#thrilling times indeed

[heretherebedork]

Ah, the thrills of getting an email from the district superintendent saying that we will be in school tomorrow because the threshold for us is -30 with windchill and it will only be -25. Ah, Chicago.

[mc-critical]

Bonus:

2.22 (46) / 2.24 (48) / 2.25 (49) / 2.35 (59) / 2.39 (63)

[lotrmusical]

My high school did a yearly poetry recitation contest (Poetry Out Loud), so Oh Boy do I know some poems. My favorites are Ozymandias and "the world is about to end and my grandparents are in love," by Kara Jackson. Also in 8th grade we had a Poe unit and had a class contest to make the best music video of the Raven, so I still know a good chunk of that.

i hadn't heard of the kara jackson one! just read through it and enjoyed it, particularly these lines > 'grandma returns to her love like a hymn, marks it with a color. // when the world ends will it suck the earth of all its love? /will i go taking somebody’s hand, / my skin becoming their skin?'

[blueiight]

MKUltra the Vampire. im sure THAT wont be revisited later on this season

[unproduciblesmackdown]

more info, via a couple of reviews:

"Is this the best, most exhilarating, most close-to-perpetual dancing ever to grace the Goodspeed Opera House stage?

It certainly could be.

The new stage adaptation of “Summer Stock” at the East Haddam theater has plenty to recommend it in terms of the canny script and the hummable songs. But it’s the dancing that leaves the biggest impression.

The show is jam-packed with choreography from Donna Feore, who also directs, that is thrillingly executed by the cast.

We’re talking: Gravity-defying kicks. Head-spinning turns. Male dancers lifting and tossing and catching the female ones. It runs the gamut from Cossack-dance athleticism to soft shoe grace, tap precision to Lindy hop energy.

How the cast manages to sing after executing these (literally) breathtaking numbers, I have no idea.

And how do they make it through two performances on some days? Amazing.

Also amazing: the fact that they do all this on Goodspeed’s small stage without making the space feel cramped.

So, yes, the dancing is phenomenal. But there’s more to the show than that.

This stage version of “Summer Stock” — which is enjoying its world premiere at Goodspeed — is inspired by the 1950 MGM movie starring Judy Garland and Gene Kelly. Writer Cheri Steinkellner, though, has reimagined the piece in many ways, making it better, stronger and propelled by a more modern sensibility. (Steinkellner’s writing credits range from “Cheers” to the Broadway adaptation of “Sister Act.”)

The foundational story, though, remains the same: A no-nonsense young woman named Jane is trying to save her family farm. Her actress sister (named Gloria in the version at Goodspeed) brings her compatriots to the farm to rehearse a show. Jane first spars with and then starts falling for Gloria’s beau Joe, the production’s director.

Steinkellner has also changed up the score, to great effect. While some tunes from the movie remain, she has pulled others that are in the public domain (such as “Accentuate the Positive,” “Paper Moon” and “It Had to Be You”), and she has woven them perfectly into various plot points and important emotional moments.

As director, Feore makes sure the whole enterprise has a dynamic spirit. It’s a story and a production that brims with optimism and cheerfulness.

Leading the cast is Corbin Bleu, who became famous with his work in “High School Musical” and has gone on to star in several Broadway shows, as Joe. Bleu is a true, and truly talented, triple-threat. He has a warm, welcoming presence as an actor; he also brings an authority to Joe so you believe he’s someone the actors respect and will follow. Bleu’s singing is strong and lustrous, and his dancing — particularly his tremendous tap ability — is … wow.

Arguably the biggest scene-stealer here is Veanne Cox, as the wealthy, snooty owner of huge property surrounding Jane’s. The way she trills dialogue can turn anything into a punchline. She can wave her arms about as her character repeats “l’amour” and generate audience laughs. When her character falls for the egoistic actor Montgomery Leach (played by J. Anthony Crane with Barrymore flair), Cox burbles with girlish romantic giddiness.

Danielle Wade does her own take on the Judy Garland role. She gives Jane a swagger and a tough façade that reveals a more human self during the course of the story. Wade’s most important feature is her voice, which is potent whether she’s finessing a ballad or powering through a big number. While she can’t compete with Garland’s renowned version of “Get Happy” (who could?), Wade does a good job in the number — choreographed and costumed in an homage to the original — that serves as the culmination of the production.

Arianna Rosario gets to play an interesting arc at Gloria. At first, Gloria seems to be a blithe, self-centered actress, but she later shows that she is quite the problem-solving producer. Rosario makes the transformation believable, as if Gloria is finally letting her real self come through.

The scenic design by Wilson Chin suggests the various elements of a Connecticut River Valley farm in the 1950s while still allowing room for the cast to burst into all of those big dance numbers. And the costume design by Tina McCartney provides a fun and functional take on country clothing of the era.

I will say that the second act could be tightened up (we don’t need to see so many beats of the rehearsal process), but, in total, this “Summer Stock” is sensational." [source]

(hooray for most directly explaining gloria's overall arc)

and the next review:

"A throwback to the golden age of Broadway and movie musicals, "Summer Stock" is a timeless, inspiring song-and-dance tale of good deeds, fairy tale showbiz, classic romance and backstage intrigue played out to such dazzling effect, you want to freeze frame it, take it home with you and watch it over and over again for pure fun and a let's-put-a-smile-on-your-face endorsement. This is Goodspeed Musicals at its best - old-fashioned musical entertainment designed to deliver by the bucket's load, stir the senses, rhythmically intoxicate you and dance up a continual storm of good cheer that's guaranteed to leave you breathless.

Animated. Airborne. Magical. Sweet-natured. Fresh-faced. Dance happy. It's all here, wrapped up in shiny gold ribbons and signature colors that complement and complete the picture with a technicolor flourish, a big bang and an internal logic that flows with appropriate style, stamina, full command and intent.

Adapted to the stage by Cheri Steinkellner, "Summer Stock" replays that popular let's- put-on-a-show conceit where everything rests of the big opening night, the box-office intake, the big kiss between the leading man and the leading lady and how a complete unknown saves the day right before the final fadeout. Here, struggling Connecticut farmer Jane Falbury decides to let her actress sister Abigail and her actor friends from New York use the family barn as a rehearsal space for their brand-new Broadway bound musical in exchange for doing the daily farm chores to raise enough money to keep the business from going completely under. One slight problem. During rehearsals, Jane finds herself falling for the show's handsome director, Joe Ross, who, happens to be engaged to the show's leading lady - her sister Abigail.

Staging "Summer Stock," director Donna Feore ("Chicago," "Billy Elliot," "A Chorus Line"), who doubles as choreographer, creates a loveable, intoxicating show that reels you in, grabs hold of you until the final curtain and lets you fall in love with every little detail, surprise, plot twist, joke, visual gag, one-liner and tilt of her jolly agenda while she articulates every element of this musical story with thrust, warmth, spin and splendid articulation. Directorially, she pulls it off spectacularly. No wrong moves here as "Summer Stock" catches fire with a spark, a gusto, a shine and a 1950s mentality infused with plenty of imagination, originality, style and flair.  More importantly, the production never loses sight of its origins, its functional plotting and its love of musicals of yesteryear despite well-intentioned doses of kitsch, takeaway humor, giddy backchat and story arcs right out of the MGM library of backlot moviemaking.  Feore, free spirit that she is, fuels the musical with a sharpened wit and sentiment that works especially well as does her decision to let "Summer Stock" remain rooted in the period from whence it came in terms of staging, development, expression and interaction. 

Moving from screen to stage," "Summer Stock" retains only four songs from the 1950 MGM musical. The addition of several new songs to the original version of the score turns the two-act musical into more of a showstopping event and adds clarity, luster and vintage spin to its already proven material, its let's launch into another song and dance routine blueprint and its firm grasp on characterization, story evolution and its happily ever after conclusion. At Goodspeed, there are 28 important, recognizable, smartly placed musical numbers. They are:  "Get Happy," "Happy Days Are Here Again/I Want to Be Happy," "Accentuate the Positive," "I'm Always Chasing Rainbows," "Always," "Always (reprise)," "It's Only a Paper Moon," "The Best Things in Life Are Free," "Dig for Your Dinner," "Me and My Shadow," "Howdy Neighbor, Happy Harvest," "Red Hot Mama," " 'Til We Meet Again," "You Wonderful You," "June Night," "Some of These Days," "Joe's Dance," "I'm Always Chasing Rainbows (reprise)," "It All Depends on You," "Always (reprise)," "Everybody Step," "Lucky Day," "How Ya Gonna Keep 'Em Down on the Farm," "Hinky-Dinky Parlez Vouz," "It Had to Be You," "Get Happy (reprise)" and "You Wonderful You (Finale)."

Musical director Adam Souza ("42nd Street," "Cabaret," "Next to Normal," "A Grand Night for Singing," "Because of Winn Dixie," "Rags") grabs hold of the "Summer Stock" score and allows it to breathe, gesticulate, excite, envelop and rhapsodize with the golden age sentimentality of MGM movie musicals and the timeless, larger-than-life spirit of old Broadway. Here, every song matters. Every song is important. Every song travels down memory lane. Every song is tuned to the max with sweet, centered, warm-heartedness. Every song fulfills its intended purpose. All of this is complemented by the strong, flavorful sound of Souza's orchestral team, all of whom share his tremendous sense of theatricality, musical interlude, impassioned communication and delight of the actual musical itself.  They are: David Uhl (bass), Sal Ranniello (percussion), Liz Baker Smith (reed 1), Andrew Studenski (reed II), Travis Higgins III (trumpet) and Matthew Russo (trombone). As with other Goodspeed musicals, Souza doubles as conductor and keyboardist. As "Summer Stock" zings and pops, pretty music every song unfolds with a contagious orchestral musical glow, matched by the splendid musicality of the entire cast who address the catchy, homespun music and lyrics with perfect harmony, rhythm, phrasing and nostalgic commitment. These elements heighten the on-stage mode of the production, its progression from Act I to Act II, its send offs, its pastiche and its electrifying, barn-raising influence and thwack.

