#ugh the designs were just so fire | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

watchmegetobsessed · 7 months ago

Text

WING IT

A/N: we are slowly getting more content, lets just hope something drops soon!

WORD COUNT: 3k

SUMMARY: It's your first day working in Selma's Home, you're nervous enough already, but when an emergency calls your boss away and you're left alone, the situation is topped when famous CEO Harry Styles casually strolls in.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

It doesn’t matter that this job is just an in-between. Something that earns you money until your dream position opens. A first day is always stressful, especially when you have no idea what to do.

You were applying to dozens of jobs at once, just shooting everywhere you could, hoping to get an answer back before your rent was due. Selma’s Home was the first one to invite you for an interview and somehow, miraculously you even got the job despite the fact that you have no experience in retail. You suspect that desperation was a big factor in your hiring, because Selma lost 2 of her employees at once when the young couple that was working for her moved across the country.

Now here you are, walking into the store, nervously fidgeting with your fingers as you head down the aisles where you see Selma behind the cash register already getting ready to open.

“Hi!” you greet her, her head snapping up at your weak voice. Selma is such a fierce, kind of intimidating woman, but you can see how it helped her to open this store and make it one of the most successful home decor stores in the city, offering tasteful stylish pieces along with practical utility items for one’s home.

“Oh, hi! Welcome to your first day, you ready?” She even cracks a smile, but somehow it just makes you gulp hard.

“Yeah, readier than ever!” you manage to squeeze out a nervous chuckle, hoping she doesn’t sense your jitters.

“Alright, then let’s get started.”

With an hour until opening Selma is eager to squeeze in as much information into it as possible. She walks you through the store, talking about the most important items, but also handing you a handbook about everything that’s currently selling in the store.

“Use your downtime to roam around and you’ll learn them by the end of the week without the handbook,” she says, eyes running over the shelves as she is talking, already moving to the storage room in the back.

She talks about the system, how to unload the new arrivals every two weeks and then you move on to the cash register, aka your biggest fear. It’s quite the stress factor to deal with money, making sure everything is neat and correct, you can only hope you won’t mess it all up.

Then the store opens and you follow around Selma to learn the ropes. What’s different here is that whenever a customer comes in you offer them help right away and if needed, you assist them throughout their whole time shopping. There are quite some designer products selling and you’ll need to know everything about them to be able to sell them to the customers just like Selma does.

She is so good at it. No matter who comes in, she so effortlessly talks them into leaving with not only what they came for, but some more as well. She is enchanting, nice, open and warm and you just keep taking notes mentally, though you don’t feel confident enough to be as charming as she can be the moment the bell rings above the door.

When lunch rolls around you allow yourself to feel relieved for a second that you survived half the day already. Selma sends you to the back to have your lunch and you just sit in silence, staring ahead of you, mustering up all your energy for the rest of the workday. You’ve just finished your sandwich when Selma barges into the breakroom.

“Y/N, there’s a bit of an emergency.”

You jump to your feet, scenarios already running through your mind. Is there a fire? Did the storefront just collapse? Someone stole those hella expensive Japanese tablecloths?

“What happened?”

“My daughter, she is ugh! Such a menace, she got into trouble at school, so I have to go there. I need you to cover for a bit, just an hour tops, I swear!”

She is already grabbing her purse, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head, car keys in hand while you just stand there dumbfounded. Is she actually gonna leave you alone in the store on your first day?

“Selma, I-I don’t…”

“You do, Honey. Just an hour. This is a dead time anyway, if anyone comes in, just try your best to help them and ring them up at the end. Easy, I know you can do it!”

She is storming out and you follow her like a lost puppy.

“B-But what if I mess something up?” you ask, panic setting in.

“As long as you don’t set the store on fire, you’ll be fine. I trust you, Y/N!”

And with that, she is already gone, the bell rings above the door as you stand there like a statue.

You watch the storefront in pure panic, your stomach dropping every time it seems like someone is approaching the shop, but no one comes in.

Until the bell rings above the door.

For a split second you hope it’s Selma, but looking up you see a tall, broad figure and your heart threatens to burst right out of your anxiety filled chest, at first because hello! It’s a customer! But then as he steps further into the shop and takes off his sunglasses, realization settles in.

This is not just a regular customer, this is Harry Fucking Styles, CEO of Pleasing Productions, the studio that’s given the world the absolute best romantic movies in the past decades and the man is famously known for being a ladies favorite, but appearing as a total mystery in the media.

You’ve read about him a lot before, it’s hard not to bump into his name online, thanks to his looks he is always somehow in talk for either having dinner with a model, appearing on the red carpet looking like a fucking snack, or, your personaly favorite, declining giving an answer to a question regarding his private life.

And now he is standing there, looking around the store.

It takes a couple of moments for you to push out of this frozen state and finally step forward.

“Hello!”

Wow. Did your voice actually sound like that?

Clearing your throat you keep moving towards him.

“Hi, can I help you with anything?”

You try to rake your mind to remember everything you’ve seen and heard from Selma to use now, but the moment he looks up, your mind goes blank. He is just as beautiful as he looks in pictures or maybe even more. Unlike on those red carpet photos where he is always dressed in designer suits, now he is wearing a pair of simple pants and a gray long sleeve, his hair is a bit tousled and it appears he is growing his beard out, a bit shaggy, but he makes it look very… hot. That’s all you can say looking at him.

“Oh, hey!” He is sporting a polite smile as he looks up, about to keep talking, but he stops for a moment upon looking at you and he stops.

Everything stops.

It’s as if he is taking you in, you can feel your cheeks heating up, the nervous fidgeting starts again, but you hide your hands behind your back so he doesn’t notice.

“I’m looking for some kitchen stuff,” he then says, hiding his hands in his pockets.

“Great!” you breathe out. “We do have… those.”

You flinch internally, but ignore just how awkward you are in his presence.

You ask him about what he needs specifically as the two of you start walking down the isles and for a moment you think of grabbing the handbook, but that would look awful, so you make a decision on the spot.

You’re gonna just wing it.

What could go wrong? You’ll just pretend like you’re Selma, confident and know everything about the items, you’re gonna say whatever comes to your mind and just… wing it.

All while ignoring how attractive this man is up close. And intimidating. And charming. And…

“I think I want to check out the coffee stuff first,” he suggests and nodding you walk him over to the kitchen items.

“Do you have a coffee machine and you’re looking for some accessories, or…”

“I just got one of those old fashioned moka coffee pots,” he says with a boyish smile. “But I want to get that to the next level, if you know what I mean.” You do not.

“Of course,” you smile, eyes scanning over the shelves.

Your grandmother has one of those old moka coffee makers, but you have absolutely no idea what else could be used for those, so you just start grabbing things and making up what they are used for.

One after the other, you just keep showing him stuff with no idea what you’re talking about, but the longer you’re talking the more confident you’re growing, especially when he just keeps nodding and humming along to anything you say.

“So… which one are you more interested in?” you ask at the end of your little speech. You look at him and find him already looking at you with a tiny smile curling up the corners of his mouth.

“What can you tell me about those?” he asks, ignoring your question and just moving to another shelf.

He keeps asking about items and you just make up everything as you go. Of course, you know some of the stuff, but you were never really a true chef in the kitchen, so there are way too many items you don’t know that much, but somehow, you’ve gathered enough confidence that even you believe what you say.

Slowly, Harry fills his basket as you move through the store and every time you look at him you catch him already looking at you with the same smile you can’t quite decipher.

“What about those?” he points up at a set of plates on the top shelf.

“Oh, those are so pretty! Let me show you them!” you enthuse and run to grab the ladder from the back.

It’s not the steadiest tool for sure, but you ignore the wobble you feel when you start climbing it.

“Are you sure it’s–”

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” you chuckle, reaching the top step, but your knees are definitely shaking. You focus on grabbing the plates and getting off as fast as possible, but right when you take them off the shelf you already feel yourself losing balance.

But Harry is quick to come to your rescue. One of his hands grabs the ladder to steady it and the other… the other one grabs the back of your thigh to help you hold yourself up. Until then you were shaking because of the ladder, but now it’s definitely because of his firm hold on you, the warmth of his touch and the thoughts that unrelease when you realize just how perfectly his fingers are digging into your flesh.

“You good?” he asks in a deep, husky voice.

“Yeah.” Your voice is barely more than just a whisper as you hold onto the plates as if they could hold you up.

You start moving down on the ladder, but Harry’s hand doesn’t leave your body, it works up on your hips and waist, grabbing onto your elbow as you finally step onto the ground and even then, he is still touching you, his eyes locked on yours as you’re still holding those damn plates. The image of dropping them and pushing up against him flashes through your mind and your knees wobble again when you catch his gaze flickering down to your lips for a second.

“The plates,” you blurt out then. He looks down and a smile stretches across his face.

“They really are pretty.”

“Right?” you let out a breathy laugh.

“Now that you risked your life for them, I guess it’s only fair if I actually buy them.”

Fuck, your heart is about to jump right out of your chest, how is he so smooth?

You gather a few more things and then move to the cash register to ring everything up.

“How long have you been working here?” he asks, patiently waiting for you to finish.

“Um… Do you want the truth?” you ask, with a cheeky smile.

“Yeah.”

“This is my first day,” you admit, just as you finish the scanning and when you look at the amount it all added up to, you almost choke on your own saliva. “Um, your total is 1630.”

For a moment you think he’ll question how it’s so much, but without hesitation he whips out his card and taps it on the terminal.

“First day, huh?”

“You wouldn’t have guessed?”

“Oh, I kind of did,” he chuckles and he starts to help you with putting everything away in bags. “You really should learn what the items are used for.”

Normally you’d be embarrassed that he noticed how much you just made up, but the smile he is gifting you with vanishes all negative feelings and you can actually find it funny.

“I will.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” he smirks, grabbing the bags from the counter. “And if I happen to leave a review about the excellent service, what name should I drop?”

“I’m Y/N,” you say with a sheepish smile. He then sticks his hand out and you take it.

“Harry. It was really nice meeting you.”

“You too.”

With a final wave he turns around, slides his sunglasses back to the bridge of his nose and then walks out of the store. You stand there completely overwhelmed by the experience and you have no idea how much time passes by before Selma barges through the door.

“Hi Darling! How did everything go?” she beams, walking up to the counter where you’re still standing.

“Great!”

“Did anyone come in?”

“Yeah. Harry Styles was just here.” Selma freezes for a moment before looking up at you.

“Harry Styles? As in…”

“Yeah. That Harry Styles.”

“How did it go? Did he buy anything?”

“He spent 1600 dollars on kitchen stuff.”

“Y/N, that’s great!” Selma claps her hands. “Was he satisfied? Could you help him?”

“I think I could,” you say with a knowing smile. “He seemed… satisfied, yeah.”

The first day jitters are luckily gone by the next day, especially because Selma looked at you with so much pride after you told her about your encounter with Harry that you feel like you can’t do anything wrong.

Before lunch Selma asks you to rearrange some stuff in the storage and you’re a bit relieved you don’t have to take any customers for now.

But because of that, you’re not out when one specific person walks into the shop. Again.

Harry enters the store confidently, a smile already on his lips as he looks in the direction of the cash register, but it fades when he only sees Selma, but no sight of you. Selma, on the other hand, becomes ecstatic when she sees and recognizes him.

“Welcome! How may I help you?” she chirps, walking towards Harry, who is still looking around, eyes searching for you.

“Hey, is the… Is the woman who worked yesterday here? Y/N?” Selma stops, surprised.

“Y/N? Uh, yes, but she is busy now, I’m sure I can help you–”

“I want her,” he states.

“She is still training, I’m sure I can–”

“Look,” Harry sighs. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Selma, the owner,” she states proudly.

“Selma, I’m more than happy to buy everything in this store if it means I get to talk to her. How does that sound?”

Selma stares back at him, finally understanding the situation. Her stance changes instantly.

“Let me go get her for you.”

You’re going over your list in the back when Selma appears, her spotless appearance feels odd in the storage room’s setting.

“Oh, hey! I just finished with–”

“I need you outside.”

“What? Why?” Panic washes over you, because you can’t read her face and what could she possibly need you for outside on your second day?

“Just come. Now!” She turns around and heads out, not even checking if you’re following her. Of course you do.

“Selma, what did I–” you start mumbling behind her, but just when you step out and spot Harry at the cash register.

His face lights up the moment he sees you and those damn butterflies start raging in your stomach.

“Harry, you’re here. Again,” you state the obvious.

“I am,” he chuckles and you see Selma walk away from the corner of your eyes.

“How, um–What can I… help you with?” you ask, clearing your throat. Why is he here? Could it be… because of you? Yesterday you definitely spent an awful lot of time daydreaming of the way he was touching you on that ladder and you’d be lying if you said you felt disappointed he just walked out, knowing you might never see him again.

Well, so much for that.

“I forgot to get something yesterday.”

“Oh,” is all you can say, the disappointment snaking back into your gut. He is not here because of you, how could you even think about that?

Harry’s smile widens as he watches your face drop and then he finally continues.

“Your number.”

Your eyes widen and you must look quite funny, because Harry chuckles at the sight of your expression.

“Was this too straight forward?”

“No!” you snap right away, maybe a bit too eagerly. “Not at all.”

“Great, then…”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it over, you type your number in quickly and hand it over. He taps on the screen and a second later your phone starts buzzing in your back pocket.

“Just checking you didn’t give me a pizzeria’s number,” he jokes, making you laugh. “And… now that I’m conveniently here, maybe you can show me some more stuff.”

