#the world is not soft and so my writing will be Tumblr posts

[redvexillum]

@peach-flavored-flambe I started this whole Flufftober/Kinktober journey as a way to challenge myself. Thank you for picking all the prompts for me this month. Thank you for always reminding me to write for ME and not for others. Thank you for being supportive of all of my writing since the day I entered this fandom. I know you are a fluff connoisseur so it's only right that I end this challenge with fluff - it is part Flufftober after all (and I wrote 24 smutty stories this month lol!)

TAGS: disgustingly fluffy, catastor, alastor is bad with feelings, alastor is in denial, touch starved alastor, ambiguously defined established relationship, alastor has a tail

✨️ This is a companion piece to Oblivious Love. A snapshot of a possible mini-series I may or may not write ✨️

In another world, in another time, Alastor would have scoffed at the very notion of competing for anyone’s attention—least of all yours. And yet here he was, locked in a contest of affections with the most revolting, misshapen, red… thing. His lip curled in distaste. 

Competing? 

What a joke. 

He, Alastor, the Radio Demon, competing with… this? This mangy, misbegotten creature that you somehow, with all your boundless compassion, deemed to be a cat. His left eye twitched as he watched you coo at it, tenderly brushing your hand over its head. Every stroke made its misshapen ears flicker back before they sprung up again like hideous, overgrown weeds. 

The beast grinned up at you—a lopsided, almost maniacal grin—and Alastor cringed at its wide, vacant eyes. Eyes that pointed in opposite directions, adding an extra layer of stupidity to its already horrific form. And to top it all off, it wore some ridiculous monocle over one eye, like some half-wit caricature. Alastor's gaze narrowed on the creature’s absurd antler-like protrusion. 

How… befittingly obnoxious.

And then there was the name. 

Catastor. 

Of all the wretched things to call this freakish beast, you—and the rest of the hotel—had somehow arrived at Catastor, no doubt inspired by some misguided notion that this abomination had any resemblance to him. He huffed. The very idea. 

Just as he was about to enjoy a nice, quiet coffee break with you—his sacred time with his favourite person in all of Hell, uninterrupted and undivided—Catastor once again waltzed in, unannounced and unbothered. One garish screech later, and Alastor watched in slow motion as your attention shifted from him to… it. Your cooing started, that soft, adoring voice, while you scratched its revolting back, its purring filling the air with an infuriating satisfaction. 

Alastor’s grin tightened, his claws tapping rhythmically against his coffee cup, every nerve on edge. He imagined roasting the little beast, maybe flambéing it for good measure. Or perhaps he’d skip the cooking and just… devour it raw. 

It wouldn’t respawn. Unlike the sinners here, this little beast wouldn’t come back... 

...Actually, he wasn't entirely sure. It probably wouldn't come back. 

“Are you enjoying that, Catastor?” you murmured sweetly, eyes soft and radiant as you stroked it gently, letting your fingers glide down its back. Catastor’s eyes slowly drooped with bliss, purring loudly, completely absorbed in the luxury of your touch. 

Alastor’s claws tapped harder. Perhaps he would spare the creature for a little longer, let it feel a few more sunrises. But only for now, until he deemed the time right. 

He wasn’t jealous, of course. He’d never lower himself to something so trivial. No, he already had your attention. Compete? He smirked inwardly. He would never. 

“Dear?” Alastor called, his pride swelling as you looked up, your lovely smile still intact, eyes gleaming with interest as they settled on him. His heart raced—it always did when you looked at him like that, so openly, so innocently, as if he were your whole world. Clearing his throat, he kept his tone cheerful, even as he threw a disdainful glance at Catastor. 

“Your drink is getting cold, my dear. All this fuss over that… thing,” he muttered, lingering on the word with disdain as he quirked a brow toward the vile intruder. 

“Oh! That’s true!” you exclaimed cheerfully, scooping up Catastor with all the ease of picking up a damp noodle. The creature seemed to melt in your arms, his gelatinous little body sagging like all his bones had been dissolved into mush. His spine curved absurdly, draped over your arm like a ragged old towel, all while his purring grew even louder. You giggled brightly, an infectious sound that made Alastor’s ears twitch, and his eye give the faintest, most involuntary spasm. 

How smug, how terribly smug that little beast looked, he thought, like he’d won something. Alastor was positively certain that he could draw even more radiant laughter from you if he just had you to himself. 

But this… not-competing for your attention carried on. 

The next day, he found himself strolling around town by your side, his back ramrod straight, shoulders squared, as he recounted the latest juicy bits of gossip from Cannibal Town. Your expression was relaxed, attentive, and that quiet comfort in your eyes swelled a surprising sort of pride in his chest. 

“Oh, and don’t get me started on ol’ Frank here,” Alastor chortled, gesturing with his staff at a dilapidated little shop across the street. “Croaked in the last Extermination, poor fool! And now some hapless soul bought the building!” He pointed with glee just in time to see a young woman struggle with the door before it promptly collapsed on her head. He stifled a delighted laugh. “No one’s managed to run a shop there for nearly five hundred years! Imagine such a waste of souls….” 

“Aww, poor thing,” you murmured sympathetically, your amused smile softening. “Maybe you could help her out? Make her a deal?” you teased, a playful smirk lighting up your features, though your usual kindness still sparkled in your eyes. 

“Perhaps,” Alastor mused, softening his tone as the two of you strolled on. He did enjoy these quiet moments with you, wandering through the chaos of town. Ordinarily, he might have offered any other lady his arm with a bit of playful charm, but as his eyes drifted to your hand swinging casually by your side, he couldn’t help a ridiculous little thought from slipping into his mind. 

What would it be like to take your hand? To clasp his fingers over yours? He imagined the warmth, the softness of your skin and your hand would fit perfectly in his, as if made for him alone. 

The hum of Cannibal Town’s busy streets faded to a quiet buzz as Alastor fell into the silence. His gaze lingered on your hand for a moment longer, and then, in a rare, almost boyish impulse, he stretched out one gloved finger, brushing ever so lightly against the top of your hand. 

Immediately, his gaze darted to your face, but your expression remained calm, as placid as ever, lost in thought. The smallest curl of his grin softened as he looked ahead again, spine straighter than ever. 

A shuddering breath slipped past Alastor's lips. He had held other people’s hands countless times over the years—flirtations, deals, the occasional well-mannered escort—but this was… different. Strangely intimate. Vulnerable, even, which was absolutely absurd. He was over a century old, for heaven’s sake, not some fumbling schoolboy. It was just a hand, after all; he could chalk it up to nothing more than a gentlemanly gesture. 

So, after one fortifying breath, he steadied his gaze forward and reached out, his fingers inching toward yours. 

But… instead of your warm, delicate hand, his fingers closed around something smaller. And… hairier? 

Alastor’s eyes snapped down, and his lips clamped shut to suppress the hiss of static crackling in his throat. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep the shriek that wanted to escape from manifesting into the demonic roar his pride demanded. Because in his hand, instead of yours, was a limp, furry, noodle-like appendage. 

Catastor, somehow, had wriggled its way between the two of you and was now proudly extending its furry little paw into his hand. 

“Eugh!” Alastor recoiled, releasing the beast’s fuzzy limb with an audible cringe. 

You burst into peals of laughter, the sound bright and melodic as you greeted the cat with your usual warmth.

 “Catastor!” you cooed, scratching the creature’s head while it emitted a grating, delightfully hideous meow in response. Grinning up at Alastor, you said with a chuckle, “Look at us—a little family, walking around town like this!” 

Alastor’s grin tightened. “It looks nothing like me,” he muttered, only for the monocled beast to cast him a haughty, one-eyed glare. Under the hellish glow of the streetlights, its monocle gleamed almost smugly. 

“Oh, of course,” you replied simply, your laughter still dancing on your lips. 

His eye twitched as he entertained himself with the idea of cooking the cat into a jambalaya, rich and smoky. But no—that would be a small defeat, a concession that he was somehow competing with the fiendish little furball, which he wasn’t. 

Not at all. 

Yet, the relentless interference continued. Day after day, Alastor’s patience thinned. The little vermin seemed to have made it its life’s mission to sabotage every moment he tried to spend alone with you. He’d reach out naturally, aiming to rest a hand on your shoulder, only to feel the warm, slightly damp fur of the cat draped over your shoulder instead, as if it had some preternatural ability to stretch itself into his every gesture. 

Every time, he could imagine nothing less than punting the thing across the Petagram and sending it into the deepest layer of Hell. Yet, that urge would disappear the moment he heard your bright, amused laughter and saw your radiant smile. It was like you were some smile devil—any glimpse of your joy, and he lost all resolve to do anything that might bring you sadness. 

One afternoon, in the quiet shade of the bayou, Alastor stood by, his legs pulled primly together as he watched you lying in the grass. Your eyes were closed, a soft, contented hum escaping your lips as you lay there, bathed in the dappled light. The whole scene should have been picturesque: you, serene, the epitome of innocence and tranquility. 

But there was that hideous thing, sprawled over your chest like a satisfied pancake, purring loudly as if it had any right to bask in your affection. 

Alastor’s grin was wide, but his eyes were sharp, glaring daggers at the offending beast now lazing on top of you as if it belonged there. You, oblivious, kept humming, your hand stroking the cat’s fur in gentle, absent-minded sweeps. A perfectly peaceful scene, if not for the blob of red fluff ruining the picture by its very presence. 

One day, he mused darkly, one day that creature’s reign will end. But for now, he contented himself with standing by, watching the two of you in bemused, begrudging silence. 

The longer Alastor stared at that mangy little beast basking in your gentle touch, the more a unfamiliar itch settled in the back of his mind. He couldn’t help but wonder, just in passing—strictly passing, of course—what it might feel like if your fingers drifted through his hair instead, tender and deliberate. 

Not that he’d ever ask, of course.

It was merely… curiosity. 

Still, the cat’s purring only seemed to grow louder, practically vibrating with pleasure. Alastor's ears flattened, lying flush against his head as his grin grew tighter, his shoulders hunching slightly as his neck tried to disappear into his collar. He wasn’t jealous, nor was he competing with a wretched creature for your attention. 

He most certainly was not. 

His fingers drummed against his knee, the gentle tap-tap-tap a cover for how long it had been since he’d had time alone with you, just the two of you, enjoying each other’s company without any interruptions. To touch your shoulder, perhaps even feel your hand… in a gesture of camaraderie, of course. 

Yes, that cat really did need to go. 

“What’s wrong?” Your soft voice broke through his reverie, and he blinked, letting the darker thoughts slip away like shadows at dawn. 

Forcing a laugh, he pitched it into that usual two-tone cadence, rolling his eyes with practised ease. “Nothing’s the matter, dear, just basking in the peace and quiet,” he flicked his wrist with a dismissive flair, avoiding your gaze. 

You hummed thoughtfully, then suddenly mused aloud, “I wonder… is your hair soft?” 

Alastor’s eyes widened, his head snapping back to you with an almost painful creak. His heart thundered, warmth radiating through his chest in a dizzying surge. “That’s a rather odd question, isn’t it?” he replied, wincing as he heard the slight waver in his voice. His tail thumped softly against the marshy grass in protest. 

“Well, your son—” 

“He’s not my son,” Alastor interrupted quickly, unable to hide the slight flush in his cheeks. 

You grinned, a playful glint in your eyes, and Alastor found himself scooting just the tiniest bit closer. 

“Oh?” He let a wicked grin slip across his face. “So, you want to touch my hair, do you? It’ll cost you a steep price, my dear.” His eyes glowed with mock menace, and a low buzz of static crackled from his staff. “Perhaps… your soul,” he laughed darkly, the edge of humour softening his tone. 

You blinked at him before bursting into bright laughter. “What if I offer a massage instead?” You wiggled your fingers playfully. “Catastor seems to love it when I give him a little scratch behind the ears.” 

“Ugh.” Alastor rolled his eyes, crossing his arms with an exaggerated sigh. “That cat’s so starved for affection, you could probably kick it, and it’d still be purring like mad.” His grumble was almost swallowed up by his own embarrassment. 

There was a moment of silence as you watched him, a thoughtful look flickering in your eyes. Alastor stiffened under your gaze, nerves prickling as though you could see right through him. Then, with a bright smile, you reached out, your fingers splayed and wiggling in invitation. “You can be the judge then,” you offered with a grin, your hands open and waiting. 

Alastor’s gaze locked on your outstretched fingers, and as if guided by some irresistible, magnetic force, he found himself drifting closer, leaning in with a reverence that felt both foreign and sacred. He knelt just above your head, his eyes meeting yours in a soft, consuming stare, so near he could see the flecks of colour that danced within your gaze under the dim light. Slowly, carefully, he bowed, his face hovering just inches from yours, every breath mingling in the silence. 

His hair brushed against your cheek, and the contact brought a light laugh from you, your voice a murmur that warmed his every nerve. “That tickles.” 

He was entranced, utterly held captive by your closeness, by the way your lashes fluttered and your cheeks flushed. He’d never seen you this close before, and each tiny detail felt etched into his memory. “Well, go on,” he said softly, his tone dipped in a vulnerability he rarely allowed. “Show me if your massage is as grand as you claim.” 

A rush of warmth and satisfaction welled within him when he saw your own eyes flicker away shyly, your teeth worrying at your lip. You looked so endearingly flustered, as if realizing you and he were somehow alone in a bubble of time—just the two of you, no one else to intrude, no foolish cat.

Your fingers threaded delicately into his hair, and he surrendered, eyes slipping closed as he basked in the soft drag of your nails against his scalp. A shiver chased down his spine, and he released a soft, involuntary sigh, savouring every touch. He couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him like this—no, no one had ever touched him like this. 

Your fingers travelled over his hair, deft and soothing, with your thumb tracing small circles at the base of his ear. He shuddered, his tail swaying in a steady, rhythmic beat beside him, betraying just how deeply he was affected. 

“Good?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. 

“Mmh.” His lips curled into a barely there smile, eyes still closed as he revelled in the feeling. “Passable,” he said, his tone rich with teasing. 

Your soft laughter flitted across his forehead, tickling his bangs and sending a delightful hum through his chest. He felt your breath, warm against his skin, each laugh another note of the melody he’d come to cherish. The gentle sweep of your thumb against his cartilage sparked waves of pleasure down his spine, and at some point, he’d eased himself down beside you, both of you lying on the cool grass, faces close as if drawn by an unspoken force. 

“You okay?” you murmured, your smile impossibly tender, amusement twinkling in your eyes. 

He met your gaze and found himself drinking in every detail. He liked your eyes, liked the way they softened as you looked at him. 

He liked your smile. 

But above all, he adored your laughter—the sound that seemed to strip away his defences and leave him feeling both exhilarated and exposed. 

A strange, quiet want flickered in his chest, something deep and hidden, something he hadn’t dared entertain. He wondered, just for a reckless, precious moment, what it would be like to move closer. Close enough that his breath mingled with yours, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your skin, maybe even let his lips graze yours. 

Just close enough… to be with you. 

Would such closeness chase away that cherished smile, rob him of the laughter that had grown to mean so much? 

As his thoughts drifted, your fingers slipped down his hair, tracing the line of his cheek. He could feel your fingertips gliding over his skin, tender and curious. Then came that small, enchanting giggle, a sound so sweet it echoed within him, lingering as if it were a treasure he’d never forget. 

Alastor could feel his heart beating a little too quickly as he leaned closer, drawn by the soft warmth of your touch. His face was just a breath away from yours, his lips so near your forehead, he could already imagine the gentle brush of a kiss. A kiss there would be innocent enough, right? Perhaps pressing his lips to yours would be too bold... but a tender gesture to your forehead surely wouldn’t be unwelcome. 

After all, this was for friendship—of course.

Just then, you sat up, leaving Alastor frozen, a pang of disappointment dropping like cold lead in his chest. But the ache melted away, replaced by a flash of heat, as you leaned forward, hair falling around him in a private curtain that made his breath hitch. Your smile softened, your eyes warm and unwavering, and then they closed, lashes sweeping delicately against your cheeks. Slowly, achingly slowly, you moved closer, and Alastor felt his pulse roar, filling his ears with a rush of anticipation. 

He could feel the warmth of your breath mingling with his, your fingers grazing his cheek as if the touch itself could tether him in place. A thrill he hadn’t realized he was longing for stirred within him. He closed his eyes, waiting, a tension brimming in his chest. His fingers trembled as he raised his hand, longing to close the last bit of distance, to touch you, to be as close to you as he’d been daring to dream. 

But then—“KAOUGH, KAOUGH, KAAAOUGHGHGHH!” 

A horrid, hacking noise broke through the moment like a thunderclap, snapping his focus away and shattering the spell between you. Instantly, Alastor’s warmth turned to ice as you jerked back, your attention stolen by none other than that wretched, blasted cat. 

