seen from United States
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seen from France
seen from Canada
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seen from Iraq
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Finland
seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada
seen from Iraq
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seen from United States
seen from United States
Okay tonight I have to finish my Greek things. I just gotta. I’ve read the story; I need to just write a summary + some reflections on it. It’s 150-200 words; I think. A lot of those I can just pull straight out of the story. + then say some things abt it. It’ll be easy. And then tomorrow and Wednesday morning I will write my Arth paper. Which. That I have not left enough time for. But it’ll be fine. Tbh I wrote the last one in a day, so.
Hey I just met you and this is crazy but I'm pregnant and it's your ba-- oh you're married. Fuck.
That modern AU (featuring polyamory and trans!Rumi) where Zoey and Rumi are stuck working together, both away from where they normally live now staying in air B&B's and hotels while they're on a project. It's how they meet.
Where hook ups happen and it's just casual sex blowing off steam after work here and there. No feelings, nope none at all that's not happening. Rumi back to the city she normally lives in and it's fine. Then oops um unplanned pregnancy and terribly timed realization of feelings, Zoey going to confess to both feelings and pregnancy, but it's not Rumi who opens the door at her rental it's uh her wife? Her really very amazingly gorgeous wife who's holding their toddler who might just be the most adorable toddler Zoey's ever seen in her life.
Fuck.
Aasaan Nahi ( Part 3) ( NOT EASY)
Masterlist
Taglist - @sea-breeze-in-my-hair , @pleasetagmejaaneman , @cloudmast , @perfectcherryblossomrebel , @rehmandakaitswife
The distance didn’t disappear.
In the beginning, you tried to ignore it , chalking it up to Uzair’s pettiness after a fight, believing he’d be fine in a couple of days if you just let it be.
That was until it settled into the walls of the house.
At first, it had felt obvious.
His anger was glaringly visible , so much so that Ulfat Bhabhi pulled you aside to ask what had happened. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell her.
It was sharp. Noticeable. Something you could point at.
But then it became quieter , and somehow, a lot more dangerous.
Because it had become normal.
His anger had become your routine.
Uzair Baloch still picked you up from college every day.
Still stood by the car.
Still opened the passenger door , but now he did it without looking at you.
“Chalein?” (Shall we go?)
He said it in the same gruff tone he usually used with his men , one he had never used with you before. Not before the fight.
“Haan.” (Yeah.)
You felt miserably awkward around him, unable to express anything except a quiet, lingering disappointment at the state of your now , ruined friendship.
No teasing.
No lingering conversations.
No “aaj kya hua.”
Just silence.
And the worst part?
You had started getting used to it.
The house stayed the same.
And yet, everything had changed.
Rishta after rishta.
Call after call.
Names you didn’t care about. Families you didn’t know.
Rehman Bhai seemed to have doubled his efforts to get Uzair married but that only seemed to make things worse between them
And in the end, all Uzair ever said to him was…
“Nahi.” (No.)
And every time Rehman Bhai asked
“Kyun?” (Why?)
“Bas.” (Just like that.)
“Har baar ‘bas’ nahi hota. Reason hota hai.” (It’s not always just “because.” There’s a reason.)
“Mann nahi hai.” (I don’t feel like it.)
And that was the end of it. The same conversation over and over.
Rehman and Uzair barely spoke without arguing , every new rishta ending with a more irritated refusal from Uzair and growing frustration from Rehman bhai.
Until one week...
Rehman bhai stopped asking Uzair to marry.
It was like a switch flipped.
He no longer mentioned marriage around him.
Things became… less tense.
Uzair still didn’t soften around you, but he seemed more relaxed now that Rehman bhai and Ulfat bhabhi weren’t presenting a new woman every time he walked through the door.
But you should have known...
Peace never lasted long in the Baloch household.
You were in the study when Rehman bhai called you in.
“Baitho.” (Sit.)
He didn’t look angry.
Just… tired.
He had been looking more tired these days.
“Tumhari age kya hai ab?” (How old are you now?)
You frowned slightly.
“Aapko pata hai.” (You know that.)
He ignored that, as if preparing to launch into something serious.
“Zindagi rukti nahi hai. Samjhi tum?” (Life doesn’t stop. Do you understand?)
You stayed quiet.
You had a feeling where this was going and you knew it wasn’t going to end well....
