#stylist!reader

[the-whispers-of-death]

When Actor! Stone finally worked up the courage to ask his stylist to put him in a dress for the upcoming event, they scoffed and sneered. Naturally, Kali fired them on the spot and introduced Stone to Stylist! Reader, who took one look at the huge, burly figure that is Stone and said “You would fucking rock a gown,” and immediately got to work hand-making a slutty dress with a slit on each side. 🫧

I at first thought the stylist in the beginning was Stylist!Reader and I got very scared and then I read the entire ask.

Actor!Stone would rock a gown, you're so right. He goes out to the event in the slutty gown you made him with Actor!Kali on his arm looking very dapper in the suit you made him. They sing your praises in the interviews, Kali twirls Stone around so the camera can see the gown from every angle.

You did such a great job that the media sings your praises in the news the next day, gushing about how well Stone and Kali looked in your clothes. And perhaps, your clientele goes up, every other celebrity wanting you to design their clothes for their next events.

[didyoulookforme]

need you tonight

part of give me a moment (aka stylist au as briefly described in this tag)

warning: 18+, smut. probably grammatical errors, typos.

au masterlist here

-----

“sorry—‘m sorry”

you’re pretty sure those are some of the only words that stumble past his lips as you go down on him. perhaps an apology for his ring getting tangled in your hair, trying to keep you close. but to be honest, the more cynical part of you hopes it's pure regret for fucking someone else just hours before.

it was not strange for you to crave a nicotine hit at this time, more often than not stepping out the bus to smoke a cigarette or two prior to calling it a night, that first inhale always making your head buzz a little as the all-too-familiar warmth runs through your limbs, a much welcome sensation to try leave the tiredness behind.

every day was like clockwork. bus arrives at the venue. stage and lighting are assembled. band soundchecks. you have a quick dinner. then it's time for him. after all, it's what you're here to do, work as matty's own personal stylist during the tour.

you had no clue luck had finally struck when you opened those dms earlier this year.

(13:43) trumanblack: hey (13:43) trumanblack: i found your profile via my friend (13:44) trumanblack: i really like your style n you look pretty cool

(13:58) trumanblack: sorry if this sounds creepy. promise i'm a real human tho (13:58) trumanblack: x

you didn’t recognize him. however from a swift scroll through the feed, you gathered that his name was matty. apparently the front man of a seemingly popular band with a fanbase head-over-heels lusting for them.

mostly him, though.

you couldn't help but gaze at his lanky frame and pale skin adorned with ink, zooming in on certain posts to try decipher what they were. he definitely had a point of view when it came to dressing himself—sometimes a bit messy and chaotic, but for the most part pleasing to the eye, a quality you appreciated given your line of work. his seemingly playful demeanour across photos made it seem like he was perhaps younger than you, this time a google search confirming that, in fact, he was born three years later. april 1989.

countless press photos appeared under his name and you spent the next half hour swiping back and forth between articles, finding him intriguing enough and giving you the surge of confidence to respond.

and that's basically why you're leaning against this tour bus now. the friendly banter with a stranger led you to travel the world and do what you enjoy most. the fancy clothes. the colourful glitz. the wild after parties. this stuff that you always dreamed about was somehow now your own reality that you often had to pinch yourself to ensure you weren't just passed out cold on the sofa back home.

however, this almost too good to be true gig also led you to fall for a guy, the same one whose collar you straighten almost every night.

the most fucking cliché story. some assistant falling for her boss just months after being hired. it actually makes you feel sickeningly stupid, embarrassed. still you can't seem to stop digging yourself deeper into a hole with every hour you spend caring for him, not being made any better by matty being nothing but affectionate towards you behind closed doors.

you know he’s the reason your nicotine addiction has increased tenfold, always finding yourself alone at this hour enveloped in smoke, part of you still wanting to pretend you do so to numb out the sleepless nights. took you a while to finally admit you did it as an attempt to cloud out any thought of him.

tonight’s really no different.

you’re not sure how much time has passed, but it’s enough for the cold to start settling on your skin. perhaps it’s your queue to stop and go back in. you snub out your cigarette, watching the red embers fade just as a car rounds the corner. it halts to a stop only a few meters away, and you catch the faint sound of a door creaking open, followed by the murmur of voices filling the night air.

then you hear it. that unmistakable high pitched laugh that can pull you awake in a single second. him.

and, of course. you immediately know why.

you’d learned pretty early on this was a common end to the routine: matty picks up a girl at the gig, goes fucks her somewhere, and has her drop him off right after.

reminds you of the number of red and purple bruises you often cover up before his show. it wasn't rocket science figuring out the cause, yet he never really addresses it, choosing silence and averting his gaze as your fingertips dab foundation on tender skin, temporarily hiding any remains of nights prior.

you didn't even notice your eyes had closed. not until the car door slams shut, jerking them open just in time to see him blow a kiss in her direction. your heart fractures at the sweet gesture, but only hurts for a second before he's walking towards you, his stupid wide grin mending it better.

"didn't expect to see you out here.”

open button-up untucked. blazer over his shoulder. dark curls frizzy and disheveled. everything making it crystal clear he's just slept with someone else and still not you.

