#it's so small and subtle but so endearing;;;

[dailylcy]

BANANA PUDDING - a lee chanyoung oneshot

이찬영 “꽃잎이 번지면 당신께도 새로운 봄이 오겠죠”— when the petals spread , new spring will come to you too.

⟢ pairing: costumer!anton x barista!reader 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

synopsis: You work at a coffee shop in New Jersey, where Anton, a regular customer, always orders the same dessert: banana pudding. What starts as small, friendly exchanges turns into something more as you both begin to notice the subtle chemistry between you. As time goes on, Anton slowly breaks out of his usual routine, making gestures that hint at deeper feelings. will this end as another romance story?

⟢ word count: 1.4k 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 ⟢ genre: fluff , slice of life ish ☆⋆｡𖦹

The door of the cafe chimed as Anton walked in, a little messy from the rain outside, his hoodie pulled over his head. He paused for a second as he rubbed off the droplets of rain on his clothes , looking around the cozy interior like he was trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. When his gaze landed on you behind the counter, you gave him a smile.

“Hey there! What can I get you today?” you asked, wiping your hands on your apron as you looked up to meet his eyes.

He seemed a little unsure, his eyes scanning the menu above your head. “Uh…I’ll just have the banana pudding please” he said, his voice was quieter than you expected. It was almost shy, like he was confessing to you instead of just ordering dessert.

“Good choice” you smiled, pulling the container down. “It’s our best-seller. I’ll have it ready for you in just a minute.”

As you got to work, you noticed Anton still standing by the counter, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes were everywhere like he didn’t know where to look. There was something endearing about his nervousness, like he was trying to be invisible, but failing in the cutest way ever.

You decided to ask him about it. “First time here?” you asked, handing him the small bowl of pudding.

He took the bowl, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. You could’ve sworn your heart skipped a beat , but you didn’t let it show. “Yeah. I’ve heard good things, though” Anton said, his eyes briefly meeting yours before he quickly looked away.

“Well, I hope we can live up to what you’ve heard” you said, giving him a last small smile and going to one of the tables waiting for their food. He smiled shyly back at you before moving to an empty table by the window.

You watched him for a moment as he sat down, stirring the pudding. His focus seemed so intense, like he was in his own world. part of you wondered if he was always this quiet, or if it was just because he’s shy around strangers.

The days that followed were the same pattern. Anton would come in, order his usual banana pudding,sit by the window and repeat. if you got lucky , you two would exchange a few words, nothing too deep, but there was always a quiet warmth in your conversations.

One afternoon, you were cleaning the counter when you heard his voice behind you again. “I was thinking of trying something new today. What would you recommend?”

You turned around to find him standing there, his hands shoved deep in his hoodie pockets, looking almost nervous. It was a total opposite to the usual calm he carried.

“New? Really?” You leaned against the counter, pretending to look over the menu. “I’m impressed. You’ve been loyal to the banana pudding for a while now.”

He shrugged, looking down at the floor. “I don’t know. I guess I’m feeling like trying something new today.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Alright, i think you would like the strawberry shortcake, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s a little less… safe.”

He grinned at that. “I like a good challenge.”

When you handed him the dessert, you both locked eyes for a second, the air between you suddenly felt heavier. His smile was a little more confident this time, and there was something about the way he was looking at you that made your pulse quicken.

This time , You were the one backing off from the eye contact, The way he looked at you made your stomach ache , in a good way! But you couldn’t understand what is happening to you every time he’s around..

Those days turned into weeks, and Anton’s visits became a part of your routine. It wasn’t just the banana pudding anymore. It was the small moments you shared — the way he asked about your day, the way he looked at you when you handed him his order, the way his voice softened when he talked about anything that seemed important to him. There was a growing connection, but neither of you seemed to know how to acknowledge it.

One evening, after the café had closed already and you were getting ready to go home, you found Anton sitting by the window, looking out at the darkening streets. The light from the café cast a soft glow over him, making him look almost like he belonged there. You walked over, brushing a few stray strands of hair out of your face before talking.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked, your voice softer than usual.

Anton turned to face you, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, just… thinking.”

“About what?” You sat down next to him, the air between you two now feeling intense in a way you couldn’t ignore.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the window. “Just… about you.” he said, the words coming out slower than usual.

Your heart skipped a beat. “me?”

He nodded, a small, almost unoticeable sigh escaping. “Mhm. Every time I come here, it just feels like…I don’t know. Like I want to be closer to you, but I’m not sure how.”

You felt a warmth rush through you, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted, “You know, I feel the same way.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. There was just the soft sound of the rain tapping against the window, and the realization that what had been slowly building between you two was now impossible to ignore.

Anton finally turned to face you fully, his expression serious. “So, what do we do about it?”

Your breath caught in your throat. There was something about the vulnerability in his voice that made everything feel so much more real. You reached out, your hand brushing against his, the warmth of his skin against your coldness sending a rush through your body.

“I guess we take it slow” you whispered, not sure where this would lead, but knowing it was what you wanted to happen

Anton’s eyes softened, and he gave you a small, relieved smile. “Slow sounds good.”

A week later, you found yourself standing outside the aquarium, Anton beside you, his hand brushing against yours every once in a while as if testing the waters. The place was quiet, lit by soft blue lights and the calm sound of water. You were both a little nervous, a little unsure, but there was a gentle sense of thrill in it too.

“I didn’t know you were going to bring me to an aquarium when you said you wanted to take me out” you said as you walked side by side, looking into a tank filled with glowing jellyfish.

Anton shrugged, his hand now more firmly wrapped around yours. “I don’t know, something about it calms me down. Plus, it’s quiet…sorry if you dont like it”

“I like it” you said, and he asked with a small laugh. “You sure?”

You glanced up at him,looking at his eyes, warm but shy. “Yeah. Its Quiet, like when you’re here, I like quiet”

he suddenly grabbed your hand , intertwining your fingers, sending a small shiver up your spine. The moment felt like it could go in a million different directions, but Anton’s grip tightened slightly, grounding you both.

As you reached towards the end of the aquarium, you stopped in front of a large tank full of colorful fish. The soft light made the whole space feel like a dream. Anton turned to you, his eyes searching yours for a moment.

“I love you” He said. Then, before you could say anything, he stepped closer, leaning in, and kissed you gently. It was soft, hesitant at first, but it deepened slowly, the taste of his lips lingering as the world around you seemed to fade away.

When he pulled back, He had that smile he had when he first saw you and for a moment, neither of you spoke. There was no need. The kiss had said everything.

That day you came back to anton’s place and as you closed your eyes, Anton wrapped around you, You couldn’t help but smile, knowing that this connection, this slow love, had all started over something as simple as banana pudding.

note: “When I was living in the US, there was a place that made really delicious banana pudding.” - anton 2025 , if u wondered what inspired me to write this <3 ( and also bcs i love banana pudding )

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© dailylcy pls dont not repost on any other platform !

[nulltune]

the way she is so consistently bad at understanding herself (lol) (affectionate🫶) but i love these lil lines a lot...... even though hakuno struggles to contextualize her feelings properly, she does have them and cares a lot more than she realizes 🥹 !!!!! and i am a big fan of hakuno coming to understand the heaviness of feelings that come from small actions like these 👍

[nottsangel]

sweet relief — t.n.

pairing: best friend!theodore nott x toxic!reader

warnings: smut 18+, modern au, unprotected vaginal sex, fingering, creampie, oral sex (m. receiving), praise, toxic and obsessive behaviour, mentions of threats, mentions of taking/using explicit photos

word count: 4.7k

summary: best friends is all you and theodore were, but the jealousy of seeing him with someone else was suffocating, driving you to take matters into your own hands.

♪ madison beer — sweet relief. moodboard. nav. more.

“Theo?” you softly called out to your best friend, who was too fixated on his phone, grinning uncontrollably at the bright screen as he quickly typed away. Fresh from Quidditch practice, his brown tousled locks looked even darker than usual, still damp from the shower he took, and his handsome face flushed from the warmth. You studied every single detail of his face, from his ocean-blue eyes to his soft, pink lips. 

Lost in admiration, you nibbled on your bottom lip, picking at your nails as he simply hummed in response, not even glancing up from his phone. Normally, you’d get annoyed, moping about how he didn’t pay enough attention to you, but before you even could, your eyes were then drawn from his face to his quick fingers—swiftly moving over the glowing screen—leaving you with a strange, unexplainable feeling. 

You caught yourself fantasising about filthy thoughts that made you feel a rush of shame, but still, you couldn’t help it. It was hard not to imagine how your best friend’s long, deft fingers would feel deep inside of you as they— 

“Alright.” Theo abruptly mumbled, causing you to flinch, snapping you out of your trance before your thoughts could wander further. He locked his black, metal phone and quickly stuffed it into his pocket as he rose to his feet, your eyes intently following his every movement, frustration clear on your face.

“I’ve—” “gotta go, yeah.” you finished his sentence, a hint of disappointment evident in your voice, yet he couldn’t help but grin at your pouty expression, only finding your clingy behaviour endearing. He stepped closer, gripping your jaw affectionately and tilting your head up until your eyes met his, the innocent, doe-like gaze you gave him made him weak in the knees.

“We can hang out later if you want, alright? Just text me, bella. I’ll make time for you.” he murmured in a soothing tone, unconsciously causing a small smile to tug at your lips and your furrowed brows to soften, eventually nodding in agreement. 

“Good girl.” He nonchalantly gave you a quick wink that made your stomach flip as he gently rubbed his thumb over your warm cheek, and you so desperately wanted to keep him close to you, his absence weighing heavy on you each time, yet, you watched him leave the room, making you wonder what he was up to.

But you had your suspicions about where he could be. It wasn’t a secret that he was a player, just like all his friends, with some different girl in his room almost daily. And fuck, it drove you crazy. The thought of him being with someone else filled you with heartache. It was difficult for you. He was yours. 

A few hours passed of you aimlessly scrolling on your phone in the common room, but you already missed his comfortable presence around you. His warmth, the subtle touches, and his charming Italian accent that never failed to make your heart skip a beat— you needed him close to you again, so you opened your messages.

You : Are you free? I’m bored! :( 

Teddy 🧸 : Busy. 

Yup. That was all the confirmation you needed. The short, cryptic text said it all— he was with a girl right now. Fuck fuck fuck. Your relaxed, bored state instantly shifted into rage as sheer jealousy rushed through your entire body, causing you to unconsciously clench your jaw and ball your fists.

It honestly baffled you how girls still dared to come near him, especially considering how many of them you’d already threatened. Yes, threatened. It was no secret among your fellow female students that you were crazy possessive over Theodore— you’d go to great lengths to keep them away from him. He was yours, for fuck’s sake, and you’d do anything to keep it that way. 

Take last week, for instance, when you subtly slipped a menacing note in a girl’s bag after seeing leave Theo’s dorm the night before, sternly warning her that if she ever dared to come near him again, she would deeply regret it. 

Or the week before that, when you somehow got a hold of nudes—through Lorenzo, of course—of a girl who had been hooking up with Theo, essentially blackmailing her with them. Don’t worry, you weren’t going to spread the nudes anyway— no, you weren’t that cruel. And you knew it didn’t even have to get that far because they always seemed to back off instantly, leaving you satisfied and happy. 

And those weren’t the only times you threatened or intimidated girls that have slept with Theo, and it most likely won’t be the last either if he keeps sleeping around like that. Dickhead.

And although you explicitly told every single girl not to mention it to Theo whenever you ‘warned’ them, you were certain he had gotten wind of it somehow, considering how fast news spreads in hogwarts. But surprisingly, he had never confronted you with it, still treating you the same way like he always did. You didn’t know why or how, but you also didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was protecting your friendship with him. 

You quickly rose to your feet, your hand gripping your phone so tightly, it was a wonder it didn’t shatter in a million pieces by the force you were holding it before hurriedly making your way to the Slytherin dorms, your heartbeat rising with each determined step bringing you closer to Theo’s room. 

With your head held high and tension furrowing your brows, you strode through the chilly hallways, the cold air forming goosebumps on your exposed arms and legs, but you didn’t even seem to notice as you stomped your feet forward, your resolute steps echoing as you neared his door. 

When you finally stood in front of it, your hand reluctantly reached for the handle, but you hesitated, pausing for a moment before eventually pulling back. Instead of opening the door right away, you pressed your ear carefully against the wood, trying to catch any sounds coming from inside his dorm room.

As you closely focused on listening, a group of younger students caught your attention, slowing their pace as they noticed you with your ear pressed against a male student’s dorm room door, their puzzled stares lingering on you.

“What are you looking at? Go!” you whisper-yelled in an urgent and stern tone, dismissively waving your hand in the air as they snap out of their trances and quickly rush off, a smug smile forming on your lips at how easily they obeyed. 

Letting out a sigh, you pressed your ear to the door again, your eyes narrowing in concentration as you were holding the doorframe for leverage. Your grip gradually tightened as the sounds from inside grew clearer— loud, high-pitched moans, and a string of ‘Fuck, theo!’s resonated through the wooden door, and you were fighting the urge to punch a hole right through it, but instead your hand drifted down to the door handle.

Without thinking, you pulled it down, and your eyes widened in shock when you realised he hadn’t even bothered to lock it. You impulsively swung the door open without a second though, your heart pounding in your throat as a sudden scream filled the air.

The scene in front of you made your blood boil. A blonde girl—one you recognised from shared classes—frantically grabbed the white sheets to cover her completely naked body while Theo was hovering above her, his eyes locking with yours, yet surprisingly, he didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. 

Your eyes were irresistibly drawn to Theo’s throbbing erection, widening in shock when you realised he was bigger than you ever imagined, desire twisting in your stomach. But you were quickly snapped back to reality by the girl’s shrill, grating voice, pulling you out of the daze.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” She screamed, her baby blue eyes narrowing in anger, her tousled blonde locks framing her flushed face and her chest heaving rapidly beneath the sheets. Oh, this fucking bitch.

“Teddy, I’m—I’m so sorry but do you have my dress in your closet? You know, the red one? I just really need it right now…” You lied, biting your lip with your brows furrowed, putting on your best act. A small chuckle escaped his lips, amazed by your terrible timing, yet still finding it adorable, his relaxed demeanour only infuriating her more. 

“Yeah, sure. Hang on a second.” The girl scoffed, glaring at Theo, and you could practically see steam coming out of her ears— but Theo didn’t even acknowledge her, his eyes fixed on you as he flashed you a warm smile that made your face heat up.

“Seriously?! You’re helping her? Now?” Theo simply ignored her, quickly pulling on his boxers as he nonchalantly walked to his closet, his back turned to both you and the girl. For the first time, your eyes locked with her blue ones, and you flashed her a mocking, sly grin. The sweet, innocent facade you put on instantly faded, shifting into one of triumph.

“Here you go, amore.” Theo’s stunning eyes met yours, offering a sweet, sympathetic smile as he handed you the dress, his hand brushing against yours and it felt like time stood still for a moment, gazing up at him through your eyelashes with sparkling eyes until—

“She’s being fucking annoying, can’t you see that?” Lost in Theo’s eyes, you nearly forgot she was in the room as well as she scoffed once more, shaking her head with a sneer, her lip curling and her brows furrowed, “This bitch is doing this on pur—” 

“Don’t you fucking dare talk about her like that, you hear me?” Theo suddenly spat, taking quick steps towards her, pointing a threatening finger right into her shocked face.

His demeanour shifted in mere seconds. It even shocked you for a moment— it wasn’t a side of Theo you’d seen before, at least not with girls. He always stood up for you when guys mistreated you, but this… This was different, and ohhh, it made your heart swell. The way fear flashing in her eyes sent a thrilling rush of warmth and affection through you.

“But… Teddy—” Teddy. That was your nickname for Theo. By now, your fists were gripping the dress so tightly that your sharp nails had punctured the delicate fabric, your jaw clenched in sheer anger, barely holding back the rage simmering beneath the surface. Still, you fought to maintain the facade of the sweet, oblivious girl. 

“Get out.” Theo ordered in a low, stern tone, a tiny, mischievous smile tugging at one of the corners of your mouth as you watched the scene unfold in front of you with great satisfaction. The girl’s eyes darted from Theo to you and back to him in utter disbelief. 

“Are you fucking serious? You’re gonna kick me—” 

“I said… get the fuck out.” Theo repeated himself, and you could tell each emphasised, stinging word hit the girl like a slap to the face as she briefly stared at him before hastily putting on her clothes. She quickly left the room, her shoulder deliberately bumping into yours followed by aggressively slamming the door behind her. 

Theo then turned to you, his fierce expression instantly softening as he approached you and brushed his thumb over your heated cheek, causing your head to slyly turn away. It worked. He actually fell for it.

“Sorry about that, cara mia. Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, she was just… so mean. I—” Theo let out a light chuckle, clearly amused by you. He shook his head in disbelief, his eyes momentarily leaving yours before landing back on your face, his gaze darting from your left eye to your right eye and down to your lips, causing you to squint. Is he doing the fucking triangle metho— 

“You can drop the act, bella.” He growled, his voice deeper and darker now. You tried to focus, to regain your composure, but you felt lightheaded, your breathing shaky and weak as he stood before you in merely his tight boxers, the outline of his semi-hard cock visible through the thin fabric and his body from years of Quidditch muscular and sculpted. 

When you realised that you were staring, you then quickly looked up at him with a faux puzzled expression, your head slightly tilted and your eyes widened in surprise. 

“What? You think I didn’t know?”

“I—, uh, I don’t know what—” you stammered, trying to lie your way out of this mess you were in, but it was no use. 

“Oh come on, baby. I’m a bit offended that you think I’m that dumb.” He taunted, and you felt your heart drop. He knew. 

“You think I don’t know about you threatening all these girls? Huh? You’re so adorable.” You blinked rapidly, unsure if you’d heard him right. You had been convinced that if he ever found out what you’d been doing behind his back, it would be the end of your friendship. For good.

