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lokischocolatefountain · 2 months

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Warning || Men Like Me

Masterlist

Fandom: The Last of Us Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: girth age gap, virgin!reader, eventual loss of virginity (not in this chapter), gratuitous descriptions of Joel Miller's body, somewhat creepy!Joel, fetishization of youth, dom!Joel, breaking and entering, playboy magazine, objectification, fingering, sexual discoveries. Word count: 6.2k Summary: Joel's warnings about what men like him would do to girls like you only makes you want him more. A/N: Back in the depths of hell again, you guys. Now this isn't the most depraved thing I've written by any means but it's up there. Come say hi in my chat or inbox, I'd love to talk. Keep a look out for follow up parts and pleeeeease give me comments. I am very very desperate.

Joel Miller was a bad man. That much he knew.

Even as he fixed taps and renovated houses that were falling apart, he could see the blood on his hands. The very hands that packed lunches for Ellie snapped necks, pistol whipped men, stole from a starving child so he could feed his grown brother. But there were lows even he didn’t stoop down to.

Not that he didn’t have the opportunity. Men always did. And in this world, opportunities had only tripled. Even the Boston QZ, as strict as it was, had an underground brothel. He knew Tess to frequent it and never asked questions. Sometimes she needed to bury her face between a good pair of thighs and wrap her lips around a pretty pussy, and this wasn’t something he could give her. There was a lot he couldn’t give her.

Being in Jackson should’ve civilized him. It did in many ways. He’d reverted to the southern gentleman with table manners. ‘Yes, Ma’am’ spilled out of his lips effortlessly when he spoke to women. He held the door for anyone walking in after him. He even went to Church– sorry, the multifaith house of worship–to help renovate.

That was where his troubles began.

There was no point in him going where people prayed. Being back in civilization did not erase his decades of disbelief in a cruel God who would take his baby and keep him on this accursed Earth. But he did because he was back to being a contractor and Tommy asked him to go fix up the pews instead of him. He didn’t have much time, being a new dad and all.

He was on his knees checking out the rotting wood and evaluating how much wood he’d need for building new ones when he was confronted by a pair of legs and a sweet voice. Yours.

“Lemonade, Mister Miller?”

He looked up, his eyes traveling up your legs, bare until he got to your knees where the hem of your flowery skirt sat. Pure, unblemished knees, never taken a fall, didn’t fucking creak, and never knelt before anyone but God. You looked down sweetly, eyes wide and innocent like a newborn cow. Everyone had a kind of darkness about them in this world. Everyone except the kids who didn’t know a world outside the insular walls of Jackson. And you, it turned out, even though you weren’t a kid.

He wiped his sweat off with the greasy rag he carried and looked up at you once again. You had a pitcher and an empty glass in your hands. A sweet smile on your lips and hair falling down your shoulders and reaching your breasts. A yellow ribbon sat in a bow where your neckline dipped between your breasts, adding to the innocence of your look.

“Yes please, Ma’am. Thank you,” he said, giving you a nod. Your pretty plush lips curled up, a giggle escaping them as you poured him a glass of lemonade.

His hand brushed against yours as he accepted the glass, his hand too large to curl around it without making contact with you. You giggled again before retracting your hand and occupying it with adjusting your hair.

“I’m younger than you, you know? Don’t have to call me Ma’am.”

“Just being polite. Ma’am.” He took the glass to his lips, mindful to take only a small sip instead of downing it in desperation. Another adjustment to make when food was no longer a scarcity. Sweet, sour, and salty danced on his tongue before it glided down his throat. Just a sip refreshed him. And the sight of a nice girl didn’t hurt the cause either.

It’d been so long since he had a nice refreshing glass of lemonade. Summers meant worse infestations of infected, not the barbecues, lemonades, and swimming of past. When surviving each hour was under threat, small luxuries like this became out of reach of even one’s dreams.

“Well, guess I should call you Sir then,” you said, leaning against the wall. You held the pitcher up to your chest and the tails of the ribbon on your chest dipped into it, the soft shiny yellow turning dark, tainted.

His mouth watered and fucking hell, it wasn’t the lemonade you just gave him. He took a sip of the drink and licked his lips, imagining how you’d taste if he wrapped his large hand around your neck and pressed his chapped lips to your plush ones. Better yet, if he held your legs apart and devoured you other pair of lips until you were leaking down his mouth. Would you call him Sir then? His cock twitched in his jeans as he pictured you bent over one of these pews, your skirt pushed up and his hand in your hair as he slid his cock in your hole.

Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Made the lemonade yourself?” He asked, groaning as he managed to get himself back up on his feet. His knees creaked like the floorboards of the houses he renovated, but ultimately supported him as he stood. He towered over you, making you appear smaller, more fragile.

“Depends. Do you like it?”

“It’s wonderful, of course. Hot summer day like this…I really needed it,” he said, raising the glass up a little before taking another sip.

“Well then yes, I did make it.”

He chuckled, feeling himself pulled in by your easy charisma. It was nice to have normal conversations like this once again. No agenda, no need for establishing himself as someone who wouldn’t hesitate to beat someone up if even mildly threatened. It was just…normal.

“It’s very sweet, Ma’am. Like you I assume,” he added, mentally dusting off the part of his brain where he stored skills for conversing with pretty girls.

You laughed, holding your free hand up to your mouth to cover your lips that widened and revealed your teeth.

“Is that the southern charm that I hear our townspeople talk about?”

“They talk about my charm? I didn’t hear.”

“Oh yes, they do… Joel Miller, charming pants off of everyone in town.”

“Pants? Well that’s disappointing. I was hoping I’d charmed some pretty skirts off.”

“Lots of experience with that, Mister Miller?” you asked, sliding your hand over the soft fabric of the skirt of your dress. Such delicate fabric. He could fist the hem and give it one tug and it’d rip right off.

“More ‘n what you got for sure,” he said, loath to hint at how infrequent his encounters had become in the recent past. Tess died, he did a cross country hike with an annoying kid, he needed to maintain a good reputation in his new town. One buried after the other. Enough to leave a man with nothing but his fist and his imagination. He would kill for a fucking Playboy magazine. Literally. He’d killed for less.

“What do you know about how experienced I am?”

“Been experiencing longer than you’ve been alive, Ma’am.”

“Oh well. Nothing I can’t learn.”

He laughed nervously and stuck his hand in his jeans pocket. Surely you couldn’t be flirting… Why would a young thing like this flirt with him? He was in his late fifties looking like mid sixties and you were… He didn’t know. Young.

“If you could teach me, Mister Miller. Give a girl some experience?”

“I’m sure you can find someone else.”

“Oh. Not your type, am I?” you asked, and he deluded himself thinking you sounded disappointed. No chance.

He didn’t have a type. Long time since he thought of frivolous shit like that. But you shouldn’t be his type.

“There’s much more eligible men in town is what I’m saying,” he said, suddenly hesitant to lie. Lying had never been an issue for him. The right thing was to lie, say you weren’t his type so he wouldn’t cross lines. It’d been a long time since he did the right thing.

“I’ll be the decider of that,” you said with a shrug of your shoulder before taking the empty glass from him. “Have a good rest of the work day, Mister Miller.”

Later that night, he wrapped his fist around his cock in the privacy of his room. His mind flooded with images of you spread out for him, sweet lips and a sweeter pussy milking him. He couldn’t even recall the last time he was with a woman. It was Tess, of course. Sometime before she got thrown in FEDRA jail for the last time. Too fucking long ago.

Surely it was only because it’d been a long time since he got his dick wet. He’d never, in his entire life, pictured a woman so much younger spreading her legs for him. Sucking his cock. Crying out his name. How old was she even? Not past mid twenties for sure.

It was wrong, he knew, as white hot spend spurted out of his cock and covered his hand. A sour tang took over his mouth as the fog of unadulterated lust cleared up to reveal the ugliness in his head. He shuddered, feeling like something had crawled under his flesh. He hadn’t felt guilt like this in so long.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

You weren’t even as old as his kid would be had she been alive.

He’d known men like that back in the day. Grays in their hair and skin like old leather, but pretty young things old enough to be their daughter hanging off their arm. It was obvious that none of them kept these girls around for love or for their personality. It was always sex and the feeling of self-importance when a sweet young thing paid attention to balding heads, beer bellies and limp dicks that needed a blue pill to get up.

Fucking disgusting.

He began avoiding you whenever you happened to be in the same space. At the house of worship, the town clinic where you interned, trading days when people exchanged what they had for what they wanted. His eyes never met yours and he always quickly looked away when they stared too long at your uh…feminine features– pretty legs, cute ass, round tits. Where the fuck did you get sundresses anyway? Who kept that shit around in this world?

He didn’t know that when he avoided you, you took note of him. When he took glances of your features, you memorized his for later in the night when you buried your head in your pillow and pushed your fingers inside your pussy to simulate what it must be like to be with a man.

He was older. That much you knew from his grey hair, sun-damaged skin, and gait that exuded bone-deep weariness. You knew Tommy had just turned fifty. Hard to miss occasions that meant a free slice of cake from the canteen. Joel had to be in his mid-fifties at the very least. At first glance, he wasn’t what you’d consider handsome. There were younger men in town. Fit and muscular. Didn’t groan and scrunch up their faces when they got up. Didn’t have lines on their foreheads. No bags under their eyes.

Yet there was something about Joel that was more entrancing.

After your first meeting when you offered him lemonade, you made sure to visit under the guise of worship. You didn’t know much about religion and were conflicted about embracing a god. The only faith you had rested in your medical instruments and the medicines the town’s chemist concocted. But it was a nice place to meet people, to check on healing patients.

The visits were worth it for a glimpse of Joel’s large hands wrapped around his carpentry tools. When the sun was the hottest, he sometimes stripped down to his tank top, giving you a show better than any film played in the community theater. His broad back looked masculine enough in his flannel shirts. But you didn’t know desire like the first time you saw him in a white tank, showing off his muscular arms as sweat dripped down his tan skin.

When you pleasured yourself in your room, it took time, imagination, your fingers, and a lot of effort to make slick pool in your pussy. That day, all it took was the sight of Joel Miller working. You sat with your thighs pressed together, rubbing them against each other in the most inconspicuous little movements.

Could it be blasphemy if the God who was supposedly orchestrating everything made this man take his shirt off in front of you?

It made no fucking sense. Joel was old. He looked like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed every goddamn day. He had been chewed up and spat out by whatever the fuck was outside Jackson these days. Hardened expressions, graying patchy beard, hands calloused from carpentry and decades of using weaponry. Features that only indicated a long life lived, not attractiveness.

You were supposed to be attracted to the soft, sweet ones like the guys in the worn out copies of romance stories that the previous inhabitant of your house stashed in the basement. Even his little brother would be a more reasonable target for your lust. Younger, taller, softer, head full of dark, silky hair with few grays. But you wanted Joel Miller with his rough graying beard that would prick your skin were you to cup his cheek like the women on the novel covers.

Something about him just screamed Man. Something that none of the other guys in town had. There was nothing wrong with any of the other Jackson men, but none of them made you want to take the plunge and lose your virginity. It wasn’t the lack of offers, per se. You’d gotten looks from many eligible Jackson bachelors. You had drinks with a few of them. Dinner with fewer and shared a kiss with more than one. Alright, two. But anything beyond that had you trembling in anxiety.

It wasn’t anything precious to you, virginity. But you’d waited so long. Focused so long only on survival and then helping to build this town and now training to become a doctor. Whatever passed for doctor these days. With all your life dedicated to everything but your love life, you simply had no experience. What if you messed up and they laughed? You knew anatomy, but that didn’t translate to practical stuff. What if you couldn’t make them feel good? You’d have to see the guy all the damn time in the small town. There would be no escaping the awkwardness.

Sure it was counterintuitive to keep pushing away sexual encounters because you had no experience. But you didn’t know what else to do. You were too old already to not have done anything. But each day that passed with you rejecting perfectly nice men meant you were getting even older for your first time.

You didn’t know where Joel fit into your need for exploring your sexuality, but it didn’t hurt to stare. God knew everyone else in Jackson did.

So you stared. Work with his carpentry tools. Riding on horseback into Jackson after patrol. Helping with the fucking sheep. Walking around with Tommy. Carrying his nephew around town. It should be inappropriate to be fantasizing about a man when he was doing something as innocent as carrying a baby. But seeing his large hand cradling the baby’s little head made you want to scream into your pillow and kick your legs.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

Your heart fluttered and you let out a nervous laugh at being caught. You smoothed out the wrinkles on your clothes just to make it look like you were alright. Unfortunately you were wearing a pair of fucking jeans. You didn’t even want to know how awkward you looked.

