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atyourmerci · 4 months

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† Repent †

Read pt.2 here

†

Summary: You are sent off on a mission for 2 months. Abigail Anderson, the group leader, resents you for your sexuality until she gets drunk and ends up at your doorstep.

Warnings: smut, MDNI, alcohol usage, sub!abby, comphet!abby, brattop!reader, religion play, oral, fnv, tribbing, dirty talk yurrr, mentions of Owen so sorry, no use of y/n

A/N: Hey my horny sluts, this was very self indulgent fic. Definitely not for everyone but I wanted to play with this internal homophobia abby angle and through hella porn in it<3 hope you like it:)))

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You were stationed off at a base camp for two months along with a group of WLF soldiers. This group was Issac’s top of the line, best fighters, engineers, and you accompanying as the best medic on line. The area was cased with scars and there was likely to be bloodshed. Issac couldn’t risk letting more than one medic for this long trip but there was no way he was sending a training med to work on his top of line children.

You knew most of the group well since you were always given the honor of fixing them. There were a few girls that kept you busy when there wasn’t a wound to heal. No one you’d keep around for long, you didn’t have the time to start relationships in this job, but a good fuck wasn’t beyond you. Days turned into long nights either stitching lesions or under the next sculpted woman that begged at your knees.

You were used to the attention, you were charming, beautiful, slightly bitchy, maybe a bit overzealous in your work but your forte was needed for these people. The men had attempted their shot with you, but everyone knew where you stood in the sheets. That’s why Abigail Anderson despised you.

It took you awhile to understand, from the moment she found out what you were doing in off hours she resented your lifestyle. Sure, she played it off by saying you were, ‘too distracted for your position’ or that ‘you got around’. Frankly you didn’t understand why she fucking cared. One day drunkenly her best friend Manny had said your ‘ways’ made her uncomfortable.

You knew she had been with her boyfriend Owen for a couple of years, and never left her room without her cross neckless- fuck she’d even shower with it on. That day in the open showers you had seen her look over at your naked body and return her hand to her cross gripping it tight with her eyes closed, leaving in a scoff. You just didn’t understand why her distain for you persisted- you thought it would space off once she got to know you.

After a couple months of backhanded comments, side eyes, and aggression you chose to just distance yourself from her at all costs. Maybe she had gotten the memo since she always requested your secondhand med to treat her, even knowing she wasn’t as suitable.

Once you found out shed be leading the mission for 2 months in close proximity you were blown. You asked Issac to switch you out for your secondhand- but he refused. After days of pestering him, he said he wouldn’t be changing his mind, Abby had asked for you specifically to accompany the mission. Why the fuck would she ask for you was beyond you, but you made it your agenda to fuck with her relentlessly for her decision.

You made sure to chose the room directly next to her so she could hear your sinful cries getting your back blown. leaving your white shirt un-buttoned low enough so your cleavage would spill out when you worked on her, blistering irritated grunts out of her. For someone so worked up about your lifestyle she always seemed to be watching your every move.

Watching you out of the corner of her eye change in the showers, walking out of her room just as you were heavy breathing lip locked with a girl making your way into sin. One time you were stitching a gash on her leg she gripped onto your hip in pain, her eyes trailed to your spilling cleavage before she snapped out of her haze saying, “uhhh- sorry its just painful there. Just fucking hurry up.” Knowing you had phased her you responded in a simple “mhm,” and continued working.

Maybe her morbid curiosity was at play, maybe she was just a fucking homo- but she’d never admit that to anyone and definitely not herself.

A month and a half in the base lagged by, there was only 2 weeks left of the painful glares and snarky comments left from your leader. The area had grown quiet for a while, most of the scars had retreated from your stay. Manny had made the decision for everyone to take the night off, set up a bonfire in the wooded areas behind the abandoned hotel, and get shitfaced on some homemade wine that was finally finished fermentation. It tasted like piss but was strangely intensely stronger than anything you had found in vacant bars.

Once the sun had fallen you were all seated around the roaring fire under the nigh sky. You had downed two glasses of piss wine and were already pretty spent. Abby was perched upon a log across the fire from you, in her usual dominating manspread and arms draped across her meaty thighs, on her fourth cup of sour. The sight was quite shocking- Abby never drank that much, something about the loss of control she didn’t like.

Her eyes were like lasers on you, usually she’d attempt to hide her ever glaring stare, maybe she was too intoxicated to care. All day she was on one, lashing out at people, throwing shit. She was always mildly aggressive, but you had never seen her to this extent.

The girl adorned behind you, pulling at your hips was probably the cause of her disapproving eyes, but this time felt harsher. You watch as she finishes off her glass and returns her eyes back to you with gritted teeth. “Manny hand me the wine,” she barks, her eyes never leaving you. Manny looks at her angered stare, crossing his eyes back to your direction and back to her, “Que pasa amiga, I think you’re good for now,” he says with a laugh.

“Just hand me the fucking wine,” she directs her attention to Manny- some people throw out ‘woahs’ and ‘damns’ at her attitude. Manny hands her the bottle with no reply. “Somebody needs to get fucked already,” you throw out with enough drunken confidence knowing it will rile her up. “Not everything can be fixed with sex, not that you’d understand,” she drives her eyes deeper into your own.

“Well, if I was having the sex you were having, I’d go celibate,” you say causing a guttural laugh from everyone, easing up the built tension.

“Whore,” she retorts.

“Awh someone’s mad her boyfriend can’t make her cum,” you give her a pout.

Her cheeks grow red in anger- maybe embarrassment since you didn’t have to take 2 looks at Owen to know he couldn’t please a women, especially not one of that stature. She darts up from her seat, all but a growl escaping her mouth. She grabs the half full bottle from Manny and takes off.

“What crawled up her ass?” You direct to Manny. He gives you eyes that speak louder than his mouth could utter in a way of ‘you’re the reason she’s so pissed off, you know that’. Maybe you had pushed her too far, but fuck did she deserve it. She deserved to get called on her bullshit for once- everyone just cowered down to her. Sure, she was tall, muscly, and heavily intimidating but you know how to drive the knife right into her.

You enjoyed riling her up, driving her to her very edge. Maybe it was the alcohol talking but you were hot at the sight of her aggression, the way the veins in her arm popped as she ripped the bottle out of Manny’s hand. You weren’t attracted to straight girls, especially not homophobic straights- but you thought of her. Every snarky remark, touching her skin in passings as you healed her danced in your mind.

You brushed off your thoughts, you were just drunk you told yourself. The fire had died down soon after Abby’s fit, everyone was either ready to retire to bed or fuck. You chose the latter with the touchy girl sitting behind you. She was a good one, never had to kick her out after you finished- she knew what you wanted.

You make your way back to the dingy hotel, hand and hand with the pretty brunette. By the time you had made it to your doorway the girl had you up against the door needily. Of course, you let it happen, you were waiting for Abby to conveniently walk out and watch you. She never came out; you were almost disappointed but persisted with the brunette. You made sure to exaggerate every moan, every sinful word, even unsuspectedly convinced her to fuck you against the wall you shared with Abby- just to make sure she would hear.

After orgasming twice, she was out the door, no awkward post-sex cuddling or talking, wasn’t your thing and she knew that. You lay your sleepy drunken head on your pillow ready to sleep. Within five minutes you heard Abby’s door slam shut, and a harsh knock on your door. You knew that you had pissed her off, your job was done so you ignored her calls and nuzzled back onto your pillow with a smirk.

Another knock slams your door, “I know you’re in there, open the door,” Abby huskily demands. You walk over to the door, wearing only your loose tank top and panties. You swing the door open to a disheveled Abby, heavy breathing, eyes half lidded, in a white wife pleaser and loose black sweats, cross necklace adorned by her collarbones. Her muscles looked as if they were pulsing, her abs etched through her shirt.

After seconds of intense glaring, she moves past you into your room without an invitation. “Abby what the hell could you possibly need right now…” you can smell the liquor reeking off her sweaty body, “how much have you had to drink” you say but she quickly cuts you off, “do you really think I cant fucking hear you in here with those- girls?” She says girls with a disgusted flare. “I know you can,” you retort with your arms crossed. “Why are you like that,” she says confused. “Like what Abby? Gay? You can say it- God wont strike you down for speaking it,” you shoot her a smug laugh. “You- you’re fucking insufferable,” she says drunkenly. “You walked into my room; you don’t have to be here.”

She walks up so close to your face you can feel her breath, the smell of sour laced. “I came here to tell you how you disgust me,” she says heavy breathed. “Is that so?” You pierce your eyes into hers, not giving into her intimidation. “Ye-yeah,” she falters at you standing your ground. Her eye contact directs down to your plush lips, she licks her own. You bite your bottom lip to drive into her.

“Why are you such a bitch?” She raises her eyes back to yours, this time glassier, gentler. “You’re mad you don’t scare me,” now you step closer to where you are exchanging each other’s breath. She responds wordlessly breathing heavier than before, lips parted as if she was waiting for something to come out. You stare up into her eyes dragging your bottom lip back into your mouth with your teeth. “Stop fucking doing that,” she demands not moving a muscle.

You give her an innocent pout, “I’m not doing anything Abigail, you can leave right now if you’re so uncomfortable,” trailing your eyes back and fourth from her lips to her eyes. “Give in to me,” Abby pleads almost submissively, her eyes looked like she could cry. “I’m not going to make this easy for you, if you want something take it,” you are eager at this point, still trying to keep your confidence intact.

She gives it a second, probably internally battling, in a huff she mutters “Fuck,” and grabs your face crashing your lips aggressively together. She took the breath out of you, kissing you like she needed it for survival. Both of you are too ravished to process reality. You grabbed aimlessly at her chest needing the friction of her warmth. She forces her tongue onto yours letting a moan escape her mouth. You were done for.

You pull her to your bed never leaving her lips, crashing over boxes and shoes but neither of you falter your embrace. You push her onto your bed, making your way on top of her. Before you can reattach your lips, she pushes a hand into your chest stopping you, “I- I’m not gay,” she says with weary eyes. You simply respond with “okay,” and reattempt to kiss her, she pushes you back again, “okay?” she questions. “Do you want me to me to stop?” You question back. She pulls you in ruggedly, so her mouth is against yours, needy again.

You pull back from her embrace, “I want to hear you say it Anderson,” she shakes her head like a child, like she couldn’t say it aloud. You start to get up from the bed when she pulls you back down grasp heavy and deprived, “jus- just do it, I- I want it.” “Good girl,” you reply and straddle on top of her causing whimpers to flow out of the husky blonde.

You move down to kiss on her neck, biting slightly then licking the wound. You can see her hand white knuckling her cross necklace, eyes shut. Through heavy moans she confesses, “Thi-s is- isn’t right…what you’re doing t- to me.” You smirk into her neck trailing your fingers down her arching chest, “just pretend I’m Owen,” knowing you’ll strike a chord at the mention of her boyfriend.