“Listen, alright? I just— I didn’t have a fucking choice! All these girls were all over you, trying to steal you from me… from me! They had no fucking respect for us and—“ You frantically spewed out words a thousand miles a minute, desperate to defend yourself, but you were abruptly cut off when he reached behind your thighs and lifted you up, drawing a surprised squeal from your lips. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his bare upper body as he carried you and pressed your back firmly against the cold stone wall. 

You felt his steady heartbeat against your body from how close he was to you, and you were certain he could hear your own heart pounding out of your chest as his fingers dug into the skin of your thighs. This was the closest you two have ever been, and it left you breathless.

“Is this what you wanted all this time, tesoro? For me to fuck you like I fuck all these others girls?”

It was.

He drew his head nearer to yours until his soft lips were merely inches from your ear, his warm breath on your heated skin sending electric shivers down your spine.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you even better.”

Before you could even react, he walked you over to his bed and tossed you onto it, your body bouncing slightly from the impact. Without hesitation, you spread your legs, inviting him in, and he immediately climbed on top of you, his towering frame completely covering your entire body as his hands pressed into the mattress on either side of your head, his crotch pressed against your throbbing core.

Your panties were absolutely drenched as your breath hitched, his hips grinding in slow, deliberate movements against yours, and god, you were floating on cloud nine, desperately trying to savour every intoxicating second of this moment. His hand found your jaw, fingers gliding sensually up your soft skin before tilting your head to the side to expose your neck.

Instantly, he latched his lips onto your flesh, sloppily sucking dark love bites that made your heart race. You gasped at the sensation of him biting, nipping, and kissing your sensitive sweet spots, sending waves of pleasure through you. Your eyes gradually fluttered shut, arms wrapping tightly around his neck— but then, an uncontrollable sound of disgust escaped you as your nose pressed into his satin sheets, pulling you sharply out of the heated moment.

“What’s wrong, amore?”

“It just— it smells like… her.” Theo couldn’t help but laugh, slowly pulling back from your neck, clearly amused by your endearing yet possessive behaviour, his lips quirking into a playful grin.

He bit his lip as he intently stared at your annoyed expression, his face merely inches away from you, a combination of his aromatic cologne and smoky cigarettes flooding your senses. The scent was so distinctively him, causing you to take another subtle sniff.

“Let me distract you.”

His soft lips were suddenly pressed against yours, completely catching you off guard as your eyes momentarily widened, but you gradually melted into the heated kiss, your hand slowly trailing up his toned, bare back before landing on the back of his head, desperately pulling him closer. You felt blood rush to your core as your tongues danced against each other so effortlessly and so perfectly, your fingers running through his dishevelled, brown locks as he gently tilted his head, deepening the kiss further.

At the same time, his firm hand wandered down your body, fingers gliding over your silken skin until they reached your clothed core, his hand pressing against one of your inner thighs to spread your legs further apart. Teasingly, he toyed with the elastic waistband of your skirt for a moment, eliciting a frustrated, impatient groan from you before finally sliding it off, carelessly tossing it to the ground. 

His roaming hand then found its way back between your legs, gently rubbing your aching cunt over your soaked panties, a teasing, devilish smirk playing on his lips that you could feel through the passionate kiss before he slowly pulled back, leaving you breathless.

“This wet already? You know you could’ve just asked me to fuck you, tesoro. No need to threaten all those poor girls.”

“Yeah… right.” You scoffed, finding it hard to believe as your eyes briefly flickered away from his, a wave of scepticism washing over you.

With intense eyes locked onto yours, he slid your lace panties down, mindlessly tossing them to the floor as well before peeling away the rest of clothing, leaving you fully naked under him, surrounded by a chaotic pile of fabric on the wooden floor.

He paused for a moment to admire your breathtaking figure, eyes hungrily scanning every inch of your body, from your dripping cunt to your tits and hardened nipples. He bit his lip as he felt his painfully hard erection pressing against the thin fabric of his boxers, forming a damp patch of precum.

“Oh, c’mon bella.”

Theo’s fingers hovered tantalisingly over your core, causing you to instinctively buck your hips upwards, desperately craving to feel them inside of you as he crawled on top of you again, piercing, lust-filled eyes staring right into your soul.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment.”

Oh, fuck. He slowly pushed his long fingers into your dripping cunt—two at a time—stretching you until he was knuckles deep inside of you, causing you to arch your back at the overwhelming sensation, your lips parting in ecstasy. The tips of his digits found your g-spot in no time, swiftly rubbing against the spongy surface as you desperately gripped his flexed arm, your sharp nails digging into the skin.

“Every time I was fucking one of those girls, I closed my eyes and imagined it being you, cara mia.”

His words rushed straight to your core, causing you to clench tightly around his fast fingers as every muscle in your body tightened in response. He couldn’t help but smirk at the instant reaction, only egging him on to increase his pace. His fingers curled up so perfectly, pumping in and out of your dripping cunt with slick, wet sounds along with your breathy moans echoing through his dorm room.

You were so close to the edge, the intense pleasure building as his fingers quickened their pace, until he suddenly came to a halt and pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine at the sudden emptiness.

“Theo! What the f—”

“Ah, ah, ah; don’t whine. I need to feel you cum around my cock, alright?” He growled, his voice dripping with raw lust at just the thought of you wrapped around his cock. In one swift motion, he quickly removed his boxers, his throbbing cock springing free against his stomach, the tip slick with glistening precum as you nearly drooled at the sight. 

He pressed his strong palms against your inner thighs, spreading your legs wide as he positioned himself in front of you, but you unexpectedly stopped him, making him raise a curious brow.

“Wait… just— uhm… let me suck your dick first… please?” you begged, your voice laced with desperation as his surprised eyes shifted into dark, lustful ones. He immediately beckoned for you to move in front of him as he leaned back on the bed, his back resting against the headboard, his hands casually tucked behind his head.

“Well… you don’t have to ask me twice, pretty girl.”

Finally. It felt like a dream come true. You positioned yourself on your knees in front of him, your eyes intensely fixated on his huge, pulsating cock, practically begging for you to suck it. You slowly drew nearer, teasing him as he felt your warm breath ghosting over his sensitive skin, his hips impatiently bucking up in response. 

With one hand wrapped firmly around the base and the other resting on his flexed thigh, you began to give it gentle, playful kitten licks, your tongue flicking delicately against the tip, earning a low hiss from Theo as you tasted the salty precum. It didn’t take long before you took him fully into your mouth, slowly moving down until your lips made contact with his balls and the tip touched the back of your throat. One of his hands unconsciously travelled to your head, fingers tangling in your hair. 

“Oh, fuck, baby. Just like that.” Theo praised, a deep sense of pride swelling in your chest as you lightly gagged on his length before pulling your head back up. Your tongue swirled over the most sensitive parts of the tip as you retracted, a combination of drool and precum coating your swollen lips, trickling down onto his balls.

“Give me your phone, please.” you suddenly asked, catching Theo off guard. He tilted his head in confusion, yet without further questions, reached for it from his nightstand and handed it over to you with a hint of curiosity.

“My password is—”

“Yeah, I know.”

You mindlessly unlocked his phone, his lips parting to speak, but before he could utter a word, you had already wrapped your lips around his pulsating cock once more, causing him to throw his head back in pleasurable surprise. As you swiped across the screen, you finally found the camera app and held the phone up high in the air, angling it towards your face while simultaneously bobbing your head up and down, eyes staring directly into the camera lens.

“Oh, shit. You’re— you’re fuckin’ crazy, cazzo.” he let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh, his voice thick with both admiration and raw desire, staring down at you through half-lidded eyes and a cheeky, lopsided smirk dancing on his lips.

Snap. Snap. Snap. You took several pictures from different angles, your mouth stuffed full with Theo’s cock as he now held your hair back in a ponytail, guiding your head up and down his erection, making you gag each time it hit the back of your throat. You quickly locked his phone again and tossed it aside, your focus snapping back to his cock as you immediately increased your pace, causing Theo to grip your hair tighter, desperately trying to stop you.

“Ah, ah, careful… you’re gonna make me cum, baby, fuck.” he warned, insinuating that he wasn’t ready to finish just yet. You slowly pulled away, giving him a teasing smile, your lips slick and swollen.

“C’mere.” he growled, taking your hand and dragging you effortlessly on top of him, his wandering hands trailing possessively over your back to your ass, before he flipped you over in one swift motion with Theo ending on top of you, a predatory grin plastered across his face.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” he taunted, a lustful gleam sparkling in his eyes with his aching erection pressed against your thigh. His warm breath ghosted over your skin as his lips brushed against your ear, sending shivers racing down your spine.

“Listen… I will fuck you until you’re dripping with my cum. Until you’re screaming my name. Until you can’t fuckin’ walk anymore.” His words gave you chills all over your body as your arousal began to trickle down your thighs, leaving a messy trail over your legs.

“‘Cause that’s what you wanted all this time, isn’t it?” Theo moved back and pumped his cock a few times, his impatience evident in every motion. He positioned himself between your legs and finally pushed into you, his arms caging you under him as he hissed at the feeling of you wrapped around his cock. He gave you a moment to let you adjust to his size, his cock completely filling you up as he was buried balls deep inside of you. 

Him, inside you, felt so intoxicating, better than anything you could’ve ever imagined, both of you consumed by tremendous levels of passion and lust. He started slow, dragging out each deep thrust, making you feel every inch of him as he stretched you completely, massaging your inner walls so perfectly.

“Baby… you look so beautiful like this… So fucking sexy.” he managed to mutter in between ragged breaths, making you moan loudly as he gradually increased his pace, relentlessly pounding into you now. 

“My. Favourite. Girl.” he praised, each word punctuated by deep thrusts as his lips captured yours in a heated kiss, moaning into your mouth. And you— god, you felt better than he ever imagined, so tight and warm, perfectly wrapped around him, as if you were made for him. 

“So fucking big, oh my god” you moaned breathlessly, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck, pulling him closer until your sweaty bodies were pressed together. 

You hooked your legs around his muscular torso, giving him an angle to go even deeper as his cock hit your g-spot over and over. Theo clutched the sheets, his knuckles turning white with his head buried in the crook of your neck, desperately trying to hold back, to not cum too soon— but fuck, you felt incredible, squeezing him so perfectly. 

“Yes, yes, yes, right there!” you cried out, your voice shaking from pleasure and your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pure bliss.

“Taking my cock so well, amore, fuck” he growled, his voice deep and strained and his pace brutal, causing you to cling onto his broad shoulders, nails digging deep into his skin. His lips moved frantically across your neck, planting wet, sloppy kisses all over your skin as his hand crept to your core, rubbing fast circles on your swollen clit all while still maintaining his brutal pace.

“Theo, oh- oh my fucking god, I’m almost—” 

“Let go for me, baby.” he whispered huskily into your ear as his fingers worked faster. It didn’t take long before he pushed you over the edge, causing you to arch your back and moan his name over and over again, your nails dragging down the length of his back, leaving red trails all over his skin.

“Atta girl. Doin’ so good for me.” He groaned through gritted teeth as his thrusts grew sloppier, less controlled. He breathlessly moaned your name so beautifully as his orgasm hit him, emptying himself inside you and filling you to the brim with his cum. He slowed his movements, gently riding out both of your highs, before carefully pulling out and collapsing next to you, his arm wrapping around you, both your breathing ragged and uneven.

You sluggishly grabbed his phone from the nightstand again, unlocking it with determined fingers, your chest heaving up and down as you scrolled through his messages. The screen lit up with dozens of texts— girls asking to hook up, sending him nudes. The anger you’d felt before instantly surged back, tightening in your chest. 

“What are you doing?” Theo questioned, his eyes narrowing as he followed the movements of your fingers across the bright screen, a puzzled expression on his face. 

“Making sure none of these girls ever talk to you again.” You smirked with a mischievous glint in your eyes as you scrolled through each chat, sending the pictures from earlier to every single girl in his phone. A self-satisfied, smug grin stretched across your lips as you watched the messages go through, one by one. 

“You’re fucking insane, you know that?” Theo chuckled, shaking his head in both disbelief and amusement, yet clearly turned on by your boldness. 

“That's why you’re my favourite.”

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

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[rafecameronssl4t]

Actors on Actors || Drew Starkey x actress!reader

Summary: Actress!reader and Drew partaking in Variety's Actors on Actors!!

Warnings: not proofread sozz

Word count: 3,057 loooong one

A/n: damn I felt like I was in the interview room for this one

MASTERLIST

Drew couldn’t keep his eyes off you as the crew flitted around, prepping for the Actors on Actors interview with Variety. You were standing just a few feet away, laughing lightly at something one of the staff members had said, your head tilted back, eyes sparkling. To him, you looked utterly breathtaking—ethereal, even. Everyone knew Drew Starkey had the biggest crush on you.

He was never subtle about it, often caught in candid interviews or behind-the-scenes clips praising you, his admiration so obvious it became a running joke among his friends and colleagues. But right now, as he adjusted his mic and watched you from the corner of his eye, he wished he hadn’t been so vocal about it. His nerves were getting the best of him.

What if he said something dumb? What if you already thought he was just some lovesick fool? He swallowed hard, trying to calm the fluttering in his chest as you walked toward the set, your heels clicking softly against the floor. “Drew Starkey,” you greeted warmly, a radiant smile lighting up your features as you settled into the armchair opposite him.

You sat first, crossing your legs effortlessly, the picture of poise. “Y/n,” Drew smiled back, leaning forward slightly to kiss both of your cheeks. The casual intimacy of the gesture sent his pulse racing, but he played it cool as you let out a soft laugh, your perfume lingering faintly in the air.

“How’s it going?” he asked, his tone steady, though there was a barely perceptible edge to it—a nervous undertone that betrayed just how much this moment meant to him. His gaze lingered on yours, longer than what might be considered polite, but you didn’t seem to mind. “I’m good, and—” You paused mid-sentence as Drew suddenly leaned forward, his brows knitting together.

“Sorry—hold on,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, softer, as his fingers reached toward the hem of your dress. “You’ve got a little something.” Before you could respond, he gently plucked a stray piece of lint from the fabric, his fingertips brushing ever so lightly against the material.

The touch was fleeting, almost inconsequential, but it sent a quiet thrill up your spine, one you quickly masked with a polite chuckle. “Oh—thanks,” you said, your voice airy as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re welcome,” Drew replied, his lips curving into a shy grin, his usual confidence momentarily replaced by something more boyish and endearing.

For a moment, you could swear his ears turned a little pink. You leaned back, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you studied him. Of course you knew Drew Starkey had a crush on you. It wasn’t exactly a secret.

But there was something undeniably flattering about it—something that made you feel just a bit lighter, a bit more self-assured. However, you'd be lying if you said you didn't have a crush on him. It was Drew Starkey after all.

Your eyes met again, and the silence between you stretched into something that felt almost electric. Both of you wore soft, bashful smiles, the moment teetering between unspoken words and playful tension. Finally, you broke into a small laugh, breaking the spell, and Drew looked away, scratching the back of his neck, his own smile lingering despite himself.

“You know,” you began, shifting slightly in your seat, “it’s kind of funny. We’ve both been at so many of the same events, but we’ve never actually talked until now.” Drew chuckled, his posture relaxing just a little. “I know, right? It’s crazy. First time was… the Glass Onion premiere, wasn’t it?”

You nodded, humming in agreement. “Yeah, I was there supporting Madelyn," Drew spoke. "Ugh, I miss Maddie," You give a small pout as Drew chuckles. “And then Immaculate, I remember standing right behind you in the photo line.” You laughed, your cheeks warming at the memory.

“Oh my god, yes! And somehow, we still didn’t even say hi.” “And then the Queer premiere a couple weeks ago,” Drew said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Right,” you said, leaning forward slightly as your laughter softened into a chuckle. “It’s wild how we’ve been orbiting around each other this whole time.”

“Crazy, huh?” Drew murmured, his voice lower now, his eyes soft as they lingered on you. The way he looked at you was different—not just admiration, but genuine warmth, curiosity, and something else you couldn’t quite place. “How’s everything been?” Drew asks, leaning back in his chair, his voice warm but tinged with curiosity, as if he genuinely wants to know every detail.

“It’s good,” you reply with a soft smile, shifting slightly in your seat. “I’m here in LA, which is nice—” Before you can finish, he interjects, his brow arching in curiosity. “You’re from New England, right?” You click your tongue playfully, tilting your head at him. “I see someone’s done their research, Mr. Starkey,” you tease, flashing him a playful wink.

Drew’s grin widens, and he throws his head back in laughter, the sound rich and easy, like he’s completely at ease for the first time since the cameras started rolling. “I had to, didn’t I? You’re not exactly an open book. I had to dig deep.” “Oh, is that so?” you challenge, your voice lilting with mock skepticism.

“Well, since you’re so curious, tell me—what do you know about New England?” you challenge, leaning forward slightly. He grins, but it’s a little sheepish. “Not much, if I’m honest. You’ll have to fill in the blanks for me. What’s it like there?” Your eyes widen in exaggerated disbelief, your hand fluttering to your chest like you’ve been insulted.

“Wait—you’ve never been? My goodness, Drew! Come with me, and I’ll show you around properly,” you say, your tone teasing but full of warmth. His smile softens, and he leans in just a little. “I’d like that very much,” he says, his voice carrying a quiet sincerity that makes your breath hitch for a fraction of a second. “Well then,” you reply with a chuckle, regaining your composure.

“I think we can organise something. You’re from North Carolina, yeah?” Drew hums in confirmation, his grin widening. “Born and raised. But I gotta admit, New England sounds pretty tempting now.” “It should,” you quip, pointing at him playfully. Then, after a beat, you lean in slightly, an amused gleam in your eye.

“Can I just say—and I’m sure you get this a lot—I’m a huge fan of Outer Banks.” Drew raises an eyebrow, his grin turning slightly bashful as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh no, don’t tell me you’re team Pogue,” he jokes, but his eyes are fixed on you with a playful sparkle.

