#you can love someone and not be with them

[dcxdpdabbles]

8 year old Bruce: Alfred, can I tell you the story of the Wayne Blood Curse?

Alfred: No. That's how curses get spread. I don't want a blood curse on my house.

Bruce: But its really important I tell all new staff members or they are open to-

Alfred: No. Shush.

Bruce: But-

Alfred: I have dusting to do. Good day, Young Master.

Danny dusting in the room Alfred ran into: Hiya, you new?

Alfred: Yes. Just started last week. Are you a butler, too?

Danny: Not really, I'm more of a floater. I cover whatever work needs to be done if we're short staff. I'm Danny Phantom, by the way. Nice to meet you. You are?

Alfred: It's lovely to meet you, I'm Alfred Pennyworth. I-

Bruce: ALFRED NO! YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE TOLD IT YOUR NAME! WHY DIDN'T YOU LISTEN TO ME!?

Alfred: What?

Danny suddenly glowing and flouting: HeLlO ALfrEd PeNNyWoRtH. ThE conTrACt hAs bEeN SeALeD.

Bruce: No!

Danny: Yes!

Bruce: NO!

Danny: YES!

Bruce: Alfred belongs to my parents! Its why Dad hired him- he's supposed to be my other Dad after a ten year plan of them romancing him!

Danny: Its too late. He's mine now. I have the soul binding ring! SEE! *Waves hand* I'M THE HUSBAND AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT CHILD, MAH HA HA HA!

Bruce: Nooooooooooo!

Alfred frog blink: Whats happening?

Bruce: That's man-stealing ghost took another one! Why is he always after the men, we Waynes want!? Its been 500 years Phantom, leave us alone!

Danny: Ha! You sound just like your father did at your age when I seduced his nanny.

Bruce: I shall have my revenge!

Danny: He said that too!

Alfred: Can someone please explain what the hell is going on!?

[harrysfolklore]

lily - but daddy i love him

summary: max verstappen and yn wolff welcome their first baby into the world. READ BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM HERE. wc:1.6k

folkie radio: GUYS I JUST COULDN'T HELP MYSELF OKAY !!! i love the bdilh babies so much and i missed writing about them and this was just the perfect opportunity. i hope you like this!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

The hospital room is quiet now, the chaos of delivery replaced by a peaceful calm. Early morning light filters through the windows of your private suite in Monaco, casting a gentle glow over the tiny bundle in your arms.

Lily Verstappen-Wolff, all of six hours old, has her father's eyes. They're that same impossible shade of blue, currently studying your face with what seems like intense concentration.

"She's got your nose though," Max whispers from where he's perched beside you on the bed, one arm around your shoulders, the other gently stroking Lily's impossibly small hand. "Thank god."

"Hey," you protest weakly, too exhausted and happy to really be offended. "Your nose is cute."

"Tell that to the aerodynamics team," he laughs softly, then goes quiet when Lily makes a tiny sound. "Sorry, princess. Didn't mean to be loud."

The way Max looks at her makes your heart feel too big for your chest. He's been crying on and off since she arrived, the four-time world champion, known for his fierce determination on track, completely undone by five pounds of baby girl.

A soft knock at the door interrupts your moment. Your father peers in, and you've never seen him look quite like this - his usual composed demeanor completely cracked open, eyes shining with tears.

"Is it... can I..." he starts, unusually lost for words.

"Come meet your granddaughter, Papa."

Toto approaches slowly, as if Lily might startle. When he sees her face, he completely breaks down, tears flowing freely now.

"She's perfect," he whispers, touching her cheek with one finger. His hand is trembling slightly. "She's absolutely perfect."

"Want to hold her?" Max offers, already carefully lifting Lily.

You watch as your father - the intimidating Mercedes team principal who's made grown men cower - cradles your daughter like she's made of glass. He hasn't stopped crying, and it makes your own eyes well up.

"Hallo, kleine Prinzessin," he whispers, his voice trembling. "I'm your Opa." He gently rocks her, studying every feature of her tiny face. "You know, I've won many championships, seen many incredible moments in racing, but nothing... nothing compares to this moment right here."

He touches her tiny hand with one finger, and when she grabs it, a fresh wave of tears falls. "Such a strong grip already. Just like your mama - always holding on tight to what matters."

Max wraps his arm around your shoulders as you watch your father completely melt.

"I promise you, Lily," Toto continues softly, "that you will always have someone in your corner. Someone to protect you, to guide you..." he chuckles wetly, "to teach you all about racing politics and team strategy."

"Papa," you laugh. "She's six hours old."

"Never too early to learn about the importance of good strategy," he says, but his eyes never leave Lily's face. "Although maybe we'll start with simpler things. Like how to wrap your papa around your little finger - though I see you've already mastered that."

Max grins. "Like mother, like daughter."

Toto shifts Lily slightly, cradling her closer to his chest. "You know, meine Kleine, I thought I knew what love was. Thought I understood it completely. But seeing you..." his voice cracks, "seeing my little girl become a mother... holding you..." He has to pause, overwhelmed. "You're going to change everything, aren't you? Just like your mama did."

You reach out and squeeze his arm, your own tears falling freely now.

"Papa?" you ask softly after a moment. "Who else is out there?"

"Just Lewis," he manages, still gazing at Lily. "But we don't want to intrude..."

You exchange a look with Max, who grins and nods.

"Are you kidding?" you laugh. "Get him in here. He needs to meet his goddaughter."

"I'll get him," Max says, kissing your forehead before heading to the door.

Moments later, Lewis appears, looking uncharacteristically nervous. When he sees Lily in Toto's arms, his face does something complicated before crumpling entirely.

"Oh my god," he whispers, moving closer. "Oh my god, look at her."

"Want to hold her?" your father offers, though he looks reluctant to let go.

Lewis nods, unable to speak. When Toto places Lily in his arms, he lets out a shaky breath that turns into a sob.

"Hey baby girl," he manages through tears. "I'm your Uncle Lewis. I'm... I'm going to spoil you so much. And teach you everything about racing. And protect you forever."

"Lewis," you say softly, touched by how emotional he is.

"I can't help it," he sniffles, swaying gently with Lily. "Look at her. She's... she's perfect. She's got your smile already, Little Wolff. And Max's eyes..."

He looks up at Max, who's watching from beside your bed. "You did good, man. Really good."

Max wipes at his own eyes. "We did, didn't we?"

"The best," Lewis agrees, looking back down at Lily. "God, I'm never going to stop crying, am I?"

"Join the club," your father says, still wiping his eyes.

"You know what this means though?" Lewis says suddenly, a mischievous glint appearing through his tears. "As godfather, I get to buy her her first race suit."

"Ferrari colors, I assume?" Max raises an eyebrow.

"Obviously."

"Over my dead body, Hamilton."

"Boys," you warn, but you're smiling. Some things never change.

"We'll let her choose," Lewis decides diplomatically, then adds in a whisper to Lily, "But red would look really good on you, princess."

You watch them - these three strong, competitive men, all completely undone by your tiny daughter. Your father has his hand on Lewis' shoulder, both of them looking at Lily like she's the most precious thing they've ever seen. Max sits beside you again, pulling you close as you all watch Lewis whisper promises to your daughter.

"Welcome to the family, little one," Lewis says softly. "You've got quite the crew looking out for you."

Lily makes a tiny sound and grabs Lewis' finger, making him burst into fresh tears.

"Oh, she's got a good grip," he laughs through his tears. "Future world champion material right there."

"First female world champion," Max says proudly. "Right, princess?"

After several more minutes of Lewis making promises to Lily about racing lessons and future championships, your father gently reminds him that you need rest.

"Just one more minute," Lewis pleads, still cradling Lily like she might disappear.

"Lewis," your father says fondly, "they'll still be here tomorrow."

"And the next day, and the next," you add with a smile. "She's not going anywhere."

Finally, reluctantly, Lewis places Lily back in your arms, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Love you already, little champ."

Your father hugs you carefully, mindful of Lily, then surprises everyone by pulling Max into a tight embrace. "You did good, son," he says softly, and you see Max's eyes well up again.

After they leave, the room falls into a peaceful quiet. Max settles beside you on the bed, his arm around your shoulders, both of you gazing down at your daughter.

"Hi baby girl," he whispers, gently stroking her cheek. "It's just us now."

Lily's tiny hand escapes her blanket, reaching up to grab Max's finger. His breath catches.

"Still can't believe she's real," he murmurs. "That we made her. That she's actually here."

You adjust the soft yellow hat on her head. "Remember when we had to hide from everyone?"

"Couldn't even hold your hand in public," Max laughs softly. "And now we have her."

"And now we have her."

Lily makes a tiny sound, drawing both your attention immediately. Her eyes - so impossibly blue - seem to focus on Max's face.

"Hey princess," he whispers, voice thick with emotion. "I know I probably look scary right now, crying all over the place. But I promise I'm usually more put together than this. Usually. Unless I'm around your mama. She tends to make me emotional too."

"Softie," you tease gently.

"Only for my girls," he admits without hesitation.

You watch as he carefully takes Lily from you, cradling her against his chest with a natural ease that makes your heart ache. The contrast of his strong hands - hands that have controlled the most powerful cars in the world - being so impossibly gentle with her tiny body is almost too much.

"I had this whole speech prepared," he says suddenly. "All these things I was going to tell her when she arrived. About racing, about life, about how much we wanted her. But now..." he looks down at Lily, who's watching him with what seems like intense concentration, "now I just want to tell her that I love her. That I've loved her since the moment we knew about her. That I'll love her forever."

"I think that's all she needs to know," you say softly, leaning against him.

"You know what's crazy?" Max adjusts Lily's blanket with careful precision. "All those championships, all those wins... nothing compares to this. To her. To us."

You watch them together - your fierce, passionate husband gone completely soft for this tiny person who's barely six hours old. The way he keeps checking her blanket, the gentle sway he's adopted without seeming to realize it, the look of pure wonder on his face every time she moves.

"I love you," you say suddenly, overwhelmed by everything. "Both of you. So much."

Max tears his gaze away from Lily to look at you, and the emotion in his eyes takes your breath away. "We love you too," he whispers. "Right, princess? We love Mama so much."

Lily snuggles closer to his chest in response, her tiny hand still gripping his finger.

Outside, the world keeps turning. Soon there will be visitors and photos and congratulations. Soon you'll have to share her with the rest of your extended F1 family. Soon there will be decisions about races and schedules and how to balance everything.

But right now, in this quiet room with the morning sun painting everything gold, there's just this: your little family, complete at last. Max humming softly in Dutch, Lily drifting off to sleep in his arms, and you, watching the two loves of your life together.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

[ssahotchnerr]

Could you maybe write another little blurb where the bau team calls reader and hotch mom and dad? That is like one of my favorite things in the world!!

parental units

i'm so glad you asked <3 cw; fem bau!reader, established relationship, teasing from the team (lovingly), aaron and reader are down bad for each other, your usual (brief) cm violence

"Why do they always need to run?" Panting, you loosened your vest as Aaron handed the unsub off to one of the officers. "Why can't they just willingly turn themselves in."

"You're awfully quick for someone who despises cardio." Aaron teased as he assisted you, undoing your last velcro strap. Same as you, he was normalizing his breathing, but for his own reasons.

The unsub had attempted to escape; you bolted right after him into the dense trees, fleeing into the darkness.

