#silver week 24

[amyrosedaily]

Day 73: Happy Birthday! (Silver week day 8)

Happy birthday Silver!! Here's just a lil drawing of how they met in 06 haha

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[speeding-fox]

Day 8: Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday to you you silly future boy!

[psychictimestone]

Silver Week Finale: Happy birthday 🎊!

Happy Birthday Silver, here's to many more futures full of blue skies to come!

[wonderinc-sonic]

day 2: delivery - an attempt was made at that iconic silver pose on the tree. not a good one, but an attempt!

[absolution-orchard]

🤍🤍 SILVER WEEK INFO! 🤍🤍

As a quick and easy place to find the prompts for the event This is a pinned post for this account (a copy of the Silver Week Masterpost) to act as a reminder for the prompts if anyone should need them or any assistance!

I will update with other links if needed too!

UPDATE FOR A03 USERS: There is a silver week collection if you wish to join it!

If you wish to see the content from a certain day you can look up these tags on this blog:

'#Day 1: Dream 💤'

'#Day 2: Delivery 📦'

'#Day 3: Music 🎵'

'#Day 4: Apples 🍎'

'#Day 5: Knight ⚔️'

'#Day 6: Super 🌟'

'#Day 7: Psychic 🔮'

'#Day 8: Happy Birthday 🎊'

🤍 #SilverWeek24 prompt list 🤍

Silver week will run from November 7th 2024- November 14th 2024 📅 (LATE SUBMISSIONS NOW OPEN!!!)

You can submit to as little or as many prompts as you would like! Any creative mediums (Art, writing, photography etc.) are allowed!

You may include other characters in your submissions, as long as Silver is there/the focus ✅ You may also submit early/late submissions

tagging submissions with #SilverWeek24 is advisable to make all submissions easy to find 👍

If you have any questions, feel free to ask me, @absolution-orchard (or my main, @psychictimestone), and i'll be happy to answer!

Most importantly, have fun!! 🤍🦔

Prompt starters to get your imagation started ⭐:

Day 1: Dream ☁️

Day 2: Delivery 📦

Day 3: Music 🎵

Day 4: Apples 🍎

Day 5: Knight ⚔️

Day 6: Super 🌟

Day 7: Psychic 🔮

Day 8: Happy Birthday 🎂

[lonesome-dreamsss]

steve plays tony sappy love songs from the 40s!!! he also ventures into the 50s and 60s, hits ALL the old time-y songs. he's so in love and this is how he shows it best (along with his art of course, he has an entire sketchbook dedicated to tony).

the first time he does it, they're in the kitchen, steve's making them breakfast and tony is at the table with a coffee. steve's phone is set up, playing music, soft, quiet songs, mostly instrumentals. once he has the pancakes on a plate, he changes it to a billie holiday song. it's something so, so sappy and tony grins and is like "he's playing me love songs now?" and steve grins back and says "maybe. are you complaining?" the tips of tony's ears are pink but no, he isn't complaining, not one bit. when the song ends, tony kisses him and says "i love you too, y'know." and steve does know.

the next time, they're in tony's work shop, tony's playing around with some new suit ideas for the team and steve's drawing (tony as he is then, stained with oil smears, hair askew, absolutely beaming). steve smiles softly and requests that jarvis play this dean martin song. tony turns to look at him, that same grin he had the first time spreading across his face, "you're ridiculous." steve gives him his best who me? face and tony throws his head back and laughs.

tony takes them out of nyc, some place in upstate new york, so they could stargaze. he knows nothing about the stars, and steve is just as clueless, but it's less about that and more about just being with one another, experiencing the world's beauty together. though steve spends most of the time looking at tony because well, he's more beautiful then any star or moon. steve goes for bing crosby, and tony laughs into steve's shoulder, eyes shining in the silver lighting, "i'm starting to think you have a playlist all made up." steve presses a kiss to tony's head, "maybe i do." "sap." steve laughs, "only for you." tony then gives him the softest look, love so plainly there, and it leaves steve breathless, "aren't i lucky." steve thinks he's the lucky one.

they're in bed, tony had woken up from a nightmare and can't fall back asleep. steve's running his fingers through tony's hair and using his other hand to rub his thumb over tony's own hand. it seems to mellow tony out to some extent, but he's still tense and his eyes are glazed over, he's somewhere in his head, lost to whatever thoughts are consuming him. steve picks nat king cole now, though this time, he sings it himself. he's not a singer by any means, but he doesn't let that stop him. it pulls tony back to the present, and he cracks the tiniest of smiles. steve takes that as a win.

tony's hurt. he's hurt and he's unconscious and looks oh so pale and broken laying in the hospital bed. it's been nearly two days now, and steve is exhausted. he hasn't left the hospital chair, despite the rest of the team telling him he needs rest too. nat had almost dragged him out of there and to a shower and his bed, but he's nothing if not stubborn. she gave up, in the end, and told him to at least eat something, before leaving, saying she'd be back in the morning. steve clutches tony's hand, fighting the urge to cry yet again. he does the only thing he can think to do, the only thing that might be able to fix this in some way. he starts to sing. it's ella fitzgerald this time. his voice is dry, cracking with each word, but he keeps going. it's comforting, in a way, and he hopes it's comforting for tony too, hopes tony can even hear him. the tears come anyway, despite his best efforts, and the lyrics catch in his throat. then, in an answer to his prayers, tony squeezes his hand. it's weak but god, it's there and steve chokes out a sob, relief coursing through him. tony'll be okay.