“Main chahta hoon tumhara future secure ho. Tumhara apna ghar ho. Apni zindagi ho.” (I want your future to be secure. You should have your own home. Your own life.)
That word again.
Apna.
It always stung.
When you had first moved in with the Balochs, you had always felt like an intruder , a voyeur looking through a window, craving the kind of love and warmth that could only come from something truly your own.
They had never let you lack anything.
But a stubborn, traitorous part of you had always seen their care as something… borrowed.
Something owed to your father. Not to you. Given to you as a consolation for his death not out of true familial affection
“Yeh ghar mera nahi hai?”
(This house isn’t mine?)
You couldn’t keep the pain out of your voice.
That made him pause.
“Hai. Lekin hamesha nahi rahega. Tumhe pata hai mera woh matlab nahi hai. Tum meri beti jaisi ho… par har baap ko kabhi na kabhi apni beti deni hi padti hai. Unke bhale ke liye.” (It is. But not forever. You know that’s not what I mean. You’re like a daughter to me… but every father has to give his daughter away someday. For her own good.)
Silence settled between you.
When you didn’t respond, he said, a little awkwardly.
“Kal koi aa raha hai. Bas mil lo.” (Someone is coming tomorrow. Just meet him.)
You hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Theek hai.” (Okay.)
In truth, the idea of marrying a stranger scared you.
You had grown up around gangsters and politicians , neither known for treating their wives well.
Rehman bhai was a rare exception.
Seeing him with Ulfat bhabhi often made you feel painfully single , but you weren’t naive enough to think every man would be like him.
You knew better.
The worst men were often the most charming in public.
And yet…
You couldn’t live on his charity forever.
The house was quieter than usual that evening.
Not loud with laughter.
But controlled.
Careful.
Ulfat Bhabhi stood behind you, adjusting your dupatta.
“Nervous ho?” (Are you nervous?)
“Thoda.” (A little.)
She smiled softly....that gentle, motherly smile that eased something in your chest.
“Achha hai. Matlab serious ho.” (That’s good. It means you’re taking it seriously.)
You didn’t respond.
Because you weren’t sure you were. You could hear the sound of men laughing in the living room before Rehman Bhai’s voice rang out.
“Aao.” (Come.)
Rehman bhai gestured you forward.
“Yeh Yusuf Jamali hai. Jameel Jamali ka bhatija.” (This is Yusuf Jamali. Jameel Jamali’s nephew.)
Yusuf Jamali stood up immediately.
“Assalamualaikum.” (Peace be upon you.)
“Waalaikum assalam.”
He was… put together.
Too put together.
A polished burger baccha.
You could almost hear Uzair saying it with that signature mocking smirk he often displayed back when you were actually friends with him.
“Maine aapke baare mein kaafi suna hai.” (I’ve heard a lot about you.)
You tried to smile, but it came out slightly awkward.
“Achha ya bura?” (Good or bad?)
A polite smile.
“Mostly impressive.”
You forced a small smile.
He awkwardly began his introduction almost as if it were a job interview... perhaps Uzair wasn’t wrong when he said it was like a job interview.
“Main US mein tha kaafi saalon tak. Business management. Ab family business expand kar raha hoon yahan.” (I was in the US for several years. Business management. Now expanding the family business here.)
“Pakistan adjust karna mushkil nahi lag raha?” (Is adjusting to Pakistan difficult?)
“Adjustment mindset pe hota hai. Environment pe nahi.” (Adjustment depends on mindset, not the environment.)
You nodded. It was beginning to feel more and more like a job interview by the minute
“Aur aap? Future plans?” (And you? Future plans?)
“Abhi padhai. Phir dekhte hain.” (Right now, studies. After that, we’ll see.)
“Clarity important hoti hai long-term ke liye.” (Clarity is important for the long term.)
You smiled faintly.
“Kabhi kabhi clarity baad mein bhi aati hai.” (Sometimes clarity comes later.)
He tilted his head slightly, as if the idea itself didn’t quite sit right with him.
“Risky approach hai.” (That approach seems risky.)
“Life bhi risky hoti hai.” (Life is risky too.)
He chuckled.
For a moment, there was ease.
Until…
You felt it.
A stare.
Sharp. Familiar.
You turned.
And there he was.
Standing just beyond the doorway.
Watching.
For a second...
Everything froze.
You held his gaze.
Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
Then he looked away.
And walked off.
You stared at the empty space he left behind until Yusuf cleared his throat.
You forced a smile.
