.

“So you finally admit it,huh? You’ve got a crush,” Scott teased.

Logan moved his hands from his eyes to glare daggers at him, “you shut your fucking mouth or I’ll shove that monopoly board where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Jean whispered to her boyfriend.

“Talk to her when you see her tomorrow. We’re not going to let you hurt her feelings just because you can’t accept your own,” Ororo advised, lightly patting him on the shoulder.

“Do you think she’s even gonna talk to me?”

“Only one way to find out.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan tried to catch up with you the next day, always seeing you as you were leaving a room he was entering or passing by and even then, you ignored his calls of your name.

It was a little after dinner now and because it was a weekend, a couple of kids were up playing the PlayStation in the living room. Bobby and Marie sat with them, taking turns with the controllers.

Logan entered the room after about three laps around the mansion, mentioning your name to the both of them.

“Have you guys seen her? I’ve been trying to talk to her all day, she keeps running from me.”

“Can’t really blame her,” Bobby muttered, his eyes never leaving the TV screen as he button smashed.

“She’s in her room,” Marie answered before Logan could come up with a retort, “she went up before dinner, said she wasn’t hungry.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair, “she’s skipping dinner now too, great.”

“Go talk to her!” She insisted, shooing him away with a wave of her hand.

He made his way to the stairs and up to your bedroom, knocking lightly on your door. Hearing nothing, he knocked again, a little harder. Still, nothing.

“You can’t avoid me forever, you know. I wanna talk about yesterday, I was a dick.”

Silence. Now he was a little worried. He tentatively grabbed the doorknob and turned, cracking it open a bit.

Your bed was made, your desk was neatly organized and you were nowhere to be seen. He noticed your purse was gone from the usual spot you’d leave it in and your closet was open, a couple garments and some shoes strewn about on the floor. It looked like you’d gotten dressed and dipped. He figured maybe Ororo or Jean might know where you were, leaving your room and looking for them instead. He found them shortly after, huddled in the kitchen. Again, he asked if either of them knew where you were.

“She’s in her room, she went up before dinner,” Ororo answered.

“No, she’s not. And her purse is gone.”

Both women turned to each other with the same worried expression.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Having tried your cellphone about thirteen times from just about everybody’s phones, they all decided they had to tell Charles. He used his ability to connect with every mutant on the planet to try and locate you, visualizing with his eyes closed. Everyone stood in his study, anxiously awaiting his conclusion. After a moment of silence, he started to silently chuckle to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asked immediately, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’m afraid you all have your work cut out for you,” he replied, finally opening his eyes.

“So, where is she?” Ororo asked, worry in her voice.

“There is a club called The Nightcrawler - “ Charles began to explain, but Logan interjected impatiently.

“Club? What, like a book club?” He nearly scoffed. There was no way you were at some sleazy nightclub in the city. You were a homebody and an introvert, neither of which made clubbing enjoyable.

“Maybe we should just let her have fun,” Jean began to say, but Logan was already halfway out the door.

Uncharacteristically, you found yourself dressed to the nines in the middle of a dance floor full of people. You’d spent a while trying outfits in your room, searching for something you could actually wear out that wasn’t sweatpants and a hoodie. You’d settled on a halter top that tied at your neck and in the back and a pair of ridiculously tight pants that you’d bought forever ago and never had the guts to wear. You ended up standing in front of the mirror, choosing a pair of very cute but very uncomfortable shoes and looking over the outfit. If you weren’t Logan’s ‘type of girl’, you sure as hell were somebody’s. Trying to get yourself out there may be the best solution to forgetting the heart-crushing infatuation you had with your best friend who would never see you as anything more.

“I feel ridiculous,” you chuckled to yourself, turning in the mirror to see the back of your outfit. You did look good, just super out of your comfort zone. You grabbed your bag and ended up slipping out when everyone was eating dinner. That’s how you ended up where you were, pushing your way through the crowd of people with a drink in your hand. You passed the raised lounge area and felt a hand on your shoulder, making you turn suddenly.

“Hey, you wanna dance?”

He was tall, leaning down a little to shout over the music. He was pretty good looking but didn’t look like Logan in the slightest, which you realized was exactly the point of going out tonight. He was dressed nice and smelled like expensive cologne.

“Sure, why not?”

As you abandoned your half finished drink on a table and let him pull you a little further into him, a familiar song started to thump through the speakers.

