#but i think if she'd had more screen time

[ihatealimore]

Lover, You Should've Come Over

(word count: 1.432) (angst, comfort)

Sitting alone in the dim room, Kurapika finds himself consumed by a painful wave of regret. His hands curl into fists at his sides, fingernails digging dents into his skin as he thinks about (Y/N). A beautiful woman with sharp eyes that saw right through him.

"I pushed her away," He mutters to himself, the extent of his actions weighing on him heavily, "I was so concerned about dragging her down with me... I didn't consider what it would do to her."

The memories of their past together begin to seep into his mind like venom spreading its poison throughout an unsuspecting body. Their laughter echoing through empty halls, the way she'd playfully tugged on a lock of his blonde hair whenever they sparred together. Each memory brings forth another flood of bitter sorrow that gnaws at the edges of Kurapika's already damaged heart.

"She deserved better," He whispers hoarsely against the icy silence that wraps around him, "And I... I couldn't give it to her."

The taste of regret is sour on his tongue, but nothing stings more than remembering how (Y/N) had looked at him when he walked away, pure understanding reflected in those knowing eyes. A silent acceptance that cut deeper than any blade.

"(Y/N)," Kurapika breathes out, the name slipping from his lips like a prayer. 

His gaze focuses on the empty space before him as if he could summon her back with just his longing.

"I'm sorry. I should've stayed," He murmurs quietly into the stillness of the room, shame lacing every word, "I miss you..."

A strained sigh escapes Kurapika's lips, his eyes dull and filled with sorrow, "If only I could see her again..." His voice trails off into a broken whisper, the words hanging stubbornly in the stagnant air surrounding him.

He would give anything to see those bright eyes again, to see her smiling at him so tenderly, to feel the warmth of her skin against his own. The pain plaguing him seems unending, spiraling deeper within his chest with every passing second.

His hand instinctively moves towards where he imagines (Y/N) might be sitting if she were here, an empty gesture aimed at filling a void he himself had created. He misses everything about her, her stubbornness, her recklessness...

But most importantly, how understanding she was, even when things didn't make sense.

"I'll do whatever it takes," Kurapika declares quietly as if making a vow to himself, "I just want another chance."

The blonde-haired man's hand hovers over his phone, a deep sigh leaving his lips. He contemplates calling her, the weight of his decision making his heart pound louder in his chest. His fingers itch to dial her number, a series of digits he had memorized by heart.

The screen glows softly in the dim room, casting an eerie light onto Kurapika's face as he scrolls through his contacts until (Y/N)'s name comes into view. Her contact picture is one they'd taken together during happier times, both of them smiling so brightly that their joy seems almost tangible.

His thumb hovers over her name for what feels like an eternity, every second amplifying the heavy silence encompassing him. The fear gripping at him feels strong and suffocating. What if she doesn't answer? Worse yet... What if she does?

"(Y/N)..." He says under his breath, steeling himself before finally pressing down on her contact information.

As he brings the phone up to his ear, Kurapika bites down hard on his lip. He can taste the metallic tang of blood dripping into his mouth but he barely registers it. All he can focus on is the rhythmic beating of a dial tone, a stark contrast to his erratic heartbeat.

His grip tightens around the device as every passing second becomes a harsh reminder of how much time had been wasted, how many words were left unsaid, and how many actions were done out of fear instead of love. His breath hitches when after several agonizing moments, her voicemail greeting plays.

But even just hearing her recorded voice gives him a brief sense of reprieve, grounding him back to reality from where regret and pain drag him deep within its clutches. It isn't enough though. He needs more than just echoes of her voice trapped in a digital recording.

Hearing the beep indicating it's time to leave a message, Kurapika takes in a deep breath before speaking. His voice quivers slightly, but he presses on, "(Y/N)... It's me, Kurapika."

He pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing.

"I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear from right now but... I miss you."

The words taste bitter on his tongue, an admission of guilt and longing wrapped together.

There's another tension-filled pause before he finally lets out what had been gnawing at him all night long, "Please come over. I need to see you..."

With that final plea hanging heavily in between them, even if she isn't there physically, he ends the call. His phone drops back onto his lap as he leans back into his chair, letting out a sigh full of uncertainty and vulnerability.

She may not come... But at least now she knows how desperate he is without her.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, Kurapika had begun to lose hope. The silence is deafening and doubt claws at his insides with a vengeance. He spends the passing hours aimlessly pacing around his apartment, trying to distract himself from constantly glancing towards his phone.

When he hears a subtle knock echo through the room, the Kurta freezes in place, heart pounding fiercely against his ribcage as he makes way to the door.

Dread and anticipation swirls within him as he gently pulls open the door, revealing (Y/N) standing there under dimly lit hallway lights, her silhouette creating shadows that dance across her features.

For a moment, it seems as if time itself has stopped, everything silent except for their shallow breaths mixing together in sync before he finally releases an audible sigh of relief.

"Kurapika?" Her voice is filled with surprise, and before she can utter another word, he has already thrown his arms around her. His grip is tight, a desperate hold born out of fear that if he lets go even slightly, she'll disappear.

He buries his face into the crook of her neck, every inch of him attempting to memorize her, the way she feels against him, the faint scent of her hair mixing with the outside air lingering on her clothes.

A shaky breath escapes him as he tries to gain control over his racing heart, albeit in vain, because now that she's here within his reach again... He doesn't want to let go.

"Kurapika?" She echoes and the sound of her voice, so close and filled with concern, causes something warm to bloom in his chest. As she returns his embrace and begins to rub soothing circles on his back, he feels a few of the knots in his stomach start to unravel.

"You sounded... Unwell in your voicemail. Are you okay?" Her words resound through him, genuine worry laced into each syllable.

"I..." He swallows hard as he draws back just enough to look at her, meeting those beautiful eyes that hold nothing but sincerity, "I've been better," It isn't a lie but it doesn't feel like the whole truth either.

"I can tell," She replies quietly.

He lets out another trembling breath before tightening his hold around her again, not ready yet to fully face what's been haunting him for so long without having her close.

For now, he wants to linger in her arms. Holding onto her as if she's his lifeline, Kurapika allows himself to sink deeper into her embrace, her comforting warmth seeping through the fabric of his clothes and into his cold existence.

He presses his face further into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent deeply, "Just let me hold you for a bit longer," He murmurs against her flesh, hoping she'll understand just how much he needs this right now.

"Okay, I'm not going anywhere," She whispers against his ear, the softness of her voice flowing into him and further calming his anxious thoughts.

Kurapika's heart constricts at her promise, gratitude washing over him in waves. He tightens his hold on her further, as if conveying all the unspoken emotions through this one gesture.

He doesn't know how long they stood there in silence, time seeming to lose its grip on him as he simply allows himself to exist within this comforting bubble with her by his side... And for once, it feels okay to let down the walls around him even if it is just for a little while.

This feels like home to him, something he thought he had lost forever.

[seramilla]

God that must be so hard and nerve wracking for Carmilla. Finally knowing what happened to the baby she lost and feeling slightly relieved cause now here was her baby safe and here in her arms again where she belonged damnit but they were all in hell and her baby had already lost an eye and had to fight every day...

But also...how are Clara and Odette handling the news that they found their baby sister and just who she is?

Carmilla takes a few days to determine if she wants to inform Odette and Clara about what she'd gleaned following the most recent Extermination. In the first place, her girls had been working overtime extracting all the angelic steel left behind near the Hotel; it's a veritable treasure trove this time, and they'd been so excited to get started. Second, Carmilla needed time to process recent revelations herself, and figure out how to delicately broach the subject with her eldest two.

How is she supposed to tell her daughters that their sister, whose existence they'd barely even registered back on Earth, had quite literally come back from the dead? Not only that, they'd missed an entire childhood together; growing, playing, bonding, fighting, and loving one another -- all things Clara and Odette had the opportunity to do. How is Carmilla supposed to just go up to them and say, "Surprise! You remember that child I was pregnant with when we all died? Well, she's still around! She's an ex-Exterminator, killed hundreds of our people, and I don't even know if she wants anything to do with us!"

Would Odette even accept her? Clara is usually the more open-minded of the two. That's another question she can't answer. With how many times Vaggie's "sister" Exorcists have tried to kill them over the years, would her other daughters even want to have anything to do with Vaggie? She thinks they would...Clara the most likely of the two...but they are fully grown women with their own thoughts and feelings. She wouldn't blame them if they...well, they'd have every right not to want that kind of relationship with Vaggie, at any rate.

Carmilla is still stewing in these thoughts, having practically worn a path in the middle of her bedroom floor by walking back and forth so many times, when she feels a vibration in her pocket. Pulling out her phone, Vaggie's name flashes prominently on the screen, like a fresh piece of graffiti on the side of a building. She almost drops her phone in surprise, but manages to keep it together. She taps the answer icon in trepidation.

"Ye-yes?"

"Carmilla?" Vaggie's voice on the other end sounds so...tired. Carmilla recalls she's been home for a few days now, but she wouldn't have been able to tell by the sound of her voice alone. Her tone is so...ragged and laced with anxiety; a spitting image of her own, if she's honest.

"Vaggie! Umm, yes! How can I help you?"

There is a definitive pause, one that makes the distance between them seem more metaphysical than real. They are just across the city from each other, but in every other sense, Vaggie is undoubtedly existing in her own plane of reality right now. She seems so much farther away than Carmilla could possibly reach by foot. It must have taken her a lot to call Carmilla. The arms dealer puts her patience to the test, and waits intently for Vaggie to find the words to voice what she needs to say.

"Carmilla..." Vaggie finally starts, a voice much shakier and insecure than she remembers; a far cry from that determined, brave girl that challenged her at her compound all those days ago. "Can I...come over?"

Carmilla's heart jumps into her throat. Her ears start ringing, and she almost needs to sit down on her bed before she collapses.

"Yes!" she says, flinching as she sounds a little too eager for her own ears. There's no helping that now. "Of-of course! Whatever you need, mi querida. My door is always open. When do you want to come by?"

"Ummm," Vaggie hesitates, as if she fears she's asking too much. "Is right now okay? Are you...busy?"

Odette and Clara will be back soon, but that is the furthest thing from Carmilla's mind at the moment. She'll deal with it when the time comes.

"No, that's perfectly fine! Absolutely, I'll be here! I'm not going anywhere today."

Vaggie sounds a little relieved, but also like she hadn't expected her question to be answered so quickly, so freely. Carmilla hopes she doesn't sound too eager...but she is. How can she not be? This is her daughter, for goodness’ sake, her child, wanting to see her.

"O-oh-okay!" Vaggie says, a little more eager this time. "Gi-give me an hour? And I'll...I'll be there."

"Text me once you're close by," Carmilla says, trying to push away any further doubts and hesitation from her mind. Vaggie wants to come over. She needs to be strong for her. She needs to keep it the fuck together. "I'll come out and get you this time."

"Okay," Vaggie responds. "Thanks...thank you, Carmilla."

Vaggie hangs up. Carmilla stiffens. She stands up, putting her large hands over her face, wiping her forehead down to her cheeks from the stress of it all. Vaggie is coming back, coming here, right now. She tries so much not to freak the fuck out.

Now to figure out what to do about Odette and Clara.

[erikahenningsen]

Regina takes up 2/3 of the bed but it works for them because Cady sleeps curled up in a little ball. Regina hates having to sleep without Cady because sometimes she has nightmares and she always feels guilty about calling Cady in the middle of the night.

Now, please do this 😔🙏, or if you could, elaborate more. I'm currently in the midst of brainrot.

#grad school universe / Angie's fic

Regina wakes up just as the bus is about to hit her, breathing hard.

For a moment, she's completely disoriented, before she realizes she's in her bed, her apartment dark and silent.

Regina presses a hand to her forehead and finds it tacky with sweat, and her throat is a bit tender. She wonders if she had been screaming in her sleep. That's happened before—and completely scared the shit out of Cady the first time.

Cady.

Instinctively, Regina reaches to Cady's side of the bed, and finds it cold and empty. Right. Cady is at her apartment in New Haven. Regina is still getting used to spending more nights apart than together. She'd never tell Cady, but she thinks the nightmares have become more frequent as a result.

Regina wants to call Cady. She needs to hear her voice. It's the only thing that slows her heart, which is still pounding inside her chest with panic. But it's the middle of the night, and Cady has class in the morning.

Regina rolls over and tries to ignore it, to will herself back to sleep—or at least into a calmer state. But every time she closes her eyes, all she sees is Cady staring at her with horror as the bus plows into her body. Sometimes, in the dreams, the bus hits Cady instead. Those are the worst ones.

After a couple of minutes of trying to relax by sheer force of will, Regina tries deep breathing. She tries listening to some calming music. She even tries a free meditation video on YouTube, even though she thinks it's stupid. But she doesn't feel even a little bit better.

Before she can overthink it, she taps on Cady's contact and holds her breath as the phone rings.

Just as Regina thinks the call is going to time out, Cady picks up. The screen is dark, but Regina can make out part of Cady's face on the screen.

"Regina?" Cady mumbles sleepily. She squints against the light of her phone. "You okay?"

"Hi, baby," Regina whispers. She feels guilt flare in her stomach at Cady's sleepy face, but she already feels less like she's having a heart attack.

Cady runs a hand down her face. "Did you have a bad dream?" she asks.

Regina cringes a little at the wording—it makes it sound like she's four years old—but now is not the time.

"Yeah," Regina says. "I just needed to see you."

Cady makes a vague gesture that might be a wave. "Here I am."

"And so beautiful, as always," Regina says. She's always found it quite unfair how Cady looks gorgeous all the time, even in the middle of the night.

"I love you," Cady says, with so much affection that Regina physically aches to be with her. "I'm glad you're alive."

"Me, too," Regina says. "Most of the time."

Cady makes a displeased noise, and Regina knows if it weren't the middle of the night and they weren't in separate states Cady would insist on having A Conversation about the most of the time part.

For a few moments, Regina just looks at Cady's face. Well, more like half of her face. At a weird angle. But her breathing has returned almost to normal, and she isn't trembling anymore.

"I'm gonna fall asleep," Cady admits, eyelids drooping, "but I'll leave my phone on."

"Good night," Regina says. "I love you."

Cady kisses the tips of her fingers and taps them against the screen as her eyes close.

It'll have to do, for now.

[melandrops]

the key to enjoying the magnus archives is understanding that every single person is a bitch. name a character and i can tell you right now they have the most petty bitchy tendencies. you have to understand that all of these characters are absolutely insufferable bitches and there's nothing any of us can do except say slay king live your truth. they served cunt and if innocents died along the way that's none of my business thank you

[moonchildstyles]

First time sex with rosemary 🌿

wordcount: 9k

—————

Wiping her floured hands on her apron, (Y/N) brushed her hair out of her face with her wrist before reaching towards her back pocket for her vibrating phone. Her lips curled into a soft smile seeing Harry's name on her screen, his contact featuring a photo of him sleepy-eyed next to his kitten in her bed had her smile stretching wider. Taking a quick glance at the time, she was sure he'd just made it back to his apartment after finishing up at the grocery store. 

Quickly, she peeled her gloves from her hands and peeked out into the storefront of the bakery. Just as she had left it a handful of minutes before, there weren't any patrons now that the morning rush had passed, leaving Sabrina tucked behind the desk with her book folded open. 

"Hey, I'm going to take my fifteen really quick. Is that okay?" As soon as Sabrina gave her the go ahead with a wave of her hand with her eyes still stuck to her book, (Y/N) was answering the call with a tap of her thumb. "Harry?" she greeted, stepping out back of the bakery for a bit of privacy in the mid-morning air. 

"Hi, peach," he murmured through the receiver, voice drooping and soft, "Is it alright that I called you? I know you're still working, so." 

"Your timing was perfect, actually," she told him, knowing he was probably more worried than he was letting on for fear of having ruined her day, "Everything just cleared out from this morning, and I needed a break." 

"Yeah? Long shift already?" he pressed, the sound of sheets shuffling on the other side with a petite meow chirping through. 

"A little bit, yeah," she sighed, wishing she was wrapped up in warm sheets with Harry and Rosemary, "Just one of those Sunday morning shifts, you know. How was your night, though? Work was okay?" 

"Yeah," he said, the syllable floating out on a long suffering sigh, "Theo and Brett were still annoying, but I think Fawn is going to cover one of my shifts this week." 

(Y/N) immediately perked up at the new information. She'd been urging him to take some time off this past month; he didn't have to work himself to the bone anymore, not now that his issues from back home had been resolved. It was unhealthy, she'd told him more than once—he would make himself sick with more than just exhaustion if he wasn't careful. 

"Really? What day?" she bubbled off, ready and willing to shift her own schedule around if he wanted. 

"Thursday." 

She could hear the smile in his voice as he uttered the words. He knew what reaction he was going to get. 

"Are you serious?" she beamed, bouncing on the soles of her feet, "You have the whole weekend off then?" 

"I do, yeah. So do you." 

"Harry," she bleated, "I'm so excited! We haven't had any time together I feel like, and now we get a whole weekend! Thank you!" 

"That's what I was thinking when I made my request; barely seen you this past week. 'S not fair." 

"It's not," she affirmed, "You haven't even been able to sleep over since Friday. I'm not used to that." 

"Me neither, peach," he murmured, his tone decidedly more somber than just a moment before though she understood where he was coming from. 

Ever since their impromptu road trip, they tended to have as many sleepovers as their schedules would allow. Besides the comfort that came along with being at each other's side—especially in the case of Harry's frequent nightmares—, it was hard to forget how much they liked sharing a bed and sitting down for meals together. 

"Did you want to do anything special?" she prompted, already racking her brain for anything that Harry would enjoy leaving the house for. 

"I've got to go to the library at some point," he mused, another chirping meow sounding from the background prompting a huff of laughter to leave his lips, "But, other than that, I was hoping I could catch up on m'sleep." 

"We can do that," (Y/N) decided, shifting her view of the days off to turn into cozy sheets and breakfasts in bed, "A weekend long sleepover. We'll make a thing of it." 

"Yeah?" Harry asked, a smile audible in his tone—a vision that had (Y/N)'s chest warming. "How are we gonna do that?" 

She hummed, sifting through her ideas before landing on a few to share, "Probably movies if we have the attention span for it—if not, we can read together or something. We can do face masks too—Ooh, or I'll get another of that hair mask you like. Let me think, but I have some ideas." 

"'M sure y'do, peach," he murmured, his voice decidedly lower and slower than before, sleep vining around the edges of his words, "Whatever y'want, we'll do. I trust you." 

"I'll make sure we make a thing of it, H," she told him, reluctant to say her next words but knowing he needed to get as much sleep as he could manage, "I've got to get back to the ovens, but I'll text you when I'm off." 

"Yeah?" he mumbled, "Tell me when y'get home?" 

"You've got it," she smiled, feeling the winter sun warm on her cheeks, "Goodnight, H."

"Goodnight, peach." 

With that, (Y/N) ended the call. Hopefully, he would be able to sleep through the rest of her shift at least. He just needed to get through the next few days, then he'd have some time off to spend at her gingerbread house. 

The thought had that soft curl on her lips feeling permanent. She would have to remind him how proud she was that he was taking a couple of days off, the time well-deserved. 

Just like she said, she would make a thing of it, she only had to figure out what a thing for Harry looked like. 

—————

With Rosemary wriggling in his arms, Harry nearly fumbled his keys to the ground while on (Y/N)'s stoop. She was a calm little thing nearly any other time of the day, but as soon as they were at (Y/N)'s door, Rosie couldn't settle. 

Keeping his hold on her tight, he was able to finally stumble through the door before letting her spill out of his arms. Her feet pattered over the hardwood, beelining for the kitchen just as he knew she would. Harry could only shake his head as he kicked off his shoes by the door, setting them next to (Y/N)'s under the foyer table. He couldn't stay mad, though, especially not when he heard the familiar cooing of his peach filtering down the hall. 

"Where's your daddy, Rosie?" (Y/N) crooned, voice a soft murmur through the house, "We've got to talk to him about how hungry you are when you come over. Is he not giving you enough treats?"

Following the sound of her voice, Harry's lips curled instinctively into a soft smile when he spotted (Y/N) crouched next to his kitten, fingers massaging through her fur. There was a part of him that wanted to peer out the small window above her sink, ensuring no one was watching in—a part of him that he forcefully tamped down in favor of reveling in the sight of his stitched family. 

"You know I feed her," he drawled, leaning against the threshold of the entrance, "I don't know why she acts like this when we come over." 

It was the way (Y/N)'s features seemingly bloomed when she looked up at him. Her hand absently continued petting Rosemary, but it was clear all of her attention was splashed upon him. It was when her eyes were on him with nothing but adoration that had Harry happily anchored to the moment, warm and comfortable in his skin. He hoped he was able to make her feel that way when he looked at her. 

"Hey, H," she smiled, giving one last stroke to Rosie before she was standing to her feet and crossing the kitchen towards him, "I was going to ask you how work was, but you're on vacation." 

"I am, aren't I?" he mused, collecting her into his arms.

(Y/N) looped her arms around his neck while he hugged her around her middle, face cradled into the crook of her neck. His eyes fell closed reflexively, his chest expanding as he pulled in a deep breath. The sugary scent of her skin filled his lungs, her hair tickling his nose. 

"Are you excited?" she asked, trailing her fingers up and into his hair as she drew away. 

Matching her eyes, her question drifted away in favor of tipping forward and pressing a kiss to her lips. A giggled out his name against his mouth, muttering something about answering her, though Harry didn't pay it any mind. He focused on the give of her lips under his, the seam parting when she eventually melted into him. Her hands in his hair was a warming tether, keeping him from drifting out of her pastel kitchen. 

It was her that pulled away first, cutting off his indulgences earlier than he liked. He attempted to chase after her, craning his neck with puckered lips, though that only granted him a peal of her laughter fluttering between them. 

"Not in front of Rosie, H," she teased, unwrapping from his arms to move towards the stove where a warm oven and bubbling pan had gone unnoticed before. 

Harry stood back, watching as she stirred and tasted and adjusted, clicking on the light in her oven to take a peek inside. No matter how many times he'd offered to make dinner, take care of her meals—told her that he liked cooking, even—she had insisted that she wanted to take care of him, take one worry off of his plate. When she put it that way, he didn't feel like fighting with her. 

"She's seen worse, peach," he countered, leaning over the peninsula counter with his forearms flat on the surface. He had a perfect view into the domestic dream that was his (Y/N), complete with a bow in her hair despite the mess of a bun on the top of her head. 

A small laugh fell from her lips as she looked over her shoulder at him, "Maybe, but we shouldn't encourage it. Dinner's almost ready anyway, so we don't need to be distracted." 

"Yeah? What'd y'make?" He could see just the edges of something creamy in the pot she was stirring.

"Sabrina's family is visiting, and her dad gave me this recipe for stuffed shells with all this cheese and, like, spinach and stuff. I thought we'd try it out." She gave him a beaming smile when she finished whatever she was stirring, taking it off of the burner with the timer on the oven ticking down to less than two minutes. 

"That sounds really nice, love. Thank you. I've got dishes tonight." 

"Harry." A small scold—as expected.

"(Y/N)," he responded in the same arguing tone as she, "You're letting me—and my cat—stay here all weekend, 'm not letting us leave a mess here for you too. 'S alright." 

This was one of those things he didn't allow much room for argument on. It was one of those things—fear of feeling like a burden—that had come with the years on the run while attempting to ensure his impact was never felt. He was working on it, sure, but the least he could do for all of (Y/N)'s kindness was taking care of the dishes. 

"Okay," she relented, eyes rounding out as she looked up at him, "Just not tonight, though. I have something special for you after dinner." 

He did recall her saying something about making this weekend a thing for him, he just didn't really know what exactly that meant. "And, what's that?" 

A sheepish look crossed her face, softening her features and lining her eyes. "It's kind of silly, but I got some fun bath things and, like, candles and stuff. I wanted to make everything a little special tonight since it's your first extra, real day off in a long time." 

The longer she went on explaining herself, Harry could feel his own lips curling into a small smile. "Really?" he asked when she finally took a breath. 

"Yeah," she started, dropping her eyes from his, "But, you don't have to use them or anything if you don't want to. I know it might not really be your thing, and all." 

"Love," he crooned, the petname falling from his lips just for her to hear, "Thank you. That sounds really nice actually—don't remember the last time I took a bath like that. 'M always too worried about the water running cold." 

(Y/N)'s expression brightened at his words. "I'm excited for you to see all the stuff I got for you, then. But only after dinner—and dessert."

"Dessert?" 

"Of course dessert," (Y/N) smiled, moving back to the oven on the brink of beeping, "But that's a surprise." 

It was the way she looked at him before she gave her attention to the oven and baking pasta, how bubbly she seemed over something as simple as a surprise sweet for him to have at the end of the meal. That was what had him all but melting into the countertop. She could have fed him garbage and left him to soak in an ice bath and he'd be just as happy—all he needed was for her to keep looking at him like that. 

—————

"Are y'sure y'don't want me to do the dishes tonight?" 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, pulling out of Harry's embrace to head towards the kitchen and the plates waiting by the sink. "Yes, I'm sure, H. I want you to relax this weekend, I don't mind doing a couple of plates." 

"But—" 

"No," (Y/N) cut him off, plugging the sink before beginning to fill the basin with soapy water, "As soon as I get this ready, we're going to my bathroom and I'm showing you all the stuff I got for you, and then you're going to not think about the kitchen again for the rest of the night." 

"I'm not?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at her insistence. Sometimes it was fun to argue with her for no other reason than he liked to see her put her foot down with a smoke to her gaze. 

He thought it was cute.

"Nope. Not even for a second." Amusement covered her own features by the time she cut the tap and turned to face him. "C'mon." 

With that, she flitted out of the kitchen with socked feet padding over the flooring. She didn't have to look back to know Harry was following. 

Tailing her through the house with his gaze carefully landing on the round of her hips as they swayed with her steps, she took him to her bathroom. There, on the counter, was a brown paper bag with a white painted logo on the front. A gifting ribbon had the handles tied together on top,  a tag with his name dangling from the tendril. 