“What do you need?” you ask as the two of you head down one of the aisles.

“Hmm, how long is your shift?”

“Um, another four hours,” you scoff.

“Then I guess I’m interested in everything. Whatever takes four hours to look at so I can take you out once you’re done.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

536 notes · View notes

simpxxstan · 5 months ago

Note

CONGRATULATIONS FOR 550 FOLLOWERS!!! YOU DESERVE IT AND A LOTTTTT MOREEE!!!! 💖❤️💕

For the celebration can I please request wonwoo + one of the girls (by weekend)

- love ya 💝💞

thank you so much! your request is perfect because i've associated this song with wonwoo so many times UGH hope you like this!!

this is part of my 550 followers celebration event! find the rest of the content of this event here!

genre: actors au, smut, toxic relationship, angst

word count: 4.4k

warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT very toxic and manipulative wonwoo, actor!wonwoo, self confidence issues, self-image issues, mentions of dieting to alter appearances, implied big age gap, fwb dynamics, usage of pet names (doll, love, babe, darling), dom-sub dynamics, dom!wonwoo, sub!reader, public sex, implied spanking and edging, unprotected sex (do not do this irl pls), mirror sex, mild bondage, oral (m. receiving, f. receiving), verbal fighting, very ambiguous ending.

wonwoo doesn't even know your name. but his eyes have been on yours through the entire evening of the post-premiere party. you're happy being a wallflower- you don't even expect anything else. Because why would anyone notice a simple side character when there are so many stars to steal the show?

and yet, his eyes have strayed to you through the crowds of the party. even when he's in the spotlight, even when all the cameras are flashing on him, even when his co-star, who's the highest-paid actress in the country right now, keeps rubbing her body against his arm; even when every other woman in the party is busy flaunting their figures and their charms to him; even when everyone has their eyes on him.

you think you're mistaken. you quietly sip on your cocktail, staying on the sidelines. you're not really looking for attention tonight. your character might be a small one, just a minor role, but you're still extremely proud of yourself. you've just made your film debut, and you're just twenty-three. young enough for just a little success to fuel infinite adrenaline, but also old enough to know how to control your fire. tonight is for the small victories for you, and you've made up your mind to retire early, and go home to your friends and actually begin the party.

"y/n?" you spin around so fast that your hair whips into your face.

"mr. jeon?"

wonwoo's right there, his hair slicked back with gel, wearing the hottest design of the season effortlessly. there's a pair of glasses sitting casually on his nose, one eyebrow slightly raised. "there's no need to be formal, you know. we are colleagues, please call me wonwoo."

your nervousness must be visible through your face, because wonwoo's eyes sparkle with amusement. frankly, you don't even know how wonwoo even knows your name. you haven't interacted with him directly through the film- except for the fifteen minutes of the climax scene where you were on the screen at the same time as him.

"i- i'm sorry. wonwoo."

"happy to see you here. hope you're enjoying the party?"

your breath stutters. "i- i am. yes, very much." it's a fucking lie. you haven't moved from this spot for the last half an hour, you've been sipping on the same cocktail for the last ten minutes, and you've only conversed with two more actors in the film who had equally small roles as you.

wonwoo smiles at you, and your heart skips a beat. it's the same effect he has on every goddamn person. it's why he's become who he is now- charming, handsome and everyone's walking wet dream. "i'll see you around, then." and then he's gone, your eyes left wide and your thoughts all scattered.

you see wonwoo again when he invites you to a party at his country house. you think he's mistakenly invited you, up until the moment that the gates open for you when the guards see your face. you're sure glad you specially bought a new dress for this occasion, because the party seems to be filled with the cream of the celebrities of the current scene. and yet, his eyes find yours again. "you're here." you've prepared yourself better now, so that he doesn't render you a stuttering, stumbling mess again. "i couldn't turn down your invitation, of course." you're wearing your favourite wine-shaded lipstick, and you've chosen a dress that tastefully shows enough skin to make you look more a woman and less a girl.

it works on wonwoo.

he steps closer to you, his eyes raking over your figure. you can see enough haze in his obsidian eyes to know his look is one of appreciation. it has a wild effect on you- the combined attack of the scent of his cologne and the way his hair's pushed off his forehead to expose his strong eyebrows has your blood rushing. "you look beautiful." your eyes raise to meet his, and he hands a glass of wine into your hands, his fingers lingering on to the ghost of your touch for a second too long. "thank you?" you cringe at the tone of your own words. "i- sorry. i don't know just how to react about the fact i'm here at your party." you purse your lips and avert your gaze, only stealing glances at wonwoo when he chuckles. "you're finding this funny." "i'm not laughing at you, i swear." the wine's pretty strong. you don't like the taste of it except you can't say so to wonwoo who must've spent the racks on this. "you are. but you must be used to this. fans, after all." "well, it is an honour that you're a fan." "honour? i'm sure it's not. i'm a nobody."

wonwoo leans in, closer to you, his voice low enough to ensure no one else hears him except you.

"a beautiful lady is never a nobody."

you stay next to wonwoo through the evening. on the sofa, in front of the guests, at the dining table, in the balcony when wonwoo takes a cigarette break. he doesn't leave your side all evening, and who are you to turn him away?

wonwoo takes you on his yacht the next weekend.

"i have to ask you something." you've worn your favourite jumpsuit for the occasion, and wonwoo's standing on the neck, a polo t-shirt snug on his body.

"yes?"

"what is it exactly that you're doing? you and i are not friends, jeon wonwoo."

"you're right. we're not friends." wonwoo lifts his sunglass off his eyes and stands close to you. the night air makes your hair fly off into the hair, and he extends a hand to touch the skin on your neck that's left exposed. "i don't want to be friends with you, y/n. i just want you."

you gulp. you hesitate. that's your biggest mistake. because it takes your heart that one idle second to fold into wonwoo's charms, and you part your lips at the way his fingers rub circles into the same sensitive spot on your neck.

"what do you think? will you let me touch you?" god, how can he say it so easily?

you tilt your head to give him better access.

wonwoo makes love to you on the deck that night. you're fully sober, you're barely 100 metres away from the coast where everyone can see you. but you still let wonwoo strip off your dress and lay you out on the deck to suck at your breasts and fuck his fingers into your wet, sloppy cunt. when your cum is smothered all over his hands, he takes you to his bedroom. your hands are tied back, your body arching to give him more access. there's so much he's giving you- so many sensations at once. he brings a cube of ice and rubs it over your nipples to soothe them after the way he's sucked them red for so long. when your body shivers because of the ice, he pulls you into his arms, whispering soothing praise in your ears- even going as far as letting you grind down on his thigh. your hands are freed as he drives his cock into your cunt, all at once. you scream out his name- you've never taken such a big cock, but you want to please him. so bad. so you let him thrust himself into you lazily until you're begging him to go faster.

somewhere in the middle of the night, you lose your mind and beg him to use you. wonwoo's smirk is a memory you'll never forget even if you don't see him ever again. it's a smirk that will remind you of the way he flipped you on top of him, laying you out on his lap, as he leans on the headboard of his bed and calmly fingers your cunt again, pushing his cum back into you, until your eyes roll back and you lose all sense of time and place.

the last thing you remember from that night is when wonwoo kisses you, and fucks you into the mattress, and you grasp onto his shoulders as he relentlessly pumps into you. "so lovely, my doll. you're my doll, isn't that right?" you don't even know what you're saying at this point- it's too late into the night and all your thoughts are clouded by just wonwoo. "yes. yours, yours, yours."

wonwoo comes to your apartment the next day, with a bouquet of calla lilies and takeout food. the food doesn't get eaten for dinner, you do. the food gets eaten the next morning, your entire body too weak to even stand up straight. he feeds you as he sits next to you on the bed, kissing your forehead every two seconds. he runs a bath for you, and lifts you straight from the bed to the tub, and kisses you until your entire body relaxes in the warm water.

you don't talk much about anything other than the lust running thick through your veins for the entire day. you turn on the tv to watch something, but you end up sucking wonwoo's cock when he sits back on your couch and holds the end of your head to ensure you're taking him to the back of your throat, murmuring praises to you without a moment's lapse. when your mouth is full of his cum, he asks you to tell you whose doll you are. you shake your head, knowing you're going to make a mess if you try to talk. "go on. don't make me ask you again." wonwoo's voice is low, rumbling like thunder as he stares down into your eyes.

"y- yours!" you say as carefully as you can, and yet so much of the cum spills down your chin onto your breasts, where wonwoo licks it clean off you. "so pretty, but so messy. do you want a break now, doll?"

"no. please- no." wonwoo coos at you, as his hand strays down to your pussy and he feels the way your panties have turned transculent with how turned on you are. "come onto my lap, doll."

that night, you skip dinner. the next day, you take breaks in between sex to eat on a single pizza you ordered for lunch. you've fucked on every damn surface in your apartment- from the kitchen counter to your bathroom floor, from the balcony to the guest bedroom, from the loveseat underneath the window to the dining table. and yet, you can't keep yourself away from this man, and wonwoo, surprisingly, doesn't want to leave either.

until he does.

"darling, i'm going to have to leave in the morning" you're spent, lying on the bed, heaving in breaths to calm your racing heart after an excrutiatingly long session of spanking and edging. "you do?" you turn around on your elbows to look at him, and he pulls you over his chest, resting your head on this pecs. "i do. i have shooting tomorrow. would you mind if i came back in the evening? or you could come to m-" "wonwoo. can we slow down?" he stops talking for a second. you stare at him, trying to read his face.

you see wonwoo think for a long moment. finally, you raise your eyebrows and ask him again, "well?" "we could but... i can't do slow with you, doll. you're driving me crazy."

there. he's taken your breath away again.

he flips you over, his tongue already licking the valley between your breasts. you shiver all over, his hands roam your skin to calm you down. "i want you so bad, you have no idea." oh, you think you do. jeon wonwoo's been in your apartment for four days straight- when he has a perfectly beautiful mansion waiting for him. he's gone without decent food. gone without working out, gone without any of his makeup or skincare, gone without picking any work calls. you know he must want you bad enough to completely forget about his work life to come spend these days with you, rutting in your bed for hours and hours.

but a candle that burns fast dies out quickly.

you cradle wonwoo's face in your hands, pulling him away from your breasts. "let's get some sleep, hmm? you have work tomorrow."

wonwoo is gone before you even wake up. your mouth is filled with a bitter taste as you recall how mindlessly you've spent the last week- on the yacht and now at your house. you check your emails. no callbacks or offers from the auditions you've given in the past month. it's disheartening, but nothing new. every aspiring artists suffers the same struggles. but to be honest, you'd rather choose this over taking up a different, safer profession, as your parents would call it. you can't imagine not doing acting- it's the one thing which has reciprocated your love for it through your life. well, you hope that once the film reaches more people, you can secure some role through future auditions. till then, you text the local theatre troupe you're a part of, and inform them that you'll be free for their next performance.

wonwoo calls you when it's already dark outside. "my car's outside. think you can come over for the night?" you want to say no. you want to restrict the attraction- because you know you're falling for someone for whom everyone falls, and he'll never take this seriously, whatever this is. but you're a moth drawn to a flame, ready to burn till the last moment.

"yes, i'll come down in ten minutes."

wonwoo's not in the car. his chauffeur takes you to his mansion, and you find him sitting in the lawn, smoking a cigarette. as soon as he sees you, he calls out to you. "y/n! you're finally here." he runs over to meet you halfway and picks you up in his arms. "what's this behaviour, wonwoo?" you're flustered as hell, a giggling mess in his arms. "i missed you too much. how was your day today?" wonwoo sits down on the exquisite-looking chaise in the middle of the lawn. you notice that there's no one else around, except nature and the moonlight. wonwoo pulls you into his lap, and you smile at the way his hands roam through your body. "just like any other day. didn't get any emails, did yoga and ate fruits because i need to diet." "you don't. whoever told you that?" you laugh. "your stylist, actually. she says i need a better figure to get more roles." wonwoo nose scrunches, and his fingers slip under your t-shirt to touch your skin. "i'm going to change my stylist." and then he kisses your neck when you laugh out loud, pushing your neck further to give him better access and you arch out your body to feel as much of him as you can.

the next morning, you wake up much after the sun's already overhead. wonwoo's still asleep next to you, his hair splayed out across the pillow, his face down on his pillow. he has a leg over your body, but you carefully escape and get out of bed.

there's a new mail in your inbox.