���Catastor!” you exclaimed, startled, pulling away as the cat began to retch with ferocity. Alastor turned his gaze, annoyance brewing in his eyes, and found himself staring at the feline menace who was now coughing up dark, soot-like balls. These abominable little things, complete with tiny pointed ears and two unsettling, beady eyes, tumbled out of Catastor one after another, writhing and blinking as if they’d just spawned from a nightmare. 

“What the—” Alastor’s voice dropped, a disgusted snarl creeping into his expression as he watched the horrid little creatures emerge. Each ball of shadow looked like a poorly crafted miniature imp, malformed and twitching, with pointed ears and flickering eyes that seemed to leer at him. 

You, however, looked anything but disturbed. Stroking Catastor’s back in gentle, soothing motions, you cooed, “Aww, Catastor, did you eat too much again?” Your voice was filled with a doting affection, and Alastor watched in utter disbelief as the monstrous cat leaned fully against you, sprawling across your torso and letting its chin settle on your shoulder. 

“Yeeeeooowww,” Catastor moaned, an ugly, grating yowl that grated on Alastor’s every nerve. 

He gritted his teeth, feeling the rage simmering beneath his strained grin. The cat’s smug, hideous expression seemed to taunt him as it claimed your attention and care. Alastor could practically hear the mockery in its yowl. In his mind, he imagined various methods of removing this furred menace from your life—and more importantly, from his. 

But as he looked back at you, watching the way your eyes softened with laughter and your voice became gentle for this thing, the thought of that precious smile disappearing stayed his hand. Instead, he forced a tight grin, one that masked the bitterness eating at him from the inside, knowing he would endure—even if he had to suffer through a hundred more of those retched “yeeeooowwws.” 

"Aw, there, there," you murmured, gently patting the cat’s back with slow, soothing strokes. You looked at it as if it were some fragile, innocent creature, while the vile shadowy minions it coughed up scattered in all directions like troublesome spirits unleashed from a curse. 

Alastor could feel his patience fraying. With a quiet, heavy sigh, he sent out his own shadows, ruthlessly ordering them to snatch and crush every last one of the creatures scuttling about his beloved bayou. They obeyed, darting after the minions with deadly precision, each shadow winking out in a puff as they met their end. He folded his hands with a dark, calculated grace, but his gaze—his burning, dagger-sharp gaze—never left that insufferable cat. 

Oh, he saw it, all right. 

Saw the smug curl of its eyes, narrowing like crescent moons, and that infernal tongue hanging out, like it had the audacity to taunt him. Him. Alastor, the feared overlord, the Radio Demon. He felt something ancient and fierce coil in his chest, as if the essence of his full demon form threatened to break through, to remind this creature who reigned supreme. 

But just as his head tilted, shadows thickening around him with a promise of retribution, you turned toward him, drawing his full attention like a magnet. Your eyes softened, and a faint blush crept over your cheeks, spilling a fragile warmth he hadn’t anticipated. “Sorry about that, Alastor,” you said, your voice laced with sincerity, and as your gaze flicked downward, his anger dissolved just slightly, easing in the tender lull of your voice. 

Your next words undid him further. “Maybe tonight, we could read together?” You glanced up, offering a small, gentle smile that seemed to light the space between you both. “Just the two of us?” 

With those words, that insatiable, molten rage that had been brewing in his chest dissipated instantly, snuffed out as though you’d whispered the calmest of spells. 

He was sure of it then—you had to be a Smile Demon. How else could you possibly hold such power over him, capable of soothing his very soul with a single look? 

He gazed at you, awe mingling with amusement. Yes, you must be a demon of terrifying strength indeed—one who held him, the Radio Demon, in the palm of your hand with nothing more than a smile. 

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[aventurineswife]

Pathetic Sunday is the Best!

Summary: In the tranquil gardens, you share a heartwarming stroll with Sunday. As he nervously admires your exposed ankles, you playfully tease him.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Fluff, Soft Romance, Slightly Suggestive.

Warnings: Exposed Ankles.

A/N: I TRIED MY BEST!! 😇🤭 I'll probably write more of him being a pathetic simp of yours (and to improve my writings) lol

Inspired by

Tags: @moonlix14-blog

The air in the Oak Family’s quarters was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, a stark contrast to the chaos that often surrounded them. You found yourself wandering through the vibrant gardens, enchanted by the colorful blossoms swaying gently in the warm breeze. It was a realm unlike any other, a sanctuary that Sunday had crafted for those weary of the world.

As you admired the petals glistening in the sunlight, you heard the soft crunch of gravel behind you. Turning, you saw Sunday approaching, his signature tailcoat billowing slightly with each step. His hair caught the light, and for a moment, you were captivated by how the halo behind him glimmered like a gentle beacon.

“Ah, [Name],” he said, his eyes brightening as they locked onto yours. There was an unmistakable warmth in his gaze, one that made your heart flutter. “What brings you to the garden today?”

“I just needed some fresh air,” you replied, a smile gracing your lips. “It’s beautiful here.”

“It truly is.” he agreed, stepping closer. The soft sound of his boots against the gravel was nearly drowned out by the rustling leaves and distant laughter of others enjoying the paradise he had created.

As he drew nearer, you could see the faint blush on his cheeks. “I, um, wanted to ask if you’d like to join me for a stroll.” he offered, a nervous edge to his voice. It was a side of Sunday you rarely saw—the dignified leader who often seemed so composed and in control now looked slightly flustered, shifting on his feet (like a school girl asking her crush out) as he awaited your response.

“I’d love that.” you said, feeling your own cheeks warm slightly.

As you began to walk side by side, a comfortable silence enveloped you. Sunday pointed out various flowers, sharing their meanings and tales of how they came to bloom in this paradise. But it wasn’t the stories that captured your attention; it was the way he spoke, his passion evident in every word.

Suddenly, a soft breeze rustled your clothing, drawing your attention to your exposed ankles—something you hadn’t even considered until now. Glancing down, you realized Sunday had caught a glimpse, and in that instant, you felt his eyes widen slightly, a mix of surprise and something deeper flickering across his face.

“Your… ankles.” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. The way he blushed made you suppress a giggle. This was the Sunday everyone revered, yet here he was, flustered over something as simple as exposed skin.

“Do you like them?” you teased playfully, taking a step closer to him, intentionally drawing his gaze lower.

“I—uh,” he stuttered, his usual eloquence slipping away. “I mean, it’s just… you look lovely, as always.” His eyes darted away, trying to regain his composure, and his wings instinctively shifted to cover his face, hiding the flustered look that betrayed his dignified demeanor.

The sight of him, usually so confident, now struggling with a light blush on his cheeks was endearing. “Thank you, Sunday. You’re always so kind.”

His gaze returned to yours, and for a moment, the world around you faded. The soft glow of the garden, the sounds of laughter, everything ceased to exist as he looked at you with a mix of admiration and something more profound.

“Being kind is easy when it comes to you.” he admitted softly, a shy smile breaking through his initial fluster.

Feeling a sudden rush of courage, you took his hand in yours, your fingers entwining with his. The touch sent a shiver up your spine, and you could see his breath hitch slightly, a flicker of surprise lighting up his golden eyes.

“Let’s make a promise,” you said, your heart racing. “Let’s always find a way to be happy, even in the midst of chaos.”

He squeezed your hand gently, his expression softening. “I promise. Together, we’ll create a world where happiness isn’t just an escape, but a reality.”

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the world in hues of orange and pink, you walked through the gardens hand in hand, lost in your own paradise, where dreams mingled with reality, and the future felt infinitely bright.

In that moment, with Sunday by your side, you knew you had found something precious—a love that transcended the pain of the world, rooted in kindness and dreams yet to be fulfilled.

[merlucide]

Loving Kaiser.

notes: omg I began writing this after reading his backstory ☹️💔 finally fixed it and brooo.

genre: angst/fluff

wc: 550

warning: like 1 curse word, Kaiser spoilers?

Michael Kaiser is not an easy man to be around. He’s arrogant, rude, petty, egotistical— the list could go on. Yet despite his flaws he has become a powerful predator in the world of soccer, and gained quite the popularity.

The moment Kaiser saw you, he couldn’t help but find himself drawn to you. The way you carried yourself, your mannerisms—it was captivating. But what truly intrigued him was that you wouldn’t take his bullshit. He’d throw out a condescending remark, expecting you to shrink away like everyone else, but you would just meet his gaze steadily, refusing to be intimidated.

You had witnessed the way he used his sharp tongue like a weapon, cutting down anyone who dared to cross him. His taunts were almost a performance, delivered with a confidence that left others reeling.

He tested you with his usual arrogance, belittling comments, and dismissive gestures. Yet, you remained unshaken, standing your ground with a quiet strength that both infuriated and fascinated him.

You were uncontrollable, and he hated that. He hated that he couldn’t dominate you, it made him feel weak. Whenever you would stand your ground it would remind him just how insignificant he was.

The way you would look down on him would fuel a fire in his gut.

But, you didn’t do that. And Kaiser knew that.

You were patient, understanding, and compassionate. You saw beyond his flaws, accepting him for who he was. You thought of him as an equal.

Slowly, imperceptibly, Kaiser found himself falling for you. He tried convincing himself it was anything else than that, he told himself it was curiosity or fascination.

But with anyone else, he would have already turned away, wrapped himself in his defenses before they could reach him. But with you… he didn’t want to run.

Kaiser had never believed he could love someone, nor did he ever believe he could ever be loved. But meeting you absolutely shattered his convictions.

He loved you, Michael Kaiser loved you.

And you loved him.

“Do you always talk to people like that?” you once asked, your voice calm but firm. It was a simple question, but it hit him harder than any insult. For the first time, he found himself at a loss for words.

You saw through his facade, seeing the insecurities and fears he worked so hard to hide. When others would have walked away, you stayed, offering patience and understanding instead of judgment.

He could not hide from your omniscient eyes. He was utterly, and completely exposed in your presence. 

Kaiser let out a light scoff, shaking his lowering head. His eyes dare not meeting yours.

“I don’t know any other way to speak.” He spoke, his voice dry and blank.

You had no reply, you just looked at him. And he knows how you were looking at him— pity. And the last thing he wants is your pity. He would rather gouge his own two eyes out than see that misplaced, solemn expression on your face.

You slowly reached out for his hand, carefully intertwining your soft warm hands, with his calloused cold ones. 

He didn’t fight it, he just allowed his hand to rest in yours. Maybe, maybe, just for this moment, he could let himself believe he wasn’t alone.

You both sat there in an unspoken silence, understanding each other completely.

And that was the day, the little blonde boy inside him felt seen and loved. 

taglist: @someprettyname @sharkissm @luvingshidou @gigiiiiislife

holy shit erm, I think this might be my favorite thing I’ve ever written.. also I think I’ve rlly improved my writing skills n style !! :3 FEEDBACK I BEG U!!! <33

made Nov 1st 2024

[angelicalchaoticabyss]

Burning Spice x reader with their newborn baby :3

Warning: Mentions of being post-partum, after birth, that stuff. Also, sorry if I write him wrong, I just finished playing the story!

It had been a long 9 months, and what felt like an even longer 15 hours. The wild spice tribe leaders were rushing to and fro on Burning Spice Cookie’s orders to get you cleaned up, healed, fed, given drink, etc. The cotton bedding you laid on was replaced with a clean one, you were panting with a sore throat and tear stained faced…but you were happy.

You were happy, because in your arms wrapped in a bundle of soft blankets was a tiny extension of both you and your husband. Your darling beast had been so gentle with you through your pregnancy, and you chuckled a bit seeing him be so nervous to touch you or the child you both had made. The baby had your dough, your hair, but also had his blazing red eyes that you adored so much. It looked like the perfect mixture of the two of you.

You looked at Burning Spice and motioned for him to come closer. He did, moving up right next to you, he was even careful with that.

“Come on now, don’t you want to hold them?” You asked, tired but still playful.

“Yes, but I can so easily break them. I don’t want to hurt them.” He spoke.

“And you won’t, I know you won’t. Come now, they wanna be held by their precious papa.” You snickered.

You carefully held your child up to him, Burning Spice Cookie while hesitant, took the child into his arms. Holding them close to his chest and cradling their head. Your child yawned and opened their eyes, looking at him and then…they smiled. At that your husband started to cry, this big man of destruction, known to laugh at people’s suffering…was crying over his newborn baby. That brought a smile and a laugh.

Your baby gripped his finger and bit it; Burning Spice laughed through his tears and nuzzled his child. That brought more tears to you, but they were tears of joy at seeing your husband absolutely adore his child. He sat on the new cotton bedding next to you, cradling the baby with one arm and holding you close with the other. He kissed your head and then your lips.

“My dear spice, you’re stronger than any cookie I know. And look, you given me a beautiful and clearly powerful heir. I swear on my soul jam that nothing will destroy what is mine.”

That made your heart so fast, you rested your head on his shoulder and cuddled him. He moved the baby to rest on the both of you. Your Great Destroyer just promised not to let anything harm you or his child. Now THAT’S something to get out of him.

As for Burning Spice Cookie, he felt something in his heart that he hadn’t felt in a long time. A true, happy, CHANGE to his life. And he had no intention to ever let it go. You and his child were his world now. A world he will do anything to protect…including destroy a few kingdoms for.

[joongsheartx]

matz hard thought

pairing: poly!matz x gn!reader | reader is in a relationship with both seonghwa and hongjoong. soft!dom seonghwa and mean!dom hongjoong (not too mean)

warnings: smut | mdni

a/n: my 1 am thoughts that i quickly wrote out :)))

one thing you love about being in a relationship with both seonghwa and hongjoong is that you get the best of both worlds in your sex life.

seonghwa is very passionate. he’s dominate but likes to treat you like a delicate flower. there are soft kisses and touches, his thrust are slower but still powerful and deep. he wants to have his body as close to you as possible. he loves to praise you and have you coming until you beg him to stop.

“you take me so well love.”

“so pretty like this.”

“just give me one more my love.”

hwa is addicted to you, anywhere and any time, he’s always thinking of ways he can take you. the kitchen, the living room, the shower, anywhere… when he wants you he has to have you.

hongjoong is similar but much more dominant, he’s fucking you rough. his hands are frantic over your body. he’s biting and sucking on your skin, occasionally leaving a hickey for seonghwa to find. he loves to tease and edge you, making you beg to cum. and when he does finally let you cum, he’ll have you coming back to back.

“you like when i fuck you like this?”

“don’t you dare fucking cum until i tell you.”

“look at you so fucked out, do you want to come angel?”

joong is more on the possessive side but loves the idea of sharing you with seonghwa. though he still likes to play into his possessive nature by making sure seonghwa can hear how well he’s fucking you when you guys are alone. it turns him on even more knowing hwa is hearing you getting fucked by him and having you screaming his name.

both have different ways of fucking you. and they do both have times where they’re more or less dominant. when seonghwa is more rough and hongjoong is on the softer side, it exists you even more. but when all three of you are together, you’re definitely going to be in for a long night.

i give full permission for writers to use my hard thoughts as inspiration to write (with credit ofc)

[crescenthistory]

heyyyy I’m just so in love with how you write Barty so I wanted to do two request if that’s okay! B6 and D8 (if it is with the series you already making even better!) and I love your writing I so much🤍🤍

hi lovie, thank you for your support<3 i've already written for both of these prompts, so i kinda reworked this, but kept the general vibe of sleepiness and fluff and the dynamic

Words: 2k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, use of y/n, remus pov near the full moon so joint aches and lots of anxiety, breaking curfew, I Need Everyone Near Where I Can Protect Them mindset, some minor suggestive quips, background wolfstar, just fluff really

Note: part of the grumpy!reader universe, set after the reveal to friends in and what about it?, but can be read as a stand alone drabble<3

The nearer the full moon crept, the deeper Remus’ protectiveness seemed to root itself into his heart, spreading out into his bloodstream. A wolfish instinct, if you could call it that, to keep his pack close. If his friends were out of his line of sight or, even worse, out of reach for his smell, anxiety burst through Remus’ body until he was left jittery and dizzy. 

That left him in the Gryffindor common room, a good 20 minutes after curfew on a Thursday evening, leg bouncing restlessly as he watched the portrait hole with hollow eyes. 

Sirius beside him had a hand on his knee, originally intended to quell its tremor, and once he realised that would not happen, it remained there as a support. The black haired boy seemed largely unbothered by everything, but the tension in his body betrayed him – though Remus was growing suspicious he was worried about something entirely different than he was. Namely, about him.

Across from them, James was draped over a grandfather chair, head repeatedly falling as he nodded off before he jerked himself back awake.

“How much longer are we going to stay here, Moons?” he managed to get out in between yawns, already worn out from quidditch practice earlier.

