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woso-dreamzzz · 24 days

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Injured X

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Jenni Hermoso x Child!Reader

Summary: You go back to ballet

Alexia doesn't know whether to be proud or horrified.

You've not even been out of the hospital for three days before she receives a text from Jenni saying that you're going back to ballet - by your own accord.

Alexia has been invited too and she fusses in front of the mirror, tugging at her outfit as she stares.

There's an extra training session tonight, taking penalties, and while Alexia would usually attend, she finds herself staring in her mirror as she contemplates putting her hair up or leaving it loose.

Olga leans by the door, Jaume on her hip. "You are seeing Bambi," She chides," Not going to a business meeting. A suit is not needed."

Alexia tugs at her blazer sleeve. Her slacks aren't buttoned up quite yet and her shirt isn't as crisp as it could be. "Are you sure?"

"Comfortable, Ale," Olga says," A t-shirt and some trackies. Jeans if you must but it's just a ballet class. You're not meeting investors. Change."

Alexia huffs but does as she's told, swapping her slacks for some Barcelona-issued tracksuit bottoms along with her white button-down for a plain t-shirt. Her blazer is taken from her in favour of a lightweight jacket and she's pushed out of the door in her trainers before she can contemplate other shoe options.

She's early for your ballet practice and she can hear you before you and Jenni even turn the corner.

You're talking animatedly to her, your little hand tight in hers as she looks down at you. Jenni's smiling at you, a big beaming smile that falls like a lance through Alexia's chest as she watches Jenni hang off your every word.

You stop in front of her, eyes wide as you shuffle a little closer like you're wary of her. "Hi, Mami."

Alexia smiles. "Hi, Bambi."

You very slowly shuffle even closer, looking like you're going to bolt back to the safety Jenni offers you before your little arms are wrapped around Alexia's legs in a hug.

Alexia's hand very gently runs through your unbound hair as you peer up at her with those same wide eyes.

"Come on, Bambi," Jenni calls and you immediately scamper back to her side," You've still got to change your shoes and gets your hair done. Inside, come on."

Jenni holds the door open for you and you hurry in, finding a place at a bench already crammed with parents and children as you begin to pull off your shoes.

"How is she?" Alexia asks.

"Sleepy," Jenni answers," Still a little emotional. She cried when I told her she should take another day off from ballet so here we are." She rummages around in the bag on her back. "Bambi, feet please."

You place one foot on Jenni's bent knee as she slips on your ballet flat before swapping to do the other. "When I'm eleven or twelve," You tell Mami," I can wear fancy pointe shoes and go up to tippy-toe!"

"Only if you keep practising," Jenni reminds you as she moves around the back to scrape your hair into a bun. Her hand skims your upper back and you flinch and Jenni notices instantly, freezing her movements until you fully relax again.

She doesn't touch your back again as she makes sure all of your hair is tied back in a bun.

"Alright," She says and you twist around to face her, turning your back on Mami as Ma-Jenni cups your face," What's the most important thing?"

"Having fun."

"That's right. Have fun. Turn on your listening ears and try your hardest."

You nod.

"And if you feel sleepy or tired you tell the teacher right away and they'll come and get me, understand?"

"Yes."

"Alright."

The door to the studio opens as students come out and your group goes in. You move with the crowd before stopping and turning around again.

You run back to Jenni, giving her a big hug before being released. You make an aborted movement to go again but stop yourself. In a few light steps, you're standing in front of Alexia.

"I'm going in now, Mami," You say," Bye-bye."

"I'm not going anywhere, Bambi," Alexia says," I'll be right here with Jenni when you come out."

You frown, head tilted to the side in confusion. "Why? Today's always penalty practice. You always go to penalty practice."

"Well, today, I'm at ballet practice. I'm staying here."

You look up at her, trying to puzzle out if she's lying to you and Alexia takes the chance to very carefully pull you into a hug. You're tense and rigid for a moment before you're fully relaxed against her, bringing your own arms up for a hug of your own.

You pull away and Alexia lets you, even though she desperately wants to keep you with her. So, she settles on walking you to the door.

Jenni's there too, talking with your teacher.

"-Just out of hospital. She might be a little woozy today or tired. I'm just outside if she needs a break or something."

You slip into the studio and get lost in the crowd of other kids as Alexia takes a seat on the bench with Jenni and the other parents. It's a little awkward.

Jenni knows everyone, greeting people casually and answering their small talk while Alexia awkwardly sits there.

Usually, she uses the time you're in ballet to run a few errands before going into an extra training session. Usually, she'd already be in the car and gone, picking up the dry cleaning from the fancy place down the street or getting the groceries done even though she could get them delivered.

It's odd to be sitting here.

Sitting here with her ex, staring through the glass walls to watch your session.

It's clear to Alexia that some of these kids are just here to have fun. They're here because their parents signed them up for this. But not you.

Even now, at such a young age, Alexia can recognise her laser focus in you, from the way you very slightly change your positioning or how you're always staring at your teacher, not letting your eyes stray through the windows to where you know Alexia and Jenni are sitting.

Your only focus is on your ballet and Alexia can imagine a grown up version of you in her head, with a proper outfit and pointe shoes and hair in a bun you've done yourself. She can imagine you on a stage with a full orchestra accompanying your dancing.

Alexia blinks and that image of you is gone.

It's just the you now and the way a tiny sliver of your tongue sticks out as you shift your foot further outwards.

"She's so talented," One of the other mothers says to Jenni, who beams.

The praise goes straight to Jenni's chest like this woman has personally complimented her. Your talent is obvious even at this age and Jenni knows under the right guidance, you're going to be great.

Her heart swells with pride as she watches you.

Your teacher has to adjust everyone's positioning but not yours.

You're a little prodigy and Jenni's so proud of you.

You're still a little tired, still have a sore throat from the tube that had been stuck down it but you're powering through it. Jenni would have preferred you staying home with her but you had been adamant.

You've gotten that from Alexia.

Jenni's never seen that level of focus on anyone who wasn't a Putellas. She's even seen it on Alba on occasion. Putellas girls grab what they want and they don't let it go.

Jenni sneaks a glance at Alexia, whose eyes haven't strayed from your dancing.

She knows that if Alexia wants to keep you, if Alexia doesn't want to let Jenni raise you then she won't get you - even if she's the right choice. Even if Jenni puts everything into raising you, if Alexia wants to keep you then Jenni will never get you.

Even if Jenni begs and begs, Putellas girls don't let go of what they want.

If Alexia decides that she can give you a better life, if she clings and clings and clings then you'll never be in Jenni's arms again and she doesn't know if she can cope with that.

Her only hope is that Eli can talk sense into Alexia, that Eli can see that Jenni is the best choice for you, the best choice to support and shape you into who you're going to be as an adult.

They sit in silence for most of your session, only exchanging a few words before you're released to them.

You're panting from exertion and you look so drained. You raise your hands up when you get close to them and Alexia's the quickest one.

She picks you up and settles you on her hip with ease. It's been a long time since you've been so comfortable with that. You're not completely comfortable just yet but you relax more and more until you're like you used to be.

Jenni trails after the two of you.

"How was dance, Bambi?" She asks and you peak over Alexia's shoulder to beam at her.

"Good! Fun!"

"That's excellent!" Jenni says," Do your feet hurt?"

You give her a cheeky smile and nod. "Mama gives me foot massages when they hurt!" You say to Mami.

"That's-" Alexia gets cut off by a loud, familiar voice from across the street.

"No way!" The voice says," Is that my favourite ballerina? It looks like it is!"

"Mapi!" You kick a little bit for Alexia to put you down and she begins to lower you to the ground but Jenni plucks you straight from her.

Alexia's in a little bit of awe at the way Jenni so easily swaps your ballet pumps for your trainers with one hand. She does it so easily and so naturally that it leaves Alexia wondering if she'd practised this or if it came automatically.

Once your outside shoes are on, Jenni releases you.

Thankfully, Mapi (and Ingrid) have already crossed the street so you can get to them without getting hit by a car.

"Hi, Mapi!" You chirp as Mapi reaches around to untie your hair from its bun, leaving it to fall loose down your back.

"What?" Ingrid chuckles," No hi for me?"

You suddenly turn shy, rubbing the tip of your shoe in the ground as you refuse to make eye contact, cheeks going bright red. "Hi, Ingrid." You shuffle into her arms and Jenni laughs, patting Mapi on the back.

"Better watch out," Jenni says," Or Bambi might steal your girlfriend."

Mapi rolls her eyes. "Only if she's into women years older than her."

"Well, by the looks of her crush, she might."

Jenni's clearly teasing but it still sends a bolt of lightning down Alexia's spine. She can't imagine you finding a partner one day. She can't imagine what you would look for in a partner.

Someone your age, Alexia reckons. Maybe someone you met through ballet. Maybe someone that has no association with football. Probably someone from Barcelona.

She's not really sure she can imagine you with someone. She can imagine you on stage. She can imagine you dancing professionally. She can't imagine you dating anyone.

She can't imagine you dating someone and moving away. She can't imagine you moving away as an adult. She can't imagine you moving away now.

She knows that if she lets you go with Jenni then you're going to Mexico. She knows that you're leaving Spain.

Alexia also knows that she's a Putellas. She knows that a Putellas doesn't just roll over and take the punches. She knows that if she wants something (if she wants to keep you with her) then she'll have to hold it tightly and not let it go (let you go) no matter what someone else thinks or says.

You're a Putellas too.

You're not a Hermoso - at least not legally.

You have Alexia's hyper focus. You have Alexia's genes too.

That has to count for something.

You came from Alexia. You grew in Alexia's womb. Alexia endured hours of labour to have you.

That has to count for something, right?

Right?

Blood rushes through Alexia's ears as she looks down at you, at how shy you still look while you stare at Ingrid, the tips of your ears turning pink just like Alexia's do when she's feeling shy.

Jenni's time in Spain is running out every day but for everything of herself she can see in you, Alexia can still aspects of Jenni in you. From the way you giggle and the way you smile and the way you hug.

Everything that used to be Alexia, is slowly changing into Jenni and you seem none the wiser.

"Bambi," Alexia calls and you turn to look at her.

You seem a little confused at being spoken to so suddenly but you're still smiling. It doesn't dim in the slightest.

"We goin' home now, Mami?"

Jenni freezes, whatever she's been saying to Mapi stops in her throat. You haven't called Alexia's house 'home' since Jenni's been with you. You've only called Alba's place 'home'.

Jenni doesn't know what that means. She doesn't know if you mean Alexia's place or Alba's. She doesn't know if you know which one you mean either.

She hates that stupid smug look on Alexia's face.

A look that Alexia doesn't even know she's wearing. She beams from ear to ear at your words. She wants desperately to say yes, to bring you back into the little family that you're a firm part of, to bring you back home to your room full of trains.

But she keeps herself calm.

She knows that she can't just sweep you away like that.

She needs to remain calm.

"Not right now, Bambi," She says," Listen me and Jenni need to go and see your Abuela. Do you want to spend the rest of your day with Mapi and Ingrid?"

You look at Ingrid, cheeks still bright red as you nod. "Yes, please, Mami."

Jenni takes the reins after that, giving Mapi orders on how to look after you and how in an hour or so you have your midday nap and to make sure that you have somewhere soft and warm to rest your head. She lays off orders that even Alexia hasn't thought of like how you should have a glass of water with a hint of lemon because it always wakes you up after naptime and how they shouldn't touch you because you're a light sleeper and you really need the rest after your hospital stay.

You curl into Jenni's arms as she says goodbye to you. You go all limp and boneless and somewhere along the way, your little fist latches on the front of Alexia's shirt, pulling her into the hug too. Just like it was in the Before.

With Mapi rolling her eyes and Ingrid promising to take the best care of you, Alexia and Jenni are at Eli's house within the hour.

Alba is there too, an ever-present figure of disapproval as she leans against the doorframe. Everyone already knows Alba's vote on this matter.

Her position has never swayed and Alexia can't look her in the eyes.

Alba wants her sister out of your life. Permanently if she could help it but at least as your main caregiver if she couldn't get permanently.

She has never been swayed. She has never thought any different. She doesn't care if she has to fly to Mexico to see you. She doesn't care if you never step foot in Spain again.

Alba thinks that's a better alternative than having you with Alexia.

Jenni's position is clear too. She won't say it out loud but everyone knows her position. She wants you. She wants you like she needs air to breathe. She wants you with every cell in her body and she doesn't think Alexia and Olga's home is right for you. It's alright for you but it's not perfect and Jenni thinks she can make you the perfect home.

Alexia's vote is cast in her own favour too. She's acknowledged what she's done. She's fixing it. She's changing how she lives her life so it can be better suited to you and your schedule. She's proving to everyone that she can still be a mother to you. She's showing that she loves you just as much as she loves Jaume. She's making a family for herself, a family that you deserve to be a part of.

But everyone knows where the decision truly lies.

It lies with the woman sitting at the head of the table.

She is not a Putellas. She does not cling to what she wants and refuses to let it go.

Eli is a Segura. She looks at both sides. She weighs up have-beens and could-bes and makes her decisions on that. If she thinks something would do better out of her grip then she will let it go. She will let it thrive and grow away from her even if it means never seeing it again.

She looks at her daughter and then to the woman that could have been her daughter-in-law.

The debates had been going back and forth for hours now, words bouncing off the walls of her house as she sat there.

Alexia made her case.

Jennie made her case.

Alba threw in her own opinions.

Then, Eli spoke.

She spoke for a long while and everyone hung on her every word.

"I cannot force you to do what you do not want to, Ale," Eli says at the end," She is your daughter. You have all the rights to her. Her future is in your hands right now-"

"Mama!" Alba cuts in," You can't be serious?! We all know what Alexia will choose! You cannot let her do this!"

"I cannot force your sister to do anything," Eli says," She is an adult and she holds all of Bambi's rights. None of us can force her to do anything." Her eyes flick back to her eldest. "But think about this carefully, Alexia. Do not make this decision with your heart. Make it with your head. Do what is best for Bambi."

Eli's words come back to Alexia a few days later at the park.

You and Jenni have met her, Olga and Jaume there.

Jaume is now strong enough to hold his own head up and crawl around, exploring the world with his hands and mouth.

He sits on the grass with Olga settled on the picnic blanket. He's crawling around, playing on the slight incline and Olga lets him, keeping half an eye on him and the other on her book.

You and Jenni are in the playground, playing on the slide. You're getting stronger and stronger every day. Your throat and voice are no longer scratchy and you've been given the all-clear from the doctor.

You're holding the new train that Jenni got you to celebrate getting out of the hospital. The usual train store has closed down now but Jenni managed to find another one. It ended up just you and her. You weren't sure that you wanted Mami to come with you. You turn your head a little to look at her.

Alexia sits on a bench, equal distance away from both you and Jaume, able to swivel her head around to see both of you.

Jaume tries to stick a flower in his mouth that Olga promptly confiscates.

You erupt into a fit of giggles as Jenni tickles your tummy.

Jaume tugs his shoes off.

You duck under the climbing frame.

Jaume babbles and claps.

You shriek with laughter when Jenni catches up to you.

Then the bubble bursts and all of the convincing Alexia has done to herself bursts. Every time she tells herself that she can make this work. Every time she tells herself that the decision she has made is the right one.

It's all ruined now.

Jaume tumbles down the incline. It's not a far fall for an adult but it's enough to shock a scream and tears from him. Olga's by his side instantly.

You fall off the slide. You land as a little heap on the ground and it's not a far fall either but you still cry as Jenni picks you up.

Both of you are hysterical, sobbing your eyes out and looking close to a breakdown.

"Ale!"

"Alexia!"

Alexia stands.

She looks between both situations and emotions she's never felt before surge through her system.

Jaume, her little football player.

You, her little ballerina.

Alexia must have glanced between you both countless time in the two seconds it takes her to react.

Her feet move on their own accord, carrying her towards one of her children.

The decision she previously made has changed. Alexia knows that nothing will be the same anymore.

The decision, this time, is permanent.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #jenni hermoso x reader #jenni hermoso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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solarmorrigan · 1 year

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See, just because Steve lets Eddie and the kids play D&D at his house now doesn't mean he's really interested in the game, just the same as even though El and Max sometimes tag along, they're really there to hang out, not play. They each bring their own things to do, and one night El brings a ball of yarn and a shiny little metal hook and a vaguely rectangular yarn-thing that she focuses very hard on while the boys shout in the background.

Steve has no idea what she's doing; he'd say she's knitting, except he's almost certain that involves some kind of sticks, not a hook. But since he's not really doing anything himself, he sits down next to her and asks what she's up to.

"Joyce has been teaching me how to crochet. She says it will help with my hand-eye coordination." El holds up her project with a proud smile. "I am starting with a scarf."

It's not the world's most attractive scarf, but it's not like Steve could do better. He's still not entirely sure what crocheting is, to be perfectly honest. "Is that different from knitting?" he asks.

El nods gravely. "It is," she says, and takes to showing him how she loops the yarn over the hook and pulls it through the stitches in her scarf and adds a few more inches to the row she's working on.

When Steve's attention doesn't completely wane during her demonstration, she pulls a second ball of yarn out of her bag and presents it to Steve.

"Oh, I don't–" Steve tries to demur, but El is determined, and Steve has seen entire dimensions pale in the face of her determination.

This is how he finds himself crocheting a little chain of stitches with just his fingers, the same way Joyce had apparently started El off. El beams at him and returns to her own project, occasionally checking on his progress. The chain is a few feet long by the time everyone needs to be driven home, and Steve decides it actually hadn't been a bad way to pass the time. Kind of relaxing.

The next time everyone is over, El sits down with her scarf, and after a short while, Steve sits down next to her. He compliments how much longer the scarf has gotten (and it does seem like the shape has evened out a bit as she's been going along). She smiles and pulls another ball of yarn out of her bag. This time, she has an extra hook and seems intent on showing Steve what to do with it.

Almost involuntarily, Steve's attention flashes to the group clustered around the table, hesitating to take the yarn from El, and she frowns.

"Joyce says these types of skills are important for everyone to have," El says firmly, and, well– Steve's not really going to argue.

He learns how to crochet a chain with the hook. It feels odd in his hands at first—the shape too small, the metal a little too slick, the yarn not wrapping naturally around his fingers the way it does El's—but he gets the hang of it. When El is pleased with his progress, she shows him the stitch she's been using: a simple single crochet. It's tougher than it looks, and Steve understands immediately why El's scarf is so uneven; neither of them have ever done anything like this before.

Still, he doesn't hate it.

In fact, he really kind of enjoys it.

He enjoys it enough that he asks El to show him more the next time she's over. She's still new herself and is really only working with pretty much the same couple of stitches, but she proudly teaches him what she knows, and Steve picks it up as fast as she's able to lay it down.

Steve goes out and buys his own supplies, no longer content with mooching off of El's. He hadn't realized there were so many different kinds of yarn, and resigns himself to awkwardly asking one of the craft store employees what type might be best for beginners.

The employee—a woman about his mother’s age with a much warmer smile and far less judgement in her eyes—explains with great enthusiasm what all those different types of yarn might be used for, and how the size of the hook affects the outcome of the project, and shows him so many different pattern books his head spins. He realizes that she probably upsells him on a lot of shit, but he leaves with a few different sizes of hooks, some new yarn, and more excitement for a hobby than he's felt probably since high school.

El and Robin are the only ones who know about his new hobby, of course. It's not really that he's ashamed to tell the others, he just knows how teenage boys work and he's not keen on giving a bunch of fifteen-year-olds another reason to bully him. Maybe in a few months. In the meantime, he crochets at home while he's listening to the radio or watching TV, and he crochets at work during down times. Robin finds his newfound hobby morbidly fascinating, but vehemently denies any and all offers to teach her.

("I will find a way to damage myself with that hook and I think we both know that," she says. "It's just kind of wild to see you with a grandma hobby."

Steve threatens to tell El she called it that, and Robin shortly finds a new label for it.)

Fall rolls around and the air acquires a chill sometime in mid-October. Steve's been making practice scarves for a little while now (largely because he really only knows how to make rectangles at this point, but he doesn’t have the attention span for a whole blanket just yet), and he even considers wearing his least heinous attempt despite the fact he's never really wanted for good winter clothes. Then he notices Eddie.

Most of their little group has begun dressing appropriately for the weather, but Eddie doesn't do much more than add a pair of fingerless black gloves and maybe a heavier leather jacket to his ensemble. Steve's not even sure it's because he can't afford it – he's pretty sure it's because Eddie is committed to his aesthetic. Nancy had tried to force an extra scarf on him one day after a little cold snap, when they'd woken to frost on the ground (the scarf is blue, patterned with white snowflakes; it's actually Mike’s, but Mike is also refusing to wear it and Steve suspects Nancy doesn’t want to hold it, but also doesn’t want to get in trouble for letting Mike lose it), but Eddie had declined, insisting it doesn't match his vibe.

Steve can respect this. He himself has a certain aesthetic going on. However, he can also see that Eddie is definitely cold, and that just won't do.

He picks through the scarves and other various wooly things he's accumulated so far, but decides none of them would suit Eddie and, besides that, none of them are really warm enough. If he's going to make Eddie a scarf, it ought to be a good one.

So Steve sucks it up and heads into Melvald's one day when he knows Joyce will be on shift, hoping she won't be too busy for a quick chat.

When he catches her, Steve explains that El had shown him the basics of crocheting but that his ambitions have outgrown his skills and maybe if she isn't too busy sometime, Joyce would be willing to show him a little more?

Joyce, because she’s a saint, says she would be delighted, and invites Steve to come over on their next shared day off.

When he gets there, she tries to ask him who he's making the scarf for, and the best he manages is, "...someone."

Joyce bites down on a smile. "Someone?"

"It's a surprise," Steve finally declares.

"For everyone?"

"Yes."

Joyce bravely manages to not laugh at Steve and instead asks him what kind of scarf he thinks Someone would like.

Steve decides that it needs to be thick, but it should also be soft. It should also be textured, because Ed– because Someone really likes fiddling with things. He can't get too ambitious with colors or patterns, but he decides that black and grey stripes will be perfectly suitable.

(He doesn't kid himself into thinking that by the time their brainstorming session is over, Joyce hasn't figured out exactly who he's talking about, but she's kind enough not to say it out loud.)

Steve's always been good with repetition and patterns—it's probably one of the reasons he’d found crocheting so relaxing in the first place—and he picks up the new stitches with ease under Joyce's deft instruction. She sends him home with the practice piece he'd made with some of her scrap yarn, and after a quick stopover at the craft store on his way home (he briefly gets stuck between shades of grey, but eventually decides on the silvery one over the steely one), he's ready to begin.

He expects making the scarf to be tougher, but once he gets into the rhythm of it, he sails right through. It takes him less than a week (albeit devoting a few solid hours to it every day, possibly more on his days off) to end up with what is, if he may say so himself, a pretty fine scarf.

The challenge comes in actually giving it to Eddie.

Christmas would be an excellent excuse for presenting it to him, except that's a little over a month away, and Steve doesn't want Eddie to go cold until then. Instead, he takes to keeping the scarf in his glove compartment just in case the perfect occasion for giving Eddie a scarf arises.

And much to Steve's surprise, one actually does.

It's right after the first real snow, and Steve has insisted on driving to pick Eddie up so they can hang out (Steve has nightmares about Eddie's driving when road conditions are optimal, never mind when the roads may be icy). He can see Eddie shivering under his jacket, blowing warm air into his cupped hands (Steve wonders if he could learn how to crochet gloves at some point, too. Ones with full fingers), so he ever-so-casually gestures to the glove box and tells Eddie, "Hey, if you're cold, I've got an extra scarf in there."

He's possibly not as casual as he hopes he is (or maybe Eddie just sees through him, like he always seems to), because Eddie gives him a look. "You do, huh?"

"Yep."

Steve concentrates very hard on the road in order to avoid Eddie's eyes. It doesn't stop him from hearing the little laugh Eddie lets out before popping open the glove compartment.

"Oh," Eddie says quietly as he pulls the scarf out, likely having been expecting another castoff piece of outerwear. "This is... actually really nice."

For a moment, Steve can't help but glance over to see the way Eddie is fingering the crocheted ridges of the scarf, running a thumb over the bright silver stripes picked out of the black, and he immediately looks back up at the road.

"Yeah. You should– you can, uh. Keep it. If you want," he says, and wonders what happened to the days when he was smooth.

