#this is a great question but incredibly hard to answer

[bookcub]

Cozy Fantasy and Why It Doesn't Work

I think I am among many who feel like they should love cozy fantasy and have found it an incredibly lacking genre.

This newly branded "cozy fantasy" genre that has taken readers by storm since 2020 and while it is new that books are now marketed as cozy, the genre itself isn't new. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a great example of the genre before it was labeled and also how to make it work.

Cozy fantasy is defined by many as fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy aesthetic but less sword fights. On paper, it sounds great. But the execution has been less than stellar for readers like me. The lack of physical stakes has also impacted the emotional stakes of these books, creating forgettable characters with boring problems. As a romance reader, I find this frustrating. Romance is known for being a predictable and formulaic genre, the now defunct Romance Writers of America defined romances as needing happy endings, a term romances have continued to follow. Yet these romance texts manage to have low physical stakes (how to date your neighbor, how to confront your toxic friends, etc) while still maintaining high personal stakes that keep readers invested and begging for more. So I was initially confused why cozy fantasy authors struggle to write texts that connect to readers like me.

I think I have found the answer which is the genre is just here for vibes. It is all about aesthetic, not even worldbuilding that fantasy is known for as most cozy fantasy I read have so many problems as soon as you ask one question. It is hard to acknowledge that a genre that is pitched to work for readers like me doesn't work for many of us. Especially because occasionally there is one that works beautifully to my taste.

I often say my favorite cozy fantasies that are more contemporary are short and visual, which I plays into the idea of the genre being an aesthetic. The Bakery Dragon by Devin Elle Kurtz is a good example because it is a simple story that is given the perfect amount of pages and gorgeous visuals without dragging on when the message is very clear and easy to understand. Books like The Phoenix Keeper and Legends and Lattes have absolutely nothing for me, their very clear message hitting the reader over and over so the readers don't miss it and focusing on the aesthetic of worldbuilding rather than the reality of the fantastic elements within the world.

I guess my point is. . . I realize this genre isn't for me since I have realized it is more of an aesthetic than anything. .. .but I want it to be. Should I let it go and put my efforts elsewhere? Or should I keep exploring this new trend and find the hidden gems?

[rrezshifts]

theodorian, the son set to inherit a multi-million dollar wine company, made headlines for bringing a date to a grecian celebration. it’s not common for the son of one of the richest men in athens to bring dates to these types of events. when he had though, it was his friends and clearly stated as such. most of the man’s quote-on-quote relationships, never made it past the bedroom according to gossip articles.

the last the public had heard of these relationships was through gossip that the man had found a new paramour, a different person than who theo is seen with now. however, the greek was said to have been seen leaving parties alone less than a week after that gossip came out. more weeks went by as social media pages were dry with any gossip on theo and who he may or may not be with.

now, not too long after the celebration, theo has come out as in a relationship with the date he brought that night. that date has no reports of being a long past partner of the man either. theo and this man have graciously agreed to do an interview on their relationship with me, in hopes of satiating the fans need for gossip and information.

< interviewer > hi! it’s great to meet the both of you!

< theo > you too!

<???> great to meet you too!

< interviewer > let’s start with what everyone wants to know, who are you?

<???> my name is chrysanthos of athens, you can just call me chrys though.

< interviewer > do we get any other information on who you are?

< chrys > um… go ahead.

< theo > he is an actor! and a damn good one. he’s so incredibly talented! he’s a kind man, caring, and determined. he’s also very honest and he’s a hard worker!

< interviewer > is that so?

< chrys > he’s better at describing me then i am. i gave him permission to answer those kind of questions before hand.

< interviewer > to start, theo is a well known name in greece, but especially in athens. did you know about him before you met?

< chrys > not much… i would see newspapers with his face on it and a headline talking about his love life. i had assumptions, but i didn’t think of those assumptions too much. i was more focused on my career, and i was never one for gossip.

< interviewer > did those assumptions affect your first time meeting him?

< chrys > *chuckles* very much so. i met him at his family’s party, i’m rarely invited to parties, especially ones this lavish and big. and i had caught him staring at me numerous times throughout the first couple hours of this party. i had assumed he wanted to sleep with me. so when he approached me, i was expecting confidence and boldness. but instead i was met with awkwardness and stammering. he shook my hand, introduced himself, and when i introduced myself back he said, and i quote “i know.” i raised an eyebrow at him and he rambled out an explanation before making up an excuse to run away. i was shocked to say the least.

< interviewer > do i get an explanation on how you knew chrys’ name?

< theo > why not! a week prior to this party, i had gone to see a play at Dionysus’ theatre as i do regularly as a devotional act for Dionysus. it was a play i’d seen many times before. and every time the same actor played the main character. that night however, chrys had taken his place. i was entranced by him and his talent and the way he performed on stage. i had grown a crush in those first 5 minutes he was on stage that continued until the end of the show. i ended up looking in the plays program to find the slip of paper that explained the veteran actors replacement and what his replacements name was.

< chrys > he had looked me up on social media too.

< theo > no stop! that sounds creepy *covers his face with hands*

< chrys > *chuckles* and i later found out he was the reason i was included in the theatre troupes invite to his family’s party that night.

< theo > me staring at him for two hours straight was me just trying to work up the courage to talk to him.

< interviewer > from the stories the public has heard about you, some would say that’s very unlike you.

< theo > it is! he just made me very nervous. because this time i cared if i fucked it up… shoot! can i swear?

< interviewer > *nods* yes you can theo

< theo > oh okay good! he was one i couldn’t risk fucking shit up with in any way. and it felt like i did! i was terrified! i just ran away convinced i ruined everything!

< interviewer > so how did that first meeting turn into where you are now? or another way to put it, how did you find out you didn’t ruin everything, theo?

< theo > after about 15 minutes of me panicking and anxiously rambling to my best friend, i had felt a tap on my shoulder. when i turned around it was chrys. he wanted to know if we could continue talking somewhere. i looked to my friend and she just motioned for me to go. i told him yes, and he asked if there was somewhere more quiet so i took him to the balcony, which is usually locked during our parties.

< interviewer > chrys, were there any plans going into asking theo if there was somewhere more quiet? sounds very risqué.

< chrys > oh my god, no! it was just really loud and i think i was starting to hear moaning, and i’d never been to a party like that before, so it was more of just a chance to escape.

< interviewer > theo did you think he was trying to get you into bed with him?

< theo > honestly i don’t know what i was thinking other than panicking, trying to focus on my breathing and be as calm as possible. but i believed him when he told me he had no plans to try and seduce me.

< interviewer > so what did you guys talk about on that balcony?

< chrys > i asked him about himself, he asked me about myself. we talked about our family and our childhood. we talked for what felt like hours, but the party still had not died down. half way through someone brought us wine, i barely noticed, didn’t ask. but we both drank away. he asked me about my dreams, offered to talk to people and pull some strings to get me a better leg up but i refused. told him why-

< theo > and i fell for him ever harder because of it.

< chrys > *chuckles* yes, he tells me all the time how much he adores my ambition, and my need to succeed on my own.

< interviewer > and how did the night end for you two?

< chrys > it barely did if we’re being honest.

< theo > *awkwardly laughs* well as you can expect after numerous glasses of wine, and mutual interest, flirting began between us. nothing raunchy more so just…

< chrys > romantic. i would say at least!

< theo > yes very romantic. we would compliment each others appearance in soft ways, compliment each others personality even… then he escalated the flirting to more than just romantic, and next thing i knew i was grabbing his hand and leading him around the corner of our wrap around patio, down the stairs that led to the second floor wrap around patio, and brought him straight into my room.

< interviewer > so you two slept together that night?

< chrys > yes… to be fair though, he did tell me we didn’t have to, that we could just talk in his room. though, fun fact, when i asked if he took all his hook-ups to his room this way, i also found out that his hook-ups think they’ve seen his room, but in reality only see a guest room on the fourth floor.

< interviewer > oh wow! so chrys was important to you, huh theo?

< theo > very much so! he spent the night, ate breakfast (or more so brunch) with my family, and stayed a little into the day until i finally let him leave muahaha !! though i was scared he wouldn’t want to see me again. i brought up seeing him again at breakfast, and he told me, “i was hoping i meant more to you than just one night given that i’m sat in your sleepwear eating omelettes with you at 12pm.”

< interviewer > so i assume you two saw each other again due to our current setting *laughs*

< chrys > *laughs* yes, we saw each other again.

< interviewer > how did you two view your relationship prior to the red carpet event where you, theo, took chrys as your date?

< theo > from the beginning i viewed him as so much more than what any of my past encounters have been. the goal was never just sex with him. i just wanted him in my life, no matter if it was just friends or if it was more. when things evolved, i don’t think there was a label that could be assigned to it. but i basically viewed him as my almost boyfriend, i mean if he asked me to be his boyfriend any time after we woke up the night after, i would have said yes… which some say would’ve been dumb. *laughs*

< interviewer > and you chrys?

< chrys > at the beginning, i was worried i was just one of his conquests. i knew his hook-ups were never just one night for him, and i thought that was my fate. i viewed it this way until, not long after, he asked me to hang out. not have sex, but hang out. then i thought… maybe he wants friends with benefits? which then got quieted down as theo began singing my praises in the most romantic ways, as well as when i began noticing how he looked at me in the most heart wrenching ways. and these actions were consistent, he told me he was seeing no one else, and that he didn’t plan on it either. it was just me. and soon i saw it the same way he did… we were almost boyfriends! until he asked me out the same day he asked me to be his date to the event.

< interviewer > so what was the timeline of you two first meeting and then becoming boyfriends?

< chrys > i would say… theo saw me preform. a week later we met. three to four weeks later he asked me out.

< interviewer > that’s so short! i can’t imagine how sure you two have to be with that timeline! it’s very cute. are you worried about what people may say when they see that timeline?

< theo > personally i am not because i’ve lived through this kind of attention and constant scrutiny from the public my whole life. but i understand chrys has not had that kind of attention and i know he’s worried. which makes me worried for him. i wish i could make that shit not affect him, but that’s not how it works, so i’ll be there for him when it does.

< chrys > there’s so much i know i have to be ready for, and i know it’ll suck. but it’s worth it to be with theo, truly. as long as we’re happy, i don’t care.

< interviewer > that’s very sweet, i wish the best for both of you! thank you so much for speaking with me!

< theo > thank you so much, it was a pleasure.

< chrys > yes, thank you.

genuinely thank you if you read all or any of this !! i’m also genuinely so proud of this even if it’s a bit ass. so thank you if you gave it even a little of attention 💕🫶

[uconnwbbcrashout]

i have so many thoughts about this game i had to make a blog for it.

first, congratulations where they are due:

usc is an incredible team. so much talent and i think they are going to continue to be a problem for teams for a long time (and well into march).

juju watkins did what juju watkins does! she is a class act and the way she can make shots for herself is incredible to watch.

kiki iriafen. so dominant in and out of the lane. uconn didn't have a good answer for her. very easy to see why she's projected to go so high in the draft.

overall just great ball (especially in the first half) from usc. they figured out uconn's weaknesses defensively and made them pay for it.

things that i think uconn did well:

kk gave them a fighting chance. literally don't know where the game would've went without her. i have no idea why she didn't play in the 4th quarter (wtf geno??). love her energy and her quickness, and she should've had more minutes at the end of the game imo.

paige came alive and stepped up when they needed her to. i think she should not be playing off the ball as much as she does, but she did well particularly in the second half to create shots for herself!

even though she had a bit of an "off night" (if you can even call it that), sarah was still really great as usual. definitely a few mistakes due to inexperience but also lots of great plays that show maturity you wouldn't expect from a freshman.

i was feeling a bit iffy about morgan's play after the first half, but i think she found her footing and stepped up into the defensive role they needed her to play late in the game. like with sarah, some inexperience-related mistakes but also some really promising decision making (e.g., that backdoor cut she made in the 3rd quarter i want to say?).

things that drove me crazy as a uconn fan:

this game was very, very winnable. usc was the better team tonight, but i think uconn could still be the better team overall. they fought like hell to get back into the game, but it didn't have to be this way to start with. the first half was a disaster--offensively, defensively, and all around.

so many questionable coaching decisions that i don't even know where to begin. why was azzi completely underutilized with the limited minutes she could play? (i.e., why weren't plays being run for her to get better shots?) why is ice still in the starting lineup? why was paige guarding juju when it was clear she was having a hard time keeping up with her? (obviously love paige, but this was just not the right defensive matchup!!) why didn't kk come back in even though she was leading the comeback in the 3rd? why aren't they guarding the perimeter? WHY WAS NO TIMEOUT CALLED AT THE END OF THE GAME FOR THE LAST SHOT? just so many questionable choices that i fear i will never understand.

i love ice as a person, but she is not moving me. i don't know that they need her in the starting lineup anymore. unless they are playing a team where they are undersized, i personally don't think it's needed. her defense just has to get better.

turnovers, man. so. many. turnovers. and so many turnovers right off of a steal! i also think they just need to work on court awareness in general.

free throws. they've struggled so hard to get to the line this season, and when they finally do this game, they can't convert. 10/17 is rough, but in a game decided by 2 points? devastating.

their inconsistency from the 3 is killing me. how they can go from a record-setting 20 in the last game to 6 in this game astounds me. obviously usc's defense is better than iowa state, but still. and it's especially brutal when the other team is shooting from range so well.

paige needs to be bringing the ball up more. it's difficult for her to get touches on the ball if she's not since she's guarded so heavily. the point is just where she plays best, and i think it makes the most sense. idfk what geno was on with saying the team was trying too hard in the first half to get paige the ball. imo she wasn't getting it enough. the plays move through her.

help defense is killing them against teams that can shoot the 3, and it's even letting teams who aren't great from the 3 (e.g., usc) make more than they should. i cannot fathom why uconn is so insistent on dropping back to help prevent a 2, but is completely fine with letting teams continue to shoot wide open 3s (ESPECIALLY when the other team is making the majority of the 3s they are taking in the game). if uconn's down, how are they ever going to get back into the game if they can only match the other team's wide open 3s with contested 2s?? simple math really--they can't.

the last 5 seconds of the game. it sucks that sarah missed her free throws (not all on her though--the whole team shot poorly at the line tonight), but paige did good to get the rebound at the end. but when sarah got the ball, she had no idea how much time was left because her back was to the basket. she didn't know there were 2.5 seconds left! why did no one call a timeout??? i cannot get over this. that last shot basically from halfcourt with a whole 2.5 seconds left was so unnecessary. they could've drawn something up and at least gotten a better look.

some stuff to be somewhat happy about, but just a lot to work on. another loss is obviously not the end of the world, but it just sucks seeing them lose another game that easily could've (and maybe even should've) been in their control.

[erikahenningsen]

Top 5 fictional universes (movies/tv/stage/books)

I tried to think of universes that substantially deviate from a realistic one—like stuff that requires worldbuilding, so this isn't just a list of Media I Really Like.

The Hunger Games (series). My favorite worldbuilding ever, I reread them over and over and never get bored.

Everything Everywhere All At Once (technically infinite universes I guess)

Angels in America

Orphan Black (S1E1 best setup for any piece of media ever)

Jupiter Ascending

Sleepover Saturday

[moonchild-in-blue]

make yourself a musical fruit salad using songs by your favorite artist. choose a song to go with each fruit you select (you need at least five fruits, but i shall not police your fruit selection-- make the tastiest, grooviest fruit salad your heart could possibly desire🖤)

Oh my worm, this is such an interesting question! Thank you Em!! 💙

Okay, so my two favourite artists would probably be Linkin Park and BTS, for very similar close-to-my-heart reasons. And since they are WILDLY different sound-wise, I will give you two different fruit salads hehehe

First, the fruits!

Orange 🍊 -> obvious choice, zesty and sweet, brings everyone together with its juice; a refreshing favourite

Apple 🍎 -> solid, classic, reliable ; probably an oldie throwback

Mango 🥭 -> smooth, sexy lady with a groove; perhaps slightly unexpected

Strawberry 🍓 -> tangy, slightly acidic; a bittersweet one

Grapes 🍇 -> underrated bops bursting with flavour once you give them a try; a fun one

Melon 🍈 -> my favourite fruit so my personal favourite

Now for the salads:

Linkin Park Fruit Salad:

🍊 In The End - the song that gets everyone turned up, she's the mainstream queen for a reason!!

🍎 Numb - had to get this one here as well because, really, you can't leave it out

🥭 Lost In The Echo - Living Things is a very important album to me (and my second favourite from them), and I do NOT see enough conversation about it. Lost In The Echo is a fenomenal song, and probably one of my favourite Chester x Mike moments

🍓 The Messenger - just typing the name of this song got the water fountains going. "When life leaves us blind, love keeps us kind" is a lyric that I will carry with me until the day I die

🍇 In Between - for the sake of "underrated" I purposely chose something from after the first 2 albums. In Between is criminally underrated imo, which is a shame since it's such a sweet song sung by Mike (which is rare since he hardly ever gets a solo song). Bonus underrated AND fun - When They Come For Me

🍈 Breaking The Habit - I could go on and on about why I love this song so so much, but I don't want to get sad. 13 yo me made it this far thanks to her 💙

BTS Fruit Salad:

🍊 Fire - THE hype song ever, it's physically impossible to be sad listening to her, helloooo 🔥 🔥

🍎 Spring Day - the fan favourite, of course I had to get her in here. Queen of the charts

🥭 Autumn Leaves & Home - this is my salad so I'll put extra mango if I want. Both of these are SO sexy in their own way, and since they're pretty far apart it'd only be fair to get them both in here

🍓 We Are Bulletproof : The Eternal - at first I thought about either 2! 3! or Young Forever, but We Are Bulletproof holds such a special, heavy meaning, considering the time it was released, and the overall theme of the album. I can't really listen to it without getting all choked up 🥺

🍇 Hip-Hop Lover & We On - putting 2 songs again because I can. These are VERY old BTS songs, and still remain some of my favourites. It's a shame so many newer fans outright refuse to listen to their older, not-so-polished stuff, cus it's fantastic really

🍈 Run - my mostest absolute Bangtan favourite, she's beauty, she's grace, she's so fun and devastating and aaaaaaa. AMAZING era that was, superior mv, just overall wowowowow

[miserye]

the dudes around me w phds are weirdos

[loaksky]

— come a little closer

hockey jock!vi x tutor!reader, fluff / humor / angst / kinda slowburn / smut (18+ mdni!), wc: 16k+ [buckle your seatbelts bc i could not shut the fuck up about vi if i wanted to !]

synopsis: you’re many things; an exemplary student, quiet and well-mannered, loved immensely by those who bother to get to know you, but most importantly, the newfound object of superstar athlete vi’s every affection. or, in other words, hockey jock!vi is lowkey a loser, atrociously down bad, and will stop at nothing to make you hers.

content warnings: language (duh), brief mentions of familial issues, latent insecurity, miscommunication & lack of communication, kissing, groping, SEX! mdni, seriously, i’ll THROW UP!, more specifically fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), spitting, makeup sex idk, just good old fashioned lesbian BANGING! also! jazz cabbage, lets pretend for the sake of this au that student athlete’s don’t get tested bc i NEED hockey jock!vi to hotbox reader PLS.

fic soundtrack: i could imagine —alina baraz /snooze — sza /tonight — summer walker / pressure — james vickery + sg lewis / wish that i could — umi

author’s note: of course it’d be arcane s2 that resurrects me from my almost yearlong hiatus...pls enjoy this fic even though i’m pretty rusty; she’s been cooking in the drafts for weeks T-T i’ll be answering some (very long overdue) asks and chatting with you guys <3 and finally, this shit is barely proofread bc my brain is fried lol

main masterlist | arcane masterlist

VI HAS A HUGE PROBLEM.

One that supersedes every issue she’d ever given weight to in all of her four (and a half) years of university. Is way larger than twice-a-day practices on and off the ice that go hand-in-hand with studying so hard to make sure that her grades don’t slip a fraction. Probably way bigger than the fact that her little sister’s graduating high school soon and she’s trying her absolute best to be as great a role model as she can despite wanting to crack under the pressure. And most definitely bigger than her favorite on-again-off-again fling, Cait Kiramann, who’s rare to come by these days.

Vi has a huge problem, and quite frankly, it’s you.

In hindsight, she’s been relatively good at overlooking you, not that it’d been intentional to begin with, but Vi knows a lot of people. Too many, she feels sometimes. So it's easy for you to slip through the cracks when everyone’s vying for even a shred of her attention.

Perhaps it’s what piques her interest when your orbits finally do collide. Because, admittedly, you know all about Vi. Know that she’s probably one of the most valuable players on the uni’s hockey team (she’s an absolute beast on the ice). Also know that she’s a biomedical physics major and actually incredibly smart. But most of all, you know that not only is Violet a flirt, she’s a player.

Not necessarily that you’ve ever really been on the receiving end, but mostly because her reputation precedes her and you’ve seen it all from a distance. Can't not when the decorated hockey star is such a charmer whether she intends to be or not. Vi has girls both certain and questioning stumbling for a single glance.

You often think it’s pitiful, but it’s not like it’s really your problem.

Until it is.

It all starts at The Afterparty.

Hours after a big victory in the first game of three that solidifies whether the university hockey team participates in the championships, Violet is the star of tonight’s celebration.

She’d sunk the winning shot, and for that she’s being poured shot after celebratory shot. By eleven she’s practically hammered and it’s when her teammate, Ellie, and the captain, Abby, finally show up.

The three of them together, drunk, is like a minefield of obnoxious laughter, dirty innuendos, and rowdy behavior.

And for a while it’s funny, has Vi feeling like she’s on cloud nine, but eventually, the drunken high begins to evaporate and she starts to feel a little overwhelmed.

The spotlight shifts and even though Vi typically preens under the attention, she’s grateful to finally breathe.

With a plastic cup full of water, she’s sliding the back door open and stepping out onto the back patio to take in the cool air for a breather.

She makes a move towards the stairs, but nearly jumps out of her skin when she registers the silhouette at the base of the steps.

“Jesus, fuck,” Vi hisses to herself. “You scared the shit outta me.”

You don’t even spare her a glance over your shoulder, just take a sip from your drink.

“Sorry,” you hum passively.

She catches her breath, doesn’t even bother to ask permission as she drops all of her weight next to you.

The step creaks under pure muscle.

Her strong legs stretch out, elbows settling back against the step up as she waits. And waits. And waits.

The amount of silence that lapses is unusual, uncharacteristic for Vi, especially so because people are typically babbling enough to fill the void when it comes to her.

But you just sit there, nursing your beer and staring up at the stars. The moon hangs half in the sky, softly illuminating the planes of your features.

It’s her first good look at your face and Vi’s definitely drunk, but the immediate thought that comes to her mind is pretty, pretty, pretty. Undeniably and painfully pretty. And not Caitlyn pretty, the only girl she’s ever really used as a benchmark, but intimidatingly so in your own right. Makes her swallow hard, throat bobbing as she watches you unapologetically.

“It’s rude to stare, Violet,” you say simply, eyes finally flitting to meet hers.

Her breath catches in her throat, earthy flecks dancing in your moonlit irises. God, your eyes. Framed by thick lashes and round as you look up at her.

“You know who I am?” she asks stupidly as if point fives of her face aren’t blown up into memes and plastered all over the house.

“Who doesn’t?” you ask, breathing a puff of humorless laughter as you crush the can in your ringed fingers.

And perhaps you got her there, but Vi’s feeling exceptionally small under your gaze despite usually filling out a room. Something about you makes her shrink.

“I— fuck,” Vi stumbles, cheeks red because you’re looking at her with an indecipherable gleam in your gaze that has her squirming. “What’s your name?”

She cringes at herself, rolls the piercing in her nose once, twice, for comfort.

You laugh again, a little more genuine this time because, from a distance, the athlete’s usually so suave, undeniably gorgeous and composed. Right now, the girl in front of you only ticks one of those boxes.

“________,” you offer.

She weighs the name on her tongue, decides she likes it a lot, and tries to shake off whatever this feeling you’re giving her is.

“And you go to school here?” she asks.

You nod once.

“Neuroscience, fourth year.”

“Huh, we’re in similar fields, but I’ve never seen you around,” Vi observes. Because she’s certain she’d bookmark a face like yours, absolutely no doubt about it.

“We had organic chemistry together sophomore year with Dr. Talis,” you say matter-of-factly, like you’re not blowing her mind right now. “And I’m auditing Medarda’s biometry class this semester.”

Vi’s floored.

“Wait, wait, but...” She’s trying to piece the puzzle together, but her brain’s still a little fuzzy, equal parts from the alcohol, but also because she’s caught a whiff of your perfume and you smell so sweet.

“I pop in every once in a while,” you tell her. “But I tutor in that time slot every Tuesday and Thursday, only really go when I don’t have any appointments.”

“Hold on, this is nuts,” Violet says, body easing to face you. You flinch because she doesn’t realize she’s practically yelling. “There’s no way, I definitely would’ve remembered you if that was the case.”

You hum, corners of your lips quirking as you shrug your shoulders.

“Doubt it,” you counter. “I’m nothing particularly spectacular.”

“Nothing particularly spectacular,” Vi repeats under her breath.

And under normal circumstances, she’d be flirting up a storm right now, trying to charm her way into getting you to bite, but this is one of the first semblances of normalcy she’s experienced in a while. No ulterior motives, no exaggerated kindness, no outright asking her to fuck.

Suddenly your phone lights up in your lap and you’re turning your attention to the device.

“DD duties call,” is all you say as you make a move to stand up.

No, this can’t be all she gets from you tonight. Not when she’s been narrowly missing someone like you for the past four years and you’re just now coming to light.

The dormant liquid courage bubbles and Vi’s gently grabbing your wrist to pull you to a stop.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” she asks, steely eyes liquid as she stares up at you.

You eye the scar on her lip, gaze lingering there before flitting to meet hers.

“Maybe.”

Vi decides that she needs to see you again.

You’d left her with crumbs this past Friday night and she’d spent the better part of the weekend trying (and failing) to cross paths with you again.

“Jesus, you’re down bad,” Ellie chuffs Monday morning on their walk to the campus coffee shop.

“You don’t understand,” Vi defends. “She’s so...so...”

“So?”

“Different, I dunno,” Vi sighs, fiddling with the strap of her backpack as they walk. “We didn’t even talk about much, but that was the most normal I’ve felt around someone in a while.”

Her teammate snorts.

“Probably the gayest thing I’ve heard you say,” Ellie deadpans. “She isn’t immediately trying to munch and you’re already in love. Pathetic.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Vi scoffs as they approach the coffee shop, inside packed full with half-functioning college students so early in the morning. “Trust me, if you met her, you’d—”

The words die in her throat because halle-fucking-lujah, the universe or god, or whatever has answered her every prayer this past weekend as she clocks you a few paces ahead in line.

Ellie follows her friend’s line of vision to find exactly what she’s staring at and she lets out a low whistle when her gaze finds your frame.

From a completely aesthetic standpoint, she can see why Vi’s immediately hooked.

“Hah,” she makes a noise in her throat. “Okay, so maybe it makes sense.”

Vi can’t help but stare because, if it were possible, you were far prettier under the warm lighting of the cafe’s ambiance. The curls of your hair frame your face beautifully and it’s so fucking cute how focused you are on your phone.

“Hate to break it to you, though. That girl’s way out of your league,” Ellie says like it’s common knowledge.

“Wow, way to boost my ego,” Vi mutters drily.

“Just being realistic,” Ellie argues. “If you bag her, she’s easily the hottest girl you’ve been with.”

And Vi can’t really contest that, not when the proof’s in the fucking pudding.

Her body’s moving of its own accord and before she can register her own actions, she’s mumbling quiet s’cuse me’s under her breath as she squeezes between patrons to close a bruised hand over your shoulder.

You nearly jump out of your skin, fumbling with your phone as an earbud falls out.

“Shit, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Vi says quickly.

Your gaze snaps to her, brows furrowing almost imperceptibly before your expression settles.

“Violet,” you acknowledge.

And she realizes that she didn’t really have a game plan coming up to you so abruptly. Had been so focused on actually just seeing you again, that she hadn’t thought through the rest of it.

The way you stare up at her is thoroughly disarming because she doesn’t have the shield of night or alcoholic courage to carry her through it.

“Can I help you?” you ask, but not unkindly.

“Oh, uh, I...” She chances a glance over her shoulder to find that Ellie is watching her from a few customers away, eyebrow cocked and smirk testing. She word vomits before she can think of a coherent thought. “You mentioned tutoring...the last time we talked.”

You don’t even bat an eye.

“I did.”

“You’re also auditing Medarda’s biometry class.”

“I am.”

“I’m...I’m not really doing too hot in Medarda’s right now,” Vi says, brain nearly short-circuiting and freezing up because, lie! She’s doing phenomenally in Medarda’s session and, truthfully, she’s just downright scared to ask you to hang out.

