Stella Coffa x Female Reader
Note: It's just a little fluff and spice for this first part, but don't worry- I'll feed more in pt. 2
Absolutely, completely, irrevocably screwed.
Because after that night in the library, there was no going back.
Stella didn’t change overnight—not entirely. She still played her games, still teased, still carried herself with that same untouchable air of confidence.
Now there was a difference.
Now, every touch lingered just a little too long.
Now, every glance held something heavier, something unspoken.
Now, when she passed by your desk, her fingers would ghost over the inside of your wrist, barely there, just enough to leave heat in their wake.
And God, it was maddening.
But you weren’t about to let her have all the control.
A week later, you found your chance.
The library was quiet, as usual, the overhead lights casting long shadows across the shelves. Stella sat at one of the tables near the back, a book open in front of her.
You approached slowly, watching as she lazily turned a page, her nails tapping idly against the paper.
“You actually reading that,” you murmured, “or just pretending so you can lurk?”
She smirked, not looking up. “And if I said both?”
You hummed, stepping closer, resting a hand on the edge of the table. “I’d say you’re slipping.”
That made her glance up, brow arching. “Slipping?”
You shrugged, leaning in slightly—close enough to catch the way her breath hitched, just for a second.
“You’re predictable,” you mused, tilting your head. “All these little games. All the teasing. But you don’t actually do anything about it.”
Her expression didn’t change. But you saw the flicker in her eyes—the slight tightening of her jaw.
She closed the book slowly, deliberately.
You smirked, shifting closer. “Or what?”
For the first time since this whole thing started, you had her cornered.
For the first time, she was the one waiting.
And God, you could get used to this.
You reached down, brushing your fingers against the back of her hand, tracing slow, idle patterns.
“Tell me something, Ms. Coffa,” you murmured, your voice low, teasing. “How long are you planning to drag this out?”
You smiled, pleased, and moved to pull back—
But you never should’ve let your guard down.
Because before you could take a single step, she grabbed your wrist—firm, unyielding, dangerous.
Then, so fast you barely had time to react, she stood, pressing you back against the nearest bookshelf, her body flush against yours.
Her lips hovered just inches from yours, her hand braced beside your head, trapping you in place.
And when she finally spoke, her voice was pure, velvety.
“You really think you can turn the tables on me?”
She smirked, tilting her head slightly, letting the tension pull, stretching it just to the breaking point.
Then—softly, deliberately—
You exhaled sharply, glaring at her, but any retort you had died the second she leaned in, brushing her lips just barely over the corner of your mouth.
Then she pulled back, as composed as ever, smoothing a hand down the front of her coat.
You were still pinned against the shelf, still trying to breathe, when she reached for her book, tucking it under her arm with an infuriating smirk.
And with that, she strolled off, leaving you standing there, wrecked all over again.
…You really should have backed down when you had the chance.
Two days later, you made your next move.
The library was empty, save for the two of you. Stella sat at her usual table, lazily flipping through a book, her attention half on the pages, half on you.
You felt her watching as you moved around the room, running your fingers along the spines of books, pretending to search for something.
You already knew exactly what you wanted.
A book sat on one of the higher shelves, just slightly out of reach.
You stretched up on your toes, fingers just barely grazing the spine, biting back a smile when you heard Stella shift behind you.
You stretched a little more. Let out a soft huff of frustration.
The quiet exhale. The rustle of fabric as she stood.
Sure enough, before you could even glance back, her presence loomed behind you, heat radiating from where she stood far too close.
A slow smirk curled at your lips.
Her voice, low, amused. “Need help, sweetheart?”
You hummed, tilting your head slightly but not looking back. “Depends. You offering?”
She chuckled softly, and then—without warning—her hand brushed against your hip as she reached past you.
You almost lost your composure.
She plucked the book from the shelf with ease, but just as she moved to hand it to you—
A misstep. A sharp inhale. The sudden, unexpected force of her body knocking against yours—
And then, before you could even process what was happening—
Her hands caught herself against the wood beside your head.
Her body, flush against yours.
Your heart was a hammer in your chest, pulse pounding, your hands braced against her waist from sheer instinct.
And then—slowly, so damn slowly—
“Well,” she murmured, voice like velvet. “Isn’t this interesting?”
Your fingers twitched against her waist, and her smirk only deepened.
“What’s wrong, darling?” she teased, her voice a slow, dangerous drawl. “Not so cocky now, are you?”
You scowled, shifting against her—but that was a mistake.
Her fingers flexed against the shelf.
And suddenly, the teasing wasn’t just teasing anymore.
Her smirk faltered—just slightly.
Your breathing shallowed.
Neither of you looked away.
Then, softly—deliberately—Stella’s fingers ghosted over the side of your throat, tracing lightly down to your collarbone.
She exhaled sharply, eyes dark.
Then, voice barely above a whisper—
“What am I going to do with you?”
Your fingers curled against her coat.
And, pulse hammering, you finally answered—
titsay
ellievsbear
tangentwithtanner
andulkaphoto
vaporwave