You can hold your own; strongly, confidently, and Aaron knew that. He didn't worry about you in that regard, whereas he worried for you. However, you were out of his line of sight for a good five minutes, the sound of a stray gunshot nearly causing his heart to give out.

Thankfully, the unsub had missed you and hit a tree instead. He and Morgan caught up as you had the guy shoved into it, cuffing him. A few scraps were present on your face to show for your hustle through the trees, but you were unfazed; it was as if you hadn't been shot at at all. Contrary to Aaron, still regaining his composure.

"Oh please," you shook your head, holding onto your side. Your eyes held a playful glint, "I stay in shape just to keep up with you."

His lips formed into an easy smile. "Is that so?"

You hummed softly in return, stealing a second to check him out. "You're very... enduring."

"I aim to please, sweetheart. Over and over again."

You blushed as Aaron laughed lightly, playfully bumping his shoulder into yours. Behind you, the sound of crunching leaves halted, as did the following footsteps.

"The two of you couldn't have waited what, five? Ten more minutes?" Derek groaned, his nose scrunched in disgust as his hand stretched outward. "The guy isn't even in the cruiser yet, and you're already all over each other?" With a subtle shake of his head, mischief in his tone, "this is why we drive separately."

You snorted a laugh. "What?"

"No one wants to ride with Mom and Dad." He shrugged, failing at keeping a smile at bay. "We prefer the cool car."

"You all cram into the SUV... to avoid us." Aaron's expression quirked, his eyebrows lightly furrowing. "Do we need to have a discussion about road safety?"

"The cool car?" Priorities. Slight offense was intertwined with your amusement, your gaze switching between the two of them. "We're cool."

Another famous Derek Morgan grin. "Eh, that's debatable."

"Emily willingly came with us though." You protested, but it was beginning to make sense. The reluctance, the way they all nearly fought over seats, the newly formed rule when applicable: Hotchners always ride together. "So we can't be that bad, right?"

By now you have reached the others, illuminated by the red and blue flashing lights.

"Drew the short straw this time." Emily shrugged, her lips pulling up mischievously. It was clear they were just loving this. "Loser rides with the parents."

Your mouth dropped open, a surprised laugh escaping you. "Seriously?"

"We love you both. We do," Dave reassured, holding his hands up in surrender. "But I already get carsick. Don’t need to add witnessing your foreplay on top of it."

Aaron's brows drew into a line once more, humorously crossing his arms. "Maybe you just have a weak stomach."

Spencer perked up, inputting, "You know, carsickness is-"

"No need for fancy, genius scientifics here Reid." Emily offered you a smirk, feigning a gag once Aaron's hand habitually found the small of your back. You don't think he even realized he'd done so. "They're gross."

"In that case," Aaron rolled his eyes, his brows relaxing as they lifted playfully - it was your turn to poke fun. "My wife and I will be getting into our SUV now. Go ahead, draw your straws. And if whoever loses has a problem with us showing our affection, they can feel free to walk back."

[gffa]

Another "oh SHIT" moment I had while watching Revenge of the Sith in the theaters was that I always had trouble with Palpatine revealing himself to Anakin like that, it felt so clunky and awkward and I just chalked it up to George Lucas saying so himself, that he writes scenes to move the story along. I love his work, but he's not always the smoothest writer. "But why would Palpatine reveal himself like that? Just blurt it out, knowing that Anakin wants to kill him? Because Anakin very much did want to kill the Sith Lord they'd been searching for! Knowing that Anakin might very well go tell the Jedi about him and they'd have an excuse to fight him directly?? He's usually so much more careful than that! This is just silly!" But thinking about Palpatine's masterful manipulation of Anakin in the other scenes (his story about Plagueis being designed to crack Anakin's moral foundation, his forcing the Jedi to put Anakin on the Council knowing they would object and use it to spy on him because he's aware they don't trust him, he says right to Anakin that he knows they're plotting against him and asked Anakin to spy on him, he knew that was what was going to happen, his suggesting Anakin be the one to go to Utapau knowing that they would choose someone better suited to it, etc.) I had a sudden brick to the face moment. Oh, shit, wait, no, he wanted Anakin to go to the Jedi! He wanted them to try to arrest him and then fight him, so he could say they were planning a coup and to force Anakin into a chaotic moment where he had no time to think, only to react, knowing that he would side with Palpatine out of fear of losing Padme. EVERYTHING Palpatine does with Anakin in that movie is a manipulation to get him right where Darth Sidious wants him. Even the parts that seem like he's suddenly overplaying his hand, no, he's doing that on purpose because he's setting up the dominoes so he can knock them down. And he needs Anakin to at least not be against him because, as he says, Anakin will be more powerful than all of them one day. No one can stand against him if Anakin is either with him or off the board by staying behind at the Temple. Because Palpatine has to get rid of the Jedi, it's not just revenge, it's because they're the only ones who can actually rival him. He may be one of the strongest Force users in the galaxy, but even he couldn't stand against 10,000 of them, especially not if Mace may very well have actually won that fight without Anakin's interference. Whatever happened, he needed to force that confrontation and he did it in the way that appealed to Anakin to save him, because he knew the Jedi wouldn't let him live, and Anakin might fight him, but he wouldn't do so whole-heartedly if Palpatine was making sad grandpa eyes at him and saying, "I beg you, use my knowledge to save Padme." That reveal isn't a scene written just to move the movie along, it's another chess move by Palpatine to force the situation into the end game, now that Dooku and Grievous were dead and he wanted his Empire to rise now.

[monstersholygrail]

HIMBO MERMAN?! SOLD!!!

RAAAAAAAA. RIGHT!!!!! UGH FUCK! I love a good Himbo monster. They’re the best.

The moment Himbo Merman sees you on land he mistakes you for a creature of the deep ocean. Now creatures of the deep ocean are said to be the most lovely, breathtaking, and cherished creatures of the ocean.

Due to the cold of the deep waters, not many survive down there. So not only are they rare to spot but even more rare to mate with. When there is a mating, that merperson is seen as the luckiest of males or females to have found such a mate. Mates of the deep ocean are doted on, fought over, and worshipped.

Beyond their sheer beauty, their bodies are lusted over. Merpeople having gone feral over the possibility of feeling one of these creatures beneath their palms. In order to weather the cold, their bodies are plump with the most beautiful layers of fat. The curves and rolls that fill their wide frames are akin to the most gorgeous seamounts. It is the most lovely sight a merperson can witness to see a creature of the deep ocean bare, their perfect bodies exposed to them in all their glory.

So the moment Himbo Merman sees you taking care of the nearby Lighthouse, he grows confused. You shouldn’t be on land where anything could happen to you. No, you needed to be in the ocean where you’d have a whole pod of merfolk to see to your every need and protect you.

Himbo Merman was always close with the old man who lives in the Lighthouse. He never thought someone as kind as him would’ve ever taken a creature of the ocean and kept them on land to live as a human. A sense of betrayal flickers in his chest and it fuels him to do something.

He may not have his pod with him to protect you but you have him and he’ll do what he must. He’ll save you. Take you with him to his cave and make sure another human can never harm you… and not once does he ever consider that he’s about to kidnap a human.

[luna-azzurra]

Write Rivals With Chemistry So Hot It Hurts

╰ Rivalry isn’t hate — it’s obsession True rivals aren't just like, “ugh, I dislike you.” They’re watching each other. Studying. Matching moves. Thinking about each other when they shouldn’t. Hating how much they notice the other person. Rivalry is two sides of the same coin: hatred’s messy little sibling is fascination.

╰ Let them know exactly where to hit—and hesitate The best rivals know exactly where to stick the knife. Childhood wounds. Secret fears. Insecurities no one else sees. But the most powerful moment isn't when they stab, it's when they hesitate. When they flinch. When the reader sees the care underneath the kill shot.

╰ Make every win personal Every victory between rivals should feel like flirting with a knife’s edge. They don't just beat each other; they get under each other's skin. "I outsmarted you" translates directly to "I'm the only one who really sees you." (And no, they're not ready to talk about why that makes them insane.)

╰ Layer the attraction under everything You don't have to write "he found her hot" every five seconds. (Please don't.) Just lace it into the friction. The way they notice each other’s hands. The way a sarcastic smile feels like a slap and a kiss at the same time. Let it be unspoken, which somehow makes it ten times louder.

╰ Give them one private, honest moment and then destroy them for it That one late-night conversation. That brush of honesty. That accidental partnership in a bar fight. That glimpse of trust that leaves them both raw and feral because now it’s personal. Now it hurts. And guess what? Neither of them is stable enough to handle it like adults.

╰ Let them wound each other in ways no one else can Rivals with chemistry are like: “I know your softest place. I know where you hurt. And maybe I’m the only one who could ever touch it.” Terrifying. Intimate. Sexy. Self-destructive. Delicious.

╰ Don’t make it easy to flip to love If they hook up too soon, it’s cheap. If they confess too soon, it’s fake. They have to fight it. They have to screw it up. They have to almost kiss and almost kill each other in the same breath. The reward is sweeter because it’s hard won.

╰ Make them jealous, but make it messy Not cutesy "oh no I'm jealous" moments. Ugly jealousy. Pride-shredding, shame-inducing jealousy. Watching their rival smile at someone else and feeling like they're drowning in acid and denial. Bonus points if they pretend they’re above it and then spiral anyway.

╰ Tension isn’t just in the fighting—it’s in the silences It’s the stare across the room that says “I hate you and I want you” with zero words. It’s the hand that lingers a second too long after pulling them out of danger. It's the unsent text. It's the "accidental" meeting. Sometimes not speaking burns hotter than the screaming matches.

╰ Remember, they don’t want to ruin each other, they want to matter At the core of a rival/chemistry dynamic is one brutal truth: “I want to matter to you more than anyone else does.” And they’ll deny it. And fight it. And wreck themselves over it. (And we, as the readers, will eat it with a goddamn spoon.)

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: light daddy kink Flashback to the first time Captain Riley met Raspberry girl.

The bakery is slow. 

He’s only been coming here for a few days, but he’s already figured out the best time to stop by so he can avoid the crowd. Before eight hundred, it’s always packed, too many people in line for tea, coffee, breakfast, pastries, half of them headed to base, the other half to somewhere else. 

He starts his day early, and then swings out here for a mid morning breakfast, or coffee, depending on how his day has gone. Usually, it’s filled with paperwork and overseeing training exercises, all of it as boring as the next. He welcomes the reprieve of a pastry, a togo container closed over a massive raspberry sweet roll (or two) that he usually eats in truck before he makes it back to base. It’s hard to leave it alone when it’s sitting in the passenger seat, waiting for him. He fucking dreams about things at this point, their sweet dough and cream cheese icing, raspberry jam, he assumes, swirled in every layer. If he’s lucky, he arrives just after or before a new batch is brought out, and they’re still hot. 

A few tables are occupied inside, people with headphones in clicking away on laptops, or casually chatting over a tea. It’s never too quiet here which he appreciates, there’s always music flowing, and noise coming from what he assumes is the kitchen, hidden behind a typical swing door you’d see in any restaurant. 

The familiarity is comfortable. There are no surprises, usually. 

Except today, something new catches his eye. 

You. 

You’re holding a plate of flaky pastries of some kind, standing at the edge of the counter. Mara, the girl who usually works the register, makes coffees and teas, plates or packages things from the case, is giving you her full attention as you speak. 

