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erodasfishtacos · 22 days ago

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But I Got Wise (You're the Devil in Disguise) || DWD

Prompt: Harry & YN are the picture perfect couple of their suburban little neighborhood where everything is pristine and manicured. It's the 1960’s and they're just like any other husband and wife in this era, right?

AKA The Don't Worry Darling AU I never wrote

Word Count: 12.5k

Warnings: PLEASE REFER TO BOTTOM OF THE FIC AS IT WILL SPOIL EVERYTHING IF I PUT WARNINGS HERE 🖤

author's note:

I upload a piece of writing every 1-3 days.

I recently started a second tier called The OG Tier where 2-3 one shots (1-4kish) are posted a week.

There are currently 350 + pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

Tier II - $5 USD where you get access to every piece of writing!

you can check it out here!

Inspired fully by this song

It’s a give and take.

An ebb and flow.

The most skillfully crafted routine of all time.

YN should win an Oscar for her perfectly crafted wide-eyed expressions or shocked gasp that could fool every single person in a room.

Every woman wanted to be YN.

Every husband wishes their wife was YN or something of a clone to her.

YN was the ideal housewife.

The sprawling mansion pristine, the meals delicious, and her appearance was always without a hair out of place or a smeared liner.

The jealousy came from YN’s upbringing, a family with old money, the kind that sent their children away.

YN was raised in a Swiss boarding school, where she had etiquette classes and learned how to be a lady.

At least that was the story that had so neatly constructed.

She always knew which cutlery went on which side, what fork was used for salad versus entree, and never had an elbow on the table.

YN was always polite to their guests.

No matter how standoffish the women were, she only smiled and acted as if she didn’t sense the tension.

When their husband’s make passes at her, she swiftly but always kindly, gently turns them down with a sympathetic look.

Like if she could she would but she can’t, she only cannot because she’s married.

Her acting made these men believe that if it wasn’t for Harry, they would have this chance with her.

And that was part of her magic, in the process of denying these men, it made them become even more interested with her.

YN was private, comparatively to the group of women, and didn’t share any information that the others would willing give away.

No one knew anything about her marriage.

Not like how everyone knew that Barbara’s husband was drunk nearly every night which resulted in whiskey dick.

Or how Rhonda’s expects it every night, even on days where he’s worked twelve plus hours and they’re both tired.

YN listened attentively, pouted empathically when necessary but never add anything to relate to it.

When pushed once by Catherine, YN was graceful in her rebuke when asked how her sex life was with Harry.

Was he a dud or star between the sheets?

They were dying to know.

He was a gorgeous man, the most successful out of the lot, and the only one who didn’t need hard liquor to loosen up.

Harry seemed too perfect, just like YN, to the point whs dimples smile seemed more wolfish and intimidating than welcoming.

When one of these men would hit on YN, Harry would make sure to give their hand a near bone-breaking shake on the way out as a warning.

All with that dazzling smile.

YN had not taken the bait.

She sipped her tea, acting as if she was flustered, and coquettishly replied, “Harry is a good, respectable man. A man with strong morals of how to treat a woman.”

All the women took that as a confirmation that he was a dud, the vanilla type who only knew missionary before rolling over to snore.

In an alarming discovery, the group of women all came to the conclusion that none of their husbands had ever gotten them anywhere close to climax.

YN had stayed mum, when curious eyes landed on her, she only gave a closed-lipped smile, and shrugged delicately, “I don’t speak about such things. It’s not very ladylike.”

As much as the gossipers want to roll their eyes at her holier-than-thou approach, it created wonder in what her life was like.

YN nor Harry ever cracked, never once.

Of course, every couple tried to put on their best faces for dinners and cocktails but they’ve all slipped a few times.

Like when Caroline had huffed at her husband to, “make his own damn cocktail.”

Or when Bart had let it slip that Gretchen threw a glass at his head during one heated argument a few days back.

Not Harry and YN.

Dinner tonight was hosted at the Chamber’s home, though no one would say it, they preferred when the couple hosted.

YN’s food was impeccable, the kind that only really was served at high-end restaurants, and cooked to absolute perfection.

Their house was incredible, expansive and an open-floor plan that was not the norm for house concepts - it was new, innovative.

They got together every other weekend, the neighborhood parents while a few of the teenage girls watched the young ones.

It was a mystery too.

Harry and YN were the only ones who were childless in their neighborhood.

At twenty-seven and twenty-nine years old, it was a bit scandalous that the two hadn't brought any additions to their family.

When bluntly asked once over tea about the issue, asking too crudely about infertility - YN had replied that no, she wasn’t and they just hadn’t wanted to start trying yet.

That her and Harry were happy right now.

Which was a concept that the others didn’t understand, majority hated their husbands, minority could tolerate them.

Children were something that brought joy to an otherwise dull life, to put something between husband and wife as a barrier to interact because every word seemed tense.

The largest house in the neighborhood, with five bedrooms, and none of them occupied by little ones.

It was a yearning to be like them.

YN was perfect down to the delicately painted polish on her fingertips.

The most mild-tempered personality, who seemed perpetually bubbly and not one negative, pessimistic molecule in her body.

Harry matched the same energy to an extent.

He had a temper unlike his wife, he wasn’t boisterous or belligerent like the other men but he was much worse.

It was subtle, passive, and it made the person who was the target of his anger feel like they were walking on eggshells until Harry decided not to hold the grudge anymore.

Harry was not one to mess with.

Once their neighbor Tom thought it’d be a funny prank to do a burn-out in their front yard.

It tore up a section of their healthy, thriving green grass that Harry watered before work every morning.

Mud, dirt, their meticulous landscape was tainted by the ruddy tire marks of the Chevy Impala that resides next door.

It was passive aggressive, Tom definitely had some not-too-secretive envy for his next door neighbor.

Harry had all the things the men wanted.

Top of that was a nice, obedient little wife who smiled and kept their mouth shut when the men were talking.

Tom anxiously peeled out his window that morning, blinds drawn only barely as he watched Harry come out of his front door.

Always at fifty-thirty on the dot, he grabs the hose, and it’s a bit comical because he’s already in his pressed, tailored suit, and shining loafers that YN must polish daily.

Harry…doesn’t give a reaction.

Which makes Tom’s stomach sink for a reason he cannot quite put his finger on.

Harry does not lose his shit like Tom was hoping, goading him into breaking his picture perfect image that they know.

No, Harry simply waters the grass, as always, and only glides over the disturbed soil to not make it any muddier.

His facial expression does not even twitch.

“He’s going to take that out on his wife,” Janet, his wife, frets as she looks over his shoulder, “You know he’s going to go in there and knock her around because he’s angry.”

“That’s not my fault,” Tom retorts defensively, letting the curtain fall back so they can no longer see him, pissed and unsettled.

“Tom-“

“Go make me breakfast before I knock you around, alright? You’re pissing me off,” Tom dismisses her as he grabs his cup of coffee, watching her scurry into the kitchen.

It honestly disappears from Tom’s mind after not getting the reaction that he wanted so fiercely.

But Tom was also relieved that Harry hadn’t come over, banging on his front door, or leaving a nasty message in the mailbox.

Nope.

It’s not until Tom walks out to the driveway, where his brand new burnt orange Chevy Impala is waiting for him, his pride and joy.

Tom sees it right away, his tires, the expensive brand new tires he had just paid an arm and a leg for were deflated.

Not just one, all of them.

And it’s easy to see that they’re sunken and useless because the underside of the car is closer to the ground, and not to mention the massive slash marks.

Tom thinks he’s about to have an aneurysm as his face starts to fluster into a shade of beet red, his hands trembling.

Just at that moment, Harry’s exiting his front door with YN walking behind in, tied up in a beautifully floral robe that ghosts on the stone.

Tom is boiling, if he was a cartoon character, steam would be coming from his ears.

Harry leans in to kiss his wife, this soft peck as she cups his face like she doesn’t want him to go, whispering against his lips.

He indulges her in a few more before she’s letting him go, not before pressing her thumb into the indent of his dimple.

“What the fuck, Chambers?” Tom roars as he storms to the edge of the driveway, staying in his own land but throwing his arms up.

