#drabble answered

[incognit0slut]

Permanent attachment

in which you’re far too comfortable to move from Spencer’s lap, and he doesn’t mind carrying you around

content: fluff, 1.7k, established relationship, lots of kissing, sex talk, kinda fade-to-black smut, reader being very clingy, and spencer’s tummy (my fav) a/n: i once told @mandarinmoons that i wanted to climb the man and not even in a sexual way and she said “like a koala?” and to that i answered YES! self-indulgent fics are the best

Spencer smells nice. Like, annoyingly nice. And it’s not the kind of nice that’s vaguely pleasant. No, this is the kind that settles into your bones. A mix of soap and something uniquely him that you can't quite name but would probably pay an unreasonable amount to bottle up.

Now that sounds like a dream. Imagine Spencer in a bottle, spritzed onto your neck, lingering on your skin. Imagine a personal cloud of him following you everywhere, with top notes of freshly brewed coffee and a base note of comfort that leaves you no choice but to lean in just a bit closer. You shift on his lap, pretending to get comfortable, but really, it's because you want to catch another whiff.

Your boyfriend catches you mid-inhale. "Comfortable?"

You don’t even bother pretending to be embarrassed. Who cares if he knows you’re borderline obsessed? Who wouldn’t be? He’s smart, handsome, and smells like heaven bottled in human form. So instead of pulling away, you double down, pressing your nose right into the curve of his neck as your answer.

"I'm starting to think you might be a little attached.”

You sigh against his skin, “Might be? Spencer, I'm practically grafted onto you at this point. You better get used to it."

A hand runs up your spine. “Not that I’m complaining, but my legs might actually fall asleep if I don’t get up soon.”

“So dramatic,” you tease, smiling as you press a soft kiss to his jaw. The subtle scrape of his stubble tickles your lips.

“I don’t think you’ve moved an inch in the past hour.”

“I don’t even want to move an inch,” you murmur against his cheek. "I just want to stay like this. Forever. If I could just crawl under your skin and stay there, that would be perfect.”

Spencer laughs softly, the sound rumbling under your lips. You feel the warmth of his smile as he tilts his head toward you. “That sounds sweet yet incredibly creepy.”

“You know what I mean!” You slide your arms around him, weaving them across his shoulders. “I just… I want to—ugh, I don't know… squeeze you so tight you’d become part of me? Like an extension of my arm or something."

“That definitely sounds less creepy.”

“Shut up.” Your lips trace the rough scratch of his jaw, brushing along the curve until you reach the corner of his mouth. "Don’t you want someone permanently glued to you?"

“You’re definitely making a case for it.”

“Oh I’d climb you if I had to.”

His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck. “Is this where I find out you’re secretly a koala this whole time?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum against his lips, “and you’re my tall, handsome tree.”

His laughter vibrates against your mouth, and you let yourself melt into him, breathing in that comforting scent you’ve grown addicted to. You love him so much. You love him too much that your heart feels like it’s stretching to make room for all of it.

When he finally pulls back, you can’t resist reaching up to smooth your thumb over his bottom lip. “See? Permanent attachment.”

His own thumb caresses the back of your neck in lazy strokes. You're practically dissolving into him.

"I don’t have much of a choice, do I?" The tip of your nose brushes against his as you shake your head. He steals another quick peck from your lips. "I really do need to get up though.”

You pout immediately. “Why?“

“Because my throat is actually starting to feel a little dry. I could use some water.”

“Water is overrated. Stay.”

“Honey,” he croons softly, his eyes squinting with that familiar crinkle at the corners. He thinks you’re cute when you’re clingy. “The kitchen is only ten feet away.”

“Ten feet too far. Do you know the kind of emotional damage I’ll suffer if we’re apart for too long?”

“So dramatic,” he mocks back, planting a kiss on your jaw, your cheek, and you giggle when his mouth lands on the skin between your ear and your neck. “All I’m asking for is ten feet. I promise I’ll be quick.”

“I might wither away from loneliness by the time you get back.”

You feel the ghost of his smile against your skin. “I’ll be back before you even have a chance to miss me.”

“I miss you already,” you sigh when he gently nips at the soft flesh of your neck. “Maybe you should just take me with you.”

You’re mostly bluffing, half-expecting him to laugh it off because Spencer has never actually carried you before. Not that you’ve ever minded—it’s not exactly the first thing you’d expect from him. But before you can even process it, he shifts beneath you, sliding one arm under your knee and the other around your back with surprising confidence.

And just like that, the floor seems miles away as he lifts you up.

“Wait! Wait!” you laugh, clutching at his shoulders. "Spencer!"

“I thought you wanted to come along."

“I didn’t think you’d actually carry me!”

You’re met with his steady grip, and to your surprise, he’s not struggling in the slightest. Apparently, those arms are stronger than you’d given him credit for, and it’s… well, very, very attractive. He strides confidently across the apartment, and you can’t help but let out an impressed, slightly flustered, “Okay, this is actually kind of hot.”

The corners of his lips twitch upward, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I did not know you were strong enough to do this,” you comment, then a thought sneaks into your mind, “Do you think we can try this position in the bedroom?”

He looks surprised and mildly amused. “Really? While standing?”

You loop your arms tighter around his neck. “You seem perfectly capable.”

“Wouldn’t I be doing all the work?”

“I thought you liked doing all the work.”

His chest presses against yours as he lets out another laugh. “If by that you mean spoil you, then yes, I do,” he says, casting a quick glance around the room. “Can I sit you on the counter, or are you planning to keep hanging on to me?”

“Tempting, but you can put me on the counter.”

With a gentle ease, he lifts you just slightly higher and sets you down on the cool countertop. “I can still carry you around if that’s what you want.”

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to brush a stray lock of curls from his face. “I don’t want to tire you out.”

“You’re not tiring me out,” he assures you as he reaches up to grab a glass from the top shelf, arm stretching just enough to give you a teasing glimpse of his soft stomach.

You can’t help yourself. You reach over and splay your hands over that warm skin, feeling the faint tickle of the fine hair scattered down his belly that disappears into his waistband. He doesn’t flinch—he’s long used to your hands finding their way to him like this—but he does cast a sidelong look in your direction. Behave.

If he’s expecting you to follow some sense of decorum, he should know better by now. You give his stomach a gentle, almost smug pat, and shakes his head as he moves to pour himself water.

“What do you want to do after this?” he asks, glancing back at you over his shoulder. You don’t give him an immediate answer, but he’s already suggesting a few ideas for the rest of the evening.

You can’t even pretend to pay attention. Is it normal to be this obsessed with your boyfriend? Because at this point, your focus isn’t even on the words coming out of his mouth. Something about a documentary, maybe. He’s probably rattling off the details right now, but you’re entirely distracted, your eyes shamelessly zooming in on the way his forearm flexes as he holds the glass. Even the soft hair dusting over his skin is doing things to you.

He catches your blatant stare and looks at you over the rim of his glass.

“What?”

“You are so sexy.”

He almost chokes on his water. The glass clatters against the countertop as he sputters, “What has gotten into you today?”

Probably ovulation. But you simply shrug, legs swinging idly against the cabinets beneath you. “I just love you.”

The answer is simple. Words spoken with all the casual sincerity you feel, but it’s enough to melt his astonishment into affection as he strides over and slips between your thighs.

“You just love me?”

“Yeah,” you reply softly, reaching up to brush over the delicious roughness of his stubble. “Like a ridiculous amount. Probably too much.”

His heart is swelling, so full it feels like it’s about to burst. “I love you too.”

“That’s it?”

You watch as his nose twitches, the smallest hint of a smile playing at his lips before he sighs, “I love you so much, angel."

"I think you can do better than that."

He huffs a chuckle, "I love you too much," he tries again, "more than I even know what to do with."

You smile in satisfaction, a little triumphant over his exaggeration. You’ve taught him well. “Say it again.”

The wide expanse of his palms settles on your waist.

“I am madly,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, “deeply,” another finds its way to your jaw, “hopelessly,” he murmurs as he grows even closer to your lips, “in love,” he’s a breath away from yours, “with you.”

The space between you shrinks to nothing. You swallow his last words, letting them dissolve on your tongue like the sweetest confection. What begins as a delicate melding of warmth and breath quickly intensifies, as though he’s determined to steal every bit of air from your lungs. And before you know it, his hands are sliding under you.

A surprised squeal escapes your lips as he lifts your weight, and an even louder gasp follows when he carries you toward the bedroom.

You know exactly what he plans to do for the rest of the evening.

[cloudedcreams]

thinking about a darling with a yandere! crush.

you’ve never seen him before but you’ve heard of him. the weird kid, who nobody likes, who lingers near the back. he skips lectures, takes smoke breaks outside and had a decent reputation before he fucked it all over for himself.

seeing him for the first time was like a breath of fresh air if anything. staring into his intense eyes and practically simpering before realising that he was staring too.

there was something about his eyes that you found so intense. it seemed as though he’d lost all care in the world, and therefore found no reason to look away. he looked at you with eyes filled with judgement, and yet with feelings that you couldn’t decipher.

it became a common occurrence. you’d follow him around out of what you told yourself to be boredom, and he’d tear his eyes away from whatever he was doing to gaze back. there’d be times he’d be occupied with something and you’d have a moment without the tension before he suddenly paused his movements and tilted his head to stare at you for a moment, before looking away.

you don’t plan to speak to him, and it seems the same thought applies to him to him. he’d certainly have heard you speaking before, perhaps ranting to a friend or complaining about something, but it seemed he barely spoke. the most you’d said to him would have to have been a meek ‘sorry’ during a time he’d bumped into you, and you could practically feel him pressed up against you before you moved away.

the two of you will be content with just watching. <3

[casuallyanidiot]

Got a fair few asks about Danny (aka Yandere Farmboy) and what he'd be like in marriage, with kids and the In-Laws etc. So here are a few HCs about that !