In presentation, (Y/N) stood off to the side of the counter, a beaming smile on her face as she flourished her hands out. "Happy free weekend." 

"What's this, hm?" he hummed, stepping over the tile with his gaze narrowed teasingly in her direction. 

"Your bath stuff," she said, practically bouncing in her spot as he began reluctantly untying the bow. He wanted to keep it perfect—he couldn't remember the last time he received a gift, especially one like this. 

Harry could feel his eyes on her as he began digging through the bag. Floating on top were two powdery spheres, striped in alternating colors with dried flowers stamped inside. He settled them gently on the counter, his hands coming away with remnants of the sweet smelling dust. 

"They're bath bombs," (Y/N) piped up, "They're those things that dissolve in the water and make it colorful with all these nice skin things in them. The purple one is lavender and sage, and the blue one is lotus and jasmine."

Smiling at her explanation, he reached back inside the bag. A glass bottle filled with sweet smelling oil was his next find, the wax seal corking it closed having dripped its way down to the label. He could smell the warm, floral notes from here, even with the contents sealed away. Looking at the simple label wrapped around the thick of the bottle, he looked up at her with raised brows. 

"Massage oil?" 

It was the way she hesitated that had his lips stretching into a smile. "Its—I—It doesn't have to be used for that. It can just be a nice body oil if you want, but I... I mean if you want a massage, I could use that, so." 

So far, this was his favorite gift from her reaction alone. He settled it with a clink next to the bath bombs. "I'll keep that in mind." 

Next in line was a candle, standing tall in a cold glass voice in the bag. Pulling it out, the four wicks were sealed away with the help of the suctioned lid, showing off the marbling of the wax tucked inside. It was a swirling jade color, complete with lapping white streaks to emulate the gemstone. Under the just right light, he could see bursts of glitter suspended inside. The label boasted a vanilla sage scent, surely meant to match the sage bath bomb he'd picked up earlier. 

"Peach," he smiled, looking at his gifts spread out on the counter for him, "These are so nice, than—" 

"There's more," she bubbled, unable to contain herself this time, "At the bottom." 

He raised a brow but dug inside like she suggested. At the bottom, his fingertips brushed something smooth and flat. Getting his fingers around it, Harry already had a good idea of what he was pulling out, a smile spreading over his features and denting his cheeks with dimples. 

It was a book—one of his favorites from the library. One he had loved enough that he wished he had his own copy to keep him company—something he had told (Y/N). The cover was the black and white with splashes of red, the artwork glossier than what he had borrowed from the library. The spine was uncracked, kept in pristine condition—just the way he liked it.

"I know you've already read it, but I thought you might want to read a little again while you take your bath," (Y/N) mused at his side, her hands in a fumbling bundle before her. 

"(Y/N)," Harry sighed, looking up from his new, personal edition, "This is all wonderful, really. Thank you, so much." 

With his book still in hand, he collected her in his arms, tucking her against his chest. While he wasn't one hundred percent sure what all of the things he had received were, it was more than warming to think about her perusing a shop with him in mind, plucking things up with the intention of sharing them only with him. 

"I know it's all kind of silly, but I'm happy you like it," she murmured into his shoulder, the curl of her smile felt against the cuff. 

"'S not silly," he told her, drawing back just enough to get a look in her eyes, "I can't remember the last time anyone has done anything like this for me. I really like all of it, (Y/N). Thank you." 

Tipping his chin, he pressed his lips to hers, hoping she felt his words as much as she heard them. He felt eased when her lips molded into a soft smile. 

"I'm happy I could change that," she cemented, beginning to untangle himself from his hold, "I'll leave you to it, then. Take as long as you want, I'm just going to clean up and we'll go to bed—" 

"You're not staying with me?" 

How was he supposed to enjoy all of these trinkets and things without her there? What was the point of a sage candle and glittery bath bomb if she wasn't going to be indulging with him? 

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks, one foot out of the bathroom. "Oh—um, no? I was going to go clean the kitchen and things, remember?" 

"Yeah, but," he started, watching to reach out and keep her on the tiled floor with him, "can y'do that later?" 

"Do you want me to?" was her simple response. 

Harry nodded. "Yeah." 

Her features were warm, taking a step back into the bathroom with him. "Then, I'll do it later." 

It didn't take long for their clothing to be shed, lying in a lumpy file on the floor with the tub filled to the brim with steaming water. Harry had chosen the lavender bomb to be placed in the water, (Y/N) all too excited to show him the magic of the fizzy powder. She had urged him to sink in first, her gaze following the lines of his body before she had gone after him. 

Harry wrapped his arms around her as she sunk into him, his chest to her back. The steaming water rippled around them, scenting the air with crisp lavender and warming sage. Every deep breath he took had the bunching in his muscles lessening and lessening until he was lax with (Y/N) in his hold. He could feel her every breath, the expanding of her chest that pressed back into him, the brush of her hair drifting through the surface of the water and tickling his skin, the careful way she had her hands laying atop his own where they were threaded over the soft of her stomach. It was easy for his eyes to shutter closed with his head tipping back against the rim of the tub. 

It was almost enough to keep him from acknowledging the curve of her body pressed against his cock.

Now wasn't the time though, he starkly reminded himself, taking in a deep breath of the calming lavender. She had wanted to relax with him, not get felt up with a dick pressing against her ass. 

"Do you like it?" 

The sound of (Y/N)'s crooned words had him blinking his eyes open. He wasn't even hard yet, how could she know that he was already talking himself down? 

"What?"

"The bath bomb," she laughed, oblivious, "You said you've never used one before, right?" 

"Oh," he sounded, exhaling finally, "Yeah. 'S nice—it smells really nice. I could fall asleep in here.”

Twisting in his arms, (Y/N) shot him a beaming smile over her shoulder. "I have before—I don't recommend." 

"Yeah?" he smiled, much more willing to focus on this anecdote than on the way the shifting of her body hit points on him he would have rather ignored for the time being. 

"Oh yeah," she cemented, shaking her head, "I only woke up when I felt water going up my nose 'cause I started slipping." 

Though she laughed off the remark, a frown settled on Harry's lips. "Y'almost drowned? (Y/N)..."

Her name came out as a scold, one that had her letting out another peal of laughter. "No, I didn't drown, H—" 

"You almost did," he pointed out. 

There were parts of him, traits that he gained during his years protecting his mother and sister, that were now woven into the fabric of his personality. Hearing (Y/N)'s story had that protective gene flaring up in him, urging him to hold her tighter, keep her at his side. He wouldn't let his mind wander to another version of events where she hadn't spasmed awake when the warm water touched her nose. 

His limbs became a warming cradle around her form, caging her to him lest the bathtub somehow raise tsunami waves and try to pull them apart. He pressed his lips to the back of her shoulder, speaking against the skin, "I don't like that." 

(Y/N) wiggled her hands underneath his, turning her palms up to match his own with her fingers threading between. "It's just a funny story, H. I'm fine—you know I don't take baths, like, ever, anyway." 

His brows pinched into a furrow. Sure, maybe he did know that. "Still," he grumbled.

Harry's petulance only served to draw another breath of laughter from her chest. 

She wriggled in his hold some, melting into him as she slid deeper into the water. The milky shaded water ripped around her, Harry keeping her close as she settled with her head resting against his shoulder. 

"I'm fine, Harry," she cemented, peeking up at him with an adoring smile on her features, "But, you're cute for worrying." 

Taking in a deep breath, he did nothing more than dropping another kiss to the cuff of her shoulder. He wasn't trying to be cute—he was protective. It was a part of his nature. 

Shuttering his eyes, Harry indulged himself and allowed his kissing to continue down her shoulder, only stopping when the lapping line of the water halted him. With his fingers laced between hers, he pulled her arm out of the pastel bath. He dotted his lips down the line of her limb, nose skimming her skin in his wake and raising goosebumps. A plume of laughter left his peach, the sound enough to have his own smile taking place as he fought to smear his lips over her skin. 

It wasn't until he was headed towards her wrist, landing on the soft underside of her arm that he slowed when he, through cracked eyes, spotted a slash that had made a home in her skin. It was small, though it looked only partially healed—still a warm red and slightly raised.

"What happened here?" he murmured, a pinch furrowing his brow. 

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed dazedly, shuffling in his hold before spotting what had made him stop in the first place, "Oh, Rosie scratched me by accident." 

It was something so minor, completely mundane and curable. The scratch wouldn't even scar, and yet Harry still felt his shoulders deflate. He would have to remind Rosemary to be gentle with her mother—she was entirely too special, no need to have claws out when being held by her. 

He apologized for his cat with a small press of his lips to the cut. 

Under the cover of the pastel water, (Y/N) untangled her hand from his that was still laid against her stomach. He was left to feel the give of her plush skin under the pads of his fingertips while she carded her own through his hair. Though he attempted to continue the dotted affection of his kiss over her skin, he didn't stand much of a chance as he reveled under her touch. 

Maybe it was the brush of her nails against his scalp, or the slight give of her body under his hand, or just the fact that he could feel every line of her body against his own, but Harry felt his stomach tense then. It was minute and fleeting, but something he felt under the blocking muscles of his abdomen. 

He attempted to keep a lid on whatever that feeling could lead to by taking a deep breath, but that only reminded him of (Y/N)'s skin right under his nose and the fact that she had been the one to run him this bath and that was why she was naked, and warm, and wet, and pressed right against him, and that was why his hands were on her and—

"H?" 

Blinking his eyes open and drawing away from her, Harry looked up to match her wide eyes. "Hm?" 

There was something teasing on her expression, lighthearted in her eyes with a small tug edging on the corner of her mouth. "Are you okay? You weren't breathing for a second." 

"Oh," he sounded, mouth dry, "Sorry." 

She shook her head, murmuring something about him being funny or cute or something, but, admittedly, Harry didn't have an ear to lend at that moment as (Y/N) started moving around him. Wriggling out of his hold, Harry stayed still in the water as she maneuvered around until she deposited herself in his lap. Her thighs were spread to cushion his hips, her bottom settled on the thick of his thighs while her chest was flush against his. Only trickles of the lavender water were able to make their way between her breasts and the curves of her body, leaving her shimmering with the scented oil on her skin and suddenly warmer than the steaming water. 

Looking up at her, Harry took his time tracing the lines of her piled hair with the wet ends sticking to her skin, warm cheeks glowy and dewy, the soft light reflecting in her eyes from the candle she had lit and stationed behind their cuddled bodies. He felt breathless—reverent. 

It was never far from his mind just how deeply (Y/N) had impacted him. Without her, he never would have been knocked out of the daze that was his life—the cycle of never-ending loneliness and purposeless decisions. She had changed him in ways he was scared of, the ways that he had avoided for years because it was easier to stay the same. He didn't enjoy thinking of who he would be without her, where he would be. 

It was with that knowledge and the sight before him, that Harry wanted nothing more than to worship her and show her the purple that he had been given now that she was in his life. Religion wasn't anything that ever consoled him during his years on the run, but if the temples and altars had looked like her, the gods held her kind eyes and warming touch, he may have reconsidered. 

"You can touch me, you know." 

Dropping back to earth with a flutter of his eyes, he realized his hands were lax at his sides, careful to keep a distance from her skin. She had been the one to tie her arms around his neck, to keep their bodies close, while he had basked in the sight of her alone. 

"Sorry," he murmured, placing his palms on the full curve of her thighs. 

He skated them over her form, taking in the rounded edges of her body and warm skin. He'd touched her before, enough times to have mapped out every crook and groove, and yet, it still felt like the first time when he allowed him to feel. It would never get old knowing that he had someone like her that loved him enough to allow his hands to land on her. 

"Don't be sorry," she murmured, ducking her head until she planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I just don't want you to feel like you can't touch me—I'm yours, H, remember?" 

There was that stirring again in his stomach, that tensing in his muscles that felt much deeper and lower than he would have liked during a relaxing cuddle with his girlfriend. It was just the reminder, that declaration that got to him just like it always did. 

(It was a bit embarrassing, in Harry's opinion. Would it always be this easy to work him up? Would (Y/N) always be able to say a handful of words, let his hands wander to her hips, and then he would be done for?) 

"You're mine," he sighed, sinking deeper into the water. 

It was (Y/N)'s turn then to trail her lips over his skin, the pillows of her lips never fully lifting from his skin before she was planting another kiss. She went on with the tip of her nose smushing against the line of his jaw as she worked down to the column of his throat. He could feel himself growing harder and harder with every kiss, every brush of his hands over her body, until he was sure (Y/N) was well aware as well. Though she made it abundantly clear she didn't mind when she rocked her hips against his, his cock pressed against his stomach and the soft core between her thighs. 

A shuddering exhale caved his chest. 

"I'm yours," she crooned, the heat of her words fanning over his heated skin.

Her own arms wrapped around his neck began to drift, leaving only one tangled in the waves of his hair with the blunt of her nails tracing his scalp. Her touch skated down the length of his chest, her eyes settling into a daze as they followed the journey of her hand until it disappeared under the water. His abdomen jumped under her hand the lower she went until the heel of her palm grazed the plumped head of his cock.

He couldn't help the way he tossed his head back, leaning into the palm of her hand. His voice came out in a breath, "I want you so bad, peach, I'm so sorry." 

(Y/N) drew away just enough to match his eyes, her wandering hand settling against the middle of his chest. "Why are you sorry?" she asked with amusement in her eyes, a soft smile on her lips as she shook her head, "You don't have to be sorry." 

"Jus'" he started, focusing on the sight of her as opposed to the weight of her form and warmth of her skin against him, "I don't... Don't want to ruin tonight since you're already doing so much, and you're only trying to relax and 'm reacting like this and—" 

She cut him off with her lips pressing against his, the edges of her mouth unable to fall in line with her kiss as she fought back a smile. "Do you think I don't want you, too, right now? If I didn't, I wouldn't be climbing all over you, H—or trying to get you to take me back to my room." 

Shifting on his lap once more, (Y/N) emphasized her point with a small roll of her hips against him, her warmth grazing over his length. 

His hands on her waist tensed, denting into her flesh with stern fingertips. Was she asking for what he hoped—what he'd been wanting but was too fearful to ask for in worry of pushing her?

His mouth felt dry as he took in her features, watching as something heated lingered in her irises. "A-Are y'sure?" he mumbled, unwilling to misread the conversation. (Y/N) loved taking care of him, he never wanted her to think he was intending to take advantage of that. 

Carding her fingers through his hair, the tip of her tongue peeked out from between her lips to run along the seam. "I've really missed you, H. It's not always enough just to call you before I fall asleep, you know. It's not the same as actually having you." 

A spark pinged in his chest at her words, the memories they dredged up. A couple of times over the last week with his busy schedule, they'd spent some extra time on the phone before (Y/N) fell asleep for the night and Harry worked through an especially long shift. He knew exactly what she meant: now that he knew what it was like to be touched by her, his own hand, his own fantasies paled so starkly in comparison it was almost embarrassing. 

"I can take care of you, peach. 'M sorry I haven't been doing m'job, but I'll make it up to you," he crooned, tipping his head in hopes of pulling her in for a kiss, "Y'want m'mouth or m'fingers, love?" 

It was only when she shook her head that he paused. That hand trapped between their bodies made a deliberate graze down his body until she skated her fingertips over his length, the ruddy head twitching over her touch. "I want you," she corrected, "Don't you want to fuck me?" 

Maybe it was the fact she rarely cursed, or just how intensely she was meeting his eyes, or the feel of her grabbing his cock, but Harry could have blown it all right then. His throat felt thick as he attempted to swallow down the moan building in his chest. His eyes were hooded, a vignette forming around his view of her. 

It would be so easy to sink inside her, split open her walls and make a home between them. All he needed was to shift his hips just right, and then he would be taking advantage of her spread legs and the slick around them. But, his worry of disappointing her—leaving her unsatisfied—held him back. 

His mouth felt dry by the time he found his voice. "I—um—(Y/N)," he started, unsure of how exactly to divulge the information in him, "'S been a while since I've—..." 

He wasn't sure what he was expecting her reaction to be, but he gladly took the small kiss she offered him, sealing his lips to hers. "How long?" 

"Since before everything," he sighed, allowing himself to sink into her kiss and the brush of her mouth against his, "I don't want to... leave y'unsatisfied if 'm not... good." 

That had her lips curling against his, a cluster of small kisses being pressed to the full of his lips before she pulled away. "It's going to be good before it's you, H. I'm not worried—I love you, remember?" 

Was it normal for him to feel his cock pulse at her declaration? Or was he really that easy? 

"I love you, too," he slurred before taking her mouth against his once more. It was messy and heavy, clumsy and unsure, but he didn't care. "I want to fuck you so bad, peach. Can I?" 

All it took was a soft nod of her head before he had his arms lacing underneath the thick of her thighs with the water splashing around the tub. He held her tight, grip stern as he stood tall in the pastel water. (Y/N) let out a bubbling laugh, clinging to him with a gasp as if he would ever drop her. 

With her pressed tightly to his chest, his cock was now fit snugly between the planes of his abdomen and the soft folds between her legs. Water sluiced down his form, a chill befalling his skin now that they'd left the steaming pool behind, though that had no effect on just how hard he was for his peach. 

"We didn't have to right away," (Y/N) laughed, fingers denting the broad of his shoulders, "If you weren't done—" 

"'M done," he cemented, dropping her onto the bounce of her mattress with only a small amount of guilt at getting so much water on her sheets. He'd change them for her later. "You're m'favorite way to relax, peach—don't need all the rest." 

Laid on the center of her bed with her skin gleaming and warm, scented so sweetly from their bath, Harry had a new level of respect for his self-control. But, that was in the past now, left in the bathroom along with the droplets of water on the floor and the candle he would have to remember to blow out before they fell asleep. 

Crawling on the mattress with his cock heavy between his legs, he fit his body between her spread legs, reveling in the plush of her thighs on either side of his hips. (Y/N) reached for him on instinct, looping her arms around his neck with the curls on the back of his neck dampening against her skin. 

"Hi, you," she murmured, a bubbly smile on her lips as if she hadn't just asked him to fuck her a moment ago. 

He could only shake his head, dropping a kiss to the bridge of her nose as he situated himself above him with his forearms stationed on either side of her head. "Hi, peach. What are you up to, hm?" 

"Nothing much," she laughed, hitching a thigh over his lip in a languid move to thrust him forwards. "You?" 

Harry's voice was stilted in his throat, feeling her slick folds give around his cock when his length split through. He could feel the minute pulsing of her clit against his base. "Jus' worried 'm not gonna last very long at all, nothing important," he attempted to joke, if only to feel of plume of her laughter fill the air. 

Instead, he garnered a smearing of (Y/N)'s lips against his own, her affection tender and lingering. "Don't worry about that," she urged him, "I don't care—I just want you to feel good." 

A furrow pinched his brow, his heart rattling when she rocked her hips underneath him as if it wasn't already hard enough to concentrate. "But, I want y'to feel good too, and—" 

"I will as long as you do," she reiterated, amusement sparking in her blown pupils, "I don't care if you finish early, just finish in me, that's all I ask." 

Harry couldn't contain the moan in his throat, the rumbling falling from his throat as he rested his forehead against hers with shuttered eyes. He could feel a bead of warm precum blurting from his tip, dripping to land on the soft of (Y/N)'s stomach with a pulse. 

"You're going to kill me," he murmured, not sure if he was speaking for her to hear, "D-Do y'need me to do anything f—" 

Cutting him off with a kiss, (Y/N) slipped her tongue between his lips only to offer a quick taste before she was pulling away once more. "You can feel how wet I am, right?" 

As if he could forget with the way she was pressed against the underside of his cock, the ridge of his head tight between their stomachs. He answered with a small nod. 

"Y-You're sure, then?" he murmured, attempting to tap into that self control he had back in the tub. 

"I want you, H," she assured, nothing teasing or urgent in her voice, only sincerity, "As long as you're ready, I am, too. It's just me—you don't have to worry." 

His only response came in the form of a small kiss and a declaration: "I love you, (Y/N)." 

"I love you too," she smiled into his kiss, a small roll of her hips turning his brain to mush. 

His breathing was strained as he reached between their bodies, his fist wrapping around his shaft. Looking down, he watched as she spread her thighs that much wider as he swiped his cock between her folds. She was sticky and wet, clinging to the width of him as he split her open enough for his head to kiss her clit. He could see the jump of her muscles, the small whine that chirped from her lips, but he couldn't seem to stop himself—especially when a thread of her slick stuck to him, only bowing and breaking when he reached his cock towards his stomach, too far for the string to extend. 

"Harry, please," she quietly pleaded with him.

The sound of her voice was just enough to knock him back into the universe. It was enough to remind him that this wasn't the main event, there was even more warmth and wetness to be explored. 

Pressing the tip of his cock to her opening, he held himself steady as he pressed his hips forward. It was a tight squeeze, a feeling that took his breath away. As much as he wanted to catch (Y/N)'s expressions, see exactly what she looked like as he sunk inside her for the first time, he couldn't seem to peel his eyes away from the sight of his cock fitting inside her core. With every stretch of his length pushing through, less and less coherent thought filtered through his head. 

Instead, all he could think about was the snug fit of her walls around him, the pulsing with every heartbeat, just how wet she was, the warmth that enveloped him and welcomed him deeper and deeper. By the time he bottomed out, his mouth had fallen into a gape and his arm propping him up was now shaky. His only anchor was the grip he moved to have on her hip, his palm slick and sticky from fisting his cock though he didn't have it in him to care. 

He really, really hoped (Y/N) meant it when she said she wouldn't mind if he blew it fast; he doubted he had much longer left, and he'd only just sunk inside. 

"Y'alright, peach?" he breathed, his words fanning across her skin when he finally looked up to reach her eyes. 

Looking at him with hooded eyes, the pupils wide, (Y/N) gave him her confirmation in the form of a jerky nod. "I'm okay," she mumbled, "Are you?" 

"'M good," he said, feeling drunk despite not a single drop of alcohol even being present in (Y/N)'s home, "'M so good, peach. 'M scared 'm too good." 

"It's okay," she smiled at him, if only a bit dazed when she threaded her fingers through his damp curls, "Just do whatever makes you feel good—that's enough for me." 

He wished he could have told her how much her affection meant to him, how he couldn't believe she loved him the way she did, how there was no one who had such an effect on him, but there was no way his tongue was going to follow any kind of command let alone any train of thought to actually form. Instead, he settled for a searing kiss against her already swollen lips. 

Though he doubted he would have any chance at composure, he still attempted to catch his breath and his brain before he reared his hips back for the first time. Pulling out of her warm channel was enough to add some form of clarity to his mind, though it didn't last long before he pushed forward in a shallow thrust. Her walls welcomed him in once more, warm and snug with every ridge forming around him in a pulse. (Y/N)'s thighs tensed around his hips, a slight tremor to her muscles though she managed to let out a sigh of pleasure against his kiss. 

"Fuck, peach," he murmured when he bottomed out once more, the crown of his length tapping her furthest walls. 

A furrow had his brows pinched though his eyes remained closed, even when he couldn't manage to kiss her anymore, his lips simply resting against her own parted ones. He shared panted breaths with her, his forehead resting on her own with (Y/N)'s fingers curling in his hair. 

Though the pace was slow, he was able to curate a rhythm that kept him from finishing right away. He didn't feel too far from the edge, but this was as good of a chance as he was going to get when she felt as good as she did. 

"H-Harry," she whined, her voice breathy and airy, "You're so big." 

His hips stuttered at her words, the previously shallow thrust he was working on turning into a harsh grind against her core. The jolt had another moan rumbling her chest with a curse falling from Harry's lips. 

"Y'can't say that, peach," he murmured, unable to keep his pacing, "You're gonna make me cum and we've barely started." 

Every stroke was indulgent, lingering when he wanted, harsh and deep when he changed his mind, anything and everything to his taste. His only chance was in moving his hand from her hip and shaky positioning it between his punishing hips and her forgiving core. At the apex of her folds, her clit pearled. Though his hand was shaky, he still managed to smear the pad of his thumb against the bud, feeling the budding pulse that matched the hammering of her heart. 

Suddenly coming to light, (Y/N) managed to bring him in for a kiss. It was sloppy and clumsy, leaving their lips swollen and teeth glancing off one another, but there wasn't any room for perfection. 

Harry needed her, that was all he knew. His stomach tightened with every thrust, his balls shining with her slick with every slap against her ass. (Y/N)'s thighs were warm and tight on either side of his pelvis, unwilling to let him venture too far before accepting him back inside. 

"(Y/N)," he panted, shaking his head, "P-Peach, 'm so sorry." 

"Don't be sorry, do—shit—don't be sorry, H. I want you to cum, okay? Cum in me, please." 

How was he supposed to deny her? What kind of boyfriend would he be if he said no to such pretty words?

Keeping his thumb running circles around her swollen clit, Harry couldn't stop himself before harshly thrusting inside her and pausing when he felt the first spasm wrack through his abdomen. There was a bunch to his muscles he hadn't even realized until the thread keeping them together snapped. 

Ropes of his cum spurted out, decorating and flooding her walls with every pulse. She grew impossibly wet around him, his thumb barely keeping track as he tried to tend to her clit even through the tremors. He ground his hips against hers, unwilling to draw away even an inch out of her warmth as he came.

The world slowly came back into focus as he pulled in puffs of air, (Y/N) delicately kissing his bottom lip. He felt so hot, sticky despite the bath he'd just soaked in. 

Was sex always like this? He couldn't recall ever coming this hard, but had it been too long for him to remember? Or was this another (Y/N)-only thing? He could readily believe that highs like this only came from being in her arms. 

"Still with me?" his peach murmured, a wanton edge to her voice that reminded him that there were much more important things than his own pleasure. 

He nodded, finally reciprocating her kiss. "'M here, peach. I've got you."

