This Is Kol Mikaelson With Davina

don't go Nanamin don't go

may you never forget me | nerdjo x f!reader

one: lingering, like a ghost

summary: he has everything he’s ever worked hard for, except for that one girl who was in at least one of his classes each semester for the entirety of college. he never tried to actually get to know you, but he did help you in ways you'd never know… one of them was getting professor gakuganji fired for calling you out in class. graduation day was supposed to be the day he finally confessed, only for you to not show up at all. what will he do when he sees you again 5 years later?

genre: unrequited love, smut, angst, fluff, one-sided love, gojo’s lw crazy, very observant of reader in all there classes together, nerdjo has an existential crisis in between graduation and seeing reader again, set in the present but will have many flashbacks, more to be added

a/n: HI WELCOME TO THE FIRST CHAPTER! So real quick, this is in present time, but this fic will have a lot of flashbacks to when gojo and reader were in college. We are starting off strong with a gojo pov, enjoy and see you in the end notes ❤️ 3.7k words

SONG REC: night tapes - drifting

masterlist

Contrary to what people may have believed, Satoru never really liked school. Yes, he got good grades, has even won awards throughout his childhood. It’s learning that he likes– astronomy, taking random language classes, historical documentaries, it’s not that hard getting him interested in new subjects. 

But school itself? He actually kinda loathed it, to tell you the truth. 

Starting from kindergarten, when his nanny literally abandoned him in a class full of random kids and some grumpy old lady, that really should’ve been a fucking drill sergeant rather than a teacher, all the way to his first day of college, when he had to walk through school gates alone for the first time in 11 years. 

Thanks a fucking lot Suguru. 

…Mind you his best friend still finds himself having to apologize for not getting accepted into the same school.

Whatever. It was different that time around, college didn’t require you to have friends to get by, you can actually just go straight to your apartment (or dorm) after class. 

Not like those first 12 years of school, where you were literally stuck with the same shitty people for 8 hours a day. That’s probably the biggest reason why he loathed it so much. 

College was significantly better, everyone was less annoying too. There were still cliques of course, but not to the same extent as the ones in highschool, where they could reign terror on other students for 4 agitating years. 

He never had to endure bullying himself. Most people already knew which family he was a part of from just looking at him, the hair gives it away. 

But he did have to witness his other classmates go through it– shit was brutal. And for someone who didn’t like people all that much, it got annoying quick. 

Like c’mon— if you really hated Ijichi, you wouldn’t even spare him a glance, let alone spend your free time harassing him. 

Satoru apparently saved him that day. 

Ijichi’s worked at the company for 3 years now and which each year that passes, he finds himself thanking Satoru for that. 

The thing is, no one ever tried to get involved whenever this group of kids cornered Ijichi. Everyone was either too scared to say anything or just didn’t care. 

The best day of Ijichi’s life was the day Satoru rushed out of his house and left his earphones at home. The stars seemed to align that day since the library was also temporarily closed. 

The next best study spot for Satoru? Literally any empty classroom, he just needs it to be quiet. 

The silence he so badly needed that day only lasted 20 minutes. It came to a screeching halt when Ijichi literally goes flying through the fucking room. Satoru almost told him to shut up, but then he heard 3 other kids making their way into the classroom, laughing and taunting him. 

Satoru ended up closing his textbook and notebook at that point— to think he’d be able to finish all of his work before going home was pure delusion. 

He peeks at the end of the room to take a look at Ijichi’s limbs tangled all over the desk, which quickly made him cringe. That’s gotta hurt bad. There wasn’t much Ijichi could do either, he was this scrawny kid who had a hard time speaking up, when it came to anything. He remembers offering Ijichi a pencil after seeing him at his desk, staring at his broken pencil in silence, all while everything else continued doing their assignments. He said, and Satoru quotes, “Oh n-nO, it’s fine! !I don’t nEed onE~”

Ijichi was seriously planning on sitting there for the rest of the period, doing nothing, because he was so afraid of accepting a pencil from Satoru. 

Satoru didn’t have time to sit there, trying to convince Ijichi that he was just as deserving of a pencil as everyone else and ended up throwing it at him. 

Ijichi yelped. 

There’s no saving him. 

Well, at least not he’s yelping, they fucking winded him. Did the 3 of these guys pick him up together and catapult him into the classroom? He doesn’t even want to know. 

He’s more annoyed that these guys had to come in and fuck up his study session. He had to attend a clan meeting with his father tonight, he didn’t have time to do his work at home. 

“...Why are you guys so obsessed with him?” Satoru abruptly asked, right as Ijichi was about to get grabbed by one of the boys. His tone was anything but accusatory, he was genuinely curious. 

“Us?” One of them laughed. “Obsessed with him? He’s a fuckin’ loser, no ones obsessed with him.” 

“Are you sure..?” Satoru looks back and forth between the group and Ijichi, who looked like he was actually going to piss himself. “I feel like the first thing you guys do whenever you have the free time is look for him.”

“And what’s it to you? Tryna come in and save the day?” One of them cuts in, trying to antagonize him. That doesn’t really work with Satoru though— if he thinks you’re gonna end up nowhere in life, the last thing he’ll do is take you seriously. 

“I was just wondering.” Satoru shrugs. “Saying you're not obsessed with him, but then going straight to him every time lunch starts and school ends is honestly just kinda weird. It’s like your day revolves around him.”

One lets out a low laugh, “You’re calling us weird? That’s rich coming from you— only reason why nobody touches you is because everyone knows who your family is.”

“That’s—“ He immediately cuts himself off in order to get his thoughts together. Everyone’s confused, Satoru looks incredibly uncomfortable as he tries to figure out what exactly they meant by that. “So what you’re saying is you’d… touch me if I wasn’t?”

“Wh– no, not like tha– why don’t you just shut the fuck up and mind your business.”

“I was, it was you guys who came here.” Satoru reminds them in his still visibly disturbed state. “…to touch Ijichi— wait nooo.”

Satoru’s eyes widened in shock after jumping to his own conclusion.

“Why the fuck are you so focused on that word?!” 

“Why are you so focused on getting Ijichi alone??” Satoru responds with a question of his own. 

