#imogen oc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bobfloydsbabe · 10 months

Text

burning flames | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc

a gold rush fic

SUMMARY: A heated argument reaches a fever pitch for Bob and his TA.

WARNINGS: academia au, enemies to lovers (if you squint), age gap (mid-to-late 20s/late 30s), power imbalance, mutual jealousy, SMUT (fingering), bob being grumpy and rude. strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

GOLD RUSH MASTERLIST

JOIN THE TAGLIST (new form–please sign up again if you haven't already)

SPECIAL THANKS to @cherrycola27 for letting me rant about professor bob and for sending thots when i ask for them. you're a real one.

A/N: very loosely inspired by the song style by taylor swift for the wonderful @laracrofted's 1989TGM writing celebration. this was supposed to be a mob boss bob fic, but that made me cry, so i switched gears and now here we are. i'm sorry this is so late, ames. enjoy!

“That’s all we have time for today. You’re dismissed.” He closes his book and listens to the sound of laptop lids being shut, chairs scraping against the old wooden floor, and chatter amongst his students. It’s a sound he’ll never tire of, no matter how long he teaches.

One sound is distinctly different, though. The sound of her voice. Sweet and soft. Lifting his eyes, he sees her talking to one of his students. Mike something. He can’t quite remember, but she laughs and puts her hand on his arm, making Bob clench his jaw.

Another student, Alicia, comes to his desk to talk about the upcoming assignment and what she can do to improve her grade. Normally, he would tell her to make an appointment at his office, but then Imogen laughs again, making heady eyes at that Mike guy, and he decides he has all the time in the world to talk to Alicia.

He tries to pay attention to his student, to answer her questions, and even tries to smile, but he can feel Imogen looking at him out of the corner of her eye. Her dark gaze is intense and sets his skin on fire in a way he’s been trying to ignore for weeks.

“So,” he hears Mike say. “What are your plans this weekend?”

Bob freezes. He lets his eyes wander over to Imogen, who’s still smiling. Next to him, Alicia is still talking, but her voice is far away and barely audible as he focuses on his assistant.

“I’m revising my dissertation proposal,” she tells him. “They rejected the last one for being too broad, so I have to narrow it down.”

Bob’s on that committee and strongly disagreed, but other members outnumbered him and he was forced to dissent. Dr. Kazansky had given her the news, and Bob remembers the heartbroken look in her eyes when she came to his office afterward. He’d wanted to comfort her then.

“Too busy to have dinner with me?”

Bob straightens his back, eyes still trained on Imogen as he dismisses Alicia, telling her to make an appointment if she wishes to discuss things further.

She mutters a thank you and scurries away. Imogen opens her mouth to answer, but Bob interrupts, certain he doesn’t want to hear the answer she’ll likely provide to this Mike character.

“Miss Van Doren,” he says, barely recognizing the hardness in his own voice. “My office. Now.”

He doesn’t wait for her to respond, but gathers his books and leaves the lecture hall without a glance back to see if she’s following. It doesn’t take long for him to hear her marching footsteps behind him, so he leaves the door open for her.

She slams it shut, so it rattles on the hinges.

“What is your problem?”

She’s furious. Nostrils flared, heavy breathing, and a delicious flush paints her cheeks pink.

“My problem?” he asks, placing the books on his desk. “What’s your problem?”

She drops her bag to the floor and crosses her arms in front of her chest. The gold necklace with her initial catches in the light, drawing his eyes down.

“I don’t have a problem,” she insists, taking a step toward him. “But you constantly berating me is getting old.”

He says nothing. He can’t. Not when she’s looking at him like she wants to wring his neck. Not when all the blood in his body is racing south, and he’s trying not to look at her legs, but they are on full display in that tight little skirt she’s wearing. Again.

He swears she’s doing it on purpose to rile him up.

He hates that it’s working.

She takes a deep breath, pushing her shoulders back, and looks up into his eyes. He’s always found hers unsettling, like she sees the parts of him he’s been hiding for decades.

“I know you don’t want me here, Dr. Floyd,” she says, gesturing around his office, making her short skirt even shorter, revealing more of her supple thighs. “You’ve made that abundantly clear, but you could at least show me the courtesy of not undermining me every time I talk to students.”

He frowns. “I don’t undermine you.”

She scoffs, gaze leaving him as her frustration fills the room. “You interrupted my conversation with Michael not five minutes ago,” she argues as her eyes find his again. Dark brown meeting ocean blue.

He steps forward, eyes wandering over every inch of her exposed skin, making his head spin with barely contained desire. “It was an inappropriate conversation.”

“He asked about my dissertation.”

Bob shakes his head. “No, he asked you out.”

“So what?” she throws her hands out to the side, exasperation turning into full-blown anger now. “He’s been trying to ask me out for weeks, but you always manage to interrupt. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you do it on purpose.”

