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beardedjoel · 2 days ago

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honey, honey | one: for the low, low price of!

sugar daddy! joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist

summary: you find yourself in a precarious situation financially, one that requires lying and risking the silver spoon you've grown up on. your father's oldest friend, joel, finds you in a compromising position but quickly becomes an unexpected solution to all your problems. 9.8k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, sugar daddy worthy age gap (reader is 21, joel is 54), inherent power dynamic imbalance from a sugar daddy arrangement, reader has shit parents and comes from money, one (1) jerk off session, playing it a little fast and loose with pov, slow burn!

a/n: well, here she is. i actually started this over a year ago but sent it to the back burner for ages, so it feels like such a long time coming! i hope you enjoy, these two are going on a journey together and i really hope you stick along for the ride. so, so excited for it! i'm attempting a slower burn with eventual smut this time around. it’s not the focus from the get go but instead some chemistry, banter, and confusing pining are taking center stage for a bit before they get freak nasty.

You stare down at your phone, scowling at the message on screen as the van jostles you on a turn, pulling into a new neighborhood. Your coworkers, Alicia and Gladys chat in the front seats while you sulk in the back. You don’t mean to be so off putting, but you’re reflecting on how you ended up here, staring at a text from your father inquiring about your day at the firm. Guilt squeezes your insides at the fabrication you’ve concocted, the way you couldn’t be further from the false narrative you’ve given to your parents, and with hardly anything to show for it yet.

“Wait…” you mutter, your eyes focusing and scanning along the perfectly manicured street of gorgeous brownstones rising up, all crammed together. You know that despite the small, more humble outsides of these homes, the insides are immaculate, thousands of square feet renovated to perfection. “I know this street.”

Alicia turns from the passenger seat, raising her eyebrows at you. “This richie rich neighborhood? Who do you know here?”

You feel your cheeks warm up, too embarrassed to admit to them that your own parents’ luxury apartment is on a street not too dissimilar to this. In fact, you don’t even need this job in the slightest, but have been desperate to make your own money under the radar, away from your parents’ obsessive peering into every aspect of your life. Every day that has passed since you hatched your little plan that had felt like some kind of genius at the beginning has only proven how futile it was to jump into it so hastily.

“I… swear I’ve been here before…” you mutter, mostly thinking out loud to yourself, eyes staring out the window as you wrack your brain.

When Gladys pulls into a drive, dipping below the house into a garage that opens for the van, your stomach tightens. It’s all too familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on it. You haven’t been here for a few years, at the least.

“W-who’s our client today?” you ask urgently, tightening your hands into fists.

Gladys glances at her work tablet, filled with the itinerary for the entire week. “Mr. Miller, hon,” she replies before peering back down at the screen, confirming it. “Joel.”

You can tell you must look as shocked as you feel, eyes flashing with fear and going a little wider and your face dropping instantly.

“I-I know him,” you manage to stutter out. “Well, he knows my parents. Like, really well.”

Joel could not, under any circumstances, see you like this. What a disaster that would be - your rich daddy’s rich friend getting a house cleaning from said friend’s daughter. One who is supposed to be off interning somewhere. Instead, you’re plotting to live by scraping by, collecting money for what you hope could be an escape from this life, their life.

Your parents are both insistent on you taking over the family business - some corporate bullshit you have no interest in - so you’d sated them by claiming you were off gaining experience in between classes with some interning hours at a firm. You’re lucky that a friend of yours from college actually does work there, hoping if it came down to it, they could vouch for you. If the truth got out, you know the possibility that you would be cut off is high. It’s the kind of massive fallout you’re not sure you’re prepared to deal with yet.

The lies you’ve had to concoct and the harsh reality of cramming your schedule full between class and this job - scrubbing floors, endless vacuuming and wiping surfaces, your body aching after each and every day of work - was starting to get to you, but you had to persevere.

“They’re hardly ever even home when we come anyways, especially this Mr. Miller,” Alicia suggests at your panic, and you swallow and nod. Gladys agrees with her, then they shoot each other a concerned, confused look. They’ve been a team for a while, but you’ve only just met them a few weeks ago, assigned to train with them. Both of them are older momma bear types, having clung to your young ass like glue, vowing to teach you all the ropes and take good care of you, which you’d appreciated. You’d been lucky enough to have gotten a job with this particular company, having no experience in the field, or nay field for that matter. The client base they worked with was high end, their homes millions of dollars, the service only known to the more wealthy side of Manhattan.

“Y-yeah, you’re right. It’s totally fine.” You’re not sure if you’re trying harder to convince yourself or Gladys and Alicia, the two women staring you down with their brows wrinkled in worry.

It’s the last cleaning of the day, and all you need to do is get through it. It has to be fine, it just has to - you need the money. Desperately. You push out a small smile, moving to exit the van. “Let’s do this,” you add on a little more encouragingly after the two of them look less than convinced.

“There she is,” Gladys teases, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze as you all start to unload all your supplies. You’re let in by a middle aged woman with dark hair in a sleek bob answering the garage door with a polite smile. His house manager or assistant, you realize. Men like Joel Miller had assistants, you remind yourself, to help take care of everything - the house, grocery lists for the week, light cooking, or even his schedule. She likely did it all.

You take in Joel’s home with wandering eyes, recalling now that you’d come here for dinner before - a family outing that your parents had dragged you to, the details of the place coming back to you as you all move further inside. It feels strange to be here without his permission, without your parents knowing where you are right now. Your chest is tight at the thought, but once you three get to work, you feel your anxiety dissipate as you get lost in the monotony of it - the drone of the vacuum, the mindless scrubbing of sparkling surfaces, the fresh lemon scent as you clean the bathrooms. Joel’s house isn’t all that dirty to begin with, an easy job compared to some of them you’d seen since you started.

You’re feeling downright pleasant by the time you’re finishing up, a job well done filling you with satisfaction as you wipe a thin layer of sweat off your forehead. You’re heading back to the main living room, hoping to link back up with Gladys and Alicia when you spot him.

He’s walking down the hallway with purpose, eyes glued down on his phone, dark framed reading glasses shielding his eyes from you further. His black suit hugs his body like it was meant for him, and you suppose it likely was tailored to his exact measurements, right to the very centimeter. You stop dead in your tracks, head whipping from side to side, looking for an out, a door you can rush into, but you’re trapped, the nearest one at least several paces behind you. When Joel glances up, he’s silent, stopping as he’s close to crashing into you and giving you a range of emotions rushing across his features - quizzical brows turning into full on confusion as he just stares.

Your name finally leaves his lips, almost incredulously. “Now what’re you doin’ here?” He takes in your outfit with his dark eyes - the branded tee shirt, your working slacks, and plain black work shoes - possibly one of the least flattering ensembles you could be wearing. “What is all this?”

“Not sure what you mean, Mr. Miller,” you spit out in a panic, keeping your voice professional, a high, sweet lilt as you hold your smile.

“C’mon now,” Joel urges, his brows coming together further in concern. He steps towards you with his voice lowered, but you step back a little almost instinctively, keeping your distance. Like you can run from this, from this mess you’ve suddenly made of your life. You break a little, lips faltering as your smile starts to fall. Tears prick behind your eyes, embarrassment from being caught creeping its way up from your chest.

“Please don’t tell my parents…” you mumble, darting your gaze away from his intense stare.

Joel pauses for a moment, adjusting the glasses up on his nose before deciding to take them off completely, tucking them into his jacket pocket.

“I don’t even know what I’d be tellin’ them, if I’m honest here,” he admits, rubbing a hand along his lips and chin, studying you. It’s starting to practically burn your skin, the way he stares, a man of confidence and command looking at you this way. Not something you were completely unaccustomed to, your father having plenty of business partners and associates with the same demeanor. But Joel felt different, like he was genuinely concerned for you.

“There you are,” Gladys huffs out, turning the corner behind Joel, her mouth forming a small "oh” when she sees who you’ve run into.

“Mr. Miller, great to see you, sir,” she chirps immediately, giving him her professional grin, one you’ve seen plenty of times already in the few weeks you’ve worked with her.

Joel, not forgetting his manners, smiles back at her and greets her, turning his body to let Gladys into the conversation. Alicia follows close behind, and you’re starting to burn up with embarrassment at this clusterfuck of a gathering you’ve found yourself in now.

“Everythin’ looks great, ladies. Why don’t you two head on out and I’ll steal her for just a bit,” Joel says, charming and smooth, his accent thick. “Think my office needs some special attention.”

Alicia and Gladys shoot each other a glance, then you, then Joel, seeming to try to piece everything together. Your cheeks couldn't possibly be any hotter, white hot and spreading up to your ears, knowing that this looks bad. Like Joel is about to take you into his office and do unspeakable things to you. The classic maid trope, or whatever.

“It’s okay,” you mouth quietly to the both of them, giving them an encouraging smile even though you feel shaky, like your stomach is bottoming out.

“She’s an old family friend in need of some catching up. In fact, I’ll drive her home after. Don’t y’all worry about it, I know you’ve got places to be,” Joel adds to sweeten the deal. The two ladies exchange another look, but then turn back to Joel, their faces slightly strained but professional.

“Of course, Mr. Miller. We’ll see you for the next service, then,” Alicia says a bit robotically. They both nod curtly and then bow out, not before peeking one last look at where you stand like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar.

“This way,” Joel says, turning back to face you with a steely expression, brushing past you to lead you towards where you already know he’s going - his office. You hadn’t been in there today - Gladys had tackled the office, so it’s all new territory to you as you pass the threshold, taking in the modern but cozy decor. It’s mostly black and dark wood furniture, dark gray chairs but contrasted with airy white walls, a high ceiling, and colorful art, making the room feel spacious despite the dark features.

Joel sighs softly, shutting the door behind him, even though nobody else is here, no reason to need the privacy. It serves to make you even more nervous, and you lick your quickly drying lips, standing near the doorway with your hands folded in front of you.

“Look, Mr. Miller -” you start, wanting to explain yourself. Joel moves closer, sending you backing up into the room, cutting off your train of thought as his large, imposing form closes in on you.

“You gonna tell me what’s really goin’ on here?”

“W-what do you mean?” you ask innocently, knowing there are a myriad of very reasonable reasons for Joel to be questioning you right now. You’re not sure what charade you’re even trying to hold up at this point, it’s only pure panic. Another step closer, and another step backwards for you, he continues until the backs of your thighs hit the desk and you stop, surprised as you glance back at it behind you.

“Don’t play coy. Imagine my surprise when I see my one of my oldest buddies' daughters, knowing he takes care of his family, here cleanin’ my floors and toilets. Now don’t you think that’d strike me as odd?” His head cocks, and he looks at you seriously, brows raised. You can’t quite tell if he’s getting any satisfaction out of this, or if he actually seems angry.

“Mr. Miller, I - I can explain, okay?” you start nervously, and Joel waves a hand impatiently, as if to say go on then. “They, my parents, I mean, they want me to be in the family business, and I…” You sigh. “Don’t know what I want, but it’s not that.”

Joel stares at you for a long, quiet moment, flashing eyes studying your face, trying to read if you’re being truthful.

“And what’s this have to do with cleanin’ my house?” he asks curtly.

“I… well, it doesn’t. I mean, it does. I just need to make my own money. If I don’t follow in his footsteps, I think they’ll… cut me off,” you reply, deciding to try to be as blunt as he is. Your voice falters on those last words, the reality of it painful, twisting in your gut. What kind of parent cuts their child off for something so frivolous, so selfish?

Joel looks amused suddenly, cocking his head a little further, and you can tell he definitely doesn’t believe you. He’s so close, so in your personal space, you’re finding it hard to breathe. “So you’re sayin’ your daddy ain’t takin’ care of you?”

You bite the inside of your lip and give him a small nod. The thing about your dad was if you acquiesced, if you followed exactly the plan he’d laid out for you, you’d have been riding high, walking on easy street for the rest of your life. And if not, well, he’d always made it perfectly clear he didn’t deal with traitors, because what was the point of having children if they couldn’t take over your business for you? Sure, it was tempting to take the easy route, but maybe you’d gotten tired of it all, found your rebellious streak a little later in life than most people.

“Yes…” you say out loud, unable to believe you were sharing this with Joel of all people - someone more likely than anyone to feed this information straight back to your father. It’s not like you knew him well, despite him being one of your dad’s closest and oldest friends, one of his closest business partners and confidants. You’d spent a decent amount of time in the same room as Joel, but you only knew the surface level, just the polite, agreeable conversations you were expected to have. It typically was some kind of public function, or the holiday party at your parents’ place every year, maybe a dinner party sprinkled in here and there, but you’d certainly never been quite this close to Joel Miller. Or alone.

His face falls at the sincerity in your voice, seeming to feel the gravity of it weighing down on him. “Now what d’you mean, cut you off? Like, full on, ‘n everything?” He steps back a little, giving you some space, his brows scrunched together in concern and arms crossing over his chest.

“Er, with all due respect, Mr. Miller, I don’t think I should be talking to you about it all.” You slump back a little, pushing yourself off of where you lean back on his desk, glancing past him to look around his office. It’s tidy, bookshelves lining the far wall full of perfectly placed, perfectly organized books on all kinds of things - some practical and business related, some seeming more like guilty pleasures of fiction and nonfiction of various genres, but mostly mystery, it seems.

“Y’made it my business when you stepped into my house today though, didn’t you?” he quips back, but you detect a hint of teasing there, feeling it start to disarm you.

“C’mon, sit,” Joel says, seeming to soften when he notices you stuttering to reply, gesturing to one of the chairs that sits near the large bay window in the room, a matching one set up across from it. “This’ll be… confidential.” He smiles, trying to convince you, and you don’t know if you believe him, but the twinkle in his eye almost makes you want to. You decide to sit, smoothing your scratchy work slacks, crossing one leg over the other, feeling like you look as stiff as you feel.

Joel, on the other hand, looks relaxed as he sits back, legs spread wide, his large palms settling onto his thick thighs, fingers spread over them.

“I… don’t believe you,” you finally tell him. “What’s to stop you from telling my dad everything I say right now, or even that I was here in the first place?” you ask before feeling your heart sink a little at the likely prospect of it. Your life as you know it could be over, starting from scratch with one phone call from Joel.

Joel chuckles, the corner of one side of his mouth twitching upwards as he eyes you. “Look, I get it, I wouldn’t trust me either,” he replies, his hands lifting off of his legs to be thrown in the air before he fists his upturned palms and settles them on the arms of the chair. “I wanna hear you out, though. Your dad, he ain’t uh, without his faults, I know that.”

You try to hide your surprise, keeping your brows from twitching inward, your face showing the intrigue you feel. You breathe out, slow and steady. “My dad isn’t interested in anything but me being the next, well, him. And if I’m not interested in that, then I don’t think he’s interested in having me as his kid.”

Joel goes stone-like at your bare confession - so honest - and he seems to soak in the words quietly with serious consideration. “An’ where do they think you are right now, hm?” he finally questions, steady eyes on your anxious ones.

“An internship.” Your cheeks heat a little as you face your lie and how stupid it sounds when you say it out loud.

Joel chuckles again, this time looking a bit impressed by you. He shoots a handsome, devilish smirk your way and you avert his gaze. “Yeah? And they’re buyin’ it?”

You let out a small laugh of your own, releasing some tension, and shrug. “Seems like it.”

“Why… this? Why the, uh, cleaning?”

“Turns out the job market is pretty shit when you have no skills, no experience, and are trying to do things under the radar - y’know, name recognition around all the big places, and all of that.” Being spoiled for your entire life, never worrying about wanting anything, needing anything, had predictably led to you never having needed a job, even now into your early twenties. The only things you’d learned were with your dad, the days he’d dragged you up in his high rise to shadow him and start preparing you for the future. Your future, as directed by good ol’ dad.

Joel nods softly a few times, running a hand across his face. “Got it. An’ what exactly do you want to be doin’ if it ain’t workin’ for your daddy, fast trackin’ to CEO?”

“I…” you stutter, your eyes falling. That was the problem, wasn’t it? You hadn’t had the mindset, the freedom to wonder for so long, not realizing that you did have a choice in what you did with your life, that you could try to find a path you at least tolerated more than what your dad was going to have you do. You’d seen too much - the pressure, the stress, the kind of person it had made him into, and you wanted no part of that lifestyle.

“I don’t know yet, honestly,” you admit, embarrassed that you’d started this whole plan without an end goal, all built on a frustrated whim you had one day. “Maybe something in education? Maybe fashion, interior design? Something more creative, I think. Or I could even be a lawyer, help people out, or something.”

“Thas’ quite a laundry list, sweetheart,” Joel says, and your heart thuds at the pet name. You hate it, hate how it makes him sound condescending even if he isn’t meaning to, like you aren’t smart enough to figure this out for yourself.

“I know, I know,” you acquiesce. It was all a pipe dream, you knew that deep down. “I just needed to get away from it. I hate business school - it just feels like a load of shit, honestly, Mr. Miller. I don’t want to become like my dad.”

“An’ what’s that, hm? What’s becomin’ like your dad?”

You shake your head. “I-I’m not answering that. It’s your friend, and clearly you see some merit in him to stay close all these years. I… don’t want to ruin that for him, too.” The thought makes you sad. Your dad is already about to lose his only child if he finds you out, and you don’t want to bring losing Mr. Miller into it, too. While it was by your dad’s own choices and shortcomings that he’d lose you, you still find your heart squeezing a little for him at the thought.

“Fair enough,” he says with a small smile, rubbing his hands together before putting them back on the armrests, gripping it. He pushes himself up, standing and walking over to his desk, opening one of the top drawers and pulling something out. You can’t see from this angle, and fight the urge to get up and go see what has so suddenly grabbed his attention.

“How much?” he asks, grabbing a pen from a tiny box on the desk - a pen that likely costs more than what you’re making from this one job today.

Your lips part, mouth hanging open slightly. “What?” you ask, shaking your head.

“How much do you make in a week? Here at this job? I’ll pay you five times just f’you to quit it.”

“Mr. Miller… n-no,” you spit out, hopping up from the chair in a hurry. You rush towards the desk, your non-slip work shoes clunking along the hardwood until you reach the plush rug that surrounds his desk. “No,” you say a little more firmly, planting your hands on the desk, standing opposite of him.

“And why not?” He smirks now, like he’s somehow having fun here, and it irritates you. That would only make one of you having a nice time, because you are certainly fully out of your depth here.

“B-because! It’s ridiculous, that’s why. I don’t need handouts,” you say indignantly, now moving both of your hands to your hips, standing taller.

“Sounds like you might,” he half-teases, looking down at where he’s pulled out his checkbook onto the desk. His face falls suddenly and he rubs the back of his neck. “Jus’… I don’t like hearin’ what I’m hearin’. Could never imagine cuttin’ off Sarah, and if that’s true what you say about your dad, well, I…” he glances up to you with a more serious look in his eyes - pity.

Like your father, Mr. Miller also only has one daughter, Sarah, who as far as you’ve heard is well and thriving. Doing some kind of work in animal rescue, you think. You two had never been close given the over ten year age gap between you two - Joel had Sarah relatively young, and as long as you’ve known them, her mother hasn’t been fully in the picture. You’d always noticed how much Joel cared about her, how good of a father he was, remembering the pangs of jealousy you’d get as a kid when you saw how engaged he was with Sarah.

“You’re a good dad, that’s why,” you murmur in reply, eyes casting downwards.

“I try t’be, I suppose,” he says, sounding more bashful. “C’mon, jus’ name it, sweetheart. No harm done, it’ll be our secret.”

“Wh- what am I even supposed to do? If you give me the money? What do I…” You swallow hard. “Owe? What do you get out of this?”

Joel’s energy turns a little lighter, his smirk returning. “Let’s just say I enjoy helping you. I want to. Nothin’ owed, except coming by same time next week for your next check. We can talk more then, give y’some time to think.”

Think? About what? You almost scoff, but reign it in at the last second, fighting your eyes from rolling on top of it. “Mr. Miller, this is…”

“Ridiculous? Is it, really?”

Oh, he’s good, so convincing when he wants to be. Suave and calculated yet warm at the same time. You understand how he got to be so successful, how so many people likely fall at their feet to just be a part of the air he breathes, the aura he fills a space with. He’s a giant, knowing how to command a room, take up just enough space, yet feel so relatable at the same time.

“I’d feel too guilty…” you say quietly, your shoulders sagging in defeat.

“More guilty than doing this job, droppin’ out of school behind your parents back?”

Your skin is burning up, your brain at war with itself. He’s too insistent, there has to be some angle here that you’re missing, some reason he’d be so kind to you. Leverage - blackmail, maybe - to your father, to be able to hold it over your head to get what he wants at some point.

“Hey, c’mon. I’m serious, sweetheart. Just the check, nothin’ more,” Joel says more urgently, seeing the way you’re starting to waver.

“How can I trust you?” you finally spit out, and Joel leans back in his office chair, just watching where you stand. “I’m sorry, it’s all very nice and everything, but no. I c-can’t. I shouldn’t. I need to do this for myself.”

You turn to leave, and you hear the creak of Joel’s chair as he sits forward, watching you throw the office door open and move with purpose, rushing to get yourself out of this situation as fast as possible. You feel the spell lift immediately now that you’re out of reach, whipping past his fine furnishings and art as you move through the hallway back to the foyer. You hear Joel, hot on your tail, his energy a little more frantic than he’s been as he follows you.

“At least let me drive you home,” he finally offers as he rushes to catch up. You keep moving, shaking your head.

“N-no, I’ll just get a ride or something. Call my driver,” you throw at him over your shoulder, and his hand on your wrist stops you in your path just as the front door is in sight. You fully turn your head to face him now, and his eyes look soft, like he does care.