You go back to her collarbone nibbling and licking as you rise her shirt slowly, exposing her sweaty chiseled stomach. “You don’t fe- feel like him, he doesn’t touch me like this,” before she can finish your hand is under her shirt teasing at her nipple slowly. She throws her head back in a groan, unknowingly bucking her hips into you.

“I’m barely touching you Abby- he’s never done this to you,” you say not surprised, moving your free hand to grip her other nipple. She shakes her head at you in a pout. Seeing her like this, so unraveled and vulnerable made you pulse, you could feel your cunt pooling already.

While you have her eye contact you move your head down to suck and lick circles around her soft pink nipple, her eyes barely open and mouth open panting. While sucking on her bud you trail your hand down to her sweats, teasing your fingertips at the waistband, but continue down to palm her covered pussy.

Her hips jolt up at your touch, “Jesus fuck me!” she yelps. “You say your prayers with that mouth, huh?” You jab, palming her cunt over layers of clothing. Her hips continue to rut against your hand, her hand continues to grip onto her cross for dear life, the other gripped down into your sheets. “Please… please take them off,” She begs you weary eyed. Since she was getting increasingly pathetic you drag down her sweaty pants to reveal grey boxers, a patch of wet pooled at her pussy. You lay kisses down her thighs and legs as you slowly unclothe her.

Once you pull them all the way down you meet your face at her cunt, wrapping your arms around her thick thighs, she couldn’t stop whimpering at your little touches. You place a slight kiss on her boxer clade cunt. “Fuckkkk,” she moans out. “If I eat your pretty pussy, are you going to repent after?” You say smirking at her desperation. “I- I have to, ke-ep going please,” she pants raising her cross to her heart. “Aren’t you a good little servant?” You drag down her soaked boxers.

You push your fingers into her soaked slit pushing it open to admire her. “You’re so fucking wet fuck,” you say gawking at the ‘straight’ girls mound, her slick running down her thighs. “a- are you going to use your fingers,” she asks in a pant. “We’ll get there,” you say smirking latching your tongue on her swollen clit. “oh my god,” she screams out at the feeling of your tongue against her.

You begin sucking and tracing crosses and circles on her clit that causes her back to arch her back and let go off her cross to grip into the sheets with both hands. “Fuck fuck fuck- you feel s’good fuck me fuck me,” she begins babbling. You start to tease her soaked hole with your finger that sent her hips bucking into your hand to force entry.

“So impatient Anderson,” you taunt her. “Ill do wh-whatever you want just please fuck me,” she begs you now cupping your face with her large veiny hands, her eyes droopy and pout on her lips. “Tell me how much you like getting fucked by a girl,” you pump just the tip of your pointer finger into her entrance. “You feel so good,” she says panting in desperation.

“Not good enough,” you say pulling out your fingertip. She whimpers feeling your retreat. “I- I worship you, yo- you feel so good Ill get on my knees and worship you please baby,” she looks like she’s nearing tears, but the pleading hits you deep in your core. You needed to see her fall apart just as much as she needed to feel it.

Without warning you plunge two fingers deep inside of her cushiony walls, sending her falling back into the sheets, her hands gripped into your scalp. You return back to her clit, watching her chest rise and fall in breath idly, sweat dripping down the creases of her abs. You hear as she mumbles prayer under her breath, maybe she was worshiping her god, maybe at this point you were her god.

You continued nonetheless; it didn’t matter at this point she had submitted pathetically to you. Your tongue laps at her creamy slit, your fingers coating in her slick. “I-m going to cum I- cant take that much longer,” she moans out shaking around your head.

You pull out of her abruptly making her whine out, sitting up on her elbows. “Not yet…” you say getting up taking off your soaked panties and returning to her. She watches you intently, her eyes grow at the sight of your cunt. “A-are you going to let me touch you?” She asks doe eyed. “No, I’m going to rub my cunt against yours, okay?” she sheepishly nods. “Gonna make sure you cum from just my pussy,” she whimpers at your words.

You nuzzle your cunt on top of hers in between her thighs. “You feel so good against me fuck,” she whines. You lazily drag your clit against her as moans now flow out your own mouth. She grips into your hip helping you grind into her, at the slight act of dominance causes you whimper into her raised thigh. “Fuck keep t-talking you sound so fucking good,” her mouth is wide open, beads of sweat on her legs mixing with your own. You feel as your slick combines with hers making a complete mess on your sheets.

“Baby I- I’m so close,” she whimpers gripping so deeply into your hip she was sure to bruise you. “Cum for me pretty girl, be a good girl and serve me,” you pant driving your eyes into the broken Abigail. She begins shaking at your words, falling apart beneath you. “fuck fuck fuck oh my fucking god i-m cu-mming ahhh,” she begins soaking your sheets. Of course, she was a fucking squirter.

You help her ride out her orgasm, gently rubbing down her thigh with your fingertips. “Wh- why is it so wet?” she rises groggily and confused. You giggle at her innocence, “you squirted dumbass, you’ve never done that before?” you cant help but grin up at her beauty and pure innocence. “No never, I’ve never even…you know…reached my peak with someone before,” you look into her eyes in pure shock gapping your mouth exaggeratedly.

“God I really would go celibate if I was you,” you giggle, and she gives you a slight smirk pulling you down on top of her. You circle your fingers across her chest, feeling her breath steady, she drags her fingers through your messy hair. “I’m not going to tell anyone Abby, this can be between us.” You say assuring her. “o-okay,” she responds sheepishly as if there was something else in her throat. Maybe she wanted to say it would never happen again, that her sexuality was intact after your night, maybe she wanted to say she wanted to leave Owen and linger on your skin forever, or maybe she began to repent.

#abby anderson #the last of us #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby angst #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson tlou2 #sub abby #smut #tlou2 #tlou smut

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wndaswife · 4 months

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trying your hardest | wanda maximoff & gn!reader

After moving to America to join the Avengers, Wanda wants to finally make a friend to ease her loneliness. She hopes to become friends with you, and frankly, Wanda idolizes you, but her social skills are... subpar at best.

Word count: 5020

Tags: fluff, humour, some angst, emo wanda being a baby, a little thing, a small very tiny little thing, wanda has a very big crush on you :3 (she doesn't know it yet tho cuz she baby)

A/N: for plot purposes, imagine the avengers didn’t have a catfight after aou

gif credit to (i tried really hard and i CANNOT find who made this gif im sorry)

Wanda Maximoff never really had an education as a child. What education was available in Sokovia was expensive, and despite her father’s late working hours, the twins’ parents could only ever afford their apartment’s rent. The twins were homeschooled as well as their parents could teach them, but after the bombing, they were on their own.

Government-funded schooling helped them for only so long. The schools they were sent to were decaying, and always under dwindling government watch from ongoing airstrikes. The ground shook with explosive tremors as they commuted to school on foot. Wanda and Pietro stayed at an orphanage with hundreds of other children whose parents had passed due to the war — and the Avengers.

Even the government’s debt caught up with what was left of Sokovia. Billions of foreign debt not paid, volume of imports that had increased exponentially since Sokovia worked on rebuilding their country weren’t making enough revenue to pay exporters back. Hundreds of children were booted from government care and onto the streets. The twins attempted to learn on their own, to become informed educated people if they were to ever make a difference in the world, but in Sokovia, even resilience could only get one so far.

Then, Doctor Strucker came along, promising them the extermination of the Avengers, the Western terrorists who had made the already politically-unstable and war-torn country their battleground.

In hopes to cure the world from their terrorist reign, both Wanda and Pietro agreed to Strucker’s experiments, but the education they were given intended for them to become weapons. They knew little of real geography and world history — only HYDRA’s propaganda meant to poison their minds with blind hatred and little else.

When it seemed like you couldn’t be any more different from Wanda as it was, you were also the team’s brain. Stark and Banner specialised in physics and mechanics, but you were the team’s hub for everything else. From computer science to philosophy, you knew everything. No one exceeded you in developing team strategy, setting the stages for mission locations, profiling adversaries, and a dozen of other things Wanda couldn’t have even fathomed when she first met the Avengers in person.

It took Wanda only several moments to realise you weren’t a frontline fighter from your muffled voice in the Avengers’ earpieces to their callouts of your name as frequent, and perhaps even moreso, than their teammates that fought alongside them on the field despite your physical absence.

Y/N — that was your name.

When she had fought the Avengers in Novi Grad, creeping behind the Western superpowers like a heavy looming shadow, Wanda had looked for you. Strategically, it was a rational move. You were the centre of their battle, the heart of their teamwork.

And yet, you were nowhere to be found.

It was only until she had crept up behind Clint Barton when your voice grew clearer than ever before. From the tiny earpiece, you were controlling the field. Perhaps you were just outside, or maybe you were in another country. No matter the distance, Wanda supposed your hold on the battle would be no less effective.

It was the distraction of thinking about you, perhaps — Y/N, the invisible hand — or Barton’s sole intuition, Wanda did not know, nor did she have very much time to think it over, that had made it possible for him to counter her magic.

Then there was pain — immeasurable pain that Wanda hadn’t felt since Strucker’s experiments. It shot through her forehead like a dozen bullets had permeated through her skull. Pietro grounded her, and soon after, the twins targeted Banner.

Despite the rumours about him, the insatiable angry force he was told to be, his mind was the easiest to corrupt. Mental instability and insecurity racked his mind, and he quickly shifted into the green beast the Maximoffs had heard so much about.

Carrying his younger sister, Pietro took the two of them back to Ultron’s base.

They had won that day.

You were all Wanda could think about even while she and Pietro were off missions. You weren’t the Avengers’ frontline defence like Steve Rogers, nor were you the brute strength of the team like Bruce Banner. You held your team in your hands rather than tugging them along by their leashes although you likely could if you wanted to.

Y/N.

Who were you?

On the television after the fight on Novi Grad, Iron Man and Hulk’s brawl in Johannesburg was on the news. The city was in shambles. Pietro said something about the deaths of innocents and the success of his sister’s magic in having the Avengers turn against themselves. But Wanda could only think of what you had thought when Stark and Banner came back to their compound, beaten and sore from none other than their own fists. Wanda assumed the Avengers’ compound — wherever that was — was where you were too.

Wanda wondered how you were dealing with the fight at Johannesburg. What were you saying about her and Pietro?

Later that day, Ultron approached the twins in their bedroom and turned on the television. Despite having been offered separate bedrooms, they insisted on sharing one. Sitting atop their respective beds on the opposite sides of the room, there was someone speaking on the television about Johannesburg across from the interviewer. Their expression was stern but their eyes were solemn. Eyebrows were furrowed together, masking concern and worry; if Wanda knew anything, it was how to read someone.

“Y/N,” the interviewer began, and Wanda’s eyes widened, her head lifting from being held up by her hands, elbows on her pillow as it laid flat atop her crossed legs. “As the Avengers’ strategist, as many put it, how are you planning on handling the devastation that came upon Johannesburg, and the inevitable contact that the Avengers will continue to have with innocent uninvolved civilians?”

