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lila-lou · 3 months ago

Text

✨Classic✨

Summary: Ben is cocky, relentless, and completely fixated on you, especially the curves he can’t stop staring at. His teasing turns shameless, his comments indecent, and his obsession with your boobs impossible to ignore.

-Requested-

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language

Word Count: 11512

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

The bell above the diner door jingled, and you didn’t look up right away. It was just another busy Saturday shift at Carter’s Diner, and you were already juggling too much—balancing college classes during the week and working here on weekends to make ends meet. But a nudge at your side broke your focus, and you glanced over to see your boss, Lindsay, standing next to you, wide-eyed and biting her lip like a schoolgirl with a crush.

"He’s here", she whispered, leaning in conspiratorially.

You frowned. "Who?", you asked, finishing the note for table five’s bacon-and-eggs special.

Lindsay didn’t answer right away. Instead, she nodded toward the booth at the far end of the diner. Your gaze followed hers, landing on a man sliding into the cracked leather seat like he owned the place. His supe suit was unmistakable—green and gold, hugging his broad shoulders and chest. He wore it like armor, and the confidence radiating off him made it clear he knew everyone in the room was watching.

"That’s Soldier Boy?", you asked in disbelief, keeping your voice low.

Lindsay nodded, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "He’s been coming here for months. Loves the chili and fries. Looks even better in person, doesn’t he?", she said, nudging you again with an elbow.

You wrinkled your nose and shook your head. "Ugh, I don’t like supes", you muttered under your breath. "And him even less. I’ve only heard bad things about that guy".

Lindsay gasped, pretending to be scandalized. "Oh, come on, you don’t know him. And he’s got that old-school charm. They don’t make men like that anymore".

"Yeah, because that’s probably for the best", you replied, grabbing the coffee pot. Lindsay was still watching you expectantly, her grin almost infectious.

"Be nice", she called after you as you made your way toward the booth. "You know, he tips well!".

You didn’t bother answering her. Instead, you tightened your grip on the coffee pot and walked toward the booth, your heart beating faster with every step.

Ben had been coming to Carter’s Diner for months now. It was the only place in the city that felt like a time capsule—the cracked tiles, the faded wallpaper, and the smell of cheap coffee and sizzling grease. Nothing here had changed since the ’80s, and for him, that was the point. The world outside had moved on in ways he didn’t quite understand, and this place was his escape from it.

As you walked up to his booth, coffee pot in hand, he didn’t look up at first. His gaze was fixed on the laminated menu, though he didn’t really need it. The same chili-and-fries combo was always his order. But then you spoke.

“Coffee?”, Your voice was soft but confident, with a natural warmth that cut through the background hum of the diner.

Ben’s eyes flicked up, and for a moment, he just stared.

Damn.

He hadn’t noticed you before—must’ve been new. But now, seeing your face, he couldn’t look away. There was something about you, something fresh and untouched by the world’s grime. His gaze lingered a second too long, taking in your bright eyes and the slight curl of your lips. He felt a twinge deep in his chest, a strange mix of curiosity and desire, like a spark catching fire.

And then his eyes dropped lower.

The tight uniform you wore did little to hide the curve of your chest. Those big, perfect tits stretched the fabric just enough to make it clear that whoever designed the diner’s dress code hadn’t thought about women like you. Ben shifted in his seat, his jaw tightening as a familiar heat stirred in him. The slight twitch in his pants was unmistakable, and he shifted his legs, adjusting to keep himself in check.

He leaned back in the booth, his lips curving into a sly, knowing grin. “You new, sweetheart?”, he asked, his voice a low rumble that was equal parts charming and cocky.

“Just here on the weekends”, you replied, your tone polite but clipped. “College bills don’t pay themselves”.

Ben arched a brow, his grin widening as he tilted his head, studying you like you were the most interesting thing he’d seen in years. “College, huh?”, he said, the rich timbre of his voice drawing more attention than you’d have liked. “Smart girl. What are you studying?”.

You sighed, already regretting answering his question. “Literature”, you replied curtly, tapping your pen against the edge of your notepad. “Anything else you’d like to know, or should I just take your order?”.

Ben didn’t answer right away. His gaze had drifted, dropping shamelessly to your chest again, where the snug diner uniform strained over your curves. His smirk grew, slow and wicked, as if he didn’t care one bit about being caught.

"Literature", he said finally, his voice laced with amusement. His eyes flicked back up to meet yours, the intensity in them making you stand a little straighter. "Didn’t peg you for a bookworm, sweetheart. But I guess I shouldn’t judge a book by its…cover". His eyes dipped again, lingering for just a second too long, making the double meaning of his words painfully obvious.

Your jaw tightened, and you resisted the urge to dump the coffee pot in his lap. Instead, you gave him a tight smile, your pen scratching furiously against the notepad as you scribbled down his order. "Chili and fries, right? Got it. I’ll put it in".

Before you could turn away, his hand shot out, gently brushing your wrist. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks. "Hey, take it easy", he said, his voice softer now but still laced with that maddening confidence. "Didn’t mean to piss you off. Just…appreciating the view".

Your eyes snapped to his, and for a moment, the air between you crackled with tension. He looked at you like he was daring you to respond, his smirk still firmly in place. It was infuriating—he was infuriating—but there was something disarming about the way he held your gaze, like he wasn’t used to people calling him out and maybe even liked it when they did.

"Well, maybe next time you can ‘appreciate the view’ without making it so obvious", you shot back, pulling your wrist free and stepping back. "Enjoy your coffee, Soldier Boy".

Ben chuckled as you walked away, the deep, rumbling sound following you all the way back to the counter. You could feel his eyes on you the whole time, but you didn’t look back. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

"Well, that was something", Lindsay teased, leaning against the counter as you slapped the order slip down. "You might be the first woman to ever give him a hard time. Most girls would’ve melted into a puddle by now".

"Yeah, well, I’m not most girls", you muttered, reaching for the coffee pot again, trying to ignore the way your heart was still pounding.

Lindsay grinned, watching as you busied yourself with anything to avoid glancing back at the booth. "No, you’re not", she said knowingly. "And that’s exactly why he’s gonna keep coming back".

You didn’t respond, but deep down, you had a feeling she might be right.

The next week, like clockwork, the bell above the diner door jingled at the same time it had the week before. You were wiping down the counter, trying to get through another weekend shift without running yourself ragged, when you glanced up and froze.

There he was. Soldier Boy—Ben—strolling in. The grin on his face was unmistakable, and the moment his eyes landed on you, it only widened. You cursed under your breath. Of course, he’d come back.

“Guess who’s here”, Lindsay whispered, nudging your side as she passed with a tray of plates. Her smirk was infuriating, but you ignored it, grabbing the coffee pot like it was a shield.

He walked straight to his usual booth, sliding in like he hadn’t thought twice about it. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time, but you kept your head down, busying yourself with meaningless tasks to delay the inevitable. Finally, though, there was no excuse left. You straightened your apron, took a deep breath, and walked over to him.

“Coffee?”, you asked, keeping your tone as neutral as possible.

Ben’s grin widened the moment you reached his booth, and he leaned back against the cracked leather like he didn’t have a care in the world. "Sweetheart, you already know the answer to that", he said, his voice dripping with playful arrogance. "Keep it coming. Best damn coffee in the city".

You rolled your eyes, pouring the coffee without a word. He didn’t take his eyes off you for a second, his gaze heavy and lingering, making you hyperaware of every move you made. As the coffee filled his cup, you caught his smirk out of the corner of your eye, and it made your stomach twist—not from nerves, but from irritation. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

"Chili and fries again?", you asked, pulling out your notepad and pen, eager to cut the interaction short.

"Of course", Ben said, his tone smug. "A classic, just like me".

You raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him. "Sure", you replied dryly, scribbling the order down. "Anything else? Or are you sticking with ‘just like you?’”.

Ben laughed, the sound rich and deep, like he found you genuinely amusing. It annoyed you that it was… a little charming. "Oh, feisty today, huh?", he said, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table. His grin didn’t waver. "Gotta say, I like that. A little spark keeps things interesting".

"Glad I could keep you entertained", you muttered, stuffing the notepad back into your apron.

Ben wasn’t done, though—not even close. "You know", he began, his tone slower now, like he was letting you in on a secret, "most girls would be falling all over themselves to get a chance to talk to me. But you? Nah, you’re all business. It’s… refreshing. Kinda cute, even".

Your jaw tightened, and you shot him a pointed look. "And yet, here you are. Same booth, same order. I guess I must be doing something right".

His eyes lit up at that, and he let out another laugh, his head tilting back slightly. "Oh, you’re good. Real good", he said, pointing at you as if you’d just told the punchline to the best joke he’d ever heard. "I like you, Y/N. You’re sharp. Makes me wanna stick around and see what else you’ve got".

"Thrilled to hear it", you replied flatly, turning on your heel. "Your food will be out in a few".

As you walked away, you could feel his gaze on you, practically burning a hole through your back. You set the order slip on the kitchen counter with more force than necessary, muttering under your breath. Lindsay caught your expression and sidled up beside you, smirking.

"He’s got you riled up, doesn’t he?", she teased, crossing her arms. "I don’t blame you, though. Guy’s a piece of work—but he’s hot".

"Yeah, well, he’s also full of himself", you muttered, refusing to look back at the booth. "Bet he thinks the whole world revolves around him".

"Doesn’t it?", Lindsay quipped, winking.

You sighed, trying to shake off the irritation. But when you snuck a glance toward Ben’s booth, you caught him looking straight at you, his grin still firmly in place. He raised his coffee cup in a mock toast, like he knew exactly how much he was getting under your skin.

Damn him.

Four weeks had passed, and like clockwork, Ben showed up every Saturday. Same time, same booth, same order. But something had shifted. By now, you couldn’t help but notice how his flirtation had gotten bolder with each visit, his comments dirtier, his gaze lingering longer than was polite. He made no effort to hide the way he looked at you, especially when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

And while you hated to admit it—even to yourself—you found yourself looking forward to it.

Still, there was a growing frustration simmering beneath the surface. For all his swagger, all his cocky charm, Ben hadn’t actually made a move. Not a real one, anyway. Sure, he called you “sweetheart” and let his eyes wander far too much, but he hadn’t asked you out. And while you’d never admit it out loud, it bothered you. Part of you had started expecting it, even wanting it.

Today, however, things were different. You’d been called into work earlier than usual, and with your shift almost over, you were trying to juggle your plans for the evening. There was a book you desperately needed for Monday’s class, and the bookstore was closing in twenty minutes. You didn’t have time to change before leaving, so you’d come to work in the clothes you planned to wear out: a tight, ridiculously tight, fitted top that clung to every curve and accentuated your chest more than you’d usually allow.

Ben noticed the second you walked back out onto the diner floor. His gaze locked onto you like a missile, and for the first time in weeks, he seemed genuinely thrown off. He didn’t even bother hiding it; his eyes dropped to your chest and stayed there, his jaw tightening slightly.

“Fuck me”, he said, his voice lower and slower than usual as you approached his booth with his bill. “Is that what you’ve been hiding under that little uniform all this time?”.

You rolled your eyes, but you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “Don’t start”, you warned, trying to sound unaffected, though his reaction was already flustering you.

Ben grinned, leaning back in the booth as his eyes roamed over you, lingering far too long on your chest. “No, seriously. I think I deserve a little heads-up before you walk in here looking like… that”.

“Like what?”, you asked, setting his bill down on the table.

“Like that”, he repeated, gesturing to your top with a wave of his hand. His eyes gleamed with mischief, but there was something darker in them too, something raw. “I mean, fuck, sweetheart. You trying to kill me or what?”.

You crossed your arms over your chest—mostly to shield yourself from his gaze—but that only made his grin grow wider.

“Can you hurry? Please?”, you said, forcing your voice to stay even. “I’ve got somewhere to be“.

“Oh yeah? Where’s that?”, he asked, sitting up straighter, suddenly interested.

“Bookstore”, you replied, already turning to leave. “Closes in twenty minutes, and I’ve got to grab something for class”.

Ben was quiet for a moment, and when you glanced back, his gaze was still firmly fixed on you, a thoughtful look crossing his face.

“You’re not walking there dressed like that, are you?”, he asked, his voice laced with something between amusement and possessiveness.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”.