Tw. BabyTrapping, Yandere, Power Imbalance, Forced Marriage, Implied Noncon, Slut shaming, implied abortion, implied homophobia/transphobia at the end, Fem! AFAB! Reader

The Marriage

I've gone into some detail about how Danny would treat you once he got his hands on you in another ask. He likes getting you all dressed up and proper, and he never wants to see you with dirt smeared across your face ever again.

Danny would want to wait until you were pretty far into your pregnancy to actually marry you. Hell, he might even wait until you actually have his baby. You'd asked him to just get it over with right after he got your parent's permission to take you away from the farm and into his home, but he wanted everyone to see what you had become.

You aren't just some rat scurrying around town anymore. No, you're his. And now there's no way you can deny it. Because if you do, you risk being shunned by everyone.

"That poor Petusky kid... getting stuck with that whore."

"She's lucky he even keeps her around. If it were me, I would've run her off a long time ago."

Danny had you moved into his family home soon after the events of the first fic. He likes sitting there, rubbing your growing belly and murmuring words of comfort. He forces you to recline in a plush, padded rocking chair he made with his father just for you.

"This is the happiest I've ever been," he praised as he pressed kisses to your skin. He smiled at the way you flinched, and he cooed softly. "The wedding venue is booked. Plus I've got the bakery prepping a cake. A big one too, with your favorite flavors," He said. You don't remember telling him what they were. "We just gotta wait until this little one arrives. Getting married will be the best thing that's ever happened to you, I swear. Weddings are just... stressful. Don't want anything hurting the baby now, do we?"

Of course he doesn't let you work. You're his precious wife, after all. Plus he seethes at the thought of failing you, of letting you slip from his fingers and back into a life where he can't control your happily ever after. You'll have no financial freedom, that's for certain.

He's eerily attuned to your wants and needs. he's spent years observing you, your interests. The way your eyes would trail longingly on the other women in town with their nicer clothes, the way in school that you tried and tried to keep up with other academically. You wanted a better life. He had that. He could give you that.

He adores you, he really does. He'd buy you old Bronte sister novels and sit there with you when you'd struggle to read them. He comes back to you every day, no matter how sweaty and caked in mud he might be, pressing flowers into your hands.

Maybe if he'd been less of a creep, less desperate to possess you entirely, then perhaps he could've been the love of your life.

The In-Laws

Danny's parents, like mentioned in the original fic, are pretty much the wealthiest people in town if not the entire area. They own several cattle ranches and acres upon acres of land that's perfect for tilling. Really they're the exact opposite of your family.

They aren't unkind per se, but you could definitely feel them judging you whenever you had spoken to them in the past. They'd smile at you in an overly friendly manner that felt empty as it looked nice. Just typical southern politeness wrapped in a shiny veneer.

That being said, when Danny came to them one day, dragging your shaking form in front of them, they knew something was up. There's no reason a girl like you should seem so upset that their precious baby boy was promising her the moon and stars. When he goes on to explain " She's gonna have my baby. I know you should wait until marriage and all, but we got to excited and well..."

A shotgun marriage with the town tramp. Not exactly ideal for a sterling reputation, but they could work with this. Most of the town would probably judge you no matter what, but Danny's parents subtly nudge people to think of you like some gold digger.

They can sense that Danny did something to you. You flinch sometimes when you think no one is looking, and his mother has caught you crying alone in some random room in their big house a couple times. Unfortunately, though, you're far less important to them than their son. If he wanted you that badly, he can have you. They're just gonna make sure everything stays under wraps.

Danny's father doesn't really care for you one way or another. He doesn't really get what his kid sees in you, but then again, he can kind of see why the boy grew up to be so damn possessive. He had traditional values pummeled into him from a young age, and what's more traditional than marrying your high school sweetheart and providing for her and your family? Once you get cleaned up a bit and start living with them more often, he quietly accepts you as part of the family. He likes whittling toys for your new arrival when he's not working or with his wife, and he finds you to be a pleasant addition. Overall, he'll keep his mouth shut on what Danny did for the sake of everyone in the family and for his own peace.

Danny's mother on the other hand is quite involved when it comes to you. Your her daughter in-law! Ain't that something? It's kind of clear that she doesn't like you from the beginning, but she can't get rid of you and sweep you under the rug in the way she'd like. If it was up to her, you'd be headed for some backwater clinic before being shipped off to the big city, never to be seen again. But Danny loves you, and she can't exactly stop him without risking putting him in jail or having their reputation ruined. So, you stay, much to her resentment.

Second to Danny, she spends the most time with you. She's a housewife as well, so she helps you learn how to take care of a proper household for once. Your manners and demeanor are awful in her opinion. You're too skittish and sad looking! So what if you've been forced to marry your stalker? Don't you know how many other girls would've killed for this, young lady? Just like her husband, though, she becomes more fond of you over time. Once you're settled in and start meekly accepting her offers to bake, clean, and do general busy work with her, she starts actually seeing you not as her son's property, but as her daughter. She had all boys after all, so it's nice to have another girl in the house. She keeps tabs on you for Danny, sending him candid photos of you and the baby once it arrives. Now that she actually likes you, sweeping the whole thing under the rug changes to include keeping you as well.

Danny has little sibling as well: two younger brothers. They're both far younger than him, and they don't really have an opinion of you one way or another. You just kind of... appeared in their house one day. Their mom and dad started stressing for a while, and you didn't seem too happy either, so what was this whole deal? I think they'd be very kind to you initially, bothering you to play and sharing sweets when they wished to, and they're both curious and annoyed about the fact that a baby is going to join them soon.

I think that while the siblings don't learn about what happened to you, their perception of love and morality would be heavily skewed by the fact that you, being scared and held in the house against your will, and their big brother are presented as the pinnacle of romance.

Overall, you'd be accepted, but there are definitely a lot of strings attached to that.

The kids

I think Danny really loves his kids with you. Or rather, he loves the idea of having a family more than he actually would the kids themselves. He's always had this dream that the two of you would be lost in a fluffy, domestic bliss until the day you died, and part of that meant a few little ones running around.

He's a good dad in the sense that he'd always be there for them. He'd take them to games, to dance practice, teach them how to work in the fields and buy them gifts. He's very present, but it's always with an undercurrent of control. You don't want to ruin this happy family, do you now? Your kids love their father, they love this happy home, so don't you dare think about leaving, okay?

In addition, I think that Danny would have a really hard time dealing with a kid that deviated from what he considered to be "normal" or "traditional". Part of his whole power in their very conservative town is that his family is a paragon of tradition and "societal values". It's how he trapped the reader after all. But if his kids threatened that balance of power by trying to leave the farm, go to the city, or be anything other that what he'd been trying to turn them into, I think he would genuinely lose it. His kids are not people to him, they are ideas and pawns that he'd become attached to.

If the kids turned out to be more like him in possessive, controlling behavior, then I think then he'd probably recognize them as their own individuals rather than just an fantasy he had for a legacy or a life with the reader.

[godricgryffinsnore]

helloooo if your you’re taking requests for James Potter i have a REALLYYY long idea and I’m thinking maybe a long story where they are childhood friends and known as the Golden Girl and Boy of Hogwarts. James is quite clingy and touchy with her, so everyone thinks they’re dating. Then, one day, he makes a public, dramatic love confession when he realizes she’s going on a date.

PLEASE PLEASEE feel free to ignore this if its too much💗💗

Just Friends, He Swears ♡ | J.Potter ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

“We were just best friends—until she smiled at someone else and I realized I was one scarf away from staging a public meltdown in the rain.”

pairing : James Potter x fem!reader

summary : A golden boy, a golden girl, and the chaos of being “just friends” when everyone else knows it’s love—except them. A slow-burn Hogwarts rom-com full of tension, longing, and one very dramatic confession in the rain.

warnings : Fluff, Jealousy, Dramatic idiots, Public love confession, Mild language, Secondhand embarrassment. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

della's note : Thank you so much for requesting anon!!! I really appreciate you coming here and sharing your ideas with me <3 Hope you like this!!

word count : 1.5k

navigation <3

banners : @/omi-resources and @/cafekitsune

James Potter met her on the train to Hogwarts in first year, hair wild from the wind, face flushed with excitement, and she had a chocolate frog stuck in her hair. He fell in love right then. Not that he’d admit it. Not even now. Not even when he’s sixteen and she's sitting next to him in the common room with her legs on his lap and his fingers tracing lazy circles into her shin.

They’re best friends. Have been since day one. She’s the only one who can match his chaos, ground his storms, slap him upside the head when he’s being arrogant, and whisper in his ear when he’s too proud to admit he’s scared. They’re Hogwarts’ Golden Pair—he, the adored Quidditch captain with a cocky grin and heart of gold; she, the fierce, loyal, terrifyingly clever girl who laughs at his jokes like he invented the sun.

