#your eyes fucked me up on proctor

[gonzodangerfeels]

Those pesky adverbs

[lowkeyrobin]

Hawk x sensitive!reader where even after he becomes all "tough" and "badass" he's still gentle with reader. I just need fluff and everything is so sickly sweet like I want my teeth to rot.

- ♠️

(again i forgot which one it was)

YES OMG ☹️☹️☹️☹️ ; I'm screaming and crying were gonna fight wtf ; thank u for requesting some cobra kai stuff love u bae ; also sorry ab this cause I had no idea what to do here

HAWK MOSKOWITZ ; the one i love

summary ; while hawk is off becoming mean and badass, he's still nice to you, knowing you're kind of sensitive, and he doesn't want to lose his s/o

warnings ; language, talk of physical violence

track ; dedicated to the one i love, the mamas & the papas

word count ; 849

masterlist

Eli, these past few months, had changed. A lot. You didn't know whether you liked it or not either. He wasn't even Eli anymore, he was Hawk.

He'd taken on karate, got a new haircut, and completely changed his demeanor and personality. You couldn't lie, he looked cool, especially while showing off his moves, but what wasn't cool was him getting into unnecessary drama.

You'd seen some things online, though you tend not to stick around for any of it. You were caught up by Eli himself, considering you did online school. The bullying from Sam LaRusso and her friends had gotten too bad long ago, forcing you to hide away for the rest of your high school career.

You considered this transition good for Eli, as he was turning a new page in his story. He was able to defend himself, he was confident, and he wasn't being bullied anymore. But, at the same time, he was unrecognizable.

It wasn't in a bad way, not yet, at least. But this "Hawk" guy, wasn't your boyfriend, Eli. You fell into the arms of Eli Moskowitz, not Hawk.

Thankfully, he knew how to retain his relationship. Thank God his standards didn't raise, nor did his ego, as he changed.

You were slightly sensitive, you'd say, kind of emotional, mentally thin, maybe.

You had a bad day, though. That's all that mattered in this second.

You were trying to deep clean your room because it was nasty, and you were already mad. Nothing was working how you wanted it to. Your grades were dropping because you were becoming depressed and unmotivated, and you just wanted to see your boyfriend again. But of course, he'd been busy with karate and working out.

You yell out of pure frustration as you throw a pillow across the room toward your door before crashing onto your bed.

"Ow"

You quickly look up to see Eli standing in your doorway, having been hit by that pillow.

"Fuck, sorry" You mumble, proceeding to hide your face in another pillow that lays on your bed.

He slowly and cautiously steps in your room, picking up the thrown cushion. "What's wrong?"

"...Bad day"

He frowns, "What's wrong?"

You look up at him, spiky hair immediately catching your attention. "Can you wash out the gel before talking to me? You're intimidating looking like a badass"

He chuckles with a nod, "Yeah, I'll be right back"

You couldn't stand the mohawk. It intimidated you, like you were gonna be the next victim of his karate moves. He understood as you'd been honest about it long ago, and would often wash out his hair in the sink and use a towel to then dry his hair.

Now, his roots were dark brown, while the midsection to ends were bright blue. You'd helped him dye it, the reasoning why the bathroom sink was just barely stained with blue in the bowl.

He re-enters the room, his hair now damp, but un-styled. He sits on the bed beside you, allowing you to sit in silence with a pillow pressed against your face.

You slowly pull it away, looking up at him. You flop your back onto your mattress, staring at the ceiling.

"What's up?" He asks, his eyes gazing upon your tired and stressed expression.

You shrug, sitting up. "I hate online school, I have essentially no friends or hobbies, my proctors are shoving thirty assignments on me while I'm depressed and I need to do a million fucking other things-"

He quickly pulls you into a hug, silencing you. You accept his hug, arms draped around his shoulders as you rest your head on one of his shoulders. He does the same for you, his arms slung around your torso instead.

You groan, hiding your face from the light.

He lightly rubs your back, just trying to show you some comfort.

He speaks up after a solid minute of silence, letting you calm yourself down. "Do you want to get into karate? Or at least meet my friends? A lot of them would really like to meet you"

You shrug, unsure.

"It's okay if you don't want to"

You shrug again, your words mumbled from between his shoulder. "What if they don't like me cause I'm not like them?"

He smiles, a light chuckle escaping his lips. "Trust me, they're not gonna make fun of you or not like you in any way unless you give them a reason. And that in itself is pretty much impossible"

You nod, "Thanks"

"Is there any way I can help with your school stuff? What needs done? What can I do for you?"

"Calm down, Eli. I'll be fine. It's just when there's a lot on my mind, I stress out for no reason I guess. Like, I know everything'll be okay but... I dunno" You shrug, pulling away from his arms. "But thank you"

He nods, laying down on the bed beside you. "You tired? I am"

You nod with a smile, pulling him close to cuddle with him.

"Agh- your grip is insane!"

"Sorry"

[phant0mth1ef]

are we still friends? can we be friends? are we still friends? i’ve got to… know. (pt. 2 to the feeling that i’m losing her, forever). part 3

to say you didn’t expect to see a pair of bright red eyes staring you down as you walked into the facility was an understatement, you hadn’t made eye contact with those eyes in over a year, and you flinched the moment you realized just who you were looking at.

you’d stumbled into inasa once you snapped out of your daze, catching yourself quickly as your cap hit the floor, the boy using his wind in order to float it back onto your head.

“thank you.” you mumbled before going to take your spot in line, coincidentally right next to your former best friend.

“why haven’t you called me?!” so now he wants to begin a conversation.

“been busy.” you shrugged, refusing to even look at him because you knew you’d start crying the moment you met his eyes again.

“okay? you could’ve texted me or some shit!”

“my phone stopped working.” you were competing for the title of nonchalant final boss at this point with how casual you were being.

“bullshit. i saw you with it at the exam! just tell me why you’re avoiding me like the plague.” it may not have looked like it, but bakugou was scared out of his mind. you’d changed since the licensing exam, he could sense it in the way you carried yourself. you were being cold.

“what the hell happened to you?? you used to always call me, always text me. what happened?” did he seriously not know what happened?

“you happened.” and that was all you were able to say before the proctors for the training session entered the room, quickly commanding you all to stand in line as your face changed to a softer expression.

it was a casual sparring session, so why were you sending rocks the size of boulders his way? his mind was too clouded to even dodge them effectively, the words you said still playing out in his mind as he mindlessly sent out explosive attacks.

you’d tried to pack up as quickly as possible afterwards to avoid a confrontation with your former best friend, but you heard the clanking of his boots hitting the ground and just let out a sigh.

“what?” you snapped.

“what me? what you!” he was starting to get angry, the way he would get angry back in middle school.

“what about me?! you’re also at fault here. i was the one always trying to get in contact with you! i just grew up and realized that if you wanted to, you would.” you begun to shove all your things into your duffel bag, accidentally smashing your fist into the ground.

“what the hell does that even mean?! you’re the one who stopped calling me outta nowhere. i didn’t tell you to do that.”

“don’t you get it?! i was the one always calling!” you shoved your bag to the floor as you stood up straight, your voice getting strained as you finally made eye contact with bakugou.

“i was the one who always had to start talking to you first! it made me feel like a nuisance. and then one day i hear you telling your new friends that you think i’m annoying? like what the fuck, katsuki. none of this is my fault. if you’d just been a man and picked up the phone, this could’ve been avoided.” you had a habit of crying once you got frustrated, so naturally the tears were threatening to fall from your eyes.

he didn’t have any words, letting out a scoff as you picked up your bag and shoulder checked him on your way out, sending him stumbling back as he just stared at the ghost of your presence.

later that night he sat in his dorm room, his finger hovering over your contact but never once pressing on it, unsure of what he’d even say if you decided to pick up.

“i mean how the hell am i supposed to apologize? she’s so confusing. like damn sorry i called you annoying but it isn’t even that big of a deal anymore that was months ago!” bakugou was ranting to his little group of friends that were huddled on his floor, suprised that the boy would even invite them, let alone drone on about his issues with the friend that none of them even knew about.

“so you called her annoying but you didn’t know she was listening?” mina spoke up.

“yes but that was months ago! i don’t even know how to talk to her anymore because she won’t listen to me.” he sprawled flat on his bed.

“sounds like you’ve dug yourself a deep hole bakugou.” kirishima said, a hint of disappointment in his tone.

meanwhile, back at shiketsu, your group was currently huddled in camie’s dorm, and you sat on the bed while they formed a circle around you.

“i don’t know who he thinks he is but i am not going to beg for him to be my friend, i am not going to be as pathetic as i used to be!” slow teardrops fell from your eyes as you recalled back in middle school when bakugou found more friends and slowly begun to leave you behind.

“i know, and i get that, but you should at least try to give him a chance. he’s making an effort.” she tossed you your phone that was sitting on the desk, a notification on the lock screen.

[kats 💥🫂]

Meet me at the spot tomorrow. Please. 4 PM.

tags; @riverozada @lupitalove @msjaeger @aintseennothinyet @wendeeeee ask and you shall receive sorry if its kinda bad 😢😢

[eilaafterhours]

Patience [Grim | Casper]

Content: AFAB Reader, Light Dom/Sub, Blindfolds, Restraints, Men Crying, Cowgirl Position, Pet Names, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None (AFAB)

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

Remember: I’ll block you if I catch your ageless or under age (not 18+) ass in my activity :)

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

"How...how much longer must I remain like...this?"

The two of you had gotten into an argument about patience. He made the proclamation that he was leagues more patient than you, and instead of refuting him, you instead offered a challenge.  

You turned your attention to your partner, smiling at his flushed features. 

He was on your bed, spread wide on his knees. His arms were bound behind his back, and a blindfold hid his gaze. His entire body was coated in a thin layer of sweat, certain parts of his body flushed beautifully red.

Especially the head of his weeping cock.

You swiped the creamy slick away with your thumb, relishing in the way his hips bucked. 

"Ah, so needy..." You rested your clean hand on his cheek, "Open."

He did as he was told. Tilting his head up a bit, tongue lolling out. You placed your thumb on his tongue, and he closed around it immediately, sucking it clean.

"You cleaned it so good." You ran a hand through his hair, removing the blindfold in the process. "Hi there, pretty boy."

"S-sunshine..." His eyelids fluttered close, a curtain of white standing out against the deep red on his checks. "Please."

"Has your patience run thin, Casper?" His teeth caught his bottom lip, "Do you want me to help you?"

You moved to straddle him, sighing through your nose as the weight of his heavy cock settled against your stomach. 

The contact made him squirm a bit, "Ah—un...!"

You wedged your hand between your bodies, wrapping it firmly around his shaft. "Should I let you fuck my hand like this?" 

"Mmm..." You were sure that he was getting caught up in the fantasy, not even realizing that he had begun fucking your hand. 

You let him go for a bit, letting his moans go from soft and airy to restrained and from his throat. 

He was so close. 

You gave him a firm squeeze. 

He stopped moving. 

"So you're the only one who can get off? Naughty boy."

"I'm—fuck—sorry!" Tears slipped down his cheeks. 

"Ah, I've gone too far." You kissed them away. "And you've done so good for me."

He finally opened his eyes to look at you, "Have I?"

You nodded, giving him a soft kiss. "And now it's time for your reward."

You lifted your hips, lining yourself up, then lowered yourself on his cock. Both of you threw your heads back at the sudden heat and fullness. 

Very quickly did the two of you lose yourselves in the chase for ecstasy. He didn't last very long, but that didn't matter because the look on his face and the feeling of his cum filling you, being pushed in and out of you from you bouncing on his dick had you barreling into your own release. 

Once you had caught your breath, you undid the binds from around his arms. You squeaked as they immediately found your waist, dragging you down with him as he let his body go to exhaustion. You let him, resting your head on his chest as his chin nestled on the top of your head.

"So...who's got more patience than whom?" You asked.

"...I'd say it's a tie."

You shot up. "How is it a tie?"

"I may have been tested, but as the proctor, you gave into your lust and came very shortly after me." He smirked.

"Well, I wasn't being tested, so it doesn't matter."

"It does."

"Does not!"

"It does."

And it went like that for a short while longer until the sticky feeling between your legs became too uncomfortable and a bath was more important than who was right. 

Oh well, you'd just have to test him again. 

:)

I don't have much to say, actually. This is my comeback, and it's in a new fandom, um….yeah.

Welp, enjoy!

Masterlist

[theurgists]

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ KARMA ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: you and ellie have been separated for a while. and by a while, you mean enough to allow yourself to move on, but there's one single issue. all of her flings look just like you, and you'd be a fool not to notice.

warnings: 18+. mentions of marijuana, marijuana use, reader gets called a name or two, a bit of angst, some drama, not proof-read

a/n: a repost yet again! ;))

Your left hand shook, fingers gripping the red plastic taking refuge within your clammy palm — slowly raising its contents to the white rim. Adrenaline coursed through your body as if your veins were injected with sugar water — eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. 

Staring so intently had never been something you did unashamedly, opting to linger in the background, heart heavy and lip quivering under the extensive pressure of your internal insecurities. 

And this had your jaw clenching. The ridges of the bottom and top row of your teeth grind against each other with such force, that the muscles around your mouth grow sore. A certain ache had you raising your unused hand to rub your index and middle finger against the right side, soothing the developing pinch. 

Swallowing the thick pool of saliva that had formed in the center of your mouth, your lips parted to let a small, dry scoff escape. Muffled by the music pounding through the floor, reverberating from the tips of your toes up to your skull, your disapproving hum went unheard as you tore your eyes away from the dreadful sight. 

It shouldn’t bother you. But after a  whole fucking year, watching her arms circle around someone else’s waist, still set your heart a flame in the worst way possible, charring you from the inside out. 

“You’re seeing what I’m seeing right?” 

Cocking your head to the side, you could feel your neck crack slightly as you parted your lips to speak, loosening your tight grip on the poor solo cup squished between your fingers.

“I’d be blind not to. She looks just fucking like me.”

 Ignoring the slight shakiness that had riddled your body in an unexpected wave of what you had come to recognize as bitterness, you guided the rim of the cup to your parted lips, taking a large gulp of the alcohol, drawing in a tiny breath to help ease the sting. 

“The nerve…” 

You ran your tongue across your lips, staring at your companion for the night right in the eyes as your lips curled upward into an unamused smile. 

“She’s not my problem anymore so it shouldn’t matter.” You mumbled in your cup, knowing she couldn’t hear a word you said due to all the muffled noise practically shoving its way into her ear canals.

You were thankful for the darkness the living room provided, aside from the cheap-looking disco lamp hooked on the ceiling in the middle of the room, the different array of colors slowly becoming an eyesore as the night carried on and you grew miserable.

Clearing your throat, you leaned over, nearly bumping your shoulder with hers. “Did Donovan tell her to come?”

That sly bastard loved to fuck people over. You had grown to let it past your thick skull and alter your mind, seeing him for who he was. He was no longer a close friend — as he had encouraged some fucking outrageous actions from someone you thought you knew better than yourself. Donovan Proctor had dug a hole precisely six feet deep and six feet wide, and you were sure he made it just for you. 

He was an annoying little fly buzzing around your ears, taunting you with the unfortunate circumstance of having to witness your ex-girlfriend swallow someone else’s face. And by the end of the night, you’d hunt the fucker down and choke him out with your bare hands. 

The sudden knot in your stomach wasn’t from watching a stream of saliva glisten between their parted lips, nor the way her thin, rough fingers gripped the other girl's clothed hips, squeezing like she had done with you whenever things would grow hot and heavy; that wasn’t it by any means. 