Ben shrugged, sliding out of the booth and standing up, towering over you with that cocky grin still plastered on his face. “I mean, a girl like you, dressed like that? You’re gonna turn heads. Might need someone to keep the vultures at bay”.

“Let me guess”, you said dryly, crossing your arms once more. “You’re volunteering?”.

Ben tilted his head, his grin softening into something a little more genuine. “Damn right, I am”.

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at the clock above the counter. The bookstore was closing in less than twenty minutes, and you knew there was no way you’d make it on foot. You didn’t own a car, and even if you bolted out the door right now, you’d still be too late. Frustration bubbled up, and you let out a small sigh before turning back to Ben, who was now watching you with an annoyingly amused expression.

“Do you even have a car?”, you asked bluntly, crossing your arms as you fixed him with a questioning look.

Ben arched a brow, clearly enjoying your sudden shift in tone. “Sweetheart, do you really think someone like me walks everywhere?”, he replied, his grin widening. “Yeah, I’ve got a car. Why, you need a ride?”.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t deny the obvious. “The bookstore closes in twenty minutes, and there’s no way I’m making it in time on foot”.

Without hesitation, he was pulling a few crumpled bills from his pocket and tossing them onto the table. The motion was casual, like money meant nothing to him—which, you figured, it probably didn’t. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he extended a hand toward you.

“After you”, he said, his voice dropping into that rich, teasing tone that made your stomach twist in ways you refused to acknowledge. Then he leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your ear. “Big, bad Soldier Boy is saving the day”, he murmured, his voice low and deep, sending an uninvited shiver down your spine.

You stiffened, refusing to let him see how much his proximity affected you. Shooting him a sharp look, you brushed past his outstretched hand, deciding to ignore the theatrics entirely. “Let’s just get this over with”, you muttered, heading for the door.

Behind you, Ben chuckled, the sound rich and amused, and you could feel his gaze following you all the way out to the parking lot. As you reached the sidewalk, you heard the unmistakable growl of an engine starting up. Turning, you saw him pulling up in a sleek, black muscle car that looked like it had been pulled straight from a vintage car show. He rolled down the passenger window, leaning an arm casually against the frame as he looked up at you.

“Get in, sweetheart”, he said, his grin widening. “Clock’s ticking, remember?”.

You hesitated for half a second, contemplating the wisdom of climbing into a car with Ben of all people. But the clock was ticking, and your options were limited. With a resigned sigh, you opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, the scent of leather and faint aftershave filling your senses.

The door shut with a satisfying thunk, and Ben shifted into gear, the car roaring to life beneath you. He glanced over, clearly pleased with himself. “Now, hang on. This baby’s got a little kick”.

“Just drive”, you said, ignoring his grin as you buckled your seatbelt.

Ben smirked, gunning the engine as the car peeled out onto the street, the tires screeching slightly against the pavement. “Yes, ma’am”, he said, throwing you a quick wink.

You sat back, gripping the edge of your seat as the world blurred past the window. Ben handled the car with practiced ease, weaving through traffic like he owned the road. You hated to admit it, but there was something thrilling about the way he drove—something confident and controlled, yet just on the edge of reckless.

“So, what’s the rush?”, he asked after a moment, his tone teasing. “Don’t tell me you’re actually this dedicated to your homework”.

“It’s not homework”, you replied, shooting him a glance. “I told you. It’s a book I need for class. And if you’d quit talking and drive faster, I might actually get it before they close”.

Ben’s grin widened, and he pressed down harder on the gas. “Your wish is my command”, he said smoothly.

You turned back to the window, hoping the rush of the ride would drown out the way his voice lingered in your mind. The bookstore came into view just as the minutes ticked down, and Ben pulled up to the curb with a flair that was entirely unnecessary but undeniably his style.

“Made it”, he said, throwing the car into park and turning to you with a satisfied grin. “Told you I’d save the day”.

You rolled your eyes, unbuckling your seatbelt. “Don’t expect a medal”, you shot back, opening the door and stepping out.

Ben leaned across the console, calling after you. “Come on, Y/N. Admit it—you’re impressed”.

You turned, giving him a look that was half-annoyed, half-amused. “Stay here. I’ll be right back”.

When you came back to the car, clutching the book you’d rushed to get, Ben was still lounging in the driver’s seat, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel. The headlights illuminated the quiet street, casting long shadows, and the faint hum of the engine added a low, steady background noise. As you climbed back into the passenger seat, he raised an eyebrow at you, an expression somewhere between amused and incredulous.

“So”, he said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness, “you just assumed I’d wait around to drive you back, huh? Didn’t even bother asking. Gotta admit, sweetheart, you’ve got some nerve”.

You shot him a sidelong glance, unfazed by his teasing. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”, you replied, setting the book down on your lap and clicking your seatbelt into place. “Figured that meant you didn’t have anywhere better to be”.

Ben smirked, leaning back and studying you with those sharp green eyes that always seemed to see a little too much. “Fair enough”, he said, his tone slow and easy. “But what makes you think the Soldier Boy’s personal chauffeur service is free?”.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh, come on. What do you want? Gas money? A thank-you? Fine. Thanks for the ride. Happy?”.

Ben laughed, the sound low and genuine, and he shook his head as he shifted the car into drive. “Nah”, he said, glancing over at you with that cocky grin. “I think I’ll just take the pleasure of your company as payment. Call it even”.

You tried not to let the comment rattle you, but the way his voice dipped on the word pleasure sent a flicker of heat through your chest. Clearing your throat, you turned your gaze out the window, watching as the city lights flickered past.

The car ride to your apartment, not back to the diner, was quieter than you’d expected, but not uncomfortable. Every now and then, Ben would make a comment—a sly remark about your book or a teasing question about your weekend plans—and you’d give him a sharp but good-natured reply. It was a strange kind of rhythm you’d fallen into, like sparring partners who secretly enjoyed the match.

When he finally pulled up in front of your building, he put the car in park but didn’t move to turn off the engine. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, watching you expectantly. “Well?”, he said, tilting his head. “Aren’t you gonna invite me up for a drink? Or at least offer me a cookie or something for my trouble?”.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “You expect me to reward you for doing the bare minimum?”.

He chuckled, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “Not a reward, sweetheart. Just… hospitality. I did just save your ass, remember?”.

You sighed, debating for a moment. Part of you wanted to tell him off, to end the the afternoon here and shut the door on his relentless teasing. But another part of you—the part you were trying very hard to ignore—didn’t entirely hate the idea of spending a little more time with him.

“Fine”, you said finally, opening the door and stepping out. “But don’t get comfortable. One drink. That’s it”.

Ben grinned, killing the engine and climbing out of the car. “One drink”, he echoed, his voice laced with amusement. “Scout’s honor”.

As you led the way up to your apartment, you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly you were getting yourself into.

You unlocked your apartment door and pushed it open, flicking on the lights and stepping inside. Ben followed close behind, his boots heavy on the hardwood floor. You glanced back at him, already regretting your decision.

“Make yourself at home”, you muttered sarcastically, setting your book down on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, don’t worry”, Ben said with a grin, already looking around the room shamelessly. “I planned on it”.

He didn’t wait for an invitation to explore, his sharp green eyes scanning every corner of your apartment. His casual arrogance was impossible to ignore, the way he carried himself like nothing and no one could challenge him. You busied yourself grabbing a couple of glasses and a bottle of wine, figuring it was the easiest option for “one drink”. But when you turned back, you caught him standing by the laundry basket in the corner, something lacy dangling from his fingers.

It was a bra. Your bra.

“Seriously?”, you snapped, setting the glasses down with a clink. “Put that down”.

Ben didn’t listen, of course. He held the bra up, inspecting it with a cocked eyebrow and a smirk that made your blood boil. “This yours?”, he asked, his tone mock-innocent. “Didn’t peg you for the lacy type, sweetheart. Looks… sturdy. But then again—”, his gaze dropped deliberately to your chest, lingering in a way that was anything but subtle. “—guess it’d have to be, huh?”.

Your cheeks burned, and you crossed the room in a few quick strides, snatching the bra out of his hands. “You’re unbelievable”, you hissed, shoving it into the laundry basket where it belonged. “What is wrong with you?”.

Ben laughed, completely unbothered by your anger. “What? I’m just making an observation. Don’t get so bent out of shape, sweetheart”.

You glared at him, fists clenched at your sides, but his smug grin only deepened. He leaned against the edge of your couch, arms crossed over his chest, watching you like he was thoroughly enjoying himself. “Relax”, he drawled, his voice dipping into that lazy, cocky tone that drove you insane. “You’re the one who invited me up here. You should’ve known what you were getting into”.

You opened your mouth to retort but couldn’t find the words. He was infuriating. Absolutely, undeniably infuriating. And yet, the way he looked at you—bold and unapologetic, like he couldn’t get enough of you—made your heart race in a way you didn’t want to admit.

“I’ll pour the wine”, you said finally, spinning on your heel and heading back to the kitchen before you could say something you’d regret.

As you reached for the bottle of wine, you heard Ben's voice cut through the air, dripping with disdain.

“Wine?”, he asked, his tone laced with mockery. “Do I look like a fucking pussy to you?”.

You froze, bottle in hand, and turned to see him, still leaning against the edge of your couch, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. He looked genuinely offended, like you’d just suggested he trade his supe suit for a tutu. The cocky smirk was still there, but now it was edged with that signature Soldier Boy arrogance.

“What’s wrong with wine?”, you shot back, narrowing your eyes. “It’s easy, it’s quick, and I’m pretty sure it won’t kill you”.

Ben scoffed, pushing off the couch and striding toward you. “Sweetheart, I don’t do wine”, he said, his voice low and rough as he leaned on the counter, his eyes locking with yours. “I’m a whiskey man. Always have been, always will be”.

“Of course, you are”, you muttered under your breath, setting the wine bottle down with a bit more force than necessary. You crossed your arms and stared up at him, trying to ignore how close he’d gotten. “Well, sorry to disappoint, but I don’t keep whiskey stocked for uninvited guests”.

Ben tilted his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Uninvited? Funny, didn’t feel like that when you practically begged me to give you a ride home”.

Your jaw dropped. “Begged?”, you repeated, your voice rising. “I asked. There’s a difference”.

“Sure, sweetheart”, he said, clearly not buying it. “Whatever helps you sleep at night”.

You glared at him, and he just chuckled, reaching out to pluck the wine glasses off the counter. “Guess we’re slumming it tonight”, he said, holding them up with a theatrical sigh. “Pour it, then. Let’s see what all the fuss is about”.

You stared at him for a moment, torn between kicking him out of your apartment and pouring the wine just to shut him up. Finally, you grabbed the bottle and poured, slapping the glass into his hand with a little more force than was probably necessary.

“There”, you said, your tone sharp. “Enjoy”.

Ben raised the glass, swirling the wine with an exaggerated flourish. “Cheers, sweetheart”, he said, his grin widening. “To my first and last glass of this shit”.

He took a sip, his expression immediately souring. “Yep”, he said, setting the glass down on the counter with a clink. “Tastes like regret. You actually drink this crap, or is this just for decoration?”.

You couldn’t help it—a laugh escaped, despite yourself. “It’s not that bad”, you said, smirking at the way he was glaring at the glass like it had personally insulted him.

“Not that bad?”, Ben repeated, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, life’s too short to drink wine. Let me guess—you don’t even have a bottle of Jack around here, do you?”.

“Nope”, you said, crossing your arms again. “Like I said, I don’t keep whiskey for uninvited guests”.

Ben grinned, leaning in closer. “Guess I’ll have to bring my own next time”.

The implication hung in the air, bold and deliberate, and you felt your cheeks flush. “Who says there’s gonna be a next time?”, you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

Ben just smirked, his green eyes glittering with mischief. “Oh, there’ll be a next time”, he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Trust me”.

And damn it, the worst part was that some small, traitorous part of you wanted to believe him.

Ben leaned in closer, his towering frame dominating the small space of your kitchen. His voice dropped to a low whisper, smooth and teasing, as his gaze shamelessly dropped to your chest, lingering in a way that was anything but subtle.

"So tell me", he murmured, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk as his eyes flicked back up to meet yours. "How do you handle these?".

He licked his lips slowly, like he was savoring the thought, and you felt your breath hitch despite yourself. The heat of his gaze was tangible, burning through the fabric of your too-tight top, and you could feel the tension crackling in the air like static electricity.