The question was packed, and the news station quite clearly had their own sentiments about the Avengers; they were setting you up.

So that was how you looked. Wanda swallowed and felt her chest flutter.

With your upper lip stiff and your posture unbelievably straight, you answered without equivocation. “A common misinformed perspective of any conflict follows the belief that there is any one party entirely responsible for the consequences of violent confrontation, such as the one we witnessed in Johannesburg,” you were saying. With the way her wide eyes were pinned on the television screen, Wanda didn’t notice the way her brother eyed her obviously peaked interest.

“I don’t believe the Avengers are the world’s most honourable superheroes,” you continued. Ultron shifted and Wanda’s head tipped to the side, her interest in you ever growing. “I don’t think anyone is, no matter whose side you’ve taken since the conflict recently — and perhaps even after the invasion of New York’s in 2012.”

That was The Incident, Wanda recalled, when the Avengers terrorised New York. That’s what HYDRA had always told her and Pietro.

“Despite whose side you may be on, as differing as our collective opinions may be, one thing is undeniable — we are all trying to reach a goal of peace for the world, fighting for what we believe is just. There is nothing more powerful than that. Perhaps, it is idealism that serves to be the strength of humanity.”

Ultron laughed morosely. He ridiculed your words, but Wanda wasn’t listening. Whatever you were talking about wasn’t only about Johannesburg. What were you referencing? Who were your words meant for?

Suddenly, your head turned to the camera and Wanda met your eyes. Everything in her froze, her eyes undeviating from your face.

“Wanda and Pietro Maximoff,” you spoke. Pietro looked over at Wanda, shock written on every inch of his face, and Ultron’s eyes darted between the twins, almost accusationally as he undoubtedly suspected coercion. Wanda almost expected you to step through the television screen and into her bedroom. “I know what you want.”

The screen was shut off suddenly, the black mirror of the television reflecting Wanda’s astonished expression. She looked away, shutting her eyes as she felt the burning gaze of Ultron on her. But your words reverberated in Wanda’s mind until your every feature and movement of your lips was memorised. Like a promise, like an ode, your words were immortalised within her.

Pietro wasn’t there when you took Wanda in your arms and saved her from a falling Sokovia. He wasn’t there when you laid her down onto the Helicarrier, nor when you took her hand and told her she’d be taken care of. Wanda cried into your chest at the sight of her brother’s body.

What would he have said if he saw the way your arm refused to leave from around Wanda’s shoulders as the two of them trailed behind his body while he was carried into the compound?

Pietro liked you, and would’ve loved to meet you. He referenced your broadcasted interview several times during their fight in Sokovia. He was proud to work with the Avengers, and proud to finally work towards their goal to help people just like them. He wanted to meet you.

Your voice was different from what Wanda remembered from the broadcast, and not because her memory had failed her, but because you were just… different. You were real, and not a picture on a wall or an untouchable reality forever separated from her by a television screen. As she watched you talk and laugh with the other Avengers, you were real.

But if Wanda was honest, she was much too shy to even start a conversation with you. Perhaps it might’ve been easier to approach you if you were an admired character on one of her favourite television shows, but it was exactly what made her admire you so much that also made her feel so shy around you.

Granted, there was much to adjust to now that she lived in America and was now a part of the Avengers, and she did believe herself to be a generally introverted person, but she was especially nervous around you.

Wanda had gotten enough confidence to speak with some team members. Natasha was welcoming and kind. Thor was easy not to feel nervous around, but his energy was far too much for Wanda to handle just yet. Bruce was much more comfortable to chat with, and Wanda found that he was able to be rather nice once he forgave her for her associations with Ultron. Steve was always very kind to Wanda and she felt very safe around him, with Steve always trying to make her feel like part of the team, but she found that they didn’t have very much in common.

And there was Vision, who seemed to have taken a liking to her since even before the final battle against Ultron. He was nice company, but she found her mind preoccupied thinking of you while in his company, wishing that it was you who gave her as much attention as Vision did.

However, she’d been wanting to start a conversation with you since the day she arrived at the compound. Initially, she needed time to herself, and along with Steve, you also made the effort to check in on her and give her your support.

Once she was finally able to gain some footing in adjusting to things while shouldering the weight of her losses, Wanda started becoming more active within the team by joining training sessions. During them, she found herself unable to stop looking at you, watching what you were doing, seeing how you interacted with everyone.

Even as the Avengers’ primary strategist that was almost never in the field, you still made efforts to train and stay connected and involved with the team — and Wanda quickly learned that training was a major part of team building.

You were everything Wanda wished she could be more like; you were the kind of person she had never thought existed in a world she believed was only full of cruelty and injustice until recently.

There was an upcoming party at the Avengers Tower in celebration of the assigned team’s return from a successful mission tracking down a recently-located HYDRA base still hiding out. It was almost any ordinary mission, but it was the first step towards steadily eradicating all of HYDRA’s bases, even after Strucker’s primary base was taken down in Sokovia. Though Steve did also tell Wanda that he felt that Tony also primarily wanted to find any reason to celebrate since it’d been some time.

Wanda hadn’t been to any of the parties yet, and she thought that she’d be able to use this one as a chance to start a conversation with you.

Wasn’t that what people did at parties? Talk?

Truthfully, she didn’t quite know for sure — she’d only ever heard about them through the sitcoms she watched as a child. She knew only of dramatised American portrayals of teenage parties through television.

Whatever it was people actually did at parties, Wanda was certain she would be able to make some effort to talk to you. At least in a social setting, it wouldn’t be strange for her to start a conversation with you.

Wanda made herself look nice and presentable, but not too formal since she didn’t want to overdress or bring too much attention to herself. She wasn’t sure what might happen if her plan to talk with you didn’t end up working, and if she was somehow left with nothing to do, she wanted to be able to slip away without anyone noticing, as if she had never made any attempt to come at all.

While deliberating whether it was better to arrive on time or a bit later once the party had been going on for some time, Wanda realised that at some point too much time had passed and her only option now was to join the party a bit later.

It was only once she arrived at the penthouse floor where the party was being held that Wanda finally realised how terribly thought-out her plan was.

What would happen if she didn’t get to talk with you? What would happen if she did, and she only made a fool of herself? Would it be better, then, to stay as two people who’d never conversed so that she might retain what impression you had of her now? Even if that meant she would never get to talk with you the way she wanted?

It was far too late now to change her mind if she wanted to, as she soon found herself walking further from the elevators and into the party.

The party was rather filled; mostly, they were familiar faces, but it looked like many brought guests, and some guests had brought some of their own. It seemed that Steve was right — atop of celebrating the taking down of the HYDRA base, this was also a social get-together.

She was still relatively at the edges of the room, so she was still going unnoticed. As she walked over to the bar, fidgeting with her fingers as she did, she took the time to look around and try to spot you. She reached the bar, crossing her forearms on top of its counter, and tried to draw the least attention to herself while avoiding eye contact with anyone as her eyes raked through the crowd.

Eventually she caught sight of you also at the bar, but at the very edge with your own drink, your back facing the party. Wanda’s chest fluttered and she felt she nearly stumbled moving one foot in front of the other when she turned to walk towards you.

She worried what would happen if someone suddenly approached you from behind, which would force her to then stop wherever she was standing and pretend she hadn’t just failed at her attempt to come up to you.

The pressing concern aided her greatly, and she was well on her way to coming up to you without hesitation. But once she actually made her way to your side and once you raised your head from your glass and looked at her, Wanda damned herself for being so distracted, now without a plan or even a terribly-planned script to follow in making conversation with you. She didn’t even get to look at what you were wearing.

It would be too strange of her to look you up and down before greeting you, right?

“Hi,” she said, hoping that the small smile she felt on her face was actually there lest she look like an absolute fool.

You turned around in your seat in order to face her, and now having your complete, undivided attention made Wanda’s legs feel like mush. “Hi,” you replied with a friendly smile. “Are you enjoying yourself? I don’t think I’ve seen you at a party yet.”

Wanda swallowed and nervously drew shapes against the bar counter with her fingernails, also trying her best to maintain a steady, friendly smile. “No — this is the first I’ve gone to. I haven’t been here for very long. I decided only a moment ago to come.”

“I’m glad you chose to come,” you told her and suggested for her to take the barstool beside you. Wanda lifted herself onto the seat and sat, facing you.

While you were talking, Wanda took the chance to look at what you were wearing. You looked nice, and Wanda thought you always dressed in a way that put-together, respected people did. She saw you in some likeness to the well-dressed characters on the sitcoms she liked — but, of course, modern.

Maybe she had been taking too long to respond, for you spoke again: “How have you been doing? I know that the move must have been rather hard to go through.”

When she took a moment to respond and found that a response wasn’t immediately escaping her, Wanda felt panic settle in her chest. She knew she should have planned out what to say. She looked like an idiot in front of you. She didn’t know the first thing about socialising or making friends.

“It was hard,” she said finally. “It is hard. Not so bad now. I mean, I’m trying to adjust.”

You nodded in understanding and Wanda felt herself losing your interest; she was sure that your responses’ intentions were now only to remain polite, to keep conversing with her because you knew she didn’t make very much effort to go out.

Then you asked, “Did you want me to order you a drink?”

“Oh, I’m okay — I don’t drink,” Wanda answered, fidgeting with her fingers between her knees. Truthfully, she’s never tried alcohol before. Maybe she should have taken you up on your offer.

“How have you been getting along with the team?”

“I think well. I like everyone. They’ve been very kind to me,” Wanda said. She could hear herself as she spoke to you; she sounded robotic and uninteresting. She thought she might try her hand at being honest about what she was thinking then and there. “But Pietro was always the most social of us both. It is hard to get along with others without him leading the conversation.”

Wanda must have not noticed how solemn she became after she mentioned Pietro, for you reached out and brushed her shoulder with your hand supportively, your fingers squeezing gently around her and lingering for a moment before letting your arm drop.

“I understand,” you sympathised. “You don’t need to pressure yourself into anything — really. I think you fit in here well, and I think you’ve been doing a wonderful job.”

That was the first time anyone truly supported Wanda like that; she was supported by the team as she was grieving the loss of her brother, always being told that she had a shoulder to cry on or a helping hand if she ever wanted someone to talk to.

There was something frustrating about the way the team approached her grief. They had to have anticipated that she would feel a bit better at some point — or at least well enough to get back to team member material.

In the way she was spoken to, Pietro and her struggles with his death were always approached as something she would get over at some point or another — like Pietro was something she was going to get over. She didn’t expect anyone to understand how she felt nor to share in her grievances, but it seemed to her that what she was going through was seen only as a temporary distraction to the rest of the team.

They were kind in giving her their support, but her grief never seemed quite real enough to them.