You snort softly, clasping your hands together in your lap. “Not quite. But I’ve gotta say, you play Rafe so convincingly. How do you approach a character like Rafe? I mean, you’re, you know… the complete opposite of him.” You chuckle, your words carrying a mix of admiration and disbelief.

Drew leans back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully before clearing his throat. “Well, Rafe is a challenge, to say the least. He’s not your typical villain. It’s easy to hate him on the surface, but if you dig deeper, he’s this broken guy with so many vulnerabilities. That’s where I try to focus—on making him human. I want people to see why he makes those awful decisions, even if they don’t agree with them. It’s all about balance.”

You nod, your expression softening as you listen. “That’s fascinating,” you say earnestly. “It’s definitely what makes him such a compelling character.” Drew smiles, but you notice something different about his gaze. He isn’t just answering your question—he’s watching you, his eyes holding a softness that makes your heart skip a beat.

Before the moment can linger too long, Drew shifts the focus back to you. “And your character in Ghosted,” he says, his voice warm and curious. “It’s so different from anything you’ve done before. How did you prepare for that role?” You smile at the question, grateful for his genuine interest.

“It was a lot of emotional work,” you admit, leaning back slightly. “She’s so different from me in so many ways. I spent a lot of time understanding her motivations, her fears, and what drives her. It’s a very internal role, so the process was… draining, to say the least. But also rewarding.” Drew’s lips curve into a soft smile as he leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Sounds intense,” he says, his voice quieter now. “I’ve always wondered in the film how you guys manage to keep it together when the emotions run that deep.” You shrug lightly, a thoughtful smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not easy, but that’s the beauty of the craft, isn’t it? Tapping into those emotions and channelling them into something real.”

Drew nods, his expression softening even further. There’s something unspoken in his gaze—something that lingers longer than words can express. “Yeah,” he says finally, his voice dropping just a fraction. “I get that. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re incredible. I’ve seen your work—it’s inspiring.” His words hang in the air, heavy with sincerity, and you can’t help the rush of warmth that floods your chest.

A small, genuine smile spreads across your face. “I could say the same for you,” you reply softly, your eyes meeting his. For a moment, it’s like the rest of the room fades away, leaving just the two of you, sharing something unspoken yet deeply understood. Drew shifts in his seat, leaning forward slightly, his curiosity evident. “So, let’s talk about Saltburn. You played Venetia Catton. How did you even begin to prepare for a role like that?"

You smile, the mention of Saltburn immediately bringing back memories. “Honestly, Venetia was one of the most challenging but rewarding roles I’ve ever taken on. Emerald Fennell has such a sharp, specific vision as a director, and she brought so much depth to every single character. Venetia wasn’t just the surface-level socialite that she might appear to be at first glance. She’s deeply entrenched in this world of privilege, but there’s a kind of desperation underneath it all—this need to hold it all together, to maintain this facade of control.”

Drew nods, his expression thoughtful. “I feel like Emerald has this incredible knack for creating characters who feel both larger than life and painfully real. What was it like working with her?” “Incredible,” you answer without hesitation. “Emerald is so collaborative and detail-oriented, but she also gives you the freedom to bring your own interpretation to the role. She’s this powerhouse of creativity, and you always feel like you’re in safe hands with her. She’s also hilarious—like, incredibly funny—so even on the more intense days, there was always this underlying sense of ease on set.”

Drew smiles at that, clearly invested. “And then there’s the cast. I mean, Rosamund Pike, Barry Keoghan, Jacob Elordi—they’re all such giving actors. What was it like working alongside them?” You exhale softly, recalling the dynamic energy of the cast. “It was surreal, honestly. Rosamund Pike is… well, she’s Rosamund Pike. She’s this commanding presence on set, but she’s also so warm and generous as a scene partner. Barry, on the other hand, is just a chameleon. He’s fearless in the way he approaches his craft, and watching him work was like taking a masterclass every day.”

“And Jacob?” Drew asks, his tone light but curious. “He’s been everywhere lately.” “Jacob’s amazing,” you reply with a smile. “He’s so grounded, which is kind of funny considering the larger-than-life characters he’s been playing lately. But on set, he’s just this really laid-back, thoughtful guy. We had a lot of fun with our scenes together—he brings this kind of effortless charisma that makes everything feel natural.”

Drew leans back in his chair, letting out a low whistle. “That’s a stacked team. No pressure at all, right?” You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, no pressure whatsoever. Just casually working with some of the most talented people in the industry.” “Well, you pulled it off,” Drew says sincerely. “Venetia felt so fully realised—like, even in her silences, there was so much going on beneath the surface. It was fascinating to watch.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, his compliment catching you off guard. There’s an earnestness in his voice that makes your heart skip a beat. “So,” you say, shifting into the next topic, “you’ve played a lot of interesting characters—Rafe Cameron, of course, but also roles like Zach in The Other Zoey and the projects you’ve got coming up. Do you feel like people expect you to stick to certain kinds of roles because of how iconic Rafe has become?”

Drew’s smile fades just a little, his expression turning thoughtful. He seems to appreciate the question, his blue eyes searching yours for a moment before he answers. “Yeah, there’s definitely that expectation sometimes,” he admits. “Rafe is such a big character, and I think when people see you in one role, they assume that’s all you can do. But as actors, we want to stretch ourselves, you know? Surprise people.”

He pauses, his gaze never leaving yours. “It’s kind of like you, actually,” he adds softly. “You’ve done dramas, you’ve done comedies… you’ve proven that you’re not just one thing. I think that’s what makes people really root for you—you're versatile. You don’t let them put you in a box.” The sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, and you can feel heat rise to your cheeks again. You shift slightly in your seat, trying not to let his words completely throw you off balance.

“That’s… really nice of you to say,” you murmur, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I think that’s the beauty of what we do, right? Showing people different sides of ourselves, through the characters we play.” Drew nods, his eyes softening. “Exactly. You just said it better than I could.” You smile, letting the moment hang between you for just a beat longer than it probably should.

You adjust in your seat, leaning forward slightly as you shift the focus of the interview. “Alright, let’s talk about Queer. You play Eugene, and from everything I’ve heard, it’s such an emotionally rich and complex role. What drew you to it, Drew?" You smile as he laughs. “Honestly, it was the script. You know with it being based on William S. Burroughs’ novel, and the way it explored themes of longing, identity, and self-destruction… it was just so raw. Eugene is such a fascinating character because he’s flawed, but you can’t help but empathise with him. It felt like a challenge I couldn’t pass up.”

You nod, smiling softly. “It sounds like it required you to really dig deep emotionally. Was it intimidating stepping into a story like that?” “Completely,” Drew admits with a laugh. “But it was also the kind of role that forces you to grow as an actor. I had to be vulnerable in a way I hadn’t been before, which was scary but also freeing. And having someone like Luca Guadagnino directing—it felt like a safety net, you know? He creates such a safe, collaborative environment.”

“Luca’s brilliant,” you agree, your voice filled with admiration. “And then there’s Daniel Craig. What was your experience working with him? I mean- I remember working with him on Glass Onion and being blow away by how meticulous he is." Drew grins, a flicker of boyish excitement crossing his face. “Oh, he’s incredible. Daniel is one of those actors who’s just so present in every scene. He has this intensity, but he’s also really generous as a scene partner. He listens, reacts—he makes you feel like what you’re doing really matters.”

You smile, nodding your head, "He's also got such a great sense of humour!" Drew laughs, nodding. “Exactly! Like, he can go from delivering this super heavy, emotional scene to cracking a joke that has the entire crew in stitches. It’s such a unique balance, and it keeps the energy on set really light, even during the intense moments.”

“Do you have a favourite memory with him from filming?” you ask, genuinely curious. “There’s this one scene we did that was really emotionally charged—like, full-on tears and everything,” Drew begins, his smile softening. “After we wrapped the take, I was still kind of in that headspace, and Daniel just clapped me on the shoulder and said, ‘Well, that was bloody exhausting, wasn’t it?’ It snapped me out of it, and we both just started laughing. It was one of those moments where you realise, ‘Okay, this is heavy, but it’s also what we love to do.’”

You laugh at the image of Daniel’s bluntness, shaking your head. “That’s so him. He has a way of grounding you, doesn’t he?” “Completely,” Drew agrees. “And honestly, having him on set made me feel like I had to step up my game. He’s such a pro, and you can’t help but want to match that level of commitment.”

You tilt your head, studying him for a moment. “It sounds like Queer really pushed you as an actor, in the best way.” “It did,” Drew says earnestly. “And, you know, hearing you talk about working with Daniel—what was it like for you? I mean, I imagine Glass Onion had a very different vibe, but I’m sure he brought that same energy.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you reply. “Daniel has this way of making everyone feel like they’re part of something special. And with Glass Onion, there was this playful energy because the story is so twisty and fun, but Daniel was always so focused and intentional with every scene.” Drew leans in slightly, clearly fascinated. “Did you ever have one of those moments with him where you just stopped and thought, ‘Wow, I’m working with James Bond’?”

You laugh, nodding. “More than once! It’s impossible not to. But then you get to know him, and he’s just… Daniel. Down-to-earth, funny, and incredibly kind. It makes you forget about the whole ‘James Bond’ thing—at least for a little while.” Drew grins. “That’s good to know. I feel like we’ve both been lucky to work with him, even if I’m still a little starstruck.”

“That’s what Daniel Craig does to you, ladies and gentlemen,” you teased, your laughter light as you pointed at the camera, winking playfully. Drew’s amused chuckle followed, a soft sound that matched the warmth in your tone. The atmosphere of the interview had shifted, the playful banter between the two of you creating an easy camaraderie as the conversation drew to a close.

“Well, I think we’ve discovered we have a lot in common after all,” Drew said, his smile widening as he turned toward you. His eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and genuine appreciation. “This has been a great pairing, truly.”

Your smile softened as you met his gaze, the connection between the two of you almost palpable. “I think so too,” you responded, your voice light and sincere, a soft chuckle escaping you as your gaze lingered on him. “Very great pairing,” you added, your words more than just agreement—there was an unspoken understanding, a mutual respect that hung in the air.

Drew’s smile widened slightly at your reply, the chemistry between the two of you becoming more evident as the final moments of the interview came into focus. Despite the cameras and the public personas, there was something undeniably real in the exchange, something that hinted at more than just a professional connection.

[catchastarorten]

—Hair tie

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho x lover!fem!reader

Summary: why hunt down his own hair ties when he could just steal yours instead?

Content: fluff, kisses, no games au, Dae-ho being a hair tie thief, english isn't my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: ~ 0.9k

The drawer was almost empty again.

You frowned, pulling it open further, as if the motion would magically summon the missing hair ties back into existence. But no, there were just two lonesome bands left. Your favorite blue one—gone. The black one that never snagged—gone.

You always kept your hair ties in a little wooden drawer, nestled among your earrings. But now, as you reached for one to tie up your hair with before washing your face, you only found there were two left.

You were meticulous about these things, always buying extras and keeping them in neat little rows. And yet, they seemed to vanish.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. You figured you might’ve misplaced them or accidentally lost a few. But then, you saw him—Dae-ho, the sweet, clingy man you adored—sitting on the couch with one of your black hair ties securing his messy ponytail.

You stared for a moment, confused. “Is that… mine?”

Dae-ho looked up from his book, his lips parting slightly as he realized what you were pointing at. Then he grinned sheepishly. “Oh… yeah. I couldn’t find mine, and, well, yours was just there…”

“Dae-ho!” you laughed, more amused than annoyed. “You could’ve asked.”

“I was going to put them back,” he said, looking so guilty you almost felt bad for teasing him. Almost. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Of course I’d notice. My stash is gone because of you.”

He frowned softly, putting the book down and opening his arms, as if begging for a hug after being scolded by you.

His hand reached up to tug at the tie in his hair, looking up at you as you made your way over to him with a small sigh. “Do you want this one back?” he asked softly, worried you might actually be upset at him.

You shook your head as his arms wrapped around you, unable to resist when he started spreading little kisses on your forehead and temple. “No, you can keep it.” you hummed.

From that moment on, it became a habit—one you found a bit endearing, if you were being honest. Whenever Dae-ho needed a hair tie, he’d raid your wooden drawer without a second thought.

Sometimes he tried to be sneaky about it, but he wasn’t exactly subtle. You’d catch him rifling through your things, his broad shoulders hunched like a child caught stealing cookies.

Other times, he didn’t bother hiding it at all, simply plucking one from the drawer with a soft grin and a quick kiss on your lips—then a kiss on your face, as if that would make you forgive him. And it always did.

He didn’t mean to always steal your hair ties, not really. It was just... easier for him to snatch one from the drawer than to hunt down his own.

You didn’t really mind. Not on most days, anyway.

One evening though, you did need a hair tie—desperately.

You were halfway through making dinner when a gust of wind from the open window sent a strand of hair into your face. Cursing under your breath, you tucked it behind your ear, only for another strand to escape. The kitchen was too hot, the recipe was more effort than you’d anticipated, and your hair, usually manageable, felt like an uncooperative child refusing to behave.

“Dae-ho!” you called, wiping your hands on a dish towel.

He appeared in the doorway a moment later, his expression somewhere between apologetic and guilty, as if he already knew what you called out to him about. His hair was tied back, as usual, and you could see one of your missing hair ties keeping it in place.

“Yes... love?” he asked, his voice so soft and warm it nearly melted your resolve.

“I need a hair tie,” you said, folding your arms. “And it seems you’ve taken all of mine.”

He blinked, then glanced down at his wrist. You hadn’t noticed before, but he had a spare hair tie looped around it—your hair tie. Without hesitation, he pulled it off and handed it to you, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Here,” he said. “I always keep an extra for you. Just in case.”

For a moment, you were too stunned to speak. You stared at the hair tie in his hand, then back at his face. He looked so earnest, his eyes warm and full of love. It wasn’t just that he had thought to keep a spare for you—it was the fact that he had done it so naturally, so effortlessly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, even if he had taken it from you in the first place.

You took the band, your chest tightening with a wave of affection. He stepped closer to kiss the top of your head, his arms looping around your waist. “Don’t be mad. I love you.” he murmured softly, his nose buried in your hair as he nuzzled against you.

“I love you too, you thief,” you muttered, though there was no bite to your words. How could there be, when he was wrapped around you like that? Adorable and impossible to be mad at.

[morthstaar]

Please, PLEASE Tulpar crew x a very shy/introverted reader who is like crushing on the crew really hard but way too shy and embarrassed to tell them but like the crew starts to slowly catch on to them and the way they act different around them. Also I don't mean the crew as a whole I mean the separate characters 😭🙏🏽

ask and u shall receive 😈

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

OH GOD, YOU CAN TELL?

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

Captain Curly

-oh.. curly knew from the moment you laid eyes on him that you had the biggest crush on him.

-there is no slow realization.

-not at all oblivious to it.

-everytime your eyes would seemingly uncontrollably and totally unconsciously drift to him he would try to meet your gaze with a friendly, boyish smirk.

-does that happen? HELL NAH. you are much too shy to even look the captain in the eye.

-your little heart almost beats out of your chest at any interaction. little or big.

-"Hey, just the person I needed to see. I have a little favor to ask you."

-oh god. suddenly words seem hard to pronounce and the entirety of the english language is no where to be seen.

-after a few weeks, curly would definitely find this endearing.

-i feel like since curly is so outgoing, he would be very intrigued by someone who is the complete opposite.

-curly wouldn't act much different when it comes to you, due to maintaining professionalism as his role as captain.

-he may due small acts like making a cake simply to indulge in your sweet-tooth that he somehow knew about you.

-"oh, we just had extra packets of sugar. i just thought id bake something. you like cake right?"

-cheeky motherfucker.

Intern Daisuke

-dude is so so so oblivious even though you make it perfectly clear...

-you could be making like.. making out with the guy and he'd be like,

-"yoo, we are literally besties right?"

-deadass, he prolly had no idea you liked him for weeks.

-you could be laughing extra loud at his jokes then realize ur laughing too loud, look at him while he isn't looking at you, sneak an extra sweetener packet on his bed when he isn't around,,,,

-his ass still is clueless.

-it takes either curly or swansea's help to realize that you had a massive crush on him but were just to shy to say something.

-once he realizes, he is now all over you and following you around like a lost puppy. not nonchalant at ALL.

-literally tries to pick up the polle statue to show his 'guns' but the statue moves only an inch..

-now he is hyper aware of your actions and reactions, he finds your shyness just SO CUTE WTFFF.

-compliments you to see what you would do.

-"man, have you always been this hot or is it just the sweetener talking?"

-runs away.....

-would steal sweetener packets just for you two to share :)

Nurse Anya

-i feel like she notices how different you act around her, but she just thinks its because you two are good friends.

-she never assumes anything, just her friend being friendly.

-even though you sometimes make it unintentionally obvious..

-like this one time you recommend her a book from your quarters library and her fingers lightly grazed yours reaching for it.

-oh shit. her soft hands touched yours. oh god what does a normal person do in this situation??

-"thank you for the-oh... book."

-well, they don't smile awkwardly, sweat pouring down their face and leave in a hurry with the book still in their hand.

-anya isn't stupid or completely oblivious by any means. she definitely knew from this encounter of your little crush on her.

-she is quite flattered honestly. someone so similar to her truly likes her?

-when she fully processes this information, she is very subtle with how she shows her affection back.

-during check-ups, she sometimes gives you a treat from one of her desk drawers for being a good patient.

-other times she lets you join her late at night in the lounge to just look at the pretty night time screen.

-"this makes me miss home. it's so beautiful."

-you'd look over at her and her eyes are not on the screen, far from it actually.

-her eyes are on you.

-so this is what a heart attack feels like..

Mechanic Swansea

-unpopular hot-take, swansea is actually a dilf and he often has younger men/women confess their feelings to him.