The conversation continued , but your attention was elsewhere now...
Still…
You tried.
Because that’s what you were expected to do.
The dinner table was quiet.
Too quiet.
Rehman bhai cleared his throat.
“Toh… kya socha tumne?” (So… what do you think?)
Before you could speak...
“Mujhe nahi lagta yeh theek hai.” (I don’t think this is right.)
Uzair’s voice.
Low. Flat.
You closed your eyes.
“Uzair—”
He cut you off.
“Main serious hoon. Bohot jaldi hai.” (I’m serious. It’s too early.)
Rehman bhai shook his head.
“Tumse poocha nahi gaya.” (You weren’t asked.)
“Phir bhi bol raha hoon.” (I’m saying it anyway.)
“Kyun? Kya problem hai us ladke se?” (Why? What’s your problem with that boy?)
“Mujhe woh pasand nahi hai.” (I don’t like him.)
“Reason?”
Silence.
You spoke quietly , not wanting another fight to break out between the two
“Main ek baar aur mil leti hoon.” (I’ll meet him once more.)
That did it.
Rehman relaxed.
But Uzair...
He stood up.
Chair scraping loudly.
“Theek hai. Kar lo.” (Fine. Do it.)
And walked away. He walked away from the table but for some reason it felt like he was walking away from you.
You lay awake that night.
That look on his face…
It wouldn’t leave you.
So you went looking for him.
And found him.
On the balcony.
Cigarette in hand.
Smoke curling into the night.
A faint smell of alcohol in the air.
He was drunk.
Usually, he would have hidden it. The Baloch men didn’t drink or smoke around you or Ulfat bhabhi for the most part. The only exception being events and stressful situations.
Tonight…
He didn’t.
“Ab chhupana band kar diya?” (Stopped hiding it now?)
He didn’t answer.
So you tried again.
“Tumhe kya problem hai?” (What is your problem?)
“Tumhe shaadi ki itni jaldi kyun hai?” (Why are you in such a hurry to get married?)
You hesitated. How do you explain to someone that you felt like a debtor in what was supposed to be your home? How do you explain the want to take the burden of Rehman bhai’s shoulders? You couldn’t tell him
Then...
“Kyuki main akeli feel karti hoon. Bas itni si baat hai” (Because I feel alone. That’s it)
Silence.
Then…
A sharp laugh almost cruel…mocking. So far from his usual warm laughter that it almost surprised you
“Toh tum apni life ka decision loneliness pe logi?” (So you’ll base your life decision on loneliness?)
“At least main try toh kar rahi hoon!” You felt annoyance at his mocking tone. (At least I’m trying!)
“Galat cheez try kar rahi ho!” The frustration in his voice was evident (You’re trying the wrong thing!)
“Tumhe kya farak padta hai?!” You looked up at him angrily pointing a finger at his chest. (Why does it matter to you?!)
He caught your wrist in a firm grip and then…he shouted at you for the first time since you’d known him…
“Padta hai! Bohot padta hai! Kyuki main tumse mohabbat karta hoon, pagal aurat!” (It matters! It matters a lot! Because I’m in love with you, you crazy woman!)
Everything stopped.
The kiss came suddenly.
Rough.
Emotional.
Uzair held you like you were his entire world , the desperation of a man drowning, clinging to the only thing keeping him alive.
You could feel the longing almost as if he was trying to cement you to his side by kissing you. You felt yourself relax into his arms...melt into the kiss.
You were lost in the kiss.....You were lost in him.
Par kya kaare , tumhaari zindagi bhi aasan nahi hai...
Because just then...
“Yeh kya ho raha hai?!” (What is happening here?!)
Rehman bhai stood there.
Furious.
Looking ready to kill.
Just Let Me Look At You(Remastered)
This is a rewriting of my fic “i like it here when it’s just us two” Not proofreading, and I hope you like it!
————————————————————————
“Please, baby, all I wanna do is watch you.” Paige whines, nearly tearing up looking up at me from the floor, through the crack in the bathroom door.
“Paige, sweetie, I have to actually shower at some point. Whenever you’re in there with me, I never end up actually getting clean and just have to get up early anyways. Go to bed and I’ll be there in a bit.”
I think I hear her stand and plod away, so I make light of the situation and attempt to complete my shower routine efficiently. As I’m lathering in my shampoo, I swear I hear the door creak open.