“‘m alright, Mister Miller.”

“Joel’s fine,” he said, rocking his nephew in his arms.

Oh fuck, his fucking arms!

“Oh I don’t know,” you said, fidgeting with a belt loop on your jeans. “Wouldn’t want to be impolite addressing you by your first name like that.”

He smiled, recalling your conversation from the house of worship when you called him Sir and had him fucking himself in the shower to the memory. “Ah. ‘cause I’m an old man,” he said, more as a reminder to himself to fucking behave.

“You’re not that old…” you trailed, looking him over in a way that set fire to every inch of skin that you laid eyes on.

Behave, Miller. You’re out with your nephew.

“That so?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

“Mhmm. You don’t look a day over seventy.”

He snorted, making Miles stir in his arms just a little. That stung a little. It shouldn’t. Your estimation of his age, whether you were serious or not, was reminder enough that he was too old to be lusting after you.

“Thanks. I’m actually eighty-two.”

You giggled your pretty little giggle, lowering your gaze to the ground and looking back up only when it had turned into a wide grin. “How old are you actually?”

“Old. Fifty six.”

“Fifty-six isn’t that old…” you trailed as you brought a hand up to his bicep. Joel gulped, praying to the non-existent God that you would stop before praying to the same God that you would keep your hand right there. God answered his second prayer. You squeezed, licked your lips and looked up at him with your doe eyes.

“Checking if the hardware is still working, Doctor?”

“I’m not a doctor yet.”

“When do you become one then? Ain’t no Harvard handing out medical degrees in this town.”

“Howard?” you asked, squinting at him. Ah, of course you didn’t know. Harvard didn’t mean the same thing to you. Now it was just like every other building in Boston. Run over by infected. These ones were just the nerdy kind with glasses on.

“That was a thing, too. But I said Harvard. They were big universities back then.”

“Ah. Did you go there?” You asked, with no malice or bite. Oh, bless your heart. No one expected a dummy like him to have gone to university at all, much less Harvard. No one in his family had gone. Sarah was meant to be the first.

“Yeah. Traded some oxy and threw molotovs at clickers in the campus.”

You rewarded him with a giggle and that was incentive enough for him to keep going. “Guys like me didn’t get into Harvard. Or Howard. Didn’t even go to community college. I finished high school and got a job in construction.”

“You didn’t go to uh…construction college?” You asked, cocking your head and raising an eyebrow as though testing out the term.

“No such thing. Well, there were civil engineering programs, but I just learned on the job.”

“Like me.”

“Guess so. I see you reading from all those fat medical books. But there’s no need to study any books in construction. ‘cept if you wanna be an engineer or architect or something, which I’m not.”

“Maybe you should write one. We could all do with some knowledge from before. It’s important to document it, pass it on to Ellie and little Miles over there.”

“I ain’t writing books, sweetheart. Don’t think I even remember how to write much. I’ll just keep to fixing things up in this town. So, if you need some help with your place…I’m happy to help.” It was the least he could do. Maybe as some kind of penance for having impure thoughts about you. Or as a fucked up trade for starring in the mental images he conjured to jack off in the shower.

“There is something, actually. But I don’t have anything to trade for, so I’ll wait until I do,” you said, clasping your hands behind your back and swaying in place in an endearing manner.

“Nonsense. You patched me up just last week. You’ve done enough for the town’s health to not have to trade for anything ever again.”

“Well, no. That’s not how it should be… It’s people’s health. Can’t put a price on that.”

“Believe it or not, health had a steep price back in the day. Cost four thousand something just to give birth. Double that if they had to cut you open.” And that was just how much it cost when Sarah was born. He was sure it had only gone up by 2003. If he hadn’t worked his ass off, there was no way he could’ve escaped debt. It helped that his Ma and his then wife’s parents helped with childcare. Would’ve been even more expensive without that.

“Damn. I don’t know how much that is, since…y’know we don’t have money now. But that sounds like a big number. It shouldn’t cost anything just to be born.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, shaking his head. “But listen. Anything you want fixed, I’ll help out. You can give me something later if you’re worried. I know Ellie’s always on the look for new books to read and you seem to have a lot of them.”

“Nothing Ellie would like. Not like the special limited edition of Savage Starlight or anything. Just medical textbooks and romance novels.”

“We could trade for the lemonade from that afternoon,” he insisted, desperate to do something for you. Take care of you as you took care of everyone who walked into the clinic be it papercuts or a fucking knife in their abdomen.

“Alright. Trade for the lemonade it is then,” you said, giving in to his pressure.

“Now tell me. What d’ya need fixed?”

⌘⌘⌘

It had been a few days since Joel promised to fix your shower for you. Each time he came by and rang your doorbell, you hid somewhere away from your windows. When he caught sight of you in public, you quickly walked away or engaged in conversation with someone else. You didn’t need shit fixed. Everything in your house was perfectly alright. Tommy and his guys had given the place a complete makeover just a couple months before Joel and Ellie arrived.

You were no paragon of honesty, but you didn’t make lying a habit. There were a few white lies here and there and this was meant to be one of them. It just didn’t fucking hit you that if you lied to a contractor that your shower was broken, he would eventually come over to fucking fix it. All your desperate sex starved brain wanted that day was for Joel Miller to come use his tools in your room and flex those muscles while at it.

So invested were you in that particular fantasy that as you unwound after a long shift at the clinic, it was with Joel’s beefy arms in mind. You stood in front of your mirror, taking in your reflection. One of the magazines you’d found in a box under your bed laid open on the dressing table. Playboy. Entertainment for Men. Each had a scantily clad woman on the cover. And many more inside.

You made comparisons to yourself and the woman in the center page of the issue.

She stood in front of a dressing table too, but much different from how you stood. Her legs were on either side of her dressing table chair and her hands on the top of it. Between her arms were breasts, big and round and with smooth skin. They didn’t have any marks on them like yours. No moles, no stretch marks. Just plain. And she just stood there, soft brown hair down, tickling the top of her breasts and her lips parted as she gazed at you. No, at the men she was meant to entertain in this men’s entertainment magazine. All she had on was panties that went high up to her flat belly that connected to high transparent socks.

You reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, wishing that you had something nicer like the woman on the cover of another one of the magazines. Bright red and showing off her breasts wonderfully, but pulled down to reveal almost everything. What was the point of a bra then if it didn’t cover or support anything? Entertainment, you decided. Men seemed to be very entertained by breasts.

Many a man had stared at yours even though you had them behind layers of fabric unlike the naked women of the magazines. Many had conversations with them instead of your face. Some brushed up against them ‘accidentally’. Joel thought he was being covert, but you felt his brown eyes rove all over them. You thought maybe that he too would brush up against it sometime, but he never did. Maybe entertainment stopped at just looking, as in the magazines.

You wondered if Joel sought out men’s entertainment magazines like this. He was from before everything went to shit, so it was very possible that he did. Did he like the women in these pages, sticking their asses out and looking through the pages at him? Would he be entertained if he saw you like this?

You didn’t know that if you turned your head to your bedroom door, you would have your answer. Joel’s cock strained against his already tight jeans as he stood awestruck by your figure. He swallowed as you held on to the top of the chair and lifted your knees, one after the other and placed them on the plush seat. You arched your back, a little too much at first before reducing the curve. Your ass stuck out enticingly and he didn’t know whether to grab, squeeze, slap, or spread your cheeks apart and fuck your ass.

He should leave.

It was stupid of him to walk into your house with a box of plumbing tools to fix your shower when you hadn’t yet given him a date or time for it. Plus you were avoiding him. Running away with your little friends and picking up stuff to hide your face from his view. He was plenty sure that when he’d rung your doorbell, you weren’t always away from home.

He should leave.

Fixing the shower could wait. He could confront you some other day.

But you were putting on such a pretty little show in nothing but your panties and he was only a man. A bad one.

His boots stayed put on your hardwood floors as you enjoyed yourself in front of the mirror. You spread your knees and let your fingers between your thighs, eyes closed, lips parted and low whines escaping your lips in just a few minutes. He palmed his growing erection over his jeans, consequences of being caught be damned. He was a foul beast already. What bad was another sin on the list? Besides, you were the one who’d left the fucking door open.

Your soft whimpers grew into moans as you brought yourself closer and he forced his feet to stay put despite their urge to walk up to you and give you something to really moan about.

“Fuu– mmm Joel, pleeease.”

He let out a gasp, all his restraint flying out the window as soon as he heard his name from your lips. You couldn’t actually be doing this… There had to be another Joel in town. Younger, better looking, smarter.

Your voice grew needy and the pitch higher as you kept at it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Gimme it, Sir.”

No, it couldn’t be anyone else.

Joel toed his boots off and took quiet steps towards you, emboldened by the filth that spilled from your lips. If this old man was what you wanted, he wouldn’t stop himself from reaping the benefits. He wasn’t a goddamn saint. Never was.

He stopped in front of you, surprised you still hadn’t sensed his presence. As though the universe heard his thoughts, it had you open your eyes. You gasped as soon as you saw him and buckled off the chair, but Joel caught you. You shuddered, unable to cope with the sudden touch.

“J-Joel?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he said, touching your cheek with the back of his hand. You whined, your body molding itself against his chest. You brought a hand to his arm, feeling the rock hard muscles underneath his sleeves and your other hand worked between your legs.

Your fingers no longer felt adequate as you felt his large fingers on your cheek. “Want you, please,” you whined, desperate to return to the edge where you had been right before you saw him.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me…” he spoke dangerously, soft brown eyes clouded with a kind of desire you had longed to see in him for weeks.

“Want you…want you to be with me,” you repeated stupidly, your desperation clouding your senses too much for you to say anything else. While in the past you only wanted to get rid of your virginity, your goals had become more specific with his arrival. You wanted him. You wanted his big hands and broad shoulders, to hold on to them as you rode him. To watch his grumpy expressions turn to ecstasy under you.

“Tell me not to touch you,” he said, his tone low and almost threatening. Any other threat from him, you would’ve heeded. But not this one.

“Touch me!”

It was as though something in him snapped at your words. While darkness only loomed over him before, it now completely took over.The hand that previously only caressed your cheek now wrapped itself around your neck. Before you could completely process the move, his other hand slapped yours away. He replaced two of your puny fingers with his middle finger, eliciting a strained moan from you.

“Touching yourself to a Playboy magazine, huh?”

You only nodded, unable to form words now that a fantasy of yours had finally come to life.

“Dirty little thing…Thought you were a nice girl and all. Helpin’ out at the clinic, head buried in books all the time. Turns out you actually got your head in dirty magazines.”

You whined, your pussy clenching and gushing around his finger at the way he was speaking to you. The same man who insisted on calling you Ma’am despite your protests was calling you a dirty girl now. The veil of respectability seemed to have floated away at the sight of you naked and pleasuring yourself. Had you known that this was all you needed to get Joel Miller to touch you, you would’ve done it much sooner.

He added another finger, the girth of him enough to stretch you more than you had done for yourself. You brought a hand up to his shoulder and fisted his shirt, needing something to anchor yourself to.

“You ever been taken by a man, sweetheart?” He asked, his tone too cool and casual for what he was doing to you. You shuddered, partly from his phrasing– taken, he said. Taken. Like you were a thing. Like the women in the magazines positioned so uncomfortably just so their breasts could look a certain way for the picture. Printed on the cover page with the words Entertainment for Men written on top. You shook your head, feeling small as you confessed it for the first time.

“Any man?”

“N-no,” you managed to breathe out, whimpering at the way the bulge beneath his jeans twitched at your simple answer. He took a step to position himself behind you, letting you lean your back against his chest. The angle at which he touched your pussy changed, opening your world up to a wonderful new kind of pleasure.

“A virgin. Pretty young things like you ain’t for men like me,” he whispered in your neck, making you shiver. His thumb roamed between your legs as far as they could reach, caressed you gently, his softness with you contradicting his warning about men like him. The hand around your neck slithered down your torso, cold air forcing you to face your new desire of having your breath kept hostage.

He took your left breast in hand, squeezing the flesh like someone starved would hold on to a piece of bread. It felt more like a punctuation to the warning he issued than a part of sex. Just then, his thumb between your legs stopped its search, stopping a little above the fingers inside you.