Your cheeks flared hot with indignation, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. "Excuse me?", you said sharply, crossing your arms over your chest once more, as if that might block his view.

Ben chuckled, unbothered by your tone—or by anything, it seemed. He leaned one elbow on the counter, his posture casual, but his grin was wolfish. "Come on, sweetheart", he drawled. "You walk around with those—", he gestured vaguely toward your cleavage, "—and you’re telling me you don’t notice the way every guy looks at you? Hell, I can’t even blame them. They’re… impressive".

Your jaw tightened, and you glared at him, trying to channel all the irritation you felt into your voice. "You’re unbelievable", you snapped. "Do you seriously talk to every woman like this, or am I just lucky?".

Ben shrugged, the motion impossibly smug. "Only the ones who can handle it", he said, his grin widening. "And you, sweetheart, you’ve got fire. Makes me wanna push a little, see how far you’ll go".

You were seething now, but his words sparked something else beneath the surface—something you didn’t want to acknowledge. You’d dealt with his cocky comments before, but the way he looked at you now, like he was imagining exactly what he’d do if you let him, sent a shiver down your spine.

"Push all you want", you shot back, stepping closer and jabbing a finger into his chest. "You’ll find out real quick I’m not like those other women who swoon every time you flash that stupid grin".

Ben’s smirk softened into something darker, more deliberate, and his voice dropped even lower. "Oh, sweetheart", he said, his eyes locked onto yours. "I already know you’re not like the others. That’s why you’re so damn fun".

The air between you felt impossibly thick, the tension humming like a live wire. He was standing so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off him, his scent filling your senses.

"Tell you what", he said, his voice smooth as honey but laced with that familiar edge of cockiness. "You pour me another glass of that fucking awful wine, and I’ll stop staring at your tits". He paused, his smirk turning downright wicked. "For at least five minutes".

You wanted to yell at him, to throw him out of your apartment and slam the door in his face. But instead, you grabbed the wine bottle and poured, your hand steady despite the fire simmering in your chest.

"Five minutes", you said, sliding the glass across the counter toward him. "That’s all you’re getting".

Ben chuckled, lifting the glass in a mock toast. "Deal", he said, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. "But don’t blame me if I break it".

The five minutes turned into ten, then twenty, and before you knew it, you were pouring from a second bottle of wine. The two of you hadn’t even left the kitchen. Ben leaned against the counter like he belonged there, his grin widening with every teasing jab and witty comment you threw his way. To your surprise—and mild annoyance—you were actually enjoying yourself. The tension that had been crackling between you all evening hadn’t disappeared; if anything, it had grown thicker, heavier, like a storm waiting to break.

“You know”, Ben said, swirling the wine in his glass like it was whiskey, his voice low and drawling, “you’re a lot more fun than you let on, sweetheart. All that fire, all those little comebacks… you’ve got a hell of a bite”.

You smirked, taking another sip of your wine. The alcohol had loosened your tongue, making you bolder. “And here I thought a big bad supe like you couldn’t handle a girl with a backbone”.

Ben barked out a laugh, setting his glass down on the counter. “Handle? Sweetheart, I live for it. Most people don’t have the guts to talk back to me. You, though…”. His eyes raked over you, lingering for just a second too long. “You’re something else”.

You rolled your eyes, pretending his words didn’t send a jolt of heat through you. “Is that your idea of a compliment?”, you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because I’m not impressed”.

Ben’s grin turned downright wicked, and he stepped closer, invading your space with an ease that made your heart race. “Oh, I think you’re a little impressed”, he said, his voice dipping lower. “I mean, look at you—two bottles in, still here with me. If you really hated me that much, you’d have kicked me out by now”.

Your jaw tightened, but before you could fire back, he reached out, his hand brushing lightly against the hem of your top. The move was casual, almost absentminded, but his fingers lingered, teasing the fabric like he was testing your reaction.

“Speaking of backbone”, he said, his tone shifting to something darker, more deliberate. “This little thing can’t be doing much to support these”. His eyes flicked down to your chest, and then back up, locking onto yours with a gaze that was equal parts cocky and predatory.

Your breath caught, and your hand shot out, grabbing his wrist before he could go any further. “Ben”, you warned, your voice low but unsteady.

He didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned in closer, his lips curling into a slow smirk. “What?”, he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Am I wrong?”.

Before you could think, before you could stop yourself, the wine-fueled heat bubbling inside you erupted. “You’re impossible”, you muttered, and the next thing you knew, you were shoving him—not hard, but enough to make a point.

Ben laughed, catching himself against the counter, but instead of backing off, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward him with a surprising amount of force. His other hand went straight to the hem of your top, and in one swift, fluid motion, he tugged it over your head, leaving you standing there in your bra.

“Ben!”, you gasped, your cheeks flaming.

"You’ve been teasing me all day, sweetheart. Figured it was time I got a better look”, he grinned, completely unrepentant, his eyes dropping shamelessly to your chest.

You crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him, but he just leaned back, his gaze burning into you. “Damn”, he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Even better than I thought”.

The tension between you was unbearable now, thick and electric, and you weren’t sure whether you wanted to slap him or—well, do something else entirely. Ben seemed to sense it too, his grin softening just enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“So”, he said, his voice dropping into a whisper as he stepped closer again, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. “You gonna kick me out now? Or are we finally gonna stop pretending we don’t want the same thing?”.

The air between you felt hotter, heavier, and his gaze dipped again to your chest, lingering there shamelessly.

Your breath hitched as his hand moved to hover just near the edge of your bra strap. His fingers didn’t touch it yet, but the heat of them against your skin was enough to make your pulse quicken. You tried to steel yourself, to glare at him like you always did, but his words, his tone—it was all so… intense.

“Ben”, you said, your voice shaky but firm. “Back off. Now”.

But Ben didn’t move away. If anything, he stepped even closer, his broad frame towering over you, his green eyes dark with something primal. “Back off?”, he echoed, his lips twitching into a wicked grin. “You sure about that, sweetheart? Because you’ve been making this real hard for me all night—literally”.

Your eyes flicked down instinctively—his words leaving little to the imagination—and he laughed, low and deep. “Yeah, that’s what I thought”, he said, his confidence only growing. His hand lifted, his knuckles brushing lightly, teasingly, against the curve of your cleavage.

“Fucking shit”, he muttered, almost to himself. “These… I mean, I knew they’d be good, but seeing them up close? Sweetheart, they’re fucking perfect”.

Your face burned, and your hand shot up to shove him away, but he caught your wrist easily, his grip firm but not painful. “Oh, no”, he said, his voice dropping an octave. “You don’t get to hide now. Not after teasing me like this. You think I didn’t notice the way that little uniform clung to you every time I walked into the diner? Or how you cross your arms just high enough to—”. His thumb brushed lightly against the swell of your breast, and you inhaled sharply. “Yeah. Exactly”.

“Ben”, you said again, this time quieter, though you weren’t sure if it was a warning or something else entirely.

His smirk softened slightly, but his eyes never left yours. “Relax, sweetheart”, he said, his voice low and soothing, though the hunger in his gaze hadn’t dimmed in the slightest. “These—”, his hand finally settled just under the edge of your bra, the pads of his fingers brushing against the soft fabric, “—are driving me fucking insane. You know, I like them big".

The admission was so brazen, so shameless, it left you speechless. He chuckled at your stunned expression, his other hand sliding along your waist, his fingers curling just slightly against your skin. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he murmured.

You swallowed hard, torn between fury and something you didn’t want to name. His thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle just above the fabric of your bra, his touch featherlight but maddeningly deliberate. He was testing you, pushing you, and the worst part was that you weren’t stopping him.

“Just say the word”m he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Tell me to stop, and I will. But if you don’t…”. He let the sentence hang, his fingers inching just a little higher, grazing the edge of the fabric.

Your heart was pounding, and every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire. He was insufferable, arrogant, and completely out of line. But the way he looked at you, the way he touched you—it was consuming, overwhelming, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to stop him.

And Ben, always the bold one, seemed to know exactly how much power he had in this moment. "So", he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, "what's it gonna be, sweetheart?".

Ben's grin widened when you didn’t pull away or tell him to stop. The heat in his gaze turned molten as if your silence was all the confirmation he needed. Without hesitation, his large, rough hand caught yours, holding it firmly but not unkindly. His other hand moved to his belt, undoing the thick, gold clasp of his supe suit with practiced ease, the sound of metal clinking filling the tension-filled air.

Before you could even process what was happening, he pushed your hand inside the waistband of his pants, guiding your palm to lay flat against the heated, throbbing length of him. Your breath hitched sharply, and your fingers instinctively flexed, brushing against him. He hissed through his teeth at the contact, his grip tightening on your hand as if to keep you there.

“Fuck”, he growled low in his throat, his voice rough with need. “You feel that, sweetheart? That’s what you do to me”. His hips shifted just slightly, pressing himself harder against your palm. The sheer size and heat of him were overwhelming, and despite yourself, your hand twitched again, drawing another guttural sound from him.

His other hand didn’t stay idle. It slid up your back, deftly finding the clasp of your bra. The snap of it coming undone was almost deafening in the charged silence of the room. He pulled the straps from your shoulders with deliberate slowness, his calloused fingers brushing against your bare skin and sending shivers down your spine.

“Shit”, he murmured, his voice thick with admiration as he let the bra fall to the floor. His hand moved to cup your now-exposed breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak. “Even better than I imagined”, he muttered, his green eyes dark and heavy-lidded as they drank in the sight of you. “Fucking perfect”.

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat when his thumb circled your nipple, sending a jolt of sensation straight through you. His grin grew, cocky and triumphant, as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “That little gasp?”, he murmured. “Music to my fucking ears”.

Still holding your hand firmly against him, he began to move it, guiding your touch along the length of him, slow and deliberate. “You feel how hard I am for you?”, he asked, his voice husky, tinged with raw desire. “That’s all you, sweetheart”.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His words, his touch, the sheer presence of him—it was all too much, and yet not enough. Every nerve in your body was on fire, every ounce of your self-control teetering on the edge.

“Tell me to stop”, he said again, his voice low but firm, his hand still guiding yours as his thumb teased your nipple. “Say the word, sweetheart, and I’ll back off. But if you don’t…". His lips brushed against your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re mine tonight”.

Your hesitation didn’t go unnoticed, but it wasn’t long before your fingers started to move—tentative, unsure at first, but enough to draw a sharp, satisfied hiss from Ben. His hand flexed around yours briefly before letting go, allowing you to stroke him at your own pace.

His fingers pinched your nipple, rolling the sensitive peak between his thumb and forefinger with a roughness that made your breath hitch. “That’s it”, he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, vibrating with approval. “Good girl. Just like that”.

Before you could fully process his words—or the way they made your stomach twist with something both infuriating and exhilarating—his hands were on your hips, lifting you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter. The cool surface pressed against the backs of your thighs, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating off him as he stepped between your legs.

Ben didn’t waste any time. His hands moved to your chest, cupping both of your breasts with an almost reverent hunger. His thumbs dragged across your nipples, teasing the already sensitive peaks as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your skin.

“Damn it", he muttered, his eyes fixed on your chest as though it was the most captivating thing he’d ever seen. “These… Fuck sweetheart. You’ve been hiding these from me all this time?”. He let out a low, almost feral groan, his hands squeezing your breasts gently before his mouth descended on one of your nipples.

The moment his lips wrapped around the sensitive peak, sucking firmly, you felt a sharp jolt of pleasure that made you gasp. His tongue flicked against you, slow and deliberate, sending waves of sensation coursing through your body. He groaned deeply, the vibration of it against your skin making you squirm, and his hands tightened on your breasts, kneading them as though he couldn’t get enough.

“Perfect”, he muttered against your skin, his voice muffled but laced with raw need. “Fucking perfect”. He switched to your other nipple, giving it the same attention, his teeth grazing lightly before his tongue soothed the sting. His groans deepened as he sucked harder, his hands squeezing and molding your breasts as though they were made for him.

“This”, he said between licks and sucks, his voice breathless and rough. “This right here? This is what drives me crazy. Big, soft, perfect tits. Fuck. And yours…” His eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and filled with something primal. “Yours are fucking unreal”.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. His mouth on you, his hands kneading and teasing—it was overwhelming in the best way. Every nerve in your body was on fire, and the way he worshipped your chest with his hands and mouth sent your mind spinning.