Despite the oversensitivity beginning to leak into his system, he managed to grind into her just enough to match the swirling of his thumb against her clit. She gasped into his mouth, allowing him to slip his tongue past her lips and sweep over her own. He got a taste of her pleasured moans, reveling in the feel until it seemingly became too much for her. 

In a way he was now familiar with, (Y/N) let out a chirping moan, delicate and shaky into his mouth. That was the first sign before her fingers in his hair began to tug at the roots in a stinging pull, and toes curled. Her pussy clung to the shape of his cock, his cum overflowing around himself and dripping down to the bed under her ass as she gushed around him. His oversensitivity had him crying out a call of her name, her pulsing walls almost too hot to handle as she came around him. 

He could have done this all night, Harry decided. He could have pet his fingers over her clit and pressed into her walls for hours if not for the fact that they were both beginning to see the less than favorable side of sensitivity. 

"'M gonna pull out, okay?" he panted, blinking his eyes open to find his (Y/N)'s still shuttered. She answered in a quiet nod, her lips parted as she breathed. 

Though it was a bit reluctant, he drew his hips back in a slow glide. His softening cock slipped out with a wet sound as (Y/N) unfurled her legs from around him. A small whine left her lips, but she didn't stop him, only clinging to him.

Settling in bed beside her, reaching for one of the pillows stationed at the head of the bed, Harry fixed it under their heads. (Y/N) instinctively rolled to face him, sharing the cushion with him. He gave her time as she came down, brushing his fingers through her hair and over the planes of her features until she managed to crack her eyes open. 

"Hi, you," he smiled, repeating her small tease from earlier. 

A plume of laughter fell from her lips, a slight smile forming on her kiss-swollen lips. "Hi. What are you up to?" 

"Nothing. Jus' looking at you." 

"Nothing important then, I see," she laughed, snuggling closer to him until Harry was collecting her into his arms with her head tucked into his neck.

"Very important, actually," he corrected, amusement draining from his tone, "Thank you, peach. Really." 

"You don't have to thank me, H," she countered, "I obviously got my own benefits out of this, so don't think I just did this for you." 

He knew she was trying to play with him, get him to loosen up, but he wasn't in the mood for that just yet. He was a touch too sentimental at the moment. 

"You know what I mean," he murmured, planting a kiss to the top of her head, "I jus' love you, and... always means a lot when y'trust me, and let me be with you. Thank you." 

"I love you, too, Harry," she reciprocated, her own arms giving him a pulsing hug, "It's easy to trust you, really. I wouldn't want to have these kinds of moments with anyone else—you're the best thing that ever happened to me, honey." 

Though he knew they needed to change her bedding, and blow out the candle in the bathroom, get (Y/N) cleaned up, and mop up the bathroom, Harry couldn't find any good reason to extract himself from her arms. 

There would never be a good enough reason that came above being with her like this. 

—————

ahhhhh! thank u sm for reading and to whoever requested this! sorry for any mistakes and if you have any fun ideas or requests of your own please send them in!! if you want to read more, you can check my patreon page:)

[guccifrog]

SHE🧸💸

chris sturniolo × f! reader the muwapgucci collab 🌺🍑 : in which matt and chris sturniolo are just two unexperienced losers @muwapsturniolo

Now Playing 🌺🍑

[she- tyler the creator, frank ocean] 0:26 ———♡——— 3:50 ◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷

"ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵗᵃˡᵏ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵒⁿᵛᵉʳˢᵃᵗᵉ ᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᴵ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˢᵗᵃˡᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵃˢᵗᵘʳᵇᵃᵗᵉ"

"FUCK!" Chris yelled as he slammed his fist against the desk, the veins in his neck bulging. He glared at the screen, where his character lay defeated on the floor. Matt and Nate were both grinning smugly on the screen. "It's not fair" he muttered under his breath.

"Maybe if you spent less time whining and more time playing you wouldn't lose," Nate taunted from the screen. "Come on, kid, you're letting us win on purpose, aren't you?" He teased, shaking his head.

Chris rolled his eyes at Nate's comment, not bothering to respond. He knew they were just trying to get under his skin.

He was convinced that the only reason he lost was because he wasn't familiar with the game Matt had suggested, he was sure that if it was a different game he would've kicked their asses. Why you may ask? simply because Chris was aware of the fact that he was a loser, it wasn't a secret that he spent most of his free time playing video games, instead of doing what other teenagers his age do. Chris was a nerd and he knew it. He didn't have many friends, he didn't go to parties, he never had a girlfriend, hell he never even got his first kiss.

With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair, his hand resting lazily on the mouse. As he opened a new window on his computer, looking for a new game to play, until Matt and Nate were done with their current match.

Suddenly, the computer glitches out, the screen flashing a blue color. "What the fuck?" Chris mutters, confused. He slammed the mouse against the desk, making the screen go completely black. But before he could do anything else, the screen turns back on.

"Hey, what's going on?" Nate asks from the screen, his voice filled with confusion.

"My fucking screen was glitching out!" Chris paused. "And then it just...turned back on."

"Just check the cables"Matt suggested, before going back to the game.

"Maybe I should," Chris muttered, leaning forward to inspect the cables connected to his monitor. As he pulled out the cables, one of them snags on something on his desk, causing it to swing wildly. He reaches out to steady it but accidentally clicks on a random notification in the corner of the screen.

"A stream? " he wonders, clicking on the link, curious to see who's streaming. He opens the window and The first thing he sees is a beautiful woman, her hair spilling down her back. A white oversized button-up barely covering her lacey black bra and a tiny black thong. Her long legs were crossed, one hand toying with a strand of her hair as she read the comments from her viewers. 

Chris's breath hitched as he recognized the familiar face, he had seen countless times in the back of chemistry class, or walking down the hallway. A pair of thick-framed glasses usually covered her eyes, She was the quiet girl that no one really paid attention to. He always thought she was weird, the way she dressed, and the fact that she never seemed to have any friends. she'd always be by herself, sitting in a corner, always with her headphones on, and as soon as the bell rang, she'd quickly disappear.

He rubbed his eyes, thinking maybe he was hallucinating. He still couldn't believe it. There she was, on a live stream. Her face was slightly flushed, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips as she read through the comments. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen. Her tits moved slightly as she leaned forward, her breath hitching as she laughed at something someone had said.

"by the way guys" her voice came through his headset like a whisper, "I ordered some new lingerie and they came today" She paused, giving her viewers a wink before continuing " I'm going to give you guys a special show " her voice dropped an octave, sending a shiver down Chris's spine.

Chris felt his heart racing, his palms growing sweaty as he watched her. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. This was insane. She was going to do a show for them? A show? He didn't know what that meant, but it sounded dirty.

As he continued to watch, she reached up and slowly began to unbutton her shirt, making the whole process last for what seemed like an eternity. Her breasts, perfectly round and full, spilled out of her lacy bra, and she leaned back in her chair, giving the viewers a nice show. 

Chris's eyes were wide as he watched, his mouth going dry. he felt a strange mix of excitement and shame coursing through his veins. He glanced around, making sure no one was watching him, before returning his attention to the screen.

His eyes darted between the screen and her breasts, mesmerized by the sight before him. He felt his pants growing tight as she continued to tease her viewers, slowly sliding her fingers down her stomach, revealing more and more of her body. 

He felt like he was watching a dream, some sort of surreal experience that he couldn't wake up from. His heart pounded in his chest, and his breath came in ragged gasps. He could feel the warmth spreading through his body, pooling in places it hadn't before. He never felt this way before.

"Fuck" Chris muttered under his breath as her finger brushed against her panties. He glanced at Nate and Matt, who were still oblivious to what was happening, and back to the screen. He felt ashamed, this wasn't the kind of thing he should be watching, but he couldn't look away. Her hand slid further down, and for a brief moment, she parted her lips, a soft moan escaping her mouth. He bit down on his lip, trying to control the growing need in his pants, His heart raced as he watched her, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks as she closed her eyes.

"take it off?" She read a comment and chuckled before leaning forward even more" You guys know the rules" she winked, taking another deep breath as her fingers brushed against her soaked panties.

MILFPLEASER sent one thousand dollars!

Chris froze, his eyes wide with disbelief as he read the message on the screen. 

she let out a laugh, a mix of surprise and delight. "Goodness," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Well if you insist..." Her gaze flicked up to meet the camera for a brief moment before darting away again. She moved her hands to her waistband, slowly sliding down her panties, revealing her smooth, wet folds. A gasp escaped her lips as the cool air of the room brushed against her. Her face flushed with excitement, as she bit her lip, trying to steady her breath.

Chris couldn't believe what he was seeing. This was beyond anything he had ever imagined, and his throat felt tight. He glanced down at his pants, wondering if he'd be able to maintain his composure for much longer.

As she continued to tease the viewers, she moved her hips back and forth, rocking her body in time with the sensation. Her breasts swayed with each movement, and her eyes were half-closed, lost in the pleasure. Chris felt like he was intruding on something private, but he just couldn't look away.

His hips jerked forward as he watched her, his breath coming in uneven gasps. He could feel the blood rushing to his crotch, faster and faster, making it hard to think straight. He glanced at Nate and Matt again, but they were still oblivious.

Her movements were hypnotizing, and Chris felt himself growing harder with each passing moment, that it was starting to hurt. He wanted to touch himself, to relieve the ache building up in his crotch, but he was afraid Nate and Matt might notice. His gaze darted between her and his friends once again, What would they say if they found out he was watching this? Would they think he was weird? Perverted?

She slowly got up from her chair, her movements smooth. She turned her back to the camera, her long, shapely legs coming into view. With one hand, she reached down and picked up a piece of clothing from the floor. She turned around, revealing her bare behind to the screen, humming along to the sound of Agora Hills by Doja Cat playing softly in the background.

She raised her arms above her head, the piece of cloth dangling from one hand, it was a pink, lacy thong. Her movements were slow and deliberate, her tits swaying with each breath. She lowered her hands, teasingly, letting the thong slide between her legs, using her hands to pull it up.

Her back arched as she stepped into the thong, pulling it up her legs, and adjusting it until it sat perfectly on her hips. She turned around, facing the camera again, and let out a contented sigh. "what do we think?." She giggled, running her fingers through her hair.

Chris reached his limit. He couldn't take it anymore. His pants were unbearably tight, and he was afraid he might lose control. Without thinking, his hand snuck down to his crotch, his palm pressing against the bulge in his pants. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he pulled his aching erection through the fabric, finally free. He stroked himself slowly, trying to find some relief from the unbearable tension.

He bit his lip, afraid he might make a sound as he continued to stroke himself. His hips moved involuntarily, mimicking the motions he had seen on the screen before. He glanced back at Nate and Matt, still focused on the game, but he could feel his head spinning. The tension was building up inside him, making it hard to focus on anything else.

The girl on the screen continued to tease the viewers, moving her hips suggestively as she talked about the thong. Chris's hand moved faster and faster, his grip tightening on his aching erection. He felt like he was on the verge of climaxing, but he couldn't afford to lose control. Not here, not now.

"Chris?" Nate's voice snapped him out of his trance. He groaned glancing over at his friend, who was looking at him with a mix of confusion and concern. "You okay, man? You've got the weirdest look on your face."

He was screwed. There was no way he could come up with a believable excuse for why he was jerking off on call. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck as he looked at Nate and Matt, his face burning with shame. "Uh... yeah I just hit my hand while checking the cables." He lied, forcing a weak laugh. "It's fine."He managed to say, His hand still working furiously beneath the desk.

"Oh, okay." Nate nodded, looking a bit unconvinced but letting it drop. "So, uh... wanna play another round ?" Chris glanced back at the computer screen, where she was now sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg casually slung over the side. Her hair fell over her shoulder, and she batted her eyelashes at the camera as she talked about her favorite lingerie pieces. She was looking right at him as if she knew exactly what he'd been doing. Her lips curved into a knowing smile.

Chris felt his face flush even deeper. "I'm not really feeling it, I have to go to the bathroom," he lied, pulling his hand away from his crotch and trying to hide his erection. "Why don't you play another round with Matt?" He stood up abruptly, making his way over to the door.

 As he walked to the bathroom. He glanced around, making sure no one was in there, before slipping inside and closing the door. he tried to steady his breath and calm his racing heart. He leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths and willing his erection to go down. The image of the girl on the screen, teasing him with her body, was burned into his brain. He wanted nothing more than to go back in there and finish what he started. But he knew he couldn't.

He let out a long, shaky breath and straightened up, trying to regain some semblance of control. He felt like he was on the edge of a cliff, wobbling between sanity and complete, overwhelming desire. The image of the girl kept creeping into his thoughts, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

His hand made its way back to his crotch, desperate for relief, but he stopped himself. He forced his hand back down to his side. This wasn't like him. He wasn't some pervert who jerked off in front of his friends. He was better than that. He took another deep breath, trying to push the image of the girl out of his mind. He glanced at himself in the mirror, seeing the flush in his cheeks and the wild look in his eyes. He took a few more deep breaths, trying to clear his head. 

Watching her felt like a pill, and he was helpless to resist. The need to touch himself was overwhelming, but he forced his hand to stay glued to his side. He couldn't believe he was acting like this. He was usually so in control of himself, but she had him completely undone. He wished he could just forget about her, but she was burned into his mind, her every movement etched into his memory.

How did this even happen? Chris thought to himself as he sat down on the bathroom floor. He remembered finding the link and clicking on it out of curiosity. It had seemed innocent enough, just a girl from his class talking about her favorite lingerie. But He couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen, he couldn't resist the urge to touch himself as he watched her.

what's worse, was the fact that she wasn't just some random girl on the internet. She was the weird girl from chemistry class that everyone seemed to forget about, no one ever paid attention to her before, she was just there. But now, she was the center of attention. And it was driving Chris mad. He couldn't get her out of his head. He knew he should just ignore her, forget about her just like before, but he couldn't.

He felt like a creep like there was something wrong with him. He felt like he was stalking her, and watching her every move, wanting to touch her in ways he shouldn't. It was unhealthy, he knew that. But he couldn't help it. She was like a drug, and he was addicted.

taglist ☆@mattestrella@chrisfavoritepepsi@sunsetsturniolos@littlebookworm803@sturniozo@sturniolooooo@athaliahxoxo@rac00ns-are-c00l4@ev3rgreenxtrees@nonamegirlxsturniolo @mooniethesimp31 @ducksturniolo@ifilwtmfc @pepsiimaxx @sleepysturnss @lustfulslxt @ilovemattsworld @hrt-attack @flowerxbunnie @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @secret-sturniolo @that-general-simp @swangelss @familynotfandom @fuckshitslover @styles-sturniolo @lvr-111 @opheliaofficial07 @kiarastromboli @hearts4chriss @braindead4l @sturniolosreads @mattsturnzzz09 @itssophiasstuff @mayhem-72 @b2cute @buckys-celestes @graceciesiels22@urmom2bitch@junnniiieee07@breeloveschris@b2cute@1horrormoviewhore1@mattswrld@urmom2bitch @andreea2992 @luverboychris @mattslolita @thenickgirl

[tinyowlthoughts]

Humans are Space Orcs - Chocolate

"Ugh, I would kill for some chocolate right now."

Gorvan fumbled the holopad he'd been typing on, all four hands brushing against the screen as he tried to keep it from hitting the ship floor. He failed and it bounced off the tiles - thankfully neither breaking, nor denting the flooring. Grimacing, he swept it up with his tail and checked over the casing, before the alarming words registered in his head. A glance at the couch showed the human - Max - hadn't moved - still twisted up in their weird, pretzely way, chin in their weird five-fingered hand as they peered at the passing stars with a far-away look in their eyes.

"You, uh, want...chocolate?" He asked, certain he'd misheard.

"Oh my god, yes." Max heaved a sigh, shoulders rising to their weird, inefficient ears before dropping back down. "Jesus, I'd even eat a Hershey's Bar right now."

Gorvan gripped his tablet with two of his hands, hard enough to crack the casing. "Oh, um - what is a 'Hershey'?"

Max didn't look away from the window, still lost gazing into the galaxy. "It's a type of chocolate bar from Earth. Maybe a Mars Bar or a Milky Way would be better..."

Gorvan huffed through his nostrils, tail lashing anxiously behind him. "Oh. Um. I - er, I forgot I have a meeting with Captain! I have to go." Without waiting for an answer he turned and fled the recreation room, hooved feet clattering against the floor, desperate to report what he had heard. He missed the bemused look Max gave him before returning to his star gazing.

🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫

"Max."

The human paused upon entering the meeting room, seeing the rest of the C7H8N4O2 Star Explorer gathered around the table. All eight were tense in their seats, and the moth-like Elaana looked like she'd been crying. (Well, the species equivalent, which appeared as a dusting of pollen along her sharp cheekbones.)

Taurvin, the captain, was sitting in the largest seat at the head of the table, his considerable bulk looming over the rest of them. Oddly, the first-mate seat to his left was empty. Gorvan was instead sitting in Max's own.

"Uh, hey all. We playing musical chairs?" Max glanced between the empty chair and Gorvan, but when nobody asked for an explanation to their odd human reference (a common occurrence), they figured it wasn't the time for jokes.

"Have a seat, Max." Taurvin motioned to the first mate seat and, with a bit of hesitation, Max moved to take it. Luckily Gorvan, despite being bulky himself, wasn't too much larger than a standard human and the chair was comfortable enough. "We have something important to address."

Oh god above, what had they done this time? Max tried to think back to all the interactions he'd had onboard the last few weeks, but couldn't come up with anything too egregious. Sure, there was the whole joke with 'human snot is acidic' thing but that had been more of a gross-out joke for Elaana, the ships medic, who hadn't seemed to upset when he accidentally sneezed on her a few days later and dropped the act. Epitak, the ships engineer, had been pretty pissed when ze found out Max had taken apart the air filtration unit in their quarters to try and understand how it worked, but ze had also walked him through repairing it, so they thought it was all forgiven.

Oh jeeze, had they found the plans to get a kitten onboard under the 'emotional assistance animal' loophole?

"Max." Taurvin's normally jolly voice was grave, and all the crews eyes were on them as he spoke. "It has come to my attention that you have been expressing some...troubling thoughts."

Okay, definitely the kitten thing then. "Look, I can explain," they started, but Taurvin held up a large, three-fingered hand and stopped them.

"I do not want you to feel pressured to speak to us if you do not wish to. As a member of the Intergalactic Exploration Society, you have access to mental health resources at no cost, any time, anywhere. I will be more than happy to assist you in setting up a link to a therapist through HR and, if required, will grant you time off the ship if you need it. You are the best navigator I have ever seen, and I do not want to lose you."

"Well, thanks, but uh, what do you mean?" Max glanced around the table and noticed that their normally upbeat crew were all showing signs of distress (Elaana was brushing away newly fallen pollen from her compound eyes).

"Max, you requested chocolate." Gorvan reminded them. "This morning, you said you would even eat a substance known as a Hershey Bar from your home planet." The human had never heard the first mate sound so distressed. When Max just blinked, Epitak took over, beak clacking anxiously as ze spoke.

"We understand that many planets have government programs in place for self euthanasia," ze explained, technical as always in his word choice, "but we aboard this ship would much rather assist you in healing rather than lose you, despite what you may feel is best for you. Suicide by theobromine is not the way forward."

"...what."

"It's okay, love!" The pollen was flowing freely from Elaana's eyes now, and she blinked it away with her long lashes. If there weren't a table between them, Max was sure she would have bundled them up in a full-wing hug and refused to let them go. "We'll support you through it all, we promise. You're part of our crew - our family, and we never want you to feel otherwise!"

"Well, uh, thanks. I see you all as family too...?" Max glanced at the four remaining crew members. Dhaca and Lenzoill were quiet but obviously upset, Qhals was staring at the ceiling with their fanged muzzle pulled into a tight grimace, and Ir'ith was -

Ir'ith was smirking.

Max narrowed their eyes at the inventory manager who also served as the ships cook (for the simple fact that he was the only one onboard who could cook). The zad merely shrugged when their eyes met, though his grin was growing.

"I think I'm missing something here." Max admitted, looking between Gorvan and Taurvin. "This is all because I got a chocolate craving?"

"A craving?" Elaana almost lunged across the table at the word, the only thing holder her back Ir'ith's hand on her shoulder. "You mean you've had chocolate before?"

"Well, yeah? All the time." Max was not expecting the horrified expressions they received.

"So humans treat theobromine as a drug?" Epitak asked, aghast.

"Noooo...? It's a dessert. Like, a sweet treat." Max had no idea what was going on now, but by the way Ir'ith's shoulders were shaking, he did. "Hershey's is a candy bar."

"Wait," Dhaca finally spoke up, leaning forward and shoving his glasses (well, glass - one lens for one eye and all) to the top of his head, "theobromine is not toxic to humans?"

"I'm assuming that theo-stuff is chocolate?" When Dhaca nodded, Max nodded in return. "Yeah, no, chocolate isn't toxic to humans. I ate it all the time on Earth."

Ir'ith gave up and cackled, sounding a bit like the grackles Max used to watch in their back garden on Earth. The avian's wings flapped a few times as he laughed, having to lean forward and grasp his stomach with taloned claws to keep himself from falling out of his chair. When he finally glanced up at Max, it was to the flattest look the human could manage, which only sent him into another gale of laughter.

Taurvin sighed, pinching the bridge of his boar-like snout. "I believe this has all been a misunderstanding," he spoke over the cooks laughter, which had turned into squeaky gasps. "Dismissed."

A few befuddled glances were thrown Max's way, but the rest of the crew were quick to leave, avoiding Ir'ith's flapping wings as they squeezed out of the room. Soon only the cook, first mate, captain, and navigator were left.

"Sorry, kid." Ir'ith finally came up for breath, wiping at his eyes as he regained his composure. He fished into one of the many pockets that adorned his poncho and produced a bar wrapped in purple foil, which he tossed to Max. The human caught it and felt their whole face light up. "No hard feelings, right?"

"None at all, dude!" Max tore open the wrapping and took a big bite of the Cadbury Dairy Milk Bar, nearly melting at the familiar, sweet flavor exploding on their tongue.

"For the record," Ir'ith said as he stood, cracking his back, "Zad's can eat chocolate to. Let me know next time you have a craving." He sauntered out of the room, humming happily.

The three sat in silence for a moment, other than the crinkle of the chocolate bar wrapper. Finally, Taurvin cleared his throat.

"Max, I apologize for not conferring with you in private beforehand." The captain sighed. "I did not wish to embarrass you, but an intervention was suggested and I believed that comfort from your crew would be the best way to show the seriousness of our support were you truly entertaining the thought of self euthanasia."

The human shrugged. "It was nice to hear you all care about me, even though I've only been on board a few months," they admitted. "And I got chocolate out of it." He wiggled the remains of the bar.

"Still, if you ever feel the need for mental health services, they are available to you. And if there is ever anything I or the rest of the crew can do to assist you in that way, please don't hesitate to ask." Taurvin placed a hand on his chest and bowed his head, a show of sincerity for his people.

"Well," Max tapped the chocolate against their chin in thought, "there may be one thing. Have you ever heard of cats?"

Next: Bluffing

Original Reddit Prompt:

[vivwritesfics]

Pastry

Boyf Oscar moments

1.3K

I need moots

"Oscar Pastry!" She sang as she skipped towards the McLaren garage.

The Australian in question glared at her, but it was a good thing his glare made him look like an angry puppy.

"That's not my name," he said as she came closer.

Y/N thought for a minute. "No, no. I think it is," she answered and looked around the garage for his teammate. "Lando! This is Oscar Pastry, right?"

"Definitely Oscar Pastry!" Lando shouted back.

"That's settles it then, Oscar Pastry."

Oscar may have been glaring, but he skill kissed her. "Wish me luck today," he said, placing his hands on her hips while Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Good luck, Pastry," she whispered and placed her head against his chest.

Oscar kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arms more securely around her.

Pastry, because that was what Y/N thought his name was when they'd first met. She'd soon learnt it was Piastri, but by then it was too late and the name had stuck. Even before they were dating, she still called him Oscar Pastry.

It was his name in her phone when they were innocently flirting over text. When the flirting was no longer innocent, his name was still Oscar Pastry.

When Oscar had asked Y/N to be his, she'd answered with "Of course, Oscar Pastry."

Now, a year on from that everything was different. Oscar was no longer in F2 and a lot more of his life was in the limelight. But he was still Y/Ns Oscar Pastry.

***

2023 was Oscars rookie season. But he was amazing. Y/N always came away from each race filled with pride. Oscar could have DNFed or finished each race last and she still would have been filled with pride.

"Pastry!" Y/N shouted as he got out of the car. He wasted no time in taking her into his arms and spinning her around. His helmet was still on his head, so Y/N had no choice but to kiss it, to kiss where his mouth should have been.

He let her go, pulled off his helmet and gave her a real kiss. One that had the lads in the McLaren garage clapping their hands and turning away to give them a little bit of privacy.

After that Oscar was off to do what he needed to do after the race. Y/N waited for him in his driver's room. She played on her phone, scrolling through social media to see pictures of the race already up on her Instagram.

The Oscar fans were her favourite. There were some familiar faces on her feed, fans that had been there since his F2 days and had moved up into F1 with them.

There were several pictures of Oscars McLaren driving around the track. There were quick videos of him overtaking other drivers and pictures of his jumping out of his car.

And then Y/N got to the F1 news sites. Ever since Oscars F1 debut, the news sites run by the male F1 fans had been overly critical of her specifically. So, Y/N tended to avoid them. She stuck to the accounts that loved her and Oscar together, the accounts that didn't tear her down just because she was with Oscar.

The wag accounts had posted updates from the race, the most recent of which being the picture of her kissing Oscars helmet. And then it was the pictures of her actually kissing Oscar. Him all sweaty and disheveled from the race, her radiating pure joy.

***

Y/N couldn't go to every race. As much as she tried, she couldn't make it to every single one. She had work and school to attend.

So, when she couldn't make it to a race, Oscar was very understanding. They called and texted as much as they possibly could. Even if she had to watch the race through her tv screen, she still watched the race.

