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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 5 months

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Kinkmas (11)- The Grinch Who Stole Her Heart

Wanda X Reader 18+

Summary: When a certain witch discovers your hate for Christmas, she can't help but try her best into convincing you to love the festive season.

Word Count: 10.8k

Warnings/Tags: Friends to Lovers, Slow burn, Fluff, Domestic Avengers, Christmas Fluff, Flirting, Crushes, Mutual Pining, Christmas Decorating, Gingerbread houses, Ice Skating, Snowball Fights, Soft Smut, First time, Inexperienced Wanda/Experienced Reader, Fingering, Praise, Confessions, Aftercare

Kinkmas Masterlist

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Gentle chatter and a tranquil, festive atmosphere wrapped around the common room of the compound like a warm, cosy blanket, most of the team bunched up on various sofas with snacks ready in hand, waiting for Wanda to finally press the play button to start Home Alone on the big screen.

The witch, however, was not ready to start the movie, her eyes flickering over the content and excited faces of the team, searching for one individual in particular.

You.

Where were you?

"Where's Y/n?" Wanda asked, puzzled, the soft murmur in the room going quiet, curious and confused gazes meeting one another at the brunette's question, apprehensive to tell the truth.

Natasha carefully placed down the bowl of popcorn that was in her lap, inadvertently stopping Clint from stealing more of the treat which made him grumble a little, the redhead looking between the rest of the team, not wanting to dampen the young woman's mood.

It had become abundantly clear over the last few days and since the start of December that Wanda was in love with the idea of Christmas and all the festive traditions, the team having tried their best to keep you away from her, despite the witch subconsciously seeking you out, her mind unable to explain why her heart would flutter in your presence, her mood always being lifted by you.

"Y/n isn't a 'fan' of Christmas," Natasha cautiously phrases her words, not wanting to ruin the mood that was so gratefully appreciated in the room, the uplifted mood of Christmas enabling the mighty Avengers to have some time to relax and spend together as a family.

"What?" Wanda's tone signalling her confusion at how someone could possibly not like Christmas, her head tilting in her usual manner, Pietro speeding from the sofa to stand with his sister, seemingly just as baffled.

"How can she not be a fan of Christmas?" Pietro adds, just as obsessed with the festive season as his sister, his love for it being driven by the sheer amount of food and presents though.

"She just..." Natasha trails off, thinking how to explain your lack of jolliness, her eyes flickering to Clint for a little help. The archer simply shrugs, her leg kicking back at his shin for his lack of usefulness, a small yelp escaping him as he grabs the popcorn bowl, deciding that the food would be a sufficient apology from her.

"She hates it," Tony bluntly puts it, everyone's head turning from the sofas to the billionaire in the kitchen, fixing himself a ridiculously large hot chocolate in the beautifully decorated kitchen, annoyance written across Steve and Natasha's face as they wanted to keep it a peaceful evening.

"She doesn't 'hate' it," Steve tries to reason, his blue eyes flickering towards Sam and Bucky who are disinterested in what's going on, most likely bickering between themselves over who gets more room on the sofa.

"Oh come on Capsicle," Tony teases, Steve's cheeks darkening at the nickname the man uses for him, mumbling under his breath an 'oh god' at the billionaire's mischievous tone. "She hates it. End of. We've all tried to get her to like it but she just refuses to enjoy the Christmas spirit," he says whilst placing his steaming mug down, flopping onto his section of the sofa and asking Friday to lower the lights, wanting to watch the film now. "Now, are we going to watch the film or not?" He asks, clearly not bothered by your absence.

"Not all of us have tried," Wanda says after a moment, tossing the remote to Natasha, hoping she'd somehow keep the boys in check, knowing the chaos the entire team could cause without her magic there to stop objects flying across the room. "Start the film without me," Wanda calls out, walking out of the room, determined to find your room and figure out a way to persuade you into falling in love with the magical season.

Despite not figuring out a plan, the brunette knocks on your door with purpose, waiting outside for you to open up, various thoughts flooding through her mind as she impatiently plays with the rings on her fingers.

Eventually, you open your bedroom door, your brow raising at her current outfit, a smug smirk creeping onto your lips. The Christmas themed pyjamas amused you as you let your eyes wander down the various festive items decorating the fabric, the red and green chequered pants slightly too long for her as they pooled around her ankles, the fluffy socks further entertaining you as you stood in a simple, thin shirt and joggers, a stark contrast to her holiday themed get up.

"What-"

"Why do you hate Christmas?" she asks, enticing green eyes gazing into yours curiously, your eyes widening at her forward question, a soft chuckle escaping you, Wanda unable to stop the swarm of butterflies in her stomach at the sound.

"Why do you love Christmas?" You counter, leaning against the door frame as you see various emotions flicker across her face, your features softening at her adorably annoyed state.

"Why do I love Christmas?" She repeats almost shocked, still baffled at the whole ordeal, "It's just magical," her tone laced with the love she has for the time of year. "It's a time to spend with family, to give gifts, to have fun with silly traditions," she lists, watching closely to your reactions as your soft expression remains uninterested.

"Just seems like a lot of effort to me," you casually say, her brows furrowing at your words, mouth parting and closing, unsure of what to say. "Is that all you wanted to ask? I'm currently in the middle of a mission report," your tone is annoyingly soft and calm, determination brewing in Wanda to show you how amazing Christmas was but still unsure how.

"No, I..." she trails off for a moment, tilting her head marginally to the side as she thinks hard about how to convince you. "Do you really hate it?" She asks, tone trying her best to hide the disappointment that filled her, your smile softening, body pushing yourself off the frame of the door to look at her properly, still amused at her clothing.

"It's just not for me, Wanda," your tone apologetic as you gathered how much she loved the season, your heart clenching a little at the despondent look that took over her face, wishing you could ensure a smile was always on her lips, only ever wanting her to be happy.

"Ok," she whispers, slowly nodding at your words and turning around to retreat to where the rest of the team was, a sudden idea entering her mind as she hears you shutting the door. "Give me one week," her tone desperate and rushed as your hand halted, opening the door with a confused look, laughing softly as she quickly walked back over to the door, fluffy socks sliding a little on the smooth floor.

"What?" your tone matches the curiosity engraved on your face, smile widening at the glint of hope in her eyes.

"Give me one week to show you how magical Christmas is," she explains further, her enchanting green eyes almost putting you under a spell, part of you contemplating giving into her despite your dislike for everything about December 25th. Your face shows your conflicted state, Wanda taking your delayed response as a win, her nose scrunching up in a way that has your heart beating wildly in your chest, an inexplicable onrush of affection flowing through you. "Please?" she adds, excitement creeping into he tone as you sigh out heavily, unable to resist the soft spot you had for her, a smile gracing your features.

"One week," you begrudgingly say, a smile still present on your face though as her lips stretch into a wide grin, joy filling her as various ideas flood through her mind, ready to warm you up to the season.

***

"I'm not so sure you're trying to convince me," you mutter, lifting the heavy box of decorations and trudging your way towards her room, "I feel like you're just using me for slave labour," you grumble, peaking over the box to watch your step, bumping into the corner of the door frame before dropping the box onto the floor, a rattle of baubles filling the room.

"If you stopped complaining and acting like the grinch this would be a whole lot easier," she teases, crouching down and opening the box, looking up at you with a small smirk that has you rolling your eyes, happiness taking over your chest as you follow her command.

"The grinch is an icon," you mumble, flickering your gaze away from the aesthetic decorations in the box and into her alluring green, finding them far more interesting than the shiny plastic objects.

"Yeah? And why is that?" Her tone is playful and cheerful, eliciting an involuntary smile from you as you struggle to maintain your composure near her, the crush you thought you had gotten over seeming to resurface, her brow raising expectantly as she waits for you to continue.

"He lives in a mountain with his dog, away from people, sounds like heaven to me," your tone slightly sarcastic, earning a soft laughter from her, her eyes sparkling with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher. Her gaze drifts away from you as her own heart starts to beat wildly in her chest at being able to spend time with you, her lips pulling up into a shy smile. "And he's green," you add, a humorous grin taking over your face, cracking her composure.

A giggle leaves her lips at your tone, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she tries to stifle her laugh, her eyes meeting yours with an amused glimmer in them, your smile widening as warmth floods through you in a tender manner.

"What's so special about the colour green?" She manages to ask when she stops laughing, entertained by your words, reluctantly turning her back away from you as she moves towards the tree in her room with a bundle of lights, beckoning you over as she untangles them, wanting your help to decorate her room as she hadn't had time to do it yet.

It's the colour of your eyes is what you initially think of saying, a small blush appearing on your cheeks as you rethink an answer, grateful she wasn't looking at you as you thought it, her head soon looking back over her shoulder as you don't answer.

"I don't know," you unconvincingly respond, shoulders shrugging, "It's just a cool colour." Wanda chuckles, clearly not believing your vague answer as she looks at your form over her shoulder, playfully shaking her head before continuing to wrap the lights around the pine tree while you gradually make your way over to her, your attention flickering over to her desk.

"Oh my god," you laugh out, admiring the framed photograph of Wanda and Pietro dressed up for Halloween in Sokovia, chuckling at their ridiculous outfits. "Pietro looks like Fury with that eye patch," you snicker out, Wanda rushing over to you and sliding the photo out of your hands, embarrassed by her toothy grin in it, a smile still on her face as she hears your genuine laugh, her gaze moving to the photo of her and her brother that she always loved.

"He wanted to be his own version of a pirate," she explains with a nostalgic tone, placing down the photo while you just admire her features, getting lost in thought again, the feelings you tried to bury trying their best to take over you as you simply smile at her softly, a tender expression taking over her face at your enamoured gaze.

"I bet he was just as annoying as a child as he is now," you tease, making her laugh again, your heart melting at being able to hear the sound again, the brunette placing an ornament in your hand to stop you procrastinating, sensing your attempt at stalling her plans.

"Even more," she jokes, her fingers brushing over yours softly, the touch engraved in your memory as they pull away from you, Wanda snapping you out of your thoughts as she continues. "Now come on, we have a tree to decorate," her tone adding excitement to it as you let out a displeased grumble, still smiling at her though.

Maybe, just maybe, the next week wasn't going to be as bad as you thought.

***

"I hope you know I'm only here because you promised me food," you mumble whilst your hand supports your head as you sit at the kitchen island, eyes wandering around the various decorations littered around the room then towards the woman in front of you, observing how she rolls out the gingerbread.

A soft, genuine smile takes over her face in amusement, her gaze lifting to meet your form watching her attentively, chuckling softly as she continues to measure out the dimensions for the house she intended on making, a playful and teasing expression taking over her angelic features.

"Is that so?" she asks, slicing through the dough she's rolled to create the walls of the house, your eyes trained on the deft way her fingers move, gaze lifting to watch her concentrate, in awe of her working. You knew Wanda loved to cook and bake, but to watch her properly, almost intimately, made you truly appreciate her love for the hobby.

"Yep," you say while popping the 'p', smiling at the way she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, a streak of powdered sugar visible against her skin, your teeth biting down on your lip to stop yourself from laughing at her cute state.

"Well if someone wants to eat they have to help," her tone reprimanding you for not helping her at all so far.

"I've helped," you say, pretending to take offence as she uses her magic to softly push you off the stool at the kitchen island, a small groan leaving you as you eventually wander around the kitchen to stand next to her. "Does moral support not mean anything anymore?" you mutter as she hands you a spoon, your fake mood crumbling away at the way she peers up at you with a raised brow, the streak of sugar making you smile.

"What?" she laughs out when you end up staring at her forehead too long, a nervous expression on her face as you grab a cloth from the countertop and delicately wipe away the mess on her skin, her cheeks a similar colour to her magic as she tries to control her emotions, a shy smile taking over her features as you meet her gaze with an affectionate look.

"There's my contribution," you joke, tossing the cloth back onto the countertop as Wanda sees the small smear of powdered sugar on the fabric, the wave of embarrassment never coming as you continue to smile at her, her head shaking at your antics.

"You're not getting out of it that easy," she chuckles out, setting up the bowl for you to make the icing in, handing you everything you'd need before checking on the gingerbread that was in the oven, making sure everything was going to plan.

After you've made the icing and the dough is baked to perfection as well as having cooled down, Wanda starts to put together the house with your help, deciding to ask Friday to help encourage the festive spirit by getting them to play the witch's Christmas playlist, an amused glint present in your eyes as you picture her listening to the music on her own, most likely dancing to each tune.

Your fingers carefully hold the wall of gingerbread, Wanda delicately piping the icing along the edges to help stabilise the structure, the smell of the freshly made treat making your mouth yearn to taste the delicious flavours, the other woman humming the tune to the song that was playing as you assembled the house together. Quicker than you expected, you had the house made and just in need of decorating, your gaze now on Wanda who softly sang the lyrics to 'Last Christmas', a mischievous smile taking over your face.

As if sensing your gaze on her, she met your admiring stare, her smile stretching that little bit wider as she lifts the spoon from the icing bowl, using it as a microphone as she keeps her enchanting eyes on you.

"Tell me, baby, do you recognise me?" she sings, her voice angelic as you can't help but watch in awe as she subtly dances near you, walking behind your body and enticing you to follow her. "Well, it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me," her gentle voice sounding around the room, blessing your ears as she sings the iconic song, "'Happy Christmas', I wrapped it up and sent it, with a note saying 'I love you' I meant it, now I know what a fool I've been." Her words further lure you into being amazed by her, your body turning once again to follow her movements, her body next to yours as she places the bowls she's just collected on the countertop, her eyes lifting up to meet your enamoured gaze, "But if you kissed me now, I know you'd fool me again." Your breath hitches at the way her eyes subconsciously drift to your lips before flickering back up, the soft, loving glint evident in her eyes as the gaze lingers, her only breaking the gaze when the desire to kiss you becomes too strong.

"Last Christmas, I gave you my heart but the very next day-"

"You sold it on ebay," you interrupt, a teasing smile on your lips as you steal the piping bag from her, a laugh spilling from her lips at your immature behaviour. "This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to Marks and Spencers," her hand lightly slaps your arm as you 'ruined' the chorus for her, her smile almost reaching her ears though at the pure joy you managed to fill her with, your arms raising in surrender as you see wisps of magic flicker at her fingers, knowing how she could torture you with ticklish sensations like she did a couple days ago when decorating the tree. "Ok, ok," you laugh out in surrender as the red tendrils brush over your skin, "Tesco extra instead of Marks and Spencers?"

She simply smacks you lightly once again on the shoulder, her hand lingering against your body before pulling back, rolling her eyes at your amused and smug smile, cheekily squeezing a little of the icing onto your finger to taste it.

"Mhmm delicious," you softly moan at the sweet treat, exaggerating your love for the simple food you made, Wanda stealing the bag back from you and pointing it at you like it was a weapon.

"Stop eating all the decorations," she mutters, using her magic to push away the bowl full of sprinkles, laughing softly at the way your hand misses and hits the table, a small pout forming on your lips.

"Fine," you grumble as she hands you the piping bag back, letting you have full reign on decorating the gingerbread house, something she'd inevitably regret.

***

A couple hours later you're sprawled out against the sofa, a bowl of the broken gingerbread house in your lap as you tilt your head to look at Wanda, once again admiring her features while she was fully immersed in whatever was playing on the tv.

Your eyes focus on each delicate feature of her face, trailing over the slight dust of pink on her cheeks, a few strands of brunette locks framing her face perfectly and the gentle slope of her nose before spending a little more time admiring her plump lips and eventually settling on her mesmerising eyes. Your heart clenched a little at her beauty, your gaze eventually being torn away from her as you knew you shouldn't think of her as more of a friend, to get lost in fantasy of what it would feel like to be with her all over again as you remember the pain of pushing it all down.

The soft giggle that left her lips immediately knocked you out of your thoughts, the smile that seemed ever present near her emerging once again as you raised your brow at her when you met her gaze, her nose scrunching in that captivating manner as red wisps form at the tips of her fingers once again.

"I thought we were going to share the gingerbread," She teases lightly, using her magic to steal a piece from you, your hand wrapping protectively around your bowl of treats.

"Woah, this is mine Maximoff," you defensively say, using her surname playfully, addicted to the taste of the icing you used to cover most of the crisp gingerbread, the aim of your decorations to give you a sugar overload. "I decorated it," you mumble, squinting your eyes at her when she floats over a larger piece from the bowl in faux annoyance, your hands placing the bowl down as there way no way you'd be able to stop her magic, your eyes watching with interest how the red tendrils delicately flow through the air.

"And I made it," she counters, biting into the corner of the roof, a pleased noise escaping her at the taste of it, the festive spirit further consuming her as the taste brings back many memories of past Christmases, a nostalgic look taking over her face momentarily.

"I thought you were trying to convince me to like Christmas," you joke as you lean back against the sofa, eyes trained on her as she raises her brow at your relaxed manner, continuing to eat her piece of gingerbread.

"I am, is it working?" She asks, smiling at you hopefully, her enthralling green solely focused on you making it hard to think straight and come up with your usual sarcastic remark. You pause for a moment, Wanda's head tilting in curiosity as you remain silent, a small blush forming on your cheeks as you gather yourself together.

"It would be if I got to eat all the gingerbread," you tease eventually, switching your gaze to something other than her alluring beauty, eyes landing on the various sweets stuck on the white icing.

"Is it actually working though?" She asks again, voice holding a more serious and intrigued tone compared to her joking tone, her green containing a hint of nerves as she really hoped it was.

Your mouth opens and closes to respond, unsure of what to say. If you were being honest, you didn't love the festive season any more, you simply enjoyed the last three days because you were with her.

"It hasn't changed my opinion on Christmas," you say softly, her face dropping a little making you continue, "But, I have had so much fun over the last few days, I... I've really enjoyed spending time with you," you fix her mood instantly, a blush taking over her face this time, her gaze flickering away from you, teeth biting down softly on her lower lip to try and contain her smile.

"Yeah?" she murmurs out a little timidly, gathering the courage to meet your softening gaze once more, the two of you smiling at each other, unaware of the swirling emotions in both of you. "Well still I've got four more days to fix that," she says, tone determined and adamant that she would persuade you, your smile growing that little bit wider at her confidence, part of you hoping she was right just to see that smile on her face.

***

"I'm not so sure about this Wanda," your voice a little shaky as your fingers grip the edge of the wall as tightly as possible, the ice skates you were wearing sliding on the ice in a manner than unnerved you, your eyes lifting to find Wanda only to see her skating off skilfully, turning back to you with a teasing look.

"Come on, I promise it's fun," she calls back, swarms of people brushing past you, further adding to your nerves as you hated how unstable you felt, her green eyes meeting yours through the crowd, sensing how uncomfortable you felt.

You watched a little embarrassed as she effortlessly skated over to you, the sound of screaming children nearby and the scratching of ice being blocked out as she comes closer to you, a different kind of anxiety flowing through you at her little smirk.

"Is the infamous Y/n, world hero and Avenger, scared of ice skating?" she teases softly, your eyes rolling at her comment. Just because you were an Avenger didn't mean you enjoyed activities like this.

"No..." you trailed off, your foot slipping slightly, Wanda watching how your body immediately tensed, knuckles bleeding white at your grip on the edge of the wall, her hand moving to your lower back to keep you stable, wanting to make sure you were alright. "Maybe just a little," you confess quietly, hoping she wouldn't find it a problem, her smile turning a little sympathetic. "It's scary ok? Steve got stuck in ice for like seventy plus years in it so it must be very dangerous," you explain, a genuine laugh slipping past her lips at your reasoning.

"It was only sixty six years," she corrects, your head shaking a little at her words, your mind processing where her hand was, a wave of butterflies taking over your body as your fingers adjust their grip on the cold edge.

"Do you trust me?" Her voice a gentle whisper, your mind focussing on her, only her as she looks at you as if you were the only thing going on in the ice rink, your head nodding as you couldn't muster any words to leave your mouth, far too nervous to not embarrass yourself any further.

Her hands gently clasp yours, her fingers intimately interlocking with yours, her soft gaze meeting your hesitant one, her feet guiding her backwards as she slides across the ice, pulling you carefully with her.

"Bend your knees a little," she instructs, trying to guide you into the best position so you wouldn't fall. You try to listen to her but the feeling of her impossibly soft hands in yours makes all common sense leave your mind, your body just about listening to her instructions. "Don't lean too far forwards if you don't want to fall," she playfully whispers, keeping you close to her as she can tell it's keeping you calm, her intoxicating perfume reaching your senses and further drowning you in the thought of her. "That's it," she praises softly, a small smile reaching your lips as you skate slightly on your own, still tightly gripping onto her, not that she minded.

The two of you did a few laps around the ring, your grip on her gradually decreasing as your confidence grew, the two of you stopping by a wall to relax for a moment, your cheeks and noses tinted pink from the cold room, smiles engraved on both of your faces.

Your smile widens when you see a child fall over, a snicker leaving your lips as you can't help it, Wanda playfully pushing you at your reaction, reprimanding your behaviour as the mother briefly looks over towards you two in annoyance, her child's face pulling into distress. Panic flashes across your face as you slip a little, your arm shooting out to wrap around hers, pulling yourself into her body, flush against her, making both of your blushes darken a little, her arm wrapping around you to keep you upright.

"Don't," you mumble when you feel her laugh against you, your body melting against hers as she keeps you stable and secure, her body also helping you keep warm.

"Don't what? Tease you?" She chuckles out, your head turning to meet her amused and mischievous gaze, breath hitching a little as you underestimated the space between you, your lips mere inches away from hers, both of your gazes drifting down to one another's mouths.

The heat that washes over you when her slightly darkened green meet yours causes you to straighten your back, pulling yourself further away from her face, your hand hesitantly reaching further down her arm to her fingers, interlocking them once again to try and keep your thoughts on anything but the longing to feel her lips on yours, a brief moment of courage washing through you when she doesn't pull back.

"I won't tease you," she whispers out once she's gotten control over her pounding heart, her cheeks still tinted pink as she smiles at your hand holding hers, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand, grateful for you being braver than her and initiating something. "But that doesn't mean I won't tell Nat," a soft laugh leaves you as you meet her eyes once more, sensing the mirth in them as she imagined the various ways the Russian would torment you.

"I'm never going to hear the end of it," you mumble, her nose scrunching at your tone, the action making you think it was worth any amount of teasing comments that Natasha could throw at you, the warmth that wrapped around your heart at her expression worth anything in the world as she drags you away from the wall again, skating with you, hand in hand.

***

A relentless pounding at your door has you reluctantly rolling out of bed, in dire need of a nap after the new workout Natasha wanted to try with you, your body ready to sink into your soft mattress and relax for just a little bit.

"You better have some more gingerbread," you mutter as you hear Wanda call your name through the door, your hand turning your door handle and opening, revealing the woman who consumed all your thoughts. "What-" A thick winter coat was thrown at you, your body not expecting the item making you take a step back, your eyes widening at Wanda in confusion as you properly took a hold of the clothing item, the coat a contrast to your oversized shirt and joggers.

"Do you wanna build a snowman?" she sings in a teasing voice, a groan leaving your lips at the movie reference, a tired sigh leaving your lips.

"I just wanna sleep," you whine out as she simply walks into your room as you turn away, smiling at the way you still comply to her question, searching through your wardrobe for a thick jumper and pants, not wanting to freeze in the cold as snowflakes gracefully spilled from the sky, the grass surrounding the compound drowning in the white blanket of snow.

"You can sleep later," her tone amused at the way you shake your head at her, amazed at the way she has you wrapped around her finger as you shrug on the coat she tossed you, turning your head and sending a pointed look.

"This better be worth it," you mumble, her body coming closer to yours and fixing your hood as it was sticking out weird, her cold fingers brushing the back of your neck causing you to wake up a little more.

"Spending time with me is always worth it," she whispers, recalling how you confessed to her how you enjoyed being with her, a smile creeping onto your lips as you chuckle at her words, her eyes peering up into yours as you let her fix your outfit, unable to stop the warmth bubbling inside you.

"That is true," you murmur ever so softly, her smile widening as she lets her hands drift to your shoulders to smooth the coat out, growing in confidence near you after being together for the last four days constantly. "But sleep is pretty amazing too," you mumble, earning her signature nose scrunch, your heart beating that little bit faster at the enamoured look in her eyes.

"Come on," she sighs out, walking behind you and pushing you towards the door, struggling a little as you use your strength to keep you planted.

"Save me bed! She's trying to kidnap me," you call out dramatically, chuckling as she uses her magic to push you out of the door, you calling out of your bed once more, earning another string of laughter from her as she leads you out of the compound, walking side by side with you, letting your bodies brush.

A chill takes over your body as you trudge your way through the snow that's piling up, the sound of satisfying crunches and nearby birds filling the air as you let Wanda lead you to the best place to build her desired snowman. You watch with an affectionate gaze at her thick gloves and the scarf that's wrapped so tightly around her neck, the bobble hat that she stole from you moving with each step she takes, her head looking her shoulder at you, her smile almost reaching her ears.

You follow her until she stops, deciding this was the best location to build it, her eyes looking back at the compound and ensuring you'd be able to see it from the large window in the common room, unaware of the redhead and archer sitting peacefully together, curious as to what you two were doing, a glint of realisation flickering across Natasha's face.

Unable to stop yourself, you give into the temptation of crouching down in the snow, grabbing a handful of it and moulding it into the shape of a large snowball, trying to perfect the shape to make it easier to throw.

"Hey Wanda?" You call out innocently, lining up your shot as you wait for her to turn around, her eyes glimmering with joy before widening, unable to move out of the way as the snow crashes against her body, exploding into various fragments of white dust, a gasp leaving her lips.

You can't help but laugh wholeheartedly at her reaction, an uncontrollable laughter escaping you as happiness consumes you entirely, shock present on her face to begin with before revenge takes over, taking advantage of your distracted state and grabbing a handful of snow, ready to throw it back at you.

Your laughter is interrupted when she headshots you with the snowball, disbelief evident on your face as her smile grows smug, a dangerous chuckle leaving you making her smile slowly fade, mischief evident on your face. At your expression, Wanda starts to run, laughter spilling from her lips as she gets a head start, your legs swiftly moving to catch up with her.

"Oh no you don't," you call out, your smile engraved on your face as you chase after, using your abilities to help you catch up to her. You can't stop the genuine laughter that escapes you as you dodge the snowballs her magic throws at you blindly, your body gradually catching up to her, inching closer as the two of you trample through the snow like idiots, not caring about anything else in the world but one another. Eventually, your arm wraps around her middle, pulling her closer to your body as you grab a load of snow with your other hand, intending on dropping it on her head, your plan not working as you both go tumbling in the snow, laughter still sounding around the two of you. "Gotcha," you chuckle out as you land on top of her, her hands holding onto your shoulders as your body is flush against hers, your hand cupping the back of her head protectively and the other bracing your body above hers.

Her breath gently fans across your face as you both pant a little from the sudden running, your eyes getting lost in hers as she smiles up at you angelically, your gaze eventually drifting across her features, still stunned by her beauty. Your gaze settles on her lips, watching how she subtly wets her lower lip before her teeth gently bite down on it, your eyes flickering up to her softening green, building up to ask her the question you've wanted to for ages.

"Can.... Can I kiss you?" your voice a barely audible whisper, the sound of your heart pounding against your ribcage deafening in your ears as you await a response, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering vigorously.

"Took you long enough to ask," she murmurs playfully, having heard your thoughts about her eyes all those days ago, piecing together that you may have felt the same way about her as she did towards you.

Her fingers fisted against the hem of your coat and pulled you down into her body, claiming your lips in the way you both longed for. You kissed her tenderly, her lips pressing over yours just as affectionately, the cold tip of her nose brushing against yours as you got lost in the moment together. Your eyes fluttered shut to savour the feeling of her mouth, how gentle and soft it was as you weren't guaranteed another chance, another kiss, so you forced your racing thoughts to stop for a moment as your lips moved against hers lovingly, wanting to engrave the feeling into your mind forever. The kiss was shy and timid, your lips remaining together for mere seconds, but the intimacy of it made your head spin with the thought of her. The thought of her body pressed against yours, her mouth pressed against yours, forehead leaning against yours and arms pulling you impossibly closer, it was all too much. You were utterly mesmerised by her. Everything just felt so pure, sogenuine, so... intimate that it made you sigh gently into her mouth, pulling back with nothing but love evident in your eyes as she matched your tender gaze, just as obsessed with you as you were her.

"I told you this would be worth it," she whispers against you, her lips gently brushing yours, enticing you into gently claiming hers once more, smiling into her mouth.

"It really was," you murmur lovingly against her, her head hiding against your shoulder as she can't stop the wide smile appearing on her face, her nose scrunching up once more as you melt against her body, joy coursing through you at what just happened.

She kissed you.

You actually just kissed her.

A wave of giddiness overtook you as you grinned at her when she pulled back from your body, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes as her hands left your body, your mind paying no attention to it as she looked at you in that adoring manner, consuming your thoughts.

What you didn't expect was to feel snow hitting the back of your head, an adorable laugh leaving her at her playful actions, disbelief evident on your face. The feeling of betrayal immediately left you at the heavenly noise that spills delicately from her, your head shaking to remove the snow in your hair as she cups your cheek, guiding you back down for an apologetic kiss, the two of you unable to stop smiling.

Another individual who couldn't stop smiling was Natasha who watched the scene unfold through the window with Clint, glad that you finally acted on your crush and helped her win the bet with the archer. He grumbled as he reached for his wallet, searching for the desired note as a sigh of relief left the redhead when you started to walk hand in hand through the snow, finding somewhere else to finally build the snowman.

***

Humming to yourself, you found yourself in Wanda's room again, this time sprawled out of her bed, waiting for the witch to return with the snacks for the movie night she planned for you. It was going to be a Christmas marathon, starting with Home Alone one and two, then onto the Grinch so Wanda could tease you about your 'icon' and then finally Elf as she was sure you'd be asleep by then, having discovered how much you loved to lay in bed yesterday when you fell asleep during the first attempt at the marathon, much to her amusement. This time, however, she planned to keep you awake with food and potentially a cuddle as the two of you swiftly discovered how much you both craved physical touch, even if it was something small like holding hands, a smile growing on her lips as she enters the room, remembering the various instances of you subtly reaching for her hand and interlocking your fingers.

A soft chuckle leaves her lips at the way your head raises off the bed at the sound of the door shutting, your eyes growing curious when you see the bowl in her hands, instantly perking up and eager to know what she brought. When your eyes saw the popcorn in the bowl, your smile widened, moving around on her bed so that your back was against the pillow at the headboard, arm raising to welcome her body against your side, the other woman complying to your silent request.

The feeling of her body snuggling against yours caused a grin to break out on your face, your heart unable to comprehend the sheer joy you felt over the last few days, grateful for her making such an impact on your life.

"You're incredible," you murmur softly when she places the bowl into your lap, your lips pressing to her temple, the art of being affectionate with one another natural to you both.

"Are you only saying that because I brought food?" she teases, carefully picking up a piece of the sweet and salty treat and placing it into her mouth, her head tilting to rest against your shoulder as she uses her magic to bring the remote closer to you both, her hand effortlessly grabbing it and starting the first film of the night.

"No, I'm saying that because you are the most amazing and beautiful woman I know," you whisper against her hair, earning a blush at your charming words. "Who just happens to always bring me food," you add teasingly, earning a playful pinch to your side, a small yelp leaving you.

"Shhh, just watch the film Detka," she murmurs, your smile widening at the endearment, not commenting on it as she shuffles her body closer to you, her fingers playing with whatever part of your shirt she can reach as the two of you delve into the world of Christmas cinema, content with being one another.

