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wndaswife · 4 months ago

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girl next door | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Wanda attempts to become closer with the young woman who moved in beside her while balancing her work and personal life, though she’s doubtful of the possibility that you might be interested in her at all.

Word count: 23 310

Tags | MDNI: smut, fluff, shy idiots flirting, wanda is a cutie and kind of a pervert, specified age-gap, masturbation, fingering, cunnilingus, dildo usage, praise, wanda doesn’t know what mommy kink is yet but you can tell she’d be into it, milf!wanda maximoff, lesbian reader

Checking her rear mirror before signalling left and merging into the adjacent lane, Wanda drove around the moving truck parked outside of one of the townhouse buildings she lived beside. Beside her detached house was a townhouse owned and put up for rent for temporary long-stay renters, and often, around the beginning of the summer or the start of September, Wanda would often see professionals working in Jersey City moving in.

It was the start of the summer now, and there were presently movers helping to carry small pieces of furniture through the open townhouse doors. It was furnished inside, Wanda assumed, though the furniture they were bringing in seemed to be building up to some sort of office — perhaps there was an extra empty room in there for renters, and whoever was moving in was setting up a workspace.

Wanda nearly missed her driveway while she was scrutinising everything the movers were bringing in, trying to pin down whoever it was that was renting. When Wanda stepped out and shut the car door, she could see a young woman from above the roof of her car stepping out of the townhouse’s front door, talking with the movers and letting them know where to place the furniture.

Just when it seemed that the young woman’s gaze shifted over to Wanda, who was, admittedly, staring a bit too hard, Wanda’s phone buzzed with an incoming phone call and she quickly broke eye contact to pick it up. She locked her car and walked up to her front door, carrying a stack of paperwork of upcoming orders that she needed to sort through.

She thought of you again while making dinner, curious about you for some reason she didn’t quite understand. She wondered if you were just a younger relative helping the actual renter move in, or if someone who looked as young as you had really moved into Westview by herself just beside her.

From the kitchen island counter where she was standing eating her dinner, Wanda looked through the living room window where she could watch you continue to unpack a few small things from the back of your trunk. She regarded you curiously; perhaps it was your age or the fact that you seemed to have moved in alone that seemed to be interesting to her, though Wanda wasn’t sure why any of that would necessarily pique her interest as she felt like it had.

In the morning, Wanda prepared for the twins’ arrival in the afternoon when she’d have to pick them up after work, waking up with enough time to clean.

Vision, Wanda’s ex-husband, worked as an attorney in New Jersey and often stayed in New York, but when it was his turn with the twins, he stayed in New Jersey — much closer to Westview.

Wanda had always counted herself as lucky for having been married to and having children with a good man. Though she and Vision were necessarily divorced, she never had to worry about what would become of their connection, and she knew that their relationship wouldn’t regress into something difficult between the both of them nor with their children.

However it became rather clear as their relationship progressed, especially after they had children, that the directions of their ambitions and perspectives of their lives were diverting from each other; nothing about them aligned except for their children.

Vision was Wanda’s neighbour when she first moved into her apartment once arriving in America alone. He was smart and very kind and showed her around. He was a westernised Brit, which was palatable for Wanda who found security with a man who knew so much about the country she had just moved to, but who also wasn’t overbearing, and was rather well-mannered and docile.

When they first met, Vision was finishing his second last year of law school, and Wanda didn’t have much going on for herself until she made plans to open a business. It all went quite fast after they married; Vision passed his bar and Wanda’s floral shop had begun to find its footing, and they decided to finally have a family.

But Vision’s career and dreams took him further than what Westview could offer, and Wanda wasn’t the same young woman with wide-eyes and unsteady footing like she was when they met — she had dreams too, and children.

By the time the twins turned two, it wasn’t difficult to figure out that things were different. Their dynamic had changed, they weren’t of the same mind as they used to be, and Vision could tell that Wanda had changed too; she hadn’t intended to be distant, but it always felt like her life took place somewhere her husband couldn’t reach. She was changing and growing, and she didn’t need a crutch to lean on anymore.

She wasn’t as unsteady and lost as she used to be.

By the time she was leaving the house, it should’ve been around the time that Vision was dropping the twins off, but instead, she opened the door to see them running up the porch stairs.

Surprised at the way they rushed passed her, both giving her a quick hello before they ran up the stairs, Wanda stuttered, “What–”

“They forgot their class projects,” Vision explained with an awkward smile, stepping onto the porch and watching Tommy and Billy dash into their rooms.

“The Bristol boards?”

He nodded.

“Did they behave?” she asked, holding her purse with both hands in front of her.

“Of course,” her ex-husband answered with a smile. “We went to the cinema on Friday. Tommy cried during the final scene and Billy was quite supportive.”

Wanda and Vision shared a laugh, and chatted about how it was going with the new firm he was with and about Wanda’s shop, until the twins came back down holding their school projects.

“Good luck on your presentations today,” Wanda told them and leaned down, holding each of their faces delicately and kissing each of their foreheads.

“Thank you, mama,” Billy replied cheerily and gave her the best hug he could with his other arm full of Bristol board.

Vision and Wanda spoke a little more about when he would pick them up this weekend for their grandfather’s birthday, which Wanda couldn’t attend because she had promised to help set up a town event celebrating the start of the new season.

Westview was a popular destination during the Spring for it was located in a relatively secluded area of New Jersey, and well-known for its nature reserves, which also meant Westview well-decorated for the season.

That also meant Wanda and her floral shop were always hard at work throughout the start of Spring.

From the corner of her eye, Wanda saw your car pull into the driveway, and for a moment she saw you briefly running your eyes over her and Vision and the twins in the car.

Throughout the day, Wanda thought of you for the same reason as she did last night, and with the same degree of inexplicability. While she signed and read through paperwork for orders and put together arrangements alongside her employees, she thought of how long you might be renting and where you’d come from. She thought of the kind of flowers you might like; she tried her best to recall the furniture and items you’d brought in yesterday to try and pin down your style.

Once she realised how much she’d been thinking of you and realising it was strange that she kept acting as if she hadn’t been thinking of you, Wanda decided to put together a bouquet for you as a welcome gift.

After she picked the twins up from school, she was sure to keep the bouquet in its vase secured in the passenger’s seat, checking on it occasionally as she spoke with the boys about how their days and presentations went.

“Go put your things away,” Wanda told them as she ushered them through the front door, “I’ll come to help you with your homework in just a minute.” She locked the front door and headed back to her car, reaching into the passenger’s seat for the bouquet.

Your car was in the driveway, and she could see some movement through the window beside the dining room.

For the first time since she even thought to put the bouquet together, Wanda wondered if she was coming off too strong, or even too strange. After all, why would the older woman neighbouring you introduce herself with a bouquet of flowers?

Wanda could justify herself to you; she owned a floral shop and was working all day and didn’t have time to give you anything else and she always made a point to be friendly to neighbours.

Before she could even justify herself to herself, she was already knocking on your front door holding the vase securely with two hands. She heard some rustling beyond the door, and a few chaotic tumbles, before the front door opened and Wanda got a good look at you for the first time.

You were young — a college student, she presumed — and pretty.

Wanda felt her words catch in her throat and she internally panicked trying to get some form of an introduction out. She hadn’t known what she had expected from you when she knocked on your door or what unsuspecting part of her curiosity was taken aback by your appearance, but Wanda forced out an introduction as normal-seeming as she could.

“Hi,” she said with a friendly smile, “I’m Wanda Maximoff, your next-door neighbour.”

Panicked and deciding that her initial introduction wasn’t enough, she added, “I thought I should introduce myself.”

She couldn’t seem to stop rambling. “A-And I work at a floral shop in the shopping district, hence the flowers,” she explained then held the vase out to you.

You seemed genuinely happy and appreciative when you replied, “Oh, that’s so nice of you! Thank you so much.” Wanda was grateful when you took the bouquet from her and didn’t look like you thought the gesture was strange.

“I was hoping I might be able to meet some people from the neighbourhood soon and maybe explore Westview a little,” you told her, “but I’ve just been so busy unpacking — so thank you, really.”

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” you introduced yourself. “I saw you this morning and thought to say hello today too, but I think I’ve just been so overwhelmed with the move.”

Wanda thought you were sweet and rather cute. She attributed it to the fact that you stood out from the other people of Westview who were older and a bit less spry. “It’s normal to be a bit overwhelmed once first moving into a new place,” she told you supportively. “I’m sure you’ll adjust in no time; Westview is easy to get comfortable in.”

“Thank you,” you answered graciously. “I’m happy to finally be able to talk to someone here.”

You were trusting and talkative too, Wanda noted.

“I would be happy to show you around whenever you have some free time,” Wanda found herself offering quicker than she could think through what she was saying. She added, trying to save her first impression, “Only if you don’t mind — I assume you’re a student and rather busy.”

“I would really love to have a tour!” you answered enthusiastically. “Thank you so much. I feel adjusted to Westview already.”

Wanda felt herself flush, feeling appreciated and flattered by your words.

“Would it be okay if we exchanged numbers?” you asked. “I can let you know when I’m free next! I should be sometime at the end of the week; I don’t start my work until next week.”

“O-Of course, that’s completely okay,” Wanda said with a wide neighbourly smile, stuttering slightly for a reason she couldn’t exactly explain to herself. It was normal to exchange numbers with acquaintances, but the idea of you asking for her number made her feel excited.

You kept taking her by surprise, though she wasn’t sure why.

For the rest of the night, Wanda tended to the twins — helping them with their homework, making them dinner, and playing Minecraft with them before bed.

They said she was bad at it, but they always asked for her to play with them.

As she got ready in her washroom after putting the boys to bed, Wanda picked up her phone at the sound of a text and found a message from you: Hi Ms Maximoff, it’s Y/N! Thanks again for the flowers, they’re beautiful.

The way in which you addressed her was all too formal, but there was something about how polite and proper it was that she enjoyed, even if it made her feel a little old.

While Wanda found herself smiling at her phone and thinking up a way to reply, you texted again: You mentioned you worked at a floral shop in town. Where is it located?

Eventually, you spoke to her about what you were studying and what you were in Westview for and for how long. She talked about Tommy and Billy and their father and when she opened her business. You and Wanda continued to text you back and forth until she realised she had stayed up about thirty minutes past when she planned to sleep, and she had to tell you goodnight.

Wanda couldn’t remember the last time someone seemed so genuinely interested in her life and interested in sharing things about themselves with her. It made her feel interesting and paid attention to.

In the morning immediately after dropping the twins off and saying goodbye to them, her thoughts went to you and the conversation you shared together last night.

You had just graduated and were now doing research with a professor, and you wanted to explore some research before beginning your Master’s. Since your professor’s research institute was located closer to Westview than northern New Jersey, you decided to move to Westview for the duration of your six-month research period.

Around the beginning of the day Wanda thought of you the most, wondering particularly about when she might see you again and when you might be free, until the afternoon rolled around when her scheduled employees came in and she started picking up the pace with her orders and arrangements.

It wasn’t a large shop, so there were typically four people working there at a time. One dealt with walk-in orders and those who wanted to purchase anything on display in the front, another with shipments and administrative work, and two that helped with preparing and putting together the arrangements.

Wanda oversaw and managed all of it along with Agatha, who she’d opened the shop with, so she worked each day aside from Fridays and Saturdays — unless she needed to be at work — and Sundays when the shop was closed.

Spring was busy for them, but Westview was a rather small town and their shop was also local and a bit smaller. However, it was from Wanda’s shop that businesses and sometimes the town ordered intricate arrangements for events or for statement display pieces.

But by the late afternoon, the shop had a visitor that Wanda hadn’t expected.

“Y/N,” Wanda uttered at the sight of you walking into the shop, looking around at the vases and flowers and succulents on display.

“Hi,” you greeted with a smile once you walked up to the cash register.

Wanda’s smile widened and she felt herself excited and unsteady at the thought that you might have come into the shop purposely just to visit her — but she couldn’t jump to conclusions. “Are you looking for another bouquet?” she teased.

You laughed and Wanda felt her chest flutter.

“No, not yet,” you answered. “I just thought I would return the welcome favour with a gift.”

You laid a cup of tea and a pastry on the counter between the both of you and Wanda found herself speechless by your gesture — you had come just to visit her after she told you where she worked, and you had brought a gift for her too.

“I finally got the chance to walk around today, and I thought to visit the shopping district first and stopped by the café down the street to get something for you. I hope you’re okay with Oolong.”

“Y/N…” Wanda didn’t know what to say, her hands laying themselves by the tea and pastry but not having enough confidence to take them. “You really didn’t have to — and to have come all the way over here!”

You laid your hand atop of Wanda’s and she felt her cheeks flush, her eyes flickering down to your soft hand for a brief moment before looking back up at your soft expression. “But I wanted to,” you told her, then retracted your hand. “I really am grateful and I hoped to be able to make my own impression if not pay you back for the gift.”

Wanda felt so warm and she finally gave in, taking the tea and pastry and moving it closer to her and beside the cash register. “Thank you so much, that’s very kind,” she said.

To have someone think of her so much, to go out of their way during their first day free from unpacking to visit her and make such a thoughtful gesture instilled in Wanda a feeling she hadn’t felt in a very long time — or ever, if she really thought about it.

She felt so cared for, and seen.

“Have you been liking the town so far?” she asked.

You nodded. “Westview is really beautiful, and I’m happy to have chosen to move here,” you answered.

“But you seem busy,” you said, looking around at the employees walking behind her with papers or assortments of flowers in their hands. “Hopefully we’re both free soon so you can show me around your favourite spots.”

“I’m really looking forward to that,” Wanda replied with an eager smile.

Over the next while, Wanda’s free time completely diminished and she struggled to find any time to see you like she’d promised or even talking with you in-person or over the phone.

You sometimes see her coming back late, sometimes looking fatigued or just in a rush to finally get home, so you didn’t want to push by messaging or visiting her, intruding where you shouldn’t as a neighbour and a new friend.

You imagined that the mere thought of you must just be another task she must complete and try to fit into her schedule, so you didn’t want to impose yourself and overwhelm her.

Wanda also thought often about reaching out to you just to ask how you’d been and to let you know that she’d just been rather overwhelmed for the last two weeks, but that she’d been thinking of you and hoping her schedule might free up soon.

She felt disappointed in the timing too, because she knew that your research project had already begun.

But she thought the attempts would be fruitless and unwanted — why message you just to say she still couldn’t fulfil her promise?

There was one time you nearly had a proper conversation with her a few days ago. You were outside planting some flowers you had bought, finally having finished packing inside and deciding that it was time to decorate the exterior of your place too.

Wanda was waiting for a ride from her coworker as her car was in the shop, and she had gone out to wait for her at the same time you were outside.

She asked how your research had been going and you spoke a little about that, but you spoke more about the flowers you were planting and Wanda’s tips on how to take care of them.

The conversation ended abruptly though the both of you had plenty more to say when a brunette older woman around Wanda’s age pulled into her driveway — and in a rather gorgeous vintage car.

A few times, Wanda saw you walking around town with Dottie, a teacher at Tommy and Billy’s school and a member of the town council, and Wanda sometimes saw her at the meetings when she occasionally stopped by.

They interacted a handful of times during events, but first met when she was Tommy and Billy’s teacher. She came off as condescending, at least to Wanda, but got along just fine with Vision.

She didn’t think there was any particular reason that Dottie would dislike her, but she understood that it did sometimes happen that some people just didn’t get along by nature. But she seemed to be getting along with you just fine — quite well actually, for how often she saw you walking together.

Over time when she had begun to hear from you less, Wanda figured that perhaps you had only just wanted to make a friend in Westview, and Dottie was around far more than she was.

Wanda supposed that Dottie was perhaps a bit more enthusiastic also. She was younger than her too, which Wanda guessed was something that you might like more — perhaps you had more in common with her.

It seemed like the only thing that aligned well between you and Wanda was where you lived.

“Ms Maximoff!” you called from your driveway, and Wanda turned to see you waving at her.

It was around six in the morning, and Wanda had to head to the shop early to receive some shipments.

“Hi, Y/N,” she answered and waved back with a pleased smile.

The two of you bridged the gap between the two driveways and met in between.

“Good morning,” Wanda greeted, her smile wider upon seeing you much closer.

Your eagerness to speak with her was refreshing and quite nice.

“Morning,” you replied. “Are you heading to work?”

She nodded and explained, “I have a few shipments coming in today that I need to be there for. And you? Are you heading to your professor’s office?”

“I am, yeah,” you said, a bit wearily as if feeling sheepish.

Sometimes you felt a little shy bringing up things that made the age difference between you and Wanda all the more obvious, like how you were basically going off to school just like her kids would while she was heading off to work at a shop she owned.

Wanda was about to ask why you seemed to lack enthusiasm about heading there, but then you asked: “Can I drive you to work? I can pick you up when you’re off.”

The offer took Wanda by surprise. You were so considerate of her, and without even a second thought to it. “O-Oh, really?” she stuttered. “You don’t have to do that. I’ve been coming home late recently; I don’t want to keep you up or bother you with waiting for me.”

“I know,” you said. “I hope it’s not stalkerish — it’s by complete coincidence, I promise — but sometimes I do see you coming home a bit later. But I have some things to read for my professor today that I’ll take home to do tonight, so I’ll be up.”

“That’s… really sweet. But why go out of your way?”

She couldn’t tell because you were facing away from the sunrise so your face had casted shadow upon it, but it seemed like you were blushing as if having been caught in an act.

Wanda only regarded you with curiosity, squinting a little against the sun so she could see you better.

“I don’t want to come off as pushy, I apologise,” you quickly explained. “It was just something that came to mind.”

“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant,” Wanda replied, waving her hands in front of her and placing a hand on your arm reassuringly when you looked unsure of yourself. She tried to conjure up something to explain why she was so confused and surprised by your kindnesses, but was quickly shut up by her own hand at the feeling of your still arm under her palm and the meeting of your eyes with hers.

She dropped her hand and tucked her hair behind her ear, trying to sort through her thoughts for you.

The more Wanda thought about why it was so difficult to navigate your personality, the more she came to the realisation that aside from friends, and coworkers — which category, for whatever reason, Wanda didn’t think you fell into in that same informality — the only other experience she could call on was that which she had with Vision.

He was very formal and docile, and never took risks or said or did things out of what was expected. It seemed often that he was filling a role or going through the motions of things, which had never been very much of a problem for Wanda, who had thoroughly appreciated how static and steady he was.

As such, Wanda found herself often flustered and surprised by your affectionate gestures that told her you were interested in spending time with her, and spared no subtlety.

“I just feel a little guilty for having no time lately, and I haven’t really done you any favours,” she explained. “I think I just feel surprised when you take the time out of your day to think of me.”

Wanda worried that she might have embarrassed you, and she stayed silent, trying not to fuck anything else up by rambling in the way that she always felt like doing. She forgot that you had just finished your undergrad and that she was, in stark comparison, thirty-two years old, divorced, and living in a small town in New Jersey with two young kids.

Maybe she was struggling to view you in the casual way that anyone else in her shoes ought to, to see you like a neighbour or a passerby or a temporary renter of the house she lived beside.

But if not any of those came naturally to her, how did she see you?

Why did she keep thinking of how you saw Dottie?

“I’m so sorry. I hope I didn’t sound like I was rejecting your kindness,” she added, unable to keep quiet for even a moment.

“Why do you feel like you have to do favours for me?” you asked. “It’s okay if you do nothing for me ever, actually. I think I just like your company.”

Did you like consistency, a stable presence?

Did it bother you that she had introduced herself to you, then didn’t talk much afterwards?

Was trying to see her more a form of seeking consistency in a new town, rather than out of an actual desire of seeing her?

“I would love to get a ride from you,” Wanda told you and smiled. “Thank you. And I don’t think you come off as pushy at all.”

You and Wanda talked a lot on the drive to the shop.

She told you that she’d been extremely stressed with balancing everything and getting everything prepared in time, and always tried to finish most if not all of her work before the weekends so she could spend the most of it with her sons.

Thankfully, she’d been able to catch up with everything as the orders had died down, and she predicted that she may be finished before the upcoming weekend.

“Um, I don’t know if maybe you might not want to — so feel free to say no, since I know you have stuff going on,” you said once you parked in front of Wanda’s shop. “But I went to this really nice garden a few days ago and saw that next weekend there’s a Spring festival event, and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.”

Before Wanda could answer, you added quickly, “Again, also, I don’t wanna add to your stress.”

“Y/N,” Wanda said, softly, before reaching over to place her hand atop of yours where it laid on your thigh. “I would love to go with you. I don’t think you’re a bother, and it wouldn’t add to my stress to see you at all. In fact, I think I would thoroughly enjoy taking the weekend to relax with you.”

“Really?”

Wanda nodded and smiled. “Westview has the Spring festival every year — it’s one of the reasons I’m quite busy at the shop at the start of the season.”

“Would your kids like to go?”

“Their father is taking them to New York City this weekend, so it’ll be just you and I, if that’s okay.”

The enthusiasm written on your face at her answer made Wanda giggle.

—

“What’s got you so jolly at six in the morning?” Agatha asked as she was unloading the shipment of glass vases from the delivery truck.

“What?” Wanda asked, looking up from her bag that she had placed in the backroom to start helping her unload.

The two women had been friends since Wanda moved into Westview with Vision years ago. She was there for her before they divorced, during it, and after, and helped Wanda open her business.

In fact, Agatha was Wanda’s right-hand woman in the shop, and they worked closely in terms of their job position and responsibilities.

Agatha stood up straight and put her hands on her hips, surveying her best friend.

“What are you looking at?” Wanda inquired hastily, leaning over to try and lift up a rather large securely-wrapped vase — it was for a new store’s grand opening for this upcoming weekend, so they ordered a rather large ensemble. “Can you help me?”

She ignored Wanda’s request for help and pressed on. “Are you seeing someone?”

“What? No! I’m not seeing anyone.”

Agatha squinted and her fingers tapped distractedly against her hip. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Agatha, I’m sure. Please–”

“Did you sleep with someone last night? A one-night stand, then.”

Wanda stood up straight and put her hands on her own hips defiantly. “No!” she answered with finality. “Why are you asking me all this?”

“You just look like…”

“Like what?”

“You look smitten.”

She never used the term smitten in thinking about how she felt about you, but to have someone else call it that made Wanda reevaluate her feelings toward you.

Is that how she felt?

“It’s just nice to be noticed… and-and taken care of,” Wanda said as she and Agatha started restocking the inventory room, with Wanda checking things off their checklist and taking inventory count — albeit distractedly.

“Honey,” Agatha started, setting down a planter on the table Wanda was leaning her hip on and standing in front of her. “I’m so happy that you’ve met Y/N, and she seems really sweet, but I hope you know what you’re doing with someone younger than you.”

She added, “It’s not like this is something familiar to you. The only person you’ve really been with is your ex-husband, and you were the younger woman.”

Wanda looked down at the checklist, thinking. “I don’t think I’m really expecting her to… to want anything. I don’t think she could even be interested in that,” she said. “I think maybe I should just see things from a black-and-white perspective — see things as they are.”

“Don’t get me wrong — I don’t want to deter you from pursuing who you’re interested in, Wanda,” Agatha told her. “I just don’t want to see you hurt. I know you’ve been married and that you have kids, but you have a wide-eyed view of the world. I don’t want to see you get hurt or let down.”

—

“Were you busy today?” you asked as you held the passenger door open for Wanda.

“Thank you,” she said with a grateful smile as she slid in. “No — Agatha was working with me all day.”

When you got into the driver’s seat, you asked, “Who’s that?”

“She’s a good friend of mine, and we opened the shop together,” Wanda explained, buckling herself in. “How was your day?”

The conversation was so casual and almost domestic, and the comfort of being able to see you after work felt a lot like coming back home after a long day.

“I guess not so bad,” you answered, making your way home. “I was reading and taking notes all day.”

After a moment of trying to garner some confidence, Wanda spoke. “Y/N, I want to say that I really appreciate your company, and how kind you’ve been to me,” she said honestly, playing with her fingers with her hands tucked between her thighs. “I don’t have a lot of time to meet new people, and Westview is rather small, so it’s also rare for anyone to be as thoughtful as you.”

She added, “I thought I should be honest, and I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate the time you take for me.”

You shifted a little in your seat, and Wanda thought maybe you were just taking a moment to choose your words carefully.

“I didn’t think you were unappreciative,” you reassured. “I was just trying to be friendly.”

Friendly.

Wanda looked at you for a few moments, studying your face, until you turned and smiled at her. She returned the smile and looked back to the road silently.

Had she embarrassed you this morning?

Was she misreading things?

She wanted to sink into the seat and fall right through to the core of the earth.

The rest of the drive was filled mostly with small talk, though it didn’t feel very awkward. However, Wanda felt like she was on edge, like she had some responsibility to be more direct or open, and she didn’t quite know how else to be anything but hesitant and unsure of herself.

She felt disappointed when you pulled into her driveway, now having been unable to communicate her affection for you properly throughout the drive.

“By the way, uh…” You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly and Wanda looked at you, anxious about what you might say.

If you were going to apologise for being so forward and open with her, she wouldn’t know what to do next. She wanted to keep becoming closer with you, and to spend time with you like you’d discussed, and she wouldn’t know how to take that up on her own if you decided to apologise for everything.