Harry does the same fucking shit as before except the twerk of his lips.

Harry fucking smirks at him but his eyes were as slicing as recently sharpened daggers through flesh, he gets under Tom’s skin.

“Tom, watch your language in front of my wife,” Harry replies back calmly, “That’s no way to speak in front of a lady.”

YN’s lips are tight, eyes not dancing anywhere near Tom’s as she holds her husband’s bicep in concern, the typical over emotional woman.

Harry leans over, must tell her to go inside because she does go back into the house with a slam of the door, a deafening click of the lock in the still sleepy neighborhood.

“This crime is getting out of control for how much my mortgage is,” Harry lets out a breezy laugh, waving towards his front lawn, “First my yard is torn up, now your tires! I thought this was the safest place in the state!”

Tom is flabbergasted, he doesn’t know how to respond because Harry is acting like they both don’t know what is actually going on right now.

“I might have to get a watchdog, a rottweiler or something like that,” Harry’s smirk does not fade an inch but his tone gets deeper, more threatening, “Rip the jugular out of the next person who comes on my property uninvited.”

They both were aware that Harry was talking directly about Tom, threatening him in a subtle but almost more malicious manipulative way.

Tom freezes up, unsure of how to even answer him but he stutters slightly when he says, “Yea-yeah. A Rottweiler, not a, uh, bad idea there.”

“I better get going,” Harry thumbs back to his jaguar convertible, “My employees will have my ass if I’m late. You know how it is.”

Another jab.

They both know Tom doesn’t know how it is because he’s a low-level at his desk job where he makes barely enough and still has to rely on his parents sometimes.

“Yeah,” Tom bleats dumbly, now having to figure out this mess that was his car, “Have a good one.”

“You as well,” Harry returns, his dimples teasing at this point with his wide smile, “By the way, Tom, if you ever curse in front of my wife again. We’re going to have an issue. She’s a fucking lady and you’re going to treat her like one.”

Tom can’t reply because Harry has already ducked into his Jaguar, revving the engine, and peels out of their driveway with a loud squeal of tires.

Tom and Janet continue to come to dinner parties like nothing ever happened.

Harry will still mix his normal Moscow mule with a question about how his work is going, no one but Tom knows it’s a jab when Harry asks how his new tires are doing for him.

YN is cordial as ever.

When Tom takes her aside to apologize, he doesn’t miss how Harry’s eyes lock on him like a bullseye of a target - watching, clocking every subtle movement.

Harry watches the interaction in its entirety as Tom keeps his voice low, “I apologize for my language the other morning. I shouldn’t have cursed in front of you.”

YN let’s out a short, girlish giggle as she pats him arm, “No apology needed. Harry acts as if I’ve never heard the word before. Though I do not hear it often, I will admit. Harry keeps me sheltered.”

“A good husband,” Tom huffs out, she was adorable, and there was something so innocent about her that made not just him but many drawn like a moth to a flame.

“The best,” YN smiles sweetly, squeezing his bicep as she starts to move away, “Now I must check on my pork chops. I’d be mortified if they’re dry. Enjoy.”

And with that, she glided away, eyes couldn’t help but follow.

YN was cutting up the garnishes, the last touch on the dinner that was about to be served, sprigs of cilantro under her fingers.

A few women flocked around her, sipping martinis and gossiping like grade schoolers.

Harry had sauntered into the kitchen a few minutes after, hands finding her hips, and a chaste kiss to her cheek, “I’m starving.”

“Dinner will be ready in five,” YN looks over her shoulder to tell him, knife pausing for a moment.

“Oh, dinner sounds good too,” Harry’s hand slips from her hips to a bit more suggestive position on her lower back.

“Harry!” YN scolds him, a scandalized expression on her face as the other women flush and giggle.

They all wish the had their own Harry, a husband who was affectionate, a bit inappropriate but he made it obvious that he desired his wife.

His eyes never wandered, not even when Catherine bent over at a barbecue and the wind blew her dress over her head - cotton panties for everyone to see.

All the men had nearly drooled at the sight of skin but not Harry, he glanced with a bored expression at his watch and leaned in to kiss his wife’s nose.

“Out, out,” YN shoos him like a dog begging for a bone, giving him a light shove as he snickers, hands up in surrender.

YN’s eyes are glued to the cutting board, embarrassment latent on her face, “I apologize about that. He sometimes forgets he needs to filter his thoughts before speaking.”

The group around her titters, trying to hide how their cheeks feel warm because how does YN even handle her husband saying to her?

They’d swoon instantly if Harry told them that he was starving for them.

The dinner is served on beautiful, imported dishes from Italy - a wedding gift that was treasured from Harry’s parents allegedly.

The spread was as picture perfect as always.

It was because they were picture perfect.

Most of the men, aside from Harry, were drunk or quite close to it after the salad was served.

By the time the pork chops was on the table, they were bordering on something more uninhibited and unfiltered.

“And Marshall’s new secretary,” Henry’s voice is booming, monopolizing as every one gives him their attention, “Biggest tits I’ve ever seen. Natural too.”

The men all let out these crowing, obnoxious laughs out.

Except Harry.

“I bet her ass is just as -“

“Gentlemen,” Harry cuts in smoothly, raising his lowball glass, “This is no type of conversation in front of the ladies.”

“Catherine’s heard this talk before,” Henry tries to brush him off easily, glancing over at his wife who looks uncomfortable put on the spot.

Harry acquiesces with a sip of his drink, raised eyebrow, and nothing more.

It’s silent for a moment before the conversation continues.

It typically doesn’t wander into such raunchy, debauched territory at a neighborhood dinner but something was in the air.

“Janet wouldn’t let me touch for a month after I broke the radio, even after I bought a new one!” Tom complains between loud chews, “No hand or mouth stuff even!”

Everyone is laughing, the women more of an uncomfortable chuckle than anything, and again - Harry’s face was unreadable.

“How long do you hold out the goods when Harry fucks up? Or are you a good girl who never leaves him wanting?” Henry shoots the question towards YN, innocent YN, who looked like a spotlight had just been shown at her on stage.

“Henry,” Catherine hisses with an elbow in the ribs.

“That’s improper to discuss,” YN wipes at the corner of her lip with her napkin, “I do not do anything other than my duties as a wife.”

The tension is starting to creep in like a thick fog, though he doesn’t speak, everyone’s eyes shift towards the head of the table - Harry.

“I am hoping I heard you wrong, Henry,” Harry sits his glass down knocking loudly against the oak surface, “I know you surely didn’t ask my wife about our intimacy, She wasn’t raised in a barn, to talk crudely, or act it. I do not want you tainting her innocence with such filth.”

The way Harry regarded his wife made it seem like she didn't even know what sex was.

Which again, added to the mystery of what they even got up to (if anything) in the bedroom.

Henry flushes, his face pink from the liquor, and he shakes his head, “I apologize, I’ve had too much to drink.”

Harry gives the sarcastic, crooked smirk, “It seems most of you had. Now I wouldn't want to stress my wife out any further with this nonsense. I think it’s best we end the night here. She most likely needs a lie down from these inappropriate discussions.”

This delicate flower, YN, who just wishes everyone a good night without any fuss about Harry kicking out their guests mid-meal.

Obedient.

Submissive.

Innocent.

The perfect wife.

As soon as the last couple is gone, Harry locks the front door, and kicks his loafers off by the front door.

He truly hated his fucking neighbors.

The best part of these dinners was when they left.

YN had sat back down at the head of the table, opposite Harry, and took a long sip of red wine as she watched him walk back in.

“Those men were pigs tonight,” Harry breaks the silence, taking his spot at the opposing end, finishing off his dry whiskey, “I can’t believe the lack of respect around women.”

“Mm,” YN kicks off her black stilettos before she’s kicking her feet up onto the dining room table without a care.

The basket of rolls tumbles to the floor, a gravy pitcher toppling over and starting to drip on their expensive linen tablecloth.

The skirt of her dress rides up, revealing an expanse of her bare thigh, and enough of a peek at her hips to see no elastic in sight - no underwear.