As the film plays on, without even realising it, your hand rests on her thigh, tracing idle patterns against the thin fabric of her pyjama pants, Wanda's cheeks a similar colour to her festive clothing as her thoughts go down a sinful route. She can't help the warmth that pools between her thighs at your actions, your hand high up on her thigh as your toned body presses into her, her mind replaying the image of you working out earlier, the way your body effortlessly showed signs of strength and stamina, her eyes having a hard time from tearing away from your hands, watching as your veins showed slightly, further adding to the arousal that started to build within her as she got lost in thought.

Hesitantly, she tilted her head to rest at the crook of your neck, her lips softly pressing a kiss there as she knew you weren't paying attention to the film, your thoughts growing louder as you replay all your memories with the brunette, the overwhelming amount of happiness and love you felt allowing the witch to hear them. To try and gain your attention, she pressed another kiss to your neck, your breath hitching at the action as your hand freezes at her thigh, her lips burning against your skin as your body grows warmer at her suggestive move.

"Detka," she sighs out, her breath fanning across your skin as she pulls back from your neck, her green eyes meeting yours, desire but also nervousness shimmering them.

"Yes?" you whisper out, gaze subconsciously drifting to her lips, remembering how addictive they are, your own eyes darkening as your gaze lingers, unable to look at anything else.

"I don't think either of us are watching the film," her voice is barely audible as she murmurs the words, tilting her head slightly, the action causing her lips to inch closer to yours, the movement subtly seductive as you wait for her to make the move, sensing a bit of indecision from her.

"I don't think we are," your tone lowering a little, patiently waiting for her, not wanting her to do anything she'd regret.

"I wonder what else we could possibly do..." she trails off, smiling a little shyly, biting down on her lower lip and fuck, you don't think you've ever felt so hot before, the sight of her intoxicating, making it impossible to think straight.

"I have no idea," you whisper back with a small smirk, tilting your head down so that your lips were brushing over hers gently, not applying enough pressure to give her what she wanted, your eyes watching how hers flutter shut, awaiting your mouth. "What do you suggest?"

"I think... I think we should kiss," she rasps out, moving her body so that she was facing you properly, your brow raising a little at her words as your smile grows, fingers moving to brush back a few stray strands of her hair back, eventually letting your hand rest on her cheek, cupping her jaw and bringing her a little closer.

Your eyes flicker over all of her features, admiring them all while waiting for her to lower her face, the brunette only doing so marginally, mirroring your actions and wanting to memorise every inch of your beauty.

It feels like you're waiting an eternity until she lowers her face even more, her lips barely putting any pressure on yours as they briefly brush over them. Your eyes flutter close when you feel her hands cup your jaw, waiting for her to kiss you, to crash her lips to yours, to do anything at this point as you just wait, wait and wait.

When she feels like she's admired you enough and savoured the moment, she kisses you. She kisses you softly and tentatively to begin with as you explore each other's mouths, her actions soon growing a little more confident as the kiss grows hungrier, Wanda seemingly starved of you. It's intimate, it's desperate, it's passionate. It's everything you dreamed it to be.

You can't do anything but give into her relentless mouth, hand clutching at her sweater to ground yourself as all you can think of is her lips moving against yours, her body pressed up against yours, her soft fingers threading through your hair, just her.

A soft moan leaves her when you guide her to straddle your lap, heat immediately taking over her body, your touch burning into her skin as arousal pools between her legs at the feeling of your body pressed against hers, strong arms wrapping around her, a sensual sigh escaping you as when she pulls back from the kiss, eyes darkening with desire as you peer up into the green, a shameless smile on your lips.

"I think we should do that again," you tease, leaning in for another kiss as she smiles against you, her confidence growing with every kiss, every peck in between laboured breaths as her hands move to your shoulders momentarily, gliding them down your back in a seductive way, a groan leaving you at the way her fingers press into the toned muscle satisfyingly.

Experimentally, you slide your tongue into her mouth, a sinful moan escaping her as she welcomes your advances, your hands toying with the hem of her jumper, not sure how far she wanted to go as your mouths move lewdly together, her back arching a little to press her body further against yours.

"Am I going too fast?" Your voice a gentle whisper as you pull back from the kiss, sensing a little bit of nerves from her, eyes gauging her reaction as your fingers had slipped beneath her clothing, feeling the warmth and softness of her bare skin, her cheeks flushing a deep red as she meets your enamoured gaze, not wanting to pressure her.

"No I just-" she cuts herself off, feeling a little embarrassed as your hands slide out of her jumper, snaking around her waist and pulling her closer to rest against your body, bringing her in for a soft embrace that she appreciates. "I never done this before," she confesses, a soft smile appearing on your lips as you guide her head back so you can meet her timid green, "I want to but I just... don't know what I'm doing."

"Do you trust me?" you ask, mimicking her words from the ice skating, your fingers raising to brush back another stray strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear affectionately as she nods. "I'll take care of you, I promise," you whisper, kissing her lips with nothing but love, conveying how gentle you'd be with her. "We can stop at any time," you reassure her, not wanting her to think she's committed to having sex with you, "Just tell me to stop and we stop. I don't care what's happening, all I want is for you to feel safe and comfortable with me." She smiles shyly at your words, tilting her head to kiss you once again, grateful for how caring and considerate you were. "We'll go at your pace, ok?"

"Ok," she murmurs back, smiling into another tender kiss as you do as you said, letting her control the way her lips move against yours, slowly building the hunger back up.

"Tell me what you want," you sigh out against her lips, feeling her hips subtly rock against your lap without her even realising it, your teeth softly nipping at her lower lip, earning a small moan as she flutters her eyes back open, meeting your patient gaze.

"I want...I just want you," she whispers, holding the intimate gaze before leaning back in, kissing you with a new sense of urgency, a small moan leaving you at her words. Your lips pull into a small smile as she slides her tongue hesitantly into your mouth, the kiss turning messy and causing a wave of arousal to flood through, Wanda's mind spinning at the intoxicating way you make her feel.

"You have me," your tone laced with love as she rests her forehead against yours, lips lingering open against one another, simply relishing in the intimacy. "Show me what you want from me," you encourage, sliding your hands from around her lower back to hers, letting her take a hold of your hands to guide them where she wants them, your lips parting from hers to pepper kisses along her jaw softly, her head lolling to the side to welcome your addictive touch.

She simply holds your hands for a moment, deciding what she wants from you, her mind freezing momentarily at the way your teeth scrape against her sensitive skin, a pleasant shiver running down her back as she curses lowly in Sokovian, the sultry sound causing a throb between your thighs.

When she's ready, she squeezes your hands softly, guiding them down her body to the hem of her sweater, hoping you understand her silent request. Your fingers slide under tentatively, feeling the way her stomach tenses and relaxes at your touch, the skin impossibly soft and enticing, your mind reminding you to wait for her as you caress the skin you can reach.

"Please," she murmurs out, one of her hands moving to your hair, threading her fingers through your silky locks and softly pulling you away from her neck, her lips pressing to yours with a hint of desperation as she grinds her hips with a little more purpose now, a wave of pleasure coursing through her.

"Off?" you mutter against her lips questioningly, her nodding into a sensual kiss as your lips meet gently, her sighing into your mouth as your hands grip the hem of her sweater, slowly, teasingly, pulling it off her body.

Her hands move off you to help you pull the item of clothing off, your gaze remaining on her face as she turns shy again, waiting for another nod before letting your gaze drift down her body, your breath hitching at her sheer beauty.

Her body is sculpted to perfection, crafted by Aphrodite herself to create the most beautiful woman you'd ever lay your eyes on, her delicate and smooth skin enticing your eyes all over her exposed body, her curves luring your hands to caress them softly, eyes flickering back up to hers, nothing but admiration and love in them.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" you whisper into a passionate kiss, her nerves immediately dissipating at the sheer honesty lacing your tone, another blush creeping onto her face at how amazed you were by her. "Any idea what you do to me?" you continue, wrapping your arms around her body and pulling her closer to hers, her bra covered chest flush against your body as she moans into your mouth, her body begging for more, needing you to touch her lower.

"Please Y/n," she sighs into your mouth, your hands creeping up her body and resting just under her bra, fingers brushing over the skin, causing goosebumps to rise. "I need you," her tone conveying how desperate she was, your worshipping touch only driving her towards madness, her body viewing them as teasing.

"Where do you need me, love?" the endearment spilling from your lips naturally, a wave of arousal flowing through her at your slightly husky voice, your lips parting from hers once more to kiss down her neck, sucking partly before moving to kiss her shoulder and collarbones, waiting for an answer.

"Here," she sighs out softly, her fingers wrapping around one of your wrists and guiding it down to meet the waistband of her pyjama pants, your head instantly leaving her body to look at her properly, the green in her eyes usually filled with love completely replaced by desire and hunger.

"Are you sure?" Your voice is full of care as your hand remains where she guided you, gazing into hers as your heart beats wildly in your chest, still stunned a little by the sight of her on top of you, the heat between your thighs incessant.

"Yes," her voice a mere whisper as she kisses you softly, deciding she wouldn't want anyone else to be her first, always having loved you without even realising it.

"Remember we can stop whenever you need to," you murmur before claiming her lips with a newfound purpose, wanting to give her everything she wants, fingers carefully sliding under her waistband.

"Fuck," she whispers out, voice a little shaky as her hands move to your back once again, clutching onto your t-shirt as your fingers brush against her core through her soaked panties, a groan leaving you at how wet she was for you. She was this desperate for you.

You move the pad of your finger against the wet fabric, teasingly sliding it up and down her core, earning a small, desperate moan from her into your mouth, her teeth biting down on your lower lip impatiently as you continue to work her body up, her hips bucking against your hand at the slightest of touches.

"Can I-"

"Please," she practically whimpers out, your lips tugging up into a smirk whilst your free hand glides up and down her back soothingly, your fingers slowly sliding under the waistband of her panties, a sensual sigh escaping her when you finally make contact with her core. "Detka," she pants out against your lips as you swallow the desperate noises that leave her lips as your finger swipes through the abundance of arousal that's pooled between her thighs, coating your digit as you explore her wet sex.

Pulling back from the kiss, your eyes observe every single reaction to your touch she offered you, drinking it up like an intoxicating substance as your finger spreads her slick around her, moving to circle her clit gently to begin with, slowly building in confidence as your touch grows firmer, intending to bring her as much as possible.

"You're so pretty like this," you mumble, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, teeth scraping the soft skin again to drive her mad, your finger sliding up and down her soaking folds before settling on teasing her entrance, a whine leaving her at your enamoured tone and taunting actions.

"Detka," she sighs out, tone conveying the sheer desperation she feels for you, needing you to bring her towards her release, her body needing your touch to satisfy her.

"Shhh, I'll take care of you," you murmur, tilting your head away from her neck to let your lips brush against her compelling ones, her breath fanning across your face as her lips part, your finger slowly sliding into her, your eyes in awe of her blissed out expression. "Tell me what feels good," you encourage, slowly curling your finger inside her beautifully, a moan spilling from her lips directly into your mouth as you claim her lips softly, slowly letting your lips slot over hers, her mind hazy with all the pleasure and heat flowing through her.

"Shit, there, right there," she groans as you curl your finger against her weak spot, the palm of your hand brushing against her clit as she rocks her hips against you, fingers gripping your shirt tightly.

"Yeah?" you husk out and the slight cockiness to your tone has her mind spinning even more with arousal, delirium taking over her as she moans against you once more, your name falling from her lips like a small chant as you thrust your finger in her a little faster, pleasure bubbling through her. "What if I do this?" your voice a teasing whisper, your thumb moving to brush over her clit, a choked moan escaping her as you move it in languid circles, doubling the pleasure fogging her mind.

"Y/n," she pants against you, the corner of your lips tugging up into a smirk at her desperate tone, the way her walls clench and spasm around you, her thighs tensing around your body as her hips buck harder when you time your movements right, a sudden wave of pleasure flowing through her. "Fuck," she sighs out sensually, parting your mouths as she's struggling to reciprocate the kiss, too busy focussing on the way you effortlessly slide in another finger, stretching her out perfectly.

"You're doing so well for me," you whisper, mouth moving to the shell of her ear and tone dropping, a slight rasp added to your voice further arouse her. One of her hands shoot up into your hair, messily tangling it into your locks as moans escape her, her hips trying to move a little faster and push her towards her nearing release, fingers gripping tightly making a dull pain wash over you, the action making you groan as the idea of how lost in pleasure she must be goes straight between your thighs.

"Detka," she sighs out, desperation and a hint of embarrassment lacing her tone, too nervous to ask you for what she wants as her hips indicate how close she is, your fingers still steadily thrusting into her and thumb occasionally brushing her clit, hips bucking harder against you. You immediately understand what she's asking for as she gently tugs your head back, lips pressing against yours passionately as she holds you close, back arching further into your body as she sighs into your mouth, a small whine escaping her as she teeters on the edge of her release.

"I've got you," you murmur gently, your free hand moving up her body and to her face, cupping her cheek intimately and deepening the kiss, a moan leaving her at the sheer amount of love you pour into the embrace. "Let go for me," you mumble between kisses, her eyes squeezed shut as pleasure threatens to take over her.

"Y/n," she whispers out sinfully for a final time, body tensing against yours while your mouths refuse to part, muffling the desperate sounds leaving her lips while pleasure wracks through her body. Her legs tense around your body once more, her hands adamant on keeping you close as she keeps your head against hers, foreheads resting against one another as you slow the kisses down, pecking her lips in between laboured breaths. Your fingers slowed inside her, letting her walls clench and spasm around you as she rode out the last waves of her release, her body eventually relaxing in your lap and melting against your comforting body.

Your gentle breath caressed her lips as she eventually opened your eyes, timidly smiling at you and claiming your lips once more in an innocent manner, her adorable expression causing you to reciprocate the action as your free hand moves to glide up and down her back soothingly, fingers pulling out of her when she was ready.

"I'm so proud of you," you whisper with nothing but honesty and care in your words, her cheeks blushing at the way you tenderly gaze at her, her fingers moving to fix your ruffled hair. She smiles at you softly as she tucks a few strands behind your ear, your lips meeting her cheek lovingly as she just wants to bask in the intimate moment for a little longer, the two of you simply locked in a lovers embrace as your arm snakes around her middle.

Many soft words and gentle whispers later, you had managed to convince her into going to the bathroom to get cleaned up, not wanting her to be uncomfortable later and also wash your hands quickly, the brunette blushing at the cocky smirk on your lips as she watches you, proud of yourself for being able to make her feel good and most importantly loved and safe. You let her find herself a new pair of underwear and some new pyjama pants, opting for the pair she first came to you in before searching for a new shirt to wear.

Once she had opted for an old shirt with her favourite sitcom on it, you offered her your hoodie you took off earlier, the jumper being an oversized fit which you knew she loved, Wanda taking it with a wide smile, unable to stop the butterflies in her stomach at how caring you were. She let her nose rest against the collar of it, able to smell your perfume on it as you wrapped your arms around her waist from behind, dramatically falling onto the bed with her in your arms, eliciting an even bigger smile from her and a nose scrunch.

She turned around in your arms so she was facing you as you pulled her body impossibly closer, smiling fondly at the sight of her in your clothes, her leg sliding in between yours to find a more comfortable position to cuddle in as your fingers drew idle patterns against her back.

"Thank you for being so gentle," she whispers a little shyly, your gaze softening more somehow as she moves her fingers to play with the baby hairs at the back of your neck.

"I'll always be gentle with you," you murmur, kissing her temple and letting your lips linger for a minute, building the courage to say what you wanted to. "Thank you for the last week, I've really enjoyed spending time with you," you say, still trying to get to the three words you wanted to confess, her smile growing a little wider at your soft tone.

"Have I convinced you to love Christmas?" she asks curiously, the intimate gaze prolonged as you once again get lost in her eyes, smiling tenderly at her, thinking of how to phrase your words.

"I don't quite love Christmas yet," you whisper out, your words still giving her hope. "But, I...I know I love you," you confess, your heart beating wildly in your chest for the few seconds she doesn't reply, the way her nose scrunches once again in that adorable manner easing the worry of rejection.

"I love you too," she whispers back with fondness lacing her tone, her lips meeting yours once again for an intimate kiss as you can't help but grin into the kiss, a teasing comment finding its way to your lips.

"More than Christmas?" you whisper, earning a soft laugh from her as she moves her face to hide at the crook of your neck, your skin so warm and comfortable, lulling her into a relaxed state.

"More than Christmas," she chuckles out, wrapping her arms around your middle securely, your arms mirroring the action as your lips press a final kiss to the top of her head, the witch amazed at how you, a grinch, managed to steal her heart.

#marvel fanfiction #wanda x reader #eventual smut #wanda maximoff #wanda fanfic #mommy wanda #wanda x you #smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x female reader #12 days of kinkmas #kinkmas #fluff and humor #fluff and romance #12 days of christmas #12 days of ficmas #12 days of smutmas

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paperbackribs · 7 days

Text

tags: steddie, nsfw, the homoeroticism of knowing you could treat them better

🥵🍆💦

"Okay," Robin smirks at Eddie as she pops the open button on the microwave in Steve’s kitchen, "But you understand how pathetically gay you sound right now, yes?" She pulls out a fragrant paper bag of popcorn; she says that she likes to have an extra bag before retiring after one of their movie nights.

Eddie scowls, forgetting that Steve's in the next room as he becomes revved up over a pet peeve that is less pet and more a wild animal, "It's not gay to appreciate a work of art." He gestures wildly, the lights above catch on his heavy silver rings, "It's not gay to understand that a sweet, beautiful boy is tragically unloved."

Robin snorts, pulling open the edges of the paper bag, releasing a plume of buttery steam, "No, pretty sure that's pretty gay. Next thing I know you'll declare 'no homo' while sucking his dick."

"I'd suck his dick better than Brittany or Betta or Betsy or whatever her name was," Eddie declares, sore at the memory of Steve's broken brow as he'd explained that his latest date had ridden his face and then gave him a pat on his shoulder, explaining that it was a nice time but not to expect a callback.

What an idiot, Eddie fumes to himself, neglecting to notice the shifting shadows in the hallway behind him; who doesn't enjoy a man who vehemently and vocally declares his love for going down on his partners? Eddie would kill for a partner willing to suck him dry.

Eddie may have blamed the deficiency on the female of the species, but Steve had allowed Eddie in the inner sanctum a few months ago: letting him know that it wasn’t only Robin and Eddie who were vehement friends of Dorothy, even if it was only Steve who enjoyed the full spectrum of the rainbow. And while B-whatever-her-name-was may be the source of Eddie’s ire right now, he knows that Steve has had likewise lousy luck with men whenever they’d ventured for their weekend nights out to Indy.

Each and every time Eddie had to endure Steve’s sad face a week or two later as he’d admitted that he thought his night’s partner may be up for more than just a brief bit of fun. And each and every time he’s been left dumbfounded because—

Eddie pulls at his hair, trying to work it out because—

Well. He can only imagine that every single person that’s walked away from Steve’s beautiful lips couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a fucking canon with the intelligence left over in their little pea brains. Because Steve Harrington is a goddamn catch and every one of them has let him escape their grasp.

Eddie’s too busy scowling down at his Reeboks to see Robin look over his shoulder and softly laugh. She scoops a handful of popcorn into her mouth as she swiftly leaves the kitchen, calling out, “I’m claiming the spare bedroom tonight—the one at the far end—see ya.”

Eddie looks up at the last minute, wondering at her sudden exit.

The air shifts again but Eddie doesn’t realise it until Steve’s right behind him. "Her name was Bella," Seve says in a low caress, close enough that his warm breath rustles Eddie's loose curls.

He stops, frozen, the touch of Steve's words making Eddie ache for something that he's wanted for such a very long time even as he’s unwilling to allow himself to think that Steve could mean anything by leaning in so close. But he can’t help but shiver, a tiny movement that brings his lips against Steve's sharp jaw, nearly stuttering, "Who?"

Strong arms wrap around him, bringing the broad planes of Steve’s chest against Eddie’s back, blunt fingers coming up to grip his jaw, directing Eddie’s lips to just under Steve’s.

Eddie freezes again in desperation, every single fantasy converging at once to break his brain and body while he tries to understand that the arms, hands and fingers wrapped around him are not an invention of a daydream.

"I’m saying,” Steve says patiently, eyeing Eddie with a dark gaze over his firm grip, "That I want you. Not Brittany or Betta or Betsy."

Eddie swallows around the knot in his throat.

"Just you," Steve repeats, a steady weight holding down his words that has Eddie’s gaze flying up to meet the hard pressure of hazel eyes bearing down on him. A force that has Eddie’s heart knocking heavily against his ribs, his breath shuddering against his frame, pressing taut and bullying against the thin of Eddie’s skin as he meets Steve’s expectant gaze.

And suddenly Eddie is angry.

Furious.

He’s had to endure weeks and months of listening to Steve be sad. Listening to Steve tell of glum exploits where women and men haven’t appreciated his freely-given love. Where it hadn’t mattered how quickly and devotedly Steve would put himself forward, that his partner would pat him on the back and distance him or herself after.

Eddie is furious and he glares at Steve’s beautiful hazel eyes, so close to his own and suddenly wide at the clear fury in Eddie’s eyes. Steve stumbles back, “What…” But Eddie lowers himself decisively, knees falling to the ground with a clear thump and thighs spreading as he knows with a deep conviction that he’s finally interpreting Steve’s actions correctly.

He looks up with dark eyes and presses into the tentative hand that falls against Eddie’s nape; Steve’s brows pull together, doubt drawing at them, “Eddie…”

Eddie glares up at Steve with all the strength of emotion running through him like the swift currents of a river. “No Steve, that’s it. That’s fucking it.”

He determinedly wraps his fingers around the zipper of Steve’s Levi’s and, as Steve chokes out his name again, Eddie glares up at him, daring Steve to take his prize away. “No, I’m done. You’ve given me permission now. You’ve given me a sliver of hope, and you’re not fucking taking it away.”

Eddie swiftly draws down the zipper, pulling down denim and soft cotton until Steve’s already hard cock bobs in front of him and he reaches forward quickly, hand already at its base and mouth open as he’s about to swallow him down but Steve’s hand buries itself in Eddie’s curls, gripping him tight.

“Do you want me?” Steve breathes and Eddie somehow finds it in himself to glower deeper, scowling up at Steve while refusing to speak. Inching forward until the tip of Steve’s cock hovers over Eddie’s open mouth. Steve curses and a heavy pearl of fluid drops from the tip to Eddie’s outstretched tongue. Eyes closing in contentment, he hears Steve choke as Eddie almost hums around the welcome flavour.

“Right,” Steve rasps roughly before pushing forward to rest against Eddie’s lips, he traces the heavy beads from his weeping slit against the petals of his mouth, breath running ragged before pressing further.

Eddie gasps, stretching his lips wide and pushing in and forward to embrace the cock intruding his mouth. His lashes flutter as he finally has the heavy weight of Steve’s cock resting on his tongue, stretching his mouth obscenely open before peering up to check where Steve’s at.

He needn’t have worried because Steve’s own mouth is hanging open with eyes darkly trained on Eddie. “So fucking pretty,” Steve gasps, gripping Eddie’s head to pull him closer. Choking Eddie as he moans, “Yes, fucking, yes, baby. Take it.” And Eddie does. Gratefully. Happily. Fucking swallows and devours and pistons back and forward until the bitter musk dripping from Steve’s dick is greedily consumed, taken within.

Steve cries out, throbbing powerfully and pouring into Eddie. Spilling and overflowing, fucking against his face until beads flood and stream out of his mouth. Eddie lets out a long, guttural and broken sound, grateful for the blessing that Steve fills him with.

He’s so consumed with the feel of Steve in him, surrounding him, that he barely registers the hardness in his own black denim until Steve drops to his knees too, meeting Eddie face to face before falling forward, fingers working his zipper open and mouth swallowing him whole.

Eddie gasps at the sudden sensation of the hot welcoming cavern of Steve’s mouth. He bucks, lightning shooting up his spine and overwhelmed at the attention as he thrusts once, twice and another before shuddering as he releases into Steve’s warm embrace.

Gasping, Eddie’s head falls forward to stare down at Steve in wonderment. In clear awe as he stares down at the beautiful boy in his lap. Mind blissed but still a niggle worries at the back of his mind, enough to have his hand reaching forward to Steve’s face, cupping his cheek and bringing him up to meet Eddie.

“Sweetheart,” the endearment drops from Eddie’s mouth without his permission.

Steve’s lips tug up, spreading in a grin and widening his eyes, “You want me, don’t you?” He asks, almost breathless.

“Yes. Fucking yes.” Eddie has nothing but honesty to his name at this point.

Steve smiles. Smug and fucking so proud of himself. He leans forward, “Then take me,” he whispers.

And Eddie does.

❤️ More steddie here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #paperbackribs writing

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bigification · 2 months

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Jealousy Jealousy

Strong, loyal, dedicated. All words used by the boss to describe me, and every word seemed like a knife in the back of my roommate. I can hear it in the way he talks to me, ever since I joined the military all he ever seems to be is jealous. I've always been stronger and more dedicated than him, he's smarter but that doesn't even matter that much.

The walk back to our room is awkward. It is completely silent and I can almost see the steam coming out of his ears. I wanted so badly to be friends with him, but he makes it impossible. I've always worked out and kept my body in good shape, and apparently that's unforgivable to him.

We get back to our room and he immediately goes rummaging through his stuff. I pace back and forth, debating whether I should talk to him. It's hard living with him and I just want things to be civil between us.

"Hey man, I wanted to ta-" I'm interrupted when he quickly swings around and jabs something into my stomach. I look down and see a needle sticking into the side of my stomach. I feel frozen with fear, I can't talk, almost as if there is something stuck in my throat. I let out a groan as he pushes the end of the needle, injecting a green liquid into my body.

"I'm tired of being in your shadow, let's see how long you'll last after this." He monologues like some cartoon villain. What does he even mean by that, was that some kind of poison? Is he killing me just because the boss likes me more.

I stumble back against the wall, I feel weak but it hurts less than I thought it would. Although my stomach feels like it's boiling.

Am I dreaming... It feels more like a nightmare. But it must be a nightmare. I see a lump form under my shirt, and it seems to grow every time I blink. It can't be real, but it feels so real. The lump grows until it looks like I have a little belly. Do I have a belly? It's growing faster and faster until my shirt becomes untucked. It finally stops after growing into a sizable beer belly, making it impossible for me to see my feet. Maybe he gave me drugs, maybe this is just a bad trip. But it feels so real.

It doesn't end with the beer belly. Next my pecs start to swell. Something I worked so hard on is gone in seconds. I see them soften into a pair of man tits, growing until they press against my shirt. I always swore I would never let myself go like my father did, but I guess that's a lie. At least it took him until his thirties to get fat, I can't even make it to my late twenties without pigging out.

I still have no idea what's happening to me. It's getting harder and harder to think. I was thinking about... Something about pigging out. It must be because I love pigging out, that's how I got this belly.

As I'm trying to think, my body continues to grow. I hear the button on my pants pop off and feel the pressure release. I think my ass is growing, not that I mind. I feel my body being pushed further and further away from the wall as fat spilled into my ass.

Why does my crotch feel so tight? I could have sworn it didn't feel this tight a moment ago. I don't really care anyway, I can't even remember why I should care.

My pants strain against the fat filling my legs, I think I can even hear some rips tearing through them. My arms follow suit, softening up my defined muscles and fattening up my hands. Better off that way if you ask me, fatter hands means better belly rubs, and I like belly rubs.

I feel an itchiness engulf my body as a thick pelt of hair covers my skin. My arms, my legs, my chest, and most importantly my belly become a forest of sweaty hair.

My body finally relaxed and I let out a loud burp. Oh... I'm so hungry. I rub my belly trying to get any relief. It's all I can think of. Wasn't I stressed about something? What would I have been stressed about, maybe I was just hungry.

"How ya feeling big guy?" My roommate asks me.

"I'm so hungry." I cry out.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a diet?" He teases me.

"Why the fuck would I be on a diet. This is the mark of a true man!" I say as I slap my gut.

"Well I'm sure this box of donuts won't hurt your fitness assessment next week, and they won't eat themselves." He pulls out a dozen donuts. It feels like I lose control of my body as I instinctively ravage the donuts.

I lean back after finishing off the last donut and let out a loud burp. God I'm stuffed, but I want so much more. I rub my belly, trying to process the snack I just had, so I can make room for more.

"There's plenty more where that came from, big guy."

Credits to bulkgainer92 for the video and for inspiring this story.

#male tf #male transformation #male wg #fat tf #masculine #hairy #reality change #military tf

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t4tstarrailing · 2 months

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boothill body headcanons

originally the intention was to put this in my general headcanons list once i released those... however, i realized that they'd take up a good 3/4ths of the list, so i'm making a separate post for them.

no content warnings needed, but there are very minor mentions of doing repairs on him. no mentions of reader's gender, all gender neutral.

contains 18+ content. banners by @/cafekitsune.

his body really is state of the art, one of the kind, designed specifically for him. and because of that, he wants to make sure that anyone that touches or offers to do repairs for him understands how his body works. he's prone to doing his own repairs, even if it's a considerably awkward position for him. or he'll put off repairs until he manages to get back to someone who

he can go about a week tops of low energy work before he truly needs to recharge, about 3-4 days if he's doing high intensity hunting or other forms of work. thankfully for him, he has a "low energy mode" similar to how people sleep that helps him conserve energy. while he doesn't recharge in this mode, it does allow his energy reserves to not deplete as quickly.

when/if his charge starts running out, he'll seem more tired and quiet than usual. he'll complain about his joints aching, being slow. his beacon will make him slur words instead of censor them if he tries to cuss. eventually he'll realize what's going on and go plug himself in to charge.

anytime he starts cussing too fast or hard, his beacon eventually won't be able to keep up. so, instead of censoring with compliments, he'll get censored with little beeps and chirps.

he has the ability to change what sounds his body makes. he can make it a heartbeat, his fans whirring, a mechanical purr noise. he likes tinkering with modifications and seeing what he can manage to make his body do without any assistance. just tell him what you'd like to hear from him, and he'll see if he can manage it.

despite his body being state of the art, he unfortunately does still run the risk of overheating. to combat this, he has various coolant reserves around his body and fans that activate once he reaches a certain internal temperature. the coolant is similar to sweat in humans, gleaming on his body, and his ventilation causes him to expand a little bit. think of a short-horned lizard puffing its neck out in defense but, in this situation, it's so boothill can cool himself down.

... it is a bit intimidating, however, especially once the steam starts rolling down his body and he starts snorting it out. he has had bounties piss themselves seeing him in this specific state.

he also can get embarrassed. but he doesn't blush because he no longer has blood. his motors and fans, however, do start whirring faster and louder. and he has to physically keep his vents from raising to avoid further embarrassment.

he's got a couple of lubricant reserves stored around his body that he can easily access. if he finds himself getting stiff, he'll just shoot a bit of lubricant into the joint to get himself nimble again. these lubricants aren't body safe, specifically designed for mechanical engineering.