"are you ready?" steve asks, moving to wrap his arms around tony's waist. "i was born ready, capsicle," tony says back with a wink, settling his arms around steve's neck. they fit together perfectly. frank sinatra starts to play, they had picked this one together, for this moment, and they start to dance. with the way tony's looking at him and the way the ring sits snug on his left hand, steve feels his heart swells in his chest and he can't help but lean in to kiss tony. tony smiles into the kiss and then laughs as everyone around them cheers. this is what pure happiness is, steve thinks, and rests his forehead against tony's. the song comes to a close and tony kisses him once more before tugging him towards the cake with a grin that rivals the brightness of the sun.

[chimerahh]

my eyes hurt i dont want to do this anymore

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Dick Grayson Olympics

Dick has absolutely been in the olympics multiple times by the point he's Nightwing.

Dick just also happens to have like 9 different countries in which he is a citizen. So he competes for a new country every 4 years and every time the olympics is near his phone gets absolute bombarded by a bunch of official teams and recruiters begging him to join.

He is also the world's youngest Olympian and gold medalist in general. (the youngest Olympian on record is 12 but Dick Grayson was beating up grown men by 8 so i'm starting there, he's an overachiever, no I will not accept criticism)

here me out

first one at age 8 right before his parents die, he competed for France

second one at age 12 and he competes for Italy

third one at 16 and he competes for Switzerland

fourth one at 20 and he's with Romania

you get where i'm going with this

There are 6 events and he wins gold in every one of them except one time he showed up hungover, concussed with a stomach flu (he got a silver on the uneven bars bc his vision was so blurry so he did it blindfolded so he wouldn't throw up.)

No one except Tim and Alfred know (Tim bc he's a stalker and Alfred bc Dick needed his help getting to the airport as a child) but he takes a sabbatical from work and does missions covertly in the countries he's competing in (not as Nightwing bc that would be too obvious)

He also refuses to compete for the USA bc he's still bitter about being thrown in Juvie and they can't make him

He leaves every medal by his parent's grave as a promise that he has not abandoned their dreams for him.

When anyone ever figures out he was in the Olympics he just smiles and said he competed for France once when he was a kid (bc its technically true he's only competed for France exactly one time) and he's like really bashful about it and says stuff like "oh even though my routine wasn't perfect as a kid it was still an amazing experience to have with my Mom and Dad." (he is absolutely faking the bashfulness he just doesn't want people to google him and see he's won 15 gold medals before he turned 25 bc then there are questions and he's a relatively private person).

Bruce doesn't know that Dick was in the Olympics because an 8 yr old boy who grew up in a circus would have no idea of scale. (this is based on a random fic I read where a 12yr Dick Grayson did not call Bruce when there was an active gunmen at school -he found out from another parent a week later- but called him absolutely balling, making him rush home from work bc someone stuck gum in his hair.

So 12yro Dick just tells Bruce he wants to go to an acrobatics competition and Bruce is like sure, okay how long will you gone? and Dicks like a few weeks. And because Bruce has no scale of normal parenting things, he does not see this as an issue.

By the time Dicks 24 he just doesn't tell Bruce because he thinks it's hilarious he hasn't figured it out yet. Alfred doesn't tell him bc he's hardcore judging the 'world's greatest detective' very British-ly.

The only Titans that know are Wally and Donna and they are sworn to secrecy.

And yes he is mad bc he likes the women's gymnastics stuff more bc he grew up in a circus and he thinks it looks more fun.

[amyrosedaily]

Day 66: Dream (Silver Week day 1)

It’s Silver week!! (Thanks again to @speeding-fox for finding the prompts for me!! That was so nice of you!!) Silver and Amy are my two fav Sonic characters so I’m just gonna take Silver week to draw my fav two charas together for a week.

Uh…if that’s ok? The point is to appreciate Silver so maybe this isn’t fair to Silver?? If you guys think I shouldn’t let me know.

Anyway fusion au again today haha. I promise I won’t just fusion au all the time though.