Everyone thinks they’re dating.

They’re not.

They just… do things like a couple. Sit too close. Touch too much. Argue like they’ve been married for fifty years. She kisses his cheek before every match. He carries her bag to class. Once, he made her a flower crown out of actual magic and then got detention for hexing a Slytherin who called it “soft.”

Sirius once said: “Either snog already or take it to the Room of Requirement and spare the rest of us.”

Lily muttered: “Honestly, it’s like watching two penguins in denial.”

Remus just sipped his tea. He’s smarter than all of them.

But she doesn’t see it. Doesn’t see the way James stares when she’s laughing. Doesn’t feel how he tense-pretends-not-to-be-tense when another boy flirts with her. Doesn’t notice the absolute havoc he descends into when she walks in wearing that stupid Ravenclaw blue scarf—

Wait. That’s not hers.

James squints. “Whose scarf is that?”

She blinks, fiddling with the tassels. “Oh—Aidan gave it to me. The Ravenclaw prefect? I’ve got a date with him this weekend.”

Silence.

Like… actual silence. The kind that makes the room cold even though the fire’s crackling.

James blinks once. Twice.

Then says, louder than necessary: “A date? Like… a romantic one?”

She laughs, tilting her head. “Is there another kind?”

He wants to throw himself out the window.

James does not spiral. He is composed. Collected. A mature young man.

That’s why he definitely doesn’t—

Drag Sirius out of bed at midnight to rant about "Mr. Ravenclaw Bloody Kindness"

Accidentally blow up a pumpkin in Herbology while muttering “he probably says please before kissing her”

Tell Peter he thinks the bloke’s trying too hard to be soft. (“Is that illegal now?” Pete asks. “IT SHOULD BE,” James hisses.)

By Saturday, it’s raining. Of course it is. Because the universe is dramatic. And so is he.

She’s standing near the courtyard fountain, dressed in a skirt he’s definitely never seen and lipstick that’s going to kill him. The scarf’s around her neck, and he wants to rip it off.

He marches toward her like a man possessed. Wet curls in his eyes. Shirt clinging to his chest. The Marauders (plus Lily, Dorcas, Marlene) are trailing behind him like it’s a bloody play.

“Oi!” he yells.

She turns, eyes wide.

“James?”

He kneels. Like a bloody idiot. In the puddles. In the rain. Like she’s leaving him at the altar.

“Don’t go.”

She blinks. “What—?”

“Don’t go on the date.” His voice cracks. Cracks.

“James, why are you—”

“I don’t know!” he nearly shouts, arms flailing. “I don’t know why I feel like I’m dying when you wear his scarf or talk about his stupid kind smile or mention that he reads poetry—WHO EVEN READS POETRY VOLUNTARILY?!”

“You do,” she whispers.

He falters. “I know. But it sounds better when you read it.”

The rain pours harder. Everyone is watching. But it’s just them now.

“James,” she murmurs, confused and stunned and breathless, “why does this matter to you?”

His eyes lock on hers. Desperate. Soft. Possessive.

“I don’t have the words,” he admits. “I just know I need you. Like… air. Like magic. Like my broomstick needs me not to be a dumbass. You’re the one thing I can’t risk losing because I’d never recover. Not really. Not where it counts.”

Her lip trembles. She kneels down with him, the cobblestones digging into her knees, the rain soaking through her skin, their noses inches apart.

“I think…” she whispers, “I think I’ve been in love with you since first year and just thought it was normal to feel like this all the time.”

His breath hitches.

Then she kisses him.

It’s messy. Rain-slick. A little uncoordinated. James makes a sound like someone just gave him oxygen for the first time in weeks.

Behind them:

Sirius: “FINALLY.” Lily: “I’m emotionally unwell.” Remus: “Pay up, Marlene.” Marlene: “I hate love.”

James Potter, now that he is officially your boyfriend, is insufferable.

He always was, of course—hovering over your shoulder during breakfast, twirling your hair during study sessions, slinging an arm around you like it was a reflex. But that was before. That was when he was still pretending he wasn’t in love with you.

Now?

Now he wakes you up with a “Good morning, love of my life, did you dream of me?” every day. He holds your hand in the corridors and refuses to let go, even when you’re both trying to eat toast. He spells “J + Y/N = 🧡” into the condensation of every window he passes.

It’s revolting.

You adore it.

You’re sitting in the library, trying to do Transfiguration homework. James is across from you, meant to be writing a paper on theoretical wandless magic.

Instead, he’s staring at you. Again.

Hard.

Like he’s trying to memorize your face for war.

“James,” you whisper, not looking up from your notes. “Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop looking at me like I’m about to vanish.”

He grins like you just told him he’s your Patronus.

“I would literally pass out if you vanished. Right here. Face-first into my essay.”

“You don’t have an essay.”

“I’d write one about you.”

You blink. “What would it be titled?”

He pauses for half a second before saying, proudly: “‘Anatomy of a Face I’d Die For: A Study in Tragic Obsession.’”

From across the table, Remus snorts.

Aidan—the Ravenclaw you almost went on a date with—is not helping James’s emotional stability.

He’s still friendly. Too friendly. He waves in corridors. Compliments your handwriting. Smiles a bit too long.

James is Not Normal™ about it.

“Do you think he wants to duel?” James says one day while you're walking to Charms.

You blink. “What?”

“Aidan. He looked at me funny. I think he wants to fight.”

“James,” you sigh, “he was holding a kitten.”

“Yeah. As a weapon.”

You stop walking. “Are you jealous of the boy I didn’t go on a date with?”

“I’m not jealous,” he says, tightening his hold on your hand. “I just think he’s too nice. And suspiciously symmetrical.”

He’s pouting. Full-on, Golden Retriever Pout™.

You tug him closer and whisper in his ear, “You know I only want you, right?”

James short-circuits. Blushes so violently Sirius will make fun of him for three days straight.

The Marauders, Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas are trying to have a civil conversation in the Gryffindor common room. You and James are not helping.

You're on his lap. His face is half-buried in your neck. He’s literally just… sighing contentedly.

Dorcas gags. “Do they think they’re in a cottagecore romance novel?”

Sirius throws a pillow. “Oi! James, you’re making us single by proximity.”

James doesn’t move. “You chose this life.”

Lily deadpans: “We didn’t choose anything. You cursed us.”

You grin, twisting slightly to look at your boyfriend. “James, maybe we should tone it down—”

James groans like you’ve stabbed him.

“I just got you!” he whines. “I’ve spent six years in platonic hell! I deserve this! Don’t take this from me, woman!”

“Godric’s bleeding ghost,” Marlene mutters, “he’s dramatic with her too.”

It happens in the middle of a Quidditch match.

You’re cheering from the stands, cold air whipping through your hair, and James does this ridiculous dive to catch the Quaffle—and slams into the ground with a dramatic thud.

Everyone gasps.

You leap from your seat. “JAMES?!”

He sits up immediately and yells:

“I’M OKAY, DARLING! I JUST SAW YOUR FACE AND FORGOT GRAVITY EXISTED!”

The stands go silent.

The Hufflepuff Beaters stop mid-swing.

Madam Hooch looks personally offended.

You turn bright red.

Sirius screams, “GET A ROOM!”

Remus whispers, “We are in the emotional splash zone.”

Later that night, curled into each other on the Gryffindor couch, James hums against your shoulder.

“You think people are sick of us?”

You smile, brushing back his hair. “Definitely.”

“Should we stop?”

“No.”

“Good,” he mumbles sleepily, already halfway to dreaming. “Because I plan on loving you out loud for the rest of my life.”

And even though he’s dramatic, possessive, clingy, and a little stupid in love…

So do you.

[ruinix]

omg can you do quinn with a pillow princess, that is right up his alley since he seems so caring

Hello, lovely. Of course. It's time for Quinn having a pillow princess 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ Firm believer that you won't just be his princess

Everything for His Princess

18+. Whore thoughts. This is smut. Unprotected sex. Slight soft dom hints.

Quinn would love to lay on top of you, resting his weight on you with just his forearms supporting himself.

His hips would move in slow circles as he grinded against your quivering pussy. His lips would kiss your lips with so much fervor. His hand softly running up your sides, his thumbs pressing on your delicate flesh, teasing the underside of your breasts. He would groan when you moaned into his mouth.

He would shiver when your hands snake up his sides, up between the two of you to graze over his pectorals, up to his shoulders. Then you pulled him closer, whining with your not so silent pleas. All while you kiss him so softly, your tongue lazily meshed with his, your lips feeling so damned amazing.

"Does my angel need something?" he asked, nipping your lips.

His thumb rolled over your nipple. His other hand slips under your thigh, hooking it over his forearm, spreading you wider for him. He could feel your words on your tongue, begging to be let out, but he kissed you deeper, smiling into the kiss when he feels you lazy hip movements that made your pussy graze his cock which caused sensations to shoot throughout his whole fucking body.

"If you don't say anything, we'll just stay and do this," Quinn teased, getting hypnotized by the way you desperately inhaled the soft blows of his breaths.