"fuck!" you shout out when you see the contents of the mail, not realising that wonwoo's still sleeping. he wakes up instantly and peers at you. "don't scream if i'm not making you scream, love. what's up?" his voice is broken but inviting, and you jump into the bed next to him. "i just got an offer to model for a brand!" wonwoo gasps, sitting up and wearing his glasses. "that's amazing, y/n!" "i know right! i've never modelled before- oh i really need to get on that diet now-" "babe. babe, no. you look perfect. you have no need to diet forcefully. they'll take you as you are, otherwise they don't deserve you." wonwoo pulls you into a hug, his bare skin so warm and soft, and you melt into his touch. after he holds you for many long minutes, you whisper to him so softly, he may not even hear it. "thank you, wonwoo." his gaze is soft when he looks at you, "let me show you how perfect you are."

and wonwoo takes you to his walk-in closet, where an entire wall is covered with mirrors. when the two of you are facing the mirror, he begins kissing your neck from behind you, peeling off your layers. "keep your eyes on yourself, doll. see how perfect you are." and he shows you. he gets on the floor, hooking one leg on his shoulder, as he eats you out. then he pushes you on the closed closet behind you, and fucks you while you hold on to it for dear life. the position makes your legs ache, but the mirror's visual of wonwoo's broad back and his thrusting into you, the way his dark mop of hair shakes when he grabs your breasts and sucks them, and the way his hands leave red marks on your hips with how hard he's holding you, leaves you feeling too aroused and dirty to ask him to take this somewhere else.

you almost move in to wonwoo's house over the next month, with how much time you spend with him. he brings over your clothes and other belongings to his house, he drives you around everywhere, and he makes love to you like a touch-starved man every night. and you love it. you love the feeling of having wonwoo all to yourself. even when there are hundreds of other people waiting for him, craving for his touch, you have the power to make wonwoo fall to his knees for you, and it makes you high. you're on top of the world, and you fail to see who's put you there.

your career also radically takes off- must be the after effect of the film. you get several modelling offers, advertisements and even a magazine cover featuring actors who've originated from roots in theatre. but the real kill is when your application to the audition for a role at one of the most anticipated tv shows of the next year gets accepted. wonwoo smothers you with sweet kisses when you tell him the news, and although you haven't labelled anything, it starts to feel too domestic for you to think he's no longer serious about you. for he often texts you as wife, takes you out to secret dates where you're kissing in alleys, and eats dinner with you every night. he makes you feel so good, you can't be bothered to worry about anything.

you know wonwoo's at his shooting spot when you arrive at the hall where the film audition's taking place. so you're incredibly surprised to see that he's sitting right next to the director of the film on the audition panel. "what are you doing here?" you text him as you wait for your turn to audition. "nothing- just a favour for an old friend. don't worry, babe. i won't be judging. i won't even be saying a word." he texts you back. you look up at him from your spot in the wings, and you smirk when your eyes meet his. he winks at you, and in spite of all the distance, your heart flutters.

you pass the audition. you're also offered a role promotion- from the side chick of the villain, you're now the male lead's second love interest. "no surprise, babe. you did so well," wonwoo tells you later when he's kissing you in the back of the car. "how can you say that! the others were so good. i was literally so nervous!" he pulls away from the spot he's been biting hickeys into on your neck, and laughs. "you've gotta work on your confidence, babe. but not on your talent. no one there was better than you, and you should know it."

wonwoo finishes filming for his project by the end of the next month. he insists you accompany him to the pre-release party- which is frankly a little shocking.

"are you sure you want to be seen with me?" you ask him from the corner of the bed, and wonwoo kneels before you, tying the strings of your heels. "are you serious right now? god, what happened to all those discussions about confidence?" you sigh, pouting as he looks up at you. "i don't know. what if your fans don't like me? you know how fans can be." wonwoo laughs. "no, i don't." you roll your eyes, "that's because you've never-" been seen publicly with someone you're dating, you want to say. but your words trail off when you realise wonwoo's never really said he's dating you. you might be friends with benefits in his mind, even though he calls you love and babe.

he finishes tying up your heels and looks at you. "hmm?" "what i mean is that- i'm a nobody, wonwoo. i don't want your image to be affected because me." he laughs, "you're not nobody. you're y/n. and you don't have to worry about me. nothing you do can affect my public image.

wonwoo's words act like a shot of confidence injected into your bloodstream, and you hold your head up high when you get out of the car, expecting wonwoo to join you from the other side of the car.

he doesn't.

he immediately moves on to where his co-stars are standing, flashing dazzling smiles to the press waiting for him. it's an understandable move, but it makes you feel very disoriented for a second as you get a grip on yourself. you're not nobody. not a single camera flashes to capture you. you're not nobody. not a single head turns to look at you. you're not nobody. you're a wallflower again, back where wonwoo found you six months ago. nothing's changed. you are nobody.

after a few drinks and some small talk with people you see, you escape to take a break in the bathroom. you're just about to get out after taking a few minutes to recover, when you find wonwoo standing right outside. "wonwoo?" "let me in, babe." you're confused but he smiles and slowly comes in. "what's wr-" he doesn't respond, he pushes you against the tiled wall and kisses you. "i miss you, that's all." and with a few touches, he makes you forget all doubts in your mind. almost. "you look so good tonight, left me with a boner all evening." "no one asked you to be away from me." you whisper in between moans as his hands spread the slit of your dress and find your clothed pussy. "shhh. don't be a brat now, doll. think you'll let me fuck your mouth quickly? darling, don't refuse me now. i'll make it up to you when we get home. i can't possibly walk around with this boner all night." he makes sure not to leave hickeys on your neck, but the way he's touching you makes you weak. "yes, fuck. please, wonwoo."

so you get on your knees in the bathroom of this five-star hotel's hall, your knees cold against the tile, and take out wonwoo's thick red cock from his pants. it is painfully hard, and you take it in one go, your mouth used to the stretch by now. it takes you less than five minutes to get him to cum, thankfully he finishes in the washbasin and not in your mouth. when the redness of his eyes have subsided from the orgasm, he kisses your cheek, whispering good girl to you, and leaves you. your throat is raw, your underwear uncomfortable and your skin cold. but you're sure no one will notice even if your lipstick's ruined.

you hand wonwoo your phone, showing him a few screenshots open. there's conversations happening on social media about your upcoming film, but it's not good publicity. there's apparently a chat that's been leaked, claiming that you got the role only because you're sleeping with wonwoo.

"is it true?"

wonwoo takes a glance at your phone, before returning to the game he's playing on his laptop. "of course not, babe."

"what about the chat?"

"you know how rumours start."

"wonwoo, look at me and reply."

"one second. i need to finish this round."

"wonwoo!" he finally looks at you. "what?" "tell me the truth. look into my eyes and tell me the truth." "i told you already. it's all false." "wonwoo, i would rather not get roles than get it through you."

he laughs. "really? someone's grown up with a lot of morals, i see."

"i'm serious."

the expression on his face morphs from one of mirth to a serious look you've never seen in real life, only in his film when he's seconds away from nabbing the villain. "are you? would you honestly rather be poor than successful with a little bit of help?"

your blood boils, and you stand up, moving away from him. "so you're admitting it?" your voice grows high pitched, but you're feeling unstable. "to what?" "fixing the audition?" wonwoo laughs again. "what about it? you dese-" "do not bullshit me, wonwoo. did you or did you not?" "y/n-" "why were you there that day? did you or did you not, wonwoo, i need to know!"

"i did." there's a look of amusement in his eyes, but it's not attractive at all. "i did because i could. because i don't want to date someone who's dirt poor and on the edges of the industry."

your breath stops in your throat. for a second you think you're going to choke and die, but then wonwoo reaches out and touches your cheeks. "i was just looking out for you, love." you stand frozen, numb against his touch. you can't look into his eyes, you fear the venom in their darkness.

"fuck you, jeon wonwoo."

his hand stops around your jaw. "what?"

"you can go get high on your power and fame. don't use me to boost your own ego." you finally look up at him. "fuck you."

wonwoo smirks.

"it'll sting for a bit. just like sex. it'll get really pleasant soon when the fruits start coming in. you're my smart doll, aren't you?"

#simpxxstan #simpxxstan's 550 followers celebration event #request answered!#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt #svt x reader #seventeen x you #svt smut #wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut #wonwoo seventeen #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo svt

279 notes · View notes

temptress-writes · 1 year ago

Text

📺 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.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles filth #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #smut #hes #anon #hs #hslot

1K notes · View notes

bedoballoons · 1 year ago

Text

All of this was amazing and then I saw the cheese stick as the favourite food and went- YESSSSSSS!!! Love this request, love cheese sticks and SUMERU BOYYSS. I miss them :(

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ❄️𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ❄️

{༻~Cheese stickies~༺}

CW: GN! Reader, Slight Tsundere vibes for the reader, fluffy! One mention of Wanderer calling the reader a idiot! One curse word...and yes Wanderer gets it :)

(Includes: Tighnari, Kaveh, Alhaitham, Wanderer, and Cyno!)

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnari sighed as you shut the door tightly behind you, clearly upset that he'd forgotten your date night. He'd truly just gotten to busy with his forest ranger duties and didn't even realise it was today...buuut that still wasn't a good enough excuse to forget a date you set aside every week to spend time together and he knew that.

"How about I make it up to you? I'll take you out to shoot my bow like you've been wanting to?" He rested against the shut door, his ears twitching as he waited for your response..., "Guess not..." He bit his lip, thinking it over and then it hit him.

He smiled slyly and pushed off the door, his tail swaying behind him as he lit a fire, starting the process of making your all time favourite food. "I think I'll just make some cheese sticks then and spend the rest of the night alone..." He spoke loudly, knowing you'd hear him even with the door closed...there's no shot this didn't work.

"You're forgiven!" He jumped as you somehow appeared next to him, tummy growling and your face warm from the pan as you looked inside it happily. You're date night was now the least of your worries, "You're making lots right?!"

𑁍༄Kaveh:

"I'm truly sorry, I was so caught up in my new designs and what was going on with my work that I didn't even remember our date night...We could start now! I'll get out some snacks and we could watch the clouds?!" He smiled at you hopefully, but in return you just gave him a pouty face and turned away, not entertained by the idea in the slightest.

Had it been watching the stars at night like you were supposed to then you'd happily oblige, but no. This was the next day and you weren't gonna let him off that easily.

"Hmm" He touched his chin in thought, looking around your home for any ideas on how to fix the mess he'd made...untill his eyes landed on a picture of you two at the most recent festival. He was carrying prizes both of you had won and you were eating a large cheese stick with a smile he didn't even realise was possible. That was by far one of your funnest dates and it was the first time he'd heard of your favourite food..

Favourite food...

"Ah I know!" You looked at him curiously as he hurried into the kitchen, scrambling to collect your recipe book and the necessary ingredients. It didn't take long till you figured out what he was up to, the delicious aroma of fried, stretchy, yummy cheese sticks hitting you in waves. Any thoughts of the missed date absolutely escaping your brain as you stood next to him hungrily. "Forgiven!! Can I have a big plate! Please!!"

𑁍༄Alhaitham:

"Our date night was tonight? My bad, I thought it was tomorrow. I'm already reading my newest book collection, how about we go tomorrow instead?"

You stared daggers at him, clearly annoyed by his casual calmness over your forgotten date, over the night that was supposed to be the one you shared... "We can't go tomorrow, the reservation was for tonight...I sat there waiting for a hour! Do you not care? Ugh!" You stomped away from him, leaving him slightly stunned...

He closed his book with a loud snap, watching you slam the door behind you and sit in your shared room all alone. He felt bad to say the least, even with all the time he spent with you he still wasn't entirely sure how to handle situations like this one...he stood up and stepped towards the door, pausing once he saw the kitchen.

Your conversation about the restaurant you'd made the reservation at suddenly coming back to him. The only reason you wanted to go to that one was because they had your favourite food for cheap...and it was something that could be easily made..

He switched gears, walking to one of his shelves of books and searching for his recipe books, "Ah, here we go." He flicked through the pages until he found the one he was looking for, "Cheese sticks...not very creative name wise..." He heard movement in the room and pretended not to notice as you peaked out at him.

"No, that would never work. They won't forgive me just because I make them this.."

"YOU'RE FORGIVEN! I mean...ahem, I'll think about it if you make them.."

𑁍༄Wanderer:

Wanderer huffed, trying to ignore the guilty feeling tugging at his non existent heart...it wasn't his fault Nahida had added a extra class for him to take care of and in return he forgot your date night. If anything it was you idiot fault for not reminding him more! No...that wasn't far to you, even he could see that he was in the wrong...and you'd reminded him at least four times before the day even arrived..

"Shit." He muttered under his breath. He looked at you as you sat as far away from him as possible, ignoring his existence the best you could with him in the same room as you. How could he fix this..."What do you want...kisses or cuddles or something?" You shook your head and scootched impossibly closer to the wall you were already up against.

He sighed in annoyance, not knowing what else you'd like or want so he could be forgiven. He felt bad, but that didn't mean he'd get on his knees and beg for forgiveness or buy you something worth millions of mora. You probably wouldn't like anything he bought you anyways...your favourite things were always those stupid-

He interrupted himself mid thought, leaving his spot so he could start preparing your food...he never cooked for anyone else and even though he cooked for you it was rare, but he knew this would make you smile at least. "Hey, do we have those cheese things...I'll fry some up.."

You instantly perked up, your attention snapping to him, "You're making cheese sticks??"

"...will you forgive me if I do...and I promise I won't miss another date night?"

"YES!!"

𑁍༄Cyno:

Cyno looked at you apologetically, he felt horrible knowing he'd missed the date you'd been looking forward to and even worse that it was because of a scheduling error on his part, "I'm sorry, I should have been more careful with my planning. How about I tell you a few jokes and we go for a walk, I've learned some really good ones from a book Alhaitham lent me..."

You shook your head and sat down at the table, doodling non existent things with your finger...your bottom lip stuck out in a pouty way. "It's to warm out to go for a walk...and even though I usually like your jokes, those don't make up for our date night.."

He figured as much, still he didn't want to just leave it on that...so how could he make it up to you? Suddenly he had a idea and if a light bulb could appear above his head it would have, because this idea was genius. "This might be cheesy...but perhaps we could cook some cheese sticks together instead? I know you love them~"

You tried not to smile at his silly pun, but before you knew it you had a big grin and were hurrying to help him make your favourite food. "I guess I can forgive you, after all, we should stick together. Get it?"