“How do you think dinner went, my dear?” Harry asks conversationally as he pours himself a glass of Merlot from an open bottle.

YN shrugs as she finishes off her own glass, a red drop of liquid chasing down her jawline, throat, and chest - soaking into the white material of her dress.

“I wasn’t paying much attention to any of them,” YN replies honestly, the honey-sweet airheaded tone was gone and a more demure lift was in her words, “I couldn’t get the idea of you fucking me on this table out of my mind.”

Harry grins like a cat who just found a canary, setting his wine glass down, and leaning back in his chair - spreading his legs more.

“My love, watch your tongue,” Harry teases as he starts to loosen the tie around his neck, never taking his eyes off of her, “It’s improper for you to speak like that.”

YN grins sharply, uncrossing her ankles, and bending her one leg, resting her foot on the plush cushion of the chair, the other one the table - giving him an obscene, gorgeous view when she hikes up her dress even further.

“They would be mind-blown, you know that,” Harry’s voice has gone deeper, rougher as his arousal starts to sink into his bones

“Mind-blown about what?” YN switches back on that innocent, friendly tone but it doesn’t match her actions as her fingertips dance near her inner thighs.

“That you’re a fuckin�� filthy little slut for your husband,” Harry rasps as he starts to go for his belt, yanking the leather from the loops.

“That’s not how you speak in front of a lady, Mr. Chambers,” YN scolds with that faux scandalized melody, her fingers were running over her outer folds, gentle and unrushed.

“M’not in front of a lady right now though,” Harry disagrees as he shoves off his suit jacket..

“You’re not?” YN asks in surprise, doe eyes but the foot on the table purposefully knocks over a half-full bottle of wine - splashing on their rug below.

Harry just smiles, teeth gleaming white and wolfish in the low lighting, “You’re the sweetest, most proper little thing in front of company, aren’t you?”

YN blinks at him, her expression unyielding and still playing into this role they’ve constructed over the years -the perfect couple.

“You are,” Harry answers for her, “I make sure no one speaks crudely in front of you. I remind them that you’re pure, unassuming, and delicate.”

“But you’re not delicate nor anywhere near pure,” Harry continues, his hand gripping at himself through his briefs - squeezing for a bit of relief as the sight in front of him was enough to have him come.

“I am,” YN argues weakly, her index and middle finger finally parting her folds, and pressing against her already swollen clit.

Harry lets a loud laugh echo through their now quiet house, only a low static hum from a song playing in their formal living room on the record player.

“You are? It could have fooled me. You acted scandalized when Henry asked if you withhold intimacy to punish me.”

“I was scandalized,” YN lies but it isn’t with conviction, her focus isn’t great as she presses tight circles over her bud.

“I think Henry would have been scandalized if I told him that you’d never withhold it because you love cock so much. Remember when you lasted what, a half-a-day when I came home late to dinner?”

“By bedtime, you were teary-eyed, and begging me even if I’d just give you the tip, huh?” Harry pushes his hand inside his briefs to really grip him up, a hard squeeze at the base to calm himself down.

“Or he’d be scandalized to know what you’re really like when it’s just me and you. How fuckin’ dirty you are. The words that come out of that cute mouth, how cock-hungry you get, how fucking much of a brat you are when you don’t get your way.”

YN bites her lip, trying to scowl but her toes curl and her thigh muscle twitches as she rubs at herself just right.

“I’ll tell him how you sit pretty for me on your knees when I arrive home from work or how you like to sneak my fingers up your dresses under the table at work events. Should I? The list goes on.”

“They wouldn’t believe you,” YN murmurs as she lets her head fall back, showing off the length of her throat as her legs threaten to close.

“Fuckin’ right they wouldn’t because I’m a good husband, aren’t I?” Harry runs his thumb over his sensitive slit, spreading the precome down the length of his shaft.

“I make sure everyone thinks you’re a delicate little thing when you’re nothing of the sort. If only they knew, dear,” Harry tells her, there’s a heavy amount of fondness intertwined with his words.

“Show me your cock,” YN’s head tilts back up, eyes expectant and focused as she slows the friction on her bud, she could have come by now if she wanted to but she’s teasing herself.

Harry makes a show of giving himself a few rough strokes, letting an echoing groan out as all YN sees is movement under fabric.

“Get the fuck over here,” Harry orders with a new gruffness, “If you come on your fingers then you’re done for the night. And I know how greedy you are for your orgasms.”

YN likes to push limits, always, and she doesn’t move from her chair.

Instead she keeps the same sluggish pace before tracing lower to tuck to fingers in, spreading the wetness back to her clit.

“Maybe I’ll go see if Tom can help me out,” YN sighs airily as the tablecloth bunches under her heel, careless when a serving bowl of green beans flips.

Harry barks out a laugh, hand going to the root of his length because YN looked too fucking good, she looked like the definition of a sin, and he gave into temptation every time.

“I think he’d have a heart attack first,” Harry isn’t even exaggerating, “I am certain that our neighbors are convinced that you do not even know what sex is.”

“I barely have a clue,” YN laughs but it’s a stuttering quip because she's actually close to coming, her calf muscles contracting as she braces herself.

Harry’s out of his chair before YN can register it (or notice how he grabs his leather belt from the crumbled mess of his clothes), striding to the other side of the table, and without any warning, yanks her chair by the back hard.

It drags against the carpet but does what Harry had wanted it to do, makes her leg fall off the table, leaving her to grip the bottom of the chair to not fall, and effectively taking her hand away from her core.

“Harry! You fucking prick-“ YN begins to curse because she was close and she full intended on coming in the new few moments.

“Quiet,” Harry leans down to hiss in her ear, his hand coming around her front to cup her throat, not hard enough to it air flow but enough that it makes it more difficult.

“I was about to come,” YN tells him but her words are choppy, like there’s cotton balls in her mouth, and her tongue refuses to move.

“Were you about to come?” Harry mimicked her words in a parroting tone, fingers pressing in only slightly more, “And I didn’t say you could. But you’re not the obedient, submissive wife everyone thinks you are.”

YN bites his bottom lip hard when he tries to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth from behind, that was enough of an answer.

“No, they didn’t realize how hard my job is,” Harry’s voice goes sympathetic, for himself, “How impossible it is to have this needy, bratty slut of a wife who is never satisfied.”

Harry’s lip was oozing, only a drop or two of blood but his hand moves to the back of her skull, knotting in her hair, and brushing their mouths together - smearing it as if it was a blood pact.

YN doesn’t shy away from it, in fact she tries to sink her teeth back into the wound that was already there but he knew her tricks - as unpredictable as she could be sometimes.

It was almost comical, the song that comes on next.

A new one and it hummed lowly in the background, as Harry gathered her hands together behind the chair to wrap together - he couldn’t help but sing the lyrics.

“You look like an Angel.”

“Walk like an Angel.”

“Talk like an Angel.”

“But I got wise, you’re the devil in disguise.”

YN has this cocky grin on her beautiful face, perfectly applied lipstick was smeared to her chin, spotted with his swipe of blood.

Already a mess.

And all his.

With her hands secured behind her back, over the slats of the chair, it is no doubt going to make her limbs ache from holding the unnatural position.

Her chest pushed outwards, shoulders jutting broad as they try to compensate for her wrists being bound together - helpless.

“S’a pretty dress,” Harry compliments with deceiving kindness, the back of his hand running up the bare expanse of her strained arm, “Did it cost me a lot of money, my love?”

He traces the strap of her dress, hooking his finger underneath the fabric before letting it snap back against her skin.

She hadn't seen him pick up the bread knife but she feels the cold of the stainless steel against her skin when he slips the blade underneath the strap.

Sliced through like warm butter, the material falling limply away, and when he cuts through the opposite side's strap - it has his desired reaction.

Not only does the fabric fall away like scraps but it loses all structure and support, and effectively falls towards her belly.

Her tits spilling out, fully on display with the way her back was arched, and pretty nipples pebbled into perfect peaks.

YN has this snark of a grin on her face, trying not to show she's affected by what he just did, how her cunt ached into her whole body.

She loved the fucking games they played, and she flutters her eyelashes at him, “I thought you said I'm worth every penny.”

