#buy stream promote

[shellbells-things]

Ya’ll. YA’LL! I am in shock right now. Honestly. I was so worried that Jimin would not be promoted as he deserved. Let’s be real…he often gets screwed. So for the company to come out so strong? I’m just beyond thrilled. I am sure that our Jimin marched right down the hall to the promotion folks and said, “LISTEN. Let’s all do our best, yeah?!” I’m so excited for Jimin and for US because we are going to get a full up roll out of Jimin Perfection.

[lovvelorrn]

one thing i will say about the taylor-tickets situation is that fans saying they were 'cheated out of tickets to see her' piss me off. what gives you the right to see her over other people? that's the most american shit ever i swear to fucking god. international fans get jack shit and we always are the forgotten ones so i'm sorry if this was a horrible experiece for you (i really am!!) but maybe grow a higher tolerance to frustration next time, no?

[zooophagous]

So why do you hate the advertising industry?

Hokay so.

Let me preface this with some personal history. It's not relevant to the sins of the advertising industry perse but it illustrates how I started to grow to hate it.

I wanted to be a veterinarian growing up, but to be a vet you basically have to be good enough to get into medical school. I do not have the math chops or discipline to make it in medical school. I went into art instead, and in a desperate attempt to find some commercial viability that didn't involve moving to California, I went into graphic design.

I've been a graphic designer for about seven or eight years now and I've worn a lot of hats. One of them was working in a print shop. Now, the print shop had a lot of corporate customers who had various ad campaigns. One of them was Gate City Bank, which had a bigass stack of postcards ordered every couple months to mail to their customers.

Now, paper comes from Dakota Paper, and they make their paper the usual way. Somewhere far, far from our treeless plain there is a forest of tall trees. These trees are cut down and put on big fossil fuel burning trucks and hauled to a paper mill that turns them into pulp while spewing the most fowl odors imaginable over the neighboring town and loads the pulp up with bleach to give it a nice white color.

Then the paper is put on yet another big truck and hauled off to the local paper depot, then put on another big truck and delivered to my print shop, where I turned the paper into postcards telling people to go even deeper into debt to buy a boat because it's almost summer. The inks used are a type of nasty heat sensitive plastic that is melted to the surface of the paper with heat. Then the postcards are put on yet ANOTHER truck and sent to the bank, which puts them on ANOTHER truck and finally into the hands of their customers, who open their mail and take one look at the post card and immediately discard it.

Heaps and heaps and literal hundreds of pounds of literal garbage created at the whim of the marketing team several times a year. And thats just one bank in one city.

I came to realize very quickly that graphic design was the delicate art of turning trees into junk mail.

And wouldn't you know it there are a TON of companies that basically only do junk mail. Many of them operate under the guise of a "charity," sending you pictures of suffering children or animals and begging for handouts and when they get those handouts the executives take a nice fat cut, give some small token amount to whatever cause they pay lip service to, and then put the rest of the cash right back into making more mailers. "Direct mail marketing" they call it.

Oh but maybe it's not so bad, you can advertise online after all. Now that there's decent ad blocker out there and better anti-virus ads usually don't destroy your computer anymore just by existing.

Except now when I search for the exact business I want on Google it's buried under three or four different "promoted search items" tricking me into clicking on them only to shoot themselves in the foot because I searched for the specific result I wanted for a reason and couldn't use those other websites even if I felt like it.

And now we have advertising on YouTube and on every streaming service, forcing more and more eyes onto the ad for the brand new Buick Envision that parks itself because you're too stupid to do it on your own.

Oh thats ok maybe I'll get Spotify premium and go ad free and listen to some podcasts- SIKE we have the hosts of your show doing the song and dance now. Are you depressed and paranoid from listening to my true crime podcast about murdered and mutilated teenagers? That's ok, my sponsor Better Help can keep you sane enough to stay alive and spend more money.

It's gotten so terrible that now you have content farms, huge hubs of shell companies that crank out video after video to get more and more precious clicks. Which if the videos were innocuous maybe that wouldn't be so awful except now you have cooking hacks that can actually burn your house down and craft hacks that can electrocute you being flung into your eyes at the speed of mach fuck so some slimy internet clickbait jockey doesn't need to get a real job.

It of course goes without saying that animals are also relentlessly exploited by clickbait companies that will put them in compromising situations on purpose to create a fake fishing hack video or even just straight up killing them for sport by feeding small animals to a pufferfish that rips them apart for the camera.

And all of this, ALL of this doesn't even touch how adveritising is the death of art in general. Queer topics, any kind of interesting art, any kind of sex or substance use topics are scrubbed clean and hidden at the behest of advertisers.

Sex education, a nude statue, topics such as racism or sexism or bigotry in general have tags purged or hidden from search, even life saving information about SDTs or drug use, because if someone saw that and complained then Verizon might sell fewer tablets and we can't fucking have that.

Conservative talking heads often bitch and moan that they're being censored on social media. The stupid part is, they're right! They are being censored! But it's not by a woke mob, it's by ATT and Coca Cola not wanting their adspace sharing screen time with their stupid fucking opinions.

However, they won't ever figure that out, because the talking heads they get their marching orders from like Tucker and Jones ALSO rely on the sweet milk flowing from the sponsorship teat and they aren't about to turn on their meal ticket so they have to come up with even stupider shit to say for the train to continue rolling.

I managed to rant this far without even getting into the ads I see for the beauty industry. The other day a botox ad described wrinkles as "moderate to severe crows feet" as if wrinkles are a symptom of a fucking serious disease! Like having a flaw in your skin is a medical problem that you need thousands of dollars of literal botulism toxin to fix! I was incandescent with anger.

Advertising is a polluting, censoring, anti educational and anti art industry at it's very core. It destroys human connections, suppresses human thought and makes us hate our own bodies. It ads no value, actively detracts from value, and serves no real purpose and I believe it should be almost if not entirely banned.

[faithinlouisfuture]

can you please spread this information to your followers?

https://twitter.com/louiestream/status/1687521804464640013?s=46

this is definitely not the most reliable UA so I’d say everyone do their research themselves but here’s a screenshot of the tweet

also linking this tweet here in case anyone needs this info, and in case anyone wants to follow a more reliable UA/ promo account

[cosmicpuzzle]

Jupiter🌸Transit in Sidereal Taurus

May 1, 2024 - May 14, 2025

Aries Rising, Jupiter in 2nd house: This will be a great year for your finances and wealth. You will have increased income at your disposal. You may also spend a lot due to extra funds available. You may buy something of a high value. You could even purchase a home using loan as Jupiter aspects 6th house. Loans will be granted to you at this time. Your health would improve although you may gain some calories due to increase in food intake. You may get a new job with a better pay. You may also have an addition to your family. If you are a woman, you could conceive or have birth of child. Relations with family members will be warm during this time.

Taurus Rising, Jupiter in 1st house: This is a year of new beginnings for you. You may start something new in your life. You may join a college or a new job or a new relationship. Something about your life will be new this year. Physically you will feel confident and may gain weight too. This is a year you will feel confident but be cautious not to be over optimistic. New opportunities can come in your life. Things can progress without much effort. You may have success in relationships and love as Jupiter aspects both 5th and 7th house simultaneously. There may be possibilities of long-distance travel as Jupiter aspects 9th house.

Gemini Rising, Jupiter in 12th House: This is an introspective time ahead for you. You may have foreign travels on account of work. You may meet someone for a relationship through online or at a foreign location. There may be foreign travels for your spouse. You may make long term investments now. You may decide to invest in property as Jupiter aspects 4th house. You may relocate to a foreign country with your family. There may be birth of children abroad. There may be expenses on good account. You may have good restful sleep in this period. Your work may be draining, or you may take a sabbatical now. You may do remote or online work now. You may take a long vacation too.

Cancer Rising, Jupiter in 11th House: This will be a great year for you in terms of success, gains, wealth and profits. You may get a promotion, or you may have an additional stream of income. Jupiter will bring new financial opportunities for you. You may make new friends now. You will have opportunities to conceive if you are a woman as Jupiter aspects 5th house. If you are a man too, spouse may get a child as 11th house is 5th to spouse. If you are single, you may get opportunities to date as Jupiter aspects 3rd, 5th and 7th houses simultaneously. Relations with elder siblings will be on good terms. They may have good news in their own life (marriage, birth of child, promotion etc.). If you are in relationship and looking to get married, this will be the right time.

Leo Rising, Jupiter in 10th House: This will be a year for advancement in career and job. If your job has been troublesome or stagnant for some time, it is time to apply for new employers as Jupiter aspects 6th house too from 10th house. You will get a satisfying work profile. Your career status will rise automatically. If you are self-employed, you will take on much bigger projects than before. Sales will increase on it's own without much effort from your side. You will quote a bigger value for your projects and hence your bank balance is bound to increase. You will have good relations with bosses and superiors at work. You may buy a property or car as Jupiter aspects 2nd and 4th house simultaneously.

Virgo Rising, Jupiter in 9th House: This will be a year for long distance travel. If you wish to start higher studies this will be the right time. You will be granted visas easily to foreign countries. You will have good relations with your father and spouse's relatives. Physically you may gain some weight with Jupiter aspecting 1st house. If you are a spiritual person this transit will increase your perception and understanding. You may go on pilgrimages or spiritual retreats. You may get a Guru or teacher if you have been searching for one. This will be a good year to start writing or publish a book if you have saved them up in drafts as Jupiter aspects 3rd house. You may have both short and long-distance travels.

Libra Rising, Jupiter in 8th House: This will be a year of deep transformation and rejuvenation for you. You will have metaphysical experiences. You may develop interest in occult subjects. Your intuition will be on the rise, and you may understand things on a deeper level. You will have more shared resources and thus you may invest a significant amount. Jupiter will increase both yours and spouse's income. You may have good relations with in laws and spouse's family. There may be some inheritances or tax refunds coming your way. If someone owes you money, they may return it unexpectedly. If you are working for someone, you may become more hidden and silent at work. You may have great sex this year in abundance as 8th house is your sexual life. You may have sex at a foreign location or with a foreigner if you travel abroad.

Scorpio Rising, Jupiter in 7th House: This is a great year for your relationships. If you are single, you will find someone definitely. If you are already committed, you will enjoy the relationship a lot. Your spouse or partner may have a great time, and this will pass on to you. You are bound to gain some weight as Jupiter aspects 1st house. You will increase your contacts as Jupiter aspects both 3rd and 11th houses. Relations with younger or elder siblings will be good. You may also get pregnant if you are planning for a baby because Jupiter in 7th house increases the chances of conception. If you have grown up children, they might get married or travel to foreign countries. If you have any legal cases, they will be settled amicably.

Sagittarius Rising, Jupiter in 6th House: This is a year to change your work or job. You can get a new workplace as Jupiter aspects 10th house. You may get new job opportunities with increase in pay. Physically your health will be good although there may be chances of weight gain. You may join a fitness programme or a gym. Your relations with coworkers will be good. You may get bonus or incentives if you are in sales. If you are self-employed, you may get more clients who pay you much higher than what you get usually. You may get tipped more. You may get help through banks and financial institutions who may grant you loans and credits. If you are looking for onsite opportunities at work, you may get as Jupiter aspects 12th house. Your expenses may rise too due to increased credit available.

Capricorn Rising, Jupiter in 5th House: This is a year where you will find lot of opportunities for love, romance and dating. If you are single, you will enter into a relationship. You may meet someone at college or at a place of education as Jupiter aspects 9th house. This is a also a good time for learning and you may join school again. If you are old enough to have children, you may conceive now and get a baby. If you have children already, you will love them and dote on them. You may have lot of fun this year as 5th house is house of fun and recreation. If you are an artist, your creative spark will come out. This is a good time to write as Jupiter is 3rd lord in 5th house. As Jupiter aspects 9th house, you may get foreign travels, or you may find luck with foreigners. You may date someone online as Jupiter is 12th lord transiting 5th house. Jupiter can expand your waistline in 5th house- so control your indulgences.

Aquarius Rising, Jupiter in 4th House: This will be a great year for happiness and contentment at home. You may get that property which you have been searching for long as Jupiter is 2nd lord transiting in 4th house. You may put down your roots now and settle especially if you are in late 50's. If you are in mid 30's you may relocate to another country and settle down. If you are looking to expand family, you may have an addition to your family. Someone could come to your home and stay with you. Your relationship with extended family and relatives will be good. You may redesign your home or buy new furniture or a car too. You may get inheritances or tax refunds as Jupiter aspects 8th house. There may be family vacations too as Jupiter aspects 12th house from 4th house. If you have your mother around, she may have a good time personally.

Pisces Rising, Jupiter in 3rd House: This is a year to develop your skills and bring your creative side out. Jupiter will grant success in your education, school or college or in any academic endeavor you are involved as it aspects 9th house from 3rd house. If you are writing thesis, it would be accepted. if you are working under a team, your team mates would be helpful. There may be opportunities for relationship as Jupiter aspects 7th house. These may arise as a result of short travel. Jupiter in 3rd is a good time as you make new efforts. You may have success with sales, business, marketing and advertising efforts. If you are a business owner, you may sign new agreements and contracts. You can have lot of short travel. There may be change in employment or an internal transfer or change of city due to job location as 10th lord is transiting 3rd house.

Above interpretation must be applied after looking at Jupiter's Ashtakvarga score, placement of Venus in your chart and running Vimshottari Dasha/Bhukti.

If you are following tropical, then apply the results as to where Gemini is falling in your chart. So, if you are Aries rising, check for Jupiter in 3rd house results under Pisces rising.

For Transit and Other Readings DM

[reverie-starlight]

{PR DAY ~ sakusa kiyoomi}

MSBY manager!reader my beloved <3

it’s PR Day for the jackals and you, their manager, have the day off. so why is your boyfriend trying so hard to convince you to go with him?

gn!reader, fluff, an attempt at humor, atsumu slander (as much as it pains me, it comes with the territory of writing a fic like this 😔) suggestive in some parts. not nsfw at all, but explicit language is used and one conversation surrounds that topic, so read at your own risk <3 also, intentional tense-switch in the beginning!!! and just like the first part, it’s not explicitly mentioned, but reader and atsumu have known each other since high school.

part 1 of the mini-series

managing MSBY came with its ups and downs.

on one hand, you wouldn’t have met your boyfriend if it weren’t for this job. and you've never laughed as hard as you have been these past three years with coworkers before meeting the current core line up of the jackals.

but on the other? you had three massive fully grown children under your care. four, technically, if they managed to annoy sakusa enough that he stoops to their level of childishness.

which was unfortunately very often.

…

nearly every week.

…

fine, basically everyday.

and ever since your relationship was revealed to the team nearly a year ago, the “trouble trio” had been behaving exactly like you expected them to. the whole team was slightly insufferable about it, sure, but atsumu, hinata and bokuto really took it too the next level.

so obviously you really valued your days off.

and today was the first day off you’ve had in months. you refused to take off days during the busiest weeks of the season, but today was a PR day.

interviews, promotional videos for the official social media accounts, a livestream or two- all things you were more than happy to leave in the hands of the team’s PR and social media managers.

the birds were singing, the sunlight was streaming through the bedroom window and a cool breeze could be felt against your skin. the day was calm and you were so excited to relax and do all the things you had planned.

but of course, your hopes are just that.

you see your boyfriend standing in the doorway of your bedroom, looking like he wants to say something. your heart lurches into your throat.

“soooo,” he starts, not looking directly at you as he moves to the bed and looks at his laid out clothes. you’re already shaking your head before he can say anything else. he ignores this and proceeds to betray you. “if you wanted to tag along today, you could or whatever.”

he’s shameless. he knows how much you’ve been looking forward to today.

“kiyoomi. love of my life. my darling. what the fuck?”

he lets out a snort and looks down at you semi-pleadingly- a rare sight. “I’ll buy you coffee on the way there.”

oh, he’s bargaining? you smirk. “aww, baby,” you stand up and make your way over to him, dramatically twirling and falling back into him with the back of your hand touching your forehead and the other pressed to your chest. “you just can’t bear to be apart from me, can you?”

the pleading look in his eye fades and he gives you a disgusted look you know he doesn’t mean. his arms stay wrapped around you so you don’t fall. “you wish.”

you shrug and move back to your chair, finishing up your morning routine. “hmm I guess I’ll stay here then.”

you enjoy the silence for a moment before he sighs. “fine, two coffees.”

a loud laugh leaves your mouth when he says that. your boyfriend would never put this performance on for anyone else. it was as close to begging as you’d ever get from sakusa kiyoomi.

you shake your head and sigh. “my love, you know I’ve been looking forward to my day off for so long. why are you so insistent about me going with you?”

suddenly he’s behind your chair and leaning down so his breath tickles your ear. “coffee and lunch and maybe when we get back I could be convinced to try that thing you were talking about…” the words are backed up by a kiss to your jaw and some pointed eye contact through the mirror.

you widen your eyes and search his expression for any trace of a lie.

none.

you cannot believe you’re letting him convince you into this, but the offer is far too good to pass up.

you pretend to mull it over, then meet his eyes in the mirror again. “make sure the trouble trio don’t try to coerce me into working and we have a deal.”

“well of course, I was going to yell at them if they tried anything like that anyway.”

“perfect, then let’s seal it with a kiss.”

“only a kiss, baby, I feel your hands wandering.” he pecks your lips quickly and pulls away before you can deepen it.

you pout. “can you blame me? you’ve got me all excited now.”

he shakes his head fondly and straightens up, moving to put the shirt his stylist had insisted upon for the upcoming interviews. you had to hand it to her- she knew exactly what she was doing.

you watch him with hawk eyes and he just turns his head to look at you in amusement. “stop staring at me and get ready, you perv, we have to leave soon.”

as soon as you step into the building where all the other jackals are, you’re bombarded with confused greetings.

