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#not because it was her specifically i was just awkward and really wanted to make everyone like me since it was my first play
ghstmsk · 2 years
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Old vs new
#all of these characters needed redesigns but for various reasons#mostly being that its old art and my design senses and skill has changed since#rain may fall was picked because compared to the other characters in her story they just felt very plain#i also planned on only giving them a brown skintone and i wasnt gonna change their hair or anything#but than while i was microwaving food i randomly thought of them with darker skin and curly pink hair and i thought it was really cute#so i did it lol#salem is a design i was never happy with even when i originally drew him i was not happy with his design#particularly cause he looked very christmas-y#so i changed his palette making the green more yellowish and the red more orangeish and i think that worked out better#delta needed a redesign for the obvious reason of being art from 2019 also i felt they didnt seem vaporwave enough#and the way the umbrella cuts off in the art i did of them looksbadman#alastair and earlene also from 2019 but also i chose them specifically because i... i needed seperate images of them#its awkward to crop that old art for their character pages#bell taurus also just old art from 2019 doesnt even have arms cause i used to not always put arms on stickman drawings#elmo primarily cause i wanted to change his colors and make him look older as well as get rid of his horns and give him a skintone#his story (and salems) had some lore development since i drew him in 2019 so this better fits the lore#belat is another design i was never happy i spent a long time on his old design fiddling with it back and forth and hated it#i decided to make him a catboy and now he looks better#and esteem. my god esteem. i got lazy with their old design and i hated it. they needed the redesign the most#anyways done rambling
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kavehater · 2 months
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Do I have to start saying not that anyone would care in that super duper passive aggressive way to guilt people into caring or what
#dora daily#I’m so tired#the one thing I’ve consistently wanted since I was a kid was to be cared about and seen 😜#yet I can’t even seem to get that ☠️ I honest to god am so tired like every day is another futile attempt to try to engineer what I say#specifically for the purpose of me hoping someone ANYONE would care#how I used to be sick when I was younger because I saw that the kids who would get sick or would get sad would get sm care and love but#I was stupid because I didn’t account for the fact that when I was sick I had to just suck it up or when I was sad I need to stop being such#a crybaby and get over it#what if I say I’ve had enough of just being shamelessly used by others for me to comfort them through their problems#but I always have everything thrown back at my face because somehow when it’s my turn my problems are uncomfortable or awkward#I don’t have energy for a single thing yet I force myself to talk to at least one person and trying to fix my relationship with just#literally talking it shouldn’t be that hard but I feel so worthless that even speech is impossible and makes me feel like I will literally#die. it’s been working kinda but now I just can’t help but feel so sick to my stomach about all this my head hurts really bad and I’m trying#not to cry and trying my hardest to make peace with the fact that in truth nobody will ever like me enough to care at all ever#not my mum not my dad or my siblings and certainly not my friends either#I’m so tired of always begging and pleading for someone to just notice I’m here too#or maybe it’s specific people#it’s so cruel to say all those overly nice things to me and not act on them#why else was I so psychotic about that girl ? obviously because she would shower me with the nicest things I’ve ever heard#but she says that to everyone she’s not consistent with me and we aren’t really friends#ik it wasn’t her intention but it doesn’t change the fact I have wanted to and I’m not even over exaggerating but actually off myself#because this is just proof I’m around to serve people’s dirty work and clean messes when I can’t even stand on my two feet anyways#isn’t it so stupid I’m just talking to myself here and most likely nobody will ever see it meaning this was just useless yet again#and the fact i can’t be free ever nor can i do anything about this to permanently end things because i am a coward and because the worst#part is that even after death I shall be tormented anyways#and let’s say I somehow survive an attempt I will literally be scarred for life and then I’d rlly want to be dead#it’s the way not even death can be a solace for this because there would only be more torture#I can’t leave this religion because leaving won’t change the truth but I’m so tired and worn thin of every single responsibility in my life#even tho I don’t have much the few I do have feel excruciating#life is too much and death is worse so why couldn’t my mum who’s strong willed said no to my dads family and not gotten married period 🧍��♀️
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fragmentedblade · 7 months
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I care about the Bloodhound Family Member blocking our way more than about Firefly, ngl. He seems so honest and principled, and he feels awful for bothering us while trying desperately to get ahold of the little dignity he feels he has. He says he'll die trying because he has nothing left to lose, and here I am, manipulating his emotions only to get this shady liar to her "secret base" like she is an eight years old that has watched too many cartoons.
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nereidprinc3ss · 5 months
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hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…
you do you for the rest!
in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.
warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love
a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!
It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied. 
Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details. 
A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name. 
“You in there?”
The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”
“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”
You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror. 
“Actually—could you come in here?”
There’s a pause. 
“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”
“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”
The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it. 
“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort. 
“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”
He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.
“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is. 
“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.
“What?”
“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”
His nose scrunches.
Some might say it scrunches adorably. 
“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”
“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”
He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing. 
“My face freaks you out?”
“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—” 
You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face. 
Oh. He was fucking with you. 
He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer. 
“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.  
“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”
And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.
“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.
For some reason, this offends you. 
“Why not?”
Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.  
“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies. 
“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”
“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”
“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”
Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly. 
“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”
The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic. 
“Well—”
Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you. 
“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”
As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room. 
“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”
His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder. 
“That’s what it’s called.”
“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”
“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back. 
“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”
“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”
“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately. 
“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”
“See? How hard was that?”
“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”
“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.
“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”
With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin. 
“I can’t—”
“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”
So you do, watching his reflection as he works.
And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are. 
“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer. 
“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”
Something aches in the pit of your stomach. 
Something resembling jealousy. 
It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid. 
Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you. 
You swallow and try to act like yourself. 
“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”
“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”
Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see. 
“A great colleague would kiss it better.”
“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”
You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.  
“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”
He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in. 
“H—woah.”
“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively. 
“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place. 
“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”
“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable. 
“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”
“Shut up! You love it!”
His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job. 
You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring. 
“What?”
“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”
“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it. 
“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”
You frown. 
She makes a good point. 
Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail. 
It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut. 
When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer. 
On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl. 
I would never report you to HR beautiful
That would be a stab in the back!
You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen. 
When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.
Funny. 
Maybe that is the right word for what you two are. 
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gay-dorito-dust · 3 months
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Benji Blackwood fic idea: apparently he’s a shy, honourable nobleman but an absolute unhinged feral warrior in battle. I can just imagine him being super sweet with his spouse but unleashing hell to the people that hurt her?
I live for protective characters ahaha
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Taglist: @pearldaisy
You didn’t know what to think of Benjicot Blackwood, you really didn’t. All you knew of the man was the stories told of how much of a rabid dog he was in the heat of battle, that the moment he gets going he’s an ruthless and unstoppable force who smiled in the face of death.
The definition of a monster on the battlefield.
So when you finally met him you were confused, for Benjicot was anything unlike the terrifying man in the stories you’ve been told, but an awkward and somewhat shy man who’s kind smile had you feeling a light floating sensation within your chest. Benjicot Blackwood had to be the sweetest, most kindest nobleman you have ever had the pleasure to meet in the Riverlands. It also didn’t help that he was a handsome man on top of that too, with his beautiful eyes and well structured face, which helped somewhat but wasn’t the most important thing to you in any regard and merely an added attribute.
‘I had a feeling your feet would have you wandered off here.’ He says with a smile that reached his eyes before making himself at home by taking up the space beside you.
‘And a good morrow to you my lord.’ You greet him as you press a soft kiss to his cheek, making your head comfortable against his shoulder, glad that it was him who had found you rather than some wandering stranger. Ben sighs as he feels himself relax beneath your sweet affection, resting his head atop of yours as his hand reaches to intertwined with yours, a reminder that this was real and that you were real because to Ben you felt more of a dream then anything on most days and he didn’t wish to wake from this dream if it meant being by your side. ‘How many times have I told you to just call me Ben.’ Ben asks you softly, pressing a kiss to your head, already knowing the answer but just wanted an excuse to hear your voice.
You shifted to look him in the eyes and smile. ‘Too many to count?’
‘Too many to count indeed.’ Ben echoed in a lighthearted tone. ‘I swear you do this just to provoke me my darling.’ He adds as he looks at you just as the light catches his eye from between the leaves of the tree you sought shade under, making him appear more beautiful than he already was as you felt his calloused hand gently caress the back of your hand. It was strange, knowing that the man of the many stories and had the rough hands that further proved those stories of his unkept rage in battle true, could ever hold something or someone as gently and as softly as he did you.
You kiss his cheek again, finding it increasingly difficult to not grasp his face and kiss him on those plush lips of his, your silently cursed Ben for making you feel like that as you found yourself pressed further into his side, looking at him as though he had hung the stars in the sky in your honour. ‘Why would you say such a thing my lord?’ You said innocently enough but the spark of desire within Ben’s eyes were evident as he moved to rest his head against yours while he whispers huskily.
‘For you are well aware enough of the effect it has over me when it’s coming from your lips specifically.’
Before you could say anything in response a group of Brackens had came out of seemingly nowhere, snickering, and the sweet Benjicot Blackwood you had come to fall for was pushed aside for the man you’ve heard tales of as he moved to stand up in response of seeing his house rival.
‘Mind fucking off back home Bracken.’ Ben practically spat the name as though it were poison in his mouth.
‘Why? So you and your little beloved can have a little moment of privacy?’ The man in Bracken house colours said humourlessly as he looked over Ben’s shoulder to look at you. ‘Why ain’t you a pretty thing, Blackwood here is lucky to have you warm his bed I’m sure of it.’ You fought back the urge to smack the vile looking grin off of his face that brought forth a rage you didn’t know you had.
Ben must’ve felt your anger from where he stood as he moved himself so that he was in the Bracken’s line of sight, staring him down with a glare that contrasted the softness that was seemingly only reserved for your eyes only, or anyone that wasn’t a Bracken that was. ‘Keep my lady’s name out your fucking mouth.’ He seethed, jaw tense as his clenched his fists, readying himself for the inevitable fight that was about to come.
The dirty blonde haired man looked at Ben as though asking with his eyes if he was being serious and almost burst out laughing when he saw the look of pure rage encompass his entire face. ‘Oh, oh you’re being serious? Is Blackwood getting mad that his lady might have wandering eyes?’ Ben took a sharp inhale at the thought of this cunt being anywhere near you, his most dearest. The man was trying to get under his skin and he was succeeding, he knew he was in the way Ben looked more and more like a man on the verge of snapping.
Testing his luck, the dirty blonde from house Bracken took a step closer towards Ben but before his foot could touch ground or his words leave his mouth, Ben already had him tackled to the ground within a heartbeat and punching the absolute shit out of him; all the while as his little friends ran away scared that they’d be next in line, uncaring that their leader was pleading for them to help him.
The fight was severely on sided from what you could see, Ben had already broken the man’s nose and his knuckles were bruised, but in the midst of the all the adrenaline he was feeling in that moment the pain was forgotten as he kept punching the dirty blonde Bracken with the foul mouth, only until he was satisfied with his work and that the Bracken was rendered unconscious.
You didn’t move or say anything as Ben stood over the beaten and bloodied man with a crazed look in his eye, unsure of how to feel, before he looking back at you with that softness and care you came to adore. ‘Are you okay?’ He asks. It wasn’t until now did you see that the Bracken did manage to clip Ben on the mouth with something sharp, causing it to spit the skin and made him bleed, but you couldn’t help but find the sight of Ben in the aftermath of a fight oddly attractive; his chest was heaving, his hair disheveled and his knuckles both bruised and bloodied.
Your silence didn’t sit right with Ben as his brows furrowed and a lump in his throat formed as he crossed over to you, holding your face in his hands, snapping you out of your daze as you found yourself distributing your face between his beautiful eyes and his busted lip. ‘I didn’t scare you did I?’ He asks, worried of what you’ll say but when you placed your hands over his own, keeping him there as a soft smile graced your lips.
‘Scared? No, oh my gods no Benjicot, you didn’t scare me.’ You reassured him, looking him over in pride and utter adoration, ‘my god you’re anything but scary, my darling you are simply Devine.’ You add sincerely and that was enough for Ben to press his lips to yours despite the cut, licking at your lower lip to deepen the kiss as you happily complied, melting into him as he held you protectively in his arms where nothing could bring you harm.
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reiderwriter · 5 months
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So obviously Spencer is iconic for his wide range of haircuts over the show, and I have this vision of a Spencer x hairdresser fic where he goes to the same hairdresser all the time because he likes the routine and it’s what he’s used to. So like they’re low-key friends bc he’s been her client so long, but then she notices he can’t come as usual and he tells her it’s because he’s always away or working late. So because they’re close she gives him private late appointments after she closes bc they’re more accessible for him, and then they’re always together late at night, and eventually they fall for each other!! And like she loves his curls and cringed when he wanted it cut short but loves it regardless AHH I JUST LOVE IT. Bonus points if Spencer gets to recommend his hairdresser girlfriend to his teammates just to brag about the fact he has a hot girlfriend lmao. I get it’s kinda long lol, if it’s too long a premise then no worries, just sharing it is nice :)
A/N: Hi! I love the idea of hair stylist reader, so I had a lot of fun writing this~♡ Thank you for your request, I hope you enjoy it!
W/C: 2.1k
Warnings: implied Autistic Reid, brief mentions of sensory issues, writer does not care for the shows Canon hair continuity and does basically whatever she wants.
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The first time you'd met Spencer Reid, you hadn't been able to cut his hair. Which was a damn shame because it really did need cutting. 
Sweeping up the floors of the hair salon you worked at, you had noticed the man lingering outside, wringing his hands together and pushing them awkwardly through his hair, approaching and retreating every few seconds. 
You watched him through the mirrors, and let him dance around like that for five minutes before deciding that the evening breeze would be a boon during the hot summer night that was about to set in on you. 
Opening the salon door, you stepped outside and soaked in the fresh air before turning to the now frozen, slightly awkward man. 
“Can I help you?” You tried to put a welcoming smile on your face, but the salon was past closing and empty beside you. You should've been heading home by now, but something in the man's posture had you dawdling.
“The barber shop down the road closed down,” he said quickly, as if the words were practised on his to guess moments before. 
“Yes, that's true. It's been six months now.”
“Six months?” he squeaked out, running a hand through his hair as he turned inwards. 
“Do you… need a haircut?” 
“Yes. Yes, are there any other barber shops in the area?” 
You rolled your eyes and walked back into the salon, picking up a robe and a shoulder cover and spinning around the closest chair to welcome him. 
“Well, are you coming in?” 
“But you're closed. Your sign says you're closed.” 
“And I'm still here, aren't I?” 
