#basically if you ask her to let you be for a couple of weeks or so she’s going to grow bored of you and remind you of your place

[storiesofsvu]

I Won't

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, hurt/comfort, grief/anxiety. So this is a bit all over the place when it comes to canon lol. Based in s17, but jumbling around the canon events so that they like all happen at the same time/in a different order than the show. if that makes sense. i dunno. it was a random idea that got word vomited into a doc *months* ago and i slowly worked through it until it mainly made sense. also had no clue how to end it so... here ya go. it might be garbage LOL. Basically. In which Emily has a terrible, very bad, not good time and is burning out and instead of brushing it off or getting high or masking it with dark humour or determination to keep working she actually lets herself fully breakdown and realize that she needs to be taken care of too.

Emily let out a groan as her apartment door fell shut behind her, her body drooping into the slab of wood, shoulders sinking further and further as the weight of the last twenty four hours seeped into her soul. God, she was fucking tired. She ran a hand over her face, letting her fingers thread through her hair, untangling a few locks and she couldn’t help but shudder at the feeling. She desperately needed a shower.

“Is that you?” A voice called out and she practically jumped out of her skin, her eyes shooting wide open as she hesitantly stepped further into her own apartment. 

A second later your head popped around the corner of the kitchen and despite already recognizing your voice, a breath of relief escaped her lips as she calmed herself. She was too on edge.

“What’re you doing here?” She asked, rounding the corner to the kitchen as you stepped back into it.

“Taking care of you.” You replied with a shrug, picking up the spatula again, your eyes narrowing slightly at your girlfriend, “someonehas to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her eyes raked over the breakfast bar, containers stacked up filled with rice, meatballs and veggies. Another row of containers lay empty in wait for whatever was finishing on the stove. 

“Food. For starters.” You scooped stir fry into a container and slid it across the counter toward her, “when’s the last time you ate?”

“I-uh, I’m fine.” She shook her head, but the growling immediately coming from her stomach gave her away and all you had to do was raise a brow in her direction for her to huff and grab a fork. 

“I figured a home cooked meal after a night in a cell was a good call.”

“Thanks.” She mumbled, slipping off her coat before sliding onto a stool at the island. 

Emily stared into the container, fork stabbing around various pieces of chicken and peppers, moving things around on her makeshift plate. She was hungry, there was no denying that, but something about giving in and actually eating felt a little bit like admitting defeat. Continuing to poke around in the container, she chewed on her lip, reflecting over the horrendously long past couple of weeks. 

Everything was falling apart and she knew it.

Her lip began to tremble and she finally stabbed a piece of chicken onto the fork and shoved it into her mouth in an attempt to hide the fact that she was breaking apart. She gnawed on the food until it was nearly disintegrated, worried that she wouldn’t be able to swallow it past the lump in her throat. Her chest felt tight, a burning in her stomach that she wasn’t sure was from hunger or something much worse. Her eyes briefly flicked up to see you flitting around the kitchen, it was as if she wasn’t even there, or worse, you knew exactly what was going on in her head and were letting her have a moment. Letting her sit in the mess she’d made to ruminate before you left her on her own.

Finally, she swallowed, clearing her throat as she dug around in the container again, “you should go.”

“Nope.” You replied, popping the ‘p’ before adding rice to each of the stir fry containers, including the one she was pretending to eat out of. 

Emily sighed softly, she admired your persistence, a trait you’d no doubt picked up from her over your time together. Most of her wanted to wallow in her own self-pity alone, in the complete and utter darkness of her apartment chain smoking cigarettes and trying to convince herself to not pour over case files when she was suspended. There wasn’t a point to it. She wasn’t being helpful, her superiors had made sure she knew that before she left Quantico that afternoon when they tore into her. Bringing up Bailey, how his death happened under the jurisdiction of a BAU case, how that meant she should be the one to be held responsible. She’d already lost her title as Section Chief; there was nowhere to go but down. 

“You wanna keep playing the quiet game or do you want to talk about it?” You asked, breaking through her mental self-beating.

A puff of air escaped her lips, her shoulders sagging even further and when she spoke it was barely above a whisper. “Nothing feels right.” 

“’Course nothing feels right.” You pulled a bottle of wine from the rack, filling up two glasses and sliding one to her before resting your hip against the counter, “you just got suspended in the middle of a huge case.”

“I’m failing the team.”

“You’re burning out Em, it’s not the same.” Your voice was soft as you gazed across at her, trying to unscramble all the wires in her head and attempt to make them make sense in yours. 

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head, taking a generous sip of wine, she’d been exhausted before, been where she thought was the bottom but something about this was different. The more the brass came down on her, warning her to colour between the lines the less she cared about even acknowledging the lines themselves. The scale of right and wrong was starting to fade from her mind all together, her moral compass incessantly spinning with no clue where to land. 

“Talk to me.” Your hand landed on hers, squeezing softly.

“I told Rossi to assassinate Voit.”

“He probably deserves it.” You replied, the corner of your lips curving upward. 

Emily let out a scoff, stabbing harder at a piece of chicken, sending sauce spraying across the counter while she stared into the meal. You effortlessly wiped the spill away with a paper towel using your free hand, squeezing softly at Emily’s again, knowing that you’d started down the wrong direction.

“Hey, I was kidding, okay? The guy’s annoying as all hell and we all want him to go down for what he’s done.”

Emily continued to shove bits of food around, her voice low when she spoke, “the team needs you; you should get back to work.”

You simply shifted your hand, interlocking your fingers with hers, “I can think of someone that needs me more.”

“I’m serious.” She glanced up, doing her best to stare you down with a Unit Chief worthy glare. 

Instead of balking you simply raised a brow at her, “I’m staying. End of discussion.”

She cast you a glance and you could see the misting of tears ever so slowly building up in her eyes. 

“Em…” you slipped onto a stool beside her, hand drifting down to her knee, “you’re not failing anybody. We’re all struggling, we’re tired, sick of Voit and his fucking games, how this bullshit never seems to end. It’s enough to drive anybody crazy.”

“I fucking hate politics.” She muttered, gently pushing the dish of food away from her to pick up her wine.

“I know.” You chuckled softly.

“The push and pull is insane. You do your job, catch the bad guys, that should be it, director and all his suit buddies should be happy. But they’re not, there’s issues with everything, uncrossed t’s and undotted I’s, no matter how fucking hard we work they’re not satisfied and if loop holes keep popping up and people get let go or we don’t get to do our jobs, more people end up dead.” Her eyes squeezed shut and she tried to ignore the way her stomach was turning, “and I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault.”

Tenderly, your hand reached out, cupping her cheek, your thumb brushing over her soft skin, waiting and ready to catch and wipe away any tears that she actually let fall. You knew how much she hated this, how hard it was for her to be open and vulnerable after everything she’d survived. That it was far easier to just shove it all into a tiny little box, locked away with the rest of her secrets.

“Sometimes I feel like people hate me for it.” She murmured and you couldn’t help but frown.

“No one on our team ever could.” You assured her, “victims’ families might seem like they do in the heat of the moment but that’s because they have no one else to blame. You’re the one bearing the bad news, on what’s going to be the worst day of their lives, it’s so much to handle that they lash out on the first person they can. I’m sure after reflection everyone knows it’s not you.” You squeezed at her knee again, “no one knows how much goes into these things, and no one knows how fucking hard you work Emily.”

“How could they when half of it’s behind closed doors and after hours locked away all alone?”

“Why do you think I never leave without you? Or tell you to at least just bring it home with you so you can be comfortable and we can be together?”

“I guess I just thought you were nagging me a bit—no offence—” she quickly glanced up and you gave her the best smile you could, “that you wanted me home and wanted your girlfriend not your boss.”

“An added benefit.” You said with a head tilt, “but you’re incredible, okay? You need to remind yourself of that a little more often. Everyone on your team loves you and appreciates you and all of the hard work you do, all the extra things you do for us. You’re incredibly passionate, dedicated, committed, resilient, a bit stubborn.” You threw her a small smirk, “and those are all wonderful qualities for a leader. You always have been, even before any kind of promotion tossed you to the wolves and the bureaucratic bullshit that we all know you hate so much.”

“I never wanted it.” She sighed, slipping from the stool and scooping up her wine with one hand, your hand with the other, tugging you in the direction of the couch. “A promotion wasn’t ever supposed to be in the cards, Morgon got interim chief, I kept leaving and coming back. I liked where I was and what I was doing. I only took it because of Hotch.”

“Then why did you stay?” You asked, tucking your legs up under you as you settled next to her on the couch, “you could have left JJ in charge, could’ve let Barnes dismantle the group like she was trying to. She already had you all split up and miserable, so why come back to a job you claim to be terrible at and hate so much? You fought like hell for it and you don’t do something like that if there isn’t a reason.”

Emily’s finger traced the rim of her glass while she chewed on her lip, “I had to make sure they were taken care of.” She murmured, “that they would safe, together. And doing what was right. Whether the bosses think so or not, the BAU is a crucial piece of taking down unsubs before things get worse. And I couldn’t let some desk jockey lead them out into the field, that would have been disastrous. There was no other choice, it had to be me.”

“Alright… that makes sense.” Your hand squeezed at her knee, thumb brushing back and forth over her thigh, “putting others needs before yours does seem to be the way you think.”

A sound that was almost a snort came from Emily but she didn’t say anything, just took another sip of her wine so you continued.

“You have always made yourself a bit of a sacrificial lamb. Doyle, Barnes, and I’m seeing it happening again. You’re valuing your team and their happiness more than you’re currently valuing your own life and that’s not okay.”

“It’s fine.” She huffed, “I’m just going to quit anyways.”

Your shoulders sagged as a sigh broke free from your lips, the crease between your eyebrows deepening as you took a moment to watch your girlfriend. Seeing her like this wasn’t something you were used to and you weren’t entirely sure if tough love or coddling was going to be the best option. Emily didn’t like opening up, she didn’t like to let other people see that side of her, didn’t ever want to appear to be weak, to be the person who needed someone to lean on. She was the team leader—or at least should have been— she was the one who was supposed to be holding everyone together, not the other way around. 

“I know what fine is, and it certainly is not telling a team of military trained personal to ‘go ahead and shoot me’.” You cast her a glance and she scowled in your direction, “Emily, that’s not okay. I know you want to make sure your team is safe and taken care of but you’ve gotta learn to let people take care of you. Especially in times like this. I know how easy it is to isolate, to self-medicate, to not want to let anyone else know that you’re losing control. That keeping up appearances is the preferred priority. But holding everything in doesn’t help, ya know?”

Reaching out, Emily placed her wine glass down on the coffee table, her gaze remained locked on the glass as she absorbed your words. She felt her stomach churning again, a bitter taste in the back of her mouth as she picked at her nails, wishing she could disappear. 

“Why are you doing this?” She finally asked, her voice hollow and her eyes not meeting yours.

“Because I love you. And I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m not going to hurt myself,” she practically scoffed, “don’t worry.”

“Maybe not intentionally.” You murmured, your hand still a warming presence on her leg, “but you’re getting a little self-destructive. You think I haven’t noticed all of the sneaky roof top smoke breaks? The open bottles of wine in your office? I know your insomnia has been getting worse, which makes me think your nightmares are back and you’re not talking about them. You threatened to quit, said you were totally fine with the director firing you, you let yourself get demoted. You may be a far better profiler than me but it doesn’t take much to notice that that’s a cry for help.”

Emily’s lip quivered as she blinked back tears, wishing that you hadn’t been able to read her so well, that you weren’t so incredibly on the nose. She couldn’t dare to say anything right now without the fear of bursting into tears and that was the last thing she ever wanted.

“And this whole getting arrested thing?” You continued, “it was finally something that was not the result of your direct doing. Entirely out of your control. I see it as a distraction, a trigger for you to hit a breaking point that you could finally let the rest of us see because it wasn’t your fault or doing. We had someone else to put the blame on, you had something scary and frustrating happen to you that we were aware of and you’re using it as a smoke screen. We focus on fighting that fight for you, making things right while continuing to work the case and you’re finally free to disappear off into the deep end to try and convince yourself that everything wasn’t all your fault. Or maybe wallow in self-pity.” Your shoulder shrugged, “I’m not totally clear on which one yet. Point is, I’m calling your bluff Prentiss. I see right through you and I need you to know that It’s okay to not be okay.” Your hand slid up to hers, interlacing your fingers and squeezing tightly, “it’s okay to need to take some time away from this insanely stressful and emotionally draining job, you don’t need to hide behind a suspension. Take the time to focus on yourself, hobbies, friends, anything that is a life outside of that building and those dark cases that continue to haunt you day in and day out. If you need a break, that is okay. Our team will be there with open arms when you get back, but you don’t just get to walk away from everything…”

Your voice cracked as you trailed off and your display of emotion was what finally broke Emily. She pulled her gaze away from the floor, a frown taking over her features at the tears blurring your eyes. Her hand reached up, cupping your cheek and you turned your head to press a kiss into her palm. 

“I’m supposed to be the strong one.” She whispered, scared her voice would fail her if she spoke any louder. 

“Not always.” You shook your head, “we all have to be broken once in a while.”

“I don’t want to be alone.” A tear finally escaped the corner of her eye, trailing over her cheek until you caught it with your thumb and wiped it away. 

“You’re not.” You wrapped an arm around her, pulling her to you and softly tucking her into your chest. Your lips brushed against the top of her head and you could feel her body beginning to shudder, “you’re never going to be alone again. We won’t let that happen, we won’t let you run away Em.” Her arms tightened around your waist when you pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “I’m here now and for as long as you want me, I’m not going anywhere and you can’t send me away.” 

“Okay.” She mumbled into your shirt, another shuddering breath escaping her lips as the tears finally poured down her cheeks. 

Somehow, something about this felt right, felt cathartic, like it actually was what was supposed to be happening tonight, not what she had planned. Emily wasn’t entirely sure what emotions were moving through her in that moment, she just knew that for the first time in months she felt safe, like she was exactly where she was meant to be. That she had a whole world of support at her back, a team of friends who’d become family, become the most important people in her life and they in hers and somehow her self doubt had clouded all of that. She felt a warmth envelope her body and she realized you’d pulled a blanket from the back of the couch, tucking it in neatly around your bodies. 

“You are so incredibly loved Emily Prentiss. Please don’t ever forget that.” You whispered, softly stroking her hair.

She sniffled, burrowing her face deeper into your chest as her fingers twisted into the fabric of your shirt. The smell of your shampoo mixed with the detergent you used snuck into her senses as if it was a calming potion, her heart rate starting to finally lower, coming back to normal. She didn’t feel the prickling under her skin anymore, the itchiness that made her want to run and never look back slowly dissipating to be replaced with something she wasn’t quite sure of. Her lips brushed your collarbone, leaving a tender kiss there before she finally realized what it was and spoke. 

“I won’t.”

___________

There are more than 50 of you wanting to be tagged. If you do not reblog/comment you’ll be removed so i can tag ppl who will/want to be added

@daddy-heather-dunbar @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx @momily @nilaues @Soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts @just-moondust @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch @dowsedwithbleach @m1lfsh4ke @idkwhatever580 @ohlookmypeach @hausoffun @suckerforcate @xenafan25 @necronazarick @avoiderofthings @tigerf-cker @decadentcatcrusade @fictionalized-lesbian @schemmentisimpasours @mybraininblood @piiinco

[a-very-fond-farewell]

fellas the grind is turning my right arm into dust and there’s no sexual innuendo in there bc

so to the keyboard we go instead!

[thestuffedalligator]

The thing was a mound of flesh and mottled skin, as big as a barn and the shape of a pumpkin. Four tentacles as thick as trees hung limp at its sides; teeth ringed the gaping mouth at the top of its head like a crown.

A huge, sad whale eye the colour of wine stared at the knight. She could see her reflection in the jelly surface.

“We don’t know what it is,” she heard. “Some kind of monster that makes a perfect copy of whatever it eats. They think that was how the Dark Lord made his armies, feeding his minions to it so that it would make hundreds of copies of them. Do you recognize it?”

The knight opened her mouth. She hesitated. “Yeah,” she murmured, drawing out the word. “We found it in the Dark Lord’s tower, right?”

“That’s right. That’s where it ate you.”

The knight turned around and looked at her other reflection. This one appeared to be about ten years older, and had doffed her armor for a loose blue tunic and breeches.

She was holding a cup of tea. She had pressed another cup into the knight’s hand when she woke up here. It had been a shock finding herself suddenly out the obsidian dungeons of the Dark Lord’s tower and into this tall room of stone and straw. The warmth of it in her hands steadied her a bit.

“Everyone else in the party was worried, but then it started making copies of you,” the copy went on, staring up at the tentacled thing. “And all of the copies helped fight against the Dark Lord, and we won, and peace was restored across the land, but then nobody could figure out how to kill the damn thing or just to make it stop. Dozens of copies of us in a day, hundreds in a week, and then someone decided that the only thing we could do is just bring the thing here, seal it off and hope it starved to death.”

She sipped her tea. “Anyways, that was two-hundred years ago and it’s slowed down a bit. It can only make a new copy of us every few weeks now.”

The knight looked down into her tea. The copy had also draped a blanket over her shoulders.

“I have so many questions,” she said.

“I figured.”

“How can it be two-hundred years? I can still remember breaking into the tower. That feels like it was just minutes ago.”

“It was, basically. Your brain is a perfect copy of the original you’s brain at the exact moment she was eaten.”

“But the quest is just — done?”

“Yep. You missed some of the things that needed tying up afterward. There was a war, and a dragon, and some business about a ring.” She waved a hand. “It was before my time. Things are pretty settled now.”

“My parents?”

“Passed away about a hundred-and-fifty years ago. I’ve been told that they were very proud.”

The knight nodded. “Um. I don’t know if you know — we had an elf in our party—”

“I’m aware.”

“I — right. Obviously. Um. It’s just, after everything was done, I was going to ask her—”

“One of us did. She said yes. She outlived her. A couple of us have tried to reach out since then, but she wants to be left alone for a while.”

The knight considered this. “Uh — right,” she said eventually. Her fingers tightened around the tea cup. “Um. What do I do now?”

Her older copy shrugged. She had let her hair grow out again, the knight noticed. There were a few strands of grey against the black. “That’s up to you, I’m afraid,” she said. “A lot of us are finding work as soldiers and sellswords. We’ve done it for so long that most armies know we’re reliable and don’t tend to turn one of us away. Most of us are just sort of spreading out, wandering the world. Some of us keep in touch.”

The knight frowned. “What do you do?”

Her copy paused, tea cup half raised to her lips. “Sorry?”

“You said it only makes a new copy every few weeks now. So you just stay here and wait for a new one to show up?”

She lowered the cup. “Well,” she said. “I guess I just — I know what it can be like, waking up here in the dark, and it — it can be horrible trying to figure all of this out on your own.

“So I thought that what I’d do is just stay here with a pot of tea, and whenever I see myself again, I tell her that — that she’s not alone.”

“We aren’t?”

“Of course not. We’re all in this together, you know.”

[sceletaflores]

slippin' and slidin' all over you!

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, sweating, mutual masturbation, sweat licking (i don't know???), not-so-dry humping, p in v, JUST THE TIP RAHHH, creampie, fingering (fem!recieving), oral sex (fem!receiving), come swapping, come eating, literally over four thousand words of pure nasty smut, this is gross lowkey, idk i'm h*rny, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: very much not the winner or even an option of the poll i posted last week but...shhh don't hate me. it’s october and over 80 every single day, what the fuck is that? only good thing that came from this heat is thoughts of nasty sweaty sex with logan. once again shoutout to my wonderful husband @ebodebo for reading this over for me (i successfully changed her vendetta against sucking up some man sweat...which was the real point of this fic tbh) go give her fics some love if you're a slut for ghost! kisses!

logan forgot to fix the ac...

It's too hot out to be alive. 36°C and sunny.

One of the hottest days in recent memory for Alberta, and you're really feeling it.

"Remind me," you say slowly, the first words spoken in almost ten minutes. "How many times did I ask you to fix the air conditioner?"

"Don't start," Logan says from his spot across the room. His head is tipped back to rest on the couch cushion, eyes slipped shut.

You ignore him, lazily rolling your head to the side to look at him through squinted eyes, your brows furrowed in thought. "Was it ten? Or maybe thirteen?"

Logan huffs a breath, slow and heavy, but he doesn't move--doesn't even open his eyes. “I said don’t start,” he mutters again, though there’s the faintest edge of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Don't worry baby," you say, voice pitched lower in a terrible impersonation of Logan. "I'll get to it, promise. Won’t get too hot for another couple months."

Logan finally cracks an eye open, just enough to give you a sideways glance, his mouth twitching with amusement. "You done?"

You hum noncommittally, the sound lingering in the air like the lazy summer breeze doing nothing to cool the temperature outside. Your gaze slips down the side of his face to trace the jut of his jaw, then lower to the sweaty column of his neck. 

Both you and Logan lost most of your clothes earlier in the day, too hot to bother wearing anything but underwear. You trudged around the house like zombies until you finally gave up on trying to be productive, you both ended up in the living room. 

All the windows are cracked open, trying in vain to let in any cool air. You claimed the armchair closest to the fan, refusing to be anywhere near Logan and the massive heat wave he constantly gives off.

Logan’s on the couch, stripped down to the thinnest pair of sleep shorts you’ve ever seen. His chest is bare, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat that mats the dark hair dusted along his pecs to his skin. 

You can’t help the way your eyes follow the drops of moisture that slide slowly down the contours of his abs. A low heat starting to swirl through your gut when it disappears into his happy trail.

It's funny. When you basically peeled yourself off your mattress this morning, sex was the absolute last thing on your mind.

Now, as your eyes glide over the strong expanse of Logan's body on full display, you're having second thoughts.

Maybe it just comes with the heat. That sort of slow, syrupy feeling that slides along your overheated skin to pulse pleasantly between your thighs.

A bead of sweat slides down the length of your spine slowly, falling until it soaks into the damp waistband of your panties. You try to not notice how Logan is halfway across the room, not touching you.

You fail.

“It’s just a shame, though,” you start, fingers idly toying with the hem of your tank top. “If it was cooler, I could come over there.”

You slide a leg up, letting it rest against the wooden rest, newly exposed skin gleaming under the sunlight filtering in. 

The move isn't lost on Logan. You see his jaw clench slightly, the tiniest shift in his posture.

"Something you wanted?" Logan asks, his voice going low and teasing. "Looks like you've been gettin' yourself all worked up over there."

“Just thinking,” you reply, shifting slightly on the sticky leather of the chair.

Logan’s fingers twitch at his sides, his chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. His eyes slide the rest of the way open, his gaze heavy and lingering as it ventures down to where your thin shirt sticks to your skin, outlining every curve.

“Oh yeah?” he prompts, his voice a little rougher now. “Thinkin’ about what, baby?”

“You,” you say easily, fingers slipping down to your thigh. You bring your other leg up, perching it against the opposite armrest. Your thighs spread wide enough that you know Logan has a full view of the wet spot growing along the gusset of your panties.

The hitch in Logan’s breath has you stifling a smug smile, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch the way his chest starts rising faster.

"That's real sweet, sugar," he drawls, an unimpressed look on his face as he drags his eyes back up to your own. "But if you're tryin' to get me over there, you're gonna have to do better than that." His voice slides through the air heavy and warm like molasses.

You bite back a grin, enjoying the slow game that's unfolding between the two of you. 

"Maybe I don’t want you to come over here," you let your fingers trail a little lower, just to the edge of your panties, teasing. “Maybe I like you right where you are.”

Logan’s brow raises, his thighs tensing before he spreads them just a touch wider. The fabric of his boxers goes taut over the strong muscle, riding up to expose even more hairy skin to your greedy eyes.

"You're playin' with fire, kid," he warns.

The tent in his shorts is obvious now, the hard length of his cock pressing against the fabric where it lays across his thigh. Your other hand twitches by your side at just the sight, your pussy throbbing with the sudden need to be filled.

"Am I?" you murmur, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, just enough to make sure he knows exactly where this is headed. ”It’s not like you’re going to do anything about it, you’re too busy pouting."

With a deliberate slowness, you slide your fingers lower, brushing against your clit with just enough pressure to let out a soft gasp at the contact. You arch your back slightly, relishing in the way the air feels against your skin, hot and sticky.

You want him to see how badly you need him—how his heat is the only thing that could truly satisfy the insatiable ache building between your legs.

Logan's nostrils flare, jaw tightening and eyes darkening at the sight of you teasing yourself. His restraint is slipping, and you can practically feel the tension building in the room, thick and stifling like the oppressive summer heat. 

But he still doesn’t move, doesn’t rush over like you expect him to. Instead, he shifts his hips slightly, spreading his legs wider and letting his hand fall on his thigh. 

You can’t help the way your breath quickens at the sight, the way his fingers drift dangerously close to his own growing bulge, teasing you just as much as you’re teasing him. 

You tilt your head to the side, gazing at him through your lashes. “You're really just gonna leave me hanging?” you goad, fingers circling lazily around your sensitive clit. “Come on stud, whip it out.”

Logan chuckles low, a sound that sends shivers through you. "Is that what you want, baby?" he asks, voice thick and taunting, a smirk curling on his lips. “You want me to whip it out for you?”

“Yeah,” you murmur breathlessly, biting your lip as you maintain eye contact, your breath starting to come in short bursts. “I need to see you, Logan. Need to see how hard you are for me.”

“Need to, huh,” he muses slowly, fingers finally grazing over the hard length of his cock. “What’s in it for me?”

“How about this?” You slip your hand out from your ruined panties, fingers glistening with your own wetness as you hook your thumbs on either side and drag them down your legs.

You let the soaked cotton fall to the floor, leaving you completely exposed to him.

Logan’s pupils dilate, an inky black completely swallowing the warm hazel. He licks his lips slowly, the tip of his tongue running along his teeth like he wants to sink them into you. His cock twitches visibly beneath his shorts, the growing tension in the air between you thick enough to choke on.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his voice low and gravelly, more of a growl than a word.

You smile, shifting in the chair to give him an even better view, your legs spreading wider. "Yeah?" you purr, running your fingers over your slick inner thigh, feeling the heat radiating from your own skin. “You like what you see?”

Logan swallows hard, his hand finally slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts, palming his cock as he watches you. “You know I do,” he says, voice rougher than before. 

You let your hand trail back down to your clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles as you hold his gaze. “Then show me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice almost a plea now. "I wanna see you."

Logan lets out a low, rumbling groan, his fingers making quick work of shoving his shorts down enough to free his cock. It springs free to slap lewdly against his stomach and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips at the sight.

He strokes himself slowly to start, his eyes locked on you, watching your every reaction, feeding off the way your chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths.

"Like this?" he asks, his tone taunting as he strokes himself from base to tip, his thumb swiping over the head with a low hiss. “That what you wanted?”

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, straining and in his hand. The sight of his thumb brushing over the tip of his cock sends a hot, electric pulse through your body, your hand between your legs moving in time with his slow strokes.

"Yeah," you whisper, voice trembling with need. "Just like that."

You slip your hand lower, sliding two fingers inside yourself with a low moan. Logan groans like he’s the one being touched, his hand speeds up, eyes glued to where your fingers disappear in your slick heat.

His cock leaks pre-come over his knuckles each time his fist passes over the dripping head, the wet sound of it mixing with the low hum of the fan and your own breathy sighs.

"You look so fuckin' good like this honey," Logan groans, his voice rough, strained. "All spread out, playing with that pretty pussy for me."

You whimper at his words, your body aching for more than just your own touch. You need him, need the feel of his rough hands on your skin, his mouth, his cock—anything.

Your fingers move faster, slipping deeper inside with each pump, but it’s still not enough. The stretch is nothing compared to taking Logan, to the feeling of him carving a place for his thick cock inside your pussy, hitting that spot inside you that your fingers can’t quite reach.

Your hips buck up towards your hand, your back arching off the chair as your free hand clutches the armrest tightly.

Logan’s pace quickens, his fist pumping his cock with a new urgency, heavy balls bouncing with every rough tug.

“God, look at you, such a needy fuckin’ thing” he growls, chest heaving as his gaze flicks between your flushed face and the glistening mess you’re making of yourself like he can’t decide where to look. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

"Please," you whine, desperation creeping into your voice. Too keyed up to draw this out any longer. “I need you inside me, Logan. I can’t take it anymore.”

Logan groans, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. His hand falters slightly on his cock, squeezing hard around the base as your words push him dangerously close to the edge. His jaw clenches, eyes raking over you, and with a growl, he stands. 

The last threads of his restraint snapping.

 He crosses the room in two long strides, towering over you where you sit. His cock swollen and hard, sways between his legs with every step, glistening with pre-come that drips to the floor. His eyes, hooded and burning, drink you in as he reaches down, yanking your hand away from your slick heat.

“Thought you said it was too hot to move,” you tease breathlessly, unable to quit egging him on even when your legs start to tremble with need, spreading wider to welcome him.

Logan ignores you, tugging your hand to his lips. Your breath catches in your chest, a weak moan escaping you as he takes your soaked fingers in his mouth. His tongue swirling along your skin to taste you, his eyes never leaving yours as he does.

“Changed my mind,” he growls, strong hands rough and possessive as they drop your wrist and haul you out of the chair so he can spin around, collapsing into it with you in his lap. The wood gives a warning creak beneath you but neither of you care.

Not when his mouth is on yours, hot and demanding as he slides his tongue past the seam of your lips. The heat radiating off his body is suffocating, but you welcome it—craving the weight of him on you.

You melt against him, feeling the hard planes of his body against yours, every inch of him alive and pulsating with need. Logan’s hands find their way to your hips, fingers digging in just enough to send a rush coursing through you.

It’s intoxicating, the way he devours you, his hands exploring every inch of your back, grasping and pulling you impossibly closer. 

The hard jut of his cock presses against your thigh, a thick plane of heat that makes your pussy throb with need. You shift your hips, grinding down on him in messy circles.

“You feel that?” he growls, lips brushing against your ear. “That’s all for you, darlin’.”

“Need you,” you whimper, grinding down against him faster, desperate for the friction that sends pleasure rippling through you. “Please, Logan, I need you inside me now.”

“Hold on, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, sending sparks all up your spine.

He dips his head, capturing your lips again, while his hands roam hungrily down your sides, fingers curling around your thighs to urge your legs open wider. “You wanna tease me, you’re gonna have to get off just like this.”

Logan angles his hips so that his cock slips between your drenched folds the next time you roll your own down.

The hot, slick glide sends electric shocks of pleasure racing through you, your body responding instinctively to his touch. You gasp against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair as you push down, desperate for more.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he growls, his voice dripping with lust as he watches your movements with hungry eyes. “Just for me, huh? She’s droolin’ just for me.”

You nod breathlessly, chasing the friction, craving the feel of him so close. You lift your hips and rock back down again, the blunt head of his cock brushing against your swollen clit, and you feel your body pulse in response. 

“More,” you plead, leaning in to nibble at his lower lip. “I need it.”

Logan pulls away, shaking his head with a wicked grin. “Come on, tough shot,” he says, giving your ass a quick smack and kneading the tender flesh in his hand roughly. “You’re gonna come like this, you can do it baby.”

You whine, dropping your chin to your chest. Your hands find his shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into the strong muscle. Your chest slips slickly against his, the front of your tank almost entirely soaked with sweat.

Yours or his, it doesn't matter. The white cotton turned transparent enough that your breasts are on full display, nipples hard and visible.

You watch a single bead of sweat make its way down the length of his throat. It trickles down and down and down until it dips between the pronounced muscles of his chest.

You duck your head, dragging your tongue up the valley of his pecs. A deep moan bursts from your lips, pussy drooling more slick over Logan’s cock at the coarse feel of his thick hair on your tongue, at the heady taste of his sweat filling your senses.

Logan groans, hands tightening their hold on your waist. The dull ache his strength leaves behind is enough to let you know that two hand shaped bruises will be blooming over your skin by tomorrow morning. 

“Come on, girly,” he encourages, nipping at the sweaty column of your throat, the sharp points of his teeth scraping along the sensitive skin deliciously. “Fuck me, give it to me good.”

Your hips speed up, his hard cock sliding through the slick folds of your cunt faster. The tip bumps against your clit deliciously with every move, smearing pre-come along the way to add even more to the mess between your legs.

