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romanoffsbish · 6 months

Text

The Understudy

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

“Natasha x F!R”

Natasha Romanoff x Maria Hill

Warnings: Jealousy | Yandere—Attempted Murder (if you squint) | Mutual Pinning (Simping)

Natasha was a charismatic woman—sure, yet you found yourself enraptured by her gorgeous understudy—Wanda. | WC: 6,945

Request: “anything about jealous top!wanda and just having her way with fem reader sounds good to me” | College AU

I am so sorry it took so long @wandagcre 😩

18+ | Minors DNI

Wanda let a harsh breath leave her as she glared up to see as Natasha circled you like a hawk and if not for the sake of her credibility around campus with the faculty she wouldn't have let the other woman grip you by the hips and pull you in. The both of you wore wide grins as Natasha's nose nudged yours, pushing your face to the side as she gently cupped your cheeks, Wanda was rather close to combusting at the intended next move.

——

“Cut!"

The moment your professor called out the command you separated from your cast mate with a softer smile. Yet Wanda's jealousy didn't simmer, relief far away when the redhead still kept your attention on her.

Natasha pulled you back in, but only for a friendly hug.

"I just wanted to say, thanks for trusting me Y/N/N."

"It's easy to do," you giggled and squeezed her tight, then you parted ways and went to collect your bags.

There was a tension in the air as you prepared to leave that you didn't quite understand, so you sought it out. After glancing around the room for a moment you saw the source—Wanda Maximoff, Natasha's understudy with her eyes angrily cast upon the Russian's face.

She's also the unobtainable woman of your dreams, or so you deemed as you'd yet to approach her with more than a bit of shop talk. Normally the brunette would carry the interaction and nine times out of ten it was perfectly pleasant. However, Wanda always seemed standoffish when you weren't alone, which made you think that maybe she didn't want people to see you two as anything more than potential on stage partners.

Oh what a fool you were, because as you hurriedly waltzed out of the auditorium you avoided her stare that had shifted over to you—a longing glance that lingered long after the large oak doors shut behind you.

——

A week had come and gone, the show was not far off and it was coming together nicely. You and Natasha practiced your lines religiously and kept the bond between you both strong for the sake of chemistry and your overall grade as this show would be your final. In return, a beautiful friendship had been forged and you were more than grateful for the expanded circle.

All that stood in your way was the darn kiss, your heart not only yearned for another, but Natasha's had one which only seemed to make you more nervous.

You'd recently met her girlfriend, Maria Hill, when you went to their dorm to go over the script two weeks ago.

It was a bit intimidating, but when she offered you a chocolate chip cookie and help on your homework you knew she was the perfect partner for your new friend.

Natasha dreamed of making it big, and to do that she'd need a partner who understood that intimate scenes were just a part of the job, not a slight against her.

The woman even gave you her blessing last night with a warm smile, "I trust you." That alone had eased most tension you had left for the show; you were ready.

—

Today was the play's opening day, the set pieces were complete and the scenes ran to perfection. Besides the kiss, the both of you only ever got close to sharing a passionate lip-lock for the sake of show business. It was however not too necessary until today to share it.

When you walked onto stage you skipped over to the redhead who was casually reading out of a textbook.

"Hey Tasha," you greeted, the redhead peered up as she mindlessly closed the book to see your smile. It was adorable how nervous you were honestly, the kiss was only a blip in the play—lasting less than ten seconds.

This is a PG-13 university production after all.

"Hey honey," she greeted, tone sweet as can be in an attempt to ease your tense shoulders and it worked.

For the most part anyways. "A-are you ready?"

Natasha smiled, "I am," then sighed, "but, are you?"

You nodded unconvincingly and she stood to her feet so that she could approach you, her hand cupped your cheek as she stared into your eyes. "Follow my lead."

A nervous smile was all you offered the woman who moved in even closer, her warm breath on your cheek felt rather comforting. "We don't even have to kiss, all we have to do is make the audience believe it happens."

"I don't want to disappoint people," you muttered with a nervous conviction and the redhead chuckled softly. "No one will leave knowing, I'm an amazing actress."

You giggled and Natasha beamed knowing that she'd at least calmed a bit of your nerves. To the both of you it was obvious that her touch was meant to make you ease into the concept of the intimacy, but to onlookers it would almost present as an act of personal affection.

The redhead waited for you to make a move, but it was not something you had time for as you quickly realized that the prop above your heads was teetering in the air.

Wanda had been stood behind the red draped curtain fuming, her hand reflexively wrapped around the string that suspended the hefty prop above Nat's head. There was no conscious intent when she yanked down, it was purely reflexive as she watched you two practice.

It was all you could do to yank the woman out of the line of impact before the piece shattered on the stage.

"Holy shit Nat," you squealed, "that was a close call!"

"Yeah," the redhead hardly acknowledged you, eyes too focused in on the blur of familiar black and red hues weaving between the curtains. "Are you okay Nat?"

No, she most definitely was not, but she'd pretend.

The redhead internally rolled her eyes, but pressed on as if the freak accident wasn't premeditated. To your face at least, because not even ten minutes later—after she convinced you all was well did she go find the perp.

"Maximoff," she growled as she found the woman in her usual spot, "I am not an oblivious idiot like Y/N."

Natasha cringed at her own words, it wasn't right to diss you but to be fair, she just nearly lost her head.

"I haven't a clue what you are going on about," she chirped bitterly, not even remotely covering her big feelings. "How unkind you are to poor Y/N though."

"Y/N and I have a fine working relationship," she immediately set the woman straight, "She's a sweet person and if you stopped being so broody maybe you could be the one she hangs out with after practices."

"I'm just the understudy," she reminded Natasha, who rolled her eyes in frustration at her petty behavior.

"You need to let it go Wanda," she groaned, "I am the theater major, you are only taking this for an elective."

Wanda stood and whisper shouted, "I want it more!"

"No," Natasha corrected as she stepped to her, a clear sign she wasn't afraid of the brunette with the raging anger problems. "You want Y/N more, which is 100% by the way because all she is to me is a friend!"

"I see the way you look at her," Wanda sneered.

"That's because it is my job, Wanda," Natasha scoffed in genuine offense before adding, "I have Maria."

Wanda glared inquisitively, "Who the hell is Maria?"

"My girlfriend since freshman year of high school."

"Oh."

Natasha chuckled agitatedly, "Yeah, so if you could refrain from trying to kill me again I'd appreciate it very much. I've planned to live a long life with her."

"I," Wanda was honestly stunned into silence. "It was an accident—but originally, I wasn't really sorry."

"At least you're honest," Natasha chuckled amusedly. "Don't confuse this moment Maximoff," the redhead continued, "I might not be a threat but you know as well as I do that Y/N is a catch—don't drag your feet."

"I know, but I can't talk to her about anything other than this stupid class," Wanda admitted in lieu of her masked pride faltering. "She's just so pretty, and soft, it's like I lose the ability to form thoughts around her."

"Pretty things are meant to be taken and cherished," the Russian teased, smile fond as she remembered what it's like to fall in love for the first time; Natasha wanted that for you too. "Trust me Wanda, Y/N is easy to talk to and I hypothesize she would be thrilled if you did, maybe try your luck tonight at the after party."

Natasha playfully acted out taking a shot as she winked at the up until now, sapphic disaster, then she swiftly left the room to let her ponder. When she returned to the stage she found you yelling at the stagehands. She shook her head in amusement then made her way over to save the poor students from your misguided wrath...

—

When you calmed down you found yourself hidden away in your dressing room staring at your reflection. There was this unspoken tension in the air once again and it made you feel queasy. It was hard for you to tell if it was first night jitters or something else entirely.

Deep down you knew it was an unwarranted sadness, one that you associated with the fact that the course would be over after this weekends line up of shows and you'd yet to find the courage to truly speak to Wanda.

"Hey, did you understand the acting prompt," and "That was a weird film to show a class full of women," were not effective ways to speak with your crush.

You knew that, but every time you built up the courage to ask her if she wanted to hang out you remembered the way she looked at you whenever you were around others. A loud sigh left you at the painful reminder that nearly made you miss the faint knock at your door.

"Come in," you meekly called out as you stood up to face whomever it was. Wanda quietly closed your door and walked into the room with a forced confidence.

"Oh, hey Wanda," you chuckled nervously, "Is Nat ok?"

You weren't sure why you asked that in greeting, but it's also not rocket science since she's her understudy. The question wasn't meant to offend either but it did as Wanda considered the possibility that she didn't have a chance with you, but then you gave her a soft smile and she remembered why she was here in the first place.

"She's fine," she politely replied, then she took a step closer and wordlessly returned your smile. You tilted your head slightly and she understood. "I just wanted to come by and wish you luck, though we both know you aren't going to need it. You're a rockstar onstage."

Wanda found amusement in the way your eyes avoided looking into her own momentarily. Once you finally found the courage to look into hers your smile had softened, which had the same effect on her heart.

"Th-thanks Wanda," you stuttered and so she got the confirmation that Natasha basically gave her earlier without exactly saying it. You liked her just the same, something she caught as your eyes fell to her lips, it was brief but obvious enough to fill her with glee.

The woman giggled and leaned forward to place a seemingly friendly kiss, to you, on your cheek. "Break a leg out there sweetheart, I'll see you later at the party."

As soon as she left the room you fell back into your chair with a wide grin and giggled, a hand on the cheek where you could still feel a damp warmth from her lips.

The nerves in your body had all but vanished, so when you were called to the stage an hour later you strutted onto the platform with confidence and it showed in the way you acted every scene to perfection. Even the kiss.

Natasha and you shared a sweet kiss, one that you let her lead as she had the natural acting chops. It was honestly terrible since all you could imagine as her lips moved against yours was what Wanda's would be like.

Your friend's lips tasted like cherry chapstick with faint hints of nicotine that you planned to admonish her for later on after the show. There was perceivable heat to it but the truth was it was void of any genuine passion.

When the two of you parted there was a sweet smile on your lips to mirror the sentiment of your characters, and it only grew wider when you saw Wanda watching. There was something special about the way she looked at you, with a tight smile but a warmth still remained.

For the first time this whole semester you felt hopeful.

—

At the party you were the focus of everyone's attention, loud cheers and genuine accolades met you at every corner in partner with Natasha's. The redhead took it all with a wide smile and thanks, but you however did not have the courage to be so proud. Your friend did her best to take the attention, seeing you look so shy.

When the chance to break away presented itself you took it, heading to the kitchen where you found an array of substances. Just as you reached out for a packed joint you felt a large, soft hand on yours.

"Oh," you chuckled awkwardly, "you can have it."

"We could share," a raspy voice proposed, her hand fell to your hip without request and you slightly stiffened. "You were amazing tonight Y/N, so let's celebrate."

The woman's words made you feel unhappily queasy. "I-I, um," you began to stutter, unsure how to tell this stranger that you wanted to celebrate with another.

"My room is upstairs," she cluelessly teased, as if your stance alone wasn't uncomfortable. "Move on Santos."

Wanda internally beamed when she saw you turn to her with a beyond grateful gaze, the shift breaking you free from the strangers hold and subconsciously closer to her. The horny blonde however wasn't open to being cockblocked so she turned as well and moved closer until their chests brushed. "Last I checked I don't take orders from you, Maxipad, so how about you move on."

Wanda's head tilted dangerously and you felt a flutter of joy in your chest, as well as desire between your legs. The woman caught sight of your thighs clamping and smirked triumphantly, "How about we ask Y/N?"

Your eyes widened, but your lips obediently opened as Wanda seemed to not shy away from you in public.

"What's your name?" The blonde deflated, "Raya."

"It's nice to meet you Raya," you lied with a friendly smile, "But I promised to meet Wanda at the party."

"Well, you heard her," Wanda boasted, her hand reached out and took the blunt from your fingers and smugly handed it over to the blonde in obvious pity.

The moment Raya departed you felt a ringed hand in yours, and you latched on eagerly, letting her guide you through the crowd and up the stairs to an empty room.

As if the universe deemed your dreams worth reality you felt her hands grip your hips and lips catch yours. Wanda decided since talking wasn't her strong suit that she'd start by giving into her urges first. The moment was nothing but carnal, her bare knee slid between your thighs and pressed against your core.

With elegance in her every movement she guided you over to the bed and pressed into you deeper, your thinly veiled pussy rubbed against her skin and you mewled so harshly your swollen lips had to separate.

"Wan-," the redhead shushed you with a gentle peck of her lips that reassured your nervous heart. Alongside her eyes that were full of a warmth that told you this wasn't going to be a once off itch to scratch. "Mommy needs you to stop thinking detka, let me help you."

Amusement tickled in Wanda's throat at the pliant nod you gave, adoration in her heart as your eyes glazed over and body melted further into the mattress. The glare in her eyes reminded you to speak, "please."

The permission left your lips in a breathless whine and so the redheads hands slid beneath your dress that she apparently already bunched at your hips, the cold of her fingers as they tauntingly trailed over your skin made you gasp. "I've been waiting for you to say it," she interrupted your moment of shock with words that brought an adorable pout to your lips. Wanda chuckled as she watched the curiosity fade beneath the surface of your lust as her thumbs brushed over your nipples.

It was embarrassing the way she reduced you into a wordless mess, her knee a contributing factor until she abruptly pulled it away. Viridescent eyes that were reminiscent of obsidian stones, in their active state of lust, stared down at you with a warning not to whine. Wanda beamed at your understanding and rewarded you with her lips back on yours for a fleeting moment.

A sloppy kiss to your jaw, hands roaming over your body, a goddess straddling your waist in a skirt that was much too short for her intentions for tonight to have been anything but what it already was; sinful.

You were somehow expected to remain cognizant, it was a ludicrous notion, so you didn't, all you could do was move just as she asked of you until you were moaning beneath her as her core brushed over yours.

The motion was repeated, a shiver ran down your spine at the sound of her pleasure that loudly followed up yours, it was a sound you never wanted to lose. Her movements picked up, a bare pussy against a covered one and you wanted to scream at the unfair advantage she had over you as her moans overshadowed yours.

Wanda admired your innate understanding to not touch without permission, the way you kept your fidgeting hands at the top of the mattress made her decide to reward you with even more stimulation. Especially since it was mostly her feeling pleasure as she'd yet to remove an article of clothing from you. So in a blur of erratic movements you found yourself in a more exposed state, cold air brushed over your sweaty body as your dress was haphazardly tossed aside. "Oh," Wanda hummed, "so much prettier than I dreamed."

Dreamed. The erratic beating of your heart against your ribcage actually lessened as you heard her admit to having thought about you like this before, her words from before began to make sense now too. Suddenly you were closer to the edge, a bright smile adorned your face fleetingly as you felt the delicious coiling of pleasure in your abdomen. Only to be made better as Wanda's plump lips wrapped around your nipple.

A loud cry left you when the fabric of your panties delicately stimulated your clit, "mommy please." The honorific left your lips easily, it clearly wasn't a trained response to her prior claim to it, but a natural reaction. Wanda bit into the plush flesh of your breast, arousal clear as you felt it seeping into your drenched panties.

Wanda rasped, "Wanna cum with mommy?" The smirk she wore went unnoticed by you, with the crossed eyes and agape mouth that muttered out a strangled, 'yes' as she peered up from your heaving chest. If she was possessive before it wasn't noticeable to you, but all the little moments—like the glares she sent Nat's way, now made sense as she spoke. "Tell me who you belong to," she requested this with a bite to her tone that matched the darkness in her eyes. Her teeth scraped up from the sensitive skin between your breasts to your throat.

There was no hesitation in you to reply, "mommy."

Wanda sped up her hips and started to suck harshly on nearly every inch of skin she could, intent obvious as she set out to prove your words correct. "Let go detka," she purred before her teeth sunk into your shoulder, her determined hips stuttered, the both of you writhed in tandem and the brunette pressed into you harder.

While you gasped for air the Sokovian smiled, her own breathing labored but not nearly as bad as yours. A sense of accomplishment washed over her, remaining for a sweet moment before she craved more of you. You blearily whimpered at the insinuation of her lips as they moved down your tense body, harsh love bites and soft kisses left behind—usually one after the other.

Her ministrations more than enough to have you squirming in anticipation for what you hoped was coming next. Wanda's lips pressed to your hips, then upturned cockily as they impatiently bucked of their own volition, her teeth once again scraped over your soft skin, this time over your pelvis before they had a hold of your panties so she could slowly pull them off.

Wanda was about half way down your legs before she just couldn't hold herself back anymore, the smell of you was far too enticing, so she stopped abruptly and rushed upwards with her tongue out. A lewd moan left your lips as she hummed in satisfaction, tongue vicious as it continued to lick at your sensitive, swollen pussy.

For a brief second you could only feel the warmth of her breath as she pulled away just to really breathe you in, her nose affectionately nuzzled against your clit as she inhaled and kissed your sloppy folds that tingled with need. "Oh my," she chuckled, "you're too divine."

Wanda was impossibly lost in you, initially she was going to tease you further, but then she couldn't stop. Her tongue was a beast as it lavished your intimacy just to prolong the taste of your essence on her buds. The way your slick settled against her plumped upper lip was a comforting promise that you'd linger on her face in the morning. Wanda felt like a fucking pervert with the way her mind ran wild with depraved things that would surely require a deeper conversation first.

If you'd let her, she would devour you whole, much like she was doing now. You felt like she'd split you open, her thumbs dug into the soft flesh of your ass cheeks to spread your pussy just a little bit wider and a hum of appreciation followed as you dripped down her chin.

There was no stop to her madness until you broke the silent rule, allowing your hand to drop down and slip between the messy strands of her hair. It was instinct, and so it wasn't admonished right away, the woman actually loved the way that you both pushed her away and pulled her even closer when she pulled your clit between her lips as two fingers entered you and curled.

The sound of you spilling out and onto some random persons sheets caught your attention just as it did hers. Wanda marveled at the sight of your aromatic arousal that coated her fingers, palm, and dripped from her wrist, meanwhile you were shyly covering your face.

Wanda chuckled, "look at mommy detka, it's okay," her fingers gently tugged at your wrists and you peered up to find her slick, grinning face hovering above yours. "These are my sheets," the brunette added, then she chuckled as your eyes widened comically, you didn't know how she knew but you didn't care much as you had other things on your mind, like the sex you desperately wanted more of and, "you're in a sorority?"

The woman took no offense to the question, the bias of pink wearing, former cheerleading stars being the only ones to join the rush life was common. Most of the girls in the sisterhood she claimed didn't exactly look like Wanda, with her dark makeup, edgy clothes and lower arm sleeve tats, she couldn't really question the shock.

The conversation however was boring, the reason why being that her mom wanted her daughter to follow in her Delta footsteps and so the brunette did, because her parents sacrificed a lot to come here as teens. It was the least she could do, and even less interesting for her to reminisce over so she simply brushed by it as her fingers distracted you by collecting your slick.

"Such a loud, pretty thing you are," she teased as you gasped, her lithe fingers having swirled over your clit before they lifted to her already glistening lips, "I bet I'll have you moaning even louder, like a bitch in heat, with my cock pounding into your tight, needy hole."

Wanda admired the lust fueled darkness that swirled in your otherwise soft eyes. "Would you want that?"

"Of course," you blurted without shame, a smile of reassurance offered that led her right off of the bed.

When the brunette returned from her closet she was surprised to see you sat up, patiently waiting and keeping an eye out for her return. No words were spoken as you saw her skirt fall, eyes completely focused in on her glistening pussy that dripped slick down her gorgeous, muscular thighs. A chuckle pulled you from your thoughts, you slowly lifted your gaze and eyed your almost screen partner with a pout.

"If you're good," she began as she made her way to the foot of the bed, making a show as her voice dropped and her body slowly crawled toward you, "I'll let you get a taste." Wanda adored the way your eyes lit up, but she couldn't help but to tease you as her body pressed into yours. "Well, unless I fuck you too dumb."

"I w-want to," you admitted shyly, "to t-taste you."

"I know," she didn't spare you the embarrassment whatsoever as her thumb brushed over your chin, spreading the drool that was drying. "It's on your face."

The wink that followed made you tremble beneath her in a perfect display of desperation, just as she wanted. A devious smirk followed the pop of her thumb as she released it from her mouth; ironically your mouth ran dry. Wanda was about to ruin you in the best ways.

However, everything had happened so quickly up to now that she felt the urge to slowdown, in need of clarity, "Is this what you want? If I fill you with my cock that means you're mine now Y/N. Mine to fuck, cherish and if you'll let me, to fully fall in love with."

Unbridled lust still coursed through both of your veins, it was clear you wanted her to get moving by the way your hips twitched, but the soft tremble of your lip softened her into kissing you gently to ease the stress. Wanda saw the questions in your mind, and she'd answer them all, but for now she'd fuck them quiet.

Wanda had bought this strap just for you, actually. It was crimson red like her signature lipstick, thick like you'd never seen, and had a cum reservoir that she knew you'd love even if she'd never had the chance to ask you beforehand. The brunette could tell just by looking at you that you'd be a slut for a good filling.

"So," she prompted once she decided to spare your lungs from the fire burning inside. You nodded your head aggressively, words hard but doable when she pursed her lips; waiting. "Please, fuck me mommy."

"Gladly," she purred, rubbing the length of her strap against your slit to collect arousal as she peered into your eyes with a determined, possessive expression. Your hands reflexively curled and you felt emboldened the longer you held her gaze with an attempt to match the intensity of her, but you were once again nervous.

"C-can I touch?" Wanda nodded, offering you an encouraging smile as you timidly reached out to feel her up over her shirt, the tips of your fingers brushed over exposed skin and you appreciated how soft it was. Then you grew confident, fingers fisted at the collar of her shirt and tugged. "mommy, please take it off."

"I see even when impatient that my girl has manners," she chuckled softly at the sight of your beaming eyes, then she tossed her shirt across the room and leaned down to passionately press her lips to yours. Her body firmly pressed into yours, the brunette swallowed your mewl as her strap slipped into your hole just to parrot you as your once timid hands firmly groped her chest.

Once she got a grip of her thoughts she chuckled softly, sending a shiver through you as her lips had begun to trail down your jaw. "You like mommy's tits, hm?"

"I love them," you admitted with pure, genuine intent, hands continuing to knead at the flesh to distract yourself from the burning pain as she harshly worked to mark your skin in a slow, determined fashion. Then you continued softly, "I love everything about you," and she melted into the moment more, the teasing she had planned for you came to a stop as she filled you.

Wanda's hands slid beneath your arched back and pulled your front flush to hers, keeping your body as close to hers as she could while shallowly thrusting into your slippery cunt between your ragged breaths. Her lips gently brushed over the skin beneath your ear and she felt the way your body trembled, and reveled in the way you moaned so breathily when she sucked.

"You took me in so well," she purred, aware as your spine began to curve downward that the pleasure had simmered some, so she settled you back down and let her strap naturally slide from your cunt, leaving only the tip as she gazed into your needy eyes. Then her hips snapped and she grunted, "just like I thought."

No reply fell from your lips, at least not in the form of words as she'd set a ruthless pace that only left space for you to moan mindlessly as she harshly rutted her hips into yours. Waves of pleasure rolled through your body, ending with your eyes as a harsh thumb swirled against your clit, her other hand gripped your hip even harder as your bodies sinfully moved in tandem. The chemistry was palpable in the air that reeked of sex and stale smoke that seeped beneath the dorm door.

Which only made it that much harder to breathe as you gasped so pitifully for air, the sensation overwhelmed you into a place of pleasurable uncertainty. The strap was a completely new experience for you, every toy you'd ever used was sleek but this one was outlined in thick, hyperrealistic veins that dug into your walls.

"Oh," a particularly harsh thrust and you were back to arching your back, and crying out, "feels so good." Your sweaty front briefly brushed against hers before your back returned to the mattress where its sole role was to move against the sheets as Wanda rutted harshly.

"You close honey?" Wanda knew already, she could feel the resistance as your walls squeezed around the toy, and even attempted to push it back out. What she truly wanted was to see where you were at mentally. You nodded weakly, mind too foggy to reply and she felt elated by your state. "Mommy is too, cum with me."

The rapid addition of her calloused thumb against your unhooded clit threw you over the edge alongside the brunette who had the gruff hilt to thank for hers. To watch your eyes grow hazier as they crossed once you got lost in pleasure stimulated her own climax too. Just hearing you moan had her teetering on the edge; Wanda was certain she didn't even need the friction...

Wanda began to lay gentle kisses to your warm skin as her thrusts continued, this time so slow you could feel every ridge dragging and subsequently shivered. You whimpered, "no more," hands weak, albeit firm as they pressed into the brunette who chuckled softly, "come on detka, you can do it, just one more for mommy."

"One," you warily agreed, and the brunette beamed, she paused her hips just to sprinkle some kisses onto your face in thanks. Her heart warmed as you giggled and her lips shifted closer to yours, eyes locked now that she was hovering directly. You both felt as your walls trembled around her strap, she smirked as your eyes closed in an attempt to calm your mind down.

"Open," she commanded and you reluctantly did, lips naturally pouting as you were forced to look into her intense eyes full of a love you saw already existed well before you two gave into this steadily building tension. It was a bit disconcerting but in a self-deprecating way, not in a grab your belongings and flee the state kind.

It was surely curious, but truthfully it was too hard to process much of anything with how her hips shallowly moved, they picked up the pace ever so slightly but Wanda wanted this orgasm to be more intimate, she wanted to foster in you the connection she's found.

Her intense gaze never wavered, and you never closed your eyes—maintaining the connection even if it felt like you were going to combust under it. Wanda's lips were parted in a half smirk as she took note of every little change in your reaction to the slowed down pace.

Before, you were moaning unabashedly and now you were panting and whimpering. The fingers that just left crescent marks in her shoulders and drew angry lines down her back now gripped onto the sheets for dear life because this pleasure was simply unlike before. Something about the connection blooming right before your very eyes was exhilarating; it was comforting.

"Mommy," you whined and stared up intently, eyes brimming with tears as you felt overwhelmed by it all.

"Yes, love?"

"C-can I?" Wanda nodded, accompanied by a sweet smile that crinkled the skin of her nose and eyes, it was genuine, intimate, and the reason why you squirted.

Well, that and the surprise of being filled as Wanda had squeezed the cum pump without any warning.

Wanda felt the same need you just satisfied burning deep within her as your body contorted and a shriek of unnerving pleasure left your lips. Rutting into you didn’t provide the same pleasure it did beforehand now that your walls were slick but too tight to fight against.

In a craze she pulled out and tossed the strap away, her thighs corralled yours and tensed as two of her fingers worked her over fast. You gazed up just in time to see her face wash over with pleasure, there was a look of betrayal on your face that amused the brunette. Her fingers left her core and slipped passed your lips before you could protest that your job was stolen from you.

“I said you could taste, just not how,” she reminded you, and you didn’t even feel a need to protest. Far too busy sucking her fingers clean and feeling the spark of a forming addiction—you needed to taste the source.

However, you were too tired tonight and Wanda saw that as she gazed down into your glistening eyes. It was better that way too as Wanda’s cunt continued to drip.

"Twice," Wanda teased as your slick too dripped down her legs, “you are filthy; squirting on mommy’s bed.”

“‘M sorry,” you mumbled but she wasn’t sure you even knew what you were saying as your eyelids fluttered.

While you slipped in and out of sleep Wanda began to get a bath set up for you both, in one of the only en-suite’s this house has—perks of the house mom being your real mom’s best friend. Your soft snores amused her as they traveled through the crack in the door, into a steamy room decorated with rose petals and flames.

