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wndaswife · 26 days ago

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a new tradition | wanda maximoff & gn!reader

Christmas is the busiest holiday for Westview’s planning committee, and it’s about to get far busier upon your meeting with a frustrating committee head.

Word count: 24 633

Tags | MDNI: smut, fluff!!! it is the season!, a little bit of angst, some humour, enemies to lovers, fingering, strap-on usage, nipple play, hair pulling, praise, mentions of reader’s genitals and breasts, afab!reader

Winter has always been beautiful in Westview. By the last week of November, there always came flecks of snow, signalling an upcoming white Christmas, and by mid-December, children were playing with their dogs and siblings in their backyards and town parks, sparking white blanketing the roofs, roads, and trees.

The town’s planning committee certainly did their own part for the holidays too, for Christmas was the committee’s largest and busiest occasion of the year. The committee, composed of town volunteers and run by Westview’s municipality, began planning by the first of December, and continued on eagerly until the twentieth.

By the twentieth, there was an itinerary planned and prepared for a performance in the town square on Christmas Eve. Typically, there was a set of musical performers and, around the patio, snack vendors for things like hot chocolate and warm pastries, and small business pop-ups.

Surrounded by outdoor heaters for the patio performers and the visitors, the town came together to listen to music, decorate cookies and ornaments, and support small businesses, with a fraction of all earnings going towards a local charity chosen in November by the planning committee.

Throughout December, the municipality itself decorated the town, with boughs of holly, lights, and other decorations and ornaments adorning the light poles, streets, and storefronts and their roofs. People of Westview began counting down until Christmas as the decorations gradually went up; by the time the town square’s patio was decorated, which was done last, they knew it was only a matter of days until the town celebration, and most importantly, until Christmas Eve.

As anyone would guess, everyone involved in any town affair during the duration of December was rather busy, so you were rather grateful that you were able to join the planning committee late.

You’d always wanted to somehow be a part of Westview’s Christmas traditions since moving there for work a year ago. You moved in around the end of November after you graduated, and your very first impression of the town was the all-around magical month of December. But last year, you travelled to see your family, and couldn’t stay for the planning nor the celebration.

This year, you were hosting, and that meant you could finally take part in the committee as you’d wanted to do last season, though you did end up joining late because you had to bring unexpected extra work home.

Naturally, you were rather excited to be able to both take a break from work and do something fun, and to get more involved with Westview’s community.

But upon your first committee meeting, you realized you weren’t expecting the committee was so… hierarchical.

You understood and even expected the hustle and bustle of assigned responsibilities and time-crunching, and even a few of the disagreements during the meetings and over the text groupchat which sometimes seemed a little hostile to you, so perhaps, to word it more accurately, what you hadn’t been expecting was Wanda Maximoff.

The committee worked by dividing volunteers into different sections of responsibility, involving those who worked with the small business, who handled the budgeting, the charity partnership, the performing bands, and many others.

Wanda Maximoff was the head of planning. She led the committee meetings, and she was the first one every divided section went to to discuss any changes or new ideas. Wanda could independently veto or approve any adjustment or suggestion, and knew everything about everything which not even the many of the divided sections knew about each other since they were too occupied with their own responsibilities.

Being registered as a committee volunteer took an application which went through Westview’s municipal website — not the committee itself.

Wanda had seen in her email that a new member had joined the committee. She’d never heard of you, and though she wasn’t particularly close to anyone in Westview, so she wouldn’t exactly be the first to know about social matters, she’d asked a few of the other executive planning volunteers, and they hadn’t heard of you either.

A large reason you wanted to join the committee was to become more involved in Westview’s community. The past year after moving last November was far busier than you’d expected, and along with a promotion at work, you’d had far too many new responsibilities to adjust to to have enough time to socialize or involve yourself very much.

With that being said, the upcoming holiday spent with the committee was going to be your first real involvement with the town and your community.

The first meeting was okay. It was around the end of the first week of December, which by the committee’s speed, was still late for you to suddenly jump in and join like they’d been playing jump rope. The meeting was somewhat of a debrief about how far everyone had gotten, while bringing up any new ideas in moving forward.

It was actually rather incredible to watch them all plan and discuss; they were diligent and all worked well with each other, and additionally, they were partnering with performers and vendors who were all local, which made planning everything in December possible.

You figured Wanda was the head of the committee for how every conversation either ended or started with her, and if they didn’t involve her, and was far more focused on what each group was saying than anyone else.

You didn’t speak very much, so perhaps that was why you might’ve appeared as some kind of outlier, but truly, you didn’t have anything to say, and wouldn’t have had anything to say even if you tried.

Though you understood the logic of being the odd one out, not much attention was drawn to you, likely because everyone was far too busy to pay you much attention — that is, aside from the busiest in the room.

Circles don’t have heads at their tables, and yet, Wanda was very evidently sitting at it. With the side of her chin in her hand, her head tilted slightly in your direction, your eyes kept flickering over at her, and more than half of the times you did, her green eyes darted away immediately and looked back over at whomever was presently speaking.

After the meeting, you chatted a little with some of the volunteers you were sitting beside, waiting patiently for a window in which you could approach Wanda. Everyone who was part of the committee was sorted into groups to take on different responsibilities, but you hadn’t been sorted yet, and it wasn’t mentioned in the meeting, which you understood given how busy everything was, so you were hoping Wanda could sort you.

Wanda was slinging her purse over her shoulder when you approached her, and when she turned around, there was just a single beat in which she seemed to be surveying you, as if a resolve to the brief glances she had taken of you from afar.

You introduced yourself to her.

“Y/N,” she acknowledged, without introducing herself in turn. “Your name was emailed to me this afternoon after you submitted your application two days ago.”

You looked at her wordlessly for a moment then nodded, as if hesitant. You were waiting for her to continue. What did she expect you to say to that?

You felt slightly belittled for how unwelcoming initially came across, and how her greeting only called you to initiate more of the conversation on your own. And she wasn’t even really acknowledging you, she was just stating a fact, as if she would’ve said the exact words to anyone else in any professional setting.

‘The sky is blue, it’s wintertime, there are light traces of freckles along the bridge of my nose, and your name was emailed to me this afternoon,’ she seemed to be saying.

“Cool,” you answered. It was an answer in the form of an itch; you felt you couldn’t respond to her with the cordiality you’d initially intended.

It wasn’t just the way she had spoken, for you didn’t expect any obligation for any specific form of kindness. She was the head of the committee, and no doubt extremely busy and extremely stressed, and you were late to join, after all.

So you put aside the way she was looking at you, in the bored and scrutinizing way she was, and how she kept looking over at you during the meeting only to say little to nothing welcoming or friendly upon your official introduction.

If you knew Wanda well enough, not that many did, you would’ve noticed the narrowing of her eyes visible only by a slight twitch at the corner of them.

Cool.

“I was wondering how I’d be able to figure out what I should start helping with,” you told her. You hoped feigning curiosity would give yourself a good impression — you already knew it was Wanda who was assigned roles.

“That depends,” she said, her focus not at all on you as she reached into her purse to take her car keys out. She looked back up at you. “Are you good at anything?”

For a moment, you genuinely questioned if you had done something wrong, and then you quickly realized it isn’t at all your responsibility to baby a grown woman.

You repeated, genuinely confused and not willing to intentionally leave a bad impression this early into your volunteering, “Am I good at anything?”

“Are you good at anything discussed during the meeting?” she clarified, her expression remaining still and unimpressed.

“I wouldn’t know,” you answered, “this is my first time here. Wasn’t that mentioned in the email?”

Wanda looked to the side thoughtfully, as if thinking something over, but the slight rising of her shoulders as she took in a breath indicated irritation. Then she looked back at you. “It was. But I assumed you had some prior experience, perhaps from your own job or volunteering experience.”

Something uncomfortable and tense tightened in your stomach. It wasn’t as if she was saying anything particularly rude, but you knew it was meant to be somewhat offensive, if not purposefully condescending.

“We’re always a bit rushed in booking the performances, so if that’s something that interests you, you can help with that,” she finally offered. “I’ll give you Kate’s number so you can contact her and make some plans to meet up on your own time during the week.”

After you received a Kate Bishop’s number, you tucked your pride away and thanked Wanda for her help, only to look up from your phone and find her approached by a man around her age whose face you recognized from the meeting, who she immediately looked far more friendly with.

You weren't planning on sticking around to stand idly watching the coldest woman you’ve met in Westview so far since you moved last November act all buddy-buddy with someone else right in front of you, but the transition from speaking to you to speaking with the man was far too stark to not notice the differences, even for the split second you stood there for.

He placed his hand on the table behind her, to which Wanda turned, leaning against the table and looking up at him as they spoke. A gold wedding band adorned the finger of the man’s hand which you noticed was placed on the table, and you assumed he was her husband.

For a moment as you turned to leave, you sympathized with Wanda, who you could now envision as a stressed and overworked woman who was glad to see her husband after a long day.

Perhaps it was just thinking over the bizarre contrast between her interactions with you and the immediate friendly demeanour she took with the man that made you turn your head back as you walked away, just to reconstruct her first impression on you. But when you turned, you realized she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring at all.

You were slightly confused and perhaps a little intrigued, but not at all invested enough to think about that nor about Wanda Maximoff at all by the time you left the building. When you got into the driver’s seat of your car, you sent Kate Bishop a text message introducing yourself and explaining how you got her number and for what reason, then headed home, eager to finally lay down.

By the time you were on the road, driving down the decorated light poles and storefronts, and down the snowy, sparkling white sidewalks and roofs, you forgot all about Wanda and that dreadful first interaction.

Two days later, you met up with the group within the committee which handled the preparation of the performances. You didn’t know who you were expecting to see once you met up at one of Westview’s cafes to plan and discuss, but you certainly weren’t expecting a group that was composed of only college students.

You weren’t much older than them — you finished your postgrad last year — but you were younger than Wanda, and maybe it was just because you harboured some remnants of bitterness for her, but you almost thought the group she suggested to you was intentional.

After an hour of conversing with them, however, you realized you were being far too obsessive with your first interaction with Wanda to have even had that thought upon meeting them, because you actually ended up having likely one of the first thoroughly enjoyable times with a group of people from your town.

Along with Kate, you were grouped with her friends America, Peter, and Kamala. If you were honest with yourself, you felt a little insecure about your age while being around them, listening to them discuss school while you’d been working for a year since graduation. But you felt, and they assured you once you mentioned it to them half-jokingly, that you honestly blended in just fine.

In fact, Peter very seriously thought you were in his history class this past semester.

But in a way, that made you feel a little bashful — did you still look like a college student, and not at all like the professional you thought you’d been becoming throughout the past year?

Is that what you looked like to Wanda that day you first met?

You didn’t see Wanda again until the next committee meeting, which you found out took place twice a week. Only the first meeting was mandatory, and the other was optional for any pressing questions, and also provided a window for opportunity to speed up the planning if anyone had any extra time to do so.

After the last few days meeting with your group and talking a little over the groupchat between all of you, you found yourself in a particularly good mood, and it was hard to stay sour in Westview when it was winter, getting closer and closer to Christmas each day.

You wanted to make a good impression and wanted to make some room for having further conversation with other volunteers, so you stopped by a cafe and bought a box of twelve fresh muffins. There were about two times that amount of people in the committee, but you were certain not everyone would want one, and you also weren’t sure how permitted it was to bring food to the meetings.

You were planning on arriving early and placing the muffins on the table with a little note to take one, with an easy in and out without being seen. You didn’t want to be seen bringing the muffins in because you figured you’d end up behaving far too awkward in the act, effectively outweighing any possibility of having the first impression you wanted.

If someone brought the muffins up, or offered you one, you were planning on somehow subtly bringing up that you were the one who brought them.

After setting the box down on the edge of the meeting room table, you placed the sticky note you wrote on top of it. You turned to head out the door, planning on waiting in the car for others to arrive before reentering, only to come across Wanda on your way out.

She had her chin tucked into her scarf, and a knitted hat on, looking rather cozy and warm in her jacket, the purse which you saw her carry last week hanging from her shoulder. At the sight of you, and at how you slowed down as you passed her, she untucked half her face from her scarf and took her hat off, causing her brown hair to frizz up as she pulled it off.

Combing her fingers through the top of her head to smooth her hair down, she said, “You’re early. Heading out?”

“O-Oh…” you stuttered, feeling awkward.

You weighed the risk of telling her you brought muffins, since you didn’t know if bringing food was allowed. And wouldn’t you look even far more awkward if food was allowed, and you were running away from a box of muffins as if you’d just wired in a bomb?

Wanda continued to look at you expectantly, slowly unwrapping her scarf from around her neck, which distracted you from making a decision about what to tell her, for whatever reason.

“I brought muffins,” you suddenly said.

She blinked, eyes darting down at your empty hands which laid limp at your sides, then to your back and shoulders, which was devoid of any bag to carry any muffins in.

“I already put it in the meeting room.”

“It’s already in there?” she asked.

You nodded once.

“Then where are you going? Aren’t you staying for the meeting?”

Did she question everyone this seriously? Couldn’t she at least smile a little or give you a little laugh to ease the tension?

“I am. I just… forgot something in my car.”

Wanda looked at you for a moment, and surprisingly, it didn’t look like she was scrutinizing you. It looked like she was thinking something over. She looked in the direction of the meeting room, and you took the time to look at her ring finger. She wasn’t married.

“Why did you bring muffins?” she then asked, looking back over to you and putting her hat into her purse and holding her scarf.

You opened your mouth and promptly shut it, realizing all you knew to do in the moment was stutter, so you stayed quiet for a moment to think of what to say so as to not look like an idiot. “I just wanted to do something nice, I guess,” you said.

“Really?” Wanda said, her eyebrows raising ever so slightly, seemingly surprised. “I see.” She made some kind of noise, like a hum, and looked away into the general direction of the meeting room.

Then she undid her jacket, looking at you only briefly and saying a few words before heading into the building: “Well, I won’t keep you from going back to your car. I’ll see you.”

When you thought back to how Wanda had kept looking over to you during the first meeting you attended, you imagined that she was interested in you because it was her first time seeing you, and figured she was likely that way with everyone who initially joined.

Naturally, that meant that after conversing with her and proving yourself as able to reliably contribute to your group, you imagined she would treat you like any other member, and after that, you’d come to realize that you’d been thinking about her in a rather overdramatic fashion.

But instead, Wanda seemed to pay you even more attention. You caught her staring far more often, though this time, it was hard to justify this as stealing glances when you were actually part of a group this time. She made unwavering eye contact with you when you spoke, which she didn’t do with anyone else. She picked at your suggestions and progress reports more than anyone else in your group.

This time around, you genuinely started to feel rather frustrated. You’d been enjoying your last few days in Westview with your group, and were looking forward to the rest of the month, and had initially believed that your irritating interactions with Wanda were more or less made up by your imagination.

But this all seemed far too targeted to be coincidental.

You were even too irritated during the meeting to pay attention to anyone who was enjoying the muffins you brought — which was, unbeknownst to you, quite popular amongst the members. You told Kamala about the muffins when you’d bought them, since you asked her about where to go for the best ones, so she was able to drop your name to other members a few times.

After the meeting, Wanda was talking with the same man who approached her after the meeting last week — the same married man.

“Can I talk to you, Wanda?” you interrupted their conversation the moment you heard the briefest gap in their conversation. She looked over to you, along with the man, who for some reason irritated you far more than she did in the moment.

They exchanged a few last words before parting, and Wanda turned to you, adjusting her scarf. “What did you need to talk about?” she asked.

You had hoped she was planning on talking in a more private place, but she didn’t move anywhere else, and stayed more or less in the vicinity of traffic of people who were leaving. If she didn’t want to put any effort in nor give any indication that she cared about interacting with you, then you’d have the conversation right there.

“Do you have a problem with me?” you asked.

For the first time, Wanda wore an expression around you that was other than bored and unimpressed, looking somewhere between entertained and surprised. “I’m sorry?”

“You asked me more questions about my group than anyone else I’m paired with, and more than anyone else in the committee,” you told her.

“It bothers you to be favoured?”

You flinched back a little, as if the word ‘favoured’ had physically nudged you backwards. “F… Favoured?”

“Y/N…” Wanda let out a little exhale that you knew was a repressed sigh. “This is your first year volunteering. It is not unreasonable nor should it be threatening to you that I want to ensure you’re playing your part within your group. And I want to make sure you’re getting along well with everything.”

“You’re overdoing it,” you quickly replied. “I joined only a week late, and if you think I need more monitoring than any other volunteer, you’re not focusing your attention on the right things. You don’t think I notice that you look at me even when I’m not the one talking?”

In the split second of silence between your second last sentence and your final one, Wanda opened her mouth to respond, but quickly shut it when you mentioned how she kept looking at you. Her jaw seemed to tense and she adjusted her purse on her shoulder, her eyes darting over to the side for a brief moment.

“To each their own, Y/N,” she replied simply. “Either way, if you’re getting along with everything well, what I do shouldn’t bother you as much as it does. Everything is getting done on time, isn’t it? What more could you ask for?”

She likely had wanted the conversation to stop with a rhetorical question, but if she was really asking, then you were really going to answer. “I want to ask for you to stop treating the committee like it’s some kind of tyranny. You know, people come here in their spare time, away from their families and their homes to do something nice.”

Wanda visibly tensed, and she seemed to be fidgeting when her other hand moved to the front of her jacket to tug at the edge of her scarf. Perhaps she simply didn’t like confrontation. You wondered when the last time anyone confronted her was, and then you wondered when she’d given anyone but you a reason to confront her.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she apologized disingenuously, clearly just wanting to end the conversation. You wondered if she had plans to get to, and at the thought that she was just in a rush to go meet that married man at some dingy motel, you exhaled through your nose with visible irritation.

You attended the following optional meeting because America wanted to discuss the possibility of including one of the bands at the college she went to into the performance setlist, so it was just you and her out of your group that attended. Typically, they partnered with more local bands, but America really liked them, and she was certain she could have them perform for cheaper than the usual bands they invited if they paid for their trip here.

Upon arriving, you noticed that there were a few pastries set out on the table, and thermos of hot chocolate and some paper cups and lids, which some members were helping themselves to as they settled in. Everyone was warming up with the hot chocolate, and looking delightfully surprised at the selection of pastries since a storm was beginning to come down outside as they all drove in.

“Y/N, dear, you had the right idea bringing muffins the other day,” Mrs Davis gushed as she approached you from behind, a hand on your upper arm. “Everyone is always so hungry at the evening meetings, since some of us have to squeeze them in before dinner.”

America looked amused at your confusion as your eyes darted between the pasties and hot chocolate and Mrs Davis. She knew you felt a little confused and preoccupied by being drilled by Wanda — though you chose not to share how much she irritated you — so she knew that you hadn’t paid attention to how popular the muffins were last meeting, or how Kamala mentioned to others that you brought them.

“Oh,” you replied with a friendly albeit confused smile. “Did you bring these?”

“I bought the hot chocolate, but Rio and Agatha brought the pastries,” she answered with a beaming smile.

An excited and warm feeling grew in your chest at the thought that you’d started a little tradition, which made you forget all about how confused you initially were.

In spite of the cheery beginning and how the committee started out, chatting about each other’s holidays and preparations at home with their families, the meeting progressed with gradual confusion since Wanda still hadn’t shown up twenty minutes into the hour-long meeting.

It wasn’t a good look on her, since a member of Westview’s municipal financial association had come to sit in to see how things were coming along since the committee was largely funded by them along with some other invested donors.

By the twenty minute mark, everyone decided to begin speaking altogether and writing the biggest takeaways into a notebook, which would be provided to Wanda over text and in the committee groupchat. Things discussed in optional meetings weren’t always necessarily shared with the rest of the committee, since they were typically attended for more specific questions and planning, but it was Wanda who decided what should be made common knowledge, which she covered in the following meeting, or if it was pressing, she’d send it to the groupchat. But since she wasn’t there, it was decided that they’d record everything important that was covered, whether it was a resolved question or not.

Close to forty minutes into the meeting, Wanda arrived, looking a little frazzled, with her scarf and hat still on. She had tried to come in subtly but, perhaps intentionally, Rio called out, greeting her loudly.