-so because of that headcanon, swansea definitely knows how you feel from the first time y'all met.

-your eyes would subconsciously peek at his open shirt revealing his chest. suspiciously, whenever he would look back, you quickly turn away shyly...

-he immediately thinks he is way to old for this shit. he just got out of a divorce and prolly never wanted to try again. especially with someone younger.

-"what is with this damn younger generation with old people.."

-he tries to avoid you even though you two are co-workers and.. work together. on the same ship.

-as weeks go by, your shyness starts to grow on this grumpy man. he... he thinks it's endearing in a sense..

-he rather likes how reserved you are, and how are aren't as loudmouthed as daisuke.

-he won't act much different to you, but according to the rest of the crew it is obvious.

-swansea leaves little sticky notes reminding you to eat or sleep because lets be honest.. you are quite neglectful, and the sticky note quotes,,

-"..the crew doesn't need you passin' out while doin' your job. so eat or i will make you."

-swansea is also much more soft-spoken with you than anyone else.

-he has never raised his voice or spoken down on you. his usual brashness and snarky remarks are now toned down (but not entirely) around you.

-"hey. i didn't say you had to leave, did i? stop puttin' words in my damn mouth and sit."

Co-captain Jimmy

-jimmy prolly doesn't even acknowledge you at first.

-you could be looking at him, thinking he doesn't know that your eyes are skimming over his face and body.

-oh but jimmy.. he does know,,, but he never shows that he does.

-he likes the attention on him. your eyes looking him over when she doesn't even know that he is soaking it up.

-im sorry but he definitely gets off to the fact that you are shy and get flustered easily.

-he loves how malleable and submissive you are due to your shyness. and he uses it to his advantage.

-he shows his affection strongly after he knows your crush.like sometimes he would purposefully follow you places and when you turn around he'd be like..

-"do you mind? you're in my way.."

-i feel like he wouldn't know how to properly express his feelings so he would be kind of unnecessarily mean and cruel.

-and after he would be mean he would be nice and extra affectionate so you would still like him.

-like you could be working on something and is critical about your work.

-"are you serious? tsk.. move, since you clearly cannot perform a basic task."

-then later he's like..

-"im glad someone on this ship is helpful, like you."

-basically, he purposefully plays with your feelings to get you to confess bc i feel like he likes when women come to him.....

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝐶𝑙𝑢𝑏

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: Your neighbor and friend, Wanda Maximoff, invites you to her book club. The book they're reading is, well, erotic. It sparks something in you, and you find yourself growing closer with your neighbor, in a surprising way.

content warnings: smut, improper use of a book, spanking, fingering, cunnilingus

word count: 6.2k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

The rose petals are soft beneath your fingertips, your mind adrift as you tend to the vibrant bushes near your door. The faint scent of lawn clippings hangs in the air, dulled slightly by the thick heat lazily wrapping around you, an occasional breeze brushing by to dry the back of your damp neck. You glance at the lemonade sitting on your front steps, your mouth watering slightly at the thought of drinking the refreshing beverage. 

You clip a slightly dead branch of your rose bush, discarding it in the small, steadily growing pile nearby. There hasn’t been a rain shower in a few weeks, so you’ve been diligent about watering your bushes, but even you can’t beat the arid heat that settles on your town. It’s all anyone can talk about; the endless heat at the height of summer causing kids and adults alike to flock to the brand-new water park in the heart of town.

Ice clinks as you finally cave, reaching over to sip the lemonade through a straw. The taste explodes in your mouth, and you let out a soft sound of relief as the sugar perks you back up. Your fingers slip slightly on the condensation steadily sweating from the cold glass, and you begin to seriously consider retreating back inside to sit in front of your fan.

“Hey, neighbor,” a friendly voice calls out, and you recognize the honeyed tone immediately. 

Your head jerks up, your cheeks flushing as you recall the dirt smeared on your knees, and you’re acutely aware of the loose strands of hair sticking to your forehead. You raise your free hand awkwardly, praying you’re not waving too enthusiastically at your neighbor. 

Wanda had been your neighbor ever since you’d moved in a few months ago, and she’d immediately taken you under her care. It was endearing, really, to have someone care about you while you adjusted to a new city. 

“Hi, Wanda,” you called out, your voice cracking slightly. You could see the older woman smile, her red hair cascading over her back as she walked around her bushes and towards you. You hide your nervousness, sucking on your straw like it is a lifeline, your pulse quickening as she draws nearer. 

Oh god, you probably smell so bad. You’ve been out in the sun for hours, sweating under the sweltering sun, your deodorant having lost its potency ten minutes into your battle with the rose bushes. You’re acutely aware of the sweat dripping down your temple, your eyebags showing since you’d decided not to use concealer this morning, not wanting to have it melt right off your face in the heat. 

“What on earth are you doing out in the heat on a day like this?” Wanda asks, smiling at you and shielding her face from the sun as she looks down at your still-kneeling form. The faint scent of vanilla drifts over to you, and you wet your lips slightly, your straw making a loud sound as you realize you’ve finished the last of your lemonade. You sense that she doesn’t want a response, her words more of a statement than an actual question, a subtle chide at your ability to make rational decisions in the summer heat. 

Helplessly, you gesture towards your rose bushes, your eyes quickly spotting the petals that are slowly wilting, standing out against the vibrant colors. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Wanda says, tilting her head as she examines your rose bushes, “I think they look beautiful. Now, why don’t you invite me inside for a cup of that delicious-looking lemonade, hm?” 

Flustered, you stand quickly, gripping your glass and muttering a quick, “Of course,” before holding the door open and ushering the woman inside. 

Wanda walks straight into your kitchen, sighing slightly at the cool breeze from your AC unit working overtime. Her green eyes find yours, crinkling at the edges as she smiles at you. Smiling back slightly, you rush to the fridge, pulling out the pitcher of lemonade you’d made and pouring a generous amount into one of your fancy glasses. 

“What is a sweet girl like you doing outside working in this heat?” Wanda asks, taking the cup from you. You can’t stop looking at the way her red-tinted lips wrap around the straw as she sips. “Shouldn’t that boy of yours be helping you?”

“Who?”

“The boy with the long hair and the flannel,” Wanda says, her tone slightly off. You recall the other weekend when you’d invited your coworker to the neighborhood barbecue. Wanda had been more touchy with you that night for some reason, her eyes looking at your coworker with light suspicion; you didn’t really mind, assuming she was looking out for you. You can tell that she’s poking around with her words, a hidden question behind them, and you’re all too happy to set the record straight for her. 

“Oh, Jared? No, he’s just a friend,” you say, hoping that your tone is casual. It sounds far too high-pitched, but Wanda relaxes slightly at your words, smiling brightly at you as her fingernails clink on the side of her glass. 

“Ah,” she mutters, raising her eyebrows slightly, “A friend.”

The silence stretches for an awkward beat before you feel the urge to explain yourself. To get rid of the crushing feeling between your ribcage as Wanda studies you, her head tilted slightly. “No, truly, he is just a friend. We met at work and now we kind of hang out outside of work. I don’t know, it’s just… friends hanging out and stuff. I don’t like boys- or, I mean, him like that.” The words spew from you like a messy word vomit, the letters and syllables all jumbled together as you try to string together a coherent sentence. 

Chuckling, Wanda reaches out, her fingers gently touching your cheek. Her fingertips are cold against your skin, and you realize that you’re flushed. You pop your straw back into your mouth, your teeth gnawing slightly on the plastic as you distract yourself. 

“I know what boys want from a pretty girl like you,” Wanda says. It feels like an intimate sort of statement, but her tone is far too bright, an air of casualness forcing its way into the sentence as you awkwardly laugh at her words. 

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that,” you say, unsure of why you’re reassuring her. “I’m not interested in Jared, like that.”

“Hmm, good,” Wanda nods as she speaks, an air of finality in her words. You assume the conversation is over, your eyes trailing over her blouse, respectfully avoiding looking near her chest, as the fabric dipped quite low. You supposed it made sense, given the heat, but the last thing you wanted to do was make your neighbor uncomfortable. 

Wanda didn’t mind. After all, she’d chosen this blouse with the low v-cut on purpose, watching you through the window while making finger sandwiches for Billy and Tommy. You’d been working so hard, your arm muscles showing as you pulled weeds and clipped your rose bush, that she couldn’t help but venture over to your lawn. After all, the boys enjoyed their cartoons on a lazy Saturday afternoon, and your muscles had looked quite striking as you worked in that sinfully thin tanktop of yours. 

“Say,” Wanda exclaims suddenly, your eyes snapping up from where they’d been lingering around the exposed skin of her stomach. “You like reading, don’t you?” 

Your eyes light up, and Wanda’s teeth gleam as she smiles brightly at you. She remembers you talking her ear off about a book you’d read, her mind wandering to the animated way your hands had moved while speaking. She’d nodded at all the right places, asking you questions occasionally, her attention focused on the way your face shifted into genuine enthusiasm as you spoke.

“I run this book club,” Wanda says, shrugging as though it was no big deal, her eyes flitting up to yours to gauge your reaction. “We meet on Friday at my house, when the boys leave for the weekend at their father’s place, if you’d be interested.” 

It’s been a while since you’ve had a consistent friend group or even just a group of people to hang out with. Wanda knows this; you’ve talked about it a few times, when you’ve had a few too many glasses of wine, your face flushed and your eyes dark and wide as you lean into her friendly touch. 

“I would love to come!” You bite your lip as you hide a wide smile, containing your obvious excitement at the idea. “What book are you reading?”

“Ah, well,” Wanda ducks her head, peeking up at you through her lashes. It’s the perfect picture of innocence. “I’m not sure if you’d be interested in this specific book.”

“Please tell me,” you beg, setting your lemonade aside as you lean closer to her. You’ve been searching for some new books, even asking Wanda for recommendations. It’s almost cruel, the way she hesitates before answering, her eyes focused solely on your reaction. 

Wanda finally tells you, watching as you immediately pull out your phone to search for the name of the book. Her eyes are sharp, gauging your reaction as you quickly skim the description. She can’t tell if you’re blushing more than usual, the book is a lesbian romance, but you don’t seem to mind as you look up and smile at her. 

“Can I borrow your book for the meeting on Friday?”

And that’s that. Wanda agrees, of course, her mind racing as she watches you smile and talk about how much you’ve been looking forward to reading books with other people, your words jumbling together in your excitement. You’re leaning closer to her as you speak, your eyes sparkling and lips moving a mile a minute. Wanda takes another sip of the sugary lemonade, glancing at your lips as she wonders if you taste just as sweet. 

God, she can’t wait until Friday. 

—

You’re nervous, your hands fiddling with the loose threads of your shirt as you walk up the pristine walkway to Wanda’s front door. God, you’ve knocked plenty of times before, but this time it feels… nervewracking.

Truly, you aren’t used to meeting new people. Most of the time, others approach you, starting conversations and inviting you into their lives. It had never been the other way around, and the mere thought of putting yourself out there made your palms sweat and your feet develop an urge to run.

Before you can give yourself a pep talk, your fingers trembling as you reach for the doorbell, the door unlocks, startling you. The first thing Wanda sees when she swings the door open is your wide eyes, her eyes softening when she takes in your tense form. She can tell you’re a few wrong words away from bolting back to your house with a poorly mumbled excuse. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I didn't mean to startle you,” she says, and suddenly her hands are all over you, distracting you from the nervousness building steadily within you. Wanda’s hands pull you inside, gently squeezing your arms before wrapping slightly around your waist, her touch insistent as heat spreads through your body wherever her fingers make contact. She can feel you relaxing slightly, your expression opening up as she talks your ear off, telling you that their book club is quite small, but you’ll help grow their numbers as she ushers you into the living room.

“Is that a rabbit?” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, your face going slightly red as your eyes widen. There’s a white rabbit munching on some cucumbers, its nose twitching and ears swiveling towards you as you shuffle in your socks on the carpet. Your eyes catch the long fingers gently stroking its fur, moving up to land on the face of a striking brunette. 

“This is Señor Scratchy,” the woman says, her blue eyes glinting slightly as she looks you up and down. “You must be Wanda’s new pe-”

“Agatha,” Wanda interrupts, smiling tightly for a moment before she glances at you. “Be nice to our newest member.” 

Smirking, Agatha just wiggles her fingers at you, her eyes crinkling at the corners. You wonder what she was going to say that caused Wanda to speak so abruptly, but she turns her head before you can ask. Following her eyeline, you smile awkwardly at the woman who enters through the doorway, her hands full as she balances four mugs on a tray. 

“Oh good, coffee,” Wanda says, ushering you onto the couch and slipping her copy of this week's book into your hands. 

A steaming mug is placed before you, Wanda pouring a bit of milk and dropping three sugar cubes into your coffee, just the way you like it. You would blush at the attentiveness, but you’re too focused on the way the woman with the tray settles down next to Agatha, her hands caressing her shoulders for a moment. Agatha’s blue eyes are locked on you as she pulls the other woman’s legs onto her lap. 

“Nice to meet you, fresh meat,” the woman says, her smile sharp. She does not offer her name. 

Agatha cackles slightly, patting the woman’s legs as she takes in your wide-eyed look. “Rio, my love, you’ve scared Wanda’s… friend.”

They’re testing you, that much is obvious. Wanda’s hand is hovering near her mug, her eyes cutting towards the women on the couch opposite from you. Agatha is peering at you from under her lashes, her hands still massaging Rio’s legs, the rabbit having jumped to the floor the moment the other woman entered the room. You can hear him munching in the silence. 

Rio, well, she stares at you openly, her eyes a bit too wide. 

“Well,” you say, clearing your throat as you take a sip of your coffee to give your hands something to do. “It’s very nice to meet you, Agatha and Rio.” You nod at each of them as you say their name. Hopefully, they don’t hear your voice wavering. “This seems like a fun group for a book club.”

“Oooh, I like her,” Rio murmurs, smiling widely at you. It sends goosebumps crawling down the back of your neck, but you bravely smile back, feeling your lips tremble.

Wanda claps her hands once, letting out a breath of air as she brings attention back to the topic at hand. “We’ve started the book, but we’re only a few chapters in so far. Agatha, why don’t you catch her up?”

Suffice to say, Agatha is excellent at summarizing. You understand the first few chapters well enough, and you blush when she mentions the hot older lesbian the main character is pining over, winking at Rio. You begin to wonder about the nature of their relationship, but decide that it’s none of your business. 

“I’m looking forward to the next few chapters,” Rio says offhandedly. “I’ve heard they get steamy, just the way I like my books.” 

“Naughty girl,” Agatha murmurs, then most of your previous questions are cleared up as Rio grabs the back of her neck and kisses the woman solidly. 

You can feel Wanda looking at you from the corner of your eye, and you hope she doesn’t take your awkward fidgeting the wrong way. After all, it’s not like you could easily explain the warm feeling spreading through your body at the sight of them kissing, your nose hyper-aware of Wanda’s warm vanilla perfume wafting over to you. 

“So, do they do this often?” You ask, smiling slightly and injecting sarcasm into your tone as you bravely turn to face Wanda. She looks slightly relieved, an easy smile curling her lips at the corners as you both hear a scoff from the other couch. 

“Got a problem with it, sweetheart?” Agatha drawls, her blue eyes piercing. Rio is wrapped around her, reminding you of a large snake coiling around their prey, and you shake your head. 

“Of course not, I’m just questioning if you actually talk about the book during these meetings, or if you just make out. That can’t be productive, and I truly do like talking about books…”

Wanda laughs beside you, one of her hands landing on your knee as she does so. You don’t mind, needing the extra support as your bravery fades slightly once you’ve said your piece. Agatha is chuckling and when you risk looking at Rio’s face, she’s smirking slightly at you.

“I bet you’d like that,” Rio mutters, falling silent when Agatha shoots her a stern look. 

“Don’t start, besides, she’s right. This is a book club, after all,” Agatha nods at you, picking up her book. “So, should we dive deeper into the chapters then? I’d like to discuss the hints they’re dropping about the more kinky aspects that are to come.”

Oh god, you don’t think your blush will go away for the rest of the club meeting. Wanda’s hand remains on your knee, and you don’t mind when it slowly moves up your thigh. Is it the coffee making you jittery, or something else? You don’t know, but your heart is racing and your face feels practically aflame with every word that Agatha and Rio speak. 

It’s the best book club you’ve ever attended.

—

“So,” Wanda says, trailing off. Her fingers run along the edges of the book, and you watch them for a moment before meeting her eyes. 

Agatha and Rio have already left with their hands hot around each other's waists, a sight you’ve grown accustomed to seeing. It’s been a few weeks, your cheeks still reddening every time someone makes a joke about the smut in the book, but you’ve grown used to the comments and the way Wanda’s hand feels on your thigh. 

At first, you were worried about the implications of her actions. But, Agatha and Rio never commented on it or even looked twice at you and Wanda, their eyes were only made for each other. You’d grown comfortable with the touch, even leaning up against your neighbor at times when the discussion became passionate. Occasionally, your hand would brush against hers, your chin hovering near her shoulder as you read the passages. 

Each touch felt charged, and you were glad you could explain the blush away by gesturing to the book. 

“Yeah,” you say, your head ducking slightly as the silence stretches on. “So.”

“Today was interesting,” Wanda smiles, her cheeks slightly pink as her fingers spread the pages of her book. She’s referencing the smut, of course. Agatha had taken great delight in teasing you, asking you which scene was your favorite, or if you’d related strongly with one of the kinks introduced. 

Forcing a chuckle, you nod. In all honesty, you’d rather not let Wanda know that you’d pictured yourself as the main character while reading the book before the meeting. Your fingers had rubbed furiously at your throbbing clit under the sheets as you read the characters making out, your thighs tightening when the older woman in the book whispered degrading things in the main character’s ear. 

“I-” You begin, ducking your head and smiling. “I didn’t mind reading it but… actually discussing it?” 