Truthfully, beneath the deceiving layers of grunge she wore with a resting scowl was a woman who genuinely believed in the sappy love stories that Hollywood sells. Wanda wasn’t a one trick pony, she heavily negated the societal need to keep interests separate. In public she kept her image intimidating, unintentionally she did it with you too, but now she’s ready for you to see all of her and with that you deserved her sappy humanity.

Wanda returned to the room once she deemed the tub was ready for you both, but she paused—allowing more steam to fill the space you’d soon occupy, just so she could admire your nude form beneath the moonlight. A smile bloomed as she caught sight of the marks she left behind, some too deep and noticeable for you to hide.

The woman felt prideful as she approached, but her resolve softened the closer she got as you looked so peaceful surrounded by her stained, mussed bedsheets. Currently, all she truly wanted was to hold you close.

You woke up with the gentle jolt of your body, made as Wanda lifted you up and into her chest, not forgoing a kiss to your temple that made you melt into her. A whine of protest followed seconds later as she placed you right onto the cooled toilet. In contrast, your body naturally reacted as it too sought relief, filling the toilet with the remnants of your passionate night together.

Wanda had slipped away again, but you were too tired to note her initial absence. When she returned, fresh pajamas in hand, you whined angrily. It was adorable, the way you reached for her and glared, as if she’d abandoned you, your intimidation tactic failed.

Wanda softly spoke, “Are you ready to bathe love?”

You shook your head and frowned, a bit embarrassed to ask for help but fortunately Wanda was in tune with you as she reached for the toilet paper and wiped. It was quick and she got you into the warm tub before you could overthink the moment. Successfully too as you melted into her front as the warmth soothed your aching muscles and fogged your mind up with peace.

There was no rush to her movements as she cleaned the both of you—if either of you had plans tomorrow it was fair to assume them canceled now. Wanda wasn’t ready to part ways and she knew you would likely be in the same state—if not more so after tonight’s drop.

Once the water began to chill, effectively making you shiver, she got you awake and out of the tub quickly. Wanda adored the way you clung to her, only parting when she persisted so she could get you two dressed.

“Brush your teeth,” she gently commanded, then with you distracted she returned to her room to place the freshly laundered sheets onto her mattress. Then she slid into a harness that made your eyes widen as you rushed out of the bathroom to find her. The muddled space you were in faded as you were unsure of her intentions, you even took a conscious step back once she began to approach but you quickly met the wall.

“Don’t be afraid,” she teased you—with the wide eyes and hesitant smile. “I was gonna ask, do you think it would be okay if mommy slept with her cock in you?”

Wanda’s arm was quick to wrap around your waist, holding you up as your knees proved useless, you felt her nose nudge into your jaw as her lips left warm kisses over the marks you’d yet to see on your neck. Even with as sensitive as you knew your pussy to be you gave in without any fight at all as you pleaded.

With a gentle hand Wanda slid the strap against your pussy until enough lubrication had manifested. Then she settled onto her mattress before guiding you over and slowly inserting herself back into you until there was no space left to fill. You pressed your lips to hers desperately, looking for a bit of comfort as you adjusted. A slow, passionate lip lock ensued until you felt the pain subside and the exhaustion return.

The Sokovian eased onto her back, gentle as she pulled your body down with hers to keep you comfortable. A blanket soon covered you both and you smiled as you tiredly remembered the night’s events—her intense eye contact that should’ve terrified you but it truly didn’t.

"I can't wait to fall in love with you," you admitted against her chest in your state of post-sex delirium and it brought a smile to the perceivably tough woman. It was too early, Wanda knew that, but the brunette had loved you for ages and now she is patiently waiting for you to return the sentiment. "ya uzhe lyublyu tebya."

(I already love you)

————

Bonus:

"Oh no," Natasha mumbled to her girlfriend, eyes catching sight of the random blonde that corralled you against the table. "Poor girl, she's not going to survive."

Maria humored her girlfriend by gazing up just in time to see a fuming Wanda storming over to you both.

"Which one?" Natasha chuckled and pecked her lovers lips, "both—but one will for sure be more pleasurable."

"You're a menace." Natasha smirked, "Oh, I know..."

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x maria hill #blackhill #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x fem!reader

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rivatar · 6 months

Text

His Stress Relief

MDNI!🔞 based off this request!

Pairing: Aged!Up!Neteyam x fem!human!reader

W/c: 1.9k

Warnings/content: SMUT, Dub-con, p in v, cream pie, dom Neteyam, sub reader, dirty talk, cussing

A/n: I hope the anon who requested this enjoys, I didn’t know how you wanted it to go so I hope it’s okay and you like it!😩 And I hope the rest of you lovelies can enjoy too. Keep sending me requests & I love you all 💖

“Don’t go too far out, y/n!” Max shouted as you were already out the door.

It had been a stressful day for you in the lab. You had arrived on Pandora not even a full month ago. Everything was new to you, including a lot of the science they had here. You had just gotten your PhD not long before leaving for this mission and it was all you dreamed of was to work here, but now that you’re here, you found that the work was quite challenging and you didn’t like feeling stupid or behind everyone else.

After getting yelled at by another coworker for doing something wrong again, you decided you needed a break to calm your mind. You told Max you were going to take a walk right outside the facility, it wasn’t really a question for him but more so telling him where you’d be. He was a bit concerned for you as you were still new here but he knew he couldn’t stop you, nor had the time to babysit you.

The door slammed behind you. You spotted a slightly beaten path that led into the forest and decided to walk along it so that you could find your way back later on. You weren’t planning to go far of course but your racing thoughts occupied you so much it had you completely distracted.

Unbeknownst to you, a particular Na’vi had already spotted you and was following you quietly while staying tucked behind the various trees and plants of the forest.

Neteyam was out clearing his mind as well, he was also stressed like you, but his stress was due to his endless duties preparing to be Olo’eyktan soon. He noticed you and instantly became intrigued with you and decided to follow you and see what you were up to. It was something to take his mind off of his responsibilities for once.

You noticed a particularly amazing plant and crouched down to it, smiling gently. Next thing you knew a huge arm wrapped around your front and brought you back into them, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs in the process.

“What the fuck?!” You yelled in terror. You looked down and realized the arm was blue and your soul almost left your body.

“Hi, tawtute,” the creature bent down to speak in your ear.

“Please let me go!! I’m sorry for being out here! Please I’ll go back!” You pleaded and played nice while struggling against his steady hold.

“Nah. I think I’d rather keep you,” he spoke lowly and unbothered.

Fear rushed through your body like a flaming hot fire and consumed all your senses. You wanted to cry at your predicament but you had to keep your wits about you if you were gonna make it out alive.

“P-please! I’ll do anything just please let me go, I won’t tell a soul!” You pleaded some more.

He chuckled and was amused with you. “Anything?”

Confusion etched across your face. “What?”

“You said you’d do anything”

He sounded… suggestive. Or were you just going insane??

“…yeah?”

“I think I’ve got something in mind for your payment. And a way to relieve my stress”

To say your heart was beating out of your chest was an understatement.

“What do you want from me?” You cried.

“You’re not stupid, girl. You know what I want” he spoke sensually as he ran his other hand down the front of your body to cup your pussy. You gasped at the sudden sensation.

He pressed his hard bulge against your butt. “You understand now?”

You weakly nodded, fear still evident in your eyes but you were not wanting to upset him in any way by disagreeing.

Without anymore time to process this, he yanked your pants down and pushed your back forward, making you abruptly fall to your knees with your ass in the air.

You were flushed and felt exposed and vulnerable but before you could think about those feelings anymore, he suddenly ran his tongue up through your slit. You gasped at the pleasure.

“Mmm I love how your little human pussy tastes,” he groaned “much sweeter than the omatikaya girls”

He continued lapping up your juices like a starved man and you had no choice but to take it. It felt extremely good though, your hole clenched, wanting and needing attention too.

“Fucking slut. You act like you don’t want this too but your body says otherwise,” he said while prodding his thumb around your entrance. You tried to push yourself back to get the penetration you craved.

He laughed at your pathetic action. “Awww the little human needs some action? You should be thanking me” he spanked your ass hard.

You whimpered out loud and knew you were indeed being pathetic. But dammit, you were stressed and pent up too.

“Pleaseeee” you begged him shamelessly.

“Oh yeah?” He chuckled mockingly.

You backed up more, wordlessly begging him to stop torturing you. So he granted your request and plunged an entire finger in, already brushing your cervix with his long digits.

“Mmm!! More!” You moaned for him.

He groaned at the feeling of your tight, gummy walls sucking him in perfectly.

“So warm and tight… fuck” he purred.

He then plunged another digit in, marveling at how you stretched for him. He roughly sped up, deciding he wanted to watch your pussy cum on his hand.

“Cum for me” he urged you while his other hand groped your ass.

You were whimpering and moaning on the ground, feeling the pleasure wash through your body as your incoming orgasm threatened to burst.

“Can feel you squeezing. Let it go, tawtute”

And just like that, as if his sultry tone and words were all you needed to reach your peak, you came all over his working fingers with your eyes rolling back in your head. It had to be the best orgasm you’ve ever had.

“Mmm, good job sevin” he praised your shaking form, still recovering from the after shocks.

He rolled your limp body over to where you could finally see his face. He was so handsome. Your fucked out face scanned over his toned, muscular body. Every curve and edge of him was perfectly carved by Eywa herself. His body was amazing but you couldn’t believe how stunning his face was. His bright yellow eyes held so much emotion and passion in them and you held his gaze, unable to look away.

He took this opportunity to untie his loincloth rather slowly. The skimpy item of clothing fell down to the ground and just when you thought he couldn’t get anymore visually stunning, he did. His cock was huge to you but fit his body proportions perfectly. It stood up loud and proud, the tip glistening with his shimmery precum.

“I take it you like it, huh?” He asked teasingly but also meant it.

You snapped your eyes back up to him and nodded slowly. Your brain was telling you to be scared but the rest of your body was screaming at you to indulge and enjoy.

He bent back down to your recovering body. His hands reached the bottom of your shirt and tugged up on it. To your own surprise, you submitted and lifted your arms to let him take off your shirt. You did the rest by then unclipping your bra.

He leaned back on his heels and his chest quickly rose and fell at the sight of you being completely naked. His face didn’t change though, he seemed to be trained to show no emotion, though his breath quickening and precum gathering at his tip gave away his arousal to you.

He got closer to you and leaned in for a brutal kiss. His large mouth completely engulfed yours and you tried to keep up with him.

He pulled back to look into your eyes and said, “I’m gonna fuck you. I’m gonna fuck you so good you’re gonna be coming back and begging for more after this”

He left you no time to object this and continued the kiss. Although at this point you were sure you wouldn’t argue with him. Your body was aching for attention and relief.

He effortlessly picked you up and set your back against the grass. “Spread open for me,” he tapped your thigh.

You did as you were told and gave him complete access. He couldn’t wait to feel your tight, wet pussy around him.

He held his dick and coated it in your juices, before angling to start pushing in.

“You are soaked, little human” he said admiringly.

You were also amazed at how aroused you were, you had to admit it had been a while but also none of your previous experiences have been this erotic. Nonetheless you blushed at him stating the obvious about your neediness.

He sunk deeper and deeper, you were both making little noises of discomfort and pleasure at the tight stretch.

“Never had a Na’vi cock huh? You’re in for a treat” he smiled a bit menacingly.

You chuckled nervously, still focusing on breathing and getting through the extreme stretch.

He bottomed out and you moaned as he brushed your cervix. “Is that the spot?”

“Mhmm” you whined.

“I know, I know. Hold on tight, my little tawtute slut”

He removed himself all the way out and slammed back in, his huge balls slapping your skin.

“Fuck” he grunted.

He continued his assault on your cunt, ruthlessly pounding into you like a feral animal, giving you no time to adjust fully.

His mouth was open and relaxed in an ‘o’ as he watched your pretty face screw up in pleasure, both of you taking in the feeling.

You held onto his bulky arms that were settled on either side of you as he hovered over you.

You eyes started welling up with tears from the overwhelming sensation. You were being stuffed to your fullest capacity.

He then bent down to latch his mouth onto one of your nipples, while his other hand pulled your other one. You screamed and arched your back off the ground.

“I can’t! It’s too much!!” You squealed and he only let up so he could speak to you.

“Thought you were begging for more earlier? You’ve gotta take it now, cmon just take it like the good slut I know you are”

He then started rubbing your clit, edging you on more. “You gonna cum again? Well I’m gonna cum deep in your pussy, I got a lot and it’ll be leaking out of you for days”

He sped up his thrusts. “Maybe when it leaks out of you, it can remind you of me and you can use it to touch yourself”

His lewd words made your coil snap yet again, and your pussy convulsed around his length.

“Good lil cockslut. Take my cum now” he grunted as his thrusts got irregular and his body locked up. His cum shot deep into you and you felt it get crowded in there with his dick still inside too.

He was panting and sweating above you, his eyes half lidded and looking delirious and spent.

You both suddenly heard a distant cry, like a Na’vi calling out as communication.

His ears went up and he pulled out quickly, both of you hissing at the loss. He scrambled to tie his loincloth back on. He leaned down to your face after you sat up.

“Next time you need some na’vi cock again, come to this spot and I will answer your calling” he winked and ran off with his bow in hand, leaving you naked and vulnerable. But… also satisfied.

Taglist: @bambithewriter @neteyamssyulang @professional-yapper @teyamshuman @nonamevenus

#avatar smut #atwow #avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #avatar #neteyam #james cameron avatar #neteyam smut #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x reader #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x f!reader #neteyam x you

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vivwritesfics · 3 months

Note

And now on to my first request 🙈

The dream I had was very vague and context was nonexistent so this is me trying to piece it together and make it make sense for a fic

Arranged marriage with Danny ricc�� I guess mafia would work best with this? But either way is fine. not too long after the marriage so they’re still pretty awkward and shy with each other. Perhaps they’ve got slight googly eyes for each other but not obvious and he’s a sweetheart not trying to force anything.

Randomly one day she realizes she almost out of pads and it’s the heaviest day of her period😳 if it’s mafia I guess she could have asked one of the workers to buy some but she felt awkward so asked him to pick up some on the way home and he’s super nice and gets a whole goody basket filled with a bunch of stuff😩 and then cuz her cramps are so bad they cuddle for the first time🙉🙉 maybe him rubbing her belly and back are too fast but idk I’m just in need of some hardcore fluff rn😭😭 (the way I got off my period a few days ago and yet still can’t get this out of my head) (I had another idea as a continuation of this but forgot 😭😭) (sorry if this makes no sense 💀)

-🤠

cowboy, my love, i'm so sorry this took me so damn long. I was gonna save it for a potential series but I can't commit to another series rn lmao

Warnings: Period

Daniel Ricciardo didn't love his wife. That was upsetting, wasn't it? He had a wife and he didn't love her.

It wasn't that he married a girl he once loved and then fell out of love with her. No, he was never in love with her. He didn't even have a chance to fall in love before he was placing that ring on her finger.

Things were awkward between the two of them. That was bound to happen, though. As much as they wanted to, it was so damn difficult. Daniel was a busy man, being Max Verstappen's lackey.

So, they tried to make life work. There were a few short conversations before he was rushing off to do whatever work Max needed him to do.

There was one night where he walked into the house they shared. Daniel expected her to be asleep in the room she had to herself. She didn't know that Daniel often checked on her when he came back late from work, taking comfort in the fact that she was still there, was still okay.

This time, though, she was asleep on the sofa. The television had turned off after a couple of hours of inactivity and she was holding a cushion close to her chest.

Daniel put his things down. He shrugged off his jacket and carefully walked closer to her. He brushed some hair away from her forehead and scooped her into his arms.

She stayed asleep, face pressed against his chest as Daniel carried her to bed. He laid her down and pulled the blankets up to her chin before he backed out of the room. Sparing one last glance at her, he left her there.

They never addressed this little moment. If she was even aware of it, Daniel wasn't sure.

But then her period came around. It wasn't her first period since they'd been married. But this time, she had nothing. No pads, no tampons, no painkillers. (No sweet treats to ease her hormonal woes.)

There were staff in the house that she could have asked, but they hadn't spoken two words to her since the wedding. Well, that wasn't true. Mrs Mulch had marched into her room on several occasions to shout at her while giving her dinner.

That left one person she could call. Holding her cramping abdomen, she held her phone up to her ear as it rang.

"Hey," said Daniel when he picked up. "Are you okay?" She hadn't called him before; he'd started to wonder if he'd even given her his number. This was actually quite a relief.

"Daniel," she whispered, voice pained.

Panic flooded him. "What's wrong, honey?" He asked quickly, voice hushed just in case she was in danger.

She let out another cry, and it was like being stabbed in the heart. "I... my period," she sobbed.

He released a breath. She wasn't in danger; she was just on her period. Fuck, that was such a damn relief.

"Talk to me, honey."

Honey, when had he started calling her that? And why did it make her insides feel all gooey? "Danny, I-I used all of my pads last month and I've got nothing in the house and I've got no painkillers and I'm really craving chocolate."

She said it all so quickly that Daniel had a hard time keeping up. But he had it, and he was going to do what he could for his wife.

Apologising to Max, he left work and jumped into his car. Daniel sped through traffic with little regard for the law (something he didn't have to worry about when they were in Max's pocket). Daniel parked himself outside of the store, climbed out of the car and grabbed a basket as he headed inside.

Daniel bought enough pads to stock her up for a year (he thought, at least) and snacks. Chocolate and junk food, anything she could want while she was on her period.

But he forgot the damned painkillers.

Paying and rushing back to the car, Daniel made his way back to the house.

He walked towards her, laying on the leather couch as she put pressure on her abdomen. But it was doing so little to ease the pain. "Oh, honey," Daniel whispered as he walked over to her and dropped to his knees in front of her. He brushed her hair away from her sweaty forehead and brushed away the tears staining her cheeks.

He took her hand and helped her up. "Come on," He said gently, picking up the shopping bag and pulling her towards the bathroom.

Handing her the pads, Daniel left her in the bathroom. He put the snacks away in their respective cupboards and emptied a packet of chocolates into a bowl.

"Daniel," she began as she walked towards him. She seemed a lot more comfortable now that she wasn't... free flowing. "Did you get the painkillers?"

His face dropped. "Shit, honey, I'm so sorry," he said. "I completely forgot."

He went to move through the house, to get his keys and drive out to get some for her. But, before he could, she grabbed his arm. "Please stay," she squeaked.

Daniel gave a nod. He opened his arms and she fell against him. This was the closest they'd ever been, and Daniel loved it. He kissed the top of her head and walked her towards the couch.

He sat down and she sat with him. Taking one of his hands, she placed it on her abdomen and let out a sigh. They were big and warm and the way he moved his thumb over her skin was so damn soothing. "Thank you, Danny," she whispered and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He ran his free hand through her hair. "No problem, honey."

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x you #dr3 #dr3 imagine #dr3 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #mafia!f1 #mafia!au

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kaliforniahigh · 2 months

Note

Best friend!noah being excited to come see you after being on tour but coming home to you seeing someone else. Except before tour he could’ve sworn you guys have a moment so instead of being bitter he just tries to get rid of the guy… I love jealous Noah what can I say😩😩

Thank you so much for the request!!! I hope it's what you wanted <3 sorry for the wait!

Warning: pining, idiots in love, angst with a happy ending, misunderstandings, jealous!reader and jealous!Noah, innacurate descriptions of family members.

WC: almost 3.7k

Requests are closed for now.

The patio door muffled the music coming from the inside, as you sat on a chair, drinking your beer. It was a happy night for everyone, the boys were going on tour and everyone celebrated as if it was the first time.

You obviously loved this for them, especially for Noah, your best friend who you met when he first came to Los Angeles all those years ago. But you couldn't help but feel a sting of sadness in your chest.

They took a long break and you got too used to having him around all the time. You went to the grocery store together, you went to the movies together, you ate together, and even if you told him you were picking up some pain medication at the drugstore, he voluntereed to drive you. You got used to the domesticity of it all.

But the news that they were preparing to go back on tour soon busted your bubble of happiness. Noah was excited, he missed being on stage and as much as he hated travelling, he loved what he did more. So you didn't have the heart to tell him how crushed you were.

They were leaving for the airport tomorrow and even though they should be resting for the long flight, they couldn't resist a last hoorah.

You were making your way back inside soon, as to not alarm anyone of your absence, but it was too late as you heard the sliding doors behind you open and close.

You smelled him before you saw him. His cologne always unmistakable to your senses.

"Hey, what are you doing here all by yourself?", he questioned, moving the chair that was beside you and sitting across from you instead.

"Just taking a breather. The smell of beer and weed a little overwhelming", you tried to smile to make your lie more believable. But you could tell he saw right through you.

"Imma take breather with you then", he sat back on the chair, taking a swig of his own beer.

After a couple of minutes, he couldn't take the silence anymore, and the thought of something bothering you and you choosing not to talk to him. You always talked to him.

"What's on your pretty little mind?", he finally voiced his concerns, resting his elbows on his knees and looking at you.

"Oh, it's nothing. It'll pass soon", you waived it off, hoping he would drop the subject.

"Share with me and it'll pass sooner". You cursed at the fact that he always knew what to say to you, talking to him always did help after all. You took a deep breath.

"It's just that...", you trailed off. You haven't cried about this yet, but now, with him in front of you for the last time, knowing it'll be months before you see him again, made tears well in your eyes. "I'm missing you already", you looked down at your lap, but he noticed the tear falling from your eyes and into your jeans.

"Hey", he scooted closer to you, grabbing your head in his hands, lifting your face to make you look at him. "I'll miss you terribly as well, but I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone", he tried to soothe you.

"I know I'm being dramatic. I guess I just got used to you being around all the time", he nodded in understanding.

"And I enjoyed letting you have me all to yourself. Can't even tell you how much I'm gonna miss our late night drives to McDonald's. And watching movies until 3am and passing out on the couch", you gave him a close lipped smile, it wasn't a full smile, but it was better than the tears.

"You promise you'll call? Even if the timezones are horrible and you'll wake me up in the middle of the night?", you already knew he would, but you needed to hear him say it.

"I promise. You're even gonna get sick of me from how much we're gonna talk", the thought was ridiculous.

"That's impossible, I'll never get sick of you", his thumbs were now softly caressing your cheeks, you looked into his eyes and saw something in them you've never seen - or noticed - before. You thought it was love, adoration and a little bit of longing. Yours were probably telling the same story.

He leaned in a little closer, his right thumb slipping from your cheek to rest on your lips, as you gave it a light kiss, making his head spin. Just as he was about to crash his lips on yours and claim the lips of the woman he always desired to make his, the door opened again and a drunk Folio made his way outside, making you part, startled.

"Nowwaahhh", he slurred. "They want you to make a speech or something, I don't know man, they want you to say something", he pointed inside.

He was completely unaware of the moment he just interrupted. Noah looked back at you but your face was understanding. You told him he could go, that you would be inside in a second. He hesitated before getting up from his chair, pulling him and Folio inside.

You both didn't have the chance to revisit this moment that night, and as you embraced and said goodbye the next morning, Noah promised himself he was making you his the moment he got back.

It took you a while to adjust, but Noah made good on his promise, and you didn't mind one bit whenever he called you in the middle of the night. It just meant you were going to fall asleep again to the sound of his voice.

He sent you funny pictures, and videos from soundcheck, and gave you hotel room tours when you facetimed. Not to mention when he sent you pictures of his breakfast, lunch and dinner. The ache in your heart subsided a little, but nothing could've prepared you from what came next.

You weren't a chronically online person at all, but it was the weekend and you were lounging on your couch, scrolling through social media, as there was really nothing better to do. You follow some Bad Omens fan pages because you loved looking at the pictures and videos they posted from the shows. You also loved laughing at the ridiculous speculations that were thrown around from time to time. You even showed them to Noah, falling into a fit of giggles every time.

When you saw the picture, it was blurry because it was taken from far away, but you could never miss his silhouette. But what caught your attention was the figure beside him. You noticed the blonde hair going down to her back, and she was wearing a black dress and some heels. You read the caption:

Apparently Noah was seen leaving the show tonight with a girl?????

You considered being a part of the crew, but scratched that quickly. This was no work attire. And you knew comfortable clothes were a must when working on the road, especially with concerts. You scrolled thought the comments.

I heard someone said they were holding hands.

our boy is getting some tonightttt.

wow she's a lucky girl for sure.

You locked your phone, throwing it on the cushion beside you, taking a moment to register what you were feeling. You were jealous, that was obvious, but you felt a hint of betrayal and a little like you were led on.

You knew you had no right to feel like this. You thought back to the moment you both shared back at the party. He didn't kiss you, but you were sure he was going to. But again, you were being naive in thinking he was going away for months and not get any girls.

You wondered if he would call you tonight. If he would have the time. If he took that girl back to his hotel room, he would probably be busy. You tried to scratch that vision from your mind. Getting up from the couch and abandoning your phone there, you decided that some dinner would make you feel better.

Turns out he did call you that night. It was close to 1am and you were wide awake, not yet able to get the nagging thoughts out of your mind. You saw the phone ring and let it go to voicemail. He called again and you didn't pick up, again.

Instead, he sent you a text message.

Hi, beautiful. You're probably sleeping already, so I'll let you rest. I miss you and I'll talk to you tomorrow. Sleep tight ❤️

You wanted to cry. You felt guilty about not picking up the phone. Especially since you haven't missed a call since he went on tour weeks ago. But you needed some time to sort out your emotions. And hearing the sound of his voice would surely break you.

You logged out of all social media after this, not wanting to see anything anymore. You had to go back to thinking of Noah as just a friend or you would go crazy if you did otherwise.

You still talked to him everyday, trying your best to act your normal self. If he noticed something different, he didn't say anything. He never mentioned the girl either, but you bet he knew the pictures made their way to social media.

In the middle of your heartbreak, you did something you've never done before: you accepted to go on a date with someone from work. Jack was one of those people that everyone gushed about. He was handsome and kind, and everyone talked about how whoever ended up with him would be a lucky person.

You participated in the small talk at work and agreed with what they said, but you never imagined Jack as more than a co-worker. So one day, when he invited you to grab dinner with him, you could've told him you were busy or that you though it wasn't a good idea to go out with someone from work in a romantic setting. But you found yourself saying yes.

The dinner went great, the place he picked was beautiful, but you failed to feel the sparks and connection. You made excuses in your head, saying that the first date was supposed to be like that. You didn't know him on a personal level anyway.

So you kept going out with him. You felt terrible, because as good as this man was, it was impossible for you to feel and develop something else other than a friendship with him. You also kept comparing him to Noah and that wasn't fair.

You decided to tell him all of this over lunch one day. You kept apologising and telling him that if he never wanted to look at you again, you wouldn't blame him. But he assured you that you were ok, and told you that asking you out was a long shot anyway, that he was happy just being your friend. You felt like a weight was lifted from your shoulders. But you also thought that you couldn't stay hung up on Noah for the rest of your life. If he was able to go out with other people, you had to try to do the same.

A few days later, Noah told you on the phone that they were coming back this weekend - you knew, because you kept tabs on their schedule - and that they were throwing a welcome home party.

You asked him if you could bring someone and he could feel his heart drop to his stomach. He said yes, but his voice waivered and he stuttered a bit over his words, you question catching him off-guard. After this interaction, he kept blaming himself.

Obviously you would have someone. Other people would be idiots not to notice how great and amazing you were. He realized he was too late and it killed him inside.

