#international best dressed list

[welcome2thetop]

T.O.P has made the 2023 International Best Dressed List! This list has been around since 1940 and is voted by hundreds of people in the fashion industry!

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[be4chywritez]

sweet like honey | max verstappen

max verstappen x fem!reader

"you're to sweet for me."

Max doesn't like how nice you are towards him.

beachy’s masterlist🐚

prompt list

Max isn't sure why he doesn’t like you. You’ve never wronged him, never talked bad about him, or been rude in any way. But for some odd reason, Max hates you.

Maybe it’s the Verstappen genes kicking in, that innate tendency to be an asshole. Or maybe it’s bred into him to keep sweet things like you at a distance. So, you can imagine his shock and horror when he sees you perched on the couch, flipping through a book in his friend’s Italian villa.

Your eyes meet his, and a smile graces your lips. You place the book in your lap, and he watches as your eyes brighten at the sight of him, the same way they might light up at the sight of a pretty flower.

Your small yellow sundress barely covers your upper thighs, and Max can’t help but stare before quickly looking down at his phone, not wanting to be too obvious about his boyish gawking.

“Max,” you say softly, your voice warm and rich like honey, drawing his attention whether he wants it or not.

He hears you, of course, but pretends to focus on his phone. His thumb moves slowly over the screen, though nothing he sees holds his interest. It’s the way you say his name that sticks in his mind, making it impossible to ignore.

“It’s nice to see you,” you continue, your tone sincere as if you mean it more than you should. You settle back into the cushions, your dress slipping a little higher on your thighs, and he catches himself glancing before looking away again.

Max lets out a quiet huff, his eyes still fixed on his phone, but his attention is all on you now. “Didn’t know you’d be here,” he murmurs, his voice lower than usual, almost guarded.

You shift, crossing your legs under you, the air feeling warmer, closer. “A surprise, I guess,” you reply, a faint smile tugging at your lips, the kind that lingers, soft and effortless.

Max clenches his jaw, forcing himself to look back at his phone. Still, he’s hyper-aware of your presence, of the subtle scent of your perfume lingering in the room. He swallows hard, trying to steady himself, even as his chest tightens.

“Yeah,” he mutters, almost under his breath, like he’s afraid to say anything else, and you let the moment settle, content with the quiet between you.

Just then, his best friend Jamie stumbles in, holding a glass of chardonnay. “Maxie,” he coos, squishing Max’s cheeks together, making his lips pucker. Close behind comes your best friend, Mila—Jamie’s girlfriend.

A few others join the group, a mix of Jamie and Mila’s friends, and Max’s brow furrows as he realizes that they’re all couples. He internally groans, watching your eyes flit around like a lost puppy.

“Alright, everyone,” Mila announces with a clap of her hands, “time to head up. We’ve got a long day ahead tomorrow.”

One by one, the group starts dispersing, grabbing their things and heading upstairs. Max lingers, scrolling aimlessly through his phone, but he’s acutely aware of you standing up from the couch, smoothing down the hem of your dress.

You move with an easy grace, slipping past him with a soft, “Goodnight, Max.” There’s no sarcasm, no bite—just genuine kindness that he doesn’t understand. You flash him a small smile before heading toward the stairs.

Max’s jaw tightens as he watches you go. You’re far too calm, far too kind for his liking. It makes him uncomfortable, like you’re holding a mirror up to the way he behaves, forcing him to see the stark contrast between you.

He takes a deep breath, tucking his phone into his pocket, and follows behind the group. The villa is beautiful, the soft glow of the lights casting long shadows across the walls as everyone makes their way to their respective rooms. His room is at the far end of the hall, and as he reaches it, he notices you standing just outside the door next to his.

“Looks like we’re neighbors,” you say lightly, your voice warm and soft. You hold your toothbrush and a towel, your yellow sundress replaced by pale pink silky pajamas, and there’s something almost disarming about how comfortable you seem.

Max nods, his expression neutral. “Yeah.”

You don’t push the conversation, only smile again as you step into your room. “Sleep well, Max,” you say over your shoulder, as if you mean it.

He huffs quietly, more out of habit than frustration, and slips into his own room. The door closes with a soft click, and he leans back against it, rubbing a hand over his face.

For a moment, he stands there, in the silence of the room, staring at nothing in particular. He doesn’t know why your kindness unsettles him so much. It’s not like you’ve done anything wrong, but that’s exactly the problem. You’re too nice. Too understanding. And for some reason, it gets under his skin.

Max changes into a T-shirt and shorts, moving about the room on autopilot. He keeps hearing your voice, soft and sweet, lingering in his thoughts.

Finally, he pulls back the covers and slides into bed, trying to shut everything out. But it’s quiet now—too quiet. And even though you’re just on the other side of the wall, he can’t stop thinking about you.

In the middle of the night, he’s still awake, tossing and turning, when there’s a soft knock on his door. Max sits up, frowning slightly, wondering who it could be at this hour.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed and pads across the room, opening the door just a crack. It’s you, standing there, a little sheepish, your arms crossed lightly over your chest.

“Sorry,” you whisper, barely audible, “I didn’t mean to bother you. It’s just… my room's really hot. I think the AC is broken.”

Max blinks, unsure of what to say at first. Part of him wants to tell you to deal with it yourself, but another part of him can’t ignore it.

His eyes linger on you more than he’d admit—your hair sticking to your neck from sweat, your cheeks flushed, and you nibble your lip nervously. Your tank top has ridden up, a sliver of your hip exposed, and Max does everything in his power to push those thoughts away.

“Uh… you could just crack open a window,” he suggests, his voice a bit rough from sleep. He knows the words sound hollow even to him. He doesn’t want you in his space, yet part of him doesn’t want you sweating alone either.

You fidget slightly, your gaze dropping to the floor. “I tried, but it didn’t help. I just thought… maybe I could crash in here?” The words hang in the air, hopeful yet tentative.

Max’s heart races at the idea. The prospect of sharing the bed makes his palms sweat. It’s one thing to be in the same room, but sharing a bed? He hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek as he weighs his options.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asks, trying to sound casual, but there’s a hint of something deeper in his tone. The image of you curled up beside him—too close for comfort—sends a shiver down his spine.

“Yeah, no, you’re right,” you offer a nervous smile, clearly not wanting to invade his space, so you back away, ducking into your room. He watches you until the door is shut behind you.

Max stands in the doorway, his heart racing as he processes the moment. He’s not sure why he feels such a strong urge to call you back, to insist that it’s okay, but the words remain stuck in his throat. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling a mix of irritation and something else—something he’s not ready to name.

As he paces back to his bed, he tries to shake off the lingering image of you standing there, your flushed cheeks and nervous smile. He lies down again, staring at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything but the fact that you’re just a wall away.

A few moments pass before he hears a soft, muffled noise from your room—a sniffle, maybe? It makes his chest tighten at the thought of you crying because you're uncomfortable.

“Damn it,” he mutters to himself, tossing an arm over his eyes. He’s not going to sleep if he keeps thinking about you like this.

After what feels like an eternity of tossing and turning, he finally sits up, his decision made. He stands up, his heart pounding in his chest, and makes his way to your door. He raises his hand to knock but hesitates, uncertainty flooding in.

“Why the hell am I doing this?” he mutters, his self-doubt creeping back in. But the thought of you feeling uncomfortable alone is enough to push him through. He knocks softly, the sound barely more than a tap.

“Hey,” you call from inside, and he can hear the surprise in your voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” he replies, his voice worse than he intended. “I… just thought maybe you could come back. It’s probably not that hot here.”

There’s a brief silence, and he can imagine the look on your face—surprised and perhaps a little hopeful. “Really?” you ask, and he can’t help the slight smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

The door swings open, revealing you still in your silk-clad pajamas. He rips his gaze away, feeling a tightness in his throat. He doesn't utter a word, just turns around, walking to his room. He can hear your feet padding behind him, and you close the door behind the both of you.

Max keeps his back to you as you quietly follow him into the room, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The air feels heavier now, thick with unspoken tension as you stand there in the dim light, waiting for him to say something. But Max doesn’t. Instead, he heads straight for the bed, pulling back the covers on one side, his movements stiff and a little too deliberate.

“You can take the right side,” he mutters, not looking at you, as he slides under the covers on the left. His heart is pounding, though he tries to act like everything is fine.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure whether to thank him or just keep quiet. Deciding not to push it, you simply nod, even though he isn’t looking at you. You cross the room and slip into the bed beside him, careful not to make any sudden movements.

The mattress dips slightly under your weight, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he can feel the same tension thrumming between you that you do. The bed feels impossibly small now, the space between you a thin sliver of air that crackles with awkwardness.

You lie still, facing away from him, but you can feel his presence—so close and yet so distant. The sound of his steady breathing fills the room, and you wonder if he’s doing the same as you, staring at the ceiling, trying to will himself to sleep.

Minutes stretch on, and the silence between you is deafening. Every creak of the bed, every shift in the sheets seems louder in the stillness of the night. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice so soft it barely breaks the silence. You don’t expect a reply, and for a few moments, there’s nothing but the sound of your own breathing.

Then, finally, Max shifts slightly beside you. “Yeah, whatever,” he grumbles, his voice low and rough, but there’s something different in it now. Something that isn’t as cold as before.

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Maybe he isn’t as indifferent as he wants you to think. You curl up a little more, trying to make yourself comfortable, even as the tension lingers in the air between you.

As the night drags on, you begin to drift in and out of sleep. The heat from the earlier part of the night is gone now, replaced by a cooler breeze that drifts in through the open window. The sheets are soft, and for the first time since you entered Max’s room, you start to relax.

Just as you’re on the edge of sleep, you feel something shift again. Max turns slightly, the mattress dipping as he moves closer—just barely, but enough for you to notice. His arm brushes against yours, and the warmth of his skin sends a small jolt through you.

You stay perfectly still, wondering if he did it on purpose or if he’s just restless. Either way, you don’t move, afraid to disturb the delicate balance between you.

Your mind races—what if you roll over onto him in your sleep? What if you start snoring?—and the nerves bubble up, spilling out before you can stop yourself.

“So… I haven’t slept in a guy’s bed in ages,” you blurt out, staring at the ceiling. Max barely reacts, his only acknowledgment a low, noncommittal “Mhm,” but it doesn’t stop you from talking.

“Yeah, it’s been, like… a long time. I’m more of a 'sleep with a thousand pillows' kind of person, you know? Gotta have the right setup.” You laugh a little, mostly to yourself, feeling the need to fill the quiet. Max doesn’t respond, but you keep going, too nervous to stop. “Oh, and I’m really bad with directions, like, I get lost in grocery stores. Once, I ended up in the freezer aisle for thirty minutes just trying to find the cereal.”

“Mhm.”

His replies are half-hearted at best, but you don’t mind. If anything, the sound of his quiet indifference weirdly helps soothe your nerves.

“Oh! And I can’t swim,” you say with a laugh, thinking it’s just another random fact to throw out there. But this time, Max’s head snaps toward you.

“You came to the amalfi coast, and you can’t swim?” he asks, his voice sharper than before, with a hint of amusement. His eyes narrow slightly, and you can’t help but grin.

“Yeah,” you reply, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Figured I’d just, you know… stay on the shore.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s stupid.”

“Maybe,” you say, laughing softly, your nerves easing a bit. “But I’m good at other things. Like… did you know I can recite the entire script of Finding Nemo? Well, mostly.”

Max rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Great skill.”

You keep talking, the words flowing easier now. Your voice fills the room, soft and rhythmic, and even though Max doesn’t say much, you can feel the tension in the air start to shift. His body relaxes slightly, the space between you feeling a little less awkward.

“And another thing, I’m a terrible cook. Burnt spaghetti once. Didn’t even think that was possible. It’s water and noodles, right?” You laugh again, and this time Max lets out a quiet huff—almost like a chuckle, though he’d never admit it.

Your voice is like a steady hum, lulling the room into a gentle calm. You talk about everything and nothing, the words spilling out in a quiet stream. Max listens, his responses becoming softer, almost inaudible, but it doesn’t matter. His breathing slows, his eyes fluttering shut as your voice washes over him.

You don’t notice when he finally drifts off, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. But somehow, you feel it—the way the energy in the room has shifted, his earlier sharpness melted away into something softer, more relaxed.

The next morning, sunlight spills through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. You stir first, the warmth of the bed enveloping you, your body reluctant to wake. For a moment, you forget where you are, and then it hits you—Max’s bed, Max’s room. You blink your eyes open slowly, turning your head slightly to see him still there, asleep.

He’s lying on his back now, the sheets tangled around his waist, his chest rising and falling with each slow breath. His face is serene, the harsh lines you’ve come to associate with him softened by sleep. His hair is slightly tousled, giving him an almost boyish look, something so different from the hard-edged man who usually glares at you.

You feel a strange flutter in your chest as you look at him, this version of Max—unguarded, vulnerable. It’s a side of him you never thought you’d see, and it’s almost too intimate, too close. You shift a little, trying not to make any noise, but the bed creaks softly under your weight.

Max stirs, his brows furrowing slightly as he slowly wakes up. His eyes open halfway, still hazy with sleep, and for a brief moment, he looks at you without the usual edge in his gaze. It’s like he’s forgotten for a second who you are, where he is.

Then, reality seems to settle back in, and his eyes narrow ever so slightly, though there’s no real malice there. Just a kind of gruff annoyance.

“Mornin’,” he mutters, his voice rough and low, thick with sleep.

“Good morning,” you reply softly, offering a tentative smile.

He shifts, pushing himself up on his elbows, the sheet falling further down his waist, revealing more of his toned torso. You can’t help but glance, quickly averting your eyes when you realize you’re staring.

Max runs a hand through his messy hair, yawning as he glances at you. “You talk a lot in your sleep too, or is that just when you’re awake?” he asks, a hint of that familiar sarcasm creeping back into his tone, though there’s no real bite behind it.

You chuckle lightly, relaxing a little. “Only when I’m awake, I promise.”

He grunts, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. For a moment, neither of you says anything, the silence between you less awkward than you would’ve expected. It’s almost… comfortable.

Max stretches, his muscles flexing slightly as he does, and you try not to let your eyes linger too long. You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, and you’re grateful when he doesn’t seem to notice.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence, “how’d you sleep?”

He glances back at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he shrugs. “Fine, I guess.” There’s a pause, and then he adds, almost begrudgingly, “Didn’t mind all the talking.”

Your heart skips a beat at that, the small admission catching you off guard. You smile, warmth spreading through you. “Glad to know I didn’t annoy you too much.”

Max doesn’t respond, just grabs his phone from the nightstand and checks the time. But you catch the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips before he turns away.

He stands, pulling on a shirt and running a hand through his hair again before heading toward the door. “We’re leaving for breakfast soon,” he mutters. “Don’t take too long.”

He steps out before poking his head back in his face serious, “Don’t tell anyone about this,” he says gesturing a finger around towards you and him, right asshole Max is alive and well.

“Right.” you deflate, but none the less walk to your room. You notice the AC now works. 

The warmth of the Italian sun is already starting to filter in through your window as you slip into your pale yellow babydoll dress. The soft fabric feels light against your skin, perfect for the warm weather and the laid-back vibes of the villa.

When you finally make your way downstairs, the smell of fresh coffee and pastries fills the air, and you can hear the familiar hum of laughter and chatter. The villa’s terrace is bathed in sunlight, with everyone seated around the large outdoor table, enjoying breakfast. 

Max is already seated, of course, his usual stoic expression in place. He’s leaning back in his chair, sunglasses on, making it impossible to tell if he’s even noticed you. 

An array of colorful fruits and pastries litters the table, couples chatting and laughing as you offer everyone a warm smile while taking a seat next to Mila, who returns the gesture. “How was the room, darling?” she asks, taking a sip of her tea. You can feel a pair of laser beams on your face, as if Max is staring into your soul.

“Oh, it was truly nice,” you reply, feeling the tips of your ears heat up with nerves. Mila seems to buy it and turns to address the entire group.

“So, guys, today we’re going to take the yacht around,” she announces, eliciting a few excited hoots from your friends. Your stomach tightens at the thought of being stuck on a yacht, but you brush the anxiety aside.

As the chatter around the breakfast table grows, the knot in your stomach tightens at the mention of the yacht. You toy with the edge of your napkin, trying to suppress the wave of nerves that accompanies the idea of being out on the water, especially since you can’t swim.

Max, still leaning back in his chair, tilts his head slightly in your direction, as if he senses the unease radiating off you. His sunglasses shield his eyes, but you swear you can feel his gaze tracing over you. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, and you can almost hear his voice echoing in your mind: “You came to the Amalfi Coast, and you can’t swim?”

You swallow hard, forcing a smile as you join in on the group's excitement, even though the thought of being surrounded by water sends a shiver down your spine. Mila stands, gathering everyone’s attention, and starts guiding the group toward the dock.

The villa’s outdoor space spills into a sprawling garden, leading to a private path that takes you to where the yacht is docked. The sunlight glints off the water, almost blinding in its brightness, as you walk with the others toward the sleek, luxurious yacht. Everyone seems thrilled—laughing and talking about the views they’ll see—while you stay quieter than usual, taking deep breaths to calm your nerves.

You tug at the sleeves of your oversized polo, the fabric bunching slightly in your grip as you focus on steadying your breath. The path to the dock feels longer than it actually is, the sounds of the group’s lively chatter fading into the background. You glance at the shimmering blue water ahead and bite the inside of your cheek.

Max lingers just a few steps behind, and you can feel the weight of his presence even without looking. His footsteps are slow and deliberate, as if he’s watching you closely, waiting for any sign of weakness. You try not to dwell on it, though the image of him smirking at your fear lingers in the back of your mind.

As the group finally boards the yacht, you become hyper-aware of the water surrounding you. The boat rocks gently as everyone gets settled, and you grip the railing tightly, trying to hide your discomfort. Max watches you for a moment before walking past you, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours.

“Relax,” he mutters under his breath, not even looking at you, but there’s something almost reassuring in his tone. You exhale slowly, forcing yourself to take a seat with the others, letting the warmth of the sun and the sound of conversation distract you from the vast ocean around you.

As the yacht pulls away from the dock, you try to focus on the scenery. The Amalfi Coast is breathtaking—cliffs draped in greenery, colorful villas dotting the shoreline, and the ocean sparkling beneath the golden sunlight. Everyone around you laughs and soaks up the beauty of the day, but your hands remain clenched in your lap, your mind preoccupied with the endless expanse of water.

Despite your nervousness, you find yourself stealing glances at Max. He’s sitting at the back of the yacht, one arm draped casually over the side, sunglasses shielding his eyes as he stares out at the water. He looks so at ease, completely unaffected by the swaying of the boat or the openness of the sea.

The breeze picks up, ruffling your hair, and as you turn your attention back to the group, you feel the yacht slow down. Mila claps her hands, announcing that they’ve anchored near a beautiful cove, perfect for swimming.

Your stomach drops.

Everyone begins shedding layers, excitement buzzing through the group as they prepare to jump into the water. You stay seated, gripping the edge of your chair as they leap overboard, laughter echoing around you.

Max stands, pulling off his shirt and revealing the defined muscles of his back and shoulders. Your eyes linger for a moment longer than you intend. He catches your gaze just before he moves toward the edge of the yacht, that same smirk playing on his lips.

“You coming in?” he asks, his voice low, almost challenging.

You shake your head quickly, offering a small laugh. “No, I think I’ll just… stay here and enjoy the sun.”

Max arches an eyebrow, clearly not buying your excuse, but he doesn’t push it. He gives you one last look, his smirk still in place, before diving effortlessly into the water.

You watch as your friends giggle and enjoy themselves. Mila waves up at you, and you give her a fake salute. She giggles and goes back to swimming. A few minutes later, several members of the group come up to take a break, Max among them. You hate to admit it, but you watch the water droplets roll off him, his cheeks flushed from the sun, and a tight feeling blooms in your core as you force yourself to look away.

The group is lively, and at one point, Jamie, always the instigator, starts playfully shoving friends toward the edge of the boat, teasing and laughing. You stand at the back, watching, hoping to stay out of the chaos.

But in a moment of playful exuberance, Jamie swings his arm and accidentally nudges you forward. Time seems to slow as you lose your balance, and before you can even process what’s happening, you tumble over the side of the yacht. The water crashes around you, and as you hit the surface, the cold rush envelops you, sending panic gripping your chest. Instinctively, you kick your legs, but the water pulls you under, and you flail in confusion. The world above disappears, and the muffled sounds of laughter and splashing fade into silence.

Just as you start to lose hope, a strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back to the surface. You gasp for air, blinking the water from your eyes, and find yourself face-to-face with Max. His expression is intense, irritation etched on his features.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snaps, though his grip is steady and reassuring as he keeps you afloat.

You can’t help but laugh nervously, trying to shake off the fear. “I didn’t want to go in!” you manage to sputter, still clinging to him for dear life.

Max rolls his eyes, the frown returning, though it’s softer this time. “You need to stop thrashing around,” he says, his voice lower now.

As he helps you back onto the yacht, the warmth of the sun hits your damp skin once more. Laughter and cheers erupt from the group as they realize you’re okay, but Max’s presence is the only thing that matters to you in this moment. He doesn’t say anything; his expression remains unreadable as he sets you down.

You catch your breath, water dripping from your hair and running down your arms. “Thanks, Max,” you say, trying to brush off the embarrassment. His usual smirk is absent, and for a split second, you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he cares.

But as soon as you’re on the boat, he steps back, leaving you with the others. “Try not to drown next time,” he says, his tone flat as he pulls his shirt back on, the fabric clinging to his damp skin. It feels more like a reflex than a genuine jab, but you let it slide, laughing it off. “I’ll try my best.”

He turns away, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. You shake your head, trying to focus on the laughter around you as Jamie and Mila check to make sure you’re okay. “Really, I’m fine,” you assure them, even as your heart races from the close call.

Just like that, everyone goes back to normal. Lunch is served, and as the yacht heads back to the dock under the fading light, you’re the first one off, eager to touch solid ground once more. You don’t bid anyone goodnight; you’re all too tired for that. You head upstairs to your room, closing the door behind you and shrugging off your damp polo and swimsuit. You hop in the shower, rinsing the salt water off your skin.

After your shower, the soft sound of knocking pulls you from your thoughts. You wrap yourself in a towel and open the door to find Mila standing there, concern etched across her features.

“Hey, just wanted to check on you,” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Her eyes scan your face, searching for any signs of distress. “That fall looked pretty rough.”

You chuckle softly, waving it off. “I’m fine, really. Just a little embarrassed.”

Mila raises an eyebrow, a sly smile creeping onto her face. “You sure it’s not because of Max? I saw the way he pulled you out of the water. It looked pretty… intimate.”

The mention of Max sends a warmth flooding through you, one that you quickly dismiss. “Oh, please. He was just being a jerk, as usual.”

She smirks, crossing her arms. “Or maybe he just likes the attention.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, but a small part of you can’t help but wonder if there’s more to it. “He’s just… Max. You know how he is.”

Mila studies you for a moment, trying to read between the lines. “Well, just think about it. He’s not always the way he acts, you know?”

With that, she leaves, and you find yourself lost in thought, her words echoing in your mind. What if Max really did care?

Later that night, curiosity gets the better of you. You stand in front of Max’s door, your heart racing as you knock softly.

“Come in,” he calls, and you push the door open cautiously. He’s lounging on his bed, scrolling through his phone, and for a moment, you’re struck by how at home he looks.

“Hey,” you say, your voice soft. “I just wanted to thank you… for earlier.”

Max looks up, a flicker of something in his gaze before he masks it with indifference. “You mean for saving your ass?” he quips, his smirk returning. “Don’t mention it.”

You roll your eyes, stepping further into the room. “You know, for someone who supposedly doesn’t care, you sure have a funny way of showing it.”

His expression shifts, annoyance flickering across his features. “What do you want me to do? Throw you a parade for not drowning?”

“Maybe just a little acknowledgment would be nice,” you counter, crossing your arms defensively.

He stands, taking a step closer, and the air between you crackles with tension. “I don’t like how sweet you are,” he says, his tone sharp. “It’s annoying.”

“Annoying?” you challenge, feeling a rush of defiance. “Is that really all you’ve got? Because it sounds like you’re just scared of someone actually caring.”

Max’s eyes darken, and for a moment, you think he might snap back. But instead, he steps even closer, invading your personal space. “You think you’re so great, don’t you? All sunshine and rainbows, but it doesn’t work with me.”

Before you can respond, he closes the distance, and suddenly, his lips are on yours—fervent and demanding. His warmth envelops you, slightly chapped against your own, igniting a spark that sends a thrill coursing through your entire body. You’re caught off guard at first, but your instincts take over, and you melt into the kiss, feeling his hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer.

As the kiss deepens, you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. He presses you against the door, his body firm and solid against yours, radiating heat that makes your pulse quicken. The kiss is intoxicating; every second stretches into eternity—his lips moving against yours in a dance that feels both wild and tender.

When you finally pull away, breathless, your heart races as you search his eyes. “Wait… Max—”

He leans in again, his breath mingling with yours, heavy with longing. “You taste sweet,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, a smirk tugging at his lips.

A rush of warmth floods your cheeks at his words. “Is that all you have to say?” you tease, a smile breaking through your fluster.

Max steps back slightly, his hands still resting on your hips as he watches you intently. “What do you want me to say? That I’m an asshole who can’t help but want you?”

The air between you buzzes with unspoken tension—a mix of frustration and attraction. You feel exhilarated yet confused, unable to ignore the thrill of being this close to him, the chemistry crackling like electricity.