... he does, however, have body safe lube stored in his throat that he can easily access by a button on his neck. it makes sex much easier for him.

speaking of sex! he doesn't have a dick. or a hole. instead, he has a grind pad. it's a relatively smooth bulge that looks similar to a large tdick but it's defined and there's some small ridges up and down it. the specific spot is highly sensitive for him, able to orgasm from stimulation (frotting because his favorite) with it, and able to make it vibrate as he wants.

that being said, he does have options. there are a few usb ports on his side that allows him to connect custom sex toys that let him feel whatever you do to them. dildos, holes, you name it, he can probably find it. there's also bluetooth that gives him the option of connecting sex toys to him, but he's a bit hesitant with that option specifically since he's had some... interesting experiences with them.

yes, because he has multiple usb ports, he can technically fuck himself if you plug in a dildo and a hole toy at the same time. yes, he has tried this before. yes, he does do it every once in a blue moon. but because of how exhausting and draining it is for him, it's something that he rarely offers up.

there a certain parts of his body that are sensitive, and they tend to match the erogenous zones for normal human bodies. his inner thighs are especially sensitive, especially closer to his crotch area. so sensitive that it's possible he can cum just from being overstimulated by touch in this area, including from repairs. in general, when he has repairs that need to be made in this area, he does his best to avoid having anyone else help make them.

speaking of repairs, following his repair sessions, that specific spot that he needed to repair can be overly sensitive. most of the time he'll cover it with a bandage to avoid rubbing it against anything. but if he's feel a bit ornery, he may just ask you to "help me recover from my repairs". of course he isn't gonna push it if you say no, but he most definitely will ask if he's feeling a bit playful.

some cyborgs will use a USB port to upload a virus into their system that puts them into overdrive, similar to an incredibly strong aphrodisiac. they tend to last for a couple of hours. yes, he has used them. yes, he frequently uses them when he wants to have a marathon sex session. yes, they have caused him to short circuit and almost shutdown before.

#—the snake writes #hsr boothill #boothill #hsr boothill x reader #boothill x reader #yeah sure i'll throw it in the x reader tags #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader

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secret-sturniolo · 2 months

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trouble in paradise - matt sturniolo

-one bed/enemies to lovers trope. CONTAINS SMUT! (1.9k words)

warnings - lowkey asshole!matt, arguing, unprotected p in v (pull out method not recommended), pussy eating, fingering

a/n - will this be my writing comeback?

tillies33ssss

"Y/n, please! We're gonna have so much fun, I promise!"

I was laying in Nick's bed as he desperately tried to convince me to come on this trip. The boys go to Hawaii every year, and this year he wanted me to tag along. Of course I was skeptical. Being stuck on a tropical island for a week with my best friend didn't seem so bad, but when one of his brothers hated me? I wasn't so sure. After a few days of convincing though, I made up my mind. How bad could it be, right?

(time skip - 10pm @ the hotel)

"You're fucking kidding, right?"

While in a particularly good mood, I agreed to room with Matt. At least we would each have our own bed, we didn't even have to talk to each other. Until we scanned the card to unlock our room, revealing the single king bed against the wall.

My heart dropped. "This has to be a sick joke." I say, my eyes wide.

After calling both Nick and Chris and the front desk, it was revealed that there had been a mix up with the reservations. The cherry on top, though? The hotel was fully booked. Not a single extra room was available we could switch to, leaving reality to sink in.

I try to keep a level head, knowing Matt was on edge. I move around the room silently so as not to give him any reason to be angry. I watch as he flops onto the bed.

"Have fun sleeping on the floor." He says, expressionless.

I scoff. "You're not serious, right? There's no way you're making me sleep on the dirty hotel floor."

He relaxes his arms behind his head, closing his eyes. He was clearly ignoring me. I let out a small laugh in disbelief.

"Matt, come on. Now you're just being childish."

He opens his eyes, not moving. "Oh, I'm being childish? You're the one who throws a fit every time something doesn't go your way!" He shoots back at me.

"I didn't come to Hawaii to sleep on the floor!" I say, my frustration growing.

Matt sits up harshly, his eyes boring into mine. "You shouldn't even be here at all!" He yells, his words sharp as a knife.

My jaw drops as I take a step back, surprised by his sudden outburst.

"Why were you even invited on this trip?" he continues. "Seriously, I'd like to know. Because it sure as hell wasn't by me!"

I feel my chest tighten, tears welling in my eyes as he yells. I begin to speak, but he cuts me off.

"Oh, are you gonna cry now?" he taunts. "Grow up."

I clench my jaw, grabbing a room key and my phone as I walk toward the door.

"Let me know when you're done being an asshole." I say before slamming the door behind me.

I wander down the hotel hallways like a labyrinth before finding the elevator. I ride down the the first floor, the lobby was empty as most people were sleeping already. I sign on the wall points to an exit. I follow the path, leading me to a small outdoor spa area. Underwater lights lit up the hot tub, curls of steam rising into the cool night air. I slip off my shoes, sitting on the edge of the tub as my feet dangle into the water.

"What is wrong with me?" I whisper to myself, letting a tear slip from my eye. Was he right, should I really not have come? I think about texting Nick, but I figured he was asleep, tired from the jet-lag. I sit in silence as time slips by, letting my thoughts and doubts spiral.

I open my phone, typing a search into google. The screen displays a list of flights, my eyes scanning down the page. There was one flight tomorrow morning, showing 3 seats left. My finger lowers to tap the purchase button before my phone is swiped out of my hand.

"What?!" I jump, looking up. "Matt? What the fuck are you doing?" I say harshly.

He frowns at my screen. "You're leaving." He says, more of a statement than a question.

I reach for my phone back. "Yeah, I was trying to!" I shoot back, clearly annoyed.

Matt's eyes widen slightly at my serious tone. "You're actually serious?" He still holds my phone away from me.

I stare at him, not trying to hide the hurt on my face. "I thought that's what you wanted."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Look y/n, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"Then why did you say it if you didn't mean it?"

He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "Because I was overwhelmed and tired, and I took it out on whoever happened to be near me."

I sit quietly, not buying his excuse. I hear him sigh as he slips his own shoes off, sitting down next to me.

"Why do you hate me so much?" I blurt out.

I hear him take a deep breath as he tries to collect himself.

"I never hated you, y/n." he pauses. "It's actually kinda the opposite."

I look over at him, confused. "What?"

He kicks the water, sending ripples of small waves into the hot tub.

"You make me feel things I'm scared to feel."

I freeze, wondering if I heard him correctly. "Like what...?" I ask cautiously.

He hesitates for a moment, fidgeting with his fingers. "Like... attraction."

My heart beats faster as I nod slowly, acknowledging his words. My thoughts race, as everything I thought I knew was suddenly changing. He speaks again, nervously.

"It's stupid, I know. I'm just scared that if I let myself feel those things, I'll lose you." He looks down into the water.

I let out a small laugh, grabbing his hand softly as I intertwine our fingers. "I've stuck around this long. I don't think that would change anything."

I watch as he looks down at our hands that rest on his thigh, smiling softly with a small breath of relief.

"I don't want us to hate each other anymore, y/n." He says honestly.

I squeeze his hand. "I don't think we ever did."

A warm blush spreads to his cheeks as he meets my gaze. He leans in closer, pausing briefly to gauge my reaction. I close the gap, our lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss. Our lips seem to fit together like a mold. Matt brings hi hands up to cup my cheek, my own hands resting on his shoulders as we get lost in each other. Desire surges through us before I pull away, my lips slightly parted.

Matt smiles softly, still blushing. " We should probably get out of here, right?" He stands, offering me his hand.

I nod, giggling softly as I take his hand. I let him lead me back through the hotel, up to our room on the third floor. He pulls me into the room, kicking the door shut with his foot. He smiles softly at me before pulling me back in, his lips meeting mine once again, passionate and needy.

His hands wander from my cheeks to my waist, down to my ass, and back up. I sense his desire as I pull away slightly to slide my t-shirt over my head, revealing my simple, black lace bra. His head immediately ducks down, planting wet kisses on my exposed skin. I sigh at the feeling, before urgently tugging at the hem of his own shirt, which was quickly discarded. He tugs down his sweats before walking me backwards to the bed, laying me down gently.

He makes quick work of slipping my shorts down, tossing them away. His eyes rake over my body hungrily.

"God, you're beautiful." He mumbles loud enough for me to hear, causing my cheeks to redden.

He leans over me, his fingers hooked into my underwear. "Can I take these off?" He asks gently.

I nod quickly, desperate for his touch. He pulls them down my legs teasingly slow. I lean up, simultaneously unclasping my bra, leaving me bare before him. His thumb reaches down to rub slow, tentative circles over my clit.

"Matt, please!" I beg, causing him to smirk.

He grabs my legs, sliding my body to the edge of the bed as he brings his mouth down to my core. I feel his hot breath against me as he teasingly kisses my sensitive nub. Using the tip of his tongue, he flicks back and forth, eliciting a soft moan from my lips.

He takes this as a signal to continue, thrusting his tongue into me. He groans as he finally tastes me, sending pleasant vibrations into me. I throw my head back, tangling my fingers in his hair, giving it a tug when it feels especially good.

"Oh, fuck!" I let out a gasp as he suddenly enters a finger into me, thrusting it while he continues to lick my clit.

My legs shake, squeezing against him as my orgasm bubbles in my stomach. I let out a loud moan, a string of curses leaving my mouth as I come undone. Matt continues for a few moments, letting me ride out my high before pulling away, licking his lips with a sly smile. I open my mouth to speak, but his lips are back on mine before I get the chance.

Without breaking the kiss, I feel him reach down to pull his boxers up. I hear a faint slapping sound as his erection hits his stomach. I pull away, looking between us at his dick, dripping pre-cum.

"Do you want this...?" He asks me, seriously.

"More than anything." I reply honestly.

He smiles, sitting back as me pulls my legs once again, letting them rest on his shoulders. I places his hand under my chin.

"Spit."

I give him a confused look, but I quickly oblige as his eyes pierce mine. He uses my spit as a lubricant, slowly stroking his dick as he looks into my eyes.

"Matt..." I urge him.

He nods knowingly, lining himself up with my entrance. He doesn't take his eyes off of mine as he pushes into me, giving me a chance to get used to the stretch. After a few seconds, I give him the okay to move.

His pace starts off slow and sensual, attaching his lips to my neck. Upon my request, he picks up the pace, finding a comfortable rhythm. His forehead rests against mine as he thrusts into me, our lips meeting every once in a while in a quick kiss.

The only sounds leaving our mouths are soft, breathy moans. We didn't need to use words, it was like we could reach each other like a book. Matt changes the angle slightly, causing his tip to hit me in just the right spot.

"Yes, Matt. Right there!" I feel myself getting close once again, my walls squeezing around him.

"Come for me, baby." Matt breathes against my neck.

After a couple more thrusts, my second orgasm comes crashing over me like a wave. Matt isn't far behind me, quickly pulling out and cumming on my stomach with a grunt.

He collapses on top of me, both of us sweaty and tired. After a few minutes, he props himself up on either side of me, smiling down at me in adoration.

"You're incredible." He tells me, causing me to giggle slightly.

"Yeah, we're definitely doing that again."

He kisses me, and in that moment I knew I was right. This was only the beginning.

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo angst #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #secret sturniolo

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shotmrmiller · 3 months

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im ngl i've been driving myself insane with the thought of harboring Ghost in your home. Like in the 09 mission The Hornet's Nest where Roach falls off the one roof?

Yeah, make that Ghost and there's no other choice but for the guys to leave him behind. The LZ is too hot, the enemies are swarming like moths to a flame.

The floor comes to him.

He grits his teeth at the agony, choking back a scream. Ghost just fell off a height that should've broken at least a couple ribs; maybe they did, he doesn't know, there's too much adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He's seeing duplicates, the buildings in front of him blurred. There's buzzing in his head, loud like bees. His chest aches, it burns with the lack of oxygen. His throat feels swollen as he wheezes; each breath feels like shards of glass in his lungs.

The white noise dissipates slowly. His vision realigns, lines and details sharpening. The unseen force that squeezed his throat finally lets go, setting him free from its deadly hold., his chest expanding to the point of discomfort— deep inhale, loud exhale.

Breathe. Focus.

There's radio chatter in his ear— Price snarling at Nikolai to fucking wait, that they can't leave him there in the hornet's nest but even with his vision blurred, Ghost can see that they're getting lit up, and he's not gonna have the entire team blow to bits in the helo over him.

He's just one man, and there's a whole world to save.

There's a searing pain in his arm when he shifts, he can't remember the last time his eyes welled up with tears, but fuckin' hell does it hurt.

His hand trembles violently, and it takes him a couple of tries to finally get his thumb to firmly press down on the button of the radio in the front of his tac vest.

"Leave me! Just go!" he roars.

Price argues back that no man is to be left behind, but Ghost can hear far too many voices in a different language get louder. They'll be killed hovering in the air like that.

"Price! Go!"

The voices in his ear are deafening. He rips off his headset, letting it sit around his neck.

The helicopter above him disappears.

Good.

The avalanche of footsteps gets closer and with a strangled noise that scrapes the back of his throat, he moves. Move to safety, get away from them, hide.

Ghost pushes forward until he stumbles, falling onto one knee— using his injured arm to stabilize. White hot pain licks from the wrist up, flames threatening to consume him whole.

A few stray tears escape the corners of his eyes.

He's too blinded by the throbbing in his body to realize that someone is grabbing his other arm.

"Can you hear me?"

Ghost thinks he might be hallucinating your voice. His agony is transcendent.

"Hey! We don't have much time!"

He turns his head to his left, and there you are. A civilian, by the looks of it. And you're trying to lead him away. Where? Are you leading him to a trap?

"Quickly! They're almost here! I can hide you, but you need to get on your feet!" you piped.

Ghost gets up without a fight, decision-making dulled by everything he's feeling.

"Come on, this way!" Your hand grabs his forearm tightly as you drag him away. He trudges behind you, breathing ragged.

Clarity comes and goes, but then he feels your small palms push him forward, into your tiny home.

His eyes drag as he takes in his surroundings. A tiny television in the living room to his left, and an ugly brown couch placed in front of it. To this right is your kitchen, food still steaming on the stove, and a scratched teak dinner table with just two chairs sits by a dirty window.

Quaint.

"Okay, okay. They shouldn't come in here, but if they do, I want you to go to the bathroom and sit in the tub with the curtain closed. Understand?"

His chin tips forward unbidden.

"Good. Uhm, I saw that your right arm is injured. A makeshift splint will have to do, alright?" You briskly walk away, opening the cabinet underneath the kitchen sink.

Ghost stiffens, swallowing thickly. If you pull anything underhanded, he's going to have to kill you.

The tension melts from his shoulders when he sees that you're simply pulling out a first aid kit, and some other stuff to wrap his most likely broken arm up.

You pull out a chair before opening the kit. "Sit. I'm not standing while I do this."

He huffs but complies. "Yes, ma'am." Unafraid to order a stranger around. How peculiar.

The minutes drag on, each one more agonizing than the last. It's a relentless cycle of pain... until it finally stops. The residual pain makes him dry heave.

"Whoa there, please don't puke."

Ghost gives a pained chuckle. "I'll try."

Your fingers tighten the knot in the fabric. "Can't say it's pristine, but it's better than having your arm dangle uselessly, I think." You stare at your handiwork for a second longer, before rising from your seat.

"I'm not sure who you are, but you look like actual military and not a thug with a gun. Did you have a team?" you quietly ask as you put away the medical supplies.

He cuts his eyes to you and doesn't answer.

"Yeah, I suppose it wouldn't be smart of you to blindly give information I don't need to know."

He shakes his head imperceptibly.

"Right. Well, I'm sure you know that we need to lay low, so unfortunately, that means no tv. Sorry." How cheeky.

Ghost simply hums in response.

He looks down at his injured arm. It's wrapped tightly, enough to keep it from moving but not enough to cut off his blood flow.

Not the work of a regular civilian.

You must've noticed him scrutinizing your work because you speak up. "I've worked in the medical field before. Nothing spectacular, but I can deal with a broken bone or two."

He closes his eyes, feeling the exhaustion of the day creep up on him.

So bloody tired.

Ghost takes a breath and opens his eyes. No rest for the wicked, he thinks.

He puts his headset back on, as well as he can with his one arm.

There's a crackling sound in his ear.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon riley

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 5 months

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Tell Me You Like It

20/12: Sharing a Drink & Toys - modern!Aemond Targaryen Word Count: 1.7k~ | Warnings: use of toys, p in v sex, overstim, choking, pussy slapping

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

Hands clasped with elbows rested on the table, she fiddles with the clasp of her watch on her left hand, her body tight with nerves.

The restaurant has a warm aura, with amber lighting decorating each table and windows that stretch across the width of the area. Being winter, it’s dark outside already, but with the amount of bodies and the remnants of steam that come into the space when the kitchen door opens, it’s pleasantly warm where she sits.

Mumbling, quiet chatter surrounds her as she sits alone at her table, waiting for Aemond to return from the bathroom before the starters arrive.

She raises her head as Aemond slides back into his seat, an involuntary smile making its way to her face as her eyes rake over him, wearing a black button down with a few at the top undone and the way the sleeves cling to his biceps never fails to make her smile. As usual, his hair is up and out of his face, looking shockingly casual compared to the way he’s dressed for their date.

She blushes when he gives her that signature smirk, one hand stuffed into his pocket.

“Aemond”, she warns teasingly before she jolts so hard in her seat she nearly loses grip on her champagne glass. She presses her lips together to keep quiet, briefly looking around to see if anyone is watching as the vibrating egg inside her begins on its lowest setting.

She opens her eyes to see Aemond’s smug expression that doesn’t waver with the pointed one she gives him.

“What’s wrong, baby? You look…flustered”, he grins, switching it back off, concealing the remote inside the pocket his hand is currently shoved into.

Fucking bastard.

He’d suggested this as well, having bought the item to spice things up in public.

But now she realises it was just another way for him, 1. To entertain himself and 2. To watch her fall apart in a different, forbidden way.

But before she can reprimand him, the waiter drops by with their starters. She puts on a polite smile, side-eyeing Aemond across the table as he continues to smirk. Hell, even the waiter, as he refills their champagne, seems to feel the tension between them both. And therefore leaves shortly afterwards.

He doesn't activate the vibrator throughout the next course, mercifully. The silence filled with idle chatter between the two of them.

“Got a new client this week”, he mentions idly as she wraps some pasta around her fork.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she’s got unrealistic expectations of course, and wants us to go on a business trip-.”

She raises her head, swallowing whatever was in her mouth, “She?”

Aemond all but smirks, as if he’d got the reaction he’d wanted.

Her eyes roll to the back of her head as she tuts, “If you’re trying to make me jealous, it won’t work.”

“Hm,” he chuckles lowly, stabbing at his food, “why would I be trying to make you jealous?”

“Because you’re a di-ah! Aemond!” she whisper-shouts, not realising he’s reached into his pocket again, the vibrating sensation between her legs has a warmth descending there from her gut, and she can feel herself moistening after hours and hours of teasing the device on and off.

She pressed her mouth closed when she realised she perhaps moaned a little too loudly, some of the other patrons sitting around them even turned their heads.

Once the vibrating stopped, she threw yet another glare at Aemond, “Because, you’re a dick.”

“A dick you love.”

She cocks her head, “Hm.”

It was pure divine intervention when the waiter finally came to clear away their plates.

“Dessert?” Aemond asked with a honey-like tone, one eyebrow raised mischievously as he ramped up the vibrator yet again, enjoying the way you moved your hips to alleviate the sensation.

Seven fucking Hells, I am going to kill this man.

Every moment was sweet torture.

The taxi home. The short walk up to his house. And he hadn’t stopped fucking smirking the entire way.

The front door closed, and within a millisecond, a loud thud has her back pressed against the door, Aemond’s lips and tongue prying hers open with his large hands running up and down her body, gripping tightly where he wants to devour her the most.

“I wonder…how wet you are…after teasing you all night, hm?”

She gasps against his lips as his hand dips beneath her dress, near-ripping the lacy underwear she’d worn that evening aside to swipe two digits over her sopping folds, revelling in the tiny, soft whimper she lets out at finally being touched.

“Fuck - baby. Just begging for it, aren’t you?”

“Aemond, please-” she begs, hand clenching around the fabric gathered at his chest, grinding her hips down against his fingers, “-need you.”

“Need what? Say it.”

The way he says that makes her want to jump on him then and there.

“Need you to fuck me-” she huffs out almost annoyed, trying to hook her leg around his hip.

He’s tempted to reach into his pocket, tease her more, and see how pathetic he can get her. But she’s so fucking wet, he doesn’t think he can even wait for that, proven by how hard he’s been ever since they both sat down for dinner. She whines pleasantly as his lips ghost over her neck, the tender, sensitive skin in open-mouthed kisses.

“Well, when you say it like that.” he muses hotly.

She squeals in surprise when he lifts her, using his knee to push the bedroom door open and dropping her onto his bed, her body bouncing briefly before she looks up to find him crawling on top of her, with that look in his eye.

The look when she knew she was in trouble.

He pulls off her underwear with ease, tossing them aside before diving between her thighs again, “Relax, baby…”

She shudders as he gently pulls the vibrating egg free, embarrassment creeping up her neck when she feels just how wet she really is after his incessant teasing.

“Fucking hell - such a slut-” he punctuates the word with a harsh, wet slap to her core, smirking at the way she visibly jolts, a moan slipping past her lips.

His other hand naturally hugs her throat, tugging her hedonistic gaze up to him while he massages her bud slowly with the aid of her slick, “look at you - such a greedy girl-”

She hears the clinking of metal as Aemond pulls his belt through the loops of his smart trousers, the whipping sound for some reason making excitement run hot through her veins. Aemond doesn't take any clothes off, other than pushing whatever is in the way past his hips to pull his hard and weeping length from his boxers, stroking himself slowly.

Nor is he particularly bothered about undressing her either. It appears she's not the only one that's been pent up.

She smiles a bit at that, his hand still snug around her neck.

“Don't know what you're smiling for-”

His expression goes all cold. And she's about to reply when her lips part in a breathy moan as Aemond sheathes himself inside her, slowly splitting her on his length until he reaches the fleshy end of her, tipping his head back at the feeling of her warmth squeezing him so tightly.

It feels utterly erotic to fuck like this with all your clothes still on, but that's the furthest thing from either of their minds right now as Aemond starts, at first, a slow and gently pace. He looks down between them, jaw slack, enamoured with the way his cock is glazed with her essence every time he pulls out of her to push back in, her fleshy insides moulding around him.

“fuck - baby, you're making such a mess on me-”

With the intensity of his thrusts, the pressure his hand applies around her neck is somewhat tighter in a way that has her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

So much so she almost doesn't notice as he reaches into the bedside table.

“You're much too quiet.”

Her eyes practically fly open as Aemond uses his body to widen her legs slightly, smirking as he presses his body into her, and yet another vibration is heard. But louder and more rapid.

That's nothing compared to the sensation when he presses the wand to her clit, the two sensations making it all borderline unbearable.

“Ah - fuck, Aemond-”

She realises now that she's a mess, clutching the sheets, her face and neck all hot and a soft sheen of sweat over her body. Aemond's hips smack against her bare thighs, increasing in vigour, his cock effortlessly finding that sensitive spot inside her with her legs slightly elevated.

That combined with the way he holds the wand to her, makes her stomach clench, an orgasm creeping up on her frighteningly fast.

“Aemond - oh gods-”

He chuckles darkly, “fuck, love it when you're all desperate for me. You gonna cum for me, hm?”

All she can do is nod quickly, not trusting her words with Aemond fucking her so relentlessly into the mattress, forming the shape of him inside her.

He doesn't stop as she wets his cock with her release, her thighs shaking around him and fingers cramping as she fists the sheets. And with every blow to her sweet spot as her peak rolls through her, it's agonising in the sweetest way possible.

“That's it…”

A tight, hot feeling grips her when she cracks her tired eyes open, the force of her orgasm after hours of torture just being all too much, and sees that Aemond has lost no momentum.

He looks so good like this, head tipped back, lips parted, fucking her into oblivion.

And yet, the overwhelming buzz to her oversensitive clit and the moist smack of his cock being buried into her, brings her back to earth, with wanton, exhausted moans.

“Aemond-”

She can tell he's out of breath as he raises his gaze to her, smiling with his cheeks pink.

“Give me another one.”

“But-”

“I said, give me another one.”

With a harsh press of the vibrator to her clit, she sobs in pleasure, feeling weightless, knowing that she will give him as many as he wants, until he's done with her.

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s-brant · 10 months

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With his pregnant wife with ordered to rest by the maesters until her labors begin, Aemond must find new ways of entertaining her.

4k (18+)

Warnings: smut, p in v, hair-pulling, come swallowing, strong language, and pregnancy. this can be read as a stand alone or part three to Judas.

Pregnancy has coaxed out a new side of Aemond.

Of course, he had always been protective and caring, even when he was trying to stifle his feelings for her in the first few months of their union, but once she was with child, it intensified. From having the handmaidens tend to her every minute of every day to insisting upon following her around as though he is one of the royal guards assigned to protect her. It is always toned down in the presence of others due to his general discomfort with public displays of affection, but everyone noticed his constant proximity to her whenever he wasn't attending to his duties as a prince.

"You needn't breathe down my neck, I am quite capable of doing this myself," she said when he had once insisted upon helping her bathe once she got into the late stages of her pregnancy.

Truth be told, she did appreciate his incessant caregiving, but when caregiving shifted into being treated as though she was weak, that positive mindset soured slightly. Still, she rolled her eyes and allowed him to help her into the sunken tub filled with steaming hot water and bathing oil that gave off an aromatic lavender scent. He could tell that underneath it all, there was a part of her that enjoyed being looked after. A part of her that reveled in the protective nature he allowed to take control once her belly began to swell noticeably with his child.

The maesters suspect she will go into labor at any moment and insisted upon her getting bed rest during the day in preparation for it. So, that is what she has been doing all day long, and it threatens to drive her mad.

"Truly, how much more needlework and reading can I do? I have read nearly every book in the library at this point. Can you not escort me to the Dragonpit to visit Vermithor?" Y/N asks Aemond from where she lays back against the headboard with a hand cradling her round belly.

Clad in nothing but her shift to keep herself from sweating in the summer heat, she is left with nothing to do, and in her ill-tempered mood, she has resorted to begging her husband for his assistance. Unfortunately for her, Aemond is equally as cautious regarding her condition as the maesters. The very last thing he would do is encourage her to exert herself with a trip to the Dragonpit.

He offers her a stern look as he dresses for the day in the morning light that shines on his half-nude figure. The eyepatch he wears in the presence of everyone else sits on the table behind him, allowing her to admire how the sapphire eye glitters in the sun. While he cuts her a commanding stare, she trails her eyes down the length of him. The shade of his skin is strikingly pale against the warm colors decorating their shared chambers, only shadowed in the areas where skin dips into muscles to emphasize the strong lines of his abdomen. And, of course, he notices the hunger that is present in her gaze but says nothing about it.

"I cannot escort you anywhere outside these rooms, ābrazȳrys." Wife. "Tis my babe inside of you. If the maesters order you to rest, your duty commands you to listen."

He doesn't miss how her eyes follow the movement of his hands as they button his trousers. Filthy little thing, she is. His suspicions are confirmed by the smirk she gives him when she next speaks.

"Perhaps you could distract me some other way?" She hooks a finger around the hem of her shift to lift it slowly up her thighs. A muscle in his jaw tightens at the sight of her baring herself to him without anything to protect her modesty. "You know, I heard the strangest thing from Nyla"—one of their handmaidens—"a day ago. She said that a healer she once met told her that coupling with one's husband can induce childbirth."

Aemond stares at her with predatory intent, as though he's considering it for a moment, then shakes his head. Although they have pleasured one another in other ways, they have not had sex since her bump began showing. It was already scandalous for them to continue their marital duties after the pregnancy was confirmed, to do so when she's heavily pregnant would be even worse.

"We have been through this," he says. "It is not proper."

She does not miss a beat.

"Says who?"

Neither does he.

"The maesters, along with every other upstanding person of noble birth such as ourselves." He pauses, then says before she gets the chance to, "Aegon excluded."

A wry laugh escapes his dear wife at this, and she can't help how the beautiful sound is cut short by the feeling of the babe kicking her palm. Those pretty eyes go wide as she reaches out with her other hand in an invitation for him to come to her. Based upon the panic that flashes across his face, though, he must mistake her excitement for fear. A fraction of a second later, he's already at her side before she can hear the heavy footfalls on the floor.

"What is it?" he asks, throat constricted with terror.

She smiles at him. It's a lovely, placating type of smile, and it washes away every worry present in his head when he sees it. Wordlessly, she takes his hand, calluses and rough from sword fighting, in hers and places it on the top of her bump where the movement can be felt.

"Feel," she whispers.

Her fingers mold overtop of his to keep his flattened palm pressed down on her. Beneath both the linen fabric of her shift and her warm skin he feels it.

"He must be coming soon. He's in the right position for birthing."

Then, her head tilts back to allow her to look up at him in on. It's unfathomable to her— the fact that a child is dwelling within. Not only a child but their child. She can't help but wonder what they will look like or which one of them they will favor. It's all too easy to picture what she may see as soon as a few days or weeks from now. Aemond, half-dressed as he is now, with their newly-born son resting against his chest as they lay together in the quiet of their rooms. The babe will look so small, so fragile and new, when cradled against his Kepa's larger body. And when she pictures that, she feels complete in a way she never has before.

It seems that he is having similar feelings when his eyes light up at her hopeful declaration. What she doesn't know is that he is imagining the very same thing, yet reversed. His mind conjures the image of their days-old daughter suckling at her breast, making soft coping noises throughout. Although he has never known himself to be the tender-hearted type, that thought warms him to the bone.

He rubs the spot where the babe kicked as though to soothe it in the only way they'll understand at this point in their development. No spoken words or language yet, just the communication of touch. The same instinctual form of communication animals use to soothe their children. The touch is firm yet soothing. Constant in a way that one's father should always be yet rarely ever is. It says, "Kepa is here. Don't fret. We will meet you soon."

"She," he starts, meeting her gaze with a stoic face, "will come tomorrow. Helaena told me so when we dined with mother last night."

Her eyes narrow.

"Helaena, I believe. However, you, dearest, are not a dreamer. You cannot know the babe is a girl. I, on the other hand, can sense it. We will have a male heir. One whose birthright will never be disputed as mine has been."

The part about wanting a male heir out of fear for their claim to the throne being challenged causes his mouth to shift into an imperceptible frown. Most people do not know how to read those changes in his expression, but she can. Since her pregnancy began, she has become well-versed in his non-verbal cues. For now, he bypassed the worry she so vulnerably laid before him. That is a matter they can discuss later.

He asks, head tilting slightly in curiosity, "You can sense it?"

"Yes, of course," she says and weaves her fingers into his to hold his hand. "There is such a thing as motherly intuition."

To this, he hums quietly, and it's such a distinctly him thing to do that she finds herself fighting a smile.

"If motherly intuition does, in fact, exist, why would my intuition as her father be any less accurate?"

She stifles a laugh at this, easily recognizing from his tone that he is merely teasing her. Something he never once pictured himself doing with his eventual wife. A marriage of duty was what he anticipated, yet this is far from it. He realizes right now that he would do anything for her. He would die for her if it came to that, but not just because their wedding vows brought her under his protection and Daemon would hunt him to the ends of the earth should anything happen to her. It's because he cares.

Y/N cups the bottom of his chin in her free hand and forces him a bit closer to say, "Because I am your very pregnant, very ill-tempered wife, and I said so. If you dare to question my authority, I may be inclined to use your knife on you again." There's a pause. "Also, while I have your obedience, I would like to dine with the family tonight one last time before our son arrives."

Although they both know they are jesting, Aemond's eye darkens the second she calls him obedient.

"If you were not carrying my daughter, I would bend you over my knee for that."

It's wholly true, and she knows that. He did it once before but knew the whole time she was simply allowing it to occur as a result of her own sexual gratification. He knew that if she wanted, she would break free and have him fleeing her wrath on Dragonback.

She smirks and pulls him closer until their lips nearly brush.