"only making sure you make it back alright so i can tuck you in." of course, you wish that were the case.

it's only a few seconds until he settles next to you, leaning over to kiss your cheek. soft lips gently brushing against your skin. the way he always greets you—but only when no one's watching.

"aren't you sweet, then?"

"trying my best." given the circumstances, it's pretty much all you can do.

he pulls out his beat-up cigarette box, flicking it open and offering you one. you decline, showing him the smothered tip of your own before finally tossing it aside.

"guess it must've been a pretty good time today," you lick the pad of your thumb before rubbing a lipstick mark off his jaw. it’s always ruby red or deep maroon. those same tones which he'll compliment you on. a similar shade you left on his lips the only time your mouth had been on his.

you finish cleaning the stains off his skin, matty murmuring a soft ‘thank you’ for having done so. it’s your turn to kiss his temple. “‘tis my job, you know? making sure you look good.” you should be mad, upset, have some sort of negative emotion. instead, you can’t help but have your heart intermittently flutter when he returns a sheepish smile, his arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you close.

neither of you say much, but that’s alright. you rest your head on the crook of his neck, noticing how nice it feels. how nice he feels. you see the chipped nail polish on his fingers. the wrinkled fabric of his flowered shirt. the dark hair down his torso. the unbuckled belt at his waist. it’s only then that jealousy creeps itself back in and suddenly your shoes seem all that more interesting than the man standing by your side.

"why do you do it, matty?" the sweetness of your voice never fails to mask the envy you actually feel. or at least you hope it does.

"hmm?"

"the sleeping around.” you finally lift your head to look at him, surprised that his pretty eyes were already on you. the toothy smirk is gone, though, replaced by a thin, expressionless line at his lips. he doesn’t owe you an explanation. you know that. thus why you’re surprised when he actually starts to talk.

"dunno, really.” he lights up another cigarette and you notice as he gets lost in his mind. “i mean, it’s kinda difficult to say no to sex or a blowjob when they’re literally throwing themselves at you.” he seemingly tries to joke, but you don’t have time for funny right at this moment.

instead you wonder if it’s actually that easy.

“let me do it, then.”

“so—sorry?” he chokes mid-drag.

“let me give you a blowjob just like those other girls do. just like she did,” you point at the ghost of that green car from before, “ just tonight.”

it’s like his face cannot figure out which expression to land on, flipping between confusion, surprise, and something else that reads between need and desire.

“what the fuck?” his voice is shaky and it stings when he pushes you aside, yet, he doesn’t try hard to put much distance between you two so it’s not difficult to invade his space, standing right in front of him until your face is a breath away from his. large, calloused hands grasp your shoulders tight, halting you from inching closer.

“don’t.”

“what’s the difference between them and myself, then?�� seems like a simple enough question to you. “why can they have you and not me?”

but he has no answer, at least not one that he can properly voice. his hold on you starts to lessen, perhaps giving you some permission to let you do whatever you want.

you bring your hands up to his and pull them away, kissing his knuckles before placing them on your waist. an almost incoherent ‘fuck’ leaves his lips, and, as if on cue, his head falls back willingly, giving you the space to kiss his neck. the faint smell of her still on him.

“please let me,” you whisper against his skin.

it’s not even a question at this point.

his fingers dig into your hips as you look at him once more, now noticing a mixture of lust and care in those almond coloured eyes. for a minute there, you get lost in them, admiring how his pupils dilate when your hands find the button of his pants, and how they shrink back as you finally undo the zipper. you don’t want to waste any more time—you’ve already waited too long—so you slide your palm down his pants to grab his half-hard cock, his eyes instantly rolling to the back of his head when you wrap your fingers around him.

“is this okay?”

you take the buck of his hips as a confirmation, giving you the courage to spread the precum along his length. he feels nice. having him in your hand seems just right and you only hope that he won’t regret this when he wakes up next morning in bed.

tonight is your turn to suck on the skin alongside his jaw, the thought of having to cover your own marks making you smile.

“fuck, baby.”

you’re not sure if he even noticed that sweet name leave his mouth, but you like the sound of it, and it’s all it takes for you to drop to your knees, dragging his pants and boxers down just enough to pull out his dick.

you look up at him once more, his left hand coming to tangle on your head, his other loosely holding his cigarette, almost done and fully forgotten. you kiss his tip, your gaze still not leaving his, thoroughly enjoying yourself as he bites his bottom lip each time your thumb hits that spot under the head of his cock. his scent is almost too much to bear so you take him in one go, feeling his cock twitch inside your mouth. it doesn’t take long before he’s fully hard and hitting the back of your throat.

the plastic taste of latex is still on his skin. a sad reminder that you weren’t his first tonight. that maybe you are an afterthought. just another girl who he uses to make himself come. but at least it means you get to have him even if it’s just this one time.

matty. that’s all that’s on your mind. once again. somewhat difficult to not think about him when you’re sucking him off, those heavenly sounds coming from his mouth making your own slick drip down your leg.

you pull away to catch your breath, using your hand to keep stroking him, pleasantly surprised when he pulls on your hair each time your red fingernails graze the underside of his cock. you do it again and again until he breaks and fucks your hand, apologizing for not being able to help himself. it’s a sight you’ll commit to memory as long as you’re alive.

now that you’ve had a taste, it’s only so long you can go without having your lips around him. and that’s what you do, take him again, hands urging his hips to fuck your mouth. to fuck himself senseless in the hopes that you’ll be the one he turns to when he needs somebody else. he doesn’t deny your request, throwing away the wasted cigarette to guide you, setting a pace that allows him to stay steady on his feet.

purely drunk on him, you're barely aware when his phone vibrates in his pocket, matty muttering 'sorry' before grabbing and letting it drop onto the grass at your side. nosiness always gets the best of you, so you can't help but glance down, catching sight of a text from an unsaved number asking if he could fuck her again tomorrow.

you feel his hips falter. he knows you've seen it.