A moan you didn’t recognize as yours at first filled the room and you buckled forward. Blunt nails sunk into the flesh of your breast as he saved you before you could fall. He hauled you back up, making you collide against his chest.

You gasped and quickly grabbed the hand between your legs, the sensation too intense for you to know what to do with. His thumb kept on, rolling over something there that set your person on fire.

“Fuuuck! Joel– I– I– hnnng–”

“I know, sweetheart,” he crooned, keeping at whatever the hell he was doing to make you feel this way.

“Please… I don’t– what was that?”

You felt his chest rumble before you heard his laughter. Heat rose to your face and your throat felt strained though there was no hand around it anymore.

“Never touched your clit? Do you even know what that is?” He mocked, the cruelty somehow not repelling you from him. He forced you to look up at him. Your heart lurched at how close you were to his face. You could see every gray hair, every minute blemish and line.

“Don’t know your own fucking body but you want a man? You don’t know what you’re handing me on a silver platter. I ain’t like the other guys in town. I walked across the fucking country and lemme tell ya, there’s no pretty things like you out there. I’m starved.”

“Take me, then,” you begged, using his own words from earlier. “Please. Whatever you– a-aaah!”

He ramped up the pressure on that spot– your clit– and with it, took your ability to speak coherently. It was as though he’d done it on purpose. You hated it. To be so bereft of control. To be a puppet in someone’s hand. For someone to acquaint themselves with parts of you that you didn’t know of. But it was too much to fight, so you let go. Let him play with you. Take you. Like a thing.

You renounced control of your lips too, his name slipping out effortlessly like it did when he caught you. Then you renounced what was left of your dignity and began begging relentlessly. For what, you didn’t know. In his hand, you’d gone from woman to pupper, your strings pulled by a man, your voice now his. Sounds that would be indiscernible from that of a wounded animal emanated from somewhere deep within you.

Perhaps none of this was real. Why else did your own voice grow so distant from you? Why did your vision become blurry? Your thighs shook uncontrollably and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. Your eyes clenched shut, depriving you of your blurred vision. Your toes curled. You wanted to shrink into yourself, shrink away from all this goodness. You went higher and higher, soaring like a bird. Every nerve ending in your body felt electrified, awoken like one switch turned on every light on last winter’s Christmas tree.

You let out a loud cry, the soaring bird in you reaching its peak before beginning its fall to the ground. You could hear your breaths again, labored but doing everything to stabilize itself. Your thighs still shook. Your chest rose and fell. A hand caressed your hand. Behind you, something strong supported your back. Kept you from falling backward.

“Joel…”

“I know, I know…” he whispered into your head. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, surprised to see a softer visage. He picked you up off the chair like you’d seen him lift giant logs before. With ease. You didn’t protest as he carried you. Didn’t protest when he laid you out on your bed.

He bent down and picked something up. No questions, no instructions. He simply spread your leg away from the other. Cold air touched the gushing mess dripping out of you and you shivered, feeling a sudden need to cover yourself but unable to defy him. His hand was on your pussy again. His hardened, calloused fingers behind a soft fabric this time. He wiped upwards, collecting the mess he made out of you. When he lifted the fabric up, you realized it was your panties.

He tucked it into the pocket of his jeans and then looked back at your face, the intensity of his gaze making you want to run. Problem was your weak legs wouldn’t take you anywhere. You didn’t screw your eyes shut. You didn’t pull your blanket to conceal yourself. You looked back at him, defiant. Like you were trying to prove something. I can handle a man like you.

“Be a good girl from now.”

That and a condescending pat on your pussy and he was gone.

⌘

Part 2

#joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller age gap #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #all that i've inflicted on the world

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oncomingnight · 8 months

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Salvatore ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.! "My diehard, My weakness."

-Yandere! Male Model x Reader ｡ﾟ❃ུ۪

Hello everyone, I apologize for my absence but I'm finally able to write and put something out for all of you! I hope you enjoy and never hesitate in reaching out to me, I'm here to listen.

Yassine was signed with the most highly renowned modeling agency that was in the industry. His appearance was completely entrancing, capable of stunning any person that had the privilege of seeing him in person. Everything that had contributed to his 'mysterious' demeanor was absolutely divine and could fill any person with envy. His brown bushy brows, beauty marks scattered over his body & face, dark brown circles as his irises, soft tufts of darkly colored hair, light pink plump lips, arms & hands filled with veins and a height startling to the human eye.

Despite his capability of looking like the most unapproachable man alive, he's incredibly tender-hearted and altruistic. The feeling of his muscular arms being wrapped around your waist in a comforting manner is the best form of reassurance you could ever receive. Yassine quite obviously adores you and he could never go an hour without going on about how devoted he is to you.

Traveling is something he enjoys an incredible amount, especially with you, and only you. He'll show you his favorite areas and'll make sure you're having the best time you could ever have with him. The amount of money he spends on you will act as a concern to you but Yassine doesn't mind, the two of you have different mindsets. Why should he categorize the amount of money he spends on you as a negative? It isn't something malicious when it's in favor of you.

Yassine is incredibly protective of you and he isn't afraid to act on that aspect of him. Someone could be poking fun at you in a non-hurtful manner but he'll still be quick to tell them to cut it out .

"Aye, watch it." "Wanna say that one more time?"

He's been in his fair share of fights and they've all been over you. If he's in an argument with someone else and they bring you up, they're leaving the function with several broken bones. Yassine couldn't care less if he's in a public space, if someone wants to try him and bring up his biggest weakness, he's going to stoop low. He's immensely stubborn and will defend his actions when you question him on how quick he is to fight. "He deserved it and you know it, شہزادی", he says as you clean up the bloody cut above his tatted knuckles.

Whenever he's being interviewed for magazines or podcasts, he'll always mention you or find a way to do so. The delicate manner in which he speaks about you is so endearing, making anyone interviewing him stare in admiration.

When Yassine has to travel for a casting, you're always going with him. He finds great pride in being able to properly take care of you and show you the depths of his love. He will be the first one there when you're in need of any type of assistance, all you need his him and all he needs is you.

He is all about intimacy and showing you just how vulnerable he's willing to be when it comes to you. When the two of you are having an intimate conversation, he's all about eye contact. "Hey, look at me, baby. I'll do anything for you to realize just how much you mean to me. I worship you, you know that?"

His hands are always on you no matter the time of day. It doesn't matter if you're wearing an outfit that covers your entire body, leaving everything to the imagination, his hands are going to be squeezing and rubbing you because he's not the best at containing himself. His ringed fingers being placed onto your thigh, rubbing them back and forth as he murmurs something along the lines of, "So goddamn beautiful" ,and, "you know how much I love this dress."

Wherever the two of you go, you're always seated on his lap. In his defense, it's comfortable and do you really think they clean these publicly used chairs?

Yassine loves taking you out on little trips that include doing things you deeply enjoy. He'll take you on a road trip that's filled with country roads and farm fields, laughing when you point to an area and call out, "look, there's horses!" He enjoys taking you shopping and purchasing items that you've spoken about wanting. Do you want clothing made with fine fabric? You got it. Do you want perfectly curated cosmetics? You got it. Do you simply want cute little trinkets that'll go on your bookshelf? You got it.

Lingerie? Oh, he's buying that anyway.

There's nothing he loves more than going on a little getaway trip and seeing the beauties of a certain country with you. He cherishes being able to cuddle up all close to you in your shared Airbnb , nuzzling his head into your neck, kissing your jugular and whining when you try to get up for any reason.

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randomshyperson · 2 years

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High School Sweethearts - Cheerleader!Wanda x Reader [Kinktober]

Summary: The new student captures your attention completely. She's perfect and she's everything you ever wanted.

Warnings: hints of corruption/innocence kink, first kiss, first time, virgin!Wanda, smut, teasing, some edging, fingering, strap-on use, top!reader, high school au | Words: 6.923k

A/N-> My first time writing something of this kink be kind. I'm absorbing the latest episode of She-Hulk yet, someone needs to send Jen hugs.

Kinktober Collection | General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

It was Kate who told you about the new students.

It was Tuesday, and the school was full of burbs all over the hall. You were late and a little irritated because you had argued with your father on the way - Steve Rogers could be many things, and stubborn was most of them. - and so you weren't the least bit interested in the daily gossip that your colleagues might have.

Still, Kate was one of your favorite people and she was so sweet that you didn't have the heart to ignore her attempts to get close during her freshman year, and now, she was a sophomore and you were graduating, and even though you weren't in the same classes, you were inseparable.

"I hear they're the mayor's kids, and Y/N, you have to see, the two of them look like they stepped off a magazine cover." She excitedly narrates her encounter with the new students in the cafeteria. "If they weren't wearing their Avengers High uniforms, I would have mistaken them for models, I swear."

You chuckle, finishing picking up your books and closing your locker.

"Be careful not to drool too much, Bishop. Or your girlfriend will get jealous." You tease, but Kate doesn't laugh, assuming a momentarily fearful expression and looking around to see if Yelena wasn't somewhere listening in on the conversation.

The reaction only makes you laugh harder.

It takes three periods before you finally see the new students. By then, you have heard half the school talking about them, and you know they are twins, and yes, really the mayor's children because Darcy Lewis shows you a picture on her cell phone with the whole family landing in the local paper.

"They're cute, but it's no big deal." You mutter to Kate after looking at the photo, and she and Darcy share a nasal laugh.

"You'll change your mind when you see them in person." Your friend says, looking forward again because Professor Harkness has just entered the room.

Darcy puts her cell phone away, and you sigh, "I highly doubt it, I study with the most beautiful girls in the world, I'm not easy to impress. " You compliment them charmingly and Darcy and Kate laugh softly, rolling their eyes in good humor.

It's not a lie what you said, yet when between the penultimate and last period, a lost-looking girl bumps into you in the hallway, you are momentarily speechless at the greenish irises in front of you.

"Sorry, I didn't see you." She mutters in apology, stooping to grab the book she has knocked over and return it to you.

As you pick it up, you don't let go. "But I did see you. You're the new girl, right?"

She smiles in surprise, hugging her own notebook. "Yeah, that's me. I'm Wanda. We just moved here from New York-"

You raise a hand in the air and Wanda falls silent in confusion, but you smile gently.

"Why don't you tell me that, and whatever you want, over coffee?"

She blushes very hard, opening her mouth a few times before giving a shy laugh. "S-sure, I like coffee."

You move closer and take out the pen attached to her notebook. You take the cap off with your teeth, and Wanda watches the item with hot cheeks the entire time you are pulling out a sheet of paper and writing your number in her notebook.

As you return the pen, you smile at her. "Don't forget to text, I'm dying to know the end of your story." You tell her, offering a gentle nod before leaving.

Wanda sighs loudly, leaning her back on the lockers. A silly smile fills her face, and she stands for a good few minutes trying to understand what just happened and why her legs are so shaky.

–//–

You go out for coffee after class on Thursday, and for thirty whole minutes, you try not to stare at the legs exposed by her cheer skirt.

Wanda is so beautiful it hurts, and her near cluelessness only makes her more attractive.

You clear your throat quietly because she is a really very interesting person and you want to know more about her.

You learn that she was born in Sokovia - which explains her delightful accent that distracts you with every word - and that she moved to New York when her parents divorced. She is the younger twin, but not the sister, as her father has another girl named Lorna who is in middle school. It is also Wanda's first time attending school, and when she says this you widen your eyes slightly.

"Are you kidding me?" You question pushing the coffee creamer with your straw, she laughs lightly.

"No, I swear." She assures you humorously, mimicking your movements without realizing it in her own drink. "My dad is the overprotective type, and Pietro and I have been homeschooled all our lives. But it's senior year and somehow we managed to convince him that it was an important experience. Pietro wants a scholarship for athletics and I, well, I'd like to do cinema."

You smile. "So you like movies?"

Her face lights up even more. "I love movies! I know it's a very competitive industry, but my dream is to work as a film director! I love writing stories, and it would be so amazing to bring them to the screen and... I'm boring you, aren't I?" she interrupts, her cheeks a little red. "Sorry, I get too excited-"

"No, you're not." You interrupt her, "I like hearing you talk, go ahead."

Wanda blushes, even more, lowering her embarrassed gaze to her own lap before smiling shyly.

She tells you more about her dream of being a filmmaker, and about her family not liking the idea of her not pursuing a more secure career, and you make a point of encouraging her to do what she likes and not what others think is right, and Wanda is so flustered she hardly knows how to thank you.