Granted, she was rather new to the team, so she understood, to some degree, their inability to understand her pain. But it was frustrating, nevertheless.

But with you, it was different.

You didn’t talk about Pietro or her struggles and pain like it was something to get over. You valued her as she was now, and saw her efforts as they were now.

Wanda felt slightly pathetic for how worked up she was getting over your response, be it as brief as it was, but what you said meant quite a lot to her. She felt, for the first time, that she was being spoken to as a real person rather than a ball of temporary grief and pain.

“Thank you… I really appreciate–”

She was cut off when you were called to meet one of Tony’s friends, an expert in software development who had even helped program some of the software you used for communication with the team while they were working on the field. Naturally, they wanted the two of you to meet.

For a moment, Wanda forgot how popular you were amongst your colleagues. Why wouldn’t you be? It was only that you had a certain kindness and authenticity about you that seemed signature to you. But if Wanda admired that about you, and if she idolised you, why wouldn’t anyone else?

You looked at Tony calling you over then at Wanda, who was awkwardly staring at the floor in some pitiful stance of defeat. It made your chest tighten.

This was Wanda’s first time joining in at one of the parties, and you were the first she spoke to. Moreover, there was a kind of sensitivity to her that you knew lay beyond her typical timidity.

Through the conversation with her, you could vaguely see Wanda’s eyes flickering behind your shoulder occasionally, where the floor’s balcony was. From there, one would have a view of the spacious training fields and the expansive forests beyond that separated the base from the main roads.

Tonight, there were clear skies and a rather prominent moon.

Gently, you tapped the back of Wanda’s hand that was resting on the edge of the bar to get her attention, and she raised her head and met your eyes.

“Would you like to step out onto the balcony with me?” you asked. “I’m not quite in the mood to talk with them right now.”

Wanda seemed to perk up and she straightened in her seat. She nodded, and when you stepped off from your barstool, she followed and trailed behind you as you headed for the balcony.

She watched from behind as you led her forward. She played idly with the tips of her fingers as she watched your hair brush against your back, watching the back of your head attentively as if it could tell her anything about you.

Frankly, she felt a bit starstruck.

A certain panic settled within her as you opened the balcony door and ushered Wanda outside and into the warm evening air; she didn’t know what to say now.

She wasn’t certain if she was interesting enough at all to have such intimate conversation with.

What could she say that could possibly be of interest to you?

In spite of the disappointed chatter and lighthearted jabs from the rest of the team in response to your very-obvious aversion to socialising, you closed the balcony door behind you until it clicked shut softly until it was only you and Wanda outside.

“Is it okay that you’re out here with me?” Wanda asked, looking at you as she stepped beside you.

“Of course,” you answered and walked forward until you could stand against the rails of the balcony. “Why not?”

Wanda appreciated how easy it was to talk with you, and how your relationship with the team wasn’t all that you were. “I thought that maybe you might prefer being out there.”

“No — I want to be here.”

Wanda flushed and she looked away, using the excuse of looking out past the training fields as an excuse to hide her face from you.

Making a bold move, Wanda thought that she might be honest with you; she had the real opportunity to make a friend, granted she pulled it off. “Y/N, I really appreciate you being so kind to me.” She garnered some confidence and turned her body and looked at you.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” you replied bashfully, and Wanda noticed that you also seemed a bit timid. She thought you were sensitive, and she liked that.

“But also,” Wanda added, taking in a small breath, “I really appreciate your effort in being sympathetic towards Pietro and I, even when we did not deserve it — especially after Johannesburg. Before your interview broadcast, I had never known of such kindness. It seemed you knew more about what Pietro and I wanted before even we did.”

Without a thought behind it, Wanda’s eyes left yours and she added, “I wish he was able to meet you. I am sure he would have felt equally as stunned by you.”

You asked, “I stun you now, do I?”

Surprised by the realisation of what she said aloud, Wanda looked at you and at the sight of your slight smile, also realised that you were teasing her. She flushed and rubbed her warm cheek with the back of her knuckle and distracted herself with two of the party guests walking through the field.

Wanda reminded herself that she came to make a friend — to be friends with you. So she spoke again. “To be honest, yes,” she replied. “I think you are admirable; everyone seems to like you very much, and the kind of bravery and kindness you have is of a kind I did not previously know could ever be sincere.”

She finally said it, and now, Wanda felt anxious about what you might say next.

You shifted and repositioned yourself as you pondered for a moment in consideration. “Well, I have to confess that most if not all of my bravery is rather insincere — I’m truly not as brave as you might think. In fact, I would argue that you’re more brave than I; you’ve experienced so much, undergone so much change, and yet you seem to have more drive than anyone to try your hardest at adjusting and getting back on your feet.”

You thought she was braver than you? Wanda could collapse. She felt her chest flutter.

“But… the kindness,” you said, “is very sincere. I’m glad you see it that way.”

Wanda found herself stepping closer to you, feeling more comfortable in your company and feeling that she wanted to be closer to you physically, to hear your words within a closer vicinity and to see your face free of the soft shadows that the moonlight casted along the curve of your nose and the angle of your cheekbone.

“I think you’re really special,” you told her. “I’m happy that you’re a part of the team. I’m glad you’re here.”

In all her life, there was only one place Wanda ever felt she belonged — with her family. Over some time, what this meant was redefined with the bombing of her home when she was ten and, recently, with the loss of her brother. There was a feeling of loss, an empty pit that burrowed itself within the deepest depths of Wanda’s identity where Pietro and her family and some sort of identity should have been.

It was not only others and her country that she lost, but a part of herself, when all the landmarks she had ever belonged to were stolen from her. But if she could learn anything from still being able to stand where she was and try her best and be brave — like you said — in spite of all her loss and grief, it was that she was not all that she identified herself with.

She still existed, and was still worth something, even without all that was lost.

It would be difficult to even begin finding who she was, exactly, without Pietro and Sokovia and her parents and the truths of herself and the world that HYDRA had always taught her. But she hoped that you might be at least the first step to her self-discovery — you were her first friend.

“Are you alright?” you asked, tipping your head down slightly to try getting a better look at Wanda’s face.

Wanda had lost herself in her thoughts and forgot to reply to you. She must have been silent for a bit of time. “Yes, I’m okay.” She subtly swiped at her cheeks when she realised she was crying — perhaps it was from thinking of her family or of Sokovia, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the moment was that she started crying — as she looked over at the field for a distraction again.

Without another word, you stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Wanda’s shoulders, bringing her against your body in a soft hug. It was wordless and quiet and casual — support and comfort without any conditions.

Every time Wanda believed that she’d fully grasped the world’s capacity for kindness, believed that there couldn't possibly be something more gentle than what you have thus far shown her, you prove her wrong.

She hoped she would never be right.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #marvel #marvel fanfiction #elizabeth olsen

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ssahotchnerr · 6 months

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Ok I just got this image in my head of working out at the FBI gym to unwind after a particularly bad case, and Aaron had the same idea and so you're just there getting distracted because you can't help but stare at him and maybe he finally notices and he's amused - I would die (a happy death)

distractions

you and me both <3 cw; gn!, bau!reader, mutual pining, suggestiveness, your basic cm case descriptions, aaron being hot per usual

your first priority after the jet touched down - the bau's gym.

the case had been unsettling; a not-so-happy ending. sure, you had gotten the guy, but not before he had taken out his most recent victim. he had known it was only a matter of time until he was caught, he had known police had shut down the surrounding area, and managed to complete his endgame before being apprehended.

it happened, sucked when it did. and rather than going straight home, a distraction was in order; to move your body instead of laying in the dark internalizing what could have been done differently.

at the late hour, you expected the gym to be empty, and you had been correct, until aaron walked in about ten minutes after you did.

he seemed just as surprised to see you as you did him, silently nodding a hello at you, heading for the treadmills.

you had been on a yoga mat, stretching and warming up your muscles before doing anything strenuous. but at the sight of him, your impending workout plans were far gone.

you were used to seeing aaron in his usual suit, you'd seen him in casual clothes a few times due to team outings, but nothing could have prepared you for the skin-tight black shirt he was sporting. it was clinging in the all right places - his torso, biceps, and yup - you could've sworn he did have the faintest of abs.

you've always been attracted to him, but this. your mouth had immediately gone dry, your body felt warm despite your lack of movement, and no pure thoughts were in your mind in any capacity.

you tried your hardest to not look, but you couldn't tear your eyes away. how could you not? first reason being, it was him. and then the longer he ran, the sweat caused his shirt to stick to his skin more if it were possible, his chest rose up and down the heavier he breathed. as he jogged his calves flexed, and god were his thighs sexy. his shorts were on the longer side, mid-thigh to be exact, leaving more to the imagination than you would have preferred. but the slightly, newly exposed skin was still, well, new.

so you stayed put, choosing to just admire the view before you. but hopefully to not be too obvious, you performed sit ups; lingering upright to grant yourself the visual before laying back down.

well, at least this is one way to forget about the case.

give or take another five minutes, aaron adjusted the treadmill's settings, slowing to a stop.

"that's it?" you teased, a soft laugh leaving you as you straightened your legs out, reaching for your toes.

as if you were the one to speak, barely moving an inch.

"yeah," he took a swig of his water bottle, panting as he caught his breath. "it's a bit hard to focus with you here."

caught.

"oh my god," your face burned with embarrassment, scrambling to your feet. "i didn't mean to- i mean, you just looked so..."

aaron laughed handsomely, approaching you as your words trailed off. "i meant i don't want to trip over my feet. especially not with you here. it wouldn't look very good for me, i don't think."

oh? "oh."

"but go on." aaron teased, his lips pulling into a smirk as his eyes met yours, dropping for a moment. he was studying you this time around - the light sweat coating your skin, and not very subtly staring at your lips. his breath picked up again, his gaze returning to yours. you also realized, he was dangerously close. "i looked...?"

you swallowed, blinking up at him and managing a soft, "what?"