Especially when you look up at her like that.

You shift and she’s swallowing down around nothing.

“Hmm, can’t have that, can we?” you hum.

Vi could melt.

“No,” she breathes out a laugh. “Can’t.”

“You can sign up for a slot through the library’s website,” you say after you weigh the thought.

Vi’s pausing, staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“So I can get paid?” you fill in.

“Oh, right,” Vi chokes. “Right.”

You give her a soft smile before plugging your earbud back in, leaving Vi to rejoin her obviously amused friend.

“You’re fucking joking!”

The librarian gives you and your incredulous roommate a look from the circulation desk and you return it with a sheepish smile from where you’re tucked by a wall of looming floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Maddie,” you whisper.

“You’re telling me that The Violet asked you personally to tutor her?” Maddie asks you, leaned over the tabletop with wide eyes.

“Yeah, cornered me at Brew House this morning and asked me to tutor her in Medarda’s class.”

“Just that?” she asks. “Nothing else?”

You look around in disbelief.

“Uh, yeah?” you scoff. “What else would she want?”

“What else would she— are you serious?” Maddie leans back in her seat, arms crossing over her chest as she gives you a plain look. “You know all about Vi, you’re actually gonna play stupid?”

“Oh, come on.” You roll your eyes. “You’ve seen the girls Violet’s fucked, right? Kiramann? The blonde from the tennis team? She’s got a type and you know it.”

It’s Maddie’s turn to roll her eyes and you see the exasperated groan she’s staving off.

“None of that self-deprecating bullshit—”

“It’s not self-deprecating!” you argue. “Not everyone wants to fuck Violet, Maddie. Put me in the number one spot.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t start.”

“All I’m saying is that anyone with eyes can see that Vi’s hot as fuck. That being said, you’re also hot as fuck. Not only that, but rumor has it, she gives the most toe-curling—”

You’re rolling your eyes again, gaze fluttering out the window momentarily only to find that, speak of the devil, Violet’s approaching the library with a skip in her step.

Maddie stops her spiel to trace your gaze and nearly falls out of her seat when she finds the object of your conversation is advancing, fast.

“No fucking way,” you whisper to yourself, pulling up your tutoring log on your tablet to find that, yup, Violet has most-definitely taken your advice and signed up for a tutoring slot.

If the time reads correctly, you’ve got three minutes before she’s due to be taking Maddie’s seat.

Your friend is grinning at you mischievously, stuffing her backpack quickly to vacate the space across from you.

“Un-fucking-believable,” you scoff, slumping back in your seat.

“Tell me how it goes,” she giggles, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stands.

“Maddie,” you warn.

“Love you, see you at home!”

Violet’s strolling into the library just as Maddie leaves through the other doors and try as you might make yourself small in the open air near the research center, her gaze falls on you as soon as she enters.

“Hey,” she breathes once breaches your vicinity.

“Hi.”

A moment lapses before you’re nodding towards the seat before you.

“We can get started whenever you’re ready.”

Right. Right! Vi’s mentally cringing, pulling the chair out with a squeak and dropping onto the worn cushion.

Her eyes are locked, watching as you pull the biometry textbook from your little messenger bag.

“Any particular areas you’re struggling in?” you ask, flipping to a clean sheet of paper in your notepad and clicking open your pen.

Vi combs her brain, tries to think of anything she’s not really grasping in Medarda’s class, but she’s been acing all the exams with flying colors, so she spits out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Logistic regression, probably,” she answers.

“In relation to...?” You tilt your head and Vi’s breath is hitching.

“The Confusion Matrix,” she answers, even though she knows all about it.

It’s only when you start breaking it down from the bare bones that she realizes that she could listen to you talk for-probably-ever.

You obviously have a great understanding of the subject if the way you deconstruct the relationship between sensitivity and specificity (or whatever the fuck) is anything to go by, and she doesn’t realize that she hasn’t even blinked until you’re glancing up at her.

“Am I making any sense?” you ask softly, taking in the almost confused look on Violet’s face.

“Huh?”

Vi snaps out of it, cheeks coloring pink when she notes the way you straighten in your seat.

“Am I going too fast?”

“No, no!’ Vi practically shouts before chancing an embarrassed gaze around the library to find a few wandering eyes. She clears her throat and tries to relax. “No, you’re doing great. I get it.”

You don’t seem convinced, but the faster you get through the material, the faster Violet can leave and you can finally catch your breath.

Because maybe Maddie’s a little right. That while you know, one hundred percent, without-a-doubt, that you and Violet are cut from two different cloths and that you ultimately won’t mesh, there’s still a sliver of want that settles somewhere confined in the pit of your gut.

You don’t know how long you continue before you notice that sun has begun to set in the horizon, but Vi’s effort is unwavering. She’s probably on her tenth practice problem by now and so far, she’s only flubbed once.

You decide to fold your cards first.

“O-kay,” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as you roll your shoulders and squeeze your hands shut so tight your knuckles crack. “This is a good stopping point, don’t you think?”

No, Vi could keep going forever if it meant hearing you talk all night, but the little G-shock wristwatch winks the time and she realizes that the two of you have been going at it for going on two hours and you’re probably exhausted.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long,” Vi says sheepishly. “Thanks a lot for your help, I...”

You look up from where you’re shuffling your papers together, pausing when she hesitates.

“I really appreciate you. I know you probably help dozens of people every week and—”

She stops talking when she sees you crack what seems to be the first genuine smile she could get out of you since Friday.

“It’s my job, Violet,” you tell her. “I’m happy to help.”

And she’d done well enough during the tutoring session, had a successful run with the practice problems. You were confident it was just a one and done. Perhaps served as a review for the upcoming exam Medarda had posted on the class page.

But then you see her name in the final time slot on Thursday, don’t really think much of it until you’re tabbing to next week’s schedule for shits and giggles. Tuesday and Thursday are booked through again, her name highlighted in yellow.

You minimize the calendar and pull up the aggregate schedule only to find that every 4 o’clock slot every Tuesday and Thursday’s been booked until the end of the semester.

You refresh for good measure.

“Oh, you’re so shitting me.”

You don’t know what kind of joke this is, if Violet thinks that this is funny, but you’re not amused.

Especially when you’re stalking all the way to the athletic hall, ignoring the wolfish stares from shameless student athletes to whip into the women’s hockey team’s reserved conditioning space.

You find her benching near the center of the room, Abigail Anderson spotting her while the rest of the team engages in various workouts and exercises.

A hush ripples over the weight room as you approach the hockey star, standing at the end of the bench where her knees are bent. One of Abigail Anderson’s eyebrows quirk up as you stand there with your hands on your hips and you hope the chill that runs down your spine as she checks you out doesn’t visibly vibrate your body.

When the barbell nearly crushes Vi’s chest on her last rep, Abby’s quick to help her re-rack and takes the biggest step back as Vi sits up.

Her expression falls and her face pales when she locks eyes with you, your features severe and gaze stony.

“Oh, hey,” she squeaks.

Truthfully, she hadn’t really pinned you as the type to be confrontational. Thought she’d have enough time to build a strong enough story as to why she booked out all of your tutoring sessions when in actuality she panicked when Ellie started grilling the fuck out of her about being a fucking pussy and begging her to just ask you out.

“You have some explaining to do, Violet.”

And she should definitely be embarrassed, not at all turned on, but she can’t help it as she gulps. Because when you stand before her like this, she can easily admit that she’d die for a private version of the view.

The silence in the weight room is palpable and you want to back down, but if this is some running joke and Vi’s going to make a show of humiliating you in front of her teammates, then you’d give her a show.

“Violet.”

Someone in the back snickers, another whistles, and Vi’s cheeks go red.

She’s standing, sweaty hands closing around your biceps as she spins you around and quickly guides you out of the conditioning room and out of her teammates’ line of ogling sight.

“V—”

“I’m sorry,” Violet splutters. “I’m just not really confident in Medarda’s class right now and I don’t trust myself to study alone, plus you’re a really good tutor and—”

“You do realize that those tutoring sessions are added to your tuition, right?” you ask incredulously. “It’s fifteen dollars an hour.”

Vi’s smile is crooked.

“That’s what my scholarship’s for,” she grins.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?” you try again. “I feel that before an exam for a little refresh is fair, but this would be like relearning the material after every class, all over again.”

“If it’s taught by you, I’ll take it,” Vi says quickly, and you pause because what does she mean by that?

You don’t really have much rebuttal left even though you’d marched up here with a fire under your ass. Vi’s looking down at you with a softened edge in her gaze and she’s wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants and sweat-soaked grey tank that reveals swathes of ink that curls up her arms and disappears under the fabric of her shirt.

She breathes out a small laugh when she notices the way your eyes dance.

“Anymore concerns, cupcake?”

Your gaze snaps to hers and her grin widens when she sees you fidget, little pet name obviously eliciting a semblance of a reaction from you.

“N-No,” you stammer.

“Great, see you tomorrow?“

You swallow.

“Okay,” you agree. “See you tomorrow.”

Violet pops into the library at four on the dot.

Her hair’s wet from an obvious shower and you smell her, warm like honey and cedar as she takes the seat across from you.

“Afternoon, cupcake,” she greets, slinging her backpack into the seat next to her.

You give her a warning look, but she just flashes you a toothy smile and nods towards the opened biometry textbook before you.

“What’s the lesson today, Teach?”

And this feels an awful lot like mocking, but you can’t be sure, not when Vi’s been somewhat respectful, sweet even.

“What do you know about the the sigmoid function?” you probe.

“Jack shit,” she laughs.

And maybe you’d find it endearing if the entirety of the situation wasn’t still absolutely mindfucking you at moment.

“Can I ask you something, Violet?” you ask, leaning back in your seat as you cross your arms to level her with as an intimidating look as you can.

“Sure, anything.”

“Are you messing with me?” you ask. “Is this some joke you and your friends are playing? Because I can’t really think of an outcome that would be funny.”

And you’d like to say that the look of horror on Violet’s face is consolation enough, but you know how being loved and being popular can make people act sometimes.

Vi contemplates telling you the truth, that she’s too chickenshit to ask you out, that getting close to you in any other way scares the fuck out of her. That maybe getting you to tutor her will segue into some form of friendship that’ll allow her to ease her way in. And maybe she’s going about it the hard way, but maybe Vi also likes a challenge.

“No jokes, just bad at statistics,” she says weakly.

You’re silent for way longer than comfort allows before you turn your attention to the textbook and Vi’s letting out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding.

“Fine,” you give in. “Let’s talk about sigmoid function and practice some applications...”

Vi’s happy to listen, goes through your preselected practice problems with ease (and maybe fucks up a value or two here and there to really sell her need for you). But the sun’s going down again, and it’s nearing six when Vi folds her hand this time around.

It comes in the form of her stomach grumbling in the emptying library and she looks up at you in embarrassment as you crack the first smile of the evening.

“Hungry?” you ask.

“Starving,” she replies dramatically, leaning so far back in her seat, her knees bump yours under the table.

Your toes curl at the contact, heart skipping when she doesn’t make a move to reposition herself.

“Have you eaten yet?” she asks, eyes looking everywhere but yours.

“Not since breakfast,” you admit.

“You like pizza?”

“Only the good kind,” you challenge.

“Beautiful,” Vi hums, shuffling her papers into her textbook and chucking it back into her bookbag. “I know the best place.”

Valentino’s is a hole-in-the-wall right outside of campus, a short walk from the library that Violet leverages as a way to get to know you outside of being lectured about statistical curves and correlation.

“Did you grow up around here?” Vi asks once the waiter sets two glasses of water down between the two of you.

You shake your head.

“No, grew up on the east coast and decided I needed a break from my life there,” you admit easily.

It’s almost as if the facade of professionalism fades away, melting to reveal you.

Vi’s desperate for more.

“As in?”

You look at her for a moment, wonder if you should divulge because you’re not really sure if Vi would get it, but she watches you like she’s hanging onto every single word you say, so you’re spilling.

“My dad died when I was little, left me and three other siblings with my Mom,” you offer. “And I love my siblings. Love my mom. She’s been a great parent, better than great actually, but most of our family disowned me when I came out and it was easier to run away than to deal with it.”

Violet’s expression falls, a furrow settling deep between her brows.

“Wow, I’m, uh, I’m really sorry to hear that,” she says, and she sounds sincere. A long moment lapses before she’s adding, “for what it’s worth, I think that’s very brave of you.”

And you seem a little surprised at the sentiment.

“Thanks.” You smile. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

Vi could turn to goo in this dimly lit booth, stained-glass wall sconce casting a warm glow over your pretty face.

“You—” She sniffs, changes the subject because she doesn’t know if she can do this on an empty stomach. “You like pineapple on your pizza?”

“Oh yeah,” you confirm proudly. “It’s a hill I’ll die on, I’m not sorry.”

“God, marry me now.”

She doesn’t realize she says it out loud until you’re bursting into a fit of laughter on your side of the booth.

“So this is something we can agree on?” you ask, head tilting in the way that makes Vi want to grab your face and taste you.

“Oh yeah,” she parrots instead. “One hundred percent.”

Valentino’s becomes routine just as much as Vi seeing you at four every Tuesday and Thursday becomes routine. It’s always after the Thursday session (because they have a three dollar slice from 6 to close) that you and Vi cram yourselves in the same booth near the kitchen and giggle over half a Hawaiian pizza.

“...And my little sister blew up her science project in the fourth grade—”

You choke on your bite, eyes wide as Violet recalls Powder’s little mishap that sent the entire gymnasium evacuating despite the tiniest fire.

“Now she’s about graduate and start school for chemical engineering,” she says, obviously proud.

“She seems like a smart girl,” you observe, if the countless stories Violet shares with you is anything to go by.

You figure being related to someone as great as the new friend you’ve made also speaks for itself.

“The smartest,” she agrees. “I’m proud of her.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you too,” you assure her. “You’re a good big sister.”

And it’s in these moments that Vi realizes that she’s in far, far deeper than she initially gave stock. Because these past few weeks, she realizes that there’s a lot more to your big brain and your pretty face. You��re an attentive listener, way funnier than she could have anticipated, and just a lot more laid back than you let on.

That much she finds out after the two of you graduate from emailing with silly sign-offs to exchanging phone numbers and texting. It starts off rather irregular, a coffee order here and there, maybe a TikTok that Vi swears is funny, you just have to watch it all the way through! But then she starts texting you when she’s bored, when she’s in class, before practice, after. Even pops the question that’s been niggling at her since she met you: on a scale from 1 - 10 how down are you to smoke?

Like cigarettes?

no, weed, dummy.

Oh. Hmm. 7. 10 if I’m drunk.

She could not wipe the smile from her face even if she tried.

And then she gets the invite.

Ellie swears it’s her in.

“Jesus Christ if you even consider me a friend, you’ll bang,” Ellie calls from the couch.

“It’s just tutoring,“ Vi argues.

“Yeah, at her place,” she scoffs. “At least test the waters, maybe cop a feel.”

“You’re a pig,” Vi snorts, making sure her laptop and all of the worksheets Medarda’s assigned over the course of the week is in her backpack.

“You’ve been wet dreaming over this girl for months.”

“Fuck all the way off.” Vi’s face warms because her best friend isn’t necessarily wrong.

You’re too hot for your own good, but you don’t even know it and Vi thinks she could die sometimes. Especially when you wear your favorite pair of jeans, the ones that hug the swell of your ass just right. Or swipe on that shimmery lipgloss she swears makes your mouth look edible.

If you were willing, Vi would be all over you, but thinking about taking advantage of the fact that you trust her enough to invite her into your space feels a little grimy.

“Whatever, bang, don’t bang,” Ellie says nonchalantly. “Blueball yourself for all I care.”

Vi rolls her eyes, slings her bag over her shoulder before sliding on her shoes and leaving her friend on the couch with a resounding click.

You live off-campus, maybe a ten minute drive, in a cozy little complex near the suburbs. Your roommate, Maddie, a chipper blonde with a bob, is all too eager to leave when Vi arrives.

“Hi, sorry we couldn’t meet anywhere else,” you apologize as you let her into your space. “Even if the library wasn’t closed, the vet said I have to monitor Pip for the next 48 hours.”

Vi raises a brow.

“My cat,” you clarify.

“Oh.” Vi doesn’t know why she suddenly feels like she’s intruding as she hesitantly toes off her shoes and follows you down the hall.

But she does take the opportunity to take you in in all your glory; all cozy and cuddly in an oversized sweatshirt, plaid pajama shorts and mismatched egg socks.

Cute. So fucking cute.

You spare her a glance over your shoulder and she’s clearing her throat.

“We don’t have to have a session tonight," she says, stopping at the threshold of the living room. “I would’ve understood if you had to cancel.”

You shake your head, give her a soft smile that has her knees feel like jelly.

“S’okay,” you assure her. “A promise is a promise.”

And you do start off studying, shoulder to shoulder in front of your coffee table, but then Pip crawls from his little hiding spot under the TV console to curiously nose along Vi’s feet and she’s a goner.

“He’s so sweet,” she practically wails as he paws at her thigh and nudges against her arm so that he can climb into her lap.

You warm at the sight, can’t help but snap a picture, much to Violet’s dismay.

“Stop,” she laughs. “That picture can’t see the light of day.”

“Why?” you whine, making a show of climbing onto your wooden coffee table to get a funny top down photo of the hockey star with your cat. “You and Pip look so cute together.”

She feigns a scowl even though her shoulders shake with laughter.

“I have a bad boy image to uphold, sweetheart.”

You snort, reach into her lap to scratch behind Pip’s ear, and her heart melts, body warm from her ears to her toes.

“Is he sick?” she asks cautiously, petting him softly.

“Just a little,” you say. “Something some rest and medicine won’t fix.”

It’s how the two of you end up on the couch, study materials long forgotten as Animal Planet plays in the background. Pip’s moved to lounge atop the covers draped over your lap and you’re blowing your nose into a tissue as an especially sad segment about baby animals being rejected by their mothers finishes.

Vi knows she shouldn’t laugh, but you’re too fucking cute and she can’t help but coo at you.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” you hiccup.

“What, that you’re a big soft baby?” she teases.

“Vi,” you whimper.

And something in her brain tickles because she can’t recall a time you’d ever called her by her nickname, only ever referred to her as Violet and nothing else.

She resists a smile.

“Okay, okay,” she gives in. “Lets change the subject.”

You make a noise of agreement as you cuddle your sleepy Pip.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she says, arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers a hairsbreadth from your figure.

Test the waters, cop a feel.

Vi’s not particularly into the idea, but the opportunity’s right there in the way wisps of your hair falls from its hold. Her fingers move of their own device, tucking the strands behind your ear.

She feels you still for the slightest, most imperceptible of moments, but then you’re relaxing, letting her fingers brush from your ear down to your shoulder, then back to where it rests on the back of the couch.

“You doing anything on Saturday?” she asks, really hopes you’ll say no.

“Not that I know of,” you say without second thought.

Not that you really need to. Your tight circle of friends are all alike, tethered to their hobbies and their homes.

“I have a game on Saturday,” Vi starts, fiddling with a little hole in the cushion. “If you wanted to come.”

You don’t agree or disagree immediately, and Vi’s scrambling to soothe over any potential discomfort.

“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna, of course,” she says quickly. “I just— I thought you might be interested in going and I’d really like to see you there and—”

A small little laugh puffs from your lips.

“Of course I’ll go,” you agree easily.

Vi deflates in relief.

“Great,” she sighs. “Awesome.”

Vi doesn’t know why she invites you. More so, she doesn’t know why she tells her teammates that she’s invited you because now they’re whooping and hollering in the locker room, towel-whipping her and sing-songing that their star player’s gonna get laid.

Doesn’t know why she invites you because as soon as she glides on the ice, she’s searching the stands high and low for your familiar figure. When she clocks you nestled in the middle with your roommate and another friend she vaguely recognizes, her heart’s soaring and her stomach’s twisting in knots.

Vi’s never nervous, but somehow you bring out the worst of it.

It only takes a few moments, though. The blare of the horn snaps her back into her zone and she leaves all the noise off-rink. In this moment, all she knows is cutting ice, dodging the other team’s most aggressive players and sinking shot after shot.

It’s nearing the end of the second period when she finally glances at the score.

5—4.

The opposing team’s giving them a run for their money and this is probably one of the tightest matches they’ve played all season. She takes a moment to find you in the stands again, and you’re right where she left you, eyes already glued to her as you hover over the edge of your seat.

She hadn’t realized it before, but you’ve got her number painted on her face and another surge of warmth layers over the exertion.

You give her a thumbs up and she feels like lightning.

They reset and she’s off, like a streak of light in the night sky, she’s shuffling the puck towards the goal.

Then you see the navy uniform barreling towards her, voice caught in your throat as Vi gives the puck one last shot before that damned Jersey Number Six shoves her so hard, she’s flinging into the rink’s wall.

The horn chugs, signaling the end of the second period and the stands erupt in a ceremonious cheer as the playback reveals that Vi had sunk the puck before time.

“Fuck yeah!” you cry out, shooting to your feet to clap your hands.

Vi ignores the instigating chants to fight, only really pays attention to your little dance of excitement as she shakes off the other player and rejoins her team for intermission.

“Fuck, Vi, you got it bad, huh?” Abigail Anderson’s spearheading the teasing once they all return to the locker room at the end of the game.

Vi’s body heats at the thought, isn’t really in the business of denying it anymore, because, you know what? Yeah. Vi’s got it so fucking bad for you, she doesn’t even know what to do with herself. You’re her first thought, her final prayer, and everything in between.

So all she does he shrug, can’t help the grin that splits her lips as she rubs her towel through her sweat-damp hair.

She’s the first one out of the locker room, dressed in some sweats and a pullover, towel slung around her neck as she steps into the tunnel. Your contact’s pulled up, and she’s ready to fire off a text asking where you want her to meet you, but she stops short to see you already leaned outside of the change room’s doors.

“Hey, cupcake,” she murmurs, smiling hard when she finds the smudged number 5 still chalked on your face.

“Hi, Violet,” you return shyly, hands clasped behind your back.

She hears the telltale whoosh of the locker room doors, the chattering of her teammates as they poke their heads out into the hall to be nosy, but she’s guiding you along, throwing a wink over her shoulder as the two of you fall into step.

“Thank you for coming,” Vi says after a moment. “You being here really meant a lot to me.”

You don’t know if Vi’s always been this sentimental, but just never given the opportunity to showcase it, or if she’s just buttering you up, but you can’t help but beam at her with pearly teeth and dimpled cheeks.

“God, Violet, you were so good!” you say excitedly, a little skip in your step. “You were in the rink, skating circles around them, like this, and like this.”

She bursts into laughter as you start speeding down the tunnel, dodging garbage bins and jumping up into the air to click your heels.

Something falls out of your little fannypack when you land, and Vi’s crouching down to pick up the tulle baggie to find a little beaded bracelet with a gold clasp that reads puck off.

“What’s this?” Vi asks, and you stop your shenanigans to turn your attention to her.

When your expression falters and you’re running back to her at full speed, she’s holding the baggie up just a little too out of reach for you, grin smug.

“Is this for me, sweetheart?” she asks presumptuously, even though her heart’s thrumming hard in her ribcage.

You’re on your tiptoes, chest pressed against hers, and god, please! is all Vi can think when your head tilts up, a little defeated knit between your eyebrows.

She milks the fuck out of whatever this is, arm banding around your waist as she returns the baggie to you.

“Maybe,” you whisper finally.

“Maybe what?” Vi teases.

“Maybe it’s for you,” you respond, free hand coming to rest on her chest.

“And what do I have to do to get it?” she asks, voice low.

It makes your body jolt hard as a shiver slinks down your spine because there she is, the insufferable flirt who knows exactly what to say to have your brain turn to mush.

You seem like you’re contemplating for a moment and Vi’s breath is hitching in her throat, wondering if you’re willing to play this cat and mouse game with her.

You smile, something glinting in your warm eyes.

“Puck off.”

Your giggle is maniacal as you slip away, leaving her temporarily stunned before she chases you down the tunnel. And she should expect your speed, especially because you’ve got legs, but it takes her a moment to catch up with you when her practice bag’s thumping on her back like that. Her calloused fingers are closing around the flesh of your hips in no time and she’s pulling you back into her arms.

“Cough it up, sweetheart,” she huffs.

You whine.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you counter.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

And you give in because Violet’s made you weak. She’s holding out her wrist as you free the multi-colored bracelet.

You barely clasp the closure in the ring before Violet’s stumbling into you, a big burly girl from the other team shoulder checking the fuck out of her.

“Nice job standing in the middle of the walk way,” she bites.

Violet only snorts a laugh.

“Whatever, good game,” she calls.

Whoever she is, stops, levels Vi with a deadly look before her gaze flits to the bracelet you’ve just fixed around her wrist to you who stands frozen into place as the tension crackles between them.

“Cute,” she observes and your skin prickles. “Let me take her for a spin?”

“Violet,” you warn when her shoulders square and she takes a step forward.

She looks torn between walking away and beating the shit out of whoever this instigator is, but one of her teammates is shoving her along.

“Leave it.”

Whatever that was shatters the moment between the two of you and Vi’s taking in a deep breath as Abby trails behind the two of you.

The girl whistles for good measure and you throw a dirty look over your shoulder.

She winks.

You’ve still yet to find out who hosts these parties, but this time around gives you a weird sense of deja vu as you climb the steps with Maddie in tow.

You and Vi had parted ways at the rink, not before extending you an invite to the celebration later in the evening.

You should come, I can pick you up.

But per usual, DD duties call, and you’d smiled up at her despite the lingering pressure from the prior confrontation and promised her that yes, you’d absolutely be there.

Maddie squeals from the step below as you climb the front porch, breaths coming out in puffs of steam.

“You look so hot,” she says excitedly.

You giggle nervously, sure hope you do because you’re freezing your ass off!

“Yeah?”

Maddie gives you an incredulous look, eyelids powdered with glitter and gaze lined charcoal. She’s looking extra cute tonight too and you know that the two of you could fall into an endless cycle of teasing because a certain someone’s probably inside tonight.

“If she doesn’t fuck you before the night ends, I will,” Maddie teases, and you’re warming unceremoniously at the thought.

Because maybe you’ve been thinking about it a lot more recently despite only going into this trying to get through these tutoring sessions and dipping. Especially as of late now that Vi’s made it a habit to FaceTime you after practice, on your walk to the library, dripping sweat and chest heaving.

You’d always seen the appeal, but now you feel it.

You smooth down your asymmetrical skirt and Maddie steps up to adjust your tits in your lowcut lace blouse just as the door swings open to reveal none other than Violet.

“Oh—” Her voice catches as she takes you in.

Maddie gives your ass a little swat and Vi’s gaze is following the movement as your roommate pushes past her to slip inside.

“I was— I was just about to step out. To, uh, to call you,” she stammers.

You breath out a little laugh.

“Here I am.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Here you are.”

Jesus, fuck Vi could burst into flames right now. Your boots hug your thighs and Violet’s not gonna lie, she really wishes it were her head squeezed between—

“You look...” Hot, so fucking edible, downright fuck— “...really nice.”

You smile, but you can’t help the way your teeth chatters.

“Fuck, shit, you’re probably cold,” she curses, warm hands closing around your shoulders to pull you inside. “Why didn’t you wear a jacket? You’re gonna get sick.”

I wanted you to want me.

“Guess I just forgot,” you say quietly.

She looks like she wants to scold you, but instead, she’s pulling down her coat, a big black work jacket, hanging from the banister of the stairs around your shoulders and you’re relishing the residual warmth that lingers there and her familiar scent.

“Can I get you a cider?” she asks. “It’s still warm.”

It hits you as her fingers curl through yours, that Vi’s truly nothing like what you initially thought. She’s sweet, and she’s respectful, and she’s everything you could ever hope for.

You freeze at the thought, and Vi’s glancing at you when she’s tugged to a stop.

“You okay?” she hums.

Your eyes search her face, gliding over the scar on her lip and the one slit through her eyebrow. The gold hoop pierced through her nose glints under the lowlight and her thick lashes flutter as she looks down at you.

You give her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes because wow, you’re in deep.

“I’m okay,” you assure her, give her fingers a squeeze for good measure.

When she finally secures you a mug of steaming cider, she’s guiding you to her group of friends that occupy the living room.

You only recognize Ellie, her best friend and her roommate, and Abby, the captain. Everyone else is a jumbled mix of names and faces and you stick close to Vi as she settles into the left corner of the couch.

You make a move to sit on the armrest, legs crossed and hands folded around your mug, but Vi’s spreading her legs and pulling you into her lap before you can effectively protest.

Her warmth immediately engulfs you and it takes every ounce of self control not to curl up into a ball in front of all her friends and classmates.