“Maybe you could start by admitting you actually care,” you challenge softly, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Maybe,” he replies, a hint of seriousness in his tone before leaning in again, capturing your lips with his. This time, it’s even more intense; his hands grip your waist as he deepens the kiss, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he can’t get enough of you.

But as the moment stretches on, you pull back slightly, breathless. “Max—”

He leans in again, and you find yourself needing to physically stop him, your hands resting on his chest. “Wait, we can’t just—”

“Why not?” he presses, his voice low and needy, his eyes dark with desire. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

You’re both panting, caught in an electric moment. “You’re infuriating, you know that?” you say, a smile creeping onto your lips despite the chaos swirling around you.

Max smirks, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah, but you like it.” He crashes his lips against yours once more, and as he pulls away, he runs his tongue along his lower lip, a boyish smirk breaking through. “Sweet like honey,” he teases, prompting you to laugh and tilt your head back. Without thinking, you pull him down by his shirt collar, kissing him again, lost in the moment.

[kxsagi]

hear me out bllk characters with an “innocent” s/o who doesn’t understand pickup lines/takes them too literally 😭 with my freaky kings shidou, kaiser, aiku, karasu and otoya, pretty please

“𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐳? 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?”

a/n: omg nah this is peak 🙏

(ac: miiuu1103 on tik tok)

ft. shidou ryusei, kaiser michael, aiku oliver, karasu tabito, otoya eita

shidou ryusei

shidou, being the menace he is, cannot resist dropping the dirtiest, most unhinged pickup lines on you. 

he corners you one day, eyes gleaming, and purrs, “you wanna ride me like a skateboard, baby?” 

you blink up at him with those wide, innocent eyes and a soft gasp. 

“but ryu... i don't know how to skateboard.” 

and you sound so genuinely distressed about it too, like you just failed a pop quiz. 

he stares at you for a second. just stares. like a man witnessing the purest creature alive. 

his brain actually short-circuits. 

“nah, nah, princess, you don’t gotta know how to ride. i’ll teach ya, easy.” 

you perk up immediately. “really?! i've always wanted to learn!” 

shidou goes through it. 

next thing you know this man is out here dragging a skateboard out of the garage, fully committed to giving you lessons like he didn’t mean it in the filthiest way possible. 

he falls in love every time you wibble-wobble on the board and giggle when he catches you. 

thinks you're the best thing since violence and energy drinks. 

kaiser michael

kaiser is OBSESSED with you. 

he thinks your innocence is a gift from the gods, handcrafted to make his life more entertaining. 

one afternoon, he leans back lazily against the wall outside, smirking, and says, “are you a magician? because whenever i look at you, everyone else disappears.” 

your eyes go HUGE. like a cartoon character. you start whipping your head around, frantically looking around the room. 

“wait, where is everyone? what did you do?!” 

you’re actually worried. you start listing people: “wasn’t ness just here? and that man selling pretzels?” 

kaiser nearly slides down the wall laughing. 

he’s gripping his stomach like he's about to ascend. 

when he finally manages to breathe, he cups your cheeks and plants a kiss right on your forehead. 

“relax, schatz. it’s just me being stupidly in love with you.” 

you still make him check if ness is okay, though. (he texts ness “u alive?” ness replies “unfortunately.”) 

aiku oliver

oliver has no shame. 

if he sees you in cute shorts or a dress, he will immediately pull out the worst pickup lines he knows. 

lounging on the couch one day, he winks at you and says, “your body’s 70% water... and i’m thirsty.” 

you stare at him, so genuinely confused, like, “you can just drink from the kitchen? i refilled the brita.” 

realizing how sassy that might have sounded, you legitimately run to get him a bottle of water and come back looking so proud of yourself. 

“here, stay hydrated.” 

oliver’s just sitting there with a hand over his face, sobbing internally from how precious you are. 

he accepts the water, kisses your hand dramatically, and mutters, “god gave you to me because he knew i couldn’t handle anyone else.” 

karasu tabito

karasu thinks he’s the king of smooth. 

he leans over your shoulder while you're cooking, breath warm against your ear, and says, “are you from tennessee? ‘cause you’re the only ten i see.” 

you immediately turn around and frown very seriously. 

“tabi... i’ve never even been to tennessee.” 

you sound so sad about it too, like you’re worried you disappointed him somehow. 

karasu has to physically restrain himself from collapsing into giggles. 

he straightens up, clearing his throat dramatically. 

“nah, babe, it’s just a cheesy way of saying you’re insanely hot.” 

you light up like a christmas tree. “oh! thank you!!” 

and then you very earnestly offer, “i can go to tennessee if you want!” 

karasu almost proposes on the spot. 

from that day on he makes it his mission to hit you with a ridiculous pickup line at least once a day just to see your confused little face. 

otoya eita

otoya thinks he’s the smoothest operator in the universe. 

he slides up to you while you're minding your business and purrs, “do you have a map? ‘cause i just got lost in your eyes.” 

immediately, you gasp and start rummaging through your bag like your life depends on it. 

“i don’t have a paper map on me, but i have the maps app in my phone! wait, wait, don’t panic, i’ll find it!” 

otoya watches you absolutely spiral over helping him and he has to cover his mouth to hide the fact that he’s losing his mind. 

when you look up at him, wide-eyed and breathless, holding your phone out like a lifeline, he just melts. 

“no need, princess,” he croons, tucking your hair behind your ear. “i’m exactly where i wanna be.” 

you: "yay! so you’re not lost anymore?" 

otoya internally: somebody please call an ambulance, i’m in love. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Daft Punk - Around the World 1997

"Around the World" is a song by French electronic music duo Daft Punk. It was released in April 1997 as the second single from their debut studio album, Homework. The song became a major club hit globally and reached number one on the dance charts in Canada, Spain, the UK, and the US. It also peaked at number one in Iceland and Italy. The song's lyrics solely consist of the words "around the world", repeated on loop for a total of 144 times (80 on the radio edit). In October 2011, NME placed it at number 21 on its list "150 Best Tracks of the Past 15 Years". "Around the World" was featured in one episode of first season of MTV animated series Daria. It was also used in the video games Dance Central 3, NBA 2K13 and the trailers for Ubisoft E3 2007 Rayman Raving Rabbids 2.

Michel Gondry's music video for the song features five groups of characters on a platform representing a vinyl record: four robots walking around in a circle; four tall athletes wearing tracksuits with small prosthetic heads walking up and down stairs; four women dressed like synchronized swimmers moving up and down another set of stairs; four skeletons dancing in the center of the platform; and four mummies dancing in time with the song's drum pattern. This is meant to be a visual representation of the song; each group of characters represents a different instrument. According to Gondry's notes, the robots represent the singing voice; the physicality and small-minded rapidity of the athletes symbolizes the ascending/descending bass guitar; the femininity of the disco girls represents the high-pitched keyboard; the skeletons dance to the guitar line; and the mummies represent the drum machine.

"Around the World" was Gondry's first attempt at bringing organized dancing to his music videos. "I was sick to see choreography being mistreated in videos like filler with fast cutting and fast editing, really shallow. I don't think choreography should be shot in close-ups." The sequence, initially developed by Gondry, was further expanded and streamlined by choreographer Blanca Li.

The music video won Best Dance Video at the International Dance Music Awards, and was nominated for Best Video at the MTV Europe Music Video Awards, and nominated for International Viewer's Choice - MTV Europe at the MTV Video Music Awards. The song was nominated for Best Dance Recording at the Grammy Awards.

"Around the World" received a total of 81,7% yes votes!

[mariasont]

aaron hotchner masterlist

smut = ✧ clean (ish) = ♡ angst = ✩

newest to oldest

character archetype one-shot masterlists

perv!hotch sweetheart!reader nanny!reader bimbo!assistant!reader intern!reader

blurbs: here

one shots:

✩ dead from the waist down you learned to seduce your way into being loved. hotch wants to teach you that you don't have to earn love at all.

✧ second helpings it started with second helpings and ended with him pinning you against a dressing room wall in navy slacks

✩ sum of their expectations hotch had thought meeting your family was just another formality, an inevitable step in your relationship. but after an evening with them he realizes two things — they will never deserve you, and you will never have to face them alone again.

♡ two heartbeats later you weren’t planning for another baby, but life doesn’t wait for timing to be perfect and hotch shows you that sometimes the best things are the ones you don’t see coming

✩ murphy's law you have spent your whole life thinking love was something that could be lost. aaron has spent his whole life proving that things worth fighting for don't go anywhere

♡ a puddle in running shoes your boyfriend finds out you have a praise kink and is having way too much fun with that information

✧ the hypothesis spencer and aaron want your help settling a debate of arousal

♡ secret nicknames hotch accidentally calls you your middle name at work causing suspicion in the team

♡ schoolboy-esque spencer and hotch spend the day competing for your attention

✩♡ too emotional you and hotch are taken hostage, hotch makes some comments, but is it part of the plan or did he mean that?

♡ late night podcast hotch finds you fast asleep to the soothing sound of a seriel killer podcast

♡ stupid crush being the youngest member of the bau you think you have no shot with your hot boss

✩ please, don't prove 'em right aaron hotchner is a busy man and he tends to disappoint you by missing important events pt 1, pt 2

♡ they think i'm pregnant the team thinks you're pregnant and you decide to have a little fun with it

♡ give this old man a heart attack you almost get yourself killed on a case and hotch has some choice words about it

✧ ideas from a book in which hotch catches you reading smut and finds out you have a gun kink

♡ some profiler you are in which hotch insists you stay with him after you get shot

✧ spoiled in which hotch overhears your conversation with penelope and decides to do something about it

✩♡ talking to a brick wall you overheard aaron’s not so nice words about you

✩ the manuscript you find a series of letters aaron wrote you in college

♡ office sleepover you get put on a hit list and have to stay over at the office pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

♡ bumper to bumper you can't seem to park your car and hotch is the man to help

✧ negotiation with mr. h pt 1 pt 2 hotch doesn't know what to do when his nanny flirts with him out of the blue

♡ marked territory you are not happy about a consultant trying to make a move on your man

[syddsatyrn]

⛧Devotion is Love with Wings⛧ Chapter Two: Emotions Unveiled

Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 / Ch4

⛧Pairing: - Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

⛧Warnings: Alcohol, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, king x servant, panic attack, heartbreak, happy ending.

⛧Words: 2.5K

⛧Summary: Feelings surface and the line between duty and desire begins to blur. Admitting your feelings to the King of Hell could be the best or worst thing that's ever happened to you. Lucifer battles with his own internal struggles in silence.

⛧Notes: Ask and you shall receive, my dears! You all asked me for a part two so here we go! Keep an eye out for my next fic because its time for some Alastor content! My beta reader is @hellfiremunsonn and she deserve all the rainbows and cupcakes.

⛧Tag list: @loslox @tiedyedghoulette @naiadic

------------------

As the soft rays of the morning sun seeped through the velvet curtains, you slowly opened your eyes, blinking a few times, adjusting to the gentle light. Despite the room still cloaked in soothing darkness, you knew you were in Lucifer's room. It takes you a moment to recall last night's events. You feel his breath on the back of your neck and his arm around your midsection. You can feel your face get hotter with every detail you take in. He is comfortably curled up behind you sound asleep. He needs rest, you’re afraid to move a muscle and wake him. You look over at the clock on the wall, you both are extremely late for breakfast.

“...Shit.” You say under your breath. Lucifer begins to move slightly, he lets out a soft hum and holds you just a bit closer. You can’t tell if he’s awake or not, even though you truly did not want to get out of bed, it had to be done. You slowly sit up and turn around, you almost place your hand on his shoulder but you take a moment to admire his sweet sleeping face. Instead, you gently place your hand on his cheek. Lucifer’s eyes flutter open, he meets your gaze and gives you a sleepy smile.

“Good morning…” He says softly while holding your wrist, keeping your hand on his cheek. You wanted to pull away, but his eyes made you want to just crawl back into his arms and go back to sleep.

“G-Good Morning, sir.” You stutter a little, Lucifer’s smile turns into a small smirk, he is amused by how flustered you are. He finally lets go and you try to compose yourself, but it's hard to do so when he looks so cute.

“I’ll go get some coffee, it looks like we slept in.” You finally break the spell he had on you and crawl out of his bed. When you leave, Lucifer immediately misses your presence close to him, having you next to him made a significant difference in his mood and sleep. It was the first time he’d felt the warmth of another person in a long time, and now that he’s had a taste, he wants more.

You head down the hall to your room, when you enter you quickly shut the door, thankful no one saw you. You get dressed in your uniform and head downstairs to the kitchen. While you made coffee, the staff were surprised to see you so late into the morning. You make up a quick excuse, stating you were not feeling well but you’re doing much better now so it's nothing to worry about.

You take two cups of coffee upstairs on a silver tray, and you do your best to mentally shift into work mode, but you can't stop thinking about last night. You return to his room, the king is still in bed, sporting a satisfied look on his face. You hand him his coffee and place the tray on the bedside table. 

“Thank you, my dear.” He says and gestures for you to sit on the bed, so you take your cup from the tray and have a seat.

“I want to apologize.” You start, and he looks at you with a raised brow. “I shouldn't have fallen asleep in your quarters. That was inappropriate of me.”

“I’m gonna stop you there, you do exactly what is asked of you. Everything you do is for my benefit. I could never be upset with you for something like that.” He says with a gentle voice. His gold eyes soften as he realizes you’re being serious.

“Thank you…” You reply, just barely above a whisper. His words made you feel a little better, you only want to do what's best for your king…but sometimes you can get carried away. You would do anything for him, that includes bending the rules.

“Now stop sulking.” He says and crawls over to you, sitting beside you on the bed. He is seated rather close, you look away trying to hide your red face. He turns your face back towards him using his index finger and thumb. “You’re too pretty to be so sad.”

“Y-You forget yourself, sir.” You stutter, barely keeping it together. You finish your coffee and return the cup to the tray. When you stand up and walk towards the wardrobe, Lucifer chuckles at your attempt to remain dignified. He is knocking down walls with the way he speaks to you. Breaking down each professional boundary one at a time. His touch was setting you on fire and you were running out of ways to extinguish it.

You sort through his clothes and pull out a black suit with red and white embellishments. You set it on the corner of the bed like you always do. “I’ll make sure I have your lunch ready for you in your study, sir” You say quickly, with a red blush spread across your face, you take the tray and quickly excuse yourself.

You rush down the hall and back to your room. Your chest heaves and you're out of breath. What in the devil's name happened there?! He looked like he was going to kiss you, his face was so close and he called you pretty! What is this idiot doing? You cover your face with your sleeves and pace back and forth in your room.

You always prided yourself on your composure. You navigate life’s twists and turns with a steady hand and a level head. At first, you brushed off these fluttering feelings as a mere passing fancy. You find yourself in front of a mental crossroads, on one hand, there is the exhilarating rush of new emotions. On the other was fear of rejection, an unconventional relationship, and possible heartbreak. If you ruin what you have with Lucifer, you will end up with nothing. All your years climbing the hierarchy would be null and void.

But what if it was possible? No, it couldn't be, there was just no way. As far as you are aware, you’ve never heard of such a situation that ended well. This can’t possibly be happening, you need some time to sort yourself out. But at some point, you are going to see him again today and you’re not sure how you’ll handle it. You always buried your feelings deep within your heart, locking them away like a precious treasure hidden from prying eyes. You’d like to think you're capable of continuing this facade, but this time you are not so sure.

-----------------

Lucifer sighs as you leave the room, your reactions are rather fascinating though. He gets up and takes his clothes to the bathroom to dress himself. Lucifer is well aware of the power dynamic here, and he has a habit of pushing things as far as he can. It comes with the territory of normally having anything he wants. He buttons his vest and looks at himself in the mirror. So what if he had a thing for his advisor? He wonders if he’s just lonely and that’s why he’s acting this way…even if that was true, it wouldn’t explain the relief he feels every time you enter a room. He puts on his coat, straightens his hat, and leaves his room to spend time in his study. 

He opens the door and notices his lunch is sitting on his desk along with some invoices to sign and an overview of yesterday's meeting. This is unusual, you normally bring him his meal and check in on his daily progress at this time. This is cause for concern, indeed. Was Y/N avoiding him? Surely that can't be true, they would never just ignore him like that. He slumps into his chair, wondering if he messed up somehow. 

Did he ruin the years of trust they had built? He still wants her around, he would hate the idea of anyone else taking your place. The more he thought about it the more the pit in his stomach grew. He attempts to eat but can’t put down much food, his nerves are making it difficult to eat. He needs to find you and apologize, he has to make this right somehow. 

-----------------

Hours go by and you’ve done your best to avoid Lucifer at all costs, but you can't keep this up forever. You are standing on a large balcony in the dining room wearing your pajamas. The sun has set and the stars are visible in the sky, there is a chill in the air. You let out a defeated sigh, you’re going to have to tell him or forget about your feelings completely. You fear that if you confessed your love, the delicate threads that bind you both together would fray and snap. If you forget and try to move on, how bad is it going to hurt when he finds a new love? It would ache so bad you might have to leave his manor entirely, you knew that if that were to happen, it would shatter Lucifer's heart.

You feel a few drops of rain fall on your skin, and as each minute passes the rain becomes heavier and heavier. You look out into the courtyard, it’s getting late and you should be heading inside but you stand there, tears in your eyes. How could you be so foolish and self-centered? You knew the rules and you chose to defy them, it's your own fault you feel so awful.

Suddenly the rain is no longer hitting you, you don't feel the cold drops on your face anymore. You turn around and Lucifer is standing in the doorway, his large wing covers you, shielding you from the rain.

“Hey…Can we talk?” He says with a soft look of concern on his face. You nod while wiping your face with your sleeves, he motions for you to come back inside. He walks slightly ahead of you, leading you upstairs to his bedroom. He opens the door for you and gives you a small half-smile. Lucifer walks over to his desk and pours you both a glass of bourbon. He hands you a glass and you take a seat at the small table next to the window. He sits across from you, you can tell he's a bit anxious because he keeps looking away. You take a sip from your drink, hoping the alcohol will settle your nerves. 

The ambiance of the dimly lit room, the soft glow of candlelight danced upon his face. With a hesitant breath, Lucifer cleared his throat. 

“I need to apologize to you,” Lucifer says with a despairing look on his face. “I’m sure you’ve felt confused and in distress all day.” He takes a sip of his drink while trying to find the right words. “Before I begin, let me just say that I think so highly of you. Y/N, you’ve been there for me during every awful situation I’ve faced and I am so grateful for you.”

He grabs your hand and his expression changes to a more serious one. “I don't want you to leave my side. I couldn’t bear it if I did something to make you leave.”

“Sir, I–” You try to speak but Lucifer interrupts you.

“Y/N. I need you to drop the formalities for ten minutes, please.” He cuts you off and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Is there something going on between us or am I just a lonely, divorced, delusional, man making it all up in my head so I don't feel so shitty about my life?”

You are shocked by his words, you had no idea he felt that way about himself. 

“You’re not delusional, Lucifer.” You answer, it takes you a moment to gather your thoughts and put them in order. “It's all my fault, really. I guess after all this time I’ve developed some feelings.”

Lucifer’s eyes widen, his face softens and he squeezes your hand and you look back into his eyes with a small smile. “I think I just got carried away, I know nothing can happen between us. It would be unacceptable and irredeemable. I’m the delusional one, to think you could ever love someone like me.” You reply while looking down at your drink, your finger toying with the rim of the glass.

Without a word, without warning, Lucifer leaned over the table and grabbed ahold of your shirt. He pulls you close so that you are face to face, leaning over the table. You could feel his breath on your lips as he said, “Love doesn't adhere to rules or expectations, darling. I will choose to defy every convention, every decree if it means I get to spend the rest of my life devoted to someone I love.”

Tears started to well up in your eyes, he slowly closed the gap between you both. His lips softly pressed against yours. Time stopped in that moment, amidst the chaos of entangled emotions. The taste was bittersweet, you’ve only ever dreamed of this. His hand lets go of your shirt and caresses your face. You kiss him back with fervor, a silent confession that speaks volumes. Both of you daring to defy the boundaries of monarchy and courtier.

You lace your fingers with his, he stands up and pulls you out of your seat. You practically fell into his arms, Lucifer held the back of your head, the other arm wrapped around your waist.

Your tears flowed freely as you hid your face in his chest. He holds you tight, offering you silent comfort as you let out quiet sobs. Lucifer strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize…” He says, barely above a whisper. “Just let me take care of you for once, my love.” Before you can protest, Lucifer scoops you up and gently places you on his bed. He climbs in and pulls the covers over you both. He wipes your tear-stained cheeks with his sleeve and smiles at you while you take the time you need to calm down. 

“C’mon, babe say something…You’re killing me.” He says, waiting for you to speak with bated breath.

“I love you…” You say between staggered breaths. Your eyes are locked on his, somehow Lucifer blows through the many walls you’ve put up to prevent this and you are left bare and vulnerable. It is terrifying, being this helplessly in love. Bearing the fragments of your heart to the person who held it entirely.

“I love you too, dummy.” His smile is sweet like saccharine, his voice is smooth like silk. Your lips met his once more while your fingers card through his hair. He kept you as close as possible, and in the hush of the night amidst the whispered confessions, you and your king curled up together and fell asleep once again in each other's arms. No sovereign, demon or angel could pull you two apart even if they tried. 

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

What Did I Say?

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: A trip to the market takes a turn for the worst when you run into a bounty hunter that doesn't take no for an answer. Takes place after Season 3 when Din and Grogu have been living in their cabin on Nevarro. This is the fourth fic in my Sugar, Spice, and Starlight Series!

Tropes: Touch Her And Die, Protective!Din, Bakery AU, Grumpy vs. Sunshine, Mutual Pining, Shy!Din

Word Count: 9K (HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?! 😱)

Warnings: I'm gonna label this one 18+ just because this contains an UNWELCOME ADVANCE from someone on the reader (not Din) (it's creepy, And the reader does get hurt- just a little bit), Angst, Blood, Death, Super Creepy Transdoshan, Din Protecting the Reader and Being Super Hot While Doing it, Loverboy!Din But The Reader Doesn't Know It, One or two curse words?, Din taking care of the reader, The reader is really soft and likes to bake? Din being a little bit self-deprecating to himself? Din might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n! I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! I'm just starting to write for Din, so please be gentle.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: Again, this does contain an unwelcome (somewhat sexual? I really don't know what to call it) advance from a creepy lizard man, please, PLEASE, do not read this if that's something that will hurt you. I really don't want anyone to be effected negatively by this. After that whole situation it does get really cute...

The sounds and smells of the market were all around you, flooding your senses as you wove through the multicolored stalls on the bright afternoon. The sun above warmed your shoulders through the soft red dress you wore that swished around your ankles with each step through the crowds.

The smell of spices, fruit, fresh baked pastry, and perfumes wafted up from the booths around you while the chittering of creatures in cages, the low hum of electricity, and the sound of vendors calling out to the other shoppers filled your ears. Families walked through the streets enjoying the fare and children giggled while they darted through the crowds playing tag while lone shoppers migrated from booth to booth, drawn in by smooth talking vendors with beconing hands.

It was one of those wonderful Saturdays. You had woken up early, made enough pastries for the morning rush, and left your assistant Jax in charge while you went grocery shopping. There was a list clutched in your hand written in your untidy scrawl, but you were only partly paying attention to it.

Shopping in the market was one of your favorite things to do.

Everyday there was a new vendor or a new product being sold, and you often didn't know where to look for fear of missing out on something strange and unusual. It always awakened a sense of excitement and joy, and of course it always made you feel more connected to the community on Nevarro.

You lean over the display of baskets filled with brightly colored and various sized fruits and vegetables that spill out in a colorful blur onto the small table.

“How about these?” The vendor asks with a wide smile, a hint of an accent on the end of his words, while he holds out a small container of bright purple fruit, each no bigger than the tip of your pinky.

You take a bite, allowing the sour and sweet taste of the fruit explode in your mouth, while the juice stains the delicate skin of your fingertips.

In your mind you begin to assemble a pastry around the flavor, thinking of the things you could make.

Maybe a jelly roll with honey-wine drizzle.

“These are perfect! I'll take two boxes." You smiling at the vendor who mirrors your enthusiasm and begins to pack up a bag for you while your eyes drift over the other fruits on the table considering what else you could create from oddly shaped products.

The market never failed to inspire you, and you often went back to the bakery laden down with multiple bags and exciting ideas about possible treats to bake. You also supposed that was the curse of shopping hungry, and it was something that you did often, but never regretted

Today you had been hoping to find more inspiration for savory treats. Since the day you went with Din to parent's night, he'd gone from stopping by a few times a week to everyday. And each time you'd send him off loaded down with a bag full of meat pies, stew, pastries, and anything else that you could think of.

It made you smile to yourself, but it drops a little bit when you think of him. Din hadn't been into the shop in a week. You knew that it was because he was out on "a job." He hadn't said where  he was going or what he was doing, but he had stopped by just before closing time the night before he left to tell you.

He'd loitered by the door for a few moments watching you sweep up and listen to you talk about your day while Grogu slept in the bag slung around Din's broad chest. And after he'd told you that he was going to be off planet for a few days.

You been surprised that he was telling you that, but at the same time you were happy he did. If Din had stopped showing up with no warning, you would have been worried that something terrible happened to him.

Despite his hesitancy to talk about it, you knew what Din did for a living, and even though you knew that Din was supposedly a mighty warrior and he wore armor that protected him, you still worried about him. The thought that Din would just vanish from your life made an unpleasant feeling bubble in the pit of your stomach.