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[psychictimestone]

Day 4: Apples 🍎

The plains of Soleanna, along with some specially crafted snacks, brings together two good friends for a picnic 🍎🧺

[wonderinc-sonic]

Day 4 - Apples

I hope you can tell that I was trying to go for Winnie the Pooh here... its a pretty ugly attempt I want to try another way

[absolution-orchard]

Silver Week 24 Late submissions are now open!

first off, a massive thank you to everyone who took part in Silver week, I was both impressed and amazed by the level of creativity everyone bought to the prompts and thank you for engaging in my silly idea because I'm not sure a (sonic) character week has really been done before(?). To have over 10 (near daily) active participants (and even more doing indvidual prompts!) across here, twitter/X and BlueSky is kinda crazy to me for my first hosting an event!

It's an idea I've been planning in my head for months and seeing it come to light and people participating and genuinely being happy at celebrating our favourite goober made it all worth it (even if I am tired now 😅!)

But back on topic, I've had several people tell me they would have loved to participate but couldn't due to time constraints or other issues, so this post is to clairify you are more than welcome to participate at any time of your convience! Just tag your posts with #SilverWeek24 or #Silver Week 24 or I won't be able to find them.

I won't be as quick to repost stuff as I was during the week (I need a small break 🙏) but I will get around to everyone I find in those tags. I won't be reposting the prompts like I was daily during the event but if you need the prompts, just look to this account's pinned!

Once again thank you for your support on this project and lets do this again sometime 🤍

[quarterlifekitty]

Birthday presents:

Gaz plans out an entire day. From the moment you wake up to when you go to bed. Doing all of your favorite things, going to your favorite places, punctuated by snacks and meals at your favorite restaurants and cafes. And you get a teddy bear, that’s the rule. Every major gift occasion must come with a teddy bear.

Soap buys you something you had no idea you needed. Something you end up using every day. Something perfect. And on top of that, he makes you in insanely complex card. He’s one of those freaks who feel down the card making rabbit hole, so now he has a die cutter, embossing folders, about a million stamps and colors of ink, embossing powder in every color, etc.

Ghost becomes your personal chef for the day. Literally anything you want. As long as it doesn’t contain anything endangered, he will cook it. And he’ll take you with him to get all the ingredients— have a nice drive, buy you all your special snacks you can’t get at your usual store. He does require that if you want a stew or slow cooked meal, or something with marinade, you do have to notify him 24 hours in advance. He also gets you a children’s birthday card and crosses out the number on it with marker and writes your age. “Congratulations birthday girl, you’re 6 25!”

Price gets you a new charm for your charm bracelet, and a nice classy piece of jewelry. Something simple, beautiful, and personal. Engraved, of course. And a beautiful cake from the nicest bakery you know— even if it’s in another country (Nik owes him).

König gets you, first of all, an enormous assortment of chocolate. I think he takes a lot of pride in the quality of Austrian and German chocolate. Probably also commissions a custom medallion from his favored chocolatier. Besides that, he plans a getaway. Somewhere you can go and just not be bothered for a week or so. He often feels guilty about how much time you spend apart, so he takes every opportunity to try to make it up.

Nikolai just gives you a good old fashioned shopping spree. Anything for his gorgeous darling malýshka. And in any country you want as long as it has non-hostile airspace. You really can go shopping in Milan, Paris, and New York City in the same day if you want. That’s what you get for dating a pilot!

Rudy gets you the nicest version whatever it is that you use. If you like nail polish or lipstick, he’ll get you Charlotte Tillbury. If you like silver (in jewelry or houseware) he’ll get Tiffany. If you like pewter he’ll get Royal Selangor. It’s always something very nicely made and/or something that will last a very long time.

Nikto will get you something impossibly sentimental. Say, for example, that you lamented to him about your favorite childhood stuffed animal that had been lost when you’d had a small house fire, or when you’d cut ties with your family. You will wake up on your birthday to that exact make and model of stuffed animal, no longer how long ago you lost it, doesn’t matter if it’s no longer produced. He will perform minor miracles for you.

[hellenhighwater]

Okay, I'm in the research and resource-compilation stage of this Laika project. Dimensions on this are going to be specific enough that I will have to fully mock this up before I can start on the ceramic part of things (though I suppose I could work on Laika herself; we'll see). Rough dimensions on this are looking like probably 24 inches tall, 12-14 inches wide, and 6-8 inches deep.

The upper half of this piece would be relatively straightforwards, from a construction standpoint--layers of ceramic and glass to make a flickering star backdrop for Laika like the one I have in my living room clock of the world. I may do some kind of visible element of the rotating disc layer--maybe do a laser cut sheet of metal with engravings, or some kind of cloisonné with colored enamel illustrations? Doesn't really matter at this stage, that's decorative problems to be figured out later. Tech here: rotating motor, LED backlighting, and some laser cutting.