“What?” Wanda asks, her voice teasing. There’s a forced sort of lightness to her tone, her eyes sharp as she looks at you. “I thought it was adorable… how flustered you get.”

A chuckle escapes you, awkwardness flooding you as you think about the kinky acts the group had discussed. Rio had been bored, claiming she wanted more out of a self-proclaimed kinky book, but Agatha had shushed her as Wanda launched into an analysis of each character’s psyche. 

You loved it when Wanda talked. She always had the best insights, her words well crafted. She was smart, everything she said was well thought out, and you often found yourself nodding along. 

“I’m glad you think so,” you say, the words feeling thick around your tongue. Your heart is beating quickly, and you take a deep breath as you look back down at your fingers, nervously twisting together. 

“Would you like to read the next chapter together?” Wanda asks, her tone light. One of her hands reaches out, resting gently on your knee. “I’m looking forward to this one.”

“Isn’t this chapter the one Rio said was really… you know,” you whisper, your knee tensing under Wanda’s touch. 

“What?”

“The really dirty chapter,” you mumble, your cheeks aflame as you peer up at Wanda through your lashes. She’s smiling gently at you, her fingers still splayed out on the pages. 

There’s something in her eyes that you can’t quite decipher. The hand on your knee tightens for a moment, before sliding up further as Wanda leans in. You barely hear her words, focused on how soft her hair looks and awkwardly trying not to glance at her lips as her vanilla perfume wafts under your nose. God, she smells so nice and her touch is so firm and warm and-

“I want to see your reactions when we read it,” Wanda murmurs, her lips grazing your cheek as she leans closer to whisper in your ear. “That blush of yours is just too adorable to resist.”

You force your lungs to breathe, your knuckles white from how hard you’re gripping the couch cushion. Wanda pulls back, smiling sweetly at you and patting the spot next to her. “Come, darling. Let’s read the next chapter together.”

Mindlessly, you nod as you move to sit next to her. You try to leave some space, your mind racing while also being somewhat blank at the same time. Wanda simply moves closer until her thigh is pressed against yours, her hand firmly on your thigh as she begins to read out loud in that perfect, low voice of hers.

It takes everything in you not to squirm, your bottom lip sore from how hard you’re biting it. Wanda doesn’t seem to notice, her voice calm as she reads the scene. Her hand is slowly inching up your thigh, and you feel your heart rate increasing at the thought of her feeling the heat that is surely emanating from the apex of your thighs. 

“The cane whistles through the air, hitting me solidly. My body jerks forward, pain erupting on my bruised ass, but Eliza’s hand grips my hair, her voice hissing that I should be still. I listen, my brain screaming at me to comply while my body is brought closer to an orgasm, the pain turning into pleasure with each strike of the cane.”

You rest your chin on Wanda’s shoulder, your attention split between her hand squeezing your thigh and the scene she’s reading. Ignoring the wetness between your thighs, you pray that you don’t leak through your pants.

“I begin to crave the pain,” Wanda’s voice is steady as she reads, with only a slight breathiness to her tone. “I needed to submit, to let Eliza control every aspect of my pain, and with it, my pleasure.”

“I’ve always wondered how that feels,” you interrupt, your mind still thinking about the cane. You wondered if it really could cause pleasure. 

Wanda pauses, her fingers squeezing your thigh for a moment before she turns toward you, lowering the book slightly. “How… what feels?”

“Oh,” you blush, clearing your throat. “The impact play. I just assume that a cane would hurt. I’ve never- well. You know.”

There’s a lingering silence, a sort of tension in the air as Wanda considers your words. She seems to be choosing her next words carefully, her fingers gripping your thigh as she sets the book down. 

“Would you like to try?”

Fuck.

Wanda’s eyes are on you, and you can feel them as you stare at the book for a few moments. Working up your courage, you glance up, blinking at how dilated her pupils are, her green irises barely noticeable. 

“We- I… where would we get a cane?” You ask, the words feeling a bit thick in your mouth. 

Chuckling, Wanda closes the book fully and reaches up to cup your cheek. “Oh, my sweet girl, we don’t need a cane for impact play, anything will do.”

“Oh, right,” you say, feeling stupid. Your brain is full of fuzz, your thoughts muffled slightly. The only thing you can think about is the scene from the book, Wanda’s hand on your thigh moving up further and further until it’s gliding over your hips and pressing on your upper back. 

You gasp slightly as Wanda bends you over her lap, her hand gentle but firm between your shoulder blades. You willingly follow her lead, your chest heaving slightly as you try to calm your racing heartbeat, resisting the urge to squirm when you feel how wet you are, the change in position thrilling.

“Is this alright?” Wanda asks, her voice warm. Her hand is gently rubbing your back, the other playing with the hair on top of your head, petting you somewhat. You don’t mind. 

“Yes, I just…” you bite your lip. Wanda’s hand pauses, and you quickly speak, your chest tight and full of nerves. “You’re a really good friend and my neighbor and I don’t want to mess anything up or-”

Wanda‘s hand moves from the top of your head to cover your mouth, and you hear a shushing sound. Her other hand is slowly moving down your back, warmth spreading through your backside as she moves to caress your ass, your back arching into the touch. “Don’t worry about that sweetheart, don’t you want this?”

You stutter, nodding against her hand as your words are muffled. 

“Good, because I want this too,” Wanda murmurs, and you feel a smile forming on your lips as your heart soars. She wants this too? You’ve felt so much guilt over the past few weeks, blushing when you catch her gaze and then going home to read the book and pretend you’re not imagining Wanda as the dominatrix while you read.

“Say it,” Wanda commands, her voice different. Her hand finally moves away from your lips, returning to your upper back, keeping you in place. She sounds strict, and you squirm at the words. 

“I want this,” you whisper. 

“Louder.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, grinding your hips into her thighs before you freeze, your eyes wide.

Wanda chuckles lowly. “You must really want this if you’re chasing your pleasure while bent over my lap. Say it, darling. I need to hear the words before I continue.”

You can’t speak, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you listen to her. It’s already too much, your heart is overjoyed and relieved at the same time. Your thighs are slightly slick, your arousal leaking through your underwear and smearing over your sensitive skin. You pray that Wanda can't smell it. 

“I want this.” A part of you hopes that your voice is strong, your conviction shining through your evident arousal. Instead, the words are shaky, your voice trembling with need. 

“Good girl.”

Before you can react to the praise, a moan slipping past your lips, the air behind you changes. The book hits your ass, the solid hardcover sending an ache of pain directly to your throbbing pussy. 

Your body jolts forward, your thoughts quieting in an instant. Wanda brings the book down again and again, hitting the backs of your thighs gently before increasing her force as she watches your ass jiggle from the impact. You’re a squirming, whining mess on her lap, your upper body restrained by her hand between your shoulder blades, the couch leaving indents in your cheek as you arch your back further into her touch.

It’s everything Wanda had imagined. She wants more. She wants you to beg her, to present yourself to her, to… to take everything she gives you without complaint. Your submission, your pleasure, your pain. She wants it all.

“Look at me,” Wanda says, her voice low as she tugs on your hair. 

Gasping, you feel pain radiating into your skull, her fingers unrelenting as she wrenches your head back. You let out a small whimper as you meet her gaze, and she loosens her hold slightly, her fingers scratching your head in an almost apology. 

“What do you want?” Wanda asks, her voice soft. She drops the book behind you, the hardcover landing with a thud. Your ass is on fire, and she begins to knead her hand into it, squeezing as you whine. 

“Um,” you pant out, arching your back and pressing your ass further into her hand. You feel shame coursing through you in tandem with your burning arousal. The humiliation only sends your mind further into the vanilla-tinged fuzziness you’ve slowly been sinking into. “I want you to… fuck. Um, I want you-”

“Speak up.”

Wanda’s voice is hard, and her hand comes down on your ass harshly. Your body jolts forward at the unexpected impact, and you suppress a moan. You weren’t used to this, the image of Wanda as your nice, friendly neighbor clashing with this new, dominant persona of hers. It’s not that you didn’t like it, but your pussy was uncomfortably wet, and the ache between your thighs could only be soothed by one thing. Wanda.

“I need you, Wanda, please make me feel good,” you say, the words spewing from you as you grind your hips down against her thighs. It sounds more like a whine, your voice high-pitched as you plead, but it satisfies Wanda. 

“Well,” Wanda is smiling as she releases your head, your chin hitting the couch as you suck in deep breaths. “Since you asked so politely…”

Her hands both move to your waistband, one curling under your stomach to undo the button and pull your zipper down while the other drags the fabric down your legs. She doesn’t bother to pull them fully off you, bunching them halfway down your calves. 

Your skin burns where she touches you, your arousal thick in the air as her fingers roughly cup you. “Oh sweetheart, you needed this, didn’t you?”

Nodding, you bury your face in your arms, bucking back against her hand in search of some sort of relief. You’ve never felt this sort of burning need before, every fiber of your being focused on the way she feels against you. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you,” Wanda murmurs, your brain processing the words as she peels the damp fabric of your panties down your thighs. 

Holy fuck, you can feel the cool air against your throbbing center. Wanda’s fingers massage the area around your glistening sex, teasing you even while her chest heaves. She sucks in a few deep breaths, her fingers inching closer to your throbbing clit.

“You sound so pretty,” Wanda murmurs, seemingly lost in a sort of trance as she watches her fingers collect your arousal. You’re whining beneath her, your hips squirming and bucking into her touch, and she feels her head spin with the rush of power she feels. This is everything she wanted from the moment she saw you, and now, she’s finally taking what’s hers. 

When her fingers finally slide into you, it feels like absolute heaven. They curl perfectly, hitting your most sensitive spot as you moan into the couch cushion. Your clit throbs needily as Wanda slowly pumps her fingers deeper, your arousal coating her fingers. 

“I have an idea,” Wanda says, her words slightly jarring. 

“Mmmphhh,” you manage, forcing your brain to focus on her words while her fingers curl deep inside you. It’s humiliating to feel your pleasure rising as she fucks you, her fingers working you up while she speaks in a casual, conversational tone. 

“We’re going to read every chapter together from now on,” Wanda begins, smiling as she watches your body. Your hips are bucking against her, your back arched. “And I’m going to demonstrate everything that happens, just so you’re able to truly understand the text.”

Wanda bends down, her lips against your ear as she speaks. “That means, darling, if Eliza fucks our main character until she passes out, I’ll be fucking you until you pass out. Understand?”

You wish you could explain the sound that tore from your lips at her words. It was something between a moan and an animalistic growl, but either way, Wanda moaned in response as she moved her fingers faster. 

It was rough, her fingers pulling all the way out before slamming back into you. This side of Wanda is nothing you’ve ever seen before, and it makes you wetter than you’ve ever been. The image of your perfect neighbor and her warm smiles clashes with the harsh, unforgiving pace Wanda sets as she fucks you.

“Please,” you gasp out finally finding your voice as your fingers scrabble for purchase on the couch. You need leverage, your body limp and pliable over Wanda’s lap as she manipulates your pleasure to her satisfaction.

“Not yet,” Wanda mutters, her other hand grasping the back of your neck tightly. Before you can properly understand what’s happening, her fingers pull out roughly as she tightens her hold on the back of your neck, pulling you backward.

Your head hits the arm of the couch, Wanda’s frame looking over you before she adjusts your body, nudging your legs open with her shoulders and settling between your legs. It’s overwhelming, your hands finding purchase on her head and tangling with her hair as she sucks hickeys around your hips. 

One of Wanda’s hands creeps up your stomach, sliding under your shirt and bra to grasp your breast tightly, her fingers brushing over your hard nipple. 

That is the moment that you lose all sense of dignity. 

“Fuck me, Wanda,” you plead, gripping her hair tightly as she moans. Her lips are near your belly button, her green eyes dark as she looks up at your wanton expression. Her fingers cruelly twist your nipple, your hips jerking up against her at the action.

“A masochist, hm?” Wanda says, her voice teasing as you nod frantically. “Perfect. You’re absolutely perfect, darling.”

Slowly, those sinfully full lips kiss down your stomach, ghosting over your clit before Wanda drags her tongue through your folds. She moans at the taste of your arousal, her chin instantly soaked. 

Your hips buck up frantically, your heartbeat erratic as you chase your pleasure. You need her tongue, her fingers, anything. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” Wanda murmurs, and you believe her. After all, she’s been taking care of you this entire time, with her homemade meals and soft smiles. You remember all of the times she invited you over to play with the twins, and her smile when you arrived at the first book club meeting. Wanda had always taken care of you, and this was no expectation. 

Wanda isn’t gentle, her fingers gripping your hips tightly as she pins you down. You’re too far gone to control your body, your hips bucking and thrashing under her grip as she eats you out with fervor, Your poor little clit throbs under her tongue, whines and moans streaming from your lips when she finally wraps her lips around it and sucks. 

“Oh, Wanda,” you plead, pressing her head further against you before her hand shoots out to grab your wrists, pinning them against your stomach. “Please, I need you. I’ve wanted this for so long, just… please make me cum. Oh, I’ll do anything. Just make me yours.”

Well, Wanda can’t say no to that request. 

“That’s right, honey,” she coos, licking your clit as you jolt beneath her. “You’re mine. You have been ever since I first laid eyes on you. Say it... Say it and I’ll let you cum all over my tongue. Don’t you want that?”

Fuck yes, you want that. 

“I’m yours.”

The orgasm that washes over you is more intense than anything you’ve ever experienced. Every sensation is heightened, Wanda’s perfume permeating your senses as her soft hair tickles your inner thighs, her fingers bruising your hips as her tongue and lips stimulate your most sensitive parts. 

She’s relentless, coaxing your pleasure out with every swipe of her tongue, her moans sending vibrations through your oversensitive core. Her hand squeezes your breast, your nipple trapped helplessly between her fingers as you jerk and thrash beneath her. 

A second, smaller orgasm slowly crests, pleasure washing over you as you begin to feel your muscles ache. Your hands weakly push against Wanda’s head, her tongue sliding through your folds one last time before she looks up at you, your clit throbbing with pleasure from your orgasms.

“Wow, I-” you begin, breathless as you relax into the couch cushions, your body feeling weightless. 

Chuckling, Wanda sits up, wiping her chin and lips with the back of her hand. She pulls you up with her, your body molding against hers as you lean into her side, your head resting against her shoulder. 

The scent of your arousal is thick in the air, your heavy breathing filling the silence as you recover. Wanda lets out a satisfied hum, her hand once again making its way to your bare thigh, her fingers squeezing. This time, the action is comforting and possessive.

“Perfect,” Wanda murmurs, and you nod your head. 

“Yes,” you say, smiling at her. “You are.” 

Wanda picks up the book from earlier, smoothing out the slightly crumpled page, her face flushed and green eyes bright as she rakes her gaze across your spent body. Her pupils dilate again, your clit throbbing at the look in her eyes. 

“We’re not done with the chapter yet, darling.”

---

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff @esposadejoyhuerta @captivepotato @justarandomreaderxoxo @godhatesgoodgirls @snowdrop1026 @maximoffmorale @noturlondonboy @wandaspuppy @xenaizogie @imjustvibingsworld @tobiaslut @subby-lesbian @xenaizogie @sxlfishbrokenheart @huggingkoalas @deliriosinrose @godhatesgoodgirls @yeetus-thyself @wizardofstories @wandastan-2 @undercoversoftie @the-ox-fan20

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ teddy’s notes: gahh loser girlies unite!! part two of my bakugou x loser reader headcanons <33 no warnings, just stupid fluff, enjoy!!

bakugou, whose heart is ready to burst out of his chest whenever he sees the way your eyes light up the sight of him. “hey, loser” he’d mutter from behind you to get your attention or send you a subtle nod from across the room, and there you are: your naturally pouty lips splitting into a blinding smile across your pretty face and your eyes glimmering with joy as you abandon whatever you were doing to run up to him. you don’t attempt to hug him or anything though, not in public at least, a little wary of making him uncomfortable, but if katsuki is the one offering a hug, his expression still one of mild, faux annoyance, you immediately burrow your face into his chest and sigh happily, and bakugou wonders if he’ll ever get tired of feeling so wanted.

bakugou, who uses the nickname “loser” fully as a term of endearment without even realising it, unquestioning of the fact that you aren’t bothered by that. he also likes to call you a “crybaby”because that’s what you are, clicking his tongue at you whenever you bite your bottom lip roughly — a failed attempt to calm yourself down. however, if anyone dares to call you any of those or even bully? they’re dead: face to face with katsuki’s wrath as his palms crackle with explosions going off and he lunges forward.

bakugou, who is lucky to have you as his biggest supporter. your big eyes never leave his figure whenever there is any competition or just a little quarrel, shouting a determined and very out of character “yeah!” after bakugou threatens to ‘paint the wall’ with someone. everyone’s head turns to you in confusion, to which you just shrug and cower into yourself, mumbling something along the lines of “what? he’s my boyfriend :(”. katsuki’s smirk widens and he sends you a wink, enjoying the sight of you being a sputtering mess before he moves on.

bakugou, who wonders how you can be so stupid sometimes, his hand landing on the back of your head sharply whenever something utterly ridiculous comes out of your mouth. doesn’t even have any desire to scream at you, just mumbling curses in disappointment which makes you giggle, small hand covering your mouth to hide the sounds from him, but as soon as his head snaps to look at you you turn away to the opposite side. “tch, idiot” “huh? katsuki, don’t leave!”.

bakugou, who thinks your lips are very kissable. whatever you do to them always makes them look so pretty, so attractive with how the gloss makes them plumper and he catches himself staring at them a bit too long, snapping his head away with a snarl when you manage to catch him too. he imagines kissing you a lot more than he should, daydreaming about it at random times and wondering if the heat creeping up into his cheeks is visible, but you don’t seem to notice it. it’s another story when you are the one staring at him and he is an attentive little shit so of course he sees and teases you about it.