You realize that it is getting late, and if you don't come back now, your father will probably find a new problem to discuss, so you tell Wanda that you have to go. She seems sad about this ending, and yet is still too shy to call you out on anything else. When she builds up the courage to do so, you think your heart won't hold out from all the cuteness.

"We could... I don't know, have tea? Or soda?" She invites clumsily, and you laugh softly just enough to make the redness of her cheeks worse.

Finishing putting on your jacket, you retort:

"I have a better idea, filmmaker girl. Want to go over to the house for Netflix&Chill?"

It's a test or a joke with real intent, and Wanda falls right in.

"Of course! I have like a dozen recommendations, and we could watch something by Kubrick or maybe Burton..."

You bite your lip, you're the one who fell. For her, and it was in the blink of an eye.

"Sure, Wanda, any movie you want." That's what you answer, deciding to keep the not going to be much-watching part to yourself.

–//–

Wanda lived on the edge of Westview, which meant that you could use the subway. But part of you wanted to impress her, so when Bucky let you use his motorcycle, you didn't miss your chance.

"Don't scratch it." He repeated the instructions, the key at face height. You raised your hand to take it, and he lifted the item a little further. "And what's our deal?"

You rolled your eyes. "Three hours out of the house for you to have a date night with my father. I could sue you for the trauma." You joked making him laugh before you managed to steal the key.

"Just text me when you're on your way. And please-"

"No scratches." You completed with an impatient sigh.

While your stepfather had his date night with your dad - whom you were avoiding as much as possible mainly because the deadline for sending admission letters was coming up and you had no idea what you were going to do and didn't want him pressing ideas on you - you made your way across town to see Wanda Maximoff and her stupidly adorable face.

Just as you imagined, she was excited by your arrival on the motorcycle, equally so from Pietro who started asking you questions as soon as you properly introduced yourself, but you noticed that Wanda's father was not too happy.

"You must be Y/N." He said as soon as Wanda guided you to the fancy balcony like all the rest of the house and the well-molded garden.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Maximoff." You spoke, which made him chuckle slightly.

"Actually it's Lehnsherr, Maximoff is their mother's maiden name." He clarified, and you feigned interest, nodding softly.

"Papa, Y/N, and I are going to watch a movie in my room." Said the girl - She was wearing a long sweatshirt and shorts that disappeared with the garment covering it, and you were having a hard time trying to not imagine what it would be like to slide your hand under there.

Erik looked you up and down as if he could read all your naughty intentions at once.

"Open door always, Wanda." He warned with his arms crossed, and Wanda chuckled confusedly, pulling you by the hand toward her bedroom.

You heard Erik ask Pietro questions about you, but your gaze was more attentive to the movement of Wanda's hips leading upstairs.

"Your house is quite beautiful, Wanda." You comment once she leads you into the bedroom. "Not as beautiful as the owner, of course."

She giggles embarrassed at the compliment, and you take the opportunity to kick the door discreetly shut. "Come sit here, I've set everything up for us."

She did, you could see the laptop, the drinks, and the popcorn. A proper movie session with Wanda in her fancy room, and you sighed lightly as you took off your shoes and jacket to sit on the bed next to her.

"What movie did you pick for us, pretty girl?" Your compliments were visually making her flustered, but she still said nothing, adjusting herself on the bed to reach for her laptop. "I was thinking of watching some classic, so I've sorted out some options for us."

She showed you a list that made you smile warmly. All the movies were good, but none had what you wanted to do with Wanda.

"I have a better suggestion, and I'm sure you've never seen this one." You told her as you moved the laptop to your own lap to search. She tried to peek, and you pulled away with a laugh. "No peeking, it's a surprise."

She laughed, shaking her head but holding herself in place. " All right."

"You're Jewish, right?" Your question surprised her a little, but she murmured in agreement the next second. You noticed many things on the way to her room, including the Jewish items that filled the blanks in your head about what you knew about the girl next to you. "Another reason for you to love this movie."

"So mysterious." She murmured humorously getting a soft chuckle from you. Once you had chosen and the start credits began to roll, Wanda bit her lip curiously. "What's it about?"

You crossed your ankles together. "Temptation."

Wanda looked at you. "What?"

"Watch the movie, movie girl." You retorted amused and she chuckled softly before turning her attention back to the screen.

For the first few minutes of Disobedience, Wanda was a little upset. The story is sad in its complexity, and dealt with the fanatical religious obsession of a Jewish community and the harm to the protagonists' freedom. And at first, she didn't catch what the film was really about.

She thought it was sweet that you had brought a movie about her family's religion until the first kissing scene made her cheeks blush.

"Oh, they were a couple..." The words escape you before she can count them, and you lick your lips to contain your own anxiety.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Your whisper is curious in totality, and Wanda laughs in confusion, taking her gaze off the screen.

"What? No, of course not." She retorts, turning her attention back to the film. " They are sweet. I mean, the story is sad as hell, but they're sweet."

You smile, a relief filling your chest. You are about to make a comment when the door opens, and the moody figure of Erik appears.

"I told you I wanted the door open." He reminisces as Wanda pauses the movie.

"Sorry, papa, it must have closed with the wind." She half-heartedly clarifies, and you bite your tongue to hold back the impatient sigh of having your moment interrupted.

"I have a dinner with the Congress people now, I just came to say good night, dear. And please don't delay Miss Rogers' stay here too long, driving late at night is dangerous."

You are about to say you will go as soon as the movie is over when Wanda comments:

"She could sleep here." And Erik hesitates just as you do. Wanda swallows dryly. "If you want to, of course. What if it's okay with you, papa?"

You have trouble hiding your smile, and Erik looks ready to make up an excuse when his cell phone rings. He sighs impatiently.

"Sure, we have a guest room. Good night to you." He says before answering the phone and leaving the room, talking about work until his voice fades from the distance.

Wanda leaves the movie paused, a confused expression on her face.

"He's acting so weird. This bed is big enough, why would I put you on the other side of the house?"

You stare at her and give an impressed laugh when you realize that Wanda simply doesn't know why.

"Wanda, your father doesn't want me to sleep in the same bed as you."

She frowns in confusion, "Why?"

You tilt your head. "He thinks we're going to fu-"

"Hey, I'm going at Quill's, can you cover for me if Dad asks for me when he gets back from his fancy dinner?" Pietro interrupts your speech as he enters the room, already holding the keys to the white pickup truck you've seen him drive a few times to school. Wanda blinks away from your intense gaze, a bit flustered.

"S-sure, Pietro, good night." She says very quickly, and the other looks between you and her with a suggestive expression.

"You two behave yourselves, huh? Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He teases, and Wanda grimaces. You chuckle.

"Sure thing, mary jane." You retort without hesitation and Pietro stops smiling at that instant. Wanda doesn't understand and probably doesn't know that Pietro smokes pot behind the gyms, and so before she can question the nickname, Pietro is muttering goodbye as he leaves the room.

"What was that...?" She asks but you shake your head, giving the movie a play.

"Let's keep watching, it's getting to the best part." Wanda sighs a little as you adjust and stay close enough for her to smell your perfume completely, effectively taking all attention away from the movie.

But she had to pay attention when the first moans started. In an instant, her cheeks burned, and Wanda tried to look as cool about it as she could.

You were tapping your fingers on your stomach, completely at ease with the intimate scene playing out on the screen in front of you, and it is impossible for Wanda to do the same.

Once she shifts uncomfortably, and you notice her clenching her thighs, you sigh.

"How was your first kiss?" Your question almost makes her choke, but Wanda is thankful that at least she has an excuse to look away from the movie's sex scene.

"Hum, I've never..."

"Really?" You cut her off gently, adjusting your weight on her arm to face her, and Wanda feels very nervous about all the attention. She nods, and you smile. "It's really hard to believe you didn't have a line of suitors."

Wanda chuckles embarrassedly, shaking her head. "Well, I don't know many people, you know? It's not like I had classmates studying at home. And when I wasn't studying, I was at some officional event, being my dad's perfect little girl."

The hidden bitterness in her sentence made you raise an eyebrow softly, the interest burning in your mind.

"I know the feeling, my father is a military man and loves to keep up appearances." You say, quietly closing the laptop in Wanda's lap. "But unlike you, I do whatever it takes to annoy him."

"Very naughty of you." She mutters half breathlessly because you are leaning over her suddenly. But it's only to put the closed laptop on the nightstand, and once you notice the way Wanda is blushing and breathing out of rhythm, a smile forms on your face.

"Wanda, I would like to be your first kiss." You whisper to her, and instead of pulling away, you rest a hand on the side of her head. "If you want that of course."

She chokes softly but nods almost frantically. "Yeah... I'd like that."

"Let's start with lesson one then. Close your bedroom door." You guide low against her lips, using every mental control to pull yourself away from her. Wanda gasps, but quickly moves in shaky steps off the bed to the bedroom door, and you hide a smile as you tuck yourself into her bed.

She surprises you a little when with trembling fingers, she locks the door.

"Just... for precaution." She clarifies embarrassed about the look on your face, but you just shrug.

"I'm not complaining." You tease. "Come here."

Wanda swallows dryly and wastes no time in obeying, walking back to the bed. She sits down a little further in front of you, and you hold out your hand for her to take, and once she does, you pull her gently to sit on your lap.

Wanda is trembling with nervousness, and her skin is warm to the touch. You lick your lips, trying to control yourself and not grab her right there and kiss and fuck her until she can't remember her own name, and it takes a lot of willpower when she looks so good all over you.

"You've never really kissed anyone, not even a small peck?" You ask sweetly, bringing your hand to her cheek for her to look at you. When she denies it with her head, you move closer. "Give me a peck then." She does so on the spot, and it's quick as expected, but it turns her cheeks into tomatoes. You smile, "Again. Longer this time."

She sighs, but nods and breaks the distance, pressing her lips over yours.

Instead of letting go, you place your hand on her cheek and kiss her back firmly, eliciting a surprised and affected sigh in return. She opens her mouth to breathe, and you slide your tongue inside.

Wanda makes a noise with her throat, moving restlessly in your lap but you guide the kiss until she gets used to the sensation and soon her breathless sighs sound like gasping pleas, her hands move to your shoulders and she tries to deepen.

Everything in her body begs for more - more of your hands, squeezing her waist, more of your tongue sucking hers, and more of you, everywhere you can touch. She feels hot and bothered, and it is as new and fantastic as it is overwhelming.

You kiss her until she starts to move her hips impatiently against your thigh, and then you know you have to stop now or you won't be able to pull it off later. The way your heart speeds up when she looks at you with puffy lips and dark eyes once the kiss is over only confirms this.

"Is everything okay?" Wanda speaks first, her voice shaky and husky, her face inches from yours.

You take a deep breath, offering her a small smile.

"Sure, I should just go home." You say, and you are already moving her off of you in the next moment, missing the other's confused look.

Once you have your shoes on, Wanda can't contain her concern.

"I...I did it wrong didn't I?"

You frown, turning to her as you put on your jacket. Wanda looks down at her own lap.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Wanda." You tell her, moving closer again to the end of the bed. "Listen." You say gesturing to her ear, and she is confused for just a second.

Next, she can hear her father outside the house, car noises, and something that sounds like complaints about a canceled dinner.

She looks at you again, and you are already kneeling on the bed to reach for her face.

"I'm just trying to keep you out of trouble." You explain as you caress her cheek. "I can't risk you getting grounded in this fancy mansion when I want to keep taking you out."

Her gaze glows hopeful. "You do?"

You smile, leaning in to kiss her intensely for a moment. "Of course I do." You assure her once you break the kiss, your gaze darkening afterward. "And I also want to come to your room, lie on your bed, and elicit all the delicious sounds you make when I kiss you."

Wanda chokes softly, leaning in to break the distance again, but you haven't offered her more than a peck, earning a grumble in return. "When are you going to kiss me again? For real."

"When do you want to?" you challenge back, and despite the pink of your cheeks, Wanda doesn't hesitate.

"Now."

You chuckle, pulling away. You open the door just before Erik comes up the stairs, and he grimaces, but you are already leaving the room. Before you do, you turn and offer a wink to Wanda, who once she is left in the room alone, sinks her face into her pillows, trying to make her heart stop beating so fast.

–//–

You wanted to take things slow with Wanda because in your experience, too fast burns and wears out at the same speed.

It is, however, quite difficult to keep your eyes off her.

Especially when she looks so irresistible in her cheer uniform.

"You're drooling." Yelena sneers beside you under the bleachers as you both skip chemistry class so she can smoke away from any teacher's attention.