"No, man, this is, like, for real nice. I couldn't take this," Eddie says, though he's still holding the scarf in his lap.

Steve draws a breath in. "I mean, I was kind of hoping you would, since it's for you."

"Seriously?"

They have unfortunately arrived at Steve's house at this point, and there will be no avoiding the conversation now.

"Yeah," Steve says. "I, uh. Made it for you. So you should take it. Don't let my hard work go to waste, yeah?"

"You're shitting me," Eddie unfolds the scarf and holds it up in delighted scrutiny. "You made this?"

(Distantly, Steve appreciates that the emphasis isn't on "you made this?" Like Eddie doesn't immediately doubt he's capable, only that he's holding a handmade item at all.)

"Yeah. No big deal." Steve shrugs.

"You made this for me." Eddie looks at Steve, and it sounds like that had been meant as a question, though it comes out in flat uncertainty.

"Yeah. Just noticed you were cold, but you won't wear anything that doesn't match your aesthetic," Steve tries to tease, wiggling his fingers at Eddie's outfit, but Eddie doesn't say anything in return.

He doesn't say anything for just long enough that Steve gets insecure all over again, reaching hesitantly for the scarf.

"But, I mean, if that's weird, or whatever, you don't have to-"

"Nope. Fuck off, I'm wearing this forever." Eddie loops the scarf quickly around his neck and squeezes the ends in his hands. "Jesus, this is soft."

Steve grins. "I'm not sure it'll last forever, but I can make you another after than one wears out."

"You'd better," Eddie says, and he's grinning too. "So, what, you knit?"

Steve points a very serious finger into Eddie's face. "Crochet. There's a difference," he says sternly.

Then, because he can't help it, he bops the end of Eddie's nose before getting out of the car, leaving Eddie to scramble out behind him, laughing and calling him a dork as he goes.

(The kids, incidentally, don't tease Steve nearly as much as he'd thought they would when they find out.

This is possibly because they're more mature than he gave them credit for, but more likely it’s because El is standing beside him and daring them to say anything unfavorable about their shared hobby.

Mostly they just let it slide, though Dustin demands to know why Eddie got a scarf and he didn't. Then Lucas wants one, too, because Mike and Max have already received various bits of outerwear from El, and he's not about to be left out. And then Robin, of course, will want to know why Steve hasn’t made her anything, once she finds out that he’s making things for the kids.

Steve resigns himself to a busy winter spent under a pile of yarn.

It's not really a hardship.)

[Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue | Ao3]

#steve & eleven #steddie #steve harrington #el hopper #eddie munson #stranger things #wanted something wintery before christmas hit #I'm sorry if something about the yarny aspect of this is wrong or awkward #I haven't crocheted in years let me live #solar wrote #eddiesteve

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luvhughes43 · 6 months

Text

is it over now? | jack hughes

part two of the beginning

au masterlist⭐️

note: i switched to first person pov for this story just to test it out. Inbox me if you’d want to go back to 3rd person.

warnings: pregnancy, birth

word count: 4.7k

the doctors waiting room is cold and uninviting. i stare up at all the pregnancy posters that litter the walls, and soon my gaze falls to all the mothers and all the fathers. they all sit, talking quietly amongst themselves. the women are gorgeously radiant, and if this were any other time i’d compare their beauty to mine.

instead, i linger on the way they interact with their husbands, boyfriends, whatever. small touches, whispers, and smiles all burn into my mind like a useless cd.

“y/n l/n?” a nurse in all blue interrupts my thoughts, she gestures for me to follow her and i do.

like the waiting room, the small room i’m brought into is cold. i wonder briefly what jacks doing right now. if he had gotten my message or if he’s still asleep. i try to imagine his reaction but i can’t bring myself to conjure up an accurate depiction of him. everything is off - and i fear if i keep trying to imagine this man who’s not my jack, that i’ll somehow forget the real one.

“we’re just going to do some tests, all very basic things. i need to know your medical history, and i’ll have to do a complete physical assessment,” a doctor walks into the room, clipboard in hand. she doesn’t look at me as she speaks, but I absentmindedly nod to her words anyway.

“Okay so, is this your first pregnancy?” the doctor asks.

“Yes” i nod.

“And, do you have any medical history I should be aware of? Past procedures, family history, etc” the doctor looks up from their notes and i pause.

“Uh, i -” my cell phone buzzes in my purse and i quickly reach for it. Its a notification from sephora, something about how there’s a last minute sale and that i should buy some overpriced body spray.

“I had my tonsils taken out when I was five, but other than that i’ve had no other procedures” my words come out shaky, as if i’m confused. i turn my phone over again, willing for another notification to pop up. It’s 11:40am, and jack is definitely awake by now.

the doctor calls a nurse in to prep for the examination. everythings a blur as i lean back. the nurse, short with reddish-blonde hair, has to ask me to lift up the bottom of my shirt twice.

“And if you look over here, this is where your baby is,” the doctor is confident in her speech as she shifts the little wand around my stomach.

the appointment was nightmarish.

the nurse sent me home with a little packet of information sheets, all different colours and all about different things. i don’t want to look at them, so i shove them into the bottom of my purse when i get out of the office.

⋆ ★

vivienne always made sure to wake up an hour before jack. she liked to make herself a fancy coffee with her espresso machine, and she liked to plan out her events for the day. she had decided that they’d go to the grocery store sometime before noon, hit the mall for an outfit to wear to dinner, and then of course dinner with viviennes friends at 7.

after her coffee, Vivienne tiptoed her way back into her bedroom. she was proud of the fact that Jack liked to stay here. she made sure her bedding was always fresh and clean when he was over, and she made sure to spray a little bit of her perfume on his pillows so he’d get used to falling asleep to the scent of her.

Vivienne grabbed a hold of Jack's phone on his nightstand, and slowly slid it off the side of the table and into the palm of her hand. she turned it over, bombarded with the amount of notifications that littered his phone screen. she slid up, quickly typing his passcode. she had to be mindful of her next moves. she didn’t have long to do her routine digging.

“It’s not really fair for you to be with vivienne if you still have feelings for y/n”

“will you drop it? you were the one who told me to go for viv”

“Jack-”

“No! Dawson, you were the one who begged me to move on. I am. What happened with me and y/n-"Jack cuts himself off. “what happened.. It’s done now. leave me alone”

Vivienne recalled the conversation she overheard a few weeks ago and she couldn’t shake it from her mind. So, she did what any girlfriend would do and searched the girls username on instagram.

She hadn’t thought y/n would be any type of problem in hers and Jack's relationship. That was until Jack and Vivienne were laying in bed, with Jack wanting to show Vivienne a picture he had taken a while ago on a roadie. He was scrolling past his photo albums when she saw it. The “it” being a photo album titled “❤️” filled with pictures of jack and y/n at art galleries and whatnot.

Ynuser: 1 dm request

Accept | Delete

Vivienne clicked onto the dm, and when she saw the words pregnant and yours her blood ran cold. She angled her body away from Jack, and with his reassuring snores clouding her mind, she reread the dm again.

Jack, I don't even know how to tell you this. It doesn’t feel right. But, I took a pregnancy test and it came back positive. I’ve booked an appointment with my obgyn for tomorrow and they’re going to confirm the test for me. You're the only person that I've been with since we’ve gotten together so it’s for sure yours. If you need a paternity test or anything at all just let me know and we can sort it out. Please reach out and we can talk about this in person. I’m sorry.

“Fuck” Vivienne cursed as she clicked Jacks phone off. She turned around and stared at the man in question while debating her options.

Letting Jack find the message on his own was the most obvious answer but… would he still want to be with her when he found out about the baby? If it even is his, Vivienne rolled her eyes at the thought.

The next logical option was to delete the message and block the girl. Jack would never have to know, and Vivienne would just have to be the perfect girlfriend for the next little while. She’d make him his favourite foods, dress extra hot, and do everything in her power to make sure he forgot about his ex.

Vivienne turned Jack's phone on again, and without a second thought, swiftly declined the message request before blocking the girl.

To make sure her tracks were completely cleared, she searched the girls name up in his contact list and blocked her there as well.

And, just as quickly as Vivienne had picked up her boyfriends phone, she had set it back down.

⋆ ★

After the appointment, I was stuck in meetings for the rest of the day with no opportunities to check my phone. During my appointed bathroom breaks, I was too anxious to check. My hands trembled as I hovered over the instagram app, too nervous to see if he had read the message.

I thought about the next message that I would send all day. Would I send the doctors confirmation? My next appointment date? The reason why I found out about the pregnancy so late?

When I got out from work, I decided to walk the 45 minutes home instead of taking the Subway. I hoped that the semi-fresh air would clear my mind.

By the time I unlocked the front door of my apartment, it was 6:45pm. Jack would have gotten out of practice, and he would probably be at home grilling himself a piece of chicken while his rice cooked.

I pull my boots off and wander into my bathroom. i shut the door behind me, giving myself some privacy from my own space. When I close my eyes, all the memories of Jack and I flicker through my mind like one of those plastic children's cameras.

I take a deep breath, before finally pulling my phone out of my pocket and turning it on. I click into instagram and my stomach drops.

jackhughes

No posts yet

User not found

what the fuck was i going to do.

⋆ ★

“Claudia!” my voice was hoarse from crying as I pounded on my best friend's door with my fists. I had run all the way to Claudia's apartment, and luckily someone was walking into her apartment complex so I didn't have to buzz in.

Claudia's door swung open, and she immediately pulled me inside and into her arms. “What's wrong?” she practically cooed, not a stranger to my breakdowns.

“J-jack he-” I couldn't stomach the rest.

“Babe, slow down… breathe..” Claudia stressed as she started doing breathing exercises for me to copy. I followed her movements, and when I was deemed calm enough she moved me over to sit on her couch.

I take a few minutes to recover before explaining what happened.

“I’m going to kill him” Claudia sneered after I had explained the pregnancy, the message, and how my ex boyfriend-turned-baby daddy had blocked me.

“What am I going to do?” I was crying again. I was bordering on exhaustion as I leaned my head against the back of Claudia's couch and wailed.

My hand found its place at the top of my stomach, where the faintest baby bump had begun to form.

⋆ ★

vivienne just added to their story!

vivienne

liked by jackhughes, trevorzegras, alixearle, and others

vivienne mr nhl man

View all comments

user01 VIVIENNE HAS A BF??

user02 viv baby who is it

user04 vivnation lost

user05 jack and trevor liking ohhh wow…

user06 is it jack?

user07 i thought jack has a gf?

user06 he was seen out with a girl a few times months ago but that was it lol

user08 the nhl girlies lost

⋆ ★

ynuser

liked by claudia, and others

ynuser my baby🤍

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claudia im a proud honorary aunt❤️

user00 congrats!!

user01 Congratulations on your pregnancy sweetie! We have to get together sometime soon😘❤️

⋆ ★

the pregnancy was lonely. It was all long hours at work, quiet doctor appointments, and late nights binge sessions watching gossip girl with whatever craving plagued my mind.

I tried my hardest to stay away from social media, my heart cracking a little more every time jack came across my feed with his rumoured new girlfriend. of course, i knew it wasn’t a rumour, which just made everything more miserable.

“Do you want to know the gender?” the ultrasound tech asked as she shielded the sonogram screen away from my view.

I nod, “yes, please”

Claudia squeezes my hand. “Are you sure? I can throw you a gender reveal party if you want? Or we can do something with just the two of us?”

I didn’t want to hurt Claudias feelings, but it wouldn’t be the same without jack.

I must have took too long to answer though, because the ultrasound tech looked at me with pity filled eyes as she said, “i’ll put the gender info in an envelope for you to take home”

All i could do was nod.

⋆ ★

“Im sorry, blair.. But you lost the baby”

“where’s chuck?”

“B, he lost a lot of blood, and he never woke up”

Gossip girl season 5 played in the background as I picked at my newest pregnancy craving, strawberry cupcakes from a bakery off seventh ave.

i sighed heavily as i continued watching the show. this has got to be the saddest episode… i thought as blair started praying for chucks survival. As the scene went on, tears pricked my own eyes as i thought about the past five months.

i was almost done with my 2nd trimester, and i was still refusing to acknowledge my pregnancy. I felt as if i were walking through water, i was restricted in all of my movements and my mind was cloudy like i had just spent all day in the michigan summer sun.

The episode finished, with blair telling chuck that she loved him but that she couldn’t be with him and that she couldnt tell him why.

When the screen turned black and i was faced with my reflection, i started sobbing.

Heavy tears rolled down my cheeks and fell onto my duvet, which turned the cream coloured blanket into spots of grey.

Without thinking, I rolled out of bed and threw on a thick sweater that I found strewn against a chair backing. I wandered out into my entryway, shoving on a pair of my mini uggs as I searched high and low for that stupid little envelope that my tech gave me.

It was in my purse, hidden behind a hundred other little things. Once the envelope was grasped firmly in my hands, i ripped open my door and rushed down onto the street.

I didn’t have a lot of time to think this through. If i placed the order now, everything would be okay and fine...

Truth be told, i was afraid that if i didn’t order a gender reveal cupcake that i would be doing my baby a disservice. I promised to myself that i would be able to do this without jacks support, and yet here i was crumbling under the pressure of motherhood.

The bakery shop chimed with my arrival, and then i was in the small line up to make an order.

“Hey, what can i get for you tod-”

“Can i get a gender reveal cupcake? Or one of those little cakes?” i ask, thrusting my envelope into the guy at the registers hands.

He looked taken aback before responding very politely, “i’m sorry, you’re going to have to make an order online”

“Oh,” my shoulders sag in disappointment. I hadn't thought far enough ahead.

the guy stared at the crumpled up envelope in his hand, and then back at me. “Why don’t you go sit down and i’ll figure something out for you,” his voice was kind as he noticed my dishevelled state.

I nod, and then move to an empty seat in the corner of the bakery. Another employee was sweeping the floors, and i realize that the store must be due to close soon. I need to pull myself together…

About ten minutes later, the guy from before walked over with a little white box in his hand. On top of the box sat my envelope which was now cleanly cut into.

“It’s not the prettiest thing in the world,” the guy chuckled as he placed the small box in front of me, “but it should work”

“Thank you,” i stutter, pulling a crisp $10 bill out of my pocket and handing it over to the guy.

At first he shakes his head in an attempt to decline the money, but I insist he takes it anyway.

back at home, i get comfy at my kitchen table where i finally open up my box. It was a vanilla cupcake with white vanilla frosting.

I take a deep breath before taking a small bite, and when i swallow, i see the remaining pink icing that filled the inside of the cupcake.

“we’re having a little girl,” i whispered, tears sliding down my cheeks as i rub my bump soothingly.

⋆ ★

Jack Hughes was stuck. He felt bad for Vivienne and he felt bad for himself. It wasn’t Viviennes fault that his attention was elsewhere because on paper, Vivienne Aiden was probably who most would consider his perfect match.

Vivienne was gorgeous, she had an online career going for her, and her apartment did smell amazing… but something just wasn’t right.

When she fell asleep beside him, Jack would pull out his phone and scroll through his photo album full of pictures of his ex-girlfriend. He would wonder what she was doing, what new journalist piece she was working on, and most importantly, if she was happy. He couldn’t bear searching her up online, for fear of seeing she had moved on (which, let's be honest, is very hypocritical of him), so Jack settled with his photo album.

When Jack finally closed his eyes for the night, he imagined the sleeping figure next to him was his y/n. Vanilla scent was swapped with coconut, a windy spring turned into an endless summer, and the lingering emptiness felt like coming home after a long roadie.

And in the morning, when y/ns lovely green eyes woke him up, he would blink to find Vivienne staring back at him, and whatever relief he had accustomed himself with in sleep came crashing down again.

⋆ ★

ynuser posted on their story!

jackhughes posted on their story!

Vivienne posted on their story!

⋆ ★

Vivienne wasn’t an idiot. she could feel the small shifts in Jack's behaviour. He was slowly distancing himself from her and she wouldn't allow that to happen.

Therefore, she sent him a teasing photo, planned a romantic dinner at her apartment, and took care of business.

Create an Account

User: user257483475

ynuser

Dm Request

User257483475: how does it feel knowing that you’re going to be a single mom?

User257483475: must be tough knowing that the daddy doesn’t want it

User257483475: if i were you i wouldn’t even try

Read

⋆ ★

“I can’t believe you're having a little girl!” Claudia squealed as she met me at the front of a baby store. I was now 6 months along, and I hadn’t done any of the necessary baby shopping yet.

We walked into the store, light pinks and blues and purples clouding my vision. “I can't believe it either! A little girl…” I smile, picking up a little onesie.

Claudia gets a basket, and we start to make our way through the store. “Have you thought of any names yet?” she asks as she holds up what might've been the cutest baby dress i’ve ever seen.

I placed the dress in the basket. “I’ve been toying with a few names but it just feels strange” I pick up another little dress and put it in the basket as well. “I’m sure once I see the nursery all together it’ll feel a little more real and i’ll be able to pick something out”

Claudia smiles at me sympathetically before taking the shopping basket out of my hand and guiding me towards the furniture section.

“I was thinking-” my phone buzzes causing me to pause. I pull out my phone, only to see a few instagram notifications.

User257483475: viviennes so pretty, i bet you're real jealous huh?

User257483475: jack didn't even want to post you publicly and now he wont even acknowledge his baby… he never loved you.

User257483475: i wish you the worst xx

Read

“y/n? What were you thinking?” Claudia asks, immediately noticing my pause. She walks over to me, one hand on my shoulder as she tries to gauge my facial expressions. “Are you okay?”

I don't want to speak, and so I thrust my phone into Claudia's hands.

She gasps when she reads the first message from a few weeks ago, and I can feel her tense beside me as she lets her hand drop from my shoulder.

“What the fuck!” she seethes as she stares at all the messages littering my phone.

“How do they know the baby’s Jacks? How do they even know I'm pregnant? My account’s private!” I utter as I close my eyes.

“Who’s Vivienne?” Claudia asks as she switches out of my dms and onto the search page. I watch her type in Vivienne's name.

“She’s Jack’s girlfriend,” I reply just as Claudia presses on her instagram account. The newest picture on her feed was of her and Jack at some cafe… I felt nauseous.

“Well, she’s obviously the one sending the messages” my best friend states firmly. Great I thought. Could my life get any more fucked up?

That night at home, I easily verifiy that it was Vivienne behind the account. For all the scheming she liked to do, she wasn’t very good at covering her tracks.

First, I used my laptop to try and log into her main instagram account. When I got the password wrong, I clicked the option for instagram to send a code for password resetting via email. The email, half unblurred, showed up on screen. Then, i moved onto the account who’s been sending me nasty messages. Repeated the process, and wouldn’t you know! Vivienne Aiden didn’t doesn’t know how to make a fake email for her fake account, that she uses to harass her boyfriend's ex! Nice.

With that little confirmation, I blocked both her and the account she’s using to send me messages.

⋆ ★

My baby’s nursery is painted a soft pink. Her crib is a beige wood, and there’s white flowy curtains with a blackout curtain set underneath. flower prints decorate the walls, and my baby’s name is highlighted on a beautiful homemade blanket which was gifted to me by one of my coworkers.

“Are you ready, baby?” my mom asks to which I nod. I watch her silently as her hands weave between different sets of baby clothes.

She’s helping me get the nursery finished for babygirls birth next month.

“I’m nervous, but i’m ready,” I smile, waddling over to the blush pink rocking chair that sits in the corner of the room.

⋆ ★

“i’m not ready! i need jack!” i cry, squeezing my eyes shut tight as pain overtook my body. i could hear the nurses faintly in the background of my own thoughts, shouting something about an excess of blood.

a group of nurses stand around me, all shouting different orders to one another. “ma’am you’re bleeding-“

“i need, i just need-“

a sweet looking nurse cut me off. “sweetie, you’re going to be alright. just breathe, i’ll be right here with you this whole time!” she grabs ahold of my hand to which i squeeze tightly.

the room spins and my whole body feels cold. I could tell that the nurses started going about their business from all the pinching and poking that was going on, but i couldn’t figure out where all the pain was coming from.

⋆ ★

“Mommy?” I whispered. My mom whipped her head in my direction upon my words.

“Oh sweetie,” she coos, tears lingering in her eyes as she sits on the edge of my hospital bed. she grabs ahold of my hand.

“Is…” I start to ask about my daughter but a cry falls from my lips.

My mom grabs my hand tighter and brushes my hair out of my face. “She’s in the NICU, but the nurses say she’s doing well”

“Can I see her?” my voice is hoarse. My mom jumps up from the bed and fills an empty paper cup with water. She passes the cup to me, and I gratefully drink its contents.

“I’ll go get a nurse, okay? She’ll tell you everything you need to know”

I had been asleep for roughly ten hours after my daughters birth. The doctor told me that the pain I woke up to last night was from blood clots, which is the reason behind all the blood and the premature birth. Luckily though, I was pretty close to full term, and I got to the hospital at the perfect time therefore babygirl would only have to stay at the NICU for a few short weeks to monitor her development.

“what’s her name, sweetheart?” my mom whispered softly to me while her hand ghosted across hairline.

“Leighton Rowe LN,” I replied sleepily as I stared at my baby in my arms. Leightons sweet face suddenly made all the pain worth it.

my mom brushed my damp hair out of my face. “that’s beautiful,” she cooed, and when she gestured towards the baby I tiredly nodded.

as my mom took my baby out of my arms to coddle, i let my eyes close and then i softly drifted off to sleep.

⋆ ★

It was a few months later when it happened. claudia was at my apartment, watching leighton while i ran around the city to get some much needed errands done. i stop at my favourite coffee shop, a place that i hadn’t been to since jack and i broke up.

i order my usual, a mocha to go, and when i turn to leave jack had just opened the door. I stumble back, not prepared to see jack in the flesh. He looks familiar and yet completely different.

“y/n,” he greets me, his tone uncertain as he takes a step towards me. How dare he.

“If your girlfriend sends me one more fucking text i swear i’ll ruin her life” i start, my words threatening as i let the weight of viviennes words fall onto my shoulders. for months shes been creating new accounts and messaging me, and despite hitting the "block all and future accounts" feature she still managed to harass me.

“I get that you don’t want to have a baby, but she’s here, and I'm capable of doing it without you. I have been doing it without you. So get your girlfriend to stop harassing me or i’ll press charges,” i spit out, pushing past a shell-shocked jack and storming out onto the street.

⋆ ★

“I have a baby!” jack shouts angrily, kicking one of vivienne's wooden dinning room chairs. “You hid my baby from me!”

Vivienne stares, glassy eyed as she watches her boyfriend stomp around her apartment. “Jack, i didn’t mean for it to go this far i-”

“You what? What was the plan here?” he shouts again, running a hand frustratingly through his hair. Jack stops, whipping around to face vivienne again. “Show me the messages.”

“What?” she cries.

“y/n said you were sending her messages. Show me them” jack repeats, causing vivienne to jump up in alarm. If he saw even half of the things she sent…

Jack storms up to vivienne who immediately pulls her phone out of her pocket. She switches onto one of her many burner accounts used to send y/n messages.

Jack sat on the couch, hunched over while he read through every single message. He felt sick.

he hates you

It must suck knowing that your child's dad doesn't want her

Jacks going to be the best daddy to our future baby… its too bad he didn’t want that for you.

“Jack we can fix this, i swear i’ll do better and-”

Jack stood up abruptly, letting viviennes phone tumble to the ground with a loud thud. “We’re- we’re past done. I don't even know what to say to you,” jack stutters, tears falling steadily down his cheeks.

“Baby, i’m so sorry” vivienne cries. she tries to reach out to jack, be he swats her hands away.

Jack backs away, and without another word he leaves viviennes apartment with the slam of a door. he had to make this right to y/n and his... baby.

part three

#journalist au!#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl fic

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astralnymphh · 2 months

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i always see breeding kink + strapping but what about breeding kink + tribbing? ellie getting her juices in there and shit, acting as if she’s filling you up. then she pumps your combination of slick back inside you with her fingers and admires the way your pussy looks, wet with her cum.