“I made you dinner,” you said finally and turned around to reach in the backseat to hand Wanda a tupperware of pasta that was still quite warm. “You’re always coming back late, and I’m sometimes having dinner later because I just get caught up with the work I’m doing, so I thought I’d just make you some since I was gonna pick you up.”

You had an awkward, nervous smile on your lips and your thumb kept tapping against the lid as you spoke.

Wanda melted, her hand coming to her chest as she leaned forward to take a look at what looked like spaghetti. “Y/N, I don’t know what to say… You didn’t have to…”

She felt truly a loss for words, being entirely unable to remember the last time someone had been so considerate of her.

Since her divorce, most of Wanda’s life had been occupied by her job and her children. It wasn’t anything to complain about, and she very rarely ever did, but your kindness and attention the past little while reminded her of how infrequently she had anything new happen in her life.

“You’re so considerate of me,” she said as sincerely as she could communicate, looking up from the food and at you, who met her eyes with a soft blush before looking away.

The bashfulness of your reaction made Wanda take her bottom lip between her teeth, a small grin forming on her lips, equally as nervous but also fueled by her intrigue in you.

“Thank you for driving me and making me dinner,” Wanda said after unlocking her front door.

When she turned, you were standing on her porch looking at her expectantly, the tupperware in hand. She thought you looked so sweet… and young — just innocent.

There was something so delicate about the respectful distance the both of you kept, a lingering interest in one another, and something that just felt tense.

It made Wanda ache in ways she couldn’t quite explain.

Even with Vision, the excitement she’d felt with him was different from what she was feeling now. She was so young back when they first met, and the pull she’d felt towards him was similar to that of a lighthouse’s to a stranded sailor.

There was so much she’d yet to learn or live through when she first met him, and she often wondered how things might’ve been if she hadn’t spent so much of her time tied down.

But at the end of everything, there were the twins, and Wanda could never truly wish for anything that had happened up until now to change if it meant not having them.

If she thought about it, it seemed that most of what she did was settle for a lack of other opportunity; nothing very new or exciting happened in her life nor in Westview, and by the time she was no longer who she was when she first moved to America, she was engaged with plans for children and a future with the first man she’d met when she came here.

She suddenly felt quite determined to become close with you, for it certainly wasn’t very often that anyone paid her any mind.

Especially not someone like you.

“I really enjoy your company, Ms Maximoff, and I know you think I’m always going so far out of my way for you, but honestly, I like to be able to help,” you insisted.

Wanda felt a surge in the depths of her lower stomach and up to her chest at the polite tone of your voice and the way you looked in the warm orange of her porch light. She stepped forward and took the tupperware from you. She wrapped an arm around your upper back and pecked your cheek.

“The effort isn’t lost on me, I assure you,” she said, then pulled away with a soft smile to find your cheeks slightly flushed and your eyes darting around nervously. Her smile could only widen in response and she laughed a little, pulling away from you to head inside.

She bid you a goodbye with a wave of her hand which you returned, and Wanda closed the front door behind her.

Almost immediately once she closed the door, the twins called from their father’s phone to talk with her before they headed to bed; sometimes they called in the evenings when they were away, and especially if they’d done something fun with their father earlier.

They greeted her together: “Hi, mom!”

“Hi, boys,” she replied with a widening grin as she set her things down, balancing your tupperware in the other arm. “Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”

Then there came the excuses of wanting to stay up to speak with her. She thought they were cute when they were making excuses, so she pretended she didn’t catch on.

It wasn’t until after the call ended and Wanda was in the middle of eating the dinner you’d prepared for her that she finally had time to reflect on some things.

Firstly, the dinner was delicious, and so that made a marvellous impression in her mind about you as a well-put-together student who knew how to cook for herself.

Then she wondered — worried, even — if the kiss was going a bit too far. But you didn’t seem uncomfortable, and there was something about you that made Wanda think you were–

She frowned at herself, rubbing her forehead with the hand she was holding her fork in as she nearly came to a thought that she wouldn’t be able to decipher between projection and reality.

And if it were projection, that must mean there was some sort of intentionality behind it.

Maybe Agatha was right, and she really was smitten.

What would anyone else call it — a crush?

That made her nose wrinkle up as she poked at the pasta, deep in thought; older women didn’t get crushes. Older women were presently married or they got divorced.

But a college student, for crying out loud…

What was she thinking?

She took her bottom lip between her teeth and stared at her phone, trying to repress the urge to text you about dinner as if she hadn’t just been scolding herself for the complicated feelings she was having about you.

Giving in, she set the fork down and texted you, telling you that the dinner was delicious, and moreover, that she would certainly have to find a way to pay you back and buy you a meal this weekend.

She thought she was acting ridiculous for having just previously been feeling conflicted for how she was feeling and now itching to hear a response from you.

Wanda moved her empty bowl away and hid her face in her arms, feeling helpless for the fluttery way she continued to feel in her stomach in spite of how her mind desperately tried to come up with ways to reason her thoughts of you away.

She knew what anyone would call her — a divorcée desperate for attention from a younger girl who wasn’t as caught up with life as people her age were and so, predictably, Wanda clung onto you.

But it wasn’t like she couldn’t get the attention of other people.

Once Wanda had signed up for a dating app upon Agatha’s advice, and she thought it was rather easy to find people interested in her, though often attracting men she didn’t feel very invested in at all nor whom she ever enjoyed seeing enough for a second date.

Not very often, but here and there, Wanda would be approached by men in public too.

She always thought her lack of interest was because she was too busy, and even entertained the idea that perhaps she just wasn’t cut out for any kind of relationship after her marriage.

But she didn’t feel that way at all about you. She thought you were sweet and rather cute and though she had to admit there was something about your age that enticed her, she also really enjoyed talking with you when she could over text, and often looked forward to passing by you in the driveway.

She was curious about things like your schooling and what you thought of Westview, and more about where you’d come from and how you decorated the inside of your place.

And there was a feeling deep within her chest and rising up her belly when she was around you or when you spoke with her, blushing around her or smiling in the shy way you did, that she couldn’t recall if she felt with Vision at all.

As Wanda got ready for bed and pretended like there wasn’t a reason she carried her phone with her to the washroom, she thought more about how she felt about Vision when they first met, and questioned her attraction to him.

There were times when she certainly felt attracted, though most typically when they were about to have sex and more frequently after they got married, but she couldn’t recall if the interest she felt with you this early into knowing you was ever involved in how she regarded Vision.

She just couldn’t stop thinking about how unsure and confused she was during the time of her life when they’d first met, and how that differed greatly from the place she was in now.

While getting into bed, Wanda’s phone buzzed. She picked it up faster than she’d like to admit.

You texted: Yay! Glad you like it!! I’m really looking forward to this weekend :)

A smile came to Wanda’s face as she read your text and she slowly descended into the comfort of her sheets as she replied. Perhaps she should’ve just liked the message and headed to bed, but after thinking of you for so long, she couldn’t help but want to talk a little more.

She replied: Are you still up doing work? Or are you heading to bed soon?

The response was read almost immediately and Wanda felt her heart race.

Just one more thing I have to do, then bedtime.. I hope you sleep well, Ms Maximoff <3

Wanda felt a rush surge through her and she inhaled sharply after reading the message, feeling her fingers partially frozen for a moment.

It was at a time in her relationship with you that you could start calling her by her first name, and really, the formalities made her feel a little old.

But also, there was something she liked about how polite you were — the shy smile on your face as you called her Ms Maximoff, how well-mannered you were.

And if she really thought about it… Wanda thought it placed her in a position of some authority, implying not only an age difference but a power dynamic when you addressed her.

It was new for her.

Don’t overwork yourself, Y/N :) Sweet dreams.

Wanda set her phone down and stared up at the ceiling. She wondered if you’ve ever been interested in an older woman before. Her cheeks immediately warmed at the thought — calling herself an older woman, carrying with it some sort of scandalous implication, and imagining you, someone so innocent and sweet, involved in it.

Her thoughts wandered before she could stop them, thinking of what that dynamic might be like.

Did she suit the ‘older woman’ character? Didn’t someone young like you need someone older and experienced, and confident about their sexuality? Isn’t that how these things normally went?

But she hardly knew anything, and only had one very short fling with a man since her divorce.

She’d never even been with a woman, let alone a younger girl.

Wanda turned onto her side and brought her plush blankets up to her face, the cold surface of it cooling her flushed cheeks.

But she couldn’t help but really think about it… As in, the kind of relationship and dynamic the two of you might have together if it really did happen, and if, maybe, she wasn’t making it all up.

If you had the capacity to like an older woman, that must’ve meant you had been with other girls before.

The thought of it made Wanda’s heart race.

She’d heard from Agatha the difference between being with a woman and with a man, that women were softer and smarter, knowing how to touch another woman as if she were herself, never thinking of imposing herself upon her like men did.

Sleeping with a woman is a form of masturbation, she’d said, for how women knew each other like they knew themselves.

Wanda wondered if you were as gentle with a lover as you were by your nature, for she knew that some people were vastly different in the bedroom than they were outside of it.

The thought of you exploring her body with your open palms and curved fingers, just as considerate and kind as you always were with her, a shaky ‘Ms Maximoff, is this okay?’ spilling from your lips as you moved closer–

Wanda squeezed her eyes shut and turned onto her other side, her fingers tightening around her blankets as she felt an undeniable ache growing between her thighs.

Daring to act defiantly against her sense of shame and dignity, trembling fingers slipped beneath her pajama shorts, not daring to go farther than her hips.

Her nails sunk into her right hip, scratching lightly at the skin as she held herself back, only for her thoughts to wander to the idea of your clumsy hands grabbing at her hips, your nails pressing into her skin as you pulled her closer, your breath shaky.

She took one of her pillows and lifted her blanket up, tucking it between her thighs and up against her clothed centre.

Taking her bottom lip between her teeth and hiding the top half of her face with her hand, she dared to roll her hips forward to satisfy the pressure between her thighs. But it was too dull for how her clit throbbed, desperate for further contact.

Frustrated at both how she was giving in and with how she had grown so desperate to the point of hastily pushing the pillow out of the way, she slipped her fingers past the waistband of her shorts and underwear.

The pads of her fingers met with the warmth of her sticky folds and Wanda whimpered into her pillow, turning her head and hiding from some invisible presence that she imagined was looking down at the display she was putting on.

She circled her middle finger against her clit and she shuddered, goosebumps running up her thighs as she tightly wrapped an arm around the pillow she’d previously pushed away, and she pulled it to her chest.

When she felt she was wet enough, and at the feeling of how she began tightening around nothing, her eyebrows furrowed together as she entered herself with two fingers, her thighs parting to allow her wrist some room.

She couldn’t help the way her mind went to you, not when her body urged to feel more; her thoughts summoned the thought of you, daring to imagine you beneath her, your hands running up her bare hips and up to hold her waist, the look of your face contorted with pleasure, your eyes meeting hers.

She’d never considered herself very assertive, especially not in the bedroom, but there was just something about you that awoke something in her that was completely foreign.

The idea of it excited her.

She’d never felt so… aroused.

Her thoughts gradually became more shameful, thinking about how you sounded like when you orgasmed, and particularly enjoying the idea that you’d be shy to make noise, prone to begging, and one to be eager to please your lover.

Wanda felt herself inch closer to her climax.

Maybe you’d be nervous to be with an older woman, hesitant to touch her and worried about being disrespectful. The thought of herself encouraging you, no longer being unsure and passive about things, sent a thrill through Wanda that she was certain she’d never felt before.

All this she associated only with you, and as she felt herself begin to tighten around her fingers, Wanda’s mind was full of you, shamelessly, and her heart pounded against her ribcage.

She came, crying out partially-muffled with half her face buried in her pillow, her wrist sore and her fingers numb to the repetitive speed at which she fingered herself.

When she fell back down from her height, her previously-arched back met the damp sheets beneath her and she felt momentarily anaesthetised as she caught her breath.

She groaned at how fatigued she felt, not having had such a tiring orgasm in a while, much less with just her fingers.

While she was washing her hands, she thought of you, wondered if you’d ever touched yourself to the thought of her, and soon squarely came to the decision that she would pursue you.

She’d made quite a mess of herself, and decided to also change her underwear before heading to bed.

The next few days before the weekend approached, Wanda felt increasingly encouraged every time she interacted with you, especially after having kissed you on the cheek that night. She still felt that she’d gone a little too far, but you still seemed to really like her.

She realised that she didn’t know as much about you as she’d like, and became increasingly enthusiastic about thst weekend when she’d be able to spend more time with you.

On Friday, you and Wanda made plans for the weekend, and it was agreed that she would drive the both of you to the festival then back home to repay you for a few nights ago.

Dressed in a sundress that reached below her knees and deciding to go with her hair down, Wanda nervously crossed the strip of grass that divided your two driveways and walked up to your front door.

It was convenient that you were neighbours, but the space between the two of you left very little time for Wanda to soothe her own anxiety as she prepared for a day out together.

You opened the front door and stepped through as if not trying to waste a moment to head out.

“Hi,” you said with a smile as you stepped onto the porch before turning to lock the front door.

“Hi,” she answered and returned the polite smile when you turned back around, slightly nervous with her hands held in front of her body, holding her purse.

Wanda was suddenly overcome at your momentary undivided attention, feeling that if you scrutinised her just enough, you’d be able to read on her face what she had done to the thought of you that first night it happened, and nearly every night since.

It was the first time she was seeing you since then beyond some short conversations in the driveway, and some paranoid part of her thought you secretly knew all she’d been doing.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you with your hair down,” you noted as we drove to the town square where the festival was taking place. “Did you curl it a little?”

Feeling suddenly self-conscious now that you’d noticed, Wanda took one hand off the wheel and played with the ends of her hair. “Um,” she hesitated. “I did — a little.”

“No, I mean, it’s really pretty, Ms Maximoff,” you quickly said in case she got the wrong idea.

Feeling that perhaps you might’ve been teasing, for whatever reason, Wanda looked over at you momentarily and found you looking over at her. You met her eyes with a small encouraging smile and Wanda looked back onto the road.

“Thank you,” she replied, a smile of her own slowly growing. “I don’t usually do anything with it because I’m either working or at home, and don’t often dress up for anything.” She kept her hair short for functionality reasons, partly, and also because she’d cut it after her divorce just to try something new and found some comfort in keeping the same hairstyle.

Once or twice, she tried to grow it out again, but it just seemed impractical for how often she kept her hair up or had it pushed back with a headband during work, and even at home.

It made her feel rather flattered that you paid mind to something like her hair, since for the most part Wanda saw herself as blending in with the rest of Westview’s docile and placid background, which was to say that she didn’t think there wasn’t anything particularly interesting about herself.

To have a fresh pair of eyes focus on her so much made sparks flutter about in her body.

Her polite smile wavered slightly as more perverse thoughts overcame her. She wondered what lay beyond your still gaze that was both polite as your eyes crinkled at the sides and slightly girlish as your face seemed to glow when you smiled.

Surely, no one suspected that she’d done all that she had to the thought of you — how wet the thought of you made her, the amount of times she moaned your name with her back arched or with her body sprawled across the cool sheets of her bed.

But she had done them all.

Could the same be said for you, beyond an externality that no one else would suspect such things about?

Wanda felt a wave of shame course through her — what was she doing, assuming such things about a college student, and projecting her own desires onto you?

But even that thrum of shame made her ache and she pressed her thighs together in her seat; she should’ve felt humiliated and ashamed for the thoughts she was having, but instead, she felt… thrilled, and in a way she hadn’t ever felt before.

Upon arriving at the festival, and finding a good parking spot in a closer area designated for employees due to Wanda owning the shop that had provided so many of the booths with their bouquets and flower arrangements, the two of you decided on getting lunch first.

Truthfully, Wanda had been so anxious about the upcoming day out with you that her nerves had been far too frenzied to allow her to stomach any food, or to feel any hunger to begin with. It was only until she passed a booth of fresh buttered corn that she’d realised she hadn’t eaten a thing all day, and that she was finally hungry.

Deciding on some deli sandwiches, you and Wanda took your food and drinks to a seating area beneath an oak tree at one of the parks.

For a Spring day, it was particularly warm — likely because there was hardly any breeze at all.

For the weather, Wanda was glad she was wearing a dress, and maybe she was just making it all up, but she could swear she’d seen your eyes running over her exposed legs, and even peeking down her dress.

Maybe you were just curious about what she was wearing, but still, Wanda couldn’t control the way she felt her heart thump at the prospect that you were checking her out.

The eyes of men had only ever made her feel preyed on, and whether she was anything less than mildly annoyed depended on whether she had enough patience to tolerate any of it.

Sometimes she thought it was strange for her to feel so abhorrent towards men when she’d been able to marry Vision. She hadn’t felt this impatient and bored around him, and not even when they’d first met.

She certainly wouldn’t call it abhorrent, but with how often women her age spoke about fantasies or fooling around with younger men or their handsome coworkers — even Agatha had a tendency to do this — it wasn’t uncommon for some to question her interest in remarrying or at the very least, finding a new partner.

All this she told you as you ate together, aside from how the train of thought started with her realising how aroused she felt at the thought that you were checking her out. She was interested in sharing much more about herself and learning that much more about you.

“Maybe you haven’t met the right guy yet,” you suggested helpfully. “A lot of people say the right one comes along when you’re not really looking.”

Seriously, though, for whatever reason, the idea of going through the motions of meeting a new man was a process Wanda felt herself dreading whenever she thought about it. She could imagine nothing worse than inviting a man into her home and introducing him to her children, him meeting her friends, being touched by a man, waking up next to one.

“I don’t think I’m looking for any guy right now,” Wanda replied, pushing a tomato that had partially slipped from her sandwich back in between the bread. She looked up and found you were looking at her, perhaps trying to interpret what she was saying.

While she had your rapt attention, she couldn’t help but suddenly ask, “Where did you meet your boyfriend?”

The question made you blush a little but you also laughed, as if what she was asking could be interpreted as irony.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you answered, replying politely for it had been a serious question albeit with the intention to probe into your love life.

Wanda tried not to show any expression at your answer, and instead tapped the tip of her shoe against the grass beneath her seat idly as if to pace herself. The thought that you might have a boyfriend was one of the ideas that Wanda let float around in her head to rein her mind back to chastity when it wandered off, and she felt herself take in a small breath when you said you didn’t have one.

“I presume it would be far too much to balance now that you’ve moved away and are now doing work in a new town,” Wanda said then finished the last bite of her sandwich.

You made a noise like agreement, but also as if you had more to say on the topic, and when Wanda looked at you, you seemed to be gauging whether to say more. You bit your tongue after taking too long to choose between asking if she herself was seeing anyone or saying that you weren’t interested in men at all.

‘I suppose that’s true,’ is all you ended up saying.

After lunch, you and Wanda decided to walk through the corn maze attraction because the both of you were interested in talking much more and moving your bodies without being distracted by the booths and festival games.

It was quite fun to go through the maze with you. It was really rare that Wanda got time to do fun things like this with someone other than the twins — not that she didn’t enjoy spending that time with them, but she herself felt a little more like a child spending this kind of time with you, which wasn’t a liberty she very often had the chance to experience.

A maze was the perfect thing to do with you, Wanda thought, for even taking the wrong turn meant spending more time with you as you walked back to the fork to try a different path, and neither of you were in a rush to finish, so it was more like a fun walk.

You also said that though the research position was interesting so far, it was a routine that didn’t allow for much enjoyment unless you went out of your way to do something new.

Wanda sympathised, saying that much of her new milestones in life had come about that way — marriage, having children, and starting her business with Agatha. After saying it, she realised how depressing it sounded and even felt a little embarrassed talking about such things with you. You were young after all, and here she was rambling about how all of her life was a comfortable endless routine as if she were Sisyphus.

“You must think I’m rather boring,” Wanda said, looking down at the mess of hay, flattened onto the grass from all the people who’d trekked through the maze. Her tone sounded almost apologetic to her ears though she didn’t think she was trying to apologise for anything in particular.

“What?” you said, shocked. “What do you mean? No, I don’t.”

She laughed a little at your shock, but couldn’t help but feel that your response was a little naive. Once you grew up some more and experienced more of the world and met far more interesting people, Wanda was sure she’d only be a memory you’d look back on with some kind of pity, thinking, ‘What a sweet woman she was — such a shame she lived in such a dull town. After all, I could only stand living there for so long until my research period was over.’

“Well, I’m always doing all the same things,” Wanda explained. “I’ll probably be doing it for much longer too until the twins grow up and go off to college. I love the shop but I think I’d rather move elsewhere once they don’t need me in town.”

There was silence and Wanda looked over to you as you both turned a corner, and you looked to be a little confused, or at least thinking.

“But,” you started, “how does that have anything to do with you being boring?”

“How does that not mean I’m boring?” Wanda replied though acutely aware of how strange she was sounding, arguing for self-deprecation. “I just mean there’s nothing particularly interesting that I do.”

Then she added, perhaps rambling out of a place of deep belief, “It’s different from you — you’re still young and pursuing your passions.”

The images of you and Dottie walking around the few times that Wanda had seen the two of you came to mind again. Even if there was a chance that you would be interested in women, and women that were older than you, Dottie seemed to be a better match for you. She was more talkative and though she was an elementary school teacher, she was still working in some form of schooling, which might interest you far more than flowers and single-motherhood, and she was younger than Wanda and, from the looks of it, seemed to have more free time to spend with you than she did. Plus, she hadn’t yet been married and didn’t have any children.

Wanda could’ve been way over her head in two respects, and suddenly she felt a little foolish for how she’d been thinking of you — all this build-up in her mind when she didn’t suit you at all to begin with.

“But I think you’re interesting,” you reasoned. “I don’t think I’ve ever really put a lot of thought into what you do work-wise. Or your daily schedule.”

Then after a moment, when Wanda didn’t respond immediately, you added hesitantly, “But is that… something you’d expect people to consider? Or is that something you consider, usually?”

Wanda felt a kind of whiplash from the jelly you’d turned her legs into and the shame she then immediately felt for how shallow she must’ve seemed to you. “N-No,” she stuttered, speaking right away to not seem idiotic and just hoping to find the actual words she wanted to say while she was rambling nonsensically.

Truthfully, you didn’t think Wanda was being shallow at all, or that she was being overly concerned with hers and other people’s professions. You were also aware of the age difference between you and her, and how preferences and paths of life differed between ages; you were embarrassed at first, thinking that maybe you sounded far too naive, like a child with no grasp of real life or what really mattered to someone busy and with their own lives like she had.

Often, you thought you were way over your head, crushing on and fantasising about an older woman with her own business and family, with her own priorities who was now settled down and likely too busy to think about any romantic partner.

Much less with a college girl.

And wasn’t Wanda’s ex-husband a lawyer?

College girls weren’t her type.

“No,” she started again, “I just thought… We’re different in that respect, so I thought it might have maybe… bored you.”

If Wanda hadn’t also been looking down at the ground, listening to the muffled sounds of hay and grass beneath her shoes, she would’ve looked up and been able to see that you looked slightly flustered, for you felt that you were in a position of being confessed to.

It didn’t go over your head how Wanda seemed rather concerned about how you viewed her, and worried that you might think that she was boring. The very idea, whatever its context was, that she thought so often about you and your perspective of her made your knees feel a little mushy.

“But… You think I’m interesting?” Wanda then asked, raising her head and looking at you.

You had been so adamant to prove her wrong that you’d sort of just blurted it out. You thought you’d gone a little too far, but you looked over to Wanda and met her eyes.

It could’ve been the way the sun peeked from above the hay maze and cast its light upon Wanda’s face, but her eyes seemed particularly lit up, her expression looking even a bit hopeful as she asked you for confirmation.

“Um, yes, I do,” you confirmed with a smile. “I think you’re really nice and interesting and sometimes I see you out in the driveway with your twins and you seem like such a sweet family, and I’ve been curious about you since you said you owned a floral shop and brought me flowers.”

Well, now you were rambling.

Then you said something really stupid.

“Also, um… I think you’re a really pretty woman. I mean, ‘gorgeous’ is a better word. I hardly ever hear ‘pretty woman’ as a compliment, though I meant it to be true. It just sounds odd as a word combination.”

Wanda felt cheeks heating up and she was grateful that the two of you had finally found the end of the maze, for she felt like she needed to take a breath. But she couldn’t not respond to something like that right away. She swallowed and reached for your forearm and brushed her fingers against your skin to reassure you when you looked away, then dropped her hand.

She knew she should be saying something in response, especially now that she’d gotten your attention back by touching your arm, but she couldn’t come up with any words, just staring into your eyes with lips slightly parted but completely silent.

“Can we play one of the games?” you then offered, and Wanda blinked out of her stupor, remembering where the two of you were.

“A game?” she asked, still slightly disoriented.

You continued walking away from the maze exit and headed towards the festival, Wanda following beside you.

“Maybe I can win you a stuffed toy,” you suggested, looking around at the game booths.

Wanda smiled at the glint of determination in your eyes and stepped closer to you. “Maybe I’ll win you a toy first,” she challenged lightheartedly, looking for any excuse to interact with you more.