He didn't argue any further and hesitantly stepped into the salon. 
You helped him out of his bag and put it away before helping him into the robe and shoulder pad. 
He awkwardly stood around as you prepared your scissors and station again, switching on the mirror light so you could fully see his face and hair. 
And damn was he attractive. As you smoothed his hair out of his face, you were met with warm brown eyes, open and anxious, like a deer caught in headlights. Or, more accurately, a dear caught in a hair salon. 
You had to blink and look away as you remembered what you were about, standing up and leading him over to the sink. 
“I'm… I'm a little bit sensitive about my hair,” he admitted quite meekly as you tested the temperature of the water. 
“Okay. Is there anything specific?” 
He sat himself in the chair but didn't lower his head to the bowl, so you waited. 
After a minute or two, he gently lowered his head to the bowl, and you helped his progress, making sure he was comfortably settled. He didn't speak, just let his shoulders relax and closed his eyes as you turned the water on his locks. 
You enjoyed the simple repetitions of your job. Everyone's hair was different, that was true, but there were really only so many ways to wash hair. 
You rinsed his hair thoroughly, keeping the water away from his face and ears with a face guard before beginning to lather it up. 
For a man who hadn't seen the inside of a salon in six months and likely a hairbrush in the same length of time, his hair was healthy. 
De-tangling as you went, you ran your hands through the lengths of his hair, taking note of how it fell, which parts were healthy, and which had developed split ends. Then you began massaging his head, working the shampoo into his roots, making sure his scalp was free from any possible dirt or dry skin. 
This was the best part of the haircut for you, and you knew your regular clients enjoyed it greatly as well. Which is why you probably shouldn't have been too surprised when the man fell asleep. 
It took you a few minutes to realize that was what happened, the face guard obscuring his face from your vision. When you squeezed the water from his hair, patted it dry, and twisted it into a towel so the water wouldn't run down his back, you had no clue that he was away with the fairies. 
It wasn't until you asked him to stand, and he didn't even move that you moved around the sink and lifted the face guard. 
If he seemed anxious awake, it had melted away now. He looked younger asleep, more calm and confident somehow. His eyelashes were long, a fact you only noticed when you leaned in to get a better look at him. 
It was your hand unconsciously tracing a hand along his jaw that woke him back up, and for a second, you just stared at each other, faces inches apart. 
“I'm.. I'm so sorry, I should go. Thank you for… I should go,” he said hurriedly, pulling the robes and towels off and snatching his bag up, running out the door. 
“Wait, your hair,” you called after him, but he was gone. 
And he hadn't paid. 
It took a week for you to collect the payment, though you couldn't care less about the money anyway. 
But a week thinking about the man's delicate features, his shy smile and stutter, and you were very distracted. 
Thinking about him had become your full-time job, as much as cutting hair had, and you'd had a few close encounters with the scissors when you were lost in thought. 
You'd been thinking up back stories for the man ranging from the romantic to the obscure to the downright realistic. So, a week later, you found yourself behind on work and needing to stay late, just as he stepped into the shop a second time. 
“Hello?” You shouted from the backroom, hearing the doorbell jingle as it opened. “We're actually closed right now, so- oh.” 
He stood awkwardly in the door, his face already flushed slightly. 
“Hi.” 
“Hi,” you said, trying to stop the grin spreading across your face. You didn't want to scare him off a second time. 
“Last time, I… kinda ran away. I was… I'm not the best with-” 
“With haircuts?” 
“With change.” You both nodded at that, awkwardly staring at each other. 
“So…?” You lead, trying to encourage him to introduce himself, hoping he would reveal something you didn't already know. 
“You're closed again, but could you cut my hair?” He asked, pushing the long locks back on his head as he stood a little taller. 
“It would be my pleasure…” you trailed off as a question, needing to know his name. 
“Spencer. Spencer Reid. Doctor… just Spencer is fine if you'd prefer.” 
“I'm Y/N. Come and take a seat.” 
You slid him into the robes once again and got through a hair wash without any accidental naps this time. Though you did notice that he seemed to be enjoying it just as much. 
His sighs left you feeling hot, your heart beating as you focused on his hair to draw your gaze from his lips. 
When he was back I'm front of the mirror, he again looked like a scared cat that had been backed into the corner. 
“So, what'll it be, Spencer?” You asked cheerily, combing your hand through his locks to detangle them. 
“Hmm? Oh, a water would be nice.” 
“For your hair, Spencer. What haircut do you want?” 
“Oh! Oh, um, just a…just a haircut.” 
Your face scrunched up in confusion as he doubled down. 
“But what kind of haircut?” 
“What kind?” 
You pulled away from his chair for a minute and went to grab a cut reference book. 
“Okay, so we've got undercuts, or trims, I can do pompadour or bowl cut or-” 
You looked at Spencer's face again and saw that he looked more than confused. 
“How about I just cut your hair and after you tell me if you like it or not?” 
He nodded and gave you a weak smile as you grabbed your scissors. 
Twenty minutes of silence later, and you felt Spencer exhale in relief as you dusted off the back of his neck and pulled the robes off of his clothes. 
You'd gone for a shorter cut, but his curly hair had such a nice natural texture that you left it a bit longer on top. Without his hair in his face, his jawline was sharper, his eyes brighter, and you were somehow more infatuated. 
He stood up shyly and you smiled at how good he looked. 
“Okay, perfect! Let me just-” You lifted your hand and smoothed out some of his hair, picking up some strands and pushing them back and forth until it was just right. 
He caught your hand just as you were about to pull away, and you suddenly realized how close he was. Or more accurately how close you had gotten. It was like you were breathing the same air. 
“D-Do you like it?” You asked, voice small and high as it battled your heartbeat to be heard. 
“Yeah. I like it. It looks… it looks like a haircut.” 
You giggled as his grip became gentler, and your hand fell down to your side, brushing his chest gently as it descended. 
“How much do I owe you?” He asked, and you led him over to the register to complete the payment. 
“Thank you,” he said as he grabbed his bags to head out the door. 
“Just doing my job. I'll see you in six weeks,” you said, waving him off. 
“What for?” He asked, voice confused but bright. He sounded almost hopeful. 
“For your next haircut, Spencer.” 
He smiled and waved back as he walked back into the dark and disappeared down the street. 
No one could ever accuse Spencer Reid of being forgetful, and six weeks later, he was back in your chair. 
Except he didn't arrive at 11pm this time, but instead 11am. 
The other customers and stylists gawked at the man as he walked in, and you thanked the gods that your seat was free as he met your eyes. 
“Hi.” 
“Spencer! You're back.” 
He nodded shyly, head hanging a little as he ignored the many looks from the women in the room and the eruption of whispers and loud glances in his direction. 
“It's been six weeks. You said that's when I'd need another haircut.” 
You laughed a little as you pulled the robe around him. 
“You know, I say that every time, but most people ignore me. I love a man who can follow directions.” 
The eruption of red on his cheeks left you feeling suddenly tongue tied, and you carefully redirected the conversation back to the task at hand. 
“Same again, Doc?” You asked, readying your spray bottle and supplies. 
“Actually, could we, ah, go shorter this time?” Hesmiled sheepishly and watched as you ran your fingers through his tangled hair. 
“My boss, last time, said I looked like I joined a boyband, so…” 
“Your boss at the hospital?” You asked, clinging to every detail you could get from him. 
“The hospital?” 
“You said you were a Doctor, do you work in a lab instead or-”
“Oh. No, I work at the FBI. I'm not a medical doctor, I have a PhD. I have three, Chemistry, Engineering, and Mathematics.” 
You whistled. “Impressive. You can't be older than 30.” 
“I'm 29.” He said, smiling at you in the mirror, and you smiled back, hands still running through his hair. 
“So, no boy band haircuts, okay. For what it's worth, though, you look totally hot.” 
The words cut the conversation short, and you tried your best to take the words back as you went off to the sides to grab your sheers. 
Half an hour later, and you could swear that half the salon had given up pretending to be doing their jobs and were just awkwardly ogling the man. If the shorter “boyband” hair was good, the undercut you'd done for him was even better. 
You turned him around to get a closer look, using the excuse of making sure his hair was symmetrical enough to stare at him some more as you got closer to finishing. 
“Okay,” you said with a sad sigh. “You're all finished, Spencer. Let's get you rung up.” 
He nodded and followed you quickly, pulling out his wallet as he paid quietly. 
“Okay. And I'll see you tomorrow,” you said, as he picked up his bags to leave. 
“Tomorrow? I thought you said it was six weeks between haircuts.” 
“It is. But it's also my day off tomorrow, so I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner. With me.” 
He blinked at you once. Then twice, and another time before smiling and looking away. 
“Okay. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” 
He ran a hand through his hair and nearly walked into the door he was trying to walk through, but your heart still fluttered as you waved him out. 
2K notes · View notes
seospicybin · 8 days
Text
I DARE YOU.
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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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tsxkkis · 7 months
Text
# tsukishima kei - drunk in love!
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a/n = is this a comeback of mine of sorts? yes (although i don't want it to be, since it's not my best work). i haven't written anything in so long, and i really love the idea of a stoic, serious character acting clingy and completely different when drunk (reminds me of shin from a sign of affection, who's my fav boy ever), that's why tsukki might be kind of out of character here. also, i didn't proofread this because it ended up being longer than i expected.
summary = an intoxicated tsukishima is a clingy tsukishima. and also, he might say a bit too much for his own liking.
warnings = out of character tsukki (bcs he's drunk), mentions of alcohol
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drunk tsukishima was surely a sight to see.
to see a man, usually so serious and stoic, in a state like that was almost uncanny. his cheeks flushed pink, a stupid smile plastered to his face as he giggled quietly over what yamaguchi just said.
after your entire friend group went their own ways either starting university or pursuing a career in volleyball, it became a common practice for the few of you to just meet up and discuss the latest life achievements with a drink in hand. everyone eagerly awaited that particular moment of the week, some (meaning yachi, of course) would even set weekly countdowns to try and surpass their excitement.
tsukishima kei, out of the entire group, was usually the more reasonable one, opting only for a drink or two. But after a particularly hard exam at uni, which he passed with flying colors, his friends decided in unison that this evening would be different.
the room was filled with laughter, tsukishima's tall body laying on the couch, his head pressed against yamaguchi's chest. alcohol made him somewhat clingy; extremely clingy, if you were to compare him to his usual demeanor. a low hum left his lips, his hand coming up to take his glasses off.
'i'm gonna regret this tomorrow.' he mumbled, being met with a wave of laughter in response. your eyes focused on his face for a minute, scanning it thoroughly. continued mumbling something, the tips of his ears bright red, face probably burning after all the alcohol he digested. but your mind was focused on something completely different.
he looks really handsome without glasses.
'y/n. i think he might have to stay here for the night.' yamaguchi's voice echoing through the room brought you back to life, your eyes quickly darting away from the blonde's face to focus on her friend. the freckled boy had an awkward look on his face, a usual for him, as he stood up, heading for his coat with yachi following right after.
they mentioned previously that both of them will have to leave earlier this time, but you only remembered that now; a warm understanding smile gracing your face as you said your goodbyes, the three of you giggling at tsukishima mumbling how he's going to 'beat you all up tomorrow for making him so drunk.'
as the door closed behind them, a sigh left your lips. the apologetic look on yamaguchi's face wasn't there for no reason; he, as well as the rest of your friends, were all well aware of the massive crush you had on him. ever since freshman year, it's been something you promised yourself you will hide from him forever.
tsukishima stretched his arms, a yawn leaving his lips as the late night hours finally caught up to him. you didn't notice when your neutral look turned to a bright smile. there was something incredibly comforting in this specific sight, tsukishima's soft features looking completely different from his usual appearance.
you crouched down next to the couch, trying to decide whether you should leave him to sleep here or try to get him to your bed and take the couch yourself. you almost didn't notice tsukishima's eyes glued to your face, a curious look to them as he scanned your features, something incredibly similar to what you've done just a while ago. he looked deep in thought, the pinkish color fading from his cheeks with time.
'has anyone told you you have a really interesting face?' he stated, his lips curved up in a proud smile as if he'd given you the greatest compliment of all time. 'you know, it's like a kaleidoscope. no matter how long you stare at it, you still can't take your eyes off of it.'
you laughed, the tips of your ears burning red, regardless of how stupid his 'compliment' was. sober tsukishima would never say something like this, but then again, that was the whole point. the sole reason why the blonde didn't drink much was that it brought out a different side of him.
an embarrassing one at that.
'alright, kei. let's get you to bed.'
you used all the strength you had to get him off the couch, a satisfied smile on your face when he got up on his own, almost tumbling over in the process. a giggle escaped your lips at the sight; knowing just how much you were going to laugh at him for it tomorrow, and every day after that.
you motioned for him to sit down on the bed, swiftly moving towards the wardrobe to him some fresh bedding.
'ohhhh,' a prolonged hum left tsukishima's lips as you started changing the sheets, his curious eyes following your frame around the room. he had his glasses back on, so now he could actually see what was happening. 'are we sleeping together?'
you almost choked on your own saliva.
your eyes met his for a brief second, just as you were finishing with the bed. you gently pushed him to lay down, taking his glasses off in the process so he won't break them when sleeping.
'i'll be sleeping on the couch tonight, so no.'
you looked over to the boy only to see... a frown?
it was almost as if you were looking at a completely different person. you were once more amazed with just how much a few drinks can change someone's behavior entirely.
tsukishima reached for your hand, pulling you down to lay with him. his touch send a wave of shivers down your body, as his tall frame scooted closer to you.
'stay here.' he murmured quietly. in that very moment, you forgot he wasn't sober; you wanted this situation to actually become reality. so, with a tad bit of hesitation, you obliged.
soon sleepiness got the best of you, your eyes slowly fluttering shut as you fell asleep, the blonde laying right beside you, his arm wrapped around your body as he murmured something under his breath. you didn't catch half of what he said, but there were three distinct words that you managed to understand.
'i love you.'
as tsukishima woke up the next day, a headache accompanying him from the moment he opened his eyes, the side of the bed was already empty. he slowly got up, arms reaching for his glasses laying on the small coffee table by the bed.
he slowly but surely tumbled into the kitchen, surprised when he saw a cup of tea standing in front of him already. his eyes shot up to be met with your figure, standing by the kitchen counter and making breakfast.
you smiled at the boy, looking at him for a spare second before focusing back on chopping the vegetables.
'this should help you with your headache.' you said, putting the last of chopped tomatoes into the bowl before giving the salad a nice mix, as silence took over the room.
'i said something stupid yesterday, didn't i?' his words echoed through the kitchen, disrupting the silence between you.