"You're even cheesier than me..."

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day!~*⁠.⁠✧

497 notes · View notes

siremasterlawrence · 3 months ago

Text

Becoming A Champion: The Hemsworth Brothers

Chris Hemsworth regrets on how he got here it was on the crazy night of October 31st yes on the day of good ole hallow eves at a fan event in Los Angeles and he is relaxing all while he us hanging out with his brothers at the time all giggles, smiles ear to ear with huge grins as knock on the door erupting in to a bit of annoyance. He rises to his feet slamming his hand on the desk as he waltzes past his clan to the door at exactly midnight grabbing the door knob and as the slides open a odd young man waltzes in to the room in a ecstatic fit state of mind as the man claps his back causing Chris took look confused beyond his understanding. Suddenly the lights flicker off leaving them literally in the dark as they freak off racing through the room as they panic trying to force the windows as they shutter down sealing off and they loose as they walls are covered in a steel wall enclosing them the floor begins to shake descending one level to another the speed picks up at the beat. The floor comes to a stop in a room two size too small as the three of them barely fit in to with three doors magically appears their backs are turned from them as they are now obviously oblivious to everything and they hear a sound erupting around them unfortunately something goes off as they door swings to the side and threeother guys reach out placing liquid lacedrags on his mouth cupping their face anddrag them in. Chris woke up laying in the middle of the Arctic kingdom as his bodyshivers at the sheer touch of cold shoots in to his body and he learns to adjust he is standing up to oversee the place he isnow stranded in.

“Liam? Luke? Are you there?”

“They are perfectly safe Chris”

“Where are they?”

“Never you mind that “

“What can you possibly want from me?”

“Zip it! Your new master @MCTF21 is awaiting you.”

“Who the….”

“You will compete at this level like a major athlete Olympian.”

“Yes to please Master…Master @MCTF21”

“Climb the cold winter mountain height to prove to him.”

“I shall prove to him”

“Follow him to the heights “

“You are a Olympian”

“I am a Olympian “

“I am born to serve him”

“I will prove it by back flipping to the next cold mountain.”

“Fuck off and do it”

“Yes Sir”

Liam Hemsworth is next on the dock now he is locked away in a room looking so similar to his current dressing room and the last trailer as he feels an urge to lift his weights upward. He is utterly amazed no surprised and shock at how immaculate all things were designed to be his place with so much great detail to it and he is smirking in great delight of it all’s as he wondering what is coming up next.The world begins spinning out of control for him as he feels exhausted as he falls to the ground flailing on the floor as he is rolling to his safety as the place is on fire and he is consumed.A man walks in to the room as he steps up the staircase to the top of the room as he is standing upward as he felt deeply in control of the situation as he smiles wickedly and cups his chin. Poor Liam his head is lifting upward as he is staring at me deeply, intensely as I his new Lord, God, King, Master Lawrence to whom he owes him everything now and his lips are soft and tender to the touch. We are finally giving him to my desire as he lips pin down on mine we slowly begin to make out with all our efforts because he falls for me mind, body and soul. Its a beautiful sight as he is meeting me surpassing my height as he is standing up, my arms wrap around me as holds me closer and he can’t see his body swooping him in to my world. It is my entire existence as he lifts me up staring in to my eyes his whole world flips spiritually out of control and Liam Hemsworth is no more of man just a pussy my pussy. Liammy new puss can’t help but be so blindly happy and totally obedient to me, the sound of my finger rushes through it all as he is awoken to me over him.

“Ugh! What the fuck ?”

“Oh Master Lawrence!”

“Yes Liam”

“I am your property “

“Your brothers?”

“Fuck them!”

“Wow! You mean it?”

“Well not literally “

“Mwahahahahaha…”

“Please don’t laugh”

“Why boi?”

“I love you “

“You do! I am aware”

“Chris can’t have you “

“I won’t leave you for him”

“Besides Chris is taken”

“What about Luke?”

“I might give him away”

Luke is up next but I am about to send him to a secret person.

The end

#Hypno Bros #hypnosis #mind control #reprogramming #hypno slave #hypno submission #mind control slaves #ownership #gay mind control #control #Nerdy Dreams Come True

53 notes · View notes

icallhimjoey · 1 year ago

Text

Lost & Found

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You take a little break, a week away to somewhere warm to relax and calm your senses. So does Joe – same flight, same hotel, same travel plans and, worst of all, same suitcase. What was meant to be a lovely trip to the sun starts off on the wrong foot when you find expensive designer outfits belonging to a man in what you thought was your suitcase.

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, lots of swearing, we get a little spicy but nothing too bad, 18+ just in case though!

Author’s note: um little warning, my current state of being is starting to mirror this fic in all the worst ways, so apologies bc this isnt doing my writing any favours (little unfair how it's only the bad things like the lack of sleep and the stress and the hangovers and not the, you know, joe of it all, but, whatever i guess) hope you enjoy!

Wordcount: 3.8K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

So, um... let’s go over this again…

You were in Joe’s hotel room. In his bed. Coffee in hand. He was no longer holding you, wasn't even in the room now, but he had held you. For long. When you were all sweaty and gross, and your heart was beating out of your chest in the dark. He had held you until your breathing turned normal and then he’d very softly moved aside and it was sort of... perfect. Did exactly what it needed to do.

It wasn’t ideal to have someone witness what you were like when a nightmare set your skin on fire and made your blood run cold, but it was nice to not have to deal with it yourself for once. Had you been alone, you’d have gotten up and out of bed. Gone for a shower, maybe. Would’ve gone to sit out on the balcony to watch the sunrise.

This time, it had gone different.

Better.

You'd managed to go back to sleep and get a couple more hours in.

Something unheard of.

Everything was different and better, because Joe had invited you into his hotel room even though you didn’t even really know why you’d walked inside.

Joe did know.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You were stood in the middle of the room as Joe locked the door behind you.

You shook your head.

“I can never sleep.”

Joe's shit was everywhere. Just, all over.

Why were you in his room?

“Insomnia?” Joe asked as he walked around you, grabbed you by the biceps to move you out of the way as he got back to what was obviously his side of the bed, crumpled covers, pillow dented.

“I guess? I don’t know, just... stress, I think.”

“You didn’t have trouble falling asleep earlier,” Joe said all casual, like it was normal to have this conversation in the middle of the night in his room as he climbed back into bed.

He nodded his head to the empty spot next to him and beckoned you with an arm.

What were you doing here?

“You came back for another massage?”

“I came to bring over your jacket.”

“At... at one in the morning.” Joe pointedly said, eyebrows raised up high on his forehead and a smug little smile playing at his lips.

You carefully sat down on Joe’s bed near the end, folded your legs and pretended not to want to get under the covers with him. Joe sat up against the headboard and leant his head back. Tired. Clearly very tired.

“It’s not one in the morning.”

It wasn’t. It had just gone midnight.

“But I wouldn’t mind another massage,” you shrugged as you said it, feigned innocence as you touched a shoulder. “You know, it still hurts a little...”

What were you doing?

Joe didn't move and looked you over all slow, took a moment to think of what to do next.

“Did you eat?”

Ugh, you didn’t need that. Didn’t need him to fret over you not taking care of yourself. He wasn’t your mum.

You were also strangers, still. Let's not forget.

Yes, you were on his bed, and had worn nearly all of his clothes, and he’d sat outside of your bathroom as you showered, and then he’d massaged you to sleep after, but... you were strangers still.

“I didn’t see you downstairs,” Joe clarified after you rolled your eyes. “Or am I wrong to assume you’ve also got a table booked downstairs for the whole week?”

Oh.

Yea, you did.

“I do, but tonight I got room service.”

Why were you there?

“Did you drink?”

“If you count the overpriced corona from the minibar, yes, I had one drink.”

You didn’t know why he was asking the questions he was asking, but it seemed like he was considering something and needed to know. Needed to know all these little bits of information before deciding.

Deciding what?

To get his hands on you?

The silence lingered a bit too long and Joe kept looking at you with his head leant back against the headboard, all half-lidded eyes, mouth in a weirdly charming half-smirk that made you grow self-conscious at a steady incline.

“Sorry, I’ll… maybe I shouldn’t have come, you've got– I gave you the jacket back, I’ll just–” you went get up off the bed, already had one foot touching the carpet, but then Joe leant forward and grabbed what he could.

“No, don’t,” he got you by the wrist.

Don’t what? Get up? Leave? Be awkward?

Well, too late.

You were being awkward as fuck.

You hadn’t walked into Joe’s bedroom to have sex with him. The attention was nice, and you did want him to touch you more. To use his hands. Make your skin tingle underneath his fingers.

“No, don’t,” Joe had said, and you took a second to look at where Joe's fingers wrapped around your wrist. You frowned as you sharply inhaled and answered,

“I don’t... I mean– sorry, I’m not...” you trailed off, unsure of what to say.

Joe scanned your features, then nodded in understanding and said, “Okay,” before moving the covers aside for you to get into bed next to him.

Was all you needed.

“So, stress, huh?” Joe held up covers with two hands and helped as you crawled in.

Were you just... going to sleep? With Joe? In his bed?

Who were you?

“Just, work, you know how it is,” you slid under the covers and were surprised by the warmth you found there. Instant comfort.

Joe moved over to turn off the light and chuckled as he said, “I thought I did, but... I don’t think I do,”

“I’m fine!”

So defensive.

“Clearly.”

Sarcasm.

“I am!”

“Stop biting at your fingers,”

Caught red handed.

Shit.

“Sorry,”

“Don’t apologise,”

“Okay sorry,”

You both huffed breaths through your noses in laughter before silence took over the room.

You were in Joe’s bed, and you weren’t exactly sure why you were in Joe’s bed. But here you were. In Joe’s hotel room and somehow, it was million times better than being in your own hotel room.

It was silent for a second and you weren’t touching each other, but you were close enough to feel Joe’s body heat radiate, that side of your body tangibly warmer.

My God.

You realised you had so much to update your friend on.

How were you ever going to explain what the fuck this day had been - this whole trip had been, so far?

It had all been weird naps followed by weird experiences with Joe followed by weird naps followed by weird experiences with Joe.

What a trip.

“Did you... did you just come over to come stare at this ceiling instead of yours?” Joe whispered after a while.

“I came over to return your jacket,”

You did. You had returned the jacket, hadn’t you?

“Here,” Joe said, and gave you his wrist. He used his fingers to place yours on his pulse point and you felt how his fingertips found yours.

“Feel that?”

His heartbeat. Warm skin. Soft skin. He made you feel his heartbeat as he monitored yours in tandem.

Oh, Jesus. This was intimate.

“Focus on that.”

And so you did. It was steady. Slow. If you didn’t focus on it, you stopped feeling it, would lose it altogether, so you kind of had to pay close attention.

As if on autopilot, your breathing grew just as steady and you couldn't fucking believe it when you realised your eyes were closed. You didn't remember closing them.

You were in Joe's bed, and you were touching hands and wrists, and listened to each other breathe, and felt each other's heartbeat.

You knocked out in no time.

But different surroundings and no alcohol in your blood made your brain do silly things, didn't it?

You dreamed of intruders that you could hear and feel but couldn’t see.

Strange people in your house that were there to harm, who made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as their voices whispered in the wind, and you could sense they were there, you knew they were there, but where could you hide?

You couldn't fucking see anything.

You were alone and it was dark and there was real danger so close to you and everything inside you said run! Hide! Get the fucking fuck away, you dumb bitch!

A touch to your shoulder woke you up in a panic. Sweaty. Panting. Choking on hyperventilating breaths.

And it was dark. And, shut the fuck up, who was shouting?!

Fuck, why couldn’t you see anything?!

“It’s me, it’s me, it’s just me, it’s me,”

Joe had latched onto your back, wrapped arms around and held you tightly. Squeezed the panic right out of you. Whispered right into your ear, soothing shushes followed by reassuring words of being safe, and it was just nightmares, was just thoughts in your mind, and it was just him.

It was just him.

But it didn’t help.

Joe was a stranger and why the fuck were you in his bed again?

Yea, it was just nightmares. Just hallucinations the night plagued you with on the reg. You knew and understood in your mind that you were fine. That you were safe.

But fear didn’t just leave your body so easily.

Fear had a way of grabbing onto you with long fingernails that dug into your flesh and squeezed you until you had to remind your lungs of how to ask for oxygen again.

Breathe.

“Hey, hey, you’re fine, you’re okay, shhh, take deep breaths,”

Easier said than done, you thought.

Joe found your wrist again when your breathing didn’t steady quick enough, and helped you locate his pulse with your thumb.

“You’re fine, you’re fine, shhh, feel my pulse? Match it. Match your breathing, you’re fine. It’s just me. Relax your shoulders, you’re okay.”

And it was so stupid.

So silly.

It fucking worked.

Something about feeling a heartbeat that wasn’t practically vibrating helped.

Helped a lot.

It took a little while for you to fully relax again. To catch your breath. To even consider going back to sleep. Had you been alone, you’d have gotten out of bed to pace the room a second. To have a sip of water and to maybe scroll TikTok for...um, yea, for hours, you couldn't lie.

God.

How fucking embarrassing.

Maybe this was the time to get up and go back to your own room. Coop up inside there for the rest of the trip. Avoid Joe at all costs.

Or, maybe not.

Joe was still hugging and squeezing, had an arm tightly wrapped around your waist and, yea, you felt gross. Damp. Hot and sweaty and sticky and absolutely disgusting.