“’m sorry.”

this time it's a mix between a cry and a whimper. perhaps he did feel bad. perhaps some part of him did care about you in the way that you needed him to.

you reach back to place your hand on top of his, making him push your head further into him, to thrust into you until tears pool at your lashes just as he spills hard and fast down your throat. his taste overtakes every cell of your being as you swallow, feeling him soften against your tongue before you reluctantly pull away.

you didn’t even realize your knees were so sore until you stand up, not wasting a second to ask him is he's going to see her again the following night.

"do you want me to?" his thumb wipes away some of his cum off the corner of your lip. you reach out to suck it, slowly shaking your head in response.

he laughs nervously as his mouth clashes against yours, stealing both the air from your lungs. this wasn't the first time you’d kissed, but this wasn’t like before. the way he quietly moans against your lips. the softness of his fingers resting on your face. the crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he pulls back.

"can i see you tomorrow, then?"

you could’ve sworn you heart stopped. can you truly believe those words after watching him leave you behind all those nights? the soft circles his thumbs draw on your skin do feel sincere, the reassurance you need to perhaps let him in, give him a chance even though you know it’s a slippery one.

it’s your turn to brush your thumb against his mouth, slowly pulling at the bottom lip and watching it bounce back up into place. you kiss him one last time before confirming 'okay', immediately turning to finally head back in. not wanting to linger for too long in case he changes his mind.

you catch his reflection on the mirror, noticing as he tucks himself in, and it’s that slight smile on his face which keeps you awake for hours on end.

-----

for this lovely anon here. thank you for the inspo :) <3

[your-nanas-house]

Cillian x stylist!reader (bonus points if it comes with age gap 👉👈)

Really loved this Pairing! Sorry if it took me so long. 🙇🏼‍♀️

Imagine Cillian having Y/n as his stylist

◇ Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Stylist!Reader

◇ Warnings: age gap (both off age), drinking, business, cheese (?), fluff

◇ Summary: Y/n calls Cillian in the middle of the night to show him a new 'creation' of hers.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English.

"Thanks for coming, Cillian. I got this pieces that screamed just three things... ireland, Cillian and old-ish. And I couldn't wait to show you" the young woman informed as she kept walking quickly to her studio followed by the famous irish actor Cillian Murphy.

She had took her father's place as the older actor's stylist since some years now and had been lucky enough to be that close that she could call him at 2am and receive an actuall answered.

"Ireland, Cillian and old-ish?" The man repeated bit amused but yet confused, not understanding if he should take it as a compliment or as an insult

"And this couldn't have waited at all. You called me asking me to be here as soon as I could to show me some clothes?" He asked, his tone bit harsher than intended... not that Y/n minded, though.

She was used at worse.

"Of course not, Cilly. I have two beers in the fridge and some cheese I want you to try. It's from France" she informed him with a grin as she opened the door and switched on the lights to show him the outfit he would wear in some weeks

"There it is.... it just screams, am I right?" She asked again making Cillian's poker face drop, a laugh breaking the silence

"If you say so, darling. I like it, though" he nodded inspecting it casually with a slightly smile

"It will fit you perfectly, it matches your salt-pepper hair and your eyes" her voice informed him from another room since she had left her 'work room' to get the beers as soon as Cillian had moved to check the outfit and the fabric.

"Dad isn't so sure but I would bet on it. You look good in lots of things but this kind of style is just heaven to see on you" her praise made the older actor chuckle under his breath and take a big sip from the cheap beer before following her back to her living room.

They both sat close to each other, chatting about absolute nothing while enjoying the cheese, the beer, their company and... the time (2am) was suddenly forgotten.

[lovecanyon]

HARRY X STYLIST!Y/N INSTAGRAM BLURB

MASTERLIST | PATREON

-

liked by harrystyles, mitchrowland and 201,749 others

yourinstagram mrs. styles (me) looking like a proud mom.

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harryfan6 I AM CRYING AND THROWING UP

harryfan10 knowing anne took this photo of y/n makes me 🥲

harrystyles Forever my pretty girl.

yourinstagram i love you sue!

harryfan8 A LITERAL POWER COUPLE

harryfan11 everyone’s mom and dad 💕

pillowpersonpp Truly the most gorgeous woman on earth xx

harryfan4 y/n is the most supportive wife ever

kidharpoon How many bracelets did you get from fans?

yourinstagram my left and right arm is covered! don’t be jealous! 🤭

liked by harryfan12, harryfan15 and 162,820 others

harryflorals “My wife and daughter are here tonight so let’s give them a round of applause. Let them know how loved they are.” HARRY ON STAGE TONIGHT TALKING ABOUT Y/N AND JULIET!