(im not responsible for anything i say do not hold me accountable for this)

𓆩✧𓆪⋅ omfg breeding + tribbing w ellie? SIGN ME UP!! seriously— at the first fleck of pellucid orgasm that weeps from the bottom of her pussyline, ellie vice grips your hips like her very soul depends on its filling of her palms to retain her sanity, and drags an intent stroke of her clit up your folds, whine–groans so raspy when she feels her arousal spurt onto your pussy, "ughh, that's a good fuckinnn' pus— fuck.. take my fuckin' cum, god." folds her chin in to gape downwards in pure lustful concentration as her gropey hand settles off your hips and brushes over to her sloppy cunt, sticky with wisps of cum. ellie— being ellie, of course, rams three paired fingers in the opening of her folds, pushing the fat lips of skin around to gather her release, being the utmost blessed noise to ever cross your ears— fuck. then on, her scooping digits drift down and clump up in a wet stack, fingertips skirting your labia before they insert and stretch your entrance around her thickset trio, shoving directly near the bottom of your vagina, all while her intent eyes observe the way you take her. that feeling alone: stuffed n' chock full of her knuckles pumping the textured swell of your g–spot in languid circles inside you, as to brew together her cum, to have your pussy absorb it, to impregnate you— makes a moaner out of you, "mhhh, els'— give me your baby, don't fuckin'— don't fucking stop." you yearned, obsessively bad for this thing you otherwise couldn't concieve of so easily, ellie knew how maddenly you wanted to give her one, "i know babe, ellie knows." she assures, tender as an angel, slipping her fingers out to marvel upon her work stringing from your wet hole, cracking a hum–giggle at the way your pussy glistens with her cum, how it sows on the inside. enamored infinitely with those horny visions of future–you swollen with the slick coating your pretty folds now, a praise tugs from her cheeky smile, "that's my girl, my good fuckin' girl. god," scoffed she, proud of what she has brought about, right here on your daisy–fresh sheets, "c'mere, mama." and curls her entire torso down, tackling your face in a splurge of puckered kisses all over your amused expression. ♡

during the whole tribbing, she for sure humps her clit straight up against your hole sometimes. scissors you open and herself, making the two make contact, can also feel the hot throb of her clit bumping so hungry for you. whoopsie doops this was kinda long ౨ৎ

DAILY CLICK . IMPORTANT TLOU POST . PALESTINE INFO

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milfsloverblog · 8 months

Note

Hii!! I have a Larissa x reader request. Larissa is in her late forties, has a shit ton of money (cause that woman screams money) and she's also a tad lonely, so she decides to find herself a sugar baby and that's where reader comes in, they are broke, almost finishing college and in need of quick money. I really just need this woman to pamper me with money and love and good sex, lots of mommy kink and out of the bedroom dominance pretty pleeeeeaaassseeee

Secret Benefits (NSFW)

Part 1. (Next part)

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

A/N: Anon, I loved this request so much I’ve decided to turn it into a multiple chapter fic. We’re mostly setting the scene in this chapter, but I added a tiny bit of smut. Thanks for the request, enjoy!! <3

You didn’t feel very proud as you clicked on the “sign up” button on the app your best friend told you about. You typed in your information - Name, age, height, weight, eye and hair colour. It did feel like you were only a product to be bought but it was what you were looking for, after all.

You filled in the “looking for” section - women, preferably. You didn’t care much about height or weight or anything like that, really, although you hoped you would be able to at least find someone attractive. But you couldn’t afford to be too picky.

It did feel like signing up for a normal dating app until you reached the “monthly income” criteria. This was by far the most important criterion, the one that had led you to this website, and yet you didn’t know what to answer. You stared at your phone screen for a moment before eventually typing in “Minimum $3500”. It felt like a correct amount, enough for someone to take care of themselves and you as well.

You uploaded a few pictures, a couple of selfies and one where your whole body was visible. You probably would have more chance of quickly finding someone if you uploaded a more revealing picture, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Not yet.

You took a deep breath and clicked on the button that would make your profile public, watching the message that popped up on your screen - Welcome to Secret Benefits, the number one sugar dating app in America.

Your profile had only been public for a few minutes when you received your first like and inbox message. A man saying he would pay you a thousand dollars a week and didn’t want anything in exchange, only to chat with you. Your friend had warned you about this kind of scam so you simply rolled your eyes and reported the profile.

Browsing through the app you quickly realised that most people on there were men over forty searching for a pretty thing to parade around with. You knew it was the whole point of this app and those kind of relationships, but still.

It felt like you had been scrolling for hours when a profile finally caught your eye. Larissa, 48. Her picture was what first caught your attention. The woman was half-turned from the camera, holding a glass of red wine in her hand. Her white hair was tied in an intricate updo, her lips painted with a crimson red that matched her nails and her blue eyes fixed on the camera as if she had caught the photographer in the act of taking her picture. It almost felt like she was looking right at you. She looked beautiful.

You clicked on her profile, hoping to learn more about the woman. You read her body description, eyes widening when you reached the height criteria and read that she was 6’3. She looked like the type of woman who enjoyed wearing heels and you felt dizzy at the thought of a two metres tall woman towering over you.

You noticed that she had picked “Unspecified” for the monthly income. You weren’t sure what that meant exactly. Was she wary about sharing her income? Strange, given the kind of app you were on. Or perhaps she was old money. She did look wealthy, the kind of woman who would have grown up in a rich family and inherited it all.

She had listed a few of her interests in her bio. Art, luxury fashion and haute couture, feminism. There was a single sentence written underneath, one that had your breath hitch in your throat.

“I call myself a hedonist, I seek utmost pleasure in everything I do.”

And that was enough to have you hooked. You didn’t care about the other thousands of profiles on the website anymore. You only cared about her. Larissa, her sapphire eyes and crimson lips, her hedonistic lifestyle and promise of utmost pleasure, and most importantly - her money.

You clicked on the little heart next to her profile picture, like your friend had told you to do. Now you were supposed to wait and see if the woman would like your profile in return. You could have sent a private message straight away, but your friend said it was better not to, it would make you look too desperate. I am desperate, you thought.

It was only hours later, when you were freshly out of the shower and about to get into bed, that your phone pinged and you quickly grabbed it to check the notification.

Larissa liked you back! The start of a beautiful story?

You stared at the notification for a minute, what were you supposed to do now that she had actually liked you back? You weren’t even expecting to get that far when you signed up.

You sat down in bed still wrapped in your towel and took a deep breath. How were you even supposed to engage in a conversation with a woman like her?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a while. Everything you could think of sounded lame and you even considered calling your friend for some advice but it would have just been embarrassing.

You: Hi there! I came across your profile and was very intrigued by your sophistication and the way you described yourself. How has your day been?

That wasn’t too bad. At least you hadn’t sent a cheesy pickup line.

The little “seen” quickly appeared under your message and you bit your lip in anticipation.

Larissa: Good evening! Thank you for reaching out. My day's been quite busy with work, but I'm always up for interesting conversations. How was yours?

Okay, she had answered. She had liked you back and she had answered. Great, it was great.

You: I'm glad you're taking the time to chat. My day's been mostly filled with classes and hanging out with my friends, a normal day in the life of a college student haha. What do you do for work?

Larissa: I’d rather keep my work private, at least for now. But I promise I’m not doing anything illegal! College student, what do you study?

Well, that was a bit strange, although you could see why someone wouldn’t want to share their work field on this kind of app, there was no doubt those arrangements could ruin some people’s lives.

You: Sure, no worries! I study marketing. It’s not always easy but I enjoy it for the most part. I’m really curious about what brings you to this app?

The message was read almost instantly but it took the woman a few minutes to answer. Was she hesitant? Searching for the right words?

Larissa: I appreciate your curiosity. I'm mostly looking for a mutually beneficial arrangement where we can both enjoy each other's company and experiences. What about you? What are you looking for on here?

A mutually beneficial arrangement, that was certainly one eloquent way to put it.

Larissa: I'm seeking someone who can support me as I navigate my studies. I live on my own and have a job on the side but it’s getting really hard to finance everything alone. Plus, I think having someone older in my life, someone with more experience, could only be beneficial. It’s all about benefits and enjoying the finer things, isn’t it?

Larissa: It is! I suppose it’s the main reason why so many young women are on this app. Tell me, what do you enjoy doing in your free time?

You: Well, I honestly don’t really get much free time. But I like to sit down with a nice book whenever I can. I enjoy going for walks and I could spend hours in the kitchen cooking and baking. What about you? Any favourite ways to unwind?

Larissa: I don’t get much free time either if I’m being honest. I’m a busy woman. I do enjoy sitting by the fireplace with a book and a glass of red, one of life’s simple pleasures. I love exploring art galleries, trying out new restaurants and I sometimes, although very rarely, indulge in spa retreats.

Spa retreats? These things cost a fortune! You were lucky if you could indulge yourself in a night out with your friends!

The two of you kept exchanging for a while. You learnt that Larissa was British, that she had moved over here for her studies. She loved travelling, had been to many places around Europe and was a big fan of French cuisine. She felt like the kind of woman you could listen to for hours without ever getting bored.

It was getting late, your eyes were practically closing themselves and you knew you would be absolutely exhausted in the morning, but you didn’t want the conversation to end.

You had been talking for nearly two hours when the woman asked if you had ever dined at Ambrosia, a restaurant way out of the centre of Jericho. You snorted loudly as you searched the restaurant on Google and realised it was a gastronomic one. Did she really think you could afford that kind of place?

You: No, I’ve never been there. But I’ve just googled it and it looks like a nice place!

Larissa: It’s my favourite restaurant in Jericho, I think I must have tried everything on the menu by now. Would you like to join me there for dinner, let’s say on Saturday night?

Saturday night? You quickly checked your schedule, you were working at the bar that day.

You: I would love to, I really would love to, but I’m working that day and I can’t miss a shift…

Larissa: If it’s about the money, you don’t need to worry. Call your work tomorrow, let them know they will need to find someone to fill in for you on Saturday.

You swallowed thickly. What if this was some joke? What if you showed up at the restaurant and she wasn’t there? You would miss your shift, and lose money for nothing. But if she did show up…

You: Fine, I’ll call in the morning. What time should we meet at the restaurant?

Larissa: 6.30 pm? If you give me your address I will have a car sent for you. However, I understand if you feel wary about giving that kind of information to a stranger.

You did feel more than wary about giving her your address. For all you knew it could be some creep hiding behind that profile. But if you didn’t take the leap, you might miss a great opportunity. So you did it, you sent Larissa your address and thanked her for wanting to send a car.

Larissa: Thank you, darling. The car will pick you up at 6. I should probably let you get to bed now, I wouldn’t want you to fall asleep during one of your classes. Thank you again for reaching out, it’s refreshing to connect with you.

You: Thank you, Larissa. Likewise, I enjoyed our conversation. See you on Saturday!

You closed the app and took a deep breath. You were insane, absolutely deranged. Who in their right mind would agree to something like this so quickly? You groaned and pulled the duvet over your head. You’d think about this later, all you wanted at that moment was to sleep.

Saturday couldn’t come quickly enough. Your friend had asked you if you’d had any luck on the app yet and you lied, telling her that no one seemed interested in you yet. Maybe you would tell her about your meeting with Rissa once it’d be done. Maybe.

You had exchanged a few more messages with Larissa the next day, just to keep in touch and let her know that you were looking forward to meeting her, and so was she.

The doorbell of your flat ringing woke you up early on Saturday morning. You quickly threw on some pyjamas and went to open, your eyebrows shooting up when the courier handed you a big cardboard box.

“What the hell?” You whispered to yourself as you placed the box down on your coffee table.

You grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer and carefully cut the tape, holding your breath as you opened the box. There was a small note on top of something wrapped in gold tissue paper.

I picked you an outfit for tonight, I had to guess your size using your pictures but I’m pretty certain it will fit. I suggest wearing a pair of black heels with it. See you tonight, darling.

-Larissa

You had to read the notes a few times to make sure you weren’t just making things up. She had picked you an outfit, really? Did she think you couldn’t dress up on your own? Well, to be fair you weren’t sure you had anything chic enough in your wardrobe, but still.

You carefully opened the tissue paper and your breath hitched as you unfolded the black slip dress that she had picked for you. The silk fabric felt incredibly soft under your fingertips and the lace trim on the neckline was beautiful.

“Simone Rocha.” You read the tag out loud. The name did ring a bell somewhere in your mind, was that a designer dress? Well, at least now you knew the woman was serious about taking you out for dinner tonight.

You were about to close the box when you noticed there was something else in there. You picked it up, eyes growing wide at the sight of a burgundy thong. It was beautiful. Made out of lace and embroidered with floral details, it probably cost more than your whole underwear drawer.

You bit your lip looking at the two items of clothing in your hands. Maybe you could get used to this lifestyle.

The car sent by Larissa arrived at your place at 6 pm sharp. You quickly put on your heels, fixed your lipstick, and took a last look at yourself in the mirror. The dress fitted you like a glove and you had rarely felt that beautiful in a piece of clothing, you looked expensive.

Hundreds of thoughts were rushing through your brain as you sat in the back of the car and absentmindedly looked outside the window.

And suddenly it hit you - would Larissa be expecting sex from you? Your eyes widened at the possibility. You had not talked about this. Sure, the woman had said she wanted someone to spend time with, but spending time with someone could mean a lot of things!

You were almost thinking about changing your mind and going home when the car pulled over and the driver let you know that you’d reached your destination. You took a look at the building outside and swallowed thickly. There was no going back now.

You thanked the driver and stepped outside, taking a deep breath of fresh air. You were halfway to the restaurant door when you heard your name being called, causing you to spin on your heels.

“Larissa?” You asked as your eyes landed on the woman walking towards you. She looked just like her picture - tall, elegant, beautiful.

“Yes!” She smiled and nodded.

Noticing that she looked you up and down, you allowed yourself to do the same. She was wearing an emerald fitted dress that perfectly hugged her waist and hips. Her legs had to be the longest you’d ever seen, they seemed to go on and on until you finally reached the silver heels that were on her feet.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You smiled back, feeling a bit awkward and not knowing what to say.

“Likewise.” Larissa answered and pulled the door open to let you in, her hand falling on the small of your back as she followed you inside.

Everything inside the restaurant reeked of wealth. The high ceiling, the polished wood floor and the leather seats. You were out of place and you felt like everyone around you knew it.

“Miss Weems, good evening!” A waiter flashed the woman a bright smile. “Your usual table?”

“Good evening, Adam. Yes please, the usual.” Larissa nodded and her hand on the small of your back gently pushed you, signalling for you to follow the waiter.

You sat down at the table and could immediately tell why it was Larissa’s favourite table. It was at the back of the restaurant, in a quieter space, and it had a perfect view of all the other tables.

The waiter brought the menu almost immediately and made a few suggestions as he poured two glasses of water. You could feel the older woman staring at you as you opened the menu and flipped through the pages. Everything was expensive, a whole three-course meal in this place would cost as much as your biweekly grocery budget. It was insane.

“Anything tempting you?” Larissa smirked, a strange glint in her eye.

“Um…Yes, yes there is a few things that sound really good.” You nodded and pushed an awkward smile.

“The dress suits you perfectly. You picked the perfect shoes to go with it.”

A blush crept up your cheeks hearing the compliments and you pushed out a shy “thank you”.

“Are you wearing everything that I picked?” Larissa asked, her head slightly tilting to the side.

Her eyes briefly dropped to your chest - no bra, that was the right choice for this kind of dress. Larissa was pleasantly surprised. She had purposefully chosen not to include a bra in the package but she wasn’t sure if you’d wear one of your own.

“Yes,” Your cheeks turned a deep red, not far from the colour of the thong you were wearing. “I’m wearing everything you picked. Thank you, by the way, I loved your selection.”

Larissa’s nostrils flared and she let out a satisfied hum, looking up when Adam reappeared by your table.

Larissa went first, there were far too many French words in her order for you to understand properly, but you enjoyed hearing her accent. It was like honey dripping from her lips. When you snapped out of your thoughts, the waiter was looking down at you expectantly. You opened your mouth to place your order only to be cut off by the tall woman’s voice.

“She will have the seared foie gras as an entrée, followed by the filet mignon - medium rare - with grilled asparagus, and the passion fruit mousse for dessert.” Larissa said, her sapphire eyes looking at you above the menu.

Your mouth dropped open. First, she had picked your whole outfit down to your panties, and now this. I want control, she had told you in one of her messages. You hadn’t really understood what it meant at that time, but you did now. You would never admit how turned on you were as you closed your menu and handed it back to the waiter who gave a polite nod and walked away from your table.

“You’re staring, darling.” Larissa pointed out, making you close your mouth and look away for a second.

“Sorry, I-“

“You weren’t expecting that?”

“Yeah…”

Larissa let out a soft chuckle and reached out, crimson nails taking hold of your chin to make you look at her.

“When we meet, if we meet again, I would like to be in charge of those things.” She simply said.

“In control, you mean?”

The woman’s nostrils flared again and she gave a small nod.

“Yes, in control. I do enjoy knowing you’re wearing something that I picked for you, that you will be tasting what I want you to taste.”

There was something almost erotic in the way she said it, something that sent a shiver down your spine and had your eyes dropping to the woman’s lips, watching them curve in a smirk.

“I wanted to ask-“ You mustered the courage to say. “If you would be expecting…more than just my company.”

“Sex?” The word sinfully rolled from her tongue.

“Yes.” You let out in a whisper.

“Would you like to have sex with me?”

Maybe.

“No.” It instinctively slipped from your mouth. “This is not the kind of arrangement I’m looking for.”

“Well, then I’m not expecting sex from you, no.” Larissa simply answered. She seemed sincere, like she really had not been expecting anything more than your company.

What if you had said yes, though? Would she have sex with you if you ever changed your mind? You swallowed thickly at the thought and picked up your glass, taking a couple of sips of water.

Larissa asked about your day and if you could explain what your studies consisted of, which you happily did. You told her about economics, and how you had learnt about analysing consumers and competitors. You were sure that it was boring, having to listen to these things when you weren’t involved in marketing, and yet Larissa’s eyes never left you. She gave a nod here and there, and asked more questions when something wasn’t fully clear to her. She seemed genuinely interested in you, and it felt nice.

“Thank you, Adam.” Larissa smiled when the entrées were placed on the table.

You looked down at your plate, it was beautifully presented and smelled incredible. What was it again?

“Seared foie gras,” Larissa said as if she could read your mind. “Enjoy, darling.”

“Thank you, enjoy!” You answered and picked up your fork to try the foie gras. You remembered having tasted it once, years ago at a wedding. But it didn’t taste this good in your memory.

Larissa watched your every move. She watched you push the fork inside your mouth, how you closed your eyes when the food filled your tastebuds. The foie gras was exquisite, the woman knew it, and she relished in the pleased hum that escaped you.

“What do you think?” She said, eager to hear your thoughts.

“It’s delicious, thank you for picking it.” You answered honestly, causing Larissa to let out a shuddering breath. Was she getting off on this?

The rest of the meal went smoothly. Larissa seemed determined to keep most of her life private, only answering a couple of your questions, often with well-thought answers that wouldn’t give out too much. It seemed like she enjoyed hearing you talk about yourself, though, for she asked you question after question throughout the evening.

“Thank you for tonight, Larissa.” You said when the two of you walked out of the restaurant. She had paid for the whole bill and, even though you had expected it, it still brought a blush to your cheeks.

She wrapped her arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer against her, walking with you towards her car. She had convinced you to let her drive you back to your flat, although it hadn’t taken much for you to agree to it.

You sat down in the passenger seat of her Chevrolet and stayed quiet as Larissa turned on the engine and drove away from the restaurant. A silence fell between you, it was a bit uncomfortable until the older woman turned the radio on and a familiar new wave song filled the car.

Larissa softly hummed along to the tune and her hand moved to rest on your leg, just above your knee, her thumb soothingly rubbing your skin. You didn’t think you would love it as much as you did, but her hand was warm against your flesh and it simply felt right.

“I think we’ve arrived.” Larissa said as she pulled over in front of your flat.

“Mm? Oh, yeah, yes!” You nodded taking a look outside. You had been lost in your thoughts for the entirety of the ride.

Larissa leaned over and pulled something from the glove compartment before handing it to you. It was a small golden envelope with your initials handwritten on it.

“For your missed shift.” She smiled and placed the envelope in your hand.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm. Now go, get some rest.” She purred. “I will text you later.”

“Goodnight, Larissa.” You bit your lip, hesitating for a second before eventually placing a kiss on the woman’s cheek.

“Goodnight, darling.” She squeezed your thigh and watched you step out of her car, waiting until you were inside the building before she drove away.

You closed the door behind yourself and let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. It had gone…surprisingly well. Larissa was truly charming, she was intelligent, eloquent, and wealthy. And she was breathtakingly beautiful.

You stepped out of your heels and walked through your flat, dropping the envelope on the kitchen counter before you made your way to the bathroom for a well-deserved shower.

Thoughts of the older women flooded your mind as soon as you stepped under the hot water jet. Was she home already? What was she doing? Had she enjoyed her evening? You were pretty sure that she had. More than once you had caught her pupils dilating as you thanked her for what she had picked for you, whether it was the food or the clothing. Was she thinking about you right now like you were thinking about her?

Would you like to have sex with me? - her voice echoed through your mind and you whined, dropping your hand between your legs. There was a sense of urgency in the way you fucked yourself as you thought of Larissa being in control of you, your food, your outfit - God, you’d probably let her take control of your whole being if she asked for it.

“Fuck- Larissa!” Her name rolled from your tongue as you reached your climax, leaving you panting heavily against the shower wall. It was depraved, you thought, fucking yourself thinking of a woman you had just met.

The same thought crossed Larissa’s mind as she slowly pulled her fingers out of herself, pushing them between her lips to lick them clean. It was depraved, but you had looked so good in the dress she’d picked for you and you had been so thankful all night long.

The tall woman opened a kitchen drawer, pulled a cigarette out of it, and lit it while she poured herself a glass of red with her other hand. It usually was either one or the other, but tonight she really needed both. Larissa was hooked, she couldn’t help herself, she loved taking care of a pretty thing.

You grabbed the envelope from the counter on your way to bed, opening it once you had settled down under the duvet. Two hundred dollar bills fell on your lap, making your eyes widen. This was almost double what you’d have made for your shift tonight. You bit your lip and put the money back into the envelope before shoving it inside your bedside table. Maybe you could get used to this, spending time with a beautiful woman and being paid for it. What was that thing she said? Ah, yes, to seek utmost pleasure.

———————————————————————

taglist: @raspburrythief @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @larissaoftarthweems @principal-weems09@catechristiesstuff @kimiinou @winterfireblond @im-a-carnivorous-plant @geekyarmorel @h-doodles @azu-zu @barbarasstar @witchesmortuary @vigelvictoria @m1lflov3rrr @dumbasslesbi @crow-raven-crow @fridays-coven @lilfartbox1 @makkaroni221 @snakeskin-world @shawncantwrite @eveymay @gwens0girl @aemilia19 @s-c-rambledegggs @the-bagel24 @lvinhs @thefutureisus2020 @marcelinececiliarose @gela123 @a-queen-and-her-throne @dani885-xox @rando-mango @jessi-v @rosiexweill @raya0jpg @iheartmilfies @tbsoe @olivianevrakisownsme @wheresmyboo @my-silver-spring @hillary-nicks @ablsk @natasha29romanoff @kittyxtallmilfs @tallvampirelady12 @spacetoaim22 @canyoufeelmyheartsayinghi @bigwanise12 @moonyboyjay @i-love-nerdy-stuff @sapphicsticate-blog @1-800-milfdilf @isastrwbxy @bluepandastarfish @tarabeck15 @musicallovinggal @scarlettssub @jasperobsidian-blog @slightlymalicedme @anoymous614372 @i-write-sometimes-maybe @brienne-the-brave @slytherinthepms @non-binary-frogking @wife-of-gwendolinechristie @goodnightboi @anjo-iludidoefudido @imnotafruitt

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa weems x y/n #no beta we die like larissa #principal weems #sugar mommy Larissa #secret benefits

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sunnys-out · 3 months

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Alexia, mi reinita, mi amor, mi todo | Alexia Putellas x Reader

A/N: Not me wanting to get this out still on Alexia's birthday like I'm turning an essay in at midnight. Ok honestly I would write a part two of this but that's only if people are interested. Again requests are closed for now.

So it's a little angsty, has a little hurt/comfort (I know this woman gives the best hugs let's be real), and some Alexia fluff.

Based on this prompt list: #4, #20

Warnings: Anxiety/panic attack symptoms

WC: 1860

Alexia had resolved it in herself that she would use whatever leverage she had to have you stay at Barcelona. She was not the type to use that card…she was not that kind of player…the type to threaten to leave to get what she wanted, but the thing she wanted was you. She had tried to speak with some of the staff about it but they were “conveniently busy”. With no success, she texts you “Voy a casa, te veo pronto, amor” (I’m going home, I’ll see you soon, love) before driving over to your shared home.