The bottom half of this is where things get thorny. Laika's capsule had a tiny, 6 inch window* that she presumably could see out of. I want to find a little silver porthole of approximately the correct size, and embed it in the front face, looking into the depths of the piece, where I'm thinking I will rig up a screen looping video footage of Laika herself (a bit limited, since there doesn't seem to be a lot of video of her; little of it in color and all of it the sort of resolution one would expect from 1957), ideally edited so it's sort of scaled like she's in the capsule. Then, screen brightness and venue light levels permitting, I think I want to try for a pepper's ghost effect, in the space between Laika and the porthole. If I can get the light levels to work, which will be tricky, I would have the pepper's ghost show a view of the earth from orbit--that wide, low, curved horizon, moving from light to day, almost like you're seeing a reflection of Laika's view, hovering transparently in front of her. This means I need to trawl the digital archives of various space programs for appropriate footage (thankfully they have TONS of free use video and photos, but there's an almost overwhelming amount to trawl through.)

I think I can get away with just using digital picture frames for my video displays, which may be easier than raspberry pi's. We'll see.

The very bottom would be the rolling reel for a tiny embedded music box, playable in the bottom corner. Details very rough still!

*at least according to my very preliminary research; books shall be arriving in the mail this week.

[temiizpalace]

☆┊DEAR FUTURE HUSBAND..

SUMMARY: little things he does that remind you you’re going to marry him someday.

CHARACTERS: all dorms (-ortho)

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: none

reader gender is not mentioned, reader is not mentioned to be yuu

MAKING YOU MEALS

he makes sure you eat RIGHT. no more skipping meals throughout the day on his watch. every lunch he’ll make you a cute little bento box so you don’t have to wait in line. and when i say cute, i mean cute. it doesn’t matter what gender you are your rice balls will have cat ears. dinner? come over to his dorm and he’ll make something for you. don’t feel like it? he’s going to your place and cooking there. breakfast? he makes something quick yet delicious for you. he’s like your own private chef, and you can only imagine what it’d be like to see a ring on his finger someday.

trey, ruggie, azul, jamil, lilia (good luck), silver

CLEANING YOUR ROOM (and everything else)

it doesn’t matter if your room is messy, tidy, or anything in between, every month he’ll make sure it is SPOTLESS. is there dust on your shelves? nuh uh. are there random stains on your floor that you thought were impossible to get out? he’s rushing to your rescue and somehow got the stain out. did you not want to go through your homework? everything is suddenly organized in its respective subject, going from A-Z. you’ve never seen your room so tidy before, it was like an epiphany. please just marry him on the spot, he’s begging.

riddle, deuce, jade, jamil, vil, sebek

LEAVING LITTLE POST-IT NOTES ON YOUR BELONGINGS

without fail, you’ll find a cute little sticky-note on your almost all of your belongings. sure, it gets annoying once in awhile, but reading the sweet message on it changes your mind almost instantly. “you’re going to do great today! stay strong. :)” “don’t forget to drink water! love you 🫶” “can we go out soon? my treat. text me when u see this!” it’s almost frightening to see how much yellow papers you keep inside your desk every time you opening it, but can anyone really blame you? you’re going to keep these til the day you die, and that grand total might be at the very least over 100,000.

ace, deuce, cater, jack, floyd, kalim, epel, rook

RANDOM GIFTS

expect to see a neatly wrapped gift on your doorstep almost every week. seriously. it’s like a delivery service except the company is literally your boyfriend. “dear, did you get me this?” you ask as you enter the room. he looks up from his phone as he looks at the expensive name brand sweatshirt in your hands. “yeah.” he answered so nonchalantly!! like sir!!! this sweater was 1000000 thaumarks!! what!! while you do appreciate the gesture, you feel bad he’s spending so much money on you. he doesn’t care though!! he’ll spoil you rotten til your very last breath.

leona, azul, floyd, kalim, vil, idia, malleus

PREPPING YOU SNACKS

depending on who this is, he may not be some gordon ramsay level chef, but he’s definitely more than happy to cut you a some apple slices while you study. sometimes he’ll come into your room with a backpack full of your favorite snacks just left at the side of your desk so you can reach down and grab the one you want to eat that day. sometimes all you need is an energy boost and he’s more than happy to make some coffee or tea for you if you’re busy. he’ll press a kiss or two on your forehead before placing the plate of beautifully cut fruit down and continuing on with his day and going back to his thoughts. now, what will the theme of your wedding be?

ace, deuce, trey, jade, jack, jamil, epel, malleus

A/N: notice how jamil and deuce are in almost every category. (sorry this one was kinda rushed 😭😭)

date published: 7/30/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[golden-reverie]

Burnt Out

Author’s note: Hello to anyone who sees this! I’m Elodie, 24, from the Midwest. I love to experiment with writing, and my guilty pleasure is anything to do with Harry Styles. I’ve been so inspired by all the amazing writers on here, so I finally decided to take a stab at something of my own. I hope you enjoy :)

Summary: You’ve been running yourself ragged over a work project, and Harry isn’t having it.