“hey, I thought it was your day off?”

“ayy, manager’s here! good to see ya.”

“what are you doing here? you weren’t scheduled for today, were you?”

you sigh and sip your coffee, letting go of sakusa’s hand as you speak to the coach. “no, I wasn’t. I was kidnapped and brought here by one of your wing spikers.”

he chuckles and glances over at your boyfriend, who is looking up at the ceiling and avoiding eye contact. “I see. well, if anyone tries to get you to work today, just let me know and I’ll help sakusa put them in their places.”

you smile kindly. “thank you, sir, I appreciate it.”

as soon as he walks away, you’re surrounded by the three people you wanted to see least today.

a long sigh leaves your lips as atsumu, hinata and bokuto stare at you in wonder.

“just get it over with,” you grumble.

“how much do ya wanna bet he promised something outrageous?” atsumu.

“what, like an all expenses paid vacation?” hinata.

“no, it’s omi-omi, it wouldn’t make sense for him to take time off in the middle of game season.”

you roll your eyes at their back and forth and glance over at the man in question, who appears to be glowering. you can almost picture the scowl underneath his mask. “you’re all idiots,” he states.

“hey! I haven’t even said anything yet!” bokuto protests.

“yes, but I can practically hear the gears in your brain grinding.”

“I’ll bet it’s a sex thing,” atsumu interrupts just as bokuto is about to defend himself.

you all freeze and stare at him.

your boyfriend, deadly calm, says “miya, I will skin you alive.”

the blonde, who absolutely loves getting a rise out of sakusa, just smirks. “oh, so I’m right then?” he turns to you and slings an arm over your shoulder. “tell me, dear manager, what exactly did he have to agree to in order to get ya to show up on your day off?”

you flick his forehead and shake your head disapprovingly. “none of your business, you freak. just 'cause your dating life isn’t going too well right now doesn’t mean you can pry into mine. download tinder or something if you’re that bored.”

bokuto and hinata snicker at that, but straighten up quickly when he shoots them a glare. suddenly, meian stalks up behind the three of them and clears his throat.

“if you’re all done terrorizing our manager, our social media team is ready for us now. hurry up.” he nods at you with an apologetic smile and drags atsumu away from you. “sakusa, you too. we’ve been waiting for a while now.”

as soon as his teammates walk away and he’s sure they’re not watching him, he slumps a bit and you notice the tips of his ears have gone red. you smile at him in amusement and pat his cheek, the action only slightly awkward due to his mask.

“aw lighten up, kiyoomi, I’m used to dealing with atsumu by now. just ignore him, he wouldn’t dream of bringing that up again if he knows what’s good for him.”

he sighs and drops his shoulders, relief washing over him now that he knows you’re not regretting your decision to come with him. he slips off his mask and presses a quick kiss to your lips. “alright. I love you, just enjoy the show.”

you take his mask and walk with him to the rest of the group so that they can start with the promotional videos.

it’s fun to watch, honestly, because the team’s dynamic does work well for the cameras. they’re not even playing anything up.

you sit through the promo videos they need to film for upcoming games, the silly one-off fluff questions and the fan asks for their instagram page before they’re allowed a break.

sakusa stalks over to you with a small scowl and you smile. “you’re doing great, handsome.”

his expression softens a bit and he offers you a kiss on the forehead. “thank you, darling. care for some lunch?”

you nod and pull him out the door before a certain trio can invite themselves to the impromptu lunch date.

you walk in comfortable silence towards the building’s food court before something pops into your mind. “kiyoomi, you never answered my question from earlier.”

he hums in acknowledgment. “and what might that be?”

“why were you so insistent on me joining you today?”

he doesn’t answer for a moment, but you wait patiently. you know he’s not ignoring you.

finally he sighs and squeezes your hand. “I feel like we haven’t been spending much time together lately outside of work… and I was hoping that by bringing you with me today we’d be able to have at least some time together…” his voice is low, but he’s not shy about it.

you fiddle with the chain around your neck, one he bought for you a while back. "that's very sweet of you, kiyo."

"and..." he hesitates a bit, but you squeeze his hand in return to encourage him. "I feel more relaxed in front of the cameras when you're there."

you melt a little bit. "I'm happy I make you feel that way, kiyoomi. thank you for kidnapping me on my day off, I suppose."

he snorts and you smile. you're about to lean in to pull his mask down for a kiss, but you're interrupted. of course.

"hey, hey, hey! there you guys are! we saw you leaving so figured we'd get lunch with you!"

you honestly don't think you could ever be mad at bokuto, but he is seriously testing your patience right now. not far behind him are atsumu and hinata, one looking smug and the other a bit sheepish. one of them probably brought up your departure to bokuto, either on purpose or accidentally you'd never know.

you sigh and pat sakusa on the back. "yeah, come on. you're all paying for your own, though."