“I’m sorry for being so late,” she apologized, and you could detect a little breathlessness in her voice. She sat down and took her hat off, her hair frizzing up at the top like it did the other time she took her hat off. But she didn’t smooth it down before she undid her scarf, making her look even more frazzled.

As she looked around at the table and then at the notebook, and then at the municipal member sitting at the table, Wanda slid her jacket off and smoothed her hair out. “How… has everything been going?” she asked. She was then given a rundown from the notebook, Wanda nodding and listening carefully as it was all explained to her.

Throughout the rest of the meeting, you didn’t catch Wanda looking over at you even once.

The municipal member who had come to sit in pulled Wanda to the side after the meeting finished, engaging in a conversation which looked slightly serious from the other side of the room as you chatted with Mrs Davis and Rio and Agatha as they packed up their things while you and America helped.

They all left as soon as possible, since Mrs Davis carpooled with Rio and Agatha on their way here, and the storm had suddenly come down rather heavy outside, so they were eager to get home quick before the visibility got any worse. America’s mothers were waiting outside for her, so you said goodbye to her too as you zipped up your jacket.

By the time you headed out, Wanda was standing inside the building by the door, looking out through the windows at the side of the front door. She was back in her scarf and hat and bundled up jacket, so you weren’t sure why she was still hanging out at the front.

Upon getting a closer look at her as you continued to walk towards the exit, you noticed that Wanda looked genuinely stressed, unlike the other times you only assumed she was. She seemed anxious looking out the window, and seemingly tense in general.

You looked outside the windows, and the snow was very quickly building, footsteps at least a few inches into the snow until they reached the ground, and a few people still getting into their cars, the sight of them blurring in the white veil of the blowing snow, shielded themselves from the wind, careful not to hit the other cars around them while opening their car doors.

“If you wait any longer to drive home, it’ll only be harder to get through the snow,” you said, stopping a few feet away from her. She jumped a little, turning her head to look at you and staring for just a moment before looking back through the window.

Her scarf was wrapped up to just below her nose, muffling her words slightly as she replied, “I’m waiting for an Uber.”

“Huh? An Uber?” you asked. “No driver is driving around in a small town through a storm that just started. The salters haven’t even come out yet. Didn’t you drive here on your own?”

Wanda didn’t respond, and looked down between her phone — which you assumed she was tracking her driver through — and the window.

Though you were frustrated at her standoffishness and how she just completely ignored you, you inhaled sharply before pressing, “You should just call a friend or some family to pick you up. You’ll be waiting here at least forty minutes before your driver comes.”

“Incidentally, don’t you someplace to be?” Wanda suddenly asked sharply, turning her head around to look at you.

Your eyes narrowed and you adjusted your jacket, preparing for the winter storm. “Fine. Then I guess I’ll be seeing you at the next meeting — still waiting here for your Uber.”

She gave you a look as you walked past her and left the building.

You stormed off into the blizzard with enough anger that you were melting all the snow sprinkling down in your vicinity with how frustrated you felt, suddenly feeling like you were overheating in your jacket.

There was something about Wanda that just really pissed you off, and even worse, you couldn’t stop thinking about her. After the meetings and when you were home, you hardly thought about her, and more often than not, you were ready to be friendly with her every time another meeting came around. But each time you interacted with her, she drilled herself further and further into your brain and buried herself there.

There was just something irrational about how frustrated she made you that just sort of ate at you. You thought she looked so stupid in her scarf, and she looked like an idiot when she took her hat off and her hair was in a frizzy mess.

And what was the deal with her and that married guy? She certainly wasn’t her brother or her friend with how close he got, and you could swear once you saw him brush his hand up against her hip — with the hand he had his ring on!

So, along with being just a dick, she was a stupid idiot who owned stupid scarves and stupid hats, and she was a homewrecker and a total anti-feminist for flirting with a married man.

Then, feeling frustrated and overwhelmed and not paying attention to your surroundings, you set your foot down on some ice and nearly slipped. You were flailing around and practically running in place desperately until your foot landed on the thick snow to give you enough friction to steady yourself.

And you knew it was irrational, but fuck, this was somehow all Wanda’s fault.

You ripped your hat off, finally becoming overstimulated with it on, before sticking it in your jacket pocket. You looked back over at the building, and then at the parking lot which was very empty of an Uber driver, and you stormed back over to the front door.

When you reentered the building, Wanda was still standing in the same spot, and when you turned to look at her, holding the door open from the inside, she looked up from her phone at you, confused.

“I’ll drive you home,” you told her bluntly. “Let’s go.”

She straightened, putting her phone in her pocket. “No, I’m waiting for my ride.”

“You’re not getting an Uber in this storm!”

“Well, I am. I already ordered one.”

You really weren’t planning on raising your voice, but you had nearly slipped on ice, and you needed to get out of your jacket, and Wanda looked so stupid with her scarf wrapped up around the lower half of her face.

“Wanda, let’s go!” you bit as if she were a child throwing a tantrum in a grocery store and you were her parent, who’d been patient for long enough.

She stared at you for a few moments, the whistling wind of the blizzard outside the only noise between the two of you.

“Fine,” she finally mumbled, burying her face in her scarf and heading out the door. She waited a moment for you to exit the building behind her, before she followed behind you towards your car.

Wanda told you where she lived after she buckled herself in and you pulled out of the parking lot. She remained bundled in her hat and scarf. Maybe it was because Wanda hadn’t ever been in your car before, but she looked so tiny sitting in the passenger’s seat, half her head wrapped up in her plush scarf.

But maybe she was making herself smaller, sinking into her jacket and the seat,

Taking in a small breath and trying to melt your frustration away in the warmth of your car, you asked softly, “Why were you late?”

Wanda shifted in her seat, folding her gloved hands in her lap. “My car broke down on the way here,” she explained. “I tried to stay around to get it towed, but I ended up having to leave it there because of how busy the towing company was. They suggested I get it done tomorrow morning instead.”

“How did you get to the meeting?”

“One woman came, but by the time she did, the car was already covered and far too stuck in the snow, and she couldn’t call anyone else. So she drove me.”

Maybe you got a little too excited at the thought that you were finally having a normal conversation with the woman who’d been irritating you so much, so you casually asked, “So, is that guy your husband?”

“What?” she asked, taken by surprise. She looked at you, the lower half of her face a little more uncovered. At the stoplight, you looked at her, seeing the bridge of her nose and her cheeks flushed a gentle pink from the warmth of her scarf.

Then you looked away and back at the road, feeling that you’d perhaps got ahead of yourself, and after thinking it over for a moment, you weren’t sure why that was the question that came out of you. You’d already come to the fine conclusion that Wanda was seeing a married man, but perhaps it was interacting with her normally that made you think for the first time that such a thing might be uncharacteristic of her.

“No, he’s not,” she finally answered. “I’m not married.”

You decided not to mention it again. You had already known that Wanda wasn’t married to him, and you weren’t really interested in knowing more about her love life. Actually, the idea that Wanda even had a love life made you a little uncomfortable. The idea that she could act in any way other than how you’d already witnessed her, and instead, as romantic and affectionate, was somehow startling.

“You should probably cancel that Uber,” you told her.

There were a few moments of silence, and you figured Wanda was cancelling the drive since you weren’t paying attention to what she was doing. Then, she said quietly, “I never got a driver. No one picked it up.”

You looked over at her for a second and she was still sunken down into her jacket, looking straight ahead at the road, whose visibility was becoming steadily worse as the storm progressed. “So… were you waiting for someone?”

“I was…” She sounded like she was thinking something through. “I was just waiting for the storm to die down before I tried to go home.”

“I’m sure one of your friends or some of your family would’ve come to pick you up,” you told her, thinking that she was the kind that was against asking people for help.

You were beginning to realize that Wanda always seemed a little tense each time you brought up any mention of family, so you didn’t press any further when she was silent in response to what you said.

When you arrived at her place, you offered to help her out of the car, but she said she was fine to get out on her own. She closed the door behind her and walked around to your window. Though you felt a little put on the spot, you rolled the window down.

You couldn’t really see her expression beyond her plush scarf still covering everything below the tip of her nose, but she looked just a little awkward as she looked at you, her gaze seeming uncertain and hesitant.

“Thank you for driving me,” she said, and you couldn’t tell if she was purposefully mumbling or if her scarf was muffling her words.

Suddenly you felt a little awkward, and your chest felt fluttery. “You’re welcome,” you answered.

“And I don’t know if you really care about these things, but everything I’ve heard about you from the committee has been very positive.”

“Oh.”

“They all say you’re very kind and responsible and friendly. And everyone thought it was really sweet that you brought the muffins earlier this week.”

You didn't want to say oh again, but you honestly didn’t know what else to say. You felt like you were put on the spot, and more than that, your face felt warm. “Oh. Okay. I see.”

Wanda blinked then looked away for a moment as if thinking of something else to say, though her expression was still and unmoving. But then she looked back at you and said, “Thank you for driving. I’ll see you next week.” Then you waited until she got into her house before you pulled out of her driveway and headed back home as soon as you could, getting out of the storm.

The next time you met up with your group, there was just under two weeks left until Christmas, and you were all making perfect time, and from what you’d been hearing, so were the other groups.

“Did you see all the changes Wanda made to our document?” Kate asked as you all settled down in a booth from picking your drinks up at the counter.

You looked up from your mug.

“Changes?” Peter asked, sounding slightly whiny. “I thought our setlist and budgeting was perfect.”

Kate huffed as she scrolled down the Google Doc. “Yeah, but at least she only changed little things,” she said, leaning forward and reading the screen.

“Like what?” Kamala asked, scooping some whipped cream from her hot chocolate with a spoon and sticking it into her mouth.

A small confused frown formed on Kate’s face. “Just, like… the songs and the order of the bands. And the accessories they were going to wear.”

“She didn’t change any of the actual bands?” America asked.

Kamala added, probably as some sort of inside joke, “Or relocate our spendings?”

“Umm…” Kate scrolled through the document again, double-checking. “Nope. None of that. She just fixed around random things.”

You didn’t really like talking about Wanda with them, because you were still partly convinced that you were just making it all up, and you were just being overly irritated around her. But you still couldn’t really pinpoint why she got under your skin so much.

Taking a sip of your drink and trying not to sound so invested in the topic of her, you asked as nonchalantly as you could, “Does she normally do all the other stuff?”

“Yeah, last year she relocated a bunch of our funding to a different group, then changed around the setlist we scheduled,” Kamala answered, setting her mug down, revealing a white rim of whipped cream along her upper lip.

Kate jutted her hand into the middle of the table, holding all five fingers up. “Five days before Christmas, by the way,” she added, eyebrows raised. “And we had to call the bands to tell them that their performance times had changed, which luckily didn’t conflict with anything, and we also had to cut way down on a whole lot of other things we were planning, and it was just… a mess.”

“Oh,” you said, somewhat shocked at hearing the things she did last year. You already thought she could be rather tyrannical, but you wouldn’t have expected her to go into a group’s plans and change so much without notice.

“I thought she’s been sorta nicer this year,” Peter said, snapping his Biscoff cookie in half and taking a bite of one the halves.

Kamala suddenly gasped and leaned forward, her hands making contact with the table, effectively gaining the group’s attention. “Wait, is it true that she got in trouble at the last meeting for coming late?”

America nodded, “Yeah, because she was forty minutes late, and a woman from the town council came to the meeting.”

“She was late?” Kate asked, looking up from her laptop. “I guess that’s surprising for her, but why did she get in trouble for that?”

Peter mentioned, “Ned’s uncle works in Westview’s financial department, and he told me that the committee was behind in reporting the budgeting.”

“Oh,” America added, “the woman told me she was from the same department. So… I guess the tardiness was just the cherry on top.”

On the way back home from the cafe, you thought about how little you actually knew about Wanda from the meetings, and upon reflecting on your conversation in the car, you realized you didn’t get to learn much about her then, either.

Something about that made you feel a little impatient, with Wanda seeming more and more like some enigma you were compelled to understand. You enjoyed seeing her that way more than you previously saw her since you could see her as more of a mystery than a weight on your shoulders.

But you couldn’t deny how relieved it made you that you weren’t the only one she’d ever pissed off.

By the time of the next meeting, there was a week and half left until Christmas, and everything seemed to be progressing well with all the groups. Everything was scheduled to be finished on time, if not a little bit early.

Aside from the newly-developed tradition of bringing a few snacks and drinks to the meeting, everything went as it typically did, aside from the fact that Wanda looked almost�� a little flustered when you caught her looking at you, though you caught her far less frequently than you did the times before.

Because of how little she spoke with the other committee members, you figured it was because she felt a little awkward having interacted with a member outside of the meeting.

And you didn’t forget about how you snapped at her when she wouldn’t let you drive her at first.

It was a little embarrassing to think back on, especially with how frustrated you were, but you ended up being able to drive her anyway, and she told you that everyone had a great impression of you, so it wasn’t all for nothing.

While looking at Wanda from across throughout the meeting, you felt sort of bad for her.

After thinking about it a little bit, why didn’t she mention any friends or family helping her with her broken down car? Or after the fact, once the meeting finished? Even if she was the kind to be against asking people for help, it must say something about her loved ones that she felt she couldn’t rely on them for help.

Then there was the matter about how she always looked a little uncomfortable when you mentioned family.

As much as you hated thinking about her love life for a reason you couldn’t entirely understand — though you were sure it was because it still felt strange for you to imagine Wanda could be in a relationship — it was a little depressing to imagine that the only person she’d been spending her holidays with was a married man.

Being the head of the planning committee for Westview’s busiest and largest holiday was a lot to handle, and volunteering was still something everyone did in their spare time, so the possibility that she could very well have dozens of other far more pressing things in her life going on, only to be reprimanded by someone representing the committee’s funding, couldn’t be very easy for her.

After the meeting, you approached her, and as you did, you came to the realization that you spoke with her at the end of every meeting you attended so far, and not even the married guy did that.

“Wanda, I was wondering if I could get your help with something,” you said as you stopped at her side while she was slipping a few papers into her purse.

She hung her purse from her shoulder and turned to you. “With what?” she replied simply.

Although Wanda still hadn’t given you as much as a single smile so far, you thought you made a little progress, given that you also somewhat expected her to take your request for her help as indicative of your inability to keep up with the rest of your group.

As you walked out to the parking lot together, you explained, “Rio and Agatha’s group asked me for a little bit of help with planning the decorating of the performance patio since they were a little behind, and they thought I would know the best way to decorate since we’re planning the performers’ outfits.”

“They didn’t have to ask you, they could’ve just spoken with your group.”

“They did, but everyone else was busy. I have the least to do in the group since they all fit me in to do anything extra. And it’s not a big deal, I just wanted to discuss budgeting stuff with you.”

Wanda stared down at the snowy ground as she walked forward. Then she looked up and over at you. “Alright. We can meet when you’re free to ask me anything you want.”

Although you technically already had Wanda’s number since the committee groupchat was made through WhatsApp, she gave you her number anyway, perhaps not realizing that you already had it through the groupchat. And there was something about Wanda giving you her number that made you feel a little excited.

But what made you even more excited was that Wanda used one smiley face over text when you planned to meet up.

That was basically a real life smile.

You decided to come early to your lunch with Wanda on the Saturday which you both planned to meet for. You were ten minutes early, but by the time you arrived, Wanda was already sitting at a table with a cup of coffee.

You rechecked the time, and you were indeed ten minutes early.

“Hi, I’m here,” you greeted as you stopped at the chair that was opposite of Wanda, taking off your jacket and hanging it from the back of it. “Have you been here very long?”

In the same way that she looked in your car, Wanda seemed tiny sitting at the table with her cup of coffee and wearing clothes that were a little more casual than those which she wore to the meetings. Maybe she always just seemed much larger to you in the context of the meetings, since she didn’t even really behave the same way outside of them.

“Hi,” she greeted back first. “I’ve been here for maybe fifteen minutes. I thought I would come early too.”

You took a seat and looked around at the place. It was primarily a cafe, but known for its cheap and delicious breakfast sandwiches, so it was also known as a breakfast location, but in the afternoon, as a proper cafe. You hadn’t been yet, but Peter had been queuing this place up to go the next time your group had to meet.

As you looked around, Wanda watched you, her fingers rubbing against the side of her warm mug, feeling a little nervous. When you looked back to the side of the cafe that was behind her and into her general vicinity, her eyes darted back down to her coffee.

Wanda didn’t know anything about you by the first meeting, but she was immediately drawn to how you seemed to her. You were curious, always looking around at the table, and very attractive. She knew immediately that you were going to do quite well at whatever you wanted to put your time towards.

Truthfully, Wanda has never been good with socializing. She was good at planning and being professional in a way that other people hated enough so that she never really had to worry about being close with others.

It wasn’t lost on her how you’d approached her at the end of every meeting, if not only to speak to her with some hostility. She noticed how sweet you were to the other members, and how well you were already getting along with everyone. Though she figured that anyone she asked would have said all those things she mentioned to you after you drove her to her place, she actually hadn’t been told anything about you. She just didn’t know how else to talk to you in that way.

No one really told Wanda anything in the social context; she wasn’t ever really wanted or thought about unless it was necessitated.

Truthfully, she didn’t feel jealous about how popular you were, but instead, she felt rather nervous to be around you. It felt similar to feelings of insecurity, if she really thought about it.

She decided to come to the cafe early to try and prepare herself for lunch with you, since she would’ve felt even worse panicking away at home or alone in the car. God, what did people even talk about over lunch? She couldn’t even remember the last time she met someone in such a casual context. It felt somewhat casual anyway, although you had asked her to discuss some of your committee responsibilities.

“Do you mind if we get some food before we talk about the budgeting?” you asked, and when Wanda looked up from her coffee, you were making eye contact with her. “I haven’t eaten yet.”

She nodded.

You trailed off as you flipped through the menu, and when you noticed she didn’t have a menu open, you looked up at her. “Are you getting anything?”

“Oh. I know what I want.”

“Were you really here for that long?”

“I come here sometimes for breakfast if I wake up early enough.”

The image of Wanda coming in here for breakfast while bundled up in her cozy hat and plush scarf at nine in the morning kind of made you wanna tease her for such an adorable routine. Well, you told yourself it was adorable for her, at least. Breakfast restaurants were pretty popular in many contexts, for many people. But for whatever reason, you liked to imagine Wanda doing things like that.

The food came and you found yourself observing her as if she were some kind of specimen. It was interesting to watch her do things that didn’t have anything to do with the committee or planning or being a little tyrannical. Everything she did outside of that was interesting, like how she held her utensils or which part of her plate she ate first, or after how many bites she took a sip of her coffee.

“So, what do you do when you’re not volunteering?” you asked.

“I teach at a high school about thirty minutes outside of Westview.”

Damn. She must not be very popular there, either. You weren’t even trying to be rude by thinking that; if you were a high school student, you certainly wouldn’t have liked her.

“What do you teach?”

But before she could answer, you quickly interjected, “Oh, wait, let me guess.”

She closed her mouth and smiled slightly, looking like she thought you were sort of entertaining or funny. “Okay,” she replied softly. “Guess.”

You hummed, looking at her in great detail as you thought over all that you knew of her. Wanda shifted in her seat, tugging at the bottom of her knit sweater and tucking her hair back, feeling a little awkward and insecure with you looking at her.

With a slight narrow of your eyes, you spun your fork between three fingers. “Can I ask you a question so I can make a better guess?”

“Sure.”

“Are you good with technology?”

“In what way?”

You clarified, “Do you know how to reset your wifi router?”

She looked up and to the side for a moment, trying to imagine what she would do if her wifi went out. “No, I don’t think I’d know how to. But I could likely figure it out on my own,” she answered, looking back at you. “And that’s far more than one question.”

“Do you teach English?”

A gentle smile formed on Wanda’s and then she nodded. “Yes.”

It wasn’t that English teachers seemed technologically unknowledgeable, but if Wanda did know how to reset her wifi router, she’d likely teach history or maybe even some kind of science. She thought that was funny. She didn’t laugh to indicate that, she told you that it was, with a little smile.

