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cherryjuiceblues · 8 months

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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.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shots #mutually beneficial #writing #dom!harry #domrry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurbs #harry styles imagines

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stvrchaser · 5 months

Text

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬

( pairing ) : clarisse la rue x fem!reader

( words ) : 2000

( note ) : noticed that clarisse has her nails painted in the show and… well this came out of that. reader is heavily aphrodite coded but i don’t think it’s explicitly mentioned anywhere what cabin she’s actually from? only that she’s not from apollo’s and she’s on clarisse’s side for capture the flag

also don’t we just love that every fic i’ve ever published is literally 80% pining? honestly can’t tell you the last time one of my fics didn’t have a scene that goes on for like three paragraphs about how much admiration reader has for their love interest

oh and happy new year!!

Summer days can last for a lifetime and a fulfilling one at that. There’s so much to be done when the world wakes, engulfed in light and warmth, nurturing possibility. There’s so much to look forward to. But today, that anticipation has chosen to work against you.

The sun is setting now, approaching dinnertime, and Clarisse is nowhere to be found. For all of her spontaneity and occasional recklessness, it’s unlike her to abandon routines. That is, routines she shares with you. And walking to dinner together happens to be one of your longest-running practices.

You tried to ask around, careful not to sound too concerned so as not to spark rumors. See, Clarisse La Rue has never been publicly caught in a state that warrants concern. Clarisse La Rue is untouched by the fears that plague the rest of them. But you know better.

It isn’t until you come across a few Ares kids, very obviously overworked and looking nearly faint with exhaustion, that you come to your senses. It isn’t infrequent that Cabin 5 becomes victim to one of Clarisse’s drills, training until fatigue overpowers their fear of her authority. As predicted, you find her in a clear patch of the forest overlooking the strawberry fields. Some days she likes to train here, away from watchful eyes.

The setting sun casts her in golden light, bronze armor glistening alongside golden skin. Clarisse liked to train in full gear — a fruitful habit to get herself accustomed to the added weight of leather and metal. It allows her to move with ease, swinging her spear with grace despite the strength of her whole body being evident in every step. With her head held high, spear raised, and the incredible speed at which she moves, she doesn’t look even the slightest bit mortal, but rather a god amongst men. A warrior and hunter. She is the perfect picture of divinity if you’ve ever seen it.

You let your feet drag against the dirt, a fallen branch snapping beneath your weight. It informs Clarisse of your presence from a safe distance, although the remnants of her focused state aren’t any less intimidating. Her eyes burn bright like the electricity that charges the tip of her spear.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Clarisse realizes her error with a glance at the horizon where the sun is setting and you smile warmly, dismissing any indication of displeasure. You watch her demeanor change, the rigidity in her posture fading with an apologetic tip of her head.

“I’ve been training. Those idiots would know that if they’d stuck around to join me.” Something tells you that that isn’t entirely true. Anyone could assume that she’d been training, but the matter of where was an entirely different question. As far as you know, this particular spot is something only the two of you are familiar with — a small refuge away from everyone else.

“Well, we don’t all have your… passion for these things.”

“You think I’m ridiculous,” she says with a sigh.

“Babe, you’re training for capture the flag. Not war.” Clarisse only shakes her head, knowing there’s no point in arguing. She thinks this is something the two of you might never see eye-to-eye on. While you like your fair bit of competition, Clarisse takes every victory with great significance. As she does with every loss.

“Here, I’ll help you,” you say, approaching to tuck a stray curl behind her ears. Your touch lingers at her cheeks, flushed from physical exertion and maybe something more by the way her gaze settles on your lips. Every intake of breath is louder now that you stand toe to toe and the adrenaline has started to wear off. She’s too worked up to have done this all for a game of capture the flag. “I hope you’re not doing all this to get back at Percy.” Her eyes still linger on your mouth and you think she might’ve not heard you until her brows furrow in confusion.

“Since when are you on a first-name basis?”

“Oh, come on,” you say with a disapproving shake of your head. “He’s just a kid.” You reach for the leather chord at the edge of her breastplate, undoing the knot with ease.

“He’s full of it.” She refuses to look at you now, her head turned upward as if she’d developed a sudden interest in trees. You can’t tell if she’s trying to maintain her composure to keep herself from saying something she’ll regret or if your gaze and proximity was distracting her from the discussion. Maybe a bit of both.

“He’s a baby. You could body-slam him into next Friday. It’s hardly a fair fight.” You untie the last knot keeping her breastplate in place, tugging upward to slip it over her head. Clarisse doesn’t even seem to realize that you’d freed her of her armor until the weight vanished from her body.

She looks at you then with an expression you can’t quite read. Something warm, like gratitude, but reluctant. When she speaks, it’s unexpectedly solemn.

“Do you really believe he killed The Minotaur? Him? Gods, everyone here trains themselves to death for that kind of stuff and he gets all the glory? He doesn’t even know how to shoot.” Now that you’ve been made aware of the gravity of the situation, it’s suddenly harder to find your words. This isn’t the petty rivalry you’d assumed it was, and you had to handle it as such.

“Well, I’m sure a few things have been exaggerated here and there, but that’s not his fault. People love to talk about him, but nobody’s really talking to him. I don’t think he’s had a say in anything that’s been said about him. You know how rumors spread around here.”

“But he’s—”

“Look,” you start, taking her hands into yours. “I’m not asking you to make him friendship bracelets. Just… try not to drown him in the lake, okay?”

You know the exact moment an idea hits her by the mischievous glimmer in her eye. It takes a lot of strength not to bury your face in your hands, afraid that you’ve now planted an idea that would get the poor boy killed. Or worse.

“Clarisse, please.” She surrenders, albeit reluctantly.

“Fine,” she says. Still, you’re not entirely convinced.

“Good. Now say it.”

“What?”

“Say you won’t drown him in the lake.” Clarisse laughs, but it dies down when she realizes you don’t plan to join her.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m really not.”

“I swear not to drown Percy Jackson in the lake,” she agrees through gritted teeth. You don’t say anything about the way her hands tighten around yours as if it physically pained her to say the words.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” you tell her, ignoring that it did, in fact, seem hard. “Now, what are we gonna do with those nails?” Clarisse stares blankly at your joined hands. Chipped black nail polish alongside your perfectly pristine, perfectly preserved set of nails.

“Why do we need to do anything about my nails?”

“Honey, I painted these like two days ago. What do you even do to get them chipped like this? I mean, are you fighting with the back of your hand? I don’t understand.”

“I have to train, you know?” she says, like it’s meant to explain anything. You know better than to ask her to elaborate.

“Shame. You have very pretty nail beds. You should spend less time fighting puppy dog-eyed middle schoolers so you can actually keep them pretty.”

“You think I have pretty nail beds?” You shrug.

“Among other things.”

“Well, tell me about these other things.”

“Hm, and people think I’m vain.”

“Come on. What other things?”

You take a moment to look at her — to really look at her. To dissect every inch of her face and the features that create the picture of beauty you know and love. There are far too many pretty things to point out, but you find yourself drawn to one in particular.

“You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Shut up. I’m not finished.”

“Of course. Don’t let me stop you.”

“And you have the most gorgeous smile.” Clarisse beams with pride. “Yeah, that one. And it doesn’t even matter if it looks like you’re just about ready to tear someone’s throat out with your teeth. I just like to see you happy. I like hearing you laugh even better.”

And laugh she does. Low but sweet, like honey. She looks like the teenage girl she is, deeply infatuated and with a capacity for love she has only ever shared with you.

You indulge in the temporary amusement it brings you to think of how horrified Clarisse might be if anyone else were around to hear her giggle. Clarisse La Rue, Daughter of Ares, infamous for waging war on whichever unfortunate soul so much as breathes in her direction — producing a laugh so gentle and beautiful it could give Orpheus and his songs a run for his money. And you might be the happiest girl alive to have been the cause of it.

“You’re sure you’re not Apollo’s kid?”

“Are you calling me a talented poet?”

“I’m calling you a sap,” Clarisse insists with a sour expression, but her voice is saturated with mirth, eyes too bright, and you know she isn’t entirely opposed to your antics.

“I think the term you’re looking for is romantic.”

“Yeah, right.” She rolls her eyes.

“I know I’m right, but thank you for the confirmation.”

“I know the nail polish fumes are getting to your head,” she mocks. You feign defeat, retreating with an exaggerated sigh.

“Maybe.” Two steps to your left and you’re concealed by a tree, its trunk twice as wide as either of you. You peak your head, locking eyes with Clarisse. “Or all that training is slowing you down. Honestly! If you’re gonna try to insult me, at least try to come up with something original.”

“Oh, you think I’m slow?” Clarisse asks, every word a thinly veiled threat — a challenge, and one you’re willing to accept.

“Unless you want to prove me wrong.” Clarisse lunges at you without warning, almost too fast, but you’re able to gather your senses. The tree had bought you just enough time to keep her whole body from slamming into yours, the force of it undoubtedly capable of launching you both to the ground.

You dash through the woods as fast as your legs can carry you, your only advantage being that Clarisse must have tired herself out from training. But you know she’s hot on your trail.

From here, you can see the bonfire, flames burning high. You turn, prepared to declare that your victory is just seconds away. You’re tackled to the floor before a word can leave your mouth.

“Oh, come on! That’s not fair, I was distracted!”

“Distracted by what?” Clarisse laughs hysterically although taking a much more graceful tumble to the floor than you had. She’s covered in fallen leaves and her jeans are brown at the knees where the denim fades.

“The pretty girl chasing me.” Clarisse is beside herself with joy, clutching at her stomach and close to tears, and it takes her a minute to calm herself. When the two of you have settled, she speaks again. Or tries to, that is.

“Oh, you are so—“ You place a kiss on her lips, short and sweet, but enough to leave her speechless. Clarisse turns a violent shade of red and you think she might need another minute to calm herself. You take that time to revel in your victory.

You stand, offering your hand to help her up.

“Come on, let’s get dinner and you can rest for the game tomorrow. If you’re gonna lead us to victory, you’re gonna need your strength, captain.” She smiles, intertwining her hand with yours.

“You’re gonna be there? Right beside me?”

“La Rue, you’re crazy if you think there’s even a chance I’d ever leave your side.”

•°. *࿐

reader: pls don’t drown percy in the lake

clarisse: ok fine

clarisse: *tries to drown percy*

reader: what did i say about drowning people??

clarisse: …

clarisse: you never said the toilets were off-limits

also i'm like brand new to the pjo fandom but i’ve been kindly informed of clarisse x silena (and their tragic ending but i turn a blind eye to that so i can preserve my sanity) but when i get there you WILL need to physically restrain me from writing fics about them

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #pjotv x reader #pjo tv adaptation #pjo tv series #clarisse la rue fluff #pining #but they’re already dating #they’re just horrendously down bad for each other and it’s kind of embarrassing #x reader #healthy bit of banter #and trying to convince clarisse to let percy live to see another day #breaking news: summer camp gets awkward when ur gf has beef w the middle schooler #you can’t say she didn’t try to help him ok

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theoddest1 · 4 months

Text

Let's Actually Talk About The Issues With Vivziepop

Okay, first off, hello you beautiful people! Sorry about this foreboding title, but I needed to catch y'all attention on this so I can break down the issues that I and many have with "Hazbin Hotel" and "Helluva Boss" creator, Vivienne Medrano. Now I am sure you all on here are already aware of at least a couple of the controversies that revolve around this particular creator and if you have seen my posts floating around already, some have been greeted with the problems surrounding her social media presence and just her overall as a person. I know seeing another callout on her seems very very tiring at this point, but I felt that a lot of the current callouts missed key details that were not at all addressed or properly delved on. I plan on shedding light on my issues with her and I hope you get where I am coming from when I say that she sucks.

BULLYING

Okay, I am starting off with Vivienne's blatant use of bully mentality, her agreeing or encouraging her fans to call people who see flaws in her works sub-humans or harass those who find issue or simply jest about her works trademark cussing and and overcrowded designs. She has had this issue for YEARS and refuses to grow up and act her age despite many telling her, even her own fans at times, that she shouldn't be acting so unprofessionally. Clearly, she doesn't care and thanks to her fanbase caring more about her feelings than her being better she feels as though she doesn't need to change or do better. This goes for her friend group as well, who defend her tremendously and act as though she is never in the wrong. Name one time a friend of hers called her out for acting childish, I'll wait.

Now, you're probably wondering, "Wtf could they have done to warrant such a response?"

Criticism...That's all they did. (White Text is random peeps they would speak with or maybe mutuals)

Keep in mind...they used to be a fan as well. They were also a minor at this point

But, Viv doesn't care, this person's critical yet harmless tweets about her shows is what lead to her painting them in a horrible light and making them out to be someone who has attacked her personally and as "nasty".

Rich coming from Viv since she is completely fine doing exactly that for "Ava's Demon". Not only does she criticize it, she takes a shot at the creator as well, but GOD FORBID others do the same towards her.

And according to someone who knew her well, it's all cause they felt creeped out by her.

Her hatred for criticism is so prominent that Ima makes that a section of its own. But let's get back on the topic of bullying.

Vivienne has a fanbase filled to the brim with pushy and overall annoying individuals who have harassed, threatened, disrespected, and wished harm on many people, all cause someone had a negative thing to say about Vivziepop's mid af show. One of the earlier known instances is the one revolving around a MEME of all things.

This was what started it all, and it led to both parties blocking each other and people being mad pushy and calling them an idiot and the like over their opinions. Now look, their take and you're opinion on said take is fine so long as you stay respectful and humane about it all, but don't dogpike someone all cause they think HH sucks. And while Viv can not control her fanbase, for they are not a hivemind (some of y'all act it tho, ima keep it real) she is seen here ENCOURAGING the behavior. Tell me how someone who doesn't even like your trash ass show has the sense to tell people not to harass others, someone with a smaller following, but not your grown damn near 30 year old ass?

Oh, but people wanna act like she can handle criticism, is a sweet person, and grew from her past experiences. Fam, she was 27 in this screenshot [December 16, 2019] and has shown no change from 2013 to fucking 2024. Over a decade of the same petty ass behavior, and keep in mind, according to several of her old friends and workers, she is worse behind close doors. WORSE. She's already acting like she got no damn sense out in the open, imagine behind closed doors.