Still, you kept quiet, like you've been suspended in whatever headspace you were in. Your eyes gazed at his. They looked so glazed in the way that showed how absent yet so present you were. The sign that you were just waiting for him to claim you, to make a mess out of you, to bring you to the heights of pleasure. The sign of your surrender to whatever he planned.

Usually, Quinn would like it. He loved making you feel so good. He would do nothing else but look at how your eyes would roll back as you come hard that you couldn't scream, that your thighs would shake, that your toes would curl, that your nails would dig into his back. He would be delighted, be so honored that you let him take you until he would fill your pussy with his cum or spill across your sweat-shined abdomen, be so amazed with how your fingers would push the cum that escaped you back in your quivering heat or rubbed it on your skin.

Shamelessly, he would get off to that especially your submission to him. Not just sexually. The way you let him provide for you made his heart all soft and mushy. It was the simple things really, like when you let him order for you in a new restaurant, when you whispered in his ears what you wanted to say to the shop clerks so he could say it, when you would slightly and subtly moved behind him sometimes, giggling into his shoulder, so he could speak about your well-being, your plans, your achievements. He loved taking the reins, because it would boil down to you feeling so comfortable and happy. Those were the only important things for him.

You just trusted him so much, offering everything you have as much as he had given you all of him. He didn't mind it. He loved making you feel good. Your pleasure brought him his. Your happiness. Your excitement. Everything.

He would sacrifice everything for you every fucking day.

However, right now, he needed your words. He yearned for the words accompanying that look in your eyes.

"Please tell me what you want," He pleaded.

You didn't need to talk out loud. You could just whisper it. He would hear it because your soft sounds were the only things in his fucking mind beyond the feel of you. Your eyes looked lazily into his, a smile tracing along your beautiful features.

"I want to feel good, Quinny," you said so breathily. "Make me feel good? Need to feel more." With that, Quinn angled his hips, so his tip presses on your hole. The effect was immediate. He had you writhing, your nails digging into his nape, your pants getting faster. "Please, Quinn. Please. Please."

While Quinn liked hearing your pleas, he would prefer your moans, prefer your soft squeals and groans, so slowly, inch by inch, he entered your clenching pussy. When you pulled him for a kiss, he obliged you, kissing you, fucking you so slowly, letting you feel every stroke, ever sensation, every shivering pleasure.

"You okay?" He asks, pressing kisses on your jaw, down your neck, to your artery that pounded with your racing pulse. "How's my angel?"

He groaned, feeling your pussy squeeze around him. He knew you would like to be called his angel. Your eyes shone, pupils blowing out, staring right at his eyes. You nodded, your hips meeting his thrusts, rolling in the way that had him gritting his teeth so he would not just come right fucking there.

Could you see how much his very being was being undone because of your tiny gasps, your moans, your sighs? Could you see his desperation to give you whatever you need? Could you understand that he will never mind being on top? He would never. He loved controlling the pace, listening intently at your reactions, which angles would make you scream harder, feeling what makes your pussy walls quiver until you come. He loved eating your pussy out, teasing your clit before fucking you with his tongue.

Others might think he was doing all the work. He didn't fucking mind nor care about it. All that was important was you. Just you.

"Oh, Quinn. Please harder." You gasped, writhing as he rolled his hips, thrusting against that spongy spot that had your arousal leaking around him, pooling beneath you.

Quinn listened. He gripped both of your thighs now, almost pulling out of you only to thrust his full length in one quick motion, moving exactly how you would want him to.

He would fuck you harder, deeper, more thoroughly. Until your back was arching off the bed, until your pleas turned into slurred and hurried words. Until you would scream his name as you come, your pussy squeezing him so tightly that he couldn't ride out your orgasm, that he ended up coming so deeply inside of you.

"Oh, my Love, my Angel, my Queen," he groaned, "You feel so good. You did so well taking all of me. Do you feel full?"

He pressed over your lower abdomen, making you writhe, a lone tear escaping you while you still begged for him to fuck you more and more.

"Okay, angel. I'll do just that. Just relax," he cooed in your ear, pressing gentle kisses on your cheeks then your lips, trying his best to ease you. He swallowed his groan when you finally did, letting his half-hard cock go. "I need a few minutes."

He swore he could see tears threatening to fall from your eyes instantly. He kissed you, rubbing your arms to ground you.

"I'm here," he whispered over and over again. "We won't stop yet."

Slowly, he kissed his way down your body, licking the sweat shining on your skin, whispering praises that you deserved. He smiled at the way you parted your legs, letting him see your pussy dripping with your mixed fluids.

Quinn didn't waste any more time. He started licking up the salty mix of you, groaning at the sound of your hiss because you were all so sensitive, moaning at your fingers threading through his hair to signal him to do more.

And more he did.

I kinda made him a slight lifestyle dom. Just a bit. Just a hint. Or... did i?? Not sure. Good night, lovelies!

-> more thoughts? List. Want to be notified? Join my taglist!

[lxdymoon0357]

If you have the time, would it be possible for you to write something about the reader and Phineas being in an arranged marriage? Could be a headcannon or a oneshot.

(Warnings: mentions of poisoning.)

© Writing belongs to me, Lxdymoon0357. Do not plagiarize, but reblogging, liking and commenting is deeply appreciated.

Arranged and strange..and jealous..?

Phineas Lapileon was your dear husband, one you could actually stay on civil terms with..Of-course it was hard to actually be friendly, with his strong walls around him to refuse to let anyone in who is not his family, it was as if the entire family did not like anyone aside from their members.

Phineas was your darling husband, you adored him sure..wanted to be romantic, yes...But sadly, like his beauty, it was forbidden to have his heart it seemed, being on cold terms with you.

Asking him to go somewhere with you, it left simple but rather scathing news, "Do whatever you like, dear...I don't care, really" he'd say with a simple polite smile

But once in a while, his smile would be there, a compliment here and there, a kiss to your lips...

It was nice, it was some of the only time you actually felt like you were married to him, you knew it was rather pathetic to hold onto him if his feelings were there for someone else, but he kept civil terms with you.

Of-course conversation to conversation, Pereshati said it had something within family secret but she wasn't allowed to tell you more than that. Lapileons also mostly kept to themselves..

But Lapileons have to show face, being one of the most noble families in the empire, it was only polite.

So of-course you were there, decorated like a real-life doll with expensive clothes and jewellery, making conversations with some noble-man who was rather flattering, smiling sweetly to you,

"Well, it's not quite common to find someone to gorgeous in the empire, beauty is common..but stunning ethereal one likes yours? Rather rare..!" the man whispered, making you almost giggle..No usual how someone was this kind, as you thank them for their compliments, feeling your heart also flutter.

Phineas stood aside, downing his third glass of alcohol, Therdeo and Pereshati beside him, both of them rather concerned but ignored it..talking with other nobles to seem polite, while Phineas' eyes bore into the back of your head with the man,

"Do wherever you want..Why would you want to be with me? I'm just strange..."

That was all his mind ran on, as he watched you giggle with the man, so much happier than you ever seemed with him... Of-course it's not too long,before he actually walks over to lean over and gently kiss your lips all of a sudden,

"Dear, family is calling us" he whispered with a gentle smile making you smile back and butterflies produce in your tummy. Phineas gently helps you up with his gloves hand, his other hand was ungloved, but he kept picking at his nails with his thumbs.

As you two are walking away, he hears a little clang as the man drops his fork. As you walked ahead, he smiles turning back to the man, picking up with fork with his hands, and hands it back to him, before hissing softly,

"Don't you suppose it's rather pathetic to flatter someone else's wife? Are you really that alone and desperate? Please stop acting like a pig." he said to the man bluntly, glare in his eyes but as Phineas leaned back a small sweet smile graced his lips as he handed the fork back to the man.

Upon sitting in the carriage, Pereshati and Therdeo in another carriage, Phineas' hands stay lingering on yours as he leans his head on top of yours, being rather abnormally tall..As he fitted the other glove on his hand, smiling. Smiling softly as he gently kissed your forehead,

"my darling wife." he whispers, as you giggle and lean against him..It was rather nice when his walls fall down for you, as you gently kiss his lips, making Phineas smile, but not from the kiss...

Phineas can almost hear the cry of the man gasping for breath from the poison in his throat from Phineas's nail where he made himself bleed by picking at it in his head..and it's rejuvenating.

[reissancesstuff]

hi, is okay to ask for a reverse harem bonten x reader, where she is the normal assistant and the guys fall for her and super protective?

A/N: YES absolutely omg 😭😭 your request gave me LIFE. I had so much fun writing this—thank you for sending it in!! The Bonten boys are down bad for their assistant and it only gets more chaotic from here 👀💗 hope you enjoy!!

“Just the Assistant (Yeah, Right)”

Summary: You’re the assistant. That’s it. That’s all you’re supposed to be. But to Bonten? You’re everything—and they’ll kill anyone who tries to mess with you.

You’d been working for Bonten for six months. Quiet. Efficient. Knew how to carry three coffees in one hand and whisper a full meeting agenda into Mikey’s ear without blinking.

To you, it was just a job.

To them?

You were a threat to their sanity.

---

“She’s too soft for this world,” Sanzu said one night, watching you help Rindou organize files.

“She remembered I like chamomile.” Ran added, eyes glazed with something dreamy and dangerous.

“She said my tie was crooked and fixed it,” Koko muttered under his breath like it was a confession.