"i saw you staring. now c'mon, don't start something you can't finish, sweetheart."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x you

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misserabella · 1 year

Text

ପ look like an angel ଓ

modern! college ellie williams x innocent reader!

part 2!<3

summary; ellie williams, the college’s most popular dealer takes an interest in you, the most angelic sweet shy girl she had ever landed eyes on. and when the opportunity arises, she makes a move. she wants you to be hers.

cw; +18 content! minors dni!, slight sa (a guy gropes readers ass before ellie punched him), blood, fighting, cursing, mentions of drugs such as weed, consumption of weed, extremely innocent (ellie is pretty much her first time in everything), making out, humping plushies —ellie shows reader how to and watches—, dirty thoughts, tension, teasing, ellie uses pretty names for reader, no use of y/n, dom! ellie and sub! reader, praising, choking, finger fucking (r receiving), thigh riding (r), oral sex (r receiving), hickeys, piv sex, strap on sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, tit playing and sucking, cum eating, squirting…

REMINDER: english is not my mother language so i apologize if there are some mistakes <3 !¡ either ways, i hope y’all like it. <3

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!

ellie williams was not a good person. she was rough, harsh and couldn’t care less about the rest. she liked very few people. and had two friends: jesse and dina. but she also was very popular. she was the best dealer in her college, and had a million of girls fawning over her shoulders for god knows why. she didn’t really care about them anyways.

not when there was you.

you and your beautiful smile, which seemed to brighten up any room you were in. you and your sweet perfume, which made her want to hide on your neck for hours on end. you and your soft voice, bambi eyes and soft perfect hair…

you were shy, always talking with your honey sweet voice that made her bones melt. you were also smart, the smartest girl in your whole course, though you never really showed it off.

you loved white, and soft colors, but you’ll always go for a baby pink. your lips were always shining in a pinkish gloss that distracted ellie a little bit too much, but not as much as the tiny skirts and stockings that you liked to wear on a daily basis.

you looked like a doll, like a goddamn angel.

and maybe you were, ‘cause you were so… innocent.

you didn’t like drinking, or smoking, or parties. you’ve never dared to go to one. just the thought of it gave you goosebumps. and you’ve never even thought about the possibility of taking drugs.

your days were calm. always the same routine. go to college, get to your dorm, study and go to bed. it was simple. but you always had time for yourself though; reading a book, writing on your journal, listening to pop music…

the perfect student. the perfect girl.

and ellie… well. ellie was ellie. a complete opposite from you.

she was kind of a mess. always on her own world. she never took notes in class, instead filling notebooks with her drawings. she still passes with straight A’s her tests though —something Dina couldn’t really believe, always saying that she was bribing the teachers with free weed—.

she wore black. mostly. or things such as sweats and tank tops. and obviously, no makeup. as her father said once… not very girly. but she didn’t really cared. her hair was always in a bun somehow, half up or all the way up. and quiet. she liked to listen, and watch.

that’s why she knew so many things about you even if she hadn’t talked to you once. not once in the whole course even when you sat together on most of your classes.

you were always alone and by the windows, liking the silence and the views that the garden of the school offered you. you didn’t have anything else to look at from that to the chalkboard, since to your right was sitting ellie. and you never looked mat ellie.

you couldn’t, ‘cause your heart would start to beat too fast and your cheeks would flush. at first you thought the feeling in your stomach anytime she would be near was fear. she was quite intimidating. but then you started to notice that you’d stare a little bit too much at her.

she was always listening to music. she also played some sports from time to time with jesse and his friends —she likes to exercise and you could see that in the muscular yet thin body that she had—. she had a scar on her right eyebrows and the most beautiful green eyes you’d ever seen, always rimmed in a reddish color. she had freckles too, and auburn hair that shone when the sun hit her. she was popular. way too popular. with all the girls of your class head over heels for her. you would blush anytime they’d gossip about her, talking about her muscles, and her tattoo, and…

her hands.

the girls had said something about her hands, about how good the looked, and ‘how good they could make them feel’. you didn’t really knew how her hands would make them feel good… maybe if ellie played with their hair?

also, having them around their necks. you’d frowned. wouldn’t that hurt? i mean in the series that your dad watched, it didn’t look alright… since characters would die by it and stuff.

but you had to agree that her hands were pretty, nails short and slim large fingers.

you looked away when you felt heat rising to your cheeks.

shit. you were staring again.

why were you feeling so hot all of a sudden? you were feeling kind of sticky too.

you sighed in relief when you heard the class being dismissed, quickly getting everything on your backpack to leave the class. ellie got the last goodbye of your perfume when you dashed by.

you were quick to get to your locker, opening it to show cute decorations and pictures, along with books and notebooks.

you were putting some stuff inside your backpack when suddenly a voice startled you.

“hey beautiful.” you turned around to face a boy with brown eyes and short wavy brown hair. you flushed, ‘cause you didn’t know him at all, and you were shy with strangers. he smiled. “i was just wondering if you’d be up to letting me take you out on a date.” your eyes shot open. “you know… you could always wear one of those pretty skirts for me. would make it so much easier once we get in the back of the car.” he stepped closer, and you backed up until your back was hitting your back.

“uhm… i don’t think…”

“come on, don’t be a prude. you’re basically asking for the attention, i can almost see your whole fucking ass.” you squealed when you felt his hand land on it, grabbing your skin and harshly digging his fingers. you were about to push him away when someone else was doing it for you.

the boy cursed when he received a good solid right hook straight to his nose, making it start bleeding.

“she said no, fucking asshole.” and then your heart was beating like crazy again, ‘cause i’m front of you was standing ellie williams, with a scowl on her face and her knuckles bathed in blood. you stared at her, and then at the boy. “if you wanted a little bit of skin contact you should have asked me. i have plenty to give.” she smirked, devilish, before punching again.

when dina and jesse finally came up to her to calm her down, the guy was already bleeding on the floor, and her knuckles were burning up.

but she wasn’t really listening to their worried questions, ‘cause she was looking at you.

“are you okay?”

after that, you and ellie grew closer. she made you feel safe. she kept you safe. no more guys had even dared to stare at you. but people seemed to approach you more since they’d seen you around her. something ellie really didn’t like.

“ellie…, you need to stop being so mean.” your doe eyes were staring at her, your soft voice making her heart beat faster. “they were just being nice.” you said as a pair of girls had come up to you to tell you how much they loved your outfit.

“a little bit too nice.” she muttered, one of her arms surrounding your shoulders to pull you flush close to her side. your stomach jumped. “although is true, you look really pretty today princess.” she smiled, and you blushed.

you stuttered and a smirk took over her lips.

“why are you getting so shy about now, hm? look at me sweet girl.” she said, leaning closer and down to catch your eyes.

“nothing. thank you ellie.” you gave her a sweet and shy smile. and she had to stop the urge to just kiss the hell out of you then.

fuck, had you ever even been kissed before?

“you’re welcome, angel.”

you opened the door to your dorm room, and ellie thought she might as well be a genius, ‘cause of course this was heaven and you were indeed an angel.

it smelled of your sweet perfume and cherries —probably due to the difusor on your desk—. it was filled with pink and books, and cute pictures everywhere. you had even your own little plants sitting on your window. they were being well taken care of, petals on full display and color. trinkets were laying everywhere, and it was clean and tidy. you even had plushies on your bed. ellie’s heart squeezed when an image of you hugging them to sleep went through your mind. jesus christ. you were so cute…

ellie just wanted to move in. stay in there forever. change her place with your plushies and hold you herself.

ellie took a seat on your bed, and soft blankets received her. you looked at her, and a happy smile crossed your plushy lips.

“what are you smiling at, hm?” she inquired.

“dunno. just… like you here.” you shrugged, cheeks flushing.

“i like being here too, baby.” she smiled and you blushed.

you two spent some time together watching some films, and talking. ellie loved to hear you talk, even if you were sometimes a little bit too shy to try.

now, ellie was smoking.

of course you knew she smoked, you really didn’t mind her doing it on your room as well. you also knew that ellie dealt weed. everybody knew. but you had never gone anywhere near it. so this was a first time for you. it interested you though. you’d always been scared of it. in the end it was a drug and drugs were harmful, but this one… this one seemed good. it made ellie feel good. more relaxed. and it made her happy. laugh more. talk more. get closer…

she always made sure to not let the smoke of the blunt even go near you, always blowing it away from you. you still could smell it around the room, that earthy calming smell now fusing with your own. ellie couldn’t love more the idea of leaving something ‘hers’ in your room, to leave a mark.

she was laughing, but her heart was slow, you could feel it on your back as she had pulled you in between her legs. you couldn’t help but blush at the touch. she couldn’t keep her hands to herself. not with you. you were as soft as she had imagined, and warm. so warm it was making it hard to hug you closer. and being high only made it worse.

“ellie…” you said, your eyes on the blunt in between her fingers.

“what is it pretty girl?” she muttered, putting away with a strand of your hair that had fallen on your face.

“can i… try it?” you muttered, eyes shiny and full of curiosity.

“you want to try smoking? you sure about that baby?” she made sure, and you nodded. “okay.” she smiled, and gently passed you the blunt. her hands were so warm it made your cheeks flush. you liked it. liked it when she kept you close. your stomach did funny things when she would touch you. “you need to inhale softly, alright, we don’t want you choking.” you nodded once again. slowly pulling it to your glossy and pink lips. you took a soft drag, making your throat burn. you felt the need to cough, but you waited it out, blowing out the smoke again. ellie’s smile grew. “there she is. atta girl.”

you squirmed at her praise, whole body running hot. you two shared the joint ‘till it burned out. taking soft drags that slowly became deeper and harsher. your mind was getting fuzzy, and your body was tingly. also ellie had started to draw little circles with her thumb on your thigh, caressing your skin. and you were shaking.

“how you feeling, baby?” your eyes were glassed over, and half lidded, rimmed in red.

“feels good els.” a silly smile crept up your face and she smiled as well.

“yeah?”

you nodded, snuggling into her chest. and ellie knew that jesse and dina would have probably teased her about how her whole face flushed red.

shit. she was in deep.

you loved it. how she made you feel. how your heart raced and your tummy filled with butterflies. but there was something else too, this throbbing in between your legs, this uncomfortable and warm feeling that had you squirming with every new pass of her thumb over your skin.

“you okay, pretty girl?” she inquired, taking notice of your little frown.

“hurts.” you muttered in a little hurt voice that had her heart shaking.

“hurts? where does it hurt baby?” she inquired, and your cheeks flushed. you hid your face on her chest and she cooed. “hey.” she took your chin in between her index and thumb to make you look at her. she almost cursed. your eyes were half-lidded and hazy, glossed over. your lips looked plushy and red, and your cheeks were flushed in crimson. “what is it?” she asked you again, this time harsher. there was something in her eyes that made you squeeze your thighs together. she saw it. “aw… baby…” she hummed and you whimpered. “does your little pussy hurt?” you nodded, flushing impossibly red.

“uh-huh…” you hiccuped. “every time you are around.” you said, and ellie almost choked. oh god. shit. fuck.