Last but not least, a glimpse into her outright blatant slander towards Dollcreep, a once good friend of hers that she even visited and spoke with frequently!

She stated that they fetishized pedophilia yet according to the victim and friends of the victim who were once friends with Viv as well, Viv actually threatened to end their friendship if he hadn't drawn NSFW art of her character and his character having sex [Addi was 15 at the time this was drawn]

On top of that, she liked the post, something she didn't need to do. The art also depicted things she had regularly drawn on her own. Addi being tied up forcefully, being sexualized, being harmed to some degree through bondage, etc. The claim that she forced DC to draw this out is backed up by her own art depicting similar elements. Also, if my memory serves me well, Viv and Doll were 17-18 years old [Doll was 17 Viv 18] and have a 1-year age gap. The way Viv frames things here is as if DC was way older and imposed some sort of power over DC, which sources say otherwise. If anything, Viv had a LOT of control throughout all of this drama, which deserves its own section.

I'll be making posts that talk about the different issues regarding Viv, so one post isn't too long (this one is already lengthy enough) and that you can just pick at one post targeting certain issues around this creator.

#vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #vivienne medrano #vivziepop critique #anti spindlehorse #anti vivziepop #viv get a grip #vivziepop #hazbin #hazbin hotel #call out post #analysis #creator analysis #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin critical #hazbin critique

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girlgenius1111 · 5 months

Text

Always Will

After a bad game, Claudia takes her frustration out on you. You realize it runs deeper than just one game, and Claudia realizes that she can’t push you away very easily.

Shorter than normal, and probs all you’ll get for a couple more days, but I hope you guys like it anyway ☺️☺️

——-

Claudia sat in the front seat, glaring out the window. Her anger was palpable from where you sat in the drivers seat. You were tempted to break the silence, assure her that she didn't really have that bad of a game, but you knew better. Your drive continued in silence, and you wanted more than anything to reach over to her, and grab her hand, but knew she wouldn't accept the comfort. You'd allow her time to cool down, and then you'd talk to her about it.

What you hadn't considered, though, was that Pina wasn't just frustrated with herself- she was frustrated with you. This was made clear when she bolted out of the car as soon as you pulled in, and slammed the front door shut behind her before you could reach it. You walked in after her, slightly bewildered, as you couldn't think of what you'd done to make her upset.

"Babe? What's wrong?" you ask calmly, watching as the striker practically throws her bag down, stomping into the kitchen.

"What's wrong? Are you being serious?" She asked, whirling around to glare at you.

"Calm down, Clau, and tell me what's bothering you." You work hard to keep your voice even, despite feeling yourself getting annoyed with the other girls' behavior.

"You!" she shouts, and you step back, startled. "It isn't enough that I have the worst fucking game of my life, miss every shot I take, but you have to hover over me afterwards like I'm incapable of handling myself. It was humiliating, y/n, you treated me like a child."

You assume she's referring to when you tried to comfort her after the game. Her frustration had been evident, and you'd just wanted to make sure she was okay. She'd ignored you though, until you pulled her aside in the locker room, and she'd told you she was fine, which you didn't believe. To be honest, what you'd done didn't really warrant this reaction, and you knew that she was just taking her frustration out on you.

"That wasn't my intention. I just wanted to make sure you were okay," you tell her, inching closer when you notice the tears in her eyes.

"Well, I didn't need you to. I'm fine. Now leave me alone, yeah?" she snaps, before marching off into the bedroom, yet again slamming the door behind her.

You sigh, running a hand over your face. Claudia got like this after she didn't play well, but you'd never seen her this upset before. Deciding to give her some space, you head into the kitchen, grabbing a snack, before settling on the couch and flicking on the TV. You'd showered in the locker room, and Claudia had not, so you expect her to do so now.

You tried to lose yourself in the show on, but your thigh ached from where you'd been stepped on. It wasn't a big injury, just a couple cuts and what was sure to be a huge bruise. You're sure Claudia didn't even see it, having gone right into the locker room when she'd been pulled off in the 80th minute. It had happened a couple minutes later, and the physios had thrown a bandage on it before sending you back in. That same bandage was wrapped around your leg now, under your sweats, and you elected to ignore it for the time being.

Claudia hadn't come out of the bedroom, and it had been almost an hour, which you judged to be long enough for her to have cooled down. Standing, you walked to the door and knocked lightly, before pushing it open.

Claudia was sat on the floor, chin resting on her knees. She hadn't showered, and she looked to be completely lost in her thoughts.

"Clau?" you murmur, trying to get her attention. Her head turns towards you, and your lips tug into a frown when you see her flushed cheeks and watery eyes. Deciding to give her a few more minutes of quiet, you walk over to her wordlessly, and hold your hand out. After a second, she grabs it, and you lead her into the bathroom, turning the shower on. You're about to reach out, and pull her top off, but her hands stop you, and she does it herself. Claudia seems intent on showering by herself, but you don't feel particularly like leaving her alone in this state, so you perch on the bathroom counter and pull your phone out as she gets into the shower.

She finishes quickly, sniffling every so often, and you pretend to be engrossed in your phone, when really you're watching her every move. It's unlike your girlfriend to be so quiet, and paired with her earlier behavior, it worries you. She remains silent as she dries off and you follow her out of the bathroom.

This time, though, when she tries to head to the dresser and get clothes out herself, you stop her, and nudge her in the direction of the bed. She frowns but does as you direct, sitting on the edge of the bed in just her towel. You grab comfy clothes from your side of the dresser, walking back over to her. You take your time, gently pulling the shirt and hoodie over her head, as well as a pair of shorts onto her legs.

“Stay here, alright?” You tell the brunette, heading back into the bathroom with her damp towel and return with her hairbrush. She’s right where you left her, staring at the ground. You’re trying to get a good read on her emotions, but her face is blank. The only thing that tells you she’s upset is her shoulders, a slight slump in her usually perfect posture.

You brush through the knots in her hair, and you’re almost done when she reaches out to grab your wrist, bringing your motions to a halt.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” She asks quietly. You realize the emotion playing across her face is one of guilt.

“Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?” You reply, setting the hairbrush down and stepping in closer to rest your hands on her cheeks. She shakes you off though, standing and walking a short distance away from you.

You allow her the space, but turn towards her, waiting for her to explain.

“I was so awful to you, and you’re acting like I haven’t done anything,” she chokes out, and you soften.

“Claudia, don’t worry about it, I’m not mad,” you tell her, because you’re not. She can apologize later, but now, she’s so upset, you don’t care about anything other than making her smile.

“You should be. I was horrible to you in front of the team, and—“

“— and nothing. You were frustrated and embarrassed and I wasn’t helping. You can tell me sorry later, love, but please let me hug you.” You insist, walking towards her. She shakes her head at your words, but you pull her into your arms anyway.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles into your chest. “I don’t know why I acted like that.”

“It’s okay, baby.”

Claudia settles against you, relaxing slightly in your embrace.

“Why were you so upset today? I mean I don’t think you played that bad, Clau.” She scoffs in response. “Seriously, love, everyone has off days.”

“I feel like I only have off days. I haven’t scored in games, amor, I’m letting everyone down,” the striker responds, tears beginning to fall steadily down her cheeks. You realize that this goes deeper than just one bad game, and you curse yourself for not noticing earlier.

“Oh, baby. You’re not letting anyone down. It’s just a slump, you’ll come out of it.” You tell her, placing a kiss onto her head. She just shakes her head in response, though, and you sigh, before pulling her over to the bed. She sits on the edge, and you stand between your legs, guiding her chin up to look at you.

Her eyes are wide, eyelashes wet, as she gazes up at you. You can’t resist kissing the tip of her nose gently. It scrunches adorably and you smile, before you speak.

“You haven’t let anyone down, Claudia. Not me, and not anyone on the team. You have to be patient with yourself. You aren’t going to be perfect all the time, and no one expects you to.”

She looks only slightly reassured. “I just get so into my head. I don’t know what to do, I’m so stressed all the time,” she admits, and you frown down at her.

“Why haven’t you brought this up before?” You ask, because although you knew she was struggling slightly, you didn’t realize she was having an entire crisis of confidence. It explained her moodiness recently, and her outburst today.

“You’re stressed too, amor, I didn’t want to add to that,” Claudia dismisses.

“No, baby what stresses me out is not knowing why you’re so upset. Please, tell me when you’re feeling like this. You’re supposed to lean on me, Claudia, just like I lean on you.”

“Okay,” she mumbles. It isn’t much, but you can see a determination in her eyes that wasn’t there before, a spark. You know she’ll try to open up to you more, even if it’s a slow process.

She leans in, resting her head on your stomach, reaching her arms around you. In the process, her elbow clips your thigh, right over your wound. You let out a hiss, involuntarily jerking back.

“What? What is it?” Claudia asks, eyebrows knitting together as she scans your fully clothed body for injury.

“It’s nothing,” you say, leaning back into the hug. Claudia is insistent though, putting her hands on your legs to stop you. Again, you wince.

“You’re hurt.” She accuses. There’s an unspoken rule between the two of you that you always tell the other when one of you is hurt, which Claudia clearly feels you have broken.

“I’m fine,” you dismiss, but Claudia is already standing, pulling your joggers down your legs, and carefully pulling the bandage off, then dramatically gasping at the sight of your injury. It’s really not that bad, but Claudia is looking at you like you’ve been hiding a gunshot wound.

“Claudia,” you begin.

“No! Now I’m mad!” She says, lips twisting slightly into a smile, and you know she’s only joking. She turns, heading to the closet where you keep the first aid kit.

“I didn’t hide it!” You call after her and she sends you a glare over her shoulder.

“What would you call not telling me you were hurt?”

“Well, if you hadn’t stormed into the locker room before the game ended, or shouted at me when we got home…” you say casually, dodging the box of bandaids she throws at your head, laughing.

“I thought you weren’t mad,” she says, beginning to treat the cuts on your leg. You don’t tell her they’ve already been cleaned, enjoying the gentle way she’s pressing a light kiss to each cut before running the alcohol wipe over it.

“I love you,” you say suddenly. The way her attention has completely flipped, from her own horrible day, to your slight inconvenience, laser focus on making sure you’re okay, makes your heart flutter.

Your girlfriend looks up at you, a small grin on her face. “I love you too, amor.”

Claudia wraps a new bandage around your leg, before heading off to get some ice for it. When she returns, she finds you tucked under the covers already. She puts the ice pack on your leg, before settling into your side.

“Thanks for making me feel better, even when I wasn’t very nice.”

“Always, love. Always.”

She presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, before resting her face in the crook of your neck. You hold her tight, like you always will.

——-

Lord I hate writing on my phone. Also I think this ending sucks. But! Hope you enjoy anyway :)

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #claudia pina #claudia pina x reader

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wishluc · 11 months

Note

Oh god please elaborate on the Express Eatery thing! I love having Luocha as a customer

Going over this with Luocha, Yukong, Jing Yuan and Blade!

CW: yandere characters

So you work at the Express Eatery, and you start to notice that Luocha comes in every day with a new menu item he wants to try out. While waiting for his order he asks about your time on the Express and the meals you like and how you're finding the Luofu so far. He refuses to elaborate on the coffin he carries around or on anything else about his job apart from the "traveling merchant" line, but you let it slide because he's nice enough otherwise. He also tips very generously, and leaves glowing reviews, which may or may not play a role in you liking him despite how suspicious he can be at times. After he's cycled through all the items, however, he starts asking for other things; snacks you like to eat, whatever you usually have for breakfast, a dessert you're craving for, etc. And he starts bringing in dishes that he likes, and asks for you to eat them with him during your break (even waits outside your stall until you take your break, if you try and lie your way out of it). And when the day comes that you have to pack up and leave your short-lived stall behind, you do so without informing your number 1 customer, which doesn't go across well.

But how were you to know Luocha had also met Dan Heng before, and would be visiting the Express the very next day?

Other customers you meet include Yukong, who's sweet and has the most interesting stories for you. She offers to pilot a Starskiff for you (and promises that she's not a reckless driver anymore, unlike the stories of her youth she may have told you about), invites you to lively parties once you're done for the day, and even shows you around the Luofo herself. You do notice, however, that her eyes dim and her smile fades when you mention leaving the Luofo, even if you don't comment on it. Coming up to the days before you close the stall, she takes you on increasingly exciting trips around the Luofo, all the while assuring you that there is still much to see, as though to entice you into stay longer...

There's also Jing Yuan, who stays for long periods whenever he stops by. He stands by your stall with a languid smile, talking to you while eating. He has a habit of distracting you with sudden questions when ever you notice just how long he's been standing around, asking you about your thoughts on a dish or how long you've been with the Crew. And while his exterior is perfectly relaxed with you, if anyone else dares approach while he's there, all it takes is one inquisitive look from him to send the intruder scurrying away. You've never thought the General to be that frightening, but you supposed his position warranted some extent of fear. Normally, you would be a little irritated about how he was obstructing business, but there was no doubt his pleasant conversation and generous hand made for far better company than a queue of customers in a rush to their next stop.

But a few days before you're set to close the stall, you get approached by a group of officials who warn you that doing business without a permit is illegal. Apparently, whatever documents March got for your little side business wasn't enough, and you were missing some important components. Fortunately, Jing Yuan steps in and offers to help you settle the problem at once, and as you gratefully accept his assistance (with a promise to treat him to a serving of Cosmic Fried Rice on the house sometime). To your surprise, however, you're told that you're required to stay and continue doing business on the Luofu for another few weeks before the license is granted, and you find yourself having no choice but to comply. At least, the General is here to keep you company, right?

At first Blade stopped by only to pick up a serving or two before leaving right after, never indulging in conversation unlike your other patrons. Even his reviews were short and to the point, simply leaving a rating of 5 stars along with his moniker—but as long as it was a good review, you had no complaints. However, as time went by and you saw him increasingly more often (though you took note of the fact that he'd only ever come by when the shade fell across your stall just right and there were little to no other customers), he'd comment on your methods and packaging, with odd lines such as "The box didn't come apart even after a fight," and begin ordering in advance for the next day—he claimed this was a far more efficient system, and offered to pay extra as a booking fee.

He comes off a little strange at times, with his unnerving smile and his peculiar comments, but you think that Blade's one of your better customers. He's patient and his requests are simple, and he deals swiftly with any troublemakers around your stall. Surprisingly, him swinging around his sword threateningly doesn't discourage new customers from checking your stall out. So when the day comes that you have to inform him that there was no tomorrow for his order to be prepared in advance, Blade only regards you with a pensive look and the smallest of nods, before leaving. You would miss him, despite his oddities.