The last couple of days on tour, he kept replaying the moment you both shared on the patio that night. He should've kissed you, should've told you how down bad in love he is with you. How he has been for years. But he missed his chance, and now he had to live with the fact that there was someone else making you happy.

The night of the party, you were buzzing with excitment. They had landed that morning, but were busy unpacking everything. So you and Noah agreed to see each other later at the party.

Your nerves were eating you alive. Your hair and makeup were ready and you had your outfit on, Jack arrived about fifteen minutes ago, but you invited him in, nedding to down a shot to take the edge off.

You had told him about Noah the night you invited him to the party and Jack actually showed himself to be a great friend.

"What if he brings that girl to the party?", you mused, your leg not able to stand still.

"From what you've told me, you guys tell each other everything. So if he has someone, he would've let you know", you knew this was true, but your brain was sabotaging you right now. "You'll never know if we never go"

You sighed out loud, grabbing you purse and leading you and Jack out the door.

The moment you arrived, the place as already buzzing. You recognized almost everyone as you greeted them and introduced them to Jack, but your eyes surveyed the room, looking for someone in particular.

Since he wasn't all that hard to miss, you spotted him just a few minutes later. Taking Jack's hand in yours, you led him to the other side of the living room. As if he could sense your presence, Noah turned around and his eyes landed on you, lips widening into a smile. But you could see it faded a little bit when he looked at who was beside you.

You dashed towards him, letting Jack's hand go and engulfed him in an embrace. You stood on your tiptoes so you could nuzzle your face in his neck and Noah's hands went to curl around your back. You breathed a sigh of relief.

"I missed you so much, you have no idea", you murmured in his ear.

"I missed you too, sweet girl", He wanted to enjoy the moment, but he couldn't help but steal a look Jack's way as his hand moved dangerously low on your back. He noticed the dude was smiling. What kind of boyfriend - or hook-up - would smile watching their significant other interact with another person like this?

He didn't know, but he decided to lay it on thick tonight. Maybe he would get the message to whom you actually belonged to.

He was being unreasonable, but he couldn't help it.

Disentangling from him, you turned around to look behind you. "Noah, this is Jack, Jack this is Noah", you introduced them. Jack extended a hand, but Noah didn't take it, opting to greet him with a nod instead.

"I've heard a lot about you, man", Jack said and Noah felt a swell of pride at the fact the she mentioned him to the people she went out with.

"Funny, 'cause I haven't heard about you at all", Noah couldn't help the jab the came out of his mouth, but Jack seemed unfazed.

"We're coworkers, but started to hang out just recently", Jack cleared up. Noah made a sound of acknowledgment, but didn't try to carry on the conversation, turning towards you instead. One of his arms was still wrapped around your waist, holding you close to his side.

"The boys wanted to see you, they're out back playing beer pong", Noah told you. You looked back at Jack.

"Go, I'll be fine here. I think I'll grab something to drink", he reassured you. You knew Jack had no problem mingling with other people, but you stil felt bad abandoning him here by himself. You trusted his words, though, and followed Noah outside.

When you stepped out on the patio, you noticed there was no beer pong and no other band members who missed you.

"Where is everyone?", you asked him.

"They're in there somewhere. I'm sorry, I just wanted a minute alone with you", Noah confessed, but you weren't mad, you also missed your one on one conversations.

You sat down on the same chair, on the same positions you were at during the last party that happened here. The coincidence wasn't lost on you.

"Is Jack your boyfriend?", Noah started, wanting to ask the question that was eating him alive for the last couple of days.

"No, he isn't. He's just my co-worker", you explained.

"But like, are you hooking up with him?", he pressed for more.

"We went out on a few dates, but I realized it wasn't gonna work, so now, we're just hanging out as friends"

"When was that? Were you not gonna tell me?", his questions were starting to annoy you. Yes, you were best friends, but he was thousands of miles away, hooking up with other girls and not telling you about it either.

"I don't have to tell you everything", your defensive mode kicked in.

"Yeah, but it would've been nice to know"

"It's not like you were telling me about your hook ups either", if he wanted to go there, you would go there. You would love to hear this excuse.

"What hook ups?", he looked incredibly confused at your statement. There was not a day on tour that Noah didn't think about you. He had no desire to hook up with other people.

"The blonde girl you probably took back to your hotel room?", you hated how jealous and desperate you were sounding right now. But this was eating at you and you needed answears.

"What blonde girl?"

"If you're not gonna be truthful, I don't see the point of this conversation", you got up from your chair, but before you could open the door to go back inside, he took a hold of your arm, making you turn around.

"I'm not doing this on purpose. I genuinely don't know what you're talking about", he was firm in his words and you took a moment to really look at him in the eyes, finding no lies there. So you sat back down.

"You left the show in Texas with a blonde girl. There were pictures all over the internet, people said you were pretty cozy together", you explained, grabbing your phone and scrolling until you found the picture and showed it to him.

"Oh, this blonde girl?", he took a good look at the picture and you hummed in confirmation.

"She is Alana's sister. She lives in the area and attended the show that night", he explained, not really making the situation any better.

"Ok? That doesn't change the fact that you left with her", Noah wanted to smile, because you were jealous of him, so that meant you cared, right?

"I did leave with her", he confirmed, but you sensed a bit of teasing in his voice. Was he really making fun of you in this situation?

"I left with her because her boyfriend was parked one block away and I didn't want her walking alone. So I walked with her", he said in the calmest voice and a little smirk on his face.

"And why were you holding her hand?"

"I don't know where you heard that, but it isn't true"

As soon as the words left his lips, you didn't know if you felt relief or embarrassment. You shouldn't have trusted what you saw on the internet, and you should've asked him about it sooner. But you didn't want to make a fool of yourself, in case he didn't feel the same about you. Guess that didn't work very well.

"I'm sorry about this. You have the right to hook up with whoever you want. I don't know why I'm feeling this way", you knew, but you didn't know how to say it out loud.

"Are you really not going out with Jack?", he asked once again.

"I'm really not. There was nothing there, no spark, no butterflies, nothing"

"Great, so he isn't gonna be mad when I do this"

You found yourself in the same position as months ago, your face enveloped in his hands, but he didn't wait this time, as he placed his lips on yours.

They were so very soft as they molded and slotted into yours, moving in a slow pace, wanting to savour the moment he's been waiting for for months.

You felt on cloud nine, but you wanted him closer. You've been so far apart, that now you wanted him as close as you could get.

So, without parting your lips, you got up from the chair and situated yourself on his lap, your legs on either side of him. One of his hands moved from your face and to your waist and up your back, spreading warmth through you.

With a little bit of hesitancy, you let go of each other's lips, but stayed with your mouths close.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this. I've been driving myself crazy on tour, thinking about how I should've kissed you that night", his voice was low, only for you to hear it.

"You're here now, you can kiss me as much as you want", you smiled wide, happiness taking over your body.

"I will, since you're mine now, get used to being kissed every minute of the day", his smile matched yours, just with a little more mischief in it.

"Oh, I'm yours now?", he gave you a peck on the lips, humming into the kiss. "I think I've been yours for a while", you observed casually, and it was the truth. You belonged to each other, even though it took you a while to realize it.

He gripped your waist tighter, bringing you closer together.

"That's fucking right", and you resumed kissing each other.

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pinkgy · 4 months

Note

idk why but I fell in love with Michael- Im always into mammon in both whb and obey me but I kinda want to see an nsfw with michael where you/mc edge him enough that he starts begging while his tied like in his christmas L grade😩

Hi Anon ! thank you so much for your request !

And sorry for the delay, I was waiting a bit until we got some more information about him, and now we do ! So here it is.

I’m also whipped for both mammons, but obey me mammon is always going to be the first :(((

𝗠𝗜𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗘𝗟

𝗪𝗛𝗕

"𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗬𝗘𝗧"

𝗖𝗪: Edging (m receiving), praising, passive aggressive praising, a tiny bit of degradation, humiliation, begging, handjobs, riding, oral (m receiving)

“Pretty thing, who would’ve thought you could be so loud even with your mouth full”

“Fwk iu (fuck you)”

Michael, even with his mouth full with a ball gag has only muttered insulting words toward you for the past 2 hours, if words could kill you would’ve been long dead 1 hour and 59 minutes ago.

You understood him anyway, because Michael had spent those last two hours having his rock hard dick being relentlessly rubbed my you without having any relief.

“Should we take this off ?” You tease the leather straps that were holding the ball gag “I kind of miss that pretty voice of yours”

Michael trembled at your voice which made you laugh, for the Dust of Decapitation, The most frightening Angel, Heaven’s Law, he looked pathetic, his chin, neck, and part of his chest were covered in his spit, and even some was spilling in his rock hard dick, the right side of his face was drenched in tears coming from his golden eye and his body was completely immobilized.

You leave a small kisses all over his wet cheeks as you straddle his lap, and in a swift movement you unclasp the gag, once he’s free from the restraint you feel his heavy breathing in your neck “I’m fucking killing you after this, insolent human”

You feel Michael’s body tremble, he desperately tried to hide his whimpers in your neck, he was about to cum tried his best to hide it from you so he could finally have a release, you moved your hand even faster up and down his shaft, and unconsciously he began to whisper small pleads near your ear.

“Please please please please please” he repeatedly begged you to let him finally come, you felt a wet patch forming in your shoulder from his tears and spit, and your hand in his dick was wet from his precum

Just when Michael thought he was finally going to have a release, you placed your left palm in his dick head and your other hand squeezed the base of his shaft, completely ruining his orgasm.

“Fuck you !” Michael yelled at you while sobbing “I fucking hate you !”

“You don’t deserve to cum, maybe next time you should beg more” you sternly tell him while still gripping his hard on “also” you get close to his ear “I don’t want you cumming anywhere but inside me”

#whb #prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#what in “hell” is bad?#whb Michael #whb Michael x reader #whb smut #Whb x reader

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worksby-d · 1 year

Text

Can't Wait That Long

Pairing: senator!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Request: “I love your senator Steve drabbles.😍 Could you do one where Steve realizes he wants kids so he wants to start breeding you, like IMMEDIATELY.”

Warnings: AU, kind of public sex, unprotected sex, 18+

Word count: ~1,000

a/n: I didn't realize how much I missed Steve until that lil prompt request the other week 😩 So I dug through the absolute depths of my inbox and found this request from almost two years ago 💀🙏

══☆══

Steve can’t stop his gaze from constantly drifting toward you as you play with some of his team’s kids on the other side of the glass panel dividing the meeting room. You quickly—too quickly—volunteered yourself to keep them entertained, much more interested in sitting on the floor with a group of kids than listening to any more campaign talk from your husband.

As the afternoon winds down, he’s able to slip away while everyone is finishing up and sticking around to eat lunch.

He walks into you helping the kids build a block tower and knows he better not startle anyone, standing in the doorway until you notice him out of the corner of your eye. He waves, a gesture definitely meant for you, but the kids have spotted him now and wave back, shouting at him to look at their tower.

“That’s taller than you guys!” He marvels and they laugh at him. “Can I steal Y/N for a little while?”

He asks kindly, but they don’t want you to go, moving closer to you to trap you in place.

“I promise you can have her back later.”

He holds his hand out for you to help you off the floor and you repeat his promise, telling them the block tower isn’t done so you can’t possibly leave for good yet. They believe you more than him, so they reluctantly let you get up.

He barely gives you the chance to fix your skirt once you’re standing up before he’s making a beeline with you for the farthest away office in the building.

Locking the door behind you, he’s on you instantly, pushing you against the wall gently, but hard enough to elicit an oof out of you.

His kiss is passionate and deep, and it takes your breath away.

When his lips move to your jaw and to your neck, you’re able to catch your breath and let out a laugh. “What’s gotten into you?”

You’re no stranger to sneaking off with him, but admittedly, it has been awhile.

He lets up for just a moment, pressing a much softer kiss to your lips as he composes himself the best he can.

“I can’t stop watching you out there with those kids. I don’t want to wait any longer…”

You narrow your eyes on his, pretty sure you know what he’s getting at. “You mean…”

“I wanna have a baby with you,” he blurts out. “I know we discussed waiting until the election is over in the fall, but I can’t– I can’t wait that long.”

He waits until he sees your smile to let himself break into one. You hold his face in your hands, pulling him back in for a kiss. Your quiet moan into his mouth as it becomes more heated has him snapping back into control.

“Turn around,” he instructs, stern voice sending a shiver down your back.

His hold on your waist loosens so you can obey, turning to face the wall, placing your hands in front of you as you arch your back. You know the drill.

“Good girl,” he coos, leaning closer again to kiss your neck. “Can you be quiet for me?”

“Yes,” you nod, gasping softly, feeling his hard cock against your ass.

His hands are on your hips keeping you in place, but he slips one around to your stomach. “You’re gonna look so pretty pregnant.”

You moan as his hand drops lower, pulling your skirt up around your waist so his fingers can slip under the waistband of your panties.

“Steve,” you whimper. He brushes a finger along your slit, applying pressure to your clit. “Stevie–”

“You told me you could be quiet,” he chides teasingly.

“Sorry.” Your quiet laugh turns into biting your lip to keep your moan silent as he moves his hand to pull your panties aside and you hear him unzip his pants.

He’s become an expert at quickies, thrusting his cock into you before you have a chance to become a desperate, begging mess, knowing that would risk you getting caught for sure. He saves the teasing for when you’re at home.

“Fuck,” you curse, letting your eyes flutter shut. “Feels so good.”

“I know, baby.” His steady pace becomes quicker, knowing the whines you’re letting out mean you want more.

You drop a hand from the wall to hold onto his on your waist, linking your fingers together.

“Wanna make you a daddy, Stevie,” you whisper.

He can barely hold himself back, letting out a groan as he leans into you, fucking you deeper and whispering against your neck.

“Need you to cum for me, sweetheart.” He has you right on the edge. “Come on.”

He knows you well enough to know he has to bring a hand up to cover your mouth, just in time to stifle your moan as you cum. Your knees go weak and you’re thankful for his hands on you keeping you up.

“That’s my girl,” he grunts. He’s no better than you, having to hide his face against your neck to muffle his own moans as he works you through your high, coming undone at the same time.

His hold on you becomes softer as you both work to catch your breath. You instantly miss him when he carefully pulls out and steps away to grab a box of tissues for you.

You’d make fun of him for how unromantic the gesture is if you weren’t still numb with pleasure.

Once you’re both cleaned up, he pulls you back into his arms and you happily rest against him, head on his chest.

“I was serious,” he says quietly, rubbing your back. “That wasn’t just a spur of the moment thing. I don’t wanna wait if you don’t.”

“I don’t either.” A sense of relief washes over him hearing you say it. “But I do kinda want to wait at least until we’re home next time,” you chuckle, lifting your head to wink at him. “This isn’t at the top of my list of places I want to conceive our child at.”

He laughs, looking around at the dark, cold office he drew you into. “Agreed.”

══☆══

Tag list: @patzammit @denisemarieangelina @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @astheskycries @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @la-cey @turtoix @katiew1973 @harrysthiccthighss @tvckerlance @rocketrhap3000 @mrspeacem1nusone @murdcox @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92 @redhairedfeistynerd @whxre4cevans @aubreeskailynn @white-wolf1940 @melchills-j @xoxabs88xox @before-we-get-started @chrissquares @christowhore @ice-dtae @mariestark @justile @rogersbarber @dilfbarber @livstilinski @payperhearts @vintagestarlight @gitasor @chaeycunty @miss-ariella @bemysugarbean @t-stark35 @seitmai @reginaphalange2403 @raelorns21 @mrsgweasley @pandaxnienke @brandycranby

#if you saw me writing this at work no you didn't #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #steve rogers fanfic #requested

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bellaveux · 1 year

Note

The soft college au is sooo amazingly written that I just can’t get enough 😩💕 Would u be willing to write something else for them? Maybe their first real fight with lots of angst but also hurt/comfort…

I adore the way u write, u have a beautiful way with words 💕

NOT A DISTRACTION | wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: being under constant stress from studying, wanda suddenly snaps at you when you try to get her to take a break.

content warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, some fluff (?), college au, arguing, wanda being a little bit mean (?), healthy relationship overall, happy ending, not proofread (thumbs up)

word count: 4.1k

note: i’m so so sorry for the long wait!! i have been having some busy weeks but i hope u like this :] n thank u for requesting!

You never really fought with Wanda. From the moment the two of you started dating, your relationship effortlessly embodied the essence of the honeymoon stage throughout most of your time together. Nothing ever escalated enough to the point where the two of you would yell at each other, and it was usually not a result of avoiding conflict. There were times when short-lived arguments would occur and last about an hour or so, but even then, they were never too much of a big deal. The two of you just talked a lot more. Communicated. She was patient and understanding, and so were you.

But soon, a subtle shift had taken hold of Wanda's world, and you couldn't help but notice the quietness that had settled upon the recent time you spent together. In the past few weeks, Wanda's presence felt somewhat distant, her thoughts seemingly consumed by a demanding pursuit. You could see it. Your eyes noticed the telltale signs almost immediately, the late nights spent poring over textbooks, the fatigue etched on Wanda's face, and the weight of countless assignments pressing upon her shoulders.

Sitting near her desk in the apartment you shared with a book in your hand, you watched the gentle furrow that creased Wanda's brow as she read through her notebook, a reflection of the mental strain she carried. The lulls in the conversations grew longer, the pauses filled with unspoken worries and unexpressed thoughts. You tried your best to support her, being in her presence in some way at least to remind her that you were always there.

But eventually, with each passing day, your eyes became attuned to the nuances of Wanda's silence. You wondered if she even noticed when you scribbled something on that empty, bright orange sticky note on one of her textbooks, hoping she’d find it later.

You then asked her to take a break, even if it was just for a couple of minutes, maybe drink the tea you had made for her a while ago, sitting cold atop the desk now, but you’d always get the same answer. No. It was a short answer, but it was firm. She made no room for any other comments as she continued to bury herself in her work. You witnessed the flickering of determination in Wanda's gaze, the flickering flame that desperately refused to be extinguished by fatigue — which, in the end, didn’t work. And it was hard to ignore.

Your eyes scanned Wanda's fatigued expression, etched with the marks of endless studying and sleepless nights. A gentle concern flickered across your face as you recognized the toll it was taking on your girlfriend.

“Hey,” you stood from your seat, moving behind her chair to wrap your arms around her gently. “I really think you should take a break.”

“No,” she muttered quickly under her breath, her focus unwavering as she read through her textbook.

“Just for a little bit, babe?” You reluctantly continue, asking softly for some of her time with a smile. “We can watch that show you like… I miss you. And, we haven’t hung out in a while—“

“I can’t, (Y/n).”

She spoke quickly and firmly, ghosting her palm over your arms to move them away from her. Wanda stubbornly clung to her determination, her eyes reflecting a steadfast focus that could not be easily swayed. The weight of responsibilities and academic aspirations weighed heavily upon her, causing her to resist the idea of stepping away, even for a short respite.

“You’re exhausted,” you tell her as if it were obvious. “You haven’t taken a break at all, Wanda—“

“I said I can’t. What part of that don’t you understand?”

You take a step back and furrow your eyebrows at her, “I… I do understand… but it’s been weeks. You’ve been studying nonstop for weeks. A tiny break would be good for you, and we’d be able to spend time together a bit, and it’ll help you relax, too—“

Wanda snapped and abruptly stood from her seat, slamming her papers down onto the surface of her desk as she turned to look at you, “I don’t have time, (Y/n). Please. There’s so much material I have to cover and my exams are coming up in less than two weeks and I still have so many chapters to go through and I cannot fail them—If you just understood the pressure I’m under, you wouldn’t keep asking for my time. I don’t have time to relax. I can't afford any distractions!”

Your hopeful anticipation melted away as Wanda's words sliced through the air with unexpected force. Your eyes widened, a flicker of hurt and confusion dancing within their depths. The color drained from your cheeks, leaving behind a subtle pallor that betrayed your shock. Your lips trembled, longing to utter a response, yet finding themselves immobilized for a brief moment by the weight of Wanda's unexpected outburst.

“I-I know that,” you shook your head, trying desperately to blink the tears in your eyes away. “I know they’re important. I just wanted to be there for you and help take your mind off the stress for a little while.”

“It's not about you being there for me right now! What I need is to focus, and it feels like you're just adding more pressure. It’s not fucking helping,” Wanda rolls her eyes and turns her back towards you, eyes glossing over her work.

“Adding pressure? I'm not trying to burden you, Wanda,” you tell her. “I just want you to take a break.”

Wanda sighs, rubbing her temples, “And, all I want is some peace and quiet.”

Ultimately, she gets what she wants.

You left the room without another word, leaving her alone with the peace and quiet she asked for. Wanda listened as you quietly gathered your belongings, your footsteps carrying a weight of sadness as you moved toward the door. Wanda's heart sank as she watched your figure retreat, the room suddenly feeling emptier than ever. She clenched her fists, desperately attempting to focus on her studying, but the longing to go after you tugged at her with every passing second. The textbooks before her turned blurry as Wanda fought against the overwhelming urge to abandon her books and rush after you, to apologize, to hold you close, and to reassure you that you mattered more than any exam ever could.

But for now, Wanda buried her emotions and tried to bury herself in her studies, the silence in the room a painful reminder of the rift between the two of you.

An hour passed with Wanda immersed in her studies, her mind grappling with the complex concepts on the pages before her. However, as time trickled by, the weight of your absence became increasingly unbearable. Thoughts of the argument kept interjecting her focused thoughts, distracting her from the task at hand. Wanda's eyes wandered from the textbooks to the empty chair where you had sat, and her mind replayed their last conversation, each word etching itself into her consciousness. She wondered what you were up to right now. She figured you’d be trying to relax by reading a book or something or working on your own schoolwork on your laptop.

The weight of regret settled upon her shoulders, pressing down with each passing moment. The silence amplified the echoes of the argument, and the memory of her sharp words hung heavily in the air.

“Fuck,” Wanda whispered, dropping her head down against the desk as she thought of you.

The stillness in the air made Wanda long for your presence, for the warmth of your smile and the tenderness of your touch. Wanda's heart ached with the realization of how much she truly missed you, and how much she craved the comfort and connection you shared. As she gazed at her unfinished work, a sense of urgency washed over her, a desperate desire to complete the tasks at hand so that she could have the chance to make amends, to embrace you once more.

Eventually, Wanda closed her books, the decision to head to bed finally crystallizing within her. Though the material lay unfinished, the ache in her heart took precedence. With a heavy sigh, she set her study materials aside, her footsteps carrying her toward the bathroom to brush her teeth before heading into the bedroom you both shared. As she entered the room, her steps weighed down by the lingering remnants of the recent argument, a flicker of anticipation mingled with the uncertainty within her.

“(Y/n)?” Wanda called out softly, nudging the door open quietly with her fingers.

The room was dimly lit, casting a gentle glow that danced upon the walls. In the quiet stillness, her eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, and she noticed a familiar shape nestled amidst the blankets. Drawing closer, her heart skipped a beat as she took in the sight of you, draped in Wanda's oversized, well-worn hoodie. Her heart softened as she stared, and the remnants of the argument faded away in the face of this cherished sight. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she found the sight undeniably endearing. She absolutely loved it when you wore her clothes. It never failed to make her happy.

But as Wanda's gaze settled upon your sleeping face, her smile waned.

Her eyes traced the delicate contours of your face. The dim light of the lampshade by the bed cast a gentle glow upon the room, revealing tear stains glistening on your cheeks. Wanda's heart clenched at the sight, a mix of guilt and sorrow washing over her. Eventually, anger slowly swelled within her, directed solely at herself for the pain she had caused you. The tenderness of your sleeping form, coupled with the traces of tears, shattered any lingering defense mechanisms Wanda had built. The weight of regret bore heavily upon her chest, intensifying with each rise and fall of your breath. She hated it when you cry, more so if she was the reason behind it.

She quietly sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, her touch light and tender, as though she was afraid to disturb the fragile peace of your sleep. She lingered for a moment, taking in the sight of your slumbering form, silently vowing to mend the rift that had formed between the two of you. With a sigh of determination, Wanda leaned down, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead before going into the bathroom to get ready for sleep, then retreating to her own side of the bed, the weight of the night's events heavy on her conscience.

Wanda laid quietly on her back as she recalled what happened earlier, trying to repeat all the words you said along with hers. She didn’t mean to snap at you, and truthfully, she honestly should’ve listened during all of the countless times you told her to take a break. It would’ve eased her, relieve all that tension that was building up in her shoulders. But all of that bottled up stress came pouring out of her tonight, and you were the only one there to be on the receiving end of it.

After what felt like hours of staring at the ceiling, Wanda eventually moved closer to you, unable to fight the urge to reach out to you. Her arms circled around your stomach, drawing you in slowly and tenderly as she tucked her head comfortably in your hair, breathing you in. A soft sigh escaped Wanda's lips as she held you tightly. She could feel your rhythmic breathing, the rise and fall of your chest underneath her arms, and the tension that had plagued her since the argument gradually melted away. You felt so soft in her arms, and she wondered how she could even yell at someone who was just worried about her wellbeing.

Wanda closed her eyes, savoring the softness of your presence, the scent of your hair, and the gentle weight of your body against her own. Slowly, she let herself drift, falling asleep to the sound of your breath, snuggling so close to you.

A soft warmth spread through your being as you slept, the tension in your body gradually easing as you melted into Wanda's touch. Halfway through the night, you subconsciously slipped your hand into Wanda’s, the one that rested against your stomach, gently intertwining your fingers with hers.

Sleep was peaceful. Sometime during the night, you turned over to nestle your face in the crook of Wanda’s neck as she continued to hold you. Your breathing, gentle and steady, harmonized with Wanda's own as if they were creating a shared melody of forgiveness. Unwilling to let go, she held you close, her arms wrapped protectively around you until the sun came up.

You woke up first the next morning, as your classes started at a much earlier time than hers. In a way, you kind of didn’t want to start the day arguing with her, hoping to not annoy her as much as you did yesterday. And you still felt quite upset about what happened last night, so you felt that you should just get ready for the day quietly and deal with it later when your classes are out of the way — if Wanda wanted to deal with it later, that is.

You didn’t exactly know what to expect later when you see each other again when you get home. You thought about apologizing, for not leaving her alone when she asked you to, but you were stubborn and wanted her to take some time off away from all of that work for a while. Although, the weight of Wanda's harsh words still lingered in your mind. You then realized your own role in the escalating tension Wanda was carrying. You persisted, unwilling to give Wanda the space she had requested, and it had only fueled the flames of the fight.

Your college classes seemed to pass by in a blur, the minutes stretching out as your mind continually wandered back to thoughts of your girlfriend, wondering how she was doing in her own classes. The lectures that once held your attention became mere background noise as your thoughts were consumed by unresolved emotions.

Eventually, you stepped through the front door of your apartment, your weary footsteps echoing in the quiet space. The weight of a long day's worth of classes settled upon your shoulders, manifesting as a subtle slouch. You glanced around, expecting to find Wanda waiting for you, but the apartment was empty, devoid of the comforting presence you longed for. You immediately assumed she was at the library, and that she’d probably be home late sometime in the evening.

Weariness creased your brow as you removed your shoes, feeling the fatigue of the day seep through your bones. You didn’t have much work to do, school wise, but you wanted to do something anyway, to distract yourself somehow, so you ended up doing some of the dishes that you left in the sink from the night before. The argument put that chore on pause when you left the room last night.