“every time i’m around? i leave you hurting every time i leave baby?” you nodded once again and she couldn’t help but curse under her breath. “want me to help you make it stop?” and one last time, you nodded. “okay. why don’t you help me take this off first, hm?” she inquired as her hands slowly made their way under your skirt —which had riled up your hips— and onto your beautiful little cotton panties. “that’s it, good girl.” she praised when you did, helping her push them down your thighs and legs, and you couldn’t help but whimper, cheeks burning, ‘cause it made the pain in your cunt worsen. “shh, it’s okay baby.” she hummed, her hand back to your thigh to caress your skin. “fuuuck. you’re so wet, angel.” she groaned when she took a glimpse at your panties and pussy, completely soaked. she just wanted to fucking ruin you with her strap, have that pussy of yours leaking on it and cumming over and over again. she wanted to ruin you. but she knew she couldn’t. not yet. you didn’t even know what being turned on was until now. she would scare the shit out of you. she had to take it slow… patience ellie. patience… “why don’t you choose one of your plushies out for me, hm?” she asked, and your eyes fell on your plushies. it was a quick response. you went for your favorite. mr hops. your little white beautiful bunny. “atta girl. now i want you to push it against your pussy baby.” she muttered against your neck, and you shivered. you blushed, even more when when ellie saw your shyness decided to cup your hand with hers to guide the plushie in between your legs. you couldn’t help but moan when the nose of the bunny bumped against your puffy little button. “that’s it.” she praised. “move it just like that baby.” she smirked when she saw how you unconsciously started to drag it up and down on your cunt, humping the plushy. your eyes were pricking with tears. ‘cause your whole body seemed to be exploding in pleasure, and it felt so good… her hand helping you with her movements, her voice praising you and calling you good girl every time you’d moan and whimper…

shit.

“ellie…” you whimpered, feeling pressure building up in your stomach. something felt about to snap. and you couldn’t stop moaning. it was as if you were reaching out for something you didn’t know what it was but needed.

“you gonna cum pretty girl? of course you are… such a good girl grinding her pretty cunt on her plushy. look at you. so fucking beautiful. let go for me baby, let go.” your vision went dark, and your ears rung. you couldn’t stop moaning and whimpering, your hips unconsciously rocking against mr hops to ride out your first ever orgasm. it was like nothing you’ve experienced before. it was like dying and coming back to life at the same time.

ellie groaned, holding you through it, your back arching against her chest as you fell apart. shit. she almost came on her own pants.

“that’s it, princess. now breath for me. you did amazing angel. so good for me.” she left a soft little peck on your forehead as she left soft rubs on one of your thighs. “good girl …”

after that night you had tried to take care of yourself like ellie had taught you. you’d hump your little bunny every night after she’d leave, trying to not make much noise so your flat mates on the other dorm rooms wouldn’t hear you. but you couldn’t make yourself cum anymore. not if she wasn’t there with you. you had started to wonder if instead of your plushy ellie would ever make you feel good too. touch you there.

one night, you were huffing, grinding down on your bunny unable to cum —like every other night—. every time you’d get close, the feeling would fade away and leave you tearing up and rolling in your bed without knowing how to make the ache go away.

that’s why, when you couldn’t take it anymore, you got up on your wobbly legs, you put back on your panties and pj shorts and went to her dorm. she opened after you left two knocks on her door.

ellie’s face completely changed when she saw the tears falling down your cheeks.

“woah, hey, hey…” she cooed when you jumped to her arms. “you okay sweet girl? what happened?” you hiccuped and held you closer to her chest.

“ellie please help me…” you whimpered and she pulled you into her dorm, closing the door.

“what is it baby? what’s wrong?” she rubbed your back as you squirmed.

“i can’t… i can’t make myself feel good anymore like you taught me. it hurts…” you cried.

“aw, baby… you can’t make your pretty little pussy cum, hm?” she cooed, and you nodded. “mr hops can’t make you feel good anymore?” your heart skipped a beat at her soft teasing.

“stop teasing me… it’s mean.” you pouted, and she falsely frowned and mimicked you.

“am i being mean to you baby?” she continued on her teasing. you nodded and she cooed. “you poor thing…” her thumb pulled from the pout on your face, pressing against your bottom lip.

your heart seemed to skip a beat, her touch sending shivers down your spine.

“my poor pretty little thing.” you blushed. “aren’t you sweetheart?” your stomach jumped, her voice low and silky. it was making you feel silly.

“don’t do that…” you shyly muttered and she smirked.

“do what?”

“talk to me like that. it’s making my stomach feel all funny.” you sighed, feeling your face and neck burning up.

“your stomach?” you hummed. “is it a bad funny or a good funny?” she stepped just the littlest bit closer. and that feeling went south from your stomach, down and down and down and… you gasped a little bit when her free hand took a hold on your hip. she wasn’t even touching you and yet you felt like melting under her fingertips.

“good.” ellie’s fingers squeezed your hip. she hummed, low, and you almost trembled.

“does it feel good too if i do this?” she inquired as she leant closer, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek. you nodded. “and this?” another one to your jaw. her face didn’t pull away, her lips trailing lower when you nodded once again. you let out a little whine when she kissed over your pulse, your head tilting to give her more room. it felt too good. m

“feels good els…” you muttered and she almost groaned. fuck. your voice was airy, and so needy…

“you know… there are places where it feels even better.” she said, and your eyes shined with curiosity.

“yeah?” you breathily inquired and she hummed.

“want me to show you?” you nodded, and she smiled before leading you to your bed, where you two sat. “baby, have someone ever given you a kiss?” you frowned, but before you could talk she was getting the doubt out of your head. “on your lips honey.”

you blushed. so much you swore you’d actually burst in flames. you looked into her eyes and then away as you shook your head. ellie’s chest felt lighter. no one had ever kissed you before. fuck.

“want me to give you one?” your eyes went back at hers, and then fell to her lips. they were so pretty it hurt. and you knew they were soft. you’d seen people kiss before. obviously. but you had always been too shy to even think about receiving one. and now ellie was offering to kiss you. for the first time in your life. and your heart was going crazy. breathing was getting harder. you nodded again. “nuh-uh, speak up pretty girl.” you were burning up.

“i want it.” you begged, and her cunt throbbed. shiiiiit. she had thought about this before. you begging for her to fuck you, to let you cum all over her fingers. even dreamed about it. but it would never compare to the actual you.

“good girl.” she said, and your thighs shook. there was wet sticky slick pooling in between your legs and making a mess of your thighs. and the throbbing of your needy pussy was making you ache. it hurt. even more when she called you that. you whimpered when you finally felt her lips against yours. ellie groaned when she heard you, pulling you closer. at first she didn’t move her lips, after a couple of seconds slowly starting to guide you into the kiss. your hands fisted her shirt, and your eyes squeezed closed. it was a strange feeling. but it felt good. too good. “open your mouth for me, baby.” you followed her orders, a little and muffled moan leaving your lips when her tongue pushed inside. one of her hands cupped your cheek, deepening the kiss. you were going for more when she pulled away. fuck. ellie was dying. she was finally kissing you. and you felt amazing. “shhh.” she stopped you, and your hazy eyes met hers.

“ellie… please.” you tugged her close.

“you want more, pretty girl?” she inquired, and you nodded, once shaking parting your lips for her. this time the kiss was deeper, if it could get any more than before, wet strokes of her tongue filling your mouth. you were being laid down on her bed, hair all over her pillows and thighs open for her.

you were letting out the most beautiful sounds, and she was getting way too horny.

“fuck. you don’t know what you do to me.” she groaned, eyes taking you in, you and your swollen glossy lips and hazy reddened teary eyes. you were flushed red, and your breath was hot.

“feels good.” you muttered, shaking under her touch, her hands now touching your hips from under your shirt.

“yeah?” you hummed. “well… there’s another place were kisses feel even better.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” she smiled, one of her hands traveling downwards. passing your belly button and down to your shorts. “right here.” you gasped when you felt her hand softly cupping your cunt over your peeking pretty cotton panties, making your eyes squeeze shit when you grinned down on her hand, seeking relief. you were soaked. “fuck baby…”

you hiccuped. “it hurts.” you pouted. you were throbbing.

“i know baby, i know…” she cooed, and you nodded. “want me to make the pain go away? want me to kiss it better for you, hm?” your cheeks flushed red. ellie wanted to kiss you there. you nodded, quickly, shyly, and she couldn’t help but groan when you whispered a little ‘yes please ellie.’ she was sucking marks down your neck as her hands pulled from your pj and underwear, making you gasp as the cold air of the room hit your drooling pussy. “fuck, angel. you’re so wet…” she said as she took a glance of the string of slick that connected your cunt to your underwear. soon enough, her thumbs were parting your lips to take a better look at you, and you were covering your face, ‘cause ellie was looking at you as if you were a fucking meal and she was starving. your back arched when you felt it. the long and torturously slow drag of her tongue thought your folds, lapping at your arousal.

“ellie!” you screamed, a moan ripping your throat. she left a little kiss to your clit before sucking it, making you whimper and gasp for air, your hands flying up to her hair and making her grunt against your cunt. she pulled you closer to her face, pulling your thighs over her shoulders and laying one of her hands down on your lower stomach to keep you pressed against the bed and still for her to devour. she had been dreaming about this for months. and knowing that no one has ever had you like this. never kissed you, or touched you, or made you moan expect her had her soaking her boxers and eating you out with need.

you couldn’t stop moaning, and whining, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you gasped. ellie was telling the truth, it felt so much better than kissing. your thighs were shaking and your pussy was leaking on her tongue. it was the first time you’d ever felt this euphoria… this kind of pleasure…

and then you felt it. her tongue pushing inside of you, stretching you out. it was a new feeling. you had never felt anything like it. you’d never touched yourself. always too shy to even try, to oblivious to know the reason why your pussy would throb around the emerald eyed. and now ellie was helping you get rid of that aching feeling that tortured you every night, and you were falling apart.

“that’s it… pussy so sweet and wet…” she said, one of her fingers teasing the rim of your hole, pushing in just the slightest. you let out a scream when her middle finger pushed inside, your vision filling of colors and spots when she hit a spot deep inside as she curled it, making you sob and moan, tugging from her hair. “you sound so good. shit, angel. can’t wait to have you falling apart, creaming all over my fingers.” you didn’t know what she meant by that, but her finger was fucking into you, and you couldn’t even think.

she sucked on your puffy clit, slowly fucking in and out of you and relishing in the wet sounds that your pussy was making for her, adding another finger when she had stretched you out enough. they filled you to the brim, and so good you were choking. “ellie, ellie, ellie…” you moaned over and over again as she started to quickly curl her fingers against your g spot, making the knot growing on your stomach tighten. “ellie, i’m…, i’m…”

“you’re gonna cum, sweet girl? gonna cum all over my face?” you nodded, feeling that warmth bubbling up in your stomach, about to snap. “go ahead baby, let go for me.” your back arched as you gushed all over her fingers and lips, and she fucked you through it, humming at the taste, lapping at you like a starved women. she cleaned you up, not leaving a single drop of your come behind, helping you ride it out until you were whimpering due to overstimulation. she lapped at your sweet and sticky cum, licking clean your pushy and her fingers as she popped them inside her mouth, moaning. her chin and lips were shining, and she had this hazy look in her eyes that made your heart jump.

you opened your mouth for her when she kissed you, whimpering at the taste of your own arousal.

now that you had felt ellie’s tongue and fingers on you for the first time, you understood what those girls in your class meant by how good her fingers could make them feel…

her mouth was good too. too good. and you couldn’t stop starting at it, and her lips… and her hands. god. now you too wanted to know if they’d feel good around your…

“you’re staring pretty girl.” she smirked, and you looked away with your cheeks burning up. she chuckled, cupping your cheek to make you look at her. “nuh-uh. don’t hide from me. what is it, hm?” you looked into her emerald eyes, her thumb on your bottom lip. you shook your head, burning up. “you’re not gonna tell me?” you shook your head once again. “that’s mean angel, i want to know what’s going on inside that pretty little head of yours.” you saw her lean in. “you’re gonna make me have to get it out of you?” you shivered when you felt her breath hit your jaw, and then your neck, lips soft against your skin.

you sighed, your hands gripping her shoulders as she started to tug from your shirt, your nipples hard due to your arousal as she pushed it over your head, leaving you completely exposed to her hungry eyes.

