#her no matter who she dates (which is very sweet)

[theaquamarinearchives]

[ a day in the sun ― albedo & kafka ] "happy birthday, my love. may the sun shine in the sky only for you on this day - shall we take a walk?"cw. gn!reader, fluff, modern!au, established relationships, reader wears dresses, petnames (dear, baby), just some sickly sweet fluff overall, ooc kafka

aquamarine's findings. happy birthday to my dearest little dove, @heiayen !! i hope this day proves to be fruitful and kind to you. you deserve the world !! ♡

with the sun shining bright in a seemingly endless blue sky and spring in full bloom, ALBEDO had plenty of ideas for this special day - it was just his hardest decision deciding which one to go with or even more so, creating an itinerary just for you. unfortunately for him the moment klee had found it your birthday was approaching, she begged him to let her in on the plans. you truly are adored by that small girl.

your toes sink into fine grains of sand, warm beneath your steps with two blondes at your side. one is bouncing, her small hand grasping yours as she tries to tug you along the length of the beach. in her spare hand is a melting ice lolly you wish she would pay a few seconds more attention to now that it's starting to drip down her hand.

the other blond somehow can't contain the small smile on his face as he watches the pair of you, the way you're laughing and yet still sending worried glances at klee's ice lolly. he can imagine the sticky mess that she's going to create the moment she reaches for something - or someone - with that hand later.

"klee, give them a break or you'll hurt their arm," your lover tries to reason with the excited child who - at the prospect of hurting you - quickly lets go of your hand to run ahead, squealing as she kicks up sand, "are you okay, dear? she can be overwhelming."

"how often do you bring her to the beach? she acts like she's never seen it in her life." you find yourself musing as the young girl crouches down to inspect something. your curiosity peeks, wandering to crouch with her as you tilt your head. albedo watches the pair of you in intrigue, the way you are both tilting your heads like confused puppies.

albedo refrains from attempting to defend his little sister's overexcited actions and instead peers to see what has got the two of you in awe. a pile of neatly collected seashells in an array of shapes and colours, embedded into the sand. klee gasps, a chubby finger pointed at a particular pastel purple seashell and you also let out an excited noise - albeit a little quiet.

his blue eyes soften, that small smile from earlier widening on his face as mid-length blond locks tickle his eyelashes, the sea breeze drifting through them and creating an even more messy appearance. no matter how long he's been dating you, he can't seem to stop admiring you. his eyes dance over how the breeze carries your hair and the pretty summer dress you decided to wear for today, how your jewellery compliments every aspect of your outfit... how did he get so lucky?

he almost chuckles at his thoughts, his cheeks warming considerably and he wonders if he could blame the weather should klee's keen eyes notice. the artist is undeniably in love with you, after all you're the source material of a lot of his works now. he's familiar with your every crevice and detail, familiar with painting them delicately onto his canvas.

he wouldn't change that for the world when your sparkling eyes return to him, a happy smile on his face as you hold up a seashell to him, exclaiming excitedly as you fawn over something so simple and yet so treasurable.

━

you knew very well how your girlfriend's job worked and whilst you never interfered, you wished sometimes that she could spare you a glimpse of time outside of what her boss' 'scripts' leave you with. that's not to say she was a bad partner - oh no. regardless of that slightly insufferable teasing attitude she has, the one she always brings to the table in a light-hearted manner, you knew KAFKA loved you. perhaps more than she's willing to convey with words.

kafka follows her scripts intricately, never missing a detail right up until the last second. these control her days, creating schedules upon schedules she's never faltered to argue against nor break the habit. yet she fails to tell you that in the days leading up to your birthday, she'd been very much planning to do just that.

"you look beautiful," she chimes when you enter the lounge, pausing in your steps when your eyes meet hers. she quirks a brow, amused by the way your eyes widen in surprise, "what is it, baby?"

you squint, hesitant to approach your girlfriend - what did she have in mind? what was going on? usually at this hour, the shared house you live in together was filled with the melodic sounds of kafka's classical music and in turn, her own violin. slowly, your confusion regarding the silence of the house settles in as to why your girlfriend was here and not in her study.

"did you forget your own birthday?" kafka raises to her feet, shaking her head as a light laugh escapes her lips, "oh dear, we can't be having that - definitely not today."

the woman saunters closer to you, slim hands drifting over the curves of your body in that sundress as she smiles coyly, eyes glinting in the reflection of the sun through the open window. there was never any telling what your girlfriend had planned, with the woman being exceptional at keeping her schemes concealed and hidden safely in her mind. oh, how you'd pay to be inside her mind for a mere day.

"of course i didn't," you pout, awkwardly avoiding her gaze as she presses her forehead to yours. her hands settle on your hips, a hum coming from her chest as she examines your behaviour, "you're not-"

"in my study?" she cuts you off, finishing off your thoughts as your eyes snap up to meet hers again. they're glittering, filled with mirth and amusement as her fingers tap at your hips, shaking her head before she presses a soft kiss to your lips. it's demanding despite how soft it is, her grip on your waist tightening if only for a few seconds.

when you pull away for a moment of air, kafka hums yet again and straightens up, taking hold of your hand in her gloved one. the feel of leather sends a shiver down your spine, contrasting to the cared-for hands beneath them. the ones you knew were very much soft, gentle, smooth - and they knew your body equally as much, every inch and fibre of your being.

"the sun's out and i intend to spend this day in it - with you so come on. we're going on a walk and later you can choose dinner. today, elio's scripts are off the table."

the archives' notifications. @bisexuawolfsalt, @lovingluxury, @auroratumbles, @ryuryuryuyurboat, @soleillunne

@zamorazz, @zworllyx

© theaquamarinearchives 2024 ; reblogs appreciated. do not re-upload, translate, etc. my works on any platforms or feed any of my works to ai.

[luveline]

if you are looking for spencer and bombshell requests, what about the first time a girl flirts with spencer after they start dating, but bombshell is fully secure because she knows her worth and understands that he’s a catch? if you need more ideas i can squeeze my brain really hard

love ur brain pls keep squeezing it <3 fem!reader

You’re the cheesy girlfriend no one expects you to be. You change your phone contact for Spencer to ‘My Sweet Boyfriend’ with a heart, you hold his hand in stupid places (though you’d done that before, sometimes), you bring him coffee, you fluster when he kisses your cheek no matter your disposition —you're overwhelmed in the honeymoon phase, and everybody’s surprised. 

“That’s not very cool of you,” Morgan says, having noticed your ducked head, your smile dripping with a private pleasure and your cheek still shining with Spencer’s quick kiss. He’s gone to find plastic cutlery. 

“I’m not that cool when it comes to Spencer,” you say. 

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” 

Morgan is as pleased for you both finally getting together as anyone, even if he finds it foreign. It is weird to suddenly be openly in love with each other, and likely stranger for the team to see you in anything that isn’t total calm collection. 

“He’s so lovely.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Morgan says, more earnest now as he slaps a rolled sandwich down in front of you. “He’s a catch. I asked for no mayonnaise, was I supposed to do that?” 

Emily tucks her seat in next to yours. “He’s totally trapped by that secretary again, I hate to tell you.” 

You turn around. 

“Why would you tell her that?” Morgan asks. 

“What?” 

You peer out of the office door, where Spencer’s being chatted to by a stunningly attractive secretary. She has dark skin and darker hair, alluring almond eyes that light her sweetheart face with a bright charm. “Oh, she’s getting prettier,” you say. 

You’ve got Spencer Reid locked in. Nothing in you doubts that he’s currently infatuated with you. You don’t even care when he laughs at her joke, or when she dips her head bashfully toward him. 

“You better go and get your man,” Morgan says. 

“What for?” 

“She’s flirting hard,” JJ says. She’s only just looked up from her phone. “He’s gonna start blushing.” 

As if. You turn back to the table, unwrapping the paper from your sandwich with a happy sigh. Spencer looks so cute when he blushes, his cheeks turn pink and he smiles like he’s being tickled, it’s adorable. If that pretty secretary wants to do the hard work for you, it’s her prerogative. He’s your boyfriend. 

“I don’t need to do anything, he’s fine,” you say. 

You’re cutting your sandwich in half when you feel a presence behind your back. A familiar hand closes around your shoulder, a voice in your ear, “Thanks for nothing.” 

You giggle at his embarrassed tone, turning your face up to his, immediately delighted by his pink-tinged cheeks and neck. “You looked like you were having fun!” 

“You’re not gonna pretend to be mad?” he asks, leaning over you to open your sandwich. He pulls out a sad looking tomato and a similarly wilted slice of lettuce and closes it again. “Did you want a drink? I can’t believe you.” 

“Spencer, did you want me to come and get you?” you tease. 

“It would’ve been nice of you. Drink?” 

You laugh again, tugging him down by the wrist. “No, Spencer, I don’t want a drink, just sit down. What was I supposed to do? I’m not gonna pull her off of you.” 

“But why?” he asks, nearly not quite pouting. “She asked me if it was too hot in here for me.” He sits in the chair beside you, his hand dropping to the soft inside of your thigh as he leans in imploringly. “If you cared about me at all–”

Everybody laughs, including yourself. He’s clearly joking, and for once nobody on the team mistakes it for ineptitude, which seems to cheer him up. He gives your leg a rather bold squeeze considering who he is and where you are, and again when you gesture for him to lift his face to plant a kiss on the ridge of his jaw. “I do care about you, Spencer. Sorry I wasn’t jealous. Should we try again?” 

He turns your face away from your coworkers, eye to eye. “You’re making fun of me.” 

His hand trails to your elbow. “No,” you say, your skin tingling under his touch. 

“I don’t believe you. And I know you need a drink, they didn’t send your bottle of water. I didn’t manage to find those forks, either.” 

He gets up again. He hasn’t so much as glanced at his own food, patting your back in a promise that he’ll return before he edges out of the office and into the station’s bullpen. You take a smug bite of your sandwich. You can’t hide it.

“Told you,” you say once you’ve swallowed. You hadn’t needed to do anything, and you really aren’t worried about other women. “He likes me a lot.” 

“Understatement of the year.” 

You send Morgan a loving smile. When you glance over your shoulder, Spencer’s taking the long way through the office to the water cooler.

[cordeliawhohung]

a dad!simon scenario that @ghostslillady planted in my head awhile back that i can't stop thinking about and figured i'd share with you guys <3

dad!simon gives you twin boys and they are an utter handful. from the very moment they're born, they're getting into trouble, but it's nothing simon can't handle. it's not uncommon to see him holding both boys at once, as they fit perfectly in his arms. and god, you almost give him another child the first time you see him do this. the way he does it so effortlessly, how he quietly mumbles his thoughts to them as he goes about his day, turns you on in a way you don't think you could ever admit to him.

dad!simon insists on putting the boys into football the moment they're old enough. at first you were worried about them getting hurt, as they're toddlers after all, but when you see them running around on the field, their cleats slightly too big and their shin guards slipping with every step, you can't help but coo about how adorable they are.

dad!simon, on the other hand, doesn't coo at them. he's shouting, cheering, clapping his hands every time one of them scores a goal. you're certain he intimidates the other parents, but no one dares to tell him to quiet it down. every time they win a game, simon lifts both boys onto his shoulders and parades them around the field until their stomachs hurt from giggling so hard. no matter if they win or lose, he always treats the whole family to dinner or lunch after the games, because hard work should always be rewarded <3

dad!simon is a smart man, but the new methods of doing simple elementary level math dumbfounds this man. "why do all those fancy steps?" he asks, eyebrows furrowed. "it's how the teacher showed us," one of them responds. "goddamn waste of paper, that way," he curses. you make sure to have a talk with him about how often he uses "foul language" around the boys. you're honestly surprised their first words weren't "fuck" or "shit."

dad!simon gets you pregnant again by the time the boys turn four, and honestly you were surprised it didn't happen sooner. this pregnancy is much easier to deal with as it's not twins, and the two of you are pleased to find out its a girl. when she's born, simon holds her like she's the most precious thing in the world, and your boys are just as gentle with her. taking turns holding her with your supervision, placing kisses on top of her head just like they saw their daddy do.

dad!simon and you go to every single one of her dance recitals the moment she's old enough to be enrolled. she stumbles across the stage with the grace of a newborn fawn, and yet simon and the boys are clapping and whistling the loudest out of anyone in the crowd. he buys her flowers, which the boys end up stealing in order to give to her themselves.

dad!simon gave your boys his height, and they make sure to bring it up at any possible opportunity. always putting things too high up on the shelves, or leaning their elbows on top of your head. they've also picked up on simon's dry humor, and dinner time conversation is usually filled with a myriad of terrible puns and anti-jokes that leaves you rubbing your face and groaning. it only gets worse when your daughter joins in.

dad!simon and you worry a little bit about your kids as they get old enough to date. especially your daughter, who's too kind and sweet for her own good. so when the two of you get called to the school one day because the boys got into a fist fight with some other kid, neither of you were exactly surprised. figuring they had been fighting over some girl, you were taken aback to hear that they threw punches because of something someone said about their sister. "he called her a cunt because she wouldn't go out with him!" one of them exclaims, causing the teacher to gasp at such a vile word. "no one calls our sister that and gets away with it," the other one finishes. that was all simon needed to hear in order to excuse their behavior. he buys them the new video game they've been begging you get them as a prize. "good behavior should be rewarded," he says to you with a slight smirk.

dad!simon doesn't tone down his affection when you're around the kids. of course he's not doing anything grossly inappropriate, but he doesn't hide the quick kisses he gives you, and he's always surprising you with hugs from behind while you're chatting with the kids or making dinner. always giving you gifts, to his beautiful wife who gave him such an amazing family. and this rubs off on your children. the boys always treat their partners with the utmost respect, and your daughter knows not to take any shit from anyone who would make her feel smaller for being a girl.

dad!simon and you watch as your children grow up into amazing people, taking the world head on by themselves. he forever thanks you for giving him everything he could have ever asked for, something he thought would be forever out of his reach. and there's something a little bittersweet about the fact that they're no longer living at home with you, having become full grown adults with their own lives to live, but the cycle begins all over again by the time your first grandchild is born <3

[amsznn]

can you do a first time with matt? they’re not together yet but really like each other and hang out together a lot kinda vibe. she goes on a date with another guy to get her mind off of matt and when her date tries to take her home with him and have a one night stand, she’s super into it but then freaks out because she doesn’t feel safe and comfortable with the guy. the date kinda gets frustrated with the reader because she “led him on.” so she asks matt to come and pick her up and she breaks down and tells him everything. she explains that she wants that kind of intimacy with someone so bad but she’s embarrassed and has so much trauma that she needs to feel really safe and comfortable with whoever she crosses that line of intimacy with. basically matt asks her if she’s comfortable with him and she asks him to be her first? he’s SO sweet during sex with her, MAJOR praising towards the female and really passionate and intimate. i’m really wanting/envisioning a side of matt during sex that’s very very sweet and comforting, yet a little dominant and sensual at the same time! but definitely gentle with her since it’s her first time and TAKES HIS TIME WITH HER??? like how sweet would that be you know??? BEGGING YOU FOR THIS. 🤍🤍🤍 love your writing :)

NOTHING LIKE YOU - m. sturniolo

warnings: slight cursing, SMUT (don’t read if you’re uncomfortable), p in v, soft dom!matt

A/N: thank you for the request, hopefully i wrote it how you were imagining. again if you want me to fix anything lmk! <3

-

“going somewhere?”

you heard a familiar voice call out behind you. you turned around to see matt, your best friend standing in the doorway as you attempted to zip up the black silk dress you were planning on wearing.

“believe it or not, i am going on a date.” you watched his reaction through your mirror, not sure of what to make of it. but ultimately matt just put on a small smile before making his way towards your figure.

“who’s the lucky guy?” he asked before assisting you in zipping up the dress. you didn’t miss how his hands lingered for more than a few seconds, or how his eyes traveled all the way down your body, admiring you.

you simply shrugged off his question. “ill tell you if it becomes anything serious.” grabbing your purse off your bed side table, you took one final look at your appearance, deeming it was good enough. “i’ll see you later okay? don’t wait up.” you said as you grabbed your house keys.

before you could make your exit, matt swiftly pulled you by the waist, bringing you into a secure hug. “what’s up with you?” you asked amused while circling your arms around his torso.

“call me if you need anything, alright?” matt said while pulling back from the hug, still not ready to let go. maybe your heart stopped for minute, matter of a fact maybe it exploded. from the way matt was looking at you, it was enough to forget about the whole date. but you knew you couldn’t. there was no point on waiting on something that would probably never happen.

“okay matt.” you softly replied before breaking out of his grasp, leaving the house to make your way to your date.

-

so far, your date was going well. to your surprise your date was easy to talk to. he started conversations easily, and listened to you as spoke, which is why it was easy for your mind not to wonder to the brunette you left back at home.

you two had went to a semi-fancy restaurant and were laughing the whole night through. from cracking jokes, to telling one another funny stories, you thought this might just end well for you.

“how about we go back to my place after this?” your date said while paying for his portion of the bill since you insisted on splitting it. you smiled at this while also putting your card down.

“sure, why not?”

-

back at his house things escalated quickly. mere seconds after getting past the front entrance, his hands were all over you.

he held you as you two engaged in a heavy make out session, leading you towards his room, never breaking the contact. your arms unwrapped around his neck before falling back onto his bed. quickly climbing on top of you, he dives down to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses all the way down to your collarbone. you sighed and propped yourself up on your elbows, making yourself more accessible to him.

as his free hand road your dress up, your hands were busy fumbling to get his shirt off, just as eager. he paused for a moment, leaning towards his bedside table to look for a condom. upon finding it, he undid his belt, and pushed his pants and boxers all the way down.

his teeth teared open the condom wrapper, as you watched his every movement. you laid back down, shutting your eyes, trying to brace yourself for what was about to come.

the guy placed his elbows on each side of your head. you could feel the tip slowly prying at your entrance.

shit

shit

shit

“wait, i can’t!” you quickly scooted back to the headboard. the guy looked at you confused, before taking the condom off and pulling his boxers back on.

“what the fuck, you serious?” he asked, eyes scanning your face to see if you were just joking. you adjusted your dress, swinging your legs off the side of the bed. “i’m sorry, im just not ready.” you muttered before finding your panties scattered somewhere on the floor, quickly putting them on you rushed out of the room.

the guy followed suit, yelling accusations at you. “you’re just gonna leave like that!?” he called out after you. you didn’t dare to look back, not even bothering to slip your heels back on, you ran out his house and didn’t stop until you were a couple of blocks down. you collapsed on the sidewalk, quickly pulling out your phone to call your pinned contact.

the phone rang and rang, until finally you could hear matt’s groggy voice on the other side of the phone.

“hey, what’s up?”

“matt, i need you to come get me right now.” you said, trying to compose yourself so he wouldn’t worry. on the other side you listened as matt shuffled around to grab his keys, making his way out the house in an instant.

“i’ll be right there.”

-

matt arrived in less than 15 minutes, since your location was a good distance between his house. he slowed down when he saw you at the side of the road, coming to a complete stop before you fell into the car.

he saw the look on your face. he didn’t need you to tell him, he knew something went wrong.

when you guys made it home, you made your way to matt’s room, not wanting to be alone that night. matt stopped in the kitchen to grab you some snacks before making his way back to your figure laid on the bed.

he shut the door and dimmed the lights, in case they were bothering you. he left the snacks on the table beside your head before laying down next to you.

“wanna talk about it?” matt asked gently. he turned over on his side to face you better. you sighed and ran your palm down your face. tears dropping down the plump of your cheeks. you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“we almost fucked,” you took a deep breath before continuing. “but i freaked out and ruined everything.” your eyes continued to water before you turned to face matt.

“what’s wrong with me?” your voice broke matt’s heart. to him there was absolutely nothing wrong with you. to him you were perfect, there was nothing that compared to you.

“hey, hey, hey” matt gently caressed your face while wiping your tears with his thumb. “there’s nothing wrong with being scared y/n. you don’t have to be ready right now.”

you let out another frustrated sigh. “but i am ready matt. he just..wasn’t the one i guess.” matt pulled his hand away from your face before looking into your eyes.

“then who is?”

your heart skipped another beat, or maybe two. he’s been right in front of you this whole time. the one you wanted, the one you needed. it was matt.

you shifted on your side before your hand made its way to matt’s neck. you watched his expression, for any sort of discomfort before connecting his lips with yours.

although the feeling of your lips on his brought matt to euphoria, he couldnt bring himself to do this while you were in a state of vulnerability, causing matt to back away from the kiss.

“y/n, are you sure about this?”

“yes matt, im really sure.”

matt smiled before pulling you in for another kiss, instead this one was more passionate, and desperate. your bottom lip hung open as matt took this as an invitation to push his tongue past the entrance. the atmosphere in the room only got thicker as matt shifted his body on top of you. you could feel the bulge in his pants rub against your core which made you whimper into the kiss.

“matt..please.” you gasped into the kiss.

“there’s no rush, baby. it’s just me and you.”

matt’s hands made their way down your body, reaching behind you back to undo the dress and reveal your breast out in display for him. matt dipped down, kissing all along the area, but purposely dodging the place you needed him most.

as matt’s hands went further, you could feel them just above your core. he could feel how wet you were through your panties. he made work to take them off, causing you to shiver from the exposure. you pulled at the hem of matt’s shirt, practically begging him to take it off. he complied, while also pushing his sweatpants, and boxers off. you couldn’t help but tense up, and do the same as before and lay back down to brace yourself.

matt grabbed a condom from his drawer, tearing it open and rolling it down his length. he could sense how tense you were. he gently placed his hand on your waist while looking into your eyes, trying to ease any of your worries away.

“i’ll go slow okay? tell me if you wanna stop.”

you whispered an ‘okay’ in approval. matt lined himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing in. your knuckles almost turned white with how much you were gripping the sheets to the new burning sensation.

“it’s okay angel, i got you.” matt reassured while caressing your face in hopes to calm you down.

matt groaned until he completely bottomed out. staying in place so you could adjust.

“fuck, you’re so tight.” matt breathed out.

you shivered at his words before taking a deep breath before telling matt he could move.

his thrusts were slow, but deep. enough to make you feel every inch of him.

“matt, can you go a bit faster?” you breathed out. matt nodded before propping himself up on his arms, making the snapping of his hips faster.

“oh god, matt!” you moaned out at the newfound pace. you mind was clouded with pleasure and the with the brunette in front of you. you reached up to push matt back down by his neck so your lips could clash against each other once again.

matt moaned against your lips, the clenching off your walls around him was enough to make him explode right then and there.

“you’re doing so good for me, angel.” matt whispered above your ear.

you whimpered, the combination of matt’s pace and the feeling of his lips peppering soft kisses all around caused your head to spin.

“matt, im gonna..” you could barely finished your sentence before matt’s free hand made it’s way to your clit, rubbing circles helping you chase your own high.

“go ahead baby, im right here.” matt mumbled, talking you through your orgasm.