Barcelona was dragging their feet with regards to your contract of whether you would be renewed or be traded to some other club, some other league, some other country. You had spent 4 years dedicated to Barcelona and had earned your spot in the midfield. The statistics you pulled throughout your career there were phenomenal, the kind that made your girlfriend proud to see because she was there from the beginning. So why was Barcelona playing a cat and mouse game with your livelihood?

______________________________________________________________

“Alexia, mi Reinita, mi amor, mi todo (my little queen, my love, my everything),

You know that I am better with my words written on paper than spoken to you. You still make me nervous when I look at you; I still blush as quickly as I did when we first met. I write this to you because I’m going to America to Bay FC…the deal has been done and the announcements will be out in a couple of weeks, but I wanted you to be the first to know.

______________________________________________________________

The amount of times that Alexia had found you at that kitchen table with your head covered by your arms crying out your frustrations at another deal that went nowhere. She would never say a word and just quietly wrapped her arms around you and kissed the back of your head before laying hers on it. Once the crying stopped her hand would gently rub your back until eventually you began to move and pulled her into a hug with your head at her abdomen with a quick whisper of “let’s go to sleep”. Her only words would be “of course, cariño (dear)”.

______________________________________________________________

I know how you are mi amor (my love) but fighting the club is not worth it. It is hard to swallow the reality that the club that I grew up watching, grew up to play in, does not carry the same love and dedication I had for them…for me. You were one of the first people I met 4 years ago when I transferred from my club team in Mexico. It was a big move and you were there to just welcome me in, you knew immediately that I did not take change very well and was uncomfortable with everything.

______________________________________________________________

Alexia, at some point, blocked some sports news outlets on your social media because of how overwhelming the “(y/n) Transfer Rumor” posts were getting for you. You did not want to leave Barcelona, you had made a home there with Alexia and the thought of leaving all of what you had terrified you.

You could already hear the comments from the “fans” questioning your loyalty, why you couldn’t just confirm that you would be staying at Barça or leaving the team all together, why you were silent on the rumors? Alexia would be there with her head on your shoulder quietly holding you in the kitchen quieting the noises in your head with a simple kiss to the temple.

“Mi princesa, go sit down.. I’ll make dinner” she’d whisper into your hair as she led you to the table and made dinner while you watched with warmth at the woman before you.

______________________________________________________________

I remember you would tease me about my accent when I spoke Spanish and said you would give me lessons if I made you a bag after you saw me crocheting mine on the bus to my first away game. I know that the Spanish lessons were just a way to spend time with me. You could have asked me to be with you at any point and I would have said yes. I remember you teaching me how to dance in our kitchen one night after saying that I was worried about making a fool out of myself at my brother’s wedding. I’m going to miss our 3 am dances we would do when I was pacing the kitchen stressed out of my mind on this transfer.

As you said, “Here I don’t want you to walk back and forth alone, just dance with me instead…I'm here”. I still remember the feeling of you under my palms; every curve, every line as I would take the lead of the dance and you would look at me calmly guiding my hands like how you did when you first taught me…yeah I’ll miss those quiet moments the most.

______________________________________________________________

You had not gone to practice that morning due to stomach issues and you had to basically push Alexia out of the door so that she went to practice.

“I’ll get some rest do not worry, mi Reinita” You say as she answers with a quick kiss.

She grabs her bags and gives another kiss pulling you in,“I’ll be home as soon as I'm done ok?”.

Alexia entered through the doorway of the shared home and saw several moving boxes littered on the floor. Confused, she looks for you as there is not the usual soft music that you play when you are doing chores and finds you wrapped in a blanket sound asleep on the couch.

Her bag is gently put to the ground as she rounds the corner of the couch. She sees the coffee table littered with papers and your phone with an unread message from her.

She quietly looms over the papers, seeing a copy of your original Barcelona contract, the proposal, the rejection to the proposal, another club offer and, finally, the letter to confirm intention to transfer. Your phone lights up with another notification; getting the attention of Alexia who notices the handwritten letter that remained unfinished under your phone.

You were a semi - heavy sleeper so she picked up the letter and began to read as her soft smile appeared, fell and then reappeared. The boxes made sense now, you were organizing your things ahead of time to leave. Seems that you received the news that morning, explaining why the staff were busy when Alexia tried her best to speak with them.

She looked down at your handwriting again…she’s so familiar with it as you have always littered her spaces with sticky notes of encouragement, love and everything in between. You always thought she had thrown them away but on your 2nd year anniversary she showed you the box where she had kept every single note that you had written to her.

It didn’t matter to her; she kept all the ones that said “Hi Ale, can you get some milk?”, “Reinita, there is dinner in the fridge”, “I’m too lazy, I ordered pizza oh and I guess Patri is coming over?’

This letter no matter how long she will keep especially close to her.

Alexia sat at the other end of the couch and began to read the last bit of the letter.

______________________________________________________________

I know that I will be so far from you and that you will miss the things that I do. You were always a romantic like that mi amor (my love). That’s why I am going to leave you my favorite book, the one that I always read way too many times and have cried over just as much. The only thing that I ask is that you don’t open it until I am gone and you are missing me. Just saying not to is going to make you want to open the book even more but please listen to me on this one. :)

I don’t know what the fixtures of the NWSL are yet but I know that you will want to -

______________________________________________________________

You stir and stretch out your legs pushing Alexia in the process. The resistance pulled you from your sleep.

Alexia laughs softly as she pats your leg, “Sleep well, cariño (dear)?”

You only nod as you rub the sleep from your eyes. Without a word, you sit up and look at Alexia who fiddles with the note that you had written.

“I wish I was at least awake when you found out, amor (love)” you start as you shift over to be closer to her.

“Are you mad at me?” your head now lying on her shoulder.

Alexia looks, almost, offended at the comment as she turns to you.

“This is your decision, cariño, you know that I will support in whatever you do and wherever you go…I’m sad, yes, but seeing you living out your dreams has been a honor for me…so no I’m not mad solamente bien orgullosa de ti (only very proud of you)”.

She pulls you closer, her hand softly rubbing your arm as she hears the small sniffles coming from you.

“Promise me you’ll watch at least one game” you say softly.

Alexia laughs and kisses the top of your head, “Amor, I’ll watch every one”.

______________________________________________________________

The announcement came and went and so did you. You found yourself preparing for the inaugural season for Bay FC. The fans had taken a liking to you immediately and the management welcomed you with open arms.

Alexia, remained in your shared home that now was quieter without your presence. The spaces that normally were filled with little posts were bare, the days for chores weren’t filled with your questionable music, and Alexia no longer needed to dance in the kitchen at 3 am.

After a particularly hard practice, Alexia returned home missing you more than usual. As she plopped down on the couch her eyes fell on your book that you left behind for her.

She remembered that you had asked her to not open it until you were gone to your new club.

Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg, it was the book that you read every year during the summer without fail. No matter how many times you read it, Alexia would see you tear up and close the book to compose yourself before continuing.

She got the book and opened to the first page and seeing a small, sticky note,

“I miss you, mi reinita”.

Alexia flipped the page and found another one,

“You can text my mom for her soup recipe, she’d only give it to you”

A laugh escapes her as she continues through the book finding more and more of your notes that you had written out. She skips to the end and finds an older looking note.

“I love you, Alexia Putellas…” with the date of your 1st anniversary with Alexia.

And below with newer ink and dated the day that you had left.

“And I… I still love you, even after all of this time”.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #barca femeni x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas x y/n #woso fanfics

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barcaatthemoon · 23 days

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mommy dearest || mary earps x reader ||

it's just mommy kink mary earps smut.

18+, smut ahead, minors dni.

"oh fuck," you moaned as mary pulled your hips down to grind against her thigh. mary had been winding you up all practice, and now you could finally do something about it. to make matters worse, mary had to stay extra time for a quick instagram photoshoot and a couple of videos for youtube.

"don't worry, we'll get to that," mary teased. you didn't need to look up to know that she had a shit-eating grin on her face. she was far too proud of herself, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. "i'll take good care of you. i always do, don't i?"

"fuck, yes," you answered. mary grabbed a hold of your jaw, forcing you to look at her as you ground against her. you recognized the look in her eyes, one that she only ever really got when she wanted something specific. "you take such good care of me, mommy."

you watched the way that mary's jaw clenched at the name. her hands came up to grab at your hips, holding you as she flipped the two of you over. you were pinned beneath mary's body on top of the mattress now. she pressed a couple of rough kisses to your lips before she backed away, stepping off of the bed and going straight for the bedside table.

"mary," you whined at the loss of contact. she stifled a smile, secretly loving it whenever you'd get needy for her. mary would have loved to hold you in her arms all night, slowly dismantling every part of you just to put you back together again lovingly, but today, she wanted something different.

"i need you to do something for me, and then i promise that i'll take care of you. can you do that for me? just one little thing for mommy," mary said. a shiver ran down your spine at the way that she was talking to you. mary was generally a very loud person, often screaming and shouting throughout the day without noticing. now, she was being careful to keep her voice low and quiet. both of you knew how easily mary could manage to drive you up the wall that way.

"i'd do anything for you mommy," you said. mary smirked as she stripped herself out of her clothes and put on the harness. you knew almost immediately what she wanted from you when she grabbed you to move you into position. your head hung off of the edge of the bed, mouth perfectly positioned to take the strap when she leaned forward.

"you're such a good girl, always so willing to do what i ask," mary praised you. a deep blush rose to your cheeks at her words. she smiled down at you as she squeezed your cheeks to open your mouth. you had expected her to push her hips forward to get things started, but instead she leaned down a little and spit into your mouth.

the action took you by surprise, as did the tingling in the pit of your stomach at the thought of it. mary picked up on your realization, smirking as she moved her hips so that you could take the tip of the dildo into your mouth. mary held your face gently as her hips started to thrust in and out of your mouth. she knew what you could handle, just like she knew the way to work you up to that.

mary tried hard not to get ahead of herself as she watched you take inch after inch of her strap into your mouth. she moaned at the sight of you with every bit of it in your mouth. she slowly pulled out before pushing back in with rougher thrusts. you were sure that it was a truly pornographic scene, mary moaning as she fucked your face with her strap.

"i don't ever want to stop this," mary said as she pulled out of your mouth once again. this time, she spun you around so that your legs were on either side of her. "but your mouth isn't my favorite thing to fuck, even if you do look pretty drooling all over my thighs."

you opened your mouth to say something as mary slid a finger inside of you. her thumb toyed with your clit, intent on making you cum at least once before she started fucking you. your head began to feel fuzzy from the way that her thumb circled around your clit as she added a second finger. your hips moved with the thrusts of her fingers as you got worked up. mary just barely managed to add a third finger to the mix before you were cumming, absolutely coating her hand as you did.

"what's your color?" mary asked you.

"green," you answered immediately. mary wiped her fingers across your lips before she grabbed your hips and pulled you closer. she slid inside of you as her lips met yours in a searing kiss. you coudl feel her tongue licking the taste of you off of your lips. mary's tongue dipped into your mouth, but all you could focus on was the feeling of her fucking you.

mary's hands held onto your hips as she rammed hers into you. she was fucking you fast and hard. each thrust went in deep, hitting every spot that you could think to want. mary pulled away from the kisses to watch the way that your boobs bounced with each of her thrusts. your hands linked up behind her neck, nails scratching at the sides as you tried to grab onto something to steady yourself.

"fuck mary, i won't last like this," you warned her. mary knew that you were close, and she wanted you to cum. she moved one of her hands down from your hips to rub against your clit, knowing that would definitely send you over the edge. mary barely managed to touch you before you were screaming out for her. "mary! i'm cumming! i'm cumming!"

"that's right, cum for mommy," mary told you. she leaned down and was whispering in your ear, not stopping her thrusts even as the resistance started to build. mary could barely move from the way that you were clenching around her. her fingers kept rubbing against your clit, pushing you into further and further over the edge. mary showed no signs of stopping, so you started to push against her and squirm to get out from beneath her.

"that's it, you've killed me," you croaked out weakly. mary chuckled as she stepped out of the harness. she set it in the bathroom for cleaning, kicking the discarded clothes that way as she went. mary moved around for a few minutes before she came back to you.

"can you sit up for me?" mary asked you. you got halfway up, which was more than enough for mary to pull you the rest of the way. she let you take a few drinks from the gatorade that she brought you. the protein bar in her hand waited until after she started to clean you up with a warm washcloth. "sorry."

"it's okay," you mumbled. that didn't stop the little whimpers from the contact. mary pressed a kiss against your cheek as she threw the washcloth towards the bathroom. it missed, but you didn't bother telling mary to pick it up as she started to help you get dressed.

"cookies and cream or peanut butter and chocolate?" mary asked as she held up two protein bars. you reached for the peanut butter and chocolate one, ignoring the pout on mary's face. she'd end up getting a few bites of it anyway. the two of you shared a favorite flavor, so you didn't know why she didn't just bring two of those with her. the cookies and cream was good, but you usually brought those along when you ran out of the other.

"what's going on in there? i think i smell smoke," you teased. mary glared at you, nearly knocking you off of the bed as she nudged you. she mumbled an apology as she grabbed you and pulled you into her arms.

"you're gonna have bruises tomorrow," mary said quietly. you knew that it bothered her sometimes to be so rough with you. she knew that you were tough, and never gave you more than what you could handle, but you bruised like an overripe peach. "that's probably gonna hurt."

"mary, look at me, if i wanted you to stop, i would have told you. there are always bruises, even when you just pin my hips down a little. i was teasing you so much because i wanted this, both of us did. if you feel so bad about this, you can give me a rub down tomorrow, i'm sure that i'll need it after the gym," you told her. mary seemed to like that idea, truly relaxing around you for the first time since she had gotten finished fucking you.

#mary earps x reader #mary earps smut #mary earps imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso smut #minors do not interact

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murdrdocs · 5 months

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fem!reader; explicit content MDNI

your behavior is nothing short of desperate.

you know it. your hips canting up into the air, catching absolutely no friction yet you try and try.

finnick knows it, if the way he was looking at you is anything to go by. raised eyebrows that made his green eyes widen. pink lips parted as if he was going to say something.

johanna knows it, her face completely smug like you've seen before. yet, this time it's directed towards you. she has you in the palm of her hands. and she's proud of it.

“what? finnick hasn’t been treating you right?” johanna sends a smirk, but not to you. instead, it's directed towards finnick behind you. you hear his scoff, and you don’t have to see him to picture the look on his face.

eyes rolling, an unimpressed facade painted onto his pretty face, but his lips would be turned up at the corners with johanna’s suggestion. because you both know it’s the opposite. you figure that johanna, with the way she smiles to herself before getting to her knees, knows that as well.

surely the way finnick treats you is next to public knowledge at this point. at least very clear within your friend group, as you've never so much as complained about him, instead all smiles as finnick was consistently at your every beck and call.

as if to prove her wrong even more, finnick speaks. "you and i both know that's not true, johanna."

his doting behavior is why you're here in the first place, pursuing a fantasy that started off as a tipsy and sleepy hypothetical. your finnick loved you so much that he made it a reality. and he was as happy about it as you were, kissing at your neck and shoulders as his hand began to massage your exposed tits.

together, finnick and johanna have ridded you of your dress, the material nothing but a bunch of fabric in the corner of your bedroom now. it was too nice to be treated that way, and you maybe would've felt more towards its discarded state if johanna weren't pulling your panties down your legs.

she does so slowly, marveling at your cunt with each centimeter of revealed skin. when the fabric is halfway down your thighs, her lips open as if she's shocked. "i don't know..." she sings, letting you step out of the little number completely before she brings the cotton to her nose, taking a deep inhale and even going as far as to let her eyes flutter shut. "has she ever gotten this wet for you?"

punctuating her taunt, johanna slides two fingers between your folds. you shudder at the feeling, your legs pushing open even further which puts more weight on finnick. he's there to hold you up, slinking an arm around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

he stares down at the digits johanna displays, as do you, and you are embarrassingly wet. maybe you would've sunken into the slightly unpleasant feeling more if johanna hadn't bought her fingers to her lips, sucking lewdly and releasing them with an exaggerated pop!.

finnick is quick to put johanna in her place. “she's been wetter."

johanna hums, completely undeterred. she wraps one of her lithe hands around the back of your thigh, hoisting it over her shoulder as she situates herself between the inviting tower of your legs.

and before she dives in, she says one more thing, something you hope to be true.

"the night is still young."

#johanna mason x reader #johanna mason x fem!reader #johanna mason x you #johanna mason smut #finnicksworld!#finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair smut #finnick odair #celeste writes thg

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khattikeri · 2 months

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one of my favorite things about mdzs is that for how heavily its plot involves politics of classism and misogyny... even the characters most directly impacted by it can't and don't free themselves from it. literally the closest exception is mianmian.

meng yao being the "son of a whore" wasn't some sort of commie awakening for him that led him to wanting everyone to be socially equal. he played the political game, climbed the ladders, sucked up to and backstabbed and murdered people, including other prostitutes who actually had nothing to do with how he and his mother were treated at the brothel he grew up in.

he put in so much extra excessive effort for even a fraction of the same respect that members of gentry cultivation clans got. and he did deserve to be treated more humanely! but he feeds into the exact same system that created him, leading to his own undoing.

his efforts were for a fragile upward mobility that was never going to hold up. he never surpassed his origins nor did he empower others in similar stations, because the society he lives in is not one that would accept that.

the second he got caught and all those crimes exposed, he was scapegoated to hell and back, replacing wei wuxian as society's terrible one-sidedly evil boogeyman overnight.

speaking of not-quite male gentry, i think it's interesting that wei wuxian explicitly doesn't try to climb the ladders in BOTH lives, knowing full well that anything he does will be punished just for the sheer fact that he is wei wuxian.

wei wuxian is scolded for giving intelligent and correct answers in school. lan wangji does the same and is praised.

wei wuxian occasionally lounges around with fellow disciples and is punished. jiang cheng does the same and mostly escapes.

wei wuxian refuses to carry his sword around in public (after losing his golden core, which nobody knows) and is scorned as an arrogant upstart. nie huaisang has been doing the EXACT SAME THING for YEARS and nobody bats an eye.

unlike jin guangyao, wei wuxian knew subconsciously from the start that his acceptance was superficial and that he could be cast out any time. when he was 10 and recently taken in by the jiangs, he canonically would not eat or use "too much" food and water because he thought they'd find him a nuisance for "wasting their things" and kick him back out.

now away from just the classism, yu ziyuan is a proud and strong noblewoman in a society that belittles and derides women for everything they do. her strong cultivation doesn't matter. she's victim to the vicious rumors of her husband loving another woman who is strong like her but apparently had a more likeable personality.

it doesn't matter even if jiang fengmian didn't cheat or that wei wuxian is wei changze's son with cangse sanren; yu ziyuan can't bear with the humiliation of herself (and by extension her children) not being "good enough". she's ridiculed for "failing" in that one duty as a wife, mother, and woman.

she lashes out and takes out that anger on everyone present for years, giving her children lasting trauma and also being a key element in how the jiang family and yunmeng jiang sect are effectively wiped out at the hands of the wen clan.

madam jin doesn't even have a name outside of the fact that she's married to jin guangshan. i don't even remember reading anything that indicates if she's a strong or weak cultivator, or what, which in itself proves that to most people, it doesn't matter. she's "just" a woman.

of course she's angry at her husband's affairs and all the bastard children they bring in. but she also can't do anything about them, so she lashes out at the few people she can: servants. non-cultivators, probably. those very same bastard children.

shoutout to meng yao getting shoved down a flight of stairs at age fourteen, because if madam jin tried that move against her husband instead, it would make her lose even more face, which as a noblewoman she'd never do.

and that's not getting into how jiang yanli is consistently sidelined for being physically weak.

that's not getting into how mianmian was actually a good cultivator, but was mocked by everyone around her for trying to stand up for wei wuxian when everyone was turning on him. how everyone scoffed at luo qingyang's words as "just some lovesick woman" who "obviously wants to marry or bed him since he saved her".

luo qingyang is the only one of these characters who HASN'T died. she didn't play society's games like jin guangyao. she didn't dig her heels in confidence of her own abilities like wei wuxian.

she didn't bitterly lash out like yu ziyuan and madam jin. she didn't gently accept it like jiang yanli.

she just LEFT.

she married an ordinary merchant and cultivates separately from mainstream cultivation society, and therein found her own peace and happiness.

mxtx doesn't bother with particularly class conscious or feminist vocabulary to hand-hold readers into understanding these disparities, but that choice highlights them & the deeply entrenched politics of their society even more. i really love it.

#keri chats #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #long post #mdzs spoilers #im novel only but still tagging.#the untamed #cql #yeah yeah everyone's written meta addressing this aspect of the story BUT I THINK ABOUT IT ALL THE TIMEEEEE #maybe i just don't get to read a ton of books often; esp not ones that mirror my own culture. but it's just so. soooooo. augh #the fact that the setting itself enables so much of the tragedy in mdzs... which is true of all tragedies but STILL...#this isn't even getting into qin su and the power imbalance w her and jgy post-reveal... man.#man. so much going on here. man #THIS POST IS MESSY AND BARELY EDITED BUT IF U READ IT. ILU

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cherryjuiceblues · 8 months

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𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 | 𝟑

➯ Y/N STARTS TO LEARN HOW HARRY LIKES TO PLAY AND THINGS TAKE A TURN WHEN SHE VISITS HIM AT WORK. ✰ dom!harry brief unwanted male attention. sexual content. dominant and submissive dynamics. spanking as a lighthearted punishment. inspection kink if you squint. slight daddy kink. tummy bulge. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 15k ッ mutually beneficial masterlist

Y/N wakes up whilst the rest of the world is still asleep.

Granted, much later than she usually does, but she wakes up nonetheless. With a somewhat surprising lack of body heat pressing against her. She doesn’t register it at first because, well, Y/N is very much used to waking up on her own—without the weight, or heat, or comfort of another person—but then the memory of Harry asking her if she likes to cuddle resurfaces. Followed by the one in which he holds her tightly to his front and sends her to sleep quicker than she can ever remember doing so before.

So she doesn’t need to be any sort of sneaky as she makes her way down the lavish staircase and into Harry’s kitchen—the tiles cold on her bare feet. Somewhere deep down, Y/N registers that it’s probably a little weird and inappropriate to treat Harry’s kitchen as her own when they’re not really an item, but that hesitancy is quickly replaced by the idea of presenting him with breakfast as he wakes up. To treat him with the same care he has shown her. It erases all residual sleep from Y/N’s head.

She doesn’t even ponder as to why Harry was not next to her when she awoke—brushing past the questions in favour of searching his cupboards. Jars of sauce, tins of all sorts of healthy beans and soups Y/N wouldn’t dream of eating—stocked full and regularly consumed. His fridge is glorious; if not because of its contents then because it has a built-in ice dispenser. (Serious luxury that Y/N is confounded by.) And she immediately hones in on the punnet of blueberries that are practically beckoning her to pick them up—glowing and chanting her name—it would be rude to ignore such a demanding presence.

Immediately, Y/N knows what she wants to make, and starts going through unexplored drawers and cupboards with pointed scouring. “Come on, come on,” she whispers to herself, waiting for the long, thin box to jump out at her. It’s all she needs—everything else Harry is bound to have, but this? It’s the key.

Back in the fridge, is where Y/N finds it. Completely missed in her haste to search elsewhere; Y/N will admit it bypassed her that it needed to be stored in there at all (and maybe deny that she just wanted to snoop). Ready made puff pastry. Perfect for a blueberry pie.

Y/N is giddy at the thought—cheeks squishing with an excited smile as her top teeth dig into her bottom lip—of waking Harry up with the fresh smell of home baking and watching him as he swallows each bite. It’s exhilarating to her. Pleasurable, some may say. (Well, Y/N wouldn’t dare, but it certainly gets her heart racing.)

She’ll come to realise that doing something so elating, in the midst of night when she cannot sleep, is not the correct way of tiring herself out. Her cheeks practically ache from the smile she’s wearing as she tosses blueberries in a bowl with sugar, cornstarch and generous sprinklings of cinnamon and allspice. When she starts working on creating the lattice for the top of the pie, the concentration needed does admittedly cease some of her excitement. But it is only replaced by the stress of trying to make it look perfect. Which, additionally, only awakens her further. Everything but the idea of sleep is floating around in Y/N’s head.