You stun him. Perfect from head to toe, beautiful in a way that’s making him believe you were created just for him. 

A possessive pulse pounds under his jaw. Locked in just at the sight of you. 

“They have nuts in them. Almonds. But they’re sl-slivers, so they’re just… they’re hard to see. So uh… make sure I guess, that people know?” 

“Okay, I’ll put it on the sign.” She holds the little placard up and you nod approvingly. 

“Right.” Like you’ve been holding your breath this entire time, your chest deflates shakily. Gun shy. Anxious. Fearful. 

Precious thing. 

That craving inside him perks up, hones in. Heat seeking missile. 

For once, it’s not only sexual. Not only about keeping someone for the night, the morning, putting all his energy and care into them just to cut that cord, close himself off and send them on the way. 

No. This is different. This is more. 

“Can I get one of those to go?” The guy waiting at the counter in front of him points to the plate. “Almond croissants, right?” You tense. There’s a lapse, and he can see your gears turning, sifting, before finally settling on something. 

“Sure?” 

“Sure I can get one, or sure they’re almond croissants.” You flinch. It would be hardly noticeable to someone else, but to him, it reveals another piece of the puzzle. You picked the wrong thing. He knows could soothe this burn, honor these parts of you that don’t seem to fit in, keep your mind, your heart, safe. Love you in the ways you desperately need. 

“Oh. Yes.” You nod, sliding one into the bag and pushing it across the counter as Mara cashes the man out, only looking up once he’s turned to leave. 

It only takes a second before you’re locking eyes with him. 

You freeze, and swears there’s a whisper of a whimper. Mara gives you a curious look, and then follows your line of sight right to him, her mouth quirking to the side in a small smile. Your hands clasp together at your waist, fingers interwoven. Immediately, they clench around one another so tight, he wonders if it’s hurting you. He wants to pull them apart, cover them with his own, hold them. Hold you. 

His instincts are churned up. They scream at him, trying to run away with a fantasy of a future. 

He thinks briefly of John and Grace, his old captain’s little blueberry pie, a sweet girl watching a movie and curled up on her daddy’s lap. His jealously is not from a desire of Grace herself, but of the relationship, the life John has carved out for himself, the purpose, the control, the ability to tend and care for someone who can give themselves so endlessly, be so trusting they let all their defenses go and fully let go. The love.

He’s never thought it was the right time for him, but now he knows he was wrong. It was never about the right time. 

It was always about finding you. 

Mara must see something, because she clears her throat and says your name, nodding in his direction. 

“This is Captain Riley.” Military brat, she knows the rank of every uniformed person who sets foot in here, and always addresses them as such. You gulp. 

“It’s n-nice to meet you.” Mara fills the gap quickly, nonchalantly, trying to ease your discomfort. 

“Captain Riley is the one who buys out all the raspberry rolls.” You brighten. 

“Really?” His chuckle rumbles in this throat. 

“Really. Think I eat two or three a day now." He pats his stomach, and you grin, before it gets lost immediately, unsure, glancing at the ground. 

“G-good, That’s… I’m glad.” It’s enough of a starting point. He can’t push too hard. You’re already trembling, looking up at him now, both with trepidation and wonder. Mara’s boxed up his order, quietly placing it in front of you, and you’re careful when you pick it up, handing it over like you’re handling a bomb, lips parting when he touches you. He forces the contact, intentionally brushing his fingers against yours, pleased when there’s an immediate reaction, a sharp inhale, a bob of your throat. He gives you a very gentle smile. 

“Thank you sweetheart.” Your eyes go incredibly wide, and you squeak. 

“You’re welcome!” He’s unable to get another word out fast enough before you’re practically running into the kitchen, door swinging wide enough for him to see just inside, eyes like saucers, nervous smile stretched across your face, your hands brushing your apron repeatedly, even though the batter and flour crusted on it doesn’t move. 

Precious, sweet little girl. 

You need someone to take care of you. Someone who will carve out space for you to exist, without fear. Someone who will understand your needs and instead of trying to force you to go where you don’t fit, they’ll protect you, encourage you, hold your hand. Someone who will build you a castle, a fortress, an entire world, just so you can be yourself, be happy as yourself, not a person the world wants to change. 

You need him. 

You need a daddy. 

[ellewritesx]

possession agreement

(part three of the sugar, baby series)

Summary: Jealousy brought him to the bar. Possession dragged you into his lap.

Warnings: sugardaddy arrangement, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), kind of a size kink, choking kink, some light stalking, jealous and possessive behavior, slutshaming, lots of feels

A/N: thank you guys so much for the love on the series so far! i've gotten a lot of requests to be added to the tag list, so if i've accidentally overlooked yours, just let me know :) hope you like this one. don't cheer too soon. good luck x

Word Count: 4,851

...

He sees you before you see him.

The bar is crowded, low amber lighting pressing warm against your sweaty skin and hazy music rattling deeply in your ribs. You're loosely cradling a drink, something pink and sweet, wrapped in an emerald green dress with iridescent sequins, so short it barely clings to your thighs, cinched at the waist and hugging every inch of your body like it was poured onto your skin.

It's a new dress, bought two days ago with the little black card that Harry had tossed in front of you on the bed one night, like it meant nothing. ''Just use it'', he'd said. ''Buy whatever you want.''

And that you did. You've always been so obedient, so eager to please. It's one of the reasons your arrangement works so well. But lately, the transactions have started to blur into something... different. It's not just groceries and bus tickets and rent anymore. Not just the careful, predictable spending of someone just taking what they need.

Now it's glossy department store visits, spontaneous dinners for one at upscale restaurants, even spa days and yoga retreats. Designer perfume that clings to your skin. Heels that cost more than your rent. Dresses that shimmer in the dark.

He'd noticed the changes in you. All the little shifts.

Your perfume was the first thing that changed. Sweet, like you, expensive in a way that clings, notes of vanilla and jasmine, and something more adventurous he can't quite name.

It lingers in his car after he drops you off. Lingers even longer in his sheets. The first time it happened, he caught himself burrowing into the pillow you had laid on, inhaling so deeply it left him light-headed. He changed the linens the next morning with a scowl, told himself it was distracting. Unprofessional.

He tried to blame this momentary lapse of judgment on the perfume, on its tenacity, its price tag. But he knew. It wasn't about the perfume. It was you.

The way your voice softens when you say his name, a tone you save just for him. The way your smile twitches when you try not to laugh at the noises of complaint he makes when you leave the bed. The way you're always so kind to him, even when he's cold or harsh or difficult. He doesn't know what to do with that kind of softness. That kind of grace. Especially when it's directed at him.

You've changed, he can see it in the way you carry yourself, the way you walk into a room with your chin up a little higher. But you're still the same at your core. Still shy when he mentions sex outside the bedroom, just a passing comment, really, a teasing whisper in your ear when you're cooking or reading a book. Still thanking him every time he buys you something as simple as a coffee, even though he always rolls his eyes and mutters ''it's part of the deal, baby''. Still too gentle for this world. Still too good for him.

And the lingerie... fuck. He's seen the credit card charges. Little things that cost hundreds, maybe thousands, of pounds. And he knows it's for him. You never say it, but you only wear them when you know he'll be the one undressing you.

He fucking loves it.

The timid smile on your face when he tugs off your hoodie, revealing the sheer, shimmering little things that look painted onto your skin like he's unwrapping a present. Pearlescent mesh that cups your tits like a second skin, thin garters that dig into the plush curve of your thighs, delicate embroidery right where his mouth loves to be. You never say much when he peels it off, just blush and look up at him like you're waiting for his approval. He always grins. ''Fuckin' love that you wear my money like this.''

You moan when he tells you how gorgeous you look. You shiver when he mutters how good it feels knowing no one else gets to see you like this. Sometimes, when he's buried between your thighs, he thinks about snapping photos, keeping a private collection, but he reckons you wouldn't allow him.

After all, even after all these weeks of tangled limbs and messy sheets, you still won't let him fuck you, not properly. Not the way he wants to. Needs to. You'd always politely stopped him when things started to slip too far, and he'd respected that, without question, without pressure. Never asked why.

Until one night, after you'd melted beneath his mouth, trying to catch your breath, when he'd propped up his face on one hand, stroking your arm in slow, lazy circles with the other. He'd asked, quiet and curious, ''Why d'you always stop me, baby?'' Not accusing, not frustrated, just genuinely wondering.

You'd been shy about it. Said it softly, hesitantly. That you just wanted to get to know him better before doing something that intimate. That it wasn't about him, not at all. That it just meant more to you. He'd never thought of sex as anything but a release, as friction and sweat and a way to shut off his brain, and he'd felt something odd curl in his chest at your words. Not annoyance. Not rejection. Just… respect. Maybe even admiration. You saw sex as special, sacred, and for once, he wanted to deserve that. Deserve you.

God, what was he turning into?

The question lingers in the back of his mind as he watches you from his shadowed corner near the back of the bar, hidden by the low-hanging bulbs and velvet curtains, eyes tracking you like a sniper with his jaw set and his knuckles white.

You're blissfully unaware. You sip your cocktail, lips glossed and sticky around the rim, smiling at something on your phone as if you don't feel the heat of a dozen gazes trained on your body. You don't even seem to notice the way all the men in the bar study your every movement. You don't hear the way the women whisper in jealousy about your dress, your confidence. A girl who could get anything she wants with just a bat of her eyelashes.

He hadn't planned to come. You hadn't even told him where you'd be. You hadn't needed to. He always finds out.

The moment he saw the tag from your new dress in the trash and the ridiculously high charge made to his credit card, he knew. You were out. Without him. In that dress, on his dime.

You laugh at something the barista says, the sound bright and genuine, and his throat tightens. God, you're pretty. That's the worst part. You're pretty and kind and so stupidly innocent about it all, like you don't realize what you do to people when you walk into a room. Like you don't realize what you do to him.

He ducks into the men's bathroom quickly, just to splash cold water in his face, just to try to snap himself out of whatever trance you've seemed to put him in. Get it together, Harry.

He swiftly slides back into his booth when he returns, and for a second he debates going up to you, making sure that everyone sees that he's the one taking you home at the end of the night.

Then the guy approaches.

He's tall. Closer to your age than Harry is. Clean-shaven and grinning like he actually believes he has a chance. Harry leans forward slightly, eyes narrowing as he watches the stranger slide into your space, hand braced casually on the bar beside your elbow.

''Hey,'' he says, voice cocky but smooth, sounding charming enough to hide the hint of arrogance. ''I was gonna wait for your boyfriend to come back from the bathroom, but… I figured, screw it. Mind if I buy your next drink?''

You blink up at him, a little surprised, but you smile sweetly at him nonetheless. ''Actually, I'm here alone.''

That goes straight to Harry's gut. Alone. You're here alone, looking like that. Wearing his money. Sitting pretty on a barstool like a trophy someone forgot to take home and worship. His jaw ticks.

''Damn,'' the guy says, clearly pleased. ''Lucky me, then. You're so hot, I can't believe no one's snatched you up yet.''

You smile politely, but Harry can see the offense etching its way into your skin, a delicate frown sitting on your pretty face. That's my girl, he thinks. He'd learned early on into your arrangement that you didn't appreciate being degraded or objectified, and he'd nearly lost his family jewels the first time he called you ''hot''. ''I'm not a cup of tea, Harry'', you'd told him defiantly.