you both ignore the whines of the fully grown children behind you and continue walking hand in hand.

~~~~

BONUS:

"so this question is directed at sakusa..." atsumu reads the question silently and the team watches as he holds back a laugh.

you watch as your boyfriend narrows his eyes at the blonde in front of him and you sigh. things had been going so well up until now.

it’s past lunch break now, and their social media manager had just given them a box full of printed out tweets with fan questions to answer. she snickers to herself as if she knows which question it is and looks pointedly at you from behind the phone she’s recording on.

you blink in confusion, but everything is made clear when atsumu opens his mouth again.

“omi-omi, user @/kiyosdear wants to know if you’re single, or if you’re in need of a dog, because they’re more than willing to bark.”

the social media manager giggles, as does the rest of the team. you feel your eye twitch a bit, but you’re easily able to shove down any possession you feel in the moment.

it’s obviously impossible to ignore so many people vying for his attention all the time, but sometimes it could be a little funny to see how flustered your boyfriend could become from the unwanted attention.

you smile at the small scowl that forms. “no thank you. I’d want nothing less.”

atsumu snorts at his curt answer and hands the box to him. sakusa picks out a question and reads it to himself before blushing furiously and turning his face away from the camera. you watch curiously as meian looks over his shoulder to see what could have garnered that reaction from him and his eyes trail to you amusedly.

the social media manager looks like she’s having a field day, zooming in on sakusa’s red face for a moment. it’s not often something flusters him that badly after all. she’ll milk it for all it’s worth.

the captain pries the paper out of your boyfriend’s hand and reads it out loud.

“@/msby_luvr asks, yo @/sakusakiyoomi, is your team's manager single? totally unrelated, @/msbymanager, are you free on thursday?"”

it’s not exactly a secret to the public that there’s something going on between you two, they just don’t know what that something is.

of course neither of you ever confirm or deny anything, but you imagine being asked outright like that is what caught him off guard.

the camera cuts to you, “offstage” laughing at the question and shaking your head a little in amusement.

or maybe he’s not shy, but rather jealous?

that’s kind of sweet.

regardless, you speak up for him, knowing he wouldn't answer. "I am not single, but thanks for asking."

the camera pans back to the team, just in time to catch the tail end of atsumu clapping your boyfriend on the shoulder.

sakusa gives you a small smile, clearly relieved you took over for him, and goes back to focusing on the interview.

hinata, the poor thing, reads the next question. “oh boy… @/msbymanager asks, sakusa and atsumu rivals to lovers arc when?”

you cackle as both men whip their heads in your direction, betrayal and incredulity on their faces.

raising your hands, you said to them “in my defence, I was still miffed about being dragged here on my day off when I sent it in!”

atsumu loudly refuted the question and the jeers from his teammates, but that was all drowned out by the look your boyfriend sent your way.

you sighed. you were really in for it later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ll 100% be doing more MSBY manager!reader. and I’ll do more PR scenarios as well, bc as much fun as this was to write, it didn’t have as much as I wanted to include. but I’ll have to do more research. thank you for reading!! and happy birthday sakusa <3

tags: @dira333 (ty for inspiring me to turn it into a mini-series) @emmyrosee (Ik you love Sakusa and you wanted the WIP for this a long time ago)

[disaster-racing]

I don't usually do text posts, but I just have to ask - has anyone else noticed something strange with the Screaming Meals streams recently? James and Clem have been making some weird comments about Marcus, and they sound... a bit worrying? So I went back to their previous streams to check, and here what they said:

Qatar quali stream:

C: "We're trying, you know, to really promote this channel… trying to make it grow, got no idea what we're doing. And Marcus Armstrong doesn't wanna help us." J: "Yeah. To be fair, he doesn't have a say these days in what goes on his Instagram." C: "Does he not? Oh! That's true, I forgot about that. That is true."

C: "So, so, can you… is that the real reason, the fact that you haven't got enough devices, that you're not listening to our stream, or is it sort of censored in the household, per se?" M: "Yeah, the US has actually censored Screaming Meals, umm…" C: "Oh, see, I didn't think it would have been–" J: "Sort of a North Korea situation, is it?" C: (laughs) M: (laughs) "For obvious reasons, mate, for obvious reasons." C: "Yeah, doesn't seem to be the US, but err…"

J: (talking to Marcus) "I don't know about you but the last time I checked my bank account, fuck me, there was some… there's gotta be some numbers missing, but…" C: (closes eyes, laughing)

Qatar sprint stream:

J: "Marcus gets to the UK sometime in November so we'll definitely be filming some stuff in November, as long as he's allowed to. Um, then you can get some more pods."

Qatar race stream:

J: "Marcus says please call a bit later than lap 15, with an x." C: "What a loser! Just always skiving off work." J: "Yeah, why, like… I dunno, he's probably getting screamed at or something, I dunno." C: "Marcus is? Yeah… well, he has been under quite a lot of pressure hasn't he, recently." J: "Yeah… " … C: "No, he hasn't lost control of his downstairs. He has lost control of his credit card, though." J: "He certainly has lost control of his credit card. Anyway!"

C: "Marcus joining us as well for a short trip [in Brasil]. Interesting." J: "Yeah apparently we're not allowed to talk about that." C: "No, we're not. Good times."

J: "Shall we give Marcus another go?" C: "Nah." J: "Fair enough." C: "He was being his usual 'I'm too cool for you guys'…" J: "He was being a bit, wasn't he. He's probably on another sanction from speaking to us." C: "I think so yeah. Must be one of those sanctions."

Mexico race stream:

J: "I'm gonna give Armstrong a buzz." C: "No chance he answers." J: "I believe he's due to fly out 9pm Mexico time." C: "He'll be under heavy control. …has your number not been placed on the 'banned' list?" J: "Ah, no, this is a burner." C: "Oh, mine has. Mine has." […] C: "Quite a lot of restrictions to get in contact with Armstrong these days."

Q&A stream:

(talking about what they would buy if they had to spend £1million on each other) J: "Then for Armstrong… ummm, I'd, I dunno, I'd probably just help him pay off his credit card debts." C: "True! Paying off his credit card debts would be something. Definitely."

C: "Look, we've got Loraine with the hashtag Free Marcus." J: (snorts) "No comment."

And when Marcus was on the sprint race stream last night, he seemed a bit tired and low energy, quite different to how he was on the streams earlier in the year. Maybe I'm just overreacting, but I really hope he's okay and some of the things they've said aren't as concerning as they sound...

[lyinginbedmon]

Oh lordy is there bad things going down across the VTuber space right now so I’m gonna try and unpack them for ease of comprehension.

Real quick: A VTuber is essentially just a regular livestreamer but instead of a facecam they have a custom model (usually made of layered images but also often a full 3D object) that tracks their face and such. Big tiddy anime girl representation to say the least but it’s a very creative space.

Next: Silvervale, Silver for short. Silver is one such big tiddy anime (wolf) girl, who is part of a corporate group of VTubers called VShojo. I probably don’t need to describe much more for the purposes of this post.

Hogwarts Legacy is a video game based in the bigotry-entrenched universe of the Harry Potter franchise by notorious face-of-transphobia Joanne K. Rowling. Since its announcement in 2018, trans individuals and groups have quite rightly highlighted numerous ethical and moral problems with the game ranging from the inherent bigotry of the setting, to the involvement of literal far-right YouTubers in its development, to just the basic stuff like its success greenlighting further instalments all while Rowling pockets royalties to (expressly) further fund her anti-trans projects (which includes her writing Literally being read into record to quash things like the Equality Act).

The general advice, which would be true regardless of your actual thoughts on the game or franchise, was to just not play it. That way Rowling makes less money, fewer future games are made, and nobody gets hurt as a result. You end your day $60 better off that you can spend on some other big game that isn’t basically radioactive.

To say the Video Gamers did not take that advice well would be an understatement, but things get really ugly when a streamer who otherwise professes to creating a calm and friendly atmosphere, who makes claims to being an ally, gives in and plays the Wizard Game. I’m not going to say that people haven’t been harassed for playing it, almost certainly someone has, but I just don’t have the data to be certain that it goes much further than just posting “trans rights” in chat.

Enter Silvervale. Despite half a decade of advance warning that she shouldn’t play this game, she played it anyway. Live on camera. The community she’d fostered for years didn’t take this well either, and the stream ended early amid purported harassment from the chat. Silver wasn’t the first VTuber to play the Wizard Game, but she was one of the first English-speaking ones.

Things could have just quietly ended there, but Silver then returned to streaming with more of the game and a statement that she had been “harassed” by “freaks and degenerates” on Twitter. Not her best choice of words, but the damage was done.

Because of the 5-year leadup to the Wizard Game releasing, the right-wing mob had already noticed the controversy around it and had made Huge investments into buying and promoting the game as well as spewing vitriol against anyone who even slightly suggested that doing so was in poor taste. They naturally then flocked to Silver’s defense and, following her unfortunate description of “marginalised people making their discomfort known as they had declared they would Years in advance” using language straight from 1930s Germany, started directly attacking any streamer who voiced their intent not to play the game however detailed their reasoning.

As a brief aside, there’s some confusion over how Silver’s chat moderation is set up, seemingly blocking such phrases as “trans rights are human rights”. Some say it’s an overzealous automod, others that her moderators are actually blocking the phrases, it’s unclear and not hugely worth focusing on here. But I mention it because it’s one of the common points made as people state their side on this issue.

This has essentially made Silver the face of transphobic bigotry in the VTuber community, whether or not she actually considers herself aligned with such bigots. Multiple smaller and independent trans VTubers have completely stopped streaming because of the bile being spewed at them by people with the likes of #IStandWithSilver in their bios. The overlaps between accounts on social media posting in her defense and numerous far-right hate movements is as undeniable as it is unpleasant to catalogue.

And boy that’s just the foundation of this whole sorry affair.

Another VTuber who is part of the same company as Silver, VShojo, is Apricot (more commonly called Froot). Froot not only decided to vocally not play the Wizard Game, but to post a tweet saying that she would personally donate to UK trans children’s charity Mermaids for every like the tweet received. She added that her brother is trans and she supports him immensely.

So the bigots that leapt to Silver’s defense very predictably started calling Froot a paedophile and child groomer, which is more or less what they label every pro-trans individual ever these days. Froot had to lock replies on her charity post and her post about her brother as a result, though the tweets remain up.

Most recently, a third peer in VShojo called Ironmouse came to Silver’s defense specifically in opposition to the alleged harassment she received which, again, anyone could have seen coming in the last 5 years by googling the Steam page for this game.

And honestly, at this point, whatever actually happened to Silver in that first stream is completely irrelevant because she’s become the rallying cry of people who actively want to exterminate the entire trans community from cradle to grave and literally beyond. And so much of it could be resolved or at least get the wind out of its sails if she took 5 minutes to just apologise for and disavow everything that happened in her name after she decided to keep playing the Wizard Game.

But, and I say this with no disrespect to Silver, I’m not holding my breath.

[bellaxisworld]

february 3, @jegulus-microfic prompt: king. word count: 679

Regulus stumbled his way into the Astronomy Tower, tears streaming down his face, sobs and trembles wracking his body. He gasped for breath as he ran into a strong chest, recoiling harshly before realizing it was Jamie. Oh, we’re home, his aching bones sang, reaching with desperation towards James. 

James cursed and wrapped his arms tight around Regulus. “Oh, shit, Reg, what’s wrong—” 

He buried his head into James’ shoulder and breathed him in, breathing in pure Jamie, his love, the boy whose arms he will always fall into, his safety and protector. He might have to face the wrath of his family, the wrath of the entire world on the outside, but here, he could just be Regulus, who loves James and is dearly loved by James. Here, he and James could forget the whole outside world, and just exist together in their little fantasies. They could be free, and share dreams and hopes, and think of better times, with the promise of a safer future with each other, somewhere far away. 

But for now, Regulus couldn’t get a word out around his violent sobs, so the boys stood there and James held him, rubbing soothing circles across his back and whispering words of kindness, of love. 

In James’ arms, he healed little by little, restored and calmer, and eventually he pulled James to the corner of the Tower, curling up against stone and under the blanket James always brought on their nightly Tower excursions. He wrapped himself around James, cuddled together, two bodies breathing and beating in sync, fondness warming their shared breaths as they shared lazy kisses, consoling kisses. 

Regulus’ head was resting on Jamie’s chest, hearing his heart thump, thump, thump. He listened to the heart that beat only for him, hearing the love that was intrinsically bound within those steady beats. 

“Would you like to talk about what happened, sweetheart?” James whispered, lips moving against his temple. 

Reg sighed, focusing on exhaling away his tension. “No, I don’t think so. Not right now.” Their hands were woven together, and Reg fiddled with James’ fingers, gentle and curious. “I think I just…I want to escape.”

James nodded, always understanding. “It’s one of those nights, huh? Where shall we escape to?”

He hummed. “I don’t know. Anywhere but here. What’s your dream tonight?”

“Let me think very hard, this is important business,” James said, ever so serious about sharing their far-away dreams. “I’m thinking we’re in a distant land, and Reg—you beautiful thing—you’re made of royalty. You’re…a generous king. And I am but a lowly peasant who begs for the attention of the highly desirable king. Everyone in the whole land practically crawls for King Regulus’ attention, because he’s kind, and beautiful, and thoughtful and creative, and he loves with his whole heart. And I… I would be a servant of the castle, and we’d fall in love in the shadows, love found in the little moments, kisses shared in the dark, and it would be lovely.” Reg felt his eyes sting at the description. James kissed his forehead, blowing out an amused breath. “And then you’d promote me, of course, and I’d be a crowned prince, and we’d live happily ever after. Looking after a kingdom together, buying all the expensive literature in the world for you, safe in our fortress of a castle. And we’re happy.” 

Regulus scoffed, throat choked up and eyes shining with tears. “You soppy bastard, you’re supposed to help me avoid crying tonight, you’re not supposed to get so romantic I want to snog you for eternity but I’m too busy crying to do so.” He squeezed James’ hand, tingling from his warmth. Quieter, he said, “But it’s perfect, that dream. We should make a fairytale out of it.” 

James gave him an adoring smile, dimples popping out. “You’re already my fairytale, Reg.”

Reg made an indignant noise, playfully pinching James’ arm. “Merlin, stop getting so soppy, I won’t ever stop crying.” 

He felt James’ grin pressed against his neck, laughter bubbling up between them. “As you wish, King Regulus.”

also found on ao3(multi-chapter microfic wip): february, i'm yours

[themore12]

Reasons why Vil Scheonheit is the best boyfriend.

If you look away from his beauty for a second you would see that he is actually caring. In his own way of course.

“— that isn’t good for your health.”

“Don’t touch your face that much it might ruin your beauty.”

“Come to my room tonight, ill show you my nightly routine.”

He might be a bit over bearing sometimes but it’s all in his effort to keep you beautifully healthy.

He can and will spoil you with the things you need and want.

You don’t have spare uniform because that old crow is a cheapskate? Don’t worry Vil has spare pomifiore uniform.

You don’t have the money to buy the things to take care of your skin?

Wow he was just sponsored by them earlier what a coincidence.

Other than being actually more useful than the crow, he is actually really sweet too.

When you would let him untie your hair or let him play with it to keep his mind off of his stress, he would often times smile and treat you to dinner later.

He is a bit stiff on cuddling since he has never acted nor slept next to someone, so he is a bit inexperienced with cuddling.

But he is a fast learner so on the 3rd time that you would sleep next to him he would know the basics of cuddling.

Whenever he appears on the runway you would be there because 1. You are his partner. 2. He bought you tickets. 3. He wants, no needs you there to support him.

He is open about your relationship to the public, but he would hide your identity.

Because he knows how toxic people can be when they find out their fave actor is already taken.

The first time he revealed it was subtle. Almost as if he was taking a pic with a friend.

But that friend has their face covered with a heart sticker.

So the internet went crazy.

‘VIL SCHOENHEIT HAS A PARTNER?!?!?’

‘Shocking new post of Vil Schoenheit.’

‘Our favorite villain has a lover?!?!’

And the pictures would continue until he was invited to a tv show asking him if he was taken or not.

“Are the speculations about you dating someone true?”

*chuckle*”Yes. I am dating someone.”

It took a few days for it to subside because everyone was shocked.

But when it did subside you both would just laugh about it whenever it gets brought up.

Ace:“Hey is it true that dormleader Vil is dating someone?”

—:“It is!”

Ace:”Wonder what kind of person they are. They’re probably pretty.”

—:”Probably.”*laughs*

Whenever he promotes the new TV show or movie that he would be in, he uses wetube or magicam to stream live.

And every time he does go live you would either appear in the background sometimes or your voice would be behind the camera while he streams.

“The new show will drop at august 13 be sure to check it out.”

*mumbles behind the screen*

*giggles*”And be sure to check out the new trailer for the upcoming movie ‘Queen of ashes.’”

“Not because im a cast there, but because my partner wants it to have a part 2. So please go watch it.”

He is rich, beautiful, great body, and great mind. What more do you want in a partner?

And let’s be honest no one minds waking next to messy haired vil.

This is not proofread. Also english isn’t my first language srryyyyyy

Also ill try to post every dayyyyy

[optimisticaudience]

Sound of Freedom, Operation Underground Railroad, and Tim Ballard are frauds who hurt the people who fight actual human trafficking.

Talk to anyone who fights real trafficking, they will tell you what is wrong with Ballard. To start with, he used to fight child sexual exploitation as a federal agent but he quit to act as a vigilante. Here is the short version of how OUR works: they go into a foreign country and throw money around until a pimp approaches them. They then tell the pimp they want children, and ask the pimp to bring kids to a secondary location. Then they call the cops, have the police arrest the pimps, streams the arrest on FaceTime for a high tier donor, and then go home. If you don’t get what’s wrong with this let me explain: OUR raises the demand for child sex slaves. A mommy blogger who Ballard brought along wrote an entire article about her experience. He says his team is all sorts of CIA agents and SEALs, but apparently moms from Utah are more reflective. It turns out some of the kids were trafficked for the first time FOR Ballard. He waved money and encouraged that trafficking. Afterwards, he left the country with a handshake promise that the kids would be cared for by the police. He will say the kids got aftercare, but evidence says otherwise.

But maybe that’s not enough for you?

He hired a psychic in Utah to tell him where a child was in the Dominican Republic. He flew a team as well as that child’s father down to the town the psychic indicated and found nothing other than locals scared of the American paramilitary vigilantes who were asking for children.

He and a sister organization said they were evacuating people from Afghanistan. No one has found any evidence to prove that.

He has claimed OUR saved a 12 year old girl from slavery. Then, she was 11. Then it turned out she saved herself a decade ago without his help and they want to get credit for rescuing her.

He claimed to be partnered with American Airlines, who have no idea what he is talking about.

So what actually DOES Ballard do?

He campaigns against drag queens

Promotes Qanon/Wayfair conspiracies

Cast the actor who played Jesus to play himself in his own movie. (The actor actively campaigns on blood libel Q conspiracies)

But beyond all that, just remember the movie isn’t donating to anti trafficking causes. It’s just asking you to buy more tickets to juice the numbers.

Donate to your local shelter. Most trafficking victims are trafficked by loved ones or people close to them. The victims need all the help they can get.

And another thing: People are conflating criticism of this film with apologia for child trafficking. I keep seeing posts say it will “Raise Awareness,” despite it being an incorrect portrayal. If that’s true, then Die Hard is raising awareness about bank robbers.

Here’s an idea: watch or read ANYTHING from real survivors of trafficking.

[itskpopular]

I just want to say that you don’t have to stan NCT WISH. You don’t have to buy their albums, stream their music, follow their social medias, or anything.

What you do have to do is stop being disrespectful towards these young men/children who are just trying to live their dreams and show off their talents.

Idc what your opinion is on whether they should be NCT or not, or that you think RIIZE is more NCT than them. You can have that opinion but don’t go posting about it where the members can see it or even saying it to their faces.

You can think what you want about Haechan’s comment but don’t twist his words to give yourself a reason to hate on the new members.

They are innocent people. They did not make any of the final debut decisions. That’s on SM Ent. They are just trying their best. They have trained just as hard as your favs to get here. They deserve this opportunity so much.