Ben pulled back for just a moment, his lips glistening as he smirked up at you. “I could stay right here all night”, he murmured, his hands still massaging your breasts, his thumbs brushing your nipples. “Sucking these perfect tits of yours, hearing you moan like that. You like it, don’t you, sweetheart? You like how much I’m into these”.

You didn’t answer—couldn’t answer. Instead, you reached for him, pulling him closer, and the cocky grin on his face turned triumphant as he lowered his head again, his mouth latching onto you with renewed intensity.

Ben's mouth was relentless, his lips and tongue working over your sensitive nipple as though he were starved for the taste of you. The low, guttural groans he let out against your skin sent vibrations rippling through your body, making you arch into him. His hands, however, weren’t content to stay idle.

While his mouth stayed latched to your chest, one hand moved with deliberate purpose, sliding down to the waistband of your jeans. You gasped as his fingers deftly unbuttoned them, the sharp pop of the button lost in the haze of heat and sensation. His hand tugged at the fabric, pulling your jeans down over your hips in one smooth, impatient motion, taking your panties along with them.

You squirmed on the counter, trying to adjust to the sudden exposure, but Ben wasn’t giving you a moment to collect yourself. His mouth was still firmly on your nipple, his teeth grazing it lightly before his tongue soothed the sting. The combination of pleasure and roughness made your breath hitch audibly, and he pulled back just enough to look up at you, his lips curling into a wicked grin.

“Sensitive, huh?”, he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, thick with desire. “I like that”.

Before you could respond, his free hand moved between your legs, cupping you possessively. The roughness of his palm against your bare pussy made you gasp, and his grin widened at your reaction. He didn’t move his hand yet, just held it there, his fingers brushing lightly against you as his thumb circled idly along your inner thigh.

“You’re already so fucking wet”, he murmured, his tone somewhere between teasing and awe. His lips returned to your other nipple, sucking firmly as his fingers began to explore, slow and deliberate, teasing just enough to drive you mad. “All this from a little attention to these perfect tits, huh? Sweetheart, you’re too fucking good to be true”.

His words, his tone, his touch—it was all too much. His fingers slid against you, finding your most sensitive spot with infuriating precision, and he chuckled darkly as your body jerked in response.

“Fuck”, he muttered against your skin, his lips still working over your nipple. “You feel so good, sweetheart. So soft, so warm. Bet you’d feel even better clenching around me”.

His grin was pure arrogance, but the way his fingers teased you left no doubt—he was going to make good on every filthy promise in his eyes.

Ben didn’t give you time to answer. His mouth found your nipple again, sucking hard enough to draw a moan from your lips while his fingers worked you with a skill that had your head spinning. He wasn’t just teasing anymore; he was taking his time exploring every reaction he could pull from you, his rough, calloused touch a sharp contrast to the way his tongue rolled over the sensitive peak of your breast.

“God, you’re so responsive”, he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. “It’s like your body was made for me”.

His hand between your legs pressed more firmly, his fingers sliding through your wetness with a groan that sounded almost guttural. “Look at you”, he muttered, pulling back just long enough to meet your gaze, his smirk replaced with something more primal. “So wet for me. Fuck, sweetheart, you’ve been driving me crazy for weeks, and now… now I’ve got you exactly where I want you”.

He slid a finger inside you, slow but deliberate, and you couldn’t help the sharp gasp that escaped your lips. His mouth returned to your chest, sucking and nipping at your nipple as his finger moved, curling slightly to find the perfect spot. He chuckled against your skin as your hips bucked against his hand, your body reacting on instinct.

“That’s it”, he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Let me feel you. Show me how much you like it”.

He added a second finger, thrusting into you slowly at first, then with more confidence as he felt your body respond. His thumb found your most sensitive spot, circling it with just enough pressure to make your legs tremble.

“All this”, he said, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke, “just from my hands. Can you imagine what it’s gonna feel like when I finally give you all of me?”.

You didn’t answer—couldn’t answer. Your breath came in short gasps, your mind clouded by the overwhelming sensations he was pulling from you.

“You’re mine tonight, sweetheart”, he whispered, his voice a low growl. “And I’m gonna make damn sure you don’t forget it”.

With a single, decisive movement, Ben’s large hand pressed against your stomach, guiding you back onto the kitchen island. The cool surface sent a shiver up your spine as it met your overheated skin, and your legs dangled helplessly off the edge, his sheer strength keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

He towered over you, his cocky grin sharper now, a predatory gleam in his green eyes as he admired the view in front of him. “Look at you”, he muttered, his voice low and rough, filled with unfiltered hunger. “Spread out for me like you were made for this”.

Before you could gather your wits to respond, Ben moved with swift precision, his hands going to his pants. He shoved them down without hesitation, the material of his supe suit pooling at his thighs. When he finally freed himself, your breath caught in your throat.

He was big—thicker and longer than you’d expected, his cock hard and already flushed with arousal. It stood proud, twitching slightly as if straining for you, and the sight alone was enough to make your heart race. He caught your expression, his grin widening into something shamelessly smug.

He stepped closer, the heat of his body overwhelming as he loomed over you, his free hand sliding down to your thigh. His grip was firm, rough, as he spread your legs wider, making room for himself between them. He didn’t rush—he wanted you to see everything, to feel every second of anticipation building like a firestorm inside you.

Ben dragged the tip of his cock against you, groaning deeply at the contact. “Fuck”, he muttered, his eyes darkening as he watched the way your body reacted to him. “So wet, so ready. You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”.

You opened your mouth to retort, but any words you might have had were stolen the moment he pushed forward, pressing just the tip of himself inside you. The stretch was immediate, intense, his size forcing you to take a deep breath as your body adjusted. He growled low in his throat, his fingers gripping your thighs tightly as he held himself there for a moment.

“Feel that?”, he rasped, his voice thick with desire. “That’s just the start, sweetheart. You’re gonna feel every inch of me, and you’re gonna take it like the good girl I know you are”.

Without waiting for a response, Ben pushed further, sinking into you inch by inch with a roughness that had your back arching off the counter. His hands held you firmly in place, his strength undeniable as he buried himself inside you, groaning deeply when he finally bottomed out.

“Fuck”, he growled, his head dropping for a moment as he fought to regain control. “So tight, so perfect. You’re squeezing me like you don’t want me to leave".

Ben’s groan deepened as he thrust fully into you, his hips flush against yours. His large hand splayed across your stomach, his palm pressing firmly against the soft skin just above your belly button. His eyes darkened as he stilled for a moment, letting the intensity of the moment settle between you.

“Fuck”, he muttered, almost to himself, his voice low and thick with awe. His hand flexed slightly, pressing into your stomach, and his cock twitched inside you, buried to the hilt.

His hips moved again, drawing back just enough to thrust forward, slow but deliberate. His eyes never left yours, and his hand stayed firmly in place, feeling every inch of himself as he filled you. The way his cock moved inside you, the way his hand pressed against your stomach to feel his own movements, was overwhelming—intimate in a way that sent heat coursing through your entire body.

“Do you feel that?”, he rasped, his voice rough and breathless. His hand pressed down again, emphasizing the sensation. “That’s all me, sweetheart. Deep inside you, stretching you, filling you. You’re taking all of me”.

His hand stayed on your stomach, his palm rough and unyielding as he pressed harder, clearly enthralled by the sensation of his cock moving inside you. His thrusts were slow but deliberate, each one forcing you to take him fully, and the slight wince that escaped your lips only seemed to spur him on.

“Too much for you?”, he asked, though the smirk on his face said he already knew the answer. “Yeah, you’re feeling all of me now, aren’t you? My dick’s got you squirming, huh?”.

You tried to glare at him, but your breath hitched again as he thrust even deeper, the strength behind each movement a stark reminder of just how powerful he was. Your body arched beneath him, your legs trembling as he set a relentless pace, his cock pressing against every sensitive spot inside you.

Ben’s attention shifted to your chest, his free hand sliding up to cup one of your bouncing breasts. “Look at these”, he muttered, his thumb brushing over your nipple as it peaked from the movement. “Fucking perfect. Watching them bounce while I fuck you—fuck, sweetheart, it’s like you’re made for me”.

His hips snapped harder, making the counter beneath you creak slightly, and you let out a sharp gasp, your hands gripping the edges of the kitchen island for stability. The combination of his hand pressing against your stomach and the sight of his cock disappearing into you with every thrust was overwhelming, a heady mixture of pleasure and the faintest edge of pain from the sheer force of him.

Ben's focus honed in on your chest again, his green eyes dark and filled with raw hunger.

He leaned down, his mouth finding your nipple again, sucking hard enough to make you cry out. His teeth grazed the sensitive peak before his tongue flicked over it. The dual sensations—the roughness of his mouth and the deep, relentless thrusts of his hips—sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, your back arching off the cool surface of the counter.

"You’re close, aren’t you?", he murmured against your skin, his lips moving to your other breast. His thumb slid down, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, adding another layer of sensation that made your thighs tremble. "I can feel it, the way you’re clenching around me. You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you? Gonna let me feel it".

You whimpered, your nails digging into the edge of the counter as the tension inside you coiled tighter and tighter. Ben growled against your skin, his lips wrapping around your nipple again as his fingers worked you, his thrusts growing harder, deeper, hitting just the right spot with a precision that left you breathless.

"Come on", he muttered, his voice rough and commanding. "Let me feel it, sweetheart. Let me feel you fall apart while I’m buried inside you".

His words, his touch, the relentless way he worshipped your chest—it all pushed you closer and closer to the edge. His teeth grazed your nipple again, and the sharp, pleasurable sting was the final push you needed. Your body tensed, your head falling back as the orgasm tore through you, every nerve in your body lighting up with overwhelming sensation.

Ben groaned deeply, feeling the way your body clenched and pulsed around him. His hand pressed harder against your stomach, emphasizing the intensity of it, and his hips slowed slightly, grinding against you to draw it out as long as possible.

"Fuck", he muttered, his voice filled with awe as he pulled back just enough to watch your face. His hand still kneaded your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple as you trembled beneath him. "That’s it, sweetheart. So fucking beautiful when you come".

Ben’s breathing was ragged, his thrusts slowing but no less deliberate as he pushed you to the brink of overstimulation, but then he suddenly pulled back, his cock slipping out of you. You barely had a moment to react before his strong hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter.

"Stay right there", he growled, his voice low and commanding, as he adjusted your position. Before you could protest—or catch your breath—he hooked an arm under your waist, lifting you effortlessly, leaving your legs dangling off the counter while your back pressed against the cool surface.

With one hand firmly supporting you, his other hand dropped to himself, stroking his thick, throbbing cock with a rough, practiced motion. The sight of him, his broad chest heaving, his jaw tight with restraint, and his green eyes blazing as he looked down at you, left you utterly breathless.

“Fuck”, he groaned, his grip tightening as his strokes became faster. “You’re a fucking dream, sweetheart".

You tried to steady your breathing, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your body still trembled from your orgasm. But Ben wasn’t done. His hand shifted its grip on your waist, pulling you just a little higher so that your chest was perfectly positioned in front of him. His gaze was fixed there, dark and hungry, as he stroked himself harder, his hips bucking slightly into his own hand.

With a low, guttural groan, he finally tipped over the edge. His hand tightened around himself as he came, thick, hot ropes spilling out, painting your chest in a way that made his breath hitch. His groan turned into a growl, his grip on your waist tightening as he held you steady, his other hand pumping himself through every last pulse.

"Fuck, sweetheart"m he rasped, his eyes fixed on the mess he’d made of you, your tits glistening as you lay sprawled out on the counter. “That’s a fucking sight”.

You blinked up at him, still catching your breath, your body limp against his hold. His chest was heaving as he slowly released his grip on himself, his hand sliding back to your waist to hold you securely. His thumb brushed against your skin, a small, almost tender gesture that contrasted with the intensity of what had just happened.

Ben pulled back, his smirk widening as he watched you struggle to regain your composure. Gently but firmly, he set you on your feet, his large hands gripping your waist to steady you. The moment your feet touched the ground, your knees buckled, unable to support you after the intensity of what had just happened.

He caught you instantly, one arm slipping around your waist, holding you up effortlessly. His cocky grin didn’t falter for a second as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Careful there, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Didn’t mean to wear you out that much”.

