#I hope my teacher likes it….

[hesbianyaoi]

thank goodness for bsd wan and the existence of teacher dazai. where would i be without you

based on a real-life conversation that happened with me and my students when i was a kindergarten teacher. very small children are some of the most ruthless and funny people i've ever met. it's an absolutely lawless land in the classroom (they were very sweet though!)

[yourbleedingh3art]

BRUH I just finished my 100Pt assignment and turned it in A Minute before it was due like We came so down to the wire but I read over it and I’m actually pretty proud of it

[themisterhip]

"Let me worship you..."

Fanart inspired by this fanfic (NSFW) made by @theomnicode (READ IT, IS AMAZING ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)) Also hey, I'm not dead :D (read the notes for info) Have a hot sneak peak:

[seiwas]

sellllllll it's meeeeee. hehehehehehehehehhehe

so for ur writing exercises.... deku + light? please? pretty please?

:3c

heheh heheh hehe niku. this will be the death of me. me writing izuku for the first time 🥲 i will only do this for you </3

contains: established relationship, spoilers for the end of the manga, aged up deku but sometime in between the final outcome (he doesn't get the h*** s*** from bakugo yet), mentions of sex and scars

deku + light

izuku only sleeps with the lights off.

it isn't uncommon; many people you know can't sleep with even just a sliver of light turned on somewhere in the room. but the difference with izuku, you learn, is not that he's unable to stand the light―it's that he refuses to.

you quickly pick up on it the first few times he sleeps over.

he fidgets in bed, pretty badly, actually. the nightlight you sleep with glows a warm yellow, illuminating the side of your face and coating him in its afterglow. you chalk it up to nerves, how he pulls at his sleeves and adjusts his position constantly; he is, after all, one of the most anxious people you know.

and this relationship―it's new. heck, even you feel a little jittery with his arm wrapped around you.

the rhythmic tapping on your hip only increases pace. you don't think he realizes it, so your hand gently reaches for his, intertwining your fingers as you turn around in his arms.

he's close, nearly touching you nose-to-nose; the proximity leaves you fuzzy, a little ticklish, so you giggle, a soft "oops," as the freckles dusting his face almost glisten under the warm light.

"hi," you whisper, meeting his eyes; they stare back at you wide in surprise, "can't sleep?"

he looks almost guilty at your question, as if you’ve caught him with the one thing he's been trying to keep from you.

"just—" his voice comes out louder than intended, prompting him to chuckle nervously as he readjusts his volume, "just winding down, sorry."

you inch closer, nuzzling his nose lightly, "it's okay."

"did i wake you?" he asks, cheeks flushing pink as his eyebrows furrow in immediate concern. his expression is something caught between stifling a grin and feeling sorry.

you shake your head against the pillow you share, strands of your hair tangling with his. "just winding down," you tease, watching as his gaze turns softer, eyelids drooping heavier.

sometimes, you think, izuku holds the world in his eyes―a deep, dark green, the color of life. most times, they look at you with wonderment, bright and alive; photos from inko tell you they're the eyes of his inner child.

on nights like this one, however, they hide a depth in them weighted by what you can only assume is time, and all that has happened to him in such a short span of it.

you try your best to understand what lies beneath them, knowing full well he'll never tell you outright what truly bothers him.

"is it the light?" you bring up, some time after laying in silence.

"hm?" he clarifies.

"do you have a hard time sleeping with the nightlight?"

his eyes widen briefly once more, as if shocked that you've caught him again. these split second reactions are ones you've learned to be attentive to when it comes to izuku.

"no," he tries to lie, but you know better as you turn to your nightstand and reach for its switch, "you don't–"

"it was hurting my eyes," you quickly make up an excuse, tucking yourself closer under his chin as you cut off his attempt to deny it again.

finding out that the light was the problem was the easy part—

you'd begun to notice much earlier on that izuku was barely rested on the nights he'd spend at your place. it was only when your old nightlight broke that you began to notice him waking up much later than you did, groggily rousing from a deep sleep.

—what was hard, was figuring out why.

at first, you suspected it was his scars.

"s-sorry, it's not—" he'd warned you, right as your hands gripped the hem of his shirt the first time you were about to have sex, "—it's not nice."

you didn't care though; you still don't care, and you've made that abundantly clear to him since. you love izuku and all his parts―all the nicks and jaggedy pieces of skin that make up who he is.

when you eventually ask him about it, with a request that he be honest with you for once, he tells you that it is and it isn't―the reason why he exclusively sleeps with the lights off, that is.

it's an odd, comforting relationship he has with his body—that he is simultaneously grateful and sorry for how its become a canvas, both painted and marred to symbolize japan’s historic last stand.

you find out the real reason when you catch him staring at his hands.

he does it often, when he thinks you aren't looking—his fists bunched up in the same way he used to watch the power of one for all course through his fingertips; the same way he used to prepare them in battle.

there’s a faraway look in his eyes that lingers, you notice—a little wistful if anything.

“do you miss it?” you finally ask. he gives you the same shocked look he does every time, as if he’s been caught with a secret he’s been trying to hide.

he’s learned a fair bit about you now, too, though—lying to you is futile when you’ve perfected reading his truth. he stares at his fists again as you take a seat beside him, moving to give you space. you rest your head on his shoulder gently, waiting.

“sometimes,” he admits, but you know it’s an understatement.