Again, you don’t have to like it. You can have your opinions. But you’re NOT a real fan if you are rude and say hurtful things to ANY of the NCT members, which includes NCT WISH.

NCT’s concept has ALWAYS been that they were adding new members. Since 2016, we have known this about NCT. International fans have always been more supportive (althought with some hesitancy) about new members joining. When Doyoung and Johnny joined in Limitless era, they were accepted. When Jungwoo and Lucas joined (and Kun started offically promoting) during Empathy era, they were accepted. When Hendery, Xiaojun, and Yangyang debuted with WayV, they were accepted (again with some hesitation). When Sungchan and Shotaro were added during NCT 2020, they were accepted (at least for the most part). This is NCT’s thing. Their whole concept.

We have been wanting a Japanese unit for literal years and now that we have one, you have the audacity to complain??? Yes, it sucks that Sungtaro left, Shotaro couldn’t be in the Jap unit with Yuta and that Yuta isn’t in the unit at all…it sucks.

However, we knew that with a new unit, comes new members, and before they announced the end of the unlimited member rule, we knew we would get many more members in the future.

Stop acting like this is shocking news and that it’s weird. You signed up for this when you became an NCTzens.

Anyone who hates on NCT WISH and the members is proving themselves to not be real fans and the members would be so disappointed in the disrespect you guys are putting under their name.

Sion, Riku, Yushi, Jaehee, Ryo, and Sakura all deserve to debut. They deserve the support that past members have been given when joining the group. They deserve more than hurtful words and rude fans. I know that some of them are very young but why does their age have to dictate if you will stan? You stan NCT DREAM and Jisung was literally 14 when they debuted? Chenle was 15, the 2000’ liners were 16 and Mark was 17. They were all minors. You probably stan other groups who have younger members as well. Don’t use their age as an excuse to be a hater.

I also feel like some are gonna be very mad at this post, but honestly bring it on. I am a proud NCTzen who loves and supports all of the boys. I will not stand for this stupid behaviour.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[moonchildstyles]

malibu

y/n finally has her dream life with her perfect husband. she just needs one more thing to make this the perfect night

wordcount: 14k+

—————

(Y/N) hummed in the kitchen, the hem of her powder blue dress swaying just below her knees as she listened to the shenanigans of Lucille Ball on the television set she had turned on in the living room. Tonight's dinner of a three-cheese lasagna was cooling on the stove top with the scent of basil and garlic warming the air. The pastry dough she'd just pulled from the refrigerator was still chilly as she rolled it out on the turquoise colored laminate covering her countertops, trying her best to make it thin enough she could see just a hint of the color underneath but not too thin as to ruin the hard work she put into layering the butter and pastry. Her diamond ring sat next to the sink, safely stashed away from tarnishing against the dinner she was finishing up for Harry's arrival home. 

Just above her work station was a glass window, warped just like a funhouse mirror at the carnival Harry had taken her on their first date all that time ago, but it didn't hide the view of her backyard. She was still getting used to the view of the beach in the distance. Despite there being a row of neighbors to either side of their new home, the development they'd moved into not long ago still had the open space that (Y/N) was sure was going to be made into another set of homes if Harry's predictions about Malibu's growth were right. 

Until then, she was going to take advantage of the sea view offered by her kitchen window, the sound of the waves crashing when she cracked open the glass, and the near constant sunshine that streamed through. Malibu was definitely a change from the rainy days she shared with Harry up until they moved less than a year ago, leaving their hometown where they fell in love to chase an opportunity he said could change their lives—set them up for a beautiful life together like the one he promised her in his wedding vows. 

It was hard leaving her family, but being by Harry's side as they forged their own path outside of the small opportunities offered back home was more than enough to make up for the heartache.  She couldn't be more proud of the man she was watching him become outside of their family's shadows.

The company he'd been brought into was doing so well, Harry walking around town with pride in his chest and a glowing smile on his face every time he could indulge (Y/N) in a dinner at the nice seafood restaurant on the coast, or even just a fresh bouquet of flowers he picked up on his way home. Nothing could beat the day he came running through the front door after work, calling to her from where she was cleaning up after her own workday, bright smile molding his features and chest heaving with the breath he was catching after running through the house. 

That was the day he told her about the major promotion he'd been offered, now seated just under the head of the company. The pay raise had been substantial—something they celebrated by buying their first television set—, and he'd be able to start coming home at reasonable times instead of doing the brunt work and staying late enough (Y/N) had to keep his dinner plate warm until he walked through the door hours after the sun dipped below the ocean line. It was what they had dreamed about the day they packed up and moved out West. It only made it better when (Y/N) realized that the promotion meant she no longer had to work as a secretary at town hall if she didn't want to (which she didn't. One of the councilman was a rat and did not respect the happy marriage she was in despite how many times she'd brought up the Mr. to her Mrs. or shown off the wedding photograph she had propped up on her desk). 

Now, she'd had a few months to settle into the life they had dreamed about when they laid out on the soccer field back home at the school where they fell in love. She made friends with some of the other families in the neighborhood and took pleasure in keeping house for Harry—he called it their love nest. She reveled in taking care of the details; fluffing the pillows, arranging Harry's records in perfect display, and trying to tame her growing book collection though there was always at least three novels spaced out around the house she promised to return to later before getting distracted. 

(Y/N) felt like the luckiest woman in the world when she settled into their emerald green couch at the end of the day. She had wonderful friends only a door away, a loving husband, and a beautiful home that smelled of the sweets she baked throughout the week. 

Today, she was trying out a recommendation from one of neighborhood friends: a peach and apple pie with cinnamon and sugar infused in the crust and almonds layering the bottom of the pan. When she had told Harry about it, he had lit up at the mention of peaches—his favorite summer fruit, he'd told her once in the backseat of his car when they were only teenagers. As she layered the now perfectly thin crust into the pie dish Harry's mother had gifted them as a wedding present, (Y/N) listened to the sound of laughter emanating from their television and hoped today's dessert would live up to Harry's expectations. 

Working quietly, (Y/N) finished filling her pie dish with the sweetened peaches and crisp apples before layering over the top in criss-crossed strips of crust. On instinct, the first thing she did was wash up her now free hands before slipping her wedding ring back on. The diamond sparkled in the light, refractions dancing over the sink for just a moment before flickering out once (Y/N) strayed from the sunlight. 

She felt accomplished once she slipped the completed confection in the oven, untying her apron before hanging it on the hook pinned to the wall by the fridge. Dinner was ready and waiting for the moment Harry walked through the door, with dessert baking away in the oven, sure to fill the house with the scent of cinnamon and sugar once the buttery mixture melted in with the fruit. Nothing but happiness filled her as she stood in the middle of her dream kitchen, waiting for her dream man to come home and tell her he loved her just as he did when he walked out the door that morning. 

As if she manifested it, Harry came through the door just as the vision of him with his slicked back hair and navy blue suit he left in this morning entered her mind. 

"(Y/N), darling, 'm home!" he called through the house, speaking over the beginning notes of The Danny Thomas Show sounding from their television set. 

Her skirt fluttered around her knees as she rushed out of the kitchen, heels clicking on the tiles. "Harry," she beamed, her voice taking on a dreamy quality once she caught sight of him. 

The briefcase he left the house with every morning was saddled by the door right next to the lunch pail she packed for him before he left for work as he pulled off his jacket, the rebellious set of tattoos he'd been collecting since they were teenagers winking through the thin white fabric of his dress shirt. His hair had fallen from the carefully slicked back 'do he had crafted in the mirror that morning, a rogue curl falling over his forehead while the rest of the waves struggled to make themselves known. It made him look younger, (Y/N) thought, harkening back to the days on the field at school, dimples deep in his cheeks and hair messy and curling enough that his mother nagged him to get a haircut. 

Malibu looked good on him.

Harry didn't even hesitate once he had his suit jacket hanging over the back of their sofa before he was gathering his wife up into his arms, (Y/N)'s own looping around his neck. Burying his face in the crook off her neck, he hummed out a sigh that rumbled his chest. 

"I missed you," he practically purred, "Left the house thinking about you, and never stopped." 

Despite the fact their modest wedding had occurred just over a year ago, it felt like the honeymoon hadn't worn off. Of course, they'd had their own set of problems and disagreements to get through (the move was probably one of the most stressful times in (Y/N)'s life and she made sure to let Harry know that), but never once had those butterflies flown from her tummy or the excitement of waking up beside him fade. Now being married herself, she doesn't think she'll ever fully understand sitcom families where the husband and wife weren't tripping all over themselves to be with one another. That just wasn't her and Harry.

"I missed you, too, H," she said, mussing the baby hairs that played on the nape of his neck. After making sure to squeeze him super tight one last time, she pulled away with the intention of only moving far enough back to see his face and nothing more. She was met with a beaming smile and softly flushed cheeks, mossy green eyes adoring as they traced her features. "How was work, honey?" 

His smile grew as did the dimples denting his cheeks at the gentle term of endearment she slipped in. He barred his arms around around her waist, his forearms creating a solid cradle that lined the small of her back as he canted his head down at her. "It was good. Had to review and approve m'first round of expense reports since the promotion, and—I can't lie, darling—it was so boring that I almost asked if I could go back to m'old position." 

(Y/N) only shook her head with a short smile on her lips, "It couldn't have been that bad." 

"It was awful, 'm telling you!" Harry exasperated, though his own mouth threatened to fall victim to a smile. "Towards the end of it, I had to start using a calculator I borrowed from accounting to double check if two plus two really was four or if I was losing it." 

A playful roll of her eyes molded her expression into something teasing. "What a hard life you lead—sitting in your cushy office with a beach view, checking numbers someone else did the hard work of crunching together." 

"I know," Harry sagged, playing along, "I don't know how I do it, precious. Sometimes, I wonder if I lost it ages ago, and all of this has been a dream. Wouldn't surprise me." 

"You're so dramatic, Harry Edward," she scolded him, though the reprimand held little weight through her smiling mouth. "Ridiculous." 

"But y'love me, anyway," he said, ducking his head down and pursing his lips in wait for a kiss. 

He didn't pose much of a question, but (Y/N) couldn't help but reaffirm him. "I do love you," she whispered before granting him the kiss he was practically begging for. 

Harry hummed into the kiss, contentment seeping through and coating her lips like honey. Still situated by the front door, arms wrapped round one another with Harry in his work clothes and (Y/N) in the nice dress she changed into before she started work on the dessert baking away in the oven, they didn't have any plans to move. Especially not with the way her husband gazed down at her like he didn't even see the rest of the house around them, only taking in the home standing right in front of him. 

"What did y'do today, (Y/N)?" he asked, the genuine interest in his gaze painting warmth over her in broad stripes. She loved when he said her name like that.

"Nothing too exciting," she sighed, shuffling on the toes of her heels, "After you left for work, I went over and saw Sarah and the ladies for brunch, and Connie told everyone she wants to start a book club with the ladies from the neighborhood, but I don't know if I'm going to join. I don't think I'd much like the books she'd pick out, but we'll see. Then I called our moms—they want us to visit soon, by the way—before I went to the post office to mail off a couple of those photos we took at the beach last week to both of them. But after that, I spent the rest of the afternoon reading before I started dinner." 

"Connie wants to start a book club?" he blanched, brows knitting in disbelief as he'd been stuck on that detail.

"That's what I thought!" (Y/N) bubbled, the strands of hair framing her face fluttering at her flustered movements, "Sarah and I had to keep from laughing when she suggested it. I almost choked on my quiche." 

"Wasn't she the one refused to speak to you for weeks when she saw your copy of Bonjour Tristesse on the table?" Harry pressed, canting his head as he tried to wrap his mind around it. 

"Yes, and she's the one that told me the only book she's read in the last three years was Eloise because she thinks adult literature is growing 'corrupt'." 

Harry almost looked pained as he recalled that specific story (Y/N) had come home with after having lunch with her friends. "Darling," he stressed, a shake of his head following after, "I don't think y'should join that book club." 

"I'll have to talk to Sarah tomorrow and see if she thinks we should join just to see what Connie thinks is worthy of having weekly meetings over, but I don't think I'll be reading any of her recommended books." 

He let out a laugh at her words before tipping his chin a pressing a soft kiss to (Y/N)'s forehead. "I don't blame you," he muttered under his breath, "Y'had a busy day, precious. I don't know how y'handle all of them and still have time to make dinner and take care of the house. You're too good for me." 

A heat filled (Y/N)'s cheeks, smile blooming like the bouquet of peonies that Harry had brought home Monday night to her. "No, I'm not, H. Don't say that. We're perfectly matched, don't you think?" 

"I don't know, love," he sighed, looking at her like she was a dream or an otherworldly creature that he couldn't comprehend, "I think I got really lucky with you. Don't know what I did to convince y'to love me forever, but I'll take it." 

(Y/N) didn't know what to say as she took in his affectionate words, her heart beating to the tune of his name. She shied in his hold, shifting in his arms to hug him around the waist with her cheek pressed against his shoulder. Harry's own arms tightening around her, keeping her safely cradled into his form.

"Where'd all this come from?" she peeped, finally finding her voice amid all of the heart shaped clouds that puffed through her head, "You're going to make me cry if you're not careful, honey." 

Harry hummed, his chest rumbling under her cheek. His contentment was clear as he began to sway them on the small rug that carpeted the tile by the front door. "I listened to Etta all day in m'office while I did paperwork—can't blame me for feeling extra in love with you," he gently argued, his nose skimming the top of her head. 

"And to think I thought you would be in an Elvis mood," she started, skating over his affectionate words in fear of her heart falling out of her throat if she tried to speak around it, "I even got your records out and everything." 

"Mm," he hummed, reluctantly drawing away from her though he made sure to wrap one of her hands up in his as he towed her along with him to his stack of precious records he began collecting the second they had the money to do so, "I can think of one of his songs I want to listen to, darling" 

He thumbed through the stack she laid out for him, the covers worn and crinkled at the corners from near-constant use. (Y/N) watched his long fingers flick through the album sleeves until he pulled out the record he was seeking, shooting her a sly glance before slipping his hand out from hers. He gave her his back as he played with the gramophone, adjusting the needle after laying the record gently on the base. The familiar static buzz of the speaker filled the air as the record spun, the grooves not quite catching on the pick until the first notes of Harry's chosen song joined the fray. 

(Y/N) tilted her head with a small smile as soon as she recognized the music now filling her living room, Danny Thomas and his family completely forgotten on the television screen. Mr. Presley crooned out the opening lyrics of First In Line, one of Harry's favorites to sing to her when he was feeling particularly in love with her. 

Harry wasted no time in collecting her in his hold, his palm conforming to the curve of her waist whilst he laced the fingers of his other hand through hers, palms pressed together. He held their joined hands just between their chests as he started swaying her to the music, dimples deep in his cheeks as he gazed down at her, looking all too smug. 

Unable to shake the smile from her face as she danced in the living room with her husband, (Y/N) spoke around it as she told him, "You're such a cheese, H. I should've known you'd play this."

Faux-offense molded his features as he spun her around, her skirt fluttering around her shins before she was settled once again in his hold. "'M a cheese for loving m'wife? Since when is that so bad?" he argued, a light shining behind his green eyes as he ducked his head down to match her gaze, "Besides, as far as I remember, y'like it when 'm a cheese." 

"Maybe," she countered with a shrug, turning her head before he could catch just how much she really did love when he became especially sticky and sweet on her. 

His hand on her waist disappeared before landing on the round of her smiling cheek, pulling her back to face him. That proud grin on his face only grew once he felt how heated she was under his palm, blood glowing under her cheeks. "See? 'M right, aren't I? I see y'getting all shy, don't lie. Y'love when 'm soft on you." 

With his steadying hand on her cheek and the soft of his thumb running along the height of her cheekbone, (Y/N) felt her features round out and soften all that much more as soon as her eyes met Harry's. He liked when she got like this, he'd told her before, all shy and warmed by his love; he said once it reminded him of the girl he met all that time ago when she moved next door to him, quiet and shy and so pretty, he decided then he wanted to know her. 

"Maybe," she repeated on a breath, brain a little too preoccupied trying to dedicate this vision of him to memory to think of anything more brilliant to argue with. She watched as his grin grew and dimples deepened at her response; he knew he won.

Shaking his head before dipping down and pressing a gentle kiss to the bridge of her nose, Harry held her close as the final notes of Elvis's crooning voice filled their living room, the much more upbeat tone of Paralyzed now replacing it. Harry left it to play as he unraveled himself from around his wife, only reaching back to turn down the music and flick off the television before tugging her along with him towards the kitchen. 

"Said y'finished dinner already, darling?" he asked her, casting his gaze over his shoulder at her, the heels of his fancy work shoes clicking over the tiles.

"Mhm," she hummed, finding her voice despite the distracting view of his contracting muscles under the stretch of his shirt, "It's—uh—it's that lasagna I told you one of the ladies recommended. It should be cooled down by now, if you're ready." 

Harry feigned a nonchalant shrug before slipping his hand out of hers in favor of reaching for some glasses and the bottle of wine he had stowed atop of the fridge. "Yeah, I think I could eat before I take y'upstairs." 

(Y/N)'s mouth went dry at the implication of his words, thighs squeezing under the cover of her dress. "You want to take me upstairs?" 

Casting a glance over his shoulder, his face displayed something incredulous, like he couldn't be sure she was really questioning him. "Of course I do, silly. Where have y'been for the last twenty minutes?" 

Despite his teasing, she couldn't stop the smile that took her lips and the heat that bubbled under her skin. "I'll get everything ready, then," she said, reaching for a duo of plates to dish out tonight's dinner onto. With her back to him, spatula in hand as she cut out squares of the cooled lasagna, (Y/N) listened to the clinking of glasses before a wine cork was dislodged from the bottle. She swallowed, voice coming out like a secret, "Y-You'll take me upstairs after, though?" 

"If I can wait that long," Harry answered in a beat, voice casual like (Y/N) wasn't feeling her muscles unravel and tighten all at the same time as he spoke. He might as well have been asking her if she wanted to see Marilyn Monroe's new movie this weekend with how dismissive his tone was.

Swallowing, all (Y/N) was able to peep out was a quiet okay, as she grated extra cheese on the top of their lasagna squares. She took her time as she dished out helpings of the leafy salad she had off to the side and the twisted breadsticks she'd learned the recipe for from Harry's mother. The plate assembly was a needed distraction as she processed his words. 

Her voice came back to her as she turned with the filled plates in hand to find Harry sat at the head of the dinner table, a glass of wine dictating where she was meant to sit across from him. He had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, leaving his forearms bare, the multitude of ink on his left arm looking especially dark with the help of the fading sunlight leaking in through the sliding glass door behind him. That one stray curl that refused to stay in place still hung over his forehead, matching the boyish charm that lit up his eyes once he caught how flustered his wife was. All it took was the raise of an eyebrow at her, dimple threatening to dip into his cheek, that she spoke again. 

"And if you can't? Wait that long, I mean," she murmured, settling his plate in front of him first. 

He shrugged, catching her eye again with his cute smile full of white teeth and raspberry colored lips. "Guess I'll jus' have to have y'on the table, then." 

(Y/N) couldn't even have hoped to school her features into a more lady-like reaction before her jaw fell open, parting her lips into a small gape, gaze going dreamy and rounded while the set of her shoulders bowed. Her breathing hitched in her lungs, the air coming out in a puffed exhale she hadn't intended on letting out. There was nothing in her head that she could compute as she looked at him, innocent expression on his face despite the words that hung in the air between them. 