You couldn’t respond—your breath was still coming in short gasps, your body trembling in his grasp. Your legs felt like jelly, and your mind was a haze of pleasure, heat, and disbelief. You barely registered his hand moving to your chin, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

Ben’s smirk grew wider as he took in your disheveled state—your chest still glistening from him, your legs trembling, your face flushed with heat. He kept his arm firmly around your waist, holding you steady, but his free hand drifted down to brush lightly against the mess he’d made on your chest.

“You might wanna clean this up”, he murmured, his tone dripping with teasing arrogance, his thumb smearing a line across your skin. His eyes followed the motion, dark and hungry, like he was admiring his own handiwork. “Can’t have you walking around like this, sweetheart".

Your breath hitched, and your cheeks flared with fresh embarrassment. “You’re unbelievable”, you managed to mutter, your voice still shaky but laced with irritation. You swatted his hand away, but the smug look on his face didn’t waver for a second.

“What?”, he asked innocently, his grin turning downright wicked. “Just stating the obvious. Though…”. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Part of me likes the idea of you keeping it. Little reminder of who you belong to now”.

Your stomach flipped at his words, and you clenched your jaw, refusing to let him see how much he was getting under your skin. “You’re a real piece of work”, you shot back, your voice gaining a little more strength.

Ben chuckled low, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as he watched you with that insufferable smirk plastered across his face. His hand moved lower, sliding down your back with deliberate slowness until it reached the curve of your ass. Without warning, he gave it a firm pinch, making you yelp and swat at his hand.

"Hey!", you snapped, spinning around to glare at him, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

“Thought you might need a little reminder to be more grateful”, he said, feigning innocence, his hand lingering dangerously close to where it had just been.

You rolled your eyes. “Grateful? For what, exactly?”.

He leaned in again, that cocky grin widening as his lips brushed against your ear. “For me”, he murmured, his voice dripping with arrogance. “For the ride, the fun, and that little gift on your chest. Figured I’d at least get a ‘thank you’, but no. Instead, I get sass”.

You huffed, trying to pull yourself together despite the way your body still trembled from him. “You don’t deserve a thank you for that”, you shot back, though your voice wasn’t nearly as steady as you’d hoped.

Ben’s hand slid back up to your waist, pulling you closer so your bodies were pressed together. The heat of him was overwhelming, and the mischievous glint in his eyes made your stomach flip. “Oh, I think I do, sweetheart”, he said, his grin turning wicked. “I think I deserve a lot more than a thank you, after the way I just made you scream”.

Your cheeks burned hotter, and you shoved lightly at his chest, trying to put some space between you. “You’re insufferable”, you muttered, but he didn’t budge.

Ben chuckled again, his hands tightening on your hips as he leaned down to look you square in the eye. “And you fucking enjoying it”, he said simply, his confidence unshakable. His thumb brushed over your hip, sending a shiver through you despite your best efforts to stay composed. “Now, come on, sweetheart. Be a good girl and say it”.

You glared at him, lips pressed into a thin line, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Still nothing?”, he teased, tilting his head. His grin widened, and his hand slid lower again, giving your ass another playful squeeze. “Guess I’ll just have to try harder to earn it then”.

Your breath caught, and his laughter followed you as you tried to pull yourself together. But the heat of his touch and the intensity of his gaze made it clear: Ben wasn’t done with you yet.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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#jensen ackles #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x you #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys soldier boy

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mauvecherie-writes · 3 months ago

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be mine this christmas: l.hamilton.

pairing: lewis hamilton x back oc!xenia richards

trope: grumpy billionaire x personal assistant au

ru’s 💌 : Please keep in mind that the Lewis in this story is not the IRL Lewis or the Lewis I typically write about. He’s a bit more of an asshole, he’s a bit more controlling. You’ll love him the same. This story is fast paced because it takes place in just about one night.

chapter: ONE

chapter warning: n/a

chapter w.c: 3.44K

𝐎𝐍𝐄:𝐗𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐀

Lewis Hamilton was an arsehole.

No, arsehole was not strong enough of a word to describe the depths of her hatred. She utterly loathed the man and there were not enough words in the a thesaurus that could describe the thoughts that plagued her mind. The thought of him on fire and she still wouldn’t throw water on him to save him. In fact, Xenia would throw the continuous stack of files that sat on her desk into the fire to stock the flames.

There was so much more that she could say but there was not enough space within her mind to keep thinking about that man.

Ugh, that man.

Xenia rolled her eyes at the phrase. Lewis Hamilton was the definition of being ‘the man’. To the modern man, he was the quintessential ‘alpha’ as they called them these days. A term that equally irked her.

An egotistical twat is what she felt was better suited for the type of man that Lewis Hamilton actually was. The type of man that made an obscene amount of money just by breathing and made it known that he had no qualms flaunting it. ’Who the fuck has a designer customised pen?!’

He was the type of man who walked with his head held high, shoulders square - demanding the attention through the sea of desks to the elevator that was constructed for his private use. The peasants were to use the smaller elevator further down the corridor.

Lewis Hamilton was considered a god to the board as his legacy in motorsport alone brought the investors, begging to give the company their money. Every man wanted to be him, willing to accept being his doormat if he allowed it. Every woman wanted to be in his bed if he spared them a glance. Equally pathetic.

Xenia wanted him to disappear. Then she would know peace.

She never understood how people could see the sun that seemed to be shining out of his arsehole. He had no redeeming qualities that she could think of and she’d been his personal assistant for three years.

He was a dominating whirlwind of force that blew everything that stood in his way and he would never look back to witness the havoc that he wreaked.

Xenia was not blind - she knew that he was an attractive man. It was in her face every day, confronted by it and that drove her hatred even deeper. He had her occupying the building that held her captive for sixty hours a week.

Yes, SIXTY!

In heels on top of it! Something about looking professional at all times that was written within the office’s code of conduct. Why she could not answer the emails at home (she was already doing that anyway) as she ran around the city of London doing errands off the clock was beyond her.

There were a lot of things that Hamilton did that would qualify enough as a form of harassment for a lawsuit.

But she was still here. Why?

Well, for one, her salary was amazing and helped her afford her obsession with fashion. It also helped that the VP of Sales, Rebecca Bailey was a sweetheart who loved asking her fashion tips. Xenia had cultivated a special relationship over the years with the older woman. They got along so well most likely due to the fact that she was one of the very few women in the building who did not want to cut off Xenia’s head because of her proximity to the boss.

Another reason why Xenia loved Rebecca was because of her encouragement for her to delve deeper into her fashion interest. Which was something Xenia was craving to do. She had gone so far as to create a website that she had intended to be her homage to fashion. Granted the only thing on the homepage was a white screen with the words ‘under construction’ flashing on the page. But it was a starting point.

“What are you so focused on?” The resident gossip, Lola Braun, stood at the edge of Xenia’s desk as she eyed the article that she had been working on. Xenia quickly shut her laptop screen down before Lola could read any further. She scrunched up her recently sculpted nose up when Xenia quietly pulled her screen close.

“It’s none of your business what I’m focused on actually.” Xenia replied . If she had to be honest with herself, she was not the biggest fan of Lola, matter of fact, she hated Lola at about the same level that she hated Lewis. Lola was the personal assistant of Rebecca which angered her even more due to how close they were forced to work with each other.

Lola loved herself in a way that was deplorable. Her high arched and pulled back eyebrows , hazel green eyes and a body every model aspired to have. With hair and flawless toffee-toned skin, magazines would say that you can get from rosemary water and witch hazel. However, because of this perceived perfection, Lola had made it her mission to force everyone around her to be miserable. She despised any food that contained more than 300 calories around her. God forbid, Xenia ate a lemon and poppyseed muffin with her caramel latte.

Everyone (mostly the women) wanted to look like Lola and they all seemed to hate the way Xenia looked. She was 5’9”, body full of curves, kinky coils that defied gravity with skin tone deep and rich as the juices of blackberries. Xenia loved the way that she looked. Lola could shove a chocolate chip cookie down her throat if she didn’t.

Xenia also hated the fact that she was a blubber mouth. You only ever told her anything when you wanted the entire office building to know. Xenia learned that little tidbit the hard way when she confided in her that she thought that the boss was a dick during her first month of employment. It was a very awkward staff general meeting when Lewis reprimanded ‘staff’ for inappropriate comments about higher administration.

Yes, Xenia hated Lola a great deal.

Lola cleared her throat, as if to remind her of her presence. Like Xenia could forget that she was standing there, not when her pungent fragrance was itching her nose.

“What do you want, Lola?”Xenia asked. She then dropped a stack of files onto her desk.

“Well, from the looks of it, it seems that you don’t have much work to do so here are the sales quarter files that Mr Hamilton asked for. Should keep you occupied until late. I can bet that you don’t even have an outfit for the Christmas party tonight.”

Xenia finally glared up at her. Meeting the woman’s snarky expression through her lashes.

“You’re right.” Xenia offered her a fake smile. “How about I start on these whilst you go and get those nails filled in. They look overdue.” Lola gasped as she pulled her emerald green manicured nails towards her chest before she moved to inspect them. Before Xenia could bask in the afterglow of Lola's stunned silence, a large and tasted hand dropped a note onto the stack of files in front of Xenia.

“Okay, this sparring round is over ladies.” Her eyes rolled before they landed on Miles. Miles Chamley-Watson was the Chief Marketing Officer of Hamilton Enterprises and also Lewis’s best friend. Only four years younger than the boss, Miles still knew him the longest and was there at the inception of the company - playing a massive role in its growth with his sharp eye on marketing the brand to a more generation.

Miles was also someone Xenia considered a friend and an ally. Their first meeting happened when he had walked in as she was getting a verbal lashing from the boss man. All she had done was pour oat milk into his coffee instead of almond. As the tears brimmed in her eyes, Miles was able to de-escalate the situation and since then, he had been a shoulder to lean on when the brunt force that was Lewis Hamilton was too much for her to bear.

“I just wanted to make sure that she got the files that were being asked for, Mr Chamley. We all know she seems to let her little fashion hobby get in the way of her actual job here.” Lola smirked as she tucked her bleached strands behind her ear with a smirk.

Xenia chewed the inside of her cheek to simmer the twitch of her palm to reach over and slap her. There were a lot of things to be said about Xenia and the disdain of her current job occupation but to try and imply that she was any less but good at her job was deeply insulting. Lola, pruny and loudly made it known that it should have been her in the position that Xenia was in. And if she could switch their places, she would. But Mr Hamilton had made it clear that he only wanted Xenia, even though they seemed to have each other.

Miles sighed as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sure that Miss Richards is more than capable of her job and has everything under control. Thank you, Lola.”

Lola huffed as she brushed her bleached strands from her shoulder and scattered away from Xenia’s desk. A sigh of relief left her lungs.

“Thank you, Miles.”

“Don’t thank me yet. What was that I heard about you not having a dress for tonight?”

A noise that sounded like a disgruntled groan left her mouth. She knew what he was going to say as she conjured up her excuse.

“I’m not going.”

“Come on Nia! You always say that!” Miles exclaimed with a hint of annoyance. His animated expression almost caused a smile to break out on her face.

”Listen. I’m always here as it is and I don’t want to stay here any longer than I need to. The party is in this building where I already feel suffocated and I won’t even be comfortable enough to drink. My enemies are everywhere and a drunken Xenia would be like food for fodder to the people.” Her last statement caused Miles to chuckle.

“I would much rather spend my night at home, take a nice and long bath then watch both versions of Black Christmas.” Her preferred plans sounded boring but they were honest. Xenia would rather enjoy her solitude than be surrounded by people who did not like her.

The annual Christmas party was the one thing that Xenia never had to set up; however, it was still her who ordered the decorations, figured out the catering and then the entertainment. Xenia was the unofficial party planner - another title under her hat that she was not getting paid for.

She was exhausted beyond belief.

Besides, she had too much to figure out before they broke for Christmas - Xenia wouldn’t be missed at the party.

“You can’t not go Nia.”

“Miles -.”

“Of course, she’s going. Why wouldn’t my assistant and the planner of the party be there?”

The deep voice of Satan bellowed through the air and almost forced Xenia to flee for her life. She had not seen him all day and now as she turned in her chair, she came face to face with her boss.

Lewis Hamilton. A brooding, muscled machine covered in a tailored suit and a million dollar Richard Mille watch on his wrist. Her eyes trailed down the thickness of his tattooed neck, broad shoulders and back up to his sharp jawline covered by his beard. Then her eyes settled on his soft and full lips that were tinted a soft pink. She hated to admit it but she loved his hair. He kept it in either braids or twisted plaits tied in a low bun. This time, two braided strands hung on either side of his face with the rest tied back which seemed to bring a softness to him that he did not deserve.