“ellie…” you whimpered when her mouth latched to your breast, sucking the bud into her mouth and leaving marks on them. and she tugged you closer, making you fall on one of her legs, the denim of her trousers meeting your cunt.

her hands landed on your ass, grinding you down on her leg and making you moan. you felt embarrassed to speak up. completely caught in the feeling of her touch.

“come on baby. speak up.” she smirked, seeing you desperately grinding down on her thigh.

“want you ellie… want you.” you whimpered, and she hummed, sucking hickeys on your neck.

“you want me pretty girl? want me to stretch your little pussy on my cock? bet you’d look so cute riding my strap for me, cumming over and over again.“ you let out a needy moan. nodding.

“yes please, want it ellie, want it…” you begged.

“lay down and open your legs for me, baby.” she said, giving you a deep kiss before leaving you in the bed to go get her black strap-on. you were flushing red, and fidgety. and your eyes widened when she got back. ‘cause that was too big. her fingers had made you feel so full already… you couldn’t imagine how that would make you feel.

you squirmed when she was back in between your legs after having discarded her jeans and own shirt, leaving her in her boxers and sports bra. you were flushing and trying to not look at her, ‘cause she looked so hot it was impossible to take. she had abs, and such a pretty waist… her thighs were strong and big, and you couldn’t help but wish to be on top of her once again riding them, this time without her jeans on the way.

“look at me angel, let me see you.” she muttered, and your eyes were back on hers. “you’re so fucking beautiful.” your cheeks were red, and your thighs were trembling under her hands. a moan left your lips when she leaned down to kiss you. her tongue pushing into your mouth and you melted, feeling her body slot in between your legs and the plastic of her strap hit your naked soaking pussy. your hips pushed against it, and she thrusted against you, making the tip bump against your clit. your back arched, and your nails dug on her shoulders.

“please, ellie… please…” you cried out. needing more.

“what is it baby? what do you want?” you were throbbing, crying at her teasing, feeling the tip sliding in between your folds and hitching at your needy hole. “speak up. want you to tell me what you need.”

“need it inside…” you begged, your voice desperate and broken, completely eaten alive by your embarrassment.

“atta girl. that wasn’t so hard, was it?” the breath hit punched out of your lungs when she pushed in, your slick making it easy to slide in the tip. she went slow. “good girls get what they want.” you whimpered, feeling your pussy stretch to take her inside. it hurt. but it hurt so good you couldn’t help but buck your hips up for more. “aw, want more darling? want more of my dick? so greedy…” she smirked, seeing your eyes roll to the back of your head when she pushed all of it inside in one go, hitting your cervix. your back arched, and her mouth was sucking bruises on your neck and chest, making you see stars. “that’s it. atta girl. taking me so good…” she groaned, the strap brushing her own clit over her panties. “good girl baby, being so good for me…” tears were spilling from your eyes from the pleasure. her praise making you tighten around the strap and sucking it right back in harder when she tried and pull out to thrust inside. “so fucking tight, shit…” she cursed, and you whimpered, feeling the tip brush that spot that had you babbling out.

her hips slowly started to pick up pace, until she was properly fucking you, wet squelches coming from your cunt, which was impossibly wet. the strap slid easily i between your walls, and rubbed ellie just were she ached the most. you two were a mess of kisses, moans and hands everywhere. your hips fucked against hers, trying to beg for more.

“ellie, ellie please…”

she groaned at your need. “you’re driving me insane.” her hips snapped harder against yours, her cock plunging inside of you deeper and harsher, making it impossible to not scream. and she shut you up the only way she knew how.

your sight went white when you felt it. the hot grip of her hand around your throat. and ellie couldn’t help but groan when you were gushing on her strap, letting out little broken moans that got cut off with every harsh thrust.

“fuck. this is what you wanted, baby? wanted my hand on your neck, hm? my poor little thing just wanted to be choked.” you moaned, your nails digging on her back as she started to piston inside of you, making your orgasm grow and grow…

“ellie! ellie stop, something’s gonna come out, something’s gonna…!” you screamed as the pressure on your lower stomach grew and warmth liquid spread all over your thighs, soaking the strap and the sheets under you. your body was being filled in pleasure. you were falling and falling and falling. you were choking on it. there was no end.

ellie grunted and fucked you through it, reaching her own orgasm when she saw you squirt all over her cock. her cum had completely soaked her boxers by the time she had stopped rutting into you, the two of you panting for air.

and even with your hair made a complete mess, your eyes red with tears and your lips swollen by your kisses… you looked like an angel.

a/n; 🫨😵‍💫

ellie williams masterlist! <3

xxx

4K notes · View notes

llamagoddessofficial · 19 days

Note

How would the bad sanses take care of mc when they're sick?

If you don't want anyone to bother you, Horror is the one to go for. He'll carry you everywhere with him, tucked against his chest, so wrapped up in blankets you're almost invisible. Cough once if you want a drink, twice if you want food. Does he consider the other Bad Guys friends, and perhaps even pseudo-family? Yes (not that he'll admit that). But no matter how much he likes them, they're just as violent as he is, and inside his instinct-drenched mind that makes them potential threats while you're sick. You can snuggle up and nap in total peace.

Dust is... tender. It seemingly comes out of nowhere. He's very affectionate when you're ill, much more than usual. You half expected him to just completely clear off when you got unwell but when you're at your weakest he's there, gently touching your forehead and talking to you. Talking. His voice is so soft, it's a real comfort. Dust does all those little things that mean so much when you don't have the strength... the glass of water by your bed is always full, the sheets on the bed are always fresh. He turns your pillow over for you if you don't have the strength, so you can lay on the cold side. And when you weakly stick your arms out for a hug, he always hugs.

Killer's speciality is making you feel better through distraction. Bags of treats and junk food, hot chocolate, videogames and your favourite books piled around you. You feel shit, right? Why not completely indulge? He wears his dirtiest and oldest clothes so you don't feel bad about being unwashed. He'll keep you company for hours, abandoning his plans to stay with you, distracting you with jokes and time-filler until you slowly start to recover. Who needs medicine, when you've got this little shit determined to make you feel better?

Nightmare seems so tough. So sharp. So no-nonsense.

... But he's a total softie when you're unwell. Something about how cute you look, combined with the pleasant cocktail of negativity constantly emanating from you... you can ask literally anything of him, and he'll do it. You want boba at 3 in the morning? He'll go get you boba. You wanna get carried around like a princess? Anything for you. He has a stern face the whole time, but he immediately bends to even the smallest request. Who would've guessed that being ill was all it took to have the king of negativity turn into putty?

#llamagines

416 notes · View notes

mooishbeam · 9 months

Text

『♡』 Extra Credit

♡ featuring: gojo & geto x f!reader

♡ summary: class is getting too hard for you, so you seek help. unfortunately, the help you receive is not what you expected. wc: 2.8k+

♡ cw/tw: manipulation, praise, light degradation, throat-fucking, edging, threesome, spit roasting, rough sex, pretty mean gojo, cum play

notes: helloo! a slightly shorter one this time. hope u like :) my first jjk fic!! art by _3aem on twitter <3

You twiddle your sparkly pen with your fingers and eye the blank page. Chemistry-201 started an hour ago, and you’ve got nothing to show for it. Truthfully, you were exhausted thinking about having to attend. College was easy for the most part, even calculus. You couldn’t tell anyone the reality behind your performance block in this specific class. The excuse your friends heard was, “The slides are hard to read.” They were hard to read, but they’d probably be clearer if you actually looked at them. What you did like to look at, were the boys who sat two rows in front of you in lecture hall. The one with frosty hair would whisper through the entirety of class, while the quiet one diligently wrote down organized notes. That’s how you picked up their names:

“Quiet, Gojo.” he snapped, tapping the paper with his pencil as if Gojo would catch the hint. He smiled and poked his temple. “Chill Geto, the best doesn’t need to study.”

Geto sighs and waves his hand. “Not everything is about you.”

“Why not?”

Geto and Gojo you thought. Their names were sweet on your tongue. You squeezed your thighs together, imagining how their names would sound on your lips. On rare occasions, Geto would face your direction. Even though it wasn’t for you, it felt special, like you were the only person in the room. You wanted someone as hardworking and kind as him to notice you. Sometimes you’d catch yourself sketching the back of his head, promptly shredding the page after the bell. What started to unnerve you was Gojo, who was always aware of your shy glances even when his back was turned. His crystalline azure eyes bore into yours and you’d fumble for anything to look at. Even when you daydreamed dirty scenarios, he reads your mind. It made you feel guilty. When your professor dismissed you, you’d scattered up the steps, bag already packed. This strategy was efficient until the day you dropped your book walking out of class. Pale slender hands grabbed it before you could reach it. “Ah! Thank you-” You met eyes with Gojo, smiling above you like reborn divinity. You almost felt the urge to bow. “Gotta be careful, yeah? This shit's expensive.” You nodded another thank you and took the book, hasting away so he couldn’t see your flustered face.

All these minor incidents accumulated into the major issue currently surfacing; you are on the cusp of failing. Your parents readily applauded the other classes, perfect A’s. Just visualizing the scenario where you show them a D sends you into grief. You vow to change this outcome today. Your final exam is in a month and a half, enough space to master important subjects. No distractions, no Geto and Gojo. You meet with student resources after Chemistry to inquire about your study options and settle on weekly tutoring. You’re determined and prepared to give your all for this exam.

Next week arrives and you're full of vigor. You try your best to rationalize each problem, no matter how wrong you are; and you were very wrong, frequently. You’re mentally apologizing in advance to your tutor. You see Geto and Gojo quietly bickering. Gojo has long pretty eyelashes, and you can’t stop glancing at them. They swiftly point to you. Nothing unusual, until—for the first time—Geto turns to you. His eyes are fixated solely on you. You're startled and knock over your water bottle, pouring it all over your notebook. A domino effect ensues. The valuable notes you took smear from the liquid, and it drips from the table onto your mini skirt. You stand to dodge it but your open bag tips over and out the chair, spilling the contents all over the floor. The room is silent, and everyone in your vicinity is staring. Time stops as you gather your stuff and leave the hall to dry yourself. You’re in the bathroom now, dying from embarrassment as your brain recalls the moment repeatedly. The sly smirk on Gojo’s face. I have to get over this you thought. Your session is in an hour, and you don’t want to waste crucial experience. Surely it can’t get worse than this.