“We were gonna beat his ass!” The shortest one in the group says, but his words never reach Satoru’s ears.

His jaws practically on the floor and ends up having to put his hand over his mouth, just for the dramatics. His eyes slowly lose their vibrancy as he starts to look back and forth between the bullies and Ijichi— who still has yet to speak up. 

His silence makes it all look so much worse than it actually is.

“You guys like Ijichi.. like that?”

“…”

Crickets. 

They miraculously left Ijichi alone after that day– not out of guilt, but because the fucking digimon freak genuinely thought they were obsessed with Ijichi. 

After working for Satoru for some time, he realized he had just put on an act to get the group to leave him alone. What he didn’t know was that he only did that because he didn’t have his earphones that day and couldn’t concentrate with them torturing him in the background. 

But even if he found out, he’d still be thankful. He was saved around the time that group of boys started getting more aggressive with him, he’s sure they would’ve broken a bone or two towards the end of senior year. 

He also realized another thing, Satoru’s a smartass. 

It made him wonder if he was like this all along, or if he just found himself when he went off to college. 

He was always like this at home and unfortunately never fucking found himself in college. He’s not afraid to admit all that he had missed out on by keeping to himself so much. 

Sure, he made a few friends here and there, but he could’ve made more by joining clubs. He could’ve had more memorable nights and weekends if he had kept up some of the conversations his classmates tried to start with him, rather than just saving the discussions for his professors. 

Keeping up the grades and being at the top of all of his classes didn’t even matter if he had to be honest with himself. He would’ve still ended up working for his family’s company regardless of what his grades were. 

The only thing he took away from those four years, aside from the degree, was that life waited for no one– not even for the Gojo clan's golden boy. 

That’s right folks! Even the cities' most desired bachelor has a certain someone that got away. What’s even worse is she didn’t even fucking know, because he never tried to talk to her ever in those four years. 

It’s not like she was hard to reach either, he had at least one class with her each semester, they probably had the same major. He’s not 100% sure though, because he literally has never talked to her— but fuck, he honestly tried in the end.

Those last two weeks leading up to graduation were spent mustering up the courage to approach you and coming up with what to actually say.

He needed it to be interesting, the typical “hey, let's keep in touch!” wasn’t going to work because there was never a connection to begin with. He’s even pretended not to hear you at the library once during junior year.

Why? He doesn’t know. 

After what felt like a never ending back and forth with himself— coming up with different pick up lines and then dropping them, because he sounded fucking pathetic and gave himself secondhand embarrassment— he decided he was going to be honest.

“Hey! I know we didn’t talk much– totally my fault by the way, too nervous I guess– is it too late to ask for your number?”

It was sincere, honest, and the furthest thing from pushy. It would’ve worked. It was a good, solid plan that he was going to go through with on graduation day.

Yet when the day came? You were nowhere to be found.

He didn’t even hear your name get called.

Can he be mad? Only with himself, he had 4 years to say something to you.

Life waited for no one.

Even if that was really the only “life lesson” he learned, it was just as valuable as anything else, and decided he didn't want to miss out on anything, anymore.

Did he go a little overboard postgrad?

Mmmyeah he sure did!

Very overboard– apparently it was something about how isolated he suddenly felt after graduating, mixed with the realization that time doesn’t and will never stop, ended up triggering a full blown existential crisis in your boy. 

His therapist explains it a little better… psychology is that once section he tries to stay away from.

But did he have fun?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

He still does, just not the type of fun where he woke up confused as fuck in a holding cell. Or the night ending with someone’s husband chasing him out of his home, after catching his wife cheating on the bed they shared.

Please don’t ask him if he knew or not.

It’s been five years since he graduated, his little party animal phase has toned down for the most part. The need to make up for lost time no longer gnaws away at him. He’s made more memories than most these last 5 years, he’s satisfied. His “wasted years” have now reverted back to being his “uni days”– a thought that’s able to pass, rather than a regret that consumes him. 

But he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t tried googling a certain someone's name throughout the years though. His therapist asked what would change if you actually did show up in the search results. Not genuinely, but to try to turn it into a whole conversation about how it wasn’t going to change the past and blahblahblah. 

No fucking shit. 

He’d still follow you though and slide into your dms real smooth. 

“What if she was married or in a serious relationship?”

“I’d still say hi? What’s the issue with saying I recognized her and realized she was an old classmate?” 

Apparently the difference between randomly stumbling onto a profile and directly searching for one was the issue. He was glad that subject came up towards the end of their session, he was not trying to sit there for a whole hour being told that innocently saying hi to an old classmate wasn’t “healthy” for him— fuck all the way off, Calvin. 

Surely he saw the way Satoru’s eyes momentarily darkened when saying goodbye, that should be a good indicator that he wouldn’t be back for more sessions, because he fucking sucks at his job. Satoru was still a nice person though and decides to text his personal assistant to cancel the rest of his scheduled appointments with the shrink. 

| Akira: Would you like me to provide a reason?

| S. Gojo: Nah.

He doesn’t owe him anything, if anything he deserves a refund for today. Let’s hope the next therapist will be a little less pessimistic. 

—

That very first semester actually wasn’t when he started growing interest toward you. Of course he thought you were cute, but looks weren’t enough for him to go out of his way to speak to others back then, unless it was for a group project. Plus, you sat on the opposite side of the lecture room, coming and going through a different door than he did. 

It was his second semester that he started to acknowledge you more, in his head at least. You were in 3 of his classes that semester, which made you hard to miss if you asked him. Especially the one on Tuesdays and Thursdays, where he had to watch you struggle to set some solid boundaries with a guy who was too cocky to take a hint. 

At first he felt nothing but second hand embarrassment towards Kairo, maybe he just wasn’t very good at reading others. Then he started to feel kind of bad for you. Feel bad about the way he’d watch your shoulders slightly drop whenever that guy came to talk to you. How you’d stiffen up whenever he leaned into your space. You even used a different tone with him, because he absolutely was the type of guy to read in between the lines, instead of actually listening to the words you’d say. 

You could tell him you weren’t interested and he’d think you’re playing hard to get if your voice rose in the slightest. 