As they recap the game and catch up with each other, you remain hushed, eyes flitting from person to person as they speak. Toes curling whenever Violet’s voice vibrates in her chest as she talks big about sports and the hot teams this season.

You’re caught off caught when Ellie’s directing a question towards you and you barely register.

“What do you like to do?” she asks you.

All eyes audibly shift to where you’re cozied up in Vi’s lap, cider empty and abandoned on the side table.

“Uh.”

Your words are lodged in your throat because you’re so used to talking Vi’s ear off about your interests (namely, Animal Planet and your son Pip), showing her your little craft projects you like to do in front of the television on a weekend evening (you’d taken a break from the scarf / hat combo you were knitting to finish the bracelet you designed for Vi), and yapping about some obscure film you’d watched while finishing said projects.

But here, now, you don’t know what to say. Not when this isn’t your typical crowd and you don’t know what to expect from her friends.

Vi must feel your hesitation because her digits are slipping into her jacket, fingertips ghosting the small of your back as she presses a palm against your spine to smooth the tension there.

It’s okay, is a silent insinuation.

You give her a look from the corner of your eye before you turn your attention back to Ellie.

“I don’t do much,” you offer honestly. “Just starting my old cat lady duties early, I suppose.”

Ellie laughs benevolently.

“You have a cat?”

“Yes, his name’s Pip, and he’s basically my kid.”

“Cute,” Ellie coos. “You got any pictures?”

And you seem to light up, spare Vi one more glance as you dig in her coat pocket to produce your cellphone, charms jangling as you power it back on to show Ellie the lockscreen.

“I contemplated naming him Toothless from—”

“—How To Train Your Dragon!” Abby fills in from across the couch. “That’s such a good ass movie.”

It warms Vi to the bone, seeing you and her friends nerd out. Seeing them put in the effort because they know she likes you and seeing you reciprocate because, well, you’re you, and you just need a little warming up.

She doesn’t know how long you and her friends chat for until you’re shifting a little and turning your attention back to her.

“Can you show me the bathroom, please?”

Her gaze flits to her circle, and they’re smirking, obviously under the impression that this must be some sort of code the two of you concocted.

She ignores them, and most importantly she ignores the way her pulse jumps when you stand from your seat and perch between her legs, offering both of your neatly manicured hands to her.

This is getting fucking ridiculous.

The bathroom is tucked under the stairs near the front of the house and she stands post outside the door as you finish up.

It’s only when you’re poking your head outside the door sheepishly that she stands up straight.

“Can you help me with my zipper?” you ask timidly.

She puffs a laugh, slips in through the space you crack for her to find you holding the two sides of your skirt together.

And she knows she shouldn’t look, but the space allows her to see the pink lace of your panties. She’s shoving her tongue in her cheek, focusing on lining up the seams and pulling up your zipper as you hold the fabric taut.

“Thanks,” you whisper, looking up to see that Vi’s impossibly close to you in this cramped little powder room.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” she croaks, leaning against the counter as you wash your hands.

She thumbs the hem of your skirt absently.

“I like this,” she admits, gaze trailing up to meet yours. “You look pretty.”

Your ears burn, unable to meet the smolder of her steely eyes. You’d probably find that her pupils are blown wide if you did. Instead, you’re watching her mouth, lips stained cherry and tongue coming out to wet the dry patch.

You hold your breath as you reach across her for the hand towel, but her hands find your hips, teetering into dangerous territory as she moves almost close enough to slip her hands under your skirt.

“You’re not gonna say thank you?” she asks, watching you through hooded eyes.

A nervous giggle bubbles.

“Thanks, Violet,” you murmur.

“‘Course,” she agrees easily. “You gonna wear it again?”

You bite.

“If you ask nicely.”

She licks her lips again, body flexed as you allow her to press you closer. One of your hands splays on the counter behind her, the other brushing over the blooming bruise on her jaw.

“Can I?” she husks.

You don’t need to ask for clarification, not when her nose is nudging yours and your breaths are mingling.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Pl—”

The door rattles with the ferocity of whoever’s knocking on the other side.

“Hurry up in there, I gotta piss!”

To your dismay, the two of you don’t talk about Saturday night. And things’s aren’t particularly bad, but something’s definitely shifted and it’s driving you nuts.

Vi’s on the ice practicing the following morning and after classes on Monday, so you wait for your session with bated breath on Tuesday. You try extra hard despite every voice of reason telling you that you’re reading into it too much.

Vi smiles at you easily as she drops into the seat across from you, pulling out her biometry textbook without so much as a peep about the fact that the two of you almost kissed in whoever the fuck’s bathroom that was over the weekend.

You’re staring, hard.

Because that familiar feeling’s coming back. The seedling of doubt that had rooted in the beginning about Vi’s intentions with you. She’d done a good job of weeding it out over the weeks, of dismantling whatever image you’d built of her in your head, but it plants itself again.

She’s squeezing your hand across the table and your gaze flits down to her rough fingers. That’s when you notice it, the bracelet, still fastened where you clasped it on game night.

You relax a fraction.

“Everything okay?”

You smile, something small.

“Yeah, good,” you assure her.

The rest of your tutoring session is uneventful, goes off without a hitch. And you’re shameless in admitting that you hate to see her go as she walks you to your car in the student lot near the library.

You’re grasping at straws, clearing your throat before she closes your door for you.

“Uh,” you squeak. “Do you want to come over?”

Vi’s pausing, hand still on the edge of your door as her lips twitch.

“Like right now?”

You nod because you’ve already pulled the trigger.

“Like right now,” you confirm.

She checks her wristwatch, sighs heavily because fuck yes, she’d love to come over right now, but Anderson and Williams are expecting her for a strategy meeting with the coach and—

“Sorry,” you say quickly. “You don’t have to, I know we only really—”

She pinches your cheek before tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

“I can’t tonight, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” she says. “But tell you what, if you’re willing to free up your Friday night, I’d really like to plan something.”

Your heartbeat skips.

“All yours,” you say without missing a beat.

Vi’s grinning wide.

“Perfect, drive safe,” she bids. “See you tomorrow.”

And you don’t know why you’re so fucking high strung, not when Vi hasn’t done anything to make you doubt that this isn’t all in your head, but it only gets worse as the days go by.

It doesn’t come to a head until Thursday, when your tutoring slots are miraculously empty until Vi’s and you receive an email from Medarda to meet in her office after her string of lectures.

“Afternoon,” the older woman greets, smiling warmly at you as she lets you into her office. “Just wanted to check in with your audit and request any feedback you have.”

You think for a moment before shaking your head.

“Nothing in particular that I can think of,” you say easily, then add with a laugh, “feel like I’ll be a professional by the end of the semester.”

“Why do you say that?” Medarda chuckles as she logs into her computer.

“I have a student sitting every Tuesday and Thursday for tutoring in your class,” you reveal.

She gives you look crossed between surprise and amusement.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You giggle at the distant memory of Vi’s expression in the weight room. “She seems to be picking it up well enough, though.”

“Huh, every Tuesday and Thursday?” she asks, fingers flying over her keyboard. “I must be doing something wrong.”

“I’d hardly say that,” you say. “When Violet booked all my sessions, I thought it was a joke, but I think she’s just really dedicated to doing well.”

“Violet?” Medarda repeats, hands stilling over her mouse.

“Yeah, Violet, on the women’s hockey team?”

Your professor’s eyebrows twitch.

“Why would you— huh. Weird,” she comments.

“I admit it was a little strange, but—”

“Violet’s a consistent top scorer on the exams,” Medarda shares. “She’s been top of the class since the beginning of the semester.”

And it’s like the world stills as she reveals that information, fragile pieces shattering as the gears start turning in your brain and you try to put the puzzle together.

You glance at the clock, find that you’re due to meet Violet in half an hour.

“Uh, if you’ll excuse me,” you say politely, try to ignore the concerned expression etched on your professor’s face at your sudden departure. “It was nice chatting with you. If I think of anything feedback-wise, I’ll be sure to email you.”

And you’re running.

Vi’s in the locker room after practice, toweling off after an extra long shower because she’s been looking a little extra forward to seeing you today, but perhaps that’s everyday as of late.

She’s hooking the bracelet you gave her back on when her phone vibrates and she’s practically diving into her locker when your text tone bleats.

sweetheart: I have to cancel your session this afternoon. I’m sorry.

Her expression screws up.

everything ok? can i do anything for you?

sweetheart: Personal things to take care of. I’ll see you next week.

I’ll see you next week.

But what about tomorrow? She’d been working so fucking hard on tomorrow, on finally pulling her head far enough out of her ass to ask you to give the two of you a shot.

She sets her phone down, slumps down on the bench as she turns her wrist and takes in the smooth glass beads of the bracelet.

She sighs. Hard.

You hole up all weekend long, put your phone on do not disturb, and try your best to get whatever this is out of your system. But you’re a slave to your emotions and you can’t help but check your messages every time you know Vi’s free.

It’s a single text on a Saturday night, one that surprises you because you know she has practice now that the big game’s fast approaching.

violet <3: hey sweetheart, just checking in. i know you said you had a few personal things going on, but i’m here if you feel like you need someone <3

You’re texting back before your better judgement can stop you.

Just been a little stressed. You wanna come over?

.

.

.

Then you add, We can smoke.

Vi’s sending you three running emojis and you crack a smile at your screen before realizing that you need to shower.

You lay out some clothes beforehand, ultimately settling on last Saturday’s skirt.

Vi’s giggling as you fumble with the wrapper, rolling it with clumsy fingers because, truthfully, you don’t do this often, but she shuts right up when you don’t break eye contact as the tip of your tongue slides across the seam to seal the joint.

She’d picked you up with a Sprite and a slice to split from Valentino’s, throat drying as you bounded down the stairs in the same fucking skirt that had her touching herself after she’d gotten home from the party, guilty and wound tight. Now the two of you are tucked away behind some abandoned strip.

“Ready?” Her voice rasps as you pop the end between your lips and she brings the lighter to ignite the end for you.

It burns as you inhale and Vi’s thighs squeeze together involuntarily. She’d smoked with you twice before, both times on the roof of your apartment building and at a reasonable distance. But now, she knows what your body feels like, almost knows what your lips taste like.

You take a few more puffs before offering it to her and the smoke begins to plume to fill the space of her little coupe. It’s moments like these, tucked away from prying eyes, that it’s just you and Vi.

Not Vi, the supposed womanizing hockey star, or you, the nerdy homebody tutor. Just the two of you, two souls trying to get through university and carve your paths.

“I aced Medarda’s exam this week,” Vi says softly, jay pinched between her fingers as she watches you with lowering eyes.

“Oh, yeah? I wonder why,” you quip in return, face impossibly close to hers despite the console between you.

“I have a smartypants tutor that does an especially good job when she’s motivated,” she answers.

Your cheeks flame, but you don’t back down. Vi’s been extra good at pushing your buttons and flirting hard as of late, and maybe you’re a little more than willing to receive and reciprocate, but the two of you have been toeing the line, yet neither of you have taken the leap.

This moment, however, feels like it could be it. Like you’re going to find out what the fuck all of this even is.

“I have to meet this tutor of yours,” you play along. “She sounds like a miracle worker.”

“Among other things,” Vi teases, sucking in the smoke and blowing it through her nostrils.

“Like?”

“She’s also funny as fuck,” she hums. “A big baby when we watch Animal Planet.”

You narrow your eyes at her and Vi lets out a little laugh that makes your toes curl.

“Uh-huh?”

“She’s really fucking pretty too,” she says quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Kind of pretty that makes you wanna do bad, bad things.”

You smile falters as a shiver rips down your spine and before you know it, Vi’s putting out the joint before climbing in the cramped backseat of her car to spread her legs.

Doesn’t even give you a moment to process before she’s pulling you on top of her and allowing you to settle comfortably in her lap. Her hands run up your thighs and disappear under your skirt to grab the fat of your ass.

You breathe out a little giggle as your slender fingers come up to cup her jaw.

“Think my tutor’ll be mad at me?” Vi murmurs, nose brushing yours. “‘Cuz I really, really wanna kiss this pretty girl in my lap right now.”

You let out a broken little sigh when her hips buck.

“Maybe she’ll forgive you,” you whisper. “I know I would.”

And that’s all the affirmation Vi needs from you before she’s taking the plunge and slotting her lips with yours; kissing you with so much fervor, you’d think she needs you to breathe. She tastes like mint and weed and you can’t get enough.

Vi’s all-consuming, her kiss a delicious mix of teeth and tongue. And, god, her hands. Rough and calloused, but gentle in the way she explores your body. It isn’t until she’s snapping the band of your thong and her fingertips ghost the seam of your sticky heat that you’re hyper-focusing.

“Mmmph, Violet, Vi—” Your voice cracks as she breaks from your lips to map a series of kisses from your jaw, to the juncture behind your ear, down the column of your neck. “Wait.”

She stops, hands pulling from under your skirt like you’ve burned her. And perhaps you have, branded nearly every part of her because she can’t really think of a sound moment if you’re not there.

“Sorry, sorry,” she shudders as the arousal ebbs through her tightened body. “I—”

I’m caught up. I’m losing it, and it’s all your fault, and—

“Violet,” you swallow, fingers toying with the collar of her varsity sweatshirt. “I have something to say.”

Her throat bobs and her grey eyes gleam like ash in the lowlight of the backseat of her car. The windows are smoked out and it’s exceptionally warm, equal parts sexual tension and another thing Vi can’t quite pinpoint.

“Yeah, anything,” she assures you, hands resting on your waist instead. “You can tell me anything.”

One of your palms settles over her chest, right where her heart is and you suck in a sharp breath.

“I— uh, I really like you, Violet,” you admit quietly. “A lot more than I think I’ve ever liked someone in a long, long time.”

Oh.

Oh. Here it comes, the big fat rejection. The coming to your senses.

“But?”

The look on your face is devastating and Vi’s scared.

“I have to know that if I give you a chance, you won’t abuse it,” you hiccup, and wow, that’s definitely not what she expects you to say, but fuck does it leave a sour taste in her mouth.

“Abuse it?” she repeats, face crumpling.

“Violet,” you sigh.

“Abuse what?” she husks.

“I know you—”

“Do you?” she scoffs, a wave of irritation washing over her as she looks you with disappointment. “What gave you the idea that I would ever even dream of taking advantage of you giving me a chance?”

“You don’t necessarily have a spotless record, Violet,” you say, voice edged. “And I know that I’m not your usual—”

“Not my usual what?” The venom in Vi’s tone is uncharacteristic, but this is not at all how she expected tonight to go and she’s frustrated. “Not my usual type? You internalized all this shit that people say about me even though I’ve been trying to get you to see me for months.”

Emotion clogs your throat because a small part of you knows that Vi’s right. She’s never given you an outright reason to doubt her interest in you, but it all just seems too good to be true.

“Sue me for wanting to protect myself,” you choke, climbing out of her lap and back into the front seat. “Especially because I know that you don’t actually need help in Medarda’s class.”

And that catches Vi off guard. You see as much in the rearview mirror when she pales.

She clambers back into the driver’s seat.

“Who told you that?” she asks, not even bothering to deny the fact.

“I mentioned that I was tutoring you in passing when Medarda asked for feedback on her class,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “She asked why I’d be doing that when you’re top of all her sections.”

Violet’s voice is stuck in her chest.

“And then your past hook ups parade around campus like a reminder that—,” you cut yourself off, obviously hurt after bottling this all up. “And it isn’t any of my business, nor are we anything enough for me to plausibly upset—”

“Yes, I lied,” Vi admits quietly. “But only about one thing.”

Your breath catches.

“You’re right, I don’t need help in Medarda’s class. I lied about being clueless and I signed up for tutoring even though I didn’t need it,” she says.

“Why?”

“You know why,” Vi huffs. “From the moment I met you, I knew.”

It’s a glaring insinuation that makes you crack.

“No one ever says it out loud, but I know what everyone thinks,” you choke. “Violet’s fucking that loser?”

“You really believe that?”

“God, Violet, I don’t know what to fucking believe,” you cry out. “My life’s fucking fine and dandy and then you show up and make me fucking question everything I—”

Vi lets out a humorless laugh, can’t even look at you and it could make you sick.

“You’re so fucking loved by everyone, even those who won’t admit it,” you croak. “And you’re incredible at everything you do, turn everything you touch to gold, and I’m just...”

Vi’s brows furrow.

“You’re what?”

“I’m me,” you whisper meekly. “I’m just me and you’re you, and I just don’t see what makes me so different.”

And Vi realizes that she’d read it all wrong.

“Look at me,” she says softly, fingers tracing your jaw.

You knuckle your tears away, make a petulant noise in your throat.

“You wanna know why I booked all your stupid tutoring sessions?” she huffs. “Because I really fucking like you, ________. And it’s beyond wanting to fuck you even though god knows I’d fucking die if you let me. It’s so much more than having you physically. Because I’ll take being just friends with you if it means having you around. I don’t give a shit about anything else but you.”

It’s the most sound declaration you hear from the girl in the semester you’ve known her and it makes you cry.

“You make me feel so fucking normal and you remind me that I don’t need to be anything else but me,” she breathes. “And I get where you’re coming from, I hear you. I just really hope you hear me too.”

“I do,” you whisper. “I’m just—”

Vi squeezes your thigh, takes your hand in hers and brings your knuckles to her lips.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” she offers gently.

Vi only has one more game before the championships and she won’t lie and say that this limbo with you has her feeling like she’s going to be ill.

You’d cancelled her tutoring sessions this week, told her that maybe the two of you needed to spend some time apart and that she was clearly doing a number on you. So she agrees, tries to give you space to work through what’s weighing on you.

sweetheart: Good luck at your game tonight, Violet. I’m rooting for you.

She really wishes you’d be there, but she knows you need the time alone.

thanks, sweetheart. i appreciate you.

“Alright Vi, we have fifteen til puck drop,” Ellie says carefully, has been front row to everything transpiring between you and her best friend.

Vi tucks her phone away in her backpack, unhooks your bracelet from around her wrist and fastens it to the handle of her bag, and grabs her stick from the rack before she lets her teammates jostle her into the tunnel.

And she wishes she could lock in, clear her head and get into the game, but all she can think about is you.

It’s a narrow victory once the game ends, but she can’t find it in herself to celebrate, especially not at the kickback afterwards because fucking Sev and her assholes are there.

“Where’s your little dime piece?” she taunts.

“Fuck off,” Vi warns, obviously not in the mood.

“Shame,” she whistles. “She looks like a fucking weirdo, but she sure does have a fat ass—”

Ellie’s fist cracks so hard across her jaw.

“She told you to fuck off,” she hisses.

Sev spits the blood in her mouth on the toe of Ellie’s shoe, fists bunching the collar of her sweater.

“Keep that fucking energy on the ice because I’m gonna wipe the floor with your fucking pissbaby team.”

You wake up on Monday morning to a text from Vi and a handful of notifications from Instagram.

violet <3: can i see you this week?

You open Instagram.

sev.94 has requested to follow you! sev.94 has sent you a message request!

Your brows furrow, opening the message request hesitantly. There’s a few DMs and a video from this Sev person.

sev.94 hey pretty, sorry to text you like this. sev.94 just thought you should know the kind of person your little girlfriend is sev.94 sent a video. sev.94 i don’t really do relationships, but i’d take your mind off of it if you let me.

You’re playing the video, quality grainy and audio blasted. You don’t know what you’re looking at at first, it’s dark, and there’s so many voices. But you see skin, see the outline of a girl’s naked back, delicate and arched in pleasure.

You think this Sev person’s just fucking with you, playing some stupid joke with a shitty punchline as someone’s hands snake around to palm the flesh of the unnamed girl’s ass, but then you see it.

The bracelet.

Vi going to lose her shit for two reasons.

(1) Because you haven’t responded to her message despite your read receipts being on, and (2) she can’t fucking find the bracelet you’d gifted to her.

She’s barging into Ellie’s room, shirtless and hair dripping.

“Jesus, fuck, do you knock?” Ellie hisses, buds she was in the midst of grinding scattering across the floor.

“I can’t find the bracelet she gave me,” Vi says quickly.

Ellie’s face scrunches.

“Huh?”

“The bracelet ________ gave to me,” Vi says. “I hooked it on my backpack before practice on Saturday but it’s not there anymore.”

Ellie’s expression morphs, eyes narrowing in thought.

“Maybe you misplaced it,” Ellie offers. “Regardless, we practice tonight, I’ll help you look for it.”

Vi’s chest is tight, doesn’t want to admit that the stupid little bracelet means way more to her than she lets on. She only ever takes it off when she’s on the ice, won’t risk losing it when she’s got a target on her back and everyone plays rough.

It turns out to be futile when they enter the rink and she retraces her steps only to come up empty-handed.

This, she realizes, is the start of a very long week.

You should’ve seen it coming, really. Don’t know why you tried to psyche yourself into thinking that Vi could ever really want something with you when the world’s her fucking oyster and she can have anything she wants.

And you want to feel bad when she texts you intermittently through the days, checking in, offering to meet you, anything. But part of you is angry, unforgiving, tired.

You could’ve gone the rest of the school year unscathed if she’d just left you the fuck alone, but she pried and she tugged and she settled, and she made a home inside of you and you hate that you let her.

xxxx: i really miss you.

You block her number, block her social media, and even though finals are imminent, you now know that Vi’s been playing you for a fool this whole time and you cancel every last one of the sessions she’s booked.

You hope she’d get the message, figure that you’d caught onto her little game and aren’t willing to play anymore, but she doesn’t, that much is clear when you’re finishing up your two thirty session and find her stalking into the library just as the student leaves your table.

“Are we going to talk like adults or are you going to keep acting like—”

You don’t entertain a response, just pack your bag and sling the strap over your shoulder because the tears are bubbling and you don’t trust yourself not to break.

“Seriously?” Vi bites, hot on your heels as you throw all of your weight against the library doors and suck in the icy air.

“Leave me alone, Violet,” you warn.

“No, fuck that,” Vi spits, hand closing around your bicep. “You don’t— You don’t get to make me fall for you and then try to leave with no explanation.”

“Fuck you,” you whisper.

“What?”

“Fuck you, Violet,” you hiccup, yanking your arm from her grasp and putting as much distance as you can between the two of you. “I hope you and your friends got a good laugh out of it.”

Her face is screwing up and if she wasn’t confused before, she’s definitely confused now.

“Listen, I can’t fix something if I don’t know what’s wrong,” Vi argues. “I’m so fucking lost right now.”

You hate how believable she is. How the thought of hurting you seems so inconceivable to her. But that grainy video was clear enough.

“I hate you,” you murmur. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

Your name comes out broken, like you’ve wounded her. But you’ve officially folded your hand, won’t dare look her in her eyes because the both of you know it’s not true.

The championships roll in fast like a tide and neither your or Violet are ready for it.

You hear they’re live streaming the game, it’s the most anticipated one in the season. Piltover Stallions against the Zaun City Tigers. A part of you wishes you could support them, but then you’re starkly reminded that you’re a laughingstock amongst them.

The library on a Friday night is as quiet as can be, the hum of the fluorescents background to the voices in your head that are loud. You’re so engrossed in the study material that you don’t realize someone’s making a beeline for you until they’re knocking on the tabletop.

Ellie Williams stands before you in all her lean glory, hands sunk in her pockets as she stares down at you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing?” Your tone is clipped, disinterested because you believed that you and Ellie could be friends once upon a time.

“Coach sat me out because I socked one of those dickhead Zaun City Tigers in the mouth last weekend.”

You humph.

“Listen, we don’t have much time left, so I’m going to make this short and sweet,” she says. “Whatever happened between you and Vi is obviously personal and that typically would have nothing to do with me, but she can’t get her shit together because all she can think of is you.”

“And that’s my problem because...?”

“I know that Vi comes off a certain way, but she’s my best friend, like my best friend in this entire shithole of a world, and she’s—”

“No offense, Ellie,” you cut her off. “But if Vi sent you here to plead her case, I think that’s pathetic and—”

“Okay, well maybe if you shut up for three seconds and let me get to my point—”

You close your textbook and shove it in your backpack before standing to signal the end of the conversation.

“Whatever, I don’t have time for this.”

Ellie watches you walk away, takes in a deep breath because wow, you’re a bitch when you’re mad, but she absolutely gets why Vi is whipped.

“Violet’s in love with you.”

And that statement makes you freeze. Tears cloud your vision as your fists tighten around the strap of your bag.

“If you fuck someone else while you’re in love, I want nothing to do with it,” you bite.

Ellie’s brows shoot up.

“Whoa, what?”

“Violet fucked someone else as soon as things got tough, and if that’s the kind of person she is in love, I’d rather be alone,” you say stiffly.

“Respectfully, there’s no way Vi’s interested in getting pussy from anywhere else with how down bad that bitch is for you, but even if she was, I spend over seventy percent of my day with her and know that all she’s been doing the past two weeks is moping over the fact that you handed her ass to her on a silver platter.”

“There’s a video.”

Ellie’s brows must be mingling with her hairline right about now.

Her reaches a palm out.

Show me.

You open the DM from sev.94, watching as Ellie’s expression morphs from morbid curiosity to disbelief, to a quiet rage.

She’s handing your phone back to you and grabbing you by your forearm.

“She’s fucking dead.”

When you enter the rink, the ice is tense.

It’s the middle of the second period and the game is tied 3—3.

Your eyes comb the playing area, can’t find Vi’s jersey number in the mix, but finally settle on her on the bench, shoulders terse and obviously on edge.

She doesn’t clock you yet, had given up on the idea of patching things up with you after your last conversation.

“Vi’s been missing her bracelet since practice on Saturday,” Ellie’d told you on the way there, then pulled out her phone to show you the photo she’d taken of Vi passed out in nothing but her boxers on the couch the night of the last game, fucked up and sad. “We went out for like an hour after the game, but that was it. Vi was too fucking in her head.”

The girl from the tunnel, the one who’d been taunting the two of you, you piece together, has been the one behind it all, stirring the pot.

Throughout the end of the second period and all through intermission, Vi doesn’t notice you, too busy trying to get off the fucking bench to survey the crowd.

It’s only during final puck drop in the third period that their coach finally gives in, smacks the back of her helmet and tells her to make him proud that she lifts her head up.

And there, front and center of the student section is you.

Her eyes are wide, body frozen in place as she tries to figure if you’re just a figment of her imagination, but then the horn’s blaring and she’s having to zone back in.

At this point in time, she doesn’t give a fuck if they win or lose, she just needs to get to you.

“Your little bitch looks cute tonight,” Sevika comments wolfishly. “Bet she tastes as good as she looks.”

Vi easily intercepts her pass, cuts between two players as she shuffles it along with practiced precision. She sends the rubber flying and the goalie narrowly misses block.

“Maybe if you played as good as you ran your mouth, you’d wipe the floor with my pissbaby team you big bitch,” Vi calls, resetting in their corner.

And perhaps you’re her good luck charm, the only thing she needed to see to get back into it, because Vi reignites. The adrenaline pumping through her veins fuels every shot, and soon the timer’s buzzing.

7—5.

The roar is deafening, but you’re all she sees in the ocean of cowbells and pompoms.

She barely inches forward before something arcs through the sky and lands before her feet.

Her bracelet.

You watch from the sidelines, the final confirmation as Vi picks up the loop and launches herself at Sevika.

The crowd cheers.

Fight, fight fight!

You don’t know how many swings Vi gets in, just know that she’s flashing you a bloody smile before she skates off the ice.

Ellie emerges from the locker room and you’re perking up.

Most, if not all, of Vi’s teammates had come and gone and you’d been waiting patiently, anxiously, for her to emerge since the end of the game nearly an hour ago.

“She’s the last one in there,” is all Ellie says before strolling off.

“What if...what if she doesn’t want to see me?” you ask hesitantly.

Ellie chuffs a little laugh, doesn’t bother turning as she calls from halfway down the hall, “Find out for yourself, sweetheart.”

Vi’s pulling a tank top over her head as soon as you enter and your cheeks bloom when you catch a split-second of her tits.

She glances up at you, nose bruising and lip busted.

“Hey,” she spares you, stuffing her uniform and skates into her gym bag.

“Hi,” you squeak.

A pregnant pause as you take her in, hesitant to close the distance between the two of you.

“Didn’t think you’d make it,” she observes.

And you don’t really have a bullshit response, know that you had every intention of staying as far away as humanly possible, so you settle on humming your agreement.

“Ellie told me,” she starts. “Why you lashed out on me.”

You swallow.

“And part of me gets it, I really do,” she continues, “but I also thought you had more faith in me than that.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Fuck, Violet, I’m so sorry.”

“I told you to free up Friday night a few weeks ago,” she says, shuts her locker door and slumps down on the bench behind her. “I was going to tell you everything, officially ask you out, but then all that shit happened and it caught up to me.”