Studying and working was a tiring business. Sunday evening, after the race, Y/N was exhausted. With preparing to write her thesis, she only managed to half watch the race. It was mainly her listening out for Oscars name and number as she typed away at her laptop.

Oscar was due home that night. To the some they shared.

Y/N tried her very best to stay awake as she waited for him, she really did. Maybe her first mistake was climbing into bed. Maybe her first mistake was getting under the blankets and letting the warmth cocoon her.

The same thing probably would have happened if she had stayed sitting on the couch. At least in her bed she was comfortable and unlikely to hurt her back like she would on the couch.

When Oscar got in, the lights and the television were still on. It was kind of worrying, actually, seeing all the lights on and no sign of his girlfriend. "Y/N?" He called, looking around into their kitchen. "Y/N?"

Oscar went around, checking every single room. And then he got to their bedroom.

Slowly, Oscar pushed open the door. It didn't stop the door from squeaking as he opened it. He put his head around the door and looked in.

There she was, sleeping peacefully in their bed. In way of pyjamas she had on an orange McLaren hoodie.

Oscar tried his best to be quiet. He tried to move around the room silently, tried to be light-footed, but he wasn't doing a very good job. Every time the floorboards creaked under his feet, he turned back to his girlfriend, to make sure she was still asleep.

As Oscar got dressed, Y/N stirred. She rolled towards him, her eyes fluttering open. "Pastry?" She called, her voice croaking.

Suddenly she was sat up, rolling out of bed and stumbling towards him. "Oh my god, Pastry. You're back," she said and wrapped her arms around him.

Oscar had to hold her steady as they hugged. "I missed you too, baby," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. He walked her back over to the bed and sat her down.

"Love you, Oscar Pastry," she whispered and promptly went back to sleep, wrapped in his embrace.

***

"This is paradise," said Y/N as she stretched out on her sun lounger. The sun was shining, palm trees providing the only shade for miles.

The pool in front of her was crystal clear. In said pool was her boyfriend, swimming from one side to the other with an inflatable dolphin. Y/N watched him through her sunglasses, a McLaren hat on her head.

Summer break was something Y/N took very seriously. Her studies were finally done and Oscar was finally on summer break from the season.

Of course, Oscar had to take his girl on holiday. They flew to the Caribbean, to a private villa they'd rented for the next week and a half. From there it was sun, sand, blue skies and crystal clear water.

Getting out of the pool, Oscar threw himself down onto the sunbed beside Y/N. "Happy?" He asked, reaching out and placing his hand on her knee.

His fingers were cold, but it was welcome under the Caribbean sun. Y/N placed her hand on top of his and nodded her head. "This is amazing, Oscar Pastry," she said, turning towards him.

Oscar had this way of smiling. It made Y/N's heart beat fast and the blood rush to her cheeks. "I love you," she said, reaching up to push her fingers through his hair. "My Oscar Pastry."

"Your Oscar Pastry."

The trip was commemorated with a post on Y/N's Instagram.

y/nusername:

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiatri and 238,557 others

ynusername Oscar 🥐

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 4

[prompt: roleplay] male reader x kang hyewon 8k words

“I need you,” Hyewon says in the uneasy dark of a hotel room, with two urgent fistfuls of your shirt, “need you to do to me all the things my husband never will.” “Yeah, I know,” you tell her, “you said that,” and her eyebrows move in all the wrong directions, “I’m just wondering if, you know, maybe we should give him a little more credit.”

-

Here’s the truth:

Hyewon doesn’t believe in leaving evidence behind and you don't find it particularly productive to doubt her; you’ve been talking in code for years. Parts and pieces of yourselves reduced down and bottled into set phrases that, to anyone else, would be totally incomprehensible.

"i've been thinking," she texts you, which you've come to understand means she's already made up her mind, "maybe we should do that thing we were talking about. tonight."

(You're not always so fast on the uptake.)

You send two back two texts, both of which ask "which thing?" because the hallway from the breakroom to your desk has poor reception and it never lets you send just one.

Then, right after you cross the threshold between signal-drowning-concrete and the glitzy glass-walled arboretum they've built to make you feel like you're not a total cog in their corporate machine, your phone pings the receipt of Hyewon's reply: a picture - her laptop, propped up on your coffee table with its screen angled for perusal, of a booking site that's filtered to show results for their 'king bed & view' room at a midrange hotel a forty-five-minute ride from your apartment.

"not really doing much narrowing down here hyewon."

She replies to you - her text bubble appearing over another couple still images, of herself in the vanity mirror as she curls her hair around her finger and holds this little black slip of a dress over her shoulder, black lacy lingerie in tow, the whole nine - with:

"i'm feeling kinda adventurous."

-

Five o’clock rolls around but you never really do figure it out. You spend the last three hours at work deciding which kink of hers (oh, does she have a few) this is all in service to.

There's nothing overtly sexual about her pics in the first place - not more than usual anyway, more showing off her curves and cut jaw than showcasing anything for her 'adventurous' intent. So that can't be the tell - you'd seen her in a corset once (you can't unsee it) and the angle of her hips to the mirror makes you think that if she was planning on pulling on a  pair of crotchless panties then she probably would've found her thigh high stockings, too.

You try and think of what the two of you had even talked about when discussing these little scenes - how many times you'd ended up 'in the mood' during or after such a meeting of the minds, how it'd snowballed from there, a whole list of filthy what-ifs that she'd probably put more thought into than you ever have - but you draw a total blank. It could be any of a number of things.

Until,

"i left you instructions on the kitchen island," reads a text on your phone which you definitely don’t check while you’re driving -

And then it hits you.

"ah."

"yeah, 'ah'," she replies.

-

A quarter past seven at the hotel bar is way too early for any real promiscuous activity, but then again, you're here playing at pretend and half the fun of games like this is in the setup.

Meet me at the bar, your instructions read, introduce yourself, and play it by ear.

There's some couples at the other end, some friends downing shots by the round, people musing over their aperitifs, and a woman sipping alone at the bar - Hyewon, appearing to you from the back first:

The pointed edges of her shoulders narrow out over this tiny cocktail dress that somehow covers less of her than if it weren't there at all, skin tight, accentuating even her softest curves. She has her hair fixed a particular way - teased enough to flip at the ends but still a single sweep down her shoulders, pulled together softly by a ribbon in the back, tied like a fantasy, allowing a wispy strand to fall to her face - glossy and dark and glowing to this rich, deep mahogany where it's cast in the lamplight.

The line of her throat, of her chest. Where her hips meet her waist in a rounding flare. The effort and beauty she's gone to, for you - that she puts in every day just because she knows it gets your attention, can do more than turn a head or two; Hyewon's appearance is almost indifferent of you, only coincidental, but she puts on a damn good act.

(You look a lot more worn in comparison: jacket thrown over dress shirt and khakis, tie loose at the neck. Standard office attire with just a step-outside-regulation. Disheveled.)

A drink, you suppose - approaching the bar to try and catch the bartender's attention to order a single malt.

But if Hyewon's been waiting long, she doesn't complain when you pull into the stool beside her and sit for a long moment.

"Do you mind if I join you?" you say over a pair of politely folded hands - and that's generally where her 'instructions' end.

The look she fixes you with is just this unashamed smoldering, her body language this contradictory kind of lazy - cool, like her night was going exactly the way she planned but she still had places to be.

"It depends," she replies, one slender finger curled around the stem of her martini glass - which historically, is a drink she hates. "Who's asking?"

"Just me," you offer, letting the gesture and your tone leave it up to her. And then slowly, perhaps awkwardly: "ostensibly a complete and utter stranger who knows a gorgeous woman when he sees one - and who could never pass up a chance to see how the rest of her is."

"Smooth."

"I guess it is, considering you didn't immediately run for the exit."

Hyewon nearly snorts.

"Hard not to." She tilts her head back at you, assessing. Her cheeks are rosy pink. "A handsome thing like you doesn't usually buy themself a girl's time with flattery -"

"Buy your time or your drinks?" you tease, and you can tell she wants to roll her eyes - but she keeps them carefully lowered. Eyelashes dipping down like blackened fans.

Hyewon shifts slightly, resting her chin onto the heel of her wrist like she's leaning against an imaginary windowpane and tipping her face a little sideways. It makes you smile. "One gets the other, if you catch my meaning."

Maybe it takes you a little too long to lift your gaze off her lips to find her eyes, or off the sweeping curve of the hemline sitting high across her long legs, but she watches you for just a breath. It's a more telling moment that she pretends she doesn't know you.

"You can look at me if you like," and then without further preamble, she introduces herself with a slight tilt of the head and an expectant expression: "call me Hyewon."

You figure that if you've gotta say one word to get the ball rolling you want to say her name, and as a little revenge for forcing you to think on this scene and think on what to say, what your character would say, how exactly she wanted you to go about 'meeting' her in a hotel bar, how her fucking scenario's been building up in her head for god-knows-how-long (even though, in the scheme of the two of you and your relationship, it’s nowhere close to being the most demanding sex you've had), you reply simply with:

"Pretty."

It's satisfying, how she hesitates - pausing a little longer on your face to gauge exactly what you meant. Studying. But the next beat of your heart - or hers - is effortless, easy.

"I know. That's what my husband calls me."

"Husband?" You keep yourself from raising an eyebrow. "And I don't suppose I'm also... married?"

"Different day, different you."

"Meaning I have a wife or a mistress of my own," and you flick your wrist at the barkeep for a top-up of what's in front of Hyewon. "You're telling me I'm the kind of man who'd only settle for two."

It doesn't sound quite right, though Hyewon picks up on it. Doesn't let on. "Aren't men like you always? Charming to a fault, but always voracious - insatiable, especially with women like me."

"Women like you."

"Married women. Unavailable," she simpers, and in a practiced little motion, draws her hand out to where you can see it properly, this sparkle on her fourth finger that catches the lowlight of the bar. The diamond looks real - not that you'd actually know - and your stomach flexes up mid-somersault thinking about the financial impropriety for what amounts to a gag. A practical joke. Hyewon the comedian.

Still, you go with it and take her hand in yours, admiring. "What a pity." The glint off its faceted surface - Hyewon's watchful as she allows it.

"Isn't it," she agrees.

The more unnerving thing - besides how composed Hyewon can make herself be - is how the narrative quickly becomes a whole hell of a lot clearer with the context of marriage in play. She's mentioned it before: the infidelity thing, the way it leads to the raunchiest, filthiest bits she'll dare to explore. In some ways, her desire for the untouchable makes a lot more sense -

And maybe that's what had been nagging at your mind since she brought up the idea of playing the part: you always end up kissing in that stupid 'caught up' sort of way. With an intensity that's hard to beat. Even though you wouldn't ever cheat on her. Not in a million years. You'd watch her leave before doing anything like that.

But it's thrilling, almost, and even more thrilling that this isn't entirely improvisation: how well the two of you might actually play this off, as two total strangers to this illusory little roleplay that you'd normally say was your very last interest.

"But you know there's something I've come to appreciate about married men," Hyewon continues, her voice in this conspiratorial sort of hushed.

You blink, drawing her out.

"They know how to tie a knot."

There's the flirty wink, an upward flick of the chin that draws your eye to the span of her chest. To her body in that skin-hugging dress and your fingers entangled in hers - the gentle bump and shift of the bodies behind her, moving between the tables - Hyewon a queen of circumstance, playing to the moment as it bends; as her lips part in a pleased smile, red and smooth, almost innocent, and you can't help but imagine tasting her on your tongue, the force that'd take for her to yield when you finally got your hands in her hair.

(What a character, honestly.)

"Tell me something," you say, "why would a married woman, this pretty little thing like you, be all alone in a place like this - without her charming husband."

Hyewon's smile curls at the edges like smoke. "I never said he was charming."

You raise an eyebrow. "Good-looking, then."

"Never said as much either."

“Why are you with someone you find neither attractive nor charming?”

Hyewon makes a face, slightly pitied. “If that Isn’t what I’m asking myself everyday.”

"Hm." You narrow your eyes into something more quizzical than suggestive. It works on her anyway. "That doesn't feel too much like it's in character, Hyewon."

She shrugs, but it's that coy kind of shrug. She thinks you'll let her off easy - you usually do. All considered, she's the type who thrives off the chase and, as of today, so do you.

"But he is cute." Her expression is just this side of sweet, as she takes a dainty sip of her drink. Like the taste doesn’t bother her, like she isn't pretending she doesn't hate it with every fiber of her being. Like this is easy. "And maybe -" she quirks an eyebrow at you, withholding a smirk. "-you're right. Maybe, I was looking for someone cuter to fill the bill. And luck would have it, here he is."

So - apparently - her character doesn’t mind a little light infidelity.

Hyewon takes in the vague sense that the message wasn’t as clear as she might have liked, her forehead scrunching as she tries to convey - in a way that would communicate even to an airhead - some realization to play your part.

"Maybe it's the wrong question,” you start over, taking it from somewhere near the top, “what are you doing here, with me?"

That's when Hyewon graces you with one of the soft, slow kind of smiles: the kind that manages both an air of 'you dimwit' and 'good question'. Her fingertips barely graze yours but it's noticeably electric. Just enough to feel your pulse fluttering.

(You don't care that none of it’s real - Hyewon looks to you through thick eyelashes like a goddess of temptation and sin - and it makes something wicked coil up warm at the pit of your gut. A curious thrill and a recklessness that you have to admit feels a little nice - being the man trying to talk this woman into bed. The challenge and the buildup, the want to work for it. It's new. It's fresh. Lo-and-behold, it's kinda hot.)

When you catch her stare, she fidgets. So slightly, so briefly, your chest is on fire and you're barely into the pages of her plans, of this night ahead.

"Wish fulfillment, let's say," and that is no less true. "See it’s my husband."

"Mhmm."

"He respects me too much to do the things I'm going to ask you to do."

"Like?" you continue to prod.

Hyewon lets out the tiniest shiver of a sigh, like a trickle of cold water down the length of her spine. "Take a good guess."

You finish the rest of Hyewon's martini, slow. Savoring the warmth and bitterness sliding down the back of your throat. The night's young, sure - and if you're supposed to be spending it all wrapped around Hyewon's finger. This means you can take your time.

"Show me your room?" you propose, gesturing to the empty glass.

"I thought you'd never ask."

At your offering, she stands up and throws on her coat - long, double-breasted, chic - but only really just off her shoulders to have the hem hit her legs mid-thigh. One of her many personal quirks. Hyewon knows how to move like there aren't two eyes staring at her wherever she goes: not the awkward side-to-side of a girl who wasn't made to wear heels - a loping gait - nor the assured click, click of the taller kind that totter like it's all they've got going for them.

Something totally different: a little careless and a little haughty and an assurance of the highest confidence.

She winds an arm round yours like they do in movies, this parody of a leading lady - Hyewon not a seductress as much as she is someone who'll look the part just to convince you otherwise. There is a pretty big discrepancy, you find, between her bravado and her smile, her figure and her artistry - you couldn't act if you wanted to; meanwhile, she does whatever she damn well pleases. And somehow that doesn't even begin to cover the things that turn her on.

The two of you make for the stairs, winding up floor after floor until it's perfectly quiet, perfectly out of sight - hidden away from prying eyes and ears.

The silence of an empty hotel stairwell is thick - Hyewon's hand comes off the railing, as she takes to the wall and turns to face you. It's a gentle tug at the tie loose around your neck, barely any give before you're already there, holding her by the hips.

"Might've gotten us lost there," you whisper, as her finger plays at your chest and finds its way round the collar of your shirt. Your top button is already undone by the time you notice she's not fond of it. "The elevators would've gotten us where we're headed faster."

"Don't worry." She hums, leaning in close - like a magnet, like gravity. "You're getting the scenic route."

"Anything to stall the inevitable," you tease, but it isn't a thread she seems interested in developing.

"Something like that."

Hyewon shifts her weight back onto her right foot, her skirt riding up just barely. The dip between her inner thighs and the smooth curve of her leg is open and bare to your sight, her dark stockings like an unspoken challenge: the panties, lacy, loose, no crotch.

And it gets... indecent, the way your lips connect, how you realize half-way into that kiss, she's still smiling. It isn't any one way that does it; maybe it's the clever use of her tongue, or that particular position you've coaxed her up against the stairwell wall that makes it seem like Hyewon can't be any more in danger - it's too much to handle and your mouth goes slack on the reflex of an apology; her hand has a hold on you by the jaw and it won't budge.

"My husband," she murmurs into you, the trace of the words ghosting into the breath between the both of you. "Never lets me."

"What," you rasp, barely recognizing your own voice, your hand heavy on her side - the very real fear that you might tip over a banister because Hyewon's got her heel half-way into the back of your calf and any less bracing would bring you down. Your thoughts are a fog, with her cheek in one hand and your knee already up between her thighs.

"His wife," she almost swallows down, kisses turning chaste because maybe it's just easier to gently peck out her intentions, how she looks to you with dark eyes, heavy-lidded and wanting, a thumb trailing down the plane of your cheek. It'd feel like pity if you weren't thinking exactly the same.

You try to finish it for her:

"She likes it rough."

"No." Her nose traces yours before she connects you again - gentle and slow, and a shudder rolls all down the expanse of her shoulders; you think you have it about right. Until she makes the slightest adjustment and her grip in your hair turns agonizing, perfect and burning on the edge of too tight - too much. You are straining against the wall of a hotel hallway and she's saying, "not rough."

She kisses you. Hard. Until you gasp for the stolen air in her lungs.

"Filthy," she manages against the heat and sting at the side of her cheek.

(Damn.)

Your voice has gone and lodged itself firmly somewhere between her lungs - but there's something that says she knows. That you've got it in you, the brimming potential that might just say everything you ever wanted but couldn't figure the right way to put it.

It's the tone of her voice or the spark in her eyes, but one moment into the next - you're caught in this pull - like gravity's increasing tenfold at her will; her heartbeat's so strong you swear you feel it against your ribs as she's demanding:

"Messy. Dirty. A little uninhibited," and the obvious thrill of that must flare up like lightning under her skin - the way it makes her moan, soft and breathless: "fuck me like my husband doesn't."

She’s not even waiting for the comfort of the room yet, which in hindsight is probably checking more of Hyewon's many boxes - it's the sex in public thing, the fear of discovery thing, the desire to have you ravish her out where anyone can come upon you sort of thing - the thought of which has your jaw go a little slack too. Her leg up is coiled up around your hip, your fingers tangled in her hair and sliding up the length of her thigh, until you're fucking kneading up her ass and drawing out that desperate whine in her.

"Fuck," she exhales into your shoulder - a hand on the metal bannister to brace against those little circles you start to rub inside her, pushing - slowly - one, two, three knuckles deep, testing - before drawing back, and plunging forward again. This ache, slow and purposeful, pressing just enough into her until there's a wet sort of friction that has your hand slick all down your wrist.

It never takes long, with your fingers on her clit, fingers inside her, a palm covering the moans out of her mouth -

She cums just like that.

Whining and broken and bent under you, and with an elbow hard against her ribcage to make the breaths come shallow.

"Stay quiet for me, sweetheart," you find yourself murmuring, as your teeth graze the shell of her ear - the short burst of hair and silky strands across the back of her neck; you're undoing the neat ribbon tied round the length of her hair and letting her waves settle on her shoulder in time for you to swallow down the sound of her sighs, the tension in her lips, and the frantic jolt when your fingers push through the wet, heat of her pussy again, merciless and quick. You have to be careful; she nearly bites your fucking tongue out.

"Can't." Her jaw's tight on it, the slight staccato to her breathing, murmuring and slightly dazed: "if we get caught, someone will see. Someone will notice."

Her next exhale is more shaky. "Anyone could see us like this," with just her toes curling and her stomach tensing on every second beat. Your grip leaves a bruise. "Please-"

"We're not supposed to be doing this at all, are we? If you've got a husband waiting somewhere?"

You hear yourself, and it sounds sorta degenerate, though in all the right ways, you figure, like something straight out of one of Hyewon's romance novels, the dirty, smutty ones that she swears up and down she simply reads for the plot, but the dazed, hazy kind of mood they get her worked up into suggest otherwise.

You trace the rough pad of your thumb over her pussy, this delicate, ghost of a touch. One you'd have to strain to even tell if it was there or not until she whines - eyes screwed shut like she doesn't mean to, just does. The sound of it bouncing around the stairwell.

And then, all this wet: her skirt's ridden all the way up to her stomach, damp and near-transparent with slick, and you can just imagine the puffy pink between her legs - between her stockings in the afterglow of an orgasm, spent and sensitive and sore and wanting for more. Your eyes linger a little too long -

"I shouldn't let you," she manages, half a moan on it - one of her heels comes up the stair you're standing on and the way Hyewon clings onto you for balance says enough, but still, she demands, with all the strength her throat allows: "make it fast. You're lucky I let you see me like this at all -"

And she cuts off abruptly, looking at you.

(She'll play coy for a while longer. Which, Hyewon being Hyewon, will look like as much an effort as her sprawl out on the bed for you is.)

"The room," you say to her, harshly, "where is it."

"Four more floors."

-

Room 1014 as it turns out is like every other room you've ever been in, each one perhaps a little more identical than the last - except this one has Hyewon sitting in your lap while you get comfortable on the bed, and there's also the way she looks in the mirror above the headboard, the desperation in her stare, right back into the reflection.

"What all," she says, "do you want to do to me?"

This time - no explicit instructions - just an implication. You have to figure it out.

See, the image of her is like every fantasy rolled into one, wearing this thin black bra that has her breasts just about spilling over. They're amazing - the color and shape of her skin. Soft. Cradled between the cups like a godsend, and maybe that's why it drives her a little crazy how good you look biting down the ridge of her breast and flicking your eyes back up to catch her expression.

It has you feeling, if nothing else, a little ‘adventurous,’ too.

Her belly tenses on a heavy sigh and it's one hell of a thing to have Hyewon staring you down, like you're an animal or an idiot, with her eyes flashing and a thinly veiled anger in the purse of her lips. There's a thousand things she'd like to do to you - for you to do to her - but it's about the predicament: the silk necktie she'd pulled off you as you both stumbled through the door has ended up around her wrists, pinning her arms behind her back in a way that suggests a loss of control. Just the mere suggestion of a little playacting, but she's almost keening.

You feel the touch of her right calf keep rising - curving down your waist, hooked behind the small of your back - her thighs smooth, and a hot line along your sides.

"I should fuck that pretty mouth of yours," you say against the shell of her ear, because you know better than anyone, the very concept gets her wet. Uncomfortably so.

And she leans her head against your temple like she'd love it. You could be imagining the little whimper as she clenches up round nothing - until a growl escapes the back of her throat and she's saying -

"Is that how you're going to cum? With me on my knees and nothing else? Cover my pretty face? How you’ll completely ruin me?. You’re more creative than that."

“I don’t know that I am.”

Her hips move to find some friction where there isn't any until you give her some, pulling your cock out through your pants and feeling it brush, once, twice against the seam of her. Hot, and hard. Ready. And if she only tried a little, the angle was made perfectly to slot your head in, but neither of you move. She doesn't yield.

"Let me fuck myself on you," she suggests, strained, almost pleading. "Then perhaps I will."

You could take her like she is. Any which way. But this is about getting a particular reaction - one that'll leave her spent and trembling - and nothing like that will happen without a little bit of preparation and prelude. You want to watch her writhe for hours. Until she forgets she's playing a character at all, until she's panting your name and whimpering for release, her cheeks burning.

But at least it gets her writhing on you, the heat and press of her body as she leans in close, your eyes locking:

"Get your cock inside me-" the urgency in her voice. "-fuck me right now, this second-"

"Say it again."

"Fill me with your perfect cock." The words land right on your lips, frayed at the edges as the tether to her control slips another notch. "Push my thighs apart until you break me," Hyewon tells you - and then with her legs twisted up in the comforter, the creaking mattress and the sweat on the sheets: she rolls her hips like they're pleading for it.

"Pushy."

"Gentle's got no appeal for us."

"Apparently not," you reply - but then it's suddenly a lot easier, to slide one hand in Hyewon's hair, and grip at the knotted silk wrapped tight 'round her wrists to hold her. There's no hiding the subtle arching of her spine, how the pressure off her arms pulls her chest in or makes it all the more comfortable, she doesn't let on, she'll probably keep pretending she doesn't like this, that she hasn't always wanted -

You run your tongue over her collarbone and thrust up inside her, once - a warning that you're not giving in to her quite yet.

The smile that runs her lips is brittle. Like her patience isn't what it used to be - she makes a quiet little noise, pained. A flash of discomfort. But there's a moan and a curse out of her:

"Like that. Harder."

"What does harder mean?" you ask, with a deliberate repetition in motion, thrusting upward, forcing her hips to shift a few degrees further back - her knees clenching around the sheets as you're met with no give - Hyewon's resistance through a dark smile, and her grip slackened in her hands, despite you keeping a fist wound tight in the hair on the back of her head, tightening the other around her restraint.

Her throat flinches: this shudder.

She takes a couple heaving, open-mouthed breaths, before she has it in her to glare at you again.

"Harder-" The way her mouth shapes around the word gets the better of you - cute little cupid's bow in pink, full and swollen and pursed up as if in pain. Or desire. Or both, the way her head is tipped back, hair half undone - an idea is already coiling at the back of your mind. "-until I can't stand."

"Or talk?"

And when your hand loosens on her wrists, her posture slumps like it's relief, that you're finally going to move along in a direction she's getting some satisfaction from -

Hyewon shakes her head in a moment that's almost blissed.

"You," her voice breaks on the tail end, "fucking wish you could shut me up that easily -"

In a motion almost gentle, you twist the length of hair down around her, from her scalp to her jaw, and wrap it around a hand. "Let's see if you'll change your mind, shall we."

There's a sharp draw of air in past her lips, just one sound, not a word. No proper rebuttal. She bites down, teeth clicking.

So you pull.

