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gojonanami · 11 months ago

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❝ 𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 ❞

❝ PROF. GETO'S CLASS IS SO HARD, BUT HE'S SO HOT!! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part one of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: you were a 4.0, straight A student, until professor geto's class, the same far too hot ethics professor fawned over by faculty and students alike. you didn't understand what was so special about him...until you start having dreams about him.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (mostly fantasy), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student in my mind, but age is vague, masturbation (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), getting off to his voice in recorded lectures, arousal from reading his writing, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, art by @/jatinsohanvi, google scholar graphic by platonic loml @laneysmusings

✧ wc: 10,149 (i have a problem) | part two

“You’re late,”

Your first impression of Professor Suguru Geto’s class was that you could never be late again, unless you would like to be chided in front of all your peers for your tardiness.

Your first impression of Professor Suguru Geto himself was that he was truly the most breathtaking man you’d ever laid your eyes on. His inky black locks tied into a neat bun, his deep royal purple vest buttoned over a crisp white button up with pressed gray slacks, his pretty lips pressed in a small frown, as his dark gaze pierced through you. And you don’t know what stirs in your chest — a fleeting moment that is tucked away under a bite of your bottom lip and burning cheeks.

And now you knew why when you had walked into class, the amount of unfamiliar faces in this course had far outnumbered the ones in your usual course load — the same reason why this man undoubtedly had three chili peppers next to his professor rating on some website out there.

And now you were faced with him staring you down as you stumbled down the stairs of the all too full lecture hall.

As you muttered apologies, and took your seat far too close to the front of the class, smack dab in the very front of the very same professor whose eyes still were concentrated on you, before sliding back to the class at large.

“Now, where were we?” he says, continuing the lecture.

Ethics was not your major — you were a philosophy grad student, and although the two went hand in hand — no, they were not the same thing. Ethics are the moral principles — like rules to follow to live a moral life — people can follow, while philosophy is the study of knowledge, reality, and existence. And this class encompassed both — an ethics and moral philosophy class. Your eyes slid around the room — and compared to all the random majors stuffed into this classroom, you had no doubt you’d do well. Your eyes met Professor Geto’s — maybe one slight doubt.

And when you get your first essay back, you eagerly flip to the last page of the paper, wondering what accolades and compliments you’d receive this time. Your eyes find the grade, and your stomach drops, a gaping maw that consumes you from the inside out.

You got a B.

A B+ — an 88 on your paper in this course, and you stared at the grade on the very last page of the paper you had collected from his desk — Professor Geto had insisted everyone submit their papers both physically and electronically — his scrawl in red pen littered each page of what you thought was a thoughtful and even clever paper on the existence free will and the ethical and moral dilemmas that surround it. And he had given it an 88.

You had a 4.0 point average — you had gotten the highest scores in some of the most difficult courses required by your major, and now you were going to be derailed by a class you took on a whim? That’s not happening. No, you were going to get him to change your grade. You were seeing as red as the ink that tore your paper to shreds.

“Come in,” your knuckles had rapped against Professor Geto’s door, your heart in your throat, as you heard his reply, entering his office. His office was as pretentious as he was. A much larger office than you had seen before (poor Professor Ijichi had a shoebox of an office), while Professor Geto’s was three times the size, outfitted with large, beautiful windows, distinct bookshelves, and even a lovely deep mahogany colored couch with decorative cushions. And you knew why that was the case — Professor Geto was an expert in his field, revered, even at his relatively young age. And the university had coveted him, and managed to lure him to work behind these ivy covered walls. While other professors who have been here longer are stuck with offices that don’t begin to compare.

Academia was truly hell.

And yet, Professor Geto seemed to rule over it with an iron fist. Even now, you found your professor looking as annoyingly perfect as ever — his elbow resting against his desk, pen in his other hand, as he flipped through more papers on his desk, his hair in a messy bun, a few black strands falling across his furrowed brow, his pretty lips pursed in concentration, and his dark gaze flicks up from his work to you, and his lips curl, your name leaving his lips, “good to see you, please sit,”

You had planned to attend these office hours in victory, to apologize for your misstep in the first class, and let your professor praise your paper to no end — but instead you were going to see why your paper was graded so harshly.

Your speech was ready, you were going to lay it out, you had the perfect explanation and the excellent reasoning “Professor Geto—”

“I know why you’re here,” he cuts you off, lips forming in an utterly condescending smile, “you want to discuss your paper, correct?”

“I am, I wanted to—”

He sits forward in his chair, setting down his pen, “I’m going to save us some time by explaining my comments on your paper, do you have it?” and you close your mouth, pulling the paper out of your folder and handing it to him, “Your paper was one of the best in the class �� it was thought provoking, grounded in research, persuasive, even made me consider some points I hadn’t before—”

You blink, his praise catching you off guard, your thoughts twisting in on themselves, “Then why did you give me B?”

“You didn’t allow me to finish,” he sighs, as he flips through your paper, looking up to meet your gaze, “your paper was excellent when it came to philosophical concepts, but your ethical conclusions on the other hand, could use some work,”

You gaped at him, “What did I possibly—”

“To put it simply, you were trying to use your knowledge of philosophy to cover up your lack of knowledge in the field of ethics,”

“I wasn’t—”

“And that’s okay, because that means I have something to teach you don’t I? That’s why you’re in this course, to learn,” he gives a tight lipped smile, tilting his head. Oh you’d like to learn a lot more from him — like the ethical dilemma of wanting to murder your professor, “and I’m here to teach — and this paper is a teaching moment — and from your expression, I assume you didn’t read the comments I left in detail,”

And your cheeks burn, as your eyes fall away from him, “Not fully in detail,” you still swallow your shame, and meet his gaze, “I don’t mean to be a bother, Professor, but how can my paper still receive a B — I’ve never received that low of a score on any single paper—”

“There’s a first time for everything,” and you have to bite back your retort, “yeah first time having an annoying prick for a professor,” and he rises from his desk to hand you back your paper, “the bottom line is, I know you’re capable of better, this class isn’t going to be easy — I’m not going to hand you accolades for no reason. You have to earn them — if you aren’t up for the challenge, you can drop the class.”

The option was there — you could simply drop the course, rid yourself of Professor Geto and his ridiculous criticism forever. You could take a class with one of the many professors who delighted in your papers (even the ones you’d written at 3 AM and submitted not proofread), and go on with your life and preserve your 4.0 GPA with ease.

But then you looked at him again. He was unfairly hot, even when he was fucking putting you down, he stood in front of you, offering your paper, his fingers long and thick brushing yours by mistake as you took back your paper, a watch on his wrist gleamed in the low light of his office. You glanced around his office, saw the awards on his walls, pictures of him giving lectures or receiving honors, and the books that lined his shelves weren’t dissimilar to your own academic shelf at home. And your eyes fell back to his, as he stared at you curiously, lips pursed, as your paper slightly crumples in your fist.

“Next paper is due in two weeks?” and he pauses, before his lips curl in that same grin.

“Yes it is,” and a smile graces your lips, lightning quick.

Like hell you were going to let him win. You were going to get him to praise your papers (and maybe that wouldn’t be the only thing he praised) — if it was the last thing you do. You’d get an A in his class, hell, you’d get him to beg you to be his teaching assistant (he’d look very nice on his knees for you, wouldn’t he?).

You rise from your seat, and grab your bag, “I’ll see you at your next office hours then, to discuss my paper topic,” and he watches you leave, his eyes piercing into your back as you do.

“See you soon.”

Oh, he would.

“Right on time,” Professor Geto barely looks up now when you knock on his door, his door now always ajar for office hours.

Now you had made a habit of showing up for his office hours, you’d bring your paper topic all picked out, along with your handpicked sources you had chosen for your paper, all typed up in a neat bibliography. And he’d kindly rip it apart with that same damn smile on his lips. It had been a few weeks, a few papers later — and you finally had worked your grade up to an A-, not quite an A+, but you’d get there. You had to.

Because it wasn’t just about your GPA now — you were going to get Professor Geto to praise you — through any means necessary. The man was stubborn, even when you’d come back with an improved draft, he’d only hand it back to you with a smile barely tugging at the corner of his lips, with no compliment to be had — only small check marks scribbled in the margins in your papers, with the occasional “good” written next to it.

“Well, we all know what happens when I’m late,” he laughs, a noise that makes the ice dagger clutched behind your back ever so slightly melt, “I made you laugh, extra credit?”

And he rolls his eyes, and you notice that his dark eyes are hidden behind glasses today — and god, why does it only make him even more gorgeous? He’s already brilliant, it’s unfair for him to look as if he was sculpted by the gods as well, “It takes a lot more than a chuckle to earn extra credit,” and you can’t help but bite your lip.

No, no, he’s the worst. It didn’t matter he was the epitome of every academic’s wet dream, you were above that. You had a goal.

“So, can we discuss my next paper?” you hand him your bibliography, and he takes it, delicate fingers flipping through, your mind notes the absence of a ring on either hand, before brushing the thought aside.

“You’re writing on the morality of good or bad actions,” he hums, as he looks over the sources you had chosen, “Scanlon, good — have you read—”

“‘What We Owe to Each Other?’ Only about a million times — well more like six,” and he nods appreciatively, “of course you’ve read it,”

“I didn’t just read it, I wrote a paper on it, similar to yours, actually,” and your eyes flick up to meet his, he’s leaning forward in his chair, red pen in hand, as he scribbles notes in the margins, as well as on the back of your bibliography, “of course I don’t have your penchant for rambling,”

You pout, “I don’t ramble — I like to make my point—”

“Many times, and the same one,” and your mouth opens, only to find a wry smirk on his lips, “I’m teasing, another one of my very tedious qualities, and how you stand it during class astonishes me,”

You cross your arms, unable to meet his eyes, as you choose to stare at your bibliography instead, “You’re not completely tedious, more like irritating,” and he huffs a chuckle.

You had to admit, begrudgingly, Professor Geto was a…good teacher. And you had your fair share of awful teachers — many of them were brilliant, accomplished people in their fields, but didn’t know how to translate and convey that in their lectures to students who simply knew less than them. But Geto…he knew how to break down complex concepts and theories of moral philosophy and ethics to a science, he knows how to make students understand these complicated topics that you had seen other professors fail to, and he does it while being an intellectual dreamboat to most of his students — the ones that swarm his desk after class, still there even as you slowly make your way out of the lecture hall.

“A rare compliment from you,” he raises an eyebrow, “I’m touched,”

“You’re one to talk,” you furrow your brow, and a smile pulls at his lips.

“Didn’t know you wanted my approval,” he tilts his head, leaning forward to lean on his elbow on the desk, “well, you have improved remarkably in the class so far, and if you keep going like this, I may have no choice but to praise you,”

“You will,”

“Someone is very sure of themselves,” a pause and then he adds with a quirk of his lips, “as you should be,” and he’s sliding your bibliography across the table again, and passes it back, “read the sources I recommended, and see about adding them to your paper — you may have some overlap in the other papers you chose so use your discretion on which ones you use,”

“So don’t repeat myself?” You raise an eyebrow, and he leans back in his chair, crossing his legs.

“You learn fast.”

And you do — returning to your apartment to work on your paper, as you flip through his notes — as much as you hate to admit it, his notes and criticism did help — annoyingly so. He was far more detailed and perceptive than any other professor you had. Most had let you skate by without a second thought, and you wrote papers like you deleted your internet history after a scandalous romp through elicit websites — tools, clear history — and then onto the next paper or exam. But Professor Geto forced you to face your shortcomings, face the things that you didn’t like to give a second glance to, lest your rejection sensitive self feel the agony of having to deal with criticism.

Each time you did it, you got a little better, and he had a little less to say — time and time again.

You leaned back on your bed, scrolling through the papers he recommended, but so what? So what if he was a good teacher? Doesn’t mean he has to be as infuriating as he is — he knew exactly what to do to get under your skin, and he didn’t prod at it, he scratched it.

And you found yourself typing his name (“suguru geto”) and T.M. Scanlon’s name into the search bar of your university’s library collection, and his paper pops up right on top.

You stare at the paper for a good minute, before you click on it — and you start reading. And reading. And reading — and fuck—

It was good. It was more than that — it gave you so much insight on this topic, it made you rediscover T.M. Scanlon’s work in a new light — and you bite your lip. And it wasn’t just the research — the way it organized, the way it was presented, the way it was written — it was eloquent, but it wasn’t unreadable or incomprehensible. It was…really good.

You imagined him, pouring over Scanlon’s work as he wrote notes in the margins of his copy, pages dogeared and passages highlighted, as he sat in his office typing away at this paper. His sleeves rolled up, his hair let out of his usual bun, his glasses perched on his nose as he read, only his desk lamp and computer illuminating his office. The keys of his computer clacking under his touch, lengthy fingers pitter pattering as he wrote his thoughts and analysis of Scanlon’s work — his brow furrowed in thought.

And you felt yourself flush, swallowing the lump in your throat, as you kicked off your blanket — it was so warm all of a sudden, pressing your thighs together. You shook the thoughts from your mind — what the hell were you doing? You glanced at the time, 2:39 AM it read back at you mockingly. You sigh, shutting your laptop down, and putting it aside — you need to do your skincare and brush your teeth. You glance back at your laptop—the familiar of your flush clung to your skin like a forbidden kiss—

And you clearly needed sleep.

“Can you read this passage to me?” Professor Geto’s voice said, as he stood in front of you in the lecture hall — as you stood behind the podium that faced the entire class — hands in his pockets, in an olive henley, his hair tied in the usual neat bun, his black bangs falling in his eyes as always, glasses on, instead of the usual contacts. The class sat all around you — his exercise in getting the class to participate and get comfortable speaking in front of others, just as philosophers had done in the past (his very own “literary salon” he called it).

You swallow, keeping your eyes fixed on the book in front of you, “‘When I ask myself what reason the fact that an action would be wrong provides me with not to do it, my answer is that such an action would be one that I could not justify to others on ground I could expect them to accept—’”

“What do you think Scanlon meant by this?” he asks you, but his gaze was different this time, it held the amusement it always did when it came to you, but it was warm — no — it was burning. His lips were pursed, as he crossed his arms, the henley’s fabric seemingly straining under the action.

“He meant that an action that is wrong in his eyes when he couldn’t expect others to accept the ground on which he could justify it,” and his lips curve into that damned smile, as he takes a few steps closer, rounding the podium, as he brushes past you, the brief touch of temptation incarnate — the dangling apple of Tantalus personified before you.

“And can you give me some examples of what kinds of actions would be wrong?” and he’s standing behind you now, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him — but you can feel his gaze on you.

“Senseless murder,” and he hums in approval, his breath felt like it was warming your skin, “wanton violence, reckless assault—”

“What other everyday wrongdoings could fall under this category?” and suddenly the class before you is gone, and it’s just the two of you in an empty lecture hall, “theft, lying, student-teacher relationships?”

And your breath catches in your throat, his cologne strangling any sense left in your mind, as his body heat nearly radiates off him, “Professor Geto—”

“Suguru,” he corrects you, and he’s reaching for you, but he pauses, “can I—” and you only can nod, and his fingers brush your hair aside, ever so gently, “would this be considered a moral wrongness, sweetheart?” his lips press a chaste kiss to your shoulder, and you shiver at the softness of his touch.

“Well, I am a student in your class, and even though I’m of age, it presents a power dynamic and a favoritism that might be—” and your sentence cuts off as his arms wind their way around your waist, pressing himself to your back, “I—”

“Go on,” he’s murmuring his words against the nape of your neck now, as he pulls his glasses off to place them on the podium, “might be what?”

“Might be viewed as morally wrong—” and he’s chuckling, the vibration sending a delicious shiver down your spine, as he presses more butterfly kisses to your neck.

“How can something be wrong when it feels so right?” he asks, and his hand is sliding down your side, “feels so good, does it even matter what society views as right or wrong? Do their rules pertain to what we’re doing here?” and his fingers toy with the hem of your pants, teasing and pulling, as he pauses, waiting for your answer, “what do you think—”

“Please,” you swallow, as you turn to look at him, seeing his lips in that same smile that haunted you, “touch me,”

And his smile only grows wider, “Good girl.”

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

Your eyes flutter open, your breath caught in your throat, as you stare at your ceiling, your hand reaching for your phone to silence the alarm. And you squeeze your thighs together, a distinct ache between your legs, your skin all too warm.

What the fuck was that?

You skip office hours the next week. You couldn’t bear it — you could barely tolerate going to class now, as the dream invades your nights, with filthy variations that leave you perturbed and horny (mostly horny). The common theme only being that each time you get close to anything remotely that’s anything (a kiss, a touch that’s more than a caress, anything at all), you wake up.

It’s as if your dreams are edging you — you groan into your pillow — and it was working.

You’re so wound up, you’ve even resorted to using your vibrator before bed, wondering if that would make a difference — it did, but only with you having a dream of Professor Geto using a vibrator on you during class — the vibrations growing even faster when you were speaking as he watched you—

You needed to stop thinking about this. But how can you?

God, it’s even worse when you’re in class. You sit in your usual seat, front and center — and why does it feel like his eyes are on you far too often? Even as he lectures Professor Geto attempts to catch your eye during his lecture, trying to make a point, you all but glue your gaze down to the textbook and your laptop, typing away his words, trying to drown out the whispered words and groans from your dream that ring in your ears. You can’t stop seeing him — unless you want to skip class, which you really couldn’t when attendance and participation counted for a good chunk of your grade.

Class ended and you were packing up your things. You had to weather the storm — avoid being alone with him until the dreams were just a distant memory—

And then you heard him say your name—

Your eyes flick up to meet Professor Geto — who had his usual swarm of students waiting by his desk, but he parted the crowd, he approached your own seat, hands in your pockets, “Do you have a class after this?”

“No, I don’t—” the words slip out before your sleep deprived mind can put the pieces together.

“Then can you please stay after class? I’d like to talk to you,” he says, and before you can say anything, he turns to speak to the students waiting for him.

