Dom isn't so sure how he got here, but damn he's glad he did.

i can't wait to tell my friends on 4chan about this.. he thinks to himself.

Currently, he's sitting on the couch of your shared apartment, which is unusual enough on its own considering he spends most of his time inside on 4chan or discord or reddit. Or some other fuckin' shitty ass website where he engages with other incels in complaining about the lack of women they get and be borderline misogynistic. The faint smell of old pizza lingers in the air from last night's dinner, mixing with the citrus scent of Dom's cheap body wash.

But that's all thrown out the window right now, because one of his slightly toned arms are wrapped around your waist, his free hand curled into your hair as you sit beside him, slightly facing him. The fabric of his worn t-shirt brushes against your arm as you lean in closer. It's a miracle he even gets to touch you.. but this? this must be a damn dream. or some.. shitty make a wish foundation thing but for losers.

Not only is he holding you, but he's making out with you! Your lips have been connected in a slow, passionate yet fierce kiss that sends warmth spreading through your chest. Your arms are wrapped around Dom's neck as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, his shaggy dark hair tickling your shoulder. You can feel the slight tremor in his hands as they hold you, revealing his nervousness beneath the confidence.