novice kisses & lit up eyes
you find yourself reciprocating kylar’s feelings in a world that seems to have it out for him
m!kylar x gn!reader | mdni, 4.5k wc, fluff, jealousy, confessions, kissing, handjob, brief mention of self-harm scars, m!robin, light angst, not beta read
part two masterlist read on ao3
The only attention you used to receive other than from your sweet fellow orphan Robin, was the bad kind—like from creeps and Whitney. But ever since a few months ago, Kylar has been clinging to you with no sign of ever letting go.
It scared you at first, how could it not? Trusting others isn’t smart in this town. That mindset quickly dissolved when you noticed him saving you time and time again. Someone crudely hitting on you would drop to the ground, you’d look around and see a familiar silhouette in the distance.
He listens and reacts to everything you say—tears at your sorrows, furrowed brows at your concerns, agreements to all your complaints, smiles at your quips, reddened cheeks at your compliments and comfort.
He cares, and that’s rare in a town like this. You cherish his company.
Sure, you’ve caught him stealing your underwear once or twice…but everyone has their oddities, right? You’ve yet to see it, but you’ve heard he has shrines for you. Maybe you have a couple screws loose for choosing to ignore his behavior, but he hasn’t harmed you in any way (at least not yet).
The point is, it’s easier to see him as a cute clingy puppy. You can envision a wagging tail behind him whenever the two of you hang out. Kinda like right now.
“I’m outta coins,” you sigh, frowning at your empty wallet.
You have more money, but you’re keeping it nice and sound back at the orphanage, a large portion of it will be going to Bailey first thing tomorrow morning.
“I-I can get you some,” Kylar immediately offers, already looking around for the perfect candidate to pickpocket.
“Nah, it’s fine. We’ve been playing for a while, don’t you usually head home around this time?”
Lips upturned and joy brimming in his eyes, he follows you towards and out the exit. You memorized his schedule, that information alone makes it harder for the dirty looks being thrown his way to reach his heart.
“Don’t walk behind me,” slowing down and guiding him forward by pressing your hand on his back, you make sure he’s walking alongside you. “I don’t want someone grabbing you.”
He takes this as an invitation, body now constantly bumping against yours like there’s no other space on the sidewalk (there’s plenty).
Is he even walking in a straight line? Sometimes you can’t tell what he’s thinking, he doesn’t talk much unless you say something first.
“We should go to the cafe together one of these days, the seasonal drinks are really good.”
“I’d love to go with you, but…” He doesn’t like disappointing you. “It’s always really full there, too many people.”
“Mm,” you hum and think. It’d be a shame for him to miss out for such a reason. “Maybe I can buy the drinks and bring them to you?”
“No, you don’t need to buy me anything! Please don’t!” He interjects, eyes wide and looking at you pleadingly. As if ashamed by his small outburst, he mumbles an apology and looks away before quietly asking, “D–Do you have enough for this week?”
You know what he’s referring to.
“Yeah.” You sigh woefully after answering, bummed out by the reality of your situation. Even if you managed to buy your own place one day, Bailey would surely find you and knock down the door. “I’ve been getting better at saving up and finding work but…I don’t know, it’s still hard.”
“If you ever need more, tell me. I can find a way to make money.”
“If it’s something illegal then don’t even think about it, I don’t want the police on your ass. And also I’m not dragging you into this.”
“But–“
“No buts.”
Despite your objections, he musters a smile. You worry about him, and you clearly aren’t just trying to use him. Not that he would completely mind if you did, but still—being cared for felt nice, he hasn’t felt this way in a long time.
And obviously, he loves looking after you too.
“Y-Your shoe’s untied,” he tells you.
That’s a problem, what if you trip while running away from someone? It really sucks that your mind even has to go there in the first place.
Before you can bend down, he’s already on one knee, not caring about how hot the concrete is.
“You don’t need to–“
He continues anyway. He tugs the laces a little too tightly, but you don’t complain.
“…Thanks.”
Once done, Kylar looks up at you. Is the blush on his cheeks from the unforgiving summer heat or from this position?
The emotion in his eyes is peculiar. Come to think of it, he often gazes at you like this—like after you lean in close to whisper gossip to him, or when you sit next to him and brush your leg against his in the process.
Your breathing grows uneven and you get the urge to cover your face. You want to take a stroll in his mind, pluck each thought, and examine them like daisies.
You know he likes you, but the thing about Kylar is that you have to be patient with him even though he can sometimes be the opposite of that when it comes to you. It’s better to let him tell you when he’s ready.