Harry stands in front of her, stepping on his suit jacket without a care that it took time for YN to starch and iron it that morning - his tie joining after he tugs it down and unknots it.

His fingers go towards the buttons of his dress shirt, the green of his eyes was barely visible but they couldn't pick, spoilt for choice.

From her face, to her tits, to her belly, to her core.

“You're the most expensive fuck I've ever paid for. I gave you my wallet, my accounts, my life,” Harry grunts as he makes her wait, only getting to the second button, his trousers split open by his hips, hanging loosely on his narrow waist.

“You act like-” YN’s words are cut off by a knock at the door, startling her into surprise because who the fuck would be knocking?

Harry peeks around the corner wall of the dining room, getting a clear view to the tall, narrow windows on either side of their front doors.

“It's Tom,” Harry informs her, moving to zip and button his pants back up, shifting them higher on his hips, “I better get that.”

“Harry,” YN stutters in a burst of adrenaline, she can't move from where she's sat - a sitting duck, vulnerable but aware of it, “You can't answer that.”

“I can't, why not, honey?” Harry’s words have this nuance of confusion, artificial and all for show, “It's the right thing to do.”

“What if…what if he sees me?” YN’s chest was heaving with a filthy mixture of arousal and nerves, “He could walk in.”

“I guess you better be quiet then,” Harry walks up to her, thumb dragging her bottom lip down before smearing her lipstick a bit more at the corner of her mouth, “Or he will come to investigate and how on earth would I explain this?”

Harry is walking out of the room before she can say anything else, leaving her alone in a almost-state of undressed with nowhere to look but their wall.

The music is quiet enough that YN can hear the conversation, Tom was naturally a boisterous man without volume control.

“Harry,” Tom greets when her husband opens the door, “I thought it best I come over and another apology for all of my behaviors. Will you grab YN so that I can extend my amends to her?”

YN’s heart seizes, skipping a beat because she wouldn't put it against Harry to push this, prod at her until he feels he's gotten under her skin.

However, YN needs to remember that Harry is already back into his 'perfect husband’ role, he's the Harry now that everyone knows him as in the neighborhood, not the one that was just in front of her.

“YN had to go lie down,” Harry tells him, making sure he sounds disappointed in his friend, “She really is delicate. Your wife may be okay with that kind of fall but she really cannot. It flusters her.”

“How the hell do you get anything from her? Did she pass out the first time she saw your prick then?” Tom chortles, a joke that isn't received well, Harry doesn't laugh.

Harry redirects though, “What was it exactly you wanted to apologize for? I really must get upstairs to check on her.”

Tom’s voice gets lower, still enough that YN can hear but it's their neighbors' attempt at a whisper, “Listen, I know you slashed my tires. It's fucking fair, alright? I got in a fight with my wife, went and got hammered at the bar, and drove home. I was drunk off my ass, I thought I was doing them in my yard. I wanted to piss my wife off.”

Harry’s voice is unsuspecting, casual, “Oh? I didn't know it was you who did those burnouts. I thought it was those teenagers who drive up and down the road at all hours of the night. Apology accepted for the burnouts but I didn't slice your tires. I hate to break it to you.”

“Oh god, I'm sorry for even thinking you did. I just assumed -” Tom begins to babble, anxious because he just accused Harry of a crime that he had no evidence to corroborate said hypothesis.

“As long as it doesn't happen again, you know?” Harry’s tone is still amicable, unbothered but there's an underlying threat that could not be mistaken for anything else, “It really upset my wife and you know how hard it is to control an emotional woman.”

YN rolls her eyes at that but she does admire how well Harry played his part as the stereotypical husband like every other man who lived in this community.

“Can I come in to apologize? I'll be quick, I am so utterly embarrassed,” Tom nearly begs, hoping to not have disrupted their ‘friendship’ with his nonsense.

There's footfall on the marble, YN’s adrenaline starts pumping through her veins because even as she starts around - there is nowhere for her to hide.

Unable to do anything.

Tied to this heavy chair, she couldn't possible move in this awkward position.

Shoulders and arms were already radiating an ache from being held in the same way for this amount of time.

The only modesty she can muster is to close her legs as tight as they can possibly go.

YN starts taking these greedy inhales to try to not freak the fuck out, on displayed with her tits bare and though her legs were closed - it really wasn't doing much to hide the fact she wasn't wearing underwear, skirt of her dress ruffled around her hips.

“She's already gone upstairs to lie down. I was supposed to bring her an adavan and martini to help her relax. I will pass on the message, Tom,” Harry redirects much to YN’s relief, chest starting to not feel as tight.

“Sorry, again. I really admire you, Harry. You just…Every man in this town wishes their wife was half the woman YN is. A true housewife,” Tom means it as a compliment, a disgustingly masochistic banter that insults not only his wife but all women.

“She is wonderful,” Harry agrees wistfully, everything happening in their dining room begs to differ but he acquiesces to Tom nonetheless.

The door closes, the deadbolt clicking, and Harry’s leather loafers were tapping against the floor as he makes his way back.

Harry was observant, in tune with every want and need of his wife, and now is no different as he steps into the room.

Her face must be a dead giveaway.

Harry strides right up to her, gripping her chin tightly enough that her muscle twitches, and he brings his face to hers - eye level.

There's annoyance in his words, the green cutting like sea glass, “You know I would never ever let anyone see you like this. Why the fuck were you worried for even a second?”

YN tries to sound tough, “You don't know! He could have stormed in. You…you didn't know.”

Harry’s fingers move from her chin, to her jaw but end up in her hair.

He knots his fingers in, tugging her forward until their noses bump. “You know as well as I do that I would have fuckin’ slit his throat before he got within view of you. He wouldn't have left this house.”

YN pushes forward, trying to button their lips together but instead of moving backwards, he moves her head back by the roots of hair.

“Apologize to me,” Harry hisses lowly, teeth set like he's resisting to bite her, claim her as an animal would their mate.

YN knows Harry just as well as he knows her.

YN knows that he's upset that she would for a second doubt it.

“I love you,” YN tells him, tilting her neck back so she's leaning into his grip, showing him all the power he truly has over her.

Harry doesn't kiss her lips but instead, the center of her throat, and then further down to her collarbone until he's at the top swell of her breast.

His hand comes to thumb the skin right below her bellybutton, dragging downwards until can fit the whole of her cunt in his palm.

“Wet f’me,” Harry murmurs against her skin, he licks her nipple, smoothing his tongue over one before he’s blowing cold air on it, “I think I'm going to make you work for it.”

“No,” YN whines pleadingly because when he made her work, fuck, he made her really fucking word for it - sweat, tears, spit, and slick.

“I've been such a great husband,” Harry chides as his index finger traces up her seam, ghosting over her bud, “Am I not? Who covered for you? Who always covers for you, my little fucking devil?”

“You do,” YN mashes her back molars together, jaw aching with strain as she keeps her hips planted to the cushioned seat.

“What did I cover for this time? Say it,” Harry middle finger joins his index to split her lips, exposing where she was swollen for him.

His thumb pressed firmly on her bud, rubbing in precise circles, the surest way to get her coming as quickly as possible.

YN can't help her greed, bucking forward into the touch, and riding down on his thumb to get the exact friction she wanted.

“If you come,” Harry’s voice is lulling, a false sense of security, “You won't be able to sit at our next neighborhood dinner because you're ass will ache that fuckin’ bad.”

“Then take your hand away, fucker,” YN bites out, wetting her body lip, it was too good to pull away, and she wasn't far off from an orgasm.

A hand comes to her cheek, not hard but stinging as he smacks it, “Who the fuck do you think you're talking to? You aren't supposed to speak back to your husband.”

YN grins at him, only fueled by the slap, rough was the name of the game, and she sits back in her chair - unbothered.

“Filthy fuckin’ girl,” Harry grunts as he takes a step back, admiring his wife as she keeps her legs spread lewdly - pink and puffy, perfect.

YN flutters her eyelashes, innocent and coy.

“Now answer me, sweetheart. What did I cover for? Why did I have to lie to Tom?” Harry tilts her head, eyes narrowed and tracking her every twitch, “Hm?”