As the warm water cascaded over your hands, you diligently scrubbed the dishes, finding solace in the simple act of cleaning. The clinking of porcelain against the sink temporarily distracted you from the lingering tension that hung in the air. Lost in your thoughts, you paused, your ears perking up as you heard the familiar creak of the front door opening. Your heart skipped a beat, curiosity mingled with trepidation as you rinsed your hands and stepped away from the sink.

You peeked your head out into the tiny hall that led up to the front door of your apartment, your eyes settling on the sight of your girlfriend who was kicking her shoes off, struggling slightly as she held onto a plastic bag with one hand. Wanda's movements held a mix of exhaustion and relief, her shoulders visibly relaxing as she shed the burdens of the day. The sight stirred a twinge of tenderness within you.

“Wanda?”

“Oh! Hey…” Your girlfriend whipped her head up at the sound of your voice.

For a moment, you turned your head away to look up at the clock, then back to Wanda, furrowing your eyebrows as you looked at her, “What are you doing here?”

“I-I’m home,” Wanda blurted out nervously, walking down the hall to make her way towards you—to greet you with a small kiss like she always does.

“Well, I can see that much,” you replied, voice hinted with a bit of sass as you stepped away and returned to the sink before she could get any closer. “I mean, what are you doing here so early? Shouldn’t you be at the library?”

The tiny smile on Wanda’s face faltered as she watched you back away from her, returning to the sink where you had left the dishes in. Her eyes dropped to the floor, sighing quietly in disappointment as she leaned against the wall. You were upset with her, understandably so, and she hated to live in the present with that fact.

“Uh, no, I… I was thinking of taking your advice. You know, taking that break, like you said,” Wanda fidgeted nervously as she spoke, trying to ease her anxiety by fiddling with the paper bag that was hanging by her fingers. “We can do movies tonight? Or something… Whatever you wanna do. And, I bought some food, too, from that place you like.”

You bit the inside of your cheek for a brief moment as you rinsed off the plate in your hand, still refusing to look at her, “I thought you didn’t have time for distractions.”

Wanda closed her eyes, remembering her words from the night before—words that had obviously hurt you. She walked up and set the paper bag of your favorite takeout on the kitchen table, wondering what she could do to make you look at her.

“No, (Y/n)… You’re not a distraction,” Wanda started, eyes settling on your back as you stood at the sink.

You paused after a moment before turning around to face her, crossing your arms, still guarded as you leaned against the kitchen counter. “That’s not what you said yesterday.”

“I know,” she replied, stepping forward as she ran her palms against her jeans nervously. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You shook your head slightly, showing her a look of confusion as you listened to her words.

Wanda carefully took slow steps to get closer to you as she spoke, “For what I said. For yelling at you. I’ve been so caught up with studying and everything and… I’ve been stressed and I took it out on you last night. I said things that I shouldn’t have said, and I’m so sorry.”

You listened intently, your features softening with each word. Despite your own lingering hurt, you felt a twinge of empathy stirring within you. You understood the weight of regret and the courage it took to confront one's mistakes, and Wanda was trying her best.

“I… I’m exhausted,” she continued, voice trembling with sincerity and regret. “And I miss you. I didn’t realize how much I missed you. I just wanted to hurry and finish everything in one go, so I could give you all of my attention. To focus on you… without worrying about anything else.”

A soft sigh escaped your lips, a mix of relief and longing. For a fleeting moment, you held back, allowing the gravity of the moment to linger, savoring the sweetness of Wanda's heartfelt apology.

“Come here,” you said.

Wand paused for a moment, those two words taking a little bit longer to process in her brain. She watched as you opened your arms, a gesture of acceptance and forgiveness. Wanda stared at your outstretched arms in awe, her breath catching in her throat.

Unable to resist any longer, in one swift motion, she rushed into your waiting arms. Her head dropped instinctively to rest upon your shoulder, finding comfort in the warmth and security that enveloped her. Wanda inhaled deeply, allowing herself to be consumed by your scent. The tension that had settled upon her shoulders, weighing her down with remorse and uncertainty, slowly left.

“I don’t think you’re a distraction, I promise.”

“It’s okay, Wanda. I know. I know you’re tired,” you tell her, soothing your hand over her hair as you felt her grip tighten around your waist. “But, you should really listen when I tell you to take a break. You’re overworking yourself too much and it won’t be good in the long run.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles into your shoulder, planting multiple kisses there against your skin as she held you tightly.

“I forgive you, Wanda,” you say, planting a gentle kiss on her temple before using your hands to cup her face to get her to look at you. “But, just so you know, if you ever yell at me like that again, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

Wanda nodded eagerly, determination shining in her eyes, “Yes ma’am.”

Wanda's features softened as she looked at you, feeling your hands still cupping her face gently, and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, spreading across her face like sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky. Time seemed to stand still as your soft touch grazed Wanda's face, your gentle hands tenderly cradling her cheeks.

She felt your delicate touch on her face, a gentle caress that sent shivers down her spine. The soft pads of your fingers traced the contours of Wanda's cheeks, conveying a tenderness that reached depths untouched by words.

“So what are we watching tonight?” you asked, moving your hands from her face down to rest them on her shoulders.

Wanda's gaze flickered, almost instinctively, to your mouth, her eyes tracing the delicate curve of each syllable that escaped.

Shifting the hands that rested on your waist, Wanda felt herself leaning in closer towards you, her voice barely above a whisper, “Can I kiss you first?”

Your cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink, your gaze shifting down, suddenly shy. You could feel Wanda's eyes fixed upon your lips, her gaze causing your heart to flutter. Sensing the intensity of Wanda's stare, your cheeks flushed, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You couldn't help but respond with a playful shake of your head. A mischievous glint danced in your eyes as you rolled them, a gentle tease to mask the tenderness she felt inside.

With a flicker of amusement, you leaned in closer, your voice laced with affectionate amusement, "Well, if you insist on asking, go ahead."

Wanda's smile grew, her heart swelling as she leaned into your touch. Her lips pressed against yours, sighing into them as her eyes fluttered closed. The touch of your lips against her own was pure bliss, a delicate mingling of warmth and softness that sent a wave of comfort and want coursing through Wanda's veins.

She missed this. She missed you. You tasted so good, and she missed kissing you. She began to think about how thoughtless she has been these past few weeks — how she could miss out on this and spend time with you instead of forcing herself to study.

After a while, your lips curved into a light smile against Wanda’s mouth, a soft giggle falling past your lips. You pulled away for a brief moment to catch your breath, but Wanda chased your lips, pressing hers against yours once again, moaning softly.

“Okay, okay,” you chuckled again when you pulled away once more, using your hands to keep her from coming closer.

“I want to keep kissing you, please,” Wanda said with a smile, grip tightening around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

You tilted your head slightly, meeting Wanda's eyes with a playful glimmer in your own.

“Ah, Wanda,” a mischievous smirk played on your lips as you wrapped your arms around her neck. “Hmm, I think it’s a little too early to be giving you rewards now, don’t you think?”

It was her turn for her cheeks flushed with shyness. Wanda's cheeks pinked, a shy smile tugging at the corners of her lips, breaking through any lingering tension. In that moment, a flicker of hope ignited, weaving through the darkness of the night before that had clouded your relationship.

In that lighthearted moment, the spark of your connection flickered back to life, and the room filled with the promise of forgiveness, growth, and love.

— navigation!

#bellaveux writes!#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #marvel #elizabeth olsen

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seelestia · 2 years

Note

Dunno why I felt compelled to do this, but-

Here's some dialogue I just thought up regarding that angsty af Zhongli oneshot that a certain someone requested (who could it be I wonder 👀👀)

The ones talking are Ganyu and the Reader.

"Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"Your love."

"..."

"I regret not being born earlier."

"I regret not being a goddess."

"I regret not being the first."

"I regret not having the long straight hair he so misses."

"But most of all, I regret not being her."

"But you had no control over any of those! It's not your fault!"

"...That's exactly why it hurts."

We love angst 😩💅💅👍✨

- Ever so sadly yours, 👹✨ Jae (also hi Lia :D been a while since I been in your inbox huehue)

— 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.

a continuation to do you love me? choose a decision at the end! only 1/2 endings available as of now.

summary: a cracked heart is like a cracked jar; it can only hold so much within before it shatters — what if you've come to terms that you cannot take the pain of the truth any longer? (1.2k+ words)

genre: angst, "loves you but not most" trope, lovers to ???? (open-ended / cliffhanger i'm sorry.) + read the alt text on the header for extra summary!

characters: ganyu, zhongli, guizhong (implied).

cw: descriptions of crying, one pet name.

thoughts: you came into my inbox after a while and you brought pain with you. i'm not particularly proud of this but here you go, i cannot be blamed for these buckets of tears any longer. (/j)

✰ main masterlist. // series masterlist.

The night was young in Liyue, the breeze was gentle as it swept across the lands — but oh, how you wished the wind could also blow the sadness in your heart.

Blurry sight, soaked cheeks, sheer and pure numbness. For how long had you been like this? Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days. Whatever perception of time you had left just seemed to crumble to dust.

You couldn't help but wonder why? Ha, what irony when you knew very well why.

Wasn't it the truth that was relayed to you some time ago? Wasn't that why you decided to sneak away whilst your lover was sleeping, why you were crying in the company of a concerned friend, why you were here right now?

"I'm so sorry—" you choked out an apology to Ganyu through bated breath.

Your friend was out for a midnight stroll when she saw you and upon seeing how red your eyes were, she didn't leave your side out of worry ever since. You tried to reassure her that you'd be fine alone, really — but she looked so devastated, equally as sorrowful as you were like the very sadness in your heart was her own.

But you felt pathetic; so pathetic and so pitiful.

Nothing had been the same after that day, as much as you wished to deny it. Curiosity did kill the cat, after all; in your case, curiosity was what condemned your soul to a void of nothingness.

They said love was what filled a human's soul and if that were true, then you would be nothing but a shell of a soul. Zhongli gave you a love that you wished to cradle with your all forever — but he was never yours, never completely yours. Yet, how could you blame him? How could you ever blame him for experiencing a love so great he wasn't able to forget it?

"I'm not her. I could never be her," you finally forced the words out, clutching onto the railing of Liyue Harbor until a stinging pain greeted your hands. It had been the simplest conclusion, yet the hardest pill to swallow. A fate you couldn't change even if you wished you could so bad, someone unrivaled you could only imagine holding a candle to. Bitter and self-deprecating were the quiet laughter you let out at the realization.

Never was, never will.

"[Y/N], you don't have to apologize," was all Ganyu could afford to utter. She knew she should've said more, but the words escaped her barren mind; perhaps, it would be better to listen instead of saying something that could make matters worse. You could tell that Ganyu was disappointed in herself for not being able to provide you with profound wisdom or the right words of comfort.

Truthfully, you couldn't help but feel terrible for putting her in this situation, for possibly ruining her night with your mood. But when the Adeptus placed her hand on the crook of your elbow as a physical reminder that she was here for you, you smiled. Then, you turned your head towards the ocean and closed your eyes.

Finally, the pain of crying finally caught up to you, hoping that the blowing night breeze could somewhat soothe the stinging dryness and heavy bags underneath your eyes. As you did so, in the corner of your mind, a single thought passed by and you caught it by its tail.

Was it a thought meant to be voiced or buried? Either way, you brought it to life and wondered out loud.

"...Would it be better if I broke things off instead?"

Your question seemed to take Ganyu by complete surprise.

You knew why so; before your relationship with Zhongli came to be, Ganyu was one of the listening ears to your constant rambles about him. How much you admired him, how flustered you were when he smiled at you, or how you felt like you could float to the skies whenever he spared you a single glance. You recalled the surprised look on Ganyu's face when you first told her about your feelings for her Lord, but she was supportive towards your endeavor.

Now, here was where both of you stood. Oh, how time flew.

"Do you remember when he accepted my confession?" Even with your eyes closed, you could almost feel Ganyu nodding at your words. You were the same, you felt as if you could recall it like it had only been yesterday too. "I was so happy I felt like I could float to the clouds and never return. The man of my dreams is finally mine! I thought," you laughed, but there was no hint of mirth evident in your tone.

"What was it like? Being loved by him?" That sort of question sounded foreign to Ganyu but still, she asked, a willingness on her part to indulge in your nostalgia.

"Warm like having someone wrap a blanket around you and comforting like feeling the steam from a cup with your favorite tea on your face after a long day," you hummed. If loving Zhongli and being loved by him were a feeling, it would've been one that you'd never let go of... but you knew this feeling was no longer the same after the truth.

"I am not his greatest love, yet he is mine," it was something you stated solemnly, having come to terms with that fact yet not being able to fully withstand the ache that came with it yet.

When you continued, your voice broke and you frowned, "Why does it have to hurt so much? I want to stay with him, I want to pretend I didn't hear anything that day, I want to go back to the time where I knew nothing about her — but I couldn't."

The corner of your eyes began to sting once more, welling up with tears at a possibility of euphoria which you could never go to. "If only I could, then I wouldn't spend all my nights awake, wondering why I wasn't her or thinking of ways I could somehow be better than her in his eyes. If I could, I'd be sleeping happily in his arms right now and... I wouldn't feel this pain anymore."

There was no stopping the waterfall running down your cheeks now and you could feel that stinging pain again as a result. "But that's a fantasy," you breathed out. You were just so tired and your knees were beginning to feel weak — but still, you looked at Ganyu through your blurred vision.

"...What should I do? Should I save myself or dwell in blissful ignorance?" You whispered with a smile that was unbefitting of your melancholic question. Ganyu hesitated but before she could formulate an answer, a familiar spoke from behind the two of you.

"...My love," a voice that was all too familiar and a nickname that caused all that was going on in your brain to halt.

You froze, veins running cold.

"R-Rex Lapis?"

Ganyu's shocked yelp confirmed it all.

There Zhongli was, standing there. A few strands of his hair looked amiss as if licked by the wind from a fast-paced trip, as if he had just gone places, as if he just went everywhere searching after waking up with you nowhere to be found in his arms. Maybe, that was exactly what he did.

His amber eyes were downcast and the way he was standing so fixedly instead of looking like he had just arrived instantly made your heart clench — because that could only mean one thing.

He heard everything.

[ WHAT IS YOUR NEXT DECISION? ]

↪ Stay quiet and dwell on your thoughts of breaking up with Zhongli.

↪ Wipe away your tears and put on a smile as if Zhongli didn't hear anything. — COMING SOON!

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

#genshin x reader #genshin x you #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #genshin angst #zhongli angst #seelestial.inks #dylm.series 🍵

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mangoshorthand · 1 year

Note

heyy could i maybe request a oneshot where sub five gets marked up by the reader like hickeys and bite marks all over his throught and collarbone as well as his lower torso😻 and as the reader progresses he whimpers and is whiny the whole time and at the end he looks himself in the mirror and hes just so inlove with it? 😩

sorry if its a bit messy😭 have a great night/day :))

Great prompt. Hope you enjoy :). I promise the next ask prompt I answer will be non smut.

Your Desperate Man | Five Hargreeves/ GN Reader 2.8k words, Rated E

There were no two ways about it: Five was hot.

If you were to set him beside Diego, you definitely wouldn’t notice Five first, but he would be the one you'd leave the conversation thinking about. All Diego’s leather-bound muscles may as well not exist beside Five’s acerbic tongue, quiet good looks and the firm self-assurance in his intelligent green eyes.

So you could hardly resent it when others noticed. Why would you hate someone for sharing your good taste? Whenever you noticed him turning heads, your first instinct was one of fellow-feeling. You almost wanted to say, ‘I know, right?!’ and share a high-five.

So, no, you didn’t get jealous easily.

…But that bitch was getting on your last nerve.

It started a few months ago. She was a friend of Sloane’s who hung around the Academy like a bad smell. Ever since she met him, she latched onto him like a tick and, as soon as she could feasibly describe him as her friend, she came to spend time with him as much as possible, looking for his insight on some problem or another.

She was a mathematician, meaning that she could follow most of his logic when he talked about his latest projects. She could flatter him by learning from him and coming back a few days later with an improvement to her own work.

If you were jealous of anything, you were jealous of that.

Despite how he might look, Five was not perfect: he had an ego, and Alex knew exactly how to stroke it. And that was fine, in your opinion- so long as his ego was the only thing he let her stroke.

She nodded along and acted impressed and asked all the right questions and subtly flattered him and laughed at his jokes and made absolutely any excuse she could to touch his arm or his knee; to hug him hello and goodbye and she did it ALL while you were right there.

Fuck her!

But you trusted Five. He could see right through her, of course, but that didn’t stop him enjoying the attention. He rebuffed her with a perfect mix of politeness and friendliness, but he’d still leave most of his conversations with her with a swagger in his walk and an ironic smile directed at you.

‘Old dog’s still got it,’ that smile said.

You trusted that he had it under control, and he did actually like her as a person for some unknown reason, so you contented yourself with telling him your concerns. He agreed that they weren’t unfounded and reassured you that her feelings were definitely not reciprocated.

So, when you walked past the door of his father’s study one afternoon when she was over, you weren’t intending to listen outside the door, but the snatch of conversation you heard as you passed made you stop dead.

“I had a dream about you last night.”

“Something about invariant theory, I bet.”

“No,” she said, coyly.

There was a moment of silence in which she was clearly trying to get him to enquire what it was about, but he didn’t give her the satisfaction.

“Right. So this stuff is child’s play,” he said, returning to the math as if she hadn’t spoken, “it’s pretty much Hilbert’s thirteenth, which I’m sure you’re familiar with. We’ve got to think about whether these functions can be written as a composite-”

“Don’t you want to know what happened in my dream?” she interrupted him.

There was a moment or two of silence before he replied.

“Not particularly. Now, would you like me to go on with the math or do you have somewhere to be?”

Satisfied, you continued on your path elsewhere.

Apparently, she did have somewhere to be, because she passed you on her way to the front door only a few minutes later. Five did not follow her to say goodbye.

Smut below cut

***

That evening, you entered the bedroom to find him preparing for sleep. Unusually for Five, he was clad in a t-shirt and sweats rather than pajamas. His towel-dried hair hung messily in his eyes. He smiled when he saw you, wrinkling his face momentarily into the lines he should by all rights have except for a certain time-travel accident.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you said.

You closed the door and crossed to the comfortable reading chair, raising your legs onto the arm. Five, trying to neaten his hair in the mirror, spoke casually.

“I don’t think Alex will be coming over again.”

“How come?” you asked, wanting to hear the rest of what happened.

“Hmph,” he said, disinterestedly, “she came onto me and I told her to fuck off.”

“What happened,” you said, interested.

“She came on flirty, like she does, but this time she tried to kiss me.”

He inspected a patch of dry skin on his neck.

“What?” you ask, enraged.

“Don’t worry,” he said, placatingly, “she was told precisely where to go. It was pretty pathetic, actually,” he remarked.

“I think I heard some of it,” you admit, “she was talking about having a dream about you and you made it clear you weren’t interested.”

“Yup, that was right before,” he said, darkly.

“Bitch.” you grumbled, “I knew she’d try something.”

“Well, you were right,” Five continued, applying a layer of moisturizer to his face, “but she won’t be trying anything again.”

You watched his face in the mirror, absorbed in his pre-bedtime routine. He was a creature of habit, you discovered: a man of little quirks and rituals, particularly when it came to personal grooming. As it had been so long denied him, he reveled in the luxury of even the tiniest routines: trimming his nails weekly, shaving his face daily and looking after his hair and skin.

The more intimately you got to know him, the less cool and caustic he seemed. Underneath it all, there was just a sweet old-young man crying out to be loved and needed.

…And occasionally fucked.

“Don’t tell me you weren’t just a little bit tempted,” you smiled, standing up and approaching him from behind.

“Of course I wasn’t,” he said, mildly offended, “I’m yours.”

He said it casually, as if he hadn’t quite thought through what he was saying. He caught your eye in the mirror as you appeared over his shoulder. He smiled slightly sheepishly at the familiar gleam in your eye.

Your arms slithered around his waist. Beneath his shirt your hands traveled over the warm muscle and flat stomach. His skin felt like silk. As the very tips of your fingers breached the elastic of his waistband, your chin came to rest on his shoulder, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered.

“What was that?”

A fine blush appeared in his cheek, like a delicate drop of watercolor.

“I said, I’m yours.”

Your lips played about his neck, your eyes holding his captive through the medium of the mirror.

He looked at you, expression open and anticipatory. He swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing attractively. You ghosted your lips further down, towards the hollow between his neck and his shoulder. Mouth poised there, you spoke again, voice husky.

“Say it again.”

He shuddered with the knowledge of what was coming, and breathed:

“I’m yours.”

And you sucked a bruise onto his skin. Long, lingering and sudden. He let out a shaky breath as you did so, eyes drifting into a haze of pleasure. You pulled away and admired the mark, a port-wine stain spread on that delicate silk. His eyes were similarly engaged, looking at the new hickey in the mirror as if he’d never seen one before.

Taking the opportunity of his preoccupation, you looked at his face: the sweet, parted lips, the heavy brow and the jaw that could have been sculpted by Michelangelo. By the time his eyes returned to yours, the look within them made the slow, crawling sensation below his waistband redouble.

“Do you want more?”

He nodded slowly, but as you moved to mark him again, he abruptly turned his head towards you so that your lips met his instead. It was as if he couldn’t resist anymore, like a man dying of thirst finding a clear mountain stream. Leaning backwards into you, he sighed into your mouth and let your tongue roam.

He was so sweet in this mood; uncharacteristically compliant. Every time it came upon him, you never failed to be enchanted by him. Everyone always looked to him for direction and authority and this was one way he could take a break from all the responsibility. You were more than happy to give him that, especially when it left him looking all undone and pretty like this.

When you broke away from him, your hands were playing beneath his shirt, fingers stroking up and down the soft line of hair disappearing into his sweats. He closed his eyes as you again pinged the elastic on his pants, but they shot open again as your teeth nipped at the flesh of his neck.

He whined as you bit and sucked, the mild pain only adding spice to the pleasure: the prickle of fired up nerve-endings and needful ache in the lowest part of his stomach. As you dug your teeth in fraction more, you compensated by cupping his crotch through his sweatpants and holding him where he was hard.

When you let the skin go and turned back to the mirror, his eyes didn’t even meet yours: he only had eyes for the deep red mark you’d made and the white, crescent-shaped teeth marks disappearing before his eyes.

“You like that, baby,” you murmured, comforting his aching package with firm, circular rubbing motions.

“Yes,” he said, voice slightly higher than usual.

“Do you want more? Wanna be covered in them?”

He nodded enthusiastically, like a shy child offered his favorite candy.

“Arms over your head then.”

He complied, letting you peel off his t-shirt and discard it over your shoulder. You hummed appreciatively at the range of flesh now on display: at the pale, unspoiled skin you were about to pepper with burst capillaries. You weren’t a violent person, but you couldn’t deny the little squirm of sadistic glee at the idea of him covered with your marks.

The hand not engaged with his groin flitted up his stomach to stimulate the close bud of one nipple, making him buck automatically into your hand. The small noise he made went straight to the center of your own arousal; he was just so fucking aborable like this, all needy and pathetic.

So you sucked at him again, hungrily, leaning over to mark his collarbone. This time, you couldn’t resist giving him more than a nip with your teeth, biting him enough to abruptly stop his little whimpers and cause him to suck in air over his teeth. Despite this, he still watched, transfixed, as you worked at him with his arousal aching in your hand.

You eased up, letting his skin go and kissing the deeper teeth marks, as if you might undo the pain with each kiss.

“Too much?” you asked.

“A little,” he whispered, eyes nevertheless devouring the sight of his third mark.

You gave a little pout in sympathy with his plight and kissed his cheek.

“Shall I go easy on you?”

“For a little while.” he replied, that sheepish, coy smile on his lips. You knew what it meant: wind me up tighter first.

You were more than happy to oblige.

He moved as if towards the bed as you stepped back from him, but your hands on his shoulders kept him in place.

“You stay there.” you said, “I want you to be able to see yourself.”

“Okay,” he whispered, facing the mirror again as you came to stand in front of him.

His whines were music to your ears as you attacked your next target, sucking complementary bruises onto each pectoral. Then, bending to allow him to admire the new hickies, you moved further south. You grazed and suckled again and again at his subtly toned abdominals, his flank, and at the softer flesh of his stomach. As you did so, your hands explored the body they had explored so well, yet could never tire of exploring. You rubbed at his chest, hips, ass and thighs.

Each time you withdrew, he surveyed himself hazily, reveling with slavish pleasure in the cumulative effect of your claim on him: your flags planted on his body. The thought ratcheted his arousal to a higher pitch, and he felt his knees tremble as his heartbeat became evident in his groin.

When you sucked at the v-shaped furrow running invitingly towards his pubis, his whimpers redoubled. One of his hands came to your hair, fingers massaging your scalp. His hips pulled forward, as if your face attracted them like a magnet. Wordlessly, he begged with more pathetic little sounds.

You ignored his little ‘suggestion’ and rose to your feet from the spot you’d been kneeling.

Thwarted, Five let out a frustrated, high moan. His left hand immediately disappeared beneath his waistband, attending to his own need in a move of desperation. It made you smirk to see it, so you allowed him a few moments to pleasure himself while you admired his face:

His hair, starting to dry, was beginning to stick up at odd angles while the rest clung to his brow. His forehead was held a tight pinch with the intensity of his arousal and his lips were curled around gritted teeth, bringing the slight hook in his nose into greater prominence. Still in front of the mirror, his eyes were closed, his head tilted back. Muscles jumped in the neck beneath his thrust-forward chin.

As gladly as you could have watched him beating himself off beneath those sweatpants, it would have to be something to file away for another day. Today was about reminding him (as if he needed reminding), who he belonged to.

So, with this in mind, you licked one of his nipples with a deliberate, preparatory tongue.

“Oh,” he said, speaking half in exhale, “f-feels good.”

You sucked the nipple hard into your mouth, continuing to swipe your tongue over the hard bead between your lips. He panted, and then jerked as you closed your teeth around him.

“Oh shit!”

Experimentally, you tightened your bite around him and the speed of his strokes increased. Clearly, this was doing something quite profound to him. He let out a squeak that made your own nipples harden.

All of time could be at the mercy of Five Hargreeves, if he so chose, yet you could make him mewl like a newborn kitten.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “bite me. Fucking bite me.”

He whined again as your tongue continued to stimulate him, as you sucked his areola into your mouth and clamped your teeth down, marking him again.

“Ah shit! Harder!”

But you didn’t want to hurt him, so you released his swollen nipple and took his wrist, stopping him touching himself. He huffed needily, but didn’t resist.

You came to stand behind him again, pulling his wrists gently behind his back and tugging on them so that his body was completely on display in the mirror. You kissed from his shoulder to his cheek, trying not to smile at his obvious discomfort; at the stretched fabric of the sweatpants around his perfectly-imprinted cock, sticking firmly out from his body.

“What do you see, Five?” you whispered, once more into his ear.

“Please,” he whimpered, shifting slightly.

“What do you see in the mirror?” you repeated, more firmly.

He considered in a feverish sort of way.

“A desperate man,” he said, trying to nuzzle beseechingly into you, but unable to turn his head with his arms held that way.

“Whose desperate man?”

“Yours,” he said tripping over himself to satisfy you, “I’m yours, okay?”

“Look at yourself,” you pushed.

He did, lust-clouded eyes eating up the sight.

Marks. All over him. Fuck.

Seeing himself this way made him shiver. He reveled in the feeling of safe powerlessness, here at your mercy. He was definitely yours. Yours to do with as you pleased: your bruises and bite marks all over him were proof. He knew at least one that would be visible above his shirt collar tomorrow, and the idea filled him with a whorish sense of satisfaction. His cock ached harder at the idea that everyone would know he was yours. Your man.