“Paige? Is that you?” I call, mostly to myself but also to my debilitating fear of a murderer catching me in the shower with my eyes closed.
“Uh, yeah, it is,” she answers. At least it’s not a murderer. Just my girlfriend, who must be having an episode because she is being annoyingly clingy at present time.
“And what, exactly, are you doing?” Somehow, I know she’s not just innocently passing through.
“Nothing.” I hear her, and see her silhouette through the glass sliding shower door, moving to kneel, yet again, and presumably nag me for something. “Since I’m doing nothing so well, can I come in? Please? Please? Please?”
“No.”
“Can I open the door?”
“No.”
“Just a crack?”
“No.” At this exact moment, I drop my bottle of body wash onto the ground, making a dramatically loud crash. Paige reaches up, while remaining on her knees, to open the door.
“Are you okay, baby? You didn’t fall, right? You’re fine?” She asks, inquiring purely as a performance, because she can literally see me through the frosted glass anyways.
“Yes. I fell, horribly,” I deadpan, glancing down at her, unamused.
“How about I come in there and make you feel better,” she asks, because she’s incorrigible.
“How about you shut the shower door and get yourself off, since you’re so eager?” I snap back, hoping she’ll give up and wait for me in bed. What I don’t expect her to do is slide the glass door shut, spread her legs, and start rubbing herself through her boxers.
“I really wish this was you, instead,” she pouts, tugging her waistband out and slipping her hand inside.
“I’m almost done in here, sweetie, so you’d better hurry up, because if you don’t get off before I get out, you won’t get off, period.” I tut, lathering soap onto my body. She gasps a bit, and quickens the pace of her hand, letting out intermittent whimpers as she tries to hurry her orgasm along. I rinse myself and turn off the shower, just as she’s about to reach her peak. “Baby.”
“Oh, no, no, no! I’m done, I’m done, I’m doing it now,” she tries to plead, as I reach down and pull her hand up. I bring it to my own lips, suckling on each individual digit.
“Stand up, Paigey. You can get me off now, if you want.” She stands, leaning on me and burrowing into my neck, lapping at the juncture of my collarbone. I hear her whimper, as if she’s touching herself instead of wrapping a hand lightly around my waist. She shuffles behind me as I move us towards my bed, removing her fingers from my mouth. I sit down at the edge of the bed, letting my legs dangle off, and push her to the ground. “Now, tell me why you should get to eat me?” I chide.
“Please, because I wanna make you feel good, please,” she begs, resting a hand on my thigh and kissing at my kneecap. I take her face in my hand, pushing a thumb into her mouth.
“You beg so nice, for someone who doesn’t listen, baby. You’re gonna need to try harder.” I pull my hand away. She pulls away from me, crossing her arms behind her back, looking the absolute portrait of submission.
“I’ll be so good for you, make you feel so good, I’ll go to bed aching just to make sure that you feel good, all I wanna do is be good, please please please let me be good,” she pleads, grinding slightly against herself, and the floor as she watches my reaction.
“Go on, baby. But don’t use your hands. I like how you look with them behind your back.” I let my head roll back as she licks at my cunt, lapping at it like she’s been starved. I rake my fingers through her hair, and she groans, causing a vibration through my clit. I cry out slightly, as a warning, and cum all over her face. She sits back, grinning in sheer bliss.
“I love doing that,” she breathes, standing up to clean herself, and bringing back a warm, damp cloth for me. I look at her nude form, and notice the stickiness between her legs.
“Oh sweetie, if you come over here, I can take care of you, too,” I coo, coaxing her into my arms.
“Uh, that’s fine, I kinda, already came? While I was eating you out? You’re just so hot when you cum and please don’t be mad at me because you said I couldn’t but I just couldn’t help it and-“ I cut her off, pressing my lips to hers and slipping my tongue into her mouth. I watch her eyes glaze over and droop as I maneuver us to the head of the bed, and lean against the pillows. Paige tugs the blankets up to her chin, and curls into my chest, nearly asleep already. “Love you,” I whisper, kissing her hair.
“ ‘ve you too,” she says back.
___________________________________________
i hope you liked it!
Always (Alexia Putellas x Arsenal!Reader)
Summary: For three years, Arsenal vice-captain YN has been Alexia Putellas's everything—best friend, safe space, and home—until a night in Paris forces them to finally admit they're in love. Their happiness feels invincible as they build a life together, but when a devastating injury leaves YN broken and pushing Alexia away, everything they've built is tested. Now Alexia must prove that love means staying through the storms, just like YN always did for her.