“Until our friend is safe in bed.” Remus squared his shoulders haughtily, leaving no room for argument. Then, “Where is she?” he muttered to himself, so quietly Sirius only barely caught it and had to fight back his sympathetic coo.

“Y/N is fine, baby,” he whispered, the hand on his knee shaking it slightly. “It’s not the first time she’s staying out late. Hells, we do it all the time, too!”

And Remus knew that. Of course he knew that. Every other time of the month, that knowledge would have allowed him to shake his head fondly at your antics, heading off to bed excited to hear about your adventures tomorrow.

Alas; this was not any other time of the month.

“I should go find her,” Remus thought out loud, groaning as he got up from his seat too quickly and his joints gave various sounds of complaint.

“Moony, there is no need–” Sirius started before cutting himself off, apparently thinking better. “My love, if there is anyone who can navigate Hogwarts after dark, it is that minx. The shadows would be scared off by her glare alone. And she won’t appreciate your interruption of whatever she is off doing now.”

“Or who,” James whispered through his sleepiness, horror seeping into his voice.

Sirius’ groan at the thought mirrored him. “Merlin’s beard, yeah, she’s probably off with Junior.”

“I don’t think I will ever get used to hearing that.” James righted himself slightly in his chair, dragging his hands up and down his face, failing at ridding it of sleep.

Remus, still standing, turned his hands outward in a dejected position. His friends’ derailing seemed to be of little notice to him. “But we don’t know. I need to know.”

“Rem,” Sirius whispered in that unbearably soft voice Remus thought himself the luckiest boy in the world to have directed at him. He got up from his seat, hands settling on Remus’ waist, both for comfort and for steading him, he suspected. “She is alright. She always is. And, whether I quite like it or not, if she is with Junior, she is double-y safe. If nothing else, that maniac is protective.”

Remus nodded, allowing himself some comfort as he gazed into Sirius’ silver eyes. “Yeah, she is, I know she is.”

A small, knowing smile tugged at Sirius’ lips. “But?”

“But I’m going to go get her.” Remus’ heart clenched a little in humiliation at how deep the wolf’s streak ran in him in these days, but he also would not let any discomfort get in the way of having his whole pack at home in their nests, where they belong. You can continue your adventures tomorrow.

“Yeah, I know you are,” Sirius relented, pulling Remus into a quick, squeezing hug to ground him. “I’ll go get the map and the cloak and we’ll go.”

Before Sirius could finish his sentence, Remus had accio’d both into his hands.

“No, that’s alright, I’ll go myself.” When Sirius looked like he was about to argue, Remus waved his wand a little in his face as if to say down boy. “As Head Boy, I can get away easier with being out past curfew – you on the other hand, would be shackled up in Flich’s basement before you could get a word out.”

“I have been out past curfew without being caught before, Moons,” Sirius guffawed in true Sirius-offence. 

“Not when picking up one of your best friends from nighttime adventures with one of your least favourite people.” Despite his anxiety and tire, Remus shot Sirius a wink and a small grin that told him I know you, Pads.

Sirius sat back down on the sofa with a huff, crossing his arms petulantly. “Be quick, or I’ll be the grumbly wolf.”

Remus bent down – biting back a small groan as his hip objected – and pressed a wet smooch to Sirius’ forehead and ruffled his hair. “You already are, love.”

When Remus walked towards the portrait hole, map and cloak in hand, he passed a snoring James with his mouth agape. He had a creeping sensation that by the time he came back, Sirius would have woken the poor boy by poking his finger into his mouth.

Cloak around him for extra measure, Remus silently slid down the halls of Hogwarts, fumbling the map open to find you. Just as suspected, a small Y/N L/N was in the astronomy tower with a certain Bartemius Crouch Junior, foot steps almost on top of each other.

He almost cursed his friend for choosing her romantic get-away spot at the top of such an awful amount of stairs before he remembered the spell you had crafted for him with Madam Pomfrey just a few weeks back. You had dedicated your free time to inventing solutions for Remus’ different aches – “what’s the point of magic if not to make your life easier, Moons?” – and while this one was still a work in progress, it allowed the field of gravity around his legs to be lifted enough to take some of the pressure off his poor joints. It worked way better than the countless amounts of times James and Sirius had tried to wingardium leviosa him to class.

As he neared the door that your names were sheltered behind on the map, Remus’ nose was appeased as your familiar scent once more flooded him. Barty’s too, for that matter, and though that was a less welcoming one, Remus had come to find he didn’t much mind it either. 

However, he did not hear voices, which puzzled him. Nor any other sounds that perhaps would have had him turning around.

With a careful hand, Remus opened the creaking door to the very top of the astronomy tower, peaking his tawny curls through the opening and trying to behave as a normal concerned friend and not an anxious, possessive wolf.

“Lupin; to what do we owe the displeasure?”

The voice had all of its usual crass wittiness, but an eight of its usual volume. In the wide windowsill across from Remus, the one that had a view of most of Hogwarts’ grounds, sat Barty propped up with a few pillows and you, sleeping soundly on his chest. 

One arm was held protectively around you, his free hand carding gently through your hair. Your face was slightly smushed against his chest, breathing soft and steady.

Remus doubted he had ever seen you look so serene. It almost made him feel bad for interrupting. Almost.

“Good evening to you too, Junior,” he whispered, as he slowly made his way through the room and over to your sleeping form. He swore he could see Barty tighten his grip on you.

“Should a Head Boy be breaking curfew like this? What would good old Albus say?” 

“Well, when a member of his house doesn’t come home at night, I believe it is a Head Boy’s duty to come fetch them.” Remus tried to seem unbothered, not wanting Barty to know just how anxious he gets when his friends are apart. “Albus would certainly approve.”

Barty hummed, looking from him and down at you. The soft smile that played over his lips did not escape Remus. “I would argue she is home.” Barty’s voice was teasing, but it felt quite real for Remus.

“Is that where your relationship is at now?” There was no teasing in Remus’ voice, just soft curiosity. Support, even, though he could never tell Sirius that.

Barty’s eyes flickered up from you again, facing becoming a bit more stoney as he realised his own sleepiness was making him a tad more soft than he wanted to be in front of the Gryffindor.

“Whatever. Well, as you can see, she’s safe. So you can sod off again.”

“She should come back to the dormitories, Junior. I’m sure she wasn’t planning on spending the night sleeping in a stony windowsill, that can’t possibly be comfortable at length.” 

“Firstly, she is mostly sleeping on top of me right now and I’ll have you know I am super comfortable,” Barty quipped, eyeing Remus. “Secondly,–” a breath “– no, she wasn’t planning on sleeping here, but she did fall asleep. So.”

Remus nodded slowly as he read between the lines, trying to fight his small smile at Barty’s expense – he was sure he would not have appreciated it. “You don’t have the heart to wake her.”

Barty scoffed, but his eyes betrayed him. He was caught. “I don’t have a heart period, Lupin.”

“But?” Remus asked, amusement lining his voice in a way he realised mirrored how Sirius spoke to him earlier. Knowingly, affectionately. 

“But look at her, Lupin. I can’t wake her.” While speaking, Barty seemed to gesture towards your sleeping form with the nod of his jaw, refusing to move his hands from where they were drawing circles on your back and playing with your hair.

Remus hummed in agreement, smile officially bursting free of his hold.

“Oh, sodder off,” Barty grumbled as he saw Remus’ expression, but there seemed to be little to no malice in his voice.

“Sorry, sorry,” Remus laughed softly, careful not to wake you with their conversation. “Just… this was not what I expected to happen three years ago when James confessed his feelings for Regulus to me.”

Barty seemed to scowl at the thought of his best friend and his Gryffindor. “They’re disgusting.”

“Yeah,” Remus said fondly. “And so are you two. Ain’t it great?” 

Barty grumbled, hand in your hair stilling to hold the back of your head. “I’m still not waking her up for you.”

“No need. If you’re careful with shifting her, you could carry her back to the dorms with me.”

“You want me to carry her all the way to Gryffindor?” Barty asked incredulously, looking at Remus as if he was stupid. “I appreciate you noticing my spectacular biceps, but that’s just not happening.”

Remus’ eyes twinkled. “Actually, I’ve got just the spell to make it easier for you.”

And so, Barty carefully shuffled you in his arms while Remus had his wand aimed at the both of you, helping ease the gravity off your form so that it would both be easier for Barty to carry you and for you to continue sleeping.

When you were bridal style in his arms, you shifted a little, burying your face further into his neck. “Sorry, Treasure,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline.

“Fuck off, Junior, let me sleep,” you whined, growing comfortable and tired once more. Remus had to fight not to laugh loudly.

“It’s not my fault, the cops showed up to end our fun.” Barty looked at Remus conspiratorially, who only rolled his eyes in return, as he led the way back to Gryffindor. 

“Stop saying stupid things and let me sleep, baby.” Your voice was already drifting off once more and Barty grinned widely at your slurred words.

“Yes, ma’am.”

It amazed Remus how much this boy loved being insulted by you. Your perfect match, evidently.

As you drifted back to sleep, and the closer your little trio got to the common room where his partner and best friend were waiting, the more Remus’ nerves seemed to settle. Everyone is where they should be.

[nina-ya]

Little Red's Desires (Ace x Reader NSFW)

A/N: HIHIHIHI This was a trade originally done for @raddelusionaldive and her oc Harper for a trade in my server!! I had a lot of fun writing this I always love writing for ace!! Pairing: Ace x AFAB reader CW: NSFW MINORS DNI, modern au but like that's barely relevant, car sex, hair pulling (ace gets his pulled), p in v sex, riding, creampie, uh I think that's all! • masterlist • ko-fi • discord server •

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Costume parties- one of the few events where it's acceptable, almost required, to dress up as the most outlandish things and get away with it. The ridiculous, the elaborate, the downright absurd. And naturally, you and Ace had to participate. You would of course show off these outfits at a random house party you were invited to by one of your friends. 

The freckled man had chosen a werewolf costume with faux fur paws, clip on ears, a collar with a little charm dangling from the center, and the fangs- cheap and poorly fitted, but perfectly Ace. His all-black outfit was decorated with touches of gold accents that shined under the dim lights of the party, and the piece de resistance, his coat was merely there to cover his arms, leaving his chest out there for the world to admire. 

Meanwhile, you had opted to match him with a Little Red Riding Hood outfit. Innocence and fierceness all wrapped up in a crimson cloak and a flash of red lipstick. You were adjusting your ensemble when a familiar presence broke you out of your focus. 

When you looked up, there Ace was, already grinning, plastic fangs glinting under the dim lights. Ace had arrived to the party fashionably late, though you knew that he would be held up by his job. However, this knowledge did not stop the smile that graced your face at the sight of him finally making his appearance. He prowled over, eyes fixed on her like you were a prize he had been hunting for hours. 

“Well look at you, Red,” he drawled, leaning close, fangs bared in a shameless grin. “Pretty sure I’m supposed to be the one doing the hunting tonight, but here you are aiming straight for my heart with that outfit.”

You couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped past your lips. “Not my fault the big bad wolf decided to leave his chest out,” you teased, your fingers lightly toying with the fur on his coat. “Makes you an easy target, don’t you think?”

The banter came naturally like it always does when it comes to you two, but tonight the costumes added a layer of intrigue to the whole exchange, bringing out a whole new side of you. Throughout the entire night, you caught him stealing glances at you, finding excuses to always be by your side despite your respective friends pulling you in separate directions. He was just a guy in a werewolf costume yearning for the girl who had chosen to be his Red. 

He caught you later on in the night, approaching you as you sipped a mystery concoction that was sure to give you a hangover the next morning. 

“So, Red Riding Hood, what are you doing around these parts?” His fingers settled under your chin, playfully tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Didn’t anyone tell you there’s a wolf on the loose?”

You raised an eyebrow, scarlet lips curving into a daring smile. “Well, maybe I was looking for trouble.” You poked his chest, finger lingering on his warm skin. “But it seems like I found something… softer.”

Ace chuckled, clearly delighted by the back and forth. “Soft? Alright, I’ll let that side.” He placed his hand dramatically over his heart, pretending to be wounded by your words. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Red.”

“Cute?” You scoffed, “Pretty bold for a guy in cheap fangs.”

His mouth quirked up as he tilted his head, giving you a good, hard look that sent a thrill through her. His fingers traced from your chin down your neck and across your collarbone until they found the edge of your cloak, his thumb tracing along the fabric. “Cheap fangs, maybe. But I make ‘em work, don’t I?”

Ace was way too good at this and you found yourself at a loss for words for the first time that night. In a bid to keep yourself grounded, you glanced down at the drink in his hand and plucked it away, drinking the contents before stacking the now-empty cup under your existing drink. 

“Hey!” He protested, reaching for it, but it was futile as the drink was long gone. “You-Red, you’re ruthless.”

You just laughed, both at the action and the way he almost broke character all over stealing his booze. “Maybe I can be a little dangerous too. Besides, wolves shouldn’t be drinking. They might forget what they’re hunting.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, sending a shiver down your spine. Ace leaned in, lips lightly caressing your ear as he muttered to you, “maybe so. Tell you what, if you’re so dangerous, why don’t you show me?” 

You could swear her heart stopped just for a beat at the proposition, her mind running through all the different scenarios he could possibly be thinking – of course most of them involving much much less clothing. You gnawed at your lip and turned to face him meeting his black eyes as you slid away from him, extending your hand to his, fingers outstretched in an invitation. “Now why would I reveal my tricks so early in the night?” you asked. “Dance with me, and maybe I’ll show you.” 

Without a second thought, Ace slipped his hand into yours as you pulled him close, a grin of satisfaction curving your lips. 

The music thrummed in the background, loud enough to drown out any conversation you were having from curious ears. Ace began to dance with you, spinning you around in a way that had you praying for dear life that your drink didn't spill under the excuse that he just wanted to see the way your dress twirls. You were in their own little world, almost forgetting that you were in a crowded party. 

Every now and then, he’d lean down, whispering nonsense in your ear such as remarks about how he was definitely a much more terrifying wolf than the other guy across the room, or complaining about the itchiness of the fake fur gloves. And you would laugh, the sound sometimes drawing glances from others, but you hardly noticed, not when you were with him. It was nice that you could revel in the silliness of the holiday, the harmless play, and flirt with lines that you may not be able to say on an ordinary day. 

Ace let out a dramatic sigh, his hands settling on your hips as his eyes raked over you. “Guess we’re going to have to start coming to more of these things if it means seeing you like this,” he murmured, almost to himself. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the wolf here is starting to look a little lovesick.” 

He leaned closer, feigning innocence as his fingers traced your side. “Nah, just… captivated is all.” His hand squeezed your side, emphasizing his words. “Can’t blame me, can you?”

You didn’t respond, instead, you slipped a hand up his chest, reaching his neck and playing with the collar that adorned it. You eyed the accessory dangling from the center, tracing your fingers along the ridges until you gripped the charm hanging from the center, making eye contact with Ace once more. Before he could ask what you were doing, you tugged him in, brushing your lips softly over his. Ace’s eyes widened for just a moment before his hands slipped around your waist, pulling you in as he responded by capturing your lips in a slow, searing kiss. You barely heard the delighted whistles of encouragement from the onlookers, and you only broke apart when the playful shout of “get a room!” carried over the music. 

You two pulled apart, slightly breathless, smiling at each other as Ace took initiative and took ahold of your hand, gently tugging you. “Looks like that's our cue, isn't it?” he said, backing up as he started to guide you out of the house.

You slipped out of the crowded room, past all of the laughter and thumping music, into the quiet of a hallway where Ace’s pace quickened, weaving the two of you through the partygoers with you right at his side, laughing as you reached the door. Once outside, Ace pulled you through the cars parked out front until he found his, fumbling in his pocket for his keys until he was able to unlock the door with a beep. The two of you wasted no time. You climbed into the backseat over Ace, settling onto his lap as his hands latched around your waist, gripping tightly. 

It was suffocatingly close in the car, air dense with tension. Each breath seemed to grow shorter as Ace’s hands roamed over your body, trailing up your sides, slipping beneath the edge of your dress, claiming whatever they found. 

“You got the look down,” you murmured, voice low as you leaned in and captured his lips in a deep kiss. You pulled back briefly and adjusted in his lap, feeling him already hard against you, straining against the fabric. “Big bad wolf… but I don't think you’re as scary as you let on,” you said as you rolled your hips against his, pulling a groan from the man. 

Ace’s laugh was a rough, throaty rumble as his fingers tightened their hold on you, pushing you down as he rolled his up into you. “You’re in dangerous territory, Red,” he huffed out.

His hands slid further up your dress with a slow, savoring touch, fingertips dancing along your thighs and up until a hand settled between your legs, fingers pressing into the soaked spot of your panties. His gaze darkened, lips curling into a smug smirk as he slid your panties aside, prodding at the wetness. 