“I love this song!” You exclaimed, letting the nameless guy rest his hands on your hips.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

“Ironic,” you muttered under the music.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan walked ahead of Ororo, Jean and Scott, his long legs taking him much further at a much faster pace.

“Logan, slow down!” Ororo called out, jogging a bit to catch up with him.

“What if she didn’t even want to be there? What if some guy dragged her there?”

“Oh,” Jean laughed, “ I see. You’re jealous.”

“No.”

“Yup.”

“Nope.”

“So you’d be fine if we walked in there and she is with a guy?”

Logan slowed his pace as they approached the entrance, “sure, whatever,” feigned disdain in his voice.

The second the door opened, the bass of the music was overwhelming. It was dim, save for a few colorful lights projecting around the room. The four of them were squished together near the door, trying to pick you out in a sea of moving people.

“This is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack,” Scott shouted.

“Not necessarily,” Ororo replied, a smug smile on her face.

“What?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows.

She pointed across the room and he followed her gaze.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Open up and set it free

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

You didn’t even look like you. He’d never seen you in anything that showed that much skin or any clothes that even hugged you like that, for that matter.

And you were with a guy.

Sitting across a bar, staring right at her prey

It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way

“So, what did we tell you?” Jean shouted, waving her hand in front of his glaring eyes.

“Just some kid,” he replied dismissively, turning to her, “doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

“You sure?” Scott nudged his shoulder, making Logan look towards you again.

That kid had his hands up the sides of your top with his head craned down to kiss your neck, your back to his chest. You were giggling, playfully smacking his arm. Truthfully, you thought the attention was nice for a change. After trying so hard for too long to get Logan to notice you, it felt good to have someone pay attention to you in that way.

Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys

I just want to enjoy

By having a very good time

And behave very bad in the arms of a boy

You felt his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, enough for his nails to dig into your skin. Out of instinct, you felt your canine teeth start to poke against your lower lip. You tried in vain to tug his hands from you, only making him tighten his grip.

The switch in demeanor was obvious even from across the dark room, your smile turning into a grimace that bared your sharp teeth. You yanked the sleeves of his jacket to make him finally let go, turning around while he still had his arms ghosted around you.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

“Touch me like that again, you son of a bitch, and I will rip you to fucking shreds.”

You gathered fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him down to eye level so he could see your snarling teeth and gleaming eyes as a hint that you weren’t bluffing.

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

Before anyone could even tell him to stay put, Logan had already disappeared into the crowd of people.

“God damn it,” Scott huffed, following Jean and Ororo when they went after him.

“Logan!” Jean yelled, trying to grab his jacket to slow him and only having him slip out of her grip.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Let it out so it can breathe

“Shit, I’m kinda into the fangs. What, you gonna bite me?” He was whispering in your ear, your hands still on his shirt. Before you could do something you were going to regret, you felt someone tug your upper arm and pull you away from him.

“Come on,” Logan snapped, “we’re leaving.”

“What the hell are you doing here? What do you mean we?” You yelled back. You didn’t want to stay anywhere near that guy but you weren’t ready to leave either and sure as hell not with Logan dragging you out like an angry parent.

“Hey, she doesn’t really look like she wants to leave with you, man,” the other guy interjected, keeping a grip on you by looping his fingers through one of the belt loops on your pants.

“Yeah? She doesn’t want to stay with you either, jackass,” Logan moved his hand from your arm to hold your hand instead, “she’s not interested.”

What the hell had gotten into him? You felt like you were in the middle of a tug of war with two dogs.

“No one’s gonna fucking ask what I want, right?” You tried to complain, neither of them hearing you.

“Your little doggy girlfriend here was just about to take care of me. You mad about it?” The other guy laughed and you nearly lunged at him, Logan’s hand tugging you back. He intended to pull you away so he could get to him first, but Scott, Jean and Ororo jumped in just in time.

“Alright - enough, enough, we’re leaving!” Jean yelled, pushing you all towards the door, Logan dragging you the whole way. When you finally were out in the cool evening air, you angrily yanked your hand from his.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, turning to Logan, “and what the fuck was that?”

“What was that? You’re welcome - “

“I didn’t ask you to come save me - from what, having a good time?”

“Oh, yeah, it looked like you were having a lot of fun,” he scoffed, “he had you by the hip so hard he probably left a bruise.”

He instinctively reached his hand out to check and you swatted it away, “Don’t - Don’t touch me!”