Chapter 2: The Storm (Masterlist)
Two Months Earlier
YN's POV
The party was in full swing when YN checked their phone for the third time in ten minutes.
Walter Oltmann, South African, b 1960.
Walter Oltmann is a quiet, gentle man. He has the calm of a cloistered monk, his serenity seemingly placing him above the messy concerns of the material world. Born in 1960, he holds a BA (Fine Arts), from the University of Natal, Pietermaritzburg and a PhD (Fine Arts) from the University of the Witwatersrand . His father worked as a civil servant and the family moved from one remote area of Kwa-Zulu Natal to the next. This migratory lifestyle exposed Walter Oltmann to the rich craft tradition of rural South Africa.
Walter Oltmann’s work can be divided into two main areas of practice: drawing (pencil, ink and bleach) and sculpture (wire work). He is a master at manipulating both two-dimensional and three-dimensional line. A thread runs through the prints that he has made at The Artists’ Press.
"My recent artworks explore dynamics between humans, animals and plants, highlighting features of armour, protection and disguise. By introducing defensive characteristics such as bristles, quills and scales as well as engaging with interspecies protective strategies of mimicry, deception and aposematism, I tease the borders between human and non-human, presence and absence, fantastic and real. Hierarchical exchanges between species raise questions around domination, vulnerability and control and allow for an imagining of alternative ways of being.
A variety of armoured suits often feature alongside images of armoured but also endangered animals such as the Sungazer lizard and the African pangolin. Insects also feature frequently as an extreme ‘other’ to the human. Such works bring attention to the plight of such extraordinary creatures but also afford a cross-species framework where observation and imagination combine to open up fresh perspectives of and with other living beings. My work often presents an imaginary world where borders between the human and non-human become permeable." Walter Oltmann, 2025
https://www.artprintsa.com/Walter-Oltmann
One Step at a Time - Shayne x platonic! Reader (Part 11)
Description: When y/n has no choice but to leave a toxic relationship with her two young children, Mason and Hallie, she goes to her best friend, Shayne for help. Little did she know that decision would change her life.
Warnings: Uh... a form of stalking, I guess? And I think Aaron is just a warning himself, but he gets punched in the face, so I hope that softens the scary.
Notes: I like this part a lot. I never realised how much I'd enjoy writing someone getting punched, lol :)
Also the Damien arc we've all been waiting for may be upon us.
_____
But like can I ask something? Not to be rude but I really want part 2 of birthday boy for michael?🥹
Birthday Boy Part: 2
Michael Olise x University Student! Reader
TW: none
Summary: Michael receives his birthday gifts from Y/N.
a/n: I'm sorry it took so long!
Birthday Boy Part: 1
When Michael opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Y/N yawning beside him. She blinked a few times and looked over at him, a lazy smile on her face. “Morning” “Good morning. Happy birthday old man.” “I’m not old.” “Then why do you snore so loud?” Y/N giggled and Michael smiled as he leaned over to kiss her. He moved to deepen the kiss, but she pushed him away.
“I gotta go make you breakfast, remember?” “I could just eat you instead,” he purred and kissed her neck. “Tempting, very tempting but I want hashbrowns.” Michael huffed and kissed her one last time before letting her get up and go to the bathroom. He watched through the door while she put her hair up and brushed her teeth.
“I don't feel any older y’know.” Michael stated from his place in bed. “Careful, you’ll jinx yourself.”
Michael stayed in bed a little while longer, taking the time to respond to the birthday wishes that his friends and family members had sent to him before getting up and joining Y/N in the kitchen. “Ba- hm I mean Michael do you want tea?” Michael lifted a brow questioningly and smirked.
“Were you going to call me baby?” Y/N laughed and turned away to hide her flustered expression. “What? Of course not, do you want tea?”
Michael smiled knowingly and walked up behind her where she was opening a can of beans. He hugged her from behind and whispered in her ear, “You can call me baby if you want to.” “Do you want tea or not?” Michael chuckled and hugged her tight, “Yes please, ma biche.”
Breakfast was a peaceful affair and soon enough they were both ready to attend to their respected duties. Michael to training and Y/N to her classes. Michael kissed her and thanked her for breakfast before heading off for training with a smile on his face.