It had happened so quickly, but you could feel yourself falling for him more each day, and his time away from you this week, had only proven how much you depended on seeing him every day.

The week had dragged on, each day longer and longer in Din's absense. You'd almost gone to find Karga to ask him if he'd heard from Din, or stopped Cara as she did her daily rounds about the city to see if Din was back. You'd held yourself back.

The trip to the market at the end of the longest week of your life had been an attempt to cheer yourself up, but it hadn't done much to keep your mind off him.

Each flash of silver in the sun had turned your head as you walked through, heart surging at the thought of running into Din, but every time you'd been disappointed.

It wasn't him and you missed him more than you thought possible.

You missed hearing his heavy sigh, seeing the tilt of his head as he watched you with a customer, and feeling the warmth of his gaze that made your cheeks heat.

You missed hearing his laugh at your jokes, seeing him cradling a sleeping Grogu in his arms, and smiling at the awkward hesitation Din had whenever you did something for him that he wasn’t expecting. Like when you rubbed a smudge of icing off his breastplate because Grogu had touched it with sticky hands, or when you'd made Din sit still while you patched a hole in his cowl with the emergency sewing kit you always had with you while he stammered that you didn't have to do that.

Those moments made you imagine that Din was blushing beneath his Beskar and smiling at you the way you smiled at him. You understood that the grumpy and somewhat stoic Mandalorian you'd come to know was not someone who blushed easily, but it gave you an unfathomable amount of joy to be the only person that could do that to Din.

Or at least… think that you were the one who made him blush.

“Hey baby.” You hear someone hiss, but you ignore it, expecting it to be directed at another customer and you continue looking at a collection of vegetables on the table, that are star shaped and bright red.

I wonder if they'd bring a little spice to a good hearty stew. Does Din like spicy food?

You made a mental note to ask him when you saw him.

“You here all alone?” The voice says again and you feel someone’s hand on the small of your back, pressing through the crimson dress you were wearing.

You flinch at the intrusion and turn your head to gaze up at a large Transdoshan that stands beside you. His reptilian face is split into a wicked smirk, tongue treading through his black lips, red beady eyes raking across your figure in a more than friendly way.

Nevarro did occasionally get a colorful group of bounty hunters, each month there were less and less with the way Cara and Karga were cleaning up the city, but you'd never seen a Transdoshan here before, especially not one this close.

Most of the bounty hunters kept to themselves, only coming in to your shop with clipped words before you sent them on their way, but there was something lurking behind his beady eyes that made a cold shiver trickle down your spine and your heart beat dangerously fast.

You wondered if he could hear it.

“No.” The lie slips through your lips before you can stop it, and you try to pull away from him to continue shopping, hoping that he'll leave, while the vendor watches the two of you uncomfortably.

“I think you are." The Transdoshan teases with a smiles so wide you can see all of his sharp teeth.  "And someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be out all alone on a beautiful day like this.”

The black stripes that run vertically up and down his face are a stark contrast against the white scales and red eyes. His hand presses harder against the small of your back and you can feel the sharp tips of his claws against your soft flesh through the dress.

You clear your throat, trying to slow the rapid beat of your heart. "Can you please move your hand? I'm trying to shop." You say it as politely as possible, but it does little to keep the tremor from your voice.

His red eyes crinkle around the edges with his smile as he hears the shake on your words. “I think I’ll keep it here. In fact why don’t you and I go somewhere a little more private.” He rasps, tongue flicking out through his fangs, as his other hand travels down to grip your wrist dragging your body back into his. His skin is cold, scaly, hard, and unyielding where it rests against your flesh.

His breath is warm and smells like something coppery and metallic, while his tongue tickles your cheek.

Another shudder travels down your spine when you think about going anywhere with him, especially alone.

Your eyes flick to the other people in the marketplace hoping to catch a glimpse of Cara Dune for help, but you don't see her.

You wish that Din hadn't gone away, wish that he was here with you, because you knew that if he was someone like this Trashdoshan would never come within ten feet of you.

“I’m okay thanks.”  You try to pull away cringing back from him, but he only tightens the grip he has on you, pulling your back harder against his chest.

“Come on sweet thing, don't be like that-“ the Transdoshan leans down, his dark tongue flicking between his sharp teeth, but as he does someone grabs him by the back of his jacket and rips him away from you, so hard and fast that the he stumbles away and lands in the dirt.

Even wearing full armor, Din looks furious as he puts himself between you and the Transdoshan laying on the ground a few feet away. Anger wafts off of him in waves through the silver Beskar into the blaring sunlight, and his shadow falls long over the warm ground beneath your feet.

Din pushes you behind him, wrapping his arm around your waist to keep your body pressed against his back as he looms over the Transdoshan. Your hand automatically comes up to his shoulder, allowing it to ground you to where you are, while Din’s hand is placed firmly on the back of your waist.

The Transdoshan rises to his feet with an angry snarl, lips curled back over pointed teeth that are about half the length of your pinky. It makes another shudder travel down your spine and you gasp softly against Din.

You feel Din's body tense at the sound of your gasp and feeling of your shudder, and the hand on the back of your hip tightens as Din pushes you further behind him into his back. You lean into his protective embrace.

“Don't you ever touch her again.” Din’s voice, although monotone, is laced with venom.

The Transdoshan's eyes flick to where you stand behind Din, his lips curling into a wicked smirk before he says something in his native tongue and then vanishes into the crowds of people enjoying the sunny day who have watched the drama unfold with wide eyes.

You relax as he vanishes and take a breath for the first time in a minute. “Thank you Din.” You say, but Din doesn't answer, in fact his arm tightens around you where it's wrapped around your waist. 

“Din?” You say his name softly to get his attention, but he doesn't turn. His gaze is focused in the direction that the Transdoshan disappeared.

“Wait here.” He says his voice still a growl through his helmet before he hands you the kid and vanishes in the same direction as the Transdoshan.

You try not to be disappointed when his arm is removed from around your body. You had felt so safe pressed against him, like no one could touch you.

You take in a shaky breath to calm your heart, that still seems to be going a mile a minute. Grogu reaches up and touches your chin with one of his little hands, drawing your eyes to the child in your arms.

“Hey Grogu,” You smile as the child coos and puts his fingers through your hair, tugging lightly at the strands that have pulled free from your floral scarf.

He coos something and nuzzles his head into your chest. You might be imagining this, but there's a part of you that thinks Grogu is trying to make you feel better.

It works.

You smile at the little creature, holding him closer to you as he reaches up again to squeeze your chin. "I'm okay."

Grogu blinks his dark eyes, but he mirrors your smile.

 “Are you having fun at the market?” You ask him, gently rubbing his ears, but notice that he has a brown sticky substance smeared on the bottom half of his mouth. “You’re a mess.” You laugh and take out a cloth from your bag, wet it with your tongue, and begin to gently drag it over his face.

Grogu wriggles defiantly under your ministrations, but you hold him fast and continue, allowing the rhythmic movement of the cloth against his face calm you and also distract you.

You had no idea where Din had gone, only that you were now more worried about him than you had been for yourself.

The Transdoshan was bigger than Din, what if he hurts him?

Din reappears next to you, the shine of his metal in the sunlight almost blinding, but you feel a wave of relief at his reappearance. There's a purplish-black substance flecked just under the right intention of his helmet that wasn’t there when he left.

“Are you alright Cyare?” Din asks, his voice a low rumble through the helmet, and then Din does something he’s never done, Din touches your cheek with his gloved hand, his helmet tilted down towards you.

Your eyes widen in surprise, gasping softly with his touch. It was the first time that Din had ever done anything remarkably like this, especially in front of the entire town that was still watching the two of you.

They always were, but by now you didn't care. You were used to the whispers, used to seeing women in the streets stare at you and then turn to one another as if they knew something you didn't.

"Yes." You breathe, looking up into the helmet with a soft smile. "Thank you Din."

"You do not have to thank me." Din replies, the roughness of his glove resting against your cheek is surprisingly comfortable.

"But-"

"Not for something like this. He won't bother you again." He says firmly, voice hardening.

For a brief moment you can feel his gaze locked on yours through the visor, and it brings a wave of comfort through your body, being here with him. A feeling of safety comes with it and you lean further into his touch with a sigh.

Din keeps his hand on your cheek for another few seconds before he drops it. You watch his head tilt in the direction of Grogu, who is still trying to squirm away from the wipe in your hand.

“I guess he’s saving whatever that was for later.” You say with a smile, changing the subject.

“We stopped at the shop, but you weren’t there.” Din explains. You can't help but think that he sounds a little disappointed.

“Oh so this is Uj cake.” You laugh as you finish cleaning. “I left Jax in charge. She’s pretty good at cashiering, not so much baking, but I thought that I made enough sweets for the morning rush at least."

The people pass by the two of you glancing nervously at the Mandalorian standing next to you, but you pay them no mind, gently rocking the child in your arms.

“How are you?” You ask Din.

"Good."

“I-um- wasn’t sure when you’d be back.” You drop your eyes to Grogu in your arms shyly. It was difficult not to show Din how much you missed him, and at the same time there was a part of you that wanted Din to know.

“It wasn’t supposed to take that long, but-“ Din stops mid-sentence, measuring his next words.

“But?” You look up at him raising an eyebrow in confusion.

You noticed that he did that a lot, that Din tried to censor what he said to you as if he were afraid to tell you the whole truth.

Sometimes you wondered if Din was waiting for you to run away screaming, for you to turn your back on him the way everyone else in town had, and it broke your heart. You wanted him to open up about his job with you, to tell you what he did, to tell you about the sprawling worlds that lay beyond this one.

You’d only been to a handful of other planets in your lifetime and you were sure that Din had some incredible stories about other worlds all over the galaxy.

Din waits another beat finding his words. “He kept evading me. I’m sorry I was gone so long.” Din remarks slowly.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“I did-“ He clears his throat. “Bring you something.” Din's fingers fidget slightly where his hands hang at his sides.

“Oh really?" You blink in surprise. "You didn’t have to.”

Din reaches into his bag and pulls out an old book. It’s covered in a dark blue tattered binding with faded silver script on the spine and cover, and yellowed pages. He takes Grogu from you before holding out the book to you.

You take it gently from his hand and open the first page to read the table of contents, and realize that it's a cookbook. The listed dishes of sweet and savory items are things you’d never heard of, but you feel yourself begin to buzz with excitement at the thought of trying out new recipes.

He was thinking about me.

The thought makes you smile to yourself and blush, that Din thought about you as much as you were thinking about him.

“I saw you sitting at the fountain a few days before I left, reading, and I thought you’d want another one.” His voice is huskier than usual and you wonder if it’s because he’s nervous.

“That was very sweet Din. Thank you.” You brush your fingers over the page before looking up at him with a bright smile. “I can’t wait to try these out."

He nods once.

“Why didn’t you come say hi when you saw me?”

“I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“I would have welcomed the disruption. Especially if I knew if you were going, I missed seeing you around." Your cheeks warm as you admit that to him, but you wondered if he felt that way about you, especially now that you had the cookbook clasped in your hand.

Din's muscles tense beneath his Beskar. "I-" He begins to say, but just as he does the Greef Karga walks by.

"Mando! You're back." Karga smiles wide at the sight of the Mandalorian. "Just who I wanted to see."

Din sighs. "What is it?"

"I need your help with something- only take a minute." Karga's gaze flicks to you. "Well isn't it Nevarro's favorite baker. Are you enjoying this fine day?"

The memory of the Transdoshan flickers across your mind, bringing the sharp feeling of his claws prickling against your back, and the warmth of his breath against your face. You shudder slightly, hoping that Karga misses it.

Din doesn't.

"Yes." Your smile feels a little bit forced. "I am."

"Good!" Karga booms. "Now Mando please, don’t make me ask again. I need you, old friend.”

Din's helmet hasn't turned away from where you stand, his concerned gaze focused on you for a moment too long. "Fine."

"Thank you!" Karga turns to go, expecting Din to follow, but Din steps closer to you.

"Are you alright cyar'ika?" Din asks it quietly under his breath and you watch his right hand twitch as if he was going to reach for your face again.

You didn’t know what the word meant, but you’d noticed that each time you were with Din, he'd use more and more words in Mando'a that you couldn't place. By now you were used to it, figuring that Din was getting more comfortable talking casually with you and it caused certain words in Mando'a to slip in to his vocabulary when he spoke.

"Yes, Din I'm fine. I promise." Your smile is genuine this time as you look up into the helm, and you reach out to touch his arm to reassure him.

Din waits a moment, his eyes tracing over you face beneath the helmet, before he sighs. "Can you watch the kid for me?"

"Of course. I'll go back to the shop. I'm sure that I can find something he wants to snack on." You place your new book in your bag before taking Grogu from Din, who gurgles happily and nuzzles into your neck.

Din sighs again and you imagine the Mandalorian rolling his eyes. "You shouldn't spoil him."

"He deserves it. And I like spoiling people." You didn't say that you wished Din would let you spoil him, because the big scary Mandalorian you'd heard rumors about was nothing like the man who showed up in your bakery for treats. There was a voice inside of you that wondered if he was as lonely as you were. "Thank you for the book, I'll see you in a little bit."

You walk away whispering to the child while he gurgles and squeaks grabbing on to the strands of your hair, not noticing how Din's eyes follow you through the market making sure that you're safe.

By closing time, Din still hasn't come to pick up Grogu, but you don’t mind. You liked spending time with him as much as you liked spending time with his father. You'd sent Jax home early, wanted to let her enjoy the rest of her day, and by now the twin moons had already risen from the horizon to bathe the city in a silver glow. The florescent signs that lined the streets flickered in multicolored splendor outside and strands of lights that lined the streets twinkled outside the shop.

Grogu was happily sitting on your counter with a bowl of stew clutched between his small hands, listening to you read aloud from the book of recipes that Din had brought you. There were so many recipes that you'd never heard of before, and by now you had a large list of ingredients written on a piece of paper beside the book you’d made. It meant another trip to the market, and you hoped that Din would go with you now that he was back in town.

"What do you think about stewed Jorgan berries with spiced egg-milk tart?" You muse aloud to Grogu who takes another sip from his bowl as you study the recipe written in neat script, running a fingertip down the list of ingredients. "I think that could be good." You continue, listening Grogu babble his answer. "Do you think Din would like it?"

The door at the front of your store opens, the happy jingle of the bell is familiar and welcome. You expected it to be Din, so you don’t bother looking up from the page. “Wow, Karga kept you a long time. What did he need?” 

But it's not Din that answers.

"Did you miss me sweet thing?" A voice hisses bringing a tremor of fear scuttling down your spine.

You raise your eyes from the book.

The Transdoshan dwarfs the front entrance of your shop, the lights of the street outside dramatizing the broad shoulders and imposing figure. It takes another step forward, mouth curling up in a snarl as it does.

One of it's eyes is completely swollen shut, the once white skin covering it an ugly blotchy purple, and it's lip is split, dripping purplish black blood onto the smooth wooden floors of your shop.

The color is familiar and you remember the flecks of liquid on the indention of Din's helmet from earlier.

Did Din do that?

The memory of how long Din was gone and how quick he was to follow the Transdoshan seemed to prove that.

He approaches the counter limping on his right leg as if putting weight on it is too much to bear.

"We're closed." You keep your voice from shaking. "Plus, I'm sold out."

Grogu coos softly, looking up at the creature that slinks forward, and you pick him up and move him out of harms way. The last thing you wanted was for Grogu to get hurt and if that meant putting yourself in between him and the creature that loomed over your counter so be it.

Why is he here? Why couldn't he have just slinked back to wherever the hell he came from?!

You'd thought that Din had made himself clear when he spoke to him earlier, but apparently this Transdoshan was more hard-headed than your favorite Mandalorian.

"Oh I'm not here for that." The one red eye glints with malice in the light, and before you can back up further, his hand flashes out across the counter and grabs your wrist, yanking you forward. "I'm here for something much sweeter."

You bite back a whimper.

Where is Din?

"You see, your Mandalorian disrespected me." The creature pulls you halfway across the counter, so close to him that you can feel his rancid breath against your face, the wood ledge presses painfully into your hip. "He wears all that fancy armor and I wasn't able to leave a mark on him. But you-" He raises his cold scaly hand to your cheek, dragging a claw down the arch of your cheekbone. "You were made for that." The claw bites into your skin following the subtle curve of your cheek.

The door behind him whips open so fast you imagine that it's been pulled off it's hinges. You can't see who it is, but all you know is that the creature is ripped away from you so suddenly that it almost pulls your arm off in the process.

You scramble backwards off the counter, holding your wrist to your chest, watching the scene unfold in front of you.

"Do you remember what I said I'd do to you if you ever touched her again?" Din's voice is a growl through the helmet, so different than the deep rumble you loved so much.

He has the Transdoshan pinned to the wall of the bakery, a silver knife pressed so hard against it's throat that blood blooms against the blade and drips down below the creature's collar.

“I don’t see your name written on her Mandalorian.” It spits back. “Perhaps she wants something more free range not someone locked up in a metal cage.”

Din's body tenses with the words and he growls out your name without looking away from the creature. "Take the kid into the kitchen. I don't want you to see this."

You do as he says without question, vanishing behind the curtain that separates the back and the front of the shop with Grogu clutched tightly against your chest.

He said you. He didn't say the kid.

The thought makes you remember how Din tried to distance you from when he spoke about his job, when you knew he was holding back details because he was afraid you wouldn't be his friend.

There's a sickening squelching sound, a muffled scream, and the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, but you don't leave the kitchen. You hold Grogu tighter to your chest and squeeze your eyes shut as your stomach knots at the unpleasant noises coming from the front of your bakery.

Din walks through the curtain, the dark blood of the Transdoshan splashed over the front of his Beskar, his chest rising and falling with the exertion. His helmet tilts in your direction and you watch him hesitate to come towards you, as if he's afraid that you would run from him.

How can I when I know he did that to protect me?

Before Din can decide to come closer, you run to him, throwing your arms around his chest with the kid pressed between the two of you, and burying your face against the hard metal of his breastplate. Sobs shake your body as tears burn and slip from your eyes, rolling down your cheeks.

You were trying not to focus on what had almost happened to you, but all you could think about is what would have happened if Din didn't show up when he did. Outside at the market had been a public place, but here, alone in your bakery there would have been no one to hear you scream.

You shudder at the thought.

It was enough to shock Din out of his stupor. He hadn't moved since you'd collapsed against him, momentarily surprised, but now his muscular arms come up around you to hold you against him. The breastplate was cutting into your cheek, but you didn't care, not when Din was actually hugging you back. 

"Shh cyar'ika, it's alright." Din murmurs, his voice softer than it was moments ago as he moves his hand up and down your back while you cry harder and tighten your arms around him. "He's not going to hurt you again I swear it."

The three of you stand there for another few moments, with Din rubbing his hand up and down your back while you cry softly into his armor and Grogu coos softly and nuzzles his head into you as if trying to bring you comfort the way his father is.

Din pulls back from you. "You're bleeding." His voice deepens a little bit and you can feel the invisible trace of his eyes over your face.

“Huh?” You sniffle, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

“Come on.” He leads you back to sit down on the ottoman of the plush armchair in the corner, tilting your face upwards and brushing back the strands of your hair that have fallen into your eyes.

You could see your reflection in the shine of his helmet, eyes swollen and rimmed with fresh tears, and an ugly long scratch that ran the length of your cheekbone.

“Does it look bad?” You whisper.  You couldn’t feel any pain, you were still in shock, anxiety thrumming through your body, with the possibility of what almost happened.

“No.” Din almost growls it, his gloved hand tightening on your chin as he continues to examine your face.

Finally he sighs, releases your chin, and tries to take Grogu from you, but Grogu wriggles defiantly and cuddles further into you.

"Please don't take him." You whisper in a voice you don't recognize. It sounds more hollow and still holds a little shake as you sniffle again.

Din does as you ask and kneels down at your feet, sitting back on his heels as he begins to strip off his gloves.

You blink in surprise, holding back the urge to reach eagerly for his hands, wanting to see just a peek of the skin, wanting to reach out and touch the forbidden flesh that he hid beneath his armor.

He doesn't notice your interest, instead Din stays focused on the task at hand.

Din reaches into the bag slung around his shoulders to pull out a small medical kit, methodically taking out the gauze and sterile spray.

 His fingertips reach to brush against your jawline and you gasp softly, not because he is touching the scratch that the Transdoshan left behind, but because Din's skin is touching yours. The exact thing that you'd wanted for so long.

"Are you alright? Does it hurt?" He rumbles, mistaking your gasp for pain. You can hear the worry in his voice. It stirs something in your chest, knowing how much he cared about you.

"No, it doesn't, not really." You smile faintly despite the situation.

"I'm sorry." He sighs shaking his head. "I should have come sooner. I shouldn't have assumed he would leave you alone."

"This isn't your fault." You whisper. "I'm okay."

"You're not."

"Din, I'm right here in front of you-"

Din's hand touches your cheek again. "But you're hurt. You wouldn't have been if I had been here with you. I was stupid to think-"

You raise your hand to touch the metal of his helmet, directly over where you imagined his cheek would be if he wasn't wearing it, tilting his helmet so you're sure he's looking at you through the visor. Din freezes in surprise. "This is not your fault Din. Please don't blame yourself for this. How were you supposed to know? Karga needed you for-"

"I do not care what happens to Karga. You needed me more and I wasn't here-"

"You were here when it mattered." You whisper back with a soft smile. "And you're here now."

He shouldn't beat himself up for this, not when it's not his fault.

"But-"

"No." You breathe wishing that you could see his face, touch his cheek the way he was touching yours, not just the feeling of the cold metal of his helmet against your hand, but the warmth of his skin. You knew that it could bring more comfort to him than this. "We're not going to go there. We're not going to think about 'what if' because if we do that we'll be here all night."

He sighs again.

Your thumb gently rubs over the indention of his helmet wishing again that it was his cheekbone. "I worry about you too."

"You worry about me?" Din chuckles, but there's a trace of surprise in his voice. "Why?"

"I mean you-" You press your lips together in a tight line before you drop your eyes from his helmet, the heat of his gaze through the helm too much.  It didn't matter that you couldn't see Din's face, you knew he was looking at you, and although you welcomed it, sometimes it was too much, especially now when you were admitting something like this. "I know what you do Din." You say it slowly, noticing how he stiffens, but you continue. "And you were gone for so long that I was afraid you were hurt or worse."

The thought that Din would never come back, that you'd never see him come into your shop with Grogu ever again haunted you.

Din's hand slips down to your chin, tilting up your face to look at him again. "Please do not worry about me cyar'ika. I swear to you that no matter what happens, I will always come back to you."

You didn't need to see Din's face to imagine the determination in his eyes when he says it, you could hear it in his voice, stirring something in the pit of your stomach that sends your heart surging up in your chest. It was so brutally honest, his voice holding more emotion than you'd ever heard before.

He said "to you."

The thought makes a shy blush creep into your cheeks.

Din keeps his hand on your chin for another few seconds, his gaze locked on yours through the helmet studying you. He was waiting for you to look away, waiting for some hesitation in your eyes. Din was a master of reading people, it was a part of his job understanding what a simple twitch on the end of someone's lips or of the flicker of someone's eyes meant. Din was waiting to see fear flash in your eyes, but there's nothing. There's only you.

It was why Din had told you to go into the kitchen, he hadn't wanted you to see what he was going to do to the creature who dared touch you. And after he'd expected you to tell him to leave, that you didn't wish for him to be around you anymore, that he was a murderer and scared you. It was the reason why Din didn't want his life as a bounty hunter to tangle with yours, because he feared the moment you found out the kind of person he was, found out what he'd done, understood how many times his hands ran red with blood, you would run from him. But you hadn't,  you had run to him, hugged him, collapsed into his chest and fit there like you belonged while asking him to comfort you.

The sharp tang of the Transdoshan's blood fills your nose and you can see the purple stain against the breastplate of Din's armor like a shadow, a reminder of what he did.

And maybe another person would be frightened, but you can't be, not when you knew that Din did those things to keep you safe. He was your friend and there was no part of you that believed Din would ever hurt you.

"I'm going to hold you to that." You smile into the visor, still only seeing yourself, but for some reason you can tell that Din is smiling back. Call it some inkling in the back of your mind, or some kind of psychic connection, but you can feel his smile.

"I don't break my promises cyare." He says firmly, but he leans into your hand where it still clutches the left indention on his helm.

Din had called you that several times since that walk home from the Parent's Night, and each time you were just a little disappointed. You hoped that Din saw you as more than a friend, especially after he'd promised that he'd "always come back to you," but you supposed not.

"I believe you."

"Good."

Din pulls back from you slowly to begin cleaning your wound again.

"Din?"

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?" You ask tentatively.

Din's rough fingertips work with a practiced methodical precision and deftness that you didn’t think he'd possess, gently cleaning your cheek. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"I wasn't sure if you were hurt too."

Din chuckles as he applies a bandage to your face. "What did I say about you worrying about me?"

"I didn’t promise I wouldn't worry." You laugh. "I just wanted to ask because you were fighting him."

"I am fine. My armor was sufficient to block his attacks." He reassures you before lifting up your left wrist to examine the bruising handprint the Transdoshan left behind. Din lets out a sigh that sounds close to a growl. "He should not have been able to do this to you."

"Is it broken?"

It didn't feel broken to you, it just hurt a lot more than the scratch on your face.

I hope people don’t think Din did this to me.