“Gonna fuckin’ fill you up,” he groans, breath puffing warm and hot agasint the slick skin of your lips. “Pump you so full of my come you’ll be leakin’ for a goddamn week.”

He shifts underneath you, the tip of his cock catching on your entrance just enough for it to push inside on the next grind of your hips.

The barely there fullness has you coming with a sharp cry, nails roughly dragging down Logan’s back hard enough to leave red welts that heal as you go.

The pain mixing with the pleasure of finally getting to feel the warm, wet suction of your pussy has Logan coming with a rough shout of your name. He throws his head back, hands tightening their grip on your hips enough to have your bones grinding together as he pumps you full of his come. 

“Logan…” you mewl, your pussy fluttering over the tip of his cock, greedy little clenches like you're trying to suck him the rest of the way in. Drunk on the way his release paints your insides, how you can feel each thick spray coating your walls to claim you in the rawest way.

Logan pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and smoldering as he watches you squirm in his lap.

"You’re not tapping out on me already, are you?" he teases, his voice rough and gravelly. "I thought you were tougher than that."

A weak, breathy laugh escapes you, but it’s cut short when he applies just a little more pressure, making your thighs quiver. "Not tapping out," you manage between shallow breaths, your head falling back against the chair. "But you’re—fuck—you’re insatiable."

Logan smirks, leaning in to nip at the sensitive skin of your throat, his teeth scraping just enough to send shivers coursing through you.

"When it comes to you, baby?" he murmurs against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over your pulse point. "Fuckin’ always."

A lazily smile takes over your lips as you tighten your core and push, the rest of Logan’s come leaking out over his fingers. Logan groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder to try and ground himself.

His cock throbs where it sways heavily between his thighs, still hard and ready to go even after he just came. His hand slips down your body, thick fingers running through the creamy mess of come and slick to messily push it back inside you.

“Fuckin’ shit, honey,” he groans lowly, pressing his thumb to your clit. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

Before you can respond, he stands again, gently placing your trembling form back into the chair and dropping to his knees in front of you.

Your breath hitches, legs widening despite the way your pussy shakes with overstimulation, like you can’t help but spread your legs for Logan anytime he wants.

Logan smirks up at you from between your legs, his lips already ghosting over the inside of your thigh. "Look at you," he growls, voice low and filled with lust. "Still so needy."

The slick heat of his tongue runs along your folds, lapping at the mess he just made of you. You let out a sharp gasp, thighs trembling as your fingers weave into his hair, tugging him closer.

The sensation is overwhelming—the rough, demanding pace of his tongue as it swirls around your clit, teasing you, while his hands grip your thighs with bruising force. Keeping you exactly where he wants you, keeping you spread open for his tongue.

Your body arches off the chair with a loud cry, every nerve alight with raw pleasure as he feasts on you, his growls vibrating against your sensitive skin.

"Fuck! Logan," you moan breathlessly, head falling back as you try to keep up with the sensations he's pulling from you.

The heat that was pooling low in your belly reignites, stoked by the way his tongue flicks faster against your clit, each stroke sending you higher.

Logan doesn’t let up, his tongue delving deeper, drinking in every moan, every shaky gasp as he drives you closer to the edge. He moans into your pussy, his own arousal clear in the way his hips buck into the air, seeking any kind of friction.

You tug on his hair harder, desperate for more, for release. "Logan, please," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, thick with need.

"Atta’ girl," he rasps, his voice thick with desire as he watches your face contort with pleasure. "So fuckin’ pretty like this. You gonna give me another one, baby? Gonna come for me again?"

Every lick, every rough squeeze to your thighs, every teasing stroke sends you spiraling closer to that edge you’re dying to reach again. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his breath hot against your soaked skin and driving you wild.

“Logan, I—” You gasp, fingers tightening in his hair, urging him closer, closer, closer. “I’m so close—”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, nose and jaw glistening in your juices.

"Give it to me," he growls, the rough rasp of his voice sending a shiver through your overheated body. "I wanna feel you come on my tongue."

It’s all the encouragement you need. With a strangled cry, your body tenses, thighs quaking as the orgasm crashes over you.

Logan keeps his mouth on you, tongue working you through every pulse, drawing it out until you’re trembling and gasping, your body boneless in the chair.

When you finally come down, panting and spent, Logan pulls away. With one last kiss pressed over your clit, he makes his way up your body, not dropping eye contact as he settles over you.

His hand comes up to your face, thumbs meanly hooking into either side of your cheeks to gently force your mouth open. You part your lips willingly, the heat still radiating between you, a mix of lingering pleasure.

Logan leans in, and the intoxicating scent of sweat and sex surrounds you as he spits what he collected from between your legs back into your own mouth. 

Your cheeks burn with shame, a broken moan ringing through the space between you. Your glassy eyes stare into Logan’s, his own gaze so intense and all consuming you fight the urge to squirm.

"Swallow," he commands, unwavering. 

You hesitate for just a moment, caught off guard by the pure audacity, but the way his eyes darken with hunger makes your resolve crumble. With a breathless whimper, you obey, tasting the remnants of your own pleasure mingling with his, the act both humiliating and intensely arousing.

Logan watches you closely, his gaze never straying as you swallow, a dirty smirk creeping onto his lips. “That's my girl,” he praises, his tone thick with satisfaction.

As the taste lingers on your tongue, you can feel the weight of Logan’s stare like a physical touch.

“Think you can handle another round?” he teases, his voice low and sultry. “I don’t plan on letting you off that easy, kid. Not with all that mouthing off earlier.”

You catch your breath, shaking your head in exasperation. “You’re relentless,” you whisper, a hint of laughter in your voice, though your body betrays you, already craving more.

“Only for you, baby” he replies, brushing the strands of hair plastered to your sweaty forehead behind your ear. “Only for you.”

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini nat's note: i started my period today chickens...that explains it...

[allsteddie]

Steddie where Steve and Eddie find out their friends are running a betting pool on when the two of them are going to start dating.

Everybody is placing bets. Everybody.

(Hopper believes they’ll be together before Halloween, Joyce is betting on Thanksgiving. Karen Wheeler is betting on New Year’s eve.)

It’s Robin who lets the information slip, of course. Eddie is pissed, but Steve sees an opportunity there. What if they pretend they’re dating? Robin can place a new bet, they pretend they are a couple somewhere the Party can see them, then they get the money and split it between the three of them.

“How much money are we talking about?” Eddie asks.

“Last time I checked, five hundred dollars. But I think Erica, Nancy and Will placed new bets last week, so it’s probably more now. Dustin is the one in charge of the money.”

“Of course he is.”

Robin ends up placing a bet on Steve and Eddie getting together in less than a month. Dustin is surprised when she tells him that, and also suspicious about Robin’s change of heart; her last bet had been they wouldn’t be together until next year.

“They’re worse than ever, kid,” she justifies when Dustin questions her about it. “Last night we were watching a movie at Steve’s and he spent the whole night basically on Eddie’s lap. I thought he was gonna start purring because Eddie kept petting his hair like he was a giant cat. There’s no way they’re taking too long now; they are not that dumb.”

Dustin could argue but ends up accepting Robin’s excuse. The bet is placed and she gets back to Eddie’s to inform her friends her part on the plan is done.

“Now you have a month to decide how you’re gonna do this,” she says before leaving those two to their shenanigans.

But that’s not a problem, they already know how they’re gonna get that money.

There’s a carnival coming to Hawkins in two weeks, and there’s no way the kids won’t be there, stuffing their faces with enough greasy food that would make a normal person sick to their stomach and wasting their money on games.

Two weeks and a half later, Dustin tries to bully Steve into taking him, Lucas and Max to the carnival. Steve makes up a whole story about his parents being in town and throwing a dinner party they’re forcing Steve to attend. Dustin then asks Eddie and Eddie just says no, giving the kid no other excuse. It’s Jonathan and Nancy who end up taking the whole party.

It’s a Friday night when they finally put their plan into action. Steve picks Eddie up for their “date” around six, and they head to the carnival. If Robin’s info is right, the kids should arrive a little over half an hour later, so they have time to prepare before their little scheme starts.

They walk around for a few minutes, looking for a place where they can have a clear view of the entrance, so they can see when the kids arrive. They stay close to the food stall because it’s perfectly placed a few yards from the ticket booth, and Eddie can also stuff his own face with greasy food while they wait.

A corndog and half a funnel cake later, Steve catches sight of El and Max walking ahead of the rest of the group, the boys following.

“Come on, it’s time,” Steve says offering his hand.

Eddie takes it without a second thought, smiling with his mouth still full of cake. “Let’s do this, sweetheart.”

They stay a few more moments there as Eddie finishes off his food, until they are sure the kids have spotted them. Then it’s show time.

Hand in hand, the two of them explore the stands. Eddie spends a good fifteen minutes trying to win a prize for Steve, just for Steve to win it in his first try. They go on a few rides (the very cliché ones every couple always go when they’re on dates), stop by the food stall again so they can share some cotton candy. They do all this hand in hand, only letting go when they really need to.

The kids follow them around the entire time, just like Eddie and Steve knew they would.

After almost an hour of this, they come to the conclusion that they’ve been convincing enough and it’s time for them to get their money. Eddie pulls Steve towards a more secluded area, rounding some stands and walking towards the parking lot until they leave all the noise and light from the carnival behind.

When they are sure there’s no one else around, they stop and Eddie crowds Steve against the closest car.

“Can you see them?” he whispers in Steve’s ear, resting his hands on the guy’s hips.

“Yeah. They’re hiding behind the green truck. Dustin and Mike are shoving each other and arguing, but the others are paying attention.”

“Good.” That’s all Eddie says before he kisses Steve.

That’s a point in their plan they discussed thoroughly. How far did they need to go to get their hands on that money? How far were they willing to go? Eddie was okay with whatever, but he had no idea about Steve.

“Dude, Dustin is not giving Robin any money if we only hold hands or hug. Kissing is the safest way.”

Still, Eddie didn’t want things to be weird between them after everything. They talked a lot until they finally agreed on one kiss, just for show, so there was no doubt they were together. They’d hang out for a few days after. They’d show up together to pick up Dustin when the kid asked, Steve would make a point to visit Eddie at the trailer park so Max could see them too. Robin would get the money; they would split it between them. Then they’d break up amicably. And when the kids asked, they’d just say it didn’t work out, that they were better off as friends.

That’s the plan they came up with; a very solid plan in their opinion.

That is until the time comes and they finally kiss.

When Eddie’s lips touch his, Steve’s whole body comes alive. Goosebumps run down his arms, and he feels a spark right down his spine. Eddie’s hands on his hips feel like brands and Steve gasps, shocked, as his senses go haywire.

It’s too much and not enough. Steve’s heart is hammering, his brain working like crazy to process what the hell is happening there. But, then, Eddie is pulling him closer and deepening the kiss and Steve is gone, gone, gone; hands burying into Eddie’s hair as he kisses him back with everything he’s got.

Neither Steve nor Eddie sees the kids leave, cursing and complaining about their lost money. They’re just too busy to notice.

[parkers-gal]

my girl J.B.

pairing: bucky x avengers!reader (f)

trope: oblivious x thought they’ve been dating all along :)

warnings: none

wc: 1k

a/n: requests are open (for bucky). pls send prompts!

═══════════ ⋆★⋆ ═══════════

you’re in a pickle. as you sit with natasha and wanda on the floor of wanda’s room, you listen as nat tells the two of you about her earlier conversation with bucky. 

“he said we were dating?” you were confused. bucky had never asked you to be his girlfriend, but you had gone on a couple dates and hung out around the compound all the time. you were too nervous to make any moves, but it seemed bucky was on a completely different page altogether.

“basically” natasha confirmed. “he told me he already had plans for saturday with his ‘girl.’”

“oh.” 

wanda giggles at your perplexed state. “maybe you’ve been stressing over nothing this whole time, then.”

“but he never asked me.”

“maybe it was different back then?”

“cmon wanda, it’s not like he said we’re going steady like its the 40s. i feel like he knows about labels.” you sigh. you’ve been worried these last few weeks that bucky wasn’t going to ask you to be his girlfriend – maybe the two of you didn’t hit it off as well as you thought. but then he would take you on more dates, and you’d spend all day doing things around the compound that it felt like you already were girlfriend and boyfriend. 

“maybe he thought he already asked you.”

you sat with that for a moment. maybe he thought he did? you had no idea, and later into the night it got, the more confused you became. you nodded at the two girls, exchanging goodnights and making your way back to your room. 

═══════════ ⋆★⋆ ═══════════

by the time you got to the kitchen for breakfast, steve, sam, and bucky had already returned from a morning run, and wanda was cooking eggs at the stove with vision.

“goodmorning y/n,” steve smiles at you.

you return the sentiment and rub the sleep from your eyes. you make eye contact with bucky and try not to stumble as you reach up for a mug in one of the cabinets. as you reach from your toes, bucky’s metal hand finds your waist and he engulfs you from behind, his other hand grabbing your favorite mug.

“let me get that for you, peaches.”

you try not to flush.

steve smiles at the interaction, continuing his conversation with sam. after bucky sets your mug on the counter, he gives the top of your head a small kiss and makes his way back over to steve. you wonder if steve smiled at the two of you because he thinks you’re dating. if bucky thought the two of you were official, why would his best friend think any differently? 

you let it go for the moment, filling your mug and grabbing a plate for the eggs wanda just made for you. 

“have you asked him?” she whispers.

you purse your lips, “no,” you shrug a little. “i don’t even know what to ask him.”

“ask who, what?” sam interjects.

wanda and you both turn your heads to look at him from across the kitchen island, and steve and bucky stop their conversation to watch. 

“i- uhm…” you don’t know what to say. 

luckily, you don’t have to think of a response because bucky speaks up. “wilson, are you pestering my girl?”

wanda nudges your side with her elbow, a gesture that you know means i’ve got your back. “your girl, huh?”

bucky blushes, poorly suppressing a sheepish grin. steve chuckles at bucky’s change in demeanor. 

“well, yeah, she’s my girl.”

“i am?”

bucky’s brows furrow in confusion and for a moment, a flicker of hurt flashes in his eyes. “do you not want to be?”

you bite the inside of your lip, nervous to confess this so publicly. “truthfully i didn’t even know i was your girl.”

“oh.”

the kitchen is silent for a moment. sam waits to hear what bucky has to say, or if you have something else to add to explain the situation.

your foot lightly hits the ground. you’re fidgeting; only bucky can make you this nervous with butterflies. “that doesn’t mean i don’t want to be.”

bucky perks up and he nods, finally getting the misunderstanding between you two. 

sam’s laugh breaks the silence. “you’re such an idiot.” he grabs an apple and pats bucky’s back on the way out, steve following right behind him, their voices fading as they get farther down the hallway. 

bucky grabs his own mug and pours himself some coffee while you sit at the island and silently eat your eggs. wanda and vision eventually clean up their dishes and head off to some training task, leaving you alone in the kitchen with bucky. 

as you put your plate in the sink, he asks “did you really not know you’re my girl?”

you run the faucet, not wanting to look at him because it’ll make you more nervous. “you never asked me.”

his flesh hand dances on your hip, spinning you around to face him. “okay…” you glance between his eyes and his lips, settling on his eyes. he mirrors your actions. “then… do you want to be my girl, y/n?”

“i-” you twiddle your fingers, hand at your side. he has you pinned against the counter. 

“gonna give me an answer, peaches? or just leave me hanging?” he’s teasing you, face getting closer with each new quip. his nose practically touches yours. 

at last, you breathe out a quiet “yes,” and bucky chuckles at you.

“can i kiss you, peaches?”

too speechless to say it, you nod, his metal hand reaching to cup your face. his lips connect with yours and it’s electrifying. your stomach flips and you get so caught up that you grip his henley, afraid that you’ll collapse with how lovestruck he has you. when he sucks on your bottom lip, you let out another gasp and you feel bucky’s lips turn up in a smirk as he pulls away. 

still cupping your face, he smiles at you. you smile back, saying something that has bucky’s eyes glinting with pride. 

“can you kiss me again?”

[cherrysinner]

─ FIRST LOVE THEORY ♥︎

...or rafe reuniting with his ex-wife.

♥︎ pairing .ᐟ ex-husband!rafe x red rose!reader

♥︎ summary .ᐟ reader goes over to her ex-husband's house when she finds out he introduced their son to his new girlfriend. rafe has a better idea for what they could do instead of arguing.

♥︎ warnings/tags .ᐟ smut! MDNI. cheating, unprotected piv, breeding kink. wc: 2.7k

♥︎ author's note .ᐟ first fic on my 3k celebration!!! i hope you guys like it <3 i have to wake up in six hours… 😭

3K MASTERLIST ♡ RAFE MASTERLIST

there's a theory that claims that men never get over their first love; that they're always going to be thinking about her, dream of her, mumbling her name in their sleep...

and if you wanted to prove said theory wrong, rafe cameron was the wrong person to go to; no matter what the occasion was, he would abandon it all for her if she called; anything for his first love.

you had been dating rafe since sophomore year of high school, starting to go out just days after you moved to the island. your family lived in a small, run-down house on the so-dubbed poor side of the island. even if your family couldn't afford much, they put all the money they had just so you could attend kildare academy.

when you started dating and he finally introduced you to his friends, you could see it in the eyes of every one of rafe's friends; they all looked down on you simply because you didn't come from money. one time while you'd been at a party rafe was hosting, you could hear his friends whisper about you, talking shit. saying how he was probably just dating you because you let him fuck you whenever, or how he pitied you.

that was the first time you two broke up; and a few days after, rafe came knocking at your door with a bouquet of flowers and a well-practiced apology prepared.

after that? you two pretty much became the most notorious on-and-off couple on the whole island. it was like every other week, you and rafe broke up, got back together, and broke up again. one moment, you'd be all over each other; the next moment, you were all over each other in a completely different way. the problem was, as you got older, your situation stayed the same.

you parked your car in front of the house rafe was living in; the bastard had gone and introduced the woman he was dating to your son without asking you, without even saying a word. you slammed your car door closed, your heeled knee-high boots clacking against the concrete.

"rafe!" you shouted, banging the side of your fist against the wooden door, the wreath hung up on the door shaking with the force of your punches "rafe fucking cameron, i need to talk to you!"

rafe pulled opened the door, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed, "what the hell do you want now? child support not come through?" the man scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"why the fuck did you introduce some bitch to theo without mentioning it to me?" you pushed him, your ex-husband stumbling backwards, "do you not know common sense? i told you, i don't want you to introduce any of your sluts to him before asking me first."

"you introduced your damn boyfriend to him when i told you not to!"

"rafe, i've told you a million times, will is not my boyfriend; we've been married for a year." you let out an annoyed scoff, "and that's completely different. you told me not to introduce him to a guy i had been with for a year and was getting married to, meanwhile i'm telling you not to introduce him to your third girlfriend of the month."

"can you shut the hell up? i'm not some fucking town bicycle." you followed rafe into the living room, watching as your ex-husband poured whiskey into a glass. you watch as he downs the glass, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, continuing to pour more amber liquid into the glass, turning to you, "i'll have you know, sofia and i have been exclusive for three months now."

"well, that's basically as good as marriage when it comes to you." you let out a small scoff, "i don't want you to introduce our son to anyone i don't know, rafe." you grabbed the glass of whiskey from him, downing the liquid, burning as it went down your throat. you slammed the glass onto the tray, pointing a manicured nail at him, your engagement ring and wedding band glimmering under the light. "don't fuck with me. not when it comes to him."

"you're so fuckin' selfish." rafe scoffs, throwing his hands in the air "he's my son too, you have no right to tell me what i can and can't do!"

"i've got a custody agreement that says i do." you narrow your eyes, poking him in the chest, "if you do shit like that again, i'm calling my lawyer."

"you've gotta be kidding me." rafe shook his head in disbelief, a bitter laugh leaving his lips as he brought his face closer to yours, gritting his teeth, "you're gonna try and change our custody agreement because of this? there's no way you're that much of a vindictive bitch."

"you really must not know me," you scoff as you look up at him, your eyes narrowed and your voice low, "because if you did, you'd know that that's exactly how much of a vindictive bitch i am." you stared into each other's eyes, your heavy breaths mingling together. rafe's jaw was clenched, his steely eyes focused on nothing but you.

his lips crashed against yours.

his hands were in your hair, tangled in the strands, tugging on them only to bring you closer to him; his lips were devouring you, a clash of lips, teeth, tongue; and even though you tried to pull away at first, it was like every time he got his hands on you, you melted. every time rafe kissed you, it felt like you were clay and he was molding you into yourself.

your back hit the solid wall behind you, and rafe let out a slight groan when his hands wrapped around under your thighs, and you hopped into his arms, your hands around the back of his neck as rafe held you against the wall. his hands trailed up to cup your ass, the hem of your skirt now all bunched up, your ex gripping the fat of your ass.

rafe carried you into the bedroom you used to share with him like you weighed nothing, dumping you onto the bed and causing your body to bounce on it slightly. grinning up at him, you took your dress off, the blonde looking at your body up and down, cocking his head to the side.

"you wore red?" rafe tsked, referring to the lingerie set you were wearing, a wine-red one, a color you knew rafe loved on you, having ruined many a set while you were together, "you should've just said you wanted to fuck."

you bit your lip when rafe finally took off his shirt, revealing a set of abs you'd caressed, kissed, licked, more times that you could count. his long fingers made work of his belt buckle, swiftly pulling his belt off. he snapped it once before throwing it to the side.

his pants were off, the outline of rafe's hard cock visible through his white calvin kleins. you rubbed your legs together, your nipples hard and straining against your bra. "you gonna come here, or do i need to come and getcha?"

rafe shook his head with a chuckle, and at his words, his body was on yours, grinding against you. a gasp left your lips as you felt his erection against your clothed cunt, and you could feel your arousal starting to form a wet patch in your lacy panties. his lips trailed down your jawline as his hands trailed down the strap of your bra, the man letting out a chuckle against your skin, the words he mumbled against your neck causing vibrations to run down your spine. "let's get this pesky thing off, huh?"

you arched your back off the bed, and rafe's long fingers darted to the clasp of your bra, swiftly unclasping it and throwing it to the floor with the rest of your clothes. within seconds, his lips were on your nipple, licking on the hard bud before his lips wrapped around it, sucking on it in a way that made you to arch into his touch, gasps of pure pleasure leaving your lips.

one of his hands slid into the waistband of your panties, bringing hid middle finger to your clit and pressing on it, making you mewl as your hand found his hair, tugging on it slightly. rafe groaned against your nipple, causing a wave of shivers to run down your spine as his finger lazily rolled around your clit.

"please..." you whined, and rafe let out a small chuckle against your nipple before releasing it with a pop!

his lips started to trail down your body, pressing kisses from between your breasts, down your belly button, continuing all the way until his lips made contact with the waistband of your panties.

"please what?" rafe asked as he started to press kisses on your panty-covered pussy, getting closer and closer to the wet little patch that was now decorating them.

"take them off..." you mewled, your hands grasping the sheets underneath you. rafe pressed a small kiss right over your clit, accompanying it with a teasing lick, before his long fingers finally tightened around the waistband of your panties.

"look at that." rafe huffed in a way that resembled a laugh, and as you looked down, you could see a large patch on the inside of your panties. you scrunched up your nose and looked away, making him let out another chuckle as you hid your face in your hands, "you're so cute when you're embarrassed, baby..." he cooed mockingly, throwing your panties to the side. "there's nothing to be embarrassed about. we both know you get soaked within seconds when it comes to me."

rafe licked a stripe up your slit, making sure to slightly suckle on your clit, a moan leaving your lips, your back arching off the bed you used to share with him. he moved himself up, until his face was over yours. when rafe placed a small, dazing kiss on your lips, you licked your lips, tasting yourself; he always loved doing that; always loved to make it known that only he could have such an effect on you.

the blonde grinned as he tugged his boxers down, gripping the shaft and moving his cock so the tip of it was pressing against your clit, drawing tiiiiny circles of it as if it was another 'funny' game he liked to play with you.

"come on...!" you whined, smacking his shoulders, "i need you..."

"what's wrong, sweetie?" rafe cooed mockingly, cocking his head to the side and narrowing his eyes, "your husband not enough for you?"

your eyes flit to the engagement ring and the wedding band on your ring finger, but the feeling of rafe's cock drawing circles on your needy, throbbing clit, before they looked back into his blue eyes that were mostly overtaken by the black of his pupil.

"please..." you looked at him through your lashes, pouting at rafe. he let out a slight chuckle, moving his shaft down to your entrance, "this what you want?" he asked, pressing a peck on your lips that felt like he was ridiculing you; but your body didn't care; all it cared about was having him inside of it. now.

"yes..." you whispered, "please..."

you felt the mushroom tip of rafe's cock finally enter into you, and even that was enough for a small smile to twitch up your lips; you knew it was pathetic, you knew that this wasn't something you should be doing but "aaaaaaahhhh-" as he sunk his cock deeper into you, you couldn't resist.

and before you were prepared for it, rafe had forced himself all the way into you, the tip of his cock hitting the sweet spot inside of you as you gasped for air, pressing your eyes closed in a way that brought tears to your eyes.

"tell me who you belong to..." he growled, his lips pressed against your neck as he pulled his cock almost entirely out of you, only leaving a tiny bit of it at your entrance.

"rafe..."

"tell me." rafe grabbed your thigh, hoisting your leg up onto his shoulder so he could get even deeper inside of you, "tell me, who you belong to."

"i..." you whisper, your eyes fluttering open, eyelashes wet with tears, "i belong to you, rafe..."

and as he pistoned his cock into you, you couldn't help but throw your head back, your eyes closed, the tears stuck to your lashes ruining your eye makeup.

when rafe's hand slowly made it's way to your pussy, you could tell that he was close; your ex was a sucker for having you both come at the same time. rafe started drawing lazy circles on your clit as he continued to plunge his cock in and out of you, hitting you right where you needed him, and that combined with his thumb on your clit was making the pressure in your abdomen grow, and grow, and grow...

"i'm gonna fuck another baby into you..." rafe mumbled into your ear, "always wanted a big family..." his thrusts grew quicker to the point that you were having a difficult time keeping up with him, "gonna give you a second baby..." his thumb's pace on your clit quickened, "tell me you want it... c'mon, baby..."

your brain wanted to tell him no, but it was as if your heart and your body were in control, every inch of them screaming out the answer that left your lips.

"yes!" you screamed out, "yes, rafe, yes!"

you could feel your cunt clenching around him, moaning out rafe's name as your orgasm washed over you, every part of your body blissed out, until a sense of clarity hit you, and although you tried to shove rafe off you, you couldn't do so, feeling as warm ropes of his thick cum started painting the walls of your slick cunt white.

as rafe got down off his high, he let out a small chuckle as he pulled his cock out of you, the slightly pinkening inches of him soaked in a white mixture of you and him, only for him to shove the cum that was dripping out of you back into you, making you let out another gasp.

rafe laughed as he pulled his fingers out of your hole, bringing them to your mouth. "taste." and you knew; it wasn't a request, it was a command. and so you did.

some moments went by and you were nuzzled in rafe's arms, the both of you content and satisfied as you laid under the blankets, rafe smelling the raspberry-scented shampoo you always wore with a smile on his face; he hoped that your scent would linger; your shampoo, body wash, perfume; he hoped it'd all just... be there, in his bedsheets, forever.

you took the picture frame off the nightstand, and you saw exactly what you were expecting; a picture of you and rafe kissing only moments after you said i do; rafe in his ridiculously expensive tuxedo and you in your custom vera wang wedding dress, your ex-husband having told you that you didn't only deserve the best; you needed it. as you traced the hem of your wedding dress, rafe let out a chuckle, and you couldn't help but turn to him with your brows furrowed, "what?"

"it's just..." rafe brought his hand to rest over yours, his finger right where yours was, trailing your hem, "this kind of reminds me of how i bunched up this dress around your waist a little bit before the wedding..." his icy blue eyes turned to you, "and how i did the same with your most recent wedding dress, and fucked you. what was it you wore to your wedding with will?" he pretended to ponder, "valentino?"

you looked up at him your eyes narrowing, "you can never tell him this happened."

"don't worry, baby." rafe's hand detached from the frame as he cooed mockingly, going to trace your cheekbone with his long, ringed fingers, "i'm sure he can figure it out when your baby ends up looking nothing like him."

♥︎ author's note .ᐟ thinking of writing a fic about rafe and reader on her wedding day... lmk if you want that.

[avaricefics]

the winner takes it all | kimi antonelli social media au

| Kimi Antonelli x fem!reader

| Fans are starting to believe that Kimi's girlfriend, Y/n L/n, is a bad luck charm at races- he happily proves them wrong

| This is my first ever smau, so I'm still learning all the formatting and such. Please be patient!

f1updates

f1updates Kimi Antonelli's girlfriend, Y/n L/n, posted on her story about arriving to the Canadian Grand Prix. The last time she went to watch a Grand Prix live, at the Spanish Grand Prix, Antonelli DNFed. Should Mercedes fans be scared of a bad luck charm in the garage this weekend?

comments

user1 Still not over Spanish GP... maybe Y/n actually is bad luck lol

user2 the more you think about it the more it makes sense

-> user3 Her first in person GP since Kimi was in F2 and he DNFs...

user4 Always said he shouldn't have dated her

real life

You scrolled through your phone, barely blinking as all the hateful comments and mean words flashed past on the screen. You should be used to the hate, having dated Kimi since his F2 days, but it still made no sense to you. These people didn't even know you, and yet they thought they could say whatever they wanted about Kimi and your's relationship.

You tried not to let it phase you, you tried to pretend like it didn't hurt each time someone on the internet called you a 'terrible girlfriend' or a 'bad luck charm'. Formula 1 was Kimi's dream, and you hated the thought of ruining it with your own selfish insecurities.

It also bothered you how much the fans looked down on you for missing so many grand prixs at the beginning of the season. You hadn't meant to, but your older sister had given birth prematurely to triplets a couple weeks before the season started, and you had stayed at your family home in Italy to help out for those difficult first months.

Kimi supported you fully, of course. He understood the need to stick with your family, and help them when they needed it. Between races, he had even stopped by the house to help with the triplets himself.

You and Kimi had both been so excited for the Spanish Grand Prix, but clearly that didn't turn out so well. And honestly? With how much hate you were getting for attending the Canadian Grand Prix, you were half-tempted to fly back across the ocean to Italy to help change diapers.

You scrolled past another negative post, one that wondered why Kimi would date you if you were so basic looking. You shut off your phone and resisted the urge to chuck it against the wall.

"What's wrong, vita mia?" Kimi called from the other room of the hotel, noticing you despondently laying starfished across the bed. You couldn't help but smile at the Italian nickname.

"Just stupid people on the internet," you replied. Kimi walked out of the other room, holding a leftovers box with spaghetti and meatballs that he had been warming up in the hotel microwave. Even if the spaghetti wasn't as good as authentic Italian pasta, it reminded both of them of home just a bit.

"Are you looking at the bad luck posts again?" Kimi asked, upset. He hated that there were people who called themselves his fans who treated his girlfriend so cruelly. You nodded.

Seeing your face, Kimi didn't say anything, but instead set the leftovers down on the bedside table and sat down on the edge of the bed, his body angled towards you. You sat up, scooching towards Kimi so you could rest your head on his shoulder as both of you leaned back on the pillows.

"I'm sorry this is happening," Kimi said softly. "I got so caught up in my own dream, I hardly payed attention to the toll it was taking on you to be there, too."

"It's not that," you said, trying to think of a good way to describe how you felt. "I love supporting you, and getting to be a part of that dream. I just... wasn't prepared for the fans to not want me to be a part of it."

"Oh, carissima," Kimi whispered. He pulled you closer to him with his right arm, and rested his head on top of yours. You didn't even realize that tears had started to fall until he reached up to brush them away.

"I love you," you spoke quietly. "I love you, and it sucks that people don't see that."

"I love you too." Kimi reached over your side to grab the leftover pasta, handing you a fork and taking one for himself. "I'll fix this, amore. I promise."

kimi.antonelli

liked by yourusername, mercedesamgf1, user74 and 134, 092 others

kimi.antonelli Y/n and I have been together for years, and I am shocked and horrified to see with my own eyes people who call themselves my 'fans' turning against her. We love each other, in sickness and in health, in the happiness and in the hurting, and through both good fortune and bad luck.