Then one day you came into class a little later than usual. Satoru already knew that was going to suck for you, Kairo sat right in the middle of an area that was fairly open, meaning you’d be forced to be close to him regardless of which seat you chose to sit in for that day. 

You could imagine Satoru’s surprise when you suddenly asked if you could sit beside him on… an end seat, rather than the two empty ones to his left. 

He almost offered them to you, but then he realized you probably wanted to hide behind him and ended up murmuring a quick “yeah”. 

Nothing else was said between you two after that. You didn’t even look in his direction, all to avoid Kairo’s gaze. You’ve been in enough classes with Satoru at this point to know he wasn’t going to talk unless it was to ask the professor a question, so that was probably the first time you’ve gotten a chance to relax in that class since it started. 

Luckily Kairo had already been expelled from the school by the time you returned to the class that following tuesday. Meaning, you got to relax for the rest of the semester.

The school tried to keep the reason under wraps, but it eventually slipped out and spread like a wildfire. Around 200 photos from a certain album on his phone had been emailed to just about every employee at the school. From professors and office attendants all the way to the principal and deans. Even if the school had tried to cover it up, it would’ve been impossible since authorities had been tipped off about the emails and were there to take a look first thing in the morning. 

There were no explicit details on what the photos were of, but it’s pretty obvious if the law got involved. The one thing nobody could figure out was who got the photos and emailed them to everyone, with full evidence they belonged to Kairo. 

But like every other scandal that happened in school, that was easily forgotten in less than a month. Even with Kairo being gone, you never went back to that side of the room. Satoru figured that the view of the projector screen was better from where he usually sat, it explained why you were usually a few seats away from him for the rest of that semester.

There were days where you’d walk past him and the smell of your perfume would linger for a while. He didn’t notice it that one time you sat next to him, his mind was too busy thinking about things that were a little more important, but it didn’t take long at all for him to notice afterwards.

He couldn’t figure it out– kinda fruity but not sweet, warm but not vanilla or musk, unavoidable yet not overpowering. 

He liked it. To this day he still hasn’t been around anyone who’s presence continued to linger around the room like a ghost after they’ve left. 

Time had flown by fast. Before he knew it, sophomore year had begun. The thought that you could be in one of his classes again never crossed his mind prior to going back. It wasn’t until that second week where he genuinely felt your absence. Interestingly enough, it was someone else’s perfume that made the realization hit him like a fucking truck, literally. 

It was so fucking offensive that it made him miss you, which even he thought was ridiculous at the time given how he’d never even spoke to you– yet there he was, wishing you could magically switch places with this girl. 

You eventually showed up on the third week of school, back from an overseas vacation. He knows because the professor singled you out and made you explain it in front of everyone, even after explaining it was a family emergency and the school excused it. He still wasn’t satisfied and continued to grill you.

“You’re an adult, you have your own responsibilities that need to be taken care of, you clearly didn’t have the consequences in mind and thought being with your family would shield you from them. That’s not how the real world works.” 

That old fuck was just rambling at that point, he was convinced he was trying to get out of an hour long lecture and was planning to throw the blame on you. 

“Professor Gakuganji?” Satoru eventually raised hand. “Weren’t we supposed to have a lecture today?” 

“Yes, we were.” He nods then looks back at you, “You can thank your classmate for interrupting my class.”

Some students groaned at that, while some looked at the old man in disbelief since you had arrived on time. Either way it was just annoying. 

“I don’t see how that should be everyone else's problem.” He says in response, which shocks some of the students because this is the most they’ve seen him talk. It’s hard to tell who he's annoyed at right now, you or the Professor. “We pay to be here at the end of the day, sir. A lot of our parents aren’t going to be very happy about us failing a quiz on a subject that you won’t teach us.” 

That wording seemed to get him to actually do his job, but it wasn’t enough for you, you never set foot in the class again. Must’ve been humiliating to have that happen on what was the first day of school for you. No one forgot about it either, especially on the days Gakuganji felt like being an asshole and making it everyone else's problem, again. That day gets brought up by someone at least a couple times a week, mainly serving as a reminder to not expect much from the old man. 

Yet for Satoru, the story of the girl who Gakuganji grilled was a reminder of something else. He eventually realized it was never the perfume. 

You didn’t need it to continue to linger around.

When the next semester comes, he finds himself in two classes with you. 

You don't get harassed by any students this time or get singled out by the professors either. Which was great, it was harder to get that old man fired than he had originally thought. 

And that was someone who wasn’t even liked by the other staff.

As for Satoru, he still didn’t talk to you, but that’s nothing new. Up until last semester, you thought he was nothing but this shy, quiet guy that kept to himself. 

Maybe he just had social anxiety or something, so you tried not to judge him. He never causes trouble for anyone. He even let you sit next to him that one time, when he could’ve easily said no after seeing the other empty seats around him. 

It wasn’t until Gakuganjis class where it all made sense. 

He’s a pretentious dick who thinks the world revolves around him. You’d think that being in an unfair position, someone would at least stand up for you, yet Satoru Gojo decided to do the complete opposite that day. 

“Can you start the lecture already?”

“That’s not my problem.” 

“I pay to be here.” 

How about try being the one that’s paying to be scolded?

And of course the one time he speaks up, it’s about himself!

You thought karma was doing its thing when Gakuganji got fired right when winter break started, but she’s clearly got some unfinished business with you by making you be in not just one class, but two of them with him. 