The thought of Ms. Cross and the other parents at the school gossiping about the new bandage on your face and what people had seen today in the market made your blood boil. You didn't want to hear a rumor about how Din invited another bounty hunter to Nevarro and it was Din's fault you got hurt.

"No, but I wouldn't knead any bread for a few days."

"Does that mean I get to hire you as an extra set of hands in the kitchen?" You joke. "Because I can always make you that pink apron. And yours certainly seem big enough to handle some dough."

Din only shakes his head, but before you can stop yourself, you reach out to take his hands in yours.

He stiffens.

It feels forbidden, like something you shouldn’t be able to do and yet you can't stop. You gently trace your fingers over the rough callouses on his palms worn from hard work and notice small scars that interlace and curve over the back of his hands over the burnished bronze of his skin. You wanted to memorize each one, to listen to the warm rumble of Din’s voice and  know the story of how they came to be.

Din sighs.

It's not the heavy sigh of annoyance he has when Grogu does something wrong, or the growl of a sigh he just had when he dwelt on what the Transdoshan did to you, this is different. It's soft through the modulator of the helmet, it wisps through the air and straight into your heart.

Oh no maybe I did something wrong.

"I'm sorry I should have asked-" You try to pull back, afraid that you've offended him, but Din takes your hands in his. They're much larger, warm and solid, but he holds yours with a gentleness that would have surprised you if you hadn't seen the way he was with Grogu.

"It's alright." He says softly.

"It feels wrong."

"What?" Din asks, voice laced with humor.

"I never see any of your skin." You were sure that by now your cheeks must be almost blinding under thermal vision. It felt like all the blood in your entire body had rushed to them and made them shine like a beacon in the night. "You don't take the helmet off to say hello and you certainly don't take off your gloves."

Din says your name softly. "It’s okay for you to see my hands."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." He laughs. "It's my face that you cannot see."

You chew the inside of your cheeks measuring your next question. It was the one question you’d had since you met Din, why he kept his helmet on when you knew other Mandalorians that did not. "Why?"

"This is the way." Din replies in a monotone as if reciting the phrase from memory.

That tells me absolutely nothing.

“You really wear it all the time?”

“Yes.”

“Even when you sleep?”

"Sometimes."

“It must be uncomfortable."

You couldn’t imagine waking up with your head in a helmet, you'd probably think you were suffocating. That or you’d think you went blind.

"I'm used to it." Din shrugs. "I've been wearing this since I was a boy."

“So since last week?” You say with a laugh squeezing his hands. You were trying to make light of the situation, given that you didn’t understand why Din wore his helmet and your brother did not.

Din chuckles, the warmth of his laugh making you feel like you’d sunk into a hot bath. His helmet is tilted down where you’re holding his hands in your own watching your fingertips trace over the scars that weave over his sun-kissed skin.

“But what if you-“ You stop the question before it comes out of your mouth.

Din’s head tilts up to look at your face. “What if I what?”

“Nothing, it’s too personal.”  You shake your head in embarrassment.

You didn't know what had made you almost blurt out the question 'what if you wanted to kiss someone?'

Well, you did know, because you wanted to kiss him, but you didn't know if Din saw you that way. Given the way he kept calling you "friend" in Mando'a you were sure of it.

“Please ask me Cyare.” Din gives your right hand an encouraging squeeze.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You cannot.” He says gently.

You swallow. “What if you wanted to kiss someone? You wouldn’t take off your helmet? And if you got married Din, you’d just never-“ You trail off, cringing at your questions. You weren’t about to open the can of worms that was asking Din about his sex life.

I should just shrivel up and die.

Din’s thumb deftly traces your bruised wrist in a soothing motion, taking his time before he answers. “There are other ways to kiss someone.”

“Oh.” You had no idea what that meant but you were still trying to not be so damn awkward because now you were imagining what it would be like to kiss Din. Not to mention the feeling of him holding your hands skin against skin felt so good it was making you transcend to another plane of existence. "Like what?"

His thumb stills.

"Please forget I asked that. You don't have to explain if you don't want to." You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment. You really really didn't want to make Din nervous, not when it felt like he was actually opening up to you. It was what you had wanted since the moment you met.

Din raises his hand to your cheek, his gaze locked on yours through the opaque visor. He clears his throat. "May I show you?"

For a moment you forget how to breathe.

"Yes." You squeak.

Oh holy glazed honey buns he's going to kiss me.

Din waits a moment, before he very gently pulls your head down to his and rests his forehead against yours. You gasp softly, feeling the cool metal of his helmet against the heated blush of your face, fogging around where it rests against your skin.

And before Din can pull away, you raise your hand to the left indenture of his helmet once more, mirroring his own hand on your cheek, tilting you head to look into the dark visor with a soft smile.

Din sighs.

It’s not the tired sigh he has whenever Grogu does something or whenever you give Grogu a treat, it's softer, the same sigh he had when you first touched his hands. You're under the impression that he didn't mean to do that, but you see the tension dissipate from his shoulders as he leans further into you waiting another few precious seconds before he pulls away and your hand falls from his cheek.

Din doesn't say anything for a moment and truthfully you couldn't think of anything either. There was a strange energy in the room between the two of you, a tension that wound tight around where Din was kneeling in front of you and you were sitting. You knew he was only demonstrating, but there was something about it that felt like more.

His head tilts down to look at your wrist again. "We should ice that." He says, voice huskier through the voice modulator than it was a few moments ago.

"Oh, I can-"

Grogu reaches out with his hand and touches the delicate skin of your left wrist, laying gently against the bruised flesh. Warmth blooms where his three fingers grasp your arm, wrapping and curling around the bones and muscle, weaving them back together. And you watch as the flesh takes on it's normal color before your very eyes.

Grogu sighs heavily and falls back into your lap in a daze.

"How did he do that?" You raise your wrist to your face to examine it closer, slowly rotating your hand and flexing your fingers in surprise.

You hadn’t been looking forward to using only one hand in the bakery, but you were willing to make do with what you had.

Din gently take Grogu from your lap to into his bag, who has begun to snore quietly.  "He's always been able to do that."

"Heal people?"

Din nods once, but doesn't embellish.

Worry begins to trickle in at the way Grogu seemed to crumple as if it took too much out of him to do that. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Yes. He just needs to sleep.

You look down at the creature resting in the pouch, his small head cuddling into the worn leather side of the bag.

Curious.

"Thank you Grogu." You whisper, gently stroking his ears while he slumbers. He stirs for a moment to babble something under his breath in his sleep, but quickly drifts off once more.

“He didn’t want to see you in pain.” Din says quietly. “I understand how he feels.”

Your heart thuds an extra beat when Din says that and it again reminds you of what Din had done for you today, how he'd protected you and put himself in harm's way to keep you safe.

Din stands from his position on the ground and holds out a hand to you. "I would like to walk you home, if that's not too much to ask."

"I'd like that Din, but I still have to clean up-" You wave a hand at the kitchen that still has dirty bowls and pans stacked in the sink. “I can’t leave the kitchen like this.”

"Let me." His helmet turns in the direction of the front of your shop to look over his shoulder. "There are some things in here that I need to take care of. And I'd like to make sure you get home safe."

The memory of the sounds you heard coming from the front when Din was dealing with the Transdoshan make you cringe in disgust. The thought of cleaning up what was left of him made your stomach tie itself in knots and the sour taste of bile rise in the back of your throat.

But you didn’t want to leave Din with all this mess.

“Are you sure?"

"Yes. I want you to get some rest."

Din gently leads you by the hand to the curtain partition that divides your kitchen from the front of the shop, but stops so suddenly you walk into his back.

He turns to look at you over his shoulder. "Close your eyes."

You do what he asks without hesitation and Din leads you through the shop and out the front door into the moonlit streets beyond.

The walk home is silent, but odder still is that Din has not released your hand since he led you through the tables and chairs at the front of your shop. He holds it gently, as if it's a beating heart.

But you weren't going to complain. The feeling of Din's bare skin against yours was giving you a pleasant buzz. The warm roughness of his palm surprisingly soothing. You didn't know how you were going to go back to feeling the leather of his gloves when all you wanted was this.

Not to mention that the streets were blessedly empty and there wasn't anyone watching Din and you together.

When you arrive at your door, Din says your name to catch your attention.

"Yes?" You ask.

He looks down at where his hand is still in yours as if he can't believe it. His thumb begins to trail over the back of your hand. "I didn't answer your question."

"My question?"

What question did I ask him?

Din hesitates again, unsure. "I can reveal my face to people in my clan. And if-" Din clears his throat. "If I were married, my wife would see me without my helmet."

"Oh, oh." You said eyes widening in surprise.

Frankly, you were shocked that Din was bringing this up again, but you weren't going to stop him. Not when Din was opening up to you again.

"We would be one. The other half of me." Din says this slowly. "My riduur."

“Riduur.” You murmur the word feeling the syllables roll off your tongue.

"Yes." He nods at your pronunciation of the word.

Your eyes trace the familiar lines of Din's helmet, again thinking what he would look like. It was something that you always did in the past, but now the idea that you wouldn't get to see him, stung just a little bit. It was difficult for you to imagine Din with someone else, to know that someone else got to see the soft side of Din that he only showed when you were with him, but you also knew that you would try your hardest to be happy for him if he ever took a wife. He was after all, your only friend on Nevarro and really your only friend beside your brother.

"She would be very lucky to be with you." You say looking up into the helm, a soft smile pulling on the end of your mouth as you give Din's hand an encouraging squeeze. "Just as I am lucky to have you as a friend."

Din's body goes stiff in surprise. It was the last thing that he was expecting you to say to him. In fact Din was afraid that he had said too much to you. Especially given that he was about to start courting you. The book he'd given you today would be the first in a series of gifts that he would bring back to prove his commitment and ability to provide, as had Din's statement that he would always come back to you and his remodeling of his home to make a bigger kitchen and more room for you if you were to accept him. Of course there was a part of Din that wasn't sure that you would accept him.

That was why Din hadn't told you what "cyare" really meant or tell you why he brought you the book. He thought that maybe easing you into it would be better.

Before Din can respond, you pull him into a hug, wrapping your arms around him as tight as you can. "I know you keep saying that I don’t have to thank you, I do. You saved my life Din. Thank you."

Din's body curves up around yours holding you tightly against the hard cool metal of his armor. "You're welcome cyare."

Guide:

Cyar'ika: Sweetheart

Cyare: Beloved

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! If you'd liked to be added to my taglist for fics in this universe please let me know!

Taglist:

@jollyhunter @scoliobean @pressedwater @littlebear423 @bookloverkat

@scorpio-echo @windsweptarmadillo @foxin5billion @silas-aeiou

[aventurineswife]

aventurine and whatever characters you wanna add with a wife reader and child

aventurine (and other characters) pretend to be santa and deliver presents for their kid on christmas eve :3

their kid will catch them in the act and ask if its really santa (they totally are, dont crush a kid's dreams on santa (i learned the hard way he wasnt real 😔))

-:3 anon

Special Gift from Santa!

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Fluff, Family Moments, Fatherhood, Winter Special, Heartwarming, Romance.

A/N: I can't believe people still think Santa is real 💀... Like damn, i already knew santa wasn't real as a child and was rather a made up character/mascot but still its funny. Thank God, I didn't go through that just to get my heart broken lol 😪 sorry for your loss tho🫂

Christmas Eve aboard your cozy little ship felt magical. The soft hum of the engines blended with the quiet crackle of a small holographic fireplace. Strings of colorful lights flickered, casting warmth across the room. Your child had insisted on hanging their handmade decorations all over the cabin. Their innocent excitement over Santa Claus’s impending arrival filled your heart with joy—and Boothill’s too, though he’d never admit it outright.

“I still think this whole ‘Santa’ thing is ridiculous,” Boothill grumbled under his breath, adjusting the red hat atop his white hair. He was dressed in a mismatched Santa suit you’d cobbled together from spare fabric: a red jacket (barely hiding his mechanical torso), a black belt, and fuzzy white cuffs. “They’re too smart for this kinda stuff.”

You smirked, watching as he held a small sack of presents. “Oh, come on, Boot. They believe in Santa. Just this once, let them have the magic.”

He huffed, shark-like teeth flashing in a reluctant grin. “Fine. But if I get caught, it’s on you.”

You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’ll do great.”

The ship was quiet except for the sound of Boothill’s spurs softly jingling as he tiptoed into their room. The sack slung over his shoulder shifted slightly as he crouched down by the small Christmas tree you’d set up at the foot of their bed. The dim glow of the tree lights reflected in his black, aim-marked eyes.

He carefully began pulling out the gifts you’d wrapped together: a handmade doll, a small toolkit, and a bundle of colorful space-themed storybooks. Boothill placed them beneath the tree, his mechanical hand moving with a surprising gentleness.

But as he straightened, a small voice broke the silence.

“Santa?”

Boothill froze. Turning slowly, he saw them sitting up in bed, their wide, sleepy eyes sparkling with wonder. They clutched their blanket tightly, staring at him in awe.

For a moment, Boothill panicked internally. Do I tell them? No, I can’t crush their dreams. Play it cool, cowboy.

He straightened his hat, giving them a toothy grin. “Ho ho ho, kiddo,” he said, his gruff voice deepening into a surprisingly convincing Santa impression. “You caught me.”

Their eyes lit up. “It is you! I knew you’d come!” They scrambled out of bed and ran to him, throwing their arms around his legs.

Boothill blinked, momentarily stunned by the hug, then gently patted their head. “Y-Yeah, uh, Santa always keeps his promises.”

They looked up at him, their expression serious. “Are you really Santa? You look kinda… like my dad.”

Boothill crouched down, meeting their gaze. “I get that a lot,” he said, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Your dad’s a real good guy, huh? Maybe that’s why I wanted to visit you special tonight. You’ve been real good this year.”

They beamed, their earlier suspicion forgotten. “Did you see my wish list?”

“Sure did,” Boothill said, reaching into the sack and pulling out one of the gifts. “This one’s from the top of the list, right?”

They gasped, their tiny hands trembling as they accepted the gift. “You’re the best, Santa!”

Once they had fallen asleep again, Boothill returned to the main cabin, his hat slightly askew and a soft smile lingering on his face.

“How’d it go?” you asked, leaning against the doorway.

“Kid bought it,” Boothill said, his tone half-joking but tinged with pride. “Didn’t even flinch when I said I looked like their dad.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him. “I told you you’d make a great Santa.”

Boothill shook his head, glancing toward their room. “That little one of ours… they deserve the whole galaxy.”

You smiled, resting your head against his chest. “They’ve already got it, Boot. They’ve got you.”

And for the first time in years, on that quiet Christmas Eve, Boothill felt a warmth in his heart that even revenge couldn’t match.

Snowflakes drifted gently outside the window, their crystalline patterns catching the soft glow of the streetlights. Inside the cozy warmth of their home, the scent of pine and cinnamon filled the air. Aventurine, adorned in an elaborate Santa costume—complete with a fluffy red coat, a crooked white beard, a golden bell tied to his wrist, and a festive Santa mask that concealed his unmistakable features—was crouched beside the glittering Christmas tree. His eyes, barely visible through the mask’s cutouts, gleamed mischievously as he carefully arranged the gifts.

His wife, you, leaned against the doorway, stifling a laugh at the sight. "You look ridiculous," you whispered, your arms crossed playfully.

Aventurine looked up, feigning mock insult. "Ridiculous? My dear, I am a vision of holiday cheer and generosity. This costume cost more than the tree itself. It’s haute couture Santa."

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. "I think it’s wonderful that you’re doing this for our little one. But try not to wake them, alright? They’ll figure it out one day, and I’d rather it not be tonight."

Aventurine gave a dramatic bow. "Fear not, my darling. I am as silent as a card sliding into the slot of a roulette table. Luck favors me, after all."

You sighed fondly and retreated to the bedroom, leaving him to his antics.

As Aventurine carefully placed the final gift under the tree, a soft rustling sound made him freeze. Turning his head slowly, he saw a pair of wide, curious eyes peeking out from the staircase.

"Santa?" the small voice whispered.

Aventurine's heart nearly skipped a beat. His child—a miniature whirlwind of joy and mischief—was clutching their favorite stuffed animal, their little face glowing with wonder in the dim light.

Straightening his hat and beard, Aventurine gave the most convincing "Ho ho ho!" he could muster. "Indeed, it is I, Santa Claus! And who might you be, little one?"

The child’s face lit up as they descended the stairs cautiously. "I’m [Child’s Name]! You… you’re really real?"

Aventurine knelt down, adjusting the mask to keep his disguise intact. "Oh, of course I am! How else would these presents get here? Magic reindeer and all that, you know." He tapped the side of his mask conspiratorially.

They tilted their head, scrutinizing him. "But… you have Papa’s smile."

Aventurine inwardly cursed his expressive features but quickly recovered. "Ah, clever observation! You see, your papa is on my ‘Nice’ list every year. We share a bit of Christmas spirit—it’s why my smile looks so familiar."

The child beamed, satisfied with the explanation. "Did the reindeer really fly you here?"

"Absolutely," Aventurine replied, his tone solemn as he leaned in closer. "And let me tell you a secret—they love carrots and sugar cubes. So, if you leave them out next year, they’ll be extra fast."

The child’s awe was palpable. "I will! But… why are you still here? Don’t you have more presents to deliver?"

Aventurine smiled beneath the mask, feeling a warmth he rarely allowed himself to acknowledge. "I do, but I had to make sure the most special house on my list got the perfect gifts." He gently booped their nose.

The child giggled and hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Santa."

Aventurine's chest tightened at the pure innocence of the moment. He hugged them back, careful not to break the illusion.

When the child finally went back to bed, clutching their stuffed animal and wearing a smile bright enough to rival the stars, Aventurine stood and adjusted his costume. You returned quietly, your eyes soft as you took in the scene.

"That was... beautiful," you whispered, wrapping your arms around him.

Aventurine chuckled softly, pulling you close. "Sometimes, the greatest gamble isn’t in the game but in the act of keeping the magic alive."

You kissed his cheek through the mask, feeling the silly fabric against your lips. "Merry Christmas, my gambler."

"And to you, my darling. Now, let’s get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll have to deal with the chaos of unwrapping."

As the two of you retreated, Aventurine couldn’t help but glance back at the tree, feeling a rare sense of peace. For all his risks, for all his calculations, this moment—this joy—was worth more than any gamble he’d ever won.

I don't know if you guys ever saw that meme but it was something like “I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus” but it's actually the dad dressed up as santa and I kept thinking about it while writing this, maybe I'll write something with that prompt? 🤷‍♀️

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Kinktober - Day 18

18th — role play, Sebastian Vettel

The previous day I The next day I Kinktober masterlist I Main list

“Why don’t we play a game” he suggests standing in the door to your bedroom.

“Seb, honey, I don’t know about that”

“What if I promise you’ll like it?” reluctantly you agree and Sebastian zips out of the room all of a sudden with a “Back in a minute”. You’re awfully confused right now but trust that this is going to be thrilling when he comes back.

The door to your room opens once more and standing in front of you is Seb dressed in pale blue scrubs. He looks delicious with the way they arms hug his biceps so tightly and the trousers are doing wonders for his thighs.

“Excuse me, is there a miss y/n L/n in the waiting room today?” he says with such cool authority. You catch on at this moment, he wants to play doctor so of course you will be his willing patient.

“If you would just step in this room with me” you get up off the bed and walk towards him, taking his arm as he leads you back to next to the bed.

“Now, if you would just remove your t shirt and bra and pop yourself on the examination table” he gestures to the bed 

“We can begin the breast exam” Sebastian wastes no time getting there, you think to yourself but do as he says. 

Lying down on the bed you smile as he warms his hands with his breath, rubbing them together slightly in a typical doctor fashion. He begins the breast exam, his hands skillfully exploring your curves. His touch is firm yet gentle, sending tingles through your body. He begins to paw at your breaths, cupping them and squeezing with both hands. He always knows what he’s doing when it comes to your tits, he reminds you they’re your best asset almost daily. He’s pinching at your nipple now and rolling them between his fingers which excites a small moan from your mouth. He notices the subtle moan escaping your lips and grins, pleased by your reaction to his skilled touch. “Mmm, sounds like someone's enjoying the examination,” he teases, continuing to manipulate your nipples with deft fingers. “But we can't forget about the rest of you, can we? Now, let's move on to the rest of the examination.” 

His gaze meets yours, intense and smoldering. “Please lift your hips so I can remove these pants.” As you comply, he slides the fabric down your legs, revealing your bare skin inch by inch. Once you're fully exposed, he steps back to admire the view, a sly grin playing on his lips. “Not bad, not bad at all,” he comments, his eyes roving over your body appreciatively. “Now, lie back and spread your legs for me, Honey.” His tone brooks no argument, commanding and authoritative. He leans over you, his face inches from yours, as he begins the internal exam. His fingers slide inside you, expertly probing and examining. Reaching your apex, he parts your thighs wider, settling between them. His hot breath wafts over your sensitive flesh, making you tremble with anticipation. “Let's take a closer look at this area, shall we?” He murmurs, his tongue darting out to taste you, savoring your sweetness. You can feel the heat of his breath on your most intimate areas, making you squirm with a mix of discomfort and arousal. “Mmm, very good,” he praises, his voice a low rumble against your skin. “Your reflexes are excellent. I think we're almost done here.” He continues his ministrations, pushing and curling his fingers within you, until suddenly, he finds a particularly sensitive spot. Your back arches off the bed as a gasp escapes your lips. “Oh, my,” he chuckles, his fingers still working the magic within you. A moan erupts from your lips and you cover your mouth. 

“Please miss, we have other patients in the waiting room. If you could keep it down” he brushes your clit again with his finger and you moan into your hand once more which only makes him grin harder seeing your pathetic attempt to hide the pleasure he’s causing you. 

“Oh, my,” he chuckles, “It seems we've hit a sweet spot. Don't worry, I won't keep you there too long…”

After finishing the internal exam, he sits back on his haunches, admiring the sight of you laid out before him, flushed and breathing heavily.

"Well, that concludes our examination, Miss Y/N L/N," he says with a smirk, clearly enjoying the power dynamic. "I must say, you passed with flying colors. Perhaps even earned some extra credit..."

He trails a finger down your stomach, leaving a path of goosebumps in its wake. "But tell me, did you enjoy the experience? Or should I schedule a follow-up appointment?"

His hand drifts lower, teasing the soft flesh of your inner thigh. "Because I have to admit, I quite liked being your doctor today... Maybe we could arrange for more 'check-ups' in the future?"

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[thanksbutno98]

hey I just wanted to say I absolutely love your stories and you're an amazing writer!

I saw you're having a hard time finding inspiration so maybe something like a really hot and young guy flirts with the reader, John gets really insecure because he's older and reader decides to remind him just how hot he is ;) doesn't have to be nsfw if you're uncomfortable with that.

Anywho, hope you have a wonderful day and can't wait to read anything you come up with

Jealousy

John Price x fem!reader

Authors Note: thank you so much for your wonderful idea! I used a bit of inspiration form another request to write this. It’s a bit of a dive back into the start of John and Indy’s relationship. This post was giving me such a hard time to post so it’s not my best quality purely based off frustration.

Summary: A day of shopping with your children turns awry when John Price meets your ex for the first time.

Warnings: sexual themes, mention of cheating, insecurities, severely not edited.

——————

Silky fabric slipped through your fingers as you continued to pushed clothes aside. The hangers scraped against the cool metal hanging racks as you searched for the appropriate size. Pulling out the white Hawaiian shirt that was decorated in pineapples you turned to your husband with a bright smile. Holding it up and seeing if it suited him.

You could see John was trying to light the shirt ablaze with his fiery gaze. He knew better than to argue with you over clothes since you constantly told him how poor his fashion sense was. Begging him to branch out a bit from flannels, quarter zips, and plain t-shirts and jeans.

Looking him over with the shirt still in hand you shook your head and frowned. It wasn’t the right one so you continued your search for some pleasant beach attire for your husband. John sighed in relief not having fallen victim to you dressing him up. Although those obnoxious light blue swim trunks with flamingos on them were going to find there way back on a hanger when you weren’t looking.

Today was the day you had dragged your whole family out to go shopping. The kids needed new clothes and you needed a few odds and ends. The department store had everything you could think of and your husband was dreading it along with his son. This meant you would end up with things that weren’t even on your list, like a shirt for John. He had half a mind to go look at the power tools since you were getting out of hand.

John was dressed in jeans and a fitted black quarter zip that he had pushed the sleeves up to his elbows. His facial hair was freshly manicured and he smelled of cedar and spearmint. Lily was strapped into the baby carrier on his chest and babbling away, occasionally tugging on John’s facial hair which would make him wince but he didn’t do much about it.

Evelyn and Jj had been subjected to try on outfit after outfit. Evelyn loved every second of it. Strutting around and modeling the clothes for you all. Jj on the other hand was entering into an age where he hated everything you picked out for him. Deciding to let him choose his own clothes which you and John were internally cringing at. He was getting his sense of style from his father which wasn’t saying much. So far Jj insisted on camouflage cargo pants, a jean jacket and kept looking through hats unable to find one he loved.

The tapping of small feet caught your attention as you watched your daughter zoom through the clothing racks. She had her favorite red sweatshirt on and galaxy leggings. You had let her and Jj roam around the toy and video game section while you and John finished up the shopping.

“Can I get this?” Evelyn was holding up a small Lego set.

It was the Harry Potter hospital set that your daughter had been eyeing for months. You thought about it for a moment seeing no problem with spending the money since you had gotten a hefty bonus at work. The word ‘yes’ was on the tip of your tongue but before you could say a word your husband interjected.