“Offer’ll stay on the table, okay?” Joel says and you just let your lips part, meeting his gaze for a moment. It’s intense, the standoff between the two of you, his eyes searching for weakness, for any crack that indicates you’ll give in. You offer him a succinct nod, slipping out of his grip and not looking back as you step out into the bright sunlight of the evening, shielding your eyes before pulling out your phone to call Karl, the man who has been your personal driver for years. Your father hired him, but he’s been nothing but loyal to you - you know Karl has kept every secret of where you’ve been, overheard phone calls, arguments with your father. He never says a word, never spreads the information - he’s paid well, and that extra cash pays for his silence.

In the back of the car, your phone buzzes in your lap while you stare contemplatively out the window. You ignore it, letting your eyes glaze over as you watch the houses pass you by on the way out of Joel’s neighborhood and back towards downtown.

What if this was your chance? Your only option to really get out from underneath your parents? It could be a huge cushion, much more than you’d make doing what you’re doing now. At this rate, it would take ages to get enough to push you through school, where you’d already have to start from scratch, leave Columbia and start an entirely new curriculum, most likely. Find a much cheaper school, then take care of housing, bills, everything on top of it that you’d never been prepared to have to worry about in your life, always promised the comforts of your parents money. You knew you were lucky, going around with your life spoon fed to you, but you wanted to feel something, the part of you that was excited about anything having died off completely when you realized the spoon had been fed to you through a cage. Live this way or we starve you, cut you off.

You sigh, dropping your head into your hand where it rests along the window of the car. The noise of Manhattan traffic goes in one ear and out the other, fading into oblivion as you realize you may have made a mistake by leaving so soon, not hearing Joel out.

Did you have a choice?

Your phone buzzes again, a reminder of the message from your father you’d ignored and you tear your eyes off the passing landscape to peer down at your lap. Your face falls, brows pushing together when you see it’s an unknown number texting you.

Unknown: If you change your mind, let me know. - JM

How the hell? You stare down at the message, eyes scanning rapidly over the screen in disbelief. You scoff quietly, but find your lips turning into a smile before you can stop it, unconsciously putting your fingers over your them as if Karl seeing you grin like this could give it all away.

You: How did you get this number?

Joel: I think you underestimate how persistent I can be.

You: Does it hurt your ego to take no for an answer? Is that what this is?

You eagerly lick your lips, smile growing as you find yourself so quick to banter with him. It’s always so much easier over text, you think to yourself, to be a little more bold, a little more careless. Joel had a warm, welcoming energy, but it doesn’t mean you’re immune to the way he charms, the way he seems to be a man who gets what he wants more often than not.

Joel: I think it’ll hurt you more than it does me sweetheart.

You: I’m thinking about it, okay?

Joel: Think away.

You tuck your phone away, flipping it over on your lap so you can’t see the screen anymore, drumming your fingers along the back of the case as you feel a surge of frustration wash over you. If Joel’s offer is genuine, if he really expects nothing in return, you’d be a complete fool to pass it up, right? Who passes up free money? You knew you were screwed either way, really - the job you had right now wasn’t getting you anywhere near achieving your dreams. You needed more, you needed support. Financially first of all, but if you were honest, someone like Joel with some life experience to help you figure out your next steps couldn’t hurt.

Fuck.

You wince and flip your phone back over, unlocking it to where the messages still sit on your screen, taunting you. Your fingers go flying before you can stop yourself, your heart starting to pick up in pace.

You: You’re serious? I wouldn’t owe you anything? Have to pay you back someday?

Joel: Serious as can be.

You: $800 a week. Without tips from lovely clients like you.

Joel is quiet on the other end for a while, slower than his usual response thus far, and your throat gets a little tight. You swear, if he was backing out now, or worse, sending screenshots of your conversation to your father, you were going to have it out with Joel Miller. And it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Instead, a few moments later, a text comes through, a photo. That same checkbook, the background the sleek black surface of his desk, with the top check filled out for four thousand dollars. Signed and everything, with the memo line reading ‘knew you’d make the right choice’. Your hand shakes a little, all of this feeling wrong suddenly now that it's gone this far.

Joel: 9am tomorrow.

Joel sits back, satisfied as he smirks at his phone. The check lays in front of him, taunting him, his energy buzzing and satisfied picturing your pretty hands taking it from him tomorrow. He sighs heavily, a hand creeping up his thigh to where he’s started to bulge through his black dress slacks.

“Fuck…” he murmurs quietly to himself as he palms it, his hard and wanting cock desperate for any relief. It would be wrong, should be wrong, if you’re the one involved in all of this. But he can’t care when he pictures your lips smiling with the check in hand, you depositing the money and buying yourself something pretty with it, taking care of bills, getting a nice meal. You spin in a new dress or top, showing it off to him, bought with that chunk of change he’d so willingly given to you. Just the tiniest of dents in his finances, so much more where that came from if you’d let him. He’s hardly realized it, the way his hand had undone his belt and zipper while he got lost in the fantasy, hard cock in his fist as he pictures it over and over. He tries to make it not you, not his friend's daughter as he immerses himself in the scenes, but he’d be remiss if he tried to deny that you’re a gorgeous young woman, that you’d look so good doing everything he’s picturing.

“Fuck, oh god…” Joel whimpers while his hand moves along his cock, slickened from the bit of precum leaking out the tip and the saliva he’d haphazardly spit down there when he started. He stares at the check, your hands on it over and over, your pretty lips and smile and the way he could give you more and more and more until you wanted for nothing. He grunts, hips stuttering forward as he fucks his fist quickly and finds himself coming faster than usual, his release taking him by surprise with a loud moan.

“Christ,” Joel murmurs as he breathes heavily, quickly cleaning himself up with a tissue before rushing to the powder room connected to his office, washing his hands of it all. He stares at himself in the mirror, such a bastard for what he’s doing, all the secrecy inlaid in his plan.

Your father… one of his oldest friends, and this is what he’s doing with that friendship? That empire of business savvy they built together? Years of trust, of advising one another, throwing it all away for a little gratification on his end? No, he knows this is about more than just him, this could really help you if what you said about your father was true. He knows your dad isn’t an easy man to live with - he’s got a short temper and is stubborn as hell, a black and white thinker if there ever was one. If he truly was saying he’d cut you off, then well, Joel was starting to think he’d believe that.

And he wants to be the one to ease that burden for you.

You fuss with your appearance yet another time, anxiety pooling in your gut as you inspect your hair and complexion, searching for anything amiss. It’s not like Joel hadn’t seen you a complete mess yesterday, your bland outfit so far from what you were used to wearing, your appearance an afterthought as you went into work at an early hour.

But last night, as you tossed and turned, anticipating meeting back up with Joel today, you’d wondered what he expected out of you. Someone pretty to look at, someone deserving of the money? Would you get there and find Joel completely different, taunting the check in your face unless you decided to get on your knees and suck his cock? Let him get a quick fuck in for the money? There was no way he was that charitable, just willing to drop four grand because you’d given him your daddy issues sob story yesterday.

So what was the catch?

There always was one - men with money didn’t just give it away for free unless it was to charity, wanting to look good. And you surely weren’t a charity case by any means. Sex for money seemed like the next logical option to your tired, frazzled brain as you laid awake in the dark. You didn’t know if he presented it like that, would you go along with it? Would you, this far in already, bring yourself to your knees for him?

Joel Miller is certainly handsome, nobody could deny that, but you’d never thought of him in that way, not really. Maybe noticing his broad, muscled shoulders stretching across his suits when you’d seen him, his cocky, warm smile that seemed to melt hearts everywhere he went. He’d always seemed kind, more amiable than your parents’ insufferable network of friends, which you’d taken notice of and respected Joel for over the years. But you’d never thought of yourself with someone older like him, despite seeing those young dates being toted on wealthy, older men’s arms to all kinds of charity events and parties over the years. Would you want that? To be seen like that?

You feel your skin tingle as the thought comes to you again this morning while you get dressed. Joel Miller in a lavish, designer suit, tailored perfectly to his body, you next to him in an equally gorgeous gown that he paid for, your hand slipped between his body and his thick bicep as he glides into a room full of people with you. And he’s proud of how good you look on his arm, how he can show the world just what he’s bought, what he’s paid for. Your head shakes violently as if to jolt the thought far away from you.

“No…” you whisper to yourself. It wouldn’t get that far, you wouldn’t let it. Maybe you’d just take the one check and run, tell Joel you couldn’t be what he was looking for. But that’s when you realize you don’t even know what it is that he may want to get out of this, the curiosity eating at you.

That bastard. Such an enigma he’d painted himself as yesterday when he’d so cooly offered you the money like it was no bother, like he’d expected nothing back. There was always something, always a trade - if you learned anything from your father, it was that.

You can't shake that incessant thought, walking up the steps of Joel’s brownstone, hesitantly knocking on his door and swallowing down the lump in your throat. The assistant you’d met yesterday opens it with a polite smile, beaming at you.

“Welcome. Mr. Miller will be right out,” she says, guiding you to a plush daybed off to the side. You just nod, a little dumbfounded as you step back into his grand foyer. It’s a lavish room with tall ceilings, a skylight at the top pouring extra light in along with the floor to ceiling frosted windows on either side of the front door. Joel’s dress shoes click along the floor, the sound bouncing off the walls as you stiffen and then freeze where you sit. You see him come into view, the top button of his pale blue dress shirt unbuttoned, navy slacks adorning the bottom of his look. He looks a little frazzled himself, like he’d tossed and turned just as much as you had last night. You hadn’t considered the possibility that Joel could have reservations about this now, too, since he’d been the one so eager to offer it up yesterday.

“Thanks, Clara,” Joel says kindly, giving her a nod before Clara skirts along the edge of the room, dismissing herself at Joel’s signal. You watch her go, confidently striding away before you skim your eyes up to Joel’s face, trying not to look too guilty.

“Back this way,” he says, holding out a hand in the direction of his office as if you weren’t here only yesterday. You stand, meeting him, and he quickly takes you in, noticing your complete change in style from yesterday - dressed much more like the businesswoman he knows you loath with a pencil skirt on. He tries not to laugh at the irony as you follow him back, taking that same path you’d just been on yesterday, a strange sense of deja vu washing over you.

You’re silent, just trying to breathe, to remember to stand your ground, not do anything you don’t absolutely want to do. You haven’t signed a contract, you aren’t bound to this, you two are just… talking. Joel smirks as he eyes you, clearly trying to walk in with confidence, but he knows this look - you’re apprehensive about the arrangement, you have questions. They always have questions.

He curves around his desk, pulling out his highback office chair and sinks into it, you doing the same in one of the sleek armchairs in front of his desk. It feels too much like a professional meeting, and your skin prickles with discomfort at how formal this all seems now. His fingers scratch along the checkbook on the desk, and you salivate as you keep widened eyes on it, knowing the number written on there, the promise of more of it to come. Your way out.

“So…” Joel says cooly, letting his hands link together and pulling them behind his head as he leans back a bit, the picture of relaxation. “Let’s talk.”

Is this some kind of sugar daddy situation, or what?

Joel laughs, a genuine smile across his face at your blunt question as he sits across from you.

“Well, in a lot of ways, I ‘spose it is,” he answers casually and honestly. You don’t understand how he can maintain this cool facade, this relaxed attitude given the circumstances. You’d think something so awkward and uncomfortable could get anyone frazzled, but then again, you take it this isn’t Joel’s first go-around with this type of offer. He goes on. “I’ll try to be blunt for both our sakes. We’re busy people. I want to… go beyond jus’ the checks. I’d pay for your lifestyle - school, car, whatever you want. Treat you, too. Give you money for all the things your pretty little heart desires, see you enjoyin’ it.”

That was not what you’d expected him to say. You stare wordlessly, stunned, expecting him to go on, to tell you now what you have to do to earn all of it. He remains quiet though, finally looking the tiniest bit sheepish as the both of you size each other up.

“…And you get?” you finally ask, your face screwed up in confusion as you shrug, throwing your hands up.

Joel smirks again, and you notice the dimple on the side of his face that he seems to prefer tilting his mouth upwards. “I get exactly that. What I said. You enjoyin’ it.”

Your mouth hangs open slightly, eyes narrowing in his direction. You give a tiny shake of your head. “No… there has to be something. One day you’ll turn it around on me, blackmail me or something.”

Joel laughs again, and you’re starting to get irritated at how blasé he seems about all of this. Your foot starts to tap anxiously on the rug underneath your feet, arms crossing over your chest. You try to remain unimpressed as you stare him down, but he’s not budging in the slightest, remaining cool as ever.

“You really think that’s the kind of guy I am, do you now?” he asks with amusement.

You scoff, pinching the inside of your lip between your teeth. “How should I know? You offer me a bunch of money and we hardly know each other, Mr. Miller.”

“First off, Joel, please, unless you’re into that, I ‘spose.” He gives you a suave smirk and your lips part a little, cheeks heating almost immediately at his words and their insinuation before you check yourself, turning back to the conversation. You’re determined not to let his charm get in the way of you walking out of here with your future secured.

“Okay, then, Joel. I just… you don’t want something from me in return? It’s not that I’m not grateful, I just can’t understand.” You tut and glance around the room for a moment to collect your thoughts. “I mean you get it, right? People with money always want something out of it. I’ve seen it my entire life.”

Joel gives you an understanding look. “I do, I get it, sweetheart. If you want me to want somethin’ out of it…” he trails off, pondering for a moment. “If that’d make you feel better about takin’ the money, then why don’t y’come spend some time with me. Let me take you out, or jus’ come by for a nice dinner, me ‘n you. Get to know each other a little, keep an old man company, hm?”

You roll your eyes with a breathy chuckle pushing out of you, feeling yourself relaxing the tiniest bit at his appeal. “Really trying to play the sympathy card calling yourself old, I see,” you say, quirking a teasing brow. You grow more serious with your next words, worrying that you’re signing yourself up for something you aren’t sure you want or even understand. “But uh, I… could do that… if that’s all you want.”

Joel’s gears are turning, and you see a flash of recognition across his face as it falls a little. He leans forward, propping his forearms on the desk, his brows knit tight and eyes narrowed while they watch you. “D’you think I expect you to sleep with me?”

You nearly choke on nothing, just the air that you’re now fighting to gasp in as you clear your throat. Your cheeks burn like something fierce, that notion you’d been so worried about as you tossed and turned last night now sounding so obscenely ridiculous when Joel says it out loud.

“I - I thought maybe that was how this sort of arrangement worked, l-like an unspoken expectation or something. But if you’re saying no -“

“I’m saying no.” Joel is hard with the words, concise, and his gaze ices over. He was kidding himself if he thought he wasn’t even remotely attracted to you, but he was already putting himself in a precarious enough spot with the secrecy of giving you this money behind your father’s back, let alone deciding to bring something as complicated as sex into it.

You didn’t need to know that just the thought of handing you this check made him start to get hard inside his slacks. You didn’t need to know that this wasn’t the first arrangement of this kind for him, the only difference being that most of them involved a relationship of some type, or at least something physical once and a while. There had been times it was just about the money, and sometimes that was enough to satisfy him without the women having to fall into his bed, too. He’d hated that he fell into such a cliche - wealthy older man toting around a younger, gorgeous woman on his arm - but he’d come to accept it by now that this was who he was, trying to come to terms with the shame of it.

“Right… right, good,” you confirm, trying to sound equally as sure. What was that you were feeling? Disappointment? Relief? All you could sense for certain was the way your stomach tightened with nerves as you delved into this conversation with Joel.

“We got enough on our plate without all that, don’t you think?” he asks, a very roundabout way of putting it, you think. Maybe he’s too afraid to hurt your feelings or directly tell you that he’s not interested in sleeping with you, even if that’s what he’d normally do in a situation like this. Joel Miller was nothing if not direct, though, you’d noticed in the last two days. You aren’t even sure why you’re thinking this way - it’s not like you’d really shown much interest in Joel, never thinking of him as accessible in that way. It never went past him being an extended part of your family, one of your father’s inner circle. So if he didn’t want to have sex with you, fine, your ego could take the hit.

“Jus’ the money, helpin’ out a family friend who needs it,” Joel adds, seeing the way you’re a bit lost in thought. You bring yourself back, meeting Joel’s eyes, noticing the rich color of them in the early daylight streaming into his office. They’re so warm despite the chilly facade he can put on.

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Yeah, when you put it like that… I mean we go way back, right? You’re practically family.” You cringe at the words, kind of hating the implication when you’re half flirting with the man and then proceeding to call him your family. “Uh, well, you know what I mean…”

Joel chuckles again, and you return it a bit nervously. “I do, sweetheart. Known your daddy a long time, so I’m trying to be, as dumb as it sounds, respectful.”

Fuck my father, your mind churns out in a flash, not daring to mutter it under your breath. Fuck him for putting you in this position, pushing you to this point where you’ve ended up in Joel Miller’s office, about to become his latest sugar baby because your dad can’t figure out how to love his only child apart from what it could bring to his business.

“Yeah…” you say, putting on a grin that you fear may have started to turn a little diabolical. “Respectful.” You’d be lying to yourself if you thought that this wasn’t starting to entice you more, the idea of such a big screw you to your father.

“So let’s talk terms…” Joel starts more pragmatically, picking up that same pen from the little box on his desk, tapping it on the hard surface a few times before he holds it over a blank page on an open black leather bound notebook. “I like t’start at five hundred for allowance. See how it goes. Then up to two thousand. An’ that’s just for you, and you alone. Your bills will come to me. Your apartment, tuition, your car, anything that’s a bill, I don’t want to see a cent of that allowance come out for it. Is that clear?”

Your mouth is slowly opening to gape at him, eyes tracking across his face as you try to follow what he’s saying, thinking it must be a joke. “S-sorry, but two thousand dollars? A… month?” you ask incredulously. That already sounds like too much to be going from Joel’s pocket to yours if he’s also taking care of your bills.

Joel goes completely smug, lips pressed tightly into a smirk. “You’re cute,” he deadpans. “Per week, sweetheart.”

You almost gasp, shaking your head. “I- no, I just need money for school, to make sure I can do any major I want in school, I don’t n-“

“Shh,” Joel interrupts you. “You came here lookin’ for my help, and this is how I like to do things. You deserve to have fun, not just pay for classes and have no extra money f’yourself.”

“I have plent-“ you start, referring to the extensive funds you have access to thanks to your parents. Funds that you do realize could be ripped out from underneath you at any time, you realize all over again with a quick jolt of fear.

“Enough,” Joel snips, raising a hand, palm facing you for further effect. “If what you tell me is true, I think your daddy ain’t gonna be too keen to pay for all your favorite things you’re used to gettin’ when he learns the truth, is he?”

You look down, ashamed. Were you really that shallow? Is that how you’d been raised to be? Joel sees through your facade right to your designer bag and clothes, all the expensive things you’d gotten accustomed to. But he doesn’t judge you for it - he understands it and he’s a part of that world, whether he likes it or not.

“No…” you murmur in defeat.

“And I’d like to keep seeing you in pretty things: nice clothes, shoes, gettin’ yourself pampered. So, two thousand dollars per week once you earn it.” He grins, setting the pen down and folding his hands together on his desk. You stay quiet, letting him go on, your heart steadily thrumming in your chest louder and louder with every word he says.

“Weekly allowance is, of course, a suggestion. If you need somethin’ more, you ask me. And otherwise, I’ll set your bills, tuition, all of it, to be paid by me.”

“I mean, weekly allowances?” you sputter out, “This is a sugar daddy thing.”

Joel doesn’t waver, he just smiles a little at you, completely unfazed. “We can call it whatever you want, but I see you want it too. I’m gonna be straight w’you here - I want to do this. I like you. I think you’ve got spunk and deserve to carve out a place for yourself in this world. Doin’ something you want, not half heartedly runnin’ your dad’s company someday. So… Do you still want this?” he asks, picking up the check, holding it out towards you. “Don’t think you’d be here if you didn’t.”

Joel’s face is kind, like he’s listening, attentive, acting like he doesn’t have a plethora of meetings or things on his plate today, which you know he must. He’s content to hear you, if you have something to say. You feel your whole body sitting tense and rigid in his chair, your mind spinning. It’s all becoming too much, this idea you had to get out on your own seems to be poked with more holes every day you’ve been trying to work and save up. You don’t really have much of a concept of money, once again thanks to your parents who never thought to put in the effort of teaching you. Why bother when there’s so much of it to go around?

“I- I know… what I’m doing now, the house cleaning, isn’t going to cut it long term. Especially if my parents find out I’ve been bullshitting them before I can save up enough for school and stuff… I just don’t k-“ you clear your throat, holding back the way your voice wants to crack as you fight tears springing to your eyes. “I feel so out of my depth,” you sigh. “I have so much to learn about real life and it’s been so… overwhelming.”

You breathe out a shaky breath, feeling your chest loosen a bit - you’d been holding this all in, doing it on your own for weeks now, not even able to trust your friends with the information even if just to vent about it because everyone in your world always has an angle. It’s exhausting.

Joel hears your words and stands up, going the few paces around his desk to stand next to you. He lays a hand on your shoulder, and you look up from where you sit, seeing him through slightly watery eyes, but you refuse to cry and break down in front of Joel. It would be too embarrassing to recover from. But you’d be damned if you didn’t feel like you were about to snap in half, holding in your tears for weeks now as you navigated this foolish path you’d set yourself on.

He gives your shoulder a squeeze before moving to sit down next to you, turning the identical chair to face you more, settling himself down and crossing one ankle over his knee. He leans towards you, and you do the same, angling your body in the chair to face him. His gaze is so steady and clear, giving you that full sense of his presence once again.

“Y’know…” he starts, scratching a hand through his beard. “I think you’ve got more potential than you’re givin’ yourself credit for.”

You snort, a tiny scoffing sound. “Oh yeah?” you spit out sarcastically, “That I have no experience, no references, nothing to show for all the time I wasted doing what my dad wanted? Except for a last name and a family that people recognize.”

Joel tuts and bites the inside of his lip. “You’re smart and so young with all this potential. You know this kinda talk ain’t gonna get you anywhere. Neither is feelin’ sorry for yourself. All you can do is use the opportunities you’re given, like this one landing in your lap from me today. Right?”