And this isn't some revelation, that Hyewon's cunt is heaven. Slick and tight, the fit around your cock and the gasp escaping the base of her throat - that isn't new. You've been here countless times, fucked her past her breaking point, beyond what should reasonably satisfy her or satisfy you, but that still doesn't take away from this incredible, heady rush that pulses through your entire body. It never stops getting better, not inch-after-fucking-inch the way you're bottoming out inside Hyewon's body and feel how hard the rest of her muscles tense up in the contact, how her pussy tightens and quivers, and grips around the entirety of your cock, the briefest taste of pleasure and release before it's pulled back just out of her reach - overstimulated, until Hyewon cries out.

You expect, predict the fight, the whimpers that spill out of her mouth with every slap of your skin and the breathless way she begs, pleads, like she'd rather her pride take it from her than have your fingers tug her hair up, right out of her scalp, with your arm locked around her lower waist. With your cock pumping faster, faster and a pressure, hot and inescapable, right there - the friction building - the slippery-wet heat sliding along your shaft with every stroke until you bottom out and her next exhale is a sob.

A goddamn fucking sob and the warm gush of liquid down her thighs - all on you. You fingers are pressed into her ass, pulling onto you, steading her bounce - and Hyewon finds her breathing uneven, as you smear wet across the curve of her backside, rubbing circles into her lower back as you catch up on the rhythm she'd lost.

"This tight little cunt, huh," you tease, and she nods so desperately it seems like she might snap. Like she might cry again and this time for real, a drop of her eye color past the blush, streaking down her cheek. You have the wherewithal to remember your character, your blocking, your lines: "this is what your husband won't do? Won't fuck you on every piece of furniture until you're a ruined fucked-out mess? Doesn't have the decency to work over his little slutty-wife until she's passed out, dripping with cum?"

Hyewon's fingers curl up into two balls of white knuckles and she chokes on her reply. "He won't."

"Tell him. He has a hot and dirty little piece of ass right under his own roof-"

"You think," and the string of words trails off when you manage to grind in, at this angle that has her reeling, trembling at every shift and jerk in momentum. Your knuckles drag against her soft and giving curves, almost gripping at her in the attempt to hold her down on you. "-my husband isn't enough."

"Well you wanted me to fuck the domestic housewife out of you," you murmur, taking two greedy handfuls of the ass bouncing in your lap, rubbing your palms along her hips, up and around the shape of her abdomen and her ribcage like you'd map it, memorize it. She wants this, you know this: your palms come around and over and brush your thumbs against her rising gooseflesh - she's putty in your hands. "No strings attached, remember, a one night kind of thing-"

"My husband loves me."

"Then it seems-"

"He makes me cum with his hands alone."

Your jaw works tight - Hyewon's cunt feels as good wrapped around you as she says your cock feels making a mess of it.

"Tells me he'd die happy hearing me moan his name."

"Oh, because no matter where he goes," you say, fingers wrapping under and around the back of her neck, forcing her to look you in the eye, "no matter what, your sweet cunt's the only one his mouth is ever watering for, isn't that right-"

A blink, lashes thick and feathering down and over the pools of her pupils as you have a hold of her tight. 

You're having a hard time with this, and you want to give it to her, the toe-curling-crescendo that would see her cumming at your will, or worse, losing the plot completely and your entire setup falling away from the charade of characters you'd both conjured. But she looks at you like she's never loved anyone like she loves you, the naked, barefaced devotion, the tenderness - a quick breath, a second - and the game is suddenly something far more personal, a truth. It isn't exactly fair: how your heart stutters. How much her heartbeat makes your pulse flutter, the electrifying rush you get when you fuck roughly up into her tight, wet cunt and make her bite down on nothing in the throes another orgasm.

You barely have a second to think of something coherent, let alone an out before she kisses you. If that isn’t totally disarming. So you move her into the next, flipping her onto her stomach, and she does nothing to fight back: Hyewon just lies there - the side of her face plastered to the comforter - exhausted, and gives a willing, malleable moan at the contact where your hand digs into the shape of her upper thighs, spreading them out as her elbows struggle behind her back.

"Here, baby," you say, finally unwinding the silk knot between her wrists, "I'll have you like the little desperate fucktoy you really are."

There's the bite to her bottom lip, the whole five seconds it takes for her hands to spread out and twist her fingers tight in the bedspread, before she whines - full-throated - and rocks back onto her toes to arch her back.

(See, the thing: Hyewon likes being fucked within an inch of her life. On all fours and pleading for more.)

With your free hand, you reach around her to run over her inner thighs.

Hyewon brings her grip to the bottom of the bed frame, for purchase, or leverage, you don't know, and in one simple motion, you slip your cock back deep inside her pussy.

You curse under your breath.

Hyewon fucking collapses.

It's a dangerous combination, having her begging and you nearly fully clothed while she's wearing barely more than this thin strip of black silk around her waist and a stocking on one leg, but you can't help it - she looks good this way.

"Fuck," she spits out, voice lost when your hips find hers in this wet, sloppy crash of skin that gets louder, faster and more punishing on each beat. "Like that, oh my God-"

Her whimpering only gets worse - when you start only pulling out halfway, until she's gasping like she can't breathe. You think there isn't a more wonderful, more obscene, more gorgeous thing than Hyewon spread out in front of you - the curve of her spine defining each and every one of the lines, dips, and rises of her body - and you would thank God or some higher deity right about now.

It’s fuck and please and every other little pliant utterance of “fuck my brains out, use me, make me beg, I'm so turned on right now I'll let you fuck me anyway you want - harder, faster, I can do whatever, just show me how, make me, push and fuck me hard until I'm raw and aching - god - like this, let me cum, please, let me - keep fucking going, oh my god, please, like this, fuck, just like this-"

You do thank God, actually - there's mirrors everywhere in this room, and you can catch the circular swing of her tits every time you force a curse and a sigh out of her: the bared teeth and the effort to push herself back on her arms, bracing for every thrust, fighting and fumbling to keep her balance and to make sure you have to pound her into the mattress until her cries reach a pitch.

Then, the thing you'd learned she'd never ask for but oh-so-dearly-wanted - you open your palm and bring it down hard on her backside. The impact of your flesh to hers, a crack, a moan and her whole body flexes - and it's then you do it again: matching the hit to the visible red outline of your handprint. The third time, she hisses, biting into the bed sheets so as not to cry out.

"Right? This is what you want? To be fucked and used?"

She doesn't reply with words, because she may in fact be biting her teeth into the cotton threadcount at the end of the bed, but she lifts her ass higher, angles her hips like she's waiting for more. Her brow is creased in a smile, even though a frustrated groan escapes her lips - so you give her that again, and again, until the back of her thighs are turning red and she's clawing one hand back along the length of your legs - pushing and pulling.

"You want me to fuck you senseless, sweetheart?"

And then, so needy and desperate she's just saying the first word that come to mind:

"More-"

"-when I've been railing into you so hard and your husband probably knows already, has to have seen, maybe he's listening at the door- oh," and your whole train of thought comes to a sudden halt upon seeing Hyewon's hand land on the perfect round of her ass, fingers pulling her soft, reddening skin taut, up and away from where your cock is disappearing between her cheeks - to allow more of your shaft into her hot, wet cunt - allow you to fuck her and fuck her up - allow the length of your shaft to slide deeper and hit all the spots that will send her reeling into this orgasm and the next.

Your gaze is stuck however, not to her curves rippling in excess, the damage of your thrusts pounding her body to ruin, or the look of flawless pleasure twisting up the pretty features of Hyewon's reflection, but instead it's the fucking flash and catch of the diamond that adorns her fourth finger. Even when you have her completely helpless, bent on your mercy, she's still wearing that promise, that intention to have and to hold, and you think, for at least a second, this whole roleplay thing isn't the worst idea: being a surrogate to fulfill someone's wildest fantasies. It might even be enough to make you hard all over again - the thrill and the debasement of your girl, lines quickly blurring between the Hyewon you'll take home and put back together and the Hyewon you're fucking pouding into a mattress - the here and now.

"Fuck, Hyewon," you find yourself swearing - steadying the hips rolling back in your palms, bending down until the flat of your chest meets her back, until your nose is in her hair, the long strands sticking to her lips and the back of her ears. Until you feel her shaking as you suckle against her skin, at her neck, hot kisses between the shoulder blades, finding a grip in her hands. Her grip in yours - as she's muffling these exquisite, needy sounds; she is perfect. Hyewon is perfect.

The first time you cum, it's this hot splatter of white: smeared across her ass and the crease of her lower back. It feels almost dirty to think that's just how you feel about it; your heart is stuttering in its erratic pace, but your eyes are drawn and enraptured, the sight of it all.

Then second, maybe your favorite: when she slips her hand to your aching shaft and simply takes you back inside her. This soft, wet, inviting heat that pulls you back to her.

"God- please," her head tips back, you feel the arch of her back through her ribs and stomach, the way her breath catches as you slide your cock through her creamed-out-cunt so much harder and smoother. "It feels so fucking good, baby," and there are tears now, welling in the corner of her eyes, "don't stop, God don't ever stop-"

She can barely finish her sentence before she's cut off, a moan ripped from the bottom of her lungs and a gasp straight from the pain-pleasure that has your balls slapping against her pussy every other stroke. And suddenly she's sitting, or rather, squirming into your arms, her face buried in your shoulders as she starts riding you, and not-quite crying and saying again - again, the whole filthy lot of things: about her wanting you to fill her, to plug her up with your cock. Every thrust she whines in your ears, clutching onto the fabric of your shirt and making a mess of herself in you.

It's this wild and reckless thing that makes its way around the room, on every surface and bit of furniture. You fuck her over the counter, let her ride you on the sofa, the chair, the two of you managing to find some sort of assistance in the wall even, the door frame, her legs up your sides and the slippery-sticky-heat of your mouths connecting and everything that isn't exactly meant to support that kind of strain buckling and nearly giving way - once when the wooden joints in the door-frame shift, once when she begs for release in that frantic voice that doesn't sound a thing like her. And the way she comes apart under you after, on top of you - is even sweeter; you imagine there's this endless possibility for love, for pleasure, a whole world in bundled in the notion that you could do it for her again, that it was always a question of Hyewon letting you have her that way, and the rest was mere foreplay - a stretch.

Only, on the bed again, Hyewon shivers beneath you, this full-body response, and you've got her stretched as she opens up - that the slightest of movements has her already whimpering out "fuck," and "please," and "right there," and "fuck you're going to make me come like this. You're so good, just fucking," and "more, harder, please, you feel so fucking good-"

The desperation for release is so palpable in her that it's curling into your stomach as your press Hyewon's knees into the points and edges of her shoulders and fold in her half - this perfect angle of leverage. Fucking her like she's yours and no one else's - the absolute delight of her cunt, wet, hot, and desperate to milk you empty - her body quaking at the force of each thrust, and the hungry grind of your hips into hers. Her fingers digging and knotting in the sheets around you until her knuckles pale, and your own grasp on her skin threatens to bruise.

"Inside me," she gasps out, because she can feel that edge just as well as you, "I want you to fill me, just cum inside, God, you always feel so amazing, fuck, like that, cum inside me, cum in me-"

"How could I say no, especially when you ask so sweetly," you tell her, kissing into her smile, "can you take another? Baby, look at me, look into my eyes, yeah? Look right back at me."

Her eyes blink and roll back a bit, almost losing focus and her eyelashes flutter - the creases in her brow, the elegant lines of her face locking up in the overwhelming tension, then, a peak.

And a demand, meekly asking you to fill her up. Until there's nothing left. "Cum," Hyewon moans, "for the love of fuck-"

You push her past her climax until she's practically weeping, sobbing through a litany of nonsense and slurred, unfinished sentences and almost howls, struggling beneath your weight and coaxing her fingers over the surge at the base of your spine. Before a hot liquid mess bursts out of you, into the deepest reach of Hyewon's throbbing cunt - cumming inside her, while you hold her down, not allowing her to move as your hips lock and you're both left groaning in utter agony.

(This was the thing you'd told her once - cumming inside her was almost always worth the effort it took to clean it all back out. You like the possessive aspect of it, maybe the slight humiliation, and more than anything, she'll just melt: once she's gone past the immediate discomfort. If anyone could really learn to get off on feeling a little filthy, it's the two of you. And she knows that too, Hyewon's eager little pout intimates, as she blinks down to watch where the two of you connect.)

You don't say much for the next while. If there's a line where this particular escapade blends back into your normal life, where the Hyewon curled up in the sheets is your own girl and not some half-conceived entity that didn't fit the reality of the rest of the evening, or how you see Hyewon everyday, even then, it’s not clear.

She's utterly boneless - this fragile, dazed thing that runs her palms all the way around her breasts and pulls up her stockings a little further up the line of her hips, as if you weren't going to peel them back and slip them all the way off when you had the wherewithal to handle it. But the strength in her isn't entirely lost either, she looks ready to burst: this air of pride and smugness - victory, right in her grin, which isn't totally surprising. Hyewon usually gets an odd satisfaction out of your participation in whatever hedonistic or obscene thing it is she wants to try.

This was her fantasy - maybe not a deeply rooted or unattainable one, but she'd worked out some kinks of hers and has walked away a far better woman for it, knowing what a sight she is to you. Like this.

"That was... fun," Hyewon eventually says, collecting articles of clothing strewn about the room.

Her shoes are one of two sets in the shoe-rack, but she'll have to look around and under the bed to find her dress. It would probably be some strange level of easy to play dumb and wait until she comes to the conclusion on her own that she should bend down and check down there, but she looks a little too worn out to really be interested in her clothes, more like, ready for the next part.

"We should do it again," her gaze lands, intent, and serious, back to you.

"Which part?" you have to ask, because you're probably still, a little slow on the uptake.

A small laugh, the sly smirk to herself; she knows she has you wrapped so perfectly around her finger, ready to bend to whatever game she can come up with: "whichever part you like."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I tell a couple I'm a mistress for both of them?

this is a long one and a very weird situation but here we go. I (28F) have been seeing two people recently. I've been seeing C (30F) for a little over 5 months and M (29M) for almost 6 months. both relationships are currently in a state of non-commitment, even though I've expressed feelings in both relationships and theyve been reciprocated, but I'm naturally not a super commitment-focused person and both of the people I'm seeing have respected that a lot, so yeah.

anyways, both relationships have been great and I'm incredibly happy w them, and since neither are committed to me I've kind of just assumed that both C and M were likely seeing other people as well even if we haven't talked about it.

WELL. about a week ago C came over to my place to spend the night, which she does like once a week or every other week. she goes to take a shower and I start gathering laundry and grab her stuff to throw in with mine and take her phone out of her jeans. I glance at the screen and see a few texts from a contact called "my love <3"

I was kinda surprised by this because while not talking to me about casual relationships is not something I would care about, the contact name made me think she had a more serious relationship going on, which I don't mind but would like to be informed about.

soooo okay I did an admittedly asshole thing and read the text. and then read a few more. and it became apparent that this was a REALLY committed relationship. like, I love yous, I'll be back home soon, please remember to grab so and so from the grocery store, stuff like that.

the contact picture looked kind of familiar too so I clicked on it to see better and it ended up being a picture of M.

I kind of flipped at this bc this is kind of a ridiculous situation, and I left my apartment for some air. I came back like 30 minutes later and C was waiting for me and confused where I'd been (she didn't see/hear me leave since she was still in the shower).

I apologized to her for looking at her phone but told her that I saw the texts from her partner, and that I was feeling kind of hurt that she hadn't told me that she had a more serious relationship going on, since she knows I value transparency. I specifically did not mention that I was also dating M or knew who he was because I felt I needed to scope out the situation more.

she ended up breaking down in tears and spilled everything. told me that M is her husband, that he doesn't know she's been seeing me, that shes felt so conflicted and guilty because she loves him but has really grown to love me too, that she feels wrong and dirty for keeping everything secret. I'm upset that I've been made into a mistress without knowing, but I try to talk to her about everything, we end up staying up super late talking and crying and pouring our hearts out. I still don't mention that I'm dating M too because I feel like I need to talk to him about this before any big decisions are made on my part.

I ended up inviting M to stay at my place a few nights later, and I confront him about the fact that I know he has a wife (made up something about my friend seeing them out together) and ask why he's kept this from me. his reaction was really similar. guilt, not understanding why he's attracted to two people at once, saying he very deeply loves C and doesn't want to leave her but really loves me too, says he's confused and doesn't know what to do. I don't mention to him that I know C or that I'm dating her.

I asked him if he's heard of polyamory before, and he said yes but he doesn't know anything about it really. I ended up encouraging him to maybe talk to his wife to see if that's something she'd be interested in, but he was terrified that she'd be hurt by the suggestion.

I really do love both of them and don't want to leave them. I've been poly for a long time and am very familiar with navigating ethical non monogamy, and to me this feels a lot like two poly people struggling to come to terms with and accept a facet of their sexualities, and they're just navigating that confusion and self discovery in ways that are...not great. but, I want to give them grace for their mistakes I guess?

so this is the part where I think I might be the asshole if I go thru with it. I've talked with both C and M separately about talking to their spouse about what's been going on and about polyamory in general, and they're both fucking terrified and really don't want to. so, I was thinking of inviting them both to my place at the same time to hash it out (without telling them that the other person will be there, since they still don't know I'm dating both of them). I think once they realize they've been dating the same person things might be easier to navigate, and will force them to confront what's been going on?? but also idk if springing this on them is the best thing I could do, but I really have no idea how to navigate this differently.

to be frank, if they love each other and both love me, my ideal outcome is that we continue things as they have been but with no secrecy and 100% transparency. I'm also afraid that even though they've both been seeing the same person and have expressed interest in polyamory after talking about it with me, they might feel personally betrayed by each other and everything could backfire spectacularly, AND I could possibly explode their whole marriage.

so, WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

[ch4nb4ng]

Marital Duties

Pairing: Chan x afab!reader

Word count: 9.4k

Genre: Established relationship, married

Warning: SMUT (18+ only), phone sex, sexting, car sex, mention of boobs, oral sex (f. receving), penetration, swearing, mention of cum, mentions of pussy, kissing, praise

Note: ok i kinda nervous to post this but yas! Here is my inspo (here) (here) (here) warning it’s literally p word.

Tagged: @seo--changbin @j-0ne25 @cb97whoree @kpopsstuffs

Summary: Having a job that meant travelling and spending time away from your husband made the absence grow much fonder for you and your needs, as well as your husbands.

Work conferences were the bane of your existence. Yes you were away from your kid and sometimes it was hard, but being away from your husband was harder. There was no doubt about your job. Being a world renowned forensic psychologist was amazing and something you wanted for a long time. Sometimes though, it was nice to just curl up on the couch, read a good book, watch a comforting movie; there was nothing wrong with indulging in self-care, you just did not have the time to do so. 

The recent promotion into becoming head of the north-west region of mental health care was a big step up from your previous job. No one than you was more qualified for this. Everyone, colleagues and board members put your name up. Psychology was your life, but your family was bigger. 

Highschool sweethearts, you and your husband had been inseparable since what felt like the dawn of time. Meeting at 15, having your first dance at 17 at prom. Graduating and going to college together; If you had a dollar for everytime you accomplished a big milestone with him or because of him, you would be swimming in luxury. When the two of you got married, things just fell into place even more. The doubt of being able to help people mentally after graduating from your post grad made you nervous, but then again, you never thought that you would be married to such a wonderful man. A dream job at your local hospital fell into your lap, and your husband became the nurse that everybody wanted to assist them with their care. Working in close contact with him everyday was just another blessing in disguise; you simply could not get enough of him. It was impossible to get sick of him.

That was when you decided to have your first child. What could be a better mix than the two of you combined? The first 4 years of parenthood came with its challenges. Nevertheless, it was the best decision you ever made, and you couldn’t think of anyone better than to share the unfamiliar journey with.

The promotion, however, meant that you wouldn't work with your husband as much, and spending time with your daughter was a little limited, but you knew he would never tell you to turn something down, and in a way it was the best decision for your marriage. The times together were shorter, but it also meant that every moment was savored tenfold. The time was better quality, the acts of service more thoughtful, and the sex. The sex, was that much more passionate, just like the first time he made love to you. He would always find ways to surprise you. Whether it was the way he grasped, grabbed you on the fibers that lingered to be touched, the way his body pressed upon yours, lips lingering on new places. You were always amazed with how much he could do, and what he was capable of.

These are the ideas that tortured your mind when you were away on business trips. Calling him and hearing his voice, seeing his face through the tiny phone screen was not enough. It didn’t matter how long you had been together, you always craved and missed him significantly.

“Hang on,” he whispered through the phone speaker, “someone wants to say hi to you.”

Your heart beamed with joy every time you saw her little face on the screen. God she looked like her dad, and you knew she'd  grow up to be a beautiful woman.

“Hi mommy,” she giggled, fingers crinkling then uncrkinly as she waved at the camera, “I miss you mommy.”

“Aw baby,” you pouted, “I miss you too. Mommy will be home tomorrow. Now it’s time for you to sleep.”

“Yes,” he cooed, “and daddy is going to read you a bedtime after you say goodnight to mommy.”

Your baby squealed with joy, running out of the frame and to her room. You could do nothing but chuckles, careless that she was that excited over a book of words that she forgot to say goodnight.

“Let me call you back at 15.”

You nodded, pressing the red cross before rolling on your back and looking up at the ceiling, admiring the off white paint color, heart beating out of your chest every second that the callback was not made. It’s not that you were worried he wouldn’t call back, you just felt that longing you always did when you weren’t looking at him.

The vibration on your chest was extra sensitive. You rolled back over, now lying on your front with your hand resting on your chin, other hand holding the phone as you answered. 

“Hey baby.”

“Hiiii,” you whispered, a smile on your face impossible to be rid of.

“She was out like a light.”

“I’m glad.”

“How was your day, baby? I want to hear all about it.”

You giggled as you saw him get up, walking into the bathroom of your house as he placed you against the bench next to the sink. Chan wasn’t shy. He thought it was completely normal to remove his scrubs and leave his upper body bare as he bent down to the bottom drawer, taking out his skincare and placing it on his face. Chan was your husband. You had seen him shirtless 100 more times than you could count. It should not affect you this much. It should not make the temperature of your cheeks rise. It should not cause a sudden sharpness of change in your breath. It should not make your eyes bulge, and it should definitely not send you into a head spin when his biceps flexed when washing his face. Being a clinical psychologist meant having pristine precision and concentration, so if anybody got a hold of this live footage right now, they might question your profession.

“Y/n, Y/n?”

You blinked, quickly snapping your head to get back in the game. It was too late, however, your husband was already smirking at your distraction. You could try and play it off, but the both of you knew that he was too smart to fall for that.

“Sorry babe, I’m a bit distracted.”

“Oh yeah? What’s distracting you?”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, “you know exactly what you are doing.”

“Me?” He gasped, placing a hand on his chest, flexing his opposite bicep, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his obvious attempt to woo you over, the subtle flirt. Sometimes it was easy to resist, but in this case, it was easier to play along, feign innocence until he truly told you what he wanted. The two of you liked to play such games, especially when you were on the road. It was time for you to sit up, placing Chan on the lamp atop of the bedside table before placing yourself on the edge of the hotel bed. The buttons on your shirt were suddenly feeling a little tight. The smirk on your husband’s face grew the moment he saw the first two buttons undone, a sneak peak of your cleavage making its debut for the night. You stopped there, gently pulling down the fabric, stretching the collar of the shirt, consequently putting your chest on full display. 

“Two can play that game Mr. Bang.”

A deep chuckle escaped his lips as he walked over to your shared bedroom, placing his phone in similar fashion to yours before removing his bottoms, your husband now in nothing but his boxers as he laid down, stretching out his legs before lifting you again, wanting the closest view to your fingers continuing to remove one button at a time, a painfully slow movement to your fingertips. Fuck. Now he kind of regretted starting this game with you tonight. A gasp of gratification spilt from Chan’s lips as he watched the satin material that made up your shirt slither off those, in his words, gorgeous shoulders of yours. The black lace bra, the one being your husband’s favorites out of pure coincidence the only garment covering your chest. 

Chan loved every part of you, make no mistake. He would worship every part of your body 24/7 if he could. He simply could never get enough of you, but your chest, your breasts were on a whole different level. Chan loved your boobs. It didn’t matter what the two of you were doing, promiscuous acts or not, if he could have his hands on them, he could. Cuddling, sex, hugs; call him a pervert, but he didn’t care. It was his wife for god sakes. He would feel abnormal if he wasn’t attracted to them. Conveniently for you, this was something you could play to your advantage. Didn’t want to do the dishes? Show him your cleavage. Needed to put your daughter to sleep but you wanted him to do it? Promise him to show your cleavage after he does so. It was a convenient weapon to use, and this was the perfect time to use it. It was fair, seeing as he was using the weapon of his own to try and get you where he wanted.

“Aw come on,” he whined, “you did that on purpose?”

“Did what,” you smiled, fingers gently tracing the lace attached to the strap, “I didn’t do anything.”

Tapping the phone screen, you sighed. It was like, and your flight home was something that required you getting up much earlier that you would ever prefer. You should go to sleep. Hang up on him. You were going to see him tomorrow anyway, surely you could suppress your urges until then. 

But then you saw your husband redirect his palm from the outside of his undergarment, which was obvious to the eye, to the inside, a gentle slap against his skin as it dived past the waist band. Fuck this was cruel now. Not only because you could see his hands subtly tumbling underneath, he drew attention to how hard he already was, and you didn’t know what aroused you more: his probaby pulsating length or the fact that he was as aroused as he was because of you. It didn’t matter how many times it occurred, Chan always had a way of making you feel special. Physically, emotionally, intimately; it was part of his aura, and one of the main reasons that you were so attracted to him in the first place.

“Baby,” you gasped, hands traveling up waist and to your chest, gently kneading the mass in an attempt to match his slow pace that he was palming himself, “you’re so naughty. I have to go to bed.”

“Aw come on baby,” he groaned, head resting atop the headboard, gaze even more piercing at the angle his head was at rest, “I haven’t seen you all week.”