The moment’s interrupted by the blasting music of a passing car. When you turn to look back at Kylar, you find he has already gotten back up and is at your side once more.
The two of you walk in comfortable silence for the next two blocks, until a bustling crowd marks the beginning of Connudatus Street, some steer towards the markets and others towards the strip club. Though Kylar usually keeps his head downcast in the face of crowds, he holds it up high and glares at anyone who’s audacious enough to ogle you.
Everything’s going so well in his mind, but of course, he can never win.
“Isn’t that Robin?” You spot him on the other sidewalk carrying his lemonade stand materials. He’s going back to the orphanage too, you’re surprised you didn’t see him sooner, he must’ve taken a different path.
Kylar tenses up at the name, an ugly and (unfortunately) familiar feeling gnaws at his stomach and makes its way up to shred his heart.
It isn’t fair—Robin always gets so much of your attention, from the way you often sit together at lunch, walk back to the orphanage after school, to late night hang-outs in your room that Kylar third-wheels by spying through your window. All these built-up frustrations bubble to the surface. What if you leave him to go walk with Robin instead? It sounds like something incredibly minuscule but it feels like the end of the world to him.
“I-I don’t know,” he quietly responds, sounding steely. He tries to tug you closer so you pay attention to him instead.
“He could probably use a hand.”
“But he’s made it this far on his own.”
“Yeah, but it’s better to stick together around these parts.” It wasn’t as dangerous as Harvest Street, but it was still bad nonetheless. Carrying things makes you an easier target, and Robin, bless his heart, can’t throw a punch to save his life.
He grits his teeth.
The knife he’s hiding feels a lot more prominent. Nails leave crescent indents on his palms to the point of drawing blood. He should just pull you into one of the alleys so you don’t leave. No, that won’t work, too many witnesses.
“Do you wanna–“ You wince before you finish your thought, a shock spreading all throughout you.
Kylar’s using all his strength to hold your arm—no, more like to crush it to pieces. His grip is relentless no matter how hard you try to shake him off.
“Kylar?”
Blinded by unjustified jealousy, it isn’t until you say his name that he snaps out of it and releases you. He mouths an apology, the words don’t come out.
You try to clear the air but your attempt comes out awkwardly, “…I didn’t know you were that strong, have you been hiding your muscles from me this entire time?” You know he doesn’t have muscles. God.
Kylar doesn’t respond—for better or worse, it doesn’t seem like he even heard you. He’s breathing heavily and shaking like a leaf. A gentle poke can probably send him running, but you take your chances and reach for his hand, he relaxes.
“I was gonna say we should both go help him out together.”
Together.
“Oh.”
He nods, looking at you with puppy-dog eyes that mask the swirl of possessive thoughts in his head and almost make you forget what just happened. While the two of you jay-walk to reach the other sidewalk, he hesitantly soothes your lingering pain by gently rubbing your arm.
Despite Kylar agreeing to help, he’s strings along completely empty-handed, not even granting Robin a simple “hi.” You, on the other hand, now have a couple of signs in one hand, an empty pitcher on the other, and a foldable chair tucked to your side.
Okay. Maybe this was a bad idea.
You’re in the middle. Sunshine from Robin’s side warms you, but Kylar has a grey cloud looming over his head. Goosebumps form on your skin from the two drastically different temperatures.
You try to think of what to say to break the tension. Have you ever seen Kylar’s house? He always says bye and scurries off but you never know where he actually goes.
Before you can ask, Robin speaks up.
“I made more than usual today–“
“W-W won a lot of games at the arcade today, didn’t we?”
The weather goes down by five degrees.
That was an accident, right? But usually when someone interrupts another, they apologize and prompt for the other to repeat themselves. You wait, but nothing happens, so you play it off.
“Yeah, I think with a little more practice we’ll get first place soon for at least one of them. Wait, how much did you make Robin?”
“Fifty-five! It was hotter than usual so I think that’s why. Anyway, you two should swing–”
“We’re hanging out tomorrow, right?”
Kylar’s definitely doing this on purpose.
“Uh…” Who should you even address first this time? You don’t want to upset Kylar, so you go with him again. “Sure, I have a shift tomorrow and I’ll be out at around four, so maybe after that?”
Right, a ‘shift’ You don’t have a steady job and this ‘shift’ isn’t reputable in the slightest, so you don’t specify for the sake of your dignity.
You nudge Robin, “what were you saying?”