It was from the unease of having to stare at someone who shared similar aspects with you — physically. Truthfully, it was odd. This whole situation was fucking odd. 

You weren’t friends with Donovan, you weren’t much of a drinker, and you barely fucking left the suffocating comfort of your house, so the question that was begging to be answered was… why?

Why out of all the nights that you had slowly spent rebuilding the courage to face the outside world again — as dramatic as it sounded —  had she decided to grace you with her presence?

Lifting the corner of her plump lip in a snarl, Mina, the one who had dragged you out of your bed earlier in the night, shifted to the side. “I wouldn’t put it past him. As occupied as that man-child is with making his money, he lives for this kinda shit.”

She hummed, “It’s his party, I'm sure he’ll hear it through the grapevine wherever he might be. Then again, she is one of his closest friends so I wouldn’t assume he has it out for you tonight just yet.” 

Craning her neck, tendrils of hair ghosted past your shoulder, tickling the skin there as she scoffed dryly, unzipping her purse. The leather strap shifted on her shoulder as she unzipped it, not once looking down as she trained her eyes to blur the people zooming past her vision. 

“I’m pretty sure she just looked at you.”

Rolling your eyes as far into the back of your skull as they could go, you heaved out a sigh, dramatically puffing out your cheeks, and squeezing your lids shut. “I need a fucking blunt.”

At the feeling of your warm hand entwined with another, you opened your eyes, barely able to process the fact that your feet had started guiding you toward the front door, wide open and awaiting your exit. 

As Mina giggled almost manically ahead of you, the scent of weed wafted up your nose from the open pocket of her beat-up purse. The smile that appeared on your face was one of joy as you followed, suddenly eager at the chance to relax the thoughts devouring your brain.

“I rolled before we came here. I had a feeling we needed one handy. Don’t mean to brag but I was right.” She shouted through the music, whipping her neck to look at you before looking forward again. 

Once your foot hit the first step and the gust of wind that you so desperately needed hit your heated face, you felt as if your lungs were no longer being crushed by the tightness of the secluded house. 

You were surrounded by the woodlands. Light from the moon shone down, casting shadows on the leaf-covered ground, illuminating the different shades of green and browns mixed throughout a small pile that you could tell had been raked earlier in the day before everyone’s arrival. The crisp night air weaving its way through the thin fabric of your clothing raised the hairs on your arms, creating goosebumps you tried to smooth down with a hand as the flick of a lighter reached your ears through the songs of crickets. 

“I can tell you’re trying to contain your murderous rage,” Mina spoke, closing her glossed lips around the tobacco leaf. 

You watched with interest as the end of the blunt developed an orange hue as she inhaled, smoke swirling. Raising an eyebrow at her observation, you bent down, sitting on the last concrete step of the staircase, shoving your hands between your thighs.

Frowning slightly, you shook your head from side to side gently. “Mhm, if you can figure out who it’s directed to I'll give you brownie points.”

She touched her chin, blunt between her fingers as she pretended to think for a minute. “Okay, I have three options.”

You clapped your hands together loudly, the sound echoing, fading with another whoosh of wind. “I’m all ears.”

Extending her hand, she wiggled the blunt in your direction, silently telling you to take it from her which you did without hesitation, taking a long drag before blowing out, coughing in the process. The hit was harsh, the back of your throat taking most of the damage as you tried not to heave up a lung, already growing lightheaded at the lack of oxygen. 

She stood in front of you, hand on her hip. “It's either your ex-girlfriend sucking face with her new one, which is my second option, and our dear old Donovan who we both know is out to get you for whatever reason .” 

Crossing your arms in an ‘X’ formation, you blew a raspberry before hitting the blunt for a second time before handing it off.

“On the right path but one of your answers is wrong. The girlfriend didn’t do anything. The other two, however…”

As Mina went to speak, she removed her eyes from you at the sound of the front door opening, revealing the man of the hour in all his cocky glory as he dragged his feet down to where the both of you were situated. 

His knee dug into your spine uncomfortably as he placed himself on the step above you, the scent of his musky cologne consuming your senses. It was so strong, you could practically taste it on the tip of your tongue. 

“What are we gossiping about out here.” He teased, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth in a taunting manner. 

He didn’t have to look at your face to know he was clawing his way under your skin — no. The rigidness of your spine told him all he needed to know and you could feel the enjoyment radiating off of him, looming over you as if were a storm cloud.

Gritting your teeth, you watched from the corner of your eye as he plucked the blunt from Mina’s hand, flicking the ash on a leaf that was in the odd shape of a boot, you thought. “We’re talking about you and how you like to ruin my life.” Turning your body to face him, a condescending smile painted your lips, teeth and all as you narrowed your eyes. 

He shrugged, feigning innocence as he took his bottom lip between his teeth, concealing the smug grin that threatened to make itself known. You never had the urge to smack someone as badly as you did at that moment.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Cut the shit, you invited her here after I specifically asked you not to. And I was being nice about it too.” 

Donovan shook his head. “Since when was cunt a nice word?”

“Since you started wearing my patience thin. That was the nicest you were gonna get, so you should be grateful.” 

“I’m always looking forward to your spicy attitude, little b.” 

Furrowing your brows, the skin between them creased as your eyes ran across his dimly lit face, the muffled sound of music and shouting keeping you grounded as you stared straight at him, face as hard as stone, fingernails digging into your palms as you balled them into tight fists.

‘Little B.’

It had been a nickname he had created for you after your unfortunate break-up with his good friend. 

Little Bitch. That’s exactly what you were to him. 

“Fuck you.” You spat. 

The longer he sat there, with that stupid smug look on his face, the harder it was to restrain yourself from punching him square in the jaw.”

“Donovan,” Mina began, sensing the thick tension that had formed between the both of you, the silence uncomfortable as she leaned forward cautiously.

“What Mina?” He asked, tongue darting from behind his chapped lips to lick at the dry skin there. Averting his gaze from your burning irises to stare at her, he chuckled. “She knows I’m just fucking around with her.” 

Outstretching his hand, he blew smoke directly in your face, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut, chest heaving up and down quickly. 

The anger within you had reached its peak. One more sly comment and you’d deck him in the face, no hesitation. Snatching it from him, your hand shook, fingers growing numb once again as you bit the skin of your bottom lip, taking a long inhale before you exhaled, concentrating on which direction the wind decided to take it. 

“Just leave me alone, Ellie.”

Simultaneously, the three of you whipped your heads toward the door, watching as your ex-girlfriend, Ellie emerged from the doorway, hands tucked into the deep pockets of her jeans, clomping down the stairs with such speed that she was past you before you could blink. 

“C’mon,” She pleaded, grabbing her wrist to stop her from moving any further. Well aware of the audience she had a couple of feet away, she opened her mouth to speak only to find herself blubbering like a fish out of water. “What did Barry even say to you?”

From your position, you could see your doppelganger roll her eyes, arms crossed over her massive chest as she snatched her arm back from Ellie’s tight grip. 

“He said a lot of things.” 

Scoffing, Ellie shook her head in confusion, removing one of her hands from its position to pinch the bridge of her nose in mind frustration. “About what?”

The girl looked around, scanning her surroundings before her eyes landed on you, malice pooling deep within her eyes as she laughed without emotion. “About her.” 

Pointing a finger in your direction, she narrowed her eyes into slits, as if you were the cause of all her problems. 

Well, unbeknownst to you, you secretly were. Not just because Barry had told her all about your intense relationship with her current girlfriend, but because it was blatantly obvious that said girlfriend wasn’t over you whatsoever. 

She wasn’t stupid. Her appearance is what lured Ellie to her in the first place, and you were the one to blame. In every single one of Ellie’s relationships, she’s managed to find women who shared more than one similarity with you physically and flaunt them off on social media. 

In truth, you hadn’t been keeping up with her as much as she had done with you, too focused on your life issues and your close-to-impossible healing process to give a fuck about how many women she had gotten intimate with. Now, as you sat there on the steps, blunt in hand, eyes as wide as saucers, another rush of adrenaline coursing through you, it was as if the rose-colored glasses had been magically lifted from in front of your eyes. 

Ellie Williams had looked for you in every girl she found, and yet, none of them were you. That was the unfortunate conclusion you had come to realize as the five of you uncomfortably looked at one another.

You were caught in the crossfire. Fuck. Why’d she always manage to fuck shit up for you?

Aiming your eyes toward the ground, your ears picked up the sound of crunching gravel as Ellie spun on her heels, rapidly blinking in surprise, chest suddenly tightening as her eyes landed upon your hunched figure, tugging on a shoelace to occupy yourself from the tense silence. 

Her girlfriend looked at her with such disgust that if looks could kill, you were sure Ellie would be more than six feet under at this point. She raised a finger, poking the left side of her chest, momentarily knocking her off balance, lips raised in a snarl as she spoke through gritted teeth. “Un-fucking-believable.” 

And with that, she turned, stomping away from the auburn-haired girl, lips pursed thinly as she fished her keys from her purse. 

Sighing to yourself, you took another drag, lifting your head, eyes boring into the back of the poor girl who hated your guts, the thin material of her black low-cut shirt wrinkling as she wiped her palms on her sides, drying her hands from what you assumed was her tears as you frowned to yourself.

Darting your eyes toward your ex, you could feel the organ in your chest begin to beat rapidly. Banging so loudly against your chest that you were positive the force was strong enough to crack a rib or two as you extended a shaky hand, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “Do you want a hit?” 

“Go to hell.” 

With your jaw slack, you watched as she retreated up the steps, aggressively yanking open the door to disappear back inside, the array of colors from the disco light reflecting off of the porch pillars that held the small rain roof. 

The expression that morphed the muscles of your face was one of anger as you spun around on the step to face her, trying your hardest not to focus on the awkwardness oozing off Donovan and Mina who had just been watching the situation play out in real-time, both speechless for once in their lives as you yelled at her back. 

“No cause what the fuck was that?” You asked, genuinely confused. 

Cocking your neck in Mina’s direction, you passed her the burning tobacco leaf, guiding yourself up the steps and through the crowd of sweaty bodies and the lingering stench of BO that threatened to burn your nose hairs as you searched for her. 

“Ellie!” 

Quickening her pace, she let the darkness of a narrow hallway consume her, swallowing her figure as she made her way past the three doors on either side of her, bee-lining it straight to the bathroom.

You were growing increasingly frustrated at this game of cat and mouse that had developed in the five minutes that the two of you had been around each other.

 Why you were chasing after her? 

You had no clue, but you did have a ton of fucking questions that were itching to be answered and as she turned the metal knob of the door, you swore to yourself that you’d seek them all out tonight, in the privacy of Donovan’s shabby, yet surprisingly clean bathroom. Away from curious eyes. 

Sliding yourself in the crack of the door right before she closed it, you rubbed your eyes at the change in lighting, pressure building up behind your sockets from the harsh fluorescence. 

“What’s wrong with you?!”

At her words, you turned on your toes, mere inches away from her face as she twisted the lock behind her, green eyes twinging with dislike: and for some reason that broke your heart in two. 

You could never dislike her. Even if she hurt you the way she did.

Why couldn’t you be mad at her? That was something you had asked yourself more than a handful of times as the months went on and she occupied herself with other women. 

It wasn’t fucking fair. 

Pursing your lips, you crossed your arms over your chest, inhaling the scent of her sweet cologne, suddenly feeling small under her burning gaze. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? Do you seriously think people haven’t fucking showed me who you’ve been snuggling up to after we broke up? It’s fucking weird.”

The lines on her face slowly faded away as she wrung her hands together, leaning her head against the cool wood of the door, the small scrunchie holding the hair that she lazily put up pinching the skin of her head as she closed her eyes. 

It was quiet aside from the muffled chatter outside and the air vent above, collecting dust every second the two of you stood there in silence.

Raising a brow, you rolled your eyes, sighing dramatically as she peeked at you through narrow slits. From your position, clothed calves touching the edge of the cool bathtub, it still looked like her eyes were screwed shut. 

She was staring at you — wracking her brain for a sentence to say that wouldn’t seem so passive-aggressive as if she didn’t just tell you to go to hell nearly two minutes ago. 

The bright yellowed hue of the bathroom light illuminated your stoney face, casting a glow so angry that her eyes had started to water. 

“So you’re just gonna stay silent? Ellie, they always look just fucking like me.” You seethed, tapping the point of your shoe against the tile floor. 

At that, she opened her eyes, shaking her head from side to side. “I don’t know what else you want me to say.” 

“I want you to explain what the fuck is going on?”

“There’s nothing to explain, just let it go. Go back to the party.”

“No. You’re not shutting me out this time. It’s not a coincidence that every single girl you’ve decided to bury your fucking fingers into sorta looks like me.” 

“Why’d you have to say it like that?”

You scoffed at her lame attempt to play dumb. “‘Cause that’s exactly what it is and it’s embarrassing for you.”

“This isn’t something I wanna talk about right now.” 

Her response was curt, void of all emotion. 

“Well, too bad. I'm not letting you leave until we figure this shit out. We’re adults Ellie. Talk to me like one.”

Running her tongue across the top row of her teeth, the freckled girl sucked in a deep breath, crossing her left over her right, pressing her back flat against the wooden door. “That’s real funny coming from you.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t play dumb with me.” She sighed, arms flexing as she scratched the nape of her neck — a nervous habit. “You ask Donovan to tell me not to show up, and now you want me to act like an adult?” 

“I wonder why I said that?” You pressed, trying to justify your cowardice actions.

Ellie, as smart as she was, had come to realize long ago that she was in no position to say the things she was spewing in your direction, but she just couldn’t help herself. In her eyes, treating you like shit on the bottom of her shoe was the only way to go about things, even if she wanted nothing more than to have you touch her again. 

Reaching out a hand, you grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look you in the eye as the heat of your open mouth fanned her face, causing her to wet the skin of her lips. 

You weren’t exactly sure if the sudden confidence that took over was from the heat of the moment or the current high you were experiencing but you didn’t care. You did not give a single fuck that you were as close as you were to her, feeling the heat of her skin against yours as her facade cracked with every passing second.

“Please.”

The change of emotion gave you whiplash. You were used to her being straightforward with you, words never faltering no matter how hurtful they might’ve been. That was something you loved about her — you still do. She always kept you on her toes, and now you were flat-footed.

“I can’t do this with you.” You whispered.

Her small sigh echoed in your ears as you rubbed your thumb against her jaw, feeling her left hand circle around your wrist, gently removing it from her face, fingers ghosting over the palm of your hand before she entwined her fingers with yours.

It hurt all the more, knowing that this was finally it. She’d finally find the courage to leave you there, despite the unknown force pulling her body in your direction, rattling her to the very core. 

You were still in love with her. She was still in love with you.

Simple.

Ellie Williams wasn’t sure of a lot of things, but one thing that she would bet her whole life on was that you were her karma. 

And God, did it bite her in the ass.

[arcanarix]

Make That Double, CH3 - Yan!SatoSugu x Fem!Reader [AO3]

Word Count: 5.7K

Warnings: non-con, lactation kink (with geto), cock warming (in both holes), fingering, rimming (fem. receiving), vibrator wands, anal (with dildo), groping, mentions of diet monitoring

Geto shows you a bit of mercy following… all of that. As he helps you settle in, he allows you to continue your graduate studies online via a heavily locked, proctored, and guarded computer, and under strict supervision by any of his devotees. You suppose you can’t complain in that regard; maybe he has some sense, knowing how expensive higher education already is, and you’re almost done, anyway. Once you graduate, he doesn’t have to worry about that, anymore, and he claims to be a patient, understanding man.