As previously agreed, Michael spent the evening with his friends celebrating. But as the moonlight took the place of the sun, Michael found himself itching to return to Y/N’s embrace. He made up an excuse about needing to get up early the next morning and returned home, calling Y/N’s name as he closed the door.
She was leaning against the doorframe wearing a robe and a small smile. “Did you have fun?” “Yeah, I brought you some leftover cake” Michael said as he took his sweater off and draped it over the back of a chair. He squinted when he saw that she was hiding something behind her back. "You got me a present?" "Maybe."
Michael stepped closer, their chests touching and breaths mixing as Michael reached behind her to find her hands clasped around a small box. “If you don’t like it just lie to me, okay?” Michael laughed. “Please Michael” he took the box from her grasp and kissed her. “Fine, I’ll lie” he mumbled against her lips before grabbing her hand and pulling her to the sofa.
He sat down and pulled her into his lap. Michael inspected the matte black wrapping and silver ribbon matched him perfectly then pulled the ribbon and took the lid off. He furrowed his brows when he looked inside, "you got me hot wheels?"
Y/N covered her face with her hands, "I thought you'd like it" she whined as Michael laughed. He pulled out a perfect replica of his car, identical to the custom Mercedes he had sitting in the driveway. "Oh, it's my car!"
Michael turned the car in his hands to admire it. "This is actually really cool. I’m not lying by the way." “That sounded like a lie...” “I’m not lying! I love it” Michael said honestly.
“You're really hard to find a gift for, I hope you know.” “Yeah, my mum complains about it all the time. I like this though; it's got all the details and everything. Thank you." Y/N blinked at him, clearly unconvinced.
“I got you something else.” “Yeah?” she came back with another gift wrapped in black paper and silver ribbon. She returned to her place in her lap and gave it to him.
“Feels like a book” Michael thought aloud and he began unwrapping. He pulled off the black paper to reveal the cover of The History of FC Bayern Munchen. A book that gave a detailed explanation of how FC Bayern Munchen was founded and documented its rich history.
“I thought it'd be cool to learn more about the history of the team. And look,” Y/N took the book and flipped to the last chapter of the book that covered the 2024 season. She pointed to a photo of Michael during a champions league match. “There you are. That's a good picture of you.”
Michael snorted and skimmed over the page before closing the book and looking up at her. “I love it, thank you” “You're welcome.” “I'm gonna have to get my dad a copy. He’ll go mad when he sees me in a book.”
He set the book aside and pulled her forward for a kiss, his fingers inching forward to untie her robe as the kiss deepened. Y/N pulled away abruptly, “wait I got you something else”
Michael let out an impatient huff as she got up to grab the last gift, watching her jog out of the room with a hungry look in his eyes. Y/N came back holding a gift much bigger than the last two. It was flat and rectangular in shape.
“Is it a picture?” “Maybe” Y/N said, handing it to him. “Is it a picture of you naked?” Michael guessed with an excited grin. “What? No! Open the present you pervert.”
Michael snickered and tore open the wrapping paper finding a framed picture from the night they had met. The picture captured the Munich skyline and gorgeous golden hues of the sun setting over the city. Michael had taken the picture from the top of a roof with Y/N sitting beside him.
“I thought it’d be nice to hang… somewhere.” Y/N said, her voice a little quieter than before. She worried that the gift might have been a little too romantic, especially after they had agreed to go slow.
Michael admired the photo for a moment longer before setting it down and kissing her without a word. “Maybe you should put it somewhere else, it might clash with the grey” Y/N mumbled against his lips.
“I’m putting it in the bedroom,” Michael said when he pulled away and moved her off of his lap and pulled his shirt over his head. “So you like it?” “That’s the best one, no offense to the other gifts.”
He gently pushed her back on the couch and straddled her with his lips pressed against her neck. His fingers reached inside the robe, and he smiled when he felt her bare skin. He pulled back and opened the robe chuckling lowly at the satin lingerie set she had chosen.
Michael hummed as he took in the sight, “What am I gonna do with you?” “The same thing you've done with me for the past six months. I know you're getting old, but I hope you're not already developing dementia” she teased. Michael rolled his eyes, “shut up” he grumbled chasing after her lips while she giggled.
“Fuckin’ hell, did you double knot this?” Michael hissed as he attempted to untie the bow over Y/N’s chest. “Well, I can't make it too easy for you” she retorted and grinned. Michael glared at her, resisting a smile.
“Happy birthday, baby.”