Anyone who doesn't see that and respect our relationship, and my girlfriend, isn't a real fan by any means.

comments

yourusername <3

comments restricted on this post

yourusername

liked by kimi.antonelli, georgerussel63, user10 and 184, 309 others

yourusername Mercedes 1-3 at the 2025 Canadian Grand Prix! I'm so incredibly proud, congratulazioni a entrambi! Let's go Kimi!!! (Something something bad luck charm... yeah, right. My boy is too good for luck :))

comments

georgerussel63 I see how it is... you get P1 and not even a picture

-> yourusername Gotta support the bf

->kimi.antonelli I'm her favorite 😇

->yourusername That too

[cressidagrey]

Through The Looking Glass

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Lea Willems - Verstappen (OC)

Summary: Max Verstappen and his wife’s relationship as told by Twitter. 

Notes: So this came about, because I was on Instagram and looked at pictures from Alexandra Saint Mleux and was like…so what if a driver’s girlfriend looked more like me and less like her? 

Then it became a whole thing, and I went down a rabbit’s hole about people online boyshaming athletes’ wives and girlfriends. This is the result. Also, it’s incredible difficult to even find aesthetic pictures to use in a smau that depict women that are even just mid-size, not even plus size. As a in-between girlie, I tried my best.  

(Also I finally made a nice Lea 😂 I know somebody who will be very glad about that.)

Warnings: The internet being a horrible place. Nikita Mazepin bashing, but like…he is canonically a horrible person, so is it even bashing? Bodyshaming, fatphobic comments and the media being horrible. If I missed something, please let me know. 

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

@/gridarchives: The most underrated long game in F1 history is how everyone thought Max Verstappen’s marriage wouldn’t last. 

How Max and Lea Verstappen went from “mad max mistake” to “paddock’s power couple”. A thread: 

@/gridarchives: Let’s start with the basics: Max Emilian Verstappen, born 30 September 1997 in Hasselt, raised in Maaseik, Belgium. Lea Willems, born 12 April 1997, raised in Maaseik. 

@/gridarchives: They met as kids. Both came from racing families — Lea’s older brother ran the local karting rink where Max used to train. They were inseparable. They met at 8. Were dating by 14. Married at 18.

@/gridarchives: 2015 — Max’s F1 debut. Lea’s still in school. Doesn’t follow him to every race. Doesn't start an Instagram. Doesn’t chase a spotlight.

They do long-distance. Quietly.

And when he gets his first victory in 2016, she’s the one waiting in the garage. Not in the VIP suite. Just… there.

@/gridarchives:  max is 18. Fresh off a win in Barcelona. Deep in his Mad Max era—aggressive on track, icy in interviews, throwing elbows and collecting penalties like candy.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, He marries his high school girlfriend.

And announced it on Instagram: 

@/gridarchives:  Red Bull had no idea. Reportedly, Christian Horner found out when the rest of the world did.

 Max showed up to the next debrief wearing a ring.

 When asked about it, he just shrugged and said, “We got married.” Like it was no big deal.

@/gridarchives:  Cue chaos. The media ripped it apart.

“Too young.” “Too fast.” “Is she pregnant?” “He’s ruining his focus.” Lea was called everything from clingy to irrelevant. She never said a word in response.

@/gridarchives: The Internet:

“This won’t last” “teenage hormones” “he’s too immature” “What is he even doing getting married?” “career suicide” “She’s just a karting fling, right?”

@/gridarchives:  After the announcement, the backlash wasn’t just about the when. It became about the who.

 The internet took one look at Lea Willems — now Lea Verstappen — and collectively lost its mind.

And not in a good way.

@/gridarchives: She didn’t look like what people expected. She wasn’t tall and wafer-thin. Wasn’t a size 0. She didn’t wear designer brands. She wasn’t a model, or a socialite, or someone famous in her own right. Wasn’t doing sponsored beauty campaigns or sitting front row at fashion week. She was a normal teenage girl who had the audacity to exist beside the fastest boy in the world. And that wasn’t enough for some people.

@/gridarchives: They called her fat.

They called her plain.

They called her a phase. 

They called her “a distraction.” They said she was “a mistake made by a hormonal teenager.”

@/gridarchives: Some actual headlines from 2017:

“The Wife Verstappen Doesn’t Want You to Know About” Like she was a scandal, not a person.

“Not Exactly A Model Marriage” “Can Verstappen Do Better Off Track?” “Too Much Wife, Not Enough Wow”

because she wasn’t a size 0, because she didn’t wear makeup, because she had hips and curves and didn’t fit the “WAG” mould.

@/gridarchives: It wasn’t just tabloids.

Comment sections. Fan forums. Reddit threads.

People picked apart her weight, her clothes, and her posture. Zoomed in on photos to circle “problem areas.” Compared her side-by-side with other girlfriends in the paddock like it was a contest.

@/gridarchives:  And she never defended herself. Not once. She didn’t clap back. Didn’t give an interview. Didn’t even post a Notes app statement. She just stayed by his side. Quiet. Steady. Private. Which, of course, only made them nastier.

@/gridarchives:  Comment sections were disgusting. Fashion blogs ripped her apart. Paddock gossip accounts used blurred photos of her in jeans and sneakers with headlines like:

“This is the woman who tamed F1’s hottest young star?” It was sexist. It was fatphobic. It was constant.

@/gridarchives: Two headlines from 2017:

“Not Quite Paddock-Ready: The Woman Behind Verstappen’s Downfall” Another: “The Weight of Love: Can Max Stay Focused With Her Around?”

It was cruel. Dehumanizing. And relentless.

@/gridarchives:  She wasn’t flashy. She didn’t care about glam paddock fashion. She wore baggy Red Bull hoodies and old Adidas. She didn’t post bikini pics. She didn’t post at all. She still doesn’t even have an Instagram account.  And for some reason, that made people furious.

@/gridarchives:  And it all came to a head in Malaysia. 2017. Max won his second career race. It was one of his best weekends. And then… that interview happened.

@/gridarchives: The interviewer, midway through what was supposed to be a fluff piece, decided to get clever.

“Now that you're a more high-profile name, have you ever thought of… upgrading the wife situation a bit?”

“I mean, she’s not exactly the grid’s most glamorous, is she?”

@/gridarchives:  Max went completely still. Didn’t blink. Didn’t smile. Didn’t speak. The silence lasted a full 5 seconds—uncomfortable, searing.

Then he stood up. Took off the mic. And walked out.

Didn’t say a word.

@/gridarchives:  Red Bull PR went into meltdown. The outlet tried to backpedal, claiming it was a joke. But Max? He was done. Hasn’t given that outlet a single interview since. Won’t speak to that journalist. Won’t allow access. Nothing. Complete blackout.

@/gridarchives:  When asked about it later, he said only: “I’ve tolerated a lot of things in this sport. Insults. Pressure. Hate. But you don’t get to insult my wife. Ever.”

And that was that.

@/gridarchives:  For nearly three years afterwards, Max refused to answer any questions about Lea. No interviews. No comments. If asked, he would shut it down with the same two words:

“No comment.” Sometimes cold. Sometimes biting. Always final.

@/gridarchives:  At one point in 2018, a reporter tried to ask about Lea’s “lack of media polish” during a press conference. Max didn’t flinch. Just stared them down and said: “Keep my wife’s name out of your mouth.” The room went silent.

@/gridarchives:  He wasn’t just protecting her—he was making a point. If the world couldn’t treat her with basic respect, it didn’t get to know her.

@/gridarchives:  Max Verstappen might be aggressive on track. But when it comes to her? He’s pure protection. No compromise. No apology.

@/gridarchives: Till this day, Max rarely posts about Lea on his Instagram.  And when he does, he shuts the comments off. Not for the attention. Not for the aesthetic. But because the internet has never deserved her.

@/gridarchives:  Once a year. Maybe twice. Usually on her birthday. Or their anniversary. Or something small and intimate—like a quiet photo of her walking ahead of him, holding their son’s hand, not even looking at the camera.

@/gridarchives: And the comments? Disabled. Every time.

 Not to avoid backlash. But to cut it off before it starts.

@/gridarchives: A fan once asked in a Q&A why he disables comments.

Max said, “Because she didn’t ask for this. And if you’re going to look at her, you’ll do it with respect. Or not at all.”

@/gridarchives: He protects her like he protects his lead on the final lap— With focus. With fire. With zero margin for error.

Because that’s love, in Max Verstappen’s language.

Not public declarations. But boundaries.

@/gridarchives: And then came one of the wildest moments of the 2021 season that never made Drive to Survive:  

@/gridarchives:  mid-2021. Tensions are sky-high. Max and Lewis are locked in one of the most intense title battles in F1 history. Every race is war. Every point counts. And through all of it, Lea is quietly there. Present. Steady. Visibly keeping her distance from the media.

@/gridarchives:  But as the summer break ends, rumours start. Whispers online. Tabloids are posting unflattering shots of Lea in the paddock. Comments like:

“Max’s wife letting herself go?” “Not paddock pretty.” “What happened to her figure?” And then… Nikita Mazepin opens his mouth.

@/gridarchives:  Overheard at a hospitality lounge, according to multiple sources: Mazepin, laughing with some junior sponsor rep, said: “No wonder Max is driving angry. Imagine going home to that every night.” Gesturing toward Lea.

Someone told Max.

@/gridarchives:  That weekend, Max cornered Mazepin. Not at the press. Not on camera. But behind the motorhomes. Multiple witnesses said you could hear him yelling. But the only quote that’s ever been confirmed?

“Talk about her again, and I’ll end your career before your car does.”

@/gridarchives:  Mazepin reportedly tried to laugh it off. Max didn’t flinch. Didn’t joke. Just turned and walked away—straight back to Red Bull. Team management never commented.

@/gridarchives: And then came the Instagram post: 

@/gridarchives:  The internet went feral. F1 media tried to scramble for quotes. But Max didn’t say another word. Not about the incident. Not about the pregnancy. He just showed up at the next race and put the car on pole.

@/gridarchives: And then? Abu Dhabi 2021. The title fight went down to the wire. 

@/gridarchives: According to multiple team sources, Lea stood quietly at the back of the garage the entire race. Didn’t pace. Didn’t panic. Just watched. Hands on her baby bump. When asked if she was nervous, she reportedly said:

“Why would I be? He was born for this.”

@/gridarchives:  A Red Bull mechanic was overheard saying, “I’ve seen engineers cry. I’ve seen Horner nearly faint. But Lea? Lea stood there like it was a normal Thursday.”

@/gridarchives:  When Nicholas Latifi crashed and the safety car came out, most of the paddock erupted into chaos. Lea? Sat down. Ate half a banana. Said, “He’ll take it. You’ll see.” Then leaned back like she knew something the universe didn’t.

@/gridarchives:  After the race, everyone was losing their minds. Celebrating. Crying. Lea? Still calm. Still glowing. Walked through the crowd, straight to Max. Hugged him. Kissed him. Whispered something in his ear.

No one knows what she said. But he started crying.

@/gridarchives:  Someone once asked Max what got him through that day. He said, Seeing my wife. Knowing she was there. If she was calm, I had no excuse not to be.”

@/gridarchives: Two months later, Max did maybe the funniest thing he has ever done:  announcing he became a father during a random team redline stream like it was a tire strategy update.

@/gridarchives:  February 2022. pre-season. Max is on a team redline stream.  Chat is flying. Comms are chill. He’s driving like a demon. And then someone asks why he missed the previous session.

@/gridarchives:  And Max, completely calm, goes: “Yeah, sorry, I was a bit busy. My son was born that day.”

Another driver on comms:

“Wait—WHAT?” “You had the baby?”

max: “Yeah. His name’s Kai.” casually overtakes three cars

@/gridarchives: Someone in the background (probably Jeffrey Rietveld) goes:

“Max, did you just soft-launch your child mid-race??”

Max:

“He’s perfect. Looks just like his mum.”

Icon. Legend. Zero chill. Zero Press. Just vibes.

@/gridarchives: Chat went FERAL. Clips instantly went viral. F1 Twitter lost its mind. Red Bull PR had to play catch-up for days.

@/gridarchives:  Barcelona 2022. Two months after Max casually announced the birth of his son mid-sim-racing stream, he walked into the paddock in black sunglasses, a Red Bull hoodie, and a baby carrier.

@/gridarchives: Inside the carrier: a tiny, snoozing Kai Verstappen, 8 weeks old. Wearing noise-cancelling headphones and a Red Bull baby onesie. Strapped to Max’s chest like the calmest accessory in the world.

“My son’s first race,” Max said. “He should get used to the noise early.”

@/gridarchives: Lea was right beside him. Soft jeans, a linen shirt, hair up, a tote bag with what was presumably enough diapers to survive a national emergency. No makeup. No fuss. The quiet core of a very loud world.

They looked like a family on a casual stroll. Not the title favourites in the middle of a high-stakes season.

@/gridarchives: The media tried to swarm. Max didn’t stop walking. Lea didn’t even blink.

@/gridarchives: A Sky reporter asked if he was more nervous racing now that he had a kid. Max said, “No. I’ve always raced to win. Now I just get a hug either way.” 

And then he smiled. Like a real one. And the internet broke.

@/gridarchives:  He won that race, btw. Then went straight back to the garage to take Kai out of the headphones and kiss his forehead.

“He slept through the whole thing,” he told Sky Sports, grinning. 

@/gridarchives: But Max wasn’t done for 2022. When the FIA banned jewellery in 2022, Max Verstappen responded by getting his wedding ring tattooed on. 

@/gridarchives:  So the FIA updated their rules: no jewellery in the car. No earrings. No chains. No rings. Supposedly for safety. Cue half the grid complaining, Lewis dragging them in interviews, and Max just going radio silent.

For about a week.

@/gridarchives:  Then someone spots it. On the Thursday of the next GP. A thin, clean tattoo around Max’s ring finger. Black ink. No embellishments. Just a simple band.

Someone asks about it, and Max goes: “The rule said I had to take the ring off. Didn’t say I couldn’t make it permanent.”

@/gridarchives:  Someone else asks if it hurt. “Not as much as leaving it off.”

@/gridarchives: Bonus: Christian Horner was reportedly told after the fact: 

“Max walked in, took his gloves off, and I saw the ink. I said, ‘Is that what I think it is?’ He said, ‘FIA can’t ban skin.’”

@/gridarchives: Let’s also talk about how much Max’s family loves Lea: 

@/gridarchives: Let’s start with Jos Verstappen. A man who, famously, trusts no one. But when asked once in a Dutch interview about his son’s success, he said:

“Max has two advantages. His talent. And Lea.” “She makes him better. She makes him calm.”

from Jos. That’s practically a sonnet.

@/gridarchives: Sophie Kumpen, Max’s mum, was the first to believe in Max & Lea. Sources say she knew from the start that Lea was “good for him.”

In a rare interview, Sophie said: “She’s grounded. She sees Max for who he really is—not the driver, not the number. The boy. The man. She’s calm. I like calm.” Mothers know. Mothers see.

@/gridarchives:  Then there’s Victoria Verstappen, Max’s sister. Fashion, fitness, mama of three—loved by fans. Has repeatedly said that she considers Lea a sister, not an in-law.

“She’s my family. Has been since we were teenagers. We grew up side by side. I trust her with everything.”

@/gridarchives: And they were all fiercely protective of her during the years. According to a Dutch journalist, Jos once called an editor directly and said, “Write another headline about her weight, and I’ll see you in court.” #DadEnergy

@/gridarchives:  Victoria has posted maybe a dozen photos with Lea in the past decade—quiet, untagged, casual: 

@/gridarchives: And every single time, without fail, the comments are a mess. Bodyshaming. Comparisons. “She’s not hot enough.” “Why does she look tired?” The usual sexist, vile garbage.

@/gridarchives: But Victoria? She’s not having it.

“You don’t get to speak about my family that way.” “If you wouldn’t say it about yourself or your sister, don’t say it here.” “Delete this comment and never come back.”

“Take your body issues elsewhere”

“You must be exhausted being this bitter online”

That’s in the comments. Publicly. Repeatedly.

@/gridarchives: At one point in 2021, she even posted a story about it: 

@/gridarchives: I am not done. Lea Verstappen is as much a part of Red Bull Racing as any race engineer or strategist.

Here’s what the people behind the scenes have said about her

@/gridarchives: Christian Horner (2017) – early days: “Max keeps his private life very private. We respect that. I’ve only met Lea a few times, but she seems like a lovely, grounded young woman.” (translation: Who is this girl and where did she come from?)

@/gridarchives: Christian Horner (2023) – post-Kai, post-3 world driver’s championship titles: “Lea’s been the calm in Max’s storm. She doesn’t need to be in front of the cameras to make an impact. She’s the reason he’s still sharp. Still here.”

@/gridarchives: Gianpiero Lambiase (GP), Max’s race engineer: “Lea is Max’s reset button. I’ve seen him go from zero to rage and back to calm in under a minute because of one text from her. She doesn’t raise her voice. She doesn’t need to.” Iconic.

@/gridarchives: Helmut Marko (2023): “I thought she’d be a distraction when they got married. I was wrong. She’s the opposite of a distraction. She made him… sharper. More dangerous, in a good way.” (yes. Helmut Marko said that.)

@/gridarchives: Red Bull comms team (2022), anonymously: “Lea has never, not once, asked for press management. No image control. No story spin. Her only request was: Don’t use Kai for content. And she said it so kindly, we printed it and taped it to the media room wall.”

@/gridarchives: Jonathan Wheatley (2022), Former Red Bull Sporting Director:  “She’s the one person I’ll never say no to in the garage. She brings us banana bread and keeps Max from threatening to move to endurance racing when he’s moody.”

@/gridarchives: One mechanic from Red Bull’s pit crew (2020): “When the media was tearing her apart in ’17, she brought us coffee in the garage.  No cameras. Just said, ‘Thanks for looking after him.’ I’ve worked 200+ races. That’s the only thank you I still remember.”

@/gridarchives: And the thing is? None of these quotes comes from trying to promote her. Lea has never once been part of the brand. She’s not a Red Bull ambassador. Not an image. Just a quiet presence who everyone, from Horner to the interns, has come to respect.

@/gridarchives And it’s not just Red Bull. Ask around the entire grid, and the way people talk about Lea Verstappen is with quiet awe.

@/gridarchives: Lewis Hamilton (2022): “She doesn’t show up for the cameras. She shows up for him. You can tell—there’s real love there. Real quiet. Real strong. I respect that.”

@/gridarchives: Daniel Ricciardo (2023): “Lea’s been around longer than most of the guys on the grid have even had race seats. She’s part of the Verstappen firmware. Comes with the engine. And her banana bread is terrifyingly good. Like… disarm-a-grown-man good.”

@/gridarchives: Charles Leclerc (2021):  “She used to sit on the karting fences next to my mum. Always quiet. Always watching. People talk about Max changing over the years, but I think the best parts of him were always there. She just kept them safe.”

@/gridarchives: And then there’s Kai. Lea and Max’s son. Now a paddock regular with noise-cancelling headphones and strong opinions.

@/gridarchives: A little boy who adores his parents… and who calls Daniel Ricciardo “Uncle Danny”.  Who calls Oscar Piastri “Car” and hugs his leg when he’s tired. (Oscar panics every time.) Who once tried to drive Lewis’s scooter, and Lewis let him.

@/gridarchives: It’s been almost ten years since Max and Lea Verstappen got married. They’ve weathered the spotlight. The storms. The silence. The wins.The losses The noise. The pressure. And through it all, they’ve never wavered.

@/gridarchives: Lea has never given an interview. Never done a press tour. Never gone on a podcast. There is no tell-all memoir. No YouTube vlog. No WAG content series.

Just: banana bread, Red Bull hoodies, and a quiet kind of grace that broke the mould.

@/gridarchives: Lea Verstappen didn’t come to the paddock to be famous. She didn’t come to be seen. She came to stand beside the boy she loved at 14— Who became a man. A world champion. A father.

And she never once let the world shake her.

@/gridarchives Max Verstappen doesn’t perform love. He protects it. And Lea Verstappen? She’s not just the woman behind the champion. She’s the reason he stayed human in a sport that tries to turn people into machines.

@/gridarchives: People tried to ignore her. Then tried to ridicule her. And when that didn’t work, they tried to erase her.

But she’s still here. Still Lea. Still standing exactly where she always has— Right next to Max.

@gridarchives Power couple doesn’t even cover it. Max & Lea Verstappen? They built something that lasted.

And in Formula 1? That’s rarer than a clean lap around Monaco in the wet.

[sevsgiirl]

Sevika headcanons please? Romantic & sexual, when she has crush etc? Pretty pleaseeee?

— sevika being a lovesick puppy for you

synopsis: sevika doesn’t understand why she can’t seem to act normally around silco’s new hire. she’s never had a problem letting anybody know what she thinks about them, but you? you were different. and it was driving her insane.

note: my first req 🥹 so sorry if this was sloppy I did it last minute but I was just excited to write this for you. I hope you like it and thank you for sending this in!

𖥔 sevika wouldn’t consider herself a shy romantic. she isn’t the type to stutter when she sees a person she likes and she definitely has no problem walking up to people she finds attractive and asking them out. when she wants something, she goes for it.

𖥔 that’s why she was baffled when she met you. you were silco’s new hire and when he informed sevika about you saying you were his new informant and that you’d be joining her in missions, she didn’t think much of it.

𖥔 what she didn’t expect was her becoming so smitten by you that she avoided talking to you for the first couple of weeks. there was just something about you and the way you walked into a room and her eyes immediately gravitated towards you but she just couldn’t seem to muster the courage to introduce herself.

𖥔 you assumed she was either just guarded or that she didn’t like you. you tried not to take it personally but you had to admit it was torture because you found the older woman incredibly interesting and wanted to strike up a conversation with her.

𖥔 but it seems like whenever she sees you she refuses to acknowledge your presence. walking past you, answering your work related questions with either a hum or a nonchalant ‘yes’ or ‘no’

𖥔 what you didn’t know is that sevika was losing her mind because she’s never acted this way around anybody.

𖥔 perhaps it was your innocent and warm personality that made her hesitant to talk to you, because you were so different from her and everybody else that worked for silco. you didn’t seem like you fit here but you always got the job done when asked and that just flustered her even more.

𖥔 not to mention, you’re hot. so fucking hot especially when you’d walk around in those tight fitted shorts you always wore that showed off your legs and thighs that made her mouth go dry every single time.

𖥔 sometimes you’d do things by accident that would make her brain go haywire. whether it was leaning against the bar talking to thieram and you’d arch your back enough for your ass to poke out. how you’d fold your arms together and it’d cause your tits to be pushed together. how every time you’d talk to someone, you have this habit of tilting your head and biting your lower lip and she’d have to restrain yourself from biting her entire fist.

𖥔 don’t even get her started on the way you say her name, your voice all sultry and sweet “sevika? are you ready to go?” she always ends up giving you a nod because she knew if she responded verbally she’d be a spluttering mess.

𖥔 she didn’t want to come across as a bitch but she knew it was likely looking that way, but she just didn’t know how to act around you. it was frustrating.

𖥔 eventually though, you’ve had enough and asked her about it “sevika? can I have a word with you?”

𖥔 she was backed into a corner and she tried so hard not to sound like an idiot “what for?” she asked, hoping you didn’t notice the panic in her tone.

𖥔 you sighed, looking down on your feet “I just wanted to ask if we’re good? I’ve been working here for almost a month now and I know it’s probably not that serious but I just can’t let it slide how you talk to everyone here but me. if I did something wrong that made you dislike me please just-“

𖥔 “what? no!” she exclaimed which surprised you “I mean… fuck. I don’t hate you, princess. you’ve done nothing wrong and you’re…” basically fucking perfect is what she wanted to say, but she stopped herself “you’re good. you’re more than good but I just have a hard time with new hires, it doesn’t help that you’re younger.”

𖥔 “well, that’s silly. you know you can talk to me, I won’t bite.” the implications of your words made her gulp “how about you come to my place this saturday and I cook you lunch? please? I really want to get to know you.”

𖥔 trying to talk to you while there was so many people around was already a struggle, imagine being left alone with you “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

𖥔 “please?” and there it is again, that tone you always use that makes her fucking melt “I promise I’ll make it worth it.”

𖥔 the next thing sevika knew, it was saturday and she was in front of your door wondering whether or not her decision to come to your place was a great idea.

𖥔 truth be told, you had every right to feel hurt about sevika’s ambivalence towards you, but usually people would just let it slide because they were scared of her. you though?

𖥔 “sevika, hi!” you said as you greeted her at your door “I was wondering when you’d show.”

𖥔 she offered an awkward smile “yeah well, I didn’t want to leave you hanging.”

𖥔 what she came to realize as soon as she arrived however, both to her pleasure and horror, was that you were good company to have around. which she hated. it was enough that she was not only attracted to you physically but the fact she was smitten by your personality as well made her want to pull her hair out. you could talk for hours and she’d listen to every single word.

𖥔 “I’m really glad we cleared the air because I was scared that I did something wrong for you to ignore me,” you said with a sheepish smile as you ate lunch with her “for a moment, I thought I was being a show off which might’ve annoyed you…”

𖥔 sevika immediately shook her head “no, that’s not… don’t ever think that.” you blinked up at her, as if to coax her into saying what really was the reason why she avoided you like the plague.

𖥔 and she thought since she’s here and there’s no point in acting like a sappy teenager at her grown age, she might as well come clean “I just find you attractive is all, princess. you came in and you had this sparkle about you and I didn’t know how to handle it. I’m used to being surrounded with old men at work so seeing you - young, bright and full of potential… I didn’t know how to make of it.”

𖥔 you were stunned for a second, your mouth agape “sev…” you bit your lip as you look down on your plate “well… if it’s any consolation I must say the feelings are mutual.”

𖥔 sevika’s eyes widened so much she swore they almost popped out.

𖥔 “what?” she asked as you nodded.

𖥔 “yeah, you’re so experienced and good at your job and silco trusts you so much. that’s why it was a big deal that you liked me or not because the truth is, out of everyone at work, I crave your validation the most.”

𖥔 her throat bobbed at your confession, an unmistakable heat pooling at her insides “yeah?” she said hoarsely.

𖥔 you smiled “I mean, of course, take it as you will. but I just wanted to let you know.”

𖥔 sevika swore she wasn’t going to cave into the allure of your words, of what they suggested, you were the new hire and it’d be so unprofessional of her to make a move on you. she kept that in mind even as you both finished lunch and she was about to walk out your apartment and leave…

𖥔 that’s why she doesn’t understand how she got here, stomach flat on the bed with your thighs trembling on both sides of her head as she licked a fat stripe off your leaking pussy. looking up at you with needy eyes and you stared back at her, a sly grin on your face.

𖥔 “oh sevi…” you moaned “and here I thought you hated me.”

[lunamugetsu]

Imagine...

It's late one night and Batman is running on one hour of sleep for the past week.

He's tired. His kids are tired. They are all going home early to catch up on sleep. No questions.

So he gathers everyone into the Batmobile and heads straight to the Batcave. It's when he tells everyone to go get some rest that something unexpected happens.

"Okay Daddy."

That wasn't any one of his kids

Bruce turns to see a little girl rubbing her drowsy eyes while letting out a yawn.

Right next to her, holding her hand, is a boy that looks to be a couple years older than her and equally as tired as his companion. They both had black hair and blue eyes.

All of the batfamily are now wide awake and staring at the kids.

"B, do you want to tell us something." Jason asks.

"Father," Damian is giving him an accusatory stare.

The girl then blinks a bit before looking straight at Batman.

"You're not Daddy." She then starts tugging on the boy's hand. "Dan! That's not Daddy!"

The boy (who they now now as Dan) immediately snaps to attention and pushes the girl to stand behind him. He's glaring at them now.

"I knew you had a adoption tendency, B. I didn't think you'd kidnap your next pair of kids." Jason says

"We've been kidnapped!" the girl yells. If it was possible, Dan starts glaring at them even harder.

Meanwhile

Knock! Knock!

Alfred opens the door to see that the visitor is an eldritch shadow-like being with glowing green eyes that was towering over him.

"Sorry for disturbing you so late at night, but I believe my children are in your house."

Basically Danny is taking care of de-aged Ellie and Dan. He's in his eldritch form when meeting the batfamily.

Batman in turn thinks that Danny is evil and most likely a very bad father. (granted, how many eldritch beings of immense powers turn out to be good fathers in the DC universe?)

But is immediately proven wrong when the two kids immediately snuggle up against Danny with not sense of fear at all.

Meanwhile since Batman took them there, Ellie and Dan take it as an open invitation to come over. So they just pop up in the mansion whenever they want.

[avastarred]

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION!

CHAPTER 1: UNDRESS REHEARSAL

pairing: OnlyFans Model!Robert "Bob" Reynolds x f!reader synopsis: When your best friend and her fiancée move out of the home you share, you're left looking for a roommate. You find one, a sweet, down to earth guy named Bob, but what do you do when you find out what he really does for work, and he asks for your help? content: 18+ MDNI!! smut, crazy buildup bear with me y'all, Bob is more confident in this one, he's a yapper during sex, yelena and ava are gay sowwy, bob has a big dick, reader wants that cookie so effing bad, masturbation, unprotected pinv (no glove no love everyone...), discussions about safe sex kinda, creampie, filming, slight hand kink, oral (f!receiving), aftercare word count: 12.3k author's note: I was just hungry as hell when I wrote this sorry. There's gonna be multiple parts for sure, not sure what the end goal is I just know they're gonna fuck nasty a couple more times. Joaquin mention too so maybe ... perhaps... threesome? Perchance? Anyways, happy Sunday everybody, likes and reblogs are always appreciated and jsyk I love reading the little comments people leave, I'm bad at responding but just know ur making me smileeee. :) table of contents: chap1 ✮ chap2

masterlist ☆ ao3

You hated looking for roommates. More than the search for a liveable place, searching for roommates felt like a form of torture specially designed to make you want to peel the skin off your body. You were lucky enough to have found a good place in the city— A 3 bedroom townhouse in Manhattan, with 2.5 bathrooms — heavily subsidised because your (rich) friend’s great aunt Elsie was the landlord and she considered you family. You’d taken the bedroom with an en-suite and turned the basement room into a combined hobby room and spare room. The only problemhad been finding a good roommate. The world, you had learned, was full of weirdos.

Your first roommate was a girl you’d gone to university with. A good friend by all means; kind, funny and one hell of an agony aunt. She was just a horrendous roommate. She refused to wash her dishes, letting them pile up and simply using yours instead. She didn’t vacuum, didn’t clean her bathroom. This lasted for about a year but then a pair of your best lacy underwear had gone missing, and three weeks later you’d found it in your drawer with faint skid marks and the waist band somehow torn to shreds. You’d asked her to find somewhere else to live, and when she left she took half the friend group with her after calling you a “privileged brat who leveraged her connections to deprive her of shelter”.

The next roommate had lasted only 8 months, and she’d been clean, but couldn’t resist having her sleazy boyfriend over basically 24/7. When you’d told her that he needed to pay rent if he wanted to live with you she’d accused you of being jealous because your own love life was stagnant. For the two months after you’d told her this, it felt like she’d made a point of having the loudest, most obnoxious sex she could if she knew you were home. When you started finding sex toys in communal areas, you told Elsie what was going on and she was evicted almost immediately. You made sure she paid for a deep clean of her room and the living room before she got her security deposit back.

After her, your friend Yelena had moved in with her girlfriend Ava, and thankfully they’d been normal. No underwear heists, no obnoxious sex, no dirty dishes. You’d had a good four years of peace, but now that they were engaged, they were moving out to live on their own in a townhouse two houses over, gifted to her by her parents. You were happy for them, really, but God, you didn’t wanna have to look for a new roommate. It felt like everywhere you turned there were new stories about increasingly worse roommates and you dreaded having to look for one.

“I’m sure Elsie won’t make you cover the rent for the other room. She loves you more than she loves me at this point,” Yelena says, clicking through her half of the responses to the room ad you guys had posted. She’s on her third glass of wine, lying on the living room floor with her feet in Ava’s lap. You’ve got the AC cranked up, some old Britney music video currently playing on the TV. Ava hums in agreement, massaging her calves.