Your devotee.

Your toy.

And he would submit willingly to whatever you chose to do next.

Request masterlist >> HERE

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed): @thebearmage

NOTE: Dom!Five was my first love but Sub!Five is growing on me. Maybe I just like Switch!Five.

I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See masterlist for request status and more.

#check out his ear in that gif. It's hypnotic.#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy smut #the umbrella academy five #umbrella academy number five #umbrella academy five x reader #umbrella academy five x you #five hargreaves x you #five hargreaves x reader #number five imagine #five hargreeves imagine #number 5 imagine #number 5 x reader #number five x you #five hargreeves x gn reader

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

real magic (explicit)

genre: smut, fluff, bangin’ your boss, m attempts kidfic - part of a hyung holiday collab !

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: the holiday season has never meant anything to you beyond suffering long hours for minimum wage and awaiting the collapse of capitalism— but this year, you’d be willing to add making out with your dilf coffee shop boss to the list.

word count: 16.7k 😩

contains: ~*~explicit sexual content (after kind of a slow burn sorry lol)~*~ the "moving back to your hometown" hallmark trope, a nick jonas poster (yes that's a warning), some taekook slander in the beginning because i thought it was funny, namjoon is so buff and so dumb but so wise and so hot, moni is a little shit, namjoon is a dad!, namjoon's kid uses they/them pronouns but it's not like A Focus of the story it's just flavor, reader thinks joon has a dead wife for like one second 💀 mentions of teenage pregnancy and co-parenting, one incredibly stupid asshole customer lmao, mint choco slander (it's what namjoon would want 😌), obviously there is an employee/boss power dynamic but they talk about it and figure it out because this is namjoon and he overthinks everything, namjoon driving (he's a dad i have to assume he would get his license if he had a literal child!!!!!!!!) and a lotta sentimental holiday and life talk. here are ur sex specific warnings: making out/going to second base in a car in a parking lot (what is it with my namjoons and cars in parking lots yo), fingering, semi-drunk sex, and fuckin' rawwwww with a smidge of size and breeding kink lmao (but she's on the pill!!! no more kids!!!!!!)

A/N: hello hello hi merry crisis this damn fic is finally here lmao~ as i have been babbling on about for days i really really (REALLY) love how this namjoon turned out he's just hesjkrgdhtgk such a fucking himbo but a good dad and wise and did i mention hot aaaaaa 🫠 all the love in my gay little heart to @goodsoop for their barista wisdom and real life experiences that went into this one (the cookie story will never not make me laugh) ! and to @sailoryooons for beta reading this 50 million times and encouraging me when i was convinced it sucked ass, and also for making all the gorgeous banners for this collab 😭

which btw - be sure to go check out @gimmethatagustd & @sailoryooons & @nabiolive 's fics tooooo !!! i've loved collabing with them so very much even when we were all hashtag Going Through It, we got the whole damn hyung line you hear meeeeee 🎁🎁🎁🎁

read on AO3!

Rudely awoken by the incessant beep of your alarm, you open your eyes to find Nick Jonas staring back at you, and you sit up with a scream.

Realization washes over your sleep-addled brain in waves: first, that you aren’t actually staring at a real person. He’s just smizing on a hot pink poster, held up by some remarkably durable masking tape you stuck to the wall fifteen years ago. Second, it comes back to you that you are staring at said poster because you’ve woken up in your childhood bedroom. It’s been left untouched since you were a teenager, like a weird time capsule of all your high school obsessions.

After reaching for your phone to silence the alarm, you kick your way out from under the blankets, trying not to make eye contact with Nick, or Justin, or Zayn as you stumble to the bathroom. The circumstances of your grand return to living in your goddamn parents’ house linger like a bad taste in your mouth, one that all the tongue brushing in the world can’t remove.

It still doesn’t feel real. Taehyung, your best friend in the world since freshman year of college, kicked you out. Sure, it may have been phrased more like a gentle request, but as far as your ego is concerned, it still feels like exile. Banishment, even. The person you thought you could never be parted from made his choice, and he chose his fucking boyfriend over you.

Jungkook. You think the name with all the venom your cold, dead heart can manage as you spit toothpaste into the sink.

Jungkook, the weird, bug-eyed kid who put his toe-socked feet on your couch, drank his banana milk out of your favorite mug, and ate up all of your Samyang ramyeon because he ‘thought it was communal’.

Jungkook, who ruined your sleep schedule nightly, either by fucking Taehyung senseless on the other side of your paper-thin apartment wall, or by blasting the same four Ariana Grande songs over and over on his bluetooth speaker and singing along in an annoyingly good voice. Either activity would go on well into the early hours of the morning, until you had to bang on the wall so hard you nearly put your fist through it.

Jungkook, whose dog once took a shit right on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.

Bam was cute enough to forgive, of course. But you can never forgive Taehyung for his betrayal. Especially when he knew you’d just been fired from your shitty coffee shop job for the stupidest reason ever, and he didn’t let that derail or even delay him. He still went ahead and delivered the killing blow.

Et tu, Taehyung? you think angrily to yourself as you stand in front of the suitcase containing as much of your closet as you could possibly fit. You still need to go back for your bigger furniture, and little things like your plates and your mugs and your silverware, which Jungkook is probably putting his grimy little fingers all over at this very moment. But until you’ve checked out of your indefinite vacation at the Nightmare Parental Hotel, there doesn’t really seem a point.

If you were less upset, you might take consolation in the fact that your parents aren’t actually here, that they’ve jaunted off to their timeshare until the new year, but you’re busy being too swallowed whole by your misery to find an ounce of joy in any piece of your current reality.

You dig through the pile of clothes until you manage to pull out something halfway decent. The first order of business now that you’ve moved back in is simple: acquire another stupid coffee shop job. You have no plans to stick around long, you just need something seasonal that will give you some meager income while you start looking for a real gig, one that is ideally not in your hometown.

Watching yourself in the mirror as you pull on a simple black blouse and your least-stained pair of jeans, you attempt to mentally dust off your interview skills. You conjure up your best fake smile and customer service voice, both of which are second-nature at this point.

Why do you want this job? “I’m just so passionate about coming home sticky and verbally abused by caffeine-addicted assholes every night.”

What’s your biggest weakness? “Clearly it’s the fact that I’m a ray of fucking sunshine.”

Why were you terminated from your last job? “Oh, well, I attempted to get my previous employer to improve their standards of worker treatment. You see, I selfishly requested that they raise the bar a single notch above hell. Certainly won’t happen again!”

This should go well, you tell yourself, and your reflection grimaces back.

With several hours to kill before your job interview and a growing desire to avoid the weird nostalgia of your childhood that seems to lurk in every corner of your parents’ house, you decide to take a walk.

The sky is bright blue and cloudless, and though the air is brisk, it isn’t terribly windy. You tuck in your earbuds as you shut the front door behind you and pick a direction, aimless, letting your mind wander to the soundtrack of your “seasonal depression” playlist.

A whole new crop of families must have moved into your parents’ neighborhood in the years since you moved out, because the streets are more alive with kids than you can ever remember them being, even when you were a kid yourself. Bikes and scooters lay abandoned on the sidewalks between homes, and you can hear the repeated echo of a basketball dribbling on a driveway, punctuated by distant, playful screaming.

Even in the daytime, you can tell these families have spared no expense when it comes to Christmas decor: some homes have every eave outlined in string lights, some have candy cane stakes dug into the perimeter of their perfectly manicured lawns, and some have been seemingly invaded by small armies of inflatable reindeer and snowmen. You can’t help but giggle a little at the inflatable decorations that have been set to turn off during the day, the way the airless material lays limp in the grass, giving the impression of a yard strewn with dead bodies.

But you remember what it looked like when you drove in last night, everything lit up and brought to life.

Your parents definitely didn’t have inflatable lawn decorations when you were a kid, but you’d get so excited every year when your dad would drag the ladder out and spend the day stringing up the simple rainbow lights you did have. You still remember the little spark of joy you’d feel in your chest when the colors would click on after dark, the way you would run outside every night just to see them twinkle, your breath puffing steam clouds in the air, your bare feet freezing on the ice-cold driveway.

It felt like magic then. But somewhere along the way you grew up. And now that feeling’s gone. Even at night, the lights just look like… lights.

Distracted as you are by the music in your ears and thoughts of your childhood that have brought you to a standstill on the sidewalk, you don’t notice what’s happening until it’s too late.

A blur of red and white is suddenly circling around and between your legs, and you feel something twining over your ankles, then tugging with a force that threatens to knock you off balance. As you lean forward in an attempt to right yourself, the chaos in question slows enough for you to realize it’s a fluffy white dog in a red sweater, who has excitedly tangled you up in his leash.

You manage to find the looped end of the leash and slowly get yourself unwrapped while the dog continues to pant and jump and occasionally yap at you. With your legs freed, you squat down for a proper greeting, laughing to yourself as he lifts up on his hind legs, balancing his paws on your knee to lick an enthusiastic greeting across your cheek.

“Hi, puppy,” you murmur, trying to get him to hold still long enough to read the name on his tag. A voice beats you to it.

“Moni!”

When you glance up to find Moni’s owner jogging up the sidewalk, you have to make a conscious effort to keep your own tongue in your mouth, because good lord, he is fine.

He’s tall, towering over you even once you bring yourself back up to standing, and the black workout tank and athletic shorts he’s wearing do absolutely nothing to hide the thick, well-defined muscles of his arms, chest, and thighs.

Despite his lack of clothing in the cool winter air, you can see his face and neck are slick with sweat, his white-blonde hair damp with it too. There’s even a dark patch that’s soaked his shirt at his sternum, making the firm swell of his pecs that much more apparent. It takes you an extra second to break eye contact with them, but when you do finally manage to drag your gaze up to meet his, you realize his face is just as nice of a view: honey-tan skin, full lips, and cute dimples that pop as he gives a sheepish, appreciative laugh.

“Thank you,” he says, a little breathless; his voice is deep and slightly husky in a way that makes your face grow hot. You blink stupidly at him for a few moments, your mind reeling, and then it occurs to you that you still have his dog’s leash in your hand.

“No problem,” you manage, handing the looped end back over and double-checking to make sure your ankles are still free from their entanglement. Though now that this man is holding the leash, you kind of wish they weren’t.

“Moni’s usually good about not taking off when I stop to do a circuit,” he explains, like you’re the dog owner police. It makes you wonder what kind of Karens must have moved into this neighborhood since you left it. “I don’t know why he ran, maybe he saw a squirrel or something.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with a smile, admiring Moni as he stretches and settles into a polite seated pose. “I like his sweater.”

“Thanks,” he laughs again. “C’mon Mon.”

You can’t help focusing on how big this guy’s hands are as he slips his fingers through the end of Moni’s leash, tugging slightly as if to encourage the dog back in the direction he came from.

Moni blinks and stays right where he is.

“You little shit,” his owner huffs under his breath, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. You distantly realize you should probably leave them to it and continue on your walk, but this is too entertaining to turn away from now. Your hot neighbor tries one more futile attempt to get Moni to move, then seems to give up entirely.

He stoops down with a low grunt of effort that makes your core flutter as he grabs the fluffy dog and hoists him up in his arms. You try to force yourself to stop noticing the way his biceps flex, the fact that the muscles of his arms are nearly bigger than your head.

“Thanks again,” he says with a final grateful smile, and your only response is to swallow hard and stand there like an idiot as he turns and carries his spoiled dog back home.

When you arrive for your interview, you’re delighted to discover that Indigo Coffee is nothing like your last job. It’s warm and bright, with large picture windows that flood the space in sunlight, and there’s a cozy personal touch to it, the likes of which you’d certainly never see in your former corporate shell of a workplace. The sitting area is dotted with live edge wood tables and mismatched chairs. There are an array of framed paintings on the walls that look handmade in a good way, simple yet bold brush-stroke lines in a deep blue color scheme. And, you realize as your eyes linger, the shop is absolutely overflowing with plants: in simple clay pots lined up along the windows, free-standing between tables, and tucked into bookshelves placed artfully throughout the space.

You step closer to inspect one as you wait on your interviewer and are pleased to see that it’s real, that they all are— no waxy fake leaves jammed into a thick block of cement, but real greenery sprouted in real dirt, deep brown soil gone soft from what must have been a recent watering. These are plants someone cares for, coaxed and kept alive by someone’s time and patience and love. The thought makes you smile a little despite yourself.

There’s still fucking Christmas music playing, but you figure that’s inescapable this time of year.

“Are you here for the interview?” someone asks over your shoulder. As you turn away from the plant, you wonder if you’re imagining that the voice in question sounds slightly familiar, and then you find yourself once again staring up at a fine-ass man with white-blonde hair and a sweet pair of dimples.

He’s clearly showered since your last encounter, and is now slightly more covered up in a pair of faded jeans and a gray-green flannel thrown over a black shirt emblazoned with bold white lettering: Protect Trans Kids.

“Oh.” Moni’s owner blinks back at you, and the shock on his face is so apparent that a giggle escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Uh, hi again.”

“Hi,” you echo, equally flustered, before realizing you failed to answer his initial question. “Oh, yeah. Yes. I am. The interview. I’m— that’s me.” So well-spoken, you mentally kick yourself.

One dimple deepens slightly as he extends a hand. “Kim Namjoon. Owner of Indigo Coffee. And the world’s least obedient dog, as you saw earlier.”

You offer your best handshake in return and a smile that you surprisingly don’t have to force as you give Namjoon your name. He gestures to a table in the corner, and you each pull back a chair to have a seat. You try to banish any potential horny thoughts from your brain, but shifting into interview mode proves difficult as he rests his large hands on the table in front of him, drumming idly along to the horribly cheery music.

You manage to tear your gaze away from Namjoon’s fingers when he speaks again. “If it’s cool with you, we can just chat a little? I’m not so good at conducting formal interviews. Too inauthentic.”

It’s like you can feel some of the tension release from your shoulders. “I— yeah. That sounds great.”

“Cool,” he nods, and you try to ignore the rush of heat up your neck at the intensity of his stare. Professional, be professional. “So I saw on your resume that it looks like your last few jobs were out of town. Did you just move here?”

“Moved back,” you say quickly. “Yeah. I grew up here, actually.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen a little in clear interest. “Really? What brings you back?”

You purse your lips as you consider how to phrase it. “My life… kind of fell apart. So. I moved in with my parents for a bit. Like a winner.” His dimples pop when he smiles at your joke, and you drop your gaze to the table. “Just trying to figure out what’s next, and find something seasonal in the meantime.”

“Well, we could certainly use the help,” Namjoon admits. When you chance a glance up, there’s a look on his face like he’s choosing his next words carefully. “I saw in your application that you were terminated from your last position.” He leans in, lowering his voice slightly as he continues. “I’m gonna be honest, I hate that we even ask that question. But can you tell me a bit about what happened?”

You keep your stare fixed on the wood grain in front of you as you try to stay calm. “Well, if I can be honest too...” Squeezing your eyes shut, you tell yourself to just say it. “I was fired for trying to unionize.”

“Oh.” Namjoon sounds surprised, but you can’t manage to look at him. “Really?” You nod slowly, biting down on your bottom lip. “That’s— fucking illegal.”

That makes your gaze snap back up to meet his. His brow is furrowed slightly, a muscle in his jaw pulled tight.

“Yeah,” you say belatedly. “Yeah, I know. They made up a bunch of fake excuses as to why I was fired, but I knew what it really was. It was because I wanted them to actually pay us what we were worth, and hire more workers so we weren’t being scheduled to death. And I was getting everyone else riled up too, and I guess it scared them.”

Namjoon sits back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Huh. Man. Well, I’m sorry that happened to you.”

It takes you a second to process what you’re hearing. Union has always been a scary word for any person in upper management you’ve previously encountered. You hadn’t expected this to be so… easy. For him to understand, or sympathize. “I— yeah. I am too.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Namjoon continues quickly, “I think it’s great, what you tried to do. I’m very pro-union.” He pauses for a moment, his face twisting slightly in thought. “I mean, admittedly, we don’t have one here. Granted, there are only five of us. I should probably ask, though, if they want one.”

You can’t quite hide your smile. “I’m gonna take a guess that you probably treat your employees pretty well as-is.”

“I try,” he says with a shake of his head. His eyes meet yours again. “So, here’s the deal. You have a ton of experience, and with holiday time off and a few people out sick, I’m super understaffed right now. You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders, and hopefully you feel like you can come to me if you have any issues, without fearing retaliation.”

You blink slowly, and he must be able to read the disbelief on your face. “What I’m saying is I’m offering you the seasonal position,” he clarifies. “Is that— do you, uh, accept?”

“Yes.” The word is chased by a dazed laugh, and Namjoon’s dimples resurface around a small smile.

“Cool. I told you I’m bad at interviews,” he huffs, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. You try to ignore the swell of his bicep, clearly visible even beneath his bulky flannel. “I know this is a lot to ask, but. Is there any chance you can start, like, right now? Because Jimin’s shift ends in…” He tilts a little, fishing his phone from the front pocket of his jeans, and his mouth drops open in surprise when he gets a glimpse at the time.

“Oh, shit,” Namjoon murmurs, and then he raises his voice to call across the mostly empty store. “Jimin-ah! I’m so sorry!”

You turn around, your gaze landing on the barista leaned up against the counter next to the register. His dyed-gray hair dusts over his eyes, which pull into crescent moons as he laughs. “It’s cool. I knew you were almost done. But I’m gonna clock out now, if she’s good?”

“Yeah,” you answer, turning back to Namjoon. “Yeah, I can start now.”

The two of you move behind the counter, and you sweep your hair up out of your face while Namjoon starts to go through a basic run-down of where everything is located. The overhead bell tinkles as Jimin shoulders the front door open, and he lifts a hand over his head in parting.

“See you after the holidays!”

“Alright,” Namjoon says as he waves to Jimin, a little breathless from having rambled on for the better part of several minutes. “That was a lot. Do you want to just start on register? I feel like that should be easy enough, and I can train you on everything as people come in, since it’s pretty dead right now.”

You shrug. “Works for me.”

Within half an hour, there’s a line out the door, and Namjoon has managed to spill espresso grounds all over his shoes for a second time.

“Ah, shit,” he groans, taking a step back. “Sorry. Been a minute since I’ve had to be back here.”

“It’s okay,” you try to reassure him, but you can see from the faces of the customers who have been waiting on their drinks for several minutes— including one who’s had hers remade three times, all of them incorrect— that it is very much not okay. You certainly lack the people skills to smooth over any of Namjoon’s mistakes, and you can feel a stress-induced eye twitch starting to flare up, brought on by Kelly Clarkson’s incessant yuletide belting.

You give your boss five more minutes, wherein he scalds his hand on the milk steamer, forgets about a cookie in the warmer until it’s burnt entirely black, and nearly turns the blender on with the lid off, before you finally intervene.

“Hey, Namjoon?” You do your best to keep your expression pleasant when he glances over at you, wiping at his brow with the back of his hand. “Maybe we should switch?”

“A-are you sure?” he stammers, apparently torn between wanting to be a good boss and a clear desire to just take the L. “I feel bad, this is literally your first shift.”

“I think I can handle it,” you reassure him, lowering your voice a little. “Let me take care of the drinks, and you can do your… endearing golden retriever thing. Keep the people entertained.”

Color blooms in the apples of his cheeks as his dimples make a brief appearance. “Oh, okay. Can do. Just let me know if you need help.”

You can’t imagine a universe where his clumsiness could in any way be considered helpful, but you keep that thought to yourself as you smile at him. At least he’s cute.

Things improve dramatically once your roles are reversed: as you expected, Namjoon is far more charismatic than he is coordinated, and he chats endlessly with the people waiting on their drinks, hardly pausing long enough to take a breath, while you scramble around trying to get your bearings in a new environment. The steady stream of customers doesn’t let up for the rest of the evening, until the last few finally trickle out of the store a few minutes after close, and you waste no time locking the door behind them with a sigh of relief.

You spin around, letting your back thud against the door for a moment as you watch Namjoon fight with a broom and dustpan in a futile attempt to get espresso dust out of the grout between the tiles. There’s a dull ache starting to thud in your skull, and it’s only deepened by the shrill opening notes of another fucking a cappella song.

“Namjoon?” you ask as you cross toward the counter, and his head instantly snaps up. “Do you think we could maybe turn off the Christmas music?”

“Oh, sure.” He’s already fumbling to grab his phone, and he taps a few buttons until the music suddenly switches, a soft voice starting to croon over an old school beat.

“Thanks,” you say, and you can’t help the pity smile that pulls up your mouth when he returns to his useless task. “I think the grout might be a lost cause, but I can go ahead and mop whenever you’re ready.”

He rights himself with a defeated sigh, nodding his head to the storage closet in the back. You follow his lead to retrieve the mop, then set about filling up the bucket with water and cleaning solution. Namjoon’s voice floats in from the front of the shop as he busies himself with his own closing tasks.

“Imagine smokin’ weed in the street without cops harassin’ / Imagine goin’ to court with no trial / Lifestyle cruisin’ blue Bahama waters / No welfare supporters, more conscious of the way we raise our daughters...”

You’re laughing a little as you roll the bucket out, starting at the door to work your way back. “Is this… Nas?”

He glances up, like he’s just remembered other people exist in the world. “Yeah, sorry. I can turn it off.”

“No, no,” you say quickly when he starts to reach for his phone again. “This is good. Much better than Pentatonix. I’m just… you really know every word.”

Namjoon shrugs, clearly embarrassed. “He’s my favorite.”

The revelation surprises you, and you pause to think as you pull the mop back and forth over the tile floor. It didn’t even occur to you that Namjoon would have a favorite kind of music, apart from the soft elevator muzak you imagine must play on a steady loop in his brain, given the way he fumbles through life.

“I actually wanted to be a rapper,” his voice comes back, and you look up again, your interest piqued. “When I was younger. But you know. Life had other plans.”

“Ah yes, the rapper to coffee shop owner pipeline,” you muse, and he barks a laugh that you wish you didn’t find so hot. Shaking your head, you force yourself to look back down at the espresso-studded tile, doing your best to shove your attraction aside and not think about it. He’s your boss, dumbass.

Still, it’s hard to ignore, particularly as he continues to rap along to each song that comes on, his voice deeper and huskier than you’ve heard it thus far in casual conversation. He doesn’t miss a word, and you can’t deny that it’s impressive. And sexy. Fuck.

Once the floor has been successfully mopped and everything else is put back together, you hop up onto the counter to wait for the tile to dry, and your gaze lingers over Namjoon’s large hands as he cashes out the register. He flips through the bills in time to the music, still humming under his breath as he goes, and you do your best to hold in your laugh when he inevitably loses count and has to start over from the beginning. Thankfully the second attempt sticks, and he smiles proudly to himself as he zips everything up into the deposit bag.

“First shift down,” he announces, as if you might have forgotten, and then his eyes find yours and you swear your breath gets stuck in your throat. “How do you feel?”

It only occurs to you now how close he’s standing to you, and with the way your legs are casually dangling over the edge of the counter, it wouldn’t take much for him to step between them. And god, he’s so damn tall, you’re practically eye-to-eye.

“Uh,” you manage, your mouth suddenly gone dry. “Good. I feel good.”

“That’s good,” he answers, his voice dipping into that throaty tone again. You find yourself wondering absentmindedly if maybe Namjoon has a customer service voice, too, and then for the briefest flash of a moment, his gaze flits from your eyes to your lips and back again. It’s so quick, you can’t be sure it even really happened.

You tell yourself it’s just your exhausted post-shift brain seeing things that aren’t there, wanting this fine-ass man to be into you, too.

A sudden bang on the front door makes you flinch so hard, you come dangerously close to kneeing Namjoon in the crotch. He takes a large step back as you whip around to look over your shoulder, only to see a kid’s face pressed to the glass, framed by two small hands. You’ve never been great at telling the age of children on sight, but this one looks like… maybe a middle schooler?

“Whose fucking kid is that?” you say automatically, blinking, dumbfounded. Namjoon’s laugh is a low rumble behind you.

“That would be mine.”

It takes several days for the shock to wear off. Your boss has a kid. Kim “could’ve burnt the building down with a single cookie” Namjoon is at least partially responsible for keeping another human being alive. Which means you have a crush… on a father.

A father who also happens to be your boss.

You try not to think about any of it.

There’d been brief introductions when you left the shop that first night, but all you’d really managed to glean was the kid’s name, Sol, and their pronouns. As someone who is historically terrible with children, you’d excused yourself the minute Namjoon locked the front door, after what felt like an eternity spent watching him pat each of his pockets twice before he finally managed to find his keys.

“I hope it wasn’t weird,” your boss says out of nowhere in the middle of your next shift, during a much-needed moment of peace after the morning rush. “For you to meet Sol like that. It’s just been hard, since their mom, uh…”

Namjoon trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished. You glance up, eyes widening as you put the pieces together.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “I’m so sorry.”

His gaze meets yours, and it’s like you can see the wheels in his head turning before he catches up. “No, no,” he says quickly, and then he starts to laugh. “Wow, I really did not start that sentence well. She’s not dead. She just got married, and she’s on her honeymoon for most of December. The logistics have been hard, is what I meant.”

An embarrassed heat creeps up your neck, and your elbows thud against the countertop as you press your face into your hands, attempting to muffle your own laughter. “In my defense,” you groan, “you really made it sound like you had a dead wife.”

“Not dead! She’s fine!” Namjoon’s dimples are as prominent as you’ve ever seen them when you peek up at him from your full-body cringe. “Very much alive, very much not my wife.” The muscles in his arms flex as he crosses them over his chest, leaning up against the counter next to the register. “Never was, actually.”

“Really?” you answer automatically, your damned curiosity getting the better of you.

He nods, his voice a little more serious when he continues, rambling on in the way that you’ve already started to suspect is his default setting, talking as if to fill empty space. “We were seventeen when we got pregnant. I knew we were young then, but I don’t think I really realized. Now that I’m almost thirty, I know: seventeen is fucking young.”

The line of his jaw tightens, thoughtful, as his gaze sweeps over the floor. “I thought I wanted to marry her, or at least felt obligated to. Like it was the right thing to do, but. We didn’t have any money, and then it all got so hectic after Sol was born. Didn’t even take a year for us to realize it wasn’t gonna work, not for us.”

You blink, trying to take in all the new information. “That sounds really hard.”

“It was,” Namjoon admits. “But we were both on the same page about it. That no matter what, Sol had to come first.” He glances up with a shrug. “It’s all good now. She’s a great co-parent, and her new husband is really good for her. And… well, I have Indigo.”

The tinkling of the bell at the front door snaps you out of a daze, makes you realize you’ve been staring at him, dumbfounded. You do your best to shoot Namjoon a soft smile, and to ignore the pang in your chest as he turns to greet the customer that’s just wandered in, already starting to babble on about the weather.

You find yourself more grateful for Namjoon’s presence with each passing shift, in a way that you try to convince yourself is thoroughly platonic. Between fairly steady work and his very steady chatter, your time spent in the warm, sunny space of Indigo turns out to be a good distraction from your own miserable excuse for a life. The repetitive motions of making drink after drink are oddly comforting, and you have to admit, Namjoon really is good with the customers.

“Peppermint mocha to go.”

You do your best to follow up the sentence with a polite smile as you set a drink down for the customer who has done nothing but scowl at you the whole time you were making it. The silent prayer you’ve sent out to the universe that he’ll take whatever personal problem he has elsewhere and leave you alone has clearly gone unanswered.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snaps, and you can feel your shoulders creep up towards your ears in anticipation of nothing good. Here we fucking go.