The seconds she lagged behind in getting herself together only served to make Harry more and more smug over his effect on her. The spell was broken as soon as he patted her on the bottom, urging her towards her already set up spot at the table, red wine in a crystalline glass at the ready. "Go sit down, darling," he told her, "I think y'need to eat a little bit before we talk any more about that, hm?" 

On stilted legs, she moved to her spot at the dinner table, facing Harry at the other end. She could feel his eyes on her with every step, her heels clicking over the tiled floor in sparks of noise. (Y/N) tried her best to settle her features, even out her reaction a little more before she sat down and had to face him again. She figured she didn't do too stellar of a job when Harry's grin could be seen over his wine glass as he took a sip. 

A beat passed as they cut into their food, (Y/N) doing so on autopilot as she couldn't shake the vision of Harry bending her over the dining table and taking her just as he said, before her husband let out a praising moan around the food. 

"(Y/N)," he started, affection dripping from his voice as it wrapped around her name in a loving squeeze, "this is wonderful. Y'said the ladies gave y'the recipe?" 

Perking up under his praise, she cast him a genuine smile around her heart in her throat. She nodded her head, hair fluttered about at the motion, "It was Glenne's recipe. There's like three different cheeses, and marinated garlic, and all this other fancy stuff. It kept me busy." 

"This might be m'new favorite," Harry pressed, his smile going lopsided as he gazed at her, "Best chef in the neighborhood, I swear." 

"I don't know about that," she brushed off through her smile, feeling her features heat for a different reason this time. 

He was the best at distracting her, she realized, as he continued speaking. Though she still yearned for the moment she could hopefully convince him to do anything—take her here on the table or upstairs to their bedroom—, he was definitely doing his part of distracting her with sweetened praises and questions of what book it is that she read today. 

She just hoped he wouldn't be so good at it that he forgot that promise. 

—————

"I can wrap up some leftovers and send them with you to work tomorrow, if you want?" 

(Y/N) cleared up the table, her setting already waiting in the sink as she had put it away when getting Harry's second serving of the night. She spoke over her shoulder to Harry as he still sat at the dinner table, glass of wine down to the final sip as his eyes followed her. 

"That would be nice, darling, thank you," he smiled, stretching in his seat before leaning into the carved back, "Then, I'll get to brag to everyone about not just how smart and pretty my wife is, but she's the best cook in town, too. Marinates her own garlic and everything." 

"See? Just like I said—you're a cheese," she laughed, shaking her head before focusing her attention on the dinner plates now soaking in the soapy water filling the sink. 

Dinner had gone by quietly, Harry being the sweetheart he always was and asking her more about her own day before providing anecdotes about his own, making plans with her for this weekend, and obnoxiously praising her cooking. While he'd done a good job of steering the conversation towards safe dinner table talk, she still couldn't shake the anticipation that grew in the pit of her stomach every time he opened his mouth. She wondered every time if this was going to be the moment that he declared he could no longer wait around, that he wanted to take her right now. She wondered if he would push his plate out of the way and knock his wine to the side before hiking her up onto the table and serving her up like his most preferred meal. 

Seeing as how (Y/N)'s dress was still buttoned to her neck and every piece of china was in perfect condition, that moment never came. Instead, she dished out a second helping of his new favorite dinner and sat with her glass of wine as she talked to him about anything other than the warmth that had gathered between her thighs. Besides, she still had hope that even if she didn't get bent over the dining table with Harry pressing into her from behind, that she'd at least have the weight of his body hovering over hers as he worked her into their mattress upstairs. 

As she laid out their plates on the drying rack stationed to the side of the sink, (Y/N) felt a pair of arms slip around her waist before a pair of lips dropped a kiss to the cuff of her shoulder. A gentle smile tugged at her lips as her hands slowed in the soapy water, only a set of forks sitting at the bottom of the sink. Harry's arms were strong around her waist, her form being hugged back into his chest tight enough she could feel the expanding of his lungs with every deep inhale. 

"Have I told y'how pretty y'look today?" he mumbled into her skin, the words being stamped over her pores and sinking into her melting system. 

Tipping her head to the side, she offered the expanse of her neck for him to trail his kisses over, the warmth of his mouth heating her blood. "Maybe a little." 

"Doesn't sound like I've said it enough then, does it?" he countered, his hold on her loosening until his palms were on either side of her hips. He took advantage of the grip and spun her around in his arms. He gazed down at her with heat hiding behind the jade of his eyes, tracing languidly over her features while his arms looped around her waist. "So, so gorgeous, darling," he praised her, voice a breathy whisper tinted with the scent of the cherry-noted merlot they shared, "And so patient, aren't you? Saw y'squirming all through dinner, but not once did y'interrupt me or whine for taking m'time—not even when I asked for seconds." 

Swallowing around the lump of her heart that climbed up her throat, (Y/N) whispered, "You noticed?" 

"Of course, I did, darling," Harry told her with pure confidence, cocking his head to the side as if he couldn't believe she was asking, "Had m'eyes on you the whole night, of course I noticed my pretty little wife getting antsy, waiting for me to bend her over the table." 

It was the way her jaw fell open, lips agape, and eyes gazed up at Harry in a dreamy daze that made it almost too clear how on the nose he was. That confidence that shone in his eyes spread over his face as his lips quirked into a lopsided grin, all too smug to be fair with his dimples softening his features.  She floundered over a response, restless fingers busied with the buttons on Harry's top. 

"I mean," she swallowed, trying her hand at his signature nonchalance though she didn't pull it off nearly as well as she couldn't pluck her gaze from her hands on his chest, "I wouldn't have complained if that happened." 

Harry's response lagged, causing (Y/N) to pull her eyes from the sheer pink painted over her nails, to find him looking to her with the blunt of his teeth digging into his bottom lip. His eyes were clear as he scanned them over her features, tracing over the planes of her face before dropping to the curve of her throat. She watched as he followed the lines and slopes of her neck, the smooth skin disappearing under the collar of her dress. She felt exposed even with the cover of her dress, fingers growing restless as she plucked at the buttons fastening his shirt to the broad of his body with her wedding band glimmering in the lowlight. 

"And what would y'have done if I did do that, since y'weren't going to complain?" he murmured to her, the air in the room being sucked out as he dropped the volume of his tone. 

Her breathing was interrupted as she struggled to figure out how to tell him how good she would have been for him had he pulled her out of her chair and flipped her skirt up. She didn't know how to articulate how quickly she would have dropped to her knees in the middle of their meal if he gave her the right look, ready to please him. She didn't know how to express that she wouldn't have blinked an eye seeing their china fall to the ground and wine splash over the tiled floor with a sweep of his arm before tugging her up with her back flat on the table before placing himself between the cradle of her thighs, driving his hips between her legs. 

"Y'would've let me, wouldn't you?" he mused, voice growing thick and dark like molasses. His hold on her shifted, his arms falling from the loop they made around her waist to anchor his hands on either side of her hips, the flare fitting into his palms. With his new grip, he kept her steady as he pressed his hips flush against hers, the ridge of his hardened cock pressing into the soft of her stomach through her linen dress, the fabric creasing and molding itself around him. Harry didn't need an answer before he continued, backing her up in the direction of the dining table behind her as he said, "Y'would have just laid there pretty for me while I had m'fill, huh? Perfect little wife, taking care of her man, aren't you? Work so hard all day to keep you in your pretty dresses and nice house, least y'could do is have me between your legs, relax with your pussy around m'cock." 

If not for his hands on her hips, (Y/N) swore she would have toppled to the ground; bones emulating her soft insides that were willing to turn into anything, bend into any shape at Harry's will. Her steps backwards were nothing more than clumsy shuffles as she couldn't find anything in her brain willing to function on any other plane than the view that was granted in front of her. She watched as Harry took a slow perusal of her features, noting the way he smiled at her reaction, the curl lingering and slow though his eyes darkened with the blown out size of his pupil. 

"Is that what y'would have done for me, (Y/N)?" he pressed just as (Y/N) hit the edge of the dining table, the empty wine glasses tottering on the surface at the force. Before she had a chance to distract herself with the noise, Harry brought his hand up to her face, pinching her chin between her thumb and forefinger. He ensured she matched his gaze, nothing more important in that moment than who was standing in front of him. "Tell me the truth, darling." 

Her hands fluttered behind her, gripping the edge of the table with her nails tapping the underside of the surface as Harry pressed himself flush against her. Her bottom edged to sit on the table, her feet threatening to lift from the ground if Harry made the right move and laid her out on the surface. Forcing herself to release her bottom lip from the cage of her teeth, she nodded her head. "I wo-would. I would've been so good for you, H, I promise. Let you do whatever you want—I'll take it." 

"Yeah?" he pressed, dipping his head just right to come near enough that the tip of his nose skimmed hers.

He was just close enough to feel the heat of his breath fanning over her skin, but not close enough to feel even the barest graze of his lips over hers. Tipping her head back, she only nodded to him as an afterthought before smoothing her mouth over Harry's, something akin to relief touched at her system at the first graze of his mouth she'd had since he came home. Harry melted into the contact, his hold on her softening though the press of his bulge into her stomach never lessened. His hand on her face slipped to fall over the curve of her neck, palm pressing against the base as her breathing stuttered underneath it. 

A smug curl of his lips could be felt against her mouth as he gauged her reaction. Harry's hand on her hip urged her backwards, pushing her to sit herself on the table despite the flower arrangement lurking just behind her. Reluctantly, his hand sitting at the base of her throat traced down her form before matching the other on her hip. His palms warmed her through the fabric of her dress, the imprint of his wedding band sinking into the soft of her skin. 

Distracted by the slip of his tongue into (Y/N)'s mouth, she hadn't noticed the way his hands slid further down her body until they wrapped around the back of her thighs. He swept her off her feet, her gasp coating Harry's mouth as her hands fluttered to steady herself with a hold on his shoulders. He settled her gently on the surface of the table, the reaching leaves of the peony arrangement tickled at the back of her bare arm, goosebumps rising in the wake. 

Harry didn't waste a second before he fit himself snugly between her legs, soft thighs cushioning his hips. His palms cradled her cheeks as he smeared his lips over hers in frantic kisses, tongue wetting her lips and sweeping over her own. Strands of his hair tickled her nose as they fell from the perfect coiffed style he wore to work, the ends curling and reaching out towards her like they couldn't stand to not be touching her like the rest of him. (Y/N)'s breathing came out in soft puffs through her nose as she tipped her head in whatever which way Harry wanted her during their messy kisses. 

Feeling his shoulders under her palms through the fabric of his shirt wasn't enough for (Y/N) anymore as she hooked her ankle around the back of his leg. It wasn't fair, she decided. She made him dinner and kept the house warm while he was away at work, she deserved to feel the heat of his bare skin, the heave of his chest as he struggled to steady his breathing despite refusing to stop kissing her, the beat of his heart against his ribcage under her hand. She deserved all of that. 

Tracing her hands down from the broad of his shoulders, (Y/N) sought out the row of buttons fastening his shirt to his form. She blindly ran her palms over his chest, fingertips itching to take apart the material in favor of reaching the bare of his skin. As soon as she hit that first button, she made quick work of the binding, taking them down one by one as Harry's kissing dissolved in favor of feeling a smug smile against her mouth. 

"Could've jus' asked if y'wanted me to take this off, precious," he told her, the murmur quiet as it floated between the two. 

She felt breathless as she spoke, her nose nudging against his as she gave a short nod, "I-I want it off. Please, I want to touch you, H." 

Though he didn't make any attempts to stop her hands from playing with the final button on his now untucked shirt, Harry didn't make any move to help. He seemingly considered her request, a brow raising as he seemed to remember something. 

"Are y'sure?" he pressed, hands on her face moving to slid into her hair, "I thought y'said you'd lay there and take it for me—promised you'd jus' be my pretty little wife and let me take you. Don't really need to touch me if y'do that, do you?" 

She floundered at his response. Of course she wanted to be good and take it—take him—, but didn't he want her to touch him? That wasn't fair, (Y/N) thought. That's not fair to feel his hands all over her body, and not have the chance to reciprocate; even now with his fingers threading through her hair, she couldn't fathom not doing the same to him with even a brush of her fingertips over his chest or a comb through his hair. 

"B-But, H—That's not fair, I want to tou—" 

He cut off her whining with a tender kiss to her lips, the perfect distraction as she melted into him. "'S alright, darling," he soothed her, "I was only teasing. Let me help you, yeah?" 

With her hands fisted in the hem of his shirt, she nodded her head in giddy jerks. "Thank you, thank you, H," she told him through her growing smile. 

She gladly let her hands fall from his form as soon as she felt Harry's replace hers at the final fastening on his top. His dress shirt was quickly shed from his form as soon as the final button was undone, creating a white puddle at his feet. (Y/N) watched through a dreamy gaze as he then fit his fingers through the neckline of his undershirt, the white tank joining the puddle of material on the floor only a second later. 

(Y/N) couldn't help the satisfied grin that molded her features as soon as she caught sight of the full of Harry's tanned torso. Their days at the beach were not spent in vain she could see now with the black of his tattoos standing out against the gold of his skin. He was the perfect Malibu daydream: curling hair, dark tattoos from a rebellious streak inked over tan skin, bright green eyes rivaling the seafoam in their backyard, and the glint of a shining wedding band on his finger. 

"This what y'wanted, (Y/N)?" he asked her, resuming his spot between her legs though his hands made a new home on the tops of her thighs. Her dress conformed to the shape of his fingers, ruching up just enough to unveil more of her legs the more he moved. 

"Mhm," she hummed, pleased with herself once he was close enough for her own hands to land on his bare skin. He was just as warm as she had glimpsed under his work shirt, skin soft as her fingertips dented the flesh though there was only so much give over the blocks of his muscles. 

Just as she made a move to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat, manicured nails raking over the birds etched just under his collarbones, Harry stopped her. His hands were firm as they landed on her waist. It was his turn to look a little smug down at her, (Y/N) knowing that he let her win only so he could collect his own bigger victory. 

"You've got to take something off now, too. Keep it fair, darling, right?" he mused, sharp gaze dropping to her own set of buttons tying her dress up high on her front. 

A pout made itself known on her features as soon as she realized what he was suggesting. "But, Harry, that's not fair. I only have my dress on, so it wouldn't be fair if I was naked and you're still half-dressed," she argued, sounding a bit petulant to her own ears though she didn't have it in herself to care much at the moment. 

Harry's grin seemed to only stretch wider, dimples deep thumbprints in his cheeks, at her words. "'M sure we can figure something out, don't you think?" 

It was then that she watched as he lowered himself to his knees between her legs. Her feet dangled on either side of him, the toes of her heels tapping against he width of his forearms. With the fluff of her dress obscuring Harry's hands as they disappeared up the hemline, (Y/N) was reminded of her wedding day in that moment. She remembered the way he ran those same hands up her legs, her cheeks having been blazing on fire with her blood bubbling underneath at the fact their families had been watching as he searched for the garter under her wedding gown. Now, there was a much less innocent glint to his eyes, something much more smug in his smile, and the heat under her skin had less to do with embarrassment. 

The clear green of his eyes became the focal point of (Y/N)'s view as she gazed down at him, her hands once again curled around the lip of the table in an effort to keep herself steady as she watched. His own hands traveled under the length of her dress, nails catching on her soft skin with tickling scratches that he soothed with a sweep of his fingertips until he found the line of her underwear. He directed her to budge up, darling, as soon as he found the waist of the soft cotton, wasting no time before working the garment down the length of her legs. He helped her kick off her heels before the underwear followed, the sodden middle clear in the lowlight filling the dining room.

"Feels a lot more fair now, doesn't it?" he told her, satisfied as he cast his gaze to the panties in his hands, definitely noting the slick that coated just where her pussy would have been nestled in the fabric. 

"Not with you all the way down there," she complained, already missing the heat of him all around her and the width of him between her thighs. Besides, she didn't go through all that trouble to get his top off only to look at him from a distance. 

Harry tsked at her as he dropped her panties to the growing pile of laundry on the floor, rising from his knees as he playfully shook his head. "And to think," he started, drawing his hands up over her legs with the hem of her dress still caught on his wrists, "that y'had promised me you'd be good. I don't think backtalk is being good, is it, darling?" 

As soon as he was near enough, (Y/N) didn't hesitate before she trailed her hands up his arms, inky tattoos on his left arm standing out starkly against her own design-less skin. "Can you blame me?" (Y/N) countered, looking up at him through fanned out lashes, "You wouldn't like it if I was half dressed but you weren't able to touch me at all. Especially, if I had been teasing you all night." 

Only a single dimple dented into Harrys' features as a lopsided smile took over his mouth, an affectionate glaze lacquering his eyes. "I guess I can't when y'put it that way," he mused, dipping his head a pressing a kiss to her own kiss-swollen lips, "I have been teasing you all night, haven't I? Of course, you're going to act out when 'm making y'so needy." 

With the rumbling of his voice she could hear just as much as she could feel with her hands on his chest, and his body pressing into hers, (Y/N) nodded her head as best she could without drawing too far away from his lingering kiss. The tip of his nose skimmed along the side of her own, as he indulged her in a seeking press of his lips before he drew away. He drug his gaze over her form, following the line of her neck until it disappeared under the collar of her dress until he found his hands on her thighs. The skirt was still bunched at his wrists, concealing the way his fingertips were denting into the soft of her thighs underneath the fabric. 

He took his time inching his hands up her legs, his gaze following after. (Y/N) felt her entire body clench, muscles tight, as soon as she felt the tips of his fingers met the crease of her thigh just before the sensitive skin of her core. The beginnings of a self-satisfied smile worked on his mouth as he peered at her through his lashes, a little too amused at her reaction. 

"H-Harry, please, can you just—...You said no more teasing," (Y/N) whined when he lingered too long, not moving his hands any farther than the full of her thighs and gentle fingertips not even daring to prod any deeper between. 

"Did I say that, darling?" he mumbled, voice barely more than a graveled whisper, "Because I don't think I would. I like this game a little too much to have promised to stop." 

(Y/N) couldn't help herself before her features contorted, a crease filling in between her brows and eyes going distressed to match the pout on her lips. "But, Harry—" 

"Don't whine like that, darling," he stopped her, voice a firm murmur, "I'll give y'what y'want, jus' let me play." 

Though it wasn't the answer she wanted (the ideal response she was looking for at this point was him undoing his pants before driving himself between her thighs, but it would appear that life isn't fair), she was going to have to accept it if she wanted him at all. Nonetheless, as he continued his lingering game, hands not even moving at this point, she keened her back, arching into him in search of his kiss. 

Something calmed in her as soon as she felt his lips seal against her own. She was grounded to the moment finally, his mouth a promise that he was going to take care of her, not to worry because he had her. She had to take that if she was going to stay sane through his games. Harry seemed to notice her compliance then as he finally drifted from the spot his palm was warming over her thigh and brushed his fingertips over the mound of her core. Desperation made her skin overly sensitive, the barely there touch calming an ache that lingered just under the surface. Her fingernails dug into the wood of their table at the touch, spine stiffening with a hitch in her breath. 

"See?" he told her, words fanning across her opened mouth, "When you're sweet, y'get what y'want." 

"Y-Yeah," she agreed, voice a touch shaky as she wanted more of his attention, "Thank you, H." 

The hand he still held on her thigh tightened at her gratitude, fingertips denting the soft flesh he regularly fawned over when he had his face tucked between them. Tipping his head, he smeared his lips over the corner of her mouth, his own expression twisting as if that was exactly what he wanted to hear from her. Her murmured something against her skin that was too muffled to catch anything more than the affection seeping from his tone as he drew himself closer to her form, leaving just enough room for his hand to work between them. 