Harry can't help himself, coming closer to the pet at the patch of downy hair on her mound, touching everywhere but her clit.

“Because I slashed his tire,” YN talks through her teeth, willing herself to keep her hips from moving off the chair below.

“That motherfucker,” Harry had growled when he came in from watering the grass, “Tore up our front yard with that cheap piece of shit Chevy. If I wasn't going to be late for work, I would go knock him the fuck out.”

YN had been sitting in their breakfast room, sipping on honey-lavender tea in a silk, lace robe that was a deep royal blue.

“I don't want to see you upset,” YN frowns as she puts her cup down, standing up, and trailing over to him, “I'll call the landscapers today, have them fit us in.”

Harry tugs her into a hug, a kiss on her hair, “Do not worry about me, my love. I'm okay. Just pissed off. I've got more important things than Tom to care about.”

“What time will you be home?” YN asks as she blinks her pretty, twinkling doe eyes up at him, arms around his narrow waist.

Harry brings up his arm to look at his watch but sees that his wrist is bare, “God damn. I left my watch upstairs. I'll be right back.”

Harry pulls away, the tension in his broad shoulders was a tell that he was much more enraged then he was letting on.

His expensive Italian leather loafers clicking against the marble as he storms back up the staircase towards their bedroom.

YN hated seeing her husband upset, she craved to see him happy, and she would do anything for him.

It's why she's not thinking twice before grabbing the sharpest knife from the butcher block in the kitchen, tucking inside her robe, and going out the back door.

YN is quick, eyes darting to make sure that no one has seen her as her bare feet hit the dewy grass between their yards.

YN pulls her arm back, using all of her force to push the sharp blade into rubber, and loves it when she hears the air start to moan out as it escapes.

Fuck Tom.

YN scurried back to the house and hoped that she would be efficient enough that her husband hadn't come back down stairs yet.

That was not the case.

He was standing at the back glass door, observing with pursed smile, hands in the pockets of his dress pants with his watch reflecting off the kitchen light.

YN bites her lip, caught out as he opens the door for her, and ushers her in.

His voice is dry, bleak, “Give me the knife.”

Oh shit.

She's in trouble.

At least she thinks that she is.

Until he kisses the side of her head, opens the back door once again, and strides across the lawns like she just had down.

He makes it appear effortless when he slashed the remaining three good tires, pulling the blade down so that there's no hope of patching the rubber.

Harry runs the blunt tip against his door, scraping off the paint like gum on the sidewalk before he's walking back towards the house.

“Darling, you have to slice when you do it. All four will be at least two of his paychecks, a small price for what I'll have to pay the landscaper,” Harry tells her nonchalantly like they were talking about the weather and not a crime they both committed.

Harry glances at his watch, “Shit. I have to go. I'll see you later, alright? Be good f’me even though you're always such a good girl.”

And it's sincere because that's how twisted their relationship is.

YN committing a crime to seek retribution for Harry’s anger was the most romantic sign of her love that he could ask for.

The first contact that meets her clit is his palm, when he smacks her flat over her bundle of nerves, and it was hard enough to make her jump.

Her legs start to close but he roughly shoved a knee into her thigh to force them to stay open, “What? You're so tough, right? Surely, surely you can take a few hits, my love.”

YN grits her teeth, molars clashing as the residual pain radiates down her thighs, and at the same time, it had her pulsing.

Her wetness was soaking the cushion, there was nothing that got her slick faster than when he wasn't worried about his heavy handedness.

“Can you take it?” Harry drops his hand to her center, thumb tucking up the hood of her clit, pressing tightly against her bud, and it's too much straight on.

Her legs twitch, dying to close because she was throbbing with sensitivity, pinpricks make her eyes feel tingly because it's too much every other second.

When Harry asks her that question, it is rhetorical, he doesn't wants an answer because he would fluidly switch into something softer, more coddling if she needed.

It wasn't.

YN presses her lips together, refusing to give him answer as she bites on her tongue to point she can taste metallic.

“S’funny, most men can't even find their wife’s clit or don't care about it at all. Aren't you lucky you have me?” Harry’s smile is wolfish, mean, and a different version of her husband, “I've found it? Haven't I?”

He accompanies his words with an unexpected smack before his thumb right up again, no reprieve or mercy for her.

It felt fucking amazing and like hell all at once.

She just needs a bit lighter pressure, slower circles, and that would be it.

Harry knows that and is choosing to torture her instead, not concerned about actually getting her off at the moment.

“Is that all I need to shut you up, pet? A thumb on your clit? I'll have my hand up your dress every second of the day then,” Harry chuckles cruelly, pressing and pressing before his fingers are crooked up inside her walls, squeezing at the unexpected, and robbing her of the stimulation on her clit.

YN wants to hurt him, dig her nails into his back muscles until he bleeds on her, sink her teeth into his thigh where no one but her will see the healing bloody marks.

“Fuck you,” YN can't help herself because he's ruthless, finds it funny, and she feels like if she doesn't come within the minute she’ll explode.

Harry withdrawals his fingers, wiping them crudely on her cheek, dragging to her lips before he's parting her lips and pressing down on her tongue.

When he puts pressure there, it causes her to gag and her eyes instantly start to water, and it shouldn't surprise him when her teeth meet his knuckles.

Harry grunts out in pain when she clamps down which causes him to pinch her tongue, she yelps, and it gives him enough time to remove his fingers.

“S’funny, all these men in the neighborhood want you, huh?” Harry asks condescendingly, his hand goes to the back of the chair, and he tips it.

Her reflexes cause her to twitch, trying to find stable ground but she can't because of the way she's tied up.

Harry keeps her on the edge of falling, her heart lodged in her throat.

“But they don't know what a disobedient little bitch you are?” Harry lets the chair come back down with a loud clatter, “Don't listen to a word when you're hungry for cock. They should be lucky their bored wives aren't so needy.”

“I'm not needy,” YN disagrees sharply, they both knew she was lying through her teeth but she couldn't let him just say those things without a rebuttal.

“You think Janet or Catherine bend over any surface for their husband, forgo panties while they clean so that their men get a glimpse of their cunt, or wake up in the morning dripping and soft?”

“You love it,” YN manages to keep her voice steady when Harry swipes his finger through the whipped cream on top of the pineapple upside cake that was untouched on the table.

“I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world,” Harry agrees, momentarily sincere, a break from his character.

He wipes the sweet, tacky fluff on her nipples before going back for more, destroying the dessert as he grabs a handful of the cake.

Harry smears it from her collarbones, all the way down her belly, and it was absolutely fucking messy as crumbs strayed everywhere, the syrupy sauce sticky on her skin,

“Harry,” YN gasps because she's surprised, she hadn't expected him to rub the cake on her, their dining room was a mess, everything was destroyed.

“Can't let this dessert go to waste. You made my favorite cake, I have to try it,” Harry kneels down, shoving between her legs and leaning forward.

He flattens his tongue above her belly button before trailing in up on a straight line, licking off the clumps of cake in turn.

“Mm,” Harry rumbles as he licks up her sternum, between the valley of her breasts, and his hand is digging to her ribs - keeping her still, “I can't decide which tastes better, your cunt or this cake.”

Harry carelessly grabs a smaller handful but he rubs it from below her navel to her mound, stopping right where her folds begin.

YN was dying, watching him, feeling him lick the traces off of her body with no rush, as if he had all the time in the world.

He bites at her belly after he's cleaned off the cake, making YN’s stomach suck in reflexively because it hurts and she is hazy from all the different sensations.

When he gets down to where she's aching, her heartbeat palpable in her center, he lazily cleans it off her mound.

“Sweet as pie,” Harry hums as he spreads her open, licking into her hole but ignoring where she actually needs him, “Or should I say pineapple upside down cake?”

It was starting to get overwhelming, the arousal was all that was plastered in her thoughts, and nobody else wants their husband to fuck then like she does.

None of them are married to Harry.

Her arms are aching, a dull shout from being held in the same position for so long.

“I love when you're all bound up. I can do whatever I please, right?” Harry takes these harsh laps at her clit before pulling back between each, thumb dancing around the seam of her core.