+ bonus!

and if you’re feeling courageous and get back at him, somehow, i can only see this meme;

“you should be addicted to shutting the fuck up.” he growls at you, leaning in dangerously close, but you seem careless, a cheeky grin spread on your lips as you laugh,

“hah! you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

a dangerous smirk splits across his face, “so what if i do?”

you try to run away, but the key word is ‘try’.

[cloudwisp]

✮ sylus x fem!reader

contents: fluff and sweetness. pre-relationship. more than friends but less than lovers trope. many shared little moments with sylus that make it special 🤍

⭒ It becomes second nature for Sylus to carry your purse on his shoulder when you both have an outing and he follows you around like an obedient puppy as you shop from one clothing rack to another. Sometimes he gets distracted on his phone whilst glancing up at you every now and then that he doesn’t realize you both are in the men’s section. A rather adorable pondering expression on your face as you hold a shirt up to his chest. “I think this would suit you nicely.” No second opinion is needed and he collects the item from you for purchasing because if you say so then he believes it.

⭒ When Sylus somehow finds himself a passenger because maybe you wanted to test drive his car that easily has 1600hp—he’s thoroughly amused as you feel out the dynamics of the vehicle. More so when you accidentally step on the brakes a little too hard, as you are unfamiliar with the sensitivity of the pedals. In a show of panic, you throw your arm across his chest to brace for the sudden jolt which earns you a teasing remark followed by a playful quip back at him. However, there’s a subtle smile on his lips as you continue down the road because your first instinct is to save him.

⭒ You and Sylus have a casual routine with Friday nights being reserved for the both of you. When you’d normally grab takeout during the busy working week, you opt for a simple home-cooked meal to unwind and enjoy a leisurely evening. Before you can even register the force of habit, you’re pulling out two plates to set the table and like clockwork Sylus appears at your apartment door. A little bag of your favorite pastries to finish off the meal with something sweet because he learned you couldn’t go without it. Funny how he knows these things about you, and how you knew to grab his favorite cheese pancakes on the way home for appetizers.

⭒ The crow twins deliver you something on behalf of Sylus and he receives a little treat from you every other time this happens. You’d pack a small box of savory/sweet baked goods that you made earlier in the day to return his thoughtful gesture. However, at your words Luke and Kieran assumed a surprise wouldn’t be missed if their boss doesn’t know about it. Fast forward to those two apologetic boys surrounded by a swirling red and kneeling before their boss under his menacing stare because those cream puffs should've been handed to him directly. After hearing about this, you made certain to pack enough for the three of them next time.

⭒ Napping at someone else’s home other than your own feels like uncharted territory because sleeping anywhere but your warm and familiar bed places you in a vulnerable position. Even though Sylus has given you permission to make yourself comfortable at his estate several times, the safest place you feel is beside him with your head lulling against his shoulder when you’re running on a few hours of sleep. He’s the picture of comfort with a fleeting kiss to your head and draping his coat over you, and he may even find his cheek pressed against you to catch some shut-eye himself.

⭒ There’s something to be said about Sylus being led by you—he secretly loves surrendering himself to your every whim and that includes you tugging him by the hand and steering him toward the direction of cute ducklings paddle their way into the waters with a splash. Your elated reaction and innocent sparkle is all very endearing to him and he takes a moment to savor it before shifting his gaze to the small animals. “Now, aren’t you glad we decided to have this stroll after all?” You offer him your response and his heart warms when he realizes that you still haven’t let go of his hand.

[chubby-bun-bun]

anything for you, darling

If only you knew the atrocities he would commit, all in the name of his devotion to you.

tags: sylus x reader, hurt/comfort

You’re lying on your side, head nestled on his lap. Above you, you faintly hear him humming—a low, gravelly tune, his steady hand gently carding through your hair. The melody is slightly discordant, but the rich timbre of his voice makes you close your eyes, leaning subconsciously into his touch.

The party downstairs is in full swing, but you don’t feel like joining in on the fun. Odd, considering how much you’d looked forward to this event—a celebration of his recent acquisition of a coveted arms manufacturing company.

But when you went to the vanity he’d built for you for a final once-over, your excitement faltered. The dress, while breathtaking and clearly crafted with care and intention, doesn’t accentuate the places you’d hoped it would. It must be your body, you think. It just doesn’t do the dress justice.

And so, you retreated to hide away in his room.

It wasn’t long before he found you, though.

He didn’t ask why you were there. Without a word, he made his way to the bed, propped himself against the headboard, and pulled you to him.

Which brings you to this moment, lying on his lap, lulled by his crooked yet endearing lullaby as his fingers thread through your hair.

“The dress is lovely,” you murmur. “Thank you for having it made for me.”

“It looks especially lovely on you—everything does,” he replies, sincere, pulling a small, rueful smile from you.

“You don’t have to compliment me all the time, Sy,” you say, chuckling.

The hand in your hair stills. “I mean every word of praise I throw your way.”

You pat his knee gently. “I know. I just don’t want it to feel like a chore for you, is all.”

A firm but tender grip on your jaw draws your gaze up to meet his. His garnet eyes burn with intensity, pinning you in place.

“Did someone say something tonight?” he asks, tone low. The subtle threat in his inquiry sends a chill down your spine.

“No!” you stammer, a hand darting out to press against his chest. “No one said anything. I’m just…my mind’s just all over the place.”

His eyes narrow, and a thumb brushes over the corner of your mouth. “If anyone dares to say anything to you, you tell me. Do you understand?”

“Yes!” you squeak, face now thoroughly warm.

He relaxes, releasing you before resuming his ministrations in your hair.

You take a few moments to calm your racing pulse. “You should stop being so scary,” you mutter, poking at the buttons of his tailored suit.

“I’m afraid being scary comes with this line of work.”

“It sounded like you’d kill the hypothetical person who said something mean to me.”

“Sweetie, I’d burn the world for you.”

Your retort dies in your throat.

His eyes are closed again, and he’s resumed his humming. You want to call him out on his joke, but deep down, you know he means it.

“Sylus?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

You feel a gentle pat on your forehead.

“Anytime, kitten.”

other works

[megumismyhusband]

megumi sat at his desk, his pen paused over a stack of paperwork. he stared blankly at the page, his thoughts somewhere else entirely. absentmindedly, he reached for his wedding ring, a habit of his whenever he was deep in thought. he would spin it on his finger, the subtle weight grounding him, reminding him of home.

but today, his finger was bare.

his heart dropped as the realization hit him. his ring. he’d forgotten it.

megumi’s mind raced, replaying his morning routine. he’d set it on the nightstand before his shower—he always did—but in his rush to leave, he must have forgotten to put it back on. the guilt hit him instantly, a dull ache settling in his chest.

how could he forget something so important?

the rest of his day passed in a blur of half-hearted focus. every time he looked at his hand, the absence of the ring mocked him. by the time he returned home, he’d already planned multiple ways to apologize.

as he stepped into the house, he found her in the living room, stretched out on the couch with a book in her hands. she looked up, her face lighting up with a smile that, despite his self-imposed guilt, managed to ease some of his tension.

“you’re home,” she greeted warmly, setting the book down.

“y/n,” he started, his tone heavy with regret. “I… I forgot my ring today.” he held up his left hand, his finger still bare. “I didn’t realize until I was already at work. I’m sorry. I—”

y/n tilted her head, confused, and then a small laugh bubbled from her lips. “that’s it? megumi, it’s fine. I noticed it on the nightstand this morning. I figured you’d just forgotten.”

“but—”

“no buts,” she interrupted, her voice gentle. “It’s okay. really.”

megumi wasn’t convinced. his brows knit together as he straightened. “I’ll make it up to you,” he said firmly, heading toward the kitchen before she could protest.

y/n tried to stop him, but he was already pulling out ingredients, his focus locked in on the task. she shook her head, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watched him work.

it was impossible not to find his stubborn guilt endearing.

when dinner was ready, they sat down together, and y/n couldn’t help but tease him as he nervously glanced her way after every bite.

“It’s all good, gumi,” she said with a grin. “quit worrying so much.”

later, they curled up on the couch under a cozy blanket, a movie playing softly in the background. megumi’s arm was draped around her shoulders, his fingers brushing over her arm in quiet affection.

“I’m really sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

y/n turned to him, her expression equal parts fond and exasperated. “you’ve apologized enough. you didn’t forget me, gumi. You forgot a ring. It’s okay.”

he sighed, leaning his head against hers. “I’ll never forget it again.”

she laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “you’re impossible.”

“I love you,” he murmurs. “more than anything in the world.”

[marvelsswansong]

melting snow

summary: the subtle, obvious, sweet, and at times - dangerous - ways Coriolanus shows his love for you.

tags: coriolanus snow x fem!reader, possessive and lovesick!Snow, mostly fluff with light allusions to smut, significantly off-canon from movie (no lucy gray and no sejanus betrayal), CW possessive/dark behavior, graphic descriptions of murder, violence (it's only the last bit of this fic that's quite dark/violent, so feel free to read up until then. Please take care of yourself!!!)

☆ word count: 4.6K+ words ☆

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

one: subtle praise

At the beginning, he would mask his true feelings and physical urges towards you with a tight lipped grin and a reserved compliment. Something that acknowledges something you've done objectively well, with a genuine softness that didn't apply to any of his other classmates, but seemingly delivered in a nonchalant matter to feign indifference.

"Great dodge." he'd say to you, both of your chests heaving from adrenaline during fencing class. You'd nod gently, a shy "thank you" leaving your lips.

But when Clemensia wins the next round against him, Coriolanus doesn't go above simply shake her left hand in courtesy before leaving the arena briskly.

"Well played." he'd joke, when it was revealed during the final student appraisal that you'd beaten Coriolanus' marks by a few points. Despite Archane and Felix throwing subtle jabs at his way for "losing" the star student title, you'd just shrug off the compliment profusely, praising him endlessly.

"A mere fluke, really. You're the brilliant student. I reckon I just study hard and get lucky." you'd reply, straightening the cuffs of your jacket nervously. The blonde always found it so endearing how bad you were at taking compliments.

So different from the rest of the scum in Capitol, he thought.

Eventually, he'd start to turn his verbal compliments towards things unrelated to your capabilities and work. And more towards things that were of a personal nature, like your looks and dress.

"Your hair looks very nice today." he comments one afternoon late after school, his shoulders brushing against yours as you both await your rides home. Your hands fly up to your hair, to the small crown of daisies adorning your head, as if you've almost forgotten what you were wearing.

"You think so?" you shyly ask, looking up at him nervously. "I wouldn't have worn it to the academy if we hadn't been called down on immediate notice. It's just that the family I babysit for on the weekends, their daughter just turned six and... well, she was very insistent on making me a flower crown."

He finds your embarrassment awfully cute.

"But I swear, when Dr Gaul turned to look at me today, I thought she was going to kill me."

Coriolanus only rolls his eyes playfully at that, knocking his shoulders against yours.

"And what would she know about first rate fashion? You look amazing."

It's the nicest compliment you've gotten over a silly crown of flowers, your heart warming and your breath stuttering at his words. It's what motivates you to lightly squeeze his right arm before you get into the car, your touch lingering in his mind long after you depart.

A month later, Coriolanus runs into you at the farmer's market on a Sunday. His instructions by Tigris to "buy some bread and oranges for tomorrow" are almost forgotten in one fell swoop when he sees you. Free from your usual academic attire, you're wearing a flowy lilac dress which sits right below your knees, the silky fabric glowing in the yellow sunlight.

"This color really suits you." he decides to whisper in your ear after discreetly sliding into the space next to you, the action so sudden that it causes you to jump. Your shoulders soften when you recognize his striking blue irises, and then you pout, punching him right in the chest.

"You scared me, Snow." you jokingly scold him. "And where are your manners? You should always introduce yourself first to a lady."

He pretends to be wounded by that, hand on heart whilst leaning backwards.

"My deepest apologies. Would this help?" he asks, effortlessly pulling a white rose from his back pocket. He revels in how your gaze lightens up in awe and amusement at the gesture.

"Perhaps so." you reply back, fingertips brushing against his.

The blonde takes it as a sign to slide it behind your ear, the memory of your etheral form with his flower tucked behind your right ear etched into his mind before you're called away by your friends.

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

two: soft touches

Once he's sure that his feelings are reciprocated, Coriolanus would start to step the line over into something more serious. He's not willing to open up immediately nor is he necessarily a man of romantic prose. A large part of him is scared, even, of the way you make him feel.

After all, what is love if not vulnerability?

And how he could be vulnerable with you, a woman so far out of his league, widely adored and your family amongst the wealthiest in Panem?

So it would start off when the class seating arrangements are changed and you're seated next to Coriolanus for the remainder of the year.

He'd start to purposefully spread his legs a little bit wider than usual, his knees always brushing against yours.

He'd take every chance he could to lean over to explain something to you, his face a few inches away from yours, if you ever seemed stuck on a question.

He'd open the classroom door for you in the mornings and offer to carry your heavy textbooks back to your family's car after school, insisting that it was because he wouldn't want you to trip on your heels. And if you'd ever insist on carrying the books on your own, he'd keep a gentle hand on your upper back to keep you upright "in balance."

Once, whilst presenting a speech at your father's fundraising dinner that you'd stayed up all night preparing for, you accidentally lose track of your speech. You stumble on your words, voice cracking in panic as you start to scan the page of thick text, all of which suddenly seem jumbled up and nonsensical.

Sensing distress, Coriolanus' hand quickly moves under the table to squeeze your left hand (hanging by your side) in a reassuring manner.

It's only then, somehow, that you find yourself able to re-focus on the printed text and continue your speech. Afterwards, you squeeze his hand back and whisper your gratitude.

"I owe you, Coriolanus."

Another time, it's a formal ball being hosted by the academy to mark the holiday season. After a few drinks, you're tipsy and manage to drag your friends up towards the balcony, despite it snowing outside and being below zero degrees.

Cautiously watching your every movement by where he's leaning by the bar, Coriolanus quickly makes an excuse to exit the conversation he found himself trapped in, before walking outside towards your shivering figure.

Your dress certainly isn't helping your situation, it being a satin slip dress with sleeves and a conservative cut out by your shoulders. It exposes your chilled skin as you rub the naked space with your arms, your staggered breaths coming out in white puffs of smoke.

"Corio! What're you doing he-" you start to walk towards him but nearly trip, his arms coming to supporting your body last second to save you from falling completely on your face.

"You shouldn't be outside in this weather." he comments, amused, as he helps you find your balance once more. But you refuse to re-enter the ballroom, choosing to instead excitedly ramble about how wonderful winter in the Capitol is and how you can't remember where you've placed your bag.

Listening earnestly to your ramblings with a smile on his face, he quickly shakes off his blazer.

"May I?" he asks. You blink slowly, heart fluttering at the gesture.

"O-okay."

The boy then carefully drapes his blazer over your shoulders, the act immediately enveloping your senses in his signature smells - oakwood and rose. Your fingers clutch the lapels of the jacket, your nose burrowing in to the softness of the fabric.

"Are you sure you won't be cold?"

He's freezing, of course, but he keeps his posture straight and tuck his hands into his pockets.

"I'm just fine. Don't you worry about me."

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

three: nicknames

Once you two become an item, Coriolanus moves on to calling you affectionate names.

Of course, he'll prefer to call you by your name in professional settings - like during a presentation, in front of the Academy staff, at formal galas and dinners - but when it's just the two of you, or around people you both trust, or when he's jealous -

He almost never calls you by your name.

Darling is the classic, lovestruck expression he uses when he's being his most vulnerable. It's what he whispers into the gap underneath your neck when he's waking you up in the morning, landing kisses across your collarbone during sunrise. It's his greeting when he surprises you with a bouquet of flowers on your birthday, right before he whisks you away to a trip to district 1. It's what he cries into your hairline when you are hospitalized following a rogue rebel explosion on your trip home.

"Darling... darling, can you hear me?"

Coriolanus' voice is foggy, your head still ringing from the loud explosion earlier, but your heart still races at the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand on yours. Throat croaking, you try to respond with an affirmative "yes", to which your boyfriend responds by quickly grabbing a near by cup of water.

Gently guiding the glass to your lips, he treats you as if you're a fragile porcelain doll: smoothing down your hair gently and fluffing up your pillows to lay you back down. It's only then that you get a good look at him under the flickering lights - the bags under his eyes look heavy, his usually neat hair a complete mess, his blue irises blood shot.

"Have you been sleeping, Corio?" you ask, worried, your thumb rubbing circles onto his palm. He chokes up at that, shaking his head sideways with a sad smile.

"How... how could you ask me that, darling? You've been in the hospital for days."

"I hope that doesn't mean you haven't been sleeping for days." you quip back, raising your eyebrows. Your boyfriend opens his mouth to lie, but the twitch of his lips gives him away. So you instead shift towards the left of your bed, making space for him on the mattress.

"Come on you silly man."

He smiles a guilty grin before snuggling up next to you, letting out a heavy sigh of content at your warm body against his.

Petal is his sweet, infatuated name for you when he's referring to you in conversation or calling out for you in front of friends and family. Tigris never fails to tease Coriolanus for the name, but he doesn't mind it - you're his flower, his precious petal.

"I can't believe you think this is ugly." Tigris sighs at the dinner table one night, shuffling through the myriad of designs on the desk. "This was going to be the design I send off to the boutique tomorrow."

"I didn't say it was ugly, I just think this design is far nicer." Coriolanus responds, pushing forward the blue design in front of him. His cousin pouts at that, clearly unsatisfied with his answer.

"Petal-" Coriolanus calls out for you, where you're cooking with grandma'am in the kitchen. "Could you come in for a moment?"

When your confused face pops into the room, Tigris quickly calls you over, dramatically stretching out her arms to grab you.

"Mr Snow seems to think this design - the gold sweetheart dress with lace trimmings - is uglier than this blue version. What do you think, (Y/n)?" she earnestly asks, pushing over the two designs to your direction. You shuffle through the papers intently, studying each drawing up close, before ultimately taking Tigris' side.