"Don't say those things if you are refusing to fuck me. It is cruel," she whispers. "It arouses me, and you know I cannot satisfy myself the way you can."

His body goes still in the wake of her brazen confession.

Knowing she has him right where she wants him, she decides to hammer the idea home. The strap of her shift has "accidentally" fallen from her shoulder as she kisses him just long enough to entice but not satisfy.

"Lest you've forgotten, the maesters told me to wait five weeks after the birth to allow myself to heal before taking you to bed again." The tremble in his exhale brings a triumphant gleam to her eyes, and she pulls her mouth back out of reach to tease him as he leans in to kiss her. "It would be a pity to waste such precious time, would it not?"

Their lips brush, and the hand that holds his chin breaks away to palm at his half-hard cock through his trousers. It swells eagerly beneath her touch after ages of restraint and self-pleasure, growing harder by the second until he is fully, painfully needing her.

"Come," she says and spreads her legs in invitation. "What the maesters tell you is largely myth and outdated theories. The babe will remain unharmed."

At last, the patience of her devoted husband runs thin, and he is unable to stop himself from kissing her with an unashamed lust that indicates she will be getting what she wants. The suspicion is proven true when he kneels on the mattress between her legs to crawl onto her without breaking the passionate, open-mouthed kiss shared between them. But before he can try to settle his weight atop her and prevent her from reaching for his trousers, she finds the waistband with fumbling hands. This halts him for just the right amount of time—long enough for her to undo the button and push the clothing, along with his small clothes, down his slender hips.

The disappointment he feels at her refusal to allow him to bury his fingers or head between her thighs in hopes that she will be satisfied without penetration is visible on his face. Yet he says nothing. In truth, he cannot do anything to stop this. If he truly did not wish to fuck her, it would be easy to deny her. The issue at hand is that he does wish to, and now that his cock is being pumped in her hand as he stares down at her pleading eyes, it no longer matters to him what is proper or not.

It's when she starts to guide him to her sweet cunt that he realizes that she would have had the chance to thwart his sabotaging efforts no matter how quickly she pulled his trousers down. What halts them in their tracks is the protruding belly, larger than it was the last time he took her to bed, preventing him from laying comfortably against her.

This would be the perfect opportunity for him to redirect himself back to his original intentions, but, instead, he says, "Turn over."

Her cheeks burn hot at this, at the sheer commanding nature of his words, before she obliges him. She turns over cautiously to avoid falling on her stomach and settles into a semi-comfortable position on her hands and knees, back arched just so to present herself to him. Though she cannot see it, he smiles.

His voice is soft yet stern when he next speaks.

"Down onto your arms," he says. "It will feel better that way."

She stares daggers at him over her shoulder and asks, half jesting, half jealous, "We have never done it this way, so how would you know, husband?"

Aemond rolls his eye at her dramatics.

"You already know, now do as I command."

He isn't wrong. They've been quite honest with one another about their past transgressions with members of the opposite sex, although hers was little more than a shy peck on the cheek while his were, well...Aegon took him to a brothel on his thirteenth name day, that much she knew before they were wed due to her eldest uncle's loose lips, but what no one else knows, save for her, is that he had a few lovers. Likely a result of the time he was taken to a brothel, he never sought his pleasure out with whores.

It began accidentally. He didn't intend to fuck a widowed lady in court, but it happened, and he was glad it was her. From then on, he followed the rules unintentionally set by his first time after the brothel. The first rule, of course, was to never lie with a maiden to prevent ruining her reputation and being forced to marry below his station as consequence.

The second was to never go back to the same woman more than a few times. This kept his time with them to a minimum and prevented any of his lovers from forming delusional attachments. Another rule was to never kiss them, and, the last, most important one was to never finish inside them. Though she was overwhelmed with jealousy upon first starting this conversation with him, his explanation for the last rule did well to soothe her.

It did not matter whether he chose to fuck whores in brothels or older women of noble birth, no one but his wife deserves the seed of a dragon prince. He would not dishonor her by fathering a bastard, he explained. Not like his brother did many times to poor, sweet Helaena.

So, she does already know that his skill at pleasing her comes from his experiences with the older women who now have husbands again, who sometimes try to meet his gaze as they pass to no avail. Still, it doesn't make her less jealous, nor does it make teasing him any less fun.

Y/N hardly has the time to shift her weight down onto her forearms before he nudges his cock into her with his hands gripping her full hips until his knuckles turn white.

"Aemond!" she cries out in surprise at the sudden intrusion, but it soon gives way to a soft giggle. Her explanation comes seconds later, once she has regained her composure. "I will hear no complaints of me forcing myself on you later. You are just as responsible."

The first few motions of his hips pushing in and away from her are tentative, holding back when his fingers brush her belly to remind him of her condition. In spite of his guilt for doing this, it feels too good to stop after months of nothing but his hand and, sometimes, her mouth when he wakes to the sensation of her sucking him deep into her throat. That is good, always, but this is incomparable, and it has been so long that he almost forgot. But, it's impossible to forget now. Not when he feels her rocking her hips back against him, meeting his thrusts at a pace that encourages him to keep up.

The pillow is soft on her cheek where it sinks into it with one of her hands gripping the corner for dear life. Soft noises leave her without realization as Aemond finally lets go of his reservations and surrenders to the primitive instinct that tells him to fuck her. He cannot wholly allow his instinct to take over, however. If he did, he'd get far rougher than he's comfortable being with her in this condition. It's a constant battle to keep himself from unleashing the full extent of his lust, ages in the making, on her the way they both enjoy.

Although he's holding back, she reacts with an enthusiasm often reserved for nights when he brings her to release over and over again. Anyone else would think she is exaggerating, but he knows her well. He knows that all this time they've abstained has made her ravenous, and from the times he has brought himself to his peak alongside her with her fingers trapped between her thighs, he knows pregnancy has made her a touch more sensitive.

He lets one hand leave her hip to clasp over her mouth and muffle the lovely little gasps and moans. His cock plunged into her harder as if in punishment for being too loud, hitting a spot that makes her squeeze her walls around him and whine into the hand over her mouth. His other hand uses its hold on her hip to tug her back to meet him stroke for stroke, quickly forgetting his internal promise to be gentle. It isn't nearly as intense as usual, but she can sense it. She can sense that he's starting to give himself over to the pleasure and allow himself to enjoy it.

"Quiet," he snaps and presses his palm harder against her lips to force them shut. His words seem to have the opposite of the intended effect, if the way she cries out has anything to show for it. "If the servants hear and gossip about me defiling you like this, Aegon will never stop talking about it."

The hand over her mouth leaves for an instant to reach for the belt looped into his undone trousers. Her body jolts with every hard thrust, and she cannot help how she moans now that her mouth is uncovered.

She yelps in surprise when he pushes the leather between her teeth and says, "Bite on this."

There's nothing else for her to do but listen.

It does a satisfactory job at keeping the sounds confined to their chambers. Not as well as his hand, but it will have to work. It allows him to hear her and revel in every sound without worrying too deeply about servants overhearing. If anything, he is the one who now risks getting them caught with how he groans and sighs with every smooth, wet drag of his cock inside of her.

The physical sensation is so overwhelming and euphoric, it almost feels torturous to him. Knowing that he cannot live in this moment forever is the cruelest form of torment he's endured, even above Lucerys blinding him and Aegon encouraging his nephews to bully him for lacking something they were all born with the privilege of having.

They made him feel inadequate, small, and he cannot deny the truth in what she said to him once before, in the midst of their coupling, regarding him deriving a sick pleasure from having stolen their sister away and making her his own. Fucking her full of heirs and taking solace in the fact that it is his blood, not the blood of the Strong bastards, that will continue their family's great dynasty. It's invigorating. Vindicating, even.

The muffled sounds of her moaning as he watches her, transfixed by the urge to wrap his hand up in the curtain of white silver running down her back like a flash of shooting starlight, brings him so close, he can almost feel it. His eye squeezes shut to allow him to focus on preventing himself from coming before she can, and it's only when he feels he's regained control over himself that he warns her.

"I won't last much longer," he says, breathless.

She knows that the words in and of themselves are an apology, so she shakes her head and murmurs, too far gone at this point, "Don't care."

There's a groan from behind her, then a harsh snapping of his hips against her ass as he says, "I do."

The feeling of the rough pads of his fingertips rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs has her writhing under him. She's grasping onto the pillow with one hand and braces the other on the headboard to keep her head from hitting it with the force of how he fucks her. Teeth biting down on leather, she cannot do much else than take it. She cannot call his name or warn him of her imminent climax, but she does not need to. By now, he knows when she's close to her peak by the feeling of her cunt spasming around him.

It's an addictive feeling. So much so that he doesn't quite enjoy his peak if it doesn't involve feeling, hearing, and witnessing hers first. It never fails to drag him under.

Another brush of his fingers against her, along with a well-aimed thrust, is all it takes to send her careening over the edge.

Her jaws goes slack and allows the belt to fall onto the pillow as she cries out for him at the intense crest of the wave that overtakes her. It's a mumbling, incoherent mixture of expletives, as well as his name, that pushes him closer to his satisfaction to hear it. To think that the beautiful creature beneath him, rendered useless in his hold and swollen with his child, is solely his and his alone is a fact he can hardly comprehend. All he can think as he chases his release is that he loves her. They have yet to say it, but he feels it. It's the kind of love that starts wars and ruins lives, and that is the most startling revelation he's ever had.

It takes little time—seconds, actually—for Aemond to succumb to the near-explosive feeling he has tried to stave off for the sake of satisfying his wife first. He is careful enough, even in the blissful reverie of climax, to not let his weight go on top of her and risk making her uncomfortable. Or injuring her or the babe in any way. Although exhausted from the relentless exertion, his body finds a way to hold itself up after he collapses onto her back and continues to rut into her as he fills her sensitive cunt with his seed until there's nothing left to give.

His softening cock slips out of her after he's taken the better part of a moment to come back down from the heavens she sent him to, and Y/N whines at the sudden emptiness. It isn't uncommon for him to remain inside of her long after they've finished sometimes. The first time it occurred, it was a result of mutual exhaustion, but the next time, it was a conscious choice.

His chest rises and falls rapidly with his panting breaths as his eye flutters shut for a second as though to take the time to burn the image of her now into the back of his mind. When he opens it again and moves back to see his come leaking from her hole, he has to keep himself from flipping her onto her back and kissing her sweet cunt until she's licked clean and lacks any evidence of the sin he committed today. But, he can't. He was already meant to be meeting Criston in the training yard, and nothing would be worse than the knight searching for Aemond only to find out he's been locked away in his chambers with his wife.

To pacify himself, he swipes his middle and forefinger between her slick folds to gather some of the dripping fluid on them. His other hand wraps itself up in her hair as he wanted it to moments ago to gently pull her head up from being buried in the pillow. Her head turns to the side only enough to allow him to see the side of her face, and he doesn't need to say anything to get her to open her mouth for him. All he does is bring it to her lips as he waits for her to obey his wordless command, wrapping her lips around his fingers and moaning at the salty taste on her tongue before swallowing it all.

When he watches this, he can't stop thinking to himself that he's lucky. Not only does he have a rare jewel of a woman as his wife and future Queen, but he also has a wanton whore who is quick to comply with his every wish and begs him to fuck her even when she is far along with child. Desperate for him and him alone.

"Mmm," he hums in approval at how she sucks his fingers clean and loosens his grip on her hair until it falls loose around her shoulders again. The hand that held back her hair slides down her back and rubs in soothing strokes up and down the length of her spine. The next words are barely a push of air, spoken so quietly that no one else in the world could overhear. "Sȳz riña." Good girl.

With his fingers falling from her lips, she sinks back down into the bed and rolls onto her back to allow herself the pleasure of looking at her husband. The adoration visible in her gaze never fails to catch him off guard. No one ever looks at him like that. With such fondness. Not even his own parents or siblings.

"Umbagon lēda nyke tubī, ñuha jorrāelagon?" Stay with me today, my love? "Jikagon udir naejot Criston bona iksan tolī va naejot ñuha sikagon syt ao naejot henujagon ñuha paktot. Umbagon kesīr, sagon iā sȳz valzȳrys, se qogralbar aōha ābrazȳrys ēva se tubis iksis toliot." Send word to Criston that I am too near to my labors for you to leave my side. Stay here, be a good husband, and fuck your wife until the day is gone. Her bold request draws a scoff from him. A second passes, then she says softly in the common tongue, "You have been quite protective of me as of late. I am sure people will not think anything of it."

There's a second of contemplation during which he weighs the costs and benefits. On one hand, he does need to train and maintain appearances in court. On the other...Well, he would very much like to spend the day in bed with her, testing out the theory the handmaiden presented to her about sexual activity inducing childbirth.

Screw Criston, he thinks.

"Sagon careful skoros ao epagon yno. Kostā jiōragon ziry," Aemond says to give her one last chance to rescind the offer. Be careful what you ask of me. You may get it.

Her expression turns stony as she asks, looking up at him through her lashes like she once did as a demure little cocktease of a newlywed, "Ao kivigon?" You swear?

And in the midst of the night, after a day of laying together—reading, fucking, talking, and giggling like little kids—they discover the theory regarding sex and childbirth to be true, and it's in the late hours of the morning that their little dragon finally decides to greet them in the form of a wailing infant girl.

Tag list: @m-indkiller, @tinykryptonitewerewolf, @hopebaker, @bcon24, @eleganttravelercloud, @aemond-targaryenx, @the-blue-banshee, @saramayu, @merakiaes, @its-sam-allgood, @grungegrrrl, @singitoutgirl26, @scarlettmoon98, @cicaspair418, @itisjustwhatitis, @cl-0-vr, @d34d-4c1d, @hargrovehoe, @vainillasmil157, @leahjean, @captainweirdo42, @magnificantmermaid, @dark-night-sky-99, @kaicyl, @ladybug0095, @bellaisasleep, @blackravena, @isaxbella749, @reneki, @heylosers06, @izzicle, @bucky-thorin-winchester, @hangmanscoming, @harrypotteranna23-blog, @fan-goddess, @glame, @muthafuckingstargirl, @barnes70stark, and @shintax-error.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #fanfiction #wrote most of this in my notebook at the psych ward last month ✌️

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zepskies · 9 months

Text

Smoke Eater - Part 1

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: "Smoke eater": a self-appointed slang term for a firefighter.

Happy Hispanic Heritage Month!! 🥳❤️‍🔥 You guys really warmed my heart with all the excitement for this story. I'm very happy to bring you the first chapter. I hope it doesn't disappoint! 😘

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 4,000 Warnings: Tense situations, brief mention of claustrophobia, and a good old-fashioned meet cute.

Part 1: "Class and Style"

Come on, come on, come on!

The toe of your heeled foot tapped on the floor as you, once again, waited for the elevator to make its slow climb back up to the 22nd floor.

In your hand was a tray carrying two steaming lattes: one small, plain hazelnut, and the other a venti caramel frappe with all the sugary bells and whistles. Complete with extra whipped cream, because your boss was a goddamn child.

I shouldn’t even be getting his coffee, you thought sourly. This is his assistant’s job!

And if this elevator didn’t climb any faster, having to stop at Starbucks during your meager lunch break for your boss’s morning fix would make you late for a very important sales meeting.

“Let’s go, Betsy. Come on,” you muttered. “You can do it.”

Yes, you’d named the contraption that usually managed to carry you all the way to your correct floor. When she wasn’t broken down for maintenance.

The four walls of the narrow elevator shook and creaked as it cleared the 20th floor. You inhaled sharply, but resisted the urge to grab the inner guardrail. This thing was old, just like the rest of the building.

But then, Betsy screeched and made an abrupt stop.

You were woefully unprepared. You slid in your heels and gasped—both at the jolt, and at the hot lattes tipping out of your hand and down your blouse and skirt.

Shit!

You didn’t even have time to wince at the scalding hot coffee, as you nearly rolled an ankle in the spillage. Luckily, you were able to grab at that guardrail. You sucked in relatively even breaths as you realized what happened…

The elevator stopped, but not on your floor.

“Oh, God…” you uttered, staring up at the red, digital “21” above the metal doors. It was blinking, but not moving. Just like you weren’t moving. Which meant…you were stuck.

Okay, not a big deal. You’re fine, you thought, trying to calm yourself. All you had on you was your phone, your ID, and your credit card. You’d decided to leave your purse in your desk, since you were just walking across the street.

But that was okay! Because you still had your phone…

“No service. Of course,” you muttered, raising your phone high to try and get a bar. This elevator was a dead zone, and it always had been. Fucking hell…

So you did the only thing you could think of.

You shouted for help.

You pressed the emergency alarm, several times.

You could hear it blare and echo outside of the chamber of the elevator, but no one seemed to hear you. Your work building was huge, made up of several departments and hundreds of employees here at Savage & Co. There was always plenty going on, especially in the middle of the morning.

Maybe no one could hear you.

“All right. Don’t…don’t panic,” you told yourself. Even though your heart was beginning to pound.

You finally pressed the “Call” button outlined in red. You didn’t know if it worked; half the floor buttons on the console didn’t even light up anymore.

But to your relief, the sound of a phone line ringing echoed through the small speaker. After a few rings, someone answered.

“Fire Department.”

“Oh, God. Yes!”

With a hand on the rail, you managed to kneel down next to the speaker. Your free hand brushed a strand of hair away from your dewy face. There was no AC in here, and you were starting to sweat. Thankfully, the rest of your hair was pulled up into a clip.

“I’m stuck in one of the oldest elevators known to man,” you told the disembodied voice.

“Sorry to hear that. What’s your name?”

You gave them your name, along with the address of your company’s building. The voice promised that they were dispatching a until to come and get you out soon.

“How soon is soon?” you asked.

“…About forty-five minutes, give or take.”

Jesus Christ.

You baked inside Betsy for close to an hour. While your makeup slowly melted, you found a corner of the ground that wasn’t covered by a coffee puddle, and you pressed the alarm button at random intervals. Still, no one seemed to hear it. You used the empty coffee tray to try and fan yourself.

Your phone was also useless. You tucked that along with your credit card into your bra for safe keeping. You’d definitely missed your meeting about the prospective Zimmerman account—one you and your coworker Josh were competing to nail down, as the top performers in the sales department. You couldn’t even catch up on your emails.

Damn it, Nick’s gonna chew my head off, you thought. But then you frowned, your brows furrowing. Well, it’s his fault for not maintaining this damn building. And for ordering a damn caramel frappe! What is he, a 12-year-old girl?

Your skirt was still sticky on the side. With a sigh, you leaned your head back against the metal wall and closed your eyes. Ah, well. At least I’m not claustrophobic.

“Fire Department!” called a man’s voice from above. “Can you hear me down there?”

You gasped and opened your eyes. Your gaze raised heavenward, and you called out to the voice.

“Hello?!”

“Ah, we found you. You okay, ma’am? Are you hurt?”

“Y-Yes…” You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see it. “I mean, no. I’m not hurt.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear,” he said. “You’re stuck between two floors, but we’re gonna get you out, all right?”

“Okay.” You sucked in a shaky breath and grabbed the rail so you could get back onto your feet. “I’m stuck on the 21st floor right?”

“Well, in between 21 and 22. Hold on one sec.”

You stood there with bated breath, just waiting for something to happen. You heard tools whirring, felt the elevator shutter for a moment, but it didn’t budge. Until you heard a thump on the roof. You looked up, but of course you couldn’t see what was happening.

Until a square patch in the roof was unscrewed and drawn back, revealing a firefighter in almost all his gear: wearing a gray shirt tucked into navy pants, red suspenders, black boots and gloves. All he was missing was a jacket and a hardhat.

He did wear a harness, and he held another one in his gloved hand, as well as a charming, almost boyish grin on his face.

“There you are,” he greeted.

You didn’t know if it was the lack of AC, or his ridiculously handsome features, but you felt your face heat up further.

“Uh, hi,” you said, very eloquently. You offered a smile back. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“Well, we haven’t gotten there yet, but we will,” he said, still with that grin as he lowered the second harness down to you. “I’m Dean. What’s your name?”

You gave it to him as you took the harness.

“Nice to meet you, despite the circumstances,” he said. “I’m sure you didn’t have this on your bingo card today, did ya?”

You snorted in response. “Not even in my fortune cookie.”

It earned an amused look from him. Then he proceeded to instruct you on how to put the harness on around your waist and shoulders and clip the straps together.

“Okay, good. Now tug it, make sure it’s tight enough,” Dean said, motioning with his hand. You obliged him.

“Perfect.” He nodded, before crouching down and lowering his hands through the compartment. “All right, now. Just take my hands. I’m gonna pull you up.”

You looked up at him, then and at the narrow escape hatch with uncertainty.

“It’s okay,” he said, noting your reluctance (and your white-knuckle grip on the guardrail). “It’s perfectly safe.”

“Yeah, I doubt anything about this situation is safe,” you replied wryly. You glanced at the elevator’s metal walls. Even now, they groaned under Dean’s shifting weight.

“I mean, I’m sure you’re strong and all,” you said, with a vague gesturing hand at him. You couldn’t quite tell from your limited vantage point, but Dean could barely fit his broad shoulders through the hole he’d opened up. He was probably a big guy.

Still, you didn’t like the idea of your legs dangling in mid-air.

“I’m a woman, but I’m still a full-grown person,” you said, your brows beginning to furrow in worry. “People are heavy, and this thing is rickety as hell, and that’s a really tiny window…”

“All right,” Dean gently interrupted. He looked like he was trying hard not to chuckle, and you didn’t appreciate it…even though you were biting your lip, trying not to smile too (more in embarrassment).

“I promise you, the line’s got you,” he said. And he tugged on the sturdy rope that connected to your harness.

His eyes met yours directly, firm and assuring. They were green, you noticed, even in this fluorescent lighting.

“More importantly, I’ve got you. And there’s no way I’m gonna let you fall,” he said, with what seemed like every conviction in the world. “Just take my hands.”

He leaned in further so you could reach him.

…And damn it, you believed him.

Staring into his eyes, you found the courage to suck in a deep breath and release the guardrail. You reached up and let his hands curl tightly around yours. You gripped him right back.

“All right, pull up!” he called back over his shoulder.

You couldn’t see them, but you heard the voices of other firefighters as they slowly retracted Dean’s harness line as well as yours. When he was able to plant his feet on the roof of the elevator again, you held your breath as he pulled you all the way up as well.

You lost a heel along the way though. It fell off your foot and hit the bottom of the elevator below.

“Woops,” Dean said. His arms wrapped around you, and he held you securely against him when your heel (and bare foot) also met the elevator roof, a bit awkwardly. You both peered back down through the square hole.

“Want me to get that for you?” he offered, with another one of those grins.

Now you knew you were blushing. Stop it!

You shook your head as you clung to his arms. You felt the strength in them, and it steadied you, along with the easy way about him that said he was more than comfortable with the perils of rescuing trapped women from old-ass elevators.

“Don’t even worry about it,” you told him. “I just want to get the hell out of here.”

Dean chuckled then. “I hear ya. Let’s go, then.”

He glanced up and called out to a “Benny” and a “Gordon.” You assumed they were the men securing the harnesses that held you and Dean.

“Okay. You ready, sweetheart?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” you replied with a nod, even as you bit your lip again at the endearment. Usually when men called you sweetheart, (like your boss), it was like nails on a damn chalkboard.

But somehow, it didn’t seem so sleezy coming from the charming fireman.

You craned to looked up at his face. He was much taller than you, even with half your heels. Dean met your eyes again, and for a moment, you were tense. The elevator shaft was dark and cold, but the light from the open doors of the floor above allowed you to see his face, decorated lightly with stubble, and his brown hair that spiked to one side.

Your mouth parted, though you didn’t have a clue of what to say next…

You were saved when the lines went even more taut, and the firefighters on the floor above brought you and Dean all the way up to the 22nd floor. He helped you reach out to a bearded fireman, who supported your arms and carried you out of the elevator shaft, onto solid ground.

A small crowd had formed in the lobby. Zachariah the CFO was there, along with the building manager, and your friend Andréa, who looked both worried and relieved to see you. And even your boss, Nick, came forward to meet you once Benny and Dean helped you take off the harness.

“You’ve had a busy morning,” Nick drawled.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “You could say that.”

Technically, he was everyone’s boss: Nick Savage, CEO of Savage & Co. He’d inherited the company from his father. However, Nick believed his one sad year of college business classes made him an expert on running your sales department with a firm hand.

“Well, it’s good to see you’re all right,” he said. Though his eyes glanced down your stained, white blouse, down to your bare foot. His gaze made your spine prickle. And not in a good way.

You crossed your arms on reflex. “I know I missed the meeting—”

“We recorded it. You’ll be able to watch it later, take notes, all that good stuff,” he said, his head tilting in that lazy way of his. He gestured at you with a finger. “But, uh…once you’re done cleaning up, think you could nip back out and get me that coffee? Since, you know, you’re kind of wearing it.”

Behind you, the team of firefighters discreetly watched the scene while packing up their gear—some with curiosity and bemusement, others (namely Dean) with a subtle frown.

You were livid.

But you managed to keep it down, just beneath your skin, as you bent down and took off your remaining heel.

“I’m requesting the afternoon off as personal time,” you informed him with (mostly) all due professionalism. There was a fire in your eyes, however, that not even you could tame.

“But don’t worry,” you said. “I’ll still land the Zimmerman account by Friday.”

You turned and dropped your shoe into a nearby garbage can. You didn’t want to be reminded of your boss every time you saw the coffee stains.

Before you left, you stopped in front of Dean and the other firefighters.

“Thank you very much for all your help,” you said, giving them all a smile. Your gaze lingered on Dean, who smiled back at you and nodded, his hands resting on his belt.

“You got it, sweetheart.”

Your lips twitched. Then you continued on your way towards the exit door, to the stairwell. You shoved it open and walked bare-footed up to your office to get your purse.

You’d left Nick silently fuming in the middle of the hall. You knew there wasn’t too much he could do with an entire crowd of witnesses.

He soon huffed and let your behavior roll off his back, as he became distracted by Zachariah and the building manager asking about the last time the elevator was properly serviced.

Meanwhile, Dean and Benny shared an amused look as their team rolled out.

Damn, Dean thought, remembering how you’d stopped in your little storm out, just to thank them. And how you’d held your head high as you walked away on bare feet.

He could admit, you had both class and style.

“Really, Grandpa. I’m fine,” you insisted.

Now in the comfort of your own home, and in your pajamas after a nice hot shower, you stirred a pot of chicken soup for your Grandpa George. He eyed you from the kitchen table with a measure of suspicion.

“Well, it’s lucky for you we’ve got a responsive Fire Department,” he said. “In the sleepy little town I grew up in, you’d be lucky if the whole damn building didn’t cave in before somebody got to ya.”

You shot him an amused look.

“Thanks. Makes me feel better about stepping into an elevator ever again.”

George seemed to consider the prospect, but he soon waved a vague hand.

“Ah, you’ll be fine,” George said, waving a hand. “Even if one of the cables snapped, you’d have three more holdin’ you up. And it should only need one cable to support the compartment, make sure the whole thing doesn’t fall to the damn ground.”

Your grandfather had been a technician for sixty years, so he knew a little thing about commercial building maintenance. However, right now, he wasn’t making you feel any better about your somewhat perilous experience. You paled a bit at the thought of cables snapping, leading to a long, Tower of Terror-style drop.

Except there’d be nothing to catch you at the bottom.

“It’s okay. I’ll just start walking up all 22 floors up to my office every day,” you said, smiling wryly. “I’ll finally have thighs like Wonder Woman.”

George laughed, though it soon ended on a cough. You eyed him with a frown as you ladled out a bowl of soup for him. You went over to him, both to set down the bowl in front of him and rub his back.

“Still with that cough. I don’t like it,” you said. “I’m making an appointment with your doctor.”

George shook his head and grabbed his glass of water.

“Just something caught in my throat.”

“Mhmm,” you replied. He was the absolute king of downplaying. It used to drive your grandma nuts.

You sighed and raised a hand to your forehead. An ache was building behind your eyes. Or maybe it had been there since you left work early today, and you were just now realizing how tightly wound your spine was.

“You okay?” George asked. You read the concern in his eyes and tried to relax your face from its scrunching.

“Yeah. Just a tension headache.”

“Hmm. Maybe you should spend less time worrying about me, and more time taking care of yourself,” he pointed out. “You had a stressful day. Why don’t you go relax? Or better yet, go out! Go see your friends. Get in a bar fight. Something productive.”

A grin curved your lips as you raised a brow.

“A bar fight would make me more productive?”

George grinned up at you. “Well, at least it’d get you out of the house.”

You pursed your lips. There was a reason you didn’t go out very often, and your grandfather knew it. You were the only one who could watch out for him now, even if he didn’t think he needed it. Your mouth opened to reply, but before you could, your cell phone rang through the house.

For a moment, the two of you stared at one another. Until George raised his brows.

“You should get that, huh?” he said.

You narrowed your eyes at him, despite your small smile, and you raised a finger as you went to get your purse over in the living room.

“We’re not done, old man,” you said over your shoulder.

“Oh, believe me. I know,” he grumbled, delving into his soup with a spoon.

Meanwhile, you fished your phone out of your purse and answered. A genuine, if tired smile graced your lips. It was your best friend, Andréa. She worked with you at Savage & Co., over in Marketing as a graphic designer.

As fate would have it, the two of you were hired on the same day five years ago. She’d invited you to lunch that day, and from then on, you two had been rocking through corporate life like Thelma and Louise—if Thelma had been a Greek artist and Louise had been a sarcastic saleswoman.

“Hey, Dre,” you greeted.

“Hello, my love. Congratulations for surviving your near-death experience, and getting to serve Nick Savage a bit of humble pie,” she teased. “I thought you were going to lobby your Prada heel at his head.”

You huffed and plopped down on the couch with your feet up on the coffee table.

“First of all, let’s not be too dramatic. I was stuck in an elevator, not a Chilean mine shaft,” you said wryly. “Second, you really think I would throw away Prada? Even if it was coffee stained… Those were just my $30 Steve Maddens.”

And yet, they had been your most comfortable heels. Maybe you should just find some sensible flats in the back of your closet and be done with it. But you liked the height and confidence that a nice pair of heels gave you—especially in that office filled with “Mad Men” wannabes.

Every male on your sales team thought he was Jon Hamm in a room full of George Costanzas.

Nick Savage was the worst out of all of them.

You dealt with it, however, and sometimes even thrived on being the only woman on the team. Mostly because you needed your job.

It paid well enough, but most of it went into the upkeep of your grandparents’ old house, and for the past few years, their extensive medical bills…

“Still, at least you got a Mission Impossible-style rescue out of it,” said Andréa. Her tone turned both leading and flirtatious. “Tell me you got that fireman’s number. Dear God Almighty, what a Grade-A Hottie.”

You chortled through your blush at remembering Dean, the firefighter who saved you. You could admit, he’d been one fine specimen of a man.

“Grade-A Hottie. What are we, in middle school?” you retorted. “Besides, he was just doing his job.”

“Ugh, you’re so pragmatic it hurts,” your friend lamented. “You really need to live a little, while you’re still hot and firm.”

You laughed fully at that one. “Yeah, I think taking the stairs from now on will help with the ‘firm’ bit.”

Just like the strength of the firefighter’s hold had been. You’d felt entirely secure after he’d pulled you up on the elevator roof. His arms had reassured you even more than the harness, if you thought about it. (And your face heated up further at said thought.)

“I do wish I could say thank you again, somehow,” you mused out loud, not really thinking about who exactly you were talking to.