“I know Chan,” you sighed, your next words going to be knowingly disappointing for him, “I have to check out at 3am and it’s already almost 10. You know what I’m like when I don't get my beauty sleep.”

Chan gave you a disapproving pout as he took his hands out of boxers, a shiny ring reappearing from the undergarment as he took the phone with both and lay flat on his back, sinking under the sheets and head gliding onto the pillow. He was humbly accepting defeat, most likely because he would see you tomorrow anyway; that’s when he could have his fun.

“I know baby it’s ok,” he smiled, bringing his face as close as possible to the camera, lips still pouting, “let me give you a kiss goodnight.”

“Thank you baby,” you giggled, also leaning forward to kiss the phone screen simultaneously before whispering a small, “goodnight.”

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, and the adrenaline from your almost raunchy rendezvous over the phone wore off quickly. You weren’t that young anymore. Getting tired was much easier. There was much less energy, especially after getting riled up like that. Even if it was what you saw while you were sleeping in your dreams, and you only have to wait 12 hours to see your beautiful husband in the flesh. 

***

The alarm caused a fright, a deep groaning sound of annoyance bellowing from you, but that quickly wore off. The immediate thought of seeing Chan and your beautiful daughter being the main reason for your sudden change in temperament. Your bags were already packed and you organized your brain knowing that you would be too tired to do it in the morning The smile on your face couldnt dared to be wiped off once you were in the taxi. The cool breeze of the warm summer hitting your face as you pushed the window in the back seat halfway down. Summer was your favorite time of the year, especially since it was the time you got to spend with your family that was of the best quality. All of the aspects of your job you loved, even the times you traveled. However, your heart did sink a little when you had to travel at this time of the year. The school holidays always felt too short, so when you had to travel, the amount was even shorter.

A ding from your phone brought out of your somewhat solemn daze, heat creeping to your cheeks immediately:

[hubby <3] 7:00 am Can’t wait to see you, hope there aren't any delays at the airport.

*one attachment*

Jesus fuck. Now sending a full blown dick pick with your daughter in the car, which you assumed was there, was definitely not the way to go; and thank god your husband knew that. But that did not let him off the hook. It was a photo of him, in the mirror, with his face cut off and only his lips in the frame. He was wearing a black sleeveless tank and those fucking grey tracksuit pants. Call yourself cliche, but nothing turned you on more than that particular piece of clothing. Chan had one hand on the camera, the other hand at the base of his hardened length. He always did this. As mature as Chan was, the times he chose to be inappropriate truly were the most inconvenient for you. A loud gasp escaped your lips, head almost hitting the chair in front as the driver came to a halt.

“Everything okay back there?”

“Uh yes,” your head snapped towards him, nodding furiously as a terrible attempt at acting in the norm, “why did we stop?”

“We are at the airport, miss?”

His tone sounded one of question, kind of looking at you in the rear mirror like you were one of the strangest passengers he had. You looked outside, a ferocious laugh escaping your lips as you decided it was better to say nothing and just pay, get out, and grab your own luggage. The awkwardness left your mind in shambles. How dare he send such a photo. Your husband. It was most likely to get revenge from last night, because he knew you would have to sit on the plane and suffer in silence.

Your luggage was checked in quickly, security easy to get through; there was plenty of time to wait in the boarding lounge. At first you were annoyed by the message. The sexual frustration that had already accumulated from your absence away from him was enough, but if anything, it felt like this was an extra punishment for last night.

But then you opened it again, started analyzing it (if you could call it that) until your finger was subconsciously in your mouth. It didn’t matter how many times you looked at him, your husband, he was always going to do it for you, every single time. The ache that has been coming and going throughout the week returned, and it made you annoyed. So annoyed that you found yourself lifting your butt from your chair, walking to the bathroom and locking yourself in one of the stalls. Gripping the bottom of your shirt, you pulled it down as much as you could without taking it off, mimicking a downward looking angle in an attempt to copy your husband, lips down as the camera clicked, off silent. Fuck. It’s fine. The idea that people may have heard the sounds of you taking a photo in the toilet. You were too fueled with a horny rage to think of the ramifications as you sent your photo, giving in and responding to him.

[Y/N] 8:30am No delays. Make sure you’re there on time.

*one attachment*

Oh, he was gonna hate that. Chan had patience for a lot of things. But short, dry messages were something that made him mad. Serves him for sending you that first. You knew exactly what his reaction would be as well, but at least you could board the plane in peace.

**

It was around 3 hours before the plane arose from one location and landed in another. The plane ride was painful. You tried to do the things you usually would. Create drafts for your patients, read a book, watch a downloaded netflix movie, and just sink into your non-reclining chair and relax; but you simply couldn’t.

The brain rot that was the simple image of your husband’s half naked torso should not be affecting you this much. But that was the problem too. It wasn’t just the picture. That image was the catalyst for the sexual rumination that had been numbing your brain for the past week. The want to get home was even stronger now knowing that you really had something to look forward to.

Of course, to your dismay and longing, the baggage claim took forever, security had a long line, and by the time all of that had been completed, it was, of course, an hour schedule that you told your husband to come and pick you up. The look on his face was sour to say the least. There he was, leaning against the exterior of your shared four wheel drive, drinking his probably now lukewarm coffee. The tingle instantly came back to your core, feeling like a teenage girl again. The scene was just like old times. Chan, waiting around the corner from your house to come and pick you up. The only thing that was different was that it was slightly taller, and had a few more wrinkles. Nonetheless, he looked super hot. Still wearing those grey sweatpants, and a fucking black tank. A fucking blank tank that was probably the tightest fitting pieceing of clothing in his fucking closet. His stance was strong, biceps, triceps, and ¾ of his pecs bulging out in public, and it was truly making your brain dizzy. You walked over quietly, the jarring sound of your suitcase wheels rolling along the parking lot concrete ruining the suspense of your arrival. Chan’s head snapped, eye widening the moment you appeared in his vision. 

“Hi baby, sorry I’m late the customs took for-”

The interruption was welcome as Chan shoved his phone in his pocket, apparently with an empty takeaway coffee cup falling to the floor as he enveloped you into his arms, a groan of admiration falling from his lips as they immediately attached to yours, your body to relaxing against his, eyes fluttering shut at his touch. God, it was only a week. One week, but you craved his touch more than anything in the world. It truly was the little things such as his calloused textures, the warmth of his skin, his smile. Holy fuck his smile was, in your opinion, the greatest thing in the world that ever existed. 

“Mmmh,” you hummed, gently pulling away, hands snaking across your husband’s waist, a smug smile on your lips, “I missed you.”

“Missed you too baby,” he growled, morning raspiness to his tone, “how was your flight?”

The implication of his question made your eyes ogle, the visual image of his text message imprinting on your brain. The smirk that developed on his face formed the expression of realization that hit you. Suddenly his grip on your waist was tighter, and Chan was pulling you in even closer, leaving you to feel everything; yes, everything. 

“It was good,” you giggled, knowing that you had been caught, “what was not good was your behavior since last night.”

“Hmm is that so? I don't see this being a one-sided activity?”

Your right hand left his torso, smacking him on the chest before taking a step back and walking to the car. It was fun to pretend to be annoyed, especially because you knew it would work your husband up even more. Chan hated when you sulked, especially when he playfully called you out. Chan always liked games, and so did you, because you knew that there was always one thing it would lead to. The longer the game went on, the more passionate the ending to this game would be. You walked into the car, peacefully sitting in the passenger seat as you left your husband to take your suitcase and place it in the boot. Serves him right for being a smartass. There was no sound except for the car door once the two of you were inside. The ignition was turned on, and so were you, watching your husband's arm reach over to the shoulder of your car seat, his head turned to look behind him. This was so dumb! You really should not be aroused by this; you’ve seen him do this thousands of times.

“You okay babe?”

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of this lustful daze, “yeah, why?”

“Ok it’s just,” he paused, shifting into drive, then placing his hand on the inside of your thigh, “you’re staring at me like a piece of meat.”

“I am not,” you scoffed, “you wish I was staring at you like that.”

He said nothing, a light chuckle following as the car fell into another silence. A comfortable one at that, well, to an extent. His thumb was gently nudging at your skin, knuckles inching closer to your center. There was something in the air, and the longer it lingered, the harder it was to ignore it. The want. The need to have him. It was impossible. You knew that even if you did get home soon that your daughter was home, and there was no way you were going to traumatize her like that; kids remember everything. If you took too long in the car, your father would get suspicious. He was one to get on your nerves like that, especially if he spent more time than agreed to watching your beautiful child. 

“I got your text message this morning.”

Chan’s eyes were on the road, which forced you to keep yours. Your eyebrows furrowed however, knowing that the street he just turned down was not the right way to your house. Instead, Chan turned the opposite direction, the car coming to an immediate stop at a lookout, but not just any lookout. The lookout east. The two of you came from a small town, meaning there weren't many spots to go; that was until the lookout east was uncovered. Back then it was the talk of the town, the go to hookup spot for many. You have seen it yourself. It had a beautiful view however, and most of the time you and Chan would go just to admire the view, but did not mean that every time would be an innocent one. The two of you had not been in years, and there was a big question mark as to why you were here right now. Chan said nothing, getting out of the car and walking over to your side, opening your own door before opening the back door, crawling in with you following. The two of you got comfortable, that was, until Chan pinned you down to the back seat, lips once again attacking yours as he pressed his horny groin into yours, a deep groan bellowing from your husband's chest. His dominance was easy to comply with, the desperate moan falling from your lips a culmination of feelings from the past 12 hours. This really could have been the horniest you have ever been in your whole entire life, even including the times of excessive sexual hormonal changes during pregnancy. His tongue snaked past your lips, without any slight of permission as his hips fell into a gentle rhythm. Chan moved with such delicacy and poise, yet somehow he was able to convey his ultra high level of arousal. Now you were in big trouble; it was serious business when Chan pinned you down like that. It meant he had serious business to take care of. 

“Chan,” you tried to speak, his lips interrupting each word, “what, are you doing?”

He pulled away, sitting up. Chan said nothing, eyes fixated on your chest as he grasped your wrist to pull you up, your body clumsily falling into him as you fixed your balance. Chan was quick to attack your lips again, hands making light work as they gripped onto the edge of your shirt. Your arms lifted unconsciously, allowing the kiss to break as he took off your shirt, your upper body in nothing but your undergarments. Your husband was like a kid in a candy store the moment he saw the slightest bit of cleavage. Chan’s arms wrapped around your back as he effortlessly unclasped the unwanted fabric, lips immediately attaching to your left nipple. A gracious moan fell from your lips, a hand tickling the back of the hair at the base of his skull, keeping a guidance. At first this tongue was small, gentle. A few kitty licks right in the center. Although it was minimal touch, you were one to have more sensitive nipples, so the feeling was already heaven enough. It wasn’t until his entire mouth was attached, a parietal noise of vacuum escaping his lips each time your tit went in and out of his mouth. 

“Mmmmm,” you hummed, back arching slightly at the subtle texture of his teeth, “you’re like fuckin newborn.”

“Mhh can’t help it,” he huffed, out of breath, hand replacing his lips for a brief moment, “makes me want to have another kid.”

Chan gave you no time to reply, lips resuming their position, but now on the opposite nipple. His fingers never stopped moving, either on your shoulder, running up and down your arms, but mainly on your breasts, doing whatever he can to feel you. Each squeeze of the mound brought a whine to your throat. His statement ran through your mind and just stayed there. Having another kid was not really something the two of you had ever spoken about. It wasn’t that it was off the table, no. It truly was just something that had not come up in conversation. You could understand why he wanted to have one, and in this moment especially, it had nothing to do with having an actual child. 

It is true that when you met your husband, your body shape resembled more of a P, but when you were pregnant with your daughter, Chan was on another planet. Any chance he got, his hands were on them. Call him twisted, but he loved how much bigger and softer they got when you were deep into pregnancy.

When you came back out of thought, and the major distraction of your husband's lips on your body, you pushed him away gently. You followed the sort of harsh motion with a gentle peck to his lips, arm wrapping around his neck as you smiled at him in disbelief. The last chance the two of you, well more him, had been so reckless like this was so long ago you would not even be able to recall. This didn’t mean you hated it though, if anything, it satisfied that little part of your adolescence that lingered. The adolescence that was always sparked whenever you were away. Whenever your calls turned to a lustful space. The photos. The phone calls. Usually the ‘rebellious’ behaviors were to compensate for the distance. But now, Chan was hungry for you, even when you were right in front of him.

“Babe, what has gotten into you?”

Your husband buried his face into your chest, a large breath filling his nostrils, your scent deeply satisfying him before he responded. 

“I just missed you a lot, baby. And that picture you sent drove me fucking wild.”

A smirk appeared on your lips, legs hovering over your husband's waist before encasing the lower limbs around his waist, a light amount of friction created by the swift move of your hips makes him hum in pleasure. Your eyes, now sitting on top of his lap, gazed over, looking down on the poor man. There was a slight emotion of guilt there. Depriving him of getting what he wanted. You didn't really care though. If anything, pissing him off usually led to better sex after, and there was nothing in this moment that you wanted more. 

“Mmmh, as much as I want this,” you mumbled, another soft kiss in between your sentences, “I need to go home and see my daughter which I have not seen in a week.” 

“You’re right,” Chan chuckled, “I am getting a little bit carried away, aren't I?” 

Yeah he was impatient, but he understood, and it was one thing you really loved about him. He was extremely empathetic, sometimes to a fault. Able to put himself in everyone else’s shoes. So as soon as you mentioned wanting to see your daughter more, he understood. He passed you your bra and shirt, quickly helping you put them back on, not without stealing another mouth watering kiss, and hopping back into the driving and passenger seat promptly. 

The drive was once again peaceful; which lasted around 30 seconds. Maybe it was a better idea to just fuck in the back of your car, because the ache between your legs, when reflecting on the past week, was at the most intense it had been. Maybe this was your karma for withholding your body from your very eager husband. It didn’t matter now because whether you liked it or not, all of this was going to have been scheduled at a much later, uncertain time.

Chan’s hand was placed on your thigh like before, the light background and the noise somewhat distracting you, but not for long. Your husband’s grip was getting stronger and stronger, inching closer and closer to your wanting pussy with each second. A sharp gasp left your lips when his middle finger traced over the hem of your jeans, your level of arousal heightened to the point where even the breeze most likely was enough to partly satisfy yourself.

“Chan.”

“Y/n.”

“Stop it,” you whined, fingers coincidentally fidgeting with the button of your jeans, following the same direction with your zipper before the pair of pants were below your waist, your bottom undergarments now on display. You looked down, embarrassed at the mass wet patch coating your panties. Your husband's hands took a little bit of a wander, but froze almost immediately when he felt that familiar patch he had felt oh so many times. The digits were quick to act, another moan spelling from your mouth as soon as he got you in the exact spot he knew to touch. That were the perks of having a husband, because whether the time of orgasm was long or short, he knew exactly where to touch you to make that happen.

“Your body is having the opposite reaction,” he smirked, “and my eyes are strictly on the road.”

“And keep it that way.”

“Mhmm,” he ignored, fingers somehow able to push your panties to the side, raw fingertips now spreading open those pussy lips. God you felt dirty, nasty. How could you do this in your fucking car? Too horny to even wait until you were in the comfort of your bedroom. You were much too harsh on yourself. It was most definitely your husband's fault for opening that can of worms the moment he rocked up on the facetime camera without his shirt on. Therefore, your humility was minimized, there were always much worse things you could have done. Chan was easily able to find that wanting little entrance of yours, two fingers effortlessly plunging themselves inside, the unsympathetic texture of his hard working fingers gently scratching the velvet interior of your walls, hips now gently rocking back and forth on him. Your hands came to your breasts automatically, pinching, twisting, flicking the sensitive buds in any way possible that could create a replica of Chan’s mouth from previous moments. Fuck, no one else could do you like your husband, even yourself.

“Fuck Chan,” you whimpered, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Shh it’s okay,” he cooed, coaxing you through his honey textured tone, “just let it feel good, worry about other things later.”

Just as you let your head fall against the headrest, eye fluttering shut, the car came to a halt. Eyes flying open, a mound of disappointment when your visual fields were filled with your front yard. To your dismay, your husband withdrew his fingers from your pussy, a large squelching sound in the moment as he placed his hands on the gear shift, placing the toe of your into park before turning the car ignition off. The look you were giving your husband now was one of sadness, despair, making him laugh. He loved when you were dramatic.

“You’re not happy to be home?”

“Shut up,” you huffed, redoing your pants up before storming out of the car, forcing your husband to grab your suitcase as you stood impatiently at the front door, waiting for him to open it. It would be impossible to wipe the puffed up look of content on his face, knowing that he got right under your skin. Games were fun to play, but you simply knew that if he didn’t give you what you wanted soon, the house would fall into chaos. It was one thing to wind you up, but this time it was too far to push through, then stop just when things were getting good.

A fake smile plastered on your face, the refreshing thought of seeing your daughter coming back into your mind as you walked through your abode. It faded however, unable to see or hear anything that resembled your little baby. It wasn’t until you walked down your long hallway that led to your kitchen that you saw the note on your marble bench. It read the following:

Hi Darling, hope you had a safe flight!

I have taken my beautiful granddaughter to the park for a playdate with a couple of her friends and the other available parents. 

We are leaving at around midday, and won’t be back for a few couple hours. Apologies you will have to wait a little longer, but I couldn’t say no to her beating eyes when she asked me.

I'll see you when I’m looking at you.

Dad

“Chan!”

Your timbre was loud, somewhat frightening your husband as he rolled your luggage across the floor, meeting you in your shared kitchen. He was kind of worried. Chan knew that your dad was taking care of her while he went to pick you up, but he never said anything about taking her out. He stood next to you, trying to analyze your expressions before you spoke. You missed your daughter a lot, there was nothing false about that statement. Nonetheless, when the smug look came to your face at the thought of what having an empty house implied, you couldn't help yourself. 

“Did you know that my dad took her to the park?”

Oh fuck. Chan thought he was in trouble; big big trouble. 

You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to suppress your smile at how hopeless he looked. Being the medical professional you were, it was easy to read your husband like a book. And after his actions, which were already on the verge of crossing the threshold of what you would put up with, he was in his every right mind to react this way. Walking on eggshells was the right way to go. From his friskiness on the phone, to sending an almost naked picture to you in public, to publicly groping and prodding at your highly aroused body in the discomfort of your car, to now delaying your reunion with his daughter; my my my did he dig himself a massive grave that he would not be able to dig himself out of this one. 

“No,” he answered, hesitance leaking from his tone, “she must have asked him after I left.”

“Right,” you paddled, handing the note your dad had left to your husband. A sigh of relief in the form of his chest falling from the fat breath he sucked in before dissipating from his chest. Taking a step close, your husband ignored, focusing all his efforts on the written material until he felt the texture of what was your fingertips find a place on his torso, index fingers ‘accidentally’ finding a way underneath the hem of the thin material that made up his shirt. The note was removed from your husband’s face in the form of a toss with his own hand, eyes piercing into yours the more and more the skin of his torso was being exposed to the light. Your palms then became a part of the conversation, gently pressing against your husband's groin as you could feel his length awake from a light slumber.

“Why am I sensing that you’re not mad now?”

“Me,” You gasped, feigning ignorance as you finally pulled the flimsy material over your husband’s head, “I was never mad?”

“You weren’t?”

“No Mr. Bang,” you giggled, wrapping your hands around your husband’s neck once more, “Mad that you have been teasing me for almost 24 hours straight?”

Chan didn’t answer, instead sweeping your legs off the floor and into your arms, carrying your bridal style back down the said hallway, bedroom door conveniently already open as he laid you down on your back. A hum of happiness fell from your lips at the familiar feeling of your own bed sheets encompassing your back. You were brought out of those thoughts quickly however, your husband left you little to revel in bed texture, removing his sweats immediately before lifting you by the armpits again, leaving you to stand and him sitting on the edge of your shared mattress. The invitation of your barely dressed husband with a pressing erection straining his boxers was a very enticing seat. One that you took without a second thought as his hands were straight for your throat, a gentle squeeze as your lips connected first, legs cloaking his waist once more, the both of your tongues fighting for dominance over each other. Chan’s mouth vibrated as he relaxed into the sensual nature of the kiss, hands drifting away from your upper body and right to the outside of your thighs, a gentle tingle of fingertips dancing across your heated skin as you pulled away from a brief moment, wanting to match at least half of his body in the lack of clothing. Your husband helped as he withdrew his hands from your body for a brief moment, deciding to, rather than pull your nice shirt over your head like a normal person, he pulled the seams apart, splitting the shirt into two before using one hand only to unclasp your bra this time. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t impressed by it everytime.

“I liked that shirt,” you pouted, “did you have to rip it?” “I’m sorry y/n,” he chuckled, hands snaking up your sides another time, “I just want you so badly.”

There was no time to react as your husband gripped your hips, spinning you around and pinning you into the mattress. His second attack followed impeccably, hands fumbling on your jeans before getting them undone, panties groped in unison as they hit the side wall. That was an irrelevant detail, because Chan was lying on his front, abs rubbing against your core as he brought his hands back to your tits; his most favorite thing in the world. The man could not keep his hands still, mouth slobbering all over the sensitive skin as he began his second attack of the day on your nipples. 

“Never gets old,” you giggle, a gentle moan following after at the contrast of your flimsy mounds and rock hard nubs. Chan’s hands felt like no other, and when he had them on you, it was the time when you felt like the luckiest woman in the world. Your husband’s chuckles followed closely to yours. Seeing his wife happy was one thing, but knowing that he could make you feel this good aroused him to another level. His admiration deepend, yes, but it was somewhat of an ego boost for him. Knowing that he was that good with his fingers. 

Your husband’s lips, like his hands, began to wander, a strip of wet kisses trailing down the center of your stomach, causing him to crawl back further and further until his lips were just above your core. Chan brought his fingers right back to where he had them in the car, easily able to slip in two fingers without warning, a deep groan gritting his teeth at the way your back arched for him monumentally. The sight was one that he had been craving, one that you craved yourself. It did not matter how far apart you were from your husband, his appetite for you would never change. If he wanted to be close, he wanted to be close. If he wanted to be far, well that was just simply not plausible. As much as he wanted to pleasure you, make you feel good, like the diligent role of a husband should be, it was the closeness that motivated him every time. Chan longed for these moments, especially since the introduction of your daughter restricted the ability to do so. At any possible moment, Chan would demand to do whatever he could to profess his love, and it was always done with his mouth; his tongue to be more specific. 

In this scenario, rather than speaking with tongue, it was sticking out of your husband’s lips, flattening as he dived in head first without hesitation, your hands automatically rummaging through the thick mound of curls that supported the top of his head. His tongue was heaven, spreading your pussy lips farther and farther apart and he used that ferocious organ to fiercely suck on your wanting nub. A monstrous moan escaped your lips at the contact, a gratifying humm coming from his throat at the way you tugged on his locks. Your eyes were barely open, unable to prevent yourself letting your eyelids dance back and forth from open to shut, mesmerized at the current view you had when hunching your neck to see. Chan could see the way you were desperate to view his fulfilling prophecy that was going down on his wife, making sure to lay his chest flat on your bed, ejecting his fingers from your cunt and hooking each forearm around each leg, compressing them into the mattress, giving you the perfect perspective of the combination that was his lips and tongue simultaneously pleasuring your aching core. If this was going to be the result after pining for each other for around 12 hours only, you would never think about it twice. 

“I love being married,” you whined, another humorous hum escaping your husband’s lips, “tongue feels so good.”

“Mmmh,” he mumbled, half of his face muffled in your pussy, “you taste so good.”

“What was that?”

He took away his tongue for a brief moment, looking you deep in the eye before repeating his statement.

“You taste so good.”

He didn’t want to take much time away from making you, his wife, feel good, let alone waste his breath on 3 words. His tongue snaked across your inner thigh, the organ licking a gentle strip up each leg before descending back onto your gushing pussy. The smile on your face at his works was impossible to wipe off, your moans through the pearly whites getting louder and louder at the same time with your core, the accumulation of your slick and Chan’s oral fluids contributing to the squelching sound that was bringing you closer and closer to peak arousal. His lust was simply one of trance and dedication. It genuinely could not be explained enough how much he loved seeing you like this, knowing that he was the one that was doing so. Your lips contorted, unable to keep the smile as your bite down on the skin below your bottom lip, harsh enough to leave a line of marks before you were sitting up, hands leaving his hair and dominating his face, palms spread across either side before pressing a kiss to his lips. Your nose crinkled, easily identifying the taste of you on his tongue before giving him one last look, eyes completely open as you crawled backwards on your elbows, left index fingers curling in a come hither motion. The invitation was simply too divine to resist. Your husband turned into a predator, jumping on top of you like he had just caught his prey. His moves were delicate, making sure to not crush you underneath him. His lips were itching to be on yours again, and the feelings were returned, tongue automatically parting his lips and dipping inside his wanting mouth as his hands left your figure for a brief moment, slipping the thin material down his legs and over his feet, fingertips, like magnets to his wife’s skin, straight back onto you. Your own hands were now back on your husband's body, fingernails digging into the large mound of muscles that was his upper back as his fully erect length pressed against your heat. A moan slipped out of your mouth and straight into his, causing him to pull away.

“Fuck you really missed me, didn’t you?”

His smirk was fucking priceless. So annoying, but it would just be a flat out lie if you said you were not attracted to it in the slightest. Cocky did not look good on most people, but it 100% suited your husband. Your nails buried themselves deeper into his flesh at his statement, a poor attempt at humbling him in the slightest as another moan fell from your lips as he began slightly rocking back and forth, the tip of his pre-cum soaked tip hitting your extremely sensitive nub. You went to open your mouth, a failing endeavor of speaking a sentence when the only thing coming out being sounds of pleasure.