The rest of the time you moved between different games, and you and Wanda didn’t talk so much about things other than the games you were playing and some lighthearted memories that came up as you played.

Both of you were enjoying your time, but Wanda particularly, who’d never really done anything during such town events aside from help organise and sometimes take the twins out for them.

Her cheeks were sore from smiling and laughing by the time you were the one to win a prize first.

You handed her a stuffed blue jellyfish, with thin curly tentacles and a soft round body, spotted with white and pale blue.

“It’s so cute,” Wanda said with a tiny smile, squishing the soft body of the jellyfish gently and running her eyes over it in detail as the two of you walked to her car.

She insisted, “I was really close to getting you the giraffe… It was luck that you won first — not skill.”

“Maybe I can win you the ability not to be a sore loser next time,” you poked.

Then as she raised her head, seeing her car come into closer view, it dawned on her that she’d be dropping you off at home and your time together would be over, but she wasn’t quite ready to end the day.

She stopped at the driver’s side and spoke to you over the roof of the car, “Do you want to take a look inside the shop? Maybe I can help you put together a bouquet, or any kind of decorative piece for your place.”

She added, to ensure she didn’t sound pushy, “Only if you want to and if you have time. I’m sure you had other things planned for the day.”

You beamed at the suggestion and nodded with a smile. “I’d love to see the shop,” you said enthusiastically.

“I’m excited to see more of where you are and what you get up to for so much of your day,” you confessed, your hands folded in between your thighs. “I remember when I visited, and it was gorgeous at the front of the store.”

Wanda thought it was so sweet how you thought her little shop was so fantastical. “It’s a bit more of a mess in the back and less presentation-worthy, but I’m also looking forward to showing you around,” she replied, looking over to you and feeling flustered at how genuinely happy you were.

The feeling that you were truly eager to spend more time with her made Wanda all but melt in her seat.

It was beginning to darken, a soft purple-pink tint coming over the sky as the sun began to set. It was still a little light outside, and the pink hue of the sun cast in a nice way against your skin.

Wanda was feeling nice thinking about the fact that you’d been out together for a while now, and that you’d be out for longer still.

“I don’t do this for just any old neighbour, you know,” Wanda teased, looking at you from the corner of her eye as she unlocked the front door.

“Just a few?” you joked back.

Without hesitation, Wanda replied and looked over at you with a little grin, “Just you.”

She didn’t seem to think very much of what she said, though it struck you as rather flirtatious and made you feel like a special figure in her life, since she walked ahead right after saying it, leaving you to follow behind after breaking from your momentary stupor.

It felt so peaceful to be at the shop in the evening with you, telling you about things like how to store freshly cut flowers and how she kept them preserved upon shipments and how they did deliveries.

Wanda had indeed been interested in flowers and plants and owning a floral shop when she first opened it with Agatha, but much of the passion had turned into businesslike concern, and oftentimes Wanda didn’t have much time to take a step back and enjoy what she was doing.

But your fresh pair of eyes and genuine curiosity, asking her questions like how she knew she wanted to open a shop and how long she’d known Agatha for, made Wanda see everything like she had when she first opened the shop, and your curiosity and interest reminded her closely of the kind of passion she’d gotten distracted from once she got used to Westview’s repetition.

Wanda kept viewing herself from the shoes of Agatha if she had also been in the shop somewhere, watching as she giggled at your playful jokes and blushed at your undivided attention, which didn’t necessarily have to be interpreted as flirtatious for Wanda to feel flustered by.

Sometimes all you had to do was look at her while Wanda wasn’t looking so when she turned to look at you, your eyes were on her rather than on whatever she was trying to show you.

She kept thinking of Agatha especially because Wanda wondered whether she was making all of it up, and if all of it truly was platonic, and she wondered what her closest friend would say about all of this.

But the more Wanda felt herself stuttering around you or making some excuse to stand close to you or brush against you, she could no longer trust even her interpretations of what a third-party might say about things.

But the most delusional of it all, Wanda thought, was that she kept thinking of the image of you with Dottie walking down the shopping district during the times where Wanda was too busy to spend time with you and talk with you as much as she wanted.

She kept recalling the feeling of how tired she’d been coming out of work, the sun just about to start setting, and looking forward to getting home after picking up the twins. She had been at a stoplight thinking of what to make for dinner when you passed in front her along the crosswalk, Dottie at your side as you spoke with each other.

She was always wearing something pretty, her taste in clothing professional and delicate as an elementary school teacher, her blonde hair always curled or put up.

From what she’d heard from the few times she attended the town meetings — not that Dottie was so infamous but rather because she was friends with some of the mothers who attended — Dottie was the daughter of old-money parents who owned acres of rural farmland a few hours away from New Jersey.

Dottie was everything Wanda wasn’t.

Were you doing things like this with her too?

Were you only being polite?

While the two of you were putting together a little vase of different coloured roses together for your living room, Wanda quietly spoke up. “I’ve been meaning to ask you…” she started quietly, kind of hoping you might suddenly change the topic, leaving the question forgotten.

But instead you looked up from trimming a stem of a white rose, your curiosity piqued as you anticipated her question.

Wanda felt your eyes on her and she kept her hands busy carefully removing the thorns of the roses as she continued. “Not to sound… strange…” she said, trying her best to keep her voice steady and unsuspecting. “But a few weeks ago I saw you with Dottie, and I was just curious about how you knew her.”

She took a risk and looked up from the flower she was holding.

“She was Tommy and Billy’s teacher once, and they still go to that elementary school, so I sometimes see her around when I drop them off and pick them up,” she added, to sound like she was asking for a practical reason.

“Oh,” you said, sounding a little surprised to hear her name brought up. “She’s a friend of the professor I’m doing research with. I… can’t really remember how they know each other. I think it might be through Dottie’s parents.”

A wave of cool relief washed over Wanda and she looked back down to the roses and started dethorning the other one to keep her face down in case she accidentally looked a bit elated.

“I see,” she answered as nonchalantly as she could, though she could hear a waver of relief evident in the way she breathed out. “It’s a small town.” But Wanda still couldn’t help but press on a little, feeling not yet fully satisfied by your answer.

“But… You don’t see her… often, do you?” she asked, looking up again just to see your expression, and hoping you didn’t seem suspicious about why she was asking.

You shook your head, just focused on trimming the stems the right length and carefully placing them in a pleasing way amongst each other in the vase Wanda provided. “No, not often at all,” you said. “Usually I see her when we’re meeting up together to have coffee with my professor.”

“So it’s a professional relationship?”

To that, you finally looked up from the flowers in your hands and looked over at Wanda, who immediately internally cursed herself for not watching her mouth; she’d gone a little too far, just asking you whatever came to mind.

“I don’t even know if it would be considered professional, per se,” you answered, your hands lowering a little as you focused on giving an answer. “She doesn’t have anything to do with my research. I think it’s just circumstantial — that’s a good way to describe it.”

Wanda swallowed and looked back down to the roses, immediately ready to drop the subject and move onto something else after realising just how overly curious she’d been sounding.

Suddenly you were feeling a little awkward that Wanda had been talking about professional relationships and networking and all. All of that felt like a different world, and there was still a lot that Wanda considered in life that you didn’t.

You didn’t even think you had professional relationships, really, aside from your professor.

It felt like every time she brought up something you didn’t understand, the difference in age between the two of you became all the more evident, and you felt yourself becoming more and more childish and inexperienced in her eyes.

“Um, by the way… Ms Maximoff, I wanted to say that I felt kind of nervous to ask you to go out this weekend,” you confessed, and from the corner of your eye you saw Wanda raise her head and look at you. “I thought it might’ve been… I don’t know, like, a little stupid, even.”

“What?” she asked, surprised. She set her rose down and turned her body a little to look at you. The tone of her voice made you raise your head and meet her eyes. “Stupid? Why?”

You weren’t exactly sure what you had hoped to accomplish by confessing that, but you almost just felt like apologising somewhat for doing something stupid or childish before Wanda could realise it for herself.

Maybe you’d seem a little less naive if you just admitted to it right away, because honestly, you really did think you had been sounding a little stupid to ask her out for the festival, and often wondered if she only ever said yes to you out of pity because of how young you were.

Sometimes when she apologised for seeming standoffish or distant, you couldn’t help but feel that she was just trying to tend to a child’s tantrum.

But her response wasn’t as you initially thought it would be, and she seemed truly shocked at your confession, so you felt a little flustered and you now felt that you had been overdramatic.

“I-I just mean… Well…”

As you stuttered for a response, you realised you had no excuse to make, and honestly, Wanda had only ever been kind to you, so you had no reason to try and lie. So you thought to tell the truth.

“It sometimes feels like I don’t really have a grasp on your life, and like you may just be too busy or disinterested to do stuff like go out to a festival to get driven to work or…”

You trailed off to find the rest of your words, and you saw Wanda continuing to watch your face from the corner of your eye. One of her arms was resting on the counter beside her, her hands fidgeting with each other’s fingertips in front of her stomach.

“I think maybe I didn’t really consider that you might feel more comfortable not knowing your neighbours so much, and that even though it might be true you don’t mind when I do you favours or ask to do things in our freetime, I know that you’re also busy and preoccupied with things and… Just more comfortable with how things had been.”

Well… Dottie certainly didn’t get any of this kind of confession from you.

Wanda took a tiny step forward. She knew what you were trying to get at; there was an age difference between the two of you and sometimes the difference casted doubt on whether you were both thinking the same thing, always wondering how you were perceived by the other.

“I know how you feel,” she reassured, reaching out to brush her hand against your arm against the better half of her mind telling herself it was a bad idea to move closer to you. She fidgeted with her fingers again and took a little breath, wanting to be open and honest like you just had been.

She confessed, “I think that sometimes I might be projecting myself onto you.”

The words shocked you and you looked up and met her eyes, surprised to see her looking a little nervous as she spoke. You didn’t think anything about your relationship with Wanda had the power to make her nervous; she always just seemed like she had everything so well-structured.

She owned a business with a close friend and was a single mother of two young boys and lived in a nice house. She was beautiful and kind, and the idea that she might be nervous in any sense while interacting with you surprised you greatly.

“Sometimes I can’t exactly tell if I’m… understanding things correctly…” she added, swallowing hard. The momentary silence between responses thrummed against her eardrums, and the light from the ceiling became strangely brighter and looked as light often did when she was down with a terrible flu.

The implication was heavy, and she was worried about how you would take it. She tried to immediately relax herself by thinking that you’d only pick up on what she was implying if you yourself had been thinking similar things, but there was always a chance that you’d understand what she was saying and not feel the same way.

She could hardly bear the thought of confessing unreciprocated, for she foresaw absolutely no way to come back from that kind of rejection… She would look like such a fool, and she wouldn’t know how to handle the kinds of things she did and felt because of you.

The things she felt for you had been different from anything before, and if you rejected her, there was no way for her to deal with this new kind of awakening, and she was certain there’d be no other chance to be attracted to someone in the way she was with you.

“I think maybe I’m in over my head, Ms Maximoff…” you said quietly.

Suddenly Wanda was overcome with the possibility of what you were also implying, and the very possibility that you meant what she thought was overcoming the fear of being rejected or being wrong.

All she’d been doing was fantasising and mulling over possibilities and uncertainties about how she was feeling and how you might be feeling, and now the possibility that you might feel the same way, that she wasn’t just making it all up the whole time, seemed more real and tangible than it ever had been before.

She knew she was thinking irrationally.

There were better ways to do this.

But she could only really think of doing one thing.

She placed her hand atop the counter at the midway point between the both of you and she stepped forward, tipping her head to the side ever so slightly as she moved closer. Her breath felt warm against her own lips as her exhales reached your upper lip, and your eyes looked lidded and your face slightly flushed before she closed her eyes and met her soft lips with yours.

You immediately put your rose down and placed your hand on Wanda’s lower back, pulling her closer, and Wanda felt like she could collapse into your body at the gesture.

You really did want her. She hadn’t been making it up.

Though she’d been married before, this felt like the first time anyone truly reciprocated her feelings. Maybe that was because what feelings she had for Vision weren’t anything like the ones she had for you.

She was thirty-two and feeling this way for the first time; she felt like she’d really been missing out.

It didn’t take very long for the slow and hesitant kiss to grow heated, perhaps due to its confirmation of mutual attraction and interest. Your arm wrapped around Wanda’s waist and your other hand moved up the curve of her spine, up to where her sundress exposed her upper back, your fingers entangling themselves in her hair as they moved up her neck.

Wanda sighed into your mouth, listening to the way it merged with your tiny moans and exhales. She had her own arm wrapped around your waist too, but with her other hand caressing your cheek, her thumb brushing against your soft skin, encouraging you.

She felt her lower back press against the edge of the counter and she realised you were pressing your body flush against hers.

Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest, her body feeling warm all over.

In her sundress with her arms and upper back and chest exposed, every brush you had against her skin sent shockwaves up her spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake as a familiar ache began to form deep in Wanda’s lower stomach, causing her to roll her hips forward, knocking them gently against your own.

Maybe when her mind was less fogged up and she could think of a world past the soft caresses of your hands and your delicate moans, she would think about how right Agatha was about being with women.

You were so delicate and gentle, and not only because she thought that that was just the kind of person you were, but also because of the smooth slope of your shoulders and how your arms slotted perfectly beneath hers. Your face was smooth and free of stubble and your lips were so soft, your sweet moans were enough to make Wanda weak in the knees, and you smelled so nice.

And it did really feel like you were touching her as if she were an extension of yourself.

“Ms Maximoff…” you sighed, sounding desperate as your hand fell away from cradling the back of her head and sending a wave of throbbing arousal down between Wanda’s thighs. Her eyebrows furrowed together and she pulled you closer, grasping at the hem of your shirt as her fingers tightened around the fabric, feeling just as desperate.

Then suddenly you yelped and pulled away from her lips, your body unwrapping from Wanda’s. Wanda’s eyes darted across your face and she worried for a moment that she accidentally bit your lip.

“Y/N, a-are you okay? Did I hurt you?” she asked, panicked as she looked at you. Then she noticed that you had brought your hand up, surveying it under the light of the ceiling. “What happened?”

“U-Um, I accidentally put my finger down on a thorn,” you said, looking up at her sheepishly and showing her the curved thorn deep in your index finger.

Wanda stepped close again and wrapped her fingers around your wrist to get a better look at it. “Oh, dear… That’s quite deep��” she said, her voice low as she turned your finger around in the light to get a better look at it.

“Don’t worry — this happens quite often,” she reassured, looking over at you with a smile. The eye contact made you blush and you couldn’t help the way your eyes flickered down to her lips that now looked slightly swollen with how frantic your kiss had been.

The same flushed expression came over Wanda’s face but she looked back down to your finger and carefully laid it against her hand. “Don’t move,” she said. “I’ll take it out, but I want to make sure it doesn’t break off in your finger.”

Inching your hand closer to her eyes and into the light, her other hand came up and carefully pulled out the thorn, pulling it in the direction of its curve. A tiny bead of blood came from where it had pierced your skin.

“Just a moment. Keep your finger upright,” she said, letting go of your wrist slowly so as to not move it from its place midair. She then turned and bent over a little to rummage under the counter.

You couldn’t help the way your chest fluttered at the sight of her so focused on taking care of you.

She straightened again, now holding a bandaid, and laid the back of your hand against her fingers. With slightly furrowed eyebrows, she unwrapped the bandage and carefully secured it around your finger.

“There we go…” she said softly. “Not too tight?”

Heat rose to your cheeks when she looked back up to you again and you looked away with a shy smile and shook your head. “No, it’s just perfect.”

“Good.”

Then she threw the garbage out and brushed the thorns off of the countertop and into a nearby garbage can she lifted to the edge of the counter. She set it back down on the ground then turned back over to you nervously, brushing down the front of her dress.

She bit her bottom lip awkwardly, then quietly reasoned, “Maybe it was time we headed back home, anyway.”

You looked up from the floor and met her eyes with a little nod and a polite smile.

But neither of you moved from your spots, and Wanda felt a familiar impatience and gnawing urge pulsing inside her again.

Wanda was right in her observations of you — you were rather shy, and a submissive lover. You were nervous and hesitant, and after kissing you, she was sure you’d been with women before. That excited her, and she heard her own soft trembling exhales through her parted lips as she observed the hesitant look in your eyes, anticipating her next move.

You were still nervous, Wanda could tell.

So young and hesitant and innocent and polite…

All she felt then and there was that she needed your hands on her, and Wanda stepped forward again, kissing you with immediate heated passion as her hands ran up to the sides of your face, caressing you gently.

Your hands came to her hips and you attempted to wrap your arms around her waist until Wanda stumbled forwards, pushing you into the back room where it was more spacious.

“Mmm, Y/N…” she sighed into your open mouth, pushing your lower back against one of the counters in the back room.

Your hands were on her hips, slowly rounding to her lower back, but it was still not enough. She took hold of your wrist and brought your hand to her breast, and you squeezed as if partial to the feeling of how soft her breast was in your hand, mindful of the way her body arched into yours, her body pressed against your hips.

She felt herself throbbing when your other hand found its way beneath her dress, groping her ass and even tucking two fingers past her underwear to feel the soft, pliable flesh beneath the fabric.

“Ms Maximoff, is this okay?” you asked, your words trembling for how you spoke them between heated kisses. The hesitant tone spoken with your soft voice juxtaposed the way you groped her ass, and Wanda felt like she was already practically nearing orgasm.

“That’s just fine, sweetheart,” she replied, her fingers snaking down your jawline to hold your head in place as she tipped her head to the side and deepened the kiss.

Your fingernails pressed into her ass and she gasped, her body tensing momentarily.

Your tongues briefly brushed against each other and at the sensation, Wanda couldn’t get enough. She ran the tip of her tongue over your teeth then delved past your lips.

Warm exhales and breathy sighs echoed between your open mouths, meshed together in the exchange of saliva as your thumb tugged down the neckline of Wanda’s dress along with her bra so you could thumb at her hardened nipple, your other hand taking another handful of her ass.

Wanda had never felt more sexually desired, your hands on her body making her feel that you were thoroughly exploring her out of deep interest and pulsing arousal.

It was no obligation or passive act.

It was desire and craving, and you wanted her.

Then she felt the urge to have her mouth on your cunt, to feel you pulsating around her tongue, to feel your warm, slick folds against her lips. She wanted to taste how wet she made you and how badly you wanted her, to swallow your cum and have your flavour spread across her tongue.

She’d never pleasured another woman before, but all she felt was hunger, so much of it that it was painful, and that desire surpassed any need for prior knowledge.

In a few moments your thighs were wrapped securely around her head, Wanda on her knees beneath you as she noisily ate you out. The intermingled noises of her moans and the sound of your soaking pussy made your heart race.

She was far messier and dominating than you’d initially imagined, and you could hardly catch your breath. Each moment you thought you’d caught up, she’d want more, grabbing at you, delving her tongue into your opening or rubbing her flattened tongue against your aching clit.

She gripped at your hips, pulling you down onto her face so desperately you worried you might hurt her.

She opened her eyes and you saw her meet your gaze behind the mess of her dirty blonde hair, and you reached down and carefully brushed strands of her hair away from her forehead, revealing green eyes darkened by carnal desire.

The way she stared at you sent chills up your spine, causing you to roll your hips forward and bump your clit against the tip of her nose. She looked wildly predatorial, her relentless tongue and hot breath paired with a melody of deep groans and light girlish moans almost animalistic.

Wanda saw your hand reach down, fingers twitching in hesitation, before she interlaced her fingers with yours and brought your hand to the back of her head. She felt very literally… hungry — she craved you.

You nudged her mouth against your cunt and Wanda mewled in pleasure, feeling caressed as if she were being pet. Her hair was smooth, and feeling it now, you found she truly had thick hair and it wasn’t just the way she styled it in the mornings.

There were a lot of things you were newly finding about Wanda, new ways of viewing and understanding her that would make her different from how you had understood her before.

You’d never be able to see her without knowing how she looked on her knees, eating your pussy in her shop in the early evening, never being able to unfeel how her hands were firm and confident as they rubbed your thighs and squeezed your hips. But her fingers were delicate and careful, likely from her profession handling flowers.

You knew her touch.

Wanda knew exactly when you came — she felt it first before she heard it with how your thighs were wrapped around her ears. She could feel you contract and begin to pulse against her tongue, felt the way your hips chased her mouth and how your hands grasped at her desperately. She knew you had reached your peak because it reminded her so much of herself, and she helped you through your orgasm and through its aftershocks as she had for herself during the times she had come to the thought of you.

She carefully licked around your cunt and your inner thighs, cleaning you up as she blindly felt for your pants and underwear before sliding it back up your thighs while you caught your breath above.

When she buttoned your pants you helped her stand up and you adjusted her dress for her. Wanda leaned flush against your body with a little smile, watching your face as you straightened her dress, feeling your gentle hands rub against her.

Then you met her eyes and wrapped your arms around her waist, returning a smile.

She leaned forward and kissed you chastly, just feeling your soft, warm lips against her own, one of your hands moving up her back and rubbing softly.

“Was I good…?” Wanda asked a little nervously as she pulled away and looked at you. The tip of her nose brushed against yours lightly.

You nodded.

“It felt amazing…” you answered honestly, your fingers making shapes against her lower back through her dress. “I think, also, that I’m really attracted to you.”

Wanda laughed, feeling her cheeks heat up, and she buried her face in your neck.

After a moment, she added shyly, “That was my first time.”

Shocked, you turned your head a little to look at her but Wanda kept her face hidden in the crook of your neck and in the curtain of your soft hair.

“I couldn’t tell,” you told her.

“Are you being sarcastic…?” Wanda asked, looking down to play with the ends of your hair. “I can’t see your face.”

“I’m not being sarcastic.”

Wanda blushed, uttering a small ‘Thank you’ before she raised her head, fidgeting with your shirt a little.

“Shall I drive you back home now…?” she asked, looking up hesitantly.

You swallowed, feeling an ache of disappointment and longing at the thought of ending the night without getting to talk with Wanda more or even make her feel good. But if that had been her first time, she’d already done quite a bit.

You didn’t want to push her further or pressure her, so you nodded once silently in spite of how badly you wanted to be able to touch her too.

During the drive back, Wanda felt a dull ache behind her exhilaration, forcing her to admit that she was still not entirely satisfied. She’d underestimated the significance behind how much she fantasised about you, and how much desire truly went behind how strongly and how often she thought of you.

She nervously tapped against the steering wheel with her index finger and she bit down on her bottom lip.

“Was that…” She swallowed and carefully picked out the right words as she saw you turn to look at her from the corner of her eye. “Were you looking for… just a one-time thing…?”

Wanda couldn’t stop herself from turning and looking at your expression when there was perhaps a millisecond’s worth of silence after her question.

You felt a weight drop in your stomach and your fingers pressed against the flower vase sitting in your lap.

How would you come off if Wanda had been looking for something casual and you told her you weren’t? You would look childish and naive and disrespectful of her busy life.

You considered lying or perhaps answering nonchalantly, but tonight was the first time she’d ever gone down on another woman, and you felt you owed her honesty.

And… after all, it was still Wanda. She wasn’t someone to be scared of.

As Wanda turned into the neighbourhood, you answered, “I want to be closer to you than that. I don’t think I would want something like that to be a one-time thing.”

Wanda took in a sharp inhale when her chest tightened and filled with adrenaline, and she squeezed her hands around her steering wheel. She pulled into her driveway and parked the car.

Worried about the silence that would come over the both of you if she turned the car off, Wanda kept the car running as she ran her hands down her thighs as she gathered her confidence to speak again.

She turned to you and felt her heart pounding against her chest, threatening to suffocate her, when you turned to meet her eyes.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked directly.

Wanda’s hands laid in fists atop her lap as she regarded you, her posture straight and her shoulders rising and falling in tiny rhythmic motions as she steadied her breathing. From the dim lighting of her driveway from the light above her garage, you could see her eyebrows very slightly furrowed and her eyes gleaming with a nervous vulnerability, her expression patient and waiting for your answer.

You nodded once.

You stuttered when you tried to speak, then tried a second time, uttering a tiny, “Yes, I’d like that.”

The motions of following behind Wanda as she walked up her porch and unlocked the front door were mechanical and you watched her from behind, wishing desperately to know what was running through her mind.

There was a soft warm light coming from the living room that grew slowly brighter when the front door was closed behind you and your eyes adjusted to the gentle lighting of her house. This was the first time you’d ever been inside.

You looked around at the decor and the evidence of Tommy and Billy’s presence that remained even when they were with their father — their shoes were put away on a rack, some of their schoolwork on the small table by the front door, and their jackets hung on the coat rack.

“Are you thirsty or hungry for anything?” Wanda asked, evidently a little nervous.

You saw her take a breath and hold it when you set the vase down on the table where she had placed her keys to hold her hand. “I want to be with you, Ms Maximoff,” you said sincerely.

She swallowed and squeezed your hand and gave a little nod.

“I want to be with you too,” she replied, a little smile coming onto her face when you seemed to respond positively to her answer. She led you upstairs and you walked up beside her for how nervous she still seemed, and so you wanted to be close with her rather than following behind.