You then told Wanda what you worked as. At the moment, you were doing some research after your postgrad, hopefully to be able to do some further research abroad in preparation for… something or other. You weren’t entirely sure right now.

Wanda was actually quite soft-spoken, and a little shy. She always looked like she wanted to say something more than what she had already said, or was thinking something more and didn’t entirely know how to say it.

After you finished eating, it was you who finally brought up the budgeting although you had honestly only used it as an excuse to get to know her more. After that, it was pretty much just committee talk.

”Do you have any plans for the holidays?” you asked her as you packed up your things. You paid for lunch, since you had asked her to take time out of her day to answer your questions.

Wanda hummed as she fit her hat on then did her jacket up. “I won’t be too busy. Usually, I call my family and celebrate on my own.”

“Call them?” you repeated. “Do they live far?”

“They live in Eastern Europe.”

“Do they ever travel to visit you?”

She didn’t answer for a few moments as the both of you stepped out of the cafe. “No. They prefer not to travel. They say they’re waiting for my brother and I to save up and host them here so they can live in America. “

So, could that married guy have been her brother?

“Does your brother live in Westview?”

“No, he travels around. I don’t think he has plans to save up for them any time soon.”

You felt a little idiotic for being so invested in that man’s relation to her, and you were suddenly uninterested in talking with her any longer. After all, that guy was probably her boyfriend, and she was probably taken aback in the car the other day when you asked her about her affair.

But it shouldn’t even matter to you whether Wanda was dating anyone.

Maybe you’d suddenly become a huge ethicist during the holidays, and just subconsciously hated women who had affairs with married men.

“Well, thanks for helping me with the budgeting,” you said, turning to her once you got to your car.

Wanda looked at you first, seemingly confused for just a beat, before she looked at your car, which she recognized from the time you drove her. She realized she hadn’t really been paying attention to what she was doing; she’d only been following wherever you were going.

“Oh, yes, right.” She collected herself, brushing invisible snow from her jacket. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you next week.”

Then when you were preparing to turn and unlock your door, Wanda stepped back to leave but hesitated a little, so you figured she had something more to say.

She looked over to where her car was, then down to the ground and back to you. “Thank you for inviting me to lunch. Have a good rest of your weekend.”

By the next meeting, there was a week left until Christmas, and things were beginning to wrap up. There were only two meetings left, and the final one wasn’t set for any planning.

The final meeting, since everything had been moving ahead of schedule so far, was going to be reserved for a committee potluck, and any of the committee members could bring their friends or family as long as the volunteers were planning on bringing enough food.

No one wanted to fall behind lest they lose the date of the potluck, and so the groupchat had recently been busy with updates as groups remained on time or even ahead of time, and the present meeting was no exception.

Wanda seemed to have gotten word of how the committee heard that she was reprimanded for being behind in reports, so she made an update on all the things she’d sent to Westview’s council as confirmation to everyone and to ensure that she’d sent accurate information.

Your group was all but finished aside from needing to buy the accessories for the performers, which would just be some bracelets and Santa hats and other small things which unified them as they all performed for the same event. Kamala and America were planning on shopping for them this weekend, and would bring them to the potluck to keep them there until they were taken out of storage for Christmas Eve.

The other groups were all caught up and were just waiting on tiny things, like how the group handling the small businesses were waiting on finalized menu prices for budgeting, which would also be finished this weekend.

Rio and Agatha’s group had finished their patio designs too.

Wanda wasn’t under any impression that you purposefully came up to her at the end of every meeting, and she was more than understanding of the fact that they were just coincidences, or due to reasons that came up which required you to speak with her. It wasn’t like you wanted to.

She was sort of hoping you had a reason to speak with her this time around too, but she didn’t think you had any issues with your group or with things you needed to do for the committee like you did before.

Wanda walked out to her car, trying to accept that she wouldn’t see you again until the next major planning committee event you could attend. She wasn’t planning on going to the next meeting’s potluck, and she wasn’t planning on going to the event on Christmas Eve either. She didn’t really go to those things.

You sounded busy during the year when you explained your job to her, and who knew if you’d be in Westview for next Christmas? Not that she was any thrill to have in your company anyway; she hardly knew how to keep an interesting conversation.

She exhaled a little in the driver’s seat, slumping down into her jacket.

It wasn’t often that anyone gave her their time. She thought the way she regarded you was a little pathetic, since it was clear you saw her as your committee head and nothing more.

Wanda started her car and headed home. She would be finished with her work by tonight before the potluck, since all the other things that remained to be done didn’t involve her reports. The rest of her plans for the holidays involved buying gifts for her family and shipping them through the post. On Christmas, she’d call her parents then talk to her brother, who likely wouldn’t be in the mood to speak with them in a group call.

Then she’d celebrate New Years’ at home alone, and in January, begin a new school semester.

The day of the potluck came, and it was the first year everything had been done not only early, but as exciting as it all was; this year was imagined to be the most thrilling one so far. The blizzard had brought in inches and inches of snow which had been a pain for anyone stuck in it while it had been happening, but a dream to wake up to by the next morning once it stopped.

Westview was decorated in a winter you often saw in the movies, and everyone at the committee was in a wonderful mood.

You waited for Wanda to show up, wondering what kind of food she’d bring, and hoping to see her in a casual setting again. You wondered if she would wear her committee meeting clothes or something more comfortable. But a part of you also kind of dreaded seeing her around the married guy, whose name you found out today was Simon, because it seemed that he brought his wife to the potluck.

But by the thirty minute mark, Wanda still hadn’t shown up.

“Do you think Wanda will come?” you asked Kate.

She shook her head. “She doesn’t come to these things. She never comes on Christmas Eve either.”

“What? Really? But she’s the head of the committee. I thought she’d at least show up to the event since she put so much time into it.”

Kate hummed, thinking about that for a moment. “Yeah, I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I always just assumed she travels or something.”

You looked around at the food, thinking back on all the times pastries and other drinks were brought to the meetings, and you couldn’t recall if Wanda ever partook in them. You looked up at Simon, who was chatting away with his wife.

Some part of you imagined some grand gesture where Wanda came to the potluck though she typically didn’t attend, but you were almost entirely sure she wasn’t going to. From what you had learned about her in the last few times you spoke with her on your own together, Wanda seemed a lot more hesitant than one would guess.

You took two of the takeout boxes someone had brought in case there was going to be leftovers — and there was certainly going to be — to take to Wanda. One box was full of a normal dinner, like some of the rolls, turkey, stuffing, and mashed potatoes and gravy. Then in the other box, you packed some dessert, like cookies, pastries, and some candied fruit.

Then you made your way to her place.

Maybe she had company over, like her actual boyfriend, but in any case, you were fine just dropping the food off and handing it to her. And you didn’t want to call, because you didn’t think you were that close with her, and you didn’t want to assume she was comfortable with you calling her out of the blue.

Her car was alone in front of her place, and it didn’t look like she’d pulled out of her driveway since at least last evening given how much it’d snowed over her tire tracks.

You knocked on her door, and after a few moments the door opened, revealing Wanda in sweatpants and a thin plain black t-shirt.

“Y/N,” she firstly greeted, surprised as she pushed the door open further at the sight of you. “Did we talk about meeting?”

“No, nothing like that.” You held the two takeout boxes out. “I just thought you’d come to the potluck.”

She looked down at the boxes, reaching her hands out hesitantly to take them, then retracting her hands so they froze halfway to them. “Are these for me? What are they?” she asked, looking at you.

“It’s the food from the potluck. I brought you dinner and a bunch of dessert.”

“O-Oh, you… really didn’t have to bring me this…” she answered, her voice softening as she looked back down to the boxes and carefully took them from you. She looked back up and smiled at you. “Thank you.”

After a moment of brief silence which made you quite nervous, since it was very awkward to be standing in silence in front of Wanda, you stepped back. “Well, I’ll see you on Christmas Eve then,” you said.

She stepped forward. “Would you like to come in, Y/N?” she asked suddenly.

When you made eye contact with her again, Wanda looked down at the boxes in her hands. “I just made some coffee and I was planning on doing some reading, but…” She looked up. “I made enough for two, and I haven’t had dinner yet.”

You swallowed, feeling somewhat nervous. “If you don’t mind.”

Wanda’s shoulders straightened, her expression lightening. “I don’t mind at all. Please come in,” she invited, stepping back and allowing you to enter.

As you stepped inside and Wanda took your jacket, she took silent deep breaths as she prepared herself to have a proper conversation with you.

“So…” she started as she walked you into the kitchen, pouring you a mug of coffee. “What are you planning on doing for Christmas, Y/N?”

You stood a few feet away from Wanda as she poured you her coffee, watching her. She asked you what you liked in your coffee, and she stirred it in. She looked kind of… cute in what she was wearing. She looked kind of cute looking all domestic.

You scratched your cheek awkwardly, looking away as you answered, “Well, this year my family is coming to Westview and I’m hosting Christmas this time. So I’ve been decorating my place and thinking through some things to make for dinner.”

She carefully placed the coffee in front of you and began plating the food you brought her from the potluck.

“That sounds sweet,” she said. “I hope you enjoy hosting.”

“Do you have any Christmas traditions?”

She hummed in thought as she closed the boxes. “When I still lived with my parents, we volunteered at a soup kitchen, then came home and had late dinner. After we ate, we opened our gifts, then watched a movie as a family.”

You smiled a little as she described it.

Wanda brought her coffee and plate to the dining table, and you brought your own coffee and a platter of peppermint cookies which she said she made yesterday.

Wanda’s house was decorated with string lights, and she had a few unscented candles lit around the house. Her place smelled like cookies and a little bit of cinnamon, and you figured she must bake a lot in her freetime. In the living room, which you passed on your way to the kitchen, she had a large tree in front of the window decorated with gold, white, and pink.

It was kind of cute to imagine her decorating, and she was obviously far more festive than you thought. But then you imagined her decorating such a grand thing all on her own, and that made you feel quite bad for her. Not that you didn’t think she couldn’t — she clearly could — but the idea of someone so alone during the holidays made you ache.

“You said your parents wanted to move to America?” you asked when you sat down at the dining table. You both sat on one side of a corner, closest to each other.

She took in a breath and took a sip of coffee. “Yes, I did say that,” she answered, setting her mug down then cutting a slicing bit of turkey. “But… I honestly don’t think they’re sincerely interested in moving anywhere.”

“And your brother?”

“He moves too much,” she answered. “I had to ask him to stay in one place for a month so I could deliver a gift to his address, but he just told me to send it to a post in Berlin, and he’ll fly over if he’s not in Germany anymore to pick it up whenever it’s been delivered.”

She looked up from her plate, watching you look around her place. She swallowed, playing with her fork a little bit. The candlelight from the dining table made your face look very smooth, and very warm.

Wanda rubbed her knuckle against the back of her cheek, feeling herself flush at the sight. “Um, Y/N,” she said, looking back down at her plate and cutting a piece of turkey just to keep occupied. “I’ve been thinking…”

You looked away from her Christmas tree which you saw from a distance. It was beautiful, and Wanda truly had an eye for decorating. Even her furniture was gorgeous.

“I wanted to apologize for how I must’ve seemed to you when we first met. I mean… not how I seemed, exactly, but how I behaved…” She poked at the piece of turkey she sliced. “I’m… not very popular with the committee.”

Something fluttered in your chest, forcing you to take in a breath of air. Maybe it was guilt, or… Well, you were completely justified for how you acted around her before.

But something about watching Wanda eat at the decorated table in the middle of her dining room in her gorgeous house, and imagining her doing this every evening for dinner alone made your chest tighten.

Even in her own house, she seemed small.

“Can I ask you something kind of personal?”

She looked up from her plate, lowering her fork a little. She nodded. “Of course.”

“Are you seeing Simon?”

Wanda answered quickly, “No, I’m not seeing him.”

Before you could stop yourself from pushing too far, you added, “But he’s always flirting with you.”

She looked down at her plate again. “Yes, he’s…” She trailed off. She put her fork down and took a sip of coffee. “Simon is interested in me — of course I know that.”

“I’m just curious…” you spoke cautiously. “Why don't you see him if you know he’s flirting with you?”

“You’re asking because of his wife?”

When you blinked in response, Wanda figured you had no idea what she was talking about. She took a bite of her turkey, and after swallowing, she said, “His wife isn’t very subtle about her own affair. But I don’t think she concerns herself with what other people think of her; she’s some kind of lawyer, so she’s typically never in town.”

“You know a lot about everyone.”

To your surprise, Wanda laughed, though it was a dry one. “No. Simon just tells me.”

You nodded, taking a bite of a cookie.

Wanda looked up when you didn’t respond, and she bit the inside of her cheek. She wondered if you felt as tense as she did whenever you brought Simon up. She fidgeted with the string of her sweatpants with her other hand. She never knew whether it was ever appropriate to say the things she had in mind. Often, she hesitated between telling you what she wanted to say and staying quiet.

Swallowing, Wanda set her fork down and fidgeted with the handle of her mug. “I know it sounds terrible of me, but Simon always compliments my work as the committee head. That’s what he comes up to me after the meetings to talk about.”

“Oh,” you replied.

Still, the idea of Wanda getting all excited and romantic with some guy made you uncomfortable. It still made you upset that it frustrated you so much, and you wished you could look down on her for her questionable interactions with him, but you couldn’t help but just feel frustrated about it.

A small silence came over the two of you as Wanda looked down at her empty plate. She racked through her mind desperately for anything interesting to say.

Then she looked up and asked, “What do you think about Agatha and Rio?”

You sipped your coffee, thankful for how beautiful Wanda’s house was since it gave you any excuse not to look at her for a few moments during moments of silence. “I think they’re nice together.”

“I think they are too,” Wanda replied, adjusting her fork and knife on her plate. She wanted to cry out and bury her face in her arms. She felt so pathetic; she had no idea how to have a conversation. You probably just wanted to go home already.

Even so, she tried to keep talking with you.

“But Rio doesn’t like me very much.”

You looked over at her, recalling the time Rio called Wanda’s name loudly when she had come in forty minutes late though she had been trying to walk in subtly. “I had a feeling,” you said. “Why not?”

“I saw Agatha for a very short time, and I didn’t know she and Rio were on a break,” she explained. “Agatha told me they were on a break after she and Rio made up, but I didn’t know beforehand.”

Something about that was incredibly funny to you, because Rio and Agatha seemed inseparable, and to imagine that Wanda, of all people, had somehow gotten between them was extremely funny.

Wanda looked up from her plate, her lips parted slightly as she watched you for a moment while you laughed out loud. She felt her heart in her throat at the sight of you. She’d never seen you laugh that hard, and she didn’t think herself to be that funny.

“That must have been very awkward for you,” you said once you could speak clearly.

“Yes, it was,” Wanda answered, smiling at you a little bashfully, tracking you with her eyes as you looked down to the table then picked up your mug of coffee again.

Wanda was never really good at picking up signals from other people either. It must mean something that you were in her house and eating with her, and sitting so close, and you weren’t rushing to finish your coffee. But what next?

It had been a long while since she had any close friends, or any real friends at all, so maybe she was just misunderstanding how she felt around you. Perhaps it was normal to feel so nervous around you and attracted to you.

Should she pursue you as a friend? She didn’t know how to do even that, and she also didn’t know if you still saw her as only your committee head.

“Why did you change all those little things on our document, by the way?” you asked suddenly. “Sorry to bring committee stuff up. I’ve just been curious.”

Wanda looked a little embarrassed and she fiddled with the handle of her mug with two hands, her plate now pushed to the side. “There wasn’t anything wrong with it. I just thought I’d make a few adjustments about things that guests brought up last year,” she said.

She looked up, looking uncertain and even a little remorseful. “I hope they weren’t too much of a change. I just thought I’d try to help a little bit.”

For a moment you couldn’t imagine that this was the same Wanda who had changed major parts of the group’s planning last year just five days before Christmas Day, and then you recalled that sometimes you couldn’t believe that both Wandas you knew were the same person.

You could understand Wanda seeming much larger in the committee room and much smaller in your car and in the cafe because she was sort of scary in the meetings, and soft-spoken outside of them. But you didn’t have a clue regarding things like how she seemed to treat the committee differently this time or how she treated your group differently than previous years, since you recalled that Peter mentioned how he thought she’d been nicer.

“Not at all. I think the changes were nice.”

“Really?” she asked. The corners of her lips tugged upwards a little. “I’m glad I could help.”

Wanda put away the dishes and thanked you again for the food. She packed you some of the peppermint cookies too.

As she was walking you to the front, she watched you from behind, wondering if it was normal to bring up things that didn’t necessarily pertain to exactly what the two of you were talking about in the moment — which was to say, nothing.

Second guessing and uncertainty surrounding how she should behave or speak to you always got in the way of saying things she wanted to say.

“Y/N, thank you for thinking of me today at the potluck when I didn’t come,” she said quietly as you slipped your boots on. She played with the box of cookies in her hands. “I’m not very good with people, as you might have guessed. But…”

She trailed off and you straightened once your boots were on to look at her. “I really like spending time with you outside the meetings,” she confessed, “and I hope that we might be able to keep talking after the holidays.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling your heart race at the sight of her averted eyes and her quiet tone. You took in a breath and then spoke. “Would you like to help me wrap some gifts tomorrow?”

Wanda looked up, surprised.

“I have a bunch to wrap because I’m hosting Christmas, and some of my family members gave me money to shop for them here because they couldn't travel with too much,” you explained. “So… I’ll really need your help.”

She nodded, gripping the box a little tighter. “Of course. I’ll be there.”

That night, you and Wanda planned for what time she’d come over. She’d come around three so she could have lunch, and you offered to cook her dinner for her help. She wanted to deny the offer, but she truly couldn’t turn down the chance of having a home-cooked dinner with you at your place.

Though you were looking forward to having her over, you felt rather nervous about it all. Wanda had a gorgeous home and was likely a very talented cook as she was a talented baker, and you really didn’t want to disappoint her.

As you went through the grocery store in the afternoon after getting some last minute gifts, you decided on preparing salmon sushi baked, which you’d been wanting to try. You picked up the ingredients then headed home.

Wanda was far different from how you initially thought her to be, but she was still incredibly intelligent and responsible, and although you felt a bit awkward admitting it to yourself, she was gorgeous too, and you still didn’t entirely know the kinds of things she was thinking about you.

She had said that she wanted to see you after the holidays.

As a friend, right?

You were at least certain that she saw you as more than just a committee member.

When had you even started feeling this confused about her, anyway? It was still possible she had a boyfriend or some kind of partner in Europe where she was from.

Thinking back to things you knew about Wanda made you feel a little flustered, even things that had really pissed you off for reasons you still didn’t really understand your reactions to, like her little cozy hat and the scarf that always covered half her face, and her habit of averting her gaze when you caught her looking at you.

When Wanda arrived, she was in jeans and a light brown knit sweater, her hair done in a braid. She smiled at you when you opened the front door, and she was holding a large Christmas gift bag full of different gift wrapping designs. You realized her hair wasn’t naturally as straight as you typically saw it, because the hair was a little wavy, pulled back into the braid.

Wanda sat down on your couch as you brought her some hot chocolate, and some fruit and a little charcuterie board you put together.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling up at you as you set down the food on the coffee table. She was smiling at you more than usual since she’d arrived, and you couldn’t figure out whether you were unsettled or flattered by it.

When you sat down beside her on the couch and Wanda was taking a sip of her hot chocolate, she asked, “How was your day?”

“It was okay. I was mostly running around,” you answered. “I was getting some last minute gifts, and then I bought the things for dinner today.”

At the mention of dinner, Wanda perked up. “Oh, right. I brought something.” She set her hot chocolate down carefully then stood up to go over to her purse, where she also had her wrapping paper set. You didn’t ask her to bring anything, but she brought about four different designs from her place.

She pulled out a bottle of white wine, which looked rather expensive, and brought it over to you before sitting back down beside you. “I was thinking we might be able to have some wine with dinner.”

You carefully took the wine from her and looked it over. “Wow, Wanda, this is a really good kind,” you mused. “I think I had this last Christmas, and I loved it. Thank you.”