What a bucket of sheer bullshit.

There are other rules you have to follow. He puts you on certain medications, that he doesn’t discuss the purpose of at all. He makes you exercise, since he figures it best you maintain peak health. He plans to monitor your diet, but he’s not overly restrictive.

It’s crass, and it’s frankly unbelievable how quickly your life went to shit after working at that goddamn café. Funny how the most trivial decisions in your life can change the entire trajectory of it—for better or for worse. And this is so much worse than you have ever imagined. (And that imagination of yours doesn’t stretch very far, because you don’t want to entertain the possibility of just how much worse your situation can get. After all, you have bear witnessed to some unseen forces both Geto and Gojo are gifted with manipulating. You can’t even perceive it. So what the fuck?)

After submitting your assignments for the week—you’re thankful you can uphold at least one aspect of your life—you accompany the twins while Geto is off scamming his clients. You know very little of the cult he organizes, but apparently, it’s all just a big coverup. You don’t care to dig into the details, either. You have seen enough of what he is capable of doing, and that’s as much as you need to know.

Nanako shuffles the deck of cards for another round. The twins engage you in friendly games of Nines or B.S. It is actually sort of endearing they want to make you feel like you’re part of the family, and if you didn’t know any better, you might have fallen for it. But now that you know the reason Geto and Gojo targeted you in the first place is because they wanted you, you’re frightened of crossing them, as well.

Now you’re in the middle of a third round of B.S.  

“Okay, well, I’m putting down a 3—!” you lie through your teeth because all you have are Kings, Queens, and Aces, which Mimiko immediately calls you out on.

“B.S.! That’s a hefty hand of cards now!” she giggles with a little twinkle in her eyes that otherwise seem dull and lifeless.

You sigh in defeat, grinning as you swipe the hefty stack of cards in question and keep them steady in your hands. As long as the girls are enjoying themselves, you suppose.

“Well! I put down my only card which is a 4!!! I win!” Nanako laughs as she slams the card down on the low wooden table before doing a little victory dance.

“Wow, I haven’t played these card games since childhood. It brings back a lot of memories,” you comment, and Mimiko perks up at that.

“We hope you can make tons of new memories with us,” Mimiko replies. At that, you frown a bit.

“Girls,” you start, drumming your fingers along the table. “Forgive me if this is out of line to ask you, but why did you request me?”

“Because we like you,” Nanako answers quickly. She and Mimiko exchange a look.

“And we don’t want Master Geto to get lonely,” the twins say in unison.

Finally, Mimiko adds, as her eyes seem to understand more than she ever dares let on: “You seemed lonely, too, so we wanted you here with us.”

You are, you definitely concede to that, but this is not the remedy you had in mind.

“Master Geto is our hero,” Nanako babbles on with a fond smile. “He rescued us from a village when we were really small! The villagers were going to kill us because they thought we were heretics. But he killed them all before they could. So we owe him everything! We wouldn’t be alive without Geto!”

You freeze as you process the information. That’s a side to Geto you’re not sure you admire, because he still killed people as a means to an end. While to protect two girls who aren’t as innocent as they seem…you still aren’t wholly convinced of him being a hero in any sense of the word.

But maybe that doesn’t matter, because he’s a hero to these girls. It doesn’t seem to bother them what he does, because they blindly follow him.

“I see,” you mumble, handing your cards to Nanako as she shuffles the deck for a new game. You hear the opening door emit a slight creak and there enters Geto, smiling at the sight of you bonding with his girls who he holds dear to his heart. His heavy footsteps draw near, and your breath hitches. Instinctively, you rise to your feet to greet him.

“My little dove, I’m happy to see the twins enjoy your company so much already,” he drawls as he beckons you to come to him with a curl of his finger. You wordlessly obey. You don’t look into his eyes.

But then he tucks his bony fingers under your chin and lifts your head. Before bidding farewell to the girls,  

“Follow me,” he instructs, and you once again wordlessly obey, your feet already moving to follow him back to his bedroom.

At least you know the underground dungeon is a one-time thing…but that doesn’t make your situation any less difficult.

“I’m sorry I had to steal you away,” he sighs as he shuts the door before pinning you there. “I missed you too much.”

“I thought the girls were the only reason you chose me,” you retort, but there’s no true bite to your words. You know better than to try to fight back a force you don’t understand.

“True,” he concedes with a low hum, as he drags his finger along your jawline. You can’t stop yourself from wincing at his touch and he tuts at that. “But you must understand how much I desire you, too.”

“No, I don’t, I’m afraid,” you mumble and you hear him sigh once more, pressing a feathery light kiss to your forehead before pulling away.

“I merely took you away so we can further discuss this arrangement. As you know, you’re to remain with me. Satoru will make occasional visits here, and he plans on stopping by later in the week,” he rambles on. “I expect you already know what he expects. He has this thing about sharing, and he’s as fond of you as I am.”

“So what,” you stammer, as your timid eyes meet his. “Is this some kind of sick free use fantasy of his?”

Geto purses his lips. “Call it what you like. But if you knew what was best for you, you’d accept it. After all, I can’t have him be unfulfilled, hm? He’s dear to me, you know.”

A response dies on your tongue—how the hell are you supposed to react when you know you can’t speak your truth? Not unless you want to be scorched to death like those chefs and those customers. Yet even in spite of that you find yourself grinding your teeth, your response packing a lot more bite than you want it to as your blood simmers beneath your skin.

“Alright. Whatever,” you finally say. “I’m just glad you’re sensible enough to let me finish pursuing my education.”

“Of course,” he jives, in a tone that insinuates you’re the foolish one for expecting otherwise, folding his arms over his chest. “Under strict supervision. Not that there’s much you can do if you try to run or call for help. Satoru and I have eyes everywhere, my little dove.”

You nod grimly. “If that’s all you wanted to say, may I be excused?”

His eyebrows furrow. “You don’t have power over that.”

“Geto,” you sigh, daring to take a step closer to him, resting a gentle hand on his chest. “Please, have a heart. I know you must have one somewhere if you did what you did for the girls for the reasons they claimed.”

“So, they told you,” he mutters, as his eyes bore into yours, as if searching for some kind of reaction other than what you’re displaying which is sheer indifference. That’s what you ought to strive for in a situation like this, isn’t it? Because it’s not like you can ever expect to be happy in this arrangement. “The girls were vulnerable then.”

“Yes,” you respond, tone laden with disgust. “In an effort to convince me about you, I suppose.”

“Did it work?” he asks, casting a side glance at you. He sounds… hopeful. And you want to squash those dreams beneath your heel like it’s a nasty bug. He doesn’t deserve anything from you, not a single damn thing.

“You figure it out,” you retaliate, the venom still oozing in your tone unintended yet you can’t stop it from spewing everywhere.

You almost regret it as soon as those words slipped from your mouth. Something flashes in his violet eyes, but he holds himself back this time. Huh. Maybe you can have a voice somewhere. Not all hope is lost, perhaps?

Biting back a groan, he replies: “If it will take you a bit more convincing, then I suppose you would be delighted to know that within reason, you are still allowed to go out from the temple. As long as you’re with us. You’re part of the family, and we want you to be comfortable here with us. It’s only appropriate you behave as if you operate as one of us.”

Gosh, that guy really likes spewing a lot of bullshit, doesn’t he?

“Nothing is going to change, Geto,” you tell him, “Nothing you do to try to win me over is going to work.”

His hand constricting around your neck interrupts you, and you struggle to breathe as his nails dig into your sensitive flesh.

He pins you to the door behind you, your head colliding with a light thud. You grunt, gritting your teeth.

“Have you stupidly forgotten your place?” he sneers into your ear. “You’re alive because I want you to be. I can kill you in the blink of an eye. Yet you’re here for one reason—because I will it.

“Be a good girl, little dove, and I’ll be the perfect lover for you. But you try to cross me, or be a little brat? It won’t be good news for you. Do you understand?”

You curtly nod, struggling to speak. He relaxes his grip on your neck. His eyes soften.

“I don’t wish for things to be difficult between us, but you humans, you monkeys…you all think you’re holier-than-thou. Which can’t be further from the truth,” he snarls, “I want this to work out, my dear. Not just for the girls, but for me and for Satoru. Don’t you understand?”

He cups your face, thumbs brushing along your skin as his violet gaze bores into your eyes.

“You’re wanted here. Alive and well and thriving. We will leave you wanting for nothing as long as you cooperate,” Geto finishes, releasing his grip on you. He shuffles around the room and acquires you a robe similar to his. He tosses it to you. “Get dressed now. And don’t be shy. I’ve already seen everything so there’s no reason for you to hide.”

Something lodges in your throat; a protest dying on your tongue as you do as you’re instructed. Light wisps of the fabric fill your ears as you strip down, fold your clothes and set them aside, and arm yourself in the robe. It’s pure silk. Airy. Light. Comforting and breathable. Almost like you’re wearing nothing.

Geto tilts your head up by the chin again and latches something around your neck. A pure gold chain, skintight. The pendant in the middle is the cult’s insignia.

“I’d have used a collar if I didn’t find those so vulgar,” he whispers, as his finger brushes down your cheek. So light you can barely feel it. “Plus you’re far above such dehumanization. Consider it a compliment. I don’t say such words to monkeys, especially. You’re part of the family now. Soon, you’ll be acquainted with the rest of them.”

People actually follow this guy? …And why does he call humans ‘monkeys’? Is it some weird evolutionist crap?

You avert your gaze to your feet. You don’t know how all of this sits with you, but all you have to know is that you’re not okay with it. Dread coils in your stomach and heart. You can’t believe what’s become of you, and you’re not even fighting back—why not? Because you don’t know what you’re facing. How can you fight back when you’re not even fully aware of the world of which you unwittingly entered?

“Before we go,” he drawls, grasping your hands and dipping you slightly as he presses his lips to yours for a moment. He then scoops you into his arms princess style and carries you to his bed. “I want to enjoy some alone time with you.”

He leans in again, pressing his lips to yours. Soft, light at first. But then his kisses become hungrier. He pries apart a bit of the robe—the robe must be for easy access, huh?—tracing the outline of your lacy baby pink bra as he trails kisses along your collarbone.

“The medication might take a bit to work, but that doesn’t mean I still can’t…enjoy these,” he grunts, removing your bra to reveal your beautiful mounds; the tip of his tongue flicking at your perky nipple before sucking it into his mouth. You can’t fight back the low hiss from the contact that becomes a low moan. Your nipples are already oversensitive as it is.

He draws his tongue around your nipple, growling low and guttural. More experimental sucks and you swear you feel something. You gasp, your lips still parted as his eyes widen. Something hits his tongue. White liquid.

Is that what all of this is for..?

“B-but I’m not…” you whimper, chewing on your lip.

“The medication I put you on,” he explains as he removes your nipple with a pop, kissing around your mound. “Combined with your new nutrition plan. It aids in this.”

He pinches your nipple and more milk splatters onto his lips, which he eagerly licks clean with a pleased sigh before latching onto it again, suckling hard. More pitchy whines escape your parted, rosy lips. Instinctively your hands move to cradle his head in place.

He’s drinking your tit like his life is on the line, like he can’t live without it.

“Geto…?” you whimper, as a blush blooms on your cheeks.

“Suguru,” he corrects, his voice muffled slightly.

“Suguru, I…” your breath is caught in your throat before another moan leaves your lips. He continues to greedily nurse on your nipple, the slosh, slosh, sloshing of the liquid leaking from the tip so lewd and intimate.

He finally pulls back, tongue running over his lips as he catches any lingering droplets of your milk. He sighs, purely content for the moment. Before he adjusts your robe, he kisses along your breasts.

“Pull yourself together,” he commands, though his tone is softer—bordering on affectionate, even. “The girls want to go out to eat.”

Geto following through on his promises, being a man of his word and all, so you’re allowed to go out with them like a normal family. As normal as this family can appear, anyway.

The twins want to go to check out some new bakery since…considering what happened at the café you worked at, it’s probably best not to return. Besides, he also explains to you that to the public you’re just another member of the family. Your school doesn’t think you’re kidnapped, so there’s no reason for you to not be able to stretch your legd as long as you’re kept on a tight leash.

You may call it merciful, but it’s just basic human rights to you.

You halt in place as you take in the scenery of the park Geto and the twins take you on a stroll through. It’s a gorgeous, spacious botanical garden with duck ponds and various stone paths leading to different segments. It’s beautiful, yet your eyes rest on a particular couple having a picnic under a cherry blossom tree. It’s not in season. Ut the prospect alone is romantic enough. Yet another thing you have lost your chance at having.

Geto calls out your name, and you twist your head to meet his cold gaze.

“We must get a move on. The girls are very excited to try this place out. We don’t want to make them wait, don’t we?”

“May I request a quick break?” you mumble, your gaze flitting back to the couple grazing in their little corner. A longing sigh leaves your plump lips. Why has something like this happened to you? Why not some other unfortunate soul, someone who may actually benefit from this? (If anyone can benefit from such an absurd arrangement?)

Geto approaches you, his cold gaze melting into something almost tender. You wish you can spit in his face. You wish you can taunt him, mock him, beat him down. But you have no power over him and you know it. You have to play the long game. That’s fine. You can do that.

You may not have any power…yet.

“Is something troubling you?” He follows your gaze to the blissfully unaware couple, a frown stressing his features as he appears to be grappling with why they caught your attention.

“You took so many of my dreams away,” you mutter, tone sharper than intended but you get your point across, nevertheless. Your fingers dig into the fabric of the robe Geto gave you. You await punishment for any perceived defiance, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment as you wait to embrace a slap, or anything other physical blow. Yet nothing comes.

You pry your eyes back open. He’s drawn near you, his face contorted into a contemplative expression. As if he almost feels the weight of some guilt over his actions but you know that to be false. Just in your imagination. No one as heartless as he can feel a shred of remorse.

“That may still be a reality,” he assures you as he rests a firm hand on your shoulder, squeezing it. “Between us.”

You shake your head. “No. I’m more like your concubine. There is nothing between us.”

Geto’s body tensed, his nostrils flaring and his breath hitching in his throat. He glowers at you, and you know you’re about to face something terrible for calling him out on his bullshit.

“For that to be true, you would need to be living in a status below me, which clearly isn’t the case,” he explains as he attempts to regain his composure; he’s not one to lose patience but around you, that’s become a challenge for him. As if to prove his point, his finger traces along the gold chain of your neck. “You are…special, to me. I only hope you come to understand how much you matter here.”

You’re so fucking full of shit, you think to yourself, knowing better than to speak your truth.

He murmurs your name. “Let’s not cause a scene around the girls. They want to bond with you.”

You glance at Nanako and Mimiko, who seem absorbed in their own world, walking ahead of you and Geto, babbling to each other about some gossip magazine they read together.

“Fine, only for the girls,” you scoff as you attempt to maintain a neutral expression, brushing past him. You grimace as the gold chain hidden beneath the robe he forced you to wear jingles a bit—that’s just to reinforce the fact that you have no power over yourself anymore.

He may not think of you as a pet, but he treats you like one.

“Mr. Geto! Hurry up!!!” Nanako calls from over her shoulder as you approach her. You let out a little gasp as Nanako grasps your hand and squeezes it, like a child would with their mother.