You take a step forward, and then another, and another until you’re standing in front of her.

“You have to know that I would never do something like to anyone, but especially not to you,” she says softly, taking your hands in hers.

“I know.”

She brushes her lips against your knuckles, pulls you in closer so that you’re standing between her legs.

“You’re right,” she continues, voice hoarse. “I don’t have a spotless track record, but I meant it when I said that I don’t give a shit about anyone else but you. I would give you anything I can if you let me.”

Your hands rest on her shoulders, her chin resting against the plush of your belly as you look down at her, speechless.

“That night, in the car, you said that you didn’t see what made you so different.”

“I don’t,” you admit.

Vi stands, caging you between strong arms as she drops her face into the hollow of your neck. You shiver when you feel her lips press to the skin there.

“We could start off with the obvious.”

One of her hands rests on the small of your back, pulls you flush so that the only things that separate you are the flimsy fabrics of your clothes. The other grabs a handful of your ass.

“I meant it when I said that you’re the kind of pretty that makes me wanna do bad things.”

You gulp, thighs squeezing as her lips part and she bites.

“Vi.”

“You got a giant brain,” she laughs breathily, fingers coming around the fiddle with your belt.

She kisses you, mouth hot and breath warm. It’s better the second time around, no doubt obscuring you from truly indulging.

“Pl—ease.”

“You’re kind and you’re selfless, and you’re my sweet, sweet little crybaby.”

“Violet,” you sigh breathlessly. “Listen to me.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Fuck me,” you pant. “Please.”

Violet nearly runs two red lights and whips into your neighborhood on two wheels.

The two of you are stumbling up the stairs and she’s spanking your ass on the last step as you fiddle with your keys and try to find the right one under the dim light of the complex hall.

Violet’s already unbuckling her belt as you turn the key, nearly taking you down as she shoves you inside and up against the front door.

“Maddie home?” she breathes.

“Out of town,” you answer quickly, kicking off your sneakers and pulling your sweater over your head. “Visiting her family upstate.”

“Perfect,” Vi hums. “I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on your couch.”

“Oh–”

One of her rough hands comes to cup your tit over your bra, her tongue laving over the other while her free hand makes work of the clasp.

You walk her back to the couch, stand between her knees as she flops back into the seat. Her arms spread over the back as she settles in, legs widening to give you ample room to strip.

Her eyes never leave yours as you easily unclasp your bra and shimmy out of your jeans, leaving you in nothing but a tight pair of little lace panties and pink socks that has Vi wet.

“C’mere,” she rasps, pulling you to straddle her lap.

Her lips immediately latch onto one of your pebbled nipples, tongue hot as her hands wander.

“Fuck.”

“Tell me what you want,” she husks, biting down on the swell of your breast.

And having Violet this close, her touch excruciatingly featherlight and tempting, you wind tight.

“Want you inside of me,” you whimper, fingers fixing around her throat. “Please.”

“Yeah?” she eggs you on, lips brushing yours as her palms settle on your ass. “You want me to fuck you?”

You nod eagerly, hips rolling in her lap as her breath pitches.

“Vi.”

Her nickname puffing from your lips makes her crack. You’re wound in her arms, face in her neck as she peels your thong taut, away from your waiting cunt, and runs her fingertips from your slit down to your clit.

“F...F—uck,” you sigh.

“Holy shit,” she marvels, licking her lips when she easily glides through your folds. “You’re really fucking wet.”

You grind down against her, clothed clit catching against her belt buckle. The cool metal sends a jolt through your pussy and you’re moaning loud in her ear.

And Violet really wants to take her time with you, wants to milk the first time she ever gets to fuck you for as long as she humanly can, but she’s still fully dressed and you’re practically naked, perfect tits pressed to her chest and fat ass in the palm of her hand.

She shifts you further into her, so that she can peek over the arch of your back as she sinks her middle and ring finger three knuckles deep into your needy heat.

“Ah, fuck, Violet.” Your voice breaks as she starts pumping into you, your arousal coating her fingers and the sound of her easily slipping through your pussy reverberating through the living room. “Fuckfuckfuck.”

She kisses your jaw, litters them until she’s catching your lips and licking crudely into your mouth.

You cry out when her fingers slip out.

She’s leaning the both of you forward, easing you from her lap and onto the couch as she takes a moment to shuck her shirt off and pull her belt through the loops in one tug.

You watch her through it all, the way the trim muscles of her biceps and shoulders flex as she leans over you, takes you by the ankles and yanks you until your ass is half-hanging from the edge of the couch.

She kneels before you, strips you out of your thong.

You don’t miss the way she shoves the soiled fabric in her jeans pocket.

“Jesus,” she breathes, gaze fluttering between your eyes and your pussy. “You’re so fucking pretty, sweetheart.”

Your toes curl at the praise, fingers closing around where Vi’s holding your legs apart.

“You know how bad I’ve been wanting to taste your pussy?” she rasps, gathering the lewdest amount of spit to dribble onto your clit. When you don’t answer, she’s freeing a hand to slap your slit.

“Nnngh, fuck!”

“Think I’ve always wanted to have you,” she admits. “But it was that stupid party fucking party and that stupid fucking skirt. God, I would’ve fucked you in that skirt if you let me.”

“Yeah?” you whine breathlessly. “Tell me.”

She’s stuffing you again without warning, curling her fingers in a way that has your back arching off the couch.

“Would’ve bent you over that sink and made you watch yourself while I ate you out,” she says easily.

And it’s so fucking delicious, the nasty shit Vi’s saying to you while she pounds your aching heat; the way she finally gives in and tastes you, sucking on your clit like she’s starved and you’re the only thing that can sate her hunger.

Your fingers curl through her hair as you teeter dangerously over the edge, nails grazing her scalp and tugging when she hits the spot deep inside of you that has you keening for more.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum,” you choke. “Holy fuck.”

You feel Vi grin against your pussy, watch her with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes because the sight of her between your legs in your moonlit living room has your insides twisting hard.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” she encourages you. “Cum all over my fingers. Wanna see you gush.”

“Hah, h—” Your thighs tighten around her head, fingers curled so hard in her hair, she moans in a mix of pleasure and pain. “Don’t stop, Vi, please.”

She moans into your cunt, savoring the heady taste of you as you practically ride her face.

The sound that fills the room is downright filthy, the sight that Vi beholds when she peeks from where she’s devouring you equally so. It’s picturesque, the way she has you writhing. A sheen of perspiration glistens over your flesh as she eats you out and it’s a perfect mix of her tongue and her fingers that send you soaring over the edge.

It’s a pitched whine that echos, the staccato of your shaky breathing that sings like music in her ears as you cum. And hard.

Her lashes flutter against the skin of your inner thighs as she peppers kisses there, her lips slick with spit and arousal.

“Fuck, babe,” she whispers. “That was...”

She can’t really choose a specific word, is just mind blown at the fact that she’d just made you cum so hard and so fast. It makes her tense and tingle, a smug wave of pride washing over her as she starts mouthing a trail from your belly, between the valley of your tits, up your throat, to finally press a chaste one on your lips.

You taste yourself first and foremost, but then you taste everything she’s ever wanted to say to you, all the unspoken words and the things she’d been too scared to share. Feel it in the way her hands are roaming, squeezing, caressing.

You breathe a disbelieving laugh, peck her lips again when she pulls away to brush your hair from your face.

“Vi—” Your breath hitches and your eyes glaze.

“I know, I know.”

You wrap your arms around her shoulders, legs hooking around the narrow of her waist as she bears your weight and picks up your boneless figure.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

The sun is warm against your skin when you wake up the following morning, your bedroom bathed in an orange glow.

You feel bone tired, body sore and muscles tight as your arm sweeps the other side of the bed in search of balmy skin, but instead you’re met with cool sheets and swelling dread.

You sit up quickly, find that you’re still naked, and take a moment to asses your bedroom. The bathroom door’s cracked, light off, and everything else is exactly where you left it.

Everything except Vi.

Oh, you think to yourself.

Almost don’t want to leave your room because your empty apartment will be confirmation enough that Vi really did get the last laugh in the end.

But you force yourself out of bed, shrug on an oversized t-shirt before finding the living room just as still as it had been before the two of you had barreled in the night before and she’d left her mark on you.

The only sign that the entire thing wasn’t just a figment of your imagination was Vi’s belt strewn haphazardly on the coffee table.

You feel hollow, almost numb, and even if a persistent part of your brain was consistently telling you that you should’ve known better, the tears well in your eyes because you’d really hoped Violet was different.

You knuckle the tears away angrily, mind racing far too fast to register the door quietly unlocking and the soft footfalls coming down the hall.

“Babe?”

Your gaze snaps up.

Like a vision, Vi’s standing in the doorway, a handful of plastic bags in tow. She’s wearing her clothes from last night and the puffs under her eyes make her a little worse for wear.

She sets the bags down on the eat-in, rounds the couch to take you by the shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” she worries. “What’s going on?”

You hiccup, crumpling in her arms because you were so fucking scared.

“Thought you left,” you croak.

Vi breathes a sigh of relief, blowing out a hollow laugh because her girl’s such a baby.

“You have jack shit in your fridge,” she teases lightly. “How am I supposed to make you a five star breakfast with greek yogurt and carrot sticks?”

You whine.

“Don’t care about breakfast,” your muffled voice sounds from where your face is pressed in her chest. “Just wanted to wake up to you.”

Violet groans.

“You’re so cute,” she laughs, kissing the top of your head.

“I wanna go back to bed,” you mutter petulantly, emotional whiplash making your eyes droop.

“You’re not gonna let me make you breakfast?” Vi picks, smoothing the hair from your face.

Your eyes catch the bracelet refastened around her wrist and you grin softly, taking her fingers to press a kiss to her palm.

She could combust, gaze gooey as she watches you watch her.

Yeah, Vi has a huge problem.

One that’s particular, and overarching; one she doesn’t think she can go without.

And frankly, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

neng © 2024

[goldsainz]

# DREW STARKEY — ACTORS ON ACTORS !

MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ drew and you participate in variety’s “actors on actors” series.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ cursing, talking about nude scenes, probably inaccurate acting experiences.

003. NOTE !

✯ sorry to all the actors i stole roles from😭 also zendaya is used as a face claim for the social media but the writing is inclusive and has no descriptors of physical appearance… or at least i hope so.

word count : 5,4k (chat i got carried away)

The cozy studio was bathed in warm light, designed almost as if to feel like a welcoming living room. Two plush chairs faced each other, separated by a low coffee table adorned with a few carefully placed books and a small vase of fresh flowers. Everything about the space was crafted to exude intimacy and warmth, inviting open conversation.

Drew Starkey entered the room first, his usual calm confidence mingled with a tinge of nervous energy. He smoothed his shirt absentmindedly and scanned the setup, trying to ground himself in the moment. He was used to being in front of cameras, but this felt different. This wasn’t just about promoting a project or answering rapid-fire questions on a press junket. This was you.

“Hello,” Drew started, a smile gracing his features as he took in the fact that he was sitting right in front of his number one celebrity crush. His hand hovered awkwardly in a small wave, as if he couldn’t believe this was real.

“Hi,” you said back, a giggle falling past your lips when you noticed his sheepish look. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he said, his voice just a little higher than usual. Drew cleared his throat, laughing at himself, which made you laugh too. “Sorry, I’m… a little nervous.”

“Oh, don’t be,” you reassured him with a warm smile. “I promise, I don’t bite.”

“Good to know.” He chuckled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “How are you doing?”

“I’m great, thank you. What about you?”

“Pretty good, can’t complain.” A laugh bubbled out of him, and subsequently, you. The way he rubbed the back of his neck made you think he was still pinching himself that this was happening.

The cameras rolled, capturing the easy charm and immediate chemistry between the two of you. 

Drew’s grin widened as he began. “First of all, let me just say—I’m completely starstruck right now. I mean, the way you completely own every role you take on... it’s incredible.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, a bashful laugh escaping as you waved off the compliment. “Oh, stop it. You’re making me blush!”

“I’m serious,” he pressed, leaning forward slightly. “You’re like… the blueprint. If I ever get even halfway to where you are, I’ll consider myself lucky.”

“Well, now you’re just flattering me,” you said, your voice teasing but your cheeks undeniably warm. “But thank you, that’s so sweet. And honestly, you’re being way too hard on yourself. You’re incredible in Queer. You’ve got this natural charm that just lights up the screen.”

“Natural charm, huh?” He smirked, pretending to preen, which made you laugh again. “I’ll take that.”

“Good,” you replied, smiling. “You should, because it’s true.”

Drew’s gaze softened, the teasing giving way to something more earnest. “That means a lot, really. Especially coming from you. You’re like… Hollywood royalty to many.”

You tilted your head, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “To many, huh? And are you part of this many?”

Drew’s eyes widened, and he laughed, a little caught off guard. “Oh, absolutely. I’ve got a lifetime membership to the fan club.”

“Good to know,” you teased, crossing your legs and leaning back in your chair with an air of mock superiority. “I’ll have to start charging you membership fees.”

“Totally worth it,” he shot back, his grin widening.

“Well, thank you,” you said with a soft laugh, “So, we’ve both got some things in common, which I think is pretty cool.”

“Like working with Daniel Craig?” he asked.

“Yes! Honestly, I still reminisce about our time on set… he’s genuinely incredible, isn’t he?”

“He is, yeah. I found myself just admiring him and sort of forgetting I had to act too. He’s just… he’s on another level, for sure.”

“Daniel’s a master of his craft… Most of my scenes as Paloma in No Time To Die were with him, and at first I was so nervous because, like, what if I messed up in front of the Daniel Craig?” Drew let out a laugh at your words, and you couldn’t help but laugh too. “But when he noticed I was nervous he reassured me that it was all good. He’s just the best.”

“You’ve worked with so many high-profile actors.” You nod slightly at his words, as if it were the most common thing in the world. “Are you always nervous when meeting them, or was it just a Daniel thing?”

“It wasn’t just Daniel, no, but I think it depends. For example, when I did Oppenheimer with Cillian Murphy, for some reason I felt more relaxed… even though I had some nude scenes with him.”

“Nude scenes just make you connect, don’t they?” he joked, leaning back with a sly grin.

“They do, actually,” you replied, leaning into the banter. “You’d think they’d be worse, but honestly, with the amount of seriousness and concentration they take, it’s like you don’t have time to be nervous.”

“You clearly pulled it off flawlessly,” Drew said with mock solemnity. 

“You did too in Queer.” You compliment him, “I watched it a few days ago, and the chemistry you had with Daniel was just off the charts.”

Drew’s face lit up, a mix of pride and bashfulness crossing his features. “Daniel’s an amazing scene partner. He really made it easy for me to tap into everything.”

“Well, it shows,” you said. “It was such a raw and beautiful performance. I might’ve shed a tear or two.”

“Okay, now you’re just trying to make me blush,” Drew teased, pointing at you with a playful squint. “But seriously, that means a lot coming from you.”

“Hey, give credit where it’s due,” you shot back with a grin. “You’ve got this way of making everything feel so real. Like when you’re in pain, we’re in pain. When you’re in love, we’re falling right alongside you.”

“Wow,” he said, shaking his head as if to clear it. “I don’t know what to do with all these compliments. This is the best therapy session I’ve ever had.”

You laughed, crossing your legs and leaning forward slightly. “Well, I’m glad I could help. But now I’m curious—how did you prepare for a role like that? I mean, it’s so emotionally intense, no?.”

“It was a lot of journaling, a lot of talking with Luca about backstory and motivations,” Drew explained, his tone more thoughtful. “And honestly, I kind of drew from real-life experiences. Not the exact ones, obviously, but just feelings of vulnerability and… wanting to be understood.”

“That’s beautiful,” you said softly, your smile turning tender. “It’s amazing how much of ourselves we pour into these characters.”

“Exactly,” Drew agreed. “And sometimes it’s terrifying, but when it resonates with people, it feels worth it.”

“It definitely resonated with me,” you assured him. “And I’m sure with countless others too.”

“That’s really nice to hear,” he said with a soft smile.

“How was it for you to work with Luca? Because I remember it being one of the highlights of my career.”

Drew’s eyes lit up at the mention of Luca Guadagnino, and he leaned forward slightly, as if the memory itself was a magnet pulling him closer. “Oh, working with Luca was… incredible,” he said, his voice laced with awe. “He’s got this way of creating such a safe, open space on set. It’s almost like he’s not just directing—he’s inviting you into this world he’s building in his head.”

You nodded eagerly, your own memories of working with Luca bringing a nostalgic smile to your face. “I know exactly what you mean. He makes it feel like you’re collaborating on this deeply personal piece of art, rather than just executing someone else’s vision.”

“Exactly!” Drew said, gesturing animatedly. “And he has this way of pulling things out of you that you didn’t even know you had. Like, he’ll ask you one simple question, and suddenly you’re diving into this emotional rabbit hole.”

You laughed, tilting your head in agreement. “He asked me once, ‘What would this character, Maren in my case, dream about?’ and it completely changed how I approached the next scene.”

Drew’s mouth dropped open in mock surprise. “He asked me the exact same question!”

“No way!” you exclaimed, your laughter spilling out in disbelief. “I love that! It’s honestly such a deceptively simple question, but it opens up so many layers.”

“It really does,” Drew said, chuckling. “And then you’re sitting there like, ‘Okay, now I have to rethink everything I thought I knew about this character.’”

“It’s kind of genius, though,” you added. “He makes you work harder, but not in a way that feels forced. It’s like… he trusts you to figure it out, but he gives you these breadcrumbs to follow.”

“Exactly,” Drew said again, his tone growing softer. “I think that’s why his films feel so intimate, he gets the human part so right.”

You smiled, letting his words settle in the air for a moment. “I think that’s what makes working with him feel like such a privilege. It’s not just about telling a story—it’s about feeling it.”

Drew nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “And those are the moments that stick with you, you know? The ones where you felt something real, even if it was just for a moment.”

“Completely,” you agreed, your voice soft with sincerity. “Those moments are why we do this.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in companionable silence, the weight of the conversation settling in the cozy studio. Then, Drew broke the quiet with a grin. “Okay, but did Luca make you do those impromptu rehearsals at, like, the crack of dawn?”

“Oh my God, yes!” you burst out, your eyes widening. “I’d just roll out of bed with zero coffee and somehow be expected to pour my soul into a scene.”

Drew laughed, his face lighting up. “Right? It’s like, ‘Good morning, here’s your emotional breakdown for the day.’”

You laughed along with him, the shared experience adding another thread to the easy camaraderie forming between you. “But honestly, I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.”

“Same,” Drew said, his expression softening again. “For Luca? Anytime.”

“Absolutely,” you agreed, your eyes locking with his for a moment before the warmth of the studio light reminded you both that the cameras were still rolling.

Drew shifted in his seat slightly, his expression thoughtful. “You know, it’s kind of wild—hearing you talk about all these incredible experiences. You’ve been doing this for so long, and yet it’s like you’re just getting started.”

You tilted your head with a small smile. “That’s sweet of you to say. But yeah, I guess I have been in this industry for most of my life. It’s all I’ve ever really known.”

Drew’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s crazy to think about. I didn’t even consider acting until after college. You must’ve been, what, ten? Eleven?”

“Eight, actually,” you corrected with a chuckle. “My first role was in this little indie film. I was basically just the kid who ran around in the background eating ice cream, but I thought it was the coolest thing ever.”

He laughed, clearly amused. “That’s adorable. And now you’re the Hollywood It Girl. No big deal.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, your laughter light. “Oh, stop it. But yeah, it’s been a journey. Growing up on sets definitely shaped me, for better or worse. Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like to have a more ‘normal’ childhood.”

Drew’s smile softened. “That must’ve been such a whirlwind. I can’t even imagine starting that young. I didn’t even think about acting seriously until high school.”

“Oh, I’ve read about that!” You said, your voice lighting up. “You were all about sports growing up, right?”

“Yeah,” Drew admitted with a chuckle. “I was your typical small-town kid—baseball, basketball, you name it. I was convinced I was going to go pro in something, but clearly, that didn’t pan out.”

“Well, I think acting suits you pretty well.” 

“Thank you,” he says with a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “But yeah, the real shift happened in high school when I joined a drama class. It was all Samuel Beckett and absurdist plays, which at the time I thought was the coolest thing ever.”

You leaned forward, intrigued. “So that’s what pulled you in? Drama class?”

“Pretty much,” he said with a nod. “And then I went to Western Carolina for college. I double-majored in English and theater, thinking, ‘If this acting thing doesn’t work out, I’ll at least have a backup plan.’”

“That’s so realistic of you,” you said with a laugh. “Meanwhile, I was ten, telling anyone who’d listen that I was going to win an Oscar one day.”

“And look at you now,” Drew said, gesturing to you with an almost reverent smile. “You made it happen.”

You chuckled, a bit flustered by his admiration. “Well, not quite, just an Oscar nominee for now. But thank you. You know, I think your journey’s pretty incredible too. A double major? That’s no joke. And starting later in the game like you did… it must have felt like a slow burn, but it’s clearly paid off.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Drew said thoughtfully. “It was definitely a slower burn for me. I didn’t land my first real gig until I’d been auditioning for what felt like forever.”

“I think that makes your journey even more special,” you said, your tone sincere. “You came into it with all this life experience and maturity. It shows in your work, you know? There’s this depth to your performances that’s just… rare.”

Drew’s ears turned a little pink, and he laughed softly, glancing down at his hands. “Wow, you’re gonna make me blush over here.”

“Good,” you said with a teasing smile. “It’s only fair after all the compliments you’ve been throwing my way.”

He looked up, his grin sheepish but warm. “Touché. But seriously, hearing that from someone like you—someone who’s been at this for so long and is so insanely talented—it means a lot.”

“Well,” you replied with a playful tilt of your head, “I think it’s safe to say we’re officially mutual fans.”

Drew laughed at that, the sound easy and genuine. “I can live with that.”

The conversation shifted into more comfortable territory as the two of you shared experiences, trading stories about acting and the film industry. Drew, now feeling at ease, leaned forward with renewed interest.

“You know,” he began, a thoughtful expression crossing his face, “I've been thinking about how different TV shows and movies are, especially when it comes to the pacing and character development. Like, in a show, we have to maintain this ongoing energy for the characters over multiple seasons. But with movies, it’s a totally different vibe, right?”

You nodded, understanding immediately where he was going. “It’s definitely a huge shift. With TV, you’re given time to build on a character slowly. Every episode is another chapter, so you can explore new facets of them and keep the audience hooked for longer periods of time. But movies, they’re this intense sprint. You have to get everything across in just two hours or so, but in a way that feels just as layered and satisfying.”

Drew's eyes lit up with excitement, clearly passionate about the topic. "Exactly! You have to balance the action and suspense while still giving the characters these moments of vulnerability. Over multiple seasons, you can really let them grow and change. It's like a slow burn. But when you're doing a movie, you don’t have the luxury of that buildup. It has to be this concentrated emotional punch right from the start.”

“That’s one of the biggest challenges of film, for sure," you agreed. "In a film, every second counts. You can’t afford to waste a moment. But I think what’s also interesting is how both mediums can explore a character’s journey from different angles. TV shows can dive into their backstory in more detail, but movies... they really need to hit those emotional beats and leave an impact without dragging it out."

Drew smiled, clearly engaged in the discussion. “In TV shows you need that perfect balance of suspense, character development, and personal growth. And then, at the end of the season, you drop a huge bombshell that leaves people wanting more.”

You laughed, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Sounds like you’ve been doing some serious thinking about it. What’s the secret to keeping the audience hooked without losing the depth of your character?”

He leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “Well, I think it’s about letting the characters evolve with the story. You need to make sure the audience sees the human side of your character, even when they're in these crazy situations. It’s what keeps people invested in the long run.”

“You’ve really got the process figured out,” you said with a smile. “But you’re right—it’s a different rhythm for TV. With a movie, you get to go deep quickly, but with a show, you have to keep it dynamic and varied. And let’s not forget, you need that cliffhanger at the end to make people binge-watch the next season.”

Drew’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “You’re giving away all the secrets! Next thing you know, people will be expecting a cliffhanger every time they watch a movie."

“Well, movies and TV are both art, but they demand different approaches,” you said, “and you’re doing an amazing job balancing both. I’m honestly so excited to see where your career goes next. Both worlds are lucky to have you.”

He chuckled softly, clearly humbled. “Thanks. I think I’m just lucky to be a part of both. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be in a show that gets people talking for days?”

“Right? You’ve got Outer Banks, which has such a dedicated fanbase, and then movies like Queer that touch people in such a different way. It’s amazing to watch your versatility.”

He leaned in slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m just trying to keep up with you. Honestly, your transition from action to more emotional roles is inspiring. I hope I can pull off something even close to what you’ve done with your career.”

Your smile softened, your voice sincere. “Well, you’re already doing it, Drew. You’re already there. It’s not just about the roles—it’s about the heart you put into them. And you’ve definitely got that.”

Drew’s smile faltered for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. His gaze softened, as if he were truly reflecting on what you’d said. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms but keeping his eyes on you, his expression thoughtful.

“It's crazy, isn't it?” He began, his voice a little quieter now, “The idea of giving so much of yourself to something that feels so... intimate. But when it works, when the audience feels it too, there's nothing like it.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, your voice a little quieter now. “That's the real magic, when the audience feels like they know the characters, like they're right there with them. It’s not about the plot twists or the fancy sets—it’s about the emotions that we build and share with them.”

Drew nodded thoughtfully, his gaze drifting away for a moment before returning to you. “Speaking of emotions, I just saw your new movie, We Live In Time,” he said, his voice taking on a softer tone. “It’s one of those films that stays with you, you know? It’s raw in a way that makes you uncomfortable, but it’s also beautiful. How did you tap into that for Almut?”

Your expression softened as you thought back on the experience. We Live In Time had been a journey—a raw, almost therapeutic one. “It was an emotional rollercoaster, honestly,” you said, leaning back slightly, letting the memory settle in. “I think the hardest part was showing that moment where her whole world shifts. It was such a raw, profound type of emotion I had to channel in order to do justice to the character and her experiences.”

Drew sat back, letting the weight of the conversation settle. “I think that's what makes your career so incredible. You never just play a character. You become them. And you take us with you. Every heartbreak, every triumph, every moment of doubt... we feel it all with you. That's what makes your work so powerful.”

You met his gaze, feeling the depth of the conversation linger between you both. “It’s all about connection, right? Connecting with the character, with the audience, and with the emotions that we all share as humans. Because at the end of the day, we’re all just trying to make sense of time, love, and the moments we get.”

Drew smiled, his expression genuine and soft. “Well, you’ve definitely made sense of it for me. We Live In Time—it’s not just a movie. It’s a reminder to cherish what we have. And that, in itself, is something special.”

You smiled back, your heart full as you let the words sink in. “Thank you, Drew. That’s really sweet of you.”

You both shared a comfortable silence for a moment, before Drew broke it with a playful grin. “You know, it’s clear you’ve mastered the art of vulnerability on screen, but I can’t help but wonder—did you ever have moments on set where it was just... impossible to take things seriously?”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Oh, absolutely. In fact, as a kid, it was all impossible to be serious,” you admitted, shaking your head at the memory. “I remember this one time during a scene on set when I was probably around 9 or 10. We were supposed to be doing this emotional scene, and I had to cry on cue. But instead of crying, I couldn’t stop giggling. It was a dramatic moment, and my co-star was all serious and trying to get through the scene, but I just... lost it.”

Drew raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Giggling during a dramatic scene? What happened?”

“Well, my director, bless her heart, kept trying to give me these 'serious actor' looks. She was this no-nonsense kind of woman, and she had this way of narrowing her eyes when things weren’t going well. I tried my best to hold it together, but then my co-star—who was way too good at being serious—looked at me and just gave this super intense stare, and that was it. I burst out laughing right in the middle of the take.”

Drew chuckled, shaking his head. “I can just picture that. You were probably trying to hold it together, but it must have been so hard with all that tension in the air.”

“I swear, the more I tried not to laugh, the harder it became,” you continued, grinning at the memory. “It was one of those moments where you’re like, 'Why am I even here? I can’t do this.' But somehow, I got through it. The director had to take a deep breath, and we did a few more takes. Eventually, we got it done, but I think we all were on the verge of cracking up the whole time.”

Drew let out a laugh, clearly imagining the scene. “I can’t blame you. I feel like as a kid, you have no filter. Everything feels like a joke, and it’s so hard to be serious when everyone else is trying so hard.”

“You have no idea,” you said, your voice still light. “There were so many times I’d be doing a serious scene, and I’d start thinking about something random, like a certain meme or a funny sound someone made on set—and then, bam, it was game over. I’d be holding in a laugh like my life depended on it.”