“Y-yeah, I mean, I guess you’re right. This just feels… kind of wrong.”

“Well we ain’t a couple of saints for doing this behind your daddy’s back, that’s for sure.”

You find yourself chuckling softly amidst the seriousness of the situation weighing on your chest. You honestly don’t have a clue how your father would react if he found out about this - he’s unpredictable and stubborn, and you’ve seen his vindictive side more than a handful of times. It makes your stomach clench a little at the thought of him unleashing any of that in your direction. You strengthen your resolve, unwilling to let your father stop you from exploring new horizons any longer. It was your life to live, and it was about time you did what you wanted.

“A-alright,” you tell Joel, sighing out a calming breath and sitting up straighter. “Alright, I’m in, then. What’s next?”

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

#fic: honey honey #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #sugar daddy! joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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wooyngz · 2 days ago

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i, personally, love the whole “caleb is a panty sniffer” thing bc that is so hot to me?? like?

i picture riding him, bouncing hard and fast on him. he can't decide whether he wants to watch your tits bounce to the rhythm or watch the faces you make when the head of his cock nudges just right inside of you.

either way he's completely spent. he's a moaning mess beneath you, but his noises are muffled because your panties are stuffed into his mouth.

like i picture being roommates with caleb and you’ve been missing a few pairs of underwear here and there for months. and you don’t want to accuse him of taking them, but anytime you complain about it to him, he flushes the lightest shade of pink and then miraculously they’re back in your drawer a week later.

this time your favorite pair is gone, the pretty red lace ones that you wear when you wanna feel hot. you’re supposed to be out somewhere but you end up finishing early and when you return home you can hear a faintest groans coming from caleb’s room. you go investigate but you’re certainly not expecting to see what you do when you open the door.

caleb with his pants around his ankles, his hard length proudly on display as he strokes himself, and he's got a pair of your laciest underwear in his hand, gripping on like it's his life source, holding it to his nose. you don’t mean to but a small, “oh,” slips out of your mouth. it cuts through the quiet room and caleb’s eyes lift to yours, shock filling them.

then he’s turning so red he may as well have been one of the apples he loves so much. you're not mad, though, which you find surprising; you're turned on. you also feel slightly validated the he was stealing them. as you slowly walk into the room he starts rambling out excuses and explanations. he all but trips onto the bed as you back him up against it.

“don't wanna hear it, caleb.” you say, taking the panties from him, while slowly pulling down your pants. his eyes widen, and you swear you see his cock give an enthusiastic twitch. “you're fucking filthy,” you say, but you're climbing on top of him, you're hovering over his hardness. you leave your underwear on, since he seems to like them so much. you do pull them to the side so he can see that you’re glistening, you’re just as turned on as he is. “fuck…” he says, almost to himself as he gets a clear view of your pussy.

“shit, i know. i am filthy,” he whines, looking at you with pleading eyes, “i’m sor-”

his words are cut off when you stuff your panties into his mouth. you click your tongue at him, reaching one hand between you to rub his tip along your wet folds, gathering up your arousal. “told you i didn't want to hear what you had to say.”

then you're sinking down on him. you both let out a moan at the feeling. he’d already been so close before you walked in it’s taking everything in him not to cum immediately. you lift your shirt up so that you're on display for him, and his hands immediately grip your tits, but he pulls away with a whimper when you give him a look that says he can look but not touch.

the pace is fast and relentless, you're trying to draw and orgasm from him as quick as you can and it shows. the sound of your arousal and skin slapping together is filling the room and ultimately that's what pushes him over the edge. his moans get higher in pitch and more frequent. you lift off of him and work him over with your hand until he's cumming on his stomach, chest heaving.

you pull you underwear from his mouth, he lets out a huff of a breath when you do and you use them to clean him up. “you do that often?” you ask him casually, finishing your clean up and standing up from the bed.

he doesn't answer right away, but when he does his voice sounds bashful, “not really,” he says but you know he's lying. you let him get away with it though. partially because you don't want to embarrass him, and partially because you're hoping you can catch him doing it again.

#like???#idk maybe it's just me #caleb #love and deepspace #lads caleb #lads smut #caleb x reader smut #caleb x reader #caleb smut #love and deepspace caleb #lads x reader #🍎⊹ ࣪

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sleeplessspell · 1 day ago

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The Art of the Gift

The guards call me “The Ghost.”

The street kids call me “King Penny.”

The nobles? They call me “an urban menace,” though one did accuse me of being a rogue socialist with a flair for drama. I liked that one.

Most folks know me simply as the generous thief.

It’s funny. I spent most of my life stealing to survive—picking pockets, unlocking safes, creeping past sleeping guards. For years, I was a whisper behind every vanished heirloom and misplaced gem. And now? Now I’m the one giving things away.

How things change.

It started the day I robbed the Vault of Lynthar. You’ve probably heard of it: built by dwarves a century ago, seven subterranean levels, three rotating floor traps, and one blind, sword-wielding, enchanted golem named G’erthud. I still have a scar from where he nearly made me a head shorter. But when I cracked the final door and stared into the golden abyss, I realized something terrifying.

I had no idea what to do next.

That pile of gold wasn’t just wealth—it was freedom. Freedom to buy castles, build kingdoms, retire on a beach with someone pretty and a wine glass in hand. And I felt… nothing.

So, I left. I took a sack of coins and disappeared. Left the rest behind for the vultures to fight over.

And then years later, after the scandal had died down, somewhere between boredom and a particularly forgettable bathhouse, I had an idea.

If I couldn’t steal anymore, maybe I could still sneak. Old habits die hard, after all. So I slipped a silver coin into a beggar’s satchel while he slept. I didn’t expect much. Maybe a confused look, a grateful prayer to some forgotten god. But when I passed by the next day, I saw him standing tall, holding a loaf of bread in one hand and sharing it with a child in the other.

And I felt… something. Something good.

So I did it again.

And again.

Two years later, the capital of Aelren buzzes with rumors.

They say if your purse feels heavier in the morning, it means the generous thief has passed you by. They say he moves like smoke and whispers like wind. That he wears shadows like a second skin and has a laugh like distant chimes. I never meant to become a legend, but here we are.

I live in the attic of an old watchmaker’s shop. Mr. Verin knows I’m not exactly renting, but he’s also too blind to care and too tired to chase me out. He leaves out extra bread sometimes. I pay him back with new pocket watch cases I commission from a smith across town.

My days are quiet. But nights? Nights are for the dance.

I slink across rooftops like a lazy cat, hunting for empty windows and open shutters. But instead of snatching lockets or letters, I leave things behind—coins tucked into boots, necklaces draped on mantels, little carved wooden toys left on windowsills.

I’ve perfected the art of reverse theft.

And the city has noticed.

One evening, as I perch atop a chimney overlooking the Plaza of Whispers, I hear a commotion below. A crowd has gathered, murmuring and pointing at a notice posted on the old well.

Curious, I drop down and melt into the throng.

The paper reads:

“By order of Queen Mirena, a royal bounty of 10,000 gold pieces is offered to anyone who can reveal the identity of the so-called ‘generous thief.’ This figure is believed to be a skilled rogue and is hereby declared wanted—not for crimes, but for curiosity.”

Beneath it, a handwritten note:

“Come have tea with me. – M.”

I laugh aloud.

The Queen and I have a history. We were inseparable once—both orphans of the war, scuttling through the orphanage halls like mice. She grew up and put on a crown. I grew up and put on a mask.

We haven’t spoken in over two decades.

Until now.

I accepted the invitation two nights later. Not by knocking, of course—what do you take me for?

I slip through the western tower’s laundry chute, past a dozing guard, and into the Queen’s garden. A table awaits, already set: two chairs, a pot of jasmine tea, two steaming cups.

She’s there, waiting, wrapped in silks that shimmer like moonlight. But her eyes—those eyes haven’t changed a bit.

“You’re late,” she says, sipping her tea.

“You put a bounty on my head,” I reply. “Had to be sure it wasn’t a trap.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t say dead or alive, did I?”

“No,” I admit. “But I’ve met your new captain. Subtlety doesn’t seem like her strong suit.”

She gently slaps my hand. “Be nice, Almira is lovely.”

We drink in silence for a while, surrounded by roses more expensive than houses and the chirp of crickets.

Eventually, she says, “You know this is madness, right?”

“Which part?”

“All of it. The sneaking. The gold. The secrecy. If you want to help people, there are better ways.”

“Like taxes?”

She grimaces. I set my cup down.

“I don’t do this to fix the world, Maeve. I do it because it’s who I am. I can’t stop sneaking. Can’t stop watching, listening. This is the only thing I know.”

“Then why give the gold away?”

That gives me pause, I think for a moment.

“Because I’ve stolen enough. Because the world is hard, and coins make it softer. Because I like the look on people’s faces when they find a silver where there should be none. Because... I can.”

She nods, quietly. Then she says something that surprises me.

“You’re doing good work. Just... be careful. Most of the nobility want to use you as a deterrent, to show what happens to those who defy them. The rest want your head. Plain and simple.”

I chuckle. “What else is new?”

Weeks pass. The city grows warmer. Word spreads of new bakeries funded overnight, of a sick boy whose family woke to find a purse heavy enough to afford a healer, of an old woman who found a deed to her house signed and sealed.

Still, the hunt for me intensifies. Traps are laid. Whispers turn into shouts. I start wearing masks again, disguises. I start walking in daylight, passing as a common merchant or a bard, or a fool. The danger is half the fun.

But one night, while dropping a small pouch into a barrel behind a struggling tavern, I feel a presence.

I spin, dagger drawn.

It’s a child.

A girl in her teens with eyes like embers and a jaw set like iron.

“It’s you,” she says, half shocked, half amazed. “You’re King Penny.”

I lower my blade. “What makes you say that?”

“I’ve been watching. You walk funny. You hum when you think no one’s around. You left coins at Mrs. Henley’s door last week.”

I blink. “You followed me?”

She shrugs. “You’re not that sneaky.”

“Excuse me?” I sputter.

“I want to help,” she says simply. “Teach me.”

“No.”

She folds her arms. “Why not?”

“Because this isn’t a game. Because powerful people are looking for me. Because—” I pause. “Because you’re a kid.”

“A kid who snuck up on you,” she retorts. “Listen, I know ten people on this street who’ve eaten better this month because of you. I want to do that too.”

I sigh. “What’s your name?”

“Paper.”

“Fine, Paper. I’ll give you a test.”

Her eyes light up.

“Tomorrow night. The baker on North Street. You slip this into her flour bag without being seen.” I toss her a gold coin. “If you pull it off, maybe I teach you.”

She grins, snatches the coin, and vanishes into the alley like smoke.

And for the first time in years, I feel something close to purpose.

That was six months ago.

Now, I’m not alone.

Paper has three recruits of her own—scrappy, fast, loyal kids with eyes sharper than blades. Together, we’ve become something else: not just a legend, but a movement.

We’re still ghosts. Still whispers. But now, when the nobles lay traps, they catch empty baskets. When guards wait in alleyways, they hear only laughter from rooftops.

And across the city, hope grows—not just in pockets, but in hearts.

As for me?

I’m still a rogue.

Still a creature of the night.

But now, I’m also a giver. A mentor. A myth people want to believe in.

I don’t know what my legacy will be. I don’t need statues or songs.

Just the occasional story.

Of a thief who gave too much.

And taught others to do the same.

You’re a rogue with enough gold to last ten lifetimes. But old habits die hard—you sneak through crowds, slipping coins into people’s pockets. The kingdom is buzzing about the mysterious, generous "thief."

#writing prompts #writing #fiction

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puck-luck · 3 days ago

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omg your celly is so cute! i’d like to order a cappuccino with cold foam for luke hughes. i just really want something cute or playful with yearning from luke. maybe friends or friends with benefits? i hope this makes sense and i did this right, thank uuu

thank you!! i hope this was enough yearning for you, i'm thinking that luke really does want something more with y/n. i think y/n just doesn't want anything to change between them. we'll see if this blurb continues in the future (i might add a pt.2 in another celly request<3)

“Oooh, Y/N and Luke are going in the closet,” Kayleigh chirps. Rutger sits next to her, arm slung over her shoulders. He sticks out his tongue, grinning widely. Similar chirps echo through the room as you and Luke stand up, rolling your eyes and making a face at all of the onlookers. They’re making a big deal out of this game and the fact that you and Luke are going into the closet for seven minutes. What they don’t know is that you and Luke started hooking up in his first semester at UMich and it has continued through each of his visits back to the state.

“Oooh,” Luke mocks as he closes the door, plunging you both into darkness. He turns around and faces you, grinning widely.

“I can’t believe I have to be in the closet with you,” you bemoan, pinching your lips together and scrunching your nose fondly when Luke rolls his eyes and shakes his head, his whole body sagging. As he stands back to his full height, though, his smile is wider that Rut’s.

“I know,” Luke responds. “It’s such a joke. You and me in the closet? As if anything would ever happen between us.”

You chuckle, biting your lower lip lightly as Luke locks the door behind him. The click sounds and your eyebrows twitch, daring Luke to come closer.

He does. He approaches you with his tongue poking through his bite, giggling breathlessly as he cradles your face and sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. He consumes you whenever he kisses you, always treating it like it’s the last time he’ll get the chance.

“Is this all we’re going to do in our seven minutes?” you ask between kisses.

Luke hums, tongue stroking yours sensually. “Consider it foreplay.”

“You confident that you’ll get to home base tonight?”

“You think I won’t?”

Now it’s your turn to hum, tilting your head to the left and reconnecting with Luke when he tilts to his left. “Hmm, I don’t know. Don’t you have to leave soon? Go back to your parents’ house since you don’t live here anymore?”

Luke makes a wounded noise, his hand trailing down from your jaw to cup your tit. “Are you making fun of me?”

You giggle. “I’d never.”

Luke’s kisses turn softer. It’s probably been four or five minutes now, so your time is coming to an end. You’ll have to separate soon, but it’s so hard when Luke’s entire palm is sealed over your breast comfortably. If you had more time, Luke would brush his fingertips beneath the underwire of your bra or reach past the cup to thumb over your nipple.

“You should meet them,” Luke murmurs. “I think they’d like to meet the girl I’ve been sleeping with for a couple of years now.”

“Careful, Lu,” you warn in your sweetest voice. You twirl a curl around one of your fingers, tugging gently. You brush his lips again. “One of these days, someone will start to think that you like-like me.”

“Wouldn’t that be something,” Luke ponders aloud. He smiles into the kiss and moves his palm from your chest to your behind. He smooths over your ass, digging his fingers into the meat there before letting go. “I feel like someone has been saying that for a while now.”

“Oh, but he only says it when he’s having sex,” you tease. “It really confuses a girl.”

“Well if the girl comes to meet my parents…” Luke trails off. He fills your mouth with one last sweep of his tongue and plants a kiss on your neck. “It’s not really just when we have sex, is it?”

“Maybe sometimes when you’re on the road, but then you usually start jerking off.” You beam up at him, hands removed from his body and clasped behind your back. “But I don’t mind.” You let your eyes roam down his figure before your friends outside open the door and catch you and Luke in a situation. “You should wear looser pants next time we play Seven Minutes in Heaven. Inviting me to meet your parents really gives you a stiffy.”

He grins at you and tries to adjust himself into a position less noticeable. “Better?”

You shake your head, snickering. “It’s just too big, Lukey…”

“Don’t– talk about how big my dick is,” Luke says through gritted teeth. “You’re going to make it worse.”

You brush past him towards the door, cupping his cock through his pants. “Size kink?”

Luke hisses at you, sucking air through his teeth and circling his fingers around your wrist. He pulls your hand away, holding it in front of his chest, far away from his crotch. “Stop it.”

You wiggle your fingers at him and unlock the door with your other hand, twisting the knob and leaving Luke to sort out his big problem.

#1 year of puck-luck!#andy writes anything🍄#luke hughes #luke hughes smut #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x reader #lh blurb #lh43

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midnghtprentiss · 10 hours ago

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possessive - jack abbot

a/n: so i have this scenario in my head but idk if i love it or hate it, it’s up to you at this point 😭 sorry for any misspellings, english is not my first language

pairing: jack abbot x f!pediatrician!reader

summary: jack abbot is a possessive man and we love that

warnings: dr abbot being hot, myrna being inconvenient as always, medical inaccuracies, let me know if i missed something (gif not mine i just find it here)

Possessive is a word referred to ownership or a relationship of belonging between one thing and another.

Is the state of having, owning, or controlling something.

Jack Abbot was a possessive man.

Not an inconvenient possessive man. He was subtle. One hand at the end of your back. Picking you up at the end of your shift when he isn’t working. Talking to you with the softest voice. Sharing coffee or a granola bar he had in his pocket for you. The glances to other men when you’re walking by.

He had nothing to fear with you. You sleep and wake up with him every day. He knew exactly how to show someone that you belonged to him without saying a word. He hasn't put a ring on your finger and yet everybody in the ED understands you’re his girl and nobody was crazy to question him.

It was supposed to be your day off. You already made plans with Emery and Parker to go out for dinner and have some drinks like you do every month. That’s your way of gossiping and keeping the bond stronger, especially working at male dominated fields. Keeping the girls together makes the job easier and better. You were even planning to invite Samara to the next dinner.

The best thing about the trio was initially to piss Jack off and because you worked so well together and a friendship naturally bloomed - and thank god it did. The funniest, dirtiest and best conversations came out so easily between you that it was impossible to keep track of the actual dialogue topic when you combined.

Unfortunately your phone vibrated in your purse during dinner with a message from Robby letting you know there was an emergency of a child that fell and the parents were asking for you. These things were pretty normal in your routine when you work with pediatrics emergencies. In less than fifteen minutes you were walking towards the ED entrance like you weren't just discussing panties over drinks.

Worst part of it? You had no time to change your clothes. So you were standing at the nursing station with the most expensive Valentino dress you own, brand new shoes and your favorite coat to protect you from the cold.

The scrubs were a protocol when you’re working and you were not. You hated to work without them and hated even more that your backup scrubs were not in your car. Jack must’ve taken them to wash and didn’t put them back.

Jack didn’t see you coming and he had no idea of the dress you chose for your girls night. Bridget was already laughing when you entered, holding you something to cover up until you have to leave again. She quickly took your overcoat and gave you a white coat, which helped a little but not too much because of your heels clicking at the floor.

“Wow doc, didn’t know you could look that hot.” You heard Garcia teased and shook your head laughing. “You should show up like this more often, as an experiment of course.”

“I appreciate your words Yoyo. Maybe next time I'll show up with your favorite color.” She blew you a kiss and walked away laughing.

“He’s going to need to be sedated when he hears you’re in his ED looking like this” Robby chuckled when he found at the nursing station. “Sorry I've called you, they insisted on being you. They are barely letting Mel work there.’

“It’s fine, Robby. I don’t like my day off anyway.” You winked and went straight to the room they were in.

The child parents came running to you the moment you entered their plain sight. Dr. King was accompanying them before you arrived, describing the situation in detail and how she dealt with them. And for her face you knew how those parents weren’t easy to deal with.

“Dr (Y/L/N), this is Jamie, 10 month old, previously healthy, fell from the crib around 9 p.m.. According to the mother, he tried to pull himself up using the crib rails, lost his balance, and fell over the side of the crib, landing directly on the floor. He cried immediately for about fifteen minutes, with no loss of consciousness and no vomiting. The mother noted only mild bruises in the right frontotemporal region, with no other signs of trauma. He remained active, fed normally, and showed no changes in consciousness or behavior. “ You heard Mel's words with attention while examining the child.

“You ordered any exams, doctor King?” She nodded and passed you the chart to look at.”

“A CT, x-ray and some labs just to make sure everything is perfectly fine.” You nodded, shaking your head.

“Excellent.” You smiled at her and turned your attention to the parents.

“Does he cry when he moves? Has he had any seizures? Allergies or something we need to know?” They kept denying. “Why don’t you bring him early? It’s almost one in the morning.” The parents kept their silence and you shrugged your shoulders, looking at them. “Alright then. Doctor King will accompany you to the CT and the x-ray.”

Something you loved about yourself was the way you’re pretty centered and rigid about your job, especially working around and with children. Fighting with parents? You do every shift. Making the little ones laugh? You did it too. You were tough and nice but at the same time the children absolutely loved you. The most common thing to see was you holding a child mid shift and laughing about it with the nurses.

He was waiting for you at the nursing station. Coffee in hand. Jaws tighten when his eyes land on you. Eyebrows raised while he analyzed your shoes. You leaned closer to him, enough to look professional and only a little mischievous so he could smell your new perfume - the one he bought you.

“Hi there, doctor Abbot.” You touched his arm and smiled, knowing exactly what he was going to ask. “Peds emergency, they have to call the best.”

“This is not workplace clothing.” His hand reached yours, quickly brushing your finger.

“I had a nice time at dinner, thanks for asking, by the way.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll go home when his exams are finished. I won’t even leave this spot.” You sit in the vague chair and cross your arms.

“Nice coat, actually.” Dr. Jack Abbot. It was his coat. “You should work with this more often since you don’t want to change your last name.”

Before you can even replied you heard Myrna screaming at the other side of the room.

“Nice ass, MacDreamy.” She pointed at you.

“Been working out lately, Myrna. Do you like it?” You teased her and she giggled.

“Watch out or I’ll steal your girl, Abbot. I killed a man before and I can do it again.”

When you turned to look at Jack again, he was serious. His forehead was tense and his knuckles white from holding his coffee mug. His hair was a little messy and there was some blood in his scrubs.

Hot. Really hot.

He didn’t care when your friends, female friends, flirted with you because he knew you flirted back joking. He respected your boundaries and you respected him too. You still find it pretty amusing how he gets all possessive over small things, lucky you he didn’t see the dress you were wearing underneath the white coat.