And now you wait — your anxious energy singing at the frayed ends of your nerves, as you tried to hold yourself together — wondering what he could possibly want to speak to you about. His students dissipated one by one, until it was just you and him left in the lecture hall.

Just. Like. Your. Fucking. Dream.

You round the row you sat in, before walking down to speak to him, “Is there something wrong? The next paper isn’t due until the end of next week—”

“It isn’t about the paper,” and your heart squeezes, as you try to keep your breathing even, as he steps closer — and why, why did he have to opt to only wear a button up today — and a deep royal purple one no less, “I wanted to check in with you,” and he begins to undo the cuffs of his shirt, rolling them up — exposing his forearms and the pretty veins that ran along them — the same arms that he had used in one of your dreams to bend you over that desk, the whispers of heated kisses along your neck—

You needed to get out of here.

You blink, “I’m fine,” and he tilts his head.

“I only ask because you’ve looked tired the last two classes, and you didn’t show up for office hours this week,” he crosses his arms, unhelpfully, as he purses his lips, the lines of his brow furrowed.

“I’m fine, Professor, I appreciate your concern — I just haven’t been sleeping well,” you admit — it was the truth, “and that’s why I didn’t come to office hours. I was trying to catch up on sleep,”

He nods, sighing, fingers raking through his hair — those same fingers that would feel so pretty around your neck— “I know I’m hard on you,” oh he would be, “but it’s because I know you’re capable of more — most of these students are taking the class for an elective, but I know it’s more than that for you,” yes, it’s so you can finally earn his praise, “but I’m also here for your benefit, so if you need an extension or anything else, please let me know,”

God, all you wanted was for him to maybe wrap you in his arms and kiss you, or bend you over, pull your clothes off and fuck you, or just to leave you alone all together.

You weren’t sure which one you wanted the most at this moment.

“I will, Professor Geto, I appreciate it,” you murmur, biting your lip, as you try to focus on the task at hand — getting out of here, “I don’t think I need an extension, I’ve made good progress so far. I just need to finish it, so I can revise,”

“Well, let me know if anything changes,” his lips curl, “ok?” And you nod, and if you weren’t so hyperaware, you swore you would have imagined it — but you didn’t, “good girl,”

And you pause a moment — his lips did move, you pinch yourself discreetly — and you know it isn’t a fucking dream. You only smile in return, giving a curt nod and goodbye, before beelining out of the classroom.

But you didn’t stick around long enough to see the slight flush on Professor Geto’s cheeks — nor did you know that you two were thinking the same thing about yourselves—

What the fuck were you doing?

But to your relief, the dreams do subside, and you’re finally able to rest — but the thing that doesn’t subside is your awareness of your professor.

You sit in class, watching him teach — and you knew he was attractive, hell, it was one of the things that made you all the more embarrassed to have him ream you out — having your super hot professor rail at you for your mistakes wasn’t on your list of shining achievements (lest it was him actually railing you—).

You needed to stop doing that.

But it felt as if you weren’t the only one who was hyper aware. You felt as if his eyes skimmed over you during class this week, his replies to your weekly discussion board were less biting than usual, and his office hours were surprisingly canceled this week. First time all semester, but you weren’t so full of yourself that you thought it had anything to do with you — right?

Either way, you had submitted your paper and now you were done with this week—and as class finishes, you slowly pack up, looking forward to the week being over with and for a personal rendezvous with your bed. But as the usual gaggle of students make their way to chat with Professor Geto, your eyes flicker up to meet his, as he stares back a moment.

And you can’t make yourself look away, and for a moment, neither can he.

But then a student calls for his attention, so his eyes flicker away, a smile on his lips as he spoke — and you turn to leave, grabbing your bag, as you look back—

But why did his smile look so strained?

There must be something wrong with him.

Professor Suguru Geto drummed his fingers against his desk, but he felt more like shoving his things off his desk — if only to distract him for a moment. He pulls his glasses off, and runs a hand down his face—god, he hadn’t been sleeping well. No, his nights were plagued, plagued by you — you had slipped into his dreams ever since that day he stopped you.

Why had he stopped you?

It wasn’t the first time he had personally stopped a student who seemed to be struggling, he could count the times he had on both his hands.

But this, this felt different.

You were different.

But why were you different to him? He rubs his temples, from the moment you had stepped into his office he thought he had read you — an overachieving student used to getting their way, As handed out to them, and an inability to take criticism.

He knew, because he used to be one of them. But he knew you needed to be challenged to grow — but it was a matter if you would accept it. And from the moment you asked him when the next paper was due, he couldn’t help but smile.

And his time spent in office hours with you grew more enjoyable each time you came. And when you hadn’t last week, he couldn’t sit still, checking the time, checking his email, and even checking if his office hours had been accidentally listed wrong in his weekly email to the class (they weren’t). And the hour and half passed with many students hungry for his time and his charm — but not the one he was looking for.

Then those words had slipped from his tongue when he had stopped you, left his mouth like he was possessed, and now he had found himself here. Found himself thinking about how your lips parted when he said it, thinking about how you were feeling, thinking about you, you, you—

There’s a knock at the door, “Professor Geto?”

And it was you.

“I apologize, I know you canceled office hours, but I just had a few questions I didn’t get to ask you in class,” your fingers toy with the ring you wore, a folder in hand, a soft smile on your lips.

“Of course, come in,” and you did, your dress was painfully short, the fabric riding up as you sat, the folder in your lap, “is this about your paper?”

“It is, I was reading a few papers, and after our conversation, I couldn’t help but find your paper,” and he tilts his head, “and I want to include it as a source in my paper, but I had a few points you made that I wanted clarified,”

He raises an eyebrow, and he can’t help but tease, “Clarified or criticized? Are you planning on turning the tables on me?”

“Well I do have a red pen,” you click your pen, lips curved in a smile, and there’s a hint of heat that he wishes to unearth, pluck from the earth and possess himself, “but I promise I’ll be civil,”

“I have no doubt,” he had a million when it came to you — but that wasn’t one of them. He runs his fingers through his hair, a few strands coming loose, “of course, let’s discuss it,”

“You discuss Scanlon’s idea of a social contract, everyone within this moral society agrees on what’s right and what’s wrong — the basic principle is that if there is a rule no one can reasonably reject as a basis, but is there such a rule that can exist?”

He tilts his head, “Scanlon’s theory relies on this premise — are you questioning me or the premise?”

“Both, actually,” you shrug, crossing your legs, “is there a magic switch that changes every person to be rational? Because I think only rational people can agree on what rules cannot be reasonably rejected — what about people who are cruel, inconsiderate, self-absorbed? Do those traits go away when operating under Scanlon’s social contract? You propose in your paper that moral reasons are not subjective — nothing is uncolored by human opinion,”

“No, but—”

“How can we agree on what is truly right or wrong? How can one hundred people agree on that when everyone views these actions in different ways? Right and wrong? Black, white, or gray?” you rise from your chair to hand him his paper printed out, the paper more red than white with the amount of writing you’ve done, “like for example,” you lean forward, your hand braced against the edge of his desk, “can one hundred people agree that student-teacher relationships are wrong? Because one veto,” your hand trails ever closer to his, toeing that dangerous line either of you had even yet to approach to cross. But here you were, seemingly barreling toward it.

And he didn’t want to pull away.

He swallows, whispering your name, “This can’t—” and you were so close — too close, your perfume hypnotized him, your fingers brush against his and he can’t help but hold them, his thumb rubbing across your knuckles, “they can agree that it’s wrong — the power imbalance from the authority of the professor and the age difference—”

“I disagree, so the rule isn’t legitimate, right? Even if one disagrees, the rule cannot be make valid,” and his breath catches as your fingers slide up his arm now, resting on his shoulder, as you lean over his chair now, as your other hand toys with the loose strands of his hair, “if the two of us can’t even agree, then how could a hundred, or a thousand, or a million?”

“But—”

“But what?” you pout, your fingers dragging down his chest, toying with the top button of his button down, “I don’t see you pulling away, do you want me to stop, Professor? Because I will,”

And he swallows thickly, but he can’t stop you — he doesn’t want to, “But, we shouldn’t — it isn’t a reasonable objection—” he tries his hardest to stand firm, but he only crumbles when your fingers brush his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw. And it feels like flames tickling at his skin, begging him to thrust his hand into the fire.

“Like I said, people are not reasonable,” your lips draw closer, and he can feel your breath warm his own, and god, why are you so tempting? And your lips stop short, barely an inch between your faces, “and besides, would you rather be reasonable or satisfied?”

And there’s only one answer — you.

He leans forward, lips nearly brushing yours—

RING. RING. RING.

He jerks awake from his desk, papers sliding as he does, his breath caught in his throat, and his eyes wander — and finds no one else there.

A dream. He runs his fingers through his hair again, crumpling the paper he had oh so lovingly drooled during his nap. He needed to get his shit together.

But his current predicament wasn’t making that easy — his cock strained against the fabric of his pants — was he a grown adult or a horny teenager?

Fuck. It wasn’t going away — no matter what he thought, his mind kept circling back to you.

And his eyes slide to the time: 1:40 AM.

Far past the time any soul would be here, even cleaning staff would have been long gone. It was just him—

And you.

“So good for me, baby,” he’s panting, palming his erection, an embarrassing amount of precum drips from his cock for a barely wet dream. He ignores the gnawing guilt in the back of his mind — but he can’t help but imagine the image of you, spread out on his desk, hiking that oh so teasing sundress up, only to find your underwear drenched — just for him.

His fingers would slide up your plush thighs, squeezing to draw a gasp from your pretty lips, “Professor—“ you’d say, unable to form a sentence, all those brilliant falling away under his touch, until it was just him occupying every crevice of your mind.

“Where’s that mouth now? So needy f’me,” he’d murmur, “but such a good girl,” and you were, his thumb tracing his slit, smearing his pre-cum, as he imagined you spread on his desk, your puffy folds nearly showing through your far too translucent panties, “my best student’s so pliant for me now,”

And his hand moves faster, and he can imagine your fingers reaching for him too, your smaller fingers wouldn’t be able to even touch as much as he can — but god it would feel so much better.

But he’d want you to feel even better than he did.

He’d tug your underwear down, stuffing it in his pocket (his fee for all of additional office hours), and he would prep you right — fuck you open with his fingers, two or three, before he tasted you. Your fingers would dig into his scalp as you moaned his name again and again, before you came all over his face.

He’d lick his lips clean of your release, before dragging his cock down your sweet cunt, watching his precum mix with your cum, as your walls flutter around nothing, craving to have him sink into you.

“Professor, please,” you’d beg with pretty, kiss bitten lips between pants, “please,”

“Where’s all those quips now, sweetheart?” he’d tease, as he would let his tip tease your clit, pulling a moan from your lips, “all those words fall away when you want this cock, don’t they? Been thinking about you like this, wondering what you’d look like spread out under me,” and he would lean down to kiss you, “it’s even better than I expected,”

He’s jerking himself off in earnest now, the lewd noises of his hand around his cock filling most of the silence, his low groans filling the rest. And he’d finally sink into you, inch by inch, until he’d kiss your cervix with his weeping tip.

And, god, he wishes his fingers fisted around his cock would be as good as your cunt would feel around him. He would fuck you slow at first, “I know those boys can’t fuck you as good as I can, as well as I can,” he’d tell you, as he would pick up the pace when you’d tell him to, making you cum again and again with his cock, thumb rubbing at your clit, until he was finally close. He’d either cum all over your stomach, marking you with his release, or if you’d let him, he’d cum inside you, filling you with his seed—and then he’d watch it drip out when he would pull out. He groans your name lowly, shuddering as he comes all over his hand, hard.

Fuck.

That’s the hardest he’d cum in a long time. He’s a mess — panting and flushed, as he leans back, head against the back of his chair, too spent to even clean up. And then he finally does, cleaning himself up well, and collecting his things to leave the office.

But he only treated the symptoms, not the problem itself. His hard-on is gone, but his mind is still filled with thoughts of you. How he’d kiss you sweetly after, how he’d clean you up, care for you gently, make you rest because you never seem to do enough of that, and he’d let you relax — finally relax, as you slept the night in his arms.

As he heads to his car, he knows that he’s utterly fucked (without even being fucked) because he has feelings for you. And he didn’t know if they were going to go away as easily as he hoped.

But he hoped they would. He owed it to you, your education, and your future career not to act on these feelings.

And he sighs as he sits in his car, starting it, but why did it hurt not to?

It was that time again.

Your next paper had come around again, and you needed to prepare a topic before you went to speak to Professor Geto. You had put it off, something you had never done with his class, but you wanted to limit the amount of time you spent with him, if only for the sake of your heart.

Watching him in lectures was bad enough, your thighs pressing together as you watched him speak, his impeccable looks and intelligence a deadly combination for your heart (and your body). You could barely focus, your eyes too fixed on the way he wrote on the board — his fingers too lithe and too thick, his voice all too alluring when discussing Kant and Aristotle and you can’t help but think what he’d sound moaning your name.

God. Fuck.

Either way, you needed to listen to the lectures again since you weren’t able to pay attention. Maybe without watching the video would be better, you settle on your bed, notebook and pen in hand, as you place your headphones on. His voice filled your ears, and you’re scrawling notes.

But your mind begins to wander. He’s lecturing on the deontological ethics, and all you can think about is how he could make you cum with just that voice of his.

Shit, you shifted your thighs again, feeling that familiar ache again. What would he sound like when he moaned? How would it sound to have him touch you, run those long fingers down your thighs, and whisper filthy things in your ear?

As you listened to the lecture, his voice became white noise as your fingers slipped past the waistband of your shorts, and you shut your eyes.

“That’s it, sweetheart, spread your legs for me,” he’d murmur in your ear, his chest pressed to your back and he’s urge your thighs wider, and his fingers would press against the wet patch on your panties, and he’d hum, “so wet f’me and I haven’t touched you yet, Princess,” his lips would kiss your pulse, “you like my voice that much?”

“Professor,” you gasp, as his fingers would tease you through your underwear, the fabric growing more soaked by the second, “please—“ and his thumb would ghost around your clit, teasing you, as his long fingers would piston in and out — they would reach so much fucking deeper “I need to—“

“Already begging? I knew you learned fast, but not this fast,” and his fingers would tug the crotch of your panties aside, his fingertips tracing around your outer lips, before a finger pushes past your sweet cunt, “fuck, my favorite student’s pussy is so fucking tight. These boys are not fucking you right,” and you whimper, his finger would be so much thicker than yours, as you glide another finger inside you, the two dragging against your walls, “listen to your pretty cunt,” he’d grin against your skin, “and the wet squelch of your pussy, “so pliant for me, takes my fingers so well,” he’d murmur with a chuckle, “practically swallowing me up,”

And you’re bucking your hips against him, wanting, needing him deeper, because your fingers don’t reach as far as his does, moans leaving your lips.

“I’m so—” you’re moving faster and faster, his lecture still filling your ears, your pre-cum soaking your shorts and onto the bed sheets, “I can’t—”

“Come on, Princess, use those big words of yours, you have no problem usually,” his hot words would whisper in your ear, and you’d hear him rub his erection against your ass, trying to get himself off, and you’d grind against him, wanting any friction, “tell me,”

“Let me cum, please,” and he would smile, running his fingers through your hair, before he bore his thumb down on your clit and sunk a third finger into your needy cunt, just as you did now. And it’s too much for you, your toes curl, your messy walls fluttering around your fingers, as you cum all over your shorts and sheets with a groan of his name. Your fingers were soaked, as you pant, trying to gather yourself, as you came down from your high.

“Fuck,” you murmur, tugging off your headphones, so your cunt doesn’t have to twitch listening to his dulcet words again. And you’re pulling your fingers out, your cum dripped down your fingers, as you shifted, far too wet underneath you, as you tried to slip off your bed to take a shower and clean yourself up.

And then you realized, you didn’t even hear any of the lecture.

Double fuck.

Why was this so difficult?

You stood near his office, trying to work up the urge to approach his door for office hours? Since it’s almost the end of the semester, there had been an influx of students attending office hours, and with everything, you had found excuses in your head to avoid office hours. But you couldn’t avoid him anymore.

For your final paper in the class, you had to have a meeting with him during office hours to discuss your topic, complete with bibliography and outline. And it was almost time for your meeting.

But you didn’t know how to go in.

The last few weeks in class have made things worse. You couldn’t help but watch the other students fawn over Professor Geto, his lips curled as he spoke to them. And you’d leave class without a word. You had to stick through the semester and your feelings would disappear with time. You wouldn’t have to see him, you wouldn’t have class anymore, and you couldn’t talk to him.

Or wouldn’t.

But now you had to. And you didn’t know how— otherwise than just to do it.

You knock at his door, “Come in,” and you open the door to see an empty desk, blinking, “I’m over here,”

And your head snaps to your right, and Professor Geto is sitting on his couch, his legs crossed with a stack of papers in hand. His jacket is slung over the side of the couch, his deep maroon button up sleeves rolled up, glasses perched on the tip of his nose.

“I thought you lived at your desk,” you raise an eyebrow, “decided to change it up for the end of the semester?”

“Everyone needs a change of scenery,” he leans forward, placing the stack of papers on the table in front of him, “do you want to sit here or move to the desk?”

You shift in place, before moving to the couch beside him, “This is fine,” he stares, “what?”

“Just surprised, you always have something to say,” he leans on his elbow, “no smart remarks today?”

“Fresh out, can I offer you my proposal for the final paper instead?” You say dryly, and he cracks a smile, holding out your proposal. He clicks his red pen, readying his sword.

He takes it, his dark eyes darting back and forth as he reads, his brow furrowed in concentration — and you can’t help but want to reach out and smooth his brow for him, tease him that he’ll get wrinkles. But you can’t. Can’t because that would cross a line that neither of you should cross.

“You’ve come a long way,” he says, as he flips it back the front, writing only a few notes here and there.

“But?” You wait for it.

His gaze flickers up, a tilt of his head, “That was the end of my sentence,”

You pause a moment, “Really?”