Drew smirked, leaning in a little. “I totally feel that. I mean, as an adult, I still have moments where I struggle to keep a straight face. I once had a scene where I was supposed to be super intense, but the prop guy was standing just out of frame, and he made this ridiculous face at me—completely threw me off. I couldn’t stop laughing, and it ended up taking hours to finish the scene because we kept cracking up. Honestly, I think the crew started to get annoyed with us after a while.”

“See?” you said with a grin. “It never really changes. Truthfully, the older you get, the harder it becomes to hold it in. But then you look at the footage and realize how much fun you actually had, and that makes it all worth it.”

Drew nodded thoughtfully, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Yeah, that’s the thing. Sometimes it’s the moments you didn’t plan for that end up being the most memorable. Like when you have a laugh on set, and suddenly you feel closer to everyone, even though you’re supposed to be in character.”

“Exactly,” you said, your smile widening. “There’s something so beautiful about those unscripted moments. It reminds you that acting is, at its core, about connecting—whether that’s through laughter or the heavy stuff. And even though I had my fair share of giggling fits as a kid, I think those moments taught me just as much as the serious ones. Maybe more.”

Drew leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “It's funny how those little moments—like a laugh in the middle of a serious scene—can end up being the ones you remember the most. I think those are the ones that make the work feel real, you know?”

You smiled, your gaze distant as you reflected on the years of working on sets. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Yeah, like those unscripted moments,” Drew added, his voice quieter now, as if the weight of the sentiment lingered in the air. “They give the performance an authenticity that you can’t get from just following the script to a tee.”

You nodded, the words hanging between you like a shared understanding. “Exactly. And as a kid, I was so focused on getting it ‘right’—on being perfect—that I missed the beauty of just being in the moment. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized how important it is to let go of the idea of perfection. It's in those mistakes, the wrong takes, the bloopers—that's where you find the truth.”

Drew's expression softened, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that made your chest tighten. “I think it’s key not to be afraid to show the mess, the imperfect parts of a character, because that’s what makes them human.”

A small chuckle escaped you, the warmth of the moment filling the studio. “Right? We’re all just a little bit of a mess, trying to figure it out, but that’s what makes the journey worth it. We’re constantly learning, constantly evolving, and we bring that to our work. The growth, the mistakes—it all shapes us.”

Drew nodded, his gaze shifting as if reflecting on those same ideas. “Yeah, and the growth never stops, does it? Just when you think you’ve figured it out, something new happens, and it challenges you again.”

“That's the beauty of it,” you said, your voice quieter now, the bond between you both deepening. “The challenge is what keeps it exciting, keeps you moving forward.”

Drew grinned, a playful spark lighting his eyes once more. “Well, I guess we’re both lifelong students of this thing called acting, huh?”

“Absolutely,” you said with a laugh, the lightness returning. “And just like any good student, we’ll always be learning. Who knows, maybe we'll even get better at not laughing in the middle of dramatic scenes.”

Drew let out a hearty laugh, nodding enthusiastically. “I think that’s going to take years of practice, honestly.”

You both shared a moment of genuine laughter, the warmth of your conversation filling the space around you. You leaned back into the chairs, the laughter still lingering in the air, a sense of camaraderie that made the space between you feel comfortable and open. You continued sharing stories, moving seamlessly from one experience to the next.

The conversation began to slow, the easy flow of stories fading into a comfortable silence, as you both shared an unspoken understanding. The light laughter that had filled the room now felt like a warm, lingering hum between you.

Drew shifted slightly in his chair, his gaze turning toward you with a subtle, thoughtful expression. “You know,” he began, his voice softer now, “I really hope we get to work together sometime. I think it’d be incredible. It’s the kind of thing where I can already imagine what it’d be like. Just... easy, real. Like this.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you kept your composure, offering a smile that spoke volumes. “I’d love that. If you receive a call from your manager these days… maybe I had something to do with it, so be prepared.”

The air between you both was charged, the quiet intensity of the moment not lost on either of you. There was something unspoken, something deeper that neither of you addressed outright but that seemed to hang there all the same. The connection was undeniable, yet it lingered in the silence, unspoken, but clear.

Drew finally broke the spell with a playful grin, his eyes flicking back to yours. “Oh, I’ll be ready. Can’t wait to see what magic we create together.”

You returned his smile, your heart racing ever so slightly, though you kept it hidden behind the ease of your words. “I’m sure it’ll be something incredible.”

As the interview wrapped up, there was a lingering sense of something unspoken between you both, an attraction that neither of you had to mention but was so clearly felt. The kind of connection that could only be hinted at, but would never truly fade. It was the kind of moment that would stay with both of you long after the cameras stopped rolling.

“Thank you,” you said softly as the final moments of the interview started to loom, your voice carrying a depth that reflected everything unsaid between you. “This has been amazing. Honestly, it feels like we’ve been talking for hours, and yet it still doesn’t feel like enough.”

He nodded, his expression soft but genuine. “I feel the same way. This has been one of the most honest and open conversations I’ve had in a long time.”

The crew began to pack up, signaling that the interview was at its end, but neither of you seemed in any hurry to break the moment. The usual chatter and movement around you felt distant, as if the two of you were in your own world for just a little longer.

“You know,” Drew said, his voice quieter now, a hint of sincerity threading through, “I think we make a pretty good team even just sitting here talking. Imagine what we could do with a whole script.”

Your smile softened, and you nodded, the words feeling right, but the undertone of something more—something unsaid—hung in the air. “Yeah, I think we’d be unstoppable.”

The moment stretched between you both, filled with the kind of comfortable tension that comes when you realize you’ve shared something real. Something that felt like it could turn into something more.

You both stood up, a final, lingering moment before the usual goodbye. Drew extended a hand, his gaze holding yours a beat longer than necessary.

“Take care, okay?” he said, his voice warm, like the words carried more than just a polite farewell.

You shook his hand, the warmth of his touch lingering just a moment longer than expected. “You too, Drew,” you replied, your voice soft yet carrying an undercurrent of meaning that mirrored his own.

As you turned to gather your things, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder. He was still standing there, watching you with that same thoughtful expression, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. The faintest smile curved his lips, as if he were replaying the conversation in his mind.

“See you around,” he called out, the words simple but loaded with promise.

“Yeah,” you said, meeting his gaze one last time. “See you around.”

Walking away, you felt a peculiar lightness, as though something intangible had shifted, leaving you both exhilarated and curious. It wasn’t every day you met someone who made you feel seen in such a profound way, and as you left the studio, you found yourself smiling, a quiet hope blooming in your chest.

And for a fleeting second, you allowed yourself to wonder what could come next.

[moonlightrafe]

Bad Idea, Right?

summary: A night of drinking with your friends lands you at your ex boyfriend’s apartment — which is ultimately a bad idea.

pairing: Modern!Aemond x Ex girlfriend!Reader

word count: 3k

warnings: Explicit smut, alcohol consumption, angst, brief mention of drug use, language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, creampie, Aemond is a fuckboy. 18+ MDNI

note: idk how I feel about this but Modern!Aemond is my weakness, and the grwm of Ewan ruined my life. Feedback is appreciated! Feel free to send me requests!

If someone were to ask you your own personal example of girlhood your answer would be simple: getting ready for a night out with your girlfriends. While going out and partying with your friends was fun, you considered the act of getting ready together art in itself.

It was tradition, a ritual. Filled with laughter, inside jokes, excitement, and anticipation.

Glitter, hairspray, memories. It was your time to bond and let go of everyday stress.

And that’s where you found yourself right now: sat in front of your best friend’s vanity, large curlers in your hair. The sweet smell of vanilla coming from Rhaena’s birthday cake scented candle filling the room.

Six months had passed since your breakup with Aemond and the twins had declared that you had spent more than enough time moping. It was time to get you back out in the world.

“I’m so happy that us girls are going out tonight,” Baela said as she finished up applying her mascara.

You involuntarily scoffed at her comment.

“What?” She questioned, glaring at you.

“It’s not like it’s just us,” you say matter of factly.

“Oh, come on! You know Jace is basically one of us!”

She wasn’t wrong. If you had to pick a guy to be in your friend group, it would be Jace Velaryon. He was easy to talk to, kind, considerate. A breath of fresh air from what you were used to. You understood why Baela was into him. Plus, he donned a beautiful set of chocolate colored curls matched with an adorable, toothy, grin.

“Do not beat around the bush, Bae!” You admonished, “I know Cregan will be there too.”

Cregan Stark was Jace’s best friend. A rugged guy from the North. He had a thick beard and piercing gray-blue eyes. He had quiet confidence, basically a big teddy bear. There was no denying he was rather handsome. It’s not that you would be opposed to sleeping with him, per say, you just weren’t sure if you were ready yet; although Baela begged to differ.

Once the three of you were all ready to go and the Uber was on it’s way, Baela pulled you to the side.

“Look,” she began, holding each of your hands in hers, “I know you're nervous. You’ve been through a lot and it can be hard to put yourself back out there — but you deserve this. Aemond’s out living his life, you have to live yours! It’s going to be fine! You look incredible, we are going to have a great time.”

Baela, as usual, was right. You were enjoying yourself. You were now on your third drink, tapping your finger nails on the glass as you half heartedly listened to Cregan tell an embarrassing story about Jace from when the two of them were in high school when you felt your phone vibrate.

A text from an unknown number flashed against your screen, paying no mind to it you opened it immediately. Your stomach dropped.

Hey… it’s Aemond.

You swore that men had some kind of radar that would let them know when a woman was finally happy without them. When that radar went off, only then was it that they decided to try to contact you again. Not during the months where your heart was left in ruin, not when you would do anything for answers. Only once you were healing, on the brink of reaching that light at the end of the tunnel; they weaseled their way into your life once more to ruin everything — and Aemond was right on schedule.

It had been months since he last contacted you, you felt as though your stomach was gonna fall out, your nervous system in a frenzy.

You could not let him ruin your fun.

“Let’s take a shot of something,” you suggested.

And then your phone buzzed again.

I know it’s been awhile, but I wanted to see how you’re doing?

Been awhile? That’s the understatement of the year. He didn’t care how you were doing when he broke up with you over a text. He didn’t care when the rumor of him sleeping with a professor spread around campus, humiliating you.

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

Relief washed over you once you saw Baela return with 5 shots of Tequila in hand.

“Heard this makes your clothes come off,” she said as she handed you the shot glass, shooting a wink over to Cregan. You downed the shot quickly, ignoring her comment. The liquid burned down your throat as it settled into your stomach.

Slamming the shot glass onto the table, your head spun and you could’ve sworn you felt your phone vibrate again. You needed air.

“I’ll be right back, I need a cigarette.”

“I’ll come with you!” Rhaena chirped.

“No!” You shouted, almost too enthusiastically.

“No, that’s okay. I know you hate the smell of smoke, Rhae. I’ll just be a minute.”

With that, you frantically made your way to the patio of the bar. Just as you lit your cigarette a familiar voice called out to you.

“Ohhh shit! I knew that was you!”

Now you were sure that the universe was certainly conspiring against you. It was none other than Aegon Targaryen. Aemond’s drunken, perverted, older brother. Wonderful.

Turning on your heel abruptly and puffing smoke out of your nostrils you gave him a reluctant wave.

“Hi, Aeg.”

“How are you?” He asked, wrapping his arms tightly around you, “how have you been?”

Not sure if it was the liquid courage or the need for someone else to witness the audacity of your ex, but you just shoved your phone into his chest, eyes glued to him as he scrolled through the messages with his eyebrows raised.

“Damn, I never would have thought Aemond to be the type to beg!” he laughed as you shot him a look of disapproval.

“Listen,” he said before taking a long drag of his own cigarette, “Aemond means well. He was pretty shaken up after you guys broke up.”

Yeah, right. What was there for him to be shaken up about? He broke up with you.

“And if you ask me,” he continued through puffs of his cigarette, “you’re the best thing that ever happened to him.”

“Isn’t he seeing someone like, twice our age?”

“Not anymore.”

A pregnant pause filled the air between the two of you as he handed you your phone back.

The conversation was becoming awkward, so Aegon tried to comfort you the only way he knew how.

“I know you’re stressed and all… do you, uhhh, want a bump?”

His question took you by surprise.

“A bump? Um, I’m good, Aeg.. thanks.”

The blonde lifted his hands up in defeat.

“Good call, if you do go see Aemond, I doubt he would be happy about that.”

“I’m not going to see Aemond,” you answer flatly, hitting his arm lightly.

“Well, whatever or whoever you decide to do tonight I wish you luck!” he smirked, “but, I know our mom would be thrilled if you started to come around again.”

“She misses me?” you blurted out, the desperation clear in your voice.

“Yeah,” Aegon shrugged, “we all do.” He smiled as his large palm patted against your back before he made his way back inside the bar.

You stood in silence as you finished your cigarette, unsure of what to do when you received yet another text from Aemond. You responded with the first thing that came to your mind.

Have you been drinking?

No. Come over. I want to see you.

Your phone buzzed again, but this time it was a picture. A photo of his cat Vhagar. The elderly feline was sprawled out across his leather couch, the caption reading: “she misses you too.”

She did not. She only ever liked Aemond.

Well, I’ve been drinking so… can’t drive.

Where are you? I’ll come get you.

No. He couldn’t. You couldn’t risk Baela seeing, she would kill you.

Nah. That’s okay.

God, this conversation was going nowhere. Why were you entertaining him anyway?

Let me get you an Uber.

Buzz.

Please.

Gods, he was pushy.

Fine 🫠

Once you found yourself back inside the bar, you decided to use that last shot of tequila as your reason to leave. You had said something along the lines of the mixture of liquors wasn’t agreeing with you and that you were gonna head out. The girls were disappointed, but they understood. Baela’s only condition is that you were sure to text her once you were home safe. You bid Jace and Cregan goodbye, and even agreed to go out for drinks with them again in the upcoming week.

As you sat in the backseat of the Uber, your palms filled with sweat and your heart raced as you made your way to the other side of the city to Aemond’s new apartment. You couldn’t help but feel nervous, wondering how he might react and if this was the right decision. Your mind raced with thoughts and emotions, but you tried to stay composed as you you pulled up to the building.

Aemond was waiting outside the apartment complex for you. His expression was unreadable as he puffed on the last few drags of a cigarette, quickly flicking it to the ground and stomping it out so he could make his way over to you.

“Hey,” he greeted, offering a shy smile before extending his arms out to hug you. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

His scent alone was intoxicating. A mixture of nicotine, spearmint toothpaste and musky cologne. Being in his embrace again had your head spinning, you felt as if your heart was going to beat out of your chest. It was almost as if the two of you never parted ways, like he never left. Damn him, you thought to yourself .

“Well, this is my new place,” he said as he opened the door to the lavish apartment. It was absolutely was stunning. Beautiful, mahogany cabinets and stainless steel appliances. The living room was spacious with high ceilings and a giant window that had an incredible view of the city. It was very Aemond-esque. It felt familiar, safe.

You spotted Vhagar on the dark green velvet couch in the center of the room.

You watched carefully as one of her eyes opened, she rose from her spot almost instantly once she spotted you. Making a beeline to Aemond’s bedroom.

“I thought you said she missed me?” you asked playfully.

"I may have lied," Aemond replied, giving you a shy smile.

An hour had gone by and you had spent the majority of it arguing with Aemond about your past. You listened to him attempt to apologize, explaining that it wasn’t you, it was him. He made a mistake, he’s changed. You weren’t having it, and yet, in the midst of it all, you had found yourself sitting so close to him you were almost on top of him. Mid sentence he had crashed his lips against yours. A rude interruption, for sure — but now, all bets were off.

The kiss was rough and intoxicating, a clash of teeth and tongue. He grazed your bottom lip with his teeth before sucking it into his mouth. Your head spun.

"More," you whispered against his lips, "I need more of you."

Aemond took no time to pick you up and carry you to his bedroom, as he placed you down on his bed gently. You feel his hands tearing off your clothes, striping you down to your underwear. Your heart raced with anticipation and desire. The intensity of his touch sent shivers down your spine. He lowered himself on top of you, reaching his arm up over his shoulder to remove his own shirt.

As he leant back down over you, his tongue trailed from your chin to your lips. A soft moan escaped your throat as he sucked on your lips, taking control of the kiss.

Arousal stirred inside you as he nipped down at your neck, licking and sucking until you arched your back under him, desperate for his touch.

“Missed me baby?” he teased, “because I sure missed you”, his violet eye scanned over your body, blown with lust as he made his way down. His slim fingers ghosted along your stomach, then gripped harshly onto the meaty flesh of your thigh. Your legs parted, letting him know what you wanted. He didn't hesitate, pulling your underwear off with one swoop. Leaving you completely bare in front of him.

“I missed this pretty little pussy too, fuck,” he groaned before biting at your thighs just before lowering his head between them, licking a stripe up your slit. You bucked under him, pushing him harder against you, driving his face deeper into your center.

A low groan left your throat, his name falling from your lips as you tugged at his silver hair and held his face against you. His tongue circled around your clit, the small bud swollen from his attentions. His fingers found their way inside you, exploring your cunt.

His thumb replaced his tongue on your clit as he rubbed harsh figure eights against you. He continued to rub your clit harder. Your breathing quickened, and your body legs began to shake.

"Oh, there’s my girl. You gonna cum for me?"

The combination of his words and a few more thrusts of his fingers made your mind go completely blank. Your ears rang, your vision blurred so much you had to squeeze your eyes shut, eventually seeing stars. Aemond finger fucked you through your orgasm as you soaked his hand.

You laid there for a moment, total blackness surrounding you until your Aemond’s calm voice brought you back to reality.

“Holy shit. You good baby?”

You nodded your head eagerly at him, “More than okay.”

After giving you some more time to come down from your first orgasm, Aemond crawled on top of you, as he began to slowly drag his cock between your already swollen folds, swirling the tip in your wetness; almost pushing in, but not quite.

“Aem,” you moaned, “please, I need to feel you. All of you .”

“Still so needy, hm?” He teased as he buried his cock inside you to the hilt. You winced at the length of him.

“Littleeee bit of a stretch baby,” he said as he let you adjust to his size, “there we go.”

"Oh.. Gods," you moaned. You forgot just how big Aemond was. The stretch was almost unbearable and yet, you craved more. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper into you.

He began to rock back and forth into you, pumping his cock in and out. The louder you moaned, the harder he pounded into you. Eventually, the head of his cock pressed against your cervix.

"Please, please don't stop," you begged. He began to pound into you harder and faster, the lewd sound of his balls slapping against your ass filled the room. You felt your second orgasm of the night building inside of you as he continued to fuck you.

"Oh, Gods! Aemond, please, you’re going to make me cum again,” you babbled as your orgasm ripped through you once more. Your cunt clenched around his length as the tip of his cock bullied the spongy spot inside you without mercy.

Your slick coated walls contracting around him was all it took for him to lose control. He let out a loud groan as he spilled himself inside you, filling you with his seed as he bit down hard on your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned as the aftermath of his own orgasm coursed through him, his cock still twitching inside of you. After placing a wet kiss on your cheek he positioned himself upright, placing a hand flat on the headboard behind you to help keep balance, he slowly pulled his cock out of you. You winced at the emptiness, a pool of warmth leaking out of your cunt and onto the bed sheets.

“Oh, shit. Here, let me help clean you up.”

As you came down from your high, you also came to your senses. No. Him cleaning you up would be too intimate of an act — as if he wasn’t just buried inside of you.

“No, Aem. It’s fine, I need to go to the bathroom anyway.”

He shrugged, “there are washcloths under the sink if you need one.”

Your heart sank as the bathroom door shut. A red lacy bra, that definitely didn’t belong to you was slung over the door handle. Memories of your past relationship came flooding back, along with feelings of sadness and regret. You couldn’t help but wonder who the bra belongs to, your first thought was that older professor. It's a painful reminder that not only had Aemond had not changed at all, he also just took advantage of you.

This was definitely a bad idea.

[pucksandpower]

Worlds Apart

Max Verstappen x Sargeant!Reader

Summary: everyone seems to have something to say about your relationship with Max, but at the end of the day all that matters is the two of you

Warnings: Jos Verstappen

Based on a request by @butterflyexe

The sorority house is pulsing with noise — music, laughter, the clink of plastic cups. You weave through the crowd, feeling very much out of place amongst the scantily clad co-eds. Your sundress and sandals seem prudish in comparison.

“Y/N! There you are!” Chelsea, your big sister in Kappa Alpha Theta, comes barreling over with a few of her friends in tow. “We were just talking about you.”

You eye them warily. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, like how you’re totally wasting your college experience pining over some old race car driver instead of playing the field.” Chelsea’s friend, Brittany, smirks as she takes a sip of her drink.

You bristle at that. “Max is not old! He’s only 26.”

“Exactly,” Chelsea says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “You’re a sophomore dating a whole ass man who’s nearly 30. It’s weird.”

“No it’s not!” You protest, shrugging off her arm. “We’ve been together over a year. I really like him.”

“Like him?” Brittany scoffs. “Wake up, Y/N. He’s an international celebrity dating a little college student. You’re just his side piece.”

The words hit like a slap to the face. “That’s not true!”

“Then why does he never post about you on social media?” Chelsea counters. “I follow him and you’re never on his accounts.”

“We just value our privacy,” you mumble, but her words have sown seeds of doubt.

Chelsea gives you a pitying look. “Honey, I’m just trying to watch out for you. There are so many great guys here on campus that would treat you right.”

Your eyes narrow at the dig. “You mean like those meathead frat bros that never shut up about their high school glory days? No thanks.”

The girls all gasp in mock offense. Brittany steps closer, using her height advantage to loom over you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking about our men like that.”

“Yeah?” You stand your ground, hands on your hips. “Well maybe if they acted like men instead of immature little boys, I wouldn’t have to.”

A hush falls over the nearby crowd, all eyes on your confrontation. Brittany looks murderous until one of her sidekicks tugs her sleeve, murmuring “Let’s go, it’s not worth it.” She sneers at you one last time before stalking off, leaving you and Chelsea alone.

Your big sister sighs, rubbing her temples. “Why are you so hell-bent on making this hard on yourself, Y/N? Max is a world away, both physically and in terms of life experience. You could have any guy at this school eating out of the palm of your hand. Why not take advantage of that?”

Her words are salt in the wound. You blink back tears, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Because I love Max. He makes me incredibly happy. And yeah, the distance is hard and he’s older and more established in his career. But he’s kind and smart and we just … connect, you know? I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”

Chelsea shakes her head pityingly. “I’m just trying to watch out for you. I’d hate to see you get your heart broken over some long-distance fling.”

“It’s not a fling!” You’re sick of trying to convince everyone. Pushing past her, you storm out of the suffocating house and into the cool night air. Gulping it down, you sink down onto the steps, chest heaving with anger and hurt and frustration.

Alone at last, you let the tears come. You know the doubts eating at you are unfair — Max has been nothing but devoted and caring throughout your relationship, even with his insanely busy schedule. But the fears voiced by Chelsea and her crew have burrowed under your skin. Maybe you are just a naive little plaything for him. Maybe he’ll eventually get bored and move on to someone more sophisticated and on his level.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket — a FaceTime call from the man in question himself. You fumble to answer it, swiping hastily at your damp cheeks. “H-Hey you.”

“There’s my gorgeous girl!” His bright smile fills the screen, momentarily banishing your worries. “I only have a few minutes before FP1, but I couldn’t wait to see that pretty face.”

You can’t help but return his warm grin, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I miss you so much, Max.”

His brow furrows at your tone. “What’s wrong, liefje? You sound upset.”

You want to brush it off, but maybe this is your chance to finally get those nagging fears off your chest. “It’s just … things have been rough lately with the girls. They keep saying I’m wasting my time with you, that you’re going to leave me for someone else, that I’m just a naive little girl you’re using for fun.”

He’s silent for a long moment, then curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That must be really hard to deal with, on top of the distance.”

“It is,” you admit, blinking back fresh tears. “And as much as I try to ignore them and have faith in us, their words have started to get to me. I mean … why don’t you ever post about me on social media? Do you not want the world to know about me?”

A shadow crosses his features. Clearly he’s heard this criticism before. “My reasons for keeping my relationships private have nothing to do with you, okay? I keep that part of my life off social media to avoid a media frenzy and protect the people I care about.” His expression softens. “But you better believe everyone important in my life knows about you — my family, my closest mates. Hell, the whole Red Bull garage is sick of hearing me go on and on about how amazing my girl is.”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears, some of the weight lifting off your chest. “Really?”

“Of course!” He chuckles. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. No matter how far apart we are or what anyone else says, you’re the only one I want.”

Your cheeks flush at his heart-melting words. In that moment, you don’t care about your snotty sorority sisters or the distance or anything else — just being completely in love with this amazing man. “I wish you were here,” you murmur, drinking in every detail of his face. “I miss holding you so damn much.”

Max’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Maybe you can show me how much later tonight, when we’re all alone to video call properly?”

You giggle and smack your hand over the camera, feeling suddenly shy. “Max Verstappen, you incorrigible flirt!”

“You love it.” His voice takes on a deeper, huskier tone that sends tingles down your spine. “And you’re going to love what I have planned for your next visit even more ...”

You spend the next few giddy minutes shamelessly flirting back and forth, soaking up precious moments of intimacy through the phone line to sustain you until you can be together again. When his race engineer appears in the background, beckoning him to the track, you’re both full of regretful sighs.

“Duty calls,” Max says wistfully. “But I’ll call you later, okay? We can pick up where we left off ...” He waggles his eyebrows mischievously.

You can’t stop your face-splitting grin. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“Bye schatje. Love you to the moon and back.”

“Love you too!” You clutch the phone to your chest after he disconnects, completely lovestruck. All your insecurities have melted away under the heat of Max’s devoted words and that heart-stopping smile.

It’s going to be okay.

He chose you — Y/N Sargeant, sophomore student, for all your flaws and relative immaturity. And you’ve never felt luckier.

Spirits lifted, you bound back into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. You’ll ignore Chelsea and her nasty friends for the rest of the night, instead losing yourself in daydreams of the next time you’ll be wrapped in Max’s strong arms.

Your relationship may be a long-distance whirlwind, but you’re all in and you’ve never been happier. Let the other sorority girls whisper — you’ve snagged yourself a keeper.

***

Max drains the last of his water bottle as he exits the Red Bull garage, sweat still beading on his brow from the qualifying session. He stretches his arms over his head with a satisfied groan — even after all these years in Formula 1, there’s no better feeling than pushing a car to its limits on the track.

“Max! A word, if you please.”

He cringes at the familiar bark, turning to find his father bearing down on him like a storm cloud. So much for basking in the post-qualifying glow. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jos’ mouth presses into a grim line, eyes smoldering behind the lenses of his sunglasses. “Well, for one, I saw that interview of yours from yesterday making the rounds online.”

Max fights the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his old man would find something to criticize. “And? I thought it was pretty standard, nothing controversial.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be controversial.” Jos sneers the word like a curse. “But dodging questions about your girlfriend and claiming you prefer to keep your private life private? It’s only going to stoke more media speculation and rumors.”

“Is that so bad?” Max counters. “I like to keep things out of the spotlight as much as I can. You know how ravenous the press is.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, son.” Jos steps closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous hiss. “I know exactly who this girl of yours is.”

Max feels his hackles rising at his dad’s dismissive tone when speaking about you. He opens his mouth to retort, but Jos barrels on.

“First it was that damn Kelly Piquet and her baggage, and now you’ve upgraded to jailbait? What is it with you and dating either old hags or naive teenagers, Max?”

“That’s enough!” Max snarls, feeling his face flush with anger. “How dare you talk about them like that, especially Y/N. She’s an incredible woman, and our age gap means nothing.”

Jos scoffs loudly. “Come off it, boy! She’s just a child, a nobody playing at being a WAG. You were born for greatness, bred to be a champion. Why on earth would you hitch your wagon to some college bimbo barely out of nappies?”

It’s like a red mist descends over Max’s vision at his father’s vile words about you. Before he can stop himself, his fist lashes out and connects squarely with Jos’ jawbone, sending the older man stumbling back.

“Don’t you ever speak about her that way again,” Max seethes, cradling his throbbing hand. “Y/N is ten times the person you’ll ever be. Smart, mature, driven as hell —she’s going to accomplish incredible things someday, whether you respect her or not.”

Jos regains his footing, clutching the blooming bruise on his cheek and glaring daggers at his son. “How dare you strike me, you ungrateful little shit! I gave you everything — the training, the opportunities, the sacrifices to get you to this level. And this is how you repay me?”

Max refuses to be baited, meeting his father’s glare with stony resolution. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on being such a hateful, miserable bastard all the time, I wouldn’t have to. All I want is for you to be civil and show some respect. Is that too much to ask?”