"I definitely am." You retort without any concern, your gaze focused on the brunette from meters away. Yelena laughs dryly, taking a long drag on her cigarette.

"When are you going to make it official?"

"Why, so we can end up like Nat and Carol, fighting about the damn weather." You retort half impatiently, and Yelena hesitates a moment. She puffs smoke before answering.

"Carol cheated on Nat." She declares, and you gasp in surprise, looking at your friend with wide eyes. She shrugs her shoulders. "It was with a girl from State, at last year's championship. Nat tried to forgive her, but it''s been the same since summer. They're not fighting because of the weather, they're fighting because they're lying to each other."

You bite your tongue, turning your gaze back to Wanda in the field. She looks beautiful and giggles excitedly with her teammates when she gets her steps right.

"That doesn't make me feel confident about your suggestion, Lena." You murmur to her, and Yelena laughs lightly, taking one last drag before throwing the cigarette on the ground.

"Not every relationship sucks, Y/N." She begins. "Not everyone gets divorced like your parents, and not everyone cheats like my sister's girlfriend. Just look at me and Kate. I fucking love her, and I can't wait for us to be living in the same apartment."

You smile small. "I never said I loved anyone."

Yelena rolls her eyes, laughing softly. "It's in your face. And look where you are, simping over her while skipping class instead of doing anything else."

It's your turn to roll your eyes, a soft pink filling your cheek at being caught. "Shut up or I'll tell Kate you're looking for a place without her help."

Yelena laughs, "And I'll tell Maximoff that you're a stalker."

You grunt impatiently, leaving muttering that the field is a free-for-all, and missing the way Wanda looks through the rails to where you were sitting before.

As the weeks went by, and with the clear yet casual involvement between you, it was obvious to everyone how much influence you had in each other's lives.

You started showing up to more classes, and Wanda stole your leather jacket for her and learned to say no to her father when you learned to show up at family dinners.

She borrowed your clothes with the excuse that they smelled like you, and you brought home her classic DVDs almost every weekend.

And there was also a matching set of hickeys on your necks.

"Wanda, your father looks ready to blow up this car." You reminded her with a breathless giggle against her lips - because she insisted that you kiss her properly - before you dropped her off at home. She grunted impatiently, grabbing your chin so that you would take your attention away from the man with his arms crossed in the driveway, and focus on the girl sitting in the car seat gifted by your father after you said you had sent admission letters to colleges not so far from Wanda.

"I want to ask you something." She says, kissing you again briefly. "Do you want to sleep over at my place this weekend?"

You hum, kissing her again before retorting, "Is it some special occasion?"

She smiles, shaking her head. "Just missing you. And... it's the race finals weekend, so Dad and Pietro are traveling and we'll have the house to ourselves."

You choke softly, caught by surprise that it is Wanda suggesting such a thing. But she seems genuinely naive about it, waiting for your response.

"Hmm, and what would we do with the house to ourselves...?" You tease, rubbing your nose against hers and Wanda chuckles shyly, one hand going up to your neck.

"I suppose whatever we want." She replies, and you smile before kissing her again, this time goodbye.

–//–

It seemed to take a lifetime, but the weekend finally arrived.

Wanda doesn't know why she was so nervous. You had been alone before, between classes, at movie screenings, at snack bars, or bowling alleys.

But then she remembered the feeling of your lips pressing against hers, the panting whispers that made her skin itch, and the way her knees gave way when your hands got bold and she guessed she knew very well why.

She prepares a typical movie session, all the food, and comfy pillows, and you praise her for her dedication before pressing her against the bedroom door.

Wanda loves those hungry kisses - they heat up her body like a furnace, and always leave her wanting more. And today you seem willing to give her as much as she needs.

Your mouth parted from hers only to trail along her jaw, marking your way down and Wanda already panting, threw her head back against the wood, shivering under your rough touch around her body.

"I drove all the way down here thinking about kissing you, princess." You confess huskily against her ear, and Wanda blushes heavily, a low moan escaping her throat. "You're making me crazy, Wanda. I can't stop thinking about you."

"I think about you too." She confesses equally affected, only to gasp when you press a knee between her legs and everything burns, and she can't control the sounds that escape from there, not when you move your hands to her waist and make her grind against your thigh next. "Oh. That feels so nice..." She whimpers overwhelmed by the sensations, and you gently bite the sensitive spot on her neck.

"If you want something, you're going to have to ask for it." You whisper, and Wanda moans in response, her nails digging into your arms.

"Please, Y/N. I just need...you to touch me." She tries with her cheeks burning as much as the rest of her body, her hips never failing against your thigh and making you shiver.

"I'm all over you, pretty girl." You tease back, meeting her gaze and swallowing Wanda's breathless moans with your mouth with each movement of her hips. "Unless you want me to touch you somewhere else..."

"You know I want to." She retorts naughtily, and to that, you bite her lip, a gentle tug that makes her choke on a moan.

"Don't be a smart-ass." You warn, sliding a hand to her thigh to pull it up, and the adjustment makes Wanda see stars. "You can't even tell me to fuck your pussy."

She whimpers at the teasing, closing her eyes and throwing her forehead against your shoulder. You laugh smugly as the wetness begins to stain your pants.

"Baby, please..." She whimpers again, urging her body against you. Her hips are out of rhythm, and the covered stimulation is delicious, but still not enough. She just needs some kind of push that you seem to know what it is and won't grant her.

Instead of answering her, you grab her neck and kiss her hard, adjusting your body to hers until Wanda feels a hardness and jerks up with a surprised, affected squeal.

"It's a gift that I bought especially for you. if you're ready for it, of course." You clarify breathlessly, and she nods immediately, interlacing her hands behind your neck. But you kiss her slowly now and move your other hand down to lift Wanda between the door and your lap so that she now grinds directly against the strap instead of your thigh. She gasps in a whimper, meeting your eyes again as you break the kiss. " Fuck, you're so close and I haven't even touched you yet."

You were absolutely right. The knot in Wanda's belly was ready to explode at any moment, and when you slid your hand down to open your zipper, and the fake cock slipped out, the new pressure made Wanda growl hornily, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

You didn't penetrate her, letting her grind her covered intimacy against the toy until the moisture was enough to wet it. By now Wanda was jerking, holding you by the shoulders as you moved your hips against her. The strap pressed against her clit, sliding in a torturous back and forth over her covered pussy, and you seemed to be having the time of your life driving her to the brink of insanity with that tease.

"Y/N-fuck-I want-need it... inside-ah" She tried, delirious with anticipation, ever so close, and you panted softly in her ear.

"I love it when you cuss, it's so hot." You praise, slowing down and making Wanda moan loudly, her clit throbbing. "If you can ask me what you want, I'll do it."

Wanda whimpers affectedly, her cheeks blushing again. She is almost building up courage when you curse in her ear trapped in your own pleasure, and she is cumming instead of saying anything.

It is an overwhelming pleasure, almost terrifying her. She grabs you to keep from falling to the floor, dripping onto her panties. You grunt as you realize what has just happened and only give Wanda time to stop shaking before you get down on your knees.

"Babe, what are you...?" She falls silent as she chokes on her own breath, throwing her head back hard as her hips try to escape from your hands that hold her just for that. You press your nose against her covered intimacy, sniffing with a loud groan as Wanda whimpers. You don't give her time to complain before you move a hand to push the fabric away and sink your tongue into her.

Wanda practically screams, and you groan as you taste her. You fuck her messily, hungrily as you take your tongue between the folds of her pussy, pushing deep and then shallow to make her twitch, and when you suck on her clit she brings a hand to her hair.

"Oh-OH-blyat', tak khorosho!" Wanda gasps, and you groan as you hear her cursing in another language. It just encourages you to keep going, and this time, you won't stop until you get it out of her again.

It didn't take long - Wanda was sensitive and you only had to slide your tongue inside and suck her clit a few times for her to spill into your mouth with a long moan, her nails digging into your scalp. You moaned too, delighting in her taste and licking her clean before making your way up again.

"That was..." She tries breathlessly, her eyes lazy, and you smile, kissing her and making her grunt for her own taste before turning into a surprised yelp when you take her by the thighs and lift her onto your lap.

"We're not done, pretty girl." You clarify between kisses on the way to the bed. When you place Wanda on the mattress, her hair spreads across the pillow and she stares at you with dark eyes, her chest heaving. You pause, momentarily speechless as you realize how much you care for her.

"Everything okay?" She asks at your hesitation, and you smile immediately, nodding and moving closer to kiss her with intensity. Wanda melts, trying to pull you up but you gently push her by the shoulders.

She thinks to question, but your hand traces its way between her thighs and any question becomes an affected whimper.

"The toy is small, but I still need to stretch you with my fingers." You whisper with a naturalness that doesn't match the way Wanda blushes heavily. She merely nods, shivering under your fingers scratching and teasing around the inner part of her thighs. "You'll tell me if it hurts, won't you, pretty girl?"

She nods frantically, choking softly. "Y-yes, but please, just..." The teasing was driving her insane, your fingers only touching around, never where she desperately needed it. "Please, Y/N, touch me."

You shushed her gently, kissing the corner of her mouth and then her jaw, and when you got to her neck and started sucking on the sensitive spots that made her squirm on the bed, your fingers find her intimacy and penetrated her.

Wanda whimpered, closing her eyes tightly to the invasion. One at first, and then you slid out, and when you came back, two sank into her and she bit your shoulder.

"Tell me when you're ready." You whispered into her neck, moving your thumb to stimulate her clitoris, and Wanda throbbed beneath you. After two orgasms, she was really quite sensitive, but that only made it better. "Wands?"

She sighed, opening her eyes to find your worried ones. Instead of answering, she brought one hand to your cheek and another to the wrist connected between you. She brought your lips together at the same time she moved her hips, and you took the cue, sliding your fingers out and then in to find a rhythm.

Wanda whimpered once you got it, with each thrust she gasped at the kiss becoming harder to return, but once you felt her close again, you stopped.

She grunted confused and annoyed, but you adjusted before she could say anything, and any complaint broke down into an affected moan as you lined up the strap on her and sank in at once.

"Ah, I knew you could take it, pretty girl." You praised her, in a slow rhythm against her as Wanda squirmed and dug her nails into your back, desperate for more. "Damn, you look so beautiful now."

Wanda's moans mingled with the sounds of the thrusts inside her, the wetness of her pussy creating a delicious friction. You firmed your hands on her waist, pushing deeper, and she arched her back, ready to fall over the edge. You fell over her, hugging her and kissing the skin of her exposed collarbone, and Wanda whimpered, moaning under you.

She let out a little squeal, and her body tensed and you gasped against her neck as you came too, your juices mixing and dripping down her thighs.

You stood there for a moment, just breathing against each other as you calmed from your climax, and you smiled as you felt Wanda draw patterns on your back.

Unhurriedly, you moved off her, biting your lips at the image of the soaked toy and the sigh that left her lips as she felt empty before you pulled away.

Wanda looks at you expectantly at once, missing your body on top of her.

"Where are you going?" She asks in a half-hoarse voice, but you smile, now standing in front of the bed, you begin to remove your pants.

"You came three times and we didn't even get to take our clothes off. I'm kind of impressed." You humorously clarify, and Wanda giggles shyly, biting her lips as you take off your clothes in front of her. "How would you like to take a shower with me? And then, lend me something comfy so we can watch the movie you've picked up?"

She finds it incredible, honestly, but once you are completely naked in front of her, Wanda can only sigh and move closer again. She brings a hand to your neck and kisses you hard.

"Later. Now, I want you to do that thing with your tongue again." She asks with a sigh and well, it's not like you're going to complain.

–//–

You awoke to rays of sunlight on your face and a warm feeling on the tip of your stomach.

"Wands...oh...don't stop that." Your natural instinct was to call out to her, but it turned into something like a moan and a sigh as you felt the pleasure electrify your whole body at once. Wanda smiled against you, looking up at you as her hands held your thighs open for her. You squirmed on the mattress, barely finding time to grab her hair before you cum hard on her tongue. "Fuck, baby, that was amazing."

She giggles softly against you, kissing your thighs before moving up your body until she finds your mouth again. It takes a moment for you to recover from the orgasm and wake up properly, but when you do, your hands go around her and you spin Wanda around on the bed, getting on top quickly as she smiles.

"You're a fast learner." You comment against her jaw, tracing kisses downward. "I don't think I've ever cum so fast before..."

But suddenly, Wanda tenses and your hand guides your face back to her.