“It’s not that I don’t want to cover the rent. I don’t wanna live in a house with an empty room. Besides, I’m sure someone here will appreciate having to pay like a quarter of what they’d normally pay for a room like this. The problem is some of these people might be freaks,” you mumble as you read through your half of the responses to the room ad you posted on SpareRoom. “God I wish it wasn’t unethical to hunt down people’s social media. I feel like it would tell me a lot more than some of these profiles. These people didn’t even follow instructions,” you note, deleting a response from “Anna, 27, major hippie who just wants to put love into the world.”

The ad had specified that you needed to know what they did for work, why they were interested in living there, any hobbies they have, and whether or not they were allergic to cats. You’d put the ad up about a week ago, and received so many responses that you needed to private it so you could filter through these applications and get back to people in time for viewings on Saturday and Sunday. You’d already sent some responses back, but it was currently Wednesday and you knew you’d be cutting it close if you didn’t have all these responses back by tonight.

“Okay, this guy Julian is 43, divorced accountant who enjoys chick flicks, hiking and trying new recipes,” she says cocking an eyebrow. “And he’s kinda sexy in a silver fox way.”

“Probably looking for a rebound too,” Ava chimes in.

“Wow, that would be great if I was trying to fuck my roommate, but I’m not trying to do that. Because it’s messy,” you say. She sends him an invite to a viewing anyway.

“Her and I started as roommates, and look at us now,” Ava says, squeezing her calf.

You don’t have a rebuttal for that, but you hope they can feel you shaking your head disapprovingly anyways.

“Okay, this girl Mariya is 30, works in marketing, no cat allergy, loves festivals, baking and rock climbing and is part of a monthly book club celebrating marginalised voices in publishing,” you say. “She also has really cool eyeshadow,” you add as you copy-paste and then send the viewings invite message to her. You still have about twenty applications to get through, but you’re almost done. From the hundreds of responses you received, you’d managed to narrow it down to fifteen possible roommates. Not that it was hard. Any applicant that didn’t fully follow the instructions was discarded, which took out almost half the responses. Anyone under the age of 24 was discarded too. No hate to them, you just knew it wouldn’t be a good fit, especially if they were still undergrad.

“What about this one,” Yelena says sitting up. “His name is Bob, he’s 31. Online content creator, loves to read, no cat allergy, hates cooking but promises to always do the dishes, and wants to live here because it’s central, the house looks really beautiful and he thinks he’d really feel at home here. He’s also cute,” she says.

“What does ‘online content creator’ even mean,” Ava asks, “like TikTok influencer? He could be an incel twitch streamer.”

“Or he could be on booktok,” you offer.

“Yeah right. If it’s funding his lifestyle it’s either redpill bullshit or OnlyFans,” Ava bounces back.

“No stop it, he looks sweet. And what if he’s like… a Minecraft youtuber you know,” Yelena defends, sitting up and turning the laptop so both of you can have a look. He does look very sweet. It looks like he’s picked his best casual picture, dark brown (possibly honey blonde) hair peeking out from beneath a cap. He’s outside, book in hand giving the camera a nervous smile.

“Please, just because he looks sweet doesn’t mean he isn’t an incel,” Ava retorts.

“Let’s just give him a chance, if he has weird vibes when he views we can just bin his application,” you say.

“But then he’ll know where you live,” she says.

“Along with like 25 other people. Relax,” Yelena says squeezing her girlfriend’s thigh, “I just don’t get bad vibes from him,” she says, sending him the viewing invite message.

You guys fall into comfortable silence again, filtering through applications and occasionally asking for the others’ approval.

When you finish screening applicants, Yelena and Ava leave to go pick up some pizza while you respond to the people who have RSVP’ed for viewings. You guys had decided to conduct group viewings, with two slots on Saturday and two slots on Sunday. Of the 30 people who made the cut, 15 have replied, all spread across the Saturday. You’re about to shut your laptop down and go find yourself a pre-dinner snack when you hear your laptop chime.

Bob Reynolds:

hi, thanks for getting back to me. Happy to do Sunday @ 3, very excited to see the place and meet you :) thanks again, see you on Sunday, have a good rest of your week x.

You stare at the message for some time before responding.

You:

speedy! See you on Sunday, will be nice to meet you too, enjoy your week :).

By the time Sunday rolls around, you’re more exhausted than you feel you have any right to be. Between working, tidying up and helping Yelena pack and move, a deep ache has begun to settle into your bones. This exhaustion wasn’t helped by the fact that yesterday’s viewings had been a complete waste of time. Of the final 20 who had ended up being booked in for Saturday, only one of them had seemed promising until he started trying to haggle for your room, saying he’d much prefer the en suite to the empty bedroom you’d advertised. He’d then gone on to take a dig at the decor, lamenting the fact that it was quite girlish even though you hadn’t changed a single thing between posting the ad and inviting him for a viewing. The final straw had been him taking a dig at your hobbies, noting that the clay figurines you made didn’t look like they were made by someone who had been making clay figures for years. God forbid a girl have a hobby she was a little bad at. You’d endured with gritted teeth and a thin smile, sighing in relief when you finally shut the door behind him. You’d watched him walk away with a pep in his step, and then turned around to your friend and thrown your hands up in surrender.

“If I don’t find anyone tomorrow I’m living by myself, fuck it.”

Sunday’s quieter, only 10 people opting to give up their Sunday afternoon to come view. The first batch had been a group of seven, and while none of them were bad per se, they just didn’t seem enthusiastic about living there. One had even balked at the sight of your cat, despite said cat being in almost every picture on the listing. No one had asked questions, just nodded and followed you around.The three of you are sitting on the steps waiting for the final group to arrive, praying for a miracle.

The first person to arrive is Mariya, the rock climbing, festival going marketer. She looks pretty chill, coffee cup in hand, decked out in a dark blue sweat suit.

“Mariya? Hi,” you greet, sticking your hand out for a handshake. She pulls you in for a hug instead, not caring about the fact that you have completely tensed up in her arms.

“Oh my god it’s so great to meet you. I’m very excited to see the place,” she says to you, before looking around you to greet your friend and her fiancée. You don’t hear what she says to them, because soon after, Julian, the accountant arrives. He’s tall, and he is sexy in that silver fox way, but when he shakes your hand he holds on for a bit too long, the look he gives you a little too ‘nightclub at 2:34 am’. You pass him on to Yelena, keeping an eye out for Bob while he introduces himself. You feel your phone vibrate and you pull it out to check. It’s a message from Bob.

Bob Reynolds:

going to be 5 minutes late I’m so sorry I’m maybe three blocks away, got off at the wrong stop. I’m so sorry, I’ll be there soon.

You look at your watch. It’s not even 3 yet, just before, but you appreciate the heads up.

“We’re just waiting for one other person, he’ll be here soon. You guys can go inside if you like,” you say, scooping your cat off the steps and into your arms.

“I’ll wait out here with you,” Julian offers, reaching over to stroke your cat. He pulls his hand away when she hisses at him.

“Sorry, she takes time to warm up to strangers,” you say scratching under her chin.

Mariya disappears inside with Ava and Yelena, chatting their ear off about niche indie bands. The air outside is thick, the only thing more uncomfortable than the humidity being the way Julian looks at you like he’s giving you a once over, assessing you.

He speaks first.

“So why’s the rent so cheap? Your boyfriend’s parents own the place or something?”

You know what he’s doing, but you’re too tired to dodge the question.

“No boyfriend, just a generous landlord,” you answer, keeping your eyes glued to the cars whizzing past you on the street.

“Shit, what does he expect in return?”

“Well she is just looking for some extra money on the side because the mortgage is paid off, she’s old, and I know her great-niece,” you respond. You swivel your head, looking for Bob. It’s only just hit 3, so you know you have a little more time to wait. You wish he’d teleport.

“So no boyfriend then huh. Single, or is a pretty girl like you working with a roster?”

You want to vomit. You don’t think forty-three year old men should speak to you about your non-existent roster. You sigh, busying your hands with petting Angie while she pushes her head into your chest. You can feel him staring at you, just waiting for an answer. You check your watch. 3:02.

“Just not looking for anything right now, too busy,” you answer, and it’s half true. You weren’t looking for anything, but only because it felt like dating in today’s dating pool felt like swimming in shark infested waters.

“With what?”

You hear a record scratch in your head.

“Sorry?”

“What are you so busy with that you don’t have time to date?”

He’s still eyeing you up like a car on sale, and you almost open your mouth to tell him it’s not wise to leer at the person who decides whether he gets the room or not when you hear footsteps.

“I’m so sorry, I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” a voice pants.

You check your watch. 3:04.

“Technically, you’re early Mr. Five Minutes Late. Did you run here?” you ask when you see the way he’s doubled over, face flushed. As if suddenly aware that you’re looking, he straightens up, pushing his shoulders back. He’s taller than you expect. And broad. The shirt he wears is a little tight around the shoulders and chest and you have to stop yourself from staring for too long.

“I speed-walked,” he corrects.

“Glad you made it,” you reply, sticking your hand out for a handshake. He looks at your hand then shakes his head.

“Real sweaty hands, I’m sorry,” he grimaces.

You shrug. From behind you, Julian clears his throat.

“I’m Julian, nice to meet you,” he says. There’s an edge to his voice that nearly makes you roll your eyes.

“Uh, Bob?” Bob replies, gripping his hand in a handshake. Julian lets go almost immediately.

“Your hands are sweaty,” he says, almost sneering.

“I know, that’s why I warned her,” Bob says.

The two of them follow you inside, and you let Bob wash his hands in the guest bathroom while Julian joins everyone else in the kitchen.

“Thanks,” he says when he comes out, “do you want shoes on or off?”

He’s the first person to ask, and you make a mental note of this as you tell him not to worry.

“What’s her name?” he asks, motioning to Angie.

“Angie, short for Angelicat but we only call her that when she misbehaves,” you say.

He laughs, scratching under her chin. “Misbehaves? But she looks like such a good girl,” he coos. She purrs in response, lowering her head and flattening her ears, letting him pet her. “A very good girl,” he amends.

“Oh and you have good girl radar, then?”

He locks eyes with you, and you swear you feel the air get knocked out of you when he replies: “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

You’re suddenly aware of how close he’s standing and you feel heat creeping up your neck.

You clear your throat, motioning to the door into the living room/kitchen space.

“We should probably join the others.” You bend down to let Angie out of your arms, and when you stand up again, he’s holding the door to the living room open, soft smile on his face. When you walk past him into the living room, you pretend you don’t feel the undercurrent of tension between the two of you.

“They’re here,” Ava says almost immediately, interrupting whatever Julian was saying.

Bob flushes, raising a hand in greeting.

“Yelena, Ava, this is Bob. Bob, Yelena and Ava,” you introduce, “They’re the ones abandoning me,” you say to the whole room. There’s an “ah” that ripples across the room as everyone gathers around for the tour.

“Right so, this is the kitchen,” you say, motioning to the kitchen, “it’s pretty new. Our landlord put in new appliances just over a year ago, everything runs like a dream. Lots of cupboard space,” you say opening up the cupboards to show everyone. “Any cookware you need for cooking or baking is here, but if you have your own stuff you’d be more than welcome to bring it,” you say as you shut the cupboard doors.

You move from the kitchen into the dining area, showing everyone the dining table you only really used when you had guests. You take them out the double french doors to the backyard. It’s open, with a stone path down the middle splitting the perfectly manicured lawn in two. “We spend most weekends out here in the summer, but we have gas patio heaters for winter too.”

“And a mini firepit,” Yelena adds.

“And a mini firepit. We get the grass mowed every two weeks?" You look to Yelena for confirmation, and she nods. “Every two weeks, but the cost is built into your rent so you don’t have to worry about it. I’m not much of a gardener, but if you have a green thumb you’re more than welcome to have a go at planting stuff if you feel like it. Landlord doesn’t mind as long as you don’t completely tear the place up.”

You let everyone have a look around the backyard, leaving space for any questions. Bob comes up to you, hands in his pocket.

“Good place,” he says, “lot more space than it looks like from the other side.”

“I know, I got real lucky with this place,” you say.

He looks like he wants to say something else but everyone is coming back, so he just holds the french doors open for you, letting you back into the house.

When everyone’s back inside you take them to the living room. “Big living room, nice bay window. The TV has Netflix, Prime, any other streaming service you might be willing to share,” you say to a couple of laughs. “Any questions before we move on to the next rooms?”

“Yeah,” Julian pipes up, “what are expectations around feeding the cat and looking after it.”

“You won’t need to worry about that I’ll do it,” you answer.

With no more questions, you guys move into the entrance way. You show the the guest toilet by the stairs and then lead them down into the basement where the hobby room is.

“So this is the hobby room, but there’s so much space it doubles as a spare room too,” you indicate, pointing at the twin bed in the corner. “Feel free to use it as an office, if you need to. If you don’t wanna share a desk with me and my crafts we can a hundred percent move another desk in here without compromising too much on space.”

You let everyone have a look around again, and you see Julian nudge Bob, and then hear him make a comment about the clay crafts, something about them being juvenile. Bob doesn’t respond, just leans down to pet Angie, who has been laying in the office chair. He stops to walk over to you, and she leaps off the chair walking with him, butting against his legs until he leans down to pick her up.

“Needy girl aren’t you?”

She just purrs in response, closing her eyes and settling in his arms.

“If I moved in and I wanted to use this room for making videos, would that be okay? I figure it might be a bit better… noise wise than using the bedroom… if I moved in.”

He sounds so nervous it’s endearing.

“Yeah, hundred percent. I’d probably just need an idea of when you were using it so that I don’t interrupt your filming.” You bite back the urge to ask him what kinds of videos he makes, but you decide that he’s definitely not an incel.

“How come you’re not renting this out as a bedroom?” Mariya asks. She has one of your clay figurines in hand and you swear you see her almost slip into her pocket before she realises you’re watching.

“I used to work from home and it was good having a designated office space. When I went back to the office I just didn’t see the need to turn it into a bedroom,” you shrug, leading everyone out. You take them back into the entryway, then up the flight of stairs to second floor, where the bedrooms and bathrooms are. You show them the bathroom first, pointing out the big sink and cabinet space. There’s a bath tub and a separate shower. The shower is spacious too, and you hear Julian make a crack about there being room for two. No one laughs, and you feel your skin crawl.

“Right, and this is the room,” you announce, nudging the door open with your hip. It’s empty, save for the bed, TV, and a couple of boxes Yelena hasn’t moved yet. “Lots of natural light, big closet. Enough space for a desk if you feel like you don’t wanna work downstairs. You do need to be careful when changing because the window looks out onto the street so y’know,” you mention.

“Does the cat come in here often? It’s just that I own some mice and I’d prefer not to have keep them in a cage all day and I need to be able to guarantee their safety,” Mariya asks.

“It should be no problem if you keep the door closed when you’re not home. But telling her she can’t come into the room will be fine too. She listens.”

You look over at her, still in Bob’s arms, eyes closed, purring softly. Mariya looks like she’s considering this information and she just nods, continue to poke around the room.

“What’s it like in winter?” Julian asks. “Temperature wise.”

“It’s good! Pretty well insulated, but there’s a remote for temperature control on the wall. Also really well ventilated, so doesn’t get damp,” you smile, leading everyone out.

“My room is down the other end of the hall, so you also have a fair amount of privacy,” you add on, sneaking a glance at Bob.

“What’s the policy on partners?” Mariya asks, “Like can we have them over, or do they have to be gone by the end of the night?”

“They can stay over, it’d just be great if they’re not sleeping over practically everyday. And you know, you’d have to be mindful, keep the volume down, limit intimacy to your bedroom, that type of thing.”

“You’ve had a roommate who was intimate with their partner outside of their bedroom?” Bob asks, incredulous.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” you say.

“Could be kinda hot,” you hear Julian say and you watch Bob grimace.

You usher everyone back downstairs, fielding the last of the questions and letting them know that you’re happy chat some more and to reach out over SpareRoom if they have any more questions. Mariya leaves pretty much immediately, but the two men stay, keeping the conversation casual. You’re on your third sexually charged comment from Julian when Bob puts Angie down.

“We should probably let you guys get some rest. Big decisions to make,” he says, heading towards the door. He looks expectantly at Julian who finally seems to get a hint for the first time that day.

You’re standing on the steps after saying goodbye when Bob stops in the middle of the sidewalk, and comes back, standing at the bottom of the steps.

“Look, obviously I’m biased, and obviously you’re an adult and this is your home, but please tell me you aren’t considering giving the room to him,” he nods in the general direction of where Julian went, “like good grief.”

He looks genuinely concerned, and you make a note of that too.

“Don’t worry he’s not even a contender, thanks for the concern though.”

He sighs in relief then waves back at you as he starts his journey home. You don’t need to think about it, you know who’s getting the room.

“Do we need to relist the room?” Yelena asks when you’re back inside.

“Nope, giving it to Bob,” you say throwing yourself on the couch.

“What? You weren’t charmed by Julian and his overt advances? Didn’t wanna play with Mariya and her mice?” Ava says.

You shoot, “Literally what was up with that? What do you mean you don’t keep your mice in a cage and why would you apply to a house with a cat?”

You guys laugh, settling in for a movie. You’re gonna miss this, you think. Movie nights with the two of them. You know they’re only moving a couple of houses down, but it’s not the same.

“You know you don’t have to decide today, right?” Yelena says to you, briefly taking her eyes off the screen to look at you.

“I know, but I think he’ll be good. Doesn’t give off incel vibes, was really polite the entire time and Angie already likes him. Literal miracle.”

“And she thinks he’s cute,” Ava says, and you can hear the smile in her voice.

“Irrelevant. Completely irrelevant,” you mutter, “I’m gonna go send the rejection messages for everyone else, I’ll be back in like 15 minutes,” you say heading upstairs to your bedroom.

You open your laptop, copying the rejection message from your notes and mass sending it to everyone who made the viewing but Bob. Some people reply immediately, thanking you for showing them around anyways and wishing you the best. Julian tacks on a ‘we may not have worked out as roommates but I’d be interested in hanging out anyways’ and you don’t even respond, just report him to SpareRoom.

You open up the chat with Bob, where there’s already a message waiting for you.

Bob Reynolds:

thank you for having me, great to meet you guys, especially Miss Angie :) give her head pats for me, please!

You:

No worries, thanks for showing up! And pending a successful reference check and a security deposit (3 months rent upfront), you’ll be able to give her head pats yourself when you move in :) congrats!

The response is immediate.

Bob Reynolds:

wow thank you so much! Didn’t expect to hear back so quick :) appreciate it, thank you so much future roomie. have a good week!

☆

Bob’s references all come back clean, and he moves in pretty much immediately after he pays his deposit, only a week after he viewed the place. Any nerves you had about him as a roommate dissipate after less than a month of living with him. He’s tidy and sweet, always does the dishes (even yours). You guys have fallen into a Saturday cleaning routine, with him handling upstairs (besides your room and bathroom), the living room and the guest toilet. You take the kitchen and hobby room, always taking extra care not to mess with Bob’s filming equipment. He’s got at least three expensive looking cameras, some microphones and a bunch of lights. You’re not sure you’d be able to replace anything if you broke it. You still don’t know what he posts, just that he’s normally alone when he films. If he’s not alone, his friend Joaquin is there, though that doesn’t happen often since he’s currently living in DC. He also sometimes has a girl over, pretty brunette who always lets you know that she loves your cute mugs and one day she might steal your cat. You haven’t seen her in a couple of weeks though. You wonder who she is. At first you’d thought she was his girlfriend, but when you’d said as much in passing, Bob had seemed perplexed, rushing to tell you that they weren’t together.

“I just know her through work,” had been his exact words.

By the time Bob has been there for six months it’s mid November and the whole world is getting ready for the holidays. The cold weather has both of you inside a lot more, choosing cozy movie nights over going out. Sometimes you ended up making dinner for the both of you, turning Bob into the perfect guinea pig for recipes you found online. Tonight was one of those. Dinner had been a pad thai approximation, a little suspect at first, but delicious after some wine. You guys were now seated in the living room, both on opposite ends of the three seater couch as some forgotten raunchy comedy played on the screen. You must be feeling confident after the wine because you turn to him, pushing his foot with your own.

He cocks an eyebrow, confused.

“I have a question,” you get out, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. “Your online video stuff. What is it?”

He relaxes.

“Oh I was wondering when you’d ask me,” he says. He sits up properly, facing you. “You actually lasted a lot longer than I thought you would to be fair. What do you think I do?”

“Well, I figure you’re a gaming streamer or something, but for cozy games, I can’t see you playing shooter games.Or maybe you’re on booktok or booktube. Yelena thinks gamer too. Ava thought you were either an incel,” you watch his eyebrows shoot up, “or OnlyFans. I don’t see it,” you say downing the rest of your wine. You should probably slow down, but you need the courage.

“You don’t think I can do OnlyFans?”

“Well, anyone can do OnlyFans it’s just you seem so… not an OnlyFans guy, I feel like they’re cockier.”

“Well Ava is right. I have an OnlyFans,” he admits. He’s trying to play it nonchalant but you can see the flush creeping up his neck. “Is that an issue? Should I have said something on my application? I know people can get a bit weird about it and-”

“Oh my god, no,” you rush to cut him off, “it’s not an issue you’re more than welcome to do whatever you want. I just never would’ve guessed because you’re so … quiet. And I figured you’d have more girls in and out for that kind of thing,” you say.

He laughs. “Nah. I do a lot of solo stuff. Sometimes I do collabs but uh, the girl I normally work with can’t work with me anymore, so solo until I find someone new,” he explains.

“Cool. How did you get into it?” You can’t stop yourself from asking.

“Started off on a cam site actually. Needed a lot of money fast and an old friend suggested it. I was pretty successful there and when OnlyFans started getting popular I moved there, gave me a bit more flexibility in terms of content.”

“Fully understand. University can be so expensive,” you say getting up to go refill your wine.

“Not university. I was funding my meth habit,” he says. It’s so casual you almost drop the bottle of wine.

“Meth?!”

“Yeah. It was a little rough for me.”

“You don’t look like you do meth,” you say when you sit back down, wine in hand.

“That’s because I’ve been sober for years now. What does a meth head even look like?” he asks, incredulous.

“Less teeth, I don’t know,” you say. You feel flustered. You mull your next question over carefully.

“Do you still stream?”

He tilts his head, curious. “Occasionally.” There’s a pause. “Why, d’you wanna watch?”

You almost choke, and he reaches over to pat you on the back, an amused smile plastered across his face.

“No.”

Yes.

“No harm in asking. Now I wanna know something.” He’s shifting nervously now, all the confidence he had prior seemingly vanishing. “Would you ever make an OnlyFans?”

You pause, thinking, and apparently that’s all the time he needs to start backtracking, apology spilling out of his mouth.

“Oh my god, relax. I’m not uncomfortable I’m just thinking. Knee jerk reaction? No. But I think if I could make content without showing my face I would try? I don’t know just the thought of looking at my own body doing… stuff… wigs me out a little.”

“So you don’t care that much about other people seeing you that way?”

“If I’m making bank?No; obviously it’s gonna be a little nerve-wracking at first but realistically? I would probably get over it after I got that first deposit. And again, no one would know it’s me. I’d be faceless.”

“Interesting. Follow up. Let’s say, hypothetically, a guy was looking for a girl, just for the moment because he promised his subscribers something special for Christmas, would you be down? Obviously you’d get paid, fifty percent of the profits-”

“You think I’d make a profit?” you interrupt.

“I never said it was me but,” he leans back and looks you over, nice and slow, “yeah, you’d make a profit.”

Your grip on the wine glass tightens, just a little. He doesn’t stop looking, his eyes resting where your legs disappear into your pyjama shorts, then travelling further up until he’s making eye contact with you.

“Uh, well,” you try to gather your thoughts, “I-I mean, hypothetically, as long as this guy wasn’t making me do anything insane I could probably give it a go. I’m not opposed, I’d probably have to think about it.”

You’re nodding your head so much you think you might shake something loose. He just laughs.

“I’ll let you think then,” he says, turning his attention back to the TV.

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding when he doesn’t say anything else.

On Monday evening you’re having dinner with Yelena and Ava, the three of you sitting at the dinner table for once, indulging in your weekly gossip session. You’ve just filled them in on your Friday conversation with Bob, and Ava is practically howling with glee.

“I told you guys, I told you. OnlyFans or incel!” she exclaims, punctuating her outburst with a strong slap of the table.

“I just don’t get it. He’s so twitchy sometimes when we’re around, and you’re telling me he gets on camera and has sex? He apologises to Angie when he has to stop petting her. I don’t see it,” Yelena argues.

“It doesn’t matter what you see, clearly he’s a different guy on camera. Have you had a look yet?” Ava asks.

Both her and Yelena are looking at you expectantly.

“No, I haven’t had a look yet. Not going to have a look in the future either. That would be weird, he’d think I’m weird,” you say.

You’d thought about it though. A lot. You were curious, no point lying about it, but you didn’t even know what his username was and you really didn’t want to ask. It felt pervy.

“Weirder than him asking if you want to guest star on his account?” Ava fires back.

You shush her, afraid Bob might come home and hear you guys discussing his work life.

“Well she’s gonna say no anyways. Remember she doesn’t fuck roommates,” Yelena points out.

There’s a beat of silence where Ava and Yelena turn to look at you, and then:

“No way. She’s considering it,” Ava says, “like actually considering it.”

“It would be a once off, and I’d make some money maybe. That’s it,” you mumble.

“You know, it’s okay to say you think he’s hot and you wanna sleep with him. He’s totally your type,” Yelena drones, “we will not judge you.”

“Well, yeah I also think he’s hot and I wanna sleep with him, sue me!”

You hear the front door open, and the three of you rush to find a topic of conversation that isn’t your OnlyFans model roommate and the possibility of starring in a video.

When Bob comes into view he’s soaked, his shirt clinging to him like a second skin. Holy shit, he’s got muscle under there? you think. You feel Ava nudge you under the table and she mouths ‘you’re staring’ when you turn to her in confusion. You feel your face get hot and watch her smirk, smug.

“Hi guys. It’s raining out there.” He sounds dazed. “Did anyone know it was going to rain?” he asks, “sorry, I’m getting water everywhere, shit,” he mutters as he puts grocery bags on the kitchen counter. “Fuck, I’ll clean it up, just let me get changed first, or maybe unpack the groceries?”

“I can do the groceries, go get warm,” you say, getting up from your spot at the table.

“On that note, we’ll get going before the rain picks up even more,” Yelena says, helping Ava up from her seat.

“Oh you guys don’t have to go,” Bob starts, falling silent when Yelena raises an eyebrow.

You start unpacking the groceries Bob got, and when you’re done you mop the floor. You’ve just finished mopping when you hear him come back. His hair is still damp, and he’s in an oversized grey sweater and sweatpants.

“Oh. I would’ve done that,” he says when he comes back downstairs.

“You can do it next time the rain catches you off guard,” you say as you put the mop out to dry. “You eaten?”

“Yeah, grabbed some food when I was out, thanks. What’d you guys have?”

You watch him pick Angie up gently from where she’s napping on the couch so that he can sit down. She settles back into his lap and falls asleep again when he starts gently dragging his knuckles between her ears. You cant help but notice how big his hands are, how gentle.

“Hello?” you hear him say, and you snap out of it. “Lost you for a minute there,” he says when you can finally look him in the eye. “Dinner?”

“Oh uh, mashed potatoes and steak. By me,” you answer.

“Bet it tasted real good then,” he says. The way he says it reminds you of the day he came to view the house, after he’d washed his hands. Something hidden, dangerous, lurking beneath an innocent comment. Or maybe you just really want to fuck him and you’re projecting. It doesn’t matter, all you know is that it makes you feel a good sort of funny. It makes you start imagining what it might be like to hear him say that to you under less platonic circumstances.

“Uh, y-yeah, yes. Tasted real good,”you manage, scrambling to piece your brain back together.

“I’ll have to try it someday.” His voice is low, almost a whisper as he breaks eye contact to plant a kiss on Angie’s head. You swear you can feel the air between you fizzing.

“Um. About that thing we spoke about on Friday,” he starts, still looking at Angie, “if the guy showed you the type of videos he makes, would that help you make a decision?”

That sucks the air out of your lungs and all you can do is nod.

“Cool, I’ll get on that,” he says. “Wanna watch a movie?” he smiles at you, moving over so there’s space on the couch. Against your better judgement you grab one of the blankets that has temporarily moved into the living room and settle in next to him. In an attempt to act normal you make sure you’re not too close, but not too far. Unfortunately the blanket you’ve picked up is a little on the small side so you end up sitting so close to him that your knees bump every time you shift.

You don’t know what you’ve chosen to watch, because all you can do is think about what he might choose to show you. You can’t focus on the screen when your thighs bump against each other and he’s apologising, low. It’s literally taking everything in you not to lean in further.

What on earth were you getting yourself into?

At lunch time on Wednesday you get a message from Bob.

Bob ☀️

12:00pm: hi. got something for you. 12:00pm: goldenboy has gifted you a free subscription to his profile. Join here: https://onlyfans.com/goldenboy. enter the code 12FREE when prompted at checkout. 12:03pm: sorry, probably shoulda picked a better time hahaha. sorry. for whenever you have time.

You see him typing for the next five minutes, the bubble with three dots appearing and disappearing and reappearing multiple times before you finally get a message.

Bob ☀️

12:08pm: hope you enjoy it :]!!

You spend the rest of the day uncomfortable, unfocused. How are you supposed to draft emails when he’s just said he hopes you enjoy seeing him naked.

When you get home you head straight to your room. You know Bob’s home because you can hear the soft murmurs of the TV from his room when you walk past. You head straight to your computer, entering the link he sent you into your browser’s search bar. His profile comes up and it feels like you’re looking at someone totally different. There’s a lazy grin plastered across his face, and the sleeves on his shirt are pushed all the way up. He’s got his arm behind his head, flexing the muscle in the most casual way possible. He’s wearing a backwards trucker cap, and you can see the way his hair peaks from beneath it, curling at the edges. It’s gold where the sunlight washes over it. His banner is him in nothing but some black briefs, the outline of his dick pressing against the material. That’s got to be an optical illusion or something, you think, feeling the saliva pool in your mouth.

You feel like you’re in a haze as you sign up. When it prompts you to set a name, you mull it over for some time before settling on the name Angelicat. You want him to know you’re here. After verifying your account, you head over to his profile again, subscribing and then browsing through the stuff he’s already posted. There are a lot of photos of him in various states of undress, taken from different angles with different poses. Sometimes he’s even in costume. You’re partial to the raunchy firefighter calendar shoot photos he has up. He’s flexing in ridiculous ways and he looks so confident, sure of himself. You click on a video. The thumbnail is him, sitting in a chair wearing nothing but some boxers. The video is titled “STREAM HIGHLIGHTS: FRIDAY 04/26/2024”. It’s only 30 minutes long. You have 30 minutes. You turn on your bluetooth headphones and connect to your laptop, hitting play immediately. His voice is in your ears immediately, low and husky. He’s talking to the chat, asking if they missed him. He’s palming himself over his boxers and you watch, thighs clenched together. As the video goes on, you listen to him sweet talk his viewers, telling the regulars he missed them, calling them by name. You watch as it skips ahead to a clip of him with his boxers off, briefs pushed down just enough for him to pull his cock out. It’s not an optical illusion. He’s thick, long and oh so hard, the tip leaking precum. He reaches over and pulls a bottle of lube out, popping the lid open and squeezing some into his hand. He wraps his hand around his cock and pumps slowly. He’s swearing, eyes fluttering shut, asking everyone if this is what they wanna see. There’s another cut, and suddenly he’s using a fleshlight, thanking a subscriber for the gift, telling them it’s perfect and he feels so good. There’s one more cut, and he’s asking you to cum with him, his thighs tensing as he finishes, spilling into his hand. It ends there. You immediately click out, looking for more. He’s got multiple stream highlights. In some of them, he’s in costume, a request or a reward for a paticular milestone. The really popular ones are the ones where he takes instructions from the viewers. The most popular ones are the ones where he edges himself, eventually begging the viewers to let him cum.