For once, you were glad he ignored you.

next

a/n: HI HELLO WELCOME TO THE END OF THE FIRST CHAPTER!! tysm of reading till the end I appreciate it 😚🫶🏻 okay! notes/recap:

poor satoru with his crush and turns out reader does NOT like him

you guys he fired his therapist that's so bad ??

gojo 2 kairo 0 gakuganji 0

ooo so do we think he's evil or???? guess we'll just have to find out 🙂‍↕️

Ko-fi link if you're feeling generous and wanted to show extra support ❤️

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so i know who i'm looking at! a sukuna ryomen oneshot

pairing ⸺ ghostface!sukuna x reader

summary ⸺ on halloween night, you get a strange phone call from a man with a distorted voice right as you're chilling while babysitting yuuji. you get an ultimatum: perform for him, or risk your and yuuji's lives.

warnings ⸺ smut, fluff (at the end), pre established consent but dub con just in case, cream pie, lots of degradation and praise, “good girl,” oral sex (m!recieving), recording and pictures, suggested infidelity (but it’s not actually infidelity), exhibitionism, reader gives him a show in exchange for her life, rough sex, semi-public sex, established relationship, mdni, pls help me find artist for credit :(

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

you stretch, yawning as you adjust the blanket you had on you to cover you and give you warmth on the chilly october evening. gazing forlornly at the balcony window outside, you see kids and college students alike in their halloween costumes visiting homes for treats and bars for booze, respectively. tonight was a night you were supposed to get dicked down by your boyfriend in the bathroom of a frat, but you’re stuck instead with a last minute call to babysit yuji because he’s sick. 

you love the kid too much, like he’s your own baby. which is why you couldn’t refuse playing babysitter, even if that meant forgoing pictures for your instagram with the slutty angel costume you had bought a month who in anticipation of halloweekend. instead, you’re tucked in and cozy, watching scream for the nth time just to fangirl over how hot ghostface is. 

so you’re in your tank top and boy shorts, relaxing and chilling (that is, as much as you can while locked in on your movie). and, as if on cue, the moment the phone rings in the movie, the itadori household’s phone number gets a call.

you jump at the noise, a bit on edge because of the movie and definitely regretting the idea of setting the living room pitch back in spirit of mood lighting. groaning (albeit a bit freaked out), you get up to answer the call, as yuji babysitting protocol required that you answer any call in case it may be an emergency.  

picking up—but a bit on edge—you drone, “itadori household, how can i help you?”

there’s heavy breathing on the other end and you hate your scaredy cat tendencies because your heart is picking up at the distorted and low pants. “h—hello?”

“hey.” the voice is low, just like the breathing, and for a moment, you hate your brain for immediately recalling the nsfw audios you watch to masturbate because the guy on the phone sounds exactly like them. it’s a little freaky that you’re getting such a weird fuckin call at this time, but regardless you persist, in case this was relevant. you kind of need this job.

feigning cheerfulness, you ask, "what can i get ya?" as your fingers absently toy with the thin strap of your tank top. the cool air from the nearby vent sends a shiver across your skin, but the silence on the other end of the line is more unnerving. you're met with nothing but heavy breathing, and each exhale seems to scrape against your eardrums.

shifting uncomfortably, you feel the sweat beading at the nape of your neck as impatience builds. your fingers tighten around the receiver. "are you gonna talk or should i hang up?" you finally snap, agitation bleeding into your voice.

but before you can slam the phone down, he speaks.

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

a groan escapes you, the kind that rises from deep in your chest, exasperation overtaking any lingering nervousness. "look, buddy, this is soooo corny. like, i was literally just watching scream, so you’re not doing shit. if you wanna prank call a girl, try somewhere else because—"

“you got a boyfriend?”

“i do,” you quip back quickly, a hand on your hip as you stand straighter, eyes flicking to the doorway of the kitchen. shadows dance in the dim light, your heartbeat subtly picking up pace. you move to hang up the phone, more irritated than frightened now. “so you better not try anything funny and waste more of your time, you fu—”

“but he’s not sleeping upstairs with the kid?”

the world freezes. you pause, the phone hovering mid-air. what did he just say? your pulse quickens, each thud louder than the last as dread claws at your chest. "what?"

a laugh, deep and guttural, slithers through the receiver. it’s the kind of laugh that makes your stomach drop and your legs feel weak. his voice is smooth, velvety even, and it curls around your ear like smoke. despite the creeping fear, something primal makes your thighs clench involuntarily. “okay, now that i’ve finally got your attention, let’s try this again. what’s your name, baby?”

that word—baby—the way he drags it out, rich and slow, makes your heart stutter, even as fear wraps tighter around your ribs. you grip the edge of the counter, nails digging into the cool surface. “why do you wanna know?”

“so i know who i’m looking at.”

the room spins. your breath falters, shallow, barely there. it’s like the walls are closing in, and your throat feels thick with fear. you lick your dry lips, throat tightening painfully. “wha—what do you mean?”

a soft coo hums through the phone, mockingly sweet. “no need to be afraid, pretty baby. you don’t want the kid upstairs to die, do you?”

your blood turns to ice. the words don’t make sense at first, but when they do, it feels like the floor’s been yanked out from beneath you. your mind races, every nerve in your body screaming. “what the fuck? is this some kind of prank call? this isn’t funny.”

but the man just continues, as if he didn’t just say something so horrifying that your stomach churns. his voice remains steady, eerily calm. “the kid, how old is he? five, six? he’s dozin’ off in those stupid iron man pj’s of his.” you swear you can hear his smile through the phone, a wicked curl of satisfaction. “and i love those shorts on you. parading your ass around like the slut you are. how’d your boyfriend leave you alone tonight?”

the walls feel like they’re closing in. a cold sweat breaks out across your skin, and suddenly the room feels too small. your eyes dart toward the darkened stairs. every creak of the house becomes louder, sharper. the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as you swallow, mouth dry as cotton. it feels like someone is watching—someone who shouldn’t be there.

for a second, you digest the information he’d bestowed upon you—information about yourself. not-so-subtly freaking out, you get out a “please, please don’t do this.” 

 “then gimme a show. follow what i say.”

“o—okay. what do you want me to do?” you’re trembling, your realize, in your fear. or was it arousal?

“come closer to the window,” the voice purrs. you tentatively walk up to the balcony window facing the itadori garden, awaiting instructions as you stand shivering with the chill of the air.

“now,” the voice instructs, “take your top off. gimme a show, alright? better see that fucking back arch when you’re talking it off like filthy stripper slut you are.”

you whimper in humiliation but follow his instructions anyways, slowly becoming more and more of a slave to your arousal, caused by his assured and suave voice. when you take your tank top off, back arched just like he asked, the man groans and you hear distant squelches on the other side of the line.