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: MDNI, spanking, punishment, fingering, pre-established dom/sub relationship, stern dom!harry, sub!reader, fem!reader, aftercare, all actions and dynamics are consensual

The soft glow of the laptop screen flickered against the walls, casting restless shadows in the dimly lit house. Y/N’s fingers danced over the keyboard, her eyes locked onto the cascading lines of code. Stray wisps of amber hair had escaped the messy bun atop her head, and she absently chewed on the end of a pen—an old habit from her college days. The room was silent, save for the rhythmic clicking of keys and the quiet hum of the laptop’s fan.

Harry lingered in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her with a mixture of concern and quiet frustration. The faint aroma of the dinner he’d prepared still clung to the air, a cruel reminder that she had once again skipped a meal in favor of work. Outside, the streetlights cast a soft, silver glow through the thin curtains, tracing ghostly patterns on the floor. Y/N remained wrapped in the world of her screen, completely oblivious to his presence.

He cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the hush like a blade. “Y/N, it’s late. You need to come to bed.”

She didn’t look up. “Just a few more minutes, Harry. I need to finish this.”

Harry sighed, raking a hand through his unruly curls. “You’ve been saying that for the last three hours. You need a break.”

This time, she did glance up—just long enough for him to catch the flicker of exhaustion in her gaze before she turned back to her work. “I can’t. This project is a big one. I have to get it done.”

Harry pushed off the door frame and strode toward her, his presence heavy, unyielding. A warm hand landed on her shoulder, grounding her. “You’ve been at this nonstop for weeks. You need to take care of yourself.”

She shrugged off his touch. “I will. Just not tonight.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s not how this works, Y/N. You know the rules. You agreed to them.” His voice remained level, but there was an edge to it now, a quiet authority that she could no longer ignore. “Your body needs food, rest… You’ll burn out if you keep this up.”

Y/N’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, but for the first time in hours, she hesitated. She exhaled slowly, her voice softer, but still laced with defiance.

“I just… need to finish this. Can’t you see that?”

Harry’s expression didn’t waver. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You can finish it tomorrow. During normal hours. Right now, you need sleep. I already let you skip dinner, and we both know that wasn’t the first meal you’ve ignored lately.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I’ve run out of patience, love.”

Y/N stilled. She understood the implication behind his words. Her breath hitched, cheeks heating.

“Harry, I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can.” His tone was gentle, yet immovable. “And you will.” With deliberate ease, he reached out and closed her laptop, the sudden silence deafening.

She finally looked at him, her eyes flashing with something between defiance and reluctant surrender. “You’re being over the top,” she muttered.

Harry smirked, tilting her chin up with his fingers, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Maybe I am. But someone has to be.” His thumb brushed against her cheek, slow and deliberate. “You’re not taking care of yourself. And that’s not acceptable to me.” His voice was softer now, but it carried an unmistakable weight.

The air thickened, charged with something unspoken yet undeniable.

He took a step back, nodding toward the staircase. “C’mon. Up you get.”

Y/N hesitated for half a second before pushing up from her chair, her body drawn to his like a tide to the shore. As much as she wanted to argue, she knew he was right. This project had pushed her past her limits—late nights, skipped meals, unanswered texts and calls—Harry had let a lot slide. But tonight, that grace had run out. And now that she had been pulled from the blue-light-induced trance she had been under, she found herself grateful for his insistence.

As they ascended the stairs, a different kind of tension coiled low in her stomach. She knew exactly where this was going, and she could already feel the electricity crackling in the space between them.

Harry sat on the edge of their bed, his eyes steady as she hovered in the doorway. He extended a hand, beckoning her forward.

“C’mere,” he commanded.

She found her place in between his legs. His hands fell to her hips and slinked around to the soft flesh under her ass, holding her in place. She looked down at him, anticipating his next move.

“I think you have a pretty good idea of where this is headed, yeah?” His eyes held a quiet patience that stood in sharp contrast to the inevitable sentence looming over her head.

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, avoiding his gaze.

Harry hummed in approval. “I’ve let a lot slide these past couple of weeks,” he said, tilting his head forward in search of her eyes. “I know big projects come up and that they sometimes get the better of our judgment. That’s just life. But you’re not doing yourself any favors by skipping meals and running on two hours of sleep each day… I know you know that.”

She rested her hands on his shoulders, fingers toying with the fabric of his shirt. A nervous habit.

He blows out a soft sigh, brushing his fingers against her skin, “I gave you plenty of chances to course-correct, Y/N. I wasn’t expecting perfection, but you’ve been running yourself into the ground, and that’s not something I can just overlook.”

She chewed her lip, her gaze flickering anywhere but his face. “I know. I’m sorry.” A frustrated breath escaped her lips, “It’s just… this project is important to me, and you know how cutthroat my coworkers can be. I can’t afford to fall behind.”

“I understand,” he says, lightly squeezing her flesh beneath his hands. “And I love how hard you work, but regardless, you know you can’t be on your A-game if you’re not taking care of yourself… That’s why we put these rules in place, remember? He moves his right hand up to her jaw in a silent command to meet his stare, “Because I love you and I care about you.” His voice was steady, eyes unwavering. “And sometimes you need a reminder to care about yourself, too. Yeah?”