And then you're told that you have to accommodate for a temporary addition on the Astral Express, someone sent by Kafka, and who awaits you in the parlor car but Blade himself?

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

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ddejavvu · 10 months

Note

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE can we get reader being harassed by some guy in an alleyway and hotch is walking by with the team (perhaps going to get drinks after wrapping up a case) AND HE LIKE STEPS IN AND THREATENS THE GUY?? MAYBE EVEN FLASHES HIS BADGE OR SM. Basically I'm thirsty for some protective!hotch <3

You're reminded of how unpredictable life can be when you're yanked backwards unexpectedly, tugged into the darkness of a shadowed alley between two buildings. Five seconds before you'd been thinking about dinner, and now you're not sure you'll live to see another meal.

"Cash," The man grunts, his mouth pressed to your ear as his arm cuts tight around your neck, "I need cash."

"My- my bag," You whimper, frozen stiff in fear and rendered useless, "I- I don't have much, but you- you can take it."

He throws you forwards, ripping your bag off of your shoulder in one fluid motion. He rifles through it while you relearn the art of breathing, but before he can pull your measly collection of bills from the inside pocket of your wallet, there's a gun over your shoulder pointed at his head.

For a moment, you're so dazed that you honestly think you might be holding it. But you don't have a gun, and your wrist doesn't have the dark, wiry hair on it that you see beneath a grey sleeve of whoever's got the weapon.

"Drop the purse, and the knife." A voice booms through the alleyway, deep and firm. If it was directed at you, you'd spook like a horse, and your assailant looks properly terrified.

"It's just a little cash, man," Your attacker tries, "I- I know her! She's my girlfriend."

Your savior knows he's lying before you shake your head vigorously, but you do it anyways, because sitting there and doing nothing feels wrong.

"You've already assaulted someone in front of a federal agent, don't make it worse for yourself by lying about it, too. You're lucky I don't have my cuffs with me or I'd haul you into the back of my SUV and take you down to the station right now. Instead, you're going to drop the purse, and the weapon, and run as fast as you can, because the more time you sit there and let me look at you, the better my chances are of describing you to a sketch artist and placing a warrant out for your arrest."

By the middle of the man's speech, your attacker is trembling just as much as you are. He drops your bag and his knife on command, barely avoiding tripping over the edge of the gutter drain as he flees the scene.

As soon as the gun isn't necessary anymore, the man behind you stashes it in a holster, but you can't see, your back feels permanently adhered to the wall you'd backed up against.

"You're okay," The man assures you, and his voice is much more soothing at a softer tone. He bends to gather your purse, tucking a tube of chapstick back into its confines before holding it out as a peace offering to you.

"He's gone," He promises, ducking down where your eyes are stuck to peer worriedly at you. He has a handsome face, but it's pinched in concern, big brown eyes dripping with care, "And I will put that warrant out for his arrest. Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

"No," You breathe, still pressed to the wall even as you shake your head, "No, he- Thank you, I- I don't know what I would have done without you."

"I usually show up to these things a little late," He grimaces, dropping your purse back down to his side and holding out an empty hand instead, "Can I help you get where you were going?"

"Home." You mutter, "I was- I was going home. After work."

"I can drive you there, if you'd like." He offers, pleased when you reach out with a shaky hand to take his own, "Or we can walk, whichever you prefer. I just want to make sure nothing else happens."

"Um, I- I can pay for a ride. Here," You take your purse back, tugging a bill out that you're lucky to still possess, "If- it's just down the street, if you really don't mind."

"Keep it," He pushes your hand back towards your purse, "I just stopped a guy from taking your money, I'm not gonna do the same. My car's right outside, okay? Let me help you there. And- uh," He rifles through his jacket, "I wasn't lying about being an agent." He showcases a black-covered badge, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner written in bold lettering beneath his name, "You'll be safe with me."

"Okay," You nod, accepting the hand that he holds your arm with to ease you off of the wall and onto your shaky legs, "Uh, thank you, Agent- Hotchner."

"No need." He murmurs, eyes scanning the crowd to make sure there's no sign of your assailant, "Let's just get you home safe, honey."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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ukiyowi · 8 months

Text

What does the universe want you to know right now?

Piles read 1 -> 3

Notes: Hey loves! How it resonates, take what resonates and leave what doesn't. Reblogs help a lot!! Take care and have a lovely day~ If you want more you can check out the paid readings list/tip Jar!

Masterlist || Paid readings || Tip 🍯

⭐ Pile 1

A lot of messages coming towards you pile 1. With the Ace of Pentacles as the very first card, one message is related to you needing to budget and find yourself become more stable with the end of this year. There is a new financial beginning coming towards you and you will be entering a phase of financial growth however with the death rx, you need to change your ways before this is possible.

This can be related to your spending habits or maybe you spend a lot on others and not on yourseld? You may be someone who is big on gifts or showing affection through material objects and may not think twice before spending on others, but the universe is asking you to think if they would do the same for you.

With the Empress card here, you need to start caring for yourself more, give the affection and care you give to others, to yourself as well. I think with the aforementioned energy here as well, the universe is asking you to spend more on yourself. Treat yourself better, treat yourself like you would others, be unabashed in your self love, and indulge more in self care. Another strong message here is that you may have been going through a rough time lately and by rough I mean ROUGH, the eclipse may have done a number on you, and you may have found yourself in the midst of conflicts with friends and families.

You could also have been subjected to learning things that may have been hidden from you earlier. Someone lied or backstabbed/betrayed you and it has either come to light, or it is slowly coming to light and although it seems extremely sudden or uncalled for and although it sounds extremely cliche, it is a blessing in disguise. The person, who these secrets are being revealed about is someone who should have been cut out of your life a long time ago, this could be a close friend, and because you did not cut them out, the universe is taking measures to do so for you. This individual could have heavy virgo energy and could be someone who likes staying alone and loves their solitude, definitely more introverted.

With the Star card here as well, the universe is telling youi to stay hopeful, good things are coming your way VERY soon, the unhelpful and "bad" things that do not serve you anymore just need to be eliminated to make the transition easier and have this be an entirely new emotional beginning soon, where you will feel your inner turmoil calm down and also be faced with doing shadow work with the help of the people around you.

They could act as a reflection to yourself and help you go through tough times, a lot of new people coming in as well as an old friend who you may have departed from physically could be coming back. They may help you close a cycle and gain closure which will help you start your new chapter in its entirety.

⭐ Pile 2

The universes main message thats coming through extremely strongly is that you need to make a decision. You are in 2 minds right now, and although the indirection is warranted, you have been given enough time to come to a decision as harsh as that might sound. You need to make a choice, and you know what the right choice is, the only thing holding you back is that you keep talking yourself out of it. The eclipse really ironically shone light on a lot of things. So just like for pile 1, there are secrets and lies coming to light for you as well pile 2. People who you thought were close, really close, either friends or someone who could be a romantic connection of yours (or potential romantic connection) may have betrayed you and although it has come to light, you are unsure of what action you need to take.

Some harsh advice coming though but I will say it as it is, you have also been lacking when it comes to working to your absolute potential, you have dreams that are very attainable and ones you are passionate about are right around the corner, within your grasp, however you are not able to execute it. You are not able to work towards it because of reasons, one of those could be that you feel like you are going to be judged or that potentially you are already being jjudged by people whos opinions you truly care about. There could also be a lack of will here, not with regards to you wanting it but more with regards to you wanting the end and final state and the rewards before putting in the effort for the same.

With the Empress, Judgement and Death coming out consecutively, the universe is telling you a story here. An older woman or someone with feminine energy and a lot of warmth and maternal energy could be giving you unlimited emotional support and guidance. They could be giving you a lot of support also when it comes thorugh navigating through your own emotions internally. With the judgement they are also guiding you to be fair in your decisions as aforementioned in the reading. This can also be with regards to them helping you with self-criticism and self-judgement, they could be helping you be kinder to yourself as well thorugh helping you self-affirm with more positive verbage. The death also brings about changes, and the tides will be turning to better days through this journey of developing a better self-concept.

The universe is also telling you to be more selfless, be more giving with your time, resources and energy, share it with your loves ones and try to have more fun. Reward yourself for the smallest reasons and do not feel like you are doing something wrong when you celebrate your wins just because they are relatively "smaller" when you compare them to the wins or progress of others; you only need to "compare" yourself with yourself.

⭐ Pile 3

Babes you need strength because oof. Okay so where to start with this. The universe is telling you to tap into your spiritual self and your intuition, what do you really want? what do you really desire?? What is it which will calm the greed within you? These are not superficial things, you will not find it in meaningless romantic relationships that are fleeting, you will not find it when you try to quiet things down by letting yourself and your responsibilities go. The universe is telling you to sit with yourself and get a grip.

You may be going through a hard time right now, something is lost, but you are not looking at your other cups that are already overflowing. Sure things may have gone south at work onve, but how long will you let that hold you back and not look at the good things in your life too. It is okay and even healthy to sulk or feel bad, negative feelings need to be felt and let go of rather than completely ignorring them, but stewing in it for too long can make you lose sight of what is really important.

Grab and grasp the opportunities that are laid out on the table for you, and you will be offered with a lot of opportunities specifically in romance and finances soon, let go of your tunnel vision and be open to newer experiences. It may not fit the bill completely of what you want but it may be something that you need.

Further, with the 2 of swords, again you are avoiding doing somehting because it may end up hurting your feelings or someone elses feelings whos close to you, thus inadvertently hurting you. You are unwilling to acknowledge something going on around you as well, this could be with regards to not moving forward from something this could als obe physically like moving away. You have opportunities to leave where you are right now and it could be the "right" or more favorable decision but you could be in denial with it.

Your behaviour right now could be veering on self-sabotage, you could be going through extreme heartbreak as well with the 3 of swords, damn life is not giving you a break right now, I'm so sorry darling. This heartbreak could result from your meetings, conversations or discussions with an older woman, or someone who has very motherly energy, these conversations may have veered into them being a little strict with you and telling you to be more responsible and to take charge, organise your life and being overall just more aware of things going on around you.

Lets move on to some good news now though phew, so the good news is, you have completed most of your shadow work, even if it is unknowingly, the denial could however be prolonging your period of completing your shadow work and moving on to lightwork. You could be someone who is energetically very easily influenced, like maybe an empath who does not have a lot of protection for their energy which leads to a lot of other peoples energies seeping into your own, so you will be learning how to be in control of this as well, as time goes on (side note but intuitively got that someone with masculine energy who is a little older could help you with this).

#tarot #pick a card #pick a pile #spirituality #tarot reading #pick a card reading #pac reading #pac #intuition #tarot cards #tarotcommunity #tarotblr #free readings #pick a pile reading

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rogueddie · 2 years

Text

One small glimpse had all it took for Eddie to be completely hooked. Just one little glimpse, just enough to get him curious, just enough to get him in the store.

And then he'd truly seen Steve Harrington, dressed in a cute little sailors uniform. The shorts weren't anywhere near as sinful as the ones he wore in gym but... something about them being part of his uniform, something about the fact that someone is paying him to wear them, makes it seem so much more... dirty? Eddie isn't sure, something about it immediately riles him up.

They're so flattering too, somehow make his legs look better than the gym shorts did. When he turns around, bending over to grab something out of the lower cabinet...? Eddie is just glad it was loud, no one could hear the quiet noise he made.

Of course he'd teased him. How could he not? Former King of Hawkins high, reduced to serving ice cream in a slutty sailor suit.

"It's not slutty," Harrington had hissed, flushing bright red. "It's just a uniform."

"Mm, and you wear it so well."

It was just a short little visit. Got some ice cream, said a few teasing things, left within five minutes.

Eddie couldn't stop thinking about it. He'd always found Harrington attractive, who hadn't? He wasn't necessarily ashamed of that. But, even then, it had never been this bad. A fleeting thought that the guy looked good, sure. Waking up in the middle of the night, fantasizing about him in his work uniform?

A week later, he's sure that he's remembering wrong. He's probably just having a bad week, weirdly hormonal and didn't realize that he was into sailor uniforms... or something. Because there's no way Steve Harrington looked so pretty in that uniform that it warranted this much thought.

So, later in the day, he goes back to the mall. Picks up a new album first, heading inside Scoops Ahoy- he'd pass it by on the way back, it gives him the perfect excuse.

Harrington is serving, but he's turned around, talking to his co-worker. It gives Eddie an unfortunately good look at how the shorts pull a little too tight in all the right areas. It doesn't help when he shifts his stance as he talks, leaning forward a little more so his back almost arches, hips tilting to the side and-

Eddie ducks his head to stare at the album in his hand like it's the most fascinating thing in the world, shuffling so the girl in front of him still waiting at the counter blocks his view.

After he finally carries on doing his job, serves the girl so Eddie can sidle up to the counter with a smirk, he rolls his eyes. "Anymore inappropriate comments?"

"Yeah. You sure those shorts are the right size?"

Harrington frowns, looking down at said shorts. "Yeah?"

"Mhm. Sure, I believe you." Eddie glances at his co-worker.

She's a decently pretty girl, he assumes- but she's giving him a knowing look, pretends to tip her hat at him with a wink. Huh.

"Same as last time," Eddie drawls when Harrington finally stops frowning at his uniform.

He stares at him for a moment, squinting a little. He snaps his fingers when he finally remembers, grinning. It's almost criminal- to look that good on a normal day, but then also wear that sailor uniform and also be cute?

Someone up above must hate him.

"Here you go, that's $1.55."

Eddie reluctantly accepts the ice cream, hands him the money in far too many coins. It's the right order. "Is that the right amount?"

Harrington grumbles, annoyed, as he slowly starts counting each cent. Shakes his head when he's done. "5 cents short, sorry dude."

"Damn." Eddie pushes the ice cream back at him so he can dig through both pockets.

"Just- stop, here," Harrington holds the ice cream out. Eddie had very nearly wiggled out what felt like a quarter stuck in his pocket too. "You can pay me back later."

"You sure?" Eddie cautiously takes the offered ice cream. Hesitates for a moment- he's being nice, actually nice. Eddie isn't sure teasing is the best way to repay that but... he's not told Eddie to back off yet. "You just want cash or what?"