“I’m glad, Y/N. I had a feeling you’d like it.”

After setting it down on the coffee table, you looked over to her, only to find her still looking at you. She had a sort of pleasant look on her face. A little smile formed when you met her eyes, which looked at you with a sort of focus or analysis whose details she didn’t disclose to you.

She looked away and took a grape from the charcuterie board.

“Should we start wrapping?” you asked, solely to release the tension in your chest.

You and Wanda sat on the floor in front of your tree, the coffee table moved so you could both reach the charcuterie board and Wanda could reach her hot chocolate. The two of you decided to use the wrapping paper Wanda bought, since hers was unsurprisingly far prettier.

“So, well… I’m actually not very good at wrapping presents. I always put them in gift bags,” you confessed.

Wanda took a box of expensive chocolates and aligned it with the wrapping paper. “I’m quite good at wrapping presents,” she boasted playfully, looking up at you as she cut the paper with a pair of scissors. “I can show you how.”

The chocolate box was wrapped pristinely, and Wanda turned it around a few times in her hands to show you its sharp edges and folds. She gave it to you so you could write on the gift’s label.

“Where did you learn how to wrap so good?” you asked, taking another gift in an easy-to-wrap shape and setting it in front of your crossed legs.

“I had to do a lot of Christmas wrapping when I lived with my parents,” she explained. She stood up suddenly and took a seat beside you. She repositioned the gift in front of your legs and aligned it with the wrapping paper.

Between explaining how to wrap gifts to you and explaining how she learned while wrapping her own alongside you for you to follow her through example, she spoke while you listened.

“My brother and I also wrapped gifts for the soup kitchen I mentioned before,” she explained, her eyes darting between your gift and hers to make sure you were following along properly. “We wrapped so many, so I think I just got better at it over time.”

You spoke a bit slowly since you were focusing. “How long did you volunteer there?”

“I think about…” Wanda paused to think, then reached out to move your hand with her own. “Fold this underneath, not over. Keep it against the box,” she instructed.

When you looked up at her after correcting yourself, she nodded, letting go of your hand as your fingers pressed the paper against the box. “Yes, just like that,” she said.

Then she continued, “I think we volunteered there for about eight years.”

You and Wanda spoke back and forth as you wrapped gifts together for about an hour, sitting cross-legged side by side beside your Christmas tree.

“Do you miss your family?” you asked at one point.

Wanda hummed as she taped some paper down. “My brother and I were very close,” she said. “I do miss him. I sometimes feel resentful that he hasn’t taken any time to come see me, but I understand that he’s always felt very trapped around family growing up. He was far more ambitious and impulsive than I ever was.”

You noticed she didn’t mention anything about her parents.

“When did you both move out?”

“Pietro moved out when he was eighteen. He took up jobs wherever he travelled, and he’s always been a spirited and friendly person, so I hear he’d been able to make fast friends no matter where he landed.”

You noticed that Wanda typically avoided talking about herself when she had the chance to talk about anyone else, especially when it had to do with her family.

Sliding your last gift away under the tree after labeling it and turning your body to face Wanda with hers, you asked, “What about you?”

“I left much later, when I was twenty five. I studied to become a teacher here in America after finishing my undergrad there,” she answered, keeping her eyes on the final gift she was wrapping.

She finished the gift and slid it over to you. You labelled it then placed it on top of another gift.

“Wow. They all look great,” you said, standing up and taking a step back to look. “Thank you for your help. I couldn’t have done any of it without you.”

You looked down at Wanda, who was staring at the tree and the gifts in some oddly sentimental way. You reached a hand down to her, and the movement from the corner of her eye broke her focus. She looked up at you with a grateful smile then took it and stood up.

Wanda opened the wine so the two of you could start drinking as you began to cook together.

This was your first year out of school and you’d been working throughout it without even really getting a chance to settle it in.

This Christmas season, you’d been doing a whole lot of meeting with people from Westview, and it was all incredibly fun. You felt like a college student again, surrounded by older Westview neighbours, doing fun group assignments, and worrying about travelling to meetings in the weather.

But while you were cooking with Wanda, your place finally felt lived in for the first time since you moved to Westview.

It was nice to fit in, but it was nicer to be home.

“So… Can I ask if you have kids? Or, like… some wild crazy ex-husband story that would be interesting to tell?”

Wanda’s eyebrows raised over the rim of her glass as she took a sip. “Goodness,” she said, setting the glass down. “Do I really look that old?”

“No, no,” you assured, waving your salmon-coated hands in front of you. She picked up a piece of salmon from the counter that had flung off from your finger and placed it in the glass dish that was nearly set to go into the oven.

She watched you with a little smile, her cheeks warm from the wine as you flattened the salmon across the rice, thinking of a different way to form your question.

“Then… Do you have a boyfriend?” you asked, looking up after a moment, meeting her eyes innocently.

“No,” she answered. “I’m a lesbian.”

You blinked, partially surprised, and then feeling a little competitive. If she had a girlfriend, things would be totally different, for some reason.

As if she could read your mind, she added, “But I’m not seeing anyone, and I don’t have an ex-wife or any children.”

It was most certainly the wine that was making the both of you feel a little bolder, otherwise you wouldn’t have asked her about whether she was seeing anyone, and she wouldn’t have seen your slightly flushed expression and thought to take the opportunity to tease you.

“Do you have a partner, Y/N?” she asked, picking up her glass again.

“No,” you answered earnestly. “I’ve been too busy to think about those things.”

She hummed at your answer, pouring a little more wine into her glass then topping yours off too. You washed your hands and put the salmon bake into the oven.

“You’re not interested in anyone in your group?” she asked.

“Um…” You frowned a little at the thought, not because you were thinking about it, but because it was a strange thing to suggest. “No — no one there.”

Wanda would be lying if she said she didn’t think of placing you in that group because she wanted to see how you and Kate got along, amongst other reasons that were far less important now. She wanted to figure out if you liked girls, and Wanda figured she and Yelena had broken up since she stopped coming to meetings. But your answer wasn’t indicative of anything, so she figured she’d just never know.

You set a timer on the oven and stood in front of Wanda, who’d been leaning her hip on the counter watching you after she cut the salmon and laid the seasoned rice out into the dish.

“I guess I didn’t really think the rest of the night through,” you said sheepishly after taking a sip of wine. “What do you want to do?”

“Would you like to just talk at your dining table?” Wanda offered with a little smile.

You and Wanda sat very close to each other, with the table’s edge between the two of you like it had when you were at her place. Except, her knee brushed against yours under the table with how close she was sitting.

You said something that made Wanda laugh, and she crossed her legs on top of your dining room chair. Her cheeks were flushed a soft pink, and she kept leaning closer to you.

Wanda had been worrying about the upcoming evening all day, wondering what kinds of things people talked about when they wrapped gifts together.

Then she wondered again about how you regarded her; you didn’t invite just anyone to your place, much less to do something as casual as wrapping gifts.

She’d actually Googled the kinds of things people did at these things, but she couldn’t find anything very good for what to say or do during gift wrapping activities, or even find anything for the specific occurrence.

She’d even tried to search up how people advanced from a professional relationship to a more intimate one. She got some great tips on that from a website called Reddit — share more about your personal life, indicate with body language to express willingness for physical closeness, and maintain eye contact sometimes.

Well, Wanda would say that it was all going quite well. She felt like a great socializer, and you seemed to be picking up on all her hints that she wanted to be closer to you.

“I’m really sorry to ask, but I’m just curious,” you apologized, prefacing your next question as the two of you settled back down at the table, salmon bake now freshly out of the oven and on the dining table.

Wanda was serving the pieces onto a plate after the both of you sprinkled fresh seaweed on top. “Don’t apologize,” she said. ”Ask me anything.”

“Are you close with your parents?”

The tension that often came over Wanda when you asked personal questions hadn’t seemed to come over her the entire time she was over. Instead, she would react with a familiar pensive silence where she looked like she was thinking something over before answering.

“Not very close, no,” she answered. “My parents were very strict and very controlling of my brother and I. Pietro moved out the moment he could, and I stayed to complete my education and support them.”

“I see,” you said, taking a bite of your dinner.

Before you could say how good it was, Wanda exclaimed with a hand over her partially-full mouth, “This is amazing. You’re a wonderful cook, Y/N.” Her cheeks were a little stuffed as she chewed and her hair had been loosened from her braid, showing more of the natural waves of her hair.

You had wanted to agree, but got a little distracted watching her, so after she swallowed another bite, she added, “I worked as a teacher’s aid through my undergrad and worked a lot outside of school to support my family. I still send them money frequently. I think my brother does the same, but we don’t talk very much about them. I’ve always been much closer to him.”

“May I ask you something personal too?” she asked. She looked up from her plate to look at you, and you nodded when you noticed she was waiting for visual confirmation.

She hummed a little, as if she were trying to select a good one.

Then she asked, “Do you like women?”

The question surprised you and you weren’t sure whether you should laugh as if it were a joke. Your cheeks flushed at the idea of Wanda imagining you with a woman. But she didn’t seem to catch onto your embarrassment, even as she watched your face with focus.

You decided to answer simply given how nonchalantly Wanda was looking at you. “Yes.”

Then Wanda took a sip of her wine, looking at you still.

“Okay,” she replied, smiling a little. “Have you dated recently?”

“Um…” You thought about that for a moment, then looked back at her. “No. I think it’s been about two years since my last relationship. What about you?”

Wanda swallowed another bite of her food. “I was with one of my coworkers when I first started working at the school for a few months.”

“Wow. How did that go?”

“It was a very bad idea.”

She looked up from her plate when you laughed, and Wanda couldn’t help but giggle thinking back at the absurd circumstances, which she discussed in more detail with you after you asked about it.

After dinner, you and Wanda decided that it wasn’t a good idea for her to drive home because of how she still felt a little tipsy, but it was late, and you didn’t want to keep her from going home, and you didn’t trust yourself to drive either.

But because of how occupied the two of you had become inside, neither of you had paid attention to another snowstorm that seemed to have been going on for at least forty minutes.

“Do you think an Uber will come?” she asked, looking up from her phone with the weather app open and through the window in your living room, which you were also looking through while standing beside her.

“Ah… I don’t know,” you answered, sounding a little preoccupied as you looked outside. “The snow’s got some inches up your tires…”

Wanda looked at you, biting the inside of her cheek as she watched your deep focus. “Is it okay that I stay for longer? I don’t want to keep you up.”

“It’s really okay,” you said, stepping back from the window. “Please stay.”

The weather app said that the storm wouldn’t stop until later in the evening, so the plan was for you to stay up with Wanda until it died down. Maybe by then, you could shovel the driveway for her ride. Otherwise, she was alright with sleeping over.

The two of you were sitting on your couch, the television on but paused about five minutes into a Christmas movie before one of you paused it for some forgotten reason, and became distracted in conversation moving forward.

Wanda was wearing some of your extra clothes, and you’d changed into something more comfortable too. She had undone her hair from her braid, and you thought she looked beautiful with her hair unstraightened. The two of you were drinking hot chocolate again after finishing off the wine, exchanging stories and talking about random things.

Then, as you looked over at the television, partly in deep thought about something you had just been talking about and the other part wondering if you should play the movie again, Wanda looked over your face, sitting with her knees up against her stomach, her body facing you.

“Y/N, can I tell you something honestly?” she asked.

She thought back to the advice she read online — to become closer with someone, you should try being more honest about things to show that you were open to sharing your real thoughts and feelings.

“Sure,” you replied, turning back to her.

“I think you’re very attractive.”

Sometimes Wanda had a habit of asking questions or saying things which surprised you, in a tone that was entirely nonchalant. But often, when you looked at her expression and found that she was asking seriously or casually, you were able to gauge how to respond without seeming as flustered as you did — like when she asked if you liked women.

But this time, she herself seemed flustered too.

She brushed her cheek against her upper arm which was wrapped around her knees as you looked at her. “I’m sorry if that was a strange thing to say,” she said quietly, seeming hesitant to look away from you, but eventually looking back over at the paused movie.

Perhaps she was also thinking about playing it again, hoping to forget about what she said.

“Wanda,” you said quietly, getting her attention again.

When she looked at you, her eyes meeting yours and looking a little nervous, you said, “You’re really, really beautiful.”

Wanda’s hands tightened around her elbows, and she had the urge to hide her face. She didn’t want to, because she wanted to take the compliment well and say something kind in return, but her cheeks felt flushed and warm and she didn’t want to smile as wide as she felt she wanted to.

Against her better wishes, she buried her flushed face in her arms, which were still wrapped around her knees. “You’re saying that to be kind, yes?” she asked, her voice meek, lifting her head and looking at you. “I read that sometimes people mirror others to seem friendlier.”

You only shook your head in response, and Wanda looked at you, trying to figure what to do with what you told her, her internal thoughts a downright mess.

Wanda imagined what would happen if she decided to stay quiet, like she normally did when she didn’t know what to say, or when she worried that she wasn’t reading social cues well enough to speak within the right context.

Maybe you might have lunch with your committee after the holidays, and realize that Kate was entirely your type. Maybe you would meet someone doing the same kind of research as you did in your postgrad at work. Maybe you’d stop staying in Westview, and start staying with your future girlfriend if she lived outside of town, and she’d never see you again.

“Can you kiss me? Please?” she asked suddenly, letting go of her legs and straightening.

Like a soldier acting on command, you reached over to her, ending up on your knees with one hand on the couch to steady yourself to meet her lips with yours. Your other hand rested on her knee, and Wanda took it, tugging you closer so you could move on top of her as she began to lean backwards.

You slotted yourself between her parted legs, her thighs closing against your hips, holding you in place. Her hands slid under your shoulders and laid against your upper back, keeping you close as your lips moved against each other.

The little noises that came from her made you want to touch her in the most delicate way you could. You kissed her slowly, and she liked that speed. She shuddered when your tongue traced the bottom of her upper lip, and she immediately parted her lips for you.

She rolled her hips upward when your tongue entered her mouth, the tip of her own running along the side of yours, like a gentle greeting, before your tongue swirled around her own slowly.

You parted from her lips to take a breath, and through hooded eyes you saw Wanda’s slightly open mouth, her lips glistening, before you leaned down and tucked your face into her neck. She whispered your name shakily, tipping her head to the side as your tongue flattened itself and ran up to the edge of her jaw.

Unsure if she was alright with you leaving marks, you gently suckled at points of her neck instead, nipping at her skin close to her neck. You felt the vibrations of her soft noises against your lips.

One of Wanda’s hands moved down your lower back and tugged lightly at the waistband of your pajama pants. “Can I take it off?”

You lifted your head from her neck and nodded, reaching down to help her, and lifting yourself up onto your knees to readjust your positions.

“Can you get on your back?” she asked, sitting up and removing her legs from between your knees.

Wanda took the remote and set it down on the floor so you wouldn’t lay on it. She got on top of you, between your parted legs.

You kissed differently when she was on top. It was hard to explain, but you could feel it. She wasn’t necessarily slower, but she was careful and deliberate, your lips moving together as if to feel one another rather than doing so with the explicit intention to kiss.

Your arm was wrapped around her waist, your hand pressed against the side of her stomach, feeling her shirt lift slightly as she moved, warm skin under your fingers.

She teased your nipple through your shirt in a way that made your body jerk slightly, the side of her finger grazing over it until it hardened and became sensitive. The pad of her thumb drew circles against it.

The noises she made sounded more of satisfaction than pleasure as you whimpered beneath her, your body arching beneath her as she continued to tease your nipples.

“Can I push your shirt up?” she asked, having to part from your lips to ask. You nodded immediately, lifting your back a bit while Wanda straightened so she could push your shirt above your chest.

The position you were in was a rather vulnerable one, and made you feel more exposed than if you had just taken the shirt off. Her eyes darted between your breasts, before leaning back down, closer to you.

Her eyes were still on your chest, and your shirt, bunched up close to your neck, obscured your view of her hands. Her finger teased at one nipple delicately, and you could figure that it was quickly stiffening based on a low noise Wanda made.

She leaned her head down and wrapped her lips around it, sucking gently, her tongue rhythmically moving back and forth across the very tip of it and drawing soft moans out of you.

Wanda paid such close attention to how her little ministrations were affecting you, and the speed of everything she was doing was perfect. She rubbed the tip of her tongue at just the right slow and teasing speed against your nipples, knew just when to pinch them between her thumb and index finger.

You couldn’t even remember the last time someone had such a fixation on your nipples, let alone been able to make you feel this good while stimulating just them.

She moved up and kissed you again, and the feeling of her shirt against your chest made you kiss her teasing. “Do you like when I play with your nipples?” she asked against your lips. “I can tell they’re very sensitive.”

You nodded immediately.

“Would you like more?”

“Yes, please,” you practically sighed out in desperation. You sat up a little to take your shirt off to make it easier, and Wanda helped you get it over your head before placing it on the floor.

She returned to teasing your buds, alternating between wrapping her lips around them, pressing gentle kisses to them, or rubbing her tongue against them. The pads of her fingers were gentle, careful to touch them right at their tips, which made you jerk upwards the most.

At this point, you had practically been rolling your hips up against her for several moments straight, desperate for friction against your core.

Wanda released your nipple from her mouth, watching your face as her fingers grazed across your clothed slit. She could feel the contours of your pussy against the pads of her fingers. She was so careful, and so delicate.

She applied pressure steadily, rubbing up and down your slit, rubbing up the mound of your clit’s hood. She pressed into the empty space, feeling how easily your folds slid against the fabric of your panties — you must’ve already been rather wet.

Her finger hooked around the waistband of your underwear and you reached down and tried to help her take it off. She repositioned herself to pull your panties off.

Your legs immediately parted for her and you watched as her eyes ran over your legs and thighs and then your cunt, your heart racing at the steady eyes you knew so well now focused on your pussy.

One of your legs was partially dangling from the couch, while the other was bent, the side of your knee resting against the couch’s back cushion — you were entirely exposed to her.

Wanda moved closer, unbending your knee and wrapping your leg around her hips so she could fit in between your legs. Her one hand placed itself on the couch by your hip.

Curious fingers parted your folds carefully and you felt yourself flutter around nothing, a shudder running up your body. Two cool fingers rubbed slow circles against your pussy, so slow that you could hear the noises your cunt was making.

“You’re so wet, Y/N,” Wanda said, her voice gentle and soothing. She spoke it as if narrating a fact rather than trying to intentionally talk dirty to you. “Your pussy is so soft. I wish you could see the way you look when I rub you this slow. The way you’re coating my fingers…”

She took her bottom lip between her teeth.

With the same two fingers, she parted your folds, watching your opening flutter for her.

Wanda adjusted her posture, straightening her back and leaning forward to shift her weight onto her other hand. With one finger first, she slid into your opening, a satisfied noise leaving her at the feeling of how you wrapped around her middle finger.

“This is one finger,” she told you, looking up at your face. You nodded in confirmation.

You clenched around her immediately, soft whimpers escaping you as Wanda began her rhythm, slow and intentional. She curled her finger upwards, applying light pressure against your g-spot.

At the upward bucking of your hips, she straightened her finger inside of you and began to pick up speed.

Wanda watched your back arch and your hips twitch upwards. She adjusted her speed and how hard she thrusted her fingers into you based on how much your hips chased her, or how much you pulled away or fluttered around her.

Her eyes moved down from your face to your heaving chest, and she shifted her weight onto her heels so she could reach out with her other hand and grope one of your breasts.

“Another finger,” you pleaded, reaching down to loosely wrap your fingers around her hand. She pulled out and reentered with two, adding her ring finger.

As you adjusted to the size, evidently enjoying it much more for how you moaned out, gripping at the edge of the couch, Wanda experimented with her speed again, and tried thrusting her fingers in a little harsher.

“Does that feel good?” she asked.

“G-Good,” you stuttered in response.

At your whimpers and your arching back, Wanda figured she found the perfect rhythm. She maintained it, then began teasing your nipples again.

The double stimulation was far too much, and your leg wrapped around Wanda tighter. Your heel began to press into her lower back, so you set your foot down on the couch to avoid hurting her.