Wanda closed the bedroom door behind her and with the bedroom curtains left open enough to have the room illuminated by the evening, none of you turned any other lights on. She turned around to face you once she came to her bed, and her hands nervously came to the waistband of your pants, fidgeting a little.

“Are you nervous…?” you asked her quietly, stepping closer so her hands were caught between your bodies.

She looked up and nodded silently.

Then she said, her voice small, “What if I’m not good at this?”

You ached at her evident insecurity and unfamiliarity around being so vulnerable.

Your hand reached up to brush her hair back and you kissed her temple and murmured, “Not good at what?”

“At… this — making you feel good and being close with you, and connecting with you. I’ve never felt…” Wanda’s breath trembled and she swallowed.

She took a little breath.

“I really like you, Y/N,” she explained, her gaze falling to your shoulder and your body pressed flush against hers. “I want to be good at this…”

“No,” you protested softly and pulled your head back to look at her. “That’s not really how it works, Ms Maximoff…”

She explored your soft gaze, curious about what you would say but also caught up in how kind and patient your eyes were.

“You don’t really know how to do these things,” you reassured softly, “you just feel it.”

Wanda has always known what to do with things, and if she didn’t, there was someone who did know. Her marriage was all about expectation and filling roles as parents and as spouses, and her life, more or less, was about living through a planned schedule, doing things in order to be good at them and doing them right.

Was it okay to mess up?

Was it okay for her to do something just because she wanted to? She’d never been well-acquainted with the feeling of wanting something for herself to begin with.

“Can you call me by my first name?’” Wanda asked.

You nodded and smiled at the humour of her request.

She smiled in return and blushed before stepping back and allowing her hands some room to begin taking your clothes off.

You laid Wanda onto her back once her dress slipped from her shoulders, revealing her smooth skin and the contours and curves of her body.

Wanda felt extraordinarily sensitive to your every touch, unable to take her eyes away from the way your hands moved across her skin; it wasn’t enough to just feel the way your palms glided across her sides, your thumbs pressing into the contours of her obliques as you kissed down to her belly button, then her thighs, her calves, and her ankles when you bent her legs slightly moving back up her body — she had to see it too.

“Can I take your bra off?” you asked, looking up at her.

Wanda nodded and guided your hands to her back where her bra strap was, her back arching from the bed to allow you some space. She felt a surge of nerves course through her stomach when you took her bra off.

It had been so long since she was intimate with anyone, and even longer since she was with someone she felt engaged with, but it was the first time she was with someone she was truly interested in and attracted to.

For the first time, with your eyes running over her naked body, Wanda felt insecure about herself in a way she hadn’t previously; she was much older than you, and she started thinking about the other girls you must’ve been with.

None of them had ever been married or had children, and Wanda suddenly felt a dread come over her, feeling that she and her body were less attractive because of her age and what she’d done that neither you nor your previous sexual partners had.

But in spite of her anxiety, what she worried about wasn’t indicative at all in the way you continued to kiss her and caress her.

Your lips wrapped around one of her nipples, your hand coming to massage her other breast, and Wanda’s head lolled to the side atop her pillow, overcome by the feeling of being ravished and spoiled.

Then you moved up and began kissing her neck, and if you bit her, you did it softly, taking just a little of her skin between your teeth and nipping softly. She laughed breathily when you tugged at her earlobe with your teeth.

She loved the feeling of your weight on her body — a physical, tangible reminder of your presence, symbolic of how she had surpassed the period of fantasy and yearning.

“Get on your back,” Wanda told you, running the tips of her fingers down the curve of your spine.

While you adjusted your position, Wanda sat up and leaned over the edge of the bed and rummaged somewhere you couldn’t see. She sat back up and laid beside you, a translucent purple dildo in her hand.

Heat immediately rose to your cheeks and you imagined Wanda rolling her hips into it, slowly slipping herself down, and moaning as she fucked the faux cock. You even dared to imagine she fantasised about you.

“Can I use this on you?” she asked, holding it up for you to survey the size.

The very sight of Wanda holding a dildo in her hand, asking you for your permission for her to fuck you with it, her green eyes curiously exploring your expression, her naked body pressed against yours so her breasts brushed against your upper arm…

You had to blink a few times to make sure you weren’t just dreaming it all up, napping on the couch of your place before heading out to the festival.

Wanda moved closer and kissed your cheek. “I can be gentle with you,” she reassured. “If that’s what you’re worried about…”

“I’m not worried.”

“Really?” she asked, teasing, lifting her head to meet your eyes. “You haven’t said yes yet.”

You immediately nodded, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Is that a yes?” Wanda pressed, feigning curiosity with furrowed eyebrows.

“Y-Yes,” you practically choked out, stunned at her sudden display of playfulness.

She leaned back to where she had reached down before and came back up with a bottle of lube. Placing the dildo between your hips, Wanda asked for you to lather it on, holding herself up beside you and kissing up your shoulder and neck as you pumped your hand around the faux cock.

“As much as you want,” she purred. “I want to make sure you feel comfortable.”

You shifted your positioning a little so Wanda could have a better range of motion. One of your legs was perched up and your legs were parted, and you were laying back against a pillow for just a little elevation.

“Tell me if it hurts or if I should slow down, okay?” Wanda asked, nudging the tip of her nose against your cheekbone softly. She was taken by the urge to take care of you, to keep her body as close to you as possible, to feel your bare flesh against her own.

She really did think you were so sweet and precious, and the urge to care for you came stronger than it ever had before.

She wanted to make you feel good.

“Is this feeling okay, Y/N?” she asked, her other hand rubbing up and down your upper arm.

Your eyes were shut, allowing you to fully take in the scent of Wanda’s laundry and her hair and her perfume. The soft sounds of her little moans and noises as she made careful efforts to enter and tease you sent chills up your spine and made you throb.

“Th-That feels really good, M–”

You corrected yourself: “Wanda.”

A little flutter resounded in your chest at the feeling of calling her by her first name — it felt so personal.

“That’s good, Y/N,” she cooed softly. “You’ve nearly taken half. It’s a big stretch, huh…?” You hesitated to nod; it was a big stretch, but it wasn’t too much, and you didn’t want Wanda to stop.

“But you’re a big girl, right…?” she asked, and you immediately opened your eyes at her wording and the soft coo of her voice.

“I- Yes, I… I am.”

You watched as Wanda took her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes running down your body as her wrist curled and twisted back and forth, each time slowly pressing further into you. Her forearm muscle flexed with each movement and you could hear her breaths begin to quicken.

“Can I confess something a little embarrassing…?” Wanda spoke after a few moments of intimate silence, and you looked up from her forearm to her face.

When you met her eyes with patient curiosity, she continued. “I’ve pleasured myself to the thought of you many times, but I’ve never used this,” she told you. “I suppose I couldn’t imagine you in its place. It feels far more fitting to hold it.”

Heat rose to your cheeks and your breath hitched.

Wanda’s eyebrows raised and you felt a slightly forceful thrust, causing you to whimper. “Did you like hearing about that? I pulled out just a little and you’ve made quite the mess around it…”

The way her eyes scrutinised you, the focus in her expression, made you feel like she was observing you in great detail, feeling that her interest was sincerely piqued as much as she was aroused.

Then, with one more thrust, you felt the coolness of Wanda’s fingers pressed against your warm folds, and you knew she was entirely in.

“Does that feel good, Y/N?” she asked, settling herself more comfortably beside you so she was sitting up, your head lying in the crook of her neck. Her arm was wrapped around your head with her elbow keeping her up, her hand stroking your head softly.

You felt like you were struggling to get words out with the size of Wanda’s cock inside of you, along with the gentle and tantalising way she entered and pulled out. She was practically cradling you against her as she maintained steady motion, and you felt as if you were being babied.

“Th-That feels really good…” you mumbled.

“Oh, I’m so glad, sweetheart…” She began petting the side of your head and you mewled.

You watched through hooded eyes Wanda’s focused expression as she continued her soft thrusts, the positioning of your bodies making the act look almost masturbatory with how your bodies laid together, meshed.

“I had a feeling this would be the pace you preferred, Y/N,” Wanda said, her voice a soft mumble, her voice now sounding raspy with how low she was speaking. “If I’m honest… I thought a lot about what kinds of things you might like… I always enjoyed thinking that you were a careful lover, and shy…”

Even though she spoke at a hushed volume, you could hear her soft laboured breaths from her stern efforts to keep her arm at a steady pace, and often you looked down to see her forearm muscles flex subtly beneath her smooth pale skin.

“I thought about that all the time,” she confessed, a little moan passing her lips as the recollection. “I thought about how… polite and delicate you were, and your sweet smile and how kind you were to me. I thought that must mean you were quite accommodating in the bedroom, but I just wasn’t able to allow my mind to wander that far, thinking about what you might be able to do for me. I just kept thinking about what you’d let me do, and that soft little blush on your cheeks…”

She looked up at you and met your eyes. Hers crinkled at the sides when she looked over your expression, and when she smiled, the faint hints of dimples on either side of her smile made your heart skip about a dozen beats.

“The kind of blush you have right now…” she whispered.

“I wish you could see how you look,” she added, and you could feel her speeding her thrusts up, a new desperation in her efforts as you felt her move closer to you. Her hips knocked against the side of your thigh and her hardened nipples grazed against your upper arm.

Her breathing became laboured, and you felt yourself in a trance just looking into Wanda’s eyes, feeling pressure steadily build between your thighs she quickened her pace.

It was almost a little embarrassing hearing how wet you were, listening to how you stretched open each time Wanda thrusted her cock into you, and how you sounded when she pulled out, your tiny moans and whimpers building, seemingly encouraging Wanda to speed up.

“You look so cute, looking up at me, just waiting on what I’ll do or what I’ll say,” she said. “Do you feel cared for, baby…?”

Slender fingers brushed your hair out of your face.

“Y-Yes, I-”

Wanda interrupted you — not that you would’ve had anything very substantial to say anyways with how you started to speak and stutter without really knowing what you were going to say. “I knew it was wrong, fantasising about someone so young… But I couldn’t help it…”

She moaned softly and you could see her rub her thighs together just below your eye line.

Your eyes were beginning to flutter shut, for you were feeling the pressure in your lower stomach begin to coil, and you felt yourself tightening around the faux cock, suddenly sensitive to every noise and brush of Wanda’s hair against your skin.

Her arm unwrapped from around your head and Wanda suddenly leaned her head down and wrapped her lips around one of your nipples, causing you to moan out at the feeling of her warm tongue flicking over you, her teeth gently nipping at you before switching to the other.

“You’re doing such a good job, honey,” she reassured, trailing her kisses up to your neck and beginning to run her warm tongue up your skin. “So close, aren’t you?”

You nodded, trying to respond with intelligible words but only getting so far as a little whimper of affirmation.

From beyond distracted hooded eyes, your eyes flickered between Wanda’s fafe and her soft breasts, still pressed warm against your upper arm.

“You’ve gotten so wet,” Wanda purred, biting at the corner of your jaw. “My fingers are slipping from around the base; I have to keep readjusting my grip. It doesn’t help that you’re so tight…”

“If I had a cock of my own, baby, I’d have you on your knees, bent over with your face in the pillows…” she mumbled against your ear. “You’d be so tight and warm around me… You don’t know how wet it makes me to think about fucking a young thing like you… Hearing your little sounds and your pleas…”

Your eyes squeezed shut and you reached out to take hold of her hip. “W-Wanda, I’m-”

She moved her other hand down and interlaced your fingers.

“Come for me, Y/N,” she cooed.

Wanda was entirely captivated seeing you come, feeling the resistance around her dildo as your walls squeezed around it, your body arching from the bed while you cried out squeezed her hand. You came on the very bed and sheets she had to the thought of you countless times before, but the way you came was different.

It was more delicate than hers — from what she could recall from her own self-perception — your moans fluttery and broken into tiny whimpers, your body combed over with tiny tremors and involuntary twitches.

"That's a good girl," she whispered against your temple as you came, her other hand squeezing and stroking your shoulder. "Just like that, honey..."

She was careful when she pulled out of you, and couldn’t help but bring the dildo up to her lips and clean some of your mess off of it with her lips and tongue. Then she set it down somewhere on the bed and moved down to be able to wrap her arms around you, bringing your head against her chest.

Her arm that wrapped around the underside of your head stroked the side of your temple while she kissed your forehead, her other arm wrapped around your torso, rubbing your side soothingly.

After a while of Wanda rubbing your hip and your stomach, your upper arm, and anywhere she could reach while kissing your face gently, you caught your breath and cuddled close to her.

“I really do like you, Y/N,” Wanda said after the moments of silence. She pulled away a little to be able to look at your face in its entirety, and she smiled down at you softly. “I think you’re very kind, and very sweet. It’s really been a long time since anyone thought or cared as much about me as you do.”

Then she added, a bit shamefully, “I know it just sounds selfish, but over the last while since you moved here, I’ve been thinking of you quite a bit. And I was always very nervous to pursue anything, or even allow myself to feel anything like this for you.”

You didn’t want to speak up and interrupt her, especially since she seemed a little nervous confessing her feelings.

“Not only was it my first time regarding someone of your age in the way that I had begun to, but I think there were just a lot of things I was used to that I had to try to unlearn, and find confidence in diverging from.”

Then she looked away from your eyes and began fiddling with her fingers. Sensing her nerves, you squeezed her hand softly and rubbed your thumb against the back of her hand. Though she didn’t look back at you, she acknowledged your gesture and squeezed back.

“And there was also my age…” she hesitantly mentioned. “I felt… insecure, and unsure of myself, being how old I am and not knowing what to do. I felt… late to everything I was feeling for the first time, and thought that everything I was feeling was some desperate fantasy.”

Hesitantly, she met your eyes again, and looked relieved when you were already looking at her.

“You have no idea how good and happy it makes me feel that you’re sincerely interested in me…” she told you, a tiny shy smile spreading on her face. “I’ve never felt this way before, even with Vision… and I feel really lucky to be able to be with you like this.”

A realisation suddenly came over you hearing Wanda’s confession — did she really think it was all luck? You had been so shy about everything that you had failed to tell Wanda much of how you felt and how you saw her, and it wasn’t even your first time with a woman.

“I mean… it wasn’t really luck,” you said, fidgeting a little with her fingers, which Wanda thought was really cute. “I did ask to drive you home and visit you and work and… asked to see you this weekend.”

“Oh. That’s right, isn’t it?”

She looked like she had a moment of deep pondering as she looked off to the side. Then she looked down at you again and smiled.

“I guess I just didn’t really allow myself to accept the possibility that you were doing it all because of that,” she admitted bashfully.

You let go of her hand and brushed your fingers against her hip, drawing nervous shapes against her soft skin. “Can I touch you too, Wanda?” you requested.

For a moment, she looked surprised that you would even offer; her lips parted and she blinked, before closing her mouth and nodding slightly.

“What will you do?” she asked, curious and sounding a little insecure in a way that you couldn’t entirely understand.

The two of you shifted positions and Wanda laid on her back, looking up at you with eyes that made your chest ache. She looked vulnerable and almost a little anxious.

Being intimate with women wasn’t the same as being intimate with men — Wanda figured this quickly. It wasn’t the same kind of mutual pleasure, but rather, rooted in a kind of selflessness, a deep and involved desire to please the other without receiving explicit pleasure of one’s own.

Sex with Vision and any of the scarce intimate encounters she’d had since her divorce all seemed rather mechanical — it wasn’t so much about desire and interest as it was about fulfilling a role and doing what you knew you were expected to.

Vision hardly ever went down on Wanda, and she was never quite interested in asking him to nor was she interested in connecting with him in that way.

It wasn’t that she held any bitterness or negative reservations about him that confined their sex to duty or seeing it as an impulse of nature, as in having sex as one would eat when one was hungry, or sleep when one was tired.

It was more so that their marriage was not the kind to be seen as based on passion or desire; that hadn’t been how Wanda had seen him when they first met nor how he had seen her.

The idea that anyone could desire her to begin with, but moreover that one could desire her selflessly, whose justification was solely self-determined desire, made her anxious and uncertain.

It was, paradoxically, a selfish form of selflessness, where Wanda had only ever known duty and expectation.

“What you did for me before,” you told her, now settled between her thighs, on your knees. “Is that okay?”

Wanda nodded, looking at you. She adjusted herself a little, but you settled her by placing your hands on either side of her outer thighs.

You firstly moved up her body, making Wanda think that for a moment you changed your mind about all of what you’d said, but instead you started softly kissing her, laying your body flush against hers as Wanda’s legs parted before squeezing her thighs around your hips.

Her arms came to wrap around your torso. She stretched her fingers out so she could feel more of your skin, feel the way your back arched and curved as you kissed her lips, then her cheeks and then her neck.

“You’re beautiful…” you muttered, making Wanda open her eyes and turn her head a little to look at the way you had your face buried in her neck, your hair sprawled out a mess across her chest.

“Your skin is so smooth, and you’re so warm when you hold me,” you said.

All Wanda could do was whisper a small, “I like holding you, Y/N.”

You slowly descended back down, your palms running down her sides as if to hold the shape of her body and the frame that made it up in your hands, caressing her.

You massaged her breast, making Wanda loll her head to the side and let out a soft moan, her own hand coming to the back of your head and tightening her grip when your lips wrapped around her nipple.

Your tongue was soft and teasing over her hardened bud, and you sucked with a gentle force that wasn’t hesitant, but careful, treating her delicately.

Her hand stroked the back of your hand with her fingers, gently massaging your scalp and readjusting her hand’s position often to keep combing through your hair.

Moving further down, you pressed kisses to her stomach, beneath her breasts, down to her belly button, watching Wanda’s expression intently as you looked up at her.

She looked beautiful with her eyes fluttered shut, lips parted as she sighed and made little noises of pleasure.

You hoped she felt taken care of.

Your fingers began tugging at the waistband of her underwear and you looked up to her, expecting Wanda to feel a little hesitant, but instead she breathed out telling you to take them off, even reaching down and tugging at them.

Wanda’s heart raced when she felt your breath brush briefly against her pussy. A shudder ghosted across her skin and up her spine when your tongue flattened against her, pushing through her folds as your lips wrapped around her.

Her thighs squeezed around your head and she shut her eyes; the gentle curls and prods of your soft tongue set her on fire, and the way you rubbed at her thighs, squeezing gently, made goosebumps run up her skin.

She really was quite sensitive, for you could tell exactly how her body would react each time you dragged your tongue up her cunt, pressed against her clit, or secured your lips a little tighter around her.

You were gentle and intentional with how you ate her out, and Wanda could tell obviously that you certainly weren’t as inexperienced as she was.

When opened her eyes and looked down, she met your gaze and immediately felt that you were too far away, and she quickly came to prefer not to come without you much closer to her.

She loosened the grip of her thighs and reached down, her hand coming to the side of your head.

“I want you up here,” she said.

You couldn’t exactly hear what she said, but you could tell she wanted you to stop, so you lifted your head and Wanda guided you back up her body.

Quietly, you asked, “Are you okay?”

“I want you with me,” Wanda told you, wrapping an arm around your torso and pulling you close so your chest was flush against hers. Her other hand found your wrist and she led it down between her thighs.

You felt that you previously didn’t understand Wanda the way that you now did after being intimate with her. She was sensitive and a bit shy, and you hadn’t expected her to be so loving and attentive when it was your turn before.

There were things like the way she squeezed her arm around your torso when your fingers entered her, sighed into your chest, her head tucked under the crook of your neck, and took every opportunity to keep her body pressed against yours, that made you begin to reshape how you saw her.

You liked to hold her, to kiss the top of her head. You liked how she kept pulling you against her.

“Is this okay?” you asked.

She nodded quickly.

“Am I going too fast?”

Wanda shook her head.

She felt warm and tight around your fingers, and you were beginning to feel a sort of intimacy feeling the way she squeezed around you, and how she fluttered subtly when she moaned and arched her back to adjust herself.

“Say you want me, Y/N…” she whispered softly.

You lowered yourself to kiss her temple. “I want you, Wanda,” you said. ”You feel so good around my fingers. You’re so wet.”

She whimpered, eyes squeezing shut again as she lolled her head to the side to lay against your chest.

“You feel so warm,” you told her, lips brushing against her forehead. Her hand squeezed at your side. “I think you’re so pretty, and sensitive, and I want to take care of you. I want to make you feel good. I really… want to be with you.”

The words nearly made Wanda want to cry, and she lifted her head, meeting your lips in a gentle kiss. She’d never felt so much connection and longing for another person before.

It frightened her, at the back of her mind, feeling the way she began to cling at you. It was only you who she’d felt all this for, and she wasn’t sure what she’d do if suddenly none of this worked out. She felt an overwhelming sense of passion, felt it as it filled her chest and forced her to take big breaths to soothe the feeling.

You sped up, mostly curious to hear how wet she was, and Wanda yelped a little, her back arching and pressing her stomach against yours. Her knee bent and she parted her legs further.

You ran your eyes across her naked body, the way she was spread beneath you and clinging onto you, listened to her deep groans and little yelps and whimpers, watched her breasts rise and fall.

When Wanda came she was much quieter than you were. She hugged herself close and cried out into the crook of your neck, her sweet-smelling hair filling your nose. Her other hand grasped at your shoulder, and you paid close attention to how she pulsed around your fingers.

Suddenly her hand came down to wrap around your wrist, and she kept your fingers in place while her body shuddered with the aftermath of her orgasm.

Keeping your fingers deep inside of her and moving them not even a little let you feel her every movement while Wanda’s body slowly relaxed. She wanted to keep feeling you inside of her, just to feel that intimacy for a few moments more.

Then she nudged your hand away on account of how tired she was to speak, and you carefully pulled your fingers out of her.

As you looked at her beneath you and listened to her tired sighs and pants, you thought about how you’d seen Wanda as a woman on a platform for much of your time with her. Though you liked her and were attracted to her, you thought you’d always seen her and felt a little intimidated; she felt far away and greater, bigger, than your own life.

But now she seemed sensitive and delicate, panting, her chest rising and falling, her body coated with a sheen of sweat, her closed eyes fluttering gently. She looked incredibly vulnerable, and in this state it was far easier for you to tell that it truly had been her first time with a woman, and with anyone she felt very interested in or close to in a while.

You thought of her in more detail, your hand rubbing against her lower stomach, her own hand wrapped loosely around your bicep, her arm other around your waist.

Wanda had been married and divorced before, she had children and a business and years of her experienced life that you hadn’t yet lived. It still remained true that there were things you didn’t quite yet know about her, and things that would always indicate a difference in your ages and experience, and a general difference in how you lived your lives.

But in spite of all that, she had chosen to be here with you, and wanted you here with her.

At the moment her cheek was pressed against your chest, and she adjusted herself and guided you so you could wrap both your arms around her shoulders. She intertwined your legs with hers and tucked her head beneath your chin.

You wondered the kinds of things she must be thinking.

The truth was that you wouldn’t know unless you asked or she told you, but sometimes even that wouldn’t be able to capture exactly the way she might feel — when words and language couldn’t bridge the gap of Wanda being unable to word how she was experiencing a romance and an affection that she hadn’t ever before.

You thought a little about what Wanda said about her marriage before, and you wondered if you really made her feel seen and taken care of.

You felt her breathing in your arms, listened to her soft inhales and exhales, held her body, and were the only one she wanted to be with and share this time with.

“Can you sleep over, Y/N?” Wanda asked, lifting her head and meeting your eyes after adjusting her body to allow you to hold her more comfortably. She looked sleepy.

You laid onto your side fully so your head was on the same pillow as hers. “Do you want me to?” you asked.

She nodded. “Can you, please?”

“I’ll have to leave early in the morning since I live so far.”

A smile spread on her face and she nudged at your shoulder softly.

“I want to stay over,” you then told her seriously, kissing her forehead and eliciting a little sigh of pleasure from Wanda.

She said quietly, “I think I should get up and get ready for bed. I might still have a little makeup on.”

Before you could nod and ask if she had any clothes you could borrow, she sat up and looked at you. Her face was shadowed and her hair, now having lost the curl she had given it this afternoon, was a bit messy, and looked very soft.

You reached out to touch her hair, just to smooth some stray strands down, and make her face more visible. She tipped her face into your caresses, the back of your fingers brushing against her cheekbone.

While Wanda brushed her teeth and you were about to change into the pajamas she let you borrow, you suggested that you might shower together before bed. For most of the night there was minimal talking — not because you had nothing to talk about, but because both of you were far more occupied with just being together.

Wanda’s hair was nice to feel when you lathered shampoo into it, and her fingers were strong when she washed yours. Her lotion smelled like the tiny whiffs you sometimes got around her but were certain wasn’t her perfume — it was her lotion.

On the bathroom counter were her earrings she sometimes wore and her glasses, and her makeup and face wash and hairbrush.

You liked seeing everything, and you liked being able to touch her whenever you felt, feeling your arms around her waist and being able to kiss her face and her exposed shoulders.

“Do you think… you’ll regret doing this?” Wanda asked quietly after some moments of silence while you laid together, the tone of her voice trying to communicate a space for you to be open and truthful with her. “You can be honest. It’s okay.”

You immediately looked over to her. She was on her side, her hand tucked under her pillow as she looked at you. The blankets were pulled up to her chin, making her look tiny. “No, not at all,” you told her. “I really want to spend more time with you, and I really like you. I’m interested in you.”