“matt!” you cried out as you felt the knot in your stomach burst, leaving you a shaking mess as matt, also came undone, moaning your name as he rode out his high as well.

“fuck.” matt muttered before pulling out, which earned a shiver from you, still sensitive. matt made his way to the bathroom to clean himself off before coming back in his black sweatpants and a fresh towel for you. he gently cleaned you up, careful as he knew any sudden movement could cause you discomfort. you sat up before grabbing a clean set of matt’s boxers, and one of his sweatpants before collapsing back into bed.

matt did the same, pulling the covers over you two. his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you in closer. “are you okay?” he asked while peppering kisses along your neck.

“i’m amazing.” you chuckled while playing with the hand that held your waste.

“yeah, you really are.”

-

A/N: yall i………..i have no words, i dont usually write smut, I’ve probably written it like once but i decided to try smth new ig. I WAS GIGGLING THE WHOLE TIME. also message me if you wanna be moots, need some more. (need matt rn)

[cherryjuiceblues]

𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 | 𝟒

➯ HARRY SPECIFIES A FEW THINGS ABOUT THEIR RELATIONSHIP, Y/N ENTERS A NEW HEADSPACE, AND A FEW TEARS START TO FALL. ✰ dom!harry accidental plate smash. a few emotional breakdowns. sexual content. dominant and submissive dynamics. bondage. cum play. subspace. daddy kink. tickling kink. lots of praise. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 16.6k ッ mutually beneficial masterlist

Harry hasn’t had someone visit him at work in a very long time.

In fact, Harry can’t even recall the last occasion in which he’d been granted that luxury at all. 

So to have Mitch step inside his office (whilst Harry was on the phone and proceed to speak over the man on the other line) to let him know Miss L/N is downstairs, nearly had Harry struggling to remember how to behave. He’d felt special, thought about, cared for—to know Y/N had disregarded her fears and visited him anyway. He’d felt proud of her.

Until the distasteful conversation of his least favoured employees had seeped through his walls and the quieter, less pointed replies of his darling girl made his eyebrows furrow. Knowing that she was being subjected to their entitled prying was enough to squash his initial excitement, but all elation just withered away when Harry heard Y/N minimise their relationship to that of friends.

He can’t say he was expecting to hear that. Not from her pretty mouth. He couldn’t even attempt to school his reaction as he stepped outside of his office, his feet clicking on the ground at exactly the same time the rancid word left Y/N’s lips. I’m his friend. Harry wondered what kind of friends she’d had in her lifetime to warrant that sort of response. 

The feeling is new—being irritated and having Y/N be somewhat at the root of his displeasure. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like himself for even letting his brain linger in such a murky area. She’d done nothing wrong. What else was she to say? Oh, he’s actually my dominant. I’m his submissive. We practise BDSM ideals. Factually correct but perhaps inappropriate for casual conversation. And Harry isn’t unaware that they’ve never referred to themselves as dating. Despite feeling in every way Y/N’s boyfriend, her partner, her lover (if he was talking to someone he felt more than comfortable with), he knew she was not the type to assume even the smallest of things. Calling Harry her boyfriend without his ‘permission’ would weigh on Y/N’s mind for days—no matter how unbothered he would be by it.

And yet, he’s still infuriated. Couldn’t she see they were far more than friends? Didn’t she want to tell people that? He’s never been an insecure man but suddenly it sits on his chest like a brick. Maybe she doesn’t want the commitment of a label. Maybe this was just a fun fling; something to look back on in her senior years as an exciting rendezvous. Telling tales to her grandchildren—Your grandma used to get up to all sorts of escapades, you know. Harry didn’t want to be some offhanded story; he didn’t want to be just a memory of hers.

So he behaves inappropriately. He behaves like that of a jealous, unassured brute of a man that has no regard for the communication Harry insists is so important all the time. He becomes a hypocrite. He becomes a man who punishes unworthy actions and plays into power dynamics to make himself feel better.

“Sweet girl,” he traces her upper lip with the pad of his thumb, sliding past to brush the round of her cheek. His voice lacks his usual soft inflection and his face stays hard. “Came to bring me my lunch like a good friend.” She frowns, pulling her head back with sad eyes. Harry’s presence looms over her as she perches on his desk. What is usually a comforting and safe crowding of space now feels distressing to Y/N. She doesn’t want him so near if he’s upset with her. If he’s upset with her she wants to run away—move countries in fact.

He closes his eyes, brows relaxing, and then he leans forward to rest his forehead against hers in a short window of reprieve. “It’s okay. Let me be spiteful. Let me, love.” It’s confusing—of course it is. What he’s asking of her is completely unreasonable! But she’s… she’s perfect, she’s a wonder; an angel reincarnated. Because she nods slowly, unsure and hesitant, and then he kisses her gently. An only slightly lingering enmeshment of lips. Then he steps back.

“Lock my door,” Y/N lags a little but she listens. Harry hadn’t even taken note of her dress; pretty in silky pink—a portrait from a wedding. But he likes that she kept it on to come here, no matter the formality in which she suggests. He can’t deny he admires too, the speed in which the fabric can be loosened from her shoulders. Two dainty straps to push aside and pool the silk at her middle. “Good girl, sit back down.”

“I’m very busy today, Y/N,” he spans his hands over her knees, “I don’t have the time to be dealing with you professing our friendship all over my workplace. Because now—” Harry steps impossibly closer and edges the hem of her dress a few centimetres up her thighs, “now, I need to alter your definition of the word.”

Y/N doesn’t quite know how much Harry is playing. If a part of him is upset but he’s channelling it into sexual energy, if he’s punishing her for coming to see him—clearly something about the way she’d described their relationship has riled him up—Y/N’s not that oblivious. But she’s not a mind reader… and Harry has never been stern with her like this. 

It feels fitting to use his preferred honorific. “Sir…” she whispers, unsure of what exactly to say to him. “Have I done something wrong?” It’s a reasonable question. 

Harry drags his blunt nails across the tops of her knees. “No,” flattening his palms to slip under the silk until his fingertips tease the satiny skin above the hem of her panties. Y/N grips the edge of the desk with clammy hands. She’s not convinced… but she’s also not inclined to ask anymore questions—she finds that she trusts him regardless—a new discovery considering they’ve never had a conversation so tense before. But it relaxes Y/N a little to realise she still feels safe.

But she isn’t so wrong to wonder if this is a punishment.

With his soft fingertips trailing underneath her dress, his thighs pressing into her knees and his face looking down at her, shadowed by the harsh line of his brows, Y/N feels small. She feels as though he could squeeze into her skin and shrink her down into the palm of his hand, push her back with his strong legs and pin her to his desk, and burn her with the stoniness of his glower. 

Those things do happen, in minimised ways, but in order for Harry to reach her neck—as he heavily leans forward for—it’s sort of unavoidable that Y/N’s body makes room. That her head tilts back, and her thighs widen, and her lips part in a silent gasp when he kisses underneath her ear. It’s deceivingly sweet—the sound his mouth makes when it parts from her skin. A quiet smacking and gentle breaths hitting her neck. Y/N’s eyes flutter shut and she just feels as Harry kisses her. Parted lips paying attention to the spot that he knows makes her melt and hands—that manage to balance being soft and rough at the same time—scratching against the tops of her thighs. 

Y/N moans quietly into the air, knuckles tightening against the desk when she feels Harry’s teeth tease the underneath of her jaw. Then he takes her skin between them and nibbles—rolling, teasing, harassing the sensitive flesh in a way that makes Y/N squirm. She can almost feel her blood rushing to the surface, hooting and hollering to make an appearance on her neck. Look at us! We’re desired! She hopes and prays her red blood cells choose to calm down. Because Harry certainly isn’t going to… and Y/N finds that she doesn’t want him to either.

His hands push upwards underneath her dress to the bottom of her stomach, and then back to her thighs, and then to her hips. Almost frustrated in the restriction of his movement. And then he lifts her just slightly, enough to pull her dress from underneath her bum and pool on top of her thighs. The cool wood makes Y/N jump a little, straight into Harry as he crowds even closer to her mollifying body. Now much more satisfied with the easier access to the state of her undress, he squeezes her waist with bruising fingertips and tugs her quickly wettening front to his own hardening one.

“Do you do this with your friends, Y/N?” He bites down particularly hard and she gasps.

“No,” her voice barely carries as she tries to shake her head. She doesn’t find it necessary to specify that Niall is her only friend.

“No?” Harry pulls back, lips wet and pupils large, feigning shock, “So, are we not friends?”

“We are!” She pleads, trembling fingers tangling in the front of his shirt.

But Harry disagrees. “No. I am not your friend.”

Y/N’s head scrambles, the high of his lips on her neck providing it difficult to maintain conversation. “Wh—I don’t—” She didn’t want to ask ‘what are we?’. It felt so juvenile.

Harry takes her earlobe into his mouth before trailing back down, across her jaw and all the way to her chin. Down the column of her throat and back up to the underneath of her ear. He kisses, and licks, and sucks. And marks. Then he loosens his tie and removes her hands from his shirt. “Hold your wrists together,” he demands, voice deep and commanding. Y/N’s heart beats like it’s warning her—unable to identify that she’s as safe as she can be—and her mouth dries out completely when she realises what he’s about to do. His tie around her wrists, looping through and underneath her hands to incarcerate them entirely. “Is that okay?” Harry’s eyes meet hers, softening around the edges in a genuine ask of approval; a break of character.

“Yes, Sir,” Y/N nods, twisting her wrists a little to test Harry’s tying ability. It’s perfected. She’s completely and utterly at his disposal—and it’s oddly calming. He smiles, encouraging her tied wrists to rest in her lap as he cradles her cheek with a palm, nurturing thumb painting goosebumps across the rounded flesh.

Then he kisses her. And it’s not gentle, despite the soft lingering of his hand on her face. His mouth captures hers, breaths shared as Y/N is consumed by him, and he takes whatever he pleases. They kiss and they kiss, as though they have all the time in the world. As though they’re floating down a river covered in cherry blossoms and not in the middle of his office during work hours.

But Harry keeps her safe. It’s what he does. Whether they were treading water deep enough for Y/N to drown in, or she was perched upon a desk that was teetering over the side of a volcano—Harry wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

He doesn’t let anything happen to her when Mitch’s telling knock sounds at the door. Y/N tenses up and her eyes widen. She knows she locked it but… Oh God. She’s tied up… on Harry’s desk… with her dress up around her middle.

“Not now, Mitch!” Harry leans back, projecting his voice away from Y/N’s ears.

That’s seemingly all that needs to be said, despite the way Y/N worries about the sure fact that Mitch must understand something unsavoury is happening on the other side of the door. But he doesn’t knock again and Harry secures Y/N with a hand around the back of her neck. If he were feeling more playful, he might take her incarceration as an opportunity to torture her with tickles—to squeeze, and prod, and wiggle as much as he pleased until she was begging with tears in her eyes for him to stop. To want to force eustress laughs and squirms out of her… it makes him feel sadistic. But he can’t stop thinking about it. He’s certain Y/N would bask in the powerlessness it grants her. 

Harry pushes the desire down for now. Later… he would, he’d do it. “You told me I could keep you, yeah?” He says millimetres from her mouth. Y/N had told him that. And she’d meant it. She still does. She yearns to be kept—to be cherished, desired, and looked after. Their noses brush when she nods. “You’re mine and I’m yours. Okay?”

That was more than okay. They were each other’s; something Y/N could easily understand. “Okay,” her breath mingles with Harry’s, nudging forwards ever so slightly to press her lips against his in a soft puckering. The sound it makes is equally as delicate—almost enough to make Harry want to pull back and start all over again; untie her hands and materialise the softest of beds to lay her down upon. 

But he needs to exercise this control just as much as Y/N needs it demonstrated to her. “Okay,” he repeats, kissing her once, twice, three times. “Let’s make sure it really sinks in then,” and Y/N is reassured enough now to allow a slight smile to upturn her nurtured lips and the excitement to buzz through her veins once more.

It still feels like punishment though. When Harry nudges her tied wrists up enough from her lap that he can smooth his thumb over the front of her underwear. Over the wetness. It makes Y/N shudder, the light weight of his digit brushing over her pulsing bundle of nerves. And when he lifts her feet up to rest on the wood, plucks the sodden material aside and spits down directly onto her cunt… it’s disgusting. Disgusting and disgraceful to be doing this on his desk, for Christ’s sake. But it makes her pussy flutter… pulsate and clench and send swarms of butterflies to her tummy.

He rubs it over with his now shining thumb, dips down to her hole and back up again, in motions too delicate to take Y/N far enough… but just seeing him tower over her—wearing the power of his suit so well—and claim her with his saliva is enough to ignite every nerve in her body.

That’s when she’s sure he’s being mean. When he stops touching her and unzips his slacks to pull himself out. Doesn’t even pop the button. It’s cruel enough that she can’t touch him. That she can’t thumb over his pearling precome and slick it down his thick shaft. But what is infinitely the nastiest thing Harry has ever done, is swipe the flushed tip through her lips—sure to spread her wetness around thoroughly—and start fisting his cock in filthy motions. It’s too fast to be deemed as foreplay, or working himself up enough to fuck her. It’s with purpose as he slides his hand up and down, spitting once again—a hypnotic string falling to his cock—as Y/N is forced to watch Harry build himself up to the brink.

Y/N’s feelings coalesce—sadness and arousal confusing her infinitely. As if the two combine to create something even more overwhelming. To watch such an erotic sight, the sexiest man (who she can now confidently call hers) as he loses himself in pleasure is enough to make her heart beat erratically… and yet it pushes her brows to the centre and makes her restrained wrists itch with the knowledge that she is unable to get him there herself.

Her throat is dry. “But—why are you punishing me if I didn’t— if I didn’t know?” She daren’t say the F word. If I didn’t know not to call us friends.

Harry’s eyes flick up from the spots between their legs to meet Y/N’s conflicted expression. He says, through shallow breaths, “Who said anything about punishment? I’m not punishing you, darlin’, I’m—teaching you, yeah? Helping you learn,” he pauses when he gives himself a particularly good squeeze, swallowing around a groan. “What have I taught you today?”

Y/N fights the urge to stare at his dripping cock, hovering above the perfect hole. He’d feel much better inside her, why won’t he just— She exhales, “We’re not just friends. You’re… you’re keeping me. I’m yours.”

He hums, deep within his throat, fist still moving in dizzying tugs. “Such a fast learner, my clever girl.”

The low cadence of his voice makes her squirm, hips lifting to get just that bit closer to him. She’s balancing uncomfortably on the tips of her elbows, thighs aching with the width in which they are spread. But in this moment it all fades into the background of her thoughts—especially when Harry starts letting out grunts that have arousal immediately pooling at her entrance.

“Oh, fuck,” he leans over, planting his hand next to her folding waist as their bodies dare to meet. Harry keeps them separated though, cruelly; his eyes trained to the distance between her cunt and his cock. He won’t give it to her, she knows that. Understands in the back of her mind that this is supposed to be quick, and somewhat agonising for her, no matter what he’d said about helping her learn. That Harry is in Boss mode and it’s only making her wetter and she can’t do anything about it.

He spits again, lifting himself out of the way so it falls down and onto her pussy. Y/N’s entire body shivers, chest heaving as his saliva drips from her clit to mix with her arousal. And he doesn’t even touch it—doesn’t swirl his fingers or mix their fluids. He just watches as he speeds up the flicks of his wrist and then tears his eyes away to admire the devastation on Y/N’s face.

“I’m g’na—fuck—g’na come all over this pretty pussy,” a squeeze and a groan, “and then tug your panties back over to keep it all nice and safe. And then you’re g’na go home and stay wet for me, aren’t you, darlin’?” She can’t do anything but whimper, face scrunched up as her core throbs and she nods pitifully. “Wish I could come inside of it instead. Stuff just the tip in and tug myself off until I drip out.”

“Oh,” Y/N whines, the noise pitiful and weak. She wishes that too. She wishes he’d come deep inside her and stay there forever.

“But we can build up to that, yeah?” He’s groaning at the very thought.

“Mhm,” her head goes up and down without any contemplation at all.

“Oh, I’m gonna fucking come, baby,” Harry moans and Y/N’s face urges towards his, wide eyes looking up at his glowing skin and dilated pupils. Their noses knock, and then their lips meet in a frenzied clash as they smother one another’s sounds. His fist slicks up and down, up and down—wet, heady skin thumping at the base with each pass of his hand. Precome and dribble coats his fingers, his knuckles, and Y/N is half inclined to open her mouth expectantly until he has no choice other than to stuff it full. 

Harry pulls away from her mouth, spit following him as he holds the weight of his head on heavy shoulders. His hand has migrated to the small of Y/N’s back, pulling her as close as possible without letting their middles meet and his hair tickles her face. He’s conservative with the volume of his groans but liberal with the way they topple past his lips—hushed, panted expletives.

“Fuck, y’little pussy’s dripping. Is this what gets you off? Silly little girl likes being treated like a silly little object.”

She nods fervently, “Yes, please, Sir.” Y/N’s pelvis aches, her back is unsupported, and her elbows are digging into hard wood. But it doesn’t matter because she’s Harry’s. His girl, his object—whatever he desires. And the thought of leaving the evidence of their rendezvous in her underwear for the rest of the day, unable to relieve the throbbing between her thighs; it excites her in the most masochistic way.

And when Harry comes, the warmth of his release drips onto Y/N’s neglected pussy and sears through her skin and down to her bones. His quiet moans—reserved but still erotic—fizzle along the surface of her skin and embed themselves in her mind to be replayed over, and over. White dribbles decorate his large hand and paint Y/N’s spread centre, coalescing with the thick, glassy slick of her own arousal—and she only just catches his hypnotised whispers.

Mumbles of a half-conscious man, “That’s it, fuck. So pretty.”

But then he suggests complete clarity—the ability to stay cruel, as he fixes the gusset of Y/N’s underwear back over her sticky, come-painted pussy and smacks down with four fingers over the swollen sensitivity. She gasps and bucks, head throwing back before snapping forward to catch his gaze. Then he does it again, hard enough to jolt her entire body but not enough to hurt. It tingles, and warms, and spreads through her entire being.

And Y/N thinks that’s it. Harry has come and she’s going to keep it in her underwear just like he’d told her to. But then he expertly takes his forefinger and traces a circle around where he knows her clit lies underneath. He teases the nerves and utters something… something he’s said before.

“Let Daddy’s come soak in, that's a good girl.”

The blood rushes through her ears deafeningly. 

Let Daddy’s come soak in. It bounces around inside her skull. Let. Daddy. She shivers. He gives her another hard pat and her legs collapse from their propped up position, thighs landing heavily against his desk. Harry’s smile is one of a blissful man. Blissful yet perhaps sadistic. He tucks himself back into his trousers before starting to gently untie Y/N’s wrists. They fall like dead weights into her lap but Harry picks them both up to dot soft kisses around the tender of their pulses. Then he grants her a moment of stillness as his encapsulating palms glide along exposed skin. Up her thighs and to her middle where he adjusts her dress to fall over her lap. From palm to shoulder, blunt nails leaving trails of goosebumps as they scratch soothingly. Along her neck and up to her face, thumbs applying salve as they fix unruly eyebrows and trace imaginary lines.

She’s still undoubtedly buzzing, but Harry’s touch tells her it’s okay. He’s proud of her. She’s good. She’s his and she’s good.

“Thank you, love.” Y/N opens her heavy eyelids. “For letting me be a bit mean. I needed it.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles, “...liked it.”

Harry exhales a laugh, “I know y’did. But regardless,” he rests his hands on her waist and squeezes gently, “we’ll have a chat when I get home. About this, about specification and making sure we’re on the same page. And about certain types of… play. Yeah?”

Y/N sighs, something dreamy that trails off into something whiny. The centre of her legs is begging. She nods.

He knows. “I’ll take care of you, promise. But you’ll wait for me, won’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Lovely girl,” he kisses her—soft and saccharine. The type of kiss a husband gives to his wife.

Harry thinks he needn’t have asked. He certainly needn’t have ordered. Y/N would’ve waited for him no matter what. If not because she can’t make herself feel the way he does then because she just knows. Purposely or not, she just gets it. And he thinks he loves her for it.

Y/N might as well be on another planet.

She is uncomfortable to her own detriment—her thoughts are helpful to no one and she thinks if she were to hold her hands out in front of her they would shake. Her underwear is surely the consistency of paper mache and just placing one foot in front of the other has her feeling akin to a penguin; the waddle, in which she is paranoid she’s exhibiting, enough to make her rush home in a hypnotised funk.

But aside from the stickiness between her thighs and the distracting pulsating calling her like a siren, Y/N feels good. Much better than a few hours prior when she’d worried she’d been the cause of greatly upsetting Harry. That she’d ruined their relationship before it had even really begun.

Her mind can focus on only one thing… Daddy. It felt wrong to like the way it sounded coming from Harry’s mouth—the implications of playing with such a word—but Y/N couldn’t deny the way it made sense for her. His capability, his dominance, his ability to have Y/N’s overworking brain suddenly be granted tunnel vision for him and him only. His control, his power; it all clicks into place.

For a handful of absent minutes, Y/N sits and stares at the wall. Processing. But it’s hard—almost like her brain has been cloaked in a thick covering of fog—which Y/N is familiar with in other contexts. Of anxiety, and low mood, and exhaustion. Never has this fog been so direct in its assailing of her senses—she feels light and heavy, at the same time—is half inclined to just sit and wait at the door for Harry to come home like a dog. Her thoughts can only surround him; the way he spoke, the way he touched her, the way he controlled her. All of it replays over, and over, and over—keeping the torturous throbbing in between her legs alive and well. Until she sees the time and realises the thirty minutes she’s convinced herself have passed, has actually only been five.

So she does the only thing she can think of. She cleans.

Y/N finds cleaning therapeutic; the motion of washing away grime, of making things shiny and smell nice. It feels like renewal and it makes her feel competent. It’s something she struggles to do in her own home—finding the motivation can appear impossible at times. But for her to do it for Harry… it feels like something that will make him happy, something that will make her good, something that will make up, even the tiniest bit, for just how much he’s done for her. 

It’s exciting.

Her body whisks her around the house, almost as if on autopilot, as she hoovers, and dusts, and disinfects, and washes. Time moves so much faster now that she’s busy, that when Harry walks through the front door she’s sure he’s left work early. She hardly sees him until she’s right in front of his tall body. Then her heart melts.

“Harry,” her tone is soft, somewhat unshackled by the hesitancy she regularly possesses. Her lips curl into an easy smile and her muscles relax.

“What have you been up to, my fair maiden?” He teases, glancing at the pink rubber gloves decorating her fingers, delicate feathers tickling her forearms, and then to the little bucket hanging off her arm, filled with sprays and cans—cloths and wipes.

“Made it all clean for you…” She feels as though something is missing when she speaks… like it would be appropriate to call him Sir right now.

“What’s ‘it’, lovely? The house? You cleaned the whole house?”