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harryfan18 he’s forever a family man 😭

harryfan14 JULIET MY FAVORITE NEPO BABY

harryfan16 she is going to get us the one direction reunion we all need

harryfan20 this is so cute omg

harryfan13 juliet needs a sister or brother…or something

harryfan19 harry deserves another child!!!

harryfan11 him being down bad for y/n needs to be studied 🙏

harryfan17 i’m getting hysterical over this

harryfan21 you can tell harry loves his family so much, i’m sobbing

harryfan23 I NEED HIM BADDDD

liked by harryfan24, harryfan27 and 201,639 others

stylesdaily Y/N AND JULIET OUT IN LONDON THIS MORNING!

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harryfan28 BEST MOM AND DAUGHTER DO

harryfan29 i just know juliet has that post concert depression

harryfan25 YOU ARE SO 😭😭

harryfan30 the life i need

harryfan22 okay but imagine being harry styles’ daughter…

harryfan33 juliet is our style icon

harryfan36 they are slaying

harryfan31 going to have myself reborn at the next styles child

harryfan34 the realest thing anyone has said 💯

liked by yourinstagram, gemmastyles and 4,902,482 others

harrystyles Love On Tour. London ll. June, 2023.

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harryfan41 THE PHOTO OF Y/N??? I’M GOING INSANEEE

harryfan48 why is this so adorable 😭

yourinstagram i love you forever!

harrystyles I love you for infinity!

harryfan40 losing my shit over this

harryfan46 they are never breaking up, that’s just the truth 😩

mitchrowland My wine buddy 🍷🍷

harryfan49 need a man to me obsessed with me like this

anthonypham Two of the best people ever

harryfan42 not getting over this anytime soon

liked by harrystyles, jefezoff and 6,127,669 others

yourinstagram can’t believe i’m spending the rest of my life with my best friend

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harryfan52 crying over the caption

harryfan58 Y/N AND HARRY BESTIES!!! YUPPP

harrystyles I love every moment with you.

yourinstagram don’t make me cry

harryfan51 LMAOO ME

harryfan55 harry and y/n’s love is so goddamn strong 😭

gemmastyles So sweet ❤️❤️ I love you three

harryfan53 julet wearing old merch is so real

pillowpersonpp Your story is truly a fairytale!

harryfan59 y/n wins at life officially

yourinstagram via stories

-

tag list: @harrysmatcha @harryspinkpillow @helen-with-an-a @florencepughily @peterparkerbae @toji-dabi-wife @fallonx @drphilssoulmate @cherriesrae @alienorknight @valluvsu @ayeshathestyles @hazgoldenstyles @eiffelmezarry @tsukishimawhore @renatavieira @michellekstyles @eleanordaisy @shawnsblue @agustdpeach @hannahnikohl @whoscamila @ch3rryrry @msolbesg @seguin-styles1996 @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @youusunshineyoutemptress @kaitieskidmore1 @cherryfragrancx @ssuziess @milkiane @golden-hoax @flwrmuse @sunshinemendes8 @your--sweetest--downfall @melllinaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cashtons-wife @stellarossii @scenesofobx @manifestrry @lomlolivia @b-reads-things

[introspectivememories]

tim is the ceo of wayne ent. and therefore makes the most money in the relationship and i just know bernard "obessed with shitty wattpad fics" dowd, laughs every time he sends tim off to work. just laughing to himself in the kitchen saying, "i married the billionaire ceo?!"

[yawnzshit]

why do all white boys got through the as I call it 'fried hair' phase like pls bring back long hair or even buzzcut drew 😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩

AND ALSO NICK?? like pls bring his messy hair backkkkk 😩😩😩😩

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Outdrawn

f/f contemporary romance

two cartoonist who’ve been rivals since uni, and now have competing webcomics online, have to work together on the relaunch of a cult classic at the comic press they both work at

they both struggle with art-related physical and mental health issues, and complicated families

[be-with-me-so-happily]