This (deeply) uncomfortable process continued for another five minutes, but really, it felt like an entire year before the Danube Steet sign popped into view.
You hear someone sigh, it’s obvious who. Goodbyes have never been easy for him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You ask.
Kylar nods, and walks away like a dejected puppy.
But he doesn’t get very far before he turns back around to hug you—which is awkward because you can’t reciprocate and also shocking because initiating a grand physical gesture like this entirely on his own is uncharacteristic of him.
Is he sniffing you?
He pulls away before you can process it.
“B-Bye!” This time, he actually leaves. You blink and suddenly he’s gone, you can’t tell which way he went.
You’re left with Robin, and you feel like you owe him an apology. “Hey, sorry he kept cutting you off. He doesn’t talk to many people other than me, so I think he’s just a bit…possessive?”
Robin smiles at you and shakes his head. “It’s okay. Actually…I always hear people say mean things about him, I think you’re really admirable for not listening to all that gossip.”
“I was a little skeptical at first but I’ve known him for a couple months now and he’s not a bad person. I wish people would stop picking on him.”
“Do you like him?”
…
“Yeah.”
————
Six PM. That used to be Kylar’s curfew when he was younger, so he makes sure to always come back home around this time to tend to and talk to his parents, then he’s free to leave when he pleases.
Kylar sits criss-cross applesauce on the floor of their room, having grown used to this futile type of communication years ago, all he gets is the same noises. He sees their shining eyes through the rips of the bedsheets. He likes to think they can actually listen from underneath the bed.
“Mom and dad, I-I don’t know what to do. I’ve already told you before, but I really, really like this person.” He holds up a picture of you, as if they can actually see it. “They don’t bully me like everyone else does, and they don’t push me away. How do I make them like me? R-Romantically, I mean.”
He didn’t have the best example of romance growing up because of the fate that befell his parents.
“I don’t wanna be alone again, not anymore. I hurt them earlier…I-I didn’t mean to! I just…” He brings his knees to his chest and buries his head on them. “I’m scared they’ll leave me.”
He sits there for a good ten minutes and pretends they’re consoling him and giving him advice.
Afterwards, he goes to take a bath and then curls up on top of a pile of your clothes. Time passes, the Sun hides, his head hurts from thinking.
Think, think, think.
How can he get you to be equally as in love (obsessed) with him as he is with you? Ideas swarm his mind—a potent love potion like the one he heard about in class, he was good enough at science to give it a try, or maybe he can break his atheism and appeal to a god.
Both are impossible. There’s only one more thing he can do before resorting to any unconventional methods. He might embarrass himself in the process, but his mere existence made him feel embarrassed so he doesn’t have much left to lose.
He throws on his black hoodie before heading out.
——
You never really made it back to the orphanage. After helping Robin, you dipped to go knock and look for work. What kind of a life is this, anyway? Everything you do is for money, you need it to live.
The moon watches over you as you finally make your way back home. Everything’s normal. The crickets are chirping, the streets are more or less empty, the temperature doesn’t have sweat clinging to your skin.
You spot Kylar hiding behind a tree near the steps of the building.
Oh hey, it’s Kylar. You walk right past, nothing’s amiss.
…
Wait a minute.
You backtrack and confront him “Kylar? What are you doing here?”
“I would’ve waited for you on the steps but…”
You follow his gaze to some orphans—who, like you, probably just finished a job of some sort—entering the building. They’ve never been nice to Kylar, not at school, not when bumping into him on the streets, not ever.
“That’s not what I meant, I meant why are you here right now?”
“I have something to tell you.”
“If it’s that urgent, couldn’t you just have snuck in? I mean, correct me if I’m wrong but you seem to know your way around here.”
He turns scarlet upon remembering the few times you caught him rummaging through your drawers.
“I…I…”
“I’m messing with you,” you reassure him, reaching out to ruffle his hair—his eyes visibly light up and he squeaks happily, pushing up against your palm.
Kylar’s gotten a lot more used to your touch. He used to recoil so hard you’d get the impression that you hurt him, you’d apologize, but he’d shake his head and say he didn’t mind it. Looking back at it, you realize that he was probably just really nervous.
“Come on, we can go in together.”
He really likes that last word.
You don’t run into any trouble on the way to your room. Nobody can go into the kitchen at these hours, and the orphans from before are already gone.
You feel a little embarrassed at how shabby all your furniture is, but Kylar’s already seen your room so you didn’t address it. Your bed creaks when you sit down.