"I'd say your eye for design is impeccable, Tigris. And that Coriolanus should perhaps stick to things other than fashion."

That makes both grandma'am (who is listening in from the kitchen) and Tigris, burst out in laughter, with the latter throwing her arms around your waist in a sideways hug.

"Ah, I knew you were my favorite for a reason." she jokes.

"Petal, you wound me." your boyfriend jokes, a small scowl on his face for show. Though, when you lean down to kiss him, the scowl easily melts away.

My doll is what he calls you when he's driven sick by jealousy and possession. As, much to Coriolanus' distate, you have many admirers - due to you coming from a wealthy family and being a well known socialite in your own right.

Coriolanus has never liked Felix Ravinstill, but he swears his hatred for the president's son only tripled after you and Coriolanus became an item. Felix was never shy about his attraction to you - the forward compliments, the invitations to his house after school, the rush to sit next to you during lunch periods. But now, the blonde thinks, it's getting full on desperate.

As you sit reading a book in the hallways of tha academy, waiting for Coriolanus to finish his talk with Dr Gaul, the dark haired boy decides to chat with you. When your boyfriend opens the door discreetly, upon hearing your voice mingle with someone else's outside, his vision nearly turns red at how close the other man is to you.

You're pointing out something in your book to Felix, your innocent eyes fixated purely on the black and white text and thus completely missing how shamelessly the man next to you is eyeing you up and down. It takes Dr Gaul's shout - "actually, Ms (Y/n), could we have a word regarding your last proposal" - for Coriolanus' rage to slowly fade.

Instead, he starts to feel cold, hardened logic putting a plan into motion.

And once you're inside the classroom, Coriolanus doesn't hesitate to slam Felix up against the wall, making sure to angle the boy's head to hit directly against a marble statute. The impact isn't hard enough to crack the man's skull, the last minute measurement in Coriolanus' head ensuring that he wouldn't be punished for injuring the president's son.

But he makes sure that the impact hurts enough to leave a mark.

It makes Coriolanus' heart twist in pleasure.

"You better leave my doll alone, Ravinstill. She's not interested in you. She's never been interested in you." he spits, snarling like a ravenous dog.

"You're delusional, Snow, if you think she'd ever want to stay with you." Felix manages to spit out, trying to wiggle his way out of the taller man's hold, but Coriolanus is too strong.

"You're the only delusional one here. It's pathetic, really. All that money and social connections in the world, and it'll never be good enough for my doll."

Coriolanus can tell that hit a nerve with Felix, so he lets go of the shorter boy, nearly throwing him away to the side in the process. Pride and ego surges through his veins when you appear and call out for Coriolanus, so the blonde makes a concerted effort to kiss you fiercely for show.

His arm snaking around your shoulder to pull you right up against him, a devious smile on his lips.

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

four: lavish gifts and deep marks

Things only escalate once Coriolanus' tribute ends up winning the hunger games and he's crowned the winner of the Plinth Prize. Now saddled with money, reputation and a full ride scholarship to the university funneled by the Plinth family - he finally finds himself able to spoil you in all the ways possible.

Fresh flowers adorn your windowsill every morning. The finest jewellery and newest luxury bags are delivered to your doorstep at random. Perhaps most impressive of all, he buys a two bedroom apartment near the center of the Capitol for you two to move into.

"How'd you..." you can't even finish your sentence when you first see the place: the prime location, the high arched ceilings, the stainless marble... He hadn't even allowed you to pitch in any of your own - or your family's - money to buy the place, insisting that it was to be a complete surprise.

His arms come around your shoulder to hug you close, swaying you from side to side.

"Generosity of the Plinth family and the spoils of being the victor, darling." he drawls in your ear.

You're still in awe, hands tracing the intricate patterns of the roman columns supporting the ceiling, when he starts to tug you up the stairs.

"Would you like to see the view from our bedroom? It's magnificent."

Of course, Coriolanus' new elevated status and recent memory of acting as a mentor in the hunger games - planning, guiding, and having a role in the extended play of human lives - it all makes him quite obsessive and possessive of you. Given that you're one of the few people in his life who has known him for years now, before he was a mentor and before had all this money and status...

He has to make sure to keep you in his life. He's made a lot of enemies, after all, many of whom would like to harm him. And with his undying love for you, hurting you becomes an attractive option for his enemies.

So Coriolanus gets more possessive by becoming more shameless in public. He'll gladly call you his love in front of crowds of hundreds. He'll kiss you breathless and squeeze your lower back if he thinks a man is staring a bit too long at you. And when he knows you two will be separated for a few days - usually due to him having to travel out of the Capitol on business matters - he'll leave bite marks on your neck.

You didn't even think about how noticeable the marks might be when you rush out of bed one morning, having promised to attend an engagement dinner of a fellow classmate, Clemensia's. Your rude awakening comes when, mid-way through the rehearsal, Sejanus leans over to quietly ask if you've brought your foundation with you.

You scrunch your face at the odd question.

"Uh, yes... I have a powder compact in my bag, why?"

Your friend smiles at you apologetically, before motioning to your neck.

"Because, (Y/n), it looks like a vampire has bit you."

And when you look at your reflection in your wine glass, it's clear that you have odd, dark, bite shaped marks littering your collarbone and neck.

Later in the week, when Coriolanus has finally returned from his business trip, you try and scold him for it.

"I nearly died of shame, Corio. Seriously, you should've seen how Arachne was looking at me the whole night." you sigh, just as he laughs.

"You're over thinking it, darling. Besides, you weren't complaining when I was leaving those marks on you on Tuesday."

You open his mouth to scold him again, but find yourself unable to mutter a smart response, your thoughts flying away when he's back to attacking your skin with his mouth.

After all, you're like a drug to him - he can never get enough.

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

five: killing for you

Once Coriolanus is sure that you're not going to leave him, he finds it appropriate to take it to the next level: marriage. He drops a few thousand dollars on a large diamond ring, a ring which he makes sure you never take off (except in the shower).

At this point, the thought of losing you nearly equals his fears of losing everything he's built so far: becoming wealthy, powerful and well known amongst the Capitol's elite. He's terrified of living in a world without you and so he considers anyone who is deemed a threat must be dealt with in a secure, efficient manner.

No mercy, no hesitation.

After all, Coriolanus thinks one night, whilst sharpening a spare knife in the kitchen: if you give a rebel an inch, they'll run a mile.

The first person he kills is a security guard who fails to do their job correctly in protecting you.

He'd been hired by Coriolanus to protect you in your daily transport from the mansion to anywhere outside the Capitol (most often, to districts 1-3 to support your family's business dealings). But the bodyguard had failed to protect you one fateful winter day, leaving you to stumble back home with a twisted ankle and a busted lip as your bodyguard was only able to neutralize the threat after a few minutes of tussling with the gang's leader in the snow.

Your fiancee was fuming, sending you off to a near by hospital with grandma'am, before he motioned for your bodyguard to come downstairs to the empty garden.

The blonde didn't even feel an ounce of sorrow as he pulled the trigger, simply ordering the next bodyguard he'd hired to do the messy job of disposing of the body.

The second person he kills is a rebel who attempted to sneak a bomb underneath the car transporting you to the Capitol, following Coriolanus' announcement as candidate for the presidency.

The rebel was apprehended by the security detail team pretty quickly, so fast in fact that you weren't even made aware of the threat on your life. All you're told that day by Coriolanus' subordinates is that "there had been a change of plans" and you were to go to a fundraising dinner at an art museum instead to raise funds for the campaign.

And whilst you're off at the dinner, making a passionate speech for his presidency, Coriolanus makes an order for the rebel to be dragged out into the fields.

"You dare threaten the love of my life?" he sneers into the rebel's face, which is already bloodied and broken beyond recognition. The animalistic rage pumping through Coriolanus' veins is unlike anything he's ever felt before, and the gun in his hands suddenly feels like too much of a merciful ending for the rebel's crime.

"Just kill me." the rebel spits, but that only makes Coriolanus let out a sinister chuckle.

"Don't worry, I will. But I think a gun shot will be far too quick."

Instead, Coriolanus orders the man to be placed into a cage - a prototype that was being designed as a trap for the next year's games - and for a tub of venomous snakes to be released.

Whilst the other workers in his campaign look away from the horrific sight, Coriolanus just stares in great interest and pride. Once the screaming dies down, he calmly disposes of his bloodied shirt and hails a ride to greet you at the museum entrance.

"All good?" you ask, noticing an odd expression on your lover's face. But he just kisses you lightly on the lips, chuckling.

"Of course, petal. Why wouldn't it be?"

And so on and so forth. Whether it's directly or indirectly, Coriolanus becomes ruthless in securing your safety and your love. And he's so good at hiding it, he thinks, until one day he becomes a bit sloppy.

It was supposed to be an easygoing dinner at the mansion, a wealthy donor - his top donor, his campaign manager had informed him - named Robert Hemingworth had requested a private dinner. Coriolanus intially wanted to refuse, hating the thought of inviting a stranger to his home, but both you and his campaign manager agreed that it was best to play nice given the money at stake.

"For your troubles." Robert had said on his way in, a snarky smirk on his lips. In his arms were a basket of wines and grapes worth a pretty penny, but Coriolanus couldn't help but think that there was something about the brunette's gaze that he didn't trust. But with pursed lips and a fake smile, he forced out a thank you and invited the man into the foyer.

"What a... charming little abode." the oil tycoon had drawled, his gloved hands tracing along the walls. The sly comments and odd compliments (in truth, backhanded compliments) continued through out the night, all the way from appetizer to the main course. Sipping on copious bottles of red wine in an effort to keep himself grounded, Coriolanus was managing to keep his temper down until the older man asked about your whereabouts.

"Will your charming fiancee not be joining us?"

He froze at the man's questions, the hungry look in the millionaire's eyes and the underlying threat weighing down the atmosphere. The desserts had now arrived, two maids scurrying in with small plates of bread pudding, both of whom Coriolanus quickly dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"She's out with Tigris. Dress shopping." he'd decided to leave it at that, his left hand squeezing his glass so tight the glass started to crack. Coriolanus had hoped the man would leave the discussion there, as he wasn't sure what he was capable of doing if the older man didn't.

But the man continued. A disgusting moan escaping his lips in satisfaction after biting into the pudding, a devious smirk on his lips to match.

"Ah. Well, what a shame. I was hoping she would be part of the dessert."

No sooner than those words leave the millionaire's mouth, Coriolanus' left hand grabbed the knife laying on the board in front of him, where moments ago the maids were cutting cheese and ham. He then brings the blade to swiftly meet the older man's stomach, white dress shirt staining crimson red, all the while Coriolanus refuses to break the man's gaze.

"You fucking disgust me. Everyone in the Capitol fucking disgusts me one way or another, but you? You dare invite yourself to my home?" he retracts the knife, before stabbing it back into the suited man's flesh, each pause accentuated by another driving force.

"You dare speak about my love in such a vulgar manner?"

"You dare insinuate such sinful acts with my beloved?"

"You dare try and buy your way into her body?"

The marble floors are now flooded in a sea of red, the man's dying chokes and Coriolanus' heavy breaths overwhelming the room. The room stings of the smell of copper when you enter the space, quietly closing the door behind you, as you were only able to see the man on the floor and your boyfriend standing on top of him from the entrance.

"Corio? Love?"

The blonde turns around at the sound of your voice, face etched with annoyance.

Annoyed that you'd have to be subject to a vulgar sight like this. Annoyed that he'd stained your new kitchen set with an unworthy man's blood... And most of all, annoyed that he can't tell what you're thinking: your face kept completely neutral as you slowly approach him.

"You're back early." is all he decides to say, testing the waters.

You look down at his hands, soaked in hot blood, then down at the man who is writhing on the floor.

"Found what we wanted quickly, I suppose." you reply, stopping next to Coirolanus before leaning down to get a better look at the dying man. "Right, what was his deal?"

"Hm?"

It's only then that your plain expression breaks, your usually light eyes swimming with sinister charm, a coy smile breaking out on your face.

"Come on, Corio. You don't seriously think I didn't notice the amount of odd stains on your cufflinks? Or the terrified looks the house servants give you since the beginning of our engagement?"

He blinks, surprised. Coriolanus had always assumed he was covering his tracks well. Or that, at the very least, you'd have something to say about it all.

"He was making rather vulgar comments about you, darling. The bastard seems to have been making donations in an effort to get closer to you." he slowly explains as you stand back up, nodding slowly.

"Hm... Yes, that is rather concerning. And I suppose you've gone too far ahead for us to save him, always the temperamental lover you are." you tease.

Your humorous response and your unwillingness to run away from the darkness of the situation, it awakens something fierce in Coriolanus that he hasn't felt for you before.

"I suppose."

The euphoria he feels when your delicate fingers lace his to grab the knife instead, before you finally drive the blade down and end the man's life, is indescribable.

"I think you owe me a new dress." you say quietly, dropping the knife onto the floor.

The blonde wastes no time gathering you up in his arms, kissing you so fiercely that it almost hurts your neck.

"I think I owe you more than that, darling. How about the entirety of Panem?"

He'd do anything for you. The entirety of Panem be damned.

a/n: omg this has got to be the darkest piece of writing + fucked up ending I've ever written in like years of writing on tumblr 😅😭 but idk I'm obsessed with an idea of Corio's partner being someone who embraces him wholeheartedly and surprises him by being darker than she seems on the surface.

please leave a like/comment/reblog/ask if you've enjoyed, your support is what motivates me to write!

ALSO I've just re-opened my requests bc I would love to receive some corio fic ideas, so please send in your corio thoughts if you have any 🥺🥺🥺

[tender-rosiey]

Broooo i need more of sukuna and his shy daughter. PLEASE🙏

quiet strings — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

your daughter sits in the corner, her small figure nearly swallowed by the shadows as she stares at the koto placed on its low stand in the middle of the room.

the delicate strings, taut and gleaming, shimmer in the fading light, waiting for the timid touch of her fingers.

sukuna leans against the doorframe, his imposing figure filling the space as he observes her with a sharp, unreadable gaze.

the contrast between his crimson eyes and the softness of the room’s light is almost startling.

he tilts his head slightly, breaking the silence with a muttered, “how long is she going to sit there staring at it?”

you turn to him, shooting him a look that carries years of unspoken understanding.

“she’s just nervous,” you say softly, the familiar warmth in your voice tempering the sharpness of his. “give her a moment.”

“nervous?” sukuna snorts, his lips curling into a smirk that reveals a glint of his sharp teeth. “over a bunch of strings? she’s my daughter, isn’t she? she should be tearing that thing apart by now.”

at his words, your daughter flinches ever so slightly, her small shoulders hunching as she curls inward, her fingers gripping the hem of her sleeve.

you sigh, brushing past sukuna as you cross the room to kneel beside her. the subtle rustle of your robes is the only sound as you reach out, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“sweetheart?” you call, your voice as gentle as the breeze filtering through the open window.

her wide eyes, so much like her father’s but lacking his imposing intensity, flick up to meet yours.

“yes, mama?” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the cicadas.

you smile, radiating a quiet reassurance that you know she needs. “you’ve been looking at the koto for a while,” you say. “do you want to try playing it?”

her small hands fidget with the hem of her sleeve as her cheeks flush a soft pink. she shakes her head quickly. “no… I can’t. I won’t be good at it.”

from the doorframe, sukuna lets out a low grunt, but you silence him with a quick glare over your shoulder.

he raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching in faint amusement. you turn back to your daughter, cupping her cheek in your palm, your thumb brushing lightly over her soft skin.

“you don’t know that,” you say with quiet conviction. “why don’t you try just one string? I’ll stay with you.”

her gaze darts to sukuna, who stands silently watching. his expression is as inscrutable as ever, but the weight of his attention seems to unnerve her.

still, she gives you a small nod, and you smile, helping her to her feet.

as you guide her to the koto, sukuna pushes off the doorframe and strolls lazily into the room, his presence looming as he stops a few steps away, arms crossed.

“you’re coddling her,” he mutters under his breath.

“she’s learning,” you counter without missing a beat, glancing at him over your shoulder. “not everyone leaps straight into things like you.”

his smirk deepens, but he says nothing more.

your daughter kneels beside the koto, her tiny hands hovering uncertainly above the strings. “just one,” you encourage gently, sitting beside her to offer your steady presence.

her small fingers tremble as they pluck a single string. the note rings out, soft and clear, hanging in the air like a fragile thread.

she freezes, her wide eyes staring at the koto in awe as the sound resonates and fades.

“see?” you say, smiling warmly. “you can do it.”

she glances up at you, her lips parting in a tiny, hopeful smile. encouraged, she plucks another string, then another. a tentative melody begins to form, its simplicity endearing.

from his spot a few paces away, sukuna raises an eyebrow. “is that supposed to be music?” he drawls, his tone sharp and teasing.

your daughter’s hands falter immediately, her shoulders tensing as she shrinks back.

“sukuna,” you snap, your voice low but firm. it’s the same tone you use when reining him in—something none other than you would dare.

he shrugs, completely unrepentant. “what? if she’s going to play, she might as well do it properly.”

your daughter begins to pull her hands away from the koto, her confidence shaken, but you place your hands gently over hers. “don’t listen to him,” you say softly, giving her an encouraging squeeze. “you’re doing wonderfully.”

she hesitates, her gaze flicking between you and sukuna before nodding timidly. “really?”

“really,” you say firmly, shooting sukuna a pointed look. “and I think you should keep going.”

her small hands return to the strings, and this time her melody grows steadier, her confidence building with each note.

sukuna lets out a low grunt of approval. “not terrible,” he admits begrudgingly.

your daughter’s face lights up, a shy but bright smile breaking through as she turns to him. “papa?”

he steps closer, crouching down to her level. his crimson gaze bores into hers, but his gruff tone softens slightly. “you’re still not that good,” he says, resting an arm on his knee, “but at least you’re trying.”

her eyes sparkle, her voice earnest as she promises, “I’ll practice more, papa!”