hows my babies doing??? i miss themmmm <3

Eeeeek! It makes me so happy when someone misses and asks about EWTNC Harry and Stylist YN! I love them so much! So here's a little update.

~~~~~

Photo credits to the owners.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY

Harry hears the bedroom door creak open, keeping his eyes closed and pretending to still be asleep. He can hear the giggles getting closer, and feels the bed shift as two little bodies try to subtly crawl up on top.

"Quietly, okay?" You whisper. "One... two... th-"

"Happy Birthday, Daddy!"

"Hap Bir-day, Daddy!"

Harry pops up in the bed, and turns over to see Winnie grinning, Milo picking at a booger, and you holding a cup of tea, and placing it on the bedside table next to him.

"My goodness! Thank you, my loves!" He exclaims. He grabs both of his children into his arms and tackles them on the bed, causing a burst of laughter.

"Ah! Daddy! No!" Winnie exclaims, her eyes squeezed shut and her smile stretching across her face.

You can't help but feel your chest fill with warmth as you watch them all interact. Doesn't matter what they're doing, if it's together, you always feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude and joy.

"Alright you three, time to get up."

"No…" Harry whines, quickly matched by the children.

"Okay, I guess I'll just head to the kitchen and eat all of the delicious birthday breakfast by myself then." You state, slowly turning around as you pretend that your intention is to walk away.

"Oh no you don't!" You hear behind you, as you feel Harry grasp your wrist, twisting you around and pulling you onto the bed. Winnie and Milo quickly pounce, using their little fingers and giving their best efforts to tickle your sides. You glance over to Harry, being met with a look of pure admiration, and he gives you a sweet smile.

"You win! I surrender!" You throw up your hands and they maneuver off you, giggling at their victory. "How about we have that breakfast now."

Winnie and Milo hop off the bed, and you watch as they shuffle out of the room. You turn back to Harry, who still has that same beautiful look on his face, and you sit up on top of the sheets.

"Happy Birthday, Rockstar." You reach your hand up to his cheek and lean in for a kiss. "Who would have thought that the boy in bandanas would be a husband and dad at twenty-nine! Feel old yet?"

"No, just lucky."

A blush forms on your cheeks and you still don't understand how he can manage to do that to you, after over eight years of being with him.

"Alright, you sap, let's get out of bed before they make a mess."

You grab his hand to pull him up off the bed, but he lets out a low growl, pulling you back down and shifting his body to hover over you.

His short curls fall into his face, his necklaces hang down in front of you, and his lips meet your neck. That same spot that he knows so well.

"Maybe later we can get back into bed and make a mess of our own."

"You need to-" You take a quick breath, as he seems to have taken it out of you. "You need to focus. You've got a show to put on tonight."

"Oh, I can definitely give you a show."

"Harry!" You exclaim with a chuckle, weakly attempting to push him off of you, though not much of your strength is put behind your effort.

"It's my birthday…" He replies, lowering his entire body onto yours, and you wish you could give him exactly wants. And, frankly, what he deserves. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling his face closer for a deep, passionate, and lustful kiss, causing him to let out that low growl once again.

One of his hands squeezes your hip, pressing his own into you, and you let out a quiet moan. At this point, you don't care how the kitchen looks, you just want to look at him, like this.

However, you both pull apart as soon as you hear a little yelp from Milo and Winnie instantly telling him that she is sorry. You sigh, feeling the heat between your legs and the bulge between Harry's. He gives you one last, quick kiss and then moves off of you.

You scoot off of the bed and swiftly turn around, meeting his gaze, showing that he hadn't taken his eyes off of you.

"To be continued." You quietly tease, and his eyes widen along with a grin.

"Well, Happy Birthday to me!"

~~~~~

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"You don't like it?" He dramatically hits his palm against his chest as his mouth drops open, knowing full well that you love his outfit, considering the way your eyes are traveling up and down his body. "Winnie helped pick it out. I think she's following in her mummy's footsteps."

"Mhm." You hum, still running your gaze all over his body, focusing on his bare, toned, tattooed chest, that you wish you could lick all over.

"Sunshine, I've worn stuff like this before…" Harry chuckles, stepping forward and placing his hands on your hips.

"I know. There's just something about it tonight…" You reply, letting out a breath you didn't even realize you had been holding. Even after all of this time, after the thousands of outfits you've seen him in, and styled him in, he still somehow manages to take your breath away. You look up to him, placing your hands on his chest and running them down his smooth skin. "But… I have to say… I do prefer you in your birthday suit."

"Fucking hell, YN." He whimpers, leaning down to take your bottom lip between his teeth. "Already ripped one pair of pants on stage… I'm not 'bout to go out there with m'dick standing straight out!"

"Right… it's a family show…" You smirk, leaning up to place a kiss on his earlobe. "But it won't be tonight."

"Oh my god." He mumbles under his breath.

"Daddy! Daddy!" You suddenly hear Winnie's little voice coming from the hallway and Harry gives you a quick kiss on the lips before stepping back and swiftly adjusting himself. Then he looks over and gives you a smile with so many meanings. Lust, adoration, maybe a little disappointment, but also happiness in its purest form.

"I love you, Sunshine." He utters.

"I love you too, Rockstar."

Winnie comes through the doorway, rushing over to the two of you, with Milo trying to keep up behind her. "Look what Milo found for you!"

Milo moves in front of his sister, with his hands in front of him, holding the blue balloon that the two of you clearly spotted as soon as he walked in.

"This is for me, Bub?" Harry asks, kneeling down to his son, who hands him the string.

"Ba-woon, Daddy!"

"It's for your birthday!" Winnie squeals, with just as much excitement as Milo, showing off some pride for her younger brother.

"Thank you, darlings! I love it!" Harry expressed, with a smile as wide as theirs, and his heart full of joy. He looks up to you, smiling with all the love he can portray through just an expression, and then wraps Winnie and Milo into a big hug. "And I know exactly what m'gonna do with it."

~~~~~

Series Masterlist

~~~~~

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If your name is blue, I couldn't tag you.