She maintained eye contact this time, the guilt she had been trying to push aside settled heavily in her chest. “I love you too.” she mumbles, her voice barely audible. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t just an apology—it was an admission. She had ignored the rules, brushed aside her own well-being for weeks, and now the weight of it all felt like it was seeping out of her pores, pooling at his feet.

Harry lets his hand drop from her chin, his expression firm but not unkind. “And I appreciate that,” he says, his tone shifting, sharpening. “But you know the deal.”

It wasn’t necessarily a question, but she answered him, nonetheless.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Alright, over my knee,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. He patted his thigh—a silent summons, firm and absolute.

Y/N hesitated for a moment. Not out of reluctance, but out of the sheer pleasure of the moment—this dance between them—the thrill of defiance followed by sweet surrender. She always wanted this, always needed this, and until right now; she hadn’t realized how much she’d been craving it.

He didn’t rush her. He never did. He simply waited, watching her with steady, knowing eyes. The weight of his gaze alone sent a shiver through her, anticipation thrumming beneath her skin. Taking a slow, measured breath, she finally relented, placing her hands on the mattress for balance as she draped herself over his lap.

He took a moment to admire the sight before him—the gentle arch of her back, the delicate vibration in her limbs, betraying her excitement. His hands smoothed over her spine, warm and comforting, a soothing contrast to the tension coiling inside her.

He could feel her trembling almost imperceptibly as she laid there—a quiet, unspoken longing bubbling up from her core. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her leggings, peeling them down her legs with deliberate ease before tossing them aside.

His palms roamed over the swell of her ass, his touch featherlight, teasing. Y/N bit her lip, resisting the instinct to press her thighs together as he traced the lace trim of her panties, feeling her heat radiating through the delicate fabric. That alone nearly unraveled him. His cock strained painfully against his sweatpants, but he forced himself to linger in this moment—the exquisite torture of making her wait, of drawing it out until she was teetering on the edge.

His hands traveled upward, finding the hem of her shirt, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin beneath. He heard the small hitch in her breath, watched as goosebumps bloomed across her flesh. Slowly, agonizingly, he lifted the fabric, removing it from her body, letting the cool air kiss her bare back as she shivered in his grasp.

He towered over her, his presence commanding every ounce of her attention. His voice, low and unwavering, wrapped around her like a steel chain. “Is your work more important than your own health?”

Y/N inhaled sharply, steadying herself before she answered. “No, Sir.”

“And who decides when you’ve had enough?” His head tilted slightly, waiting—expecting.

His voice rumbled through her, a dark, velvety vibration that settled deep in her bones. Her breath hitched. “You do, Sir.”

A flicker of approval danced in his eyes. “Good girl.”

His palm ghosted over the curves of her ass, tracing gentle circles that did little to soothe the anticipation humming in her nerves. “I want you to count for me.”

She barely had a moment to brace herself before his hand left her skin—only to return with a sharp, resounding crack.

“One!” she gasped. But before she could stop herself, her right hand shot back instinctively, trying to shield herself from the sting.

Harry was faster. He caught her wrist effortlessly, pinning it against the small of her back. His fingers wove through hers, the delicate touch at odds with the firmness of his next words.

“You know better than that.” His voice carried a quiet, heavy disapproval that made her stomach flip. “We’re starting over. Every time you squirm, we’ll go back to one again. Understood?”

Y/N swallowed hard, resisting the urge to whimper. He meant business tonight. “Yes, Sir.”

The next blow landed just as hard.

“One, Sir.” This time, she tagged on the honorific—not required, but a subtle touch she knew he'd appreciate. A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.

Then came the next. And the next.

“Two, Sir… Three, Sir!” The quick succession stole the breath from her lungs, leaving her voice edged with both pain and something deeper, something needier.

He could feel it—the way her body responded, her skin flushing beneath his touch, heat rolling off her in waves. His palm burned against her flesh, but he reveled in it. He lived for this part: the slow, deliberate breaking down of everything but sensation.

By number twelve, the sharp slap landed against the tender flesh of her lower thighs, and she wailed, the sound raw and unfiltered. Tears pricked at the edges of her vision, but still, she forced the number past her lips.

Harry knew her body better than she did. He knew exactly how to unravel her, how to make her cry out first from frustration—then from sheer, unadulterated pleasure. He wanted her mind empty, consumed only by this, by him.

The next set of strikes sent waves of something heady through her, an intoxicating blend of pain and euphoria. Her breath stuttered. She barely managed to grunt out the numbers between each punishing impact, her body trembling, craving.

By the time he reached twenty-eight, her head had fallen slack against the bed, silent tears soaking into the duvet. This was the most Y/N had ever taken. Normally, he didn’t have to go past twenty before she surrendered completely, but tonight—tonight she had been stubborn. Each slap chipped away at the stress, the tension, the weight she had been carrying for weeks.