But you also felt protected. Cared for. All safe and shit.

“Don’t apologise,” Joe suddenly whispered and wasn't that exactly right. You absolutely were about to tell him you were sorry. Sorry for waking him. Sorry for being all wet. Sorry for being there to begin with.

But you were just told to not do that, and so instead brought a finger up to your mouth to bite at the skin there.

“Go back to sleep,”

You felt Joe press his forehead to the back of your neck. Felt how he rubbed his skin against yours like a cat would.

“Can’t, I never can,” you croaked, voice in pain for whatever reason, slightly muffled from the fingers at your mouth.

“Try,” Joe said sleepily as he used the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist to save your other one from being bit at without looking. Brought your hand down to your stomach where he held it in place.

And, fine.

You could try.

You always tried and it never worked, but Joe was holding you with heavy limbs and trying felt like the easiest favour you could do for him right now.

Joe held you for long.

Joe held you until he detected no more tension in your body.

Joe had eased off when he knew for sure you'd fallen asleep again, surprised that it had even worked, happy to have been of help, and gentlemanly enough to then give you space.

Because... what the fuck was he even doing?

Giving a girl his clothes to wear. Making sure she was okay after a miscalculation in energy management. Leaving his jacket after he'd massaged her to sleep in her hotel room. Inviting her in when she knocked on his door in the middle of the night...

What was he even doing?

Yea, what was he doing was the right question.

Made him reflect for a moment in the quiet dark of the early morning, pretty girl next to him now calm and asleep again.

What was he doing.

Helping.

Helping, he decided.

He was just helping. That was all.

Like he helped by not making a huge deal of meeting you in one of his literal outfits. Like he helped by lending you another jacket upstairs at the bar. Like he helped when you'd fainted and you needed to get out of the sun and into the shade.

Getting you upstairs.

Listening as you showered.

Kneading your knotted muscles.

He was just helping.

That was all.

And then Joe helped more when he woke up a little later and made two coffees.

Joe helped more when he slid out onto his balcony for a cigarette, and stayed out there to give you time and space to wake up slowly by yourself without another person in the room.

And Joe helped even more when you peeked your head around the sliding glass door and smiled a squinty smile at him, coffee cup in hand, and he greeted, “Good morning.”.

“Thanks,” was all you said, raising and moving the cup around enough to show Joe that it was empty.

You meant for the coffee. Thanks for the coffee. But also, um, for all the other things.

“You’re welcome,” Joe replied, gave a squinty smile in return.

He meant for the coffee. You’re welcome for the coffee. But also, for all of the other things too.

You awkwardly pointed a thumb over your shoulder, stammered through reasons of why you should be getting back to your own hotel room, to shower, to go have breakfast, to get out of his hair. Before you disappeared back inside, Joe asked, “Have you been down there yet?” and looked out towards where the sand met the still ocean, sun reflecting on the barely-there waves.

You hadn’t.

“Up for a beach day?”

And just like that, the unspoken agreement became that you would just... spend the trip together. Why not, you know? You were both on your own, in similar situations if you squinted, and seemingly enjoyed each other’s company enough to spend it in each other’s vicinity.

Not together together, but together enough.

You didn’t sit down at the same table for breakfast, but sat near each other.

Raised your cup of freshly squeezed orange juice in cheers over the tables in between.

Bit into your croissant as you saw him bite into his and tried to not laugh croissant flakes all over your table-for-one.

Got into the lift together, said, “Meet you in the lobby in 30 minutes?”, then shaved your legs in record time and before you could even think to slow down enough to grow doubtful of your choices, your eyes found Joe in the lobby and he looked... not ready for a beach day, that was for sure.

“Are you... do we have a boardroom meeting first? What’s going– should I get changed?” you poked fun, and thank fuck, Joe immediately matched the playful energy. Went, “What’s wrong with this?” all cartoonish and exaggerated.

“You’re not wearing a black button-down shirt to the bea– a long-sleeved black button-down Dior shirt?”

You gave him a look. Really, Joe? Really?

“I’ve got the sleeves rolled up!” Joe stuck out both arms to display his forearms and... those didn't have the right to look so nice.

“Oh my G– I can’t. Please go wear what you wore yesterday? Or– no, you’ve got that– you brought T-shirts. Wear a T-shirt.”

Joe couldn't fucking believe what he was hearing, mouth slightly agape, pulling into a smile.

“Please go change into a white T-shirt, or even the black one. I’ll wait here.”

Joe chuckled, shook his head and was about to admit defeat and turn back to walk to the lifts, but then he stopped, said, “All right, but you get someone to get a new plaster for your eyebrow,”

Ugh.

“Fine,”

“Fine.”

Two hours later, you found yourself with your feet in the water and sand between your toes, a fresh new way thinner plaster stuck over your eyebrow and Joe right next to you.

In his black T-shirt.

The one that still smelled vaguely of your perfume which Joe only realised when he pulled it over his head earlier.

You were walking and talking and it turned out you’d booked the exact same trip on the exact same website.

Same agency. Same flights. Same hotel. Same dates. Same suitcases.

It was a lot of the same for this one week.

Everything else you could think to talk about? Vastly different.

You lived in opposite ends of London.

Worked in severely different fields, ones where you couldn't even imagine what each other’s day to day looked like.

Liked different music genres. Film genres.

Had different interests. Different hobbies.

Same humour though.

Joe had you giggling the whole time.

And, dared you think it, same love languages.

Joe reached over hands to touch you a lot. Small fleeting little moments, never inappropriate or crossing any boundaries.

You fucking loved it.

You spent time walking the shore, went into the water til it reached your knees for a little bit, and then spent time on sun beds that you had to pay for.

Well.

Sun beds that belonged to a restaurant so they made you order food and drink, which was fine.

Before you could order yourself a cocktail, Joe’d asked for fresh fruit and mocktails.

Mocktails.

When the waiter’d left, you softly scoffed at him.

“We’re in the sun,” Joe reasoned, the image of your face draining of colour before your knees gave out still fresh in his mind from the day before.

“We’re in the sun,” you mocked him, ready to burst into laughter when he would.

But then instead Joe reached over and removed your hand from your mouth, and fuck all the way off, you hadn't even realised you were biting at a nail again.

Ugh.

You groaned, annoyed with yourself, were about to say, why can’t I stop making myself bleed? but were stopped by Joe’s fingers that interlaced with yours.

You looked at the tangle of fingers that rested on his thigh and your vision went a little fuzzy.

“There.” was all Joe said, just helping.

You ate fresh tropical fruits in the sun.

People-watched in the sun.

Drank mocktails in the sun.

You drank expensive juice and then even had some water because you were being all sensible now. Stayed hydrated. Kept food in your system. Were well rested, for once. Held hands with an attractive man. Ate a chunk of pineapple from his fingers.

Handsome man in expensive clothes.

Handsome man who made you laugh a lot.

Handsome man who’d held you through a nightmare comedown.

Handsome man whose nose was starting to burn from the sun a little.

Handsome man who awkwardly said he should probably get out of the sun. Go back to the hotel. He didn’t want to, he was having a great time, but he hadn’t brought sunscreen with him and it was probably best to head back.

You said it was fine, you were kind of ready to head back yourself too.

You didn’t hold hands as you walked back to the hotel together.

You didn’t hold hands as you stepped back into the air-conditioned hotel lobby together.

You didn’t hold hands as you stepped into the lift together, and then you didn’t hold hands as Joe pressed the button for his floor and then didn’t hold hands as you waited until the doors closed.

Joe looked at the buttons.

Then at you.

You hid a smirk.

Joe didn’t catch it and pressed the button for your floor.

Just helping, wasn’t he?

Okay, well... no worries. You just... you just thought that maybe you’d been on the same page, you know? But it was fine. Fine. Okay.

Joe didn’t catch what you were trying to do and it was fine.

Joe had pressed the button to the 11th floor because that was where your room was and he just hadn’t caught on to why you hadn’t pressed it yourself.

Fine.

Joe was just helping. Didn’t see what was going on underneath the surface with you.

Fine.

It was fine. Deep breaths.

But then he did catch it. It took him a second, maybe two, but then he caught it in your reflection. In the way you bit your lips into your mouth and nodded slowly at yourself as you looked down at your feet. It took a moment but then he caught on and... yea. Yea, that could work. Would work. Was going to work. Absolutely. Yes.

Yes.

The lift reached Joe’s floor and you held your breath as the doors opened.

Joe didn’t move.

You thought maybe he didn’t know what to say. How to say goodbye. How to maybe ask you to dinner later.

Joe didn’t move until the doors slowly closed again. You made eye contact in the reflective surface and both let sneaky smirks pull at the corners of your mouths.

Yes.

Good. You were lying before. Nothing was fine. But now it was.

More than fine.

The lift moved again and you saw how Joe’s eyes trailed down the reflection your body ’til they found your hand. You saw how Joe watched his own hand reach for yours.

Soft touches.

Fingers intertwining.

You held hands.

Joe squeezed your fingers and you held hands.

Smiles were no longer hidden. Bashful and blushing, absolutely, but nothing hidden as you held hands.

You held hands as the lift reached your floor.

You held hands as you both stepped out, sand from the beach still in between your toes.

You held hands as you walked down the corridor until you reached your room.

You held hands as you found your keycard to open your door, and then you held hands as you both stepped inside, and then you held hands until the door fell into its lock behind you.

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frogers, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #rpf #icallhimjoey #lost & found #lost and found #part four

284 notes · View notes

chelseaknoo · 5 days ago

Text

25 days with Eminem

Eminem x reader

Day 17

The house was full of holiday cheer as everyone gathered around the kitchen table, preparing to make homemade Christmas ornaments. The supplies were scattered everywhere: glitter, glue, paints, and various beads. Marshall had already managed to spill a whole jar of glitter, and now there was a sparkly trail from the kitchen to the living room.

"Well, there goes my idea for a clean table," you said, laughing as you looked at the mess starting to pile up.

Marshall grinned sheepishly, brushing the glitter off his hands. "Who knew glitter was so... rebellious?"

Meanwhile, Jackie was happily playing with a pile of beads, grabbing handfuls and dropping them on the floor. "No, no, no, Jackie, we don’t eat the beads," you said, trying to prevent him from putting them in his mouth for the third time.

"Jackie, buddy, we gotta get those beads out of your mouth!" Marshall said, laughing but also trying to intervene.

Hailie, sitting on the other side of the table, had a different idea for her ornament. She was determined to make the "coolest" design ever, which meant using an excessive amount of glue. It wasn’t long before the glue bottle squirted in an unexpected direction, landing on her hands and then the table, making everything stick together.

“Ugh, now my hands are stuck to the table!” Hailie groaned, holding up her hands like she was in distress.

Stevie, who had been focused on painting her ornament, suddenly made a “pop” sound with her paintbrush, sending a burst of blue paint across the table. The paint splattered right onto your favorite sweater, leaving a big blue blotch.

"Stevie!" you said, trying not to laugh but also annoyed. "We talked about *aiming* the paintbrush, not *firing* it."

Marshall couldn’t help but laugh, watching the whole chaos unfold. "Looks like it’s gonna be one of those days, huh?"

Meanwhile, Jackie was now sitting on the floor with a spoon he found in the kitchen, banging it against the metal mixing bowl. "Okay, Jackie, that’s enough, buddy," you said, but Jackie only giggled louder, enjoying the noise he was making.

“Alright, alright, let’s all just... focus, okay?" you said, trying to take control of the situation, but it was clear everyone was just having too much fun with the chaos.

The chaos only intensified as everyone got deeper into their ornament-making endeavors.

Marshall, trying to get his act together, grabbed a small plastic snowman figurine and began attempting to cover it in glitter. But somehow, his hand slipped, and the glitter exploded out of the bottle—creating a cloud of sparkles that somehow ended up in his hair, on his face, and all over the floor. “Well, this is going great," he said sarcastically, looking like a glitter bomb had gone off in his lap.

Meanwhile, Hailie, who had decided to create a glittery masterpiece using a tiny wooden star, ended up with the glue sticking her fingers together. "Mom, I think I’m stuck," she said, her voice full of mock horror. She held up her hand like a prisoner, the glue having solidified around her fingers. "Can someone help me get out of here? I'm a prisoner of my own art."

"Great, now we’ve got two problems," you laughed, walking over to help her, only for a small jar of beads to roll off the table and spill everywhere. The tiny beads bounced all over the floor like a confetti explosion, and Jackie, ever the curious one, dove straight into the pile, attempting to eat a few.

"Jackie, no!" Marshall called out, quickly rushing over to scoop him up. "You can't eat beads, buddy!" But Jackie just giggled, holding up a bead as though it was the greatest treasure in the world.

"Looks like we're in for a long day," you sighed, shaking your head but grinning. You tried to focus on your own ornament, a little wooden reindeer, but just as you were about to paint it, Jackie reached out and swiped your brush, flinging a streak of paint onto the nearby wall.

“Not the wall!” you groaned, running over to grab the brush back, but it was too late.

Stevie, meanwhile, was now in full “artistic genius” mode, mixing every color of paint together in a palette that looked like something from a child’s nightmare. "Look, Mom, I made rainbow paint!" she exclaimed proudly, but her creation was a terrifying shade of muddy brown. “I think it’s perfect for my gingerbread house!” she added, as if this was all part of some grand plan.