'now that you mention it' you said, putting down a bowl of food and a fork in front of him, sitting down on the chair right beside him. 'you did compare my face to a kaleidoscope, pouted like a kid when i told you i'm sleeping on the couch and were mumbling some incoherent words right before you fell asleep.'
tsukishima slightly covered his face, trying to hide his visible embarrassment at the mention of his drunken actions.
'well, at least i didnt confess to you when drunk.'
you looked at him for a long minute, your eyes indicating that something of this sort did happen yesterday. tsukishima's face was now flushed pink, more embarrassed than ever.
'oh.'
the room went completely silent, the two of you focusing on your food as you tried to think of any way to shift the conversation, get rid of the massive amounts of awkwardness.
tsukishima stood up, quickly getting your attention as your eyes shot up to meet his, a look on his face which you couldn't quite decipher.
'sorry for yesterday.' he sighed, hand moving up to adjust his glasses. he had a somewhat troubled look on his face, one that was apparent no matter how much he tried to hide it behind his cold demeanor.
he opened his lips for a few seconds, hesitant about his next words.
'i had somewhat of a different idea for my confession, but i guess that's it.'
you froze on the spot, mouth slightly agape, eyes searching for any indicators of tsukishima's words being a joke. despite trying really hard, she found nothing; only a nervous silence on the blonde's end, waiting for you to say something, anything.
'you... like me?'
he could only nod in response, distressed when seeing the huge grin growing on your face. he had no idea what to expect when you took a few steps towards him, but it definitely wasn't a kiss on the cheek, leaving his cheeks a deep shade of red.
'it's good to know that my feelings are mutual.'
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taglist: @ox1-lovesick @moonswolfie @wyrcan
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appocalipse · 9 months
Text
MAKE IT EASY (part 2) : ̗̀➛ STEVE HARRINGTON
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・❥・part 1・part 2・❥・3k words
Summary: steve asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family dinner. the problem is: after all is said and done, he gives you the cold shoulder. have you done something wrong?
Steve has a problem.
No, scratch that. He created a problem for himself, actually, about a week ago. A big, confusing problem that he now has no idea how to solve, so naturally what he's doing is plan B, which is the next best thing: avoiding the problem until it somehow resolves itself.
You are Steve Harrington's problem.
You, with your disarming smile, your gratuitous kindness and your impossible-to-forget laugh. You had made his parents like you, for God's sake. If that's not proof enough that you have some kind of magic working behind your smile, Steve doesn't know what is.
Oh! And of course, there is that damn dress.
Steve lowers his head until his forehead rests on the counter and sighs. Ah, that dress. Steve probably shouldn't think about it, let alone what was beneath it, the warm skin he touched for just a few seconds…no. He shouldn't think about it if he wanted to keep his sanity intact. But apparently, he likes to torture himself.
Steve stays in this awkward position for all of five dramatic seconds until his spine hurts. He straightens up again, with another sigh.
"You should talk to her."
It's Robin (of course) giving her opinion (that no one asked, Steve thinks bitterly) as she walks past him with a stack of tapes in her hands.
"I should never talk to her again. In fact," he argues, speaking a little louder so Robin can hear him from the back of the store, "if you're really my friend, you should make sure that I don't talk to her for the rest of my life."
"Coward."
"Maybe I am."
Even from this distance, Steve is under the impression that he hears Robin sighing.
She walks so fast that he doesn't even register the sound of her footsteps until Robin is in front of him, on the other side of Family Video's front counter, looking at him the way a mother would look at a child throwing a tantrum.
"You are going to talk to her," says Robin, with the certainty of someone who says the sky is blue.
"No."
She smiles. Steve is certain he recognizes that smile. It's the one that scares him, the same that precedes the moment when Dustin or one of the other kids says something like "just trust me, I have an idea", and the idea usually involves a robbery, a murder or interdimensional travel. Sometimes, all three of them.
"Robin-"
She has her backpack on her back.
"End of my shift," Robin hums, suspiciously happy. She takes a step back which, Steve thinks, is quite prudent considering what she says next, "…which means, my dear Steve, that you are obligated to serve our customers. Any customer. Even if you don't want to speak to this specific customer, you'll have to-"
Steve leans over the counter — to do what exactly, he's not sure; strangle her, perhaps — but Robin, as always, is faster. She laughs, and before he can do anything other than practically beg her to stay, Robin is out the front door yelling I'm sorry! over her shoulder, even though Steve knows she's not sorry at all.
Less than ten minutes later, the bell above the door rings again, and Steve wouldn't even have to look to know it's you.
You enter the store and your steps are quick, hurried, a clear goal in your mind.
You stop in front of Steve, almost exactly where Robin had stood a few minutes ago, but the look in your eyes is completely different for more reasons than one.
Steve swallows hard. You had been here two other times this week, and both times Steve managed to somehow force Robin to distract you, acting as if he was too busy to see you. You had clearly decided to talk to her behind his back, because all this had definitely been an elaborate plan between the two of you so that Steve couldn't get away.
You get to the point, crossing your arms. "You are avoiding me."
You're not asking; you're telling him. You know. You noticed.
Well, of course you did. You're smart. Smarter than him for sure.
Steve can only hope you haven't found out about the reason why he's avoiding you these past few days. That would be hard to explain.
He clears his throat. It's like he's trying to breathe with a couple of birds inside his ribcage.
"I'm not avoiding you," he says, but he looks away so quickly he doubts you believe him. "I've just got a lot going on lately…" he trails off, racking his brain for an excuse that would make sense without revealing too much.
It isn't fair — you're the last person he wants to hurt, and yet it took some elaborate plan between you and Robin to get him to stand in front of you again.
Pathetic.
You don't seem impressed. In fact, you laugh before he's even finished speaking, but it's not your usual light, happy laugh; It's a low, wry chuckle that makes Steve feel instantly irritated, even though he knows he probably doesn't even have that right after everything.
He knows he hurt you. He knows. He never wanted that. But you…you have no idea how torturous that night, that dinner had been for him. So yes; he does get a little angry.
"You've got nothing new going on lately!" you retort, growing angry yourself. "You just- I don't know. Have I…done something wrong? Did I make your parents mad that night or something? Because all of a sudden-"
"No!" he snaps, the word coming out harsher than he intended, and definitely louder. His cheeks flush with anger, and then embarrassment, and suddenly Steve desperately wants to crawl into a hole somewhere.
He clears his throat.
"No, you didn't do anything wrong," he repeats, softer this time. "It's just…it's complicated."
"It's complicated?" you ask, and now you're all but yelling too. Great. "That's your excuse for flat out ignoring me for the past week?"
"I'm not ignoring you!" he protests, his voice a bit higher than usual.
The truth is: he has been avoiding you. Every time he sees you, he feels this strange pull towards you - a mix of attraction and annoyance that he can't quite figure out. And every time he talks to you, he worries that maybe he'll say too much, or worse yet, say nothing at all and you, with your annoyingly sharp mind, will read him like a book.
As if that wasn't enough, Steve thinks, tormented, you decide to walk around the counter to literally stand in front of him, nothing else between the two of you besides a couple of steps.
This proximity feels like a trap. Steve takes another step back and his hipbone hits the counter. Dear God.
"Yes, you are!" you argue, crossing your arms and taking a step forward almost without realizing it. "You asked me to pretend to be your girlfriend for one night so that your parents would leave you alone, and I did. I thought it was okay. But then you pretty much ran out of my house afterwards and refused all my attempts to talk to you ever since."
You sigh. You lift your chin and look up at him, and, alarmed, Steve notices that your eyes are a little red, as if you're holding yourself back from crying.
He's making you cry?
Shit. The last thing he wants in the world is to make you cry.
"Tell me what I did wrong," you say, and the sudden softness of your voice catches Steve off-guard. "You owe me at least that, don't you? If seeing me is such a problem for you, just..tell me what I did wrong and I'll leave you alone. I'll go…clearly that's what you want."
"No, that's not what I want," he says quickly, stepping closer to you before his mind can catch up on his intentions. "Look, I'm sorry. I just…I don't know how to handle this."
He runs a hand through his tousled hair, and you probably notice the desperation in his tone, because you just stand there, looking at him. Waiting, he realizes. You don't move.
Then you ask, sounding so innocently confused that Steve almost feels like screaming:
"How to handle…what?"
It's not possible, he thinks. There's no way you didn't notice. You would have to be blind, deaf and…well, maybe not even then. Steve had thought things had gotten pretty clear the week before, at your place, when you had asked him to unzip your damn dress and he had gotten so carried away he almost kissed you and…
Well.
"You," he answers immediately, looking you square in the eye with all the genuine honesty he still has the capacity for. "I don't know how to handle the fact that I…" Steve swallows.
"That you..?" you encourage, taking a tentative step closer.
"Do you really want to know?" he asks, not moving an inch.
"Yes."
Steve's heart skips a beat, a beat that could very well be his last. "Look-"
"Tell me."
"I think you already know."
"I don't."
"Oh, come on," Steve says, his voice cracking as he lets out a humourless chuckle. "You can't tell me you didn't notice the way I looked at you last week. I mean, Jesus, I asked you to pretend to be my girlfriend for dinner with my parents, and then I almost…"
He trails off.
And there it is; that funny feeling inside your chest, that warmth you can't even begin to explain.
"You almost what?"
He chuckles again. "Why do you think I left like that?"
"I honestly have no fucking idea, Steve."
"You asked me to unzip your dress."
"And?"
Steve looks at you like you'd just grown an extra limb.
"You can't be serious."
"Okay, fine, I'm sorry I asked you to do that, but I didn't mean to make you, uh…uncomfortable. You could have said no if-"
"That's not it." Steve cuts you off, frustrated because God help him, you don't get it. You still, somehow, don't get it. He doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry.
So what he does instead is turn around, placing his hands on the counter, his back turned to you so that he can think clearly for a moment without being distracted by the way you're looking at him.
But you…oh, you never let things go, do you?
"What is it then, Steve, huh?" you ask, shortening the distance between the two of you by half. You know the answer, or at least a part of you does. But the other part, the part that's stubborn and insecure and tired…wants to hear him say it. Needs to hear him say it. "What is it? Because it feels like you just want to hurt me. You asked me to pretend to be your girlfriend for one night, but it didn't feel like we were…"
Pretending. Is that what you were going to say?
You stop speaking abruptly, eyes wide as if the words had come out of your mouth on their own. Judging by how angry you sounded, Steve thinks that's exactly what happened.
"Then you just…decided to ignore me."
For one moment, the only thing between you two is the silence.
"I didn't do that to hurt you," his voice is a whisper.
"Then what the fuck were you trying to do, Steve?"
"Get over you!"
"I...what?"
It feels like you're taunting him at this point.
"What, not what you expected?" He says, voice tight as he turns around to face you again, a bitter laugh trapped inside his throat. "C'mon, are you that oblivious?" 
He's getting closer to you as he speaks now, voice growing more intense, more desperate; but you don't back away, he notices. You don't move, don't push him away. All you do is look up at him with those pretty eyes of yours, waiting, searching for something in his expression. 
"I-I fucked up, okay? I told you it was just play pretend but the truth is…I didn't have to pretend one bit," he confesses, eyes finding yours, and immediately that anger — or whatever it was — dissipates, his tone softening as a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "I should have known that having you for one night, even if it was just pretend, would just make it that much worse. That's why I tried to avoid you. To get over you…and clearly that didn't work."
There's so much you want to say that you feel like you're choking on your own words. "I don't- you, I mean-"
"No, it's alright, just…" He looks down at the ground, then steps back again with a small, empty chuckle. "Go ahead and reject me. Make it easy for me."
"I-what? Reject you?" If a demogorgon suddenly showed up and swallowed your left leg whole, you're pretty sure you would have been less taken aback.
"I know it's not what you want to hear. It's not how I wanted things to go either. But I'm trying to be honest here," he says, taking another step back, feeling more and more exposed with every stupid word that comes out of his mouth. "I care about you. And I know that if I don't get over this, it's going to ruin everything. So, please, just-"
"Oh my God, you are so stupid!"
Your tone of voice changed completely. Steve lifts his head to look at you, and to his complete and utter confusion, you're laughing.
Laughing.
For a terrible moment, the thought that you're laughing at him crosses his mind, but then…
You hug him. You hug him so tightly, in fact, that Steve is pushed back a step or two, and suddenly he's pressed up against the counter once again.
“You didn’t kiss me,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your cheek pressed against his chest. 
He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your hair and feeling the soft cotton of your shirt under his fingers. He can feel the warmth of your body against his. It's almost painful, how good it feels to be this close to you. 
He wonders if he heard it wrong.
No — he certainly heard it wrong. He's hallucinating. Must be.
"Wait, I…what?"
You don't move an inch, but Steve feels as you take a deep breath against his shirt. He wishes he could see your face. 
"That night," you explain, finally looking up at him. You look more flustered than he's ever seen you. Closing one of your hands into a fist, you hit Steve's chest without any real force. "I thought you were going to kiss me, but then you just ran off without saying anything. How was I supposed to guess that you actually liked me, Steve Harrington?"
He almost chuckles. Steve feels like his heart is in his throat, he can't believe what he's hearing. You like him? You, the girl he's been crushing on for what feels like forever, actually like him? 
It's too much to process. He tries to form a response, but all that comes out is a strangled sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
So instead of trying to use any stupid words, he reaches out and cups your face in his hands, feeling the warmth of your skin against his. He leans down slowly, his heart pounding in his chest, and finally, finally, when you don't move away…he brushes his lips against yours. 
It's just a soft, tentative touch, but it's enough to make him forget about everything else. 
Steve pulls back then, waiting for you to pull away, to tell him no…but you don't. You close your eyes and lean into him, opening your mouth a little more against his, inviting him in. He takes the invitation, pressing his lips against yours again, more firmly this time, feeling your soft, warm tongue slide against his. He presses harder, deepening the kiss, feeling your hands curl into his shirt as he pulls you even closer.
You feel dizzy, light-headed, and utterly, perfectly lost in this moment. 
Your hands cling to his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscles there as you, too, attempt to pull him closer, as close as possible…and then, the bell above the front door rings, announcing that someone just entered the store.
Fuck. 
Steve groans as you pull back immediately.
It's just a customer, an older man with a newspaper under his arm, looking around curiously. Steve knows it's not his fault, but he doesn't think he's ever hated anyone quite so strongly.
He looks down at you and it's a mistake; you look so beautiful with your cheeks flushed, lips swollen from the kiss, a soft, embarrassed smile on your mouth. Steve doesn't know what to say, he's not even sure he knows how to find his voice right now, so one of his hands finds its way up to cup your cheek again, fingers curling gently while the man walks around the store looking for God knows what.