YN can't even bring herself to respond, it was warm in the house as it was, and sweat was beading from her temples.

“That's what Father Matthew said in marriage counseling before our wedding. Do you remember? He said that your body is mine, that you shall offer yourself whenever I wish, for my fulfillment and satisfaction.”

YN nods, she remembers Father Matthew saying that but it had been a part of their personas in the first place to go, they weren't religious, and neither practiced Catholicism.

It was all an act, like most other aspects of their lives, giving off the appearance that they were normal like every other young couple.

YN had sat prim and proper, agreeing to the priest’s misogynistic words as he droned on about how waiting until marriage to have sex was the utmost important.

To prove how wrong Father Matthew was, Harry had encouraged YN to tie him to their bedpost.

She then proceeded to edge him until he was pink, panting, and bruised on his chest, inner thighs from vicious love bites.

Just to prove the point that if her body was his, then Harry was to offer his body in the same way.

“And you're such a good little wife, aren't you?” Harry accentuates his words by pushing two fingers into her, curling towards her plush walls, and finding her spot like nothing.

YN can't help but moan, to finally have something to get her there after teetering on the edge of losing her orgasm because he knew how to keep her there.

“Always so generous with this pretty cunt,” Harry’s thumb comes to rub at her bud, over the hood to dull the sensitivity a bit - how she liked it, “I can't believe it's all mine. For the rest of our lives, baby, this is mine to fuck, eat, and worship. I love this pussy, just like every other bit of you.”

It was actually sweet, earnest words if you filtered through the crude accompaniments because he was loyal, madly in love with her, and always strived to make her happy through the thick of the chaos.

“Sweet thing prepares dinner, entertains our guests, and everyone would be scandalized to know what crosses my mind when you're bringing out dessert,” Harry's mouth finds her nipples, he gets sidebarred for a moment as he wraps his lips around the peak, pulling it hard as his other hand continues on.

Harry knows this is a monologue, her brain is too fuzzy, and all she can think about is an orgasm - all his words are barely registering, like he's speaking underwater.

“All I could think about was knocking it out of your hands,” Harry's breath is cold in her nipple, grazing with his plump lips on every word, “Flipping your dress up, eating your cunt from behind, and making them watch this proper housewife get treated how she likes, how you beg to be my slut.”

“But you can't be, baby. M’sorry to break it to you,” Harry coos as he presses his hand stops, it fucking stops, “Can't be a slut when you're a married woman who only opens her legs her husband.”

There's fat, pathetic tears dribbling down her cheeks because he had tricked her, she had truly thought that she was going to be able to come.

Her chest was heaving, she was panting like a water-deprived dog, and she knew what she had to look like.

Hair frizzed out from humidity and perspiration, her mascara running down her wet cheeks with her lipstick smeared off the corner of her mouth.

And Harry was looking at her like she hung the moon, that she was the most beautiful piece of art in the museum he was visiting.

“Darling,” Harry laughs but it's not mean, it's genuinely as if she's taken his breath away and he's in awe, “Darling.”

“Please, H, please,” YN chokes out unashamed in how vulnerable she was right now, crying because she's aching, and her body is stressed out to the point of near exhaustion.

Harry leans forward, kissing her forehead which was almost obscenely chaste for their current situation as he leans behind her to unbind her wrists.

Her face pressed into his chest as he reaches, her lips founds whatever is close, mouthing at the skin of his pectoral muscle - desperate to taste him, to have him without the game.

YN doesn't realize that she's been babbling, a noncoherent string of pleas, “Want you, please. I just want you. Need you.”

“Sweet girl,” Harry hums as he understands just how floaty she has become, her eyes moony and glazed as she struggles to focus, “You are doing so good for me.”

“Want t’come,” YN’s replies with staggered syllables, blinking at him with heavy eyelids, “M’aching.”

Harry chuckles at her, it's disgustingly fond because he's that in love when he brings her arms to her front, kissing her quiet when she whines at the ache.

Now that her hands are free, she's gripping and ripping at whatever she can sink her claws into because she can't wait any longer.

Harry tries to help, stepping out of his trousers, and tugging down his briefs until he’s exposed again, pretty and thick.

The angry red of the tip, along with the glistening drops of pre-come that were sliding down the shaft were a sign of how turned on he was.

“How do you want it?” Harry asks as he cradles her face, pressing kisses to her cheeks, lips, neck as his fingers tweak her nipple, “Lady’s choice.”

“Want t’ride you,” YN doesn't hesitate, hoping her words came out intelligible because her head was spinning.

YN had a few lousy lays before Harry, nothing to write home about in her teenage years.

She was positive that no other man on this earth could get her even close to the nirvana that her husband drove her to.

It was something she would never be able to regret or explain if she had to write it out - it would be mindless ramblings without true words.

Harry obliges as he helps her stand, wobbly legs as he takes her spot, and huffs out a mean jest, “My arse is wet from your slick. Darling, you're going to have to take my slacks to the dry cleaner. Hopefully they can get out the marks of a naughty girl’s cunt.”

YN doesn't respond, far too focused on straddling his waist, and gripping his around the girth of his base which filled her hand impressively - fingers struggling to meet.

“Hey,” Harry tries to grab her attention but she’s too focused on lining him up to her center, her hands were clumsy because of the livewire that was running through her body, his voice gets firmer when he barks out, “Hey.”

He grabs her wrist, tugging it off of his cock, and wrangles both of her hands into one of his.

Harry holds them against her chest, making her sit back on his thighs, and the tip of his length is brushing right up against the seam of her lips - if she could move forward a little bit, she may be able to get friction on her clit.

YN is far too enticed by trying to wriggle her hips forward, her eyes zoned in on him because he was the prettiest - in all aspects from his eyes to his nose to his arms to what lay in the cradle of his hips.

“How can you go so dumb for a cock you haven’t even gotten in you yet?” Harry scoffs as he uses the grip on her wrists to yank her forward until he is pressing through her folds.

YN has tears tracing down over her lips as she sniffles, her mouth twisted into a sad pout, “Stop being mean t’me. Just want you.”

Harry knows instantly, knows that's her way of voicing that she's hitting a limit, and she was ready for him to be nice.

“Okay, okay,” Harry simpers as he lets go of her wrists, allowing her to find balance gripping his shoulders as he takes hold of himself, “Be patient for me. Always such a good fuckin’ girl. Fuck, I love you.”

YN’s eyes squeeze shut with instant relief when he helps her sink down until her bum is flush against him once again.

“Baby,” YN lets out the mewl, her head tilting back as she begins to move her hips, more like a roll to get the friction on her clit, pulsing and swollen.

“You squeeze me like a dream,” Harry groans as he kneads her hip, allowing her to move how she needed to nudge her spot and give her bud that extra love.

Harry reaches behind, hand knitting in the hair by her nape to pull her back, to smear their lips together as she moves her hips in this crude, self-indulgent way.

“That's it, greedy girl,” Harry goads as his mouth finds her nipple again, sucking at it before pulling back with a audible pop, “S’all yours to use.”

“Only mine,” YN grits out, possessive even when she was floaty, that never dulled- the claim she felt over him.

Harry kisses the center of her center, “Of course, my love. M'your husband, I vowed that it's yours. I'm not like Bart who doesn't take that shit seriously.”

“I'd cut your dick off if you cheated,” YN manages to scrape out between heavy breaths, she was close, and trying to extend the sensations.

“I'd hand you the knife,” Harry agrees as he grips her waist with more firmness, starts moving her hips in these forceful, direct motions, “I don't have time. When m’asleep I dream of you, when I'm working I'm thinking about coming home to you, and when my cock gets hard - your the only reason it does because I'm thinking about this cunt, about the cute noises you make when you feel good. I’d fucking make a deal with the devil if that meant I got you.”

“You already made the deal,” YN let out this devious giggle, ringing through the quiet space of their sprawling home.

A home they had earned from other means than the others in their neighborhood, it was chaos wrapped in a suburbia bow.

A hideaway from their lives outside of this cul-de-sac of rich, over-privileged men with wives who didn't think for themselves.