“You feel so nice, Y/N,” Wanda said, practically cooing for how delicately she was speaking. “You’re so warm and soft. When I curl my fingers right here…” She curled them, pressing the pads of them against your g-spot, eliciting a whine out of you. “You fit around my fingers perfectly.”

She began to enter you each time with a delicate curl of her fingers, rubbing against the spot you loved.

You panted, your hips lifting from the couch slightly as you felt yourself begin to tighten around Wanda’s fingers. She let go of your breast and wrapped a hand around the side of your waist, steadying you.

“A-Ah, I’m gonna co-ome,” you stuttered.

“Come for me, Y/N,” Wanda cooed. She looked down at you, biting down on her bottom lip as she watched your face contort in pleasure, listening to your whines mesh with your pants.

She maintained the speed you liked, until she felt you squeeze around her fingers, a cry leaving you while Wanda looked down at your body, feeling her mouth go dry at what she was seeing and at how much she loved feeling you around her fingers.

You were younger than her, but Wanda never thought about your age difference very much when she spent her time with you. But you looked much younger below her as she watched you orgasm, listening to your delicate whimpers as you came down from your release.

Wanda slipped out of you slowly when your hips fell back down to the couch, missing the warm squeeze of your walls. She wrapped her lips around her fingers, savouring you slowly, her tongue sliding around her slick fingers.

Then she moved on top of you, leaning down to kiss your lips. Her hand caressed your cheek, and you felt the remnants of her saliva rub against the corner of your jaw. She parted from you and buried her head in the crook of your neck, and you helped her position herself so she was laying on top of you, on your chest.

She turned her face upwards, kissing your neck chastly.

“You’re so good at that,” you said after you caught your breath in silence, Wanda having closed her eyes as she laid on top of you. Your hand was tucked under her shirt, rubbing her bare side.

With a flush of her cheeks and a repressed giggle, Wanda turned her face to rub against your chest. “Thank you.”

You untucked your hand from under her shirt and lifted it to her upper arm to play with the ends of her hair. Then you raised your hand to the side of her head, your fingers intertwining themselves into her hair, massaging her scalp gently.

Feeling the stark contrast from the present in comparison to when you first met her, you confessed honestly, “I actually really disliked you when we first met.” You avoided using the word ‘hate,’ because sometimes Wanda took your words very literally.

Wanda opened her eyes, looking up at you from your shoulder. “I know,” she said. “I figured you did.”

“But I thought I was just being overdramatic,” you added, “so I never talked about it with anyone, in case I would say things I regretted or if I figured I was just being confused.”

She wrapped her arm around your torso a bit tighter.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I gave you a hard time on purpose.”

“Why on purpose?”

Wanda looked back down at your chest, her hand rubbing against your side slowly. “At first, I felt a little awkward. I thought you were very attractive, and I knew you were younger than me,” she explained. Her fingers drew shapes against your skin, fidgeting slightly as she confessed what she regarded was embarrassing.

“Then you got along so well with the committee — far more than I ever had after volunteering for three years. And I knew you didn’t like me very much, and I also knew that if you spoke about it, you’d certainly speak with others who didn’t.”

Then she added quietly, “And I didn’t know how to speak with you; I don’t know how to speak with anyone. And when you drove me home during the blizzard, I felt very awkward. I didn’t know what I should say.”

You thought about that for a moment, and you realized that Wanda genuinely felt insecure about her struggles with socializing, and often behaved with hostility due to her inability to blend in well with others or figure out how to act in social situations.

“I didn’t think of you like that at all,” you said. “I only didn’t like you because you ran the committee like a dictator, not because I figured you had a hard time talking with people.”

“Really?” she asked, lifting her head to look at you. “I thought I stuck out like a sore thumb.”

You shook your head. “Kate said you didn’t typically come to events like the one downtown on Christmas Eve because she figured you travelled, and I just thought you were very different outside of the committee. I wanted to know more about you.”

Wanda felt her cheeks flush, and she swallowed. “You wanted to know more about me? Even after I was terrible to you?”

“You weren’t terrible to me, Wanda.”

She looked away, feeling a little awkward. You reached out and cupped her cheek supportively, your thumb brushing over the traces of the freckles by her nose that you’d noticed the first day you met her. She looked back at you, smiling at your supportive gesture.

“The day you drove me back, I told you all those things that I heard from other volunteers,” she said. “But no one really tells me those things. They don’t speak with me socially.”

“So… You just made it up?”

“No, I didn’t make it up,” she answered. She averted her eyes. “I didn’t know how to compliment you…”

You smiled at her shy demeanor. You rubbed your thumb against her cheek again, and Wanda re-met your eyes. “I don’t think you seem awkward, Wanda. You don’t stick out like a sore thumb,” you told her.

Wanda always had a very difficult time with eye contact, but she liked being looked at by you. She replied softly, “You’re the only one who thinks that.”

“Do you want to know what I think?”

Her smile widened at the sound of your playful tone.

“What?” she asked.

“I think…” You sat up, and Wanda slipped from your chest, sitting back into your lap as you reached down and put your shirt back on. “I think that we should go upstairs so I don’t have to be the only one without my underwear on.”

“I can take them off now,” she offered, shifting herself on her lap to slip the pajama pants you gave her off.

You placed your hands on hers to keep her from undressing, and you stood up from the couch. “No, I mean, I want to have sex upstairs,” you explained.

“Ah,” she replied, feeling a little silly for misunderstanding, a smile forming on her face. She quickly stood up after you and followed you up the stairs. Her eyes kept darting down to your naked lower half below your oversized shirt, her heart racing at the sight of you, and at the act of following you upstairs.

She sped up a little to walk beside you.

You wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling you against her so you could kiss her. Wanda moaned softly into your mouth. She tugged at your shirt, encouraging you to pull her to your bed.

You unwrapped your arm from her waist, placing both hands on your hips and keeping her against you. Wanda felt herself ache at how you handled her, and she carefully stepped back as you led her towards your bed.

She took a seat at the edge, your lips parting.

The two of you spoke about using a strap, and you showed her the size you had. She held the harness up while you inserted it, then the two of you put it to the side on the bed as Wanda moved back onto your bed.

Your lips met again, Wanda parting her legs for you to position herself between. You felt her reach down to take her shirt off and you straightened to help her.

She didn’t seem to receive as much pleasure when you teased her nipples as she did when she was doing it to you. She preferred for you to be closer to her, with your lips on hers or against her neck.

Her hands tucked themselves under your shirt, running up the curve of your back. She pulled your shirt over your head and pulled you down to her. Her breasts were soft against your chest and you flushed at the sight of the soft flesh against your body.

You practically whimpered as you looked down at them, one hand massaging her gently, Wanda whimpering softly as you did.

“You like them?” she cooed from beneath you, watching with rapt attention as your eyes looked down at her chest. She arched her back up and pushed herself into your palm, your hand full of her soft breast, her nipple stiffening under your contact.

After responding with a useless, distracted noise, Wanda cradled the back of your head with her hand and brought you down to her neck, where you sucked gently at her collarbone first before travelling up to her jawline.

Her pleasured sighs made you ache once more between your thighs, and you could feel Wanda begin to roll her hips up against you. Her leg wrapped around your hips and she pulled you closer.

Instead, you repositioned yourself to slide a thigh between her legs, making contact with her clothed core. Wanda immediately began rolling herself down against you, whiny moans coming from her. You bent your thigh forward, applying further pressure to her clit.

Her eyebrows furrowed together at the sudden attention, and she opened her eyes to look for where the strap was placed. “Please, now,” she begged.

Wanda eagerly took her pants and underwear off as you stepped off the bed and stepped into the harness. She swallowed at the sight of you, and she laid back down, her legs spread for you and her hands gripping onto the blankets, feeling a hummingbirds’ heart thrumming in her chest.

It had been a while since Wanda last had sex.

She was more heartbroken over Agatha than she preferred to let on; for her, it had been a short fling on a break, while Wanda had sincerely liked her and enjoyed the intimacy. When she discussed it with you the time you came over to her place, it had been the first time she thought about it without feeling inadequate for serving as some temporary fling.

It wasn’t just that it had been a while that made her feel a thrum of both excitement and nerves, but also that she couldn’t remember the last time she felt so attached to someone she was about to sleep with. She wanted to do well for you, and she wanted you to feel a connection with her.

You coated the strap with lube before setting it down on the nightstand and meeting her warm pussy with your fingers.

A small whine escaped Wanda at the contact.

You looked up at her.

“Are you feeling nervous?” you asked.

She nodded.

You lowered yourself over her, your fingers still rubbing softly against her warm folds. She made little noises, gripping into the sheets.

“We don’t have to,” you told her, removing your fingers. “It’s okay if you’d like to go to bed, if you would rather that.”

Wanda shook her head adamantly and placed her hands on your sides, pulling you against her.

“I want you,” she assured.

Then, when she felt like she might go silent again like she normally did when she wasn’t sure what to say, she confessed, “I want you to feel connected to me, and… I don’t want you to be bored of me. After this.”

“Wh…” You lifted yourself up, your weight shifting onto your hand by her head to get a better view of her. “Why would I feel bored of you?”

“I want to spend time with you. I still want to see you even if you ever leave the committee, and even after the holidays when we both get busy. Sometimes, I still can’t tell if you like to see me just because you’re free over the holidays,” she explained.

She added quietly, “I don’t want you to… leave me for someone you like more.”

You completely sat up, leaning back against your heels. Wanda sat up a little against your pillows and headboard.

You took her hand. “No, Wanda, I really, really like you. Outside of the committee, and outside of… of the holidays.“

That made Wanda giggle a little, her hand brought up to her mouth. She felt her stomach filled with butterflies at the direct confession.

“You really like me, Y/N?”

With a poorly-repressed grin, you climbed on top of her again and added a little more lube to yourself, your hand wrapped around your strap. “I like you so much, Wanda,” you whispered against her temple.

You heard another giggle from her before you delved into her neck, your fingers drawing circles against her core. You entered and exited her shallowly, steadily pushing yourself further into her with one finger with every gentle entry. The length of your finger slid against her clit with every stroke.

“Tell me when,” you said, speaking against her neck, curling your finger slightly with every slow entry, trying to see if you could gauge the speed she liked.

“I want you now,” she sighed, her hand moving down to find your harness, pulling you against her hips. She let out a desperate whimper when your strap grazed against her core.

Wanda liked it in the same way she liked kissing you. Your speed was steady, and she took your entire length with her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you in so you met her skin with an echoing slap. Then she loosened the tension so you could pull back, before pulling you back in, lifting her hips slightly so she could meet you with the intensity she wanted.

The speed allowed for her moans to be low and genuine, communicating what she couldn’t with words in little noises and sighs.

You reached over her head to grip the headboard so you could meet her hips without the pressure of her legs. Wanda whined loudly, reaching up to wrap her hand around your bicep as she arched her back up against you.

She whimpered your name, her thighs squeezing against your hips.

“Y-Yes, like that,” she panted. “Ah, Y/N, I’m…”

“Fuck, you take me so well, Wanda,” you encouraged.

Wanda whimpered at your praise and she came not a moment after, crying out into your shoulder, her hand squeezing your bicep when your hips met hers with a slightly more forceful impact as she reached her peak.

Her thighs loosened from around your hips and she groaned, breathing out with a huff. Her hand remained gripping your bicep loosely.

Wanda caught her breath while you laid beside her, rubbing her hip. You kissed her face gently and then the top of her head, and played with her hair.

“Do you want water?” you asked her.

“Please,” she replied, opening her eyes and looking at you with a little smile.

A few moments later you came back with a glass of water, handing it to her after she sat up. “Thank you,” she said, shuffling closer to you as you drank from your own.

After she set it down, she looked at you with a smile, as if expectantly.

You exhaled a laugh into your glass then set it down, wiping the water that had splashed onto your cheek. “What?”

After some giggling in which Wanda bashfully asked to go again, the two of you switched positions.

Wanda turned onto all fours and you held onto her hips, positioning yourself against her opening. She pushed herself back slightly, and you watched as her opening hugged your tip. She let out a soft whimper.

Everywhere you touched Wanda, your bare skin brushed against hers. When you looked at her, you could see every form her naked body took, how it curved and bent and folded. Her skin was cool to the touch and easily warmed.

The bed squeaked beneath the two of you in tandem with your hips meeting her ass in rhythmic slaps, and it didn’t take Wanda long to lower herself, unable to hold herself up. She laid on top of your pillows, moaning out as you kept the steady pace she liked.

You sped up slightly and Wanda whined into your pillow.

“Do you like it when I do that?”

“Nngh, s-so good,” she groaned. She slipped her hand beneath her torso and massaged her breast.

You reached forward and wrapped a hand around the side of her waist to hold her in place. Your other hand moved her hand out of the way, and you groped her breast before flicking at her hardened nipple.

Wanda held onto your wrist, her body jerking forward with each one of your thrusts. The headboard hit lightly against the wall in the same tempo as Wanda’s tiny whimpers, muffled by your blankets.

With this position, it was far easier to thrust against her with a little more intensity, although with the same speed.

“Is this too rough?” you asked.

“A little…”

You let go of her breast and placed both hands on her hips, slowly lowering her so she was mostly laying flat. Her back was arched enough so that she was angled up against you, her ass slotting against the curve of hips.

This way, your range of motion was centered closer to her body.

“Is this better?” you asked, speaking softly now that your torso was entirely against her back.

She nodded, reaching back for your hand. You let go of your hip and interlaced your hands with hers, holding it above her head, her other gripping at the bed sheets.

“Faster…” she muttered against your pillows.

You sped up, your hips meeting her ass eagerly, egged on by listening to her moans so close to your ear.

From behind, you buried your face in her neck, kissing and suckling gently at the soft skin. You bit down lightly on her shoulder to see how she would react, and you were rewarded with a whiny moan and a squeeze of your hand.

“Pull my hair,” she told you.

You let go of her breast and took a handful of her hair, pulling it back, her noises now unmuffled from your pillows. Her hair was so soft. You were sure not to lose your grip.

“Wanda, you’re doing so good,” you whispered. “You sound so fucking hot.”

She whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Mmm, Y/N…” She turned her head and met your eyes. “Am I being a good girl?”

Your mouth went dry and you felt like you were melting on top of her. Then you realized it made an incredible amount of sense that Wanda would be into being praised.

With the way she was underneath your body, her hand squeezing around yours, and her hair tightened in your other, the blissed out look Wanda gave you through her hooded eyes made you completely speechless.

You leaned in and kissed her, and Wanda immediately parted her lips. The kiss was messy for how often the two of you had to part to take breaths and exhale, panting into each other’s open months, tongues swirling around each other, grazing against smooth teeth, teasing at swollen lips.

“That’s right, my good girl. Take it just like that,” you grunted softly. “You deserve this, Wanda. You’ve been so good… Working so hard.”

Wanda whimpered, feeling even a little emotional at your words. Her lips were parted and her tongue was stuck out slightly, waiting for you as you spoke against her lips, her breath hot.

You tightened your hand around her hair. “You look so pretty taking it, princess. You make me feel so good when you sound like that.”

“I’m gonna come,” she whimpered.

You maintained your speed so you could ensure she took you in deeply, taking your entire length each time, burying yourself inside of her. Wanda cried out at the depth, throwing her head back further and allowing you to readjust her grip on her hair.

In broken noises, she whined, “Aa-ah, I’m coming, I’m com-”

Wanda’s words were interrupted as a long, loud cry left her parted lips, she let go of your hand, reaching up and helplessly grasping against your headboard, fingers pressing into the solid surface as she came.

When she came down, her hand slipped from it, and you let go of her hair carefully, letting her catch her breath as you slowly pulled out of her.

You unfastened the strap from around your hips, setting it to some corner of your bed before laying down beside Wanda’s panting, tired body. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted. Her hair was a mess where you had been pulling it, and her body trembled with the post-tremors of her orgasm.

Your arm wrapped around her waist and Wanda immediately shifted, lifting herself up so she could bury herself against your front. Her arm wrapped around your torso, and she laid her head on the bicep of your other arm.

She breathed out deeply, and you felt her entire body loosen and relax in your arms.

When you pressed a kiss to her forehead, you saw the glimpse of her flustered smile before she buried her face in your chest. “You’re so gentle, Y/N,” she whispered. “That felt so good…”

“How couldn’t I be gentle with you?”

You unwrapped your arm from her waist and combed your fingers through her hair, smoothing it out and fanning it out against your pillows.

“Can I sleep here with you?” she asked, looking up from your chest.

You smiled down at her, and her eyes darted down to your lips, smiling a little in response when she picked up that you thought her question was a little funny. But you couldn’t even poke fun at her. She just looked so small in your arms, looking up and asking to sleep beside you.

“Of course. I want you to stay here with me,” you answered, moving your hand from her hair to cup her cheek. “I’ll get us some new pajamas.”

“Okay,” she answered, beaming up at you and asking for a little kiss before you went to dig through your wardrobe.

A few days later, you and Wanda decided to go to the Christmas Eve event downtown. It was both of your first times there, and Wanda felt rather nervous to go. You had no idea she thought so frequently about how others thought about her; you knew she was insecure about how she behaved, but not regarding how others viewed her.

She told you that she had considered attending many times before, but worried that people would see her attending and think she shouldn’t be there, and so she figured she ought to just do what was expected of her.

She was still rather nervous as she attended with you, but your presence reassured her in the first few minutes you were there. After a few minutes, Wanda became easily amused and was quickly beginning to have a lot of fun. She mentioned all the planning that had come up behind the scenes at things you passed together, and you couldn’t help but smile at how excited she was getting.

You had both said that you didn’t want to be too open about seeing each other right away, so in case the two of you might be seen by other committee members, you agreed on keeping intimate physical contact to a minimum while you were out. It was Wanda who had the hardest time remembering that.

Sometimes you couldn’t help but wrap your arm around her when she got excited — she was too cute. She took a bunch of photos with you, and you took many of her on her own. You took dozens of photos of her while she wasn’t looking too; she looked like a kid experiencing Christmas for the first time.

Because you had convinced her to come, she paid for your hot chocolates and macaroni and cheese. But you paid for the churros and dulce de leche dip, because you were far more interested in trying it than she was.

The two of you stayed for a few of the performances, because Wanda hadn’t ever actually seen any of the bands they partnered with play. The two of you sat with your hot chocolates, Wanda holding the mac and cheese while you held the long churro stick.

“They’re so good, Y/N…!” Wanda whispered to you excitedly.

You laughed, and Wanda continued to look onwards with rapt attention.

As you were leaving, the two of you passed Mrs Davis, who had forgotten her mittens at home and decided to walk over to get them and come back to the event since she lived in very close walking distance. She called your name first, and you felt Wanda’s arm brush against yours, seemingly having stepped closer to you.

“Y/N, you made it!” she greeted cheerily, holding her arms out excitedly. Then upon seeing Wanda, her eyes darted between the two of you, trying to see if she could read the kind of outing this was. But a large and warm smile remained on her sweet face all the same.

“It’s so good to finally see you at one of these events, Wanda,” she said.

Wanda nodded, smiling a bit shakily, not that Mrs Davis noticed. “I thought it was high time I finally attended,” she said.

Share personal information, she recalled from what she read online.

She added, “And Y/N offered to come with me since I didn’t want to come alone.”

“Oh, it’s so nice to see you out during the holidays, Wanda, I always wondered how you were the head of the committee, but were never able to enjoy the hot chocolate vendors you helped us find!” Mrs Davis laughed, and Wanda found herself genuinely smiling, pleasantly surprised by how much she’d been thought of.

“The hot chocolate was amazing,” Wanda conceded with a shy smile.

A voice called from behind the two of you, presumably Mrs Davis’ husband, for she waved back and quickly said her goodbyes as she said she needed to run.

“So, so happy to see both of you,” she said with a beaming smile. “Merry Christmas!”

Wanda waved goodbye, watching the older woman walk away before you both headed back to her car together. When you looked at Wanda, she had a little trace of a smile on her face, and after a moment, she held your hand, not saying anything.

You sat in Wanda’s living room going through the photos you took together, having stopped by a restaurant to pick up some dinner. She was laughing at them, asking you to send all of them to her, and recalling everything you did that night together with great excitement.