As with any big stage musical, choreography is key to a production's success, its fluidity of form, its artistic expression and its accompanying dance routines. Here, Feore, as choreographer, gives "Summer Stock" a highly personal touch of invigoration and speedy excitement that is tipped and generated with wonderfully elongated inspiration, stamina and determination. This is star quality choreography that peaks, shines and tilts with clever build ups, catchy dance steps and bold, concentrated rhythms, moves and beats that joyfully celebrate 1950's musicals in all their technicolor glory.   As storyteller and dance interpreter, she brings great dimension and scope to the piece using techniques, styles, descriptions and an enriched canvas of thoughts and ideas that make their mark most engagingly. Everything that happens on the Goodspeed Musicals stage has been beautifully blocked, rehearsed and staged with such thrust and individuality, no two dance numbers are alike. In fact, once "Summer Stock" catches fire, there's no stopping it.  Creating a freshly minted fusion of moods, tableaus, lifts, twirls and swirls, Feore pays homage to the actual vintage look and mindset of the musical, its dance-friendly art form and its free-flowing feel of excitement and exhilaration. Hands pop. Arms move heavenward. Dancers smile and glisten as they passionately ignite into joyful visions of sweetness, passion, frenzy and syncopation. Everyone is lost in the moment illustrating the traditions, the conscience and the power of musical theatre, giving and getting the most out of Feore's phenomenal, ovation-worthy choreography. Trained, drilled and confident, they each get a chance to shine - and shine they do - all making strong impressions that will live long in memory.

Making his Goodspeed Musicals debut, Corbin Bleu, as Joe Ross, a character originated by Gene Kelly in the 1950 film version, creates a "Wow!" song-and-dance-man factor chock full of charm, personality, self-confidence and full-beam, champagne delightness that astounds, cajoles and sparkles with leading man gait and luxury like no other. No matter what he does, he's a proverbial triple-threat (i.e., a player who excels at acting, singing and dancing) who makes everything that happens on stage feel fresh, spontaneous, real, raw and very much in the moment. It's in his eyes. It's in his moves. It's in his expressions. Exhibiting a sweet, contagious rapport that extends far beyond the footlights, it's the performance of the year and one that Bleu exudes with a Gene Kelly/Fred Astaire aura of showbiz savvy, knockabout whimsy, graceful athleticism and sterling encapsulation. "Joe's Dance," a solo dance number in Act II performed by Bleu only furthers that notion.

In the role of Jane Falbury, a role made famous by Judy Garland in the original "Summer Stock" MGM musical, Danielle Wade lights up the Goodspeed Musicals stage with a breezy, intuitive musical comedy performance of real warmth and spirit that is a constant joy to watch. Veanne Cox, cast in the role of the wickedly devious Connecticut farming magnate Margaret Wingate, is jaw-dropping brilliant, using humor, music, dance and melodrama in divinely daft and glorious ways that prompt applause and laughter whenever she's in the limelight. It's a scene-stealing performance so seamlessly entrenched in glee and fiery abandon, Cox, would be the ideal choice to play narcissistic Broadway diva Dee Dee Allen in the 2024 summer presentation of "The Prom" at Playhouse in Park in West Hartford. I'll personally deliver the contract. Other memorable performances are delivered by Arianna Rosario (Gloria Falbury), Stephen Lee Anderson (Henry "Pop" Falbury), Gilbert L. Bailey II (Phil Filmore), Will Roland (Orville Wingate) and J. Anthony Crane (Montgomery Leach). A musical escape brimming with delightful songs, engaging performances and full-beam dance numbers, "Summer Stock" is not only a bubbly tonic for theatergoers of all ages, but one that kicks nostalgia into high gear with uncomplicated bliss, fizz and vintage sparkle. It sings. It dances. It pops. It dazzles. Like "42nd Street" which played Goodspeed Musicals last season, it overflows with Kelly/Astaire lightness, punch and precision, sunny vibes and well-played exactitude. The energy displayed here is fast and furious with first-night exhilaration and thrill paired especially well with Corbin Bleu's charming star turn, Danielle Wade's joyous "Get Happy" abandon and Veanne Cox's well-prepped, icy cool villain. This is musical theatre of the highest order - infectious, irresistible, glorious. Its leave-your-troubles-at-the-door/Let's-put-on-a-show mentality accelerates with sparkle and cherry pie goodness. And boy, do we need it now!" [source]

(the reference to jane's sister abigail uses the film's names: abigail becomes gloria in this production, which is the name of abigail's actor in the film, which also mirrors how the role of herb is now phil, also the name of herb's actor in the film)

(also shoutout to providing A Full, Chronological List Of Songs. noting that according to another interview, intermission would be between "you wonderful you" and "june night")

[starlostseungmin]

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

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

I DARE YOU.

Felix x reader. (s)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink in shock. “Wait, what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine," you say, half-laughing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” you nervously greet him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?” you ask, genuinely curious. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

“That’s a relief,” he sighs. 

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

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

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

“Why not?” you ask, genuinely confused. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything cold would be nice,” he answers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sounds cooler?" he easily guesses. 

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

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

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

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

"And the kiss?"

-

Oh, no! Not this again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You move another inch. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay," you murmur, nodding. 

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

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

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

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

"Yeah," you reply, your smile returning. 

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah," you nod, feeling a bit shy. 

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

"A poem?" you stammer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, too shy to say it aloud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You innocently nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow air and say, "Yes." 

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

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

“Why won’t you look at me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now, it's perfect," he whispers. 

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you answer with a small smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least, for now.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

-

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[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ Deer in headlight ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : You've been in the hotel for a while now yet one mistery you never uncovered, where that ears atop his head or hair? So you made it your mission to touch them and figure out if they are indeed ears.. and maybe a discover a matching tail to the ears?

Pairing : Alastor x Reader

Word count : 3025 Words

Genre : Fluff, Slightly suggestive near the end

Warnings ➵ Possessive and out of character Alastor

Part 2 -> < Like a deer in headlight >

a/n : I wanna pat his head and ears so badly, they look so fluffy and when they move around and are pressed to his head? I'm crying-

Also I wasn't able to find that scene as a gif so I made it myself `^` Why that scene? Bcs his ears layed back on his head look absolutely adorable!

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

It's bugging you. Keeping a watching gaze on those fluffs atop a certain red-haired head, while you sat at the bar beside Angel who was in a conversation with Huskers, which you don't pay any more attention to. You were drawn in by the man sitting on the couch so carelessly while reading a newspaper.

They had to be ears right? They did move depending on his mood, even if not a lot.. But maybe it was also just his hair and not ears? If it were ears did he also have a tail? Ears and tail would make sense, seeing how he from time to time had smaller or bigger antlers atop his head, especially the big ones in his demon form.

"Are you even listening sweets?" Angels face appeared in front of your own now, twitching together a slight bit of surprise, your head turns to the two demons now and away from a certain deer demon. "Sorry.. I was spacing out a slight bit." You apologize to Angel now, Husk raising an eyebrow as he and Angel had noticed where your attention was diverted to. "Figured sweets, looked like you were eating smiles up with you eyes." Angel sends you a smirk, but you immediately start to shake your head, this wasn't what Angel was having on his mind right now. "I was wondering.. are those ears?" A gasp could be heard from Husk, Angel looking over his shoulder now to analyze Alastor's ears. The white spider was humming a bit, as he was debating whether they were ears or not, but Husker was already looking at you bewildered. "Don't even dare try anything, the last person to try and touch them was dead before they even got close." Now this was beginning to sound interesting, was Alastor this strange about it? If it was hair he wouldn't mind that much right? Well aside from the fact that he overall didn't enjoy being touched if it didn't come from his side or was allowed by him. But if they were ears.. were they sensitive? Was that why he didn't want anyone to touch them and.. did he have a matching tail? A cute little fluff of a deer tail?

Husk saw the gears in your head turning and speeding up, he grabbed both your cheeks as he turned your face to his, his eye staring into yours. "Don't you dare think about anything stupid, do you hear me?" Rolling your eyes, you pushed his hands away. Even though he was grumpy most of the time, you and Husk liked the company of one another, you two were quite good friends by now, so it made you a bit happy how he warned you and worried. But.. it was just thrilling to know, too noisy for your own good. "He won't kill me Husk, I'm his favorite!" Jumping from your seat, Husk lets out a groan, as you stride over to Alastor who is still busy reading the newspaper.

"Alastor! I got a question!" Jumping on the couch beside Alastor, you turn your body to him fully, one leg under you as your arm rests on the backside of the couch. Folding his newspaper together again, he lays it on the coffee table before looking at you. "Well of course my dear, go on ahead and ask whatever your heart desires to know!" He was talking and acting like a gentleman, giving you his full attention the second you addressed him and sat down beside him. "I was wondering for a while.. are those ears or is that your hair?" You were now pointing at his head, a smile still evident on his face, yet it somehow strained the slightest bit with irritation at your question. Huskers in the back was probably already fearing for your life. "Oh my dearest what a straightforward question, but I do fear I cannot answer you this. But do not worry your pretty little mind, maybe someday you will know." A soft pat was on your head, as the radio demon got up and made his way who knows where in quick strides.

"Oh no.. I know that face." Huskers was going crazy right now, the face you were making was one he knew oh so well, one that screamed > the game is on, I will win <. You were going to make this a game for sure, Husker was just praying the hotel would not be destroyed afterward.

The first thing now was to figure out if they really were ears, because if they were, you were so going to extant this self-proclaimed game of yours, to touching them.

"Oh Niffty my darling!" Shouting for the little psycho now, she jumps out of a room, a roach stuck on her little needle-like knife. She was a strange one no one understood, but still lovely and.. quite close to Alastor. "Niffty my dearest, you're very close to Alastor right? Do tell me, are those atop his head ears? Of course, you will get paid too for your information." Holding up a bag of alive insects and roaches, how you got them? Rather not ask, it was annoying and disgusting. Niffty was almost in an instant reaching for the bag, but you pulled it out of reach for her, reminding her what you wanted in return. "He told me how that part was sensitive and I should be careful, never told me if they were ears or not, but they have been pressed to his head a few single times when really irritated.. Now give me the bag!" Snatching the bag from you and running off with maniac-like laughter, she was crazy for sure. But did give you very useful information. Knowing the fact that he said they were sensitive, it makes you even more sure they were ears and pressed to his head when irritated? Yes, ears for sure.

Thats one check-point on your list done, now to the harder part touching them.. and figuring out if he has a tail too before he kills you for touching the ears!

Retreating to your room for now, you get out a notebook and scribble down some ideas of plans on how to touch them, but none of them seem really clever, so your notebook is quickly thrown against the wall out of frustration. A knock echoed through your room shortly after. "I heard a thump and wanted to make sure you were okay, you seem stressed.." Charlie entered your room, as you just slumped back against your pillows. Explaining to her what was bothering you, how you confirmed your theory that Alastor indeed has ears, but that you're now lost at how to be able to touch them. "You could just ask him! I'm sure a quick touch won't bother him!" Charlie was right.. If you would only take a second to touch them, just to feel them, he would agree, right? Thanking Charlie, you quickly make your way to Alastor's radio tower, this time of day he was usually busy writing his script for the following broadcast.