“Don’t tease me Mr. Bang,” you mumbled in between each groan, bucking your hips to create a larger friction between your two bodies. Chan was getting impatient himself, but god, did he love to tease you. Your husband had no trouble making you orgasm over and over, he just had displeasure in making you cum so quickly. Your body was sensitive solely to him, even after all these years, it didn’t take much to get you there. Therefore, teasing you made the process so much more enjoyable. Watching you squirm was something that he really enjoyed. 

“Hmm Mrs. Bang,” he hummed, lifting his hips off of yours, one hand now wrapped around the base of him, “you’re so cute when you’re all hot and bothered.”

Your eyes formed into a squint, annoyed at how easily he was pinning you down, “stop playing games and fuck me. Preferably today before they get home.”

“Oh fuck,” Chan chuckled, prodding at your pussy hole with his length, “you’re right, let me get to business.”

It was funny when previously mentioned that Chan left to tease and see you squirm, because once his length was comforted by the strength of your tight walls, your husband was a mess. He couldn't help it. Your pussy, after being with you for so many years, molded exactly to the shape and maneuvers that Chan needed. He tried to maintain a slow pace, allowing for your cunt to stretch perfectly around him, wanting you to feel every inch of him; but it simply was too irresistible to resist. Chan wrapped his hands around your ankles, lifting your limbs in the air and stretching them as far as they could go before kneeling on his knees as he began to flat out pound your busy. His pace was not as fast no, by the velocity of the thrusts was truly toe curling. Your jaw dropped to the floor if it could, the bedhead surely denting the walls at the arms as each time his hope made contact with your contact, a large noise resembling a slap occurred. Your husband was usually not as rough, but it’s not that you’re complaining at all. It was rare that he would just throw you around like this, usually if he was frustrated or that you had been away. So really, you should have seen this coming. Maybe it was what provoked you to reply to his lustful text in such a similar manner; whatever you have been doing it was right seeing as he was making your pussy cry with arousal. 

Chan’s teeth sunk into your left calf, a string of large huffs and puffs escaping from his chest as he put all his mighty effort into each thrust, your husband breathing heavy at the combination of his force and pleasure he got from fucking you like that. His eyes ogled however, at how easily your tits bounced back and forth.

“Fuck,” you shouted, “s-so rough.”

“You like that?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, keeping your legs in the air as your pulled him by the neck, foreheads accidentally smashing foreheads together with a significant force, “you’re fucking me like you want to put another kid in me.”

“Maybe I do,” he grunted, pressing a kiss to your lips in between, “maybe I should put another kid in you.”

God the way he talks, especially like that, turns you on so much. Your hands now travel back to the familiar spot of his back, pulling his chest against yours as he picked up his pace, thrusts much smoother with rhythm as your eyes fluttered shut, head hitting the back of the pillow ad your husband relentlessly fucked your pussy. A deep breath blew from your lips, an insufficient try to maintain your composure as your husband refused to set a forgiving speed.

“Fuck your pussy,” he growled, unable to finish his sentence.

“Yeah baby?”

“Mine,” he huffed, his own eyes fluttering shut as he pinned your upper limbs next to your head, head dipping down back to your breasts, a ferociously lick on your left nipple before he continued, “Fuck I’ll fuck another fucking child into that fucking pussy if you want me to.” 

Chan became a menace when he reached his peak horniness, and during this timeline, that was right now. Anyone who met or knew Chan, as a well-respected friend, colleague, or even a stranger, knew that was one of the most polite people that you could possibly have the pleasure of meeting. Not one to swear, always use his manners and respect other people’s time and values. However, it was only you who got to see the truly feral side of him, like this, cursing his head off. It was only at this point did he forget that facade of a well-mannered gentleman. Chan was certainly not polite or gentlemen like when he fucked you, and it was a guilty pleasure of yours. It always aroused you to hear him say ‘fuck’, mumble a ‘motherfucker’ or ‘shit’ under his breath, even just in normal dialgoue. So when he said it during sex, it truly was one of the hottest fucking things your had ever seen. 

“Do it,” you mumbled, unable to use your full voice, “put a kid in me.”

“Really?”

His head snapped up immediately, lips moving back to your own, pecking you one more time, but with his eyebrows raised in surprise, “Are you being serious?”

“Yes,” you smiled, fingertips spreading across your husband’s cheeks, “you have my permission.”

“Oh fuck,” he grumbled, “you really shouldn’t have said that.”

Chan’s hands snuggled under your back, scooping you and placing you up right on him, cock still inside of you as he sat up himself, keeping you close to his torso as he scooched the end of the bed. He let out a groan as he stood up, hands trailing to your hips as began to bounce you. A new level of sound escaped your lips at the new angle he was hitting inside of your pussy. It was smart to keep your arms enclosed around his neck, head buried into his chest as he still managed to keep the same pace. You really didn’t know how much more of this you could handle; the pressure in your body was building. The pit of your stomach was making its way to your final high, and your muscles were tightening in conjunction. The room’s scent was full of sweat, but also passion. Sweet sweet passion and sweet sweet love filled the four nostrils in the room, bringing you even closer to the edge. 

“Chan?”

“Y/n, you okay baby?”

“I’m gonna cum baby,” you whined, “I'm gonna cum so hard.”

“Oh me fucking too baby,” he fritted through his jaw breaking teeth clench, “I’m about to blow so fucking hard.”

“Yeah?”

“All in this pussy,” he whined, placing you back down on the bed, “my pussy.”

“Mhm, all yours.”

Your husband kept your back arching off the edge of the bed, making sure that when let go of himself, that nothing but even a drop would drip out of your hole. His hips became erratic; you could tell that your husband would not last much longer. Not that you were far off either, but you know that the release of his seed would tip you over the edge. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, hard, “Y/n I’m so sorry I’m gonna cum first.”

“It’s ok,” you whined, “I need your seed inside of me so fucking badly.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” you clenched, eyes dark with lust as he kept his gaze on you, “put a fucking kid in me.”

“I fucking love my fucking wife so much,” he spat, jaw falling agape as his load exploded, the ropes of your husband’s orgasm roping over and over inside of you, “I fucking love you so much.”

“Fuck Chan,” you screamed, your own orgasm washing over and sending you into a haze, “it feels so good inside of me.”

Your whine was so attractive to Chan that he leant down to kiss you one more time, before withdrawing his aching cock, falling to your side in a heavy breath. He was quick to get back into action, however, falling off the bed and grabbing your ankles again, lifting them off the floor and onto the bed, ensuring that not a lick of his load would fall out. A fat giggle escaped from your lips when you watched him do so.

“Fuck you were serious about that kid hey?”

He was already gone, annoyingly leaving you by himself. He was quick to come back however, returning with a glass of water and a banana from the kitchen bench, handing over to you without a second thought. Your lips turned into a smile automatically, practically chugging the water down to quench your thirst before peeling the banana open. Your husband took his spot next to you, lying on his side as he watched you with admiration. All of a sudden you felt self-conscious, hesitating before putting your lips anywhere near the fruit.

“I’m starting to think you got this fruit for a particular reason.”

“No,” he chuckled, “just eat it.”

You looked away from him as your lips ‘accidentally’ slipped down the banana, much past where necessary to take a bite. You could see your husband's jaw clenching out of the corner of your eye as your motion.

“What,” you mumbled, mouth full of food, “you were asking for it.”

“Fuck your lucky that your daughter is going to be home soon.”

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Angela Lansbury (The Harvey Girls, The Court Jester, The Manchurian Candidate)—The babe, the myth, the legend. In her own words her early hollywood roles were "a series of venal bitches" and they were all glorious. Half of them wanted to kill you and you probably would have thanked them. She even goes toe to toe with Judy Garland in The Harvey Girls! That said, she was chronically underused and misused during this era - she was just 36 when she was cast as Elvis Presley's mother in Blue Hawaii and a few years later commented that she'd played so many 'old hags' that most people thought she was in her 60s. She thought she was "all talent, no looks" but she was the full package! Post-1970 I hope we all know what an incredibly talented and compassionate badass she was, but I feel like not enough people know her early roles as a hot (often villainous) young thing.

Angie Dickinson (Rio Bravo, Point Blank, Ocean's Eleven)—Though it could be argued that overall her career leans more to TV, during this time period she was splitting movie title credits with the very top names in the business.

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Propaganda for Angie Dickinson:

Propaganda for Angela Lansbury:

"Angela Lansbury might not be where your mind goes first when you think of hot leading women, because she had a later career revival. But she began acting in the early 1940s after leaving London due to the Blitz. In the first couple decades of her film career she has an openness about her. She said she never really fit in with the Hollywood crowd and to me she gives off a friendly, untarnished vibe."

"Most of us know Angela Lansbury as old lady sleuth Jessica Fletcher, but it's important to know that she was smoking hot in her younger days as well as a damned fine actress. Although she didn't get lead roles until her early 40s, at 17 she was a supporting actress in films such as Gaslight (1944), National Velvet (1944), and The Picture of Dorian Grey, for which she won the Golden Globe for best supporting actress and was nominated for the Oscar. Even in her memorable performance as the manipulative mother in The Manchurian Candidate, she is listed as a supporting actress as she does not play the love interest. She was successful both on stage and screen, and won the Tony for her lead role in the musical Mame on Broadway in 1966. TL;DR While Angela Lansbury mostly played supporting roles in films before 1970, she had what it takes to be a leading actress, which we know from her success on stage and tv from the mid 60s onward"

"She looked like a princess but bit like a viper"

"Is there anything this woman couldn't do? Act in comedy and drama, sing, dance, be a wonderful human being - quite simply a true and wonderful lady."

"god she had such an incredible career all throughout her life really but as a young lady she was just as incredible as she was in her later years. enchanting voice, amazing personality, and absolutely GORGEOUS. she lamented not having the looks to play leads in romance but that idea is so batshit because look at her??? she's one of the most terrific women of all time. also she's my grandmother's favorite actress and i truly get it"

"she is the fairytale princess of my dreams in court jester"

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

My Girls - Max Verstappen

<word count - 4,848>

"Y/N, liefde, go. We will be fine," Max said, trying to push you out of the door for your first day back at work since Aleta had been born. You hadn't left her before, and it wasn't like you didn't trust Max because he was a brilliant dad, but you were already getting separation anxiety. 

Christian had told you to take all the time you needed, but you decided it was time to go back or else you didn't think you ever would. Max tried to get you to you to quit your job and become a full time mum, but you didn't want to and he respected that.

As he shoved you out of the door, you turned over your shoulder to see your beautiful baby girl bouncing in her carrier with a gummy smile on her face. You knew she'd be fine, but you didn't want to go. "You're going to be late," he tried to convince you as you stood on your doorstep.

"I know, but one more cuddle won't hurt," you said, trying to lunge past him to no avail. Max grabbed you and picked you up, walking you down the stone path to the car. All three of you had gone back to the UK so that you could carry on working, and Max would still be flying around for races. 

"I love you, and I will see you later," he smiled, kissing you quickly and opening the car door. Begrudgingly, you clambered into the car, started the engine, and pulled away before you had the chance to turn back. 

Max sighed once you had gone, glad that you were getting out of the house for a bit. When he was sure you had definitely gone and not turned around, he headed back in the house to check on little Aleta, who was still bouncing about in her carrier. 

"OK princess, we have some work to do," he said, picking up the infant as she flashed him a toothless smile and gargled happily. It shocked him how much he loved the little person, and he didn't believe it when people said that you love your child in a special way. Now, nothing seemed truer and purer that the bond between parent and child. 

—

Walking through the doors to the Red Bull HQ, you instantly felt at home in the building. The people smiled fondly at you, and almost everyone asked how Aleta was doing and you proudly showed off pictures of her.

It took you around an hour to actually get to your office, but you were glad to be back once you had settled in. You walked through the door to see a huge bouquet of pink flowers perched brightly on your desk. 

The note read, 'Dear Y/N, we hope you've enjoyed your time off and are well rested, and we all hope to meet Aleta sometime soon! It is brilliant to have you back - Christian and the Team'. By the side of the flowers, was a framed photo of you, Max and Aleta that you had taken a few days after she was born. 

A few tears stung your eyes at the thoughtfulness of the gift, and you pushed the frame to the side of your computer so that you could always look at it and have it there. 

You smiled at the note and the kind gesture, but you quickly got back to work, planning some challenges for Max, Checo and (new recruit) Daniel to do before the opener in Bahrain. As you were brainstorming, there was a knock at the door. 

"Come in!" you shouted, expecting it to be Christian since he said he would pop over to your office at some point in the day. "Hi," someone curtly said, closing the door behind them. That voice was familiar - and painfully so. 

"Get out, Scott," you bitterly spat, glaring at him over the top of your computer screen. The sight of him made your blood boil. You didn't feel hurt anymore, because Max had patched up the cracks that he had left in your heart. You just felt anger towards the pathetic excuse of a man that stood before you. 

"Can we just talk?" he sheepishly asked, approaching the desk and lifting the photo frame from it. Before you could snatch it off him, he got a good look at the perfect daughter he had abandoned. "Don't you dare," you scoffed, plucking the picture out of his hand and setting back on your desk. 

"Can I see her?" he asked, and the question just pissed you off more. 

"You lost the right to see her the moment you told me to get rid of her," you coldly said, fidgeting in your seat. You couldn't guarantee that you wouldn't hit him if he came nearer, so you stayed in your seat. "Please, Y/N," he pleaded, and you found it rather amusing. 

Lifting your hand up to scratch your head, Scott spotted the ring on your finger glinting under the office lights. "So you're marrying him?" he half scoffed half asked, but it sounded like a rhetorical question. 

"Yes, I am," you dead-panned, waiting for someone to walk by so you could send them to Christian's office. "How the hell could you marry him after what? 5 months?" 

"Well 5 months was a hell of enough time to realise that he's a whole lot better than you could ever be. Max cared about me when you didn't have any fucks to give. Max took care of me when you left me by myself. Max loves our child more than you ever could," you yelled at him, losing your cool completely. 

"How do you know when you won't give me a chance!" He shouted back, squaring up to you as you got out of your chair. "You didn't give me a chance, did you Scott? You told me to get rid of her and forget about it," you spat back at him.

"This is me giving you a chance, Y/N," he said, and you couldn't believe the audacity of him. He decided to show up, nearly a year too late to try and right the wrong he had made. But, no apology would ever be enough. "You can stick your chance up your ass," you scoffed, seeing people gathered outside of the door as they had opened it to see what was happening.

"He isn't her father," 

"Max was there for the scans, through the morning sickness, through the moodwings, through the late nights. Where were you?" you asked as he realised that people were there and listening. Scott stood there, wide eyed in surprise. 

"Where the fuck were you, Scott?" you asked again as more people appeared in the doorway. Before he had chance to answer, Christian walked through the door. "Scott, my office, now," he instructed, and Scott scampered away with his tail tucked between his legs. 

"Y/N, someone will come for you shortly," your boss said, ushering all of the people away from your office. You felt bad for letting that unfold how it did in an office environment, but there was no chance you were letting him speak to you like that.

While you waited for someone to come through, you tried to focus on your work, but your mind always wandered to Scott and how much of a dick he was. After around half an hour, Christian's secretary came through and told you to go to his office. 

There was no point in knocking as the door was already open and he waved you in. "So, tell me what happened,". You smirked in your head - this was going to be good. 

"So, I was doing my work, Scott knocked and I told him to come in because I didn't know who it was. He asked if we could talk, and I said no because this is not the right place to do that. He saw that I was engaged and asked how I could marry Max after the short time we have had together. He asked if he could see Aleta, I said no, then he asked for a chance and I started arguing with him. I am at fault, because I did argue back instead of being mature, so I apologise for that," you said. 

"I shouldn't have allowed him to rile me up like that, especially at work, and I am so sorry you are having to waste your time doing this," you apologised, a small part of you terrified that you were going to lose your job. 

"To start, thank you for being honest with me, it makes this a lot easier. Secondly, I appreciate that this situation is difficult, but that is not a reason to have fights like that in the office. However, we have decided to let Scott go," he said, and you worried even more. 

Even if Max did want you to stay at home, getting fired was not the way he wanted it to happen. He wanted it to be on your terms. "But we can't cope without you and this wasn't really your fault, so you're safe... For now," he joked, and you let out the air you had been holding in your lungs as he spoke. 

"Thank you, Christian. Again, I am really sorry," you said, standing and going back to your office. The rest of the day went by without a hitch, and you were free to drive home. 

—

"Right Leta, do we think mommy wants steak or chicken?" Max cooed at the infant as she sat in her carrier on the floor of the butchers. Of course, she didn't understand, but she gargled along just because it was her daddy talking to her.

"Yeah, I think she'd prefer steak too," he said, and the burly butcher behind the counter couldn't help but smile warmly at the pair. "Which steak are you thinking of?" he asked as Max turned to face him. "The best ones you have," he said. 

Max paid for the steaks and headed to their next destination. Now, this one was a bit of a peculiar stop, but you had burned up your entire store of them and the evening wouldn't be complete without at least one. 

When he walked into the store, he was washed over with a wave of different scents of floras. He looked around, each section labelled something different. After sniffing pretty much every candle the store had to offer while also being asked by the staff of he needed help multiple times, he was torn between two different scents.

"OK schatje, what do we think of fresh cotton?" he asked, holding the candle in front of Aleta. Did she have a clue what was going on? Absolutely not, but she was just smiling because Max was pulling funny faces at her. 

"I like your thinking, Lita, I like it," he said, picking up the rose scented candle and giving it a sniff. He held it out to Aleta, and she was just smiling because it was pink. "Yeah, I think this is the one as well. Good choice," he smiled at her, thinking he was going crazy since he was talking to a baby like she could understand.

He finally had everything he needed, and took Aleta home so that she could take a nap. Thankfully, she was a really easy baby when it came to falling asleep, so that didn't take longer than 10 minutes as she was tired after her big day.

Now, it was time for him to get to work. As the potatoes were boiling, Max headed upstairs and got extra dressed up in a suit to really make the night special. 

Just as everything was finished, he heard your car pull up onto the driveway and he stood in position by the dinner table. You trudged up the driveway with the bouquet of flowers from Christian in hand.

When you opened the door, you were greeted with the sight of the kitchen, lit up with candles and the table was all set up nicely. Walking through, you spotted Max stood there, looking handsome as ever. "What's this?" you asked, taking in the scene around you. 

"Nothing, I felt like treating you tonight," he smirked, walking towards you and taking the flowers off of you, "Who are these from?"

"Christian," you said.

"I'll put these in a vase," he said, taking them over to the sink to put some water in the container. "I'll go and get changed, give me a minute," you said. 

"No, you look perfect," 

"Max, I want to blend in," you laughed, running upstairs and dashing to the wardrobe. You flung your work clothes off and picked out the fanciest dress that you had here. You had more back in Monaco, but you brought a few home with you. 

You walked back downstairs, the soft pink fabric pooling around your feet. "You looked amazing before, but wow," he stuttered, pulling your chair out for you. 

"Thank you, darling," you smiled, sitting down and getting comfy at the table. Max brought out the first course before taking a seat himself. "So, how was work?" he asked, desperate to know how your first day had gone.

"Well, I missed the two of you so much it was unreal. I've planned some very fun things for you, Checo and Daniel to do, so look forward to that. Oh, and Scott got fired," you added quickly on the end. You really didn't want to tell him about the argument because you knew he'd get annoyed. 

"What did he do?" Max asked. Scott was a very good mechanic, to be fair to him, so there must have been some reason that he was fired, and he had a feeling you were involved. "What do you mean?" you asked, trying to hide the obvious fact that you were lying. 

"He was a perfectly good mechanic, he must have done something wrong," Max explained, and you could tell by the smug look on his face that he knew he was right. "We just had an argument, it was nothing," you shrugged, hoping he would move past it.

"Has to have been more than nothing if he got fired for it," Max pressed, waiting for you to tell him everything. He knew you would, it would just take a bit of pushing. "He was just asking about Aleta," you told him.

"What did you say?" 

"He asked about Aleta and he said he wanted to see her, I told him not a chance, then he saw we were engaged and went batshit nuts," you deadpanned, hoping he wouldn't ask about how he went nuts. Max would be pissed off. 

"What do you mean nuts?" he asked. Well there goes those hopes. 

"He started banging on about how you aren't her real father and this and that," you said, and you sheepishly watched as his face contorted into anger, near on rage. "Who the fuck does he think he is?" he half-shouted, before quietening down when he remembered that Aleta was upstairs asleep. 

"Max, it's fine, we won't have to see him ever again," you tried to calm him down, but you could see his blood was boiling as much as yours was when Scott came in and yelled at you. "He doesn't have the right to say those things to you," he seethed, putting his knife and fork down. 

"Darling, don't worry about it, really," you said, as it looked like Max was accepting the fact that there was nothing he could do that wouldn't damage his career. "I just can't believe the nerve," he said, resuming his food. 

Finally, the two of you had finished dinner completely and you were just gazing at each other across the table. "Thank you for this, I really appreciate it," you smiled, looking into his eyes. So blue and so calming. 

"You deserve a hell of a lot more, but this is the best we can do with a newborn," he replied, taking your hand from across the table. You didn't exchange any words, Max just stood up, and you followed suit. 

He led you over to the couch and pulled you down onto his lap. Yes, it was sudden, but that didn't mean it was unwelcomed. "I have missed this," he mumbled against your lips, before capturing your lips with his. 

You tangled your hands in his hair as the kiss deepend. Your hands snaked to the top buttons of his shirt as you fiddled with them. Just as you had undone the top few buttons, a loud cry sounded out through the house. 

"For fucks sake," you mumbled, but your small amount of anger was quickly dissipated and replaced by a need to take care of your daughter. You clambered off Max's lap and up the stairs, into Aleta's room. 

"Hey, sweetheart," you softly said to your crying daughter as you scooped her up in your arms. Pressing her to your chest and bouncing back and forth with her. "Shhh," you shushed the infant, hoping she would calm down and you could take her downstairs. 

"You can't be hungry," you sighed, trying to imagine what could be the matter with her. You checked her nappy, but that wasn't the issue. Wandering over to the rocking chair in the corner, you sat down and gently rocked back and forth. 

"I know sweetheart, I know," you soothed, rubbing her back as she slowly quietened down. After around 10 minutes, it seemed like she had calmed down and she had decided that she didn't want to scream the house down.

"Oh Leta you can be a handful," you whispered, placing a tender kiss to the top of her head. She was sprouting some fine, blonde hairs and you could have easily believed she was Max's with her hair and big blue eyes. 

As you rocked back and forth in the chair, you felt your eyelids become droopy and heavy as the weight of Aleta on your chest relaxed you. "I'll just nap for twenty minutes," you mumbled, letting sleep carry you away to a peaceful numbness. 

Max sat downstairs, missing the feeling of his lips on yours and the feeling of your hands running through his hair. The crying had stopped a while ago, so he didn't understand why you hadn't come downstairs yet. 

He figured you were just having a snuggle with her as it was your favourite way to spend time. Max had allowed you a few more minutes, but he wasn't hearing any signs of you coming back. He skipped up the stairs and quietly opened the door.

The only light from the room was the small, warmly coloured light that the lamp next to the rocking chair emitted. The light cast a shadow onto the figure of you, with Aleta snuggled up to your chest as the chair still lightly rocked. 

He couldn't help but smile to himself, the sight of pure perfection itself sitting right in front of him. You looked like something right out of a fairy tale: his queen holding the heir to the throne of their carefully crafted kingdom. 

You and Aleta were everything to him, and he would give up every championship, every podium, every trophy for the pair of you. You were his girls, and you were perfect. 

Checking the time, he realised that it was already half past eight, so he accepted that you were very tired as you had had a long day. "Liefde, come on," he gently shook you awake, careful not to wake up Aleta in the process. 

"Huh?" you sleepily murmured, not fully able to see Max until your eyes had adjusted. Aleta was pulled away from your chest, leaving your skin exposed to the cold of the room. "Max, give her back," you whined, closing your eyes and holding your arms out for her to be put back in. 

"Come on, you're coming to bed," he said as he made sure Aleta was safe and comfortable in her cot. "But I was comfy," you complained to him. You had to stifle a squeal of surprise as Max hoisted you up into his arms and walked you across the hall to the bedroom. 

He dropped you down on the bed, walking over to the wardrobe and plucking out one of his shirts from the hangers. "Can I take this off?" he asked, even though he knew the answer was going to be yes. You nodded, before the entirety of your dress was slipped over your head and thrown to the floor.

The soft t-shirt replaced it, and you wasted no time shuffling under the covers and shifting into a comfortable position. Max was wrapping his arms around you in no time, hands mindlessly trailing up and down your stomach. 

A part of him had been wanting to ask if you were open to a second child with him, maybe in two or so years time. He thought he'd let you get settled in married life combined with parenthood before he sprang that on you. 

He had already asked you two life changing questions when Aleta was born, so he thought he'd hold off for a while. 

—

Today was the big day. The day you had been waiting for your whole life. The day you would marry the man of your dreams. 

It had been exactly a year and three months since Aleta had been born and Max had proposed to you in the hospital. You had created so many memories together, and you hoped to create many more in the years to come. 

For now, it was time to focus on the moment and embrace the space you were in. As you stood at the altar, looking as stunning as ever in your flowing white gown, you gazed around the room to see everyone you loved, all gathered in one place. 

Aleta had done a brilliant job of being flower girl with Max's sister Victoria, and you couldn't help but cry a few happy tears as you watched on from the doors. Once all of your bridesmaids were stood in their places, it was your turn in the spotlight.

Max was stood there, eyes glazed over with tears of joy, looking incredibly handsome in his suit. It was like a light flashed before your eyes and you were there, his hands in yours as the officiary spoke unintelligible words to you. 

The noise was cancelled out by the bubble that entrapped you and Max. The pair of you had been through a lot, and now, you could leave all of that behind and carry on with life, together. Side by side. 

"And now, we will allow these two to share their vows with each other. Max, would you like to start?" Max nodded, and shifted where he stood.