Harry's gentle fingertips moved deftly down between her legs, tracing over her slick slit. (Y/N) breath became stuck in her throat when she felt him graze over her pearled clit, thighs tensing around his hips. She tried to say his name—say anything—but nothing came out other than the strangled air that lingered in her lungs. With his two fingers bundled together, he slid them over her folds, coating himself in her wetness as he dropped his head to burrow against the curve of her neck. As he kissed over her jumping pulse, (Y/N) was hyperaware of the way his two longest fingers prodded around her slick opening, teasing her as she clenched around nothing. Using his grip on her leg and a push of his hip on the other, Harry spread her open wider, baring her completely to him. 

With her skirt pushed up to her waist, just barely concealing what Harry was doing between her legs from view, (Y/N) had half the mind to be embarrassed, knowing just how easy it would be for a nosy neighbor of theirs (and Lord knows they have enough of them) to peek through an open window and catch her husband moments away from fingering her on the dinner table. Before she could get too far with that thought, (Y/N) entire body fell lax as Harry sunk his fingers inside her. 

"Oh my god," she keened, back arching as her head fall backwards with her throat on display. Her toes curled from where her feet dangled on either side of Harry's legs, matching the grip of her hands on the edge of the table, scratches sure to be left on the underside from where her nails gouged the wood. 

His smug smile could be felt against her shoulder as he made no move to draw away from the home he made in the soft of her form. He thrusted his fingers in lingering pulls between her parted thighs, thumb grazing the bud at the top of her slit while his fingers prodded at her soft spots from the inside. 

At the first brush of his fingers against her most tender spot—the one he helped her discover in the backseat of his car just after they graduated—, she reflexively unlatched her hand from the lip of the table. She reached for his forearm, the muscles bunching and tensing under her hands as he stroked his fingers inside her wetness. Now her fingers dented the warm skin, his body her lifeline in that moment. The sound of her slick swallowing around his fingers traveled through the room, drowning out the notes of Elvis that dared to filter through the house. Despite how relaxed she felt at the first dip of his fingers inside her, an unbelievable pressure ribboned itself around her insides, tightening her further and further until she swore if not for the distraction of all the pleasure coursing through her system, she could have been in pain. Her eyes fell closed with a flutter of her lashes, hair falling down her back as she couldn't find it in herself to right her posture. 

"Relax, darling, relax," Harry crooned to her, his voice breaking through the atmosphere that was building around her, "If you're too tight for m'fingers, how am I gonna fit inside, hm? Relax so I can give y'what y'want." 

"I-I can't help it, Ha-Harry," she cried, tips of her hair tickling her skin as she shook her head. 

"Yes, y'can," he told her, the command spreading like honey over her skin as he spoke into her neck. The tip of his nose skimmed along the curve of her throat as he worked up to whisper into her ear, "Jus' breathe, alright? Settle down and then I'll give you m'cock, yeah?" 

Though his fingers never relented the pace they were working between her legs, only lingering longer and longer over her walls as they grew snug around him, (Y/N) tried her best to follow his direction. Her breathing came in shaky inhales, cut off when he pressed his thumb into her clit just right or tapped on the tender spot on her insides, but she was trying. She used the feel of Harry's lips lingering over her neck and the anchor of his arm under her palm to ground her to the moment. It took a few tries before she had an even pace going, her body relaxing as she allowed him to manipulate her as he pleased without her body trying to reign control. 

"That's better, precious," he praised her, slowing his fingers between her legs into gentle strokes to help open her up. His hand on her thigh gave another squeeze before slipping out from under the cover of her dress. She felt the heat of his palm trace over her form until she felt his fingers wrap around the base of her exposed throat. The span of his hand pressed into the shelf of her collarbones, urging her to lay back as he drew away from the home he made along the curve of her form. "Lay down, darling." 

His command came out on a breathy exhale that fanned over her skin, a layer of goosebumps erupting in its wake despite the humidity that suddenly filled the dining room. (Y/N) didn't stand a chance against his gentle pushing, carefully laying back on the table without disrupting the bouquet of flowers that reached out to touch her. Now without the anchors of his arm and the edge of the table to grip into, (Y/N) fisted her skirt in her hands, eyes hooded as she gazed up at Harry through the veil of her lashes. 

The ink of his pupils was large and blown out, darker even in the low hanging light that centered over the dining table. She felt like the perfect meal lying before him with the way his gaze lingered over her form, tracing each curve and flare and dip of her body through the linen of her dress. His hand on her neck slipped down her body, now only a ghost of his warmth being felt on the hollow of her throat. All the while, his leisurely thrusting fingers between her legs came to a slow stop before he pulled them from her entirely. (Y/N) hissed when he made a point to drag his fingertips along her slit and press into her budding clit, her back arching just enough to bow off the surface of the table. 

He hushed her gently, Harry's voice coming as a coo around her name as he soothed her. He ran his clean hand down the length of her thigh in a calming run before all evidence of his touch was gone in an instant. (Y/N) caught her breath in that moment until she heard the found of his fingers tinkering with the buckle of his belt and the unzipping of his trousers. Her heart stuttered for a moment at the noises, knowing what was coming next, until upstarting at a pace she couldn't remember achieving outside of their wedding night. 

"Keep them open for me, love," Harry instructed her, his hands landing on her hips to drag her to the edge of the table as he worked himself between her thighs. She hadn't even realized she had gone to close her legs until he said anything, instinctively aching to close them and give herself some of the relief she was missing since he pulled away. 

Craning her neck, she opened her eyes just enough to find her husband standing between her legs as they dangled over the side of the table, his gaze trained to the apex of her thighs. Her eyes trailed over his form, the light sheen of sweat gleaming in the low light of the dining table as it slicked over the designs inked on his skin. His corded arms were tight and bunched as they worked below his waist line, the view of their ministrations obstructed from (Y/N)'s view with her bunched skirt in the way. Nonetheless, she could see the way his features were twisted into a look she knew well from their nights between the sheets, and hear the glide of his hand along his length to fill in the gaps of what was happening out of her line of sight. 

(Y/N) couldn't find it in herself to look away at the way the blocks this muscles moved under his tanned skin, and the flop of his curls as they fell over his forehead. Not even when Harry peered up at her through his lashes, something smug curling his lips with dimples that seemed much less innocent in that moment thumbing into the apples of his cheeks. He was all too happy to have her attention, wide eyes pinned to him and parted lips letting out ragged breaths that fought to form his name. His hand on his length slowed as he shuffled between her thighs, the sound of his shoes clicking over the tile underneath sounding like fireworks in the quiet of the house. His free hand landed on her hip then, the weight a buoy in that moment.

"Ready for me, precious?" he asked her just as she felt the first swipe of his prick through her folds, head nudging her clit. 

"Uh-huh," she keened, nodding her head, "Please, please, H." 

As soon as (Y/N) caught sight of the smug smile on his lips, she let her head fall back onto the wood of the table. She knew exactly what he was going to ask of her.

"You know how to ask me, darling." He never stopped teasing her as he spoke, even upping the stakes as he pressed his prick against her weeping hole. 

"But, H—" 

"Nu-huh, precious." She could imagine the way he shook his head as he spoke, knowing exactly the kind of torture he was putting her through when he started this game. "Jus' say it, and you'll have me. You know what I want." 

(Y/N) brows knitted together in the middle as she pouted. It wasn't like what he was asking for was hard to give him, but she didn't understand why she had to do all of these things when they both wanted the same thing. Besides, whenever she uttered those words, she felt her skin warm with her cheeks being the epicenter. Even now, years after the first time he ever coaxed the phrase from her, it made butterflies churn in her tummy and prod at her insides. 

"'S all you've got to do, then 'm yours," Harry persuaded her, emphasizing the truth with a gentle rock of his hips that nudged just the very tip of his cock into her clenched opening. 

That teasing push was enough to get (Y/N)'s jaw dropping. Whatever inhibitions she had barring her from abiding to his request dissolved in that moment and turned into another squeeze of her pussy at the thought of him inside. "Please, fuck me, H, please, please," she pleaded, swearing for him just as he wanted. 

"How?" 

Her eyes squeezed shut at the followup that came less than a moment after she let out her breathless pleads. "Hard, H," she told him, swallowing before continuing, "I want you to fuck me hard, Harry. I don't want to be able to look at our dinner table again without getting wet for you." 

When she won the battle to blink her eyes open to see if that was what he wanted from her, (Y/N) found Harry with his brows cinched in the middle and his tongue peeking out at the corner of his gaped mouth as he gazed down at her. She hooked her ankle around the back of his leg, urging him in a reminder of what he promised. 

"G-Good girl, darling," he told her, voice a breathless rumble, "Gave me jus' what I wanted, didn't you? 'M yours, now, yeah?" 

Before she could even fathom an answer, Harry gave a swift thrust of his hips and drove his cock through her soft insides. The slick sound of her pussy swallowing him filled the room as she fought to find her breath and any working train of thought that wasn't wobbly on its tracks. The help of his fingers inside her before allowed him to slip in without resistance despite the snug fit of her walls around him. 

Just as she had begged him barely minutes before, Harry gave her a moment to adjust to having him inside her before he reared back, leaving just the tip to warm inside her, and gave a hard thrust to bottom out again. The force knocked the breath out of her, back arching off the table and disrupting the wine glasses still balanced on the surface. She wanted to say his name—say anything—though nothing succeeded in making its way out of her throat, his forceful thrusts cutting that idea off before it even had a chance of budding in her head. 

"Jus' like y'wanted, darling? Am I giving it to y'hard enough?" Harry's words came out rocky as he balanced his hands on either side of her hips. 

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she whined in time with the strokes of his hips, her legs instinctively wrapping around him as he worked her. 

"Th-Then you've gotta do something for me, too, (Y/N)." 

She didn't even have to think before she was blindly agreeing to his terms. 

"Undo your dress for me, yeah?" he asked of her, hands squeezing her hips as his hips stuttered in their rhythm, "Let me see your tits." 

(Y/N) felt as if she was moving on autopilot as she unfurled her fingers from the mess of linen they were trapped in and frantically worked on the buttons fastening the top of her dress to her chest. With each clumsy undoing, more and more of her skin was exposed to the tapped air of the room, a layer of goosebumps raising with every brush of her fingertips over her bare skin. The satin cups of her plain white bra shone under the light, the fabric going champagne gold from the amber bulb.

As soon as she unbuttoned her dress down to the cream colored sash that wrapped around her waist, Harry flicked her hands out of the way with his own. His palm landed headily on the exposed skin of her stomach, his touch steady despite the unwavering pace of his hips thrusting into her. She felt his warmth bleed through the padding of her bra as he reached to pulled the cups down. The job was clumsy as he sent her bra askew, baring her breasts for him. He was quick to cup one of her breasts with his warm palm, thumb skimming the peek with his nail catching on the soft curve. 

Just as he squeezed around the soft flesh, he knocked her breathless with the help of a druggingly rough thrust of his hips. The tip of his cock nudged against the soft of her insides, far enough she couldn't even fathom how he managed to hit her tummy and still have more to give her. 

"H-Harry, oh my god!" she cried, the words falling from her mouth before she could properly find the air for them. Her thighs squeezed around his hips just as she felt her walls do around his prick, her entire body urging him to stay with her, to do that again. 

"'M here, darling. 'M taking care of you, don't worry, darling," he crooned to her, though he didn't quite sound as serene as he did when they started. "Gonna cum for me soon?" 

Though her mouth was dropped open in a gape, no words came out. She only managed to nod, hair fluttering against the wood grain of the table. If he just touched her a little more, ground his hips into hers harder, he was going to make her cum around him before she had a chance to even thread together a coherent thought. From the second he fit his hand between her legs and teased her all the while, she was gone for him, her body ready for just the right moment before unraveling the tight spool of ribbon growing in her tummy. 

"Need more f-from me, first?" he gritted out from a ticked jaw, (Y/N) able to imagine the hard line of his jaw just from memory as she couldn't manage to peek her eyes open in that moment. 

Back arched as he flicked his finger over her pointed nipple, (Y/N) found her voice in a breathy croon, "Pl-Please, touch me, Harry." 

She half expected him to keep up his unrelenting game, force her into telling him exactly where she wanted him to touch and how. But, when he instead peeled away his hand that had still been on her hip to keep her steady and placed it between their bodies, she could have cried at the instant satisfaction that followed as he smeared the pad of his thumb over her clit. 

The vase filled with flowers beside her and the nearly empty wine glasses on the table rattled around her as she keened into the touch, her hips bucking up to meet his hand and subsequently knock into his rocking motions of his own. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she bubbled off, the grated getting lost in her breathless murmurs but she couldn't help herself as they fell from her mouth. 

Harry didn't say anything, only driving his hips that much harder into her. His hand on her breast drifted from the gentle kneading he was giving to the flesh, traveling up the expanse of her collarbones until he found the column of her throat. Her pulse kicked up at the feel of his hand inching to wrap around the delicate curve. If he did what she was hoping, she had no chance; she was going to have no hope before she melted into a complete puddle and came for him before she had a moment to catch her breath. 

His thumb never ceased the circles he traced around her clit, following the tempo of his thrusts, as the hand on her neck turned stern. Long fingers wrapped around the curve of her throat, squeezing just enough that (Y/N) felt the pattern of her ragged breathing change to accommodate the new pressure. He choked her with a tender hand, finding the perfect grip that she'd come to love that made her head just a little too dizzy to think, putting her completely in the realm of his touch with no distractions. 

She heard static in her ears as she laid there at his mercy, his firm hand on her neck to match the rough motions of his hips and rubbing of her clit. Her toes curled at the small of his back as she hooked her ankles together and held his body to her as best she could with a wavering grip. It was on instinct as she brought her hands up to wrap around the wrist of his that was choking her, fingertips denting into his forearm though she didn't make any move to stop him or pull him off her. 

"S-So perfect, precious," he praised her, his thrusts going sloppy as she felt her own body beginning to unravel, "Taking it jus' like y'promised me, ar-aren't you? Such a good little wife for me—knew I married the right one." 

If she had the wherewithal to fully compute his praising, (Y/N) knew she would have keened into his touch and urged him to finish for the sole reason of feeling him cum and seeing the look on his face that only she could bring, but there was nothing working in her head as she felt as if her body was little more than one large nerve-ending. Turning her head, she pressed her cheek into the cool wood cushioning her body, a moment of clarity entering her mind at the chill. Blinking her eyes open, she was granted a wavering view out the sliding glass doors that led to their backyard, the beach off in the distance. The sky was dark, the sun having fallen ages ago when (Y/N)'s brain had still been between her ears. The stars were streaks in the ink of the sky, reflecting off the ocean waves that were soundtracked with the music of her heartbeat rushing through her ears. What a pretty sight to see, she aimlessly thought, a sea view while her husband choked her with the same hand she held every morning as she walked him to his car before work. 

Reaching with his forefinger to her jawline while his thumb pinched at the hinge, Harry turned her to face him, his palm still tight on her neck until he righted his grip. Shifting his hold, the leverage of his grip on her neck changed as she felt the telltale twitch of his cock inside her that told her he was just as close as she was. His gaze was clear as she matched it, the green especially bright though it was nothing more than a slim ring around his pupil. 

"Look at me when I make y'cum," he grumbled to her, raspberry lips deeply colored and swollen. 

Maybe it was his hand on her neck, or the feel of his cock making way between her snug walls, or the circles around her clit, but hearing Harry even say that he was going to make her cum, made her muddled brain decide that she had to do that now. She had to give him what he wanted now, as she didn't have any choice to stray from his demanding gaze and the unrelenting touch of him all around her. 

Before she had a chance to tell him anything, warn him that she was about to finish for him, the beginnings of a dimple dented into his cheek as a smug curl edged out on the corners of his mouth. He knew. 

"Gonna cum for me now, darling?" he prodded, voice low and deep though unsteady from his own impending pleasure. 

"Uh-huh," she keened, only able to choke that out around his hand. She swallowed, throat bobbing under his grip. "H-Harder, plea-ease." 

"Want me to choke y'harder, or fuck y'harder?" he pressed, Adam's apple bobbing before the tip of his tongue peeked out and ran along the full of his bottom lip.

"Ch-choke me harder," she told him, words a whisper.

Though the request was for something to make her unravel, Harry seemingly crumbled at the sound of her words, her small, breathy voice letting them linger between them. Nonetheless, he tightened his grip around her neck and kept working the rest of her body through the derailing of the pacing of his hips. 

Everything came to a head at once as she tried to suck in a breath that was hindered by the grip of his hand. His cock fucking through her walls and nudging her tender spot, thick thumb pressing harshly against her clit, and the firm hand on her neck. Her brain went fuzzy while she fought to keep her eyes open and maintain the eye contact Harry wanted from her, though she felt the bow tied tight in her stomach coming undone in a mess of ribbon. Static filled her head despite the way Harry lessened his hold on her throat as soon as he realized she was cumming for him, her body following after in pinpricks of pleasure that dotted her limbs in sparks of clarity that matched the stars painting the sky outside their door. 

"Harry," she moaned, the call hoarse and fragile as it rolled off her tongue. Her legs around his waist tugged him tight enough to her that he couldn't move from where he had bottomed out inside her. 

Though he stilled his hips and his hand was nothing more that a steadying warmth at the hollow of her throat, he still worked the bud of her clit in soft circles through her orgasm. He was her safe place to land as she came down with a flutter of her eyes falling closed and chest heaving with the breaths she'd been fighting to suck in since she found herself seated on this table. 

His hand on her neck trailed up to cradle her cheek in a tender hold, thumb petting along the height of her cheekbone. He waited for her descent back down to earth with him, only moving his hips in soft rocks that he couldn't help but make when the cradle of her legs around his waist loosened. 

"Y'alright, precious?" he asked her once she found the energy to blink her eyes open. 

Despite how tender and gentle he was being with his wife, (Y/N) watched as his nose flared with heaving breaths and his hair was pasted to his temples with the help of the sweat that also covered his body. The waves of curls on the top of his head were a mess, the gel he'd left the house with nonexistent in the heat of the room. His lips were swollen from their rounds of kissing as well as the blunt ends of his teeth digging into the pillows. He still needed to cum, and he was close to it if the set of his jaw was anything to go by. 

"Y-Yes, but—" she stuttered, dropping her hands from around his forearm only to tug her ruffled skirt out of Harry's way, "It-It's your turn now, Harry." 

A muscles in his jaw jumped, the hinge tightening at the sound of her words. "Is it, now?" he asked her with the lids of his eyes dropping low over his gaze, "Want to see me cum for you?" 

Before she could thread together any kind of response, her head was nodding on instinct, frantic jerks. "Please, let me watch you cum, H." 

A murmured curse left his mouth as his brows came into a pinch above his eyes, his eyelids winning out as they fell closed as he let out a deep breath. She watched as the white tips of his teeth peeked out and sunk into his bottom lip just as he gaze one more lingering pet of his thumb over her cheekbone before pulling away. He stood tall over her, chest bare with his pants undone just enough to pull his cock out. (Y/N)'s eyes never strayed as he slowly pulled out of her, her walls clenching around nothing as she adjusted without him, a whine caught in her throat. 

Craning her neck, she was allowed a short view as he wrapped his fist around his cock, his hand having been covered in her slick from petting over her clit. Wet sounds filtered through the space as he stroked his cock in a pace that rivaled the harsh thrusts he delivered to his wife. Harry's face was contorted in a kind pleasure she felt lucky to see without lust too thick to breathe through addled her brain, and eyes clear enough to document every crease and curve to his features. 