But it’s going well! And Y/N stares down at her creation with a proud grin, ready to refrigerate in order to sneak back down in a few hours and cook it. She’s starting to clean up as quietly as she can when her lack of presence in bed is discovered.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Y/N spins around from where she’s washing up in the sink, heart lurching and utensils clattering against the porcelain, a shriek forcing its way out of her mouth. She relaxes when she sees Harry. And then panics again at his stern expression and the way his eyes drop to the hem of his shirt that brushes her thighs and the slight peek of his boxers that he’d graciously offered. “Um…”

“Ummm?” he parrots. “You’re just um-ing in my kitchen, are you?”

“No,” Y/N huffs, but she’s aware this is not her house, or her kitchen, or her food. “No, I’m… I was baking you something. I’m sorry.”

Harry nods, biting back the urge to ridicule with a ‘I can see that’. Instead, he asks, “What did I say not even twelve hours ago, love?”

“Uh…” her lack of articulation puts a smirk on Harry’s already smug face.

“Can’t remember? Were you not listening to me?”

Y/N flusters, scurrying around the counter to get closer to Harry’s leaning figure. “I was! But then you…” she trails off, looking towards the floor at his socked feet.

“I…” Harry coaxes. “I what?”

She looks up slowly, taking in the soft of his sweats and the tempting bareness of his chest. “You… y’know. It was hard to concentrate.”

“And why’s that, darling?”

“Harry,” Y/N whines, eyes rounding out at his expression—one of a winner—one of a person with the upperhand.

He becomes serious. “I told you I expected you to go to bed when I said.”

“I did!” she tries, “You didn’t say I couldn’t get up.”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“You weren’t there when I woke up.”

Harry removes his weight from the doorframe. “I know.”

“Where did you go?”

“The garden.” The massive garden. “You see, I find some fresh air does wonders to tucker me out. Instead of spending hours baking a cake—”

“—It’s a pie.”

He laughs. “A pie. Forgive me. It couldn’t wait ‘til the morning? Hm?”

“I jus’ wanted to surprise you,” Y/N frowns. “Wanted to wake you up with it as a thank you.”

“A thank you? A thank you for what?”

She hesitates, “For this,” gesturing with her arms.

“You have nothing to thank me for, darlin’. I don’t want you to keep believing that.” He steps forward. “You’re very sweet. Incredibly sweet… I don’t need a pie, lovely. Especially not at three a.m.”

“But—”

Harry lifts the knuckle of his index finger to brush across her cheek, shaking his head softly.

“Finish cleaning in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I wanted to—”

“Y/N. Listen to me.” He moves closer. Y/N has to crane her neck to look at him. “Come to bed with me. I’ll get you back to sleep in no time. And in the morning, I will let you feed me pie until I bloody turn into one, okay?”

She hesitates—just for a second. Her eyes do feel heavy, and she really is tired. Harry’s eyes dance over her face so delicately, it feels as though they’re casting some sort of spell. And the longer she looks at him, the sleepier she becomes. So she nods her head. “Okay.”

ㅤㅤ

Harry’s bedroom is much like the rest of his house. White. And vast.

His bed—super king size, of course—lies temptingly in the middle of the room, sheets tastefully dishevelled, and the soft green of leaves printed on cotton contrasts against the drab lacking of the walls.

Harry trails Y/N back to his bed, soothing in the way his palm ghosts across her back as he coaxes her under the covers. He lies down next to her, lifting an arm to allow her to rest on his chest. She’s shy, feather light in the way she puts her head upon him, but they both relax the moment they’re weighed down by one another.

“Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth f’me… nice and slow.”

She listens, encouraged by the dance of his fingers across her skin. Swooping curls and waves along the soft lines of her shoulder, down her arm and back up again. Brushing tendrils away from sensitive extremities and smoothing them in a nurturing caress against her head. It’s cathartic—the silence that overtakes Y/N’s mind. Or hushed whisperings as opposed to the usual blaring exclamations; as though Harry has crossed the threshold of a library with Y/N’s hand in his and hidden her away from the domination of her thoughts.

So it takes very little for sleep to crowd her senses, unconsciousness barrelling towards her when Harry starts painting whispering images behind her eyelids—the deep, vibrating timbre of his voice soaking into her skin and carrying her away.

“You’ll love the garden…”

“...enough flowers to bathe you in…”

“It needs a little care but I think you’ll breathe life into the soil just by standing on it.”

“...plant thousands of yellow tulips just for you…”

And Y/N can only just hear the way his tongue moulds around the syllables to form words, as the tender hands of sleep pull her deeper into the fog, and if she were more alert her heart would soar… but her lips pull upwards and her nose presses into the soft of Harry’s throat as he waxes lyrical about his garden.

She falls asleep with a mirage of colours forming kaleidoscopes in her mind—petals, and leaves, and tendrils of grass harbouring a certain figure bathing in the glistening sunlight.

ㅤㅤ

Wet.

Sensitive.

Those are the only two feelings Y/N can process as she’s torn from the comforting embrace of slumber.

Harry’s hair is soft and smells far too familiar for a man she has known for a handful of weeks. But it smells good, and Y/N nearly pushes her nose into it before she realises the culprit of her waking emotions.

His tongue flat against her neck… followed by the blunt nipping of his teeth around her delicate skin. It’s not something Y/N is well equipped to react to—especially not as she is waking and the world is still blurry around the edges. A shaky breath is what alerts Harry to her consciousness and Y/N feels him smile into her throat, ministrations doubling as he rumbles a rogue growl and opens his mouth wide in the pretence of a chomp around her jugular.

She squeals, hands coming up to the solidness of his chest of their own accord, palms flattening against him. The weight of his body against the side of hers bears no struggle against her pathetic attempt—he only leans in further, licking and nibbling to his heart’s desire. His encompassing hand swallows one of her own on his body, pulling it away and pushing it into the pillow as he stimulates every nerve on her neck—coaxing the blood to the surface of her skin and leaving behind the aching reminder of his presence.

“I surrender…” Y/N whispers into the air, words trailing off into a sigh.

Harry hums, “Too bad.”

She could fall asleep again so easily. Believe this is all a dream and let Harry gently abuse her flesh until her breathing evens out. But then his hand settles on her stomach, large, and warm, and weighted—only soothing her further—until it starts to trail lower. Under the covers, under the boxers he’d let her wear, and over her pubic bone.

Y/N’s eyes shoot open then, and her back darts up from the mattress in surprise. Harry peels away from her neck, lips succulent and begging to be chewed upon the way he demonstrated against her throat. His eyes are still slightly puffy from sleep and the mess of his hair makes him look charmingly youthful. But he’s far too smug for a regular person’s liking—really embodying that of his teenage self, Y/N is sure—however the assurance he displays on his face only has the warmth of his hand searing her further as they look at one another.

“Good morning.” His vocal cords rub together like gravel and his fingers dip down with fluid contrast.

Y/N gasps, letting her back press into the mattress once more as Harry strokes along her lips almost playfully, like they are his own to toy with. His eyes smile teasingly at the girl and her little breathy inhales. She opens her mouth to speak but words fail to form when Harry touches her clit with a circle so light it may not have ever been there.

“Sleep well?” A finger ghosts around her entrance, arousal coating his digit as he brings it back up and presses with intention.

A shaky inhale. “Y-yes…” she pauses, clings onto coherence, “Sir.”

Harry smiles. “Oh? Maybe you were listening t’me… that’s a shame. I still have to demonstrate my utmost disappointment in you, pretty girl.”

“You don’t ha-have to,” Y/N gasps, eyes catching the movement of Harry’s hand to the top of her head—gentle caressing never suggesting he could be doing anything else under the sheets.

“Oh, but I do, darling. But just to make sure we’re on the same page…” he pushes his middle finger inside her to the hilt. Y/N’s back arches. “Why am I disappointed in you?”

The question stirs something murky inside of her. Completely different to the feeling of his finger curling upwards and pulling a moan from her mouth.

Why am I disappointed in you?

It feels so… wrong, so ugly parting from his lips. Y/N never intended to disappoint him—it’s not part of her nature to upset anyone on purpose. Her brows furrow slightly, self consciousness brewing in her heart. Was she always doing things wrong? Frustrating people? Letting them down?

“I— um…” she swallows, “I got up after you told me to go to bed.”

Harry continues to display apathy. “Mhm… and you—”

Y/N covers her face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Her breathing is shallow, mind screaming at her for messing this all up so soon. She thought she was being nice, she thought Harry would be pleased, she thought—

“Hey,” Harry pulls her hands away. “You know you’re such a good girl, don’t you? It’s all words, lovely, I would communicate with you if I was really affected by something you had done.”

She exhales some—relief flooding her eyes. “Oh…” palms pushing into her sockets to soak up the tears. She grimaces. “I feel silly.”

“Don’t.” He presses a small kiss to Y/N’s cheek, right under her eyelashes. “You understand the idea of punishment? That I am to reprimand you if you misbehave?”

Y/N nods. It was exciting… she knows that… once the fog has been cleared. Just a fun, little game.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, I— I want you to… to tell me off… I deserve it, Sir.”

“Because you got up, didn’t you? And what else?”

“I… I used your food without permission…”

“What else?” he whispers.

“I don’t… know,” her voice quietens to match his.

“Three a.m., Y/N. There is no need to zombify yourself because you think it will make me happy. It won’t. I’d much prefer a pie baked whilst the sun is still shining.”

Harry moves his finger inside of her, stroking before pulling it out and smearing it over her clit. He brings the wetness to her mouth, rubbing it along her bottom lip and smiling when her jaw unlatches ever so slightly.

“But I recognise the sweetness,” Y/N’s tongue darts out to entice his finger. “You wanted to feed me, wake me up with a hot breakfast—so quick to become my good, little housewife, aren’t you?” His words send shivers through her chest, down her stomach, and between her legs. That’s… God, she doesn’t know but she likes it. “And so… I’ll be nice. Flip over.”

Y/N’s not totally daft… but the question falls out anyway. “Why?”

Harry’s eyes harden, fingers squeezing her cheeks together. “Do it, darling. Now.”

She does. With haste, face pressing into the pillow as she turns it to the side. Harry lifts a leg over the back of her thighs, weight holding her down as his large hands smooth up her back to push her shirt away. “Let me see that pretty, little arse,” he sighs to himself before tugging her borrowed boxers down just enough to expose the soft flesh. Y/N doesn’t expect the kneading that his palms start to soothe her with. His perfect fingers massaging in pushes and pulls. It’s a little humiliating, knowing that he’s observing her—the most vulnerable of states—but with it comes the most trusting freedom and she breathes a deep sigh as her limbs relax into his mattress.

But it’s supposed to be a punishment, isn’t it? And Y/N realises too late, once Harry’s hand has already retracted and sliced through the air to deliver a well-connecting smack to the round of her ass. She gasps, hips twitching—and her leg even threatens to bend up in the air—as heated pinpricks tingle around the shape of Harry’s handprint. It’s admittedly quite nice. Nice enough to probably not be considered a punishment but Y/N would never complain. And she supposes Harry had promised her his niceness.

“Is that okay?” he asks quickly, relieved when Y/N nods just as fast and pushes her bum back into his hand.

The heat spreads, sending electrical currents through Y/N’s veins and making her already wet cunt contract around nothing. “You are a divine little thing,” she hears him through her rushing blood. Another slap to the other cheek, followed by her quivering breaths and muffled whimpers as she turns her head into the pillow. “Even more heavenly with a hot bottom,” Harry hums, stroking the backs of his knuckles over her fiery skin.

Y/N’s already lightheaded, after two measly spanks. She suspects somewhere in the depths of her brain that Harry could knock her about if he so desired and that she really must take efforts to improve her stamina but… when she feels his lips press soft kisses to her bum—everything melts away. Her eyes are closed and her breathing is even and she’s sinking into a fluffy cloud miles and miles above the ground.

And she’s silly. Very silly.

Because Harry spanks her again, and she should’ve expected that two would hardly count as her retribution but they felt so good and her brain was so easily consoled by him.

These ones are harder. And in rapid succession. These ones have Y/N’s head rising from the pillow in a gasp that sounds less dreamy and more like the predecessor to a very loud—

“Shit!”

Which earns her two more smacks to either cheek. “Language, Y/N.”

“Sorry, Sir. Hurts—” The initial heat she was bathed in is now closer to that of a scalding shower than warm sunshine. It’s pulsing, radiating, steaming heat that may as well be smoking off her body in profuse clouds of vapour. Harry’s rough in the treatment of her skin now, kneading to watch the malleable flesh bend at his will instead of caressing to lull Y/N into a peaceful state.

He hums. “I know, bum’s on fire, love. You’re doing very well. Let’s do two more, shall we?”

“O-okay,” Y/N nods face down. Until Harry leans over her back momentarily and positions her head to the side once more, smearing his lips to the corner of her mouth in a possessive reward of a kiss.

“Such a good girl. Just two more f’me.” His voice is soft but his hands stay bruising as they come down twice more. Y/N sighs as soon as the last one resounds around Harry’s room, and the vibrations die down into their residual tingles. It hurts—but in a calming way. Y/N’s body feels not her own; she needn’t move her own limbs or think thoughts with her own brain. There’s no need—she has nothing to contemplate anyway.

On another day, she might have cried at this realisation—at the complete and utter profuse emptiness that allows for the first serenity she has ever known. No anxieties, no needs or responsibilities. Just Harry and his bed. And her hot skin. But right now, as Harry leans over her again, gracing her with the sight of his handsome face… Y/N can only smile.

“I think someone enjoyed that a little too much,” Harry murmurs, bracing himself above her, hair curling over his forehead whilst he tugs her boxers back up.

“Sorry, Sir,” Y/N whispers, tongue heavy. “I’m good? I won’t get up in the night, I promise.”

“You’re good. Took your first spanking so well…” He pauses to stroke down the bridge of her nose and relish in the fluttering of her lashes as her eyes fall shut. “Shall we fill up on some pie now, yeah?”

Y/N snaps out of it a little then, and is suddenly hit by the waves of her throbbing pussy, as she pushes up slightly on her elbows. “B-but…”

Harry leans back, confusion passing over his features. He was sure she’d be more excited. “What’s wrong, love?”

She whispers it, like it’s some sort of secret. “You… I’m still…” her eyes clench shut in embarrassment.

He clocks the cause of her whinging immediately. “Mm, I know you are. Probably made a mess of my boxers, haven’t you? Should we check?” Y/N squeals and rolls out of Harry’s reach… or she tries to but fails to make any sort of meaningful distance. “You wanna come? Is that it? Your greedy cunt wants to come.” Harry watches as she nods her head pitifully, eyes wide and lip protruding like she has no idea what she’s doing. Minx. “What have you done to deserve that?” His hands clasp her hips deliciously as he takes his place above her, securing her in his prison of arms. “Not much of a punishment if I give you an orgasm, is it, darlin’?”

She doesn’t speak. Only looks up at him like he built the very house they lie in. Harry leans down to kiss her awaiting mouth. A sweet smack as they part and the widening of Y/N’s already melted eyes... and then he’s taking her by force, manoeuvring her back onto her stomach and hitting right in the centre of her bum, before pushing up from the mattress to look down at her with a mischievous grin and an offering hand. In a dizzyingly fast sequence of actions.

Y/N squawks, unexpecting of his cruel attack. “Ow!” She cries, kneeling up to protect her sensitive skin from his barrage. (Not that Harry couldn’t put her in any position he liked.)

“Come on, up y’get. S’breakfast time. Colazione!”

And Y/N is left to watch Harry’s broad, bare back disappear from view as she kneels on his mattress with a scorching ass and sodden underwear.

ㅤㅤ

She doesn’t mean to be ungrateful. It’s a lack of filter combined with a slight grumpiness which is understandable after the way Harry left her.

So it’s with instant regret that Y/N enters the kitchen, slides onto a stool and asks, “What’s this?” in reference to the bowl placed before her.

Harry scoffs in amusement. “It’s fruit, darlin’, you eat it all the time.” And fruit it was. An eclectic pile of all sorts of yummy stuff—strawberries, bananas, mangos, kiwis to name a few—no blueberries because Y/N had used them, of course.

She can’t help herself. “But not for breakfast!”

“What’s wrong? Not good enough for you?”

And she realises then, how unthankful she had sounded. “No! I didn’t—” she clamps shut her open mouth, eyes widening and then narrowing when Harry’s lips start to curl.

He sits himself on the stool next to Y/N, knees turned to the side so he can look at her. “Tell me,” he pokes her thigh with his index finger, just as she places a chunk of mango into her mouth.

She reaches over to poke him in return. “Tell you what?”

“What do you eat for breakfast?”

“Oh… no,” she shakes her head, mango sitting in her cheek for a second as she speaks.

“No? It’s bad then… Let me guess…” He hums, fingers tapping his chin in faux contemplation. And somehow, in true Harry fashion, he gets it right first try. A horrified look overtakes his features. “Don’t tell me… you eat those chocolate filled pillow things, do you?”

Y/N tries to school her shock to no avail, but she says nothing, eyes darting between his in rapid motions. She shoves a strawberry in her mouth.

“Oh, the terror! How could you?” Harry gasps, helping himself to a slice of toast from the rack on the middle of the island counter. He starts to spread raspberry conserve on it, head shaking the entire time—fighting the urge to start spewing fabricated statistics in order to frighten her. “Who am I kidding? Of course you eat that filth… I don’t know if I can have relations with someone who starts their day with a bowlful of pure sugar.”

Y/N giggles, fruit bulging in her cheeks as she covers her mouth with her hand. “Have—” she swallows, “—relations with? Were you born in 1954?”

Harry smiles, “That’s very specific, love.”

“Well I like to specify, so…” she supplies midchew, face looking ever so matter of fact.

He watches her as they eat, eyes trained to her fingers as they pick up lumps of fruit and bring them to her wet lips, her tongue as it pokes out to catch whatever she offers, her throat as it contracts around a swallow. It’s peaceful, and quiet as the two share the silence with one another. And when Y/N has finished her last mouthful and Harry has long since eaten his toast, he makes his way to the oven to retrieve the most beautiful blueberry pie he has ever seen. Golden lattice, bubbling purple spilling, and the divine smell of home baked confection.

Y/N’s eyes light up as though it’s Christmas morning, hands clapping under her chin and eyes crinkling in the most beautiful sight. “Oh! It looks good, Harry!” She sounds surprised, relievingly so—like it had been weighing on her unnecessarily.

“It looks delicious, Y/N, thank you. Want some?” She nods eagerly. Harry can’t help but smile, gaze directed to the floor as he shakes his head and represses the urge to coo. She’s so cute. “See, since you made it for me, I should really make you beg for even a taste.”

“Wh—” Y/N huffs, “what? That’s not fair,” she pouts.

Harry sits back down with a steaming slice on a plate. Fork in hand, he cuts a sizable segment and purses his lips to blow cool air before presenting it to Y/N. “Be careful, s’hot.” She pretends not to notice his stare concentrating on the appearance of her tongue as she opens her mouth for him to guide the pie into. It is hot. But Y/N is a master of deception… or so she tries to be. Decides the twitch of her eye and the sharp inhale of breath is unnoticeable to Harry. “You burned your tongue?”

Never mind.

Through a mouthful, Y/N goes, “No…” and chews the result of her hard work until she can swallow. “It’s nice,” she hums.

“Mm,” he agrees around his own bite. “Sweet little baker, you are.” Y/N buzzes from his praise. “Let me see.”

“Hm?”

“Your tongue, let me see.”

Y/N nearly laughs, but the look in his eyes stops her. A smugness that she’s used to by now. So she displays it for him, wet against her bottom lip. Harry inhales, a dismayed whistle sounding from his mouth. His thumb swipes along the side. “Very red. Told you t’be careful.”

She wants to grumble at him, complain about the unfairness of his statement. You fed it to me! It’s on the tip of her tongue. Her very red tongue, apparently. But she bites it back—because quite frankly, the middle of her thighs are still sending turbulent waves through her body and Harry’s patronising inspection of the inside of her mouth has pulled her back to the edge she’s tried so hard to scramble away from. The edge in which Harry only needs to look at her funny for her to topple over it.

“Poor thing,” he frowns. “I’ll have to kiss it better later.”

Y/N stares at him as he eats, opening her mouth obediently whenever he offers her another bite. His words, however teasing or condescending that they may be, float around in her skull like a DVD logo as she makes every effort not to slip into the palm of his hand.

ㅤㅤ

When Harry announces he’s off to shower and beckons Y/N to follow, she knows it can’t be good—whatever he is about to subject her to. He plays it off like it’s nothing, like it’s casual to leave the bathroom door open whilst he steps under the hot spray, completely naked. And maybe it is… to people that aren’t Y/N, but she knows Harry is trying to embed his way under her skin. That’s why he tells her to wait for him on his bed.

She doesn’t snoop, although she wants to, but it would be a violation of his privacy and who was Y/N if she wasn’t good? She doesn’t look into the bathroom either, despite not being able to see a thing through the gap (closer to a chasm) he’d left open. Was he trying to tempt her? To corrupt the last shred of virtue in her body? Did he want her to go in there… strip down and join him? Or was he looking for an excuse to play rough with her skin again? Waiting for her to walk in so he could look down at her with conniving eyes and shake his head in disappointment. You filthy girl. Are you a pervert, Y/N? Who gave you permission to come in here and sneak a glance? You’re so naughty, darlin’.

Clammy fingers press into her cheeks, trying to will away the shame. She felt perverted just thinking those things. Which perhaps is a little silly of her, seeing as they’ve been as connected as two people can be on two separate occasions now but… maybe there’s an inkling of something there that Y/N doesn’t want to accept. That the coalescence of the humiliation and arousal means for an intense curling in her abdomen. That the longer she pictures Harry belittling her for being so dirty to peek at him at his most vulnerable, that the hotter her face gets and the further her thoughts stray from sanity.

Maybe she’s just wound up from this morning… or maybe Y/N likes it best when she’s treated like she’s just a stupid little girl. Her thighs squeeze. Stupid for hypothetically walking into the bathroom, stupid for baking a pie at three a.m., stupid for burning her tongue after Harry told her to be careful. She’s stupid—and she needs Harry to do everything for her. Maybe that’s it.

The water turns off. And Y/N can hear the swishing of a towel as Harry pulls it off the rack, the way it rubs over the droplets running rivulets down his shining skin, and then nothing. She hears nothing… but it hardly matters for very long because when Harry steps into his bedroom undeniably naked, Y/N is far from thinking about identifying sounds.

Her first urge is to look away—to provide some sort of privacy for the man in his own bedroom. But she forces herself to look into his eyes. This is the man who cherished her first time, who cared to speak in soft caresses and made the effort to take her on dates and cook her food. She didn’t need to look away, she was allowed to stare by this point. But it was still… heartstopping. Nudity was still novel to Y/N—she was, even now, fairly uncomfortable by her own, let alone someone else's, but God if Harry wasn’t the best example to study.

“Pervert,” Harry murmurs. Y/N blanches; she opens her mouth but nothing comes out. And now her eyes are fixed on his—any attempts at subtly trailing them down his body are strictly thwarted—and Harry is loving it. His perfectly square teeth digging into his pink bottom lip whilst he strolls his way over to his wardrobe. Y/N looks down for the moment she thinks he cannot see, only to realise there are mirrors inside of the doors and he can watch every movement of her eyeline. He turns. “You’re a little peeping Tom,” walking towards where Y/N sits at the end of the bed.

She has to look up at him (avoiding the sight of his cock that she is sure must be the only pretty one in existence) and he stares down at her. She hardly recognises the irony—that he’s the one parading around in the nude and it was hardly fair to call her out for simply observing that. Because then he’s moving forward again, and Y/N is shuffling backwards on the bed—inadvertently giving Harry enough room to climb on and pin her down. He glides his eyes over her still clothed body as though she’s as exposed as he is, and yet Y/N still doesn’t let her gaze drop. No matter how hard it is.

It isn’t hard. Yet. But she gasps at the feeling of Harry against her thigh—soft, and lingering, and most of all… promising.