He was too handsome and ugly souls like him should not be handsome.

“I’m pretty tired sir. With everything that you’re having me do, I’m pretty worn out. I think I’ll sit this one out. Maybe next year?” Xenia let the sarcasm drip into her words and revelled in the way that he rolled his eyes.

“Not this time, Miss Richards.” Lewis spoke as he placed his hands into his pockets. The side of his face twitched in a way that showed that her tone had bothered him. He looked at Miles for a brief moment before turning his attention back to Xenia.

“Have you completed the list Mr Chamley gave you?”

Xenia frowned in confusion and slight annoyance. “You mean the list that he just gave me two seconds ago?”

“Watch that tone with me Richards. Get it done and then figure out your outfit situation for tonight.” His eyes dropped down the length of her frame, the heat of his stare forced her back straighter. “I’m sure because of your little hobby, you’ll be able to figure out something in such short notice.’

Without another word, he indicated for Miles to follow him before he turned and disappeared back into his office. That was it, a demand that he expected to be followed. No please. No thank you.

Dickhead.

Miles offered her an apologetic smile before he followed behind Lewis towards the office. Then she looked down at the list that had been placed in front of her.

Lunch from Bubala: Tuna Nicoise on toasted focaccia with the soup of the day.

Coffee order from Blank Street.

Dry cleaning from Nova’s (Need the shirt for tonight.)

She stared at the list, seemingly remembering the words from her interview. How she was supposed to his right hand and right hand only. Now she was doing that and somehow also finding the time to pick up his fucking laundry. Xenia looked around her surroundings before her moving eyes settled on the falling snow through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The slow and steadiness at which the snowflakes seemed to fall was a drastic contrast to the fast pace that her mind was running. Maybe if she was lucky, Santa’s reindeer’s would run her over with his dry cleaning getting trampled on.

Xenia was surrounded by the settling blankets of picture perfect snow as she walked down the Main Street in her FENDI vintage boots. Christmas lights decorated the buildings with wreaths hanging on each lamp post. Everything around her was perfect and yet, Xenia still felt like the Grinch but who’s Christmas was being stolen from her.

Everything about the festive holiday that should give her all the joy was not giving her the warm and fuzzy feeling that it used to. This had been the feeling that had been sentiment since the first year at Hamilton Enterprises. Lewis seemed to have sucked the life out of her. However, Xenia had to take a deep breath and remind herself that she won't be a personal assistant forever.

Her fashion content was rising in popularity and it was only a matter of time before the vitality would turn into constant income then she would be able to leave. For good.

She sighed to herself once more as she hauled the dry cleaning over her shoulder as she entered into Bubala. The low lights, exposed brick and the flush of the Christmas colours added to the things that she adored about the shop. The queue to the counter was atrocious but it didn’t bother Xenia at all. It only prolonged her time away from the office. The smell of freshly baked goods, warm soup and the sounds of cheery, festive music was far more appealing to her than the four corners of her small cubicle.

As she waited in line, she scrolled through her emails, grinning at a report from Rebecca. She had already sorted through the first predicted quarter of the merchandise branch. She was a stickler for deadlines, often completing the work before the imposed time. How Rebecca was able to find the time to do it all? Xenia would never know.

“That smile will always outshine the brightest star.” A soft voice cut through the chatter of the restaurant and nestled within her ears. Her shoulder relaxed as she peered at the owner of the voice.

Nathan Fieldman.

Modality manager of the radiology department at the Great Ormond Street Children’s Hospital. A Marvel enthusiast and the owner of the cutest golden daschund she’d ever seen.

Also, her ex-boyfriend.

Xenia offered him a platonic embrace, his Sauvage cologne causing her eye to water. She almost wanted to sneeze in repulsion. As they pulled apart, upon instinct, he reached out to touch her standing Afro. Yes, he was one of those men. But that wasn’t the reason that they had broken up. (even though in the long-run, it should have been a reason.)

No, they broke up because the leader of the Legion army of hell demanded so much of her time that it cut into the spending time that she had with Nathan. Their schedules did not align any more and she felt sorry for always leaving him hanging and cancelling plans last minute.

The guilt was heavy within her as she often left him to fend for himself. When she had suggested however, to quit her job and focus on being a fashion content creator, he thought that it wasn’t wise nor a sustainable career. That had been the last wedge in the relationship. So by the time that Xenia had asked for the break up, Nathan did not put up any type of fight. He was complacent in almost everything including the bedroom.

Now that she thought about it, there were a lot of things outside of her job that had resulted in the termination of their relationship.

“So what has you smiling like that Nini?” The cringey nickname made her want to vomit. Xenia did not miss that at all.

“Nothing in particular. I was just reading a report.” She kept her answer vague. Nathan’s eyes narrowed, pulling the rich brown skin at the corners of his eyes together.

“You still haven’t found your footing huh?”

“Not quite.” She answered with a smile that did not touch her eyes. She tried to ignore the rising insecurity within her at the tone of condescension in his words. He didn’t need to know that her lack of growth in the field of her passion was a soft spot for her and constantly had her worried that she would fail. The last person that she needed to confine in was her ex-boyfriend.

Clearing her throat as she shuffled forward in the queue. “So how is everything with you?”

Nathan’s eyes beamed, the skin of his cheeks spreading his five o’clock fuzz as he delved into the details of his past year in about the twenty minutes as they waited. She learned about all of the unique patients that he had come across and the department drama amongst his plans to expand into teaching university students. Along his retelling, he had mentioned that he had started dating again.

“So how’s everything with you? How are things for you these days?” Nathan finally asked Xenia as the both of them paid the cashier for their individual orders.

She shrugged her shoulders. What was there to say? Nothing had changed in the last year she had spoken to him. She was still stuck in the same job that she hated, doing things for a man she’d rather watch eat shit for pay as she struggled to produce any consistent content for her website.

“Nothing much. Just learning from the best around me, really.”

“That’s good to hear. Did you finally give up on the fashion stuff then?”

It took all of her strength to not tell him that it took an entire weekend in the Cotswolds to find the vintage Tory Burch blazer that she was wearing but the ping of her phone stopped her. As Xenia was about to offer an apology, Nathan placed a kiss on her cheek and picked his order from the counter.

“Duty calls, I know. It was nice seeing you, Nini. Take care.” A deep breath exhaled through her nose as she nodded. Xenia then grabbed her own bag from the counter as she looked down at her phone.

Arsehole: Coffee from MonMouth instead. Get one for yourself - I can’t have you sleeping before your duties are done. And sushi from Atelier for Mile.

Where were those fucking reindeers? She thought.

reading list: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @saturnville @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @cocobutterqwueen @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @sapphireheaven @olyvoyl @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @laneywrld @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bekindbecoolbeyou @greedyjudge2 @itsapurrfectstorm @createdbylivingclocks @omgsuperstarg @peyiswriting @miyuhpapayuh @blowmymbackout @purplelewlew @henneseyhoe @perfecttrashface @alianovnaromanovanatalia @leilaxaliel @hotfudgeslug @iamryanl @pickingupmymercedes @eleetalks @ambs-06 @annisassintchaska @boujiestpoet @nayaesworld @nat-lh-44 @mochachocolatteyaya @melaninpov @kindan3rdy951 @elyseesarchive @sl33p-deprived-princess @soiguessimtheshit @acidlv @trinitoldyouso @gwenda-fav @f1-football-fiend

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watchmegetobsessed · 10 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

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annerbhp · 13 days ago

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Do you think Bassenwaite and Tilly ever fall in love? Like to me it feels like it’s one of those “slowly then all at once” things but idk maybe you feel it’s just friendship and I 100% bow down to you on all things Changleing/Armistice (honestly my fave series of all time. I’ve never found anything like it)

Okay, so, like that was my original intention, even though there were some parts about that that didn't really sit well with me, mostly how much none of it was ever Tilly's choice. But, my intentions took a sharp turn after a very fun conversation with @runawaymarbles, and I changed my mind entirely. They are besties who would die for each other who end up staying married to each other for a long time out of necessity. They have a great relationship. It's just not romantic.

But there is another enemies-to-rivals-to-lovers pipeline for Tilly that I am rabid for, my friends, only made more delicious by her plantonic marriage. (I swear I already shared a bit of this, but tumblr loves to eat stuff, so who knows.)

but here! have a snippet:

“Fair warning,” Ron announces as they enter George’s flat. “Ginny’s just gone back to Ballycastle, which means Harry is still firmly in his standard three solid days of moping.”

Harry shoves him, Lee cackling with delight as he starts handing around drinks. It’s going to be one of those nights apparently.

Everyone gets pretty drunk. George is bitching about Tilly and her stupid fucking shop stealing his market share.

“Is the shop really losing business?” Harry asks Ron.

He shakes his head. “No. I think it’s more an ego thing.”

“It’s the principle!” George shouts. “This is my turf. And this shit about artisanal alchemy and hoity toity packaging. Give me a break.”

Ron glances over at Lee. He shrugs. “She just released a new product.”

“A fucking truth serum!” George exclaims. “Can you believe that?”

Harry frowned. “Is that legal?”

“See, that’s the thing,” George says, leaning close and poking him in the chest. “It’s recreational. It only works when the person who takes it consents to drink it. Can you even believe that? How fucking complicated it would be to make something like that work?”

Harry doesn’t even have a clue, but Lee nods along like it’s a miracle. “It’s brilliant.”

“Traitor,” George says, giving him a cutting glance.

“I’m sure it’s not that great,” Harry says, hoping to keep George from doing anything rash.

“No, it bloody is.” George shifts his gaze to Ron, eyes almost manic. “Did you have a wank today?”

“What?” Ron sputters. “No!”

“See? See how easily he lies?”

Ron makes a squawk of protest, face burning red. “Who said I lied!” He pauses, eyes narrowing. “Wait, you gave me the truth serum?”

George nods. “Put it in both your drinks!” He turns to Harry. “Did you shag Ginny this weekend?”

Harry refused to even dignify that with a response.

“But see? Watch this.” George pulls a delicate glass vial with floral designs etched around the side. “I take this truth serum knowingly and fully willing to let it work on me.” He swallows it down. “Ask me something.”

Lee doesn’t even hesitate. “Admit it, you find McGonagall sexy.”

George blows out a breath, instantly crumpling. “Fuck. Yes. I did. Still do.” He throws his arms up in defeat. “Ugh. This serum is bloody fucking brilliant, I have no idea how she managed it, and it fucking infuriates me.”

Lee grins at them. “Someone has a bit of a crush.”

George lets out a disgusted sound. “On Tilly?! She’s a bloody Slytherin. Who the hell would wish that on themselves?”

Harry slowly raises his hand and points at himself. And then, just to get back at George for daring to insult Ginny, “Also, I definitely shagged her this weekend.”

Everyone starts yelling at him at once, pillows flying in all directions.

“Just admit it,” Lee says once they settle again, taking a swig of fire whisky. “You like her.”

“Fuck,” George says, dragging both his hands down his face. “I do.”

“Isn’t she married?” Harry asks.

George collapses down on the floor with a wail, and everyone breaks down into absolute hysterics. They all get really drunk after that, mostly out of self-defense.

#armistice series #tilly #george weasley

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simpxxstan · 8 months ago

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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

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temptress-writes · 2 years 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

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bedoballoons · 1 year ago

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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!~*⁠.⁠✧

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chelseaknoo · 3 months ago

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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

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beaddie · 5 months ago

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AMARANTHINE - Dr. STONE

sum☆: "ᵉˡᵉᵍᵃⁿᵗ! "𝙰𝙼𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙴 (adj.) undying, immortal, eternally beautifulIn which Stanley Snyder, Xeno Houston Wingfield, and (Y/N) Ambrose were trapped in an unexpected stone world that had been petrified 3,700 years before. However, they were 'infiltrated' by some foreign brats all of a sudden.Of course, they don't give up without a fight, do they?

warnings:. all characters are 18+!!! violence. language. FICTION!! don't like it? scroll away!! first ever post on this app. english is not my first language, so ugh.(Dr. Stone x Reader)(Dr. STONE : New America City Arc) MANGA SPOILER

(CHAPTER 4) Z=152: Doctor vs. Doctor

As Chrome and Kohaku arrived at their designated vantage point, they were immediately struck by the sheer scale of the enemy factory. Its towering smokestacks and sprawling buildings dwarfed everything around it. Chrome, ever the strategist, was already on the line with the Perseus, relaying the latest intel.