It wasn't just Harry brings in the money, no, they brought it in together, and no one would be the wiser to it.

Not their neighbors, their family, the police - everyone was clueless to who the most wanted criminals in America were.

The crime duo who had shoot-outs with police, duffels filled with banded stacks of cash, gold bars, jewelry that was so expensive there wasn't an assigned value.

All in their vault hidden in their walk-in closet, where the secrets, the evidence, and the reward was hidden from unsuspecting guests in their home.

“I'd make the deal a million times over,” Harry replies as he leans forward to bite at the hinge of her jaw, “Just to have you squirming on my cock.”

YN digs her nails into the meat of his shoulder, eye fluttering like butterfly rings as they struggle to stay open, and her mouth drops in a moan.

“Harry,” YN throws her head back, her hips rolling into the cradle of his hips with force, keeping her clit smushed to his pubic bone, and there was slick coating the trimmed hair around the base of him.

“Fuck yeah, c’mon. Keep going,” Harry grits out because his balls were throbbing, begging for a release after she'd just squeezed him like a god damn vice.

YN always gets lazy after an orgasm, especially after being edged, and her hips are starting to stall into sluggish, barely there effort.

Harry takes it upon himself to move her how he wants, gripping her hips, and she whines when he digs his fingers into the meat of her love handles.

“If you didn't want it to hurt, you would move your hips yourself,” Harry reminds her as he graciously kneads bruises into the spot, guiding her into a swivel where he's persistently nudging her spot, “Fuckin’ move.”

YN doesn't ever take orders well so instead she slouches forward until she's hugging him, their chests pressed, and effectively putting all her weight on him.

Instead of getting frustrated, it melts Harry, and he wraps his arms around her and pulls her as close as possible.

“I fucking love you,” Harry murmurs against her hair, his feet planted flat on the floor as he fucks up into her with brutal but paced thrusts, “Did so good for me. I want you to give me another one.”

YN sinks her teeth into his shoulder, he doesn't acknowledge it as he angles his hips better to give her clit the stimulation she needs.

“O-oh,” YN mewls when it suddenly sparked a much less intense but still as good orgasm, “Harry.”

“I know, sweetheart. Fuck, you're going to make me come,” Harry assures her as he picks up the speed of his actions, teeth getting, “You take me so well. God, this cunt is mine, yeah? Fucking tell me.”

“Yours, S'yours,” YN whines because her body is tired, starting to ache in all the places he’d dug into with his fingers, had hit, and grabbed.

Harry wraps her hair around his knuckles but he's completely gentle when he goads her to move her head back.

He buttons their lips together, in a kiss sweet enough to make your teeth rot, a contradiction to what they'd just done.

Because despite all the show, they were a love story, and Harry loved YN so deeply that he wouldn't hesitate to take a bullet for her, push her out of the way to take the brunt.

Without thinking he would.

He has shielded her body countless times with his own, was grazed by a slugger to his thigh, and shoulder before.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” Harry grits out through clenched teeth, moving her down harder until she purposefully clenched to get him to come.

“Shit, that's it's,” Harry tilts his head back, smiling when YN starts smudging kisses to his throat in a goading support, “That cunt is a fuckin’ dream.”

YN giggles as he comes down, brushing his hair off his face, going into her normal caring mode as she starts to fuss over him.

He doesn't allow it for more than a moment, despite her pout because it was his job to take care of her, his duty as her husband.

“You're absolutely filthy,” Harry chuckles as he helps her stand up in front of him, sticky, wet, bruised, and his softening cock gives a weak twitch of interest, “Let's get up to the bathroom, quick shower before bed, yeah?”

“The food,” YN motions to the mess around them, everything was a disaster, “I have to clean this up first, H.”

“I'll do it. You did so much today,” Harry assures her because it was true, she was phenomenal, and the least her could do is clean up all the remnants, “I want to get you clean and curled up in our bed. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

“It's Coastal Trust Bank, in Santa Monica, yeah?” YN asks as he guides her towards the staircase, her movements languid and strained.

“I have it mapped out already, we're going to hit it at closing this time. They only close up with three employees at the end of the night. A manager and two tellers, not too many people to wrangle up,” Harry informs her, casually as if they're planning a weekend getaway.

“I want the keys to the safety deposit boxes. I want a Diamond tennis bracelet,” YN grumbles because she has yet to find one that she likes, there were at least seven sitting in her vault that weren't exactly what she wanted.

Harry shakes his head with a laugh, dimples popping as they walk up the stairs, “Or we could just buy you one, darling.”

“S’not as fun,” YN frowns in disagreement, it gave her a sick satisfaction to have someone else's hard earned money on her wrist as they yearned for their belonging back.

“I'll get you the keys to deposit boxes, anything you want,” Harry placates because it will also keep her occupied while he's shoving stacks of cash into the duffle bags he had splayed open.

“God, you're so romantic,” YN hums without any jest, this was their love, their secret, and the life they had created together.

YN didn't get nervous anymore, not when she walked into the bank at six-fifty, ten minutes before closing in a pretty bit plain tailored dress, a purse on her shoulder, and a coat over her forearm.

YN gives a fake name, the name of someone who actually patronizes the business, and asks questions about how to get a loan for a car.

The teller pulls out a binder, rifling through stacks of paper with small print, finger tracing over the page to find what he's looking for.

YN has to play the part when a litany of loud noises comes from the front entrance, all three employees and her look instantly.

Harry was dressed completely in black, covering every inch of his skin, gloves to disguise his hands, and a balaclava to only show the piercing twinkle of his eyes in the fluorescent lighting.

He had straps of artillery across his chest, two guns sling over his back to make an X, and a shotgun in hand as he pointed it towards them all.

“Get on the fucking ground!” Harry roars loudly, booming and frightening as all of them instinctively put their hands up in surrender.

Harry keeps an eye on them while he barricades the front door, he had already done so from the outside for the other exits - no escape.

YN matches the energy of the rest of them, tears streaming down her cheeks as she kneels on the ground until it's her turn.

Harry makes a point of binding her last, with zip ties around her wrists but they both know it's a trick pair - all she needs to do is use a bit of force and they'll break for her.

“Don't hurt the lady,” The manager begs as Harry roughly shoved YN towards the particular door, barking at her to sit back down and don't fucking move.

Harry turns to glance at the manager, “I'm going to kill her unless you open that fucking vault and hand me the money without any trouble.”

YN subtly nudges his foot.

“And the master key to the safety deposit boxes,” Harry facts on because even in the middle of a heist, he's still a doting husband.

warnings: Bonnie & Clyde AU mixed with DWD, mean H, d/s undertones, light bdsm (hands tied behind back), name calling, hitting, blood, guns, crime, knives, edging, overstimulation

I absolutely love this. I put a lot of work into it and it is definitely one of my favorite pieces. I would love to know your thoughts!

#harry styles writing #harry styles masterlist #update #harry styles #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #dwd #dont worry darling

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foxes-that-run · 1 year ago

Text

2021 Haylor Timeline

Timeline Tag, or years 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023 and 2024.

2 January - Harry at Jeffs wedding with OW. Holding hands at wedding photos - the Paparazzi Clint and his partner follow Olivia to a hotel in Santa Barbara. He later does an hour long podcast on following them and explains he then realised Harry was there and takes photos. After a few phone calls, the two photographers discover rumors of a romantic relationship between Harry and Olivia. 10 minutes later, photographed them together. in Nanny tell all Nanny said Olivia was still texting Jason to say she loved him, that Olivia was pretending to not have service. Nanny found out she was at the wedding online.

3 January - walking with OW in Santa Barbara

4 January - Harry hike in LA

15 January - Ted Lasso Season 2 starts filming London, in Nanny Tell all nanny said that Ted confronted her on the plane there about her telling Olivia that Jason had been crying and not coping. Jason then offered the Nanny a life coach to get info out of her and they were attending therapy with the Nanny.

18 January - Coney Island released as a single.

13 January - Taylor, Joe his mum walk London

14 February Olivia at Harry’s LA house with luggage. Don't worry Darling filming wraps. On the 21st Taylor Lover tour cancelled.