None of them had ever heard you sound so pissed off and you’d definitely never snapped at Logan like that before.

You took a deep breath and reached down to slip off your shoes, leaving you barefoot on the concrete.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized to the rest of them,” but why are you guys here?”

“You left without saying anything, we couldn’t find you and we wanted to be sure you were safe,” Ororo sighed, hugging you in relief, “we’re so glad you’re okay.”

You hugged her back.

“I just - I wanted to disappear for a while,” you explained apologetically, avoiding Jean and Scott’s gaze.

“Do you know how stupid it was to run off and not tell anyone where you were going?” Logan scolded you, but Jean clicked her tongue at him.

“Shut it! Enough from you! You’ve done enough damage control!”

The ride home was almost silent, your tired body slumped in the backseat between Scott and Jean, until Ororo spoke from the front passenger seat.

“Honey, I don’t mean this in a bad way, but,” she paused, thinking over her words, “what were you gonna do to that guy if we hadn’t stopped you?”

You understood what she meant immediately.

“What, you think I was going to kill him?” you asked, crossing your arms and leaning forward in your seat, “I wasn’t. I don’t do that unless I have to and you know even then I hate doing it.”

“I know…so, what were you doing with a guy like him anyway?” she asked, trying to move on from the question that had clearly made you upset, “he seemed kinda shady.”

Logan was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white, dreading the answer.

You shrugged your shoulders, staring at the synthetic fabric of your pants.

“Liked the attention, I guess,” you answered honestly, kind of hoping you could throw anyone off the idea of you being interested in Logan, “it’s been awhile since a guy has liked me like that.”

“He only wanted one thing from you anyway,” he scoffed from the front seat. Ororo glared at him, about to tell him to mind his business before you stopped her.

“And I can’t want it either?”

That shut everybody up and Ororo turned to him again, a look on her face that said ‘you asked, you got the answer’.

You tried to bolt to your room when you all got home but Logan was quick to follow, catching up with you to stand in your path in the hallway outside of your bedroom.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Leave me be.”

You tried to dodge around him but he stuck his arm out.

“Logan.”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue speaking.

“Move.”

“I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what’s going on with you. You don’t disappear like that, ever. And I wanna talk to you about last night - “

“There’s nothing to talk about. Goodnight,” you huffed, ducking under his arm and opening your door.

“I care about you, you know, I was worried,” he began to explain.

You tried to slam the door in his face but he stuck his foot out, jamming his boot between the door and the doorframe. You let go in defeat and turned away, gathering your pajamas as if he wasn’t in the room.

“Yeah? Why?,” you scoffed, trying with everything in you to bite your tongue but failing miserably, “I’m not your type of girl. What’s there to worry about?”

Logan’s face fell. He pushed the door closed behind him.

“Is that what this is about? That’s why you went out?”

“Why do you care?”

You still had your back to him, furiously shuffling through clothing in your dresser.

“Stop.”

You felt his hands on your arms as he came up behind you, paralyzing you in your spot.

You let him turn you around gently, almost chest to chest.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings -“

“I’m not.”

He leaned back a little to force you to look him in the eye.

“I only said that - listen, I only said that because - “ Logan paused, biting his lip till it nearly bled, but you shook your head and slipped by him again.

“Please, don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Logan.”

You sounded so exasperated, tears forming in your eyes when you turned your back to him.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “I only said that because I didn’t want you to like me.”

You wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek and turned back to him, a confused expression on your face.

“It worked, are you happy?”

“No, I’m not - “

“Well, guess it backfired. Get out of my room.”

You were face to face again, keeping your mouth in a tight line so your lip wouldn’t quiver. It felt stupid to cry in front of him, but you couldn’t really help it once it started.

“Oh, god, please, don’t cry,” he begged, leaning down and actually bringing a hand up to your face to wipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek. You wanted to smack it away, tell him again to just get the hell out , but you couldn’t.

“Why would you do that?” You mumbled out quietly, finally letting the overwhelming feeling of sadness cancel out any rage you had for him. You couldn’t look him in the eye again, concentrating on the throw rug you were standing on.

“I’m so sorry, princess, I am. I’m really fucking stupid,” he huffed.

You were surprised by the softness of his voice and finally tore your eyes from the floor. He’d called you that before, but usually in a teasing way. This time it sounded endearing, like a plea of your name.

“And what happened there, at the club? ‘She’s not interested’, what was that about?” You continued.