You show up five minutes early and patiently wait for their arrival. Fortunately, you’re afforded a closed off workspace with the tutor. You draw dainty flowers in your book until the door creaks open. To your surprise, you see tidy black hair and chiseled features. It’s Geto. Your personal tutor is Geto. The stars must’ve aligned to dispatch one horrific cataclysm. You contemplate what you could’ve done to the gods for them to punish you so harshly. He pretends that he’s never seen you. “(Y/N), right? My name is Geto, I’ll be tutoring you for the rest of the semester.” His professionalism makes you breathe easier, and you’re relieved, content with maintaining this attitude. Together you set up your notes and the first 15 minutes go without a hitch, simply reviewing the topics you grapple with.

“A lot of these are early concepts. They’re used in basically every class. Forgive me if this offends you, but how do you not know these?”

“Ah, I get a bit distracted.”

“By what?”

“Oh… um.” You shift your thighs back and forth, pondering a justifiable answer, oblivious to the way Geto ogles them. "I just have a hard time focusing.”

He scans your tight fitted shirt, then your lips. “I see.” Suddenly, the door swings open. Bright orbs piercing you, capturing you. You drop your head, hoping he won’t recognize you from the scalp.

“Yo Geto, look at this game I- oops.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to barge in while I’m tutoring?”

“Haha, sorry ‘bout that…wait, I know you!” He exclaims. Gojo snatches a chair and sits so you’re sandwiched between them. Intently skimming the textbook as if you didn’t hear him, he grabs your cheeks and twists you to him.

“You’re the girl that wet herself today, right?” He laughs.

“C’mon, she's dealt with enough already.” Your wishful thinking fell on deaf ears; they clearly didn’t forget that easily.

“Heh, it’s too funny though. Geto, I told you about her remember? She’s always looking at us in class.” he teases. You felt a shiver go up your spine and your face get hotter. “That isn’t-”

“Shh” Gojo interrupts you. “Tell me, are we more handsome now that you have a closer look?” Your heart drops to your stomach and you stumble over your words.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t mean to look. If I made you uncomfortable, I’m deeply sorry.”

“Nah, it’s cool. I like the shy type.”

“I think I should go.” You try to rise, but Geto pulls you from your skirt. If they wanted you, they would have you. "I didn’t permit you to leave. Sit. We'll continue.”

“I don’t know if I should-”

“Are you disrespecting the time I’m putting in to ensure you end with a decent grade?” he questioned. You went meek, reconsidering the effort you’d be wasting, and how badly you wanted Geto to acknowledge that effort.

“No. I’ll do it.” His smile is saccharine and alluring, masking the dark intentions pulling at his conscious.

“Great. Next chapter.”

You’re eight paragraphs in, a sheer glistening sweat on your legs. You can barely mouth the words. Gojo’s breath is painfully close to your ear, tickling it as he follows along the page, his thumb running under the hem of your thigh high socks. “You wore these for me, yeah?” he whispers. You clamp your thighs, and a scheming grin creeps up his face. Meanwhile Geto’s fingers are behind your neck, brushing it gently with his other hand steady on top of yours. The bare skin contact is disorienting, so much so that you hadn’t noticed you’ve read the same sentence for the past minutes.

“(Y/N)?” You snap out of an affectionate trance. “Huh?”

“Is something troubling you?” His nose is inches away from yours, taunting you.

“Mm, no.” Your trembling voice exposes the truth. “You seem frustrated. Do you need help alleviating that frustration?” Such a straightforward question is nerve-wracking. You've only imagined this in your dreams, calling out both of their names. The scandal that unfolds if people find out would be reputation-shattering for you. But desire burning in your dampening core blanketed those worries. “I don’t know what to say.”

“(Y/N), when someone offers you something, you should accept it and say thank you” Gojo adds. His hand slides deeper in your socks, groping the plush fat.

“Do you want it, yes or no?” The decision tosses in your mind. Until you finally manage a soft-spoken “yes.” Instantly, the air in the room switches, their gaze encapsulating you like prey. You feel smaller.

“This won’t be easy, though. I’m teaching you concentration. If you get through this quiz with us touching you, I’ll reward you. Understand?” Geto says. You nod at him like a lost puppy, ready to please him.

The quiz starts with ten entry-level questions. You get to work, and they get to devour you. Gojo parts your legs, salivating from the strings of slick sticking to your underwear and inner thighs. He litters kisses and lustful bruises along your neck, his hands trailing to your chest. Geto’s hands hike your skirt up and move to your underwear, circling the erect nub through the fabric. You’re on question three and can hardly achieve a scribble. He pulls your panties to the side and spreads your folds, toying with the mess. You have a loose hold on his shirt that tightens whenever he presses on the bundle of nerves. His fingers are skillful, knowing the right buttons to push to coax whimpers out of you. Meanwhile, Gojo tugs your shirt up, exposing your nipples to the cool air. He flicks one with his tongue, then envelopes your breast in his warm wet mouth. He sucks and bites the bud, tasting it and fondling the other. He moans, light pops as he comes up, gazing into you for approval. The walls are thin, you can’t get caught, but you need them deeper. They make you fall apart just to punish you, a sharp sting from Geto’s palm directly on your clit.

“If you can’t keep your voice down, I’m gonna stop. Are you sure you can handle it?” Geto teases. He definitely isn't stopping, but your panicked, yearning expression made his cock twitch.

“Yes! I’m sorry, I can be quiet.”

“I don’t know, you seem to be struggling. You wanna make me proud, right?” You nodded frantically.

He places a gentle, almost manipulative kiss on your lips. “Good girl. Then you’ll take everything I give you.” His digits glide vertically on your vulva until they slip inside, scissoring and massaging your g-spot. You somehow make it to question 6, but your mushy thoughts aren’t sure if they can recover from the rhythmic pumping and juices running down his knuckles. Gojo releases you for air, bite indentations dotting your mounds. “Geto. Switch?”

“Okay.” He says and begrudgingly drags his fingers out. You whine from the emptiness, but Gojo quickly replaces him. He gets under the table on his knees and forces your legs wider, appreciating the upcoming feast. His pink muscle licks a long harsh strip against you. The new sensation makes your back arch, and your hand cards through his hair.

“Too sensitive? Aww.” He moves roughly, slurping and lapping up everything he can get his mouth on. His grasp is tight, even with all your strength pushing him off is a challenge. Question nine passed, still shaking and stuttering. Geto pinches and twist your nipples but showers the pain with loving kisses. He pecks the back of your neck. You’re so close you start to involuntarily buck your hips. Gojo stops immediately, grinning at your frustrated cries, your essence covering his jaw and chin. “Don’t come yet, wanna feel you.”

“One more question, baby.” Geto says, caressing the swollen marks. You put your heart into finishing the last problem, an unintelligible number for your response. You can’t decipher the words; all you want is Geto’s praise. He takes the pencil out of your hand and counts the correct solutions.

“8 out of 10. I’m so proud of you, angel.” None of your answers were right. But he relished how effortless it was to make you happy, how much you starved for his attention. He searched to lock you away where no one could find you. You’re beaming nevertheless, smothered by his kindness.

“C’mere. Taste yourself.” Gojo husks before French kissing you, tongues intertwined. He moans into your mouth. “Want your reward now?”

“Please” you rasped, and he picks you up, pressing your stomach flat on the desk. Geto wraps around in front of you. He pulls his throbbing cock out and lifts your chin, propping it on your lips. “Open.” he coos. You loll your tongue out, looking up at him expectingly. He smiles and drives his length into you until your nose is flush with his pubes. His cockhead is deep in your throat, it burns, but you’re the center of his world in this moment and it makes it worth the ache. You worship it, savor him. Hollowing out your cheeks, you start bobbing your head. You drool on his balls, gently sucking them and tracing his veins with your tongue. His moans are breathy and deep, hand firm on the back of your head to prevent you from bailing. He denies your pleas for air.

Gojo taps his leaking tip against your clit a few times and slides himself in, whimpering from the soaking grip molding to his shaft. “A-ah, so tight.” he choked. His balls collide with your ass, and your orgasm hits hard. You tremble, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as you try to ride it out. But Gojo doesn’t let you and jerks your arms behind you with one hand. He pounds deep and fast, noisy plaps and squelching fervor pushing your limits; at the same time, Geto is face-fucking you. You were sure students heard the commotion by now. The men ravaging you sent a trail of fire crawling up your body. Tears smear on your face, gagging spit drips from your bottom lip, a mixture of fluids soak your socks, but your fuzzy senses can only drown in their pleasure. The spring coiling in your body is quick. Gojo’s tip kisses your g-spot perfectly and you embrace him. “Hey, you on the pill?” he asks. You're about to answer but he shoves your head down to Geto’s hilt. “Never mind, I don’t care.”

Geto’s movements quicken. Your disheveled face sends him over the edge. He blesses you with his creamy hot gift, spurting inside your gullet, accompanied by guttural sighs. “Swallow all of it.” You struggle but slowly get it down. You polish off the rest of his twitching length in revere and open your mouth for proof. “That’s my good girl.” He pats your head, and you lean into the warmth. Waiting for his confirmation.

“You wanna come? I’ll let you come, baby.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, you do it when I tell you to.” Gojo snaps. Tears prickled your lashes from overstimulation. Your whimpers stream out the room and he laughs through breathy whines. “Little pervert. You want people to hear you getting railed?”

“It's t’much! Gojo I can’t-”

Geto cradles your jaw. “(Y/N). Ask him for permission.” He is suddenly stern, and you obey him.

“Please lemme come!” you babble. His concern is clouded with sin.

“Yeah? Beg for it.” An orchestra of please’s sing, and you mean it, but Gojo didn’t care. He’d much rather watch your rippling ass and melting figure. Each thrust has you incoherent, and you plead more, enough to satisfy his smug demeanor.

“That’s better. Now come for me, all over my cock.” His command splinters, and your gushy walls convulse to form a white ring around the base. Gojo’s strokes get desperate as he approaches his release from your slippery heat. He pulls out and holds you in place, a few pumps before he shoots ropes across your ass and paints your vulva. “Yeah- you’re so fucking good.” he moans, mumbling and quivering through his orgasm.

They get dressed while you lie on the desk. You’re breathless and trembling, but they’re focused on cleaning themselves up. Gojo gets eye level with you.

“If you tell anyone, you know I’ll ruin your life, right? Keep it hush.” You can’t speak. He grabs your panties off the floor and pockets them. “These are cute. Imma keep it.” Geto reties his hair and smiles at you. “See you later.”

They abandon you, covered in come and items strewn across the table. You’re left to wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. One thing was undeniable, however; you were really looking forward to next week.

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