16 February - E News Harry and OW fly to London together. DWD wraps, Harry OW cast photo

20 February - OW near Jason Sudeikis /her kids London house

6 March - Oliva posts photo of Branston Beans from Harry's Kitchen, the curtains can be seen. Lockdown laws mean she should not have been able to travel there and was bragging about it and posting inside his house.

10 March Instead of congratulating Harry on the nomination Zayn posted “F the Grammys”

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15 March -Talk at the Grammys, Taylor and Harry part of small group of attendees. Harry goes over to Taylor and they are polite, Harry seems a little awkward and says “well it was nice to see you”. He keeps looking at her during his acceptance speech for record of the year.

Taylor wrote High Infidelity and WCS with Aaron Dessner while in LA for the Grammy's, when she saw Harry & J Mayer.

Niall and Liam congratulate Harry on his Grammy win, Zayn and Louis do not.

31 March - architect of Harry’s Erskine House renovations posts photos of the interior to their website. It has a black, wood pale grey palette with pink stairs

13, -25 April - OW with Harry london

April 27 - Joe leaves UK to Belfast to film.

May 11 - HS & TS both at Brit awards (the 26th was a blood moon)

May - Harry’s bassist since HS1, Adam Pendergast, leaves love band (date from his LinkedIn)

20 May - Harry and Olivia dinner at Refuel Bar & Restaurant at The Soho Hotel. ET Rumours Joe and Taylor engaged.

15 June - Harry seen with fans wearing Apollo eleven tshirt

21 June - Harry wrapped My Policeman in Italy, started in Feb. Released 1 September 2022. Holiday in Italy

2 July - renegade released

3 July - Harry at England v Ukraine game Italy

8 July - Harry and Olivia on yacht and in Italy

26 July - Charlotte Clarke (Harry’s backup singer) said she was let go and doesn’t understand why. won’t be on HSLOT

28 July - Taylor posts for folklore' anniversary, "It’s been one year since we escaped the real world together and imagined ourselves someplace simpler." with a photo from Donegal Ireland. Heavily TTPD coded with Victorian gown, like the Betty speech’s on eras tour and lakes (poets), two coffee cups too, was it already a double album?! Coffee also as in the end of the Karma MV. Joe posted photos from the same trip on July 22nd

9 August - 26 August Harry in studio maybe mixing Harry's House in the behind scenes photos here you can see outfits he wore in LA on these dates.

4 September – 22 July 2023 - Love on Tour, Harry has a new bassist Elin Sandberg

7 September - Taylor in Belfast visiting Joe. Red TV entirely recorded at Kitty Committee Belfast UK (her home)

9 September - Taylor at Toronto Film Festival and to premiere all too well

11 September - Harry at Toronto Film Festival to premiere My policeman, talks about wasted time being the worst thing in presser

17 September - wildest dreams TV released, TikTok about recording Red TV and a glitch. Harry and Olivia in Phili with Xander, max and family

May 11 - HS & TS both at Brit awards (the 26th was a blood moon)

May - Harry’s bassist since HS1, Adam Pendergast, leaves love band (date from his LinkedIn)

May 24 - Joe and Taylor together in Paris

3 June - Harry OW her parents London

21 June - Harry wrapped My Policeman in Italy, started in Feb. Released 1 September 2022.

30 June - H Holiday in Italy

2 July - renegade released

8 July - Harry and Olivia on yacht and in Italy

13 July - Jason sudokis GQ that he still doesn’t know why they broke up and it ended in November 2020. Harry mentioned.

14 July - HSLOT announced for September

26 July - Charlotte Clarke (Harry’s backup singer) said she was let go and doesn’t understand why. won’t be on HSLOT

7 August - OW and Harry had guests at house, Harry has moustache and greets someone.

9 August - 26 August Harry LA in studio maybe mixing Harry's House in the behind scenes photos here you can see outfits he wore in LA on these dates. Walking with Olivia 19 August

31 August - Taylor and Joe hiking Franklin Canyon

4 September – 22 July 2023 - Love on Tour, Harry has a new bassist Elin Sandberg. OW at first show.

7 September - Taylor in Belfast visiting Joe. Red TV entirely recorded at Kitty Committee Belfast UK (her home)

9 September - Taylor at Toronto Film Festival and to premiere all too well

10 September - Harry golfing in Dallas

11 September - Harry at Toronto Film Festival to premiere My policeman, talks about wasted time being the worst thing in presser

17 September - wildest dreams TV released, TikTok about recording Red TV and a glitch. Harry and Olivia in Phili with Xander, max and family

18 September - Harry seen with Olivia near her parents in DC before show there

22 September - first heart kiss since 2018! St Paul - Falling, with Two Ghosts intro (4:31). Then again weekly till the end of the year

25 September - Taylor London Lena's wedding.

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29 September - & 1 Oct Harry played Nashville and wore a white satin outfit, he played with his rings while performing Beautiful. Harry plays To Be so Lonely for 9 shows then never again, including Nashville N2 and NY. In Nashville looks up. OW at shows

3 October - OW parents at HSLOT but she is in LA.

9 October - Harry in Florida dinner

13 October - fan sends to DM that they saw Harry, no OW at Pittsburgh cathedral of learning with “more police and security than I knew existed” wouldn’t have recognised him if it wasn’t for them.

16 October - Harry wore “all things must pass” hoodie NYC OW walked awkwardly holding him. One security person.

22 October - one more photo of Taylor and joe in the bathroom leaked (the proper selfie), photos from 2016 leaked in 2020

25 October - Harry seems to be in a bad mood when he first goes on stage in Boston, also wearing no rings. Heart kiss in Falling, OW there and not seen with him until harryween in a week.

26 October - Taylor posts TikTok "Autumn Lovers RISE" as a reenactment of a 27 September 2017 Tumblr post. She writes lyrics to ATW "just between us did the love affair maim you" "and Plaid stuff and ankle boots" she's wearing a skirt but says 'stuff' plaid shirts and ankle Chelsea boots is Harry in 2011-2013. And "Maroon/Hunter Green" The ATW move included a book coming out 13 years later about the love affair.

30 October - Harry dressed as Dorothy at harryween MSG NY, Olivia as Dolly Parton posted photos with exercise bike and boobs. Olivia left for LA.

31 October - Moon Harryween Harry played MEDICINE!! For the first time since 2018

1 November - rumors Harry and OW fighting

10 November - heart kiss in falling. Tumblr anon said about OW “I was working at the venue in Sacramento when he played during LOT. Her backstage privileges were revoked after the show prior to that...which was..I think...Portland. Our backstage security was instructed to not allow her backstage under any circumstances. She didn't even arrive to the venue with him. From what I understood from Sacramento through the end of that tour her security access was no more than say..contest winners..radio personalities etc. I was shocked at the time that they lasted another year since there was clearly trouble in paradise.”

11 November - Harry has a bruise on his back I. Love on tour backstage photo

12 November - Red TV released Harry wears red in his show on the 11th. All Too Well Short Film premiere Dylan O'Brien (who is in ATW film) is included in this footage of Austin and Dylan cheering when Jack plays Question..? in the Studio. Appears on Fallon and says she easter eggs 3 years in advance in reference to ATW.

16 November - Pleasing launch with Harry on bike photo on cover of Dazed

17 November – Taylor leaves NYC for Panama to go see Joe. Taylor posts a drunk TikTok from Panama. On the 20th she went to the national theater and leaves on the 22nd. Joe stays and films. Midnights written while gone

21 November - Last time Taylor is photographed in public for 3 months is the SNL performance for All too Well

25 November Rolling Stone noted the Haylor call and response “the long-running songwriting badminton between her and Harry Allegedly is pop call-and-response the way it ought to be”

28 November- 13 December Harry MIA. after his shows. OW seen alone in LA

1 December Taylor wore Gucci lion ring to Zoe’s kravitz birthday throwback photo shared day after YLM date identified by Jack.

5 December - You're losing me written. Love on Tour in Buenos Aires

28 December - Harry and OW Italy. Fans post they saw them Hampstead NYE, no photos.

Continue to 2022

#haylor #Youtube #haylor timeline #2021

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