''No, I mean it,'' the guy presses, inching closer. ''It's like you walked in and I forgot what I was doing. I've been watching you the whole time, just couldn't take my eyes off you.''

Your smile falters just slightly. Harry sees it. The way your fingers tighten around your glass. The way you glance away, uncertain, uncomfortable. But the guy keeps going.

''Listen, I know this is forward, but do you wanna get out of here? Maybe hit another place with better music? Or straight to my place, if you'd prefer,'' he asks confidently.

Harry's up before he realizes it, drink forgotten on the table behind him. The blood in his veins is cold, electric, every muscle in his body pulled taut like a wire. He's on autopilot as he cuts through the bar, ignoring the brush of shoulders, the flicker of stares.

His only focus is you. His girl and a stranger who clearly has no idea what he's playing with.

He stops just behind you, hand curling around your waist, fingers splaying possessively across the curve of your side.

''She's taken.''

His voice is low. Rough. Measured, but only just. A breath away from breaking this man's nose.

You go stiff in his grip. Your eyes snap to his, wide, caught somewhere between shock and relief. The guy blinks, taking a step back with his hands raised.

''Look, man, she said she was alone—''

''And now she's not. Move.'' His eyebrows raise, the look on his face saying ''try me. I dare you.''

The guy swallows and stammers something, but he's already turning to retreat. You open your mouth, debating whether to strangle Harry for following you here or kiss him for saving you from that creep.

But Harry doesn't give you the chance to speak. His hand clamps around your wrist, not hard enough to hurt, but with enough pressure to make it clear; you're leaving.

''Harry—'' you start, but he's already dragging you through the crowd, jaw locked, pace fast. You trip slightly in your heels, breath catching as you stumble after him.

The door slams open with a sharp crack, rain sweeping in around you both like it's part of his fury. He storms out first, and you stumble after him, heels clicking sharply against the wet pavement, glittering dress clinging tighter to your skin with each second.

The streetlights blur with water, casting gold halos onto the slick pavement. He doesn't let go of you even as the rain soaks your clothes. He doesn't even look at you. Just paces a few feet away, running a hand through his damp hair like it might somehow tame the chaos boiling inside him.

''What the fuck were you thinking?'' His voice is thunderous, splitting the air like the lightning that's blocks away from you. He finally turns to face you, jaw clenched, lips curled in a frustrated snarl. ''Out. Alone. Dressed like that? Do you have any idea what kind of creeps hang around places like this?''

Your heart is racing, not just from the cold or the scolding, but from the abruptness of it all, how you'd gone from laughing over a cocktail to being dragged out like a misbehaving child.

''Excuse me?'' You blink against the rain, glaring at him through your soaked lashes. ''I was having a drink. I was fine.''

He scoffs, taking a step closer. ''You call that fine? That guy was three seconds away from dragging you into a fucking alley. And you were smiling at him. Entertaining his delusions. You're a woman, for God's sake. Don't you know better than to engage with men like that?''

You huff out a bitter laugh. ''Men like what, Harry? Men who find my location, who watch me from dark corners?''

''I was keeping an eye on you!''

''You were stalking me.''

''Well, apparently I have to, because you don't seem to have any survival instincts whatsoever.''

''I was being polite!''

''You were flirting.''

You throw your hands up in exasperation. He's behaving like a petulant child. ''And what if I was? It's not like you're my boyfriend.''

That hits him like a slap in the face. He smiles tight-lipped, bitter. ''Right. Not like I have a say, right? Because I'm just the guy funding your new lifestyle, paying for your little wardrobe, all those fucking slutty dresses—''

''Are you seriously throwing that in my face right now?'' You spit back at him, offense settling deeper in your bones than the cold.

He doesn't say anything. He knows that comment was low, even for him, but he doesn't take it back. He can't, he's too deep in it now.

You take a shaky breath, fists curled at your sides. ''I didn't ask for any of that. You offered. You set the rules. The boundaries. Yet here you are, dragging me into the street like a jealous ex.''

His eyes widen slightly, running his hand through his soaked hair in frustration. ''I'm not jealous,'' he says defensively, but his voice lacks the conviction it usually carries.

''Bullshit.''

''I'm not.''

You tilt your head at him, voice growing quieter, the exhaustion seeping in. ''Then why are you out here? Why were you in there, Harry? Don't lie to me. I'll know.''

He flinches like you hit him, and for a second, he doesn't have an answer. Just stares at you, rain dripping down his temples as his drenched curls stick to his skin, his jaw tight.

You know you've hit the nail right on the head. There's no use pretending anymore. He can't stand the idea of someone else touching you, looking at you, even if he's the one who keeps you at arm's length. Even if he swore he didn't want anything more.

''I didn't like the way he was looking at you,'' he finally mutters under his breath, a hint of shame crawling up his neck.

You bite back the lump in your throat. ''Why?''

He opens his mouth to answer, then closes it again. His hands twitch at his sides, like he doesn't know whether to reach for you or push you away. He looks back at you, and the fury in his eyes is morphs into something softer as his gaze drops briefly to your dress, soaked through and clinging to every curve.

You're shivering now, teeth chattering every few seconds, hair sticking to your cheeks, mascara probably halfway down your face. You're trying so hard not to cry, not to shake, not to break in half in front of him. But he sees it.

''Fuck—'' he breathes, almost to himself. Like he can't believe he let it get this far. Let himself get this far. Setting boundaries and breaking them. Pushing you away but still kissing your skin.

Shoving his feelings so far down until it was too late to realize they'd consumed him.

He shrugs off his coat in one swift motion and steps forward before you can say a word. He drapes it around your shoulders and tugs it closed in the front, hands lingering a beat too long on the lapels. You stare at him, stunned, lips parted.

His hand lifts, almost hesitant, and brushes your soaked hair gently out of your face. The contact is soft, so impossibly soft after all that screaming. His palm lingers against your cheek, warm, even now.

He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing, and he's staring at you like he doesn't know what the hell to do with everything building behind his eyes. You nuzzle into his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his wrist.

You don't know who leans in first. Maybe you both do. Maybe it's instinct. Maybe it's fate.

Your lips crash into his like a dam breaking, weeks of tension and questions and all pouring out in one desperate collision. He freezes for a split second, like he hadn't considered this outcome, like he didn't know he was drowning until your lips pulled him to the surface. But then he's kissing you back with every ounce of heat and anger and longing he's buried beneath his rules.

One hand fists in your hair, the other at the small of your back, pressing you into him like he's terrified you'll vanish if there's even a sliver of distance between you. It's messy, wet, a little frantic, but it's real. Your arms slide around his neck, trembling hands clinging to the soaked collar of his shirt.

You've never done this before. Never kissed. Never crossed that invisible line. But now that it's happening, it feels inevitable. Like everything else was just leading up to this moment.

When he finally pulls back, you're both breathless. His chest is heaving. Your lips are swollen. His hands are still on you, fingers twitching like they don't want to let go. You look at him and see it in his eyes. The want. The fear. The guilt. The hope.

Neither of you says a word. You just stand there, shaking under his coat in the pouring rain, while your heart beats loud enough to drown out the thunder.

He doesn't speak as he suddenly pulls you through the downpour. Just stalks toward his car while you try to match his pace, your heels slipping on the slick asphalt, but he doesn't slow down. His hand is locked around your wrist like he's afraid you'll vanish if he lets go.

He tugs the door to the driver's seat open impatiently and practically throws himself in, dragging you with him, wet limbs tangling, your body landing hard against his in the cramped front seat.

The door slams shut behind you, muting the sound of the rain to a steady percussion against the roof, the storm now caged outside while another builds in the tight, humid air between you. You're both drenched, clothes sticking to your bodies like a second skin, breaths ragged, chests heaving.

Your knees hit either side of his hips, thighs sliding against his jeans as you straddle him awkwardly in the seat. His hands are already under your dress, bunching the fabric up to your waist with zero finesse, just raw impatience. ''Wore this to tease me?'' he hisses, jaw clenched, eyes dark as sin. ''Parading around in this tiny fucking dress like you don't belong to someone?''

''I don't belong to anyone,'' you retort defiantly, hating it when you're treated like an object, like a possession.

But right now, you're breathless, and you don't sound so convinced anymore. Not when you're rutting your hips down against the hard line of his cock in his jeans, not when your panties are clinging to you, wet from both the rain and your own arousal.

He barks out a laugh that's all raging jealousy and lust. ''Bullshit. You belong to me. This cunt belongs to me.''

You whimper at his vulgarity, grinding down harder. The windows start fogging up around the edges as his hands grip your ass, dragging your body against his. ''You're such a desperate little thing,'' he mutters, cock thick and straining beneath you. ''Bet you'd let me fuck you raw right now, wouldn't you? Right here in my fucking car. Don't care if people walk past and see, do you?''

You shake your head, drunk off him, dizzy from the filth in his voice, nuzzling your face into his shoulder.

''You're so fucked up for me, baby. Look at you. Letting me do this to you. Wish that fucking creep from the bar was here to see how you behave when it's just you and me. Fuckin' filthy, baby.''

Your hands shake pathetically as you work open his jeans. He helps, yanking the zipper down, pulling himself out with a hiss. And then… Jesus Christ.

Your mouth goes dry. You'd nearly forgotten how massive he is. Thick and veiny and already leaking at the tip, twitching against your thigh. You stare like you've never seen him before. How the hell is that going to fit inside of you?

He must see the flicker of nerves in your eyes because his voice softens just slightly, only for a second. ''You sure?'' he asks sternly, his hand skimming your thigh, eyes watching you like a hawk.

You nod. ''I want to. I just... Fuck, Harry, you're big.''

His jaw flexes with pride, but he doesn't comment on it. Instead, you feel him reach under your dress again, curling his fingers into the waistband of your panties and starts to drag them down.

''Up,'' he murmurs. ''Need these off you.''

You shift your weight onto your knees to help, thighs bracketing his hips as he tugs the soaked fabric down your legs. But as you sit up, spine straightening in the cramped car, your head smacks hard into the roof.

''Ow—fuck!'' you hiss, dropping back down on his lap instantly and grabbing the crown of your head with both hands.

Harry freezes. Then his lips twitch. Then he laughs.

''Shit, are you okay?'' he asks between chuckles, clearly trying and failing to stifle them, swatting your hands away to cradle the back of your head and inspect the damage.

You glare at him, shoving his shoulder when he presses a finger into the bruise that's surely forming on your scalp. ''Do I look okay?''

''You look like you just lost a fight with the ceiling, baby,'' he says, grinning now, voice warm with amusement.

You swat his chest, trying to look mad, but the corner of your mouth quirks too. ''Don't laugh, it hurts like a bitch.''

''Aw, c'mere.'' He pulls you forward into a kiss, soft and smiling. ''You're alright. I've got you.''

The lingering tension from your fight earlier melts away, and you let him take your panties the rest of the way off. Let him hold you steady again. Let yourself breathe.

His fingers brush through your soaked folds like he's checking how ready you are, and he hums in approval, almost smug. ''So wet for me already, baby. I barely even touched you.''

Your thighs twitch. He lines himself up with you, holds your hips, and begins to guide you down slowly. ''Just breathe, baby. Gonna go slow. Let me stretch you.''

You sink an inch. Then two. Then stop with a sharp inhale, your nails digging into his shoulders.

''Fuck, too much?''