Vintage Valentino, sheer black chiffon, off-the-shoulder neckline with the fabric draped down the arms, creating a dramatic, sophisticated look. At the bust, a large central bow, asymmetrical and flowing skirt, with soft, layered fabric and a high front slit that reveals the left leg. Jack never complained or talked badly about your clothing, he actually enjoyed seeing you wearing the clothes you liked - he enjoyed taking off more. He describes being an extension of your personality.

“Want to talk about that dress?” He lifted up the white coat a little. “Showing legs and neck like crazy, hm?”

“Nope, we’re not doing this here. You’re working.”

“Why not? I thought you like showing off a little too much.” He crossed his arms and you sigh.

“Oh my God, is this foreplay?” His eyes locked on yours. “Fuck it, I’m into it.”

“Just stay here until the boy it’s back.” He stared at you for a few seconds and you tried to control your smile.

“Are you jealous, Abbot?” You heard Shen comment and buried your face in your hands. He just gave him the nastiest look you’ve ever seen in your life and you can tell he already gave you some looks at you in the bedroom.

The exams took a while to get ready and when they returned to the emergency room, you met them again holding a tablet to explain the situation to them. Immediately the little boy was already in your arms, resting his head over your shoulder.

“The CT and the x-ray both came normal, no injury or other systemic trauma. He’s safe and sound. If you notice something is different, bring him immediately.” You hold his little hand and smile brightly. “You’re lucky to be here today, Jamie.”

The parents asked a few questions about the exams and the therapy you chose for him and after they left you stayed inside the empty room for a while before you left to grab the rest of your stuff.

Jack was talking something with Robby when you approached them, taking off the white coat that belonged to your man and putting on your warm and cozy overcoat. His eyes went straight to your almost bare chest, he had to scan the room pretty quickly for perverts watching you. One drunk guy screamed that he wanted you to talk to him, Myrna said something about your ass again and this time Mel came in complementing your legs.

“You should be grateful you weren’t there when Emery and Parker saw me, you probably be in jail now.” He helped you close the buttons of your coat.

“Remind me to put a goddamn ring on your finger.” He whispered closer to you, making you burst out laughing.

“What a romantic proposal. I’m really emotional.” Jack rolled his eyes, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I already heard some jerks talking about you and I didn’t appreciate their tone.” You passed your arms around his shoulder - ignoring the PDA rule you established for work.

“Yeah, I’m still sleeping in your bed tho.” He agreed, laughing softly. “Gotta go now. Emery is waiting for me at Five Guys and I could kill for a burger now.”

“Be careful, beautiful.”

“Try to go home in one piece.” You squeezed his shoulder and winked before walking away.

When you arrived for your next shift there was a big diamond on your finger and the biggest smirk on Jack's face when people started to talk about it.

#the pitt #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #dr abbot #dr abbot x reader

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eraserbread · 11 hours ago

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omg. i love horny pregnant wife so much. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE more with nanami or toji🙏 you’re such a talented writer ily

you're seeing sides to your husband, nanami, that you didn't even know existed... until three months ago when you found out he got you pregnant.

creeping into the second trimester, your body is in constant aching pain -- it starts in your abdomen, sometimes, morphing into cramps in your lower back as your belly begins to bulge.

it's knocked you into needing to waddle everywhere you go, and stuck in bed when he's not around.

but, this morning, he is around. you wake up alone, the sun is bright, and the air smells like miso and eggs. kento knows it's all you've been wanting to eat lately, so he wakes up early on his day off to make it for you.

his back is turned to you when you waddle into the kitchen, feet dragging in your house shoes over the cold floor. ken stands shirtless, standing at the stove, stirring a pot of soup -- it awakens something within you.

you're left staring in the doorway, swallowing down the thickness of absolute, carnal, bodily need.

you can't even find the strength to speak, all of the life you had is rushing between your thighs, burning you alive. biting your lip, you cross your knees.

of course, he notices you after a second, drawn in by the savory, familiar smell of you behind the waft of miso. kento peeks over his shoulder.

"love, you should have stayed in bed."

"why?" your whisper is fucked already, rasping and grating in your throat.

"because your body needs rest. doctor's orders." then he's turning around, steaming bowl of miso cradled in his grip.

you're sweating, watching his bare, sexy chest stare you down in a way that genuinely makes you feral. him and his ruffled hair, shadowed eyes, and furrowed eyebrows.

"pleasepleasepleaseplease," you're begging, mouth full of cotton as you're tearing through bedsheets. kento's situated behind you, thick tongue drawing masterful, sticky circles against your quivering cunt.

yours to the core, there's nothing he loves more than eating you up. since the pregnancy, that feeling is heightened tenfold. you're pulling off your pants, and he's getting that smell in his nose -- that hunger in his body.

and even better, your libido is coming back with this trimester, letting him take his time as he sucks you clean. face down, ass up - hips supported by a pillow, because he wants you to be as comfortable as possible.

kento lets you do all the talking -- all the blubbery crying and pitiful moans you've been keeping. it's like a river down here, buried nose-deep in your ass, his tongue can't keep up the onslaught of constant, dripping slick. he's full off of your taste, but that doesn't mean he won't give his wife what she wants.

"oh, my god. i'm gonna die. gonna -- gonna kill me 'f you don't put it innn!" you're arching your back when he pulls away, licking over his flushed lips, memorizing the taste so he can carry it with him throughout the day.

but, he's taking too long. just one second over your limit, and you're sobbing. "put it in! what are you fucking waiting for, it hurts!"

"oh..." kento doesn't react, knowing anything could set you off further. he does sit up, fishing his erection from his loose linen pants to slide between your aching cunt. he won't tease you for very long now, but he is curious to see how much you're willing to beg...

"you motherfuc-

that disrespect? kento uses it as fuel, and with one fateful swoop, he's burying himself inside of you, punching a guttural, needy scream from your chest.

"well, that's not very nice." he's growling, rolling his hips forward to chase some friction. closing his big body over yours, a single hand presses over the back of your neck, squeezing just enough to emit some pain. he doesn't want to actually hurt you now that you're carrying his daughter, but he does want to establish patience.

cursed nicknames have no space in your loving home.

"i'm sorryyyy--mmhmf!"

he's fucking you so well, now, thick, slippery cock sliding out to the tip, only to slam back in to the hilt. he hurts so good -- so wholly. it's like he's devouring you whole.

this feeling... it was so different, so perfect. all you can think about is your kento pressing another baby in you.

call it greed or lust, kento thinks it's something adjacent to absolute, abiding love and trust.

#thank u anonnn 🙏 ily too #need to cuss kento out too lowkey wait--#.nanami <3 #.the wife guy!! <3 #eraserasks #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #nanami fanfic #nanami x you

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zornofzorna-blog · 2 days ago

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I am just old enough (born in the late 80s) to have seen the rise of the name Madison in my lifetime, and I remember watching Splash as a kid, so it is amusing to me to see gen z-ers getting their minds blown by what was, I thought, a fairly well-documented bit of trivia...

Like, I don't remember having any Madisons in my class in school, but I think my little sister (born in the mid-90s) probably did. I definitely know that our mom had a baby name book from the 80s titled, "Beyond Jennifer & Jason," and by the time my sister came along they had published a sequel called, "Beyond Jennifer & Jason, and Madison & Montana," which attests to the boom in popularity of place names as given names starting right around that time. And I am pretty sure that Madison in Splash had a lot to do with that trend. (It's worth noting that the name Jennifer owed much of its popularity in the 80s to a movie character as well.)

However, I do have an additional theory about the name Madison that I haven't seen anyone else mention - and, yes, it has to do with mermaids!

You see, I am a bit of a folklore nerd, and it has not escaped my notice that Splash is, very loosely, an adaptation of a particular mermaid legend that goes back to the Middle Ages, and the mermaid in that story is named... Melusine.

Like Madison in Splash, Melusine looks like a human woman except for when she bathes, when the water transforms the lower half of her body into a scaly tail. And, like Madison, Melusine has to keep her true nature secret from the man she loves.

I first encountered the story of Melusine in Sabine Baring-Gould's Curious Myths of the Middle Ages. According to Wikipedia, the tale was first collected by Jean d'Arras around 1382-1394 (almost exactly 6 centuries before Splash!) although it had probably existed as a folktale before that, and it went on to influence much of the mermaid lore and literature that came after it. Hans Christian Andersen's Little Mermaid and Dvorak's Rusalka can both trace their literary roots back to Melusine.

In the film, of course, the joke is that the mermaid asks the Tom Hanks character to list some possible girl's names for her while they are walking in New York, and he interrupts his list to read the street sign for Madison Avenue, and the mermaid, mistaking "Madison" for a name on the list, immediately adopts that as her name.

Now, I've seen some good commentary in the notes about why "Madison," in particular, works here (and why it subsequently took off): obviously, it was funny at the time because the name was known only as a surname, the most notable bearer of which being a man, so it was incongruous on the surface as a name for an attractive young woman. However, by the end of the film, viewers should fully accept it as her name, and so "Madison" works where, say, "Washington" probably would not, partly because of its similarity to names like "Madeline" and "Alison," both of which date back to at least the Middle Ages as women's given names ("Madeline" comes from Mary Magdalene, and "Alison" is attested to in Chaucer). And, thus, "Madison" came into the public consciousness as a charmingly quirky, unconventional name for an attractive girl.

All of that is certainly reason enough for the scriptwriters to choose the name Madison for their mermaid. And maybe that really is all there is to it! But I like the idea that the literary lineage I mentioned was actively on their minds, and that, perhaps, of all the quirky, off-beat names they could have given their mermaid, they (consciously or unconsciously) gravitated to a name that bears a loose similarity to that of her medieval foremother, Melusine!

So, if all the Madisons of today are named after a mermaid, it may just be that they are actually, indirectly named after another, older mermaid!

I’m watching Splash (1984) which is a romcom about a guy who falls in love with a mermaid, and when she chooses a human name she chooses Madison and guy says “that’s not a real name, but alright” which seems to imply that Madison was not a name until at least the 80’s and all girls named Madison are actually named after the mermaid. thought you should know

#mermaid #melusine #names #madison #onomastics #etymology #linguistics #films #fairy tales #medieval #mythology #folklore #literature #fascinating #funny #my thoughts

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izzih22 · 1 day ago

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I loveeeee the clingy Azzi concept sooo, can you do one where Paige and Azzi get into an argument and Azzi tells Paige to sleep on the couch then a few hours later like really late, Azzi misses her so she tries to get Paige to come back ( while trying to act mad, but she misses her girlfriend) to bed but Paige is all sleepy and stubborn so Azzi just ends up sleeping on the couch with her? (Paige is teasing Azzi about how much she misses her)

I’m Not Mad… I Just Miss You

Note: sorry it’s short

It started with something small like most arguments do. Azzi had asked Paige to make sure she set the alarm for practice in the morning, but Paige had been distracted, caught up in a text message. Azzi, tired and a little grumpy, had snapped. Paige had, in turn, gotten defensive.

The next thing they knew, they were at each other’s throats over something that, in the grand scheme of things, didn’t matter. Paige’s voice had risen, then Azzi’s, until finally, the words were out: “Fine! If you’re so mad, just sleep on the couch!”

Paige didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her pillow and blanket, threw one last look at Azzi, and made her way to the living room. Azzi stood frozen, feeling a twinge of regret almost immediately. She hadn’t meant it. It was just a fight. She didn’t want space. She wanted to feel close to Paige again.

But Paige was already settled on the couch, curled up with her back to Azzi, and the silence in the room felt suffocating.

Azzi tossed and turned in bed, trying to convince herself she was fine, but the emptiness beside her was too much. She rolled over, staring at the dark ceiling, feeling the weight of the tension pressing down on her chest. It wasn’t even about the alarm anymore. She just missed Paige.

After what felt like an eternity, Azzi finally gave up. She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t do this. She needed Paige.

Quietly, Azzi got out of bed and padded toward the living room. The soft glow of the TV illuminated the space, and she saw Paige, still lying there, eyes closed. The sight of her made Azzi’s chest ache.

“Paige,” Azzi said softly, standing in the doorway.

Paige didn’t stir. Azzi hesitated, then took a step closer. “Paige,” she tried again, her voice a little firmer.

Finally, Paige opened one eye, squinting up at her. “What?”

Azzi stood there, arms crossed, trying to act like she wasn’t about to break. “I—” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “I miss you. Come back to bed.”

Paige yawned, clearly half asleep, and gave her a sleepy smile. “Uh, no. You told me to sleep on the couch, remember? You can’t just change your mind now.”

Azzi crossed her arms, putting on her best ‘I’m still mad’ face. “I’m not changing my mind. I just—” She let out a frustrated sigh. “I just don’t like sleeping without you.”

Paige turned over, pulling the blanket tighter around her, pretending to ignore Azzi. “Yeah, well, I’m comfortable here. You should’ve thought about that before you kicked me out.”

Azzi moved closer, sitting down at the edge of the couch. She tried to keep the distance between them, but she couldn’t help herself. She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Paige’s face. “Come on, Paige. It’s cold without you in bed.”

Paige snorted, eyes still closed. “I’m sure it is. You’re probably cold because you miss me, huh?”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “I don’t miss you,” she said, but the words came out too soft, too unsure.

Paige smiled, her voice teasing but tired. “Uh-huh. Sure, you don’t. That’s why you’re standing here, looking like you’re about to cry.”

Azzi crossed her arms again, trying to act like she wasn’t completely melting inside. “Shut up. I’m not crying.”

Paige laughed softly, then shifted a little, clearly giving in despite herself. “Fine. I’ll come back to bed… but only because I’m so comfortable out here.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Oh, sure, because you’re just so comfortable on the couch.”

Paige opened her eyes, a wicked glint in her tired gaze. “Exactly. I’m practically king-sized on this thing.”

Azzi huffed, throwing herself onto the couch beside Paige. “You’re impossible.”

Paige stretched out, making more room for Azzi to snuggle up. “I know. Now come here, before you get any weirder about it.”

Azzi couldn’t help but smile. She scooted closer, resting her head on Paige’s shoulder. Paige lazily draped an arm over her, and Azzi felt that familiar warmth she’d been missing all night. The tension from their earlier argument seemed to slip away with every little touch, every breath they shared.

“You’re so stubborn,” Azzi mumbled into her shirt, feeling the soft fabric against her cheek.

Paige chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to Azzi’s hair. “Yeah, well, I learned it from you. Besides, you miss me, admit it.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “I’m not admitting anything.”

Paige tightened her hold around Azzi, pulling her closer. “You don’t have to admit anything. I already know.”

Azzi sighed contentedly, pressing closer. “I’m sorry for being so stubborn earlier.”

Paige’s fingers traced small circles on Azzi’s back. “It’s okay. I get it. I don’t like fighting with you, either.”

Azzi settled in, letting herself relax against Paige’s warmth. The couch was too small, but it didn’t matter. Paige was there. She wasn’t going anywhere. And even though they’d fought, they were okay now.

“I love you,” Azzi whispered, her voice soft as she felt her eyelids growing heavy.

Paige’s response was a lazy smile, her hand brushing through Azzi’s hair as she pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I love you, too, dork.”

And just like that, the argument was forgotten. Azzi was back in Paige’s arms, and nothing else seemed to matter anymore.

#pazzi fics #paige x azzi #pazzi #paige and azzi #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #azzi fudd

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littlebluebird2000 · 1 day ago

Text

Twirling Hearts

pairing: yeon si-eun x reader (female reader)

rating: 18+

genre: romance, smut

warnings: overprotective sieun, school bullying, discussion about food and weight, violence, harassment, eventual smut, mature language, sexual harassment, slow-burn, jealousy, baku always being at the scene of the crime…

summary: Who would've thought that a ballerina and the school's most feared nerd would complete each other so well? Being the new student was never easy—especially not when you were the only girl transferring into an all-boys school. To make matters worse, Eunjang High had a reputation for having its fair share of troublemakers. Some of the rumors were enough to make anyone second-guess stepping through those front gates.

author's note: the lack of fanfic dedicated to sieun is, in my opinion, completely unacceptable. I had to come back from hiatus for him. I’m warning y’all, it’s a long one. there’s a part 2 coming soon, maybe a part 3 if this goes well. please note that English isn’t my first language, so there might be some mistakes here and there. i hope you will enjoy, and if you do, please leave a comment <3

word count: 8k+ ( I know… I went overboard )

Part : 1 , 2

Being the new student was never easy—especially not when you were the only girl transferring into an all-boys school. To make matters worse, Eunjang High had a reputation for having its fair share of troublemakers. Some of the rumors were enough to make anyone second-guess stepping through those front gates.

Your family had helped set up an apartment not too far from the academy and Eunjang High. A single bus route connected both places, making the commute manageable with your tight schedule. Originally from Busan, you welcomed the distance that Seoul offered. Being hours away from your parents gave you a kind of peace you hadn’t realized you needed until it now.

Back home, your father placed suffocating academic pressure on your shoulders, while your mother lived vicariously through your ballet career, projecting her own lost dream of becoming a prima ballerina onto you. Here, in this new city, you could finally breathe a little easier.

To balance both ballet and school, you needed a flexible academic setup. Thankfully, Eunjang High offered a unique mix of online and on-campus classes. A lot of the students there were repeating years or following unconventional tracks, which made the school more lenient with scheduling. It was one of the only reasons why they bent the rules to admit you, despite the school typically being reserved for boys. They needed to fill seats. You needed a compromise.

Although your father wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of you attending a school like Eunjang, there weren’t many better options. This compromise—the odd, messy arrangement—was the only way both your parents could get a piece of what they wanted. As long as you kept your grades up at this so-called “lousy” school and continued to perform well in the online program, your father was willing to compromise to please your mother.

Each weekday followed a strict routine. Mornings were reserved for intensive ballet practice at the academy. From there, you’d head straight to Eunjang High for your campus courses: English, mathematics, social studies, and science. After that, it was back to the academy for evening classes. Your online studies could be completed anytime throughout the week, as long as you met the deadlines. The weekends were yours, thankfully.

Today was the day everything would change.

To say you were nervous would’ve been an understatement. Your stomach was in knots, your thoughts racing faster than your footsteps on the way to the academy. There was a strange heaviness in the air, like something big was about to unfold.

Later, you’d look back and realize—you had every reason to feel that way.

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The morning had started better than expected.

You were pleasantly surprised by the atmosphere at the ballet academy. Though the classes were clearly going to be grueling and demanding, there was something deeply motivating about the environment. It felt purposeful. Focused. The kind of place where real growth could happen.

Your instructor, Mrs. Kim, was a stern older woman with a sharp gaze and impeccable posture—clearly someone who had spent her life perfecting her craft. She wasn’t warm, exactly, and you didn’t expect her to be. But her corrections were precise and never cruel. She was strict, yes, but not out of ego or power—she pushed for improvement… And that made all the difference.

The other dancers were older than you by a few years, likely in their early twenties, and carried themselves with the kind of quiet confidence that comes with experience. They greeted you politely, if a little stiffly, introducing themselves one by one before falling back into an easy rhythm of conversation that didn’t quite include you.

You didn’t take it personally. They weren’t being unkind or intentionally cold. It was just the natural awkwardness that came with a new arrival—especially one as young as you, dropped suddenly into their already well-formed circle. They didn’t know you yet. That would come with time.

At least they were civil. That alone was a relief.

Back at your previous academy, competition had turned the other girls into enemies. Whispers behind backs, sabotaged shoes, icy glares in the mirrors—it was a toxic place that made you question your love for dance. But here? The air felt different. More mature. Healthier. Safer.

You could handle being the outsider for a little while longer, as long as respect remained part of the equation.

And so, when class ended and you washed up quickly, put on your uniform, and gathered your things to head to your first afternoon at Eunjang High, your nerves buzzed with a strange blend of anxiety and cautious hope.

You had survived the first half of your day.

The next part, however—was still entirely unknown

As soon as your feet hit the pavement, a chill ran up your bare legs. The bus doors closed behind you, and you stood there for a second, staring up at the towering gray building of Eunjang High School. It honestly looked more like a prison than a school, with its cracked concrete walls and rusted metal gates. You hugged your blazer tighter around yourself.

You could still hear your father’s voice from last night’s call echoing in your head: “Stay out of trouble. Don’t talk to anyone unless absolutely necessary. These boys aren’t your friends.”

You wanted to believe he was just being dramatic… but as you stepped through the gates and onto campus, you weren’t so sure.

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Chaos greeted you like an old friend

Boys were everywhere—some shouting, others chasing each other through the halls like it was recess, not school hours. Someone threw a water bottle across the courtyard. Another boy ducked just in time to avoid a roll of toilet paper flying through the air. You grimaced at the sight.

You felt your breath hitch. This was going to be hell.

A quiet voice at your side made you turn. “This way.” The speaker was a boy, small with thick glasses framing his face. He didn’t meet your eyes as he spoke, just kept walking, hands clutched to his backpack straps.

“I’m Seo Juntae,” he added shyly. “We’re in the same class—1-5.” You nodded, falling in step beside him, grateful for the guide. At least one person here seemed sane.

“The teacher should be waiting already,” Juntae mumbled as you reached the classroom door. “You’ll be fine, probably.” He gave a nervous little smile and pushed the door open.

Probably?

Inside, it wasn’t much better.

The classroom buzzed with noise. Some students were arguing over who’d stolen whose eraser, while others leaned out of the windows shouting at someone below. A few boys sat on desks instead of chairs, and more than weren’t wearing their uniform properly.

You felt every gaze turn your way as you stepped in.

A few low whistles rang out from the back. Someone muttered something you didn’t catch, followed by a burst of laughter. You fought the urge to turn and leave.

“Quiet down,” the teacher said firmly, standing up from his desk. He was tall and slightly hunched. “This is our new student. I expect you all to treat her with respect.”

He smiled at me. “Please introduce yourself to your classmates.” Swallowing your nerves, you turned fully, facing the other students.

“Hello, my name is (Y/N). It’s nice to meet you all. Please take good care of me.” You said, bowing politely.