"What other type of payment is there?"

"Goods and services," Eddie wiggles his eyebrows.

Harrington splutters for a moment, flushing red again. So Eddie takes the opportunity to leave, not waiting for a response.

Whilst it's only 5 cent, Eddie has learnt the hard way that every penny counts. But he's been given the perfect excuse to come back. He's practically been invited back.

Eddie tries not to feel too giddy. Tries not to let it get to his head.

He holds out exactly three days. Three days of absolute hell! He can barely concentrate half the time, mind constantly wondering back to Harrington in that stupid uniform. The way he'd blushed, again, so easily. Seemed to almost welcome the teasing, too. At least, he didn't seem put off by it. It's almost too good to be true.

He'd been busy all day though. Band practice had run later than they'd planned and everyone else had things they needed to get to afterwards as well. It didn't go well for anyone.

Eddie is lucky he arrives at the mall in time, the stores only just starting to pack up for the evening. Most stores are completely empty- including Scoops Ahoy.

But it's completely empty. Not even Steve or a different employee stand at the counter, or shuffle around the tables cleaning up. For a moment, Eddie is sure that they must have closed up early and he really has arrived too late.

But then the 'staff only' door swings open, Harrington shuffling out. He freezes moments after he steps out, just as surprised to see Eddie.

"Hey," he eventually says. He even gives Eddie a little wave. "Sorry, uh, didn't expect anyone else in. Most of the ice cream is, uh, packed up. I don't... we might still have yours?"

"It's ok if you don't," Eddie offers, sauntering over to the counter. "I'll take a recommendation."

Harrington nods, shuffling over to start rooting through... things. Eddie isn't sure. He keeps up his bad habit of just bending over instead of crouching though. Eddie isn't sure whether he's happy about that or not. It is a nice view.

"We have, uh, the U.S.S Butterscotch ice cream? It's the closest we have available."

"That's fine. As long as it's not vanilla. How much is it?"

"Oh, right, sorry. It's $1.99."

Eddie roots through his pockets, dumping his change on the counter first. He's pretty sure he doesn't have enough- and he's right, he's just about 34 cent short.

"Shit. You got anything cheaper?"

But Harrington shakes his head again, already pulling out the scooper. "Just pay me back. It's fine."

Eddie raises his eyebrows. One time, 5 cents, isn't anything to take note of. A second time, now adding up to 39 cents?

"What if I can't afford to?"

Again, he shrugs off the question. "You're the one who suggested goods and services."

"You know what I was implying with that, right?"

He shrugs again, but he keeps his head down, focusing on fiddling with the ice cream scooper. He's blushing.

Eddie leans forward, onto his elbows, tilting his head. He pats the counter. "Come here then."

"What?" Steve tries to ask. But Eddie just pats the counter again. So Steve steps a little closer, leans on his palms though, keeping straight and upright. "What?"

Eddie looks over him for a moment, considering... it'd be worth the punch, he decides.

He grabs the little red tie of Steve's uniform, pulling him down. He leans up to meet him halfway, unable to hold in his pleased hum when Steve tilts his head to the side as he allows Eddie to pull him down.

His mouth opens just as easily when Eddie immediately deepens the kiss. The noise he makes when Eddie nips at his lower lip too- so high, needy. Irresistible. He just has to bury his hands in his hair, holding his head still so Eddie can take what he wants. Rewards Steve with a little tug on his hair.

He's panting when Eddie finally lets him go, blushing all the way down his neck, eyes a little glassy.

"That enough, sailor?"

Steve blinks at him for a moment, looking a little out of it.

"Steve."

"Oh, uh, yeah... right, yeah, that- yeah. I'll just, um. I'll get your order."

This time, Eddie let's his eyes linger. Doesn't bother hiding it when Steve looks back round, feeling almost gleeful at how Steve almost seems to preen.

... can you tell that I've been thinking about this post too much?

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #ficlet #scoops ahoy #altorprecanon

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shittyassffblog · 8 months

Text

Free Bird

Noah Sebastian x Reader

I felt horny as shit and couldn't stop myself so here is some smut with Noah <3

Warnings: P in v sex, use of Y/N, best friend!noah, oral sex

Pt 2 here

"And you can take your lame ass excuses and shove them up your ass! We're done! Goodbye!" You hung up and threw your phone on your bed, emitting a loud, frustrated and high pitched groan. You heard your PC ping on your desk and you glanced at it to see what was going on. It was Discord that alerted you that you had a message.

noah: wanna come on?

You stared at it, kind of angry that he didn't anticipate that you had just broken up with your boyfriend, but the rational part of you spoke louder and decided to just tell him you weren't in the mood.

you: naw, bad day. talk to u later tho <3

He was already typing so you sat in your chair and waited for his reply.

noah: at least call me and tell me what happened, maybe I can make your day better?

You bit your lip as you considered his offer. He was your best friend since you met at the Hot Topic you used to work at. He was just a tall, lanky emo buying A Day To Remember merch and you instantly had a connection with him. Since then, you started being friends and talking to each other every day. It's been 10 years now and you meant the world to each other. You had supported him through everything when it came to Bad Omens and you were so proud of how far he and the boys have come. So given how close you were you decided to just call him.

You put on your headset and glanced in the mirror beside your desk to see if it was noticeable that you'd been crying and decided that it wasn't. Not even five seconds passed after you pressed the "video call" button and he picked up.

"Hey sweets, what's up? Wanna talk about your bad day?" Noah asked and you sighed. You didn't even know where to start.

"Me and Chase broke up." You said shortly and Noah was silent for a while.

"Oh. Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice. Noah never liked your boyfriend and you knew that. You were half expecting him to clap in enjoyment.

"Not really. I was kind of expecting you to congratulate me." You said, still not looking at him.

"Why would I do that? You don't seem like this was a happy choice." He said.

"I broke up with him. But he cheated." You said and a tear fell down your cheek.

"God he's such a dick. But good for you that you left him. That doesn't mean that you're not allowed to be upset by it though." Noah said and you looked at him with tearful eyes. You were about to answer him when you heard a loud noise coming from him.

"Alright that's it, I'm coming over." He said, slamming his fist in his table.

"But it's 11 pm?" You said, almost as a question.

"Yeah well my best friend is sad over her shitty ex boyfriend, you don't think that warrants me coming over with pizza and booze? C'mon, what kind of a friend would I be? I'll be there soon. Love you!" He said and hung up before you could answer You sighed as the silence settled in your room and you looked around. You noticed Noahs hoodie hanging on your lamp and you decided to put it on. You walked into your bathroom to access the damage of your tears and found that it wasn't too bad. You wiped away a few stray tears with your sleeve and walked into your living room, seeing a few of your ex' stuff lying around. You grabbed a box from you last amazon shipment and filled it with everything you could find, including the stupid Five Finger Death Punch t-shirt he had given you, thinking you'd like it. As if. He didn't even know the bands you listened to.

Amid your rage cleaning, you heard the doorbell ring and you stopped as you dropped a shoe into the box. You looked at it and the memories of your past relationship came flooding back, as did your tears. You went to let Noah in and he immediately went to hug you.

"I'm so sorry you're going through this." He said and kissed the top of your head as the hood of his hoodie fell down. You cried into his chest and he rubbed his hand along your arm.

After a while he lead you to the couch and set down the pizza and beer bottle he had picked up for you on the coffee table.

"Wanna tell me what happened? How did you find out?" Noah asked, separating from you to wipe away your tears.

"She fucking DM'ed me. The girl he was with, her name was Emily or something. She had slept with him and then found him on Facebook to find that it said he was in a relationship and decided to tell me about it and apologised. Of course i don't blame her, she didn't know. But man, it just felt like a knife in my gut." You said, sniffing. Noah grabbed a napkin from the coffee table and handed it to you to help you blow your nose.

"Then did you call him?" Noah asked, taking the pizza out of the bag so you could use the bag as a trash can your your snotty paper.

"Yeah and I spent like 20 minutes yelling at him. He tried saying something like she was lying or something but she had sent me screenshots of him asking to pick her up or something." You finished and Noah sighed, pulling you in for another hug.

"He's isn't worth your tears c'mon. You're far too good of a catch to let a guy like that ruin you." Noah said and you smiled up at him. The doorbell rung again and you looked at Noah quizzically. He got up and opened the door for you. It was Chase. You felt your whole body stiffen.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me." Noah said, immediately tensing his body. Chase only laughed when he saw Noah, and then looked over at you.

"Really Y/N? Not even an hour later and you're already on to the next one? Knew I couldn't trust you, fucking bitch." He said and before you could answer, Noah had pushed Chase out the door.

"Yeah you don't get to make accusations you know nothing about. I think you should leave." Noah said, his words and tone calm but his body ready for whatever Chase could come up with.

"I knew there was more to this...thing, you and her call a friendship, so much for the bro code huh?" Chase said, trying to upset Noah.

"Don't think for a second I think of you as a bro. Not for one damn second. It is very easy to treat a woman right without expecting something in return and you couldn't even do that so leave." Noah said, pushing Chase once more. You couldn't do much but watch as everything happened. You were frozen.

"You're just gonna sit there looking stupid? What's wrong with you bitch, say something!" Chase yelled, charging forward towards you but was stopped in his tracks as Noah grabbed a handfull of his hair and dragged him outside. You ran to the door to see what was going on and Noah forced Chase down on the ground, got down on one knee and grabbed his throat.

"You leave her alone. Got it?" Chase nodded weakly and as soon as Noah let go and stood up, he ran as fast as he could. Noah walked quickly into the living room, grabbed the box of Chase's things and threw them after him.

"Don't think about coming back." He yelled and watched as Chase pathetically picked his stuff up from the ground. Noah walked back to you, taking a deep breath to calm down and grabbed your face.

"Are you okay? Did he always talk to you like that?" He asked calmly and you nodded.

"He has anger issues." You said meekly and Noah wrapped you in his arms.

"Let's devour that pizza now, shall we?" Noah asked and you smiled at him as you nodded.

"Didn't know you were that strong though." You said, trying to lighten the mood.

"I may or may not have been working out while I was on tour." He said flexing his arms playfully. You laughed as you sat down to enjoy the pizza.

A few days passed and you were doing surprisingly well. Noah was practicing for the next leg of the tour and you were setting up dating profiles. You decided that you needed a palate cleanser to get rid of the "chase cooties" as Noah called it when he suggested you try it. You were apprehensive at first but ultimately decided it was a good idea.

You were in your kitchen waiting for your leftovers to heat up in the microwave as you were swiping on tinder. No one really captured your eye except this one guy with a dragon tattooed on his neck. His name was Steven and he was not far from you. You decided to swipe on him, and not long after your microwave dinged so you locked your phone and went to eat it. As you sat by your counter and ate your food, a notification came up that Steven had matched with you. Not long after he sent you a message.

Steven: Hey, nice tats. Wanna grab a drink this week?

You stared at the message. No emojis. He had two pictures on his profile, but it linked to his instagram. You looked through and he seemed real enough so you said yes to the drink.

You planned to meet the following friday and you texted Noah to let him know where you'd be in case something happened.

Noah: go get em tiger! get ur dick wet!

You laughed at his message and sent a gif saying 'disgustang'.

Friday came and you were getting dressed for your date. You put on some dark red lipstick and a low cut top Chase never allowed you to wear and headed out the door. You felt very liberated that you could make your own choices again and happily waited for Steven a few blocks away from your apartment.

Not long after a black sports car Xoomed up to your and packed right in front of you. A very attractive man with a dragon on his neck emerged from the car.

"Y/N?" He asked and you nodded. He walked around the car and grabbed your hand to kiss it. "Pleasure to meet you, gorgeous." he said and you blushed.

"Likewise." You said and he smiled while opening the car door for you.

Not long after you arrived at the bar and he ordered you a drink and a beer for himself. You talked for a while and had a genuinely good conversation. You went to the bathroom and texted Noah an update and he sent a sports gif of a tiger mascot. You laughed and put your phone in your pocket, ready to get out the guy again.

When you came back, Steven started asking you some personal questions. At first you didn't think much of it, but the question got more and more sexual and you were feeling quite uncomfortable. When you answers got more and more short and cold he started berating you, asking why you were such a prude and generally being a dick to you.

"Do you think you just get free drinks and then that's it? No no, you gotta do something for me too sweetheart." He said and you picked up your phone, texting Noah to come get you.

"You don't seem like a very nice person." You said, finishing your drink and locking eyes with the bartender. He nodded at you, meaning he would keep an eye on you.

"I'm very nice, trust me, but only to nice girls, not gold diggers like you." He bit back and you put on your jacket. You didn't answer him, only stared at him.

"What you're just not gonna say anything?" He asked and you still didn't answer. The bartender came over.

"Hey so I think you should leave now." Said the bartender and Steve looked up at him like he was dumb.

"You can't kick me out, I didn't do anything." He said, rolling his eyes and looking back at you.

"Yes we can , we have the right to refuse service to anyone for any reason. So leave." He said back and you started to feel scared of what Steven would do.

"Let me speak to your manager." said Steven and the bartender agreed. Steven got up and went to the bar, and while he was arguing with the bar manager you slipped out, waiting for Noah. Just as you got outside, he pulled up and you got into the car,

"Hey sweets, how was it?" Noah teased and you rolled your eyes.

"Horrible, he was a giant dick." You said, grabbing the water bottle Noah brought for you. You took a giant gulp of it.

"What do you mean?" Noah asked as he drove you home.

"He was just horrible, I don't really wanna talk about it. " You said, and he nodded, respecting your privacy, You would talk about it when you wanted to.

"Don't let this one guy deter you from online dating though. It can be really fun you know." Noah said and you scoffed.

"Yeah for guys maybe." You said coldly and Noah glanced at you. He knew you didn't mean anything by it.

"Wanna elaborate?" He asked and you sighed.

"Well it's just, for guys it's fine, you can just order women to do what you want and if they don't want to it's on to the next one and then you put your dick in them and then that's that. For women it's like, if I reject this guy, will I be dead by the time the sun comes up?" You said huffing. Noah nodded in understanding.

"I mean I know that's a real fear that women have and that sucks a lot, but there must be a space where you can have fun too right?" He asked carefully. He didn't want to seem like he wasn't empathetic to your pain, but he still wanted to help you get over your ex.