“She’s literally doing her job,” Kakucho replied, annoyed. And yet, ten minutes later, he offered you his jacket because you shivered once.

---

You were the sun in the middle of their bloodstained galaxy.

Mikey didn’t say much about you. Not out loud. But everyone noticed how his hand would twitch when another man spoke to you too long. Or how your name was the only one he said without sounding dead inside.

---

One afternoon, a visiting gang member smirked too wide when you poured tea.

“Pretty thing,” he said.

“Back off,” you replied, polite but firm.

Then suddenly—his chair tipped, and his face met the table. You blinked.

Ran cracked his knuckles. “Whoops.”

Sanzu laughed a little too loudly. “She did say back off.”

---

By month seven, you started noticing things. Like the way none of them let you walk alone. Or how Rindou waited outside your apartment building “just in case.” Or how Mikey once ghosted a whole meeting because you had a paper cut.

You thought you were imagining it.

Until Koko cornered you in the hallway.

“You’re not just our assistant,” he said, eyes sharp. “You’re… ours.”

---

You should’ve been afraid.

But when Sanzu burst in with a bullet wound and still smiled when you patched him up...

When Mikey said nothing but stared at you like you were the only thing anchoring him to the earth...

When the others waited outside your building in the rain, because some gang idiot muttered your name on the street…

You realized something.

You were never “just” the assistant.

Not to them.

[svtiddiess]

"it's hot when you talk back" + scoups for the drabble event hehe

"It's Hot When You Talk Back"

Pairing: husband!Seungcheol x wife!afab!reader

Genre: fluff, established relationship, drabble

Rating: sfw

Word count: 0.3k

"Darling, you didn't load the dishwasher properly," your husband sighs from the kitchen.

From your spot on the couch, you frown. You were sure you loaded it properly earlier. Maybe the dishes shifted during the wash?

You head into the kitchen and find Seungcheol standing over the open dishwasher, inspecting it like a crime scene. The dishes are exactly how you left them—neat, organised, totally fine.

"Cheol, what are you even talking about? Everything looks fine," you say, pointing at the rack.

"No, this one's clearly slightly crooked," he grumbles, gesturing to a plate that's tilted maybe two degrees off-centre.

Your jaw drops. You stare at him, utterly baffled.

"Cheol, you cannot be serious," you deadpan.

"I am! They have to be perfect," he insists, arms crossed.

You let out a long sigh and turned to leave. "I cannot do this with you right now."

"Oh, so now you're ignoring me,” he frowns dramatically.

"You're being annoying, and I value my peace, so yes," you mutter as you walk away.

"So now I'm annoying?" he gasps, offended. "Wow. And here I thought you loved me."

You whip around, exasperated. "Cheol, what is wrong with you today?"

"What's wrong with me?! What's wrong with you?!" he fires back.

"You're being ridiculous!" you snap.

"Well, you're being hot!" he blurts.

You blink. "What?"

"It's hot when you talk back," he smirks. "I can't help it—I argue with you for fun."

You stare at him, trying to process whether you want to laugh or scream.

"You little shit," you growl, grabbing the nearest spatula off the counter and swinging it at him.

But Seungcheol's already bolting, laughing like a maniac as he dashes out of reach.

"Get back here!" you shout, chasing after him.

"I love you too!" he calls back, still cackling as he runs.

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[323cutie]

👀👀👀 making out with Yunho? - 🐍

...kay I experienced something life changing last night. going bonkers.

yunho is soooo slow make out. soooo talking turned to murmurs turned to soft kisses turned to making out. I think comfort is really big with him. it always feels a little more natural and not... planned? expected? just like ... something that happens!

and ugh just... laying on your side facing him, his hands in your hair, yours on his face. he slides his leg between yours and pushes you closer to him by a hand on your back. the same time he licks at your bottom lip he also shifts his leg, and you feel the beginning of actual, red-hot want -- and it's all so intentional with him, he knows exactly what to do and how to get you where he wants you. he doesn't move your hips for you and without even saying anything he tells you to anyways, and when it effectively turns into borderline dry humping... mmmph.

and it would just be soooo slow. sensual. long kisses with the perfect amount of pressure, wandering hands (there's no way he isn't trying to touch all of you, everywhere, all at once), the sweet tang of the candy he was eating earlier melting on your tongue. and it's a slow transition from your lips to your neck, like he's trying to map out your features with his lips and tongue -- moving from your lips to the corner of your mouth to your chin to your jaw... and yunhos not too big on hickeys, but if you gasp and writhe enough for him he might just have to. can't let the world forget someone as precious as you is already off the table.

anyways. i've said it before but making out with yunho rarely DOESNT lead to sex -- part of that intention i was talking about. he can be mean and quick, but he knows how to get you really needy for him.

[witchslove]

Reader and Wanda being fuck buddies for months, but have a rule where they don't kiss or cuddle in order to make sure they don't catch feelings. Spoiler alert, they do. After one encounter where one of them gets jealous. They started having sex that begins with them being feral and eventually rolls into love making where they confess their feelings for one another. Followed by a long overdue cuddle session.

I love this idea, I love the “strictly friends with benefits” to catching feelings pipeline, definitely one of my fave tropes.

You and Wanda are regularly sleeping together, but that’s all it is. The two of you agreed on three rules before you started - no kissing, no cuddling, and no catching feelings for each other.

It isn’t until Vision openly flirts with Wanda in front of you that you realize you’ve already broken the most important rule. For a while now, you’ve been pushing down your feelings for the brunette, telling yourself that the sex is just really good and it’s nothing more than that.

Ever since the feelings started, you’ve been able to convince yourself that you don’t actually need anything more than what the arrangement provides. You’ve done your best to ignore the urge to kiss her when you’re deep inside of her, and the desire to hold her after you’ve made her cum.

You haven’t broken any rules.

Until now.

When you overheard Vision telling Wanda she’s beautiful and offering to help her cook, you can’t help but feel jealous. When he stands beside her in the kitchen, reaching his arm around her to grab something, his fingers brushing against hers in the process, you know you can’t ignore your feelings any longer.

You scold yourself for wanting to be in his place, for wanting the one person in the world you can’t have. As much as you wish you could continue denying your feelings, as much as you wish you could ignore the burning in your heart, you can’t.

The jealousy wins over any rational thought in your mind, and when you see Wanda making her way back to her room alone, you corner her.

“What was that about?” You ask, getting straight to the point.

“What was what-” Wanda begins to ask, before you interrupt her.

“You and Vision seem close,” you say sharply, your voice laced with jealousy that you hope she doesn’t pick up on, but you’re also too far gone to care.

“So?” She replies nonchalantly, raising an eyebrow at you as she reaches the door to her room. Her apathetic response only fuels the fire within you and she notices the hardened expression on your face, the anger behind your dilated pupils. The desire in your eyes whenever you look at her, the same desire she sees now, never fails to get her worked up, but she pushes that aside to remind you of the rules.

“Vision and I are just friends, not that it matters though. It’s not like you and I are together, remember?” She says harshly, crossing her arms.

“I remember,” you respond, clenching your jaw. “It’s just sex, right?”

While she usually takes on a more dominant role when she’s with you, Wanda can’t help but feel intimidated under your intense gaze as she nods in response.

“So let me fuck you then,” you say decidedly, your eyes still locked on hers.

Wanda’s slightly taken aback; she’s never seen you be so assertive with her, but she can’t deny that it turns her on. Without another word, she opens the door to her room and pulls you in with her, immediately letting you to pin her against it once you’re inside.

You don’t waste any time, hastily removing her shirt and bra before taking one of her nipples into your mouth. Wanda moans softly at the contact, her hands finding the back of your head to guide your movements.

You lick and suck at the hardened bud as your other hand comes up to palm at her neglected breast, working her up expertly the way only you can.

When Wanda bucks her hips in search of friction, you pick her up and carry her to the bed, laying her down against the sheets you’ve become so familiar with and crawling on top of her. You look down at her for a moment, soaking in the sight of her beneath you, panting with arousal. She looks so beautiful laid out for you, lips parted and green eyes practically begging you to fuck her.

Before you can get lost in your feelings, your hands find their way under her skirt, fingertips grazing the front of her panties. You smirk when you can feel how soaked she is through the fabric, knowing only you can make her this wet.

For a second, the thought of Vision being the cause of her arousal flashes through your mind and reignites your jealousy.

You quickly shake the thought from your mind and yank her panties down her legs, pulling at the fabric almost desperately. You bring a hand up to cup her dripping pussy, this time with no barriers between you.

She moans when you slide two fingers inside of her, her walls clenching around your digits as you start fucking them into her. Your pace isn't soft or slow, you're far too desperate to see her cum for you, to claim her in the only way you can.

“Fuck, so good,” Wanda moans, her head thrown back against the pillow as you watch, getting off on the sight of her in the throes of pleasure. You curl your fingers and she whimpers, growing wetter under your touch. Your thumb finds its way to her clit, rubbing the swollen bud and making her arch her back with a groan.

"I'm close," Wanda says breathily in between moans, her hips meeting your thrusts almost as desperately as your fingers move inside of her.

"You wanna cum for me?" You ask, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, please," Wanda begs, her nails digging into your back as she nears her peak.

"Say you're mine," you demand without thinking straight, your eyes locked on her face, anticipating her reaction to your words. "Say you're mine and you can cum."