He sighed, still trying to figure out what exactly it was that he wanted to say. He realized there probably wasn’t much of a way to beat around the bush and he groaned, closing his eyes as he stood in front of you to make spilling his guts a little less agonizing.

“I like you - like you a lot, and I was an asshole because I figured if you hated me, you couldn’t like me back and it would save you the trouble.”

Hearing no response, he finally opened his eyes to see you still standing in the same spot, your lips parted.

“Save me the trouble of what?”

You were confused, your eyes narrowed as if you were angry.

“I don’t know…having to deal with me, I guess. I - I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else and it scares the shit out of me.”

You could hear him swallow hard, his eyes looking everywhere around the room except at you.

“And earlier, when we picked you up,” he continued, “I acted like that because I was jealous, alright? Can’t stand to see some asshole on you like that, and you were dressed all nice and - I don’t know.”

You’d never heard him sound so nervous in all the time you’d known him.

“You are my type of girl,” he finally choked out, “only type of girl I’d ever want.”

All you could do was inhale sharply, his words echoing in your mind.

“It’s alright if you hate me, I can’t say I really blame you. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He began to walk out, convinced he’d fucked up beyond repair.

“Logan.”

Your voice stopped his hand from turning your doorknob and he turned back to you.

No longer crying, you tentatively stepped forward a bit, nervously playing with the front hem of your top.

“You’re not something to deal with, you know,” you muttered, letting your hair fall in front of your face.

You supposed this was the point where it was your turn to explain.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Logan, probably since the day I walked in here and I just - I think I wanted someone to distract me so I wouldn’t wallow in self pity because you didn’t want me.”

“You were trying to get over me,” he realized aloud, a small smile on his face to hide the hurt, “I deserved that.”

After a moment of tense silence, he spoke again.

“Did it work?”

His voice was low and soft, a tone you’d rarely heard him speak with.

You pursed your lips and finally lifted your head, taking a deep breath.

“No. I don’t think it was ever going to, either,” you laughed a little, “when that guy asked me to dance, the first thing I thought of was that he didn’t look anything like you.”

Your voice trailed off a little at the end, a little embarrassed to confess that even if Logan had already flat out told you he was interested in you.

Without another word, he came close enough to reach for your hands and gently intertwine your fingers with his. He cleared his throat, nervously chewing his bottom lip before he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?”

You must have had this dream a million times over, waking up night after night and feeling so empty because none of it was real. But now, with his hands in yours, it was very real.

You eagerly pressed your lips to his, not wanting to waste another second. His lips were soft and you were encompassed in the scent of his body wash and cologne, smelling of pine and cedar wood. You brought your hands up to play with his hair at the back of his head. Logan moved his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him.

When you finally pulled away from each other, you were both smiling like idiots.

“We should’ve done that much sooner,” you giggled.

“Agreed.”

His fingers traced small circles on the exposed skin of your back, making you shiver.

He kissed you again, this time with much more intensity. It wasn’t long before your tongues were in each other's mouths and you both had fumbled yourselves over to the end of your bed.

“Wanted you for so long,” he mumbled between kissing your neck and jaw, his hands still sliding up and down your back, “I was so stupid.”

“We both were,” you giggled a little, cut short into a moan when he licked your neck all the way from your collarbone to under your ear.

“L-Logan,” you gasped, unable to hide your blushing face.

He hummed into your neck, bringing his mouth to your ear, “Can I show you how sorry I am? Let me make it up to you.”

His voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you let him pull you onto him to straddle his lap, lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

“Mmm, uh-huh,” you hummed, mouth hung open as he sucked light marks into your neck.

“You have to use your words, pretty girl,” he brought his head up to rest his forehead against yours. He cupped your jaw tenderly, almost as if you’d disappear if he let go.

Before you could answer, he moved his hands to drag your hips over his, grunting when he felt the pressure.

“Y-yes, yeah - please,” you choked out between moans, tugging his hair harder every time he pushed and pulled your hips.

“Please what, baby?”

“You - you can make it up to me,” you groaned into his neck.

He effortlessly lifted you by your thighs and laid you with your back to the bed. You untucked his white t-shirt from his jeans as he crawled over you, desperate to get your hands underneath it. You lightly scratched your nails along his back, making him groan into your ear. He kissed down your neck to the center of your chest, gently slipping his fingers under the hem of your top and around the back.