“good girl. now when you take that bra off, pull up your cups, but don’t take it off, leave it bunched. those tits better bounce for me.” pulling up the cups of your bra, your tits recoil and bounce and the squelching gets even louder as you feel eyes rove over your tits. “fuck, i love those tits. get on your knees and bounce em for me like you’re riding cock.” 

you clench so hard as you move to do as he says. part of you is soooo aroused to be forced around like this, so you’re easily giving him the show that he wants, getting on your knees and moving your chest so that they start rhythmically bouncing, synced up with the squelches you hear in the other side of the phone.

“stick your tongue out. drool on your tits.” you moan, your tongue lolling out as a glob of spit starts trailing down your body.

 “fuck!” he exclaims, aroused by the sight. “you like being bossed around this baby? like my little bitch?”

“no!” you sob, tears springing out at the utter humiliation you were experiencing. “please let me go, please don’t do anything to yuji!” 

the voice chuckles. “really? i think you’re lying, baby. i know that pussy is wet while you’re giving me a show. matter of fact, why don’t you show me? make sure i get a really good look at that cunt, okay?”

slipping your shorts off, you turn so that your backside is facing the lawn and uncover your traitorous pussy—glistening wet—to him. taking a few steps back, you breathe heavily—like the person on the other side of the phone—as you press your pussy against the glass, the heat and humidity originating from your inner walls fogging the area on the glass. you hear a snap! on the other side, indicated that he had taken a photo. eyes widening in panic, you ask, “what are you doing? please, i’m doing whatever you wa—”

“i can’t let everyone think you’re some innocent virgin, can i? parading your ass and pussy for me, when anyone in the neighborhood can see? matter of fact,” and you start panicking at his next words, “i’ll post this online if you don’t grind that ass back for me.”

you swallow and start to do as he says. the glass is cool as you rub your folds along it, your slick dirtying the glass as you move your folds on the glass door. of course, the glide isn’t smooth—your clit keeps catching on the glass, but the fact that you’re bare to the world, any stray eyes being able to see you on display arouses you to no extent. you’re ashamed of being aroused at having to perform for a stranger, but you continue regardless and clutch the phone in your hand as he speaks to you again.

“the fuck you so wet for?” the voice mocks you. “you get off on this shit?”

“fuck you,” you moan, continuing to rub yourself. “i hate you.” 

the man laughs meanly. “for someone you hate, you’re getting pretty wet for me, baby.” the sounds of him stroking his dick are even louder as you grind against the door at the same tempo that he moves his hand at, grunting as you continue moaning into the mic. “look at how you’re clenching—good girl. want me to come in and make you cum?”

“real fucking cocky,” you hiss into the phone, “really fuckin cocky of you to think you can make me cum. with the way you had to threaten me, i just know you have a micro.”

as soon as you say that, the call hangs up and you look at your screen in confusion. that is, until you feel hands on your bare hips, knees–covered in black fabric—pressing against the junction between your thighs. “say that again,” the voice whispers.

you turn, eyes wide and heart speeding up as you turn to see the very figure that showed up in your movie. reminiscent of the killer, a tall man in a mask is hunched over you, now moving his hands to grip at your hands. “let’s take this to the bed, shall we?”

“oh shit,” ghostface curses, continuously snapping photos of your lips, the flash going off in the dark room. “look at this,” and he brings the camera closer and closer to your pussy, using his other hand to spread your lips as you helplessly lie on the bed, forced to spread your legs for him. “this pussy clenches everytime the flash goes off!” and he’s laughing, mocking you as slick leaves your hole in drops as the utter way you’re being humiliated. he grabs your cheeks roughly with the hand that was spreading your nether regions, squeezing them together and focusing the camera on your face. “this is the slut i’m going to fuck. gonna suck my cock, right?”

“mhm,” you whimper, resigned to your fate. making quick work of his robe, he takes them off completely, still leaving his mask in place. as he uncovers his pelvis, your eyes immediately rove over the hardened muscles on his abdomen. there’s a pink happy trail leading down to his dick, which is furiously red and standing. he grabs it, pumping the length as he moves closer and closer to your face until his precum is smearing against your face.

 “fuck,” he curses, as he takes in the sight of your teary eyes looking up at him dumbly, lips puckered as he slaps his cock against your cheeks until your cheeks are turning red. you’re giving kitten licks to his tip every time he alternates between slapping your two cheeks, not knowing what do to with yourself except focus on your oral fixation telling you instinctively to suck his cock. he then uses his fingers to pull your mouth open and slowly feeds his cock inside, eyes rolling back as soon as he feels your warm breath and hot tongue encompass him. 

you’re sucking at his tip and alternating between licking the rest of his dick, and he’s lost in the tight, wet heat of your mouth hollowing around him. you then prop yourself on your knees, using your hands to grab and play with his balls, stimulating him even more and causing him to rip out of your mouth and growls, “on your hands and knees. now.”

he doesn’t give you sufficient time to turn around and fully adjust in your position as he’s slamming into your roughly, the wet plush of your pussy too enticing. because you didn’t see it coming, your face is smushed against the pillow, and he grabs at your hands, using his free hand to hold them together at the small of your back. 

“you like my cock, baby?”  he pants, sweat beginning to run down his torso. when you don’t respond, he lets go of your hands to smack you consecutive times on your ass. “answer me.”

“i love it sooo much,” you babble, too lost in the pleasure to form more coherent thoughts as you ramble. “it’s splitting me—oh my god.” your eyes roll back—in pain or pleasure, you can’t decide—as his cock kisses your cervix. the masked man keeps thrusting in you, the sounds of his hips smacking into yours echoing throughout your room in a series of plap plap plap’s. 

“yea? fuck, i’m so close. you wanna live baby?” he grabs your hair and pulls, giving you a sloppy wet kiss on your cheek. “let me come inside. you’ll let me dump my cum in you, right?”

you only clenched tighter at his words. “please,” you sobbed. “please come inside. please paint my walls. i want your cum so bad.” 

you were so close, staving off your orgasm until he filled you up. at your words, the intruder laughed mockingly and kept thrusting into you, but the telltale sloppiness of his hips indicated that he was close. “god, what a slut—” he was interrupted by his own climax, and as soon as the thick ropes of cum filled you, you came with a squeal, your back arching impossibly further as your thrashed on his dick because of the intensity of your orgasm. both of you rid it together, panting as you came down. 

he pulls out of you, and before you can catch your breath, the man flops his entire weight on top of you, making you laugh as you let out a startled exclamation, “ryo!”

you squirm beneath him, trying to push him off, but it’s futile. he’s far too big and heavy, and he knows it. with a low, lazy chuckle, your boyfriend, sukuna ryomen, removes his mask—tossing it carelessly onto the floor—before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. his breath is warm against your skin, and you can feel the heat radiating off him as his chest rises and falls in rhythm with your own.