Then you wiggled a little closer to her so your knees bumped against hers, making her laugh at how you moved yourself into her personal space.

She wiggled close too until your noses were all but touching, and you could tell Wanda was trying not to giggle.

“I want this,” you said. The serious tone of your voice sounded silly with how close you were to her face, and Wanda couldn’t hold herself back from laughing just a little.

“Okay,” Wanda replied with a determined little nod once she stopped laughing. She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the sides. “Good. So do I.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #elizabeth olsen

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imaginedisish · 4 months ago

Text

Close to You (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Oh my god. I got so carried away with this. It was not supposed to be this long. Anyway, here's the beach fic, y'all. This one is inspired by "Close to You" by Gracie Abrams...which is an absolute banger. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: The team goes away on a weekend beach trip, and your pining for Logan comes to a head when you're forced to share a room...

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!! Thigh riding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, soft!Logan, feelings, fluff, afab!reader/fem!reader, reader wears a bikini (no descriptions at all, though!), one bed trope (muahaha), friends to lovers, cursing, absolutely some grammatical errors bc this fic is so long, I think that's it!

Word Count: 6,577 this was so self indulgent

You step out onto the concrete and the salt in the air immediately coats your skin. The breeze is sticky and slightly humid, but it smells so good. You can hear the waves crashing against the sand, seagulls squawking above. Laughter on the boardwalk. Carnival music blaring from all the rides. It’s perfect—the sun is high, fluffy white clouds framing the endless blue sky.

“We’re going to have so much fun!” Jubilee cheers, closing the car door as she slides out of the Jeep.

Jean and Scott step out of their car, parked just up ahead, unloading their bags. “It’s so nice of the Professor to give us the weekend off!” Jean says excitedly, placing her bag down onto the sidewalk and wheeling it up to the porch of the house. “I can’t believe he rented this place for us.” It’s a yellow, two-story cottage with a lemonade porch, adorned with white shutters and a shingled roof.

Logan makes his way to the trunk of his Jeep, pulling out bag after bag. You rush to his side, reaching inside the trunk. “Let me help you,” you mumble as the rest of the team excitedly approaches the house.

Logan smiles and shakes his head, reaching for the same bag you are. His fingertips brush yours as he takes the bag away, your heart beating in your chest at the sudden contact. “Don’t worry, princess,” he huffs, smirking as he places the bag down in front of you. Heat rises to your chest at the nickname. “Don’t lift a finger. Go inside and check out the place.” He nods his head towards the front door and grabs another bag.

You smile, throwing your backpack over your shoulder, grabbing two bags, and carrying them to the front door in protest. “Gonna help you anyway,” you say over your shoulder. Logan chuckles as he closes the truck, grabbing the rest of the duffle bags and following behind you.

He meets your side as you walk through the doors. The walls are pale blue, and the bottom halves are lined with white shiplap. Beechwood covers the floors. The living room is light and airy, white curtains floating through opened windows. The kitchen is off to the side, and to the back is a large open sunroom. Just straight ahead are the stairs.

Jean and Scott settle some groceries on the counter as Jubilee, Kurt, Rogue, and Gambit head upstairs to see the bedrooms.

“Hey, guys?” Jubilee calls from upstairs. You can tell by the sound of her voice that something is off. “I thought the Professor said there’d be six beds.”

Jean puts away a bag of chips and steps back into the living room, following Jubilee’s voice up the steps, and disappearing as her feet hit the landing. “How many are there?” She asks, her voice muffled.

“Five,” Jubilee answers. “Three queens and two bunk beds, and Kurt and I took the bunks already.”

“That’s fine,” Jean says, shrugging her shoulders as she heads back downstairs. “We’ll all just be a little tight—closer quarters than usual.”

And that’s when it finally hits you. Three queen beds—and Kurt and Jubilee took the twin bunks.

You’ll be sharing a room with Logan.

You turn to him and find that his eyes are already on you. “You okay sharing, princess?” He asks, nodding to the steps.

You swallow harshly, trying to mask your nervousness, hoping Logan can’t hear the way your heart beats out of your chest. “Yeah!” You say, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Totally fine with it.”

He nods, smiling softly as he walks towards the steps, his bags in his hands. You follow behind him, the wood stairs creaking with every step you take.

Jean was not exaggerating; the upstairs of the house is extremely small. There may be four bedrooms—but bedroom is a generous title. Each room is only large enough to hold a queen bed, a single dresser, and a small nightstand on either side of the bed. There’s little to no walking room. One of the rooms—Kurt and Jubilee’s—has just a bunk bed and a nightstand, with a tiny wardrobe in the corner. In the center of the tight hallway is a bathroom with a simple sink, toilet, and a stand-up shower.

Logan steps into the first bedroom to the left of the stairs and puts his bags down on the ground. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asks, watching as you put your bags down next to his. “I can sleep on the couch if you’re uncomfortable.”

You shake your head, walking over to the window and taking in the view of the ocean. “Don’t worry,” you say, watching kids run across the sand, trying to distract yourself from how close Logan is to you in this tiny room. “We’re adults.” You turn to face him, fighting the urge to let your eyes trail up and down his body. “We can share.” Or at least, you hope you can.

You can handle this for a weekend. You can force down your feelings—can ignore your massive crush on Logan for seventy-two hours. That’s all this is. A weekend trip. This is doable. You’ve been through so much worse than this.

“If you change your mind, you can let me know,” Logan says, reaching his arm out towards your shoulder. His knuckles brush against your bare skin, and you let yourself lean into his touch. He’s warm, solid, cozy—

“Let’s go to the beach!” Jubilee interrupts, Logan’s hand falling from your shoulder instantly. “We didn’t come here to sit in a house all weekend, did we?” She jumps away from the door and runs down the stairs.

“Kid has a point,” Logan says, shrugging his shoulders and nodding towards the door. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling widely. “Already have my bathing suit on.” Logan smiles back and grabs your wrist, tugging you into the hallway, down the stairs, and out the door.

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You’re sitting on the beach, watching as Jubilee and Kurt splash each other recklessly in the water. Jean sits in a chair, reading a book, while Scott lays on a beach towel, eyes likely closed behind his glasses. Rogue and Gambit walk down the shoreline, hand in hand.

Logan stands up from the beach blanket you share, tugging his beater up and over his head. “I’m going in,” he says, just to you. “Wanna come?” He reaches out his hand again, the same hand that tugged you the whole way here. You bite your lip, nerves building in your stomach again. “Come on,” Logan says, smirking. “I don’t bite.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, and you take his hand, standing up. You let go and tug your shorts down your legs. You look up at Logan as your fingertips find the hem of your tank top, his eyes trained firmly on you. Your stomach somersaults as you pull your shirt up your body, revealing your bikini top, knowing Logan is watching.

Logan’s throat bobs as he swallows. He nods towards the ocean, wordlessly grabbing your hand again and tugging you along.

The waves lap at your ankles, and you force yourself into the cold water. Logan seemingly has no problem at all, pulling you along from a few feet ahead. The water is already up to his hips. He looks behind at you, all wide-eyed and happy.

“You’re not afraid, are you?” He teases, squeezing your hand tighter. Your heart drums against your ribcage at the feeling. He’s never held your hand like this. You try to shove down your feelings, to brush away how having him this close makes you feel, but nothing changes. You want him all the same.

You take a deep breath and shake your head as the cold water barrels against the middle of your thighs. “No,” you protest. “I’m just freezing.”

Logan smiles wider. “You gotta get all the way in!” He tugs you further, pulling you closer to him so that you’re shoulder to shoulder. You can’t tell if it’s the icy waves or your proximity to Logan that makes your heart freeze in your chest, that makes you crave the warmth of his body. You want to be close to him. You want him to pull you into his chest and hold you.

“Do I have to?” You ask playfully, a half-smile turning up at the corner of your mouth.

He jokingly rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he says, dropping your hand and wrapping his arm around your waist instead. “I’ve got you,” he whispers. You choke on your own breath as he guides you further into the water. “You okay?” He asks.

“I’m fine,” you mumble, his fingertips pressing against the bare skin of your stomach. Goosebumps pebble your flesh. Finally, Logan guides you all the way into the water, up to your shoulders. It’s a surprisingly calm day—the waves easy and gentle.

Logan lets go of your waist and treads water, slipping underneath the dark blue current and coming back up—his hair wet, drops of water dripping down his face and neck. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips at the sight.

“Your turn,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes half shut as he swims towards you.

Your smile drops as you swim away. Logan grabs your ankle, pulling you towards him. You yelp as he tugs you closer. You turn around and splash him playfully, freeing yourself from his grasp as he wipes the salt water off his face.

You laugh, still backing away from Logan. He creeps forward, assessing you like an animal stalks its prey. “You’re not getting away that easy, pretty girl,” he huffs.

What was that? Your eyes widen as those last two words repeat in your head. You’re so distracted that you don’t notice him closing the gap between the two of you. Suddenly his hands are on your hips, dragging you into his chest.

His grip is like iron around your waist, keeping you in place, your hips pressed to his, your chests touching lightly. You don’t feel the coldness of the water anymore—you can’t feel anything except Logan.

“What am I gonna do with you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy. The world stopped long ago, his arms wrapping around your back now, pulling you closer. The playfulness of the moment disappears—this is something else, something more serious. Logan brings his face closer to yours, his lips just centimeters away. This is it, you think to yourself. The moment when everything finally changes—

“Hey!” A familiar voice calls from the beach. Logan’s eyes fall closed—an almost defeated look painting across his face. Your head whips to the sand, and the team is standing by the beach chairs. Jubilee waves you and Logan over. “We’re going to the boardwalk! Come on!”

Logan opens his eyes. You think he’s going to push you away, to let you go, but he only holds you tighter. “Give us a second!” He shouts, frustration clear in his voice.

But Jubilee crosses her arms against her chest. Scott chuckles and walks ahead with Jean. Gambit and Rogue look at each other knowingly, and Kurt teleports to the edge of the water.

“And just like that…” Logan murmurs, half to himself, half to you. “Moment ruined.”

You tilt your head, the implication of his words wracking your brain. “What do you mean—”

But Logan is pulling you along with him to the shore before you can finish asking for clarification. His arms drop from your waist, his hand grabbing yours to guide you onto the sand. He bends down, picking up your shorts and top from the beach blanket the team left out, and passing them to you.

“Thanks,” you mumble, your hands parting as he shoves his beater up and over his head. Once you’re dressed, flip-flops and all, you join the team and make your way up to the boardwalk.

Gambit is talking with Logan about something just ahead, trailing on and on, clearly irritating Logan, while Rogue falls back to walk with you.

“So,” she says softly, her eyes flitting between you and Logan. “What’s going on there, sugar?” She asks, smirking.

You furrow your brows, trying to hide your smile. “Nothing that I know of,” you say, somewhat honestly. This might be nothing—might just be a friend teasing another friend. A friend whose lips were just inches from yours, so close that you could feel his breath fanning across your face. A friend who dug his fingers into your waist to pull you closer to his—

“Nothing, huh?” She asks, snapping you back to reality. “Because I think he would’ve kissed you if Jubilee didn’t interrupt,” she whispers so only you can hear.

Heat rises to your chest at her words. “I don’t know. We’re just friends…” You trail off.

“We’ll see about that, sugar,” Rogue says, walking ahead, tearing Gambit away from Logan. Logan’s shoulders visibly relax once Gambit is gone, and he looks back at you, slowing his steps so that you can meet his side.

“Hi,” he husks, smiling down at you.

You smile back, the warmth of his hand suddenly spreading across your lower back. It’s gentle, the ghost of a touch, almost not quite there—more tentative than in the ocean when it felt like no one was watching. But it’s solid and centering all the same.

“Let’s go on the Ferris wheel!” Jubilee suggests, holding out the ticket booklet that Jean and Scott ran ahead to buy. She tears out tickets—three for each person. Jean and Scott hold hands and walk to the front of the line. Rogue leans over to Jubilee, whispering something into her ear that makes her eyes widen. She nods and pairs off with Kurt. Rogue turns around and winks at you while Logan isn’t looking.

You look up at him and see that he’s staring off at the sun slowly setting. Pink, orange, and red erupt in the sky, the colors blending, painting across the wispy clouds. “Looks like it’s just you and me,” you say as the others climb into the Ferris wheel gondolas in pairs.

Logan smirks, his eyes finding yours as you approach the front of the line. “Looks like it, pretty girl,” he husks. There it is again. Pretty girl. The ride attendant slows down the wheel, and you and Logan slip inside the gondola. You think maybe he’ll sit across from you, but he sits next to you instead.

The attendant closes the door of the gondola, and the ride starts up. Once you’re off the ground, Logan slips his arm around your shoulder, his palm warm against your bare skin. “This okay?” He asks, his lips at the shell of your ear.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, your breath catching in your throat as his thumb brushes gentle circles into your arm. You let your head rest in the crook of his neck, and he leans against you, fitting together like puzzle pieces.

It’s silent communication—knowing, but not saying. You can feel his intention as his arm tugs you closer, his lips at the crown of your head. Your heart beats out of your chest—for the millionth time today—and you know he can hear it.

You reach the top of the Ferris wheel and look out at the ocean, the sun hitting the water, turning the blue waves to gold. “It’s beautiful,” you mumble, the current rippling against the shore, glistening vibrantly like the ocean figured out alchemy.

Logan chuckles softly. “I can think of something prettier, you know,” he husks, his lips still pressed into the crown of your head. Your heart thumps in your chest at his words. You lift your head, looking up at him.

His eyes meet yours, a soft smile playing upon his lips. “Logan, I—”

But the gondola comes to a sudden stop, and the door to the car swings open. You’re already back on the ground. The attendant crosses his arms, waiting for you and Logan to get out. Logan rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand and helping you back onto the boardwalk. The team is already off the ride, waiting for the two of you at the exit.

“Why don’t we play some games and then head back to the house for the night?” Scott suggests, his arm wrapped around Jean’s waist.

Jubilee smiles widely. “Yes! I wanna play the game where you throw the lobster into the pot!”

“Gambit’s gonna win chere a prize,” Gambit drawls, tugging Rogue into his chest. “The biggest one Gambit can find.” Rogue giggles, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Jubilee and Kurt run off to the other side of the boardwalk, immediately finding the lobster-pot game. Jean and Scott follow behind, making sure they don’t get into trouble. Rogue and Gambit go out on their own, heading toward the ring toss game.

You and Logan are left alone. Again. Surely everyone is doing this on purpose. “What do you wanna play?” You ask, nodding towards the array of games lined up on the opposite side of the boardwalk.

His eyes meet yours, flitting down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. “Whatever you want, darlin’.” You smile, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards balloon darts.

You approach the booth, and Logan pulls out his wallet, handing a five-dollar bill to the woman running the game. She slides a cup of five darts towards you and Logan, and steps off to the side, away from the balloons. Logan watches as you grab a dart and throw, completely missing the balloon you were aiming for. You groan, rolling your eyes, and grab another dart.

“Here,” Logan rasps, standing behind you. He holds your hand in his, lining the dart up to a balloon. His other arm wraps around your waist, the front of his hips pressing into your back. “Like this,” he murmurs, pulling your hand back. You let go of the dart when he thrusts forward. The dart pierces a balloon, the pop echoing through the booth.

You look up at him, his face close to yours, and smile. He grabs another dart, his eyes still focused on you, and throws without looking away, popping another balloon. “Now you’re just showing off,” you say teasingly as your smile grows wider. He grabs another dart, aiming at a bigger balloon this time, and pierces it with ease.

“Gotta win you a prize, pretty girl,” he says, grabbing the last dart from the cup, and tossing it across the booth, directly into the biggest balloon on the board. It pops—of course—and the game attendant’s jaw drops.

She shakes her head, walking over to the bigger prizes. “Never seen anyone do that before…” she trails off, pointing to the giant plushies. “You can pick any of these.”

Logan’s arm sneakily wraps around your waist as he waits for you to pick between a giant fox, panda, or dolphin. “The fox, definitely the fox,” you decide.

The attendant grabs the fox and pulls it down, handing it to you. You squeeze it to your chest, Logan’s grip on your waist tightening. “He’s so cute!” You giggle, looking up at Logan, who’s guiding you towards the edge of the boardwalk. “Thank you,” you say softly.

He shakes his head and looks out towards the water. “It was nothing,” he says, his arm still around your waist as you lean against the railing of the boardwalk. The sun is falling behind the horizon, stars rising in the sky.

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he turns to face you. “Listen…” He starts, his jaw working as his grip on your waist falls away, his forearms bracing on the railing. Your shoulder presses against his, the tension between you palpable. “I’ve been thinking…” But he pauses again, his eyes searching yours.

“We ready to head back to the house?” Scott asks, interrupting the conversation. Logan’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and he leans forward.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Logan mutters, thinking you can’t hear him, resting his head against the railing.

Jubilee grabs your arm, holding up her little stuffed teddy bear. “Look what I won!” Her smile drops when she sees your giant fox. “Oh my god, my bear is nothing compared to that! That thing is massive!”

You smirk, glancing over at Logan. “Wouldn’t have gotten it if it wasn’t for him.” Logan lifts his head and smiles sheepishly at you.

The moon rises high in the quickly darkening sky. You’re not quite sure where the day went. Everything happened so quickly—the hours spent on the sand, Logan tugging you into the water. It was perfect. Beyond perfect. And now it was time to head back.

The team treks down the boardwalk and onto the street, trailing a few blocks before arriving back at the house. You and Logan walk shoulder to shoulder the whole way there, leading at the front of the group. Logan grabs the key from his pocket, unlocks the door, and you all head inside.

Jubilee and Kurt run into the kitchen scavenging for snacks. Gambit and Rogue crash onto the living room couch.

“We’re gonna head to bed,” Scott says, Jean following him up the stairs. “Night, guys.” Everyone mutters soft goodnights in response, and a comfortable silence falls upon the house.

“Gonna steal the upstairs shower before they get to it,” you whisper to Logan, nodding to Jubilee and Kurt.

He smirks. “I’ll shower down here,” he says back. “See you upstairs?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you answer, suddenly remembering that you’re sharing not just a room with Logan, but a bed. You walk away and head upstairs, grabbing your pajamas from your duffle bag and making your way to the bathroom.

You turn on the water and undress. The shower is warm and relaxing, releasing the tension you had spent the entire day holding in. But the peace is temporary—your thoughts drift off to Logan. You imagine him sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, waiting for you to join him. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, and you try to ignore the heat growing at the bottom of your belly. Maybe you should’ve taken a cold shower instead.

You finish up in the shower, turning the water off and grabbing a towel. You reach for your pajamas, only to realize you forgot your bottoms and your bra. You step into your panties and shrug your oversized band t-shirt over your head. You push the bathroom door open just a crack, and seeing no one in the hallway, you make a break for it, tip-toeing to your room. You slip inside and shut the door.

Logan coughs from behind you, and you whip around. “S-sorry,” he stutters, standing up from the edge of the bed. He’s shirtless, just like you imagined he’d be, wearing only a pair of boxers. His hair is still damp from his shower. “I didn’t mean to—”

You cut him off. “No, no,” you assure. “It’s totally fine.” You’re worried you sound too eager, too focused on making sure he stays. You clear your throat nervously, stepping towards your duffle bag. You lean down, hoping your t-shirt is still covering your ass as you rifle through your belongings. You groan when you finally realize you forgot to pack pajama shorts. You stand up and make your way around to the left side of the bed.

“Everything okay?” Logan asks, following suit and walking to the right side of the bed.

“Yeah,” you say. “I, um…” You trail off, motioning towards your duffle bag. “I forgot pajama bottoms,” you finally spit out. “If you’re uncomfortable or—”

“No,” Logan cuts you off this time. “I’m not uncomfortable at all.”

You smile, climbing into the bed and slipping under the covers, and Logan does the same. He rolls onto his side and turns off the lamp—the only light on in the room. The space is engulfed in darkness save for the pale light of the moon pushing through the curtains.

You take a deep breath; you’re more nervous than you can comprehend. You could simply turn away from Logan, but you’re too anxious to move. Your stomach somersaults as his knee brushes against your thigh. You force your eyes shut, your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

“I can hear your heartbeat, you know,” Logan mumbles into the dark room, shuffling under the covers. “You okay?”

You swallow harshly, humming a soft mhm, too distracted to form a complete sentence.

“I know you aren’t telling the truth, pretty girl,” Logan whispers, his hand finding your waist. “I can sleep on the couch, if you—”

“No,” you protest, the words escaping your lips almost uncontrollably. “It’s f-fine,” you stammer. “I’m fine.”

He chuckles darkly. “Then what’s got you so worked up, huh?” Oh. He knows. He has to know. You can hear it in his voice.

“N-nothing,” you lie, your eyes fluttering open. Logan is closer to you now, his fingertips trailing down to your thighs, to the hem of your shirt.

“Relax,” Logan husks, his hand slipping back up your body and settling on your waist. He tugs you closer to him. “This okay?” He asks, and you hum a quiet yes. You can feel the tension thickening, feel it readying to snap. He breaks the silence. “Thought about this all day, you know.”

Your eyes widen at the confession. “Th-this?” You ask, your legs tangling with his.

“Being alone with you,” Logan rasps. Your shirt hikes up as he pulls you into his chest. “Wanted to get you alone earlier,” he says, his hand sliding back down your body, playing with the hem of your shirt before slipping underneath. His fingertips drag along your stomach.

You curse under your breath, Logan’s forehead pressing against yours. “Logan,” you whisper, his name the only thing you can think of. You’re sure he can smell the arousal building between your thighs.

“There’s no going back from this. You know that, don’t you?” He whispers, his breath hot against your lips. He’s so close, his thigh pushing between your legs, bumping against your core.

“Yes,” you sigh. “Don’t wanna go back.”

Your eyes flutter closed, overwhelmed by how close Logan is to you. “Good,” he breathes. “Because you have no idea how much I need you.”

His lips crash against yours, his thigh dragging along your core. You moan into his mouth, his tongue swiping across your lower lip. You part your lips, inviting him inside, his tongue tasting yours.

“Logan,” you whine, involuntarily bucking your hips, grinding down on his thigh. “N-need you too.”

“I know, beautiful,” he soothes, gripping your waist, rolling you onto your back, pushing you into the mattress. “Fucking thought about you all day, always thinking about you.” He slides your shirt up above your tits, drinking you in with his eyes. “Wanted you for so long, pretty girl.” He hovers over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand explores your body.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he palms your left breast, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and then doing the same to the other side. It’s dizzying having him this close. You can smell his body wash—notes of musk and pine and a hint of leather on his skin.

“Please,” you beg, not quite sure what you’re even begging for. All you know is how badly you want him—need him.

Logan buries his face into the crook of your neck as his thumb rolls over your nipple, biting down on your pulse point and sucking the sensitive skin between his lips. “Please what, darlin’?” He mumbles, continuing his assault on your neck.

“F-fuck,” you whimper, your hips rocking against Logan’s. “W-want you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? That what you want?” Logan teases, his hand pushing between your legs, his fingertips finding your clit through your panties. “What if I wanted to taste you first?”

“W-whatever you want,” you moan, grinding down onto his hand. “I’m yours.”

He lifts his head from your neck and presses his forehead to yours. “Whatever I want?” His voice is thick, cocky, almost mocking. “You’re mine,” he husks, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, then to your jaw, your neck. “All fucking mine.” He crawls down your body, trailing kisses down the valley of your breasts, your stomach, stopping just above the hem of your panties.

Your hips lift off the mattress as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, and he tugs them down your legs, throwing them to the floor. He nestles between your thighs, his breath hot against your cunt. You tremble in anticipation, watching as he breathes you in, his jaw working. You can see in his eyes that he’s holding himself back.

“Are you sure you want this, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice suddenly soft, his cockiness replaced by genuine care. "Not gonna be able to stop once I start.” But you know he doesn’t just mean in the moment, right now—he means forever.

“I’m sure, Lo,” you whine. It comes out like a prayer, like a desperate cry, a guilty plea.

And then he buries his face into your heat, his tongue swiping through your folds. He grunts against you, flicking your clit before stroking his tongue through your folds again. “Fuck,” Logan groans, his face pressing harder into you, his tongue exploring your cunt. “Tastes better than I ever imagined,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his voice pulsing against your core. “So fucking sweet.”

Your hips jolt away from him as his tongue laps at your sensitive clit. His palms quickly slide under your legs, wrapping around your thighs, yanking you back to his face, and holding you down onto the mattress. “Don’t move, princess,” he chides, his nails digging into your flesh. “Wanna eat this pretty pussy.”

“L-Lo,” you stutter as his tongue draws tight, rapid circles around your clit. You’re already close, his teasing words enough to push you over the edge. But you know he’s nowhere near done—he’s only getting started.

His right hand loosens its grip around your thigh, his nails dragging down the curve of your ass and towards your folds. His fingertips prod your slit, spreading your slick. “So fucking wet for me, pretty girl,” he praises, his lips wrapping around your clit, his teeth grazing the bud lightly as he sucks. “Want my fingers?” He asks, knowing your answer, but wanting to hear you beg for him.