"Gonna cum on your pussy, darling. Is that alright?" he asked her, his explanation floating on a short breath between them though he never drew his gaze away from the sensitive folds between her legs. 

A jerky nod acted as (Y/N)'s answer, the movement almost as frantic as Harry's hand over his cock. She watched as his prick twitched in his hand, the muscles of Harry's stomach tight and pronounced under the warm lighting. All it took was a swipe of his thumb over his weeping head before a rumbling groan built in his chest and streaks of cum spurted from his cock. The warmth landed in ropes (Y/N) couldn't see but felt as they painted over her intimacy, mixing with the slick that coated her slit. Harry threw his head back and let out a call of her name towards the ceiling as his chest heaved, the skin tinted a flushed pink. He came in thick spurts, his hand fisted over his prick helping to work out each rope until nothing was left but short drips that fell to the floor and his cock was too sensitive to touch.

Harry's body get languid as he came down, riding that wave until it brought him back to shore, sun-kissed and relaxed. Rolling his neck, he looked to (Y/N) with a canted head and tender smile that matched the way his eyes traced over her form. 

"C'mere, precious," he murmured, reaching towards her hands that were stiffly curled into her dress. 

(Y/N) didn't even think before she gave him her hands, uncaring of their shared cum that covered his palms. She was sure they were going to shower together after this, anyway. She sat up, her dress falling to cover to her knees with the hem dipping into the mess between her legs, though she didn't pay it any mind. All she cared about then was the way Harry dipped his head down to match his lips to hers as soon as he was given the opportunity. 

Nothing was frantic about the contact, only soothing presses of their lips. A quiet reminder that he liked being rough with her only because of these tender moments they shared afterwards. He soothed her self-bitten lips and threaded their fingers together in a grip that felt like a feather compared to the way he had held her steady as he fucked into her only moments earlier. (Y/N) preened at the feel of him and all of his careful energy around her, feeling just as loved as she did with his hand around her neck. 

Harry trailed his kisses down from her mouth and down the line of her neck until he found the slightly reddened skin that detailed just where his hand had been prior. He planted a garden of kisses that followed the line of each of his fingers and the span of his palm in gentle presses.

"I know y'asked me to, but I didn't choke y'too hard, did I?" he asked though his words melted into her skin. He didn't bother to pull away from her neck before he spoke, only muttering between the dragging kisses he granted to the delicate skin. 

"No, no," (Y/N) rushed, shaking her head before she squeezed his hands in her own, "I liked it, H. I promise. I might have to use a little makeup tomorrow in case anything makes a mark, but I promise I really liked it. Thank you for doing that for me." 

His smile could be felt against her neck, a gentle curve. "I love you, darling." 

Unlacing her fingers from between his, she brought them up to cradle his cheeks as she pulled him up to face her. "I love you, too, H. There's no one I'd rather have come home to me." 

Affection gleamed in the green of his eyes before they were shuttered as he pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth. 

(Y/N) indulged in the contact for only a moment before something tickled at her senses. Her brows furrowed as she tried to pinpoint the niggling at the back of her mind that was triggered with the smell of... caramel? No, no, this was much deeper than that. It almost smelled like something was burning—or burning more, anyway. 

As soon as the realization hit her, (Y/N) went stock still where she sat at the table. 

Harry pulled away with concern painted over his gaze though (Y/N) only looked over his shoulder. She struggled then to somehow fix the top of her dress while scrambling to hop off the counter. 

Harry stayed a steady wall between her and the rest of the house as she rushed, hands on her hips and face forcing into her field of view so she had to look at him. "Precious, what's wrong? Are—"

"Harry, the pie! I left it in the oven!"

(Y/N) couldn't find it in her to be even a little annoyed at the sound of her husband's laughter that then filled the house. She loved the melody almost as much as she loved him, even if it was at the expense of their dessert. 

With the sound echoing though her ears as she slipped on a pair of oven mitts and extracted the bubbling black, burnt confection, (Y/N) decided that she'd burn a hundred more of them if his laughter was her reward. 

—————

this idea ofc was super inspired by the dwd trailer ofc ofc but then when hsh came out and The Line in keep driving happened I put it all together!! thank u sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes!! please please if you have any ideas or requests people sen them in!!

[crismakesstuff]

im so excited for invincible s2b now that it has an official release date… and that release date is march 14th

Let me talk about why that has me worried for the future of the show

‼️also no hate to any other shows mentioned‼️

I want to start with these two images :

invincible compared to the boys and now hazbin hotel has BARELY gotten any offical advertising on this level. The boys also got ads in times square for the promotion of s3 and the spin-off gen v im pretty sure but I could be wrong.

Don’t get me wrong I am rly happy to see an animated show get promotion at that level and I think more streaming services should do the same but why is it that invincible, a show on its SECOND SEASON gets nothing? The official invincible accounts have to do most of the heavy lifting themselves with generating hype on their twt,insta and tiktok. People complain that the accounts often make “an announcement for the announcement” but they have too! They literally have no other option! It sucks to see invincible show signs of a show thats clearly being tampered with by executive fuckery that has led so many other animated shows to an early grave.

Also I NEED people to realize that invincible’s release schedule NOT THE FAULT OF THE CREW

I see people regularly being rude and borderline aggressive to crew members online (which ive seen happen in other fandoms too) but the amount of people that were bitching and whining about the hiatus saying things like “this is why we shouldn’t let animators have good working conditions” and people agreeing with those takes were INSANE. The crew have no control over when the show drops or not, that is a decision left up to executives.

Now why could this delay be happening ?

a little bit ago amazon made this announcement to its customers:

this very well lines up with what many people began to speculate online as to why invincible had such a weird release schedule for season 2. They release the first half and get people hooked on the first 4 episodes ending on a massive cliffhanger and then release the second half after ads are introduced in hopes of making more money bc ppl don’t want ads in the middle of their shows.

Even then many people (myself included) think that it would’ve ultimately been better for the sake of the shows own hype to just wait to release them in March back to back all 8 episodes. Because the midseason break just kneecapped the hype the show had built up so hard and now many people are reasonably frustrated.

Because there was no clarity on when the show would be back. Most people assumed it would be a month long break for the holidays which shows have done for a long time. And then fake leaks came out that the show would come back in early January, and then the invincible accounts were virtually silent, and people were saying the break was intentional for fans to (recover) for ep 4. It was all over the place

What should fans do going forward?

Best thing you can do is stream the show legally if you can! TALK about invincible, don’t let the hype die out. Get this shit on trending ! Boost any official posts online showing that there is still a demand for this show! If you can, buy merch! Read the comics legally ! LET AMAZON KNOW WE STILL CARE ABOUT THIS SHOW!

again no hate to the other shows here bc ive watched all of them! I just want invincible to get some of that love too because this show is so amazing and you can tell how much love the crew has put into it <3

[roo-bastmoon]

With 17 versions to buy and 8 versions combined for 160 streams per Spotify account, plus Melon and FLO streams now counting, of course Jungkook’s Seven is charting high and sweeping awards. Firstly because it’s Jungkook of course, and secondly because it’s been given every possible advantage.

My (perhaps controversial) opinions about that are below the cut.

Honestly? I really can’t feel good about any “first” or “most” or “fastest” records achieved by this single—catchy as it is—which wasn’t written or conceived by Jungkook and has nothing much personal or deeply meaningful about it. It’s a fun feel-good summer pop song, for sure, but no more groundbreaking than, say, Bad Decisions (in my opinion… I have no musical expertise.)

But I can’t feel super great about all the records and awards because this many versions immediately restocked and shipped and auto play and promoted to radio and ads and leadership hyping only this while Jungkook says he wants to be the one and only artist to conquer kpop and pop for the next thousand years… it all just doesn’t really sit right with me.

When compared to the 10 months Jimin forewent sleep, food, and showers to have a hand in every aspect of his first (and deeply personal and symbolic) album, which was never sent to radio or restocked, got split tracks and delayed playlisting and shady articles, plus not one kudos or congratulations from leadership even after he made history for South Korea and stocks soared…

Forgive me, but it all leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It is ruining the song for me.

Some things like culled streams and sales are out of the company’s control. But the things I mentioned above were all possible for Jimin’s Hot 100 #1. Even if every Tannie has total say in their projects' sales and marketing, and everyone was on board with only Jungkook getting the Hybe America "red carpet" treatment, I can’t lie and say the stark difference feels fine. It doesn't, and I confess I leave the headphones in every time Seven comes up in the playlists now.

I’m not jealous. If anything, I have a warped sense of pride that Jimin has done so fantastically well despite so many, many obstacles stacked against him. I love to champion an underdog and I’m glad I never need to doubt his success was organic. I actually feel extra admiration for how humble and hardworking he continues to be—no resting on any laurels for the It Boy. I'm so glad he is my ult-bias.

*sigh*

Listen to me.

I know Jungkook and Jimin are both genuinely good people. I know they are sincerely talented and hard working. I know they truly love each other. I know all members are legitimately happy for each others' success.

I know what’s important to me may not be important to them, nor what they want for their careers. And even if I feel their company’s making shitty decisions, I know my place as a fan.

So I trust them. And I simply hang in. I hope lessons were learned for smoother, fairer future releases. Because neglecting assets makes zero business sense, and perceived favoritism can erode the group’s bonds and tear ARMY apart. It is, frankly, just plain stupid.

So I may dislike things about their solo era rollouts and I can't bring myself to sugar-coat it; but I mostly try to keep my negative thoughts to myself and find things I CAN celebrate with other fans on an open timeline.

I never want another Tannie to feel anguished and misunderstood the way Hobi did about JitB’s physicals.

Watching Jungkook’s face here on his London live when he talks about people hating him just haunts me. It guts me. I can't stand it. That kid was going through it and I don't believe he has a malicious bone in his body, so it just really upsets me seeing him like that.

There’s so, so much about this company, this industry, this culture that I just don’t understand. But I trust Park Jimin completely. As long as Park Jimin loves and supports his members, God knows, I will too.

So!! On that note...

We have Jungkook’s birthday to celebrate next week and Taehyung’s album to support the week after that. I’m going to do my best to rest up and gather some good energy for these things!

And of course, we must congratulate our Jimin, who made history again today, and no matter what, will always set the standard. I just know he's cooking up something else for us with all these weeks of silence, and I cannot wait to go BERSERK for it whenever it drops.

I’m not really sure I had a point to this post. It’s just that I have been mulling all this over for a long time, and finally felt well enough to sit up long enough to come online and type up my thoughts.

I guess what I mostly wanted to share with my friends here is that it’s okay to feel really disappointed and even enraged at the way some things play out over the (hopefully life-long) careers of BTS members. Don't let folks gaslight you. Call it like you see it. (Maybe keep sensitive things behind a cut or in the DMs--and of course, please change your mind if you get better insight. In the end, only the Tannies really know what's going on with the Tannies.)

But while I’m still side-eyeing the company so hard right now, I’ve decided to love and support the boys as people and artists. I'm trying to believe the best in everyone. I’m still an OT7 Jikooker.

You don’t have to agree with me, and if you need to unfollow, I understand. But I figured I should just tell you guys (especially the new followers) where I am at with all this.

Love, Roo

[undercoverpena]

iii. file room + accusations

javier peña x dea! f!reader | chapter three of nowhere to run

Summary: Determined to do it better this time, Javier Peña returns to Bogotá to take down the Cali Cartel. With a new promotion, office and team, what he doesn’t expect is the pretty thing outside his office—or why they’re not allowed in the field. chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers, no use of y/n, flirting to the highest level. wordcount: 5.8k an: thank you for your patience, none of this chapter existed three days ago, but i think it was necessary for how... spicy the next one will be. as always, a huge thank you to @guyfieriii who let me hammer this idea out with her, and @yeyinde who fills me with absolute confidence to take this on.

“You have fun last night?”

Stirring your cup, you turn your head. “We went for one drink—” 

“Are you fucking Van Ness?” 

You throw the spoon into the sink, glaring—full of poisoned accusation, hoping it stings, hoping it bites. 

Chris has always been a little jealous, and a little bitter. But this side of him, the side grown from the decay of what once was…

“Believe it or not, people of the opposite sex can just be friends.”

“Like we were?” 

You scoff, almost going to grab your coffee when his hand touches your wrist.

“Sorry… that was,” Chris sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes. “I’m sorry, alright?”

“You’re being an asshole.”

“I know.” 

Leaning back on the counter, you stare at him. The man you used to share a bed with, cook with, sleep with—finding yourself unable to recognise him. The same amount you barely were able to recognise yourself these days. 

“Just because we went for a drink, doesn’t mean I fucked him. I don’t fuck people just because they buy me drinks, if anything, I fuck them in spite of buying me things.” 

Lowering his hand, he opens his eyes. “I know… I just…”

You motion to move, hearing his words die as you hold his gaze. “Do us both a favour, Chris, get over us or stop trying to be my friend.”

It was a last-minute decision to get you coffee. 

A thought which nestled until it bloomed and spread itself over all the others. You’d been on his mind, likely put there because of his dreams. 

Javi had become so used to the smoky blend of violence and regret in his nightmares, it caught him by surprise long after he awoke that something good had been trying to form. Something with a sly smile that had slowly been driving him wild and a pair of eyes he saw even when he blinked. 

His bed creaked as he stretched, shoving the leftover hold of sleep from his muscles. 

He turns over how you’d not seemed like yourself yesterday. How quiet you were, how distant. You’d made two visits to his office, both for actual work purposes. He’d thought of asking, of questioning—but each time he’d found himself about to, you had a visitor at your desk. 

As time had ticked on, the night bludgeoning the day, he’d watched as you packed up your things, met by one of the other agents—tall and dark-haired—pulling a short laugh from you. 

He spent the next hour buried in case files just so he wouldn’t focus on the sound. And how he hadn’t pulled that same sound from you all day.

Now, as streams of sunlight flicker through his curtains, he reaches for his lighter and cigarettes. About to light one, a thought appearing and growing—rotting and festering in the empty space he’s carved for you.

Maybe you’re his delayed punishment.

His price to pay for what he did last time he was here. He thinks of you more than he does others—more than he has done with others. 

You are a torture, a thing put here in front of him as something he could have once, and never again. A reminder of it each time you sway into his office. How he’d tasted you, he’d felt your curves and heard your pretty noises. Now only for him to be locked in a prison of his own making because of it.

Because he’s forever interrupted by phone calls, meetings and whatever else life has—and will—throw his way. 

As he takes a drag, the point and thought cements itself further, because Javi doesn’t dream.

He relives nightmares and what-ifs, but he rarely ever dreams. Yet, there you were, smiling, pulling him from a nightmare into something more pleasant he didn’t want to wake from. You who hadn’t even fully formed, a shadow, an outline at best, but you’re there, he can tell. All pretty and sharp-tongued—not that he’s heard dream-you even speak, but he knows. 

Knows about the same amount as he knows he should turn the water in the shower a bit colder. Should let it sting his chest from how icy it is, trying to cage the thoughts of you he shouldn’t have. 

Because there’s a lesson to be learnt about shitting when he’s eating—and he’s already failed it twice. 

So, he lets his chin dip to his chest as water cascades down his neck, letting freezing droplets smother any chance of warmth. Because even if he shouldn’t, even if he couldn’t—technically—you’re in his head. 

Secretly, he blames you. Blames each quick retort you’ve had and each flirtatious sentence which continuously hangs in the air longer than anything else. 

Mainly, he blames you for the things you’re not at fault for. Like your smile, your laugh and the way you tap your pen on the desk when you’re lost in thought. 

That softer smile is the one in last night's dreams. Embedding itself firmly in the few hours he’s managed to catch in a while. The edges of it are genuine, exactly like it was in person—looking as much like it was born and not willed, as he’s seen in the flesh. You owe me a coffee. He thought about it as he lay in his sheets, again when he lit his first cigarette and on repeat in the shower.

It’s why he buys you one—it’s cemented in his thoughts. 

Front and fucking centre. 

By the time he makes it to work, his forehead is slightly slick with sweat. Barely noticeable to most, he supposes, but he feels it. His determination to catch you before the rest filter in, able to confidently present you with your inside joke right at your desk. 

It would mean he’s the instigator. It would mean he’d see you taken back, rendered silent for fucking once. 

Because normally, it’s you doing that to him. You and your quick wit make him roll his tongue around his mouth as he tries to control his body. 

Usually, he was in control. He was the one making others stupid over him—it’s different being on the other side. More so when he catches sight of himself in the reflection of the glass door, the smirk large and proud on his face. 

All because of fucking you. 

And then, you’re not at your desk.

His tongue pokes into his cheek as he inwardly kicks himself, heart descending down to his stomach—thumping against nothingness and last night's whiskey. 

He contemplates binning them as he moves past the desks. Throwing it before someone sees him with two coffees and a piece of fruit. Annoyance spreads like a wildfire through him, singeing the edges of muscles and bones. It layers, landing firmly on top of the shit from Cornerstone, the conversation with Stechner and—

He sees you. 

Like the sun which bleeds through clouds on a rainy day; like a torch through thick, sullen darkness. There you are.

Able to see you clearer and clearer on his approach, until he’s peering through his open door, spotting you on your knees, head bent. There’s an array of paper around you, placed out in a semi-circle on his office floor, an empty file box discarded close to the door. You don’t notice him, still fixated on whatever it is that has you in his office. 

You don’t even lift up when he’s at the doorway, casting a shadow over the papers. 

“You’re in early.”

Smirking, he leans against the doorway, watching you shift a paper to the side. Remaining bent over, finger tapping in a rhythmic pattern against a page closest to your hand. 

“And you’re in my office, cariño.”

He expects you to look up, even if just your eyes. You don’t. 

Another notch adding to the enigma that is you. The mystery, the hard-to-read and understand puzzle that is currently on your knees.  

“I needed the space.”

“For?”

That’s when you lift your head, sighing—if only to yourself—before slowly standing. You don’t groan, and don’t let out a noise as you do, shifting your trousers so they fall as they’re supposed to. Then, you’re awkwardly stepping over your pile as you come to stand beside him. 

“Personal project—that for me?” 

You take it before he can confirm it, taking a large gulp of it, filling the air with a groan. A sound which tugs something inside of him, even if your eyes remain fixed on the mess on his floor and not him. 

It’s childish—almost like he was back in school. Staring at the pretty girl until she notices him. But you are pretty, and fuck does he wish you’d notice him. 

“Thanks.” 

Something sinks. 

He’s not sure what, but it’s in his chest. 

Somehow, foolishly, he’d expected a little more from the gesture. The fact you’d been more grateful when he’d returned a pen, than grabbing you coffee. That, and your eyes barely meet his, continuing to turn something over in your mind as you take another sip. 

It’s silent, your silent—outside of the occasional sighs you let escape.  

Realistically, he knows you’re not being your usual self because you’re likely doing your job—something in the short span of time he’s known you, he knows you do well. But, it feeds into that… feeling. The one he woke up with when you’d left. Rejection. 

Something he’s experienced before—been through. Yet, never really learnt how to handle it.

How often are you told no, Peña? Rarely. I can believe that.  You want another drink? Can’t say no, can I?

It rattles him more because it’s you. You who has made him do things like this. He wanted to make you smile, wanted to show you that he fucking listened. 

Even if you confuse him. Bouncing from one minute flirting with him as he tries to be decent, fighting the feeling of the beads of sweat collecting on his collar. The next you’re staring through him as though you’d rather skin him than fuck him. 

He can’t say any of that, not as he massages his inner cheek between his teeth. Eyes staring at the pages, noticing the manilla case files poking out underneath all the stark white papers. 