You blink twice, trying to keep your service persona engaged. “I’m sorry, is that not what you ordered?” It is, you know it is, you heard him say it.

“No, that’s mine,” the man quickly responds, reaching out to snatch the cup in a motion that makes you flinch. “But do you hear this fucking song?”

The honest answer is no: at this point the ever-present Christmas music might as well be white noise, so you have to make a conscious effort to tune back in and listen. It’s a few seconds, and then you pick up on the melody. “…Last Christmas?”

“Uh, yeah,” he continues, explaining like you’re stupid. “The original. Last Christmas by Wham!” When it’s clear you still aren’t putting the pieces together, he scoffs in pure frustration. “You just made me lose Whamageddon! I’ve won every year for the last five years, I can’t believe you would even put this on your fucking playlist!”

Your face pulls into an incredulous grimace before you can think to control it. “Uh, I’m sorry, but I didn’t make the—”

He cuts you off. “First off, I don’t need the fucking attitude. And surely you’re at least capable of checking what songs are on there, right? That’s not too advanced for you to handle?”

You didn’t even hear Namjoon walk up from the back office, but he’s suddenly stepping in front of you, and you’re more than glad to move back and let him handle this dude before you end up in jail. “Woah, woah, alright,” Namjoon interjects, his voice loud enough to carry. “What’s going on?”

The man beats you to it. “I’m trying to file a legitimate complaint and she’s rolling her fucking eyes and getting an attitude with me!”

“It’s the song,” you explain briefly, trying to keep everything about your expression neutral. “He’s mad that we’re… playing Wham.”

Namjoon’s face twists in an expression that you would find funny if you weren’t so fucking livid, one that you’re pretty sure is the mirror image of your own reaction minutes earlier. “The song? Seriously?”

You can see the guy scrambling, clearly starting to get embarrassed at his own dramatics. “Alright, I don’t have time for this. I guess I just need to take my business elsewhere, because this is ridiculous. What ever happened to the customer is always right?”

Namjoon goes silent for a minute, and you try to ignore the way the look on his face makes your pulse quicken, thudding brightly in the hollow of your neck. His voice is deadly serious when he speaks again. “I appreciate that you’re upset, but if you’re going to look my employee in the face, after she just performed a service for you, and disrespect her like that? Over a fucking song? Nah, I’m not gonna tolerate it. Maybe the next time you want someone to make you a toothpaste drink, you should take your ass to Starbucks.”

It takes every ounce of strength you have to keep the reaction off your face until the asshole has stormed out the front door, nasty drink in hand. As the bell finally tinkles to signal his departure, you collapse forward, just barely catching yourself on the counter so you don’t crumple straight down to the floor.

“Oh my god.” Your laugh of disbelief comes out more like a groan, at the ridiculous complaint and your boss’ insanely attractive comeback alike. “I fucking hate this time of year.”

“Hey.” The word is punctuated by Namjoon’s shoulder bumping into yours, and you look back up at him, still laughing a little at your own misery. His eyes search yours, sincere. “Assholes are assholes no matter what season it is. I’m sure that guy finds plenty of things to complain about the other eleven months of the year, too. Don’t let him ruin it for you.”

You can’t help rolling your eyes, if only because you can do it freely now, without a man standing over you and yelling about your ‘bad attitude’. “I guess,” you huff. “And thank you.”

Namjoon shakes his head, like it’s nothing. “Chin up, okay?”

The two of you breeze through closing that night, familiar enough to fall into a steady routine now. You’re wiping everything down behind the counter and humming along to Tupac when Namjoon’s voice drags you back out of your thoughts in a way you’ve already grown accustomed to.

“You know…”

You glance up, only to realize that he’s started to flip chairs on top of tables to clear the floor, and is grabbing them two at a time, one in each hand. The image makes you a little dizzy, and you tell yourself to focus on his words, not his biceps.

“I think we make a pretty good team,” he concludes.

“Yeah,” you breathe, trying to keep your composure at the unexpected compliment. “I was thinking the same thing. And thanks again for, you know. Handling that guy.”

Namjoon shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Hey, you’re doing me a favor, taking this seasonal job. I’m not about to let anyone fuck with you.”

You bite down on a smile as you head towards the back to grab the mop, and then you hear a loud bang on the front door— it’s another sound you’ve gotten used to in your brief time at Indigo. There’s the click of the deadbolt, chased by the tinkling overhead bell and Namjoon’s chiding voice. “Homie, if you break my door I’m gonna make you get a job to pay me back for it.”

“You think I don’t know about child labor laws?” you hear Sol retort, clearly not intimidated, and the attitude in their voice has you biting back a laugh.

Wheeling the mop bucket out of the storage closet, you glance up to see Namjoon jut his chin toward the large front window, indicating Sol to take a seat on the ledge. “Feet off the floor, she’s tryna clean.”

Sol complies, plopping down in the window with their eyes glued to their phone as Namjoon disappears back toward the office to grab his things. You watch as Sol pulls their knees into their chest so their chunky black boots clear the tile, and you can’t help noticing that said boots are adorned with oversized silver bat-shaped buckles, reflecting the amber streetlight gleam that leaks through the window.

“I like your boots,” you say, more to yourself than Sol, half expecting them to be so engrossed in TikTok that they don’t even hear you.

But to your surprise, Sol looks up.

“Thanks,” they say, glancing at their feet. “I just got them. I’m in my post-hardcore era right now.”

The statement is delivered without a trace of irony, and you do your best to hold in another amused giggle as you respond. “Wow, you are… so much cooler than I was when I was your age.”

Sol seems to consider this for a moment, then shrugs. “I mean, you didn’t have the internet back then, right?”

The question hits you like a train, and you have to pause and press a hand over your heart at the impact. “Okay, ouch, I’m not that old.” They grimace apologetically, and you lean up against the mop handle in thought. “But the internet definitely wasn’t like it is now. The only social media that really existed was Myspace, and my parents wouldn’t let me make one. I mostly just used the internet to, like, play RuneScape.”

“Oh shit,” Sol remarks, sounding remarkably like Namjoon in the process. “You played old school?!”

It’s like you can feel your bones crumbling to dust inside your body, and you wince as you resume dragging the mop over the tile. “Hey, back then it was the only kind of RuneScape we had. But yes, you can consider me a… founding father of that game.”

“That’s cool!” they exclaim, sounding so genuine it makes your head spin. When did RuneScape become cool again? “My friends and I play old school all the time. It’s the best, for real.”

You shake your head in disbelief as you continue to mop, and a long pause settles between you, with Sol’s interest clearly returning to their phone.

Fuck, you think to yourself, what else do kids even talk about? Marvel movies? It’s like your mind has gone totally blank, unable to conjure up a single topic of conversation, and you practically huff out an audible sigh of relief when their voice breaks the silence again.

“I think my dad has been happier since you started working here.”

The mop nearly slips out of your hands entirely, and you glance up, eyes wide. “I— really?”

Sol nods, playing absentmindedly with the strings of their black hoodie, then bringing the end of one up to their mouth to gently chew on. “It’s a theory I have. A game theory. I plan to ask additional follow-up questions tonight.”

At this, you can’t help but laugh. “Well, I’m sure your investigation will be very thorough.”

There’s a flash of a dimple in Sol’s cheek, like the mirror image of their dad. “I can tell you what he says, if you want.”

You wonder how telling your own smile is. “I mean… I can’t say I’m not curious.” You’re distantly aware of the sound of the office door closing, chased by Joon whistling to himself, and you lower your voice conspiratorially as you drop the mop back into the bucket. “I look forward to hearing what you find out.”

Monday morning, when you wake up to the omnipresent smize of Nick Jonas, you can’t help smiling back.

You made it through your first week of work, and it wasn’t even that torturous. And best of all, Namjoon reminded you the night before that Indigo is closed on Mondays, which gives you an entire day to spend as you please. A real day off, which was truly unheard of at your last job, where you’d spend your non-scheduled days still anticipating an incoming emergency text asking you to cover a shift last-minute. More often than not, you’d end up working after all.

“But not today,” you announce to Nick.

A grand plan has already started to form in your head, one that involves a party size bag of Hot Cheetos and all eight episodes of The Fabulous, and yet. There’s a lingering urge at the back of your brain that you can’t quite ignore. With all the day-off energy you can muster, you drag yourself out of bed and tug on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, then shuffle into the bathroom to at least make yourself halfway decent.

You’re just going for a quick walk around the block to get some fresh air, you tell yourself. That’s all. Certainly no other reason.

It’s only a few minutes after you step out your front door that a fluffy white blur nearly collides with your shins, and when you stoop down to lift Moni into your arms, you once again can’t keep the smile off your face. Huh, who could’ve seen this coming?

But when you glance up, there’s no hot buff man jogging up the sidewalk after his dog. In fact, you realize as you look back at the ball of fluff in your arms, he isn’t wearing a leash or harness at all, just another cute sweater.

“Are you even supposed to be out here?” you ask Moni. His only answer is to drag his tongue up the side of your face.

You shift him a little in your arms so you can fumble for the tag attached to his collar, and thankfully, there’s an address listed. It takes you a second to get your bearings in the neighborhood, having not lived here for close to a decade, but it eventually comes back to you where the listed street is, and you start to walk. Moni is already blinking sleepily in your arms, clearly enjoying his preferred mode of transportation.

A laugh bubbles up in your chest as you approach the house in question— even if you hadn’t had Moni’s tag to guide you, finding his home would’ve been easy enough as soon as you passed this street, because you can hear old school hip-hop bumping through a speaker despite still being several houses down the block. You suppose Namjoon can get away with it during the day, when all the neighborhood kids are still in school.

As you make your way up the driveway, you realize the music is actually coming from behind the house, and when you follow the path that leads around back, you spot the culprit: a simple wooden-slat fence surrounds the yard, and the gate has been left wide open.

Before you can even make it over the threshold, a familiar voice reaches your ears, sounding much closer than the music. “Ah, shit.”

Namjoon comes barreling through the open gate so fast he practically runs you over, and Moni yaps, like he’s annoyed at being jostled as you quickly try to stumble out of his owner’s path.

“Oh. Uh, hi.”

You wonder if you’ll ever be able to take in how shock looks on Namjoon’s features without giggling a little. Today is certainly not that day. It’s just so endearing, the way his eyes widen and his mouth pulls into a perfect o-shape.

“Hi,” you breathe out around your laughter, trying to ignore the heat that flushes into your face when his dimples appear in return. “I think I found something that belongs to you.”

With a wave of his hand and several profuse thank yous, you follow Namjoon back through the gate, and wait until he firmly shuts it behind you before letting Moni down to trot off across the yard. It’s only now that you take Namjoon in properly: he’s in a gray hoodie under a pair of denim overalls, both of which are splattered artfully with paint in a variety of colors.

“I was just in my studio,” he explains, tipping his head toward the small shed in the yard, which you quickly realize is also the source of the music that led you here. “Doin’ some art. Do you, uh… wanna see?”

“Yeah, okay,” you answer with a nod.

“Fair warning, I’m really bad at it,” he calls over his shoulder as he leads you in the open studio door, raising his voice to be heard over the music. He reaches for his phone, propped up in the windowsill, to turn the volume down a few notches.

There’s an easel up against the far wall holding what must be his current project, a half-finished scene that you realize upon closer inspection is thousands of tiny dots of color, painstakingly blotted onto the canvas to form a mountain landscape at a distance. A few more pieces that he’s already completed have been leaned up against another wall to dry, one featuring an abstract array of featherlight brushstrokes, and another where the paint’s been globbed on in thick layers.

Namjoon is talking a mile a minute as you inspect the canvases. “I thought maybe I’d do cyanotypes today, but it’s not sunny enough, and I’ve made that mistake before. I’m really into texture right now, so I’m trying out some different techniques with paint. I want to get better at pointillism, but it’s a lot harder than you’d think it would be. ‘Cause it’s just dots, right? But you have to be able to see the forest for the trees, too.”

“These are amazing,” you finally manage to murmur, and to your surprise, the compliment actually renders him silent. When you turn back over your shoulder to look at him, he’s glancing down, almost like he’s embarrassed.

“Thanks. But I just do it for fun. ‘Cause I love art.”

“I can tell,” you say, and when he looks up, you offer him a smile you hope reads as encouraging. “Did you make the art at work, too?”

He nods, still sheepish, and that answer also surprises you. You recall thinking on your first day that the paintings hung on the walls looked handmade, but it never crossed your mind that they might have been made by Namjoon’s hands. Maybe because you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing him drop and break things, you haven’t ever considered him as also capable of… creation.

And yet, here he is. Proving you wrong.

“Sorry,” Namjoon’s voice makes you refocus on him, and your brow furrows in confusion at the unexpected apology. “This is literally your one day away from me and here I am, taking up your time. Thanks again for bringing Moni back.”

“It’s okay.” You shrug. “Don’t have much going on today, honestly. I never really know what to do with myself when I’m not working. Which I’m aware is very sad.”

“Well, uh,” Namjoon starts, and when he takes a single step closer, you swear you feel something flutter in your stomach— or maybe lower. “Sol’s got a half-day today, since it’s the last day before break, so I’m picking them up in a bit. And we were gonna go on a hike, probably take Moni too. You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?”

Your eyes widen at the invitation. “Oh. That sounds great. I mean, if you’re sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”

He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth pulling up just so. “Nah. I actually think Sol really likes you. At least, they wouldn’t stop asking questions about you at dinner last night.”

“Is that right?” You do your best to keep your expression neutral.

Namjoon drives far enough north that there’s actually snow on the ground when you climb out of his front seat. You shove your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you follow him across the gravel parking lot towards the trailhead, a few paces behind Sol and Moni.

Sol shoots an expression of pure mischief at you over their shoulder, and then immediately starts to sprint up the marked path through the woods, Moni easily keeping up.

“Bye, nerds!” you hear them call before they disappear between the trees.

“Stay on the trail!” Namjoon shouts back, sounding as dad-like as you’ve ever heard him, and you can’t help but laugh. The two of you quicken your steps slightly to not fall too far behind, tracking the set of boot and paw-prints they’ve left to mark their trail.

For a moment, it’s silent between you, save the crunching of snow underfoot. It’s nice, being out in nature like this, time spent with Namjoon where you aren’t suffering through Christmas music and ungrateful customers. Where you can just… breathe. It makes you feel a little less sorry for yourself, a little less fixated on your own miserable life.

You glance over at him as that strange seasonal melancholy starts to settle into your bones again. “Are the holidays… better? With a kid?”

Namjoon makes a face, like he’s surprised by the question. “I mean, they’re definitely different. Then again, it’s been a long time since I did the holidays without a kid— not since I was a kid myself. What do you mean by better?”

Self-consciousness washes over you, your gaze drifting down to the path beneath your feet. “I don’t know, there’s just… I can’t shake this weird feeling now that I’m back home. This time of year used to be so exciting for me when I was Sol’s age. Everything felt special. Magical. But now I’m back here, and nothing’s really changed, except me. But I just keep feeling like the magic is gone. It’s… sad.”

He nods, taking a moment before he responds, and he’s chuckling softly to himself when he finally does. “You know, it’s kinda funny. When Sol was younger I actually felt a lot of stress this time of year. I couldn’t really enjoy it, because I was too busy trying to make sure that they had the best holiday I could possibly give them. That they didn’t feel like they were getting any less, since, you know. Their mom and I aren’t together. It’s funny that you bring up the magic, because I put a lot of pressure on myself to make that magic happen. But now that they’re a little older, I don’t know, it’s different.”

“Different how?” you prompt.

A dimple deepens as he hesitates. “It’s gonna sound corny. But really, I realized that the holidays aren’t about the gifts, or the decorations, or every little thing going perfect. You can make yourself sick over that shit, and I did, but kids don’t really care about it.” He pauses, and for a second you think that might be it, but then he keeps going, eyes fixed on the towering pine trees ahead of you.

“The year I opened Indigo, I had sank so much fucking money into it that I was broke. Broke broke. I couldn’t afford a single gift, a tree, not even a turkey. Sol and I sat on the floor of my shitty apartment and ate Chapagetti and watched Friends. And I felt like the biggest fucking failure imaginable. And then you know what happened?”

“What?”

“Sol turned to me, and they said, ‘This is the best Christmas ever, because we get to hang out, just the two of us.’” He blinks a few times, like he’s trying to ward off tears, and his voice comes back slightly less steady than before. “I still don’t know if they said that because they really meant it, or if they could just tell that I needed to hear it. But either way, I thought to myself: how fucking lucky am I, to have such a great kid? Like what did I ever do to deserve them? I still feel that way.”

Namjoon shrugs, as if to shake off the emotion. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s not helpful to you, but. I just see it differently now. It’s not about the what, or the how. It’s about the who. Spending this time of year with the people you care about, and making sure they know you do. That’s the real magic.”

You realize the trail has carried you up the sloping hillside, and is now flattening out at the edge of a clearing, where you can see Moni chasing Sol through the snow, can hear their high-pitched laughter ringing out in the wide-open air.

When you turn back to Namjoon, he’s already looking at you.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel the magic right now. I didn’t either, for a long time. But it does come back, I believe that. It’ll come back for you, too.”

You blink up at him, overwhelmed by his willingness to be so honest, and by the wisdom of his words. “I— thank you,” you finally manage to say.

Namjoon doesn’t answer, just glances up to where Sol and Moni are still playing, and your gaze follows his out over the snow-covered field. Sol is dusting off a sizable stick, and they call out for Moni to fetch before launching it into a dramatic arc, high up in the air.

Moni watches it go, entirely disinterested, then settles onto his haunches in the snow with a yawn.

“You’re so bad at being a dog!” Sol shouts, and that’s enough to make you and Namjoon both dissolve into laughter. They look up at the sound, hands-on-hips, before yelling again, this time in your direction. “My dad said he has a crush on you!”

Your jaw drops open, and Namjoon’s eyes are wide as you’ve ever seen them when you look up at him.

“Damn, dude, you said you were gonna be chill about it!” he exclaims, and you press a hand to your mouth as a fresh wave of giggles overtakes you. Given how long Namjoon’s legs are, it only takes him a few strides to catch up to Sol. You stay a tentative distance behind him, but still close enough to be able to make out their conversation.

“Uncle Hobi says you need to be bolder with women,” Sol chides, matter-of-fact.

“Uncle Hobi says a lot of shit,” Namjoon mutters under his breath.

“He painted my nails,” Sol raises their voice, clearly talking more to you than to their dad, and holds up a hand for you to see, waggling their fingers proudly.

“They look great,” you call out in response.

Namjoon turns back to you as you step in closer, then juts his chin to a bench at the other side of the clearing. “Sit with me for a sec?”

With a nod, you follow him over, and he wipes the metal surface free of snow with his sleeve before gesturing for you to have a seat. For a moment, the two of you sit silently and watch Sol, who is already busying themself with building a snowperson while Moni slow-blinks encouragingly from a distance.

Namjoon’s words chase a heavy sigh. “I’m gonna be real with you, despite the fact that my child just stole my thunder. I like you a lot.”

Your heart swells in your chest, threatening to burst. “I-I like you too,” you stammer back immediately. “Have definitely been harboring my own crush… basically since I started working at Indigo.”

When you turn to look at him, it surprises you a little that he isn’t smiling. You can see a muscle working in his jaw, like he’s nervous.

“That’s the thing,” he finally relents. “Work. I don’t— I hadn’t really planned to tell you how I was feeling, or act on it. Because I’m your boss, and that means, you know. There’s a power dynamic there. And it would be… unethical of me to blur the lines like that, by getting involved with my employee. I wanted you to come out with us today because it was a chance for you and I to be equals, outside of work, but it’s not like that dynamic just goes away, you know? And I feel a little guilty about it now. Because I really like being around you so much, but I just. We can’t. It wouldn’t be right. Not while you’re working for me.”

You stare down at the snow under your boots as you take in his words, and you can’t help it. Try as you might to sit there and take his worries seriously, laughter flutters out of you before you can hold it in.

“What?” Namjoon asks, and you shake your head, trying to compose yourself.

“I really, really appreciate that you gave it so much thought,” you say, willing your voice to stay even. “I mean it.”

“It’s weighed really heavy on me, if I’m honest,” he says solemnly, and you glance over to see him staring into the middle distance, like he’s deep in contemplation.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching out to where his hand rests on the bench between you and covering it with your own.

“Namjoon?” you ask softly, and it seems to snap him out of his trance enough to look back at you.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” you preface. “But if I have to choose between you and my stupid seasonal coffee shop job?” The smile starts to flicker over your face again. “Then I quit. I quit right now.”

“Oh thank god,” Namjoon breathes, and you can only make a soft noise of surprise when all at once, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. You need a split second for the shock to wear off, and then you’re moving your mouth against his, one hand fisting tight in the fabric of his jacket. His lips are full and warm, and it feels like far too soon that he’s pulling back again, his cheeks flushed with color.

“Will you, uh—” he pauses, like he’s remembering how to form a sentence. “Will you still work tomorrow though? Jimin’s back after Christmas, but I really don’t think I can survive a shift on my own.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, still a little breathless from his kiss. “Yeah, I think you’d burn the place down.”

Unable to deny the claim, he laughs brightly as you untangle from each other, then gets to his feet before offering a hand to help you up. “We should head out, it’s gonna get dark soon.”

It’s true: across the wide clearing you can already see the sun threatening to sink back down between the trees, casting a golden-pink light that gleams off the snow and paints the world in warmth.

Sol leads the way back through the woods to the car, tugging Moni along by their leash, while you and Namjoon bring up the rear. You glance over at him a few times to catch him staring, and you scrape your teeth across your bottom lip, unable to keep the smile off your face, unable to stop yourself from mentally replaying the moment when he kissed you, over and over.

Just as you step under the shadow of a large tree, snow-covered branches stretching up toward the clear sky above you, Namjoon stops in the path. It’s so abrupt that you continue a few more paces before you even realize, and then you stop, too, glancing back towards him.

“Hey Sol,” Namjoon calls. “Think you and Moni can make it all the way back to the car in ten seconds?”

“I know what you’re doing,” comes Sol’s cheeky reply, but when Namjoon starts counting backwards from ten, you can hear the crunch of their boots taking off down the path.

“Eight, seven, six…” You watch as Namjoon cranes his neck until he deems Sol far enough out of sight, taking a step toward you as his counting trails off, and you find yourself pulled into him like a magnet. “Come here,” he murmurs, and then his hands are slipping up your waist and guiding you backwards until your back hits the trunk of the tree.

In true Namjoon fashion, he uses way more strength than is necessary for the task, and though your winter jacket cushions you from the impact, you’re smacked against the bark so hard that it knocks a dusting of snow off the branches above you, covering you both in flakes that stick to your hair and eyelashes. The sudden rush of cold makes you gasp into Namjoon’s mouth, but then he’s rolling his tongue over yours and you can’t think about anything else. A heavy pulse has started to thud between your legs at the heat of his breath in your mouth, the way his hips have you pinned to the tree, his body big enough to cover yours entirely.

“Joon,” you find the air to breathe as his lips trail hungrily down the slope of your neck. You rake a hand through his hair, white-blonde strands studded with snow, to try and pull his attention back, despite very much not wanting him to stop. “Joon, we should go. Before someone steals your kid.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs against your skin, and then his mouth is on yours again for one more kiss, like he can’t get enough. “Okay,” he finally grunts as he pulls away, sounding as begrudgingly responsible as you feel. Your head is still spinning; you want nothing more than to stay here and let him kiss you dizzy.

“Let’s go.”

He takes a step back so you can right yourself, reaching out to dust some snow off your jacket, and then the two of you resume walking up the path, sharing a breathless laugh like confidantes. You assume it’s just his standard clumsiness when Namjoon’s hand knocks into yours, but then his fingers are twining through yours purposefully, until you’re pressed palm to palm.

The rush of heat that blooms in your chest at his touch keeps you warm the rest of the way to the car.

Your last shift at Indigo somehow manages to feel exactly like every shift that’s come before it and completely new at the same time.

The work is the same, the steady stream of customers unchanged, the Christmas music still an aggravating soundtrack. But you no longer feel like you have to ignore the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when Namjoon asks you a question, or meets your gaze across the shop.

The only urges you have to suppress are indecent ones, made worse by Namjoon seemingly taking advantage of every opportunity to touch you: hip-checking you when you’re both standing at the front counter, pressing a hand to the small of your back whenever he has to squeeze behind you, leaning in a little closer than necessary to be heard over the noise of the milk steamer. It’s enough to make your breath hitch each time, and you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same relief at not having to hold back anymore.

Towards the end of the night, it surprises you when the typically consistent flow of customers starts to slow down, until it seems to have ceased entirely. You still have two hours to go, but you find yourself staring at the walls, every table empty, having done all the side work you can think of to distract yourself from boredom.

The sound of the front door’s lock clicking shut makes you glance up, only to see Namjoon flipping the open sign over.

“What are you doing?” you ask, blinking dumbfounded, and he looks over his shoulder at you with a shrug.

“It’s Christmas Eve Eve, and I’m the owner, so. We’re closing early. Effective immediately.” The decree makes you laugh a little, and his dimples wink back. “Let’s finish cleaning, I wanna show you something.”

In record time, you find yourself standing outside the front door of Indigo as Namjoon locks up, only tonight your hands are kept warm by the hot chocolates he’d made for the two of you as you closed. He takes his cup back once his hands are free, and you try a tentative sip from yours, now cool enough to drink without burning your mouth. Given what you witnessed of his barista abilities on your first day, you brace yourself for the worst, but your eyes widen in pleasant surprise when the liquid hits your tongue.

“Being a dad means getting really good at a few specific things,” he says by way of explanation as he unlocks his car doors, and you smile as you slip into the passenger seat.

It occurs to you as Namjoon starts to drive that you don’t actually know where he’s taking you, but when you open your mouth to ask at the next red light, he leans over you to fumble open the glovebox and you lose your train of thought. He fishes inside for a few seconds before retrieving a CD case, then makes quick work of prying it open and sliding the disc into the slot on the dash. You attempt to hide your giggle behind the rim of your cup.

“No wonder you like ‘90s music so much. You’re still living there,” you say, nodding to his antiquated stereo, and he smirks as he turns up the volume.

“This is A Tribe Called Quest,” he remarks, quirking an eyebrow when he looks back at you. “You better show some respect.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease in response, and you don’t miss the color that flushes his cheeks.

The light turns green and he accelerates through the intersection, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching across the center console to grip playfully at your leg, a few inches above your knee. You can see his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, like he’s considering saying something, but when he finally opens his mouth, it’s just to rap along to the music.

It’s only a few songs later that he’s turning off the main road and following a barely-lit gravel path up to a large grassy parking lot, where he pulls into a space and kills the engine. You squint through the windshield, tucking your now-empty drink into the cupholder, but you can’t make out much except dusk and some vague lights over a hill in the distance.

“Was this crush thing just a ploy to murder me?” you quip, and Namjoon looks a little nervous when you glance over, like he took the question to heart. “I’m kidding,” you clarify quickly.

His voice comes out surprisingly soft. “This is one of my favorite things to do during the holidays. Thought it might help with, you know. The magic.”

Something cracks open inside you as you look back at him. “That’s… really sweet.”

“Ah,” he says, as if to dismiss the compliment. “You haven’t seen it yet. Maybe you’ll hate it. Come on.”