Steve feels like he's on cloud nine. He wants nothing more than to lose himself in you again, and to hell with Family Video's customers. But you, on the other hand…
You grin. "You should probably-"
"Don't go anywhere," Steve tells you with a grin of his own. "I'll be right back."
Apparently, he wasn't aware that he wouldn't be able to get rid of you if he tried.
tags (i hope i haven't forgotten anyone, sorry!): @siriuslysmoking @sebastiansstanswhore @sorchateas @boomitsallie1 @vivzzi @mel119g @skrzydlak
my masterlist | buy me a coffee
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shares-a-vest · 1 year
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Wayne shuffles to the door, desperate to answer the incessant knocking that sounds like whoever is on the other side is going to beat the exterior fly screen straight off its hinges. He is greeted by Claudia Henderson, clutching her handbag strap tight across her chest and looking very serious.
Although it might just be his sleep-deprived inability to gauge the emotions of chipper 9-to-5 receptionists who wear cosy sweaters. He checks his watch. He’s only been asleep for about an hour after getting home from night shift - what with waiting for Hurricane Eddie to finally head off for the garage.
“Hello, Wayne,” Claudia nods and purses her lips.
He scrubs a hand over his face but steps back nonetheless to let her in. Claudia is one step in the doorway anyhow.
“Coffee,” he not-so-much asks as he moves to the kitchen.
“No, thank you,” Claudia says politely, “I usually wait for my morning tea break.”
He looks over to find her pulling out his assigned chair at the breakfast table. She looks nervous, if a little pissed off as she gathers her handbag up on her lap. He blinks harshly and pinches his nose enough to press his forefinger and thumb into the inner corners of his eyes. He really needs to wake the hell up a little more, it appears.
“What did Eddie do?” he sighs, looking over the drying rack on the sink for one of the mugs he has in his rotation at the present time.
“Oh, Eddie hasn’t done a thing!” she insists, a smile evident in her voice, “I’m here about Steve.”
Cubs mug it is then...
He frowns again and turns back to Claudia, confused. And the woman looks like she was expecting such a reaction because she huffs and straightens up, looking like she is readying herself to give a sermon on the kid.
“I need you to help me convince that boy to move in with Dustin and me,” she explains, promptly holding up a defensive hand, “Now, I know he stays here, mostly This isn’t about anything to do with you… Or Eddie…”
She tacks that last mention of his nephew on with a tone and a knowing look.
Wayne clears his throat. It’s certainly far too early in the morning for the ins and outs of that conversation. He flicks the kettle on to drown out the awkward silence between them.
“Have you uh...” he hums and scratches the back of his neck as he searches for words, “Have you talked with him about this, at all?”
Claudia squeaks out a noise he assumes is a negative as he quickly spoons coffee into his mug. He’ll settle for black coffee for now - he really cannot be assed to stand up for much longer, even if he did have the sense to quickly step into his comfy slippers when Claudia came a-pounding on the door.
“And you want my help specifically?” he says, raising his voice above the steaming kettle that is whistling away in boiling readiness.
“Yes!”
He waves a hand in the air, “Well, what about Robin?”
“Oh, gosh, no! I can’t talk to that girl,” he barks a laugh that makes Claudia startle in her seat, forcing her to clarify, “I mean she is a steel trap about that boy!”
Wayne smirks and nods as he heads for the table with his piping hot - and hopefully, heavily caffeinated - beverage, “He’s not the biggest talker when it comes to himself.”
“I’m not one to speak ill of other mothers,” Claudia says in a hushed tone, “God knows, I am not perfect. But where are his parents?”
She rocks a little with each word like she has needed to ask that question for a good long while. Of course, Wayne thinks about Steve’s parents. A lot. Because the boy almost never mentions them.
He shrugs, “He says they stayed away on business.”
“After everything that has happened in this town?” she argues, voice growing shrill with worry, “Did he tell you what actually happened with the mall fire? It was more of that other dimension nonsense!”
He almost chokes on his coffee. He knows a little - there was no way around it with Eddie in the hospital surrounded by all those secret nurses and doctors. But he didn’t know Claudia Henderson knew about some of it too. Still, he decides to remain cautious and gestures for her to continue.
“And he’s been concussed more times than he can remember!”
She slumps back in her seat with a look of such horror, Wayne thinks the sweet woman sitting opposite him considers it her closing argument.
Wayne taps on the rim of his coffee cup. They would have to tread carefully, not ambush the kid.
“He does get a lot of migraines - ” is all he can think to say.
“ - And he has dizzy spells,” Claudia cuts in, leaning forward. He can see tears starting to well up, “I just want him to be looked after. I know he’s a young man with his own life and everything, but he still needs a parent to care for him, to support him.”
“Yeah,” Wayne nods firmly, “Yes, he does.”
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rkvriki · 11 months
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PAIRING ! ceo!jay x trophy wife!reader
SYNOPSIS ! A lavish lifestyle, the perfect rich husband, a full walk-in closet, expensive jewlery, expensive car, luxurious vacations... You had it all. Or at least everyone thought so. There was one thing missing for you and only your husband could give it to you. Was he gonna give it to you that easily?
WARNINGS ! SMUT! afab reader; jay praises reader; kind of dumbification of reader?? but not really; jay is a tease and kind of edges her; oral (f receiving); p in v; porn with unnecessary plot; handjob, reader calls herself a slut jokingly in the very end; jay smacks her ass once; this will be awkward get ready ! lmk if im missing any warning
word count: 4.3k
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When you married Jay you knew what you were getting yourself into. Even when you guys were only dating, the tabloids’ front pages were already filled with pictures of you two in any situation they could catch you in. It was expected, of course. Who would ignore the fact that the daughter of one of the biggest CEOs of the country is now married to the young rich CEO who took over his father’s positions in one of the biggest companies out there? Everyone who looked close enough could tell you were both head over heels for one another, but that wasn’t enough to stop people from calling your marriage a mere deal or arrangement. Those headlines made you gag when you looked at them.
You couldn’t care less about them but something about people actually believing that made you get a sour feeling in your stomach. You were used to being a hot topic in magazines and whatnot. People always found a chance to make you a target of criticism, maybe out of envy, you wouldn’t know and never tried to do so. Ever since you were young you were taught the art of not giving a fuck mostly by your mother who knew you would deal with this kind of thing in your adult life.
Now ever since you got married people thought you were living the perfect life. I mean, you had everything you wanted in the palm of your hand, who wouldn’t want that? You spent almost all of your days at home, never needing to raise a single finger since you had a housemaid to do everything for you. But was it all that good? No one can imagine how boring that can get. It got to the point where you have asked, no, begged the maid to help her out just for the sake of doing something. And poor woman told you to do something simple because you don’t even know how to work with the laundry machine since you were never requested to do any house chores.
You gave up on trying to do anything, accepting that there would be days when you really had nothing to do. Unfortunately for you, today was one of those days. Or kind of one of those days. There was one thing you knew that could satisfy your craving for the day but said thing was not home at the moment. So you got up and went inside your closet looking for one specific thing. Browsing through one of your multiple drawers you finally felt the fine rich lace. Pulling it out, you stared at the beautiful two pieces of black lace lingerie that Jay had bought but you’ve never worn before. You quickly got ready, being extra careful with your appearance, and made your way out of the house, driving straight to your husband’s company building. 
The sound of your heels clacking was the only thing heard in the big building’s hallway alongside the whispers of, mostly, female workers around you. The quiet voices were something you learned to ignore over time. Not that they were worth being heard anyway, being nothing more than jealous comments coming from women who envied you just for the simple fact you dated their hot boss. You were very much used to hearing Jay’s employees call you trophy wife, which wasn’t exactly a lie if you were being honest.
You were a stay-at-home wife, who spent her time relaxing at home or shopping, so cliché right? It’s just the lifestyle that was given to you by your husband. You had a college degree but Jay insisted that you didn’t need to work since he had more than enough to provide you with a comfortable lifestyle and who were you to deny him that? Everyone told you you were being ungrateful for wasting your precious superior education years but you knew damn well if they were given the same opportunity they would take it.
You’ve always been privileged since you were little, being born into a family of old money who had always been involved with multiple big companies, which brought you to meet Jay. You were invited to a party that one of your father’s associates hosted and everyone who owned big businesses like his’ was there. Later that night, at the after party when your parents were already home, you met Jay. You would love to say you weren’t expecting it, but you spent the whole evening eyeing him, trying to get his attention, because no, just having a pair of perky tits and round ass wasn’t enough to get a man like Jay. You knew the moment you saw him silently reject other women that you would need to work hard for his attention, and it worked out just fine for you. Needless to say, the night went to your accord and somehow it ended up with you two getting married two years later.
You looked in the direction of the people whispering, seeing the two workers who were always running their mouths about you when you were present in the building. You simply looked at them with nothing but disgust in your eyes and kept making your way to the big tinted door. You don’t even bother to knock as you make your way inside Jay’s office. He looks up from his computer, making eye contact with you, seeing you smiling and all pretty for him. “Didn’t expect you to come here, baby.” Jays said as he smiled at you, motioning for you to come closer. You walked up to his side, towering over him as you gave him a tight hug. “I missed you and there was nothing to do so I came to see you.” You told him with a pout, making Jay laugh at your behaviour.
“It’s not funny, Jay! You’ve been so busy lately, we barely spend any time together.” You said with a huff, crossing your arms while avoiding looking at him. “Baby, I already told you that we’ve been dealing with this very important client and I can’t just drop this.” He said with a sigh. “I understand you feel upset and I’m not trying to discard your feelings but I also need you to understand that this is a big thing for the company, yeah?” You held back a sigh, trying not to sound too upset. “I know that, but you barely pay any attention to me when you’re home.” 
Many were the nights where you waited patiently for Jay to arrive in bed, seeing the clock hit 11pm and not seeing any signs of him coming anytime soon and before you could help it you would fall asleep curled to his side of the bed. There was only one time when you were able to stay up until he came, sitting all dolled up pretty while you waited for him in your most expensive silk nightgown. Jay didn’t seem to get the hint of you needing and craving his attention, because he simply kissed you goodnight before making his way to the bathroom to get ready to sleep. You decided that you were gonna give him the silent treatment, but you couldn’t ignore someone who wasn’t even in the house. You stopped trying to wait for him, you were only wasting your efforts so you just waited for this dry spell to be over. It’s not like you only missed Jay for sex, but you were a healthy woman with needs and your ovaries were screaming at you.
“You know I don't mean to do that, baby.” Jay said as he got up, making you turn your back to him. You knew your sulking was being unreasonable but if you didn’t exaggerate in your reactions Jay wouldn’t do anything about this. “Y/n, please look at me, princess.” your husband said, grabbing your arms to turn you around. You faced him, looking up at him with the best puppy eyes you could pull. Jay brought his hand up to brush your cheek, making you lean into his touch. “You know I love more than anything in this world, don’t you?” He asked as he held your face, making you look at him in the eyes. You nodded at him, your eyes drifting from his eyes to his pouty lips you adored and missed so much. He seemed to get the hint and sat back in his chair, patting his lap, motioning for you to sit on his lap.
You wrapped your arms around his neck as you got comfortable in his lap. Jay leaned forward, capturing your lips for a passionate kiss. You kissed him back eagerly, trying to get as close as possible to him. His pillowy lips fitted perfectly with yours and you felt like you were getting on cloud nine. His tongue licked at your lips, indulging them to open up, making you do so. His tongue danced around with yours, not trying to fight for dominance with yours. You moaned in his mouth as he sucked on your tongue, making you clench your thighs together. You pulled away from the kiss, feeling your cheeks grow hotter and hotter with each second passing by. 
“Jay…” You said, your voice merely above a whisper. “Yeah, baby?” He leaned his forehead into yours, making you close your eyes shut. “Need you so bad, Jay. Please.” You whined against him, your ass slightly grinding against his crotch. Jay laughed at your answer, almost feeling bad for what he was about to do. “Yeah? Tell me what you need me to do. Use your big girl words.” He said with a smirk, his lips brushing against yours, making your craving for him grow even more. “Need your cock, Jay. Need you to fuck me so hard. Please…” You buried your head in the crook of his neck, embarrassed by your own neediness. “Such a good girl using your words, aren’t you, pretty girl?” He asked not actually looking for an answer but you nodded anyway. “That’s right, baby.” He started. “It’s a shame I need to leave for a meeting now, isn’t it? But big girls like you can wait, don’t they?” 
Your eyes widened at his words. Your hands went to his shoulders, grabbing his suit jacket in desperation.“No, no! Please, Jay. Don’t do this, please.” You begged, making Jay chuckle. “Look at you. Going dumb for my cock.” He said grabbing your chin with his soft hand. “I thought better than that didn’t I? If you don’t behave you might not even get anything tonight, get it?” You felt tears of frustration prickling in your eyes, but you blinked them away as you nodded at him. “Use your words.” He demanded, grabbing your face harder. “Yes, I understand.” You answered, feeling pathetic for how you felt yourself getting even more wet. “Good.” He said releasing your face. “Now, go home and wait for me. And don’t you dare touch yourself until I get back tonight.” And with that he walked away towards the meeting room, leaving you alone in his office with all your efforts of looking good going to waste.
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You felt like you would burst with how desperate and needy you were. Jay had sent you home more than 3 hours ago and he still hadn’t come back. If this was some stupid test where he was trying to test your patience, well, it can end right here right now, because you had none, at least at the moment. You were lying in bed staring at the ceiling, feeling your panties uncomfortably stick to your core. You tried to distract yourself with anything you could. You scrolled endlessly through your phone and even spent a good amount of time and money in online shopping just for the heck of it. You sighed for the nth time that evening as you closed your eyes trying to think of something that wasn’t your husband or his dick inside you.
You looked at the clock on your nightstand seeing it was way past 6pm and just as you were about to get up from bed, you heard the front door slam open. Your face quickly stretched with a smile as you looked at the door waiting for Jay to make his entrance. You heard his footsteps getting close, making you bite your lip with anticipation. The door finally opened revealing your husband loosening his tie, his eyes sharp and dark with what could only be lust. He walked to stand at the foot of the bed, admiring you, still wearing the outfit from earlier, your thighs pressed together.
Jay’s knees dipped the mattress as he got up on the bed, towering over you, making you look up at him with those doe eyes of yours. His hands grabbed both of your knees, pulling your legs apart so he could lean down to your height. His lips brushed against your neck, sending shivers down your spine before spreading kisses all over the skin there. You closed your eyes with a moan as he sucked that one spot that made you weak, sucking on the area before soothing it with his tongue. He pulled back looking at you in the eyes. “Poor baby.” He said caressing your cheek with his thumb.