He freezes. His heart’s beating painfully in his chest and his face feels like it’s on fire. There may even be steam coming out of his ears.

He watches Imogen run her hands through her hair, pulling at the roots, and he truly wishes she wouldn’t. It’s conjuring up very vivid images in his head that he shouldn’t have of his teaching assistant.

She looks at him expectantly, thinking an answer is going to come, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t know how to respond to that in a way that’ll make sense to her. It barely even makes sense to himself.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Bob says finally.

She scoffs. “Yeah, well, he treats me better than you do, and I know that’s a really low bar, but it’s better than—”

Bob crashes his lips against hers, swallowing the gasp she emits. For a moment nothing happens, and for a second he thinks he’s made a grave mistake, but then Imogen’s arms circle around his waist and she sighs against his mouth.

He walks her backward until her back hits the wall behind his desk, and he presses her against it, trying to get closer.

He pulls away a few inches to look at her. Cheeks flushed, hair a little out of place, and pupils dilated. She’s never looked more delectable, and he knows she can feel his hard cock against her hip. He doesn’t care.

Taking a deep breath, her eyes search his face for something, but it’s unclear whether she finds it. “Why did you do that?”

Her voice is barely above a whisper. There’s no hint of regret, but the rational part of him knows this is a bad idea. He’s her superior, after all.

“You wouldn’t shut up.”

“So you kissed me?” she asks with an adorable wrinkle between her brows.

He frowns. Now sure he’s misjudged the situation, Bob leans back and squares his shoulders, letting his hands fall away from her neck.

“Oh no,” she tuts and grabs a handful of his sweater, pulling him back in. “Get back here.” She stands on her tiptoes and captures his mouth with her own, tongue dancing at the seam of his lips for entry.

He doesn’t have to be told twice. He leans his weight against her, pushing her against the wall, and groans into her mouth when she tugs on his hair.

His hands travel down her body. Grazing across the swell of her breasts, into the dip of her waist, the hips that have occupied his thoughts for weeks, and finally, her thighs. His lips never leave hers, and his tongue explores her mouth and the taste of mint that lingers from her toothpaste.

Imogen shudders as his fingertips tickle the back of her knees, whimpering at the touch.

His hands slide up the back of her bare thighs, feeling her soft skin under his palms. She moans into his mouth and it’s the most arousing sound he’s ever heard. He can’t help the roll of his hips, desperate for friction, for relief, for something warmer than his own hand.

His hands travel up under her skirt, feeling the plumpness of her ass in his hands make him push against her again and she’s meeting him with her own movement.

“Professor,” she moans, as he trails wet kisses along her throat, running his tongue over the skin afterward.

He hums, kneading her ass-cheeks, growing harder as he rocks against her. Even separated by layers of fabric, the friction is enough to drive him mad.

“Dr. Floyd,” she says, pulling his hair hard enough that his lips detach from her throat. Her pupils are wide and hungry, mirroring his own, and their heavy breaths mix in arousing unison. “I’m still mad at you.”

A smug smirk spreads across his face. “I know,” he says and removes one hand from her ass. He uses it to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Don’t go out with him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The words hang in the air. Bob keeps one hand on the side of her neck while the other remains under her skirt, playing with the edge of her panties. He holds her gaze, waiting for her to make the next move. To tell him where she stands, what she wants.

He sees the moment she decides, the corner of her mouth turning upward just enough to be a smile.

“Show me.”

Yanking her panties to the side, his fingertips glide along her folds, feeling her already soaking for him. Her mouth forms a perfect o as she gasps, and he wonders what else that pretty and vicious mouth can do.

Her fingers curl into the hair at his nape, gasping when he finds her clit. “So pretty like this,” he whispers, kissing the underside of her jaw.

“Professor,” she whimpers. “Please.”

“Come on,” he says, leaning back to watch her. Her brown doe eyes have gone dark with hunger and desire, arousal clear from the bead of sweat on her temple, and his cock is so hard he’s about to go insane. Yet, he still leans in close, his lips featherlight against her ear and whispers “moan for me.”

He leans back just in time to catch the look in her eyes when he presses his thumb against her clit and she lets herself moan. Louder than he expected, so his hand flies over her mouth, keeping her quiet, but feeling her smile beneath his palm.

His thumb massages her clit while his index finger finds her entrance, warmth begging him to enter. Bob meets Imogen’s eyes, asking without saying the words because he doesn’t trust either of them to keep their voices down.

Her nod sends him to heaven.

She moans into his hand as his finger slides inside her. He’s hot all over, groaning into her neck at the sensation of her. “So fucking tight,” he mumbles against her skin, making her clench around him.