Y/N’s grin widens and her head bobs up and down in an excitable nod. Harry’s chest tightens. Never has he come home to something like this before. A cooked meal, yes. A kiss and a promise of more later, yes. A girl bubbling with giddiness at the anticipation of his reaction to his home that she’s made spotless… never. It overwhelms him a little—the encapsulating desperation to smother her all of a sudden. To just hold her until their bodies fuse together.

Harry steps forward, taking her supplies and setting them down before gently unrolling the gloves from her hands. Then he’s snaking his arms around her waist and hoisting her up with ease, relishing in the squeal he gets from Y/N when he gives them both a little spin. He buries his face into her neck, pretending to bite her like he loves to do so often (it’s hardly pretending when he does actually do it). Her laughter bounces around them and blooms in his chest, echoing like the perfect birdsong. 

“What made you do all this?” He asks, pulling his face back to look into her eyes.

She goes shy, eyes avoiding his face as her lip catches between her teeth. “I missed you… wanted to do something nice. For… for…”

“For…” Harry prompts, capable hands stroking along her back.

Her eyes squeeze shut and her forehead falls forward, knocking against his own gently. It’s on the tip of her tongue and yet it feels impossible to get out. “For… Daddy,” she finally whispers. And it’s embarrassing. Heat spreads throughout her body—the humiliating kind but… but it feels good too. It feels submissive. Harry’s fingers dig into her back for a moment. Almost as though he can’t believe she actually said it. But she did, and she’s less nervous than usual, so she’s surely slipping through space.

“Well, he’s certainly very pleased with you, baby. Thank you.” He kisses her forehead. And he really concludes she’s feeling floaty when he tries to place her down, only to be met with grappling fingers knotting into the back of his shirt and strained whines of complaint. 

He does what she needs him to do. “Go and sit down in the living room. I’ll be in.” Y/N looks at him for a second, eyes darting back and forth between green. And when the sincerity of his gaze shines through, she relaxes and turns away, doing as Harry says.

He doesn’t need to make her wait. It’s not necessary. So he’s quick to hang his jacket up and loosen his tie, before retrieving a glass of water from the kitchen and taking it to Y/N. 

When she sees him again, the creases in her mind smooth themselves out. The sound of his dress shoes tapping along the hard floor is cushioned by the rug, and then he stands before her, silenting ordering she have a drink. There is no hesitation to comply.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asks, crouching down in front of where she sits. His trousers tighten around his thighs.

“Good,” she nods her head.

“Yeah?” He reaches for her legs, smoothing his palms up her knees to splay on top of her thighs. Warm. Secure. “Is your brain nice and quiet?” She nods again. “How long have you felt like this, darling?”

Y/N’s smaller hands rest atop Harry’s, fingers curling around his own for stability. “Since I left your office.”

He hums like he knows… which he does. Of course he knows. It couldn’t be more obvious that the centre of her thighs is sticky and hot. With his come, with her arousal. Harry’s blood pumps faster at the thought of the image—one he’s already seen but not for long enough. So he asks with complete understanding, “What did you like the most about that?”

Y/N’s eyes drop to the collar of Harry’s shirt. “Your tie… and your control… and you—you said… y’know...”

He tries not to laugh. “You’ve already said it once, sweetheart, surely it’s not so hard. Did you like it when Daddy came in your pretty panties? And all over your pretty pussy? Did you like it when he slapped your little cunt? I could feel it throbbing, baby. So desperate to come but Daddy didn’t let you, did he?”

Y/N mewls, head shaking and knees starting to bob up and down nervously. Harry keeps them still. 

“You’re slipping into a subspace, my love.” Harry grips her face gently, forcing eye contact. “I need you to really listen to me right now. What are your safewords? Tell me.”

“Red and Yellow.”

“Good girl. Never forget them, okay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He smiles, pulling her towards him to sponge a soft kiss to her lips. “I want you to start using Green, as well. Green means you’re good, you’re enjoying yourself and you don’t want to stop. I’m going to ask you for your colour more than usual today, darlin’. You understand?”

“Yes, Sir. Green is good.”

“Lean into how you’re feeling. I’m more than capable of taking care of you, okay? I want you to feel safe. But if you want to stop, you’ll tell me. You’ll say that tiny, little word. Just one Red, or one Yellow, and I’ll stop everything immediately.”

“Okay. Okay, Sir. I understand.” Her fists reach out, landing on his chest in soft frustration. She’s waited long enough. She understands—she understands very well, in fact. And whilst her head might be free from the usual weight of anxiety, it’s since been replaced with the deafening resounding of Harry’s name, Harry’s voice, Harry.

“Do you want me to take care of you, Y/N?” He asks it but it’s a command for her. To look him in the eye and communicate.

“Yes,” she nods. “Please, Harry, I—need you.”

It settles thick and buzzing in his stomach. I need you. He needs her just as much, he’s certain. 

“Darling, tell me your colour.”

Green. So fucking green. Bright, luminescent green—Great Gatsby light-at-the-end-of-the-dock green.

Y/N had done so well to ask to be tied up again. Pulling her hands up above her and to the headboard; so much more intense, so much more vulnerable. Harry had made her ask, mind you, (goaded and teased until she was fervent with need) but he is still so proud. Her body is stretched out for him, ankles too shackled in soft ribbons and tied to either side of the end of his bed frame. 

This was different territory, and that’s why Harry has to keep asking. He leans over her, looking for her gaze. “Darlin’,” Y/N blinks up at him with a coy smile, “colour.”

“Green.” She pouts her lips expectantly, head lifting up from the pillows to reach him. His mouth is right there… right there. He drops slightly and kisses her chastely. Unsatisfyingly for Y/N who wants more—who wants everything—but Harry pulls away, content that she’s happy. 

“Good.” He stands back up at the foot of the bed, admiring the naked girl below him. Completely nude except for her underwear, where underneath she is still very much unsatiated and painted in Harry. It’s impossible to resist smoothing his fingers over her mound; fabric long from being dry. Just the pressure of his digits makes her skin scatter with goosebumps. “Pretty thing. Is this what you were thinking about all afternoon? Waiting for me to come home and spread you out... and take care of your little ache?”

Y/N feels drunk. Her body is hot and cold, light and heavy. She’s embarrassed to be so open for him but it feels squashed somehow—like shame and shyness couldn’t stand a chance in getting in her way. It’s why she feels confident enough to push her hips up into his hand, and stare directly into his eyes without giving a verbal answer.

But Harry knows, so perfectly, how to respond to her. Harry knows what Y/N wants before she does. “Have we forgotten how to speak?” He looks down to her jutted hips pointedly, pushing them firmly back to the mattress and taking his hand away. A minor punishment for demanding his touch.

“No, Sir.”

This is new. She’s… cheeky. She’s begging for help—she’s swimming through waves of fog and clarity, desperation and discipline.

Harry has to bite back a smile; refusing to give her a small victory. It seems the descent into subspace has given her confidence—an unconscious urge to push his buttons. He could push her deeper with ease, mould her into the malleable state he knows well… or he could see what else she has to say for herself.

“No. Sir.” Harry repeats her words slowly, bluntly, almost as though he’s feeling them out. “I thought…” his fingertips dance up her left calf. “I thought…” up to the inside of her thigh where the skin is oh, so sensitive—silky and delicate—“that we established an affinity for the other word, hm?” He takes the backs of his nails and drags them down her right leg, provokingly slowly, and watching as it twitches into his touch.

Whether it’s the excitement of finding out what Harry will do next if she doesn’t comply, or the genuine mortification of saying it—Y/N can’t do it. She can’t force the word out of her mouth; it swims around in her brain but refuses to meet her tongue. “Ha—Harry.”

“Oh,” he laughs humourlessly, “Harry, she says. Harry. Okay, love, and what about the other one?”

Her face breaks a little, scrunching up as she shakes her head. “Can’t.”

Harry smacks his fingers on her right breast, pulling downward as he assaults her peaking skin. It’s not so hard, but the sound and the shock of the sudden strike has Y/N gasping out, her back arching. “Yes. You can. Managed just fine earlier.”

“No,” she whines, sounds getting caught in the back of her throat as she pulls against the headboard slightly.

Harry demands in earnest, “Colour.”

Y/N huffs, “Green,” her tone petulant and sulky. It was really hard to admit liking something when she was fighting it at the same time.

“Oh dear,” Harry frowns, “she’s having a little strop.” Y/N only pulls harder, unable to hide her face in any way with her limbs so restricted. She tries her legs too, knees able to bend ever so slightly before Harry flattens them to the bed. “That’s okay, I can wait.” Then he pulls his hand back, watching for Y/N’s body to tense up as he feigns bringing his harsh fingers down again. Instead, when her back arches as he holds his hand in the air, he puts it to her left breast in a hard squeeze. The air is forced out of Y/N’s lungs; surprise, relief, disappointment all coalescing. “I can wait or I can force it out of you. One word—it’s all I want. Admit you like it.”

She looks at him—embarrassment, pleasure, vulnerability all clear as day on her face. He can see the thoughts as they pass behind her eyes. She yearns to obey but she’s still clinging onto the mortification. Saying that word once had felt like climbing a mountain and—she’s doubting herself—it hadn’t sounded right from her lips. She’d been too coy, too ashamed. It’s too much, she’s panicking, she wants Harry to push her deeper.

“Hm? What’s the word, baby, are you g’na tell me?” Harry’s hands flatten against her sternum, dragging down to rest on her stomach. He’s got one knee propped up against the outside of her thigh, like he’s preparing to join her on the bed.

Y/N frowns and shakes her head like she’s sad to admit it. Like she’s apologising for not being able to, remorseful to let him down. Her eyes are glassy, and her face is warm. She’s so close to letting go; to sinking deep into the mattress like it’s made of marshmallow. She assumed she was already there whilst she was pottering about, waiting for Harry to get home, but her thoughts were still very much buzzing at the forefront of her mind—no matter how thick or concentrated they may have been. She wants to think nothing. She just wants to feel.

“No. Okay,” Harry sighs. He sounds frustrated but he’s not really. He’s excited. But his stoic demeanour remains. “That’s okay, I’ll take care of it. I’ll get you so dumb that that pretty mouth responds no matter what I ask of it.”

Y/N nods. Yes, yes, that’s exactly what she wants. “Please.” Her hips push up again instinctively. Harry finally climbs up to hover over her, thighs bracketing one of her own. His knee threatens to push into her centre. 

A hum sounds from the back of his throat as he leans down to kiss Y/N’s cheek with soft lips. “Still Green?”

She exhales dreamily, head tilting a fraction to encourage his mouth to meet hers. “Yes.”

Harry gives her what she silently asks for. His lips over hers, his hands smoothing across the sides of her face and into her hair, shared breaths, and gentle strokes of tongue. Palms trail down her body, landing on her waist. They squeeze enough to make Y/N jolt and Harry smile against her mouth. Then he hoists her body up so she’s bearing her weight on her upper back and the hot middle of her legs meets Harry’s thigh. 

Her breath catches. Thick, warm muscle cloaked in tight black material pressing against damp, slick underwear. She feels full without actually being so—the presence of him there making her clit throb and her panties rub tantalisingly over her arousal. Harry controls her movements with the fingers digging into her waist—his thumbs brush featherlight over her stomach and it makes Y/N shiver; the softness.

But, rather contrastingly, the softness between her own thighs and the hardness that presses into her core is far from chaste. He moves her up and down over his meaty flesh, “Still… Green?” he asks, knowing damn well Y/N is silent with pleasure and nothing else. Her mouth is agape—the first sign of finally appeasing the lasting thrumming shocking her into speechlessness. 

The inside of her panties is cold against her… and feels full, and sticky, and nasty. She’s sure were Harry to peel them away that they’d stick, and take strands with them as they went. Y/N finds she’s dreading that moment significantly… or is it precisely the opposite? Is she despairingly desperate for him to see her all messy? Is she hoping he’ll have no other choice than to mock and ridicule her? She whines loudly and the sound drags on as she points her chin to the ceiling and pushes her cunt further onto Harry’s thigh.

Her breast stings, and Y/N looks up to find one of Harry’s hands squeezing it tightly. He’d smacked her again but she can’t possibly think why. Until he says, “I asked you a question, silly girl. Still Green?”

It takes her a few seconds to process his words—warmth spreading underneath his hand and the feel of her nipple grazing his palm adequately slowing her brain function—but when she does, her head moves up and down fervently. Harry can’t help but slip his hand up from her tit to slink around her throat, squeezing the sides and deliciously restricting her blood flow. “I don’t understand dopey nodding, baby. Tell me,” which is cruel because there’s a rather large, compressing element against her voicebox.

“Gr—een,” Y/N exhales.

“Good girl,” he releases the pressure of his fingers, hand still holding as Y/N’s throat contracts underneath. “Does that feel nice? Against Daddy’s thigh, hm?” Harry pulls her onto him harder, flexing his muscle as he starts grinding her hips for her. Y/N mewls and moans, nodding despite Harry’s previous aversion to it. Her wetness is starting to seep through to his slacks, warm and sticky. “I know you love it, Y/N. Why won’t you just say it?” His hands move down to clutch onto her hips, speeding up the way her centre rubs against his thigh. “Just one… tiny… word. That’s all I want.”

Y/N’s abdomen tightens. Her orgasm has been dormant all day, and even the most pathetic of touching is awakening it. She shakes her head before she realises she’s even doing it; too focused on the feeling between her thighs to appropriately respond.

And that’s when Harry really starts to fray around the edges. There’s a certain thing that’s been floating around in his head. For weeks, and weeks, and weeks. Ever since he met Y/N. The idea of tickling her at her most vulnerable, as a pleasurable torture device. Her hands and ankles are tied—there’s no getting away from it, no escaping Harry’s cruel, slender fingers as they start to wiggle and dig into Y/N’s sides. Harry watches her squirm and relishes in her immediate shriek. Her back arches as she tries fruitlessly to get out of his grasp and her bound limbs tug and twist against the silky ribbons. He could do this forever; literally and figuratively. She’s at his complete and utter disposal. He pulls her against his thigh again, and in a frenzied motion, tugs her panties aside hard enough to hear rips and see elastic snap.

Her pussy is swollen—unsurprisingly so but Harry still groans. Copious amounts of slick, turned creamy with drops of his come still nestled between her, immediately staining his trousers. She cries out, sucking in desperate breaths when Harry stops tickling her for a moment. Too transfixed to multitask. He runs a thumb through her and near shivers at the sound of her gasp, putting his shiny digit to her lips to paint them salaciously. He hums, “Dirty girl, leaving this filth in your panties all day.”

And Y/N can’t even respond. Not because she’s at a loss for words (although that remains true) but because Harry starts to speed up. Everything. He attacks her in motions so fast that Y/N cannot process them—she can only take it.

Harry spits down onto her—so much like the way he did in his office—watching it land on her clit before rubbing it in with his thumb. It’s so unnecessary; to make her wetter. Y/N has literally never been this wet in her entire life, but she supposes it’s addictive—to make things all messy. He circles her quickly with such perfect pressure that Y/N could come if he just kept going. But he doesn’t. He stops to grab her waist again, forcing her hips to roll over, and over, and over until Y/N is right on the edge—back arching and cute, erotic sounds flowing from her lips—and then he digs his fingers into her flesh, cruel and calculated.

Y/N stutters, and the desperation to escape only has her cunt pushing harder into Harry’s thigh. He’s relishing in her squirms, evil to his core. “Please!” She begs but it’s not clear.

Harry coos, “Oh, I don’t know what you want. You’ll have to tell Daddy, sweetheart.”

“Please, please, please,” Y/N cries, jolting body bending all out of shape as Harry burrows into the sensitive skin of her waist.

“You wanna come? Is that it?”

“Yes!” No. Not right now. Right now she wants Harry to stop. fucking. tickling. her. “Harry…” she drags the sound of the ‘Y’ out, whingy and pathetic. But then he does stop. He stops and he pulls his thigh away and Y/N panics. “No! Please, Sir.” She wants to reach for him but her wrists remain.

“Dumb, whiny girl. You don’t know what you want, either.” Harry leans over her sensitive body, lips trailing up the centre of her chest and up to her ear. “I’m half inclined to just stick my dick in you and go to sleep. I’ve had a long day, you know? I’d quite like some rest… with a warm, tight cunt to soothe me.” Y/N clenches around nothing. She can feel a thick trail of arousal dripping down to her bum. It makes her wriggle. “I know what I want,” he says, breath delicate against the shell of Y/N’s ear. “I want you to admit you like calling me Daddy. It’s not a hard ask, sweetheart. Just say it.”

Harry kisses down her neck, sucking her skin into his mouth; pressing his lips to every available inch of flesh. Y/N’s heart pounds, heavy and loud beneath her ribs. Harry might even be able to feel it as he passes over with his mouth. “If you say it…” his face is hovering over her tummy—down, further, until his soft exhalations are hitting Y/N’s clit, “I’ll let you come. If you don’t… well… I happen to be very content staying right here.” And then he flattens his tongue against her, finally cleaning her up.

Harry moans just to watch Y/N’s mouth fall open—nose nudging her clit tantalisingly. He licks her so slowly but so intensely, sighing happily as his stubble saturates. Y/N can feel her orgasm building already. He knows, of course—doesn’t let her tip over the edge. Especially not when she doesn’t even try to beg. His palm comes down against the inside of her thigh, stealing a cry from her as she writhes around.

Big hands snake underneath to hold Y/N’s ass, pulling her into his face. She doesn’t take long to get there again, noises increasing in both frequency and volume. “Har… Oh, please. Please.” Her clit is so sensitive. It was before it had even really been touched but now it’s just bullied. Harry pushes his face in deeper as his response, tongue stroking her walls and nose bumping her with each curl.

But then he pulls away again, inhaling deeply and dropping Y/N’s hips to the mattress. “We taste good together, y’know,” straddling her waist with his thighs—one still considerably stained by her slick—and capturing her lips in a proper kiss. A kiss that makes Y/N whimper into his mouth, a kiss that makes her head clear, a kiss that tells her she’s hopelessly in love. He holds her face, lips parting just enough for him to mutter, “What’s your colour, darling?”

“Green. But—Please, can I come?”

He pulls back to look at her. “I don’t know, sweetheart, have you called me Daddy yet?”

Y/N pauses… and then she nods, “When you got home.”

Harry’s fingers quickly reach down and squeeze her waist, smiling when she yelps. He laughs, “That doesn’t count.”

“Please?”

“You’re being so coy. We both know you want to say it.”

“It’s embarrassing!”

“You’ve already done it once!”

“That was different, Sir.”

Harry strokes his palms along her ribs and over her breasts. “Why’s that?”

“I was… I don’t know.” She inhales. “I do like it, I really like it, Harry please.” Y/N tries to twitch her hips; impossible underneath the vast weight of Harry’s sturdy body.

He hums, pleased to hear her admit something. “What are you missing?” He thumbs over her nipples. Her breath catches.

She could do it. She wanted to do it. “D—Daddy.”

Harry kisses her again—surges forward bruisingly to sponge their lips together. “Good girl,” he whispers into her mouth. “Good girl, say it again.”

She huffs, frustrated, aroused, and desperate simultaneously. “Please, Daddy.”

“Fuck, there you go,” he grunts, shuffling his thighs down her body to bracket her knees. He wastes no time smearing four digits over her clit in rapid swipes. Y/N throws her head back, mewling and gasping. “Does my pretty girl w’na come? All over Daddy’s fingers? Yeah?”

“Yuh-huh, yeah, yeah, please, oh—” Harry presses his hand into her abdomen, refusing to let her hips undulate, as he finally lets Y/N come, sending her over the edge with a swat to her cunt. Her moans crescendo—cute, uh’s and other choked sounds—wrists pulling at the headboard as soon as the overstimulation kicks in. “Oh—oh, God, yes,” she breathes as she comes down, Harry’s thumb now swiping gently through the thick arousal that has pooled out of her.

He brings it to his mouth, “Mm, well done, baby.” Overwhelmed tears pool in her eyes, the pleasure buzzing through her veins. Now, she’s floating. Harry frowns, smoothing a palm over her head. “Col—”

“Green!” Y/N exclaims quickly. Her bottom lip wobbles. “Felt really, really good.”

Harry reaches behind him, blindly but gently, untying her ankles from the bedposts. Y/N doesn’t move them. “Would you still be Green if I fucked you, darlin’?”

She nods instantly, “Yes, yes, Green,” pushing her hips up.

He rubs his thumbs over her ankles—a soft moment—before he’s flipping her body over. Her bound wrists cross and her face pushes into the pillow. It smells like Harry; Y/N breathes in deeply.

Harry looks over the woman lying face down on his bed. Her pretty bum, her soft miles of skin begging to hold the indentations of his fingers, the ribbon adorning her wrists—he breathes out. Then he loosens his tie and starts to unbutton his shirt. He kicks his shoes off and unzips his slacks. Y/N turns her head to the side, seeing Harry’s clothes fall to the floor out of the corner of her eye. She wriggles in excitement and Harry gives her ass an affectionate tap.

“Hips up,” he says, reaching over her to grab a pillow and stuff it underneath her body. Harry is sure he’s never seen a more beautiful view. “I’m so lucky to have you,” he kisses the bottom of her spine. Y/N exhales a shaky breath, feeling as though she’s drifting peacefully in a vast ocean—as Harry caresses her skin slowly, surely, taking her all in.

She could so easily profess something silly in this moment.

“Harry,” she says instead.

“Yes, darling?”

“Will you untie me, please?”

He reaches up for her hands immediately, pulling the ends of the ribbon and letting it fall up her arms and flutter to the sheets. “Are y’hurting?”

Y/N shakes her head, letting her limbs fall heavy beside her head, “Want you to hold them,” she whispers.

Harry kisses her cheek, “Let me get a condom. What do you say if you want me to stop?”

“Yellow or Red,” she replies, eyes closing delicately. She could probably fall asleep and dream of that everlasting ocean. But then the mattress shifts, and safe, warm hands glide up her back.

“You’re so lovely,” he murmurs. Y/N hears the ripping of a wrapper, and the silence of Harry rolling on the condom. She feels his hands adjusting her hips, pulling at her bum. “Such pretty holes,” he mutters to himself. Y/N whines and buries her head into the pillow, humiliated and overwhelmed with anticipation. But then Harry runs a thumb over her untouched entrance and her head comes shooting back up. “Shh, shh, I’m just feeling you. I can’t wait to play with you here.”

“Harry,” Y/N complains, butterflies going rampant in her tummy. She can’t wait either, it seems.

His hands drop to the backs of her thighs, thumbs brushing the outside of her lips. Then they leave her skin and a familiar thickness swipes through her, tapping against her clit momentarily. Instinctively, Y/N wants to push up on her knees, but Harry keeps her flat with a palm to the bottom of her spine. “You g’na take Daddy like a good girl?”

A shiver runs through her, “Yes—yes, yes.” She takes a deep breath.