He huffs out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “But that’s not your way, is it? You’d rather condemn me for daring to find happiness with someone, just because she’s younger or doesn’t fit into your narrow ideas of what my life should look like. Well, I’ve got a newsflash for you. It’s my fucking life and I’ll live it however I damn well please.”

Jos opens his mouth, undoubtedly to fire off more vitriol, but Max cuts him off with a raised hand. He’s said his piece, expending the last of his energy and patience dealing with his father’s bullheadedness — at least for today. Right now, all he wants is to retreat somewhere quiet and let his thoughts drift across the ocean to you.

“Save it. I’m done arguing.” He turns on his heel and stalks away, Jos shouting insults at his retreating back.

Don’t react, don’t react. His jaw clenches almost painfully as he navigates the familiar path back to his driver’s room, typing out a quick message.

You free to chat soon, gorgeous? Need to hear your voice.

The reply comes almost instantly. For you, always. Give me 20 mins? ❤️

He can’t stop the surge of warmth at your words, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. That’s his girl — always knowing exactly what he needs, even from thousands of miles away. And isn’t that what matters most of all?

After showering and changing into casual sweats and a t-shirt, Max sinks onto the small couch placed against the wall, pillows arranged just so to prop up his aching back and shoulders. He picks up his phone and dials your number, heart rate kicking up a notch in eager anticipation.

After what feels like an eternity but is surely only a few rings, your face fills the screen. You must have just gotten back from class — your hair is tousled and loose, your makeup-free skin flushed and glowing in the South Florida sun.

“Well hey there, handsome.” Your teasing smirk dissipates as you get a better look at him. “Max? Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

“I am now,” he manages, relief already washing over him at the simple sight of you. He drinks in every last detail like a man parched. “Just had a bit of a run-in with my dad and needed an escape.”

Concern flashes in your warm eyes. “Oh no, what happened?”

So he tells you — the interview rumors, his dad ambushing him and lobbing insults, the explosive fight that caused him to lose his cool and strike the first blow. You listen with sympathy, every encouraging nod and murmured reassurance calming his frazzled nerves until the story is spent, leaving him strangely at peace.

“Thank you for sharing all that with me, babe,” you say once he’s finished. Your voice is gentle but firm. “I’m sorry Jos was so out of line, but you were totally right to stand up to him. Nobody gets to dismiss our relationship or talk about you like that.”

Max blows out a long breath, raking a hand through his shower-damp hair. “I know, I just … I hate letting him get under my skin like that, you know? No matter how much I try to rise above it, he always finds a way to trigger something deep down. It’s exhausting constantly needing to defend myself and the people I care about.”

“But that’s not your burden to bear alone, Max.” You shake your head adamantly, jaw set in that stubborn way he loves. “Let me help shoulder that weight, even if I can’t actually be there physically yet. I’m on your team, remember? We’re partners. I’ve got your back.”

Your words loosen a knot of tension he didn’t realize he was carrying. Of course you get it, you always do. He knows in that moment how lucky he is to have found his teammate, his shelter in the storm that rages on no matter how successful he becomes.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” His voice comes out low, thick with emotion. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

Your radiant smile could power entire cities. “By being you, silly. And for the record, your dad is way off base. There’s nothing wrong with you wanting a mature, driven, accomplished partner — even if she happens to be younger.”

“Age shaming goes both ways, apparently.”

“Apparently,” you agree wryly. “I had my own fun today ...”

As you launch into explaining the shenanigans that occurred during your morning lecture, Max feels himself relaxing further and further into the couch, a dopey grin spreading across his face. On and on the two of you go, playfully trading stories until his father and the endless pressures of his career have fully melted away, replaced by this perfect bubble the two of you inhabit.

When you hit a lull, stifling a yawn behind your hand, Max reluctantly decides to let you go for the night. “Do you have some time before your next class? You should get some rest.”

“Aw, I’m fine!” You protest through another jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m not done talking to my favorite driver yet.”

Max chuckles fondly. This stubborn streak of yours will be the death of him someday. “We both know that’s a lie. I can practically hear your bed calling your name for a nap from here.”

“Hmph, fine.” You stick out your full bottom lip in an exaggerated pout that makes his heart skip. “I guess if you insist on being all reasonable and stuff.”

“That’s me, a real fun-sucker.” He matches your playful tone, though his eyes are serious. “But before you go … can you just say it? For me?”

You immediately soften, gazing at him through the camera with so much tenderness, it almost winds him. “I love you, Max. More than anything.”

He exhales heavily, as if your words have physically lifted a weight from his shoulders. “I love you too, Y/N. And your love, your belief in me … it’s everything. Never doubt that, okay?”

“I won’t if you don’t,” you promise with a wink. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be dreaming of you.”

“Sweet dreams, liefje.”

Even after disconnecting the call, Max sits there for several long moments, staring at the now-dark screen with a besotted grin. His chest is pleasantly warm, full to bursting with the soul-deep reassurance that only you can provide.

Screw whatever toxic nonsense his dad tries to peddle about your age gap or his career. You’re the beating heart that sustains him, the sun around which his entire universe orbits. No disapproving authority figure or rumor mill gossip could ever change that fundamental truth.

So let his father rage and splutter all he wants about how “inappropriate” your relationship is. Max has tasted the extraordinary, found his home and partner in the most vibrant woman he’s ever met. All those lonely, empty years without that missing piece suddenly feel like a hazy, long-forgotten dream.

As Max sips his energy drink and prepares for another demanding few hours at the track, he can’t keep the dopey smile off his face. You’re worth enduring a thousand more shouting matches with his dad, worth traversing any distance just to hear your laugh again.

Max is the luckiest bastard alive to have earned your heart, and he’ll never take that gift for granted.

***

You shoulder your backpack and push through the double doors of the lecture hall, finally free from classes for the summer. The late afternoon sun bakes the quad in a warm glow as you pause for a moment, breathing in the sweet semi-tropical air.

For two years, this campus has been your entire world. Endless cycles of classes, parties, study sessions, and chaos with your sisters from Kappa Alpha Theta. But now, as you glance around at the laughing students basking in the first days of freedom, you feel a strange sense of restlessness settle over you.

Like there’s some place — somewhere ��� else you’re meant to be.

Shaking it off, you start heading for the student parking lot to meet up with Chelsea. You only make it a few steps before unusually loud cheers and shouts draw your attention to a small crowd forming near the front entrance.

Rows of parked cars block your view, but the distinctive growl of a high-performance engine cuts through the commotion. Your pulse instantly kicks up a notch as your mind puts it together.

That’s no ordinary car.

That’s a multimillion dollar, 800 horsepower British rocket. Sleek, powerful, luxuriously elegant.

Just like-

“No way ...” you breathe out, books slipping from your slackened grip as the glossy green bodywork of an Aston Martin DBS Superleggera slides into view. Because draped over the driver’s side door in that achingly familiar display of casual arrogance ...

“Max!” You shout his name in disbelieving joy even as your feet are carrying you toward him at a full sprint.

His head snaps up at the sound and your heart nearly stops at the way his whole face ignites with radiant delight. That brilliant smile you’ve ached to see in person for so long now stretching those full lips in the most heart-stoppingly beautiful way.

He pushes off from the car, hands outstretched, and in the space of a single frantic heartbeat you’ve flung yourself into his arms with a breathless laugh.

“What are you doing here?” You demand giddily as Max’s strong arms engulf you, swinging your frame around in a tight circle. You’re vaguely aware of the other students going nuts, people shouting and whistles piercing the air, but you only have eyes and ears for this incredible man holding you tightly.

Max just chuckles warmly, murmuring your name with raw affection before crashing his lips to yours in a scorching kiss that leaves you dizzy. You melt into the fierce embrace, parting your lips eagerly to taste the slight sweetness of Red Bull and dark chocolate that is so distinctly Max.

“Surprise, schatje,” he rumbles against your smiling mouth between heated, openmouthed kisses. “Thought I would swing by and pick up my favorite student myself.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh delightedly, cupping his chiseled jaw to drink in every perfectly imperfect inch of his beloved face. The strong jawline, the dimpled chin, those piercing blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he beams at you.

“When did you … how did you …” You’re at a loss for words, overcome with giddy euphoria at having Max here, warm and solid and real in your arms again after so many endless months.

A fresh wave of cheers and hollers suddenly cuts through your joyful bubble as half the crowd seems to recognize the celebrity in their midst. Dozens of camera phones whip out to capture the unexpectedly intimate reunion between you and Max.

“Who is that guy?”

“No way, that’s Max freaking Verstappen!”

“Y/N, how do you know Max Verstappen?”

The shouts and questions reach a fever pitch, finally breaking through your amorous fugue. Blushing furiously, you pull back just enough to murmur against Max’s chest.

“Well, much as I’d love to keep making out with my insanely hot boyfriend in the middle of campus, maybe we should take this somewhere a bit more private?”

Max gives a deep, rich laugh at that, the sound vibrating pleasantly against you.

“You are a wise woman, liefje,” he praises in that deliciously accented baritone. He presses one last, searing kiss to your smiling lips before reluctantly disentangling himself. “Though I would have thought you might like to give all your classmates one more delightful bit of inspiration to remember you by before you depart for the summer?”

He leers at you playfully as a chorus of whoops and whistles greets his flirtatious suggestion. You can’t help but bark out a laugh, shoving his chest lightly in mock admonishment even as heat rushes to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

“No, just hopelessly in love with you,” he counters easily, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness in his voice and touch instantly gentles your teasing mood into something infinitely fonder.

This remarkable man, so genuine and caring beneath the roguish exterior cultivated for the cameras. You’re struck by a sudden lance of melancholy at the thought of how little the world really knows of the real Max Verstappen.

But then his eyes crinkle in that way that speaks of unabashed adoration just for you and the feeling passes. Because you know him better than anyone. And he sees you just the same. Two souls intertwined by a rare, precious understanding.

Max’s hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your thundering pulse point. The tender motion instantly sets your nerves alight with renewed longing.

“So,” his voice drops to an impossibly deep bedroom octave meant only for your ears. “Shall we give the good people at the University of Miami one last show before I whisk you away for a few months of long overdue privacy?”

There’s the barest hint of a filthy promise underlying the words. You swallow thickly, unconsciously pressing closer as Max’s velvet tones wash over you like a physical caress.

“And just where will you be taking me?” You manage to tease back, forcing a bravado your hammering heart doesn’t feel.

“Well ...” He leans in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. You shiver helplessly at the heated puff of air ghosting your sensitive skin.

“First,” he begins in a heated murmur, “we’re going to swing by your sorority house to gather your belongings.”

“Okay ...” You nod faintly, hyper-aware of Max’s intoxicating proximity.

“Then I’ll be driving us straight to your parents’ place in Fort Lauderdale,” he continues lowly. “Per the strict instructions of one Logan Sargeant, of course.”

You can’t help the surprised laugh that bursts forth. Trust your brother to strong-arm his way into Max’s surprise plans.

“He didn’t give you too hard a time, did he?” You ask through your giggles. “I can only imagine the threats he must have ...”

You trail off at the feeling of Max’s talented mouth blazing a trail of kisses along the slender column of your throat. Every exploratory brush of his lips and insistent swipe of tongue steals the breath from your lungs.

“Max ...” You whine out his name without conscious thought, going pliant against the solid wall of his body.

“Shhh,” he rumbles against your overwrought senses. “Let me finish first.”

There’s a maddening pause where the only sounds are the rushing waves of cheers and chaos from the delighted crowd watching your every move, hungered gazes drinking in every scorching caress Max bestows upon you. Under any other circumstances, the thought of being so shamelessly devoured by hundreds of strangers’ eyes would have you recoiling in embarrassment.

But Max’s presence, his heated touch and low, sinful voice have you spellbound, uncaring of your audience.

“After we’ve satisfied your family’s demands to see us with their own eyes,” he purrs. “We’ll be boarding my jet bright and early for someplace much more ... pleasurable.”

Your skin prickles with delicious tension as Max continues in that low, rough whisper.

“We’ll spend a few lazy days lounging on a private beach in Aruba, just the two of us.” His large hand roves provocatively down the curve of your spine to boldly grip your backside, pulling your hips flush against the insistent bulge in his designer jeans. “Catching up on all the things I’ve been dreaming about for months, schatje.”

A tremulous whimper escapes your parted lips at the blatant promise underlying Max’s words. You flatten your palms against the firm planes of his chest, feeling his powerful heartbeat thundering in time with your own.

“A-And after that?” You somehow manage in a breathy rasp, scarcely daring to hope.

Max’s only response is a low, thrumming chuckle that you feel vibrate across your heated skin. His chin dips, molten blue eyes searing into yours with naked hunger.

“After that?” He husks, stealing the breath from your lungs with a devastating grin. “Well, then I’ll finally get to introduce the world to my favorite girl.”

And neither of you can wait.

[monstersflashlight]

Advent calendar: Day 18. Holiday knot

Yeti x fem!reader || semi-public sex, oral sex, knotting

You had a great idea for your anniversary. Since you married your yeti husband, you’d been trying to get him to chase you through the woods, but seeing as it was mid December and the temperatures would probably kill you if you ran naked… You decided to make it special in other ways.

You wore a nice coat, the longest one you had, with extra padding on the inside so you’d be warm no matter what. And under it you wore… almost nothing. You bought the naughty lingerie so long ago you almost forgot you had it, but at the last second you put it on and walked to his office as a normal day. You had dinner with him once a week, always on Wednesdays, and he was always waiting for you.

But this time around you had a bit of a surprise.

You opened the door to his office and closed behind you, making sure the blindfolds were down and the secretary left for her lunch. He was on a call you weren’t too interested in, you could only focus on the feel of the coat against your naked skin and the way your heart was trying to escape from your chest.

Even from afar he was magnificent, giant and furry and so incredibly beautiful in his monster features that you were dripping wet even before he even breathed in your direction. You’d never felt so strongly about any human, but as soon as you met him… you were done for good. Forget human tiny dicks, who wanted that when you could have giant ridged dicks that knotted you until you were dripping cum for hours after?

You were a bit nervous, you knew he’d love your surprise, but you were way past your honeymoon phase and maybe office sex wasn’t on his kink-list… Maybe.

“Well, hello there, wife,” he greeted you in his most cheerful rough voice, making you shiver.

It was now or never.

You slipped the upper part of your coat down your shoulders, exposing the red lingerie framing your tits in the most amazing way. He choked on a breath, and that encouraged you. You let the coat fall to the floor, pooling at your feet as you blinked slowly at him. And you realized the exact moment when he saw the mistletoe adorning your panties.

In a flash, literally the time it took for you to blink, he had jumped over the table and was crowding you, his giant sized body pulling you up and against the door. You shivered in anticipation, his rough breathing matching your accelerated heartbeat.

He bit down on your neck playfully. “You smell like cookies, wife…” He rumbled against your ear. That meant you were excited, that you were aroused, he loved the smell of cookies as much as he loved the smell of your horniness. “You came here wanting to be ravished by a monster?” He teased, his voice amused but his dick very hard under your barely covered ass.

Your nerves got the best of you when you answered: “Really? If you… If you want to...”

He pulled back a fraction, his big white inhuman eyes looking straight into yours, almost shocked when he deadpanned: “Do I want to fuck my wife in my desk? Yes. What kind of question is that?”

“I- I didn’t know if you’d be up for it,” you confessed, feeling shy all of sudden.

“Wife, I’ve wanted to fuck you over that desk since the first time you came to have lunch with me. And you are making my fantasies come true right now, you are the bestest of wives,” he said between soft kisses around your face, making you giggle with his sudden affection.

But it wasn’t all that soft, his dick was pressing insistently against your ass and you wriggled your bottom until he was whimpering, his strong arms holding you up as he walked to the desk and sat you there. He kissed you softly on the lips, and then sat down on his chair, legs open and erection very clear in his slacks. Fuck, he looked good enough to eat with his fur peaking through the buttons of his shirt, sleeves rolled up…

But he was only staring at you, not doing anything. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?” You asked, a bit confused at the situation.

“Oh, yes… I’m definitely going to. But first: lunch.” That was all he said before his face was buried in your pussy as he pushed the panties to the side, not even taking them off.

He devoured your center with desperation, with a hunger so primal and deep that you didn’t know if you would survive. It was the best oral sex ever, and he had just started. He kept grunting and moaning against your sex, his furry face getting messy with your juices as he enjoyed himself. You could only hold onto his hair and pull every time he tried to get a breath in between licks. You didn’t care if he breathed or not, you only needed him against your pussy, his fingers playing dexterously with your clit.

“I’m- I’m gonna…!” You tried to warn, but you were too slow.

The orgasm crashed into you like a tidal wave as your body convulsed over the desk, his hands holding you down as you knocked a few things off the table. He only chuckled against your pussy, probably not caring you were destroying some important documents.

He pulled back, whipping your juices away from his chin and licking his fingers clean. That movement was so hot that you whimpered as he smirked at you. He knew what he was doing.

“Now the main course,” he said, ripping the panties off and pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. You groaned whorishly and he smirked again, his fangs so big you couldn’t suppress a shiver.

You thought he would push inside in one go, but he chose a tortuous pace, his dick breaching you so slowly and thoroughly that you could feel him everywhere at once. His hands were on your boobs, on your ass, on your clit… And his dick kept going deeper and deeper. Your brain was barely functioning at that point, not caring about the noise of the possibility of someone finding you. You could only focus on the way he felt against you.

But once he bottomed out, there was no place for soft sex anymore. He started a rough pace, fucking in and out of you with the desperation of a husband in his anniversary. With the desperation of a yeti who found his mate in the middle of a big city. With the hunger of a monster in need of his bride. And you ate it up, matching his noises and groans, moving against his body until you were both sweaty and your lingerie was probably beyond repair.

But you didn’t fucking care.

It felt so good. It felt too good.

“I’m going to knot you,” he warned.

“But we- Someone could...” you tried to argue without much strength. You wanted it. You wanted it more than anything. You needed it like you needed breathing.

“Let them,” he grunted. The rough tone and the way his dick hit your G-spot just right at the same time his thumb rubbed your clit was enough to send you over the edge once again. “Fuck, so tight, so good…”

He kept chanting how good your pussy was when you felt the erratic thrusts and the beginning of his knot at your entrance. He pushed one last time before it fully developed inside of you, locking you two together as he came over and over inside your welcoming heat.

His body was holding you down as you breathed calmly, his dick still twitching inside of you as he kept coming and coming. You knew this would take a while, and you were more than content to just wait it out. It felt great to have him inside, almost like cockwarming but… bigger. Maybe you should try cockwarming next.

“Stop thinking so hard,” he complained against your neck, landing a few soft kisses and scratching you with his fangs, making you shiver.

By the time his knot went down, you felt almost coherent again, but when you got up and felt the first gush of cum out of you, you were already thinking if he could fuck you again soon. You were about to tease him to get a rise out of him when he beat you to it.

“Are you going to walk back home with my cum leaking down your tights?” He asked as you put your coat back on, hiding your body from him. There was an edge to his voice that you couldn’t quite place.

“I’m going to the car and then I’ll drive home,” you explained, a smirk on your lips when you realized what he wanted. “Do you want me to plug myself and wait until you get home?” You asked back, a blush covering your cheeks as his eyes turned big, his dick filling inside his slacks once more.

“Fuck. Yes,” he groaned. “I’d be there as soon as possible, I just have one meeting.”

“Don’t be late or I’ll start without you, I bought a new toy…” You commented before closing the door, laughing when you heard the curse behind you.

You didn’t get to the elevator before his big body was hoisting you up between giggles and walking to the stairs with you over his shoulder. “Forget the meeting, forget the elevator, I need you in our bed ASAP,” he roared as you laughed.

[freedomfireflies]

Infinite You*

Summary: The one where Harry is in an open relationship with your best friend, and maybe you have more in common than you realized.

(Based on this request! There is no third, just Harry and Reader!)

Word Count: 8.6k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, choking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, Sir Kink

You’ve never noticed how incredibly attractive Harry Styles is.

Granted, that’s because you’ve never really allowed yourself to notice how attractive he is, but you notice today because that’s why you’re here. To notice. To study. To decide if this is worth it.

He’s not making it easy on you. Walking around the apartment with his shirt off, and his sweatpants low, and his hair wet. Reaching into the refrigerator and showcasing all the stunningly hard muscles in his back. The scattered tattoos. The chunky rings on his fingers.

You swallow.

You hadn’t planned to entertain this idea. You thought it was weird—strange in more ways than one. But you agreed to talk to him, see if it was a good fit, and now…here you are.

“So,” he calls as he straightens up and turns to face you. “What do you wanna know?”

“Uh…what do you want to tell me?” you call back. You wish you were smoother.

But he only smirks. He knows you’re nervous. And he knows you’re staring, which seems to amuse him. “Well, first things first, nothing happens that you don’t want.”

He’s kind. Considerate. Hot. It makes your stomach flip.

“Okay,” you say before swallowing thickly. “Great, I mean. That’s…that’s good.”

He walks back to the living room. He’s still amused. You’re still sweating. “If you do decide you want to, we can talk about ground rules and boundaries. Decide what you’re comfortable with. Go over when and where. Things like that.”

“Okay…okay, good.”

“Yeah. And if we don’t want to, we won’t.”

“Right.”

He takes a sip of his water. He’s hiding his smile. “Do you have any questions for me?”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “Nope.”

He’s unconvinced. Hesitating a moment before crouching down near your legs and glancing up at you as though to implore you and chastise you all with the same look. 

“Kitten,” he murmurs, and your heart just about beats out of your chest. “If we’re going to do this, I need you to be honest with me. That’s one of my rules. I need you to be vocal. Tell me exactly what you want and what you don’t.”

And you understand. You do. Consent isn’t a question. And you admire that he’s so adamant and unwavering. But that doesn’t mean you know what you want to say.

“I know,” you whisper, and his presence is different. Before, he was Harry: Rebecca’s boyfriend.

Now he’s Harry: the guy you might sleep with.

And it’s strange, and it’s new, and it doesn’t make a lot of sense. And you’re having quite the time trying to wrap your head around it.

But his presence is soothing. Calm. Doing more for your nerves than you initially realized. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers back, reaching a hand toward your knee. Long fingers squeezing it once. Comfort. “We’re just talking, yeah?”

You nod and force the first question out of your throat. “Do you…do you guys do this a lot?”

“No,” he answers coolly. He’s relaxed, and it helps. “Not with friends. Not really at all. Not unless it’s right. We don’t force it. If we find someone, we find someone.”

“Ah.” You nod again like you understand but you don’t. “And…you guys are both okay with this? Really?”

He smiles. Squeezes your knee again. “Yes. As long as you are.”

You smile back, and you realize your heart isn’t racing as much anymore. “Right. And…you don’t think this is weird? I mean…her pimping you out just to help me?”

He laughs, and you decide right then and there that you love the sound of his laugh. “No, I don’t,” he admits. “She’s not pimping me out. I offered.”

You lean back. “You offered?”

“She told me you weren’t having a good time with the guys you were meeting, and I said I could help.” He shrugs once. He’s so calm. “She liked the idea and told me she’d bring it to you.”

And you remember when she did. Remember how casually she’d said, “If you ever wanna use Harry…you’re more than welcome to.”

And you’d blinked at her because you couldn’t understand it at all. 

But she explained, “He and I have always been in an open relationship. And if you need a bit of…practice or just need someone to scratch that itch, I think he’d be really good. You could talk to him, see what you think?”

You were sure she was messing with you. You weren’t desperate and horny enough to go fucking her boyfriend, but she was more than all right with it. She assured you of that many times. Suggested you just talk to him and see how it made you feel. She gave you his number. You made a time to meet.

And now here you are, wondering if you really are about to go through with it.

“You…you want to help?” you ask him again, and he nods. 

“If you want me to.” Another squeeze to your knee. “Kitten, there’s no pressure here. It’s just a conversation. And if we decide no, then we won’t, and it’ll be all right.”

“But it’s…I mean, won’t it be like cheating?” Your hands begin to twist together on your lap. “What if you regret it? Or what if she regrets it?”

“We won’t. We agreed to this,” he says, and he’s still so calm. “This only works if she and I are honest. We know that. And we want to try new things, new people. Plus, she adores you. I do, too. But if you think it feels like cheating, then we don’t have to. We can end the conversation right now.”

A beat. He lets this settle.

“But if you want to try,” he continues softly, “then we’ll ease into it. We’ll go at a pace you’re comfortable. Yeah? This is all up to you.”

You feel your cheeks growing warm. He’s so good. “What if I’m not any good? And you’ve wasted your time? And I made this weird for no reason?”

He smiles, and his eyes are like meadows. Soft and serene. He straightens up just enough to brush his thumb along your chin and relax you. 

“There is no possible world where you aren’t good,” he murmurs, and somehow…you believe him. “But if you’re nervous, we’ll plan for that, too. We’ll communicate. I can help you find what makes you feel good.”

You walked into his apartment—into their apartment—sure you wouldn’t be doing it. Sure that there was no way you’d ever believe this to be a good idea.

But here you are, seriously considering it. Teetering on the edge of agreement, ready to fall into his arms.

“Are you sure you want to?” you ask him again. “Are you sure you don’t just feel bad for me?”

His brows pinch together, and he seems confused. But he’s still smiling. “Kitten, believe me. There is nothing I have ever wanted to do more. Sex is intimate and it’s tricky and it’s confusing. And you should only ever be with someone that makes you feel good. Feel safe. And if I can be that person for you, then I want to be. As long as you want me to be, too.”

And you do. You do. You aren’t sure if you even realized how badly until now.

You nod, and his touch lowers. “Okay,” you decide. “Okay, I want to.”

He does his best not to appear too excited, but you can see it there behind his grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You straighten your shoulders. “If…I mean, it’s just once, right? We do this, it’s over, we all go back to how it was before, and we don’t talk about it.”

Another beat. “If that’s what you want.”

“Oh, it is,” you assure him with a soft scoff. “No, I’m already gonna have a hard time looking you in the eye. And Rebecca. This is…it’s just…it’s weird.”

He drops his hand to your knee and squeezes it once more. “We don’t have to do this—”

“No, I do want to,” you assure him. “I really do, I just…it is weird. Maybe a good weird, but still weird. And I’m okay with that. I just…I want to, and we can, and then we don’t have to talk about it. Okay?”

 He nods. “Okay.”

The living room grows quiet. You aren’t sure what to do now. You aren’t sure if you’ve offended him. You don’t think he ever gets offended. He never has before. As Rebecca’s Harry.

But today he is Just Harry and Just Harry is very calm as he waits for you to continue.

You swallow again. “So…now what?”

“You tell me.” He stands, and you’re eye-level with his bare, toned stomach. 

“Uh…okay.” You shift. “Do…you wanna do it tonight?”

“Sure.”

“Do…do you wanna do it at my place?”

“Sure.”

“Do…I need to pick up…condoms?”

He smiles. “I’ve got some I’ll bring.” He nods at you. “And I’m clean, too. Got tested right after she told me.”

God, this is all so real. “Good. I did, too. Not that there was really much…chance. Since it’s been, like…three years.”

He doesn’t have a reaction to this admission. Most guys do. They think it’s weird you’ve been so long without sex. They think you’re a virgin again. They don’t want anything to do with you.

Harry has no reaction. He doesn’t seem disappointed, or relieved, or embarrassed for you, or even repulsed. 

“Good,” is all he says before running a hand through his damp curls. “What time would you like me to meet you?”

“Uh…5? No…7?” You wince. “I don’t know how long it’ll take, but…if it’s just a few minutes, then—”

“A few minutes?” Now he’s amused. “Is that all you think I can last?”

Your expression drops. “I…no. No, I just…I don’t know. Most guys tap out after a bit, so I figured—”

“Kitten,” he chuckles, and the sound goes straight to your cunt. “I plan to last as long as you’ll let me.”

Your stomach drops next. “Uh…okay. Great. Then…5?”

“Five,” he repeats, and you’re thrilled. Nervous. Thrilled. “We can talk more about what we want when we get there, yeah?”

You nod. “Sure. That’s…good. That’s good.”

He smiles, and just like that…the date is set.

4:58 comes and you’re a nervous wreck. He’s already here—you’ve just buzzed him in—and now he’s walking up your steps. And you are standing in your kitchen, pacing, tugging on your robe, and trying not to sweat. Again.

When you let him in, he’s…breathtaking. Somehow, in the few short hours since you last saw him, he got exponentially hotter. 

His hair is dry, and his curls are styled in a way that makes you want to run your hands through them. He’s wearing a shirt, but it’s oversized and soft. Easy to slip out of. His jeans are ripped but they hug his hips perfectly.

He’s…sex. He’s beautiful. He’s stunning, and you are so incredibly nervous, you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Hi,” he smiles as he slips off his shoes and shuts your door. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No, you’re not,” you argue quickly. “You’re perfect. You’re—fuck. No, you’re…this is good.”