"Yeah with a person you trust sure. But online dating is a rapists wet dream." you said. "And even then, sex isn't even worth that much."

Noah looked at you quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I just never felt that big climax that people talk about. I guess my orgasms aren't very intense when I have sex." You said and Noah looked questioningly at you while still keeping an eye on the road.

"Well what about when you're alone?" He asked and you looked at him. Might as well be honest now, you thought.

"Yeah then I feel great, but when I'm with someone it's like it's just there a little, then it gets kind of good but then they're done." You said shrugging your shoulders. Noah let out a noise you had never heard before.

"You never had anyone give you an orgasm?" Noah asked incredulously.

"Well I don't know. Maybe?" You said. "I've only ever been with Chase." You said. And Noahs eyes were bigger than you've ever seen them before. You were arriving at your house and he put the car in park.

"What about when he ate you out?" Noah asked, genuinely curious.

"Chase thought it was gross. Don't you?" You asked, turning your body a little. He looked at you like you were crazy.

"What?" You asked.

"I love eating pussy, it's my favourite passtime!" He said and you laughed.

"What do you mean? Does it even taste good?" You asked and he nodded wildly

"Yeah I mean it depends a lot but generally yeah I like the taste." Noah said.

"Well, Chase never liked it so we didn't do it." You said, crossing your legs. Noah chuckled a little.

"He really was a little bitch huh. You deserve someone who loves eating your pussy." He said, grabbing your leg, like he'd done many times before, but this time it was different. This time his hand shot electricity up your thigh, making you squirm a little in your seat.

"Would...Would you show me?" You asked and his grip on your thigh tightened. You glanced a little at him and you could see his jaw tightened.

"I uh..I don't know if that's a good idea Y/N." He said and you looked at him properly. He wouldn't meet your eyes, but his hand stayed where it was.

"C'mon Noah. I've clearly missed out on a lot. Show me." You asked, getting closer to him. You didn't know where all this confidence came from, or why you wanted your best friends mouth on you so bad, but you did. He turned to look at you, but his eyes were trained on your lips. He let out a shaky breath and let go of your leg. You leaned back, afraid you had upset him or made him uncomfortable, but he was taking off his seat belt.

"I'll show you. But just this once, I don't wanna ruin our friendship. And we don't mention it to anyone." He said and you grinned, unbuckling your own seat belt and got out of his car. You already felt yourself getting excited.

"Wow you are really horny huh?" Noah said as he locked the car, holding out his arm to wrap it around your shoulder as he walked you inside. You unlocked the door and led him to your bedroom.

As you closed the door, he sat himself on the bed. You sat beside him and a kind of awkward silence fell between you. You felt like you kind of sobered up by the reality of what you had asked your best friend to do.

"If this is gonna ruin our friendship we could just forget it or something." You said, not meeting Noah eye. He looked at you for a moment not answering.

"We could also just agree to not let it ruin our friendship. This is a one time thing, to show you what you should expect from guys that you date in the future, and to get to know each other better." Noah said, and you were surprised he seemed to have thought this through.

"That doesn't sound too bad." You said, looking down at your hands. He reached over and held one of them, squeezing it to make you look at him.

"I love you, Y/N. I want to keep being friends so this will just be two people having fun for a night and then never doing it again, right?" He asked with a sweet smile and you nodded. He smiled a little wider and before you knew it, he was leaning in, closing his eyes in the process.

"Woah what are you doing?" You said, pulling away. He opened his eyes and looked at you quizzically.

"Well I need to turn you on before we begin, only way I know how to do that is to kiss you first, is that okay?" He asked softly. When he said it, it makes sense. But no one ever did this with you. Cared for your pleasure like this. It was different.

"Y-yeah, that's umm...that's okay." You stuttered out, and he smiled again, this time moving closer to you and lightly grabbing your chin with his thumb og index finger. You let yourself relax and Noah do what he wanted to. He seemed to know best. When his lips touched yours it was light and soft, yet had passion. Like he wanted something you didn't know to give him, and it was his job to pull it from you. You kissed back, and before you knew it, his tongue was in your mouth. You had thought about kissing Noah before, but this was way different than what you had imagined. Good different, but different.

His hand on your chin fell to your neck, tracing down your arm and landed itself on your waist. He pulled, as if to get you to move closer. Already this was way better than what you had experienced before, Noah clearly knew what he was doing. You wondered where he had learned it, but decided to not ask. This was too nice.

A soft moan fell from his lips and you were brought back from your train of thought. His lips left yours and for a second you thought about whining, but when his lips attached to your jaw, right below your ear and then your neck, that whine quickly turned into a moan.

"Sensitive on your neck?" He asked and you let out a breathy sound that was supposed to be a laugh. He went right back to kissing your neck, teeth getting involved sometimes and the moans that were falling from your lips were fewer between.

"Can I take your shirt off?" Noah asked and you nodded. He smiled and grabbed the hem of your shirt, lifting it up over your head. "It's a shame though." He said, eyeing up your chest.

"What is?" You asked, kind og dazedly.

"Taking your shirt off. You looked really good in it. Why don't you ever dress like that for me?" He asked smirking while laying you down on your back, leaning over you.

"Well I don't make it a habit of sleeping with my best friend." You said smiling slightly.

"You should, he's enjoying it so far." He joked and you laughed while he kissed you between your breasts. "Can I take off your bra too?" He asked, looking up at you. His voice was low, which only made this all the more enticing. You nodded slowly, laying your head back to try and think of something else besides your best friend looking at your tits. You lifted your back little so he could fit his arm under it and unclasp your bra. He slowly guided the straps down your arms, a soft groan emitting from his lips.

"Goddamn, if I knew you were hiding these under your baggy hoodies we would have done this a long time ago." Noah said, and you laughed a little.

"Yeah cause when we met at 14 my tits were definitely this size, right." You joked, but your sentence ended with a gasp as his lips closed around one nipple while his hand massaged the other. He was soft about it all, like licking a soft serve ice cream. It caused you to mewl, which Chase could never have done to you. It was like Noah knew how to handle your body, without ever asking you.

"Kinda wanna think about your adult tits right now if you don't mind?" He said as he shifted to the other nipple. You chuckled at that and let him do his thing. He moved on to your stomach and when he reached the edge of your pant he stopped and looked up at you yet again asking, "Is this okay? can I take your pants off?" You nodded and lifted your ass, his slender, tattooed fingers grasping the edge of your pants and pulling them down, kissing just above the edge of your underwear.

"These too?" He asked and you laughed a little.

"You gonna ask every time you do something new?" You asked and he stopped what he was doing to look at you.

"Yes, how else do I know what I have consent for?" He asked.

"That is the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me ever." You said and he laughed.

"You gotta raise your standards babe." He said, going back to kissing the lower part of your stomach. "You gonna answer my question?" He asked, running his hands up and down your legs.

"I forgot what the question was." You said truthfully. He laughed as he rested his head again your hip.

"I asked if I could take off your underwear too." He said, and your heart started beating faster.

"Uh yeah. Yeah that's okay." You said. The seriousness of the situation was starting to settle in and you were kind of nervous. When he pulled off your underwear it would be crossing a line that has never been crossed before and it couldn't ever be uncrossed again. Noah could sense your hesitation so he stopped.

"If you wanna stop, tell me. It's no fun if you're not having fun." He said and you knew he meant it.

"No it's okay I'm just kind of nervous." You admitted and he came back up to your face.

"Hey. It's just me. It'll be okay." He said smiling and you smiled back, taking in a deep breath as he lowered his body again, kissing along your body as he did so. He grabbed the hem of your underwear and pulled them down. You were worried he would be repulsed by then smell of you, but when you looked down at him all you could see was hunger in his eyes. It made you feel better to know that he didn't care about the smell, so you tried to relax in his presence.

He kissed the inside of your thigh, grabbing them both and pushing up so you bend your knees. You felt very exposed, and you wished he would just get on with it.

"So pretty baby. Can't wait to taste you." He said and it made your stomach soar. Did he really not find it gross?

"You know, you don't have to do this either, like if it's too gross for you or something." You said, biting your lip. You wanted him to continue, but you understood if he didn't want to.

"I don't wanna stop. And nothing about this perfect pussy could be gross." He said, kissing up your other thigh. You took a deep breath and let him do as he pleased.

He kissed your pussy as if he was knocking for entrance, and spread your legs further. He then started at your clit, licking small, tentative licks as to not overwhelm you. When you sighed in pleasure he took that as a sign he could continue, and let his tongue wander down to your entrance and licked into you.

"Oh my god." You said, already it felt better than it has with anyone else. It seemed to urge Noah to go further, so he licked a big broad stripe up your pussy and you hummed.

"Oh Noah it feels so good." You said lowly and he smiled. A devilish smile, one that you felt was too cocky for his own good but you were struggling to care. He pleasured you with such patience, the tight feeling in your stomach building and building and you almost thought he was a magician, as fast as he was getting you worked up.

What you didn't expect was the finger that was circling your opening before entering you gently.

"Holy fuck, Noah." You said and he hummed a soft 'hmm?' as if asking what was the issue.

"Oh you make me feel so good Noah." You said and his finger slid into you further and further, stopping and then curling, reaching a spot inside you that made your whole body writhe. He was rubbing the spot, not letting one movement of his finger go without touching it.

"What the fuck Noah?" You asked, sitting half up as you grabbed his hair to keep yourself grounded. He detached himself from your pussy and smiled up at you.

"That feel good baby?" He asked, his eyelids hanging low on his eyes. You could do nothing but nod as the movements of his fingers didn't halt for even a second while he took at good look at you. He went back to your clit, this time sucking on it gently and making your hips buck up into his face. It only seemed to spur him on, as his movements sped up. You felt a familiar feeling coming and you tangled your fingers in Noah’s hair, pulling when he hit a particularly nice spot inside you.

“Noah, I’m so close.” You warned, and he sped up yet again, only he stopped sucking your clit and instead look at you through heavy eyelids, right into yours. You were a moaning mess, not being able to control it anymore as you came on his fingers, yelling his name out. He helped you through your orgasm and when you were panting for air he slowly pulled his finger out of you and made sure you saw him lick it clean. You couldn’t believe what just happened, your best friend just gave you the orgasm of your life.

“How in the hell did you do that?” You asked him, still not being able to catch your breath.

“Well practice makes perfect I guess” he said laughing. You laughed with him and he came up to lay beside you. A silence fell between you, but it wasn’t awkward. You were still coming down from your high and you noticed Noah shifting a little, seeming restless.

“You okay over there?” You asked and he looked at you with a little blush on his face.

“Well, I told you I love eating pussy” he said chuckling slightly as he readjusted himself in his shorts You considered your options. You could leave the room, pretend you had to pee and let him do his thing. Or…

“You want help with that?” You asked, turning to him. He looked at you, searching your eyes for any sort of insincerity, but he couldn’t find any. He nodded slowly and you smiled, reaching hesitantly over to kiss his lips. You tasted yourself on him, and you couldn’t imagine what Chase would have against the taste, it was not bad at all. You were taken by surprise when Noah wrapped his arms around you and pulled you on top of him, deepening the kiss.

“You are wearing far too many clothes.” You said between kisses and he hummed a sound of agreement. You pulled off his hoodie and went right back to kissing him, hungry for him in a way you never were for anyone else. He grabbed two handfuls of your ass, not caring if his grip left bruises on it, grinding you down onto the bulge in his shorts. It made you moan into his mouth, giving him an opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth. You grinded on him as your tongues pushed against each other, revelling in this new feeling with each other. It felt liberating, to not care where the line was or how far it was crossed.

"How do you wanna do this? Hm?" Noah asked, and you were confused by what he meant.

"What?" Was all you could muster out, being out of breath.

"Do you wanna have sex?" Noah asked directly this time and you thought about it for only a second before nodding wildly. He smiled at that and rolled you around, getting up from the bed to undress fully. You could not contain your stare, and you wanted to touch yourself so bad. He had clearly been working out on tour, his once lanky frame was replaced by the lean muscles of his arms, his legs were carved like a god and the tattoos definitely only made it better.

"Touch yourself for me." Noah said which brought you back to reality.

"What?" You asked, wondering if you had heard him correctly. He couldn't possibly mean that, right?

"If you're comfortable, then touch yourself for me. Want to see you pleasure yourself." He said as he pulled off his underwear. You didn't dare look, afraid it would make him uncomfortable so you looked at the ceiling as your hand travelled from your stomach down to your core. You ran your fingers along your clit in a circular motion and you felt the bed dip as he came to lay beside you.

"You're such a good girl Y/N. You really are. Look at you, doing exactly what I told you. Such a good girl." Noah whispered in your ear and it only made your fingers speed up.

"You have a condom sweetheart?" He asked and you pointed towards the nightstand you had by your bed. He turned around to grab one, and while we was distracted you took at look at his member and let out a moan you didn't mean to let out. He was big, bigger than Chase and you could barely imagine it would fit. You fingers stilled as your gaze was caught on his thick cock.

"What's wrong sweets?" Noah asked, rubbing his thumb along your thigh.

"Oh nothing uhh, nothing." You said, smiling at him. He could tell it wasn't nothing though.

"Hey, you can tell me, do you want to stop?" He asked, and you shook your head furiously.

"No! No no, I'm just, nervous I guess." You admitted, looking down. He turned to hug you and kissed your forehead.

"Nothing to be nervous about baby, it's just me." He said smiling.

"Will it fit though?" You asked sheepishly and his eyes shot to yours. You worried you had said something wrong.

"That is the hottest shit i've ever heard." He said, kissing your lips. You smiled into the kiss, your hands grabbing his face and letting the kiss overtake you. He rolled on top of you, slotting himself in between your legs, groping your body and worshipping the softness of your skin. He started grinding against your heat, pulling moans from your lips.

"God Noah, please do something." You whined and he smiled mischievously, kissing you one last time before sitting back on his knees and stroking his cock a few times before running it up and down your slit. This you knew how to do. This was familiar terretory. Or so you thought. He pushed into you slowly, relishing in the tightness of your pussy, and when he bottomed out, he let out a long groan, burying his face in your neck. You had never felt so cared for and filled to the brim with pleasure before. You were overwhelmed with emotion and felt tears spring to you eyes.

"You just tell me when I can move- hey are you okay?" Noah immediately changed demeanour when he saw your wet eyes.