"Enter my dear!" His voice invited you, as he lifted his head to look at you. "What gives me the pleasure of your visit darling?" Pen still in his hand, his attention now on you though. Walking over to him, you look down at him, an unusual sight thinking of how he was normally taller than everyone and towering over them - well only exception might be Angel. "May I touch your ears? Just a second! I'll be quick!" Unnoticeable Alastor's eye twitched slightly from irritation, this topic again, you were not going to let it go, were you? "My dearest, I think I already told you to leave it, beside I never confirmed nor denied if your suspicions were correct." Head leaning on his palm now, as he was watching you, it was clear that if you were going to press on even further, he would get mad, but you didn't care. "I figured thanks to some information from someone, it won't be long! Just a soft touch! Just a second!" Now his eye twitched visibly, his hand raised and with a snap of his fingers, you were outside the door again, as you heard a click of the door being locked. Guess this didn't work.. Next plan.

Apparently, it would be harder than you thought to touch his ears. The first plan failed miserably. Currently, you are enjoying some tea with Rosie, maybe she could help you. Rosie was an old friend of Alastor, they were indeed quite close so perhaps? "Oh my dear, I have to disappoint you, our good Alastor hates getting them touched, he never let anyone near them and if, they were not able to talk about it afterward." So Rosie could also not help you, your ears peeking up now though as Rosie let out a thinking hum. "Perhaps, you could try and bribe him.. He does favor this one place in our town, it's rather expensive but, I can give in a good word for you, I do want to know how he reacts to you, his little darling touching them." Finally, some progress, though you didn't dare ask more about how Rosie had called you > his little darling < that would be for another time.

So with Rosie's help, you get his favorite meal for a good price as you make your way back to the hotel and immediately to Alastor's room. After knocking, his voice invites you in, which you gladly accept. "Oh, my dear Alastor! I got you food from your favorite place~!" In an almost sing-song voice, you announce that you got a meal for him. Now you finally saw it for the first time clearly, his ears perking up before his head turns to you with excitement. "Oh my dearest, you didn't have to!" As he was reaching out, just like before with Niffty, you pulled it out of his reach. "It wasn't cheap so.. how about as a thank you, you let me touch your ears?" The object of your current obsession now turned back, a slight scowl on Alastor's face, while still wearing his usual smile, though it was rather tight. "If that was all you wanted dearest please enjoy the meal yourself, I do not want it for those conditions." Was he for real right now? One you wouldn't eat this because.. it was in no way your preference and second you were only asking for a small touch. Rubbing them once, then you would, probably, never ask him ever again. Rolling your eyes, you push the food into his hands, you know he hasn't eaten yet, he tends to forget. "Eat it but don't think I will give up!" Storming out of his room now, his ears going back to normal, would you be behind him right now and his coat off, you would definitely see his little tail swishing from side to side.

Another failed attempt, your head now lying on Angels lap, as you both were bored in the foyer of the hotel. How could it be that no plan works? Was he despised by the idea of people touching his ears? Or maybe it hurt him? But then he wouldn't have allowed Niffty so many times to put stuff on his head and near his ears, like little self-made crowns or even flowers.

"Still no luck sweets? Maybe you should drop it, whiskers by now also absolutely going crazy worried about what your next plan will be." Angel was patting your head softly, running his fingers through your hair, your legs dangling off the side of the couch. "I really want to touch them, he just won't let me.." A small pout on your lips now, brows arched together in irritation. Over the last few days, you were breaking your head over what you could try next, but nothing really came to your mind. "Say, Angel.. your fluff is also a zone from your spidery traits, right? Would you let someone touch it?" Looking up at Angel now, he raised his eyebrows because you knew a lot of people were touching his fluff, but he figured out what you meant. "I would, because it doesn't do anything to me really, it barely tickles when someone goes too deep into it." It tickles? That was interesting, maybe Alastor's ears were also ticklish and that's why he didn't want them touched. To your surprise Angel pulled your hand to and into his fluff now, you never touched it like this. It was so soft, you bet Angel would make an amazing cuddle buddy. "See? It does nothing, but I know some others like me or smiles, who feel more on their animal traits, take whiskers for example, he wanted to cut off my hands the moment I yanked his tail once when I was drunk." You never knew that, that happened, interesting, you would definitely ask for more details of this story another time. Thinking about it now Husk would also probably not let you touch his ears or tail.

What you didn't notice was a certain demon sneaking into the hotel, watching you touch Angels fluff with stern eyes.

"Dearest!" Alastor was calling from behind you, as you made your way out of your room. "What's the matter? Do you need anything?" Alastor didn't say anything, but simply opened your door again and pushed you inside of your room, closing the door behind him. "Let's make a deal, you have to do something and in return I let you touch them." Your eyes sparking up now.. He was coming to you with a deal for touching his ears? And it wasn't for your soul?! This was probably the best day ever! "Sure whatever you want! Tell me! Now!" Your excitement couldn't be contained anymore.

"You are allowed to touch them once, in return you will never ever touch any other ones animal trait again." Huh? Your eyes blinked a few times as your brain registers his words. He asked you to never touch other's traits again? Did he mean because of you touching Angels fluff the other day? Did he see that? And why did it matter to him? Your brain was trying to puzzle together right now what this meant. "Wait.. I'm allowed to touch them once? No no no.. I'm allowed to touch them whenever I want, in return I won't touch others traits ever again." Holding your hand out with a determined expression now, Alastor's eye twitched again, but he still ended up shaking your hand, green lighting up from your hands for a second, but disappearing again after a second.

"Now.." A smirk played on your lips, as you took slow steps over to the demon, who was watching you closely. He lowered his head slightly for you to reach his head. Hands stopping an inch before his ears, fingers twitching to finally feel his ears. And finally all your advances and failed plans paid off. His ears were soft, the hair.. fur? On them soft, probably softer than his hair. They were rather warm, slightly moving against your fingers. Without thinking, you pressed a kiss against them, a gasp echoing from the demon they belonged to. Who knew all you had to do for him to agree was to slightly rile him up with jealousy?

"O-Okay! Enough!" Pulling back now, he was looking down at you again now. And what a sight he was right now. A sight you had never seen before. His face was bright red, as his ears stood tall in alert now, eyes wide and mouth despite smiling slightly agape by shock, probably of how much he actually liked it. "The deal was I could touch them whenever I wanted!" Looking at him with the best pout you could muster up now. Eye squinting a slight bit at you, before he could react, you grabbed his coat by the front, pulling him to your bed. "I will enjoy this now for as long as I want, I waited weeks and after all these failed attempts!" Fingers back on his ears now, softly running them over the fur, a cateful tug on them had the radio demon himself gasping, before biting his lip while trying to retain his signature smile. Wondering just how far you could go with this, till he might even pass out.

After hours, you finally stopped down to softly patting his hair, running your fingers through his hair. Leaning against the headboard, Alastor rested his head on your shoulder, visibly tired from you toying with his ears, now enjoying the contrast of your soft pats on his head.

"Does it feel weird? Or hurt?" Looking down at him now, you didn't even think of asking if it hurt him. Chuckling at how you're worrying for him now after hours of playing and patting his ears. "Do not worry your pretty little head love, I was so opposed to it because it's quite the opposite. It feels good, too good even sometimes." That explains his reactions a lot, his breath was rather hard when you were playing with them, and his face was crimson red at some point. If someone barged in to see him like this, they would have probably been dead by now. "Makes sense so.. do you have a matching tail?" At that his body tenses up, oh how you loved teasing him. But before you could take a peak under his coat, he was up on his feet and out of the room. This would be a fun new mission.

Angel couldn't help but cackle at the way Alastor stormed through the foyer and out of the hotel, absolutely disheveled. Husker just let out a breath when you joined them at the bar, though it stocked again when you told them of your newest plan of the radio demon and his deer tail. The radio demon probably already dreading your attempts and how he knew, he would in the end enjoy this just as much as he enjoyed you patting his ears.

[homunculus-argument]

One of the most fun character concepts that I've had that I've never been able to fit into anything is The Most Appropriate Socialite Lady. Nobody dislikes her, but she is, indeed, very Appropriate, always seeming to do everything precisely to social etiquette, even according to social rules that nobody else knew were a thing. If there is a protocol to how to behave or respond in any given situation, no matter how obscure or how long ago it was that this was written down in some Refined Society Etiquette Book, she'll know it. So she is a bit old-fashioned sometimes, but not in a regressive way.

Every time there's a situation where nobody actually knows what the right way to respond would be, they quietly glance at her, because either she knows exactly how to handle this, or if the situation truly is without precedent, her educated guess of what should be done must be the right one. Someone might even write it down for a future etiquette book, of how This Most Polite Well-Mannered Lady responded to this awkward situation.

She doesn't judge people, and is never rude about people breaking Good Manner Rules on purpose (as pointing out someone doing so would be impolite), but the way she seems genuinely surprised and confused whenever someone breaks the protocol that nobody else might even been aware of makes people feel self-conscious or awkward sometimes. And she politely pretends to not notice that. She is very kind, very sweet, but also extremely Appropriate.

So even if this isn't a Victorian style gentlemanly "fine ladies are fragile and must be sheltered from the world"-style society by default, people still feel the need to behave well and be on their best formal behaviour around her, not out of fear of judgement but because she genuinely is that way and nobody wants to upset her. And if someone who doesn't give a shit about protocols upsets her on purpose by deliberately doing something that's fucking rude, they'll be discreetly moved to a different location before getting the shit beat out of them because fuck you for upsetting her.

The thing is, she's actually just autistic as hell. She originally started reading up on social etiquette as a way of masking, but it became a special interest for her, and she isn't just thrilled to teach you how to properly fold a napkin to help you better fit in to the Refined Society, but because she fucking loves infodumping. She's not trying to set herself apart, gatekeep, judge others or show off how she's better than you (like many others of her background would), she just genuinely enjoys having explicitly and clearly written rules and instructions on how to behave in society.

Also the tactful and graceful way in which she doesn't pay notice to veiled insults, or people accidentally saying something insulting to her, isn't always an act. A lot of the time she genuinely just does not notice.

[ellcrys]

aaaaand i got multiple tabs in the same file explorer window working also 🙏

[stellarsecrets86]

Venus In Houses In Groom Persona Chart

( For entertainment Purpose Only. Have Fun!❤️)

Venus, in a groom's persona chart, reflects his way of loving, romance, relationships, and aesthetic preferences. It reflects the ideal partner, how he shows love, and what he values in a partnership. Venus also signifies his social charm, creative talents, and how he seeks harmony and pleasure in life. Its house placement in the chart indicates the areas where he feels most fulfilled in love and beauty.