The room fell quiet for a moment, then:

“I’ll take real good care of you, if you let me.” Someone said from the back. A few more snickers followed. You flushed but stayed silent, keeping your face blank. You couldn’t say that you didn’t expect that.

“Enough.” The teacher snapped, glaring in the offender’s direction. “Y/N, you can sit next to Yeon Sieun—he’s by the window. Put your bag in the lockers in the back.”

You made your way down the aisle, trying not to meet any of the stares that followed you. The boy you were assigned to sit next to didn’t acknowledge your presence, not even a glance as you slid into the chair beside him.

As you settled into your seat, you quickly adjusted your skirt, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You focused your gaze on the teacher.

You had to remind yourself that this wasn’t about making friends. Your ballet and your studies were your priorities. Everything else was secondary.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to focus on the lesson. The teacher, Mr. Yoon, was talking about social studies—something about historical figures and their influence on modern society. The words blurred together as you tried to push your thoughts aside, diving into your notes with the intensity you’d developed over the years.

It wasn’t easy. The whispers around you, the occasional chuckle, the glances—there was no escaping it. You heard the boys behind you muttering and laughing quietly, but you couldn’t make out the words. You didn’t want to.

The boy next to you, however, remained silent. Yeon Sieun hadn’t spoken a word since you sat down. He acted as if he didn’t care about you at all, like you hadn’t entered the room. You were weirdly grateful for that. The less attention you could get here, the better.

Social studies were now done. Mathematics were next. You sat quietly, shoulders tense, eyes fixed on the chalkboard as you copied the teacher’s writing. You were trying your best to blend in—head down, mouth shut. Only three classes to go. Just three. You could survive this.

You glanced at the board again, where a string of complicated equations still glared down at you. Math had never been your strong suit. You were going to have to study harder than ever to keep up.

A tap on your shoulder made your heart skip.

You turned slowly, wary.

“Hey,” said a boy with a crooked smile, his tie hanging loose and shirt stained at the collar. “Got another pencil? Mine broke.”

Your stomach twisted. Something about his tone made your skin crawl. Still, you managed to nodded and offered him what you hoped was a polite smile. You pulled a pencil from your case, and handed it to him. “Keep it.”

You turned back around before he could say anything, silently praying that would be the end of it.

It wasn’t.

Another tap. You inhaled sharply through your nose, willing yourself not to react. You turned.

“Got an eraser?”

Without mentioning that there was one attached to the end of the pencil, you just grabbed your spare eraser and dropped it on his desk without looking at him.

Surely, that would be enough.

But you felt it again. A third tap.

Annoyed now, you spun halfway toward him. “What?”

He grinned, leaning forward. “Can I get your number too?”

A burst of laughter came from behind him. His friends fist-bumped like they’d just witnessed something brilliant.

You blinked, the question hitting like a slap. Your lips parted, but no words came. You just turned back toward the front of the classroom, disgust curling in your chest.

Pig.

The snickering didn’t stop. The teacher, annoyed at the growing noise, shushed them harshly.

You stared at the board, eyes blurry with shame and frustration. You should’ve known. Of course he didn’t want a pencil… You clenched your jaw and forced yourself to keep writing.

When the bell rang for lunch, the teacher dismissed the class and left before most students were out of their seats. You packed slowly, hoping the room would clear before you had to walk through it. As you reached for your last book, a shadow fell over your desk.

You could read his name tag now.

Hyoman.

He loomed close, too close. “So,” he said, voice low and smug. “You’re gonna give me your number or what?”

You looked up. His posture reeked of arrogance, and the heavy scent of sweat made your nose twitch. You pushed your chair back instinctively, putting space between you. “I don’t give out my number,” you said firmly but politely, smoothing your skirt and standing.

A chorus of oohs erupted from his friends and Hyoman’s grin vanished.

He stepped closer, and something in his eyes changed—gone was the teasing gleam. In its place was something colder. More entitled.

“You’re gonna give it to me though,” he said, voice sharp. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you.”

Your pulse spiked. Hands clammy, you forced a calm expression. “I really can’t. I’m sorry.” You lowered your eyes, trying not to provoke him further. “Please, excuse me.”

You tried to step around him, but he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you back, hard.

You gasped, pain flaring at your scalp. Your back hit his chest and you froze, heart slamming against your ribs.

“Listen here, bitch,” he snarled, his mouth near your ear, breath hot and sour. “You don’t get to say no to me. I was nice. Now you give me your number, or I’ll take it out on you in ways you won’t like.”

Still frozen in shock, your breath was caught somewhere in your throat. You were just about to cave—just about to say something to make it stop—when a chair scraped loudly against the floor. The sharp squeal cut through the chaos like a blade.

“Don’t cross the line.”

The voice was quiet. Almost too quiet, but something about it made every sound in the room stop.

No yelling. No rage.

Just a thread of quiet authority that made the air go still.

You didn’t dare turn to look, still locked in Hyoman’s grip. But the tension around you shifted.

“Fuck off, Yeon Sieun,” Hyoman spat. But his voice faltered at the end, cracking under pressure. Still, he yanked harder on your hair, and you let out a strangled sound as fresh pain bloomed across your scalp. “It’s none of your business. Stay out of it.”

A pause.

Then, calmly, Sieun said, “This is your only warning.”

Click.

The sound was soft, like a pen snapping into place.

Strangely, the sound alone was enough to make Hyoman freeze behind you. His entire body stiffened like a wire pulled too tight.

No one laughed. No one moved.

Click.

Again. That sharp, quiet snap.

Someone whispered, “Shit” under their breath.

And suddenly, Hyoman let go of your hair. Just like that. He shoved you away roughly as if to save face, but there was fear flickering behind his eyes now. You stumbled forward, catching yourself on the edge of a desk, one hand going to your aching scalp. “I was just playing,” he muttered, voice small and strained. His hands lifted in mock surrender, but it was all performance now.

He walked away quickly, dragging his pride behind him as his friends trailed after him.

Blinking away tears, you now took the chance to look at the student who had came to your help.

Yeon Sieun stood there like he hadn’t moved at all. His uniform hung a bit too loose on his frame. His dark hair fell into his eyes, shadowing the expressionless mask he wore.

But it was his eyes that caught your attention.

Sad. Hollow. Tired.

Not the kind of tired from a long day, but the kind carved from sleepless nights and things too heavy for someone his age to carry. He looked distant, detached—like he wasn’t really here at all. The pen in his hand was held like a weapon.

With a slow, almost mechanical motion, he slid the pen into the inside pocket of his blazer. Without sparring you a glance, he turned, walking toward the door as if nothing had happened.

“Thank you.” You said before he left completely, your voice unsteady, barely more than a whisper. “Thank you, Yeon Sieun.”

He paused. Without a word, he turned slightly, just enough to acknowledge you with a sharp nod, then left.

And that’s how everything began.

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Most of your days were now spent going to ballet classes and hanging out with Sieun and his friends whenever you weren’t busy with your online classes. You would eat regularly with him, Juntae, Bakua, and Gotak. Even though Sieun didn’t talk much, you appreciated his calm presence, especially since the others could be a bit … much. Not Juntae though. He was a sweetheart.

It only took a few days for you to feel like you fit in with the group. While your father might disapprove of your new found friends, these guys had shown time and time again that they had your back in a way that none of your previous 'friends' had.

Five months had passed since your arrival at Eunjang High School, and things were going better now. Your ballet classes were going smoothly, you were doing well in your online classes, and now that you were close with Baku and his friends, no one dared to bother you. Plus, they were all terrified of Sieun and his pen. After hearing the stories from Gotak, you couldn’t say you didn’t blame them.

For the school classes, everything was fine, except for mathematics, which wasn’t surprising. You were very thankful that Sieun was taking some of his time to help you study. More than once, you would found yourself staring at him instead of listening to his explanation.

He was rough around the edges at first, but once you really started to know him, it was clear that he hid a lot of what he really felt.

It felt like a small victory every time you managed to pull even the faintest smile from him. You were sure you'd seen it twice—once for real, and once when the corner of his lips twitched like it wanted to. It was rare, fleeting… but beautiful. Seeing even a glimpse of happiness on his face—however brief—felt like sunlight breaking through clouds.

There was a quiet heaviness that always clung to him, a kind of sadness that never quite left his eyes. You remembered the night he opened up—told me about his old friends and how everything fell apart. You knew he hadn’t told you everything, only the outline of it, the parts he could bear to say out loud.

Sieun didn’t open up easily, and you didn’t push him. But even from that glimpse, you could see how deeply the guilt had rooted itself in him. You wished you could take some of that weight off his shoulders. Maybe if enough people kept on reminding him that it wasn’t his fault, he might start to believe it too. Someday.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You met up with Baku and Gotak at your usual spot near a quiet corner shop downtown. The air had a sharp bite to it, the kind that crept under your clothes and settled in your bones. The sky was a dull, steely gray, and the wind whipped through the streets, rustling the fallen leaves that hadn’t yet been swept away. The chill in the air was a clear sign that winter was closing in fast.

You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, trying to trap in whatever warmth you had left. “I hate the cold,” You mumbled, already shivering as your breath came out in faint, misty clouds.

Baku laughed. “I can warm you up if you want to.” He teased, dancing towards me like a complete fool.

“Gross! Get away from me, you big brute!” You halfheartedly exclaimed, giggling a little as you pushed him away.

“What’s going on?” a voice said behind you.

You turned quickly, the smile still lingering on your face—until you saw Sieun standing there beside Juntae, his expression unreadable but eyes fixed on us. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—confusion, maybe, or something else you couldn’t quite name. You stepped to the side a little bit, creating a circle with everyone.

Gotak shrugged. “Nothing special. Just Y/N breaking Baku’s heart again.”

Baku whipped invisible tears from his eyes. “If this goes on, I might actually start to think that you aren’t interested in me, Y/N. Stop pushing me away!”

You only hit his arm, a smile of amusement still tugging on your lips. “You’re stupid.”

Sieun suddenly coughed and adjusted his hoodie on himself. You looked at him then, but he avoided your gaze, looking to the side with a bored expression on his face.

Juntae, bless him, stepped in before things got awkward. “Does anyone want anything in the store?” He asked pulling at the fogged-up lenses of his glasses with one hand.

“No, thank you.” You declined politely, looking down. You were suppose to follow a certain diet for ballet, and you were already toeing the line with the calories you’d allowed yourself for the week. Thankfully, the food at the cafeteria had healthy versions. The real issue was back at your apartment were snacks were always within reach and boredom made them way too tempting. You were trying hard to get it under control lately. “I’ll wait here.”

“Can you bring me some shrimp crackers?” Pleaded Baku, bathing his eye lashes dramatically. “I’ll pay next time!”

Juntae nodded, a small smile on his lips as he entered the shop. “I don’t know what I want. I’ll go have a look.” Said Gotak, entering as well.

Sieun stood next the entrance of the shop. For a split second, he looked straight at you. His eyes, dark and tired, held yours for a few seconds longer than you expected. Your breath caught a little, but then he glanced over my shoulder at something—or someone—and the moment broke. Without a word, he turned and stepped into the shop after the others two.

The cold wind nipped at your face, but it wasn’t what made you shiver. You stood there, arms wrapped tightly around your body, watching the door slowly swing shut behind him.

You turned back towards Baku, who looked like he was seconds away from bursting into laughter.

“What is it now?” You asked, already dreading his answer.

“I’m just wondering if I should ask him if he’s carrying a pen with him tonight.”

You recoiled, looking confused. “What? Why would you ask him that?” Your voice rose in disbelief.

He gave a dramatic shrug, puckering his lips like he was trying to look thoughtful. “Oh, I don’t know? Maybe because he just gave me the look.”

You shoved your hands into your jacket pockets, trying to preserve whatever warmth you had left. “The look? Really?” You rolled your eyes. “What does that even mean?”

Baku grinned, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Come on, Y/N! You know exactly what it means. It’s that thing his eyes do when he’s trying not to lose it. Just for a second, it’s like you get a peek inside his brain. His eyes were practically screaming at me.”

You scoffed, tilting your head to the side. “Yeah? What were they saying then, oh great Eye Whisperer?”

He smacked his lips, pretending to deliberate. “Hmm… I don’t know if I should tell you. It might scare you.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, rolling your eyes again. “Just admit you’re making things up and talking out of your ass.”

He snorted, raising his hands in mock surrender. “All right, all right. You asked for it.” He leaned in dramatically, crouching slightly to meet your gaze. “I think our little Sieun has a big, fat crush on you and he was mentally murdering me with his eyes earlier because he was jealous.”

You stared at him, heart skipping a beat, mouth slightly open until you quickly shut it. “Stop speaking nonsense,” You muttered, shoving him hard in the shoulder. He stumbled back, unfazed, laughing so hard he had to wipe actual tears from his eyes this time.

“It’s not funny, Baku!” You exclaimed, still flustered. “You can’t say things like that.”

He calmed down a little bit. “It’s true though. I’m not lying.” He shivered, pulling his hoodie tighter. “Everyone sees it. He’s not exactly subtle, Y/N. Around you, he… speaks. That’s already saying a lot.” He wiggled his brows at you.

“He speaks to you guys as well, don’t be dramatic.” You looked away, trying to focus on the foggy shop window instead of the chaos Baku had just stirred in your chest. “You’re reading too much into things.” You muttered, but even you didn’t sound convinced.

It was true that over the past months, Sieun and you had gotten a bit closer. It just felt easy talking to him. At first, he’d simply stare blankly at you while you rambled on about your day at the academy. He wouldn’t say much—just the occasional nod as if he were barely listening. He seemed completely unapproachable, like there was some invisible wall around him that you could never quite break through. But slowly, you chipped away at it. By the end of the second month, he actually started listening. He’d sometimes ask questions, offer advice where he could. He even started helping you occasionally with mathematics after you broke down in tears over your mock exam grade.

Since then, even though he still mostly stayed quiet and distant, his presence never left me feeling completely alone. It was strange, but also comforting.

Your cheeks burned now, and it wasn’t from the cold. “Can we drop this, please?” You said as Baku was opening his mouth again.“He doesn’t treat me any different.” You spoke firmly, now too shy to meet Baku’s gaze. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he might see something in your eyes that you weren’t ready to face yet.

Before Baku could say anything, the door to the shop creaked open, and the rest of the group stepped out, carrying bags. Juntae handed Baku a bag of chips, and without missing a beat, Baku ripped it open, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth. He spared you a quick look, his grin still wide. You shifted uneasily, still feeling the weight of his teasing.

“Let’s go everyone.” Called Gotak, already heading towards the karaoke room with a purposeful stride. “Let’s not stay outside longer than we should.”

The walk between the karaoke room and the store was short, but with Sieun walking silently by your side, it felt much longer. The air between you two was thick with unspoken words.

You tried to focus on the sound of Gotak and Baku’s bickering when you felt something press into your hand. Looking down, you saw Sieun offering you a piece of triangle Kimbap along with a hand warmer pouch.

He kept his gaze straight ahead, as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

“Sieun,” You said softly, touched by his quiet gesture. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he replied nonchalantly, not meeting your eyes. He shoved his hands into his pockets, maintaining his usual cool composure.

You decided to put the hand warmer in my pocket, saving it for when you would head back home . “I’ll give this back to you though.” I returned the Kimbap piece in his opened hand. “I can’t eat it.”

He stopped walking, and finally, his eyes met yours. For the first time in a while, you noticed how much better he looked. The dark circles under his eyes weren’t as prominent anymore, thanks to Juntae’s magnesium supplements. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, his expression slightly confused. “It’s the flavor you like, no? Spicy chicken?”

Always so observant.

“Yes, it is,” You replied, walking again and feeling his presence beside you. “But I can’t eat it tonight.”

“Oh.” He furrowed his brows. “Are you not feeling well? You should have said so if that’s the case. We could have rescheduled.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, feeling suddenly uncomfortable talking about this. “It’s not that. I’m pretty sure I’ve gone over my calories for the week. I can’t eat anymore today.”

Before you could take another step, Sieun’s hand landed lightly on your forearm, stopping you in your tracks. The look on his face was incredulous, the biggest expression I’d seen from him in a long time, if ever. It was almost enough to make you laugh.

“You can’t be serious right now, Y/N.” He said, his voice low and almost… protective?

“Sieun,” You sighed, exasperated. “I’m not starving myself. Calm down. I’m just counting my calories to stay on track.” You suddenly felt a little uneasy , like you were exposing too much. “You know I’m a ballerina. It comes with the hobby.”

He only blinked. “I understand that, but a single piece of Kimbap won’t make much of a difference anyways. If your body feels hungry, you should eat. Everything is good in moderation.” He handed you back the black triangle. “Please.”

Reluctantly, you took the food and put in inside of my pocket. “You win.” You rolled your eyes, trying to act as if you didn’t care, but deep down you were touched by his concern. He was always acting so cold, but he was warm-hearted. “ I’ll eat it at the karaoke.”

Your heart felt strangely lighter now, though you still couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was the simple act of him caring, even in the smallest way. You smiled to yourself.

“What are you guys talking about?” Ahead of us, Baksu had also stopped his walk and had turned around to watch us. His eyes were sparkling with amusement and you hoped that he would keep his mouth shut.

Without responding to his question, Sieun and you both continued walking, side by side, your steps quiet as you neared the karaoke building.

Once you were close enough, Baku threw his arm around Sieun’s shoulders, pulling him close in a playful manner. He was grinning like a cat who had just found a mouse. You went ahead of them to enter the establishment, not wanting to hear the nonsense that was sure to come out of his mouth. You climbed the stairs rapidly, eager to join your other two friends and escape the awkwardness.

“So, I don’t get any of your precious Kimbap?” Baku teased in Sieun’s ear, his voice light, but with that edge of knowing exactly how to push Sieun’s buttons. “I thought we were friends, man. You’re gonna make me beg for it?”

Sieun stiffened, but only for a second. He didn’t answer, his face completely blank of emotion. He on gave a single glare as he shrugged Baku’s arms off with a slow, effortless motion.

“Don’t touch me,” he said flatly.

Only Baku could see the faintest flush spreading across Sieun’s neck.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The triangle Kimbap was indeed delicious. You ate it in three single bites. While Juntae, Baku, and Gotak were singing their hearts out, Sieun and you were relaxing in the seats behind, content with watching. The room was dim, lit by rotating colored lights that swept across the walls in soft pulses—pink, blue, green—giving the whole place a dreamy glow. The screen was huge, displaying lyrics in bold font, while a score in the corner judged every note. You giggled at Gotak’s poor attempt at the Wonder Girls choreographer for the song “Tell Me”. His shoulders bounced like jelly, and Baku’s dramatic backup dancing wasn’t helping.

Sieun let out a quiet breath beside me. Not quite a laugh, but close. His arms were crossed, eyes half-lidded in his usual indifferent way, but you caught the subtle curve at the corner of his lips.

“You know,” You whispered, leaning a little closer, “You almost smiled just now.”

He glanced at you, and for a second, our eyes locked in the flickering lights. His expression was unreadable, but not cold. Just… careful.

“I didn’t,” he said softly.

“You did.”

He looked away, pretending to be more interested in the screen than you. “You’re imagining things.”

You giggled softly at him, eyes sparkling.

You let the silence hang for a while, watching the others collapse in laughter as Juntae hit a tragically off-key note and the karaoke machine scored him a humiliating 58. Your shoulder brushed lightly against Sieun’s, and you didn’t move away.

Neither did he.

For a long moment, you just sat there, side by side in the dim, glittering room, the noise around you fading into the background. The others were loud, off-key, ridiculous—and perfect. But here, in the stillness between songs, with the soft lights brushing his cheek and his presence warm beside you, something delicate hung in the air.

A feeling of melancholy suddenly came over you. You hadn’t felt this kind of friendship, ever. You never felt understood. Not at home. Not at school or at the academy… But here, with your friends… You had found your people.

Beside you, you felt Sieun shifted and you look over to see him already staring at you. His eyes… you could get lost in them. You cleared your throat, leaning slightly to make sure he heard over the loud music. “Are you alright?”

He nodded. “What about you? You seemed somewhere else.”

You shrugged, taking a deep breath in. “It’s nothing. I’m just being a child.” You took a sip of water.

Sieun was silent for a while. He just kept looking at you, quiet, unblinking—like you were something worth paying attention to. It made your heart beat faster

“You can tell me, if you want. I’m the least likely in this room to go around telling everybody.” He finally said, shrugging his shoulders.

A small delicate laugh escaped you, and your imagination could have fooled you into seeing a softness entering Sieun’s eyes. You looked down suddenly embarrassed.

“I was just being sappy.” You muttered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Letting out a deep breath, you finally let the words spill—the ones you’d been holding in for far too long.

“I’ve never really had friends like you guys before.” You said quietly, eyes fixed on the screen ahead. “It’s… kind of a new feeling. Being around people who don’t just tolerate me but actually enjoy having me around. It’s nice.”

You bit your lip, hesitant but too far in to stop now. “With my parents, I always have to be this perfect version of myself. The one that follows every rule, never talks back, never messes up. It's exhausting. I feel like I’m always performing for them. But here… I can actually make my own choices. I get to be me—no filter, no pretending.”

Your gaze drifted from your lap toward the others now, to Baku laughing about something with Gotak, Juntae nudging him with a bag of snacks in hand. “It’s the first time I don’t feel like I have to shrink myself just to fit in. It’s a relief not to always be worrying whether I’m too much or not enough.”

You hadn’t noticed the sting in your eyes until a tear slid down your cheek, then another. Startled, you wiped at them quickly, hoping Sieun hadn’t noticed. Your voice came out a little bit shaky, rushed. “Sorry. Told you I was being a child.”

Sieun didn’t respond right away. You expected silence—maybe one of his usual non-answers—but when you looked back at him, he was still watching. There was no judgment in his expression, no awkwardness. Just… stillness.

And his eyes.