She cuddled close to you as she watched you send her the photos.

“I’m so happy we went,” she said, her cheek laying against your warm sweater.

You brought your hand up to her head, combing through her hair and massaging your fingers against her scalp. You watched as her eyes closed, listened to her breathing softly as you touched her gently.

After some silent moments, you asked, “Would you like to come to my place for Christmas?”

Wanda opened her eyes and looked up at you. “But you’re hosting your family.”

You and Wanda had only been together for a few days, and by tomorrow, Christmas Day, you still wouldn’t have been together for even a full week.

“I know, but… Wanda, I don’t want you to be celebrating Christmas alone at all. I want to spend it with you, and I want you to be there.”

She sat up, her hand still resting on your knee.

“But I’ll be meeting your family, right?”

You knew that family was a bit of a sensitive topic for Wanda. You didn’t want her to feel upset while she was there, and you didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable, or like she didn’t fit in. But unbeknownst to you, that wasn’t what Wanda was thinking about at all.

“You… will. Yes. But I promise they’re really nice, and they’ll really like you,” you tried to explain, hoping you weren’t turning her away from spending the holiday with you.

“But, I mean…” Wanda trailed off, trying to find a way to word her thoughts. “You’re introducing me to them as… What?”

The moment a weight was taken from your shoulders at the concern that Wanda would be too nervous to spend Christmas with any family, another one was added in which you and Wanda would have to think about how you wanted to see your relationship.

Wanda felt a bit of panic rise in her at what seemed to her as hesitancy. Didn’t you want to be with her? Were you feeling ashamed of being with her? Or even worse, were there some things about having a family that she just couldn’t understand? Was she fated to never fit in amongst people you loved?

You also felt nervous to approach the topic. Introducing her as your girlfriend felt like forcefully jutting her into your family dynamic. You wanted to show her that you listened to the stories you told about her family, and that you didn’t want to change how she was in order to enjoy Christmas with you.

“We can…” you started, going nowhere. “Maybe I can… If you want… introduce you as my girlfriend.”

Wanda felt her heart flutter and her fingers tightened around your knee. You took that as a sign of tension.

“But that’s totally okay if that’s not at all what you want. I understand. Listen, we can try, just for Christmas, and if you hate it, we don’t have to do it again.”

Then Wanda became confused, pulling back. “What do you mean? You’ll break up with me after Christmas?”

“What? What do you mean ‘breaking up?’”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing right now? Asking me out so you can introduce me as your girlfriend?”

“I-I mean… Yes, maybe. I’m actually… I’m not really sure what I’m doing.” You frowned just a little, looking helpless. “I’m a little confused.”

She exhaled a little, feeling relief that at the very least she wasn’t the only one.

After regaining some of your confidence, you worded yourself carefully, and honestly. “I just don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable being around my family. I don’t want this to be something that divides us.”

“Me neither,” she replied. She moved closer to you again. “I want to fit in with your family.”

“Wh… Really?”

Wanda nodded. “Of course,” she replied sincerely. “I want to be able to fit into your life. I want to take this seriously.”

Then after a moment, she asked quietly, “Do… you take this seriously?”

“Yes! Yes, I do,” you quickly answered, taking her hands. “I just thought that you’d feel uncomfortable being around my family for the holidays, and I didn’t want to force you to have a role with them by introducing you as my girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Wanda breathed out, understanding where the misunderstanding had come from. “But what about what you said about breaking up after Christmas?”

You let go of her hand to scratch the back of your neck awkwardly. “That… Well…” you trailed off, and Wanda squeezed your hand supportively. “Well, are we dating? Right now?”

Not even Wanda really knew, and she was the one who was most outwardly adamant about wanting to be serious with you.

“I want to be your girlfriend, Y/N,” Wanda said.

Your cheeks warmed and you felt your chest flutter with the idea of Wanda calling herself your girlfriend, and the idea that you were dating her.

“Okay,” you replied with a little smile, and Wanda smiled shyly when you squeezed her hand. “Then… Will you be my girlfriend? Can we go out?”

Wanda couldn't help but giggle, both at the ridiculousness of the confusing conversation, and at the feeling of being asked to be your girlfriend.

“Oh, you’re making fun of me now?” you teased, only making Wanda laugh harder. She tried to pull her hand away from you to compose herself, but you didn’t let her.

You pulled her on top of you as she laughed. Your hands held her at her waist and you kissed her neck and shoulder. Then you laid your head back, watching with a smile as she came down from her laughter.

She brushed her hair back and looked down at you.

“Yes, we can go out,” she finally replied, pushing your hair back from her forehead with a delicate smile on her face.

It wasn’t until after Wanda started dating you that she realized she was a little bad with words. It wasn’t only lacking the confidence to say things that made her bad at it, but also her struggles with wording things. But you somehow always understood her when she tried her best to explain, pulling together scraps of a cohesive explanation.

You understood when she tried to explain how happy she was that she was your girlfriend, and you were hers only. Largely, you understood everything she tried to tell you, even when she thought she made absolutely no sense.

It made her much more confident in speaking with others, and in sharing what she thought and felt in a sincere way, and not because she read a tip online saying that she should.

You spoke with her over the phone as you ran the last few errands for Christmas dinner, and Wanda was preparing the dish she was going to bring. She asked things like what she should wear and if they’d like the dish she chose, and even things like conversation starters your family would like.

To the last question, you honestly had no clue, and told her no one had ever asked you that before. It kind of made you laugh, which made Wanda laugh and realize she was overthinking.

After you hung up, Wanda called her parents like she did every Christmas Day. This time, she was able to tell them that she was going to attend something later.

Pietro, unlike her parents, for they didn’t understand the significance of what their daughter was trying to tell them, was thrilled for her. Though she wasn’t sure if he would actually hold up his end of the bargain, he communicated that he really hoped to see her for Christmas next year.

She sent him the pictures of the Christmas Eve event she went to with you, and she promised to send pictures later that night too.

Pietro was always very supportive of Wanda’s interests, and he said he truly couldn’t remember the last time she was so excited about anything. She hadn’t realized she was so excited about the dinner.

He corrected her, saying that she seemed far more excited about dating you.

Wanda knocked at your door, holding her own attempt at the salmon bake she believed you mastered the first time you cooked it last week. She heard the sounds of your family already inside and she felt her chest flutter with both nerves and excitement.

She thought of Mrs Davis, and how excited she had been to see her.

She thought of everything you’d told her, and how you’d wanted to know more about her when she thought she’d treated you horribly, and how you didn’t think she treated you horribly at all.

Maybe she wasn’t so bad at all the things she thought she was. In any case, you still liked her. Though she didn’t think she’d ever get used to that.

You opened the front door, quickly ushering Wanda in. You took the dish from her as she took her shoes and jacket off.

“Merry Christmas, Wanda,” you said softly, leaning in and giving her a kiss.

Wanda beamed at you.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

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

1K notes · View notes

dabisqueen · 1 year ago

Text

Pornstar!Dabi (Touya Todoroki) x female reader

⇢ word count: roughly 7K

⇢ plot: as a broke student, you sign up for an assistant job at a movie set. It turns out the job is more than you bargained for.

⇢ warnings: 18+, minors DNI, swearing, size kink, pierced big-cock Touya, fingering, cunnilingus (f receiving), multiple orgasms, loss of virginity, overstimulation, exhibitionism (sex in front of other people (movie set)), creampie, sweet aftercare

⇢ personal note: thank you @/blankexpressions-and-falsefires for bring my beta again! As for what you're all about to read – I have no regrets. Virgin kink goes brrr

"College has always been so crucial, such an essential part of what measures a person’s worth and determines their future."

They say college life is quite challenging. That it can help you come to realize your potential, that you learn more about yourself while in it. That the challenges you experience in university help you grow into a mature person in society.

You have several challenges to face. There's the problem that you focus entirely too much on your studies. In some ways, it’s to secure your future and to compensate for your lack of private life. In other ways, it makes you, because of inexperience, too naive for your own good. Or, as your friends have called it: too innocent. You've never had anyone touch you, never been with anyone in that way. Thus, you never get the hint when someone hits on you or finds you attractive. You have excellent grades – but unlike many of your peers, you’re still a virgin.

Another challenge you are facing is that you aren't wealthy. One semester into your studies, you are closer to the end than you expected. Leaving your landlord's buro, you take a few steps before coming to a halt and close your eyes as if to gain some semblance of composure. You're broke and desperately need money to cover your rent and living expenses. The bank isn't going to give you another loan, and you find yourself on the verge of having to leave college without a family to support your education.

They say you have to fail first to be successful in the future. But you are beyond failing – you are simply screwed.

You are very aware of your financial predicament. And you loathe having to live day to day on just pennies. To put it short—you are sick of being a broke-ass, loser virgin.

You sigh.

Giving up is not a choice. So you do the next best thing: grab life by the horns and start looking for a job. Searching under your bed, clothing pockets, and between couch cushions, you scrounge up enough money to get a local newspaper. In its classified ads, only a few offers deem themselves feasible with your busy school schedule: a late-night shift at a local diner, pizza delivery, or a job doing telemarketing. None of those sound too appealing, but there might not be a choice. Then, your gaze stops at an offer that sounds too good. A movie company is looking for a production assistant on a film set; you don't need prior experience, work hours are during the weekends, and pay is double what the other jobs offer.

You don’t think before hastily grabbing your phone, punching in the number, and waiting while the dial tone rings.

After a distinct click over the other line, a man hisses, "Shimura?"

"Uhm, hi. I- I am calling about the assistant job offer. I was wondering—"

"You're hired. Tomorrow at 5 pm," the man at the other end interrupts in an annoyed tone.

He rattles off the address as you fumble around for a pen, hastily writing it down when you find it.

Before you can reply, he finishes with Don't be late and hangs up unceremoniously.

You exhale, realizing you’ve been holding your breath since he started speaking.

What the hell just happened?

***

The path to the location is littered with brown leaves, and you struggle to keep from slipping as you walk toward the building. The address given to you is an old warehouse on the edge of town. Its monotonous, featureless walls covered in graffiti make it feel abandoned. There are no visible signs that anything is happening inside at all.

As you walk across the parking lot, you start to see small indications of life: fancy cars—far too fancy for this area- and sensual music permeating through the corrugated steel walls.

You weren’t sure how to dress for a job you knew nothing about, so you opted for blue jeans, a white blouse, and pointy shoes with heels. Your hair is tied into a neat ponytail, and simple smokey eyes complete the look.

You aim for a large steel door that the cars are all parked close to. As you lift your head, you take in the old brick building you are standing in front of, lined with large casement metal windows.

There is a single doorbell, no name on it, and you hesitate before inhaling and pressing it with the tip of your finger.

You hear a clicking sound, and then the heavy door swings inwards.

Alright, here goes nothing.

***

The set is surprisingly professional—like a luxurious bedroom sliced in half. A row of chairs faces the set on a concrete floor behind multiple cameras and some sound equipment, with the crew standing around talking.

The producer, Tenko, as he introduces himself to you–with tufts of pale hair and seemingly chronic dry lips in dire need of some chapstick – explains that your job will consist of helping around the set, distributing beverages, and handing out the script. Simple work you could do. After introducing you to the crew, he hands you a stack of papers, instructing you to pass them out.

Then you see her—the actress. She is gorgeous, dressed in an ivory-colored silk robe. Her hair is the color of the sun. Her skin is flawless and tanned, and her body is perfect- although almost definitely sculpted by a professional surgeon.

"Where the fuck is he?" You hear Tenko grumble, pulling a phone from his pocket, thumb tapping against the screen.

A flurry of activity breaks your concentration. A door flies open, and a man strides through—the leading actor, you gather, from how everyone else suddenly perks up.

"Fucking finally," the pale-haired director groans, tucking his cell back into the pocket of his jacket.

The man's hair is coal-colored, falling in messy strands into his face. His eyes remind you of the bright ocean, almost glowing in the dim light of the set. His sharp lips pull into a wide grin, his canines peeking out. He is casually dressed, wearing a pair of dark, ripped jeans and a white t-shirt, allowing you to notice just how well-toned his arms are. He is handsome, with delicate yet masculine features and sharp angles set in his face. His eyes are heavy-lidded, and his thin lips form a troublesome grin when his eyes meet yours.

Shit.

He holds your gaze before dragging his sinfully blue eyes over your figure and looking away again. Your heart skips a beat because even in the low light, you can see that the actor is incredibly hot. Totally your type. You can't help but stare at him, watching how he moves, the way his muscles ripple under the thin fabric of his shirt, the way his thighs bulge in his tight pants.

Speaking of bulge.

It's the biggest one you've ever seen, and the sight of it sends a pang straight to your core. Your cheeks heat up automatically.

Stop it!

You curse inwardly a few times for thinking lewd thoughts on a professional movie set.

But—you can't help it. He just looks too handsome. It stirs something inside of you you've never felt before. You sigh, knowing that this man has already made his way into your dreams, but in the end, they’ll stay just that— dreams.

Someone like him would never want to lay a hand on you.

As he approaches the stage, the man stops dead in his tracks, staring at the actress with a bored expression.

“Not her again.” You hear him groan.

The actress snaps her head around, a stunned expression on her face. “Pardon me?”

"The script calls for an innocent girl." The actor deadpans. "No one's gonna believe that with you in the female role."

The actress jumps to her feet. “How dare you talk about me like that!”

Tenko hisses, “Didn't you read the script? You would have known you film with her today, Touya—"

“I told you not to use my real name on set,” he says with a blase, somewhat impatient gaze.

“And I told you not to let out your frustration on the set, Dabi.” The director retorts.

“Frustration caused by your actions.” Dabi deadpans.

You hold your breath as your eyes dart from the director to Dabi and back to the actress. The rest of the crew acts like this is an everyday commotion on the set.

“This is not a request— I'm not doing the scene with her, " Dabi says, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

The actress jumps from her chair, visibly outraged, as her cheeks flare red with anger. “You're such a dick!”

“Yeah, you're right. But I’m the best dick in the industry.” He turns around, a sardonic finality in his tone.

You stare at the scene before you, the forgotten papers clutched tightly to your chest. The blonde woman stares at the dark-haired man, infuriated.

“So, it's either me—or her.” Dabi addresses Tenko, who isn't even trying to de-escalate the situation. “That's my final say.”

“I can't believe you're doing this to me!" The woman wails exaggeratedly.

"Sweetheart, we need someone who conveys innocence. Not some chick as fake-looking as you," Dabi purrs with false care. “Go carry your plastic off the stage already.”

Tenko scratches his neck in annoyance. He watches as the actress slings an array of profanities at Dabi before storming off with quick strides toward the door, slamming it shut behind her.

The dark-haired man stands at ease, reaching into his pants pocket to retrieve a cigarette, lighting it, and taking a deep drag. “Thank god she's gone. What were you thinking, Tenko?”

“Dabi, she's the most requested—”

“I don't give a fuck.” he runs a free hand through his dark bangs. “She sucks.”

You listen to them bicker, getting more confused by the second.

“So—what do you expect me to do now?” Tenko's scratching increases as he starts pacing up and down the set. “Production costs will double if we cut and pick things up on a different day. Not to mention the cost of finding a new replacement.”

He jumps off his chair, pacing around the set. Then he grumbles, “We’ll take a ten-minute break. I need to come up with a solution or else—”

“We need someone Pretty, no makeup, normal clothes.” Dabi suggests, "That won't be too expensive. Someone who looks undefiled, innocent.” Dabi's gaze wanders across the room. “Like a student or something.”

Then he sees you, and a smirk tugs at his lips. His stunning sapphire eyes look you up and down. You swallow hard, your shaking hands almost crumpling the papers in their tight grip.

"Like her." Teal eyes narrow as they focus on you.

You blink back at him dumbly, the room around you completely silent.

"Me?" You answer, his words catching you off guard.

"Yep. You." Dabi's smirk returns, a playfulness in his eyes.

The director stares at you with the same baffled expression written on your face. "Her?"

"Yep. Her." His grin widens.

"B-But, I can't!" You counter. " I'm a simple student, not an actress—"

"That's exactly what we need." The twinkle in his eyes is still there, "And you have a pussy, don't you?"

"Yes, I—” You catch yourself, your cheeks flaring hot. “W- What does that even have to do with this movie?"

Suddenly, the room goes alive with murmurs and whispers.

Dabi quirks a brow. "You're telling me you don't know?"

"Don't know what?" You helplessly look around.

The dark-haired man turns to his director, "You didn't tell her?!"

Tenko mumbles something about how you would have found out eventually.

Dabi steps toward you and crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Doll, this is an adult film set."

"A what?" You dumbly blink at him.

"An adult film set. You know, where people fuck." He leans forward, deep azures sparkling salaciously. "You know how fucking works, don't you?"

"Yes, I mean—in theory?" A heat washes over your face and flushes down your entire body.

"Yes or no. What is it?" Dabi asks teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

The heat in your face has reached the tip of your ears as you stammer. "It's none of your business."

He steps even closer. "C’mon, sweetheart, tell us."

He smirks, eyes narrowing as he leans closer. He looks at your lips, then back at your eyes. You can smell him with how close he is leaning in. His deep, masculine scent surrounds you, sending a jolt of heat straight through your core. Even though your mind wants to scream at him, to tell him off, you hear a timid voice whisper, "I’ve used my fingers? Maybe some toys?"

It is your voice.

"You're telling me you've never done it with another person?" This time, it is Dabi’s turn to sound baffled as he leans back, taking you in. "That you're a virgin."

"I-I…" You stammer, swallowing dryly.

Looking over his shoulders, he calls over to his director, "It'll break records if we film this. You're aware of that, right?"

"I am." Tenko snaps, scratching at his neck irritably, "You don't need to tell me."

"Ok, then it's a deal.” He nods towards you. “I want her—or I'm leaving."

"You little piece of—" Tenko growls. "That's extortion."

"You won't regret it," Dabi says, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Shouldn’t I have a say on this too?" You ask, but both men ignore your words.

"Ok, it's a deal," Tenko murmurs. "How much do we pay her?"

Dabi turns his gaze back to you. "You need money, right? Or else you wouldn't be here.”

"That’s none of your business."

"C'mon, sweetheart, This is your chance."

“Yes, I mean… " a sound of annoyance bubbles up your throat. "I can't afford my rent anymore, and my landlord will kick me out if I don't pay up soon."

“I sense an opportunity here," Dabi smirks. "Tenko, how much will you pay her if she agrees to do this with me?"

"How much do you want?" Tenko asks you.

“I-I don't know. I've never thought about it." You shyly add.

"Pay her rent plus an allowance," Dabi suggests. "Tenko, you know she's worth it."

"That’s too m—" You swallow hard.

Tenko mumbles disgruntledly: "OK, I'll do it.”

“You what?" His words leave you stunned.

Dabi interrupts quickly. "What he's saying, sweetheart, is that he'll pay for your rent - if you let me fuck you.”

His lewd words and the deep blue pools of his stunning eyes send a flutter through your stomach.

“In front of all these people?!"

“That's what porn is all about, doll.” Dabi chuckles, studying your reaction.

You swallow hard.

"So? What's it gonna be?" He cocks his head, waiting.

You have always prioritized safety, so common sense tells you to stick to your usual way of life. However, look where common sense has led you: You're almost broke and may need to drop out of college.

This could be a bad decision. But, it's time to throw safety to the sea.

"OK, I'll do it," you proclaim, and a round of applause and cheers erupt on the set while Dabi nods appreciatively.

“Congratulations, you're hired. Now, get ready before I change my mind.” Tenko waves a hand. “We still have a movie to film here.”

Your heart starts to race, a crushing weight bearing down on your chest. But you know that you have no choice. It's either a free porn loan—or being a forced college dropout. Taking a deep breath, you ball your hands into fists, trying to ignore the signs of panic your body is giving you.

"Okay, everyone, resume positions. And hand her the script.” Tenko moves to his chair, sitting down in it. “Let's do the first take."

"Hold on," Dabi says. "Why not do it a bit differently this time? No script, no acting— just raw footage. The whole thing.”

“You mean a one-shot film?” Tenko looks surprised. “I suppose that would work. Especially with a new actress.”