Tightening her arms around his shoulders, she whimpers against his palm, and her hips meet his motions as he pumps his finger inside her. Her juices spread across his hand, and before long, he adds a second finger.

His office fills with the sounds of heavy breathing, muffled moans from Imogen, and barely contained groans from himself. He can feel her getting close, her legs trembling, struggling to stay upright. Leaning his forehead against hers, he removes his hand from her mouth. “Quiet,” he mutters against her lips.

She nods as she kisses him, open-mouthed and desperate, and his thumb draws tight circles on her clit as he angles his fingers against that spot inside her. She’s there. He knows it. “Good girl,” he whispers. “Cum for me.”

She does. Gushes around his fingers, writhing in his arms. He guides her through her high, holding her against the wood-paneled wall behind her. Her head falls against his shoulder as she comes down, and a long whine escapes her throat as he withdraws his fingers.

Leaning back to give her a little space, he takes in her unkempt hair, swollen lips, and the breathtaking pink flush in her cheeks. Her eyes flick down to his hand, then turn to the very obvious bulge in his slacks.

“I–”

She takes his hand, the one with fingers covered in her cum, and brings it to her lips. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she closes her mouth around his digits, swirling her tongue around them, tasting herself. He’s entranced, can’t stop watching her when she hums as if it’s the most delicious meal she’s ever had.

She withdraws his fingers with a pop, letting his hand fall back at his side. They stay there, looking at each other, processing what just happened between them. Not only is she his teaching assistant, but he’s on her dissertation committee. He has power and influence, and while she’s not his student, he is her superior.

“I…” he tries again, but trails off.

She smirks, squaring her shoulders. “Close your mouth, Dr. Floyd,” she says and sidesteps him, adjusting her skirt. “You’re too smart to be a mouth breather.”

She crosses the office, gathering her bag from the floor where she dropped it, and he gets a peek at her panties as she bends over. White lace. His slacks have never felt tighter.

Unsure what to say or do, he stands there watching while Imogen tries to make her hair look presentable. “Alright,” she mumbles after a minute. “See you tomorrow.”

The door closes behind her, leaving Bob in his office, surrounded by books, paper, a chessboard, a laptop he’s forced to own, and the memory of his TA coming undone on his fingers.

There’s only one word to describe the situation he now finds himself in.

“Fuck.”

likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are golden

TAGLIST: @roosterforme, @kmc1989, @bradshawsbaby, @cherrycola27, @wkndwlff, @yanna-banana, @bluezraven, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @hangmandruigandmav, @keyrani, @just-in-case-iloveyou, @solo-pitstop-vibes, @yuckosworld, @have-a-nice-day-k, @writingshae, @the-whitegirl-is-back, @dizzydisaster, @floydsmuse

272 notes · View notes

countrymusiclover · 3 months

Text

1 - The Lannister Kingsguard

Part 2

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tag list just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

16 years ago

“I’m going to catch you little rascal.” I called through the large hallways of the Red Keep attempting to catch my youngest brother Viserys who insisted we play chase this morning.

His silver white was getting tousled around while he ran around the corner with me trying to catch his heels. “You can't get me.”

“I think you doubt me far too much, little brother.” I smirked flying past the Targaryen banner near the wall rounding the corner he had gone around but he stopped running when I tackled him to the stone floor in my short dress. “Ha! I told you I'd get you.”

He whined underneath my hold. “That’s not fair.”

“Sister?” Yanking my head upward I saw my older brother Rhaegar standing a few steps away from us.

A few members of our fathers kingsguard were standing near the Iron Throne. I saw an older man with a bald head dressed in all red meaning it had to be the Hand of the King Tywin Lannister. “Um hi brother. What is going on here?”

“I was about to make this 16 year old a member of my Kingsguard until I was interrupted by you, daughter.” My father raised his tone towards me, sitting on the throne of swords.

I gulped knowing he didn’t have good control over his temper sometimes, especially around his children. “Forgive me, father. I didn't recall that it was today until this very moment.”

“It doesn't matter now. Get over there with your brothers and watch silently. Let's get this done. I don't wish to keep my wife waiting.” Father scoffed, tapping his fingers on the armrests of the chair until a different kingsguard delivered him a sword and walked forward standing on the first two steps where the young boy was bent down on one knee before his king.

Tywin finally spoke up to the king. “State your name, boy.”

“Jaime of House Lannister. Son of Tywin and Joanna Lannister.” The boy of fifteen with the long blonde hair responded on command.

Father raised his sword tapping his shoulders with the tip individually declaring the oath that must be bestowed onto a knight. “In the name of the warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the father I charge you to be just. In the name of the mother I charge you to defend the innocent. Arise Jaime Lannister, a knight of Seven Kingdoms and a member of the Kingsguard.”

“Woo hoo! Um - my apology.” I began clapping, breaking the silence in the throne room causing everyone to turn their heads in my direction.