“I’m coming, Nanako. Don’t worry,” he calls back as he catches up in a few strides. He tags behind you, his stare boring into the back of your skull as you keep holding Nanako’s hand. Between the girls, Nanako appears to be more openly trusting.

In spite of yourself, you smile at the idea. Even if the girls have set you up to live under Geto’s rules, you don’t mind being around them. You do wish it was under different circumstances…

Nanako calls your name and your eyes meet hers.

“What kind of video games do you like?” she asks, her eyes brimming with curiosity.

“Oh! Um…” You rack your mind for something. “I used to love playing Mario Kart back in the day! And Sonic Adventure 2. But I don’t think I ever strayed beyond that…”

“Oh! Then we can introduce you to cool stuff! Geto doesn’t like to play, so it’ll be awesome to have you be playing against us!”

Geto grumbles something to himself. “Video games are a waste of time.”

“Says you, Mr. Geto!” Nanako chides, “You just say that because monkeys make them!”

“Perhaps,” he concedes with a huff.

Monkeys? Again? Is that what he calls normies or something? Who does he think he is? Draco Malfoy?

“You’re not a monkey,” Nanako tells you with a cutesy grin. “You’re awesome! Geto thinks so too. He just won’t say it outright!”

You glance at him, eyes twinkling in curiosity. You’re far from flattered by the discovery, but you wonder what Geto really thinks of you.

He avoids your gaze, focused on his feet but he still tails close behind you.

“Geto,” you address him, but he interjects.

“Suguru,” he corrects you, yet again. “You don’t call me Geto.”

The slightest hint of irritation flashes in your eyes.

How about I call you Tweedledee and Gojo Tweedledum and we call it good? Oh how you wish you could say what you really thought.

“Suguru, I, um…” you start again, wincing at your own wavering tone. You make a face. You can’t believe yourself and what you’re about to do, but flashing Nanako an apologetic smile, you retract your hand and secure your arms around one of Geto’s. He tenses for a moment, likely from surprise, but eases into the touch. Nanako grins at the sight before turning to babble on about something with Mimiko.

“You don’t need to,” Geto murmurs to you, chin nuzzling into your hair.

“It’ll make them happy,” is all you say in response.

All you’re thinking of now is appeasing the girls. Your happiness doesn’t matter anymore. It seems as if it never did.

Geto only hums, securing his hold on you as you approach the new bakery the twins have been dying to try.

Per Geto’s command, you find yourself back underground. You know what’s coming next. While he hasn’t done all that much to you just yet, things are about to change. You shouldn’t get too comfortable.

Especially when you hear steps descending down there stairs. And in strides Tweedledum, adorned in casual clothes as opposed to the school uniform he had on last time. You can only wonder what kind of danger he puts his students in if he has this side to him.

He still wears those fancy Cartier sunglasses indoors and you don’t understand why—is it just symbolic of the fact that he’s richer than most people? It kind of seems it.

“Princess? Suguru? I’m baaaaaack,” Gojo announces in a singsong tone as he greets Geto with a quick smooch. You wince. Geto has kept his hands off of you for the most part in the first week. Perhaps in an effort to be hospitable and warm. But Gojo definitely has a lot in mind for you.

It’s a Friday evening. In another world, you’re probably helping yourself to a whole bottle of wine while binging terrible chick flicks until you pass out. But nope. Life has other cruel plans for you, and it’s all because of Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

Like Geto’s told you, he wants Gojo’s part of the deal fulfilled. You have to smile and bear it. You’re back in that underground dungeon but at least you’re a bit freer to move for the time being. This is where Geto arranges Gojo to meet for their ‘secret’ meetings that not even the girls know about, apparently. Gojo and Geto are supposedly playing on different sides of some war going on and you don’t care to dig into it all that much. It doesn’t involve you, anyway.

There’s a large, opulent, red velvet couch where you’re seated on, and Gojo slides in with you, yanking you into his lap as his hands are already all over your breasts just like before.

He whimpers into your ear; an unmistakable hardness rubs against your bottom. He smirks into your skin as he buries your face into your neck. A hand works to spring his cock free from his pants. Your eyes widen. Of course his cock is fucking huge.

“Suguru says we need to ease you into it, but I think you can handle it,” he mutters, removing your robe and pulling your panties aside. His finger drags down your folds, already a bit damp, and he sighs dreamily as he inspects the slick coating his fingers. “Hm. We need to slick you up just a bit more before I insert it, hm? Stretch you out with my fingers first?”

Through his endless babbling, you don’t notice he’s already slipped two fingers easily inside, cooing sweet nothings into your ear as your spongy walls are already squeezing around him. Geto soon accompanies you, settling onto the couch beside Gojo.

“Satoru,” he murmurs, “Completely lost patience, have you?”

They share a chaste kiss, and Gojo slips a third finger, making you keen from the wide stretch.

“Can’t help it, Suguru,” he pouts, keeping a gentle yet quick pace. “Been thinking about this pussy too long.”

Geto observes the scene unfold, his lips twitching into a smirk as his eyes fall to your pussy glistening in your building, soppy slick. Finally, he pulls them out, only to bring his fingers to Geto’s lips so he can suck them clean, groaning at your taste as Gojo lines the tip of his dick to your quivering entrance.

“Fuck, such a tight pussy, and the head’s not even all the way in,” Gojo chuckles, and you manage to shoot a glare which only seems to make him giddier as he inches more of his length inside. “Don’t worry, Princess. I won’t be moving. Just getting you used to it first. I promised Suguru we’d take things slow with you.”

Soon you’re fully seated on his cock, and God, his size stretches you so wide and fills you up to the brim. When he moves even fhe slightest bit you can feel his tip brush against that spot.

“Your tight little asshole must feel so empty,” Gojo coos in a condescending way, as he turns to Geto still slurping on his fingers for anything left of your essence before he retracts his hand. “Suguru?”

“She’ll need a bit more prep for mine in there, even if we’re not moving, don’t you think?” Geto muses as he drops to his knees, spitting into your back hole. You gasp in shock.

You can’t even fight it.

His tongue rims the ring of your ass before the tip catches. Geto lets out a low groan, his tongue laving around the rim a few more times before he plunges it inside.

“Su-Suguru…?”

“Oh, already on first name basis, are we? In that case, let me here you say mine,” Gojo purrs as he presses open mouthed kisses on your neck.

“S-Satoru…” you hate how weak and meek you sound, but you’re being assaulted on both ends.

“Fuck, my name sounds so good from you,” he growls, nipping at your supple skin, leaving behind deep marks.

Geto fucks his tongue deep inside your ass and you squirm a bit in Gojo’s hold. He’s the one tutting this time, gripping your waist.

“Go ahead, baby,” he taunts with a wide, manic grin. “The more you squirm, the tighter you feel. And fuck, do you fit my cock like the perfect little sleeve.”

Gojo whips out his phone, tapping record as Geto continues to twist his tongue deep inside and you can feel his wide smile as he performs for the camera. Luckily Gojo doesn’t record for long, slipping his phone back into his pocket, focusing on lounging as you’re warming up his cock with your twitching insides.

“Hey Princess, ever given a blowjob before?” Gojo asks as Geto pries his tongue out, only to soon replace it, teasing the ring of muscle with the girthy tip of his cock.

You shake your head. Gojo hums, tutting again as he pets your hair.

“No worries,” he laughs as Geto inches the head of himself inside of you, making you bite your cheek hard to avoid shrieking. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

Somuchsomuchtoomuch—!

Geto finally has his entire size inside of you. And you’re filled to the brim in both holes. You feel like such a slut.

Your breathing becomes more broken. It’s so full.

You deflate between the two men. Tweedledee and Tweedledum really isn’t that far off the mark from describing them, right?

“You’re taking us better than we expected,” Geto purrs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Like I said before, it must definitely feel good to get real cock in there.”

“Just how much of a slut are you if you’ve been wearing these sexy panties and bras when you’re single? Were you secretly hoping for something like this to happen to you?” Gojo teases, playfully smacking your ass a bit too hard, making you yelp. “Our Princess really is that lonely, hmmm?”

“Satoru,” Geto admonishes, but he doesn’t seem to be all that angry, rather just as entertained. “Remember what I said about picking on the helpless too much.”

“You’re seriously on about that again?” Gojo scoffs, playfully bucking his hips to brush against that spot and making you gasp again. “Fiiiiine. I’ll play nice.”

“Please, it’s too much,” you beg through a moan.

“Oh? Is it really? Are you sure? But your holes are practically begging to milk our cocks dry,”’Gojo jives, nipping at your bottom lip before laving his tongue along it to soothe the mark forming there.

“Yes, little dove. We have to train you a bit, you know,” Geto continues, a finger tracing down your arm. “We’re kind enough not to pull the cart before the horse. We could have chosen to be crueler but that would prove ineffective.”

“Yeah, besides,” Gojo murmurs into your lips before softly pecking them. “There’s no fun in breaking someone we would rather cherish and spoil.”

Are these pieces of shit out of their goddamn minds!?

“I…” you whisper, clenching your fists as Geto adjusts in his spot a bit. “Please it’s too much…” You repeat, hoping they show you mercy and relent.

Gojo and Geto share a glance. Sighing, Geto is the first to pull out, but he’s shuffling around the room to find something. Perhaps a compromise.

Gojo finally pulls out, but keeps you secured in his lap. He spreads your legs wide and rests his large, calloused hands on your inner thighs. His grip is firm, as if daring you to try to break free. You know better than to try. He nuzzles his nose into your neck, inhaling your fresh scent.

“Just got cleaned up and now we’re going to make a mess out of you again,” he chuckles darkly. Geto returns, a large vibrator wand and dildo in either hand. You pale at the sight. The very models you have used before…just how long have they been tracking you?

“While this goes here,” Geto announces in an authoritative tone, wriggling that long, slender pink dildo inside of your back hole without much an issue since it’s been stretched by his size a considerate amount. “This goes here…”

“Hold still, Princess,” Gojo purrs into your ear as you hear the click of Geto switching the vibrator wand on at a moderate setting. He pries your folds apart and rests it between them, and you shout in protest.

“No, no, no, please,” you weep, thrashing a bit in Gojo’s hold but with not much success. His grip on your thighs tighten, and it doesn’t even look like he’s putting much effort into holding you down yet here you are, struggling to break free. They’re not even bothering to use any real restraints because they can handle you on their own. You’re not sure what to make of that.

“I’m sorry, my love, but if this is going to work, you need to let us do this,” Geto commands as he massages the tip of the wand up and along your pussy. Already there’s the squelch, slorp, slick of your intimate juices. It’s so fucking humiliating and yet you find yourself inching yourself closer to the sensation. All the while Gojo’s fucking the dildo into your ass, sinking it all the way in and out. They work together like the perfect team of menaces, and that’s exactly what they are.

“Fuck, please, I can’t,” you whine as you feel your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave crashing over you. You shiver as your ass flutters around the dildo. Your pussy is pulsing against the vibrator and Geto decides to amp up the setting just a bit more.

“Yes you can,” Geto demands with a dangerous smile, pushing the vibrator to your circle your clit. “Let’s see if we can get a few more, hm? We know this isn’t your first rodeo with toys like these. I’m sure you’ve gotten carried away on your own.”

So what if you have?

He leans in, eyes locked on yours. “We won’t stop until we get five more out of you.”

“Damn,” Gojo laughs under his breath. “What happened to taking things slow?”

Geto gives him a non-committal hum. “Perhaps I lost patience, too.”

[sapphire-writes]

Lessons (modern!HOTD)

Second installment of Teacher's Pet

pairing: professor!Aemond x student!Reader

summary: After your rendezvous with your former professor, you haven't heard from him. Desperate times lead to desperate measures.

word count: 4.2k

rating: Explicit (detailed warning under the cut)

Warnings: mature themes, power imbalance, pussy slapping, face-fucking, slight degradation, edging, begging, oral f-receiving, fingering, anal fingering, p in v, creampie, cock warming

note: felt silly and wrote a long-awaited part 2!! hope you enjoy it loves!!

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

It’d been a few weeks since your office encounter with Aemond Targaryen. You don’t know what you were expecting, a text, a phone call? It wasn’t like you had exchanged numbers after accidentally flirting with him at the bar.

No. He made it clear that he was in a position of power, and that what happened between you should be a one-time thing. 

Should be.

The phrase you’d been pondering since he fucked you silly. He could have easily told you it wouldn’t happen again, giving you a definitive answer.

But he didn’t.

So you held onto that hope as you made your way through the last leg of your semester. You’d seen him around campus a few times, spared some pleasantries that left your stomach fluttering, and your cheeks flushed. But nothing more than that. Still, it was enough to keep you hopeful. You just needed to find the right opportunity again.

Well, maybe after your final for Social and Cultural Perspectives on Witchcraft and Sorcery. Dr. Rivers was one of your favorite professors, and this elective was clearly where her passions lay. But her weekly quizzes preparing you for your final were about to kill you. 

You sighed, making your way to the lecture hall, removing your AirPods. You nearly trip when you see Aemond standing next to your professor outside of your classroom. You force a smile on your face and continue. 

“Dr. Rivers,” you greet your professor and glance at Aemond who stands at the front of the door, handing out papers, “Professor Targaryen.”

Professor Alys Rivers smiles kindly at you, as Aemond hands you a packet. He says nothing, just nods to acknowledge you. It sends a jab of pain slicing through you, the ease at which he ignores you. 

“Professor Targaryen has kindly agreed to proctor this quiz while I attend an important meeting,” Dr. Rivers tells you, placing a manicured hand on his forearm. You glance at her expression, the sly smile she gives him. 

“Fuck me eyes, girl, don’t forget what they look like ever again,” is what Sara had said to you when you’d call her spilling all the details about your dirty rendezvous in Aemond’s office. 

Dr. Rivers was definitely giving Professor Targaryen that look. You found yourself pulling your shoulders back as you took the paper from him, his fingers barely brushing against yours. Dr. Rivers is a beautiful, older woman; tall with flowing dark hair that matches her eyes. She always looks her best when teaching, red bottom Louboutins making her appear even more graceful. 

She’s wearing a form-fitting forest green dress today accentuating her curves. She’s got that perfect Marilyn Monroe hourglass shape; Aliandrawould be foaming at the mouth and calling her mommy if she saw her. I mean, you’re practically on your knees as well, but the feelings of jealousy suppress your adoration for her. 

You move your gaze to Aemond. He briefly meets your gaze, before smiling politely, lifting his hand to usher you into the classroom. You flick an eyebrow up at his dismissive behavior. Aemond’s face remains neutral, and Dr. Rivers glances at you, as though you’ve been standing there too long.

“You’ll do fine, Ms. Y/L/N,” she encourages, assuming you’re nervous about the quiz. 

You force a smile back at her, adjusting your bag before heading inside the classroom, brushing by Aemond. You move to your seat and drop your bag, reaching for a pen. So he’s ignoring you now? How typical of a man who finally gets some pussy. 

The door slams shut as Aemond walks down the aisle; you can’t help but admire the suave way he saunters between the desks toward the desk at the front. You’re barely listening as he instructs what to do when you’ve finished the quiz, eyes trained on the curve of his lips, the definition of his jaw. The veins on the back of his hand as he writes on the whiteboard.

Fuck. 

You wish he didn’t fuck so well, didn’t dress so well, wasn’t so smooth, and easy to talk to. You shake your head before beginning your quiz. Aemond Targaryen was not going to distract you anymore today.

Fucking liar. 