You shake your head. Your walls are fluttering around him, pulsing tight as your body struggles to accommodate his size. But God, you want to. You want to take all of him. You want to be ruined by him.

''Just... give me a second,'' you whisper, barely able to speak.

And he does. He leans up, wraps one arm around you to pull you impossibly close, forcing your back to arch into him. He kisses your jaw. Your cheek. Your collarbone. Your shoulder. ''You're doing so good,'' he murmurs. ''So fucking good for me. My pretty girl.''

The praise knocks something loose in you. You grip the back of his neck, burying your face in his wet curls at the top of his head as you slowly start to sink down further, inch by inch. It burns, but it's good, thick and overwhelming, your slick easing the way.

''God, I can feel you squeezing me,'' he growls, forehead dropping to rest on your chest. ''Tight little cunt's choking me, baby. Fuck.''

By the time you've taken all of him, you feel split open, fuller than you ever thought possible. You both freeze there, chests heaving, soaking wet and panting. You clench around him instinctively and he moans, moans, like he's losing control.

''I've never let anyone ride me before,'' he pants, dragging his hands up your sides as you adjust. ''You know that?''

Your brows twitch up, surprised, your hand combing through his wet curls, his face still pressed against your boobs. ''Why?''

''Don't like giving up control,'' he admits. ''But fuck...You, I'd let you do anything. Look at you. Look at how pretty you are on my cock.''

Your lips part, stunned by the confession, by the way his voice strains at the edges, the hunger in his eyes when he pulls back up, looking at you like he's unraveling beneath you.

He rocks his hips up just slightly, and the friction sends sparks through your stomach. You brace your palms against his chest and start moving, slow at first, lifting your hips and dropping back down. He hisses between his teeth.

''Fuck, yes. That's it. Ride me, baby. Show me how bad you need it.''

You moan as you begin to find a rhythm, the tight squeeze and drag of him making your head spin. Every time you drop down, it feels like he's deeper, thicker, rubbing that spot that makes your vision blur.

One hand shoots to your throat, squeezing gently as his hips thrust up into you sharply. ''This what you wanted, huh?” he snarls, grip tight enough to make your breath catch. ''Wanted to tease me all night just so I'd fuck you like this?''

You nod desperately, moaning as his fingers flex at your neck. ''Harry, please.''

''You're mine,'' he growls, thrusting up into you harder now, no longer letting you lead. ''Mine to look at. Mine to touch. Mine to fuck.''

His possessiveness makes you clench hard around him, the struggle to breathe making you feel dizzy and depraved and his. You're barely keeping up anymore, your thighs burning, body trembling, but he's got you, one hand guiding your hips while the other keeps you tethered to him by the throat.

Your head falls back and he takes the opportunity to mark your neck, tongue dragging over your skin before he bites down and groans, ''Gonna come inside you, baby. Gonna fill you up so good. Let everyone know who you belong to.''

You cry out, slamming your hips down on his, his cock punching deep as he fucks up into you, harder now, rough and punishing.

''Tell me you're mine,'' he demands. ''Say it.''

''I'm yours,'' you sob. ''Harry, fuck, yours—''

That's all it takes.

He lets go, growling as he snaps his hips up again, again, again. You feel him spill inside you with a strangled curse, hot and endless, his entire body trembling beneath yours. He groans your name into your shoulder, arms wrapped tight around your back as if he could fuse your bodies together and keep you there.

His release spurs on your own, and he lets out a choked moan when you squeeze him, riding out the high, milking him of every last drop, as the coil in your stomach snaps.

You're shaking, both of you breathing heavy in the steamed-up car, rain pattering against the windows, your soaked dress still bunched around your waist.

And when you finally open your eyes and see the way he's still looking at you, jaw clenched, lashes wet, hand stroking your thigh possessively, you breath hitches.

He lets you linger against him for a second too long. You can feel the rapid thrum of his heart under your palm, the slight tremble in his fingers where they rest on your thigh. But then, just as you're starting to think this might mean something, he pulls away.

He gently nudges you off his lap, tucking himself back into his jeans, like the moment never even happened, and your stomach drops. He leans over the console to tug your crumpled dress down and fasten your seatbelt, avoiding your eyes the entire time.

''Hey... Are you okay?'' you ask, voice soft, dipping your head lower to get him to look at you, or at least catch a glimpse of his face, of what the hell he's thinking right now.

He pulls back, slumping into his seat and staring straight ahead, his eyes unreadable. ''Yeah. I'm fine. Let's just go.''

It stings more than it should. Not cruel, not dismissive exactly, just... closed off. As if something cracked open between you two, only for him to slam it shut again just as quickly.

And you wait. For a look, a soft smile, a brush of his fingers. Any kind of reassurance to soothe the ache of the subtle hint of regret in his voice. But nothing comes.

You nod slowly, swallowing the lump rising in your throat as he turns the key in the ignition, the air between you thick with everything left unsaid. ''Okay.''

...

thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕

sugar, baby series tag list

@indierockgirrl @prettygurl-2009 @cherryflavoredbyme @dipmeinhoneyh @haliastyless @drewrry @maddiesalvatore1839 @robinsue87 @zoraaasyd @sincerely-yours-marsbar @m0mmyfromtarget @maudie-duan

general tag list

@2601-london @mads3502 @angeldavis777 @run-for-the-hills @postsexfistbump

...

[spaceyaemonds]

pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: a quiet afternoon with dr. abbot.

warnings: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 23), unplanned pregnancy, jack is divorced, not a widower and mentions of his ex wife, it is mention that reader and her mom talk often. please let me know if i missed anything. minors DNI.

note: more of a filler chapter(i’ll consider this 6.5 instead of 7 LOL)!!! just a little look inside them, and we will definitely be seeing more soon!!! jack and reader will meet each others moms next chapter!! also, thinking about doing more drabbles set in this universe, like the proposal, is there anything specific you guys want to see?? unedited. and as always, any feedback is extremely appreciated, it helps keep me motivated. especially reblogs/comments/asks!

wc: 960ish

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Over the past eight weeks, you’ve just about changed Jack Abbot’s entire life.

He goes to a farmers market on Saturday’s, brunch on Sunday’s with your friends, actually eats decent meals and gets a good night's rest at least three nights a week.

Also, he’d never admit it outloud to anyone, but he’s pretty invested in Vanderpump Rules.

Currently, he’s got your feet in his lap while he reads a medical journal, one hand massaging your ankle. Every once in a while, he glances up at you to watch as you knit what he thinks is supposed to be a sweater.

Ever since finding out the gender of the baby almost a month ago, you’d been determined to at least make something for the baby to wear. You got good at knitting surprisingly quickly, and so far have made three hats, two pairs of socks, and started a blanket.

You’ve got your bottom lip tightly tucked into your teeth as you concentrate on the yarn in your hands, and before he can stop himself, he’s reaching over and gently thumbing it out from between your teeth.

Finally, he thinks to himself when you’re wide eyes meet his.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.” He gestures to your swelling bottom lip as you lick it.

“Sorry,” You let out a small giggle, “I didn’t even notice.”

He nods, hand going back to your ankle, “I figured.”

As he starts reading again, you take the time to watch him, head cocking to the side as you smile.

This hasn’t been so bad.

Sure, it’s been an interesting and difficult situation for both of you. But you like to believe that it could be worse.

He could’ve just not cared. Ignored you and went on with his life. Or pressured you into an abortion you didn’t want.

He could’ve done what he could to just take the baby the second she’s here.

But he really surprised you. He’s been so supportive and so good to you. It’s shocking, in all honesty.

You both feel a lot of guilt, though.

You think you’ve stuck him with you. That he’s only here out of obligation.

He thinks he’s ruined your life.

You work through it all, somehow. You talk him off his ledge more than he talks you off of yours, but you can tell when it’s eating at him more than he can with you.

Or so you think.

Jack likes to think he knows you pretty well despite the timeline of things.

He spends as much time as he can with you. Soaking up every moment of something he didn’t even think he ever wanted. Holds your hair back when you get sick. Rubs your back and feet when you ache. Tries some of the most interesting food combinations he’s ever heard of, some of which are better than others.

Fucks you when you’re insatiable and want him more than anything.

He isn’t quite sure it’s love yet, but he knows it’s on its way there.

He’s loved before. Hell he loved someone enough to marry her, but couldn’t love her enough to give her what you’re giving him.

Another source of guilt for him- one that he’s completely bared to you.

You didn’t know what to say, when he told you about what ate at him most. Why he couldn’t figure out what brought on the need, the desire, to do this with you, but he couldn’t even bring himself to try with her.

You just listen, rub his back, and whisper in his ear that some things just happened for a reason.

He appreciates you and the the way you just let him talk. Or just let him sit with you in silence. Whatever he needs, you somehow manage to give him.

One of the more recent favorites of his is when you take a bath. He can sit up against the cabinets under the vanity with a beer in his hand while you sit and talk about your day, things you want to do for the baby, or just read.

Life is more peaceful with you than he thinks it ever has been.

He glances back over at you, and sees the look in your eyes.

A look he knows all too well will result in him doing something he doesn’t exactly want to do.

“Spit it out, honey.”

You smile at the sound of his voice when he calls you honey.

“I was talking to my mom yesterday,” You trail off as he closes the journal he’s been reading and turns his body all toward you.

“Well?”

Jack knew your mom knew the basics, much like his own family did. How you got pregnant. How you met him. His age.

He knew that the last one had her concerned. Extremely.

The two of you talk most days, and she always gets distant when asking about the baby. Something about it makes him slightly uneasy.

“She’s coming to Pittsburgh next week. Wants us all to get together,” You look down, fidgeting with your fingers, “wants to meet you.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, making unease crawl up your chest.

It was a bad idea to bring it up.

“How do you feel about that?”

He sounds calm and collected, surprising you yet again.

“I mean, you are the father of her grandchild.”

You finally look back up at him, eyes meeting.

He sighs, shaky, “Is that all I am?”

You tilt your head to the side, “You tell me.”

It’s quiet for another beat before he shakes his head as he brings one of his palms to cradle your jaw.

“It’s only fair if you have to meet my mom, too.”

You laugh, nodding lightly before kissing his palm.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

He lets out a huff as he kisses the side of your head, “It’s a deal, then.”

[kayharrisons]

Will you go, lassie, go? [Remmick x fem!Reader] [18+] [1 of 11]

Remmick has been drifting for a decade now, aimlessly passing from one town to the next as he hunts and feeds and fucks and-

And. And. And.

One could go mad after a while with all those ands.

Loneliness threatens to consume him, to pull him right over the brink and into insanity.

Until, that is, he hears a voice sweeter than a nightingale's and with a haunting, melodic pain that buries itself deep in his chest and takes root there.

Until, that is, he meets you.

A/N: hey guys!! My first attempt at a Sinners fic o o p I LOVED the movie sm and Remmick was just 😩 😩 Jack O'Connell the man that you are fr!! Anyway, idk if I'll write a LOT for Sinners, my brain rot is still very much Romulus focused BUT HEY have this lil two shot for now! Scottish Reader x Remmick oh no oh DEAAAAAAR!!! I'm not a native Gaelic speaker by any means (I know a couple basic words lol), so any future Gaelic sentences will be in italics! This fic is set some time in the 20s before Sinners! Next chapter will be up soon hopefully!! Apologies if there's any mistakes we rock and roll buckaroo over here ✌️

Series warnings: younger woman (19-21) x older man (literal vampire), blood, biting, sexual acts, mentions of immigration and racist/xenophobic attitudes towards Scottish and Irish communities, colonisation mentions (Ireland in Remmick's past), manipulative Remmick, naive Reader, Remmick was at one point Jack the Ripper 💀

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Time.