“Really,” he scribbles a few more notes, “I look forward to reading the paper, it will be excellent I’m sure, maybe you’ll even get higher than a B+,”

“Oh, ha, ha,” sarcasm dripping from your tongue, but you can’t help but smile, “you’ll miss me and my endless need for academic validation,” but was it really academic validation you were after now — your eyes gazed at him sitting with the tip of his pen pressed to his lips — or was it his?

And it’s his turn to pause, and his lips curl into a soft smile, “I will,”

Your breath catches, “Really?”

He chuckles, “Really,” he licks his lips, his eyes glancing downward at your proposal than at your face, “I’ve enjoyed our chats this semester,”

“Have you? Even when I argued with you,” a half nervous half serious laugh dies on your lips when his gaze meets yours, far too serious for your heart to take.

“Especially then,” his fingers run through his hair a moment, before he speaks again, “I can’t say you could say the same,”

“And why couldn’t you?” his eyes flicker with an emotion you can’t grasp fast enough, before it slips away into the depths of his dark irises.

“Because you stopped coming,” his voice is soft, his tone barely even, and this gives you a real pause, heat flushing your body, as if his words had set every nerve ending alight, your mouth growing dry along with it, and it gives him a reprieve he needs to brush it aside, “you don’t have to, of course, these office hours are not relevant to your—”

“I didn’t stop coming because I didn’t enjoy it,” you cut him off, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I stopped coming because I did,”

He stares, “What do you—”

“I don’t want academic validation anymore, I don’t care about my GPA,” you consider it a moment, “ok I do,” and he snorts, “but I care more about validation from you,”

“From me?” he says, and his gaze tries to meet yours and it can’t — but his fingers brush against your skin, making your breath catch, your eyes finding his, “and what kind of validation do you want?”

And you can’t find the words, and you hesitation makes him shake his head, “I apologize, I shouldn’t have—”

“Will you have a drink with me?” and he’s speechless for once, “after the semester is over, of course — I know it wouldn’t be ethical before,”

And his eyes find yours again, “Some would say it would be unethical after too,”

“I would say it depends,”

“On what basis?” and you can’t help but smirk.

“Am I being graded, Professor?” and you delight in a small crack in his smiling veneer as a light flush dusts the tops of his ears, “and if I’m good, will you call me a good girl again?”

He swallows, “I don’t want to cost you your education or your—”

“I understand the risks, but we aren’t contemplating shifting a trolley to hit one person or five, or murdering one healthy person to save five sick ones,” and he raises an eyebrow, “it’s a drink to celebrate the end of the semester,”

“And if it's something more?” he nearly whispers, the softness of his voice reflected in his features, as his fingers that rested on the couch twitched beside yours.

“Then we’ll cross that bridge then,” and then you add with a small smile, “Or hit the metaphorical person with the trolley,” and it pulls at the corners of his lips.

“You make a fair point,” and you gasp in mock surprise.

“The first time all semester you agree with me,” and he chuckles, a noise you wished you could hear him make innumerable times more.

“Not the first,” he replies, before leaning forward, pressing your outline back into your hands, his fingers brushing yours, “we both agree you’re a good girl, don’t we?”

And your breath catches, his words warm your skin, turning your blood to lava, “Professor,” and he smiles again.