"Perseus, come in! We have a new development," Chrome announced, her voice urgent.

On the Perseus, Senku and the others listened intently. "Got it. No more words," Senku replied, his tone equally serious.

"Right, since we're using radio waves, the enemy scientist could be intercepting our signal," Yuzuriha pointed out, her eyes filled with concern. Tsukasa nodded in agreement.

Just then, the Perseus received another incoming call. Magma, assuming it was Chrome, answered without hesitation. However, the voice on the other end was not Chrome's but that of Dr. Xeno, the mastermind behind the enemy forces.

"Greetings," Xeno said, his voice cold and calculating. "I presume this is your preferred frequency for communication?"

A wave of shock swept through the Perseus crew. The enemy had located their communication channel.

"MWAH HA HA! So you're the big bad guy, huh? You got guts!" Magma exclaimed, his bravado momentarily masking his fear.

"I apologize for my limited Japanese language skills," Xeno replied, his voice laced with disdain. "However, this conversation is not suitable for such primitive minds. I demand to speak with your science team leader."

The crew exchanged nervous glances. They knew who Xeno wanted to talk to.

"Put Dr. Taiju on the line," Xeno commanded.

Taiju, still dressed in his Gen costume, pointed at himself in confusion. "Me?"

Minami explained the situation to Senku, who realized immediately what was happening. "Ah, I see. This is Gen's doing," Senku said, picking his ear with his pinky finger.

"Guess I'm tagging in for Senku," Taiju announced, his voice filled with determination.

"Taiju here! That's Dr. Taiju to you! So you're Dr. Xeno, huh? Pay attention, because I've got something to say to you," Taiju shouted into the phone. "Shooting people with machine guns without warning... isn't nice!"

Senku, Ukyo, and Yuzuriha couldn't help but chuckle at Taiju's naivete. 'Well, duh,' they thought in unison.

"My apologies," Xeno replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "My soldiers, Stanley and (Y/N), merely wanted to demonstrate the chasm between our respective levels of science."

"Now, Dr. Taiju," Xeno continued, "as a fellow science-pro yourself, you must surely realize... we already possess a Haber Bosch plant."

Taiju's eyes widened in confusion. "A Haber... thingy? That's awesome, Dr. Xeno!" he exclaimed, clearly out of his depth.

Senku quickly intervened. "Don't talk more than you need to, you big oaf, or the cracks will start showing," he warned Taiju.

Minami asked Senku what Xeno was talking about. "What is he talking about?"

Senku explained. "A Haber Bosch plant is a factory that makes ammonia. In short, with just water and air, they can produce unlimited gunpowder and ammunition."

"So that's how they can fire those machine guns all day long!" Taiju shouted into the phone.

"You get the gist, Dr. Taiju," Xeno replied.

The Perseus crew was impressed by Taiju's performance. "Who knew Taiju was such a performer?" Ukyo said.

Yuzuriha couldn't help but laugh. "More like up front and direct," she replied.

"We are a collective of professional adults," Xeno said, his voice filled with contempt. "Unlike your ragtag band of merry youths playing with science. Now, I hope you'll surrender at once and serve me. Nothing more, nothing less. You see, our population is lacking."

Xeno explained that he didn't have enough manpower to de-petrify the statues and was therefore unable to expand his forces. He offered the Perseus crew a chance to surrender and serve him.

Ryusui realized why the enemy lacked revival fluid. Magma, however, was confused. "What's he mean? They don't have enough people? Why not just wake up the stone statues lying around everywhere?" he asked.

"HA HA! This tells us... they don't know about the revival fluid! Am I right?" Ryusui said confidently.

Xeno, realizing his mistake, asked how the Perseus crew had revived the statues. He was unintentionally revealing his ignorance of the revival fluid.

"Well, we..." Taiju began to explain, but Senku and Ryusui interrupted him. "We'll simply crush your group once we have the manpower to do so," Senku said, his voice cold and calculating.

Senku then revealed that they could have Corn City running with the formula. With that, Taiju rejected Xeno's offer, and Xeno promptly ended the call.

"You're never getting the revival fluid! Request denied, mister!" Taiju shouted into the phone.

"Very well. Negotiations have broken down then. What a shame," Xeno replied, his voice filled with disappointment.

Just then, the Perseus crew heard a noise and looked up to see another enemy plane flying overhead. The enemy had reinforcements.

"<Ooh, that's one whopper of a flagship,>" Stanley remarked, his eyes wide with amazement.

(Y/N), ever the daredevil, climbed onto the roof of the plane and sat in a makeshift seat, her machine gun ready. "<How cute~,>" she cooed, gripping the gun tightly.

Meanwhile, on the Perseus, the crew turned to Senku for guidance. "How can we fight back? We don't have an airstrip," Ukyo asked.

Senku's response was both unexpected and ingenious. "Then we just gotta make one," he replied.

"Where?" Ukyo asked, confused.

Senku pointed at the Perseus. "Here," he said. "We're going to build an aircraft carrier on the Perseus."

The crew was stunned. An aircraft carrier on a ship? It was a crazy idea, but it was also the only way to fight back against the overwhelming enemy forces. Senku announced that he and Kaseki would start building a runway.

"It's aircraft carrier time!" Senku shouted excitedly. "The Perseus is getting a total makeover!"

#xreader #dr. stone x reader #dr stone x reader

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lillaydee · 2 months ago

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Matchmade Part 6

Millionaire! Joel Miller / Reader

Having experienced traumatic, life altering events, a freshly divorced Joel worked to repay his debt to the person he owed his life to.

WARNINGS:

Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Lives (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Character Death, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 5

---

You blinked several times at her.

“How’s your mom, Tanya? Is she well?”

“Ugh, just like you to ask about her. She’s fine. Still alive. Come on, is your boss single? Hey, little girl, do you have a mommy?”

Sarah blinked at her, an obvious distaste in her look.

“Hey, when someone speaks to you, you answer,” she said, raising her voice slightly.

Sarah let go of her fork and climbed onto your lap, hiding her face in your blouse.

“God, I don’t know how you can stand kids. I was just asking a question. Sheesh. Spoiled much?”

You asked her nicely to please leave you alone, didn’t she have a conference to attend?

“Not until you give me his number.”

You just stared at her. The gall of this woman. Did she really think you would just give away his number like that?

“Oh my God,” she said, clasping her hand on her mouth, a shocked look on her face. “You want him for yourself, don’t you? You actually think you have a shot with him? You?”

She gave you a pitying look. “Look, Addie, I get it. You’re in a rut. Maybe someone like that can pull you out of it, but you need to look at yourself in the mirror first, okay? He’s way out of your league. I mean, regardless of what he does for a living, he’s here at this conference, and you are someone he pays to nanny for him. Look, maybe if you’re in your early twenties, you have a shot, you know? The cliched dad falls for nanny thing, but you’re 30 babes. Be real.”

She got up and left.

You realized then that you had your hands clasped over Sarah’s ears, the way you did with Allie when she was little, not wanting her to hear the venomous arrows Tanya had been firing at you since you were little.

It’s nothing new. She had always done this. And you didn’t always take it lying down. But as you two became adults, she was more… subtle and clever with her digs. She made sure you were in positions where you couldn’t fire back. A child in your arms, for example. Or a threat to your sister, or your job.

You had enough of her digs at your supposed failure. You had no idea why she hated you so much. The two of you used to be such good friends. And now, she seemed to have made it her life mission to make you as miserable as possible.

You made sure Sarah finished her meal and took her out to the Kiddy Zone the resort had put out sitting next to the play area watching her play or helping her with whatever activities she wanted to do. She made one or two friends and had a few snacks. Towards the afternoon, she was captivated by the face painting lady. She chose a butterfly motif and begged you to get her a pair of butterfly wings and antennae headband that was sold at one of the vendors.

You took a picture of her with her face paint and her butterfly wings and sent it to Joel. He immediately replied with some hearts and smiley hearts. She was so happy, she began talking about make up designs, and these other butterfly wings she saw at the vendor, and the next thing you knew, you were waiting for the family at the dining hall for lunch with a very excited Sarah in your arms while she was smoothing out a smudge on your face paint and straightening your wings and antennae on your headband.

The first thing the family saw when they got to their table was a very giggly Sarah, and a very dour you, your mouth in an unamused pout, your body in a surrendering posture. The shit you do for cute kids, huh? Tommy and Maria laughed supportively at you, patting you on the shoulder, and cooed at Sarah. Tess was trying so hard not to laugh at your sour face, she had to hug you to hide her face.

From afar, you saw a very smug looking Tanya stare at you, shaking her head at your face painting, wings and headband. She made a point to go to you while you were getting Sarah food, telling you that she could not believe you would go so low, dressing like a child in a room full of businesspeople just to impress a child. Only a shameless attention seeker would do that, and you obviously had not changed. Still seeking for attention wherever you go.

Joel had joined the family when you got back, and he looked at you with an impressed smile, while you walk defeatedly to the table and served Sarah her food. He laughed a little, took your antennae headband and put it on his head, placed Sarah on his lap and took a selfie, making sure that you were in the frame too. Sarah giggled uncontrollably every time the antennae wobbled on his head, a sound he clearly enjoyed hearing, as he kept wobbling his head on purpose while helping his daughter eat.

When you went to get more drinks, Tanya called you shameless, whoring yourself like that for your boss, taking selfies and acting all child-like for him. You lost it.

“What is your problem, Tanya? So I am a nanny. So I let some lady paint my face, it’s all part of the job. So what? How does that affect you in any way? Why are you so hellbent on calling me this and that? I haven’t bothered you, at all. You being here is a sign of your success. And I’m nannying, as you keep reminding me. I have nothing to lord over you, and you have everything. So why are you still hounding me?”

Her smug, sneering face snapped shut. Anger clearly taking over.

“Is everything alright, here?” Joel asked, taking you by the shoulder to his side.

Tanya immediately put on a sickly-sweet smile, “Just catching up with an old friend, that’s all,” she said.

The older man you saw him talking to that morning came up, taking Tanya by the waist. She looked disappointed, and hesitantly let him do so.

“Miller, glad to see you again. Could we have a drink this evening after your keynote? Would love to continue our discussion from this morning,” he said.

Tanya’s expression changed, she looked downright impressed, eyeing him up and down, suddenly impressed with an adult wearing an antennae headband. “You’re Joel Miller? Oh, I heard what happened to you. So happy to see you are doing well! Aren’t we, Georgie?” she cooed at him, reaching over and rubbing his arm. Joel pulled you closer to him and took a step away, going nearer the older man.

‘Georgie’ cleared his throat, and Joel told him they will talk later, he’s going to have lunch with his family now. The man nodded and shook his hand. Joel helped you get more drinks, asking you if you were alright. You just nodded, annoyed at Tanya’s brazenness. You saw from the corners of your eyes the man taking her by the hand to talk to her, while she grumpily followed, her eyes rolling in annoyance.

Sarah was falling asleep as she was finishing her lunch, so you told everyone you will see them at dinner, that you would be taking Sarah to the small amusement park later. They all gave Sarah a kiss and told her to have a good nap, Joel waiting until she was in your arms to kiss her. He put the headband back on your head and told you he will see you at dinner.

You spent Sarah’s nap time watching TV, but not really. You tried to relax, but for some reason, seeing Tanya and hearing her venomous words put you at an unease. You had a feeling that wasn’t the last you’d hear from her. She had always found ways to make your life difficult. Your biggest worry was that she would get her poison on Joel, somehow, and your job at the daycare would be in jeopardy. You couldn’t afford to lose that job. You needed to get your life in line again, having lost everything that mattered to you. You were starting from almost zero. You had a plan. Get a job, check. Get a place to stay, pending. Save some money, pending. Go back to school, pending, and right now, oh so far away, almost beyond your reach, it felt like. No matter. One day at a time. And hopefully, after this weekend, you won’t see Tanya again.