“did you enjoy that stupid thing you wanted, brat?” he mumbles, slightly panting in exhaustion.

his words are snarky, but you can hear the affection laced beneath them. your heart swells with a sudden rush of warmth, the fondness you feel for him almost overwhelming. it’s moments like this—where he does something ridiculous just because you asked, despite all his grumbling—that remind you why you love him so much.

you wrap your arms around his broad back, fingers trailing lazily up and down his spine as you press a soft kiss to the top of his head. “you didn’t have to go all out, you know,” you whisper, smiling into his hair. “but i really appreciate it. you’re kind of the best, even when you pretend you’re not.”

ryomen grunts, but there’s no bite to it. he tightens his hold around you, his large frame practically cocooning you in warmth. you feel his lips brush softly against the skin of your neck, a tender gesture that contrasts with his usual roughness.

“yeah, well... you’re lucky i love you, freak,” he murmurs, voice low and husky. despite his usual bravado, there’s something undeniably soft in the way he says it, as if the words are meant just for you.

you hum contentedly, feeling the weight of his body press you into the mattress. it’s comforting, like being wrapped in a warm blanket. you trace circles on his back with your fingertips, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment, where it’s just you and him—no roleplay, no teasing—just the quiet aftermath of love.

“lucky, huh?” you tease back softly. “i’d say we’re both pretty lucky.”

ryomen huffs a quiet laugh against your skin before lifting his head slightly to look at you, his dark eyes soft in the dim light. then, he gets up and makes a move to walk out the door. at first, you thought he was heading towards the bathroom door to give you a towel to clean you up, but he’s heading towards the door—soft cock swinging, butt naked—and you’re only left in confusion as to what he’s doing.

“ryo, where are you going?”

“fixin myself a sandwich, i’m hungry,” he grumbles over his shoulder, leaving you dumbfounded. you’re left sitting on the bed as he continues the trek down the stairs to satiate his post sex hungries. 

“hey!” you shriek, “your balls are out! what if yuji sees?” 

later, when yuji walks deliriously into the kitchen to see his uncle’s cock and balls, he almost wishes he could fully succumb to his fever.

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"--need to go--" kiss "--just for a minute, let me--" kiss "--go to the bathroom, I--" kiss "--god, you're a menace, I'll lift you onto this counter, and you'll stay there until I get back--" giggle, kiss.

You whispered filthy whispers against Kento's lips, playfully dragging him back to you by the collar each time he tried to release himself.

Half-huff, and half-kiss, he grumbled and spun you around as you laughed, gripping your hands behind your back and pressing you forwards against the counter.

"--unhand me, wife, or I'll tie you up--"

"--don't threaten me with a good time, Kento--"

"--truly-- truly incorrigible woman--"

You laughed again, arching back against him, and pressing his cock into the crease of your barely-covered arse until he moaned; in annoyance, or lust? You weren't sure. Perhaps both. You had the bit between your teeth.

Kento wouldn't put up with your shenanigans for much longer. He slapped your arse, jiggling it with a growl, and dashed past your swiping hands to the bathroom. You whined, then sighed to the sound of his victory chuckle, the bathroom door clicking closed behind him.

Silence-- for 30 seconds. A minute. Two minutes. Three. You called out, smirking.

"Doesn't take that long to pee, Ken--"

The bathroom door clicked open. A low, mulish grumble sounded from within.

"I...can't go."

You frowned, stifling a laugh. "What?"

"I can't go. I'm too hard. I...can't pee."

Bursting out into laughter was your downfall, and it broke down into panicked squeals as Kento stomped out of the bathroom after you, his lap tightly tented over his cock.

He tossed you onto the sofa, dragging you back by the legs when you tried to wriggle and escape, and pinning you beneath him with nuzzled growls to your throat.

"--thorn in my side-- too erect to piss, and other problems my wife causes--"

"--oh, no, whatever can we do to fix this--"

"--you're talking too much and wearing too many clothes, as usual-- come back here-- certainly one thing we can do to fix this, madam--"

Men who treat you like a goddess>>>>>>

"Goddess" - Aemond Targaryen x Wetnurse!Reader

a/n: a request from my darling jojo @misguidedasgardian - hope you enjoy this, my love!!! 🩷

Summary: When Aemond meets the new wetnurse to his nephew, Prince Maelor, he is immediately besotted.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, ye olde mommy kink, lactation kink, choking, dom!reader, tiddy succin, oral f receiving, p in v sex, breeding kink

Word Count: 3,000 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

Aemond never expected himself to be so taken by a woman after only one meeting, let alone a lowborn wetnurse. But you looked at him, with that gentle smile and those soft eyes, something hidden behind them that he so desperately wanted to discover, and greeted him in that sweet voice of yours. He never had a chance against you. He gravitates toward you, finding himself in the royal nursery more often than not, engaging you in conversation as you care for little Maelor. And you never dismiss him. He just stands there in the corner, admiring you as you care for his nephew. He learns that you have a child of your own, a little boy named Robin who you love more than life itself. He knows you must be a wonderful mother and that boy is very lucky to have you. He learns that your husband abandoned you and your babe while you were still with child, leaving the two of you destitute.

It was a miracle that Helaena happened upon you shortly after you gave birth when she had gone into town to visit the apothecary. She immediately took you on as a wetnurse for her own babe, fixing you up with your own quarters in the servant’s wing, cradle included for your little one. Aemond adores how kind you are to Helaena, always treating her with respect and care, always being kind to her twins. You are the epitome of grace, he thinks, the Mother in human form. A goddess among women.

He finds you in the nursery this fine morning, holding little Maelor to your chest, rocking him back and forth as he wails. You coo to him in a gentle voice, trying to calm him.