“When we go for drinks, call me Suguru.”

~~~~

The semester wears on and finally draws to an end, but finals induced hibernation begins for you. A mix of papers and exams, you finish everything — including your paper for Professor Geto’s class. As always, he has you submit a paper and electronic copy, the paper copy to be dropped off at his office mailbox. And you do just that, the mailboxes being only around the corner from his office, and your heart squeezes at the thought of him. After this, the class was over, it was done. You weren’t his student anymore.

And you place the paper into the mailbox and sigh, chewing your lip as you pass by his office, but find the door closed (and locked, as you quickly turned the doorknob to test it). Where was he? This was the time he was usually in his office, but maybe he had left campus for the semester — had he forgotten about your drinks?

Fuck. You hadn’t even discussed a time or place, you had left it vague — “after finals.” Your cheeks burned at the memory, you were far too flustered to elaborate. And you had spent far too many nights imagining him calling you a ‘good girl’ in many other situations.

And then you heard a call of your name, your gaze snapping up, your heart leaping, but only to see the department head.

“Hi Professor, how are you?” and the two of you make polite chit-chat, until he asks you.

“Have you applied to be a T.A. for the department?” and you blink, “applications just opened and I think from what I’ve heard about you around the department, I think you would be an excellent candidate.”

“I’d love to be — how does the application process work?” and he explains that it’s a double blind process where applications are viewed without personal information of the candidates, and then matched with a professor based only on resume and writing samples.

You can barely listen to the department head, still far too distracted with thoughts of Professor Geto — so you agree to apply, if only to placate the department head, and make an excuse to leave.

It had been a week or so, as you lay in bed in your apartment, staring at your ceiling — you hadn’t even bothered to get Professor Geto’s personal number. You couldn’t even reach out to him if you tried, as the only way you could was through his university email, which was out of the question — the university had rules against a professor and student dating, and if anyone found that email — you sighed — it wouldn’t be good.

Maybe it was for the best.

The only communication you had gotten from him was an email from Professor Geto’s mailing list to the class from a few days ago, stating that he was out of state in a conference, and he would return soon, but your grades would be emailed to you. But the paper copies would be available to pick up in his office from 3:00 PM to 6:00 PM on Tuesday. It was almost time to pick up your paper, and your nerves bit at you as you thought about the possibility of seeing him. Who knows if he would even be there to begin with.

Would it be anything? Would it be nothing? Was there not any point to this at all?

Oh, great, you were becoming existential.

You sat up, the only thing you could do was go. So you do, taking your time to get dressed. If you were going to see him, you might as well look your best.

Fuck. You couldn’t go in. It had taken you longer to get back to campus than you thought, and now there were only a few minutes of his office hours left.

And you’re about to knock when the door opens, and you find yourself face to face with the man who has consumed every thought of yours for the last few months — good and bad alike.

“Late again?” and you can’t help but smile.

“I prefer fashionably late,” and his eyes rake over your outfit, making your cheeks burn.

“You certainly are,” and he steps aside to allow you into his office, and you glance between the couch and the desk, but he makes the choice and sits at his desk, “I have your paper right here,” and he’s rifling through his file of papers, “how did your finals go?”

“If I have an A on this paper, perfectly,” and a smile tugs at his lips, and you raise an eyebrow, “what? Something funny?”

“Not at all,” and he pulls your paper out, ha “I just recall you saying you wanted something more than, what was it? ‘My academic validation?’”

And your cheeks flush, “I did, but I also didn’t hear from you,” and your fingers reach for the paper, and he holds onto it, “Professor,”

“I couldn’t reach out to you because I was still your professor, but once you get this grade, I’m not anymore,” and his gaze is sharper without his glasses today, his dark blue Henley doing nothing to help the flush on your cheeks — memories of your dreams flooding your mind, “and once you get this grade back, I’m not anymore,”

“And what does that mean?” you can’t pull your eyes away from his, but his fingers let go of your graded paper, “how about you look at the last page of your paper and see?”

You pull the paper into your hands, flipping to the last page:

99 — I was impressed by this paper not only by the content but by its comprehension and use of both ethics and philosophy. But I was also impressed by the person who wrote the paper. You’ve shown determination and growth throughout the semester — and you have reminded me what we owe to each other. And I think we owe each other a drink, and a chance for this.

You feel his eyes watch you as you read, your eyes finally meeting his — his brow knit together, his lips pursed, concentrated gaze trying to decipher your reaction.

“Why a 99?” And his eyebrows raise, as if to ask, “that’s your question?”

“You had some spelling and grammar errors,”

“Really? You couldn’t let it slide?” And he tilts his head, before he sees your lips curling into a grin.

“So you think it’s funny to mess with your professor?” And his voice drops, a playful tone that makes you nearly shiver, as he leans forward, resting his chin against his elbow.

“You’re not my professor anymore, are you, Suguru?” he likes that by the way his teeth bite his bottom lip briefly, his eyes flitting to your lips for a moment and back to your eyes, “so I guess we’re using that trolley after all,”

“If you want to,” he says softly, “I wouldn’t blame you if you change your mind, it’s a risk,”

It was. It was a risk to your reputations, your careers, your futures — especially to yours. But, your eyes met his again.

“Contractualism is about avoiding risk,” and he nods, as his gaze falls away, “but some risk is necessary in life, and I think this is one that’s worth taking,”

“We will have to be careful,” he murmurs, but already his fingers are twitching, far too eager to touch you, “we can’t make any mistakes. I don’t want to hurt you,” he adds softly.

“I know, I don’t want to hurt you either,” and you rise before slowly rounding his desk, “but I want to know what it’s like,”

And he can’t stop himself — he gets to his feet, his fingers finding your cheeks and he kisses you. You can taste the black coffee on his lips, his kiss is gentle at first, so chaste and fleeting that you’d swear he didn’t kiss you at all — and so it’s not a second before your lips find his again, in a deeper kiss that steals every ounce of breath from your lungs, and leaves only heat behind. This was dangerous. The very risk you were both trying to avoid, but as he’s pressing you into the edge of his desk, you can’t find the logic you misplaced when those goddamn fingers you’ve been dreaming about squeeze your hips.

“Fuck,” he’s panting — god that word sounded more sinful on his lips than it should — as he presses sweet kisses to your neck, “we shouldn’t be doing this here,”

“Not very ethical,” you chuckle breathlessly, as your fingers rake through his now disheveled bun, “but I can’t find the sense to care,” your noses brush, as you can’t help but smile, “what would Scanlon or Kant say about this?”

And his arms lift you onto his desk, several papers crumpling underneath, “Who the fuck cares?” he’s hissing, his lips find yours in a searing kiss, as his thighs press yours apart, as he settles himself between your legs, his knee grazing your core, drawing a delightful gasp from your lips, “I know what I want,” and his eyes soften, his fingers tracing the length of your cheek, “do you?”

Before you can answer, two pings catch your attention — your phone and his computer lighting up with a notification, and you both pause a moment, as your eyes glance at the banner notification on your phone, skimming over the words. The T.A. positions have been assigned.

“Fuck,” you hear him mutter, and you gaze snaps up to his on his computer, the email now opened on his screen, “this can’t be right—”

“What is it—” and the question dies on your lips as your eyes find where his rested —

You — you were his T.A. for next semester — for the very class that you met in.

Fuck, indeed.

✧ read part 2 now

✧ a/n: lets all remember that student and teacher relationships are bad in real life. it's ok to live vicariously through reader but unfortunately no professor will be as hot as professor geto or gojo T_T. s/o to @/laneymusings and @bucky-of-the-opera for beta reading this for me and being just absolutely wonderful!!

✧ tag list: @sokkasmoon, @unoriginalideas, @waytootiredforthisss, @sinnerstardoll, @secret-pages-of-my-heart, @drthymby, @hanlay, @catsgomurp, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @esuz, @difficultdomains, @poopyface222, @iwassentfromhell, @diogodxlot, @totallynotcc, @llovekami, @deadmarygolds, @teatreeoilll, @carcarcraziiv2, @forest-hashira, @aliyalala, @esuz, @that-goth-bisexual, @hehehehesthings, @imjustmememe, @j1jay, @iwassentfromhell,

#sab [mlist]#sab series [prof suguru]#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto suguru imagines #geto x reader #geto smut #geto x you #geto suguru fanfiction #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #dividers by @/saradika

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yanderenightmare · 1 year ago

Text

Nanami Kento

TW: yandere, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, size-difference, captive darling, subjugation, none of readers holes are safe

AN: kinda a sequel to this - sex therapist ! Nanami

fem reader

In the morning, before breakfast, he expects you to take care of his morning wood.

He says that’s what any proper young lady should do for a man. Petting your hair awfully leisurely while you clean up the sleepy mess – licking the half-wet half-dry glaze from his abs, sometimes needing to tongue it out of his belly button before moving down to his inner thighs and balls – lastly sucking him off for the rest of it.

You’ll lie on your stomach between his thighs under the covers while he’s still resting his eyes – groaning out groggy praise, sometimes with a heavy yawn. “Good girl~”

You don’t get breakfast until his balls are empty, is what you’ve learned.

One time – after he’d shot all his worth onto your tongue, stroking your cheek with a finger while telling you to be his good cum-doll and swallow – you’d retaliated by spitting his it out. And he’d punished you with an hour of being bent over his lap – spanking your poor butt raw – making it welt with popped veins until there wasn’t any space left to punish with a mark.

Then he’d put you down on your knees again and made you kiss his balls while apologizing to them – cuddling the heavy sack all teary-faced while begging for forgiveness.

Once satisfied, he’d encouraged you to suck a new nut from his tip – one which you swallowed in full and thanked him for afterward.

He’d also made you lick the first one up from the floor before cooing at you, wiping your tears with his roughened thumb with a slim smile – telling you that you were forgiven but that if you ever did such a horrible thing as wasting your food again, he’d have no choice but to starve you until you learned to appreciate all your meals properly.

After you’ve done your duty, swallowing his morning wood, you’re allowed downstairs for your second breakfast now that you’ve earned it.

But first, he’ll have you spread your legs so he can skewer one humming toy inside you. “It’s shameful for a lady to walk around with a dry pussy,” he says, and according to him, “you should always be dripping-ready with a twitchy coin-sized hole, happy to get pounded by a man’s fat cock, ever-grateful to receive his warm ball-juice in your womb.”

You iron his suit while he preps breakfast – rubbing your thighs together as they melt with trickles from your cunt – unable to keep yourself from cumming.

One time you were so distracted you’d made a triangle-shaped burn mark on his blue shirt because of it – and he’d punished you by stuffing the toy inside your tight ass instead.

He’d justified it by saying it was your pussy’s fault for being needy and selfish, and therefore it should be your pussy that’s punished.

The whole day, he’d ignored the pretty pink hole and slammed your poor butt instead. Cramming inside the tighty with the help of spit and rubbing oil until it gaped and accepted his pounding while you were bent and bowed in a well-deserved doggy position – rutting into your rear in quick robbing jams with both your hands pinned to your back and his foot placed on your cheek – stomping your pretty face while you sobbed for forgiveness, excusing your tardiness.

The next day, he’d mouthed something apologetic into your cunt. Licking and sucking your clit while saying he was sorry that he’d had to be so rough on you – that he hopes you learned your lesson so he’ll never have to ignore your perfect little pussy ever again. Telling you how he’d breed you twice as much that day to make up for what you’d missed the day before.

But anyway. During breakfast, he makes you cock-warm him on his lap while at the dinner table – telling you to say ah so he can spoon-feed you your share of the plate in front of you.

The toy within you is part of it. He tells you that keeping your toys clean is important and makes you lick your slick off until it’s all gone – praising you with a kiss to your cheek. He tilts his mug and takes the last drops of coffee, finishing it with a loud sigh.

“Is your belly full, baby?” He’ll mumble against your neck, scraping his chin-stubble along the soft skin to place a sloppy kiss there.

“Yes, Daddy, thank you.” You’ve been trained to say.

“Good~” He’ll purr - bouncing his leg, making you roost on his lap, feeling his meaty shaft sink just a bit deeper, curving out and making you bulge. “But this pussy is still starving, isn’t she?” He’ll keep a rough finger-pad on your swollen pearl while at it, rubbing tight circles into it, humming ruggedly from the squeeze it makes. “Want Daddy to fill her up, too?”

You’ll always shudder just a bit at the bite of his cock, bullying into your poor womb as you whimper out an ever so weak, “Yes, please, Daddy…”

He’ll prop you up on the table, making you just the perfect height. Sometimes on your knees – with one hand stationed at the small of your back while the other pulls your hair like a ponytail to keep you from crawling away while he pounds into you from the back.

Other times you’re seated on your ass with your back against the table – one of his strong arms wrapped around your thigh – keeping you steady as he juts into with his heavy ballsack clapping against your ass – his other fist riddled tight around your throat.

Either way, he expects you to beg for it. Cry for his cum, saying, “Thank you for giving me cock, Daddy- it feels so good- please fill me up with your seed!”

After he’s fed and bred you for breakfast, he’ll leave for work.

But before he goes, he’ll prop you with a chastity belt first.

The crotch is fixed with a dildo sculpted from his cock – keeping you company. After all, he doesn’t want you to miss him too much – and besides, he needs something to soothe his homesickness while on the job – and knowing you have his cum and cock stored within you while you do your chores, thinking of him as much as he thinks of you, is enough to put a small smile on his face.

He’ll play with what vibrations to give you through the app on his phone – customizing his own rhythm. He’s decided to teach you morse code with it – talking filthy things by tapping out dots and lines – telling you how much his cock aches to feel your tight pussy soak him, how much he can’t wait to come home and give you the real thing.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere nanami #yandere nanami kento #yandere nanami x reader #yandere kento nanami #yandere kento #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami smut #kento smut #nanami kento smut #kento nanami smut #jjk nanami #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #jjk kento #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu nanami

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clarionglass · 6 months ago

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here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine?

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait!

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him.

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs.

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look.

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace.

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign.

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm.

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity.

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor.

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief.

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling.

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!”

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him.

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage.

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps.

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break.

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope.

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still.

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall.

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed.

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw.

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

#game master #sam reich!master #doctor who #dw #dropout #game changer #you know what let's chuck some character tags in here #15th doctor #the master #sam reich #brennan lee mulligan #grant o'brien #kaylin mahoney #clari speaks #clari writes #ah darlings i'm putting my chat down here rather than in the post body for once #so i've thought of this whole saga as 'part three' but i will be a) titling them all and b) just keeping on numbering the parts sequentiall #rather than 'part three part one' etc #otherwise we're getting into homestuck act titling territory and that is ground i do not wish to tread #also fuck i hope i've got the time zones right #i'm planning to post this when an episode of game changer would ordinarily be released. to plug the gap. to tide us over.#(the finale trailer is so delightfully unhinged and i cannot wait til next week)#anyway gang this one was wild #the slight but significant genre shift from 'game changer with doctor who elements' to 'doctor who with game changer elements'#it was fun to write! and hopefully fun to read :)#also i MUST say that eugene northernfireart has a baller comic in the works that this entire thing is based on #this is thousands of words of setup and continuation because the sketch idea was so good it possessed me #and we decided that it had to be a proper dw episode #(hey rtd hire me pls)#anyway eugene is on hiatus bc of life so in the meantime go give him love and be Fuckin Hyped for the comic when it appears bc i know i am

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specialagentlokitty · 3 months ago

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11th doctor x reader - tired rambles

Hi, hope you're doing well. Could I request a Doctor Who 11th Doctor x reader with this prompt that the reader will say "I love it when you're half asleep, hair sticking out everywhere and rambling nonsense. It's cute"? - Anon💜

It wasn’t often the doctor slept, it was even rarer that the time lord would stay in place for more than a few days at most.

But sometimes all his adventures would get to him, and he would always find his way to your front door, and today was no different.

You hadn’t long woken up when you heard the sound of him knocking on your door and calling out your name repeatedly.

Unlocking the door, a very tired but still slightly hyper doctor came stumbling through with a bright smile on his face.

“You’ll never believe what I just saw! The sun as a person! It had arms and legs!”

Blinking a few times, you close the front door and turn to face the doctor who was now wondering around your living room rearranging things it out realising.

“I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“The sun? With arms and legs…?”

“Exactly! Yes! A whole burning planet with a body! Why did it have a body you ask! I don’t know!”

The doctor ruffled his hair and turned around to look at you.

He was clearly tired, and his clothes slightly disheveled.

He had clearly just gotten back from an adventure.

“And all I could think about was how much you’d love to see something like that! I wanted to come back and get you to show you but then I lost control of the TARDIS and she wouldn’t move and the sun just swatted me around like a bouncy ball!”

You nod along, walking over to him and gently take his arm to lead him to your room.

The doctor placed his hand over yours and followed behind you, still telling you all about his latest adventure and everything that happened, even as you sat him down on your bed.

Carefully you remove his blazer, setting it aside and take off his bow tie, undoing the top button on his shirt before guiding him to lay down.

Putting his blazer and bow tie on the chair in the corner you come back over to sit next to him, smiling softly.

“Turns out the sun was just young, and wanted somebody to play games! So that’s what we did, we played all sorts of games! I taught the sun some games you taught me!”

The doctor looks at you and pauses his rambling when he sees you smiling at him, and he smiled even brighter.

“Why are you smiling?” He asked.

This makes you laugh a little bit, and you gently place your hand on his head, carefully running you fingers through his hair which makes him hum happily.

"I love it when you're half asleep, hair sticking out everywhere and rambling nonsense. It's cute.” you say softly.

The doctor smiles a little more, closing his eyes as you carry on running your fingers through his hair.

“You think I’m cute…?” He asks tiredly.

“I think you’re really cute, now go to sleep.”

He goes to protest but a yawn cuts him off, and he rolls on to his side, holding your hand to his chest as he falls asleep within seconds

#doctor who #doctor who x reader #doctor who x you #doctor who x y/n #doctor who imagine #11th doctor #11th doctor x reader #11th doctor x you #11th doctor imagine #eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x reader

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vhagarys · 3 months ago

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forgive me

aemond x wife!reader

summary: his lady wife summons him to the throne room. the last thing he expected was you sat atop the iron throne.

warnings: as this is a fic written by yours truly, SMUT, oral, masturbation, defiling of iron throne, exhibitionism

MDNI

“well, what do we have here, hm?” aemond couldn’t believe the sight before him.

his deep green riding jacket smothered your small figure. he knew you had on only your sheer, beige night slip underneath. but no, it’s where you sat that directed his attention.

your luscious silver curls and soft features were a stark contrast to the menacing, iron chair you seated yourself.

his wife possessed a teasing nature. it’s one of the reasons he adored you. he always indulged in your jests, delighting in your efforts to provoke a laugh from him.

though, you’d certainly outdone yourself on this night.

the act of anyone besides the king sitting on the throne was highly inappropriate, borderline treasonous.

following his brothers tragic accident, aemond had accepted role as prince regent. he was quite taken with his newfound role as ruler of the realm. the power, the authority he so desperately craved was now in the palm of his hand.

though, such authority didn’t seem to extend to his lady wife.

“warming my seat for me, are you ābrazȳrys?,” (wife) he teased, a smile etched on his face as he admired you from the bottom of the steps.

“pay mind to how you address me, my lord,” your eyes filled with mischief.

you felt his eyes drink in your appearance and you briefly felt a bit sheepish under his scrutiny.

suddenly feeling too exposed, you attempted to subtely adjust his jacket to cover your legs, the action not going unnoticed by your lord husband.

“forgive me, your grace,” he played along, bowing his head as he stood at the foot of the iron throne.

you cleared your throat, determined to maintain your regal persona. “i required your presence immediately. you have committed grave offenses this evening which cannot go unpunished.”

the feeling of sitting atop the icy chair sent a chill up your spine. the heady sensation of claiming yourself on the most coveted seat in the realm clouded your mind.