“No. You hardly pick up your legos as is.” John had a straight face and you knew exactly what was on his mind.

The previous night John had stepped on a stray Lego in the living room. You could have sworn he had gotten shot with how he hollered in pain. The man complained so much he claimed they were more effective than landmines or he could start using them as shrapnel in grenades. You could only roll your eyes at his dramatics and asked in a condescending way if he needed a med evac. You two ended up bickerimg about it until you both realized how childish you were being. Ending up cuddling on the couch and making up from the silly spat by taking turns rubbing the others feet.

“But it would be so cool if Danny came over and put it together with me.” Evelyn pleaded with her father. Taking the box and showing him and then babbling about how cool it looked.

You watched as John’s eye twitched in annoyance. Evelyns new best friend was a boy named Danny who just moved in down the street. They had become thick as thieves and played every day they could and rode their bikes around together. It was cute because the boy had the biggest crush on your daughter and the first two times he had come over he had a flower for you and one for Evelyn. It was common to see him a few times a week he even had dinner with you from time to time and Evelyn would at his house too.

Dannys father joked about young love which John did not appreciate. Shooting the comment down and saying his daughter wasn’t in love. You later lectured John to stop being overprotective the two kids were seven it was an innocent crush that you weren’t even sure your daughter reciprocated. It had gone so far Jj was becoming skeptical of Danny and you were convinced John told your son to keep an eye on the young boy so there was ‘no funny buisness’ as John liked to say.

“Why don’t you put it in the carriage for now. We’ll think on it. Look at me Evie that doesn’t mean yes.” You were bending down to her level to make it clear to your daughter. She smiled sweetly then gave you her signature puppy dog face.

“Okay, mummy! Can I keep looking at the toys?” She asked, her small hands clasped as she swayed back and forth looking incredibly cute.

“Go for it.” You laughed and watched as she skipped away from you and your husband, leaving the clothing section and going off to explore.

“You’re spoiling her.” John reminded you.

“I know but I can’t help it. We both grew up with so little don’t you want to see them have the things that we could never have?” You asked batting your eyes up at your husband. It was now your mission to get him to agree with buying this Lego set.

John’s stern expression faltered for a moment. Seeing you all doe eyed and looking up at him as if he had hung the moon and the stars had his heart rate picking up slightly. You were so pretty with your hair tied back and in the scoop neck, long sleeve sweater dress, that hugged your body perfectly. John loved being as tall as he was because it gave a perfect vantage point to see right down your dress and admire your cleavage. That’s when John realized what you were doing and his eyes narrowed. Your arms were pressing your breasts together in an attempt to seduce him. You were trying to play him and get what you wanted by using your feminine charm, and it almost worked.

“You’re tricks aren’t going to work on me today.” John quipped. You pretended to be disappointed, pouting slightly and sighing in a pathetic way as if you’d been beaten.

“Am I wrong though?” You asked in mock sadness. John could only chuckle at your display. A smile peaking through your charade.

“No, you’re not. But if we buy it she should do some extra things around the house to earn it.” Wrapping his arm around your shoulders John pulled you close and kissed the top of your head. You smiled brightly up at him.

“Fair enough.” Your words were chipper. Standing on your toes and kissing John’s cheek sweetly and giving him a seductive wink. You giggled as your husband slyly grabbed a handful of your ass.

“I’m going to go look at a few more things if you wanna take a walk.” With a smile you pointed in the direction of beauty department.

“Yeah, hopefully a walk will put this little one to sleep.” John peered down at Lilly who was staring at him and blinking slowly, her eyes clearly heavy.

You and John walked out of the clothes section and parted ways. John took the carriage and looked over his shoulder so he could check out your ass as you walked away. That’s when John noticed a group of about five university aged boys pointing at his darling wife clearly enamored by you. One of the boys gestured in a way that made it seem like your ass was perfectly round, which John agreed it was but still he didn’t like anyone else noticing. Another shoved a tall lanky kid as if to get him to go up and talk to you but you were already gone. John memorized their faces in case he needed to do anything about their crude behavior. When they saw John staring they were quick to shuffle away.

It always made John incredibly angry when other men ogled you or acted in a perverted way. The fact you were beautiful and sexy as hell was one of the reasons John couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He benefited from it greatly and you were just as enamored by him. That didn’t stop the wariness John felt.

There had been multiple occasions when men had cornered you or made you feel threatened and it sickened John. Your sweet nature usually got you into a bit of trouble with gross men and your feisty attitude could only go so far. It was concerning at times.

By the time you made it to the beauty section your phone had dinged. Opening the new text message from your husband you laughed out loud.

‘Those uni boys were checking out your ass. Let me know if you need back up.’

‘Only you can handle all this ;)’ You texted back.

You giggled as you typed away on your phone. John responded with a simple ‘ok’ which wasn’t surprising. That man was a horrible texter and couldn’t be bothered to learn how tone works through text. You went back to searching for the brand of deodorant you liked and then makeup wipes. It didn’t take long before you were heading to the toy section to gather both your children and go find John.

“Y/N?” A distantly familiar voice called your name. You knew that voice you just couldn’t quite place who’s it was. Turning your eyes immediately fell to your husband about 15 yards away who was waving and pointing down at Lily to signal she had fallen asleep. But it wasn’t John’s voice you heard. Turning slightly your eyes became as big as saucers. In front of you stood Hugh your ex boyfriend from right before you met John.

Hugh looked almost exactly the same only aged a bit. His curly jet black hair was gelled back, a single curl coming loose and falling just above his eyebrow. He was dressed in jeans, work boots, and a leather jacket. That’s when you remembered he rode a moter cycle. It was strange seeing bits of grey in his hair and lines on his forehead. His green eyes were still bright and he still stood much taller than you. With outstretched arms he motioned for a hug, his body still looking toned and athletic. It had you feeling strange that he was still so handsome. That’s when the thought of who he was as a person came flooding back.

You couldn’t help the sour face you gave him. The smile on his face dropping as he realized you weren’t happy to see him after so many years. With an awkward laugh Hugh slowly dropped his arms to his side.

“You’re still a knockout, Y/N. I’m sorry for how shitty things ended. I was a real prick.” The way he complimented your appearance with his thick Yorkshire accent didn’t come off crude and that was his type of charm. Flirting in the most innocent way that could be misconstrued as friendliness. It made your skin crawl.

“Honestly I’m happy you were a prick. I wouldn’t have met my husband if you weren’t.” You gave him a forced smile. It felt better to show off your happiness than to show how much you didn’t want to see him.

“Oh, woah. Congrats, that’s amazing for you. He’s a lucky guy.” Hugh looked you up and down again his eyes lingering a second to long on your chest. You didn’t know it but he was wondering how your breasts had gotten so much bigger.

“I am.” John’s thick voice cut in, a bit more gravely than usual. He sounded like he did after chain smoking or when he first woke up in the morning.

John wasn’t too sure how intimidating he looked with a sleeping baby strapped to his chest or a carriage filled with pink and purple clothing for Evelyn and a breast pump since yours broke the previous day.

When John saw you look this guy up and down, frown and then give a snarky expression so openly, he was hustling over. John had no clue who this man was or what he said but John was still on guard from the university boys from earlier. It also didn’t help this man is what he thought most women would consider conventionally attractive.

“Holly shit. You’re a mum?” The look of surprise made John’s grip tighten on the carriage.

“Yeah, John and I have three. John, this is Hugh. Hugh, John.” You gave John a simple smile eyes communicating everything as you held contact for a second longer than usual. John had heard the name before having told about this long ago while you two were only first dating.

“Nice, to meet you mate.” You watched as they shook hands and you knew they were both death gripping the others. John was instantly pissed off to have this prick trying to grip his hand so tightly. Maybe you had a type. Over protective, calm and collected, tall, British men. Sprinkle in a little bit of a prideful ego and a need for dominance.

“Seem surprised, Y/N’s a mum.” John couldn’t help but challenge Hugh’s former comment. His eyes were narrowed and you could see them both standing a bit straighter and sizing the other up. You wanted to roll your eyes at these two who were getting into a pissing contest. You were married for Christ sake it’s not like there was anything to worry about. John had his ‘claim’ over you, it was sitting on your ring finger and strapped to his chest.

“Ah, she just didn’t want kids I thought.” Hugh said a bit hesitantly. It was a rude thing to say in front of your husband. If violence was an option you would have smacked him. You always wanted kids just not with him.

“You didn’t want kids?” Jj’s voice interrupted you all. A cold shiver ran up your spine and your skin felt hot. Turning you saw your boy with a baseball cap on backwards.

“No, no. Of course I wanted you.” There was no hesitation as you went to hug your son.

“Ew, not in public mum.” Jj stepped away giving you an annoyed look. Then giving the random man you were talking to a dirty one since his father looked like he wanted to kill the guy.

“Well, it was-“ you paused for a second trying to find the right word.

“Surprising, to see you.” You shot a forced smile over your shoulder. Hugh caught the hint and nodded with a tight lipped smile to John, then you and walked away.

“Who was that?” Jj asked giving you a pointed look.

“An old uni friend of your mums.” John explained. It was a round about way of saying it. You had met Hugh at the end of your doctoral program and dated for awhile. The break up happened the week before you went on that dig where you met John.

It was a messy break up and you were ready when it ended. The constant fighting, lack of trust, and his controlling nature was why you ended things and Hugh didn’t react in a way you were expecting. Immediately sleeping with the girl he told you there was no need to worry about out of spite. Then begging for you two to get back together and give him another chance.

It lasted a few years before he stopped reaching out at random times. He would wish you happy birthday or ask if you were free for dinner. You had answered a few times at the very beginning when John was dragging his feet about wanting to date you and be single due to his job. Once you realized you had fallen in love with John you stopped answering any phone call, email, or text. Ending with Hugh showing up at your door a week after John ended things with you and that was the last night you saw him. Choosing to ignore any form of communication after that in hopes to get yourself to stop going down the self destructive path you ended up on.

“Lets get Evie it’s time to go.” John gave Jj a reassuring look but wouldn’t look you in the eye.

——————

“John, please stop giving me the cold shoulder.” You were standing at the foot of your bed blocking your husbands view of the tv.

“I’m not.” John said simply with a shrug. Then grabbing his book off the nightstand so he could read since you were blocking the tv.

“John, what’s bugging you?” You asked knowing for a fact it had to be running into Hugh.

“Nothing.” John muttered in a clearly annoyed tone.

“Fine.” You sighed. Getting into bed you laid on your side with your back turned to your husband.

Since you ran into Hugh at the department store John had wanted little to do with you. Jj asked if you were fighting and John told him ‘no’ and then continued to keep his distance. It had been one word answers and a complete lack of eye contact. John sat outside for the majority of the evening smoking cigars.

John stared down at the book in his hands, not actually reading. His mind had been racing since the name Hugh came out of your mouth. John knew you had slept with Hugh once after you met John. It was when John told you he didn’t want anything serious and you should see other people; breaking your heart and leaving you devastated and lonely. You hadn’t done anything wrong but John was incredibly self conscious that you sought out male affection during your three month break up while he couldn’t get you out of his head.

John was incapable of looking at another woman sexually let alone romantically during that time and he never understood why you did what you did, but now it made sense. Hugh was leagues better looking than John thought he was and time seemed to not affect him as drastically as it did John. Insecurity and jealousy had found its way into John’s mind as he questioned if he was as attractive as you said he was.

The thing that continued to naw at John’s brain was how much older he looked standing next to you and your former lover. John didn’t feel inadequacy often but tonight he was plagued by it. Thoughts of you once in that man’s arms and how he looked at you, all these years later as if you had seen each other only a week ago. If John hadn’t been such a fool Hugh would have never found his way into your bed that last time.

“So you really only slept with him that once while we were broken up?” John asked the question before realizing he was speaking. John cringed as he watched you sit up rapidly giving him a shocked and clearly hurt expression. John wanted to take the question back as soon as he realized he was talking.

“You think I’d lie about something like that?” A pain clanged in your heart at your husbands question. After being married for as long as you were did he really have that little trust in you.

“No, I just. . . Don’t see why you continued to wait for me when he’s clearly a very attractive man.” John tried to reason as if his question was appropriate. You were even more offended that John was thinking you were that shallow.

“Well first off I wasn’t waiting for you like some lost puppy. I was trying to get over you because you ended things between us. Secondly, I was and continue to be in love with you. I chose to tell you what happened because full honesty is important to me. I didn’t tell you so you could question my loyalty years later.” The words came spilling out and you were far from nice as you practically hissed them at John; who was staring back at you as stoic as ever. Normally you could get a read on him but you had no clue what was going on in his head.

“I’m not questioning your loyalty or calling you a liar.” John rolled his eyes making your blood boil.

“Well it sure feels like it. Then what are you asking?” You snapped, face flushed with anger. You were embarrassed to even be talking about this. The only man you thought about in that way was your husband and you didn’t want to drag up that old humiliating memory. You were still mortified that you allowed your self respect to get that low and allow Hugh into your apartment that night let alone your body.

There was a long lapse of silence as you watched the gears turn in your husbands head. It was clear John was stewing over something else and going this roundabout way to get there. John tended to do this when he really had some strong or hurt feelings about something. It was as if he was incapable of just spitting it out and being straightforward about whatever was on his mind. Which you assumed was that he thought you might have cheated all those years ago. Only that wasn’t the case for John.

“Why me? Over him? He’s good looking enough, clearly smart since you met through uni, and isn’t in the god damn military. And he certainly doesn’t look as worn and aged as me.” John practically barked the words out at you. It was clear he was angry, you weren’t sure with who, as he told you what was on his mind.

“Wait.” You held you hand up and closed your eyes trying to gather your thoughts. This was not about John thinking you were unfaithful all those years ago. John actually though Hugh would have been a better romantic choice for you over him; and that stunned you.

“Why did I choose you over Hugh?” You asked again to make sure your ears weren’t deceiving you.

“Yeah. And be honest. I want the whole truth.” John said forcefully. He was holding his breath not sure if he actually wanted to hear the truthful answer. Maybe you had just settled for John because Hugh got the shag he wanted and then disappeared after. Maybe you were filled with regret and wondered what your life could have been.

“Because Hugh is a condescending, manipulative, asshole. Who never actually cared about me. He just wanted to control what I wore, who I was friends with and never once supported my career.” You took a deep breath before you spoke again. Laying the angry words to rest so you could really get John to listen to you. Taking John’s hand you turned so you were facing him and sitting criss cross, your eyes locked on his sad baby blues.

“I fell so hard and madly in love with you that day you took me to our first football match. I never stopped loving you even when you broke up with me. I loved you far longer than you did me and I don’t regret it for a second. When you ask why I didn’t end up with Hugh it’s simple. He wasn’t you. I’ve only ever wanted you, John.” You couldn’t help the emotion that came pouring out of you as you told your husband something you thought he already knew. Those times in your early relationship were always so uncertain yet you took the chance and loved him whole hearted. Even when he didn’t do the same for you.

“I love you, darling.” John sighed out the breath he was holding. Squeezing your hand and feeling the insecurity begin to wash away at you pouring your heart out for him. You were right. You had loved him far longer than he deserved and now he was questioning that all because he was self conscious of his greying hair.

“You’ve got me for life. And I want you to know I have yet to meet a man that is half as perfect for me as you.” Your honeysuckle words had John visibly relaxing. A small smile dusting across his lips.

“I’m sorry for questioning you. Just don’t know how you like sleeping with a prune like me.” John admitted. Finally able to tell you in his own way he was self conscious due to his appearance.

“Like? I love getting to have a sexy bear of a man like you all over me. Have you seen yourself naked?” You brought your fingers to your mouth and did a ‘chefs kiss’ so signify how delicious John was. John couldn’t help but laugh knowing you really did mean it.

“Facial hairs still not too much?” He asked.

“How could I have a mustache ride without it?” You flirted shamelessly. The ego boost you were giving your husband had something stirring awake in his sweatpants. You could see the confidence coming back to your husband so you pushed just a little bit more. Moving in closer you rested your chin on John’s toned and broad shoulders.

“Or maybe it’s your huge cock.” You whispered seductively into John’s ear.

“I am pretty lucky aren’t I?” John turned his pupils blown and all former insecurity forgotten.

“I think the same thing about myself.” You said smugly. Only a few centimeters separating the pair of you.

“You’re really going to feel the same when I’m a crotchety old man?” John asked sincerely getting a wicked smile form you in return.

“You’ll be my old man. I’ll love you until the day I die. Walker and all.” The sweet tone and honest nature of your words had John falling even more in love with you.

“Get over here.” John’s arm wrapped around your waist pulling you close. You took the opportunity to straddle his lap and wrap your arms around his neck. With splayed hands on your back you held each other in a tight embrace.

“Now, how about I show just how good looking you are.” You purred kissing down John’s bare neck.

“Oh really?” A gruff groan left John’s throat as you began to grind down on his stiffened length.

“Think you can keep up old man?” You teased. A squeal leaving you as John quickly flipped you over and pinned you to the mattress.

“Oh no, darling. I’m going to have my way with you until all you can say in my name.”

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

@exhaustedpotat0 @glitterypirateduck @ivymarquis @crazymela @what-0-life @boredfairy4 @hihhasotherfixations @stephanswhxre @shanjisan @k4es @luvleywrites @kita03-0 @midwesternwitchery @aleynaleia @suckerforbassist @misshoneypaper @theaonlax @blackstar9005 @tooterbutt @havoc973 @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @freshlemontea @cosmoscoffeee

[cythena]

SOUND, SMOKE, & SIN

MEET THE CAST OO ⋰ CHAP O1 ⋰ M. LIST

ꨄ︎ summary . you're the industry's most recent headliner. while fame was never your goal, you wouldn't say no this life. you've conquered arenas, broken records, and redefined music. you're something everyone wants a piece of. this chaotic life isn't just external. pulled between lust, loyalty, and legacy in the music industry, you navigate it all on your own. surrounded by a girl's dream roster, you don't even know where to start. but life's too short to rely on critical thinking.

warnings . no smut, language warning

word count . 1.8k

notes . this is me making my comeback. so for the meantime this is what i'm gonna focus on. i've never written a multi chapter fic before. also had no idea what a taglist was. i'll def do that if you guys want! anyways i want to say expect consistent updates. so expect consistent updates. consistently inconsistent. just while i get back into writing n stuff.

your eyes feel heavy as they flutter open. a sudden bump and your shoulders lift. you let out a soft groan as your head pulses. 

“holy fuck…” you mutter, dragging your hand up to rub at your temple. as your senses come into play, you tsk your tongue at the metallic taste and wipe drool from the corner of your lips. you also drag your palm underneath your eyes to clean – but only smear further – your mascara. the leather seat behind you is cold and unforgiving against your open back.

the smell of fruity cocktails and smoke lingers in your hair. it's gonna get in the seats, you think to yourself. the muffled hum of cars passing vibrates your ears. the occasional horn from a distance buzzes. 

your vision clears up last. you prop your head between the headrest and window to stare at him. the tinted windows filter out the sunlight so much you can't tell if it’s 3 am or pm. that buff man dressed in all black, his scarred lip quirked up in his typical scowl while his thick brows furrowed into a v. he spared you a glance from the road.

“rise ‘n shine,” he scoffs. 

you can barely register that he's speaking to you. in a daze, you adjust your posture. your limbs feel heavy like they’re moving through molasses. 

before you can respond, his sharp voice cuts through the air. “nanami called,” and you groan, your memories come back to you. you can predict what he’s upset about. 

“yeah. no way you're showing up to some event hammered.”

“m’not hammered. fuck, just tired.” you tilt your head up.

“yeah, and i’m celibate.”

“swear, i didn't drink that much. i had like- like two shots.” you hiss and lift up your index and middle in a v shape for emphasis. 

“this is the last time i’m leaving you alone. you can't handle your liquor, can't handle anything.” he faces away from you and his jaw flexes. his voice takes a serious tone as his eyes lock in on the road. “it was a fight to drag your ass outta there, scratched me up and everything.”

that sobered you up. “really?” your body tensed as you tried your best to recall a memory from last night.  

“no.”

toji lets out a hearty laugh at his down joke. his face settles into a confident smirk. the breath you unconsciously held released and you collapsed back into the seat. 

“dickhead.”

a comfortable silence settles between you for a moment. you take a sip of water that magically appeared in the cup holder before you. your throat was screaming for help before. 

you eventually decide to check your phone and see what toji was talking about. kento did call. and text. multiple times. 

you tapped his notification and the phone only rang for half a second. you couldn't even put it to your ear before- 

“red carpet event 8 pm. hair and makeup are scheduled to arrive at your apartment at 6 pm. i already had an intern deliver your dress into your living room. your ride will arrive at 7:15 exactly. do not be late…”

“how am i gonna be late at my own place?” you squeeze in.

“...and for the love of god, sober up.”

“i’m not drunk! what time is it even?” you sigh. “it's 9. i have so much time.”

kento continues rambling about your schedule and professionalism. you mute yourself and set your phone on your lap. 

“so what did happen?” you ask toji.

“you went to mei mei’s party last night at 12. alone–”

“i wasn't alone–”

“shiu doesn't count. told that fucker not to let you out late–”

“what am i, some kind of gremlin? oh, don’t feed past midnight,” you mock which gets a chuckle from him. 

he hushes you so he can continue. “anyways, you were at mei mei’s party without me. i had no clue you were out until you called me this morning. so honestly, i have no clue what happened.” he concluded with a shrug. 

you let out a small “oh” and faced forward. you could tell he was upset but toji was always upset. this time still seemed off, like he was genuinely concerned? is that the word? his eyebrow twitched, his muscles flexed unusually. he was angry with you.

you swallow hard, trying to stop the guilt from sinking and the words from rising. it comes out naturally. 

“i didn't mean to make you worry.”

he doesn't answer right away. the car slowly pulls into the parking lot of your apartment and he turns the car off. his arm settles on the armrest between you. 

“just don't do stupid shit.” he gestures to you. “you've got too much to lose. and you're basically my paycheck.” he jabs your shoulder. “anything happens to you, everything happens to my check.”

“oh boo!” you jeer and shoved at his arm. he finally opens the car door now the mood has lifted. 

he walks with you into the lobby where staff greet you, toji follows closely behind. he waits with you on the elevator and escorts you all the way to your penthouse.

“i’ll be back at 7:30. be ready to go,” he says before the doors to the elevator close and send him down.

you dump your phone on the couch, not even bothering to take a peek at the garment bag on your coffee table, and flop onto the cushions. sleep hits you like a truck. 

you're woken up by your phone ringing. you answer it, half-awake. “yeah…mhm…good, good…yeah let ‘em up.” you yawned as you stood up. your fingers combed through your hair, brushing it out of your face. you hurry to the kitchen sink to splash some water on your face. then you chug the rest of your starbucks bottled coffee from the fridge. 

the elevator dings and in come a trio carrying bags like a tactical unit. 

the lead makeup artist, – rosie, whom you're very familiar with, guides the others to the makeup station set up in another room. you'll join them in a minute. 

“it's nice to see you y/n,” she greets you when you do. 

“i've looked better,” you say dryly.

rosie chuckles softly while the others prep the station. “that's what we’re here for. rough night?” 

you take a seat in front of her. she starts spritzing your skin with some fancy water and a million other skin prep products you couldn't name to save your life. “you could say that. they're new.” you refer to the new girl and boy accompanying rosie. 

“diego and amanda. they're skilled, don't worry.” you quickly wave to each other so they can continue working. diego sets up a clothing rack in the living room out of your sight. amanda preps curling irons and lines up bottles of hairspray.

“your skin is perfect,” rosie comments to herself as she examines your face under the lights. “your pores are going to thank me someday.”

“i think they're still drunk,” you murmur. 

“no eye bags. after a night like yours? oh lucky you.” she tugs at the skin around your eye before rubbing eye cream underneath it. 

diego walks back into the room. "dress is gorgeous, by the way."

"i haven't even seen it. what's it like?"

"well, kinda old hollywood but still really modern. super...you!"

"me?" you question and diego nods again.

"it's steamed and ready for whenever you're done. anything else i can do, rosie?"

your makeup artist seemed concentrated on concealer placements to highlight your face. she juts her chin towards amanda. her focus shifts back to you. she reaches for setting powder and dabs it underneath your eyes and on your nose. then she presses some into your forehead and chin.

amanda starts on your hair from behind, sectioning it into parts and spraying some heat protectant. while she curls, rosie continues swiping nudes onto your eyelids and swooping dramatic eyeliner wings.

somewhere towards the end, diego vanishes off into again. you don't notice he's returned until the cloud of hairspray and setting spray disperse and your dress is in full view.

diego holds a floor length, satin gown colored a rich merlot. it hangs by two thin straps on a sweetheart neckline. the silhouette features a corset-bodice and asymmetrical draping across the waist. but what really catches your attention, is the dangerously high slit riding up the side of the dress.

the elevator dings by the time you finish slipping your heels on. toji finds his way to the room you're in.

"you're early," you say as you balance yourself.

"traffic was easy." he leans against the door frame with crossed arms. he switched his usual black compression tee and jeans for a tailored suit with the collar just loose enough. you adjust his tie for him like always. his hair is slicked back too, away from his now wandering eyes. "and, i had to make sure you didn't disappear on me again."

"you're never gonna let that go?"