Venus in the 1st House:

The groom is charming, attractive, and naturally likable. He carries an aura of magnetism, often drawing people through his grace and personality. In relationships, he values mutual admiration and enjoys being adored. His physical appearance might be a significant focus, and he may strive to look his best. He is likely romantic and seeks a partner who complements his personality, enhancing his sense of self. His love language is all about affection and admiration. However, at times, he may rely too much on external validation, which the partner should balance by helping him build his self-confidence. This placement makes him a lover of life and beauty, someone who enjoys expressing love openly.

Venus in the 2nd House:

The groom relates love to security and material stability. He feels satisfied when he is able to provide for his partner and build a comfortable life together. The giving of gifts, luxury, and tangible expressions of love are at the forefront of how he displays affection. This placement indeed shows a great urge for stability in marriage regarding money matters, which often encourages careful planning for the future. He is seeking a partner who will value loyalty, share his love of comfort, and beautiful things. While this placement makes him a committed and trustworthy husband, there's an inclination to measure self-esteem in terms of material goods, which his life partner should balance by cultivating emotional closeness.

Venus in the 3rd House:

A man with this placement will be someone who craves mental compatibility in his romance. He would shower his beloved with love through words, judicious actions, and healthy, interactive communication. Communication is the key to his emotional fulfillment, and he feels contented when ideas and feelings are freely flowing in a relationship. He needs a partner to challenge his mind and to keep up with his playful banter. He may also be attracted to artistic or literary activities, finding hobbies like writing or storytelling appealing. Nevertheless, he may sometimes overanalyze some emotions or demand verbal assurances all the time, which his partner should have the patience to handle. This groom sees love as an adventure of the mind.

Venus in the 4th House:

This placement indicates a groom who deeply values family and emotional security in relationships. He seeks a partner with whom he can build a nurturing home and may prioritize family traditions and creating a warm domestic environment. He is deeply affectionate and protective of those he loves, often placing their happiness above his own. He considers marriage as the cornerstone in his life and source of emotional fulfillment. He may cling to the family's expectations or memories of the past with all his might, and that is what his partner should try to understand with empathy. The perfect relationship for him is based on emotional rapport and sharing dreams of a happy family life.

Venus in the 5th House:

Romantic and passionate, this groom thrives in relationships filled with excitement, creativity, and fun. He loves grand gestures of affection and enjoys the thrill of courtship. His love language might involve spontaneous dates, playful expressions of love, and creating memorable experiences with his partner. This placement often indicates a groom who seeks a soulmate-like connection that feels adventurous and fresh. However, he might struggle with commitment if the relationship becomes monotonous. His partner should encourage his creative outlets and participate in activities that they can share to keep the bond alive and kicking. This groom's love life often feels like a storybook romance.

Venus in the 6th House:

The groom shows love through acts of service and attention to detail. He is quite supportive and loves to contribute to his partner's well-being. He likes taking care of his spouse, either with practical help or small, thoughtful acts. He finds great pleasure in it, but of course, it would be nice if his partner could be more considerate and return his effort with gratitude. There is a tendency to be overly critical, particularly when his efforts go unnoticed. Marriage means togetherness and a sharing of responsibilities. He needs his partner to appreciate his need to be useful and appreciated in the relationship so that the scale is balanced.

Venus in the 7th House:

This is a very good placement of Venus because it reflects the groom being partnership- and marriage-oriented. He is naturally romantic and aims for harmony in a relationship. His ideal partner would be someone who possesses much grace, charm, and balance. He looks upon marriage as a partnership of two equals and hence tries to be fair and mutually respectful. This placement often shows someone who flourishes in long-term, committed relationships. However, he may tend to avoid conflict or suppress his needs for the sake of peace. His partner should encourage open communication and appreciate his commitment to harmony in the relationship.

Venus in the 8th House:

This placement represents a groom who desires profound and transformational intimacy with love. He is passionate, intense, and intends to share his innermost thoughts and feelings with his partner. He expresses his relationships through physical intimacy and emotional vulnerability. While loyal to the core, his strong emotions might give in to possessiveness or jealousy. His ideal match should reflect the depth of a man and guide this intensity into growth and understanding. Shared finances or business dealings could also be an essential part of his marriage. The groom believes in love that is transformative and transcendent.

Venus in the 9th House:

This groom is drawn to a partner who inspires his sense of adventure and curiosity about the world. He may meet his spouse through travel, education, or shared spiritual interests. He values relationships that broaden his horizons and often seeks out a partner who shares his love for exploration, learning, and cultural experiences. While this placement makes him optimistic and open-minded, he might at times battle with settling down or being grounded. His spouse should encourage his wanderlust while cultivating stability in the relationship. To him, marriage represents a path of growth and discovery together.

Venus in the 10th House:

The bridegroom's love is closely related to ambition and public image. He looks for a mate who furthers his professional ambitions or boosts his social status. This position does often define a bridegroom who is proud of his marriage and perceives his spouse as a complement to his success. He is faithful and committed but may be absent due to work at times. His ideal match should offset his ambition with warmth and emotion. To him, marriage is a personal pledge and a public partnership that defines his legacy.

Venus in the 11th House:

This groom values friendship and shared ideals in his relationships. He seeks a partner who shares his dreams, social goals, and love for community involvement. Love, to him, is about camaraderie and mutual respect. This placement often describes an individual who can be initially friends with his romantic partner and then gradually get into the relationship. Although he likes his independence in the relationship, his partner must not neglect the emotional intimacy in it. He does well in relationships where shared goals blend with emotional intimacy, and quite often works with his spouse on projects or causes that mean much to him.

Venus in the 12th House:

This placement can show a groom who loves on a deep, spiritual level and often unconsciously. He is empathetic and intuitive, possibly drawn to partners that have a mysterious or otherworldly aura. While deeply romantic, he may struggle to openly express his emotions or fear getting hurt. His ideal partner is someone who creates a safe space for emotional expression and shares his introspective nature. This placement often reveals a karmic marriage in which the connection can feel fated. He looks for an intense love, but he should beware of sacrificing himself or losing his identity within it.

--💚SS

[dragon-ascent]

Wouldn't it be fun to be vengefully pursued by Zhongli, who's out to catch and punish you because you broke a contract?

You propose the idea to your husband, explaining the appeal of the "thrill of the chase," so to speak. Now, you're a bit of a wuss, so you don't actually break any kind of contract; Zhongli, more than willing to humor you, agrees to pretend you have broken one nevertheless.

"Oh noooo," you repeat for the umpteenth time, making your way across the bridge leading home, "whatever will I doooo? Spare me!"

"I'm afraid is there no escape for you, my dearest," answers Zhongli, stalking over to you with all the deadly speed and malice of a snail. Then again, even you're not running away either, your gait more akin to a slow dance without contact.

Waltzing away, you shoot back with zero verve, "I'm downright terrified. I'm, like, so scared for my life right now." In the midst of your chase, you nearly step on a puddle - oh no, you can't ruin your new shoes, and the puddle's too wide to sidestep.

Zhongli takes notice, scooping you up and plopping you down on the other side. "Here we are, dear."

"Thanks! Ahem, now...eeeeek! He's gaining on meeee." You continue your half-hearted trudge away from him as he resumes his thrilling pursuit of you.

"Just wait until I get my hands on you. I shall show you no mercy." He's walking as though it's a casual evening promenade.

"That sounds excit- I mean, horrible! Horrible, yes." Reaching your doorstep, you make to unlock the door. "Gotta get to safety and protect myself!"

Like a true gentleman, the god waits patiently while you fiddle with the key.

"Pssst, Zhongli, could you get it for me real quick? I think it's stuck."

"Oh, of course." He unlocks the door and holds it open for you.

It's time to get on all fours. "Oh no! He got inside!" you wail, crawling your way to the bedroom while your husband leisurely follows behind, watching as you clamber onto the bed.

"Nooooo! All my clothes are flying off!" you exclaim, sloppily yanking your garments off and tossing them aside. "This must be the wrath of the God of Contracts..."

Your dear Zhongli, barely able to contain his amusement, gracefully climbs into bed and props himself over you. "Indeed it is."

"He's got to me! What will you do to meeeee..."

"I shall, er...sheathe my spear in you. Repeatedly."

Peals of laughter ensue.

[sky-high-standards]

Yandere Host x reader

Gonna try a new writing style for this one

Yandere host~ Who was on the job charming his clients and giving them a false sense of worth when you walked in

Yandere host~ Who couldn't deny that you were very beautiful, and he couldn't wait to toy with you.

Yandere host~ Who was shocked and offended when you pushed him away and said it was your friend that had a hosting appointment not you.

Yandere host~ Who did indeed charm your friend but glanced at you every time as a desperate attempt to make you jealous or convince you to make an appointment yourself.

Yandere host~ Who was stunned and flabbergasted to find out that you weren't interested in him at all how couldn't you like him he's so pretty.

Yandere host~ Who decided to get close to your friend to get closer to you which did indeed work.

Yandere host~ Who was thrilled to find out that you'd be making host appointments, but that joy turned into jealousy and heartbreak when he found out you made appointments for other hosts and not him.

Yandere host~ Who would ignore his clients and stare at you from across the room with jealous eyes burning holes into the people that would host you.

Yandere host~ Who asks your friend everything about you which makes the whole thing about you not her.

Yandere host~ Who genuinely falls in love with you after hearing more and more about you.

Yandere host~ Who constantly asks you out and gets pouty and sulky every time you reject him only to ask you again the next day.

Yandere host~ Who one by one "gets rid of" all the other hosts so you'll have no choice but to let him host you.

Yandere host ~ Who's the definition of clingy and loves your personal space and is the equivalent to a puppy when you're around.

Yandere host~ Who always slips something into your tea and you always wake up in his embrace or with marks on your neck and chest (or both more often then not).

Yandere host~ Who will do anything and I mean anything or your attention and much more for your affection.

"Why can't you love me? It can't be that hard..."

Remember Jesus loves y'all and he's the truth the way and will forgive and deliver us if we put our faith in him.♥

[defmaybe]

Pineapples

12 Days of Christmas: Day 5, December 29th, 2024

BABYMONSTER’s Kawai Ruka x Male Reader

4.3k words

Christmas Masterlist

A/N: First Ruka fic?

—

“Bitch.”