“Yes, Logan, please. Need—”

He’s thrusting two long, thick fingers deep inside you before you can finish your sentence. “Fuck,” he whispers, pulling out and pumping back in—down to his knuckles. He stills inside you, letting you adjust to him. “So goddamn tight.” His tongue laps at your clit. “Gonna have to work you open for me, hm?” He mutters, thrusting in and out now.

You’re so overwhelmed, your swollen clit already overstimulated. He wraps his lips around your clit again, sucking harder this time, his fingers unrelenting as they plunge deeper with every pump. His tongue draws long, hard strokes around your bud, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

It feels like a wildfire is spreading through your veins, a current dragging you under and holding you down. Warmth blossoms in your belly. “Doing so good for me, beautiful,” Logan praises, his fingers fucking into you. Your walls flutter around him at his words, sucking him in deeper. “Know you’re close, pretty girl.”

“Logan,” you moan, his tongue drawing those tight circles around your clit again. He’s adding more pressure, his fingers dragging along your walls, scissoring inside you, splitting you in two. “Please, need to come…” You trail off, your back arching off the mattress, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Come for me,” Logan demands, his voice dark and filled with lust. “Wanna know what it tastes like.” His tongue presses harder into your clit, his fingers rocking in and out of your entrance. “Wanna see that pretty face when you let go.”

And then the tension breaks, white-hot heat pouring freely from the bottom of your belly. Your vision goes blurry as Logan laps at your clit, his fingers still pumping in and out, working you through your high. You moan his name, pleasure ripping through your body in intense waves.

His pumps relax, his fingers stilling inside you before he finally pulls out. His face is still buried against your cunt, licking long stripes through your folds. He’s savoring the taste of your release, drinking every last drop you have to give. “Can’t get enough of you,” he husks. “Could do this forever.”

He licks one last long stripe through your folds before lifting his face from your cunt. He’s a mess—your release glistening on his chin, his hair disheveled, his boxers all wrinkled. Your heart beats in your chest at the sight. All this, just for you.

Logan crawls up your body, hovering over you again, lowering down onto his forearm. “Wanna fuck you, beautiful,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing to yours. “Wanna know what you feel like.” His hand slips between your legs, his fingertips finding your swollen clit and giving it a gentle pinch. Your hips buck against him at the sudden sensation.

“Wanna feel you too,” you whimper, your arms wrapping around his back. “Want you inside me, please.”

And then he’s tugging his boxers down his legs, his erection pressing against the inside of your thigh. You can’t see—but you can feel just how massive he is. His tip slides through your folds, spreading your arousal.

“You know how bad I need you?” Logan whispers, his lips finding yours. He bites your lower lip and kisses away the pain. “You know how long I’ve been thinking about this?” And then he sinks himself inside you, down to the hilt with one smooth, fluid thrust. “Thought about this every day since I met you.”

Your muscles release and contract at his words. His hips stall, letting you adjust to the size of him. You feel indescribably full. He’s splitting you open, stretching you out, claiming you as his. His hips pull back, his cock sliding out, and he plunges back in, somehow deeper this time.

“Th-thought about you too,” you stutter, already too fucked out to form a coherent thought. “Always wanted you.” Logan sets a reckless pace as his fingertips find your clit again, working long, languid strokes into the bud, teasing you, leading you on.

“You feel so perfect,” Logan praises, rocking into you, his cock dragging along your walls. “So fucking warm, so tight. Made for me.” His lips are on yours again, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting you, swallowing your moans. “Never gonna want anybody else, pretty girl.”

His hips snap against yours, his fingers circling your clit faster now. “Just want you, Lo,” you choke, the tension building at the bottom of your belly, a fire burning through your bones. “Only want you.”

“I know,” he whispers, his voice suddenly soft, contrasting with the way he pounds into you recklessly, hitting that sweet spot inside you with every pump of his cock. “It’s you, just you.” You can hear the emotion in his voice, the sincerity, the desperation, the aching longing.

Your chest heaves against his. He’s fucking you to get closer to you, to be as deep inside you as possible. This isn’t just sex—this isn’t just some tension that needs to be broken. It’s an invisible string keeping the two of you tied closely together. Maybe it was stitched by the Fates centuries ago, laid out carefully, a plan to be executed. Maybe everything that led you to this moment was always meant to be. Because here you are now, his lips soft and hungry against yours, his words tearing through your resolve, his cock buried deep inside you, searching for a way to get deeper. And all you can think is…

This is it. This is what people mean when they talk about love—that word that changes its meaning every time you say it. The word with a definition that always escapes you. You know what it means now.

“Logan, I’m gonna…” You trail off, that fire in your belly spreading through your body as he rams into you, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing along the walls of the tiny room. His fingers press harder into your clit, pinching softly, and then circling again.

His cock twitches inside you. “Me too, beautiful,” he hums, his pace growing sloppier, his cock throbbing again. “You’re so perfect,” he praises. “Love you so much, pretty girl.”

And then the tension snaps, electricity buzzing through your nerve endings, fire prickling your skin as you melt into him. “Love you too, Lo.” Your muscles contract and release, squeezing around him, coming undone.

Your walls clench around him again, and you know it’ll be the thing that pushes him over the edge. “Fuck, wanna come inside you,” he pants.

You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close. “Please,” you beg, and with one more thrust he’s painting your walls, filling you up and letting go.

You share one breath, panting, foreheads pressed together as Logan’s pumps slow, his cock stalling inside you. His fingers slip away from your clit, his arms reaching under your back as he carefully pulls out. You feel empty without him inside you.

“Y-you can stay inside, if you want,” you offer as Logan rolls you onto your side, pulling you into his chest.

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Is that what you want, pretty girl?” He asks, his lips pressing to your nose now.

“Yes,” you whisper. He swallows harshly as one of his hands slides down your body, hiking your leg up and over his hip. He lines his half-hard cock up with your entrance, his lips finding yours as he slides back in. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of being full of him again.

He groans as he bottoms out. “So fucking good,” he praises, his arms wrapping around your back again, tugging you into his chest.

You lay in comfortable silence, listening as Logan’s breathing becomes rhythmic. Your eyes grow heavy, and you bury your face into Logan’s chest. You can hear his heart beating.

“Love you,” he mumbles against the crown of your head. You can hear the sleepiness in his voice, the exhaustion.

“Love you too,” you whisper, your breathing matching his, like you’re no longer two separate people, but one.

He presses a kiss to your head. “So lucky I met you,” he huffs. You smile against him. “So lucky I finally figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” You ask, looking up at him.

He smiles down at you. “What love is supposed to feel like...” He trails off, and you watch as he chooses his next words. “What living is supposed to feel like.”

You can feel tears brimming in the corners of your eyes, and you do your best to blink them away. “Me too, Lo,” you whisper, pausing…

“Me too.”

tags: @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @fanfic-writing-barbie @pedrohoe04 @cosmiccandydreamer @movhoney @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @maniuplatour *as always, I'm so sorry if I forgot to tag you*

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leeechin · 3 months ago

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ཊ˃̵ ⑅ ཉ little lamb [sim jaeyun] 𓈒ིུ𖥨᩠ׄ݁

⋆ summary: you meet a man in the middle of the night, so charming and so alluring.. but something about this man seems so.. dangerous. ━╋ pairing: killer!jake x fem!reader. (horror au)

⌗ warnings: reader is very naive, jake is a murderer in this omg. blood, weapons such as a knife & crow bar, etc but not used on reader. horror and thriller au please read with caution. mdni. smut. pwp, inexperienced reader, dom!jake, size kink bcuz i can’t not write bigdick!jake agenda, dark jokes/humor (?), unprotected sex, oral (f&m rec), fingering, multiple positions (2 smut scenes lol), dacryphillia, car sex, motel room sex, rough sex. yandere jake (?), mention of god once, mentions of murder with descriptions.

word count: 6.3k

⪩⪨ lee’s note: i’ve never written something like this before so pls bare with me if it’s bad 😣 enjoy the halloween special :D ur thoughts are appreciated as always <3

★ find my other works here + post queue

“Don’t go wandering ‘round a time like this.” The police officer warns you. “I’d be very devastated to see another report of another young individual being murdered in the streets this late at night.” There had been a recent report of a murder happening to a student your age in town. Around a time like this, a lot of crimes occurred, and you couldn’t avoid it since it was local.. near you.

You insisted to your friends that you were ‘okay’ to get home by yourself after the gathering you had at a nearby club. Luckily, that officer caught you at the right time to warn you and escort you back home safely.

“I hope I don’t see you out this late when I’m patrollin’ the area again.” The officer speaks to you once at the entrance of your apartment. The area you lived in wasn’t too bad, with a locked and secured apartment building. But there were always crimes that occurred; robberies, stabbings, theft, etc. Murder was not a common thing on your street. Bidding you a good bye, you enter the code to get inside the apartment building.

As the elevator door opens, you lock eyes with a man holding a big black duffle bag, walking out of the building in a rush. He was beautiful. The way that man stood with confidence radiating all over his body, and that small smirk he threw at you when you scanned his figure. But the left side of his cheek had a scratch and mark with what is now dried blood. You wanted to know more about this man. You should’ve found his presence suspicious, but you dazedly ignored it. Your apartment was small where everybody on every floor level knew each other, and yet you’ve never seen this man before. That was a warning itself you once again ignored.

Following his path, but slowly, you see him walk into a dimly lighted alley. Seeing a slightly dented, dull colored white car, the man opens the trunk as you see this all unwinding as you get closer. You walk your steps lightly with curiosity plastered all over your face. He opens the trunk, and an item falls out of his bag, a blood covered silver metal crow bar. Your eyes widen, you can’t move. Or you don’t want to. You find yourself standing a good arms reach behind the man, your conscious screaming at you to ‘run run run!’ but all of that is ignored when the man turns to you, another smirk tugging on his face when he sees it’s you. “You know.. you shouldn’t be out here this late doll, especially when you’re wearing this cute little outfit with such a pretty face.” He speaks.

You don’t respond, instead your gaze is still fixed on the crow bar that was in his hand. He finds it amusing, by now, a normal person would’ve ran away. But you stand there, completely still. He doesn’t see fear in your eyes. You were entranced by him, a few seconds of eye contact and here you were; a dimly lighted alley with who knows what could happen to you, many things.

He decides to speak again, his eyes not hiding his predatory gaze and scan of your figure, deliberately checking you out.

“What brings your pretty face here this late of a night—?” Dropping the crow bar back into his duffle bag, zipping it up and closing his trunk. He wipes the blood on his face with the back of his hand, leaning against his trunk, hands going in the pocket of his jacket as he waits for you speak up with an answer. His smirk never leaves his face, chewing on a piece of mint gum obnoxiously.

“I don’t know.” You voice soft, eyes looking down at his worn out shoes. The man lets out a loud laugh, walking towards you, hands still in his pocket, as taller figure leans over you, looking at you as if he was gonna eat you up alive. “You shouldn’t be wandering around here so late at night. Any predator would’ve gotten you as their prey by now, little lamb.” You jump at his words a bit, riiight. You now remember the warning that cop gave to you, but you can’t help but say what comes out your mouth. “You don’t happen to be a murderer.. Do you—?"

Another loud laugh leaves the man’s mouth. No way you really just asked him a question like that. The answer was obviously yes. But he wouldn’t say that out loud, “Those were just props, doll. You would’ve been dead by now if I was a murderer.” You let out a sigh of relief. It was so sad to him at how easily you can believe lies.

No response from you once again, “The name’s Sim Jaeyun. Jake or Jaeyun, whatever you want pretty.” He winks at you, one hand moving out of his pocket, you don’t flinch or feel fear still. Allowing him to move strands of your hair behind your ear. You easily melt into the touch of this stranger man’s hand. “Jaeyun.” You repeat, the irises in his eyes darken at the way you said his name, hand moving to hold the side of your cheek.

“I’m Y/n.”, Introducing yourself, his hand moving away from you and going back in his pocket. Jaeyun wasn’t going to kill you.. He wanted you. “And what are you still doing here, Y/n?” Jaeyun’s voice deep and filled with fake curiosity. You don’t know what had gotten into you, you felt bold, you wanted to be out there more. “I want to get to know you..” Straightening yourself up, fixing your skirt that was slightly rising up. “Get to know me? Huh. How interesting..” Jaeyun chuckles again.

“Well I feel the same way too, sweetheart.” He adds on. You smile, so unknowing of all the things this man has done prior to now. “Why don’t I take you for a little drive —? I have a spot I’ve never shown anybody before.”

The word ‘No’ should’ve came out of your lips, but instead you quickly nodded, taking in his offer of being in his passengers seat.

“Is this spot in the middle of a forest..” Your voice fades as you notice how for the past five minutes, Jaeyun is driving down a dark path with nothing but trees. You thought you must’ve been the funniest person in the world, because with almost anything you said to Jaeyun, he would laugh at you. But it wasn’t that, it was the fact you were so gullible. “Trust me darlin’. We’re almost there.” He reassured you, a hand resting on your thigh.

Jaeyun wasn’t going to harm you. And that was a hidden promise he kept in his head to himself. He couldn’t stand the thought of there being a single scratch on you.

“So what is this spot, Jaeyun—?” Your eyes light up at the view of a huge field of grass by a small lake. Getting out of the passengers seat, you grab Jaeyun’s hand, walking along the grass, you were practically skipping. ��This place is somewhere I get all of my things done.” He replies to you. You fidget with the bottom hem of your skirt as you’re reminded of his black duffel bag and the crow bar with blood on it. It was as if he could read your mind, “Nothing’s bad going to happen to you , Y/n.” He brushes off your doubt, the way your name effortlessly rolled out of his lips made you feel weak in the knees.

He was right, you both just simply sat in the blades of grass that went on for miles, talking about yourselves, getting to know each other; “I’ve always wanted to someone this special place of mine.” Jaeyun’s face was happy with content, now that what he said has finally happening, relaxing his back flat on the grass.

Admiring the view of the lake, and the man himself, “It’s such a beautiful place here, Jaeyun..” There goes your soft voice again, and your eyes of adoration. Jaeyun felt like he could become a mad man by any minute now, he felt the desire to keep you close to him, and he wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon.

That’s how you found yourself straddling his lap on the drivers’ seat of his car. His lips devouring yours, claiming you as his. You whine against his lips when you feel one of his hands move down to cup at your clothed heat. You hear him let out a deep chuckle as he pulls his lips away, leaving you to feel confused.

Realization hits you like a truck. You were about to sleep with a man you barely know. Despite feeling a deep connection and attachment to Jaeyun, you don’t fully know who he is at all.. Or what he does, despite talking for a couple hours by on the field of grass. “Something on your mind?” Jaeyun hums, his lips trailing along the soft skin of your neck, harshly sucking and marking dark purples spots that can be seen by others.

“Wait Jaeyun—!” You pull yourself away from him. “Hm?” — “What if someone sees us?” Hesitation in your voice at the idea of that. It’s not like you a virgin by any means.. You just haven’t had sex many times. And especially not at a place where people could see you, even if Jaeyun’s windows were tinted. “Doll. Only murderers would be at a spot like this, late at night. But no one’s here. And it’s just you and me.” Jaeyun coos.

You felt weirdly comforted by his words. Easing into his touch, placing your lips over his, it’s much rougher this time, his tongue dances his way into your mouth, it was so sloppy as the smacking sounds filled Jaeyun’s car. “Want more Jaeyun..” You pant, the sound of Jaeyun ripping your panties apart filling your ears. Gasping as your arms wrap around his neck, falling forward slightly as he handles you to where he wants.

“You want me to show you what’s in my disgusting, twisted mind? To ruin you and keep you to myself? Because baby, once I do all that, you can’t leave me.” He warns you, allowing you to rethink your doubts. But you want it all. You don’t care that you’ve met this man a few hours ago, an unknown man in your highly secured apartment, and how it’s 2:37 am in the middle of the night. You wanted to do something for yourself for once, even if deep down, you knew there had to be more to Jaeyun, he doesn’t seem anything like a saint.

You nod rapidly, “Give it all to me Jaeyun. Show me your world.” Your response makes Jaeyun let out a deep laugh at how easy it was to convince you with his words. But, he wasn’t lying in anything he said, Jaeyun was going to make sure you stay by his side, forever. You were easy to read, you were the type of girl that had loyalty painted all over her face. You needed someone to lead you in life, Jaeyun was the perfect person to do that for you. He wouldn’t lay a single hand on you.

“Have you done something like this before?” Jaeyun raises an eyebrow at you, his cold digits tracing along your folds, collecting your wetness making your breath hitch at the contact. “Only a few times.. and not anywhere outside either.” You admit, eyes shying away from his. Jaeyun’s free hand pulls up your chin to look at him again, “Was he good—?” Jaeyun’s eyes darken at the thought of there being another man before him.

“Mmph—! No! Not really—!” You shriek to reply when you feel one of his fingers plunge into your tight cunt, the warmness of your gummy walls clamping around his singular digit making the cold leave his skin. “Can barely take one finger..” He comments, fingers finding a pace comfortable for you. He adds a second finger in, “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll show you what it feels like to be fucked reaaaal good you’ll forget about all of the other times and only remember me.” Emphasizing that one word.

“S’ so good Jaeyun!” You cry out, nails digging into his shirt covered shoulders, the pain giving pleasure to him. You feel him quicken his pace, his thick fingers dragging along your tight warm walls, already having your head spinning and seeing the clouds. “Taking it like such a good girl..” He smiles, feeling his bulge strain through the tight confinements of his boxers and jeans at the sounds that left your lips. You tighten around his digits impossibly tighter when his thumb finds its way to rub at your clit, a sensation you’ve never really experienced before, and you surely want to feel this again.

“Feels good huh—?” Jaeyun asks, a smirk ghosting over his face at the sight of tears rolling down your face. Nothing but pure pleasure coursing through your entire body, and he hasn’t even stuck his dick into you yet. “You’ll always be mine.” Possessiveness filling his tone as he scissors and twists his digits, a whimper leaving your lips at the feeling of pure ecstasy, burying your face into the crook of Jaeyun’s neck to conceal your sounds.

“Don’t hide those pretty sounds from me.” He growls, the free hand that placed on your waist moving to tug at your hair, pulling your face away from his neck. “M’ close Jaeyun please—!” You plead, rolling your hips slightly, feeling his fingertips hit right at that one spot so good.

“Let go for me, darlin’. Show me how good I make you feel.” That was a demand that you didn’t mind to follow; body shaking slightly as you calm from the intensity of your orgasm; body flopping against Jaeyun’s chest. Tapping the side of your exposed thigh, pulling your skirt up; “Don’t get all tired on me doll. I’m not done with you yet.” You sit up, pulling your shirt over your head to leave you only in your bra, tits spilling out of the cups.

Jaeyun curses at the sight, hand moving to the back of your bra, unhooking it effortlessly and tossing it to the passenger seat. “So fuckin’ perfect.” He comments, hands moving to fondle with your sensitive tits, thumbs rubbing roughly over the erected nubs, making you few new sensations, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted the real thing, the million dollar prize, his cock inside you.

It was as if he read your mind, his hands leave your tits, making you let out a needy whine with no more contact on your body. Jaeyun tsks at your desperation, hands unbuckling his belt and pulling down his boxers along his pants. You freeze in place, thick cock shiny in glory in the poorly dim lighted car. Pink mushroom tip throbbing angrily, precum oozing out and down along his length.

Jaeyun just really can’t help but laugh at you. He was a predator engrossed into his prey, the way your eyes had a slight sparkle from the moment you locked eyes with him, to now; Eyes blinking nervously at the sheer size of him. “You can take me, can’t you, doll—?” Jaeyun asks, noticing the subtle shift of your gaze, as you slowly nod.

He moves his arms to rest behind his head, leaning back on the drivers seat, giving you a glance to make a move. “Jaeyun..” — “What’s on your mind doll—?” You take a deep breath, hands resting on his chest, “I’ve never really done this..” You feel embarrassed again, but your eyes don’t leave Jaeyun’s this time. “I know, baby. I just wanted to see if you could do it yourself.” “Can’t do it without your help, Jaeyun.” You frown, hand moving down to grip at his thick length, your hand not being able to fully wrap around it. Jaeyun hisses at the contact. Moving his hands to move your loose strands of hair behind your ear, he places a soft kiss on your forehead, brushing the side of your face. “I got you, doll.”

Holding your hips to hover your sopping cunt directly over his mushroom tip, your hands holding onto his shoulders for dear life. His placement on your hips allows him to circle your entrance over his tip, collecting your wetness with dripping along his thick length. You look down, not sure if you’re gonna be actually able to take it.

“Oh shiiit—! You’re still so much fuckin’ tighter than what I thought.” A long groan leaves Jaeyun’s mouth as he slowly pumps his cock into you, you feel every ridge and vein rubbing against your silky walls, bottoming out eventually. Fresh batches of tears cloud your vision as you’ve never felt anything this big stuffed into you, and Jaeyun was definitely bigger than that ex of yours that went down on you in the past. “S’ so big.” You whimper out, burying your face into Jaeyun’s neck and moaning against his soft skin. You could feel his tip prodding so deep inside you along with the slow strokes he gave you.

The first few thrusts he gave you were soft and tender, but Jaeyun reminded himself that he wanted to ruin you, to show you what it’s like to actually feel good from him only. “Oh goddd—!” You moan out when Jaeyun thrusts his hips up harsher, feeling him in your stomach as a small bulge is poking through your gentle skin.

“I’m far from being god, doll.” Jaeyun smirks, knowing he could quite literally be the devil. “Scream my name. Who’s the one making you feel like this.” He grins at your disheveled figure, desperately holding onto his shoulders as if you’re afraid to crumble and break apart. You’ve never felt like this before, his hips pistoning in and out of you at such a animalistic pace, you’re not sure if you could last longer, and you didn’t want to embarrass yourself by cumming too quickly. Screams of you saying Jaeyun’s name rings in his ear, he is overly joyed with your state.

He handles you like a rag doll. Hands on your hips, pulling you and down along his thick length, a white ring forming on his cock as you cream and convulse around him, feeling your orgasm approaching soon. “You close, doll—?” He asks, teeth nipping one of your ears. A mantra of yes’ leaving your mouth along with your heavy pants as you pathetically attempt to move your hips to meet his movements. The sound of your soft shrieks along with Jaeyun’s harsh grunts filled the car.

His movements not stopping or changing as you allow the coil in your stomach to snap, coating his cock in your creamy white essence, sobs leaving your mouth as you ride out your orgasm.

“Hold it out a little longer f’me doll.” You dive headfirst into overstimulation, Jaeyun continuously bucking his hips up to chase his own orgasm, hips stilling as he shoots thick strings of his cum deep into you. Resting his forehead over yours as you both take a moment to catch your breath. “Did so good for me.” Jaeyun sighs, pulling you off of him, leaving you now empty.

Jaeyun helps you put your clothes back on, but you have no panties. You frown, feeling his cum drip down your thighs. “Are you on the pill—?” You nod yes. Jaeyun sighs in relief, he couldn’t hold himself back today, pulling you back in for a kiss, a string of saliva connecting to the two of you when he pulls away.

“Jaeyun. How am I going to go back to my apartment with no panties..” You did not want the other residents to see Jaeyun’s seed drooling down your legs.

“You just keep your legs closed.” He laughs, spinning the ruined piece of article around his finger.

A week has gone by. There’s a pattern you start to notice. You only saw Jaeyun as soon at it hits dark, the familiar car parking at the alley across your apartment building. You never see him during the daytime.. And you still don’t know a lot about him. You’re drawn to him like a magnet, your friends don’t understand you at all.

“It sounds suspicious Y/n, I don’t know. You only see him at night?” Belle tells you, sipping her drink. You and your small circle of friends constantly ignored the warnings on the news for young adults to avoid roaming the streets past 8:00pm. All of your figured since there were a couple guys in the group, you guys would be safe.

“You don’t understand.” That’s what you say everytime any of your friends would comment on whenever you talked about Jaeyun to them. You felt frustrated, but they were only looking out for you, and you didn’t realize that. “We care about you, Y/n. But, it’s just the fact you’ve never seen this man in broad daylight..” Sungchan says, carefully picking his choice of words.

You guys were wrapping up this gathering to go home. Julie suggests Sungchan to walk you home as there had been an increase of stabbing reports happening around your street, double of the usual numbers. You accept the offer, since after all, Sungchan was only a friend to you..

“Are you sure you don’t need me to go up with you..?” Sungchan double checks, there are no other people around the area, and the cops are making their rounds at the neighboring streets. You nod, because you knew that Jaeyun would be here around this time and he would be the one protecting you incase anything happened.

“Alright then.” Sungchan waves a goodbye, hands in his pockets as he walks across. You turn, away, pressing the security code to enter the building.

What was not known is that Jaeyun is watching from afar, his blood boiled to see another man so close to you. He felt a primitive instinct to do something.

Your ears ring when you hear a familiar shout so loud, as if that person was pleading for help, you’re quick to turn, the security code to the apartment only having half of the numbers entered. Your hand flies to cover your mouth in shock at the sight across you; watching your own friend slowly fall to the ground, a knife lodged straight into his heart, pushing through his chest.