You wish you dressed up and wore a sexy little skirt like you did that day in his office. You glance up from your desk. Aemond is mindlessly flipping through papers, tongue darting out to wet his forefinger as he turns a page. His attention is focused on the task at hand. Annoyance creeps up your spine at his indifference. 

Had you known he would be here you would’ve taken more time picking an outfit. You had pulled your hair out of your face, utilizing a claw clip, and had settled on a spacious, baggy sweatshirt. At least you wore shorts so you could show some leg, but that’s doing little good right now. You nervously chew the back of your pen, cracking your neck as you attempt to focus on the questions in front of you. 

Your eyes flicker back to him. He doesn’t spare you a fucking glance. 

Your annoyance quickly turns to irritation, liquid fire burning through you at his indifference. You can feel your face heating up, becoming almost uncomfortably hot when an idea strikes. You place your pen on the desk. You grab the edge of your sweatshirt, pulling it slowly over your head, revealing the skimpy tank top you have on underneath. You didn’t wear a bra with it, you hadn’t planned on removing your sweatshirt at all.

The cool air flowing from the vents causes goosebumps to appear on your arms and you fight the urge to shiver. You let the sweatshirt drop with a thump on top of your backpack. Aemond glances up at the noise, eyes trained on your discarded sweatshirt, not looking at you. He lets his gaze rest there a moment before returning it to his papers. 

You lean back in your seat, nipples hardening in the cool air, straining through the thin material of your top. Oscar Tully sits beside you at a neighboring desk, propped on his elbow leaning his face against his hand. His eyes widen as you reach for your claw clip, shaking your hair loose. Oscar’s jaw slacks slightly as you cross your legs, raising your arms over your head in an exaggerated stretch. 

You glance at him, noticing the auburn-haired guy staring at you, awarding him a small smile. At least someone’s paying attention. Oscar gives you a lazy smile, eyes falling to shamelessly look at your chest. You run a hand over your hair, twirling some around your finger while reaching for your pen once more. You can’t help yourself and let your eyes glance at Aemond. 

He’s looking at you now. 

Violet and blue eyes stare back at you as you place the back of the pen in between your lips, gently nibbling on the tip. You tilt your head to the side, before leaning forward, making sure to rest your chest on your forearm, letting the top of your cleavage spill, before returning to your quiz. 

Oscar Tully’s mouth has fallen open in a wide grin as he appreciates the sight in front of him; his eyes trained on your chest that rises and falls with each breath. You answer the next question before glancing at Oscar again. He’s handsome, in a frat boy way. You recall hearing he once signed up for this class because he’s into crystal girls. You give him a sultry smile, running a finger down the side of your neck, over your collarbone and the top of your breast. Oscar raises an eyebrow at you and you stifle a giggle. 

“Ahem,” Aemond’s voice flows from the front of the classroom.

To make a point, you don’t look at him, letting your gaze fall from Oscar back to your quiz. You finish early, grabbing your things and bringing them to the front of the classroom, depositing the quiz in front of Aemond. He doesn’t say anything, just glances up at you as you turn away, heading for the door. And yes, make sure you swing your hips as you do so. Maybe that will get his attention. 

“You did not,” Aliandra Martell snickers as you tell her about your shenanigans from earlier that day. 

You were happily seated in your shared apartment, splitting a copious amount of Chinese takeaway with Aliandra as you recounted the tale. You’d been friends with Aliandra since freshman year and had to fill her in on your scandalous hookup with Professor Targaryen.

“And look,” you tell her, showing her your phone, “Oscar Tully has been messaging me all afternoon.”

Aliandra inspects the messages before clicking on his profile. You grab a crab rangoon, biting into it as she squeals with delight. 

“He wants to meet up!” she says, handing you back your phone.

Still chewing, you read the message Oscar just sent. 

“Drinks,” you say nodding, “Yeah, I could do drinks.”

Aliandra can see through you easily, and she frowns at your lackluster reaction.

“Girl, he’s cute!” she encourages, “And it’s just drinks, you don’t have to suck him off of anything.”

“Ali!” you scold, but she merely shrugs.

“Look, all I’m saying is you’re hot, you’re funny, and you’re all-around awesome. If Professor Orgasm can’t see it, then find someone who will,” she finishes, reaching for the spring rolls. 

“Professor Orgasm?” you ask, “Not your best work in the nickname department.”

“I’ll work on it,” she assures, “But, how many times was it again?”

A shiver rolls through you at the memory, all the way down your body and straight to your clit. 

“Like four times?” you recall, cheeks blazing red.

Aliandra’s eyes are wide.

“Damn. I think I’d be dick-whipped too then,” she tells you.

“I’m not dick-whipped,” you tell her. 

“Then prove it,” she challenges, eyeing your phone.

Though your stomach flips and flops, you respond to Oscar’s messages, telling him you’d meet him at the Silk Street Tavern in an hour. Plenty of time to get dolled up. 

You go for something simple and sexy; a little black dress to do the trick. You fix your makeup and hair just the way you like it and settle on your best heels for the occasion. You look good. And Aliandra is totally right, you’re hot and deserve the attention.

You tell Aliandra goodbye; she’s wrapped up in blankets on the couch preparing for a much-needed night in, as you leave the apartment. 

As you make your way out of the apartment and down the front steps you notice a familiar sleek black car parked outside. You slow your steps, as Aemond exits the car walking around to the passenger side. He’s still wearing his button-down, but a dark jacket has been paired over it, matching his slacks. You release a small, breathy laugh as he watches you.

“Are you following me?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. 

“Thought you might want to go for a drive,” Aemond tells you, leaning against his car. 

You fold your arms across your chest, jutting your hip out at him. Your heart beats erratically in your chest as you force yourself to stare back at him.

“I have a date.”

He opens the passenger side of his Mercedes before walking to the driver’s side.

“Get in the car,” he instructs, not turning around.

His tone suggests he will not ask again. You glance at your phone, greeted by an excited message from Oscar that makes you wince. You look up at Aemond, who waits with the driver-side door open. 

Sorry Oscar.

The drive to Aemond’s apartment took little to no time at all, he flies down the streets like a man possessed, going well over the speed limit. His right arm lays lazily on your lap, fingers curled into the meat of your thigh as though he’s worried you’ll leap from the vehicle. 

He lives further into the city, pulling in front of a tall skyscraper, a doorman standing in front. Aemond throws the car in park, holding out his key. 

“Fiftieth floor. Number 531,” he tells you, voice a low growl, “Go inside and wait for me.”

You look at the key he holds out to you, then back at his face.

“What should-”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he cuts you off, “You’re a smart girl. Figure it out.”

You swallow the lump forming in your throat, take the key, and exit the car. Aemond speeds around the corner, presumably parking his car. You walk toward the building on shaky legs, not meeting the doorman’s eyes as he holds the door open for you. 

You walk through the lobby and towards the elevators, heart in your throat. You barely register the time it takes you to get upstairs, finding his door. Nervous anticipation curls in your belly as you walk into his apartment. 

It’s as you expected; clean, and modest, with sleek black furniture and stainless steel appliances in the large kitchen. A black marble counter that matches the modern fireplace in the living room. It’s dangerous, yet inviting, much like Aemond himself. You take a few steps inside when you hear a loud hiss. 

Glancing down the hallway you spot an old large tabby cat, with its tail completely poofed out in anger, ears flattened against its head. 

“Don’t mind Vhagar,” Aemond tells you, appearing from behind and shutting the door, “She’s an old grump.”

“I like cats,” you tell him softly, and Vhagar hisses again, showing all her pointy teeth. 

Aemond hums, moving to stand directly behind you. He brings a hand to your arm, letting his fingertips trail a path up toward your shoulder. Your breath catches in your throat. 

“You live here?” you ask, wetting your lips. 

Aemond hums in confirmation. His long fingers play with the thin strap of your dress, slipping underneath. You can feel his breath on the side of your neck, and smell his cologne. It's dizzying having him this close to you. He brings his free hand to rest against your waist as he presses a soft kiss to the crook of your neck. Your eyes flutter shut at the sweet gesture. 

“That’s the only kindness you’ll get from me tonight,” he murmurs against your neck. 

Goosebumps break out across your skin and your eyes snap open in confusion. You turn your head slightly to look at him, feeling his grip on your waist tightens. There’s a dangerous glint in his violet eye, as his lip tugs upward into a small, satisfied smirk.

“You think you can behave like that, and be rewarded?” he asks, before tutting softly, “We could have had a lovely night together, a little continuation of our last encounter.”

Aemond spins you to face him, bringing his hands to cup your cheeks. Eyes wide you stare at him, lips parted in shock. 

“But someone is a bit greedy, isn’t she?” he asks.

You don’t answer, feeling as though your heart may burst from the confines of your ribs.

“I asked you a question,” he tells you, “It’s rude not to answer.”

You swallow, lower lip beginning to tremble. 

“Yes,” you answer quietly, “Yes I was greedy.”

“Hmm, and what do you think happens to greedy little girls?” he asks, letting his thumbs stroke your cheeks. 

Holy shit. Is this really happening? You can feel yourself growing wetter with every word he speaks, the ache between your thighs becoming almost unbearable. You shift on your feet, lashes fluttering against your cheek as you avert your eyes from his. 

“They need to be taught a lesson,” you answer him, beginning to chew on your lower lip.

“And I’m a good teacher, aren’t I?” he asks, bringing his thumb to your lip, releasing it from between your teeth. 

You raise your eyes to meet his once more.

“Yes professor,” you tell him, face set in a pout. 

Aemond squeezes your chin before releasing you, dropping his hands to his belt. 

“On your knees,” he instructs while unbuttoning his pants.

You sink to your knees in front of him, reaching up to assist him with his undressing. Aemond swats your hands away. You frown but wait for him as he removes his hard cock from his trousers. Your mouth waters at the sight of him; long and thick, slightly curved, and just as pale as the rest of him with a tuft of silver curls around the base. He strokes himself a few times, enjoying the sight of you on your knees before him. 

Aemond brings his hand to the back of your head, fisting it in your hair and tugging harshly. Your head snaps back and Aemond taps the head of his cock against your bottom lip. 

“You want to act like a little slut, I’ll treat you like one,” he says, shifting his hips, “Open up.”

You widen your mouth as he eases his cock in, trying to remind yourself to breathe through your nose as you gag around his length. Your eyes water as he rocks his hips, thrusting himself down your throat. 

“Fuck that's good,” he says, the grip on your head unrelenting with each roll of his hips.

Saliva pools in your mouth, dribbling out the corners and down your chin. 

“Look at you making a mess,” Aemond comments and you hum around him.

You try to move your head, but it's hard with how tight his grip is. He’s completely controlling the pace, relentlessly fucking your mouth for his pleasure. You bring your hand up to cup his heavy balls, rolling them in your palm and squeezing gently. 

You’re rewarded with a throaty moan, as Aemond’s jaw slacks with pleasure. You look up at him through tear-soaked lashes, admiring his expression hazed with pleasure. His eye is on you, watching his cock slide in and out between your lips, watching as your throat constricts every time he thrusts in. 

“There’s my good girl,” he murmurs, cock twitching in your throat. 

You choke around him as you feel his release; warm and salty down the back of your throat. He pulls out suddenly, leaving a string of cum and saliva dangling from your lips and his cock. 

“So pretty like this,” Aemond comments, doing nothing but admire the sight of your swollen lips. 

He helps you to a standing position, before lifting you up and seating you on the counter. Aemond’s hands disappear under your dress, looping around your panties and dragging them down your legs. He leaves your heels on as he discards them, pushing your dress up to your waist. 

You lean back against the counter on your elbows, breathing ragged as he spreads your legs. 

“You think that silly little boy could satisfy this pussy?” Aemond asks, pinching your inner thigh when you don’t respond, “Answer me.”

“No,” you breathe.

“No, what?”

You bite your lip, earning a sharp slap to your throbbing center. 

“No sir,” you tell him, barely a squeak. 

Aemond hums at your words letting his long fingers part your soaked folds. He tilts his head to the side, admiring your glistening sex before delivering another harsh slap. You can’t help but cry out, abdominal muscles contracting together painfully.

“No sir,” he mimics, shaking his head, “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Aemond sinks two of his long fingers into your tight, wet heat curling them upwards toward your sweet spot. Fire pools in your belly, every curl of his fingers bringing you closer and closer toward the precipice of your orgasm.

“Please,” you beg, “Please sir, please-”

“Already?” he mocks, “That didn’t take long at all, you can do better than that.”

Aemond removes his fingers, the sudden emptiness causing tears to form in your eyes. You whimper pathetically, feeling him spread your juices lower, toward your puckered hole. 

“Have you been touched here?” he asks, swirling his forefinger over the ridges of your asshole. 

You nod slightly. You’d explored anal fingering before with other partners, and by yourself. 

“Yes,” you tell him, “Yes sir please.”

Aemond presses his lubricated finger gently into your tight hole, easing into you slowly and with care. No matter what he said earlier, he’s being gentle, making sure you can take what he gives you. Your belly tightens as he leans forward, pressing his mouth against your soaked cunt, as your ass completely takes his finger. 

“G-gods,” you stutter as his tongue flicks against your sensitive clit, “Oh my gods.”

The words come out as barely a squeak as Aemond dips his tongue into your dripping center, finger fucking your ass in tandem with his tongue. It’s so fucking good, your hands bury themselves in his hair, nails digging into his scalp hard enough to draw blood. 

Aemond moans against you as he continues his movements. 

“Please sir, please I need to come,” you tell him, and that’s all he needs to slow his movements.

You cry out in desperation, begging him not to stop though he continues to do so, easing his finger from your ass and peppering your soaked mound with feather-light kisses. You flinch at each kiss he presses against you, far too overstimulated.

“I knooow,” he murmurs, condescendingly, before rising from between your legs and heading toward the kitchen.

You hear the water of the sink and turn your head, watching as he washes his hands. Aemond turns to look at you. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” he asks, shutting off the water and drying his hands. 

You frantically nod, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes. 

“Please,” you beg, voice cracking with desperation, “Please sir, please!”

Aemond tilts his head to the side and appears convinced by your broken cry, the way you tremble on his countertop. He walks over to you, moving some hair from your face before lifting you into his arms, and cradling you against his chest. You nuzzle into him desperately as he walks down the hallway and into his bedroom. 

He deposits you on the soft silk bed sheets, discarding his pants, and unbuttoning his shirt. You rise from the bed, hurriedly removing your dress with shaky limbs. Aemond sinks to his knees before you, undoing the straps of the heel on your right foot, then your left. He places kisses up the side of your calf as he makes his way back to a standing position, finally letting his mouth meet yours. 

You’d missed kissing him, moaning into his mouth as his tongue slips past your lips. His thumbs tease the hardened peaks of your nipples, before tugging on them, sending more wetness pooling between your legs. His arms then wrap around you, pulling you onto the bed with him. 

Aemond lays on his back, motioning for you to straddle him. Eagerly you climb onto him, legs on either side of his slim waist. The head of his cock nudges your slick folds and you lift your hips before sinking down on top of him. You throw your head back, crying out at the delicious stretch as he bottoms out in your warm pussy. Fuck his cock is perfect, it's not fair truly. 

You roll your hips, nails digging into his pectorals as you begin to ride him, chasing the high he denied you so far. Aemond’s hands rest comfortably on your hips, his eye never leaving your face. He soon grows tired of your languid pace, placing his feet against the mattress and thrusting upwards, meeting you as you slap back down onto his thick cock. 

Wet slapping noises fill the room along with steady whimpers and moans you are unable to silence. 