The answer to how she got into your dorm room remains a puzzling mystery. There’s a security guard outside that won’t allow women to access the men's dorm. Still, any question here is thrown out of the window, with her jerking you off from behind like this, sliding her dexterous hand up and down in a languid motion. You’re shifting and shifting in her embrace on your own bed.

You were sure that the door was locked before you went out of your room this morning—tightly shut. She must’ve lock-picked her way into here. She always has a hairpin with her. You aren’t denying that it looks gorgeous on her, hot even. You could spend the whole day just staring at her with her hair tied up into a bun, topped off with the hairpin piercing through the center of the bunch.

Sure, it’s a little degrading for you to submit to her like this every time you meet. She’ll call you a bitch, a slut, a whore, anything that she could think of that day. You’ll call her by her name, on the condition that you avert her gaze. Still, there’s something to be enjoyed in this power dynamic. 

It’s the thrill of submission.

She makes sure to swipe her thumb when her hand reaches the top of your cock. It’s for fun, she says. Of course, it’d be fun for her. You moan like a bitch every time she does that.

“You love having me jerking you off like this, don’t you?” she asks, her voice venomous, yet so magnetic. God, why is she so attractive?

You can only nod with a whimper, so clouded in the pleasure her hand is giving you. Indeed, it didn’t start slow. She ordered you to sit on the bed, pants off, shirt on (she said that it’d be a bit too cold for you). Your top is going to get all creased, with her pressing up against your back like this, but you couldn’t care less. You love the way she’s reducing you into her toy like this. You feel pliant. You feel obedient. You feel–comfortable.

“And don’t you dare fucking other women with this cock. It’s mine, only mine, understand?”

You nod again. Your hands are all limp from the pleasure coursing through your body. You are unable to move your body by a single inch, with her limbs placed meticulously to lock you in your place like this. Though, it’s like you’d resist, anyway.

Now, back to the beginning. You’d argue that it’s nothing short of rote. You two went over a year from being just a familiar face in your class, always walking past each other without much notice, until a fateful night at the bar.

—

“Ah!” you two exclaimed simultaneously. It seemed that you just crashed into each other. Your drink spilled from your glasses. They weren’t shattered yet, thankfully. Although, it left wet spots on your clothes.

“Sorry!” you apologized, shouting to fight the music.

“It’s fine! I’m sorry too!” she shouted back. God, the music was so loud there.

“Ruka! Right?”

“Yeah!” Ruka responded with a smile, taking a sip of whatever was left in the glass. “And you are?”

You told her your name, also taking a sip of whatever is left in the glass. She seemed to be happy about it. You two finally knew each other after a year of silence.

“So, uh, I should go back to my table now. My friends are waiting,” said Ruka, tilting her head slightly away from you.

“Oh, yeah, I should go back too. See you around, I guess?”

“See you around!”

—

The night rolled on until the bar closed. You and your friends left the bar, preparing to go back to your dorms, but not without your eyes meeting Ruka just on the outside.

“Hey!” Ruka shouted. Her walking was funny, judging from how she carried herself towards you that night. She was definitely drunk, but so did you. You could barely walk straight.

“Hi,” you said. Her friends were looking at you two, murmuring something to one another.

“Sooo~ we’re having an after-party at my placeee. Wanna joinnn?” she asked, intoxicated. Her breath was full of alcohol.

“Uhhh–” you glanced around at your friends, who seemed to have no opinion on it.

“Up to you, man,” Soobin said, shrugging. “I can go with you. It’s Saturday tomorrow.”

—

“Seven minutes in heaven doesn’t seem like a bad idea,” Pharita said, tilting the empty beer bottle in her hand.

The eight of you were inside Ruka’s room, on the floor, preparing to watch the bottle spin. It was somewhat large for a dorm room. Her parents were probably rich. It was clean and tidy, no stray strands of hair could be seen.

“You’ve cleaned the bathroom, right?” Asa asked.

“Just this morning.”

—

“I don’t think I’ve ever got to properly know you,” Ruka said. Her voice was low. The guys are probably eavesdropping from the outside. “We just kinda–”

“I get it, yeah,” you cut her words off with a smile. Your posture was reserved. You remembered you were leaning against the door that day.

Ruka smiled, before asking, “You like women, right? I mean–I don’t wanna assume.” Her expression was full of anxiety—eyes on the floor, tucking her hair behind her ear. She was probably afraid to offend you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you answer, chuckling.

The tension was thick, too thick. Your smile faded. You two kept averting each other’s eyes. There was apprehension within the situation. You gulped and gulped, playing with the hem of your shirt.

Boldly, she grabbed onto your collar, pulling your face closer to her, before she latched her lips onto yours. Her tongue invaded your mouth without any caution, and that made you melt into her embrace. Her lips tasted like alcohol, with a hint of rose on her. You were faltering.

And she pulled back.

“Never knew your lips taste this good,” Ruka said, wiping the saliva off her lips. She looked hot doing so.

You said nothing, only swallowing hard. You could feel blood rushing to the lower part of your body. It was aching. Your hands were trembling, letting out endless whimpers. You didn’t pay attention to her eyes enough to notice that they were gleaming with desire.

“Ooh~” she uttered, voice below a whisper, pressing your body against the door even harder. Her hands started to be where it shouldn’t. Her alcohol-filled breath invaded your personal space. It was uncomfortable, yet–there was something else in it. “You’re one of those guys, don’t you?”

Another whimper escaped you. You were trying to look away from her, too shy to look her in the sharp eyes. You could see her biting her lip in the corner of your eyes, so ready to take over your body. Fuck, she was so attractive doing that.

“What if I.” She grabbed your chin with her left hand softly, heightening the tension in this bathroom. Her breath remained steady, so unfazed by the whole situation. She was good at that.

Her right hand found its way onto the tent on your pants, squeezing your crotch gently. You let out a whimper under her touch. She seemed satisfied with that. She seemed satisfied with your unwavering submission.

“What a good boy for me,” she uttered, grabbing onto your collar tightly. Her voice was nothing short of dangerous. “You fucking love this, don’t you? You love being a bitch boy.”

You weren’t too sure how to answer the question, but there was probably some truth in it. You were revelling in the way she used you. You loved the way she takes control. You loved how she kisses you like that—invading your mouth like it is her property (it’s her property).

“Answer me, bitch,” she hissed, pushing you up against the door. You were tiptoeing on the ground. Fuck, she was strong. “Or I’m going to fucking edge you until you moan like one.”

You’d be dead if the door wasn’t thick, either would that be heard by the guys or breaking the door with her force.

“I–I love b–being a bitch boy, R–Ruka,” you answered, shaken. Her cat-like eyes were so alluring. They pierced through your heart like a bullet. You were in awe of her beauty, and a bit scared of it.

She laughed mischievously, enjoying the power she had over you. Her adept fingers were still giving your bulge squeezes after squeezes. You whimpered with each touch.

“Should’ve known that you’re a submissive little slut,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes upwards. “Now, if you’d kindly follow my instructions~”

You let out a whimper, too clouded within the expectation of her pleasuring you. You were exploring the ways that she could give you the feeling of utter divinity. Hand? Mouth? Thighs? Pene–

“Here’s what I’m going to do,” Ruka started, hands playing with the hem of your pants. You sucked a sudden. Her soft fingers felt so good on your slutty waist. A soft, airy moan left your lips.

“We have–” she looked at her watch, trying to estimate how many minutes you got. You wish you could just press her mouth down on your cock and get this over with, but that wasn’t how it worked, not when she was in control like that “–four minutes left.”

You nodded in response. Full-on penetration was probably out of the window. There were still a few choices for you to ponder on.

“I’ll suck you off. I’ll make it clean. Don’t moan too loud.” Three orders—direct, quick—and as you were processing the information, Ruka pulled your pants down quickly. Your lower body was left just in boxers. Your erection became more prominent than before. A loud moan left your lips. Good thing she managed to close your mouth in time. The guys didn’t hear that.

“I said, ‘Don’t moan too loud’, bitch,” Ruka sneered. “Do you want me to fucking edge you, huh?”

You shook your head with a whimper. She seemed to be satisfied with the answer. She had to be; there’s barely four minutes left. She couldn’t afford any more time wasted berating you.

In a quick motion, she pulled your boxers down, kneeling before you. Your erection was freed from the fabric cage that held you. She didn’t waste any more time judging the size of it. Instead, she dove right into enveloping her mouth around your cock, eyes closed. You could barely contain your moans.

She let out a satisfied hum around your cock. She was happy with your taste. You had to use your hands to cage the whimpers coming out.

Her mouth felt so warm, so wet, so tight. She bobbed her head back and forth adeptly, using her hands to help ramp up the intense pleasure you were feeling. She even went a mile further and started to hollow her cheeks, creating a suction on your cock. You couldn’t help but use all of your inhibition to not let out the loudest moan of your life. Thankfully, it came out as a quiet mewling.

She definitely loved your cock. Hell, she probably got addicted to it. You could feel that she was using all of herself on your cock, sucking on it in such an enthusiastic nature. She finally opened her eyes, looking up to see her bitch boy writhing in the pleasure she was giving to him. She let out a giggle at you.

Three minutes left.

She upped her ante, trying to milk your cock before time ran out. Her movements quickened, yet still deliberate. Her hands rubbed on your cock faster and faster, coaxing suppressed moans out of your mouth. That felt great.

You fell in love with her cat-like eyes. They were so magnetic that night. They pulled you into another realm that was beyond your comprehension. It was a place full of her, and only her.

She then ran her fingers along your lips, feeling the chapped texture of you. As if you knew, you opened your mouth, letting her plunge her fingers into your wet cavern. Her hand reeked of the earlier alcohol—mostly beer. There was a hint of sweat on it. She was addictive. She was like a fucking drug.

“Nngnn.”

You were sure that you were going to remember that forever—getting sucked off by your classmate in her bathroom while drooling on her fingers at the same time. Her one hand was caressing your cock adeptly. Her friends were trying to eavesdrop on the other side, and you were doing your best not to moan like a slut she wanted you to be.

Two minutes left.

Satisfied, drunken hums left your lips. You were revelling in the way she used you like her little fucktoy like this—her mouth on your cock, her fingers in your mouth. The taste of alcohol lingering on her digits filled your mouth. You fucking loved it.

She definitely had talent in sucking a cock. It was as if she had practiced a lot (it was a few guys and her wide variety of toys, she later told you). She created this suction around your cock that made you whimper like a common whore. The guys would’ve heard that if it weren’t her fingers inside your mouth (she argued later that a strap would’ve also worked).

Her fingers invaded your mouth with an unmatched dexterity, sweeping the insides of your mouth ever so masterfully. Your teeth grazed against her fingers. Her head bobbed back and forth, creating an absolutely vulgar image in front of you.