“Eager aren’t you?” he murmured, voice dripping with a rough-edged satisfaction. He removed his fingers and his hand reached for his mouth, taking in the digits and tasting your essence. His fingers popped out of his mouth, and he smirked at the lust-blown look on your face as you witnessed the action. 

Wordlessly, he reached down and fumbled with the buckle of his pants, metal softly clinking as he freed himself from his pants. You looked down and saw the tip glistening with precum, aching to be inside of you. He lifted you up enough to position himself under you, the tip smearing your arousal against him, and he pushed in. deep. The head of his cock pushed through your entrance and he filled you up, stretching you around him and reaching places you didn’t think was possible. 

His hips met yours with a sharp thrust, and he set a punishing pace that left you gasping and scrambling for balance. Ace’s mouth found your neck, his hot breath teasing against the sensitive skin before his teeth scraped down to your shoulder. The strap of your dress slipped down under his rough hands until, with a sharp tug, it gave way, the delicate sound of tearing fabric swallowed by a low and hungry groan. 

Your top slipped, baring one breast to the cool air, and he wasted no time, his mouth latching around your nipple, tongue swirling and teeth nipping at the sensitive bud, pulling a series of breathy moans from your throat. Your back arched, pressing further into him and his other hand gripped your clothed breast, leaving faint impressions of his fingers as he devoured every part of you that he could reach. 

All of the sensations- the suffocating cramped space of the car, the way his cock is deliciously thrusting up into you, his mouth and hand on your breasts- it was almost too much, and you were sent into a spiral, broken gasps and sobs slipping past your lips the longer he went on. 

Confidence fueled by the wild intensity of the moment had your fingers threading through Ace’s hair, pulling back with a harsh tug. His hips faltered for a moment as he moaned out, surrendering as you pushed him back against the worn leather seat, reveling in the way his body just yielded to you. You took the moment to breathe as you looked into his hungry eyes and took over. 

“Fuck-” Ace panted out. “Look’s like I-I’m the prey tonight, hah,” Ace continued in an attempt to tease you. But you silenced him with a sharp glare, muttering a ‘shut up’ as you set your own rhythm, bouncing on his cock in a way that made him let out a breathy groan. 

His hands found your waist, guiding you and helping you find the perfect angle as you rode him, the sound of the car creaking under your movements fills the air alongside your shared gasps. The way he filled you wasn’t enough. There was a hunger growing in you that you needed to satisfy. You gripped his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin as you moved faster, chasing your high with every roll of your hips.

His eyes were glued to your form, drinking in the way you lost yourself in the haze, and the only sounds leaving his lips now were breathy moans and low curses as you inflicted more pleasure upon him.

“God, you feel so good,” he groaned out, voice strained. “Keep going, just like that.” 

The urgency in his voice was utterly intoxicating, every syllable that he utters pushing you further into the bliss you craved. You could feel the pleasure building inside of you and you tightened around him, feeling him twitch in response and giving your hips a squeeze.

And then it happened. The dam of pleasure broke, euphoria crashing over you as you surrendered to the waves of ecstasy. You cried out, the sound raw and unfiltered as your body began to quiver, muscles spasming and clenching around him. The rush was all-consuming, a blinding light that left you trembling and gasping for breath. 

The sensation of your release pulsed like wildfire, your hole creaming around him, slick and warm. You could feel his breath hitching in his throat, his hands gripping your waist tighter as he guided you through your orgasm. 

“Shit, Red…” he breathed, voice trembling as he felt your walls clench tighter around him, squeezing him like a vice. His thrusts became frantic, each push somehow deeper than the last, and with a final surge of energy, he followed you over the edge, his own release crashing over him as his cock pulsed inside of you, coating your insides with ropes of milky white cum. 

As your highs intertwined, the world outside faded into oblivion. You collapsed against his sweat-slicked body, both of you breathing heavily as you took a moment to recover. You were the first to break the silence as you remembered that you had snuck off from the party, muttering, “you think anyone noticed?” 

Ace let out a sigh, looking down at you with a smirk. “Yeah, they probably noticed,” he replied, placing a kiss on your temple. “We should probably clean up before someone comes knocking at my window saying I'm blocking their car.”

You giggled and nodded, capturing his lips in a chaste kiss before attempting to pull yourself together, despite your chest hanging out due to your ripped dress. That didn’t bother you too much though, rather you were more focused on how your limbs now feel like jelly, courtesy of the man in the wolf costume right beneath you.

What a Happy Halloween indeed. 

[debonairprincesposts]

Stroke Inducing Grammar

Summary: Where reader loses their mind over bad grammar and Jason does his best to take their mind off it. (Seriously it’s a nightmare)

Words: 1.5k

Jason lounged on the couch, the soft glow of a lamp casting a warm light over the living room. He held a book in one hand, but his gaze was drawn to you, nestled against him. You were scrolling through your phone, your brow furrowed and lips pursed in a way that made you look like you were about to burst.

‘What’s going on in that pretty head of theirs?’ he thought, internally chuckling at your intense expression. He could almost see the gears turning and the frustration radiating off you like heat from a fire.

“Hey, sweets. You doin’ okay?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, laced with genuine concern. He shifted slightly to face you, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was causing you such distress.

You glanced up, your eyes wide with exasperation. “The grammar of this damn article is so bad that it’s physically painful for me to even read another word!” you exclaimed, your voice a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “The terrible writing doesn’t make any sense, and it’s making me physically cringe!”

Jason couldn’t help but chuckle at your passionate reaction. It was one of the many things he adored about you—your ability to get so deeply invested, even in the little things. ‘Adorable,’ he thought.

Without missing a beat, he gently took the phone from your hands, setting it aside on the coffee table. “How about we take a break, hm?” he suggested, his voice softening as he pulled you closer to his chest. He felt the tension in your body, and he wanted nothing more than to ease it.

As he wrapped his arms around you, he began to massage the back of your neck, right under your skull. He could feel the knots in your muscles, and he focused on working them out, hoping it would help you relax a little. “Just close your eyes and focus on me,” he said, his voice a calming whisper.

You obliged, your eyelids fluttering shut as you leaned into him. Jason took a moment to appreciate how close you were, the warmth of your body against his. It felt right. He could feel the weight of the world lift slightly as he held you, and he wanted to share that feeling with you.

“Okay, so let me tell you about this one time my teammates and I got into some serious trouble,” he began, his tone light and playful. “We were all out on a mission, right? And B’s detective instincts kicked in. He decided to investigate a lead at a karaoke bar—of all places.”

You opened one eye slightly, the corners of your mouth twitching as you fought back a smile.

“Yeah, I know. What were we thinking?” Jason continued, grinning now. “We thought we’d blend in, but it turns out I can’t carry a tune to save my life. I ended up butchering ‘I Will Survive’ so badly that I think I left half the crowd in tears. But not the good kind! I think I actually lost my street cred that night.”

At that, you let out a soft laugh, the tension in your body slowly melting away. Jason felt a rush of warmth in his chest, knowing he was bringing you some joy amid your earlier frustration.

“And then there was the time we tried to do a stealth operation in a library,” he continued, his voice animated. “I swear, the librarian had ears like a bat. She caught us sneaking in and kicked us out faster than you can say ‘shhh!’” His smile widened at the sound of your giggles.

Jason leaned back, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he prepared to share another story. "Alright, babe, here's one that'll really get you laughing. It's about the time we had to infiltrate a high-society gala," he began, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"So, we're all decked out in tuxedos, right? Me, Dick, and Tim. We figured we'd blend in with the crowd and gather intel on some shady dealings happening in the upper crust of Gotham. But it turns out, none of us really know how to act at a fancy event."

You shifted closer, intrigued, your earlier frustrations forgotten.

"First off, Dick tries to impress everyone by ordering the most expensive champagne on the menu. You know how he is with his charm. So, he's chatting up this socialite while Tim and I are standing awkwardly in the corner, trying to look sophisticated. But then, Dick leans back, trying to look all suave, and—bam!—he spills the champagne all over the lady's designer dress!"

You burst into laughter, picturing the scene. "No way!"

"Totally," Jason continued, chuckling at the memory. "The look on her face was priceless. She was ready to toss him out on his ass, but instead, he just starts apologizing profusely, making it worse. Classic Dick, right? Always smooth until he isn't."

He paused for effect, enjoying your reaction. "But wait, it gets better. So, while Dick's trying to salvage his dignity, Tim decides it's a great time to show off his 'master of disguise' skills. He found this ridiculous fake mustache and thought he could fool everyone by pretending to be a waiter. He even practiced his 'may I take your order' line."

"No!" you exclaimed, covering your mouth in disbelief.

"Oh yes," Jason laughed, shaking his head. "He walks up to this group of ladies, mustache all crooked, and asks if they need anything. But instead of playing it cool, he trips over his own feet and spills a tray of hors d'oeuvres everywhere! It was like a scene out of a comedy movie. Food flying, ladies shrieking—it was chaos!"

You were practically in stitches now, leaning against him as you laughed.

"And the best part?" Jason added, wiping a tear from his eye. "The host of the gala was a known crime boss. So, when the food went flying, he stood up, furious, and threw Tim out of the event. We barely escaped!"

You looked up at him, still giggling. "You guys are a total mess!"

"Hey, what can I say?" Jason shrugged playfully. "We might be heroes, but we can't do everything right. Sometimes, you just have to laugh at yourself—and try not to spill any champagne next time!"

You chuckled again, this time more freely, your laughter a sweet sound that made Jason’s heart swell. “Are you an angel?” you teased, your voice light and playful.

He smirked, brushing his fingers through your hair. “Nah, just a guy trying to keep his love from losing their mind over bad grammar.”

As he spoke, he could feel you relaxing against him, the tension fading like mist in the morning sun. He loved these moments—the little pieces of life where he could be there for you, bringing comfort and laughter.

“Just remember,” he said softly, “sometimes you’ve gotta let the bad writing go. Focus on the good stuff, like this,” he added, gesturing between the two of you. “This is what matters.”

You sighed contentedly, your body sinking into his embrace. Jason felt a sense of fulfillment wash over him. He would do anything to see you smile, to ease your worries, even if it meant sharing embarrassing stories about his own life.

In that quiet moment, as you nestled closer against him, he knew he’d always be your anchor, ready to pull you back from the edge whenever you needed it.

Fluff. Yummy nummy.

Om nom nom

ଘ(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕

[fayes-fics]

Ripe, Like Fruit

Pairing: Vampire!Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Set two weeks after Enthralled. Benedict appears on All Hallow’s Eve, and your husband is not home…

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, dirty talk, mentions of blood drinking, bloodplay, cunnilingus, facesitting, creampie & vaginal sex

Word Count: 0.7k

Authors Note: Set in the same world as Enthralled. Just a little scene that came to me last night, so I am posting it for Halloween. If there’s interest, I could write more. @colettebronte kindly gave this a once over. Dividers by @/firefly-graphics. Enjoy! <3

“Where is our fine Doctor tonight?”

Benedict's rich baritone rings out through Dorset House, making you jump. Once again, he has materialised seemingly from the ether. 

“Away,” you explain once you have modulated your breathing. “Tending to a sick patient. We received a visitor on horseback stating that he was urgently needed at Bingley Hall. He took off on our fastest steed not a half hour ago.”

Benedict draws closer, the flames from the nearby fireplace dancing in his eyes as he does so. The room suddenly notches much warmer, even in just your simple silk house dress.

“So… ‘tis just us?” he checks as the hallway clock softly chimes 11pm.

“It would appear so,” you titter, unable to hide your quake of nerves, watching as he glides across the room towards your drinks cabinet.

You have yet to spend time with Benedict without your husband. It has only been a fortnight since you met this man, well creature, well, no, being. 

“Vampire,” he supplies helpfully, raising a laconic brow as your eyes dart to meet his.

Sometimes, you forget he can read your thoughts.

He makes his way back over to you, handing you a glass of wine, dark red, like blood.

“Tis not,” he assures with a crooked smile, once again knowing the contents of your mind. “A toast?”

“To what?” you blurt, drawn to the flash of his incisor glinting in the soft candlelight of your drawing room.

“To us,” he rumbles portentously as he clinks his glass against yours. “Alone at last….” he adds, holding your gaze hypnotically.

He takes a long, indulgent sip, ensuring your eyes track his throat as he swallows the viscous drink, Adam's apple bobbing prominently under alabaster skin.

Something flares in your stomach as you mirror his actions, taking a sip and feeling the weight of his stare upon your jugular vein. Trepidation mixed with arousal, wanton desire, more than a tinge of reckless abandon. You have never given yourself to this man without your husband present. This would be something else entirely.

He takes the wine from you, moving in, smelling of smoke and damp earth, petrichor in human-like form. His nose buries into your hairline, and he takes a deep inhale, scenting you. 

“You always smell so… ripe. Like fruit. Succulent berries awaiting devourment…” 

Just those simple words alone have you trembling for him. You can't help the moan that escapes your lips as he kisses along your jawline, your hands encircling his biceps, the fine black wool of his jacket tickling your palm. A tartness blooming on your tongue that is mesmeric.

“I want to sink my teeth into every inch of your pristine skin…” His voice is decadent and dusky, your heart pounding as he moves to worry your throat. A slight shudder races down your spine as his fang traces your pulsing artery, lightly snagging your skin. “So many things I want to do to you….” he trails off as you find yourself pliant in his arms, under his thrall once again.

He effortlessly turns you around in his arms, crowding into your back. The press of his rigid cock into the cleft of your bum is unmistakable. His mouth works its way across the top of your exposed shoulder as you pant lightly, every cell in your body thronging for him to take you, make you his again, as you have been ever since that fateful night. 

“I want to hold you down and drink from you and fuck you, then do it all again. I want to taste my seed dripping from inside you. I want to bite your thigh while you writhe upon my face after we fuck. Your blood, your cum and mine, I want to taste it all….”

His filthy soliloquy has you barely able to stand, swooning back into his solid mass, needing every filthy, debauched thing he promises. A large hand stoops low, gathering your dress until he can run his cool palm up your quivering thigh, not stopping until he is cupping your bare, soaked cunt.

“What do you say, my goddess? Will you permit me? ‘Tis All Hallows Eve after all…..”

Who are you to resist?

masterlist • wips • taglist (follow this blog to be tagged)

No taglist, as this is so short.

[ethereangel222]

first, your writing is amazing. second, the all yours series literally got me giggling and kicking my feet. it is so romantic yet so hot. would you consider writing a spicy part three where the reader sits in cooper’s lap while nicholas gives her the world’s greatest head and cooper is whispering praises in her ear the whole time while giving her hickeys and groping her? bonus if coop is holding one of her hands and nicholas is holding the other. that is if you’re comfortable with that, so it’s no pressure!

all yours (part iii)

nicholas alexander chavez & cooper koch x fem!reader

part i | part ii

cw nsfw!!! no build-up straight to the point a/n oh i love this request so much!!! didn't know what to write for part 3 and here it is.

Reblogs are highly appreciated.

The apartment was steeped in a dim, amber glow, casting everything in soft shadows as you sank into Cooper’s lap, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat against you. The air around you was heavy, thickened by a tension that made every touch, every breath feel deeper, more deliberate. His hands gripped your waist with an intensity that sent warmth radiating through you, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin, securing you against him, his hold steady and possessive.

“You love this, don’t you?” he whispered, leaving a warm trail as he leaned close, his lips just grazing your neck. He didn’t rush, letting his mouth linger in a barely-there kiss, teasing you as he felt the subtle shift in your body against his. His fingers slipped under the edge of your shirt, gliding over the skin beneath with an unhurried confidence, moving higher, each inch he covered making your skin tingle with anticipation.

As his hands reached higher, his thumbs traced the outline of your ribs, then rose further, teasing along the edge of your bra. His fingers pressed in just enough to make you arch, each slow, deliberate movement deepening your need. Finally, he cupped your chest, his hands warm and grounding, fingers pressing just enough to elicit a quiet gasp. He smiled, satisfied, as his thumbs brushed lazy circles over your nipples, slow and teasing, coaxing soft, involuntary movements from you as he continued his rhythm.

“That's it," he cooed. "You're doing so well, just like that. I love seeing you like this.”

Meanwhile, below, Nicholas was on his knees between your legs, his hands warm and strong as they travelled along your thighs, fingers pressing firmly into your skin, spreading you wider. His dark eyes held a glint of mischief as he glanced up, his smirk as confident as his touch, his hands guiding you as he lowered his mouth, his breath warm and taunting against your skin. His mouth began its slow journey, pressing light, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, inching closer, each kiss deliberate, each movement filled with intention.

“You look incredible like this,” he flashed you a playful smirk, his hands tightening around your thighs, grounding you, each movement building the tension further. As his mouth reached the tender skin at the top of your thigh, he let his lips hover, teasing, making you wait, before finally pressing a warm kiss that made you gasp, your body tensing as he began his slow, meticulous work.