“How would you like it if I scrutinised you?” His hands tease her waist. “You’d be squirming all over the place. Perhaps you’d enjoy that.” His fingers dig into her flesh and Y/N lets out somewhat of a scream. The unexpected prodding has her body twisting under his, desperate to escape his digits and proving his point in the process. Her hands push against his chest and her thighs wiggle between his; she’s surely not imagining the hardening of his dick against her. The arousal he’s receiving from watching her struggle… it makes her move even more. And maybe it’s simply an accident when her hand slips down his body and wraps around his half-hard cock. And maybe it’s just reflexive when Y/N giggles, a happy, surprised noise, at the stuttering of Harry’s tickling and the little rut of his hips. But then her arms are pinned down beside her head and his breath is ghosting across her mouth. “Who told you it was okay to touch? I thought you were an obedient little thing… not a brat.”

And Y/N nearly feels offended. A brat? Never. “Sorry,” she whispers, eyes shimmering with light.

“Are you?” Harry hums, dropping enough to draw his nose across the line of her jaw.

“Yes,” her eyes flutter closed. She needs to be touched, more than ever before. She can feel the increasing weight of Harry growing against her stomach, and the heat of his breath kissing her neck, and the wet tendrils of his hair dripping down her temple. “Not a brat.” He’s won already, if the breathiness of her voice is anything to go by.

He sits up, leaving cold air in his absence. Y/N blinks with confusion. Why’d he stop?

“Okay, little miss ‘Not a Brat’, up y’get.” She sits, frown on her pretty lips. “Your turn, off y’go.” Harry points to the bathroom. “There’s a clean towel in there for you,” Y/N could cry, “and I’ll lay your clothes out when you’re done.”

She doesn’t argue. She wants to, but her eyes only round out, silent begging getting her nowhere as Harry smiles and leans down to kiss her brow. So saccharine and gentle after being so cruel. It drives her round the bend. But as she makes her way over to the door and makes sure to shut and lock it—her own little victory—Y/N starts looking forward to lathering herself in Harry’s smell… and maybe memorising which shower gel he uses so she can buy some herself…

It’s with false confidence that Y/N exits the bathroom, towel gripped tightly around her but not tight enough to suggest shyness. Even though Harry can see right through her. He’d said he’d lay her clothes out but all she sees is a dress hanging up on the door of his wardrobe, and Harry sitting back against his pillows—dressed in his corduroy shorts and a blue t-shirt with a big yellow smiley face in the centre—nursing a cup of tea.

“Uh— is that…” she starts, eyes struggling to look away from the delicate fabric.

“Mhm,” Harry hums.

“How did you… how did you know my size?”

“I’m observant, sweetheart.”

“I… Thank you, Harry. It’s so pretty.” And it is. Dark green with an intricate décolletage and no back, thin straps and two lines of fabric hanging down behind ready to be tied into a bow that rests just under the ribs. It looks as though it’ll hang mid thigh and swish against her skin airily. It’s exactly something Y/N would have picked out herself.

He’s looking at her when he hums once more in agreement. “Isn’t it just…” He takes a long gulp. “Pop it on then, love.” Y/N reaches out to grab the hanger, eyes roaming along the lines of the dress and then floating up to smile at Harry. Hesitant, worried she doesn’t deserve it and elated at the same time. “G’na drop your towel?” He grins.

And sure, maybe Y/N was more than happy to admire a naked Harry but that doesn’t mean he’d be lucky enough to see her in the same position. Shameless eyes roving across her curves and searing her skin in the process. So she shakes her head with flaming cheeks and quickly bolts back into the bathroom to the sound of Harry’s disbelieving chuckle.

It’s snug to her body, and something about knowing that Harry had browsed through clothes with her in mind, had seen this very one and decided it was perfect, makes it all the prettier on Y/N’s body. She giggles to herself, admiring the dress against her skin, and angling her body in the mirror to get a better look.

She was pretty and she believed it. It felt nice.

Save for the glaringly obvious breeze in between her thighs.

“Harry…” she calls as she opens the door. “Can you tie me up?”

He smiles, choosing to ignore the versatility of her question in favour of drinking in the sight before him. A Goddess, he’s sure. “You’re just lovely, aren’t you?” Y/N’s face blossoms, shy smile fighting to stay and claim its place. Her eyes crinkle and her irises brighten and the laugh that echoes around the room makes Harry’s chest hurt. “Turn around.”

He wishes bows were notoriously difficult to tie—so that he would be able to spend much longer brushing his fingers against the exposed skin of her back and tracing his gaze over the hair that rises on her arms from his touch alone. His hands close around her hips once he’s finished, as he bends down to press a kiss to her shoulder, stubble scratching her in a way that’s all too familiar.

She exhales, “You ripped my underwear,” and feels him smile into her skin.

“Such a shame, isn’t it?” Warm palms squeeze, bunching the material around his fingers. “At any moment… a breeze could just…” he flips the hem of her dress up and over her ass, “expose...” Y/N squeals, trying to step forward but Harry’s heavy grip has her thumping into his front with a loud exhalation of breath and smaller hands falling on top of his. The material of his shorts is rough against her flesh, but she wants to grind back against it despite the fact. Harry’s hard chest pressing into her back and his deep breaths fluttering over her shoulder has any attempts at escaping evaporating into the air before them. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?” He whispers, face turning into her cheek as he pushes into her behind gently.

“N-no,” Y/N shakes her head as it lolls back slightly to rest against him.

“Well… let’s hope the wind doesn’t pick up,” and he’s stepping away from her, grinning at her little stumble when the sturdiness of him is gone.

“What?”

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? I was thinking we’d go for a little walk.” Y/N turns, fingers coming down to pull her dress tight against her thighs. Harry looks at her with no remorse—like her flustered expression and the clear want in her eyes means nothing to him. His tongue darts out to lick his lips; weapons as far as Y/N is concerned. “Grab your shoes,” he nods and Y/N follows his gaze to the top of the wardrobe… conveniently out of her reach. And not where she had left them the day before.

“You—” she narrows her eyes. He’s the pervert. “I can’t!”

“Try.” A cunning smile.

Y/N crosses her arms over her chest—which only serves to push her adorned breasts up—so she drops them with a huff and stomps over to make a fool out of herself, she’s sure. She stands on her toes, ignoring the cool air on the tops of her thighs. Whether Harry may or may not be watching the hem tease the underside of her bum is none of her concern, quite frankly. That sounds like a him problem. Her fingers stretch out as far as they can go and she’s a fraction of a hair’s length away. Maybe she could reach them if she jumped but there’s no way her modesty would stay hidden and Y/N refuses to let him win.

“Can’t reach,” she pouts, somewhat satisfied that Harry didn’t get the full eyeful he was clearly looking for. But it seems that Harry finds a way to win even when he’s losing, because he steps up to her, smooths a big palm over the top of her head and says as though it's the most casual thing in the world…

“That’s okay, let Daddy get it,” as he plucks her shoes down without the slightest hint of a stretch.

Y/N’s mouth falls open and her brain goes silent for a split second. Let Daddy get it. Surely she didn’t like that… did she? But he doesn’t even let her question it, because he’s telling her to put her shoes on and meet him downstairs, before walking out of his room and leaving an astounded Y/N on her own.

ㅤㅤ

Flowers are fucking pointless, right? What purpose do they serve, other than looking pretty? Y/N thinks she might just pick the next petals she sees right off their stems.

Sure. Maybe they're crucial to the welfare of bees, and maybe they’re very important in the cheering up of a person after a long, hard day—or even just as a silent way of apologising to your nan for your lack of visits… but Y/N doesn’t care. She does not care. Fuck walks, fuck flowers, and fuck Harry’s fingers twining with hers. Even though they feel really, really nice. Y/N can’t take it anymore.

The wind, thankfully, stays at a very enjoyable speed. Light and breezy; nothing that may cause frantic hands to fly to her dress to hold it down after a shocking gust. And whilst Harry may have alluded to the fact that her indecent exposure was some source of amusement for him, he too is relieved that he’s not had to do any emergency fixes.

Quite surprisingly, actually, Harry has turned off all allure. Literally. As though he has a switch on the back of his head that flicks from sultry to sweet. The moment the pair had reached a road, he’d been alert—insistent on Y/N switching with him to be furthest away from the onslaught of cars. It was… thoughtful. Unexpected, somewhat, when the whole Daddy thing was still going round… and round… and round inside of her head. She hadn’t really been paying much attention to his soft murmurs, asking her to change sides with him as he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. Perhaps she was further gone than she realised, when all she could do was nod with a sort of lag, and only meet his eyes for a second before she caught the look of an incoming pram—weighed down by the peaceful sight of a sleeping baby.

If Harry notices then he doesn’t say anything—perhaps his hand tightens around hers and he walks a little closer than necessary—but he doesn’t mention her mood or his.

He buys her ice cream and walks them to a public park in which he prompts her to sit on the verdant grass and props his sunglasses on her nose. He pulls her calves across his lap and watches goosebumps follow in the wake of his soft fingertips and the bumps of his knuckles as he caresses her skin. He kisses her chin where a melty drop paints her, licking his lips with a smile that scrunches his eyes. He behaves appropriately and yet… Y/N suddenly wants to have very public sex. He calls her a messy girl in the most innocent of lilts but the insinuation, the different sort of mess that she starts picturing—the very same colour of the frozen treat she is licking.

Y/N’s eyes are absent, the pair are hardly talking to one another, and her legs buzz with every touch of Harry’s hands against them. Her answers are reduced to halfhearted hums and gradual nods all while he watches her with a fond regard.

She can’t be blamed—when the closing of his front door prompts the last of her composure to disintegrate; to fall apart at the seams and land in a frail mess on the floor. Y/N wants to join it more than anything. “Please…” a whisper falls from her bitten lips, too quiet to make out the word but the noise is carried. Harry’s hand meets the small of her back and then brushes up to smooth over her shoulder as he lifts her chin up with his index finger.

“What is it?” His brows pull together. Y/N can’t speak. Her focus dances from left to right—rapid movements—unspoken urgency. “You need to tell me… with your words, no matter how pretty your eyes look.” Smaller, nervous palms push into his stomach. Knees bend and meet hard floor. Harry’s fingers tangle into her hair, gripping but not tugging—holding her head at an angle. “This isn’t talking, darling. What are you trying to do down there?”

Y/N cups the backs of his knees, hardly registering the sarcasm that drips from his tongue. “Harry…”

“Is it?” A little yank against her scalp.

“Sir,” she tries again around a swallow. “Please can I…” her hand flattens to the front of his thigh, fingertips brushing the locked teeth of his zipper. “Can I?”

“I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to,” he hums, warm voice forcing her deeper into the plunge pool filled with honeyed tones and twining brunette tendrils. “I thought you liked to specify.”

She shuffles closer on her knees, hardly possible to do without nosing his shorts. “Can I suck your cock, Sir?”

Harry breaks out into a smile—his teeth appear in straight, pearly lines—stuttering Y/N’s train of thought; her exhale hitting his skin. And then the hand in her hair tightens, and his jaw clenches as his words harden. “May I.”

Y/N gasps at the sensation, blink overcoming her as her head is jolted from the weight of his hand. “May I?” She urges. “May I suck your cock, Sir?”

“Hm, better,” his grip loosens, other hand lifting to thumb over her brow. “Not perfect. What are you missing?”

“Please?” When Harry nods, Y/N’s hand digs into his thigh. “Please may I suck your cock, sir?”

“That’s nice,” he smiles. “How much do you want it, hm?”

Y/N’s brows twitch, lips forming a sad curve. She wants it so much. Too much to be able to coherently express it. So she leans forward, nose finally meeting his thigh—pressing up on her knees to reach where a slight bump is forming and letting her face push into his covered skin. His thickening bulge.

Harry sighs; his lungs forcibly deflating as Y/N’s warm air saturates through the corduroy. Her nose nudges around as she nestles into his crotch, delicate hands scratching the backs of his thighs. A muffled please reaches his ears, quiet but desperate. He’s a patient man—he really is—but his tolerance is being tested.

The fingers in her hair untangle, moving to hold the back of her head and push her further into him. His hips move of their own accord, suffocating Y/N with his hardening cock. She deserves it; she deserves everything. He knows that—but it had been too fun to tease… to watch her silently struggle all afternoon. To know that the spanking he’d delivered earlier this morning had stayed with her all day. He already knew they could hardly count as a punishment… not when she mollified into his mattress after the first smack. But he’d been cruel today. And now Y/N was desperate.

“Go ahead ‘n’ unzip me, love.” The eyes that greet him make Harry want to get down on his knees himself. Wide, glistening, one step away from filling with tears. Her face relaxes with an almost-smile as she tugs his zipper down, looking back up to him with a hopeful expression. “Oh, you’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” He slides his hand into the hair behind her ear, firm grip grounding Y/N, and takes himself out for her.

Y/N unfolds her tongue for Harry like it’s a red carpet—like it’s been awaiting his cock all day. His fingers wrap around himself in firm strokes, eyes stuck to hers. They’re slow motions, hips jutting forward to smear across her tongue and then pulling back to rub her spit into his head. Groans settle in his chest but all that comes out are quiet breaths. Too quiet, if you were to ask Y/N. But the harder he gets, the louder too, and those breaths become pants when Harry slaps his cock on her open mouth.

“Look at that, you’re so sweet—so eager to please.” He can tell she wants to close her mouth around him. She gets another thud against her tongue instead. And then a smear as Harry guides the tip of his cock along the plush of her lips. “So please me, baby.”

Y/N lags a little, like she’s just become shy again, and then she slips forward just enough to take the head. Her slick lips wrap around him like a dream, pulling back just to run her tongue around the mushroom tip. Her blueberry-pie-burnt-tongue. Slender fingers massage the side of her scalp, thumb stretching to stroke her cheekbone.

Harry grips himself, “Hands behind your back, f’me, there you go.” She suckles the tip, anticipating eyes saying more than words could even try to articulate. Y/N’s posture slouches some, arms pressing into her back serving to be much too heavy in her state. “Sit up straight.” Because it’s not ladylike to slouch but it is to suck cock. She listens, taking Harry deeper into her mouth in the process. But he pulls back to push into the side of her cheek. “Pretty,” he swipes his thumb back and forth over the bump.

Y/N’s face twists into a frown, pulling against the resistance of his big hand and off his cock. “I thought…” she breathes in a deep breath, “Please let me. Let me…”

“Why do you want to suck my cock so bad, huh?”

He has an idea. He’s not dim—he knows there are probably floods of thoughts swimming against the tide in her little head. That’s just the way Y/N exists; constantly battling her own mind. And Harry had somewhat decided, earlier that day, that he would go searching for all her buttons. That he would learn her tells as soon as possible in order to keep things smooth sailing.

Of course, learning where someone’s buttons are also means they must be pressed… all at once… and not switched off. Harry isn’t punishing her, per say—he regards it as more of a necessary evil. A process that cannot be ignored.

Y/N certainly isn’t ignoring it. Or she isn’t now. He was impressed with her, in ways. Those sweet attempts at concealing all feeling; at pretending she wasn’t pulsating between the centre of her thighs. Perhaps in order to keep him happy, or to win the silent war they were waging—he’s unsure as of yet. But he’ll find out.

However (and this is precisely why Harry felt the need to do all this) he’s somewhat perturbed by Y/N’s lack of vocalisation of her emotions. Communication, Harry feels, is the most important thing in any sort of relationship. He’s urged her, although perhaps not enough, to tell him how she feels—no matter if he is the one causing those feelings. In fact, that means for even more of a reason to let him know. So that he can make it better. There’s no doubt in Harry’s mind that if Y/N had asked at breakfast to make the ache go away, he would’ve sunk to his knees. And then rewarded her even further just for telling him.

But now they’re here. And Y/N is crumbling, and desperate, and beautiful. Harry squeezes himself, once, twice, around the base of his cock before jutting his hips out just enough to rest the length of him atop of her cheek—and then some. He’s long, and thick, and the pretty girl on the floor for him barely competes for size.

“Hm?” He nudges.

“I wanna make you feel good,” she insists—and Harry doesn’t think she’s lying on purpose… But by omission, maybe. “Sir.” She tacks it on in haste, like the two seconds in which she hadn’t uttered the honourific would result in cruel and unusual punishment.

“Y’want to make me feel good? I see. Even after all my teasing today? You still want to put those pretty lips around me.” The contrast between his cock on her face and the light, scratching strokes he’s giving her head is mind boggling. When she nods, his tip threatens to poke her in the eye. “I’m going to give you… one chance to tell me what you’re actually thinking. Or else I’ll put m’self away and carry on ignoring you.” He doesn’t know if he hallucinates the increasing warmth of her face underneath him.

“Thought if I made you happy… you’d… you’d be pleased with me,” her eyes struggle to maintain contact with his. “And… and make me… y’know...”

“Hm, make you a nice dinner? Make you laugh all bright and bubbly? Make you—”

“Make me come!”

“Ohhh,” he smiles, “how silly of me.” He’s incorrigible. “Well let’s see then, shall we? If you can be a good girl and make me happy.”

She moves her head, mouth open and awaiting. Harry doesn’t tease her anymore—he gathers her hair in both hands, pulls it all away from her face whilst maintaining a controlling grip, and lets her do as she pleases. It’s perfectly imperfect, the way she delicately kisses up his shaft like it’s just been cruelly treated. Her hands stay unusable behind her back and her sultry mouth struggles to know what to do first. He can see the way she wishes she could do everything at once. Kiss him, tongue him, suck him. Harry thinks she could simply breathe on him and he’d feel good.

Y/N falls into a rhythm, soft eyelids closing in contentment as her mouth works around him. Head moving back and forth, slowly but attentively. She rubs her tongue on the underneath of his cock as she takes him, each retreat of her lips sucking tantalisingly. And when she manages to look up at him for just a second, Harry can’t help the quirk of his lips and the twitch of his dick as he mutters praise through quickly thickening fog. She buzzes with it, pushing herself further onto him until she stills in an attempt to adapt to the constricting weight nudging at her throat. When her breaths start to hit Harry harshly, he curls his fingers in her hair and urges her off of him.

“I’m plenty happy enough, my darlin’,” he shakes his head, “don’t choke yourself. We’ll do that another time.” And his words are breathy, sure evidence that he is happy, but Y/N doesn’t feel satisfied. She wants to see his tummy quivering underneath his t-shirt, wants to hear him pant, and groan, and lose all semblance of himself. She moans around him, at the promise of him filling her throat, at the sight of his glowing face and dishevelled hair. And then she speeds up. She feels the saliva collecting in her mouth and she lets it cover him—she moves her head in urgent bobs and digs her nails into her palm when Harry grunts.

“Oh, fuck,” he looks down at the shine she’s leaving behind around him. “Sweet little thing’s got a filthy mouth.” Spit drips down her chin and he thumbs it away, wiping it on his shorts. It makes her go even faster. “Good girl—shit. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” Y/N whines around him, eyebrows dipping in delight from his words alone. Her core is numbing, sure she must’ve dripped onto the floor and yet she doesn’t have it in her to be embarrassed. Not when all she can think about is making Harry come.

But he’s mean. He says, “You’ll get up then, won’t you?” voice lilting.

What? “Mm-mm,” she shakes her head, disgruntled that he’d even suggest it, and pushing further down his cock in retaliation.

“No? But I thought you were a good girl. Good girls listen. So listen to me… and get up.” He drags her off by the hands in her hair, feeling smug when she gasps down multitudes of air. She’s annoyed—swollen, slick lips pouting—no aversions to showing how she truly feels now. “Don’t look so sad,” he mimics her pout, fingers squeezing her cheeks together as she stands on wobbly legs. Then he kisses her rumpled lips, tastes himself and her saliva and rubs his tongue on hers. Bless her heart, she keeps her arms behind her, melting into Harry’s grasp and forgetting all about her own limbs. His grip finds her waist, tugging her up his body and coaxing her thighs to wrap around him. He hums against her lips, content to feel her pressing into him… then her dress rides up and… oh—

“You poor thing,” Harry gasps, when his prick nudges very soft, very wet skin. “Just dripping and you didn’t say a word. Is that very sweet or very selfish?” Y/N can only whimper as their flesh meets. “You’re not selfish, are you, baby?”

“No.” She shakes her head vehemently, hands finally moving of their own accord and sitting on Harry’s shoulders.

He exhales a humoured breath through his nose. “Ah well, you see, I consider myself to be rather selfish. I want things. Do you… want things, Y/N?”

“Yes,” fingers sliding into curls, “want you. Please, Sir, want you.”

He can feel the heat of her pussy. All he’d need to do is nudge his hips forward… “Why didn’t you ask me earlier, hm? See how easy that was? S’all you needed to do was ask.” Y/N nods, apology on the tip of her tongue, but Harry kisses her again before she can talk. And then he’s moving—taking her somewhere—she’s unsure where. It doesn’t matter. She hears the rubber soles of his shoes against the floor, a door sliding open, the chirps of a bird from nearby. And then she feels the soft cushion of a chair as she is placed down upon it.

Y/N opens her eyes, reluctantly, as she hears Harry zipping himself back up. She curves her lips downwards as she leans back, expecting to feel a support, but she falls. Not far. The chair seems to be of the reclining sort, and Y/N’s back moulds into the soft fabric. Harry smiles… and then he’s digging his fingers into the supple flesh of her thighs, pulling her down towards him, and flipping her over. Y/N squeals, palms pressing down to push herself up.

“Hips up,” he swats her thigh, “back arched, good girl. Relax your arms, put ‘em out in front of you.” She focuses on the sight of a pool out of the peripheral of her vision, crystal clear water, pretty bushes, a coffee table under an awning—trying to keep her heart steady as Harry flips her dress up. There’s no hiding now. She’s completely bare and he can see everything. Y/N hides her face in her arms at the feeling of the breeze against her. That breeze becomes warmer, and more pointed, and suddenly it meets her directly—the swipe of a tongue through strings of slick. She jolts forward but Harry tugs her right back, kneeling at the end of the recliner with his face mere centimetres away from her swollen sex. “Don’t move. Don’t try and run away from me unless you want to play like this morning.” Y/N makes a little noise—it’s forced from her lungs, really, at the reminder of the heat his hands left behind. So she tries something, just a little something… she moves. She twitches her hips forward so slightly, he shouldn’t have noticed. But it’s Harry. And he knows that she wants to play like this morning very much.

So he smacks her. Hard. Right in the middle of her left cheek. Something akin to a choked squawk leaves her mouth and she jumps forward once again. So he hits her other cheek, “Stop,” again, “moving,” and again.

“Harry!” Y/N gasps—half moan, half cry. It burns deliciously.

“Keep still for me. I want to eat this pretty cunt,” he breaths over her, taking her in. “You remember your Yellow and Red, yes?” He looks up the expanse of her back.

“Yes—Sir,” Y/N forces out, lungs going at a rapid rate. Every word is a struggle.

“Good girl.”

And then he devours her.

Y/N is grateful he put something soft beneath her, because she struggles not to flatten out immediately. Despite the possessive grip Harry displays over her waist and on her thigh. She’s at the halfway point—of still feeling scrutinised and losing all inhibitions. Embarrassment being a turn on surely makes that line a little silly to place herself upon. But she forgets her thought process entirely with Harry’s tongue flicking between her legs. He’d gone straight in, initially, mouth meeting her centre with no motive other than to taste and to feel her on his lips. He kisses her—as much as one can there—open mouthed and impassioned, trailing from left to right over her thighs… then up to her ass that to Y/N’s curious horror he spreads, coming close but never right where she wanted him.

Did she though? Want him there? The thought has never crossed her mind before but the closer he gets the more her hips shift. But Harry only kisses the skin of her round flesh, moving back down to spread her lips and take a good look at her. The moment of waiting feels like years to Y/N. Years of being pulled apart and stared at like she is tied to a pedestal. Then he hums, deep from within his chest, and sucks her clit into his mouth. She lets out a long, pitiful moan, face dropping to the cushion with a thud. Her body must be moving—shaking or twitching—but she can’t tell. Not when Harry is holding her thighs with his thumbs still spreading her open, and switching between pulling her into his mouth and smoothing his tongue over her. In languid motions that start to unravel Y/N incredibly quickly.

He stays slow—which is something she envies, really—the ability to heighten an orgasm by dragging it out. Y/N always finds, and she’s not the best at masturbating anyway, that in the midst of the pleasure she speeds up her hands with the incoming sense of her climax. And it never feels completely satiating. But Harry… of course he knows what he’s doing better than her. But God, does he prove it. It builds so steadily; the pleasure elongated and intensified as Y/N grapples with her hands to find any sort of grounding. She pushes up, and then falls back down. She stretches her arms out, and then pulls them back to her chest. It’s a restless kind of pleasure—it’s disabling and wonderful and shattering and—

Harry pulls away. The sensation is so jarring that Y/N forgets all semblance of the concept of composure. She cries out and turns herself over. Her brows furrow so hard she’ll surely induce a headache and her wet mouth is open in the most betrayed of gapes.