“That’s it,” his voice is tight as he watches himself get swallowed around her. He wants to be cruel—wants to keep just the head snug inside of her, pull out, push back in, pull out, nudge it around her clit… He thinks about it—he does. But he just can’t bear the thought. She’s so warm and squeezes him with every breath; pulling out would be sacrilege. “This little pussy loves me, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir,” Y/N whines, every inch forcing the breath from her lungs.

Harry smacks her ass, holding firmly onto her hip when she jolts, “Yes, who?” pushing in deeper as she struggles to process his question. His palm comes down on the other side. “Yes, who?”

Y/N wants to push her body back, feel the weight of Harry’s balls snug against her clit, prod the space inside of her that he is so familiar with. But she takes too long to answer. She must do—because Harry starts to pull out and Y/N’s heart plummets. No, no, no.

“Daddy! Yes, Daddy.” Her face burns. “Please—please don’t leave me.”

His hips stutter. He knows what she means. Literally—she doesn’t want him to leave her, literally. To pull out entirely. But the way it sounds… It sounds like… 

Harry pushes back in. All the way. He leans his immense body over Y/N’s pretty back and entwines his fingers with hers that lie beside her head—just as she’d asked. His big palms holding and protecting. She all but disintegrates into the bed, a relieved sob leaving her lips as Harry’s weight presses her down and he kisses her cheek. Her eyes struggle to stay open; the overwhelming fullness inside of her and the compression of Harry’s body, it’s peace incarnated.

“Does that feel good, baby? Daddy’s thick cock filling you up.”

“Mhm. S—so, so…” She weakly squeezes Harry’s fingers, blissful sigh falling from her lips. But when Harry starts to pull his hips back—having let Y/N adjust—her grip tightens. “Please. Stay.”

Harry is only surprised for a moment, and then he says, “Stay? How am I supposed to fuck you if I don’t move, darlin’?” Y/N pushes her bum back into him, silently begging. “You jus’ want me nice and deep in you, yeah? Is that right?”

“Yes, please.”

“Does this make you happy?” His voice softens and he unlinks one of their hands so he can trace Y/N’s hairline, behind her ear, across her cheek, down the bridge of her nose. He’s never seen her so content. He’d thought he had before, when she was with him, specifically. But this moment, right here—this is the most tranquil he’s ever seen anyone. “Yeah? Are you happy, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy, ‘m so happy—thank you.”

Harry nudges her chin and captures her lips. It’s awkward from the position she’s in, neck stretching to reach him, but it’s perfect. It’s intimate, and trusting, and says so much with no words. They look like the perfect depiction of raw, human connection.

They kiss and Harry stays atop Y/N in mind-numbing serenity. He’ll shift his hips inside of her and her mouth will stop responding to his, slack against his lips as he licks into and against her tongue. Everything is slow. And maybe Harry hadn’t necessarily planned this pace but he likes it—it makes sense.

He starts to grind his hips into her bum and Y/N tightens up. “Relax, sweet girl, know it feels good but relax.” Harry thinks if his dick wasn’t screaming at him to chase pleasure, that he’d be happy to stay like this forever. In the most intimate and warm of embraces. He retracts ever so slightly, not enough for Y/N to complain about, and then sinks back in. Flush against her body. She squeezes around him and Harry can feel how wet her walls are. A part of him wants to fuck her hard enough to hear it too.

They fall into a rhythm. A slow, intense rhythm. One that builds up to the type of orgasm that overwhelms a person so much, they can never forget it. Almost a core memory. One they think about; the way it consumed their entire being—for vivid minutes—and left their body weak and pliant. Y/N’s muscles give in completely, allowing Harry to nudge all the right places with every single twitch of his hips. 

She’s mewling—a constant stream of pathetic noises—and Harry’s finding it hard not to do the same. He can feel the increase of the pulsating around him. “You’re close, baby.” He doesn’t need to inquire—he knows. “Hold it. Can you do that f’me?” Y/N moans, the side of her face smushed against the pillow. She hasn’t had one coherent thought for the last ten minutes, so she surely can’t start now. She can’t hold it, not really; she’s never had to before. But Harry doesn’t need her to, as such. He’s sure his orgasm is just as close as hers. “Darlin’, tell Daddy you’ll hold it.” It’s still fun though.

“I—I’ll ho—hold it, Daddy,” she slurs, crushing Harry’s fingers. His chest is flush to her back and his hips to her bum. He unlinks one of their hands to curl a bulging bicep around her throat, dewy face pressing into her cheek as he whispers expletives to her. Murmurs of how good she is for him, his good fucking girl. Daddy’s so proud and he loves you so much—

Except—No. He can’t say that. It lingers on the tip of his tongue but he pushes it back down and swallows uncomfortably around it. Daddy’s so proud and he wants you to come for him. Yeah. That’s right.

Y/N nestles her mouth around the skin of his arm—the inside of his elbow—attempting to burrow her nose into his flesh and muscle as she whimpers and whines. Her tummy is swirling and her heart is racing and it feels so good her eyes are watering. “Pleathe,” she muffles around his skin. And Harry can feel it too, the way it builds for them both. A fusion of throbbing, and ecstasy, and something so monumental they feel as though they’re the only two people alive. Because how could there be other people living when Y/N and Harry felt so good?

“Come on, baby. I can feel it, give it t’me.”

Y/N clenches around him as he nudges so deep and then releases Harry’s arm to beg, “Inside, inside, please.”

It nearly ruins everything, the sudden disappointment that washes over him at remembering his inability to do so. But he plays along—after all, Harry loves to play. “Yeah? Y’want Daddy to fill you up? Want his warm come dripping out of you, baby? You’re so dirty.” 

She nearly comes then, just from his words alone. But then he reaches his other hand down, roughly shoves it underneath her body and finds her clit easily. Y/N might as well have exploded. She withers, she disintegrates, she is dismantled to nothing but a shaking mess as she orgasms. Her body trembles and her throat releases high pitched cries, trailing off into tired moans as a few tears escape over her waterline. All while Harry bites down on her shoulder, holding off as long as he can for no good reason. To stay coherent enough to witness Y/N at her most beautiful, perhaps. But her cunt quivers around him, squeezing and releasing so quickly that he can’t help but finally let himself come. 

“Oh, yeah— f—fuckin’ shit.” He buries his face in the back of Y/N’s hair, holding as much of her as he possibly can with the arm around her front. His fingers cease on her clit shakily, thumping down next to their bodies as he tries to support his weight. It’s fruitless, and he lets his chest mould to Y/N’s back as the last of his release fills the condom. He came a lot and he’s almost upset that he can’t fall asleep right now. But Y/N is still trembling and his instincts kick in once again.

“Good girl, baby. My best girl. You did so well,” he whispers, adjusting his hands so they’re holding himself above her. He dots kisses wherever on her face he can reach. A tear falls down the bridge of her nose and he sponges his lips to it. “Can you talk to me? Are these happy tears?” Y/N nods clumsily, stiffly trying to turn onto her back. Harry pauses her. “Let me pull out, sweetheart. Breath in f’me. There you go, darlin’, let’s see your pretty face proper.”

He doesn’t get much of a chance, however, as Y/N launches her heavy arms around his shoulders and urges him to lay on top of her again. Harry laughs gently, wrapping his arms around her back. She exhales contentedly. “You made me stop thinking,” her throat tightens. “I didn’t have to think.”

Harry squeezes her, “You don’t have to start again yet. You don’t ever have to think when you’re with me.”

Silence overtakes them for a while. Harry has rolled over so that Y/N is lying on top of him. Then he says, “I’m sorry, baby.”

Y/N frowns and props her chin on his chest. “What for?”

“If I had known you were floating away earlier, I wouldn’t have made you come home.”

She shakes her head. “It’s okay… I think—I think I’ve been like that before. Not sexually but… when I’m having a bad day I can go a bit… weird.”

“It’s not weird. You just get into a headspace. That’s what I’m here for. It doesn’t have to be sexual all of the time.”

They talk. They talk, and talk, and talk.

About her subspace, and the office, and the… friends thing.

“I didn’t know you liked to be so… so mean.” She treads carefully. She doesn't want him to think she doesn’t like it.

“I like control… which you give me plenty of already but—sometimes I need to be rough, sometimes I need to be angry.”

“You were angry? Earlier?”

“Not angry… frustrated. I was frustrated and I was a hypocrite, actually, and I shouldn’t have turned it into a sex thing.”

“I didn’t mind.”

He laughs, “I know but…I don’t want to get into that habit, love.”

“But…” she pauses. Harry looks at her and raises an eyebrow. “You said we’d talk about… about certain types of play.”

He hums, “I did. You like being tied, yeah? Like being restrained?”

Y/N nods, her chin moving against his chest. She’s more honest in this state. “I think… doing what you tell me to do… is the thing.”

“Mhm. I do too. You’re not gagging for silk, you’re gagging to be given orders and to have me do as I please to you.”

“Maybe,” she admits coyly, flattening her forehead to his sternum. Harry sinks his hand into her hair and tugs lightly in response. Then she purposely speaks so that it is near impossible for him to hear.

Harry still picks up certain, important words. “I can’t come in you, baby. Not unless we discuss it first.”

“Let’s discuss it now!” Y/N lifts her head up again, a hopeful glint in her eye.

Harry pinches her arse. “No. Later, I promise.”

Silence befalls once again, and they really ought to get up, pee, clean up, eat dinner. But Harry asks one more thing of Y/N. “What have I taught you today?” He echoes his words from when the pair were hidden away in his office.

She answers with no hesitation. “I’m yours.”

Y/N wouldn’t say she had purposefully littered her personality around Harry’s home, but when you spend more time somewhere than you do your own house, it tends to happen.

She buys some fridge magnets one day. A pack of letters—one of each in the alphabet—and the numbers zero to nine. Which, even as she is buying them she thinks, how ridiculous—that you can only spell words that don’t require more than one of the same letter. And yet she pays for them anyway.

She thinks about what she’ll spell out on her own fridge—but she’s too impatient to ponder for longer than a couple of minutes, sure that they’ll just be displayed in alphabetical order and reveal a true lack of imagination. 

Somehow, they end up on Harry’s fridge, and Y/N finds that she’s much happier with that. Now she could leave him swear words and other insignificant things alike. Peas, Crow, Nip, Oink. Once she spelt out C-U-N-T but felt it too inappropriate for kitchen decor and quickly changed the C for a P.

Whatever word Y/N chooses to leave for the day has always been altered by the end of it; the silent game between Harry and her soon becoming a reason to peek at the fridge unnecessarily just to see if their letters have been rearranged. If he is up before Y/N, the morning light makes his head especially saccharine and the magnets are always spelling sweet names. Love, Pet, Angel, Darling. But by the evening, he’s a little less soppy. Stinky, Mush, Gremlin, Bean.

Y/N once spelled out I Love You (using the zero as the second O) just to see what it would look like but felt like she was doing something naughty and quickly disorganised them in a far from natural manner.

Then Harry buys her some little strawberry magnets and places them on her fridge without telling her. When she sees them, it makes her heart skip a beat. Along with the dozens of clothes he continues to purchase for her, his wardrobe has been considerably disturbed and he figures he ought to leave his mark somewhere in her home too. If not her wardrobe then her fridge would do just fine. But there's really no competition, because if you were to take a peek inside of his dresser, Harry’s clothes would be generously making room there too for Y/N’s—something she always feels guilty about but Harry denies her any opportunity to move anything to her own home. 

He wants to tell her to do the opposite. To take everything from her house and put it in his. But he doesn’t. And he won’t.

He’ll just keep relishing over seeing her shoes by the front door, her shampoo in his shower, and her charger plugged in next to his bed.

The stomach has an interesting relationship with the brain. And the brain has an interesting relationship with the heart.

Because Y/N’s heart tells her (and has been for longer than she wants to admit) that she’s fallen in love with Harry… but her brain refuses to take love—as an option entirely—into consideration. And at the same time, on a particularly bleak weekday evening, her stomach says that it’s threatening violence if she doesn’t eat something and her brain translates that to a complete dismantlement of her capability.

It’s funny (only in retrospect) that being hungry can result in such a drastic change in one’s behaviour. That an empty tummy can make even the gentlest of souls behave erratically—so suddenly full of anger that even the smallest of things can make them explode.

Y/N has had a bad day… and… well… Every day is a bad day for Y/N. When you hate your job—hate working, even—every single day ends in dread for the next. And sometimes, every so often for Y/N, things start to build up. It’s slow and steady, and can take weeks if not months to lead to a breakdown. But she does break down… and it happens far too often for the average person to deem healthy.

Today she’s reaching her limit.

It’s just something she can feel brewing, from the moment she wakes up. And there’s no denying that her life has improved drastically in recent times. That waking up now fills her with the excitement of being able to see Harry again, instead of what was once a solemn reminder that she was still living the same old, uneventful, depressing life. She didn’t even class it as a life. Y/N was just existing.

But Harry isn’t a drug. He can’t calm the buzzing in Y/N’s head, all the time. He can distract, sure. But he can’t cure.

So when Y/N woke up with the knowledge that she was going to Harry’s house after work and it didn’t get her through the day with ease, she knew her balloon of stress was about to pop.

Her body feels heavy as she unlocks the grand door to the home she’s spent more time in than her own, recently. Except there’s no Harry to kiss her hello, to take her bag and to sweep her off her feet. No. Because he’s still working. Because that’s what he does. The same as always, and yet today it breaks her heart.

Classically and disastrously, a telling sign that Y/N’s period is due makes itself known as a cramp sears through her abdomen. Which only upsets her further. Because, really, where is the necessity of pain before the bleeding has even begun. Where is the respite? And not so long ago, Y/N would have walked past the kitchen and fallen face first onto her bed. But knowing she has someone now that will care very deeply if she doesn’t eat dinner has her feet heading for shining tiles. Y/N doesn’t know if she could take a punishment today. Not a punishment fuelled by genuine disappointment, anyway. Maybe if Harry swatted her hard enough it would rewire her brain.

But now that she’s acknowledged the existence of food, Y/N is suddenly aware of the intense hunger beating in her stomach. And she’s too tired. Too weak to try and make anything, or do anything. She just wants to lie down. The island becomes a surface intended for rest as Y/N transfers her weight to her forearms and lets her head turn into a dead weight on her shoulders as it hangs down. Just for a moment. Just for a moment that feels impossible to physically shift from. She could sleep standing; it’s not impossible.

Her empty insides howl. Gurgle, and moan, and fuss. Y/N groans pitifully into the counter.

Sluggish movements carry her to the fridge—pulling the door open with the strength similar to that of a baby bird. Leftovers greet her like awkward friends in an uncomfortable situation. Desperately attempting to lighten the mood and only twisting the knife further. Because Y/N doesn’t want lasagne. And it nags at her, the voice of her mother exclaiming, “If you were really hungry, you’d eat it.” Which holds logic, it does. Y/N is hungry and she should want anything to quell that need but her brain doesn’t accept that. Her brain sees leftover lasagne and decides that it would rather starve—despite normally enjoying the meal.

Tears brim over Y/N’s waterline, frustration and exhaustion threatening to drip down her cheeks. Why was something so simple causing this much trouble? How could she be letting the concept of dinner make her cry?

But then she hears Harry, soft encouragement echoing in her skull. He’d tell her that he understood. That he knows she doesn’t want to eat but she will do to make him happy. To go to bed with a nice full stomach and take good care of herself.

And that outweighs everything. 

She reaches out for the ceramic dish, cold numbing her hands and tugs it to the counter. Even looking at it makes her frown. But Y/N finds a plate, and a serving spoon, and a knife, and a fork. She lays them all out in preparation, so orderly and neat. So much so that she doesn’t know how it happens. It shouldn’t happen—and it wouldn’t if she were another person or herself on another day—but today is a bad day, as previously mentioned. 

Perhaps she tugs the lasagne too quickly, or surprises herself with the amount of strength she uses. But the plate gets shoved too close to the edge. Close but not over. Not until Y/N panics to keep it on the counter and instead of guiding her hand underneath, she manages to knock it downwards and watch—in what feels like—three times speed as it crashes to the floor.

It’s far too loud. It’s piercing to Y/N’s tired ears. And it’s the icing on the cake of her poorly concealed feelings. The tears start to stream without constraint as the picture of shattered porcelain starts to blur.

The sound of the smash masks the opening of the front door. But whilst Y/N doesn’t hear Harry, Harry hears her, and he comes rushing into the kitchen with purpose. Her back is to him when he asks, “Have you hurt yourself?”

Y/N jumps, a wet gasp tearing from her throat. She spins around reflexively, unable to wipe away the tears on her saturated skin first.

Harry’s face falls. “Oh, my love. Did you cut yourself?”

Y/N wipes at her face frantically, head shaking. The broken plate taunts her from the floor, its jagged pieces begging her to get closer—to slice her skin on the sharp edges. Perhaps that would carve some sense into her. “No,” she forces out, her voice thick.

“What’s the matter?” He steps around the mess, comforting palms smoothing over shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, refusing to meet his eye.

“It’s just a plate,” Harry brushes it off. “What’s upset you, sweetheart?”

Y/N can only cry harder—her mind suddenly insistent on the reminder that she’s falling hopelessly in love as Harry’s soft, gentle voice caresses her soul. And love doesn’t help. Not right now. It makes her sob louder. Usually, Y/N is a woman of few words. Often nervous words, in a less than manic manner. But once she starts, it’s difficult to stop for long enough to claw back composure.

“I’m… hungry,” she blubs, eyes squeezing shut as she tries to inhale. “And tired—and my period is about to start. And I hurt. And I hate my job….I don’t—want to do it anymore. ‘m not ha—happy. And I want to go to bed,” she trails off in quivers, wet fingertips digging into fragile features.

Harry breathes for her, a slow, deep inhale as he processes all of her emotions. “Okay,” he whispers, large hand scratching the back of her head in hypnotic motions. Y/N’s face falls against his chest. Strong and steady, unmoving against her wracking body. He murmurs into the top of her head, “You’re as safe as you could possibly be right now. I’ve got you.”

And that’s exactly what she’s worried about.

The thick grogginess that comes with intense, painful crying is starting to fog up Y/N’s head. She’s never stepped away from Harry’s embrace before but that’s precisely what she finds herself doing. Harry doesn’t question it with the same ferocity that is plaguing Y/N’s thoughts; she’s not in a good place, after all. “One thing at a time, let’s get some food in you, yeah?”

What is realistically a simple request that Y/N would never refuse otherwise, has her head shaking from side to side once more. She doesn’t want to eat. She wants to sleep.

“No?” Harry cocks his head, palms outstretched in front of him in a silent expectancy that she’ll slip back into his hold. “I don’t know that I was asking you, darling. I believe I’m telling you. You know you need to eat.”

It feels foreign to disobey. But Y/N needs to protect herself, she needs to protect Harry, she needs to push these feelings down. “I don’t want to eat.” Her voice hardens. It’s jarring and more tears spill.

“I want you to eat. And you will. Because I know what’s best for you.” He stays gentle, somehow. His words are statements—orders—and yet his cadence stays wonderfully light. Y/N agrees with him; that he knows best, but it doesn’t translate to her mouth.

Or her head as she shakes it fervently, struggling to maintain eye contact as she looks up at Harry’s impressively calm face. His previously styled hair now falling over his forehead in delicious swirls. The dreamy slope of his nose that points towards his stubble dusted cupid’s bow and raspberry tinted lips. His beautiful face stays blank—not implying of any emotion.

“I’m not going to punish you. Or shout at you, or scold you, or do whatever it is you think you deserve. I can see it, darlin’. I know you’re tired, I know your head hurts you. I wish I could take it all away.” Y/N’s lip quivers and she sniffles loudly. Her eyes pinch shut, refusing to cry anymore, but it’s fruitless. Especially when Harry hoists her up by her waist and encourages her thighs to wrap around his body. The immediate relief from holding her own weight has Y/N lugging her arms over his shoulders and burying her wet face into his neck. He holds her tight, strong arms wrapped around with no intention of letting go as Y/N cries.

She thinks she starts to fall asleep, uncaring of Harry’s silent movements around the kitchen as she stays latched on. Half-consciously does she recognise the sounds of the microwave and the gentle nudging of broken porcelain with his foot into a pile he’ll clean up later. She hears him taking the lasagne out and her stomach certainly takes note of the smell, despite how fervently she refused to want it.

He hoists them both up on the counter, Y/N’s knees knocking a little against the hard surface. “G’na eat now, okay?” Harry says softly into the side of her head. The tears have ceased, but her face is very much melded to his neck with cold, salty trails.

Y/N shakes her head, “Tired.”

“I know, sweetheart. Let me see you.”

It’s embarrassing—to peel her face away. To show herself at her lowest, mentally and physically. And she knows the least relevant thing right now is how attractive she looks, but in the lap of a man that she’s sure has never been less than stunning, it’s intimidating and Y/N can’t help but have it on her mind. Along with everything else.

But she listens and Harry praises her for it.

“Hi, baby. You look so pretty,” dancing his fingertips around her hairline to bury behind her ears.

Y/N can’t help but snort—the sight relieving to Harry. “I’m crying.”

“I know. Call me a sadist, then, but you’re still pretty.” He doesn’t elaborate on how the wet clumping of her eyelashes makes her look something akin to a mermaid that guards the key to his heart at the bottom of an enchanted lake or that the shining of her cheeks begs to be kissed and soothed by his lips.

Although it seems she can hear his thoughts when she says, “You’re silly.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Stop!” Her hands meet his chest in a light thump and he smiles.

“Let me feed you?”

And that… that does sound quite nice. But there was something about this height of emotion that was making Y/N stubborn. So she doesn’t respond. Verbally or non. She looks at Harry, at his soft sea-glass green and stays silent. He brushes her wet cheeks with his thumbs, leaning forward to press the soft pillow of his lips to the tense space between her eyes.

Then he drops his voice to a tender brush of air against her forehead, “Do this f’me. Do this for Daddy,” and Y/N leans back with glistening eyes open wide to see as much of him as possible. It clears the fog a little, that one, small word. The dissolvement of responsibility—her weight supported by Harry, her face framed in his hands and her mouth the only thing she’d need to worry about when she inevitably gives in. When she nods slightly and curls her fingers into the back of his shirt. In return, Harry sinks his hand into the back of her hair, close to her scalp, and tugs a little. Not hard—just enough to feel tight and secure. “Good girl.”

For a moment, Y/N can’t even remember what she was crying about. And when she does recall, it doesn’t feel like such a big deal anymore.

Harry scoots further onto the island to allow room between them to hold Y/N’s dinner. Her knees are starting to ache against the surface but she doesn’t say anything. Not when she’s finally on the precipice of feeling peaceful. Not when Harry holds a mouthful up to his lips and blows gently to make sure the steaming pasta doesn’t burn her. Not when he hums quietly as Y/N accepts the food and her eyes flutter shut in contentment. 

One thing at a time, as Harry had said. Maybe he couldn’t quell her overworked brain but he could relish in her relaxed brows as he fed her. And then he could carry her to his bed (now just as much hers as it was his own—especially with the sprinkling of products and clothes alike decorating his furniture) and help her fall into a much needed slumber.