“Are you okay with that, doll?” Dabi smiles at you, and there's a warmth in his voice that wasn't there before.

“Do I have a choice?” you sigh.

“Not really.” He winks.

"Are you two lovebirds done flirting over there? " Tenko asks, " Because we're ready to film.”

“We weren't flir—” you protest, but Dabi bridges the distance between you.

"So, sweetheart?" He leans in, his face hovering close, sharing a breath with you. "How are you feeling about being fucked on camera?"

“Nervous.” you bite your lips, your face starting to burn.

"Doll, don't be; just focus on me," he soothes, stroking your cheek. “Forget about everyone else; I'll take care of you.”

He takes your hand and pulls you towards the bedroom set.

“Quiet!” Tenko raises a hand, and complete silence falls over the set as the crew prepares to film you both.

Tenko calls out a set of commands, which different crew members around the room answer.

“Sound?”

“Set.”

“Camera?”

“Set.”

“Roll sound.”

“Sound rolling.”

“Roll camera.”

“Camera Speed.”

“Marker.”

A man with a clapper board enters the scene and calls, "Scene one. Take—uhm— whatever."

Dabi nods, and that is the cue. The lights dim, and the cameras vanish into the darkness; only the red lights betray their existence.

You glance around, your stomach in knots, as you realize that this is no game, that this is it. The only thing visibly lit was the bed standing a few feet away. The crew's faces are barely visible as everyone watches you, the man behind the camera tilting it, filming you from bottom to top.

“Hey baby, you alright?” You hear Dabi's voice.

“N-No, not really.” You stammer, your hands trembling, your breathing picking up, as your eyes frantically dart around the dark set. “I don't know if I can do this.”

“Sweetheart, look at me.” You feel a finger hook under your chin when Dabi tilts your head to meet his gaze. It's intense, the turquoise of his irises gleaming almost unnaturally.

You feel your heart sink into your stomach as his thumb caresses your skin. When he closes the already minimal distance between you, your eyes flutter close in reflex. His lips are sensually warm and addicting against your cheek, and your heart starts thrashing wildly inside your chest in response. Something changes between you, an intimacy blooming as the voices of the people mute.

It's all you need to distract your mind, to make your body heat up. Not with anxiety—

—but in anticipation.

“Are you ready to give me your virginity?” His low voice rumbles close to your ear.

You nod, like in a haze, every caress of his lips causes your skin to tingle, to burn with passion. He shifts, and you feel him faintly brush your lips, and a zap of electricity courses through your veins. Then, your lips are united in his first tentative kiss. They are so soft, and the way he kisses you is so delicate, almost tender— deliberately slow.

You relax, giving in to how wonderful this feels. His tongue slowly traces the shape of your lips, and you feel your brain short-circuiting. Angling your head to the side, you part your lips, begging him to enter. Dabi reacts instantly, his tongue slipping your mouth, delving deeper, tasting you, consuming you.

You groan—how could a man taste so good?

It makes your knees buckle, and you start panting into his mouth, your instincts taking over, your body reacting to his touch. A desire, a passion, awakens like a wild animal roaring, and you feel a wave of arousal pool in your panties. You can't help it, and you slide your hand underneath his shirt, your other hand circling his neck. You can feel him smirking into the kiss, but the sound carries off into a groan when you rake your nails down the small of his back.

As he breaks away, a warmth lingers between you and him while he admires your wet, pink, swollen lips, "A little eager for your first time, huh?"

The kiss leaves you dizzy, and you can't seem to form an answer, too stricken by his closeness and intoxicating scent.

The moment passes, and then his lips smash against yours so fast you don't even have time to react. He presses his hips against yours, his clothed hardness grazing against your heat, letting you feel just how hard you’ve made him.

Holy shit.

He's not gentle anymore; he's rough and demanding now. He is taking you, enjoying the shaky gasps that leave your lips. Dabi’s hands trail down your side to find your ass cheeks. He lifts you by the thighs onto his waist skillfully, never breaking the kiss. Carrying you easily toward the bed he releases his hold and you topple onto it, panting heavily.

The lights around you heat the air, and you notice one camera panning across the set while the other tracks toward you on a dolly. Just as your heart starts picking up an anxious speed again, you see a movement to the side. Dabi yanks his shirt above his head, the muscles in his stomach flexing with every movement.

The second the fabric touches the floor, he's on you with his lips pressed to yours and his tongue in your mouth. You feel yourself getting lost in the moment of passion and all you can see is him. Your stomach somersaults and the world around you ceases to exist; it is just you and him— the people around you and the cameras wholly forgotten. The world, right now, only revolves around the two of you.

“You taste so fucking good,” he breathes into your mouth, hazy eyes glowing with arousal. "How do you taste so fucking good?”

You feel his hand sneak underneath your shirt to slowly pull it off over your head. Next, he skillfully removes the rest of your clothes off until you are lying below him, sex and breasts cupped by delicate cotton underwear.

“Look at that,” he muses. “So innocent.”

Sliding his hand behind your back, he unhooks the bra with an expert pinch of his fingers. Your breasts spill out as he slides the straps off your shoulders, tossing it aside. Then his gaze lingers on your soft, round tits.

“Damn,” he cups them and squeezes them gently, “Where have you been hiding, girl? You're perfect.”

He slides his fingers over your nipples and a low moan tears from your throat. Dabi lets out a low rumble as his hands continue to work your breasts, rubbing and plucking at your stiffening nipples. There’s a deep throb low in your body, pulsing between your thighs, and you're startled at the way you’re reacting. You are so turned on—his touch only adds to your body’s cravings, and as his large palms glide over your breasts; it pulls the breath from your lungs as it simultaneously fuels your desire. His thumbs drag over your nipples again, rolling it between his fingers before leaning down to lick at your pebbled nub. He makes you feel breathless with excitement the more he focuses on toying with your breasts, rolling the tips back and forth between his thumb and forefinger.

It makes you crazy with need until you're aching, shivering throughout your entire body. You're gasping for breath the entire time Dabi has his lips wrapped around your erect nub, sucking it to send a tingling sensation straight through to your core. Then he's biting just hard enough to make you squeal before soothing the puckered nub with a flick of his tongue.

“You’ve got the most amazing tits,’ Dabi murmurs against your skin. “So soft and full. So natural.”

While he switches from pliant nipple to pliant nipple, you feel a stray hand hook its fingers under the seams of your panties. He releases your nipple with a pop and peppers kisses down to your tummy while he adeptly pulls the little piece of fabric down and off your legs. You're now utterly naked below him while Dabi continues revering your body with wet kisses and nibbles, moving downward until you feel his warm breath on your pubic mound. He spreads your trembling legs, his eyes glazing over your pussy, pupils expanding and then retracting into pin slits.

"Look at that pretty pussy." His breath is hot against your soaked folds. "And so fucking wet—you're dripping."

A shameful sound spills from your lips at his words, and you writhe in his hold. But his hands keep you in place.

"You're seriously telling me,” he slides his fingers up and down your glistening folds, “No one's been here before?"

You squirm below him as a camera zooms in on where Dabi’s eyes are affixed– between your thighs.

“Cause you have the prettiest pussy I've ever seen.” He snickers. “And I've seen a lot.”

His warm, calloused fingers slide up and down your slippery folds, his hot breath fanning over your sex. Then he spreads apart your sweet lips; it makes you shudder in anticipation, and Dabi chuckles.

“I can see you twitching for me.” A finger sinks in, making you arch your back the deeper it goes.

The camera behind him zooms in on your blushing face, and you cover it with trembling hands.

"Nu-uh, no hiding. Look at me." He slaps your clit lightly—making you jolt. "Let us see your pretty face."

You whimper softly, because you've touched yourself before—

—but this just feels so much more intense.

“Dabi—” you choke out, flinching in pleasure when he slides a hand underneath your ass,

raising your hips to have more access to you.

“Relax, baby, I'll take care of you.” A growl tears from his throat, and then he drags his tongue over your gleaming folds, tasting you.

You cry out, your body shuddering. Over and over, Dabi licks you with deep, claiming strokes, using his tongue to explore every bit of you.

“Damn, you taste better than anything I've ever tasted.” He pushes his wet muscle into your core, frantic to have more of you.

“Oh my God. Dabi!” Your toes curl, and your thighs tighten around him. You're both – startled and aroused at his eagerness. Any worries you have are melting away as he drags his tongue over you again and again, making you squirm with need.

A moan escapes your lips– loud, uncontrolled– when his tongue flicks over your folds. When he grazes your little button, you jolt as if you've been stung.

He hums appreciatively and buries his face into your warmth, seeking out that sweet nub. Your body jerks as he moves his tongue over it, repeating the action when he does it again. You give a little wail, and your hands curl into the fabric the longer he teases. He eagerly works that spot, and you cry out with little choked gasps.

As his tongue circles your clitoris, your sensations spiral out of control. You can feel the tension increasing in your body with a growing urgency to be released.

“Dabi,” you pant with every flick of his tongue. But he doesn't respond, does not hear– or pretends not to. He buries his face in your folds, hands holding you down by your hips.

With every quiver that moves through your body, with every shiver of response, every tensing of your muscles, you draw closer to the edge.

You writhe against Dabi, with his face between your thighs, lapping at your juices. All the while, he continues to work your little clit with his tongue in slow, steady strokes.

Suddenly, the feeling that you’re about to cum overwhelms you. Your pussy clenches, dripping with your juices, and your clit is ready to burst.

Your hips jerk against him, and then a release explodes in your mind, your thoughts crashing all around you. You come with a slight scream that morphs into a moan, but Dabi does not stop his ministrations—

—no.

He continues to lick and suck as you come and come and come.

It's too much; you feel like exploding. You’re a moaning mess, fingers slipping between Dabi’s strands, pushing and pulling at his roots unsure if you can take it if he keeps going like that.

Your entire body is on fire. The orgasm continues to surge through you– more intense than anything you’ve experienced by yourself– with Dabi gently sucking and licking at your clit. You are delirious, feel like you are floating with no way to find your path back to earth.

“Dabi, please—” you choke out.

Dabi’s mouth detaches from your overstimulated nub and straightens up, licking your cum’s sweetness off his lips. Crawling on top of you, he gazes into your eyes. “Doll, tell me—what do you want me to do?”

You see his jeans straining from the bulk of his erection and swallow, your body responding with a flood of hormones.

“Please fuck me,” you whisper, thinking in ways you never have before.

You want to beg him to be gentle, but you can’t seem to form the words when you see him unbuckle his belt before unzipping his jeans, his eyes carefully watching your expression as he does. His cock springs to life, and you swallow thickly. It's enormous—and pierced.

You feel a momentary pang of doubt, questioning if that monster will even fit inside you. The previous excitement and adrenaline pumping through your veins gradually turn to panic. Your breathing picks up as you stare at his cock, wide-eyed.

“You look worried,” Dabi says, stroking it with one hand. His raised eyebrows and amused grin tell you he's used to this type of reaction.

“Are you sure…” you nod towards his cock.

“Trust me,” he says. “I’ll make sure you feel good. It’ll be the greatest thing you'll ever experience.”

Your entire body yearns for his touch, and there’s no way you're saying no now. He’s spreading you wide open, hands on your knees, before he moves to hold himself in hand to align his cock with your entrance.

"Do you want me to fuck you?’ Dabi asks as he drags the head of the tip up and down your slit.

“‘S not gonna fit,” you whine with a worried expression.

“Don't be scared,” Dabi says, "I know what I'm doing. So, you'll be a good girl and take it all, right?”

“I'm not sure,” you whisper.

“I know you can...” His eyes stare at you with a desire so intense that you almost feel intimidated.

He’s spreading you wide open, hands on your knees, before he moves one to hold himself and align his cock to your entrance. The pressure between your legs increases as Dabi nudges the pierced tip of his cock against you.

“Get ready,” he whispers.

A mix of a gasp and a cry leaves your lips as Dabi strains against you, feeling like he’s trying to shove a massive pole inside of you. You squeeze your eyes shut as tears gather in your lashes, and Dabi holds back, kissing you, waiting for you to relax.

“Easy,” he says softly, “I’ve got you.”

The softness of his tone relaxes you and the tension in your shoulders lessens. Then, somehow, something gives way, and he enters you. You gasp, your body opening up to accommodate the massive dick that is now sliding inside of you.

"Oh my god—” You throw your head back, hands clawing at his shoulders in a weak attempt to push him away.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,�� he hisses, eyebrows furrowing before he hits resistance and then pushes forward.

There’s a sharp pain slicing through your core, and you don't know if it's from the stretch or a tear. Probably both. It hurts, and you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing tears down your cheek. Dabi continues to push his hips forward, only stopping once he’s entirely inside, heavy balls pressed against the crease of your ass. The cameras zoom in on the bulge in your womb, where his dick sits buried deep inside of you. But you don't notice them, your brain too consumed by him filling you up, his whole weight resting against you.

“You ok?” Breathing heavily, he drags his eyes back and forth over your face.

“Gimme a sec.” Your lips press into a thin line as the pain from the stretch slowly turns into a dull throb. After a moment, you nod...

"I'm gonna start moving now," Dabi says— and then does precisely that.

Just as you start to feel your body relaxing, he withdraws, only to plunge himself in again. The sudden shock of the movement is incredible. You feel every ridge, every single thick vein. It feels fantastic, and as he slowly slides back in, you can appreciate every inch of his cock. He starts an even rhythm, rocking inside you gently.

“Shit, just squeezed me so fucking tight,” he moans in response. "I’m warning you, don't make me lose my composure. You don’t want to see me act up.”

Your mind feels detached from your body; you don't hear him, don't even notice the camera zooming in, focusing on how your face scrunches and your lips quiver because of how good he makes you feel.

He grabs you by the waist and brings you closer to him. Raising both legs in the air, he pushes them forward until your body is folded in half.

“Oh—shit—” You choke out, the walls of your sex stretching to accommodate him.

“I’m gonna make you cum,” Dabi is panting hard as he starts driving his cock rapidly in and out of you. “You won't be able to walk for days.”

“I-I can’t—” your jaw slackens as you tighten around his dick again, the ability to form comprehensive answers having left you the moment he breached your walls.

He rams himself deeper while his fingers slip between your strands, guiding your face upward, your mouths colliding in a frantic kiss.

It starts as a slow burn that gradually builds into a white, blistering heat. A feeling begins coursing through you, making you lose control of your body. You tense and arch your back, your head digging back into the pillow, voice caught in your throat. And just when you think you can't take it anymore, all that tension releases, and you cry out loud, a turbulent wave of pleasure hitting you like a storm. All your nerve endings are seemingly set ablaze while Dabi fucks you through your orgasm.

His eyes are wide with wonder, hearing and feeling you come undone around him. The way your eyes are shut tightly in pleasure, your entire body trembling and shaking in ecstasy, is the best thing he's ever seen. It makes his chest swell with pride. Still, it feels like it's not enough, though, and he needs more. He wants to own you, possess you, make you his.

Dabi snaps.

With a suppressed growl, Dabi grabs you by your hips and flips you over onto your stomach. He's not letting you catch your breath before he propels his cock back inside you again. His hand slides from the dip in your spine to the spot between your shoulder blades, pressing down until your face is buried in the sheets. At this angle, he reaches even deeper than before, his piercings rubbing your G-spot just right. Your hands tightly fist the soft duvet with every drive of his hips, knocking the air from your lungs.

Dabi seems delirious, pistoning in and out of you now. Reaching forward, he gathers your hair around his fist, tugging it to keep you in place, forcing your head up from the sheets. You sob out his name, your chin and cheeks covered with your drool and tears.

But Dabi is drowning too deep in pleasure to notice.

"I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll never think of anyone but me in your fantasies," Dabi growls while your elbows shake under the pressure of his forceful thrusts.

Slowly, your mind is falling apart with the pleasure pulsing through your body. Dabi starts drilling his big cock into your even faster now. You tremble below him, thighs quivering when you feel another orgasm building up.

“You gonna cum for me again, princess?” Dabi groans, “I can feel your pussy clenching around me.”

You nod, too exhausted to form any words. Dabi tightens his hold on your hip, fingers digging into your plush skin, holding you still.

“I’m gonna cum with you,” he tells you. “I’m gonna fill up your tight hole, gonna breed you so good—fuck!”

"Please—" you whimper pathetically, finding yourself trapped in his lewd promises.

And then you lose it, feeling like the world is disappearing underneath your feet. Pleasure rips through you, leaving you with no strength. It’s an intense tingling pleasure that starts in your core and spreads through your whole body, from your fingertips down to your toes. It's all-consuming and euphoric, your body not knowing what to do with that much sensation at once.

You feel your body falling off a cliff into a pile of tingling ecstasy as you cum again with a broken whimper escaping your lips. The orgasm is even more potent than the last ones, like a massive burst of pleasure; all that tension explodes and shoots up the back of your legs and everywhere else. You moan and shudder, your pussy clamping around his cock.

“That’s it,” Dabi lets out a long, shuddering groan. “Just like that.”

You forget to breathe while Dabi keeps fucking your harder and harder, feral with desire, shoving his cock as deep inside you as he can.

“Oh fuck—” You gasp out, arching your back, fingers twisting against the sheets.

No sooner have the words slipped from your lips that you feel your whole body lock tight again—and then unravel. You forget to breathe as an unending cascade of euphoria detonates deep inside of you. You come undone, shaking uncontrollably as juices gush from your pussy, dripping down Dabis balls, drenching the sheets below.

Dabi groans, his eyes screwing shut, head dropping back. With one final possessive thrust of his hips, he cums, shooting his seed deep inside you. You feel his cock twitch as he moans heavily, eyebrows sewn together. His body is shuddering, his hips hitching while he rides out his orgasm.

You’re faintly aware of your surroundings, buried too deeply in your bliss. Unable to take any more pleasure, you slump backward. Dabi slides his softening cock from you with an obscene wet sound before dropping down onto the bed beside you, taking you with him.

“Fuck…” he breathed out, caressing your skin. “That felt so—”

‘And—cut!’ You hear a voice call, speaking its way into the mush that is your brain, slapping you back to reality.

You open your eyes and look around in shock, having completely forgotten where you are. The lights switch on, almost blindingly bright. People start hustling about the set, and cameras mere inches away from you now pull back into their waiting positions.

“That was perfect,” you hear Tenko say through the noise filling the set now.

Your breath catches in your throat, an unsettling feeling beginning to well inside you. Your heart starts pounding at an increasingly rapid pace while you feel panic stretch its icy fingers up your spine.

You feel a warm hand cradling your face, angling it to the side. It’s Dabi. He places his mouth over yours without further ado.

“You are perfect.” Dabi coos into the kiss, and it happens again— butterflies erupt in your gut, the world around you fading until there's only you and him.

Instinctively, you let go, feeling the tension slowly dissipate and your heart calming down. Dabi smiles as he breaks away from you, and you feel it— a lingering warmth, an unseen connection that spins fragile threads between you both.

A man approaches to help you get out of bed, but Dabi, whose face is still dewy with sweat, moves between you both. He takes the bathrobe from the guy and wraps it around your shivering body before getting dressed himself.

Helping you off the bed, he drapes an arm around your shoulder and leads you past the celebrating crew members from the set until you’re backstage.

Once in the changing room, he closes the door behind him and leans against it.

“That was something…” he muses. “You’re a natural. Would you ever consider doing this again with me?’

You're caught off-guard, his face radiating a tenderness that fills your heart with something joyful. A warmth spreads across your face, your hands gripping the soft belt of your robe as you nip at your lower lip. “I-I don't know.”

“You should,” Dabi kicks off the door frame and saunters over you with a sinful, obscene sway of his hips. His hand finds yours, fingers interlacing in a silent agreement, pulling you into a tight embrace. “Think about it…”

He lets the words hang in the air for a second. When he pulls away, his arms wrap around your neck, lower half still pressed against you as if you’re not a stranger. He looks down at you like the two of you have been dating for years.

“So, I was wondering… what are you doing later on?” Dabi kisses the tip of your nose. “Do you want to grab a bite to eat and get some drinks?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” A new desire for him grows inside of you. You smile back at him, reaching up to gently play with his dark hair.