His mouth moved with an unhurried rhythm, each touch of his tongue precise, flicking over you with a gentleness that belied the intensity in his gaze. He looked up occasionally, eyes locking with yours, a dark satisfaction playing across his face as he felt your body responding, each subtle shiver and sigh urging him on. His tongue continued its languid rhythm, each flick slow and intentional, sending waves of pleasure that grew with each passing second.

Then, his fingers slid up, brushing over you with a teasing lightness before pressing firmly, his hand steady as he slipped one finger inside, filling you with a slow, steady pressure that left you gasping. His pace was measured, exploring every inch with a gentle insistence, his fingers curling just enough to make you moan as he found that sensitive spot. Nicholas’s smirk deepened as he added a second finger, pressing deeper, his rhythm growing more insistent as he worked in perfect sync with his mouth, each movement building you higher.

Above, Cooper’s fingers traced along the curve of your waist before moving to your hand, entwining his fingers with yours, grounding you as the sensations intensified. His grip was steady, anchoring, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in gentle circles, his presence a quiet, comforting counterpoint to the intensity below. He leaned in, his mouth brushing over your shoulder, leaving a warm trail as he pressed soft, lingering kisses along your skin. “Every single inch of you is ours tonight,” he murmured, his lips grazing along the side of your neck, each touch deepening the tension.

“That’s it, love,” he whispered close to your ear, “Just let yourself go. You’re perfect. So, so perfect.” His hand held yours tightly, grounding you as he continued, “You feel incredible—don’t hold anything back for us.”

Nicholas’ other hand found your free one, his fingers intertwining with yours as he looked up, the same dark, satisfied glint in his gaze. He held your hand firmly, his grip grounding you as his mouth and fingers moved with relentless precision, each touch designed to push you higher, to draw out every response. His fingers curled, pressing deeper, each movement deliberate, every flick of his tongue and press of his lips drawing you closer.

“Just like that,” he mumbled against your wetness, sending vibrations throughout your body, his gaze locked with yours, his rhythm steady and unyielding. The pressure built, every touch, every movement combining until the tension reached its breaking point. Cooper’s grip tightened around your hand, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your skin, grounding you, his other hand brushing over your chest, adding a subtle thrill that heightened each sensation.

With each movement, Nicholas drew you closer to the edge, his touch consuming, each stroke pushing you higher until it was impossible to hold back. Finally, the release crashed over you, a surge of overwhelming pleasure that left you breathless, every muscle tensing as the sensation pulsed through every part of you, consuming, unrelenting. His fingers slowed, drawing out every last wave as his eyes held yours, watching as the pleasure washed over you, leaving you trembling and completely undone in their embrace.

Cooper’s hand tightened around yours, anchoring you, his fingers still entwined with yours as his other hand gently moved over your chest, a comforting, steady presence, “You did so well. That was beautiful.” Nicholas’ grip on your other hand held you steady, the warmth of his touch grounding you as the waves of sensation slowly ebbed, leaving you surrounded and entirely held, their combined presence filling the room with an intensity that left you breathless.

tags: @blackynsupremacy @wanderingwnderland @urdreamgirl12 @bigbaddie45 @minaamhh @piewmeow @writergiih

[amethystarachnid]

Hi! I absolutely love your work sooo much (especially “LAZY DAY” with Tony) 🥹💕 If it’s okay, could you write a fluff story of Tony and shy fem reader?

This is just an example... She tends to hold back from telling Tony how she really feels, even when she needs him, because she doesn't want to be a bother (even though he’d love to be there for her). One day, she came home feeling down after a long, exhausting day at work without saying a word. But Tony, always so tuned in to her, noticed right away and cheered her up with sweet words, lots of praise, and warm hugs ❤️

Sorry if this is a weird request, and I’m just a beginner in English! Thank you so much for your amazing work 🥰

SAFE ARMS

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance fluff, tiny bit of angst but more comfort

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5k

ᯓ★ Summary: you aren't used to ask for help, always scared to be a bother for the people around you, but your boyfriend, Tony Stark himself, is ready to change that.

ᯓ★ TW(s): reader is insecure but nothing that need a tw

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The sun is just beginning to peek through the blinds when you wake up, casting soft, golden beams across Tony’s penthouse. Everything here is sleek, modern, and feels like it belongs in a world you’re still getting used to. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that this is your home now, not just some temporary stay in Tony Stark’s glamorous life.

You turn in bed, expecting to find him beside you. But the sheets are cold, and you know what that means: he’s already up, probably buried in his lab, tinkering with some new piece of tech or fussing over another upgrade to one of his suits. The thought brings a small smile to your face, but it also settles a familiar ache in your chest.

Living with Tony is both exciting and intimidating. He’s never made you feel anything less than wanted here, even if his world feels overwhelming. Even though he’s Tony Stark—a genius, a billionaire, Iron Man—he’s somehow managed to make you feel like you belong in his universe. And yet, there’s a shyness that sticks to you, holding you back from fully opening up. It's not that you don’t trust him; it’s just… well, you’re afraid of being too much, of being a burden, of pulling him away from things that feel so much bigger than you.

You tell yourself that this is the reason you don’t go looking for him right now. After all, he’s probably working on something important; he wouldn’t want to be interrupted. Right?

With a small sigh, you roll out of bed, pulling one of his oversized hoodies around your shoulders. The familiar smell of him, a mix of his cologne and the faint metallic tang of his workshop, wraps around you like a comforting hug. It helps, a little.

Your bare feet make almost no sound as you pad through the penthouse, moving toward the kitchen. A small army of coffee machines stands proudly on the countertop—Tony has never been subtle about his obsession with caffeine. You pick the espresso machine, going through the motions of making yourself a cup and trying not to think about how empty the kitchen feels without him here.

You sip your coffee in silence, leaning against the counter, your thoughts drifting back to last night. Tony had been working late, as usual, and by the time he came to bed, you’d already been half asleep. You hadn’t even really said goodnight. It’s a small thing, but it gnaws at you now, the missed chance to tell him how much he means to you.

As you finish your coffee, you hear a faint hum from downstairs—the familiar, low buzz of Tony’s lab. You can almost picture him there, leaning over one of his projects, brow furrowed in concentration, the soft glow of his tech casting a blue light over his face.

Before you realize what you’re doing, you’re halfway to the lab, hugging his hoodie close. You stop just before the entrance, heart pounding in your chest. You don’t want to bother him. What if he’s in the middle of something crucial?

You turn, ready to head back upstairs, but then you hear his voice.

“You know, you can come in, right?” His tone is light, teasing. You don’t even have to see his face to know he’s smirking.

You feel your cheeks heat up. Caught. But the way he says it makes you feel a little bolder, like maybe it’s okay to want his company.

Stepping into the lab, you find him exactly as you imagined, bent over a small arc reactor, wires and tools scattered around him. He glances up as you walk in, and his smirk softens into a warm smile.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he says, setting his tools down and straightening up. “Come to help me save the world?”

You chuckle, hugging yourself a little tighter. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Lucky for you, I do,” he teases, stepping closer. He reaches out, a gentle hand tilting your chin up so he can look at you fully. “But, honestly, I’d much rather spend my morning with you.”

His eyes are soft, a little tired, but the way he looks at you never fails to make your heart race. Even after all this time together, it’s hard to believe someone like him could look at you like that, like you’re the most important person in the world.

“Don’t you have… things to do?” You gesture toward the scattered tools, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips at his touch.

“Plenty,” he says, shrugging as if it’s the least important thing. “But I can make time. For you? Always.”

You swallow, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm blanket. He says things like that all the time, so casually, but you know he means them. And yet, you can’t quite shake the nagging feeling that you don’t deserve it, that you’re just a distraction from the incredible work he does every day.

Tony watches you, his expression softening even more as he picks up on your hesitation. He’s always been able to read you so easily, seeing right through the walls you try to keep up.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his hand moving to cup your cheek, thumb brushing softly along your skin. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You want to tell him, to explain all the things you keep buried—the doubts, the fears, the overwhelming feeling that you’re somehow out of place here, with him. But the words stick in your throat, too heavy to push out.

“It’s nothing,” you say instead, forcing a smile. “I just… didn’t want to bother you.”

His brow furrows, and he studies you in that intense way he has, like he’s trying to decipher a complicated equation. “Bother me?” he repeats, a hint of disbelief coloring his voice. “You could never bother me, sweetheart. You know that, right?”

“I just… you’re always so busy,” you say, your voice quieter than you’d like. “And I know what you do is important. I don’t want to distract you.”

He sighs, his hand dropping from your cheek to take your hand instead, his fingers wrapping around yours warmly. “You’re not a distraction,” he says, his voice low and earnest. “If anything, you’re what keeps me grounded. Reminds me why I do all this in the first place.”

You look down at your joined hands, your heart aching with how much you want to believe him. But that small voice in the back of your mind—the one that insists you don’t belong in his world—won’t quite quiet.

He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles, and you finally meet his gaze. There’s something raw and vulnerable in his eyes, something that reassures you that, despite all his bravado, he really means every word.

“Besides,” he says, breaking the silence with a soft smile, “I could use a little distraction now and then. Keeps things interesting.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound slipping out before you can stop it. He grins, clearly pleased with himself for coaxing a laugh out of you, and pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“See?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead. “This is exactly what I mean. I need this. I need you.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly undoes you. You lean into him, letting his warmth seep into you, and feel some of the tension begin to melt away. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you’re allowed to want him, to need him. It’s not something you’re used to, but he makes it feel… okay.

“Thank you,” you whisper, the words feeling inadequate but all you can manage. He seems to understand, his hold on you tightening slightly.

“Anytime,” he replies, his voice soft. “You don’t have to thank me, you know. I like being here for you.”

As you stand there, wrapped in his arms, you feel a familiar swell of warmth and contentment. It’s easy to forget about the doubts when you’re here with him, when he holds you like you’re his whole world. You want to stay like this forever, to keep him close and hold onto this feeling.

After a few moments, he pulls back slightly, looking down at you with a gentle smile. “How about we get some breakfast?” he suggests, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Unless you’re in the mood for some early-morning science experiments.”

You shake your head, smiling. “Breakfast sounds nice.”

He nods, taking your hand in his and leading you toward the kitchen. You don’t miss the way he keeps his hand on yours, his thumb tracing soft patterns along your skin, as if he’s reminding you that he’s here, that he’s not going anywhere.

In the kitchen, he moves around easily, gathering ingredients, cracking jokes about his questionable cooking skills, though you know he’s actually a pretty decent cook when he puts his mind to it. You watch him, a soft smile playing on your lips as he makes his way through the routine with a surprising amount of focus.

As you sit together, sipping coffee and sharing bites of scrambled eggs, the silence between you is comfortable. And for once, you don’t feel like you need to say anything more. His presence alone is enough to chase away any lingering doubts, even if only for a little while.

You walk through the front door, shoulders slumped, heels clicking softly against the floor as you make your way into the penthouse. The apartment is dimly lit, a golden glow spilling from the tall floor lamps that line the hallway, giving the whole space a quiet, warm ambience. But tonight, the usual comfort it offers feels far away, unreachable. Work had been a marathon of stress—a heavy, seemingly unending to-do list combined with a particularly harsh round of feedback from your boss. All you want is to disappear into bed and leave this day behind.

As you move into the living room, your tired eyes scan the familiar space, hoping Tony’s already in his lab or engrossed in some project. It’s not that you don’t want to see him. You do, more than anything. But you feel raw, your emotions precariously close to spilling over, and you don’t want to worry him with this heavy weight you’re carrying. You tell yourself it’s better if you deal with it alone.

But, like always, Tony surprises you.

You’re barely three steps in when you hear him. “Hey, gorgeous.” His voice is low, gentle, and immediately makes you stop in your tracks. You look over, and there he is, standing by the kitchen island, casually leaning against it with his usual effortless charm, a small smile tugging at his lips.

His gaze softens as he takes in your appearance. You’re not exactly hiding how tired you are, and the moment he sees the weariness etched on your face, his expression shifts. His smile fades, replaced by a look of concern.

He’s in front of you before you even realize it, his hands reaching out to rest gently on your shoulders. “Tough day?” he asks softly, his thumb stroking comfortingly along your arm.

You nod, swallowing down the lump that’s been building in your throat. “Something like that,” you manage, trying to force a small smile, but it barely reaches your eyes.

Tony’s brows knit together, and he studies you intently for a moment, taking in every detail, every sign of exhaustion, of stress. He knows you well enough to see through the act, to recognize the way your shoulders slump just a little more than usual, the slight downturn of your mouth that you’re trying to hide.

Without a word, he slips one arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, and with his other hand, he cradles the back of your head, holding you to his chest. His scent—clean, with that hint of metal and machinery that always lingers around him—fills your senses, and you let out a shuddering breath, finally allowing yourself to relax, if only a little.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice a warm rumble against your ear. “You’re home now. You don’t have to keep it together here.”

The words are simple, but the way he says them, so soft and sincere, chips away at the wall you’ve built around yourself today. Your shoulders sag, and before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning fully into him, letting his strength hold you up.

Tony’s hand rubs soothing circles along your back, and you can feel him swaying slightly, as though he’s rocking you, trying to melt away the tension that clings to you.

“You know, I was going to ask about your day,” he says, his tone light, almost playful. “But something tells me it wasn’t exactly a five-star experience.”

A humorless laugh escapes you, and you nod against his chest. “That’s putting it mildly.”

“Thought so.” He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands moving to cup your face. His thumbs brush away a stray tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen, and his eyes meet yours, full of a warmth that feels like it’s wrapping around you, even more comforting than the physical closeness.

“Listen,” he says, his voice dropping to that low, intimate tone that he reserves only for you, “you know you’re incredible, right? Like… undeniably, unbeatably, ridiculously amazing.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes a little, even as your lips twitch into a tiny smile. “Tony…”

“No, no, don’t ‘Tony’ me,” he interrupts, grinning slightly. “I’m serious. They’re lucky to have you. They’re damn lucky. And if they can’t see that, then they clearly don’t know what they’re doing.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart ache in the best way, and you feel another tear slip down your cheek. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. It’s all you can manage, but the gratitude in those two words is enough to make him lean forward and press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Come here.” He guides you over to the couch, still holding you close. He sits down first, then pulls you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you as if he can shield you from all the worries of the world. “Now, I want you to tell me everything, but first… let’s get you a little more comfortable, okay?”

With a gentle tug, he pulls a soft throw blanket around your shoulders, tucking it securely around you. You settle against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours, and let out a long, shaky breath.

For a few minutes, you don’t say anything. Tony doesn’t push, doesn’t try to make you talk. He simply holds you, his fingers running soothingly through your hair, tracing little patterns along your shoulder. Slowly, bit by bit, the tension that’s been coiled tightly within you begins to unwind.

Finally, you begin to tell him about your day, about the endless meetings and the impossible deadlines and the feeling that no matter how much you give, it’s never quite enough. You tell him about the criticism, the way it felt like a blow to the chest, and how you’d spent the rest of the day doubting yourself, questioning if you were really cut out for this job.

He listens, his face a mixture of empathy and frustration, his hand never stopping its comforting rhythm. When you finish, he’s quiet for a moment, his gaze intense as he processes everything you’ve told him.

“Alright, first of all,” he begins, his voice firm but gentle, “none of this—none of it—means you’re anything less than extraordinary. I know it’s hard to see that right now, but you need to know it. You’re one of the most capable, hardworking, and downright brilliant people I know, and anyone who says otherwise clearly doesn’t know what they’re talking about.”

A tear slips down your cheek, and Tony wipes it away, his thumb lingering on your skin. “I mean it,” he continues, his tone softening. “You’re allowed to have bad days, but don’t ever think that one rough day—or even a hundred—defines who you are. You’re incredible, and you don’t have to prove that to anyone.”

You can’t help the small, shaky smile that tugs at your lips. “Thank you, Tony. I… I needed to hear that.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “Good. Because I’m not done yet.”

You chuckle, feeling the weight on your chest ease a little more. He shifts slightly, so you’re facing him, his hands still cradling your face as he looks at you with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“I need you to know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “that you’re not alone in this. You have me, always. And I’ll be here, on the days that feel impossible and the days that feel amazing and every single day in between. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself, okay?”

The tears come more freely now, but this time, they’re mixed with relief, with gratitude, with the overwhelming feeling of being truly seen, truly loved. “Thank you,” you whisper again, your voice breaking slightly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Good thing you’ll never have to find out,” he replies, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips.

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, lingering kiss, as if he’s pouring all the reassurance, all the comfort, all the love he has for you into that one, tender moment. You sink into it, feeling your worries and doubts melt away, if only for a little while.