When you think you’ve had your fill of solo videos you finally click on a video labelled “Hot Soccer Player lets Hung Nerd Creampie Her for Study Notes [COLLAB WITH SPORTSBUNNY]”. The pretty brunette you’d sometimes seen around is in the thumbnail in a too tight soccer shirt, eyes staring seductively into the camera from between Bob’s legs. You click play. You sit through a jaw-droppingly corny roleplay where she pretends she really needs his notes to pass this semester, the two of them going back and forth before she offers to not just let him fuck her, but finish inside. Must be some crazy good notes, you think, unwilling to suspend disbelief. When they agree, he pulls her into his lap. Tells her how beautiful she is, slots his lips over hers. It’s not long before they’re both moaning into each other’s mouths, Bob’s hands resting on her hips so he can grind her against him. They detach, only so they can both remove their shirts and you feel something in your stomach clench when he flips her over easily, kissing down her chest. There’s a tent in his pants as he moves down, kissing down her body, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her shorts and underwear, and slipping them both off.

“Let me eat you out,” you hear him say, almost panting. You just hear her respond with a breathy yes, and for maybe the fourth time that night you’re absolutely stunned as you watch him pretty much dive in, hungry. You feel yourself ache when he sucks on her clit, muttering about how sweet she tastes, how he’s obsessed. Calls her a slut when she takes two of his fingers easily, and he shushes her when she whines. He alternates between sucking on her clit and lapping at her, the sounds obscenely wet. When he comes up briefly, his chin is glistening and his eyes are bright. His hair sticks up at funny angles where she’s been gripping it. He continues the slow pump of his fingers in and out of her, ignoring the way she begs him to go faster. You watch as he angles them so that the camera can see the way he fingers her better. She’s practically dripping and the sound it makes as he pumps in and out of her is so obscene you apologise to no one in particular.

“Shit, she’s so wet for me, you like that Bunny?”

She’s just mumbling, panting and keening as he continues, dipping his head back between her thighs. Soon she’s moaning, telling him she’s about to cum, and he encourages her, breathless, whispering against her clit, fingers still moving. He only slows down when she arches up pretty violently, his free hand flying up to steady her. You completely block out the next chunk of the video because your mind is stuck on the way he ate her out, wet and insistent. The way his fingers pressed into her and he seemed to enjoy feeling her buck against his lips, begging him for more. The way he had to adjust himself every time she said please. The way he didn’t give in until the very end. You can feel yourself aching, a reminder that you hadn’t gotten laid in over a year. When you tune back in he has her on her hands and knees, camera focused on where her ass is currently slamming into his hips, one of his hands on her hips guiding it. You’re struck by how big his hand is on her, how strong it looks as he guides her back and forth, unrelenting. He’s vocal, constantly encouraging her, telling her she can take it, that she just needs to hold on a little longer and then suddenly his hips still and you can hear him let out a broken moan. When he pulls out, the camera pans down to her lips as he spreads them, making you watch as he spills out of her before he takes his fingers and uses it to push the mess back inside, all the while telling her what a good girl she is, how well she’s done for him.

You exit out of the video. You don’t know how long you spend scrolling through his other videos, but by the time you finally exit out of his profile it’s like you can vividly see and feel him on you. You can see the way his hands slide over his scene partners’ bodies, strong and firm, keeping them where he needs them. You can see the way he moves and bends them to his will, putting them in whatever position he needs them to be. You can imagine all the ways you’ve seen him eating them out; sometimes they’re on their backs, sometimes he convinces them to sit on his face, other times he bends them over and eats it from the back, a hand on the small of their back to steady them. Every time, he makes them cum, guaranteed.

You check your phone. It’s almost 9pm, and you haven’t had dinner yet. You feel slightly ashamed of yourself, but that’s replaced by that familiar curl of lust when you see that Bob messaged you.

Bob ☀️

6:39pm: I like your display name. Does that mean ur gonna misbehave then?

You giggle. You can’t believe he even remembers that, the viewing feels like so long ago.

You:

8:47pm: No, just wanted your attention :). I’ll do it, but you need to promise to keep my face either off-camera or blurred.

You hit send before you can second guess yourself. Your phone chimes immediately.

Bob ☀️

8:47pm: Well you’ve definitely got my attention. Thanks you’re a lifesaver xx 8:49pm: I take it you liked what you saw then? Any favorites?

You do have a favorite. It’s a video of him and a model — not SportsBunny — in front of the camera as she sits on his face, back to the camera. He’s just in his briefs, and his bulge is pretty much front and center. You can see him getting harder as the video goes on, as he grinds her into his face and licks and sucks enthusiastically. He doesn’t even need to touch himself, you just watch as his abs and thighs tense and a telltale wet patch spreads across his front. You think you’ve watched it at least three times.

You

8:51pm: please just be happy with the fact that I’ve been stuck in a goldenboy rabbit hole (interesting name). I’ve gotta have some decorum.

Bob ☀️

8:51pm: lol okay i’ll take it. 8:58pm: if you decide you’re done having decorum we can always do a test run. just to make sure i’ve got a good set up you know, like a dress rehearsal. if you don’t like it we don’t have to film the real thing :)

You

8:59pm: when?

You want to do the test run. Why pretend otherwise? You’ve already committed to being in a video, why not see what you’re gonna be working with?

Bob ☀️

9:01pm: today. give me 30 minutes to set up downstairs. does that work?

You send a heart react. You can hear the faint creak of his door opening almost immediately and you feel your stomach turn, suddenly nervous. You know that it’s one thing to sleep with him, another thing completely to do it on camera for an audience. What if you looked back at the footage and you totally sucked; moaned too loud, or sounded too fake. You realise that you haven’t changed since you got back from work, and once again you feel a little ashamed of yourself for letting peeking through your roommate’s OnlyFans distract you from your daily routine. You take a quick shower, slipping into a cotton shirt and shorts, and deciding to go downstairs and see if you can fix yourself a quick bite before you have to go down to the hobby room.

When you get downstairs, there’s a container of fried rice with a sticky note attached. In thin, sprawling handwriting, you see the words “didn’t hear you in the kitchen, ordered Chinese and got you fried rice, hope that’s okay - Bob”. You smile to yourself, ignoring what you suspect are butterflies, and heat up a little bit of the fried rice, grateful. You take your time eating, letting yourself settle a little bit before you head down to the basement. He’s in there, sat at your hobby desk, shirtless and distracted by his phone when you walk in. He looks up when he hears the door click behind you and smiles, putting his phone face down on your desk.

You can’t help but stare, first at the broad planes of his shoulder, then down to his abs, much more defined than you’d imagined. Seeing him like this in person feel so much more breathtaking than seeing it through a screen. You let your eyes follow the trail of golden brown hair disappearing into his sweatpants, snapping back up when you see the shape of him along his thigh.

Jesus Christ, it was actually real.

“You okay? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, really, my subscribers will be okay if they get this a little late, it’s all good I really don’t mind.”

“You’re so different on camera,” you mumble.

“Sorry?”

“Never mind. I’m fine really, just tell me what to do,” you say.

He motions towards a divider that’s been put up in the middle of the room, “Ladies first,” he says, standing as you pass him. You feel him behind you, hands ghosting over your waist as he ushers you into the mini studio he has set up. This half of the hobby room feels like a different world. There are posters on the wall that you recognise from his videos, and he’s got a mirror near the foot of the spare bed. He has a camera set up on a tripod, and you can see the red recording light blinking. Propped up on a mini table, out of view of the camera is a tablet playing a livestream of what the camera is recording. He has a hand held camera on the bedside table, red light also flashing. You see what you assume is a bluetooth remote on the bed, and you also notice that it’s brighter in this half of the room thanks to a set of lights he has in each corner.

“I don’t normally film my own stuff, but figured this would be more comfortable for you, since you’re not… you don’t do this.”

“I didn’t realise you had a camera man,” you say, more to yourself than him.

“Yeah. You’ve met him before. Joaquin. Real cool dude. Helped me get started on OF; let me pay him peanuts for filming some of my first collabs.”

He’s pressing himself closer to you, pushing you towards the bed. When you guys get there, he turns you around, pushing you so you’re sitting down. You feel the bed dip as he sits down next to you. He tilts your head so you’re looking at him.

“Don’t worry about the cameras, that’ll be my job. Look, if…if this makes you too nervous I can-”

You pull him into you, cutting him off with a kiss.

“It’s fine, I’m fine, I’m a grown woman who made this choice by myself. Stop worrying about me,” you say.

He seems to snap into focus, the air between you charged as he leans back in, pressing his lips to yours. He pulls you into his lap so that you’re straddling him, detaching briefly to stare at you with stormy eyes. You’re breathing hard, and his hands move around you, slipping under the hem of your shorts to cup your ass. He squeezes.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, dragging his bottom lip through his teeth. “So soft,” he says into your shirt, kneading the flesh of your ass. His voice is so husky it’s almost unrecognisable. “I have to ask you. When was the last time you got tested?”

He’s still kneading, and it makes it hard to focus on what he’s asking. One of his hands moves to cradle your face, tilting it slightly so you’re looking at him when he asks again: “When was the last time you got tested?”

“Um, a year and a half ago I think. I’m clean. I haven’t had sex since,” you admit, embarrassed. He smiles, hand moving down to the side your neck, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Sorry to hear that,” he mumbles before he’s kissing you again, sucking on your bottom lip, pushing his tongue into your mouth. He repositions you so he’s got a thigh between your legs, and he’s holding you against him firmly when he pulls away again. “Hard nos? Anything you won’t do at all?”

He’s still using his free hand to move you against his thigh and you can’t think when you feel the muscle underneath you, dragging against your core. His other hand is under your chin, making sure you look at him. You’re doing everything you can to stop your brain turning into mush.

“Anal, no choking… I don’t mind a hand around my throat as long as you don’t squeeze. Um, I don’t think I can give you head yet-”

“Yet? So it’s in my future then?” He’s smiling at you, but there’s something dark in his eyes and you can feel your stomach tighten.

Maybe, you think. What comes out of your mouth is a shaky “Yeah.” Fantastic collaboration between your brain and your mouth once again.

“Anything else?” he mumbles, dipping his head to kiss at your jawline.

“I don’t know, I don’t think so,” you manage to get out.

He’s on you again pretty much instantly, hand coming down from your face to paw at your tits over your shirt. He pulls away from you briefly, hands feeling around the bed before he has the remote in hand. He’s eyeing the screen of the tablet and you can see the camera lens zooming in. Then he’s turning you — just a little — so that the camera has a better view. He’s back on you, kissing down your neck; one hand rocking you against his thigh gently, the other pushing the hem of your t-shirt up. You instinctively turn away from the camera when you feel the cold air over your chest.

“No, no honey it’s alright, c’mon let the camera see, they’re so perfect, ” he’s saying as he adjusts you again. He’s dipping his head, taking one of your nipples in your mouth, flicking his tongue over your nipple until it pebbles. His hand work the other one, before he adjust you slightly so he can wrap his mouth around the other one. He’s groaning into your chest, and when he pulls away with a light ‘pop!’, he looks at you. “Can I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the hem of your shirt slightly. You just nod, lifting your arms to make it easier for him. “Fuck, there we go. So much better for me,” he sighs as he nips at the flesh around your nipple, running his tongue over immediately after to soothe it. He still has a hand cupping your ass, moving you against his thigh where you can feel him hardening, even through the layer of your shorts and his sweats. it’s so dizzying that you need to put a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. You’re whimpering, and you can feel him smiling against your chest when your thighs tense around his.

He detaches so he can lay you on the bed, and then he reaches over for the camcorder.

“Hold this for me, just point it at me, try keeping it steady.” He’s smiling into your skin as he kisses a path down your stomach. You’re watching him through the monitor as he licks along your waistband, electrifying. You feel stuck in place when he takes it between his teeth, pulling it down slightly, using his hands to get it down the rest of the way. He lets out a low whistle when he see the underwear you’re wearing. A very thin, very lacy lavender number that you’d pretty much given up on ever using. “You got dressed up for me?” he says, adjusting you, spreading your legs so that the main camera can see you better. You look up from the camcorder monitor briefly, checking the tablet. There’s an obvious wet spot, and if not for Bob holding you open, you would’ve snapped your thighs together. “Oh my god, you’re so hot,” he’s mumbling into the skin of your thighs, his knuckle grazing over the wet spot softly. “You good up there with my camera?” he asks, staring at you through the camcorder. You just nod. It’s taking all you have to hold it steady, and you can feel that resolve waning as he keeps running his knuckle over your clothed slit, so gentle but you still feel like you’re on fire. “Mmmm, good. You’re so good for me,” he says. he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, near your knee. Then another one, slightly higher. And another, moving up, peppering you with kisses until he’s right over that wet spot. He looks at you through the camera as he just… breathes over it. He uses his knuckle to push at your clothed slit and the pressure makes you buck your hips up and whine. “Easy. You’re so fucking sensitive. It’s really been over a year?” You just nod. You don’t think you can speak. When he presses his thumb over your clothed clit you whine, an embarrassing high-pitched sound that makes him smile.

He leans down again and places his mouth over you, still looking at you through the camera. “Holy fuck, honey,” he groans, tongue flat over that damn wet spot, and you feel him tense it as he runs it up and down your slit, flicking it over your clit. You’re trying to keep your eyes open, to focus on the task he’s given you, but it feels damn near impossible. You want more. You think he reads your mind, because he hooks his fingers into the waistband and pulls them down. You watch him pocket the damn thing, and that lazy grin from his profile picture is plastered on his face.

“You’re gonna let me keep them, right sweets?” You just nod, shaky. He soreads your folds open for the main camera, whistling. “You’re this wet already, haven’t even touched you properly yet,” he’s saying. “She’s so pretty for me, honey, fuck. You should look at her,” he says. And you do, watching on the tablet screen as he runs his finger along your slit, collecting your arousal on his finger before he brings up to his mouth and sucks on it, eyes fluttering shut. “Knew you’d taste good, fuck. Gimme the camcorder sweetheart, just for a little bit.” You hand it to him, and watch as he points it at your pussy. “Keep ‘em open for me okay,” he mutters as he uses his free hand to collect more of your slick on his fingers, spreading it around, laughing when you flutter around nothing every time he traces around your hole. “Needy girl aren’t you?” he says low. He hands you the camcorder. “Keep it steady for me, angel,” is all he says before he pushes a finger in, his mouth over your clit.

You’re not ready, and you yell out “fuck!”, camcorder tilting when your hands fall into the sheets. “Focus,” he says into your pussy as he curls his finger inside you, tongue still on your clit. You bring the hand with the camcorder up, point it at him again. Your other hand is gripping the sheets so hard you swear you can feel it in your shoulder. His free hand that was keeping you pinned to the bed, reaches up, curling around one of your tits, massaging as he works you with his mouth and fingers. Every whine and whimper he pulls out of you feels more embarrassing than the last, but he never stops. He just keeps going, pace consistent. The hand on your chest disconnects briefly, feeling around for yours. When he disentangles your fingers from the sheets he moves it over to his hair. “You can pull on it. I like it,” he says before he pushes another finger in. Your thighs tense, and you grip his hair hard. “That’s it, good girl,” he groans into your cunt, tongue and fingers moving faster. He’s alternating between sucking and just lazily flicking his tongue over you, looking up into the camera as he does. You can feel yourself climbing, a tight ball forming in the pits of your stomach. He must feel it too because he speeds up, sucking harder, flicking his tongue over you faster. “C’mon sweetheart you can do it,” he says when he feels you begin to flutter around his fingers. His free hand comes back down to pin you to the bed. “Fuck, you’re so close I can feel it, please. Need this, need to see you unwind,” he says, “wondered how you feel when you cum, wanna feel you angel, please,” he almost pleads. There’s something about this admission that pushes you over the edge, fills your head with a dense fog that you’re not sure you ever want to clear up. When it clears he’s staring up at you, proud.

“Still good?” he asks, taking the camcorder out of your tingling hands.

“Yeah. Are you?” you ask. He’s between your thighs and you can feel how hard it is. You’d probably be able to see it too if you were brave enough to look.

“I’m about to be,” he answers, putting the camcorder down so he can pull his sweats off. He’s not wearing underwear, you realise, when his cock springs free, tip against his abdomen. You clench around nothing when you follow the vein along his underside, watch as he wraps his hand around himself, uses the other one to pick the camcorder up. “We’ll take it slow alright, tell me if it’s too much,” he says. He spreads your legs a little further, still checking the view from the main camera. “Perfect,” he purrs, “so fucking perfect, oh my god I just knew you would be,” he’s saying as he runs his tip along your slit. He pauses for a moment, laying his length against you, just admiring.

“You ready?” he’s asking, when he finally lines the tip up with your hole, gently pressing in. You just nod. You can’t trust yourself to speak. You arch up pretty much immediately when he pushes the tip in. It’s just the tip but holy shit, it feels like so much, you don’t know how you’re supposed to take the rest. “Easy, angel,” he says stilling so you can adjust, “fuck, you feel good, and that’s just the tip. You’re gonna fit like a glove,” he’s mumbling. He draws circles around your clit with his thumb, slow and careful as he begins pressing in further, camcorder trained on the spot where he’s disappearing into you. It feels like forever until his hips are finally flush against yours, but he doesn’t move just yet. He squeezes your hip. “Still good?”

You nod. You feel so full, you might just cry when he starts moving. “Fuck, I was right. You fit like a dream, honey. You’re so soft, fuck, I could probably cum like this,” he groans. He shifts slightly, leaning back, pulling your legs so that they’re resting over his thighs. Then he starts rocking into you, gentle. You feel like you’re on fire, burning from the inside out. The drag of his cock along your walls is so delicious, even as you struggle to keep from crying out. You can’t stop the little whimpers and whines and pleas for more. “More? You want more?” he asks, speeding up. You’re whispering please, over and over and over again when he eventually just starts ramming into you, bodies connecting with obscene sounding slaps, his hand still pushing you down into the mattress as he moves, laser focused on watching you through the monitor. “Fuck you’re so good, baby. Taking me so well, better than I thought you would. This feel good for you?” he’s asking you. All you can do is moan, broken cries of “yes, so good,” slipping from your lips as he keeps pounding into you, relentless. He moves the hand that’s on your hip to one of your breasts, just squeezing it in his hand, still watching through the monitor.

“Play with them for me angel—fuck—please do it for me.” He’s got the camera angled so he can see everything below your neck, capturing the way your tits bounce with each thrust. You do what he says, hands coming up to cup them, squeezing, rolling your nipples between your fingers to a chorus of “good girl”s and “oh god you’re a star”s. He uses his thumb to rub your clit, and he’s still watching through the monitor as your own hands falter, hips jolting. “C’mon, angel you’ve got it, don’t stop,” he’s saying. His face is flushed, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. You can see the way his biceps flex when he moves his hand from your clit to your hip again, pinning you down. “Fuck, c’mon, you’re so good,” he says. He’s moving faster, chasing his own high and he leans over to reposition the camcorder on the bedside table so it’s shooting from the neck down. With both hands free, he keeps you pinned down as he rubs your clit. There’s nothing lazy about this anymore, he’s almost desperate, begging you to cum so he can cum too.

He must be a magician, you think as you feel yourself tensing, pulsing around him.

“Not a magician, just lots of practice,” he laughs from above you, still pounding into you, thumb still over your clit.

“Oh god, that’s so embarrassing,” you whine, hands covering your face. Embarrassment doesn’t stop your orgasm from washing over you, and you clench around him.

“Oh honey, don’t be embarrassed, you’re doing s-so good for… for me, shit.”

You’re sensitive now, and he slows down only slightly, still rutting into you.

“I’m almost there alright, where d’you want me?” he’s leaning down to whisper into your ear, chest flush against yours.

You don’t even hesitate. “Inside. It’s fine, I have an IUD.”

He groans, twitches and then his thrusting gets sloppy. “Fuck, you’re killing me. You’re so sweet, letting me cum inside like this… oh my god,” he groans out, stilling. You can feel him twitching inside of you as he finishes, panting in your ear. You feel him press a kiss to your forehead, and then he’s pulling out.

“Sorry,” he kisses into your cheek, when you hiss. You open your eyes, watch him grab the camcorder off the bedside table. He repositions himself so he’s between your legs, camcorder pointed at your pussy. He puts a hand on your lower stomach pushing slightly. “Think you can push it out for me?” he asks. You clench, unsure of whether it’s actually doing anything until you hear him whistle, “You’re a fucking natural,” he says, smiling. It’s soft, like he’s actually proud of you, and you try to ignore the way that makes you feel.

When he’s got all the footage he needs, he puts his pants back on, and promises he’ll be back. And he is, with a warm cloth, a glass of water and a mini packet of sour patch kids. “You probably need the sugar,” he says as he wipes between your legs, gently, taking care not to press too hard.

When he’s done, the sheets are changed, and you’re dressed again— sans underwear because he absolutely refuses to give them back— the two of you turn off all the lights and head back upstairs.

“I’ll uh, look through the footage and send you what something I’d upload would look like, and then you can decide if you still wanna go ahead with it,” he says when he gets to his bedroom. “Really, thanks for doing this for me. Goodnight,” he smiles, as he shuts the door softly behind him.

You don’t need to watch the test run video to know that you’ll be filming that video with him.

[drewsephrry]

Love Island - Episode 2: The Bombshell Effect

series masterlist

pairings: rafe cameron x fem!reader

words: 4.9k

warnings: cuss words

The fun and relaxed vibe the islanders had been building quickly shifts when the new arrival walks in.

“Woah! A girl!” Topper calls out from the kitchen, prompting a giggle from the newcomer as she approaches and greets him with a hug. Y/N, Sarah and Maddy exchange glances while Rafe, JJ and John B get off the daybed to meet the new girl. Rafe turns back to the girls with a teasing grin.

“Not coming?” He jokes, prompting them to get up. Y/N adjusts her dress, taking Maddy’s hand as they join the group.

“Why do I feel like she’s going to stir up some drama?” Y/N whispers, earning a snicker from Maddy.

“You’re probably right. My intuition’s saying the same thing.” Maddy replies as they follow the others.

Confessional - Maddy "My intuition? Yeah, it’s never wrong.” She shakes her head with total confidence. “Like, ever.”

The islanders greet her warmly, introducing themselves with hugs.

“I’m Alyssa!” She announces with a bright smile. “Shall we head to the firepit? I’d love to get to know all of you!” She leads the way enthusiastically, the boys trailing after her while the girls hesitate before following.

As they all settle in, the boys begin asking Alyssa questions. It isn’t long before she glances around the group.

“Okay, so who’s coupled up with who?” She asks. Topper quickly wraps an arm around Sarah’s shoulders.

“I’m with Sarah.” He declares, as if staking his claim. Alyssa nods, her gaze shifting to Rafe, who is sitting beside Y/N.

“What about you? Rafe, right?” She asks. Rafe blinks, caught off guard.

“Uh, yeah. I’m, uh…I’m coupled up with Y/N,” He stammers making Y/N’s brows furrow slightly as Alyssa smirks.

“And how are things going between you two?” Alyssa presses, leaning forward slightly. Rafe glances at Y/N, seemingly searching for the right words.

“It’s still early days, but things are good.” Y/N answers when his silence lingers. The rest of the couples share their pairings as Alyssa nods thoughtfully. Later, the boys excuse themselves to let the girls chat with Alyssa.

“What’s your type?” Cleo asks curiously, making Alyssa pretend to think.

“Hmm…someone fit, with light eyes, that always gets me. Someone who’s fun but can have deep conversations too.” She pauses. “Rafe seems like that kind of guy.” She adds, causing the girls to exchange pointed looks.

“Honestly, Rafe and Y/N seem like the it-couple here. They’re so close already and it’s only day two.” Maddy speaks up, making Y/N roll her eyes jokingly. Alyssa shrugs, undeterred.

“Well, like you said, it’s early days. His head could still turn.” She reveals, making the girls widen their eyes as they look at Y/N who turns to Maddie.

“Told you. Drama starter.” Y/N mutters to Maddy, who giggles, before turning back into conversation.

“Look, I’m not here to make seasonal girlfriends. I’m here to find love. If that means stepping on toes, so be it. You can’t expect to stay coupled up with the same person for weeks on end.” Alyssa leans back, addressing the group.

The girls exchange tense glances as Alyssa stands up.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to chat with the boys. See you around.” She walks away, her hips swaying exaggeratedly as she approaches the guys in the kitchen.

“Oh my god.” Sarah mutters.

“I was this close to punching her.” Kiara says through gritted teeth.

“She’s got some nerve.” Cleo adds. They all turn to Y/N, expecting a reaction.

“Aren’t you going to say something? She basically said she’s coming for Rafe.” Kiara presses, but Y/N only shrugs.

“Guys, it's still the second day. I…yeah, I have fun with Rafe already and there’s definitely something building there, but if his head is gonna turn, I can't help it.” She says, her voice casual, though there’s an underlying tension in her words.

“He’s not going to go for her.” Maddy says confidently and the others nod in agreement.

“Early days, Mads.” She tries to remind Maddy, but mostly says it as a reminder to herself.

The rest of the evening unfolds with Alyssa effortlessly mingling with the guys, laughing and chatting as she tries to make connections. When it’s finally time to wind down, the girls retreat to the makeup room, giggling and talking as they remove their makeup and change for bed. Alyssa, however, is in the bathroom, mid-skincare routine, when Rafe walks in wearing nothing but his boxers, ready to brush his teeth.

“Oh, hey.” He says casually, grabbing and wetting the bristles of his toothbrush. Alyssa smirks, letting her hair tumble free from her ponytail and running her fingers through it.

“Hey, Rafe.” She replies, her tone light and flirtatious. She leans against the counter, her gaze roaming over his defined chest and abs.

“You good? Having fun?” He asks, voice slightly muffled from toothpaste as he starts brushing his teeth.

“Yeah.” She answers, her smirk widening. “You guys are fun. Nice. And very good-looking.” Rafe chuckles, spitting into the sink before wiping his mouth with a towel. She steps closer, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.

“So, what is it you said you do?”

“My family owns a construction and development company.” Rafe replies, his tone polite but detached. Alyssa nods thoughtfully.

“Do you have a type?” She asks, her bluntness catching him off guard.

“Uh…not really.” He says after a pause. “I guess I like someone I can have fun with, adventures, good banter, that sort of thing.” As he speaks, his thoughts drift to Y/N. If they could go far enough to explore whatever this chemistry between them has to offer.

“Oh my god, that’s exactly what I look for too!” Alyssa exclaims, her eyes lighting up. “So…would you say I’m your type?” Rafe glances at her briefly before shrugging.

“Uh, sure.” He replies nonchalantly, his tone devoid of enthusiasm, but Alyssa smirks.

“Good to know.” She murmurs.

Just then, the bathroom door opens and Y/N steps inside. She’s wearing a pink pajama set with delicate lace trim, her tank top and shorts hugging her frame perfectly. Her wide eyes flicker between them.

“Am I interrupting?” She asks quietly, fidgeting with the ring on her finger. Rafe straightens immediately, relief washing over him at the sight of her.

“No, no, not at all.” He assures her, stepping aside so she can reach the sink. Alyssa gives Y/N a slow, appraising look before humming softly.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it. Nice talking to you, Rafe.” Without waiting for a response, she saunters out of the room. Y/N ties her hair back and begins washing her face. Rafe leans against the counter, watching her through the mirror.

“You okay?” He asks, his voice softer now and she nods, glancing at him with a small smile. Rafe’s chest tightens at her smile. He waits patiently as she finishes rinsing her face and grabs her toothbrush.

“What do you think of Alyssa?” She asks suddenly, catching him off guard. Rafe’s brows shoot up.

“Uh…she’s…okay?” He says hesitantly and Y/N raises an eyebrow, silently urging him to continue.

“She’s pretty.” He admits, shifting uncomfortably. “But there’s something missing. I just…I don’t think I could ever be attracted to her. Not in the same way as…” He trails off, his gaze locking with hers through the mirror. He closes his eyes, scratching the back of his neck, before finishing his sentence. “…you.”

Y/N’s eyes widen as she nearly chokes on her toothpaste. She turns away, coughing violently. Rafe immediately steps forward, gently rubbing her back.

“You okay? Want me to grab you some water?” He asks, concerned but she shakes her head, still coughing.

“No, no, I’m fine. Just…swallowed wrong.” She manages, her cheeks flushing as she spits into the sink. Rafe chuckles, leaning against the counter again as she wipes her mouth. His eyes drift over her, taking in her loose ponytail and her now-glowing, makeup-free face.

“What’s that?” He asks when she grabs a small jar from the counter.

“My moisturizer.” She explains, with a hoarse voice. “Do you want some?” Rafe nods, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Only if you do it.” He murmurs making Y/N laugh softly as she gestures for him to lean down. He crouches slightly, closing his eyes as her fingers gently glide over his face. Her touch is featherlight and Rafe exhales a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“That feels…really good.” He whispers. Y/N smiles, carefully working the cream into his skin.

“It’ll feel sticky at first, but it’s great for hydration. With all the sun we’re exposed to, it helps a lot.” She explains. When she finishes, Rafe glances in the mirror, noting the glow on his face.

“Looks good.” He says, turning back to her. His eyes linger as she adjusts her tank top strap and his jaw tightens at the sight of her effortless beauty.

“Ready to head downstairs?” He asks, clearing his throat and Y/N nods, leading the way to the bedroom.

Confessional - Rafe He squints, clearly confused. “What was that thing she put on my face called again?” He pauses, thinking. “A face…water? Bro, I don’t know. But I think I liked it. It smelled nice.”

They settle into their respective sides of the bed, adjusting the covers. Y/N shifts slightly, her leg brushing against his and Rafe’s breath hitches.

As the rest of the islanders head to bed and the lights dim, Rafe props himself on one elbow, watching Y/N as she faces him. He brushes a strand of hair away from her face.

“You don’t have to worry about her, you know.” He whispers, making Y/N hum softly in question, her eyes meeting his.

“Alyssa.” He clarifies. “I like what we have and I want to see where it goes. However long or short that is.” His fingers twist a strand of her hair as he speaks, his voice barely audible. Y/N smiles, her arm draping over his torso in response. Rafe mirrors her smile, pulling her closer. He presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, the warmth of her body lulling him into a peaceful sleep.

The next day moves at a slower pace compared to the earlier ones. The girls lounge by the pool, gossiping about the boys as they work out and relax around the villa. Rafe and Y/N find a quiet moment together, stretched out on the couch under the terrace, getting to know each other better.

“Do you have any hobbies?” Rafe asks, his eyes closed as Y/N’s nails lightly trace along his arm, the touch comforting them both.

“Uh…I dance. I paint. And I read a lot too.” She reveals, her voice soft but genuine.

“Creative, aren’t you?” He teases, a smirk tugging at his lips, making her chuckle lightly.

“What can I say?” She teases, making him laugh along.

“What kind of dancing do you do?” His curiosity is evident and her touch doesn’t falter as she answers.

“I do some hip-hop, some contemporary too but mostly heels dancing.” She admits casually, catching him by surprise.

“Heels dancing? How does that even work?” He asks, raising a brow in disbelief.

“It’s this really sexy, technical style of dance in stilettos. It can be very challenging, but it’s so beautiful.” She explains, her face lighting up with enthusiasm as she talks about it. Rafe can’t help but admire the way she glows when she speaks about the things she loves.

“That sounds…I mean, I’ve got to see that.” He teases, grinning at her reaction.

“We’ll see about that.” She murmurs, looking away bashfully.

“Don’t get shy on me now.” He prods. “I bet you’re incredible at it. Especially that kind of dance.” Her nails pause briefly as she looks at him.

“You really think so?”

“I do.” He says earnestly. “And I’d love to see you dance. Anytime.” Her lips curl into a smile.

“Okay.” She whispers, agreeing softly.

“Yeah? You’ll actually let me?” He presses, slightly surprised, but her soft laugh and nod are all the confirmation he needs. He grins, satisfied, before pulling his sunglasses back on and laying back down on the couch.

Their quiet moment is interrupted by the sharp ping of a phone notification. Gasps ripple through the villa and Y/N sits up quickly, exchanging wide-eyed glances with Rafe as he follows her lead.

“I got a text!” Alyssa’s voice rings out, full of excitement. Y/N rises from the couch and glances toward the pool, where some of the girls chill in, Rafe instinctively placing a hand on her shoulder as he trails behind her.

“Alyssa, tonight you get to couple up with a boy of your choice, leaving a girl single and vulnerable. #maketherightchoice #steppingontoes.” Alyssa grins, reading the message aloud. Her excitement is palpable, while the rest of the girls exchange uneasy looks. The boys huddle nearby, their murmurs growing louder. Y/N glances at Rafe, the pit in her stomach tightening.