He’s itching to get closer. To read the number on the side strips, see what it is that has stolen your attention. 

Instead, he nudges you. Watching as you lift your chin in his direction. Your eyes are the last to rise from the floor. Your face all blank and expressionless—appears as if you’re awaiting instruction from him for something. He sees the circles under your eyes, the rest of your face devoid of anything he can dissect. It almost feels as if he’s trying to read the wall, rather than a person who has made him copious cups of coffee. 

“You need me to move?”

He snorts, if only to himself. “No. But you’re quiet...”

Shooting him a short nod, you offer a forced smile. “Sorry.”

He feels something knot, something which makes it hard to take a step back and turn away from you. Something urging him to push, to keep standing there, even if he would get more from the water cooler.

“Hey… you good?” 

You eye him, brows narrowing ever so slightly. “Yes. Of course...” 

He nods. “Good. Okay, good.”

You turn more to face him, frowning as you try but find yourself unable to discern whatever it is you’re looking for—not that he knows what you’re searching for. 

He’s confused, prickled—tense. But nothing else. 

“Did you think I wouldn’t be or something?” 

You seem upset. Distracted. 

That’s what he wants to say. Wants to try and unpick the reason for your sharper gaze, raised shoulders and the almost box of files on his office floor.

Likely would if it didn’t allow you to know that he watches you, even through the blinds. That he knows these little things, the small shifts in your otherwise carefully constructed set of walls and barriers to keep everyone out. 

“I expected you to give me more shit… about the fruit, the coffee. Be difficult.”

You smirk, leaning as you run the cup under your nose. “I can be difficult if you need me to be, sir.” 

Your smile slowly spreads, more teeth than you’ve shown—more laid-back. It stretches from your cheeks to your eyes. His tongue runs across the front of his teeth, watching it, how it illuminates and lights every part of you. 

“Somehow, I bet you can be.”

Shrugging, you take a sip from the coffee again—eyes narrowing ever so slightly at the taste. 

He did good, he thinks. Knowing you likely won’t admit it, acknowledge it—

“This is good…”

He feels his brow rise, wiping his bottom lip. “Yeah?”

“Almost as good as you… sir.”

You watch him, make sure it lands. Watch it spread. Likely enjoying the show too. He can’t hide it, not quick enough to mask it. Not that he really puts much effort into trying.

It’s futile, a waste of energy and time.

He’s even sure you hear him inhale and whisper the word fuck as your phone rings.

“I’ll tidy this up in a minute, excuse me.”

Then you’re gone. Leaving him with your words and perfume, hearing the distinct sweet and, most innocent voice. 

A voice which didn’t fit or follow what you had just said. 

He’d never thought Messina’s job looked fun, but he never realised how unbearable it must have been. 

Javi’s head throbs from it. 

All of it. The meetings about meetings, the bureaucracy which wraps ropes around his throat and the fact—even if he’s not in the room—he can feel Stechner breathing down his neck. 

Something pulses more so when he meets your smirk-smile. The one he was robbed of enjoying yesterday, but today has got it in plenty. He puts it down to the coffee, not the possibility he heard you went out for a drink with another agent last night. 

Fresh air washes over him as he steps out of the building. The stuffy boardroom air uncurling itself from his suit as the grey, cloudy day hangs around him. Normally, he finds the humidity tiresome, but today it greets him like a friend. A better friend than pompous air breathed by men who want an easy win, than fight the actual fight that’s necessary. 

It’s habit again now, lighting a cigarette, even if he had tried to quit. His fingers hover the cigarette close to his lips, watching the end sparkle with orange and yellow as he releases his shoulders from around his ears. 

Bad habit, that.  So are you. You don’t mean that, sir. 

Taking the longest drag, he lets it fill his lungs. 

Hearing your voice call him sir, it is always faintly there—a callback, a reminder. A tease. 

He didn’t mean it, you’d been right. Didn’t mean it so much at all. Even if you were bad and a habit, you weren’t a bad habit.

Javi kept thinking about that night, and the ones he could have enjoyed after. Thoughts of taking you back to his and seeing how many times he can make you call his name; whether you’d beg him in that same way, please, Javi, please. 

It’s taken all of his strength not to act on it. 

Something to prove fizzing inside of him, blending with the taste and scent of tobacco which bleed across his senses. It slowly undoes each tendril of stress, unknotting each tense muscle, allowing the briefest second of calm—of peace—to wash over him. 

Sex did that too. 

Sex, whiskey and smokes did it all together. A perfect blend—one which had kept him going for longer than he cared to admit before. 

He didn’t smoke the night he fucked you. Hadn’t even realised he hadn’t until he smoked this one—acknowledging there’s a deeper meaning there, but unwilling to unfold it.

No good came from digging inside himself, not now. Not when his walls are painted in red shame and bitter regrets. 

He’d thought things were easier then. 

Before, when he didn’t have people answering to him, and he had a partner. He had a person to share a desk space with. Now, he’s behind glass—placed on a mantle, eyes looking up to him when they should be looking down. The pressure nipping at him, the smoke swirling up to his nose as he hovers the cigarette on his lip.

It’s at the last minute he catches the blonde woman coming closer, more into his view. Right in his peripheral. “Can I get one of those?”

Her non-embassy attire catches him off guard, before she introduces herself. Eyes raking up and down her, unsure where he knows her from—where he’d place her. Something, that voice he continuously ignores, firing and chirping, but he does what he always does. 

Javi should have known. He’s trained to be better. Expected to do better. 

Churning her name, the newspaper she works for in his head as he lets his smoke dangling from his lip. Already waiting, expecting. She was a reporter, she’d have questions. More than asking him for a cigarette and more than a simple chat about the weather. 

Then it falls from her tongue. Acidic, purposefully chosen to knock him—to bother him.

It does. Especially because she casually throws them his way. Him left feeling them figuratively land and bruise as she did. Each accusation not spoken, feels sharper and more painful than the previous, his cigarette doing nothing to stoke the rising shame and annoyance. 

If anything, it just covers it in tobacco smoke and a bitter taste. 

“Have a nice day—”

“Have you heard much about the Cali accident? Four more people dead. Children. Dozens more sick.”

The reporter's words swirl, peck and dig into him further. His sharp response is not close to the one he wants to give: I cannot get involved. His place here is tied securely to his behaviour. One wrong step, one misfortune, and he’s sure he’ll be back in Texas. Having accomplished nothing, once again.

“Looks like you said, it was an accident.”

The lie falls from him before he can pull it back. Knowing she doesn’t believe him—he doesn’t even believe himself. 

She snorts, half-laughing in mockery. “By the end of the day, it will be. No matter what the truth is.” 

The itch inside of him worsens when she turns from him. Fingers rolling against his palm, making him wish he’d finished his cigarette irrespective of the questioning and insinuations. The imaginary rope that ties his hands behind his back, constricting, stinging. 

His palm meets his forehead, rubbing against it as he heads in. Feet carrying him, body moving—

He needs you.

You who he could vent to, ask, merely fucking speak to. You who’d likely see through his bullshit and know something is wrong. You who he suspects understands, for reasons not highlighted in your report or in any file. Who stared into his eyes in that bar and made him wonder what hell you’d been through for the vengeance to live so prominently in your eyes. 

He comes to a stop, blinking as he lands on you, glaring into Feistl. 

The two of you huddled close, engaged in a discussion that didn’t look all too friendly. Your eyes gave it away, the forced smile confirming it. So much of your thoughts flitted across your face when you weren’t careful—and usually, you were careful. 

That’s something he learnt quickly. That you’re secretive, cautious, meticulous. 

When he blinks, he watches you say something before walking away before it’s fully landed. His jaw tightens, almost cracks. Eyes fixed on the back of the other agent, unable to tear his eyes away, watching you throw something in the sink, mutter something and storm in the other direction. 

He shouldn’t care. 

He’d learnt to avoid problems between couples with Connie and Murphy. He supposes it’s even more important to stay out of it when they were exes. Ones who worked closely with one another, shared office space and breathed the same air. 

He does care. 

It’s the only reason why he waits, almost reaching his office before he turns on his heels and heads in the direction you’ve gone. 

With each step, he swipes his index finger over the pad of his thumb, unsure what he’s going to say. What he’s going to do. Thrumming with annoyance from the outside; protectiveness swirling with a bunch of other unresolved feelings inside of him. 

It makes no sense—none of it. Yet the door squeals in protest as he shoves it open. 

Dropping your hand from your face, your eyes greet him instantly—the door barely back in its frame before you’ve hidden how wide and surprised they were. 

He doesn’t speak, but neither do you. 

And then, slowly—as though they were the physical embodiment of your walls coming down—your arms folded and your eyes narrowed. All he did was simply fucking stare, all he could do. 

There’s nothing he can say. Not that would make any sense—not to him, or to you. So, he allows the heaviness of the conversation outside and the annoyance that had grown in its place, to slowly dissipate as he stares and breathes, letting you do the same.

The tension thickens. Almost softly simmering between the two of you.

There’s no music thrumming this time, no alcohol to blame for the kinder expressions and wider grins. He just focuses on trying not to pay attention to it, but in the smaller space, it’s harder to ignore. It sits there grinning with its shiny teeth, its mocking behaviour taunting him, as he wonders if it’s the same for you. 

And then, you smile as if you can read his thoughts. It's instant, the way it smothers other emotions. Dilutes them, makes his tongue run across his teeth as he lets the stress melt from his shoulders and back. 

“I know what you’re gonna say?”

Looking at the floor, you snort. “I doubt that.”

“It’s none of my fucking business, right?” he adds, your eyes staring at him through your brows. “But, it looked heavy and I needed to ask—wanted to ask.”

“I’m fine.”

He gnaws at other words. Deciding quickly against them, swallowing them back, and switching to the next set of things he could say. 

“You told me you’d take the mountain of shit for me—hold the walls up. Remember?”

“Faintly.”

Lie, he thinks. It flutters across your face, the acknowledgement, how easily you’re able to recall it. He takes that as his invitation. Stepping closer, he watches as you unfold your arms.

“Who does that for you, cariño?” 

Your mouth—so usually the quicker one out of the two of you—clamps shut. Any quick remark fizzling into nothing as your chest rises and falls significantly, likely all from a silent sigh. 

“I promise I’m—“

“Don’t lie,” Javi adds, interrupting you. “Not to me.” 

Please, he thinks. But, he keeps that silent request to himself—even if it’s likely he’s spelling it with his eyes, his softer expression. 

You shift, eyes fluctuating between softening and sharpening. As if unsure whether to let him in—and be honest, trusting—or ruin him. He just hopes it's the former. Feeling it—that something which thrums in the air whenever he’s around you. The thing he’d rather bury than confront. 

Even if he likes being near you. Likes how you make him coffee, visit his office and tell him things he already knows. Just to be near you. To make sure you’re okay because you so often make sure he is. 

Your eyes narrow. “What’s happened?”

“What?”

Tilting your head, you sigh. “You went out for a smoke—“

“How’d you kn—“

Smirking, you lick your lips. “You’re not the only one with a pair of eyes, Peña. What. Happened?” Blowing out air, you shake your head. “I’m not stupid—”

“—I don’t think you’re—”

“And, you want me to tell you things, and you can’t even tell me what happened outside to make you this riled up.” 

He lets you have that one. Nodding gently, running his hands through his hair as he contemplates it—telling you. Informing you of it all. How Martínez doesn’t trust him, that the reporter outside…

Looking up, he stares at you. 

You are the face of ruination. Your eyes able and powerful enough to bring him to his knees. Already unspooling him, having dug under a layer he’s never allowed many others.

So he decides against sharing, instead smirking.

Not for reasons such as him not trusting you, but because this isn’t about him. It was always about him. You made it about him, whenever you fucking could, just like it had been before. Back when he had Steve, when he made catching Escobar about him. When he convinced himself he was doing what was right. 

He’d do it again—parts of it, anyway. But he still wanted this to be different, to be better, to be—

“How y’sleeping?” 

You blink, almost wincing from surprise. “Fine.” “Don’t lie.”

“How do you know I’m not sleeping?” 

Swiping his thumb across his bottom lip, he shrugs. “Because I know I don’t. More here, than I did in Texas. But… not like before. Nothing close to the hours I got before Escobar.” 

He watches your eyes widen at his name. The one he so rarely says, even when questioned. 

The one which makes a muscle in his chest tighten when he hears the name, fighting to not let the guilt and shame run through his blood at the mere mention. 

“I know I have no idea what you went through. But, I’d get it—try to, at least.”

It flashes like a rainstorm over your face. The heaviness of the clouds and then the downpour—and before he can get an umbrella out, it’s over. Javi isn’t quick enough to work out each expression. Not sure if he’s miles off or so close to the thing unravelling you, that he’s rendered you silent. 

You roll your lips, before whispering, “I don’t sleep either.” 

He blinks, staring at you as you try to force a smile and he moves closer. 

Like the two of you are being drawn together, pulled. It is all another dance, one without music, a beat or lyrics, and yet, you lift your hand to his cheek. Some words forming, that never appear. A different expression cracked over the former, one that he wasn’t sure he'd seen before. 

He tries to paint it, carve it into a space so he can unpick its meaning later—knowing how quick you are to wipe your canvas clean. But, your eyes flick over him, looking for something as he slides a hand over your hip, feeling you hunting. He feels the warmth stroke from his eyes to his lips, and back again. 

The thread, the one which had begun being sewn between the seats at the bar, was tightening and it tugged the two of you closer and closer, until he felt you—your lips. 

You’re kissing him. 

Hands pressed on both sides of his cheeks as you brought his mouth down to yours. Devastating him, ruining him all over again. Everything about you is intense. Consuming. Spanning over him and tugging him under in thick waves he’s not sure where they came from. 

All he can focus on is how good it feels to kiss you again. 

How soft your lips are, how he didn’t take the time to appreciate it before. How today you’re a mix of sugary lips and a bitter coffee tongue. 

He guides you, moving you behind the shelves—more out of view, the softest huff escaping your lips when your back meets the shelving. One he captures and stores, holding it closely as he pulls you tighter against him. Almost desperately so. You scorch yourself against him, hoping to leave something on him you’ll be able to see—something he welcomes. Some proof that you’re not too far out of reach as he groans at the sensation of your nails scraping through his hair and your mouth burning against his. 

It’s messy, disorientating—but, so are you. 

His tongue licking up into your mouth, hearing the discernible sound of a moan smothered by both your mouths as the shelving creeks when your spine presses against it. 

It’s natural, well-versed—like it was in his place. His thigh slotting between both your legs, hearing his name leave your lips in a whimper, all wrapped inside of a groan that has been born somewhere deep in your throat. 

Then it turns slower, gentle, languid. His head swimming in you, and only you. A hand up your spine curling you closer; your hand sliding from his hair and cheek to his neck. 

“Cariñ—“

The squeal of the door yanks the two of you apart.

His heart hammers, fucking thunders as your back flattens to the shelves, his feet making him step back—hidden behind more shelving. 

Someone from the doorway yells your name, not a voice he’s familiar with. 

They’re sharp, gruff, far enough away to not know, but if they stepped in the room… 

Javi is sure anyone could walk in and they’d feel the tension. More so convinced when he glances down your frame, seeing buttons undone and exposed, soft, kissable skin.

You must feel it. The way he looks at you. Your mouth shouting back you’d be there in a minute as nervous, shaky fingers try to button yourself.

In typical fashion, you shoot a sharp glare at him. One he’d already been expecting. One he knows you don’t mean. 

They’re not like the ones he endured when he first met you. It wasn’t the glare that made him almost beg for forgiveness. This glare was a ‘we almost got caught, idiot’ stare. One he feels no guilt about as he waits in your silence, hearing the door once again close. 

“We can’t do this.”

He moves, stepping back in front of you, leaning both hands on the shelves—caging you in, keeping you close. Not allowing you to wriggle away. “Well, we can’t do this here.”

It crosses his mind it could be too much. He could be being too much.

That it was fine at the bar, at his place. That it’s fine with the flirting, but anything more is overstepping. Then Javi sees the glint—the soft twitch of your right lip before he feels hands slide around his neck. Keeping him as close as he’s keeping you. 

“Peña.” 

“Cariño.”

You smirk, fingers sliding down his chest, not breaking eye contact with him. “Thought you were trying to be decent.” 

“Told you I was doing a poor job of it.” 

It’s less a smirk, and more a smile now. Soft on the edges, almost warm. Something he wishes to bottle. If only to keep the feeling he has bubbling in his chest when he spots it. When you allow him to see past curled lips and sharper words. 

“Let me take you for a drink.” 

You smile, playing with his tie. “You don’t have to buy me a drink to fuck me. This isn’t transactional. You don’t have to find a way to pay me to be around you.” Your eyes flip up, cutting into his, letting his thoughts run wild as you slowly roll your lips. “Plus, I want to.”

“Want to what?”

You trace your bottom lip with your tongue. “Fuck you.” 

Letting go of his tie, you wink. 

“I did tell you earlier, you’re more than half-good. Are you really that surprised I’d want another round with you?” 

Moving from him, walking around the files until he hears the door squeal and slams back into place. Slowly raising his hand, massaging his forehead. 

Staying in the file room for an impossibly long-time. An amount appropriate to how hard you’d gotten him, to how long it took him to will it away with thoughts of case file boxes and catching narcos. 

It’s hours until he gets a sight of you, watching you poking your head in his doorway. The afternoon having firmly gone, blanketed instead by the night. 

“Hey,” you say, leaning against the frame.

You look worn, more tired. Whatever had stolen you from your desk seemingly having taken the last shreds of caffeine and willpower you had been running on. 

He also notices you’re wearing your coat, bag already in hand. He doubted it was an invite to leave with you. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to go try and grab that thing you mentioned.”

Leaning back into his chair, he lets his brow rise. Feeling it curl up his face as your smile seeps into your cheeks and eyes. 

“Sleep, Peña, I’m going to go try and get some sleep.”

“Afraid you’d enjoy your tenth cup of coffee or something?” 

Licking your lips, you roll your eyes. “Eleventh. I had the tenth after… we organised the file room.”

“That’s what we’re calling it?” 

Shaking your head, he smiles. 

Natural, easy. Like it’s the most normal thing Javier Peña can do, when he never fucking does it. When it’s been so long since the last time, he can’t actually find a time with much ease. 

“We’re okay, aren’t we?” 

Leaning on his elbows, digging them into the paper covering the wood, he has to nod. “Thought that was my line.”

There are plenty of women he’s had a nice time with, plenty that he’s had a great time with. Some he’s liked going back for more, others he never has. But it’s rare he has a good time when both sets of clothes are on. Rare when it’s in an environment like this, flooded in fluorescence and weighed down by expectations. 

Smiling, he taps his desk. “We’re good, cariño. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Peña… you should…” you begin to say, standing a little taller as you glance at his desk, slowly pointing to something near the top of the pile. “He’s a good agent. Thorough. Just take a look at what he’s done. Ch—Feistl, he wants to do a good job. He cares a lot, too. So, just consider it… even if you do so because I make you coffee and am extra nice to you.”

He stares, confusion wrapping around words he won’t speak. Because he’s not sure how someone can be so nice about a person they keep bickering with only earlier. A person he’s pretty sure you called an asshole if his lip reading was up to scratch. 

“If you get some sleep, I’ll look over it, sure,” he smirks. 

You nod, lifting up from the doorframe—he expects you to leave, but you linger.

Pretty eyes drink him in, looking close to how they did in the file room, and it takes all of his willpower to not cross the room and kiss you again. It would be easier too, to stop fighting and give in. 

But he doesn’t, afraid if he does, it would be the last time. Somehow, unsure if he could allow himself to have nice things, never mind actually having them. 

Glueing his feet to the ground, he feels you break eye contact. Allowing him to capture his full breath. 

“Try to get some yourself—sleep that is. Maybe we can be less difficult with one another that way.” 

He laughs, watching you turn on your heels as he leans to grab the file. Listening to your shoes getting quieter, until he’s left with his thoughts and the low mumble of the television.

He spots your handwriting first, words left on your usual lined paper so similar to the ones you’ve just spoken. Then he opens it, finding tabs along certain pages—ones he knows aren’t there from Feistl but you. 

It’s only as he reads, as he goes between messy writing and typed-up words, does he see what you mean. Does he begin to see the beginning of something. 

It turns the cogs, and lets them twist—something forming until he’s standing. 

Then the television catches his eye, hand quick to grab the remote as he turns it up. He feels his stomach drop, parts of the formed idea beginning to solidify as other parts begin to crumble. 

…After a thorough investigation, we’ve reached the conclusion that the Yumbo chemical exposure was caused by a faulty valve in a natural gas line in the area…

chapter four ->