i can see why he enjoys this, you mused to yourself.

“may I ask which crime I am to answer for, your holiness?” aemond cocked his head, barely containing his smirk.

his bold little wife never failed to keep him on his toes.

“you arrived quite tardy to supper. even more so, you failed to greet me with a proper kiss upon your arrival. tsk, I believe I could have your head for this my lord.”

you felt yourself become more submerged in your role, any trepidations for your actions long gone.

with a bolt of confidence, you held his gaze while you slowly uncrossed your legs, revealing your bare center to him.

his eyes darkened at the sight of you, he could practically smell your arousal from where he stood.

so this is how we’re playing tonight, aemond felt himself stiffen in his breeches as he ascended a step toward you.

you may have started this game, but you both knew he would finish it.

“i’m deeply sorry, your grace. allow me to beg forgiveness for my wrong doings. anything you require.” his mind swirled with thoughts of taking you, perching you on his lap and filling your womb with seed on the throne.

you reveled in the predatory, lustful gaze of your husband. the most powerful man in the seven kingdoms at your mercy. or so you thought.

“i suppose there is a way to repent your crimes,” you reached for the first button and began to slowly release them one by one, revealing your hardened buds poking through your slip.

you might have been worried of someone else entering, but the euphoria of witnessing the effect you had on your husband clouded your better judgement.

unfastening the remaining button, you stood gracefully and let the fabric pool at your feet.

you were no targaryen. however aemond knew the fiery blood of the dragon coursed through your veins. no other lady of the court would play this dangerous game, would speak to him with such boldness.

he craved to taste you. he craved to grab at your soft flesh and indulge in the nectar between your legs.

the coolness of the metal seeped though your thin nightgown as you reclaimed your spot on the throne. your legs spread just wide enough you knew he could see the wetness seeping from your core.

daringly, your fingers floated down to your center. you began to rub circles on your clit, your lips parted as arousal fueled your fingers to continue.

he knew what you wanted, and was more than happy to oblige.

slowly and methodically, aemond approached you. meeting his lustful gaze, you watched as he lowered himself to his knees in front of you.

“may I, your grace?” he whispered, you could do nothing but nod as his fingers slowly ran up your exposed leg. his touch searing into your skin, you unconsciously spread your legs wider.

large hands roughly gripped the back of your knees, a low growl was all you heard before he dragged his warm, wet muscle through your dripping folds.

“gods,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt more arousal drip from your center and onto his devilish tongue.

“fuck you taste heavenly,” he drawled, suckling at your entrance, you gasped.

he set an unforgiving rhythm devouring your cunt.

lost in the throes of pleasure, your hands found purchase in his silver strands, tugging desperately whenever he applied pressure to your pearl.

if you weren’t disoriented by the assault on your cunny, you may have reddened at how quickly you could feel the coil in your belly about to snap.

“p-please my love. i’m close,” you begged, long forgetting the domineering facade you fabricated earlier.

fuck, you sound so pretty when you beg, his member hardened painfully watching your eyes fill with tears.

only sparing a moment away from your cunt, he commanded, “such a good girl for asking. go on, make a mess for me.”

with a final flick of his tongue, you cried out as you came undone. your body spasmed as the waves of your peak flowed through you.

soon, your body went limp and were close to falling back onto the swords behind you before you were scooped up by your husband.

draping his jacket over your frame, he quickly brought you to your shared chambers, making sure no eyes were present in the corridors.

lowering your body onto the bed, you were instantly met with fluffy blankets and you sighed in content.

expecting your husband to join you, you opened your eyes only to find him completely bare, looming over the bed. seeing him in all of his glory always seemed to stir something within you.

“i hope I am forgiven for my misdeeds from earlier?” you nodded.

he grinned and looked down to trace the patterns on the bed sheet, “do you think we are through, little wife? you didn’t think I would punish you for that little stunt you pulled?”

he grabbed your ankle and swiftly dragged you to the foot of the bed.

stunned by his sudden roughness, words escaped you as he grasped you by the chin and whispered “va ry izula, sir.”

(on all fours,now)

another mind dump of aemond, surprise surprise ;)

- alice

#hotd #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #hotd smut #aemond fic #aemond smut #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction

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sierrale8ne · 2 months ago

Text

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER TWO

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @patscorner @wbbgetsmewetter @makethemhoesmad @authentic-girl03 @rosemariiaa

kalena speakss 🪽! wanted to give yall another chapter tonight since college is kicking my butt atm and idk when the next update will be. hopefully soon tho!

May 2025 — Los Angeles, California

“I just don’t see why you keep acting like our relationship doesn’t matter. I'm tired of acting like it doesn’t piss me off.” Julian spoke, disrupting the peace I had created for myself as I got dressed in the bathroom.

We were supposed to be getting ready for the Sparks home opener game against the Dallas Wings. I was exhausted from getting into LAX at an ungodly hour of the night, and now the conversation was giving me a headache.

“Ju, are we together?”

“Yes—”

“Did you ask me to be your girlfriend?” I turn around, slipping the mini gold hoops in my hand into my ears.

“No, but—”

I cut him off before he gets the chance to defend his position. “Then we’re not together.” I sigh. “I like where this is going, I really do, but we can’t keep having this conversation, Julian. I’m tired of it. This is just the way my career is working out right now.”

“So what? You make more money when the public thinks you’re single?” Julian asks. He’s very visibly frustrated, as he has been since before I even stepped off the stage in New York.

“No. I make more money when I keep the main thing the main thing. And right now the main thing is my music.” The words bounce off the wall for a moment, silence cutting through the air. I feel bad. He really is a great guy, and I hate to put him in a position like this, but it’s the way it has to be. “Ju’ come on. You have to understand where I’m coming from. I’m sorry.”

My hand reaches out for his shoulder, attempting to lessen the blow. Instead he steps back from me, shaking his head with a huff and leaving the bathroom.

“Have fun at the game, ‘Raye.” He speaks as he leaves, and it’s my turn to huff.

I turned around. Looking intently at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

This is the closest thing I’ve had to a relationship in years, and yet, I’m spending the majority of it fighting over something dumb. But is it really dumb, or am I being insensitive?

I really do like Julian. He’s funny and sweet, he never fails to go out of his way to support me; I mean he just caught a flight to see me on Jimmy Fallon. He buys me flowers, he cares about communication, and all the little things. But for some reason I Just can’t keep up with it.

It sucks.

—

May 2025 — Crypto.com Arena, Los Angeles, California

The atmosphere in the arena is booming, and oddly enough I find myself surprised at how many people have filled Crypto. I’m seated courtside, underneath the basket nearest to The Sparks bench. The game is halfway through the first quarter and at a timeout when I take my seat.

I have on a burgundy leather set from Fashion Nova. The shirt is a cropped button up that I only fastened at the bottom button and matching shorts. I’m wearing a pair of matching burgundy Prada slingback pumps that my recent success has gratefully allowed me to purchase.

I sent a last minute text to my sister, telling her that Julian bailed and I would love it if she joined me, hence the slight tardiness.

I’ve never seen Cassie as excited as she is right now. She’s beaming with energy, you would’ve thought she’s been planning this for months rather than being invited last minute. She’s for sure more of a basketball fan than I am, I credit that to my uncle. Whereas my dad made me more of a football fan.

“You’re gonna be getting infinite Christmas gifts this year for this, oh my God.” Cassie jokes with a kool aid smile on her face. I giggle, brushing her off.

“I’m glad you’re having fun, Cassie.” I giggle, brushing her off playfully. My phone dings, and I pull it up from my lap to check the notification.

Hey I feel like shit about earlier

Talk when you get home?

It’s Julian. Of course it’s Julian. I try to fight the urge to frown but I can’t help the way the disheartened expression forms in my face. I shut my phone off, shaking the feeling off and turning back to the game.

The buzzer sounds, alerting us that the game is starting again. It allows me to finally bring my attention back to the game. The Sparks are down seven, but you couldn’t even tell that the fans were bothered by it.

“Jumbotron.” My sister whispers to me and I notice the camera moving past ‘celebrity row’ and getting shots of everyone.

“Bro.” I groan. I don’t hate it, it just gets so awkward. The camera man stays out there for too long and then I forget what to do with my hands.

But regardless, the camera approaches me and my sister. I look up briefly at the Jumbotron before back down at the camera in front of me. A smile spreads to my face and I wave emphatically. Fortunately it doesn’t take very long and the camera man backs away a little.

Only briefly though, because within a matter of seconds he’s crashing to the ground and his large camera falls into Casandra’s lap.

During all the basketball games I’ve ever watched, I’ve always wondered how common the players run into the media crew or the stands. And every time I've sat in an arena, I’ve always said it would never be me. So you can imagine my surprise when a 6 '1 Paige Bueckers fell right on me after getting fouled going for a layup, knocking over the camera man in the process.

“Oh shit, man you good?” Paige asks him. Her hand helps steady him on his feet and Cassie hands him his camera back, mumbling hurriedly if he was alright. The man nods, patting her on the back.

My eyes meet hers, and suddenly I’ve never seen a prettier set of eyes. A shade of blue that was indescribable. Her hand reaches out to the both of us, palms outstretched as she asks, “Are you guys okay?” It comes out as a stutter and I barely notice it but it’s there.

I nod. And then I remember she still has free throws to shoot. “Yeah. All good, thanks.” I smile. Paige turns around, brushing her teammates off with thumbs ups and high fives when they ask if she’s alright.

I would be an idiot to say that I wasn’t a little star struck. Sure, I wasn’t completely up to date with all things basketball, but I knew more than enough to know just how much Paige Bueckers was loved in the basketball community. Hell, the city of LA basically through a parade when they got that #1 overall pick.

She was a superstar, in all possible definitions of the word. You couldn’t go more than five minutes without seeing her face on TikTok or some commercial.

And she was stunning; the last five seconds of me staring at her confirmed it in my mind even more.

—

“Thanks, Holly.” I beam with a smile. It only takes a few seconds of me walking away from postgame to hear yelling in my ear and Cam’s long arms around my shoulders.

In the least cocky way possible, I played an amazing game. Yes, the defense I faced tonight was different than when I was at Connecticut and efficiency wise I did struggle a bit. Who am I kidding— I played phenomenal.

26 points 9 rebounds and 7 assists, the pick-and-roll with Dearica racking up many of those. The team came out with a narrow win over the Wings, getting our season off on the right foot.

“That’s my fuckin’ rook!” I hear Azura Stevens hype me up. I dap her up cleanly, the smile on my face physically impossible to get rid of. For only being on the team for a month, they did a great job of welcoming me with open arms.

I could definitely get used to this.

A towel hangs around my neck, picking up all the sweat from the game. I’m walking towards the locker rooms with a few of my teammates when I get pulled back for some autographs. I don’t say no, honestly I can’t remember the last time I refused to sign an autograph. Or if I ever did.

There’s a young girl in front of me alongside her mom. She has on the UConn National Championship shirt from a month ago, her eyes wide as she pushes my sparks jersey up to me. I sign it with a smile, my heart swelling in size when she squeals and thanks me profusely.

“You’re welcome. Thanks for coming out!” I grin. My feet carry me through a few more fans. I sign all sorts of memorabilia from hoodies, to jerseys, phone cases, and shoes. As well as a wild number of selfies before I hear my name.

“Paige, come here!” It’s Rickea, as her voice has become widely recognizable in the last month that I’ve been here. “Oh my God, walk slower!”

I roll my eyes as I pick up my pace. She’s standing courtside with her warmups on. “Finally. I wanted you to meet a friend of mine. Maraye, this is Paige.”

When I look over it’s the girl from the TV last night, standing there with her purse in hand and— oh my God I ran into her like an hour ago. I fell into her lap. Oh my God this is embarrassing.

She looks even more gorgeous than when I was drooling over her last night. Her hair is the same, from what I can remember, but her outfit is completely different. The color she has on is similar to the one from last night, but the set shows off so much more skin. Her legs are toned, the top she wears is unbuttoned just enough to give me a show of the lace black bralette under it, and her gold septum shines in the arena light.

“Hey.” I greeted her and the girl who sat next to her earlier in the night. “I do apologize about earlier by the way.”

“Don’t worry about it. It happens.” She reassures me.

“P, Cam, and I were watching the show last night. You did great, Raye.” Rickea pushes at Maraye’s shoulder. My eyes catch how she blushes in response.

“You on a world tour or something? New York last night, and LA tonight.” I joke, and she laughs. Her laugh is possibly more angelic than her singing, and the way her accent popped out when she spoke might even have an edge on that.

“Nah. I just couldn’t miss opening night. Kea’ would never let me live it down, plus my sister is like a huge hoops fan.” She explains, gesturing to the two women next to us.

I’m towering over her as I look at her but she still keeps eye contact with me. My eyes never leave hers, I didn’t even want them to.

“I was just telling her about Cam and Ben’s dinner party on friday.” Rickea starts. She turns to face me, but I’m still stuck on Maraye and her— well her everything. Rickea swats my arm as slyly as she can to get my attention. My eyes rip away from the musician with an incredulous force. “You are going to that, right?”

“I, uh, I’m not sure. I gotta check on when Drew and my dad are coming to town.”

“Maybe I’ll see you there then?” Maraye speaks.

Someone please help me figure out why her eyes are so mesmerizing. They’re big and a perfect shade of brown. The slight tilt of her head when she asks me nearly drives me crazy.

“Yeah maybe.” I nod before looking at Rickea. I don’t know how long we’ve stood here, but what I do know is that coach will hand our asses to us on a silver platter if we’re late to the first media session of the season. “Yo, we gotta…” My head tilts towards the tunnel.

“Oh shit you’re right. It was so good to see you guys!” She jumps, pulling Maraye and her sister into a group hug. “Tell y’all folks I say hi!”

The four of us exchange waves and we walk off the court. By the time we make it to the tunnel Rickea is letting out a loud cackle and pushing me away from her. “You’re not even trying to hide it!” She laughs. I know exactly what she’s talking about but I act clueless, it’s too early for my teammates to be ridiculing me over my choices in women.

“You are sooooo going to that dinner party.”

A smirk spreads on my face and I roll my eyes. For the first time all month, I can’t even disagree. Nothing is stopping me from going to that dinner party.

#sierrale8ne #kalena’s works ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅#paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #uconn wbb #la sparks #lesbian #my fic #40 days and 40 nights

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 8 months ago

Text

I've been dreaming of my First Friend.

In this strange new world, nothing is certain—not even one’s safety.

But through it all, you were with me. Always by my side.

Please don’t leave me behind.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

"Grrr...! This stupid thing won't close," Grim complains. He fumbles with the buttons on his robes, which refuse to be secured.

"That's because you've got two left thumbs... or, more accurately, no thumbs at all," his human companion teases. They crouch down, gesturing for him. "Here, I'll help you."

"Myahaha, that's my minion!" Grim scrambles over on all fours—definitely not like a cat. He's far more dignified than some glorified house pet or familiar.

"You're going to get your clothes dirty if you walk around like that," they scold him lightly as they cinch his robes shut, then dusts him off. They pause, going in to adjust his waistband, then the angle of his cap. "There you go." "All set for your big day."

"Our big day," Grim corrects, nudging them on the cheek with his paw. "We're a 2-for-1 deal, remember?"

"Right. Me and the almighty Grim-sama," they reply with a laugh, poking his little nose.

An ear-splitting sob disrupts the intimate scene. Three ghosts in top hats and gray cloaks sail in—one small, one plump, one scrawny—all wailing.

"I can't believe this day's finally arrived!"

"Grimmy and Prefect, all grown up... Off to tackle Twisted Wonderland head-on..."

"WAAAAH, I'm gonna miss my living roomies!!"

"Hey, hey, what's with the empty nest syndrome, guys?" The prefect huddles with the ghosts. They cannot physically touch, but the same energy is there, their arms lingering where the ghosts’ bodies float.

“B-But…!”

“Don't worry. No matter the time or place, we'll carry the spirit of Ramshackle dorm with us wherever we go.“ They smile sympathetically. “That means you’ll always be with us! This world, this life… and into the next.”

"D-Do you really think friendships can last more than a lifetime?" one ghost asks through his tears.

"For sure. So please… Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened. Can you do that for us?”

“O-Okay,” the trio blubbers and sniffles.

“Geez, you’re all a buncha babies,” Grim sighs, paws on his hips. “C’mon, we’re supposed to be celebratin’ US today!! Like my minion said, let’s see some smiles, yeah?”

“We’ll come see you off at the ceremony the,” the small ghost suggests. The cheer is strained, like he is holding back a torrent of tears.

"The ceremony…” The prefect’s eyes go wide and panicked. “Oh crap, we're going to be late! The headmaster should already be starting his speech...!"

"Not a problem, leave it to this Grim-sama. A teleportation spell's easy as takin' a tuna can from a kitten!"

"Sorry, guys. Gotta run...! We'll see you there?"

Grim expertly clambers onto the prefect's neck, making himself comfortable as a boa on their shoulders. The magestone dangling from his neck lights up, and the duo are enveloped in its glow.

The last sight before they blip away are the ghosts, waving good-bye with wet eyes.

A blink later, the two are among a crowd of students in the same uniform as them. Long robes, graduation caps affixed to their heads. They're lined up behind a stage, the curtain stained the dark sapphire of a night sky and dotted with sparkling stars.

Crowley's voice drones from the other side, amplified by a microphone. A waiting crowd murmurs appreciatively as he crows on about hard work, congratulations, and new beginnings.

"See?" Grim winks at his minion. "What'd I tell ya? Anything’s a cinch with my magic~”

"Great going, archmage-in-the-making. You really saved our butts," they say, ruffling his fur. “Come to think of it, were running late for our first day too… and the sorting ceremony before that. I guess we’re destined to be tardy together, huh, Grim?”

"Heh, you got that right!" He bumped his tiny fist with his partner's. “Let’s keep at it, you ‘n me! Grim-sama and his loyal minion, together forever.”

"Oiiiii! Grim, Prefect!!"

"Oh, that’s..."

They glance up, finding a group of boys making their way toward them in the crowd. One with a heart etched onto his face, the other, a spade. A wolf beastman, another with reptilian eyes and slicked back hair, trailed by a smaller, delicate boy and an android with a head of blue flames. Old friends from the other dorms.

"There you are. We thought we'd missed you." Deuce calls out, looking relieved.

"Idiot, we wouldn’t have missed them—you worried for nothin’. They're first on the chopping block cuz they're sooo special." Ace rolls his eyes. "Lu~cky. You get to show off and hog the spotlight before anyone else does.”

"We um... wanted to come and say good luck," Epel offers. "It's a big deal to have made it this far. Starting a new life in an unfamiliar world and all, it's a lot."

"Thanks, everyone. I really couldn't have made it these past few years without your support."

"Ah-HEM!" Grim coughs.

"... And Grim," the prefect added, scratching him behind the ears.

"This is really it, then." Jack is blunt, his arms folded. "Our last chapter at Night Raven College."

"Hmph! Is that all you have to say?! Surely you can muster up more oomph than that!! Today is not just that--it is the start of the rest of our lives." Sebek straightens, looking rather proud.

"Hmm..." Ortho taps at his chin contemplatively. "You know what? When words are not enough to express ourselves, action may be the next best thing!"

"... Wait, what exactly are you suggesting?" Ace asks suspiciously, an eyebrow raised.

"A group hug! For one final sendoff."

Sebek is the first to protest, his voice cutting through loud and clear. "I refuse!! There is absolutely NO WAY I am engaging in physical intimacy with you humans!"

"Not so hot on the idea either."

Ace and Deuce warily stare at each other. "Not happening," they chorus at the same time.

"Well, if the others don't want to, then..." Epel trails off.

"Guys, shut up and group hug already," the prefect groans, throwing their arms around their friends. Reluctant grumbles round the group, but no one makes an active effort to peel away.

“GACK!!” Grim chokes out, crushed between everyone’s chests. When their bodies recede, he collapses, vision spinning, seeing stars.

“Hahah, looks like Grim got flattened like a pancake,” Ace jeers. “Still got it in ya to waltz on stage after that?”

“C-Can it!! Of course I do!” he snaps back.

The timing is opportune. Right then, Crowley’s speech reaches them, a summons.

“… We will now begin calling up our students to receive their diplomas, starting with Ramshackle Dorm.”

“Looks like that’s our cue, Grim.”

“Let’s get goin’!!”

The prefect steps back and passes one final look to their peers. People from many different places, many different backgrounds. United at last.

“Go.”

They do.

Clutching onto their graduation cap, the prefect races up the steps from the wings. Grim bounding along by their side. Every stride equal against the other’s.

Like shooting stars, they’ve come so far. They can’t go back to where they used to be.

When they emerge from the darkness, they’re hit with bright sunshine and stage lights. Spring is in full bloom, welcoming them with balmy weather and armfuls of flowers.

The headmaster beams from behind a podium, gesturing for them to approach. In his grasp, two scrolls secured with navy ribbons.

Their diplomas.

“Presenting Grim and the Prefect, our special students sharing the spot of Valedictorian.”

Grim squeals, soaked up the adoration. He waves at the audience, flashes silly poses for the cameras. The prefect laughs, prodding him along with their hands.

“Come on, let’s not stall the ceremony for everyone else.”

“One moment.”

A smallish figure blocks their path. It’s a young man with crimson hair and heart-shaped ahoge. He holds out his hand--and the prefect, stunned, takes it.

"Riddle-senpai. You've returned."

"Prefect. Grim." He politely greets them, shaking their hands in turn. "May the Queen of Hearts and her spirit of strictness guide you as you cross this threshold in life. Remain disciplined, and I know you will both achieve even greater things."