Whoever wanted to kill him, was quick to do it. Because there were no traits, and Sungchan couldn’t have been the one to stab himself. But Jaeyun happened to walk out, and Jaeyun just happened to be taking off black latex gloves and a mask and scanning the surroundings around him, not even amused at the fact there was a now dead body near his feet. Jaeyun simply just brushes it off and grins widely when he sees you across the alley. It was clearly also him who did that to Sungchan, and possibly Mr. Han on the fourth level, who had been actively trying to pursue you. It wasn’t a coincidence.

Tears flowed past your eyes as you froze. You were nonverbal as you simply started to sob into the killer’s arm. And you still weren’t convinced that Jaeyun did it, though the facts were so obvious. “Shhhh. Luckily I came here just in time to be here for you, doll.”

“He just— He— What if he walked up with me..” You cried, tearing soaking onto Jaeyun’s shirt. “You can’t control what happens to people, doll. I’m lucky that nothing happened to you.” Jaeyun responds, a smirk creeping up inside of his head knowing that he has you wrapped around his finger.

“Why are we going out of town—?” You ask Jaeyun, looking out of the windows of his car a couple hours later. You packed a mini suitcase with some clothes as Jaeyun instructed, telling you he wanted to take you to a place to spend some ‘quality time’ for the weekend.

It should’ve been alarming to you that you guys were practically in the middle of nowhere. “Doesn’t it feel so suffocating to be in such a busy city, surrounded by so many people sometimes?” His hand that was resting on the top of your thighs dragging over. It was pitch black, the headlights of his car being the only thing lighting up the road. “It’s just.. I only see you when it’s late at night. How come you never come to see me during the daytime?” Jaeyun sighs, speeding up the car a bit, jaw clenching tightly. You notice the way his jaw loosens once he turns around to glance at you adoringly.

“I’m a busy man, doll. But I always make time for you, don’t I?” Lies continue to pour out of his mouth, yet you never caught onto any of them, simply abiding anything he initiates without questioning.

There’s a radio in the run down motel room. The building is so outdated, it’s quite baffling how such a beat down place is still running. You don’t mind how shabby it is.

'Unsolved Murders in Seoul that are believed to be connected to each other-' Jaeyun shuts off the radio.

“That’s ridiculous.” He laughs, walking towards your figure that was standing where the radio was playing. “You’re so pretty.” Jaeyun mumbles, watching as tears pulled at your eyes, the radio reminding you of how you witnessed your friend slowly dying, and you did nothing.

The image still played in your head, how the blood on his wound oozed out, his weak pleas for help. And all you did was stood there frozen until you saw Jaeyun.

“Still thinking about earlier?” Jaeyun asks, fingers swiping the tears that poured down your cheeks. He was fake sympathizing with you, he didn’t actually care that you lost one of your closest friends, because he was the one that did it, and you’re blatantly choosing right now, to ignore all of the obvious keys.

“What if instead, I called for help? He probably would still be alive right now. And that’s all my fault. ” You stammer, body jumping as you felt Jaeyun’s large hands roam around your body, grasping at your breast through the thin material of his oversized t-shirt you were going to wear to bed, eventually pulling it off your body. “It would’ve been you dead instead. And I wouldn’t want it to be that way. I love you.”

Love? You’ve barely known Jaeyun for a good two to three weeks and yet you feel your heart swirl at the use of that word. You were sure you felt the same way he did. He held a possessive nature you couldn’t quite get a grasp on, but he gave you what you wanted. You were weak to his actions, there was no way he wasn’t the one who killed Sungchan, or was at least suspicious.

“I love you too..” You whispered, lower lip get caught between your teeth when Jaeyun places his lips over the soft skin of your neck, arms wrapping around your waist from behind. “Let me make you feel better. Make you forget all that guilt you have in your head.” He mumbles.

Turning you around, you stand on your tip-toes to place your lips over his, Jaeyun hungrily gaining control and devouring your lips, tongue licking up into your mouth, tangling along with your tongue. You whine against his lips feeling him bite your lower lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but it was rough enough for a reaction.

“So needy.” He laughs, watching the way your hands traveled under his shirt, attempting to pull it off over his head. He pushes your shoulder down, indicating what he wants you to do. You feel so tainted at how quick you were to sink to your knees, eyes looking up awaiting.

He had the eyes of a killer, how his eyes turned so dark when he had someone in the control of his hands. “What are you waiting for? It’s not gonna get sucked by itself.” Pulling down his boxers, his hardened cock springs out, tip pink and leaking with arousal. He watched amused as your eyes trailed to his, then back to his large veiny cock. Carefully placing your soft lips to envelop the thick mushroom tip, nasty sucking sounds filling the room as you slowly push your head forward to take in more of him, choking when you feel his tip hit the back of your throat when your a little over halfway. Loud groans leave Jaeyun’s mouth, not hiding the pleasure from you.

“Just like that shit. Let me fuck that cute mouth of yours huh?” You whine around him, nodding in agreement. You were being used like a toy, Jaeyun’s hands placed on both sides of you face as he pushed his hips forward, chasing for his own pleasure and finding satisfaction in the way you just took anything he gave you.

“God I love how nasty you’ve become for me.” He laughs, pulling out briefly to glance at your ruined state. Your eyes red, full of tears. And one of your bra straps falling off your shoulders, along with your hair all messy from Jaeyun’s grip earlier. “Please Yunnie.” You plead, hands pawing his thighs for him to do something about your own arousal that was leaking through your panties.

The way that nickname flew out of your mouth and into his head made Jaeyun a possessed man, gesturing for you to open up your mouth again, you whine but obey. “Don’t worry, doll. I’ll give you everything you want after you let me fill up that little mouth of yours.” Slapping his heavy cock on your tongue before thrusting back deep into it, throwing his head back at the warmth of your mouth, and how you sucked his base perfectly.

“I’m gonna cum, fuckkk. Such a good girl.” Jaeyun praises, hips battering sloppily as you feel him twitch in your mouth, filling your throat deep with his release, his cum spilling out the sides of your mouth, Jaeyun brings his thumb to swipe at the cum spilling out the sides of your lips, pushing his thumb in for you to suck. Opening your mouth afterwards to show him you swallowed every drop he gave you. A smile of approval on Jaeyun’s face.

Hovering above you on the bed, your neck is littered in dark purple bruises, soft sighs of content leaving your lips when you feel your breast being freed from the confines of your bra, panties peeling off quickly from Jaeyun’s hand as he kneels to be eye level with your dripping cunt. “Please Jae..” You whimper, fingers lacing through his dark brown hair strands, massaging his head slightly as your hooded eyes looking below your spread legs. You didn’t wait for too long when you feel him lick a fat stripe from your entrance to your clit.

“mmmh—!” You mewl out, nails digging into Jaeyun’s head at your head throws back against the bed’s pillows. Your sounds along with the nastiness of Jaeyun’s tongue darting around your dripping cunt, almost burying his face against it, groaning at your sweet taste as he pushes his tongue past your entrance, the warmness of your walls wrapping around his tongue.

His groaning against your cunt sends vibrations and pleasure travelling all over your body, eyes closing as you try to contain your sounds with the thin walls of the run down motel, feeling Jaeyun’s tongue explore every part of your lower half. Your legs start to clamp around his head tightly, feeling how he held the bottom your thighs to keep your legs spread for him, all exposed.

It was as if he was a starved man, devouring you as if it was his last meal, relishing in your wails and cries of the sensations of his tongue along with the pleasurable pain of your nails digging into his head. You were close, and Jaeyun knew that, bye the way your thighs started to slightly shake around his head, the way your fingers tugged chunks of his hair as you tried to ground yourself as your body gives out, finishing all over his lower face.

Your face tints a soft shade of pink as Jaeyun rises up from his eye level position, your release painted all over his face, watching how he used his backhand to wipe it off and lick it, moaning at your sweet taste.

“You can take more of me right?” He asks as he peels off his remaining clothes, looking at the way you rapidly nodded your head, strings of pleas leaving your lips to feel him on you again. A small place is placed on your lips, tasting yourself against your tongue.

You feel yourself being flipped onto your front, the cold sheets sending shivers over your body as Jaeyun handles you to the position he wants, back arching and presenting your continuously dripping cunt, hole clenching around nothing as you feel his hands travel around your lower half, hands squeezing at the soft flesh of your ass, aligning himself to your entrance and pushing in roughly and fast. “Shiiit. Still so tight.” Jaeyun hisses, allowing you no time to adjust, already setting a rough pace that had him lodged in you deep.

“Jaeyun—! Slower!” You moan, the pleasure of his thick cock already making you feel another orgasm approaching, not wanting to pathetically cum too quickly. Feeling him push against the back of your head into the pillows, not listening to you as his pace fastens, tip hitting your cervix repeatedly as all you could is just lay and take it all.

“You’re enjoying this a little too much.” Jaeyun teases, feeling the way your walls clamped around his thickness with each stroke of his harsh thrusts, wet sounds of his cock repeatedly sliding in and out of you filling the room. Your push your own face harder into the pillows, trying to contain your sounds as Jaeyun’s relentless pace didn’t stop, even as you finished around him for the second time, going into overstimulation as his hips continuously smacked against your thighs.

“More Jaeyun.” You whisper, turning your head slightly, even though you deemed yourself done, a part of you still wanted to take more, feeling yourself being flipped onto your back. God, you were such a sight for Jaeyun. Your doe glossy eyes meeting his darkened irises, silently begging for him to stick his cock back in you.

“Hold your thighs up for me.” He tells you, guiding you to make that happen. You were nearly folded in half, your puffy pussy on display, hole pulsating and begging to suck Jaeyun back in. A loud moan that other guests probably heard leaves your lips as Jaeyun re-enters you, this new position making him hit deeper in your cunt.

“Shitshitshit—!” You cry out, trying to hold yourself up as Jaeyun wanted as he relentlessly jackhammered his cock into you over and over again. He lets out a string of low groans, along with your high-pitched moans, feeling how tight you clenched around him. “Feels good huh?” A smirk plastered on his face as he looks down at the way his cock slid in you so deep, keeping up with his rough and fast place, moving to place one of your legs over his shoulders. Your head lolled to the side, overwhelmed with pleasure seeping into your body.

“M’ gonna cum again ‘Yun.” You whimper, feeling his tip make a small bulge against your stomach as your palm presses down against it. “Hold or f’me a little doll.” He grits his teeth, thrusts becoming more sloppy as he’s only focused on chasing his own release. Holding your hips so tight, you were sure there would be marks by the time you woke up in the morning.

“Good fuckin’ doll.” Jaeyun sighs, thick strings of his cum filling you so deep, as he helps you ride out your orgasm, shuttering around his cock. Your eyes are giving out, feeling Jaeyun crash his body to the open space beside you on the mattress. The darkness in his eyes was gone, only full with what you saw as love and affection. He mumbled another promise to you that had your heart racing naively.

“I will always take care of you, doll. No matter what it takes, I will do anything for you.” And he genuinely meant what he said, even if it took such unorthodox ways to keep you by his side.

The news broadcast on the television plays, the sound of the water running in the bathroom as Jaeyun is taking a shower. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts, lazily standing close to the television as you’re eating breakfast from room service. You’re half paying attention to what the news anchor is saying. But then you pause when you hear Sungchan’s death being mentioned again.

More details are added on, along with blurred footage of Jaeyun’s figure from hours ago, in the exact outfit you ran into him wearing, his face is covered by the mask. But you knew it was him. You couldn’t be naive to this.

Jaeyun is a murderer. And you were on the run with a wanted man that you were in love with.

Your jaw opens, dropping the fork, and eventually the plate with your food, nothing bothering to clean the mess up as you watch the news explaining more detail. You felt so stupid, not even noticing Jaeyun’s presence in the room as you stood there lifelessly trying to process this ‘newfound’ news.

And for once as your eyes meet Jaeyun’s, they’re filled with fear. His pupils dark and filled with wickedness. A sly grin is plastered on his face as he stares at you.

“Well well well, the little lamb has finally realized she’s fallen into the arms of its predator.”

— @00kittenz @pshbites @selleprotection @p4ranormaluv @slutforjaeyun @jaeyunsbimbo @faithnsstuff

note: thank u so much for 460+ followers 🥹🥹!! i appreciate all the support you guys give on my posts 🤧🤧🫶🫶

#lee writes ! ‧₊˚ ୨ ୧ ˚₊#sim jaeyun smut #sim jaeyun x reader #jake sim x reader #jake sim smut #jake enhypen #enhypen smut #jake sim #jake sim hard hours #jake sim hard thoughts

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aerialmirrorss · 16 days ago

Text

𝐬 𝐥 𝐨 𝐰 𝐦 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ zach maclaren

playing: 𝟏𝟖 by one direction 𝜗𝜚˚｡˚ ⋆

synopsis! every winter break, you and your childhood best friend zach’s families plan the annual trip to your family’s cabin in the mountains. but when an accident happens, a guilt-ridden zach is willing to do whatever it takes to make you feel better.

paring: zach maclaren x fem!reader

warnings: childhood friends to lovers , zach accidentally hurts reader , mentions of bruising , angst , lots of fluff (zach is so hopelessly in love with you it hurts) , sexual content + unprotected sex! , fingering , mature , 18+ (minors dni!)

word count: 8.2k

notes: today’s post is a long one but bear w me pls i had to edit so much of it :(

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆

“can you grab the spare?” zach calls from the back of the range rover, tugging the luggage out of the trunk.

stepping out of the car, the icy air hits your face like a slap, the sudden chill turning your nose pink and making your cheeks tingle.

“fuck, it’s freezing,” you mutter under your breath, hurrying over to the pile of rocks near the cabin door. your fingers, already stiff and trembling from the cold, fumble as you dig through the stones, searching for the fake rock with the hidden spare key.

finally, you find it and unlock the door. you and zach waste no time rushing inside, flipping on the furnace and switching on the electric fireplace. warm air begins to spill into the room, cutting through the biting chill.

“jesus, it’s brutal out there,” zach says with a laugh, dropping the suitcases by the front door.

“i know,” you reply, rubbing your hands together for warmth. “i don’t get how our parents do it when they get here first.”

your gaze sweeps over the cabin, familiar and cozy even in its current state of disarray. a small smile creeps onto your face as memories flood back. by the time your family usually arrives, the maclarens have already set everything up—lights twinkling, garlands hung, the whole place transformed for the holidays.

but not this year. this year, you and zach got here first. being in college has made it easier for the two of you to make the trip, especially since it’s only a short drive from campus. with your parents tied up at work, they won’t arrive for another two days, leaving you and zach to settle in and prepare the cabin yourselves

zach seems to read your mind as he heads toward the storage closet under the staircase. “the moms mentioned something about the decorations being in here,” he says, pulling open the door.

he starts rummaging through the piles, expecting to find boxes labeled xmas. instead, his hand lands on a stack labeled snowboarding gear. a small smile tugs at his lips.

“guess the decorations can wait,” he says, pulling out the boxes. turning to you, he raises an eyebrow, and you meet his look with a knowing nod. “get dressed.”

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you glide across the flat, powdery snow after hopping off the ski lift. the cold air nips at your cheeks, leaving them rosy and warm beneath your baby pink goggles. when you finally stop at the edge of the slope, you tug the goggles up onto your helmet, panting softly as mist forms in the cold air.

zach approaches behind you, stopping at your side. you look up at him, your eyes bright with excitement. “hi,” you say, your breath still catching from the climb.

“hey,” he replies, chuckling softly, his voice warm and steady. he feels something tighten in his chest—your voice, your smile, the way you look at him. if only you knew how effortlessly you could bring him to his knees.

but he would never say it. not to you. not when it could risk the friendship you’ve built over years.

you’ve been inseparable since second grade, when zach worked up the courage to ask for your help mastering the monkey bars. you were the only one who could make it all the way across without falling, and he’d admired you ever since. now, here you are—still together, still tangled in a friendship that means everything, even if it sometimes feels like it could be so much more.

zach isn’t sure when his feelings for you started to shift, turning into something he couldn’t quite name but couldn’t ignore either. maybe it was that afternoon when he was twelve, bedridden with a nasty cold, and you showed up unannounced with a thermos of homemade chicken soup. the soup had been borderline inedible—too salty, with mushy noodles—but the gesture had warmed him in a way he’d never forget. of course, he’d eaten every last bite and told you it was perfect.

or maybe it was on his fifteenth birthday. he’d always treated his birthday like any other day, never one to make a big deal of it, but you didn’t see it that way. while he was out, you snuck into his room and filled it with many presents and blue and black balloons—his favorite colors. he’d walked in, startled by the effort you’d put in just to make him smile, and something about it stuck with him.

or maybe it was the night he ended things with his first long-term girlfriend at seventeen. her problem had been you—the closeness you and zach shared, the bond she couldn’t understand. she’d wanted him to choose, and it wasn’t even a question. when you found out, you didn’t say “i told you so” or press him for details. instead, you showed up with a bag of junk food and a stack of movies. you stayed the whole weekend, laughing, crying over sappy scenes, and talking until the early hours of the morning about your dreams and futures.

in every timeline, in every version of his life, zach knows he’d choose you. over a girlfriend, over a best friend, over anyone.

a soft click pulls zach from his thoughts. glancing down, he sees you already strapped to your snowboard, your goggles perched perfectly on your face. you reach up, offering your hand for help. with barely any effort, zach pulls you to your feet, earning a giggle that tugs at his chest more than he cares to admit.

“i don’t think i’ll ever get tired of this view,” you say softly, taking in the snow-draped mountains and the endless horizon of white and blue.

zach crouches down, fumbling slightly as he straps himself into his board. his fingers falter when he glances up at you. the way your smile glows as you take in the scenery—it’s more breathtaking to him than the view itself.

“yeah,” he murmurs, his voice quiet. “me either.”

you turn to him with a playful glint in your eye. “race you down?”

zach chuckles, shaking his head as he secures his last buckle. “no.”

you blink at him, brows furrowing. “why not?”

“because,” he says, standing and stretching, a smug grin tugging at his lips, “i’ll smoke you so fast it’ll almost be sad.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes at the playful jab, but the spark of competition ignites instantly. zach knows you well enough to see it too. before he can say another word, you tug your goggles down, lean forward, and launch yourself down the slope, your speed kicking up a flurry of snow in your wake.

“cheater!” zach yells after you, his voice echoing through the mountain air.

your laughter rings out, light and carefree, as you pull your face cover up to shield yourself from the biting cold. with a determined grin, zach pulls down his goggles and takes off after you, the race already on.

the descent starts smoothly, the rush of cold air whipping past your face as you carve through the snow, the thrill of the slope igniting your competitive streak. you glance over your shoulder, spotting zach gaining on you. he’s fast—faster than you expected—and his determined grin sends a surge of adrenaline through you.

you try to pick up speed, leaning into the next turn, but your edge catches an icy patch. it happens so quickly—a sharp jolt, your balance slipping, and suddenly, you’re tumbling. the world tilts, snow sprays into the air, and before you can even react, you collide with something solid.

or rather, someone.

zach.

the two of you go down in a tangled heap, his snowboard slicing awkwardly into the snow as he tries (and fails) to stop in time. his arms instinctively wrap around you as you both slide a few more feet before finally coming to a stop in a soft bank of powder.

for a moment, everything is still.

you blink up at him, stunned and breathless, your goggles slightly askew. zach’s face hovers inches above yours, his cheeks flushed—not just from the cold.

“you good?” he asks, his voice laced with concern, though his lips twitch into a small smile.

you can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the moment catching up to you. “yeah… i think so. you?”

he nods, chuckling now too. “well, i wasn’t planning on eating snow, but at least i cushioned your fall.”

you roll your eyes, shoving at his chest lightly as he helps you sit up. “cushioned my fall? you practically tackled me.”

“only because you fell first,” he counters, his grin widening.

despite the snow seeping into your clothes and the ache of your tumble, you find yourself laughing again. zach stands, brushing snow off himself before offering you his hand. as he pulls you up, you notice his gaze lingering just a little longer than usual, his smile softer now.

just as the rush of laughter and adrenaline starts to fade, a sharp, sudden pain slices through your side, stealing the breath from your lungs. you gasp, instinctively clutching your side. “ouch.”

zach’s smile vanishes, his brows knitting together in concern. “what? what’s wrong?”

“i don’t know, i—” another sharp pang makes you wince, doubling over slightly as you shuffle off to the side of the slope, out of the way of other snowboarders. your hands fumble to tug off your gloves, urgency overriding the cold.

you shove the gloves into zach’s hands without a word and begin unzipping your snow jacket, pulling up your thermal layer to investigate. you crane your neck to look, but the angle makes it impossible to see what’s wrong. the pain is sharp and unrelenting, leaving you wincing as you try to figure it out.

“can you see anything?” you ask, your voice tight.

but zach’s expression answers before he says a word. his eyes widen, his face draining of color as he steps closer, urgency in every movement.

“oh shit,” he mutters, already crouching down to get a better look.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆

“intercostal muscle strain,” the doctor says, her tone calm but firm as you sit up with a wince. “you’re very lucky—it could’ve been a fractured or broken rib, and that would’ve been far more painful than what you’re feeling now.”

you nod slowly, wincing again as you pull your clothes back down over your bare torso.

“it’s nothing serious, thankfully,” she continues, scribbling something onto a notepad. “but you’ll need to take it easy—no snowboarding for at least a week.”

you groan dramatically, throwing your arm over your eyes in exasperation, only to regret it instantly as the ache in your side flares. you hiss through your teeth, lowering your arm gingerly.

the doctor hides a small smile at your frustration. “get plenty of rest, and take two 500mg Tylenol every 4–6 hours to help with the pain,” she advises. “for the bruising, you can pick up some arnica gel or aloe vera at a pharmacy—it’ll help with the inflammation.”

zach, who’s been quietly standing at your side the whole time, finally speaks up. “so no snowboarding at all?”

“none,” the doctor confirms, looking at you pointedly.

zach lets out a quiet sigh of relief, grateful nothing was broken, though the guilt still gnaws at him. that tumble had cost you a week of your vacation, and the thought that he played a part in it made his chest ache.

his hand rests idly on the edge of your pillow, his mind clouded with regret, when he suddenly feels your fingers brush against his. his gaze shifts to yours, and he knows immediately that you’ve read him like a book.

the doctor steps out, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. she’s seen the unspoken bond between the two of you—something that everyone else seems to notice, even if you and zach haven’t admitted it to yourselves.

“i’m so sorry—” zach starts, his voice heavy with remorse, but you cut him off with a gentle shake of your head.

“it wasn’t your fault, zach,” you say firmly, your voice soft yet steady. your fingers trace small patterns on the back of his hand, grounding him. “there was no way to stop that fall from happening, or for you to avoid crashing into me. it was just… one of those things.”

zach looks down at your intertwined fingers, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

you smile, swinging your legs carefully over the edge of the bed to stand. “though i do wish you hadn’t elbowed me so hard in the process.”

your playful jab makes him groan, dropping his head into his hand. “you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“not a chance,” you tease, grinning as you test your balance on your feet.

his guilty expression softens into something lighter, his lips quirking into a small smile as he watches you. “fair enough,” he murmurs, his tone filled with a mix of relief and something deeper he doesn’t quite let himself say.

as per the doctor’s advice, you and zach stopped at a nearby pharmacy on the way back to the cabin, picking up some arnica gel for the swelling and a bottle of tylenol. zach had insisted on carrying everything, even as you rolled your eyes and tried to insist you were fine.

back at the cabin, he’d gone into full caretaker mode. now, you were nestled on the couch in your favorite pajamas, surrounded by fluffed pillows, a warm blanket, and fuzzy socks. zach had even turned on your favorite comfort show, leaving no detail overlooked.

in the kitchen, you could hear him speaking quietly with your parents on the phone. the tone of his voice was calm and reassuring, though you caught a few words here and there about “keeping an eye on her” and “following doctor’s orders.”

“yeah, I will. alright—yeah, sounds good, I’ll let her know. oh- okay. bye.”

zach ended the call, setting his phone down on the kitchen island before heading over to you with a water bottle, a couple of tylenol pills, and a snack bowl balanced in his hands. he plopped onto the couch next to you, a small laugh escaping as he handed you the items.

“let me guess,” you started, mockingly, “make sure she’s actually taking the pain meds and don’t let her go snowboarding no matter how much she begs.”

zach laughed, shaking his head. “pretty much. they’re just worried about you. it took a lot of convincing to stop them from dropping everything at work and driving straight to the hospital.”

you took the water bottle and pills, rolling your eyes as you scanned the label. “this is bullshit. i feel fine. it doesn’t even hurt that much anymore.”

zach raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “don’t lie. i can hear you cursing under your breath every time you move too fast.”

he twisted open the water bottle and popped open the tylenol, handing them back to you with an air of exaggerated patience.

“i can open my own stuff, you know,” you grumbled, though you took both from him.