"Fuck," Wanda gasps, her pussy tightening around your fingers. You smirk at how her body responded to your request. "I'm yours," she breathes out, her arms wrapped around you pulling you in closer. "I'm yours, please."

"Cum for me." With that, the tight coil within Wanda snaps and she bucks her hips up sharply, a guttural moan leaving her lips as she falls apart for you. Her eyebrows are furrowed, her mouth hung open in pleasure as heavenly sounds escape her, and you can feel her walls spasming around you as she rides out her intense orgasm.

Seeing Wanda cum is one of your favorite things in the world, the way she looks when she gets off, the sounds she makes as pleasure racks her body, the way she practically rides your fingers even from underneath you. You briefly think that you could never tire of making this woman fall apart for you, that you could do it for the rest of your life and never want to miss a second of it.

In that moment, you can't help yourself. You lean down to capture her lips with your own, kissing her as she moans into your mouth. What really surprises you is how she kisses you back, her lips moving against yours tenderly, making your head spin.

Kissing Wanda is everything you imagined and more. It feels so right, you almost forget how wrong it is. The rules of your arrangement are the last thing on your mind as she hums into your mouth, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek as she kisses you. You pull away first, not wanting to take more than she's willing to give, despite feeling like you already have.

When she finally comes down from reaching her peak, she opens her eyes, looking up at you with darkened eyes and a lazy smirk on her face. It turns you on even more, the smugness in her expression, and you feel yourself blushing, fighting the urge to look away.

"That was something," she says teasingly and you groan, feeling slightly ashamed at how caught up in the moment you were.

"Don't flatter yourself," you mumble, trying to save face.

As if she can sense your embarrassment, Wanda gives you an out. "You just wanted to feel like you were in control, huh?" She coos, fake pouting as she brushes a strand of hair out of your face. "How cute."

You want nothing more than to shut her up with your lips on hers again, but you hold back, not wanting to break the rules beyond what's already been done.

You pin her wrists above her head in an attempt to regain some kind of control over the situation. There's a flash of something in Wanda's eyes, something unreadable, and before you can determine what it is, she's flipping you over onto your back.

"Uh uh. You've had your fun, it's my turn," she says, straddling your waist, and you can't help but look her over when she's giving you such a delicious view of her naked body in your lap. "You want to be good for me, baby?"

You nod, feeling almost pathetic at how easy it is for her to take back control over you. She moves up your body so her pussy is inches from your face. "Then open your mouth detka," she orders, so close you can smell her arousal, and it drives you crazy. "Make me feel good with that pretty mouth of yours."

You don't need to be told twice, pulling her hips down to meet your mouth, licking a stripe up her pussy before latching onto her clit. You eat her out like a woman starved and you don't stop until she's cum so many times she can't take any more.

When she collapses beside you in the bed, she falls into your hold and you wrap your arm around her without a second thought, keeping her close as she catches her breath. She's too tired to tell you to move away, to leave her room like you usually do when you're done fucking her silly.

You're both aware that you're breaking another rule, but it feels so good, so comforting and warm, that neither of you can find it in you to care. Within minutes, Wanda falls asleep in your arms, and you cherish the feeling of her pressed up against you so intimately, knowing that you may never get this opportunity again.

The next morning, you wake up first, making sure to leave before she stirs and finds you still in her bed. You pull the blankets over her sleeping form, taking a moment to admire her before you reluctantly exit the room.

The sex changes after that; you start staying over more, holding her close after fucking her for hours, kissing her lips to muffle her moans and shut her up when she's teasing you with her smart mouth. You're always gone before she wakes up, scared of how she might act once her high has worn off, worried that once the moment is over, she'll tell you to leave or somehow make you feel bad about breaking the rules.

But she never does bring up the rules, nor does she ever stop you from breaking them. If anything, she kisses you back just as passionately each time and presses her body back against you in the bed as if she's trying to get impossibly closer to you. She tells you she's yours when she's about to cum and she smiles when you whisper "that's right, you're mine" into her hair as you bring her pleasure.

Vision continues to flirt with Wanda and your jealousy doesn't waiver. It isn't until he asks her out on a date that you finally confess your feelings for the brunette, telling her everything you've been holding inside for so long.

You find out from Steve that Vision asked Wanda out and your heart sinks, all you can think is that you hope she said no. You get up from the couch without another word, making your way to Wanda's room, emotions high and clouding any judgment.

You knock on the door and when she opens it, you don't give her any time to greet you first. "Don't go on that date," you blurt out, looking her in the eyes as you speak.

"What are you-" she starts, but you cut her off.

"I heard about Vision. He asked you out right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Don't go out with him," you interrupt again, searching her face for any indication that she might've said yes to the date.

"Why not?" She asks, but something tells you she already knows the reason.

"Because I..." you trail off, working up the courage to tell her the truth. "Because it's me you should be going out with instead, not him," you say quietly, as if you're ashamed of the words coming out of your mouth, as if you feel bad for feeling the way you do for the woman in front of you.

When she doesn't respond, you elaborate. "I like you Wanda, and I'm sorry for breaking the most important rule but it's not like we haven't broken all the others already. I can't help how I feel about you, but if I'm not reading things wrong, I think you like me too," you rush out, holding your breath as you wait for her to say something back.

A soft smile graces her features. "You're not reading things wrong," she says simply, and that's all you need.

You smile before breaking the distance between you, your lips meeting hers in a passionate embrace, pouring all of your feelings into the kiss. You manage to close the door behind you without separating from her and pin her against it, swallowing the whimper she lets out at the feeling of being pushed back against the hard surface.

That night, you don't fuck her.

When you carry her to the bed, you touch her intimately, you bring her pleasure, you make her come undone for you, but it isn’t just sex anymore. You make love to her, no longer hiding your feelings, no longer wondering if she feels the same way.

And the next morning, when you wake up in Wanda’s bed with her curled up against you, you don’t leave.

[rafesteddy]

dilf!rafe x milf!reader au where reader and her eldest daughter have a love island obsession. And Rafe can’t stand it for the life of him

😂😂 I love this. And it’s not just Win and reader. It’s Max too 😋

600 words c/w: none

Rafe’s fully settled—slippered feet kicked up, Clemson game on, remote secure in his hand. He doesn’t even hear them coming until it’s too late.

You walk in first, still laughing from something Max said in the kitchen. Winnie trails behind, sipping from a Stanley cup while Max munches on chips, leaving a trail of crumbs in his wake—enough to earn a signature Rafe side-eye.

“Scoot over, baby,” you hum, already climbing onto the couch, tucking yourself into his big arms.

“Wait. What—Hey, what are you—”

“Thanks, Dad,” Winnie cuts him off, plucking the remote from his hand with that syrupy sweet voice that always gets her her way.

Max flops down on the other side, already wrist-deep in the chip bag. “We’re watching Love Island.”

Rafe’s brow furrows, nose wrinkling in disgust. “We were watching Clemson…”

He glances at the screen, narrowing his eyes as the music blares. Couples strut across the villa—drinks in hand, thong bikinis, abs and tattoos, yanking each other away for chats.

“What the hell is this?” He mutters.

“You’ll love it,” Winnie lies without hesitation, eyes glued to the screen as Huda and Jeremiah get into it.

“‘Cause that’s not bullshit, Jeremiah,” Max scoffs, flicking a crumb at the TV. Rafe snaps his head toward him, scandalized.

“You too?”

“Spare me the judgment,” Max sighs. “I was you once… hotter. But you nonetheless. Just wait—”

“They’re doing a kissing challenge,” Winnie announces, already grinning.

“They’re what?” Rafe clutches his invisible pearls, staring at the screen as one of the women goes down the line of guys like it’s speed dating with tongue.

“Damn… That’s a lot of tongue,” you mumble—not with enough disgust for his liking.

“How can you watch this?” He scolds you. “What the hell kind of show is this?”

Everyone just laughs. Max chucks a pillow at him. “Lighten up, old man.”

Two weeks later

Rafe’s home from a business trip, finally. He’s back on the couch, watching the news, twins down for the night, peace restored.

You, Max, and Winnie barge in like it’s choreography.

Max bats his lashes, throwing his voice an octave higher just to be annoying. “I’m a mommy.”

“Mommy?” Winnie echoes, stealing the remote from Rafe with no resistance.

“I’m a mom,” Max insists.

“Mamacita,” you and Winnie say in unison, making Rafe scowl.

“No, like—I’m a mommy,” Max hums, flipping imaginary hair.

“A mom of what? A dog?” Winnie asks, lifting the Yorkie in the air like Simba.

“I have a daughter,” Max says simply, dropping onto the couch and popping open a new bag of chips.

They laugh. Rafe rolls his eyes, scoops Teddy under one arm like a football, and scratches her head—like maybe that’ll undo the trauma of being raised in this household.

You snuggle back into him. “Wait… you’re not gonna fight us for the TV?”

Rafe blinks. “What, me? Do I have a say?”

“Naur,” Max answers, mouth full. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

Four notifications light up Rafe’s phone. Everyone freezes.

Winnie’s eyes slide sideways. She gasps. “No way. Was that—was that a Love Island alert?”

Silence.

“Enough,” Rafe mumbles.

Max leans in, dramatic. “…Dad.”