Riddle releases, and another seizes their hands. This shake is rougher, looser.

"Congrats, you survived four years at this place," Leona purrs. He wears less of a smile and more of a bemused smirk. "Persisted, like the King of Beasts did."

His duty done, he casually drops them. Azul elegantly ducks in, his grasp firm and tone professional.

"Fufu. What an honor it is to reunite like this. Your benevolence has done much to improve our dear Night Raven College. The Sea Witch would surely extol your generosity."

"Prefect, Grim!!"

Azul steps back with a bow, making space for the next person.

Kalim practically collides with them, excitedly yanking their hands up and down as he chatters. "So good to see you again!! Gahahah, you haven't changed a bit! I bet you're much wiser now though--maybe just as mindful as the Sorcerer of the Sands was!”

Behind him, someone clears their throat. Awareness hits him and Kalim gasps, letting go of the graduates.

"It takes considerable tenacity to arrive at this milestone,” Vil says, clasping the prefect and Grim’s hands in his own. Then, he smiles ever so slightly. “… Be proud, potatoes. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed by the Beautiful Queen.”

He steps aside, allowing a gloomy, hooded figure to replace him. Idia grimaces, shielding his eyes from the lights glaring down at him.

“Tch… Dragged me out here for this,” he mutters, keeping his clammy, pale hands shoved squarely into his hoodie pockets.

A pause—and Idia managed an anxious smile. “GG or whatever. I guess even an amateur can clear hard levels if they’re diligent enough. The King of the Underworld was a noob at one point too.”

(“Is that really the most encouraging thing you could muster?” Vil tuts from the sidelines.)

With that, Idia shuffles off, joining the other ex-dorm leaders.

“Nyahahah, it feels nice to be recognized~” Grim snickers.

“Well, I certainly hope you haven’t had your fill yet.”

A frigid touch comes upon the prefect and Grim’s hands. That voice, like sudden nightfall. They find themselves staring up at a colossal shadow with leering green eyes, scales studding their forehead.

"M-Myah?!” Grim’s fur stands on end.

“Even you came, Tsunotaro!!” the prefect gasps.

“I wouldn’t miss this ceremony for the world,” Malleus smoothly reassures them. “I wished to lend my support to my dear friends and send them off with my blessing.”

He raises his arms to the open sky. Bright blue, barely a cloud in it. Sunlight pouring down, framing the ceremony in a golden spotlight.

“The Thorn Fairy’s utmost value is nobility. As you of the new generation sally forth into the world, let your souls shine as noble and true as her own.“

Uproarious applause rises, cheering and clapping combining into one frantic melody. The flowers blush, swelling large and healthy with color. The sun itself seems to brighten too, the wind lifting in a joyous, effervescent song.

“Congratulations...!!”

“Waaaah, Tsunotaro made the whole world light up!” Grim cries, eyes sparkling. “Heheh, okay, that’s a pretty good one—but watch out cuz one day I’ll be one of the top 5 strongest, most charismatic mages too!”

“Fufufu. I look forward to that day.”

Malleus bends down, his lips puling back to reveal luminous teeth.

“May you never be apart,” he whispers, so quiet that no one hears. Then, more loudly, “Congratulations. I wish you all a happily ever after.”

“I dunno what you’re goin’ on about, but thanks for hypin’ us up!!” Grim grins from ear to ear. “Today’s definitely… the best day ever!”

“I’m glad of it.”

And may it remain that way, forevermore.

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buckys-loverman · 1 year ago

Text

Teacher’s Pet- Jeremiah Fisher

What would you do for a higher grade?

warnings: smut, finger banging, 18+ appropriate, slight degrading kink, vulgar language

pairing: fem!reader x jeremiah fisher

A/N: i am back baby!! sorry for taking forever to upload, was having issues with uploading on tumblr but im so happy to be back writing for you guys. i will be uploading a conrad story within the next couple days so stay tuned!

“Mr. Fisher please!” You trailed behind your physics TA, begging for his assistance on the upcoming exam.

“I told you to call me Jeremiah.” He sighed, pushing his hair back as he continued to pace down the hallway, leaving you to jog behind him in order to catch up.

You reached out to touch his arm, “Jeremiah then-” He turned around suddenly almost causing you to crash into his chest, “30 minutes is all I need with you to help me with the review.”

He looked around for other students as he lowered his voice, “This is the third time you’ve been late to office hours, and I can’t keep giving you special treatment for being tardy. Don’t do it again.”

Before you could respond, he turned back around in a quick motion and continued down the hallway, calling your name to follow him to the library.

A burst of excitement spiked through your body as you gladly followed behind him, not complaining as you got extra tutoring time with him.

Jeremiah wasn’t aware that you had been purposely late to office hours in order to get his undivided and uninterrupted attention. You always made the excuse that office hours “overlapped” with your other classes in order for him to feel some form of pity for you.

For who would turn down such a good student?

The study room in the corner of the library was always empty as it was the only one without a white board, but instead a window overlooking the campus. Because of that, Jeremiah was forced to always write down his practice problems in your notebook directly next to you.

You scribbled down your responses to the force & gravity unit questions in your textbook when you notice Jeremiah scanning your body over your answers. In a quick motion, you push back on your chair as you reach for your backpack on the ground, arching your back as you stretch forward with your back to him.

Jeremiah clears his throat as he shifts in his chair, moving his gaze away from you as he returns back to your textbook, seeing what you had previously written down.

“You’ve been doing great this past semester, it doesn’t seem like you need my help?” He states, leaning back into his chair as he scans between your eyes.

You slightly smile as you began to pull your hair back, “I do-” You respond with a naive tone, “I’ve been struggling with force.” Your button up shirt stretched tight against your chest as you put your hair in a ponytail, causing Jeremiah’s eyes to drop for a split second before quickly returning to your face.

You lean forward in your chair, slightly exposing the top of your white mesh bra as you stare with purposeful doe eyes, “I don’t think I’ve had enough examples.” You pout.

Jeremiah’s body tenses up for a second but quickly disappears as his eyes darken. He leans forward, placing a hand on your chair as he analyzes your face; “Are you playing dumb with me?”

A slight smirk tempted to slip from your mouth, “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say Mr. Fisher-” you begin to say when a warm hand grips at the bottom of your face, a small gasp escaping from your mouth.

“I told you not to call me that.” His voice was lower than before as he stood tall above you, his eyes sweeping your body without shame. “What are you willing to do for a good grade?” Jeremiah taunts, his fingers trailing down to your neck.

“Anything.” You whisper, maintaining eye contact as his fingers slowly begin to wrap around your neck, mimicking the same firm hold he had on your face just moments before.

Jeremiah lifts your body up, shoving it against the table you were once working on. In a swift motion he grabs the back of your head as the two of your lips combine, rhythmically moving against each other with a newfound force.

Your fingers tangle in his curls, slightly tugging at the ends as a small moan escapes his mouth, giving him more motivation as he makes his way down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses behind.

“Students like you learn best through examples- ”His fingers unbutton your top, exposing the rest of your bra that you teased earlier, “So I’ll make sure to teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”

Jeremiah yanks at your wrist as he pulls you towards the window, slamming your chest to the glass. Your nipples hardened against the cool glass, a sense of panic overwhelmed your body as you see an array of students down below, walking to class or talking amongst their peers.

“What if someone sees?” You question as your mouth felt dry and your head felt dizzy as his fingers trail from the strap of your bra, down to curve of your stomach up until his fingers move their way below your skirt.

“Then everyone will know what a dirty little slut you are for the TA.” Jeremiah whispers in your ear, as his fingers begin to rub slow and sensual circles on top of your clit, the fabric of your underwear beginning to feel suffocating.

The shame you once felt before washed away as moans left your mouth, your head tossing back onto his shoulder as his warm body pressed into yours from behind. The cold from the glass and the heat from his fingers was the perfect combination, your body felt electric between the two.

His fingers moved slowly down your underwear, “God you’re so fucking wet-” Another moan escaped from your mouth as he slowly and painfully moved along your clit, “And here I thought you were a good girl.” You could hear the cockiness drip from his tongue.

“I am.” You whined, your back arching in an attempt to get more friction, only to be met with the feeling of his erection, and did it feel big.

You felt a slap on your clit as you yelped, “Don’t speak out of turn. You got that, princess?” His harsh tone sent butterflies through your stomach as you simply nodded, letting him return his attention back to you.

Jeremiah moved your underwear to the side as he slid one finger inside of you. Another loud moan escaped your mouth as you felt just how long his finger really is, and how well he knew how to use it.

The finger began twisting inside of you, pumping in and out as sloppy sounds echoed throughout the room, your body beginning to overheat as you spread your legs wider.

“Good girl.” He purred, placing a second finger inside of you. The new found sensation overtaking your balance as you pushed yourself deeper into the glass, your nipples peaking through the mesh bra and on display for anybody who simply looked up.

Everything seemed to begin to blur, the pleasure spreading throughout your body as you begin approaching your high. Jeremiah yanks your hair back as his lips meet your ear; beginning to lick and suck as he finds all your sweet spots.

He’s consistent, both of his fingers continue to pump in and out of you in a fast motion, his thumb reaching to draw circles on your clit, “Jere.” Is all you can manage to say as his teeth tug at the bottom of ear.

“Cum for me, darling.”

His words work as a command as your body cannot handle anymore of the pleasure, your legs start to shake beyond control as the heat in your stomach burns stronger than before, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head as you experience the strongest high of your life.

Your vision blurs as the sensation overtakes your body, causing you to cum hard on his fingers, giving him the satisfaction he knew he would get from you.

As you begin to adjust back to normal you turn around to see Jeremiah leaning against the table, your textbook untouched behind him, as he intensely licks his fingers where your cum visibly stained.

“Wether you pass the exam or not, I expect to see you back here next week.” He smirks, “For I still have much to teach you.”

—————————————————————————

YALL jere is a slut and no one can tell me otherwise!! this last episode got me giggling & kicking my feet now that i have inspiration for some new stories… ;)

#fisher boys #jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher smut #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty x reader #tsitp imagine #tsitp jeremiah #tsitp x reader #tsitp x y/n #tsitp #tsitp season 2 #tsitp s2 #tsitpbookseries #jeremiah x reader #team jeremiah

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the-fiction-witch · 6 months ago

Text

Illusion P2

Media - Doctor Who (The Lodger Episode) Character - The Doctor (11th) Couple - The Doctor X Reader Reader - Y/n (Companion) Rating - Smut! Word Count - 2808

"Doctor..." Y/n gasps between kisses,

The Doctor's breathing was laboured when he pulled back from the kiss. He looked down at her as she gasped and his gaze instantly went to her swollen red lips, staring at them with an intense look in his eyes. "... Y/n... You have no idea what you're doing to me-"

she gasped hard "... You uhhh you don't have to keep kissing me now he's gone you know,"

The Doctor's expression darkened slightly, he seemed almost disappointed to hear her say that. He gently reached up and gently caressed her face and gave a slight chuckle. The look in his eyes was something she had never seen before. "You really think I'm just kissing you because we're pretending?" He gently began to nibble on her neck a bit.

she blushed hard "I think you really are becoming more human ... But... I'm not complaining" she smiled

His hands gently went down to her hips and he gently began to grind her against his lap a little bit, still nibbling and kissing her neck a little roughly. "Oh, you shouldn't complain about me being human... I'm about to get a lot more human than you can imagine." His teeth gently bit down onto the lobe of her ear.

she moaned and shifted her hips to grind without his assistance, his hands running up her tights and pushing up her dress as they returned to the kiss "I've never seen you like this before... Didn't think time lords... Got … horny" she whispered

As she ground on him, he growled lowly. "Oh... oh believe me. I'm extremely... horny. You have no idea how much self-control I'm struggling to hold over myself right now." He leaned in and began to kiss and bite her throat roughly at her words.

she gasped and moaned a little "This all because you've been down here acting human for a few days? Or do you struggle with self-control around me in the Tardis too?" She asked between kisses as she pealed the suspenders off his shoulders and began undoing his shirt buttons

"You... have no idea how hard it is to act normal around you." He mumbled in between bites before kissing up her jaw and back to her lips, kissing her roughly and slipping his tongue into her mouth.

"how hard is it?" She teased her words having a double meaning as she returned to the make out her tounge battling with his

He moaned softly into the kiss before pulling back just slightly to speak. "You'll find out just how hard it is soon enough." He replied before leaning back down and kissing her again, his hands gripping onto her tightly as his fingers started kneading into her legs. He was getting more and more flustered by the second but he just didn't care. All he wanted was her.

she deepened their kisses even further and wrapped her arms around his shoulders grinding her hips some more, and as she did he forced her down on her back flipping them from her sitting in his lap to him hovering over her never once breaking to her kiss, she moans at the feeling of being pinned to the bed by him,

The Doctor groaned lowly when she moaned and wrapped a leg around him. He could feel the heat in his gut flaring up and his erection was starting to get uncomfortable in his pants very quickly as he kept up his end of the kiss. One of his hands started to slowly slide up her thigh and under her dress, while the other was pressing into the mattress beside her head.

she pulled back moaning his name and she made eye contact "How far do you want this to go?"

He leaned down and began to leave a trail of kisses down from her jawline to her neck. "That depends... how far do you want this to go?" He mumbled into her neck, gently biting down on it every so often. His hand that was still on her thigh was getting very close to her crotch, only a few inches away now.

She twisted her fingers into his hair and moaned "I asked you first" she teased

The Doctor shivered a little as her fingers got tangled in his hair, enjoying the feeling of her tugging on it. He slowly moved down her neck and began to focus on her collarbone instead "I'll follow your boundaries. There's not a single thing I would do without you completely consenting." He mumbled before suddenly biting down on her collarbone, not hard enough to hurt her but hard enough to make her gasp.

"there not much I wouldn't consent to right now..." She gasped

He smirked against her skin and started kissing along her collar bone again. "And there's not a limit to what I want to do to you... but we've got all night, we can stop whenever we want to."

"humm tell me something wild and ... Unpredictable doctor" she teased him throwing her head back "Beyond kissing, touching and grinding, something wild close to the edge of your limits you want to do" she whispered

His smirk against her skin widened as she said that and his fingers slid up that final few inches until they pressed on the damp spot right on the front of panties He started to slowly and gently press circles into the front of her panties, his breath getting shallower as he did so. He started whispering into her ear with each circle he pressed. "I want to... make you mine. Make you completely and utterly mine... I want all of your moans, your gasps, your sounds and faces."

"Doctor!" She moaned

The Doctor shivered when she moaned out his name, starting to press harder into her. He started to bite the edge of her ear as he spoke. "You're driving me wild, Y/n... I can't hold you close enough... I can't seem to kiss you long enough..."

she giggled "You never answered me... Tell me something unexpected you desire doctor, and I'll make us even closer" She smirked sitting up a little and pulling off her dress and peeling off her tights leaving her in her blue lace bra and panties

He stared down at her as she took off her dress and tights and his eyes widened slightly when he realized she was left in Tardis blue. His tongue slid out and licked his lips a bit as he stared at her, taking in her beauty. "Oh, you clever girl..." His one hand slid up her waist to her bra. "I want... I want to... keep you. Forever." He mumbled, gently running his fingers up the back of her bra, looking her in the eyes as he finally undid the clasp with a bit of a flick of his fingers.

she playfuly sqealed as the clasp was undone "your a time lord, I'm sure there is some science that could allow you to keep me forever" she cooed throwing her head back and moaning as he kissed down her neck and pulled the bra off her with his teeth

"Forever and ever..." He mumbled, kissing her neck for a moment before pulling back as the bra came off. He gently slipped the bra off her arms and began to kiss down her chest, gently nibbling at her skin between kisses. "Mmm, oh, I'm sure they have... but I don't think they have anything quite like... what I have in mind." His fingers gently slid down her side as he said that. He wrapped his other arm around her waist, gently pinning her to the bed and leaning down to kiss over one of her breasts. His tongue slipped out and

"doctor!" She squeals

He grinned against her skin. "Mmm, Y/n..." His teeth gently bit down on one of her nipples, gently tugging at it

"AHH!" She whined in pain

The Doctor immediately lifted his head with a worried look in his eyes. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?" He asked quickly, his expression going from slightly sadistic to concerned in a split second.

"teeth might be too hard, hands are fine but your teeth are sharp"

"Oh, I'm so sorry." He said softly, giving her breast a small peck as an apology. "I forgot that I have very sharp teeth... I'll be more careful... but my fingers will work just as well."

she nodded and pulled him back to kiss her

He kissed her back, gently cupping her breast with his hand as he kissed her. He kept the kiss gentle, keeping a mental note to not bite her skin with his teeth again. His fingers gently ran over her skin before gently kneading into her breast, trying to find the exact way to touch her that she would like. He soon found it after tugging and rubbing her nipple as she moaned loudly squeezing her legs around him, He broke away from the kiss and looked down at her. Hearing her moan and squeeze her legs around him made something snap in him "Do you have any idea... what you do to me right now?"

she shook her head as she gasped

He growled lowly and let a few swears out before he gently pushed her back down onto the bed and leaned over her. "I want you. Now."

"no complaints from me... But two requests"

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting between her eyes and her lips. "Oh, really...? What kind of requests then?"

"I think we should get a towel so we don't make a wet sweaty mess of your bed here" she smiled half serious and half to tease him

His lip twitched into a small smirk. "I might have actually thought about that, give me one second." He bent down and gave her a quick kiss before pushing off the bed and walking over to one of the cupboards. He bent down and rummaged around for a moment before standing back up with a light blue towel.

she giggled laying it on the bed for them to lay over "The only issue with this is you won't be able to take your stained sheets to the laundry to show off" she smirked

He rolled his eyes in amusement. "Oh shush, do you always have to tease me?" He asked jokingly as he approached the bed, unbuttoning his trousers with a small grin.

she bit her lip excitedly but she rested a hand on his stomach as he stood by the bed "I have one more request"

He stopped unbuttoning his trousers and looked down at her with a raised eyebrow. A slight smirk was still across his lips just barely and he looked curious. "Another request? What is it then?"

she teased him by tugging down his trousers and boxers "oohh doctor" she moaned at the sight of him as she began kissing his erection, lapping at his skin and sucking a little

He immediately groaned when she started kissing him, feeling her breath on his skin. "Y/n..." His fingers slid into her hair, gently running through it and tugging at it as he stared down at her, his hips already trying to twitch toward her and get more friction on his skin.

she pulled back and kissed him one last time "my request... Is just that you make sure to ... You know" she cooed as she laid down on the bed "I love you doctor but... I don't really want a half-timelord baby right now"

He laughed softly. "I am more than capable of pulling out." He mumbled, kissing her gently for a few seconds before leaning back, crawling his way up her body with a grin that looked vaguely predatory. He grabbed her legs and pulled her so that she was laying down at the top of the bed with her legs spread around him and her knees on his shoulders as he stared down at her. "You look beautiful like this... with your hair spread out on my pillows, all splayed out for me to see." He mumbled softly.

"I have a feeling that ... I'm going to have to get use to looking like this when we are back on the Tardis"

He grinned and slowly ground down into her, letting out a groan at the friction. "Oh yes... you most certainly will."

"I have visions of it... On your bed, the library sofa, the pool, the kitchen counters... Maybe even the console room floor" she teased grinding with each suggestion

He growled lowly as his eyes fluttered as she ground back into him, his fingers gripping her hips. "You're going to get that and more, my lovely Y/n..."

"I'm sure I will ..." She blushed "maybe even when you take me to Galifray you could have sex with me there too" she teased him

His eyes widened, he had not been expecting her to say that. His mind immediately went to several different things, his Tardis, the forest of the Untempered Schism, the citadel... his home. His mind was very distracted for a couple seconds before he shook his head and started to laugh. "Oh... you will be the death of me..."

"will I?" She giggled

"Oh yes... that you will." He leaned in and kissed her deeply. He moaned into the kiss, one hand running down her leg and wrapping it around his waist.

Y/n blushed and kissed back,

as finally, he tugged off her panties leaving nothing between them, He broke the kiss with a soft gasp and looked down at her, his eyes darkened and filled with lust as he started to slowly grind into her. "Oh... you are absolutely breathtaking, my darling."

she blushed, and giggled before she pulled him into another kiss and her hand stroked his erection "so? You going to make me yours or wait all night?"

He immediately moaned into the kiss and pushed into her hand, his hands tightening slightly on her hips as he did so. "Oh... I am going to make you mine..." He mumbled He pulled away from her for a moment, just long enough to grab a pillow. He held her still for a moment, just long enough to push the He pushed the pillow under her hips, angling her up slightly. "Perfect... absolutely perfect..." He mumbled with darkening eyes.

she giggled excitedly As she did that he slowly pushed into her, his head fell forward so his forehead was on her shoulder and he groaned into her skin.