“sure, you can,” he said, leaning back against the couch with a smirk. “but this way, i get to feel useful. so, humor me.”

you roll your eyes but oblige, popping the pills into your mouth and washing them down with a gulp of water. for the rest of the afternoon, you and zach fully embraced the art of laziness. you binged several episodes of your comfort show, made your way through the entire snack bowl, and eventually ordered pizza, which arrived just as the last crumbs of chips were devoured—all within four hours.

the warmth of the blanket, the soft hum of the TV, and the exhaustion from the day caught up with you. before you knew it, your eyes drifted shut, the drowsiness overpowering. when you woke, it was to the gentle sensation of zach’s fingers absentmindedly scratching your scalp, the rhythm soothing and familiar.

blinking groggily, you realized your head was resting on his chest. you froze for a split second, then relaxed as the memory of shifting there for comfort came back to you. his chest was sturdy, warm, and—well—perfectly positioned to avoid putting pressure on your sore side. at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“hi,” you croaked, voice raspy with sleep.

“hey,” zach replied softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. his hand paused in your hair briefly before he added, “you need to put the arnica gel on your bruise.”

you groaned in protest, burying your face further into his chest like a stubborn child. the vibration of his laugh rumbled beneath you, warm and familiar.

“c’mon,” he coaxed, leaning forward carefully so you weren’t jostled, reaching for the small container of arnica on the coffee table. his other arm stayed around you, steadying you as he sat back.

with a reluctant sigh, you pushed yourself off him, grumbling as you lifted your pajama shirt just enough to expose the bruised area. even with the pain dulled from the meds, the stretch made you wince, and you let the shirt drop again with a frustrated groan.

“can you help me put it on?” you asked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

zach hesitated for a beat, the question catching him off guard. you didn’t notice, but his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, the proximity and intimacy of the request making his pulse quicken.

“yeah, of course,” he said, his voice steady despite the way his heart raced. he unscrewed the lid, squeezing a small amount of the gel onto his fingers before looking at you. when you nodded, he shifted closer, his movements gentle and deliberate as he applied the gel to your side.

his touch was careful, almost hesitant, as if afraid of hurting you. “let me know if it stings,” he murmured, his voice quieter than usual.

“it’s fine,” you replied softly, your eyes closing again as the soothing coolness of the gel and his careful touch eased the ache.

zach’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he worked the now-warmed gel into your skin. the rhythmic motion of his fingers was steady, but inside, his composure was unraveling. there was something undeniably intimate about this moment—your quiet, fluttering reactions every time his fingers brushed a new spot, the way your breath hitched when he applied just the right amount of pressure.

his fingers moved instinctively, lifting your shirt a little higher to cover the edges of the bruise, and that’s when he saw it. the small, delicate tattoo just below the curve of your breast.

divine feminine.

the words seemed to stare back at him, burning into his mind as his breath hitched. he swallowed hard, his hand pausing briefly before continuing, slower this time. zach could feel his body reacting in ways he knew it shouldn’t. his chest tightened, and he bit down on his bottom lip, trying to keep himself grounded as warmth pooled low in his stomach.

then you let out a soft, unintentional moan—a mix of pain and relief as his fingers brushed over a particularly tender spot. the sound, quiet and fleeting, sent a chill through him. he froze, inhaling sharply, his hands momentarily still against your side.

your eyes fluttered open, hazy with the remnants of drowsiness. “i’m sorry,” zach murmured, his voice tight.

concern crosses your features as you began to sit up. “zach, it’s fine,” you said, misinterpreting his sudden apology. “it didn’t hurt. i promise.”

but that wasn’t it. not at all.

no, zach wasn’t thinking about the gel, the bruise, or even the fact that he might’ve applied too much pressure. his thoughts had plunged into dangerous territory, spiraling with images he couldn’t suppress.

he was imagining you making that sound again—but for entirely different reasons. how your breathless moans might sound against his ear as you writhed beneath him, your body arching into his as you begged for him to let you cum.

how you might look with your face pressed into the pillows, gripping the sheets, gasping his name in broken cries as he pounded relentlessly inside you from behind, squeezing tightly around him, his hands gripping your hips firmly but gently, guiding you to him.

zach blinked, forcing himself back to the present, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. he dragged a hand through his hair, quickly standing up and mumbling something about needing a drink of water, leaving you puzzled and slightly concerned as he practically fled to the kitchen.

you stood up, muttering a low curse under your breath as the ache in your side flared. despite the pain, you followed him into the kitchen, determined to figure out what was wrong.

“zach,” you called softly, your voice breaking the quiet. he didn’t turn, his back to you, shoulders tense as he stared down at the empty glass in his hands.

stepping closer, you positioned yourself in front of him, standing just beneath his gaze. even then, he refused to look at you, his jaw clenched tightly.

“zach,” you repeated, your fingers gently brushing against his cheek, cupping it to force his eyes to meet yours. the warmth of your touch was almost unbearable for him.

“don’t—” he mumbled, voice low and strained, his gaze flickering to the side as if avoiding yours could somehow mask the turmoil written all over his face.

but you saw it anyway—guilt. raw and unfiltered, pooling in his dark eyes and spilling over in the form of unshed tears.

“zach, what is it?” you asked, your voice soft, barely above a whisper in the still air.

he blinked hard, his breathing uneven as he struggled to hold himself together. the weight of his thoughts pressed heavily on his chest. you trusted him, leaned on him when you were in pain, and here he was, betraying that trust in the worst way—fantasizing about you.

the images haunted him. he couldn’t stop the shameful loop of memories from late nights in his dorm, where he would close his eyes and imagine you in ways he couldn’t admit aloud. he would picture you on top of him, trying to adjust to his size, your brows furrowed and lips parted in quiet gasps. how you might bite your lip to stifle your moans, only to collapse onto his chest when you came undone, breathless and trembling.

but those were just fantasies, fleeting and far removed from reality. they weren’t supposed to bleed into a moment like this—when you were hurt, vulnerable, and looking at him with those wide, concerned eyes.

he squeezed his eyes shut, his voice barely audible. “you were hurt because of me, and i—i can’t stop thinking about…” he trailed off, shaking his head as if trying to physically dispel the thoughts. “it’s not right. i’m not right.”

you frowned, your thumb brushing against his cheek in a soothing gesture. “zach, talk to me. what’s going on?”

he hesitated, his chest rising and falling as he wrestled with himself, unsure if he could say the words that would change everything.

“hey.” your voice was firm yet gentle, cutting through the silence. zach’s eyes opened, hesitantly meeting yours.

“it’s me,” you said, your tone softening. “you can tell me anything, zach. you know that.”

he chewed the inside of his cheek, his jaw tightening as he tried to muster the courage to speak. “i’m so sorry, y/n,” he began, voice heavy with guilt. “i feel awful about what happened today—about you getting hurt. and then you’re here, trusting me to help you, and i’m…” he trailed off, sighing deeply as he covered his eyes with his hand. “i’m trying so hard to control myself, and it’s not okay.”

your brows furrowed as you processed his words, trying to piece together what he meant. the hesitation in his voice, the way he avoided your gaze—it all felt so unlike him.

then, as your eyes flickered downward, you noticed it. the unmistakable bulge in the fabric of his sweats. your breath hitched in realization, a soft gasp escaping your lips before you could stop it.

zach’s hand remained firmly over his eyes, his posture rigid as if bracing himself for your reaction. the room felt impossibly still, the weight of the unspoken hanging heavy in the air.

you reached up, your fingers wrapping gently around his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. zach resisted for a moment, but when he finally let you guide him, his eyes met yours—hesitant, filled with embarrassment.

you offered him a small, reassuring smile, one that melted the tension in his features ever so slightly. without a word, you leaned in, your lips brushing softly against his in a kiss that was both hesitant and deliberate.

his brows furrowed, his body frozen for a split second, caught off guard by your sudden boldness. but then, as if a switch flipped, he responded, his hands instinctively finding your face. his touch was firm yet gentle, cradling you as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

it was tender and charged all at once, a silent confession spilling between you both without the need for words. the kitchen, the guilt, the tension—it all faded into the background, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in the moment you hadn’t realized both been waiting for.

your small hands gripped the sides of his sweater near his waist, anchoring yourself to him as his tongue slipped into your mouth without warning. the sensation sent a shiver down your spine, a soft gasp escaping your lips. every movement—every stroke of his tongue against yours, every firm tug of your hair—set your senses on fire, unraveling emotions you’d worked so hard to bury.

of course you liked zach.

you always had.

the realization hit you like a flood, overwhelming and undeniable. you had tucked those feelings deep into the corners of your heart, afraid of what would happen if zach ever found out. you couldn’t bear the thought of ruining what you had. but the truth was simple: your heart had always been his.

you loved him.

zach pulled back suddenly, breaking the kiss as both of you panted for air. his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and ragged. “wait, wait—” he murmured, his voice low and unsteady.

you whimpered softly, a needy sound you didn’t mean to let out and his cock twitched at it. “zach, please,” you whispered, desperate to feel his lips on yours again, the taste of him still lingering.

he smiled softly, brushing a quick kiss against your lips that left you craving more. “i know, m’sorry, baby,” he murmured.

the nickname made your stomach flutter, sending a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the cozy cabin. you sighed, tilting your head to look up at him, waiting for the words that you knew were coming.

zach’s face was conflicted, his brows drawn together as he avoided your gaze for a moment. “i can’t believe i’m saying this… but we can’t tonight,” he admitted, chewing on his bottom lip in that pained way he did when he was struggling with something.

you groaned softly, the disappointment evident in your expression. your eyes softened as you saw the genuine concern etched into his face.

“i don’t want to hurt you even more,” he continued, his hand brushing lightly against your side. “and it could make your injury worse.”

“zach,” you whined, leaning your forehead against his chest, squeezing your eyes shut. “we’ll be careful,” you pleaded, your voice soft and hopeful.

you tilted your head back up, your big, pleading eyes locking with his. you knew exactly the effect they had on him, and for a second, you saw him falter. his jaw tightened as he exhaled a shaky breath, clearly battling with himself.

zach let out a defeated sigh, his resolve crumbling as he crouched down and effortlessly lifted your legs around his waist. the sudden motion made you giggle, clinging to him instinctively. “i win,” you teased breathlessly, a triumphant grin spreading across your lips.

his only response was a sly smirk before pinching your ass, making you squeal in surprise. “careful, or i might change my mind,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he carried you to the bed.

the soft mattress welcomed you as he laid you down gently, the warm glow of the electric fireplace casting flickering shadows across the room. the heat of the moment mirrored the cozy warmth surrounding you both.

zach slid between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips as he settled there, his aching length pressing against you in a way that made your heart race. neither of you hesitated—your lips collided in a fervent kiss, all hunger and passion, as if this moment had been years in the making. which it was.

your fingers found their way into his hair, tangling in the soft strands as you pulled him closer. his lips moved against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own, each kiss deeper, more intoxicating, than the last. it felt as if the rest of the world melted away, leaving only the two of you in the crackling warmth of the cabin.

“god, you have no idea how much i’ve wanted this,” zach murmurs against your lips, his voice a mix of hunger and longing. your response is a soft moan, quiet but fervent, that makes him press even closer.

he trails a series of slow, teasing kisses down your neck, each nip and suck prompting a sweet, aching arch from your body—until a sudden twinge in your side makes you wince. zach notices immediately, pulling back, concern flooding his eyes. “you okay?”

you nod, forcing a soft smile while trying to mask the lingering pain. you’ve waited too long for this moment and the last thing you want is for him to stop.

he studies you for a second, as if assessing whether you’re truly good, then sits back on his legs. “alright,” he says, voice calm but resolute, “this is how it’s gonna go, then. you can’t move. at all.”

your brows draw together, half-expecting him to crack a grin. but he doesn’t. he’s serious, his gaze unwavering.

“if you move,” he continues, his voice dropping lower, “or try to, i’ll stop.”

you swallow, the weight of his words and the gentle authority in his tone sending a surge of arousal low into your belly. you bite the inside of your cheek, eyes fixed on him, already imagining how you’ll manage to keep still under his touch.

“okay,” you whisper, voice steady but laced with anticipation.

zach’s fingertips skimmed over the outside of your closed thighs, his touch feather-light yet deliberate, as if savoring the moment before taking it further. you watched him through half-lidded eyes, heart thrumming in your chest. with patient care, he began to slide your pajama pants down, revealing your baby blue lace underwear.

his throat worked over a hard swallow as he took you in, jaw clenching and pulse thrumming hot beneath his skin. he could feel himself respond immediately—his cock straining against the softness of his sweats. you saw the way his eyes darkened, how that gentle composure threatened to unravel.

without a word, he eased the lace down as well, leaving you bare before him. instinctively, you kept your thighs pressed together, a final barrier of modesty even as your cheeks warmed. he paused, taking in the sight—the subtle flush on your skin—letting the tension in the air stretch taut.

his gaze flickered up to yours, intense and wordless, the warm glow of the fireplace painting both of you in golden hues that made everything feel dreamy and far removed from the outside world.

“perfect,” he whispered, the single word washing over you, making your skin prickle with a delicious heat. it was as if he saw you in a new light—something delicate and cherished. you felt the flush rise all the way from your chest to your cheeks.

he worked on the buttons of your top with gentle care, careful not to brush too roughly near your bruise. his eyes softened the moment the fabric parted, revealing the tender, discolored skin along your ribs. it was more than just concern written in his features—there was affection, regret, and a silent promise to be gentle.

before you could protest or reassure him, his head dipped down, pressing a series of soft, reverent kisses to the bruise as he eased the top off you, leaving you bare. you shivered under the weight of his tenderness, the careful attention making you feel impossibly close to him.

his fingers drifted lower along your navel, the sensitive skin prickling under his touch. he nuzzled his head beneath your jaw, encouraging you to tilt your head and grant him better access as he breathed slowly, evenly, his warm breath fanning over your throat. just as you began to surrender to the sensation of his lips on your neck, he slipped his hand further down, exploring the softness between your legs.

the first gentle slide of his fingertips through your slick folds made your jaw slacken, a quiet gasp escaping. gathering your wetness, he began to trace slow, deliberate shapes over your clit, drawing you into a heady rhythm that set every nerve alight. your body instinctively wanted to rise to meet his touch, but each time your hips started to rock forward, he’d slow his pace, lifting his gaze to give you a knowing, pointed look—reminding you of your earlier agreement.

the unspoken rule was clear: no moving. you had to let him lead, to trust him completely. caught between sweet frustration and delicious anticipation, you let out a shaky breath and let him guide your pleasure, your heart pounding in your ears.

“shit—you’re soaking,” zach groaned, voice low and strained as he picked up the pace of his fingers. each curl and slide drew out soft, breathy whimpers that spilled from your parted lips. he wore a look of intense concentration, as though memorizing every sound you made.

without warning, his middle finger pressed at your entrance before slowly sinking in, earning a strangled moan that made him nuzzle deeper into your neck. “god,” he breathed, voice muffled against your skin, “you feel so good.” you tightened around him reflexively, and he groaned, the vibration of his voice sending sparks along your spine.

straightening up, he shifted to sit back on his legs, changing the angle and giving himself a better view. he guided your knee down flat against the mattress, not just for his eyes but to ensure you couldn’t easily arch into his touch. a high, keening moan tore from your throat as he curled his finger inside you, hitting that perfect spot that sent tremors through your thighs.

you fought the urge to lift your hips, remembering his warning. still, your body trembled with the need to move, to push deeper into that intoxicating sensation. zach noticed—how could he not?—and it fueled the dark satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. he knew you were on the edge, knew how badly you wanted to give in.

meanwhile, his own restraint was wearing thin. he was hard—achingly so—and the slow, deliberate way you clenched around his finger nearly did him in. but he held back and added a second finger, pulling a sharp moan from you. if you couldn’t keep still now, how could you handle all of him inside you? this was a test of sorts, a delicious torment, and he was savoring every second.

he felt the way you clenched around his fingers, each flutter and squeeze like a plea for release. your hand gripped his wrist, desperate and trembling, but his pace never wavered. “gonna cum for me, angel?” he asked, voice heavy with anticipation.

you nodded frantically, wordless cries tumbling past your lips as he kept hitting that perfect spot inside you. the pressure built swiftly, stealing your breath, until you shattered around him. your vision went white, the world narrowing down to nothing but the pleasure he wrung from your body.

he guided you through it, not stopping until your muscles started to twitch with the first hints of overstimulation. finally, he slowed, easing you down until your body relaxed beneath him, trembling and sated.

with deliberate slowness, he withdrew his fingers, eyes locked on yours. you watched as he brought them to his mouth, his gaze never leaving your face. he sucked on the digits, tasting you the way he’d imagined a thousand times, letting out a deep, appreciative groan. the warmth of his breath on your skin, the soft glow around you both—everything felt charged and intimate, humming with the understanding that nothing would be the same between you again.

zach tugged his sweatshirt off in one smooth, hurried motion, the fabric barely brushing his skin before it landed somewhere on the floor. the urgency in his movements was unmistakable—he was desperate to feel you against him again. every nerve in his body was alight, the ache of wanting you growing more intense by the second.

with a quick push, he lowered his sweatpants and boxers together, freeing himself in one swift motion. the sight of him made your pulse stumble. he was huge—imposingly so—and the thought of taking him in had your breath catching in your throat. you tried to keep your expression neutral, but the widening of your eyes gave you away.

zach noticed. a hint of a smirk ghosted his lips as he settled himself between your thighs, his length resting hot and heavy against your abdomen. leaning down, he caught your mouth in a kiss that was both tender and all-consuming, as if he needed to show you how much he wanted you, how badly he craved this moment with you.

“it’s okay, baby,” he murmured against your lips, voice low and reassuring. “we’ll make it fit.” he pulled back slightly, just enough to watch your face as he guided his tip to your entrance. he gave himself a few slow pumps, as though trying to ease the ache and calm the racing of his own heartbeat.

your breath caught again, excitement and nervous anticipation mingling as he hovered there, every second swelling with tension and promise.

he pressed forward slowly, a careful, deliberate push that drew a ragged gasp from both of you. his forehead hovered just above yours, the soft brush of your lips more an exchange of breath than a kiss, and you tangled your fingers into his hair, gripping gently as he eased himself deeper. small, shallow strokes let you stretch around him, adjusting inch by inch.

your eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the dull ache that signaled your body opening to him. he paused when he was fully sheathed, giving you time to accommodate his size. your breath caught as his pelvis brushed against your clit, sparking a low moan from your chest. then he pulled back just enough, pushing forward again to repeat the motion, sending soft ripples of pleasure through you. each gentle thrust replaced pain with gathering warmth, and you felt your body relaxing, welcoming him fully as a quiet whimper escaped your throat.

soon, the discomfort faded entirely, leaving only the sweet, humming pleasure of his movements. once he sensed the tension melt from your muscles, he began a steady, more confident rhythm. a subtle shift in angle, and before long, he had your legs wrapped around his waist, granting him deeper access. the pace picked up, each thrust punctuated by the soft slap of skin and echoed moans that drifted through the room.

you couldn’t hold back a curse at the intensity of it all—his body pressed to yours, filling you so completely, his breathing mixing with yours in frantic, needy staccato. it was raw and intoxicating, the two of you lost in the moment, in each other.

“mm, s’ so deep,” you whimpered, voice catching as you glanced down between your bodies. the sight of him disappearing into you with each thrust made your stomach flutter, your walls gripping him tightly.

zach’s breathing turned ragged, trying to maintain enough control to keep you safe and comfortable. but the temptation was too strong, and he gave a particularly sharp thrust, testing your reaction. you yelped, not in pain but in startled pleasure, and he felt you clench around him in response. encouraged, he repeated it until you were left hiccuping between sobs of bliss, every stroke drawing you closer to that sweet oblivion.

“i know, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with need. leaning down, he braced himself and brought his hand between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. he stroked firm, fast circles, determined to send you over the edge first. your nails raked along his shoulders, your breath hitching with each spiral of sensation. the coil in your belly tightened, ready to snap, as he coaxed you closer and closer toward that shattering release.

“—zach,” you warned, voice thin and strained. his response was a low, desperate moan, fingers and hips working in tandem, never giving you a moment’s respite. every thrust felt deeper than the last, his fingertips circling that swollen, sensitive spot until you were on the verge of unraveling completely.

“c’mon, baby,” he coaxed, voice rough and urgent. “soak me. i wanna feel it.” his pace quickened, hips snapping forward, and you gasped as a wave of pleasure hit you hard and fast. your walls clamped down around him, body arching, a silent scream caught in your throat as you were hurled headfirst into bliss.

zach kept moving, guiding you through the aftershocks, his cock dragging through your pulsing muscles as you trembled beneath him. your moans tumbled into whimpers, every nerve still singing with overstimulation. your fingers curled into his shoulders, breath coming in ragged gasps. “please cum inside me,” you begged, voice shaky and raw, desperate to feel him follow you into that world of sensation.

you felt him stiffen, his rhythm faltering as he pressed closer, every breath hot against your ear. with a low, guttural moan, he finally let go, hips rolling gently as he filled you, warmth spreading with each soft pulse. you could feel it, the tension draining from his body, leaving both of you weightless and sated.

his forehead dipped into the crook of your neck, lips pressing languid, grateful kisses against your skin. he was careful with his weight, mindful of your injury and the tenderness in your body, as both of you lingered in the lingering glow. your breaths intermingled, still coming in soft, uneven gasps as you drifted down from that blissful high.

after a moment, he slowly pulled out, making you both hiss quietly at the sensitivity. he rolled onto his side, immediately reaching for you and covering both of your cooling bodies with the duvet. you shifted to face him, still a little breathless, your eyes meeting as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“hi,” you managed, voice husky and soft, a small, contented smile curving your lips.

a quiet laugh escaped him, his arm moving soothingly up and down your back. “hey,” he replied, voice deep and warm, as if speaking in a secret language only the two of you understood.

“i don’t think i told you this earlier but…” you begin, voice soft and cautious as you search for the right words. “i’m all in, zach.” your heart is pounding in your ears, and you’re pretty sure he can feel it where he’s pressed close to you under the duvet.

zach’s eyes soften, a gentle smile curving his lips. the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes gives away his relief. you draw a shaky breath, forging ahead. “i feel like you know you’ve always been it for me. or even if you didn’t, i did. you’re my endgame.”

you’re watching him carefully, looking for any flicker of doubt or hesitation, but all you see is the same warmth and affection you’ve been craving for years.

he doesn’t say a word at first, just leans in and kisses you—slow and deliberate, a silent promise pressed softly into your lips. then he moves along your cheek, brushing your skin with tender pecks, and keeps going until you’re giggling, trying to squirm away from his playful assault of affection.

when he finally pulls back, both of you breathless with laughter, he meets your gaze head-on. “i’ve always loved you, y/n,” he says, voice steady and sure. “you’re it for me.”

your heart swells, and you think you’ve never been happier than in this very moment, wrapped up in his arms, secure in the certainty of what comes next.

for the rest of the night, you and zach drifted in and out of conversation—those familiar, meandering chats that never really needed a point—punctuated by soft laughter and sweet nothings murmured into the darkness. in the quiet spaces, you made love again and again, as if making up for all the time lost.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆

the next morning, you woke to find the bed empty. you stretched, the slight ache in your side a warm reminder of the day before. slipping into zach’s sweater and a pair of sleep shorts, you followed the glow of holiday lights out of the bedroom. as you reached the upstairs landing, your eyes widened at the transformation: the entire cabin, from the top floor down, was strung with festive garlands, sparkling ornaments, and twinkling lights.

a fond smile curved on your lips as you descended the stairs, drawn toward the kitchen by soft clinks and muffled curses. rounding the corner, you spotted zach at the stove, his back to you, clearly wrestling with some culinary experiment. “morning,” you said, leaning your elbows on the island.

he turned quickly, an anxious frown on his face. “did i wake you?” he asked, only to relax when you shook your head. you slipped behind the island to join him, his arms sliding around your waist as you took in the sight of eggs and batter, a haphazard attempt at breakfast. “wanted to surprise you,” he murmured into your hair. you giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek in thanks.

“good morning, baby,” zach said softly, smiling down at you.

just then, the front door swung open. in came both sets of parents and a handful of siblings, chatter and laughter echoing off the wood-paneled walls. “hello, hello!” your mom’s voice rang out. before you and zach could step apart or even explain yourselves, she rounded the corner into the kitchen. the scene she found: zach nuzzling your neck, you murmuring about how sweet he was being, both of you bathed in the soft glow of holiday lights.

you froze, cheeks flushing, while zach’s arms tightened protectively around you. your families, already grinning from the doorway, seemed more than pleased to discover the truth you’d both been too shy to admit—until now.

“alright, i called it! everyone cough it up!” avery, zach’s little sister, crowed triumphantly. your families groaned in unison, each one reluctantly digging into their pockets to hand over five dollars. avery quickly amassed thirty bucks in her palm, grinning from ear to ear.

you and zach exchanged a look, trying and failing to stifle your laughter before pulling apart and greeting everyone properly. you embraced each of them in turn, still a bit stunned to see them all here a day early. the cabin brimmed with the scent of pine, hot chocolate, and something baking in the oven—warmth and comfort encapsulated in one cozy scene.

for the remainder of your winter break, you and zach reveled in that feeling of family and togetherness. your days filled with laughter echoing off the wooden walls, good-natured bickering with siblings over board games, and playful teasing from your parents that had both of you blushing more than once. above all, there was the gentle thrill of reaching for zach’s hand under the table, catching his eye across the room, and feeling love wrapped around you like a warm blanket against the cold outside.

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