"No yeah I'm good, really, I just...uhm I don't know why." You admitted and he smoothed down your hair to comfort you.

"Do you want to stop?" He asked and you shook your head, smiling at him.

"No it's okay, you can move. I promise I'm fine!" You assured him as he looked at you questioningly. He didn't seem convinced.

"I promise I'm fine Noah, I'm just a bit overwhelmed, no one ever took care of me like this before." You said, avoiding his eyes. He kissed your cheek.

"Okay, but you have to tell me if I have to stop okay? Can you promise that?" He asked, trying to catch your eyes. You nodded, and he smiled a comforting smile as he kissed your neck again.

"You can move." You said, and he pulled almost all the way out, only to slide right back in, in the same excruciatingly slow pace. You wrapped your legs around his lower back, boring your heels into him, desperate to have him fuck you senseless.

"Noah, please, c'mon." You plead and he chuckled.

"Tell me what you want baby." He murmured in your ear, his pace still as slow.

"Please fuck me Noah." You asked, looking him directly in the eyes. He looked back, and before long his hips picked up speed, pounding into you as you threw your head back in pleasure.

"Oh Noah!" You moaned, not caring how loud you were. If your neighbours heard, you'd hear about it in the morning. The sound of your moans only spurred Noah on, his thrusts relentless and his breath fast.

"Fuck Y/N. Fuck we're definitely doing this again." He said and you laughed breathlessly as you dug your nails into is back. He moved slightly and with that he started hitting a spot that felt incredible many times, over and over, eliciting screams from your throat.

"Holy fuck Noah, shit shit shit, fuck, oh fuck." You rambled and Noah kept up his thrusts, moving his hips back and forth. You could feel the feeling come back, the incredibly intense feeling in your core building and building, and before long your nails dragged along his back as you screamed out his name. Your pussy clenched around him and you couldn't hold back even if you tried. Your orgasm overflowed and wouldn't stop, you legs shaking as the intense waves of pleasure washed over you. Noah kept thrusting into you through your orgasm, and when you opened your eyes again he turned you around so he was under you.

"You okay?" He asked breathlessly and you nodded lazily.

"Yeah just...intense." You said smiling. "Did you..?" You asked.

"No not yet." He said smiling. "Are you okay to continue?" He asked.

"Yeah I'm okay." You said, moving your hips slowly. He grabbed your ass, holding onto you tight and lifting you a little and started pounding into you even more relentlessly. You could barely think straight as he used your pussy until he came into the condom, deep groan escaping his throat. His hips slowed down and he let you go, burying his now softening cock into you as he caught his breath.

"Holy shit Noah." You said out of breath ad he laughed.

"Was that okay?" He asked and you nodded, kissing him. You didn't know when would be the last time you got to kiss him like this again so you decided to enjoy as much as you could. He grabbed the base of the condom and told you to get off and you did. He removed the condom and wrapped it in some tissues you had on your nightstand, as well as wiping his dick. When he was done he looked over at you and smiled. You smiled back and you wrapped yourselves in each others arms, enjoying the bubble you two had created that no one could penetrate.

The morning after woke up alone, your clothes on the floor and a feeling of complete satisfaction, yet complete loneliness.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens #concrete forever #bad omens band #jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo #nick folio #noah sebastian smut

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moki-dokie · 2 months

Text

since some people need a lesson on how to do this...

HOW TO APOLOGIZE:

Part a) acknowledge and take responsibility for The Thing you did that warrants an apology. ex: "I said something that was racist.". Part b) acknowledge the harm you have caused. ex: "I said something that was racist and deeply hurt you."

say you are sorry and mean it. nothing else. do not explain, defend, or excuse your actions in any way. that may happen later IF and ONLY if the person you are apologizing to asks you to provide a reason. say sorry, then full stop.

make a resolution to do better going forward. you will learn from this and do your honest best not to let it happen again.

you may ask forgiveness, but also know they do not owe you it. Also ask if there is something you can do to fix things. ex: if you broke something of theirs, you might offer to buy a replacement.

viola. you now know how to apologize for something.

here are some ways to NOT apologize:

"I'm sorry if what i said offended you that wasn't my intention."

there is no IF about anything here. you offended them, period. it doesn't matter what your intention was. you offended them. fix it.

"yeah i realize i said some fucked up shit i was having a bad autistic day."

you do not get to weaponize your own issues for guilt and pity points, regardless if you realize you're doing it or not. you still have to take responsibility for your disability (and mental illnesses too)and using it to shield you from admitting you fucked up is not how you do things. if the person you're apologizing to wants to know what triggered you to behave that way, then you can explain. it should not be part of the apology itself. that is deflection.

"i'm white so obviously i'm going to have some internalized racism but sorry if being a silly billy and having a temper upset some people!! totally working on that guys."

do i really need to even explain this like??? your internalized bigotry isn't a get out of jail free card. we all have it. its part of being human. however, it should always be the goal to move forward and actively fight against learned prejudices. you do that by owning up to them by apologizing when they come out. your white privilege isn't something you get to hide behind. i know, its hard to believe. furthermore, do not make light of a serious issue. you don't get to call yourself a silly billy or a bonehead when the word you are looking for is bigot. and you can say you're working on it all you want, but you need a way to be held accountable. take the opportunity to ask if there is anything else you've said or done that might be insensitive or prejudiced in some way. actually show you're actively doing something to be better.

#in light of a certain situation going on rn #but in general a lot of folks around here need to learn how to fucking say sorry

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neonpaperlanterns · 3 months

Note

Hello! I noticed you were open to any ideas or prompts and I thought of one

Reader being a worker of playtime that was Assigned to help dogday taking care of the children (this happens before the hour of joy) and reader has Cynophobia (extreme fear of dogs) and so when they first land their eyes on dogday, panic

Reader tries to avoid talking or being near dogday as best as they could, Which would confuse and made dogday feel guilty thinking he did something wrong to upset them

So dogday being the sweet pup he is tries to comfort and show reader he's not a bad guy

It's a bit long sorry ^^"

[A/n: I almost feel like I should make this a full series. Just to explore the development more]

He's a dog

Everything is fine, it’s perfectly, totally fine. You aren’t freaking out. Yeah totally not freaking out. These palms are completely dry and your heart is beating at a completely normal rate.

So what if things didn’t turn out how you thought they would? You were adaptable, you could roll with the punches. Even if… Even if the punches were this.

“Alright everyone, we have some new members joining us today!” Says the giant talking DOG.

This. Is. Fine!

You got this as long as—

The dog is touching your shoulder. His voice echoes in your ears and yeah no.

Nope.

You have got nothing. Nothing!

No—

~~~~~~~~~~

Your eyes flutter open. Breathing deeply you stare up at the ceiling. It’s a mix of yellow, red, and blue. The paint is chipping in the red part, showing that underneath the ceiling is just plain gray concrete.

Hm. Where were you?

“Oh you’re awake!” The voice was cheerful, sunny even. Looking over you are filled with regret. Standing in the doorway of what you now understand to be a nurses office was the dog. Every muscle in your body seized up and it felt like your throat was full of cotton.

“I was so worried when you fainted. Are you alright? It didn’t say anything in your application that you were susceptible to dizzy spells~” He kept talking, his hands? Paws? His appendages moved around animatedly. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he moved closer. His words turned to white noise as he loomed over you.

If there was some divine being watching from above why did they hate you? Had you done something in a past life to warrant such ire?

“Oh dear, you look like you’re going to faint again. Is there something I can help you with?” All you could do was blink owlishly at his concern. Words were unable to come as you stared at him. You were sure you looked akin to a deer in headlights. You watched him cough awkwardly into his fist. The smile never left his face but it wasn’t as genuine as before.

For what felt like forever you stared at each other.

“Okay, um I’ll leave you to rest. And when you feel better I look forward to working with you!” Some of that sunny disposition returned to his face. You did nothing but blink and watch him shuffle out of the room.

He said he looked forward to working with you. The sentiment was not returned but you were sure you wouldn't be seeing him much. You were assigned to be the helper of the unicorn. So you were sure you would be able to avoid him as much as possible.

~~~~~~~~~~

There must be a god and they must hate you. They must find your suffering to be the ultimate entertainment. You had thought you were meant to be CraftyCorn's helper. You could have sworn you were. But no! By some unholy sick twist of fate you are actually the assistant to him.

The desire to cry on your second day of work was overwhelming. But you held it in. Somehow. You had already fainted on the first day you did not need to get a reputation. So you sucked it up. At least you tried to suck it up. It didn’t help that DogDay was so tactile and friendly and inclusive.

You were living in your own personal hell.

“Hey there my happy helper!” If DogDay noticed you flinch, he didn’t say anything. But he did slow down and there was still some distance between you two.

You stared at him.

He stared at you.

A cough escapes him as you fidget.

“I uh need your help with one of the kids. It’s Isabelle.” You didn’t know all of the kids yet so you weren’t actually sure which one Isabelle was. But you nodded anyway and trailed after him. You may not like this but you did like the kids. You would bear it for them.

~~~~~~~~~

DogDay had no idea what he did wrong. He watched the other Smiling Critters with their helpers. Everyone was getting along. It was so nice to watch the others but then he glanced over at his own helper. Who sat with their shoulders hunched up around their ears and a perpetual thousand yard stare.

He had thought that maybe you were just shy. Not yet used to them but he has seen you interact with the others. You were quiet but happy. Talking freely and playing with them and letting the children climb all over you. But the moment he walked over you would freeze up. Any pretense of joy wiped from your face and replaced with a blank look.

He confided in Catnap and KickinChiken that he felt like you didn’t like him. Catnap had simply flicked his tail at him but KC told him that was impossible. He said that DogDay was a rad dude and his helper just needed time.

But it’s been a month and every attempt to get to know you was met with either silence or your rapidly walking in the other direction. He just didn’t understand and it was driving him crazy. Had his first impression been too much? Did he come on too strong when he came to see you in the nurse's office?

He wished he knew. He just wants to be your friend.

~~~~~~~~~

You were starting to feel like a jerk. At every turn DogDay was trying to be nice to you and at every turn you would bolt away or shut down. And he definitely noticed. How couldn't he? You weren’t known for subtlety, especially not in this situation.

Though with the forlorn looks you were getting from DogDay you wished you had been.

“Hey Happy Helper.” You watched as his hands did a lackluster wiggle. He wasn’t looking at you and they just made you feel even worse.

“H...H..” You swallowed thickly. “Hey Bodacious Boss.” Did you just say bodacious? To your boss? From the look on his face he was just as shocked as you. Though you don’t think it was because you said bodacious. Probably.

After a moment of silence with you staring at each other, DogDay recovered first. He was looking at you now and he was smiling and his tail was wagging. Seeing him light up made you feel a bit better. Your hands were still clammy and there was a lot of saliva pooling on your tongue but it was nice to see him happy.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Can I ask you a question?” DogDay picked at the fur on his wrists. It’s only been a week since you spoke to him and boy was he nervous. He didn’t want to ruin whatever this was.

“Hm?” You were making sandwiches for the kids. It would be lunchtime soon. Shuffling in place he took your noncommittally hum as que that you were listening.

“Do you like me?” He watched as your shoulders stiffen. That blank look slowly creeping back onto your face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“I’m afraid of dogs.” You blurted out stopping DogDay in his apologetic tracks.

“What?” It was his turn to blink owlishly. Not really sure what to say right now.

“When I was younger there was an incident…” You waved your hand in the air, like you didn’t want to remember it. “Anyways it messed me up and ever since I have been terrified of dogs.” You continued to make sandwiches.

“I’m a dog.” He says rather dumbly.

“I know.” You nod as you heave a sigh.

“I’m.. I’m sorry.” He frowns as he pulls at his ears and he can feel his tail sag against his legs.

“Please, don’t be.” You look up at him, a tight but genuine smile on your face. Your hand shakes a bit as you raise it in his direction.

“I like you. You’re my Bodacious Boss.” DogDay felt his tail twitch as he tentatively took your hand.

“I like you too, my Happy Helper.”

#poppy playtime #dogday x reader #reader insert #dogday poppy playtime #cynophobia #fear of dogs #very brief mention of childhood trauma #kickinchicken #catnap #craftycorn #bodacious

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lovesickry · 8 months

Text

- let the light in.

┈⋆⭒ lando norris x rival femdriver!reader [1.8k] ┈⋆⭒ part 1 !

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ find all parts here! ˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ contains: 18+, swearing .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ a/n: its kind of a filler.. ............. comment if you wanna be added to the tag list x

The shred of relief you felt after Miami was only due to the 2 week gap between races, time to focus more and time to maybe, slightly get on with things. Lando Norris had occupied your mind for far too long but no matter how many times you rerouted your thoughts, It wasn’t helping. You were still furious, you just couldn’t afford to be, it was interfering with everything you did now. An obsession, an annoying, tugging, nagging thing in the back of your brain. It wasn't supposed to be like this, you've been impeded before and gotten readily over it, why was time different. It had you hung on it and you hated it.

Since Miami there had been countless articles covering the crash and both you and Lando’s reaction to it. Most were fine, others were less so, but thanks to the work being done by your PR officer who told you exactly what to say when posed with any kind of question regarding the “incident” in Miami. Most unpleasant experiences were completely uninteresting and not warranting any article worthy statements. Proof of Mercedes PR managing skills as you watched Lewis laugh to himself when you spoke through gritted teeth how the crash wasn't “anyone's fault”.

Lewis was amazing, you couldn't have asked for a better teammate. Always calm, always kind and always supportive. He was the first to comfort you after Miami and the first to compliment your driving rather than your "composure". Sadly you couldn't spend every moment with Lewis and when he got some world champion privileges, like picking and choosing his media days, you did not. Which meant on Thursday when it was told to you who would be in press together you nearly had an aneurysm because it would just be you and the 2 McLaren members. Of course, of fucking course. Where was Lewis, anywhere but here. You wished you could’ve gone with him. Maybe when you have a few world championships under your belt Toto will let you skip out on media duties.

༊*·˚ SPANISH GRAND PRIX 2022

Spain definitely wasn’t cold the first day you arrived on track, briefing with the engineers and teams before being escorted to press. You spoke with Daniel before going in, you know he has it hard with McLaren, they treat him like shit and it’s starting to show, you laughed a bit before you felt Danny go stiff and you knew who must’ve arrived.