[becca-e-barnes]

Hiii I have nothing to do at work so of course I have to day dream about different dark!Bucky scenarios (I do not condone cheating but this is really hot to me aaaa)😩 like imagine your husband and Bucky have always had an ongoing rivalry, They worked together, went to college together, hated every ounce of each other. One night you’re at the bar with your friends when Bucky comes over to you and buys you drink after drink after drink, taking you back to his house. He’s throwing you on his bed and ripping your clothes off, kissing you hungrily. “Get ready baby, this is gonna be much tougher than you’re used to.” “Please.” “Yeah? Is he not satisfying you baby? This pretty pussy deserves to be treated right, luckily I’m here now.” He’s so rough with you, fucking you harshly, the dirty talking is driving you crazy. He’s so cocky and cruel, bending you in several different positions and pounding into you for hours. If only you had seen the camera… (part 2??? Bucky making your husband watch the video 😭) -💒

This, a thousand times over 😵‍💫 and I can just imagine throwing all the stuff at him that you wouldn't dream of doing with your husband. Maybe your husband really doesn't let you explore your fantasies and if you've got one chance to do that, you're determined to take it.

Especially if Bucky is quite a bit rougher than you're used to while still being so respectful. He got the impression that you're not being fucked how you want to be and he wants to give you everything you dream of when you touch yourself. He's not necessarily rough with you because he wants to be. He's rough because that's what you want.

If he's feeling extra filthy too, he'd fuck you in the bed you share with your husband. You're on your hands and knees on the bed, presenting your glistening pussy to him, enjoying the sensation of him smearing your arousal over the tip of his cock.

"Fuck, do you know how bad I want this?" He hums quietly, trailing his leaking tip over your slick folds. "Do you know how badly I want to press inside you? You've made such a mess. Bet you feel like fuckin' Heaven and he doesn't even appreciate it."

With his free hand, Bucky grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing just enough that you feel it hurt.

"Don't want to rush this though." His tip lines up with your entrance, teasing the little fluttering hole and God, you're desperate. "I want to take my time. Want to make sure every time your head hits this pillow, you remember how it feels to have every. Last. Inch of me slip inside you."

You can't have him wait any longer though so you press your hips back onto him, feeling just the tip slide into you. "Good girl, that's it. Fuck yourself on me. You need this, don't you? You need to be fucked right for a change."

He's not wrong. You couldn't stop now, even if you wanted to so you keep going, taking all of him. The weight of him inside you is delightful.

"Oh God, you're perfect. You feel like you were made for me." He doesn't dare move. Instead, he takes a second to just enjoy the wet heat of your body and the snug fit of you around his cock.

"You are. A fucking. Dream." He tests the water with a few shallow thrusts, rutting his tip against the sweet spot inside you. You're so wet, you're convinced you must be dripping onto the sheets and your eyes roll back in your head at the very thought.

This is how sex is supposed to feel. You didn't think you could crave anyone the way you do now. "Buck, please." You whimper, rolling your hips back against him, pressing him as deep inside you as possible. "Don't be gentle."

You hear him groan and feel his fingertips trail down your spine, making you arch your back into the bed. "Is that what you need, sweetheart? Can tell just by looking at you that you need it hard and fast and rough tonight. I'll be gentle with you tomorrow morning, I promise. Gotta work some of that tension out of you first. Bet you haven't cum in months."

You don't like that he can tell so easily but you're not surprised either. The first sharp thrust knocks the air from your lungs but all you hear is a pathetic sob, followed by the crack of a hard spank to your ass and the blossoming, stinging pain he's inflicted.

You're not surprised that it only makes you wetter.

[ynnova]

ateez | grand mint festival 2024

inspired by ateezjuliet

[kachowden]

Yandere! Fem! Hairstylist x GN!Reader

terms such as “Pretty & Beautiful” used to describe the reader

—————————————————————

Pink and purple coffin nails tapped rhythmically against the granite counter top. Chewing gum popped, her favorite flavor, accompanied the beat of her pretty acrylics.

It was a slow day. She didn’t mind much though. No, not when she had such an important guest coming to visit. Her favorite customer. <3

Not someone famous. Not a model nor a singer. Just a sweet pet shop owner, with the prettiest eyes she had every seen.

She often begged to do the customers makeup. Such pretty eyes would look wonderful with a splash of color on their sweet pretty skin. But she wasn’t pushy, and her darling customer always declined.

“I wouldn’t want your work to be wasted on me. The animals will smear it within an hour anyway.”

But her work could never be wasted on you! Didn’t you know that? Others sure, but never you! She laughed it off though. In favor of finishing your hair cut.

Moments like this were where she loved her job so dearly. Getting to touch you, and hear you talk about your day as if you to were just lovers enjoying each others company. So what if her hands lingered too long? You wouldn’t notice. You wouldn’t know.

Your head was always in the clouds. You were so beautiful that way. Your eyes always misted. Like you were looking through her. You day dreamed so often that she often wondered how you ever got work done.

Though maybe your dreamlike personality was what soothed the animals. What brought people in.

She wished though, at times you would look at her. That through your foggy mind you would come to her. Dream of her, the way she so often dreamed of you.

Perhaps someday. Not today though. Another. Just not today. The thought made her nervous. So not today, but soon. Very soon.

She loved to run her fingers through your hair, once or twice. Maybe three times. She knew you liked it. The feelings of her nails scraping softly against your scalp.

She’d offered you a facial. A massage. You denied her though as you always did.