“Waited so patiently for me, didn’t you, pretty?” You nodded your head at him as a whine escaped your pouty lips. “Think you deserve a reward, no?” He asked rolling his sleeves up his forearms. “Yes! Yes, Jay. I waited for so long. Deserve it so bad, please.” You said as you felt your eyes tear up from the relief of finally getting what you’ve been waiting for. “That’s right, baby. Been so cruel to you, haven’t I? Making you wait like that.” His face leaned closer to yours, your noses brushing against each other before Jay crashed his lips against yours in a needy kiss. 
The sound of your lips smacking filled the room. Your teeth clashed against each other, but nothing mattered right now. Jay’s hands roamed up from your thighs until they reached the hem of your top, pulling it off of you easily, revealing your lacy bra. “Fuck.” He muttered under his breath. “You’ve been wearing this the whole day?” He asked making you nod at him. “Wore it just for you, Jay.” You said in a whiny tone. “Yeah? It’s a shame it’s coming off later. Or should we keep it?” He didn’t allow you to answer as he captured your lips in another kiss, biting your lower lip, making you let out a low moan.
The air in the room seemed to be getting hotter, the sound of your breathy moans started getting louder the needier you both got. Jay laid you down on the bed, settling himself in between your legs. His hands circled your hips, searching for the zip of your skirt. He got up to pull off your skirt leaving you in your lacy set. He licked his lips as he looked you up and down, his eyes stopping at the dark spot in your panties. You closed your thighs shut, suddenly feeling shy. He chuckled at you as he opened them back, sliding down on the bed, his face now eye level with your cunt.
He started kissing on your inner thighs, whiney moans leaving your parted lips as you laced your fingers in his hair trying to lead his head to the place you needed him the most. “Be patient, baby.” He said in a soft voice but it felt like a warning. You gasped when you felt his nose nudge against your clothed clit. “Please, Jay. Need it so bad, can’t take it anymore.” Jay let out a hum at that. “Need what, pretty? Need you to be more specific.” You held back a frustrated groan. “Need your tongue, please.” Jay seemed pleased with your words as he pulled your panties down, revealing your glistening pussy. He let out a shaky breath as he closed his eyes and inhaled your sweet scent. You felt your heart thump in your chest as you felt his hot breath get closer to your heat.
His tongue made contact with your clit in an experimental flick, your thighs wanting to close around his head as you let out a soft moan at the small contact. His lips engulfed your nub, sucking on your bunch of nerves as you pull his hair harder. Jay closes his eyes as he focuses on pleasuring you, giving you what you earned. His mouth moves south as his tongue teases your entrance, your sweet taste hitting his taste buds making him moan lowly, the vibrations causing you to squirm against him. He moved his tongue further, getting inside your warm cunt as his nose bumped against your clit, stimulating it. Your brain going numb from the pleasure you missed so much, your moans getting louder the further his tongue got inside of you. Jay twisted and turned his tongue in your insides, at this point doing it for his own pleasure as he rutted his hips against the mattress.
“Please, Jay. Need your fingers, fuck!” You begged him as you looked down to where his mouth met your cunt, making you moan at the sight. He didn’t speak a word as he obliged to your request. He pulled his mouth off of you and before you could complain, his two fingers replaced his tongue, entering you with ease. You let out a silent moan as his lips made their way back to your clit as his fingers kept thrusting in and out of you at a fast pace. He was hitting all of your favourite spots, making you see starts. You started to feel the familiar knot form in your stomach, your thighs clenching around his head as you grinded against his face, smothering him with your essence.
“Fuck, Jay. I’m so close!” You were panting at this point, holding his face in the spot, afraid you would lose the sweet pleasure you were feeling. Jay’s fingers didn’t falter and you felt yourself getting closer and closer, squelching sounds filled the room along with your rapid breathing. Suddenly his fingers hit the spongy spot inside you, making you let out a silent scream as you let yourself get the sweet release you craved so much. “F-Fuck Jay. Oh my god!” You said as he pulled away from your pussy, but kept his fingers going inside you, helping you ride out your orgasm. He leaned down, kissing your lips and swallowing your moans. You whined in overstimulation, pulling his fingers out of you. “Thank you, Jay.” You said smiling at him, making him laugh at you as he rested his forehead on yours. “You deserve it, baby.” He said as he lovingly pecked your forehead.
You got up on your knees in front of him as you started pawing at his belt, trying to undo it. “Wanna suck you off.” You said, batting your eyelashes up at him. “No need to do that now, princess.” He said removing your hands from him and undoing his pants himself. You pouted your lips at his rejection. “Please, Jay! I really wanna do it!” You whined against him. He closes his eyes, letting out a breathy shake. “Y/n, if I don’t fuck you right now I’m gonna bust in my pants, so shut up and just let me fuck your pussy, yeah?” Words got stuck in your throat at his words, eyes watching his every move as he removed all of his clothes, now standing in all his naked glory.
Your eyes roamed from his sculpted face, down to his abs and when they were reaching his crotch, his hand held your chin, making you look up at his smirking face. “Eyes up here, doll.” You blushed, smiling up at him making him mirror your expression. Jay leaned down and connected your lips with yours while slowly lying you back down again. He hovered over you, his cock bushing against your core just slightly but it still makes you shudder when you feel it.
You tried to sit up to remove your bra but Jay stopped you. “Jay- My bra!” You whined. “Keep it.” He said sternly and you obviously weren’t gonna deny him that. His lips went back to yours, kissing you passionately. One of your hands travelled down his chest until it reached his member. You wrapped your warm hand around him, making him hiss in your mouth. You gathered some pre-cum that leaked from the tip to aid you when you started stroking him. Your hand felt delicious around him. It squeezed and twisted in all right places, making him buck his hips in your fist. Jay took your hand off of him and went to reach his nightstand where he kept his condoms, but your hand stopped him. “Fuck me raw, Jay. Please.”
Maybe it was the way there was a slight whine or maybe it was the way your eyes looked up at him, but somehow, Jay found himself agreeing with his wife. “Fuck, ok.” Jay grabbed the base of his cock and aligned it with your entrance, not wasting any time to thrust unto you. The raw feeling of your walls wasn’t foreign to him, but it had been a while and he felt like he could bust a nut right there and then. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling every vein and bump of his dick as you moaned loudly. 
Jay stayed still for a while before pulling back until only his tip was inside before thrusting back in. Your eyes opened wide as you felt him hit seep inside you as he started fucking you at a fast pace. Your hands desperately scratched his back, in need of something to hold on to. Your moans along with his sounded like a melody to you. The sound of skin slapping and the lewd sounds coming from your wet pussy filled the room. The feeling of his tip almost hitting your cervix was becoming almost overwhelming to you and your moans were coming out almost silent from the immense pleasure. Both of your bodies were now covered in a sheen layer of sweat, making your husband glow under the warm light of your bedroom.
His body was gliding against yours just perfectly, intensifying your feelings. He propped himself on his elbows, now closer to you, making your nipples rub against his. Your moans were getting louder as his fat tip started hitting the spongy spot. “Need more. More, please, Jay!” You begged, taking all of your energy to voice out your request. Jay chuckled at you. “I’m already fucking you this hard and you still need more, huh?” He said making you whine. Suddenly he stopped, making you whine. He sat up on his knees as he grabbed your hips and turned you around, putting you with your ass up.
Your face was buried in your pillow as he rubbed his tip against your slit, making you moan as you squirmed your hips against his cock. He rubbed your butt as he inserted himself back into you, reaching deeper than before. You let out a scream you felt his hand smack against your ass cheek as he thrusts into you furiously. He groaned as he threw his head back when your cunt clenched around him, almost getting him stuck inside you. His hips were pistoning into you at a steady pace, going at the perfect rhythm. Your mouth was agap and drool was pooling on the side of your mouth. “Look at you. Dumb for some cock.” He scoffed, but his voice was shaky showing you he was just as fucked out as you. You whined into the pillow, hiding your face.
“Jay!” You screamed, “I’m so fucking close, please don’t stop!” His dick twitched when you raised your head to look back at him. Your face was flushed, eyes droopy, mouth parted as nothing but moans came out of it, completely fucked out to even think properly. His thrusts started getting slightly sloppy, but he tried his best to keep up. Your moans were staccato to the rhythm of his thrusts. Your chest started heaving up and down in fast breaths. “J-Jay, M’gonna cum! I’m gonna-” You were interrupted by your climax. spilling all over your thighs and his too. “Fuck!” Was the last thing Jay said before thick ribbons of his cum started filling you up as he stayed still inside of you, making you moan at the warm feeling.
Jay was leaning in your back, breathing against your ear. Both of you too gone to even speak. After you both came down from your highs, Jay slowly pulled out from you, making you whine. He stared at your pussy, watching as his cum mixed with his spilled out from you. You collapsed on the bed, breath still a bit uneven, with your eyes closed as you started feeling sleepy. Jay lays beside you with a thump, making you open your eyes to look at him. You both stared at each other before you both started laughing. Jay pulled you into his chest, embracing you, leaving a kiss on the top of your head.
You heard him take a deep breath before he spoke. “I’m sorry if I’ve been neglecting you. I never intended to do it, I promise I’ll try harder to be home earlier.” His words made you look up from his chest. “Jay, you haven’t been neglecting me. At all. I understand that you are going through something important at work, I just missed you, it’s all!” You said caressing his cheeks with your thumb. “And besides, you should know you were marrying a slut when you signed that paper.” You said, making both of you laugh. “You’re no such thing, baby.” He said laughing. “Yeah, whatever. Can we take a shower now? Your cum is drying inside of me.” “Whatever the lady wants!”
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Just read screenshots of the Aaron extra chapter and I have so many thoughts, so here they are:
It's always so funny to me to be reminded of the fact that the animosity between Aaron and Neil is mostly one-sided. Like, Neil finds Aaron frustrating, but all the antagonistic stuff he does to him is ultimately in service of helping him in some way and while he's angry when Aaron provokes him, he otherwise regards him with disinterest and even expresses the desire to see what he's like when he's relaxed and enjoying himself during the party with the Vixens. Meanwhile Aaron just really hates that man.
I really appreciated Nora using this chapter to clear up some of the gripes a lot of the fandom has had with Aaron's character in the past and confirm that Aaron's comments to Nicky have to do with his cousin making graphic and unwanted sexual advances on their teammates, and his accusations towards Neil were from a place of concern for his brother. I also liked that it was pointed out that of course he would have at least some internalized homophobia due to being raised by religious zealots in a conservative area, but is unlearning it due to Nicky.
On a similar note, I'm glad that we were provided the context that Nicky's inappropriate behavior is a defense mechanism to weed out people who might hurt him rather than legitimate advances, because I think the fandom tends to forget that he is also a character with extreme trauma written outside of the "perfect victim" stereotype. His actions aren't okay, but the entire point is that they are the result of what he's had to endure just like every other member of the team
The implication that Andrew specifically signed with the Foxes so Aaron could go to college
Aaron and Andrew have the same nervous habit of picking at loose thread
It causes me physical pain to see Andrew clearly trying to open up to Aaron about his self-harm, but because his way of communicating is less straightforward (he doesn't lie, but he because he stuggles to confront and be open with his emotions, he presents the truth in flowery, vague language) and because the two dont really know or understand each other, Aaron can't fully grasp the implications of what he's saying
On the subject of things that cause me physical pain: baby Aaron telling his mom that he wanted to be a neurosurgeon like the people on TV and her laughing and saying he'd never make anything of himself. Fuck Tilda Minyard, all my homies hate Tilda.
Andrew is so uncomfortable, someone Get Him Out of There.
Going off that and his nervous habits (that Aaron mentions he did often enough to be noticable as a habit premedication), I am highkey wondering if the reason Sober Andrew doesn't talk to anyone outside Neil is because he's just. Socially Awkward.
We get a little bit of insight into Andrew's "misogyny" (I personally think distrusting certain people as a result of extreme personal trauma is a little bit different than just being sexist, in the same way women distrusting men because they're used to being harassed and belittled isn't misandry, but that's up to your personal opinion) and that his distain for Katelyn comes from the fact that he thinks she's stringing Aaron along and will turn out to be awful like his previous girlfriends (there's also a notable implication that Aaron has the same self-destructive tendencies as Andrew, and may be why he went out of his way to get him into college and on the straight-and-narrow) also see that this extends to Bee as well despite their close relationship, with him being so afraid that she'd reject him for being gay that he can't even look at her while talking about Neil, probably made worse by the fact that she's a maternal figure for him, which is where this trauma response originates.
Aaron is the only person on the team who's aware that Andrew hasn't slept with Neil, and the only one to grasp the significance of the fact that they've gotten close to that point already despite Andrew's trauma, outside of Renee
It was overall really interesting to see inside Aaron's head (I actually wouldn't mind a book from his perspective, he has a similar way of thinking to Neil but much more grounded) and to see Andrew through the lense of someone who just views him as Just A Guy
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darkestcorners · 30 days
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polarity | 06 yandere!jungkook au ( sneak peak )
A/N : I decided to post this little sneak tonight since you guys have been waiting so so long. This is not edited yet so please excuse any grammar errors. Thank you💕 :)
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“No secrets? I-I know what you did.” You accused in between sobs, your hands planted firmly on the floor as you shifted your body weight towards your right leg that left you in an awkward sitting position. It was hard to ignore the chills running down your entire body, your mind struggled to focus on what you wanted to scream at him.
He turned his head to look down at you. His penetrating gaze meeting yours at last.
“I know that you were the one that made my professor accuse me of plagiarism.” You said after another intake of breath. “ You did it, didn’t you? You blackmailed him! Just like you did to me. Just like you do to everyone in order to get your way. I don’t know with what but you did.”
He was silent. Just quietly looking at you.
Your short breaths only quickened, the horrible feeling coming in waves, stopping then gaining more force. You felt like you were stuck in a mid fall. It felt like years passed before Jungkook slowly made his way over to you, your eyes traced over the slight twitch of his fingers and cubic steel bracelet around his wrist. He bent down to your level and you felt his fingers lifting your chin up at him. You knew he could feel you shaking because he angled your face towards him again when you tried to look off to the side, his set gaze halting your rapid eye movements.
“Seems like a little birdie has been talking.” He whispered to you, he almost sounded disappointed. “That just won’t do, baby.”
You felt the sudden urge to slap him but you went to push him away instead. He caught your arms before you could do so, pushing them towards his chest and pulling your whole body closer to him. His actions were rough and careless. An indicator of just how much you’ve pissed him off this time. You could feel your teeth chattering now, your panic attack reaching its peak as you felt your vision blur. It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice all over you except you wished someone actually had just to rid you of this feeling.