"I don't want to think about it." She says almost irritated, and you frown in confusion, "You with other people."

A smile breaks on your lips. " Hmm, is that right?"

But Wanda doesn't smile, sliding her legs between yours to switch positions and push you on your back on the bed, straddling your lap the next minute. Her hands at the side of your head, and her hair makes a curtain between your faces.

"I want you to be mine, Y/N. As I am yours." She whispers hoarsely, her gaze intense on yours. You blink impressed but are smiling.

"And who says I'm not already?" You challenge back, moving your hands to her hips and enjoying the feel of her intimacy against your thigh. Her breasts look incredible like this too, covered only by the half-open shirt of yours that she must have stolen during the night.

Wanda studies your face as she risks, "You never made us official, I thought..."

You bring a hand to her cheek as she lowers her head in shame. "Wands, and who says labels are the only thing that makes us official?"

Wanda shrugs, looking away, "I don't know, it's just that the cheer girls have their partners, and they're always talking about going to college together or buying apartments and-"

You straighten up, sitting up and pulling her closer.

"We'll do all that if that's what you want." You tell her with sincerity. "We'll go to NYU together, and rent an apartment. And I'll buy you a shiny ring so everyone will know we're together."

Wanda smiles, blushing as she wraps her arms around you.

"But what do you want?"

You smile warmly, brushing your nose against hers. "Sweetheart, I just want you." You retort caressing her skin. "I don't care about social norms, I just want to be able to kiss and wake up with you every day. If you want a ring, let's buy a ring. If you want to meet me in secret so as not to upset your father, I'll accept that too."

Wanda chuckles softly, pecking your jaw and then your lips.

"There's no way I'm keeping you a secret, you're the best thing that ever happened to me." She confesses and you kiss her, again and again until she starts to heat up on you, breathless whispers leaving her lips with each kiss.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me too, Wands." You retort to her before deepening the next kiss, and this time, you don't stop.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #bottom!wanda #kinktober 2022

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stoopsmagazine · 8 months

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Hey friends.

You are probably wondering why it has been so long between issues, but let's not get into the why and focus more on making it to the other side of the gap. Just huck and stick the landing, nobody cares why you did it. Okay, I guess technically we'd still be in the air since I, unfortunately, do not have a new issue to present to you yet...but it's coming!

But let's just say that the previous issue on mental health has been holding up. I actually began going to therapy, as I mentioned I should, and it has been great. It helps that there isn't the same stigma to go as there used to be and you don't have to be mentally ill to benefit from it. Our mental health could just use some periodic maintenance. It can help you reassess your actions and perspective. I realized how much I was overcommitting to things, to an unhealthy level. There is just so many great things to do in this life that it can be hard to limit yourself at time. Taking a step back from the magazine for a bit was part of my growth. But now I'm back and ready to explore the best of this little world on wheels we have.

I have never used this blog to its potential, mostly because I see all the other magazines reposting all the same content anyway and didn't feel like we needed another repetitive voice...but I'm supposed to be a content creator, even if it is more tangible. So I am going to start commenting on some of my favorite parts of the skate world, since we all have different tastes anyway and if you are reading this, you might actually like mine. The problem is that I am also so behind with skate videos, so don't call me out for being into something you saw a month ago, please.

For now, I will leave you with this photo I shot of Jackson Davis noseblunting this whole ledge at the new local DIY (Kilbourne) in Charlotte a couple weeks ago.

#stoops magazine #stoops #skateboarding #stoops mag #jackson davis #charlotte #nc #noseblunt

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gatabella · 6 months

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"Ava Gardner heads Burt Lancaster’s list of girls who can stand up to the “new lookers.” “Ava represents every man’s ideal of sex appeal. I can’t recall her ever having to stoop to the kind of obvious display that so many of the new stars affect. Men are becoming less and less amused by too much blatant sex—just as they are with any over-commercialized product!” Dean Martin tried to be serious about Ava Gardner when he said he thought she had the appeal of a queen. “When you meet a woman like this, she expects to be champagned and caviared,” he said with a dreamy expression on his face."

-Photoplay magazine, September 1954

#ava gardner #burt lancaster #dean martin #quote

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xiaq · 4 months

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Steddie Time Travel Fix-it Pt. 11

Ao3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 Pt. 9 Pt. 10

Eddie wakes up the following morning to Steve Harrington sitting cross-legged beside him, loading the magazine of a handgun.

“Whu?” Eddie manages.

When they’d all gone to sleep––Eddie checks the clock, five hours ago, why are they even awake?––Robin, Chrissy, and Nancy had taken the guest bed while Steve and Eddie made due with sleeping bags and camping cots on the floor. The kids were split between Dustin’s room and the living room.

And now, instead of sleeping in like most sane people would do after the apocalypse was avoided, Steve is loading a gun. He’s also still wearing Eddie’s shirt and boxers. While loading a gun.

Eddie should not have to deal with this so early in the morning.

“Hey,” Steve says.“You can keep sleeping. A couple of us are going to do a quick check at the last open gate. Make sure it still looks like he’s really gone this time.”

The he is weighty.

Eddie shoves himself into a sit, scrubbing at the crust in his eyes.

“Okay. What time are we leaving?”

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Steve murmurs absently, sliding in the now-full magazine, checking the safety is on before standing. “You’re sleeping. I’m going.”

“Okay, but who’s going with you?”

Steve tucks the gun into the duffle bag that Eddie recognizes from the night before, then stoops to pick up the ammo box. His movements are awkward around his still-bandaged hand, around the clear pain from his ribs.

“Hopper, Nance, Jonathan, Robin, El, and I,” he says. “One of the scientists from the lab and two of the suits. Not that they’ve ever been useful. Kids are staying here with Joyce and Murray.”

“You’re injured,” Eddie points out, standing.

“I’m fine.”

“I’m uninjured,” he presses. “And I’m a pretty good shot, thanks to Wayne. Especially if you give me one of those shotguns.”

Steve’s movements become even more jerky as he shoves another box into the bag. “No, Eddie. Just hang out here. We’ll be back soon.”

“Okay, fuck no. You’re not leaving me behind with the literal children again.”

“It’s not a debate,” Steve says, every ounce the infuriating my-word-is-law asshole that stalks the halls of Hawkins high. “You’re not coming, deal with it.”

“I am coming, and you can deal with it. I don’t know why you seem to think I’m useless and I don’t care, but you’ve got plenty of guns to go around and I know how to shoot one. I’m coming.”

Steve stops packing shit into his bag. “No,” he says, low and dangerous. “You’re not.”

Eddie steps into his space, tips his head, and practically snarls into Steve’s mouth: “Oh, Harrington. I am begging you to try and stop me and see what happens.”

“Would you just fucking—no,” Steve shouts, voice breaking. “No, okay? I can’t. I can’t take you down there.”

“Why not?!” Eddie shouts back.

“Because even when we thought it was safe, even when we planned for you not to––we took so many fucking precautions, but it always happened. Every time. And even if it seems okay now, I can’t do that again, especially not when we’ve come so far this time. I can’t even see you down there, okay? I will lose whatever’s left of my goddamn mind. So no. Please, no. Eddie.”

And that. Well. Eddie was not expecting that.

He takes a step back. He considers Steve’s face—the tight, stricken, set of his mouth and the sheen to his eyes. And something occurs to him.

“You said that when you first went back in time it wasn’t enough,” Eddie murmurs. “That you made several attempts but you still lost.”

“Yeah.”

“Was I there? For all of them?”

“Yeah.”

“How many times did you watch me die?” Eddie asks quietly.

“Too many,” Steve says, and his voice cracks between the words. “Please don’t make me do it again.”

The way he says it, the way he looks when he says it, makes Eddie take another step back.

“Okay,” Eddie says. “Okay, I’ll stay here.”

They’re only gone for two hours but Eddie has worked himself up into something of a frenzy by then.

The kids keep trying to talk to him about the Eddie they knew before, about D&D and their former lives and hey if we’re going to be stuck in the past do you think we can skip a few grades?

Eddie does his best to follow along but he’s caught thinking about the panic in Steve’s eyes, the supplication, when he’d begged Eddie not to come. He can’t stop wondering how many times they went back. How many times they failed. How many times Steve probably blamed himself for the failure.

Eddie has been––not jealous, exactly, but a little frustrated by the fact that everyone except for him and Chrissy, and Barb before she left, had a strange and slightly overwhelming camaraderie. They had all these experiences in common––they’d shared life-changing moments, and Eddie constantly felt like the odd man out. Like he was trying to play catchup with only the barest of plot outlines. It didn’t seem fair, that he was expected to adapt so quickly to the knowledge that alternate dimensions and time travel and monsters existed while simultaneously trying to fill the shoes of his former––future?––self.

Now, though, he thinks about the shadows that seem to permanently live in Steve’s eyes and he wonders if maybe the opposite is worse. Steve had adapted to the horrors over time. Too much time. Time pressed between layers of time where the only memories created were negative. Were painful.

He thinks he should probably give Steve a hug when he gets back.

Wayne had called when he got off work––the suits had contacted him earlier that morning and put him up in the motel in town. They’ed told him there was seismic activity and the trailer had been damaged and the government would be taking care of a replacement, which Wayne had reported to Eddie with a bemused yet hopeful tone. “Guess I won’t have to save to fix the roof anymore, huh?”

Eddie probably hadn’t shown the proper enthusiasm for the unexpected windfall, because he was too busy twisting the phone cord around his fingers and staring out the kitchen window at the empty cul-de-sac, hoping that maybe, if he stared hard enough, Hopper’s truck might appear.

When it finally does appear, Dustin is trying to cajole him into eating a pancake while Chrissy is asking, for the third time, how, exactly, she died, which the kids are being very shady about––apparently she and Barb and Eddie had all been killed by this Vecna dude. Barb very explicitly did not want to know how she died. Crissy vehemently does. Eddie…isn’t certain. He’s afraid he was a coward, at the end. He doesn’t want that assumption confirmed.

When the truck pulls up in front of the house, the kids pile onto Steve and the others first, with hugs and questions and requests to go with them next time.

Eddie and Chrissy watch from the doorway.

“So,” Eddie says. “Is this super weird for you too, or––?”

“Yeah,” she says, not sounding very upset about it. “It’s nice, though, at the same time.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow at her. “Finding out the monster from the hell-version of Hawkins killed you in a different reality is ‘nice’?”

She leans into him so she can poke her elbow into his ribs. “Well not that part, obviously. But the part where––I’ve never had close friends before. I’ve had, like, cheerleading friends. Or friends I spend time with because their parents are friends with my parents. But never people of my own. Who like…genuinely care about me.” She nods to the group in the driveway, laughing as Robin pantomimes something. “They all love each other so much. And they thought I was worth saving. That’s pretty cool. To have a group like this care about you.”

Eddie can’t argue with that.

Hopper shepherds everyone back inside and they cheerfully lay into the food that Joyce and Claudia had made in their absence. The kids are talking about the upcoming science fair and maybe they can win it this time with a little extra knowledge on their side. Joyce is wondering if that’s cheating since technically they’re all freshmen in highschool now competing on a seventh-grade level. Dustin says it doesn’t matter because somebody needs to put Justin Malcovich in his place—it’d be an act of public service to knock him off his science fair throne––

Eddie agrees with Chrissy. He does feel honored and flattered and a little uncomfortable, honestly, with the affection the kids and Steve obviously have for him. But he doesn’t understand how he fits here. Or at least how this version of him fits. Maybe he’s not ready to be a part of whatever this is. Maybe there’s a reason they didn’t meet for several years.

“Well that’s not a good expression,” Steve murmurs, coming to stand beside him.

He’s still wearing Eddie’s shirt. And he smells. So fucking good.

“This is just a lot.” Eddie admits.

“Fair,” Steve agrees. “You want to go sit on the roof?”

“...is that an option?”

Steve snags two pancakes from the table, grabs Eddie’s hand—his hand, not his wrist. His hand. And pulls him up the stairs.

They sit on the roof.

It’s not terribly steep, but it’s steep enough that they crab-walk past the window so they can put their backs against the sun-warmed siding for a little extra confidence.

“You mind?” Eddie asks, pulling a joint from his pocket.

“Only if you’re not planning to share.”

Eddie is planning to share.

They sit in companionable silence for several minutes, fingertips brushing, probably more fraught than it needs to be, as they pass the joint back and forth.