He stays standing, despite how much he keeps looking around from trinket to trinket, his gaze always returns to you for a split second. He seems to be waiting for you to prompt him.
“So, what did you wanna tell me?”
Like a fish, his mouth opens then closes until he gathers some courage.
“I really love…I mean like–“ His soft voice raises and then immediately falters. The failed confession is instead covered up by him naming whatever comes to his vision as his eyes dart out the window. “Grass.”
“You smoke?” Surely, he can’t mean actual grass.
“What? No! I-I meant…” Kylar can’t even get the words out.
“How about I guess for now?” Even without guessing, you already know what he wanted to say.
He nods. Up ‘n down, up ‘n down, up ‘n down.
“You like someone?”
Up ‘n down, eyes averted.
“Let’s see,” you feel like fucking with him. “You like…Robin?”
Left ‘n right (and visible disgust on his face in the form of a scowl). You stifle a laugh.
“You like…” Absent-mindedly, you look down as you think hard. On the way, you notice something that’s actually hard.
It blurts out your mouth before you can hold it in.
“You’re hard!?”
Kylar gasps. Erase the definition of ‘mortified’ and replace it with his name instead, same thing.
No, no, no! It wasn’t supposed to go like this! His lust for you wasn’t something he wanted you to know until after he confessed and you reciprocated his feelings. What if you think he’s just a pervert with a hidden agenda like everyone else? Will he now truly have to resort to kidnapping you to get you to love him? He’s panicking.
“I-I’m sorry!”
“Kylar–“
“It won’t happen again, or…or maybe it will! I don’t want to lie to you.”
“Kylar…” You stand up.
“I can’t think straight around you because I-I like you and—“
There it is. You kiss him.
He whines, mind falling silent save for the buzzing of bliss. His cheeks are burning, you feel the heat radiate onto your face. When you pull away, he doesn’t stop you.
“You like me?”
Up ‘n down. Up ‘n down. Up ‘n down. Starry-eyes glazed with longing.
“Since when?”
“S-Since we met.”
“I like you too, Kylar.”
You close the distance again. He cups your face with trembling hands, wasting no time in trying to deepen the kiss. The practice he got in his dreams clearly didn’t transfer over.
“Sorry,” he mumbles in between attempts. “I-I don’t know what I’m doing. This is…this is my first time kissing someone.”
“It’s okay,” you laugh quietly, finding him cute. He can tell you don’t mean anything bad by it, and laughs too.
Eagerly, he experiments to see what feels right. Slow, gentle, fast, rough. It doesn’t help much, he enjoys all paces and intensities as long as it’s with you.
Like an ice cream left out in the heat, he melts when you begin running your fingers through his hair—so much so, that he stops kissing you altogether to bow his head and relish the feeling. Touchstarved, that’s what he is.
Minutes pass, he stays like that, but you can hear him breathing heavily. It suddenly dawns on you that you can feel his bulge pressed up against your leg.
Oh. Right.
“Do you…” Your eyes trail south, and his head finally lifts at the sound of your voice. “Want help with that?”
His mouth opens, nothing comes out except for a whimper.
You wait.
“Y-Yeah.”
With that out of the way, you guide him to your bed, kicking off your shoes in the process, he follows suit. Both of you cringe a little at the loud sound of creaking. Kylar’s head snaps towards the door in the middle of pulling his pants and underwear down to his mid-thighs, scared someone will pass by the door and hear everything.
He’s flat on his back, meanwhile you’re laying on your side next to him.
“Don’t worry, people usually aren’t in the halls this late.”
Reassured, he brings his eyes back towards yours—you aren’t looking back at him, no, instead, your eyes are drawn to his dick. Before you can make a comment, something else catches your attention.
Just above where his pubic hair starts, you spot a word written in pink pen.
“Is that…” You blink in awe. It takes you a while to read it since you’re looking at it upside down—actually, how did he even write it like that then? It’s your name.
Boldly, you trace over it. His breath hitches and his hips raise.
“Um…” He has a hard time answering in a timely manner, a little too turned on to find the words. “I-I read somewhere that writing a person’s name on your body could make them…like you. M-Manifestation, I think?”
“Well, not to call that method bullshit or anything…but I’ve liked you for a while so I don’t think it’s ‘cause of that.”
“I’m glad…” So he managed to charm you all on his own? He isn’t sure how that happened but he’s incredibly happy.
“Do you have it written anywhere else?”
With a blush, he takes off his shirt and hoodie. Sure enough, your name is also written on the left side of his chest, right where his heart is.