“Please,” you beg, desperately grinding your clit against him, “Please professor I need to cum, please let me cum, make me cum-”

You continue to babble as you ride him, warm pleasure leaking into your limbs, but never quite enough to let you reach your peak.

“You’re going to behave now, aren’t you?” Aemond taunts, laughing slightly as you nod, eyes squeezed tightly shut, “Let me take care of you, baby.”

You open your eyes as Aemond flips you onto your back, his cock never leaving you. He slings your leg over his shoulder and pounds into you desperately. The fire in your belly ignites, abs tightening, toes curling from pleasure. 

“Cum all over my cock pretty girl,” Aemond tells you, snapping his hips furiously against you.

The coil inside you snaps and your pussy tightens around him, constricting him as your orgasm shatters through you. Aemond fucks you through it, prolonging your pleasure until he finds his release inside of you. He doesn’t pull out, simply lays beside you, with his cock inside your warmth. 

“I think I’m going to keep you,” he murmurs, lips ghosting across your cheek, “Keep you right here, would you like that?”

“Yes,” you breathe, drunk with pleasure and wanting nothing more than to stay right in the position you’re in.

Aemond hums, pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder. 

“What kind of breakfast do you enjoy?” he asks, after a moment of comfortable silence.

“You’re letting me stay the night?” you ask.

Aemond’s arms tighten around you.

“I said I’d like to keep you,” he tells you, chuckling. 

You snuggle closer to him, keeping a leg wrapped around him so he can stay inside you as long as possible. 

A meow comes from the doorway, causing you to lift your head. Vhagar watches you, less defensive than before. Perhaps she’s warming up to you as well.

note: as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are GREATLY appreciated (but never expected) though you will receive an internet kiss on the forehead from me if you do so, okay love you bye!!

[malevolententity]

Staring at you with my big eyes

(I know nothing about vtm aside from the suckening but it really interests me and I'd love to hear about about edward and the vampire micro politics)

HELLO!!!!!!! THANK YOU FOR ASKING!!! WELCOME TO VAMPIRE POLITICS 101 EDWARD TWILIGHT IS SO SO FASCINATING TO ME and i have no idea if charlie did any of it on purpose because i dont know if he actually looked that deep into the politics of vtm to plan for any of this.

how do i start this. youre getting an essay. dear lord this is going under a cut. because i gotta explain the normal politics before i can get into why edward politics is so fun for me personally.

everything below comes with a massive banner of context that i have been obsessed with vtm for a literal 13 years. so i have a lot of opinions on how stuff can be explained mechanics and lore wise. that charlie might not agree with and/or might not have been intending the read to be because we are two different storytellers.

SO in world of darkness (the book setting) there are three main political parties. there are the Camarilla which are traditionalists who created the rules of the masquerade and they want kindred society to be united and for there to be a hierarchy. this is the governing body that charlie has implemented and plays around with. then there are Anarchs who obey the general masquerade because they recognize its usefulness but they do not believe in a true hierarchy and bending the knee to The Prince of a city. and then theres the Sabbat who think the masquerade is stupid and think that kindred should live openly and blatantly rule over humans.

charlies camarilla is so interesting from the get go because queens are not a thing. thats a charlie thing. so were already off to a fun micro politics of what the fuck? hey charlie? is The Queen part of the inner circle and the head of the camarilla of the entire world? and you just invented a title? bro? because why would she as just prince of LA be called queen? female princes are still princes. so i work under the assumption that she is part of the main governing body for the entire world camarilla not just LA. because normal princes live in their cities. if she lives in fucking romania in umber castle shes not just a normal prince.

so within the camarilla theres a bunch of jobs but the main ones charlie plays with is primogen, sheriff, and prince. and he does a decent job at explaining them. primogen are voices of their clan. they are the most powerful person in the clan in a given city and serve to represent the needs of the clan within the camarilla. not every clan gets a primogen as it depends on if theres enough camarilla kindred in that clan to warrant needing a primogen. the sheriff is the front facing enforcer of the rules. who is elected by the primogen and prince together. and then the prince is The Prince. they are like a dictator mayor. they are the one who creates and expands the masquerade rules of the city to make sure that mortals do not become aware of vampires. princes are typically not elected; they come about from coups or if the old one wants to abdicate they endorse/instate a new prince.

theres also keepers, harpys, scourges, seneschals, heralds, archons, and justicars. but explaining those does not help with my why edward is fascinating so i can go into those a different time. also because we only have maybe two examples of those within suckening.

SO IN ANARCHS which charlie never brings up to my memory theres a lot less official titles! you have the Barons which function similarly to a prince but they will kill you if you say that; hate princes with a passion. cities depending on their size will have a number of barons who control neighborhoods/sections of the city. they all work together but compete with each other to maintain their footholds in the city and to resist the princes rule. and then the other main one is Proctors who just keep tabs on whos in the territory and doing what. which can function as mini sheriffs. 

so using LA as an example edward rules over the entire city but unless he killed all the anarchs in the city the specific territory of santa monica has a baron who also imposes rules on the kindred of that specific territory.

and then we have the Sabbat who charlie also never brings up. who also have their own chain of command in cities but also the world at large! the most important titles here for this talk are Bishop and Archbishop. a Bishop is going to be akin to a primogen it is a title that is given to a powerful kindred who then leads a large group of sabbat within a section of the city. bishops answer to archbishops. and an Archbishop is akin to a prince. they are the sabbat ruler of an entire city. every sabbat within that city ultimately answers to them.

a big thing with the Sabbat sect as a whole is they do not care about the masquerade. they commit mass masquerade breaches be it mass turning events or just having them run around in the wild doing whatever not caring if kine see a vampire using their powers or feeding.

Edward Twilight is a serial masquerade breacher. like theres no way around it. like yes he is a toreador so he is going to want and demand the attention of everyone. but theres a line. and one of those lines is mass ghouling an entire city and making a large portion of the mortals in your city look like you. that is an insane massive breach that is going to get the inquisition/grimslayers to raid your city because thats not normal. that is a massive red flag that vampires are there. that is a thing that only sabbat would do.

because even with charlies camarilla being his own spin on it and not 100% by the book. i can not bring myself to accept that a genuine camarilla member would pull the shit edward does. like it does not make sense to me. and thats slightly compounded by the fact that camarilla traditionally; even the toreadors; want to stay hidden. they do not like mortals knowing vampires exist they LOATHE cellphones because cellphones put a camera in everyones pocket and is the easiest way to make the entire world aware of your existence and status as a monster. and then your meet your final death when the city gets raided. camarilla toreadors chase fame and beauty but theres still a line ya know.

a sabbat on the other hand? loves a cellphone. doesn't give a shit if the world is aware of them because being known isnt a threat, its the goal. it is the goal to have humans aware that vampires are real and you can be one or to serve one.

so with all that said. i genuinely believe that Edward Twilight is an Archbishop of the Sabbat who has been playing the longcon with the Camarilla. because he is involved in the camarilla, theres no denying that. he has underlings that are clearly real camarilla and work in camarilla terms and conditions. but all of his goals that we know about just scream sabbat to me. he has been vying  for the prince position trying to get that endorsement from shilo to further legitimize himself and his hold on the city, that is a fact. but the amount and types of breaches he commits are the kind no right minded camarilla would commit and he does not have an affliction that drives him to madness. so to me he comes off as a sabbat agent trying to destabilize the cams.

theres also the factor of viv and vex. traditionally in VTM, clans are predisposed to certain political sects, with special cases made for individual vampires. in lore this is because the different sects will consider entire clans just a walking masquerade breach that they don’t want to deal with. so having them be a part of the sect is rare and special. now every storyteller handles this differently some are rigid by the book and some just do what fits best for the story they want to tell. charlie ran this in v20 and by v20 lore tzimisce are purely sabbat because they are an inherent breach. they are a clan who makes weird meatball creatures and turn themselves into literal flesh monster that barely look human. and in v5 tzimisce as a whole are welcome to anarchs but only individually welcome to camarilla. charlie mixes a bit of v20 and v5 because he read them both and touchstones are a thing so we know he pulled some v5 things. but with the shit viv and vex do i just find it hard to believe theyre genuine cam who respect the masquerade. those are edwards fellow weird little sabbat guys who are helping him destabilize and take over. they made edward sexy. they are the ones performing the procedures to turn ghouls and bloodbonded vampires alike into edward clones. that is the most sabbat ass shit ive ever heard of besides mass turning events and weird meatball snuff films

edward twilight is fascinating to me regardless of if m right. because knowing charlie and his love of bits and “well wouldn’t that be silly” it is likely that edward to him is just a genuine camarilla toreador primogen who climbed the ladder and his version of the camarilla are a little more lax in some regards. or because of the bloodbonding the other primogen and deacon won’t go against edward and his mass breaches.

but for me it is so much more interesting to think of edward as an archbishop who decided to infiltrate the camarilla god knows how long ago to become a prince and then probably climb up even higher into the Inner Circle because literally too many details line up and point at that being a possibility for me to ignore as coincidence.

because we do know that this campaign was supposed to be about the political climb until they all started playing and charlie realized that the boys ended up being more interested in the relationships and personal mysteries than an actual political power struggle against each other campaign. so i KNOW he had to do some amount of research into the camarilla i just dont know how far into the other sects that research went to have him genuinely on purpose make edward a sabbat.

and i cant wait for season 2 to drop eventually so i can learn if i put in waaaay too much thought into all this because i know too much about this system. or if charlie actually did an insane amount of research on vtm politics and i picked up on clues that are genuinely there LOL

i really hope this made sense and you enjoyed it! it’s like 4 pages long and if theres anything in here that needs clarifying i will gladly talk even more or explain other things within vtm because this is my favorite system and i do Not know how to be normal about it :D 

[poorwritingandstalecoffee]

Larissa Weems x Reader Headcanon

HC: Larissa being pouty for Y/N’s attention

Larissa Weems is many things, and pouty is not one of them—at least to her, that is. She’d pull her hair out in frustration before admitting she needed love and attention.

To her, pride and professionalism are everything. Considering she is at the forefront of operations for Nevermore Academy, she feels it is her responsibility to put the needs of her students and faculty above hers.

So it comes as quite a shock—one that completely vexes and confuses her to no end—that she finds herself aching for your touch and words more so than she usually does.

No doubt that Larissa loves and adores you and will always be thinking of you during her day, but she prides herself on her ability to separate personal feelings from work duties, especially when she is filling out paperwork, directing meetings, and handling the troublesome nature of unruly students within the walls of her school.

To say the least, she becomes beyond furious with herself that she cannot prevent feelings of anxiety and yearning from gripping her heart and clouding her mind with images of your soft, strong arms holding her. Because damnit, it's the middle of a school day, and she cannot just call you away from teaching a class to hold and comfort her, despite how much she wants (needs) you too.

When lunch rolls around, she's practically shaking with repressed stress and anxiety as more self-loathing and deprecating thoughts swarm in her mind. Her hands are clenched, white-knuckling the desk or armrests of her chair to prevent herself from storming out of her office and finding you. Her leg is bouncing, the heel of her shoe tapping rhythmically against the floor as she reread the email for the hundredth time from a teacher she's long forgotten the name of because they simply are not you.

Larissa checks her watch not two seconds after the first time, wondering where you are and mentally scolding herself again for wishing you were here and this day would end already.

When you open the door, two containers of heated leftovers in your arms, her head jolts up, and Larissa sighs, thinking, FINALLY, you're here.

It takes you one look at her tensed form, her downturned lips, creased brows, and anxiety-filled eyes to understand that she needs something she does not know how to ask for. Larissa is the most put-together person you know; it's one of the many attributes you love about her—her near-constant composure and pragmatism in stressful situations most adults would cave under. So you hurry to her, place the lunch on her desk, and round the corner to ask her what's wrong.

Larissa doesn't give you the chance, though, choosing to pull you by the waist toward her and hug your midsection. The second she releases a shuddering sigh into your stomach as you run your fingers through her hair, you know exactly what is wrong. You amusedly stare down at her because anyone who saw Principal Larissa Weems pouting for love and attention would faint from the shock.

You understand, though, everyone needs love and care eventually, including Larissa. You knew it would be a matter of time before the stress and anxiety of maintaining an entire school would become too much for her.

So you kiss the top of her head and mention canceling your last two classes for the day. They're electives anyways, mostly enrichment clubs you proctor, and you have unfinished grading that needs to be caught up on anyway.

Larissa tries to argue with you since the last thing she wants—loathes doing—is getting in your way of teaching because she needs your attention. She's not a teenager, for fucks sake; she can keep her emotions in check.

And you know that, but you also see how she is barely holding back from crying from the anxiety of imagining you in any place but her arms. You level her with a firm but understanding look, not giving her a chance to scold herself for taking up your time, and tell her to “stop talking Larissa, and let me hold you.”

An adorable blush blooms across her cheeks as a testament to her surprise at seeing you take charge of her needs. No one considers her a person needing love and care because she doesn't give them the opportunity. So Larissa shyly smiles and hesitantly presses back against you in thanks.

You kiss the top of her head as a silent thank you for her cooperation, and she takes the chance to pull you onto her lap and hide her face in your warm chest, thanking whatever deity out there that you are real and all hers.

[imakeupthingsaboutkilljoys]

Look Alive, Sunshine / Na Na Na

Look alive, sunshine 109 in the sky, but the pigs won't quit 109 is his radio frequency, the 'pigs' refer to anyone working under BL/ind (so, Dracs, Exterminators, and SCARECROWS). You're here with me, Dr. Death-Defying I'll be your surgeon, your proctor Your helicopter Pumpin' out the slaughtermatic sounds to keep you alive The purpose of his radio station is to guide Killjoys through the desert. Does it imply that he's guiding newer escapees? It works, especially considering that this is the first track on the album; we're the new Killjoys he's guiding. A system failure for the masses Anti-matter for the master plan Fighting against BL/ind. Louder than God's revolver and twice as shiny Killjoys and self-expression. This one's for all of you rock'n'rollers All you crash queens and motor babies Listen up

Conclusion: This is from the perspective of Dr Death. He's guiding us through the Killjoy's world.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The future is bulletproof The aftermath is secondary The BL/ind slogan. It's time to do it now and do it loud Killjoys, make some noise Killjoy rebellion and self-expression. Na, na-na, na-na, na-na, na-na Na, na-na, na-na, na-na Na, na-na, na-na, na-na Na-na, na-na, na-na The "na"s are probably taunting/teasing, but could just be singing along. Who knows. Drugs, gimme drugs, gimme drugs The BL/ind methods of mind manipulation. Eight legs to the wall The fab four logo (the spider). Is it because they're pests to BL/ind? Hit the gas, kill 'em all And we crawl, and we crawl, and we crawl Crawling through life, out of sight of BL/ind. Also a spider logo reference. From mall security To every enemy We're on your property Standing in V formation No matter how hard people try and exterminate them, they will find a way to rebel. Let's blow an artery Referenced in the music lyric video to be about fast food, possibly linked to American consumerism. Eat plastic surgery BL/ind prioritises conformity---is plastic surgery encouraged in Battery City? Keep your apology Give us more detonation Oh, let me tell you 'bout the sad man Shut up and let me see your jazz hands Reference to "Behind Blue Eyes" by The Who. They are seen as villains in the eyes of BL/ind, but really they just want freedom. Remember when you were a madman Thought you was Batman And hit the party with a gas can Their aspirations to be heroes. Kiss me, you animal More freedom of expression, especially if this has queer subtext. You run the company Fuck like a Kennedy The link between freedom and power. I think we'd rather be Burning your information Anti-corporation sentiment. And right here Right now All the way in Battery City Battery City is the city run by BL/ind. The little children Raise their open filthy palms Like tiny daggers up to heaven Rebellion and a (possibly) futile hope for freedom. And all the juvie halls The people apprehended for fighting the norms. And the Ritalin rats The people who were controlled by BL/ind medication. Ask angels made from neon And fucking garbage Radioactive. Scream out, "What will save us?" And the sky opened up Reference to Destroya, possibly. More likely it's their belief that the Girl will play a major role in taking down BL/ind. Everybody wants to change the world Everybody wants to change the world But no one, no one wants to die They know they'll need to sacrifice themselves to make their difference. Make no apology It's death or victory Again, knowing they must sacrifice themselves. On my authority Crash and burn, young and loaded Power in the youth. Drop like a bullet shell People will need to drop (die) in order to succeed. Dress like a sleeper cell Wait for the word that victory is near. I'd rather go to hell Than be in purgatory It's better to die a sinner than have done nothing to stop a worse evil. Purgatory could also reference BL/ind mind control. Cut my hair Gag and bore me Removing self-expression and liberation. Pull this pin Let this world explode Reference to the Girl's fate.