He felt the moment her body gave in. The way her fingers went limp in his grasp, her voice raw, spent. She wasn’t resisting anymore—just accepting.

“Thirty, Sir,” she sobbed, the words almost lost in the haze of exhaustion and relief. Then, softer still, “I’m sorry.”

Harry let his hand relax, fingers tracing slow, soothing circles over the heated expanse of her skin. Her body was still shaking, but not from pain. Not anymore. He knew she had slipped, drifting into that quiet, blissful space where nothing existed beyond the warmth of his touch and the safety of his presence.

And he wasn’t about to pull her out. Not yet.

For a long moment, the only sound was the steady rhythm of his palm smoothing over her, and the lingering, uneven sniffles escaping her lips. He let her breathe, let her be.

After a couple minutes, he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he murmured, “You did so good baby. I’m proud of you.”

He pressed a few final, featherlight kisses along the curve of her lower back, his breath warm against her skin as he murmured, “Are you ready for me to check on you?”

He already knew the answer. Knew what he would find when his fingers slipped between her thighs. The anticipation sent a thrill down his spine as he let his hand drift lower, tracing the seam of her slick folds, drinking in the heat that seeped into his skin.

She was dripping.

Harry was hard beneath her, the evidence pressing insistently against her stomach, and he knew she could feel it too. But tonight wasn’t about him. Yes, she had broken the rules—deserved the punishment she had just endured—but more importantly, he wanted to strip away the weight she had been carrying. He wanted to unmake the stress that had hardened her and replace it with something softer.

His thumb found her clit, circling with just enough pressure to make her squirm, a broken whimper muffled against the duvet.

“Good girl, Y/N,” he praised, his voice a low hum of satisfaction.

“Just gonna make you feel good now, yeah?”

He slid a finger inside her, slow and deliberate, while his free hand threaded into her hair, stroking, grounding her.

Her nod was small, but he felt the way her body melted, giving in to his touch. Wetness seeped onto his thigh, further proof of how much she needed this—needed him.

He pushed a second finger inside, reveling in the way her walls clenched around him, her body trembling from the overwhelming sensations. With every stroke, he could feel her tension unraveling, her muscles slackening, the last remnants of restraint slipping away.

The world around him dissolved as his fingers curled inside her, seeking out the spot he knew would make her crumble. “You’ve been so good for me,” he whispered, his lips grazing the damp skin of her shoulder. “Took your punishment like a champ. Now, I want you to come for me. Just like this.”

Her skin tasted of sweat and salt, the scent of her arousal thick in the air.

Y/N was a paradox—a perfect blend of submission and defiance. As obedient as she was, that stubborn streak of hers ran just as deep, a constant challenge that kept him on his toes. But nights like this? When she surrendered completely, yielding every inch of herself to him without hesitation?

He savored it. Relished it. Worshipped it.

Because having all of her—mind, body, and soul—was a privilege he would never take for granted.

He studied her like an artist captivated by the final stroke of their masterpiece, burning the view into his memory—the flutter of her lashes as her eyes turned glassy, the flush that crept down her neck, the way her cunt clenched so tightly around his fingers as if trying to keep him there forever. He wanted to teach her to let go. To release all the anxiety, frustration, and exhaustion that had been suffocating her for far too long.

But he needed it to come from her—wanted her to own her pleasure as much as he did—to know that she was worthy, desired, loved.

Harry’s fingers slid deeper, moving with deliberate slowness as they arched just right, pressing against the spot that had her moaning, her body instinctively grinding against his palm. Her face was buried in the duvet, eyes squeezed shut as she gasped, overwhelmed by the rush of sensations flooding through her.

“Come on, Y/N. Let go for me,” he coaxed, his voice dripping with filthy promise.

Her body tensed, and he knew he had her. She trembled on the precipice before the dam broke. A shattered moan tore from her lips as pleasure ripped through her, muscles spasming in tight, rhythmic waves. The heat of her release coated his figures, and he didn’t stop—not yet.

He worked her through it, his thumb never relenting from the steady, precise strokes against her clit. He wanted everything. Wanted to hear her cry out for him, to watch the pleasure drag her under until she had nothing left to give.

And under she went.

Her cries turned breathless as the last tremors wracked her body, her limbs going boneless beneath his touch. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, smirking at the needy little whimper she made at the loss. He soothed the ache with soft strokes along her trembling thighs, grounding her as she came back down.

“Atta girl, sweetheart,” he cooed, voice laced with satisfaction. “That feel good?”

A slow, exhausted nod was all she could manage. As the haze of pleasure lifted, she became aware of everything at once—the damp strands of hair sticking to her nape, the tingling in her limbs, the lingering warmth radiating from her backside.

But nothing could pull her back to reality quite like his voice.

“Can you sit up for me, sweet girl?”