“I’d hate to take up your time.”

You were too sweet. Too considerate. She loved that about you. She hated it to though. She wouldn’t mind if you were selfish with her.

The sound of her special bells rang softly in the air, signifying the arrival of her dear customer.

Her perfect glossy pink lips curved into a sugary smile at the sight of your haggard form.

You were just too sweet. <3

“Same as usual?”

“Actually. Can I take you up on that facial? If it’s alright with you?”

…..perhaps today could be the day.

[danisbrainrot]

supermodel

tigris x reader

tw: smoking, drugs, alcohol, implied/mentioned ed, coriolanus is his own tag, (maybe a slight) power imbalance where tigris is a stylist and reader is her model (I don't know how modelling works LMFAO).

I'm purely using information I learnt from ugly betty; the title may or may not be inspired by a certain måneskin song.

you drag on your cigarette, watching the puff of smoke vanish in the afternoon air. you were waiting patiently outside as your stylist, tigris, added last minute modifications to your outfit. you'd gotten there early in the morning like she requested and you thought the photo shoot was going good, until you almost broke the shirt—her assistant struggled to zip it up. it didn't matter how tigris insisted it was her fault for not getting the correct measurements, your stomach dropped as you realise that you hadn't lost enough weight.

it was a miracle you'd managed to book this gig at all. tigris was an elusive stylist—the cousin of the president himself—and your modelling career was still in its infancy. you wonder what's taking her so long; your cigarette butt the only part still left. you groan, flicking it on the ground and stomping on it, before knocking on the door.

tigris opens it, apologising profusely for keeping you waiting, before she welcomes you back inside. you smiled tightly at her, trying to conceal the insecurity coursing through you. she directed you behind the divider and began to personally assist you, the zip sliding up smoothly. "there we go," she mumbles, a proud smile on her face.

the photographer had you try a few poses, but it seemed whatever you did it wasn't working—the angles were too unflattering, the lighting too harsh or your expression looked pained. you felt nervous, knowing how desperately you needed this gig, how it would shoot you into stardom.

tigris, noticing how anxious you were, pulls you aside. "are you okay?" she asks, placing a comforting arm on your shoulder. "it's not your fault, I promise," but you shake your head.

"it is. I'm not good enough," you reply, holding back the tears threatening to explode. she sighs softly, embracing you tightly.

she pulls away, staring directly in your eyes. "I chose you. I think you're exactly right for this photo shoot. for my clothes," she whispers, smiling reassuringly at you. you return the smile, your heart beat quickening—you couldn't help but admire the woman; you also felt a warmth in your stomach. the beginnings of a crush was forming.

"thank you," you blush softly. you tuck your hair behind your ears, a newfound confidence filling you as you step out back in front of the camera.

the rest of the day went by fast, as you struck pose after pose, leaving tigris cheering and clapping and the photographer calling out praises. you could hardly contain your infectious laughter, filling the room with joy.

after the shoot, tigris invites you back to her apartment. she offers you wine, champagne, all kinds of alcoholic beverages, while showing you more sketches she designed just for you. you don't know how she knew about you, or why she picked you, but you were eternally grateful.

it was a massive commercial success; tigris was receiving huge praise for her new line and your agent couldn't put the phone down. everyone who was anyone wanted to book you. however, you always made time for tigris—after all, she made you famous.

you had been invited to an exclusive party, for the elite of the capitol, in the president's mansion. you have no idea how, but you suspected it had something to do with the fact his cousin was obsessed with you. it was hard not to be, when you were the covergirl of nearly every magazine.

anxiously, you snorted a line of cocaine in the car, feeling the familiar buzz bring you to life. it was a typical occurrence that you were the life of the party. there wasn't a song you couldn't dance to, a silence you couldn't fill and a party you couldn't liven up.

alcohol was shoved in your face everywhere you went —it was rude to reject it, you concluded, so you gladly drank every drink offered to you. noticing how fancy everyone was dressed, you felt almost out of place in your mini dress and high heels. tigris had designed it specifically for you, however, so you couldn't not wear it. she designs most of your wardrobe, now that you thought about it.

you were conversing with some important gamemaker when tigris intercepted you, wanting to introduce you to her cousin and his wife. you smile politely, shaking hands with president snow before kissing his wife livia on the cheeks. tigris began gushing about how wonderful of a model you were, and that she was proud to have discovered you. you couldn't help but feel your stomach churn as the president eyed you up and down.

as an avox walked past, you grabbed a glass of the finest panem wine and almost downed it immediately. tigris eyed you warily, worrying about how quickly the alcohol was flowing through you. livia, noticing her husband's gaze, scowls and excuses the two of them—heading in an old academy friend's direction instead.