Conclusion: This is all of the fab four singing, like an anthem for the Killjoys, and establishes their desires, beliefs, and goals.

[lovebvni]

Shifting tips plz?

hey hon!! i’m going to be honest, i’ve been avoiding answering this because i feel like this is a three part thing. before shifting, during shifting, and after an attempt. so im gonna try to answer it like that.

!! long blog ahead !!

pre-shift

• before a shift, it’s good to meditate. get your mind, soul and intention on one thing, making an attempt.

• set an intention/affirm! for a few minutes, just say “i am going to shift.” “i have shifted.” “i will shift this attempt.” “i always succeed when i shift” or things like that. get it deep into your mind, into your bones! let the universe hear it!!

• do something to tire you out PHYSICALLY! this is some advice i haven’t seen before, but has helped me. if your physical body is tired, it’s easier for it to fall asleep so it can recover. but, after exercising, your mind and subconscious wasn’t doing much, so it still has energy to spare!

• hype yourself up! another thing i don’t see much, making yourself excited to shift. if you’re pumped with adrenaline, and then you’re about to do that action to get where you’re going (example, you got ready for a party and you’re getting ready to go in your car) you’re going to be like going CRAZY mentally and this will help u so much!!

• reflect! yeah, this is similar to affirming, in the way you’re reminding yourself of what you did and what you can do. remind yourself of that he attempts you made in the past, the symptoms you got, the times you temporarily shifted (or minishifted if u call it that) remind yourself of your power, your abilities!!

• read your script to where you’re shifting! if you have a script, of course, i know some people mentally script or don’t script much, but look over it if you have one. change little things, remind yourself what you look, the colour of your eyelashes compared to your eyebrows. random things like that.

• visualize it. “thoughts become things. if you see it in your mind, you will hold it in your hand” — bob proctor. this isn’t limiting yourself to visualizing, hell, you can SAY you’re doing it. like i sometimes tell myself “i’m going to shower” or “i’m going to make a blog today” then i do it. i saw it in my mind, i spoke it, now i hold it in my hand. and there’s proof! witnesses, bro! sometimes, all you gotta do is think it and believe those thoughts are real.

during a shift

keep focus! or as my pastor once said, keep watch! watch your thoughts, watch your mind. if it starts drifting away from the method and you start thinking you want a sandwich ( *cough cough* me and @shiftingwithhale *cough cough* ) then refocus and redirect your thoughts. “i accept this thought, i will now move back to shifting.” then focus on shifting again. your mind WILL wonder, and that’s not a bad thing! you are human as much as you are god! you will make mistakes! but that doesn’t mean you keep making those mistakes. yall, i accidently stole once and i CRIED MY FUCKING EYES OUTTT!! before returning it. i was so upset i accidentally stole, and i went back in that store CRYING when I gave it back.( i was like 4 btw. i was so scared, it was cold n i wanted to ask my mom for smth but i forgot when i was holding her hand 💀)

listen to a sub/theta waves/a guided method! just something! it helps the brain focus and calms the crazy side. this is obvs if u have the ability to. for example, i know someone who can’t have their phone after a certain time + their parents make sure to take it before and check on them. they aren’t into shifting, it just makes it extremely difficult to talk to them after a certain time 🙄🙄 if u can’t do this, dw!! listen to a sub before going to bed/while doing hw :)

when intrusive/negative thoughts come — “why am i doing this?” “this is stupid.” “i what if i mess this all up bc i gotta sneeze” WHO TF CARES!! LITERALLY MOVE. TELL THEM TO SHUT UP. TELL THEM U WRE BETTER! OR EVEN TAKE A BREAK BRO! the break can literally b a few minutes js to regroup. sit up so you won’t fall asleep, open your eyes, count your fingers and toes (LMAO?? this is specific to someone) and tell yourself “i can do this because i’ve done it. plus other people have done it, all over the world! if one can achieve, so can another.” i feel like it’s so powerful just to remind yourself that if other people can do it you can. if you wanted some new shoes but js got fired from your job n you don’t know what to do, then just wait for a moment. talk to ppl you know. get it done somehow, because eventually you’ll get those shoes, if not better ones!

just do it bro 💀💀 like actually. if you fall asleep after counting to 17 WHO CARES! an awake method can b an asleep method. your brain shutting off does not equal your subconscious shutting down. dude, it CANT DO THAT!! it’s always working, and it works better when your body is resting. keep that in mind.

after an attempt

CELEBRATE i don’t give a shit if you fully shifted or not. you did something. you committed to it. sure, i know it’s hard to keep high spirits, but celebrate the little things. isn’t thanksgiving coming up? be thankful that u found out abt shifting. be thankful you can do an asleep method n shift that way. don’t b mad u didn’t wake up in ur dr, be happy you woke up in a parallel reality and you’re even closer!

write down what worked and what didn’t! if something in your method frustrates or confuses you, change it or remove it. if you visualize in the middle of the method, and you don’t like it, drop it 🤷 do what helps YOU PERSONALLY! use this as a form of journaling. and also, take a deep breath and write out your frustrations w shifting. then write what you love about it. always balance the negative w positive <3

do a reality check! make sure you’re not in a dream. weather you shifted where u want to or not, it’s always good to get in the habit of doing reality checks. it may surprise u and allow u to lucid dream and then shift!!

be in the present! if you didn’t shift, fuck that! you’re here right now and that’s what you can control! sure, you didn’t shift in the PAST but you can in the PRESENT and the FUTURE! so focus on that. it helps with your hope and motivation <3

that’s all i have for u lovely! if i think of anything else, i will update this blog, bc i do rlly believe and hope it will help people <3 this is another blog that made me think, so thank you for that! :)

i love u honey!! i wish u the best on your shifting journey !!

[n3on-graveston3s-calling]

Working on the Carrd with transcribing and the Livestream was such a fun subtle horror masterpiece with mind control.

Like what the fuck was this section huh? Haha what???

I love it.

In case the pictures don't load-

As soon as the song ends, the camera turns to static, resembling an interrupted broadcast or "Lost Signal" sort of static. We are suddenly back with Lisden and Sacarver, who look a little worse for wear. Sacarver now has much darker eye makeup, her hair is slightly messed up, and there is blood on her scarf. Good Day can be heard being played on the ukulele in the background. *"There is absolutely nothing missing from this collection. Every song that you remember is included."* An attempt to give a sort of nostalgia to this new album; Sacarver sounds hoarse and winded.*

*The camera pans to Lisden, who appears to have had a bloody nose during the time off screen. Blood is dried beneath his nostril, and blood is dripped onto his pale yellow sweater.* *"The first time I heard these classics-"*

*The camera pans to the table. The items (album, cassette, CDs) have shifted and fallen over. "Mhm!"*

*-"I remember, it brought tears to my eyes." Lisden turns his head, revealing a bruise that is forming on his left cheekbone and temple."*

*Sacarver sighs. "Oh, so many great memories." Another attempt at faux nostalgia."You know, I just felt TRAPPED not having these in my life!" She turns to look at Lisden, "Until now!"*

*The camera focuses on Lisden, who looks slightly panicked. "Sally!" He looks into the camera, and speaks in a nearly robotic tone, as if he were were reading off of a proctor. "We all will feel trapped if we do not get our hands on this MAGNIFICENT collection!" The camera focuses once more on the album.*

*"So many colors, so many special moments!" Sacarver speaks. "You can just FEEL," she runs her hands over the box set, "it."*

*"I know!" Lisden agrees.*

*The camera focuses on his face. He seems dazed as he blinks hard, his smile looking incredibly forced. Sally speaks, "So many classics like The Outside!" The camera focuses on Sally before drawing out. "It just filled me with so much contentment!"*

*The camera refocuses on Lisden, who still looks pained and slightly forced.. "Yes, contentment." He draws in a breath." Don't wait another minute!" Intense eye contact with the camera. "You need to get this collection in your life!"*

*The camera pans back to Sally, who is smiling before it drops very suddenly, her face almost drooping as her eyes are suddenly very clear. Her voice loses all forced joy or sense of showmanship. "But remember? You should-" The broadcast is suddenly interrupted by static once more.

[gildeheartlockroy]

Free Response

Gilderoy Lockhart/Female Reader One-shot

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Warnings: explicit, smut, professor/student relationship but reader is of age (7th year)

Also not proofread because I’m ashamed of my latest hyperfixation

My AO3 collection of Lockhart fics

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…” you hear one of your classmates grumble from in front of you, voicing the entire class’ thoughts.

There are only so many times you can defend that smiley idiot. Sure, you can be delusional at times—foolish on occasion—but even you know that this is just absurd.

How can you possibly justify another pop quiz that has zero to do with defending yourself against the Dark Arts, the very subject that you’re supposed to be learning here? Another pop quiz about Gilderoy Lockhart’s evening haircare routine, with a strong focus on which tonic he prefers over the other?

There is no way in hell you’re going to be able to rationalize this as just another misguided attempt by the flashy professor to entertain you all and take your minds off the rumored Chamber of Secrets. Not when Lockhart looks as if he’s proctoring an O.W.L. rather than a list of questions you’re pretty sure he grabbed directly from Witch Weekly.

He paces along the perimeter of the classroom, observing the class for any signs of cheating. You don’t know how to tell him that nobody—not even you—would resort to that for such a pointless quiz, mainly because that would be more effort than his class is even worth.

You used to take pride in acing these quizzes, back when you were just another one of his awestruck students. Much has changed since then, but these pointless, self-absorbed exams of his have stayed painfully consistent.

What exactly are you supposed to do with this information after you graduate…?

When you get to the final two questions— “What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite snack?” and “What is Gilderoy Lockhart most proud of?” your mind immediately supplies several lewd responses that you mentally chuckle at. Imagine the look on his face if you actually…

Your eyes briefly snap up to where he’s standing over one of your classmate’s shoulder, tutting loudly at whatever half-baked response the disgruntled boy wrote. Beside him, a few of his friends audibly snicker, which makes Lockhart look around suspiciously.

You quickly turn back to your quiz before he can make eye-contact with you, and you brazenly decide to spice things up for once.

After all, you’re fairly confident he won’t actually discipline you for it. Not if he doesn’t want to risked getting sacked first.

Half an hour later, Lockhart collects the quizzes and shamelessly rifles through them at the front of the room, his feet propped up on his desk.

While he does so, your classmates exchange exasperated eye-rolls but for once, you’re paying rapt attention.

“Some of you really need to read Gadding with Ghouls again,” he chastises your class, flipping through the pieces of parchment with a dissatisfied frown. He opens his mouth to make yet another complaint, but the words die in his throat as his widening eyes stare at one particular student’s answers.

Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite snack is me. His favorite flavor is whatever my pussy tastes like.

Face flushed and heartbeat thrumming in his eardrums, he can barely process the last question’s response.

Gilderoy Lockhart is most proud of the way he fills me with his cum almost every night after fucking me all over his classroom and office.

Truthfully, you almost chickened out of that last one. However, you only had about a minute to make that hasty decision and you opted to just throw caution to the wind.

Good thing you did, too, because you’ve never seen him so flustered that he can’t even speak. Hell, he hasn’t moved a muscle since he saw the absolute filth you wrote on a graded quiz, one you’ll inevitably fail if he turns out to find the whole thing in poor taste.

After several minutes of unusual silence, with most of the class now expectantly waiting for the slack-jawed professor to announce the overall results of the quiz, Lockhart finally gathers himself and clears his throat.

“For homework, I want you all to redo this quiz and tell me which exact chapter you got your answers from.” When he receives only a chorus of exaggerated groans in reply, he loudly adds, “And I expect you all to reflect on why you missed such easy questions to begin with! Now, I’m going to hand back your quizzes. Come on up when I call you, then you may go. Let’s see…”

Huh. That’s unusual.

He’s never ended class this early before, and he sure as hell has never bothered to return your classwork individually.

However, it doesn’t take long for you to realize that he’s deliberately placed your quiz in the back of the pile.

One by one, your classmates hurriedly flee the classroom before Lockhart decides to assign another poem on top of the quiz redo. He waits until the last student is halfway out the door before finally calling you up.

You pretend not to look too guilty as you awkwardly amble towards the front of the classroom, where Lockhart is perched on the edge of his desk and making a show of flipping to the very last page of your quiz.

“While I’m fairly confident that I remember most of what I wrote in my number two bestseller,” he begins in a low voice, shaking his head in disbelief, “I must know where exactly in Gadding with Ghouls did you find the answers to these two?”

“The unreleased copy,” you reply immediately, having spent the last eight minutes preparing your comeback while you waited for the rest of the class to leave. “The one you’d find in the Restricted Section.”

Lockhart audibly gulps as you draw closer, reaching out for your quiz. You innocently brush against his white-knuckled fist as you try to grab the parchment, but he swiftly reaches behind him and shoves them into his desk drawer.

You raise an eyebrow and he grins. “There’s no need for you to do the assignment. Full marks as always.”

And before you can let out a sigh of relief, he grabs you and practically throws you onto his desk, sending a few of his framed photographs and several copies of Magical Me crashing to the floor.

Your panties are off in a second, and you see him shoving these into his robes for safe-keeping.

“Hey! I like those,” you complain as you make yourself comfortable on the polished surface, spreading your legs and flipping your skirt up for good measure. Lockhart practically starts drooling and, lacking any form of self-control, hungrily shoves his face between your legs to lap at your wet slit.

You gasp as his tongue slides into your tight heat, his nose pressing against your clit. When you begin to grind down on him for more friction, he growls and wordlessly begins teasing your cunt with a finger, roughly sliding his tongue over your clit. Your legs shake as he adds another finger, clearly impatient and perhaps a little irritated at your cheeky behavior. Still, you can’t deny that seeing him so serious—so unamused by your antics—has you soaked in anticipation for whatever retaliation he has in store.

Lockhart sucks your clit between kitten licks, fucking you quickly with two fingers as he does so. Your hips move on their own accord, grinding into his hand and face as you chase your release.

When you’re close, you half-expect him to pull back and rightfully deny you your orgasm. After all, you’re the one who unashamedly put him on the spot today for no real reason other than to see his reaction. To your surprise, however, Lockhart only fucks you harder, shoving his fingers as deep as they’ll go while sucking on your clit so hard that your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You cry out his name as you fall apart for him, gasping as he continues to fingerfuck you and trace circles on your clit with his hot tongue. It’s only when you pat his head, silently pleading with him to give you a break, does he detach himself from your lower half, panting heavily and looking absolutely debauched.