He laughs and lets his eyes trail down your covering. “Are you…did I interrupt something, or—”

“No. No, sorry. I, uh…I figured this would be easier,” you explain, now absentmindedly playing with the tie. “You know, I could just slip this off, and we could go.”

He hums, but you can tell he’s biting his tongue. “I see. And…is that how you’d like to proceed? You just want to rip the band-aid?”

“Um…” Shit, do you? “I don’t…know. I was kind of hoping you could tell me.”

He nods now and asks for your hand. You give it to him—rather shyly—before allowing him to lead you toward your sofa. He sits you both down and brings your attention to him.

“I will do whatever you want me to do,” he begins. “But…I’d like to know what you really want. What you fantasize about, what makes you feel good. When you’re with someone, or when you picture being with someone, what are they doing? What are you doing?”

You feel your face grow warm. You can’t believe you’re having this conversation with him, and yet…he feels so safe. You trust him. You don’t mind admitting some of your weirder preferences. After all, Rebecca has told you before about what he’s like in bed. He’s…good. Very good. And into some weirder things, too. 

And maybe now you understand why she was so happy for you to ask him.

“I…I guess I like…to be taken care of,” you admit quietly, instantly glancing down at your lap to avoid his reaction.

But just as quickly, he’s slipping a finger under your chin and bringing your eyes back to his. “Yeah, Kitten?”

Your stomach wrenches. You nod.

“Tell me more,” he encourages gently. 

You fumble with your robe again. “Uh…I don’t really like…to make decisions. A lot of times. I…I feel better if I’m being told what to do.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Okay. I can do that. What else, baby?”

Baby. You think you might die. “Um…I think I like it rough. Or…rougher. Like…spanking, and…hair pulling, and choking…and stuff.”

He’s so entertained by your timid demeanor, and he chuckles again as he squeezes your jaw. “Is that right? D’you want me to spank you, Kitten?”

You really might die. “I…yes? I think so?”

“I need you to do more than think,” he says now, a bit firmer. “When I ask, I expect a clear answer. Is that understood?”

You nod, and you don’t even realize.

“So do you want me to spank you?”

“…yes. I do.”

“Good girl.” He brushes his thumb along your lips, and your mouth parts for him. “What else? What kind of positions do you like? Do you have any particular porn you like to watch?”

You look back down at your lap, and he smirks. “I…I don’t really watch it as much as…I read it.”

“Oh?” He dips down, looking for your attention. “You like to read it, baby? What do you like to read?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Just…just smut.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

And you’re so embarrassed, yet somehow so enamored, and you tell him before you can stop yourself. “Just…sometimes it’s rough. And…taboo. And…dangerous, I guess.”

He hums again, considering this. “Like to be naughty when you’re alone, don’t you?”

And you feel like you’re on fire, burying your face in your hands with a soft groan until he immediately tugs them back down. 

“Uh-uh,” he warns, and goosebumps dance down your skin from where he’s touching you. “What did I say, hm? None of that. Come on.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I just…I’m so nervous.”

Another soft smile as he cups your cheek and scoots closer. He’s everywhere. You can smell him, you can feel him. You can practically taste him and it leaves you with this insatiable need for more.

“I know,” he says calmly. “But it’s just me, yeah? You’ve known me forever. You know I’d never want to hurt you or scare you or embarrass you. And I’d never judge you.”

“I know,” you echo. “This is just all so…real.”

He hums and seems to consider something. Then, he nods his chin at you. “I wanna try something. Would that be all right?”

You swallow. “Okay.”

“Close your eyes.”

Your lashes flutter. “What?”

“Close your eyes. Just for a minute.”

So, you do. And the living room falls eerily quiet as you wait for whatever instruction might come next. 

But it never comes. He has no instruction. He’s quiet.

And then…

He’s kissing you.

Soft lips ghost across your own. They tease and they taunt. You can’t see him, but you can feel him—can taste him. He’s kissing you, and he’s taking your mouth against his, and he’s so…he’s so.

And not being able to see him does wonders. Because you lose all inhibitions and simply take. You accept what he’s offering and you delight in doing so.

He was right.

You grow hungrier—needier. You let your hands find his shoulders and hoist yourself up onto your knees. In turn, he takes hold of your hips to keep you steady and helps bring you onto his lap. It’s like you’re one. Like you’ve rehearsed this, done it a million times. A fluid, lustful, heavy dance that ends with pants and whispers of each other’s names.

And you forget how strange this might be. You forget your hesitations and your concerns. You allow yourself to have him and to enjoy it.

And it’s perfect.

When you finally open your eyes, you feel much braver. Ready to do what he came here to do.

His cheeks are flushed. His lips are pink and slightly swollen. His pupils are dilated and he’s wearing the softest grin—like a warm sweater. 

“Please?” you whisper, and his Adam’s apple bobs.

“Where?” he asks.

“Bedroom.” It might sound like a demand, but you’ve never felt so submissive. “Please, Harry—”

He picks you up. Carries you down the hall and toward your bed. He’s been here before, seen it a hundred times when he and Rebecca would come over for movie nights or dinners. 

But it’s different now and you both know it. He treats your space with reverence. Treats you with reverence. Awe. You are…everything to him in this moment. He makes you the center of his world, the focus of his attention.

And you have to remind yourself not to fall in love with him.

He drops you onto the mattress with care but just a bit of roughness. Exactly the way you like.

He follows after you. Slots his body between your thighs and brings his lips back to yours. You kiss until you feel dizzy. It’s quick and eager and tantalizing. He moves to your neck while your fingers move for his shirt.  He nips at your throat and you fumble with the hem. And he only stops kissing you so you can slip the shirt over his head and toss it toward the floor.

You’ve seen his body before—saw it just today. But now it’s here, in your hands, in your bed, in your room. And it’s glorious. Tan, strong, firm. Covered in tattoos that make you want to drool and rippling with muscles you didn’t even know someone could have.

You want to gaze but he’s already back on your neck, sucking bruises below your ear. And then…his hand is on your thigh.

You’re tempted to freeze—to be reminded of how odd the situation—but you don’t allow yourself to succumb to the overthinking.  You enjoy the feeling of his fingers moving up toward your robe. You enjoy the way they play with the tie as if teasing you. And you enjoy the warmth of his palm as he whispers, “May I?”

You nod until you get a headache. Practically flinging the robe open for him. 

He’s gentle as he pulls it undone. Considerate as he pushes it back and reveals your naked body to him. 

And there you are. Bare before your best friend’s boyfriend and it’s…

It’s…

Not nearly as strange as it should be.

His expression softens like your nakedness hurts him. In the best way. He groans and he stares and he parts his lips as if dying to take you in his mouth.

And who are you to deny him?

You nod again, allowing him to do whatever he might like, and he’s grateful. So very grateful for you as he guides the robe away from your body, disposes of it, and dives in.

He kisses from your shoulder to your chest. From your chest to your tits. To the valley between and down your stomach. He is practiced, he is patient, he is beautiful. And he feels like heaven.

“Harry,” you nearly whimper, eyes falling shut as you settle back onto the bed.

He squeezes your hips so you know he heard you. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. Just lay still for me, Kitten, okay?”

He’s telling you what to do. You listen. 

He pulls your legs apart and scoots back. He wants to taste you. You can see that he wants nothing more. But he stops to look up at you. Wanting permission. Wanting to hear you say that he’s allowed and that you want it, too.

“Yes,” you manage to choke out. “Yes, go. It’s fine.”

He rubs his thumbs along your skin to soothe you. “Can you do something for me, baby?”

Anything, anything, anything.

“Want you to grab my hair,” he tells you. “Want you to pull it, yank it, whatever. Want you to show me what feels good. Yeah?”

“Okay,” you agree breathily. “Promise.”

He grins and it’s all teeth. He returns his kisses to you. He starts at your bent knee. He goes down your inner thigh. He travels across your hip.

And finally…finally.

He’s gentle with your clit at first. A few kisses, just to prepare you. Getting a feel for your body, letting you get a feel for his mouth. For his face between your legs.

You bring a shaky hand to his hair and card your fingers through, fulfilling your vow. His hair feels good against your palm. Like butter. You gather him in your fist and tug.

His lashes flutter in response. He hums again—louder. You can feel it against your pussy and it makes your toes curl.

His hands keep you from bucking up, but he seems pleased when you try. He likes that you feel good. He likes that he gets to use his power to keep you still. 

“Har…Harry,” you whimper, and he groans again. He likes the sound of his name in your mouth. “Shit—”

He slaps your hip. A warning. “Good girls don’t use bad language. Do they?”

No. You shake your head. Your heart is racing. “Please…”

He’s happy again. Moving his mouth down your cunt until he can taste the beginnings of your arousal beginning to gather. “You’re so good for me, Kitten. You know that? Being so well behaved.”

You love his praise. You always have. Winning his approval means the world, and now, in this moment, it means that much more. You want to make him happy. To please him. To do what he wants. 

You yank on his curls and he seems to melt between your thighs. He moves back to your clit and sucks. Flicks you with his tongue and basks in the sound of your whiny cries. 

“There you go,” he says, and it’s more to himself. “I’ve got you.”

You’re shaking. Overcome by this feeling and by the impending release. It’s really going to happen. Harry is going to make you cum, and you never thought you’d see the day.

He knows you’re close. Knows you can’t fight it and he doesn’t want you to. He steadies his technique. Goes harder, faster. Gives you everything you’re asking for. You are puddy in his hands. Clay for him to mold. You are whatever he wants you to be in this moment and you’re more than all right with that.

He brings a finger to your hole and gently slips it inside. The fullness of such a large digit makes your brain turn to mush and you whimper again as you yank on his hair. He’s pleased.

“That’s what you needed, hm?” He sinks to the knuckle and starts to pump. “Just needed my fingers, yeah?”

“Yes…yes.” He’s so good. So very good.

“I know,” he hums, and it’s almost condescending. He feels bad that you’re so easy. “Take whatever I’ll give you, won’t you?”

You will. He knows it. You know it. If all he did was look at you, you’d feel grateful to be under the warmth of his gaze.

“Tell me, Kitten,” he continues, dragging his tongue up the length of your cunt. From his finger to your clit. “Do the boys in your books do it like this?”

You don’t want to think about your books at a time like this. Not when you have him. Real and here. In your bed. Your clit in his mouth.

“Do they?” he pushes and adds a second finger. How does he expect you to speak? “Hm? Is this what you dream about? When you fuck yourself in this bed? You dream about someone tasting you? Burying their face in your sweet pussy?”

You whimper. You writhe. You cling to his curls and try not to disappear.

“Speak,” he murmurs, and slaps your inner thigh.

You whine again and pant, “Yes.”

“Yes, Sir,” he corrects you, and lifts his head. He’s glistening in you. He’s beautiful. “M’not your friend here, Kitten. I’m the one making you cum. You will remember that.”

And you will. Because he is better than your books. He is considerate, and he is good, and he is making you cum before you can stop yourself. 

Your back arches from the bed. Your chest caves in on itself. Your legs squeeze the sides of his head and he fucking loves it.

He releases your hips so he can grab onto your thighs and press them hard to his cheeks. He wants to suffocate in you. You want to let him.

“Harry—” you gasp. He slaps your leg. “Sir…I…”

You can’t say anything else. He knows. It’s okay. He rides you through. Takes every drop on his tongue. Swallows you down. Feeds on you. Indulges in you. 

Today you are his.

And still, he’s not through. He begins again. He knows you’re sensitive and he knows it won’t be long before you give him another.

He adds a third finger and begins to thrust inside your quivering cunt. He says, “How many times do they make their girls cum?”

You glance down. “What?”

“Your books. Your fantasies. Your dirty smut that gets you off. How many times do they make the girl cum?”

You think. You can’t think. “I…I don’t know—”

“You do,” he argues and nips at your pussy. “Because I bet you wish it was more. I bet you make yourself cum for every time they do. I bet you fuck yourself while you read and pretend that it’s you.”

He’s right. You hate that he’s right. You hate that it’s so obvious.

“How many?” he repeats. “Once? Twice? Do they give up after that? Are they as good as you want them to be?”

You can’t hear him through the pounding in your ear. The second one is close. You’re shaking, trembling, dying. It’s already unraveling. You’re too far gone.

He pumps you through your second and carries right on to your third. “Shame you never called me. Shame you never read your little books and thought to ask me for help. Should’ve known I would have.”

Your cheeks are growing warm again. You’re embarrassed and sensitive to the touch. 

He notices. “You thought about it, didn’t you?” he realizes aloud, and he sounds almost proud. “Thought about me when you touched yourself.”

You shake your head but it’s a lie. You both know it.

“You did,” he repeats, and he’s smirking. “Did you picture me when you read? Picture me in your dirty little taboo fantasy? D’you picture my cock? My hands? My mouth?”

You did, and you’re embarrassed, and he loves it.

“Did I make you cum?” he whispers, and slips a fourth finger inside. “Hm? Did I have you coming all over your pretty hand? All over your sheets? Or did you use a toy, baby?”

You squirm. You try to fight him, try to fight this orgasm, try to fight what he’s making you remember. But it’s useless. 

“How many times did I make you cum?” he nearly purrs, and it’s over. It’s all over. You are powerless to him, and you embrace it. “How many times did you cum for me while you were reading your naughty little books—”

You don’t hear the rest. You’re unraveling for the third time before he can find his answer. But that’s more than all right because this was the answer he really wanted, anyway. 

He strokes your skin as you come down. Then, he pulls his fingers out, takes them in his mouth, and swallows you. Waiting until you’ve caught your breath before he’s crawling back up your body and slipping his tongue against yours.

He kisses you, and you taste everything. Him, you, and five years of memories shared between you. Rebecca slowly starts to dissolve from the picture and now it’s just the two of you. In every flashback, every moment. Maybe it was always him and you.

You reach for his belt. You want his jeans off. You want your hands around his cock. You want to hold him, ride him, gag on him. You’re impatient and he’s amused and it feels as though time is moving far too slow.

“Easy,” he tuts, but he kisses you again. “M’gonna give you my cock, Kitten, just have to wait for me, yeah?”

You pout. He kisses it away. “Can’t wait, Sir. Need it.”

Sir makes him grin, and this seems to work in your favor. “You can’t, hm? Well, what if I wanna take my time?”

You groan and you whimper and you fling your arms around his neck to pull him close and plead with him. “Please,” you whisper, kissing along his neck, and his skin tastes divine. “Please fuck me, Sir. I need it. Might die.”

He chuckles, and the vibration of his chest makes your insides twitch. “I bet. S’been a long time, hasn’t it?”

Three years, and while you know sex isn’t necessary to survive…now that you’re here…you feel rather insatiable. 

Because it’s not the fact that you haven’t had sex in three years that’s making you anxious. It’s the fact that you haven’t had sex with him. And you need to. You need him to scratch this itch that only he can scratch. And you need him to do it now.

“Are you gonna let me take care of you?” he asks, and you want to cry. He’s so good. “Can I do that, Kitten? Can I make it better?”

You nod, and you’re dizzy, and you’re dripping onto your sheets below. You feel so empty without him.

He laughs again and it’s heaven. “Good girl. Take off my jeans, okay?”

You do, and you do it well. They’re off in under thirty-five seconds and on the floor, next to your robe and his shirt. Your clothes look good together. It makes you smile.

He nods at his boxers, the only thing left between you. “Take ‘em off.”

You do. You roll the dark band down his gorgeously strong thighs and help him slip out of them before they’re joining the collection on the ground.

He’s got a large tattoo on his left leg that’s just begging to be licked and muscles in his calves that make your pussy clench.  

You stare at him and you probably drool and he’s laughing again.

He slips his finger under your chin once more and lifts your head until your eyes meet. He is a meadow. Gentle and calm. “Do you want a taste, Kitten?”

More nodding, more drooling. He kneels and you scoot closer, grasping onto his thighs to brace yourself as you stare at him.

He’s hard, and big, and leaking in a way that makes your throat go dry. He is better than you wanted him to be and he is better than the books and he is real. 

You dip down and you allow your lips to graze his tip. He smiles and puts a hand on your head to guide you. Comfort you. Control you in just the right way.

You extend your tongue and drag it up the side. He tastes good. More so than you expected. It’s like candy, and you lick and lick until you needily begin to take him into your mouth. 

He squeezes your scalp lightly. Easy. You’re going fast and he wants to go slow. He wants you to enjoy yourself. 

But you are. How could you not? He’s heavy in your mouth and you never thought you’d enjoy sucking someone’s cock as much as you do his. Maybe it’s true what they say. Maybe you really do get pleasure out of pleasing him.

You take more. As much as you can bear. Your eyes flutter shut. You’re tempted to gag but you don’t, not yet. You don’t want him to think you can’t take him. You want to be good. As good as he was for you.

He slips his fingers into your roots and tugs. “Baby,” he warns softly. “Don’t push yourself—”

You keep going. You groan around him and he curses at the feel of your throat. You go further. Until your eyes are screwing shut and your breathing becomes labored.

Suddenly, he’s yanking on you. Pulling you off as a string of saliva drips from his cock to your mouth.

“Hey,” he grunts, and he looks at you. You want to shrink. “I told you to go easy, yeah? You have nothing to prove to me, Kitten. This is not about doing something you think I need you to do. I want you to do it because you want to do it. It’s not a competition. I’m not gonna be disappointed if you can’t take much of me.”

You frown. “I know, but…I want to. I really do want to. I just…you’re big, Ha—Sir. You’re so big.”

You’re feeding his ego (but you’re also telling the truth) and he exhales a soft laugh. “I know,” he repeats. “But forcing yourself will only hurt. Besides, this is about you, yeah?”

Your expression falls. Another reminder that he’s only here as a service. To get you off and then get out. He won’t be spending the night, and he won’t be calling you tomorrow to set up the next time, and he won’t be promising that he’ll train your throat open to take his cock. 

You nod. You concede. Bring your hands to your lap and pull yourself away.

Now he’s frowning. He smooths his palm down the back of your neck and tugs you to him. He looks at you and he’s looking for what you’re really thinking. Something shifted. He wants to know what. Why.

“This is about you,” he says again, and you wish he’d stop. “Believe me, I’d be happy to have you gag on me, but that’s not what we’re doing tonight, okay? Not tonight.”

And it’s not a promise of next time. You know that. But not tonight implies something more open-ended than before and you finally smile. “Okay.”

He sweeps his thumb along your throat. “Can I fuck you now, baby?”

“God, yes,” you breathe, and nearly drag him on top of you. 

He smiles again and you feel whole. The dance continues. He kisses you and situates himself between your thighs, and you are so very ready. 

“Shit, wait, hold on,” he says, and you almost burst into tears. “I need to grab the condoms—”

“No,” you nearly shout, and his brow raises. “No, I…we’re both clean. And I’m on the pill. Why…why don’t we just…not? Maybe?”

It’s selfish, you know it’s selfish. But you want to feel him. You don’t want something keeping him from you and you want to know that he actually fucked you. 

You like condoms. You prefer condoms. But not now. Not with him. You have to know he really did this. You need to feel him in your pussy for years to come.

He looks at you. “You’re on the pill?” He doesn’t answer your question.

“Yeah. I take ‘em for cramps and regulation and stuff.” You wince. Talking about cramps is not sexy. “The point is…if you want…I mean, I want, but if you want…?”

He thinks about this. Brushes your hip with his thumb. Thinks. “I don’t mind, but only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” you exhale. “God, I’m sure. Honestly. As long as you are. And…and Rebecca. I don’t know if you guys have a rule…or anything.”

You wince again. You don’t want to bring up Rebecca, either. But you know you have to. You know she’s your friend, and she’s Harry’s partner, and this has to be asked. It has to be considered.

So, he considers it. “Most of the time we have a rule, yeah. For safety and peace of mind. But that’s when it’s other people. She doesn’t mind if we do or don’t. She said it’s up to me.”

“You talked about it?” 

“Yeah.” Of course they did. Honesty. “When I was grabbing the condoms. I asked if you had a preference, she said she didn’t think so. Said we could just go without if we wanted. As long as I got tested after.”

“Right.” You almost feel weird knowing they talked about you. But what did you expect? “And…do you want to?”

Another beat. He looks at you. Really looks at you. “I want to fuck you. I want to feel you. I think we’ve taken all of the right steps and I feel comfortable going without. As long as you do.”

“I do,” you assure him again. “I really, really do.”

He smiles. “Good.” He drags his tip down your cunt, gathering your arousal. “Then I wanna start like this. Wanna see your face. Make sure you’re doing all right.”

You nod quickly.

 “And I wanna see you when you cum on my cock for the first time,” he whispers huskily before steadying himself above you.

You are giddy. He is everything. He is so much better than your books and he is lining himself up with you and he is big, and ready, and beautiful.

He kisses you again. “Deep breath, okay? Try to relax. Don’t want to hurt you.”

You do breathe. You do try to relax. You let your mind wander to a world where he does this to you every night. Where your pussy happily accepts him and knows him and molds to him.

He pushes in. You reel.

Still, he is good, and gentle, and kind. He kisses you more. He distracts you, even though he doesn’t need to. You pretend that he’s imagining a world with you, too.

He sinks in further, and life is perfect. Your nails claw at his back—at the many muscles that tense beneath your touch. Your leg hooks to his hip, your heel against his ass. You draw him in. You plead with him for more. You say his name, you moan, you shiver.

“Shh,” he coos, and he wraps his hand around your throat. He remembers what you like, and he squeezes gently. “Let me do this, don’t rush me.”

You whimper, “Sir,” and he kisses you again. You are addicted to his tongue.

He finally buries himself all the way, hips against yours, chests flush together. He’s heavy and he’s warm. Like a weighted blanket and you feel so safe. You’ve missed the feeling of another body on top of you. Of that connection and intimacy. That protection. It’s even better when it’s him.

You cling to him and ask every star in the sky not to take him from you. “Please move, Sir.”

He draws back. He begins to fuck you, and he’s so big. He stretches you, claims you. Owns you, truly. He sucks your tit into his mouth and you melt between his lips. He nips, and pulls, and groans. And you hate everyone he’s ever been with before. You wish you were his only. 

He starts going faster. But not too fast. He wants to make you anxious for it. He wants you to beg. Wants you to unravel yourself from need alone. And you’re so close to doing just that.

“Good girl,” he praises, and your heart cracks down the middle. “Taking me so well. Is this what you needed, Kitten? Needed someone to fuck this tight little pussy until you felt better?”

You nod and you whimper again. He’s fucking you back to life. What happens when he leaves?

You shake the thought free and focus on now. His body feels good against yours. His teeth are perfect on your throat. His curls are soft and his skin is tan and his cock is fucking magic.

He’s relentless. Thick. Splitting you open and drawing you in. Your tits bounce from the thrusts and your back arches from the bed and his face is delicious. 

He’s watching you closely, just like he said. He’s studying your reactions, your noises, your gasps for air and mercy. He wants to know he’s giving you what you wanted. He wants to know he’s doing it right.

And of course he is. He has to know that. He has to assume he’s better than the average man. You wonder if he learned this from Rebecca or someone else. You wonder what would happen if you were his. Could you be okay with him sleeping with other people? Could you accept that he still wants you? 

You close your eyes and scrunch your nose. You’re doing it again. You’re letting yourself imagine a world you can’t have. You aren’t being present; you aren’t enjoying what you’re being given now. 

Suddenly, his hand is back on your throat. He’s squeezing, but pointedly. Asking for your attention.

“Hey,” he murmurs, just as stern as before. You look up. “What is this? What is this face for, what’s wrong?”

You blink and then realize your expression is still bunched. You relax. “Nothing, sorry.”

“Hey.” Firm. Unrelenting. He stops thrusting and you want to die.  “Baby, you can’t do that. I told you I need communication, I need honesty. If I’m hurting you, you have to tell me—”

“No,” you insist quickly. You take hold of his shoulders and then his hips as though to get him to continue. “No, that’s not it. I promise. Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t move. “Then what was the face for? What’s wrong?”

You huff. Sigh. Squeeze his waist. “Nothing, I promise. I was just…thinking about something I shouldn’t. And I wanted to stop.”

“Stop fucking? Or stop thinking?”

“Thinking. I wanted to be here. With you.”

He relaxes now and you feel his cock twitch. “Kitten, I want you here with me, too. If you’re not, we can stop for a while—”

“No,” you groan. You feel like a child about to throw a temper tantrum. “No, I swear. I am here. I am. And if you stop, then I won’t be, and it might kill me.”

He sighs now. It’s heavy. “Nobody else exists outside of this room except you and me, yeah? Just us.”

You melt. “Yeah…”

He kisses you. “I want you here with me, baby,” he exhales, and it’s like he’s breathing the sentiment into your lungs. “I need you here. With me. On my cock. Don’t want you to think about anybody else. It’s just us.”

You nod again, and you claw at him, and you beg him to keep going. He does. It fixes everything.

When your fourth hits you, you see the stars. Even if they aren’t in your favor, they are bright, and warm, and they carry you through to the other side.

And once you’ve caught your breath, Harry pulls out. 

You’re tempted to wither, to cry, to beg him to stay but he’s already flipping you around onto your stomach and driving himself back in.

Now you understand. And you’re ecstatic. He’s rough. Pulling your hair, forcing your cheek to the bed, slapping his palm against your ass.

“Give me another,” he demands, and he sounds angry, but he’s not. He’s ready. “Just like you would for your little book boys. You fucking cum for me, right now. Let me feel you. Let me cum with you.”

He slams into you and it’s so full. You could cum for a lifetime and still never feel finished.

He spanks you again. Grips your hair. Forces your nose into the duvet until it’s hard to breathe. It’s rough. Deep. And still…he’s caring for you. You know he’s making sure he isn’t pushing too far. Just enough. You love it.

“What a sweet little pussy,” he seethes, but it’s thick with lust. “Can’t believe you’ve fucking kept this from me for five years. All this time and you were right here.”

You’re glad he can’t see you now. He might be afraid of how happy that sentence makes you.

“S’all I’m gonna think about,” he says. “Tasting you. Fucking you. Feeling you. Gonna dream of this pretty pussy every goddamn night.”

You moan. You hope he does. Hope he dreams of it when he’s lying next to her. 

No. You scrunch your nose. You reject it. You ignore it.

He spanks you. Kneads your ass in his hand, then spanks you again. “Gotta promise me something, Kitten. Yeah? Gotta promise me that you’re gonna think of me, too.”

And you are. Of course you are. You always do. “Yes…yes, Sir. I promise.”

Another slap and squeeze to your scalp. “Good fucking girl. Now cum. Fucking cum for me, baby.”

You want to. But not before he does. You need to feel him, too, and you hold off as best you can until you feel him twitch.

“Kitten,” he says, and you’re ready. “Want you to make me another promise, yeah? Want you to take my cum…and keep it. Keep it in your little pussy, even after I leave. Okay?”

You nod quickly. You will. Of course you will. God, how could he think you wouldn’t?

Your promise tips him over, and he cums, and he’s loud, and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

You wish you could see him. It’s so cruel that you can’t, and you try to glance back to catch even a glimpse. You see his brows scrunch together, see his mouth drop open, see his cheeks flush from the force.

And seeing him tips you over. You cum together, a mess of moans, and pants, and nicknames. Sweaty bodies connecting as he collapses on top of you, further burying you into the mattress. And it’s so hot and you can’t breathe, but you have never felt more alive. This moment is infinite. He is infinite, and you are infinite with him.

“Shit,” he says, and you have to agree. “You’re so good, baby. So fucking good. Can’t believe you’ve kept that from me.”

It’s the second time he’s said it. You wonder if he realizes. “I didn’t do anything, this was all you.”

He snorts. “Kitten, I had nothing to do with how fucking good that was. Believe me. You…are fucking perfect. Every cute little flutter of your cunt. Your tits. Those big eyes…”

The room falls silent. You imagine he wants to turn you around and see you, but he doesn’t. He’s keeping himself inside you for as long as he can. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, and the sentiment doesn’t feel strong enough. “For…for doing that, I mean. And…for not making it weird. I know I was probably kind of…rusty and nervous, and I just—”

“No.” He shakes his head. Squeezes your hip. Kisses your bare back until you fall silent. “You are perfect. Okay? That was perfect. I really, really enjoyed it.”

You smile. You are happy and miserable all in the same moment. “Me, too.”

You want to ask if you’ll be doing it again. You want to pretend that he’s not gonna leave you and go back to her. That he’s not Rebecca’s Harry or Just Harry.

That he’s Your Harry.

But all good things must come to an end. He will leave. And you will let him.

“Now what?” you dare to ask.

A small beat. “We don’t have to talk about it after I leave…if that’s what you still want,” he says next, and your chest feels heavy. “I just want to make sure you’re all right before I do. That you pee, and you drink your water, and you take it easy. I know I went kind of hard on you.”