"are you okay?" tigris asked, taking a hold of your hand and stroking it with her thumb soothingly. "livia and coriolanus can be cold, I understand—"

"no it's not that," you lie, smiling your million dollar smile. "just feeling a bit weird, that's all." in reality, you felt yourself coming down.

you head to the bathroom and do another line, waiting for that delicious buzz to hit. the door opens suddenly, and you look up in shock to see tigris' face fall. "oh no, not you too," she sighs, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you elsewhere.

stumbling over your feet, you let her lead you to a guest room in the president's mansion. she sits you on the bed, forcing water down your throat—she also begged you to eat something, but you refused; her pleas falling on deaf ears. you couldn't afford to put any weight on as you had too many gigs lined up.

it hurt her seeing you this vulnerable. you had passed out on the bed, your hair a mess, your makeup smudged and reeking of alcohol. she sighs, sitting next to you and brushing the hair of your sweaty face. she leaned down hesitantly, unable to help herself, before pressing a soft kiss on your lips.

she scolds herself for taking advantage of you, getting up to leave when she hears you stir. "please don't leave me alone," you whimper. she turns to face you, smiling reassuringly.

"don't worry, I'll stay right here," she promises, holding your hand.

when you woke up the following morning, your head pounded and all details from last night were muggy. the only memory was of soft lips pressed against your own.

you groaned, holding your head in pain before getting up. you found the toilet, sticking your head in it and emptying last night's dinner. you almost jump in shock when you feel someone hold your hair back, rubbing their hand up and down your back soothingly.

"you're okay," tigris affirms, holding you in her arms as you cry softly. sobbing into her chest, she rests her chin against your head, her grip on you firm and comforting.

"I hate how out of control I get," you sob, sniffling as you pull away from her.

she sighs, wiping your tears away with her thumbs. "I'll help you, I promise," she squeezes your hands reassuringly.

"did you kiss me last night?" you blurt out. you'd been dying to know ever since you realised it was her hand rubbing your back as you vomited.

tigris cheeks turn a deep scarlet, as she grows flustered and tries to come up with an explanation. "i-um, im so sorry I shouldn't—"

you interrupt her, "it's fine if you did. I just kind of wish you did it when I was sober," you tease, a soft smirk appears on your face. she bites her lip and avoids your gaze in embarrassment.

"are you sober now?" she asks, refusing to meet your eyes.

you laugh, shaking your head—mostly in disbelief. "I've got vomit breath," you reply.

"I don't mind," tigris whispers, suddenly looking at you lovingly.

you pause, your breath catching on your throat as you process what she said. it's your turn to blush, as she leans in slowly. you get up, however, scouring the cabinet and finding mouthwash. tigris giggles as you swish, gargle and rinse your mouth.

"now I'm ready," you exclaim, as she stands up. awkwardly you crash into her, placing one hand on her hip and the other on the back of her head. she laughs, wrapping both her arms around your waist and kisses you back passionately.

you throw yourself into the kiss, finally letting go and enjoying it—you've wanted to kiss her ever since she'd been so understanding and caring on your first photoshoot. it was actually mortifying hiding your huge crush on her. now that you had her, you'd be sure to enjoy the blissful moment with her.

[fateisnotafactor]

My friend beta-reading my fics:

[image: a poorly drawn character saying “I would like to buy a verb”]

@siegeofthedork

[lovecanyon]

STYLIST!Y/N GRAMMY BLURB!

MASTERLIST | PATREON

Y/N couldn't believe her luck as she walked arm-in-arm with her husband, Harry Styles, towards the red carpet of the 65th Annual Grammy Awards.

While she took in the sights and sounds of the most prestigious music event in the industry, she couldn't help but feel proud of the role she played in preparing her husband for his big night.

As Harry's personal stylist, Y/N had worked tirelessly to create the perfect ensemble for him to wear when he took the stage to perform his latest hit song. As they made their way down the red carpet, cameras flashed and fans screamed Harry's name. But Y/N's attention was focused on their ten year old daughter, Juliet.

She looked beautiful in her little black dress, which Y/N had carefully chosen and accessorized for her. Being able to share this special moment with her family made Y/N feel incredibly grateful.

Once inside, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the grandeur of the event. Everywhere she looked, she saw music legends and industry heavyweights.

But as Harry's performance drew nearer, her focus shifted once again. She made sure that he was looking sharp and feeling confident before he took the stage.

As Harry's performance began, Y/N felt her heart swell with pride. She couldn't believe how far he had come since they first met on the set of The X Factor. Now, here he was, performing at one of the most prestigious music events in the world.

Y/N knew that her role in his success was small but she couldn't be happier to support him in whatever way she could.

When it was Harry's turn to accept an award, Juliet was jumping up and down with excitement. Y/N held her hand tightly as they made their way to the stage, feeling like the proudest wife and mother in the world. Harry gave a heartfelt speech, thanking his fans and family, including Y/N for always keeping him looking sharp. Juliet couldn't stop clapping and cheering for her dad.

Throughout the night, Y/N and Harry were constantly being approached by fans and reporters alike, but they made sure to keep Juliet close and protected from the crowds.

Juliet, on the other hand, thrived on the attention and was more than happy to snap some pictures with fans and even some of the other celebrity kids in attendance.

After the show, Y/N and her family joined the after-party. She mingled with other stylists and industry professionals while Harry and Juliet danced the night away.

As they left the party, Y/N looked back at her family with a sense of contentment. She was proud of everything that they had accomplished together and couldn't wait to see what the future held for them.

-

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[oldtestleper]

nothing more annoying than not knowing if a writing tic of yours comes from literature or from fanfiction

[gothsuguru]

just read the most niche for me suguru fic oh i’m feral