The two of you climb out of his car to start your trek to whatever he has in store, heading in the direction of the lights, and Namjoon’s hand slips into yours, like it’s already second nature. Easy and sweet. You grip tight to him, the night air colder now than it was when you left work, but then you finally crest over the hill, and the temperature is suddenly the furthest thing from your mind.

It takes you a moment to even understand what you’re looking at. The place is clearly some kind of arboretum, as the path ahead of you snakes through a perfectly manicured garden of various plants, but the only thing you can focus on are the lights. Every tree, bush, shrub, and other kind of greenery that lines the walkway has been intricately strung up with lights, each one boasting a different hue. The end result is nothing short of dazzling— a veritable rainbow of light and life and color, glittering diamond-bright against the deep-set night around you.

“Namjoon,” you breathe. “This is beautiful.”

There’s a dimple flickering at the corner of his mouth when you look up at him. “Thought you might like it.”

“I can’t believe I never knew this was here,” you remark, your eyes wide and blinking as you try to take it all in.

“Hey,” he answers with a shrug. “Maybe your hometown still has a few good surprises left in it.” You exhale a laugh as you lean into his side and he squeezes your joined hands; you can’t help feeling like you’ve already found the greatest surprise of them all.

After an hour spent wandering through the displays, each one more breathtaking than the last, Namjoon diverts you toward a small food stand. He comes away from the counter with a paper carton filled to the brim with long ropes of twisted, fried dough, warm enough to release steam into the air when you tear one apart to share, and dusted with cinnamon sugar that sticks to your fingertips.

The two of you take a few steps back down the path until you’re under an archway of glowing golden lights, then eventually come to a standstill, too hungry to do anything except devour your food.

Namjoon speaks first, mid-chew. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What’s up?” you answer as you reach for another piece.

He swallows, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth before he continues. “At your interview, you said your life fell apart. What happened?”

“Oh.” You smirk as you rip the braided dough in two, then in two again, before popping it into your mouth. “It seems a little silly now, but. I got fired from that last job, like I told you. And the same day, my roommate pretty much kicked me out of the apartment, because he wanted his boyfriend to move in. He was also my best friend, so. It stung a little. A lot. Moving back in with your parents at this age is humbling, to say the least. Feels a lot like starting over.”

Namjoon hums, like he understands. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Eh,” you respond noncommittally. “I should probably be happy for him. The timing just… wasn’t amazing.”

“You know,” he murmurs, thoughtful. “I thought my life was over when my ex and I got pregnant. Not even eighteen and about to be a dad. I really felt like… I don’t know, like that was it for me.” You nod slowly, unable to even fathom what that must’ve been like.

“But, here I am. Still alive.” Namjoon flashes you a grin, and you find yourself smiling back. “Still figuring it out. I actually feel like I’ve learned a lot from watching Sol grow up. They’re like—” He shakes his head, as if at a momentary loss for words. “They’re like a different person every month, I swear. What they’re into, how they dress. Who they wanna be. It makes me feel, I don’t know. Like it’s okay. Like I can change too.” He shrugs. “That’s the thing about life. It’s long. And even when you feel like it’s ended… it keeps going anyway.”

His words wash over you, and you’re so in awe that you can’t help but laugh.

“Ah, sorry.” He grimaces, suddenly self-conscious. “I know that was corny.”

“No, no,” you interject, trying to keep your composure. “I just think you are like, literally the wisest person I’ve ever met.”

The lights glimmering overhead aren’t enough to hide the way Namjoon blushes at the compliment, and then he pauses, as if recalling something. “Didn’t I nearly run the blender with the lid off on your first day?”

You double-over at the memory, and he’s laughing now, too. “Okay, okay. Fair point.”

The thought keeps circling around in your brain as you dust cinnamon sugar from each other’s jackets and continue your way around the rest of the gardens, occasionally pausing to trade sticky-sweet kisses in the twinkling glow: you don’t want the night to end. You keep glancing over at Namjoon, wondering if he’s feeling the same way as he drives you back into town, the heat in his car on full blast, the CD player still underscoring your conversation.

“So, what do your Christmas plans look like?” he asks, eyes flitting briefly from the road to meet your gaze.

You fiddle with a button on your coat, wishing you had a less depressing answer. “I was just gonna spend it by myself. My parents already had a vacation in Hawaii planned, so I’m gonna do what I always do: hole up with booze and snacks and wait for it all to be over.”

He chuckles, tapping his fingertips absentmindedly against the steering wheel. “Well, I have about a hundred presents to wrap tomorrow night while Sol’s at their mom’s. Why don’t you come over and help? I can even provide the booze.” There’s a pause, and his voice comes back softer before you can respond. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

The corner of your mouth tugs up at his sincerity, the way he gently cares for you, has since day one. “Yeah, okay. I mean, you had me at free alcohol.”

Just like that, Namjoon is already turning back into the Indigo parking lot, where your car sits waiting for you. The two of you shrug off your seatbelts once he’s pulled into a space and parked, and he reaches to turn down the music before shifting in his seat to get a better look at you.

“So,” he starts, clearing his throat a little. “You are officially no longer my employee.”

“And you are no longer my boss,” you answer back, and a thrill buzzes in your chest at the statement.

“Which means,” he continues, doing his best to lean over the center console, “I can do this.” He barely finishes getting the words out before his mouth is on yours, your eyes fluttering closed, his kisses far less chaste than the ones you shared earlier. They’re open-mouthed and urgent this time, with Namjoon slipping his tongue into the heat of your mouth like he’s been waiting all night for it.

“Uh-huh,” you murmur between kisses, and then he dips his head lower, until his lips find the join of your neck and shoulder.

“And this,” he purrs before kissing you just as hungrily there, tongue-first. You can’t hold back the soft noise his mouth pulls out of you.

“Fuck,” you breathe as he sucks gently over the same spot, with just enough pressure to make you writhe in your seat. A shiver rolls up your spine when he hums against your skin, clearly pleased at your reaction.

“And, uh…” You slowly blink your eyes open when you feel the warmth of his breath dissipate, and he’s looking at you with his brow furrowed, as if attempting some difficult mental math. “Actually—” He reaches down for the lever to adjust his seat, and it drops all the way back with a graceless thud that makes a laugh flutter out of you. “Maybe you could take your jacket off and come over here?”

You don’t need him to ask you twice, and you’re moving quickly as you peel out of the thick material and scramble across the console to straddle him. You both groan a little when you duck down to press your mouth to his again, all of this suddenly feeling much more real now that you’re basically horizontal. His hands alight on your hips, tentative, like he isn’t quite sure what to do with them, and you smile against his lips.

“Touch me, Joon,” you instruct, and he does as he’s told.

His hands are warm as he slips them beneath the hem of your shirt, trailing over your skin until he reaches the band of your bra. When you hum encouragingly into his mouth, he keeps going, pushing the fabric up your chest so your tits spill free from their confinement. He cups one in each hand, and though you might’ve expected him to be clumsy or rough, given everything you’ve seen of him thus far, you’re surprised to instead find that he’s gentle, thumbs circling your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to tighten them into stiff peaks.

Unable to bite back your whimper at the heat that blossoms through you at his touch, at how much more of him you need, you pull away just enough to break your kiss, glancing up through the back window of his car to confirm the parking lot is still empty.

Namjoon groans low in his throat when you reach down to tug up the hem of your shirt, shifting a little on top of him to give him better access. He doesn’t hesitate, thumb still working at one nipple while he takes the other into his mouth, and your sigh of relief comes edged with a soft moan when he swirls his tongue over the bud of your breast.

“Shit,” you gasp. “Feels so fucking good.”

He pulls off with a wet pop to switch sides, and the slick heat of his mouth sends bolt after bolt of arousal through you until there’s a dull ache of need thudding between your legs. As you roll your hips in desperate search of friction, you can feel him beneath you, straining hard against the fabric of his jeans.

Namjoon pulls his mouth off your breast, letting out a hoarse laugh when you shift to drop your forehead against his collarbone with a groan, horny enough to practically be delirious. “I hate that I’m even saying this,” he rasps, “but I really can’t have sex in a car. I’m too—”

“Big?” you offer, and there’s a smile on his lips as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“I was going to say old.”

You can’t help giggling as you lean up to find his mouth with yours again. Namjoon kisses you a little while longer, lazily, his hands still kneading gently at your tits, until he finally tips his head back, heaving a sigh up to the roof of his car. “Okay, okay. You should go.” His tone is reluctant, like it’s the last thing he wants. “It’s late. And my jeans fucking hurt.”

There’s a self-satisfied smirk toying at your mouth as you sit up, tugging your bra and shirt back into place and not missing the bulge in Namjoon’s pants where your hips meet his. “I will take the blame for that one.”

He folds his hands behind his head, biceps and dimples on full display. “Damn straight.”

You lean down for one more kiss, letting it linger before you make your way back over the center console to retrieve your jacket. “Have a good night, Joon,” you murmur as you reach for the door handle, and when you glance back, his eyes are fixed on you, still heavy-lidded with lust.

“Get home safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I have booze, as promised.” Namjoon’s voice echoes in from the kitchen as you kick off your boots and hang your coat up at his front door come Christmas Eve. The aroma hits your nose as your socked feet pad down the hall to follow him: the spice of cinnamon and clove, paired with a hint of citrus. It smells like the holidays, like home.

“Mulled wine?” you wager a guess, and he nods, turning away from the stove to retrieve two mugs from a cabinet.

“I halved the recipe, since it’s just us,” he explains, mouth pulling down at the corners as he starts to ladle out servings from the pot full of deep red liquid. “Still made a lot, though.”

Your eyes drift across the kitchen until they land on the two empty bottles of red sitting next to the sink, and that makes you pause for a moment to consider. “So the original recipe called for four bottles?”

Namjoon’s brow is furrowed when he glances up, and then he follows your gaze, and a look of delayed understanding washes over him. “Oh, fuck.”

Your elbows dig into the kitchen island as you press your hands to your mouth, as if to physically hold in your laughter. “Did you… halve everything in the recipe except the wine?”

His eyes drop closed as he nods, his answer a resigned sigh. “Yeah. Yes, I did.”

You can’t help yourself: all at once, you’re circling around to join Namjoon behind the stove, so you can take his face in your hands and pull his mouth down to yours. He makes a soft noise of surprise, but then his lips fall into rhythm, kissing you hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs. Even through the fabric of your shirt, his large hands are warm when they slide over the small of your back, and then they keep going, until you finally break the kiss with another laugh when he reaches his final target and outright grabs your ass.

“Not the reaction I anticipated,” Namjoon admits, paired with a teasing squeeze. “But I’ll take it.”

You look up at him through your lashes, pressing your palms flat to the firm plane of his chest. “A very wise friend of mine once told me that the holidays aren’t about every little thing going perfect. I thought maybe you needed a reminder.”

His dimples deepen as his eyes search yours, and his voice is lower in his throat when he responds. “I think that fool was just sayin’ words because a pretty girl asked him a question.”

Heat flushes your face as you smile back. “Well, they were very good words.” You drop your gaze to the pot on the stove. “Come on, I bet we can salvage this.”

Determined to save Christmas, you throw in another handful of spices, chased with a few glugs from a bottle of orange juice Namjoon heroically digs out of the back of the fridge. After a few more minutes of simmering, you take a tentative sip of the mixture to find it perfectly adequate.

“I guess we just have to drink twice as much now,” Namjoon quips, filling up two fresh mugs with the remedied wine. You raise an eyebrow back at him, as if to accept the challenge, while you tap your drinks together in a cheers.

By the time you realize that a double-batch of mulled wine and gift-wrapping don’t exactly go together, it’s already too late. The booze makes Namjoon’s big hands go even clumsier, the few presents he attempts an absolute disaster, and you can’t stop laughing long enough to be of any help. At one point he reaches up to cup your jaw for a kiss, but completely misjudges the distance, deftly knocking into his half-drunk mug and spilling the contents all over a tube of wrapping paper and the crotch of your jeans.

You dissolve into giggles until you can scarcely breathe, scooting your chair a few inches back from the table as he jumps up to grab something to soak up the mess. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” you manage to gasp when he returns, immediately focused on cleaning you up first. You wave him away as you get to your feet. “Seriously, it’s not that bad, it’s mostly the table.”

“Jesus,” Namjoon groans as he drops the kitchen towels in his hands onto the wooden surface, doing his best to soak up the puddle, though there’s no saving the ruined gift-wrap.

“It’s not a big deal,” you murmur as he turns back, once again examining the extent of the damage done to your clothes. A shiver rolls through you as his thumb brushes over the waistband of your jeans, and he grimaces a little.

“This is probably gonna stain.”

“I mean…” Your pulse starts to quicken as his fingertips linger where they are, and Namjoon’s gaze flits up to meet yours when you speak, clearly hearing a shift in your tone of voice. “I could just… take them off.”

A smile teases at the corner of your mouth when his eyes widen. “Yeah,” he breathes, then seems to self-correct. “I mean, uh. If-if that’s something you would feel comfortable doing.”

You’re already reaching to undo the button, and then Namjoon takes over to tug open the zipper and push the fabric down your legs, and your nipples tighten beneath your bra at the reminder of how gentle his large hands can be. His lips find yours again and you don’t hesitate to lick into his mouth, jostling slightly as you try to make out with him and kick your pants the rest of the way off at the same time. It’s graceless, but you manage to make it work, and then he pulls away from you to glance back down.

“It looks like a little got on your shirt, too.”

He’s right, you realize: there are faint purple marks splattered just above the hem of your long-sleeve, and you smirk as you look up at him.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you did this on purpose,” you tease, and then in one swift move you pull your shirt over your head, letting it drop to the kitchen floor next to your discarded jeans.

Namjoon’s hands are instantly on your bare skin, trailing heat as they trace the curve from your hip to your waist, and your breath hitches as he ducks down to brush his lips over your collarbone. The low tone of his voice reverberates through you when he speaks against your skin. “I like to think I could’ve gotten you naked tonight even without being an accident-prone idiot.”

You run a hand along the line of his jaw, tipping his head up to seek a kiss, before leaning back to murmur, “I guess we’ll never know.”

He kisses you again, and the two of you stumble across the threshold into the living room, pausing along the way to peel off his sweater and then his jeans, laughing into each other’s mouths, just drunk enough to lack any semblance of coordination you might have otherwise had.

When you drop down to lay back on his sofa, you’re both stripped to your underwear, and you can feel the thick bulge of him, pressing firm-heavy heat into your thigh as he settles his hips between your spread legs.

Namjoon’s eyes roam over your body beneath him, and then he’s tugging the lace of your panties to the side to slip a finger into your drenched center, beckoning it up to rub you just right. Your mouth drops open as he traces slow circles against your front wall, and when he adds a second digit, you can’t help but whimper softly at the stretch. It thrums through you like your lingering red wine buzz, hot and thick and good enough to get lost in, your head dropping back on the couch cushions as your hips rock up into his touch.

“Goddamn,” Namjoon groans, and your eyes flutter open again to take him in, his gaze heavy-lidded as he watches his fingers disappear up into you, coaxing slick sounds out with each pump of his hand. “I had a whole plan,” he rasps. “To take my time. But, fuck, I really want to fuck you.”

“It’s okay, Joon,” you breathe, not sure how much longer you could stand the torturous feeling of his clothed cock grinding into your thigh, so close to where you want him. An ache throbs in your cunt, needy, plugged up with two fingers but still begging for more. “Just fuck me.”

Realization flashes over his face, and then he suddenly heaves a sigh, looking defeated. You have to bite back a noise at the loss as he withdraws his fingers. “I— there’s an obvious joke here, but. I don’t have any condoms. Or if I do, they’re definitely expired.”

It takes you a second to process the revelation, and then you reach up to pull him down to you, smiling when he hums surprise into your mouth at the unexpected response. Your lips linger on his, and then you tip your head to press a kiss to the slope of his neck, not quite able to maintain eye contact as you murmur, “I mean. I’m on the pill, and I’m clean. So.”

“Yeah?” he replies, and your nose bumps against his shoulder as you nod. “Me too. Well, I-I’m clean, I mean. I’m not on the pill.”

You can’t help the giggle that slips out as you look up at him. “Right, no, I get it.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon huffs a laugh in return, his face flushing a little. “I talk a lot, when I’m nervous.”

“I just thought it was an all-the-time thing,” you admit, and the color in his cheeks deepens.

“I’m just always nervous around you.”

Your mouth seeks his out for a kiss sweeter than the last, slower for his shy honesty and the hummingbird thrum of your heartbeat behind your ribs. The heat of his breath ghosts over your lips when you tip back to answer, “You don’t have to be.”

“So, you’re okay?” he asks, almost reverent with his question. “If we—if I don’t—”

“Please,” you insist, and it’s all the encouragement he needs.

With remarkably little fumbling, he drags the lace of your panties down your legs, letting you kick them the rest of the way off while he moves up to unclasp your bra. You slip the straps off your shoulders and drop it over the edge of the couch, then watch as he shifts to strip out of his boxers, freeing his cock with enough force that it smacks against his abdomen with a hefty thud.

You swallow hard as you take him in: long and thick, flushed dark. Big, and fuck, you want all of him; you can feel how drenched you already are between your legs at the thought of all that cock filling you up.

When you tear your gaze away to meet his, Namjoon is staring at you just as hungrily, and he brings a hand to pump himself a few times, to coat his shaft in the wetness that’s started to drool from the head of his dick.

“Come here,” he grunts, his voice rough-edged, and you waste no time straddling yourself over his hips.

Given his considerable size, you figured it might take you a second to adjust, but you want him so bad, the feeling of his cock stretching you open is all white-hot pleasure. Your fingertips dig into his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself down on him, inch by overwhelming inch, until your ass is flush with thighs.

Namjoon’s head drops back against the couch as you slowly grind your hips into him, his hands gripping at your waist to guide the movement. You can’t help the soft sound that flutters out of you: he just looks so good like this, white-blonde hair swept off his forehead, beads of sweat trailing down his temples and glistening at his collarbones, his parted lips full and kiss-bitten.

“Baby,” he groans as you start to move a little more intentionally. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last long. Tell me what to do.”

“Touch me,” you breathe, and you close a hand over one of his, guiding him down to your clit.

Just like the night before in his car, his touch is so gentle when he begins to trace circles into the sensitive nub with his thumb. You can feel the slow-hum build of an orgasm in your core, drawn up by the steady rub of his hand, and you lean back to allow him better access, bracing yourself on his thighs as you rock along his length.

A moan rips through you as the new angle drags the head of his dick just right against your front wall, and it’s good enough to make your eyes roll back. Chasing the feeling, you shove your hips down harder, driving his cock into that spot over and over until your thighs have started to tremble.

“That’s it,” Namjoon grunts encouragingly, his voice husky. “Use me, baby. Look so good when you bounce on my cock like that.”

The words set every last one of your nerve endings alight, and you dig your nails into his skin as your spine arches from the pleasure. His thumb is still working steadily at your clit, and the heavy stretch of his cock has you so wet, you can feel arousal starting to leak down your thighs. Your pussy clings to him like a vice, a throbbing-tight heat, taking him to the hilt every time.

“Oh my god, Joon,” you groan, “I’m gonna come.”

His touch doesn’t let up, and you can feel yourself teetering right on the precipice of it, only able to manage little gasps as you drop yourself down onto his cock again and again and again, with enough force that there’s an audible sound of your skin slapping against his.

Your legs are outright shaking from the effort now, from how close you are, and then Namjoon ducks his head, using his free hand to guide your tit into his mouth. The swirl of his tongue laved across the tight bud of your nipple is just what you need to push you over the edge.

With a moan that’s more like a sob, you drop forward against Namjoon’s chest, sinking all the way down to bury him in your pulsing cunt as you come. He continues to rub you through the waves of your orgasm, breathing ragged in your ear while your pussy gushes around him, until you grab his wrist with a soft whimper of overstimulation, and he relents.

Too gone to get any words out, all you can do is take his face in your hands and kiss him. He rolls his tongue over yours, decadent, as his palms slip down to cup your ass. You groan a little into his mouth when he begins to shift you, your cunt still fluttering-sensitive at every little motion, but he manages to maneuver you onto your back while still keeping himself sheathed in you.

His hands move to your thighs, encouraging your legs to hook over his hips, and his mouth trails kisses down the valley between your breasts before he breathes against your skin, “Can I keep going?”

“Please,” you murmur, and it’s chased with a moan when he starts to rock his hips into you. You feel so full, so swollen from your climax that it’s like your walls were molded to take him, the crown of his cock stroking deep-deep over the place that lights you up inside, shooting sparks of pleasure all the way down to your toes.

Namjoon’s breath stutters on a laugh. “Shit, I’m already close.”

You tilt up to brush your lips against his, humming encouragingly into his mouth, and then he pulls back again, one dimple teasing at the corner of his smile. “God, I— wanna hear you say it.”

Somehow, you know exactly what he means. “Come in me, Joon,” you beg, fucked so good that you’re shameless for it, and you gasp when he bottoms out in you with his next thrust. “Fill me up. Fuck me full of your cum, baby, please.”

It’s like the words send him into overdrive, and he practically growls as he starts to fuck his cock into you forcefully, hard enough to make your tits bounce. Each snap of his hips punches a heady groan from your lungs, and you reach up to drag your nails across the skin of his back as he chases his own end.

“Gonna fucking— give it to you,” he hisses, rolling his hips one, two, three more times, and then you feel his cock twitching, shoved in as deep as you can take him. He heaves a final strangled groan as he comes, rope after rope of his release pumping into you to paint your walls, until you can feel it beginning to spill back down your thighs.

You kiss through the comedown, inhaling shaky breaths into each other’s mouths, your bodies still fitted together like puzzle pieces, sweat starting to cool in the places where skin is pressed to skin. Namjoon finally moves first, giving a grunt of effort as he rolls off the couch, and you throw an arm over your face while the world slowly settles into focus around you.

When he returns, it’s with a towel in hand, and you can’t help smiling as he cleans you up, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone in tandem.

His voice is soft, too, when he finally speaks. “Will you stay here tonight?”

You prop yourself up on your forearms to look at him, and a little glimmer of something lights up in your chest that you can’t ignore. The first spark of an ember, just enough to reignite a flame you’d long since believed to be entirely extinguished. But now he’s shown you: it doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to be alone.

“Of course. We still have presents to wrap,” you say simply, and he huffs a laugh as he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Joon?” you murmur into the crook of his neck, unable to keep your voice entirely steady.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you breathe. “For the magic.”

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #a hyung holiday

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l44serbeam · 1 year

Note

Have you ever considered Mechanic!abby 🫣 like peeking up readers skirt from under that lil roller thing covered in grease😩 girls deserve to be pounded on the hood of a truck as a treat

OOOUUUUUUUU🙈🙈🙈😝😝🫦🫦 i like how ur mind thinks

i kinda got carried away and ended up with this detailed creation LOL i’ve been wanting to write abt abby for a while and took advantage of this request

— OIL CHANGE ★ 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings: y/n is quite the raunchy gyal, y/n also has like a sorta y2k hot pink fem vibe, lowk perv abby, mentions of drinking, pet names, smut, heavy petting, oral (r!receiving), making out, the knee thing (ikik it has a clutch on my im j rlly gay)

yall read the requestttt😝😝

not proofread

“Lev!”

Silence.

“Leeeeeevvvv!!”

Silence.

“LEV!!”

“Um. I don’t think Lev is here.” A voice chipped from the front desk.

Abby tumbled through the door from the backroom of the auto-shop behind the counter, her face pink from what could’ve been heat or embarrassment and her eyes wide.

“Uh- Im so sorry I thought he was still around. I mean, he was like five seconds ago.” Abby laughed, her hand scratching the back of her neck. Y/n laughed, leaning her elbows on the counter.

“What you doing here y/n?” Abby asked, surprised by the sudden appearance. Abby had known y/n from around. She was a friend of many of Abbys friends and the two had partied together a few times, but had never actually gotten to know each other privately.

Pretty much all Abby knew about in regards to y/n was that she was incredibly attracted to her. The very first time they’d met, their friend having brought them both along to a party at a club a few months ago, Abby had interacted with the girl and immediately wanted her. Her hot pink dress that hugged her figure tightly and lips that glimmered with gloss that night called to her. Her cheeky and brazen personality read brat all over it with tons of pink glitter dumped on it and Abby wanted a taste of it.

Now was the first time Abbyd seen her in a casual situation and she couldn’t help but swallow harshly at the sight that her style didnt water down even slightly on a daily basis.

Her tightly cropped pink long sleeve, the hem of the sleeves decorated with a lighter pink fur, and tiny denim skirt that showed the entirety of her legs had Abby eyeing her up and down the second she caught a glimpse of her full figure.

“Needed to get the oil of my car changed and i remembered that youre like the car genius.” Y/n said, batting her eyelashes prettily at the muscular girl.

Oh she shouldnt be real. Abby thought to herself.

“You’ve come to the right place pretty. Pull the car round back.” She instructed, throwing a hand towel over her shoulder.

“Yes ma’am.” Y/n said coyly, walking backwards for a second to flash a slick smile, then turn around and walk out, Abbys eyes pasted on the back of her legs the seconds she turned. Her eyes lingered, like if she stared hard enough the skirt would lift even the slightest of an inch and show the bottom of the supple skin of her ass.

When Abby caught herself staring, she shook her harshly. You’re worse than a man. She reprimanded herself.

Walking out to the back, Abby set up her tools as she watched y/n pull into the marked spot on the concrete, her black ford fiesta decorated with stickers in the bumper and there was a thin pink line that was painted onto the sides. Abby couldn’t help but giggle at the large pink dices hanging from the interior rearview mirror.

Abby loved y/ns femininity and the way she wore it with no remorse or hesitation. She wore it for no one but herself. The men that dogged after her faced brutal rejection because she didn’t dress like that to appeal to them. No, she didn’t even like men like that. She did it because thats who she is.

And oooohhh the way that made Abby feel.

As y/n hopped out of her car, throwin her keys and purse into the passengers seat and shutting the door.

“Mk you can sit over there this wont take long.” Abby said, pointing to the row of chairs against the wall next to the car.

“Ou how luxurious.” Y/n sneered. Walking towards them.

Abby snorted and began getting to work, placing a tire lifter under one of the tires and securing it in the air.

Y/ns eyes lingered on Abbys arm as she pumped the car up, her braid falling over her shoulder and to hang next to her face. Her white tank was already painted with grease from her past jobs. In all honesty, y/n was at the car shop for more than just an oil change.

Saturday from last week was why she was really there. A party at a gay club that their mutual friend invited them both to and after an hour there led to Abby and y/n having quite the tantalizing conversation. A few shots of tequila in, Abby ended up sat on a bar stool, y/n standing between her legs slightly too close to me merely friendly. They’d interchanged slight backstories like where they worked, how they met their mutual friends, and the recents of their love life. That was the main reason that y/n was here.

Nah im not seeing anyone. Not looking for nothing serious really just like wanna fuck around with pretty girls. Abby said, close to y/ns face as to hear each other over the music.

If you’re fucking around with pretty girls than how come we haven’t. She responded, turning her head to talk into Abbys ear with a sly smile.

What do you think im trying to do right now dummy?

But that night ended up with y/n running out the club with her friend who was drunk beyond comprehension, rushing to get an uber to take the two of them to her house.

Y/n loved her friends and would never be mad at having to take care of them in a given situation, but damn it if she said she wasn’t cursing her friend shed be lying for losing the developing flow between her and Abby.

So when her friend had suggested to y/n she should get her oil changed, she caught the opportunity shes been looking for to get ahold of Abby, considering they never got the chance to interchange numbers before y/n had to leave.