“So,” he says, shoving hair out of his face as the wind tries to push it directly into his mouth. “I’m assuming everything looked ok?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, “totally fine. Hopper said the kids can come next time, so that should tell you how safe he thinks it is.”

“But still not me?” Eddie asks.

Maybe he shouldn’t. But he feels like their conversation from that morning didn’t ever get to the point he wanted it to.

“Still not you,” Steve agrees, abruptly somber. “Never you.”

Eddie waits for Steve to continue, to explain, but he doesn’t. And Eddie isn’t feeling so cruel to push. Instead, he tries to french braid his hair back out of his face and is only partially successful. If he and the wind are keeping score, the wind is definitely winning.

“Oh, here,” Steve rocks to one side so he can pull something out of his back pocket. It’s Eddie’s bandana. “This was in with my laundry from last night,” Steve explains. “Come here, I’ll tie your hair back for you.”

Eddie doesn’t move for several seconds because the words don’t really make sense. He’s perfectly capable of tying back his own hair, he certainly doesn’t need Steve's help. He’s also not going to turn it down, though.

He moves closer. He shifts so his back is partially to Steve.

Steve’s fingers sink into his hair with a degree of familiarity that is a little winding. He combs it back as best as he’s able and then uses the bandana to gather it at the nape of his neck.

“There,” he says, using one hand on Eddie’s shoulder to turn him back around “better?”

It is better.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, despite the fact that Eddie hasn’t said anything. He tucks a few flyaway strands behind Eddie’s ear. “Looks good.”

Eddie exhales the smoke he’s been holding in his chest: long and slow and contemplative.

He passes the joint. He decides to be brave.

“Can I ask you something? And if you’re pissed after, can you just…let me leave. And not punch me in the face. Please.”

“Punch you—Eddie, what?”

“Are you flirting with me? Because it feels like you’ve been flirting with me. Pretty blatantly, man. And it’s seriously doing my head in because there’s no way, except––I just need to know. If you are.”

“Fuck,” Steve says. “I’m not trying to. I mean, I guess I am, sometimes, but it’s not––”

“Cool. Cool ok so, we’ll just forget I said anything and––” he pushes himself up, careful to keep his sneakers parallel to the roofline so he doesn’t fall to his death. Though, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad at this juncture.

“No. Shit, I knew I’d fuck this up. Eddie, please.”

Steve pulls him back down. Eddie lets him.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how to act around you because I know you aren’t the Eddie I knew, but you’re so similar and I’m selfish and I just…

“What?”

“Typically I only had you for a few days. The same few days. Over and over. Danger and blood and death, so this is nice.”

“What, getting to leave the hellscape timeline? Getting to eat pancakes and smoke and not worry about the end of the world?”

“Getting to keep you.” Steve whispers.

He closes his eyes after he says it, too slow to be a blink. Eddie thinks he probably didn’t mean to say it, judging by the grimace on his face. “Before it was just the same thing. A week of terror. Over and over again. And I only got stolen moments with you in between all of it. So this, and the last couple weeks, it’s just nice. That's all.”

“Oh,” Eddie says.

The silence between them is heavy.

“Were we…” Eddie isn’t sure how to ask.

“No,” Steve says, meeting his careful gaze. “Not really. But there was something. Or I think there could have been something, but it was mostly just looks and touches and I probably misinterpreted them anyway.”

Eddie breathes. “You probably didn’t.”

“What?”

“Steve,” he says. “Come on.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.”

“Can I kiss you?”

You can do anything you want to me, Eddie thinks. Instead, he says, “Yes. Please.”

***

Tag list:

@perfectlysensiblenonsense @stxrcrossed186 @mushie8123 @starlight-archer @estrellami-1 @snowstar2368 @superfanne @starlight-archer @child-of-cthulhu @djohawke @zerokrox-blog @alwayscertainwasteland @brie-luna @sharingisntkaren @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @deadfromtheneckdown @y4r3luv @manda-panda-monium @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlprocastinator1000

#steddie #steddie fic #eddie munson/steve harrington #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve/eddie

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oakendesk · 1 year

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Blue Book Aug 1939

Herbert Morton Stoops

#golden age art #pulp magazine art #pulp art #pulp art 1939 #Blue Book #Herbert Morton Stoops art #byronrimbaud

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inkblot-inc · 1 year

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Rough Cut Diamonds

Summary: Wanda Maximoff; one of the biggest names in designer and fashion jewelry, has to stoop down to a level she probably would never have gone herself as she stops by a metal shop to hopefully get a gift done for a friend. While there, she meets R, a metalworker with exceptional skill that might just earn Wanda's respect…and something else.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

[Everything else in the RCD Universe]

Warning(s): There’s smut so 18+ ONLY aka MINORS DNI, oral sex (Wanda recieving), strap-on use (r giving), other than that what else?... I mean there’s most likely language in there, but coming from me you shouldn’t be surprised if there is-

Note(s): So like, Jeweler!Wanda only makes sense to me when thinking of occupations, that paired with a Metalworker!Reader could make for an interesting dynamic. That’s really all it took for me to write this thing, so here's a Pilot. There’s actually a few other characters mentioned here. Maybe I’ll write more for this AU of sorts, but anyways, hope you enjoy :3

Word Count: A good bit past 4.2k

*squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit

Wanda Maximoff, CEO of Maximoff Jewelers. One of the biggest names in designer and fashion jewelry.

Maximoff would be one of the first names said by the everyday person, mentioned among Gumuchian and David Yurman. Your Cartier’s and Bulgari’s, if you will. A staggering feat for what started as a home company based in New York.

While Wanda Maximoff herself is known for her solid presence and upper echelon beauty, her trademark look is her hands: always adorned with her own rings. A mix of her “rookie creations” and her favorite pieces from her line releases.

In our interview with Wanda Maximoff for the March Editor's Choice Article, Maximoff readily said that she has worked to master her craft and artistry for just over a decade, and that her work thrives off of her ambition. Her own distinct engravings and designs are handcrafted with custom soldering tools and specially imported metals from all over.

Maximoff jewelry designs are a rather alluring mix of gothic academia with usage of stones reminiscent of the Renaissance era. There's no need to wonder why Maximoff Jewelers is one of the most lucrative brands in our time-

"And why every person from fashion forward sons to best friends with shockingly good taste want a sneak peak at the Redeemer line set to release before the end of the year!"

Wanda snatched the magazine from her friend's hands. "Enough already, I've got enough of that from Monica." She took a sip from her freshly brewed coffee while she looked through her work notes. There was an upcoming sponsor deal to hash out and get meetings settled in for the following week. And today was simply a maintenance day squeezed into her usual work week.

Kate looked up in the middle of getting her own bag together for work. “Are we still on for lunch this afternoon?”

Wanda grabbed her thermos of coffee as she thought over her schedule. “Mm, I should be free around two o’clock-ish. It really depends on how the timing shakes out.”

Wanda only heard the brunette give a small hum at her answer as she followed her out of the apartment. “You kept the first week of April free though, right?”

The two women left Kate’s apartment to make their way to the elevator, Wanda reaching said elevator first. “I didn’t forget about your birthday, Kate. You’ve made it impossible for me to, anyway.”

Kate got in after Wanda held the elevator door open for her. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen nary a suspicious anonymous online purchase or shifty bag movement. There was nothing I liked in your trunk either.”

Wanda merely raised a brow as she listened to the brunette ramble on. “Well, aside from breaking into my vehicle, I guess you’re not as good at being nosy as you think you are,”

Kate let out a fake gasp, both of them stepping out after reaching the ground floor. “How dare! I’m going to find out one way or another, Wands. You will not be immune!”

Wanda stopped once they reached the lobby to root through her bag for her car keys. “Mhm, gotcha. Are you done?”

“Eh, enough. Have a good day at work!” Kate burst out of the front doors to the apartment building as she walked the opposite way to her job.

Wanda briefly chuckled to herself as she reached her car. Getting in, she started it up and set her bag in the passenger seat.

She took a moment before she reached for the glove box. Behind important envelopes and documents inside was a nondescript tote bag. More documents and such were inside, but laying at the bottom (presumably due to its weight) was the broken hilt of a sword.

“Thankfully you weren't nosy enough, Bishop.”

—---------

You run a workshop just off the strip not too far from Wanda’s penthouse apartment.

You do a bit of everything, all it takes is an idea or commission really. You’ve made ornaments, sculptures, some abstract work, zippo lighters, and even a few weapons…for display of course.

You’ve been doing metalwork for as long as you can remember, even started working in highschool. Your mentor Logan is a bit of a hard ass, but his biggest rule is to make quality shit because “Your work is an extension of you”. He also said to keep protection on you in and out of the workshop.

A wise man indeed…

It was late in the afternoon with only about an hour and a half till closing. You spent most of the day doing independent projects that you would wind up selling online later on. With Cable out of the shop, you currently took to manning the Maker’s Damned aux cord when you heard the bell above the entrance door jingle…

Wanda remembered there was a metal shop around her place somewhere before coming across “The Maker’s Damned”. Walking into the shop she almost felt itchy. She was hit with the immediate temperature difference, accompanied with the telltale citrus scent of cleaning fluid. Wanda hadn’t been in a shop like this probably since she was just a teenager back home in Sokovia. Danko’s shop wasn’t much smaller in comparison to this though.

While Wanda could see the wear and tear of the place, it still managed to feel homey in a way that she couldn’t really turn her nose up at it.

“Something I can help you with, miss?”

Turning toward the sudden voice Wanda met eyes with you. She was then reminded why she was here in the first place with the weight of a broken sword in the bag she brought.

Clearing her throat, Wanda opened the bag for you to see. “I wanted to see if I could get this piece fixed for a friend.”

You quirked an eyebrow at the item in the bag. “A sword?”

Wanda opened the bag wider for you to see. “Yes, it’s supposed to be a replica of the Ronin sword,”

“I love those movies!” Your eyes lit up in recognition of the design, except the blade was broken inside the sheath.

Wanda’s eyes held a bit of mirth as she looked at you, “Of course you do.”

You almost reach your hands out to take a closer look, “May I?”

Wanda nodded, holding the bag open as you grabbed the pieces. You noticed all the rings on her hands as a few of them caught the light.

You listened as Wanda told you about her good friend Kate’s birthday that was coming up and the girl had been complaining about how her dog Lucky knocked over her “baby” and needed to get it fixed.

Now, why exactly Kate insisted on having a sword as a centerpiece in her apartment is something Wanda didn’t even want to begin questioning, but here she was…

Assessing the damage, you look up at the well-dressed woman. “I can work with this if you feel like, miss…”

“Wanda. Just Wanda is fine…Skitch?”

You chuckle as you see her squint trying to read your name patch. “Yeah, it’s Y/n. It’s Skitch in the shop. If you’ll follow me, I can start looking at the sword at my station."

It wasn’t that you didn’t know who Wanda was, it’s just a matter of being professional.

Both of you made your way toward the back of the workshop, passing other metalworkers busy with their own projects.

“It is an active environment and most of these guys are messy, so just make sure you watch where you step.”

The Maker’s Damned is definitely different from her own workspace. The idle chatter mixed with classics playing on the stereo made the atmosphere casual, light. There were more divots and uneven grooves in the epoxy floors than Wanda was used to, but it wasn’t cumbersome.

Both of you reach your labeled workstation. It’s relatively tidy and you shuffle away some scattered blueprints to make room for the sword on the table before sitting down in your desk chair.

“Normally I’d have you see Nathan to get a price estimate for the job, but he’s gone out for parts, so you get my eval,” You look back and meet Wanda’s eyes for a good second.

‘God she’s pretty. Shut up, you gotta focus.’

As you get to examining the replica, Wanda looks you up and down. The sleeves of your welding shacket rolled up to the elbows, fitting snug around your biceps as you manage to free the broken blade from the sheath in one piece and set it next to the hilt.

Her eyes dart back up when you turn to face her. “How much did your friend pay for this initially?”

Wanda shrugged, “Something like six thousand dollars or so. It’s an authentic replica,”

You purse your lips as you eyed the hilt. “They got skimmed on that authentic bit,” You gave a firm shake to the hilt and showed her the thin piece of metal that fell out. “That’s a push tang.”

You watched her brows furrow. “Is there something wrong with it or? -”

“There shouldn’t be one at all. Ronin's sword was made to be retractable. There’s not a single rotation mechanism or spring mechanic in this thing.”

Though Wanda was amused, she scoffed, “Well I’m sure she knew that when she bought it. Retractable swords don’t actually exist.”