When it comes to it (going to bed), Y/N plucks up the courage to put on her comfiest nightie that she’d stowed away in Harry’s dresser for a bad day. It’s not inherently embarrassing to wear a nightie but… what’s on it makes Y/N feel a little silly. Cartoon Ariel and Flounder underneath a banner that reads ‘100% Mermaid’… She’d had it a little while. And it’s not that she worries that Harry will make her feel stupid but it does make her look a little childish—it’s hardly lingerie.

But she needn’t have worried when Harry takes her tired brain and cradles it in his hands—spews some filth like he can’t help it—and calms the bothersome thoughts. “Why would you think, when I can see your nipples hardening through the material, and you’ve got your pretty legs all bare, and when I hold you tonight as your little nightie rucks higher and higher up and over your ass for such easy access, that I would give a shit about what’s printed on it? Would you rather me say that my dick goes limp at the sight, darling?”

It’s safe to say she learns to love the way it looks.

Harry notices a change in Y/N’s behaviour.

It’s subtle to begin with—something he doesn’t question straight away—because he wants to figure out what’s going on without making her aware.

Little things like forcing Harry to ask her more than once to do something—Come here, sit down, stand up. They might sound disrespectful from an outside perspective but that’s how the pair operate. Y/N likes being told. But recently she has been hesitating, literally and figuratively. She’ll abide only after Harry has asked two or three times, and on multiple occasions she will say something he deems bratty (“Make me,” tends to be her favourite) and trail off with big eyes—as though she’s waiting for him to punish her for it.

He never bites. He thinks he can tell that she wants him to; he never does. It never feels natural, never comfortable in his heart.

And then there’s the breaking of rules. Which he takes far more seriously. Not even to protect his ego but because Y/N’s rules are set in place to keep her healthy—and Harry cares about nothing more than her health.

When Harry first served Y/N fruit for breakfast, along with her magnificent blueberry pie he begrudgingly loved, it was obvious that Y/N wasn’t entirely impressed. She still ate it all, and grabbed a slice of toast as well (very much encouraged by Harry) but it wasn’t her deliciously disgusting cereal that she so often tucked into. So, being the kind, caring man that he is, Harry decided to find a way to increase her enjoyment of a healthy breakfast.

He did so with cookie cutters. Because Y/N appreciates cute, thoughtful gestures that don’t necessarily change one’s life but look nice on the eye and make things feel pretty. So he buys stars, and hearts, and flowers, and spends his time pushing fruit through them and presenting them nicely in a bowl. Just for Y/N. 

And she loves it. Her eyes go all big, just the way Harry admires, her hands clasp and come up to her chest, and she responds as though he’s made some sort of grand gesture. He thinks she’s adorable, and watches her eat with a satisfied smile when she makes no complaint and bobs from side to side with such a sweet expression on her face.

That’s how he first gathers that something is off, because he knows she loves her breakfast now, so why is she suddenly refusing it? Why is she suddenly so insistent that she needs to have pain au chocolat or a fry up or something else just as equally soaked in oil or butter? Harry doesn’t give in, he doesn’t get angry. He tries to compromise with her in as calm a voice as ever, which he’ll admit he’s not used to having to do—because Y/N is never usually so argumentative.

Never so argumentative and never so absent whilst he was speaking to her. Like she’s trying to tune him out, or her thoughts are overpowering the sound of his voice. That frustrates Harry—feeling ignored, feeling unworthy of her attention—and he nearly snaps at her a few times for it. Somehow he maintains the patience and restraint not to, and is able to bring her back with a stroke of his knuckles over her skin. It feels wrong though, like they’re taking a step backwards, or like she is. Like she’s hiding herself away again. And he hates it.

But they still haven’t even had their first argument yet, though Harry feels it might be on the horizon.

It’s a cold, rainy day when that fact of their relationship changes.

The couple are at Y/N’s house for a change, huddled together on the sofa in a sweet exchange of kisses. Soft patterings against glass create the most wonderful ambience, like little fairies dancing on the keys of a piano, as the quiet smacking of lips fills in the gaps.

Harry’s arm, cloaked cosily in a thick, knitted jumper, rests around Y/N’s shoulder. Their heads are turned to the side in a way that suggests it was only meant to be one kiss—that inevitably turned into ten minutes of nothing else. Y/N’s fingers curl into the thigh of Harry’s joggers and his into the back of her hair as they sigh into each other’s mouths. Sweet balm is transferred to and fro, unable to identify who first applied the product.

When Y/N’s neck gets tired, she falls back to rest against the sofa; Harry follows in smooth motions, free hand coming to prop himself up on the other side of her body. He pulls away slightly, registering their reclining position and feeling his heart hammer at the sight of Y/N’s spit-slicked lips, plump from his own. She reaches behind his back to push him down onto her again, desperate pawing still remaining lethargic and unhurried.

He nestles her top lip in between his own two, nose squishing into the soft of her cheek. It comes out so blissfully, a harmless comment that turns sour—what he assumes is a hopeless display of how happy he is in this moment. Of how much he wishes he could stay like this for the rest of his life, as he whispers into her skin, “Y’should quit y’job.” Y/N doesn’t register it straightaway, too caught up in the heaven of Harry’s kiss—but when she does, her body stiffens.

He stops too, confused and suddenly worried he’s said something else. But she looks up at him with a nervous expression, like she has so much she wants to say but can’t possibly imagine articulating any of it. Despite having been somewhat out of it, Y/N remembers when he’d first asked her. In the shower, after changing her life on his sun lounger. She’d been able to play it off then, fuelled by dopamine and sleepy courage. But now… now it scares her. Now she doesn’t know what to say or how to say it.

Harry leans back further, eyes darting around her face as if to check for physical damage. “What’s wrong?” Almost as if controlled by a person, the rain hardens and thunder booms in the distance.

She jumps and shakes her head instinctively, despite her brain drowning in worry. “Nothing,” she whispers, hesitant hand scrunching into the front of his jumper to encourage him back. 

“Don’t do that.” He’s gentle, grasping her fingers and entwining them with his, but his rejection sears deep. “You clammed up, baby. Talk to me.”

Y/N’s skin itches. “I— When you—,” she exhales, “Do you mean that?”

“That you should quit your job?” She nods. “I do. I do mean it. Do you not like that idea?”

She wants to more than anything. “I—I can’t.”

Harry’s patient. “And why not, darling?”

Y/N thinks that would be her dream come true. After all, the first night she’d met Harry she inadvertently spewed how happy she’d be not to work, and Niall had so obviously proclaimed her displeasure. But how could she actually, genuinely stop working and not feel completely using of Harry? They aren’t living together, they aren’t in love—at least not from his perspective, surely—they aren’t even conventionally matched. Because certainly, someone like Harry; someone so important and beloved, deserved a person on his arm that was confident, and flashy, and impressive in their own right. Y/N can hear him telling her how ridiculous of a notion that is, as she thinks it. But anxiety isn’t always rational.

What falls from her mouth hardly hits the tip of the iceberg. “I— It’s— I’d feel bad.”

“You’d feel bad?” Harry asks. He’s trying to think about this from her perspective. Understands, maybe, the initial hesitancy. It’s a big thing, to stop working, to rely on someone else but… what they have feels secure, it feels good. He thought she’d love the idea. “I need you to explain it to me, Y/N.”

She panics just trying to order the words into some sort of acceptable speech. “No,” she shakes her head, “no, it’s fine. I’m sorry,” her heart drops when Harry sits back completely, removing all of his touch. “Please, I— I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We have to talk about this, darlin’. It’s not good to push stuff down.” Y/N doesn’t say anything. She sits there, gaze averted from Harry’s intense jade. When the silence tips over the edge of definitive, and Harry feels his grasp of the situation loosening, he sighs, “Okay,” and stands up. He leaves her alone on the sofa and takes himself stoically to her kitchen to stare out of the window at the bleak downpour soundtracking this moment.

“Harry?” He hears her call, confused and nervous. He thinks if she won’t talk to him then he’ll just remove himself altogether. What purpose does he serve being there if she can’t even look at him? “Harry?” Another call followed by quiet shuffling along floorboards. “Why are you ignoring me?” Her voice sounds sad—it makes his chest tight to know he’s the cause.

Harry takes a deep breath and turns around to take in her dejected appearance. She looks so much smaller when she’s upset. “I’m not going to have this lack of a conversation with you anymore. If you can’t talk to me then I will go home. You need time to think.” His tone of voice is hard—lacking in delicacy. It sounds meaner than he intends it to.

Y/N’s brain immediately goes haywire—she can almost feel her neural pathways shrivelling up, imploding, disappearing completely. He’s upset with her. Finally. It’s happened. She’s actually done it—he’s going to go home and never see her again. He’s going to block her number and return all her stupid clothes and disgusting shampoo in a box on her doorstep. What had first felt like an attempt to protect her heart in a sabotaging but worthwhile way (and save Harry from the stress in the process) doesn’t feel relieving in the slightest. It feels despicable.

“I’m sorry,” her lip quivers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Her lungs feel pea-sized, and her head feels thick. Tears blur her vision as she stands there in front of Harry like a little girl, crying over nothing. It’s made worse when he crouches down in front of her and encourages her knees to collapse around his body. He rubs her back soothingly, the warmth of his palms seeping through her cardigan, saying nothing but shushing gently into her hair.

After a while of Harry breathing deeply and slowly, and Y/N silently matching him, he speaks up. “I’m going to talk now. You don’t have to say anything, just listen t’me, okay?” She nods into his neck. The longer she can stay here, the longer she can avoid the humiliation of looking him in the eye after bursting into tears. “I think you should quit your job. I’ve known you loathed it since I met you—I encouraged you, in fact—that your want to stay at home isn’t silly. And not even a whole week ago you were telling me you hated it. You do so much for me, my love. Whilst still working. You bake wonderful treats, you clean everything despite me imploring that you do not have to. You breathe life into every room. You give me someone to come home to. And above all, you make me so, incomparably happy. Every single day. 

“What about me wanting to share my wealth with you makes you so uncomfortable? I just want to provide for you the way you provide for me. And quite frankly, I haven’t been strict enough. I shouldn’t encourage you to work all day and still try to take care of me, especially when you don’t take well enough care of yourself. But that’s my job, yeah? Why won’t you let me do my job?”

Y/N’s breath quivers, “Y-you still want to?” peeking out from Harry’s freshly soaked neck.

“Of course I d—” He pauses and his expression turns to sadness. “Oh, darlin’. You didn’t think… Just because of a little argument? This is the tamest argument I’ve ever had in my entire life, baby.” Her face burns. “It is so normal for couples to fight. I’m not going to do anything drastic, don’t be so silly.” He pushes his lips to her hairline, feigning calm despite his heart weighing heavily in his chest. “Now come on,” his thumbs swipe underneath her eyes, “talk to me, please.”

“It’s just—” her fingers pick at the skin around her nails. “I feel so guilty. Because I’m so needy a-and you do so much for me already. And money is… money is a big thing. I don’t want to be a—” she whispers it, “—a gold-digger.” Harry opens his mouth but Y/N continues, staring at her hands, “We don’t li—live together, we’ve known each for months, it—it feels too good to be true. I don’t know.”

“You’re worrying about societal standards, lovely. You’re not a gold-digger and time doesn’t have to mean a thing.” He kisses the space between her eyes. “Look, we’ve discussed it now. I’m so proud of you. We don’t have to do a single thing else, just think about it, okay?”

Y/N looks up at the man who she loves more than anything in the entire world and feels her lips twitch ever so slightly into a small smile. It’s not the most authentic of smiles she’s ever displayed. But she still means it. And suddenly she wishes to tell him—she wishes to but she won’t. Not today. She feels proud of herself because Harry does, decides she’s been vulnerable enough as she nods and squeezes her arms underneath his armpits. 

But this feeling of invincibility, the relief of having a cry and having someone there to soothe her—the adrenaline won’t last long—and maybe she should have confessed her feelings before the doubts returned.

[fangirlika]

Hello! I don't know if you're up to writing smut (if not you can just ignore it haha), but maybe you could write something about reader not being very experienced and Charles, for teaching purposes, offers her some private lessons/tutoring, letting her do whatever she wants to him? Not in super kinky way, just getting to know his body and kind of exploring it ^^

sweet and hot at the same time, we love to see it! Loved the “for teaching purposes” hahaha Thank you for your request, I hope you like it!

Learning Hours

MASTERLIST

pairing: Charles Leclerc x female!reader

summary: you and Charles have been friends for a long time, however, the sexual tension between the two of you was there pretty much since the beginning. It was just that Charles, in contrast to you, was a lot more experienced. Time to share the knowledge, right?

warnings: nsfw, smut, porn with a little plot lol, oral (m receiving), typos probably

a/n: I got carried away with this ahhh I hope you enjoy it

“Oh come on, Y/n!”, Charles said as he sat on your bed, his head leaning against the headboard. “When was the last time you got laid? Last weekend?”

For context, the two of you somehow ended up in a conversation about how often the other one had sex over the past year. It was a joke, a lighthearted conversation between you guys.

You and Charles had been friends for what felt like a lifetime, hence, you were comfortable with him no matter what topic you were talking about.

In Charles' case it was no secret that he had his fair share of one night stands, girls he was seeing for a longer time and also two actual relationships over the past years. You couldn’t blame any of the girls he was with, that man is too gorgeous for his own good.

You on the other hand, never participated in the so-called hook up culture. You never blamed anyone who did, in fact you couldn’t care less, but you never felt comfortable enough to just go home with someone after a night-out or to meet someone online.

You’re not a virgin though. No, you had that one boyfriend, he later turned out to be a total douche, but for the time being, he was good enough to show you the basics in bed - never something crazy or actually anything but boring missionary sex where you’ve almost never really gotten off.

Sometimes, your inexperience made you a little shy and talking about your sex life has never been a preferred topic for you. So you just scoffed in fake annoyance and replied: “Sure, and I assume that you just came back from yet another poor girl's house?”

Charles put his hand over his heart to feign hurt. “Wow, ma chérie, that was personal”, he said but couldn’t help but chuckle a little. But then he looked at you again and the look on his face was nothing but curious. “But seriously, when was the last time? You never went home with someone after we went out together and as far as I know there are no dating apps on your phone…”, he thought out loud.

You didn’t like where this conversation was going. The last thing you wanted this afternoon was to admit to your guy best friend that you haven’t gone further than kissing a guy at a bar ever since you broke up with your ex-boyfriend, Charles never liked him anyways.

“So?”, you simply replied and tried to look as indifferent to the conversation as you possibly could.

Charles seemed to be able to connect the dots on his own, one could practically see the gears turning inside his head. “You’re telling me you haven’t had any sex since that excuse of a boyfriend?” Charles looked almost shocked.

You just rolled your eyes, really wanting to end this conversation. “I never told you anything like that”, you hugged out in annoyance.

“But, I’m right, am I not?”, Charles said, now there was a cocky grin on his face which just annoyed you even more. Of course he would find humor in this. It’s not to humiliate you, you know that, but between you two and also Pierre and some other friends teasing comments like these were very common.

You don’t know why but today you did not want to be on the receiving end of these remarks. “Okay, you are”, you said and moved your eyes down to the strings of your hoodie you were absentmindedly playing around with. “Are you happy now?”

Charles immediately noticed the shift from your relaxed and sarcastic state to seeming uncomfortable in the situation you two were in. Quickly, he stumbled out an apology: “N-no, I didn’t mean it like that. There is nothing wrong with not doing it often, nothing wrong with being inexperienced or… or-“

“Just drop it, Charles”, you sighed. “I know that I could go home with someone when we go out, but quite frankly, I don’t really want to.”

“That is fine! There is no shame in that, really, please, I didn’t want to make you feel bad about yourself”, Charles continued to ramble. He always did that when he was nervous or embarrassed, you couldn’t deny that it was kind of cute.

“No, it’s not that. I think it’s just that my inexperience keeps me from doing it, or something like that”, you said quietly.

“How does that make sense?”, Charles asked in confusion but put his hand up in defense when he saw your annoyed glance at him.

“I don’t know…”, you danced around the answer. “My ex and I we never really did anything… new in bed.” It took everything in you to admit the truth to Charles. “I guess I just don’t want to embarrass myself when I’d actually end up in bed with someone…”

Charles listened attentively and turned his head to look at you with a smile. You still avoided his gaze and casted your eyes downwards but he still noticed the faint reddening of your cheeks. God, you were so cute.

“You can practice on me if you want.”

Your eyes widened and you abruptly turned your head to look at Charles. “What?”

Charles didn’t really think before he said it. It just came to his mind. But when he took a second to actually think about it, he just shrugged. “Why not? We have know each other forever and I promise you won’t embarrass yourself.”

You also thought about it. Was it really a good idea? Definitely not. But then again, why not try it?

“I don’t know, Charles…”, you sighed. “I wouldn’t want it to ruin our friendship, you know?”

Charles nodded understandingly. It was the last thing he wanted as well. He knew it was a thin line they were moving on but if it could help her, he would do anything. “It doesn’t have to”, he said. “We only go as far as you are comfortable with, nothing more.”

You listened and nodded slowly.

“It’s only for learning purposes”, he smirked and when you saw his face you couldn’t help but smile too, shaking your head a little. This was insane, wasn’t it?

“I’ll teach you how to make a man feel good and you can try anything as well, okay?”, Charles searched your eyes for permission.

“Okay”, you whispered and looked him in the eyes.

The two of you stared at each other for a long time but then Charles slowly leaned his head forward into your direction. He held his gaze onto yours as to look out for any sign of hesitation from you.

But there was none. So, he closed his eyes and when his lips were just mere centimetres away from yours he stopped for a second. You on the other hand didn’t want to wait any longer so you closed the remaining gap between you two and connected your lips.

Kissing Charles felt different from kissing any other guy you did before. And you weren’t sure if a best friend was supposed to make you feel like this with just a simple kiss.

He moved his hand to your neck and the other one around your back to pull you even closer. You obliged immediately and leaned into him.

Charles swiped his tongue over your lips and you opened them just a little bit so that he could slip his tongue into your mouth. You involuntarily moaned a little which caused Charles to smile into the kiss.

“Keep making those noises, chérie, that’s a great way to turn us on”, he teased but there was truth behind his words - he wanted to hear more of those little sounds from you.

You couldn’t help the heat rising to your cheeks when he said this. “Quit being a smart-ass and take your hoodie off, Leclerc.”

You don’t know where this sudden confidence came from but you somehow wanted to show him that you can make him feel good.

“Bossy, are we?”, Charles continued and only laughed a little at your warning glare. Nevertheless, he leaned away from you a little to take off his hoodie.

His next words were a little muffled because he struggled to get the hoodie over his head for a second: “Don’t worry, it’s ho-“

As he was busy taking his hoodie off he failed to notice that you were doing the same so when he threw it somewhere behind him and turned to look at you again his words got caught in his throat.

You were sitting in front of him only wearing a black bra to cover your boobs. In all of your years of friendship he has seen you wearing a bikini plenty of times and even sometimes he saw you in your underwear, but never in a context like this. He couldn’t help but stare.

You however failed to interpret his staring correctly and so you felt your insecurity rise up back again. You were about to bring your arms up and around your chest to cover up a little again but Charles immediately took ahold of your wrists.

“Non, none of that, you look beautiful”, he muttered and tried to reassure you with one of his gorgeous smiles. You were sure you would melt if he kept looking at you like that during all this.

“Can I kiss you again?”, he asked but already pulled you into him by your wrists. You simply nodded before your lips were on his again, this time a little sloppier and less sensual. But still, it knocked the air out of your lungs.

Maybe you would regret it later but there was no space in your mind to think about the consequences of your current actions right now. Everything you though or felt in this moment, was him.

Charles laid down and pulled you with him so that you were now laying on top of his upper body. You moved one of your legs over his waist so that you were straddling him. Your lips stayed connected the entire time.

The confidence came back to you as you pulled away from his lips only to press a soft kiss to his jaw, then just below his ear and a few on his neck. This wasn’t new for you but it still gave you reassurance when you heard Charles letting out a shaky breath and a quiet moan.

Charles moved his hands down your back to your hips, squeezing the skin there lightly.

“Are you okay with taking off your sweatpants, let me see you?”, he muttered when you continued to litter his neck with soft kisses.

You nodded and felt his hands make their way past the hem of your pants. You lifted your hips slightly to help him get them over your ass and down to your knees. You sat up to pull them off completely, causing you to sit on top of him in nothing but your black underwear.

The movement caused you to grind a little on his crotch, which you didn’t even take notice of until you heard him curse some word in French under his breath and felt him tighten his grip on your hips again.

“Oh, sor-“, you were about to apologise but Charles cut you off by shaking his head at you. “Don’t, it feels good but I really need you to do something about it”, he said with a smirk on his face. He tried to make you more comfortable and confident.

Charles moved his hands up your back a little to pull you down to his level again. “O-okay”, you just replied hesitantly. Charles noticed, looked at you and brought his right hand up to caress your cheek. “We can stop here if you don’t want to, continue some other time or we just forget about it but-“, you cut him off.

“No”, you said and shook your head. Smiling at him before you leaned down to his lips again. It was rough, both of you moving your lips against each other messily.

“Can I suck you off?”, you asked him between kisses, the sheer innocence in your voice making him crazy. “Shit”, he muttered under his breath, “yes, okay, yes.”

You grinned and gave his lips a quick peck before you lifted your head away from his and dragged your lips down his chest. “But, you have to guide me, I- I’ve never-“

“I got you, mon amour.”

You felt a jolt of heat rush down your body at his words. You knew Charles was sweet, he was a good guy but somehow you always thought that when it came to sex, he was more rough and rushed. But you appreciated him reassuring you.

You got off him for a moment so that he could take off his sweatpants as well. What you weren’t expecting though was that he also took off his boxers in one go, freeing his cock from its restraints. It was already semi-hard.

He was big. Were your first thoughts. Sure, you only had your ex for reference but you were pretty sure he was above average.

You looked at him briefly and he was still smiling reassuringly at you. “Start with stroking it a few times, okay?”, he said.

You nodded and did as he said. Sitting across his legs this time you bent down a little, licked your hand and loosely wrapped it around the base of his cock. You observed his reaction; another breathy moan at the contact. You moved your hand up and down once, twice, and with the third time you swiped your thumb over his tip, eliciting another shaky breath from him.

“Good?”, you just managed to ask and he nodded, “Yeah, use your mouth now, okay baby?”

You tried to ignore the nickname, amour or chérie were a regular by now but this was new. In this context, however, it really turned you on.

You hummed in agreement and slowly moved your head down to his cock, darting your tongue out to lick along the shaft.

“Keep going, use your tongue like that, yeah”, he mumbled. You did as he told you, licking up his entire length a few times before you swiped your tongue along his tip, giving it a few kitten licks.

Your shifted your gaze to look back up to him, your eyes connecting. Charles swore he could have died then and there. For a brief moment the thought of how they were supposed to go back to friends after this crossed his mind. He was unsure if he would be able to do that.