“Oh, yeah?” Andréa said. You could practically hear her mischievous grin. It made you slightly nervous. “Well, it’s not unheard of for a grateful civilian to stop by a firehouse. You could bring him lunch or something!”

“Ah, I don’t know about that,” you said. Your instinct was to withdraw inward at the thought of putting yourself out there like that. Besides, you didn’t want to bother him while he was at work.

“What’re you talking about? Firefighters love food! Believe me, my cousin Meg is a paramedic,” Andréa said. Then she gasped. “Oh, girl. I have the perfect idea for you. Why don’t you bake something for the whole firehouse? That way it takes some of the pressure off, but you still get to see him.”

You became more contemplative then.

Bake something, huh?

Now, that you could do. Andréa knew all too well that the one thing that could get your gears turning was getting your apron on, as baking was your ultimate hobby. It made you feel creative, and damn-near stress free…

And her idea wasn’t too shabby, the more you thought about it. It was something kind that you knew you could do. And more than anything, you really did just want to say thank you, one more time.

You smiled.

“Okay. I think we have a plan.” However, your smile soon fell. “Wait, I have no idea what firehouse he works at.”

“Hmm, my cousin might know,” Andréa said. “Let me reach out to her…what’s his name again?”

“Dean,” you replied. Another small smile reached your lips, against your will.

“His name was Dean.”

AN: Ah, the first chapter! Launching a new story is always so exciting! 🥰 What did you think of the reader and Dean's first meeting?

Also, feel free to imagine Mark Pellegrino's "Nick" for this (I am). He didn't have a last name on the show, so I created one for this story, as he's going to be an important antagonist throughout.

And just so you guys know, my knowledge of the inner workings of fire departments and law enforcement will largely come from my own research and being a huge fan of procedurals, like Chicago Fire, Chicago Med, Law & Order, etc.

Yes, aspects are fictionalized on those shows, but a lot of it is rooted in real-life protocol and stories. All the love and respect for creator/executive producer Dick Wolf. 😂

...Oh, and the elevator scene was inspired by true events. (Yes, I've been stuck in an elevator before. 🫠 Two ridiculously hot firefighters pulled me out, but by then I was melting from the lack of AC, had no makeup, and was dressed like a female!Dean, plaid and all lmao.)

Anywho...

Next Time:

“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”

“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.

He chuckled a bit. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”

Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you.

Keep Reading: PART 2

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

Due to Tumblr's dumb 50-only tag rule, I'm tagging the rest of you in a reblog. 😘

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#Class and Style #Smoke Eater #Part 1 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester AU #firefighter AU #spn #supernatural #zepskies writes

861 notes · View notes

piscespetals · 8 months

Text

summary: you & sevika work in an office, and developing a silly schoolgirl crush is the last thing you expected to happen at this point in your career...

word count: i stopped counting 3/4 of the way through once I reached 16k so this is pretty hefty!

content: pinning (of course), fluff, gay disaster, the tiniest sliver of smut

thanks for reading!

Kinda in my feelings about what it would be like to work in the same office as Sevika...

╰➤ I feel like you see her in passing a lot, since her office is only a few doors down from yours.

╰➤ The both of you often strike up casual conversations in the break room, filling the silence while awkwardly waiting for your food to heat up in the microwave.

╰➤ You always notice when she walks into the same room as you because she's constantly dressed to the nines—slacks hugging her thick thighs just right; form fitting and sleek. They shape the curved muscles of her calves as if the manufacturers make the material just for her.

╰➤ You also notice that she has a knack for neutral colors, especially with her dress shirts. She likes the top buttons to be undone, sleeves rolled up to her elbows and collar perfectly crisp. The air that swarms her is usually woodsy with a hint of spice.

╰➤ She's magical.

╰➤ And because of that, you aren't surprised at the buzz about her in the workplace. She's one of the new hires so it's natural for her to stir up curiosity. But beyond that, there's no doubt that she's quite the enigma. You've even heard a few colleagues gossip about how much they want her.

╰➤ The first time you interact with her is when you're waiting for the microwave to finish warming up your lasagna.

╰➤ Her dress shoes click softly against the tile floor as she enters the break room, causing you to glance over your shoulder. Your eyes widen when her gaze flickers from the microwave to you.

╰➤ "Hi," You mumble pathetically. Your stomach churns and your toes curl and all of a sudden, it's like you're a shy prepubescent person all over again.

╰➤ She smells good.

╰➤ "Hey," Her voice is deep and warm. It rings straight through you before settling at the pit of your stomach.

╰➤ "Uh," You swallow, shifting your weight. "I'm almost done. Then you can use it."

╰➤ She doesn't say anything else.

╰➤ Her lack of silence sparks a wave of nerves. Next thing you know, you're gesturing towards the microwave wordlessly.

╰➤ She follows the motion, eyebrows quirking up with interest.

╰➤ "I'm having lasagna for lunch," You announce. "This is my third time having to warm it up. I forgot how stubborn pasta can be in a microwave." Then you're patting the top of the rectangular miniature oven.

╰➤ You almost allow yourself to think that her expression has morphed into amusement. But before you get carried away with your thoughts, a loud ding! sounds.

╰➤ Quickly, you open the microwave door, carefully reaching for your steaming tupperware container so that you don't burn yourself.

╰➤ "Well, it's all yours!" You don't have the courage to meet her gaze anymore, finding more interest in the carpet as you leave the room and make a beeline straight to your office.

╰➤ Interactions after that are somewhat similar. Sometimes, she asks, "How've you been?" If the wait to use the microwave is longer than usual.

╰➤ The conversations are more surface level than anything—a routine song and dance to fill up silence for the sake of politeness.

╰➤ They're strings of, "The weathers been nice lately" and, "What are you eating today?" and, "How's the workload been for you?"

╰➤ Then you both are scurrying off to your own little sanctuaries, not planning to see each other until the next business day.

╰➤ There's another time when you're late to going on break. You usually like to be one of the first ones to clock out and heat up your food. There's only one working microwave because your boss is too cheap to replace the second one (that has been broken for several months now), which causes a long line to form for those wanting to warm up their home lunches.

╰➤ Unfortunately, today is the day where you have to join the majority and step in line. Due to a phone call that lasted longer than you expected, you don't end up going to lunch until 15 minutes later than you usually do.

╰➤ You're softly rocking on your heels when Sevika comes into view. She rounds the corner of the office, stalking towards the line with taut muscles and a grinding jaw. An air of annoyance lingers around her, eyes unfocused and seemingly far away, hands—

╰➤ "Are you gonna step forward?" Shane, a co-coworker, asks. He appears disgruntled, pointing at the gap of space in front of you.

╰➤ That seems to gain Sevika's attention. She peers at Shane shortly before dragging her piercing stare towards you.

╰➤ Shane huffs at your silence.

╰➤ "Oh, right!" You breathe, breaking away from Sevika's regard. "Uh, sorry."

╰➤ Taking a few steps forward, you close the distance, doing your best to ignore Shane's rant about "dillydallying workers."

╰➤ A few moments pass before that familiar image of Sevika's grey eyes resurface in your brain. Glancing back towards her, you find her scuffing the heel of her dress boots against the carpet, attention set on no particular thing. She jumps between the carpet, to the gossiping co-workers nearby, to the flickering ceiling lights.

╰➤ Just when you're about to turn back around, she glances towards you. Your gut pulls, ears rushing with adrenaline and veins buzzing.

╰➤ Then, she mouths, "Hi," and you almost combust right then. Gone is the frustrated expression that was adorning her features moments before. Instead, a ghost of a smile plays on her lips.

╰➤ You blink a few times; stunned.

╰➤ You think you wave back at her, but you can't seem to be entirely in touch with whatever your body is doing.

╰➤ "Um, hey." You reply, clearing your throat.

╰➤ It's loud enough for her to hear. But it also may have been too loud. A few other people surrounding you look over in confusion.

╰➤ "Were you talking to me?" Brian, a colleague who's standing right in front of Sevika, asks.

╰➤ You bite the inside of your cheek. "Oh—uh, no. Sorry."

╰➤ Brian looks around, not so subtly, probably trying to find out who the hell your greeting was directed to.

╰➤ Sevika laughs at the interaction. It's the kind of laugh where she presses her lips together, shoulders shaking and eyes dancing with humor. She's trying to be polite—trying to contain her laughter—but she's not doing a very good job.

╰➤ The sight causes you to shuffle your feet in embarrassment, blowing a raspberry.

╰➤ "Look, I've only got twenty minutes of my lunch break left so if you aren't gonna pay attention..." Shane admonishes, voice thin. He's gesturing to the growing gap in front of you again, clearly fed up with your lack of wherewithal.

╰➤ You bite the inside of your cheek, choosing to ignore the way that Sevika seems to be laughing harder now. Fighting off a giggle of your own becomes difficult.

╰➤ "Okay." You reply. Then you face forward, catching up with the rest of the line. "Sorry."

╰➤ The next time you see Sevika, it's when you run into her before a staff meeting.

╰➤ Literally.

╰➤ You aren't paying attention, too busy with shuffling through your purse for a granola bar, eyes downcast and head hung low, when you walk straight into her.

╰➤ Her body is firm, your forehead knocking against the rounded muscle of her shoulder. Your breath catches, eyes widening as you try to glance up, struggling to regain your bearings.

╰➤ Strong hands grab onto your upper arms. The feeling of thumbs pressing into your skin jolts you awake from the daze you've been experiencing all day. And like a moth drawn to a flame, you feel yourself hovering closer—drunk off of the delicious air that surrounds you.

╰➤ Sevika's air.

╰➤ "Oh," You huff, blinking up at her with wide eyes. In the back of your brain, you register the feeling of her large hands encircling your biceps. It's a feeling you welcome. But it becomes faint when you realize the reality of the situation. "I'm so sorry," You spit out, remorse crashing into you. "Fuck—I mean...frick." A startled laugh escapes you. "Frick because fuck is totally not work appropriate...obviously."

╰➤ You swallow thickly. Your legs tremble, an undeniable pressure sprouting in your gut under the feeling of Sevika's pressing gaze. Her stormy grey eyes examine you with interest. It leaves your mind clouded over with impure thoughts—unprofessional thoughts.

╰➤ "I wasn't looking." You add.

╰➤ "Clearly." Sevika's sporting a shit eating grin. Her hands squeeze your biceps. "You good?"

╰➤ "I'm good. Just—" You clear your throat. "Well, I was actually looking for a granola bar. I forgot to take a lunch break because I'm drowning in paperwork. And then Cam announced the meeting at the last minute so I thought I could get a quick bite on the way. Except I'm pretty sure I've somehow lost my granola bar which is just my luck. And-"

╰➤ Sevika's eyebrows are raised so high that they almost meet her hairline. "I see," She mutters, sounding impassive.

╰➤ Fuck.

╰➤ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

╰➤ Maybe you're talking a bit too much—a habit you've been trying to break lately—but it's only because Sevika makes you nervous.

╰➤ It goes beyond her demeanor that screams, "I don't like people so respectfully, leave me the fuck alone."

╰➤ Sevika is your work crush. She's gorgeous and good at meeting the weekly stats, and smells good.

╰➤ Despite the office rumors of her unapproachability and death glares, she's not entirely awful in your presence. She's pretty cordial with you in fact. Which means, she doesn't dislike you as much as she probably does the others.

╰➤ After all, she always lets you use the microwave before her. And she doesn't make you feel completely useless when you tell her a cringey joke, or make an embarrassing attempt to strike up conversation.

╰➤ But now, you've opened your mouth.

╰➤ You've opened your fucking mouth and have probably turned her off before she could even get a chance to truly know you.

╰➤ You've fumbled.

╰➤ The realization embarrasses you.

╰➤ "Yeah," You respond. The both of you fall silent and you imagine a static screen being displayed on a person's TV somewhere in the world. That's the perfect personification of this moment, you think.

╰➤ Sevika hums, letting her hands fall back to her sides. Then she's stepping back, slightly faltering and looking down at the space between you both. You follow her gaze, eyes widening at the sight of fingers gripping the hem of her shirt. Your fingers.

╰➤ "Oh! Sorry," You repeat. You tug your hands away, breath catching in your throat. "This is—" Your lips pinch together.

╰➤ God, this is embarrassing.

╰➤ Clearly scandalized, you tread a few paces backward.

╰➤ "Um, actually, I should go pee! I haven't had a chance yet, w-with the workflow and all. Especially now that the staff meeting starts soon," Your thumb juts in a general direction of the restroom behind you. "Gotta hate those bladder infections, am I right?" Pathetically, you force out a laugh.

╰➤ Humor trickles onto Sevika's features. Her lip twitches. "Right..."

╰➤ "Not that I have a bladder infection right now! I'm preventing one by going to the bathroom. My bladder is perfectly fine." One of the straps of your purse falls off your shoulder. You readjust it. "...Not that you care, or like, anything."

╰➤ A pause bleeds into the atmosphere. Slight chatter travels from a few offices down. People emerge from their desk, hastily making their way to the conference room behind Sevika. You struggle to ignore the sound of tapping keyboards and squeaking chairs. The lull is excruciating.

╰➤ "Okay, well–" You force a cough. "I'll go now. Catch you later, Sevika." You almost allow yourself to believe that her eyes widen when you say her name.

╰➤ But then you're turning on your heels and scurrying away, discarding the ridiculous notion.

╰➤ It's the next day when you run into her again. There you are, standing in front of the microwave, when you hear chuckling. It's easy for you to know it's hers. You find yourself savoring the sound every time it leaves her lips.

╰➤ A smile stretches across your face, and you peer over your shoulder, eyes landing on her for the first time that day. Sevika's wearing a white long-sleeve undershirt, partially covered with a black sweater vest and beige slacks. She has her hair styled in a half-up, half down. She's fiddling with a gold plated watch on her wrist, expression smug and eyes regarding the person beside her.

╰➤ The microwave beeps; a sign that it's time for you to retrieve your lunch and head back to your office. But your eyes can't help but linger on the stranger beside Sevika.

╰➤ Well, they're not really a stranger. Their name is Kai. You don't know Kai personally. You just know of them. They work in the warehouse, so you only see them during the times that all departments are required to attend the staff meetings.

╰➤ Occasionally, you may see Kai if they visit one of their friends that work on the same floor as you. They have chestnut brown eyes and a badass sleeve that covers their entire right arm. But besides that, they’re a complete stranger.

╰➤ "Smells good," Kai announces, turning to you. There's a glint in their eyes as they gaze at you, and that makes you feel exposed for some reason. You can't understand why or even how.

╰➤ Then, your attention diverts to the way that Kai’s fingers dance along the cuff of Sevika's sleeve. They trail up the material, alongside Sevika's forearm, before pulling away. It's the smallest gesture—something a general onlooker wouldn't notice without staring incredibly hard—but you noticed. You wish you hadn't.

╰➤ "Thanks," You mumble.

╰➤ You turn around, swallow, blink, and open the microwave door. You ignore the burning of the tupperware container against your skin, trying to shut out the pounding of your heart.

╰➤ "Hey," Sevika greets, the quietest she ever has.

╰➤ It's harder for you to meet her eyes in that moment. You're distracted by Kai’s swaying, and how it's perfectly on beat with the music that echoes through the office speakers; how they’re majestically relaxed in a way that you never can be.

╰➤ You don't understand why such strong feelings surge through you; feelings of envy and doom and a hint of jealousy. It doesn't make sense. It isn't logical. But it's there. It's annoyingly there.

╰➤ "You're the one who just got promoted to be Cam's assistant, right?" Kai asks. You stop in your tracks, halfway between the microwave and them. A wave of shock washes over you. You never thought they ever noticed you.

╰➤ "Um, yeah. It's not really a promotion, though..."

╰➤ "No?" Kai glances at Sevika out of the corner of their eye. "Vika said so. She's mentioned it a few times, actually."

╰➤ That's when you find the courage to glance over to Sevika. Her cloudy grey eyes observe the floor, jaw grinding and hands shoved into her pockets. Sevika knows your job title?

╰➤ It feels ridiculous to be excited over such a revelation. After all, you and Sevika work in the same fucking building. How can she not know what you do?

╰➤ But there are countless coworkers in surrounding cubicles who never catch your attention; people you've never talked to. People who would never know that your office resided within walking distance from them. And the notion is the same for you when you find yourself surrounded by unfamiliar faces on days you stray too far from your office.

╰➤ But Sevika knows. She pays attention. Whether that's a good or bad thing, you allow your heart to savor the thought.

╰➤ "Oh," You mumble, swallowing thickly. Suddenly, the thought of Kai’s close proximity to Sevika doesn't seem so bad.

╰➤ "Well, anyways, there's a clerk position opening up and I may have interest in it. Kinda wanna be a corporate person now, you know?" Kai grins, laughing lightly. You smile in return. "If I land the job, maybe you can help me get adjusted to office life? Show me the ropes a little. Vika says you're the best one on the sales team."

╰➤ Vika says you're the best one on the sales team.

╰➤ Vika says you're the best.

╰➤ Sevika's head lifts, rolling her eyes as she nudges Kai with her elbow. Kai yelps then coughs seconds after.

╰➤ "I just do what's in my job description." You bashfully admit.

╰➤ Kai’s grin widens. “Right…” Their words are slow and heavy with an unspoken implication.

╰➤ Their gaze shifts to Sevika, then you, then Sevika, and back to you again. The hairs on the back of your neck stand and you find yourself feeling self conscious; it feels like they know something about you that you don't want them to.

╰➤ “I’m just gonna squeeze by really quick,” Kai announces.

╰➤ You side step, allowing them to head towards the vending machines. You make the mistake of not being spatially aware, moving over a bit too far and knocking into the table positioned to your right.

╰➤ "You okay?"

╰➤ Your eyebrows furrow at Sevika's question—at her concern. The way her gaze flickers between you and the table has your stomach tugging. Your fingers tighten around your tupperware container.

╰➤ "Just clumsy," You explain, nodding at her. "Which you probably already, uh, know."

╰➤ Your memory travels back to the day before, and how you ran right into her.

╰➤ You're not sure you'll ever be able to forget something so embarrassing.

╰➤ Sevika smiles and you realize that it's the most genuine thing you've seen all day. "Oh," She says knowingly. "I do."

╰➤ She's teasing you but you don't mind it. You couldn't even if you tried because you're too caught up in how breathtakingly handsome she is. The intricate details of Sevika's smile always has a powerful effect on you.

╰➤ She has the tiniest dimples in her chin, puffy dark lips gorgeously contrasting to the whites of her teeth. And her gap—goodness, that gap has you wanting to curl up into a ball and melt away. It's placed right between her two front teeth.

╰➤ You hold your tupperware container tighter against the lower pouch of your belly, feet rocking forwards and backwards, head swimming from Sevika's presence. She has you completely gone for her. A proper crush—and surely, due to the current circumstances of being coworkers—a rather inappropriate crush too.

╰➤ "You know," You find yourself saying. "I just realized...I've never actually introduced myself to you."

╰➤ Sevika straightens, eyes flashing with that familiar light of humor. "You're right. You haven't," She clicks her tongue. "How rude."

╰➤ Your skin prickles, "I'm the rude one?"

╰➤ "Are you insinuating otherwise?"

╰➤ "Yes." You nod, trying to erase your smile. Your cheeks are starting to ache. "Did it not take you two months to say more than just Hi to me?"

╰➤ "Not true." She clears her throat. "Sometimes, I would say hey instead."

╰➤ Your jaw drops and silence fills the room.

╰➤ And then you're laughing. It's the type of giggle that bubbles over with an emotion similar to returning home. Your cheeks ache and so does your stomach; your vision momentarily blurs from the action of squinting. Sevika joins you with her own laughter but hers is more beautiful. It's like the soft breeze of the wind on a spring morning. You'd try to make her laugh forever if you really could.

╰➤ Soon you're exhaling softly, features relaxing as you glance towards her. "I'm sure you already know who I am, and what I do here. But, for formality reasons..." You begin. It feels weird to introduce yourself to her, especially after seeing her nearly everyday for the last four months. After all, it seems like she knows enough to have already talked about you to Kai. But it makes you feel better to do it this way. You give her your name personally and shake her hand.

╰➤ A proper introduction.

╰➤ Sevika repeats your name under her breath, trying it out for herself. The sound of it causes your toes to curl inside of your shoes. When she shakes your hand, you take note of how large her fingers are compared to yours. One of her hands could engulf the both of yours without any effort. And her skin is warm and calloused. Despite the rough exterior, she touches you with such fragility that you have to glance down for a second. It's almost as if she's afraid of breaking you.

╰➤ But then the moment is over. Kai returns, this time with two bags of Doritos in their hands. They throw one at Sevika, and thanks to Sevika’s fast reflexes, it’s caught without a single flinch.

╰➤ “This should hold us over until Leah clocks out.” Kai sighs. “She wants to go to Famous Dave’s again and I’m kinda in the mood for like, anything other than that. Like I can only eat a certain amount of that stuff before I start suffering from a serious case of heartburn.”

╰➤ Sevika scrunches her nose, popping a chip into her mouth. “Then tell her that.”

╰➤ “I can't,” The whine of Kai’s voice becomes oddly endearing. “You know how she gets.”

╰➤ “Then don’t tell her.”

╰➤ “Or maybe you can tell her. She listens to you.”

╰➤ Sevika rolls her eyes. “No.”

╰➤ “Why not…”

╰➤”Kai, just talk to her. It’s literally not that hard.”

╰➤ “...That’s what she said.”

╰➤ You marvel at the way that Sevika stops mid-chew, gaze still downturned at the red bag in her hand before muttering, “Hilarious.”

╰➤ You try to wipe the growing grin off of your face as you bite the inside of your cheek. Kai glances at you once more, eyes sparkling a gorgeous brown. “Do you want to join us? We’re catching dinner at Famous Dave’s.”

╰➤ Your jaw falls slack, shock hitting you like a ton of bricks. “Oh.” You respond. A breathless laugh leaves you. “Um…”

╰➤ “It’ll just be me, Leah and Vika. Do you know Leah? She’s in accounting. Kinda tall, lanky…socially awkward with bright purple hair?”

╰➤ The description doesn't ring any bells for you. “Uh, no. I don't think I’ve seen her around yet.”

╰➤ “Understandable. She works all the way up on the 8th floor.” Kai tilts their head, regarding you with a warmth you aren't used to receiving from anyone in this building besides Sevika and your boss. “Anyways, the offer still stands?”

╰➤ That’s when Sevika glances up at you through her lashes. She doesn’t necessarily crack a smile, but a corner of her lip has curved into something subtle.

╰➤ “I wish. But I’m working overtime to help Cam with our pitch tomorrow.” You attempt to ignore the way your heart deflates as you say this.

╰➤”Aw, man.” Kai tosses their empty Dorito bag into a nearby trash can.

╰➤ "But we should definitely plan something soon.” Before you do anything stupid, like flaking on Cam last minute just to meet up with coworkers for dinner, you urge yourself to bid them goodbye. “I'll catch you guys another time, alright?"

╰➤ "Nice meeting you!” Kai calls. A short hiss escapes the bottle in their hand as they twist off the cap and tilt their head back. It's a diet coke.

╰➤ "You too!”

╰➤ It's awkward when you slip past them both, proximity dangerously close to Sevika. You find the courage to whisper, “Later Vika,” to her at the last second.

╰➤ Her body stiffens and it almost sounds like she chokes while swallowing another mouthful of her chips. It’s probably the least collected display of behavior you’ve ever witnessed from her.

╰➤ You stifle a laugh, brushing past her and towards the direction of your office.

╰➤ You feel really fucking sad today.

╰➤ Days like today are days that you dread. It isn't a result of anything particular. Of course, you want to be able to blame an event or cause. But the truth of the matter is that you're just having a really bad mental health day.

╰➤ It first starts off with you waking up late. You never wake up late. Your mornings are pretty routine. Some may call them mundane, but routine helps you get through the day easier. So when your alarm doesn't sound and you wake after a bad dream, realizing that it's 30 minutes past the time that your alarm usually rings, your heart sinks.

╰➤ You don't have time for a full breakfast. You have to settle for toast and orange juice instead, slipping on the cleanest pair of jeans and shirt that you can find. When you make it to work, you're just on time. But everything is off.

╰➤ Because instead of your usual business casual attire, you're sporting faded jeans, a blank t shirt and beat up sneakers. Your muscles are still sluggish and your eyelids are heavy. So far, the morning isn't great.

╰➤ As time passes, you realize that you're quite ahead in your work. Cam is off for the day, which means you don't have any extra errands or tasks to do for him. There is truly not much left to accomplish.

╰➤ You settle on the mission of clearing out your voicemail box. But that's soon completed. Your latest emails are nothing of importance and you don't have any upcoming meetings to attend. A cloud of doom hovers over you. By 11 AM, it doubles in size. Once noon hits, it's time for your lunch break and a sorrowful cloud clings onto you like a leech.

╰➤ It's hard to gain a semblance of what to do next. Your heart's true desire calls for your bed and a long restful sleep. Your chest seizes with dull aches and your mind swarms with everything yet nothing at all. This is a familiar feeling that you always hate. It's hard to prevent days like this. It always creeps up on you before you can find the strength to prevent it.

╰➤ You're nearly 30 minutes late to taking your lunch today. You've packed a deli sandwich with grapes, pretzels and a bag of potato chips. But none of it is appealing. And for the first time in months, it's a cold lunch—which you don't usually prefer.

╰➤ Your legs take you to the break room. It's almost empty, with only the buzz of a few coworkers trailing in and out. You sit at one of the tables in the corner, sighing softly and staring down at your lunch.

╰➤ You aren't hungry. Whenever the rare days like today hit you—days when your appetite for life fades—a dwindling appetite for food soon follows. But if you don't eat, then you'll later find yourself crouched in your bed with aching temples, fighting off the pains of a skipped meal. So you open the tupperware container that has a handful of green grapes and take a few bites.

╰➤ There's something about working in an office environment that you enjoy. It's mostly independent-driven, which you prefer. You don't mind the quiet solace that comes along with being in your own office, surrounded by towers of paperwork and due dates. The system of doing the same tasks throughout the day—of working through the same checklists—always leaves you feeling at ease.

╰➤ Even the soft rings of telephones and fingers typing against keys provides you the same comfort that brown noise does for other individuals. Everything about your job is monotonous and ordinary, and therefore absolutely perfect.

╰➤ Your shoulders soon relax as you eavesdrop on a conversation between two coworkers huddled together on the other side of the break room. It's silly workplace gossip about other folks that you don't know, but for the sake of people watching, you allow yourself to become preoccupied with the way they interact with one another.

╰➤ Both of the girls are dressed in fashionable attire, with sleek knee high boots and pencils skirts. Their faces are painted with spotless makeup, nails freshly manicured and eyebrows perfectly arched. Your gaze travels back to your faded old jeans and dirty white New Balance sneakers.

╰➤ Sighing, you tug on the soft hem of your crew neck sweater, which you've thrown on due to the chilly air of the building. That's when a chair beside you squeaks. The legs are dragging against the tile floor due to someone pulling it out and sitting on it.

╰➤ You're met with the familiar features of Sevika. Her hair is pulled back into a perfectly sleek low-bun. There's a slight hint of mascara and eyeliner, barely noticeable if you hadn't already seen her on the days where she's bare faced. She smells of everything good; the walking embodiment of heaven.

╰➤ And she looks just as nice as she smells, with her beige button up and black slacks and matching black dress boots. She looks expensive. She always does.

╰➤ You blink, not only taken aback by her beauty, but also by her sudden presence. Isn't her lunch break supposed to be over by now?

╰➤ "Hi." She greets, which is nothing more than a murmur.

╰➤ Sevika has a very distinct way of communicating. Her lips move so fast that sometimes, you aren't sure if she's truly speaking or if it's all just your overactive imagination. She doesn't talk much, but when she does, it's intentional. You know that every word she does say is meant to be said. And you appreciate that trait about her.

╰➤ She's not the type to raise her voice. Out of all the encounters you've had with her, there's never been a time when she's even gotten remotely close to losing her composure. But a part of you is not sure if composure is the right word. Sevika just seems to be naturally indifferent; mellow. Constantly unbothered. That's what draws you to her. And that's why you feel a dose of comfort shoot through you at that moment. Her presence will probably always be welcomed, no matter what mood you're in.

╰➤ You give her a small smile in return before popping another grape into your mouth.

╰➤ She hovers for a bit. You're not sure what to say, or even if you should say something.

╰➤ "Not using the microwave today?" She adds.

╰➤ You force out a small chuckle. "No."

╰➤ Silence resumes.

╰➤ Her lashes are quite long.

╰➤ She really is beautiful.

╰➤ You glance away from her, absentmindedly playing with the tattered ends of your sleeves. Your left leg is crossed over your right, rocking back and forth out of habit. There's a moment when it lifts a bit too high, knocking into Sevika's shin.

╰➤ You grimace, "I'm sorry."

╰➤ Out of the corner of your eyes, you pick up on the movement of her broad shoulders shrugging. "It's all good."

╰➤ Your rocking resumes. You make sure to angle your body away from her after that; ensuring that you won't accidentally kick her again.

╰➤ Slowly, you nudge your container of grapes towards her, "Would you like some?"

╰➤ She hesitates, "No." Another pause, then, "It doesn't seem like you've eaten much of your lunch today."

╰➤ "I'm not as hungry as I usually am. It's been a rough day."

╰➤ She positions herself to where her elbows lean against the tabletop. It appears that she's inches closer and the smell of her practically overpowers you because of it. "Is it worth talking about?"

╰➤ You peer up at her, eyes widening when you see the dilation of her pupils. Her hands are clasped together, chin resting on her knuckles and grey eyes regarding you with interest. The squaring of her shoulders causes her muscular biceps to bulge through her beige dress-shirt. It's a gorgeous sight.

╰➤ Your heart stutters.

╰➤ "Um," You blink, trying to concentrate despite the ongoing brain fog. "I'm just sad today, Sevika." You swallow thickly, finding yourself inching a little closer with your chin resting on your own hand. "But there's not a particular reason why. It's ridiculous, to be honest. Simply one of those days, you know?"

╰➤ She shifts towards you.

╰➤ Your foot brushes against her calf.

╰➤ A solemn ease envelopes around the both of you as an expression of understanding trickles onto her features. She nods quietly.

╰➤ There's not much to say, or rather, not much that you want her to say. You're grateful that she doesn't make a huge deal of your admission. Sadness lives in every human throughout their life. Just sitting with her is enough to ease the tide waves of grief that has been rolling through you. At that moment, sitting in the break room with Sevika, your sadness somehow finds a way to transform into still water; a sea of tranquility solely from Sevika's presence.

╰➤ She hooks her foot around the leg of your chair, dragging you closer towards her. Your stomach does somersaults and if you weren't so flustered, you'd probably be brave enough to ask her why she's doing this. But instead, you're left trying to stabilize your heart and trembling fingers. You allow yourself to bask in her closeness.

╰➤ "Your sadness isn't ridiculous," Sevika begins, wetting her dark full lips. Her breath smells of peppermint. Your foot grazes against her calf again, this time for a few seconds longer. "I don't know who or what's made you believe that, but it never will be."

╰➤ The shift in her is abrupt; something powerful enough to cause you to gawk at her. With each passing second, all of your worries slowly begin to unspool and relax, because her words ring with unrelenting truth. You know that she 100% believes everything that she's just said. That's enough for you.

╰➤ "And I don't blame you." Sevika adds. "I mean, this job alone is enough to send anyone into a fucking spiral."

╰➤ You laugh for the first time today. Your palms rest against your cheek and your eyes crinkle shut momentarily. Somehow, she makes laughter on even the most difficult days easy. "Oh, I don't know." You respond, after finally calming down. "This place isn't so bad."