"Oh..."

"Doctor!" She squealed her hand on his stomach

He froze for a moment when she squealed, a small smile pulled at his lips as he started to kiss her shoulder. "Mmm, my beautiful Y/n..." His hips started to move slowly, pulling out and pushing back into her

she moaned loudly her head thrown back in utter ecstasy

He kept his kisses on her shoulder, pulling on a particular patch of her skin with a gentle bite before soothing it over with his lips and tongue. He leaned up as she tossed her head back and his own moans mingled with hers and his free arm wrapped around her waist. "Oh, you feel like pure paradise, my darling..."

she couldn't even make words just moans of his name over and over, her mouth open, her eyes rolled back, her head thrown back, her body arching and convulsing in sudden pleasures

He stared at her face and her body's movements, absolutely entranced by the way she looked in the heat of the moment. His own moans and groans were low and husky, growing deeper as the heat and passion between them rose. "Oh... that's it, my darling, come undone for me..." he groaned as he moved faster, harder and more merciless on her. Their kisses intense and full of moans, the bed banging hard against the walls.

She grabbed his arms hard digging her nails in and squeezing her legs around his waist as she threw her head back and tightened around him as she hit her orgasm,

The meer feeling of being inside her when she did was enough for him too as he quickly pulled out sending his seed onto the towel just beside her thigh.

And suddenly both were a mess of gasping and sweat, The doctor laid down on the bed beside Y/n the two for a while just gathering their breath and strength.

“I think that sold the illusion,” She nodded,

“Yeah… I think so,” he chuckled, “But… the rest isn’t an illusion, I really did mean it all,”

“I know you did,” she smiled, “So… once this human pretending is over? Things will go back to normal.”

“With one exception my darling,” He cooed, "Our kisses, our cuddles, and... more will continue if you wanted them to?"

"I want them to," she nodded,

"did you maybe... want to scrap the illusion and just be my girlfriend?"

"I'd like that very much,"

"So would I," he smiled pulling her back into a kiss,

Tag Requests -

@mushycore

#eleventh doctor #the doctor #doctor #doctor who #doctorwho #matt smith x reader #mattsmith #the doctor x reader #doctor x reader #11th doctor x reader #11thdoctor #11th #11th doctor

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izvmimi · 1 year ago

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our time - izuku x reader

cw: minors dni, fem!reader, reader implied to be a hero & high school sweetheart, oral sex (fem receiving), penetrative sex, public sex, hot tub sex, shower sex, sex toy use, safe word use, rapid shifts between humor, smut, and hurt/comfort, lots of cheesy jokes tbh, deku is a little bit sassy, bakugou and shinsou have unnamed female partners, baby mention. summary: you and izuku share a yearly tradition. a/n: i'm reposting this hella self-indulgent selfship fic because i can!

“This is a lot of packing for a two day trip,” Izuku teases, as you hand him your overstuffed suitcase, the same dark green typical of his merchandise. He places it next to his noticeably lighter one, which coincidentally is a deep purple and has your Hero name plastered all over it.

“Yeah, but I’m guessing you want to see me in as many outfits as possible in a 48 hour period, right?” you tease back, tapping him gently on the nose. He leans in as he presses the rear door close button to the SUV, then grins.

In a low voice, he whispers, “that’s quite a bit of clothing for me to tear off. Are you sure?”

Your face warms and you hate that you never win at this game, but try to come up with something quick to say.

“I’ll be swiping your card indiscriminately to replace anything you ruin this year,” you add, eyes lowering to where your finger is prodding his chest. His eyes seem to twinkle.

“Sounds like I need to make more money then.”

He’s won this round. The warmth spreads to your ears and reflexively you hit his shoulder. His grin widens and you slip from his gaze to run to the passenger side of the car. No more time for banter.

“We’re gonna be late, Izuku!"

Bakugou has given you clear instructions to pick up the keys to your shared vacation home between 6 to 7 pm and will give you absolutely no room for tardiness. You anticipate that he’ll make all manners of disgusted facial expressions when you show up to his place, given that he knows exactly what you’ll be doing for the next 48 hours, and you are still trying to decide whether or not you should play along and double down or admit that you’re a little embarrassed ever since you started this tradition.

Or at least that you’re embarrassed your closest friends are aware of what exactly this tradition entails.

Izuku, on the other hand, never has any shame it seems. If anything, he’s a little overeager for this “retreat” this year, and it’s almost certainly because the past few weeks at work were nothing short of a nightmare for him. Catastrophes that seemed to only prop up as far as humanly possible from you seemed to be the order of the day recently, and you hadn’t had time for dedicated physical intimacy in a while, let alone even see him between missions. The only thing that made it easier to tolerate his absence was that you fell asleep so fast these days due to exhaustion that you barely noticed his side of the bed stayed empty the entire night.

As he drives, possibly a little too fast and somewhat recklessly (frankly unexpected for a person like him), he holds your hand with varying levels of tightness as though he’s playing with the feel of your hands in his - remembering it, reacquainting himself. He doesn’t say much yet but you can tell by the look in his eye and the twitch in his lips (controlling his urge to talk under his breath), that he’s daydreaming. You have an idea what of.

Pervert.

“What are you thinking of, Izuku?” you inquire after a moment. The goal of the statement is to disarm him which only works half the time.

“Sex,” he replies, bluntly. He doesn’t turn to look at you, focusing on the road carefully, but his fingers tighten again around yours as you pull away indignantly.

“Stop!” you hiss and he laughs loudly. Every time he sneaks a glance at your flustered expression for the next few moments, he breaks out into another bout of laughter and you can’t help but smile too.

“People need to know how ridiculous you are sometimes,” you murmur. “I should expose you, honestly. Let them know who their hero really is.”

“I thought you hated sharing me with everyone,” he says. You meet his sideways glance as he turns, hand over hand, into Bakugou’s driveway. You consider his words for a moment, then sigh.

“I guess you’re right. I do.”

The car slows to a stop and he parks then faces you in the car for a moment. Sometimes you wonder how he manages to do this - look at you every so often like it’s truly the first time he’s ever seeing you, even if you’ve known each other since you were high-schoolers. He places a hand on your knee as you turn towards him.

“I’m yours, okay? Not just during our birthday vacation but all the time,” he reminds you. You twist your mouth to the side. There’s something about Izuku that indulges the more immature parts of you, and he handles them all the same.

“Understood?” he insists.

You nod, pretend-reluctantly, and he whispers, “Good girl,” before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Things have been hard recently, you think, but when he’s close to you like this, everything you go through feels worth it. There’s another kiss that makes it to your lips, and perhaps your arms make their way around his neck and-

“I swear to God if you guys start to fuck on my property, I will tear both of you a new one.”

With Bakugou’s irritated voice calling out to you, there’s a flash of the driveway lights that nearly blinds you, as though you are teenagers being caught getting too close in the driveway of your parents’ home.

Izuku steps out of the car first and Bakugou throws a set of keys at him before flashing you an annoyed look. You give him a cheeky raise of the eyebrows to acknowledge him similarly, pretending not to notice the fact that he’s not wearing a shirt, and look around him to see one of your favorite people make her way out of the house from behind him.

She’s wrapped haphazardly in a shawl and you laugh as she hugs you, able to tell she clearly just threw those clothes on ten seconds ago, if the breathiness in her voice and the flush in her cheeks is not enough to make it obvious.

“Please do not poke my eye out with your titties, I’m begging you love.” She grins widely as she squeezes you tighter.

“You don’t need your eyes to suck cock, do you?” she whispers into your ear. You roll your eyes.

“Can you ever be civilized?”

“Good question,” Bakugou asks, but not before slapping his wife’s ass on the way back into his house. “Don’t crash on your way there, Midoriya, I don’t want to pick up your shifts.”

“That’s his way to say ‘drive safely’!” your friend translates as she gives Izuku a quick, slightly more chaste hug, then jogs backwards back into the house where Bakugou is waiting. “Happy birthday! Let me know when you guys get there!”

“We will! Thanks!” you wave.

When you turn, Izuku is already getting back into the car. It doesn’t take long for both of you immediately to burst into laughter.

“Kacchan is such a hypocrite. As if we don’t see the bite marks all over his chest.”

“And __’s neck. Embarrassing.”

You tease but it’s cute to see them so happy. Of all your friends, you think they’ve been stable the longest, and their relationship simply fell into place. It helps you believe that perhaps things will be good for you long-term as well.

As if Midoriya can read your wistful thoughts, he picks up your hand and kisses the knuckles idly for a moment as he continues to drive, the highway tapering off into a smaller paved road as night settles in. Both of you are tired from the week, and opt for peaceful silence and music played at a low volume. After all, you will have plenty of uninterrupted time shortly.

---

You’re not sure when you dozed off exactly.

Izuku nudges you gently to wake you then carries you out of the car with one arm and produces a couple dark tendrils from Blackwhip with the other to pull the luggage behind you.

“I can walk,” you murmur, although you like the idea of being carried, and hope he insists, which he does, and you nuzzle closer into his chest, taking in the scent of his cologne.

There’s a small gate outside of the cabin that is truly underestimated by the word; rather, it is a large and lavish three-winged property, U-shaped, and fairly secluded in the forest and trees. A section, the rightmost one, belongs to you and features the name ‘Midoriya’ on a welcome mat in front of the entryway.

Izuku takes in an exaggerated deep breath as he opens the door, and excitedly exclaims,

“Finally. Peace and quiet.”

You try to stifle a laugh as he sets you down, and stretch out a hand for him to toss you his phone and drop in a special safe hanging from the side of the wall along with your own. There��s a preset timer set for 48 hours (except for emergencies) on its display that you contemplate before confirming.

“It’s silly that we do this!” you call out, feeling the disconnection to the outside world immediately the second the safe beeps to signal that it’s locked. Yet it’s necessary, because both of you are bad at blocking out the outside world and simply relaxing when needed.

Izuku steps out of the master bedroom, completely undressed aside from a pair of boxer briefs which he is also actively in the process of shedding. You take in his body, impressive in its shape and decorated with scars and freckles, and almost miss what he says.

“What’s silly is that you’re fully clothed when it’s hot tub time.”

Your eyes widen and you blink a few times in succession as you watch him strip to nothing, and suddenly you forget that you’re exhausted. Swallowing hard, you make your way towards him, but really past him, towards the room where your packed clothing lies, and he intercepts you on the way there, grinning widely as he towers over you.

“I need to get my bathing suit,” you pout, knowing very well you’re not getting past him.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he lays kisses on your neck that immediately disarm you. You can feel your body sink into him, as you make soft sounds of protest but soon you’re in his arms again and he’s carrying you to the hot tub, lips connected with every step.

…

The night continues and you sink deep onto Izuku’s cock, heat rising around and inside you. Your fingers cling to his broad shoulders as you slide onto him repeatedly, half-lidded eyes gazing down at him. He aids your descent, gliding you onto him as he worships your bosom with his tongue, laving a different wetness along your nipples and the curve of your breast, sucking at the sensitive skin.

“God, I needed this,” he whimpers as he buries his face into your neck. He cums, holding you tightly, filling you for the first time that night. The splash of water as he moves you so that your back presses against him and he can kiss the nape of your neck is somewhat soothing to your ears, as is the sound of his breathing as he holds you close.

You need him more - always, really. You revel in the way he plays with your hair and runs his calloused hands along your skin.

You also revel further in the way he dives deep between your legs, after you’ve sat together in the tub and let stress melt away, and after you’ve fucked a second time in the shower, your back pressed against the warm tile, and his hands supporting the weight of your thighs, steady despite the slippery water running over your bodies. He sucks your clit and blows softly against your folds, excited by the tensing of your thighs against his head and the relentless moans.

“‘Zuku, it’s too much…”

It’s never too much, because you can always handle more of him, and he eats you out till you cry and cum all over again, messy on his face, wrists in the palm of his broad hand. He kisses your belly as you practically convulse and come down from your high.

“Wanna rest, baby?” he asks. It’s hard for you to speak as your head spins, so instead you curl up against him. He takes it as a yes.

You fall asleep in his arms, beating hearts pressed close together. There will be more in the AM.

---

The smell of breakfast wakes you before a gentle ache in your thighs. As you shift and reorient yourself from the unfamiliar surroundings, you can hear Izuku make his way in the room with an impossibly loaded tray of breakfast foods he sets precariously on a coffee table across from the California King bed.

“Rise and shine, love.”

Before you can shift, Izuku makes his way on top of you, laughing as you wriggle under him.

“You’re so freaking heavy,” you hiss, but your arms make their way around his bare chest and you inhale his scent. His natural smell is comforting in its familiarity and despite the fact that you’ve been skin to skin nearly all of last night, you crave more closeness. His voice rumbles against your skin as he holds you tightly.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks.

“Like a baby,” you reply.

“Perfect. We should have breakfast,’ he insists. “We could go on a short hike and watch some of the birds in this area.”

“Mm, definitely.”

You kiss his forehead and satisfied, he rolls off of you too quickly for you to reach and slap his ass. He gives you a cheeky look and you crinkle your nose at him first before you decide to get out of bed.

You slip your feet into warm fuzzy sandals and head to the bathroom to brush your teeth first. A blanket is wrapped around your naked body, because you don’t like how the floor-to-ceiling glass windows make it easy for anyone (anyone who dares to anyway) to peep at you. Izuku is at the second sink at the far end, rubbing day-old stubble on his chin to decide if he wants to shave.

“Keep it,” you ask him as you press toothpaste onto your toothbrush. In response, he scratches his chin against yours as you bat him away.

“Maybe I will.”

Breakfast is filled with chatter and laughter, realizing you haven’t had enough time to really speak to each other in the past few months, despite living in the same house. You hold his hand as you walk up higher and higher up the mountain, clad in shirts and cargo shorts and too much sunscreen, bellies full but not heavy.

Izuku has a guide in his hand that you cannot fathom when he had the time to read that identifies more than a couple of creatures that soar above in the early morning, and you get surprisingly good pictures, particularly when Izuku uses his Quirk to get you high into the treetops for a better vantage point.

You do some foraging as well, of different fruits and flowers to add to your scrapbook, petals to press later -

Much like you find Izuku pressing into you shortly after, shrouded in the denser part of the brush, away from the shy fauna. All you can feel is him, all you can see is him raised above you, and the caws of birds that are probably embarrassed to witness how easily you drip like sap around him.

“..h-harder, Izuku,” you demand, scratching at his neck, his chest, his back, anything to communicate your feral desire. He bites your shoulder as he grunts in response, driving as much cock into you as he can muster, and you get what you asked for.

---

“I can’t believe you convinced me to roll around in the dirt with you.”

You gently admonish him with a kick of your leg, sending bathwater splashing at his face. He grips your leg and straightens it, laughing as you give him a slightly surprised look.

“As opposed to everything else you’d be willing to do for me?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your ankle. You can feel heat spread to your neck as he kisses further but stops just short of your knee, and then wades from his end of the bathtub to yours, pulling you to his side.

“When did you get so cocky?” you flick more water at him with your fingers as he grins. Your bodies shift in position, until your back rests against his chest and he’s holding your breasts in your hands, grazing your nipples with his thumbs.

“Way back when I finally got your attention.”

You turn suddenly to kiss him then pause. His lips are parted and soft and he looks somewhat surprised by your sudden movement. There’s something that’s said between you two without words, something that whispers I’ve missed you despite the fact that you and he have always been here.

“Do I still have it?” he whispers suddenly, as his lips ghost yours.

“Always.”

The scent of rose and jasmine fills your nostrils and love fills your heart.

---

“I’m surprised even though this is the third time we’ve been here, I never get tired of this place,” you say as Izuku lays his head in your lap. Izuku might as well be something like a cat or a bunny at this rate - you can practically feel him purr with the gentle scratches of your nails against his scalp, and his hand squeezes your thigh gently whenever you stop. “I still don’t think we’ve seen everything,” you continue.

“Probably not,” he agrees. His wavy hair is slightly damp still, and the rise and fall of his chest is slow and steady. He’s staring up at the ceiling and you can tell his mind, for once in a long while, is almost completely clear.

Almost.

You can’t lie that you haven’t been a little worried about your phone messages and other updates you’ve been missing while you’ve been engrossed with Izuku, and you can tell he feels similarly, a little bit of guilt settling in. It’s the same for you. Work, work, work. That’s what life has been like between you two as you’ve climbed your respective career ladders, trying to save the world as best you can. Times like this are rare and need to be protected as something as precious as people’s lives.

“Oh my God, do you remember the last time we were here and your nosy self thought it was a smart idea to start exploring the other wings?”

Izuku’s eyes widen as he recalls.

“Fuck.”

You start to laugh and kick your legs and he gets up, shaking his head.

“Shinsou told me the next time I trespassed he would have me shit myself in public. I hear him in my nightmares sometimes, honestly.”

You laugh even louder, doubled over as the image of Izuku, suddenly dangling from the ceiling by his ankle the second he passed through one door too many.

“The way you called my nameeeeeee!” you cackle as he pouts. “You were swinging there like a trapped animal!”

He purses his lips at you but you’re too busy laughing your ass off to notice, and eventually he ends up laughing too, falling back into your lap. His hands reach up to press your cheeks together.

“You know, it’s weird how many ropes and traps and harnesses are just littered around… Your friends are into some kinky shit,” he points out. Remembering many a midnight conversation about Shinsou and your friend’s ventures into shibari, you simply have to agree.

“I don’t know, I guess she likes being tied up.”

Izuku shoots you another glance, and you can see the glint of mischief in his eye.

“Do you want me to tie you up more?”

You tap his forehead with two fingers. “If I were into that, you’d know by now.”

He pretend-bites your fingers the next time you poke him. “Things can change.”

“Fair,” you reply. You pause, and then you look at him suspiciously. “You have ropes in your bag, don’t you?”

Izuku laughs frankly at the accusation. “I actually don’t, but I’ll keep that in the back of my mind… Plus Blackwhip is always handy.”

You can feel your face grow hot and he pats your face teasingly.

“I have other things packed, though.” Izuku grins.

That’s how you end up, spine curled into a C and legs raised with ankles by your head, panting and trembling as Izuku intermittently presses a vibrator against your clit.

“Come on, one more for me, baby,” he pleads, kissing the sweat on your brow as he holds your wrists above your head with one hand and torments your pussy with the other. Your voice comes out in soft cries as you try to recover from muscles clenching around nothing every time he makes you cum, swallowing the noises that slip out of your throat in orgasm with a kiss.

“I d-don’t have any more!” you cry, tears at the corner of your eyes. He gives you a long look and switches off the vibrator, and the last few pulses threaten to send you over the edge again. You’re too tired to wriggle out of the position and he doesn’t move you, keeping you in place.

“Temperature?” he asks.

You consider for a moment despite your lust-filled haze.

“Hot,” you finally decide. He smiles then bites your lip before switching the vibrator back on.

---

“I don’t want to leave,” you say first.

The two of you watch the stars around a small bonfire and share bites of cake that is slightly too sweet for his liking and slightly too heavy for your liking but somehow neither of you can get enough of. He says nothing but nuzzles into your neck more as you cuddle.

It’s surprisingly quiet and melancholy now, as if just a couple hours ago you weren’t screaming his name, as if his thumbs weren’t just dug in the spaces where you back and your glutes meet as he gave you relentless backshots.

“I wish we could stay forever like this,” you continue, then you laugh. “But you’d get sick of me, wouldn’t you, Izuku?”

“Never.”

You turn to look at him. He sounds a little bit too serious. He’s not looking at you but at the fire ahead and you worry that he’s worrying about facing tomorrow yet again. Izuku has once told you that it’s not that he’s no longer nervous, but that the anxiety is less and less able to prevent him from acting the way his heart tells him to as time goes on.

His legs move first. Always. And yet, it doesn’t mean the fear is no longer not there. It creeps when the rush of adventure is no longer able to drown it out.

It creeps when he holds you like this.

“You’d get tired of me first,” he adds as he fixes his gaze onto you.

“You know that that’s ridiculous,” you giggle. But he isn’t laughing and the crackle of the fire is suddenly too loud.

“It isn’t. There’s a lot you can have that I can’t give you all the time.” He says. Your heart starting to race, you pull away from him just slightly and his hold on you releases just enough for you to turn and really face him.

“I don’t want anything else,” you insist.

“You should,” he says. The tone of his voice is a little quieter now, and then he repeats himself louder. “You should want someone who is present.”

“I want you.”

He doesn’t say anything else because he knows you will argue away anything he tells you. So instead he sighs, not wanting to ruin the last few hours of vacation.

“Someday, it’ll just be this,” he says, “and it’ll be more than enough.” He kisses the top of your head. “I promise.”

You believe him. You know what he means by this intrinsically, as though you were in his head. A space for just the two of you and nothing to worry about. Where you can grow old together, where you are no longer weighed down by what you have yet to achieve and what you have already accomplished.

---

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear.