“Can I take this off you, baby?”

You were already sitting up before he could finish his sentence, reaching to try and untie the knot at the back of your neck.

“Eager, huh?”, he chuckled, “let me, sweetheart.”

He wrapped his arms around your lower back to tug at the knot, feeling it come loose in his hands. He snaked his hands up to the back of your neck, doing the same to the tied strings there. When it came loose, the only thing holding the piece of fabric to you was his hands at the back of your neck. He let it slip from his fingers, a smirk on his face when it fell completely.

You threw the garment somewhere to the floor and tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, bringing him down with you as laid back again and pressed your lips to his. He pulled back for a moment to yank his shirt off and immediately return his mouth to yours, making his way down to your neck. He brought both his hands to your chest and swept his thumbs over your hard nipples, eventually bringing his lips to them and sucking.

“Ah - Logan,” you whined, making him smile against your skin.

“I like it when you say my name, pretty girl,” he mumbled, dragging his fingers down your sides and hooking them into the waistband of your pants. He kissed all the way down to your hips, moving himself to lay on his stomach with his head between your thighs.

Before he could ask you if it was alright to rid you of them, you were already unbuttoning your pants and pushing them down your hips and thighs. He took them off the rest of the way for you and you kicked your panties off with them.

He hooked his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, licking his lips and resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh.

“I thought about you a lot, you know - like this,” he huffed, his warm breath fanning over your pussy.

You had your hands in his hair already, swiping fallen strands of hair out of his face.

“I thought about you like this, too,” you admitted, sighing as he started to plant kisses right above where you wanted him the most.

“Yeah?”

His teasing voice brought goosebumps to your skin and you nodded, gasping when you finally felt his lips graze your clit.

“This what you think about when you fuck yourself?” He mumbled into you, the vibration of his voice making you tighten your grip in his hair. He growled like an animal, trying to push you even further into his mouth by the grip on your thighs.

You were trying to choke out an answer, distracted by the wet sounds of him messily eating you out.

“Y - ah, yes, yeah - not as good as the real thing, though.”

He laughed with his mouth still attached to you and you tightened your thighs around his head, keeping him in place.

He could have spent hours with his mouth to your cunt, practically fucking you with his tongue while you whined his name.

A knock on your door sounded through the room, the both of you freezing in place.

“Hey, I just wanted to check on you. Are you feeling okay?”

It was Scott.

You grimaced, thankful at the very least that your door was locked, but Logan had a terribly smug smirk on his face.

“Y-yeah, I’m alright, just - just tired,” you managed to choke out, stuttering when you felt two of his fingers slip into you effortlessly.

“You sure?”

You sighed, hating and loving Logan at the same time for what he was doing.

“Yup, th-thank you, m’ jus’ gonna go to bed.”

Scott responded with a goodnight and you groaned in relief when you heard him walk away.

Logan was curling his fingers inside of you, still lapping at your pussy and letting you use your grip on his hair to angle his head however you wanted him. You felt the pressure in your lower stomach rise and you tried to warn him, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.

“Logan, I’m - “

“C’mon, pretty girl, c’mon.”

His encouragement sent you over the edge, euphoria blooming from your lower stomach and spreading through you. You had to cover your mouth to muffle your pornographic moans, but Logan reached up to tug your wrist.

“Uh-uh, wanna hear you, beautiful,” he mumbled into you, practically pushing your thighs even further around his head.

“Fuck, L-Logan, too - too sensitive,” you stuttered out, trying to pull his face away by his hair and failing miserably because of his grip around your thighs.

He eventually reluctantly detached himself and crawled back on top of you, sucking the taste of you off his fingers.

“I could do that for hours, you know, if you let me,” he groaned, pulling your hips up to him so you could feel the weight of his hard cock underneath his jeans.

Still sensitive, you reactively gripped his biceps and dug your fingernails into his skin. You were going to apologize and were quickly cut off by the guttural moan he let out into the side of your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rocking his hips against yours.

“You’re into pain, huh?”

You figured it was your turn to tease him, dragging your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back.

“You’re gonna pay for that, pretty girl,” he grunted, moving quickly to undo his belt and strip himself of the rest of his clothing.

When his cock sprung up and hit his stomach as he took off his boxers, you swallowed hard; already feeling a wanting ache in your stomach again. You figured he was big - he was already a tall guy, after all - but he was far bigger than any guy you’d ever seen. Logan noticed the way you bit your lower lip, resting himself on top of you again and bringing his thumb up to pull your lip from under your teeth.