When he pulls back, he studies your face, brushing his thumb along your cheek. “How about a little pampering tonight?” he suggests, his tone warm, playful. “You’ve had a rough day, and I happen to have a few ideas for how to make it better.”

A small laugh escapes you, and you nod, leaning your forehead against his. “That sounds… perfect.”

He grins, kissing the tip of your nose before he stands, carefully lifting you in his arms. You let out a surprised laugh, clinging to his shoulders as he carries you into the bathroom. He sets you down gently, and you watch as he begins filling the large, luxurious bathtub with warm water, adding your favorite bath oils, the ones that smell like lavender and vanilla.

When he’s done, he turns to you, his eyes warm and gentle. “Go on,” he says, nodding toward the tub. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

You smile, the weight on your chest almost completely lifted now, and slip into the warm, soothing water. As you sink down, feeling the stress and tension dissolve, you can’t help but feel a sense of overwhelming gratitude for him, for his love, for the way he always seems to know exactly what you need.

After a while, you hear a soft knock on the door,

and you smile as Tony peeks in, holding a cup of tea in one hand and a book in the other. “Thought you might want some company,” he says, his voice soft and tentative, as though he’s giving you the option to say no.

“Come on in,” you reply, your heart warming at the sight of him.

He sits on the edge of the tub, placing the tea within reach, and opens the book, reading softly to you as you soak. His voice is a comforting background, and you close your eyes, letting the words wash over you.

When you finally step out of the bath, he’s there, wrapping a towel around you and pulling you into his arms once more. “Feel a little better?” he asks, his tone gentle.

You nod, smiling up at him. “A lot better, actually. Thank you, Tony. For… everything.”

He brushes a damp strand of hair from your face, his expression tender. “Anytime, sweetheart. You’re worth it. Every single bit.”

In that moment, you know that no matter how hard the days get, you’ll never have to face them alone. And that’s more than enough.

Over time, something shifts within you. At first, it’s subtle—a moment here and there where you catch yourself hesitating, wondering if you should share your thoughts, your concerns, the little pieces of your day that feel too insignificant to mention. But then you remember the way Tony looked at you that night, the way he held you close, told you you’d never be a bother to him, and slowly, that hesitance starts to fade.

The shift is gradual, like the way daylight slowly warms the early morning sky. You don’t wake up one day suddenly unburdened by your worries. Instead, it’s the little things, small instances where you catch yourself reaching out, sharing something with him that you might have once kept to yourself. And each time, his response is the same—warm, attentive, and never anything but patient. The more you share, the more you feel a weight you hadn’t even realized you were carrying begin to lift.

One evening, after another long day, you’re sitting on the couch, thumbing absently through your phone, waiting for him to finish up in the lab. Normally, you’d keep to yourself, not wanting to intrude on his work time. But tonight, something is different. You remember the way he’d told you he wanted to know everything, even the little things, and you feel a gentle nudge inside yourself to let him in, to trust that he means it.

So, instead of waiting in silence, you pick up your phone and shoot him a quick message:

“Hey, I’m out here missing you. How’s it going in the lab?”

It’s a small step, but it feels significant. Not even a minute later, you hear his phone chime, followed by the sound of his quick footsteps coming down the hall. He appears in the doorway, wiping his hands on a towel, a curious grin on his face.

“You missing me, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes alight with playful warmth. “Well, in that case, the lab can wait.”

You laugh, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. He crosses the room and sits beside you, slipping an arm around your shoulders as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. The fact that you reached out, that you asked for him instead of waiting in silence, feels like another small triumph, a step toward something better, something more open.

Over the next few weeks, you find yourself testing this new sense of freedom more and more. At first, it’s little things—telling him about a frustrating conversation at work, venting about the coworker who talks too loudly on phone calls, or sharing a funny meme that you know will make him laugh. He listens, reacts, and responds with the same steady interest, the same comforting warmth, as if there’s nothing in the world he’d rather do than sit and hear you talk about your day.

Then, on a quiet Saturday night, you reach another milestone without even realizing it. You’re lying together on the couch, your head resting on his chest as he absentmindedly traces patterns along your arm. You feel safe, calm, and in a moment of vulnerability, you decide to share a worry that’s been nagging at you.

“Tony,” you begin, hesitating as you search for the right words. He hums, a gentle sound of encouragement, his gaze steady on you as he waits for you to continue.

“I’ve been… worrying about my performance at work,” you admit softly. “I know I do a good job, but sometimes I feel like I’m not as capable as everyone thinks. Like, any day now, they’re going to figure out I’m a fraud.”

You’d never have admitted this before, would have held it tight, afraid that voicing it would make it real. But here, in his arms, under his reassuring gaze, you feel safe enough to let it out.

He doesn’t respond right away, and for a moment, you worry that you’ve said too much, that maybe this is one of those things he doesn’t want to hear. But then, he shifts, sitting up slightly so he can look directly into your eyes.

“You’re serious?” he asks, his voice laced with genuine surprise. “Y/N, that couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re incredibly talented—you’re doing a great job because you are great at what you do. Do you have any idea how impressive you are to me?”

You bite your lip, feeling the usual wave of doubt, but his words are grounding, steadying you. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze filled with a sincerity that makes your heart race.

“And even if you did stumble—because let’s be real, everyone does sometimes—you’d still be amazing. You’re allowed to have moments of doubt, but don’t let them make you forget how incredibly talented you are.” He pulls you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Besides, anyone who can put up with me is automatically a superhero in my book.”

His lightheartedness draws a laugh from you, and you feel a weight lift from your shoulders. His faith in you is unwavering, and bit by bit, you find yourself starting to believe in it, too.

After that, opening up becomes a little easier. When you’re feeling overwhelmed, instead of bottling it up, you find yourself seeking him out, talking things through rather than sitting in silence. You start leaving little notes for him around the house—sticky notes on his desk, text messages while he’s working, small reminders of the way you feel, of your gratitude and love.

One evening, after an especially stressful day, you come home and immediately collapse onto the couch, letting out a long sigh. Tony’s head pops around the corner a moment later, a curious grin on his face.

“Rough day?” he asks, coming over to sit beside you, his hand immediately finding yours.

You nod, squeezing his hand. “One of those days where nothing went right,” you admit, sinking into the couch with a groan. Normally, you’d put on a brave face, act as though it didn’t bother you, but tonight, you feel safe enough to let him see the truth.

He chuckles softly, pulling you into his side. “Well, lucky for you, I have the perfect solution,” he announces, his voice filled with that familiar mischief.

Before you can ask what he means, he’s standing up, tugging you along with him into the kitchen. He moves around with practiced ease, grabbing ingredients from the fridge and pantry as he explains his plan.

“We’re making pizza from scratch,” he declares, rolling up his sleeves. “Trust me, nothing takes the edge off a bad day like smashing some dough around. Plus, I happen to know a certain someone who loves pizza.”

You laugh, feeling a flicker of excitement push back against the fatigue. Together, you roll out the dough, sprinkle on toppings, and laugh as flour ends up on both of your faces. It’s messy, fun, and by the time the pizza is in the oven, you realize you’ve completely forgotten about your bad day.

As the pizza bakes, you sit at the kitchen island, resting your head on your hand, watching him with a soft smile. The gratitude you feel in this moment is almost overwhelming, and for once, you don’t hold back.

“Thank you, Tony,” you say softly, reaching out to take his hand. “For… for all of this. For always being there.”

He looks at you, his expression shifting from playful to sincere in an instant. “Always,” he promises, giving your hand a squeeze. “And, hey, thanks for letting me be there. I love that you’re opening up to me more. It means a lot.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. It’s a reminder that this is a two-way street, that your openness matters to him as much as his support does to you.

The more time passes, the more natural it becomes. You talk about everything now—your fears, your hopes, your triumphs, and your failures. The walls you’d once held up so carefully have crumbled, replaced by a new sense of trust and security that you never thought possible.

One night, you find yourself lying in bed beside him, staring up at the ceiling in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. He’s already half-asleep, his breathing slow and even, but you reach over, slipping your hand into his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Hey, Tony?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He stirs, squeezing your hand in return. “Yeah?”

There’s a long pause as you gather your thoughts, trying to find the words to express the depth of your gratitude. “I just… I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. For… helping me feel safe enough to be myself with you.”

He turns toward you, his eyes soft and filled with a tenderness that takes your breath away. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that,” he says, his voice gentle. “I love you for exactly who you are. And I’m just glad you’re letting me in.”

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close. In his embrace, you feel a profound sense of belonging, a feeling of being loved and accepted completely, and for the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to believe it fully.

if you liked the story leave a like and a reblog and drop a follow if you want to read more! <3

[iamgonnagetyouback]

hii!! first of all, i just wanna say i love your writing so so so much and you seem soo sweet <<33

i don't know if this is too vague to ask, or if you even do headcanons, but do you think you could do a few headcanons about a hufflepuff reader with Theodore nott? like what he thought of her when they first met, and how it progressed to him falling in love with her? If that's okay!!

headcannons for theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

⋆ You first met Theo on a breezy autumn afternoon in the library, your arms loaded with books on magical plants, as he watched you from the corner of his eye.

⋆ He thought you were a bit odd, with dirt smudges on your nose from Herbology and a stack of books that nearly hid your entire face, yet somehow, it made you interesting.

⋆ You noticed his gaze and gave him a small, polite smile, not expecting him to look away so quickly, cheeks faintly pink.

⋆ At first, he thought you were annoyingly friendly – always smiling at everyone in the corridors, always holding doors open, even for Slytherins.

⋆ But every time you’d pass him, you’d offer him that warm, dimpled smile, and he’d feel his usual scowl soften, just slightly.

⋆ One day, you handed him a book he'd been eyeing from across the library, and he raised an eyebrow, surprised you’d noticed.

⋆ “I thought you might want this,” you said with a shrug, as if it was nothing. He didn’t know why his heart skipped.

⋆ Theo told himself you were just a typical Hufflepuff, a bit too sunny, a bit too warm – until he started missing that warmth whenever you weren’t around.

⋆ You’d linger after Potions class, chatting with Professor Slughorn about magical herbs, and Theo found himself waiting in the hall, wondering what was taking you so long.

⋆ Slowly, you became his soft escape from the world; your presence felt like a cozy blanket, and he couldn’t help but relax whenever you were nearby.

⋆ He noticed how you always shared your notes with others, even with people who barely acknowledged you, and his respect for you grew.

⋆ Theo’s walls started crumbling bit by bit every time you’d stop him in the halls, offering him chocolate or complimenting his quiet observations in class.

⋆ One afternoon, you caught him sneaking glances at you during lunch and simply smiled, as if you’d known all along – it drove him mad in the best way.

⋆ He found himself offering you his scarf on a cold day, surprising even himself, and was too embarrassed to take it back when you gratefully accepted.

⋆ You started meeting up more frequently to study together, and somehow, it always ended in you sharing childhood stories while he listened, captivated.

⋆ One day, he caught himself staring at the way your nose crinkled when you laughed and realized he didn’t want anyone else to see that smile but him.

⋆ By the time he realized he was in love with you, you were already woven into his everyday life, and he couldn’t imagine a day without you there.

⋆ He finally admitted it to himself after you’d hugged him on a particularly hard day, making his heart feel like it could burst from the warmth you brought.

⋆ In his mind, you were no longer just a Hufflepuff – you were his Hufflepuff, and he planned to do whatever it took to keep that light in his life forever.

convos that may arise during this period

➺ "So, Theo, if you had to pick a magical creature to keep as a pet, what would it be?" "A dragon," he replies immediately, and you give him a shocked look. "A dragon? You barely tolerate my cat." He smirks. "Your cat tries to eat my shoelaces, it has a personal vendetta. A dragon would at least have some respect."

➺ "You’re so serious all the time, Theo." He raises a brow. "Someone has to be. Besides, one of us needs to keep our feet on the ground." You grin, nudging him. "And one of us needs to pull the other into a dance in the middle of the library." "That’s a horrible idea," he says, looking around warily, but when you hold out your hand, he takes it with a reluctant smile.

➺ "Sometimes I wonder if I annoy you." He looks at you, genuinely surprised. "If you did, you’d be the most tolerable annoying person I know." "Wow, Theo, be still my heart," you deadpan, and he gives a rare chuckle. "I thought you preferred brutal honesty. I mean, that's why you like me, isn’t it?"

➺ "Why do you keep checking my hands, Theo?" "I don't," he lies, looking away quickly. "You definitely do," you laugh, holding your hand out. "Is this because my gloves are too big for me?" He sighs, slipping your glove on properly. "Yes, I have a weird urge to fix them every time."

➺ "I think… I think you make life brighter." Theo raises his eyebrows, caught off guard. "I’m not sure how to respond to that." You grin. "How about ‘Thank you’?" He gives a small smile, looking at you like you’ve thrown him off balance in the best way. "Thank you."

➺ "You know, I used to think you were kind of scary," you admit one day, watching his reaction. He smirks. "Scary?" "Well, yeah," you say, laughing. "You’ve got the brooding thing down." He leans closer, lowering his voice. "Maybe I was just trying to keep a certain Hufflepuff on her toes."

➺ "Do you believe in soulmates, Theo?" you ask quietly. He looks at you, thinking. "No, I don’t think I do." "Oh," you say softly, trying not to look disappointed. He hesitates, then adds, "But I do think… maybe, some people just fit. Perfectly."

thank you so much for the request and the kind words, lovie!! i hope you have a great day <33

[boomballoonmachine]

I’m 10 hours into Veilguard (currently recruiting Lucanis) and as a huge fan of every prior game with a deep love for the series, i just feel defeated. To be fair, the only thing I care about in a game is the quality the writing, and while Veilguard has a lot to recommend it in basically every other way, it has dropped the ball hard here so far. The dialogue is wooden, bland, repetitive, and often badly delivered. I feel no attachment to the characters, least of all my bland Rook. The world and its factions feel two-dimensional with details and personality sanded off. Recurring characters are hollowed-out mascot versions of themselves, except maybe Solas. Codex entries are minimal and straightforward. I guess the diversity is nice, but it feels like a box they checked more than anything, because that’s how everything in this game feels. Nothing surprises, nothing feels natural or spontaneous, nothing breathes.

It isn’t even that I oppose the idea of a more approachable Dragon Age or a soft reboot. I don’t need games to be super dense and edgy. It is just so clear that the writing was a victim of development hell, writer layoffs, and years of aggressive mismanagement by a company that actively loathes needing a creative team. I just keep thinking, if this is the future of Dragon Age - pretty, smooth, fun combat, and about 1 inch deep - I’m fine to let it die. Let it go, move on. This seems to be the kind of game that people play, think “that was nice” and forget about six months later. It isn’t the kind of thing that fuels a decade plus of fandom. It’s a pale imitation of the series I fell in love with and keep loving to this day.

I hope, truly, that I’ve judged it too fast and I’m wrong. But what I’ve played is so, so rough that I’m having trouble even picking it up to keep going. Above all else, it’s just boring. This sucks, man.

[ms-snape]

Ok I have the sweetest idea! Can you please write severus with a female reader who is just fascinated with his long hair and asks to style it for him, nothing crazy but you know bows like lucius or braids

Title: For me?

Warning: None, just pure fluff

Words Count: 1000+

Masterlist

---

In the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where shadows danced in the flickering candlelight, Y/N flitted through the halls like a vibrant breath of fresh air. As the Herbology professor, she was well-versed in nurturing both plants and the students who so often found themselves enchanted by her passion. However, it was not just her lessons that captured the attention of those around her; it was the way she lit up at the mere mention of Severus Snape, the brooding Potions Master with a heart as deep as the dungeons he called home.

Severus, with his raven-black hair that cascaded like a dark waterfall, was a source of quiet intrigue. Though he preferred solitude, he found solace in Y/N’s company. Her laughter echoed like music, warming the cold stone walls of the castle. But there was one aspect of Severus that Y/N simply could not resist—his hair. To her, it was not merely an accessory but a canvas, a tapestry waiting for her gentle hands to weave magic into it.

“Severus, please,” Y/N implored one evening, her eyes sparkling with mischief as they lounged in the cozy confines of their shared place. A fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow that illuminated her face, highlighting the way her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Just let me style it once! I promise you’ll love it.”

Severus raised an eyebrow, his usual expression of stoic annoyance morphing into mild amusement. “I do not believe that would be appropriate, Y/N,” he replied, his voice low and measured, though there was an undeniable softness to his tone. “My hair is not a toy for your amusement.”

With a dramatic pout that could rival even the most skilled of performers, Y/N crossed her arms, her lower lip jutting out in a way that made her look irresistibly adorable. “But it would be so much fun! And you have such beautiful hair! It deserves to be styled, not left to hang limply like a neglected broom.”