“Shh, little prince. It’s alright.”

Aemond leans against the wall, staring at you intently, his eye trailing over the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips. He knows he should not desire you as he does. He will be sent off to marry some noblewoman of his grandfather’s choosing while you will remain in service to his sister. But gods, you are the only woman he has ever felt this way for. He watches as you place the babe in his cradle, pressing a soft kiss to his brow as he finally calms. And all he can imagine at that moment is your lips on his own as he makes you cry out his name in the bedchamber.

He stands up straight when you turn to him and smile, “Your Grace, what a pleasant surprise. Did you wish to hold your nephew?”

Aemond continues to stare at you, approaching slowly as he murmurs, “Perhaps I could hold you instead.”

You smile at him, shaking your head, “As always, you are very funny, my prince. I always enjoy our chats when you come to see the little one.”

He takes another step closer, running his fingers along your arm, fire in his eye as he replies, “You know, my lady, I find myself wanting more than a chat.”

As if on cue, Maelor once again begins to fuss and Aemond holds back his groan of disappointment as you chide him playfully, picking the babe up, “And you shall remain wanting, Your Grace. My loyalties are to this little one.” 

He moves to rest his hand on Maelor’s head, smiling slightly as he stands by your side. It’s strange, he thinks, when he stands like this, he can almost pretend that the two of you are looking upon your own little babe. And his thoughts once again return to how beautiful you would look, laying upon his bed, your face twisted in ecstasy as he fills you with seed, your belly swelling with his child.

“He’s been fussing,” you comment, rocking the baby, “It is as if he can tell that King Aegon is hurt. The poor little angel.”

Aemond extends his arms, wishing to lessen your burden if only for a moment, and you carefully shift his nephew to him, your eyes locked on each other’s. Aemond feels awful for thinking it, but he wishes the babe would stop its wailing so he could just have a conversation with you. And yet, the wailing increases when he is in Aemond’s arms. He sheepishly hands the child back to you, watching as you giggle.

“I am sorry, my prince. Sometimes, a woman’s touch is the only remedy, it would seem.”

“You are not wrong,” Aemond says quietly before smirking, taking another step closer to you, “I think that your touch could very easily cure all my ailments.”

You roll your eyes at him, smiling, “You, my prince, are incorrigible. Now, it is time for me to nurse your nephew, so I must ask you to give the two of us some privacy.”

His hand moves to rest on your waist, squeezing gently as he leans in to whisper in your ear, lips ghosting along your skin, “Surely you can find a way to nurse him with me here. I assure you, I won’t be a bother.”

You look up at him, biting back a smile, “Oh, alright. But if your lady mother hears of this, it’ll be my head on the executioner’s block.”

Aemond chuckles, the heat in him rising to unprecedented levels. He can tell that you want this, that you want him as badly as he wants you.

“Perhaps she never has to know?”

“Perhaps you ought to let me do what it is your sister pays me for,” you tease, picking Maelor up once again and moving to sit in the rocking chair beside his cradle.

He watches, his breath catching in his throat as you unlace the bodice of your dress, freeing one of your full, round breasts. Aemond feels his cock twitch against his breeches as he stares at you, watching as you dote on his nephew. The babe suckles at you as you continue murmuring to him gently, smiling down at the little prince. There is something about watching you in this state that drives him mad. The way your eyes shine with adoration as you look down at Maelor, the way your body moves as you care for him. The desire he feels for you is unlike any he has ever felt before. And he finds himself envious of Maelor’s position, wanting nothing more than to be the one in your arms, held by you as he takes his fill.

Maelor soon falls asleep and you lay him back in his cradle, kissing his forehead. You turn to face Aemond, slowly redoing the laces of your bodice, taking your time, allowing him to admire you as you do so. You’re teasing him, he realizes, putting on a show just for him. The thought excites him more than he cares to admit. You give him a half-hearted little apology, your fingers ghosting over your nipples as he watches lustfully, taking a small step toward you. You are beautiful. Stunning. Perfect. Everything he has ever wanted.

“No apologies necessary, my lady,” he says quietly, “The view from here is… Quite breathtaking.”

You give him that smile, demure and yet so very coy, “Thank you. The other nurse will be coming to relieve me soon. I bid you goodnight, Your Grace.”

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he gently grabs you by the hand, “I… I do not wish for you to go.”

“And yet I have my own babe to care for,” you say softly, “I apologize, my prince.”

“And who cares for you, sweet lady?” Aemond asks, moving his hand to your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone, “Your husband, the wretched fool, is not here to tend to your needs. No one should abandon their wife so easily, especially not a beautiful and kind woman like you.”

“So my abandonment would have been acceptable if I were ugly?”

Aemond rolls his eye at your teasing, entirely charmed by you, “Your heart is as beautiful as your face and your body. So no, it would not have been acceptable.”

“You are kind to say so, Your Grace.” Aemond watches as you begin to walk away, his gaze fixed on you and you alone.

The prince suddenly blurts out, “Do you long for me? As I long for you?”

You do not turn back, only replying quietly, “You’re a prince. I cannot long for you. Goodnight, Your Grace.”

Aemond tosses and turns in his bed that night, consumed by thoughts of you. And finally, he realizes he can no longer bear it, crossing the Keep, all the way to the servant’s wing, knocking on the door to your quarters. And when you open your door, you wear a thin nightshift, one that hides very little from his greedy gaze. And yet, you do not seem shy of the fact. You look up at him curiously.

“Is something the matter with Prince Maelor, Your Grace?”

Gods, he loves how much you care for his nephew. He shakes his head, his gaze traveling from the crown of your head to your bare feet, taking in every part of you. He steps inside, closing the door behind him, just content to stand there and admire you for a long moment before he finally speaks.

“No, nothing is wrong. I… I simply wished to see you.”

You are silent for a moment before gesturing to the cradle beside your bed, “This is Robin. My little boy.”

Aemond walks over to stand beside you, gazing down at the innocent-looking little babe as he sleeps peacefully. He cannot help but smile seeing so much of you in this tiny little creature, a soft spot forming in his heart for the boy. He looks at you.