“Fuck, your cock taste good,” she uttered, muffled by your length. Her features were utterly wrecked by your hard cock. You can see tears running down her face, painting streaks of black marks on her cheeks.

It was peculiar, from strangers to something close to a fuck buddy in the span of a few hours. Those conversations in class weren’t going to be the same. The image of her mouth around your cock is going to be imprinted inside your mind forever.

One minute left.

You were doing your absolute best to contain the whimper out of your lips. The feeling was just too heavenly. You clenched your hand into a fist. The all-too-familiar feeling built up in your loins. Your breathing grows frantic. You were going to cum inside of Kawai Ruka’s mouth, with her friends on the other side of the door!

“Hhgnn.”

“Cum, bitch,” she ordered, her words muffled by your hardness.

“I–I’m trying,” you reply, trying to keep your voice below a whisper.

She upped the act into another ante, blowing your cock at a pace quicker than ever. She really wanted you do cum, didn’t she? Her fingers snake onto the rim of your asshole, sending a special kind of shock through your body.

“Fuck!”

Her fingers circle around your tightness. It feels great, being caressed in the ass like this. It feels like you’re her object, and that’s the feeling you absolutely love. Your hips jerk forward into her mouth. She gags a little, but it doesn’t stop her from neither sucking your cock in full force, nor your peak. You’re going to cum inside of Kawai Ruka’s mouth!

And all you could see was white. Your entire body jerked with pure pleasure. Your cock shot ropes of cum into her filthy mouth. Bliss coursed through your bloodstream to your entire frame. You couldn’t even stand straight. You painted the insides of her mouth, not leaving any corner untouched.

You twitched inside her violently, enveloped in her warm, wet cavern. The spurts grew softer and softer, from frantic shots to drizzles. You tried to suppress your moans with her finger, sucking on them harshly.

And just as you thought she’d spit it out in her sink, she swallowed, expressionless. It was splendidly obscene—the way she just drank your cum so damn easily. You remember that you could only gulp at the vulgar sight.

She pulled off of your spent cock. “Need more pineapples,” she said, licking her lips and making a pop sound with her dirty mouth. She’s clean—no trace of your nectar inside her mouth. Fuck.

She stood up, as her eyes were still bored into yours. She was examining your after-blowjob expressions like a predator watching its prey.

“Twenty seconds left. Put your fucking pants on,” she hissed. “Wouldn’t want the guys to know, would you?”

Hastily, you put on your pants. It was sloppy. It was even stuck on your knees at one point. Fuck, why is this so hard? Thankfully, it finally followed your hands up to your slim waist. You frantically buckled your belt for the final touch-up.

She wipes off the black marks on her cheeks. She has probably done it a few times before, because her face looks so damn clean after that.

Time’s up.

Ruka opened the door to the outside, wiping her mouth with her cuffs. You turned around, frozen under the gaze of the people in front of the doorway, still unable to make sense of what had just happened in the bathroom.

You saw Soobin giving you a knowing smirk. The others also probably know what’s up, but at that point, you just couldn’t care less. You just opened a whole new door with the help of Kawai Ruka.

—

She plants her teeth on the back of your neck, making you jolt in response. It’s a playful bite, you can feel it. There’s a lot to be processed right now, still—her hand on your cock, her body pressing up on you, her hot breath brushing against your neck. It feels too good.

“Nasty little slut,” she whispers into your ear. You moan again at the degrading word. You love it. You love the way she takes control over you like this. “Too bad I didn’t bring my strap here, or I’d be fucking your mouth with it.”

You say nothing, only moan. The air thickens with lust and the smell of sex. Ruka quickens her motion from behind you. Your moans are getting louder and louder. She loves this; she told you once. She loves her men moaning like a whore.

“Yeah, moan like that, you pathetic little bitch,” she growls. The demeaning words only serve to push you further into bliss. She then takes a soft bite on your earlobe, making you jolt in response.

“What a sensitive slut,” she continues. She won’t stop calling you these names, will she? Not that you don’t want that, though.

The tension starts to coil inside your muscles. Your eyes flutter. Your breathing becomes rapid. Your toes curl. You’re going to cum in the hands of Kawai Ruka!

“Aww~ gonna cum already?” she coos, her tone mocking. Her hand jerks you off even faster. The swipes on top of your cock aren’t there anymore, but the sensation of her hand rubbing you rapidly is more than enough.

You can’t answer anything but grunting and groaning at her mastery. The warmth of her body on you is comforting, yet so wicked in its own way. It completely engulfs you, making you completely hers.

“Cum in my hand then, bitch. Make a goddamn mess like the slut you are,” she keeps the insults coming in waves. You’re more than happy to welcome that, being reduced to her nasty little slut like this.

“Nghnn.”

Your dam breaks, your cock shoots out spurts and spurts of cum in her hand. Some land on your shirt, some land on her legs. Hell, some even land on your pretty face. She keeps jerking you off through your high, coaxing as much cum as possible out of your cock.

Successive spurts grow softer, from shots to small dribbles. Your cock is still twitching violently in the grip of her hand. 

Eventually, your orgasm dies down. Droplets of cum rest on your cock idly. Trails of it can be seen running down, leaving viscous marks all over. 

Ruka then scoops the remnants of your cum on your cock before sucking her fingers lewdly. You swallow hard. You can’t quite get used to the image of her drinking your nectar yet. She closes her eyes while doing so. God, what a sight.

“That’s enough pineapples,” she says, sucking on her fingers enthusiastically. The obscene sounds of it ring in your ear. She’s enjoying your taste. 

“Want a taste?” She then offers her fingers to you, and you happily accept them. You suck on her fingers like a whore. You find out that you are really sweet today. That’s probably enough pineapples, as she said.

“I can buy you some more pineapples from my dorm if you want,” she says.

You nod, still sucking her fingers like a bitch, tasting the remnants of your own sweet flavor. You absolutely adore the way she’s using you like this, and you just wish you can stay like this forever. 

Suddenly, she pulls her finger out of your needy mouth, leaving the taste of yourself lingering—sweet, intense.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she says with a giggle, before unlocking you from your restraint. You can finally move freely again, at the expense of her warm embrace. You let out a whimper in disappointment.

Ruka gets off of the bed. She gives you a hand, the messy one, with a smile. Your cum stains can still be seen on it. They haven’t dried off yet. You accept her hand before getting up from your bed.

“Thanks,” you say, before heading to your bathroom to clean yourself up.

—

The damage to you wasn’t that much, but you figure that maybe a shower is needed. It’s 10 p.m. already. You soak yourself in the warm water from the shower head above, cleaning the filth on you.

Suddenly, the door opens. It’s Ruka, all naked in the glory, hands on her waist. Her toned, muscular body is on full display. Her small breasts are sitting on her chest beautifully, so tantalizing to your touch. And her abs, god, her abs, it looks so attractive on her body.

“Can I join?” she asks, chuckling. You’re accepting her request, either way.

“Come on in.”

She then walks towards you. There’s seduction in the way she does it—the swaying of her hips, the finger bite, the languid pace, the sensuality. She’s looking straight into your eyes doing so. Your cock hardens again at the image of her.

Ruka lets out a laugh as she reaches you, catching you in her embrace. She feels warm, contradicting the insults (which you happily accepted) thrown at you. Her smile feels sincere under the warm water. She looks–gorgeous.

“So,” Ruka says, caressing your face. “I want to talk to you about something.”

You raise your eyebrow, intrigued by her words. “Uh huh?”

“I want to talk–” she lets the last words flow along with the running water. She goes silent for a while, trying to think of her next words. You nervously wait in anticipation “–about us.”

You do a double take, perplexed by the way this topic comes up like this. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she continues, averting your eye contact. Both of you swallow hard, as she’s too apprehensive to say the next words.

“Wh–What about us?”

“I–” and she pauses. You wait, and you wait, and you wait. She keeps avoiding your eyes, hands still on your burning face. “–I want–more.”

“Oh.”

You guess it immediately. The concept of you two dating hasn’t been very far-fetched since that fateful night, but you’ve never thought she’d be the one to–

“I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and–I feel like–” she pauses again, looking elsewhere, trying to find comfort in the shampoo and body wash bottles around you, but she can’t let this go on forever. She has to say it “–I’ve fallen for you.”

Your eyes widen, unable to comprehend the words that were just coming out of her lips. You’ve never seen Ruka like this, so–raw, so–vulnerable. It’s so strange.

Still, you may have been feeling the same way about her. You know the way she smiles (she always closes her mouth when she does, as if she’s trying to suppress it). You know how she eats (she usually eats the vegetables in the dishes first). You know her favorite show (it’s Ally McBeal). You know, you know, you know.

“A–Are you okay with that, with–us?”

You open your mouth, but no words are coming out. It’s a difficult decision to make. You’re tying yourself to her if you say yes, but also–

You want to see that smile every day. You want to hear that laugh. You want to hear her call you a bitch. You want to go out and eat Neapolitan spaghetti with her. You want, you want, you want, you want.

You swallow hard, carefully choosing your next words. 

“I–”

She looks into your eyes expectantly. Her grip on your face grows tighter, but that can’t compare to the feeling building up inside your heart.

“I think I like you too, Ruka.”

And with that, she pulls you into a kiss, a fervent one. It’s one filled with unspoken desires. Tongues battling for dominance. Hands roaming over each other’s body frantically, afraid of losing each other. You grind your body on hers, trying to feel her as much as you can. The bathroom is filled with your moans and the sound of water, and you couldn't be happier.

“Mmmph, just like that,” she says, her hands traveling down to your ass, giving your cheeks firm squeezes. You jolt in response to her touch, as she giggles softly into the kiss.

She then pulls back from the sensual, fiery kiss to catch her breath. Both of you are panting under the flowing water, fulfilled. You see her smiling with joy, before she laughs, and you can’t help but to do that along with her.

“Bitch.”

—

[theeroins]

If I say that I'm not used to people misinterpreting my favorite characters, I'd be lying. But the way they get so many things wrong about Inho's character is kinda pissing me off because you KNOW that most of them do it to cancel out the possibility of InHun being *something* more than what's shown so far. You don't ship them, that's fair, frankly I don't care. Everyone's entitled to their own opinion UNTIL your opinion is wrong.

Let's talk about a couple of things I've seen being talked about on tiktok (🙄)

“Inho joined the games because ilnam said that it'd basically be more fun to play than to watch so he followed his example." loud incorrect buzzer ! Inho has joined the games before, and not only that, he's also a previous winner, so therefore he's very much aware of what it's like to be a part of it, he's experienced them first hand, just like he's experienced the atrocities of it. they've changed him for the worst and possibly caused him a huge trauma —they're the reason he's lost faith in humanity after all— so, why would he crave to relive it just for the thrill of it? i, personally doubt he even enjoys watching the game.