“What, are you nervous? It’s alright sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His voice was so soft and gentle, a tone you rarely ever heard from him.

You could feel the weight of his cock against your inner thigh, heavy and already leaking.

“ ‘m not nervous, I want you, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. You reached your hand between your bodies to line him up with your entrance, trying to push him in with your legs around his waist.

“You sure?” he huffed, trying with every muscle in his body to not slam into you in one thrust.

You nodded eagerly, scratching at his lower back.

Logan couldn’t help himself and gave in, slipping himself into you.

“So tight,” he groaned into your neck, pushing himself in even further.

“You - fuck - you’re so fucking big,” you admitted truthfully, nearly drooling at the feeling of him stretching you out.

“Feels good?”

It was hard for him to speak when you were so wet that he was nearly slipping out of you as he gently rocked his hips back and forth, trying to be gentle and let you adjust to his size.

“Mm - uh-uh,” you hummed, gasping each time he pushed further.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he huffed and you groaned, digging your nails into him.

“Y-yes, yeah - want you all the way in,” you whimpered.

That was all it took for him to be buried in you, grinding his hips into yours so that you were pinned to the mattress.

He worked up to a devastating pace, practically slamming your headboard into the wall.

“S-someone’s gonna - someone’s gonna hear us,” you managed to gasp out, out of breath every time he filled you and pulled back again.

“Don’t care, let ‘em,” he pressed his forehead to yours, bringing a hand up to your face to affectionately cup your cheek. It was so sweet and almost disgustingly hot, the caring gesture contrasting the intense feeling of him repeatedly slamming into the sensitive spot inside of you.

He really didn’t have a care in the world about who heard you both, far too lost in the feeling of finally being able to have you under him like that. You had sweat soaked strands of hair stuck to your face, your eyes squeezed shut, and he was almost sure you’d never looked more beautiful.

“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, his thumb swiping your bottom lip. He had an idea, one he’d considered many times when he thought of you under him like this.

“Bite me.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, threading your hand through his hair, “are you sure?”

“Please.”

You forcibly unsheathed your fangs, letting them tentatively poke at his thumb that was still to your lips.

He moved his hand to your throat, resting it there without tightening his grip.

“Please.”

His pleading had the heat in your lower stomach rising and you obliged, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. You felt guilty - you didn’t enjoy hurting people - until he was whimpering in your ear, moaning your name over and over again.

You bit his neck, his shoulders, his lip - all the small puncture wounds healing themselves within seconds.

Having him so pussy drunk and groaning praises into your ear brought the pressure in your lower stomach to a max and you cried out his name, letting him fuck you through your second orgasm.

“ ‘s good, huh, princess? Come on me, c’mon,” he was begging, feeling your muscles tense around him. That drove him over the edge, his hips rutting into you and his thrusts becoming sloppy. He finally let himself go, filling you and letting it drip from you onto the sheets. He pulled back a little to see the mess you had both made, your inner thighs painted with a mix of his release and yours. He went to pull out completely and you clamped your thighs around his hips again, keeping him still.

“Want me to stay?”

“Mhm - please.”

The sexual tension was replaced with loving comfort, Logan keeping you to his chest as he laid you both on your side. His chin rested on the top of your head and your face was against his chest with your eyes closed. You smiled at the thump of his heartbeat in your ear, nearly letting it put you to sleep.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he mumbled into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head, “you know I love you?”

The last three words made your eyes shoot open and you looked up at him, worried you’d misheard him or maybe he was just messing with you.

“Really?”

“Of course. You think I would’ve done that with you if I wasn’t in love?”

You thought hard for a second, realizing he was right. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had hookups before, but it had been quite a long time since he’d bothered to even get to know someone like that. He wasn’t the type to lead you on, either - always up front with you, even if he didn’t have to be.

“I love you too,” you answered, unable to hide the wide smile on your face.

“I should’ve told you much sooner,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as you snuggled into him again.

Before you could both fall asleep from exhaustion, he yanked the comforter over the both of you, hearing you mumble sleepily.

“You can make it up to me some more.”

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A/N: If you made it to the end I love you <3 pls lmk what you think and reblog+like if you enjoyed!! also still navigating how to write smut without using cringe terminology so forgive me if that part sucks

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine x reader #wolverine fic #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine smut #wolverine

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