“Surely you have enough love in your heart to care for both of us?”

You laugh softly, the sound making him shiver with want, “You jest too much at my expense, Your Grace. It is quite cruel of you.”

He shakes his head, cupping your face in his hands, his tone serious as he leans in close, “I do not jest. I want you. I have since the moment I saw you. I have thought about you endlessly. My thoughts, my dreams, all consumed by you. And I know you want me too, my lady. Do not deny me. Do not deny the way I yearn for you.”

“You are a prince,” you try to reason, resting your hands over his, “And I am merely a servant. It is impossible.”

Aemond doesn’t care for your reasoning. The only thing on his mind is how much he needs you. His lips come crashing down against yours, one of his hands cradling the back of your head as his tongue explores your mouth, moving against your own. His free hand moves up to your breast, squeezing gently, loving the way you moan against him at his touch.

“We shouldn’t,” you say between kisses as the two of you move toward your bed, “I could lose everything-”

“I would never allow that,” he vows, lips moving to your neck as he rolls his hips against yours, his length hard against your thigh as he continues groping at your breast, “You will never want for anything. Everything you will ever want will be yours. I will treat you like the queen, the goddess that you are.”

“You cannot make me yours, I am not some highborn lady-”

Aemond cuts you off with a laugh, smiling down at you, his forehead resting against yours, “I do not care about that. I care about you. Your laugh. Your smile. Your heart. You needn’t be anything other than what you are.”

You relax into his kiss, the two of you falling onto your bed, him on top of you, your lips never once parting. Your hands thread in his long silvery locks, tugging ever so slightly, enough to make him let out a low groan as he pulls you flush up against him.

“You seemed quite fascinated when I was nursing your nephew earlier,” you tease.

Aemond smirks, hands sliding up under the fabric of your shift, palming at your tits, rolling the soft flesh in his hands, “I will admit to it without shame.”

His lips are hot against yours, wanting, his breath heavy as the two of you continue kissing. Soon enough, he helps you out of your shift, admiring your bare body, your heaving chest, the stretch marks that run along your stomach, the patch of curls above where he wants to touch you the most, the soft flesh of your thighs… You are everything he imagined and more. And then? You ask him the question he has been dying to hear.

“Do you wish to nurse from me, sweet prince? I do not mind.”

He cannot help but moan, your touch on his face like fire to his skin. He closes his eye as you remove the eyepatch that covers his sapphire. He is still clothed, and yet he feels more vulnerable and naked than ever. But you just trace your fingers along his scar, pressing your lips to his brow as you whisper two words.

“Beautiful boy.”

Your words are music to his ears. He opens his eye and gazes up at you as you draw him to your chest. His breath hitches, lips ghosting across your skin before he takes one of your breasts in his mouth. Aemond’s lips wrap around your pert bud, suckling at you, his gaze locked on yours. The moment is so intimate it almost makes his heart ache, your milk spilling onto his tongue as you gaze at him fondly, your hand running through his hair.

You moan softly, the sound spurring Aemond on as you coo, “There you are, sweet boy, take your fill.”

It is as if he has died and ascended to the Seven Heavens themselves. Your taste, your gaze, your touch. He craves you like he needs air in his lungs. He moves to your other breast, loving the way you tremble against his lips, how sweet you taste, taking his fill of you as you asked. When he finally moves his lips away from you, you pull him toward you in a soft kiss, slow and sensual as his tongue moves against yours. You tug at his tunic, and Aemond does not hesitate to remove it, sliding his breeches off as well, leaving the two of you completely bare before each other.

“Can I taste you?”

You give him an amused smile, “Is that not what you just did?”

Aemond lets out an exasperated sigh, nudging your thighs apart as he stares at you pleadingly, “Please?”

You nod, your head falling back against your pillow as he begins lapping at your folds. Aemond grasps at your thighs, squeezing your soft flesh, moaning against your skin. He cannot get enough of you. Your taste is like ambrosia on his tongue, and all he wants is to keep his face buried between your thighs. He feels your body tremble as his nose brushes against your pearl, and so he repeats the action, grinning to himself at the wanton cry of his name you let out. Your hand threads in his hair as you grind your hips against his face, and Aemond is happy to give you exactly what it is you want. He continues fucking you with his tongue, moving to wrap his lips around your swollen bud, fingers teasing your folds over and over and over until you reach your peak.

He pulls back and gazes up at you, the evidence of your arousal on his lips as he presses them to your own. He is taken somewhat by surprise when you move to flip the two of you over, climbing atop him and straddling his waist. He grins up at you, letting out a groan of pleasure as you sink down on him, your cunt feeling so hot and wet and perfect around him. Aemond feels you squeeze around him slightly, the sensation almost being enough to make him spill himself right then and there, but he holds back.

“I want to make you mine,” he whispers as your hand wraps around his throat, moaning as you squeeze gently, continuing to roll your hips against his, “To raise Robin with you. To have a family with you. Do you feel the same as I do?”

“I do, my sweet prince,” you murmur softly, your breasts bouncing in time with your hips, his hands moving to cup them, squeezing them gently, “I do.”

“My goddess,” he rasps as you rest your forehead against his, sinking down onto his cock over and over, the sound of your skin slapping against his filling the air along with his moans and your own. Your hand on his throat feels nothing short of divine, the pressure bringing him closer and closer to his peak, “Marry me. My queen. My goddess. Let me fill you with my seed. Let me watch you grow round with my child. Let me love you for the rest of my days.”

“Then spill yourself in me, my prince,” you whisper in his ear, “Lay the foundation for our future together. Let yourself go, my sweet boy.”

And he does. With a low moan, his hands moving to grip your hips, he spills himself inside you, feeling your body tighten around him and relax moments later, making him realize you have reached your peak.

You lay down in his arms, pressing your lips to his jaw, and Aemond knows that you are the woman he wishes to spend the rest of his life with. He watches as you get up to check on Robin, moving to stand behind you, chin resting on your shoulder as he smiles at the sleeping babe.

He will never allow anything to keep the two of you apart. Not his grandfather, not his mother.

Nothing will part him from his goddess.

THE SWIMMING PIC HAS ME SOBBING 😭😭

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