“I’m…I’m gonna go talk to the girls.” She mutters, her voice low. Rafe nods slowly.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you later.” He says, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before letting her go. His eyes follow her as she walks toward Maddy and Sarah, her bikini accentuating every curve.

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up.” Sarah groans as Y/N sits down beside her.

“Did you see how thrilled she was to read that? She doesn’t care about any of us.” Maddy snaps, glaring toward Alyssa.

“Y/N, what’s on your mind?” Sarah asks, noticing the tension on her face.

“I…I don’t know. It’s just…I can’t control who she’s going to pick. And if it’s Rafe…” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I’ll be pretty bummed.” Maddy shakes her head firmly.

“He won’t give her a reason to pick him. He likes you, Y/N. It's obvious.” Before Y/N can respond, Alyssa’s high-pitched voice cuts through the villa.

“Rafey! Can I chat with you?”

Y/N stiffens, glancing over as Alyssa grabs Rafe’s arm. He looks confused but doesn’t protest. He turns back briefly, as if to gauge Y/N’s reaction, but she’s already averting her gaze. With a sigh, he lets Alyssa lead him to a secluded couch far from the others.

“Spoke too soon.” Y/N mutters under her breath, her fingers fidgeting with her ring as she tries to suppress the unease bubbling in her chest.

“Don’t do this to yourself.” Maddy insists. “Rafe likes you. A chat doesn’t mean anything.”

Confessional - Y/N “I know it’s early days. I keep saying that like, I know it.” She looks away, then back to the camera. “But choosing him? That would probably send me into a full spiral. Like, truly.”

Meanwhile, Alyssa is pouring on the charm as she talks to Rafe, her fingers twirling a strand of hair.

“When was your last relationship?” She asks, her tone dripping with fake sweetness. Rafe shifts uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze.

“Over a year ago.” He says flatly.

“Was it a bad breakup?” She presses, leaning in closer and Rafe’s jaw tightens.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Relax, it’s just a question.” Alyssa replies with a low chuckle, her eyes shamelessly scanning him. “You work out, don’t you?” He nods curtly, barely holding back his irritation. Alyssa laughs softly at her own comment, but Rafe is already tuning her out. His thoughts drift back to Y/N. He can’t wait to walk away from this pointless conversation and return to her.

Confessional - Rafe “Alyssa is…not Y/N.” He shakes his head slowly, the disappointment clear. “That’s just the truth."

In the kitchen, Y/N is slicing fruit for a smoothie when Pope joins her, sliding onto a nearby stool. His eyes flick toward where Rafe and Alyssa are seated.

“They’ve been talking for a while.” He notes casually. Y/N glances in their direction briefly before returning her attention to the fruit. Her hands move quickly, but her grip on the knife is noticeably tense.

“Are you okay?” Pope asks gently. “Maybe…put the knife down for a second?” Startled, Y/N looks at her trembling hand and sets the knife aside with a sigh.

“I’m fine. Just…you know.” She struggles to explain, but Pope nods knowingly.

“I get it. My ex, she was gorgeous.”

“She’s not dead, Pope.” Y/N quips, cracking a small smile despite herself and he laughs.

“Fair. But yeah, she always got a lot of attention. And I’m not the jealous type, well, I try not to be, but it got to me sometimes.”

“I’m not jealous. I’m just…worried.” Y/N admits.

“That’s fair.” Pope says thoughtfully. “But even if things don’t go as planned, you’ll find someone who’s perfect for you.” He pauses, smirking. “Maybe he’s closer than you think.” Y/N chuckles, shaking her head as Pope blushes.

“Thanks, Pope. I appreciate it.” She says warmly before turning back to her smoothie.

As the sun dips below the horizon, the villa comes alive once again, music and laughter weaving through the air. Islanders mingle, drinks in hand, their conversations buzzing with energy. Y/N sits with Cleo on the daybed, both of them laughing loudly as they chat, until he approaches.

“Hey.” Rafe says casually, drawing both of their gazes. Cleo smirks, rising from her seat.

“I’ll leave you two to do your little Bluetooth thing.” She teases, waving a hand between them. Y/N rolls her eyes, the corners of her lips twitching in amusement.

“See you later, boo.” Y/N murmurs as Cleo leans down to kiss her cheek, then walks away with a knowing grin. Rafe takes her place, kneeling on the daybed before sitting down beside Y/N.

“You okay?” He asks, his voice soft as his eyes fall to her hands, which are busy twisting the rings on her fingers.

“Yeah.” She whispers, but her tone betrays her. Rafe frowns slightly and reaches for her hand, his touch gentle.

“Be honest. Did I do something? You’ve been...distant. Earlier, we were good. Did I say something stupid?” Y/N lifts her head, her eyes meeting his briefly before she shakes her head.

“No, no, you didn’t do anything. It’s just...I...” She trails off, struggling to find the words.

“You can tell me. Whatever it is, I want to know.” He squeezes her hand, his voice steady and comforting. Y/N exhales deeply.

“Alyssa.” She finally murmurs. “She...I’m worried.” Rafe shakes his head immediately.

“You shouldn't be.” He says.

“I mean, I get it…it's pretty early to close things off or anything and of course I'm not gonna ask you to do something like that. It's just…I like…how we are. The vibes, the talks, everything. And…I wanna explore this. But I can't help and worry. You know?” She explains and he nods understandingly.

“Yeah, I get it. And for the record, I do like how things are going too. But…I'm not interested in her.” He assures her, his voice firm. She exhales softly, the tension in her shoulders easing.

“Okay.” She whispers. “But…what if-”

“She's not gonna pick me. I made it pretty clear that I'm not interested in her. Okay? Can you trust me on this?” He asks, grabbing her hand to reassure her. Her fingers tighten around his as she nods, her eyes meeting his. For a moment, everything else fades away. Her breath hitches when his gaze drops to her lips, but the moment is broken by the sharp ping of a phone. Y/N pulls back slightly, her eyes darting to the kitchen where Topper is staring at his screen.

“I got a text!” He announces. “Can all islanders gather at the firepit? #shitisabouttogodown #stealingtime.”

The group buzzes with chatter as they move toward the firepit. Rafe helps Y/N to her feet, keeping her hand in his as they walk. Just before they arrive, he gently tugs her closer.

“We’re going to be okay.” He murmurs, his arm slipping around her waist as he leads her to sit down beside him.

The tension in the air is thick as everyone waits, nerves on edge. Another phone ping sounds and all eyes turn to Alyssa, who smirks as she stands, her phone in hand.

“Alyssa, it’s time for you to choose which boy you want to couple up with.” She reads aloud, stepping forward. The girls exchange uneasy glances, but Y/N keeps her focus on the fire.

“This wasn’t an easy decision.” Alyssa begins, her tone practiced. “I didn’t have much time to think and I’m not sure if it’s the right choice. But this boy made me feel welcome and I really enjoyed the banter we shared. And I think there's more to explore with him.”

“The boy I want to couple up with is...” She pauses, the silence stretching. Sarah glances nervously at Y/N, Kiara’s leg bounces restlessly and Cleo suppresses a yawn.

“Rafe.”

Y/N feels her chest tighten at the reveal, her heart sinking.

“Oh my god.” Maddy whispers. Rafe looks at Alyssa, stunned, before turning to Y/N, whose face is unreadable as she stares into the flames. Alyssa steps closer, extending her hand to Rafe. He rises reluctantly, not touching her, his gaze fixed on Y/N.

Another ping breaks the silence. Y/N picks up her phone with trembling hands.

“Y/N, you are now single.” She reads quietly. “But don’t worry, the best is yet to come. #itsokayboo #troubleinparadise.”

Confessional - Y/N “Yeah…reading that text?” She shakes her head. “Didn’t feel good. Made me wanna throw up. Still kinda does.”

Sarah and Maddy immediately move to her side, guiding her away from the firepit. Rafe steps forward, trying to follow, but Cleo blocks him.

“Give her some time, pretty boy.” She says firmly, following the group with Kiara.

“What the fuck just happened?” JJ mutters, staring into the firepit as the others look on in stunned silence.

In the kitchen, the girls gather around Y/N on the couch, their faces etched with concern.

“How are you feeling?” Sarah asks cautiously and Cleo elbows her.

“What kind of question is that? Obviously, she feels like shit.”

“Cleo!” Maddy snaps, before turning back to Y/N. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

“I’m fine.” Y/N lies, twisting her ring anxiously.

“Don’t do that.” Kiara says softly, kneeling in front of her. “It’s okay to be upset.” Y/N exhales shakily.

“He told me not to worry. That he made it clear to her he wasn’t interested. He said she wouldn’t pick him. And yet...here we are.” The girls all stare at her with sympathy, wanting to comfort her. Before the girls can respond, Rafe’s voice cuts in.

“Can we talk?” He asks.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you.” Kiara snaps, her tone icy.

“Fuck off.” Sarah adds sharply.

“All men do is lie.” Cleo mutters, shoving him back. Rafe stumbles and sighs, his eyes glued on Y/N who looks at Maddy on the other side. Maddy rubs her back as she stares back at her.

“Please.” Rafe says desperately, his eyes fixed on Y/N. “I didn’t know she’d do this. Y/N, come on.” Y/N finally looks up at him, her voice steady but cold.

“She wouldn’t have chosen you if you hadn’t given her a reason to.”

“I didn’t!” Rafe exclaims, frustration coloring his voice. “I told her I wasn’t interested!”

“Yeah, right.” Y/N retorts. “I don’t want to hear it, Rafe. You made me trust you and now you’ve ruined it.”

“I didn’t mean to betray your trust…upset you. I meant it when I said that I'm not into her. Okay? I don't know, she…she must have misunderstood.” He exclaims, Alyssa and the boys following her.

“She didn’t misunderstand.” Alyssa interjects smugly, crossing her arms.

Rafe turns to her, frustration evident in his furrowed brows, but before he can say anything, Y/N stands abruptly from the couch and heads inside the villa. The group shifts their attention to Rafe and Alyssa.

“Alyssa, what do you mean?” Sarah asks, adjusting her dress.

“I mean, Rafe was being nice to me, flirting, even. He never said he was closed off or that he wasn’t interested.” Alyssa claims, her voice laced with confidence. Rafe exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Alyssa, I’m not interested in you. And I wasn’t flirting. I was just being polite. That’s it.” His tone is firm, and Alyssa stiffens at his words. “I like Y/N.” He continues, his voice unwavering.

“I like how things are with her. Yeah, it’s early and she said we should keep our options open, but I’m not keeping them open for you.” With that, he turns on his heel and walks away, leaving everyone stunned, including Alyssa.

Upstairs, Y/N sits on the terrace, absentmindedly twisting a ring on her finger as her eyes glimmer. The soft click of the door closing behind Rafe makes her glance up.

“Can we please talk?” He asks, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. She nods and he steps closer, settling beside her.

“Don’t shut me out.” He pleads. “Yell at me if you have to. Just…don’t shut me out.” Y/N sighs, her gaze dropping to her hands.

“I shouldn’t be upset. We never said we were exclusive and it’s still early. But…when she said you made her feel welcome, that she wanted to explore something with you, it frustrated me. Because you told me you weren’t interested. That you made it clear to her.”

“I did make it clear.” Rafe insists. “I swear, I never meant to give her the wrong idea.” She exhales shakily.

“Trust is a big thing for me, Rafe. And it’s not easy for me to just-” She stops, her voice trailing off. Rafe reaches out, resting a reassuring hand on her thigh.

“I know I messed up. I should have been more direct with her.” His thumb brushes against her skin in a soothing motion. “I get it if you’re upset. You have every right to. But I want to make this up to you, to prove to you that I like you, Y/N. That I’m in this.” His voice softens. “I can’t promise I won’t screw up again, because, honestly? I can be kind of an idiot.” A small laugh escapes her lips and Rafe grins.

“But I can promise to try for you.” He finishes, the sincerity in his eyes catching her off guard. She leans in slightly and he takes the hint, cupping her face gently. Her eyes flicker to his lips.

“I don’t want you to feel obliged to choose me.” She murmurs. “I love spending time with you, but I don’t want you turning people down just because of me or because you think you have to.”

“Just…let's see where this takes us? Okay?” She asks and Rafe doesn’t answer. Instead, he closes the distance, pressing his lips to hers. She stiffens for half a second before melting into him, the kiss soft yet charged. When they finally pull apart, Rafe’s lips curl into a small smile.

“Promise me you won’t shut me out.” He whispers. “I need to hear you. Even if it’s just to tell me I’m being a dumbass.” She rolls her eyes playfully.

“Okay, Rafey.” The moment the nickname leaves her lips, Rafe tenses. He swallows hard.

“Wh-what?” His voice comes out rougher than expected. She smirks.

“Oh, that ridiculous nickname Alyssa called you earlier.” She rolls her eyes, grinning.

“It’s not ridiculous.” He mutters under his breath, making her brows lift in confusion.

“Oh? My bad, I didn’t realize you actually liked it-”

“No, no.” He interrupts quickly. “I don’t mean that. I just-” He hesitates, then exhales. “I don’t like it when she says it. But…when you say it? I don’t mind.” Y/N tilts her head, amused.

“Oh? Good to know.” A knowing smile tugs at her lips as she leans back and Rafe watches her, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle.

Under the night sky, they sit together in comfortable silence, the tension between them slowly fading into something lighter, something undeniable.

Confessional - Y/N “Rafe’s trying. Like, really trying and that’s what matters, isn’t it?” She nods. “I think we’re gonna be just fine.” She gives a small, hopeful smile.

Later that night, as the islanders get ready for bed, Y/N heads downstairs and immediately notices the newly added bed in the room, her name plaque resting on top. She sighs softly, slipping under the covers and getting comfortable. Maddy walks past, pausing just long enough to press a quick kiss to her forehead before heading to her own bed. Moments later, JJ strolls by and stops beside her, smirking.

“You know, Maddy wouldn’t mind me joining you.” He teases. Y/N rolls her eyes, fighting back a smile.

“Go to bed, J.” She says and JJ shrugs.

“Well, I offered.” He exclaims before wandering off. Soon after, Rafe makes his way to his own bed, only to pause when he notices the name plaque on it has changed. His gaze sweeps the room until he spots her. Without hesitation, he walks over, leans down and presses a kiss to her lips before she can react.

“I’m gonna miss you tonight.” He murmurs, his lips still grazing hers. From across the room, Topper and Sarah holler in amusement, making Y/N giggle. She playfully pecks Rafe’s lips once more.

“You mean you’re gonna miss me hogging the blanket?” She teases.

“Oh, 100%.” He deadpans. “I love waking up in the middle of the night freezing while you’re wrapped up like a human burrito.” She laughs, giving him a gentle push.

“Go to your bed.” She murmurs. Rafe smirks, backing away slowly before finally climbing into his bed, conveniently positioned across from hers. He doesn’t take his eyes off her, watching as she shakes her head and turns to chat with Cleo.

Then, Alyssa enters the room. The energy shifts as everyone’s attention flickers toward her. Without saying a word, she moves to her bed and lies down, keeping to the very edge. She doesn’t look at Rafe. Doesn’t speak to anyone.

“Goodnight, everyone!” Kiara calls from across the room, sparking a chorus of sleepy goodnights as the lights dim. Just as the room falls into silence, Rafe’s voice cuts through the darkness.

“Oh, hey, Y/N!” She furrows her brows, cheeks instantly warming, nervous for what to come out of his mouth.

“W-what?”

The entire room seems to hold its breath, waiting for whatever he’s about to say.

“For the love of God and for my sake, please don’t dream of Captain America tonight.” He jokes. Laughter erupts, filling the space. Y/N grins, grabbing her pillow and launching it across the room. It hits Rafe with a muffled thud, making him groan. As the laughter fades and the room settles, Y/N exhales softly, sinking into her bed.

Maybe Rafe was right. They’re going to be okay.

to be continued...

taglist: @cherrygirlfriend @judesgfirl @slickdickwitchbitchh @leather-n-velvet @alinavalentine @littlelamy @nami11 @madiisynnxx @ts1mp0ne @starkeyslibrary @venusluves @rafecameronsfavourite @lolharrystylesissexy @nofacenocase00 @k4yr14 @drewslefttoe @tinie03 @angielvsnick @dellevans @malibuhearts @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @harryweeniee @imawhoreforu @fastlovela @jjmaybankmylovee @miserablebl00d @angeliki-spiteri9711 @drewsnr1slut @laniirackssss @emotionsmgcbabe @oconnrs @missabsey @amterasuu @cornliastreett @pvyden @italk2god @swagmoneydrew @lerclec @emmaaas-posts @dorcas4meadowes @isabellaxlilah @xoxosblogsblog @bxbychxrry @julesbog @annaaaamichelle @st8rkey @lewispool @my-name-is-baby @silkylovey @soincredible

A/N: a little late valentine's day gift for you guys, hehe

[hearts4pbaz]

I'll Fold You

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Words: 5.3K

Warnings: sexual content‼️

Synopsis: Girlfriends, teammates, and now rivals in a very intense bet. When their teammates tease that they can’t go a week without sex, Paige and Azzi make a bet: whoever physically initiates sex first loses.

Notes: i really like how this turned out. this was my first time writing smut, so lmk how it is. your comments or much appreciated

It started on a random Thursday night, like most stupid ideas do. The mood in the shared Bueckers-El Alfy-Ziebell apartment was lazy—empty take-out boxes and snacks strewn around the living room—Ice and KK having come over nearly two hours ago. Azzi, too, if basically living there, still counts as coming over. She was now cuddled up to Paige, the older girl’s hand resting on the caramel skin hidden under Azzi’s hoodie.

“Bro, y’all are disgusting,” Jana said, mouth full of Takis, wagging a red-stained finger at the couple. “Why Paige always got her hand in your hoodie, Azzi? You cold or she just feel up them titties?”

Paige smirked and didn’t move her hand. “Can’t a girl cuddle her girl in peace?”

“No, Jana’s right, y’all act like you ain’t seen each other in years and not five minutes,” Ice added, chuckling from the floor. “I bet y’all can’t go 24 hours without makin’ out.”

Azzi blushed but didn’t back down. “Jealousy isn’t a good color on you Ice,” she quipped.

“Oh, please,” KK chimed in. “Y’all so wrapped up in each other, if one of you leaves the room for longer than five minutes, the other one gets withdrawal symptoms. It’s sick.”

Jana leaned forward, dramatically. “Nah, forreal. Y’all wouldn’t last a week without touching. Without sex? Pfft. Two days. Max.”

Paige looked at Azzi. Azzi looked at Paige. A beat passed.

“You tryna bet?” Paige raised a brow, already grinning like she won.

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “On what?”

“Whoever goes the longest without physically initiating sex wins. First one to cave—loses.”

Jana’s eyes widened. “Ooooh, this is about to be good.”

Azzi held out her hand. Paige shook it firmly. “Deal. Winner gets to have the loser do whatever they want.”

The first 24 hours were fine. Surprisingly easy, even. They’d gone a day without having sex. It was just what being a DI athlete entailed. They kept their usual routine—classes, workouts, film, naps. No biggie. They still slept in the same bed, on the logic that nothing can happen while they’re sleeping, and, sure, their backs were turned like enemies, but they were good. They were fine.

By day two, though? The bet turned into a different beast. 

Azzi tugged her practice jersey off and tried not to look over. Paige was two lockers down, shirtless, abs glistening slightly from sweat, talking with KK about a drill from earlier.

Azzi swallowed hard and focused on unlacing her shoes.

“You good, Az?” Ice asked.

“Fine,” she said, a little too quickly.

Paige caught that.

“Oh, by the way, Az,” she said casually. “You left your sports bra in my laundry again. Wanna come get it later? Or should I bring it to your room… still warm.”

Azzi didn’t even flinch. “You touchin’ my laundry now? Sounds like an invite to me.”

“Someone’s hopeful,” Paige grinned. “But, nah, not an invite, just tryin’ to be helpful.”

Azzi leaned in close, whispering just loud enough. “Tryin’ to be slick.”

Ice, a witness to the interaction, quickly made her way out of the locker room. Mutter something along the lines of, “Y’all still nasty, even when you’re not fucking.”

Later that afternoon, Paige limped into the training room and let out a long, dramatic groan. “Yo, my quads feel like I got tackled by a bus.”

“You always complainin',” KK said, already halfway into the ice bath.

Azzi, already in one of the tubs across the room, raised a brow. “You coming in or just gonna monologue from the door?”

Paige stripped down to her sports bra and compression shorts and slid in with a hiss. “God, this is the worst good idea ever.”

Azzi smirked. “Should I come help you relax?”

Paige turned to her with narrowed eyes. “Ma’am… that is sexual harassment.”

“Oh, now you care about boundaries?”

KK cackled from the corner. “Y’all are disgusting at every temperature.”

“Don’t be mad just ’cause no one wanna flirt with you in an ice tub,” Paige shot back.

Azzi leaned her arms on the edge of her tub, watching Paige with a lazy smile. “You need help warming up after this?”

“Yeah...I’m good,” Paige muttered, avoiding eye contact.

Dinner that night was meant to be chill—just the team and food, glued together by their newfound trauma over Coach’s new conditioning routine. But of course, Paige and Azzi couldn’t help themselves. They sat across from each other, tension thick between them even as they passed around breadsticks.

“You know,” Paige said, stabbing her salad with her fork. “I read somewhere carbs make you more... affectionate.”

“Pretty sure you made that up,” Azzi replied without looking up from her pasta.

“Prove I didn’t.”

Azzi calmly reached for her water and took a slow sip. “Maybe I will. Later.”

KK slams her fork down. “Can y’all stop talking like y’all in a Netflix romcom with a TV-14 rating? Damn.”

Jana nodded. “Y’all got the whole table third-wheeling.”

Ice pushed her plate away. “I can’t eat when Paige is out here tryin’ to seduce a girl over linguine.”

“I’m just vibin’,” Paige said with a shrug, eyes locked on Azzi. “I ain’t doin’ nothin’.”

Azzi smirked. “You ain’t slick, Bueckers.”

“Neither are you, Fudd.”

Later that night in Paige’s room, they went through their normal bedtime routine—brushing teeth, skincare, scrolling TikTok side by side. Like normal. Totally normal.

Paige flopped onto her bed in an oversized tee, pulling the blanket up to her chin like she needed protection. Azzi turned off the main light and climbed into bed with her, placing a pillow between them, humming something soft under her breath.

After a few minutes of silence, Paige peeked over.

“You cold?”

“Nope.”

“...I could warm you up.”

Azzi turned, grinning in the dark. “Is that you initiating?”

“I’m offering... services,” Paige replied. “Like a heated blanket. No strings.”

Azzi laughed quietly. “Nice try.”

They both lay in silence, tension practically crackling in the air.

Paige groaned into her pillow. “This is hell.”

Azzi rolled over. “Goodnight, Paige.”

“Night, Azzi.”

A beat.

“I still hate you.”

“Sure you do.”

The next day, Azzi put Paige to the test. 

“You guys have to stop using me as your free Uber driver whenever you want to go out,” Paige chided, dragging her feet through the parking lot.

“And yet you agree every time we ask,” KK said.  “Also, we gotta see how long you and Azzi can go without jumpin’ each other in public.”

Azzi smirked as they walked into Aritzia, already plotting.

After twenty minutes of half-hearted browsing, Azzi walked into a fitting room, form-fitting, satin dress in hand.

A few minutes later, she poked her head out of the fitting room, eyes flitting to Paige sitting with KK and Ice on one of the couches, “I need you,” she said innocently. “It won’t zip.”

KK’s jaw dropped. “Oh, she dirty.”

“Yo, that’s a trap,” Ice whispered.

Paige stood up off the couch like a moth to a flame anyway.

Inside the tiny fitting room, Azzi, back to Paige, had the dress on, the zipper halfway up.

“Can you—?” she said, looking over her shoulder to meet Paige’s eyes.

Paige gulped. The curve of Azzi’s back was criminal, too muscular for its own good, if you ask Paige.

“Y’know I ain’t losin’ to you,” Paige muttered as she slowly zipped it up, fingers grazing skin like it didn’t matter.

Azzi sucked in, face close. “Then don’t.”

They stared at each other for one long, loaded second.

“Y’all good in there?” Jana called out.

Both jumped like the walls were wired.

After the fitting room debacle, the group made their way out of Aritzia and started strolling through the mall, half window shopping, half people watching.

Ice spotted a Build-A-Bear and dragged KK toward it with an excited “Broooo we makin’ twins.”

Paige and Azzi trailed behind, walking just a little too close.

They stepped onto the escalator, Paige in front, Azzi behind her.

It started innocently. Then Azzi leaned forward, breath just brushing Paige’s ear.

“I didn’t even ask if you liked the dress.”

Paige gripped the rail tightly. “You tryin’ to kill me in public?”

Azzi smirked. “Just wanted your opinion. You were... quiet in there.”

“That was survival silence.”

“Mmhmm.”

As they reached the top, Paige muttered, “Next time I’m zipping you up blindfolded.”

Azzi leaned back, satisfied. “You’d miss.”

Paige looked like she wanted to respond, but decided living was more important.

The girls regrouped at the food court. KK and Ice were hyped about their new stuffed bears, one of which wore a UConn jersey made of cut-up socks. (“Look at the drip,” KK said. “Bear’s better dressed than Ice.”)

Meanwhile, Paige and Azzi stood in line for pretzels, doing their best to act normal, which was getting harder by the hour.

“You want cinnamon or regular?” Paige asked, staring straight ahead.

“Cinnamon,” Azzi said. “You always eat mine anyway.”

Paige snorted. “Lies.”

“You literally stole the last bite last time and said it was ‘your prize for being the better shooter.’”

“That was a fair tax.”

They got their pretzels and sat with the others, chewing in tense silence. Paige took a bite, turned to say something smart, and locked eyes with Azzi, who already had her finger in her mouth, licking cinnamon sugar off it like she didn’t know what she was doing.

Paige dropped her pretzel.

“Y’all see that?” Ice said, eyes wide. “Paige blinked like three times in a row. She glitchin’.”

Azzi looked innocent. “Something wrong?”

Paige looked down at the table as if it had personally offended her. “Nope. Just... hot pretzel.”

KK leans over to Ice. “These two gon’ combust before day five, I’m callin’ it now.”

On the drive back, Paige took the aux cord. She had one rule: vibe control.

But Azzi, sitting up front now, leaned over and subtly skipped every song Paige played after thirty seconds.

“What are you doing?” Paige asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I’m curating the mood.”

Paige scoffed. “You tryin’ to sabotage the mood.”

“Oh, I’m setting one. You just don’t like not being in charge.”

Paige turned down the volume. “Keep it up, Fudd. I’ll put on Baby Shark and blast it.”

“I dare you.”

“You think I won’t ruin everybody’s night with children’s YouTube core?”

“I hope you do,” Azzi said with a smirk. “Because that’s when I’ll know I’ve won.”

KK groaned from the backseat. “Ayo. I don’t care who wins. Just don’t punish us.”

Ice added, “Y’all’s sexual tension got GPS rerouting us to hell.”

Paige cracked a smile, then hit play on “Love Language” by SZA.

Azzi just leaned her head against the window, humming along with the lyrics.

And Paige gripped the steering wheel like it was a flotation device.

Tomorrow was going to be hell.

The fourth day starts at 6 a.m. sharp with team conditioning. Spirits were low. Knees were sore. The gym smelled like effort and regret. Azzi walked in late, hair up in a messy bun, rocking the tightest pair of leggings Paige had ever seen.

Paige tripped over a foam roller.

“Damn, P,” KK said, laughing. “What, the floor attack you?”

“She good?” Ice asked.

“I’m fine,” Paige grunted, shooting Azzi a glare.

Azzi just gave a polite, confused smile like she didn’t know her whole outfit was a psychological assault.

During suicides, Paige caught herself watching the way Azzi moved two steps ahead. After the third glance, she slapped herself in the face.

Ice, jogging beside her, side-eyed. “Yo… what is wrong with you?”

“Shin splints.”

“That’s your face.”

“Mind yo business.”

Later that afternoon in the weight room, the girls were spotting each other for bench press. Azzi sat on the nearby bench, sipping from her water bottle and watching Paige push through a heavy set.

“You good?” she asked sweetly. “You look like you’re struggling.”

“I’m not struggling,” Paige grunted, arms shaking. “I’m dominating.”

Azzi stood up and walked over, a towel over her shoulder. “Need a spot?”

“Nope,” Paige said through clenched teeth.

“You sure? I’m great with my hands.”

KK, at the squat rack, nearly choked on her protein shake.

Azzi backed off with a smirk and returned to her bench. Paige stared up at the ceiling like she needed divine strength.

That evening before the movie night, they all met in the study lounge for mandatory study hall. Paige sat at a table, headphones in, trying to finish an essay. Azzi slid into the seat beside her, placed her laptop down… and then kicked her shoes off.

Paige noticed. Paige definitely noticed.

Then Azzi did the unthinkable—stretched her leg out, bare foot sliding juuust close enough under the table that Paige flinched.

“You got somethin’ to say?” Azzi asked innocently.

“Why are you like this?”

“I’m studying. You’re the one looking at my feet.”

“You put ‘em in my zone.”

“This your foot territory now?”

Paige stood up so fast her chair squeaked.

“Going to the bathroom,” she muttered, walking off.

Jana, across the room, didn’t even look up from her notebook. “Y’all weird.”

And lo and behold, on the fourth day, Azzi showed up to Paige’s room in Paige’s UConn hoodie and no pants.

“Seriously?” Paige asked, eyeing her bare thighs.

“I was cold,” Azzi said, settling on the couch beside her. “Thought maybe we could cuddle.”

Paige sat as far away as the couch would allow. “Then maybe try putting on some pants. You really tryna win, huh?”

Azzi just smiled sweetly. “I’m not doing anything,” climbing into Paige’s bed.

They watched Love & Basketball in tense silence. Paige kept stealing glances. Azzi definitely noticed.

Halfway through, Azzi stretched like a cat, her leg brushing Paige’s.

“You good?” Paige asked, voice hoarse.

“Great,” Azzi said, all innocence. “Just comfy.”

The pair fell asleep before the movie was over, still careful not to be touching.

Paige woke up warm. Too warm.

Sunlight crept through her blinds, and her brain was just starting to come online when she realized:

Azzi. Was. Cuddling. Her.

Correction—they were cuddling. Tangled. Entwined. Azzi’s leg was hooked over her thigh, an arm slung across her stomach like it belonged there, face tucked into Paige’s neck. The pillow that once separated them discarded at the foot of the bed.

Paige didn’t move at first. Her brain was short-circuiting. Warning sirens were going off internally, screaming DANGER and WEAKNESS DETECTED.

Azzi stirred against her, nuzzling in with a sleepy sigh. “Mmm... comfy.”

Paige flinched like the word physically hit her.

“Az,” she said, hoarse. “You’re cheating.”

Azzi didn’t open her eyes. “I’m sleeping.”

“You came in here pantless. You knew what you were doing.”

Azzi cracked one eye open and looked up, voice barely a whisper. “I can leave.”

She moved slightly, just enough that her thigh grazed between Paige’s legs.

Paige actually whimpered. God. Five days no sex was really starting to get to her physically.

“Nope,” she blurted, arm tightening instinctively. “Stay.”

Azzi’s grin was slow, smug, and victorious. “Mmhm. That’s what I thought.”

By some miracle, Paige had made it through the day without spontaneously combusting. Barely.

Classes. Study hall. A team meeting that dragged on forever. Paige buried herself in busy work, headphones in, hoodie up, eyes down. Anything to stay out of Azzi’s gravitational pull.

But Azzi didn’t make it easy.

In the locker room after their lift, Paige spotted her out of the corner of her eye—in just a sports bra and shorts, fresh from the shower, moisture still clinging to her abs. She looked like she belonged in a body wash commercial and a fever dream at the same time.

Paige audibly gulped.

“You okay?” Ice asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m fine,” Paige snapped.

Ice leaned in. “She walk by again?”

Paige didn’t say anything. Which was its own answer.

That night, the team had a little game night. Azzi showed up to kill—this time in tiny sleep shorts and that same damn hoodie Paige always let her borrow.

KK clocked it immediately. “She tryna finish the job,” she whispered to Ice. “That’s the closer fit.”

Paige tried not to look. Tried.