“Please,” she reaches forward. For Harry who stays kneeling. He cocks an eyebrow at her.

“Were you about to come?”

Y/N could roll her eyes. “Yes! Please, please make me come.” Her hand falls down against the cushion fruitlessly.

Harry pushes up higher on his knees, caressing palms smoothing up her calves until they reach her thighs and sling them over each of his shoulders. Y/N’s head falls back with relief. But he reaches up and grabs her face, angling her head upright so that he can slide two fingers into her mouth. She whimpers in surprise, heat rushing all around her body. His index and little finger rest on either side of her face as he strokes her tongue in depraved motions, sliding over the expanse of the wet muscle.

“What do we say when we want something?”

“Pleathe,” Y/N begs… except she doesn’t really because the word comes out garbled and unintelligible. But Harry smiles.

“Hm?”

“Pleathe!”

Then he slaps her thigh and Y/N yelps around his fingers. “Please what?”

“Thir.” Her eyes clear a little as she tries to inhale. “Pleathe make me come, thir.”

No matter that it’s near impossible to identify her words, Harry is pleased. He pulls his hand away to let her take a few deep breaths, and then he’s coaxing them back in with a little grin. Y/N seems eager for them, tongue laying down for his fingers. “That’s better.” And then she bites them. Not hard, but her teeth press into the skin enough to indent as Harry’s mouth meets her slick centre once again. He keeps his eyes focused on hers and his tongue on her clit—flattening out to collect her arousal from her messy entrance before smearing it over her sensitive button and building her back up agonisingly slowly. She climbs higher and he pulls back, teeth sinking into the inside of her thigh and lips trailing her wetness everywhere, stubble scratching her in a lusciously painful way. His palm stays flattened to her hip, holding her firmly to his face. Until he leans back just enough to purse his lips and drip saliva down onto her shiny pussy. Y/N gasps around his fingers and Harry smirks into her skin as he presses his face back into her, eyes never wavering from hers.

It builds up much quicker now, regardless of the excruciating pace that Harry sets. She tightens up, body desperate as her pelvis lifts up into his mouth. “Pleathe!” Y/N’s eyes clench shut. “Pleathe let me come, thir.” Harry smiles at her incoherent speech and doesn’t stop. He hums instead, long and deep, vibrations tingling through his face and her cunt. Y/N’s harsh breaths hit his knuckles, shallow from her nose. Her hands find his wrist, clinging on as Harry nods into her—not pulling away for a second.

“Ah!—ah—ah,” tiny noises are all she can muster as her eyes beg Harry not to stop and her orgasm dangles her over the edge. Just a bit more… a bit more… don’t stop. Her thighs tighten around his head and Harry moans, grateful to be crushed by such beauty. And if Y/N could speak she’d be more than grateful—she’d be at his feet, she’d pledge to make him happy forever. As long as she came.

And all it takes is one more long hum, fizzling through her clit. Her nails dig into his wrist and her hips surely lift up enough to suffocate him as her orgasm rips through her. It’s blinding…and stilling; Y/N can neither see nor move for five paralysing seconds. Then the sounds seep past Harry’s fingers and her pelvis starts to shake, and the lack of satiating inhalation proves to make her lightheaded. She tugs at his hand to pull it out of her mouth, drowning her lungs in oxygen when Harry complies. But she’s high, head throwing back against the cushion and eyes falling shut as her chest heaves and her body tingles. Y/N misses the way Harry moves his spit-slicked hand down to her puffy core, lips pulled away to give some semblance of respite… until he pushes his two middle fingers into her and curls.

“Oh!” She jolts upright. “No, Harry, I—” her words fall away. The pressure is consuming as his digits press into her, forcing this unprecedented, extended pleasure out of her. And it’s good but… Y/N’s certain she’ll pass out if he takes anymore from her, “—need—a moment,” her back arches and her hands finally search for him. To push away or pull him closer, she is unsure.

Harry retracts his fingers, leaving a kiss to Y/N’s stomach as he gently places her feet flat on the lounger. “Yeah? That’s okay.” The skirt of her dress sits under her ribs and Harry traces the line of skin underneath with the pad of his thumb. “Was that a lot?”

“Mhm,” she nods, struggling to peel her eyelids open for long enough to look down at him. Who slowly stands and lifts her calves to rest across his lap as he seats himself at the foot of the recliner.

“G’na let me fuck you or do you want to stop?” He asks it so casually, as though they’re in the line at the supermarket and he’s offering to let her go before him. The centre of her legs is buzzing—she’s messy and can feel sweat gathering underneath her arms—but she wants more. She wants his pleasure now.

Y/N nods. “Your turn.”

He smiles, “My turn to be eaten out? I wouldn’t say no.” She giggles but it’s to mask a gasp as her eyes widen and her stomach fills with heat. “Let me go grab a condom,” his delicate touches form goosebumps along her arms whilst she nods dumbly.

The urge to cover her face with her hands and laugh is strong. She doesn’t. She presses her lips together instead, hard enough to feel her teeth indenting from the inside, as she watches the wind create ripples in the swimming pool before her. Y/N pulls her dress over her thighs; to tease Harry or herself, she’s not certain but it feels mischievous to do either way. To force him to rediscover the treasure between her legs. To make herself desirable once more.

Not that she doesn’t feel desirable. In the afterglow of her orgasm, Y/N’s sure she’s never felt as pretty—practically glowing and all pliant on Harry’s sun lounger. But if hiding the place Harry wants to see most, makes him lose a little composure? She smiles harder at the thought.

ㅤㅤ

His shirt is missing when he comes back, revealing the hard plains of skin and muscle that Y/N would spend hours tracing if she could. The broad of his shoulders, dusted in delicate freckles—contrasted by the full of his pecs and the stone ridges of his abs that soften into plush hips that beg to withhold the indentations of fingertips. It’s all radiant to Y/N. The sunlight paints the shadows of leaves onto his front as he makes his way back to her. His shorts are considerably tight, tenting obviously. She struggles not to stare. Especially because she knows what's underneath… and wants nothing more than to consume him again.

He looks cheeky, hands behind his back (Y/N truly hasn’t noticed because his arms bulge with the strain and any observation skills she may have possessed become completely redundant at the sight of his thick biceps) whilst he smiles at her reclining body. He stops to the side of her. “I’ve got something for you.”

Y/N looks up at him, eyes curious. “Oh. What is it?”

Harry drops a velvet baggy into her lap, watching with an attentive gaze as she loosens the drawstrings hesitantly. “It’s small and unassuming, yeah?”

A bullet vibrator. “I’ve never used one before,” she admits, cheeks hot and heartbeat racing.

“That’s not on, is it, love? You g’na hold this right here f’me?” He takes it from her and sneaks under her dress, tapping once where it's sensitive. She jolts. “Right over your pretty clit whilst I fuck you?”

She nods, mewl lodged in her throat. “Thank—thank you… Sir.”

A deep hum and a kiss to her head before he says, “Go on then, show me,” kneeling onto the end of the recliner, palms smoothing up her thighs to push the encroaching fabric out of the way. Y/N lets him put the vibrator in her hand, his eyes kind despite the excitement coursing through his veins. She thinks for a second—difficult under normal circumstances but even harder now—and brings the small cylinder to her mouth, pushing the rounded tip past her lips and forcing her stare not to wander from Harry’s. He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, all gentle smiles and easy eyes dripping into molten liquid. His pupils blossom and his fingers stop their trailing across her skin as Y/N slicks the vibrator up with her tongue.

It’s overwhelming; the tremors that hit her oversensitive bundle of nerves. She pulls it away as soon as she turns it on, a loud gasp sounding out around them. “Can’t,” Y/N shakes her head.

“Yes, you can, baby. For me.” It’s likely she would do anything as long as Harry asked she do it for him. He unzips his shorts, pushing them down his thighs along with his briefs, thick hardness begging for attention. He’s a harsh blushing colour, and veins stand out against the taut skin, pearls of precome shining from the slit and coating the head deliciously. Y/N feels herself clench around nothing, the weight of the calm vibrator suddenly a very welcome sensation. Harry pulls a condom out of the pocket of his shorts and rolls it on. “Turn it on,” he demands, rubbing the thick mushroom tip of his cock around her entrance, smearing arousal.

She takes a deep breath, eyes cast downwards to the sight of Harry pushing himself in just past the opening and pulling out. In and out. In and out. Teasing. Torturing. Y/N switches the vibrator on, immediately writhing under the overstimulation, just as Harry rocks in to the hilt—hips meeting and breaths mingling when he bends over her body. Strong hands grip the underside of her knees, folding them to her chest and granting the most stimulating of angles.

Her grip on the bullet is weak, unable to maintain placement as it slips down to press into Harry’s shaft as he thrusts into her slow and hard. He groans from the sensation before gripping her wrist and tugging up—back directly on her clit. Y/N moans, head shaking and hips squirming, but Harry only digs his fingers into her thighs and pushes them further into her chest.

“You’re so—fuck—so wet, darlin’. Can’t fuck you or I’ll slip out,” he grunts, pulling out to the tip painfully slowly before skin slaps as he fills her back up heavily. It expels all the air out of Y/N’s lungs, his every thrust jolting her entire body. “Clench f’me. Hold me in, baby.”

Y/N mewls, tightening her pelvic floor and making Harry groan out as he smears his mouth over hers. She doesn’t know what to focus on. His lips scattering tingles all over her face, the harsh buzzing of the vibrator on her clit, the vast span of his fingers indenting her skin, or the heavy thrusts of his cock into her tightness. Over, and over, and over again. She moans into his mouth, crying out as he speeds up. His palm slips over the bottom of her stomach and presses down in search of something.

He pounds into her harder when he feels it. “In your tummy. So fucking deep inside you, pretty girl.” Y/N can’t speak, she can’t do anything but whine out helplessly as Harry pushes his palm into the bulge he’s swelling. Her orgasm starts to build—the convulsing sensitivity of her clit has surpassed to a near numbness—she knows she won’t be able to come again after this. But as she looks down and Harry moves his hand for her to see each thrust, Y/N throws her head back.

“Come all over my cock, baby. Squeeze me so hard I see stars.”

And she’s convulsing, vibrator falling away from the immense sensation of it all—chest heaving, fingers reaching out to dig into Harry’s biceps as she shatters around him. “Harry! Thank you—thank you—th— thank you.” Tears slip out of her tightly shut eyes, wet lips hanging open as her arms grow numb and they fall atop her ribs.

He’s grunting, low and gravelly, curls falling over his forehead like cascading waterfalls of chocolate. His hips don’t falter as he gathers her into his bulging arms. Y/N’s still twitching from the aftershocks when he stands up, fingers splaying on her ass and encouraging her legs to wrap around him. The vibrator stays buzzing on the sun lounger, falling on deaf ears as Y/N clings on and Harry fucks up into her. If she hadn’t just come she’s sure his display of strength would have her drooling.

And she’s close to drooling now. Involuntarily from the pace in which he sets, forcing her to grip onto his shoulders. She smooths the backs of her arms over them, shaking fingers weaving into the hair on the back of his head.

Harry is relentless. “Good girl. Such a good girl. You take it so well. I’m so proud of you.” She keens into his throat, tired smile stretching against his neck. The words warm her.

I’m so proud of you.

She’s elated, she’ll never ask for anything ever again… But she wants one more thing.

“Come in my mouth, Sir.” Her voice tickles against his ear. So shy, so unsure. Harry’s knees nearly buckle.

“Is that a demand, little one?” Fuck, he’d give it to her even if it was.

“Please?” His hips snap up harder, their skin is slapping and sticking, and their bodies are going numb.

“You want me coating your tongue, yeah? You w’na swallow me?”

“Yes, Sir,” she nods desperately.

Harry pulls her off him, setting her down onto the hard floor as gently as his sex-muddled brain can offer. He tugs the condom off, shoving it into a pocket of the shorts he never managed to take off. Y/N opens her mouth obediently, her tired eyes fighting to stay open and watch Harry’s frantic strokes. His head thrown back, jaw sharp and veins in his neck jumping—she’d be a fool not to look.

“God, want you here forever. On your knees f’me,” he looks down at her glowing, sweating skin. “Want to keep you,” his voice trails off into a moan, shuffling forward so the leaking head rests on her tongue as he tugs his length. “Will you let me keep you, Y/N?” She nods, tongue moving on the underside of him. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

It’s her eyes that get him. Big and pleading. Like the only thing she’s ever wanted in her entire existence is for him to come for her. In her mouth. Her eyes… and maybe her tits too. When she pulls the pretty décolletage of her dress down to free them and holds the underside as if to display them for Harry. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he whimpers, leaning forward to spurt thick streaks onto the back of her tongue and watch it drip down. His other hand shoots out to hold the top of her head, strokes slowing and becoming little ruts of his hips when it all becomes too sensitive.

Y/N kneels there for him, mouth open, come painting her tongue. It’s only when he thumps his softening cock against the mess he’s left that she pulls back, making a show of swallowing it all. He’s spent but the sight is one to behold. She smiles shyly up at him, so clearly overjoyed. “Thank you, Sir.”

ㅤㅤ

During their shower, he asks her an important question.

“Was there anything I did to you that you didn’t like?”

Y/N is nearly a deadweight in his arms—so exhausted, so sweet—as she blinks up at him. “Hm?”

Harry smiles. “Did I push your boundaries at all today?”

She nuzzles into his chest, shaking her head, as they stand under the hot stream. “No, Sir.”

“You liked the vibrator?” Harry drags his soapy nails across her back, scratching wonderfully.

“Sore now. Too much, I think,” Y/N admits, as she tightens her arms around his waist. She’s fighting the fog and failing. Harry doesn’t mind.

He hums. “Abused her a little, didn’t I? We can work on that, if you like.”

“Mhm. Anything, Sir.” Then suddenly she pulls back, looking up with harsh brows. “Didn’t like how much you ignored me… down there. Wanted to come all day.”

Harry laughs, “That,” he emphasises, “is something you’ll have to put up with, darling. S’fun to play with you—watch you silently suffer. Promise it won’t be all the time. If only you’d just asked for what you wanted.” Y/N grumbles to herself, basking in the serenity of their touching skin and the clean smell of shower gel as the hot water cleanses them.

The next thing Harry says is unwise. In Y/N’s floaty state, and generally as a rule of healthy relationships, it’s unwise—but he says it anyway.

“You should quit your job.”

She doesn’t register his words immediately, but even when she does, Harry doesn’t receive the expected reaction. She laughs, “Yeah,” sighing. “Can stay in your house all day. Make you happy, whatever you want, all the time.” It feels like she’s joking—like she believes he’s joking and is just playing along—and Harry knew better than to suggest it to her in this moment. He knew better, especially because they were hardly any time at all into knowing one another. It was a rash thing to say… and Harry can’t quite believe he’s thinking it. But he is. He’s thinking it very much. And it feels right. It seems easy.

But he won’t mention it again. Not yet. Not until the girl in his arms is a little less incoherent.

He’s a patient man, is what he tells himself. There’s no rush; Harry certainly isn’t desperate to rush out of the shower, or rush Y/N home, or rush to work the next day. He can wait.

He can wait.

ㅤㅤ

Working with people takes a particular set of skills. Sociability, quick thinking, a strong backbone... Y/N wouldn’t say she particularly possessed any of these qualities—which would largely explain why she hates her job so much.

But she gets up and does it. Every day. And she returns home feeling as though it can’t get any worse, and then the next day proves her wrong.

Despite this, you’d think—after all the practice she has—that entering Harry’s work shouldn’t be so intimidating. That having to ask for him at reception whilst holding a lunch box and a cake tin needn’t stir up the incessant swirls of nerves in her stomach. And even though the woman who tends to her has a soothing smile and a lilting tone of voice, Y/N still stands there feeling obvious. Obvious and unaware at the same time.

Would Harry even want her here? Was showing her face in his workspace breaching a rule? Did he leave his lunch behind on purpose? Would he want the cake she’d brought with her?

The receptionist talks to someone on the phone, announcing Y/N’s presence and her request to see the CEO. She’d thought, perhaps, that she would be immediately denied. Mr. Styles is a very busy man and he doesn’t take surprise visits. Good day. But the lady had smiled almost knowingly at Y/N, as though she’d been expecting her—which seemed even vastly more silly than the prospect that Harry might turn her away himself.

Which hadn’t crossed her mind until now. What if he scolded her? In front of all his employees? Y/N would die.

A man suddenly appears in her peripheral vision. Hair tied back, suit pressed of all wrinkles, and a harsh line of a mouth that curls so minimally that it could be passed off as a twitch when he meets Y/N’s eyes. “Follow me, Miss L/N.”

He takes her up stairs, through halls and to a small sitting area that she assumes is outside Harry’s office. One sofa and one armchair, adjacent to a water cooler and a vending machine in which two other men in pressed suits loiter, trading inconsequential small talk no doubt. And really, it is too small to be considered an area of any sort, and their looming presence does nothing to quell Y/N’s worry.

“He’s just finishing up a phone call, please sit.”

Y/N smiles at the man and rushes out a small thank you before he disappears down the hallway. The soft cushioning of the sofa cradles Y/N’s heart none, despite the silent appraisal her legs give when they’re granted respite. No, her heart is still beating rapidly, and the mumblings of the two men are pecking away at her ears as she tries to block them out without success. She sees one nudge the other out of the corner of her eye, and she hopes—no, begs—that neither talk to her. But it seems there’s no one there to listen to her pleading.

“Excuse me.” One of the men says. Typically those words come attached with a questioning swing but he doesn’t ask her anything. He demands her. “What have you got in there?”

Y/N slides her palms around the spherical tin, the cold metal granting momentary bliss for her clammy skin. On top of the tin is Harry’s lunch. In the box he’d forgotten to take with him on his way out.

Y/N had a day off—calling her boss to fake sickness had been scarier than it should have been (Harry rewarded her for her bravery in ways she can still feel if she clenches her thighs together)—and Harry had ordered she lay about his house all day doing, and she quotes, absolutely nothing.

He’d silently managed to pick up on her preference for a little time alone when talking and coexisting got to be too much (after observing the way she’d spend just that little extra in the toilet after a long day, or insist she’d be with him in a minute that turned into three), and had asserted she finally explore the depths of his garden whilst he was at work. Y/N had thought about asking him to stay home—after all, she only took the day off because of him… and now he was leaving?—but the idea did appeal to her. And he’d kissed her so fervently goodbye that the shape of his lips existed in tingles against hers for an hour after he’d gone.

She’d felt whimsical, like she was existing in a dream, as she slipped on a new dress Harry had bought for her—made of pink silk—and floated around his house like she owned it. She ate fruit whilst perched on his kitchen counter, and sunk her toes into his fluffy rug, and wandered the garden that surely Harry had stolen from another era.

From the patio that leads out to the pool (and those sun loungers that Y/N can’t look at the same), nothing about the vast stretch of grass and towering trees suggested that there were any hidden passageways or undiscovered alcoves. But as Y/N walked down the lawn, she spotted an archway twined with ivy and vines that nestled in between consuming bushes and thick trunks.

Once she walked under it, it seemed as though she’d entered another time period—one that rejected the modernity of white interior decor and lavish patios with swimming pools. A nook—was what Y/N first described it as in her head. A walkway through foliage that led to an opening that homed stone, and trellising flowers, and complete and utter silence. It was circular, a donut shaped stone bench in the centre with bushes and flowers galore surrounding it. Y/N was stunned. And she hadn’t even discovered all of it.

“It’s Harry’s lunch,” she says, focusing on maintaining steady breaths.

The men look at each other with curling lips. “It’s Harry’s lunch,” the other one parrots, nodding once to his friend like her answer was obvious… which it was, she supposes. What else would it be? “Did he forget it at your house?”

“No…” Y/N doesn’t understand what the pair are trying to do. But she recognises the cruelty of their voices. The mocking—immensely unlike the way Harry speaks to her.

“Did you bake him a cake too?”

“Has Styles got himself a little housewife?”

Her skin heats and her chest aches, as their words crawl inside her head, with the intensity at which she is trying to school her lungs. They want to inhale as though she’s been underwater for twenty minutes. They want to heave and splutter desperately and loudly. But she only allows tiny, little teases of oxygen. She doesn’t know what to say.

Her mouth opens and closes again.

“Fancy coming round to my house and baking me a cake?” They both laugh. “I could do with a little lady like you. Always forgetting shit.”

She fidgets uncomfortably on the sofa. It is now made of unrelenting stone. Even the bench in Harry’s garden would grant more comfort than this. A quick glance to the door handle to see if she is capable of summoning him only encourages the men further.

“I didn’t know he had time for a woman.”

“I know,” the other scoffs, “probably very neglectful of his nice housewife…” He pauses, “Are you? His housewife, sugar?”

It had sounded so much nicer from Harry’s lips. Now she just feels dirty.

“No— I’m… We’re…” What were they exactly?

Harry’s door handle turns.

“I’m his—” Submissive. She couldn’t possibly…

His door opens.

“—friend.”

Harry steps out. Y/N doesn’t know how much of the conversation he heard but… from the look on his face, he’s stern. The two men have straightened their backs and are pretending to be involved in unrealistically riveting small talk once again. But Harry glares at them.

His voice is hard, clearly indicating that he had in fact heard their unpleasant probing. “Mr. Acosta and Mr. Havers, as pleasurable as it has been to have you working here,” his tone drips with sarcasm, “resign or be fired. Immediately. Your choice.”

And then he’s glancing down at Y/N, gaze hardly lingering as he nods towards his office with a clear expectancy that she follows, before he turns his back and leaves the water cooler creeps spluttering in their spots. Y/N rushes behind him, not looking back for a second.

“You forgot your lunch,” she exhales once his door clicks shut. Her breathing deepens now that she’s out of the prying stare of those men. Harry stands with his back to her, hands in his pockets as he looks out the window.

“Yes, I see that.” He seems… short-tempered... Angry. He’s never seemed angry before. “Thank you, darling. And a lovely baked treat to go with it, no doubt.”

And maybe his voice lacks his usual authenticity but Y/N smiles a little, though he can’t see her, as she creeps forward slightly to place the tin and his lunch on his desk. She looks up as she stands beside him, observing the harsh line of his jaw and the furrow of his brows. But he walks around his desk and prods a finger into the hardwood, rolling his chair out of the way.

“Take a seat,” he orders. Y/N always obeys Harry but his tone carries a sharpness she’s not used to—lacking the soft feathered curves for when he speaks to her—and she lifts herself onto the edge with a haste that surpasses that of her general avidity. Perhaps, in this moment, a part of her is pretending he’s her boss—and he is in a way, she supposes. Then Harry crowds her senses, thighs brushing her knees as he steps forward and utters something that makes Y/N’s stomach drop. In a bad way. In a definitely bad way.

“I want to have a little chat with… my friend.”

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

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xsublimelimex · 4 months

Text

CW: pee/messing & breastfeeding kink

Disclaimer: all characters depicted in this story are consenting adults over the age of 18. If you are NOT 18 or older, click away now!

Little droplets of sweat roll down between my breasts from the heat of the sun beaming down on me. I’m currently elbow deep in my garden and have been for an hour or so.

I sit back in my heels and look at my sweet little girl laying on her stomach soaking up the sun and the beautiful warm weather. Today I dressed her in the tiniest Jean shorts I could find and a little pink bikini top covering her small breasts. She looks absolutely delicious in her outfit I can hardly wait to get my hands on her.

Today my pretty little girlfriend decided she wanted to be a big girl and only wear her training panties no pull-up. I was a but skeptical because I know my sweet Angel usually can’t hold herself but she begged me and I’ve been trying to potty train her so I agreed but not before instilling in her how important it is for her to tell me when she needs the potty. So far so good, there’s been no accidents.

She looks so beautiful laid out on her tummy her soft skin glistening in the sunlight. I check my watch and decide it’s time to go inside and have a snack. I pull off my gloves and walk over to my sweet baby. I hear her little grunts and immediately know what’s happening, she’s having an accident!