Severus fought to suppress a smile, the corners of his mouth betraying him. She had a way of disarming him, of stripping away his defenses with her infectious enthusiasm. “It is merely hair,” he muttered, attempting to maintain his facade of indifference.

“But it’s your hair,” she insisted, her voice rising slightly in excitement. “It has character! Just think of the potential!”

He sighed, knowing full well that her stubbornness would not easily be swayed. “Y/N,” he began, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone, “I hardly see how this is—”

“Just once!” she interrupted, leaning closer, her eyes wide and pleading. “For me?”

For a moment, the world outside their bubble faded away. Severus felt the weight of her gaze on him, filled with an earnestness that tugged at something deep within his chest. He took a breath, allowing himself to be swept up in the moment. “Fine,” he relented, the word escaping his lips almost against his will. “But only for a moment.”

Y/N’s face lit up with unrestrained joy, and in that instant, all of Severus’s reservations melted away like snow beneath the sun. He could not deny her anything when she looked at him like that.

“Yay!” she squealed, her voice a melody of delight. She quickly ushered him to a nearby chair, her hands moving with purpose as she began to untangle the strands of his hair. As her fingers slipped through the silky locks, Severus felt a strange mixture of vulnerability and warmth. He was accustomed to being the one in control, yet here he was, yielding to her playful whims.

“Your hair is so soft,” she remarked, a hint of awe in her voice. “Have you been using that conditioning potion I recommended?”

“Perhaps,” he replied, feigning nonchalance even as he felt his heart rate quicken at her touch. The way she concentrated, her brows slightly furrowed, made her even more endearing. He watched as she sectioned his hair, her movements precise and graceful.

“Now, let’s see,” she murmured to herself, her focus unwavering. “A braid? A twist? No… I know!” With a burst of inspiration, she began to weave his hair into intricate patterns, her fingers dancing like a skilled artist. Severus felt a surge of warmth at her dedication, each tug and pull both comforting and invigorating.

As she worked, they exchanged soft, teasing banter, laughter spilling from their lips like the most precious potion. Y/N’s enthusiasm was contagious, and soon even Severus found himself enjoying the process. She recounted tales of her students’ antics in the greenhouse, her expressive gestures painting vivid images that made him chuckle despite himself.

“I’ve decided this is the look you should adopt,” Y/N announced triumphantly, securing the final braid with a delicate ribbon. She stepped back to admire her handiwork, her eyes sparkling with delight.

Severus caught his reflection in the nearest mirror, and for the first time, he saw something different—something that spoke of connection, of warmth, and of a world beyond the cold, dark potions and brewing shadows that had long defined him. “It appears I have been transformed into a woodland sprite,” he remarked dryly, but the corners of his mouth betrayed the fondness he felt.

Y/N clapped her hands, bouncing on her heels. “You look incredible! I can’t believe you ever doubted this.” She stepped forward, her fingers brushing against his cheek as she leaned in, eyes softening. “I love seeing this side of you.”

In that moment, the air crackled with an unspoken truth. Severus felt an overwhelming swell of affection for her—how she brought light into his otherwise somber existence. Her laughter filled the silence he had grown so accustomed to, and he couldn’t help but admire the way her passion made even the darkest corners of the castle feel alive.

“Perhaps,” he began, the words feeling foreign yet exhilarating on his tongue, “I could tolerate such transformations more often, provided it remains… just between us.”

Y/N beamed, her joy radiant and uncontained. “Deal! But next time, I’m trying out a crown braid!”

As she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder, Severus felt the weight of his walls crumbling further. In her presence, he was not merely the Potions Master; he was something more—something hopeful, something cherished. Together, they sat in the soft glow of the firelight, a tangle of hair and heart, weaving a bond that transcended the very magic of the world around them.

[x-press-it]

The Morning You Needed

If Only You’d Known How Much He Adores You 🎞️❤️‍🔥🌹✅

Worshiping!Logan Howlett x fem reader

Summary: Struggling with executive paralysis, you’re trapped in bed, unable to shake the weight of the morning fog. Logan, noticing your absence, comes looking for you—never expecting to find you lost in a moment of self-care.

Content Warnings: Smut 18+ (Fingering) - Worshiping!Logan - Pet Names (Darling, sweetheart, princess, and more...) - Reader Notes: No Y/N, no physical description of the reader, no mention of powers - Fluff and Emotional Vulnerability: Deep feelings, mutual pining - Worship Themes: Religious imagery and reverent language - Mental Health: Executive Dysfunction - Trope: Coworkers to lovers. I'm back after 10 years of iatus and fairly new to how things are done on tumblr now, so sorry if I missed any warnings. Also english isn't my first language so there might be typos/weird sentences...

Notes: Got that idea during an Executive Paralysis and I absolutely had to write it. I also got inspired by some of @gothgoblinbabe writings. Cover made with canva from an idea I got from this post. Click on the divider to find the creator. Also first text I got to finish quickly and I'm very happy about it.

Word Count: 3.8K

You lay in bed, the world outside your door humming along, oblivious. The clock ticked past noon, each minute gnawing at your sense of urgency. You knew you should get up, throw yourself into whatever needed doing today, but you felt…stuck. It was like this most days, as if your mind held your body hostage, whispering all the reasons to stay still, to ignore the day stretching beyond the safety of your blankets.

An edge of desperation crept in as you stared at the ceiling, urging your limbs to move, but they stayed as heavy as stone. You needed a shock, something to tear through the fog in your mind. And only one thought did that lately: Logan.

Your feelings for him were complicated—a growing crush that left you wishing he could be more than just a coworker or a friend. But that’s all he was. It was foolish, maybe, but the way he’d look at you sometimes made it hard to keep your imagination in check. Just thinking his name sent a warm shiver down your spine, a fire sparking low in your belly. It felt a little shameless—okay, maybe more than a little—but you needed something. So, you let yourself go there, let the memory of his gruff, knowing smile fill your mind, his voice, that low rumble, wrapping around you.

You slid a hand down your body, passing the hem of your panties; finding your clit, fingers grazing your skin, teasing yourself with little touches, hoping for that spark to grow into something strong enough to bring you to the edge and shot something powerful enough to let you get up. But as your fingers worked, moving with practiced rhythm, something was missing. You could feel yourself getting wet, your body reacting, but it wasn’t…enough. The sensation remained dull, just on the edge of pleasure, refusing to give you the relief you needed.

Frustration built, and you let out a soft, needy sigh, the sound of it almost foreign to your own ears. “Logan…” you whispered, his name spilling out on instinct, but even saying it out loud did nothing to stoke the fire. You tried again, a little more insistently, your hand moving faster, pressing harder, but the ache in your chest only grew as the release you needed slipped further away.

“Please…” you whimpered, barely aware of the soft plea in your voice. Your lips parted as you mumbled his name again, breath hitching as if the sound alone could bring him here, could make your fantasies real enough to touch. “Logan… I need you… please…”

The air in the hallway thickened as Logan reached your door, every inch of his body keenly aware of the quiet but unmistakable sounds drifting out from your room. He’d been looking for you, a little concerned when you hadn’t shown up in the dining room with the others, but he hadn’t expected to find you still in bed at this hour. And he sure as hell hadn’t expected…this.

Your voice, hushed and breathy, sent a shock through him, making his fists clench at his sides. The way you murmured his name, as if he were the only thing you needed, tugged at something deep inside him. His jaw tightened as he strained to listen, torn between stepping away and giving you the privacy he’d unintentionally invaded—or giving in to the primal pull to walk in and be exactly what you seemed to need.

A frustrated, desperate sigh escaped your lips, almost a plea, and the scent of your need grew stronger, filling the hallway and his senses until his restraint nearly shattered. Before he knew it, his hand was on the door, pushing it open in a single, decisive motion.

You didn’t hear the creak of your bedroom door until it was too late.

When you opened your eyes, there he was, Logan standing in your doorway, watching you. His expression was intense, raw, the guarded look he usually wore completely gone. You froze, heat flooding your cheeks, but your body betrayed you, heart pounding as you realized he’d heard every word. And he wasn’t moving back.

He took a step inside, closing the door softly behind him, his gaze holding you captive. “Sorry, darlin’,” he murmured, using a nickname you’d never earned from him before, his voice thick, rough around the edges. His eyes roamed over you in a way that made your breath catch—as if he’d been fighting this moment longer than he’d ever admit. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

But the way he looked at you, the way he stayed right there, told you he was anything but sorry.

Recovering from the shock, you jerked your hand away from your panties as if burned, heart pounding and face on fire. Caught didn’t even begin to cover it—you’d been caught fantasizing about him. And it wasn’t just any daydream. You’d let yourself fall into the idea of his hands, his mouth, his low growl against your skin, the thought of his face buried between your thighs driving you wild.

But now he was right there, larger than life, his piercing gaze fixed on you. A wave of panic flooded through you, and you searched for something to say, some way to explain yourself without making it worse, but all the clever words you usually had seemed to vanish. You were always quick with a retort, always strong and sure, but now? Now, you could barely meet his eyes, fumbling for words like a nervous kid.

A soft, “Shh… it’s okay, sweetheart,” rumbled from him, low and soothing as he crossed the room. He wasn’t upset—hell, he didn’t even look surprised. Instead, there was something else in his eyes, something gentler, maybe even…concerned? He settled onto the edge of the bed, the weight dipping beside you as his hand came to rest on your shoulder, thumb brushing in soft, reassuring circles.

You rolled to your side, burying your face in your pillow, wishing the mattress would just swallow you whole. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, voice muffled by the fluffy cushion. You didn’t dare look at him, feeling his warmth beside you, his steady palm now traveling to your shoulder blade.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, voice so soft and kind it almost undid you right there. He started tracing comforting patterns and you could feel the warmth of his hand through your t-shirt. And then he paused, giving you a moment to breathe. “Talk to me, darlin’.”

Here it was again, that nickname you had so desperately wished for and your grip on the pillow tightened, the words slipping out despite yourself. “I… I’m stuck,” you admitted, barely a whisper. “I needed a…boost to… get out of bed.”

The silence settled between you, thick with a mixture of embarrassment and curiosity. You could feel the way he was watching you, his gaze so intense it made your skin prickle.

“Does that happen a lot?” he asked, his voice gentle, almost as if he were talking you through a storm. You nodded, still refusing to look up, knowing how vulnerable this felt. “Almost every morning,” you admitted, the words nearly catching in your throat.

“And… do you make yourself come every time?” His voice was low, but there was a raw, hungry edge to it now that made you ache even more. You felt heat flood your cheeks, the silence between his question and your answer practically crackling.

“Most days,” you said, so softly it was barely more than a breath.

He let that settle, and then, his last question fell, just a hint of roughness in it. “Thinkin’ of me?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. But the sudden warmth at the tips of your ears, the way your face burned, pressing even harder against the pillow, was all the answer he needed. He stayed there, hand still tracing those soft circles on your back, closer than ever, and you could feel every inch of his presence, his silent understanding.

Logan’s hand stilled for a heartbeat, and you could feel him leaning closer, his breath brushing along your temple. “Then let me help you, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice soft and reassuring, the offer lingering between you, unspoken but unmistakable.

The words barely registered. Your mind scrambled to process them as they settled over you like a blanket you hadn’t realized you needed. What? You pushed yourself up on your elbows, eyes wide, almost demanding him to say it again, to prove you hadn’t misheard.

“If that’s what gets you up, then… let me help,” he said, a gentle smile softening his usually hard features as he replaced a strand of your hair behind your ear. He was serious—honest, even. A flicker of something warm and sincere lingered in his eyes, a quiet honor in knowing you reached for thoughts of him in those intimate moments. And yet, you shook your head, feeling a pang of doubt.

“No, Logan,” you murmured, swallowing hard as you pushed away the thought of pity or obligation. “I don’t want you doing this because you feel like you… have to. I don’t want that.”

A moment of silence stretched between you, heavy but not tense, as Logan’s gaze softened even more. “I don’t feel like I have to,” he whispered, voice rough yet impossibly gentle. “I want to. I want to help you.” He let out a breath, barely audible, as his eyes held yours. “I want you.”

Those words, so earnest, so raw, carved straight through you, catching the breath in your chest. You searched his face for anything that might prove it was a lie, a flicker of doubt, anything to suggest he didn’t mean what he’d just confessed. But his gaze remained steady, almost reverent, as though he couldn’t believe his own luck. In that gaze, you saw nothing but honesty, and in that honesty, a hunger that mirrored your own.

“Just tell me what you need, princess,” he murmured, voice deep and devout, making your skin burn. “Tell me, and I’ll do it.”

A rush of heat washed over you as he leaned closer, his breath mingling with yours, and you couldn’t help the warmth that spread between your thighs, the ache for him burning hotter than before. A shiver ran through you, and with a nod, you swallowed, barely managing to whisper, “Touch me…” the desperation clear in your voice. “Kiss me…”

In a heartbeat, his hand was on your face, the roughness of his fingers a gentle caress that grounded you as he tilted your face up toward his. His lips brushed against yours, soft at first, tasting, savoring, and then he sank into the kiss with a low, guttural moan that sent a shock straight through you. The room blurred, everything fading until there was only him, his lips coaxing you, drawing every ounce of want to the surface, and you melted into it, letting the world fall away.

A soft groan escaped your lips as his free hand found your knee, inching up against your thigh, each touch of his fingers sparking under your skin until every nerve felt alert, humming. When he slipped his fingers under the hem of your panties, a shudder tore through you, and before you could even think to hold back, you gasped against his mouth, arching into his touch as his thumb found its way to your clit. The warmth of his fingers was nothing like your own touch—it was electric, hot, setting fire to your senses as he began those slow, teasing circles.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own brimming with something almost tender as he murmured words against your lips. “You’re so beautiful… can hardly keep my eyes off you most days. You drive me crazy, y’know that?”

The confession, paired with his touch, made your skin burn even hotter. You spread your legs a little wider, instinctively inviting him closer, letting him take his time as he pressed warm kisses down your neck, each one sending a fresh wave of heat down your spine. His lips traveled lower, igniting every inch of skin he touched, until he brushed over the thin fabric covering your chest. He paused, and your breath caught as he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss over the peak of your breast through your t-shirt.

Your fingers clutched the sheets under them, gripping hard as his thumb continued its torturously slow circles, your body wriggling beneath him. But as another one of his finger slipped inside you, a moan escaped, deeper, rawer than before. He moved slowly at first, teasing, letting you feel every inch of him, every subtle twist and curl of his fingers. Your whole body tensed, feeling the tension coil tighter and tighter in your belly as a second finger joined in, reaching places you couldn’t on your own, working you in a rhythm that had you quivering under him.

Feeling the building heat, you couldn’t hold back anymore. With a desperate exhale, you reached for the hem of your shirt, tugging it up, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. “Lick…” The single word fell from your lips, soft but insistent—a perfect blend of a plea and an order, the only way you knew how to ask.

A lazy, pleased grin stretched across his face as he lowered himself, meeting your eyes with a flicker of mischief. “Yeah? Whatever you need, sweetheart…”

And then his mouth was on you, his tongue warm and firm as he began to taste the skin of your stomach, teasing, and the sound you made was something you’d never heard from yourself before. It was raw, unguarded, and he took it as permission, his mouth traveling up, his fingers never slowing as he found every spot that made you shudder, that made you melt around him, fully under his spell.

Words started spilling from his mouth as he murmured against your skin like a prayer, his voice thick with reverence as he whispered things you never imagined would pour from his lips. “You’re so damn perfect,” he breathed, the heat of his words sinking into you as his mouth moved over your nipple, his tongue tracing circles, slow and deliberate, leaving you aching, raw with need. His free hand cupped your other breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak in the same worshipful rhythm, his fingers kneading with a gentleness that only made you more breathless.

“Could do this every morning… if you ordered me to,” he murmured, his words laced with devotion, his voice unlike anything you’d ever heard before. The softness, the way he touched you, spoke to you as though you were something holy—it made you shiver.

He paused, lifting his head just enough to meet your gaze. The look in his eyes was nothing short of adoration, and the intensity made your chest tight. “I’d worship you, body and soul, if you wanted me to,” he went on, each word like a promise, thick and raw, like he was saying something forbidden, something sacred. “I’d be content just to be… the dog sleeping at your perfect feet.”

The sheer need in his tone—like he’d surrender everything just for a chance to touch you like this ever again—sent you spiraling. You clung to him, his words igniting something deep within you, a desire that felt endless, consuming. Each touch, each gentle pinch, only drove you closer, made your whole body taut with need.

“You’re a queen, divine,” he whispered, his hand pressing down, fingers pinching and rolling over the sensitive peak of your breast, but also curling and scissoring in your wet core, drawing a moan from you that he swallowed with his mouth, as though the air you breathed out was blessed. “And I’d be anything you wanted, just to have permission to look at you like this whenever you’d allow.”