“Maybe?” His lips curl into a devious smirk.

“Is this even allowed?” Chest to chest, your heartbeat slowly catches up to his, as if your bodies react simultaneously to each other's warm touch.

“Maybe?” Dabi repeats, his thumb gently brushing along your lips.

When you look into his eyes, a tenderness softens the rough edges of his sharp features. It makes you wonder, he’s been so sweet and caring after everything that happened today– you actually believe he’s a genuinely sincere and nice guy. You feel your heart quiet when you’re with him, as if you have found peace.

“Well…” you consider, “I've just thrown all my morals into the wind. So, might as well go on a date with a pornstar, right?”

“You won't regret it.” Dabis laughs softly. “Even though you might not be able to move after I'm done with you—”

“Is that so…” You are torn between scolding him or laughing because he's so cute. “Ok, big boy, whatever you say.”

#dabi smut #dabi x you #dabi x reader #dabi #dabi todoroki #bnha dabi #mha dabi #dabi my hero academia #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #dabi fanfic #dabi x y/n #mha au #mha smut #bnha smut #dabi x reader smut #dabi x you smut

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gyubakeries · 5 days ago

Text

𝗱𝘂𝗹𝗰𝗲𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗿𝗲𝘀 | h.js

a/n: so!! part 2 is here! thank you rie ( @okiedokrie ) and a ( @chugging-antiseptic-dye ) for supporting my insanity. this one is for u guys, my fav joshua stans 🫂

part 1

word count: 4k contents: NSFW content , joshua x afab!reader , college au , joshua records nsfw audios as a side hustle , friends to lovers , happy ending , nsfw warnings below the cut!

nsfw warnings: mdni! 18+ , protected sex , fingering (f. receiving) , multiple reader orgasms , come eating , oral sex (m. receiving) , breast play , lots of nicknames (darling, baby, beautiful, good girl)

joshua is a fairly simple guy. he’s kind and nice to everyone. he’s always down to help people if they need it. he’s got good grades, love from all his professors, and the reputation of being the ‘campus gentleman.’ he even volunteers at an animal shelter on some weekends. it’s all simple and great.

except for one secret he swears he will take to his grave.

it’s the black and neon pink website he logs into every other week. it’s the microphone he records his moans in front of. it’s the thousands of people who pay him hundreds of dollars, on a weekly basis, just to hear him whispering dirty words to them.

it was a side job he picked up in the first year of college, when money was tight and his shifts at the local convenience store were barely able to cover his rent and student loans.

he was desperate and grasped at any chance he could get. when he stumbled across the website while trying to look for good porn, (don’t judge him, he has needs too) he made up his mind.

so, for a few weeks, he only had cup ramen for meals and used the leftover money to buy a good quality microphone. he set up his account on www. angelaudios.com, and nervously hit record for the first time.

he never looked back after that.

joshua built a steady following of people who were just as desperate for pleasure as he was for money. he’d post audios twice a week, maybe even go live a few times if he wasn’t too busy. it worked out well for him, considering he could actually pay rent on time and afford to buy fresh ingredients to make his meals.

for each of his recordings, joshua usually needed some time and a vivid imagination to even get hard. but then, that changed when you came along.

you in your skirts and tank tops. you with your perfectly glossed lips. you and your cherry-scented perfume that joshua could only catch traces of whenever you sat next to him in your shared lectures.

after you, joshua didn’t need much motivation. he felt guilty about it every time, but he couldn’t help the natural reaction of his body whenever he thought about how he could see the swell of your breasts in the crop tops you wore, or how your perfectly manicured nails would look wrapped around him.

ShuaTalks gained a lot of traction, and he started earning more when he started posting four audios a week in the second year of college, and he had you to thank for it.

—

“so you’re telling me joshua hong records those asmr ‘POV: i’m your boyfriend and we have phone sex’ audios?” seungkwan raises an eyebrow at you, and you let your forehead slam against the table as you slump over in frustration.

“yeah, sort of,” you reply, your voice muffled because of the way your face is pressed up against the table.

“well, are we sure that it’s him? there’s tons of other guys named joshua, right?” seungkwan tries to reason.

“i listened to one of the audios last week, seungkwan,” you sigh, not even slightly embarrassed to admit it, because your friendship with seungkwan lacks any boundaries, which shouldn’t be healthy, but it works for the both of you. still, you don’t mention how his audios are what you’ve been listening to every night, for the past week. therefore, you can say with conviction that: “it’s him. i know.”

“you are a freak,” seungkwan scoffs, rolling his eyes at you. seconds later, his head is perking up and he looks at you with an expectant gaze.

“do you think i could get the link to the playlist too?”

“no! he’s my crush! go find your own audios!”

“knew it. freak.”

—

“were you busy last night? you didn’t answer my calls.”

you nearly let out a scream when you hear the voice that has been plaguing your thoughts for the past week. after managing to compose yourself, you turn to see joshua sitting down next to you, setting his bag down on the floor.

“sorry, i fell asleep early last night,” you smile awkwardly, trying your best to avoid eye contact with joshua.

“i saw you active at 2 a.m. though? and i’ve been trying to reach out for a week, but you never responded,” joshua refutes, and you mentally kick yourself for your stupid addiction to social media. “did i do something wrong? it’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me, but i just want to know why, and apologize for any mistakes i might have made.”

“joshua, it’s not like that,” you shake your head. “it was just-”

whatever bullshit lie you were going to give him gets cut off by the professor walking into the lecture hall. all students fall silent immediately, and the professor begins his lecture unceremoniously.

“let’s talk after class, okay?” you whisper to joshua to make sure the professor won’t hear you.

and to your devastation, joshua leans in closer to whisper into your ear: “let’s get coffee after class, yeah?”

you can only gulp and nod slowly, your head moving like a broken robot. joshua gives you a small smile and pulls away, shifting his attention back to the professor.

you, on the other hand, try your best not to make it obvious just how affected you were simply by joshua whispering into your ear.

—

after class, there’s not much scope for you to escape without joshua noticing, so you resign to your fate and follow joshua to the coffee shop on campus. although it’s just a three-minute walk, every second feels like an hour in itself, especially because you awkwardly keep your mouth shut and joshua keeps glancing at you in a way that he thinks is subtle.

it’s not.

you’re put out of your misery when the familiar glass doors of the coffee shop open up automatically in front of you. after a deep inhale, you enter the building, and joshua leads the both of you to a table in the corner.

“do you want your usual?” joshua asks, and you nod wordlessly. it’s like there’s a countdown only you are aware of, telling you how much time you have left before joshua confronts you about your strange behaviour and what you’re going to tell him.

you don’t use your time very wisely.

you can’t help but look at joshua, who is at the counter, placing the order for your drinks. you can’t help but look at how his lips move as he speaks. you can’t help but look at how his bright eyes form crescents when he smiles at the employee. you can’t help but look at how his graceful hands carry the tray of drinks back to the table.

you pinch your thigh under the table as you panic. joshua is back at the table, and you have to give him an answer. an answer that you haven’t come up with yet.

“you look like i’m here to interrogate you for murder,” joshua laughs, attempting to cut through the tension. “relax, okay? in fact, if you don’t want to talk about it, you could just leave, it’s alright.”

you bite your lip nervously, wondering what you could say to him without giving away exactly why you’ve been avoiding him.

“the link you sent me was- it wasn’t the playlist, joshua,” you blurt out, forgetting all your plans of lying to him.

“so i sent you the wrong playlist,” joshua repeats. “and you’ve been avoiding me because of that?”

“no, you didn’t send me any playlist,” you groan, and joshua still looks confused, which prompts you to take your phone out and open up your texts with joshua. you scroll past all the unanswered texts and stop at the link he sent you.

“click on the link, see where it’s taking you,” you sigh, handing the phone over to him. joshua takes the phone from you and does what he’s told. within a few seconds, his eyes are going comically wide and his face flushes red instantly as he hurries to switch the phone off.

“fuck- y/n, you weren’t supposed to see that-” joshua sputters out. he’s on the brink of hyperventilating, and the other people in the coffee shop keep shooting dirty glares at him.

“joshua, calm down, it’s alright-”

“no! it’s not! you weren’t supposed to know- no one was supposed to know about it!” joshua cuts you off with more panicked rambling, which seems to attract more attention from other people.

“god, joshua, just shut up!” you hiss, leaning across the table to place your hand over his mouth. “this isn’t the place to talk about, this situation. let’s go back to my place, okay?”

at your words, joshua finally calms down enough for you to take him by the arm and lead him out of the coffee shop, both your drinks left untouched. you take him back to your apartment as quickly as possible, offering him a seat on your couch and some water once you’re inside.

there’s a few minutes of silence as joshua drinks the water, and you use the time to blame yourself for being an idiot and telling joshua the truth and throwing the both of you in an awkward situation. your train of thought is interrupted when joshua clears his throat to speak.

“i know you’re probably disgusted by me after- after seeing that,” he starts, his voice shaky. “i’m really sorry for sending you that, it was a complete accident, i swear. i wasn’t trying to be a creep or anything. you’re free to judge me all you want, i deserve it-”

“joshua, i’m not going to judge you,” you assure him, and he looks up to face you, his eyebrows furrowing with surprise. “what you do in your private life is none of my business. even i owe you an apology for acting all strange, but i promise it’s not because i’m disgusted by you.”

“you’re not?” he asks, not quite convinced.

“i’m not,” you confirm, and some of the tension in his shoulders melts away when you shoot him a small smile.

however, his next question has you freezing in your place.

“how did you know it was me, though?” joshua questions. “i mean, you wouldn’t have known if you didn’t listen to the audios. you didn’t, right?”

it’s your turn to blush a violent shade of red and avert your eyes from joshua’s gaze. “i’m- well, i mean, i was- i didn’t know who it was so i, i may have listened to one?”

the previous panic in joshua’s eyes transform into a knowing expression and smirk. “are you sure? just one?”

“no,” you mumble, hoping joshua didn’t pick up on it, but clearly, luck isn’t on your side today.

“so you listened to more than just one?” joshua tilts his head, his voice taking on that sweet lilt you’ve become used to hearing in your earphones. “did you like them?”

your brain, unhelpful as always, decides to bring back bits and pieces from the audios you’ve been listening to all week. joshua’s groans, whispers, and that sound he makes just when he’s about to cum, replay in your ears, and you press your thighs together as arousal spikes in your gut.

“use your words, darling. i can’t read minds,” joshua nudges you, and you finally break.

“i liked them, i liked them a lot,” you admit, eyes boring holes into the floor of your living room. there’s a few beats of silence before a finger is tipping your chin up, and suddenly, joshua is kneeling in front of you, his eyes locked on yours.

then he asks, “did you touch yourself while listening to them?” you nod, and joshua makes a sound of disapproval.

“baby, i told you to use your words, didn’t i?”

“i did, i touched myself,” you confess. “i even- i even made a few donations.”

“really? that’s so sweet of you, darling,” joshua smiles sweetly, yet the hunger in his eyes is anything but sweet. “now that we’re here, you deserve a little gift for being so good, don’t you? let me show you how grateful i am to you?”

“are you- are you serious?” your voice is unsure and hesitant.

“of course i am,” joshua assures. “you’ve been on my mind for a long time, y/n. so, what do you say?”

it doesn’t take you much time to decide what you want. the second you mumble out a soft yes, joshua is leaning in close to capture your lips in a slow kiss.

you’ve spent not only the last week, but the entirety of the time you’ve known joshua wondering how his lips would feel against yours. and it exceeds anything your imagination had come up with.

the way he kisses feels as syrupy as nectar, and it keeps you wanting more, which is why you dig your fingers into the fabric of his shirt to pull him in closer, letting out a gasp when his tongue licks across your lips and moves past them.

his hands, the ones you’ve dreamed of every night, grip at your waist, his thumbs rubbing circles into your warm, exposed skin, where your shirt has ridden up. he then pulls away to latch his lips onto your neck, leaving sloppy, open-mouthed kisses on every inch of skin he has access to.

“fuck, josh, can we- can we take it to my bedroom?” you gasp when you feel his teeth graze against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck.

“show me the way, beautiful.”

—

in the blink of an eye, you’re already laying down on your bed, your clothes stripped off, leaving you in your underwear. joshua is in a similar state of undress as he hovers over you, the boxers he’s wearing doing a poor job of hiding how aroused he is.

“you’re so pretty, y/n,” he whispers, maintaining eye contact with you as he litters your skin with kisses. he swirls his tongue over your nipple over the fabric of your bra, and the sensation makes you let out a sharp whine. “i’ve waited for this moment for so long, you have no idea.”

“me too, fuck, just take the damn thing off-” you grit your teeth because of how joshua keeps teasing you by mouthing at your breasts over your bra. he smirks at you, and with the flick of a wrist, the clasp of your bra is undone, and it’s pulled off your body.

smiling like a cat who has got the cream, joshua takes the liberty to mark your chest, leaving behind red traces of him so that you remember him for days to come. you arch your back, leaning into his touch and letting out whimpers as he tugs at your nipples with his teeth, leaving them red and puffy.

“joshua, i need you touch me, please,” you moan. it’s been a while since you got laid, which makes every touch feel extra sensitive, and joshua’s teasing is only making the unsettling feeling under your skin worse.

“mm, since you’ve been such a good girl, i’ll give you what you want,” joshua mutters against your skin. you don’t have to beg again, because he’s pulling off your panties next to rub on your clit in gentle circles.

your hips buck up to gain some more friction, and joshua laughs to himself when he sees the desperate scrunch of your brows. he leans down to kiss you once again, reveling in the way you moan into his mouth when he finally slips two fingers inside you.

“god, you’re so tight,” he murmurs into your mouth. “you can’t take me if you’re this worked up, darling.”

“no! i can take you, i promise!” you whine as the scissoring movement of his fingers slow down. “i’m your good girl, i can take it all.”

“desperate for cock, aren’t you?” joshua chuckles, but the sound is mean, and it does a great job of turning you on even more. the feeling of him talking to you in the flesh the way he does in his audios is unreal, and you can’t believe you got this lucky. “i like that, baby. let me stretch you out a little more, hm? so i can fit it all in?”

you nod your head quickly, turning your face to the side to bury it in the pillow as joshua adds a third finger, his thrusts increasing in their pace. you’re trying your best to hold on till joshua finally fucks you, but his fingers are rubbing all the right spots, and before you know it, you’re screwing your eyes shut, clenching down on him and cumming with his name on your lips.

when you finally open your eyes, you feel another gush of wetness drip from your cunt as joshua licks his fingers clean of your orgasm.

“just as sweet as i expected,” he remarks casually, as if he’s talking about the weather.

“joshua, i need you to fuck me right now, or i will actually combust,” you pant, chest heaving with the intensity of your orgasm.

“you’re being quite demanding now,” joshua raises an eyebrow at you. “but i’ll indulge you. where are the condoms?”

“first drawer, to the right,” you point at the nightstand next to your bed. joshua is quick to retrieve a condom. just as he’s about to tear open the foil packet, you stop him.

“can i do it?” you ask, and joshua’s eyes are filled with amusement.

“go ahead, baby,” he nods.

he’s kneeling on the bed, and you get on all fours in front of him. this time, there’s a smirk on your face as you lick at the bulge straining against the thin fabric of his boxers.

“baby, don’t tease,” joshua says, his tone bordering on an order, so you comply and tug his boxers down.

“darling, you’re drooling,” joshua’s voice snaps you out of the momentary daze you were in. you feel his hand hold your chin, his thumb gliding against the wetness gathered on your chin. “the sooner you get the condom on, the sooner you get the fucking you deserve.”

hearing his words, you gulp. joshua was, for a lack of better words, huge. bigger than anyone you’ve slept with, and quite frankly, it’s making you nervous. joshua seems to sense that, because he calls your name out again to catch your attention.

“hey, if you’re unsure about this, we could stop here,” joshua offers, his voice gentle now. “i don’t want to force you into anything.”

“no, it’s- i’m not unsure, i want this,” you shake your head. “it’s been a while, that’s all.”

“i’ll go slow with you, if that’s what you want,” joshua says, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice. “i never want to hurt you.”

“i know you wouldn’t,” you look up at him to give him a small smile. his attention is on you as he smiles back, and you seize the opportunity to catch him off-guard.

“oh shit,” joshua lets out a loud groan as you wrap your lips around his tip and suck, hard. he tries his best not to thrust into your mouth, knowing that once he started, it wouldn’t take him much time to cum down your throat.

you seem to have understood it too, because your mouth doesn’t relent. you keep suckling at the tip like it’s a lollipop, the sound obscene to even your own ears.

and then, you hear it. the sound he makes in the back of his throat. the breathy whine he lets out just as he’s about to reach his peak. at that very moment, you pull away with a satisfied grin. you pay little attention to the frustrated sounds joshua makes as you roll the condom over his length, pressing a kiss to the head as you lay back against the pillows again, spreading your legs in anticipation.

joshua all but pounces on top of you, claiming your lips in a hungry kiss as he lines his cock up with your hole, slowly nudging it inside you. your breath hitches in your throat at the pleasurable pain of his cock stretching out your walls. joshua distracts you from the pain by kissing you through it, one hand holding your waist, and the other finding yours to intertwine your fingers together.

“you feel so good around me, baby,” joshua says, and you feel the words being spoken against the skin of your neck as joshua finally bottoms out in you.

“feel so full,” you gasp. “please move, please.”

joshua doesn’t need any more convincing. he slowly pulls out and snaps his hips forward in sharp movements. his thrusts are so deep you think you can feel him in your throat. “faster, baby, c’mon,” you beg, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders and your legs tightly wrapping around his waist.

“you want it faster? want me to fuck you till your cunt only remembers the shape of my cock?” joshua grunts, picking up his speed, making you moan even louder. he’s fucking you so good you can’t even string together a coherent sentence, only mindless babbling leaves your lips.

“‘m so close, baby. you’re close too, hm?” joshua rasps, now rubbing your clit in tandem with his thrusts. “i can feel you clenching down on me. gonna milk my cock like a good girl, yeah?”

“fuck, yes joshua, i’m gonna cum-” your moans are only getting louder, and they provoke joshua to go faster to see just how loud you can get for him.

“go on, baby, let go for me,” joshua says, and if those were the magic words, you’re cumming again. this time, joshua reaches his climax at the same time. his thrusts slow down to a deep grind of his hips as you both ride out your orgasms.

“what the fuck, i can’t feel my legs,” you wheeze, your limbs practically reduced to jelly with how satisfying your orgasm was.

“can’t say i’ve ever had a girl say that to me before,” joshua chuckles. he slowly pulls out of you and collapses next to you on the bed.

“you do this with a lot of girls?” you ask, not daring to look at him.

“with a few, but i don’t have the same feelings for them as i do for you,” joshua replies without any hesitation, and it makes you turn your head to the side to look at him.

“you mean that?”

“i’ve had this hopeless crush on you for ages, y/n,” joshua confesses. “so yeah, i mean it. it’s the truth.”

“okay, good, because i really like you too,” your face breaks into a huge smile. “and i don’t want you to think that it’s only because of what just happened. i’ve liked you since the time you sat down next to me during our ‘history of music’ lecture and asked me to be your partner for the project.”

“that’s almost two years ago,” joshua’s mouth widens with surprise. “we’ve liked each other for that long?”

“god, we’re idiots,” you laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “come to think of it, if you hadn’t sent me the wrong link, how many years would we spend pining for each other?”

joshua’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink as embarrassment creeps up on him. “don’t remind me of that. i’m going to be scared of sending someone the wrong link for the rest of my life now.”

“at least it had a good outcome for us,” you shrug jokingly, and joshua’s laugh sounds like music itself.

later on, long after the both of you have showered and cuddled up under your blanket, you’re struck with a ridiculous thought while admiring joshua’s features in the pale moonlight.

“so, now that i’m a special fan, do i get any added benefits from ShuaTalks?”

“darling, i just gave you a live demo of my audios. are you already that desperate for another round?”

“we’ve got to make up for lost time, don’t we?”

“maybe after my early morning class tomorrow.”

“sure, party pooper.”

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