***

Water cascaded from the shower head in silken ribbons, a warm, soothing contrast against the cool tile. Steam curled in the air, thick and languid, blurring the edges of the room until it felt like they existed in their own private universe. The scent of eucalyptus clung to the mist, wrapping around them like an embrace.

Harry held Y/N close, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, the quiet strength of him anchoring her. Her head rested against his collarbone, the sound of his heartbeat a calming metronome against the storm that had been raging inside her for weeks.

His hands moved slowly over her damp skin, drawing soothing circles along her spine, his thumbs tracing the delicate ridges of her back. She shivered—not from the cold, but from the contrast of sensations: the warmth of the water, the cool air beyond it, the roughness of his calloused fingers against the softness of her flesh.

She tilted her head up, meeting his gaze through the water’s shimmering veil. Her lips were parted, her lashes heavy, surrender written in every line of her expression. Harry felt something deep and primal stir in his chest.

With a lingering kiss, he turned her around, his fingers threading through her hair as he worked the shampoo into a gentle lather. His touch was reverent, a contradiction of tenderness and strength, his large hands cradling her head with the kind of care that made her stomach flutter. She sighed softly, melting into the sensation as she rested against his muscled body, her small noises of contentment filling the air like music.

When the last suds had been rinsed away, Harry reached past her to shut off the water, the sudden absence of sound leaving them in an intimate hush. Without hesitation, he grabbed the towels he had set out earlier, wrapping her in one before she could feel the bite of the air. He took his time drying her off, the plush fabric gliding over her sensitive skin like a gentle breeze, coaxing a soft sigh from her lips. Then, with the same quiet devotion, he slipped one of his t-shirts over her head, the oversized fabric swallowing her smaller frame.

As Y/N moved through the final steps of her skincare routine, Harry retrieved a bottle of lotion from the cupboard across the room. He approached her with the grace of a shadow, gently tapping her on the bum.

“When you’re done, I want you to lay on the bed on your tummy. Ok?” His voice a smooth, honeyed command.

She finished up and did as she was told, sinking into the mattress, her head resting on her folded arms. Her damp hair spread across the silk pillow like a river of dark water, cool and smooth against the fabric.

The bed dipped beneath his weight, and she heard the soft sound of lotion being smoothed between his hands. A moment later, the hem of her shirt lifted, and his warm palms met the tender skin of her backside. Y/N sighed deeply, the coolness of the lotion a welcome relief to the heat lingering from earlier. His hands moved with slow, deliberate strokes, massaging away the sting, his fingers tracing the curves of her body with intimate familiarity.

The room was quiet, save for the rustle of sheets and the steady rhythm of their breathing. Y/N felt herself unraveling beneath his touch, sinking into the present moment, leaving behind the weight of the stress that had knotted itself into her muscles. He always knew how to bring her back—how to pull her from the depths of her mind and remind her that she didn't have to handle everything on her own.

When he was finished, he leaned down, brushing a stray lock of hair from her neck before pressing a gentle kiss to the delicate skin there.

“How do you feel?” His voice was a low murmur against her ear, thick with warmth and something deeper—something unspoken but understood.

Y/N swallowed, taking a moment to gather her words. “I—I feel good, Sir,” she admitted, her voice still laced with the remnants of pleasure and submission. “Still a little out of it… but good.” She paused for a moment, then continued, “I’m glad for the punishment. I really needed that.”

She shifted to sit up, and he caught her chin between his fingers, maneuvering her head to face him.

Harry’s lips curved into a soft smile, his thumb tracing slow, reassuring patterns along her cheek. “You did well tonight. You know that, right? M’proud of you.”

The weight of his words settled over her like a blanket—warm, protective, unwavering. She smiled softly into his touch.

A beat of silence stretched between them before he spoke again. “When you feel like things are spiraling, I need you to know you can come to me.”

Then, without waiting for a response, he leaned in and kissed her. It was slow and deliberate, filled with everything he didn’t need to say—everything he had already proven.

When she finally pulled away, her voice was softer, more certain. “I do know that. And I’m sorry I didn’t come to you sooner. It’s… a habit, shutting people out when I’m stressed. But regardless, you didn’t deserve that.”

Harry exhaled a quiet laugh, “Yes, I’m well aware of that habit of yours, which we’ll crack one day. But in the meantime, you can push all you want, sweetheart. Unfortunately for you, I’m not going anywhere.”

She giggled, letting him pull her into his chest. “On the contrary. Very fortunate for me,” she corrected, her voice tinged with affection.

He grinned, maneuvering the covers so she could slide beneath them. Reaching over, he switched off the lamp on his bedside table, casting the room into a velvety darkness.

As Y/N melted into him, the last of her tension slipping away, he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“Get some sleep. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered against his skin, finally surrendering to the quiet lull of sleep’s embrace.

...

Ahhh! Kind of out there for my first post but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Hope you enjoyed!