“I said enough,” Rafe mutters again, red creeping up his neck.

“You downloaded the app?!” Winnie whisper-yells, eyes wide.

Max wheezes. “Stop roasting him, you’re gonna scare him off!”

Rafe clears his notifications in a huff, grumbling, “You people are unbelievable.”

Winnie tilts her head. “Wait. Did you… vote in the recoupling?”

The room goes dead quiet and you bury your face in his chest, trying not to let him know you’re about to bust out laughing.

Rafe doesn’t move; doesn’t blink. Just stares at the screen like he can will it to start faster.

“Earth to Dad—”

“I voted based on character,” he snaps, finally. Defensive. Red-faced. Completely busted.

You snort into his shirt. Max loses it.

“My father is a Love Island baddie,” Winnie declares.

Rafe sighs, grabs the remote… but doesn’t change the channel.

He just turns up the volume.

“Shut up,” he grumbles. “It’s Casa Amor week.”

[cloudedcreams]

thinking of how a relationship with a cold! yandere would be.

he really doesn’t like for you to see him in such a way. he can’t control how monotone he is sometimes, and there are times he feels as though his affection for you is far too grand to be expressed. he hopes you know though, that you can see it in the way that he stares at you.

he’s a very giving person at heart. he doesn’t speak much, but he loves to listen! you’ll ramble off about something and he stares at you the whole time… cue a moment of you trailing off wondering if you’ve said something wrong, or should continue?

“why so shy, dove? continue, i’m invested.” he prompts, and you’re back to yapping!

your friends reaaally don’t like him though. it’d be strange if they did, enjoying the thought of you and such an apathetic person. he doesn’t care about their judgement, but he doesn’t want their views to twists yours. he’d be so happy to see you drop them but no, you’ve known them for years. he hates seeing you defend them, but so long as they quit their attempts to get you to leave him he’ll tolerate their presence around you.

“don’t let them put silly thoughts in your head. they don’t understand the two of us, truly.” he says, his forehead pressed against yours in a moment that feels far too intimate before pressing a peck against your lips and pulling back.

[casuallyanidiot]

Omg I love yandere who breaks into your home!

How about readers parents nagging them about their love life so yandere jumps into action and pretends to be readers successful boyfriend? (Now he is even more involved in readers live yay)

Just an idea love your writing <3

Yandere who broke into your home and is now somehow your fake (?) boyfriend.

Now, you'd never actually been on a date with this guy. He seemed to be glued to your apartment, so it never really crossed your mind. But when your parents plan on visiting, you realized that you couldn't just ignore him this time around.

"I'm guessing I can't get you to leave?"

"Nope. I'm staying right here."

God what a little asshole. Anyways, so that's how you ended up agreeing to fake date your stalker.

It was supposed to be a temporary thing, but with the way he was clinging to your arm and nuzzling into your shoulder, you were somewhat aware that it would probably go beyond what you had hoped. He shapes up quickly into the ideal son-in-law, with polite words, manners and a clean appearance. He even hides his shrine of you just to be safe!

He takes you on a tour of the city when your family arrives, and they're pleasantly surprised by your new partner. They had no idea you were dating someone, much less living with them. It's shocking, but seeing how sweet and well put together he is puts them at ease.

From then on your family is always asking about him.

It drives you up the wall, and he likes to tease you about it.

"See? Even your family thinks we're perfect together!"

Again, very annoying, but now you have even less reasons to be pissed that he's managed to worm his way into your life. You grumble protests at him, but he's already snapping photos of the two of you snuggled up in bed to send to your mom. You were somewhat horrified to find out that they were becoming close.

"He he, I can't wait to see your family for the holidays. I'm gonna get them gifts and spend so much time with you," he gushes, and you can't help but blush as he scrolls through a list of items that he knows you like.

You frown and huddle into your pillow. It's infuriating. Like honestly, how can he be so normal and perfect when he's obviously such a creep!? Even when you're glaring at him and wishing he would just go away, he patiently smiles at you and rubs your head before tucking you in for the night.

Man... maybe if you were actually dating, then this whole thing would be great. What a shame...

[purinfelix]

Can you do jake being babied please

a/n: i fear i can never say no to writing about babying grown men 😋 - hope u like it anon! <3 ──── read the heeseung version here !!!

Jake's a pretty open book when it comes to affection. In the early days of your relationship, you barely went anywhere without him hanging off your shoulder, weaving his hand into yours or tugging on your clothes to get your attention - touch was his way of keeping you close, of constantly reminding you that you were his. But as the two of you spent more time together, he slowly changed. Where his love used to be loud and clingy, it became softer, more deliberate, more trusting. Boyish grins and playful touches became him nudging his head against your hand, silently asking for you to play with his hair - and when you did, he'd only melt into your touch like he'd been waiting centuries for it. Some nights he'd fall into your arms like it was the most natural thing in the world, mumbling out a sleepy "missed you" in a quiet voice that sounded almost unrecognisable. He'd wrap his arms around you and sigh, like he was finally letting himself relax - your sign to press soft kisses to the top of his head. It was quiet moments like these, when he let himself be small, be himself, with you and without shame, that showed truly how much he trusted you. And when he would pull his face out of the crook of your neck, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes, flushed cheeks and slightly pouted lips, you were reminded that not only were you his, but that he was, forever and always, yours.

[ruinix]

Quinn being all clingy after you came home from a business trip. Can I ask for...no smut...or not... idk

Hello, lovely. I don't mind writing no smut. 🫡🥹 I fear I have written this with slight angst… I don’t know why. I’m sorry if you don’t want that. [Anyway, there is a bonus content for this with your POV (it's the voices, i swear), but you don’t need to read it.] Hopefully, you’ll like this. 🧎🏻‍♀️

Blues and Ease

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Fluff (cuddles and kisses), showering together (conserve water jk), a dash of separation anxiety Quinn so a bit of Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Count: 1483 words (+ 483) | Masterlist | Taglist

You’re still not home. Quinn paces again and again. You still haven’t messaged him when he told you to text him if you landed. He wants to pick you up at the airport, but you refuse him. Now, he’s here stressing because you still haven’t messaged him.

He's not used to you going on a business trip. You go on vacation, sure, but he’s usually there with you. He’s not used to not seeing you next to him when he wakes up. Not used to the silence of his—and your—house anymore.

He can cope when it’s him on a road trip, because he is not here. He doesn’t see your clothes, your towels, your perfumes, your trinkets, your plants, and everything else in a hotel room. There are no hints and memories of you there. He calls you every time. He sees you doing your stuff—work or hobbies—with yourhome in the background. It eases his soul.

But not this. Not this house with your things and no you. No soft hums. No walking and pacing, just because. No you on lazing on the sofa with whatever show on one TV, reserving the other for him. No keyboard sounds of you typing. No you eating dinner with him. He hates it.

It's the worst. The worst week of his life.

Everything is not right when you’re not here.

His home is not a home without you. He needs you here.

His heart squeezes. Tears glaze his vision. You’re just gone for a week and he’s losing it. He’s usually gone for a couple for his road trips. You must be enduring this. You are so much stronger than him. You are patiently waiting for him while also cheering him on every time. Unlike him who is being all pathetic because you’re just gone for a week—

Quinn hears the front door open and close. He immediately turns and sees you with your suitcase and a huge bag of chocolates…and flowers? Whatever, because relief is flooding his body.

You’re here.

“Quinn, I’m home!” You dash towards him.

You’re home.

Quinncatches you in a tight embrace. He says, “Welcome back.” He buries his face in the crook of your neck and takes a big inhale. Roses, today.

He misses you so much. He misses this. Holding you. Feeling how perfect you feel in his arms. Basking in your warmth.

It doesn’t matter if you didn’t tell him your plane landed. You’re here. That’s enough.

“Quinn,” you giggle, pressing a kiss on his neck, your hands pushing him off.

It makes him swallow a whine. He doesn’t want to part from you. Even an inch distance is making him want to cry.

“I got you chocolates and flowers.” You push them to his arms. “I need to shower,” you say, kissing him on the lips, walking towards the bedroom.

He blinks at the gifts. He thought it was yours. It’s…for him? His heart speeds up. His spirit that was down in the depths of loneliness lifts. You brought him flowers. Him. Flowers. And chocolates.

He feels nothing else but giddy as he places them on the counter and hastily puts them in a vase. He needs to trim up the stems. Put water in it. Research what these flowers are. He has no clue. Later. He’ll do that later.

Now, Quinn wants to be with you. The smallest distance from you right now is making his head spin, his heart ache. He can’t not be with you right now. He’ll die.

He stands at the bathroom door that’s ajar. He can hear the shower running, can feel its steam, can see the trail of clothes on the floor which he knows you’ll put away after your shower. Just one of your silly quirks.

“Can I join you?” He asks, knocking on the doorframe.

“Yes please,” you reply.

He’s so quick to undress. He joins you in the unexplainably hot shower. It doesn’t matter to him even if it’s scalding to the point of burns—it’s not. It doesn’t matter. No hot water can come between him and you. He hugs you from behind, humming when you say you want to shampoo your hair. It can wait.

“Just wanna hug you.” He kisses your temple. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Quinny.” You turn your head and smile so lovingly. “But I really need to shower. I came from the airport. It was a long flight.”