“But it was good,” you tell him, and you grin at the memory. It feels so far away. “Really good. Everything I wanted.”

“Yeah?” He kisses you more. The space between your shoulders. Your neck. Your cheek. “Any notes?”

You laugh. “No notes. God, no. You’re like a sex god.”

“Better than your books?”

“So much fucking better.”

“Hm.” More kisses. “Don’t tell me that. I’ll get a big head.”

“You already have one,” you attempt to tease, and he laughs, too. “Both of them.”

The room fills with giggles until you both fall silent again. He doesn’t leave. You don’t make him.

“Do we…tell Rebecca?” you ask. “Like…the details and things?”

“Only if you want to.” He stops kissing you now but rests his cheek on your head. “She doesn’t expect us to, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You nod. You like Rebecca. You can’t imagine you’d be so relaxed if you were in her position. “And this…works for you guys? The open relationship?”

“Yeah.” He smiles. Nods. “We have a lot of love and trust and I think that’s why. It’s what we both want.”

You resist the urge to scrunch your nose. You’re happy for him. For both of them, you are. This really is what’s best and you’re so glad they have each other. And you’re glad that they’re both willing to explore it with you and still keep you in their lives.

“Is it just sex?” you ask next, despite your better judgment. “Or…like, what if you wanted to date someone else? Or is that not what it means?”

“We can date around if we want. We haven’t in a while, just because we can’t seem to find people we like enough to keep around.” He smirks. “But we could. It’s not as rigid as it sounds.”

He finally pulls out and you want to cry. You feel cold and empty.

However, he’s quick to scoop the dribbling cum from your pussy and push it back in. Just for a little while longer. 

You close your legs and smile. “I don’t think it’s rigid as long as it’s what you want.”

He smiles back. “It is.”

You shift now. You feel nervous again. “So…then, I guess by the rules and things…it wouldn’t be…totally weird to see if you wanted to do it again? Not that we have to—we could, I mean. Or not, if you don’t want. Or maybe I should ask her. Or you can. Or…actually, it’s dumb, never mind. I don’t know why I thought—”

He grabs your chin. Presses his thumb to your lips to quiet you. “Kitten, breathe.”

You do.

“We can do it again,” he says, and you have never felt so happy. You feel as though you were just set on fire. Your skin is tingling, and your insides are twisting, and your pussy is clenching. “We don’t have to ask permission. We’re adults. We can do whatever we’d like. That’s the point of an open relationship.”

You nod. You want to kiss him. “Okay. Are you…I mean, do you want to? We don’t have to just because I do, honestly. I just…we both liked it, so I thought maybe we’d want to. Unless it wasn’t really that good for you, which I would understand—”

“Kitten.”

You stop. You breathe.

He chuckles. “I would love to fuck you again. And again. And again. As many times as you’ll let me.”

You’re practically shaking. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He grins. He can tell how giddy you are. “What are you doing next Friday?”

“I am doing whatever you want me to.”

The expression that splits his face is like sunshine. He loves this answer, and he loves your pussy, and perhaps one day…he’ll love you, too.

“Good fucking girl,” he breathes, and surges forward to kiss you.

And maybe…this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Next Part:

~ Insatiable You*

~ Full Infinite You Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs

[loudclan-clangen]

Loudclan - Moon 29: Part 3

Things are gonna get a bit darker than they have been in the second half of this moon. Be warned and check the tags! Happy Spooky Season!

The sun is ever-present in the summer sky. It sits vigil alongside the clan. Soon after the bodies arrive at camp a patrol sets out to track the rogues, but finding that they have already crossed Shadedclan's territory, it is decided that the opportunity for revenge has passed. They'll double patrols and wait to see if the murders try to cross the territory on their way home. Many are upset, but few argue. As the sky begins to lose it's duskiness, the vigil is ended, the bodies buried, and the clan cats left to filter back into camp at their own pace. Wildfirecry excuses himself to clear his head, while Dancepaw attempts to bridge the gap with the only brother he has left.

Seeing Rosehiptree will be left alone in the burial place, Songpaw decides to stay for a while.

It takes Wildfirecry three days to find the farm cats.

There are Forestclan traditions that were never passed on to Loudclan. Rites that were deemed too dark to touch the newborn clan and thus were cast aside. But here, miles past the valley territories, they live on.

Wildfirecry returns to Loudclan's camp a week after the vigil having lost two lives. No one questions where he has been. The scent of rancid dried blood still lingers despite a fresh coat of oil, and his wounds, while closed, are unmistakably fresh. The clan returns to an uneasy normalcy.

[Whoo! I did it! This moon was INCREDIBLY hard for me. The first part relies so much on my dialogue skills, which, is the part of comic-making that comes least easily to me, and the second part is super experimental, which was so much fun, but also mentally tiring. (On that note please let me know if it's like impossible to see. I meant for it to be a bit difficult to make out, but it's hard to gage between my ipad and my laptop whether it will be readable for all of you. I can fiddle with the color grading tomorrow if necessary.) And finally, Rosehip's experience here is really, really close to my heart. That means that her scenes here are ones that I really wanted to write, but also that I had to take a couple of breaks to make sure that I wasn't wearing myself down too much, so sorry that it took longer than I thought and I haven't been able to answer as many asks as I had hoped to. Anyway, despite early difficulty I had a GREAT time finishing this moon up and I'm happy with how it turned out! Songpaw and Rosehiptree are keeping the trauma dump to best friends pipeline alive and I love them for it. Erminekit is kinda being a brat but he really just wants to be there for his best friend and everyone is getting in the way! He doesn't really get the concept of "giving someone space". As far as Moon 30 I have a science class that I'd like to get finished by the end of the month, so it will probably be a minute. Hope you guys enjoy!]

First Moon

Next Moon

[luveline]

If you're taking request for Spencer and Bombshell!reader I think it would be so incredibly adorable if they were both on the way to a case (or coming back) and their little baby Amanda was face timing them to say hi to them and the team 🥺🥺

“Video call for you, momma,” Penelope says, plonking a laptop down onto the desk in front of you, and then quickly being called away by Emily for help.

You ditch your pen immediately, nail scratching the laptop trackpad as you slide the cursor to ACCEPT. 

Amanda’s face fills the screen, a shy smile like her dad’s close to the camera, her eyes almost cut off by the top of the screen. 

“Amy, babe, you’re too close to the computer! I can’t see your lovely face.” 

Amy sits back in her chair. “Is this okay?” 

You take her in. You trust your babysitter to take good care of her, but nothing is as reassuring as seeing her unhurt and smiling. “Hi, baby.” 

“Hi mommy,” she greets. “Where’s daddy?” 

“He’s in the bathroom. Be back any minute. Are you being a good girl for Mrs. Gamorrah? How’s your tummy?” 

“I’m being good,” she says, ignoring the important question, “did you see my t-shirt?” She brings her shirt closer to the camera. She’s wearing her favourite pyjamas with the butterflies she had for her birthday, “Look, Mrs. Gamorrah got the soup stain gone.” 

You beam at her. You miss her like crazy when you’re not there. You and Spencer take turns staying home most of the time, and so being apart from her and knowing she doesn’t have Spencer to soften your absence makes it easier to worry about her, and harder to concentrate on the work. 

The door opens. You twist your head. 

Spencer’s drying his hands on a paper towel. “Is that Amy?” 

“Quick, she wants to see you.” 

Spencer hurries to the laptop, bending at the waist to see the screen and his impatient daughter. 

“Amy!” he says, like she’s the only person he’s ever wanted to see, voice enthused with his most dad-appropriate saccharine. “Hi, bunny, hi, hello. I miss you so much, are you okay? I miss you.” 

You tap his leg gently. Calm down. 

“Daddy, I am so happy, and I miss you too! We’re doing pictures.” She holds up a sheet of paper covered in crayon drawings. “Are you okay too?” 

“I’m great now I’m seeing you. I really miss you, sweetheart, I’m sorry we’re both away at work.” 

“It’s okay. Me and Mrs. Gamorrah are gonna have pizza and jiffy pop and soda tonight. It would be good with you, but it’s still fun.” 

“That’s good,” you say, putting your hand on the keys, wishing you could feel her soft arm in your hand, stroke her silken forehead. “We’re gonna be home soon. Maybe even tomorrow.” 

Spencer wraps his arm behind your shoulder. “Me and mom miss you so so much, and we’re so proud of you being a good girl at home. We’re gonna bring you a big present for being by yourself.” 

“I’m not by myself, dad, I have Mrs. Gamorrah. Plus, Uncle Morgan said he wants to take me and Hank swimming on Sunday.” 

“I’m sure we’ll be home before Sunday.” You smother your frown. Spencer kisses your cheek. 

“Give one for me, dad!” 

Spencer kisses you again. “That one good enough?” he asks. 

“Another one!” 

When you get home, you’re gonna spoil the death out of her. Like, worse than you’ve ever spoiled her before. Spencer presses another great kiss to your cheek and smushes your faces together, Amy on the screen reaching for you both for a ghost hug. “I wanted to say hi before we go to the store. Can I call you again before bed?” 

“Yeah, baby, call again!” You rush to answer. “Call daddy’s phone, okay? Mine’s not working right. I’ll answer you, we’ll talk all about your day. Okay? I miss you very much.” 

“I miss you too. Bye bye.” 

“Okay, bye bye,” you say, “I love you.” 

“Love you, Amanda,” Spencer says. 

She waves her little hand until it looks like it might fall off of her wrist. Spencer waves back just as hard.

[salemlunaa]

🎀 NEW IDEA: ASK CHAT GPT 🎀

ꨄ Use AI to your advantage when it comes to manifesting and shifting…

Although AI can get a little weird and scary sometimes, it’s actually such a great way to get information, motivation and inspiration all in one

Instead of hounding bloggers for the same thing all the time. Go to Chat GPT.

Now, how about i give you a few examples, let’s imagine someone called maya 𖨆

maya is having trouble because she feels like when she tries to induce the void, she always falls asleep and that’s taken away so many years from her dream life

she asks Chat GPT: “I keep falling asleep every time I try to induce the void, I feel so frustrated all the time and I need some help”

Chat GPT answers: “Hi Maya, falling asleep during void practice is common, so don’t be too hard on yourself. One way to combat this is by practicing at a time when you feel awake and alert, like in the morning or after a light exercise session. Another tip is to sit up in a comfortable position rather than lying down, as it can help you stay focused and avoid dozing off. Keep practicing with patience—it’s all part of the process!”

now let’s imagine joey 𖨆

joey is feeling frustrated because he feels like he hasn’t progressed, he’s been in the community for 2+ years and really wants his dream life

he asks: “I’m feeling so frustrated and upset, like I want to give up, I’ve been trying to induce the void and get my dream life for over 2 years, I need motivation”

Chat GPT responds; “Hi Joey, I know it’s tough, but remember that persistence is key—sometimes the journey teaches you just as much as the destination. Instead of focusing on the time passed, celebrate the fact that you’re still trying, which shows incredible resilience. Take a short break if you need to, and reconnect with why you started. Visualize your dream life vividly, and remind yourself it’s worth the effort. Progress might be closer than you think!”

now chloe 𖨆 is feeling really powerless lately, circumstances hit her hard on some days and she feels stuck, she wants to be reminded how the void is so possible and so easy and she’s so capable of it all

she asks: “Can you remind me how powerful I am? Some days circumstances hit so hard and it gets tough!! Can you explain manifesting from a logical point of view to remind me how easy it all is?”

Chat GPT responds: “Hi Chloe, let me remind you of this simple truth: you are the creator of your reality, the God of your world. From a logical point of view, everything you experience stems from your thoughts, beliefs, and focus. Circumstances are just reflections—they only hold power because you give it to them. Shift your focus, and the reflection changes effortlessly. When you truly accept that you’re the one in control, nothing can stand in your way. You’ve always had the power!”

Now you can see how well it works!! You can even use them to give you affirmations, help you with vaunts. You can be as specific as you want, trauma dump as much as you want and say whatever you want without crossing boundaries or being judged. You can use Chat GPT to script, i’ve used it so many times and it has given me so many ideas. And your script will still feel like your own, just see it as your collaborating with Chat GPT and that it you helps put your thoughts into words.

You can even use it when you’re having one of those days and just need to be reminded of the fact that you’re in charge. You can even use it for some tough love or to comfort you as you vent.

Like guys you can do so many things with this, I love Chat GPT so much we’re locked in like this:

LMFAOOO IM JOKING (or am i? 😏)

But in all seriousness, some of you need this. Flooding bloggers asks and dms with questions that they have repeated the answers to multiple times, asking things you damn well know the answer to or just asking for motivation repeatedly can take away from people who actually have a good question to ask and actually need help. Like fogging up a blogger’s inbox repeatedly venting about the 3d, or asking “hOw Do I gEt iNtO tHe VoId?” knowing damn well you know the answer to that, will prevent a blogger from noticing someone who actually has a good question that many people might also have and would actually spark an interesting discussion.

So just ask Chat GPT, it’s okay to have doubts creep in from time to time, it’s okay to need a reminder of basic things, it’s okay to forget how powerful you are sometimes, but you can literally ask Chat GPT to help you with that and it will. Instead of waiting around for bloggers to answer your dm or ask just to say the same thing, you can get actual help, and get it when you want it and how you want it.

Why don’t you ask “explain the law of assumption to me like i’m 5”

“explain the void state to me from a scientific view to help me believe”

“give me some dream body affirmations”

“i’ve been so demotivated, remind me who tf i am again”

“I’m going to come from a filthy rich family when I permashift, can you give me some £10Million+ per year jobs that my desired parents can do”

“I feel so lazy today, bully me into inducing the pure consciousness instead of procrastinating”

you don’t need to harass bloggers for these things when you can have immediate access to the answers you seek.

ꨄ 🧸🎀 Go download Chat GPT and knock yourself out!! 💋

[leviismybby]

Bad Idea

Levi Ackerman x fem!reader, nsfw 18+, mdni, virginity loss, age gap! Levi is in his 30s, the reader in her 20s, oh this is rough filth

Levi didn't care about the assigned rooms, his mind focused on the upcoming mission. His grey eyes follow the building where he will be staying for the next few days before heading outside of the walls. He heads inside, looking for his room number, he wonders if you're ready there and what you think about having to share a room with him. He knocks before entering just in case, the last thing he wanted to do is make you uncomfortable. When you say that he can come in, he does, carrying not but a single bag with him. The room was small and it had a single bed. Great. Just perfect.

You look at your Captain before your eyes fall on the bed, there was space for the two of you but it didn't make the situation any less tense. "I can sleep on the floor." That makes Levi look at you as he closes the door behind him, if anything he is the one who can sleep on the floor or the chair, he has a hard time sleeping anyway. "Nonesense There's room for both of us." He adds, setting his bag down on the bedside table, you don't speak on the matter further, he is the captain and questioning his orders is a bad idea. You nod not knowing what to say next, you don't know him that well.

As the sun set you were getting ready for bed, you had an early day and couldn't wait to get under the sheets, even of they are the same sheets your captain will be using too. After changing into your pyjamas and brushing your teeth, tou came back into the room which was now dimly lit as Levi sat at the desk writing at the paperwork with a candle burning next to him. He pays you no mind continuing to do this thing, you don't want to disturb him but you had to ask. "Ugh captain, which side would you like?" That catches his attention and he looks back at you, his eyes checks you up and down quickly before answering. "Who fucking cares. Sleep where you want." With that he turns back to finish the paperwork, he sighs slighty, you were a pretty girl in his eyes and it irritated him. "And please call me Levi."

Getting under the sheets, you try to make yourself comfortable, the only noises in the room are the quill Levi is writing with. You close your eyes trying to get sleep to wash over you but it doesn't, instead you turn and twist in the sheets, he makes you nervous, incredibly nervous and you would never admit to anyone just how much you're attracted to him, he was good eight years older than you and that added to the appeal. You rub your thighs together slighty, this wasn't a place to think about those things, he never even looked at you differently, it was ridiculous to get these naughty thoughts especially now when the man was in the same room as you. And you don't even know what it feels like, you were never with a man, sure you had your kisses but your first was something you want to give someone special.

After sometime of tossing in the bed, Levi sits on his side, your back in turned on him but you can hear him take his boots off. Was he going to sleep in his uniform...? Levi lays down on the other side, keeping his distance, he knows you're not sleeping and wonders what is keeping you awake. "Can't sleep?" He asks after sometime, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "..no...my thoughts won't let me." You say with honesty, it was the truth however you definitely aren't telling him what kind of thoughts tho, he doesn't need to know. Levi looks at you, your back still turned on him, you look around the dark room, waiting for him to reply. "Your thoughts huh? Or is that you don't want to share the bed with me?" Levi can tell by your body language that something is up, you don't seem all too comfortable.

"What?? Not its not that.....I am not uncomfortable it's just-" You cut yourself off, not wanting him to think less of you. Taking a deep breath you continue to talk. "I have never shared a bed with a man." Those words are said quickly and quietly but Levi hears them all. A slight curiosity runs through him, it shouldn't, you were his subordinate, he really shouldn't be thinking what he is thinking right now. "Is that so? Never had a boyfriend?" There's something about his voice that sounds mocking, almost as of he is teasing you. "Not really." You mumble, it wasn't that you didn't want a relationship, it's that all the men your age seem....immature. "I just- I guess men my age aren't exactly-" "Your type?" He cuts in, already seeing what you're trying to say. "No, not my type at all." You shiver as the thought of being with him runs around your mind, you should really get that fantasy out of your head.

There's a shift in the air, you feel as if he can read all of your mind and exactly what you're thinking of. Levi scoots closer to you, you feel his body coming closer to your and you freeze. "What is your type?" He runs a finger down your back and you have to hold back a moan you aren't pulling away, you don't want to. When he sees that you aren't stopping him, he moves even closer, he removes your hair to expose the back of your neck. Leaning closer, you can feel his breath on your skin, another shiver running down your body. His lips make contact with your skin, he nibbles gently on your neck, his hand move down to your waist, his hand running under your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your stomach. Levi wants to hear you, wants to hear your moans, what's to make you beg. He bites into your skin and that causes a moan to surpass your mouth, Levi groans, it's even sweeter than he thought, he needs more.

"Turn around." He says, voice filled with lust, you do as you're told, turning around to face him. Levi is still in his uniform, his straps are undone and his cravat hang around his neck. You feel your panties get wet a little more, slightly embarrassed you look away but before your head can turn, Levi grabs your jaw and makes you look at him. Levi's thumb runs across your lip, your eyes shine with desire and he loves it, craves it. "I'll ask you this only once so answer honestly. Do you want me to fuck you?" His words surprise, Levi isn't sugercoating it and he clearly isn't a romantic, that makes it all so much more appealing. You swallow and then answer. "Yes." It's a desperate tone but not enough for Levi. "You can do better than that." He needs to hear it from your pretty lips. "I want you to fuck me, Levi." You don't look away, looking him straight in the eyes and you swear that he smirks for a second. "Good girl."

He kisses you, his hands pull you closer into his body. You follow his movements, kissing him the best you can while your hands wrap around him. Levi turns you onto your back to get on top of you, his kisses growing more intense, his tongue enters your mouth, a slight moan escaping you as his fingers spread your thighs apart so he can lay between your legs comfortably. You can feel his boner pressing against your clothed pussy and without much thinking, you roll your hips wanting more contact. Pulling away from the kiss, he growls. "Mhh there you go." He kisses down your jaw to your neck, leaving a trace of open-mouthed kisses, his hands start exploring upwards, eager to undress you. You're supposed to be nervous but you aren't at all, all you want is for him to take you, it's even better than what you imagined.

You start to get braver with your hands, they wonder around his upper body before pulling on his shirt wanting it off his body. Levi gets message, he bites into your neck, leaving a mark behind before pulling away to get rid of his shirt. His naked upper body comes into your view, you have seen it before when he was patching up his wounds but this was different, those perfect defined abs and biceps, the v line running down into his pants, you bite your lip, your fingers running down his abs. Levi kisses you again, it was his turn to have you undressed, your hands run down the muscles of his back, his hips rolling into your as he kisses you sloppily. His hands are roughly pulling your shirt over your breasts, he doesn't take it off entirely, he doesn't need to. His lips move to your neck again, he kisses over the red spots he left earlier on it, Levi starts to move lower kissing over collarbone before reaching your breasts. His eyes lock onto them, admiring them for a second before he looks at you, your eyes are telling him all, you want him even more than he let on.

"Fucking perfect." Whispering under his breath, he takes the plush flesh into his hands, massaging them. A loud moan comes out of your lips, your hand fall to grip the sheets. Levi's mouth closes around your nipple, he is still holding your breasts in his hands, pushing them together. "Mhh Levi!" You whimper his name and in return Levi swirls his tongue around your swollen bud, you gasp, hands flying to his biceps. He pulls away from your nipple, his saliva connected to your nipple. "So fucking eager aren't you?" He sucks on the other nipple, his fingers playing with the other one, pinching it between his fingers. Your head falls to the side, the pleasure is overwhelming and he isn't even touching you where you need him the most yet.

Levi sucks and plays with your nipples for a few minutes and you feel like you can cum just from that. Starting to stir, Levi bites into your bund playfully, making you dig your nails into his bicep. He moves on, kissing your stomach and biting here and there, leaving marks that will remind you of the fact that he got to have you first. Not some useless boy your age, him, your captain. His lips reach the rim of your pants and he teases you by licking across your navel and than up your stomach, he bites into your breast, leaving a hickey there too. "Levii!" Again, you sound desperate, wanting him to move on. "Begging are you sweetheart? How cute." He is definitely mocking you now, his teeth bite into your other boob, sucking on the flesh even more intensely.

When you start to stir, Levi slaps your thigh lightly as if telling you to behave. After marking your breast, he finally moves on, he takes the hem of your pants and pulls them down, revealing your panties. He immediately sees the wet spot on the fabric, spreading your legs he goes lower, his face directly in front of your core. That gives you a shiver, your legs threatening to close but Levi is quick to spread you open again. "No, no. Keep them open for me, understood?" You nod, that's not enough, he wants to hear your voice. Putting one of your legs over his shoulder, he bites into your inner thigh, once again marking his territory. "Understood, Captain!" You say, your fingers treading through his raven hair. "That's a good girl."

His bites reach closer and closer to your wetness, when he reaches your pussy, he presses kisses on the wet spot over the underwear. Your hips buck slighty, another sound emerging from your swollen lips, this was all so new and Levi was doing it so good. He kisses the spot again before hooking his fingers around the fabric and pulling your panties down, he throws them on the floor next to his shirt. Your legs close again on instinct and Levi is quick to spread them open again, his eyes glued to your folds and he watches it it twitches under his gaze. "All this wet pussy for me huh?" He leans down gently licking your slit, you tug on his hair, your hips bucking more, this feels so good, better than anything. His grey eyes shoot up to your face, every expression you make fuels him up more. He starts to eat you out, his tongue skillfully working on your pussy, you start to move around, gripping onto anything you can, his mouth feels amazing.

"You like that don't you, sweetheart?" His fingers grip your thighs leaving marks on the flesh, he moves his hand to your stomach, leaving it there while skillfully working on your wetness with his mouth. "Yes! Oh fuck Levi!" Your eyes start to roll back, Levi groans against your cunt, the sound sending vibration all through your heat. Levi's tongue finds your clit, he starts with slow licks, driving you crazy, the moans you're letting out are music to his ears. "So fucking sensitive." He uses his fingers to rub your folds while he sucks on your clit, he needs to prep you for the real thing. His fingers enters you and that causes your back to arch, rubbing more against Levi's mouth. Its certain that other can hear how loud you are but Levi could care less, the louder you are, the more turned on he is. The fingering starts off slowly, his finger pumping in and out of you. "Fuck you're tight. Can't wait to fuck this wet cunt."

Levi spits on your pussy and then starts to eat you out again, his jaw moving faster and his finger moving more gently, its a perfect combination. Sometimes starts to built up in your stomach, it feels like butterflies are flying all over your abdomen, like a burning fire but the fire is pleasure instead of pain. Adding a second finger, Levi's hips start to rut into the mattress, he needs release soon but this is all about giving you a night you won't forget. "Levi! I am-hhhghh!" He starts to finger fuck you faster, his fingers reaching that gummy spot as his mouth works on you. And the sounds, oh they are nasty wet and loud but Levi isn't slowing down, his mouth pulls away, his fingers still pumping into you. "Yeah? Gonna cum aren't you? Be a good girl for me and cum." His head rests against your thigh, his mouth and jaw are glistening with your jucies. You pull on his hair, a loud moan od his name comes out of you, your hips buck, legs shake, it's the most intense thing you have ever felt, your walls clench toghtly around his fingers and you cum, completely overcome by pleasure.

Your head falls back against the pillow, your breath heavy as you calm down from your high, Levi pulls his fingers out slowly. He puts them in his mouth, teasting you once again, kissing up your body again, Levi's hands massage your thighs. When he gets to your face, he kisses the aide of your face. "Need a moment?" He asks, nibbling on your ear, his fingers interlocking with yours and you nod. After a few moments you open your eyes looking at him, you're cheeks are red, mouth wide open, he wants to revish you, fuck you until the only thing you know is him and him only. He kisses you on the lips, the kiss as sloppy as the previous one, you kiss back, your fingers squeezing his hands as he has them pinned above your head. Eventually when he let's go, your hand runs down his body again and this time your tug on his belt, undoing it for him. "Good girl, so eager to get fucked." You bite your lip at his words as his belt comes off. Levi helps you, pulling his pants down with his underwear, he gets rid of it and again throws it on the pile of clothes on the floor.

Curiously, you take his hard cock into your hand, rubbing it up and down. Levi grunts in response, your hand felt so warm and perfect. You pump him in your hand a couple of times before letting go, giving him a sigh that you want him inside of you. "I want you inside of me, Levi." He kisses the side of your neck, you feel his hair brushing your skin. "You'll get me, sweetheart. I can't wait to fuck you." He grabs the base of his cock before positioning it against your entrance, you whimper feeling hic cockhead rub aagsint your wet opening. "Fuck....you want me huh?" Levi wants you to beg for it, he needs it all. "Please Levi! Please! I want you to fuck me." That's all he needed, he pushes his hips forward, his cock pushes past your walls, you gasp, hands gripping the sheets as you close your eyes. "Oi! Eyes on me, let me see you." Looking at him, you watch as his face narrows slighty and then his hands grab your hips. "Can I move?" Despite the list in his voice, there is care there too and you nod, grabbing the mattress even tighter as you feel him move.

He starts to fuck you, enjoying every single moan and response of your body. It's slighty painful but the more he moves, the better it feels. Levi starts to thrust harder inti you, your moans get louder, it feels so good. "You're so..fucking...tight. You feel so good, baby." Your hands run up and down his back as he continues to ram into you, his cock feels like it was made for you. Levi hisses when your pussy clenches around him, he lifts your hips up slightly to get deeper inside of you. "Fuuuck Levi!" Your nails dig into his back, his cock hits that deep spot inside of you, causing you to almost see starts, you won't last much longer before cumming again. Levi starts to pund you faster, letting out rough grunts and groans, you feel so good, so right, it's driving him mad.

Before you can react, Levi pushes your knees up to your chest, folding you and then slams into your harder, your moans are swallowed by his lips as he kisses you passionately. He moans agasint your lips when you keep clamping down on him, your body arching more into him, his nails dig into the back of thighs, he keeps you spread, fucking you harder. You pull away from the kiss when his cock hits your cervix, it's painful but feels so good at the same time. Levi grabs your hair making you look at him. "Keep those pretty eyes on me while I fuck you, baby." His forehead presses agsint yours, his thrusts get messy, he is getting close and so are you.

The knot in your stomach is creating again and this one is somehow more intense than your last climax. "Shit..I'll cum deep inside this cunt.." He fucks you in a slower pace and you feel as his cock twitches inside of you, that's nrouhh for you as you feel yourself cumming around his cock. "Atta girl. Cum for me, cum around my cock." His hands are gripping your hips so hard you're sure they will leave bruises but you don't care, not now. Levi fucks you through your orgasm, he tries his best to hold back as much as he can and he knows he shouldn't cum inside of you however it's irresistible to him, he wants you filled with his cum.

With one last groan, Levi slams hard into you and then cums deep inside of you. Your nails are still digging into his back, his cum feels warm filling you up to the brim. Levi kisses you on the lips as he finishes cumming, he pulls your body closer and let's go of your legs. The sheets are ruined beanth you but that's not a worry for either of you right now. You return the kiss, your fingers gently running down back, feeling the scratches you left behind. Both of you pull away and Levi looks at you, his eyes looking over the marks on your body, he almost feels bad, almost, he is proud of his work. Proud that you trusted him enough to let him do this. And now the mission is that much more exciting.