“Inho didn't look at Gihun with love, he likes to watch him suffer” Short answer is no. He doesn't like to watch him suffer, neither he looked at him with love, not the pure kind of love at least. Two things can be true at once. Inho spent half the season staring at Gihun because everything about the man intrigued him; His determination, his stubbornness, his kindness, his hope, his heart that's full of love despite the pain he suffered, even the pain in his eyes every time someone got eliminated in front of him as if it was the first time it had happened, as if the cruelty of it all surprised him every damn time. How can someone, who's been through the same things Inho has been through, be the polar opposite of him?

now, the reason(s) that I think Inho actually joined the games for..

(yes I am an Inhun shipper, does that make my opinion a little biased? maybe. do i still believe I'm right? absofuckinglutely.)

Let me clarify this: Inho is NOT a good man, no matter the redemption arc he might get in s3, he'll continue to be a terrible person because nothing will ever erase the blood he's spilled and the evil men he's worked for. BUT at the same time, he's not ALL bad, not like the VIPS and ilnam. See, Inhun are the average "yin-yang" trope in fictional romance, (which I eat up every time and I find it very interesting when it's done the right way, don't get me wrong) Inho is bad but there's some goodness somewhere deep inside him. And the only person who's brought it to the surface is Gihun. Sure, he does think Gihun is naive, but he's also the only person who's actually challenged him, who's "forced" him to get his stupid head out of the dirt and look around him, even for a short while and Inho definitely liked what he saw. Honestly, it wasn't even that hard for Gihun to do so because the goodness in Inho wanted and waited for someone to pull him out of the dirt, he wished for someone, something to give him hope for humanity or.. anything. Anything that'll help him escape from his misery.

You can definitely argue that he joined the games to befriend Gihun, to gain his trust and stop his plans when the time comes, which is half true. But keep in mind that he needed to justify his choice to join the games. He's not a VIP nor the mastermind to simply get to do that without consequences. He's the frontman, the one who controls and manages everything. He's needed for the games to work and go by smoothly and successfully without unnecessary losses and problems. Gihun would only cause problems, Inho knew that very well and yet he chose to put him in it once again. He recklessly made that choice, risking pretty much everything because of his inner conflict. A part of him wanted Gihun to prove himself to him, that there's indeed good that'll save the world and the rest of him wanted to prove to Gihun that everything he so strongly believes in is merely a fantasy.

Joining the games and befriending Gihun was the only way for Inho to see the real him, without the heroic mask he puts on every time he faces the frontman. I think he believed that someone as extraordinary as Gihun will either break in front of him and he will end up disappointed by the human kind once again, or Gihun will change everything about the way he thinks for the better. But the problem is that Inho hopes for both of those things at the same time.

And that was Inho's arc in season 2. His inner conflict and how it will affect him, the game and Gihun later on.

[persicipen]

𑑛 “A GUARD FOR HIRE” ﾉ MOZE. HONKAI STAR RAIL

fem reader ﾉ words 2.8k ᯽ reader is a high-ranked diplomat. bit proud and bratty. petnames — princess. moze is giving emo aura. quickie. manhandling against the wall. thrill of getting discovered. cumming inside, mentioned protection. one night stand but suggestion to continue the relationship. flirting going both ways! ᯽ ADULT CONTENT ﾉ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ᯽

your diplomatic visit to one of the xianzhou ships is of utmost importance. thus, general feixiao lends her personal guard to ensure your safety. the short stroll in shadows takes an unexpected turn, one that leaves you both smitten.

The light breeze of the docks brings the scent of incense and distant melodies. Your arrival on one of the Xianzhou ships is marked by the swirl of silken banners and the quiet greeting of highest elegance between you and a few other diplomats.

The title of ‘Princess’ is a misnomer, one that clings to you like an unwanted gossip, yet here you stand, poised and ready to fulfill your role.

A figure detaches from the shadows as you step off the polished platform after exchanging pleasantries. Moze, the infamous shadow of the Great General Feixiao of the Xianzhou Yaoqing, moves with the quiet grace of a predator. His greyish features are looming over you like a storm, emphasising the stark contrast of his fuchsia eyes that seem to pierce through your very being. His demeanour is akin to a crow, brooding and enigmatic, a man of both dignity and foreboding.

“Welcome, Princess,” he addresses you with a curt nod, his voice low and devoid of warmth. The title grates on your nerves, but you swallow your irritation, knowing that he is your shield tonight.

“Good evening, indeed it is. Moze, correct? Long time no see…” you reply, striving to match his aloofness. “General Feixiao has entrusted you with my safety.”

He inclines his head again, a gesture that feels more like an acknowledgment of an obligation rather than respect. “Follow me,” he says, turning on his heel without waiting for your response.

You fall into step behind him, the bustling celebration fading as he leads you through a series of narrow passages. The noise of the festival is muffled here, replaced by the distant hum of the ship’s core and the occasional clink of unseen machinery. His presence is both a comfort and a source of unease; his silence is palpable, a constant reminder that one does not receive a prominent place by the general’s side so easily — he must possess many hidden talents, and you’re unsure if you should pursue your curiosity about any of them.

“As per usual, the security here is disappointing. Suspicious patrols are too active tonight,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “We must avoid unnecessary attention.”

You purse your lips, unsatisfied but unwilling to press further. The passageway twists and turns, your guide leading you with an unerring sense of direction until he suddenly halts, raising a hand to signal you to stop. You glance around, finding yourself in a secluded corridor, far from the festival’s epicentre.

His proximity is unsettling, the cold aura he exudes a barrier to the warmth of the celebration you can no longer hear. Yet, there is a confidence in his movements, a silent assurance that he will protect you, even if his loyalty remains as shadowed as his past. Should you even trust him? No, you mustn’t doubt the general’s word. She would not have sent her personal guard to you otherwise.

In a swift movement, Moze pushes you against the wall, eliciting a quiet gasp from your lips. One hand curls around your neck while the other grabs your hip, keeping you still.

“What are you doing?” you let out a silent scream at him, but he covers your mouth with his gloved hand — the awful realisation striking you how large his palm is compared to yours when you try to pull it away, unsuccessfully.

“Shh, patrols.” All he says, barely moving his lips, eyes flickering to the side and head tilted a degree to listen.

“But—”

He moves his hand, cupping your cheeks and chin instead, silencing you with the gesture. His touch feels heavy, inexplicably intimate. “I can’t let them see you.”

Your chest heaves as you struggle to find words to reply, but none come. His neon eyes burn into yours and it feels like the air has turned thicker, heavier, charged with electricity. You see him tense as footsteps echo through the closed street and then all of a sudden, he pulls you closer to him.

“Keep still. I can make us disappear.”

A violent shudder runs through your body at his command, and you immediately feel his thigh pressed between your legs. Is he even aware?

The silence hangs between you, filled only by the hammering of your heart and your harsh breathing. Every sense is attuned to his closeness, the hard press of his chest against yours, the heat emanating from his body, the rough texture of the metal details on his gloves against your skin. His fingers are tight on your chin, ensuring your eyes are fixed on him.

His presence is overwhelming, crushing, yet he seems completely unaffected, scanning the darkness with laser-like focus. How can he be so impassive? Why do you feel this way?

A small eternity passes before he finally relaxes his muscles, eyes gliding to meet yours — for the amount of emotions he shows, which is barely anything, they almost express an apology. “They’re gone.”

“Mhm,” you hum, unable to say anything else. You fear if you open your mouth, he’ll hear how your breathing hitches at his touch, hear the thoughts in your head that were anything but noble, hear your desire and confusion that pools in your core.

“We must move on, Princess. Don’t waste time,” he warns you as he steps back, unexpectedly releasing you from his grasp. Your body immediately misses his closeness, despite how overwhelming it felt. Trembling fingers clutch to his coat involuntarily, before you even notice they move on their own.

But Moze notices, ever vigilant, eyes quickly flashing to your hands, and back up at your face.

He then bows his head as he retrieves your hands away from him, placing them against your sides — almost tenderly. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath, before his brows knit together in a deep frown. “You are my duty. This is no time for idle musings.”

“Hmm… You say that, but do you know what I feel down there?” you whisper, clinging to him closer, the prominent bulge in his pants impossible to hide and easy for you to press after approaching these remaining inches between you two.

He remains still, save for the pulsating twitch beneath your fingers — he is quiet, the rise and fall of his chest slightly uneven, eyes glazed with indecipherable emotion.

A second too long for you to consider him interested, reading yourself to experience the worst shame, but he finally draws you in for a kiss, claiming your lips in a possessive manner, hungrily devouring your mouth like you’re air itself and he’s drowning.

Moze tastes just as you imagined — his tongue smooth, dark and wickedly talented as it glides against yours. The deep growl that reverberates from his chest seems to flow into your mouth, the sound sending an electric current of desire through your body. Your nails claw at his neck, hips desperately rolling against his thigh, searching for any friction you can get. Fuck his military pants and fuck how coarse they feel compared to your silken robes.

A muffled moan escapes your lips as he moves to trail his mouth along your jawline, leaving behind a blazing path of kisses and small nips.

“How far can I—?”

“Until you cum inside. I need to get rid of the stress from this whole delegation…” You could feel him smirking against your skin, but you don’t see it — his gloved fingers wrapping around your neck, making your head spin even more than it already did, but in the most delightful way.

“I assume this much already, but it’s safe, yes?” He suddenly stops, going from possessive to worried so quickly you barely catch up.

“Of course, I wouldn’t risk my career now,” you exhale, long lashes fluttering and lips swollen from his kisses.

You bunch up your expensive robes above your thighs, enough for him to see your glistening cunt, folds puffy with your slick, due to him — that rough fabric of his pants taunting you as a challenge to push you this far. Himself, he works fast on the buckles and belts of his pants, tugging down the parts necessary for his erection to spring free — he must have been aching for release just as much as you did, maybe even more. He gives himself a few pumps, ensuring he’s hard enough before he pulls you back into his embrace, just enough for him to access your entrance and lift you up without delay.

His mouth seeks yours again, this time with more urgency.

“So… Please, give me this honour. Take me. Give me something worth remembering after this night is over,” you mumble between his kisses, eyes wide open in anticipation of what is to happen.