You know he does. You know, and if for even a second you forget, he will tell you over and over and over again.

Your fingers intertwine with his and you sigh, back arching as you open up for him. You fit together perfectly, again and again and again. Forever.

There’s a deep flush in his cheeks as he whispers words of praise into your skin. Another year passes and your love only continues to grow, tended to or not.

“I love you too, Izuku. Happy birthday.”

---

“The second my phone turns on, she’s gonna call me, watch,” you joke, as you open up the phone safe. 48 hours are up, and yes your legs are wobbly, but the red string of Fate that ties you two no longer frays. As expected, there is a flurry of texts that blow up your phone, and as Izuku prepares the car, you try to see which one you can respond to first.

I set the timer by the way 👶🍼. May the odds ever be in your favor.

gtfoooooo 💀, you text back to Shinsou’s favorite rope bunny. But as you watch your husband disappear into the distance, you think that it might not be so bad to have a little one.

“So how many?”

The expected phone call arrives while the two of you are back on the road.

“How many what?” you ask suspiciously. Izuku glances at you with curiosity.

“Orgasms? What else?” she clarifies, and you’re immediately flustered, practically able to see the mischievous smile on her face. Izuku hears it through the end of the receiver and laughs, his hands gripping the steering wheel.

“Izuku, do not answer-”

“Whatever Bakugou’s capable of plus one,” he says loudly, leading in.

“Bullshit!” your friend shouts back, and you can hear her already shuffling to tell Bakugou and you sigh.

“I’m hanging up,” you announce before an argument begins.

“Why babe?” Izuku whines, but the phone clicks off and he laughs even louder. “He’s gonna be thinking about that all night.”

“Don’t pick up the phone,” you say, but a smile forms on your face. You look forward and the sun is setting on the horizon as you drive next to Izuku.

It was a nice weekend. You’ll have many more to come.

Together.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku smut #izuku midoriya smut #deku smut #pro hero deku smut #daydreams: bnha #mimi's notes

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aemondapologistfrfr · 3 months ago

Text

The Family Disappointments - Pt5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

modern!aegon x fem!reader

Summary: You both attend meetings before moving into your new building. After settling in you both host a welcoming party.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, drinking, smoking, oral(f+m), face riding, p in v, unprotected, L word

Authors Note: 🐈🐈‍⬛🥹 AHHH i literally giggle and kick my feet every time i write for this series

Word Count: 4.4k

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

I sit on Aegons desk chair as he finishes tucking his shirt into his pants. I sigh as he slips his belt through the loops and goes to grab a jacket. He turns to me as he adjusts his cuffs before sliding on his rings. He chuckles before walking over to me and grabbing my face.

“Stop.” he whispers against my lips. “We have meetings to go to today.” he kisses me softly before pulling me up with him. “Owning a building means we have a little bit of work to do now.”

“Does this make you my boss then?” my tone playful.

“Yes, and I don’t tolerate tardiness.” he smirks pulling me against him.

“Let me know if there’s any other rules, sir. I really want that big promotion.” I bat my eyelashes at him.

He groans and pulls me out of his room. Alicent tries to stop us on the way out but he waves her off saying he doesn’t want to be late and she smiles after us. We arrive at our building early and I roll my eyes at Aegon. We get off the elevator in the lobby and we slowly make our way up to the restaurant.

The first meeting we have today is with the vendors for the restaurant and bar. We discuss the different options and what we can add to bring a higher level of taste. We’ve made sure to secure a supply of our favorite wine and much to my delight it will be arriving before we officially move in. The meeting ends on a high note as all of our suggestions were accepted. We offer them thanks and forms of contact for us both should they need anything.

The meetings with the restaurant and bar managers go over well as the transition hasn’t caused much change for them. We listen to their ideas and take note of their suggestions. The building manager goes over the remaining details with us and this meeting takes us the rest of our day. We sat in his office for hours discussing the different aspects. He seems to have a secure grip on the building and has no issue asking us for anything. We offer him different lines of communication with us and the three of us end the night at the restaurant sharing a meal.

“To the building and its future.” we all toast closing out the day. After an hour of talking we excuse ourselves for the night and go back home.

“How did I do today? Good enough to get a promotion?” I hum as he pulls us out of the garage.

“I don’t know, they might say I’m picking favorites.” he glances at me with a smirk.

“Am I not your favorite?” I pout resting my hand high on his thigh. “Can I do anything to persuade you?” I brush my fingers against his length and he groans.

“If you give me head in this car you can have anything you want, pretty girl.” my fingers pop open his belt and button quickly and I’m pushing them down as much as I can before I’m pulling him out. I turn kneeling in the seat to reach across the console and bring my lips to his tip. I lick across his already leaking slit and his hands bury themselves into my hair. I swirl my tongue around him and he moans jerking his hips up.

“Fuck you’re perfect.” he sighs above me as I sink down onto him. I let his hand guide my movements as I suction my mouth around him. His breathing is heavy above me as I start to bob faster. Broken whimpers fall from his lips as he stills my head as his pleasure pours out of him. I slide up licking across his tip before he pulls my hair back bucking his hips. I chuckle putting him back in his pants and he bats away my hand that lingers.

“Tell me what you want and it’s yours.” he looks to me with a lazy smile placing a hand on my thigh.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

“What?” I hum walking down another aisle tugging Aegon along with me.

“I just didn’t think you were going to ask for a cat.” he chuckles following me.

“Look at this little baby.” I coo as I stop at a kennel.

“Do you want me to go get someone so we can meet him?” he asks and I nod to him quickly trying to pet the cat through the small bars. A staff member comes and brings us to a room to meet with the kitten and she hands him off to me. I start crying at the small ball of black fur in my arms that curls up and purrs.

“What’s wrong?” Aegon coos wiping my tears.

“He’s just so precious.” I sniffle. “I want to take him home with us so badly.” I smooth his soft fur.

“He can come home if that’s what you want.” he presses a kiss to the side of my head and smiles at me. “We’ll just have to sneak him into our current place.”

“We’re moving out at the end of the week anyway.” I hold the kitten closer to me as he burrows into my neck.

“Stay here with him and I’ll go get the paperwork filled out.” he sips down and kisses the cat before slipping out of the door. The kitten wakes up after a couple of minutes and we play on the floor with the toys they provided us and he’s so sweet and playful. Aegon comes in with a carrier and his paperwork with a smile on his face.

“He’s officially ours.” he hums kneeling down to play with the kitten. “What do you want to name him?” he scoops him up and rubs his belly.

“Moonfyre? We can have the sun and the moon?” I tilt my head and he looks up to me with a big smile.

“That’s perfect.” Aegon hands him to me and he opens up the carrier for him. “Let’s go to the store and get him some stuff.”

I pull Moonfyre out of the carrier the second we settle into the car. He curls on my lap and I can barely contain myself at how cute he is. We park at the pet store and I carry him in my arms. Aegon grabs a cart and pushes it around throwing everything he’ll need into the cart.

“Looks like daddy’s already spoiling you.” I hum as I see the cart quickly filling.

“Anything to make mommy happy.” he kisses me before walking us to the check out. He fills his car with the bags of supplies as we wait in the passenger seat. I slip Moonfyre back into the carrier before we get out and make it to the elevator. His little meows pour through the carrier as we make our way up and I try to quiet him down as we slip through the halls to his room. Sunfyre trots over to us chirping.

“You have to be a sweet boy.” Aegon hums sitting on the ground with him. I sit on the ground with the carrier and they chirp at each other through the windows. “He’s just a baby. You have to be very nice.” Aegon says petting Sunfyre. The cats lay down looking at each other and touch noses.

“Should I try to open the carrier?” I nibble my lip.

“I think it’ll be okay. I have a hold on Sunfyre but he was fine when he met the other two cats.” he nods at me. I slowly open the carrier and Moonfyre pokes his head out. Sunfyre pushes forward and starts licking the kittens head.

“You’re being so brave my little moon.” I coo petting Moonfyre on the back. Sunfyre continues to bathe him and he goes and curls up at his feet. Aegon looks to me and smiles.

“Our little family.” he smiles laying down on the ground watching them. I lay next to him as we watch our cats curl up with one another and soon we’re just like them.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

I wake up with a smile that today is finally the day we get to move in. Moonfyre is curled on my chest just above my hand that’s placed in Aegons hair on my stomach. Sunfyre stretches out next to me curling into my side. I start to wake everyone up and we begin to dress and ready for the day. The movers come and begin to take the boxes and some of the furniture that he’s bringing with us.

“When did you get another cat?” Alicent looks to the kitten in my arms as she steps into the room watching it be emptied.

“Only a couple days ago.” Aegon hums coming over to us with Sunfyre in his arms.

“I can’t believe you’re actually moving out.” she shakes her head looking at him.

“As if you all didn’t want me to.” he scrunches his eyebrows shrugging.

“Well I’m proud of you.” she smiles at him and turns to let us finish up.

“Let’s go home.” I kiss him softly with a smile. The ride across the city seems quick today. As we step into the elevator I nibble my lip smiling at Aegon. We step out into our entryway and bring the cats to their room first. We show them where their food and bathrooms are before we leave them to explore.

“I have you all to myself now.” he pulls me to him. He places his lips on mine and I melt into his touch. Our elevator opens letting the movers in and we pull apart quickly.

“Soon.” I chuckle.

“Let’s go to the balcony so they can finish up.” he tugs me up the stairs with him and we’re stepping out into the sky seconds later.

“Our wine.” I turn to him with a smile when I see a couple bottles at a table. He pulls me over and I take a seat across from him. “And joints?” I look to him with a smile.

“We’re celebrating.” he hums opening a bottle and pours each of us a glass.

“You’re perfect and amazing.” I raise my glass to him and his cheeks flush.

“Thank you, pretty girl.” his blush deepens as he sips on his wine looking at me.

“I can’t believe this is all ours.” I lean back looking around us.

“No one can wake us up now and drag us to breakfast.” he hums lighting a joint and passing it to me.

“I’m sure our mothers will figure out a way.” I giggle passing it back to him.

“I’ll make it so you need a code to get up here.” he exhales deeply passing it back before sipping on his wine.

“Mm keeping me locked away in a tower now?” he laughs at my words before filling our glasses again.

“You finally figured out my plan.” he smirks to me. “I just want you to stay with me forever.” his words serious and I feel a blush creep up my neck.

“I plan to.” I hum passing the joint back to him. “You’re stuck with me now.” I sink back into the seat and pull my legs up to me.

“I wouldn’t say stuck.” he puts the joint out in the ashtray and looks to me with dark eyes. “I would say graced with your presence.” he sits back and admires me. “I’d do anything for you.”

“Aegon,” I whine reaching my hand out for him to come over to me.

“Let’s go see if we’re truly alone yet.” he pulls me up and places his lips on mine.

“I don’t care.” I shake my head holding him close before kissing down his jaw. He chuckles stopping my roaming hands and starts to tug me inside.

“At least we should check to make sure our children aren’t tormenting the movers.” we make our way downstairs as the last of our things are being brought in. We thank them profusely and begin to search for the cats. I smile walking into their room that Aegon has furnished perfectly for them.

“Oh my little moon.” I coo scooping up Moonfyre from the tree by the windows.

“Our sun was indeed batting at the movers feet.” he chuckles with a purring Sunfyre in his arms. We place them on their couch and they curl up together before falling asleep fast. “Now that the children are accounted for and asleep.” he pulls me against him and we’re a fit of laughter as he hauls us up the stairs.

“I want to swim.” I turn and look out at our dimly lit balcony.

“Then let’s swim.” he pulls me out of the glass door. He starts to pull off my clothes and I shiver from the breeze. “Are you chilly?” he chuckles lowly brushing his fingers against my hardened nipples.

“Aegon,” I gasp as he continues to swipe his thumbs against them.

“Hm?” he kneels down to pull my pants off. He kisses up my bare thighs and my hand travels to his hair. “Lemme just taste you real quick, pretty girl.” he looks up to me as his hands wrap around the back of my thighs.

“Please,” I whisper nodding my head. He rises and tugs me back over to the chair I occupied earlier and slowly spreads my thighs kneeling before me. He kisses my thighs watching me with an amused look as I squirm above him. He places a kiss on my bud and chuckles as my legs tremble. I gasp above him while he trails his tongue through my wetness slowly.

“Gods I could eat you for every meal of the day.” he hums before attaching his mouth to my bud. He slowly swirls around it pulling soft whines from my mouth. I lean back as his tongue sweeps against me slowly pulling pleasure from me. My legs shake and he chuckles into me before holding them open.

“Aegon,” I whimper as he starts to circle his tongue faster. He grinds me against his face humming and I cry out at the feel. He continues to lap against me as I start to arch off of the chair. He keeps my legs open as he quickens his pace while his name repeatedly falls from my lips. I push into his face as I come undone and he continues with his tongue.

“Thank you for the taste, pretty girl.” he kisses down my thighs as they tremble. He grabs a bottle of wine that we have left and pulls me back over to the pool. I help him undress and we dip into the water. We take turns sipping from the bottle as we float.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

“I thought I said no more family meals.” Aegon groans as I toss clothes at him to put on.

“It’s literally a party.” I turn to see him pouting on the bed. “Everyone is here to celebrate and congratulate us on the building. We don’t even have to interact with them.” I walk over to him cupping his face.

“I only want to celebrate with you. In bed.” he looks up to me pushing out his lower lip.

“Get dressed.” I kiss his forehead before heading over to my vanity. As I get ready I glance at him in the mirror surprised as he finally starts to pull on his clothes. He makes his way over to me still pouting.

“Come here, my pretty boy.” I hum scooting over on the bench so he can sit with me. “We can celebrate alone after.” I place a kiss on his lips and he melts into me.

“We could start celebrating early.” he hums spreading his hand across my thigh.

“After.” I grab his hand and pull him up with me.

“Fine.” he sighs following me down the stairs. “I guess we’ll just leave our children here.” he rolls his eyes looking into the cat’s room.

“Stop being so dramatic.” I chuckle pulling him to the elevator. He pulls me against him as we descend to the lobby.

“You look so beautiful in this gown.” he hums splaying his on my lower back.

“Thank you.” I kiss him quickly before the elevator stops.

“We can always go back up.” he looks to me as the doors start to open.

“Later.” I giggle pulling him out with me. His fingers slip through mine as we make our way through the people. He pulls us over to get a glass of wine and we sip smiling. “Brace yourself.” I murmur and he moves closer to my side.

“Look at you both.” Alicent coos as she sweeps in front of us. “Oh I’m just so proud.” she looks to us with a wide smile. “I found them.” she calls out and I internally groan as I see my parents walk over.

“So this is the man who stole you away from us?” my father looks over us and I pull Aegon closer.

“Stole me away is a stretch.” I hum trying to form a smile. “You guys were waiting for me to leave.” I shake my head taking a sip of wine.

“I’m Aegon,” he outstretches his hand to my father who shakes it.

“So I’ve heard.” he hums. “Your mother seems to adore him.” he looks to me with a raised eyebrow.

“Aren’t they just so cute together?” my mother coos.

“We’re gunna go talk to some of the other guests.” I nod pulling Aegon along with me. We mingle with the other guests and finally get the opportunity to meet some of the long term residents. Everyone was very friendly and excited to see the changes we make in the future.

“I need a refill.” Aegon turns to me after we have a moment. “So do you.” he starts tugging me back to the bar.

“Still drinking as much.” Aemond sneers as we approach and Aegon stiffens next to me.

“Still alone and angry with the world?” I tilt my head at Aemond and his nostrils flare.

“I don’t even know what you see in him.” he looks over Aegon with disgust.

“I see him as the kind and caring man that he is. Enjoy the drinks at our bar in our building before you go back home with mom and dad.” I hum before grabbing us two filled glasses.

“You didn’t have to stand up for me.” he scrunches his brow.

“Why would I not?” I pull us off to the side and search his eyes.

“I don’t- I don’t deserve you.” he looks at me with his glossy eyes that tear into me.

“No no no.” I grab his glass and set it on the landing next to us. “Don’t cry, my sweet boy.” I pull him into a hug.

“I’m sorry I’m so pathetic.” he buries his head into my neck.

“You’re not.” I hold him tighter and bring a hand up to his hair to smooth it.

“Are you just saying that cause I’m sad?” he mumbles.

“No, I’m saying it because you’re not pathetic. He is for trying to tear you down while we’re celebrating our success. It says more about him than it will ever say about you.” he pulls back and looks to me with a wobbly lip.

“I love you.” his words cause my breath to catch. “Do you love me?” he nibbles on his lip.

“Of course I love you.” I giggle shaking my head.

“How much?” he pulls me back to him wrapping his arms around me tightly.

“A scale of one through a hundred again?” I smile as he nods his head. “Then a million.” he squeezes me tighter.

“I want to go upstairs.” he places soft kisses on my neck.

“Soon.” I hum as we pull apart. “For now we can have some wine.” I hand him his glass and we clasp our free hands together before stepping back into the party with flushed cheeks. For the next couple of hours we walk around talking to different guests. We dodge our families for the rest of the night until they practically have to corner us.

“You guys have been busy talking to so many people we didn’t know if we would be able to say goodnight.” my mother pulls me into a hug.

“Thank you guys for coming.” I step back smiling.

“We will try to plan meals.” Alicent nods smiling. Aegons hand squeezes mine at her words and I have to stifle my laughter.

“That would be lovely.” I smile and he pulls me against him. The rest of the goodbyes seem to take forever but once they’re gone we turn back to the party relieved. We make our way back up to the bar and get another glass of wine.

“Here’s to our ‘lovely’ family meals in the future.” he raises his glass to me and I offer him a smile.

“What did you want me to say?” I bite my lip to hide my smirk.

“I don’t know like ‘we’ll be in touch’ or something.” he shrugs sipping his wine.

“‘We’ll be in touch’ to your mother is crazy.” I laugh. “We don’t even have set plans, we can just keep rescheduling.” he smiles at my words.

“I think we should leave our own party.” his voice low and soon we’re abandoning our glasses at the bar and slipping into the elevator.

“Where are our little boys?” Aegon calls out and we hear the jingle of their collars. They rub up against our legs and I scoop down and pick up Sunfyre.

“Such a handsome little boy.” I coo kissing his head.

“Our little sun and little moon.” he hums bringing Moonfyre over to us. They wiggle out of our arms as we shower them with kisses and run off into their room. His hand grabs mine and tugs me up the stairs.

“I can’t believe you said you love me. How embarrassing.” he pulls me against him once we’re in our room.

“You said it first.” I roll my eyes smiling.

“Of course I would say it.” he shakes his head. “I don’t know why you did. You can take it back if you want.” his eyes look to mine quickly.

“I said it because I love you, Aegon.” I search his eyes.

“You’re sure?” he squints his eyes with a soft smile.

“Mm,” I purse my lips and his nostrils flare. “I’m sure.” I nod my head smiling. I pull him to me and place my lips on his. He wraps his arms around me tightly as if I’ll leave him.

“So you don’t want to take it back?” he mumbles against my lips before kissing me again and I shake my head. “You can if you want.” I sigh into his mouth at his words. “You can tell me.” I pull back breathing heavily.

“Aegon, I love you. Please shut the fuck up.” a smile breaks across his features at my words.

“You can sit on my face if you want me to be quiet.” he pulls me back by my waist as a blush creeps up my neck. “Yes, on the bed.” he smirks pulling me over with him. We stop at the edge and begin to slide each other’s clothes off. He kisses against my neck as our hands roam across each other’s skin.

“Aegon,” I breathe out as he glides a finger through my wetness.

“Come on.” he scoots back up the bed. “Don’t be shy, pretty girl.” he says lowly pulling me over to him. Once my thighs are on either side of his face he places a kiss on each. “Look up.” he nods his head up and I blush at us in the mirror. He licks a teasing stripe and I jerk against him. His hands grip around my waist as he begins to lash his tongue against me.

“Fuck Aegon,” I whine as he moves my hips against him. I bring my hands to my chest and he groans watching me tease myself. I whimper at the vibrations and roll my hips across his mouth. He licks down to my core and I start to pant above him.

“Yes, right there,” I squeak as I come across his face. He chuckles as he continues with his tongue and swirls around my sensitive bud. My legs shake on either side of his face as he continues to lap against me. “Aegon, please,” my voice broken as my pleasure starts to build. He starts to grind me against his mouth and his tongue circles faster. I cry out as my pleasure washes through me and he pulls his face away as I tremble above him.

“You’re so beautiful.” he kisses one of my thighs. “And perfect.” he kisses the other. “And mine.” he kisses my core and a shiver runs through my body. He helps me lay down beside him before he hovers over me. He places his lips on mine and I bring my hands to his hair.

I moan into his mouth as he grinds into me. His tip pushes through my wetness as I squirm beneath him. He pushes in slowly pulling soft gasps from me. I hold him against me once he’s settled inside and our mouths mold together. We grind into each other savoring the other’s sounds. He starts a slow rhythm that has toes curling every time he brushes against my bud.

“Aegon,” I pulse around him as my pleasure begins to ripple through me. He pushes into me one last time before he finds his high and we continue to stay holding on to each other.

“I think I am gunna keep you locked away in this tower for a while.” he hums as he slides down my body.

“That sounds perfect to me.” I brush my fingers through his hair.

“You’ll still love me?” he mumbles against my chest.

“I’ll probably love you forever.” his arms tighten around me at my words.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

masterlist 🔌

i’m too soft for this fic rn

Part 6

taglist ✍️

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @hueanhdang @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra

#modern aegon #modern aegon targaryen #modern aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon the second #aegon smut #hotd smut #x reader #x reader smut #hotd fanfic #x reader fic #x reader imagine

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