While you catch your breath, he shakily unbuttons his trousers and shoves them down just past his thigh, along with his briefs. You catch sight of his flushed cockhead jutting out of his golden robes and you don’t hesitate to reach out and gently stroke him before attempting to guide him towards your awaiting entrance.

Unfortunately, this position isn’t the most comfortable given how unexpectedly Lockhart threw you across his desk. Not to mention, a wooden surface cluttered with books and various pieces of parchment isn’t the most comfortable place to lay back on…

“Hold on,” you mutter as you hop off the desk. You grab the handsome wizard’s shoulders and firmly push down, gesturing for him to sit on the floor. He does so with a confused tilt of his head, which instantly snaps back in surprise when you unceremoniously sink down on his eager cock, your cunt easily accommodating his familiar length. You bottom out in one smooth motion, rolling your hips when you feel him brush your cervix. He groans as he shakily leans back against the front of his desk, eyes trained on your bouncing form as you ride him for all he’s worth.

After a few unsuccessful attempts, he finally manages to sync his thrusts perfectly with your movements so he meets you halfway though your descent. That only makes you grind on his cock harder, which in turn drives him to buck up with more force. It almost feels like a contest that neither of you want to lose—not that there are any losers in a situation like this—and all you can think of is how perfectly his cock fits in your cunt and how much you want to feel it pulse inside of you.

Lockhart seems to be thinking the exact same thing because he bares his teeth and starts fucking up into you in sharp, quick bursts. You almost topple over from the sudden change of pace but he grabs your arms to hold you steady and as he takes charge and holds you still while he continues to piston his cock in and out of your slick core.

Dazed, you can only watch as he nears his climax, his eyes glued to where his cock disappears beneath your skirt. When you reach down to lift the garment so he can see better, his eyes widen in surprise and then he looks at you almost helplessly as he spills into you with a hoarse, drawn-out cry of your name. Rolling your hips slowly to help him through his orgasm, you lean forward and press your lips against his. Lockhart kisses you back eagerly, sloppily. His tongue finds yours and you smile as he explores the inside of your mouth. He only pulls back to hold your hips still with a hiss, his oversensitive cock twitching inside of you.

“I really am most proud of this,” he mutters into your neck when he can finally trust his voice to speak. He leans forward to rest his forehead against yours as you laugh breathlessly.

You hope he never stops giving those stupid pop quizzes.

[banned-for-horny]

the following is an INCOMPLETE drabble of a genshin smut one shot (a smutshot, if you will) idea i have that i dont feel like throwing to the void but also was too lazy to make another note so i'm just throwing it here

[As part of his training as a Fatuus, Lyney has to undergo days of torture. He's already managed to get through most of the gauntlet. All he has left to deal with is the final stage: sexual torture under the hands of the Black Widow.

And from the way his dick jumps the second you stroll into the torture chamber, Lyney doesn't feel all that confident in his chances.]

Lyney is still tied to the chair when the door opens. He doesn't have the strength to lift his head, most of it being channeled into ignoring the pain of multiple hairline fractures in his shins, but when his chin is lifted by a single finger, he finds just enough energy to swallow.

"Morning," you chirp, smile the first warm thing he's seen since last week. "You still with the living?"

And that's the first thing he's heard that hasn't been an explicit threat on his life. Lyney swallows around the blood clogging his throat and nods, which only makes your smile grow.

"Good." You reach up to brush his sweat-soaked hair away from his brow. "I'll patch you up real quick, then we'll get started on the next stage, 'kay?"

Lyney...doesn't know what to say. "You're...going to heal me?" he manages when he catches a glimpse of your Hydro Vision.

"Mhm." With a practiced flick of your wrist, you bury a polearm formed by water between the legs of his metal chair. Elemental energy begins to seep through his skin, and Lyney lets out an exhausted gasp when the full-body ache began to fade. "Not the biggest fan of playing with broken toys, unfortunately."

Toys? Hydro Polearm? Soft, pleasant smile that makes every nerve in Lyney's already-fried system tingle? "You're the Black Widow?" he croaks.

Your smile lifts, both fluttering his stomach and sending it into the floor. "My reputation preceeds me!" With a little flourish, you bow at the waist. "That I am, Monsieur Snezhevich. Worry not, though-" You lift your head and wink. The front of your shirt falls open well enough for Lyney to see the full expanse of your chest and stomach. "-I don't bite."

The polearm bursts, splashing Lyney's legs with water. Whatever raw energy is stored in the hydro-formed weapon seals the gashes in his skin. Another sigh escapes him, only to choke halfway when you use his knees to support your crouch. You're not wearing gloves, unlike the rest of the proctors. It's almost too warm.

"These guys are too rough sometimes, I swear," you mutter, eyeing the bruising along his inner thigh from where a proctor decided to aim his heel. You peer through your lashes as you squeeze his knee in reassurance. "Can't heal you all the way," you say apologetically, "but I do have some salves just for you. Want it?"

Lyney nods, then bristles. Wait, wait-

"Oh, I recognize that look," you huff. Your nail skims the flesh of his thigh, creeping dangerously close to what little scrap Lyney has left covering his penis. "You're allowed to talk, you know. I like it when they're loud."

Lyney grits his teeth as your fingers creep closer to his groin. He can't afford to get distracted, he reminds himself. You won't kill him, obviously, but the whole point of this training was to find his weaknesses if he was ever captured and interrogated, and any crack in a dam will only lead to the entire thing bursting. He just has to outlast you.

The proud smile you flash at him definitely doesn't help. The way your voice drips with excitement when you say "Good boy" does not help either. You rise from your crouch, palm soothing his thigh-

"Fuck!" Lyney hisses when you palm his crotch, shuddering as you grind the heel of your palm down his clothed shaft. For a Hydro Wielder, your touch feels electric, pinpricks stabbing at his spine until he's stiff on both ends. It's not like he hasn't touched himself before, but there's a difference between getting himself off just to get rid of morning wood and someone else groping him.

"Are you a virgin?" you ask as give his shaft a gentle squeeze. Lyney's lips curl, channeling the influx of heat into a glare that only makes you squeeze harder. "I'll take that as a yes."

You release his erection, giving Lyney just enough time to exhale until you retrieve a small jar from your side pocket. The aroma of Sumer spices stings his nose. When you scoop a generous glop and massage it into his bruised thighs, the cool touch of your Hydro begins to simmer under his skin. Everywhere you spread the salve, you leave behind a burgeoning warmth that tickles his throat and escapes in a strangled whimper.

"Feels good, right?" you coo as his skin begins to flush. "This is my own concoction. Makes the body extra sensitive."

Yes, Lyney wants to say when you poke the tip of his nose. He can tell.

By the time you finish massaging the cream into his skin, Lyney's entire body feels like it's been left in the sun to burn. With the coarse fabric scratching his hardening nipples every time he breathes, he's starting to regret allowing his last proctor to redress him. Never mind the little jolts of pleasure bursting from his cockhead when he tries to sit up.

"There," you say, sealing the jar. You bend over to smile and poke at his jaw. "How do you feel?"

Burning. Dying.

Your little laugh chimes in his ears. "Good, that means we can start properly."

Lyney's brows furrow. Oh, right. He has a dossier he memorized, like, a month ago. You and the rest of the proctors received the same dossier and are trying to pry it out of him. He's heard plenty of stories about the Black Widow portion of the exam, in equal parts embarrassment and anger. Not everyone receives the same treatment, sure, but almost everyone Lyney has talked to had to go through the entire gauntlet twice because of you. He risks a glance around the room while you're busy circling him. You didn't bring in any tools or anything. What could you possibly have pla-

"Ah!" Lyney gasps when your arms snake around his neck. You waste no time planting a hand against his stomach, slipping down to stop just below his navel.

"Let's start slow," you murmur in his ear. "Be a good boy and answer my questions and I'll make this quick, okay?"

'Quick.' Hah. Lyney inhales deeply in hopes of calming himself. All it does is flood his nose with your scent.

You seem to take that as his assent, though, because you trace a finger over the tent in his shorts and say, "Who hired you?"

Silence. Obviously.

"Are you part of any organization?"

Silence. Easy.

"Did you have a partner?"

Too easy. Lyney's starting to wonder if everyone lied in an attempt to psych himself out.

"Who's Lynette?"

"Wha-ah!" Lyney chokes on his gasp when you squeeze his erection. His knee jerks in its chains, stomach curling in some attempt at protecting himself, but you keep one hand burried in his roots and yank his entire body back with a single pull. It should've been painful. He still moans. Your other hand pumps faster this time, tightening the coil deep in his gut. Already, he can feel himself creeping towards climax. There's a virgin joke somewhere in there, he thinks, but his hips are already lifting in time with your touch.

Until you pull away.

Lyney catches the moan before it escapes him, planting his ass against the chair to stop from chasing your hand.

"She your partner?" you ask.

"Reacted to that one," you note, pressing your thumb right under the head of his cock. His jaw tightens. From the way you nudge his jawline, he doesn't doubt that you can tell. "Your partner in crime?" Heat sputters in Lyney's chest, a horrible concoction of rage and arousal as you massage his cock. There's a wet patch starting to bloom at the head. He shouldn't be surprised you know Lynette, he thinks. In fact, he's amazed she's only being brought up now. He and Lynette don't exactly hide themselves from the crowd.

"Let's see.

[idlyfretting]

Yep, I crash landed from that year-long stranger things obsession directly into hp territory.

All you need to know for this is that Harry was re-sorted into Slytherin at the beginning of fifth year. Umbridge still torments him, and most of the other stuff in OotP still happens, maybe? But Harry has adopted a sort of apathetic outlook, rather than an overtly rage-filled one. It's not great but it's also not terrible? Mostly just annoying. And this is that annoyance bubbling over.

Because Malfoy is still a little shit. Enjoy.

Ao3: that came from my mother's side

.

As much as Harry missed eating breakfast with his friends every day, he had to admit he liked the quiet of the Slytherin table in the mornings. Sure most of his new housemates hated his guts, but they mostly kept it to glares this early in the morning, leaving him free to look over his essays or school books. He’d never been able to read this far ahead before, and his marks were clearly benefiting from it. Potions was an outlier, but Harry had learned long ago to ignore the actual grade on any essay or worksheet from that particular class. Apparently the OWL scores were what mattered anyway, and those were proctored by outside instructors, not Hogwarts professors with a grudge the size of the moon.

So he appreciated the additional study time.

“I swear, how has Longbottom survived this long?”

Except when it was interrupted by useless commentary from his least favorite classmate.

“No idea. Dumb luck, probably.” Parkinson’s answer was aloof. She flicked her hair over her shoulder, pursing her lips at Malfoy who was seated next her. “He’s a horrible excuse for a pureblood, I can tell you that.”

“Total disgrace,” he agreed readily, smirking at her. “He’s never looked me in the eye, you know. Guess that just means he knows his place.” He puffed up his chest obnoxiously. “Or he’s just terrified of me.”

Harry, who’d started packing up his things the moment he heard Malfoy’s voice, couldn’t hold back his snort.

The blonde and his yearmates whipped their heads around to stare at Harry, most of them sneering once they realized who it was.

“Have something to say, Potter?” Malfoy asked, an annoying twinge to his tone. “Don’t forget I can still punish you as I see fit.” He tapped his prefect badge.

Harry nodded in his direction, trying to not let any irritation enter his response. “Feel free to take as many points from Slytherin as you think necessary.” 

Malfoy’s face tightened and his lips curled back. Rather than respond to Harry directly, he instead continued on with his earlier topic. “Longbottom is a worthless excuse for a wizard. He’s not even a proper Gryffindor, if there even is such a thing.” He glanced across the table at Crabbe and Goyle. “What kind of lion runs away from a snake?” The two boys and Parkinson laughed mockingly. 

Harry had been content to just leave, feeling more irritated with the others than any actual anger. But as he was standing up, he caught sight of Umbridge sitting at the head table fairly close to the Slytherins, giggling into her napkin in obvious mirth.

Yeah, fuck that.

Harry slung his backpack over his shoulder and made his way over to stand facing Malfoy across the table, his back to the rest of the hall. The others’ laughter faded away as he stood there staring at Malfoy. Just as the other boy opened his mouth, Harry sighed loudly.

“You look a lot like your mother, Malfoy.”

Malfoy blinked a few times before responding back with a baffled, “What?”

“I always used to assume you were a carbon copy of your father. And you kind of are, with that hair and those clothes and that sense of superiority,” Harry continued, voice calm and almost airy, not leaving any room for interruption. “But you actually share more physical features with your mother. Your eyes, your cheekbones, your jawline. Which makes sense, I guess. I’ve heard her family’s genes are quite potent.”

Malfoy and his lackeys looked utterly confused. A few seats down from them though, Harry saw Theodore Nott grip his fork a little tighter than necessary. Sitting across from him was Daphne Greengrass, her shoulders a tense line and her head just slightly tilted in their direction.

Harry focused back on Malfoy. “Neville looks like his mum, too. He’s shown me some pictures. Same nose, same laugh, same hairline… It’s odd, ya know? From what other people have told me, I’m a carbon copy of my dad.” Harry shrugged, letting out a light huff, like this was funny. “When some people look at me, all they see is James Potter. Neville says it’s sort of the same for him, at least with some of his mother’s extended family.”

A sizable section of the Slytherin table had gone silent by now, made obvious by how the rest of the house tables had continued on behind Harry like nothing was happening. He didn’t relish the audience, but he still had a point to make. 

And he desperately wanted to put Malfoy in his place.

.

read the rest on Ao3

[onceandfutureoshainspector]

- back to the Airport again.

Ingram: Looks like the Mark 28's are going to do the trick. That was a good find. Li: I'll work with your team to ensure that Prime's bombs remain stable after they're loaded into his pack. It won't be too much of a problem. Ingram: Well, Doctor Li, I have to admit, we couldn't have done this without you. Li: It's a little early to begin celebrating, Proctor Ingram. We haven't fully thrown the switch on Liberty Prime, and I'm just hoping all the work I've done to keep his systems stable are going to hold. Cat: Are you sure this is safe? Ingram: Of course. I've checked every connection, every circuit myself. Prime will hold together. Li: Proctor? All the readouts look green. I think it's time for you to perform the power shunt. Ingram: Actually, I think I'm going to let you press the button. After all, without your help, we'd still be staring at a pile of disassembled parts.

- these two seem a lot more civil and courteous to each other this time around. they 100% banged it out while i was gone.

- welp, big red button time, i guess.

- wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey.

Liberty Prime:

- ...this guy has said four words, and he already sounds like A Lot. :/

Ingram: All right, let's run a basic diagnostic run. Liberty Prime:

Li: Give him a moment, he needs to adjust to his new configuration. Liberty Prime:

- oh my fucking god. this is like Ironsides all over again, but quite a bit less endearing. :/

Ingram: Now let me run a system analysis and battle readiness check. Liberty Prime:

Ingram: I've got green lights across the board here. He's looking good from where I'm sitting. Doctor, if you wouldn't mind keeping an eye on the big guy here, I'd appreciate it.

- well, i guess the good news is that this unholy terror is on a literal leash - if he needs to be hooked up to his balloon battery to function, that significantly limits the amount of havok he can wreak.

- Ingram gave me a thing for my set of Power Armour that i definitely haven't mislaid, and then sent me up to speak to Maxson, who i assume has another mission for me.