The sight of you like this in front of him sure burned itself into his mind for the rest of his being.

“Feels so good”, he moaned. When he felt your lips wrap around his tip it hit him unprepared, causing him to thrust his hips upwards a little into your mouth.

It caught you by surprise, your eyes widening for a moment. “Shit, sorry”, he started to apologise but you just continued to suck his tip a little.

“You are evil, Y/l/n”, he whispered with a smirk and you smiled back at him, as best as you could with his dick between your lips.

“Can you move down further?”, he almost pleaded. You wrapped your lips back around him and moved them down inch by inch. It wasn’t even half way in but you felt as if you’d start to gag around him if you’d go any deeper.

“So good, use your hand for the rest, if you can”, he said and moved one of his hands to your hair, gathering the strands that fell in front of your face and pushed them behind your ears.

You brought one of your hands around the base of his cock again while simultaneously continuing to take as much of his length as you could, trying to build a rhythm with your movements.

Charles leaned his head back against the headboard, the feeling of both your lips and your hand on his cock almost too much to take.

Sure, he had done this plenty of times before but for some reason this was a lot different, and much more intimate.

You didn’t stop your movements until you felt him twitch inside your mouth, causing you to look up at him through your lashes again.

“Merde, I’m close”, he muttered.

“Cum in my mouth, okay?”, you asked with a hoarse voice, pulling him out of your mouth for a moment.

Charles looked at you for confirmation. “Really?” Instead of giving him an answer you just wrapped your lips around him, sucked harshly once and then went down to take him until he almost hit the back of your throat.

Charles let out a groan and moved his hand to the back of your head, pulling on your hair slightly. This caused you to moan around him, the vibrations of it giving Charles the rest it took for him to release himself into your mouth.

You swallowed all of it without really thinking about it. You licked up his length another time before pulling off him.

Charles tried to control his breathing and when he looked at you again he smiled. “I don’t believe you when you say you never did that before”, he said with a cocky smirk back on his lips.

You let out a chuckle, not sure what to answer. It was true though, this was your first time doing that.

“Well, like I said, my ex wasn’t really experimental in bed…”, you said and looked down again. Charles sat up slightly and lifted to lay on his chest again.

“Well”, he begun as he smirked at you, “he sure missed out on something.”

You couldn’t help but smirk and shake his head at him. “You’re a menace, Leclerc.”

Charles hummed and placed one hand back on your cheek, his thumb caressing the soft skin there for a moment.

“I’m sure you won’t say that again after I returned the favor to you.” There was a questioning tone to his statement and you just lifted your head from his chest and raised an eyebrow.

“I guess we will have to see about that after…”

—————

Part 2 is up!

As always, feedback and reblogs are dearly appreciated <3

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

hey bff! can u do percy x a daughter of psyche? who has the gift of empathy and can heal emotional pain, but it drains her so percy is really protective!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ percy jackson x daughter of psyche! reader hcs

content: percy jackson x daughter of psyche! reader hcs warning: none this one is too soft for any warnings author's note: okay okay i did my research on psyche for this one and just...awwwwwww wtf its so sweet her and eros like wtfffffff why can't i have a tragic greek love yall doom me with the narrative i beg

you have bewitched him, body and soul

drawn in instantly

im sorry but you would be too if you heard of a girl that could basically heal all of your trauma

very popular among the demigods for that reason

borderline harassed and forced into help ease the emotional pain that a lot of them suffer from

and you wanted to help, truly you did, but it was hard when it took so much out of you

but you just pushed through, wanting the others to feel peace even if it cost you your own

you did it out of your cabin, as you knew chiron would try and stop you, scheduling times for them to sneak in and out

you were on your eight demigod of the day, your vision fuzzy but your hands out stretched as you needed a point of contact to heal them

but then instead of grasping your hands, the fuzzy blob in front of you gripped your shoulders

you could just make out dark hair and what looked to be green eyes before your body gave out on you

after what felt like hours, your eyes fluttered open, and you could feel your ladybug pillowpet under your head, which you turned towards the door of your cabin

there percy stood, shooing away another camper

"but-"

"look at her. she'll kill herself to keep you all happy. let her rest. i won't ask again," percy hissed before closing the door, shaking his head as he approaching you, kneeling beside your bed

"welcome back to the land of the living."

"who was that? are they alright?! i'm sure i could-"

"and i'm sure you could, too. but i won't let ya. you're off for the rest of the week," percy argued and raised a brow at you as you opened your mouth to argue.

you swallowed your argument, nodding your head and offering him a soft smile, which he returned

that was the first time you met and from that point on, it was hard to find one without the other

it got worse once you two started dating

percy might as well have glued his hand into your back pocket of your jeans, as it seemed to never leave

and no matter how much you offer, percy refuses to let you use your powers on him

he thinks it would be an abuse of his position as boyfriend

what he doesn't know, is while he sleeps with his head in your lap and you comb your fingers through his dark hair, you do little spurts of it

nothing major or serious enough for him to notice, but just to give him a little peace of mind here and there

but, for her birthday, once everyone else had left, you offered your services up to sally

percy had told you enough about gabe to leave you, every the pacificist, raging and seething with anger

sally was hesitant but agreed, you two sitting criss cross apple sauce in her bedroom on some rug paul had insisted on

you took her hands into yours and talked through the process, which you typically didn't do with the demigods

you walked her through her own emotions, why she was feeling that, why she dealt with that the way she did, how she might do better next time

you were both crying not even half way through

she pulled you into the tightest hug after, thanking you so many times you lost count

then she sent you home with a boat load of cookies, which she made percy swear on his father not to steal

you were sweet enough to give him a third of your ration, but that's it!! (he ended up with a half, bc you love that boy far too much)

he finds it very amusing to be like 'she's an empath ' at inappropriate times

"she just killed two monsters"

"she's an empath"

"percy! you're girlfriend is crying bc mr. d won't give her another marshmallow!"

"what can i say, she's an empath."

"hey, is that your girlfriend?? she's currently hugging a tree and refuses to let go because she thinks it was a lover in a past life."

"she's an empath- wait, what?"

idk but you are very jane austen coded, you just are

soft and ancient loves are sooooo you!!

those kind of loves where their souls are clearly tied in a neat little bow

percy buys you all those fancy cover versions of the books, making sure they match your aesthetic and all the things

just a boy being protective over his soft babygirl idk what to tell you

[storiesforthemoonchild]

Personal Jacket | Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

a/n: I don't love this, but the request was cute and hoping it sparks something else.. this request, enjoy!

You’re leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping at your morning smoothie when you hear the soft patter of feet on the hardwood floors of your apartment. Your disheveled girlfriend comes into view a moment later, making you smile behind your glass at her sleepy features. She wordlessly removes the glass from your hand and sits it aside before lifting both of your arms up and around her neck. She sighs softly, burying her head against your chest as her hands sneak under your top. 

“Did you sleep well baby girl?” You ask, leaving a kiss on the top of her head. You feel her shaking her head no and chuckle, her well rested appearance telling a very different story. “No?”

“Cold when you leave me,” she whines, pulling away with a pout in place. Her lips pucker up and invite you in which you gladly accept. “Couch cuddles?”

You deny, trying to unwrap from her strong hold. “I’m going for a run. Want to come?”

Aitana seems to finally take in your appearance, noticing the athletic wear contrasting with her soft pjs and tilting her head in confusion. “Amor no,” she whines, her bottom lip once again jutting out. “Cuddles,” she says definitively. 

You chuckle, rubbing your hands along the cranky midfielders arms to calm her. “Okay, cuddle for a bit,” you of course agree, hearing the teasing of your teammates that aren’t even there. They always say ‘Aitana’s word is law’, due to the fact you easily gave in to whatever she desired. 

To you it was always worth it when you see the shining smile that covers her face. Aitana’s arms move from around your waist to your neck and after a year of dating you knew exactly what to do, lifting the smaller girl in your arms and heading for the couch. You drop her gently and flop down beside her. 

“Happy?” You question, tracing the soft features of her face with your finger. You tuck the loose strands of hair behind her ear as she nods in satisfaction, enjoying the affection her eyes flutter close. “T’estimo,” you whisper, knowing she loves whenever you speak to her in your less than stellar Catalan. 

The grin that breaks across her face is endearing, her eyes snapping open the moment it falls from your mouth. “Your Catalan is so good,” she says teasingly, but she is more than pleased with the fact her lessons weren’t fruitless. “I love more,” she throws her leg over top of you, wiggling to get comfort in your embrace. 

“I’m never going on my run am I?” Both of you sharing a laugh at how routine of a habit this is. ‘Just a bit’ always turns into the whole morning of cuddles and sweet kisses with your run long forgotten and before you know it, it’s time to head to the stadium for the game. “So clingy.” 

“But you love me,” she states matter of factly into your neck, placing delicate kisses that make you squirm. 

“I do indeed mi amor,” you declare the Spanish rolling off your tongue a bit easier than the Catalan. 

—

When you and Aitana started dating it was a shock to most of the team. The two of you didn’t necessarily talk or spend any time together outside of the pitch to their knowledge. Even after everyone knew of your relationship the two of you made sure to still go about your days separately if you so choosed. 

However, after the cuddly morning you shared you aren’t surprised when the Ballon d’Or winner is striding towards where you are sitting with her pre-match meal tray in tow. The open seat next to you is now filled as she scoots the chair impossibly closer to your side and the table falls silent. You look up at Alexia and Mapi who are watching on in amusement, waiting for the opportunity to tease you. 

“Oh, you get pasta too? It looks good,” Aitana studies your untouched plate, licking her lips clearly unaware of the eyes casted on her. “Switch?”

You blush already hearing the snicker of Mapi in front of you, “no,” you say shortly, trying to save yourself the embarrassment. 

Aitana looks shocked momentarily prior to her looking up and seeing the smirking faces in front of her and realizing why you denied. One thing you admired about Aitana was she was always her, and always unmoved about those around her. She didn’t mind the teasing from your teammates, a gift you wish you could have. She was in love and ‘nothing about love is embarrassing’ she always said. She rolls her eyes at Mapi wiggling her eyebrows before leaning in to whisper in your ear. The previous blush only intensifies at her words as you slide the tray in her direction. 

“Gracias mi amor,” she tells you sweetly, leaving a kiss on your burning cheek and lifting your hand to rest in her lap. She always wanted a part of you touching her if you were near.

“You truly are pathetic and in love,” Mapi shakes her head at you in fake disappointment. Alexia at her side mimicking the action, but with the smile of a proud parent. You were the youngest of the three of you and if you let them tell it they had taught you everything you know despite only knowing them a few years. 

“It is a bit cute, no?” Alexia asks Mapi, the two quickly falling into a conversation about your relationship in front of you, but clearly you weren’t a part of.

“Por favor shhhh. I love her. She love me, sí?” Aitana’s agitated voice rings out, continuing to shovel food in her mouth as you nod in agreement. 

Mapi fake gagging and while they settled now you knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it later. 

—

You can’t say that you necessarily like Aitana on the pitch, especially if you had to go against her internationally. The sweet affectionate side of her completely vanishes when that whistle blows. However, it was nice to have her on your side at club level, if you took a tough tackle she was the first at your side. A helping hand to get you to your feet, but that was it. Well that and a promise to kiss it better later but that was the most you got from her on the pitch as far as affection. 

 When the full time whistle came her mask would drop and she was back to the ball of cuddly sunshine you fell in love with. Everyone saw the outward affections of Aitana, but it was you who secretly craved more. You loved having her right by your side. 

You’re standing talking to Kiera and Lucy after the match, not a clue what they’re on about as your eyes search for your girlfriend in the crowd of people. “Relax, I’m sure you’ll get to play jacket soon enough,” Kiera chuckles. 

“What?” You laugh at the weird statement, turning back towards them. 

Lucy is hunched over in laughter as you stare confused at the both of them. Before Kiera gets to respond you feel your arms being lifted as Aitana settles herself against your front and wraps your arms securely around her. “So cold,” she shivers in your hold. 

You squeeze her tighter, shaking you both in an attempt to warm her up. You unzip your puffer, giving her more warmth as she sinks further in your hold. “Better?” You ask, placing a kiss to her temple as she nods in confirmation. 

“Yeah like I said… you’ll get to play personal jacket soon enough,” Kiera deadpans. Your cheeks turn red at the realization of what she meant. Aitana’s little habit is clearly being noticed by the team, but once again she is unfazed. Instead she turns in your arms, wrapping hers around your waist before lifting on her toes for a kiss. You happily oblige, happy to have her in your arms once again. 

“Kiera is jealous she doesn’t have personal jacket,” Aitana teases as she pulls away and turns to stick out her tongue at her friend. 

“What you promised earlier… will we do it tonight?” Your mind wanders back to the whispered promise that made you give up your food earlier. 

“Sí amor,” Aitana smirks, pulling you into her lips again. You were willing to be her personal jacket forever. The affectionate midfielder having a piece of you that you don’t think would ever be your own again. 

[flowerandblood]

Experience (Oneshot)

[ canon • Aemond x little sister • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, smut, sexual tension, love obsession, mention of engagement ]

[ description: After Aemond discovers that his beloved younger sister has always reciprocated his feelings, he shows her how she can bring him relief, just as he did for her. It turns out that the new experience is groundbreaking for both of them, and he, as the older brother, is going to show her exactly how she can give him pleasure. ]

Part 2 of the Apperances, can be read as standalone story.

My other works: Masterlist

_____

After what happened that evening in his chamber, he forced his mother to make the announcement of their betrothal. Despite her resistance, he made it clear to her that he would only marry her and no one else and would personally cut the throat of any man who would try to touch her.

After receiving their father's blessing, the matter was a foregone conclusion and a date was set for their wedding, which, to his despair, was quite far away.

Six months seemed a frightening infinity to him, even more so after she had given him the pleasure he had dreamed of for years.

"Don't be afraid, hāedar (little sister)." He murmured, directing her small hand under the loosened material of his breeches, his manhood swollen and throbbing – having brought her to fulfilment with just the touch of his fingers he felt the tension in his loins from which he felt his length would explode.

She squealed softly as the soft movement of his hand tightened her fingers on his thick, long cock – he groaned low feeling how delicate and smooth her skin was compared to his.

The thought that she was touching him in such an intimate place, reserved only for his wife, made it quiver in her grasp.

"− easy −" He gasped, seeing the blush of embarrassment on her beautiful cheeks, her plump, puffy lips parted slightly in a drawn-out breath of surprise.

The thought that this was the first time she had touched a man in this place, the first time she had felt his length and how much he craved her drove him mad.

"− is it always − so big? −" She mumbled quietly, clearly terrified at the realisation that according to her understanding this was what she was supposed to fit deep inside her during their wedding night.

He licked his lips dry with desire, breathing loudly, directing the strokes of her hand so that her fingers clenched around his manhood moving up to the very pink, fat head and all the way down to its base.

"− no −" He whispered, involuntarily rocking his hips to the rhythm of her hand – she gasped, surprised, watching what she was doing with wide eyes, feeling how hard it throbbed in her grasp, its pink tip wet with his own moisture. "− it gets like this when I think of you, dōna rūklon (sweet flower) −"

He saw that she felt what he had said deep inside her, her thighs lying on his lap clenched involuntarily, a sweet, surprised moan escaped her lips – he saw her nipples, hard with desire, peeking through the thin material of her gown.

"− why? −" She asked in a whisper; he sighed loudly and squeezed his eyes shut as she suddenly sped up her pace, feeling the wonderful heat and tension filling his lower abdomen, a low groan of pleasure escaped his throat.

Her innocent curiosity aroused him even more.

"− because I desire you − and when a man desires a woman, it gets swollen and hard − until he is relieved −" He muttered, looking up at her with his lips parted in a loud breath – he groaned in surprise when he felt her grip become firmer, as if she already knew what he needed, his heart pounded like crazy. He tilted his head back, clamping his hand on her wrist, forcing her to slow down.

"− no − I don't want to come yet −" He exhaled and sighed low, surprised by his reactions, by the way his cock twitched and throbbed every time she squeezed its root.

He thought with awe that what was happening to his body gave her the distinct feeling that he surely loved her dearly and passionately.

"− does it feel good, lēkia (big brother)? −" She asked in a voice trembling with pleasure; he stifled the sounds that pressed against his throat, panting loudly, with desperate rocking of his hips responding to the caresses of her wonderfully soft hand.

"− very − very, very good − fuck, little one −" He mumbled out, with the movement of his hand making her speed up, feeling that he was already so wonderfully close to relief.

She did it with such eagerness that he involuntarily groaned loudly, panting hard, feeling his heart pounding like mad as the fingers of her free hand tightened in his hair, as her soft, wet, swollen lips clung to his in a sticky, hot kiss, her tongue forced its way deep into his throat, her hand giving him a few more sure, quick strokes.

"− fuck, fuck, fuckkk −" He gasped out, feeling his manhood begin to pulsate aggressively in her hand – a wave of stupefying pleasure surged through his body as, with a low moan of relief, his seed spilled onto the material of her gown. She bounced up on his lap, frightened, looking down quickly and he snuggled his nose into her neck, embarrassed, breathing hard.

"− forgive me − oh gods, my sweetest −" He muttered, breathing loudly, not believing how wonderful the experience was, how long he had dreamed of her touching him like this, his hips moving in the rhythm of her fingers for a moment longer.

"− are you disgusted with me? −" He asked in a trembling voice, letting go of her hand, their fingers all sticky with his pearly spend. He heard her swallow loudly, her free hand gently stroking his long, white hair.

"− n-no − just − our mother never told me about such…sensations −" She mumbled with sweet embarrassment, from which his lips, swollen with desire, involuntarily placed a lingering, hot, moist kiss on her neck.

"− hmm −" He murmured, running the tip of his nose over her warm, smooth skin. "− we should wash our hands, sweet sister −"

She let him clean her fingers in a bowl filled with clove and lavender water – he could feel her watching him as he reverently and adoringly washed her hands with his own, so fine, silky to the touch.

"− do you love me, brother? −" She asked quietly, looking up at him from above her long, dark lashes – he murmured under his breath, looking at her with serenity.

"− I love Helaena and our mother − you I adore −" He explained in a soft, low voice, wanting her to understand that although he also pursued the other women in his family with affection, what he felt towards her was special.

He saw how a blush and a sweet smile lit up her face at his words – she lowered her gaze humbly and he thought that he felt like devouring her, ripping everything off of her, caressing her all night.

Soon, he thought.

Soon.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96

[baldval]

do you also do polyamorous things? could we have romantic headcanons with the vee's and a very childish reader? (sorry, I'm very silly!!!)

would prefer a gn!reader, but fem or male is always fine too!

if you don't do poly things, then just velvette is fine!

-🍋 anon

DATING THE VEES HEADCANONS!₊˚⊹♡

characters: velvette, valentino, vox, x gn!reader (poly)

warnings: cursing, nfsw headcanons later on.

a/n: i respect all ships, but personally i am a firm believer of poly!vees and, obviously, love this request!!!!

SFW:

ʚɞ without fail, vox would be the one to wake up eary and make breakfast for all of you.

ʚɞ "you're all so fucking lazy, perhaps you could try to do something?"

ʚɞ secretly, he loves to cook.

ʚɞ he'll never admit to it but you all know it.

ʚɞ as vox's alarm wakes you all up, velvette gives both valentino and you sweet good morning kisses.

ʚɞ meanwhile, valentino grumbles something into the soft flesh of your thigh.

ʚɞ very much not a morning person.

ʚɞ vox is used to hammering away for hours alone in his office, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t get a bit lonely.

ʚɞ would be delighted to find you and velvette lingering to spend time with him and watching him work.

ʚɞ whereas valentino is pretty much the exact opposite.

ʚɞ 'clingy' is an understatement.

ʚɞ constantly all over the both of you.

ʚɞ genuinely doesn't matter who is around, he will hold your waist and plant a kiss on your lips natural as anything.

ʚɞ a hand on your hip as he hugs velvette by her shoulder.

ʚɞ "come on vox, you've been in there for hours." you whine

ʚɞ "i'll be done in a minute darling."

ʚɞ when she's between work, velvette loves to experiment with novel ideas for her clothing line.

ʚɞ often shows new things to you first to get your opinion.

ʚɞ one day you asked her to teach you how to sew, to which she answered with such excitement it was almost to the point of giddy.

ʚɞ val loves it when he's working and you just enter his office and sit on his legs.

ʚɞ his arms surrounding your figure.

ʚɞ vox loves when you play helpless damsel with little things, even when he knows you're exaggerating.

ʚɞ enjoys seeing you struggle

ʚɞ and when you give him puppy eyes.

ʚɞ watches you with a loving smirk.

ʚɞ "let me take care of it, darling"

ʚɞ you all love riling vox up when you know he has somewhere to be.

ʚɞ "what if we made out right now? would you still want to leave?" you tease.

ʚɞ he’s embarrassingly affected by your kisses and caresses.

ʚɞ and how you all always manage to make him late.

NSFW:

ʚɞ velvette tends to be a very rough and demanding top.

ʚɞ topping velvette is rare, but absolutely a glorious experience to be a part of.

ʚɞ whereas vox is much more giving.

ʚɞ he still needs praise tho.

ʚɞ "you look so good on top of me, it's amazing".

ʚɞ "hmm... please- keep doing that."

ʚɞ valentino is the textbook definition of a power bottom.

ʚɞ he's always the one to get impatient and jealous during sex.

ʚɞ especially when velvette or vox are taking up too much of you for too long.

ʚɞ "hurry up," he'd mumble while sucking at the skin of your neck.

ʚɞ but velvette ignores him, her mouth steadfastly doing the lord's work between your legs.

ʚɞ she's fond of the brat but not about to rush your pleasure over it.

ʚɞ besides, she know you all can think of a few better ways to shut valentino up.

[aliceramblez]

Dating The BB League Elite Four + Kieran 💕

Tags: GN! Reader, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Teal Mask & Indigo Disk Spoilers!

A/N: After finally getting dragged into the Pokémon rabbit hole, I honestly couldn't resist in doing one of these for my babies! Scarlet/Violet is my very first Pokémon experience, so hopefully I did these characters justice ^^

Feel free to follow my main @taruchinator & leave a request for future HCs!

Crispin 🔥

He's such a dork and incredibly quirky but don't you worry, he'll definitely be the one to ask you out first, no matter how many attempts it takes. Not like you'd say no to begin with.

As a partner, he's the kind of guy who would always try to cheer you up and have you in a happy mood, because when you're happy, he's happy! Anything from compliments, to jokes, to just giving you lots of affection.

Which brings us to the fact that he's huge on PDA. And the funny thing is he doesn't even realize he's doing it—he'll lean on you when you're showing him something in your Rotom Phone, rubbing circles on your palm when you're talking about your day, placing his chin on your shoulder while talking to the other club members—this man is all over you.

During your stay at Blueberry Academy, don't you dare spend your precious money on the cafeteria, he's got you covered. He'll ask you and learn about your tastes, creating new recipes and concoctions just for you, hoping to surprise you with something better and nutritious every day!