“Hey mate” Lando pulls Danny in for a kind of high five, handshake thing. Weird.

You're still just standing there.

“Oh hey Dylan, I didn’t know we were doing press together”

You smile weakly and nod, you know he's lying. Danny gives you a sympathetic look.

“Sorry if they ask me a bunch of questions about my win, i know it might be a bit annoying for you” he was half joking, but it still made you fucking mad.

He was so cocky you fucking hated it.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll have lots to say, it is quite a momentous thing anyway, first win in formula one and it only took crashing into me."

He snorts at that and Danny gives you a knowing look.

Lando walks towards you some more and goes to open his mouth before Danny steps between you two.

“Yeah alright, alright, lets just calm down okay”

Always the mediator. You were silently grateful as you were suddenly ushered into the press conference glaring at the back of Lando’s head and sitting down between the 2 drivers. You wished you were anyway but here as you looked out at the boppings heads of journalists and the prying eyes.

“My question is for dylan”

Your head perked up, initially zoned out. You nod at the journalist for them to continue.

“How confident are you feeling about Spain after Miami?”

Good this was good, remaining fairly neutral. Thank you.

“Yeah, I mean, in Miami the car was insane, but I did find myself struggling just in regards to wear on the tires and grip with the street circuit a bit more, but the team is expecting great things from the car this weekend, so yeah. Fairly confident.” you nod and move the microphone away from your face to signal that you’d finished.

The conversation flows on and you suddenly feel a hand on the back of your neck, quickly glancing next to you. You’re met with a smug Lando Norris who happens to have his arms spread out over the couch. You scoot slightly away from him and see the smirk that follows as you express your dis-comfort. You shoot him a look, which he responds to by moving closer to you and again touching the back of your neck. As his cold hands touch the skin at the back of your neck you subconsciously take a deep breath in. Was he this fucking stupid, what was the media gonna say about this shit. You couldn’t move away again it would seem unnatural, but the way his touch felt on you was wrong, you tried to not let it affect you. Not let him affect you, but it was, you try thinking about anything else, but all you can feel is his hands on your neck. He’s taunting you, playing you. His hand remains there until the end of the press conference to which you promptly flee from. So promptly in fact you have Danny chasing after you to check if you’re alright, you insist that you are and then pose the idea of dinner with him and Heidi soon, you guys hadn’t caught up in a while. He smiles at this and gives you a pat on the back before walking back to the McLaren garage as you walk to the Mercedes garage.

On Friday There's a few team meetings before you get ready to hop into the car, the activity you had been anxiously anticipating since Miami. Hopping into the car going into practice 1 is reminiscent, it had only been two weeks but you’d missed it. Pulling out of the pit lane ready to hear the car once more.

Practice 1 was less than satisfying, a meagre P8. However practice 2 was much more fun, as it always is, needing a little bit of warming up to things you clocked a P2. Getting out of the car for the day smiling was something that even your engineer was shocked about. Everyone had been shocked with your performance but you’d never been outwardly impressed with yourself. Maybe now it was just a reminder that the man who took your win was struggling significantly more with his McLaren than you were with your Mercedes. He got under your skin, now it was your turn to get under his.

Saturday rolled around and you had a pep in your step, you had a good feeling. The car felt great and you loved the track too. You hadn’t gone around spain too much but you’d reserved a few days to look around that weren't going for runs with your trainer. You said hi to Lewis in the morning as you sat down with the team, debriefing on yesterday’s results and car performance, Lewis had a small problem with his brakes yesterday that the mechanics said they had fixed, you raised the problem of a small oversteer but how it was not too much of an effect to your driving yesterday. You hopped into the car feeling settled and your engineer who you'd had a talk to before had advised you to “push even more”. So you did, you pushed the whole time and in doing so, pulled the car into P3, honourable but down a place since FP2.

Sat in your drivers room, legs-crossed sitting, a ritual for qualifying, calm before the storm. You are interrupted with 2 short knocks, you thought it might be holly (your physio) so you get up and don't hesitate to open the door. You roll your eyes at the smirking fucking face you see, you close the door almost immediately to which he only opens it again.

“Rude” he says.

“Fuck off”

“Just wanted to wish you good luck” his voice is high and taunting.

You glare at him, you’d been doing better than him all season he’s the one who needs “good luck”.

“I should be saying that to you, considering your results in practice”

He throws his head back and laughs, acting as though you've wounded him.

you walk towards him, hoping that with the movement he’ll edge towards the exit, but he stays put, looking at you.

You tense your jaw and walk past him, opening the door, gesturing for him to leave.

“Good luck”

He walks out with a grin on his face. What the fuck did he get from riling you up like this?

Holly, your physio finally arrives and you greet her with relief as you get prepped for qualifying. Holly was both friend and doctor as you knew her and she was always there to listen when you had drama to talk about, this specific one relating to a certain boy wearing orange who couldn’t seem to stop annoying you. She laughed at the gestures you made and stayed to talk as the PR officer came to talk to you about the Post-quali interviews and while you put on your fireproofs, telling you about her most recent life events. As you climbed into the car, still mouthing the words of the last song that played in your eyes, you wished you weren’t thinking of one thing: him. You begin your lap with a blank mind, pushing and pushing and pushing the car and the thoughts out of your mind of anything. Especially him. Its gruelling going into Q3 but you do it and your engineer is giving you points on where to push.

“That's P4 Dylan”

“Thank you” you say out of breath.

“Thank you”

“Great job”

You leave the track that night with a sense of satisfaction, not once thinking of him as you drive to your hotel.

tag list:

@eviethetheatrefreak, @fairiesdowntheroad, @landosgirlxoxo,@hiraethrhapsody, @hockeyboysarehot

#source: cafekitsune #f1 #f1 fic #lando norris #f1 x reader #f1 x you #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fic #lando norris series #lando norris enemies to lovers #lando norris rivals #lando norris x you #lando norris angst

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mrwavellswaps · 1 year

Text

The Principal’s Solution

When Mr Everett was called into the principal’s office to have a one on one meeting, this was the last thing he’d been expecting. “You’re firing me!?”

“David that’s not what I’m—” Principal Bryant was cut off before he could finish.

“What is it? Budget cuts? Because I sure as hell know I haven’t done anything to warrant this? I’ve worked for this school for years! I’ve never even had so much as a sick day!” David rambled on justifiably. After all he couldn’t see a single reason why they wouldn’t want him working as an English teacher here anymore.

Finally however, the Principal put an end to David’s ranting. “Mr Everett! Listen to me! You are not fired! If you had let me finish I was going to say that you’ll be relieved of your current position so that you may take a new one.”

David was a little confused upon hearing this. “What… like a promotion?” He asked, prompting him to wonder if Mrs Freeman, the current head of the English department, had finally decided to retire after spending an eternity here.

“Sort of. Though it’s probably not what you’re imagining right now.” Principal Bryant sighed. “Look. As you know we’ve been low on gym teachers at the school for a while now and with Mr Riggs leaving at the end of next week we’ll be done to only one proper gym teacher. That’s why I’ve decided to move you from the English department over to the Gym department.”

“W-what??” This hadn’t been what David was expecting at all. Moving from English to teach Gym instead? “But sir I’m not a Gym teacher. I teach English! I can’t just switch!”

“Oh come on, of course you can. The English department has plenty of teachers and trainee’s already. I’m sure it’ll do just fine without you.”

David squinted over at Principal Bryant, not believing that his superior couldn’t see the very clear issue with this suggestion. “What?! No, I mean that I have absolutely no idea how to teach a gym class! Hell, I haven't picked up a ball since I was a student. How the hell do you expect me to teach a whole class??” He complained and rightly so. From his point of view this decision seemed completely illogical. “Surely there’s someone else far better suited for this!”

Principal Bryant simply smiled across his desk with a strange glint in his eye that David couldn’t decipher. “Don’t worry Mr Everett. I already have a plan that’ll help you get perfectly settled in with your new position. Soon it’ll be like you never taught English at all.” He chuckled, confusing David en further yet also slightly peaking his interest. “As for the reason I chose you specifically… well you’ve already said it yourself. You’ve never once taken a sick day and you’re always on schedule, if not ahead of it. That’s the kind of dedication I’m looking for in the Gym department.”

Before David had the chance to question his boss any further, Principal Bryant jumped up from his desk with a look on his face that was hard to describe. He seemed excited as whipped open one of the desk draws and pulled out a laptop. The Principal flipped the laptop open and began tapping away, occasionally glancing up at David with an almost lustful smirk. It was a look David had grown all too familiar with over the years. He’d suspected for a long time now that Principal Bryant had a thing for him but he’d never spoken up about it in case he had the wrong impression. But the look he’d received just now, the glint of desire in his boss’ eyes as he glanced up at him, was unmistakable.

“Sir I-” David was cut off before he could speak.

“Ah here it is!” Bryant exclaimed before quickly spinning the laptop so that it faced the couch David was sitting on. “Now Mr Everett. I know you might have some doubts and concerns about this change but this training video I’ve put together should be more than enough to ease your worries. Now if you just sit back and relax for me, we can get started!” He said with a reassuring yet somewhat devious smile.

Once again David hardly had any time to protest before his boss clicked play on the video before moving out of the way. What he was greeted with was a purple and gold hypnotic spiral spinning at a swift pace. Going round and round in fashion so captivating that David couldn’t bring himself to look away. The spiral was just so alluring, so gorgeous to look at that the rest of the world around him just seemed to fall away. He didn’t even take notice of the Principal sitting back at his desk to watch what was about to unfold firsthand.

After about 3 minutes or so a voice began speaking to David through the video…

*Welcome to your one way trip from being a regular ol’ English teacher to becoming a strong and confident Gym teacher that your students and colleagues alike can look up to! My name is Mr Wavell and I’ll be guiding you through this experience.*

The masculine voice spoke with a warm soothing tone which helped to relax David even further, readying his body and mind for what was to come.

*Now let’s get started shall we David? Of course, being an English teacher, you should already know that having the right education and qualifications for the job is essential for becoming a teacher in any area. So let’s get that sorted shall we?*

David didn’t even flinch at how this video seemed to be addressing him directly. He simply continued to focus on the voice as the spiral continued to swirl in a 3D like manner. As if it were reaching out to him and pushing inside his brain.

*Of course we’ve gotta make some room for all these new memories and experiences so…*

It would’ve been impossible to describe what exactly he was feeling right now. It was like something reaching deep into his mind and sifting through his memories until it found what it was looking for. David’s mouth hung open a little as any memories he had of learning English at an advanced level past high school and training to become and English teacher were yanked right out of his head, setting his knowledge of the subject back to a much more basic level.

*Annnnd now to replace them with the proper ones.*

One cue David could feel his mind being stuffed with new memories. Ones where he’d taken basic and later advanced classes in subjects like sports studies and physical education until eventually becoming certified to teach to Gym. Even though these memories were seemingly fabricated, they felt so incredibly real that David found it hard to tell the difference.

*Good! We’re already on the right track it seems. Now all that advanced English mumbo jumbo is gone, you’re already well on your way to becoming a great Gym teacher. But of course what good is all your new knowledge on teaching sports and physical health if you’re not practicing what you teach? Let’s change that shall we?*

More and more memories to push their way inside David’s brain. Forced out were his memories of reading in his spare time and going to book conventions, replaced by memories of him going to a football club and running around a field with a bunch of other dudes throwing a ball back and forth while tackling each other to the ground. He could’ve sworn he’d never been that keen on sports and yet he looked back on memories of kicking a soccer ball around with some mates in his free time very fondly. Suddenly he could recall having played tons of different sporting activities and having loved all of them! He would even watch sports on the TV late in the evening all the time. He couldn’t imagine why he thought for even a second that he didn’t like sports. It was his entire life!

Principal Bryan watched on in astonishment from behind his desk as these mental changes also began to take a rather physical effect on David as well. David had of course always been a rather average guy physically. Having very little muscle on his frame and a small belly. However that soon began to change as any fat on his body started melting away after countless hours of playing sports. In its place some lean muscle began to grow, giving him a physique that reflected great physical health and allowing the suit David was wearing to fit his body in a much more flattering way. Upon witnessing this little transformation, the Principal couldn’t help rubbing his bulge underneath the desk. Completely enthralled by what the video was doing to David.

*Good, good. You’re already looking more and more like a man who’s ready to coach a bunch of jocks. But surely a man like you spends a lot of his time working out in the gym as well right? Lifting weights, Drinking protein shakes. You must’ve put on some noticeable muscle from all that.*

David nodded along to everything he was hearing as he started to remember spending a fair bit of his free time at the gym so he could pump up his muscles, once again causing a ripple effect in the real world. His suit began to feel tighter by the second as his muscles grew even bigger, stretching the fabric of his button down and khaki pants. Biceps threatening to tear his sleeves, almost as much as his pecs threatened to pop the top buttons on his shirt. Thighs thickening into trunks of muscle while his ass swelled up until his pants looked as though they were painted on. Seeing this, the principal had already unzipped his own pants and was jerking over his employee’s transformation.

*That’s it… Looking like a proper example of physical health already. But let’s add a dash of extra manliness to the body of yours shall we? After all, as a coach you’ve also got to serve as a pillar of masculinity at the school for everyone to look up to.*

A shiver traveled across David’s entire body as the next change took place. The small amount of body hair he had before increased as the hair on his arms and legs multiplied. Spreading up across his stomach and chest until he had a thick pelt of manly hair covering his body. However this change was largely unseen by the two men, besides a little chest hair poking out of David’s collar, due to his suit. Though it was impossible to miss David’s sudden growth of facial hair right after, his short beard growing thicker than before! Principal Bryant had always thought David would look hotter with a beard and damn was he right. However there was one last change that the Principal only noticed when David started shifting uncomfortably in his chair a little. His bulge was growing bigger. David was trying to adjust himself because his cock and balls were growing fatter!

*Now how about you show off some of those new improvements to your boss? Take off that tight button down you’re wearing David. I just know a man like you must hate wearing suits anyway.*

“Yeah… I hate suits…” David muttered to himself before practically ripping his shirt open, popping a few of the buttons in the process. The Principal’s eyes bulged at the mere sight of it, getting to see David’s hairy muscular pecs on full display now. “What do you think sir?” He asked his boss in a very monotone yet noticeably deeper voice followed up by him flexing and bouncing his pecs a little.