Marshall, noticing the disaster that was your workspace, stood up and reached for his phone. "I gotta take a picture of this," he said, but as he did, his elbow nudged a cup of hot cocoa that was precariously perched on the edge of the table. It tipped over, splashing onto the tablecloth and creating a small puddle that quickly soaked into the mess of papers, glitter, and beads.

“Oh my god, Marshall!” you gasped, but once again, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey, at least it’s not *my* sweater this time,” he joked, holding up his own mug as a shield.

In the chaos, the ornaments seemed to be the least of anyone’s concerns. Hailie was now wandering around with an entire piece of ribbon tangled around her neck, looking like a Christmas decoration herself, and Stevie had decided the paintbrush could double as a drumstick, tapping the table in rhythm. Jackie, however, seemed the most content out of everyone, giggling as he batted at an empty glue bottle on the floor, trying to roll it like a toy.

With beads everywhere, paint splatters on every surface, and sticky glue on everything you touched, it was clear this was going to be the most memorable (and possibly the most frustrating) ornament-making session ever. But with the laughter and antics filling the room, you knew that the imperfections were what would make this day unforgettable.

“We’re never going to finish these,” you said with a grin, glancing at Marshall, who only raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

“Who needs finished ornaments when we’ve got chaos like this?” he replied with a laugh, grabbing another ornament to continue his own messy creation. "This is the holiday spirit, right?"

“Absolutely,” you agreed, leaning back and shaking your head as you grabbed more supplies. The day might not go as planned, but it was exactly what made these moments so special.

The chaos continued to unfold in the most hilarious ways as the hours passed. Everyone seemed to have their own personal creative disasters happening at the same time.

Hailie, still struggling with the glue situation, now had half of her face covered in it after accidentally brushing it against the jar. “Okay, now I’m definitely a Christmas decoration,” she said, pulling a face in an attempt to show you her new "look." “You can’t even tell if I’m smiling or just stuck in an endless loop of glue.”

Stevie, not one to be left out, decided her ornament needed a little *extra* touch. She grabbed a whole tube of glitter and dumped it on top of her ornament as though it was a snowstorm in December. A good portion of it missed the ornament entirely and settled all over the table. "More glitter, more sparkle, right?" she said with a proud grin.

"That's... definitely one way to do it," you chuckled, trying to figure out how you were going to clean up the mountain of glitter at the end of this. You glanced over at Marshall, who was trying to avoid more of the mess.

As if on cue, Jackie decided that it was time to explore again. This time, he crawled straight for a small pile of beads that had made their way under the table. You reached for him just as he was about to stick a glitter-covered bead in his mouth, but of course, he wasn’t having any of that. He let out a wail so dramatic that you thought the neighbors might come knocking.

“Jackie, buddy, please don’t eat the beads,” Marshall said, lifting him up and offering him a toy car to distract him. Jackie, however, was far too determined to eat something shiny and small.

The toy car did nothing to deter him. He slapped it away with an annoyed grunt, trying to get back to his mission. You sighed, feeling like you were losing the battle with the tiny human who was determined to eat anything but food.

“Here, Jackie, look! Beads are for ornaments, not for snacks,” you said, trying to make a game of it. Jackie wasn’t convinced.

In the meantime, Hailie and Stevie had come to a temporary truce as they both noticed the rather large puddle of glitter that Marshall had caused earlier. Without missing a beat, they both grabbed handfuls of glitter and started adding it to Marshall’s ornament, effectively “fixing” it in their eyes.

"Hey, what's going on here?" Marshall said, noticing his ornament getting the "upgrade." He was holding his head in mock exasperation. "That’s my work of art! I don’t need more glitter!"

“Oh, come on, Dad, it’s better now,” Hailie said, grinning. “You know how much glitter brings the Christmas spirit."

Marshall shook his head. "It’s already a glitter disaster in here, but sure, let's just add more chaos."

Meanwhile, you were trying your best to finish your ornament, but Jackie’s constant attempts to escape his high chair and grab anything within reach had you running back and forth. Finally, you just sighed and set down the ornament you had barely started and went to scoop him up once again.

"Okay, little man, let's just go for a walk around the table," you said, trying to calm him down as you carried him around the chaos.

"How are we ever going to finish these ornaments?" you asked, looking at Marshall, who was now trying to rescue one of his sneakers from a pile of beads.

"I think we should just call it 'artistic expression,'" he said with a chuckle, glancing over at the mess. "Who needs clean, pristine ornaments when we have… whatever this is?"

"I think that's the best idea we've had all day," you agreed, raising an eyebrow at his masterpiece, which was now more glitter than ornament. "Let's just let the chaos reign."

And so, the day continued with more spills, more laughs, and plenty of moments where it seemed like you’d never see the floor again. But somehow, in the mess of it all, it was the most fun you’d had in ages, and you all knew that these ridiculous ornaments were going to be the most treasured decorations on the tree.

#eminem x reader #eminem #marshall mathers x reader #eminem imagine #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers #slim shady

30 notes · View notes

sepublic · 7 months ago

Text

Homesick: The Lost TOH S1B Episode!

So the storyboards for Homesick gave us the Healing Glyph, which incorporates the alchemical symbol for Water, just as the Fire Glyph has Fire (obviously) and Plant has Earth (not as obvious but still very much so). Makes sense, water is often associated with cleansing and healing; Take for example Avatar the Last Airbender! Not only that BUT;

Prior to Any Sport in a Storm, John Bailey Owen, a head writer for the show, tweeted this book plate! I and others lost our minds over what appeared to be a S1-era graphic with an unknown fifth glyph, and speculated about it…

Now we know. It was the Healing Glyph all along!!!!!! It was indeed another glyph! And its placement with the four we know makes me suspect the writers still intended for most spells to be accessed via glyph combos, it’s just that the base glyphs of the Titan would’ve been five and not four! And Healing being one of the Titan’s main glyphs in an earlier draft makes sense, given the Titan has to have VERY good health to stay alive in her rotted state for so long, as well as resurrecting Luz, being the literal grounds for life on the Boiling Isles, and even regenerating imperfectly, which was a concept brought up by the writers for why certain aspects of the isles are fleshy or have entire body parts.

Alas, the episode the Healing Glyph appears in —Homesick— wasn’t animated. But it does have Luz being in Hexside as a plot point, showing how she has to rely on the magic around her to make things for other classes, like potions. So this episode might’ve been drafted after the executive mandate for more Hexside, and been intended to air after The First Day even!

Given Homesick’s storyboards open with an introduction to its the crew members while No Tree Left Behind doesn’t… I think Homesick was made during a different stage of development, after the final version of S1A had been storyboarded in fact! While NTLB was before S1A’s final drafts were settled on, hence Lilith being more villainous like in the pilot and using Luz as a hostage (which detracts from Agony of a Witch’s significance as that sorta thing being the first time it happens). Adding to my point is how the demon hunters return in Homesick, with Tom alluding to Hooty’s Moving Hassle;

Of course, the name Homesick’s H doesn’t fit into ‘A witch loses a true way’ which has me suspect the titles for S1 weren’t finalized when this was storyboarded, either; So before we got S1A’s titles officially revealed. Or maybe the message would’ve ended differently, while still starting with ‘A witch loses’. I can imagine how development for a season can change past its midway point!!!

But yeah, this is the missing glyph! The lost episode! Why wasn’t it animated, I wonder; Maybe there wasn’t enough space for S1B and the writers felt every other episode shown took priority (I will not tolerate Sense and Insensitivity and Really Small Problems slander, King’s development DOES matter). Maybe they ran out of budget, they reached the episode limit for a season. S1 was meant to be 20 episodes but instead got 19, so S2 compensated with 21! We got an extra episode for S2 because of it… Only for the show to be cancelled after Agony of a Witch aired, so it really needed that extra episode to set up S3 ugh. Reminder that we lost fourteen episodes’ worth of screen time because of Disney!

Anyhow, Homesick could’ve been our missing episode to round out that number. Again, I don’t know why it was left out, but I wonder if the character of Caduceia (who appears in this episode) had her design repurposed for Raine Whispers, whose teenage appearance is alluded to later in S1B. But that photo could’ve been added late in production, during the time in which things were actually animated! If we look at the production codes for S1, it has 101-120… But there isn’t a 117.

I should clarify that production codes don’t always align to episodes’ intended order; Something Ventured, Someone Framed is 109 while Escape of the Palisman is 108. But SVSF has to happen before EotP, because EotP references Luz being enrolled in Hexside, which happens in SVSF. So as far as I can tell, Homesick (aka production code 117) happens after The First Day. We see Eda’s ring, so it’d also have to occur before Wing it like Witches!

But then again Clouds on the Horizon’s storyboards gave Amity the portal key when she lost that eleven episodes ago, so who knows what happens in production or what details get messed up by storyboarders, especially since production isn’t always chronological; Homesick’s storyboarders might not have known about the ring in WilW while working on the episode. The lack of Healing Glyph in other episodes makes me wonder if it was supposed to be Luz’s last one, even!

She doesn’t use it in WilW where it could’ve helped Amity at the end, but then maybe that episode was altered in response to no more Homesick. In fact maybe the episode was cut because the writers were concerned about the Healing Glyph not having established limits (which they learned from by later in S2 giving Luz’s invisibility combo the breathing requirement), which takes away a lot of tension and can write them into a corner. I know that feeling… In the episode it was powerful enough to heal Hooty of his entire illness, and as Dana says, limitation breeds innovation so such a boon for the protagonists had to be removed to make room for potential conflict and dilemmas later on.

Since Homesick’s conclusion depends a lot on and revolves around the Healing Glyph, they might not have been able to rework the plot to still make it work in the S1B context, not in enough time, plus we already know that the final show didn’t need the episode that much in the end if there’s no glyph for it to offer. And then the animators went back and edited WilW to foreshadow Raine since Caduceia as a character was now cut, leaving her design repurposed for Whispers instead.

On another note, Homesick’s photo of Manny with his face blurred also indicates he was meant to be a mystery as early as S1B, aka his death as a motivator for Luz was in plan at least since then; Makes sense, Manny giving Luz her favorite book is based off of Dana’s own childhood experience with her father, so she would have that in mind well before The Owl House was even an idea prompted out of spite! Additionally, Camila WAS meant to be a nurse, and this was changed at some point during or after S1B’s production!

And with all this speculation on development aside, I want to address how this could still fit into current canon; I’ve HC’ed that different Titans have different base glyphs and different designs, though the function of some spells may align (such as King and his papa having Light). So maybe Healing is the second of King’s glyphs, and Luz discovers it when Eda or someone else casts a healing spell!!! I could see a very abridged version of Homesick happening post-canon, after the show’s final scene.

#the owl house #the owl house pilot #glyphs #speculation #analysis

64 notes · View notes

allthelittlecreepycrawlies · 7 months ago

Note

For the "Alliances" theme, what about a sangyao arranged marriage where it's other people's idea and they fall in love after getting married?

"I'm sorry," had been the first thing his da-ge said when the negotiation party had returned from Lanling.

When their father had agreed to a betrothal arrangement with Jin Guangshan, pretty much no one in the sect believed it would actually hold. After all, it had become very apparent that Jin-furen had no interest in making the effort to have a second child with a husband who was probably already a carrier of an unfathomable number of intimate diseases by the time their son had been born, and it had been just as apparent that Jin Guangshan would never consider any of the numerous bastards he'd sired across the jianghu to be worth even half a moment of attention.

But, apparently, he'd found this 'Meng Yao' to be passable enough to use as a game piece, and had sent a demand for the agreement to be honored.

There had been some alterations to the terms, as Nie Huaisang found when he forced himself to read through all of the polite legalese.

Though he would still be the one to wear the veil, ostensibly taking on the wife role, he would generously be allowed to remain at home with his da-ge, with Meng Yao being registered as marrying into the Nie sect and moving to the Unclean Realms instead of the reverse.

Thus ridding Jin Guangshan of an unwanted son while still giving him a claim to the dowry.

The most auspicious date listed was probably the most egregious lie in all of it. Not even a whole month away, it gave the Jin sect an excuse not to throw a properly-designed wedding banquet while still letting them show off how rich they were in that they could still make a lavish party out of their cast-offs.

All in all, it was a blatant spit in the eye for both his brother and his future husband, and the only reason Nie Huaisang could see for his brother and the elders to have agreed to such rudeness was to keep him out of Lanling and out of Jin Guangshan's hands.

He figured would have to be better-behaved for his brother for awhile as thanks for taking such a beating to his pride.

Even if it meant, ugh, letting himself be dragged to saber training.

But the new terms of agreement honestly made him feel more sorry for his betrothed than for himself. Short of just getting rid of him like he'd gotten rid of all the others, Jin Guangshan couldn't have made his haughty disdain for his son -for everyone involved, really, but especially his son- more obvious, and unless Meng Yao was a complete idiot, he had to be aware of how little his father cared.

Well.

If he was going to make the best of this garbage fire of an arrangement, he was going to need to know more about his husband-to-be than his name and who his father was.

---

It was almost time for their wedding party to leave for Lanling, so once the maids had finished fussing over his hair and makeup, Nie Huaisang read the notes from his spies one more time, then tucked them into the sleeve of his innermost robe.

As the carriage made its way along the road, he turned the information over in his mind, letting options spool out in front of him like threads ready to be pulled taut by the loom.

None of the spies had had any objections to Meng Yao as a person. They'd all found him soft-spoken, gentle, and clever; courteous even to servants, and pleasant to look at. He was just beginning cultivational training, but was dedicated and a quick study.