If you had a long day of training and doing BBQs, Crispin always comes by and makes sure you had a meal. And you better not be lying to him.

“Man, you've been out all day! Did you even have lunch?”

“.... I had a granola bar.”

“HOW ARE YOU STILL STANDING?”

It's safe to say that Koraidon/Miraidon adores him, and even makes you question whether it's you or your Pokémon who's dating him.

After you started going out, Crispin now makes sure to carry sandwiches with him at all times. Mostly for your oversized lizard boy, but also for you in case you need a quick snack to recharge. The legendary Pokémon is quick to thank him with licks and constant slobbering which always leaves the red-head a mess, but he tries to not let it bother him for your sake.

Whenever you guys aren't training, you'll be in your dorm rooms cooking and having laughs with your Pokémon over how clumsy they can be in the kitchen.

Overall, a sweet and supportive goofball who'll make sure you're always smiling and never have an empty stomach!

Amarys 👓

Obviously Amarys isn't the best at conveying her emotions. It doesn't mean she doesn't care, she just has a hard time figuring them out sometimes! Which is why it's incredibly strange to her when she starts having these weird sensations whenever she's around you.

She feels happier, her stomach gets all jumbled when you compliment her, and her minds always finds a way to drift back to you no matter what she's doing.

She ends up asking Carmine about it, who immediately gets all giddy and explains to her that she might have a crush. Amarys is surprised, but not against the idea. It makes sense in retrospect—cue bestie Carmine giving her pointers and ideas to try and confess to you.

Unfortunately it's all a bit too convoluted or cheesy for the Steel-Type user's liking, so she ends up doing it her own way.

One day after club activities are over, she asks if you can stay a bit longer to talk. “After much deliberation, it would seem that I have caught romantic feelings for you. I propose a casual outing so we can discuss these in further detail. Do you agree?”

It doesn't take long for you two to start going out.

Amarys shows affection through small gestures that may not seem like a lot to others, but you know they're huge steps for her. Sharing her food when you're hungry, giving you advice on how to raise your Pokémon properly, helping you study subjects you aren't that good at—the list goes on.

PDA isn't her strong suit at all. Physical affection in general isn't something she's used to, and she's forever grateful that you don't push her to do things out of her comfort zone. She tries though, and will do things like brush her hand against yours or even give you a hug whenever she's feeling bold.

To an outsider you're both an unconventional couple, but manage to make it work with trust and constant communication. Give her some time and she'll warm up to you.

Lacey 🧚‍♀️

A sweet cutie who doesn't really change her attitude towards you even after you start dating, since she's always loved having you around. The two of you also confess at the same time, which leaves you as a pair of giggling messes at the irony of it.

Is your number one cheerleader when it comes to school academics. You may not be an official Blueberry student, but that doesn't mean you should be slacking in your classes! If you don't understand the material, don't you worry, she's already prepared a slideshow presentation going over it point by point. Will also reward you with kisses if you pay attention!

Lacey isn't huge on PDA either since she thinks it's unnecessary, but when it's just the two of you, she will never let go. You have successfully replaced Granbull as her favorite pillow of choice, since whenever you two have time off and she's tired, you'll probably take a snooze under a tree in the Coastal Biome.

When you get to meet her father, she's actually a bit nervous since she's never thought of dating before finishing school, but you try and be brave and reassure her that you'll try your best to give a good impression. He thinks you're alright, but gives you the good old father talk to make sure you won't hurt his little girl.

Will find ways to dot your Legendary lizard ride with gifts and affection since she thinks he's just too darn stinking cute, but don't worry, she still thinks you're the cutest!

Since Lacey's constantly worrying about things getting done around the League Club, it's your duty as her partner to get her to relax from time to time. You'll do your best by offering to share responsibilities and reminding her that breaks are very much needed.

“Sweetie it's nighttime, you can finish in the morning. I'm tired and need cuddleeeess.”

“Just one more page and I'll be done—”

“Please Ms. Lacey! I need your cuteness to have a good night's sleep!”

“F-Fine, I'm coming! Flattering me to get what you want is just not right, ya know?”

Truly an iconic duo.

Drayton 🐉

Let's get one thing straight: this man doesn't confess—heck, he doesn't even ask you out! One day he just has his arms around you and plants a kiss on your cheek claiming that he'll follow your every command, all with a cheeky grin on his face. You're more than welcome to punch him for it and he'll still come crawling back.

Like most things in his life, Drayton takes your relationship slow and steady, not really wanting to push your boundaries (unless he wants to tease you) and having no rush to progress things. He's just a chill guy who wants to claim you before anyone else does.

Don't be mistaken though, this doesn't mean he doesn't care. You'd be surprised how much he looks out for you, almost borderline overprotective in some cases. After everything that happened with Terapagos in Area Zero, he's constantly making sure you have strong Pokémon, supplies, and good company to survive the crazy adventures you get mixed up in.

You guys' ideal date is spending time together in the dorms after school hours, kicking back and relaxing with a movie or just talking about stuff that happened during the day. He's surprisingly a very good listener.

It's from these laid back conversations that he gets ideas for random gifts to get you. Did you need a new pair of gloves cause the old ones ripped? Some are waiting in the club room. You're running low on potions? A box full of them appears on your doorstep. Want to visit your friends in Paldea but can't find the time? Turns out Drayton took over your assignments for the day so you're free to go!

You're also the only person he'll allow himself to be tutored by. Will literally not listen to anyone unless it's you. Which is why you try to make sure the material is easy for him to digest + it's not boring typical schoolwork, but something he'll actually enjoy.

“Okay! Today we're going over math! Let's have a battle in the Polar Biome so you can see how probability applies in critical hits and such.”

“Aww, my honey is catering to my needs? Aren't you the sweetest thing?”

“No kisses until we're done, Drayton.”

“Alright, aye aye boss!”

He's an idiot, but he's your idiot.

Kieran 🍎

This boy has had a crush on you ever since you first met in Kitakami, but never had the courage to say anything since he was so shy. Now however, he doesn't say anything because he feels like he doesn't have the right to.

After everything he's put you through—from accusing you of stealing Ogerpon, to fighting you in an all out battle, to straight up putting you and everyone else in danger just because he wanted a chance at getting a Legendary Pokémon—Kieran doesn't think he deserves to be your friend, let alone your partner.

Carmine is there as his wingwoman though, cheering him on and telling him how much you appreciate him and clearly return his feelings.

And so, mustering as much courage as he can, he asks if you'll trade Pokémon with him. When you agree, he brings out an Applin, which immediately leaves you blushing but also spreads a huge smile on your face. The two of you officially start dating.

Kieran does is absolute best to try and be the boyfriend you deserve, even though it's his first relationship and he has no idea what he's doing half the time. The members of the League Club are surprised at first, but ultimately support you guys all the way!

You spend time together sharing battle strategies and having your Pokémon playing to try and get along. Turns out Ogerpon and Hydrapple become fast friends by the end of a particular play date, much to your delight.

He's not good at PDA, like, at all. He's still that shy and timid kid from Kitakami underneath it all, so he struggles with initiating affection even when it's just the two of you. You're the one who has to start the hugs and kisses, leaving him like a puddle of goo under your grasp.

Nightmares still plague him occasionally, mostly revolving the journey to Area Zero and how it all could've turned out for the worst if by some chance Terapagos decided to attack someone else. Maybe even you. If you're with him when they happen, you'll hold him tight and whisper sweet nothings into his ear until he calms down, or if he calls you to make sure you're okay, you'll stay on the phone with him until he falls asleep again.

“I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...”

“It's okay Kieran. We're both okay, and that's all that matters.”

You two are the power couple that Blueberry Academy never expected, but deep down, you're just a pair of dorks who fawn over each other on a daily basis.

[imasoftieforbarb]

If your taking requests could you do floyd x fem! Reader

From the time brozone was still a band. Y/n is Floyd's best friend, but they got married very young to eachother (y/n and Floyd also having kids if that's okay and if your uncomfortable with the married thing and the kid thing you can leave it out)

But Floyd just showing Branch old photo books and telling him and Poppy stories of how attracted Branch was to reader and treating her like a big sister. Even better if he still does

-🌹🌹

Floyd x Wife reader: FAMILY LIFE

The wedding was so sweet

He 100% cried

You both decided to get married after the band broke up- you’d been dating in secret so his brothers wouldn’t tear him- also because it might kill their image

You knew that you loved each other so you decided it didn’t matter if you got married young

I���d like to think he turned up at your pod on the night of the Brozone split up

A ring shakily held in his hand

Asks you to marry him and leave with him

You obviously agree- you end up getting married in Rock City (you also had your honeymoon there)

So all the photo books are full of your journeys

The first one Floyd showed Branch was full of your secret date photos

Your first date, you drinking a milkshake with two straws- the writing on the bottom of that photo says

“I thought we were gonna share- but she wanted to prove herself worthy”

That was obviously written by Floyd

One of branch’s favorites is a photo in a selfie style that showed Floyd smiling at you who was resting on his shoulder and branch asleep in your arms

The note on the bottom of that one simply says “our first ‘I love you’s’ in his handwriting with a heart drawn by you

There’s alot of photos of you that Floyd took of you and Branch

“She was there for my first steps?”

“Yeah, John Dory was so jealous when you walked to her not him”

The second one documents your engagement journey

Campfire photos, photos of you pranking each-other

Floyd points out his favorite which is you asleep on a camping bed in the middle of a lake

The writing was in your handwriting this time and simply said “watch your back Angel”

The third is full of wedding photos

These were professional photos- it was a really small wedding but you and Floyd agreed you wanted to do it sooner rather than later

He’s got another photo book that’s just full of wallet sized photos (he couldn’t decide which one was his favorite)

[weasleykisses]

You’re So Pretty I (Remus Lupin x Reader)

(GIF not mine)

A/N: Remus and you very clearly like each other, however, hes convinced you have a crush on a mutual best friend. Friend-to-lovers, fem!oblivious!reader, jealous!Remus, mutual pining

Loosely influenced by the song “ur so pretty” by Wasia Project.

word count: 3.9k

________

“Going on another study date, Y/N?” Marlene asked as she watched her dorm mate gather up her books and a couple scrolls into her bag. Y/N rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Don’t lie to yourself. You aren’t just going to study.”

“As a matter of fact, I am going to just study.”

The blonde haired girl wasn’t the only one that pestered Y/N about her crush. Despite never admitting to it directly, her friends ganged up on her and joked about it fairly often. “You won’t learn anything from drooling over Lupin the whole time,” Marlene laughed.

“I do not drool over Remus. He’s just a good study partner.”

“Whatever you say.”

She finished packing her bag and making sure her uniform was straight. Her hands slid down her skirt to smooth it out and through her hair as she looked into the standing mirror. Wanting to look presentable did not mean she was trying to impress him. Definitely not. She just didn’t want to look unkempt, is all.

When she was confident she didn’t look like she just rolled out of bed, she turned to leave her dorm and head to the library. She waved to Marlene who made a heart shape with her hands jokingly. After so long, she’d gotten used to the teasing though, just dismissing her with a ‘tsk’.

She left the common room without another confrontation by one of her friends, walking leisurely to the library where her transfiguration textbook waited. She was never the best in transfiguration, or charms, or defense against the dark arts; truthfully she wasn’t very good at anything most people would would consider important. Her saving grace was care for magical creatures.

Sometimes she felt herself grow so embarrassed by her lack of skill, but Remus never made fun of her for it. He helped her fix the issue, and she was grateful to him for that. He was probably the only reason she passed her classes the past few years.

Kids bustled around the halls and the stairways as she walked through the castle. The sound of her feet clicking on the marble floors kept her occupied as she walked through the familiar walkways. She listened in on some conversations as she passed by, eavesdropping when she shouldn’t.

The only other thing on her mind was her study partner, who she found herself growing awfully attached to over their years at Hogwarts. Now that they were in their seventh year, she occasionally felt herself completely consumed by her crush on him, which she quickly tried to correct by thinking of something else.

It wasn’t that she wanted to smother down her crush on the boy, she just didn’t want it to take over her life. It would never happen, and the inevitable rejection would destroy her. It was normal for her to not get her hopes up, terrified of being disappointed in the end.

Sometimes, she just wanted to forget about him and fancy someone actually obtainable. Someone like the hoard of boys that confessed to her over the years, bringing her flowers and candy and sweet love notes. Only she didn’t like them and couldn’t bring herself to pretend. Her friends asked why she never accepted any of the propositions, to which she would just say she was waiting for someone specific.

Eventually some of her friends figured out who she liked. At first it was Lily, and then the rest of the girls followed suit after seeing her interact with the tall boy enough times. She suspected that Sirius knew as well, knowing how perceptive he was. He would send her some suggestive looks now and again when Remus wasn’t looking, which she just ignored for the most part.

Still, no matter how hard she fought it, she fell deeper and deeper into her infatuation with Remus Lupin. She thought he was the most handsome, smart, kind boy she’d ever met. He was just perfect in her eyes. He could do no wrong.

And so, she found herself drowning in her feelings for the boy. Honestly, it was difficult to keep afloat. To be around him and pretend she just wanted to be a friend. To pretend she didn’t want to cuddle him when they sat on the couch together. To pretend she didn’t want to kiss him every time he smiled her way.

Before entering the library, she took a deep breath and smoothed down her hair once more. Confident in her ability to socialize with him without completely falling apart, she pushed open the heavy wood door and into the large room filled with whispering voices and floating textbooks.

Remus sat in their normal spot towards the corner where not a lot of people crowded around. It was quieter, and he preferred that. For Y/N, she was just happy to get more one on one time with him. The other marauders wouldn’t step foot in the library so she didn’t worry about them. Lily maintained her distance when she was studying. She wanted to give the pair some “private time”, as she had said once when teasing her friend.

“Hey, Rem,” she quietly greeted him, giving him a small wave. He peered up from the novel he was reading, giving her a warm smile back. It was adorable. Everything he did was adorable, really.

She took a seat beside him, setting her bag to the side. She pulled out her transfiguration textbook. He was particularly good in this subject, so this would be easier than something like Charms.

“How are you?” He asked.

“I’m fine. How was your day?”

“It was okay. The guys are planning a new prank for tomorrow so they’ve been pestering me about that,” he told her, and she nodded. He loved their pranks secretly, not wanting to come across as immature. Not to mention, James could be a little overwhelming. Especially when he spent the nights with Sirius planning, keeping the other two boys awake.

She grinned brightly. “Oh really? What are they gonna do?” She loved pranks, as long as they weren’t directed towards her. They were an escape from the strictness of the school, not to mention a relief when certain Slytherin were involved.

“Stink bombs in the Slytherin locker room. Nothing fancy.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“I suppose.”

Her eyes trailed down the book that was sitting in his lap now. To get a better look, she leaned closer to him and tried to read the upside text. “What are you reading today?” It was normal that they exchanged books after reading it, that way they could discuss the novels together once they were both done.

“Shakespeare.”

Her eyes widened and she urged him on, “What play?”

“Midsummer’s Night Dream.”

“That’s my favorite! I'm so glad you’re reading it,” she told him happily, clapping her hands together from excitement. As a muggle born witch, she loved when her friends experienced a bit of her world. Shakespeare was just a taste. He’d read a couple other muggle books before, but mainly it was novels by famous wizards and witches.

He smiled, tucking the book into his own bag. “I know. That’s why I picked it.”

“You remembered! I’m excited to talk to you about it when you’re done.” He had to look away from her face. She was so beautiful when she got excited, it made him want to swoop in and give her a thousand little kisses. Of course, he wasn’t insane, so he wasn’t going to do that. He was always looking at her, catching glimpses of her captivating smile and her sparkling eyes. When she looked away, he peered over at her and just watched, regardless of where they were. In class, while studying, in the common rooms. He couldn’t help but stare.

It wasn’t a coincidence he picked her favorite play. He wanted to see her get all giddy because of their two person book club. Anything to see her happy. It seemed he had successfully achieved that, too.

“So what did you need help with?”

“Well, I’m not quite sure. I’m doing well in all my classes right now. Probably because of you, but still,” she told him. Honestly, she never really wanted to study, it was just her way of hanging out with Remus for a while. “Do you want to do something else other than sit in here?” Y/N asked, a bit nervous he might say no.

He leaned on his elbow, cheek pressed to his palm. “Depends. What do you have in mind?” He asked, even though he knew he’d say yes to basically anything she could ask. She could ask him to join her in the broom closet for a snog and he would agree.

She thought for a moment, tapping a finger on her lips as she pondered what they could do. There wasn’t anything she desperately needed done, and it wasn’t close to dinner yet.

“Do you want to come with me to feed the nifflers and diricawls?” It was the only class she excelled in. Hagrid allowed her to come and visit the animals as often as she wished, knowing her to be quite talented at the subject. It was rare to be so compatible with the beasts, but she’d done it.

He wasn’t the biggest fan of the class, and had not taken it for a couple years. Still, he was willing to do just about anything for her. “Let’s go then.” He nodded, gathering up his belongings and tucking them down into his bag. She did the same with her textbook which she never actually opened anyway.

He took her bag from her without her asking. He always carried her books if they were walking somewhere together. She figured it was just him being polite. James would do the same, bragging about his impressive strength. She was grateful though, and walked beside him with her hands in her cardigan pockets.

As they turned the corner, entering the main corridor, she caught the eye of a familiar face, one that Remus thought was busy with Quidditch practice for the time being. “Sirius!” she called, waving over at him with a newfound grin on her face, teeth showing and eyes bright. He looked up from Mary and Alice, who also waved in the pair’s direction.

“Fancy seeing you here, Angel,” he hummed, but opened his arms as he usually did for a hug. She threw herself into his arms and he squeezed her tight, maybe even too tight in Remus’ opinion. She pulled back, peering up at him before nodding to the other two Gryffindor girls.

“Hi, Mary, Alice,” she hummed sweetly. They happily greeted their friend with warm smiles.

Remus almost felt himself move past his surge of jealousy, if he hadn’t seen Sirius rest the palm of his hand on her lower back when he stepped to the side to face the rest of the group. He never understood why the two of them were so close, and why Sirius practically hung off her shoulder when the two were together. The two were just best friends, from all he could tell, but it sure felt like more. Sirius wasn’t known for settling for one girl, he preferred to leave his options open. Surely, he didn’t have a crush on her.

Remus could only hope.

“Moony, where are you two off to?” Mary asked. While Remus looked at the brunette, answering her question, he missed the look that Alice sent Y/N. She raised her brows, her eyes flicking between the pair. Y/N felt her cheeks heat up at the notion that her and Remus were hanging out as anything other than friends. The girls loved to taunt her, probably because they consistently got a rise out of her.

“The creature pens outside,” he replied, gloomier than he wanted to sound. “I thought you guys had practice today?”

Sirius shrugged, “It was postponed for an hour. Something about the weather. I thought you two normally studied on Thursday afternoons.”

“I’ve been doing well enough in my classes that I figured I deserved a well earned break,” she told the three of her quidditch-playing friends.

“Well, I guess we should leave you to it, right, ladies?” the raven-haired boy asked. Bidding the two study partners a goodbye before trailing off with Alice and Mary in tow. Y/N waved while Remus just watched with a defeated look on his face. He always felt defeated when seeing Sirius and Y/N together.

For the rest of the trek out to the animal pens, they walked beside each other silently, just navigating the halls in thought. She could only think about how close he stood beside her, and how attractive it was that he carried her bag for her. A dazed smile was left on her lips and she stared at her feet to avoid him seeing how happy he made her. She was such a lovestruck fool. It was obvious.

It was cold outside but not quite snowy yet. She cuddled into her thick cardigan, wondering if he was cold in just his sweater and uniform shirt. The leaves had fallen from all the trees, crinkling under their footsteps. The sky was white, indicating a storm was brewing, potentially snow considering it was December. A few other students hung out in the courtyard, playing games with each other or sitting by the gardens talking. Not a single person was hanging around the animal pens.

She stopped when they neared the small building beside the care for magical creatures classroom. The diricawls and nifflers were inside this time of year so she pushed open the door to the shelter. Inside, they were met with a dozen or so diricawls walking around on some freshly laid hay.

She turned to Remus and grinned, pointing to a diricawl with three black spots on its head. “This one is my favorite. His name is Cookie. Isn’t he just the cutest?” She asked.

He shut the door behind them so none of the creatures escaped. “You named him Cookie?”

“Yeah, because he’s so sweet.”

She walked over to the food barrel and scooped out two handfuls of food. She tossed onto the ground beside the animals, but kept a few pieces in her hand. With her free hand she urged Remus to come closer.

He did as she asked. “Here, you can feed Cookie this time,” she told him, handing him the pieces of kibble. It was exciting to share her passions with him. He was happy she just included him in the first place. He wanted her to invite him into all aspects of her life. What classes she liked, her favorite books, favorite songs, her favorite holiday, and favorite food. It was like a collection he wanted so badly to complete. To complete her and all her quirks.

He took the kibble from her hand. “How do I feed him?” He asked.

“Didn’t you pay any attention in class?” She joked, but patted his shoulder nonetheless. “By hand, if you want. He doesn’t bite,” she laughed. He knelt down closer to the creature and extended his hand, looking to her for guidance. She gave him a very enthusiastic thumbs up. Soon enough, the little bird was taking food from his palm and munching on his snack.

When he was finished and stood back up, she couldn’t help herself but hug him from the side, pressing her face to his arm. “Y/N?” His heart was skipping a beat. He patted her on the head gently, feeling a bit too awkward to hug her back. Even if he loved her being pressed so close to him, he couldn’t function when the real thing happened.

She answered with so much glee in her voice, “I’m just so happy you came with me. No one ever comes with me to feed these little guys. Always too busy with quidditch or hanging out in the common rooms.”

“It’s no big deal. If it makes you happy, it makes me happy too.”

Her stomach was doing somersaults and her heart raced at his kind words. She took a step back and straightened herself out again. “Thanks, Rem. You’re such a sweetheart.”

If his face wasn’t red already, it certainly was now. She looked like an angel standing there, the diricawls gathered at her legs like her own little army of birds. He loved the way her Gryffindor cardigan swallowed her up. He loved the way some stray hairs fell into her face as she glanced down at the ground. He thought it was adorable how she fiddled with her fingers when she was nervous.

It was admirable how she treated the animals, the things she loved. Even if she wasn’t the smartest book-wise, she was friendly and kind, to animals and humans alike.

Most importantly, there wasn’t any judgment from her when she found he was a werewolf. She caught the boys carrying him up the common room stairs one day in the early hours of the morning, and from then on she doted on him. She gathered ingredients from her furry or scaly companions, persistent in making healing potions for him, different creams and salves for his wounds. She worked long hours in the Potions room with Slughorn’s permission, desperate to make something that would ease his suffering.

She’d come up to their dorm after the full moon and take care of him each time, cleaning his wounds and doing the best she could with her limited knowledge of healing spells. Over time, she got better, nearly perfecting her spell casting, all for him.