╰➤ "Are you sure?" Her eyebrows raise. "I find that very hard to believe."

╰➤ "Well, there are perks. Like the wattage for the microwave here...It's—what—1500? That's way better than the one in my apartment."

╰➤ She rolls her eyes, but you don't miss the way that they flash with amusement. "Sweetheart, no wonder you're depressed. You've turned to microwave usage as a source of entertainment."

╰➤ A giggle escapes you and you squirm in your seat from her teasing.

╰➤ Sweetheart.

╰➤ The pet name echoes in your ears.

╰➤ "There's not much else to be entertained by. The wallpapers here are quite dreadful."

╰➤ She grins, glancing at the wall behind you. "Oddly obsessed with microwaves and picky about interior design. Noted."

╰➤ Your nose scrunches as you fight off another smile, sighing melodramatically.

╰➤ Sevika looks as if she's going to speak again. But then her phone vibrates against the tabletop quietly. She grabs it, peering at the screen before exhaling. "That's my cue." She says with a reticent expression. "My lunch break is up."

╰➤ You feel yourself deflating but you do your best to cover it up, nodding instead. "I should be getting back too."

╰➤ You both stand up, the lingering tension in the atmosphere snapping like an elastic band. Sevika spares you one more look, pocketing her phone and stretching her arms. Her smile is small but the effects of it leaves you feeling disembodied.

╰➤ "See you around, sweetheart."

╰➤ Then she leaves.

╰➤ You stare at the door in front of you, trying to gain the courage to knock on it.

╰➤ This is ridiculous, really.

╰➤ You're ridiculous.

╰➤ Your palms are sweaty and your heart is beating entirely too fast. You want to turn around and walk back to your own office. You want to forget about ever doing this, or being delusional enough to think that this was a good idea.

╰➤ But you've already gone through the trouble and effort of preparing everything...

╰➤ Plus, numerous coworkers have witnessed you standing in front of this door for quite some time now. Turning around and walking away without even knocking would not only be embarrassing, but also probably attract some negative attention.

╰➤ Sucking in a breath, you raise your free hand, knock three times, then exhale.

╰➤ One second passes and you instantly regret it.

╰➤ You shouldn't have done this.

╰➤ You're sure numerous minutes pass before the door finally swings open—at least it feels that way. Round brown eyes greet you and your heart skips a few beats.

╰➤ You definitely should have thought this through a little more.

╰➤ "Oh, Kai." You breathe. "Hi."

╰➤ “Hey!” Surprise filters onto their features. "What are you doing here? Have you been standing out here for long? Sev—uh, you have…” They disappear behind the door, whispering something indiscreetly.

╰➤ "I was just stopping by." You shift your weight, growing uneasy. You try to glance past them but it's hard to see considering you're several inches shorter than them. "F-For um, well... I was hoping to speak to Sevika."

╰➤ Kai appears in front of you again, smirking impishly. “...Any minute now, Vika. It’s not like you have someone waiting out here for you or anything.”

╰➤ You swallow. Inconspicuously, you glance around you, hoping that no one is eavesdropping from their cubicles. "I was wanting to give her something. I'm sorry that I interrupted." You rub your palm against your forehead, not knowing where to go from here. "Honestly, it can wait. It's not urgent or anything. It's just a gift. I know we don't usually stop by each other's offices like this so I'm sorry for showing up unexpectedly. I just thought...I don't know. I can come back? Yeah, I'll just come back another time-"

╰➤ "That's not necessary." Sevika appears over the shoulder of Kai. Your chin tilts up in order to meet her gaze, and you take a few steps backwards, clasping your hands behind you. "You weren't interrupting anything." The handsome woman muses, brows raised. You marvel at the way that her eyes glaze over you, up and down, before settling on your face again.

╰➤ Nodding, you allow your attention to flicker to Kai, who is now standing in between the both of you with raised eyebrows. The awkwardness of it all makes you clear your throat, shuffling your feet and wishing you had thought of a better way to do this. Maybe you should haves waited until you saw Sevika again in the break room.

╰➤ "I’ll catch you guys later, okay?” Kai chirps, barely glancing at Sevika as they pocket their phone. They’re practically beaming at the both of you when they step past the door threshold. Then, they disappear behind the rows of cubicles.

╰➤ Your mind reels at everything that's just happened. You struggle to fully understand why the temperature of the central AC suddenly feels like a searing heat wave.

╰➤ When you peek over at Sevika, you find that she's already observing you. Her two front teeth sink into the plump flesh of her lower lip, eyes a darker shade of grey and swarming with undeniable heed. You can't help but admire her lips and how they appear to be perfectly crafted. They look softer than a billow of feathers, and you desperately want to touch them—want to feel them—and want to allow them to sweep you up into another world.

╰➤ That hunger inside of you grows, a specific feeling that she's only been able to bring out lately, and you know that no one can ever satiate such a desire but her.

╰➤ God.

╰➤ You've got it bad.

╰➤ She releases her lip and you become enamored with the way her throat jostles as she swallows. Painfully aware of your obvious staring, you force your attention back to her eyes.

╰➤ "I've got something for you," You say. Your voice is unfamiliar to your ears—huskier.

╰➤ Silently, she gestures for you to come in. You step forward and close the door behind you.

╰➤ Sevika's office is similar to yours. The desk and chair are quite the same, along with the filing cabinets and additional chairs for guests. But she also has a dark purple rug, with numerous framed pictures and a mini fridge shoved in the corner.

╰➤ A pair of dark purple curtains are drawn, allowing the sunlight to creep in, and more picture frames line the windowsill.

╰➤ Before you allow yourself to get too swept up with your surroundings, you turn to her and pull your left hand out from behind you, which holds a card. It's a simple blank one that you bought at the store and it has the words thank you written with one of your favorite sparkly ink pens, along with your signed name and lip print stained by your favorite lipstick shade. Above the personalized message are a few pairs of pressed tulips.

╰➤ "I just wanted to express my gratitude." You explain. She takes the card, staring down at it silently. "I was feeling a bit down the other day and you helped me by keeping me company. It may sound silly because it was just a simple conversation but," You shrug. "Conversation goes a long way sometimes. Especially for those that need it."

╰➤ Her thumb traces over one of the petals, lips parting and eyes widening. It's hard to know exactly what she's thinking and a part of you believes that maybe you've overstepped—that you've crossed an unspoken boundary. Her ongoing silence causes an unexpected panic to stir within you.

╰➤ Desperate to clean up a situation that you fear will go haywire, you open your mouth to say, "These are from a small garden that I’ve been trying to grow." Your forefinger hovers above her thumb, gesturing towards the flowers. "I pressed them myself, so that they won't die on you." You lick your lips, mouth feeling dry all of a sudden. Oh god. Why does she look like that? Why isn't she saying anything? This can't be good. "And I...well, now that I'm thinking about this, I'm realizing that this may be coming off as weird. I'm sorry. If I've made you like...uncomfy or anything, I totally understand and I'm sorry. My intention wasn't to make things weird."

╰➤ Her head raises at that, expression completely unguarded. It's rare when you're able to see unfiltered emotions flitting across her features. Sevika isn't the type to walk around with her heart on her sleeve. But with the way that she's looking at you, you realize that there's something unbelievably tender about her gaze.

╰➤ "And you'll probably tease me for this," You continue. You curse yourself for sounding breathless. Tearing your eyes away from her, you point at the card again. "But I used my microwave to press the flowers. Only because the other methods would have taken too long."

╰➤ That's when she laughs.

╰➤ You exhale softly from her hearty chuckles, relief immediately enveloping you.

╰➤ Laughter is a good sign.

╰➤ "I should have maybe waited to give you the card. I just didn't want to anticipate your reaction until noon, if I'm being honest." You wring out your hands, not able to shake the nervous jitters running through you. "I hope you like it."

╰➤ She runs her thumb over the material once more, lips rolling inwards before she rubs them together, deep in thought. You impatiently wait for a sign, any sign, that indicates her feelings towards your gesture.

╰➤ Her eyes, set deep above the plane of her cheekbones, slant as they peer downward towards the cardboard in her hand. She inhales through her nose, relaxes her lips, then exhales.

╰➤ "You didn't have to do this," She finally replies. "But of course I like it." She doesn't smile. However, you do notice a new light in her expression when she refocuses her attention on you. "Also, you apologize a lot." She pauses before adding, "...More than you need to. You haven't done anything weird at all."

╰➤ You want to bury your face in a pillow and squeal. But you settle for a smile instead. "Oh."

╰➤ Her lips crack into a knowing grin before she turns on her heel and walks over to her desk. She delicately positions the card so that it's standing upright next to a picture of her and a skinny brunette man. "The card is beautiful." She observes. Despite the natural raspiness of her voice, it has a warmer lilt to it now. "Thank you."

╰➤ You determine that Sevika thanking you is a new favorite. You want to shower her with endless gestures if it means that she'll continue to show fondness towards you.

╰➤ She leans against her desk, halfway sitting on the top surface, before shoving her hands in her pockets. Through the material of her slacks, you notice that they seem to be balled into fists.

╰➤You shift your weight as a strong sense of pride swells in your chest, opting to rest your shoulder against the door frame.

╰➤Only—you remember too late that nothing is actually beside you, and that the door frame is several paces behind you. Instead, you stumble when you realize that there's nothing close enough to catch your weight.

╰➤ Your arms sprout out in an attempt to catch your balance.

╰➤ "Um," You mumble dumbly, flustered by the mess that you've become. "...Thought there was a wall beside me." You clear your throat, attempting to right yourself again.

╰➤ Sevika stares at you, eyes dancing with merriment, as she struggles to swallow her chuckles. She forces out a few coughs, trying to cover up her mirth, but it's clear that she finds your lack of coordination entertaining.

╰➤ You rest your hands on your hips in an attempt to find a comfortable standing position. You want to cringe. You want to crawl under a rock and never be perceived again.

╰➤ You puff out your cheeks before blowing out a heavy exhale. The room feels really hot and your heart is doing backflips in your chest. You can't tell if it's because of your stupid schoolgirl crush or the embarrassment of nearly eating shit in front of Sevika.

╰➤ Probably a combination of both...

╰➤ "Gravity really hates me." You jest.

╰➤ Her grin widens. "I can tell."

╰➤ You let out an exasperated chuckle, palm reaching up to rub against your forehead. She has to be aware of her effect on you.

╰➤ Like it's just painfully obvious at this point.

╰➤ Right?

╰➤ Your lips part and your hands pool with more sweat and you feel like the biggest lovesick loser to ever exist. There she is, with her perfect face and perfect laugh and perfect everything. You've barely talked to this woman outside of lunch breaks yet here you are, giving her pressed fucking flowers and worshiping the ground she walks on just because she sat with you for a few minutes. There can't be any other way that you can become more obvious.

╰➤ Your hands are flailing ridiculously around you, towards her plush purple carpet and curtains and picture frames before you're saying, "Nice office by the way."

╰➤ And she's looking at you with that knowing expression that's borderline condescending, which you really love despite how much you want to hate it, when she replies, "Thanks, darling."

╰➤ You blink rapidly and try not to combust right then.

╰➤ Your feet carry you to a nearby bookshelf before you can think otherwise. A shitload of CD’s are neatly stacked on them with names of artists you didn't know anyone still listened to. You preoccupy yourself with shifting through them, trying your best to ignore the zoo erupting in your stomach. There’s collections of Nina Simone and Freddie Hubbard and Bill Withers. Your eyebrows raise at the eclectic catalogue, not bothering to swallow the surprise that sprouts within you. It should be known at this point that Sevika will never fail to surprise you.

╰➤ Your hands tremble as they hold an ABBA CD. They cling tighter to the plastic case, attempting to make the shaking less noticeable. Something warm brushes against your shoulder, before taking the CD from you. You peer at Sevika, observing the way that she wordlessly takes out the disc and moves to a CD player that is situated farther to your left.

╰➤ Despite her being concentrated on getting the speaker system to work, you’re totally enraptured by her. Her smell surrounds you like a cloud of ecstasy. Her hair is down today, a feathery cut that stops just below her jaw. Loose ends are tucked behind her ear, highlighting the rarest features of her face that you probably have overlooked before. Her lips purse together while she deeply concentrates, puffing out in a way that makes them look unbelievably inviting. Your breath catches, a prominent ache building between your thighs as the room fills with the beginning chords of The Winner Takes It All.

╰➤ She hums underneath her breath as the first verse begins, neatly placing the CD on top of the player. Slowly, her eyes drag back to you, unfocused and clearly lost in the music that fills the room. But then she freezes, seemingly not expecting you to already be observing her. The harmonies of the song contrast to the moment of stillness then; a corded tension falling between the two of you.

╰➤ The feelings you have in that moment are visceral. Your head is spinning and your heart is racing. No matter how hard you swallow, your throat remains dry and your skin yearns for her—for her touch and her warmth and her firmness.

╰➤ Your eyes burn and you have to blink rapidly in order to clear your vision. You can't understand why these feelings have hit you so suddenly, and why they're so intense for a woman that's only your coworker. But you try not to scold yourself too much, rubbing your palms against the material of your skirt instead.

╰➤ “What’s wrong?” She whispers, scanning your face.

╰➤ And that's when you realize how close you're standing to her. Maybe you were the one to step forward—or was it her?—and shorten the distance, but you can't know for sure. You should pull away. You should bid her a good day and return to your office (you'll have to be on the clock soon anyways) but you can't.

╰➤ You can't because it's too late. She’s already roped you in with her aloofness and cheshire grin and warm sultry voice. The window to escape has already passed. You're simply in too deep now.

╰➤ “You're just really fucking beautiful.” You blurt out.

╰➤ When Sevika registers what you've said, it seems like she stiffens in shock. Her lips part, a sharp breath being sucked in while her stare intensifies.

╰➤ You don't have enough wits to properly downplay your words or try to retract what you've said. The most you try to do is blink away the tears in your welling eyes and say, “I’m sorry.”

╰➤ You take a step back, then two. The reality of the situation hits you like a brick wall. You let out a heavy exhale, trying to calm the storm beginning to brew in your mind.

╰➤ Holy fuck.

╰➤ What if you’ve made her uncomfortable? You've clearly crossed a line. You're at work. In fifteen minutes, you’ll both be on the clock and trying to get your day started. This is inappropriate.

╰➤ You feel like employees from the Human Resources department will barge right in at any moment, confronting you about your intentions and hauling you off to be questioned. Guilt rumbles in you like an unrelenting river breaking through a dam.

╰➤ Sevika is shaking her head, eyes searching yours with growing alarm. “Sorry? Sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry fo-”

╰➤ “...with the flowers and the card and calling you beautiful. I shouldn't be doing those things and saying stuff like that. I mean, not because I don't think you're beautiful. You're so beautiful. It's just... Oh lord—I’m doing it again. Fuck. Frick. Uh,” You gulp, taking a few more steps backwards. “I just don't want to make you uncomfortable. I'm totally aware that we’re coworkers. And I don't wanna be that one creep in the office who-”

╰➤ “No, it's okay.” She shakes her head again, a small smile appearing on her face. “You haven't weirded me out at all.”

╰➤ You stop mid rant, mouth hanging open and eyes trailing back to her. “Are you sure?”

╰➤ “Completely sure.”

╰➤ Your attention hooks onto the details of her laugh lines. They become more prevalent as her smile widens. You want to brush your lips against hers and feel the curve of her laugh lines against your skin.

╰➤ You fight the urge, responding with, “Okay,” instead.

╰➤ She hums quietly underneath her breath, arms folding against her chest.

╰➤ “Okay,” She echoes. Her weight rocks backwards, a slight sway that causes her hair to brush lightly against her jawline. You're captivated by the sharp edge of her jaw—and how it seems to become even sharper with each passing second—as she momentarily clenches it.

╰➤ She’s opening her mouth to say something else when there's a knock on the door. “Sevika?” The silhouette of a woman, probably a coworker, shines through the frosted-glass door. Reality slams into you like a semi truck.

╰➤ Your heart jumps at the interruption. For some reason, you take a few more steps away from Sevika and your muscles tense.

╰➤ There's a hesitation that looms in the air.

╰➤ Sevika's eyes hold something undefinable. Her gaze is level and full of intent. And you can't understand why everything feels so convoluted right now.

╰➤ After a few agonizing seconds of silence, she sighs, shoulders falling as she shifts her attention to the ground. “Come in.”

╰➤ The door opens and a pretty brunette with glossy lips and mascara-coated eyes walks in. You've seen her numerous times throughout the day. She's one of the receptionists.

╰➤ She smiles at you and you're surprised when she greets you. You’ve never realized she knows your name.

╰➤ “Tara,” Sevika addresses. “What's up?”

╰➤ The receptionist turns to her, “I was trying to call you but it was going to voicemail. I wasn't sure if you’ve turned on your phone for the day? I’m really sorry for interrupting. But you have a gentleman waiting for you in the lobby, he says he has an 8 o’clock with you? I just wanted to confirm.” She clears her throat, shifting her weight awkwardly. Then she’s eying you again with a small smile. “I’m sorry—”

╰➤ “No, no. You're totally fine.” Sevika’s features morph into an expression that's more genial. “Did you catch his name? I do think I have an 8 o’clock, I just lost track of time.” She’s making her way over to the CD player, swiftly cutting it off. The music stops and the air stills.

╰➤ Hair stands on your skin as she walks to her desk, fiddling with a few buttons on her landline.

╰➤ “Yes,” Tara replies, glancing down at a yellow sticky note. “He’s from the branch in Chicago. He goes by…”

╰➤ “I’ll catch you later, Sevika.”Your voice is rushed and barely above a whisper. The feeling of overstaying your welcome floods you.

╰➤ Sevika glances up under her lashes, hands faltering from the paperwork she's rummaging through. You don't give her a chance to reply, simply shooting her a smile and wave before slipping out of her office.

╰➤ You sigh at the sign in front of you, bold words reading, BROKEN! PLEASE USE ANOTHER ONE on a piece of paper attached to the microwave. A low groan burns in the back of your throat. You’re starving. In fact, it’s been forever since you’ve let yourself grow this hungry.

╰➤ You didn't eat breakfast this morning. You were too preoccupied with thinking about Sevika’s gift, and how the hell were you going to give her a card with pressed flowers in a non-creepy way. But the task has been done, and for the most part, Sevika didn’t appear turned off by your gesture. So now, you are hungry.

╰➤ Your stomach growls and your mouth pools with saliva. Spinning on your heels, you march out of the break room, trying to think of any other parts of the building that has microwaves. Your floor definitely doesn’t, which means you would have to take the elevator. And you don’t want to do that, especially if it means having to walk through another department.

╰➤ Your mind is swarming with what ifs and maybe’s as you travel through rows of cubicles. The possibility of finding an unoccupied microwave is slim to none. If the one on your floor has been broken all morning, then there’s surely a growing line at the other ones. Dread gnaws at you and you huff with distaste.

╰➤ There’s a part of you that considers eating your food cold. But your nose wrinkles at the idea and it’s quickly disregarded.

╰➤ When you reach the elevator, you're met with the sight of Sevika leaning against the adjacent wall. She is lazily scrolling on her phone, her other hand occupying her pocket, and her cross body bag hanging off of one of her shoulders. Similar to the sudden dip of a rollercoaster ride—visceral and unexpected—a warmth spreads within you. Your head feels light–weightless even–and you can feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

╰➤ Your arm lifts and presses the button that summons the elevator. It’s a silly action, since you’re sure Sevika has already pressed it if she’s waiting for it to arrive. But you need something to do with your body; something that can expel some of the excess energy and calm your belly acrobatics.

╰➤ Your movement seems to catch Sevika’s attention, causing her scrolling to momentarily freeze as she glances up.

╰➤ Your gazes lock and your breath hitches and you’re pretty sure you begin to hear fireworks sounding in the distance. She smiles and you return the gesture. Or was it you that smiled first?

╰➤ “Hi,” You say.

╰➤ Her attention trails to the lower half of your face, lingering there for a few moments before climbing back up to your eyes. In a millisecond, she’s pushing off of the wall, body upright and phone slipping into her pocket. “Hey, you.” Her grin curves even more.

╰➤ You don’t know what’s making you feel so lovesick: the inviting cadence of her voice or the fact that she’s practically glowing. You don’t think you’ve ever seen any blemish on her face besides a few faded scars. Seriously–what kind of skin care routine did the robust woman have? You made a mental note to ask her.

╰➤ “The weather’s been nice today.” She adds.

╰➤ You fight off a chuckle, nodding in response. The conversation is elementary and completely like all the other ones that you’ve had with her countless times before. But you enjoy how mundane your chats are with Sevika. It isn’t really the topics that interest you rather than the calming consistency of her presence. The both of you could be counting the wall tiles to pass time for all you care.

╰➤ Sevika cards her fingers through her hair as she rolls her eyes at a corny dad joke you’ve just told. “Clever.” She quietly muses, husky voice thick with sarcasm. Her lips are fighting off a smirk though, so you know she isn’t as annoyed as she’s trying to seem.

╰➤ “Thanks.”

╰➤ When Sevika centers her weight, she peers at the carpet, causing a singular strand of hair to fall in front of her forehead. A small part of you wants to reach out and run your fingers through it, but you softly shake your head to refocus. You listen to the faint rings of telephones in the distance instead.

╰➤“Well,” You drag out, growing uncomfortable by the silence. “Did you have a good weekend?”

╰➤She lifts her head, nodding softly. “Yeah.” A slight pause. “I went to dinner with some friends on Saturday, and then we watched the superbowl on Sunday…Made a day out of it, really…” She clears her throat. “Yeah. It was nice… What about you?”

╰➤ You don’t register the swaying of your body until your shoulder brushes against her bicep. “It was okay, I guess. I finished a novel. Went grocery shopping…did some gardening.” You wrinkle your nose, embarrassment washing over you. “Probably not as fun or eventful as yours, I suppose.”

╰➤ “Ah,” She chuckles. Her bicep brushes against your shoulder again. You can’t decipher if it was her fault or yours this time. “I doubt that.”

╰➤ You offer a thoughtful hum, but keep quiet otherwise.

╰➤ The elevator sounds with a soft ding! All too soon, Sevika is encouraging you to step on board before her.

╰➤ “Hi Shane,” You say, smiling at the coworker that is already inside of the service lift. He barely regards you, lips frowning and worry lines prevalent on his forehead. He takes off his baseball cap momentarily, revealing a receding hairline glistening with sweat, before wiping it off with the back of his hand and repositioning the cap.

╰➤ “Hi.” The middle aged man grumbles. He nearly throws a fit when Sevika takes her time walking through the elevator doors. His face is firetruck red, left foot tapping impatiently as his finger presses the button for the 8th floor.

╰➤ Your eyebrows shoot up and you look at Sevika. She observes the entire situation with passive amusement.

╰➤ “Stupid elevators.” Shane grumbles.

╰➤ You press your lips together, trying your best to refrain from laughing while reaching around him to press the button for the 6th floor. Usually, there’s a few microwaves on that one. “Where to?” You angle your head towards Sevika.

╰➤ “6th floor as well.”

╰➤ The atmosphere fills with the trademark grinding of the elevator and Shane’s disgruntled mumbling. The minutes tick by agonizingly slow and you even feel bad for giggling quietly when Shane huffs again, looking up at the ceiling with a grinding jaw.

╰➤ Your fingers press against your lips in an attempt to remain calm, and your eyes flit over to Sevika knowingly.

╰➤ Shane’s always been pegged as overly anxious and impatient in the office. He seems to be perpetually unhappy with everyone and everything. He seems to just be unhappy in general.

╰➤ A few levels down, the doors open and relief fills you. Riding the elevator with a fretful Shane definitely wasn’t on the top of today’s To-Do list. But then you falter at the sight of a plain concrete wall in front of you. Your eyebrows furrow and you glance back at the row of buttons. The number 6 is no longer illuminated, but you certainly aren’t facing the cubicles on the 6th floor right now.

╰➤ "Shit…" Sevika mumbles. “This isn’t good.”

╰➤ “Oh, come on!” The elevator shakes slightly in response to Shane obnoxiously stomping his foot.

╰➤ Your breath hitches and you feel your arms searching frantically, trying to grab onto something to ground you, but only finding empty air.

╰➤ Sevika’s already scanning the surroundings, probably for an emergency call box. You don’t say anything. You’re not sure if you can.

╰➤ Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.

╰➤ “I can’t believe this!” Shane’s voice is several pitches higher now. “I’m going to miss my appointment. Dammit!” He stomps his foot again, snatching his cap off. It falls to the ground and his hands tightly grip his hair–or, what’s left of it.

╰➤Sevika’s head snaps in the general direction of his. “Let’s not do that.” Her voice is icy. It comes off as a command instead of a suggestion and even you find yourself trying to gain your bearings.

╰➤ Shane sends her a glare but he makes sure to keep his foot planted and his mouth shut.

╰➤ Your eyes are burning and you're beginning to find it hard to breathe.

╰➤ You’re stuck.

╰➤ The elevator is fucking stuck.

╰➤ No–you can’t freak out. That won’t help.

╰➤ Your hands are bunching against the material of your clothing, feet working into nervous tapping. Oh God.

╰➤ Oh God.

╰➤ Sevika finally finds a button next to an icon with the emergency bell symbol, which doesn’t seem to be immediately obvious at first glance. The noise is loud and jarring when she presses it, before an automated voice begins to speak words that you can’t fully register.

╰➤ And then she’s talking with an operator, that much you can process, but it’s all blurring together too much for your liking.

╰➤ Shane is breathing loud. Annoyingly loud in fact.

╰➤ You want to tell him to shut the hell up, especially when he starts crying, but you can barely see through your blurred vision and it doesn’t seem like your body will listen to your brain even if you will it to.

╰➤ Then there’s warm hands pressing into your shoulders, squeezing them, before lowering to your elbows.

╰➤ “It’s okay,” Sevika reassures. “I just talked to the operator. They’re going to try to reset the system.”

╰➤ You shake your head and grip onto her shirt. “We're going to die.”

╰➤ “Hey,” Her breath fans against your cheeks as she ducks down to look at you levelly. Her touch retracks before you feel warmness on your face. Her thumbs are swiping your skin. “Sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay.”

╰➤ That’s when you realize that you’re the one who’s breathing heavy, because you’re also the one who’s crying. Her thumbs are wiping away your tears.

╰➤ “Sev…” You respond, breath ragged. “I’m sorry. I’m just scared, I-”

╰➤ “It’s an honest human reaction.” Her lips brush against your left earlobe as she pulls you in for a hug. “...Better than stomping your foot and shaking the entire cabin, that’s for sure.”

╰➤ You let out an ugly combination of a sob and laugh.

╰➤ “Not funny, you asshole.” Shane isn’t too happy with the jest.

╰➤ “Hey!” You find yourself objecting. You lift your head but know it’s no use. Sevika’s too tall for you to be able to see over her. “Be nice, you two.”

╰➤ Shane grumbles a few other curse words, this time much quieter. Sevika tightens her hold around your waist, nose rubbing into your shoulder with an odd tenderness, but she doesn’t say anything else.

╰➤ You’re sniffling as you try to relax in her hold. You’ve given up the task of restarting your heart because you know that you’ll never be able to truly calm down until you’re safely out of this elevator. But for the meantime, you try to distract yourself with the smell of Sevika, and the feeling of her pressed against you. You cling onto her like a raft in the middle of a storm, praying that she can continue to keep your worries at bay.

╰➤ “Sev,” You say again, voice shaking. “I’m really scared.”

╰➤ “I know.”

╰➤ The elevator slips down a considerable amount, causing the both of you to lose your footing and nearly fall. Your scream melts into a gurgle of cries as Sevika curses lowly.

╰➤ She lowers the both of you to the floor, hands attempting to steady you. The panic you feel is definitely taking over now.

╰➤ “We’re going to die.” You hiccup, eyes widening.

╰➤ “Darling,” Sevika pauses. You almost believe that she’s trying to gather more patience, and you can’t blame her if she is. But the pause is too brief for you to know for sure. “We aren’t going to die. Hey–”

╰➤ Her fingers are gingerly pinching your chin, urging you to meet her gaze. An air of passivity rolls off of her. “Can you breathe with me? You’re hyperventilating.” Her brows begin to furrow. “I can’t have you passing out on me, you know.”

╰➤ “We won't make it out of here.”

╰➤ Her lips fix into a thin line, “Do you trust me?”

╰➤ Your reply is immediate, “Yes.”

╰➤ “Can you trust that I will make sure you get out of here safely?” Her palms begin to press against the sides of your face, holding you close to her. She strokes the apples of your cheek with her thumbs, expression pensive. “I've got you. I…” She wets her lips, eyes flickering with an odd light. “I promise.”

╰➤ A few stray tears escape your eyes, rolling down your face and onto her palms. You inhale a long shuddering breath as you nod, mouth souring everytime you think of your current predicament.

╰➤ “Okay.” You rasp.

╰➤ The both of you are a breath apart, huddled in one of the corners. That's when you realize that you're actually sitting in her lap.

╰➤ “I just can't believe I’m stuck here simply because I was wanting to use the 6th floor microwave.” Your eyes flicker shut, another wave of doom hitting you. “I just wanted some lasagna!”

╰➤ Sevika laughs. “If only you took the stairs.”

╰➤ “I know, right? I don't usually because I'm lazy, but maybe-”

╰➤ “I get that this is an emotional moment right now,” Shane grunts. “But does anyone have a bottle or something? I really need to piss.”

╰➤ Your nose crinkles. Ew.

╰➤ Sevika grinds her jaw. “You will keep your pants on, or so help me God…”

╰➤ “Okay, okay. I got it.”

╰➤ You clear your throat, shifting in her lap and glancing at Shane. He has his left leg crossed over his right, legs tense and face seemingly straining with concentrated effort. A vein is bulging out of his neck and sweat is gathering around his forehead again.

╰➤ “Tell me another one of your lame jokes.” Sevika whispers, completely disregarding him and squeezing you closer to her.

╰➤ The shift in conversation feels like emotional whiplash.

╰➤ Everything about today has been weird. You never thought a day would come where you're actually sitting in her lap, and being comforted in the most gentle way.

╰➤ But then again, you never anticipated getting stuck in an elevator with her so…

╰➤ “They are not lame.” You refute, feigning offense. “They're dad jokes.”

╰➤ “Okay, well...” Her attention zeroes in on your nose. One of her hands raises, brushing at it before inspecting a small fuzzy and flicking it away. “Tell me one of them.”

╰➤ Your blink in thought, scanning your brain for one that you haven't told her yet. It's starting to become hard to decipher which jokes you have and haven't shared with Sevika, especially as the months continue to carry on. You fear that you'll run out of them sooner than you’d like to (at least the funny ones) and then you won't know how else to entertain her.

╰➤ “What do you call a fake noodle?”

╰➤ Her forehead scrunches as she ponders on a possible answer.

╰➤ A slow smile curves at your lips while you mutter, “An impasta.”

╰➤ You can practically see the gears in her brain shifting before she registers the pun. Her lips are puffy from constantly being chewed on when they pull into a playful scowl. The tiniest wrinkles appear along the slope of her nose as she scrunches it, eyes peering at you through narrowed slits.

╰➤ “You're ridiculous.”

╰➤ That causes you to laugh, heart warming at the slight annoyance in her voice. “Ridiculously funny and charming? Sure.”

╰➤ “...Oh my god.”

╰➤ “You love my jokes, just admit it.”

╰➤ “Sweetheart…They're not actually yours. I know you google them.”

╰➤ “ It's my delivery though. No one delivers jokes better than I do. It takes actual skill.”