They played Uno. Azzi sat across from her with her legs stretched out, bare thigh brushing Paige’s shin under the table every time she “accidentally” shifted.

“You’re cheating,” Paige muttered when Azzi drew four and placed her card down with a smirk.

Azzi batted her lashes. “I’m playing to win.”

“I meant the game. And life. And this damn bet.”

Azzi gave a knowing shrug, sipping her Gatorade like it was tea. “Maybe you should’ve folded yesterday.”

Later that night, Paige walked into her room and immediately stopped in the doorway.

Azzi was already there. Sitting in her bed. Scrolling on her phone like she owned the place. Lights low. A candle lit on the desk. Hoodie still on. No pants in sight.

Paige closed the door slowly. “You’re not even pretending anymore.”

Azzi looked up. “It’s your bed.”

“And you’re in it.”

“I figured we made it through the day. Thought I’d stay over like usual.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Like usual? Az, we’re at war.”

Azzi patted the blanket beside her. “Truce for the night?”

Paige hovered. “This is how you kill me.”

Azzi shrugged. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You are something.”

That made Azzi smirk. “You gonna sleep on the floor?”

Paige stared at the ceiling. Then exhaled hard like she was being dragged to her doom. “No. I’m gonna regret this in five minutes.”

She slid under the covers, keeping a respectable distance.

Azzi didn’t say anything. Just turned, facing her. Quiet. Calm. A killer in disguise.

Minutes passed. Paige pretended to scroll. Azzi yawned.

Then… Azzi scooted just an inch closer. Their legs touched. Bare skin against bare skin.

Paige flinched. “Az.”

“Hm?”

“You know what you’re doing.”

Azzi blinked, the picture of innocence. “I’m cold.”

“Lie better.”

“I could take the hoodie off instead.”

“Please don’t.”

Another beat of silence.

Then Azzi whispered, “You still holding on?”

Paige was breathing heavier now, eyes on the ceiling like it could save her.

“Barely.”

Azzi leaned in, lips just barely avoiding Paige’s jaw.

“You don’t have to.”

Paige snapped her head to face her.

And that was it.

Paige kissed her. Hard. Five days of tension—five days of wanting—five days of holding back finally spilling out. Her hands came up, cupping Azzi’s jaw as she nibbled down on the older girl’s bottom lip, swiping her tongue over it. 

Azzi let out a noise low in her throat. And it made Paige feel like she’d been lit on fire. Paige’s lips moved down to Azzi’s jaw and neck as she threw one leg over Azzi’s hips, straddling her, laying them both down on the bed.

Paige’s hands were just about to slide under Azzi’s hoodie when she spoke up, Paige freezing above her, “Ah, not so fast. I won, which means I get to have you do anything I want.”

“And that is…?” Paige questioned breathlessly, clearly not understanding the implications of Azzi’s current power.

Wrapping her arms around Paige’s neck, lifting herself to meet her ear, Azzi whispered, “All you have to do is behave. Just listen to what I tell you to do while I’m fucking you with the strap.”

Azzi’s comment made Paige sit up, “Azzi, no. No way am I being fucked by you.”

“A bet’s a bet, Paigey,” she leaned in closer, lowering her voice again, “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Paige sighed, “Fine, it’s in the closet, the orange Nike shoe box.”

Azzi smiled, leaning down to plant a peck on Paige’s lips before jumping off the bed, making her way over to the closet. 

Paige flopped down on her back, staring at the ceiling, a twinge of something bordering excitement settling low in her stomach. 

Azzi returned, tossing the toy on the bed, moving to straddle her legs on top of Paige. She looks down at the older girl, fingers coming to fiddle with Paige's hoodie strings, “I’ll only do this if you're actually okay with it, and you say the word and I’ll stop,” she hums.

Paige didn’t say anything at first, she just looked up at Azzi, eyes wide, and then lifted her head to plant a peck on the brunette’s lips, “Okay,” she says softly.

A small smile played on Azzi’s lips,” Great,” she chimed before connecting both their lips. The kiss was tender and soft, letting the heat build between them naturally. Azzi’s hands travelled down to the hem of Pagie’s hoodie, pulling her up to sitting, tugging it over her head, then tossing it to the floor beside her. Paige’s sports bra quickly followed, leaving her only in the sweatpants hanging low on her hips and the pair of boxers peaking out of the waistband of her sweats.

Paige lay back down, her blonde hair splayed out on the pillow as Azzi adjusted herself on top of her. Azzi began to trail kisses downward, stopping at the junction of Paige’s neck sucking the spot above her collarbone, before running her tongue along the area, continuing her minstrations further south.

Her mouth then came to Paige’s breasts, lips closing around one nipple, one hand moving to cup the other. She dragged her tongue and thumb over the pebbled buds, making Paige inhale sharply, throwing her head back. 

Azzi then travelled over to the valley between Paige’s breasts, resting her chin there momentarily, looking up at the blonde, she whispered, “You’re so pretty like this, all laid out f’me.”

Paige didn’t respond, instead, she threw an arm over her face in an attempt to hide the blush creeping onto her cheeks. Warmth pooled low in her stomach.

Azzi’s mouth moved lower, eventually coming to the patch of skin directly below Paige’s navel and directly above the waistband of her sweatpants. Azzi looked up at Paige, silently looking for permission to take off the last of the blonde’s clothing. 

Paige met Azzi’s eyes, her own pleading and glassy, and nodded her head, “Please,” she breathed.

With that, Azzi wasted no time, quickly tugging the offending article away from Paige’s legs, discarding it in the same way she did with her hoodie and sports bra. Pants now off, Paige was left in just a pair of light blue boxers, which had a very visible wet patch growing at their center.

“God, you’re soaked already, baby, and I haven’t even touched you yet,” Azzi purred, breath ghosting over the damp fabric.

Paige shivered, “Azzi, please, I need you,” she whined.

“What did you want, pretty? My fingers? My mouth? Use your words.”

“F–fingers. I want your fingers,” Paige stuttered out. 

“Okay,” Azzi said softly, running her fingers up over the dark patch of Paige’s underwear to the waistband. Paige squirmed, hissing out a breath. Then, Azzi hooked her fingers under the elastic, pulling them down, leaving Paige fully exposed. 

Now having Paige completely bare, Azzi moved back upward to make eye contact with the older girl, holding herself above her with her left arm as her right reached down. With one finger, she dragged through Paige’s folds, collecting warm slick on her finger. 

A small gasp slipped from Paige’s lips, closing her eyes, she tipped her head back.

Just then, Azzi’s hand came up from Paige’s core to her chin, tugging her head back, “I want you to look at me. Don’t close your eyes.”

Azzi dragged her hand back down to Paige’s center, doing as she had before. Collecting more of Paige’s arousal on her finger, dragging upward to coat Paige’e clit. Her finger stayed there for a beat, pressing down on the bud, moving it in firm, tight circles. Paige gasped, gripping the sheets, as she struggled to keep eye contact with Azzi. 

Slowly—tantalizingly so—Azzi’s finger moved to Paige’s entrance, resting there, moving a millimeter at a time before Azzi finally pushed the digit into Paige without much resistance. At first, Azzi didn't pull her finger out any, she just curled the very tip of it into Paige’s sweet spot repeatedly, until she felt Paige’s breath pick up, that’s when she started to thrust her finger in and out of the older girl, still curling her finger to hit the spongy spot inside the blonde.

“Ah—fuck! Az, I—need more,” Paige choked out frustratedly. And wordlessly, Azzi added another finger, picking up her pace, as she leaned down to capture Paige’s lips in a kiss, tongue pushing into her mouth. 

As Azzi continued her precise movements, Paige’s excess slick started to pool at the base of Azzi’s fingers, dripping down into her palm. Adjusting the position of her arm, Azzi pushed the heel of her palm into Paige’s clit. Paige ground down in response, a noise—something resembling a moan—only more guttural escaped from her throat. 

“You like that, don’t you?” Azzi hummed.

“Fuck, Az. Don’t stop—I’m close,” Paige replied, as both hands clutched a fistful of sheet. 

Azzi could feel Paige’s walls tightening as she neared the edge, and with one firm, well-timed thrust, Paige tipped over it. Thighs clamping around Azzi’s hand, mouth open, moan lost on her lips. Azzi fingered her through it until Paige pushed her hand away, “Shit, too much, too much Az,” 

Azzi pulled her fingers out of Paige slowly, “I’m sorry, baby,” she said as she climbed off the bed, grabbing the strap she’d set aside earlier. “You think you got one more for me?”

Paige let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, if you give me a minute.”

After peeling off all her clothes, leaving her clad in just a black Nike sports bra, Azzi began to put on the strap. She had seen and or helped Paige put it on enough times for her to have little trouble adjusting the harness to her hips. Coming to straddle Paige again, Azzi brought her still-wet fingers to the other girl’s mouth, “Open,” Azzi said. Paige hesitated but obliged, taking the fingers into her mouth sucking her own juices off her girlfriend’s fingers. Azzi removed her fingers from Paige’s mouth, bringing them down to glide along the length of the toy, effectively lubricating it. “You ready now?” Azzi asked the older girl. Paige nodded.

Azzi repositioned herself on top of Paige, she gripped the base of the toy with her dominant hand, the other coming to spread Paige’s wet folds as she dragged the tip of the toy through them.

Azzi placed a kiss on Paige’s lips before she lined herself up with Paige’s center, slowly pushing the strap into her. As Azzi’s bottomed out, Paige let out a low groan. What surprised Azzi, however, was that as she pushed the toy in, she could feel the base of it pressing against her. Before, she’d always thought Paige was being dramatic when she’d say things like ‘You feel so good.’ Now, she understood what Paige had meant, but alas, she kept a poker face. 

Hovering above Paige, Azzi began to move. She started with slow, tender thrusts, getting used to the feeling of controlling the toy with her hips. As she became more confident, she picked up her pace just slightly. Azzi moved closer to Paige, dropping down onto her forearms, Paige’s head bracketed by Azzi’s biceps. 

Azzi continued at her pace, listening to the sounds she was able to force out of her girlfriend when it happened. A particularly firm thrust that sent the base of the strap into Azzi’s core harder than she’d anticipated, her rhythm faltered. She sucked in a sharp breath, quickly trying to return to the original tempo she’d set. 

But it was too late, Paige had noticed and was arpearently, not fucked out enough to speak up about it, “You can feel it can’t you?” she whispered into Azzi’s ear. “It’s okay if you don’t last much longer, that’s typical for a first timer.” 

And apparently Paige’s comment had flipped a switch in Azzi’s brain, because all of a sudden, she pulled out, climbing off Paige and off the bed.

“Ah—what the–”

“Stand up,” Azzi said firmly.

“Why?” Paige questioned.

“I said, stand up.”

Paige followed without any further questions, stood up off the bed to face Azzi. Then, with concerning ease, Azzi grabbed Paige’s hips, spun her around, and pushed her upper half onto the bed. Still gripping Paige’s hips, Azzi leaned down to her ear and whispered, “I think you must’ve forgotten who’s in control here. You’re gonna listen to me until we’re done. ‘Kay?” 

With the side of her face, the better part of her upper half pressed into the mattress, hips in the air, Paige nodded frantically. 

“Great,” Azzi said pointedly. Lining herself back up with Paige’s core. This time, she didn’t stall; instead, she snapped her hips forward, sending the length of the toy into Paige, quickly finding a faster rhythm than before.

“Agh—fuck!” Paige yelled as the strap was thrust into her harder than she anticipated.

The sounds now filling the room were obscene, skin slapping, mixed with the sound of Paige’s slick center and both girls’ moans. Azzi, by some miracle, was able to keep her pace. And as Paige’s legs began to shake, she felt herself reaching her own climax. It didn’t take long before her rhythm became sloppier. She bent down to litter kisses across the back of Paige’s neck, while her hand reached around to circle Paige’s clit. With that, Paige let out a sound that indicated she’d abandoned any attempt to remain quiet for her roommates’ sake. And that sound was what did it, sending both girls tumbling over the edge. Azzi tried her best to keep fucking Paige through her orgasm, until—right as she thought Paige was coming down from her high and she could slow down, she felt a gush of warm liquid coat her thighs and the pair froze.

Pushing herself back to standing, Azzi looked down to see droplets running down Paige’s thighs. “Oh. My. God. Did you just—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Paige replied, muffled, face buried in the bedding wishing it would just swallow her whole.

Azzi takes it as her cue to undo the strap, letting it drop to the floor to deal with later as she makes her way to the bathroom to get a warm wash cloth. 

When she returned, she found Paige lying on the bed, face covered by her hands. Azzi climbs onto the bed with her, removing Paige’s hands, covering her face with kisses instead. Azzi then moved down to wipe between Paige’s legs with the cloth, doing the same for herself after. She sets the cloth aside, moving to tuck both of them in under the covers. Paige snuggled into Azzi’s side, head buried in the crook of Azzi’s neck. “Just so you know, that was like the hottest thing ever. I might have to try and get you to squirt every time we have sex now,” Azzi teased. 

Paige turned her head, looked up at Azzi, her eyes glassy, looking quite frankly destroyed . Before turning her head back into Azzi’s neck and muttering, “Die.”

Azzi just laughed, about to join Paige in sleep, when she heard Paige’s phone buzz. She reached over to grab it, checking who the message was from. It was Jana, the message read:

Jana: you guys are nasty fucking freaks. i hate living here

Opening the camera, Azzi snapped a photo, her tongue out to the camera, Paige still nuzzled in her neck. She sends it with the message: guess who won the bet?

[claralikesellie]

fuckass streamer!ellie headcanons pt 2

check out my other headcanons here!!!

──── warnings: brainrot level god. used some of my mooties usernames for the chat bc im sorry im not that creative gang... TONYWRIGHT984 IS A CREEPPPPPP. lowkey short...😔. also i do NOT proof read🥀

──── author’s note: HELLO gng !! SOOOO sorry for taking so long… literally experienced writers block (if u can even consider this writing💔💔) hope yall liek this.. if u wanna b added to the taglist!!

౨ৎ

⌗⌗⌗ bro LOVES to react to all kinds of videos, like one day she’ll be reacting to five minutes crafts and another one she’s reacting to top 10 craziest water slides in the world

“yoooooo this one is INSANE i would never get on it”

| -‘enderwoahswife’: girl that slide is faker thn my ex💔

“uhhh you might be right it kinda looks a bit off…”

⌗⌗⌗ one day, she was reacting to those “Despacito is actually a satanic song” conspiracy vids and making the most dramatic gasp before going, “guys… they’re onto me” in a completely serious voice.

⌗⌗⌗ always asks chat “would you rather” questions but make it as weird and wtf as possible

“chat would you rather have a fidget spinner or BE a fidget spinner”

| -‘pinkklesbian: ?????’

| -‘freddyfazdyke: def be one’

| -‘iluvyeatxo: wjat’

”okay but hear me out, would you rather eat a poop flavored ice cream or eat a REAL poop that tastes like ice cream. let that SINK in.” then she crosses her arms and stares at the camera, making that smirk roblox face.

| -‘tonywright984: id rather eat your poop🥺🥺

| -‘elliewoahssidechick: EAT REAL POOP THAT TASTES LIKE CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM

| -‘isabelckl: second option lil bro

| -‘emowhofromwhoville: are u guys actually dumb??? the smartest option is to eat a poop flavored ICE CREAM, not REAL poop??? yall would get e coli or smth like that bruh😭😭

| -‘ironheart764: @emowhofromwhoviIle u MIGHT be onto something

| -‘elliewoahssidechick: IMMA STILL GO W THE SECOND OPTION😂😂😂😂

⌗⌗⌗ shes ALWAYS flexing. like bro could be playing fnaf 4 and when she gets jumpscared she puts the controller down and starts flexing her biceps.

“you guys, I could actually take foxy in a fight. like look at my muscles. my bicep, look at it—this shits like a nuclear bomb. i hit foxy and bro’s catching radiation too.

⌗⌗⌗ one day someone sent her a link of a yt video of a GROWN MAN like around his 70s and he was DISSING ellie so hard bro like a whole new level of hate. he was so offended and kept accusing her of TRAFFICKING “naruto”😭😭😭😭 (????)

“what the fuck is even naruto???? isn’t that like an anime???? why is this grandpa saying i trafficked 10 tons of naruto???”

⌗⌗⌗she literally made an email (enderwoahslit@gmail.com) just for people to send her info so she could pull phone pranks on them. people absolutely LOVED it. she gets so into the character its INSANE.

“okay guys, lets read this”

“LMAOOO okay gang lets call him”

…

- ‘yeah?’

- “hello, morning! am I talking to theo?”

- ‘uhh… yeah? who’s calling?’

- “let’s see… im uhh.. stella—and im calling from comcast xfinity, and according to the system, it looks like you’ve been trying to reach us a couple of times.”

- ‘oh yeah, i’ve been having issues with my internet lately… well, for the past two weeks. someone came but didn’t figure out my issue.’

- “hm, i see… go on and tell me what’s the problem and i’ll see what i can do.”

- ‘well, first of all, im not getting the speed i paid for and i keep getting disconnected.’

- “mm, so you’re having disconnects…”

- ‘yes, basically your connection, uhh the one you sell is useless, honestly.”

- “excuse me?”

- ‘i said that i find it useless, honestly.’

- “alright theo, let’s try to be polite here, because if we start throwing DARTS at each other we’re gonna end up POISONED.”

- ‘eh… sorry if i offended you but—‘

- “no no, don’t worry. we all get a little heated sometimes… okay, i’m gonna try to access your router, so i’ll put you on hold for a bit, okay?”

- ‘sure.’

- “i’m putting on some music.”

⤷ bro proceeds to blast “canyonero” from the simpsons at full volume, covering her mouth with her shirt to stifle her laughter. after 5 seconds she clears her throat.

- “alrighty theo, i’m back. so, i think i’ve accessed your router, and i want to run some checks to see if the problem is actually your computer and not the internet.”

- ‘eh… okay, what do i do?’

- “please open your calculator and do this operation:”

- ‘okay?’

- “one plus one equals?”

- ‘two.’

- “looks like your computer is working fine, hm…”

- ’it’s not my computer, it’s the connection…’

- “let’s try another one, a bit more complicated.”

- ‘eh… okay.’

- “one plus one plus two minus one. what’s that?”

- ‘…three.’

- “wow, seems like your computer really is working fine, huh?”

- ‘yes, i already told you, my computer is fine… it’s the connection that’s bad.’

- “okay, i need you to get close to your router, please.”

- ‘eh… for what?’

- “well, get closer and shout a bit, because i’m not sure… i accessed a router, but i don’t know if it’s yours. if you shout and cause vibrations, i can detect it and confirm it’s the right one. yeah?”

- ‘hold on… shout at the router?’

- “yes, to see if i detect the vibrations. come closer and let out a yell.”

⤷ ellie is barely holding it together, red as a tomato, pinching her nose to stop laughing.

- ‘are you serious?’

- “totally theo. i need to confirm im in your router… come closer and AAAGH, shout”

⤷ she shouts and the chat floods with people saying “that’s gonna get clipped.” (it did)

- ‘one sec… a AAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAA’

⤷ as theo shouts, ellie snorts and falls off her chair laughing.

- “oh my FUCKING god im sorry dude, this was a prank from your friend anthony LOL i couldn’t hold it in anymore”

⤷ and before theo can respond, she hangs up and continues laughing, out of breath, still on the floor.

“YO CHAT THIS WAS FIRE I CANT BREATHE OH MY”

| -‘abbysreal-wife: LMAOOO HE ACTUALLY YELLED AT THE ROUTER I CANTT’

| -‘user101notfound: this was so funny please do more prank calls’

| -‘claralikesenderw: I CAN T BIRTH😭😭😭😭😭😭’

⌗⌗⌗ she absolutely LOVES to clickbait w her thumbnails and titles

OPENING DEEP WEB BOXES!! (100% REAL NO FAKE) **actual c0rpse inside

⌗⌗⌗ bro didn’t even got deep web boxes, she just reacted to those 2019 yt videos unboxing the boxes

“you guys i get that this can be funny but imagine if some dumb kid sees this and actually goes like hm i wanna get those cool mystery boxes too imma enter the deep web. like thats lowkey dangerous please supervise your little siblings or cousins our whatever u have yall be safe”

| -‘valeisaslut: ellie caring for children? must be my last day on earth’

| -‘mymomlikesmybf: who are u and what have u done w ellie’

| -‘sigmaboy67: let them in the deep web they’ll grow character’

“god FORBID a girl care about children’s safety dude”

⌗⌗⌗ when starting a stream, she would randomly get all worked up and start yapping about nonsense while the chat is like can you fucking quit yapping and get straight to the point??

“yo guys its been a month since i last played fnaf and im a bit out of practice. but like my grandpa once told me—y’know, getting out of shape is solved by working out. honestly… my grandpa never said that, but hey, it sounds good.”

| -‘peppermintsocks: you dont even have a grandpa😭😭

| -‘juliettesaltacc: ur onto somthing (ccrackkk)’

| -‘robloxisas5: can you get to the point alr’

“i really love making up stuff your grandpa supposedly said. like, one time he supposedly told me that smoking weed is healthy, right? of course, you go… and smoke, just ‘cause you made it up. your grandpa never told you anything. hell, he probably didn’t even like you.”

| -‘drpepperluvr: STOP THIS MADNESS’

| -‘therealmitsukikoga: ur just yapping straight nonsense’

| -‘freddyfazdyke: guys someone stop her’

“imagine you’re at a dinner with friends and you go, ‘my grandpa once told me that you’re all assholes.’ and they can’t prove it’s a lie, so they leave thinking… maybe i am an asshole. how are you gonna question what an 80-year-old says? you CANT. an 80-year-old is superior. knows way more about life. so if he says you’re an asshole… yeah, lil bro, you are.”

| -‘spongbov0: that lowkey makes sense’

| -‘livelaughlovewe3d: are you high’

| -‘xXdunkin4lifeXx: that’s nice sweetie’

⌗⌗⌗ bro only reposts on her tt acc edits of her or those fuckass videos of ai animals dancing and talking or stuff like that and she always comments some shit like “is this real im shaking” or “did it actually say this”. she then has to delete them bc they always go viral💔💔

⌗⌗⌗ she has the weirdest and most delusional intros ever, ppl always clip her and these go viral in tiktok too, which makes her look like a fool but also gain more subscribers…. a win is a win💪🏼

“yo gang whats good!!!! everyone fine? everything chill? …yeah? love that for yall. me? im doing amazing… being sexy and irresistible, as always.”

⤷pause, smirk, hand through hair

| -‘angelsglitch: oh no not again’

| -‘tonywright984: @angeIsglitch im gonna touch you’

“first of all—yeah, sorry about that, it just comes out, y’know? just i can’t help it. so many people dm me like, ‘ellie please, stop being so sexy.’ and im like… brooo i swear i cant control it but it i tryyy😫”

| -‘kingofeyeliner: this girl is such a loser outcast nerd i have GOT to fuck her’

| -‘eughstevie_: bros delusional again’

| -‘1creeperewman: nurse shes awake’

| -‘elliesleftbicep: @kingofeyeIiner wait what’

“like, i literally try to dress bad. purposely mess up my hair. but then i look in the mirror and im like—“

⤷leans in, dramatic pause

“fuckkk… that’s me? lowkey wanna eat myself” 😪

| -‘freddyfazdyke: PREACHHHH’

| -‘tonywright984: i want to eat yo pusi😔’

| -‘flutterlesbian: tony gotta log off’

| -‘beachbambii: how is tony not banned alr????’

| -‘juliettesaltacc: @tonywright984 bro chill’

౨ৎ

taglist: @abbysreal-wife @flutterlesbian @caitvisthirdmember @marleeeen111 @musicbrownie @pearlescent0o @lunarhope8 @brooklynsbookworm @iadorefineshyt

[gurugirl]

Sex Tutor

Summary: Harry's got a reputation on campus and you're curious to know if he can help you.

A/N: Requested! Thank y'all for being patient with me! Hope you enjoy! This will be 2 parts!!

Word Count: 10k

Warning: smut (oral sex), fluff, praise kink

. . .

“Yeah… that was good. I liked it.”

That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping to get. You thought Gunther would be a lot more enthusiastic after coming in your mouth and you swallowing him down. You gave it your best work. You even choked a couple of times and you did hear him moan once or twice. But that didn’t feel like enough

You wanted to ask him exactly what went wrong. Tips on what he liked and didn’t. What you could do better next time… But instead, he just smiled and kissed your cheek, avoiding your mouth because obviously kissing the lips that had just sucked his cock would be gross.

So you left his dorm feeling a little disappointed in yourself. Annoyed really. You wished you were more bold and could just ask him what he wanted, what he liked most. You complained to your roommate even. She loved giving advice so you were always venting to her.

“Well, you know there’s like this guy on campus who will walk you through that kind of thing… a sex tutor if you will. Let’s just say that he comes highly recommended. I know someone who hung out with him a few times, and she learned so much about her body and how good sex could feel without coming but he always made her come every time, and no man has ever done that to her before she told me.”

“A tutor for blow jobs?” You scrunched your face and giggled.

“Well, blow jobs and everything else really. I don’t know. He gets around and they say he’s very knowledgeable about the body and sex. I think he’s like getting his masters in sexual health or something?”

You shoved at her shoulder and laughed, “Oh my god I don’t think so. That sounds crazy. He’s probably some weird pervert or something.”

Your roommate turned her cellphone screen to face you, showing you an Instagram page with a photo of a very attractive young man you’d seen on campus a time or two.

“That’s him?” Your eyes widened as you looked from the photo to your roommate.

“Yup. He’s not a weirdo either. I hear he’s super respectful and smart. Plus the bonus is that he looks like this.”

You nodded. That certainly was a bonus. Harry Styles. You knew about him from the student council. He did a lot of volunteering on campus and he was a graduate student so you didn’t know him all that well, being only a sophomore yourself, but it was hard not to at least know the name and the face. He was popular. Clearly far more popular than you even realized.

And you definitely weren’t going to reach out for a “session”. That just felt silly. Though, you couldn’t say you weren’t intrigued by the idea, it just wasn’t for you. Except that when Gunther didn’t text or call you back for three full days, the whole time you wondered if your blow job was that bad. So when he did finally text you back to make plans for the following week, you felt like you were being given another chance to prove how good you could be. And maybe a lesson or two could be useful.

Reaching out to him via DMs on Instagram felt so unserious but you still did it. You cringed as you hit send and read over your message three times.

Hi! I heard you give special “tutoring” sessions and wanted to know if you have some time to meet with me to set something up? Let me know if it’s okay.

You couldn’t believe you were doing this, reaching out to a stranger for, basically, a booty call. But apparently he was used to it and had no qualms about responding to you in less than thirty minutes. As if he was running some kind of business.

Hi! Happy to meet up with you either tonight or Friday night. The initial meeting should only take like 20 minutes, somewhere public so you feel comfortable. I’ll ask you a few questions and then we’ll set up a private one-on-one session together if it makes sense for both of us. No pressure ever. Whenever you’re ready.

Private one-on-one session. You rolled your eyes as you read over Harry’s response.

Tonight is good for me if you can fit me in. Whatever time you want.

You didn’t know what to expect. You imagined he was cocky since he was apparently so good and sought after. Perhaps he would take one look at you and turn around. You were sure he had a say in who he “tutored”. Doubted he took on every single person who reached out to him.

Your roommate said he was respectful but you would place money on the fact that he was probably full of himself, being that he was a self-proclaimed Sex Guru. You were preparing yourself for someone with a larger-than-life personality.

You kept your outfit casual, not wanting to look like you were trying too hard. Jeans and a hoodie. Though you did shower and put on nice panties and made sure you smelled good. Just in case. One never knows when they are due to visit with a sex tutor.

Maud’s was one of your favorite spots on campus. They had the best iced matcha latte and that’s just what you ordered yourself when you arrived. You sat down at a small table and faced toward the door so you could keep an eye out.

You were looking down at your cell phone when you heard the chime of the door. Flitting your eyes up and away from the screen of your phone you scanned the entry and spotted him right away.

He was wearing a black pullover hoodie and jeans. His hair all tousled like he’d just finished a “tutoring” session. You raised your hand to wave at him and catch his attention and he grinned as you stood up but he gestured for you to stay seated, “I’ll be right back. Just gonna order a drink.”

You were already feeling hot and embarrassed. God, what were you doing? The man was sex on legs and that deep, raspy voice he just spoke to you with had your insides twisting and turning all mushy.

When he returned he had an iced tea and he sat across from you. The smile on his face was kind. Open. It set you at ease a bit.

He took a sip through his straw and you noted the rings on his fingers and the nail polish on his nails, “So, Y/n. It’s nice to meet you in person. What are you majoring in?”

Okay. Small talk. You could handle that.

You told him your classes and what you were majoring in and then asked him the same and when he explained he was going for his doctorate in psychology with the intent to become a sex therapist you felt your heart thump wildly. He was gorgeous and going for a doctorate. The man was so beyond out of your league that you wondered why he was even sitting at that table with you entertaining this silly request of yours.

“Wow. That’s… I’m impressed.”

He grinned and you saw a dimple carve into his cheek, “Thank you. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am. Still working, though. So let’s talk about what you want. What things are you interested in getting some guidance on?”

Here it was. The moment you’d been dreading. But also what you were most curious about.

“Well, I’m seeing this guy and,” you took a breath. It was embarrassing to say it so casually at a café on campus of all places.

Harry reached toward you and placed his warm palm over the top of yours, “Hey, I know this feels weird. Doing this. I’m not going to pressure you to say it if you find it’s too uncomfortable but just know,” he dipped his head down to meet your gaze with his brows gently raised, “Everything you tell me here will be kept confidential and private. I’m not going to make fun of you or compare you to anyone else. If you change your mind, that’s okay too. I want you to feel like you’re talking to a friend. Okay? It’s up to you how much or how little you say. We move at your pace.”

You let out the breath you were holding and smiled. He was so – nice. He made you feel so at ease.

“Thank you. It’s weird. Yeah… but I think I’m okay. I want to do this. I want to be better at like,” you looked around yourself and lowered your voice as Harry moved his hand from yours and you settled your gaze back on his, “Better at giving blow jobs. And maybe like initiating more?”

He nodded, “Okay. Have you ever given a blow job before?”

You nodded, “Recently. The guy didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it so I didn’t know if I did something wrong.”

He took a sip of his tea and his green irises bored into yours, “I can tell you one thing I know that is true for nearly every single male I know; they love getting head. Even if he wasn’t vocal he probably really enjoyed whatever you did. Does that make you feel better about your skill level?”

You puffed out a laugh and saw the smirk on his face. He was trying to get you to smile, “I don’t know. Probably. I’m sure I’m overthinking it but I just wanted… like I want to be really good. Want to know tricks to get a real response.”

“Did the guy you’re seeing orgasm?”

You nodded again.

Harry’s grin softened, “Then you did as good as you could have. Goal achieved. He orgasmed and you made that happen.”

“But I want to be better. Like… I really enjoyed what I was doing. Made me really… well…” you looked down at your empty mug and sighed, “I felt like I enjoyed it more than he did.”

He nodded and licked his lips and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was kind of checking you out. You weren’t wearing anything revealing but he seemed to keep dropping his gaze to your lips and neck. But you figured that was because he was still getting used to your face and he was sussing you out a bit to see if he wanted anything to do with you beyond this conversation.

But that was true. He was checking you out. He saw your Instagram pictures before he contacted you (always his first step) and thought you were cute and wouldn’t mind seeing you in person. He certainly wasn't disappointed by you when he saw you either. You were cute and a little nervous and when you started talking about how you enjoyed giving that loser a blow job he couldn’t help but shift his eyes down to your mouth and imagine what your lips would look like on his cock. He wondered if you’d be just as eager to suck him off as you seemed like you were for the other guy.

Now, Harry was a polite and nice man. He was as respectful as they came. But he was still a man with a very high sex drive and he couldn’t help it. He did enjoy having sex and he got a lot of ass because he was good at what he did. And he was under no allusion that it also didn’t have anything to do with how attractive he was. Because of course, it did. He was aware of the way women looked at him and all the whispers about him on campus. And most of the time the sessions were just fun sex more than anything else. However, he happily gave guidance when needed.

And this time he was feeling pretty gung-ho to see what you could do. He’d like to get started right away, which normally he’d wait until after the initial meeting before jumping into it but there was something about the way you were looking at him, your eyes hungry and inviting…

You watched Harry shift in his chair and look around the café before he looked back at you, “What are you doing right now? Like after this?”