That was when he started to fall for her. No one had ever cared for him like she did. As Sirius liked to call her, Y/N truly was an angel, he was sure of it. Sirius might have meant it as a joke, but Remus came to find the nickname truer than any other. True like he was Moony and their friend was Padfoot.

She pointed over to a few cages to their right, where the nifflers lived. The cage was decorated with shiny things, silver necklaces and some gold coins, probably the result of a thieving niffler.

“Do you want to feed the nifflers now?”

“Anything you want, love.”

———

While James was chasing after Lily Evans, and Sirius was busy romancing Marlene McKinnon, Y/N sat back on the couch beside Remus Lupin. Peter sat on the floor by her feet, resting his head against the sofa cushions. She’d grabbed three cups and a pot of hot tea for her and her couple of friends as they watched the flickering of the fire before them.

While the more outgoing of the friend group were always off doing something, this left just the quieter three hanging around amongst themselves. It was peaceful. Remus read his book silently while Y/N and Peter talked about the newest gossip from that day. Peter was great to talk to. He always listened intently, and could discuss basically anything she could think of. She supposed he was just happy that the cooler marauders let him hang around.

She took a sip of her drink and sighed, the warmth of a nice cup of tea soothing her otherwise freezing cold frame. She grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped herself up. It was nearing Christmas, which meant many things.

It meant that she would have to sit outside in the freezing cold during every quidditch match. It meant going to Hogsmeade every weekend and filling up on butterbeer and goodies from Honeydukes. It meant spending more time huddled up on the couch with her friends sitting around the fire, laughing all night long.

She drifted off into her own thoughts for a moment, completely missing the question that Peter had just asked. She felt a tap on her knee and blinked away that dazed look in her eye.

“What was that, Peter?”

“I asked, do you have any plans for Hogsmeade this weekend?” he said once again. She tapped the side of her teacup in thought. She originally planned on staying inside over the weekend to finish up some homework due the next week, but she couldn’t resist the urge to go out and visit the little town, get some candy, and drink in the Three Broomsticks. She couldn’t miss out on a fun outing with friends.

Y/N shook her head ‘no’.

“Wanna come with?”

“Of course.”

She stirred her cup of tea, her eyes scanning the room. “Any specific plans you all have this weekend? Zonko’s, Honeydukes, Spintwich’s?” she asked. Usually they followed some sort of routine. Visit the Three Broomsticks for drinks, head to Honeydukes to stock up on sweets for the rest of the week, and either stop at Zonko’s for the newest gadget or Spintwich’s so James could see if there were any upgrades for his broom.

Her personal favorite was Brood and Peck. Sometimes they had special creatures that you could only find in the forbidden forest. She was still waiting for a unicorn, but in the meantime there were always mooncalves, nifflers, and diricawls to play with. She also liked spending her time in the bookstore too.

Not that she wanted books, she just liked going there with Remus so she could watch him out of the corner of her eye. He furrowed his brows as he scanned the books for one that he was interested in. She would pretend to do the same thing, but really she just went for him. To watch him get excited by a new book that was just released, or half priced older novels he’d been meaning to buy, books they would read together. Seeing him happy made her feel soft inside, and that’s all that mattered to her.

“Well, I heard that Lily and the rest of the girls are going to Honeydukes around noon and I plan to be there,” James said confidently. He was obsessed with that girl, but Y/N couldn’t judge. She was just as obsessed with Remus as James was with Lily. She was infatuated, and had been for years.

“Speaking of which, why aren’t you going with the rest of the girls, Y/N?” Peter asked the girl sitting beside him.

Originally, she declined going to Hogsmeade that weekend altogether. She was far too preoccupied with her schoolwork to even think about taking the day off to fool around, but she couldn’t say no to spending the day with Remus. She had to say yes to the boys, on the off chance she might get some quality time with the boy she fancied.

She shrugged, “They offered, but had to say no. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to finish my potions essay in time. Gladly, I got it done this morning, so I should be fine to go with you guys.” She wasn’t exactly lying, but she certainly wasn’t telling the entire truth. She wasn’t doing well in her Herbology class either…

Remus found himself tense up at the mention of Hogsmeade. He always found himself nervous when she was around, and somehow, they always ended up singled out by the group when they went places. It was always Sirius and James goofing off with Peter following closely after, leaving Remus standing in the dust with Y/N at his side. He was never prepared and felt like he made a fool of himself every time just trying to strike up conversation. He could be so terribly awkward.

He just hoped that on the day of the actual visit to Hogsmeade, he would be normal. That all his friends would stick together instead of separating and leaving him to be his embarrassing self in front of the girl he so desperately fancied.

Part Two out.

[lunatic-pudge]

Scout, Pyro, Demo, Medic, Sniper, and Spy Relationship Headcanons

Can you tell which ones are my absolute favorite:')

Scout

• Unsurprisingly, it takes him a long time to get over his infatuation of Ms. Pauling (I'm 110% convinced she's a lesbian), so you must be basically a deity to be catching his attention (though he'd the type to flirt with EVERYONE)

• Golden retriever energy, also youngest child energy. Constantly wants to do everything for you but also needs constant attention. He's also used to be getting picked on by the other mercs and his older brothers so he'll be going to you for validation. But he also doesn't want to appear weak so it'll take some time to break through his (fragile) shell.

• Love language: physical touch and acts of services. Will be constantly trying to act like a macho man for you but will also beg to hold your hand. Cuddles are constant. He may not be good at being a handyman, but my gods he's gonna try his darndest. Plz tell him that he did a good job, he's trying his best.

• He's the best person to go to if you wanna go on randon and unexpected adventures. One minute you're both in Teufort, the next your across country at the beach up east coast. Poor thing gets yelled at a lot for just uping and leaving without notice.

• Local snack dealer. Ma is always making sure that he's got sweets on hand. His room has care packages from her with some of the most wholesome letters from her and the box if FILLED to the brim with sweets, treats, and soda

Pyro

• My little baby boo, a wholesome partner who would kill for you. Can get jealous very easily so you might have to hold them back from committing manslaughter.

• Love language: quality time and gift giving. Time with Pyro is time well spent. Constantly just wants to be in the same room with you. They don't do well when you're not around. Also loves to give gifts. Most of their gifts consit of stuffed animals and handmade drawings. Your room will be filled with gifts from this goofball.

• In my opinion, they're a lot more there than people realize. Some days are better than others though. They were literally CEO of an engeneering company! And I believe they made all their weapons to but I could be wrong on that. Homie is definitely reliable when they're having a good day, but on the bad days, just sit and spend time with them. You don't gotta say anything, just knowing your right there beside them is enough conformation to know you'll always be there no matter what.

• You two are little troublemakers. You'll constantly be up to no good with them. It seems like harmless fun, but you've both almost burnt down the base five times just this month!

Demoman

• Probably one of the best lovers you could have out of all the mercs (aside from Engie, they're competing for the number one spot). I'm deducting points cause of the nonstop alcohol consumpution. :(

• But he is a happy goofy dunk so thank gods for that. Always happy to be here. Very attentive, caring, cuddly, overall a good person to date or even just be friends with.

• Cause the constant alcohol ruined a good portion of his memory (and Medic as well), he writes down every little detail of you that he can in a little journal he secretly keeps on his person. Important dates, likes, dislikes, ect. The man has it on file in case of emergencies.

• Love language: gift giving and act of services. He works three jobs and makes over 5 mil a year, he's LOADED. He's gonna buy you the world if you ask. Definitely good at money managing so he never worried at how much gifts cost. He's also gonna try his darndest to help you out with any problems, though it can be a bit hard when you're constantly drunk. Hims trying his best, okay?

• Wants his mom to approve of you but knows how critical she is of him. Poor baby has some self-esteem issuses cause of her so please give him lots of love and support. It's hard when your mom never has anything nice to say about you and compares you to everyone else. It's a neverending struggle. :(

Medic

• You're definitley into weird and questionable people if you like this man, and that means we're best friends now. :D

• He will ask you to help him out with surgeries and organizing his lab. You're hims little nurse. He'd probably (absolutley) be getting you a nurse outfit with his symbol on it.

• He's very much the possessive type. What's his is HIS, no if, ands, buts, or questions about it. Would put a tracker in you so he knows where you are at all times, but someone would have to talk him out of doing it... for now...

• Constantly talks about you to his birds, if any on them ever have babies, he's naming one after you. Would get you a stuffed dove plushie to cuddle with at night when he can't be there with you

• Love language: physical touch and quality time, you're ALWAYS welcomed in his lab, in fact, he expects you to be there with him. Is the type to ask you to grab something and will graze his hands against yours when grabbing it from you. (then give a shit eating smirk afterwards) He'd also be the type to stand VERY close to you, and stand behind you in an intimidating way to keep others from talking to you.

Sniper

• This man is my all time baby boy so I have LOTS to say about him and how much I love him :')

• Is someone who takes a while to get close to, especially in a romantic way. He's just a shy little boy who's used to being alone. But isn't introverted, just has introverted tendencies (you literally see him hanging out with some of the other mercs in Expiration Date)

• Love language: words of affirmations and physical touch, he sucks at verbally saying how he feels about you but will leave cute little love notes around for you to find. He's also VERY touched-starved so he will just flat out lay on top of you if you let him. Loves hearing you say how much you love him, plz just hold his hands and say how much he means to you, he might just cry from it.

• Is also someone who goes on random adventures, but they're usually just out and away from everyone. But I could see him taking you to a zoo or aquarium to look at the animals. But you're not allowed to go to a Humane Society cause you'll be walking out with all the animals they have and raising them like they're your babies,

Spy

• Another gremlin who takes a long time to warm up to you. He's a grumpy old man who's never really been with someone in such a serious light (aside from Scout's Ma)

• Love language: gift giving and words of affirmation, another merc who would buy you the world if you asked. Will only buy you the best of the best and will throw hands with someone if it's not up to his standards. He could go on about his love for you. His words sound like poetry. You'd wake up with a bouquet of roses and one of the most beautiful love letters anyone has ever read.

• Is 50/50 on PDA, he'll wrap an arm around your waist, call you beautiful, and give you a peck on the cheek in front of others but that's about it. Any extreme PDA is to be in private or you're getting a scolding.

• Would definitely help you learn French. He's way more patient with you than anyone else. You've seen him yell and insult every merc a couple times (Scout getting the brunt of it), but he refuses to ever say anything negative about you

• Definitely the bragging type. He'll put you on a pedestal and go on about how gorgeous you are. How you were crafted by gods, and so on. He thinks he's better than everyone else so if you're with him, than you're right up there with him.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

CM New Beginnings Fics

Hey everyone! Thank you so much to everyone who participated. I am so happy to share everyone’s hard work. If you have a oneshot or masterlist you’d like me to add, please send me a message - new additions are always welcome.

First, check out @emberfrostlovesloki 's 🌈 Masterlist of Entries ☀️: This lovely prolific writer has entered several fics, which include Hotch, Emily, and Spencer fics! Check out their page for even more!

🌼 SFW S.R./Reader Entries 🌼

Play Dates by me: [GN] Reader finds out Spencer hasn’t had many dates and offers several Play Dates.

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder by @foxy-eva: [GN] Spencer was the right person at the wrong time, no doubt about it. When Reader is finally back in town, they're ready for a fresh start. 

You're Gonna Go Far, Love by @writer-in-theory: [GN] After relapsing, Spencer takes the first flight with no plan other than to get a fresh start.

Love Like the Sea by @rynwritesreid: [GN] After Spencer lost Maeve, he swore of love, until Reader came around.

Cowboy Like Me by @foxy-eva: [Fem] Spencer decides to fulfill a childhood dream to become a cowboy.

In Sickness and In Health by @pathologicalreid: [Fem] Minutes before Reader's wedding is supposed to start, Spencer gets cold feet.

Maybe We Found Love Right Where We Are by @andiebeaword: [Fem] Spencer just got engaged to Maeve on Valentine’s Day. Finding out his best friend’s heart will be broken changes things. 

More ratings and pairings below!

🌼 Other Pairings/Gen SFW Fics 🌼

Silent Demon by @angellsell: [Derek/Fem!Reader] Reader celebrates a month milestone of sobriety, but she isn't very proud of it.

Hearts on Our Sleeves by @angellsell: [Hotch/Fem!Reader] Aaron and Reader decide to give a try at a new relationship after a long dry spell.

Good Fortune by @reasonablerodents: [Hotchreid] Spencer and Aaron are the only ones without a partner for a New Year's Kiss.

And When Dawn Came by @snarkylinda: [Gen] Spencer calls Emily the night that Cat has the baby he decided to adopt.

The Date by @codename-mom: [Gen] Jessica didn't expect what her former brother-in-law was going to ask her.

Last Recruit by @/codename-mom: [Gen] There's a new agent at the BAU eager to start her new life. Her name is Penelope Garcia.

First Steps by @/codename-mom: [Gen] Rossi found a young agent named Aaron Hotchner who could be a good new recruit for the BAU.

First Day at School by @/codename-mom: [Gen] Jack is now old enough to go at school and his father has trouble to deal with this very special day.

🌼 NSFW Entries (S.R./Fem!R) 🌼

Second Time's a Charm by @foxy-eva: Back in college Spencer Reid and Fem!Reader left many things unsaid. Years later they give it another try.

It’s Too Cliché by me: Reader and Spencer are the worst at friends with benefits. After an exchange of gifts & nasty words, the two reunite on a very eventful NYE.

For the Love of Lace by @reidmotif: Reader decides she doesn't want to pine for her best friend anymore but needs his help deciding what lingerie to wear for her date.

Sweet Agony by @incognit0slut: After tragedy, Reader believed she was unworthy of love. Spencer proves her wrong.

Co-Creator Bonus List

🌼 SFW S.R./Fem!R Fics 🌼

The Only Hoax I Believe In by Foxy: Spencer struggles with his addiction after prison until Reader is determined to help him, no matter the cost.

The Perfect Plan by me: Reader has a question for Spencer, but things don’t go according to plan.

Impromptu by me: Reader learns some shocking news when a case lands her in the hospital.

Defining Family by me: Spencer finds out he’s a dad… to a twelve year old girl. Your twelve year old girl, who just broke into the FBI.

Clean Shaven by me: Reader helps Spencer shave after prison.

Drunk Dial by me: It’s been years since Reader talked to Spencer, but after a bunch of drinks it seems like a really good idea.

Repentance by me: Spencer is confronted with his second chance at life, finding it full of regrets. Reader tries to talk him through it.

Happy Hydrangea by me: TransMan!Reader. JJ is corrected in finding out Spencer has had a boyfriend for a while now.

🌼 NSFW S.R./Fem!R Fics 🌼

Lily of the Valley (Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3) by me: Unsub!Reid. Spencer was found guilty but mentally ill after the torture and murder of several men. He finds solace in his psychiatrist at the institution.

Duet by Foxy: Letting the love of his life get away was Spencer’s biggest regret, so he decides to go after her.

Honeymoon by Foxy: Spencer and his wife are excited about their future (and their honeymoon).

To Have and To Hold by me: Reader is trying to save her marriage, but Spencer seems resigned to its failure.

Stork Song by me: Spencer and Reader try to find intimacy again following a terrible loss.

Domesticity by me: Reader gets worked up watching Spencer with kids. He notices.

Different Kind of Daddy by me: After a rough day, Reader has good news for her husband.

🌼 Other SFW Pairings 🌼

Till Death Do Us Part by Foxy: [Emily/GN!Reader] Reader didn't expect grief to linger after Emily came back from the dead.

Motherhood by Foxy: [Tara/Emily] Emily and Tara finally become mothers.

Happy Reading!

P.S. If I missed your fic or you have a new one to add, feel free to send me a message. I would love to add it!

[suguru-getos]

Fluffcember with Satoru Gojo

Prompt: Reassurances

Summary: You are in the early phases of your relationship with Satoru where you haven't even kissed each other yet. Taking things comfortingly and achingly slow. Unfortunately for you, you’re reminded of his ‘Uncommitted Fuckboy’ & he reassures you through it. Warnings: None really, just extreme fluff and comfort and Satoru being a care-giver and a Daddy pro max!

Your brother came back from a gathering of sorts, it was all related to Jujutsu High and being a third-year there, he was privy to a lot of information you weren’t. Though now that you’re dating his Sensei without actually telling him, your questions & curiosities have increased a tenfold. “So, how was your day?”

Your brother came in, opened the fridge like a racoon in a dumpster & took out a Coke zero, clearly tired & a tad annoyed. “S’ good.” He chuckles, rolling his eyes. “Something very funny happened today.”

You irked a brow, mostly all the funny things are related to your now boyfriend. "What happened?" You asked, curiosity bubbling behind your eyes.

"There's this sorcerer- her name's Mei Mei, she flirts with Sensei so hard it's hilarious!" He cackled, manspreading on the dining table seat after microwaving the sandwich and sighed. "She was all like- 'of course Satoru kun, you can help me can't you?' because she was assigned a mission which was seemingly hard." You felt a pang of anxiety touch your chest at that, nodding with a faked smile. Can't show your brother you're affected by this after all.

"H-heh, funny… what did he say?" You inquired, and your brother shrugged. "Said he would help." You bite your lip, of course- Satoru is not someone to refuse his aid to anyone. Even you knew that about him… but clearly, did he not pick up the signals? "Shyeah- of course." You waved your hand dismissively. "I think they have done it definitely." Your brother snickers. "I mean- Sensei is so popular I'm sure all the female sorcerers would've wanted a piece of him." He groans, "So annoying to me though."

You smiled, not able to maintain this conversation without it affecting your core. Satoru was gorgeous, he could pick a finger at anything and would get that for himself. There was absolutely no doubt about it. Which is why… it's concerning as to why he is dating someone like you. Someone so normal, someone miles away from the Jujutsu world. Someone who had no place in his world. He was utterly sweet to you as well. So far you haven't had any arguments with him either. A defeated sigh escaped your parted lips as the thoughts multiplied and cluttered your mind. You went to your room to sulk. As if being a Corporate baddie wasn't enough. Now you also need to take account of what's happening in Jujutsu world with your boyfriend. Sickening…

As if to balm your insecurity with reassurance, Satoru's name flashed on your phone screen in a phone call. "Hello.." You answered the phone hesitantly.

"Oh hello Little One! How are ya? Just checkin' up on you. Hope you don't mind that mm?" "No, not at all, I've just come home from work. How are you?" You tried to sound as normal as you can, the lower octave of your voice not gone unnoticed despite you stiffening yourself up to sound as normal as you can. "Something the matter Princess?" The nickname slipped out of his lips so easily, right now you wonder if it's so easy because its meaningless. "Nah, nothing's the matter. My brother just came home you know? So I was just talking to him about er- school and stuff." You answered half-truth. Satoru's head tilted to the side, tongue clicking. "Something that pissed you off?" He asked softly, and you nodded your head yes, but your voice lied. "Nah, s' al good. Don't worry. Maybe I'm just really tired you know?" "Mhm, gotcha~ maybe, you are tired… you know what can help? A sugar rush." Satoru snickered over the phone and you sighed. There is no way you can escape this man's gaze if you were to meet him right now. "Nah, really tired. Headachey too…" You excuse yourself, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut at the silence on the other side. "Alright, take rest." Satoru sounded genial and soft, and with that you heard the beep of the call disconnecting.

You were starting to get angry at yourself, why does it even matter. You two haven't even been together for a month yet. This is truly pathetic…

You shoved all the thoughts off your head, journalling them off. Whatever… who cares. Yeah, whatever…

The next few days you tried your best to ignore Satoru, picking up his calls and answering in one-word sentences, declining his proposal to meet for dates or to just catch-up. Until you finally saw him one day at your home. You gasped, blinking when you opened the door and found him manspreading on the couch as if he owned the place.

"Sah- Satoru what`" "He's just here to be a nuisance." Your brother's voice chimed in from his room. "He needs something from me." You glanced at Satoru, who quickly removed his blindfold and made sure his eyes stared right into you. "Well, not my fault you can't search for the scroll I handed to you brats." He shrugged, of course an excuse… he wanted to come and see you. "Hello, Y/N san!" He chirped excitedly, and you waved him a Hello right back; gulping. "How have you been?" Satoru asked again, you nodded with a half-smile. "I'm good, Gojo San, are you good, too?" "No, I'm not… and you know why." His tone was soft, tender, as if he didn't want the pressure of his words to get to you.

"I- I see…" You looked down at your feet, looking back up at him. "You said you'll work late today." He almost whispered, shit- you completely forgot about that excuse you made for him,

"Oh yeah- ahem, well yeah… I will freshen up and login again." You grinned, trying to save your sorry ass.

"No" Satoru simply denied your statement.

"You are going to freshen up, and then utter why you're behaving this way." He didn't sound easy this time, you were hearing him speak to you sternly and seriously for the first time ever. You can't blame him though, he's worried… and it only warms your heart more that he is worried.

Before you could open your mouth, your brother came back to the drawing room. Stomping and giving him the damned scroll. Ugh- timing!

"Jaa- see you two!" He grinned, head-patting your brother and looking into your eyes.

Before you could say anything further, you found yourself back in your room. Answering his call…

"Are you getting out of the house or should I carry you out myself in front of your brother?" Satoru almost sung, and you knew there was a tad bit of a truth laced to that threat.

"I'm getting out." You rolled your eyes.

"Aw, that's a good girl."

The moment you were outside, Satoru teleported beside you, hand intertwining with yours and helping you walk in fucking air. You blinked, not registering how this is happening. It was like invisible stairs that take you to the breath-taking sky. Stars have just started to pop up as the night blanket wraps the city of Tokyo.

"What's bothering my baddie?" Satoru hums, and before you could answer, he interrupted again. "Don't say nothing else I'll start being really paranoid and restless, that's no good is it?" He coos, leaning in to make you feel more comfortable.

You finally decided to speak up, pouting and telling him everything about Mei Mei and what your brother told you. Then telling him how that made you feel truly.

He chuckles, rolling his eyes and cupping your face preciously. You blinked, taken aback by the sudden stance of affection but not leaning away. You wanted this… you wanted him to touch you, to soothe your worries away. "I can't believe my silly little girl would be so stressed about something like this It's nothing. Even if Mei Mei flirted, I would never return her affections or anyone else's." He smiled, "You know why? Cause I really want no one else but you Little One. I would never lose this." His eyes observed you once more, hands squeezing your face tenderly. "For something meaningless… I would never do anything to risk this, never. I promise you."

His words echoed in your ears and you couldn't help but nod a little with a smile. "Sorry- I just, you know it's not been a lot of time to us and-"

"So what!" Satoru giggles, "Time is a construct, and definitely not a measuring parameter when you're dating someone like me. Or if I am dating someone as amazing and kind and yet, fierce and firm as you." He winked.

"I promise you sweet Princess, I would never, ever… let anyone near me." His sincerity touches your heart, and you leaned in, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

"Aw! I get a hug! Good sign!" Satoru beams, kissing the crown of your head and rubbing your arms comfortingly.

"Let me show you now the skyline looks, neh?"