Bryant hadn’t realised just how personalised this video had been made. He knew that Mr Wavell guy was good but he didn’t realise he was this good. “Y-yes Mr Everett. You look great! Better than great even. You’re so hairy and… just wow. You look even hotter than before!” He was lost for words. Hardly being able to believe the hairy stud before him was the same man he’d watched from afar ever since hiring him. He couldn’t stop jerking his cock under the desk like a perv, leaking pre-cum while David flexed his arms a little to show off his biceps and hairy pits.

*I have no doubt Mr Bryant is enjoying the show right now but we’ve still got a few more things to do David. Next we’ve got to fix those clothes of yours. After all, what kind of Gym teacher wears brown loafers and suit pants?*

David nodded along, agreeing with everything the voice was telling him as his clothes began to change. The aforementioned loafers were first to be affected. They rippled slightly as the colour began to change, lightening from brown to slightly dirty white as the fabric started to alter. Laces formed on the top while the soles of the shoes became more padded. Before long David adorned a fresh pair white sneakers while his long black socks shrunk away into worn white ankle socks.

During this Principal Bryant leaned over his desk a little to get a better look at what was going on. He would’ve been more surprised at sudden change in footwear had he not just witnessed David bulk up in front of his very eyes mere moments ago. Instead Bryant watched on in curiosity as even David himself looked down to watch as his black suit pants were about to undergo a change of their own.

The belt had already evaporated into thin air while the cotton fabric of the pants was amidst transitioning into polyester. The colour began lightening significantly while the pants legs retracted, showing off more of David’s hairy calves by the second. Soon enough they’d shortened all the way up above his knees, showing off a good portion of David’s strong manly legs, while having gone from being black to light grey. Finally leaving the man with a suitable pair of shorts for his new job.

Bryant figured that must’ve been it until he noticed the discarded button down shirt wriggling a little. Sewing itself together, retracting the sleeves completely and altering its colour like everything else until all that was left was a blue tank top.

*There we go! Now you really look the part. I’d say you’re pretty much ready for your position now! All that’s left is make sure your loyalty to this job also translates to your boss Mr Bryant.*

The Principal was surprised to hear that. He hadn’t asked Mr Wavell to add this part but he couldn’t say he didn’t like the sound of it! Meanwhile David was sat having more orders and memories pushed into his mind. Orders to always do exactly as Principal Bryant asks no matter what. To serve him loyally as both an employee and a boyfriend. To be either as submissive or dominant as Bryant wanted him to be. In turn, memories then also began surfacing of David having dated the Principal for over a year now with the two even living together.

*Perfect. Now nobody will bat an eye when they see the two of you together in public. And with that I think your training to become the perfect Gym teacher for this school is complete! Bigger, manlier, more confident and completely subservient to your boss and now partner. I’d say my work here is done wouldn’t you?*

David once again simply nodded along with everything the voice told him, completely entranced.

*Now, this video is going to end momentarily and when it does you’ll believe you’ve always been the way you are now. A hairy sports loving gym coach. And you’re going to love every second of it. Thank you for listening and I hope Mr Bryant back there is pleased with the progress we’ve made today.*

With that the spiral faded and the video finished. David blinked a few times in confusion, glancing around the office and down at himself, trying to recall why exactly he was here again. “Sir… why did you call me in here again? And why am I shirtless?” He wondered, reaching for the discarded tank top.

“Leave it off.” Bryant responded quickly and to his delight David didn’t even question the order. He simply tossed the tank top back on the couch beside him. “Now uhhhh… I called you to um… tell you how good of a job you’ve been doing recently! As one of our few gym teachers you really put the most into your lessons. It’s very inspiring.” He praised the shirtless hunk before him.

David smirked, getting up from the couch and taking a few steps closer to the desk. “Oh come on, you don’t need to butter me up. If you called me in here for some fun then you just say so.” He leaned over the desk, soon quirking an eyebrow as he noticed his boss jerking his cock under it. “Mmmm looks like you already started without me.”

Bryant’s face went bright red but David didn’t seem at all phased. If anything he seemed turned on judging by how he grabbed his crotch through his new gym shorts. God it was weird! David really did believe they were boyfriends now… and he should be completely subservient according to that video. “Haha yeah I just couldn’t help myself. You’re just such a hunk David. How about you uhhh… show me just how much of a hunk you are? Flex for me again and show me why exactly the two of us are together.” He suggested, testing the waters a little.

To the principal’s delight, David did exactly as he was told. He placed one hand on his hip before tossing the other arm up into a strong bicep flex, smirking cockily as he did. He extended his arm out a couple times before bringing it back in to really show how the muscle bulged and peaked. After which he proceeded to do the same with his other arm. Flexing the bulging muscle for his boyfriend without a care in the world. And once he’d finished with his arms he moved down to his chest, grabbing at his hairy pecs a little before bouncing them as well. Showing just how large and meaty they were. He even turned around and did a double bicep pose to really show off the muscle in his back as well. But the part that really made Principal Bryant drool was when David stuck his tongue out while pulling down the back of his shorts to reveal not only his furry ass but also the fact that his underwear had also morphed into a jockstrap! “This is all for you daddy. It might be my body but you own it.” David stated.

“Well in that case, why don’t you get over here so I can smell those sweaty pits of yours.” Bryant found himself growing more confident with his commands and once again David obeyed without question. Walking around his boss’ desk and kneeling down slightly before raising up one of his arms to reveal one of his hairy pits. The principal wasted no time, shoving his nose deep into that armpit before inhaling generously. The scent was strong and musky due to the sweat David had produced during his transformation. Pungent even. But Bryant fucking loved it! He’d been dreaming of sniffing David’s pits for ages and now that he had the chance they smelt even manlier than ever before! He pulled out of one pit before ordering David to show him the other one. The scent of them being just so intoxicating. And to think he’d be able to smell these pits whenever he wanted from now on! “Fuck those smell good… you’ll need to let me sniff them again when we get home later.” He pulled away from musky pits only to give David’s pecs a quick grope, loving how soft the hairy muscle could be when relaxed.

“Of course sir. My smelly pits are yours to sniff whenever you please. I’ll even jog home later to make myself even sweatier instead of driving back with you if you’d prefer that.” David suggested while Bryant ran his tongue along one of the hairy pits, tasting the delicious sweat.

“Now that’s an incredible idea. I want you to be as sweaty as possible.” Bryant confirmed with a devilish grin. “But right now I want you to get down on your knees and suck my cock.” He continued, now fully confident in the power he held over David while gesturing down at the hard, leaking cock that was sticking out of his suit pants.

David looked down at the cock and then back up at his boss. “Anything for you sir.” He smiled seductively as he lowered himself to his knees. Soon finding himself knelt between Bryant’s legs and facing a pulsing cock that was ready to be worshiped. David didn’t waste any time, licking up and down the shaft before eventually wrapping his lips around the shaft, glancing up at Bryant with his deep masculine eyes as he took over half of it down his throat right away. Hardly even gagging when Bryant grabbed the back of head and pushed it down even further. Simply sucking on the rather thick cock as best he could, occasionally pulling off with an audible pop before jerking it for a while until he was ready to go back down on it again. It wasn’t long before the new gym teacher was deep throating the principal’s cock as if it were made out of candy, his bearded chin periodically tapping against Bryant’s nuts.

“Fuuuuck you’re such a good cock sucker…” Principal Bryant grunted in satisfaction. “But I don’t wanna cum just yet.” He added before grabbing David’s head again pulling him off the cock, precum drooling from his mouth. “Now I want you to show me just how much of a slut you are by pulling down those shorts, bending over my desk, and presenting that hairy ass to me.” He commanded with nothing but pure desire in his eyes.

David did just that, standing up and pulling down his shorts, briefly showing off the tent in his jockstrap created by his erection, before bending over the desk in front of his boss, displaying his thick hairy ass in all its glory to the other man. “How’s this sir? Like what you see?” He teased, waving his ass back and forth seductively.

Bryant didn’t even respond. His mouth went dry as his cock pulsed unbelievably hard. He almost couldn’t believe this was happening. And yet when he reached a hand out, the manly ass it rested on was most certainly real. He ran both hands across the two globes in wonder before pulling them apart slightly to get a look at David’s hole. Bryant found his face being drawn to it, slowly inching closer until he couldn’t help himself any more, stuffing his face between two hairy cheeks while internally thanking Mr Wavell for making this a reality.

The new gym teacher chuckled as his boyfriend and boss enjoyed his hole, eating it out eagerly. His enlarged cock bucking inside the jockstrap pouch under the desk as he felt Bryant’s tongue exploring inside his ass, tasting it with a seemingly insatiable hunger. David could tell the principal was really starting to get into now by the way he was smacking David’s furry ass cheeks.

Despite how much he was enjoying eating his new gym teacher boyfriend's ass, Bryant couldn’t ignore the calls of his dick any longer. After getting one last lick in, he stood up straight and looked down at the man bent over his desk with glee. This had been his dream ever since he first saw David and now he got to experience it with an upgraded version of the man. He rubbed his wet cock against the prepped hole, teasing the entrance with his tip.

Bryant looked around his office, checking that the door was locked and all the blinds were closed before grinning, knowing just how soundproof the room was. “Now. I’m gonna shove my cock up your ass and when I do you'll start moaning like cock hungry slut. Begging me to fuck like a submissive bottom who needs filling.” He instructed with a sinister smile.

“Yes sirrrOoooOOHHH FUUUUU-” David moaned out loudly in his deepened voice, hardly getting a chance to finish his response before getting speared by Bryant’s hungry dick. The principal didn’t go easy on him either, stuffing almost his entire length inside at once. “Fuck yeah sir!! Give me all that cock!” He shouted in response while Bryant started to pump in and out slowly. “Ohhh yeah I need it so badly! Keep going!” He begged.

Hearing a guy as manly as David was now begging to get his hairy hole fucked had always been one of David’s biggest fantasies and it definitely showed. He wanted to go slow but the more David moaned the more he couldn’t help picking up the pace. Slamming his cock in deeper, harder and faster with every thrust only to be met with even more slutty moans from the new gym teacher. “Yeah? You like that bitch? Mmmm fuck! Take my dick!” He responded while grabbing onto David’s hips firmly, allowing him to go balls deep with every thrust much to the other man’s delight.

“Mmmmmm yess sirrrr ooohhhhhhh yesss! Please… fill me with you load! I need it inside me!” David groaned in ecstasy as his prostate was slammed into over and over, causing his own cock to dribble excessively, dampening his jock. “Fuuuck! I need your cum so badly!” He squeezed his hole around Bryant’s member as best he could, enticing his boss to spill his load inside.

Fortunately for David, thanks to how horny Bryant was, it seemed he’d be getting his wish sooner rather than later. The principal kept up a strong, fast pace for a good while but finally the pleasure was starting to spike. His balls starting the churn as they prepared themselves. “Oh god…” He grunted, thrusts suddenly becoming less rhythmic. “Nrghh-fuck! I’m gonna… FUUUUUCCKKK!” Bryant roared as his cock exploded with one of the biggest loads he’d ever shot. Draining his balls completely inside the big manly ass before him.

“Yesssss! Give it all to me sir!” David moaned like the submissive slut that he was right now, simultaneously blowing his own load. Completely drenching his jockstrap as thick globs of cum forced their way through the fabric before dripping heavily onto the carpet below.

The two panted heavily for a moment after such an experience. Taking in everything that had just happened. David winced slightly as he felt Bryant slowly pulling his cock back until it flopped out, wet with cum and saliva. Bryant stood up straight again and looked down, admiring what he had before him. It really was a miracle.

“Alright, stand up properly for me David.” The Principal ordered and of course his slutty gym teacher boyfriend did exactly that. “Now turn around for me so I can get a good look at the mess you’ve made…” he smirked, licking his lips as he saw David’s cum covered pouch. He knelt down until he was eye level with the jockstrap before wrapping his mouth around the bulge. David’s cum tasted just as good as he’d hoped. Deliciously salty as he licked and sucked on the bulge. “Damn these balls of yours really know how to produce some amazing cum…” he complimented.

“Thank you sir…” David panted, still a little worn out. Yet he couldn’t stop a grunt from escaping his lips as Bryant squeezed his balls playfully.

With that Principal Bryant jumped back up onto his feet with a content smile on his face. As he did he grabbed the grey shorts that hung around David’s ankles and yanked them all the way back up over David’s crotch and ass. “There you go. Now I want you to go about the rest of your day with my load in your ass. Just imagine that my cum is fuel that keeps you going.” He smirked before giving David’s hairy bubble butt a hefty smack.

“Of course sir! I won’t spill a drop!” David claimed boldly before glancing over at the clock. “Well it looks like lunch is almost over. Guess I’d better start getting ready for my next class. I’ve got some students today that are just as eager about football as I am hahaha!” He chuckled.

“Well you’d better head off then Coach Everett. Wouldn’t want to keep the students waiting now would you?” Bryant smirked while stuffing his cock away in his suit pants again.

“Absolutely not!” David began making his way towards the door, grabbing his tank top and slipping it on over his head. “Well I’ll see you tonight babe after my sweaty jog home.”

“Can’t wait. And maybe tonight I’ll let you be the dominant one instead…”

David unlocked the door and pulled it open. “I like the sound of that.” And with that David took his leave, heading for the gym teacher offices as if he’d always worked down there. Not a single memory of ever being an English teacher left.

Now alone, the Principal found himself punching the air in excitement. This was better than anything he could’ve ever asked for! He’d have to thank Mr Wavell if he ever saw him again because he really went above and beyond. He couldn’t help but wonder what other sexual fantasies he could play out with David in the near future…

———

Little did Bryant know that Wavell had been present the whole time being the pervy warlock he was. Having watched everything that went down from the transformation to the sex. He had a fair reason of wanting to see if the experimental magic infused video he’d given to Bryant worked properly. “Seems everything went smoothly this time. Complete override of specific aspects of the subjects reality. Intensity of transformation magic perfectly balanced. Subject didn’t accidentally turn into a massive muscle giant hardly capable of moving nor is he aware of his former life. Seems like I’ve found the correct formula for these transformation videos.” Wavell muttered to himself…

#magic #male hypno #male transformation #male muscle growth #musclegrowth #permanent #hairy #smelly #mr wavell #beard #male hypnosis #mental change #teacher #coach #boss

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