He's so mesmerized with the water cascading your skin. With the lightest pout on your lips when he doesn’t let go. With your lips still stained by your lipstick. With how your wet lashes group together. With the curves of your eyebrows. Every feature he has memorized, dreamed about, and kissed. You’re marvelous.

Why did the week rob him of you? Why did it feel like you were gone for much longer? Why did it hurt so much this time?

“Quinn?” you call in worry, spinning to face him, hands on his cheeks. “Why are you crying, my Love?”

“Not crying,” he shakily says. “It’s just water.”

“Don’t lie to me, Quintin.”

He shudders, leaning against the wall, taking you with him. “You weren’t home.” It sounds so pathetic, his voice breaking. “I know it’s work. I know. I understand but you weren’t home. It was so quiet. I’m not used to quiet anymore.”

You turn off the water, hugging him. One hand around waist. One hand on his nape to hold him, forehead to forehead. You let him sob. Every tear feels like the release of every chain weighing him down. Every broken breath comes easier and better. All because of your touch, your warmth, your presence. God, he misses you.

“I don’t want you to think you can’t go on another trip, because of this, because of me. You can. I just…It hurts,” he admits.

Your lips capture his. A small, chaste kiss that eases his soul. You rub your hand over his chest where his heart slowly mends itself just by being with you.

You gently say, “I’ll always come home to you, Quinn.”

“Please do.” He tightens his hug. “Please.”

“I promise.” You grab his cheeks. “Do the same for me?”

“You’re my home.” Quinn presses a kiss on your palms, murmuring his promises and affirmations, capitalizing on your touch. “You complete me.”

Quinn knows you would retort that you two are complete pieces that perfectly fit together. But you didn’t today. You only smile as you repeat his words. Oh, his love for you just grows day by day. Moment by moment.

After a few more minutes of just hugging each other, you shower. Quinn just stands there, while you do your routine. He helps when you need to scrub your back and your legs—he doesn’t mind going on his knees to do so—or wash away the suds from your hair.

Even if he gets soapy, he remains there with a hand constantly touching you. Your hip. Arm. Back. Shoulder. Your finger. The tips of your hair. He can’t not touch you. You let him, perfectly understanding how to soothe his need.

He's happy just helping you shower. Then you turn on him and wash him. He already took a shower this morning, but shamelessly, he can’t turn you away. He’ll spoil right back…later. Now, he likes your attention. He relishes your touch, your stories about your trip, your new skincare finds, and most of all, your smiles. You’re so beautiful. So gentle when you condition his hair.

“There we go. Now both of us are clean.” You brush your nose against his. “Boop.”

He misses that. Your silliness. He’s not making it up when he says you complete him. It’s real. So real because you make him happy. You make him feel loved. That’s enough for Quinn. You’re enough.

Oh, he loves you so much.

When both of you are dry including your hair, you cuddle together on your bed, wearing matching sweatpants and sweatshirts. Both of your hands casually slide underneath your shirts, drawing circles on each other’s backs.

Quinn shares what he did during the week. He tells you about the white socks he mistakenly included with the colors which made it an ugly gray. About the media he’s done for the Canucks’ social media. About the potatoes he stupidly burned this morning because he was out of it. About the dinner with his teammates.

He tells you different things.

Simple things.

But you stare at him with sparks in your eyes. Your gentle voice resonates in his chest as you ask and share too.

It spurs him on to ramble.

On and on.

Until both of you are yawning and blinking slowly. Quinn swears he can hear your heartbeats seemingly in sync. Strong for one another. A little lullaby that pushes you two to slumber.

˚｡⋆ ❀ ˖ Bonus: Your POV ˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚

You stare at Quinn. His hands are all wrapped up around your middle. His legs are tangled with yours. His soft exhales tickle your face, but you let it. You want to tug on his long eyelashes. No, you are going to tug on them when he suddenly murmurs your name. It stops you from pestering him, but it doesn’t stop you from slipping your arms beneath his so you can hug him. He does the same, pulling you further into him. All while still sleeping.

He’s so pretty when he sleeps. So adorable. Pressing a ghost of a kiss on his nose, you continue to silently gaze at him. 

You two slept from yesterday’s afternoon through today’s morning. Quinn is still sleeping, but you’ve been awake for an hour. It’s a long sleep but not surprising. It happened many times before. Just the two of you sleeping through everything. Too comfortable in your private bubble.

Your heart tugs. You’re so comfortable with him. So deeply in love with Quinn.

His cuddles are something you always miss whenever he’s on the road. Even more when you were on your trip. When he cried yesterday… your heart squeezes. It hurts to see him cry—hurts to think about it.

Although, Quinn being so clingy makes you warm all over. It’s his need for you. Not his pain. Never his pain. It’s the way he kept touching you even when you were showering. The way he melts into your touch. You like that. You love that, because you also cling to him. So. Much.

You bought him chocolates and flowers because he deserves them too. Deserves to know your love. He’s always been working so hard.

The shower with him is great, but you can top that. Stealthily, you slip from his hold, replacing yourself with a nearby pillow and a stuffed toy—a bear with a small Canucks jersey and a number 43—for good measure.

Quinn likes baths. He always joins you, so to spoil your beloved, you start a bath. Vanilla sounds great today—

“You were gone,” his panicked voice made you jump more than his sudden touch.

It hadn’t been five minutes. “Just preparing us a bath, Quinn.”

“I wanna do that with you. I’ll do it with you.”

Quinn doesn’t really need to panic or be desperate. You’ll do whatever he wants. You guess your Quinn is still needy and hurt. Good thing, you’re here to make him feel better. You hold his hands tightly, nodding before kissing him. The small shudders that wreck his body thrum your soul.

Well then, you need to call for a day-off tomorrow.

For your Love who needs reassurance that you will be with him forever.

For your Quinn who desperately yearns for your touch.

Well, you also feel the same way, so it’s no big deal. Not at all. Never at all.

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[hanafubukki]

I can imagine Yuu feeling a tad bit heartbroken seeing Malleus's broken horns but mayb he explains to them,

"Don't mourn the power I lost so no need to shed your tears for me. Matter of fact, I ought to pay Shroud in kind for this. I can express joy without setting the world ablaze, I can cry without causing a blizzard, and I can finally get angry without causing an earthquake! I feel so free now! Plus, it's a horn. Much like with your hair, it'll grow back."

Hello Dorkus 💚🌺💞

The Malleus loosing his horn feels are still strong 😭💔

But he’s happy, so we’re happy. But in the end, he still got hurt and that guilt I can still see be there whether from family and/or friends.

Summary: Malleus eases your burden.

You keep looking at his horn. You can’t help it.

It shouldn’t have come to this. You knew it was for the best. Yet, just like the others, you couldn’t help the tinge of guilt whenever you saw Malleus’ broken horn.

“Am I a captive animal for you to stare at in such a way?”

You startle before shaking your head, “No! It’s not that at all.”

“I merely jest. Breaking the ice as Lilia would say. You seemed to have developed a fascination for my horns more so than my tail now. What fascinates you?”

You couldn’t look him in the eyes. How? How do you tell him? This guilt you have. Something that’s irrational but there anyways?

“You feel burdened by my broken horn.”

You look at him with widened eyes. The face before you is soft and understanding-it’s a look you haven’t ever seen on him before.

“You are not the only one to feel this way. Silver and Sebek have been skittish around me. They behave as if one mistake would lead to treasonous acts against me.”

He walks ahead of you before turning towards you. The sight before you leaves you breathless. The moon shines on him. Giving him an unearthly glow that only fae kind can exhibit-no, only he could present as his tail appears in a swirl and scales appear along his back.

The fae that stood before you was not a simple classmate of yours nor did he portray a prince. No, Malleus Draconia right now shone like a God descended from the heavens.

Did the damage to his horn mean he couldn’t hide his draconic features anymore? How could one who lost so much be able to stand in such a celestial form? When to others, he seemed to be a dragon dragged from the heavens and tamed?

“You do not need to feel burdened by the power I lost. Matter of fact, Shroud has provided me a boon.”

Malleus raised his face to the moon’s light as if seeking comfort from an old friend.

“For many years, all I have known is isolation. Numbness. I could never cry, laugh, or anger easily. To do so meant bringing harm to those around me.”

“It was,” Malleus hesitated, as if the words were new to him, “…difficult.”

When he turned towards you then, you are surprised to see his eyes worn despite his ethereal visage.

“What you humans take for granted, I was never allowed. But now?” Malleus chuckled, “Now I can be free to be who I am.”

Malleus offered his hand, beckoning you to lay yours on top of his, “Come, Child of Man, lay your worries to rest.”

He smirked at you, “Unless you prefer me when I’m dark and dreary?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that came out, “Pffft hahaha I prefer you however you want to be.”

You laid your hand on top of his, “I want you to be happy Tsunotaro.”

“I am.”

You smiled widely at him. The gleam in your eyes has his crinkling in return.

There’s the smile I adore from My Child of Man.

….I have no idea where that description about Malleus in the middle passages came from but *pokes at brain* brain do it more. I demand it. Lolol 😆💚💞 (randomly had inspiration for this and I ran lol)

Malleus the fae that you are 😭💞💙 You’ve been through so much but stayed kind despite it all. 🥺🥺

I hope you liked this Dorkus 💙💙💚💚🫂🫂