They held so much sadness, so much depth, like the ocean. You stared too long. Long enough to forget what you had just said. Long enough to forget we were in a room filled with singing and ridiculous dancing. All you could see were those ocean eyes.

“I know that feeling,” he said at last, voice low. “Being around people, but still feeling alone.”

Your throat tightened. “It’s exhausting,” You whispered.

Sieun gave the tiniest nod. The glow from the karaoke lights painted faint purples and pink across his skin, and for a moment, you thought he looked almost unreal. His hair fell slightly into his eyes, and he didn’t bother fixing it.

He was pretty. So damn pretty.

“Do you ever feel like… no one really sees you?” You asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Sieun turned his gaze away briefly, as if the weight of the question was too much to meet head-on. Then, with the softest voice you’d ever heard from him, he said, “All the time.”

You reached over without thinking and lightly touched his sleeve. “I see you.” You said.

His eyes flicked back to mine—just a flicker—and something unreadable passed through them. Not quite surprise. Not quite disbelief. Maybe both. But underneath it, there was something tender. Shy. His lips parted like he might say something, but then Baku’s voice echoed through one of the microphones.

“Lovebirds in the back! You’re making us single people look bad!”

You jumped, pulling your hand away from Sieun’s arm like you’d been caught doing something forbidden. Heat bloomed across your face.

You were about to protest, but Sieun, for once, beat you to it. “Shut up, Baku,” he said, still calm but with a rare hint of embarrassment. His ears had gone red.

Baku only snorted. “Touchy!”

Juntae frowned between bites of leftover chips. “What did I miss? What happened.” Gotak blinked, eyes darting between Sieun and you.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, and Baku seemed to suddenly have some sympathy for you.

“You didn’t miss anything.” He said to both Gotak and Juntae. “False alarm. Let’s not make it weird.”

Without any more explanation, Baku marched forward and quickly cleaned up the trash left on the table in front of Sieun and you. The former was still glaring at him.

Noticeably, Baku made sure to take Gotak’s leftover ramen along with his chopsticks.

“I’m not risking my life tonight.” He whispered to you two, but mostly to Sieun with a wink.

Baku turned back around, snickering to himself. He gave Juntae’s shoulder a playful shake, hand already reaching for his bag of chips. “Back to the important stuff—karaoke and salty junk food.”

Gotak and Juntae still looked mildly suspicious, but Baku had already grabbed a mic and queued up the next song, dramatically clearing his throat.

With a resigned shrug, they both let it go, and soon the room was full of singing and laughter again—as if nothing strange had happened at all.

When Sieun’s knee brushed yours again, you didn’t move away.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The group was still lingering outside the karaoke building, debating whether to get late-night ramen or just call it a night. Baku, as always, was still hungry.

“I’ll be right back,” You said quietly, pulling away from the circle. “I need the restroom.”

Juntae gestured vaguely. “There’s one beside the café next street—they let us use it last time.” You nodded.

“Don’t get murdered,” Baku called after you, half-joking.

“I’ll try not to,” You muttered with a laugh.

The city was quieter now, the glow of signs reflecting off the pavement. You turned down the narrow path between the karaoke place and the café, leading to the next street. You quickly head for the door with the bathroom sign.

That’s when you heard it.

“Well, well. Didn’t expect to see you here alone.”

You froze.

That voice—it sent a ripple of nausea straight through you. Slowly, you turned.

It was him. Hyoman.

From school.

He was leaning against the wall like the world owed him something. “I heard you were into ballet.” He said, looking me up and down. “Guess that means starving yourself and hanging out with losers, huh?”

You clenched your jaw. “Leave me alone, Hyoman.”

He stepped closer, not listening. “Or what? You’ll twirl away from me?”

His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. “You act all quiet and high-and-mighty, but I know what girls like you are really like. You think you’re special. But you’re just fake.”

“Let go of me” You snapped, trying to pull back, fear creeping in.

He didn’t.

A smirk curled at his lips. “You still pretending to be all graceful and perfect?” he sneered, stepping closer. “Still playing the innocent card, huh?” Your eyes filled with tears, and panicked grounded you in place.

“You think just because you hang out with Baku, you’re safe now?” His eyes raked over you repeatedly, colder this time. “I bet under all that discipline, you’re just waiting for someone to mess you up a little. Isn’t that what you dancers want?” My throat tightened again.

“Let go of me,” You said softly, your voice trembling, breath caught in your chest. “Please.”

He leaned in, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. “C’mon, just a little fun. Don’t act like you’re too good for it.”

And then, like lightning—

Sieun.

He grabbed Hyoman arm and yanked him back with so much force that the boy stumbled and hit the wall behind him with a grunt. For a moment, Hyoman looked stunned.

“She said to let go.” Sieun said. His voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t have to be. It was sharp. Direct. Steady in a way that made the hair on your arms rise.

Hyoman pushed off the wall, sneering. He stumbled a little bit, and you suspected that it wasn’t just because of the alcohol. “What, you gonna fight me? You’re just some freak who never talks. You think being quiet makes you scary?”

Sieun stepped forward without hesitation and shoved him again—harder this time. “Try touching her again,” he said, “and I swear I won’t just push you.”

Sieun’s eyes burned with something raw. Not anger, exactly. Something more dangerous..

Hyoman backed off, scowling. “You’re both crazy,” he muttered, spitting to the side before stalking away.

The silence he left behind felt suffocating.

You stood frozen, staring at Sieun. Your chest was still tight, adrenaline spiking through you.

He was breathing heavily. The fury slipped from his face when he saw your face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, stepping closer.

You nodded, but it was a lie. The moment you met his eyes—soft now, worried—you cracked.

“No.” You whispered.

He didn’t hesitate.

Sieun stepped forward and pulled you into him, his arms wrapping around you like it was the most natural thing in the world. He held you—not too tight, just enough to remind you that you weren’t alone.

And you broke.

The tears came fast. Hot, angry sobs that you couldn’t hold back any longer. You clutched his hoodie in your fists and buried your face against his chest. You couldn’t stop shaking.

Sieun didn’t say anything. He just stood there, solid and quiet, letting you fall apart in his arms. For someone who rarely showed emotion, he held you like he’d done it a hundred times. You melted into his warmth.

That was when you heard footsteps.

“Y/N?” Baku’s voice called, too cheerful at first, until it dropped with concern. “Y/N, what happened?!”

The rest of the group came into view, Juntae and Gotak behind Baku, who stopped mid-step when he saw you in Sieun’s arms.

Gotak blinked. “What the hell…?”

Juntae looked concerned. “Wait, is she crying?”

Baku’s eyes narrowed as he looked around. “What happened, Sieun?”

Sieun didn’t move. He kept holding you, shielding you with his body from the boys’ growing panic. You didn’t lift my head, not yet. You didn’t want them to see you like this.

“She’s okay now,” Sieun said, voice flat but firm. “Someone crossed a line. It’s handled.”

The others were still trying to piece together what had happened, but something in Sieun’s tone, something cold and sharper than they were used to, shut them up.

Baku muttered under his breath, something about looking for whoever did it. But he didn’t press further.

Sieun’s arms didn’t move until your breathing calmed. And even then, he didn’t let go until you gently pulled back, cheeks still damp.

There was no judgement on his face when you backed away.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The walk back to the karaoke room was quiet.

No one asked questions. Not even Baku, who usually couldn’t stay silent if his life depended on it.

Sieun didn’t speak.

He just stood beside you in the quiet night air, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable as always—but there was a tension in his posture, like he was still on edge.

“I think I’ll go home,” You said finally, voice hoarse from crying.

Sieun looked at you, then gave a small nod. “I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know.”

But he came anyway.

The city lights flickered around us as we walked. The only sounds were the occasional passing car and the soft rhythm of our footsteps. You kept your eyes on the ground, the cool breeze brushing against your cheeks, hand warmer between your palm. You didn’t feel like talking, and Sieun didn’t push you to.

Halfway home, you glanced at him from the corner of your eye. His shoulders were slightly hunched, like he was carrying something heavy.

“I’m sorry,” You murmured.

He looked at you, confused. “For what?”

“For ruining the night.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he said, tone even. “Don’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault.” Wind ruffled through his hair.

“I was scared,” You admitted after a while. “Not just in the moment. Scared he wouldn’t go away. Scared no one would come.”

You let out a quiet breath, the words catching on the edge of your hesitation before you finally spoke. “I know you were scared too. But you still stepped in. You chose to protect me.” Sieun didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at you directly—but something in him shifted.

His expression remained unreadable, but his shoulders eased, just slightly, like some invisible weight had loosened its grip. “Thank you,” you said, gently.

There was a pause.

Then, barely above a whisper, Sieun said, “I’ll always protect my friends. No matter what.”

We walked the rest of the way in silence, but it wasn’t the kind that made you feel alone.

When you reached your door, you turned to him and gave a small smile. “Thank you… for everything.”

Sieun stared for a second too long. Then, awkwardly, he nodded, eyes flicking away.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

And before you could step inside, he added—barely above a whisper, “Text me when you’re safe in bed.”

You blinked. “You want me to text you?”

He rubbed his neck, trying to look nonchalant. “I just… want to know you’re okay. That’s all.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile softly.

“Okay”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

That night, you kept my promise and texted him.

[10:42 PM] In bed. Safe.

There was a long pause before his reply came.

[10:47 PM] Okay. Sleep well.

Simple. Distant. But it made you smile anyway.

You curled under the blanket, still feeling the ghost of his arms around you, the way he had pulled you close without hesitation. It stayed with you long after you closed your eyes.

You dreamt of him.

Of Sieun.

Not the quiet, cold version of him the world knew. But the one you saw tonight—the one whose eyes burned when he saw you hurt, whose voice sharpened when he defended you, whose hands didn’t shake when he held you.

In the dream, we were alone again. But it was warmer somehow. Softer.

You stood beneath a streetlight, the city blurred around you. He stepped close—too close—and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered just slightly against your skin, and his eyes… they were locked on mine like I was the only thing that existed.

And then—his hand slid gently to your jaw. His thumb brushed your cheek.

He leaned in.

His breath touched yours.

And just before your lips met, you—

Woke up.

Your eyes snapped open. The room was dark and quiet, the covers twisted around your legs. Your skin felt hot and sticky.

You sat up slowly, pressing your hands to your cheek.

It had been so vivid.

Too vivid.

You groaned quietly and flopped back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

What was wrong with you?

It was just a dream. Just a dream. Just—

But the image of his eyes, the sound of his voice, the way he held you like you were something precious… You pressed your palms against your eyelids. You knew, no matter how hard you tried, you weren’t going to forget it anytime soon.

You were screwed.

211 notes · View notes

jarofstyles · 19 hours ago

Text

Teach Me?

Hello love bugs, we've got a huge one shot here. I see a lot of writing where the guy helps the girl out with inexperience, but I thought I'd like to write something where he's the one asking for help. I had a lot of fun putting this together so I hope you guys like it. I may do more but I have a lot of other stuffed planned but let me know your thoughts!

Check out our Patreon for early access and 260+ exclusive writings!

WC- 12.3k

Warnings- mentions of insecurity, anxiety, oral, soft!Dom H, soft!Dom Y/N, switchy vibes but mostly Dom!H, Y/N pokes fun at him for being nerdy but she loves it,

"Hey..." Harry began casually, wiping his hands on a towel after washing. Her best friend had invited himself over for dinner, which meant he was going to do the dishes. It was an unspoken rule of their friendship. If you invite yourself, you clean up. But seeing as Y/N was the one who cooked nine out of ten times, it had become a normal to see him at her kitchen sink. Her eyes peeked up at him from her phone, giving him a look to continue. "Can I ask you something? It's a kinda...weird request." He scratched the back of his neck nervously, looking at her with an attempt at puppy dog eyes. He wanted something and it made her narrow her eyes.

“I’m not going to the convention with you again, Har. It’s not my scene, I told you. I’ll watch any series of movies until our brains leak out our ears but if I have to sit through panels and Q&As where they ask what the characters favorite food is again I may lose my mind.” She knew it was coming up… but apparently that wasn’t his point. Thank God.

"No! No. Adam is going with me this year. Rude. But besides that…” It made her a lot more curious as to what it could be because he did genuinely look nervous. “It's a weird question, actually." He sat down next to her on the couch, twisting his hands together. "And you can totally say no... but..." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Would you... maybe..." The hesitance had her sitting up a little straighter, raising her brow higher to urge him forward. "God..." He muttered softly, trying to find the words. "You promise not to judge?" He saw her raise an eyebrow. "I mean it. No making fun of me." He watched as she slowly nodded, waiting.

“I make fun of you for a lot of things, but if you’re asking me not to, I won’t. Are you okay?” Y/N asked softly, unused to his behavior. He was usually playful and could take any joke, so it wasn’t exactly like him to ask her not to do it.

"I'm okay." He assured her, but still had the nervous look in his eyes. "It's just... I've recently realized... kinda an embarrassing thing about myself." He shifted uncomfortably, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I don’t think… I don’t think I’m actually making girls finish properly when I hook up with them. At least not every time. And I feel like shit about it.”

That was a surprise to her. Harry had the whole hot and nerdy thing going on, and he pulled plenty. Not that he always attempted or took them up on the offers, but he’d had a few girls he had hooked up with that she knew of. Usually he kept pretty quiet about it, but that didn’t bother her. Y/N had assumed a lot about him because… He did have some big dick energy going on. He had really nice hands too. The idea of him being unskilled in bed didn’t feel like it was right, but she was hearing him out. “What’s making you think this?” She asked curiously. “Did someone say something?”

"No, no one's ever said anything. Not to my face." His face flushed slightly pink as he shifted again, trying to get comfortable. "I just... well. Sometimes I noticed they'd tense up or seem kinda disappointed later. Like they were expecting something else. More? I dunno. And they don’t usually text me again, which is fine and all but I hate thinking I let someone down. It’s embarrassing." He avoided looking at her while he talked, staring at his fidgeting fingers instead. "I don't want to be one of those guys who only thinks about themselves. That’s the last thing I want to do." He trailed off, clearly embarrassed. So unlike him that it made her heart hurt a little bit. Harry was a happy guy and seeing him not like that was like seeing a wet puppy in the street. She had to fix it.

“Well the fact that you even care at all is really good. I know, the bar is on the floor but, unfortunately a lot of men don’t give a shit if we finish or not.” Y/N knew plenty of men- had experienced them herself- that didn’t care if it felt good for her. They wanted a quick nut and go. Harry never seemed to be the type. Honestly, he was very thorough in most things and she’d assumed that would properly bleed over to sex.

“Wanting to be better is half the battle. You don’t have to be embarrassed about it. The first time I sucked someone off I gagged really awfully, the sound made him go soft.” She laughed at her own bad time. “We all start somewhere.”

He laughed softly at her story, feeling a little more at ease knowing he wasn’t the only one. Y/N was far more experienced and open about being a little freak, so it felt better to know even she had some weirder experiences. It wasn’t just him. "Yeah, I can imagine." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Gagging on dick is not the most pleasant experience, is it?" He turned to look at her, his eyes serious again. "But, um, thanks for listening and all that. I just... I want to be good at it. For them, and for myself." He looked down at his hands again, picking at his fingernails nervously. He needed to paint them again so he would stop doing it. His pink polish was chipped. "And that's why I was wondering…” He bit his lip, his heart racing as he tried to work up the nerve to ask his best friend a very personal favor. The most personal you could probably get.

"Would you... would you maybe let me practice on you?” The silence lingered for a moment longer than he was okay with, panicking slightly as he continue. “I promise I'll listen to everything you say, and we can stop anytime you want. We don’t even have to! You can say no, obviously.” The man was babbling as he tried to untwist his tongue. “But I really trust you and I think you'd give me good feedback. Honest feedback." He looked up at her with pleading eyes, his cheeks flushed a darker pink that she hadn’t seen before- all the way up to his ears.

“Me?” That… was not at all what she had expected. To be fair she hadn’t been sure what to expect but that would probably be lower on the list. “You want to… practice eating pussy or something, on me? I just want to make sure I heard you correctly.” Because she sure as hell didn’t know if this was some sort of dream or delusion.

Harry nodded quickly, his ears turning an even deeper shade of red. "Yeah, you. I mean, if you're comfortable with it. I know it's a really fucking weird request and all, I swear I’m not trying to make anything weird with us but... you're my best friend, and I trust you. And I know you'd be honest with me." Y/N was known for being honest even if it wasn’t the most appropriate time to be. He looked at her with those big, hopeful eyes, his bottom lip worried between his teeth. "Please? I promise I'll do everything I can to make it good for you, if you let me. I just really want to get better at this."

It could fuck up the friendship. Y/N knew that, because it was every sort of cliche thing that tells you do not, under any circumstances, hook up with your best friend. But… it had been a while. Harry didn’t ask much of her besides her dinners and to go to some events with him so he wasn’t alone. He listened to her rants and brought her food when she was hungry and didn’t want to go out. He made her bed for her sometimes just because he was near and tidy like that. He swept the kitchen after dinner. He bought tickets to movies and concerts on his card and told her to pay him back whenever she could. He protected her if people acted weird at the rare chance they went out to the bar. Harry was a really fucking good friend, the best she’d ever had.

She also couldn’t lie to herself and say she didn’t think he had a spectacularly pretty mouth and even better hands. They had always been really nice. Soft, long fingers, big palm. The tattoos that trickled down… Fuck. She was going to say yes. Fuck it. “Okay. I guess we can, but I’ve got some rules.”

He blinked, surprised but trying to hide it, his heart racing faster at her surprisingly quick answer. "Rules?" He nodded, leaning forward slightly, completely focused on her words. "Of course. I mean... I'll do anything you say." That came out a bit too smooth, and they both caught the double meaning. He cleared his throat, trying to appear casual and failing miserably. "What are they?" His eyes were fixed on her, his hands folded in his lap to stop them from shaking nervously.

“I mean, I’m being a little dramatic. It’s only a few.” She laughed, leaning back on the couch. “One being we don’t tell anyone. Our friends are already weird about how much time we spend together. Two, you don’t touch me and then another woman. If you find someone else that’s completely fine, but I don’t want her germs and shit on me.” That was not something she liked at all. “If you’re practicing on me, it’s me. I won’t fuck around with other people either, but I don’t fuck with STIs and all that.” It was doubtful he would need to be reminded of that.

“I’m assuming this is going to be a couple times because the way you get good at stuff is practicing. I won’t complain if I get a few orgasms out of this.” She shrugged as if this was a normal thing to be discussing. Best friends having sex. “But the last one is you don’t make things weird after you’re all good with your skills. Don’t make stuff weird.”

"Those are..." He cleared his throat, trying to process everything she had just said. "Those are actually very reasonable rules." He nodded, making sure to emphasize each point so she know he heard her loud and clear. "One: Not telling our friends is smart. Two: Of course, no cheating. We aren’t dating but I’m a one woman type of man. My mother raised me better than that. You know she would kill me." He managed a small smile. "Three: I, uh, plan on practicing. A lot, if you let me." His eyes lingered just a moment too long on her lips, then quickly flicked away.

“Good.” Harry was efficient in most things. It’s exactly why she understood how much it probably bothered the hell out of him to not really be able to get a woman off, or so he thinks. She was just being a good friend, right? helping him out. “So walk me through what you usually do when you bring someone home. We start there. I can tell you if something you’re doing is weird.”

He swallowed nervously, trying to collect his thoughts as he shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "Well, uh... usually I'd start by kissing them, ya know? Get them a little worked up before moving down." He gestured vaguely with his hands, as if physically trailing kisses down an imaginary body. "Then I'd kinda... kiss around the area, maybe use my fingers first to make sure they're wet and all..." He trailed off, wincing as he realized how clinical it sounded when he said it out loud.

“That sounds decent, but kind of like a routine.” Harry was like that, she knew, but sex wasn’t. “Not all women are the same, though. We’re all different. You don’t experiment at all to see where her sensitive spots are? Do you keep kissing to the lips and her cunt?” The question was blunt, but she usually was.

"Well... No, actually. I kinda just do the same thing every time." He ran a hand through his hair nervously, realizing how basic that sounded compared to how she spoke about sex. "And yeah, I guess I do stop kissing once I get down there. Why?" He was listening intently, genuinely curious about her approach. For all his perceived experience with women, he was suddenly feeling very inexperienced in this one area. Something about the way she talked about sex was... different. Confident, like it was no big deal.

“Because women are sensual creatures, Harry. Sure, we have similar biological things that happen but the way we get horny is with our minds. Teasing a little. Dirty talk, if you’re good at it, ease into it. Kissing places that aren’t just the obvious.” Shifting to face him, she grabbed one of his hands and put it on her shoulder. He was definitely nervous. It was a little cute. “I’ll give you a cheat sheet for me. I really like to be kissed under my ear, over my throat. Sometimes a lick or a suck. A bite, if I’m in the mood. I like to be kissed over my stomach, tops of my breasts, inner thighs, hips. They aren’t necessarily obvious, but the exploration is nice.”

Taking his hand, she moved it to her neck and then dragged it down past her tits, down her stomach to the waistband of her joggers. “You can have a general path, but you need to be comfortable deviating from it when that’s what she responds to.”

"Fuck..." The curse slipped out quietly as his breath caught, noticing how comfortable she was with his hand on her body. His fingers lingered at her waistband, acutely aware of the sensitive skin just inches beneath. "I never really thought about it like that. I always just went straight for the pussy." He cleared his throat, realizing how crude that sounded coming out loud. "I mean..." She chuckled at his flustered state, finding it endearing. "So you're saying I should take my time? Like, really tease her out?" He moved his hand slightly, fingertips brushing the bare skin of her lower abdomen just beneath her shirt hem. "Kiss other places, see what makes her squirm?"

His gaze flickered down to where his hand rested, then back up to meet her eyes. There was a new spark of understanding there, like pieces clicking into place. "And if I find somewhere she likes? I should... explore that?"