I rush to her side and between her legs is soaked in her yellow piss her Jean shorts completely soaked through. “Aw sweetheart you had a little accident hmm?” I coo at her and she immediately pops her head up and looks at me her eyes wide. “Mommy I didn’t mean too!!! I forgot I had to go pee and it just came out, I promise I meant to call for you!” She says in a rush with tears in her eyes.

I sit on my knees beside her head and caress her hair. “It’s okay my love accidents happen that’s why I like to have you in pull-ups but it’s okay sweet girl.” She nuzzles her face against my knee and sighs before groaning. “Uh oh does my sweet girl need to go poopies?” I question her. She nods against my knee and curls her legs up into her belly on her side. “I need to go poopies really bad mommy I dunno if I can make it to the potty my tummy hurts so bad.” She whines and stuffs her thumb in her mouth. My poor baby girl.

“It’s okay sweetheart why don’t you go poopies in your undies.” I say and she looks up at me uncertain but I stroke her face softly. “It’s okay sweetie mommy will clean you up don’t you worry about a thing just use your undies and go potty in them.” She nods and suckles her thumb harder making grunting noises as she attempts to squeeze her poop out. I need to feel her push out this big load so I put my hand right above her Jean shorts where I know her little butthole is my fingers resting right over her pussy hole and wait. She pushes her butt against my hand obviously stimulated by my hand between her pretty legs.

“Keep making pushies Sweet Girl come on. Mommy knows you can do it.” I encourage her pressing down on her hole. She whines and moans just as her big load pushes out into my hand. “Good girl! You did so well for mommy I’m so very proud of you honey.” I praise as I pull her up onto my lap. She straddles me and squished her mess against her ass as she presses down on my lap. I push her up and held her grind herself against me. Loving the sounds of her mess squishing.

She mouths at my chest using her hands to squeeze my heavy tits. I help her unbutton my top and immediately pulls my left tit out and slips my fat nipple into her mouth. She sucks hard and sighs in content when my milk fills her mouth. Her gulps audible as she suckles. The sound is so fucking erotic my pussy is throbbing in need.

I caress her face as she suckles. “You see sweet girl” I squeeze her messy butt. “This is why you need to wear a diapie, no more panties for you. You hear me missy?” I say softly but sternly. She looks up at my with her big doe eyes and nods with my nipple still squeezed in between her lips inside her warm wet mouth.

#piss kink #omorashi #mommydom #gentle fem dom #ab/dl diaper #md/lb blog #md/lb community #md/lg blog #md/lg community #mdlbkink #mdlb blog #mdlgmommy #breastfeedingkink #breastfeeding kink #breastfeeding

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vanteguccir · 2 months

Text

Medium girl | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader | Nick and Chris Sturniolo x reader (platonic)

Summary: Where Y/N is a medium and Matt's girlfriend. She is invited to participate in the collab between Sam & Colby and the Sturniolo Triplets but ends up being targeted by ghosts all night.

Warning: Paranormal, supernatural, ghosts, mediumship.

Requested?: No.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

PS.: I spent long hours writing this, I was so excited because of the video and how this would come out! I hope you guys like it ♡

PS. 2: Another version of this same "universe" that I wrote.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Guys, today we have some very special guests. You literally spent months asking us to do a collaboration with them." Colby said as he walked through the Driskill Hotel Hall with Sam at his side holding the camera. "The Sturniolo Triplets and Y/N!" The brunette finished, pointing to the four mentioned while the camera lens focused on them.

The duo had just finished their initial presentation of the channel and the place where they were, happy to finally do something that their fans had asked for so much.

"Are you guys excited?" Colby asked, clasping his hands in front of his chest as he looked at them with excitement on his features.

"Super excited." The triplets responded at the same time, smiling broadly.

"Very!" Y/N responded from beside Matt, her left hand rested on the brunette's covered back while Matt's right arm wrapped around her shoulder.

"Are you guys scared, nervous, or just excited?" Colby asked again, looking briefly at the camera.

"I'm scared." Chris responded quickly, his hands resting on his waist.

"I'm terrified." Nick admitted without reservation, receiving laughter from everyone there.

"I'm super excited, a little nervous, but super excited." Y/N spoke, nodding as a smile spread across her face.

"We wanted to ask this to you specifically. You're a medium, right?" Sam asked from behind the camera, adjusting it in his hands so that the lens caught the four of them and Colby, but with the focus on Y/N.

"Yes I am." The girl nodded.

"She's Lorraine Warren herself." Nick interrupted, pointing briefly at Y/N with his left hand.

"It's not that big of a deal, Nick." She rolled her eyes, not holding back her smile when she saw the boys laughing at the oldest of the triplets' joke.

"But you're good, right? We watched some videos and podcasts of the triplets, and they commented a few times in them about you being a medium." Colby took the lead, looking at her carefully, hoping she could help them with the investigation of that video.

"She is great." Matt spoke before Y/N could open her mouth, carrying a big smile on his face and a proud look in his eyes.

"I don't consider myself great." The girl rolled her eyes at her boyfriend's comment, feeling her cheeks heat up. "I've always had this 'power'." She made the quotation mark gesture with her hands. "I can see, hear, and feel. I remember that when I was a child, I didn't understand anything, and I was scared to death, especially because people said that only I could do those things, I felt crazy. Until my mother took me to my grandmother when I was 9 years old, and they explained it to me together. My grandmother was a great medium, and apparently, that passed on to me." She explained briefly.

"So you can do all three? And you have control over them?" Sam asked from behind the camera again.

"It depends on what the spirit or demon wants. I can feel anything, both energy and proximity. As for hearing or seeing, it depends on whether the spirit wants me to see or hear them. But when they want, I do all three perfectly, everything becomes very clear to me, as if they were really there in the flesh." Y/N explained, receiving nods from Nick and Chris, who were next to her paying attention to her words, even though they already knew that.

"And how do you react to that? You live together, right?" Colby turned to the brothers, bringing their attention to them.

"Yes, we always knew that Y/N was a medium since we all grew up together in Boston. When we moved in together after moving to LA, we not only knew, but we started living it." Nick began explaining, his eyes going from his brothers to Sam and Colby.

"Yes, she never went into much detail about what she saw or heard because we were always a little scared-"

"You're all pussy's." Y/N cut Chris off, releasing the sentence with a smirk on her face. Colby laughed loudly, shaking his head.

"Thank you, my love." Matt scoffed, getting a "your welcome" in return.

"It has become normal for us to be talking to her, and out of nowhere, she looks at a specific point that, for us, has nothing. Or she stops paying attention to what we are saying to listen to something that someone from beyond is saying." Chris continued after rolling his eyes at his sister-in-law, already used to her jokes.

"Yes, it's scary. Sometimes, she wakes up in the middle of the night and stares into space, sitting on top of our bed. I just pull the blanket over my head and pretend I'm not seeing it happening." Y/N slapped Matt's arm after his comment, muttering a "best boyfriend ever".

"Do you think you'll be able to capture the movements here well?" Colby turned to her, looking at her with a curious look.

"I hope so. I'm hopeful that they will be open to me and show me what I need to know." Y/N nodded, breaking into a smile.

Matt moved his right hand down to Y/N's left, intertwining their fingers and caressing his girlfriend's soft skin with his thumb, knowing how much she was looking forward to the video and wanting to feel helpful, even if she didn't need to be a super medium for this.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The six were now standing near the staircase where Samantha had apparently died after chasing a ball and tripping, rolling down the stairs.

Sam was standing on the second step while Matt and Chris were on the left side of the staircase, Matt leaning on the handrail, and Nick on the right side as they listened to the blonde's explanation.

Y/N was a little further away, Sam's voice was muffled to her while her ears picked up indecipherable whispers from all sides, as if many people were trying to ask for help, explain what happened at the hotel and sending hateful comments at the same time.

Matt's presence approaching her broke her from her trance, making her look up at him, seeing his worried expression.

"Is everything okay, baby?" He asked in a low voice, not wanting to attract the attention of the others.

"Yeah, I'm just trying to get a feel of the environment." Y/N responded in the same tone of voice, smiling softly, trying to calm her boyfriend and herself.

She was already used to seeing and hearing spirits since she had done it all her life, but this experience was different from any other she had ever had.

Nick looked at her momentarily, asking her if she was okay with just a move of his lips, receiving a nod in return.

Y/N decided to get closer to the others so she could focus on their main mission there, receiving answers from the spirits through the lanterns.

"Samantha, are you the only one up here on the stairs?" Matt asked after the boys asked several questions, his right hand holding Y/N's, trying to convey comfort.

"No." Y/N replied seconds before the red flashlight turned on, receiving looks from the five on her.

"Do you see any other ghosts up here?" Sam asked, watching Y/N's reactions carefully.

"Yes, I can't see them all clearly. Many are blurred, but I can see at least three up here, besides Samantha." The girl explained, briefly pointing to the spots where she saw the three aforementioned ghosts before turning her attention to the boys.

"Can you see Samantha?" Chris asked, raising his eyebrows, his blue eyes wide in curiosity.

"No, she doesn't want me to see her. But I feel her... Here." Y/N counted, closing her eyes briefly before pointing to a specific spot between Colby and Nick.

Nick looked at the indicated spot, moving away and going to Matt and Chris' side, feeling shivers run up his spine. Colby focused the camera on there, as if waiting for something to reveal itself to the lens.

Matt looked up at his girlfriend, watching her carefully, trying to make sure she was okay.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The six were now on the mezzanine, ready to stand in front of old mirrors, which were very expensive, while they tried to call for spirits through them, specifically for Carlota.

"Hey Carlota, we have five men here, but only four are single, and one of them is off limits." Matt began, looking around briefly as his right arm held Y/N close to him by her waist, not wanting to lose sight of her in the dark of the room.

Colby and Chris began to say pick-up lines into the air as they looked around blindly, causing Y/N to laugh. She couldn't believe they were actually doing that.

The scent of roses intensified around the group, making the girl divert her attention from the boys and also look around, looking for a source of the smell.

An intense tug on her hair made her take a step back, her hands flying to the spot as if she was trying to feel someone there, turning around abruptly.

"What was that?" Colby asked, stopping in the middle of one of his nonsensical pick-up lines.

"Someone pulled my hair." Y/N responded quickly, keeping her gaze firmly on the space where she felt a presence.

Matt turned to look at where his girlfriend was looking, keeping his hand in contact with her body, wanting to make sure she was still there.

"Are you sure that-" Chris began, stopping mid-sentence when he saw Y/N stumble forward, causing Matt's hand to lose contact with her body.

"Why don't you appear in front of me instead of pushing me around, Carlota?" Y/N spoke out loudly, her tone angry while her eyes rolled across the room, feeling several presences and trying to look for Carlota among them.

"Wow, calm down, baby." Matt asked, moving closer and touching her shoulder, only to have Y/N pushed to the side again.

It was obvious that that spirit, Carlota, if Y/N's intuition was right, didn't like the girl there for some reason. This was made clearer by the fact that she only pushed Y/N but didn't even touch the others.

"Are you sure it's Carlota?" Sam asked from behind the camera, zooming in on the lens and moving it so the camera captured the entire place.

"I can't see her, but I feel her presence. And it would make sense. She likes to be pampered and praised by men, having another woman in the same room as her might offend her." The girl explained.

"Or make her feel threatened." Nick added, receiving a nod from Y/N, who was still looking at specific points in the room.

"Get out." A whisper echoed directly against the girl's right ear, making her turn around abruptly, seeing only the female silhouette for a few seconds, before it disappeared like smoke.

Matt approached Y/N quickly as he saw her begin to show her nervousness, wrapping his arm around her waist firmly again, marking his territory and taking on a serious expression, looking around as if confronting whatever was there.

“You are not allowed to touch Y/N.” Matt stated, his voice echoing in a serious tone, tightening his grip on the curve of his girlfriend's waist.

The six stood in silence for a few minutes, waiting for something to happen again, but nothing happened.

"Matt took a firm stance, which probably proved to Carlota, or whoever was doing it, that they shouldn't touch Y/N." Colby explained to the camera. "If it worked so quickly, it probably means you have an aura similar to mine." He turned to Matt, who looked back at him with a confused look, not understanding what that meant.

"It is said that the spirits are afraid of Colby because he has a very "firm" aura, which scares them and makes them obey him." Sam explained, lowering the camera a little so he could get a better look at the couple.

"That explains why the manifestations at home lessen when Matt is around me." Y/N contemplated, bringing her right hand to Matt's left on her waist, stroking the area lightly in gratitude.

Colby resumed his explanation of what they would do in the room after noticing that nothing else would happen to Y/N, focusing his attention on the camera lens.

Matt brought his face closer to the top of his girlfriend's head, sealing his lips in the area for a few seconds, before moving away and exhaling the smell of shampoo and perfume that Y/N exuded, calming himself down.

"You guys are so cheesy." Nick interrupted their moment with a smile on his face, getting closer to feel some sense of comfort.

Y/N just laughed as she rolled her eyes, resting her head on her boyfriend's covered chest, feeling grateful to have him there to protect her.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Do you want to do it yourself?" Sam asked Matt.

Matt and Sam had just gotten out of the elevator after doing the ritual, which brought no results. The boys that stayed behind were surprised, saying that the ritual lasted just a few minutes, less than they expected.

Y/N was next to Nick, looking carefully inside the elevator as if expecting something to appear there, but there weren't even any traces of ghosts, which left her confused.

Matt looked at Sam for a few seconds after his question, shrugging as if to say, "I'm already here, why not?"

"Babe, can I come with you?" The girl's voice sounded among the group, making everyone look at her briefly.

Matt nodded quickly, feeling relief fill his heart, knowing that he wouldn't have to do it alone anymore. He raised his left hand in the air, waiting for his girlfriend to take it, intertwining their fingers tightly.

"What if you never come back?" Nick began, making Y/N roll her eyes.

"I promise I'll bring him back intact." The girl interrupted the drama. "I'm Lorraine Warren, remember? I'm going to protect my Ed Warren." She added, making everyone laugh.

"Send me the numbers." The brunette asked, looking at Sam as he fished his phone out of his jeans pocket.

The couple entered the elevator, Matt holding the camera in one hand and his phone in the other.

"Don't forget to say "take me to another world"." Sam remembered before the doors closed, the two of them repeating the words being the last thing he heard.

"Okay, let's do this." Matt unlocked his phone screen, opening the messaging app and clicking on Sam's chat, seeing the texts with the numbers.

Y/N read over her boyfriend's shoulder before leaning over and clicking the button for the first floor, taking a deep breath.

"Are you okay, baby?" Matt asked in a low voice, arranging the camera in his hands so that the lens framed the two of them before turning his head to look at her.

"Yeah, just nervous." Y/N began, turning to face her boyfriend while putting on a nervous smile, cracking her fingers in an act of anxiety. "It's just been too much, I've never felt so many presences at the same time."

"I know, baby. I'm here-"

Matt stopped mid-sentence when the elevator door opened, the two of them turning to the it quickly, their eyes traveling down the hallway, scanning the place.

A sigh escaped Matt's lips when nothing happened, his hands relaxing and the camera moving slightly as he leaned in to click the next button.

He reread the texts sent by Sam before putting away his phone, taking his free hand to Y/N's shoulders and pulling her close, the warmth of her body calming him.

"You're brave today. I like this new Matt." The girl commented a few seconds later, looking up, her eyes meeting the blue ones she loved so much. Matt smirked, lowering himself momentarily, sealing his lips over Y/N's forehead.

The two remained in that position, their heartbeats accelerating each time the elevator doors opened again, before they relaxed when nothing happened.

Until the fifth floor, where supposedly a "lady" should enter the elevator. Y/N stood still when the doors opened, the hair on her arms stood up and her heart seemed to freeze for a few seconds before speeding up, feeling like her entire body trembled with each beat.

"Matt." Her voice sounded broken and weak. "She... She's right there." Y/N muttered, raising her right arm and pointing out of the elevator. Her gaze seemed to be glazed over.

Matt swallowed hard, tightening his hand around his girlfriend, wanting to make sure she didn't leave his side. He arranged the camera so that the lens was focused outside, although neither he nor the camera were capturing anything.

"She's not coming in. Something seems to be stopping her. But she's so angry." The girl said, her voice full of emotions, looking like she was about to cry.

"Alright, that's enough. Let's go back." Matt interrupted, leaning in and clicking the button to go down, placing himself in front of his girl, with the intention of protecting her or taking her attention away from the figure.

The elevator began to slowly close, the doors appearing to be held by something.

When it finally did, Matt turned to Y/N, lowering the camera momentarily and focusing all of his attention on her.

"Baby, are you with me? Are you back?" The boy asked in a low, soft voice, afraid of scaring her even more. His blue eyes looked into his girlfriend's, hoping to see them come into focus again.

Y/N blinked repeatedly before finally looking at Matt.

"Yes, I-I'm sorry." She asked, her voice coming out weak. She closed her lips in a thin line, trying to hold back the post-adrenaline crying.

"Hey, don't apologize, you didn't do anything wrong. Are you okay, baby? I just need to know this." The brunette was worried, he felt his heart tighten at his girl's features, and if he could, he would pass on everything she saw and felt to himself, just to spare her from all that.

"Now I am. I promise." The girl responded, nodding her head and offering him a small smile.

The sound of the elevator doors opening interrupted them, making Matt turn his back to Y/N and face the boys waiting for them, Colby already with his camera in hand and the lens focusing on the inside of the place.

"Wow, don't tell me you guys were- Wait, is everything okay?" Nick started the joke, believing that they would be kissing due to their position, but stopping in the middle of it when he noticed the expressions on Y/N's face.

"Y/N saw the "lady" who was supposed to enter the elevator on the fifth floor." Matt said, taking his girl's hand and guiding her out of it carefully.

"What?"

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The group was now in room 525, ready to do the Estes Method.

Y/N was sitting on the edge of the bed, next to Matt, and facing the chair where the other two brothers would do the method. She had a soft smile on her face as she saw her boyfriend and brothers spouting barbs, creating a pleasant atmosphere, before Nick and Chris got under.

The girl kept her eyes glued to the duo, refusing to look around her despite hearing whispers. The words that Nick and Chris repeated, she could hear seconds before, sometimes even phrases, but she didn't want to pay attention to the ghosts there. Y/N wanted to know what they wanted them to know, and she would only get it if she heard what Chris and Nick heard.

The words came disconnected and fast. It seemed like the two were in an argument, often even complementing each other's phrases.

"Y/N." Nick spoke suddenly, his nose wrinkling under the red blindfold as if trying to understand where that came from, or hear better what it meant.

Matt quickly brought his right hand to Y/N's left thigh, maintaining direct contact with her as he kept his eyes fixed on Nick, a serious expression on his face.

"Unwelcome here." Chris spoke next.

Colby felt his fingers on the camera shake slightly. He knew well what was happening here, having already been through the same situation with Sam and their psychic friend, Amanda. He looked at Y/N with a worried expression, followed by Sam, who went over and sat on the bed next to the girl.

Matt pressed his fingers over his girlfriend's covered skin, taking a deep breath. He couldn't believe this was really happening.

"Yeah, it seems like the ghosts hate me." Y/N spoke with a nervous smile, letting out a low laugh, trying to calm the tense atmosphere that had settled.

She finally looked up and around the room, easily finding the ghost who had said that.

The "lady" from the elevator was next to Chris, staring at her with the same anger as before, showing her hatred for the girl's presence there. It was obvious that she didn't want Y/N in her hotel, but no one there understood why.

"Out."

"Her."

"Now."

"What the hell?" Y/N exclaimed milliseconds after Chris said the last word, turning around abruptly when she felt something grab her arm and let go seconds later, but curiously, her eyes didn't catch anything.

"Okay, I think that's good for now." Sam said after seeing her reaction, getting up from the bed and touching Nick and Chris, making them take off their headphones and blindfolds.

"Apparently, I'm unwelcome here." Y/N was the first to speak after getting the attention of the other two brothers. "Something just touched me, I swear."

"I just don't understand. Why would they try to attack Y/N? It doesn't make sense." Matt asked, turning to Colby in hopes of him having an answer, as he moved closer to Y/N on the mattress, trying to give her some reassurance.

"I don't know, sometimes spirits just choose one person to terrorize or attach to, and only they know why. Sam went through something similar once." Colby explained, pointing briefly at the blonde, who nodded.

The girl sighed, it's obvious that they would choose her, after all she could see and hear them. She looked around the room again, drowning out the sound of the boys' voices. Her attention was drawn to the bathroom, which had its door opened by Matt earlier.

She felt a presence there. It certainly wasn't evil, and it seemed to be calling for her, as if it needed her to come in there.

"Guys, why don't we try again, but in the bathroom?" Y/N interrupted Nick's sentence - without even knowing what he was saying -, turning to the boys with a firm look.

"Baby, are you sure? I think we're past your limit." Matt asked, uncertainty settling into his gaze as his blue eyes ran over his girlfriend's features, as if searching for any sign of fear there, but finding nothing but firmness.

"I'm sure, I feel like there's something there that needs to talk to us."

Minutes later the six had organized themselves in the small bathroom; Colby was standing in the bathtub while Matt sat on the edge of it, Nick was sitting on the closed toilet and Chris was leaning on the sink, both looking at his brother. Sam was standing in the doorway, still with the camera in hand, while Y/N was sitting on the floor, between Matt's legs and looking up, her eyes focused on her boyfriend's blindfold covered face.

Y/N had her right hand on Matt's thigh, caressing the skin carefully, trying to reduce the boy's anxiety and nervousness, knowing that despite him trying to be thought, he was afraid of what might happen, or if he would even be able to hear anything.

"A very deep breath." Matt spoke for the first time after going under, his voice coming out loud before mimicking the breath he heard.

Y/N frowned, looking around but seeing nothing. Seconds later, she felt goosebumps run down her arm and a wind on her right side, as if something had passed there and settled next to Matt.

"Love." Matt got the first word out.

"Is that why you're here? Because you love the hotel?" Sam asked from behind the camera.

"Couple."

"Are there any couples here with us?" Colby asked, pinching his lips with his fingers as he tried to think of possibilities, but there was no response from the boy.

“Are you referring to Y/N and Matt?” Chris asked suddenly, causing Y/N to look at him quickly, her eyes wide.

"Beautiful."

"Do you think they're both beautiful together?" Nick asked this time, resting his left foot lightly against Y/N's thigh, trying to keep her calm.

"Angry."

"Are you angry because they are a beautiful couple?" Sam asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Room."

"Wait, that makes sense. There was a woman in the room while Nick and Chris were doing the Estes Method, it was the same lady from the elevator, and she was very angry about something, just like she was when I saw her in the actual elevator." Y/N explained, lifting her head and briefly looking at Colby, who carried a concentrated look. "She was staring at me with hatred, as if I had done the worst thing in the world."

"Angry."

"Wow, that's the fourth time tonight that the same word has been repeated." Colby murmured, his eyes wide.

"Is the woman in the room mad that Matt and I are a couple?" Y/N asked with uncertainty in her voice. She didn't understand why a many years old ghost would be angry at their relationship.

"Envy."

At that moment, Y/N felt a new presence in the bathroom, as if something had left the room and entered there, it being filled with hatred. The girl looked up and saw the same woman, this time closer, looking at her with the same look as before, but for some reason she didn't try to touch Y/N, or she couldn't.

"She's-" Y/N's sentence was cut off by Matt, who repeated words again.

"Touch. Hurt. Y/N." Matt spoke the words without pause, his hands flying to the headphones and quickly taking it off, followed by the blindfold. "No, you can't touch her. She's not yours." Matt growled angrily, standing up and pulling Y/N by her arms, making her stand beside him, before pulling her tightly to his side and wrapping his arm protectively around her shoulder. "You're not allowed to touch any of us, especially her." The boy finished, his blue eyes traveled around the bathroom, as if he was trying to find where the entity was.

"What the fuck dude?" Sam quickly lowered the camera, looking at everyone there in shock.

Chris and Nick took a rigid stance, as if they were ready to help their brother if necessary, despite there being nothing they could do against a ghost.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Nick turned, looking at her with careful eyes, trying to read the girl's expressions.

"Yeah, she didn't actually touch me, but it was intense... I'm just scared. At least she's not here anymore." Y/N sighed, leaning into Matt, who patted her shoulder affectionately.

"That was crazy man. I didn't think the night would turn into this." Colby muttered, stepping out of the tub.

"It's okay, it's over now." Matt whispered in Y/N's ear, embracing her into his arms. She took a deep breath, breathing Matt's scent in, calming her nerves down.

The ghosts really hated her.

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