It's a funny thing. Especially to someone like him, to someone with this affliction.

It both passes in the blink of an eye and goes by slower than those snails that used to infest his mother's garden when he was a boy. He can't remember her face much, but he remembers how she used to rant and rave over the little creatures as they ruined vegetables and plants she'd oh so painstakingly grown.

He's had many families over the centuries. Many mothers, many brothers, sisters.

The faces blend, sometimes, when you're as old as he.

His birth mother had eyes like his, he thinks. She had his laugh.

He recalls having been told, frequently, that he takes after his father.

He wonders if that was before or after his skull was cleaved in two. He can't recall his father's face before it was split in half like a log for the fire.

Fire. Warmth.

He misses that.

Misses sitting with his brothers and sisters around the hearth as their mother hummed lullabies in their native tongue. Síthmaith had been his favourite of the bunch, his precious sister only nine when her throat had been cut to the bone.

Remmick had been the oldest of the bunch.

He'd failed them, and this, he thinks, is retribution.

He's never done well without people to care for, could never cope knowing people were sad. His mother used to smile and call him her mo mhuirnin whenever she'd catch him being kind.

The last time in his human life that he'd been kind, he had invited a sobbing stranger inside of his home, a frail woman begging for shelter against Protestant brutes, could he please help her?

The children hadn't survived the turning. They never did, according to the woman.

His mother had taken one look at her dead children and screamed an almighty roar of agony before walking out into the sunlight.

Remmick can't remember his mother's voice anymore, but he remembers that scream.

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The centuries passed. He spent it learning, teaching himself.

He occupied himself with hobbies, with history, and eventually with song.

That was the one thing he'd never allowed himself to forget over the years. The act of putting pen to paper and letting pain spill out as ink, of taking the time to sit back and think of melodies, of chords and notes.

He loves to sing.

Sometimes, he can still hear his mother when he sings, can hear his siblings laughter around the fire.

There is rarely anyone around to hear him, however.

New families come and go; not everyone is suited to this way of life, a lot lack survival instinct he's found. Lovers are there for an hour or two or three, the ones that linger end up drained upon the bed, his songs still lingering in their dead ears.

Perhaps one time he'd been overzealous in Whitechapel, had earned himself a nasty moniker and had had to hastily retreat to the countryside for a few years all while the public pondered over the identity of this Ripper fellow.

Animal blood wasn't quite the same as a human's, it must be said.

It's rather like drinking tar, he's come to find. Unpleasant and thick down his throat. Only worth doing in a pinch.

He hasn't met anyone else who's even tried it.

The others he'd been with on the ship, the ones who had burnt brighter than the sun, had rolled their eyes at him for that admission.

Lions were not expected to eat plants and nothing more, so why should they?

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

He hasn't eaten in weeks.

He could. Easily. Easy pickings don't even begin to describe half of the people he's come across as he wanders the earth.

New York had been ripe with bodies, and he'd indulged himself more than necessary during the ten years he had spent there.

But his legs were leading him south. And who was he to go against them? Taken him this far, hadn't they?

He is curious to see the rest of the continent, to meet people, hear stories, to rebuild that which he's lost time and time again.

He can help people, like he used to, he can give them a family, can take all their petty human squabbles and differences and turn it into something good, can't he?

He hums to himself, a melody he has hazy memories of his mother singing. The words are lost to him now, taken from him by time, but he recalls the melody, at least.

Over and over, he hums, his fingers brushing over brick and stone and cold hard suburbia, before eventually his fingers run over trees and leaves and life itself.

He never did like cities much.

Remmick hums into the dimming light of the night, with no expectations of a response, an answer, of divine intervention.

He gets one anyway.

A little miracle in its own right.

"-the blooming heather, will ye go, lassie, go?"

His blood ignites in his veins just as brightly and fiery as it had the day he'd been turned into this.

If he had a pulse, he is sure it would be racing in his cold dead chest. If he could blush, he's sure the tips of his ears would be a burning red.

Your voice creeps through the trees like that of a fine mist, and it settles over him like dew on grass during a summer's morning. Refreshing, soothing, anchoring.

When was the last time he had felt anchored?

Voices, he's found, have a way of carrying stories, of harbouring emotions in a way that sometimes merely speaking doesn't even begin to encompass.

Sadness, anger, love, lust, loss-

It all sounded beautiful, in song.

Your voice reaches out like that of a beautiful plant, wraps around his soul like vines in the forest, takes root upon his very being like that of the strongest of trees.

Nature personified.

His pace quickens, the damp grass and dirt cliging to his bare feet, his hair sticking to his forehead.

He only wishes he was more presentable for you. Remmick is far from vain, but he's certain he's about to waltz into the den of perfection, an alter of beauty that would put Aphrodite herself to shame.

And he finds it.

Your back is to him, your hair is down loose around your shoulders. Your blouse is a few sizes too big and clings to your shoulders, your waist cinched by your skirt. You sway softly, like that of a flower in the breeze. Your fingers move effortlessly over the strings of your guitar, your voice having lowered to that of an airy hum.

He damn near almost collapses at the sight before him. Of such beauty here before him, untouched by the world outside of this forest. He's not a religious man, hasn't been in centuries, but Remmick is struck by the urge to collapse by your feet and cling to your skirts as if you were a Saint of utmost divinity, one he would swear his life and soul to.

Such natural, effortless beauty, and he hasn't even seen your face yet. Persephone can weep for all he cares.

A branch snaps beneath his feet, and your hair whips your face as you whirl around to face him.

Oh.

Oh.

Remmick staggers back a step, unusual for someone with supernatural grace on their side.

You're more radiant than a sunrise on a winter's day, more beautiful than poetry itself.

He could weep in your presence.

"Can I help you, sir?" you ask, pausing your guitar strumming and setting the instrument aside, leaning it against the tree beside you.

Your accent isn't from here. Scottish, the highlands, he thinks. He smiles at the sound, at the knowledge that he won't have to use that goddamn ridiculous Yank accent that helps him blend in.

"Aye, lass'," he nods, hands in his pockets as he steps closer. You watch him with a furrowed brow, with complete and utter confusion across your radiant face.

He stops short of you, leaning back against a tree, crossing his legs at the ankles as he studies you.

His eyes...

You straighten a hairs breadth, the same way one does when they spy a wolf in the distance, when you know a predator is watching you.

Remmick merely hums, unbothered at your reaction, even as his eyes gleam unnaturally in the darkness of the night.

"You can help me somethin' fierce, darlin'."

You smile, a touch uncertainly, your head cocked as you patiently wait for him to explain whatever it is he needs help with.

Remmick can only smile.

[heavenlybodies333]

Viagra, really? - S.R

Spencer Reid x coworker!reader

All you'd wanted was to satisfy a dumb curiosity—whether or not Viagra had an effect on women. It wasn’t like you were going to pop a whole pill and throw yourself at the next human being in sight. It was just a fun, stupid experiment for a boring Wednesday afternoon. You’d split the dose in half, dropped one into each of two steaming cups of black coffee—one for you, one for JJ—and left them on your desk while you stepped away to make Dr. Spencer Fucking Reid his usual. Like you did everyday.

The man had a freakish internal clock—he always took his second coffee at exactly 3:17 PM. You were the one who usually made it for him, and this time, that was your downfall. You had left your desk to go make his usual cup, completely forgetting you’d left the two tainted ones sitting there.

When you walked back in, everything went to hell. JJ looked chipper, a little pink in the cheeks, sipping from one of the cups. Spencer was holding the other spiked one. You stared at the third cup in your hand, the safe, non-Viagra-laced cup you’d made specifically for him, and your stomach dropped.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

He noticed you staring, eyes narrowing behind those glasses.“What?”

“Nothing!” you blurted, voice too high, too guilty. “Just—coffee. You know. Love it. Can’t live without it.” JJ gave you a sidelong glance over her cup, one eyebrow rising looking over at Reid, who of course, had already half-finished the drink.

Fifteen minutes later, he shifted in his seat. Twenty minutes in, he tugged at his tie. Cleared his throat. His cheeks were flushed. You didn’t want to believe it was happening, but it was.

The Viagra was definitely working.

At twenty-five minutes, Spencer Reid stopped typing mid-sentence. His hands froze over the keyboard. His brows knitted in concentration, he glanced at you. His expression unreadable. Then he stood abruptly. His chair rolled back. His hand pressed low to his stomach—almost reflexively—and he muttered, “I need to step out.”

You blinked. “What?” But he didn’t answer. He was already halfway to the hallway bathroom. You turned slowly to JJ. She looked back at you. Eyes wide. “Did he just—?”

“He drank yours,” you hissed. JJ nearly choked. “Then who—?”

“I have his.” You looked at the untouched cup beside you. “You took mine. He took yours.” JJ snorted so hard she had to cover her mouth. “Oh my God.”

“This isn’t funny!” you whisper-yelled.

“I can’t believe you accidentally drugged Reid!”

“I didn’t drug him! I—okay, technically, yes, I—” You groaned. “JJ. I gave Spence a goddamn boner pill.” You dropped your face into your hands.

It took him thirty-six minutes to come back. And when he did? You knew immediately. Because he knew. His eyes landed on you with laser precision. He didn’t speak, not at first. He just walked—calmly, slowly—over to your desk. You looked up, throat dry.

“You wanna tell me,” he said angrily hushed, “why I just spent half an hour in the men’s room trying to hide a completely inexplicable erection?”

You stared at him before looking around for JJ to be your saving grace, of course that bitch was nowhere to be found. “Spencer, I can explain—”

“Can you?” His voice was low, sharp. “Because the only logical explanation is that someone laced my coffee with sildenafil citrate.”

You winced. “We were just—curious. JJ and I.”

His jaw ticked. “We?”

“Look, I wasn’t trying to—” You fumbled. “It was for JJ and me! I made two cups, left them on my desk, and then went to get your usual—”

“And you didn’t think to label them?” His voice cracked at the end, furious and scandalized. “You didn’t think to mention the presence of a powerful vasodilator in the office kitchen?”

“Okay, you’re being dramatic.”

“I am hard in trousers I can’t stand up in.”

You bit your bottom lip. “Oh my God, Spencer—”

“Don’t use that tone—like I’m the one in the wrong here.”

You were fighting a laugh. He looked so mad, and so flushed, and so painfully, obviously turned on.

His slacks betrayed him completely. The sharp cut of his jacket couldn’t hide the tension in his body, couldn’t cover the way he shifted, subtle and controlled, like every move was an effort not to feel too much.

“Are you seriously mad at me?” you asked, voice low, eyes darting around.

He leaned in, his mouth near your ear. “I’m hard,” he whispered, “and I’ve been hard for forty-five minutes. You drugged me. You think this is funny?”

You swallowed. “No.” But your voice said otherwise.

“It’s not funny,” you said, grinning. “It’s just—”

“What?” His voice dropped. “It’s what?” He just sat there, visibly hard, visibly panicking, eyes darting toward his lap like his own body was betraying him in real time.

“Reid,” you whispered, “do you want me to take you somewhere private?”