“Yeah.” Her stomach had jumped as he moved his hand but didn’t say anything about it. “Every person is different. I’m sure you have places you like to be touched that people haven’t tried yet either. Being in tune with your body and hers, being able to read the cues that’s what could be your strength.” It was something a lot of men didn’t bother to take into consideration.

"Like, if she makes a certain noise or tenses up?" He was genuinely intrigued now, his mind racing with possibilities. "What if she pulls my hair or digs her nails into my back?" He shifted his hand lower, fingers splaying out on her stomach curiously. "Does that mean she likes it?" He was so focused on the hypotheticals that he almost missed the way his hand resting on her stomach made her stomach muscles twitch slightly beneath his palm.

“Yes, exactly that. Sometimes you’ll be able to feel her pulse if you’re holding her wrist, or.. Well, if you’ve got your hand around her throat. We’ll talk about proper choking another day, but you can see if her pulse jumps from that.” His hands were perfect for that, honestly, and she shouldn’t let her mind wander. Nope. “The noises she makes, if she pulls you further in, bucks her hips, those are all good signs. Not everyone is extremely vocal, but checking in to make sure she likes it, if she wants you to give more, it can help.

"Checking in?" He repeated, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he tried to wrap his head around the idea. "You mean like... asking her if she likes it?" He shifted his hand lower still, fingertips brushing the hem of her joggers. "Like, 'is this okay?' Or 'do you like this?'" He could see how that might be helpful, especially with quieter partners. "But wouldn't that ruin the moment?" He looked up at her, genuinely curious and seeking approval.

“You don’t have to ask in such a sterile way. You can just say something like ‘does that feel good?’ or ‘that’s nice, baby?’ and see her response. You’ve got a nice voice, Har. Use it.” She gave him the compliment easily. He did need a bit of confidence boosting, that much she could already tell. “Checking in shouldn’t ruin the moment. It’s safe, it’s a sign of a good partner. You’ll figure out how to check in in a less… abrupt way.”

"Right... fuck me." He muttered under his breath, actually feeling slightly embarrassed about how little thought he'd put into this before. "I've been a clueless fuck, haven't I?" He sighed, running his fingers along her waistband more deliberately now, testing how she responded. His heart stuttered slightly when she complimented his voice."So like..." He traced patterns on her lower stomach with his fingertips, almost unconsciously. “Feels good?” Testing out the way she had suggested.

Y/N swallowed, feeling a bit of a shift. He had seemed to be having a good time touching her stomach, the light tracing on her skin making her heat up a little bit. She wasn’t blind- Harry had most definitely gotten hotter over the years, and he was just attractive in general. Though she hadn’t allowed herself to look at him as anything but the quirky best friend he was, getting to see a different side of him was something she was intrigued by.

“Mhm.” She tilted her head slightly to the side. “See? It doesn’t have to be straight into it. Just touches like that can get a girl wet.” It was starting to get to her, weirdly enough. “Tell me about kissing. How do you usually start it?”

"Kissing..." He trailed off, his mind briefly distracted by the way her skin felt beneath his fingers. "Uh... well. I usually start with a simple peck, just to see if they're into it." His other hand came up to gently tilt her chin, exposing her neck to him. "If they seem like I have the go ahead, I'll press my lips to theirs more firmly- it’s kinda hard to explain with words." Being a little bold, he let his thumb brush over her bottom lip absently as he spoke, his gaze fixed on her mouth.

“Well if you’re going to eat me out, I don’t see why you can’t just show me.” Kissing Harry had not been something she had anticipated actually doing, really ever, but she can’t say she hadn’t thought about it. The man had an incredible mouth. Soft looking lips, deep pink, the cute little birthmark, all of it was appealing- it was just that it wasn't a possibility for her prior. “Show me how you do it with them.”

His thumb brushed her bottom lip again, his breath hitching slightly at the idea of kissing her. It was just an exercise, he reminded himself firmly. This was just a dry run, to help him figure out his technique. But as he slowly leaned in, his heart rate picked up, eyes flicking between her lips and onto her eyes. "Like... this." He whispered hoarsely, sliding his hand back into her hair to tilt her head further. His lips pressed to hers gently, just a soft brush at first to test the waters. His lips were soft and warm against hers, the kiss gentle at first. He waited for her to react, to see if she would pull away or lean into it. As she didn't, he took it as his sign to keep going, slowly increased the pressure, his lips molding to hers in a soft, sweet kiss.

Feeling emboldened when she began to press her lips back to his, Harry peppered her lips with a series of short, sweet kisses. His lips brushed against hers once, twice, three times in rapid succession, each kiss a little firmer than the last. He could feel her starting to relax into it, her lips softening beneath his own. Encouraged, he let his tongue flick out briefly, a teasing taste before pulling back slightly to gauge her reaction. She tasted like the lemon lime soda she’d had with dinner, a sweet surprise. All of this had been. He hadn’t been sure if she would say yes and if this would potentially make things weird, but thankfully Y/N seemed at least a little receptive to it. His hand remained in her hair, holding her gently as he studied her face for any signs of discomfort or approval. “Okay?”

Y/N knew he would be a good kisser, but he was playing it safe. However, even with the safety still on, she knew he had it in him. He wasn’t as shy as he had been before and that had surprised her a bit when he had gripped her to keep her in place. That had been exceptionally hot. At least to her. “Yeah. You did well.” She cleared her throat to rid herself of the rasp. “You’re playing it safe, though. Here.”

Swinging her knee over his lap, she pushed him back against the back of the couch so his posture was more relaxed. “You’re stiff. Pun not intended.” She snickered, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You’ve got to relax a little bit. I don’t know if it’s just me or you get anxious when you kiss other girls too. The thing you did holding my face still? That was hot. It’s gonna depend on the girl but you seem to have an idea on what to do.” Placing her hands on his broad shoulders, she settled her weight on top of him. Hm.. he really had been doing well at the gym. “You okay with me on your lap?”

Harry blinked in surprise, trying to catch up to the fact that she was currently in his lap. Closer than she usually got to him, voluntarily hopping on up. “Y-yes! I mean, yes, please. Go on." His voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying his nerves. He wasn’t sure if it was from the unexpected closeness or just the sudden shift in dynamic between them. Her weight felt nice on his lap, but besides a cuddle or two this was definitely the closest they’d ever been. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be nervous.”

Y/N nearly cooed. His frown was precious, really. He was precious. Sliding a hand over his jaw, she tilted his head to meet her eyes. “It’s okay to be nervous, but it’s just me. I’m not going to judge you. You asked for my help, and I’m gonna give it to you.” Slipping her fingers in his hair, she made herself familiar with touching him. They hadn’t been super touchy to begin with but she knew Harry liked physical touch. He was clingy with their other friends physically, but he had always respected that Y/N typically wasn’t the type. Now though? It was free game. “You can touch me how you want. Get familiar with me.”

Y/N wasn’t the type to truly judge if you really needed her and he knew that. Hell, that was why he had come to her in the first place- but she was intimidatingly beautiful. It set him off to be even more nervous. His mind briefly wondered if this was how he was in bed- overthinking everything- maybe that was why he didn’t get calls back.

“Shit.” He muttered softly, then snapped back to attention as she told him to touch her. He wanted to do that, he had always wanted to but Y/N only really liked to be cuddled when drunk. When she was, she would be giggly and happy, hold on to his hand and swing them back and forth, especially when he helped her get into the car. It had always made him feel special, but this? It was a privilege to touch her. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms loosely around her, testing the waters. “Like this?” He spread his fingers out slightly on her back, his thumbs nearly brushing the bottom of her bra strap under her top.

“Yeah, that’s nice.” Leaning into him, she let her fingers run over the rims of his glasses. “These are cute. I like them.” His new glasses suited him. They were a little bit thinner than his old ones and it was a tad bit more modern. She hadn’t been lying to him when she said he had the hot n’ nerdy advantage. “You’ve got really nice hands, Har. Use them.”

He blushed slightly at the compliment on his glasses, his fingers tightening slightly on her waist possessively. "You really think?" He asked softly, tilting his head to the side to give her better access to his face. He liked when she did little things like that, adjusting his glasses or messing with his hair. Maybe it was because he felt touch starved, particularly from her, but the simple brushes of her fingers made him feel that heat in his lower stomach. It was so simple but the air felt a lot thicker than it had before. He took a deep breath, steeling his nerves to be more bold as he slowly dragged his hands over her hips.

“Mhm.” She nodded, gently running her nails over his scalp. “See? I’m not too scary.” Though she had to admit that the feeling of his big hands pawing at her and running over her hips and waist made her feel a little bit giddy. Maybe she could attribute it to the fact it really had been a while since she had been touched in a way that wasn’t friendly, but her body liked the way it felt. “You’re being polite, which is nice. But as cute as your little gentleman thing is, I know you want to grab my ass, Harry. You can do it.”

Harry's breath caught as she said that, his eyes darkening slightly behind his glasses. He had definitely been thinking about it, doubted there was anyone who saw it and didn’t want to, but he hadn't wanted to overstep. Hearing her give him permission was like a green light and he couldn't help himself. His hands squeezed her hips before slowly sliding down to grip her ass, his fingers spreading out to knead the soft flesh. "Fuck..." He muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse. "You're so soft."

His grip on her ass tightened reflexively as he pulled her more firmly against him, a low groan escaping his lips. The heat of her pressed deliciously against his hardening cock, and he couldn't help but roll his hips slightly, seeking friction. "Shit, Y/N...Sorry. I don't want to get carried away." He breathed, his face flushing darker. Here he was, rock hard with his best friend in his lap, from a little ass grab. It was embarrassing how quickly he had gotten worked up- But God, it felt good.

There was a sigh out of her mouth as she felt him start to relax and do what he wanted to do. This was closer to where she wanted him to get, but she hadn’t expected it to feel as good just being rubbed over his lap. “There you go- it’s okay.” She whispered. “That’s hot. You want to show her that you’re eager for her.” With her grip in his hair, she tugged his head back slightly to look at his pink cheek. “You’re a faster learner, I know. But you remember what I told you? Try kissing my neck. I told you the spots I like.”

His eyes fluttered shut as she tugged on his hair, his throat exposed to her. "Yeah. I can do it. S’long as you feel good, m’happy..." He whispered, his voice rougher than she had ever heard it. Leaning into her touch, he let her guide his face into her neck and followed instructions quickly to press open mouth kisses to her skin. He started at the spot just below her ear, as she had told him about, sucking gently on the soft skin. His hands continued to grab at her ass, pulling her flush against him as he kissed and sucked his way down her neck.

The kisses trailed lower, his lips hot and damp against her neck. Each press of his mouth made chills rise on her skin, his stubble lightly scratching her sensitive skin in the most delicious way. As he sucked gently on a particularly sweet spot, she couldn't help but tip her head to give him better access, a soft gasp escaping her lips. None of this had been expected, but liking his mouth on her skin hadn’t been. Maybe it really was just the fact it had been a while but… it felt better than her last hookup.

Harry was her friend and she trusted him. She felt safe, and that probably made her feel a lot more comfortable, just as it probably did for him. But having his hands all over her was something her whole body was responding to. A quick learner, he had realized how much she liked feeling the friction and did something about it. His strong hands gripped her ass harder, pulling her over his lap and letting feel the throb of him through their clothes.

He could feel her getting heavier in his lap, her breath growing shallow as he continued his adoration of her neck. It felt amazing, yes, but he was in a bit of awe. Harry really should have known that Y/N didn’t half ass anything. She was thorough in everything she did- apparently it extended to teaching him how to please a woman. His hands roamed freely as he adjusted, taking a risk in spreading her legs wider over his lap to better fit her between his thighs.

"Am I doing okay?" He mumbled into her neck, his voice muffled. "Is this warming you up enough? Or should I be doing more?" His fingers flexed on her hips before sliding down, spreading out to rest on her thighs.

“You’re doing good.” The thickness in her throat made her voice a bit raspier, unsure how she had managed to let herself get to this point. It felt really fucking good. His hands strong and so fucking big, splaying over her thighs. The heat of them seeming to radiate through her skin and down to her bones, she wanted to lean into that touch.

God, she was touch deprived.

He had done a good job in making her panties damp and it felt almost embarrassing that a little bit of heavy petting and kissing on the neck had her pussy throbbing, but she couldn’t exactly deny it. Lightly rubbing herself against him again to get more of the friction her body was demanding, she closed her eyes and let her head lean back before she admitted it to him. “You’re making me wet.”

His whole body seemed to tense up at her whispered admission, his hands flexing on her as he took a breath. "You are?" He whispered back, his voice not able to contain his surprise. He had hoped he was doing something right- especially after all the apparent failures he’d had- but hearing that she was wet from just his touch and kisses was... something else. He wasn't used to being this effective. His ego swelled slightly, making him bolder. "Can I... touch more?" He asked hesitantly, his fingers inching higher up her thighs. "Can I feel what I’m doing to you?"

His words had her gritting his teeth. Where the fuck did that come from, and why did it made her throb? Letting out a breath through her nose, she opened her eyes to look at him. It shocked her a little, seeing his lips swollen and eyes a little hazy, glasses a tiny bit crooked. He looked disheveled in a way he usually didn’t. Of course he had always been hot but this look in particular, knowing it was caused by her specifically? It fueled her ego too.

“Y-Yeah.” She nodded, clearing her throat. “Yeah, you can. That’s what I’d tell you to do next. You have good instincts.” It was a mystery to her how Harry, who was good at almost everything, had struggled to make a girl cum- but she was the teacher now. “You can slip your hand into the waistband.”

"Fuck. Thank you." Harry muttered under his breath. He couldn't believe he was actually about to touch Y/N intimately, after all these years of being just friends… It was insane. He wasn’t unable to see how insanely fucking hot she was, that had never been an issue. He’d had a few questionable wet dreams about her- but the actual idea of ever touching her hadn’t come up until recently, and he was liking it a bit more than he probably should be for a lesson.

With trembling fingers, he slowly slipped one large hand down the front of her joggers, sliding it along her stomach until he reached the top of her panties. "Can... can I? Under them?" His breath was warm against her neck as he asked permission, albeit a bit jumbled, waiting for her nod before slowly slipping under the final piece of fabric that kept him from her most intimate place.

At her nod, he released a deep breath through his nose. His heart was racing as he slowly pushed his hand under her panties, the back of his fingers brushing against the soft, damp fabric. He could feel the heat emanating from between her legs, his own body responded accordingly. His cock was pulsing in his briefs, surely starting to make a bit of a mess. "Holy shit." Harry breathed, his voice shaking slightly as he explored her with his hand. His fingers dipped lower, feeling the slickness coating her folds. “You really are fucking soaked.” Tilting his head up with an awed smile, he met her eyes. “I did that t’you?”

“Mhm.” It felt slightly harder to breathe as she looked at his eyes, seeing the pride in his face, feeling his fingers cupping her wet pussy and giving a little squeeze. It had her inhaling sharply, fingers on his shoulder digging into his shirt. “You did. I- I want you to show me what you do when you get to this stage with the girls you hook up with.” It was taking everything in her not to rock against his hand, staying still as she tried to ground herself.

His fingers trembled slightly as he tried to mimic what he thought he had seen in porn or heard from his friends. He had forgotten what to do. Another symptom of his damn nerves taking over. He roughly spread her lips apart, his thumb pressing against her clit as his middle finger pushed inside her soaked pussy. "Shit... I'm... I'm not really sure what to do..." He admitted, his voice shaking as he started to rub her clit in slightly sporadic circles while thrusting his finger inside her. It was clumsy and a bit rough, but he was trying his best.

“Okay- alright. Stop.” Making sure to keep her voice soft and not like she was scolding him, she held his face in her hands. “You’re jumping right into it a bit too fast, Honey.” The nickname fell from her lips a bit too easily but she decided to ignore that. “You need to ease into it. Find a rhythm. Pull your fingers out.” She instructed, gently stroking over his cheekbone. It was obvious he was embarrassed from his flushed cheeks, and she didn’t want that. He wasn’t doing too badly, but he’d asked for a lesson. That’s what she was going to give him.

“Hey… Look at me.” Tilting his chin up, she gave him a soft smile. “S’okay, Har. You came to me for help. I’m gonna help you. You didn’t do anything inherently wrong.” Still, she could see he felt some type of way about it, and she knew he needed a bit more comforting. Leaning in, her lips pressed against his in a soft peck. It was more intimate than it should have been, but she was again, going to ignore that. “Hi.” Smoothing the skin under his eye, she gave him a giggle. “Okay, so… You’ve got incredible hands. They’re so nice… and I know you can be good with them. So let’s start slow, okay? Do slow circles over my clit with your thumb. Nice n’gentle.”

His shoulders had dropped slightly after her small kiss, ignoring the flutter he’d felt in his chest from it. He hadn't realized how tense he had gotten, like he had failed the test- but this was Y/N. Y/N was safe, she was kind despite how blunt she was, and she was helping him. There was no evidence of her making fun of him in her tone, simply sweet. Unusual, maybe, but it seemed like she knew what she needed.

"Okay." He mumbled softly, his cheeks slightly less red. Her compliments helped a bit- He had always had confidence issues when it came to this. "Like this?" He asked shyly, his large thumb slowly making small, loose circles over her clit. He was careful to keep his touch gentle like she asked, watching her face for any signs that he was doing it wrong again.

He felt her body tense pleasantly at his touch, a soft exhale escaping her lips. Encouraged by her response, he maintained the slow circles, his thumb brushing over her clit with deliberate gentleness. Her hips gave a tiny involuntary roll against his hand, seeking more of the pleasant friction. Harry's fingers twitched slightly, wanting to increase his pace but remembering her instruction. He resisted the urge, keeping the rhythm maddeningly slow.

“Yeah. That’s so nice.” She whispered. It was experimenting, letting him explore and get the hang of it. “Every woman is different. Some people will want it faster, some will want it rougher, but I like this to start.” She admitted, leaning into him. “Here.” Dragging the cropped top off of her body, she exposed the lacy bralette she had heard good reviews for to him. It was quite nice, holding her tits up in a way she hasn’t expected- but she’d chosen correctly today, unknowing that a man would be able to see it firsthand. “When you’re doing this, you keep kissing her. Licking. Sucking her nipples, if she’s into it.”

His eyes roamed over her bralette-clad breasts, the delicate lace contrasting with her soft, smooth skin. He felt his mouth watering, the urge to taste her growing stronger as he watched them move as she breathed- but thankfully, thank god, she had given the go ahead to touch. To taste. "Okay. I definitely can do that." He murmured, his thumb continuing its slow circles on her clit as he leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone.

His lips trailed lower, his kisses growing more intentional. The lace of her bralette tickled his lips as he worked his way down. He could see her nipples hardening beneath the fabric, making his mouth water. His thumb continued its steady, slow rhythm on her clit, causing her to shift slightly in his lap. It was surreal to feel her breathing, hear it so close up as he kissed over her pounding heart.

He was doing this to her. Harry was making her wet, making her squirm. The confidence the breathy moan she let out had him pushing for more. With one hand, he gently pushed the lace down to expose one breast fully, making her gasp softly. His lips immediately found her hard nipple, surrounding it completely and sucking gently.

“Oh, Jesus.” The words were pathetically, a mewl that came from the back of her throat as his hot tongue lapped over her swollen nipple. The suction was light, soft, just like his thumb on her clit- and it was enough to make her feel like she was going insane. “T-That’s really fucking nice.” She praised, raising her hand to card it through his fluffy curls. He must have just washed them, they always looked pretty when he did.

Hearing her moan like that, praising him so freely, sent a jolt straight to his cock. He hummed around her nipple, the vibrations deliberate this time. His tongue flicked over the hardened bud before he switched to sucking harder, desperate to elicit another gorgeous noise from her.

“Yeah- like that.” Rocking her hips slightly into his hand, she pulled his head closed onto her breast. It felt too good, too hot to stop. Yeah, this was a lesson, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy teaching him. “Some girls won’t get much enjoyment out of this. Their nipples aren’t sensitive to it as much. If they aren’t responsive, you can keep it moving- or a-ask them if they want you to keep going.” Her voice was higher in pitch than she had meant for it to be but it wasn’t possible for her to control that right now. “I really like it, though. So it’s doing the job. You can rub my clit a little harder- give it more pressure.”

Her words had him nearly purring around her nipple. The little thrill went up his spine as her hips rolled into his hand, knowing that now he had a decent idea of what he was doing and could feel less nervous about it. Listening to instructions like he had promised he would, Harry added more pressure to his thumb, rubbing it harder over her little bundle of nerves. It was impossible not to feel her getting slicker against his palm, her breast filled his mouth perfectly, his tongue swirling around the peak before sucking it back between his lips. Almost overstimulation for his mind, but he wanted to keep going. He was trying his best to be good with his hands- he really was- But damn. Her body was so responsive.

Y/N wanted to continue this as long as she could. She wanted to feel him get more and more confident with it, but he seemed to have a grasp on it. There would probably be… a few times where they’d get to do this, and if she was honest? If they kept this up, she was going to cum and be too sensitive for his mouth. And by the way he kissed? She wanted to feel his mouth.

“Mmmm.. Har, Honey.” She whispered, gently tugging his mouth off of her tits with a gentle tug of his hair. “Hi. Hello.” It was stupidly cute, the slightly lost look on his face. “S’okay. You were doing good. A bit too good actually. I just think that we should get to teaching you how to eat pussy. I’ll cum if you keep going.”

He blinked rapidly, a slightly dazed look on his face as he tried to process why he’d been pulled away when he’d obviously been making her feel good. It felt incredible to have her nipple in his mouth, hearing her soft noises of pleasure. The haze of lust in his mind slowly cleared at her words, realizing she was probably right, even if he selfishly wanted to keep going. "Oh..." He murmured softly, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks. "Right. Okay." He adjusted his glasses, trying to regain some semblance of focus.