“good,” he replies, standing to his full height again.

you are silently encouraging d/n to play more, before you’re whisked up in your husband’s arms.

you look back at your daughter—who did not notice your absence—and then at your husband before frowning, “hey, what gives?!”

“I want another one.”

“what.”

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[messylustt]

౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 1.3k words

fic masterlist pt one next part

i’ve gotten some help with my spanish and have approved/fixed accordingly (if you have any suggestions on the spanish please speak up!); enemies to lovers trope; not obvious, but subtle jealous miguel; human(not spider-person)!reader; spanish term of endearment ‘chaparrita’ — miguel o’hara has never liked you—a human—joining the team as the ‘person in the chair’. he’s made his distaste for you clear. but when he speaks certain spanish words you don’t understand, he reveals that his annoyance of you is by the fact that you make him feel ‘hot’. soon, a deal surfaces, his promotion benefitting you both.

Miguel watches as you fiddled with the different tech machines, tapping with a focused gaze. He tilted his head, staying by the large spider, having spread out screens filled with the many mission's info.

He had a slight scowl on his face, his expression usually one considered moody. But this time he had a reason for it. You.

You were a pain to Miguel, far too nice to every spider-person. He hadn't liked having you here the moment a few of them recommended you. They described you as the 'person in the chair'. You were smart, sure, but Miguel didn't think you belonged here. You weren't a spider-person like the rest of them, you were human.

He jumped down, landing beside you. You look to your left, having to tilt your head up at his sheer height. You gulp. You've always been nervous around Miguel O'hara. You didn't think he once smiled, his gaze only seeming to harden, especially when you would speak.

So, you kept it minimal. Only talking to him when it was required. "O'hara." You nod, turning quickly back to your work. "Anything I can help you with?"

"Nothing you can help with, y/l/n." His small jab at your inability in many areas, such as swinging from buildings with web, made you straighten your spine.

You ignore his tone, again not daring to meet his gaze. "Then, I'm sure Jessica will be here soon to help with anything."

Miguel's eyes wander your stiff posture. He could tell that he made you nervous, and part of him relished in that. It helped him think that you knew your place.

When you noticed that he wasn't leaving, you go to say something else, when Hobie and Peter burst into the room. Both yours and Miguel's attentions shift. Hobie easily moves towards you, making you smile. He reached his hand out as you did what many would call a typical 'bro handshake'. But Hobie instead chose to call something far from normality, in his prominent british accent.

Hobie was one of the ones who recommended you for this job. And you've been beyond grateful since.

"How's ya bloody borin’ shit goin’?" Hobie asks, leaning down to see whatever nonsense you had typed up.

"Describe 'boring shit'." You say, your tone turning smug.

He scoffs, eyeing the screen again, before giving up and grabbing your chin to turn back to the tech. "Keep working."

You chuckle, just as Miguel speaks. "Aren't you supposed to be out?"

Hobie looks to Miguel, straightening his guitar strap. "What—should I start callin’ ya boss, and kissin’ ya boots?"

Hobie has always been one to 'do his own thing' and completely bypass the rules. Miguel looks unimpressed, as Hobie holds his hands up in fake innocence. Peter chimes in. "He doesn't wear boots."

Hobie glances at him. "Thanks Peter. I didn't know."

Peter doesn't have time to respond before he's running after his swinging daughter. "Just get back to work." Miguel says. "That includes you, Peter. And didn't I say not bring her here?" He sounds exasperated, as he pinches the bridge between his nose.

You spin in your seat watching as Peter sends back a 'sorry', as he disappears, running through the large exit door. Hobie is quick to follow sending you a nod and a smile.

You wave them off, feeling the tension flood back into the room now that it's just you and Miguel again. You swiftly spin back in your chair, your fingers going back to tapping, as your legs spread comfortably.

Miguel looks back at you, before running his hand down his face, muttering. "No abras las piernas como una invitación." (Don't open your legs like an invitation.)

You pause, glancing at him. "What was that?"

He glances back at you, eyeing your confused expression. You, of course, didn't know spanish.

He places his hands against the desk, leaning a fraction closer to you, his gaze fluttering across your features. "Podría decirte cualquier cosa en español y no sabrías lo que quiero decir." (I could say anything to you in Spanish and you wouldn't know what I mean.)

"You know I don't know spanish." You mutter.

"I know. And the thought of you being so unaware, makes me want to tell you..." He leans closer to your ear, making your pulse beat rapidly. "....cuanto me haces arder, cariño. (how much you make me burn inside.) And it’s beyond annoying.”

You sigh, pushing slightly away from him. "Look, I know you find me annoying." You begin. "That's fine. But just...can you at least give me somewhat of a chance?"

"Do to what?" He asks, crossing his arms, as he leans back against the desk.

"To prove I'm helpful."

"Helpful?" Miguel asks, tilting his head. "You want to be helpful?"

"Of course."

"Then find a more suitable job." He stands to walk away.

"If you want me gone, then why don't you fire me?"

He pauses for a moment. "Sadly, I need a proper reason for that. So, if you want to be helpful to me. Then fuck something up."

"But while you're here being useless you should probably learn spanish." Miguel says as he walks out the door.

You huff, staring after him, watching as his back muscles contracted in a way that made you look away, gulping. Fucking Miguel O'hara.

;;

You sit, feet up by the tech, as you tapped away on your phone. You got a congratulatory 'ding' whenever you got a word or sentence right, and a rather loud 'booing' sound when you got a word or sentence wrong.

Yes, you're trying to learn Spanish. You sadly hadn't remembered word for word what Miguel had said to you, so you couldn't put it through translation. He must have purposefully spoken fast so you wouldn't have time to catch each word and remember.

'Me gusta ir al museo.' Your phone spoke. It translated to 'I like going to the museum' You had gotten it wrong, putting ‘park’ instead.

You groan, your head knocking back as your eyes shut in annoyance. You were only smart in certain areas. You let your phone drop to the desk, as you stretch, keeping your eyes shut tight, as if you could find the Spanish language hidden behind them.

"Spanish?" A deep voice spoke, making you jump, swiftly getting to your feet and spinning.

Miguel stands in his signature spider suit, your phone in his grasp. "I didn't think you'd actually listen to me."

You snatch it back, switching it off, as you scratch the back of your neck. "I was just..." You drift off sighing. "I like this job."

Miguel watches you closely. "You're committed, I'll give you that."

You smile, the word 'progress' swirling in your brain. "I learnt a sentence." You say, brows creasing in remembrance. "Me gusta...ir al...musio?" (I like going...to the...musio?) You say this more so as a question as you meet the amused gaze of Miguel.

"Ir al museo." (To the museum) He corrects, knowing the generic 'hobbies' sentences most kids learn.

"…I was close." You say, smiling, before you realise who you're talking to, your nerves returning.

Miguel nearly kicked himself for feeling warm at the small smile that you gave. You were trying to learn spanish—loosely—for him. "Can I make you a deal?" He suddenly asks.

You narrow your eyes a fraction. "What kinda deal?"

"One where we can help each other." He mutters, stepping closer. "You want to stay, correct?"

You nod.

"Then you're gonna have to convince me that you'd do anything for a mission."

You straighten, eyes widening at the chance to prove your worth. "I lead most missions, so loosely, you'd have to do anything for me."

He's much, much closer, eyeing you. "But we can make this a ‘give and take’. Let me teach you Spanish—something you'll need working here, close by me, and in return for every lesson, you have to do something for me."

You eye him. "Like what?"

"Anything." He answers. "Because you'll have to do anything that's required for those missions. Call it practice, or proving your worth, chaparrita."

You lick your lips thinking. You can't see anything inherently wrong with this 'deal', so you nod. And that earns you the very first smile you've seen from Miguel O’hara.

i know this is short, but I just wanted to see if any of you guys would be interested in a full fic like this…

also if you would like to be in a taglist for this story — just comment

[blaire-apricity]

Love Language

ʟᴀᴅs ʙᴏʏs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ┆ : 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘈𝘋𝘚 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴? (𝘎𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨)

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 ┆ : 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 & 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘖𝘖𝘊

─────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫

Giving: Acts of service & Physical touch

Xavier often struggles to articulate his feelings with words, so he relies on his actions to communicate his love.

He might fumble for the right words, but you can read his emotions through his body language, which is where he’s most sincere.

He’s always willing to help you, his acts of service might often go unnoticed because he doesn't draw attention to them. However, you knew him well and understands that these small, consistent efforts are his way of expressing love; whether it's packing your lunch (though let’s be honest, it’s ready meals) or running an errand just for you.

He cherishes physical contact with you, savoring the tingling sensation in his hand and the butterflies in his stomach whenever your hands are intertwined.

He doesn’t mind if you’re busy on your phone or reading a book; he just wants to hold you close.

He loves to cuddle, resting his head on your chest to listen to your steady heartbeat, which reassures him of your presence and your shared moments.

He finds comfort in nuzzling into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent, and imprinting it in his memory.

Receiving: Physical touch

Just as he enjoys giving physical affection, he loves receiving them as well.

He might not show overt emotional reactions but there will be subtle signs such as his faint smile, relaxed posture or his eyes softening.

Physical touch has a calming effect on Xavier, it helps him feel grounded and connected with you.

He doesn’t ask for much even, to the point that kissing him and caressing his cheek takes him aback, prompting him to shyly look down while scratching his nape, a mannerism of his endearment for you.

He adores when you take the initiative, like holding his hand in public to ensure he stays close; especially on crowded areas making sure he wouldn’t get lost, or vice versa.

In private moments, Xavier would be more open to receiving physical touch, allowing himself to be more vulnerable and affectionate. He would appreciate gentle caresses, holding hands, or being held, finding comfort and reassurance.

𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

Giving: Quality time & Physical touch

Despite his demanding schedule as a surgeon, Zayne always carves out time to be with you.

While he might not openly express his enjoyment, his appreciation for quality time can be seen in his willingness to make time for you.

No matter how exhausting his day of consultations and surgeries has been, it all fades away the moment he sees you.

He's usually reserved at affection, most likely to be subtle and reserved. Simple gestures like a gentle touch on the arm or reassuring hand on the shoulder.

However, you can tell he's had a tough day when he comes home still in his doctor coat, walking straight to you and pulling you into a tight embrace, his head resting on your chest as he sighs softly.

His strong hands wrap around your waist, gently caressing your back in a possessive yet tender gesture, as if he’s silently conveying that you are the most important part of his life.

In an intimate setting, Zayne kisses you almost greedily, his hand on your cheek, blending his desire with his patience. He wants all of you, yet he’s careful not to push you.

Receiving: Gifts/ Physical touch & Quality time

Zayne treasures the gifts you give him, no matter how small or silly. You might think he’s put them away, but you’ll often find them on his desk, a constant reminder of you.

He loves seeing the little things you’ve given him; they make him smile and think fondly of your thoughtfulness and humor.

While he appreciates physical touch, he values the time you make for him as well.

With both of you having busy schedules, he may not always voice it out, but he deeply appreciates the moments you set aside just to be with him.

He didn’t mind that the things you do together were the simplest, he wasn’t an extravagant person after all.

Watching a movie in the comfort of your home, his arm being cradled by you; that was more than enough.

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥

Giving: Words of Affirmation & Physical touch

Rafayel may often come across as bratty and snarky, but over time, you’ve learned that it’s his unique way of expressing love.

Sometimes he’ll deny sweet statements or act like a classic tsundere, making you chuckle and tease him about it. He might glare and cross his arms, but deep down, he loves it—especially because it’s you.

Unlike Xavier, Rafayel is adept at conveying his feelings through words, though not always straightforwardly. He expresses his emotions through stories or obscure comments.

He never gives direct compliments, but his playful teases about your quirks show that he pays close attention and values you.

While he might push you away playfully, he loves physical touch. He enjoys subtle closeness—standing near you, leaning in while talking, or initiating contact under the guise of annoyance.

His playful shoves and pokes are his way of being physically affectionate without seeming overly sentimental.

Rafayel always wants you close, never wanting you out of his sight.

In moments of genuine concern, he becomes protective, pulling you out of harm’s way or holding your hand to show solidarity, despite you being his bodyguard.

Receiving: Acts of service & Quality time

Rafayel may not openly express his appreciation for your acts of service, but he deeply values them.

His bratty attitude might downplay your efforts, but inwardly, he feels cared for and understood.

He enjoys the attention and care you provide, even if he pretends not to care or brushes them off with a teasing or snarky remark.

Rafayel cherishes your undivided attention. He never wants to share what’s his, and your focus on him is one of his favorite love languages.

Whenever you’re together, he doesn’t want you distracted by anything else—he craves your sole attention.

𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬

Giving: Gifts & Words of Affirmation

Sylus loves to spoil you rotten, often handing over his card and encouraging you to pamper yourself with whatever you desire.

He’s never stingy with his gifts, showering you with everything from expensive brands to the finest jewelry.

When his busy schedule keeps him away, he leaves you gifts as a token of his affection, making up for his absence.

Though Sylus is cocky and arrogant, he has a way with words, honed from years of making deals and running businesses.

He’s blunt and unfazed by emotional nuances, delivering his words of affirmation with a dose of brutal honesty.

He doesn’t sugarcoat his compliments, which makes them impactful. When he says something affectionate, you know it’s genuine and sincere.

His rare, heartfelt words carry weight, adding depth to his expressions of love.

Receiving: Physical touch & Quality time

Physical touch is one of Sylus's primary love languages. While he doesn’t like public displays of affection, it’s a different story when you’re alone together.

He loves intertwining his fingers with yours, reveling in the sense of superiority from the size difference and the feeling of fitting together perfectly.

Sylus is possessive and greedy, disliking the idea of you being with anyone else.

Though he may appear calm and collected, the slight narrowing of his crimson eyes reveals his disapproval.

He treasures the quality time you spend together, craving those private moments where he can hold you close and feel your presence.

·❆　　　❆　❅　　　　•　　　　.　　　　　❆❆• 　·　.　　　❅

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟'𝑠 𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝐻𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑙𝑦, 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓𝑓 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠. 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟, 𝑠𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒-

[deatheaterv]

ENDEARING

pairing : james potter x fem!reader

genre : fluff

summary : james potter teases you ALOT

it started small. james potter, hogwarts’ golden boy, had taken a liking to you, and the entire school seemed to know it. at first, it was easy to ignore—the odd smirk across the great hall, a wave during transfiguration, and the occasional “you’re looking radiant today, y/n!” whenever he passed you in the corridors.

but then he ramped it up.

one morning, you were walking to charms when you heard it.

“oi, y/n! i’ve decided i’m gonna marry you!”

you froze mid-step, the bustling corridor falling silent as every single person turned to look at you. your eyes widened in horror, and you whipped around to see james standing at the other end, his hands cupped around his mouth as he grinned like a lunatic.

“what do you say? sound like a good plan?” he called out, his voice echoing down the corridor.

“i say you’re insufferable, potter!” you shouted back, your face burning.

he clutched his chest dramatically, pretending to stagger backward. “ah, rejection. but don’t worry, love, i’ll win you over eventually!”

you stormed off, ignoring the muffled laughter and whispers from the other students.

it didn’t stop there.

a week later, you were in herbology, carefully trimming a particularly aggressive fanged geranium when james sauntered up to your station.

“looking good, y/n,” he said, leaning against the table with a cocky grin. “but you’d look even better if you let me take you out.”

you didn’t even look up. “potter, if you don’t leave me alone, i’ll feed you to this plant.”

“you’re feisty. i like that,” he teased, wagging his eyebrows.

“and you’re annoying,” you shot back, finally meeting his gaze.

he clutched his heart as if you’d stabbed him. “you wound me again, darling. one of these days, you’ll see how charming i am.”

“don’t hold your breath,” you muttered, focusing back on the plant.

the next day, he upped the ante.

you were sitting in the library, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when james appeared, plopping down in the seat across from you.

“potter,” you groaned, not even looking up.

“just thought i’d keep you company,” he said, resting his chin on his hand as he stared at you.

“don’t you have quidditch practice or something?”

“i canceled it. you’re more important.”

you rolled your eyes. “please stay away.”

“sure, but a kiss first?”

“you’re unbelievably irritating,” you finally looking up to glare him.

he just laughed, completely unfazed. “come on, y/n, admit it. you’d regret it if you don’t want to.”

“not likely,” you muttered, though the faint smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

the teasing didn’t stop, but over time, you found yourself less annoyed by it. there was something about james’ relentless determination that was almost endearing.

one afternoon, you were sitting by the lake, enjoying the quiet, when james appeared out of nowhere, flopping down beside you.

“don’t you ever get tired of bothering me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“never,” he said, grinning. “so, what do you say? want to grab dinner with me tonight?”

“is this your way of asking me out?” you asked, giving him a skeptical look.

“obviously. i’m very subtle,” he said, smirking.

you couldn’t help but laugh. “you’re ridiculous, potter.”

“ridiculously in love with you,” he shot back, his grin widening.

you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed at his words.

then there was the moment that truly caught you off guard.

it was a late afternoon in the courtyard, and you were sitting with lily evans, enjoying the crisp autumn air. james, as usual, appeared out of nowhere, his hair even messier than usual.

“y/n,” he said loudly, dropping to one knee in front of you.

“what are you doing?” you asked, your eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“making a declaration,” he said, pulling a small flower out of his pocket. it was slightly squished, but the gesture was oddly sweet.

“oh, merlin,” lily muttered.

“y/n, will you do me the honor of..”

“potter, i swear to god—“

“-letting me carry your books for the rest of the week?” he finished, grinning as he held out the flower.

you couldn’t help it, you laughed. james potter, for all his arrogance and teasing, was nothing if not persistent.

“fine,” you said, taking the flower. “but just for this week.”

“that’s all i need,” he said, standing up and flashing you a triumphant grin.

as much as you hated to admit it, james potter was growing on you. and maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind being the center of his attention.