**********

Joel sat between Tommy and Tess during the conference, unable to focus on anything. He kept seeing that woman who was talking to you turn around to look at his table, trying to get his attention. She gave him the creeps. A very… ‘Liz’ vibe seem to emanate from her. He didn’t like it. And the man she was with, George, some higher up in one of the government departments, kept asking him for an ‘in’ on his business, wanting to ‘invest’. He entertained the man out of politeness but got a weird vibe off him too. He asked Tess to look into him, see if everything about him was legit.

The one thing he noticed straightaway was the fact that the man was wearing a wedding ring, and she was not. He’s not one to presume, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he had a wife waiting for him somewhere.

And her, he didn’t like the way she seemed to be treating you. Even from afar, she seemed to sneer at you a lot, and you, with Sarah around, never seemed to respond. So when he saw you did at the buffet during lunch, he made himself known, not wanting you to have worries this weekend. You deserve a break, even if you were technically working. He also didn’t want you mentally affected by this woman; your body language didn’t seem welcoming to her. He didn’t want that to affect Sarah too.

So far, from what he had heard from Sarah and Tess, you seemed like a great person. And what he had seen these two days, you were great with Sarah, and seemingly good natured around his cuckoo collection of a family. They all seemed to like you. He’s thankful for that.

He promised Allie he would find you, make sure you were alright. Thing was, he didn’t actually find you. More like, luckily stumbled into you. Did that count as keeping his promise? Maybe not. So, he should focus on making sure you were alright.

Two problems though.

One, he didn’t actually know you all that well. To make sure you were alright, he had to make sure you were a good person, a reliable person. What if you turned out to be a murdering psychopath? Okay, that’s not likely, seeing as you had managed to help keep his daughter alive for a month. And she loved you so much ‘Miss Addie’ might as well become a mantra. But you didn’t seem to be the kind of person who would accept help. When you told him you hadn’t decided where to inter Allie, he had a sneaking suspicion that there was more to the story, but he didn’t want to overstep. He didn’t want to throw money at you. He had a feeling you would be offended by that. He needed to get to know you better in order to help you. And this weekend, he had the chance to get to know you a bit better, and he intended to.

Two, and this might be the biggest problem of all. The problem that he couldn’t tell anyone about. The problem that might cloud his judgement of you. One that could affect how he might decide to make sure you were okay.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you.

But that’s impossible, right? Since he had met you that first time at the hospital all those months ago, he had met you only a few times. Sixteen times, in fact, not that he was counting or anything. All he knew was he looked forward to hearing about you when he got home, and hoped you weren’t too busy to chat a while when he dropped Sarah off or picked her up. That he would find himself unable to stop smiling whenever he talked to you. That he felt at ease with you.

Last night, when Sarah asked you to stay for him to read a story, his heart was pounding so hard he thought you might be able to see his shirt move. He had never had that experience – lying in bed with Sarah and a woman. Liz had never been interested to join in bedtime routine. It was always him alone. Over time, he found that he enjoyed them. His special time with his BabyGirl. He wouldn’t even let his Mama join the bedtime stories with her, and Sarah had never asked anyone to join in either. And last night, he found out he didn’t mind having you join in. He stayed a while after the two of you fell asleep, watching you breathe, his daughter snuggled up in your arms. Another something he had never seen Liz do. His heart did that thing again, making him feel warm all over. He watched you for so long, he fell asleep, Sarah between the two of you, his first uninterrupted sleep since the incident, until the sound of the door closing woke him up.

And today, he saw his little girl so happy spending time with you, and you… you just looked adorable with the face painting. He had to fight the urge to kiss you on the pink and red nose the painter had put on you. He could tell you were a bit embarrassed, so he took your headband and placed it on his head instead. It paid off, Sarah giggled so much his heart felt so full it could burst.

He placed his phone under the table and opened the latest photo he had taken. Him and Sarah, matching headbands on, and you, with a reluctant smile, sitting right next to him. He smiled to himself, zooming in on the picture a bit, taking in your candid face, for stock, until he could see you again in a bit.

A sharp nudge to his arm broke his smile, his eyes meeting Tess’s smirking face, her eyes on his phone, which he quickly hid in his suit pocket, meeting Tommy’s smirking face on his other side as he did so. His face actually felt hot. He put on his most annoyed face and pretended to pay attention to the speaker, seeing Tess and Tommy’s shoulders move from trying not to laugh. Maria turned, distracted by her husband’s shaking. Tommy whispered something in her ear.

And now there were three of them smirking at him.

Damn it.

**********

You and Sarah were not in the room when he went up to change before dinner. He found himself extremely disappointed at his discovery. He video called you, and you answered, a huge smile on your face, Sarah’s giggling face came into view. She was driving one of those cars that ran on a track, having the time of her life. Look Daddy! I drive! Good job BabyGirl! She was making vroom-vroom noises, and honking so much, showing off to him, he wanted to run to the amusement park to join in on the fun with the two of you. You ended the call when it was time to get off the ride, promising to meet him at the dining hall for dinner.

Dinner was spent with everyone checking in with Joel about his keynote speech that night, and Sarah showing everyone all the videos you had taken of her on the different rides she went on. So much ooh-ing and aah-ing was going on, you were really touched at how much all of them loved Sarah. She had so much fun, she was nodding off before you could finish your dinner. You got up to take her upstairs, Joel joining you, not wanting to miss bedtime. He saw Tanya watch the three of you go up, a disapproving look on her face. He chose to ignore it, taking Sarah from you, while you carried the backpack you had brought with you to the amusement park.

Bedtime consisted of placing her in bed after a slight tantrum over having to change into her PJs, so Joel had some time to kill before his keynote speech. He waited for you to shower, aware that you didn’t finish your dinner. He told you to order room service, he didn’t want you to go to bed hungry. You nodded and thanked him, earnestly wishing him luck for his big speech. He said thank you, touched that you would say that to him.

As he got back into the elevator, his thoughts were on your good luck wish. He’d been to these conferences before, and Liz had always spent her times at the spa, leaving Sarah with Mrs Adler completely, and sometimes, didn’t even come back to the room. Never once did she wish him luck for his speeches, or his pitches, he doubted she even noticed, so long as the credit card worked.

The speech was a success, and he was surrounded by so many people wanting to talk to him after. He went to the lounge for the drink he had promised George and listened patiently as the man talked. He couldn’t shake the weird vibe he was getting from this man, the vibe that got stronger as Tanya joined them, having changed into a dress that was far too revealing for a business meeting. George’s phone rang, and he excused himself to answer it.

Tanya immediately pounced, sitting herself so close to Joel she might as well be on his lap. Joel immediately moved to the next chair, placing his jacket on the chair he was on. Tanya seemed to get the hint, albeit with annoyance.

“So, how long has Addie been nannying for you? Your daughter is so cute by the way. What’s her name?”

Joel took a sip of his drink, asking her how long she had known you.

“Oh, we go way back. She used to live next door to me. We grew up together,” she said, downing her drink, and snapping at the bartender for another. “Surprised to see she’s nannying now, to be honest. Everyone on the street thought so highly of her.”

There was an annoyance to her tone. Joel didn’t like it but decided to hear her out anyway.

“So, you knew Allie?”

“Tsk, annoying little brat. You know your nanny raised her since she was two? Classic spoiled kid. So rude. Said whatever came to mind. Trust me, you don’t want your kid growing up like Allie.”

Joel kept staring at her, taking another sip of his drink.

Tanya was suddenly aware how angry and annoyed she sounded and put on a simpering nostalgic face as if reminiscing fondly at the thought of Allie, “So sad, what happened to her,” she said, shaking her head.

Joel didn’t react. He took another sip and kept listening.

She shuffled her chair closer to him. He put his foot on the chair next to him when she tried to move it. She leaned in instead, whispering conspiratorially at him.

“But see, that’s why I was so shocked you hired her. She’s not exactly trustworthy, Addison. She got fired from her last job for slacking at work, you know. She would just leave… just like that, in the middle of a workday - and came back whenever convenient. And the amount of complaints on her record, sheesh. I’m surprised she lasted that long at that job. And of course, after Allie died she spiralled. Drank herself to sleep every night. She lost her house you know? She claimed it was because of Allie’s medical bills, but who knows? She’s a great liar. Last I heard, she’s homeless now, living in her car like a bum.”

Joel placed his glass on the table, clearly reacting to this news.

“She’s living in her car?”

Tanya smiled a victorious smile. That got his attention. She put on a faux innocent, concerned face and nodded.

“Sadly, yes. You know what these people are like, I mean, what if she takes advantage of you and your money and hurt your daughter? What if she was drunk when taking care of her?”

She took his jacket off the chair between them, and sidled in next to him, her hand on his arm and thigh. He followed her touches with his eyes.

“Really, Mr Miller, trust me. I’m only thinking of your daughter. You don’t want to trust someone like Addison with your child.”

---

Part 7

@peelieblue @feenoire @vickie5446

#joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #millionaire Joel Miller

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mildcharacterenjoyer · 2 months ago

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Mishap Mismanaged - Day 1 Fire/warning

I'm using both words in the prompt in my fics to see how they turn out!

Words - 564 -

Warnings: None

Tails! It’s an emergency!” Rouge’s panicked voice filled the kitchen of her apartment. “Omega is malfunctioning and I can’t put up with this anymore! Yes. I know you’re on vacation but can you cut it short?” Rouge’s eyes darted to Omega who was firing random weapons at irregular intervals from her dining room window.

“TAILS. I CANNOT CONTROL MY ARTILLERY SYSTEMS.” Omega yelled from his position.

“He’s involuntarily firing into the street! If it weren't for Shadow evacuating the block and putting up traffic cones, I’m not sure how many lives would be lost! 3 hours? Fine. We’ll manage somehow!” Rouge angrily hung up and adjusted the ear plugs she had in, making her way through the destroyed room towards Omega.

“Tails will be available in three hours!” She yelled over the noise of his weapons.

“ACKNOWLEDGED. UNIT WILL FIRE INTO DESIGNATED ZONE CREATED BY SHADOW UNTIL DETERMINED OTHERWISE.”

Out of the corner of her eye, a flash of red caught Rouge’s attention. Shadow zipped into the room.

“G.U.N. is here.” He dusted off rubble from his gloves and air shoes.

“About time!” Rouge sighed and followed the hedgehog outside. There were about two tanks and several cars that showed up, surrounding the massive hole in the road and yard in front of the apt.

“Rouge!” An angry blond-haired woman in G.U.N. uniform stomped up to her. “I can’t believe you went against my direct orders. This is why we don't let you keep Omega in your apartment!”

A pitiful pout made its way into Rouge’s face. “Aww. But Topaz, he gets so lonely all by himself at HQ.” Rouge batted her eyelashes.

“WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING…” A group of G.U.N soldiers began to unfold thick kevlar tarps around the wall that Omega was firing from. It was the only phrase he could repeat to keep those attempting to contain him from harm.

“Lonely is better than firing into the goddamn street for two hours straight!” Topaz’s shrill voice caused both mobians to flinch.

“Three hours actually.” Shadow deadpanned.

“Right.” Rouge agreed with Shadow. “And It might have been two hours or less if you had been here earlier!” Rouge quipped back towards the G.U.N. commander.

“So help me Rouge I will strip you of your rank!”

“Try me.” She grinned. “You wouldn’t dare.”

All Topaz could do was grit her teeth and walk off. She shouted some orders at the soldiers near the kevlar tarps. “Tear down that wall and load the war machine into the truck!”

“What?! No! That’s my apartment!”

“Your apartment is littered with holes.” Shadow pointed out. “It was unlivable after five minutes of Omega’s onslaught. It's just a wrecked building now.”

“I liked the layout!” Rouge pouted. “Now I’ll have to move again!” They watched as the kevlar mats fully encompassed Omega and the G.U.N. soldiers loaded him into the heavily armored semi-truck.

“Maybe this wouldn't have happened, had you kept Omega at GUN like Topaz initially ordered you to do.” Shadow crossed his arms and smirked.

“But-”

“Face it, Rouge. You did this to yourself.” He pointed at her. “Call me when you want to move. If, there’s anything left to move.” Shadow flashed a rare, snarky grin and skated off leaving Rouge alone with her destroyed apartment.

Her ears lowered, surveying the wreckage she just knew she was going to hear from the landlord about. “Ugh. Fine.”

#shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #sth #rouge sth #omega sth #shadow sth #team dark week #teamdarkweek #rouge the bat #e 123 omega #e-123 omegaq

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icallhimjoey · 1 year ago

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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

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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

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