The devotion in his voice, the reverence, held a depth you’d never felt before. Every nerve in your body was on fire, drawn tight and ready to unravel.

His fingers moved within you in perfect rhythm, coaxing and curling with an exquisite control that only made you melt deeper into him. He felt you tightening, your body responding to every movement, and he leaned closer, his voice like a gentle request and a plea all at once. “That’s it,” he coaxed, his tone devout and low, “Let yourself fall… I’ll catch you, my Goddess… my everything.”

And as his words wrapped around you, you let yourself go, falling into a release that tore a gasp from your lips, his name leaving you in a breathless, broken whisper before you dissolved into laughter, unable to contain the sheer, overwhelming rush that coursed through you. You shook with the pleasure of it, his steady hand guiding you through, his fingers keeping a perfect pace as you rode the waves, your body arching, your breath ragged.

He didn’t stop, his gaze locked on yours, watching you, almost spellbound. The look in his eyes, pride mixed with something almost… awestruck, as if he couldn’t believe he was the reason behind every sound, every tremble. A smirk tugged at his lips, but there was a tenderness there too, a softness that made your heart race all over again.

Finally, a sigh slipped from you, your body melting into the bed, limbs relaxed and loose, the intensity fading into a satisfied numbness. He stayed beside you, fingers brushing a soft caress along your side, his eyes warm as he leaned close. “Good?” he asked, the hint of a chuckle in his voice, though his expression was still reverent, soft.

The answer was written all over you, your body relaxed in a way that left no doubt. With a soft sigh, you nodded, letting yourself sink back into the moment.

“Better than I've been in a long time,” you admitted, the honesty coming out almost in a whisper. Before he could respond, you sat up, cupping his jaw in both hands, pressing a kiss to his lips, slow and filled with everything you couldn’t put into words.

“Thanks,” you murmured, brushing your nose against his in a quiet moment of affection.

He held your gaze steadily, his expression a mixture of softness and something fierce beneath it. “Anything for you, darlin’,” he replied, the sincerity in his voice resonating through you. “Anytime.”

A small, shy smile tugged at your lips under the weight of his gaze. The intensity there made your heart skip, and without thinking, you ducked your head, pressing yourself into his neck, wrapping your arms around him tightly. You could faintly feel his heartbeat under your cheek, steady and grounding.

“Is this real?” you found yourself mumbling, a part of you still wondering if you were about to wake up.

His hands rubbed slow, soothing circles over your shoulder blade. “Yeah, sweetheart, it’s real,” he murmured against your hair, chuckling softly.

You nodded, and the moment lingered a little longer as you noticed his hands trailing down your back, brushing lightly enough that a hint of heat rose between you again. You pressed closer, feeling the evidence of his own desire still lingering beneath the denim of his jeans, hard and unyielding against you.

“What about you?” you asked softly, feeling the slight twitch of his hands on your waist.

His gaze dropped, a faint, almost self-conscious smile playing on his lips. “I can wait,” he replied, voice low, a hint of gravel to it. He met your eyes, his expression warm, reassuring. But as he held your gaze, something in his eyes promised that, whenever you had time, he’d still be there, waiting for you.

His words reminded you of the day ahead, the responsibilities waiting, and with a deep breath, you reluctantly pulled yourself back, your body protesting the loss of his warmth as you moved to stand. You gave him a rueful smile, glancing at the stack of clean clothes that still sat on the chair by your desk, needing to be put away, from which you pulled some underwear, a shirt and pants. His eyes stayed on you, a steady, silent presence even as you dressed.

Tentatively, you extended your hand to him, silently inviting him to get up, but instead, he caught it, pulling you back to him with a gentle tug. His head pressed against your stomach, hands wrapping behind your thighs as he inhaled deeply, his nose brushing the fabric of your shirt, breathing you in like he was memorizing every part of you.

The moment felt like a quiet confession, unspoken but profound, and your fingers found their way to his hair, combing through the strands in slow, comforting motions.

“I could stay here forever,” he murmured, his voice a warm, rough whisper that seemed to settle in the depths of you.

The words felt like they carried a weight he hadn’t quite meant to say out loud, but he didn’t pull back. Instead, his arms found their way to your waist, wrapping around you, holding you like he wasn’t ready to let go. His warmth spread through you, and you couldn’t help but feel the tug of something deeper, something that made you want to sink into this moment for as long as it would last.

You brushed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, savoring the feeling of him so close. “I could, too,” you whispered, barely louder than a breath, feeling the vulnerability of it even as you spoke. And when his grip tightened just a bit, you knew he’d heard you.

But time pulled at you both, and eventually, you forced yourself to take a step back, feeling the coolness of the room where his warmth had been. He looked up at you with that same, steady devout gaze, as if you were the only thing that mattered.

“Guess we’ve both got things to do,” he murmured as he stood, his voice reluctant, fingers brushing over yours, hesitant before reaching out and wrapping his hand around yours, a bit tentative, as if unsure if you'd welcome the contact.

You nodded, giving his hand a soft, reassuring squeeze, your silent way of saying you felt it too, that you were in this together.

Slowly, you both made your way to the door, side by side, neither of you willing to rush this. You glanced at him as you reached the doorway, catching the way he watched you, his gaze carrying a warmth and intensity that made your pulse stutter.

The promise in his eyes lingered, and it held a quiet certainty. Despite the end of this perfect moment, you knew it was only the beginning.

Notes: If you enjoyed it, don't forget to comment and spread the love 😊 More on the way!

✨ Masterlist ✨

[communicationthroughlyrics]

I Work Too Hard, Can You Fuckin' Pay Me?

Part 8 - Y/N moved to escape some of thier looming troubles from Westview, to the place that their best friend said would make a difference. New job, new digs, will Y/N make a change for the better, or leave another city with their tail between their legs?

A/N: Sorry it's been taking so long between updates, y'all. My life got craaaaaazy messy of late, and now I'm struggling to even cover basic bills. I try to write when I can. Much love, y'all.

TW: Angst, Intersex reader, reader has some... not so great coping habits, sexual tension, smut

Word Count: 2.4K

Read Pt. 1 HERE Read Pt. 2 HERE Read Pt. 3 HERE Read Pt. 4 HERE Read Pt. 5 HERE Read Pt. 6 HERE Read Pt. 7 HERE

Command Me to Be Well

The drive to your place was a blur of anticipation, your mind racing with the possibilities of what the night might hold. When you pulled into the driveway, you didn't even bother taking your things out of the backseat of your car. Wanda's hand was in yours before you could blink, and she was leading you from your driveway, up the walkway to her front porch, and through the door into the house, shutting it firmly behind you. The air was charged with the electricity of unspoken desires, and you could feel the weight of your fears slowly lifting away.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Y/N," she whispered, her eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. You took a deep breath and nodded, feeling the warmth of her hand as it slipped from yours. Her nails scraped across your chest, a low growl coming from you as your head tilted back against the cool wall behind you.

"I want this," you managed to say, your voice thick with need. "I want you." You could feel the blood rushing throughout your body, and you are sure that your neighbors could hear your heartbeat. Wanda's smile grew as she stepped closer to you, her hand moving to the knot of your tie.

Her movements were slow and deliberate as she loosened it, her eyes never leaving yours. The ends lay respectively on each side of your chest, as she runs her hands up your chest before tangling her fingers into your hair, pulling you down to her for a bruising kiss. Your hands found the hem of her shirt, lifting it up to expose her midriff, her skin soft and warm to the touch. She breaks the kiss for a moment to let out a gasp of pleasure as you trail your fingertips inside of her shirt, up her side, feeling her body shiver against you.

The living room is dimly lit, the only light coming from the flickering of the electric fireplace, which you both ignore as you stumble down the hallway to the bedroom, your mouths never leaving each other. The door clicks shut behind you, muffling the noise from the outside world and leaving you in a cocoon of desire. Wanda's bed is unmade, the covers thrown back from her earlier restlessness. You can't help but smirk, knowing you're about to make it even more disheveled. You began walking Wanda back towards her bed, letting her fall to the mattress with a gasp as you leaned down, slotting your knee in between her thighs.

Her hands are everywhere, unbuttoning your shirt with trembling fingers, sliding it off your shoulders. Your chest is bare, and the cold air hits your skin, causing your nipples to pebble. She runs her hands over your skin, her nails scraping lightly, leaving a trail of heat behind. You moan into her neck as she nibbles the sensitive skin there, the feeling causing your cock to throb in your pants. You're desperate to feel more of her, to taste her. You kiss down her chest, your mouth finding the soft skin above her bra.

Wanda arches into you, her breath hitching as you trace a pattern of kisses and licks along the upper swells of her breasts. You can feel her heart pounding, echoing your own, as you reach behind and unhook the clasp, her breasts spilling out into your waiting hands. They're perfect, full and soft, and your thumbs tease her nipples, causing her to arch further into you, a low moan escaping her lips. You take one in your mouth, suckling gently at first, then increasing the pressure as she cries out. She tastes like vanilla and something uniquely Wanda, and it's intoxicating.

Her hands are in your hair, guiding you, urging you on as you kiss and lick her breasts, her hips moving restlessly against your thigh. You can feel the dampness through your pants, and you know she's soaked for you. The anticipation is unbearable, but you refuse to rush this. You want to savor every moment, every touch, every sound she makes. You kiss a path down her stomach, her abs contracting as you get closer to her pants. You pull back, looking at her, needing to see the desire in her eyes. She nods, her eyes hooded and dark with lust, and you know she wants this as much as you do. You unbutton her pants, sliding them down, along with her underwear.

Her legs are smooth and bare, and you run your hands up the inside of her thighs, feeling her quiver. She's already spread for you, and you can see the slickness of her arousal glistening in the dim light. You lean in, kissing the inside of her thighs, making her gasp. Your breath is hot against her pussy, and she bucks against you. You spread her wider with your thumbs, licking up her slit and making her moan loudly. She's sweet and salty, and you can't get enough. You flick her clit with the tip of your tongue, and she jolts, her hands tightening in your hair.

You look up at her, watching her face contort with pleasure, and it's the most beautiful sight you've ever seen. You lick and suck, swirling your tongue around her clit, feeling her get closer and closer. She's panting now, her hips moving in time with your mouth. You insert a finger, feeling her tighten around you. She's so wet, so ready, and you know it won't be long now. You add another finger, curling them inside her, searching for that magical spot that will send her over the edge.

Her body tenses, her back arching off the bed, and she screams your name as she comes, her walls pulsing around your fingers. You swallow her down, licking her clean, feeling her quiver against your mouth. You kiss your way back up her body, tasting her on your lips. Her eyes are glazed with pleasure, and she's smiling up at you, her cheeks flushed.

"Your turn," she whispers, pushing you onto your back. You watch as she straddles you, her naked body a vision above you. She reaches down and unbuckles your belt, her eyes never leaving yours as she pulls your pants down, freeing your cock. It's hard and throbbing, and she wraps her hand around it, stroking gently.

You groan, your hips lifting off the bed as she teases you, her hand gliding up and down in a torturously slow rhythm. You want to grab her and fuck her hard, but you force yourself to lay still, to let her take control. She lowers her mouth to you, her breath hot against your skin. She kisses the tip, licking the pre-cum from the slit. The sensation is electric, and you have to grit your teeth to keep from coming right then and there.

Wanda smirks, her eyes flicking up to yours as she takes you in her mouth, her tongue swirling around your head. You can feel her eyes on you, watching every reaction, every twitch, and it's driving you wild. She takes you deeper, her hand still stroking, and you feel yourself losing control. You want to hold her there, to feel her mouth on you forever, but you know you can't. You don't want to come like this, not the first time. You need to be inside her, to feel her warmth and tightness.

With a growl, you pull her up and roll her onto her back, your cock pressing against her belly. You lean in and kiss her, tasting yourself on her lips. She wraps her legs around you, pulling you closer, her nails digging into your back. You kiss down her neck, feeling her pulse race beneath your lips. You kiss her chest, her breasts, her stomach, and finally, you're between her legs again.

You line yourself up with her, her heat and wetness beckoning. Pausing, you look at her, trying to decipher if there is any hesitation at what is about to happen. She nods her head, encouraging you to keep going. You push inside, inch by inch, feeling her tighten around you. She gasps, her nails scoring your back as you fill her. You still your hips, giving her a moment to adjust, and then you begin to move, your hips rolling into hers. The feeling is overwhelming, like you're finally home after a long, hard journey. You kiss her again, deep and passionate, feeling her legs lock around you, urging you deeper.

Her walls squeeze around you, and you can feel her getting closer. You reach down and play with her clit, her moans growing louder. "Wanda," you murmur against her neck, "I want to feel you come again." She nods, her breath coming in pants, and you pick up the pace, pushing her closer to the edge.

Her hips are moving with you now, her body begging for release. You can feel it building in her, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. And when it hits, she screams out, her pussy spasming around you. It's all you can take, and you come, your orgasm ripping through you like a supernova, leaving you both trembling and panting.

You collapse on top of her, your hearts beating in sync, the sweat making your skin stick together. You kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. "I'm sorry," you whisper, the words spilling out of you. "I'm sorry for everything."

Wanda's hands come up, cupping your face. "You don't have to be," she says, her voice filled with a tenderness that you never knew existed. "We're here now." And with that, you let yourself sink into her, the fear and doubt of before seemingly a lifetime away.

You pull back, looking into her eyes, searching for any sign of regret. But what you see instead is pure contentment. You roll over, taking her with you, so she's straddling you, your cock still inside her. You wrap your arms around her, holding her close, feeling her breasts press against your chest with each of her breaths.

"Wanda," you whisper, "I didn't know it could feel like this."

Her eyes searched yours, and she nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Neither did I," she admitted, her voice filled with wonder.

You held her there, feeling the aftershocks of your shared passion. The room was silent except for the sound of your mingled breaths and the occasional creak of the house. Wanda leaned down to kiss you, her movements gentle and loving.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice a soft caress against your skin. She pressed a gentle kiss to your collarbone, before nestling into the crook of your neck. "For trusting me. For letting go of your fears." her breath tickled the hairs along the side of your throat, causing goosebumps to erupt.

You returned the smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you for being patient," you said, your voice just as soft. "For giving me time."

Wanda raised her head to look into your eyes, her gaze filled with understanding. "I'll always give you time, Y/N. Always." Her words were like a balm to your soul, soothing the raw edges of your fear. Your eyes closed, and you sucked in a deep breath. "I know it's hard, but I'm not going anywhere. Please don't fight it."

You nodded, feeling the warmth of her body against yours. "I know," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. "I just don't want to ruin this."

Wanda's smile grew, her eyes shining with a love that took your breath away. "You won't," she assured you. "We'll figure it out together. I may have only known you personally through Piet and now for about a year- but you're not a bad person, Y/N." She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear. "You're just complicated. And that's what makes you intriguing."

Her words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, chasing away the chill of doubt. You felt your muscles relax, your grip on her hips loosening. "Complicated," you repeated with a small laugh. "That's one way to put it."

Wanda kissed the corner of your mouth, her smile mischievous. "It keeps things interesting," she said, her voice a seductive purr. "Now, let's make things even more interesting, shall we?" She began to rock her hips, the movement sending a jolt of pleasure through you. You groaned, your cock hardening once again inside her.

Her movements grew bolder, her hips rolling against yours, and you knew you were lost. You grabbed onto her, holding her tight as she rode you, her breasts bouncing with each thrust. She threw her head back, her hair cascading down her back, and the sight of her was almost too much to handle. You watched her, your eyes locked onto her face as she chased her own release, her expression a mix of pleasure and concentration.

You reached up to cup her breasts, feeling their weight in your hands, her nipples peaked and sensitive. You rolled them gently, feeling her moan, her movements becoming more frantic. The sight was intoxicating, and you found yourself getting lost in the moment, the fear of before a distant memory. You sat up, wrapping your arms around her, her legs tightening around your waist as you began to thrust into her.

Her eyes snapped open, locking onto yours, and you felt a connection so strong, it was like you were one being. She leaned in, her teeth grazing your bottom lip, and you knew she was close. You could feel it in the way she tightened around you, in the way her breath hitched. With one last, deep thrust, she came, her body shaking as she cried out. You followed her over the edge, your own release powerful and overwhelming.

You collapsed back onto the bed, her body still straddling yours, both of you gasping for air. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through your veins. Wanda leaned down, her forehead resting against yours, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Wow," she breathed, her voice filled with wonder.

"Yeah," you agreed, the word barely making it past the lump in your throat. "Wow." You didn't know what to say, the enormity of what had just happened left you speechless. But you knew one thing for sure—this was just the beginning. You had taken a leap of faith, and Wanda had caught you. You didn't know what the future held, but for now, you were content to lie there, her warmth surrounding you like a warm embrace.