"Y/N, liefde, the love of my life. I would like to take this opportunity to say thank you. Thank you for letting me into your life when you were most vulnerable, and it made a lot more sense to push me away rather than let me in. Thank you for letting me love you, because it is the thing that keeps me going when times get tough," he started, and tears were already forming in your eyes. 

"Finally, thank you for letting me be a father to Aleta, because it is the best thing I will ever get the honour of doing. I am so grateful that I am able to be stood here with you, because I may be a racing driver professionally, but above all of that, I am a husband and a father to the most beautiful girls in the world. It doesn't matter how many trophies I get, because none of them will mean half as much to me as the two of you do."

Now the tears were flowing like salty waterfalls, and you didn't want to go next. "You just had to make it hard for me, didn't you?" you laughed, the audience chuckling along with you. "Max. Being stood here with you today was something I didn't think would ever be possible. I was alone, I was scared, I was struggling. But then, there you were, like a beacon through the darkness that lit up my world,"

It was Max's turn to cry now, and you saw a few tears slip down his rosy cheeks, "You were there for me when nobody else was, and you gave me everything I have ever dreamed of and more. There is no one else that I would want to raise Aleta side by side with, and I will forever be in your debt for that. You are the pot of gold at the end of my rainbows, my sunshine on a rainy day, my everything. I know that, with you, I can do anything and everything," 

There was not a dry eye in the house, and you were finally pronounced husband and wife. He held you as the pair of you skipped down the aisle, the world beneath your feet. 

As you waited behind the doors to the reception room for your introduction as Mr and Mrs Verstappen, Max took your hand. "This is the second best day of my life," he smiled, squeezing your hand lovingly. "And the first?" you asked, but you knew what it was. It was the same for you as well.  

"The day our angel was born," he smirked as the music started and everyone was cheering. You clapped along with them, taking your spot on the dancefloor. 'Can't Take my Eyes off You' by Frankie Valli sounded out through the hall.

He held his hands on your waist as your arms linked around his neck. As you swayed to the song, your friends and family shed a few more tears of happiness at the sight of you, and there was no wiping the ecstatic smile off your face. 

Max had an equally goofy smile plastered on his lips, and he never wanted to let go of you. "Ik hou van je," he lightly laughed, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"I love you too," you smiled against him. Max let you go and spun you around, your dress and hair fanning out all around you. As you were brought back to him, he detached himself from you and quickly dashed over to Victoria, who was holding Aleta. 

He plucked your daughter out of his sister's arms and brought her over to you. He laced his other arm around you as you swayed with Aleta, who was giggling along happily. "I needed both of my girls here," he said, making your heart swell even more - despite the fact that you didn't think that was possible. 

Aleta was looking all pretty in her little pink dress and her blonde hair was pulled into two pigtails on either side of her head. She was making some happy noises as the three of you twirled around the dancefloor. 

You took her off Max, wanting to dance with your daughter. Holding Aleta in one arm, Max spun the pair of you with the other as she let out fits of high pitched giggles. As if life couldn't get any more perfect. 

Max brought you back into his chest, Aleta resting comfortably on your hip. She had been making sounds of squeals and laughs, but then she said something.  Max looked at you for a moment, confirming that he had actually heard what you had. 

You nodded at him wearily, not completely sure. "Dadda," she said, louder this time. 

"I'm not hearing things, am I?" you asked, looking at Max's dumbfounded expression with a stupid happy smile on your face. "I don't think I-"

"Dadda," she repeated, but with a lot more confidence. 

"Oh my god I am so proud of you, my clever girl!" Max exclaimed, pulling the pair of you closer to him and kissing all over her face. She kept on repeating the word, and it sounded better each time. "That's me," Max cried, his voice cracking.

"Yes it is, darling," you responded. For the rest of the night, Aleta was showing off how clever she was to everyone in the reception. As the night drew on, people eventually started retiring to their rooms, and Aleta had gone to bed a few hours ago since it had been a long night for her. 

"You tired?" Max whispered in your ear, lazily slinging an arm around your waist. Less people were dancing, and more people were sitting around, idly sipping at the remnants of their drinks.  "Yeah," you confirmed, resting a tired head on his shoulder. 

"I hope you're not too tired," he smirked, gripping you tighter. 

"I think we could head back to our room early," you mumbled, before making your rounds and saying goodbyes. As soon as you could, the pair of you ran out, hand in hand, skipped up the stairs, and stumbled into your hotel room, unable to keep your hands off each other. 

Now, you officially had forever ahead of you, and you had your favourite people all around you. 

A/N - Do we want a bit more? Because I have more planned...

Tag List! (The wonderful people who commented on the last part <;3) @inkfablesandstories @luckyladycreator2 @rd14 @basicallyherondale @purplephantomwolf @halaxxxx @giffywiffy3408 @hauntingtherosebush @rosalysaoirse @mehrmonga @itsmytimetoodream @aundercover @glow-ish @hc-dutch @jorbridgerton1

|masterlist|

[moonchildstyles]

has Older!Harry ever had to work later than he thought, maybe running into plans he had with pretty girl?

wordcount: 3k+

—————

"What do you think, H?" 

(Y/N) twirled in front of where Harry sat on his couch, showing off the new dress he had pushed her into rewarding herself with (with his credit card, of course) after getting through midterms. He'd seen the photos online, but she wanted him to get a look at the real thing—see if he liked it on her as much as he said he would. 

Looking up from his phone, he gave her a bright smile. "Sweetheart," he crooned, appraising her with an adoring gaze, "Y'look—" 

His phone buzzed in his hand, the disturbance cutting him off as he was forced to glance down at the device. His features posed into something grim with a set line on his jaw and pursed lips. 

"What is it?" (Y/N) asked, fiddling with her nails with her purse hanging from her wrist. He'd been attached to his phone since he'd come over to pick her up, constantly going back and forth between doling out his attention to her before being taken away by his phone. 

He shook his head much like he had done every other time (Y/N) had asked what had been going on. "Jus' something at the office—trying to figure out what happened." 

"Is it bad?" she asked, sinking into the couch next to him in hopes of skimming a glance at his screen. 

"A little, if it is what I think it is," he murmured distractedly, scrolling through a report (Y/N) had no hopes of recognizing. 

Quietly, she watched as he tapped away, aware of the time ticking down towards their reservations. "Do you think you'll be done before we need to leave?" 

Seemingly suddenly realizing the time, he heaved a sigh. "I hope." 

Just as the words left his mouth, an incoming call colored his screen. 

"Hold on," he told her, rising from his seat with his phone in a tight grip, "If 'm not off the phone by the time we need to leave, come and get me, 'kay?" 

As soon as she gave a nod, Harry had his phone pressed to his ear and was heading upstairs towards his office. His voice was rumbling and low, but she could hear the curt tone even from where she sat. She watched as he disappeared up the staircase before pulling her own phone out. She'd give him ten minutes, she decided—it would be cutting it close to the reservation, but she didn't want to stress him out any more than he obviously already was. 

—————

(Y/N)'s lips thinned as she watched the time tick off one more minute.

6:45pm. 

Harry had been tucked away upstairs for the full of the ten minute timer she had set for him. She hoped the problem wasn't as bad as he had feared, but she had a feeling it was that or much worse. He hated being late for any kind of appointment, so she doubted he had just lost track of time while working. 

Rising to her feet, joints popping from being folded up on his couch while she had waited, she started for the stairs. Her heels clicked over his floors, following her up the case and towards his office. Only a few paces away, she could hear him speaking behind the door. None of the words were clear, but it definitely wasn't a good sign to hear him still on the phone.

She quietly knocked on the door, pausing for a moment before pushing it open. Peering around the wood, she found Harry just as she figured she would: sat behind his desk, features pinched and sharp as he stared at his computer screen with his phone pressed to his ear. 

He hadn't even noticed her peeking in, mumbling something to his associate with his eyes reflecting whatever he was scrolling through on his screen. Clearing her throat, (Y/N) finally gained Harry's attention. 

His features quickly softened at the sight of her. 

"H? Are you ready to go?" she peeped, hoping whoever was on the other end of the call couldn't hear her. 

Lips thinning, he murmured an excuse to his call before pulling the phone away from his ear for a moment. With the receiver pressed to his shoulder, eyes speaking apologies before he'd even shared a word.

"Sweetheart," he started, the syllables floating on a sigh, "I can't leave, yet. 'S worse than I thought." 

While she was sympathetic to whatever he was dealing with—Harry never liked to bring work home if he could help it, especially if it was problem based like this—she couldn't help the way her shoulders deflated some. "Will we still be able to make dinner? It's almost six." 

Harry glanced at the time himself then, hesitating meeting her eyes once more. "I don't know, love. 'M so sorry, I really didn't think it was going to be this complicated." 

"It's okay, it's okay," she waved him off, already creeping out of the room, "I'll call and see if they have anything later, but don't worry." 

A sad smile wormed its way onto his lips, molding into the apples of his cheeks though the curl didn't meet his eyes. "Thank you, love." 

After offering her own small smile, (Y/N) slipped out of the room with the door clicking behind her. Taking in a deep breath, she slipped her phone out of her bag before pulling up the restaurant's website. She had a feeling, just with how coveted their original reservation was, that there wouldn't be anything else available but she didn't feel like telling Harry that kind of news at the moment. 

Taking in a sigh, (Y/N) started towards the stairs with her phone pressed to her ear. 

"Thank you for calling Elio, how can I help you?" 

"Hi—um—I have a reservation in thirty minutes, but I was wondering if..." 

—————

After shooting off a text to Harry that there wasn't anything else available fore the night, (Y/N) had resigned herself to a night on the couch. Even when he'd answered with a promise that he would figure something out as soon as he fixed whatever was going on, she hadn't bet on the possibility. 

When it came to things like these—problems outside of his control, unanticipated mistakes—Harry had a hard time letting them go until they were back up to his standards. He wouldn't be able to relax enough to spend the night with her, she knew that. Instead she had only messaged him back that she'd be downstairs for him whenever he was ready with a heart emoji tacked on the end. 

That was how she found herself tucked into the cushions of his couch, shoes kicked off under the coffee table, and a fluffy blanket over her lap with one of her reality TV shows on screen. She wasn't paying much attention to the scenes, the episode one she had already seen, instead poking at her phone for entertainment. 

As the time ticked on, closer and closer to Harry having been stuck working for over an hour, part of her wanted to head upstairs and see if she could pry him away. If he finished soon, they could still at least go out somewhere, keeping her dress and makeup from going to waste. But, she could still hear his rumbling voice at times carrying through the walls—he was still stuck on the phone. She could only imagine the kind of stress he was feeling if he was still stuck on the same problem almost an hour later.

Curled on his couch, (Y/N) almost winced when her stomach growled. She had kept herself from snacking after class, knowing she was going to want to have all the room possible for the immaculate dinner Harry had planned. Now, with the time ticking well past their reservations, she was feeling the consequences of her abstinence. 

Though she wasn't particularly keen on the idea of padding upstairs and asking Harry if he would be okay with some takeaway for the night, there wasn't much else she could do. (Harry had been teaching her as much as he could when it came to the kitchen, but that didn't mean that she was particularly good yet). Especially after she had made the choice to indulge in watching too many sushi videos that popped up on her social media—she doubted she could wait for Harry to finish up before scampering off for dinner.

Moving upstairs, (Y/N) paused outside of Harry's office, her ear keen to the door in hopes of finding a good time to pop in. Though she wasn't encouraged at the stretching silence on the other side, there wasn't much of a better time, she decided when she finally knocked on the door.  A responding grumble came from the other side.

Peeking inside, he didn't look much different than when she had seen him last. Now, his sleeves were rolled to his elbows and his hair mussed, but that pinch between his brows lingered with his jaw in a strong set. He looked tired this time when he glanced up at her, the fan of his lashes becoming a drooping frame around his eyes. 

"Sorry," she started, keeping her voice low at the sight of his phone still pressed to his ear, "Um, I was thinking about ordering dinner, if that's alright with you?" 

He took a moment, pulling his phone from his ear, poking at the mute button before clearing his throat. "Are y'sure? If I finish soon, I can still take y'out," he told her, voice softer than what she was sure he was sharing on the phone. 

"It's almost eight-thirty, H," (Y/N) gently reminded him, resting her head on the doorjamb as she gazed at him, "I'm sure you're hungry, too." 

He seemingly suddenly realized there were other things going on than the emails and clients he was dealing with. He deflated after taking in a deep breath. "Right. 'M sorry, (Y/N), really."

"No, it's okay, don't worry. I under—" 

"Mr. Styles, Dean has the group scheduled for a conference call in the morning, but is—" 

"Michael," Harry said, pulling the phone to his ear with the speaker off and mute unselected, "'M going to have to call you back." 

(Y/N) was taken aback at his sudden suggestion, though she continued listening from where she stood at the threshold. She hoped he wasn't ending the call on her account. 

"Ten minutes, and I'll call y'back. Can y'handle that, or do I need to keep holding your hand?" 

Maybe it was a bit harsh, but (Y/N) had to hold back her laughter with her hand stamped over her mouth. It wasn't like her boyfriend at all to snap at anyone, including his colleagues, but she couldn't Balme him after being corralled in his office for over an hour. The man on the other end—Micheael—must have stood down seeing as Harry hung up the call with nothing else to share. 

Plopping the device face down on his desk, Harry pulled in a sigh before fixing his eyes to (Y/N) once more. "C'mere, pretty girl." 

His open arms were an offer as she padded across his office. He collected her against his chest once she had rounded his desk, pulling her as close as he could with her folded in his lap. 

"'M sorry," he murmured, voice low in her ear as she settled her chin on his shoulder with her arms looped around his middle, "I didn't mean to ruin the night, sweetheart." 

"It's not your fault," she reminded him, "And nothing is ruined. Sometimes things like this happen. I'm not mad." 

He pulsed his arms around her, tightening his hug with a kiss pressed to the side of her head. "You're too good to me, love. Thank you." 

Drawing away, (Y/N) shifted until she had his cheeks cradled in her hands. Thumbing at his cheekbones, she attempted to draw a smile out of his solemn features when she squished his cheeks with his lips forced into a puffy pout. Her responding laughter was enough to have him straining against her hands with his own attempting smile. 

"You know I'm never upset to stay home," she told him, leaning forward to peck a kiss to his puckered lips, "It's okay, H." 

"Promise?" he mushed out, words muffled against her squish. 

"Promise," she resounded, giving him another kiss before releasing his cheeks, "I think I'm going to order Chinese, so just come down whenever you're done and it'll be waiting." 

His arms were a cradle around her, one that kept her locked on his lap as he pressed forward and gave her a lingering kiss. "I love you, you know that?" 

"I do," she answered, smiling into his kiss, "I love you, too." 

Though he opened his mouth, prepping to say more, his phone began to buzz on his desk once more. (Y/N) could feel the way he deflated in response, hesitant to answer the call. 

Untangling herself from his lap, she gave him a soft smile. "Finish whatever you need to do, okay? I'll be downstairs whenever you're done." 

His apology was clear on his face without a single word having to be shared. "I'll be fast," he vowed. 

"I know." 

With that, Harry pressed the phone to his ear with a sharp greeting while (Y/N) scurried out of his office. Though she was still tired and hungry, she felt better after getting a chance to talk to him. She doubted he would finish up as fast as he wanted, but she hoped he understood there was no pressure to be felt on her end. 

Chinese food kept perfectly well, anyway.

—————

"Goodnight, Micheal. Have a nice weekend." 

Harry didn't wait for a send off on the other end, hanging up on his coworker as soon as the words left his mouth. He'd heard enough of Micheal's voice to last a lifetime, especially after finding out that this entire mixup was nothing more than a paperwork error he hadn't properly checked the first time. Nonetheless, Harry was just happy to no longer be glued to his phone with his laptop lid shut for the foreseeable future. 

He dreaded to look at the time on his phone, but knew he had no choice. 

10:16pm. 

Sighing at the sight, he pocketed his phone with his joints cracking as he stood from his chair. (Y/N) had been quiet for a while now, no more padding around coming from the floor below for the better part of the last half hour. 

She had been so understanding, letting him disappear and forcing them to cancel their dinner plans only for her to give soft condolences and sweet kisses in response. He hoped she hadn't fallen asleep before he could make it up to her as much as he could. 

Making his way downstairs, the streaming service she had pulled up on his television was paused on one of her favorite shows, the program asking if she was still watching. The coffee table was set up with Chinese takeaway containers, everything clean and sectioned away with his own servings still packaged and warm. He knew what he would find when he peered over the back of the couch, but he still felt a bit of guilt when he saw her wrapped up in a too-small throw blanket on her body and a too-stiff decorative pillow under her head. 

Her hair was clean of every pin she'd used to style it, her dress replaced with comfortable pajamas, and face clean and shining in the low light. She was asleep, her breath coming in small puffs with each line and plane of her features left relaxed. 

He didn't even tell her goodnight. 

Petting his hand over her temple to push stray baby hairs out of her face, he allowed his fingertips to linger over her skin. The warmth of her was enough to thaw the strain he hadn't realized he was still carrying in his muscles. 

This would never get old, he decided. The evidence of her around his home was enough to get his heart kicking against his ribs, but to find her on his couch after a long night was something he hadn't realized he craved until he met her. Though he would prefer to have had more time with her, the stress of the night seemed worth it when he came downstairs to see this. 

If not for the fact he was just as hungry as (Y/N) had guessed by the amount of containers she left out for him, he would have tucked in beside her and slept off the stress. Instead, he settled for kicking off his shoes and heading for the linen closet for a warmer blanket to spread across her form. 

With (Y/N) snuggled under the fleece, he settled himself on the floor beside her. Though it wasn't a show he enjoyed watching without her commentary, Harry still pressed play on the episode she had left off on. He kept the volume low, reaching for the chopsticks that had come with the delivery. 

Twirling a bite of lo mein on the sticks, Harry hesitated before that first bite despite his gnawing stomach. Maybe it was the fact he couldn't get her soft face out of his head the last time she'd come to his office, or the way she had arranged all of his favorites out for him to pick through by the time he came downstairs, but it didn't feel right to have his dinner without her. 

There was no way he was going to wake her up, but that didn't stop him from reaching for the hand she had sticking out from under the blanket. Though it wasn't a particularly comfortable angle, he laced his fingers between hers. His chest warmed when she seemingly recognized his touch, reciprocating his hold as best she could in her sleep before snuggling the back of his hand to her cheek. 

Despite the cooling food in front of him, Harry let his eyes linger on the peaceful set of her features and the way she clung to his hand. A small smile thumbed a dimple into his cheek. 

He'd still be making it up to her tomorrow, but tonight hadn't turned out too bad. 

—————

thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any ideas you want to share please send them in!!! if you want to read more you can check out my patreon:)

[wileys-russo]

Loved the Grace fic. Wondering if you could maybe do one where she has a secret girlfriend that doesn’t play football. And the team are trying to set her up not realizing that she has a girlfriend and then at one of her matches grace runs up to reader and that’s how the team finds out.

Something like that x

you never asked II g.clinton

"gracie just one date mate! you'll love her." millie slung an arm over the younger girls shoulder who rolled her eyes and shrugged her off. "just one?" grace squinted as the sun rose a little higher and the two arrived to the pitch for training.

"yes! just one." millie assured as the midfielder sighed. "alright, fine." grace shrugged as millies face lit up. "really?" the defender beamed.

"no ya idiot, i'll tell you the same thing i tell everyone. i don't need help findin a girlfriend!" grace rolled her eyes, saved by the whistle blowing signally training was about to start.

that didn't stop a barrage of the girls all trying to sweet talk her into meeting their 'friend' that grace would 'get on with like a house on fire' because she 'had soo much in common with them its like fate'.

she'd heard it all for weeks now, dismissing every little attempt with a firm shake of her head, abandoning conversation after conversation as suddenly they'd go from something she was engaged in to a topic she ran from.

thankfully some of the older girls stuck up for her and tried to shoo away the main culprits like millie, ella and maya who were constantly trying to set her up or ship her off with a new stranger every second day or so.

little did they all know, grace didn't need to be set up with anyone or accept any sort of dating help because she had you.

you looked up from your laptop at the familiar secret knock on your front door, snapping it shut with a grin and racing over. knocking the same pattern back you heard the girls laugh on the other side of the door before you swung it open.

"well hello gorgeous." grace beamed, launching herself at you in a hug as you let out a laugh, your feet lifting off the ground as the footballer spun you around.

"longest four and a half days ever." grace groaned, collapsing into you as she placed you back down and you shared a tight hug. "i'll be sure to pass that onto my boss, no more business trips because my girlfriend can't handle me being away." you teased, craning your head up to kiss her cheek.

"what! ya been away nearly five days and thats all i get babe?" grace scoffed in disbelief as you ventured back into the living room. "i'm sure you kissed your phone screen enough on facetime to make up for it baby." you grinned, having called her at least twice a day every day you were gone.

"yeah but me phone doesn't kiss back!" grace snatched your laptop out of hand, placing it down on the coffee table and flopping on top of you. "alright clinton, lay one on me then!" you sighed as if accepting a poor business deal as your girlfriend shook her head.

but deciding against a smart comment back like she normally would the taller girl wasted not another second, pressing her lips against yours as you exhaled softly into her mouth, the corner of which curled into a smile.

"missed you so much babe." grace mumbled into the kiss, one hand moving to the back of your neck as your tongues fought one another to take control. eventually you relinquished, your girlfriend taking advantage and exploring your mouth like it was the very first time.

"okay okay! no jumping me the first five minutes you're here." you pulled back with a grin as her hand crept up your top, squeezing at your chest.

"alright...i'll wait till its been ten minutes then like a gentlewoman would babe."

~

"grace come on man! one date, you're always so stubborn. you think the worst of every girl we offer before you even meet them! just give us a chance to set you up with someone." ella groaned, dropping down beside the brunette who rolled her eyes, focused on lacing up her boots.

"answer hasn't changed tooney."

"gracie man please let me wingwoman ya!" ella begged, clasping her hands together as grace wordlessly shot her a firm look and shook her head.

"ella for god sakes leave the poor girl alone! youse are always harrassin her." thankfully mary swooped in to the rescue, ushering the mancunian away despite her protests.

you watched on in the stands of old trafford with grace's sister and a couple of your friends, a proud smile slapped to your face and unable to be wiped away despite the teasing from them all. sending your girlfriend a message at half time affirming just how well she'd played you tucked your phone back away as your girlfriend again waved as she entered back onto the pitch.

the little waves and cheeky grins sent your way weren't anything new however that didn't mean any of graces team mates had actually caught on, neither of you were particularly large fans of overtly public displays of affection either.

grace's time to really shine came in the second half when she bagged an assist and a goal, of course finding you in the crowd with a pearly white grin and another eager wave making you laugh and wiggle your fingers back at her.

the devils winning three to nil as the final whistle blew and the crowd erupted into cheers, your heart could burst with pride as you chatted with your friends and her sister, catching grace's eye mid lap who gestured for you to come down.

"lover girl has sent her summons!" your friends teased pinching at your cheeks as you rolled your eyes and swatted their hands away, all four of you making your way down to the barriers.

you hung back allowing the younger fans to all meet their idols, smiling at the excited squeals and cheers from them as your girlfriend and her team all made their rounds signing, high fiving and posing for pictures.

eventually you caught grace's eye again, lips curling into a smile as hers turned downward into a slight pout at how far away you still were. the crowd thinning a little you made your way to the front of the barrier, grace hugging her sister and friends.

"hi superstar." you smiled as it was finally your turn, melting into her embrace. "sweaty superstar." you teased as her skin stuck to yours, flinching away as she pinched your side for the jab.

"goal scorin superstar babe." grace grinned smugly as you hummed, her hands still firmly on your hips. "can the goal scorer get a kiss?" your girlfriend murmured, cocky smile dropping for a moment as her eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation of discomfort.

but you didn't give her a chance to find any as you nodded, leaning in and pressing your lips to hers sweetly, hands cupping her face as you pulled away and let out a small laugh at the way her cheeks flushed rosy pink.

"blusher." you teased, kissing her cheek as she scoffed. "just from all the runnin round, don't flatter yourself!" grace rolled her eyes playfully,hugging you tightly from behind as you turned to lean against the barrier, her chin resting on your shoulder as she chatted away to her sister and friends.

"yeah i'll make sure she gets home safe." grace promised as your friends bid their farewell, her sister picked up by her own friends as you waved them all off, most of the crowd having dispersed.

"you really played so great gracie, i'm so proud of you." you smiled sincerely turning back around to face her, pecking her lips a few times with a smile.

"we've got an audience." you murmured, catching their wandering eyes over her shoulder. "fancy a tour of the change rooms?" grace grinned, wiggling her eyebrows and grabbing your waist hoisting you up and over the barrier.

"don't let the scare ya, bunch of big teddy bears the lot of em." grace promised, arm falling over your shoulder as she lead you toward the small group of girls looking on curiously, shrinking a little under their gaze.

"afternoon girls." grace smiled, squeezing you reassuringly. "whose this then gracie?" mary grinned with a raised eyebrow. "me girlfriend." grace smiled, kissing your cheek and introducing you properly.

"girlfriend!" one of the shorter girls jaw dropped, all four of them looking quite stunned as you pushed yourself a little tighter into grace's side as her arm dropped and her hand rested protectively on the small of your back.

"but-but-all the dates!" the same girl stammered out, another one rolling her eyes and smacking her. "dates?" you asked with a small frown, glancing up at your girlfriend.

"these three idiots have been trying to set us up on a blind date for weeks now. told ya i didn't need any helping finding a girlfriend!" grace chuckled, introducing the four girls in front of you.

"why the hell didn't ya just tell us!" ella, the same girl from earlier, shot the tall girl beside you a glare as grace grinned and gently pushed you to start walking with her.

"cause ya never asked tooney!" your girlfriend called over her shoulder, pulling you tighter into her side and ignoring the protests shouted behind her.

"you're a menace clinton, you couldn't just tell them?" you shook your head with a smile as she lead you off the pitch and down the tunnel.

"but baby, where's the fun in that?"