You tossed your head back and forth a bit before settling on a smirk. “Challenge accepted.”

Wanda gave a smile of her own as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You realize that you’re making more work for yourself. You could just repair it as it was.”

It was a test of some sort you realize, but you respond honestly, “I’ve got no problem with that. If I succeed, I guess I’ll just be the first. Plus, I’m a Ronin fan.”

You shrug as you spin your chair to fully face Wanda, the view tilting your head up at her as Wanda comes a bit closer. “And what about the price?”

You give yourself a second to try and think as you feel the cool metal of the jewelry on her hands meeting your shoulder and resting there. “Well, the original price was fifteen hundred. Considering that the material’s all here and with the quality of the piece I'm working with, I'm simply not gonna reforge this... It’s supposed to be a gift you said? I’m sure we can work a discount out with that.” You eye the hand on your shoulder as she gave it a brief squeeze before it returned to her side.

You’d both talked it over from there as you told Wanda that you should have the sword ready to go by the end of the week, it only being Tuesday, the idea for improvements already whirring around.

There was a noticeable tension by the time she left your workshop, a subtle sway in her hips and your personal number between her fingers on the card you gave her. You’d be seeing her in three days, so it was time to get to work.

-----

It was a busy week for Wanda at the manufacturing building, but production is still moving smoothly in preparation for the upcoming release of her Redeemer Collection in a few weeks' time.

As Wanda drove down the busy streets, she couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy. Today she’d come in to pick up and pay for the Ronin replica and see you again. She hadn’t used the number you gave her, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t think about it…Or you. Quite the opposite actually.

Kate noticed the difference in her mood when they met up again after she left her building for the day. As the next head of a security company, Kate picked up on just about everything that wasn’t related to herself. After a good bit of pestering, Wanda eventually admitted that she’d run into someone that she’d taken a liking to a few days ago. The jeweler left out a lot of the details of how the two of you met, only that she’d chatted with someone while at work. Any more and Kate would get too curious for her own good.

Wanda parked curbside and took her heels off to change into a pair of flats that she kept inside before getting out. It was clear and sunny, great weather for the weekend. She put on her sunglasses as she made her way down the strip, looking upward to catch the workshop sign.

Making her way inside, Wanda was more relaxed than last time as she was greeted with the sound of Foo Fighters and the continuous clang of metal. She found you easily.

You’d foregone the longsleeve for a gray wife beater, inked arms on display with a visible sheen. Wanda observed you for a bit as you were in a conversation with an older man dressed similarly. Practically feeling eyes on you, your head turned to meet Wanda’s stare, a quick smile forming at seeing her.

You excused yourself as you made your way over to Wanda, taking her in as well.

“Miss Maximoff, ‘afternoon.”

Wanda gave a quick laugh through her nose, “Please I just spent the last few hours being called ‘miss Maximoff’, no more for the day.”

“Alright I’ll drop it. Just wanted to be courteous.” There’s a playful smirk on your face as you watch her move her sunglasses up onto her head.

You catch your tongue between your teeth for a second before nodding toward the back. “Come on, I’ll show you the blade then.”

The two of you took the familiar path to the back before going past all the workstations. Idle chatter in between, a few stolen glances here and there. You used your key to unlock the door to your back office, holding the door open to let her pass through first.

You just went through yourself when you hear a voice boom from not too far away. “Remember what I said Skitch! I don’t need Hank on my ass ‘bout noise, you hear?!”

You could feel a bit of heat bloom on your cheeks, “Yuh huh Boss! I better not hear shit when Jean comes to drop off your lunch either!”

You only heard his gruff laugh in response before closing the door in place. “And for what, man?” mumbling to yourself, you made your way over to the closet with all your finished projects, checking the different labels for the sword. Peeking out, you saw Wanda looking around your office. There were custom designs and blueprints hung up, A few pictures of you with some of the other faces Wanda can recall seeing around the shop. Now that she was paying attention, it was also cleaner than she expected for a metal junky, the smell of cutting fluid and cleanser was noticeably lighter.

“Here it is,” You pulled what was the handle of the ronin sword out to display.

Wanda came a bit closer with her arms crossed. “And this blade is supposed to…pop out, and pop back in?”

She’s seen Ronin before, how could she not? One of her closest friends is the star of the franchise. But it was made with fictional tech in a world of fiction. By all accounts, a real retractable sword is impossible…

Or it was anyway.

Wanda watched as you took a step back before pressing a button you must have installed on the handle’ side. Next thing Wanda knew, there was a blade in the place of the empty space occupying the hilt.

You playfully bounced your eyebrows as you looked at the blade, it held up extremely well. You grabbed a blank piece of scrap paper and held it out and upward before running the edge of the blade across it, easily slicing through it with no effort. A testament to how well the sword was sharpened.

With another press of the button, the blade hid itself away back in the Habaki with no fuss. The last few sleep-deficient nights had been worth it.

You had a wide grin as you looked to Wanda, who looked every bit as impressed as you felt with yourself. “Now that’s what I like to see huh!”

Wanda conceded a mini round of applause as she went to lean on the edge of your desk. She watched you test it a few more times with some practice swings. “I stand corrected. I have to say I’m vastly impressed Y/n,” She kept a small smile on her face as you continued to admire your handiwork before carefully setting the hidden blade in a custom case. You explained how the sheath was virtually useless now that the blade could retract itself and how you repurposed the material to make a case for the blade instead.

You walked over and presented the sturdy sword case to her on your office desk. “Making the impossible possible baby,”

Your eyes met once again, and you catch Wanda’s eyes dart down without care for getting caught.

“So how much do I owe you?”

You both could feel that same growing tension in spite of the honest avenue of conversation.

“I’d say a thousand even.”

Wanda was taken aback, “That’s more than generous of you Y/n. I don’t mind paying full price; you basically remade the entire sword. It’s probably even worth more than the original six thousand now,”

While moving to gather up the bag the sword came in, you looked over to Wanda flashing a quick smile. “Nah it’s fine, really. This is still classified as a simple repair job after all, plus it was a good challenge. I may wanna get paid but that’s what paychecks are for right? Consider it…Special commission. Respects for another Ronin fan, a favor for a beautiful woman even.”

Placing the sword off to the side, Wanda ran her hands down your arm and over your bicep.

Looking up at you, Wanda’s eyes were a much darker, almost velvet green. “I’m sure we can make that work.”

She brought you closer and your lips crashed together in a kiss that was pent up and hungry, first being a clashing of tongue and teeth before your making out boiled down to something more sensual, like a low rumbling fire and tossing coals. You rested your hands on either side of Wanda on the desk, enclosing her between your arms. Separating briefly to look at you, her pupils were blown out and you wouldn’t doubt that yours were as well.

As you both continued to make out with the addition of wandering hands, you felt Wanda grip the top of your waistband before running her hand over the bulge in your work pants.

“Mm, I want to say this is pretty presumptuous of you,” there was a small upturn to Wanda’s lips as she raised a brow at you.

You merely cocked your head to the side as you appeared to give it thought. “Presumptuous? Maybe. I like the word ‘Prepared’ better. And I always am,”

Leaning forward, you captured Wanda’s lips again before moving to kiss across her jaw to her neck right by her pulse point. "I'd say you're presumptuous though," You bring your hand up and push a hand under the fabric of her top, simply caressing the skin.

"Lookin' this good at the end of the day, what're you doin'? Feels like you're teasin' me almost,"

With your other hand fiddling with the buttons of Wanda’s blouse, you laid light kisses on her newly exposed shoulder and collar bone. You continue, sliding the fabric off to pool around her waist.

"Do you think so?"

Wanda’s breath hitched as her hand kept a hold of the back of your neck as you continued your ministrations and moved lower, becoming preoccupied with her breasts as you licked and sucked. The seemingly constant contrast of her warm skin and cool rings sent you into a bit of a stir as she urged you lower.

Pulling you away from her chest, you looked up to meet her eyes.

“You know that’s not where I need you.”

The blunt statement had you welcoming the pressure pushing you down to your knees, becoming eye level with Wanda’s thighs.

Because you did know where she needed you.

Where she wanted you.

Pulling down her jeans, you left a few kisses along her hip bone as you pulled down her underwear.

You almost feel your mouth begin to water at the sight of Wanda’s exposed pussy. Quickly running your tongue over your bottom lip, you lower your head to lick a stripe over her entrance before lightly sucking her clit into your mouth.

"Right there, baby. Mhm,"

Wanda’s hips buck and spasm into your face as she takes as much pleasure you’re willing to give. Her moans and whimpers are a welcome compliment as one of her hands keeps hold of the back of your head.

You bring a finger up to slide into Wanda, keeping a quick rhythm as you double your efforts on her clit. You feel Wanda's fingers clench in your hair.

"Oh- fuck,"

When Wanda reaches her orgasm, you take all of her as her juices flow into your mouth. Your movements are less feverish as you clean her up. Wanda helps pull you back up to meet her, her hand resting on your chin.

There’s a light smile on your lips as you watch her chest heave slightly.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Wanda gives a quick laugh through her nose in response as she meets your eyes. “Certainly, but we’re far from done here.”

She makes quick work of undoing your belt as you push your pants down revealing your strap on. You take it in your hand as you run the toy along her entrance, getting it wet with her slick. You press kisses to the underside of Wanda’s jaw, nipping by her ear as you push into her, and your hands rest flat on desk as you set a steady pace.

You watch, almost breathless as your cock moves in and out of Wanda, already coated in her juices. "God, you're taking me so well, Wands."

Wanda’s arms rest over your shoulders as her hands grasp the back of your shirt. "Fuck, yes! Right there, Y/n!"

Speeding up, you cover Wanda’s body with your own as you fuck her into the desk. Chasing your own release, you go harder while bringing a hand to Wanda’s hip and pulling her to meet your thrusts with your own grunts following your orgasm.

Wanda cries out as she releases on your strap on and you slow down to help ride out both or your highs, savoring the sweet resistance you meet with Wanda’s pussy as you continue to slide out and in. Your forehead rests on wanda’s as you continue the languid pace, breathing in each other.

-----

Buckling your jeans back up you looked over at Wanda, who was fixing her blouse in the small mirror on your desk. “Y’know I was kinda upset you didn’t call me earlier this week. Could’ve figured details out over say, dinner…”

Wanda looked over her shoulder before turning to you and tucking your wife beater back in your jeans for you. “Well I knew I’d be able to pay for it no matter the cost…And I knew that I was going to see you again, so there was no need to worry about it.”

Fighting a smile, you took one of Wanda’s hands in your own, running your thumb over her knuckles lightly. “What if I still wanted to do that dinner thing tho? Go all in for reservations or just head down to Bravo’s and pick up a pie, eat in at my place,”

After finishing up fixing yourselves, you both made your way back to the front of the shop, you could see the sun starting to set through the window. You decided to walk with Wanda down the street to her car as well.

Opening her car door Wanda turned and gave you a quick peck on the cheek before getting in, rolling her window down afterward. “I’d say that you’ve got a date on your hands there Y/n. Pick me up at, say, five o’clock tomorrow?”

You leaned down to be eye level with her as she started her car up, your arms lightly resting on the window ledge. “And where would I pick you up?”

Her head turned to face you, “We can figure out the details over the phone.”

With a smirk, you stood up straight keeping eye contact with Wanda. “I look forward to your call then.” You watched as Wanda gave you a wave before pulling out onto the street and driving away.

Going back into the workshop, Logan was still in his office, but everyone else went home for the day. You were helping close up, so you got to putting away the power tools and sweeping up debris.

The small smile refusing to leave your face all the while.

You were just about done when your phone buzzed in your pocket. Checking the notification to see an unknown number, you read the text that popped up on your lock screen.

-@ Attica Suites on xxx street, top floor. This is Wanda btw-

You finished putting away the cleaning supplies before you went to respond.

-Y: Alright, got it-

Not even a full minute passed before your phone buzzed again

-W: So when will you be over?-

-Y: For tmr? Probably closer to 4:50-

-W: I meant for tonight, I wanna know if I should leave the door unlocked or not-

Your eyes widened at the text before looking up at the clock hanging on the wall, it was quarter past six. You were closing up early for the weekend anyhow…

You quickly knocked and popped your head into Logan’s office before telling him the shop was ready for lock up. He gave you a gruff response while looking over his papers as you ducked back out.

Getting your jacket from your office and checking your pockets for your key ring you all but sprinted to your truck out back, typing back a response to Wanda while dodging a bin.

-Y: Omw, be there in 20-

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