"nope."

rosie tilts your chin and inspects your face like a painting she's completed. she pats your cheek and sends you off. "beautiful. have fun. here, it's stocked." she hands you your purse full of any products you may need for touch ups on the go.

for someone who refuses to pamper you, he's real strict on not letting you do anything for yourself at your events. even before the public's eye. he won't let you push the elevator button, open the car door, or even buckle your seatbelt.

you both sit in the backseat on a black suv. toji takes the seat behind the driver, this way you step right onto the red carpet when you arrive. you take your phone out to doomscroll until you eventually reach the venue. while tapping away, you take a glance at toji.

"what?" you side eye him.

"you look good, that's all." he smirks. "might have me working extra hard tonight."

you narrow your eyes at him before scoffing. "as long as you don't start another fight."

"no promises. i take my job very seriously."

the familiar sounds of cheers and camera shutters near. the blocked off street serves as another sign of your approaching arrival. you review your appearance once more before putting your mirror back in your clutch. your driver pulls to a stop in front of the hotel. the white flashes of the camera barely seep through the windows.

toji steps out and walks across the front of the car to your side. seeing him alone cause a huge roar in the crowd. he opens your door and offers his hand for you to take. two additional event staff work to keep the crowd back while toji assumes his usual position behind you.

"for the record,” he murmurs near your ear, “if anyone so much as looks at you wrong tonight, i'm not holding back.”

he escorts you down the red carpet into the charity event hosted by none other than hollywood's golden boy.

CHAP O2

taglist: @poopooindamouf @noooo-onee

[httpiastri]

first of all CONGRATS ON 3K!! 💗😫 I've loved your Pepe work and I'm so checking out your other works 😭💗

saw the 3k celly and I couldn't resist myself 👉👈

how do we feel about a small Pepe blurb with the touch starved prompt: "one just casually sitting down on the other's lap and they start internally freaking the hell out" ??

furthermore,, could it be the reader being the one that is touch starved and Pepe just casually grabs em and sits them on his lap and is the reader the one freaking out?? 🤭

🍈 – send me a driver and a prompt from this list of hugging prompts, these touch starved prompts, or these kiss prompts, and i will write a short blurb for you!!

author's note: thank you so much!! and im glad you like them aaa 🥺 i loved this idea !!!! but lol i thought a blurb was 500 words, not 100-200. still doesnt explain why this is 1.2k. 😶 i had time over on my flight so this (and the paul "blurb" ive got scheduled for later) was the result. hope u enjoy :)

3k celly !!

(college!)pepe marti x reader

there are a lot of fun ways to spend a free saturday evening.

but being squeezed into a room with a bunch of drunk students, with music so loud you can barely think? not one of them.

you had been about to refuse your friend's suggestion to tag along, as you always do, before she had uttered the magic words. pepe will be there.

you were already planning outfits in your mind when the words left her mouth, suddenly feeling like no piece of clothing you own is enough to impress him. how could any piece of clothing ever be good enough for someone like him?

disappointment, though no surprise, fills you when your friend leaves you the second you enter the apartment of some guy in her physics class, to search for that other guy she's been crushing on for weeks now. so, here you are, in the living room belonging to some student you don't know, being pushed around by students you also don't know, with some song that you've never heard blasting from the speakers.

thankfully, even in a crowded apartment like this one, it isn't hard to find pepe. the sound of his sweet, intoxicating laughter can be heard from miles away.

he's sitting on a couch in the corner of the room, red solo cup in one hand and phone in the other. he's showing something on his phone to his best friend christian who's sitting next to him, his giggles sending a wave of relief through your body.

pepe's eyes light up when they meet yours, a sliver of surprise in his smile as you make your way over to him. he says your name like it's what he was made to do, like no other words have ever fallen from his lips. "i almost didn't believe your friend when she told me you'd join her tonight," he tells you. "i'm surprised."

"i'm full of surprises," you answer, tilting your head to the side slightly.

"of course you are. like that dress, very surprising." that statement isn't very surprising in itself; your friend, ever the fashionista, noticed your stress over your choice of outfit for the night instantly, lending you one of her favorite dresses with the words you'll look adorable, he won't be able to stay away. but the fact that pepe has noticed you enough to at least in some way collect an idea of the types of clothes you would and wouldn't wear is surprising to send a shiver down your spine. "you look great."

you can't control the redness that threatens to spread across your cheeks at that, but your gaze shifts to the ground to at least lessen some of your flusteredness. pepe doesn't miss the gentle smile that makes its way onto your lips, though. christian understands this as his cue to leave, jumping out of his seat and bolting away in just a second. pepe taps the now free spot on the couch, and you slip down next to him without another thought.

"did you get to the kitchen already?" he asks, gaze burning into the side of your face as you pretend like fixing the hem of your dress is something you actually need to do and not just a way to occupy yourself. "or do you want me to go get you something to drink?"

you shake your head, eyes flickering over to him again. "i'm alright for now, but thank you."

he nods over his cup, bringing it up to his lips to take a sip. the action has the muscles of his arm contracting and… has he always been this muscular, or is it just the light of the apartment? either way, he makes it look so casual – he probably doesn't know he's the object of your current mental assessment – as if the feeling of his jeans against your bare knee isn't distracting enough. "i'm glad you came," he says after he's lowered the cup. "the party was bound to be boring without you."

there it is again; that relief you felt earlier. a sliver of a confirmation that this thing that's been going on between you two these last few weeks isn't just one-sided. unless he's just toying with you, as you've heard certain men like to do, which doesn't exactly help soothe your worries.

but pepe isn't like that, you have to remind yourself. that's one of the reasons you fell for him in the first place; he's gentle in a way you can't credit a lot of men to being, like a mild breeze instead of a full-blown storm.

someone turns the music up even more, something you would've assumed was impossible a minute ago, as if to say you're thinking too much. fewer thoughts, please.

you take a deep breath, eyes meeting his. "i'm glad you're here, too."

"what?"

you let out a short laugh at the way his face contorts as he tries to hear what you're saying over the loud music. "i said," you start, voice growing louder. "i'm glad you're here, too."

pepe nods, though you're not sure if he actually understood or if he's just faking it, before saying something you have no chance of catching. you raise your eyebrows, tilting your head slightly and jokingly bringing a hand up to the back of your ear to hear him better. you did not expect him to lean forward, nor the warm huff of air that meets your ear when he speaks into it. "it's a little too loud, isn't it?"

you nod when he leans back to look at you, the corners of your lips tugging upward at the sight of his own smile. you shrug, trying to figure out a way to solve the issue; you came here to talk to him, not to just sit next to him all quietly because you can't hear each other. you gaze around the apartment, only to find a pair of speakers placed in about every corner of it, which brings back that disappointing feeling from when your friend left you just minutes ago.

but pepe has other plans. before you can interject, his hands find your hips and lift you up to straddle his thighs sideways. it's a swift motion, and he makes it seem like you weigh about five grams, leaving you pretty completely speechless. "i figured we'd hear each other better like this," he says, one hand reaching over to grab his cup again from where he must've placed it on a table nearby just moments ago, while his other hand stays planted on your hip. when you don't say anything, his eyes rake over your face, a hint of guilt in his expression. "sorry, is this okay?"

you take a deep breath, pushing the butterflies in your stomach away for just a moment and gathering the courage to nod. "yeah," you say, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "i just… wasn't expecting that."

the chuckle he lets out vibrates through your body, too. "well, get used to it." that damn smile of his appears again, the one you just can't stop yourself from mimicking. "i like having you close."

as his hand slips past your hip and around your waist, you allow yourself to lean into him a little, impressed by the way you find yourself enjoying your new seat very much.

impressed by the way it feels like this seat was made just for you.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Why You So Obsessed with Me? p5

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this Carlos x reader based on the song: Obsessed– Mariah Carey, if you haven't read part 4 here it is:)

If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your earrings for the third time.

Your outfit was a little too dressy, maybe. The heels might’ve been overkill. But this was Carlos Sainz we were talking about — international F1 star, wealthy, charming, intense… and lately, strangely sweet. You figured he’d take you somewhere luxurious. Probably a rooftop with candlelight and an overpriced wine list. Maybe a place where they didn’t even have a menu because the chef just knew your soul.

So yeah, you dressed accordingly.

And when his car pulled up outside, sleek and humming like the man himself, you took one final deep breath, slipped on your coat, and walked out.

He stepped out of the driver’s side just as you closed your door. “Hola, preciosa.”

(Hey, beautiful)

That voice still made your stomach flutter. You hated that it did.

“You look… wow,” he added, his eyes traveling over your outfit with a smirk that was far too smug to be legal.

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the way your cheeks warmed. “You better be taking me somewhere worth all this effort.”

He only grinned. “Oh, I am.”

You slid into the passenger seat. “You’re being cryptic again.”

“And you like it.”

You did. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you definitely did.

But then…

You blinked as Carlos pulled up in front of… a burger joint?

Slightly rustic. Casual. Cozy. A little out of place for him. Even more for this outfit.

You turned to him, brows raised. “Is this… dinner?”

He nodded and stepped out of the car with an annoyingly mysterious smile. You followed, heels clicking dramatically on the sidewalk.

“Okay, Sainz, what’s the catch?”

He held the door open for you. “No catch. Just burgers.”

You stepped inside, scanning the warm interior — wooden booths, checkered floors, the scent of sizzling meat and toasted bread in the air. It smelled amazing, but still…

“I was expecting something a little more…” you gestured to your outfit, “…Gatsby.”

Carlos chuckled, guiding you inside. “Would Gatsby grill you the best burger of your life?”

You stared at him. “You’re grilling?”

He threw you a wink and headed behind the counter. “I own this place.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait, seriously?”

He shrugged like it was no big deal, pulling on an apron and tying it behind his back — somehow managing to still look hot while doing so. “Yeah. Started it with my cousin a few years ago. Not a lot of people know. It’s kind of… mine.”

You leaned on the counter, amused. “So… F1 driver and chef?”

“F1 driver who can make a mean cheeseburger,” he corrected, already flipping patties like he was born behind the grill. “Don’t underestimate me.”

“I never do.”

You didn’t mean to laugh that much. Truly, it wasn’t intentional. But somewhere between Carlos putting on that ridiculous apron with “Grill Master” written in bold red letters, and him yelling “¡Ay, mierda!” when he burned his thumb flipping your burger, you were already cracking.

(Ah, shit)

“You okay, Chef Sainz?” you teased, biting into the juiciest, most delicious burger you’d ever tasted.

“Better than okay,” he said, flexing his injured hand with an exaggerated wince. “You’re eating the masterpiece. I’d suffer burns for that satisfaction.”

You shook your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

He leaned in closer from across the booth, resting his chin on his hand. “But admit it. I’m growing on you.”

You didn’t answer immediately. Because… yeah. He kind of was.

Carlos had this way of being too much, and somehow… just right.

You ate in a booth by the window, the two of you laughing more than you had in months. He told you about his family — his mother’s obsession with order, his father’s constant but well-meaning pressure, how his sister still scolded him like he was ten. You could see it in his face every time he spoke of them. There was this affection in him, this loyalty — fierce and genuine.

“So,” you said, sipping from your milkshake, “is this your way of lowering my guard?”

He leaned in, elbows on the table, smirk playful but eyes warm. “Is it working?”

You smiled, and didn’t answer.

But yes… it kind of was.

He flirted, but never crossed a line. His comments were smooth, but never crude.

Like when you said, “You don’t seem like the type to enjoy quiet nights like this,” and he replied, “I’m starting to think I enjoy whatever you’re doing.”

You rolled your eyes, but you smiled too.

He noticed.

And when the night ended and he drove you home, the silence between you wasn’t awkward — it was warm. Familiar. Like the comfortable quiet that only happens when someone’s starting to mean something.

When he parked outside your building, you unbuckled your seatbelt slowly. “Thanks for dinner.”

He turned toward you. His eyes softened. “Thanks for coming.”

You got out of the car, expecting a casual goodbye. But Carlos followed. Walked you to your door.

And when you turned to say something — anything — he leaned down, slow and intentional, and pressed a kiss to your lips.

Just one kiss. Not hungry. Not rushed. But it left your knees unsteady, your breath shallow.

When he pulled back, he looked at you like he’d waited forever to do that.

“Buenas noches, preciosa,” he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Sleep well.”

(Good night, beautiful)

And just like that, he turned and left. No invitation inside. No cocky follow-up. Just that look, that kiss, and the soft echo of your heartbeat thudding in your ears.

You stood at the door for a long moment after he disappeared. One hand on your lips.

God, you hated to admit it… But you were starting to want more.

Carlos’ POV

She tasted like strawberry gloss and defiance. And he knew the second he pulled back — the second her breath caught just slightly — that he had her attention now.

Not the kind he used to chase. Not the loud, defensive kind. No. This was quiet. Curious. Open.

And it meant more than any trophy on his shelf.

He didn’t ask to come in because he didn’t need to. He was done forcing what was always meant to happen on its own. The girl who once rolled her eyes at his obsession now looked like she was struggling to steady her breathing because of a single kiss.

He got in the car with a smile tugging at his lips.

It wasn’t about winning anymore.

It was about waiting. Because she was finally looking at him like he wasn’t just obsessed.

But maybe… just maybe… she was starting to be, too.

Next part

@sumbellling, @hhhs7, @omgsuperstarg, @as4ka

[pretty-circa006]

Unhealthy Attachments pt. 5

Missing Him

◀︎previous part

Coach! Negan x Student! F! Reader

summary Negan's indecisiveness is starting to take a toll on you tags more angst

wc 1.5k

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ 

 Every day since that afternoon in the church has been hell. Your dreams were so close to coming true. He said he wanted to make things work and treated you more affectionately than ever before, but quickly changed his mind not even an hour later. You felt your hope and happiness drain from within you, leaving you to be that empty shell you were before that day in his office. 

 You sat at the kitchen table, nibbling on some cereal. Your stomach was in far too many knots for food to be enjoyable. Thoughts of Negan plagued your mind no matter what you did. You heard someone walk into the kitchen, but you didn't bother looking up from your soggy cereal. 

"Honey," you mom said softly. You glanced up at her awaiting her next words. 

"Could you run down to the store and get a few things for the church picnic tomorrow?" she handed you the grocery list on a folded sheet of paper before you could even answer. You groaned internally, mainly because you didn't want to go to the store, but because you had forgotten all about the church picnic. You grumbled to yourself as you cleaned up your breakfast and trudged up to your room to get dressed. You were so dejected that you couldn't bring yourself to care about your puffy eyes and overall disheveled appearance. 

...

"You look like shit," you heard a voice say as you were looking at the expiration date on a carton of milk. You already knew who it was without having to look. It was Negan. Only he would break your heart then laugh about the aftereffects. 

"Feel like it too," you replied without looking at him. You couldn't, even though you desired to see his handsome face once again. You were sure you'd start bawling about what could have been. He'd have to be blind to not notice how heartbroken you were. You were wearing your heart on the sleeve of that tattered t-shirt you wore. He knew what it would take to brighten you back up again, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. It'd be wrong no matter how he tried to spin it. The best thing he could do for you, was let you go. 

"Have a blessed day, Coach," you muttered sardonically before continuing your shopping. He sighed despondently before calling out your name, catching your attention. 

"What do you want, Negan!" you asked, tears burning in your eyes. You did not want to cry in front of the man again and he didn't want to be the reason you cried, not again. 

"Not pursuing this," he said motioning to him and you, "is what is best for you. I am not doing this to hurt you, and you know that." 

"That's not for you to decide! I am an adult who can make her own decisions and I want us to work," you argued, a lump forming in your throat making your next words difficult. You didn't know when you and him became an us, but calling it anything else would've been a lie and you both knew it. "Every minute away from you has been painful a-and I really miss you." The tears were falling now and you couldn't bear to look at the older man. You breathed shakily as you used your sleeves to wipe your tears as they left your eyes. Negan's hand clasped around your wrist, simultaneously pulling you closer to him and your arms away from your face. He held your face in his hands and swept your tears sway with his thumb. Negan's touch was comforting, but you didn't dare let your guard down around him. You couldn't handle him leaving again. 

"Doll, I-"

"If you're n-not gonna be serious about me, just let me go," you whispered, cutting him off. He looked at you with too many emotions swirling in his hazel eyes, rejection burning on the tip of his tongue. As if it were like you could feel it, you pulled away from him and stormed off, leaving him in the dust as you continued your shopping.

...

 The day of the church picnic arrived faster than you anticipated. After welcoming everyone to the picnic, you excused yourself and set up your own picnic blanket in an isolated area. You needed some alone time. Your mind was still reeling from that encounter you had with Negan the other day. Nauseous. That's how you felt. You were sick that you let Negan consume your thoughts like this. You cried about him before spring break, during spring break, and probably will after spring break. You hugged yourself as you bit back tears, grateful that you were far enough away from the others so they couldn't see. 

"There you are. Been lookin' for ya all over the goddamn place." Your head snapped in the direction of Negan's voice, your eyes meeting his as he stood over you, holding a plate. 

"Wha-? What are you doing here?" you asked, scooting up into a sitting position. He pulled out a pamphlet that was advertising the church's picnic and tossed it to you. 

"I wanted to come talk to ya since you wouldn't listen to me at the store," he explained. You stubbornly turned away from him, crossing your arms. You felt him sit beside you on your picnic blanket, but you still refused to face him. He slid the plate toward you, on it was a hotdog and some potato chips. 

" 'M not hungry," you lied, pushing the plate back to him. 

"Are you gonna fuckin' listen to me or should I just leave? Because I did not come all this way for your stubborn ass to ignore me." He was getting frustrated, which was obvious by the way he raised his voice, but he immediately regretted it when he heard you whimper and saw your shoulders shake. 

"W-what do you wanna say?" you choked out. Tears silently flowed down your face as you sniffled, choking back your sobs. 

"I shouldn't have kept leading you on like that, especially since you're so goddamn sensitive. So, I came to let you know that I'm done with that. I wanna make you happy, doll, I wanna spend time with you," he admitted. Your eyes widened. You didn't know of this was a dream or not. But when you felt his thumb swipe away your tears, you knew it was real. You tackled him into a hug, causing him to collide with the ground, taking you with him. 

"You better be a hundred percent sure this time," you mumbled into his chest. His arms wrapped around you, hugging you close. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at being in such an intimate position with him. He's hugged you before, but never like this. Instead of a teacher pitying his student, he was hugging you because he wanted to, not because he thought you needed it. The intimacy flustered him too. Feeling you on top of him was igniting every feeling he worked so hard to bury. But he was getting tired of burying those feelings. He saw the way his resistance was hurting you and seeing you hurt hurt him. 

"I am. I promise," he whispered into your ear. You held him tighter, not wanting to let him go, and it seemed like he didn't want to let you go either. But you were actually hungry, so you sat up and began eating the hotdog he got you. 

"Does this mean we can spend time together...outside of school?" you asked, batting the lashes of your doe eyes at him. 

"Of course, doll." The nickname, along with his promise of companionship, caused heat to blossom upon your face.  From a distance, you heard your father shouting your name. You looked at Negan longingly, not wanting to leave his side for fear he'd disappear, but he nodded his head toward your parents, giving you the go ahead and a silent promise that he'll still be here.

"Yes, dad?" you asked after trudging your way through the grass over to him and your mom.

"Ah, there he is!" he said, looking past you and at Negan who you didn't know followed you. You looked at Negan, confused, but he just smirked at you.

"Mr. Smith, my wife and I just wanted to thank you for bringing our daughter home last Friday," your father said gratefully. 

"Oh yes, our daughter talks highly of you. Says you make school that much better for her," your mom chimed in. 

"It's no problem," Negan replied. 

"Why don't you pop on by for dinner tonight? We'd love to show you our appreciation." Your face was flaming at the possibility of Negan being in your house. Butterflies flapped around furiously in your tummy at the thought of him seeing your bedroom. He must've noticed how antsy you were, because he smirked at you before he quickly accepted the offer. 

"That is very kind of you all. I'll be there." 

next part ▶︎

[temptress-writes]

📺 Sugar

A/N: Welcome to The Tonight Show with Harry Styles. The year is 1964, and you are his assistant. He's a bit of a shit. So this is a fun one.

C.W: sexual content: kinda rough— choking, spanking, degradation, slapping, spitting, squirting.

18+ ONLY.

***

New York City, 1964.

"Red leather, yellow leather, red leather, yellow leather."

The bright lights heated him even from behind the curtain. A warmth that coasted alongside his adrenaline. He struggled to keep his body cool underneath his designer sweater, felt his feet tapping restlessly in his leather oxfords.

This was his favourite part.

The cheers, the introduction, the attention.

You ran the lint roller over his shoulders as he sipped steaming tea from a paper cup. You made sure the collar of his plaid shirt was straight as it peeked out from his red sweater.

Another sip of steaming tea, another tongue twister.

"She sells..." You coached.

He took in a deep breath, watching you as you made sure he appeared perfect, rearranging the groomed curls on his head. Your green dress stood brightly against the black of the stage, the white cuffs of it framing your wrists as you fussed over his hair.

"She sells seashells by the seashore."

"One minute till curtain!" The stage manager yelled as he breezed by. "How're you feeling, Mr. Styles?"

"Like a million bucks, Sal!"

"That's the spirit!" Sal chuckled, running towards the side of the stage, probably chasing after an intern who wasn't doing their job properly.

"Remember, you're meeting your parents for dinner after this." You reminded, ticking off the mental to-do list that was really his. It was clogging your mind but after all, it was your job.

"I haven't forgotten." He rolled his eyes. Yes, you were his assistant, but he found you controlling at times and he had little patience for women who tried to control him. He preferred to be the one in charge.

"But you'll still find a way to be late, anyway." You stepped back with a huff. He really did make your job a living hell.

"I'm taking a refreshment in my dressing room after the show."

You scrunched up your face in disgust. Refreshment. You hated that you knew it was code for a visit from a desperate groupie. You remember when he told you how he chose which girl he liked the best. You'd been watching the audience file in and he appeared behind you, chewing gum with a confident pop of his jaw.

"Let me scope it out."

"Why?"

"Like to see who's gonna join me for a post-show soirée. See those girls?" He pointed to a group of overdressed girls, all giggling and excited for the show to start. "Bingo."

"How do you know which one to pick?"

He shot you a look, clicking his tongue. "The tits, sugar. I always pick the girl with the biggest tits."

"Ugh." You rolled your eyes. "You're disgusting."

"I'm just messin'," He tilted his head. "I'm an ass man, too."

You shuddered at the recollection.

"Yes, Mr. Styles." Your voice was laced with a seething sarcasm that he raised a brow at.

He didn't seem to conceptualise that you talked that way because that's how he talked to you. He couldn't see past his blinding, misogynistic ego.

You were purely volleying it right back at him. In hindsight, it wasn't the smartest move because you really needed this job and he had a tendency to fire staff with a snap of his jeweled fingers. He'd made the past six months hard on you and he really made your blood boil.

Who knew becoming Harry Styles' assistant would be akin to babysitting a grumpy toddler?

The Tonight Show with Harry Styles.

Hilarious with guests, a major flirt, and entertaining — even when reading out news segments.

He was well-loved by everyone. For his fun fashion statements, for his guests, his charm, his whole fantasy world on his show. Worldwide, he was adored as the most entertaining and handsome talk show host.

But you knew what happened behind the scenes.

Poised and perfect on camera, but as soon as the director called cut, you had trouble convincing yourself it wasn't a joke. People of the television world had a different sort of ego and you struggled to breathe among it all. Harry hated mingling with guests before and after the show more than he had to, he hated when the crew bothered him, he hated being approached by fans for autographs because he had a headache — or whatever excuse he was offering that day.

Don't get it twisted — he loved the attention he got from being so famous. You were surprised his head wasn't bigger. The one thing he loved most about being so popular was the fact that he could have anyone on his knees for him, be between their legs, and have them at their disposal. And he treated them like that was their only use.

The charming and cheerful Harry Styles.

Purely a falsity of a man.

The crew fled from the stage as the band started playing the introduction theme music and you swept the cup from his hand. You replaced it with two certs breath mints that he chewed on routinely.

"Wish me good luck." He demanded as you gave him a once over.

You beamed. "Break a leg."

"Thanks, sugar."

"No, like trip and fall."

His smile dropped into an unamused glare. "Oh, bite me."

The music ensued, getting louder with an abundant cheer from the live crowd, the curtain preparing to lift to reveal him. You rushed off stage, your Mary Janes clicking on the floor before nodding to Sal who gave you two thumbs up.

"Filmed before a live studio audience..."

"...All the way from Holmes Chapel, Cheshire..."

Harry took a deep breath, already bathing in the adoration he garnered from simply existing.

"...Give it up for your host, the one, the only..."

You rolled your eyes as he mouthed along with the words as they were spoken.

"...Mr. Harry Styles!"

The curtain parted and he stepped forward, his hands waving to the crowd before clasping them together as he took a small bow. He blew kisses, thanking them for coming and welcoming them. He egged on the drummer of the band while the crowd cheered for him.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!"

More cheers that he absolutely cherished and bathed in, letting them fuel his ego.

"We've got a great show for you tonight, we have special guests The Everly Brothers joining us!"

Your job while Harry was doing his magic spiel on stage was to check in with him during commercial breaks, smooth his hair, offer him mints, refill his water. Also to make sure everything was perfect for him when he wrapped up. He was extremely demanding, and while you were warned of that when you first took the job, you were still so surprised just how needy he was.

He liked ham and tomato sandwiches exactly fifteen minutes before he was put into his hair and makeup chair. He liked a cup of hot tea right before air time, alongside a few tongue twisters. He went through packets of Certs breath mints faster than you thought humanly possible. He also wanted a cup of black coffee waiting for him directly after he got off stage.