“I—uh—what? No. I mean, yes, I just—” He exhaled sharply and pressed the heels of his palms into his thighs, like that would help the situation. “This is not... I don’t normally feel like this. Not around you. I mean, not because of you. Not—not that I don’t find you attractive, because you’re very attractive, obviously. It’s just—I wasn’t prepared for this. You dosed me.”

You tried not to laugh. “I didn’t dose you, I made a coffee laced with a questionable pharmaceutical as a joke for JJ, and you drank it.”

His eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t make it better.”

“No,” you agreed, biting your lip. “But it does make it kind of hot.”

He gawked. “Hot?”

You leaned in, your voice hushed. “You. Like this. All flustered and mad and trying really hard to pretend you're not turned on in front of me.”

He made a wounded, embarrassed sound and ran a hand through his hair. “Oh my god. You’re enjoying this.”

You tilted your head. “A little.”

“I could report you to HR,” he muttered, though it had no real bite. His cheeks were flushed, jaw tight with discomfort and... something else. He refused to meet your eyes.

“And what would you say?” you teased gently. “‘She accidentally gave me a hard-on in the middle of the bullpen and then looked too hot about it?’”

He groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You’re the worst.” you noticed he didn’t move away when you inched a little closer, nor did he stop you when you rested your hand lightly on his knee.

He looked down at it. Then up at you. And his voice cracked a little when he asked, “What... are you doing?”

You smiled. “Making it up to you.”

“You can’t just—just seduce your way out of this,” he stammered. “This is medical. Physiological. I—I’m experiencing venous occlusion and—and increased nitric oxide—”

“God, even flustered, you’re the most ridiculously hot person I’ve ever met,” you muttered, half to yourself.

He stared at you, lips parted. “Are you serious right now?”

You nodded, still smiling. “Dead serious.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Spence,” you said softly. “Just come with me. Somewhere private. I’ll take care of it.”

He hesitated. Eyes searching yours like he was weighing every possible outcome. Then he stood suddenly, stiffly, clearly trying to adjust himself without making it worse.

He stared at you. Then he looked toward Hotch’s office. Empty. Toward the hallway. Quiet. Back at you.

He grabbed your wrist. You barely had time to register it. He pulled you down the hallway, fast and quiet, past the copier, past the tech room, past the old conference wing. His grip was hot and firm around your wrist

You knew where he was going before you saw the door: Storage 4C – Surplus Tech.

Dead zone. No cameras. Half the time even Garcia forgot it existed. He pulled you in. Shut the door. Locked it. Watching him pace in a tight circle, he looked like he might combust.

“This is insane,” he said. “I’ve got dopamine overload, I can’t think straight, my pants—” He gestured wildly toward his zipper. “I can’t even sit down like this.”

You took a slow step toward him. “Then don’t sit down.” He opened his mouth—probably to ask what the hell you meant—but before he could speak, you dropped to your knees.

“Wh—what are you—” His voice cracked halfway through the sentence, sharp and panicked.

You looked up through your lashes, palms dragging slowly up the backs of his thighs. “You said you didn’t know what to do, right? So let me.” You reached up to undo his belt, watching the muscles in his stomach tighten beneath the fabric of his shirt.

“You don’t have to—” he choked out.

“I want to,” you said simply.

He made a soft, moan when you freed him from the confines of his slacks—thick and flushed, already straining with pressure. The tip was leaking, glistening, and you could tell just how sensitive he was by the way his thighs trembled the second your breath ghosted over his skin.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Oh my god.” You wrapped your fingers around the base and leaned in, licking a slow, teasing stripe up the underside of his cock. His whole body jolted.

One hand shot out instinctively and tangled in your hair, the other hovered helplessly in the air like he didn’t know what to do with himself. His head tipped back against the wall, breath ragged.

“Y-you’re gonna kill me,” he whispered.

You smiled around him as you took him into your mouth, slowly, letting him feel the heat, the suction, the way your tongue curled just right. He gasped—a sharp, disbelieving sound—and his hips jerked forward before he forced himself back, muttering a frantic, “Sorry—sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

You moaned around him in response, letting him know you liked it, and the sound dragged another whimper out of him.

He looked down at you, his face flushed, his lips parted, his expression somewhere between awe and desperation. His fingers tightened in your hair again when you took him deeper, your throat relaxing around him.

“God, you’re—” He cut off with a moan, teeth digging into his lower lip. “You feel... fuck, you feel so good.”

You bobbed your head slowly, deliberately, watching him unravel. He was panting now, trying and failing to keep it together. His knees buckled slightly and his grip in your hair more needy.

“I’m—I can’t—” he stammered, trying to pull you back gently. “You—you have to stop or I’m gonna—”

You hummed low in your throat, and that was it. His cock twitched in your mouth as he came. you sucked harder, mouth still wrapped around him, swallowing everything, hands steady on his hips while he sagged against the wall,

You let him go with one last slow drag of your tongue, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand like it was just another Tuesday.

His eyes were still closed when you stood. Like he couldn’t quite process as you leaned in close, your voice a whisper at his ear, “I said I’d fix it,” you murmured, “consider us even.” And then you turned and walked out—leaving him dazed, pants half-open, jaw slack, completely wrecked in the supply closet of the BAU.

No shame. Just the soft sound of your boots against the tile, echoing back to him

Spencer Reid didn’t move for a full five minutes. And when he finally did, all he could say was: “…Holy shit.”

a/n: omfg it’s confirmed Matthew is coming back for season 18 of criminal minds im losing my shit

⋆•★⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆★•⋆

[jarofstyles]

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?

[checkeredflagggs]

Family Vacation

Pairing: max verstappen x girlfriend!reader

summary: when max gets called to Milton Keyes, y/n takes the kids on a family vacation

a/n: requested! I changed the request just a little to better fit with the story but I hope you like jt!

Masterlist | Taglist | Rookies Masterlist

redbullracing

liked by user, user, user, and 1,823,238 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

redbullracing: the work never stops! But it is 2 parts work to 1 part naps…

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user1: sleepy max!

↳user2: oh my god it’s sleepy max

user3: ok but how many of those trophies are there because of max??

↳user4: oh so many…

↳user5: that’s our goat

user6: why is he in Milton Keyes??

↳user7: that’s his job??

↳user6: you can’t tell me he couldn’t do most of that from his home?

↳user7: why wouldn’t he go to hq?

↳user6: because his very pregnant girlfriend is at home???

↳user7:…oh

user8: man he’s jetting around isn’t he…

↳user9: what do you mean?

↳user8: y/n was live last night and the 2 of them were cooking together which means he had to have left for England late last night or very early this morning

user10: the vibes are off on this post…

↳user11: it’s because y/n hasn’t commented. usually she’s already here, making fun of max for his redbull obsession, his sleepiness…

↳user10: uh oh…

↳user11: uh oh indeed

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Private Messages, y/n and the kids

Bluesky

user12: Disneyland!!

user13: oh to be able to jet off to Disney whenever I want…

user14: Isn’t she like? Extremely pregnant?

↳user15: she is, yes. while they haven’t given an exact date (nor should they!) she was suspected to have been pregnant back around December

↳user16: is it safe for her to be there?

↳user17: I mean it’s her body and her baby but yeah? There’s a bunch of stuff she could do there that’s not rides — and even then there’s some rides she can still go on

user18: ok is anyone else gonna say something?

↳user19: that it’s very weird that she’s randomly taking the kids to Disneyland when max is still in England? And that she was very conspicuously absent from redbull’s last post??

↳user18: oh thank god it wasn’t just me…

↳user19: me thinks that someone is in the doghouse…

y/n

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 2,823,192 others

tagged: olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, jackdoohan, isackhadjar, gabrielbortoleto_, liamlawson30

y/n: Disney time with my sons 💜

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user20: is there an application I can fill out?

↳user21: Right? Like how do I join this family?

↳y/n: be a young race driver who the commentators of the sport won’t shut up about! Even though they should be professionals!

↳user21: dragging them for filth and they aren’t even here…

↳y/n: oh trust me they’re aware of my thoughts on them

oscarpiastri: I thought what we had meant something…

↳y/n: oh darling you are absolutely invited for the next family vacation but you’re currently in Australia

↳oscarpiastri: I will absolutely take you up on that 👍🏻

maxverstappen1: DISNEY??

this comment has been deleted

maxverstappen1: YOURE AT DISNEY???

this comment has been deleted

maxverstappen1: YOURE 8 MONTHS PREGANT WHAT ARE YOU DOING

this comment has been deleted

user22: did anyone else see max’s comments or was that just me?

↳y/n: it was just you babe

↳user22: …

↳user22: whatever you say queen! liked by y/n

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Private Messages, Max and the kids

y/n

liked by maxverstappen1, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, and 1,823,293 others

tagged: olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, jackdoohan, isackhadjar, gabrielbortoleto_, liamlawson30

y/n: the past few days 💜

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user23: love this!

olliebearman: thanks again for taking us!

↳y/n: it was a pleasure darling

↳user24: this is still the best thing to come out of this season…

maxverstappen1: i hope you had fun, mijn leeuwin

↳y/n: 💜

↳user25: still in the doghouse I see…

kimi.antonelli: best vacay ever!

↳y/n: I’m so glad you had fun sweetie

↳y/n: and I’m very glad I choose not to ride with you on the teacups

↳user26: how bad were they?

↳y/n: He and liam had a competition on who could get their teacup to go faster. Honestly I felt bad for isack and ollie but c’est la vie

↳isackhadjar: never again

↳olliebearman: I mean it was kinda fun…

↳gabrielbortoleto_: I’m glad I was with y/n

↳jackdoohan: same

user27: I spy with my little eye some animal plushies!

↳y/n: there were cats and lions…how could I resist?

↳user28: understandable. continue on

Private Messages, Max and y/n

y/n

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 3,129,283 others

y/n: everyone meet Nino!

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user29: I’ve only had Nino for 2 seconds but if something happened to him I’d kill everyone then myself

↳user30: seriously I’d help

charles_leclerc: i see you’ve seen the light

↳y/n: yes yes yes we now have a dog. don’t get a big head

↳charles_leclerc: it’s ok to admit you’re a copycat (let’s meet up soon)

↳y/n: it’s ok to admit you’re in love with max (come over whenever, just lmk)

↳user31: mom help me im scared — the wife and mistress are getting along liked by y/n, charles_leclerc

oscarpiastri: i demand a meeting with my new brother

↳y/n: you and Lily are always welcome

↳oscarpiastri: on our way now

alex_albon: welcome to the club

↳y/n: club?