Y/n was distracted from her phone when she heard Abby say something from under the car, her back laid on a wooden rolling plank to slide in and out from under.

“Sorry what?” Y/n asked, standing up and walking to the side Abby was.

“When was the last time you got it changed?” She repeated, Sliding out from under and sitting up, to wipe her hands.

“Hmmm like a year and a half maybe?” Y/n shrugged.

“Should’ve called me up sooner.” Abby said, looking up at the girl from her seat.

“I would’ve if i had a way to do so.” She responded, crossing her hands in front of her chest and leaning back against the pillar next to the parking stop.

“You have to light three candles and say my name into a mirror.” She quipped, making y/n laugh.

Suddenly, y/ns phone rang urgently and she looked down at the contact.

“One sec.” She said before answering, pushing herself off the pillar and turning around.

Abby laid back down on the plank, ready to go back under the car but before she did shoe caught a glimpse of lilac between y/ns thighs. From this angle, Abby had a clear view of y/n’s ass, the soft supple skin that peaked down. Abby couldn’t help but lick her lips, rather excited by the view.

Abruptly, y/n turned back around which sent Abby to frantically whip her head and search around her for some tool she didn’t even know she was looking for.

Little known to her, Y/n had caught it, realizing exactly what Abby saw.

I knew wearing good panties would pay off.

Y/n hung up the phone and walked towards Abby. “Sorry it was a friend of mine. Lost her cat and shes freaking.”

“Don’t worry. This shouldn’t take that much longer.” Abby said, going back under the car on the plank and continuing her work.

Y/n stood watching Abby work, her knees bent out from under the car, being lifted enough for y/n to see glimpses of Abbys arms and face. God she wanted her.

Walking up to the car, she leaned against it next to where Abby laid. “So what have you been up to? Been fucking around with some pretty girls lately?” She snorted.

Abby chuckled from underneath. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” She responded, her sultry voice muffled.

“Im just so curious Ab.” Y/n giggled, extending the o in so.

Abby rolled back out from under the car and laid eyes on the girl standing against the car, her arms crossed in-front of her chest and her legs crossed over each other. She had a mischievous glimpse in her eye, one that Abby wasn’t sure how to dissect considering it was always present in her eyes.

Y/n brought her leg forward and lightly kicked Abbys leg with her platform.

As she extended her leg, from beneath Abby could clearly see her clothes mound, her eyes frantically running around trying to avoid looking so obvious. When her eyes fell onto y/n’s own, she saw the bashful smirk on her lips and the tilt of her head.

She knows exactly what shes doing.

Abby stood up, quickly towering over the girl in pink. Out of instinct, y/n pressed her back against the car as Abby got closer.

“Is this what you came down here for?” Abby sneered, darkness growing within her eyes. Y/n looked up at the muscular girl with round eyes, her bottom lip catching in between her teeth.

“What is it baby? You want me to fuck you, is that it?” She said, confidence bubbling in her chest as y/n’s hand pressed onto her chest and looked up at her.

“You’ve kept me waiting Abs.” Y/n groaned.

“Me?” Abby chuckled, her hands coming up to the girls waist. “You’re the one that left running the other night.”

Before y/n could even think of replying, Abbys lips pounced on hers, the kiss immediately heated and desperate.

Their bodies pushed and pulled against one another’s, hands clawing at each other and the noises coming from their mouths obscene.

Abbys lips jumped from y/n’s own and onto her neck, biting and sucking at the space below her ear. Y/n breathed heavily, faint whines leaving her lips at the feeling of Abbys knee pressing against her clit, the heat of the denim and cotton in between their bodies sending bolts through y/ns spine.

Abbys hand wandered below y/ns top, her hand kneading and palming her breasts, the combination of stimulation making y/n automatically rock her hips lightly against Abbys thigh, searching for any kind of release.

Abbys tongue shot into y/n’s mouth to drown the growing moans tumbling from her lips.

“Keep quiet for me pretty girl.” Abby instructed before collapsing to her knees before the pink clothes girl.

“Fuck.” Y/n hissed under her breath at the sight of the larger girl sitting on her knees and looking up at her, her fingers hooking onto the lilac panties blocking her way.

“This ok?” Abby asked, her thumbs caressing the soft skin on y/n’s hips. She desperately nodded im response, Abby shaking her head.

“No baby, words.” She instructed.

“Yes Abby- please.” y/n babbled, her hands coming to push strands of hair that had falles out of Abbys braid behind her ear.

With a shit eating grin, Abby pulled down y/ns panties, wetness pooling on the material that made Abby groan.

Diving beneath the skirt, she didn’t wait for a second to lick a long, painfully slow stride along her, separating y/ns and ending with a flick on her clit.

One of y/ns hands flew to the back of Abbys head, the other cupping over her mouth to stifle the moans that fell from her lips.

Abby went to town on y/ns burning pussy, sucking and flicking in places that made y/ns body twitch and whine.

Her tongue caught itself in y/ns clenched hole, teasing it repeatedly as she felt y/n pulsate around nothing, pleadingly trying to grip onto anything given.

“Oh fuck Abby.” Y/n mewled, making Abby groan into her, the vibrations on her clit making her to fold forward slightly.

Abbys hand came to the back of y/n’s thigh, lifting it up and placing the back of her knee on her shoulder, the newfound angle almost making y/n scream as Abby went down on her.

“Shit Abby- Im close.” Y/n moaned, her grip on the girls hair tight and burning, making Abby more and more feral by the second as Y/n’s hips rocked against her face.

“Cum for me baby.” Abby mumbled into y/n’s mound, the very vibrations of her words sending y/n over the edge.

Y/n’s legs shook, her thighs coming to squeeze around Abbys head, her mouth falling open and her eyes squeezing shut. The rope within y/n’s stomach snapped and Abby didn’t falter her lapping on her pussy, breathing in and licking up all of y/w wetness as it dripped down her chin.

When y/n’s moans of pleasure started becoming whines of overstimulation, Abby separated, pulling up y/n panties that rested at her ankles.

When she stood back up, y/n immediately gripped her by the back of the neck and slammed into her, tasting her own juices on her lips.

“You’re good at that.” y/n laughed lightly as the two barely separated.

“Why thank you.” Abby snickered back.

Y/ns phone rang, sitting on the top of the car. When she reached for it and saw the contact, she sighed, swiping to pick up the call.

“Yes?” Y/n said sourly into the phone, Abby smiling into her neck at her attitude as she pressed kisses into it. “Are you for real right now?” She groaned. “Ill be there in 30.”

Y/n hung up the phone and Abby rose her head again. “The change is done. I just gotta make sure everything screwed it well.” Abby said, her face not even closely suiting the words coming out if her mouth considering she had a big smile plastered onto her lips.

“Perfect. What do i owe you?” Y/n asked referring to the oil change.

“A date.” Abby said without hesitation.

Y/n laughed at the sureness and placed her hand on Abbys chest.

“Consider it paid.”

#ˋ°•*⁀➷ ꜱᴏꜰɪ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇꜱ #lgbtq #abby anderson blurb #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson smut #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #ellie williams #joel miller #the last of us smut #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson angst #wlw #sapphic #lesbian #lesbian smut

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sleepiexx · 8 months

Note

Hi sleepie🖤!! SorryI'm bit shy but I was wondering if you could a valeria x fem!reader x farah if you can't it's ok.

(have a great day or night🖤)

Everything is Falling Apart

Farah Karim x fem!Reader x Valeria Garza

Note: you requested this in late December I’m soooo sorry it took this long 😭😩 I wrote a lot and I’m willing to do a part two so anyone feel free to request!!

Summary: Farah and Valeria were never destined to meet, but when they come across a common enemy they find they work rather well together.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, torture (not on reader

Word Count: 4476

It was not often that one of 141’s sworn enemies stormed through Farah’s front door looking to make a deal, yet in front of her stood the infamous Valeria Garza, backed by cartel, carrying a file of someone Farah knew very little, yet oh so well.

“Farah Karim.” Valeria addressed her steadily, looking at the woman for any hint that she would retaliate.

Farah straightened herself up, crossing her arms and staring with the exact same purpose, “Valeria Garza.”

Valeria’s lips quirked up into a smirk, “I see your little British friends have already told you about me.”

Farah continued to analyze every move the woman made, “what do you want?” She asked.

Valeria’s posture changed, any sign of smugness erased as she got to business. “We have a common enemy.”

Farah scoffed, “what common enemy could I have with you and your drug runners?”

Valeria threw the file she’d been carrying down on the table between them, opening it up and displaying its contents to Farah. Farah looked at the file, then back at Valeria with a quirked brow.

“Two weeks ago your systems were hacked by a seemingly untraceable source.”

Farah straightened her posture, gaze turned scrutinizing. She thought through a million different ways she could disarm Valeria and her men, holding steady, waiting for just one reason to enact any one of those plans.

Valeria’s smirk returned, “That got your attention, huh?” She laughed slyly, at the standoffish look on Farah’s face, “don’t worry, I had nothing to do with it.”

“And how am I to believe that?” Farah glared, “Am I meant to take your word for it?”

Valeria shook her head, “No, you’re not. But right there in front of you is proof that it was not me.” She pointed at the file, Farah began to read some of it.

“I only know that you were hacked, Farah, because three nights ago that very same hacker stole some important information from me.”

Farah nodded, a new sense of understanding, “so what do you propose?”

Valeria stepped forward, making the conversation more intimate and intense, “alone, neither of us have had much luck finding who did this. They’re skilled, I’ll give them that. Covering their tracks like nothing you or I have ever seen before, no doubt they have someone strong backing them. But with your forces and mine combined? They stand no chance. What do you say?”

Farah looked back to the file once more, taking in as much information as she could before offering her hand, “Deal.”

Valeria had proven correct.

Working with Valeria who wasn’t constrained by the politics and the rules enforced by the government proved to ensure things were done in half the time it took Graves or the 141. Their forces together found out more about this hacker in mere days than Farah alone had achieved in weeks.

And while they hadn’t exactly found a name, they found something much better: a location.

Still, they couldn’t go in straight away. They needed a plan. Blueprints for the building, how to get in and out, methods of capturing this hacker— and yes, they’d opted for capture over kill because while Valeria wanted the situation over and done with, Farah made good points on how they needed more information. Hacking through both cartel and rebel militant networks is not just an everyday endeavor, after all.

The time they spent prepping allowed for multiple revelations by the hacker herself.

She sat in a cold room, staring down at a computer monitor and debating herself. There was not a bone in her body that was confrontational. An anxious people pleaser, always scared to disappoint. Yet everyone has their breaking point, in which those bones which constantly allow themselves to be stepped on snap under pressure and you rapidly try to mend them with a splint of rage and conflict. Overcompensation.

She was anxious to disappoint, yes, but there were bigger issues at hand; namely, the documents she had nabbed. She was not supposed to be going through them, her job simply being to acquire them through any means necessary and, well, she’d always been good with computers. But it’s only human nature to peruse information you were never meant to have. The original sin, Eve and the apple, y/n and the documents she was absolutely under no circumstances allowed to open. Tale as old as time.

She knew it had to be bad. You kidnap someone to hack into such intricately protected servers, those servers are bound to have something important. She’d realized that as she hacked the first network and the fact that she wasn’t meant to look at the contents only cemented that fact.

Clicking into the files left her with an unbelievably guilty conscience, but that was nothing compared to the guilt she felt antagonizing over the possibilities of what her hacking would be used for. She knew nothing of the people who kidnapped her, but she knew they could not possibly be the “good guys.” Her mouse hovered over the most recent file for all but three seconds before she took the leap of faith and clicked on it. What she found was, simply put, confusing. Lists of locations, dates, times, she didn’t recognize any of it. No major events which had happened, although she didn’t much watch the news. She clicked into a search engine, looking up each of the dates and locations, only to come up short.

Her brows furrowed, left with more questions than answers. But there were more files she could search, she’d done a lot of digging, they ensured that. She clicked on another file, opening up a black screen with a play button and a timestamp on the bottom. She double checked that the volume on her computer was quiet enough that it could not be heard from outside of the room before pressing play. The scene was horrific.

It was an interrogation, clearly. A man tied to a chair, bag on his head. In front of him were two people, a man and a woman. Both looked intimidating, dressed like they were ready for trouble, muscular arms painted with inky black tattoos, a stare lingering on either of their eyes like they hungered for blood.

The bag was ripped off the man in the chair’s head by the man who was standing. The woman remained where she stood, leaned against a table, arms crossed, watching. Y/n didn’t let the woman’s lack of involvement fool her. The woman had the same predator stare as her companion, if not more sinister. She did not take the backseat, it was almost as if the man was following her silent command.

The interrogation methods which ensued were gut wrenching. Y/n felt as though she may get sick. The man’s screams were unlike anything she’d witnessed or heard before in her entire life. She pressed her palm to her mouth as she stared on in shock. Despite everything, the man would not give the pair the information they wanted. Y/n had no clue what the breaking point was, but the woman stepped up, waving away the man as she called him incompetent— he seemed fairly competent at torture, at least to y/n. She couldn’t fathom what the woman had in plan.

Her face flushed and dread seeped into every inch of her body. She had no idea it could get worse, but it did. The man was left choking on his blood, finally breaking to the woman’s will after a mere five minutes.

While her attention was fixed on the computer screen, the sound of the door opening went unbeknownst to y/n. She clicked off the file, opting to open another but she was stopped short by a stern voice.

“What are you doing?”

Her head shot up from the monitor, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “I- I was just-“

“Opening the file you were specifically instructed to leave alone?” He took a pernicious step in her direction.

She was scared, beyond belief. She knew she had to respond and she had to respond well, but thinking on her feet never seemed to be her thing. “Well it- it’s necessary that I- uhm, ensure I uploaded everything properly.”

His face was stone cold, he was not fooled by her words, that much was evident. “Shouldn’t you have done that when you acquired the file to begin with?”

She licked her lips, shifting her gaze across the room, “I forgot.”

“You forgot?”

There was nothing to do but double down, it was almost like she could physically feel her chances of making it out of this alive spill away and seep down the cracks in the floor as the “mhm,” left her mouth.

In anger, he violently slammed his boot clad foot into the metal trash can beside him, creating a thundering noise to go along with his rage filled voice. “Do you think I’m a fucking idiot? Huh?”

“No- No, no sir! I just-“ her voice cracked, she knew she couldn’t talk her way out of this one, “please just let me go! I won’t tell anyone I swear. I just want out, please!”

The man shook his head, “we will let you go when we are through with you. Until then, you stay right here.”

She shook her head in frustration, “these people you’re fucking with are dangerous, I- I don’t even want to know what they’d do to me if we’re caught.”

He got up in her face, grabbing her wrist with a near bone breaking clutch, “you don’t want to know what I’ll do to you if you don’t do as I say.”

Her face twisted in pain, “fuck- fuck- Jesus fucking god okay! Okay? Let go!”

He dropped her wrist, allowing it to fall to her side. For a moment, he stood unmoving, yet all at once he was impossibly closer, “I’m the one in charge here, you’d do well to remember that,” he snarled. He stared for a tense moment before turning on his heel and leaving the room, not bothering to lock the door when he knew well that there were guards she wouldn’t dare cross.

And all at once she was alone again.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

She pleaded with herself. She could not cry, not here, not now. She would not give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her tears.

She sat still and suffered in silence for just a moment, praying to everything and to nothing, that this would all just be over.

Hours passed, and she swore up and down she was driving herself crazy in that room. Those four walls seemed to cave in on her, she paced and paced, thoughts racing, searching for any way out of the situation she’d found herself in that fateful night she decided to go on a walk at night. Such a stupid idea, looking back on it, to walk the barely lit pathway from her apartment to the corner store, music blaring in her ears. Almost as though she was begging someone to snatch her up off the street and take her away, never to be seen again.

She felt sick, but self hatred had to be cast aside for now. She had to clear her mind, had to think. How could she get out of this? Could she get out of this?

She was shook from her thoughts by a loud explosion, like gunshots— no, not like. The closer she listened, she realized they were gunshots.

The door slammed open, some part of her, no matter how minuscule, hoped it was the man from before. Better a devil that you know, right? But it wasn’t that man, no it was some woman she’d never seen before. She knew better than to trust it, but her brain couldn’t help her here. Not against trained freedom fighter Farah Karim.

She didn’t know the woman but she knew she was screwed as she was slammed against the table. Even more so when she caught a glimpse over Farah’s shoulder. No more than 5 feet away stood the woman whose image she would never burn out of her head, the woman from the video.

Terror shot through her very being. She knew this whole thing would go tits up, could feel it from the moment she saw that goddamn video. This “organization” which had kidnapped her would fuck up and she would reap the consequences.

She kicked and she hit, flailing around in a desperate attempt to fight her way out of the grasp of the woman on top of her. It wasn’t until she felt the sting of cool metal on the base of her throat that she stilled. Her eyes met cold, dark brown. The same eyes she’d seen torture that man in the video without a hint of sympathy. Her chest heaved.

“You’re not going to move unless I say so, you got that?” The hacker tried to nod but the knife moved further up on her neck, pressed harder, nearly piercing her skin, “What did I just say? Tell me, out loud.”

“‘M not gonna move,” she breathed out.

The woman scoffed, lightening the tension between blade and throat only slightly, keeping it there as a reminder of what would happen should the girl before her choose to disobey, “damn right you’re not.”

The other woman in the room was aloof, uncaring about the air of violence caused by her comrade, almost relishing in it yet refraining herself, “Where are they?”

“What?” The hacker asked, wanting nothing more than to answer without a struggle but not understanding the question.

“The files you stole, where are they?”

Those files were important, she could guess that the moment she was kidnapped and forced to retrieve them. Even more so when it was drilled in her head that she was never to give them up, that the man tasked with holding her captive would hurt her worse than the women before her could even imagine. But in their presence, it was easy to tell who was scarier. After all, she’d seen what just one of them could do. But that man? Well, who’s to say he’s not just all talk?

“They- they’re on the computer.”

The knife was pulled from her neck Valeria gestured to the desk. When y/n made no attempt to move, she spoke, “go on then, show us.”

She stood hesitantly, keeping her eye on the women as she went over to the desktop. It wasn’t password protected, there was no need. Not when it wasn’t her own personal device and the men holding her hostage couldn’t tell their ass from their elbow when it came to technology.

She clicked on the file which she’d opened mere hours before and to her horror, what popped up on the screen had been the last thing she viewed. The sight of blood spattered all over that room made her queasy, the fact that the woman who spilled that blood was right behind her with a knife bid her no semblance of security. She flinched, like a teenager who’d been caught watching a porno. And all the same, she scrambled to click out of that specific file and into the folder containing all the information she’d thieved.

The tension was thick, yet it was broken by the loud click of the door being slammed open. Every head in the room turned toward the man in the doorway.

Shit.

She’d been obedient to these women, riding on the fact that the man who threatened her not to wasn’t in the room. Yet here he stood before her, pointing a gun like he’d done so a million times— and she didn’t doubt that he had. What that said about his aim was scary, her end seemed almost imminent yet she could not just accept that. No, her body refused. Adrenaline raced through her veins, preparing her for something she hadn’t half the mind to do.

“Hands up!” His voice boomed. They each listened, her scurrying to put her arms up, palm faced towards him. The other women were slow to do it, but followed, scoffing as though this were only a minor inconvenience.

He did not seem to like that.

“What? You think this isn’t serious?” His brows furrowed, and his face twisted to near rage. The barrel of the gun scanned the room, coming to a stop on the hacker.

Her mouth fell open— she was the least threat in this room, why was the gun on her?

“You need her, right? She’s the one who knows everything you need. I put a bullet in her brain and you’re left with nothing.”

She looked at the other women, suddenly realizing that they were fuming. Farah’s eyes shot to her, searching for signs of betrayal. She found none, but fear was evident— must not have been close with this specific man.

She was patient, calculated. And so was her confidant, but in the presence of such a foolish man, brash measures were deemed necessary. They stared on like predators.

Events flashed one after another, adrenaline making it seem like time ran faster than it truly did. One moment the man held a gun in his hands, trained on the talented young hacker, the next a fight broke out between him and the two military trained women and just when it looked like he had the upper hand, y/n found herself standing over the man, hands coated in thick splatters of blood that wouldn’t seem to stop spewing from the wound she’d made in his eye. The scissors weren’t meant to go so deep. Fuck. This couldn’t be happening.

She had no idea what came over her, it was like she wasn’t in her own body. Like instinct had taken over; if you don’t kill that man, he’ll kill you first. But, he couldn’t be dead, could he? She couldn’t have killed him.

Her bloodied hands shot to his neck, holding two fingers to where she assumed the artery was. She didn’t know what she was searching for. A pulse, maybe, something to prove that she wasn’t a killer. That she hadn’t done this. She moved her fingers around when she felt no movement, surely she just hadn’t found the right spot.

Valeria pushed her hands aside, taking over where y/n had left off with 20 times the precision. Her head turned back to the other woman, “he’s dead.”

Y/n’s heart dropped, her airway seemed to tighten and her face twitched as if in agony.

“One less problem for us to deal with,” Valeria remarked with a smile.

Farah shook her head, eyes trained on the bloodied hacker. This prompted Valeria’s smile to drop as she turned to where Farah was looking in curiosity.

The face the girl before them made was one they knew well. Innocence broken. First blood. She had never killed anyone before.

“Oh- oh god. He’s dead- I killed him!” Her eyes couldn’t stop themselves from holding steady on the man’s body, “they- it, it wasn’t supposed to go so deep. Oh my god, I’m a killer.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

The voice that seemed lately to constantly echo this in her head, finally went silent. Tears dripped down her face. She felt pure dread.

Farah and Valeria couldn’t take their eyes off the scene. They couldn’t get a proper read on the girl. Maybe she’s been conducting her crimes behind a screen, never getting into the nit and grit, leaving the dirty work to other people. But one nagging thought creeped in, one neither of them could seem to push away no matter how hard they tried; maybe, just maybe this hacker girl wasn’t as guilty in this as they had originally thought.

“Fuck.” Farah whispered, cautiously stepping towards the near catatonic hacker despite the harsh look Valeria gave her. She kneeled between the girl and the body, hoping it would urge her eyes from the spot where his body lay, it did not.

“Look at me,” Farah said, voice steady, commanding, yet full of tact. Y/n looked up, lashes lined with tears, lips trembling, nose twitching, still desperate to listen to the woman who seemed to hold her fate in her hands. “You didn’t do anything you didn’t absolutely have to.”

The girl shook with such intensity you’d think there was an earthquake, a haunted look in her eyes as she sniffled and sobbed, “I killed him.”

Valeria was slower to melt at the sorrow than Farah had been, burned one too many times by some teary eyed kid pretending they were traumatized only to sheath a knife in her back. But that look in her eyes was unmistakable, the type of panic and grief you couldn’t fake. An innocence that was irreplicable.

She kneeled beside Farah, placing a hand on the shaking shoulder of the hacker, “for good reason.”

The girl shook her head, in a downward spiral, end nowhere in sight.

But there was no time to console her. Alarms blared across the building, startling the hacker into letting out something between a sob and a scream.

No matter how much the women wanted to help, they knew it would have to wait. Time was running out. Valeria pulled her off the ground, grabbing her shoulders and giving her precise instructions.

“You listen to me, you do exactly as I say and you make it out of this alive. Go to the computer, I want you to put all the information— the files, videos, logs— on this drive,” she pulled the girl’s hand from her side, roughly placing a thumb drive into her hand and clasping her fingers around it, “and then you are going to follow us out of this room and we are leaving. Do you understand?”

She nodded, unable to even form words. When the woman let go of her hand, she hightailed it to the desk, moving information faster than she had ever done in her life. It wasn’t like she did high-stress “hacking,” on the regular, just small things, things that seemed stupid in comparison. When she was done, she placed the drive on the table, wiping all original copies clean off the computer.

The second she gave the indication that she was done, they were out the door. Farah behind her, Valeria in front, pulling her along by her wrist.

They didn’t get far before they were stopped. Pulled into a flow of violence and fighting as they went down a flight of stairs, meeting what was presumably their forces fighting ferociously in the hall. The hacker had no clue what to do with herself, staring around aimlessly, for a moment, she considered tucking tail and running while everyone was distracted but the thought was quickly snuffed out as she made eye contact with Valeria. Brown eyes glared into her own and she stood confused, it’s not like the woman could’ve heard her thoughts.

A slamming pain is what made everything make sense. Oh. She was not glaring at y/n, rather what was behind her. All too fast, the world faded from focus.

Existence was fuzzy. Life seemed so far away. A ringing in her ears was all she could tether herself with, floating around the endless mind scape that was her thoughtless brain.

What brought her to consciousness was a stinging pain ringing through her skull, like the buzz of an amp before a concert. She was confused. Looking around, her surroundings were unfamiliar. Had this entire ordeal been a dream? Some weird post-one night stand nightmare? Post nut clarity? She didn’t remember sleeping with anyone, and she knew good and well that she had a couple weeks worth of memories in captivity, but the mind was a fickle thing, and that was a kinder thought than the realization that everything she experienced had actually happened.

She went to wipe her tired eyes but found that she couldn’t move her hands. Looking above her, she found her hands bound with a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. Huh, maybe this had been some weird sex dream after all. But if that’s so, where was her partner? And why was she still tied.

She tugged at the cuffs, seeing if there was any give, but her hands stayed trapped. She huffed in frustration and a slow building panic, what if the organization recaptured her? The fuzzy cuffs were strange, sure, but maybe they figured her wrists needed to be in tact for hacking. That didn’t take other forms of torture off the table, she had betrayed them after all. Whether she had any loyalty to them in the first place or not.

She heard the door to the room open and she sank into the bed, letting her eyes fall shut as she pretended she was still asleep.

The room was quiet for a moment, until right next to her ear she heard, “I know you’re awake.”

She flinched, eyes opening only to be met with the same dark brown she’d seen as she was hit over the head.

She wondered briefly where Farah had gone, but her question was answered as a scoff sounded behind the other woman. “Leave the girl alone, she passed the test.”

The hacker’s brows furrowed, “test?” She wondered aloud.

Valeria smirked, “the cuffs. Any trained professional could know how to get out of these in seconds,” she grabbed onto the metal, tugging on it to prove that the cuffs were still tight, “you, clearly, are no trained professional.”

Anxiety bubbled in her stomach, it felt as though they could smell her fear. They knew now that she had absolutely nothing over them, no way of fighting back, no thumb drive as leverage. They could drag her through their every whim and she would have to just take it. Her frightened demeanor was evident.

Farah stepped forward, “you have nothing to worry about,” she fiddled with the cuffs before pulling them away and holding them up, freeing the hacker’s wrists, “just means you don’t have to wear these any more.”

“Can I- can I go home?”

“Not yet.”

The hopeful gleam fell from her face unceremoniously, you’re not out of the woods yet, she reminded herself.

“Cheer up,” Valeria almost commanded, “we just have some things we need to sort out, until then you’re staying with Farah and I.”

The hacker looked on expectedly for the woman’s name, presuming that Farah was the other woman in the room.

“That’s Valeria,” Farah explained, “what’s your name?”

The hacker's eyes flitted between the women, anxious, holding off on answering until it seemed almost inappropriate to do so, “y/n.”

Unbeknownst to the group, this little alliance between Valeria and Farah which held y/n captive would become so much more than ever intended.

#farah karim x reader #farah Karim x you #farah karim #farah cod #valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria garza x reader #valeria garza cod #valeria garza #valeria cod #call of duty fanfic

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