“You know she’s right, you know I’m right. That’s why you’re so upset.” You went on as you squirmed in his hold.
“How easily you’ve forgotten what she’s done to you. Is it that easy to fool you, baby? Does that bitch really have such a tight hold on you still that you that you accept her words as truth without question?” He sounded a parent scolding a small foolish child over taking sweets from a stranger.
He was wrong. Your once all-consuming love for Eunji had turned into a grudge that you couldn’t shake off. She might’ve been a horrible friend but why would she lie about something like that? It seemed too specific. It seemed like she knew more than she was willing to admit and for some reason that only angered you more. She knew more yet she had given you crumbs in return. Was that the plan all along or was she making you a victim of her selfish bitterness again? Even after everything, it was hard for you to believe she hated you that much.
Because you had seen it. You had seen a fragment of sincerity in her eyes earlier. A small piece of pity, no matter how fleeing.
“Ask your little boyfriend what he was doing walking into Professor Clark’s classroom a few weeks ago.”
You swore you had heard it in her voice too. As if she had been doing you one last favor. Granting you one last bit of kindness for all those years spent together being thrown away. But the more you ponder over it, the more Jungkook’s planted seed of doubt began to grow its roots. Had you only seen what you had hoped to?
“You accuse me of lying to you over some gossip your little fake friend filled your head with? It didn’t take long for you to go running back into her arms, did it? Where is your pride?” The disgust in his voice would be hard to fake and you had to look away from the sheer sincerity in it.
“I didn’t run back to her! I wanted answers and-"
“And did you find them?” He cut you off, eyes searching your face like something in it had already granted him the answer. “No, of course you didn’t baby. You let her have the last laugh again.”
Again.
“How would she know to make that connection and why would she lie about her seeing you walk into our professor’s classroom weeks ago.” You hissed back at him eagerly grasping to take control of the conversation that he had so easily overpowered in seconds.
God, you really couldn’t breath.
“Do you hear yourself? You’re asking me why a girl that has been jealous and spiteful towards you for years would try and scheme against you for sleeping with her ex-boyfriend! ” Jungkook sneered back and you flinched at the sudden raise of volume in his voice.
“Lying comes as easily as breathing to some. Haven’t you learned that by now? You really are more naive than I thought if you have yet to realize how unkind this world is and how often people like you get trampled over.”
You let out another quivering sob, growing more and more upset by his words. You might be naive but you weren’t that naive to not realize that he wasn’t the one who should be saying this to you. Him of all people. It felt like a stab in the chest. Jungkook lets go of your arms and brings them to cradle your face in his hands instead. His thumbs wiping away your never ending tears. His action is meant to be gentle but his grip is so tight that you feel his nails digging slightly into your skin.
“I’ve only ever tried to protect you, baby. Protect you from her and from yourself.” His hot breath sent waves of shock through you, you felt his lips lightly graze your own. “How many times must I save you from her? And from everyone who has ill intentions towards you before you realize it’s only ever going to be me.”
He lifted one hand from your cheek to carress your hair, those glossy doe eyes pulling you in and tugging at the invisible strings on your limbs and heart.
“How many times must I prove my love to you?”
This wasn’t love. It couldn’t be.
It felt like something much stronger. Much too different. Your love for Eunji had never felt this overwhelming. It never felt like you were being lulled to a perfect sleep, just to be suddenly plunged into a free fall. This didn’t feel anything like a secret held close to your chest, your heart skipping a beat everytime you used to see her even when you’d already seen her three times before that day. How giddy you felt at her accidental touches. How much you seemed to please her and never wanted to see her in pain. How easily it came to you to want to fix all her minor inconveniences.
No, this felt nothing like that. It wasn’t a secret. It didn’t allow itself to be. It was too loud. Too ugly. Whatever you had felt for Eunji, it felt five times more heightened with Jungkook. His presence felt like too much yet like there was never enough of it to actually violate you. It fit you in a way you were so frightened to admit. He had taken a piece of you that you never agreed on giving him. Yet it was that very foreign feeling that had you craving him in moments you shouldn’t have. In nearly all hours of a day. You were frightened at what you had been feeling these past two weeks sharing his space. Completely terrified at what he had managed to make you feel for him in such little time .
Even now, he felt so familiar yet so untouchable.
“This isn’t love.” You replied back in a broken whisper. It was mistake and you realized it quickly but it was too late to take it back. You blamed your overly emotional state for the thoughtless response.
A few beats of silence passed with only your uneven breaths filling the room. Jungkook continued to caress your hair before the corners of his lips twitched. An almost sad small appearing on them.
“Fine.” Another few beats of silence. The heavy air lingered.
You licked your dry lips as he retrieved his hand completely from you. Your eyes tracked the movement before they landed on the unreadable look on his face.
“ If you think I’m such a monster, I promise I will show you how easily I can make that come true for you. ” He stated lowly, dark eyes taking in your features again. “And it will make everything else I’ve done pale in comparison.”
—-
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keigosdear · 4 months
Text
{bad idea... right? - kuroo t.}
yes I know that he’s my ex, but can’t two people reconnect?//…I just tripped and fell into his bed.
kuroo x fem!reader smut. exes to lovers. 18+ MDNI please.
in which you and your ex "reconnect" after almost half a year apart, but with so many unresolved feelings, it'll either end up being the best or worst idea you've ever had.
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warnings: fem!reader, no physical description (aside from specific genitalia ofc). university setting. smut, mentions of alcohol/getting drunk but no drunk sex, lots of feelings/kinda mutual pining. praise kink, a little bit of voice kink, very brief jealous reader, cunnilingus, body worship, teasing, lots of pet names in lieu of y/n, soft dom!kuroo and sub!reader, very. very. soft, kinda emotional sex, aftercare and fluff towards the end. porn with a bit of plot/build up. this fic is my baby.
a trope I never thought I'd write plus a genre I've never written before? apparently so. it's my first time writing smut, so constructive criticism is welcomed, being rude is not. can you believe I started this over the summer ‘23 and I'm only posting it now?
and lmk if I need to add anything else to the warnings :)
divider credit to: @/cafekitsune
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
this truly had the potential to be one of your worst ideas yet.
you weren't even going to be at this damn party to begin with, but your friend finally convinced you to go with her after a week of wearing you down.
"it'll be fun, c'mon!" she begged.
the only reason you didn't want to go was because you were finally done with your first semester of classes and wanted to wind down in peace, not at a crowded house party filled with loud music and sweaty drunk university students.
but of course you relented when she pulled out the puppy dog eyes and played the "but we haven't hung out in months, I miss you!" card.
so there you were by the snacks and refreshments table, dressed up and nursing a drink, talking and laughing with your friends. truthfully, you were having a better time than you thought you would and figured that you had almost a month before classes started back up again to relax.
"soooo? has anyone caught your eye yet?" multiple faces focused their attention on you.
you knew part of the reason your friend had insisted on you going with her was to help you meet someone. she'd never admit it, but it was pretty obvious with the way she was pointing out people left and right, making note of how attractive they were. at one point she had even "accidentally" pushed you into one of her targets, which had made for some very awkward small-talk on your end with someone you had zero interest in and some giggling from her.
it's not that you were opposed to the idea of finding someone, but in all honesty, no one had caught your eye. recently you had gotten out of a long long term relationship, and starting over after that just seemed so... unappealing to you.
it also seemed unfair to start anything new when you were very much not over him. breaking up in the middle of the semester had made it really easy for you to push down any emotions and throw yourself into your studies. but it didn't change the fact that you missed him. even now, the party acted as a good distraction for you.
or so you thought.
you were about to respond when your phone buzzed. you looked down and your heart leapt into your throat when you saw the contact name.
it felt strange seeing it as "kuroo" rather than some version of his given name or a pet name. once you hit the one minute mark of just staring at the text notification in shock, your friend peeked over your shoulder and gasped a little.
"you didn't block him?!"
you snatched your phone out of her hand after she stole it to show your group of friends.
"why would I? it's not like we hate each other."
and it was true- you both ended amicably (though very reluctantly). you only ever wanted the best for each other, and while it was sad, you realized that at this point in your lives with how busy you both were, you weren't able to offer that anymore.
you’d rather this than end things resenting each other.
still, it was a hard pill to swallow, so for now you were just holding it on your tongue, letting the bitter taste of the coating settle instead.
she frowned. "well yeah, but-"
you cut her off before she could bring up the very emotions you were ignoring in that moment and shoved your phone back in your pocket. "c'mon, let's go dance!"
later, though, when you excused yourself to the bathroom, the first thing you did was down your second drink and read the text.
hey.
do you want to come over?
you stared at the messages for another minute, reading and re-reading them over and over again before sighing. being with him for years meant you knew him like the back of your hand, and he wasn't one for casual hook ups or one night stands. you hadn't even heard from him in a few months- this was the first bit of contact you'd had with him since you cleaned out your drawer of clothes at his place.
which meant he was either drunk and missing you or someone was playing a prank and you'd just end up a fool.
seriously weighing the options in front of you, trying not to let your emotions overpower your decision making, you attempted to think about the long term consequences of going over.
no matter how you spun it, it sounded like a bad idea. even if he did send the texts, there was no guarantee he wanted anything out of it.
but you were too tipsy for logic at that point in the night, and if you were being honest with yourself, you were in need of some excitement.
yeah.
I'll send my new address.
wait, he moved?
despite being together for so long, the two of you never ended up living together, opting for dorms and student houses with friends. still, you did spend a lot of time at his old place, and before the breakup you had even talked about the possibility of moving in together after the current school year was done.
you didn't linger on the sour feelings that brought up and instead decided to let your friends know you were leaving. when they asked where you were going, you spun some lie about not feeling well and wanting to head home before you got worse. you didn't really care if they believed you or not.
checking the address he had sent you once more, you made your way out of the house and were pleasantly surprised to realize it wasn't that far of a walk, especially since you were wearing uncomfortable party shoes.
you sipped on the bottle of water you swiped form the refreshment table and tried to sober up a bit more before seeing him. you weren't a hundred percent sure what would happen once you got there, but it was a good idea to be prepared for anything.
eventually you made it up to his apartment, which was in another student housing building off campus, bigger than his old place, and took a moment to compose yourself.
there was still time to turn back and make an excuse for why you bailed.
there was still time to think it through.
there was still time to save yourself from the possibility of more pain.
you took a deep breath and knocked on the door anyway.
not even five seconds later, the door was opening and you were face to face with your ex boyfriend.
you took him in for the first time in months- really took him in. sure, you'd seen his instagram posts since breaking up, but you could only zoom in so far on those. and fine, maybe your friends had tried to set you up with people they had deemed "much hotter", but you never saw the appeal. you couldn't even remember any of their faces in that moment, because kuroo was right there.
his hair was the same as always, slightly messier than usual, exactly how it looked whenever he (or you) would run his hands through it on a particularly stressful day.
had he been stressed about the text? did he regret it?
he was dressed somewhat casually, in a dark red shirt you recognized as part of a birthday gift you gave him one year (you had always liked the colour red on him). he was wearing black sweatpants and his socks were mismatched.
everything about him was familiar, and you hated the way a feeling of ease settled over you when he finished his own analysis of you and gave a boyish, almost giddy grin. "hi."
his voice was warm and gave you butterflies. there was an undertone of excitement in his greeting and it quelled your worries about him regretting the texts.
you decided to smile back, though somewhat shyly (which you inwardly scolded yourself for), and spoke up. "hi."
he didn't let the silence that followed settle into awkwardness. he opened the door a bit wider, and welcomed you in. ever the gentleman, he took your coat and and helped you balance as you took your shoes off. you tried to ignore how warm and gentle his touch was, how it made you immediately crave more.
you made your way into the living room and took everything in. there were empty cans and shot glasses littered across the room, mostly concentrated on the coffee table. you thought you heard him swear under his breath when he looked at the mess as well.
"did you have a party?" you asked, now close enough to smell a bit of alcohol on him.
he shook his head and looked a bit embarrassed. "ah, no..." he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and sighed. "my roommates went out with some friends tonight and decided to pre-game here. I went back to my room before they left because I didn't feel like drinking too much and assumed they'd clean up a bit..."
you nodded in understanding. "wishful thinking, huh?"
he chuckled. "yeah, guess so," he said, then gestured to an empty spot on the couch. "sit, I'll just get some of this out of the way quickly."
"oh, I can help-" you tried to offer but he waved you off.
"don't worry about it. I'm the one who invited you into a sloppy apartment, you shouldn't have to clean up a mess that isn't yours."
you snorted and watched as he shoved a ton of cans into the decorative waste bin by the sofa and took some glasses to the sink in the kitchen. "says the one who's cleaning up a mess that isn't his."
you heard him laugh at your words and the butterflies erupted in your stomach again. you hadn't realized how much you missed that sound. suddenly your mind wandered back to the reason behind his invitation. you'd be alone tonight?
once he returned from the kitchen and sat down next to you, you talked for a bit. he caught you up on the moving situation (him and a few friends found an opening for the second semester, so they decided to jump on it and try to stay until grad, hopefully. he made a joke about trying to make friends with the landlord). you listened closely, trying not to make it obvious you were hanging off his every word.
when he was done, you caught him up on your life and how you were at a party when he texted. he apologized for interrupting and you told him a little too fast not to be, which he seemed pleased with.
after a while, he asked if you wanted to watch a movie. you agreed, though you were starting to get impatient. you knew he wasn't the type of guy to ever expect anything from anyone, but the curiosity was eating you alive. you couldn't help but finally ask him about it halfway through the movie.
"hey... why did you invite me tonight?"
he didn't seem surprised by your question, which told you he was probably expecting it. (it was silly of you to think he couldn't tell when something was on your mind after years together and only months apart.)
he took a deep breath in and looked down at his lap. while he didn't look outwardly nervous, you knew him well enough to know what his tells were. he picked at a thread on his pants, trying to compose himself before dropping the bomb.
"because I missed you." he looked you in the eye and then continued. "a lot. and you can take that however you'd like. I'll let you decide."
you blinked at him. he'd let you decide? the way he said it implied that he missed you, missed you. not just missed having you in his life, not just as a friend- he missed you.
you would be nothing but a liar if you said you hadn't missed him too. and you knew that the feeling of security and familiarity you experienced earlier wasn't just nostalgia or your own unresolved feelings. if that were the case, you wouldn't be feeling this comfortable on the couch with him. you wouldn't be able to pretend things were normal between you as easily as you had been all night.
kuroo still very much felt like home, and you didn't want to let him go ever again. there was only one way for you to take his declaration.