He didn't like to talk to anyone on his way to his dressing room unless it was Sal congratulating him and inflaming his already huge ego. Or security telling him about a waiting groupie in his dressing room. Or you, running over his schedule or helping him memorise his script. Well, he didn't like talking to you. He more or less answered in grunts or irritated comments.

As Harry settled in for his show post the joke segment, you ran around backstage. Ordering his coffee and one for yourself because you couldn't keep up with his demands without your own shot of caffeine. You were due within minutes to refresh him during the breed.

It really was an exciting job, aside from being a woman in a man's world. You were treated as such but you were lucky enough to be given the job in the first place. At first, you were nervous around Harry. It took him a second to warm up to you.

The first time you met was when he found you in his dressing room before a show, bent over the vanity as you watered his flowers. He thought you were there for a completely different reason and had quickly started to unbuckle his belt.

"Alright, let's make this quick."

You then spotted him in the mirror and turned with a gasp. "What are you-"

And before it could have got any more awkward, before Harry could even fully unbuckle his belt, Sal stormed in with a shocked laugh.

"Oh!" His amused gaze flickered between the two of you. "Harry, I see you've met your new assistant."

"I don't need an assistant, Sal. We've been through this. Why do you think I got rid of the last one?"

"Well, of course, you do! She's just here to help you perform at your best, Styles. Try not to scare this one off."

And while he'd probably never admit it to you, you actually were very helpful to have around. Once you'd stopped being so awkward and nervous and jittery around him, you found a dynamic that worked. One where he could be a condescending male and you could be just as snappy right back to him.

Past assistants had stuck to him like a bad smell and only irritated him. You did what was expected of you. Nothing more, nothing less. You kept your little purse stocked with certs breath mints, lint rollers and kept that fact that he fucked fans in his dressing rooms after and sometimes before shows quiet.

But after all, everyone was well aware. They even congratulated him on his sexual success. Nothing grossed you out more.

Aside from Harry being a mildly misogynistic, cocky, well-dressed thorn in your side, you loved your job. You met exciting guests whom you only dreamed of meeting. Stars you had posters of in your apartment, musicians whose vinyls you span on your turntable.

In your first week on the job, you met Santo and Johnny. They'd just finished a performance of Sugar Song and they flirted with you until you were a blushing mess.

Harry had watched the interaction, grumbling about professionalism and waiting for them to leave so he could torment you about it.

"Got the hots do ya, little sugar?"

"Kiss off, Styles."

That was the most colourful thing you'd ever said to him. The shock of it raised his brows and sent a singeing pang of arousal directly to his crotch.

There was a part of Harry that wanted to hate you. Because you were a woman bossing him around and because you got on his nerves. But the more rational part of him knew he could never hate you. You were too helpful and he'd be lying if he said you weren't one of the prettiest girls he'd ever seen. And he'd seen a lot of girls.

But he knew you were disgusted by his habits, how he slept with so many people. In his own sick way, he used it to his advantage, to keep you at arm's length. That and endless comments he knew would rile you up. And boy, did he rile you up. He'd finessed the art of it.

The show ran smoothly tonight, but by no means were you any less busy. You raced around with your clipboard tucked under your arm and two cups of coffee in either hand. You sipped on yours, grateful for the kick it gave. Harry was saying his goodnight to the crowd, his cup steaming in your left hand as you rushed to meet him.

"Thank you for spending the night with me, New York!"

His classic closing catchphrase. Cheeky and risky, but it was him and he got away with everything.

Thunderous applause overpowered the sound of your heels clicking as you turned a corner, beelining towards the stage exit. You were late. He'd be off stage by now, demanding things and barking orders like the diva he was.

As if you weren't going to hear an earful from him as it was, an intern bumped into you. The crash caused your two cups of coffee to spill all down the front of your dress. You barely noticed the burn.

"Seriously?" You seethed, holding your now empty cups out in exasperation.

"I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching-"

"You don't say."

You could hear Harry asking where you were and you groaned, absolutely vexed. You turned in the exact opposite direction of him and back to grab more coffee. You knew he'd especially need it tonight if he was meeting with his parents.

"What happened to you?" Sal guffawed and you rolled your eyes.

"If you see Harry, tell him that his coffee is coming."

"Bit hard getting it to him when you're wearing it."

"Not funny."

A few minutes later, you held a single coffee cup. Steaming, black. You wrapped both your hands around it, holding it steady and keeping far away from anyone who could bump you. Your dress had seen better days and the stain was obvious and uncomfortably wet.

You found your way back to his dressing room, where he'd no doubt holed himself up in to freshen up. You knocked, hoping he was alone and waiting for you before continuing on with his post-show... rituals.

"Come in!" You heard from the other side and you slipped inside quickly.

"So sorry, Mr. Styles, I had an accid- oh, my god!"

You took in the scene before you. Harry. With a girl on his knees in front of him. His jeweled fingers clenching a fistful of the girl's hair as she sucked him off. His brows were turned down in the middle but his eyes... his eyes were on you. And he was enjoying it. Enjoying the girl, and enjoying you watching.

"Alright, sugar?"

"I-" You didn't know what to say, and the girl didn't stop. You didn't know if that was her doing or if Harry was holding her down. You turned, and idiotically turned back around, taking the few steps towards him, and handed him his cup of coffee. You didn't meet his eyes, like a bumbling idiot.

You left the room, but not before hearing Harry take a hefty sip of his coffee and letting out a soft moan, "Oh, that's so good."

Vexed by his antics, and the fact that he made it his mission to throw you off like that, you signed out and went home. It was as vulnerable as you'd ever seen him and you felt an odd sense of jealously wash over you. Maybe you were jealous of past you, because she hadn't witnessed it. Or maybe there was a bit of jealousy there because you wanted to be the one on your knees for him.

As delightful as the thought was for a margin of a second, you felt ill knowing you'd be another Harry Styles groupie. And it would make your job more difficult which you didn't think was even possible.

But you couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the night. His blissful expression, the way he directed it at you as opposed to the mouth wrapped around him. He had told you to enter his dressing room so that you could see it.

The next night, you planned on fully avoiding him and pretending the whole thing never happened. Which was hard considering, you know, you were to follow him around and listen to his demands. And especially hard because you just wished he'd command you onto your knees already.

Sure, you found him extremely attractive — everyone did. You may have even had a little crush when you first met him. But then you got to know him, and his habits and his ways. Last night grossed you out just as much as it turned you on. You felt so thrown off and now you weren't sure how to act around him.

You arrived at the studio not too long before showtime, Harry's cup of tea in hand. You were a little bit late today but you figured he could survive fifteen minutes without you. He was in hair and wardrobe, getting his curls perfected and his forehead powered.

He sat in the chair with his legs spread, a pair of black dress pants and a white singlet, his inked arms on display. You focused on staying professional and met his eyes for a brief moment as you greeted him and handed him his cup of tea. No milk, and don't be shy with the honey, he'd told you when you first started.

His eyes scanned your attire, a pink dress with long sleeves but a shorter hem than usual, he noticed. He didn't hate having to look at your legs, your plump thighs, and the intrigue of what was between them ran rampant in his thoughts.

You had a soft yellow ribbon in your hair, keeping it swept away from your face in a high ponytail. He clenched his jaw, wishing it was his hand fisting your hair. He'd tie your hands up with the ribbon so you'd have to behave for him.

"Thanks. Dig pink on ya." He took a sip, his eyes full with mischief as he watched you over the rim of his cup. "Enjoy the show last night?"

You knew he was referring to you seeing him get blown by some random groupie so you ignored him, looking at your clipboard. "So Sal wants to see you in five, and we're reconfiguring some set pieces before airtime. So be on stage straight after you've seen him, okay?"

The hairstylist finished up, and you were left alone with him in the room. You were a lot stiffer tonight, more reserved than usual and he picked up on it right away. You raised a brow, wondering if he'd heard a single word you said.

He smirked. "Why did you come in last night? You know I have post-show celebrations in my dressing room."

"I was bringing you coffee! You told me to come in!" This man was exasperating. He knew that he'd asked you for coffee and told you to enter his dressing room after you'd knocked. He wanted you to see and now he was just winding you up.

He raised a brow. "Did I?"

"Five minutes." You reaffirmed. You tried to hide the way that his tone crept down your spine in slow, hot trickles.

He sat up in the chair, his hand reaching to cup the back of your lower thigh. You stopped breathing at the sudden touch and he pulled you towards him. His gaze was searing on yours, his eyes wondering and daring.

"You wanted to stay, didn't you? Watch me get my dick sucked while I watched you."

"No, I didn't." You whispered, letting him pull you forward until you were standing between his spread legs.

"No?"

"No." Even you weren't convinced by your answer.

"Hmm... you wanted to be the one on your knees for me. Is that it?"

You took a deep, shaky breath. His question fired something off in your brain. A realisation perhaps. You did want to be on your knees for him, being the reason for his pleasure, be at his command, make him feel good, make him fucking fall apart because of you.

"So pretty in this tiny fuckin' dress." He cooed. His hand came up, cupping your cheek. Your eyeshadow was a pretty soft blue and he adored it. His fingers trailed down, tracing your lower lip. "You'd look so perfect with my cock in your mouth."

You couldn't even suppress the whimper that ensued. Did you thank him? Slap him? Get on your knees and prove his point?

He didn't seem fazed by the fact that you weren't saying much. You were responding to him in other ways. Leaning right into him with your eyes lulled, your hands resting on his broad shoulders. Your chest heaving beneath that fucking pink dress. You were driving him crazy with how badly he wanted you.

The night before had been his own sick little test. Either, you'd be game, or you'd pull away from him completely. Regardless, he'd know where you stood and accept all that accompanied him. He knew how fucked up it was but you really seemed to enjoy the game.

His other hand squeezed the back of your thigh, inching higher. "What colour are your panties?"

You gasped at the question, so turned on by him and how bold he was. It used to scare you, but now being on the receiving end was a completely different ballpark.

"Blue." You breathed out.

"What shade of blue?" He pressed on. "Like your eyeshadow?"

You twisted your lips in thought. "Do you want to see?"

Harry released a shocked laugh, but his mind was fucking reeling. Did you really just ask if he wanted to see your panties?

"A peek couldn't hurt."

He gripped your hips and lifted you up onto the vanity behind you. You were shocked that he could lift you so effortlessly and smoothly. You crossed your legs, more to tease him than anything else. Your expression was sultry, and he felt lightheaded at the sight of you. Slowly, you unfolded your legs but didn't open them.

"Don't be shy, sugar. Show me and I'll make it up to you."

You let out a slow exhale, mustering up all of your courage. You were shaking, but it wasn't nerves. He had you so worked up and he had barely done anything. He'd riled you up and talked to you, and you were already fucking saturated.

Your legs parted, feet resting on either side of his thighs on the chair. Harry's eyes stayed on yours, his hands reaching to slide up your thighs, pushing the hem of your pink press up so he could get a good view of you, finally looking down.

And what a fucking view it was. Your thighs were soft, and he let his hands squeeze at them. Sky blue lace covered the area he'd been dreaming about for six months. He let out a soft groan and let his fingertip brush over the skin where your abdomen met the panties.

"Lace? Did you wear these for me?"

"I had you in mind."

"Naughty girl." He smirked, shuffling forward. His thumb brushed over your clothed clit and you let out a whimper, biting your lip to quell anything louder than might to escape. "Can I taste you? Please? Been wantin' to for months."

You nodded, your mouth dry. You'd let this man do anything to you, and hearing him tell you he'd been wanting this for months left you in a frenzy.

"Words, sugar. Let's hear 'em."

"Please," You whispered. "taste me."

"Good girl, that's it." He pulled your panties to the side, desperate to see you and taste you. You were glistening, so wet and plump for him. He sighed, running his thumb along your clit before venturing between your folds to feel how wet you were. Your thighs jolted as he slipped his thumb to collect your excitement and spread it up to your clit.

"Why are you so wet, hm?" He wondered aloud, his eyes meeting yours again.

"Because of you, Harry."

"Me?" Cocky little shit.

"Mm."

"Are you always this wet for me, sugar?"

You hesitated, not sure if you wanted to give him this. He would never forget it, probably remind you that he knew every day. Probably slip his hand up your dress just to appease his own curiosity.

"Only when you're nice to me."

"But you like me mean, don't you?"

"You're an asshole."

"Gets you wet, though."

Abruptly, as if impatient, he lowered his head and attached his mouth to your clit. The scorching heat of it was intense, and you grabbed a fistful of his freshly tamed curls to hold him to you.

His tongue ran over your entirety. From your entrance right back up to your clit, tasting you fully as his mouth closed around the sensitive bundle of nerves. You threw your head back, rolling your cunt towards his face as he softly ate you with a passion that had you shaking.

Before anything more could occur, Sal knocked on the door, demanding that Harry meet with him. He knew better than to enter any room that was hidden behind a closed door when it came to Harry. But if he'd known it was you behind that door with him, that would be another issue entirely.

You shot up, pushing him out of the way and righting your dress. You were tingling and you could still feel his tongue between your legs. His eyes were dark as he watched you from his seat, amused by your fumbling.

"Go before Sal comes back." You were flustered, your body felt electric and all he'd given you was his mouth for what — ten seconds?

He was too relaxed, and it only pissed you off further. He stood, sauntering towards you to press you against the vanity. His hand cupped your jaw, his rings kissing your skin.

"Funny that you're making demands when I'm the boss."

You breathed heavily, unsure of how to reply so you just held eye contact with him. Your lips parted as his head tilted, inching closer. His hand loosened, melting to your cheek so he could rub it with his thumb.

"Who's in charge, hm?"

"You are."

"That's right." He crooned, his lips brushing yours. "And who's gonna give you his cock later?"

The air was stripped from your lungs, the depth behind his question clear. Would you submit to him? Venture into this connection you had with him? You got on each other's nerves but fuck if there wasn't the most incredible sexual tension between you.

"You are, Harry."

He hummed, gripping your hand and bringing it down to cup his cock. He was hard, and pulsed in your hand when you gave him a squeeze. You just about crumbled when he moaned, his eyes lulling as you did it again. Harder.

"There's my good girl."

Sal knocked again, clearly impatient tonight. Harry smirked and could feel his lips curl against yours before he pulled away. He left the room with a confident strut while you were left shaking. You took a second to catch your breath, willing the arousal between your legs to simmer down before heading back out towards the stage.

You grabbed your purse and kept busy doing your job while Harry caught up with Sal. He was doted over, like always, and Sal told him how his viewings were skyrocketing. After he'd finished up his tasks on stage, he was whisked back to wardrobe so he could be styled.

Because Harry was busy chatting with tonight's guest and getting ready, all you had to do was wait for him to come to you. You peeked through the curtains at the set. The audience was being brought in and you were watching the seats fill from the side of the stage.

A piercing whistle sounded out from behind you and you twirled on the spot. He looked phenomenal. His suit was a sky blue, not too dissimilar to the shade of your panties. His shirt was a crisp white, his chain peeking through where it was unbuttoned, sat between his pecs and the light dusting of hair.

His eyes looked greener when he was dressed in blue, his lips more raspberry. He approached you and your eyes flew down to his shiny black oxfords.

"Whaddya think huh?" He spun on his heels, showing off. "Matchin'."

"Blue suits you."

"Suits you, too." Harry winked, standing close to you before nodding towards the audience. "How's it looking out there?"

Was he... trying to make casual conversation? After his face was between your thighs and all the talk that proceeded it? "Full house, like always. Did you... was that on purpose?"

"What?"

"The blue suit."

"Why else would I ask what colour your panties were, hm?"

"Because you're nosy."

"You know... every time you insult me, I get hard."

"Good thing I have plenty of them, then."

"Come on," He pressed you tight against the wall. "Gimme another one."

"Prick."

He chuckled, amused by how freely you were cursing. "That all you got?"

"You're the cockiest son a bitch I've ever met." You breathed out. His hands pressed to the wall on either side of your head, caging you in.

"Alright." He was crowding your space, the spicy-sweet vanilla of his cologne clouding your senses. He checked to see if anyone was around before clicking his tongue. "Take your panties off."

"What?" You were well aware that any crew member could walk by, and you weren't about to be caught slipping your panties down your legs.

"You heard me. Just lemme hold onto 'em until the show's over."

"Are you bent? I'm not giving you my panties. I need them and someone could walk by at any moment."

"Mellow out, no one's gonna see."

You deliberated in your head, genuinely considering it. His head tilted to the side, gauging your thoughts. This was so... exhilarating. Exciting. You were so out of it for him, and glad that you finally both agreed on something. You were both attracted to each other physically and that was about it.

Fuck it. Your hands reached beneath your dress, and Harry took a step back to give you room, keeping a lookout. You stepped out of those pretty little panties and held them out to him on your index finger. He snatched them up, eyeing how delicate they looked in his hand.

"Far out." He laughed, in shock that you actually did it.

You were a bundle of surprises tonight. He was throwing stuff at you that was pretty out there and you were throwing it right back. Sweet little sugar had a little more spice than he had anticipated.

"Cheers, sugar." He twirled them around on his finger and you slapped his shoulder.

"Don't just wave them around!" You hissed, looking around to make sure no one had seen the whole interaction.

Harry shoved them in his pants pocket and you smoothed out the bump they left, always a perfectionist. The guest of the night turned the corner and almost bumped into the two of you. You jumped apart, letting Harry chat to the guest on his own. He rarely enjoyed it and you looked back to see the subtle hints of irritation on his face. You knew he'd flash that charming smile and those adorable dimples as soon as the cameras came on.

With only a few minutes until the show was due to start, you bumbled around and made sure everything was perfect for him. You were very aware of the fact that you didn't have your panties on, and with your dress being shorter than usual, you had to be careful.

Sal breezed past you, beelining towards Harry and the guest with a huge grin. He greeted them loudly and you did your part by waiting to the side for further instruction. The guest was led to their spot for showtime, one of the stage managers with them to keep them entertained and to give their cues. Harry shook Sal's hand, hearing Sal's usual encouraging words before making his way towards you.

"Feeling okay?" You checked in, handing him a couple of Certs breath mints. You walked side by side towards center stage, and he wasn't shy about his stare on you. It felt different — the air around you. Usually filled with annoyance, was something else. Hotter, dreamier, sensual.

"Snazzy." He nodded, chucking the mints into his mouth. "Little foreplay always gets me goin'."

You huffed out a breath at his response, resisting the urge to retort something cheeky as the stagehand came to run through the show one more time. You righted his outfit, his eyes not leaving you as you made sure he looked smooth and perfect.

As the stagehand left, you grabbed your round brush from your purse and went over his curls. You began adding a little volume while he hummed and oohed and aahed to exercise and prepare his voice.

"You know New York..." You guided.

"You know New York, you need New York, you know you need unique New York."

"Again."

He sighed, closing his eyes so he could focus. "You know New York, you need New York, you know you need unique New York."

"Lesser leather..." You hinted at another tongue twister. You ran the lint roller across the lapels of his suit jacket and over his shoulders, catching his eyes and not missing the glint in them. "...never weathered..."

"It's funny," He smirked. "you're a tongue twister master right now, but you won't be able to say your own name by the time I'm done with you later."

"Oh my-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna fuckin' ruin you."

"One minute till curtain, everyone!" Sal's voice boomed. "Look alive, look alive!"

The crowd was roaring with applause as the show began, but all you could hear was your pulse in your ears as your heart thudded in your chest. Harry, who usually thrived off of the cheers, was only focused on you. On your sweet voice asking if he wanted to see your panties, on your feisty insults.

"Filmed before a live studio audience..."

You called him a cocky son of a bitch and all he could think about was bending you over his knee and seeing how much shit you talked while his hand was marking your ass with its imprint.

Everyone fled the stage, but you were stood completely still in front of him. Frozen.

"Harry..."

His lips brushed yours again and your ears started ringing.

"...All the way from Holmes Chapel, Cheshire..."

"Look at you," He crooned. "Runnin' round with no panties with that pretty ribbon in your hair. Dirty little thing, aren't you, sugar?"

You could feel how slick you were between your thighs and your eyes fluttered as his hand ventured beneath your skirt from behind, cupping your ass cheek with a strong hand before venturing further. His fingertips found your cunt and you almost collapsed against him.

He hummed lowly, rumbling in his chest. He pulled his hand away, very aware that the curtain was close to pulling up. He held his index and middle fingers in front of you, glistening with your arousal, and ran them along your lower lip.

You didn't even hesitate to suck his fingers into your mouth, not losing eye contact. Harry's brows turned down, his mouth dropping as he drawled out a slow fuuuck. And then he kissed you. It was messy and wet and quick. His lips were so soft against your own before he sucked deftly on your tongue, tasting you and your cunt at the same time.

"...Give it up for your host, the one, the only..."

"Fuck, can we cancel the show?" He growled, holding you to him with a grip on the nape of your neck.

"N-No. I have to go."

"...Mr. Harry Styles!"

You fled from the stage, walking backwards, not wanting to take your eyes off him. His expression was one of longing, his eyes not leaving you either. The curtain lifted, igniting him in the warmth of the stage lighting and the eruption of cheers.

He turned and faced the crowd, waving and blowing kisses. His smile was dazzling, and his blue suit was celestial under the bright glow. He was wrapped in success and adoration. You could see it radiating off him as he found centre stage and bowed.

"Good evening, New York!" He waited for applaud to finish. "How are we?"

You rounded the backstage area, checking in with crew and chatting to the guest.

"Can I just say..." Harry continued, clasping his hands together. "you look ravishing tonight, New York." More praise from the audience. "It's true, you do."

You rolled your eyes at the excited yells and cheers from the crowd. You watched him in a totally new light tonight. He was on a level that no one could reach. He was born to be on stage, to entertain.

He introduced the guest and brought them onstage, talking about their upcoming music and chatting them up. During the commercial breaks you checked in with the guest, and made sure Harry's appearance was on point.

His eyes were on you the whole time, and you could see him fighting the urge to make some kind of questionable comment. His eyes veered south and stayed on where the hem of your dress brushed your thighs.

"Need anything else?" You asked him politely, aware of the audiences stare on your back.

"I won't need coffee tonight." He educated softly and you nodded.

"We're back in fifteen seconds." The cameraman alerted and you gathered your things and went to leave. The guest was busy fixing their hair with the stylist. Harry's hand on your wrist stopped you, pulling you back.

"Actually, there is one more thing." He back peddled, and you raised an expectant brow, leaning in close to hear him. "Stay right over there, okay? Wanna be able to see you."

He pointed to a spot off stage, where only guests and select members of crew like Sal or the director were allowed to stand during air time. And he wanted you there. So he could look over and see you and know you were watching.

"I- Yeah, okay."

You rushed off stage, standing exactly where he told you to. He watched you right until the advertisement break ended.

"And we're back in three... two... one..."

His eyes switched back to the camera, his expression slipping into the charm that came so naturally to him once he was live on air.

He was a star. Delightful and eccentric and unapologetic.

He exchanged more jokes with the guest, who as an up and coming musician, was gearing up for their performance. You stayed to watch the show exactly where Harry wanted you, and you were pleased that you didn't get any slack from Sal. You rarely got to actually enjoy the show like this, and in a way, it felt like Harry had done you a favour.

His eyes often flicked to you after he'd told a joke or said something cheeky. Like he was directed it at you, or maybe he was checking to see if you found him as funny as the crowd did. When you didn't laugh as hard as he thought the joke deserved, he'd try extra hard to get you to laugh at the following one.

It was odd that he was trying to seek validation from you when he had millions at his feet.

As the show wrapped up, you couldn't have applauded him louder. You were proud, you felt giddy and bubbly inside. He was born for this, there was no denying it.

And then there was the realisation of what was to come once the show had finished. You became nervous. And insanely wet. The anticipation rattled yet excited you and you weren't sure what to make of it.

You rounded towards his exit, a crowd of crew and groupies waiting for him. He came to you first, as you were closest. He shot polite smiles to everyone but his attention was on you.

"How'd I do?"

"Phenomenal."

"Did you like my jokes?"

You side-eyed a few people waiting for a shred of his attention and felt the need to rush this interaction between you along. You didn't want to raise suspicions and you also didn't want to take away any attention he could be giving to these people who were clearly waiting for him.

"My tummy laughs from hurting so much." You whispered. His grin was contagious, dimples and his bunny teeth on full display. His eyes were warm as he stared down at you.

"Really?"

"Mhm."

A throat cleared behind you and Harry looked up to shoot them a reassuring wink and then looked back at you. "Wait for me in my dressing room."

It was an order, even with the softness in his tone. You licked your lips, not missing when his eyes caught it. You backed away, slowly pulling your ribbon out of your hair. His jaw clenched as your hair fell free.

"Yes, Mr. Styles. Right away."

His dressing room felt alien to you as you slipped inside, a familiar place with such a different atmosphere now. How quickly the dynamic had changed between you was dizzying. You always knew you were attracted to him, but you never thought you'd act on it.

And you certainly never thought he'd have his mouth on your cunt minutes before a show.

How long were you meant to wait? You checked your appearance in the mirror, your cheeks flushed with excitement. Your dress was pristine, as was your makeup and you wondered how long that would last.

You were riffling through Harry's pile of books when he came in. Your spine straightened, every nerve tingling. He closed the door behind him, leaning back against it.

His gaze was one that had you clenching your thighs together. An intimidating hunger, a deep lust. His eyes were dark, void of the bright glint they usually offered. He didn't say anything and that only made the tension thicker.

And then he locked the door with a click.