“Good.” She stroked his hair back with a tender smile, pulling him to kiss her again before taking a look at his face. “I’m gonna lay back, like this.” Sliding off his lap, Y/N settled against the arm of the couch pulling a pillow to rest her head on. The position had her sitting up slightly, but gave a more relaxed vision. Hopefully that would have him feeling calmer. “And you’re gonna lay between my legs once I get these off.” Her bottoms needed to get off immediately.

When he sat back, she tugged on the waistband and squirmed to get them off, haphazardly kicking them to the floor- along with her panties. There wasn’t much hesitance in showing her body to him. Y/N liked her body, she felt proud of it, and she embraced it. There was always those nerves though, being intimate with someone new- even if it was for a lesson. Spreading her thighs, she placed a hand over her cunt and motioned for him to lay down. “Do you remember what I said, Honey? About teasing?”

He nodded slowly, trying to remember all the instructions she had given him. "Tease first..." He murmured softly, adjusting his glasses nervously as he positioned himself between her thighs. Using his elbows to keep him up a bit, he swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched her spread them wider for his body to fit between. "Kiss, lick, don't go straight for the... the main event?" He asked hesitantly, his hands resting on her inner thighs.

“Very good.” Her face lit up as he looked at her for reassurance. “It’s the little things that get me. You know? The soft brushing of fingers on the thighs, the stomach, right above my pussy…” She trailed off with a sigh. “Kiss my thighs, Har. Can you do that for me?” Taking her hand off her cunt, she properly revealed it for the first time for his eyes to see.

Harry felt the breath catch in his throat as the sight of her bare pussy caught him off guard. It wasn’t lost on him that he was very lucky to be able to experience this. Y/N was beautiful and he adored her, but there was a new appreciation in him for how kind she was being. This wasn’t something you could just ask anyone. "Fuck..." He whispered, his hands squeezing her inner thighs gently as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to the delicate skin. "Like this?" He murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her sensitive skin, his lips brushing over the crease where her leg met her hip.

“Mhm.”

He could see her body relax into the touch, her thighs parting a bit more to give him better access. Her skin was so soft and warm under his lips, and he could smell her scent growing stronger the closer he got to her center. Harry took his time, pressing gentle kisses along her inner thighs, his hands brushing along the skin in a featherlight touch. He could hear her breathing growing a bit shallower, her chest rising and falling a bit faster. It emboldened him to continue, to keep teasing her like she had told him to.

"You're... you're doing so good." Y/N breathed out, one hand coming to rest in his hair as she spread her legs wider, hooking one over his shoulder. She could feel herself growing wetter with each kiss, more aroused knowing he was taking his time to learn her body. Such a good little student. "Lower. Just a bit..." she whispered, guiding his head with gentle fingers. Her other hand drifted down to her breast, plucking at her nipple as she watched him between her legs. "Kiss right above my cunt.”

Eagerly following her guidance, he moved up to press a soft kiss just above her pussy, his lips brushing against her soft curls. He could feel the heat radiating off of her, smell her arousal. It was intoxicating, and he found himself nuzzling into her a bit, his nose pressing against her. "Fuck, you smell so good..." he murmured, his voice muffled against her skin. He pressed another kiss right at the top of her slit.

“Oh fuck- that was good.” She gasped in surprise. “That’s filthy. Rubbing yourself against me but… it’s so hot. Showing how eager you are to make the person you’re gonna pleasure, it’s really sexy.” Brushing his hair out of his face, she felt the heat of his breath over her cunt. “Tell me you want to eat me out. Talk to me.”

"I do..." His voice came out huskier than he'd planned, his eyes flicking up to meet hers briefly before focusing back on her exposed pussy. "Fuck, Y/N... I really want t’taste you." Without waiting for further instruction, he used his fingers to spread her open for him and pressed a gentle kiss directly to her clit, making her gasp loudly. "You're so fucking wet… Can’t believe I did this." His finger traced down her slit slowly, as if showing instead of telling how aroused she was.

"Your cunt is fucking glistening. I can already tell your pussy is sweet..." He muttered against her skin, his tongue peeking out to give her one soft lick. Tasting her for the first time, savoring the flavor on his tongue, he was proving that fact. She was perfect to taste- a pussy like this deserved the best of the best, and he wanted her to show him exactly what she liked. Y/N moaned loudly, her hips rolling slightly, a clear indication that she liked what he was doing. "Yeah? You like that? S’good for you?" Harry asked, his voice encouraging as he licked her again, this time a bit slower, applying a bit more pressure.

“Uh-huh… Shit.” She cussed, feeling his tongue swipe up and over her clit. “D-Do what you want. Let me see where it’s going wrong because right now from my perspective, you’re doing perfectly.” Why would he even need help? Was it a ploy to fuck her? That was doubtful considering Harry really, really wasn’t like that. The worst part was that she was liking it a lot more than she was supposed to. If she was training him on how to pleasure how she liked it, it was going to be hard not to lose it.

Harry smiled slightly at her words, feeling a bit more confident in his actions. He started slowly, his tongue flicking out to lap at her gently, his fingers keeping her open for him to fully access her. He could feel her wetness spread onto his chin, and he couldn't help but push himself, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking softly. He looked up at her, checking her face for any signs of discomfort or pleasure.

He was learning, trying to remember how she had said she liked it. His tongue swiped up again, swirling around her entrance slowly before pushing inside slightly. "Like this?" He mumbled softly, his chin wet with her juices. He kept his movements slow and unhurried, his touch soft. He was tentative, like he was scared of messing up. "Is this good?"

“I.. Normally would say that’s a bit fast to push your tongue in but fuck, that felt nice.” She giggled breathlessly. “Here…” Her fingers were careful as she took his glasses off and tossed them further down the couch so they wouldn’t get in the way- or worse, crushed. “Wanted to see those pretty eyes.” Her fingers kept the hair out of his eyes as she felt a few kisses over her mound, in the thatch of curls above her cunt. His face was slightly wet, but it was erotic. “That feels so nice. The kisses…” She hummed. “You have the instincts. Don’t think too much about it. Doing things like that- That’s good. Just make me feel good. See what I respond to.”

Harry blinked owlishly at her, surprised by the sudden loss of his glasses but pleased when he realized she liked his eyes. His face flushed slightly at the praise, his tongue darting out to lick over her clit hesitantly. "Okay. You’ll tell me if y’don’t like it, yeah?" He asked, his breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh. He leaned in, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her pussy, the sound drowning out the tv playing at a lowered volume.

She nodded slowly, watching him between her thighs. He was almost shy like this, his face buried in her pussy as he kissed around it sweetly. His lips were soft, his kisses unhurried. He spread her wider with his thumbs, his tongue poking out to give her one slow lick from bottom to top. Her hips shifted slightly, chasing the feeling. "You taste so good." He mumbled softly, his voice sending vibrations against her. “I didn’t expect you t’get so wet for me. Soaking my chin. I love it.”

His words seemed to have struck a chord in her, judging by how sharply her breath hitched and her legs involuntarily tried to press around his head. She visibly flustered, clearly flattered by his filthy compliments- and shocked. Had he always had that in him? "Harry..." She whimpered, the sound of his wet mouth against her flesh combined with his sweet, dirty words making her pulse against his tongue. "You... should be careful with that mouth." She whispered, her hand tangling in his hair again, guiding him slightly without putting any pressure.

He chuckled softly, the vibrations traveling pleasantly through her core. "Why's that?" He murmured teasingly against her skin, his tongue darting out for another long, slow lick. He could feel her practically melting under his mouth, her thighs quivering slightly. This was how it was supposed to be. Maybe it was because he didn’t feel as anxious with her, they had repor, he truly trusted her- but it felt like he had a better sense of her body and what she liked.

She’d given him clues and tips, but he was finding out on his own what she liked. It was something he was enjoying the longer he did it, feeling more eager to bury his face in her pretty pussy and never leave. Especially when he felt her hand tighten in his hair and her body shift to get more. "Worried I might make you cum too hard?" His tone was playful, a little more confident now, and that was dangerous for her. Feeling him nipp gently at her clit, soothing it with a flicker of his tongue immediately after was enough proof of that. Looking up at her he tried to see if that was okay, but the noise she let out had him feeling fairly sure it was.

"Fuck, Harry... You smartass.” The giggle turned into a pitched moan very quickly after though, her back arching as he sucked on her clit in retaliation, her hips rolling against his mouth. Harry could feel her getting closer, her pussy getting wetter. He knew the signs, she was teaching him. His hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place as he licked into her eagerly. She was so responsive, her body reacting to his every move. He felt powerful, in control- and it was a heady feeling.

"Jesus, your pussy is perfect." He mumbled between kisses, not caring if she could hear him. He could see her getting close- her thighs trembling, her breathing quickening, and the way her fingers were now tight in his hair. That was his goal. He wanted to make her cum so fucking bad it hurt. His cock was a mess in his trousers but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to make her cum, hard. He wanted to clean it up as he made himself messy. "Do you want my fingers inside you?" He whispered, not missing a beat with his mouth returning to his suckling. He kept the pace steady but increased the pressure just slightly, wanting to hear her response.

"Yes..." Y/N breathed out the single word, squirming helplessly against his face. His mouth felt incredible and he obviously felt better about what he was doing now, taking more risks that only worked out in her favor. "So good, honey. You’re doing so good, your mouth is perfect."

How had he been bad with these other women? All it took was a little bit of instruction with a soft voice and he was licking into her like she was his last fucking meal.

She gasped, her nails nearly digging into his scalp as he slipped one finger inside her easily. "Your fingers are so big. Holy shit..." She panted, grinding down on his hand. "More..." She begged, knowing damn well she hadn’t wanted to be this needy for it but god damn. He was a good student. A very fast learner. "Please." The woman’s voice cracked with need. "Harry, please..."

He curled his fingers slightly inside her, hitting that spot he’d read about but had never actually found on a woman before. He must be doing it right, because she was practically sobbing his name, her hips bucking against his hand. He added another finger, stretching her slowly but surely, his tongue never stopping its slow, deliberate lapping.

It was obvious what she liked, what made her feel good, and he wanted to keep doing it. Memorize it so he knew how to do it perfectly next time- or continue practicing until he had it down. His head felt fuzzy with the need to get her there, to make her feel hot under the skin like he had been clueless about before. "Look at me." he mumbled against her, his voice muffled but insistent. He wanted to see her face contort with pleasure, wanted to watch her get closer.

It felt like her entire world had narrowed down to his fingers inside her and his tongue on her clit. It really had been far too long since she’d been touched and even longer since she had been eaten out with this amount of vigor. Maybe it hadn’t ever happened prior to him, but her brain wasn’t fully working. She was so close, teetering on the edge and he just... he just kept pushing her. Adding more, curling just right, licking and sucking in a rhythm that seemed designed to drive her insane.

Y/‘ couldn’t see him fully, not with his face buried smugly between her thighs, but she managed to lift her head, her eyes finding his own as he had demanded. The intensity in his gaze, the desperate need, it was too much. “Just like that, you’re going t’make me cum. Just like that, keep it like that- fuck.” Her groan seemed angry but it was anything but. She was worked over and sulking at how good it felt. “Shit, you love eating pussy. Don’t you, Harry? Just needed s-someone to show you how they like it.”

"Fuck yeah." He breathed against her, his eyelids drooping with pleasure at her accusation. He loved this, every fucking second. The slick sounds of her arousal, the way her pussy clenched around his fingers, the taste, how she grabbed at his hair, the sounds she made, the changes in her breathing, her squirming, the way her words slurred a little bit, the pulsing against his tongue.

God. Harry fucking loved it- he just didn’t know it could be this good. Addicting.

The vibrations as he groaned happily between her lips had to be adding something extra. "Knew I'd love it. Jus’ want to be able to make you feel good."

"Cum on my face baby, okay? Just let go. I wanna taste you." He whispered hoarsely, pressing a sloppy kiss to her clit before sucking it back into his mouth. His fingers curled again and again inside her, hitting that elusive spot over and over as she dripped all over his fingers and down the back of his hand. He wanted to make her shatter, wanted to feel her cum all over his face and fingers like he had been working toward.

There was no way she could even respond properly. The constant stimulation to her g-spot, his repeated sucking on her clit, the way he sloppily ate her cunt with little regard of the mess she was making on his face- the only thing he seemed to give a fuck about was making her cum. Who was she to take that from him?

Her body tensed, her back arching as she let out a long, drawn-out moan. It was a sound of pure pleasure, her entire being focused on the overwhelming sensation of him working her over. She came hard, her pussy clamping down on his fingers as she gushed all over his face and hand. Her hand was tight in his locks, tugging as a garbled moan left her mouth and she attempted to writhe. He kept her held still as he moaned loudly against her.

In fact, Harry didn’t stop. Even as she came, he kept eating her, his fingers still curled inside her as he lapped up her cum, cleaning her up. He was fucking starving for it, for the taste and the sound and the feeling of her losing control. He sucked and licked her pussy, feeling it spasming occasionally, until he was certain he had cleaned up every last drop- And her weak push of her hand against his head. Only then did he slowly pull his fingers out, his face and hand coated in her.

She was a goddess, slumped back against the cushions with a flushed, dazed expression. Harry couldn't help but kiss her inner thigh as it twitched before wiping his mouth. "Fuck, you’re amazing." The man murmured. Crawling up her body, he claimed her lips in a messy kiss, letting her taste herself. “Thank you.” It was mumbled between lazy kisses. “Thank you, Thank you.”

His hands roamed over her as he continued to kiss her sloppily, his body heavy on top of hers. He was still fully dressed, his erection painfully trapped in his pants. "Y/N... I’m sorry, but can I?" He asked softly, his fingers already working at the button of his jeans, his intent clear. "I gotta cum. Can I cum on your cunt? Please?” If he wasn’t so horny he would be embarrassed for doing this, but he was losing it. When it died down, he would definitely be embarrassed for how insane he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. Maybe the lack of blood flow to the head, it was going directly to the other.

“Shit.” Y/N laughed weakly, her body feeling like pins and needles as it came down from the orgasm. The idea was one she had considered, especially with how good he had listened- a reward. “Yeah, Honey. As a reward.” She sighed, leaning her head up further. “I wanna watch.”

He almost whined at her words, practically tearing his jeans open wide enough to pull out his stiff cock. He pushed his pants down towards his calves, staying there between her spread legs. His hand gripped his dick tightly, squeezing as he looked up at her face from his spot between her legs. "Yeah- yeah, please watch. I love being watched.” His hips moved forward unconsciously as he ran his cock over her, the head of his dick smearing pre-cum all over her cunt.

“Cute little exhibitionist.” Y/N cooed, running her hand over her stomach. “Go ahead. You’ve got such a pretty cock, but it looks like it hurts.” Her lips formed a soft pout. “Stroke yourself and cum all over that pussy, Harry.”

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He chanted under his breath, his hand moving faster over his shaft. With his tip pressing against her clit, he ran it up and down her slit. "You're so pretty. Your cunt is beautiful- all of you, so fucking gorgeous." He complimented her, his words coming out in short gasps. It was so hot, the way her lips spread around him, how she looked all fucked out and messy from his mouth. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum all over you, baby."

Y/N looked up at him with a soft, encouraging smile, her eyes staring into his with that tinge of desire. "Cum for me, Harry. Cum all over my pretty little pussy. I wanna see it, I wanna see you lose it." Her hand moved down to spread herself, holding herself open for him. "You've been so good, so obedient. You deserve it. Such a good student, a fast learner… You can have it. Cum on my cunt." Her voice was gentle but commanding, the perfect blend of sweet and dirty that had him right on the edge.

"Fuck, Y/N..." Harry whimpered, his eyes fluttering shut as her words pushed him over the edge. With a final thrust of his hips, he came undone. He felt the first spurt of his hot, sticky cum hit her pussy lips, coating them in his release. He groaned loudly, his body shuddering as he pumped out rope after rope of cum, covering her cunt completely. "Oh my god... Oh my god."

Even as he finished cumming, a few last spurts dribbling out to make a mess across her lower stomach, he couldn't look away from where his cum coated her pussy lips, right in her thatch curls and the surrounding skin. It was obscene, filthy, and he loved it. Y/N had made him lose his mind a bit, but he didn’t really want to find it.

Breathing heavily, he finally met her gaze with a slightly embarrassed but mostly pleased grin. "Holy fuck, that was hot." He murmured, swallowing hard. "Never done that before. Came so fucking hard..."

"Good, cause you made a mess." She giggled, watching him as his chest heaved. The sight of his stomach and abs glistened with a light sheen of sweat- his hair was ruffled and he looked like he’d had a workout instead of jerking off on her body. "You like that, I think. Making a mess." She asked softly, watching as he continued to stroke himself slowly, milking himself. Her eyes were drawn back to his dick. It really was beautiful- and really fucking big. “Where the hell were you hiding that? God damn.”

He couldn't help but chuckle at her comment, glancing down at his slowly softening dick with a smirk. "Guess I just needed the right inspiration, huh?" He teased lightly, finally releasing his grip on himself and leaning forward to rest his forearms on either side of her head, caging her in slightly. His face was mere inches from hers now, his glasses gone and his hair disheveled in the sexiest way possible. “Just need t’do this before we clean up and act normal again. Don’t yell at me.”

His mouth claimed hers slowly, lips moving softly against hers. He licked into her mouth slowly, like he was savoring her taste, his body half covering hers. His hand cupped her cheek as he deepened the kiss slowly, like he was trying to imprint himself onto her. Just as quick as it started though, it was over. She shouldn’t have been so sad about that. He pulled back slowly, his forehead resting against hers. His eyes opened slowly to find her watching him softly, their lips still wet and swollen from the kiss. He grinned slightly, licking his lips again. “See? Not so bad.”

“Yeah.” She laughed, feeling dazed. Who the fuck was this? And why did he kiss so good it made her toes curl? Who was this and what had they done to her best friend? “I think your problem isn’t that you don’t have skill. Naturally you seem to get it. I think you’ve just gotten into your own head and you think too much.” She had been a safe person and it was easier for him to lose that anxiety with her, knowing she had already agreed to teach him.

“It can be hard to perform if you’re not able to properly get into it. Your dick can be hard as nails, but your mind not being in it will be a mood killer and they’re gonna know.” The smile on her face was slightly sad but she knew it was what he had to hear. “Because honestly? I haven’t orgasmed like that in ages. All it took was a few tweaks and you had it down. Maybe you just aren’t a hookup guy. Did that feel a lot different than the other people?” Maybe he needed someone who could openly communicate. The expectation of someone just knowing wasn’t always fair.

"Yeah." He hesitated, shifting slightly to prop himself up on one elbow next to her. His other hand traced patterns on her stomach absentmindedly. "It was... different." He seemed to struggle with the words for a moment. "With those other girls, I was always nervous. Overthinking every single fucking thing. Like you said." He glanced at her face, a slight blush forming across his cheeks. "With you... it felt natural. Real. And fuck, listening to you moan like that… Where did those lungs come from?"

“You freak!” She laughed, pushing his shoulder to get him to sit up. Adjusting her bralette back over her breasts she didn’t bother with the bottoms yet, because she really needed to go clean up. Secretly she was pleased that she had been different. It was so cliche to say it, but she wanted to be different than them. She just… wasn’t quite sure why yet. Her brain hadn’t come back down to earth fully and she couldn’t be bothered to truly question it. “You won’t need many lessons on how to pleasure a woman with results like that, I’m telling you that. Good job.” Reaching out, she squished his cheeks with a soft coo before he shot her a look.

"Oi!" He laughed, swatting her hand away playfully but with a big smile on his face. "Don't treat me like a puppy. And..." He hesitated, reaching up to cup her face gently, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "Did it really feel that good? I mean." His voice dropped to a slightly embarrassed whisper. "Am I actually good at this stuff?" For someone who had just made her orgasm so hard, he suddenly seemed insecure again. Like he needed validation. "I know you don’t lie like that, but it just feels weird. Cause everyone else seemed disappointed… I thought I’d be completely awful.”

“Oh, H.” She frowned at his vulnerability. “It was really good for me. I think maybe you just need some lessons on how to let go and relax when you’re being intimate. And I’m happy to teach you that.” Brushing her hand over his stubble she gave his chin a pinch. “Trust me. I’d tell you if you needed a lot of work. It can be hard for women to cum from oral sometimes too. It’s hit or miss for me, and you had me cumming so easily so, I would say it was probably a mix of feeling safe and you having some good natural instincts you couldn’t tap into before because you were anxious and your brain was in overdrive.” Pulling him into a hug, she squeezed him lightly as she inhaled his scent. He smelled like mint and sex, with a tinge of laundry detergent. Appropriate.

“When I’m done with you, we’ll have it all squared away and figured out. Okay? Don’t think about those times. Think about the fact you’re gonna get to fuck your really hot best friend.” Standing up from the couch with a laugh and a pat to his head, she walked to the bathroom to get herself clean- and take a minute to breathe. Her chest was doing a weird thing it hadn’t before and she didn’t want to think about it. “Hey, can you order something from that cookie place to be delivered while I shower please? Use my phone, my card is already in the app. Thank youuuu.”

He watched her leave, a small smile on his face at her words. It was a relief to hear that he wasn't completely incompetent. Flopping back against the cushions, he stared at her ceiling fan as it whirred around with a content sigh.

As requested, he ordered a batch of her favorite cookies from the nearby bakery, adding a special request for extra chocolate chips with a small chuckle. She had ordered quite a few times recently, so he had tried to replicate it while adding white choc macadamia for himself. A classic, even if Y/N would wrinkle her nose for them sharing a box.

After submitting it for the delivery, he found himself humming softly, a warmth spreading through his chest at the thought of learning more from her. That had been so good, he felt so relieved that he wasn’t defective- but he did have to wonder how he was going to be this comfortable with anyone else. Y/N was easy to unwind around. It was hard to imagine him getting as comfortable with anyone else in the way he was with her.

Getting closer to her in a vulnerable and intimate way was sure to grow their friendship. He couldn’t really see it backfiring. Their friendship was too strong.

Right?

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