The first thrust makes you weak in the knees, the feeling of his length sliding inside you is indescribable. You thought that his energy and aura were overwhelming before, but now it’s multiplied tenfold. You slip on one of your heels, but he secures you with his forearm under your lifted knee. The sound of your silk robes swishing as he moves against you is like music to your ears.

“Be quiet, Princess. Would you want someone to find us?” His voice is harsh, lips brushing against your earlobe as he whispers to you. As if reading your mind, because a wanton moan was already blooming in your throat, barely swallowed in time.

Your hips ache, both from the impact of being held in the air and how furiously you buck against him. You move in tandem, bodies writhing together, yet moze keeps control over your movements. The weight of his cock is deep and relentless, fucking you into a frenzy, making your eyes roll back as your legs tremble. His gaze burns into yours, all your attention consumed by his presence.

“How are you holding on?” His voice is barely above a whisper, eyes half-lidded and clouded with desire. “Knowing that it could end your career, how are you dealing with it?”

“I… Fuck, I don’t care about it now! You’re so smug about it, shouldn’t you do better if you still have the time to mock an official that pays you for your job?” you reply with a sharp pride, albeit quietly, but enough to send him the message. He seems almost impressed, judging by the smirk he gives you in return.

Fixing the hold he has on you, both of your knees now in the air and all your weight pressed against the wall and in the grip of his muscular arms, there’s no way to escape as he lets you fall on his shaft over and over again, deeper and deeper, his tip kissing your cervix, the movements harsh and quick.

“I can’t keep quiet!” you mewl right into his neck, your resolve faltering as your pleasure grows.

Moze chuckles darkly at your begging, apparently finding it amusing how you tremble and your eyes roll back as he relentlessly pounds into you.

“Look at me, Princess,” he commands. “You’ll cum with my eyes on you.”

His intense gaze holds you captive, like a moth drawn to the flame. Every detail fixed in your mind — his furrowed brow, lips parted as he draws in ragged breaths, neon eyes blazing with lust. Your body is on fire, every nerve tingling with pleasure, your release so close yet out of reach.

In a swift movement, he rolls his hips to angle himself against your sweet spot, a smug grin stretching across his lips as he feels you tighten around him.

“You’re so gorgeous when you’re desperate,” he whispers, leaning forward to trail his tongue along your throat. “If we were not on a mission, i’d have you spread out before me on the silken sheets.”

“Do… not… order… me… around…! Just because I— I’m vulnerable now!” you keep muttering under your breath, half-irritated by his words, half-trying to compose yourself so you wouldn’t moan through your gritted teeth. Your neck is soaked by his kisses and occasional nips that he leaves there as he adjusts his pace, both to match the quiet music of the festival and make sure he hits all the right spots inside you.

It works perfectly. Despite your persistence, a few times you were close to slip out from his grasp and into a loud and shameless moan, but he holds you with an iron grip, coaxing your orgasm out of you with expert precision.

Your muscles tense and your mind goes blank, all your senses honed in on the feeling of moze filling you, completing you. He presses his forehead against yours, gaze fixed on your face as you unravel, a ragged moan slipping past your lips. He curses under his breath, a strained groan that reverberates in your chest. The coil of pleasure within snaps, ecstasy washing over you in a violent wave, sparks dancing before your eyes as you clench around him. You cling to him, fingers tangling in his hair, nails digging into his shoulders, holding onto him like a lifeline.

He stills inside you, the tremors of your orgasm milking his cock, urging him to his release. During that minimal break, your eyes meet through the delirious haze, and you breathe out the quietest “come for me…” that works like a whip on him.

A rush of heat fills you as he cums with a staggered sigh, gloved fingers tightening their hold on your hips as he grinds against you, prolonging both your pleasures until he stills, tip pulsing with his release.

It feels so hot inside you, all you can think about is how you would look with your legs spread, his cum dripping down your thighs. How you would love to let that happen… but it is not an option for now.

But this moment will be forever imprinted in your memory, in the back of your mind. Especially when Moze presses his forehead against yours again, and pants right into your mouth — tousled but not sweaty, his stamina formidable.

“This is a bonus. But I still expect you to pay my wages,” he then smiles.

You huff at his demand, irritated by his assertiveness despite everything. “That is not what I had in mind. You think of me lowly! I would assume to pay you even more now that—”

“I’m not a whore, Princess. I’m fine with the original deal. This is a bonus, like I said. For being endearing.”

It’s a little saddening how quickly he puts you down, not waiting for your answer and adjusting his outfit in seconds. And yet somehow he still makes you feel special, like a prized possession he didn’t want to let go of, an unexpected gift wrapped up in a crumpled bow.

“Right… The deal,” you scoff, slowly but surely finding your ground on the heels. They seem to be like an additional leverage now that he fucked your brains out so thoroughly, you’re impressed how you can keep balance after that.

His cold facade only breaks when you step away from him. You barely notice his eyes flick to your face and then look at your heels, noticing how you seem more balanced than before. “Hmm… Not bad.”

“Is that praise I hear? Oh, do tell me more,” you smirk.

He huffs a little in amusement as you’re yet to realise there’s a drop of cum trickling down your inner leg. And then another one, finally tickling you enough to notice. He cocks an eyebrow, rather pleased about it, but says nothing — not out of sympathy, but because he finds it funny how you blink in confusion and then pick up the corner of your robes, wiping it against your wet entrance.

Your skin tingles where his touch lingered, all too aware of how exposed you feel. You are used to the skimpy dresses that are part of your designated fashion, but Moze stares at you with such intensity it’s like you’re standing naked before him. You push the thought from your mind and will yourself to meet his gaze.

“You should be proud, I’m usually not so easily pleased,” you say, though your voice wavers more than you would like.

A lopsided smirk is the only indication that he heard you as he adjusts his glove, turning his back to you and expecting you to follow. “My only task for tonight is to keep you safe. If you wish for my other services, you would have to convince General Feixiao first to borrow me again.”

You study him closely, wondering if his words are true. Your skin still buzzes with the memory of his touch, though your true responsibility forces you to disguise your feelings.

“Let’s go.”

[p0orbaby]

Your Turn to Bear the Burden was amazing!

Maybe a part 2 or a blurb with Alexia asking R, "Are you still mad?" And making it up to her by bringing her to one of their daughter's football games and just rubbing it in everyones (shiny hair's) face that they are indeed happily married even with their constant loving bicker

something small that follows on from this

-

The pitch smells faintly of damp grass and overcooked hot dogs, the kind you find at community sports events, their red plastic wrappers binned but somehow omnipresent in spirit. Alexia holds your hand as you weave through clusters of other parents, her grip firm, almost possessive. You know this isn’t just about Aina’s match. This is about her. About Shiny Hair, who you’ve recently discovered is actually called—of course—Catalina.

You’re here because Alexia asked you to come, her tone as careful as if she were handling a volatile substance. She didn’t have to spell it out. You knew. This wasn’t just a casual Saturday morning family outing. It was an event. A declaration. A parade.

And you’ve made up—well, you’ve reached a state of détente, which is close enough. The argument about Catalina was settled with a lengthy, painstaking conversation at 11:32 p.m. two nights ago, during which Alexia’s “I don’t even like her!” was met with your razor-sharp “Good. Then she’ll be thrilled to know I’ll be coming along to training drop-offs from now on”

“Don’t be weird today,” Alexia mutters under her breath as you approach the sidelines.

“I’m never weird,” you reply, your tone saccharine, squeezing her hand in a way that’s more threatening than reassuring.

The parents’ section is crowded, folding chairs scattered in half-hearted rows, some people standing to get better views of their kids. And there she is—Catalina, of course, already perched in the best spot, laughing at something someone just said. Her hair shines in the morning sun like she’s auditioning for a Pantene ad.

“Did you see? Aina’s already warming up,” Alexia says quickly, drawing your attention back to the pitch, where your daughter is stretching with the kind of seriousness only a six-year-old takes into warm-ups.

“She’s a professional,” you say, watching her. Aina has Alexia’s determination, her unrelenting focus, and probably her taste for grudges, too. You love that about her.

Alexia stands beside you, taller, proud, her other hand shoved in her jacket pocket. She’s wearing that cropped burgundy Nike YOON cardigan she’s kept all these years in an attempt to maintain her youth. Though you have to admit, she looks better than anyone here has the right to look, which you suspect is deliberate.

“You’re staring,” she says, without looking at you.

“You like when I stare at you”

“I do,” she admits, glancing at you briefly, a triumphant smirk tugging at her lips.

The game kicks off, and the next twenty minutes are a chaotic blur of small children running with alarming intensity. Aina, predictably, is everywhere. The ball seems magnetised to her, and you can’t help but feel that Alexia’s genes are showing off today. She scores twice, both times with a little fist pump that makes your chest ache with pride.

Catalina claps politely. Alexia doesn’t. She cheers, loud and clear, her voice slicing through the sideline chatter like a knife. “¡Bien, Aina! ¡Muy bien!” She throws an arm around your waist as she says it, pulling you in close. You’re not sure if it’s for your benefit or Catalina’s, but you let her have it.

At half-time whistle, Alexia makes a point of leaning in to kiss you She keeps it casual, but the timing is far too perfect to be anything but calculated. Catalina looks over. Alexia doesn’t notice—or pretends not to. You, of course, do.

“Subtle,” you say as she hands you a paper cup of coffee she must’ve queued for while you weren’t paying attention. Or burning holes into Shiny Hairs head.

“Why would I be subtle?” Alexia replies, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re my wife”

Catalina drifts closer during the second half, probably to position herself nearer to the action on the pitch, but you can feel her presence lingering. When Aina scores her third goal, Catalina lets out a low whistle.

“She’s incredible,” Catalina says, beaming at Alexia as if she wasn’t the one who taught your daughter how to feint past a defender.

“She gets it from her mothers,” you say, smiling sweetly. Alexia’s hand finds the small of your back, and you’re almost certain she’s trying not to laugh.

When the game ends, Alexia spends twenty minutes chatting with Aina’s coach, with her arm slung over your shoulders the entire time. It’s less a conversation and more a public exhibition of marital bliss.

In the car, Aina babbles from the backseat about how she’s the best on her team, and Alexia sneaks a glance at you, her expression softer now, almost shy.

“Still mad?” she asks, knowing full well your annoyance with her lasts as long as a sugar cube in water.

You take your time answering, watching the houses blur past the window. “No,” you say eventually, “but next game, I expect you to wear a shirt with my face on it. Maybe one that says, ‘She’s my wife, and she’s always right.’”

“Always right?” she echoes, and you notice a slight lift of her eyebrows under her sunglasses.

“Always,” you reply, deadpan. “That’s non-negotiable”