He took one single step towards you and you inhaled a sharp breath at the slow, torturous pace of it. Like he was taunting and teasing you. He shoved one hand in his pocket, the other reaching up. He gripped his lower lip between his thumb and index finger, his eyes finding your feet in your Mary Janes and trailing up your legs.

He was slow with that as well as if to keep you on your toes. He had always been so rushed and spontaneous with a lot of what he did. But this.... this he'd been thinking about for a long time. He'd had months to plan this through.

Plan how he was going to play with you, make you beg for him, make you feel good.

He really enjoyed the secrecy of it. And all that would come after. He liked the idea of meeting your eyes at work, both of you exchanging knowing looks because you both knew what it took to pleasure each other.

Fuck. His sex life wasn't complicated. He fucked fans because the likelihood of seeing them ever again was slim. But you were close to home, dangerously so. He saw you all the time. And somehow that just made him want you even more.

He produced your panties from his pocket and came to stand in front of you.

"Now," He began, lowering his head to meet your eyes. "are you going to need help keeping quiet?"

He fucking knew he'd have you screaming for him. He was just being precautious, knowing that on the other side of the door, the studio was littered with crew members.

You shook your head. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't think you're that good."

He rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek, huffing out a humourless laugh before pocketing your panties again. You were so snappy and cheeky with him and he'd be lying if he said it didn't make his dick so fucking hard in his pants. You were winding him up. Trying to poke at him and provoke him. Well, it was fucking working.

"Oh, you don't think so?"

"I think that's why your ego's as big as it is. Because you can't fuck."

He did what he wanted to do earlier that day; he grabbed your hair in his fist. You gasped through a surprised smile, and he brought you close until you were pressed against him.

"What did I tell you?" His voice was low, thick with arousal. You'd never heard his voice that deep and you felt it between your legs. "Hm?"

"That you won't need coffee tonight?"

He gripped your hair harder and his cock throbbed when you smiled.

"I told you," His eyes were burning. "that I'm going to ruin you."

The way he pronounced every word was electrifying. As if he was really trying to get his message across. How was this the same man that had asked if you laughed at his jokes after his show?

You flicked your tongue against his lower lip. "Do your worst."

His kiss was far harsher this time. Still just as messy, and you figured that was just how he liked it. He wasn't shy about it. He used his teeth, nibbling on your lower lip, biting on your tongue. He used his free hand to fist your dress at the small of your back.

You were pressed tight against him and fuck, he was so hard for you. Even through his pants, you were impressed with his size. You wanted to feel more, experience him fully. You didn't have all the time in the world, locked away in his dressing room. You were both painfully aware.

He pushed you back, landing you in the chair next to the vanity. He stripped off his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. You watched as he pushed your dress out of the way, clearly annoyed that the fabric was disrupting him from his goal. Your center was still so wet for him and he couldn't even suppress the low grown at the sight.

"Pretty little pussy," He gripped your inner thighs, holding them apart. "still so fucking drenched for me. You enjoyed watching me onstage tonight, didn't you? Hearing everyone fawn over me but you know you're the one I want."

"I want you, too. So bad, please fuck me." You whined, your hips rocking up restlessly.

"I wanna have a play first."

"Fuck, please just-"

He spat directly between your legs, coating your pussy in his spit. His eyes flickered up to the clock on the wall before he attached his mouth to you with a deep moan. He licked along your entrance and then right up to the sensitive bundle of nerves, fully tasting you again.

He dipped his tongue inside you, fucking you with it before pulling away with a pop and sucking your clit back into his mouth. He trapped it between his teeth and flicked and twirled delicious patterns against it that had your muscles clenching.

He ate you as if he enjoyed it more than you did. He targeted your clit perfectly, able to read your body and its responses so well.

He held eye contact while had his mouth on your cunt, burying his face against you like he couldn't get close enough. Your legs shook on either side of his head, and he kept them spread with his wide hands. You could feel how cold his rings were against your skin.

Your hands reached down, tangling themselves into his curls. You held him against you, his mouth so scorching on you that you felt lightheaded with the tingling heat.

He pulled away momentarily, slipping his index and middle finger in his mouth, all the way until he drew back so teeth were peeling off his rings. He grabbed your hand, taking two of your fingers one by one and replacing the rings on them. They were huge on you but you admired how his jewelry looked on you, the ones he wore while he was on air. Glistening and extravagant.

Now he'd removed them so he could feel you properly.

Deciding that you were wet enough, he ran the pads of his fingers along your entrance. They veered up, circling your clit slowly before heading south again. You cried out softly as his fingers slipped inside you. It was an exquisite sensation and you stared down at him in wonder, mouth agape as you moaned out.

He curled them up, your spine melting as they pressed against a spot inside of you that had before now never been discovered. It was a blinding pressure, tight and full and so fucking good.

Harry smirked at the apparent shock on your face before he moved his fingers, curling them against your g-spot. As he found a rhythm, he brought his mouth back to your clit.

You arched your back, gasping for air as he worked you. He pumped his fingers hard, bringing you higher and higher to an elevation you'd never known. His mouth left your clit and before you could complain at the loss, he was spitting on it once more before giving it a mild slap with his free hand.

You screamed out, not expecting the harshness to feel that enticing. You were being far too loud for him to continue this comfortably. He didn't want anyone to interrupt and moreover, he didn't want you to get in trouble. He wanted to make you come over and over without a care in the world.

The same hand that slapped you retrieved your panties from his pocket before he shoved the lace into your mouth.

If you weren't so blissed out, you may have even be shocked by it. But at that moment, it was so hot and dirty. You trusted him to know best and look after you.

His fingers pulsed against your g-spot and you felt an intensity building in your abdomen and you rolled your hips towards his face. His mouth was relentless on your clit, desperate to get you zoned out with pleasure.

Your walls clenched and ballooned around his fingers and he pulled away, his eyes on you. They were full of lust and hunger, piercing right through you.

"Eyes on me sugar, don't look away." He wanted to watch you. To stare into your eyes, to see your orgasm shatter you.

He pumped his fingers, his pace blinding. He knew exactly what he was doing, knew exactly what to do to get you there. He grunted with the exertion, the tendons in his arm flexing and bulging with how hard he worked you.

And then he smirked, almost pleased with himself. "Have you ever squirted before?"

With your mouth full of lace, you weren't able to verbally answer. You shook your head and he thought the confused frown on your face was fucking adorable.

Before you could even think about what he was asking, the most euphoric explosion of bliss rocked through you. You cried out into the lace, your entire body shaking as you came harder than you ever had before. It was fucking annihilating. You did as you were told, your eyes not leaving his. It was hard, of course. You wanted to shut your eyes and bask in the hot sensation that was taking over every nerve in your body.

But he wanted to watch you. And he wanted you to see the burst of fluid that erupted from your cunt, past his fingers. "Thaaat's it. Good fucking girl, come all over my fingers. Just like that."

You writhed in the chair, grateful for his grip on you. You didn't stop shaking, tremors of pleasure rocking you. He helped you as you came down, your chest heaving and your body trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You didn't think it was possible for you to come that way, and you could feel yourself becoming addicted to him.

Harry stood, his hand running up and down your thighs, squeezing them. He removed your panties from your mouth, leaning down to kiss you deeply. You blushed as you tasted yourself on his tongue and curiously ran a hand between your legs to feel the aftermath of your orgasm.

He watched, thinking it was so hot to see your fingers venture between your folds and along your dripping thighs.

"Feel nice?" He hummed, chuckling at your curious expression.

"So nice, I've never... I didn't think I could do that."

"You got me all wet, messy girl." He smiled, kissing you again.

He stood and helped you out of your dress, peeling off your bra so he could play with your tits. He sucked and bit at your nipples, feeling the fullness of your breasts in his palm.

"You're delicious all over, sugar." He admired your fully naked body. "Can't wait to feel you properly. See what that tight little cunt feels like around my cock."

He palmed himself as he spoke, so desperate to feel you. His expression was one of lustful longing, and you could feel it resonate between your legs as if you hadn't just had an earth-shattering climax.

"Take your clothes off." You whined, going to sit up and pouting when he stopped you.

He started to unbutton his shirt, revealing the white singlet underneath. "Stay just like that. Wanna give you my cock while you're sitting in my chair."

The chair where he sat before every show. Reciting jokes in the mirror while his hair was fussed over. The vanity where he'd first seen you, bent over it watering his flowers.

He got rid of his shirt, clearly impatient. He peeled off the white singlet too and you could have drooled at the sight of him. His broad torso and shoulders, his toned tummy, his strong pecs. The ink decorating him. Fuck, you probably did drool.

He caught the leg of the chair on his foot and dragged you closer, undoing his pants at the same time. You shifted forward, your hand reaching out to boldly cup his cock. He groaned, lulling his head back on his neck. His hand came over yours and urged you to squeeze him harder.

"You're so hard." You mewled, humming as he watched you feel him. His jaw dropped as you moved your hand expertly.

"I've been hard for you all night."

He was hyper-aware of the position you were both in and that you were on limited time. The studio was due to lock up soon, left only to after-hours security and the cleaners.

You leaned closer, pulling his pants down with his help. You ran your lips along his length over his briefs, letting your tongue flick out. He could feel the heat of your mouth seep through the material and he was losing his mind over the fact that only his briefs separated your mouth from his cock.

You peered up at him through your lashes, grabbing the band of his underwear to pull them down. You'd always been so reserved and controlled but the look on your face when you finally saw his cock had him fucking spiraling. Intimidation, thirst, determination.

With his pants and briefs pooled at his ankles, he guided you to take a hold of him. You obeyed, wanting to please him just as much as he pleased you. You pumped him slowly in your hand, loving how he felt in your fist.

"Your cock is so..."

Harry laughed, cupping your cheek and staring down at you expectantly. "What?"

"Pretty." It wasn't the word you were going for, but it wasn't the wrong word, either. He had a gorgeous cock, so thick and long. It was silky and hot and pulsed in your hand. You were impressed and intrigued.

"Pretty?" His voice was so soft as he regarded you.

"Yeah."

Pretty. He could deal with pretty. His thumb trailed across your lips. "Mm, and how's it taste?"

You pulled away marginally, grabbing his free hand and urging him to grab your hair in his tight first once more. You laid out your tongue and licked the tip of his dick, glistening with precum. You hummed at his taste and took him deeper, using your hand to spread your spit down his shaft.

Harry moaned deeply, taking a solid step forward so that you took more of him past your lips.

"Swallow me."

"Make me."

He narrowed his eyes at you, watching as you opened wide and held still, waiting for him to make you take it. With his hold on your hair, he guided you to swallow his cock. You were able to take about half, your hand working what you couldn't yet fit.

But he was helping you, not pushing you too far but doing it inch by inch. Your eyes began to water and you gagged when he pushed in deep. Your other hand was pressed against his thigh to keep yourself steady.

"Good girl." He praised, his voice low. "Take my cock so fucking well, don't you?"

He couldn't wrap his head around what was happening. He'd imagined this day far too many times to count, and it was always blurred by the unpleasant dynamic you two shared. But here you were, sucking him off after he'd made you explode around his fingers.

You loved having him down your throat. You enjoyed the challenge. He was so big and when you were able to take all of him, it was a feeling of satisfaction. He held you down until you were choking and your nose was buried in the hair around the base of his cock.

He wiped a tiny bit of smudged mascara from under your eye, admiring the blue of your eyeshadow and the colour of your lips as they wrapped around his cock. Fuck, he needed to be inside you. He was desperate for it.

He slipped you back onto the chair, angling you so that you were open to him. It happened so quickly and your mind was reeling at the sudden change. He was in full control and had no issue putting you where he wanted you. And you trusted him. He was so arrogant and you wanted to see if his bite was just as harsh as his bite. Considering the wet mess you'd made, it definitely was.

"Fuck, can't wait to feel you properly." He sighed, grabbing his cock at the base and running his tip between your legs.

Your gripped his arms, absentmindedly smoothing your fingers over some of his tattoos. "Beg me."

"What?" He raised a brow, his tone perplexed.

"Beg me to let you fuck me. You're an asshole, tell me you're sorry and beg me. Then I'll let you fuck me."

You didn't miss the way his cock throbbed when you called him an asshole, the flex in his jaw as he took in your words. Beg? Apologise?

He scoffed. "That's cute. As if you don't get so fucking wet when I'm an asshole to you. Just like how hard I get when you call me shit like that with that filthy mouth of yours."

You rolled your hips up, gripping his hip to pull him closer to you. "Please, baby. I wanna hear you beg."

The very tip of him slipped inside of you and you both moaned at the sensation. You were so wet and tight and he knew he could step forward and be inside you fully. But the expectant look you were giving him stopped him.

He gripped your throat, leaning down so he could bend over you. He gritted his teeth, his eyes hard on yours. "Please let me fuck you, sugar. Get you gushing on my cock over and over, fuckin' drown in your wet little pussy."

"Are you going to be nice?"

"But it's better when I'm mean." He crooned. "I'll make you take my cock, fuck you so hard, and won't stop until you cry."

Your eyes fluttered as he inched forward a little, sliding himself in further. The head of his cock was so snug inside of you and the way he stretched you had your toes curling. You brought your legs higher, hitching them up to his sides.

"Please," You mewled.

"Tell me, sugar." He needed to hear you say it. "Tell me you want me to fuck this dreamy cunt."

"Fuck me, Harry. Please."

"Hard?"

"Hard."

His hand tightened around your throat as he rolled his hips forward. He stretched you, so fucking big that he had to take his time to push past your tightness. His gaze narrowed as he pressed in tight, his hips flush against you. As he became fully buried inside of you, your vision tunneled on him and him only. On how good he felt, how his eyes were trained on yours.

He'd thought about what you'd look like stuffed full of his cock but he could never have imagined you being this perfect. Whimpering and moaning so fucking sweet while his hand was wrapped around your throat.

"Please move." You begged, feeling so overwhelmed with him being so thick inside of you but not moving.

He slowly retracted his hips, your pussy trembling to keep him there. He slowly pushed his hips forward again, groaning lowly as you clenched around him. He started out slow as first, wanting to ease you into it, his hands holding onto your sides. But you were desperate.

"You call that hard, baby?"

He shook his head, smiling at the bite in your tone. "You sure you can handle it?"

"What did I tell you about that ego of yours-"

He growled, seeing that you were toying with him again. He didn't want you to have the upper hand. So he started fucking you. Hard and relentless and strong. You cried out at his strength, his cock pumping against your g-spot so perfectly.

"Fuck yes, take my cock. Good fucking girl."

It was electrical. You were saturated from your orgasm he'd given you, he hit so deep, pushing against your front wall. He gripped your breasts, admiring as they bounced while he fucked you. He spat on them, unashamed in his desires to be so fucking dirty with you.

"Love your tits." He grunted. "Let me fuck them one day, sugar. Wanna see them fuckin' dripping in my cum."

"Yes, take whatever you want." You gasped.

You'd let him. He was cheeky and an asshole but he fucked you far better than anyone else ever could and he was just getting started. And you could find ways to keep his mouth busy when it started spouting nonsense.

"Yeah?" He hung over you, his curls dangling down. "Will you let me have you again, hm? Let me fuck your throat, your tight cunt, fuck- make you my plaything?"

"I want to be your plaything." You sighed, his necklace swinging in your face, glistening silver.

"You do, don't you? I'll have this pussy on my tongue while I memorise my script. Carry your panties around in my pocket and give them back to you when you've earned them."

The pressure was blinding and he brought your legs up over his shoulders so he could take you even harder. The legs of the chair scraped obnoxiously against the ground as he fucked you into it. He was brutal, making you take his cock with each harsh thrust.

You cried out, sobbing his name. He was so deep and you knew you'd be feeling him for days after. He picked you up, sitting you on the vanity. You leaned back against the mirror, icy against your back. He hauled your hips towards him, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He took his cock in his hand and fisted your hair with the other, holding you still so he could slide inside of you again. You clenched around him mercilessly, and he had to flex his hips harder so he could take you properly.

The vanity jolted on its legs under the force of him. Your hand wraps around his neck, trying to stabilise yourself against the onslaught of his thrusts.

"Call me an asshole again."

"Harry-" You jolted underneath him. "Fuck, you're an asshole."

"Yeah? Wanna hit me?"

"W-What?"

"Fucking do it. Slap me like I know you've been wanting to for the past six months."

Your hands clutched at his curls. Hitting him was the last thing on your mind right now while he was inside you. Until he'd brought it up, that is. You'd wanted to slap him on a daily basis and you wondered if he'd been reading your mind.

Mustering up courage enough to do so, you raised your hand and slapped his cheek. Not as hard as you could have, but the groan he emitted told you that you weren't gentle, either.

"So good." He grinned, his cheek reddening from your hand. You gripped his jaw harshly, licking your handprint before kissing him.

Your kisses moved to his neck and he tilted his head to give you more access to the skin. He flicked his eyes to his reflection in the mirror, finding his lustful expression, his cheek red, His eyes were alight with danger and arousal, driving his hips into you as he stared at himself. You moaned loudly as he pounded into you, unrelenting. Wanting you so out of it so that you could never look at him the same way again.

He imagined you looking at him during rehearsals, looking down at your Mary Janes with flushed cheeks. Your soft cadence as you asked him when he would fuck you next. Your surprised gasp when he'd pull you into a supply closet to fuck you hard and quick before anyone noticed your absence.

Just as you grew accustomed to the position, he flipped you, brushes and hair products flying off the top as you found balance on it. Your eyes met his in the mirror and they blazed through yours as he pushed himself into your warmth again.

"Fuck," He hissed, throwing his head back as you gripped him tightly. He held onto your shoulder and fucked you, near on slamming you into the furniture. His hand crept up to cup your throat, the other doing the same as he found a rhythm.

"Right there, don't stop." You gasped.

"Gonna think of this every time I'm in this room." He grunted. "Sit in that chair before a show and think about your perfect cunt around me. How you smile when I wrap my hands around your throat, how much you love having my cock to choke on."

"I want you to fuck me on this vanity every day, Harry."

"Every day, Sugar." He was breathless. "So much I wanna do to you. Play with you, make your pussy cream for me. Fuck, how did we go so long without this?"

He started using his height to his advantage, screwing down into you. You struggled to grasp clarity, your senses clouding as pleasure took over. His hands tightened around your throat and he took you harder when a ghost of a smile touched your lips.

He slipped two of his fingers in your mouth, hooking them into your cheek and pulling. He hissed at how fucking submissive you were and how you were willing to be just as dirty as him.

Letting go of your neck entirely, one hand moved to your hip and the other to your hair. He pulled you up, forcing you to look into the mirror.

"I'm an asshole but I fuck you good, don't I?"

You wanted to slap the smirk off his face. He could sense your annoyance at how cocky he was. He took you harder and you eyed him in the reflection, not wanting to give him an answer. And that didn't work for him.

He gripped your hair tight, pulling you back until his lips met your ear.

"Don't I?" He spat.

"Yes,"

He spanked your ass. Hard. Twice. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, you fuck me good."

Pleased, Harry reached in front of you, getting you to wet his fingers with your tongue before rubbing fast circles on your clit. Your legs turned to jelly, your body melting against him as he took you hard and played with your clit.

You felt the rush of pleasure wrap around you and grow in every nerve ending. He watched you in the mirror, intent on seeing you come again. He held you up while you writhed in his arms, his hips unyielding as he split you in half with his cock.

Your hands flew out, pushing various things off the vanity top as your orgasm barrelled towards you. Harry gritted his teeth, bending his knees to follow you as you moved so he could keep fucking you.

"You gonna come? Hm? Dirty fucking girl. Running around the studio with no panties on. This cunt was so wet for me from the start, wasn't it? Tiny dress, bossy little heels, and that fucking clipboard."

This climax was more intense than the first, but no less wet. You exploded around his cock, crying out his name before his hand came over your mouth to keep you quiet.

"Shhh. Good girl. Keep coming on my cock, don't stop, don't stop." He was feral at how good you felt around him, rubbing your clit until you were trembling at the overstimulation. His hips slowed, faltering. He was losing composure the tighter your pussy clenched around him.

He picked you up, not wasting any time in settling back on the small couch in the room. He laid flat on his back, while you straddled his hips. Your hands ran over his chest, nails digging into the skin as he gripped your ass and moved your hips.

His cock sat snuggly between your folds and you shamelessly rolled yourself along his length. You felt empty without him inside you and you lifted up, grabbing his length with a shaking hand, and slid him back into your warmth.

You both moaned out softly, his cock throbbing inside you. He could feel how close he was, as could you. Your hot and wet and dreamy cunt wasn't helping him stave it off. His vision was trained on you sitting on top of him like a fucking angel. Your tits, red from his teeth, your full hips, and your blissed-out expression.

He rolled his hips up softly, encouraging you to move. "Ride me, sugar."

You found a rhythm that had you shaking, so sensitive from your orgasms His cock pressed deliciously tight against your g-spot with every roll forward. With your hands flat on his chest, you started to bounce on him. You were so wet and the sound of it was making him crumble. The wet slaps and the way your pussy was drenching him.

His gaze met yours and he just about came. Your eyes lulled, cheeks flushed and your mouth agape as you fucked him. The most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. He grabbed your tits, playing and pulling your nipples with deft fingers. He strained his neck, moaning as you picked up your pace.

You wanted him to finish. To feel the toe-curling euphoria he'd given you. The one given when a connection like the one you had was this electric.

"Ooh, shit. Just like that." He praised, squeezing your hips so hard you knew they'd bruise.

"Yeah? You love watching me bounce on your cock, don't you?"

You'd thrown his own tactic right back in his face. The sweet voice with the daring question. Of course, he loved it. He was addicted.

"Fuck yes."

Your hand trailed up, lightly wrapping around his throat. He could feel the rings he'd given you to wear against his skin and he snarled, holding your hips and screwing up into you, meeting your thrusts. Having you fuck him with your hand around his throat had him fucking spiraling into another dimension.

"You're close," You mewled, his cock throbbing hard inside you. "I can feel it."

"Yeah? Go on, make me cum. I'm gonna cum so fucking hard for you, sugar. Gonna fill you right up, fucking take it. Take all my cum- fuck."

He let you take him while his orgasm hit. It was white-hot intense, his grip on you not lessening as he moaned out your name. He pumped you full of his cum, the thick white ropes painting your walls. His brow turned down in the middle, his lips parted a little and you could see the whites of his teeth. The thick cords in his neck protruded under your hand.

He was stunning and animalistic and brazen, even in a time when one is most vulnerable.

The muscles and tendons in his arms flexed as he held you down on top of him, humming out lowly as the flames of his orgasm dimmed into embers.

And while neither of you was sure how it would feel post the explosion, you'd expected at the very least that it would be awkward. You didn't have the fondest attachment towards each other but fuck if you weren't addicted to each other's bodies now.

He sighed, reeling in his climax. His hands crawled up your sides, encasing you and encouraging you to come down to him. He hugged you, sighing in your neck before kissing the skin. You could hear a commotion in the hallway of the crew leaving and it suddenly sunk in that you'd just fucked your boss.

And neither of you could wait to do it again.

"Should we get out of here?" He asked after a few minutes.

"We?"

"Mm. Head back to mine if you want. Got the new Sam Cooke vinyl we can jam out to."

You grinned, trailing your finger along his lips. "Can we fuck again?"

His expression mirrored yours. "We are definitely fucking again. Don't have to be as quiet at mine, wanna hear how loud you get."

You rolled your hips, feeling his cock softening and his release beginning to trickle out of you. He hummed, squeezing you as if to warn you.

"Behave, sugar."

"But that's no fun."

He couldn't disagree with that. He checked the clock and knew there was only a slim window of time for you both to leave the studio without raising any brows.

"Come on." He slapped your ass. "Let's clean up and cut out."

You slipped into the bathroom, your legs shaky from how hard he'd taken you. You cleaned up, as he'd told you to. Your reflection in the mirror was a sight for sore eyes and you tried your best to look presentable and not freshly fucked.

As you entered the dressing room again and gathered your things. Harry had dressed in his more casual clothes, a pair of mint dress pants and a t-shirt, throwing his fur coat over his shoulders. He noticed the way you slipped on your dress and smoothed out your hair, touching up your lipstick. He approached you, wrapping his arms around you as you stood in front of the vanity.

"You know I'm just gonna get you all messy again, don't you?"

"I'm counting on it."

He smirked, kissing your neck and fisting the hem of that tiny dress. You pulled away, eyeing the time. You bent over, going to pick up your panties and frowning when he snatched them up before you could.

"Hey, I need those."

"What'd I say, hm? You'll get them back when you earn them." He slipped the blue lace in his pants pocket, straightening his fur coat and holding out his hand.

"Jerk." You walked towards him, nudging his hand away and leaving the dressing room. A showcase that the feisty dynamic between you was here to stay. The lights were off in the studio now, aside from a few dim ones high up on the walls. He scoffed, racing after you. He lagged behind a few steps, wanting to watch your legs as you walked. You turned, throwing him a dubious look and he smiled innocently as he was caught checking you out. "What are you-"

A gleam of a security guard's flashlight lit up the wall next to you. Harry swore, pulling you towards the exit before you were spotted. You wouldn't get in trouble per se, but being sneaky was so much more exciting than sticking around.

"Shit- let's haul ass, sugar. Wanna play with you all night."

The warmth and adoration he felt on stage, under those lights with every pair of eyes set on him. It was a dimmed sensation compared to how he felt with you. His sugar. Saccharine yet equally as fervent, gooey and thrilling and sticking to him as if magnetised to his cells.