╰➤ “Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

╰➤ “...There's the timing you have to consider and the vocal inflection.” Your hands fall down her arms, resting in your lap as they tug on one another. “It involves real artistry.”

╰➤ “How dumb of me to think otherwi-”

╰➤ “Oh, thank you! God! Thank you!”

╰➤ You jump at Shane’s outburst, examining the way he stands to his feet, a grin breaking across his face. He’s pointing at the elevator doors, which are now closing. A low hum fills the air. Soon after, the sound of cogs becomes louder and the elevator begins moving.

╰➤ You and Sevika startle at the sudden shift, moment now broken. When you peer at her, she's smiling softly, grey irises drinking in every one of your features.

╰➤”I told you we’d be okay.” She says.

╰➤You're too relieved to properly respond, allowing her to help you stand up instead.

╰➤ The intercom beeps and a voice says, "Rescue team here. Please remind us how many people are there with you?"

╰➤ “If you feel any sort of stress from today, please don't hesitate to use this number.” Cam says as he shoves a business card into your hand.

╰➤ You roll your eyes. “I’ll be fine. I swear.”

╰➤ “There's no shame in using the services, I promise. Just input your employee number and the company code on the website and it’ll—”

╰➤ “Cam,” Your left hand reaches up to squeeze his shoulder. You make sure to hold his gaze. “I’m totally fine now, I promise. I’ll admit that it shook me up a little, because it felt like we were going to be stuck in there forever. But everything's okay.”

╰➤ He scans your face, searching for any sign that you're being untruthful. When he doesn't find any, he nods smally. “Go home.” His stare becomes stern. “Take it easy for the next few days.”

╰➤ “Cam—”

╰➤ “I’m serious! If you go back to your office for the rest of the day, I’ll take a deduction from your wages.”

╰➤ You roll your eyes, “That doesn’t sound legal.”

╰➤ “I’m sorry, I can't hear you anymore.” He shrugs his shoulders, pacing a few steps backwards. “I have meetings to attend now.” He doesn't allow you to object, adding, “Have a good weekend, kid,” before turning around and leaving the room.

╰➤ It hasn't been long since you’ve been rescued from the elevator—maybe 30 minutes, at most. Cam made his way over to the three of you once he received notice of everything. You feel relatively fine. The medics accessed you first, since you seemed to be the most shaken up when they arrived. And ever since they finished, Cam has somehow convinced himself that you, Shane and Sevika should take the rest of the day off.

╰➤ He also seemed adamant about offering you the free therapy services that your company provides, hence the business card in your hand. But you feel like it might be a desperate gesture to cover his ass. Surely, this isn't the first time that someone's been stuck in the elevator while on the clock.

╰➤ The medic team seems to just be finishing their assessment with Sevika and Shane now. You stand off to the side, watching helplessly, as Sevika sits in a chair and chats casually with a buff paramedic woman.

╰➤ The three of you were momentarily moved to a nearby conference room when rescued from the elevator. One of the office supervisors said it was to give you all a space to “wind down and decompress.” But you're pretty sure it's because the company is trying to gloss over the elevator incident.

╰➤ The door to the conference room opens and you're met with the familiar face of Kai. Their eyes are wide—frantic—as they scan the area.

╰➤ “Dude,” They gasp, attention on Sevika. “You won't believe the stuff that's circulating the office right now…it's some crazy shit!”

╰➤ Then they’re grabbing one of the chairs closest to Sevika, plopping down in it. “Are you guys okay? Seriously, what the fuck happened?”

╰➤ “We were stuck in that stupid contraption.” Shane butts in. “We could have died and they only care about giving us PTO and a stupid link to telehealth.”

╰➤ It's the first time you've heard him talk since stepping off of the elevator.

╰➤ “I missed my damn appointment and the fee I’ll get charged is ridiculous,” He slams his hand on the table, fingers spreading out against the surface and jaw grinding. “I’m gonna sue these motherfuckers.”

╰➤ Surrounding medics have been slowly packing up their equipment, but they momentarily freeze at the sound of Shane's threat. The one closest to Sevika lifts an eyebrow, expression bemused as she pockets her phone.

╰➤ “I’m not sure if you can do that, Shane.” Kai quirks. Their eyes dance with humor as they swallow a chuckle.

╰➤ “I’m 62. I can do whatever the hell I want!”

╰➤ Kai nods, slightly taken aback. “Touché.”

╰➤ Shane grumbles under his breath, standing to his feet with the help of a nearby medic. He’s slightly hunched over, gripping the lower part of his back while he hobbles to the entrance door.

╰➤ “Bye Shane!” You call.

╰➤ He waves you off irritably, not bothering to turn around and give you a proper farewell.

╰➤ “And they said you fainted when the rescue team came,” Kai turns to you, expression morphing into something kinder. You think you see their eyes travel to Sevika for a split second, but you conclude that it’s just your overactive imagination. “How are you feeling now?”

╰➤ You laugh incredulously, “Do people just live to gossip here? That was barely an hour ago.”

╰➤ “It's not like there's much else to do around these parts,” Kai grins wickedly. “Besides the scandalous office romances that people chat about. But that's old news. This is the most exciting thing we’ve had since Christmas!”

╰➤ You laugh harder, hands coming up to rest against your cheeks as you work through your shock. “That's one way to put it.”

╰➤ The three of you are alone now since the last two medics managed to slip out of the room inconspicuously. And now it's harder to escape the overwhelming fatigue that looms in the air. Secretly, you thank Cam for giving you the rest of the day off.

╰➤ “I have to get back soon. I’m supposed to be meeting the Amazon delivery driver in t minus one minute.”

╰➤ “Oh my god,” Sevika rumbles, shoving her friend out of their seat. “Go do your job.”

╰➤ “Yes ma’am.” Kai wipes their hands on their jeans, leaning down and kissing Sevika on the cheek before ruffling her hair. “I’m glad you didn't like, die or anything, loser.”

╰➤ Sevika merely grunts.

╰➤ Kai winks at you, “Bye lovebirds!”

╰➤ And then there were two.

╰➤ You carefully pivot to face the herculean woman a few feet away from you. The crease between her brows, even though heavily prevalent when Kai was here many seconds ago, are now gone. She stares at you for a beat, lower lip caught between her teeth and hands drumming against the muscles of her thighs.

╰➤ “Sorry about Kai. They're a bit childish sometimes.” Sevika mutters. But despite her words, you can tell she thinks fondly of Kai.

╰➤ “I like them.” You find yourself admitting. “They’re funny.”

╰➤ “They’re annoying.”

╰➤ Her lips twitch into the smallest hint of a grin. Your own smile grows and subsequently, her eyelids flutter. In the midst of today's chaos and fading professionalism, the heart of something tender passes between the both of you. The air cracks and sparks fly. It's fleeting—but it's there.

╰➤ Her throat jostles as she swallows, “How are you feeling?”

╰➤ There's an unmistakable burn within you that her question creates. “I’m better than before.”

╰➤ Her eyes trail down your body, then back up to your face. You assume that it's a mistake. But then her gaze wanders again, and this time it's for longer. This time, it has more intent. Your stomach flips.

╰➤ Her lips barely move when she responds, “Good.”

╰➤ You sense the moment slipping away, and a tiny part of your brain nudges you to leave the room and go home. God-forbid Cam stumbles back in and sees that you're still here. But for some reason, you hover.

╰➤ “Thanks for earlier, by the way,” Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth and your hands are growing clammy. “For helping me and stuff.”

╰➤ And stuff.

╰➤ You're not sure if thanking her for the other stuff is appropriate, considering you were practically straddling her and holding onto her in ways that's crossed many, many lines. But that seems to be the ongoing trend between you and Sevika; you cross too many lines with her.

╰➤ “No need to be thanking me.”

╰➤ You shrug, “...Was still kind of you.”

╰➤ Her lips rub together and that's when you realize how soft they look. A small hum escapes her and you watch inquisitively as she opens her mouth.

╰➤ But then nothing comes out, leaving her with a slack jaw and gaping mouth. Your brows start to furrow, chest tightening while several more beats pass and Sevika remains dazed.

╰➤ A whooshing sound fills the air due to the AC turning on. Dust particles begin to circulate around you, and your ankles are tickled by the new draft blowing from the vents.

╰➤ “Is everything okay?” You try to keep the worry out of your voice, but the shift in her is abrupt.

╰➤ Her eyes cloud over with something indescribable, a sense of apprehension rolling off of her in thick waves.

╰➤ “Um,” Her words drag and her eyes dart away from you. They settle on an empty space between you and the nearby wall. Her body is completely rigid, as if the floor will give out at any moment. “Would you ever want to hang out?”

╰➤ Your heart crawls up the walls of your esophagus, beating with all of it’s might.

╰➤ You shift your feet, then tug at your fingers.

╰➤ “Like, outside of work?” She clarifies. She dodges your eyes, settling on the other details of you instead; like your restless feet and your fidgeting hands.

╰➤ “You’d want to do that?��

╰➤ “Well,” She gives you a sidelong glance. “I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't.”

╰➤ Your internal debate resolves and your smile stretches wide—so wide that you think your cheeks are becoming sore.

╰➤ “Oh,” Your voice is barely above a whisper, so you have to clear your throat. “Okay. Well, I want to also.”

╰➤ She mirrors you and breaks into a silly grin, gap visible and nose wrinkling.

╰➤ “Just let me know when,” You add. “And I’ll be down.”

╰➤ “How about Saturday?”

╰➤ “Um—wow. I didn't know you meant so soon. Will Kai be okay with you choosing the day on their behalf?”

╰➤ Her eyebrows shoot up. “Kai?”

╰➤ “Yeah, have you even asked if…” Oh.

╰➤ Oh.

╰➤ Your gut ignites at the revelation.

╰➤ The greys in her irises darken an alluring shade.

╰➤ “Okay,” You nod, understanding completely now. She doesn't need to say anything more for you to realize the full weight of her offer.

╰➤ God.

╰➤ Oh God.

╰➤ You've dreamt about this moment for months but you never thought it’d actually come true.

╰➤ “Okay,” She parrots. “It's a date, then?”

╰➤ Your toes curl inside your shoes. Nodding enthusiastically, you confirm, “Definitely.”

╰➤ You never are the type to enjoy the action of driving cars.

╰➤ It’s mostly to do with the fact that your life could very well be in someone else’s hands. The likelihood of surviving another day without being in a car accident feels like sheer luck sometimes.

╰➤ But your road anxiety is heightened even more as you brave the heavy city traffic, trying not to pee your pants at the idea of being near Sevika in less than an hour.

╰➤ You exhale, drumming your fingers against the steering wheel restlessly. Why is this taking so long?

╰➤ After ages of waiting, you’re finally able to get to the other side of town. It’s quieter here and far less busy. Sevika texted you the suggestion this morning and you immediately agreed–the quieter, the better.

╰➤ But your heart stops when you find yourself parked in front of a towering brownstone building, with multi-story terraces and sleek black protective gates. The streets are nearly empty and the distant chirp of birds fill the air.

╰➤ Your lips are pulling into a frown when you look at your phone screen, reading, You have arrived at your destination for the nth time.

╰➤ Swiping away from the GPS app, you allow your thumbs to click on Sevika’s contact number.

╰➤ Two rings sound before she answers, “Hello?”

╰➤ “Hi–” You crane your neck to look out of your window. “I think I‘m here? I’m not sure where your place exactly is though...”

╰➤ You hear shuffling on the other line along with the soft hum of music. Then you see movement from a window on the second floor. Curtains are pushed aside and a familiar figure comes into view. The sliding glass of the terrace door is pushed open, and she’s sticking her head out, scanning the row of cars lined up along the street.

╰➤ “Oh,” You breathe, heart stuttering. “Nevermind. I see you.”

╰➤ You remain seated in your car, like an idiot, while her eyes lock with yours.

╰➤ Then she grins, which is a heartbreakingly beautiful thing to witness.

╰➤ “Sorry for being late,” You rasp into the receiver, eyes never leaving hers. “I got stuck in traffic.”

╰➤ “You’re two minutes late, sweetheart.” Her voice is thick with amusement. “That’s hardly anything to fuss about.”

╰➤ The following stretch of nothing is almost too painful to bear. Something is holding you back from stepping out of the car. Whether it be fear or nerves, you can’t really tell. All you know is that this feels like uncharted territory.

╰➤ “I’ll come down and get you,” She says. You nod. She disappears into her apartment and the line goes dead.

╰➤ The air of Sevika’s apartment smells overwhelmingly like her: woodsy with a hint of apple cinnamon. Your shoes click against the floorboard when she guides you through the doorway, knuckles brushing against your forearm and leaving a fire in its wake.

╰➤ “This is me.” Her voice is soft around the lock of the deadbolt and chain guard. There’s a lowly dimmed lamp hanging from the ceiling, a coat rack placed in the corner and a sitting bench to your left. She looks over slowly–hesitantly; as if she’s trying to gauge your reaction.

╰➤ You find yourself swallowing thickly as you’re smacked with another smell of her.

╰➤ When you don’t respond, she toes out of her shoes, movements quiet and swift. Silently, you follow her lead. She gathers your boots with hers and positions them underneath the sitting bench.

╰➤ “This way,” She mumbles. You allow her to side-step, walking down the hall and toward a connecting room, where you faintly see a burgundy living room set. The walk down the corridor almost feels too quick, since you keep getting distracted by the countless art and picture frames lined up on her wall. You realize that the walls appear to be so decorated that you don’t see much of the paint.

╰➤ Her living room appears to be similar, littered with different pieces of art and photographs that you could stare at for hours if given the chance. The atmosphere is tranquil but the furniture and color scheme is deliberate and poised. The ceiling is much higher than yours and the windows are fairly large. Much of the interior is splashed with dark velvety hues of red and purple.

╰➤ Two brimming bookshelves stretch to the ceiling, lined with countless collections of CDs and novels. The brick fireplace is already lit and emmenates a warm glow around the room. Sevika’s gaze is clear and level when you peer at her. And her eyebrows lift inquisitively.

╰➤ “It’s…” Your voice cracks, causing you to clear your throat. “This is really nice.”

╰➤ Her head is tilted, eyes squinting ever-so-slightly with a nature that is purely meditative; as if she’s trying to pick out any signs of dishonesty. The burning sensation of her dissection is potent. Your mouth pools with saliva as the seconds tick by.

╰➤ A low whistle escapes you as you try to compensate for the tension. “Why so quiet?” Your legs shuffle.

╰➤ She licks her lips and hums. “Just trying to make sure this is okay.”

╰➤ “What?” Your eyebrows are furrowing.

╰➤ She gestures at your surroundings, “This. My home—at least, that you’re comfortable being here. If you prefer to spend time in a more public place, then…”

╰➤ “Oh.” Your features relax. She’s trying to be polite. “No. This is fine, Sev. I’m always comfortable around you.” You wipe your sweaty palms against the material of your pants.

╰➤ Her eyes follow the movement of your hands, before they linger on the lower half of your body for the tenth of a second while her jaw flexes. You gaze at her with growing anticipation due to the dead silence. She takes a long inhale through her nose, refocusing her attention back to your eyes with what seems like a great deal of concentration.

╰➤ A shaky smile spreads across your lips. You travel over to one of the nearby bookshelves, which holds a CD player that’s currently playing a smooth jazz solo. You have to find something to do—anything—other than stand there and grow lustful under her pressing gaze.

╰➤ “You have quite a collection,” You begin.

╰➤ Your back is turned to her as you look through the cases that are neatly stacked together. Despite being covered with clothing, the skin of your back grows hot, as if her gaze is seeping straight through the material of your shirt.

╰➤ “A lot of them were my parents. They loved collecting music.”

╰➤ You don't have the heart or gall to mention the past-tense reference of her parents. Instead, you nod.

╰➤ You feel like you're hypervigilant to everything about her in that moment. The sound of her weight traveling across the carpet becomes heightened, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand when you see her shadow appearing out of the corner of your eye. When you look towards your left, you struggle to contain the zoo that rips through your stomach. She's close. Very close.

╰➤ Her shoulders brush against yours while she reaches across you to turn down the stereo. "You can pick something else if you want," Her voice dips into something low and syrupy. "I don't know what type of music you like." Then she's walking away. Your eyes follow her as she disappears into another room. "Are you thirsty?"

╰➤ "I'll listen to practically anything as long as it's not country." You shuffle through the CD's, stopping when a particular one catches your eye. A classic. "What do you have?"

╰➤ Once you've replaced the CD with one of your choice, you mosey into the other room to join her. It's a kitchen, fairly minimalist compared to the living room, and painted with nearly all black decor. The sight of Sevika standing there is unfamiliar. Her hair is tied up in a half up half down, small tendrils escaping and brushing against the sides of her face. Her nose is wrinkled, eyes squinted and lip rolled inwards.

╰➤ She leans most of her weight onto her hands, which are resting on the surface of the kitchen island. Her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows, and attention is focused acutely on a book that's sitting on the counter. Something savory wafts in the air and you spy a stove behind her that seems to be emanating an exceptional amount of warmth.

╰➤ "Um," you mumble. "Is everything okay?"

╰➤ Her eyes flicker up to meet yours, at first holding something distant, before they cloud over with an undeniable light. Her hands tighten into fists, pressing against the marble countertop before she relaxes them. Then she's standing upright, one arm falling to her side while the other rubs against her forehead. "I'm..." Her words trail off as she glances at the watch on her wrist. "Fuck."

╰➤ Then she's whipping around, opening the oven door. A small cloud of smoke appears.

╰➤ "What are you cooking?" You close the distance between the two of you, swiping through the smoke before peering into the oven.

╰➤ "Nothing anymore." She sighs. "It was supposed to be—"

╰➤ "Lasagna."

╰➤ You reach for the oven mitts sitting on the nearby countertop, slipping them on before grabbing the deep-dish pan.

╰➤ "I noticed you have it a lot." She continues. "I just thought—since you seem to like it..."

╰➤ You set it on the hot pads, inspecting the top layer of the pasta dish.

╰➤ "Actually, it doesn't look too bad." You say. "It'll have to go back in, and we'll need to turn the heat down to 375, so that it cooks all the way through the layers without scorchi—"

╰➤ That's when it hits you.

╰➤ "Wait," You abruptly right yourself, snapping your head towards her. She's already watching you, drinking in everything you were saying. Her eyebrows raise at your outburst. Hands still covered in mittens, you're stepping around her, doing a double take at the book that's still open on the kitchen island. "Is that a cookbook?"

╰➤ She doesn't immediately respond.

╰➤ When you crane you neck to get a better look, you're barely registering the words Classic Homemade Lasagna Recipe before her large hand abruptly lands on the book with a loud smack! Her fingers are outstretched, keeping you from being able to see majority of what's written. But it's too late, your assumption has already been proven right.

╰➤ The book is shut before you can say anything else. She opens an overhead cupboard, sliding it in there with one quick motion.

╰➤ "Oh my god," You fight off a wave of giggles, lips stretching into a wide grin. "That was definitely a cookbook."

╰➤ She brushes a few loose hairs out of her face and chooses to avoid your gaze.

╰➤ The stillness that follows is nearly unbearable. In the distance, you hear the current song from the CD player fading out. A car is honking from the street outside and the buzz of the AC comes on. You're still turned towards her, hands covered by her oven mitts and cheeks aching from the smile on your face. She continues to dodge you; resolute.

╰➤ You can't contain your laughter anymore. It's bellows out of you like a songbird breaking free from its cage. That seems to finally draw her attention, and wills her to glance at you. Upon locking eyes, slowly, she smiles an equally warm grin.

╰➤ And just like that, the elastic band of tension that existed all evening snaps.

╰➤ Her laughter quickly follows yours, deeper and soothing and just as beautiful as the last time you heard it. Her rigid stance melts away and her fingers relax.

╰➤ "Sev, why—" You wet your lips. "You didn't have to go out of your way to a get recipe and make this. I would have been fine with take-out."

╰➤ "Kai sent me the link to the cookbook yesterday and I figured why not. It was only $20," She rolls her eyes. "Plus it has better reviews that the lasagna recipes I was looking at online."

╰➤ The cookbook was only $20.

╰➤ Adrenaline courses through your veins from such an implication. Sevika bought a cookbook just to make one of your favorite foods. No one's ever done something like that for you before.

╰➤ No one's ever paid close enough attention to even notice your love for lasagna.

╰➤ The way Sevika always manages to nonchalantly flatter you will forever be something you struggle to fathom.

╰➤ You're biting the inside of your cheek, trying your best to contain your buzzing excitement as you place the pan back into the oven. Your back remains turned to her, stomach flipping and fingers nimble.

╰➤ "This is very kind of you to do," You find yourself muttering.

╰➤ "I mean," The sound of her body weight shifting is subtle. "It's our first date. It's the least I could do."

╰➤ "Still kind."

╰➤ You don't allow yourself to brush over one of her many kind gestures. You don't allow yourself to take any of this for granted. Sevika has been very good to you, especially in a world where people haven't been in the past. Often times, she's been more than just your friendly coworker.

╰➤ Whether she wants to admit it or not, she's the one who's actually a sweetheart.

╰➤ "Why don't you like to accept my compliments?" You inquire. You take off her oven mitts, setting them on a nearby counter-space before turning around. Droplets of perspiration trickle down your forehead and the back of your neck. You wipe them away with the palm of your hand, stepping away from the searing hot oven and towards her.

╰➤ Sevika is resting against the kitchen island, arms crossed over her chest and eyes solely fixed on you. You don't miss the way her jaw flexes as you come closer. But you choose to ignore it, positioning yourself to where your right hip is pressed against the island cupboards, just off of Sevika's left shoulder.

╰➤ "Because most of the time, I'm not doing anything extraordinary." She wrinkles her nose. "It's the bare minimum, actually."

╰➤ "Well," You almost come to a standstill as you rack your brain for an appropriate response. "I still appreciate it."

╰➤ That's when you send her a smile. Similar to an innate feeling, you expect her to return the gesture, since there's never really been a time that Sevika hasn't.

╰➤ But the seconds continue to stretch and her smile never appears.

╰➤ Her lips part and her throat bobs as she swallows thickly. You don't think you've seen her eyes look so lucid before.

╰➤ A part of you wants to be consumed by her. You want her to have you; in whatever way that would mean for her. You'd be happy with any scenario. But another part also wants you to remain present in this moment; to fully cling onto every moment that passes with you in her presence. It's a heartbreakingly beautiful conundrum to be in.

╰➤ "The bare minimum barely checks off the list. You know that, right?" Her voice is firm during this wake of silence. Assertive. Strong. But her words manage to undue something within you; something you didn't even know was tightly wound to begin with. "You deserve to receive so much more than the bare minimum from someone. And you deserve to not have to thank them for that."

╰➤ She says it with such conviction that you almost believe that she's been thinking about this for a while.

╰➤Hearing those words nearly break you.

╰➤ They're arguably obvious. But despite how much the general public likes to make instagram captions and TedTalks about it, you've never really been told this before. Not directly. Not with such certainty.

╰➤ "And," She wets her lips, eyes darting away from you for the first time. "Of course I don't want to be too full on this soon. I'd like to think cooking you one of your favorite foods would give me a good start. But there's—" She's shaking her head with creases forming in between her brows. "...a lot more that I want to offer to you other than shitty lasagna."

╰➤ You don't respond for a beat as you feel a new unspoken surge of energy igniting between you two. It's takes form as an invisible current, growing with each ticking second.

╰➤ Her attention doesn't waver, remaining clear and steady and safe. You find it hard to breathe with the careful way that she's studying you. Air pacts into your lungs at an alarming rate and your heart beats a mile a minute while your throat locks.

╰➤ Your lips part. Then, "What else are you wanting to offer?"

╰➤ You watch as she cards her fingers through her hair. There's a bounce to her silky locks that leads you to believe it's been very recently washed. If you step forward more, all you have to do is reach up to touch it. She's so close.

╰➤ Incredibly close.

╰➤ You don't know how it's happened but somewhere deep inside of you, where the abandoned and empty house of your life resided, a bright light has been ignited. Somehow, that house is no longer empty. It's no longer cold. Sevika has managed to cast an exceptional amount of life into you.

╰➤ Everything becomes watery at the revelation; her black marble countertops, her crème colored button-up, the swirling grey of her irises. It's all blurry. You struggle to blink away your welling tears.

╰➤ How typical of you to get emotional during a time like this...

╰➤ Sevika doesn't reply. She just peers at you with an expression that makes her look as if she's short circuiting. The air is warm, with the oven being heated to a scorching 375 degrees just a few feet away. It's warm and Sevika doesn't falter in managing to unravel you from her regard. It's warm, and your hands are reaching out. It's warm because it's her. She's the warmth.

╰➤ Your hands stop mid-reach, hovering in the air as she fleetingly glances at them. Your pulse thumps against the side of your neck; eyelids fluttering. "What else?" You press. A gentle nudge. A plead.

╰➤ You need to hear her say it; for the sake of confirming that everything is requited.

╰➤ She closes the rest of the distance by grabbing your hands with hers. They're larger and wrap around yours without any extra effort. The gesture is small. But it somehow still causes your legs to nearly give out. She tugs you, urging you closer. You stumble as you give into her magnetic pull. But you're too caught up in all that she is to truly feel embarrassed by it.

╰➤ "I want to offer you everything good." Sevika states it firmly; earnestly. "I don't feel that with people very often. But you," She squeezes your hands, puffing out a heavy exhale. Her breath brushes over your face, minty and enticing. "...I'd do anything to bring goodness into your life."

╰➤ "You already have." The lump in your throat explodes, almost blowing it out completely. Your voice is hoarse—thick with emotion.

╰➤ Her breathing becomes shaky and her mouth falls open. You watch as shock transforms itself onto her features.

╰➤ "Seeing you everyday in that stuffy break room...getting to know you and being able to talk to you," You continue, head bowing as you try to gather your thoughts in a way that won't overwhelm her. "Those days rest with me right here." You bring both your hands and hers to rest against your chest. "I already hold a deep tenderness for you. And it's something that's only for you. Do you know that?"

╰➤ She keenly follows your lips as you speak, leaning so closely now that her forehead grazes against yours. The movement is painstakingly subtle but it still makes your surroundings blacken. The feeling that takes over is close to a rebirth; like being pushed into the ocean by yourself and somehow resurfacing with Sevika fundamentally built into you.

╰➤ And when she kisses you, you know, down to the marrow of your bones, that this is something holy. Teeth clatter and hunger intensifies. Her hands have found solace by clinging onto the rolls of your hips, digging into you, hooking you to her. Ink becomes imprinted onto your heart, screaming—scrawling—Sevikasevikasevikasevika endlessly.

╰➤ She trembles slightly when you press against her; your hands resting against the firmness of her biceps. You reach for her further, never fully satiated, while your toes pull you upwards. Your neck cranes and your chest constricts from the way you desperately lean against her. You're chasing her—her mouth, her smell, her lips, her taste—and she welcomes you with just as much desperation.

╰➤ She's whispering, "...okay, okay," her voice a gentle echo. Her fingers curl into you, positively leaving marks. "I definitely know now."

╰➤ Sevika transforms from warmth to burning heat at that moment. You cherish the feeling.

╰➤ Somewhere, not too far away, a celestial body explodes.

╰➤ When she's lifting your shirt off of you, the burgundy color of her duvet being lit by a bright moon shining through her window, that same feeling of your world revitalizing returns.

╰➤ A mix of soft sighs and oh sweetheart and countless cresting follows. Your legs quiver and symphonies sound in your ears while she devours you as if you're her last meal.

╰➤ "Don't stop," you continuously plead, drunk off of the beautiful disaster that such a person could cause.

╰➤ She whispers into your skin, mouthing—kissing—and nipping, with a broken voice, "I won't. I promise."

╰➤ I promise.

╰➤ The headboard cracks. There's laughter, and snack breaks and savory kisses.

╰➤ And when you're lapping into her with unadulterated vehemence, giving her everything that she wants to take, you promise too.

╰➤ You'll promise everyday if she asks you to.

╰➤ You'll promise until your life expires—until the world ends. Until she decides that she doesn't want you anymore.

╰➤ Long gone are the moments of uncertainty; of hesitancy.

╰➤ After the both of you have recovered from chasing such a high, her arm remains draped over your waist, tugging you into her. She mumbles, "Stay," with a vulnerability that has you shaking your head before a beat of silence can pass.

╰➤ "Always."

╰➤ Another explosion emerges; this time larger. A supernova.

╰➤ Your lips press against her throat. She shivers. Her grip tightens. The moon shines brighter.

╰➤ Always.

#au writing #fanfic #arcane au #lesbian #arcane netflix #fluff #sevika #sevika x reader #piscespetals writing #sevika pls marry me #sevika imagine #sevika x y/n #arcane sevika #arcane women #coworkers to friends to lovers #foolish senseless desperate gay pinning #this took me two weeks to edit good grief

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slutmegeto · 1 month

Text

seraphic.

you should really learn; you're his.

tw. teacher/student relationship, age gap, non-con, dub-con, bondage, unbalanced power dynamics, thigh high kink, sex toys, ring gag, edging, punishment, gagging mdni!

pairing: getou suguru x f!reader

his grip is tight. bruising. fingers pinching into the soft skin of your arm, dragging you faster than your legs can move, making you trip over your own two feet.

his name leaves your lips in a desperate, pathetic whine and has been since he pulled you out of class but he's relentless.

he continues to drag you through the halls, taking multiple turns, and up a flight or two of stairs until you reach a familiar door.

with one last glance at you, geto yanks open the door and all but shoves you inside. you stumble, nearly losing your footing as you slam against the desk lined to the right of the door. just as you catch yourself, you hear the door slam shut, echoing off the side boards and causing you to jump as you slowly chance a glance over your shoulder.

geto is practically steaming. he's silent, scarily so, just like he's been since he pulled you out of class. he doesn't look at you, even as your eyes carefully watch him, eyes following him as he makes his way to the windows in the office, lowering the blinds and making sure it blocks any sight inside the room out.

leaving you completely alone with him.

nobara, to her credit, had seemed less than okay with how geto had pulled you out of class, megumi and yuji looked on just confused. but all it had taken was gojo telling them it was fine and there was nothing to worry about and really, why should nobara doubt her teacher?

swallowing thickly, geto finishes with the final window and finally, finally he turns to face you.

"g-geto-sensei—"

whatever you'd been about to say promptly falls silent, mouth snapping shut as geto narrows his eyes in that way that you know means nothing good. you'd been scared before, but this is the angriest you've ever seen your teacher and you're not really sure what you even did.

he crosses the distance over to you, still eerily silent, until he's right in front of you, chest pressed against your own and leaving not an inch of space between the both of you. you meet his eyes and his flicker across your figure briefly before, with a blink, his hand is raising, gripping a handful of your hair and tugging so that your head tilts backwards.

its agressive, harsh and pulls a cry of surprise from your lips as your neck strains, hands raising to press against his chest.

"sensei—!"

"shut it." he finally speaks and it has your heart dropping, falling to the pit of your stomach as you let out a whimper. "i don't want to hear your excuses."

excuses for what? but you know better than to ask.

geto's free hand falls on the hem of your blouse; your uniform jacket having been shed after training earlier that day. instead, all you have on is your white button up blouse and flared skirt with your thigh highs on underneath. he's pulling it out of the top of your skirt, until it's hanging loosely around you, and you feel, slowly, his hand slip underneath until the cold of his skin touches your bare tummy, eliciting a gasp from your lips.

"i saw the most interesting thing this morning."

swallowing thickly, head still kept back, you glance at geto through your lashes.

"i was heading to my office, when i caught sight of you and itadori having breakfast together."

you freeze. geto's eyes darken.