All in all, an ideal spouse, really.

But every one of them had painted an unflattering picture of his heritage. His father had been a regular customer of a courtesan in a brothel near the border between the Jiang and Wen sects, who'd suddenly found excuses to stop visiting when she bore a child a year to the day before Jin Zixuan had been born.

What a mess.

No wonder Jin Guangshan had wanted so badly to make use of him.

No wonder Jin Guangshan had wanted so badly to get rid of him.

But Nie Huaisang could see the potential that Jin Guangshan was willing to squander. If Meng Yao proved willing to play along, they could make it so that he'd be worth more than the bride price Qinghe Nie had paid in return for him.

---

Even under the veil, Nie Huaisang could see the stiffness in his betrothed's posture.

Though Meng Yao was clearly doing his best to remain composed, a polite smile painted on his otherwise-neutral expression, he still gave off an air of a man awaiting execution, or a fox with its leg caught in a snare.

As they knelt side by side to begin the ceremony, Nie Huaisang used the heavy fabric of their sleeves to hide when he laced their fingers together and gave the hand he held a gentle squeeze.

Meng Yao started the smallest bit in surprise, then... relaxed. Not enough that he stopped looking trapped, but enough that it was evident he'd appreciated the gesture. And even losing just that tiny sliver of iron in his spine already made him look more attractive.

This was going to work out for them.

Nie Huaisang was sure of it.

(Nie Huaisang would make sure of it.)

#mdzs #sangyao #sangyao week #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #others mentioned #fanfic

58 notes · View notes

fallloverfic · 1 year ago

Text

"Nimona" movie artbook thoughts

There's so much neat stuff here. Spoilers for the movie below the cut but just dang I love this

So many neat ideas for long-haired Ambrosius. Ponytail Ambrosius! He looks so cute!

There was going to be a magazine cover with "Goldenloin bares it all" and I like to think part of this is in reference to the two pin-ups Nate drew (Pin-up 1 and Pin-up 2). It's neat to see how much they were building up his celebrity in more ways. In other concept art, he was on more magazine covers, and he shows up as part of a parade. There are lots of concepts of Goldenloin fans.

Also this Ambrosius test is amazing. The weird Todd/Ambrosius fusion in motion lol But you can tell they even modified it later to turn it into Todd. He's a bit softer here in a way and just... fun. Todd cosplaying as Ambrosius/having a nightmare/dream about it aldkjalj

It was also interesting to see more confident Ballister. There's an animation test with him fighting some Institute guards, and it's very clear in early concept art (from that popular viral test back in 2021 as well) that he was more confident in earlier production.

More adorable Ambrosius/Ballister moments, and some cute Ambrosius. They're absolutely sweet.

And unfortunately one of the biggest losses in the movie: the amazing stuff they show for Meredith Blitzmeyer. At one point she was going to be covered in magic tattoos.

"For a long time, the character of Meredith Blitzmeyer was in the film. She served many different functions in many different iterations. At one point, she had a magical van that was bigger on the inside. In another, she was covered from head to toe in magical tattoos. And in another, she was the head of a vast underground society, called the Silver Society, comprised of all the magical creatures forced into hiding by the institute. Ultimately, the story went in a different direction, but her design and model were so beloved that she wasn’t lost but repurposed into The Queen." This all sounds so cool (except the repurposed into a character who dies in the first 10 minutes of the movie part T-T).

She has an entire spread. It's neat that she got to show up in some form (when they recycled her design for Valerin), but I love the idea of the Silver Society and her place in it and also Ballister having more friends and just ugh. These designs and world-building are so cool. I wish we'd seen all of them in the movie.

Also finally an eye dings chart! With everything clearly explained lol Neat to know I wasn't imagining some in-between diamond/square shape when Ballister is changing.

And this pride flags spread! There's a drag queen club! I just love all of this!! Seeing them spread throughout the movie is fun but it's neat to see the collection here!

Also this line: "In actuality, there has not been a monster attack since the first, so the fear and belief of the possibility is the only thing keeping the populace in check." It's neat to get confirmation of that.

Also a very much more violent Nimona was in the early/late-ish production lol.

José Manuel Fernández Oli talked on his Facebook collection of concept art about there at one point being an underground of outcast shapeshifters, and I don't know if that's what we're seeing here, but we were at least maybe also going to get more magical people (which matches the Meredith plans)??

Weres? People with fire magic? Satyrs? Demons? Elves? Or just a wider range of shapeshifter people. That would have been so cool.

There are environment designs for the Institute, Ballister and Nimona's hide-out, people designs, a few more test animations they haven't put up elsewhere, more Nimona shapeshifts (more dogs and cats, a second kind of gnome, more of her bulkier, muscular design, more types of dragons, a goat, more ancient Nimona concepts, plant monster Nimona, alien(?) Nimona, etc.). We nearly had goblin Director. Older Gloreth concepts... It's all really awesome.

All in all, a lot of really cool stuff.

156 notes · View notes

aerialflight · 5 months ago

Text

fic rec list

I am into such random fandoms at the moment and I NEED to spread the word on how fantastic these fics are so people would get into those fandoms too. Join me in my rabbit holes!

[Dimension 20: Fantasy High]

serendipities of the mundane kind by fangirl_squee

Ships: Figueroth Faeth/Ayda Aguefort, Riz Gukgak/Fabian Aramais Seacaster, Kristen Applebees/Tracker O'Shaughnessey

The Bad Kid's lives wind through the world a little differently, but some friendships are just meant to be.

(ships aside, this is a fic about friendship! and it's absolutely beautiful!! i loved how all the relationships formed and how all of them meet under different yet plausible circumstances. they meet in pairs and then in groups, all of them introduced to each other slowly yet organically. i'm so in love with each character's journey and how meant-to-be the bad kids are. absolutely recommend this!)

thwick thwack by graeskies

Ship: Riz Gukgak/Fabian Aramais Seacaster

Eyes narrowed, slitted pupils so thin they could pick a lock. Wide, fin-like ears pressed flat back against his head—'airship ears', Adaine had said once, and it made Riz laugh so hard he had forgotten what he had been reacting to in the first place. Tail thrashing back and forth, making a rhythmic thwick thwack against his legs, or his briefcase, or both. Extra-sharp teeth bared wide, hissing with a confidence he didn't have in freshman year. Riz's threat displays were hypnotizing. Fabian almost forgot the punchline of his own joke.

(riz acting on his instincts and fabian Vibing with it so hard is a trope i never knew i wanted until this fic fnieowfnpewa.)

not by design (again, again) by jackpack

Ship: Riz Gukgak/Fabian Aramais Seacaster

To his knowledge, the world is right when Riz gets home, right as he falls into bed and curls up with a grin on his face, right as he closes his eyes and passes sometime in the wee hours of the morning, content that tomorrow was going to be even better. And, then, he wakes up to an alarm set for school. -- It's freshman year, and Riz has a found family to find. Again.

(time travel time travel time travel!!! the bad kids all struggling to find each other and solve the mystery! ugh, these kids have my whole heart and i loved every minute of this.)

Light My Fire by Anonymous (locked, need account to read)

Ship: Riz Gukgak/Fabian Aramais Seacaster

The sheet is too short to reach Riz. Fabian fully unfurls it, stretches both his arms as far as he can, thinks about fully letting go and grabbing The Ball midair, trying to tuck and roll and maybe take some of the damage for him. Despite his efforts, he's just a few feet shy of Riz, limp and unconscious and hurtling downwards, just like he was at the Row and the Ruction. Fabian, once again, is too slow and weak and incompetent to help him. Fabian screws his eye shut, half because he can't stand to watch Riz's body hit the ground and half because he feels like if he just believes hard enough, he can somehow save him. - I thought too hard about the time Fabian summoned a fire elemental that saved Riz's life and also kissed him and then nobody ever mentioned it again. This is the result.

(i caught FEELINGS when reading about this moment in the sophomore campaign, embellished and seen through the eyes of a desperate fabian. there's something about fabian being sincere and brave that always hits me in the chest like a hammer.)

meet me in the woods by macaronidoodles

A thought comes to him, and he pulls out the little rock he’d artificed out of his pocket. It’s probably stupid, he thinks, looking at it, so small in his hands. But there’s no one around to make fun of him, and if even one of his friends could hear… It’s Gorgug, he whispers. Keep going. * (in the forest of the nightmare king, gorgug gives everyone a chance to catch their breath)

(i will never be over that fucking line and all that it does. the hope, the love, the determination to keep moving forward, knowing that you are not alone. fnewifoewpa GOD.)

An Abjurative Wizard's Guide to Entrapment and Matchmaking, by Aelwyn Abernant by AgentStannerShipper

Ship: Riz Gukgak/Fabian Aramais Seacaster

“I cannot be in love with Riz Gukgak,” Fabian says. “I cannot be in love with The Ball. Under no circumstances can that be a thing that is happening.” Across the room, sitting in Riz’s chair, her feet up on Riz’s desk, ninety percent of her attention on one of Riz’s case files open in her lap, Aelwyn does the incredibly helpful thing of saying, “Uh-huh.”

(this is THE fic that got me into the ship. fabian's feelings of admiration and love for riz shines through and i'm so in love with how in love fabian is. seeing it from his point of view made me realize just how good of a person and character riz gukgak is. love this fic so much!)

Ring a Bell by Tangerine_Blast

“You are drunk,” Adaine accused. “I’m not-” Aelwyn protested but stopped herself mid word and pinched the bridge of her nose, “I don’t mean to alarm you, little sister, but I think you may be suffering from some severe memory loss.” Adaine was about to snap back at her but froze as the words sunk in. Memory loss. Yes. That would certainly explain why she was in a different outfit then she remembered. “What did you do?” *** The Bad Kids wake up on the first day of their freshman year. Or… no, it’s almost two years later and everything is so vastly different. Where are they? Who are all these people claiming to be their family and friends?

(*SCREAMS* god, it hit me so hard how all the bad kids grew up so much from freshman year?? they're such different people in sophomore year compared to the beginning. every single character, including the side characters, are going Through It and i wanted to hug all of them so. bad. nfewiofpewa absolutely a must read, i love every single character here so so much!!)

[Naruto]

Into the Wide Blue Yonder by OneEyedRaven

Ship: Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Sasuke

“Take off your mask,” the clan head demanded. He might as well have ordered Kakashi to strip naked – to reveal his face to all these strangers felt as vulnerable as baring his neck to a sword. “You will not be allowed to hide your face here, Sharingan-thief.” - Kakashi gets misplaced in time and taken in by the Uchiha clan during the warring era, thanks to the mysterious one-armed man, Sasuke.

(i've never been into this ship but my god they make it work here in the most delightful slowburn i've read in a long while. i am rooting for them so hard, they're trying to change the world and make it better and i am so here for it! yes! disestablish the corrupt power structures of konoha from the very beginning! hell yeah!!!)(also kakashi's growth and characterization makes me want to cry he's doing so well considering all the bullshit he's lived through fnewfew)

fluffy clouds and a tinge of wonder by TheOneKrafter

In a world obsessed with killing and dying, Seiko is mostly concerned with chasing off her boredom. The Academy wasn’t exactly intellectually stimulating, but dying in the second shinobi war sounded like a long walk off a short pier. Everyone is always so stressed about avoiding attention, or min-maxing skills in situations like this. Seiko is of the opinion that those people need to chill the hell out. Maybe play a little shogi. Death comes for them all anyways. Better to enjoy this all while it lasts. (genius self insert stumbles into disrupting a timeline with the intentionality of an elephant trampling a very fancy tea shop.) (updates weekly-ish.)

(*cackles* i love how built the world and relationships are in this fic. the SI is not overpowered, actually intelligent but not omnipresent, and has actual social skills instead of being an oblivious airhead. i appreciate the time and care that's taken to build the friendships the SI has and am eager to see how the plot turns out in the future!)

How to Redeem Your Past Mistakes, Commit Mild Treason, and Accidentally Build a Family by themidnightguardian

If Kakashi hadn’t seen Naruto living in squalor and Sasuke’s personal trauma shrine and whatever civilian fuckery was happening at Sakura’s house, he’d have at least tried to fail them even if logic told him the Elder Council would never let it fly. Screw the Hokage for that. * * * * * * * * * * When the Sandaime showed him Naruto’s apartment, he didn’t think that was going to be the tip of the iceberg that was the shitshow of his soon-to-be team. But as it turned out, Naruto wasn't the only one with a less-than-optimal home life. And as it turned out, Kakashi was apparently the only person in Konoha who cared.

(*hugs all of team 7* they are family and it's the council's mistake in thinking this wouldn't happen. kakashi is Doing His Best and doing Well and i want to pat him on the head in appreciation for his efforts.)

[Diamond no Ace]

Lay Sunflowers at My Grave by Kinryuuki

Ship: Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun

"If you could go back, and do it over. What would you do?"

(literally the best time travel fic since trajectory of laughter, i am OBSESSED.)

Aromantic Way to Propose by blue_flowers_bouquets (cianderia)

Ship: Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun

Miyuki Kazuya doesn't get romance, and he's painfully aware of it. Sawamura Eijun is a hopeless romantic to boot, but he insists that they should date. Their relationship goes as smooth as you could expect.

(so sweet and fluffy! exploring how an aromantic and romantic person can work, yet the characters stay in character! i really like how this was managed and written, absolutely give it a read!)