“Oh… nothing. Was gonna read a little, prep for a test I have on Monday. But…” you shook your head.

“Would you be interested in going somewhere more private? My studio is at the off-campus university apartments. Twenty-minute walk from here.”

Was he…? You scrunched your brows, confused at the sudden invite to his place.

“It’s up to you. I’m not rushing you or anything I just have a free evening and you seem really enthusiastic and I’d like to kind of get a feel for what we’re working with. If you think you’re ready.”

You nodded, “Okay. I mean… yeah. So no roommates?” You laughed nervously as he stood up and it was the first time you let your attention fall to the space at his crotch, to which you quickly bobbed your eyes back up to his face as you stood.

“Nope. Co-ed apartments. No roommate. Super private.” He didn’t miss the way you scraped your eyes over his torso and down to the spot on his jeans where his zipper was.

So that was that then. You’d be getting a lesson sooner than you imagined. And when you walked the twenty minutes through campus and the street that was just adjacent to the cafeteria you could almost hear your heart pounding. He was taller than you expected. He easily kept the conversation alive with small talk. He seemed so confident and easygoing. You tried to let that charisma and charm soak through your veins so that you weren’t as nervous as you felt, but it was impossible. You were about to go into Harry Style’s apartment alone and probably give him a blow job.

Harry waved at a few people on your way up to his floor. He was clearly popular. You wondered if anyone knew what might be happening. Why you were with him and why you were following behind him like you were a pup being trained and he was carrying a treat.

“Here she is,” he opened his door and gestured for you to walk inside. Neat and tidy with stacks of books and lots of plants. Some plants hanging, most potted, and on the floor or on tables. You noted he had no television and that there was a big partition that separated the small living space from what was probably where he had his bed. The kitchen was organized with open shelving and he’d bought a wire rack and it was stacked full of packaged foods, spices, oil, and other things to cook with at the top and at the bottom with pots and pans and a blender with its cord neatly wrapped around the base.

He excused himself to the bathroom while you looked around. There wasn’t anywhere to go really. There were two doors in the whole place. The bathroom door and another one, which you assumed was a closet. The kitchen area was open to the small living space.

When Harry emerged he sat down on the couch, which looked well-worn. You wondered how many people he’d had over and on that very couch. He sat with his legs spread and drew his arms over the back of the couch and just watched as you stepped in closer toward the small coffee table, “I like all the plants,” you commented.

He nodded and you clasped your hands behind your back in wait for what would happen next. You didn’t want to look again at his crotch. But the way he was sitting made it hard. He took up so much space on that couch and with his legs spread open like they were, it was almost as if he wanted you to.

“Gonna sit with me? I’m not gonna do anything if you don’t want.”

You nodded and sat down, keeping your limbs close to your body and separate from him. You didn’t want to invade his space or get in too close. Not yet anyway. Not until he invited you. Or rather, until he told you what to do next.

“Everything I said at Maud’s still stands. If you change your mind that’s fine. I’m not going to be mad.”

You turned to look at him and swallowed. The guy was out of this world. Simply delicious looking. “Okay.” You spoke in barely above a whisper.

Harry leaned forward, putting his elbows over his knees as he kept his eyes on you, “Is this how you usually initiate?”

You raised your brows and shook your head, “What?”

“You said you wanted to be better at initiating. So far, I’m not getting any signals that you’re interested. Could be your first problem. Try relaxing a little, Y/n. Sit back and unhook your fingers. Loosen your shoulders. Not only will you feel more settled, but you’ll make the person with you feel better too. Which could push you to naturally begin conversation or movements that encourage contact.”

“Oh. Okay,” you sat back into his couch and loosed your hands, relaxing your posture, and looked at him, “Like this?”

Harry grinned and let out a small laugh, “Perfect. Now at least it appears you’re not scared of me.”

“I’m not scared,” you quickly shook your head.

“I didn’t think you were. But your body language was giving closed-off signals. Which could appear to some like fear or discomfort.”

It made sense you guessed.

“I see. So, relax and it makes everyone feel better.”

He grinned, “So tell me what normally happens when you’re with someone and it leads to something sexual. Set the scene for me.”

You cleared your throat and decided to use your last time with Gunther as the example.

“Well, we were in his dorm room listening to music and laughing about something–“

“Back up a little. Did you invite yourself to his room? Did he invite you? What happened before you got to his room?”

“Oh, uh…” you pursed your lips in thought. “Well, we were out with two mutual friends. At a bar. Gunther, his name is Gunther, he was kind of flirting with me and I liked it. We didn’t really know each other all that well before but I always found him interesting. And so… he was flirting with me. Complimenting me. Things like that. Then he asked me to go back to his room with him. So, I sort of figured something would happen,” you shrugged. You didn’t know why it was so weird telling him all those details but it was.

You recounted how Gunther had made all the moves; kissed you first, groped you and then somehow it ended up with you sucking him off while he laid back on his bed and you were between his legs.

“And… he didn’t return the favor? Like you didn’t get anything?”

You shook your head, “I mean, I didn’t ask. He got off and then that was it really. I left not long after.”

Harry frowned, “Okay. And did you hope he’d do something in return? Like, use his hands or his mouth on you? Did you want more?”

Another shrug of your shoulders, “I mean… I didn’t expect it. Thought maybe next time we could do more? I don’t know.”

“You didn’t expect it. But would you have liked it?”

Nodding your head you looked away from his eyes, “I guess.”

“Did it turn you on?”

Another embarrassing thing to admit to someone you hardly knew. You nodded again, “It just all happened really quickly. I kind of thought things would take longer and we’d chat and maybe he’d have me stay longer and then… well anyway. It was like a total of thirty minutes or something that I was in his room.”

Harry sighed and crossed his leg over his thigh toward you, “And you really want to give Gunther the best head you can? The guy who wasn’t worried about your own needs? Seems very selfless of you, Y/n.”

You let out a breath and laughed, “I know. I just want to be good at it. And that was the first time we did anything so I figured I’d give him a pass.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you. Gunther is lucky you’re still willing to give him another shot.”

“I guess I thought if I was better he’d want to do it more and maybe then we could do other things too.”

“I’m going to be honest, Y/n,” Harry stretched his arm across the back of the couch, “You’re very cute and you probably won’t need to worry much about initiating most of the time. Like, for me, all you have to do is look at me with those pretty eyes and I’m ready to do whatever you want me to.”

It had been a surprise to hear that. You weren’t sure what to do with that information but you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you looked down at your lap.

“But a good start is to keep eye contact. At least enough to indicate interest. Can you look at me?”

Lifting your gaze to his he grinned, “There we go. So pretty.”

You shook your head, “I’m sure you say that to everyone.”

Harry lifted his hand to your cheekbone, “No. I don’t. And I don’t do this with just anyone either. Sometimes I turn down a request. I don’t tell them why but… There’s gotta be attraction on my end as well. And I find you very attractive, Y/n.”

You swallowed down the saliva in your throat and blinked for a break in eye contact before biting your lip.

“Now, even though we’re here for one thing, I do have opinions on matters of the heart and relationships. And frankly, I have to be honest about this Gunther, guy,” he dropped his hand, making his fingers brush down your cheek until he was no longer touching you, “I don’t like that he didn’t offer to get you off too. That’s a big red flag in my book. I feel it’s important to give and to receive unless it’s explicitly stated at the beginning. But you told me you thought you’d get more. And that bothers me.”

“Well, he’s a nice guy. I think he just wasn’t thinking…”

“He wasn’t thinking about your needs. That was selfish of him and something to watch out for. We can give him a pass for the first time, but if you see him again and he still doesn’t think about your needs, I’d hope you’d end that relationship and seek someone who’s willing to be less selfish with you.”

It surprised you that Harry was saying that about Gunther. But perhaps he was right. You did leave his dorm that night quite disappointed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I know you barely know me but that’s just my take. I’d never not offer to return the favor,” he kept his eyes on yours and you swore his lips were suddenly a shade darker. They looked like the perfect lips to kiss.

He grinned when he noted where your eyes were homed in on, “Do you mind coming closer? Feels like you're still too far away.”

You puffed out a nervous laugh as you scooted your bottom in closer toward Harry. His arm was draped over the back of the couch behind you and you felt the warmth of him before you felt his fingers graze the back of your neck.

 “So, I can kiss you? Can we start there?”

You breathed out through your nose and smiled as you nodded and kept your face angled toward his. He watched as you hesitantly put your palm on his knee and he put his hand over yours, “You’re a natural. See?”

Another soft laugh fell from your mouth as Harry’s face drew in closer to yours and your heart stopped as he nudged his nose into yours and you felt his soft lips smush against yours.

It didn’t take long for you to start feeling that familiar heat between your legs as he ran his tongue against yours. It felt so intimate… not like a tutor lesson or anything of the sort. It was you and a handsome man making out on his couch as he pulled you onto his lap. It felt real.

For some reason, you imagined it being a little more dry. Like a real lesson. Like he’d pull his pants down and tell you what to do and show you what he liked and what really made men go wild. You hadn’t imagined kissing being part of the equation for some reason.

“Did he tell you how soft your lips are or how those sweet little noises coming from your mouth drove him crazy?”

He spoke his words between kisses and you were going to pass out. Because no, Gunther gave you no compliments once you got into his dorm room.

You shook your head as you parted from the kiss, your eyes on his.

Harry’s eyes roved your face as he softly dragged his thumb back and forth on your jaw, “I don’t like him one bit. You deserve someone who’s going to tell you how good you are and how good you make them feel.”

He softly pressed his lips against yours again, the kiss heating up into a frenzied pace once again as you stuffed your fingers into his hair and then you felt the bulk of his erection under your thigh when you moved in closer.

Parting from the kiss you looked down and then back up at him and he just smiled. Like it was the most normal and natural thing ever. Which… it kind of was.

“Got me all hard already,” he slid his thumb from the edge of your bottom lip inward and you moaned, “Just like that. You’re already better than you think you are. You’re driving me crazy, Y/n. I want to see what these lips look like wrapped around my cock. Can we do that?”

You nodded and began to move off of him but Harry took your hand in his, making you pause, “I’ll let you get me off if you let me get you off too. Okay?”

Your eyes widened, “Really? I thought this was just for–“

“I have a method and it always includes getting the other person off too. Or at least making them feel good. Unless you don’t want that. That’s okay too, but I would prefer to touch you as well.”

“Okay,” your words were breathy as he helped you off his lap, keeping your hand in his but then he stood up and you watched as he ran his free hand over his crotch, “Is it okay if we do it my bed? A little more space there. Think it’ll feel less rushed.”

Obviously yes. You wouldn’t dream of saying no to this man. Not that you wanted to.

The space behind the partition was just a bed and one side table. His bed was neatly made and there was a plant hanging by the opening of the partition. He gestured for you to follow him onto his mattress and he placed his back at the wall, where he had no headboard.

Kneeing up to him you were feeling shy again and he leaned forward and cupped your face with one hand, “You’re doing so good. If you need to stop at any time just say the word. I’m not here to make you do something you don’t want. Okay?”

You nodded, “Yeah. I know. I trust you.”

“Good. Just wanted to remind you is all. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep going even if I’m enjoying it, which I have a feeling I’m gonna like whatever you do to me.”

You giggled and nodded. He was fluffing up your ego and you hadn’t even really gotten started yet.

Harry started to push his jeans down, lifted his hips to get them off his legs, and then kept his eyes on you as he held his hand out for you to take, “Come here.”

You put your hand in his and let yourself get pulled between his legs as you looked down at the sizable lump under his boxer briefs, “Can we take your jeans off? Kind of want to have you in my lap a little while before we get down to it, yeah?”

You nodded and unhooked your button before pulling your zipper down. Harry’s hands found your hips as you tugged your jeans down and he helped you out of them, leaving you in just your hoodie and panties. Like Harry. He was just in his boxer briefs and his hoodie too.

You crawled into his lap, your thighs straddling his, and sat down as Harry smoothed his hands up and down your thighs, “There we go. This feels nice, having you close like this,” he ran his palms toward your bottom and then back down your thighs to your knees, “How are you feeling?”

You put your palms on his shoulders, “Good. Feel good. And you?”

“I’m feeling great. I’ve got you here in my lap,” he brought a hand up from your thigh to your face, his fingers sliding behind your ear with his thumb at your cheekbone, “And I like you. I think this’ll be fun. Just want you to feel at ease with me.”

You shifted on his lap, getting in closer, “I do feel at ease with you, Harry. You’re really nice.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear,” his voice was soft as he gently pulled you towards him and pressed his mouth against yours again. His kiss was soft and sultry. Harry was far more sensual than you imagined he would be. Lots of soft touches and reassuring words. And his mouth against yours was addictive.

You moaned when his thumb ran along the edge of your panties at your thigh and you rocked your hips down, pressing your panties-covered pussy over his erection.

He inhaled softly through his teeth and lowered his mouth to your neck where you were melted into him. His warm mouth sponged wet kisses down your pulse point as you lowered a hand to the top of his cock.

He sighed when you began to rub your palm over him and you began to move back. You were ready to get him in your mouth.

“You can bring me out if you want. Or I can do it. Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

You bit your lip and continued palming over him as you kept your gaze focused on his, “I’ll do it. Do guys like that more?”

He grinned and the dimples that carved into his cheeks had you swooning, “Yeah. Maybe. Depends on the guy but it can feel like the girl is really excited, like she can’t wait – the enthusiasm is nice. For me? I do like it more. But honestly, I wouldn’t complain if you wanted me to do it myself.”

You nodded in understanding as you focused on the dark green material of his underwear and reached toward the waistband. You looked up at him once more to check in and he just gave you a singular nod to keep going so you did.

The material was warm and stretchy. And you loved the way it felt to run your palm up the length of him, before peeling the fabric away and slowly revealing his cock. His tip was thick and smooth and dark pink. And then his shaft was girthy, quite meaty really, but so stiff. And when you’d pulled his underwear down far enough you took the whole of him in and it was… well it was a bit overwhelming. There was no way on God’s green earth you’d be able to stick that whole thing in your mouth.

“You don’t have to have it all in there. This isn’t a porno. I don’t need you to choke on it or anything like that. Use your hands and your mouth, as long as it’s nice and wet it’s gonna feel really good.”

You nodded. It was a relief that he wasn’t expecting you to deepthroat that thing, “Do you like it when someone can take it all the way?”

Harry breathed a laugh out of his nostrils, “Well… only if the person giving head likes that kind of thing. I would never enjoy it if someone wasn’t into that. But yes. I do rather like it. Not more than any other type of blow job, though.”

You gulped and continued palmed at his length softly. Harry kept his eyes on you to watch how you’d do it. To see what your go-to move was and when you made no move he finally spoke, “Go in however you want. Let’s see how you normally go about giving a blow job.”

“Okay. Yeah…” You took a deep breath and lowered yourself down as he fixed his feet flat on the mattress with knees bent upward, making space for you to fit between his thighs. First, you spat over his tip and used your hand to rub your saliva down his shaft. A quick glance up at him and he looked like he was enjoying it.

After spitting another glob over his slit that clung to your lips a little longer than it did the first time things were feeling much wetter. You stroked along the full length of his cock, from base to tip, tip to base, and back again as you lowered further, getting your lips just over his tip, and looked up at him, swiping your tongue over his crown. Smooth and warm. Adjusting your hips you got into a better position and gripped his base with both hands as you began to take him in your mouth. Your tongue cupped the underside of his cock as you dipped down and pulled up, suckling at his tip before repeating.

Harry’s fingers gently pushed at your chin, “I’d like you to do one thing for me, Y/n…” your eyes shot up to his, “Can you keep your eyes on me, just like you’re doing right now?”

You pulled off and nodded, “Yeah. Sorry.”

Harry tutted at you, “You didn’t do anything wrong. Just really fond of your pretty eyes. Personal preference is all.”

Keeping your gaze on his you kissed his tip softly and slowly before tonguing at his frenulum. It was a good thing you were looking at him in that moment because the expression on his face as you ran your tongue along the underside of his cockhead was lascivious and the sudden heat between you two might not have been noticed if you hadn’t been looking at him.

When you lowered your lips over him again, hollowing your cheeks and cupping the underside of his dick with your tongue, he palmed over your cheek and softly thumbed at your temple, “Y/n… fuck… that’s really good. Keep looking at me like this pretty girl.”

The soft touch from his hand and thumb on your face was full of affection and made your heart thunder in your chest. It made you dizzy the way he was looking at you. It was such a lewd act but somehow filled with tenderness.

The drool that leaked out of your mouth and down his shaft allowed your hands to slip around his base, twisting as you bobbed over the first bit of him with your mouth. It seemed like he was really enjoying what you were doing. Having your eyes on him while you were doing it felt more encouraging than embarrassing.

And Harry was very much enjoying what you were doing. He wasn’t all that picky when it came to getting blow jobs. Why would he be? Some hot girl wanted him to show her how to be better? Well, he rarely did much in the way of making someone any better than they already were.

Harry never intended to be known as a sex tutor or a sex guru. He was just a guy who loved sex. A guy who was patient and who really did care about the person he was with, even if it was just a one-time thing (which most of them were). And his line of studies gave him insight many lacked. The more he slept around (safely) the better he got and the more he understood. He put into practice the things he learned in his classes and when he was a Junior after a string of hookups with a group of very popular seniors he started to get a reputation.

It started with comments and discussions on the size of his cock. Then it eventually escalated to him being very good in bed. And how he could always make a woman come (he didn’t always make them come but he certainly tried and he learned the art of allowing sex to just be something that felt good and intimate and didn’t have to end in that elusive orgasm every time).

The first girl who was bold enough to ask him if he’d help her get to know her body better, had told him how she heard he was the best… and that had caught off guard. But he gave it a go. And he wound up enjoying the whole thing so much that when another girl asked him for help he decided there was no harm in going along with it.

He wasn’t trying to take advantage of anyone, as some jealous of his prowess would make it seem. No, he just really wanted to help, he loved that connection and to have it end with sex (in whatever form) was never a bad thing. Mostly he was just having fun and if he could use some of his knowledge and give someone confidence by the end of a “session” then so be it.

When you sucked around him, slurping noises came from between your lips and the skin on his shaft and he moaned, “Oh that’s good…” He gently placed a hand at the back of your neck and nudged his hips upward the slightest when he felt his cock start to throb and balls tightened.

Harry pulled at you to bring you up so you slid your lips from his tip and looked at him with pretty rounded eyes as you sat on your knees.

“You’re perfect. If I had you sucking me off like this every day I’d have no complaints. That’s the work of someone who’s into it and I can tell you are. Got me so close to coming already,” he took your hand and kissed the tops of your knuckles. Yeah, you were already smitten with him. But maybe that was just because you liked his praise so much.

“Thank you,” you grinned shyly.

Harry took the hand he kissed and brought it down between his legs, sliding your fingers on the underside of his balls, “There’s this spot right here. Kind of smooth. Feel that?”

You nodded.

“It’s called the perineum. This spot,” he pressed the pad of your middle finger over the area of skin, “Feels really good when you rub it gently. Especially while you’re also giving a blow job. Maybe take my balls in your palm a little to massage them and then move to the perineum. Just about any man you suck off is gonna absolutely love it. It’s also a really good trick when you just want the guy to come already, ‘cause maybe he’s taking too long,” he grinned.

He dragged your hand up to cup his scrotum and you kept your eyes on his as you softly squeezed. Harry’s brows narrowed and his lips parted, “Let’s do that yeah? Wanna give it a go?”

Nodding, you lowered yourself again, your lips parting around his crown as you gently massaged his balls and kept your eyes angled up toward his. You kept one hand at the base of his shaft and felt the full, warmth of his sac in your palm before you pulled off of his cock and dropped your lips down to his balls, kissing the skin all around and skimming your tongue through every crevice and wrinkle, wetting him on all sides.

You remembered you were supposed to be looking up at him and when you saw his face it only egged you on. His soft groan and pink puffy lips parted in lust with hooded eyes so you wound your tongue down further and pressed the tip of your wet muscle to the spot he called the perineum.

“Fuck! Yes…”

You liked that reaction. So you did it again and used your hand on his shaft to continue pumping him in long strokes as you pressed over the small strip of skin under his scrotum before you brought your tongue all the way up over his balls and to his base. The pre-come dripping from his tip made things wetter as you slid your palm over him.

You kept one finger on his perineum and then brought your mouth back over his cock and the desperate whimper that fell from his lungs made you feel giddy. You sucked him in and flicked your sight up to him but his eyes were closed. You could feel his legs trembling as your shoulder was pressed into his inner thigh. Gently you brought your hand over his scrotum and massaged as you worked his tip with your lips and tongue.

He placed both of his hands on either side of your head, “Y/n… yes… honey I’m gonna come. That’s so good. You’re so good for me… holy shit… where do you want me to come, huh?”

You were kind of amazed at how he was so melty and whimpery from the blow job you were giving him. You lifted and looked up at him, “Just come in my mouth. Want you to feel good.”

He nodded as he panted and you put your lips back on him, lowering down and sucking as you used your tongue to apply pressure to his crown. Continuing to play with his balls and peek up at him you saw the moment his face scrunched up and his lips dropped open wide. No sound came out at first but you tasted the first pump of his come down your throat and then felt his big cock throbbing against your tongue and it was the hottest blow job you’d ever given. And you weren’t even receiving… the reaction he gave you had you so turned on and so dizzy that you felt the need to take him deeper.

You forced yourself down further, feeling his tip nudging and spurting at the top part of your throat and you swallowed around him before sputtering slightly.

When he finally began to moan it was deep and throaty. His head was tilted back, facing the ceiling as he pumped into your mouth and down your throat. The hands he held at the side of your face were gentle and honestly? You were in heaven. You could do this with him every day if he let you.

And you tried not comparing Gunther to Harry but it was hard. Harry was so masculine and his cock was prettier and much bigger. With Gunther, you could almost take all of him in your mouth without much issue. You didn’t but you probably could have. Harry was a different story. His big cock filled up all the space in your mouth and he smelled so good too. It was a mix of what you assumed was his natural smell with a clean powdery soap.

But it was the moans Harry was making that had you feeling so worked up. He really enjoyed your blow job and that was all you needed to feel good about yourself and your ability.

Harry’s moan quieted into a simper as you continued dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock until he lulled his head forward and looked down at you, “S’good. Fuck that was good.” He prodded at you to bring your mouth off of him and you sat back with a proud smile.

He leaned forward to pull at the back of your neck and smash his lips against yours. You clung onto his shoulders as he positioned you next to him on the bed on your bottom and then he ran his hands down your sides and pulled at your sweater, “Can we get this off?”

You gripped the bottom hem of your hoodie as Harry sat back and peeled his sweater off over his head, making you pause so you could devour his chest and his arms, and his abs with your eyes. The tattoos that were scattered over his body and on his arms were no surprise. You’d heard through the grapevine about his tattoos once your roommate told you about him. And you heard he was fit. But this? He was the perfect amount of muscled and beefy. He was lean but he appeared well-fed. Broad shoulders, pecs you could bite into…

You gulped when you felt Harry’s big hands smoothing up and down your limbs as he absorbed the sight of you before you finally pulled your sweater off and then unhooked your bra, holding the cups up against your breasts for a moment to make sure he was still in it. Because maybe your body would be a complete turn off but his expressive face did all the talking and he moved his hands up your hips as his irises roamed over your skin.

“So pretty, Y/n,” he spoke like he knew you needed the reassurance. Which you did. So you slowly lowered your bra and pulled the straps from your arms and almost immediately Harry ducked down and kissed your right nipple while his hand palmed at your left tit. He moaned against your soft flesh and you felt cool air hit your skin in the path where his tongue laved against you.

A soft gasp fell from your lips when he wrapped his mouth over your nipple and looked up at you from his spot, pink lips suckling at your breast. It was almost as if he needed to make sure he was doing what you liked. As if the man wasn’t some kind of expert.

Harry’s bulky body moved over you and his hands brushed over the skin at your sides and down to your hips where your panties clung tight. You lifted your hips, ready for him to take care of you, ready to have him pull the last bit of fabric from your body and Harry grinned at you.

“I’m gonna pull these down, okay?”

Nodding you laughed in slight nervousness. You weren’t sure when you’d gotten so eager but giving Harry a blow job had made you a bit insatiable and all of the nice things he said about you, how good you were... Your insides were aching and you knew you were probably already wet, the crotch of your panties was warm against your skin.

And as he slowly dragged the material down your legs he kept looking up at you. A little bit of reassurance that he was only going to go as far as you wanted.

Paying close attention to his eyes you watched him drag his gaze over all your crevices and then up to your tits and then your eyes as he licked his lips. He wrapped a hand on the underside of your calf, lifting your leg the smallest bit as he tucked himself in closer, his shoulders pressing into your thighs.

The warm, soft kisses he dotted on your inner thigh as he looked up at you made you feel worshiped. Like he was savoring the moment and was going to take his time with you.

“Y/n, I just want to make you feel good. Tell me if you don’t like something or if you need something more okay? Because you did so good for me and I’m gonna be dreaming about those lips on me. Just want to make you feel as good as good as you made me feel.”

Harry could tell you liked a bit of praise. A compliment here and there was easy enough to throw in because it was all true. You were very good and you were so pretty and now he was going to return the favor as best he could.

When you felt his tongue swipe up through your crease you moaned faintly as you kept your eyes on him. And when he dug in more, attached his lips to your pussy, and began sucking at you the groan that fell from his chest rumbled through your core and you held on to the back of his head as you arched your back off of the pillow under yourself. His lips slicked up and down, tongue pressing at your clit and then he moved, bringing his arm in and you felt his fingers prodding at your entrance as he looked up at you, pulling his mouth away from your pussy, “Tastes so good, Y/n. Could bury my face here all day long. You mind if I finger you a little? Would that feel good?”

He ran his digits through your folds like he already knew your answer and you nodded quickly, “Yeah. Okay. If you want.”

He grinned before you felt him push his middle finger past your opening and then he watched the face you made as he curled his finger up in your magic little spot. The one only your rabbit vibrator seemed to be able to hit.

You gasped and with that, he brought his lips back over your clit and got to work. His dark curls were smooth and thick between your fingers and the way he kept pulling his gaze up to yours as he licked into you was naughty. The whole scene was something from a dream. There was something so soft about how he kept his eyes on you to check-in.

You’d had a couple of guys go down on you before but they had no idea what they were doing and you weren’t sure if it was just supposed to feel like slippery nothing gliding over your labia or not. But now, with Harry doing the work… well you realized what it was actually meant to feel like. And Harry was not giving you slippery nothing.

He seemed to enjoy it as well which made your heart lurch in your chest. Especially with how he was moaning into you like you tasted good. And he had told you as much, which… that had you on edge already.

When Harry slid in a second finger he opened his mouth wide and tongued up from where his fingers were pumping into you to your clit.

You couldn’t help the pathetic moans that were loudly bouncing off the walls of his studio, “Oh god, Harry…”

But the thing that was really seeping into your skin and your veins and making your heart pound was his eyes on yours. You couldn’t get over it. It was so intimate and sexy and the gushy noises coming from your slippery pussy were lewd and dirty. It was the perfect juxtaposition of just nasty enough but also sweet and soft that had you spiraling.

When they tell you that the biggest part of getting turned on is all in the mind, that’s absolutely true. Harry was a master at it. You weren’t sure you’d ever been so turned on with any man before. He really knew which buttons to push and all the right things to say.

“Fuck, that’s good… holy shit, Harry…”

He loved hearing you whine his name and the feel of your hips bucking upward in tiny bursts. You were one of those girls that was going to have an orgasm, he just knew it. The way you kept getting wetter every time you shot your eyes down to his was a big telltale sign. Some didn’t like the eye contact but he loved it and so did you, clearly.

He moaned into your pussy and swallowed you down as he worked his tongue in teasing circles around your clit before wrapping his lips around you again and smushing down over you with just the right amount of pressure.

The arm he had under your thigh he wrapped under your lower back, pulling you in closer if that was possible, as he continued fingering you with his other hand. The man was unquenchable. Like he needed to stuff his face in as close as humanly possible. Like he needed to suck you dry and make it so that you never forgot his name.

Your insides were melting for him. His fingers were magic inside of you and it had your brain all fuzzed out and blurry. But the way he rolled your clit under his tongue was divine, otherworldly… he knew what he was doing with that big mouth of his.

You gasped and looked back down at him again and his eyes were already pinned to yours.

“Oh… gonna co… oh fuck, gonna come…” you felt like you were being lifted into the air, levitating and vibrating off the bed and out of the atmosphere as he kept his fingers and his tongue steady. But when he moaned deeply into your cunt, that low resonate sensation traveling from your clit to your core and through your tummy made you lose control.

You didn’t realize you were yanking his hair as your legs quaked and your body liquified under him. But it didn’t deter him. He watched you unravel, tits bouncing and back arching as you orgasmed into his mouth and he curled his fingers up against your g-spot as you clamped over his digits.

If he didn’t have his mouth occupied he would have praised you more in that moment. Told you how pretty you were and how good you did for him. But he waited until you began to slowly come back to earth before whispering into your ear the sweet things he knew you’d like to hear.

He laid next to you and grasped your face, kissing your lips softly as you sighed, “So fucking good. What a pretty orgasm that was, Y/n…” He spoke between kisses.

“Did that all for me? Yeah?”

You couldn’t answer him. Not in that moment. You’d just melted and dissolved and had only begun to re-solidify and become a real human with lungs and limbs and skin and pores again.

“You are really fun to eat out, Y/n. Tasted so nice and you sound so sexy when you come. You can call me anytime you need a release okay?” He continued kissing your cheek and your lips as he spoke softly.

Harry didn’t rush you out like you thought he might. He rubbed over your tummy and kissed your breasts softly and ran his lips up the side of your neck as you slowly opened your eyes and sighed.

“Feel okay?”

You nodded and smiled, “Really good.”

“Stay as long as you want. Okay? No rush. We can even grab dinner together if you want or I can make you something.” Harry wasn’t sure why he asked you that. While he didn’t usually rush anyone out, he didn’t typically offer food or dinner either. There was just something about you that compelled him to ask. Perhaps he hoped you’d stick around a bit longer.

You sat up, “Oh. That’s really nice of you. But… maybe I should probably head back. Get some schoolwork done.”

You’d have loved to stay for dinner but you also didn’t want to get your feelings mixed up for a guy like Harry. Not that there was anything wrong with him, but you understood what this was. A one-time thing. Something fun where you got to learn a thing or two. If you stuck around too long you’d probably just want more. And that would only end in heartbreak for you. Because Harry was kind of the ideal guy in a lot of ways.

“Of course. Just thought I’d ask.”

There were no hard feelings for this kind of thing. Harry wasn’t offended that you didn’t want to stay. He’d had a good time with you and he was almost certain you had a good time as well. And that was just about all one could ask for.

Harry let you use his bathroom to clean up and get dressed. And as you did so you thought about how Gunther didn’t even offer you anything to eat or to stay after. In fact he didn’t even ask if you wanted to use his bathroom, when that would have been nice after giving him head. Because even though Gunther didn’t really touch you, you were still wet, and walking back to your dorm with wet panties was not a nice feeling. Especially when you didn’t even get anything out of it.

You’d be wary of Gunther. You’d give him another shot because you were a nice girl but you weren’t going to ignore the concerns Harry had. Perhaps Harry was right.

When you stepped out of the bathroom Harry handed you a glass of water, “Drink a little before you head out, and what dorm do you live in?” He looked down at his phone as he asked.

“Oh… uh the Millennium dorms near the arts building.”

He nodded as you took a gulp of the water and he showed you his phone, “Uber will be here for you in three minutes. I’ll walk you down, okay?”

“Wait. You didn’t have to do that! Um… I can walk or get an Uber myself it’s–“

He shook his head and grinned, “I know I didn’t have to but it’s getting late. Don’t want you walking twenty minutes by yourself. Who knows what could be lurking out there,” he laughed.

You pointed at him, “Fine. But I’m gonna pay you back. Next time I see you okay?”

“Not necessary. Now come on,” he playfully swatted at your bottom and directed you toward his door, “Let’s go downstairs and wait for…” he looked at his phone, “Rebecca in a white Trail Blazer.”

PART 2

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