"now, normally, something like that wouldn't upset me. not this much," he continues, voice low. "but imagine my surprise when i saw the little brat brush a strand of your hair and you blush, only to giggle at what i can only assume was some sweet little nothing from his lips."

he tugs, one sharp tug that has your back bending awkwardly over his desk as he splays his palm flat against your stomach.

"do you have anything to say about that?"

your mind races to find something—any excuse you could use.

"geto...geto-sensei, it's not... it's not what you think!" your voice pitches at the end just as geto presses you tighter against the edge of his desk. "yuji—itadori just, well, he was just being friendly!"

"it looked more than just friendly, slut."

swallow thickly, you let out a whimper. "it didn't mean anything! i'm sorry!" you cry, desperate. "i won't do it anymore! i'll make sure to decline him next time and-and—!"

geto suddenly lets go of you, hands leaving you completely as he steps back and you let out a breath of relief, shoulders sagging with confused relief as you try to find your footing. straightening yourself out, you glance over at him, baffled.

"it's okay," he says, a complete switch from his tone before. he lets out a gentle smile, eyes crinkling at the corners as he nods. "i forgive you."

but you knew better—that smile was anything but sweet.

frazzled, you nod, hesitant, body shaking violently as he turns, watching him lock the door to his office, and you know that can't mean anything good.

"now, y/n," he speaks up, back still turned to you but turning to glance at you over his shoulder. "i want you to get undressed, leaving on only your thigh highs, okay?"

you feel sick.

"geto-sensei, please—"

"y/n," he's turned to face you now, voice sharp. "now."

forcing back the bile that rises in the back of your throat, you lower your gaze, hands shakily raising to your blouse. you know you have no choice, having learned long ago what happened when you didn't listen to geto, memories of his frightening curses flashing in your mind that makes you move faster, fingers hastily unbottoning your shirt.

you slip your shirt off your shoulders, wiggling out of your skirt, all whilst geto watches closely. his eyes never stray from you, stood by the door, and he doesn't move, not an inch, even as you unclasp your bra and free your breasts from their restraints. then, finally, your fingers slip into the hem of your panties and you yank them down, before stepping out of them.

per his request, you're left completely bare except for your black thigh highs.

your arms twitch to cover yourself, until; "you know the rules, pretty. arms down."

forcing your arms to your side, you avoid geto's heavy gaze, feeling embarrassed and exposed in a way you've never liked.

geto stands there for a moment longer before he makes his way over to you before stopping just in front of you.

“you look so pretty like this.” geto whispers, and you turn your head away as his eyes trail across your form, drinking in the sight of you. he’s the one who’d picked out your school uniform as soon as you enrolled. you still remember the day and how your life turned to hell from that point on.

he’s never given you a choice in anything. starting from your uniform and on.

then, just as you prepare yourself for him to touch you, he simply walks past you, not bothering you another glance as your eyes follow him. you feel your eyes water when you see him bend down to reach into the bottom drawer of his desk.

no. no. you knew what that meant.

"p-please, sensei!" you're turning desperate, all sense leaving you as dread fills your entire being, shuffling back on your feet and trying to inch towards the door. "i said i was sorry! i won't do it again! i promise! just, please, don't—"

"come back here."

his voice cuts in and you let out a cry, frozen in the spot.

"now."

you meet his eyes and now it'll only be worse if you don't listen now, so, forcing your legs to move, you make your way back over to him. you try to ignore the many things he's laid out on the desk, or the way you're crying, stopping just as you reach the edge of the desk.

"lay back on the desk, tummy up."

you do so numbly. grabbing the edge of the desk, you lift your knee, and ignore how cold the desk is against your skin or how bare you are, shifting until your back is flat against the desk and you're staring up directly at geto.

he's smiling, pleased, eyes drifting across your bare form.

"good girl," he praises, "that wasn't so hard was it?"

you just let out a shaky breath.

he moves then, disappearing from your view, but a second later you feel his hand wrap around your left wrist, the familiar coarse feeling of rope wrapping around your wrist before it pulls, tugging your arm down the side of the desk in an uncomfortable angle. he fastens the other end of the rope to the leg of the desk, and then does the same with your other arm and both of your legs.

leaving you bound to the desk.

once he's done with your left leg, he stands, letting his hand drift across your thigh, up and across your stomach, around the side of your breast before he's hovering over you once more.

"open your mouth."

slowly, you listen, parting your lips, eyes stuck on geto's as he reaches forward, pressing his pointer and middle finger flat against your tongue. he presses down and you gag slightly at the motion, before he's pushing his fingers back, to the back of your throat, causing you to shift in your binds.

"close," he orders, and you listen, letting your lips wrap around his two fingers. "suck."

ignoring the humiliation of having to suck off your teacher's fingers, you listen, letting your tongue wrap around his fingers like he'd taught you, sucking and gagging yourself on his two fingers.

"that's it," he croons. "good girl. such a good little girl when you listen."

he leans forward and you watch him through blurred vision.

a second later he pulls his fingers from your lips, wiping your own spit across your face, laughing when you try and move your face away.

"keep your mouth open, pretty girl."

pulling his hands away, you listen, eyes watching his figure as he moves, making his way around the desk before suddenly, there's something dark being wrapped around your eyes.

"sensei—!"

you're cut off by a sharp slap across your left breast, one that has you jumping as you hiss out in pain. it stings, and although you can't see, you're positive there's a bright red hand mark left in place of his hand, skin prickling at the sensation.

"what did i say," geto hisses, moving to pinch your nipple and tugs. "keep that mouth open and don't speak."

fearing another hit, you listen, keeping your mouth as wide open as possible, fear striking you deep when he wraps the blindfold completely around your eyes, completely blocking any vision from your sight. he nots it tightly against the back of your head, leaving it impossible to try and wiggle off.

your lack of sight has you even more scared then before, shaking in your bondage as geto shifts. you can hear him fiddling around with something but he doesn't say anything and you can't see him.

a minute later something hard and metal is being forced in between your teeth.

a ring gag.

geto is quick to fasten it around your face and you let out a gargled cry as he does, pulling against your binds to no avail. you're stuck in place, unable to do anything as he forces your mouth open and merely laughs at your struggles.

"look at my pretty girl," he coos, letting his hand fall once again against your stomach, rubbing your tummy with soft circles. his fingers feel like knifes against your skin, but you can't buck away from his touch; trapped in place. "all gagged up with a blindfold. you can't see anything, can you? completely defenceless."

you let out a strangled cry and then suddenly, geto's fingers are back in your mouth, gagging you as spit dribbles across your cheeks, unable to pull away or close your mouth. he shoves them far back, to the edge of your throat, the sounds of your spit gargling all you can hear as you shake your head, trying to get away.

"you'll remember this next time you try and flirt with someone else."

his words are dark and you're full on subbing, gagging and choking on his fingers before he pulls away.

as you try to catch your breath, chest rising and falling rapidly, geto falls silent once again. you can hear him shuffling, your anxiety building, but it's impossible to see what he's doing even as you desperately try. minutes pass before you finally feel him again and this time he's at the other end of the desk, one hand gripping your thigh, slotted in between your legs, while the other reaches for your pussy.

you jump at the touch, the sensation stronger with your sight impaired, unable to focus on anything but his touch.

you can feel his gaze on you, even if you can't see, and you let out a whimper as his fingers softly stroke your clit in languid movements, swirling around. the fingers he'd gagged you on seconds ago brush faintly across your clit, as if hovering, your muscles tense as you're forced to feel pleasure from a man you can't stand.

then, he's pulling back and you feel yourself relax, just faintly, before something cold presses against your clit. it's cold and plastic and you try to pull away, but can't, because in the next second you hear the familiar sound of tape being ripped as it's taped directly to your clit.

you know exactly what it is.

a remote controlled vibrator that geto loved.

it wasn't the first time geto's used on you, but you certainly wished the last time had been the last.

"you know what this is, right?" geto strokes your thighs, digging his nails through the fabric of your thigh highs. he pulls at the fabric, letting it snap back in place against your plush thighs. "it's your favourite."

you try to deny, but any words just come out garbled.

he pulls back, leaving your skin hot and your body tense, waiting.

then, the vibrator comes to life and your whole body jumps in the small space it's allowed, a cry pulling from your lips as the sensation shoots straight to your core. you fight against your bonds, turning your skin raw as your wrists rub against the rope, but nothing allows you to break free and all you can focus on is the vibration directly against your clit.

he turns it off a second later and you involuntarily let out a whine, heart racing.

"gojo's given you the rest of the day off," geto moves to explain, and he sounds further away. "call it, hmm, detention. you're going to stay here until i deem otherwise."

you shake your head, trying to call out in denial.

"don't worry. you won't be impacting my work."

you growl, pulling violently against the rope. as if that was what you were concerned with.

"i have a meeting with the principle. but you stay here and take your punishment like a good girl, okay?"

you hear the sound of the door unlocking and dread fills you when you realize he really is going to leave you.

your cries grow louder.

"do try and be quiet, though," he calls out, as if an after thought, "we don't want anyone finding you like this, do we? that would certainly be embarrassing... imagine what your precious friend itadori-kun would think?"

falling silent, your chest heaves, tears soaking your blindfold.

"i'll be back later, okay? be a good girl and wait for me."

the door slams shut behind him and you're left there, unable to move, say anything or see, violently shaking. your struggles against your binds halt five minutes in, knowing it's useless; it does nothing but leave your skin burning.

you're trapped.

it's ten minutes later that the vibrations start again against your clit, your hips bucking upwards as you mewl out in response, muscles tensing. this time, geto, wherever he is, leaves it on longer than a minute, the vibrations strong and straight to your core as your pleasure builds and builds, unable to focus on anything but how good it feels.

then, just as you feel your climax building, the vibrator turns off.

you let out a cry, forgetting yourself, as your pleasure is cruelling ripped from you.

you slump against the desk, skin hot and pussy tingling, your breath catching as you slow from your ruined high. your mouth hurts around the metal of the gag, trying to shift in any sort of position that's more comfortable, but it's useless.

sobbing, you accept your fate.

a few minutes later, the vibrator starts up again. and just as before, it stops just as your orgasm starts to build.

over and over and over again.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #getou suguru x reader #getou x reader #getou smut #yandere geto #tw.dark content #tw.noncon #tw.yandere #yandere jjk

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forgeofthenine · 3 months

Note

S/o stole their favorite tiefling bachelors shirt! How do said bachelors get it back?

I've been looking forward to writing this request for ages and as soon as I started it I got writers block, like a total chump. I did add on Rugan though so please accept that as my apology everyone! I hope you're all having a lovely valentines and staying safe <3

The bachelors (+Rugan) when you steal their shirt

Dammon

Dammon simply doesn't even try

What's the point when he thinks they look better on you than on him?

This man adores seeing you in his shirts and there's no way he's going to try and stop you wearing them

One of the best feelings for Dammon is coming in after a long day in the forge and seeing you asleep in bed wearing his shirt

He loves how the fabric hangs off you, how you smell more like him whenever you wear his clothes

It's a sight that never fails to make him pause and just admire you

Sometimes if he sees you wearing his shirt around the house he'll jokingly drape his apron over you, refering to you as the new master blacksmith

You'll often find he also likes to leave his shirts in oddly convenient places for you to 'steal'

Dammon can't get enough of you, especially when you're wearing his clothing

Zevlor

This man takes meticulous care of his belongings

He knows exactly what he owns, where it is, and what condition it's in

So when Zevlor can't seem to find his only clean shirt at the end of the week, he's more than a bit confused

You'll find him peering into your room in his shirtless glory and asking if you've seen his shirt

His words pause when he actually gets a good look at you though, seeing a greatly oversized linen shirt draped over you

Zevlor can't pull his gaze away from you and only comes back to reality when you ask what he needed

After clearing his throat, Zevlor tells you it was nothing and ducks away to find another shirt that might be passable

Discovering you stealing his shirt is almost too much for his heart to take, and his mind definitely drifts back to it throughout the day

You'll end up finding that Zevlor will offer to lend you his shirt every so often after this

Rolan

Rolan, despite how reserved and mature he comes off, is a menace in the mornings

Bleary eyed and already annoyed, he spends this particular morning desperately searching for that one shirt that best matches his work robes

That is, until you walk into the room holding a steaming hot cup of coffee and wearing a familiar starched shirt

You can see the way gears turn in his head as he realises that's where his precious clothing has gone

It's easy to make the assumption that Rolan has actually suddenly fallen ill with the way his face flushes

Not only does he suddenly feel very parched, but he also doesn't quite have the words to say for once

So instead he brusquely accuses you of stealing his favourite shirt

It's hard not to laugh at the poor man, scowling and blushing with crossed arms as he finally get the words out

Just pass him the coffee with a kiss and all will be forgiven

Rugan

This daring adventurer has come to expect things getting misplaced or stolen

What he didn't expect was for you to be the perpetrator

But there you are, standing before him in only his shirt and a tiny pair of shorts

He's all too happy to stop and admire the view, affectionately calling you 'a sight for sore eyes' as he saunters closer

Rugans hands pull you into him by the waist, leaning down slightly so he can kiss you

It's as he kisses you, passionately, that his hands slowly start to pop open the shirts buttons

It's only when you think Rugan might finally toss you onto the bed that he pulls the shirt on himself and sends you a cheeky wink

As gorgeous as you look in his clothes, Rugans an expert at getting stolen items back

#bri answers #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 dammon #bg3 dammon #dammon x reader #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #bg3 zevlor #zevlor x reader #baldurs gate 3 rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan x reader #baldurs gate 3 rugan #bg3 rugan #rugan x reader

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hai7ani · 9 months

Text

WHAT'S A HEART WORTH? haitani rindou

nsfw (smut) mdni, nothing happens

home collection | playlist

part i / my baby here on earth, showed me what my heart was worth.

Rindou does not understand why people would not want to go home after work.

Like the accountant who stays at the office long after clock out hour. He's finishing up someone else's paperwork willingly while actively ignoring the constant buzz of his phone that lights up a photo of a woman showing up peace signs paired with a beautiful smile which only says 'girl[space]friend' but not her name. He shuts off his phone and continues his paperwork instead of heading home (and also earning free OT cash that he'll probably just spend on some Asahi during payday) . . .

Or the newlywed who slips off the silver band on his ring finger and greets the receptionist with a bright smile -- Ishikawa-san, or Riko-chan, as he likes to call her -- the moment he steps into the front doors of the office. He enjoys leaning on the counter and telling her about the plans he and his friends have made for her that night on a random morning while stuffing the promise with his wife deep into the pocket of his perfectly ironed suit.

"Work's been rough lately, ya wanna grab a drink? Release some steam? Oh, it's just a few of us guys who are my friends, and you. Bring some of your friends as well, yeah? Please come, treat's on us. We're going to Shangri-La after work, 'kay?"

It's especially the father with a polaroid of his 6 year old son and 11 year old daughter that both are not smiling in tucked away in his wallet who rushes off to an izakaya or some club somewhere in the middle of Kabukichō straight after work with a bunch of his lame and nasty ol' colleagues who are somehow also married men. Just drinking and smoking the night away with dirty minds that think of nothing but sticking their dicks into the pussies of younger, sweeter women working by the bar.

While Haitani Rindou is on his way to clock in to work, he passes by the reception table. Ishikawa-san sees him and gives a small bow with a professional smile, before swiftly returning to the conversation with the newlywed. She bends over the desk and starts fiddling with the bright orange tie hanging off the newlywed's collar. There's a name-tag pinned to his tie that reads Ito Haruki.

Ito-kun, or as Ishikawa-san likes to call him -- Haruki-senpai -- is leaning his head on his left arm, cheek squashed a little as he's shamelessly ogling at the loose button that's about to burst open on Ishikawa-san's blouse.

There's a few people in line ahead of Rindou who are clocking in as well. He supposes it is no harm to listen in on their conversation. They weren't even trying to be discreet about it, anyway.

"It's a nice tie, senpai. Where'd you get it from?"

Rindou catches the sudden change in Ito Haruki's demeanour. "Oh. Just . . . Went out shopping last weekend and got it for myself. Looks real nice, ain't it?"

Liar.

Rindou and you were out shopping two weeks ago when he spots the same man holding the hand of his new bride as they went searching for neckties together in the Aeon department store. "I think this'll look great on you, Haruki, no?" His wife brings the displayed tie up to his neck and smile.

"Looks bomb, honey."

When admiring himself in the mirror, he sees the B&M department's Haitani Rindou looking at him from behind. The two men catches eye in the reflection. Ito-kun was sweating buckets, afraid of getting his cover blown off, but you suddenly tugged on Rindou's sleeve, breaking his attention and asking for his opinion on the dress that you were looking to buy for work.

He turns around and leaves with you, not looking at Ito-kun nor his wife as he pretends like he doesn't know the married couple in the same store shopping for neckties, nor the scandalous, nasty things the husband has been doing at work.

And right now, while he's waiting in line to clock in for work, he's still pretending like he knows nothing. There's no point in saying he knows Ito's lying, anyway. It doesn't benefit him one bit.

But to Ito Haruki, Rindou running his mouth to people and letting everyone find out he's been married this whole time to a woman he does not love . . .

And letting his wife find out he has been openly bringing women and girls to hotel rooms and screwing them with his mates behind her back.

It's a risk he cannot take.

Ito-kun who is now standing tall and straight calls out to Rindou, seemingly trying to butter his colleague up to keep his mouth shut. If he starts getting close with me, there's no way he'll snitch. He'll understand.

"Yo, Haitani. Ya free tonight? We're going up to Shangri-La with a few of my friends in Chiyoda. We're having a few ladies over as well, if yer' interested." Ito-kun wiggles his eyebrows and Ishikawa-san stifles a laugh with the back of her hand.

Rindou does not spare both of them a glance.

"I'm married."

He says it like it's meant to be. He's a married man who's actually a decent human being with bills to pay, love to give and a wife to go home to. You just wouldn't understand. And he moves forward with his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Tch, fuckin' snob. He's married? So am-" Haruki stops himself from running his mouth any further with a cough. "Who does he think he is? Just 'cause he's on the line for some promotion? I can do better than him, can't I, Riko-chan? I'm in HR, after all."

"Of course you can, Haruki-senpai. You're the best, after all . . . At all things."

With their lewd whispering and hushed laughters echoing in the space behind him, he slots his employee card into the machine and thinks of all the married men with a wife and children waiting for them to come home and watch Why Did You Come to Japan? on the TV together.

Haitani Rindou could never understand them.

And perhaps it's just him . . .

Guess it really is just him.

Him who thinks there's nothing more relieving than going straight home to his wife, his family, instead of wasting another second at work talking to idiots he don't share the same interests and can never communicate with.

They disgust him.

Working a 9-5 itself is already tiring, so why choose to cause himself more suffering by willingly spending time with literal failed fucking nutjobs who don't respect their family, or anyone, in that matter. He thinks its rather pointless to be with them when he can be at home with you.

At home.

With you.

At home is kicking off his expensive Jimmy Choo's that you bought for him with your last paycheck by the entrance and throwing his goddamned briefcase on the counter, followed by his car keys (a Mazda) and the resident's keycard.

At home is saying ただいま and seeing your figure still clad in your work clothes and an apron, standing in the kitchen stirring up a boiling pot of his favourite miso soup with curry cooking on the stove beside you. It's nothing misogynistic or anything -- Rindou can cook fairly well himself. There's just an unspoken rule between the two of you where whoever comes home first makes dinner. Both of you are working adults in damned Tokyo with a workplace culture of utter hell and bullshit, so it's not everyday you get to go out for dinner at some fancy restaurant downtown. Plus, there's something about cooking and eating dinner together with him that makes you so happy.

Rindou eyes the mat you're standing on and sighs a breath of relief.

"Baby," you call from the kitchen and he makes his way over to you sluggishly. "Taste." you feed him a spoon of the flavourful soup and he smacks his lips. Once, twice.

". . . Needs a little more salt." He reaches for the sodium and you take one sip yourself, "yeah, 's kinda dull."

You see him shake the salt container a bit before pushing you back behind him and grabbing the spoon in your hand to stir the soup. He makes sure you're still standing on the mat.

"Can you help me add more wakame? Been cravin' it a lot lately." He simply hums and tears open another packaging of the wakame on the countertop and throws it in.

And you simply let him take control, opting to step back and take this moment to watch -- or more like ogle, -- at your husband with the sleeves of his stripped Uniqlo dress-shirt rolled up to his elbows, the back of it messily tucked in his pants, and the gelled hairstyle you combed for him this morning nowhere in sight. You also smell the remains of tobacco on him -- he's been smoking again.

You furrow your brows at your latest observation, though you can't deny it's pretty endearing to see him like this.

Completely, utterly at home. And absolutely yours.

You're also sure now -- that watching him like this definitely makes you happy. Domestic and comfortable.

"Yeah, this tastes better." He turns to cup a palm under your chin and feeds you a spoon of miso. A drop falls onto his palm and he simply wipes it off on a washcloth. You hum, it does taste better. "Thanks, Chef Rin." He finishes off the soup you didn't manage to and throws the spoon in the sink to wash later.

He pinches your nose, pulls you by your neck to get you closer, and places a kiss on the crown of your head before pulling open the fridge. It's also one of his ways of saying he's home other than the usual greeting of ただいま.

You giddily lean against the kitchen island, untying the apron and laying it beside you. A pout suddenly forms at your lips and you blow raspberries while slowly unbuttoning the top of your dress, finally able to catch a break and get rid of the uncomfortable clothing.

Rindou looks back at you from your reaction and you tell without him asking.

"My clothes' gettin' tight. Hate it so much."

"We'll go shopping this weekend."

You nod, and he turns back to the fridge, though from the corner of your eye you see that he's been bowing down and staring at the shelves a little too long.

"Wha-"

"Where'd my KitKat go?"

Your fingers pause in their actions.

It's kinda funny how a simple question of your husband suspecting the whereabouts of his chocolate snack bar can make your mind travel to two nights back. It was on Monday at 2:41am when you'd snuck out of bed (out of his arms), and stole his last remaining KitKat in the fridge.

Rindou looks at you and you look back at him.

"Dunno."

Thief.

" . . . I wonder where's the Buenos I bought-"

Not the Buenos.

And suddenly you find yourself clinging for dear life onto your husband, with the best puppy eyes you can muster glossily looking up at him as if you're secretly trying to convey a message, to which he only scoffs at and starts peeling your arms off him.

"Baby, baby. Anythin' but the Buenos. They're mine."

"So was my KitKat."

"You can't blame me! It just looked so delicious I had to absolutely devour it-"

"-the damn Buenos are mine now."

"No."

You spend the next 20 minutes bickering with him about who holds final custody over the bag of mini Buenos sitting in the fridge. He reasons that because you ate his kitkat, and he was also the one who bought the Buenos for you, that he gets to keep it now. You argue that the fucking KitKat was hypnotising you into eating it, resulting in him losing his last KitKat bar because of the KitKat itself, and not because of you, that you get to keep your Buenos that he bought for you all to yourself and he gets nothing in compensation.

You both end up fucking in the bathtub afterwards.

"You're too noisy."

Gasp. Moan. Whimper.

"So are you."

Scratch. Squeeze. Bite.

Rindou is gentle when he holds you as you slowly regain your senses and shift to a more comfortable position. His dick is soft against your thigh and you help him wash off the sticky fluid.

You feel him growing hard again in your hand as he presses a kiss to your cheek and you curl the other arm around his neck.

He helps you align yourself with him and there's a soft blush on your cheeks when he bottoms out, "doc' said it's good, right?" "Yeah."

Yup, Doctor Fujita’s words is absolutely the reason why you’re spending the next hour making love with your husband in the bathtub.

(You just love him so much.)

It's later that night, after you've both finished your little session in the shower and dinner when Rindou brings up a topic neither of you have ever discussed about in the whole three years of your marriage.

He slaps your thigh, telling you to scoot over on the couch and immediately drops down next to you (or more like on top of you) when all you've made was just about a centimetre of space for him. A literal half of his body is on top of your legs, crushing down your thighs and you bite his bulky bicep in retaliation with a quiet asshole coming out of your mouth, trying your hardest to crawl your way out under his heavy, muscular body (that was an overstatement -- he just got back up and waited for you to move over so he could sit down properly). He hisses while rubbing the area you bit and simply stares at you in amusement.

Though annoying, he's careful with your body. He's made sure not to be rough with you and his orbs scans over your form to make sure you're not actually in pain.

You lift your legs up to rest in his lap and he moves his hands to massage your feet. You've been complaining about having feet pain lately, and it's probably one of the many side effects. He makes it a mental note to do research on it and how to help you feel better.

When he sees that you're sitting comfortably and back to focusing on the show playing on the TV screen again, he decides to fire the shot.

"I'm gonna quit my job." Rindou bluntly states.

All that shit in his mundane ass voice too: the one he uses when he's still an immature, younger and grouchier version of himself, fighting with opponents that don't impress him.

You hurriedly press pause on the remote to the show you're currently watching,

How to Get Away with Murder.

and you stare at him blankly.

You might start taking actual notes from Annalise Keating-san, you think.

"What?" You try retracting your legs away from him but his grip is tight as he continues massaging your ankle. You're not in the mood anymore, but it feels comfortable, so you leave them there.

"I'ma quit my job." Rindou closes his eyes and rests his head back on the soft beneath.

"Why?"

"One, 'm sick of it. Two, 's not what I like. Three, my boss' an asshole . . . So I'm quitting."

"And what will you do afterwards?"

"Gonna stay home."

"And?"

"Tsk. What? I've made 'nuff to support us for at least, what, like 20 years. Les' jus' stay home, smoke weed, I'll maybe start to DJ again. Or if you don't wanna, fine. We'll jus' book a one way to Switzerland or like, I don't know, fucking Canada or something and never come back. Heard from a few of the guys in my department 's cheap living there. And there's Singapore too, which is family friendly, I might look into it. What do you think?"

A beat.

And another.

The both of you break into a fit of laughter and you don't stop after . . . three minutes, to be exact.

It's unrealistic for an average salaryman in this economy to be earning an income enough to support his family for 20 years after without a job. Even 10 years is over-exaggerating. It's even more unrealistic that it's happening in Tokyo. In Rindou's case, an average Japanese salaryman who works in a position in his company which handles business and marketing. What made you laugh even harder is the fact Rindou had just brought up three major, rich and expensive countries in the world as cheap places to live in as a family.

The guy you married deserves a beating right now. Maybe another bite, too. This time at the shoulder. Who knows?

You crawl into his lap and squint your eyes, "you sound like you're asking to be single right now. Weed? With me right now? You're definitely asking for it."

"Was jus' jokin', baby. Never doin' that again. Don't divorce me."

"Thought your stupid ass could fool me? Thought you were still 18? You're not funny. You're quitting an office job in this economy, and you're- you're tellin' me, to stay home with you 'n," you pause to laugh, "'n to smoke weed 'n DJ with your ass."

He lands his palms on your hips and rubs up and down affectionately, "’Think I'm funny? At least I think I am," His thumbs subconsciously move to your stomach and traces soft circles on the skin.

"You are. Kinda." You comb through his soft hair with your fingers and push them back. He's smirking now. "Was not lyin' when I said I hate my fuckin' job. Guess I could turn to stand-up comedy if smoking weed and being an at-home DJ doesn't work out."

"I'll kill you."

Rindou brings out another fit of giggles in you and when it slowly dies down, you gaze into his purple orbs with a soft smile.

You cup both hands on his cheeks, "don't smoke so much, baby." You peck his lips twice before moving to smooch his cheeks. "'S bad for me."

"Yeah, sorry. Couldn't help it." Rindou blinks tiredly at your form and wraps you in his arms, his head moving down lower to rest on your chest, placing soft kisses at the tender, soft mounds. He suddenly remembers you've also been complaining about having some breast changes too. He's gotta bring that up to Fujita-san in the next visit, along with your feet issue.

“When’s your next appointment with Fujita again?”

“This Friday at 3. I’m taking the half day off to go, are you coming?”

Rindou is silent as he goes over his schedule for Friday in his head and- Fuck. He’s got an important meeting at 2 that doesn’t end till 4.

“I don’t think I can make it.” You hum softly, “it’s okay. I’ll call you.” Your fingers move to tangle themselves in his purple locks.

“I’ll try to come after I finish my meeting, so remember to tell her about your feet. That could be serious. Your breasts too.” “Okay.”

Rindou stares at your growing stomach, and relishes in how you've been getting more and more pretty each day with the love of you two combined and forming within you. (You've always been pretty. Just extra pretty when you're pregnant with his baby.)

You're aware of how he's been getting stressed out lately. Workload's been piling up, and with the current ongoing promotion offer that he's been nominated for, you know Rindou's just had to work extra harder, put in a little more effort. After all, a promotion in his company is no joke, whether it's a shit company or not. A huge incentive in his salary that can cover a lot more things like saving up for your baby's future education, some personal savings, emergency funds, and being able to invest in safer furnitures in the house to protect you -- his pregnant wife, and soon, the baby. He'll also get more authority in his company, which can lead to having more connections that will ultimately help him create more opportunities in life.

Your husband is a hard-worker. Not so much in his teenage years, perhaps, but he definitely is one now in the present, and you know he can never pass up an opportunity for a raise. After all, things are getting expensive, and raising a child with you in this city isn't anywhere near cheap.

He's past that life, he once swore to you. All the fighting and the drinking and the clubbing; behind alleyways and high up in the skyscrapers where he and Ran would be busy blowing his fathers' money off back in his city, the 2000s Roppongi with many people that he never contacts anymore. Not even Shion, but you know Rindou misses him a lot. They were best friends after all. You've watched them both grow up together from boys to men since you were kids.

"Rindou?" He hums. You press your thumb into a sore spot on his shoulder that he never told you about and you feel him relaxing under your touch.

"Les' go somewhere together, when you're done with your promotion. I'll jus' get some time off sayin' I'm too pregnant, or somethin'. They'll understand. Unlike you, the people at work actually likes me." You suggest, and he pinches your thigh. "You gettin' smug?" "Kinda."

Rindou laughs into your neck. "Yeah, 'kay. Where you wanna go?"

"'Was thinkin' of Hokkaido. I've never been there before," your pointer finger traces random twirly shapes onto his bare back. "Oh, maybe you could take me to Taiwan. One of the girls at work went with her hubby once 'n she said 's real nice there. Please, baby."

"But international flights are expensive right now. You sure you wanna go overseas?"

Crystals start to form at the corners of your eyes and your nose is getting red. "Really wanna go."

This pregnancy is gonna turn him into a saint. "'Kay, babe. Taiwan it is. We'll go to Taiwan, yeah? Don't cry." He kisses your lips. And he does it again and again until you stop sniffling. He wipes away your tears, too. And he pulls back to look at you. All pouty and gorgeous in his arms.

Haitani Rindou sits in the living room with his pregnant wife on his lap rambling his ear off about the cool things one of the girls at work saw in Taipei and he's left dumbfounded because . . .

The men at work? They're never going to experience this kind of life. The domesticity with you. The soft kisses shared before you fall asleep together in bed. The kisses placed on your belly when the baby's kicking a little too hard and you can't sleep. And soon he's going to feel a new type of warmth blossoming in his chest where he comes home after getting asked to go to fucking Shangri-La again, and sees you feeding your baby milk on the couch, waiting for him. Excited to share a new story about what happened with you and your baby earlier.

"She just said her first word, Rin." "What?" "C'mon, say it for your papa, now." The baby wiggles around in her mother's arms and looks at her father, who is now hovering over her and has a warm hand placed on the back of her head. She blinks, and smiles. "Ba-ba."

And suddenly he feels like the happiest man alive.

"Thank you."

reblogs are appreciated! thank you for reading ≽ܫ≼

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