"can I..." you looked into his eyes and tried not to drown in them. "can I kiss you?"
he looked relieved at your words and eagerly nodded. "please."
you leaned forward and feverishly crashed your lips against his as soon as the word left his mouth. he raised one hand to cup your cheek and pulled you closer to him by your thigh with the other, not once breaking away from you.
soon you were straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck, quiet noises releasing into the air around you both. you moved a hand up the back of his neck, into his hair, and he groaned slightly into your mouth.
you giggled into the kiss, happy to see you still knew what got him going.
as if either of you could forget- it was muscle memory at that point. just like you'd never forget how to ride a bike, you'd never forget how to make the other feel good.
eventually you both had to pull away and fill your lungs again, but you were close enough that your foreheads touched and your breaths mixed.
it was quiet aside from some light panting, so you decided to break that silence with a confession of your own. "I missed you too, tetsurou. so much."
now, you weren't sure if it was what you said or how you said it, but as soon as the words left your mouth, you felt something hard pressing against the area between your legs and gasped a little.
your eyes opened and you pulled your face away just enough to look at him properly. your eyes met his and his face was tinged pink. "I- I'm sorry... we don't... if you don't want to..." he mumbled, not sure how to gage your reaction to this sudden development.
you kissed him again, softer this time to reassure him, and smiled a bit when you pulled away. "I want to, tetsu."
he let out a relieved sigh and smiled at you in turn, then glanced over at the door. "I have no idea when they'll be back... do you want to continue this in my room?" his eyes slowly and hopefully made their way back to yours.
you nodded and squealed a bit when he suddenly scooped you up in his arms, smile growing wider as he made his way to his bedroom.
and that’s how you got here- cutting to when he gently sets you down on the bed, and you scoot back a bit to lay down comfortably. quickly following, his body covers yours and he begins kissing you again.
your arms instinctively move, one wrapping around his broad shoulders, the other cupping his cheek as you move your lips against his. his own hands, now free due to the fact that he’s propped up on one of his forearms, caress your waist and the the top of your head respectively.
after a few minutes of him focusing on your lips, he starts making his way down your neck. they’re feather light kisses at first to make you giggle, but eventually he finds the sensitive spot he always loved to mark up and the sweet sounds turn into shallow, shuddery breaths.
you whine as soon as he starts sucking on it and you bring your hand up from his cheek to his hair. "mmn... tetsu..."
he pulls away just enough so that you can still feel his lips against your flesh as he trails them up your neck to hover just over your ear. "you have no idea," he breathes out, voice low and far more erotic than you think he intended, "how much I've missed this."
you shudder and turn your face away at the tingly sensation, but the hand on your waist darts up to tilt your chin back in his direction. one thing you always appreciated about kuroo was how tenderly he handled you, no matter the tone of your late night endeavors. he was always gentle with you- not in a way that made you feel fragile, but rather in a way that told you he truly cared for you, treasured you, adored you.
the idea that this is still the case turns you on even more and makes your brain go a bit fuzzy.
when your eyes met his once more, you could see that adoration pooling in them. “look at me, sweetheart.”
you nodd slightly in his firm, yet still very soft grasp and keep your eyes trained on his. you could feel yourself getting wet as they trail over your face, and you swear your entire body feels warm as he gives you a rare type of smile only reserved for times like these.
he leans in to kiss you again and his hand moves from your face to toy with the lower hem of your dress. “you look absolutely gorgeous in this, baby, but do you think can we take it off?” he’s still speaking in the low, sultry tone that always drives you wild- you’re certain that you’d do anything he asked of you with that voice.
you sit up a little and move to unzip the dress, but he takes your hands and gives you a look. “ah ah- let me, pretty girl, you don’t have to move a muscle.”
it’s almost jarring how easily you both fall back into it. as soon as your dress is off, his shirt follows and he’s back to hovering over you. it really feels as though no time has passed since your last time with him.
just more proof that this is right.
he wastes no time in ridding you of your bra and himself of his shirt before pushing you back down onto the bed.
the room is once again filled with sounds of soft moans and gasps as he kisses your chest and takes one of your nipples into his mouth. he alternates between swirling his tongue around it and sucking. kuroo didn’t let your other breast go unattended for long, though, as he begins teasing the hardened bud with his fingers.
“aah, tetsu… please…” you gasped out.
the man on top of you chuckles, and in between switching sides he looks at you from under his eyelashes. “still so sensitive, hm? it’s cute.”
you resist the urge to hide your face and instead opt for throwing your head back when he suddenly sucks on the other nipple.
heat continues to build inside of you until he eventually he trails his kisses down the valley of your breasts, across your ribcage and down to your tummy. he spends a little extra time there, and you have to gently tug on his hair and whine about him taking too long for him to break away from your skin.
“let me worship you, angel. missed your body so much.” his voice is barely audible, the words murmured as though he was in a trance. you feel your pussy clench around nothing at his confession and bite back a whimper.
his lips curl upwards while pressed against your stomach and his eyes flicker up to meet yours. “keep your eyes on me, baby. don’t ever want to be away from you again,” he commands.
he rests his chin on your pubic bone and traces the elastic band of your panties with two familiar fingers. “you wore my favourite.”
heat rushes to your face and you do turn away this time, but he makes a disapproving noise you’re all too familiar with. “sweetheart, what did I just tell you?”
you bite your lip and force your eyes back to his.
he rewards you with a tender kiss to your belly and a “there’s a good girl, knew she was in there…” before he pulls your panties off.
you grow nervous, though you know you don’t need to be with him, and close your legs. his eyes soften significantly at the action. you're not sure why exactly the nerves get to you now of all times, especially considering how much you like his stricter side, but they do and he sees it.
he drops the strict act and rubs reassuring circles to your inner thigh. you've always preferred your softer sessions, anyway. “hey, it’s alright. I’m gonna take good care of you… missed my girl so much, just want to make you feel good, okay? we’ll save that for another time. it’s just you and me now, baby.”
you nod and a wave of calm washes over you at the reassurance. you let him pry your legs apart and gasp as he dives in.
he starts with wet kisses working their way up your thighs, to your slit and then up to your clit before he takes the bud into his mouth and sucks on it. you let out a soft moan and buck your hips into his face.
"mmn," he pulls away for a second and holds your hips down. "don't thrash, princess, just let me do all the work."
and he does. once he really gets into the groove of eating you out, you're a mess on his bed- legs shaking over his shoulders, cunt clenching around his tongue and whimpering out little thank you's when he makes you cum for the first time that night.
but he doesn't stop there. "tastes so good, baby, need more," he says in between licking your juices from your folds. "c’mon, just one more. you can do it," he picks up the pace again, and before you know it you're begging for more, too.
"tetsu- ah~!" you moan when he exchanges licking for sucking on your still sensitive clit again. you feel like you're on fire as he draws you closer and closer to reaching your second high.
you tangle your hands in his hair and he groans, sending vibrations throughout your core. you cry out and arch off the bed, spilling into his mouth.
this time when he pulls away, he slithers back up your body and kisses you. "see how good you taste, baby? best in the world, haven't I always told you that?"
your stomach twists from the praise and you turn your head to the side bashfully, trying to stabilize your breathing. he holds himself up above you and strokes your cheek with his knuckles, watching you fondly. it does nothing but make you more dizzy with affection.
when you've calmed down enough, he whispers "do you still want to-"
"yes." you cut him off and he chuckles.
"okay baby," he crawls off of you and reaches for his nightstand. he opens the drawer and-
your stomach sinks when you see an open box of condoms. the thought of him being with other girls makes you feel green with envy which you suppose isn’t fair considering you’ve been broken up for months, but you’re still a little fuzzy and too high on your own emotions right now to care.
he looks between you and the box and immediately catches on when an unexpected tear falls from your eye.
“oh, baby no-“ he takes one from the box and quickly returns to your side. “I haven’t been using these,” he cups your face and strokes his thumb under your eye.
“you haven’t?” you sniffle and he shakes his head right away.
you pout. “but then-”
kuroo cuts you off with a roll of his eyes. “one of my roommates got them for me as a joke for my birthday. I only opened them because he kept asking to borrow them.”
you digest his words and slowly look up at him. he’s already looking at you and you can’t keep your eyes from watering some more. the thought of him being intimate with someone new when you’ve spent the past few months rejecting everyone your friends forced your way.
“I haven’t even looked at anyone else since we broke up,” he murmurs against your hairline. “missed you too much.”
you nod, finding no traces of dishonesty on his features. “I haven’t been with anyone either… I wasn’t over you. I didn’t want to be,” you admit, voice soft.
he smiles and presses kisses from your scalp down to your cheeks. “such a sweet girl I have, hm? how about you help me out here?”
he tugs off his sweats and your attention is drawn to the tent his boxers. you bite your lip and reach for the band but he takes your hand and places the condom on your palm.
you blink up at him, confused. “you don’t want me to-“
he shakes his head and tugs his boxers down. his cock springs free and you gasp a little at the sight of his tip- red and smeared with pre-cum.
“no, angel, I need to be inside of you. just help me put it on.”
you make quick work of tearing the wrapper off and rolling the condom over his length. he groans at the feeling of your knuckles grazing his skin, but as soon as you pull away he’s flipping you on your back and lining himself up against your entrance.
he knocks his forehead against yours. “ready, baby?”
you nod and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. he leans down for a kiss and slowly pushes into you as your lips connect.
you whine a little at the stretch and he pauses everything. “you’re okay,” he reassures you, giving you time to adjust.
you nod when you feel ready for him to keep going and he bottoms out with a strangled moan. “you’re unreal, you know that?”
his praise pulls a giggle from your throat but it quickly turns into a breathy sigh when he starts moving.
he starts off slow, but soon enough you’re both lost in the moment and his pace picks up. within the next few minutes, his room is filled with sounds of pleasure and sweet words exchanged between lovers.
“you’re perfect,” he says, angling his lips closer to your ear. his hips stutter when you clamp around him at his words.
his thrusts reach deep enough to get you crying out for him. “tetsu, faster! please!”
“ah- there’s a good girl, love hearing you beg for more.” he nibbles the spot just below your ear, soothing it with his tongue.
“I love you,” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders.
kuroo groans at the sensation and goes a bit harder. “you needed this just as bad as I did, hm? it’s okay, I’ve got you now, pretty girl. just relax.”
you hide your face in his neck and try to stifle your moans, but he doesn’t appreciate that one bit. “stop that, let me hear you,” he commands and you immediately pull your head back.
he grins down at you and kisses your nose. “sound so pretty when you’re falling apart on my cock, you know better than to hide those noises from me.”
you nod and find yourself unable to look away from his face, as if you were in a trance. he’s absolutely gorgeous on top of you- why would you want to look away?
“you close, baby?” he asks after your walls tighten even more.
“mmhm,” you whimper and lean up for a kiss.
“me too,” he whispers and tugs one of your hands away from his shoulder. he intertwines your fingers and presses is above your head against the pillow. “needed this just as badly as I did, hm? it’s okay, I’ve got you, baby.”
doing so good for me.
you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.
you feel so fucking good, princess.
all of his praise sent shockwaves throughout your body and soon enough you’re tipping over the edge. your back is arched, head thrown back and a loud cry of his name is drawn from you as you cum for the second time.
he follows soon after and you feel his whole body shudder when he spills into his condom.
your breaths mix together as you both come down from your highs. it’s quiet for a few moments before he carefully pulls out and disposes of the soiled contraceptive in the trash next to his bed. he rolls back into bed, facing you.
he strokes your cheek with his knuckles and smiles at you when you open your eyes and turn to face him as well. “hi pretty girl, you okay?”
you take a deep breath and curl into his chest. you still feel slightly too light and any thoughts not related to him are muddled. you’re overcome with an intense wave of affection for him.
he must notice, because when you manage to peek up at him again, he snorts. “yeah, I don’t know what I was expecting.”
he knows better than to try and leave the bed right away (memories of you whining and clinging to him when he did attempt it early on in your relationship flash through his mind and he smiles), so instead he wraps his arms around you and presses kisses to your hairline.
you savour the familiar feeling of being wrapped in his arms and nuzzle into his bare chest. the most comfortable feeling in the world.
eventually he does get up to grab a damp cloth and some water, and he informs you that you can use his bathroom for whatever you need.
you’re both following the same routine you had when you were together as if you hadn’t broken up at all.
now that you’ve regained some clarity, you start to worry about what exactly that means.
you’ve both admitted to missing each other like crazy, but you assume you’ll need to have a serious conversation with kuroo about whether or not you should get back together.
you ponder over this on his bed for a bit longer before he interrupts your thoughts. “we don’t have to talk about it right now,” he starts. “we can talk about it tomorrow morning if you would prefer, but…”
he pauses like he’s not sure if he should continue. you nod encouragingly, curious as to where this is going (thought you think you know). “but I meant absolutely everything I said tonight. um, before and while we were… uh. busy.”
you giggle a little at his shy demeanour before considering the weight of his words. “we could talk about it tomorrow morning, but I think we both already know what we want from this right?”
he doesn’t need to nod, but he does anyway. “I definitely have an answer already.”
you knock your forehead against his. “so… are we officially back together then?”
he offers you the widest grin he’s thrown your way all night. “I think we are, sweetheart. We’ll make it work this time, I promise.”
“I promise,” you repeat.
the rest of the night is spent cuddling under covers, sharing kisses and secrets you’ve missed out on sharing these past few months.
“I love you,” you say, before you finally drift off for the night.
you don’t hear him, but he’s quick to return the sentiment. “I love you too.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BONUS:
the following morning, you wake up to your phone ringing. you groan when you see it’s your friend and realize you never texted her back last night to tell her you’re okay.
you look over at kuroo, still sound asleep beside you, and answer as quietly as possible. “hello?”
“oh thank goodness you’re alright, why weren’t you picking up? we all called you a million times!”
you check and see a ton of missed calls from more of your friends who saw you leave the party last night. “I’m sorry, I was asleep,” you say sincerely, only twisting the truth a little bit.
you feel slightly bad about it, you mentally promise her to tell her everything later.
before she can respond, your boyfriend sits up (when did he even wake up?) and says into the phone, “sorry, it’s my fault. but I promise I took good care of her,” he smirks at you.
you flinch when she shrieks into your ear. “YOU WERE WITH KUROO?!”
glaring at him, he snickers and takes the phone from you. “she’ll call you back later, we’re still catching up.”