↳alex_albon: the “we’re very close to owning a zoo club”

↳y/n: we have 3 cats and a dog

↳alex_albon: like I said — welcome to the club

maxverstappen1: ok when you said we needed to talk I didn’t think it was going to be because you got a dog

↳y/n: 🥹🥹🥹

↳maxverstappen1: he’s adorable liked by y/n

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[neeeooon]

Secretly Married!Sae headcanon: When an interviewer asks Sae about his martial status, Sae's answer is to pull out his marriage certificate... and giving his PR team their biggest headache to date.

absolutely i love husband!bllk 🩵🩵

a fool in love

secretly married!sae x gn!reader. fluff, slight crack hcs

secretly married!sae was ready to go home the moment he stepped out of the car at the fundraising event. if it was a real fundraiser supporting a real cause, maybe he’d care a little more

secretly married!sae didn’t care about helping the rich get richer. he just wanted to be with you

secretly married!sae kept his face blank as he followed his staff through the crowd to the carpet, eyes hooded and lips frowning despite the reporters and photographers screaming at him to smile

secretly married!sae stood at let the flash cover him until enough time had passed for him to move on

secretly married!sae planned to walk past the interviewers without sparing them any mind, but he made the mistake of glancing over at his teammates, all with fake smiles and gleaming makeup, and accidentally locked eyes with a particularly eager interviewer dressed in blue

secretly married!sae had a mic shoved at his mouth before he could back away. “sae, sae!” the giddy reporter shouted. “eagle-eye fans have noticed you posting more full body photos, as if someone is taking them for you. the angle is all the same, suggesting it’s the same person! can you tell us anything about that?”

secretly married!sae understood what they wanted to know. are you seeing anyone?

secretly married!sae, for the first time that night, let his lip twitch faintly upward. the interviewer’s eyes widened. “are y—“

secretly married!sae held his left hand up. he’d been keeping it from camera’s view after a long, threatening meeting with his pr team, where he refused to take it off

secretly married!sae made sure the reporter’s camera caught the simple black band around his ring finger. “my spouse loves taking my photos. it’s annoying,” he said with a fond smile

secretly married!sae stepped away and walked off the carpet as if he didn’t just drop the biggest bombshell in re al history. now to solve the real mystery: who had been able to get heartthrob itoshi sae to settle down?

[semperamans]

part three of loverboy!oscar is here! get ready for chaos! also!! i deeply apologize for how long it took to get this posted :'(

if you missed part two you can find it here! if you read and enjoy please let me know what you think! your comments keep my days oh so bright! hope you all are well!

xo, clo

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pias_lover_girl commented "what other things oscarpiastri my STOMACH HURTS."

mclaren commented "bring us home a souviner 🥹 we accept refridgerator magnets, snowglobes, and t-shirts."

↳ landonorris replied "i only accept signed CDs 🙂"

↳ pitstop_piastri replied "oh this was CRAZY LANDO SJFHSKDF"

ynsgirly commented "oscarpiastri what are your intentions with my daughter 🤨"

oscarsfearless89 commented "he is just a little boy in a big ole city i-"

tracksidebabe commented "the little smile after he said "other things planned" 🥺 hope he has the best time."

mclarendad72 commented "love this for him honestly, nothing like your first trip to new york city."

f1fanfiles commented "he looks like he’s actually excited for once lol bless"

futureyn_piastri commented "ik he won't be listening to that Shawn Mendes podcast..."

↳ ynforpresident replied "babygirl NO ONE is gonna listen to that."

liked by yourname_source, sc4rlett_44, bestofyn, oscarpiastri, morningwithyn, and others

yn_nation our girl was spotted out and about today! mayas_yn snapped these pics of our cutie gal outside of Bubby's Bakery on Hudson :') maya said yn was picking up some baked goods: a cake for an upcoming birthday and some cupcakes for her nieces who will be visiting her in the next few days :)

thank you for sharing, maya! 💌

view all 23,212 comments

bubbysbarista i served her this morning and she gave me and my coworkers $300 tips 😭😭

↳ sundaywithyn NOT HER OUT HERE CHANGING LIVES BEFORE NOON

↳ ynlover95 she's so sweet :( she's soft spoken :( her pockets deep as hell :( yn save me :(

↳ sc4rlett_44 ugh ☹️ it’s little moments like this that remind me why i’ve been a fan for so long.

piastrigirlies not to be That Person but… any chance she was with someone mayas_yn 👁️👁️

↳ mayas_yn she was alone :)

afterglowing81 honestly just happy to see her out and about, smiling and living her life — not hiding out or spiraling over shawn or any of that mess. growth looks really good on her 🤍

herefordrama i personally think she's just trying to save face and show up randomly doing good deed so we won't watch the Shawn podcast episode lol

↳ f1xynlore girl she bought baked goods for her nieces… not exactly a strategic media move 😭

↳ starryeyesandbutterflies did you activley seek out a yn fan account to leave a hate comment? YOU HAVE SO MUCH TIME ON YOUR HANDS I- FSHDFJKSDHF

↳ girlshush every time she breathes y’all get suspicious. therapy is calling. pick up.

↳ ynsdefense “doing good deeds” is wild behavior to accuse someone of. sorry she’s a decent human i guess?

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yourusername uploaded a story!

love4yn replied "your nieces are about to get the most emotionally regulated love known to man."

landoe04 replied “can’t wait to see uncle oscar in the next story 😇”

angelicyn replied "i volunteer to be one of your nieces thx"

shawnmendes replied "this made me smile."

papayapressure replied “we get it. you’re soft. you’re sweet. you’re just like us 🙄”

newintown replied "do the nieces know their aunt could sell out Madison Square Garden but is taking them hiking instead??"

shedoesntgohere replied “this gives ‘please think i’m a good person’ energy.”

yourbrother replied "still laughing at Cleo telling me that i don't get the vibe."

ynsgirl222 replied “just curious… are the kids the only ones you’re babysitting this week 👀”

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later...

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shawnmendes uploaded a story!

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liked by hattie_piastri, oscarpiastri, sophie_matteson, mia.reinhart, yourbestfriend, and others

edie_pia kicked off my second decade with cake, watching noodle fall in love with my big brother, expensive dinners (thank u mclaren for writing his checks), and the best vibes. feeling loved, slightly over-caffeinated, and ready to take on my twenties 🧁

view all 2,421 comments

liv.rothman “thank u mclaren for writing his checks” IM CRYINGGGG

hattie_piastri love you so big, baby sister.

kayla.beech ugh i forgot to text you this morning but HAPPY BIRTHDAY you angel 😭🎉

f1butunwell happy birthday, Edie! We love your brother!

mclarenmeg wait this is oscar’s sister?? omg slay happy bday queen

↳ edie_pia no idk who that is sorry

↳ oscarpiastri same

mum.piastri My darling girl, I can hardly believe you're 20! It feels like just yesterday I was holding you in my arms, and yet my gray hairs might tell a different story... (They’re really piling up now!). Love you oodles and oodles. 💖

mclaren happy birthday, edie! 🎈

oscarpiastri happy birthday, ed. thanks for showing me how to jaywalk.

↳ edie_pia you still don't do it properly...? you apologize every single time 😒

↳ mum.pastri ... What? 🥲

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edie_pia uploaded a story!

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oscarandthegirlies replied "he is NOT back emotionally 💀 look at that GROUCHY FACE yn come get your man."

sector2slump replied "bro said good to be home like he’s trying to convince himself 😭"

ynpapayapress replied "i KNOW a man in emotional limbo when i see one"

markonmediums replied "my daughter said he’s giving abandoned golden retriever energy and i don't know what that means but i hope he chins up. good kid."

piastrisf1wife replied "he looks like someone just told him it’s media day for the third time in one week."

racedaybabe replied "jet lag hitting different huh"

lockuplads replied "he's so polite but you can tell he'd rather be anywhere else"

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liked by sydney_sweeney, rinasonline, chloebailey, phoebebridgers. oscarpiastri, yourbrother, and others

yourusername hello lovers! i was on double-duty this week - auntie yn x tour guide and i adored every minute of it. this was the first time my girls have visited me in the city and suffice to say, they loved it :') we chased down ice cream trucks, rode the carousel until our eyes were cross, bought way too many flowers (kidding, of course, you can never have too many), we made some new friends, ate pizza slices bigger than our heads, and had very serious discussions about what bubble wand color is superior (pink, of course).

these are the kinds of days i want to keep close. bare-faced and barefoot in central park. loud giggles and sticky fingers on sunlit sidewalks. big big smiles on two little faces :) the city feels like magic, again. thankful to these cuties for reminding me of that ♡

p.s. pls refer to the duck chart 🦆

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mclaren we'd like to formally offer you a position on our media team, the vibes are immaculate.

↳ yourusername only if my nieces can come too. they’re very invested in tire strategy now.

↳ yourbrother they are five and three - what about ME?! HELLO? LIFELONG F1 FAN?

↳ yourusername 🤔 mclaren... did you guys hear anything?

↳ mclaren 🙉

↳ ynbaby IM SCREAMING mclaren GIVE HIM A JOB. HE IS THE REASON WE ARE HERE.

futureyn_piastri no oscar pics? i know Lando is going to be disappointed :(

↳ landonorris real

piastri_panic ... duck chart?

↳ imwithnorris no i was about to say what the FUCK IS SHE TALKING ABOUT 😭

dramaqueen01 girl wrap it UP with this soft girl narrative we are tired

↳ oscpresso says the one who came on yn's page to start shit? okay lol

dualipa the hold you have on me is not normal

↳ yourusername text meeeee

orangehearted not to be fucking insane but that is the HAND of a MAN in slide two...

↳ pitstoppiastri 👀

↳ f1butunwell you guys are so fucking weird i hate it here

maggierogers so glad joy found you again 💕

ynupdates this whole post is giving indie movie directed by greta gerwig

piastrisbaby ngl kinda wish oscar was in this dump too 😭

↳ not_lando lets be real, he probably took half these pics

ynsunrise how do i audition to be your niece. i’m 27 and emotionally unavailable but i can love to bake, know every single one of your songs, and like f1

↳ yourusername i'll have my people contact yours

oscarpiastri 🦆

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landonorris uploaded a story!

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[luna-azzurra]

Ways I Show a Character Is Secretly Lonely (Even When Surrounded by People)

I love writing characters who insist they’re “fine” while clearly radiating the desperate energy of a dog left home alone for eight hours with no enrichment activities.

They laugh too loud at jokes that aren’t funny. And not just a chuckle—like full-blown sitcom audience laughter. Because if they laugh hard enough, maybe no one will notice the hollow echo inside.

They overshare weirdly fast. First conversation? Congrats, you now know about their third-grade trauma and their mom’s weird obsession with Tupperware. It’s like emotional diarrhea: uncontrollable, messy, and a cry for connection they don’t even realize they’re making.

They get way too invested in minor social interactions. The barista remembered their name? That’s the emotional highlight of their month now. They’re writing about it in their journal tonight.

They cling to any group or friend who gives them an ounce of attention. Book club? Bowling league? Interpretive dance class for introverts? They’re signing up just to hear someone say, “See you next week.”

They’re the ultimate “life of the party” but go home feeling like they were never actually seen. Because if you're entertaining enough, nobody looks too closely at the emptiness.

Their texts are weirdly enthusiastic at 2 a.m. "OMG WE HAVE TO HANG OUT!!!!" followed by weeks of silence. It’s not flakiness, it’s a tidal wave of loneliness crashing into a wall of shame.

They constantly post selfies, group photos, “Having so much fun!!” posts… and yet, somehow, you can smell the loneliness through the screen. (If you could bottle that vibe, it would smell like stale wine and unsent texts.)

They stay in bad relationships just to not feel alone. Red flags? They’ve knitted a full quilt out of them. Because someone is better than no one, right? (It’s not.)

They sabotage good relationships because vulnerability is scarier than loneliness. "If I push them away first, they can’t hurt me!" - them, crying alone on a Friday night, claiming they're just "enjoying some me-time."

They have this glazed look when people talk about “close friends.” Like they know what it’s supposed to feel like, but they’re running on Google Image results and secondhand memories from coming-of-age movies.