[Bridgerton]

a thousand cuts by wall_e_nelson

Ship: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sharma

Every single day, Anthony tries very hard not to walk directly into the ocean. A collection of non-linear one-shots, headcanons, AUs, and missing scenes for Anthony Bridgerton. (this story was written in the year between s1 and s2. the character is based in the little we knew of s1 show!Anthony, pulling the rest of him and the world needed from the books.)

(it feels insane to me now that this was the first fic i read in this fandom. this isn't even my fucking fandom, i never even watched the show or read the books but god, god, this made me cry more than 10 fucking times. i can't remember the last time my heart ached so badly for a character, and anthony bridgerton is a phenomenal character indeed.)

Unspooled Thread by happilyinsane13, itakethewords (Itakethewords)

Ship: Benedict Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington

Benedict's life changed the moment Lady Danbury commanded, “Follow that Featherington.” The year is 1813 and Benedict's sister Daphne has just made her debut. He thought he knew how this season would go. Little did he suspect he would stumble on the youngest Featherington daughter's biggest secret. -- A complete, Benelope canon re-write, starting from S1, Ep1 all the way through season 3.

(this fic has RUINED me, i can't unsee the potential this ship holds. they're artists who bond over art! they admire and protect and care about one another! it's the slowest of slow burns that immediately catches fire before running around in panic! it's a proper friends to lovers fic done incredibly well!)(i started reading this author's other benedict/penelope fics and GOD IT'S SO GOOD FNEWIFOEW.)(i'm ruined! this rare pair has ruined me!!)(i have no regrets.)

[Jujutsu Kaisen]

The Phantom Guardian by MissingN000

Ships: Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru, Kugisaki Nobara/Zenin Maki, Fushiguro Megumi/Itadori Yuuji, Inumaki Toge/Okkotsu Yuuta

There's something about this girl, like looking in a funhouse mirror a third of his size. “Oi, kid,” Toji says. “It’s you, isn’t it?” The girl glares daggers at him from behind a pair of red-rimmed glasses too big for her tiny face. She’s looking at him like he’s totally crazy, which isn’t entirely untrue. “Huh? Who the heck are you?” In lieu of answering, he asks, “What’s your name?” The girl scowls. “Maki.” “Maki,” he repeats, and it’s like a missing piece of his soul falls back into place. The record of his life before he fought the Six-Eyes brat is a long, impossibly white scroll of nothing -- but written on it in faint letters is the name of a child, a child with a delicate name that brushed the heavens, spun a prayer into letters; a name that began with an M, and it ended in i, too. “Maki,” he says again. “I think you’re my daughter.” -------- Toji makes a mistake. It changes everything.

(*running around throwing glitter like a sparkling system* and you get found a found family! and you get a found family! and you-)(but seriously, this is the one and only fic i'll read from this fandom, i legit don't care about anything else except these fuckers in this fucking fic. they are all disasters and i love that every single character here is traumatized and still somehow ruining themselves while thriving?? it's amazing.)

[Star Wars]

You and I (drink the poison from the same vine) by northpeach, wolfsrainrules

When one wakes up from death into a universe many of us have dreamed of, truthfully Kiyo can say it was both easier and harder then she thought it would be. Yes, she's gonna get a lightsaber. Yes, she's gonna bite someone to get a bes'bev. No, she's not forgetting where she's come from but she cannot grieve for a lifetime. Not when this life has so much potential. Has so much to offer. Not when she knows exactly how well Mandalorian and Jedi cultures fit together. Absolutely not, especially since she knows Jaster Mereel has a 700 page love letter written to his people to publish. She's going to get her hands on it and read it if it's the last thing she does.

(*breathes* i need this to update so bad. i usually hate SI fics in star wars, but this fic is amazing?? again, i NEED TO KNOW where this is going, my impatience is clawing my brain.)

(They Were) Made For Us by Echuta (setoboo)

Ship: Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi

The Kaminoan tilts his head with a small smile. As if he’s trying to be indulgent for the Jedi’s sake. “Well yes, you and your fellow Jedi, Master Kenobi. They were made for the Jedi - and since the Jedi serve the Republic. It was implied they would do so too.” ‘They were made for the Jedi.’ Obi-Wan thinks in a daze. Clinging to that one sentence and grappling with all the implications buried within it as the Force around him pulses with tension. ‘For...for us? For me?’ What can that possibly mean? ---------------- Or; the Clones are really, and truly, perfectly made for the Jedi. The real issue is that it seems the Jedi are just as perfectly made for the Clones. This throws a major wrench in the works for the Darkside when the Jedi aren't very willing to let their men die. Not even on the senate's orders.

(i keep rereading this, i'm so obsessed with this kind of trope where people can read others' souls and just know who they are. this is the Shit for me, i was doomed from the start fnewifoewaef)

[Top Gun] (the most unexpected fandom to get into, watched it 2 months ago and it's completely taken over my life HELP ME-)

Where Are You Going by adiduck (book_people)

Ship: Tom Iceman Kazansky/Pete Maverick Mitchell

They’ve both heard all the philosophical bullshit, of course. Poems about your soul forever seeking its other half, impassioned treatises they were supposed to read in high school English about how you know where your own limbs are, quotes from long-dead guys about physical distance but hearts taking up the same space--that kind of bullshit. Maverick never put much stock in that kind of thing--he’d hated school. It probably shouldn’t have been surprising that Ice also really did not care about the science or philosophy--they were supposed to be perfect for each other, after all. (Or: There’s a handshake in the O Club the first night of Top Gun, and the very bearing of “magnetic North” shifts permanently under Ice and Mav’s feet)

(soulmate fic!! it's done so well and the relationship negotiations and trying to make it work is so up my alley. it's not an instant love soulmate fic, which i appreciate a lot, and i just love this author's characterization of of ice and maverick. definitely recommend this author's other works too, i just love the way they write in general, in whatever fandom they are in XD)

A Higher Fidelity by sintra

Ship: Tom Iceman Kazansky/Pete Maverick Mitchell

“C’mon.” Tori nudges him with an elbow. “C’mon. He’s cute. You can admit that one thing but you can’t admit this?” Gritting his teeth, Ice thinks very carefully about his next words. “He’s…” he trails off. “Some would say that…Mitchell is not. Unpleasant. To look at.” (Alternatively: the one where Ice and Mav learn to park bad, eat good, and love even better.)

(i want to kiss the author, ice's characterization here made me laugh so many times, omfg. absolute treasure of a fic! the narration and ice's thoughts were so fucking funny and maverick is just perfectly maverick in this haha! absolutely recommend for a good laugh with some extra sweetness.)

Precipice by V_Evergreen

Ship: Tom Iceman Kazansky/Pete Maverick Mitchell

Dating, it turns out, does not get easier with age. Alternately: [“Ice,” Maverick said slowly, “do you have a crush on me?” Ice flushed. “Shut up.” Maverick grinned. “How embarrassing.”]

(middle aged people going on first dates!! it's so sweet and snappy, i love how well-worn yet new this fic feels when it comes to their relationship. it feels both fresh yet comfortable and i felt warm reading this. <3)

Flowers for Sale by Owner by aelibia

Ship: Tom Iceman Kazansky/Pete Maverick Mitchell

Most people would do anything to stop the flowers from coming. Maverick is not most people.

(THE FUNNIEST FREAKING HANAHAKI FIC I'VE EVER READ HOLY SHIT! PLEASE READ, I CRIED FROM LAUGHING SO HARD FNEIWOFEWA)(never in a MILLION YEARS did i think about this aspect of the hanahaki curse, INCREDIBLE.)

I Need You to Live by PurpleArrowzandLeather

When Bradley finishes playing his dad's song at the Hard Deck, he sees a familiar figure collapse on the beach. Thinking the worst, he does everything in his power to make sure he doesn't lose him.

(i am so weak for fics that involve bradley and maverick re-conciliating. really great what if scenario done right and i definitely recommend this author's other top gun fics, they do gen fics for top gun really well!)

lost fight, grip tight on a heavy rope by writteninwaves

Bradley Bradshaw does not do regrets. Until he does. But in his fifteen years of self-imposed exile, there comes a time when even his stubborn will breaks. When Bradley overhears devastating news about his dad, he realizes just how much he lost and wonders if anything was worth it in the first place. Part 1 of revival

(mav is presumed dead and bradley comes back home because of it. the exploration of grief and how much maverick mattered to so many people is *chefs kiss* done fantastic here. there's a part 2 to this series when mav shows up and let me tell you, it's so good and i absolutely recommend that as well haha!)

What's In A Name? by maverickazansky

Ship: Tom Iceman Kazansky/Pete Maverick Mitchell

Maverick had never put any thought into Bradley not knowing the difference in surnames between the people in his family, nor his own. Nor had his put any thought into the fact that Bradley was a child. He probably should have.

(it's so cute!! it's so so so cute!!! i both laughed and cooed at little bradley, this is so ridiculously fluffy hahaha!)

With the Stars in the Darkness, and Love in the Light by flyingfightingfishy for LadyLanera

Ship: Tom Iceman Kazansky/Pete Maverick Mitchell

Ice cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I was calling about Wood and Wolf's wedding." "Oh yeah! I was sort of wondering about that. When I talked to Wolf a couple weeks ago he said the invitations would be out soon but I haven't gotten one.” Ice cleared his throat again, not quite sure how to address the situation. "Yes. Well. That's because it's with mine. Which is why I called.” Mav made a noise of mild confusion from the other end of the phone. ”They sent them together?" "Ah, no,” Ice said, taking a deep breath. “They invited us. Together. As a couple. Same invitation." OR Ice and Mav get invited to Hollywood and Wolfman's wedding together. They're not a couple. They decide not to correct the assumption.

(i wanted to smash these two idiots together, ice's anxiety was so palpable and real and i wanted to shake the man the entire time omg.)

[Crossovers]

Jokers to the Right by adiduck (book_people) for Serie11

Fandoms: The Saint (1997), Mission Impossible

Ship: Ethan Hunt/Simon Templar

It was supposed to be an easy one. (Or: Ethan Hunt is trying to save the world. Simon Templar is trying to rob an asshole blind. They work it out.) Part 1 of if you ever leave, i'm coming with you

(my goddamn gateway drug into this crack ship that i'm now absolutely OBSESSED with. truly and sincerely, this ship has overrun my life and i can't stop listening to lupin the third ost because it gives off spy vibes SO HARD.)(this ship is just, so much fun?? the banter, the fact they're both hyper competent people in the same field of work, whether that means working against or with each other. simon is fascinating and ethan is so inherently good and they circle around each other flirting SO MUCH LIKE NFEWNIFWE.)(the rest of the series is so good too and i absolutely recommend reading Serie11 too, they both herald this ship and god, GOD, i need more of this ship with their dynamics, it's AMAZING!! Please please give it a go and read!)

believe in you by Serie11

Fandoms: The Saint (1997), Mission Impossible

Ship: Ethan Hunt/Simon Templar

“I’ve sort of been wondering why you kept asking me out,” Julia confesses. “When it was pretty obvious that you weren’t going to make a move.” “Obvious,” Ethan echoes. He doesn’t like to think that he’s obvious about anything that he isn’t doing incredibly on purpose. He doesn’t like to think that even after all these years of only showing what he wants to show, there are still things that people can see about him that he would prefer them not to know. “This is date five, Ethan,” Julia says, lifting her eyebrows. “And you haven’t tried to kiss me once.” - Ethan's trying to escape from his past – but that's not exactly easy when he doesn't really want to run.

(a rewrite of mission impossible 3 with saintspy (this ship's name) in it. everything fits! the movie somehow has even MORE stakes and i got so hooked into the relationship drama between our mains and julia is so great here?? this fic is angsty and is in the break up era of their relationship, it's so juicy!! uggh, i love how this author writes, they really dig into ethan's psyche and i'm utterly enamored by it! even if you're not into saintspy, this fic's exploration of ethan still makes it compelling, so i definitely recommend you to check it out!)

run in the shadows by Serie11 for adiduck (book_people)

Fandoms: The Saint (1997), Mission Impossible, Top Gun

Ship: Ethan Hunt/Simon Templar

The changing soulmark on his wrist is a secret that Ethan has kept for as long as he can remember - one that he never thought he would have to explain to anybody, until a man with Peter Mitchell written on his skin appears to upend his entire life.

(*screams* soulmate fic! soulmate fic! this fic is separate from the two fics above, but man, it dives so hard into Ethan and his backstory on, "what if ethan hunt and pete mitchell are the same person". it's handled so well and the exploration on identity and what it means for both ethan and simon is so great!! a must read that will definitely win you over to this ship, i will die on this hill!)

Give and Take by GreenGlassMountain

Fandoms: The Saint (1997), Mission Impossible

Ship: Ethan Hunt/Simon Templar

When Max hires Ethan to steal the NOC list, she gives him free reign over his team members, with one exception. For such a massive heist, he must recruit the best thief in the business: a man known only as The Saint.

(i recommended this before and i need to recommend this again! seriously, it's a delightful first meeting fic between ethan and simon and the author did it so right! the dynamics, the cautious back and forth, and the fact this fic is set in the first mission impossible movie is all kinds of intriguing!! i'm so happy that this small ship is growing bit by bit and i'm so excited to see what comes next with this fic XD)

#Fic Rec #Fic Rec List #Dimension 20 #D20 #Fantasy High #Naruto #Diamond no Ace #Bridgerton #Jujutsu Kaisen #Star Wars #Top Gun #Crossovers #Mission Impossible #The Saint (1997)#Saintspy #IceMav

49 notes · View notes