“no, wait-“ he hangs up the phone and tosses it onto his sheets.
you pout at him. “tetsu, c’mon.”
he kisses your cheek. “I really didn’t meant for it to come off as rude, I swear. I just wanted a relaxing morning with you before you have to leave.”
you sigh and fall back into the soft comfort of his pillows. “it’s okay,” you say. “I really didn’t feel like giving her the rundown first thing in the morning, anyway. you really tired me out last night,” you peer up at him.
he laughs. “oh really? we’ve gotta build up your stamina again, pretty girl. I wasn’t lying-“ he crawls over and hovers a few inches above you. “we still have a lot of catching up to do.”
you mentally pat yourself on the back for answering his texts. definitely not your worst idea.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I swear I’ll get better at writing smut, folks 🫡
but for my first time writing it, I don’t think it’s horrible. if the ending feels a bit rushed, it’s because I’ve literally had this sitting in my drafts since miss olivia rodrigo released the music video for this song last august and I wanted it out 🙃.
tagging @nyctophilicroses bc I remember you commented on the original post I made asking abt exes to lovers with kuroo 🥹
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actuallyjustabiscuit · 5 months
Text
I’ve been dissecting Ragatha’s character with surgical tools because I am not the least bit normal about this damn doll, and something that I’ve gathered upon rewatch is how much responsibility Ragatha has been taking for Pomni’s first day. Prepare for another character analysis about everyone’s favorite confirmed girl failure
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Useless Lesbian jokes aside, it’s so interesting to me how much Ragatha cares about Pomni liking her. To the point where she believes Pomni’s terrible awful no good very bad first day has some relevance to how she thinks Pomni thinks of her.
At first I thought this was just the result of her people pleasing tendencies that needs everyone to like her for her to have any degree of self worth (no I’m not projecting, shut up), but she doesn’t seem to be this pushy about getting along with anyone else.
Another possible reason for this behavior was that she just wants to make the newcomer feel as comfortable and welcomed as possible to lessen the blow of being trapped, and she’s doing such a bad job of it that it’s making her think less of herself for failing. But here she’s specifically talking about the “horrible experience” of having to deal with Kaufmo’s abstraction.
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Here Ragatha is literally writhing in pain from glitching after getting her ass handed to her by Kaufmo and she briefly stops Pomni from leaving to get the help she needs to apologize to her about having a bad first day.
Honestly, Pomni’s awkward response to this was hella fitting.
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Like, Jesus Christ, Ragatha. Priorities girl.
When I first watched this, I thought her little apology fell under the same category as someone apologizing for hearing bad news, (y’know like a “I’m sorry your dog died” kinda thing) said in a way to express sympathy over a bad situation. But in episode 2, it really feels like she actually blames herself for what happened.
and I think I know why.
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It was Ragatha’s idea to go see Kaufmo in the first place and introduce Pomni to him. We know that she honestly believes that participating in the adventures are essential to persevering a person’s sanity. And yet she didn’t suggest to play along with the game Caine left for them. Instead, she thought it would be nice to check up on a friend who was suspiciously absent. And was, according to what Kinger told them before they left, slipping off the deep end.
I know hindsight is 20/20, but these should have been major red flags for her that Kaufmo may not have been alright and they should’ve all probably stayed away. And I think she realized that too late, which is what might’ve led to that awkward apology to Pomni in the hallway.
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Kinger is right to reassure Ragatha that Pomni doesn’t blame her for what happened (which is why she thought Ragatha was being weird for apologizing in the first place), but I imagine Ragatha is the type of person who can’t help but dwell on the “should’ve, would’ve, could’ve”s of life. So it makes sense that she would continue to take things personally. And I bet it got even worse after
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…yeah. That.
Of course, I don’t think Ragatha could’ve known that was gonna be the outcome. But she was very wary when Pomni suggested it, loudly wondering if that was even “allowed”. But she went along with it cuz it made Pomni happy.
Whelp.
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Yeah this woman’s self esteem so about to go into the negatives. Which is why I’m really hoping for a good heart-to-heart between these two. Cuz they both really need it. Ragatha especially.
I think it would really help her to know Pomni wouldn’t want her to feel like less than nothing.
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lovebugism · 1 year
Note
Hi! Could I pls request a Steve x shy!reader drabble? Maybe they’re a bit of a bookworm and they have a meet cute at a library or bookstore or something ☺️ I love your fics, and I hope you’re having a good day! 💛
i've been working on this wip for ages but i loved this request too much not to finish! thanks for being patient with me anon!
summary: steve hopeless romantic harrington meets shy!reader at a bookstore and fluffy awkwardness ensues (meet cute, strangers to lovers-ish, fluff, 2.1k)
fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)
Five hours go by like minutes, tucked away in the back of the library — your own little corner of the world. 
Because all your spare cash went to groceries and good food (and the newest Margaret Atwood novel just dropped), you hide in the back of the bookstore and get lost in the nostalgic earthy scent of the thick pages you’ve been waiting ages to read. 
You sit between the dystopian and gothic fiction aisles, back propped against the former with your knees folded to your chest, and speed-read as much as you can before closing.
The in-store café offers complimentary coffee and bagels. It’s lukewarm and a little cardboard-y, but it’s fuel nonetheless. You only get up once to use the bathroom and stretch your stiff limbs. Other than that very brief break, you’re relatively unbothered — until page 196, anyway.
“Where are the porno mags?” a male voice wonders from a few aisles down. It’s not the first voice you’ve heard all day, but it’s certainly the closest.
A feminine voice follows, nearer now. “There’s no porn, dingus. I was just saying that so you’d drive me here.”
“…That’s so fucked up.”
“You’ll get over it.”
“No, actually. I won’t. This might be the end of our friendship, now that I think about it.”
Their conversation draws closer and closer to you in time with their nearing footsteps. You figure they must be looking for a different section — certainly not the one you’ve had to yourself all day — but then they turn the corner of the aisle and stop short when they find you sitting there.
“Oh,” a pretty girl hums as she stares down at you, rouge mouth forming a softly pouted ‘o’ shape. 
Her hair is a sandy color, like a beach, and it’s chopped at her shoulders. She wears a pair of slacks and suspenders over an oversized button-up. She looks like a character from a book you wish you could write. 
She smiles down at you, a tad bit awkwardly. “Hello…”
“Shit— ” you curse, scrambling to get your legs out of the aisle. Your face burns as you bring your knees back to your chest. “I’m sorry.”
“No worries,” she shrugs and walks on by you. 
A pretty boy follows.
His hair is a really specific shade of brown — like chocolate syrup mixed with honey. It’s pushed back over his forehead, messy with intention. A few strands hang over his thick brows like they’re meant to be there. He’s got a layer of scruff on his chiseled jaw that’s a shade lighter than his actual hair. 
His wide eyes are a similar chocolate-syrup-honey color.
He’s almost annoyingly pretty. The kind of pretty that seems unfair.
“Don’t apologize to her,” the pretty boy jokes with a lopsided smile. “She’s a total bully.”
The pretty girl interjects. “Don’t listen to him. He’s an idiot. And stop bothering her, dingus— she’s obviously trying to read.”
You breathe out an awkward laugh through your nose. 
You don’t want them to think you’re actually annoyed, but you don’t have the words to tell them that. You have no idea what to say to them, actually. They’re obviously far cooler than you are, and the notion almost threatens you.
The pretty boy doesn’t follow his pretty friend. He lets her roam the aisle, obviously in search of something, and leans against the gothic fiction section across from you.
“So, uh… What are you reading?” he asks.
You don’t trust your voice to answer him verbally, lest the words get stuck in your throat and make you sound like Kermit the Frog. You flash him the dystopic, renaissance painting-esque cover with a tightlipped smile.
“Handmaid’s Tale,” he reads with a squint, then nods. “Sounds fun.”
“It’s not,” the pretty girl scoffs. She thumbs through her own copy of the book that she plucked from the shelf. “It’s the one I was telling you about on the way over.”
The pretty boy’s face screws up in disgust. “Oh. The one with gross men?”
“The one with the gross men.”
He turns back to you, looking apologetic. “Sorry, I take it back. Not fun.”
You smile wordlessly in response.
“He’s Steve, by the way,” the pretty girl says to you, nodding to the pretty boy. “I figured if he’s gonna keep weirdly hovering over you, you should probably know his name—”
“I’m not hovering!”
“—You can call him dingus if you want. I’m Robin.”
“Hi,” you greet, quiet and mousy.
“Do you come around here often?” the boy — Steve — wonders, bushy brows pinched and burly arms crossed over his chest. “I feel like I’ve seen you before—”
“Ugh. Stop flirting with her.”
“I’m asking a question!”
You purse your lips to the side in attempts to hide your smile and your gaze back to your book. 
They argue like a married couple. You wonder how long they’ve been together — six months or six years?
“Sorry about him. He’s not usually this annoying,” Robin quips with a playful twinkle in her deep ocean eye. She slams the book closed with a ringed handand walks back towards you. She pushes Steve ahead and away from you in the process. “Alright, I got the goods. Let’s go before they close.”
Your eyes widen as you look down at your wrist. 
Ten minutes until eight o’clock. 
You turn to the book once more and find that you’re about a hundred pages shy from the end of it. You tend to read like a maniac if you’re focused enough, but there’s no way you’re finishing it before closing.
“Shit…”
“You okay?” Steve asks, still lingering at the very end of the aisle, though Robin has already left for check-out.
You rise and straighten out your clothes — the very un-special sweatshirt and baggy jeans duo you’d changed into after work. It’s not unlike the navy blue henley and similarly colored denim he’s got on, but you don’t look nearly as pretty as he does.
“Yeah,” you shrug, not quite meeting his gaze as you return the book that feels like it only fits in your hands. “I just— I didn’t realize how late it was.”
You don’t expect to see Steve looking so concerned when you turn back to him. His brows are furrowed, honey eyes glinting in question. “You’re not getting it? You looked like you were almost done.”
“Oh, I don’t— I can’t…” you stammer then trail off, fidgeting awkwardly ahead of him. 
You don’t want this pretty boy’s first impression of you to be that you’re completely and utterly broke. Even if this is the last you ever see of him, you’ll only be remembered as that one girl from the bookstore who couldn’t buy herself anything. 
“I figured I could just come buy tomorrow and finish it…”
“Oh. Okay. Well, it was… it was nice meeting you, then.”
“You, too,” you murmur with a tightlipped smile, eager to get away from a moment you don’t feel very deserving of. 
Out of every girl this pretty boy could’ve chosen, why did it have to be the one in the very back of the bookstore who was too poor to get anything other than a free coffee and bagel? 
You chuck both in the bin as you head towards the exit.
The sun has almost finished setting when you leave — mostly disappeared over the skyline, but painting the sky a deep lavender shade unique to the twilight hour. You stand at the crosswalk — the man on the speaker shouting “wait!” at your side — as you anticipate the orange hand across the street to turn into a white stick figure.
“I told you she’d still be here,” a familiar voice sounds from a few paces behind you, mostly drowned out by the sounds of passing cars. A louder “hey!” follows. You only think the voice might be calling for you until it comes closer. 
“Hey!” It comes again, louder now.
You look over your shoulder and find Steve from the Bookstore striding towards you. 
Both happy and confused to see him, your wavering smile is paired with a pair of furrowed brows. “Hey…”
“Sorry, you just— you left this.”
When your eyes manage to flit away from his sculpted face — which you just noticed looks eerily similar to Michelangelo’s David — you find that he’s holding a book in his hands. Handmaid’s Tale. The same copy you were reading, dog-eared just like you left it.
Your contorted features never falter. “I didn’t…” you trail off with the shake of your head, laughing softly. “I didn’t buy that.”
“No, I know,” Steve shrugs with a crooked grin. “I did.”
You think he might be implying he bought it for you, but then you realize that’s crazy, because why would he do that for you? That’s the sort of thing that happens to girls in Brontë novels, not to you.
“Youdid?” you echo like an idiot because it’s all you can think to say.
“Yeah. ‘Cause, you know, you looked pretty interested in it and everything…”
“But you didn’t have to… You didn’t have to buy it for me—”
“It’s not a big deal. Seriously. I mean, it’ll save you the extra trip down here tomorrow, right?”
You meet his confident grin with a trembling one. “I can’t take it…”
“Well, if you don’t take it, that means I have to keep it, and—”
“He’s pretty much illiterate,” Robin calls from a little ways behind him.
She’s waiting by a pretty maroon car. It looks like a luxury model of some kind, shiny like it’s fresh off the lot. She leans against it like it’s hers, but Steve’s got the keys in his hand — the one not holding the book he bought for you.
“…I was gonna say I haven’t read anything since junior year of high school, but sure,” he concedes with a shrug. His eyes sparkle down at you— or maybe it’s just the street lamps flickering on. Either way, you feel your stomach whirling. He waves the book at you. “Take it. You’ll actually read it.”
“But…” you trail off, eyes flickering over to Robin. You step closer to Steve and lean in like you’re about to tell him a secret. “Won’t your girlfriend be upset?”
“Girlfriend?” the boy repeats with pinched brows. He goes soft with realization a second later, then starts to laugh. “No. Robin, she’s— No. She’s not really my type.”
“Oh. Shit. Sorry,” you stammer with wide eyes. 
If cool, pretty girls aren’t his type, then there’s no way in hell you are. 
Slightly comforted by his assurances, when he motions the book to you again, you take it. 
“Well, thank you, Steve. That’s… That’s really nice.”
He shrugs again. “’S no big deal. Really.”
“But I feel a little bad,” you confess quietly, peeking at him from beneath your lashes while you fidget with the book in your anxious hands. “I feel like I should give you something in return, or, I don’t know, like—”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Steve assures with the shake of his head. He swipes a hand through the chocolate-honey locks and flashes you a smile that borders on shy. “But if you wanted to go out for coffee or something sometime, then I’d be willing to call it even.”
Your cheeks burn. You don’t know if you’re breathing anymore, or if you even can. A quiet smile quirks at the corner of your mouth as you nod. “Coffee sounds good,” you answer sheepishly.
“Cool,” Steve replies coolly, like he isn’t totally beaming down at you. ��Then, just… call me whenever you’re free.”
“Oh, I don’t— I don’t have your number.”
His sneakers scuff against the sidewalk as he walks backwards to his car. He just nods at you, smiling gently as he argues, “Yeah, you do.”
Your brows furrow in confusion — because you most certainly don’t. He was a stranger to you a little more than ten minutes ago. You have no reason to have his number. 
Realization settles over you like pinpricks down your spine, butterflies in your belly. 
You open the front cover of the book and find several numbers written down at the very bottom of the cover page.
Call me when you finish, the note reads in half-legible chicken scratch. I’m not really a book guy, but I could probably hear you talk about them all day.
He signs off with his name, number, and a sloppy smiley face. 
You don’t realize you’re beaming until you already are. 
When you look back up at Steve, you find him standing at the open driver’s side door, already smiling back at you.
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