So, his heart is quite literally beating beneath your name.
“That’s cute.” You lean over briefly to place a kiss on it, he squirms.
“Y-You really think so?!”
You hum in agreement, reaching down to wrap your hand around the base of his dick.
“Ah!” He gasps, completely caught off guard.
He’s sensitive. Not only is he touch-starved, but even though he’s gotten himself off to the thought of you countless times, it has never once felt as good as the mere touch of your hand.
He watches your hand go up and down, up and down, and up and down with half-lidded eyes, completely mesmerized by your movements.
Eventually, embarrassment washes over him, he shuts his eyes and thrashes his head to the side, your pillow is temporarily cold against his cheek before his skin heats it up.
“F-Faster,” the demand feels foreign on his tongue, but he’s needed you for so long that he can’t take it.
You oblige and it doesn’t take long for pre-cum to bead out. You let it lather on your fingers and palm by focusing on the tip.
Kylar shudders and heaves endless apologies each time his hips snap up on his own and make your bed creak. “Sorrysorrysorry—ahh—sorrysorry…”
Swish, swish, swish. You’re stroking him again, circling over the tip each time before going back down to the base.
“Does this feel good?”
If he was a confident person, he’d ask if you were fishing for compliments. Instead, he just nods fervently and whimpers.
“I’ve…I’ve never been touched there. You’re the first to…” He saved everything for you—his first kiss and all other virginities—there’s no one else he’d want to give them to.
It was just hard. He was practically horny at all times of the day because you were the only thing on his mind from day to night, and his thoughts were less than innocent half the time.
His head turns to the other side, now close to yours, you can easily brush your nose against his. You lean in, pressing your lips against his. Unlike last time, he doesn’t shut up. No, he gets louder.
The taste of blood permeates your mouth, you try to pull away but he just raises his head to chase after you, paying no mind to the sting of his bottom lip from having bit down on it so hard. Each kiss is messier than the last, not even music could drown out the noises.
Over the years, he’s watched porn, and he truly thought he deserved the treatment he saw in lots of videos—being slapped, degraded, thrown around—but here you are, treating him with utmost care. It’s not like he wouldn’t be turned on by the former treatment if it was done by you, he’s just surprised this is how his first ever sexual interaction is going.
“C-Can you say it again?” He pleads in a daze as he pulls away. A thin layer of sweat makes him glow, messy strands of hair stick to his forehead.
“Say what?”
“That you like me…”
You smile, what an endearing request. It almost makes you forget that you’re stroking his dick.
“I like you.”
A shaky moan. He twitches in your grasp.
You move close to his ear, lips brushing against the shell. “I really, really like you, Kylar.”
Now you’ve done it. He tenses in regular Kylar fashion, so you think nothing of it.
It isn’t until you see a rope of white land on his stomach that you realize he’s cumming. You press down a little harder, coaxing him through his orgasm until he’s milked dry.
Actually, he came a lot. You didn’t know he had all that in him.
Tears are rolling down his face and for a moment you’re at a loss. But the next moment, he’s tugging you close to him.
“Inside—“ He gently flutters kisses all over your face, not even attempting to regain his breath. His tears smear onto your skin. “I wanna be inside you next time.”
You don’t get a chance to say anything before he shouts out in dismay, “Wait!”
“What? What is it?”
“You didn’t get off! Y-You made me feel so good…that isn’t fair. Here, let me–“
“It’s okay.”
“A-Are you sure?”
“Really, it’s okay. I’m really tired anyway. Next time you can…um…you know, if you want. Just come here.”
He turns on his side and curls into you, tucking his face into your chest and clutching the back of your shirt. You kiss the crown of his head and hear him sigh dreamily in response. Running a hand up and down his arm, you can feel sections of raised skin but you don’t bring it up.
You then speak, “I can’t believe it took you this long to tell me.”
“Y-You knew?!”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Why didn’t you?”
“…I was scared…scared you wouldn’t like me back. But, I’m glad you do.”
“You know, you should get the writing of my name tattooed.”
“D-Don’t say that, because I’ll actually do it if you want me to.”
There hadn’t been an official statement from you—the ‘what are we’ talk didn’t happen. It didn’t need to, he was your boyfriend now, no question about it.
You returned his feelings. You kissed him. You pleasured him. You’re holding him. You’re his now. Isn’t that how this works?
You awake the next morning without him in your arms, you’re not sure what time he snuck out. What you do find, though, is something nobody would normally leave—his folded underwear on your desk.