Father placed his sword inside his holder and two knights along with the Hand of the King retreated from the room without another word. That left me and my brothers alone with Jaime Lannister. “I've been meaning to talk to you, sister. I have news for you.” Rhaegar turned on his feet facing me.

“What news is that?” I asked him curiously.

He answered me with a half smile, mentioning the Dorne family we had gotten along with since one girl was a former lady and waiting for our mother Rhaella. “I'm going to marry Ella Martel.”

“That’s great news, brother.” Flinging my arms around his neck I giggled and he hugged me back now smiling too.

The typical tradition of our family was for brothers and sisters to Wed one another but it took our parents seven years before they had me. By that time our father had already been talking about wedding my brother off to some high born girl of his many kingdoms. “I'm rather happy with it myself. I must go tell our mother. Come Viserys.” Rhaegar took our young brother by the hand leaving me alone in the throne room.

Shifting my gaze around I felt a pair of eyes on me when I turned my back to the throne seeing that the newly named kingsguard Lannister hadn't left me alone like I believed he had. “Can I help you with something, ser Knight?”

“I should be asking you that question, my princess. For I am sworn to aid and protect you.” Jaime bowed his head at me.

I clasped my hands together in front of my dress, my hair swaying with the fabric as I moved over to stand in front of the new knight. “From my memory I was not ever required to have a personal knight following me around my childhood home.”

“Well those were the commands I have been given and I intend to follow them, princess.”

Holding up a hand I interrupted him before this conversation went on any further. “Please stop calling me princess. I have far too many people addressing me by that title. I’d rather have someone call me by my name.”

“I can arrange those terms. Who do I have the honor of meeting now before me?”

I crusty to the night holding up the fabric of my dress showing him how my silver hair was styled into a crown when I did so. “Vaella Targaryen.”

“Then I’ll just be Jaime to you, Vaella.” The Lannister lion sent me a cheeky smile, bright green eyes focusing on my purple ones.

Lightly twirling side to side in my dress I smirked towards him deciding I should get to have some fun with my personal knight while my father wasn’t around us because right now he didn’t appear to be so serious as he was now that it was just the two of us alone together. “It’s nice to meet you, Jaime. I do have a question for you though?”

“What is your question Vaella?” He asked resting his right hand on the handle of his sword attached to his hip.

Sticking my tongue out at the knight I bolted barely waiting to hear what his reaction would be. “Do you think you can catch me, Ser knight?”

“I don’t understand. Wait - seven hells Vaella!” Jaime shook his head, awe struck and confused till he noticed the silver hair and white dress disappearing further away from him.

He began chasing after me concerned that he would get in trouble if something bad happened to me. But he wouldn’t admit it until years later how much he wished they had the opportunity to go back to that life compared to all the chaos that would be thrown their direction.

Kings Landing - current day

Jaime was currently standing outside of the King's office in the hallway on guard duty. The current king who had sat on the throne once he had killed the Mad King and now the Baratheon signal flew high in the Red Keep. The current king called Jaime’s nickname wanting to speak with him. “Kingslayer, get in here! It must wound your pride. Standing out there, like a golden sentry. Jaime Lannister, son of the mighty Tywin. Forced to mind the door while your king eats and drinks and shits and fucks. So, come on. We’re telling war stories. Who was your first kill, not counting the old men?”

“One of the outlaws in the Brotherhood.” He answered his king.

A fellow Kingsguard replied. “I was there that day. You were only a squire. Sixteen years old.”

“You killed Simon Toyne with a counter-riposte. Best move I ever saw.”

The other knight nodded. “Good fighter, Toyne. But he lacked stamina.

King Robert entered the conversation between the two Knights. “Your outlaw any last words?”

“I cut his head off. So, no.”

The king’s next question caused Jaime’s hand to drop down onto the handle of his sword. Recalling the night so vividly for more than one reason besides betraying the king he swore to protect. “What about Aerys Targaryen? What did the Mad King say when you stabbed him in the back? I never asked. Did he call you a traitor? Did he plead for a reprieve?”

“He said the same thing he had been saying for hours. Burn them all.”

Silence fell inside the chamber room with the king silently staring at him for a few minutes. “Then we should all be grateful that we took care of all the Targaryens. The Seven Kingdoms didn’t need anymore reign or vows to a house whose words are Fire and Blood wouldn’t you agree?”

“It would seem so, your grace. If that is all I’ll take my leave.” Jaime bowed his head walking back out into the hallway and he didn’t release the tension in his shoulders and show emotion until he was away from the king. For the king was wrong in his words because not all the Targaryens were dead. One remained in Kings Landing and Jaime was the reason for it

And if the king ever found out both their heads would be on spikes.

81 notes · View notes