“i think about the vestiges a lot. i miss them the most, i think,” he continues, clenching his fists tightly, “i always try to reach out to them, but i guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“i… i try to replicate the right conditions every night, but…” then he lets go, stretching his fingers out wide. the scars on the surface ripple through his skin, telling its own story.

you hum, acknowledging what he means. silence sits with the two of you as you take his hand in yours, slowly unfurling his fingers until his palm reveals itself to you. it’s rough to the touch, seasoned with hard work and all that he’s been through.

“is that why you prefer the dark?” you ask softly, after some time.

it's not often that you stay up later than izuku does. when you do though, you catch him shifting in bed, moving from side-to-side. you pretend you aren't awake, but you hear him mumble their names, dwindling in volume as he dozes off to sleep.

he stares at his palm for a moment before he admits quietly, "yeah." his brows furrow as if contemplating whether to say more, but he shakes his head, dark green strands swaying to the beat of his embarrassed chuckle, "nevermind, it's silly."

"it's not."

you intertwine your fingers, sandwiching his hand between yours. a slight sheen glosses over his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at you. he draws in a breath, before it spills over.

"it's..." he finds the words, and you squeeze his hand in comfort, "it's easier to believe it was all real when the lights are out, and that maybe it can happen again."

[flowerakatsuka]

my shimamatsu artbook came in so i finally got to see the rest of the unreleased teacher set...

scans of gym teacher oso from this set can be found here!

choro's a math teacher, which i feel like is pretty fitting for her. they drew her very cute, peak froggy expression.

ichi's a science teacher, like in teacher matsu merch by movic. he's also setting a bad example for his students by wearing open-toed shoes which is against standard lab safety rules, for shame smh.

jyushi is an art teacher! very cute, he's definitely fitting the bill of the zany art teacher stereotype.

totty's an english teacher. he's really meant it when he said he doesn't want to work bc he's giving us NOTHING in that awakened art. his outfits are very cute, though.

" gee, mj. where's kara? wasn't he the one you were the most curious about? " wELL. i waited to share him last bc...

when i tell you that i opened to this page in art book to find this set, saw kara, and then immediately closed the book...

he's a japanese / literature teacher, which i do think fits. ( still such a missed opportunity to have him as a music teacher... ) * puts my face in my hands * he's such a dork.

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 129

so was anybody going to tell me @adorkastock had their own random pose generator now or was i just supposed to find that out on my own

[notahaterbutakvetcher]

Open letter to everyone silent on the pogram in LA yesterday (being Sunday, June 23rd), despite reblogging misinformation after misinformation about Israel’s unique evil:

I see you. I see how quiet you are. I see how afraid you are, how scary it is to comment on it, because of the backlash you might face for “not supporting the movement.” I see the indecision as you hover over the reblog button.

And I am calling you a coward for it.

How dare you refuse to acknowledge what is happening within your own movement. How dare you claim to be on the side of peace, and allow yourself to ignore what your own protesters are doing.

I see you, and I am disgusted with you.

[ravxe3n]

quick low effort post because i can

professor morris ashley with brown hair and blonde roots because i headcanon him to be a natural blonde (he constantly dyed it brown back in 2007)

[thatkirbynerd]

I'm running in two doses of methylphenidate, half a bottle of tea and a spite for everything I've had to draw in my uni art class but hey my teacher said we could draw anything in our room so magolor with the headphones it is

[archersartcorner]

I think the Bad Kids deserve to cry a lil. As a treat. IT’S CATHARTIC!!!!!!!!!!!

[mmyashas]

wow wouldnt it be crazy if we were all on a severely ominous poster at the fed offices

[crystalflygeo]

Sinful voice pt.2 ft “Morax”/Prof!Zhongli + fem!reader (modern AU)

cw/tags: Voice kink, daddy kink, dirty talk, female masturbation, oral and fingering implied but like it's just fantasizing?? petnames (sweetheart, babygirl, dear) Reader is DOWN BAD LMAO and suffers second hand embarrasment.

notes: EVERYBODY SAY THANK YOU @localplaguenurse!!They gave me a F A N T A S T I C idea that just inspired me to continue this wip and ended up not even being featured here yet but HEY... future p3!! //winkwink. That said I did NOT expect how much this would blow up and how ppl loved it and wanted more, y'all gonna make me giddy and/or cry pls (consider checking some of my other stuff too mayhaps? <3) Anyway I REALLY hope this delivers bc boi am I afraid of not meeting expectations vcgvhjbnjnmklal

Weeks had passed since your ‘big discovery’ and you still weren’t quite sure what to do with this information.

At first you chalked it up to just your imagination because… there was no way, right? Your new professor could just have a… similar voice… yeah… that was it.

Except the more you listened to his long-winded explanations the more you picked up certain words and intonations here and there and you knew you were just fooling yourself.

A lot had happened in these last few weeks, from organizing your new living space, to meeting your roommates, to grocery shopping, classes, and you had even considered the idea of maybe getting a part time job somewhere close by. There were plenty of small shops and places around the college campus neighborhood that not only offered valuable services to poor college students but also the opportunity to make a bit of money to help them out.

It had all been rather exhausting and stressing, exams, essays and projects were already starting too…

Lying back in bed you sigh and roll over, feeling the familiar faint throb of desire pooling between your legs, one you’d never really managed to sate with a person so much as with fantasies. But tonight, as you lay awake in bed aching for your usual touch, you feel conflicted.

Ever since that very first day you just couldn’t bring yourself to open up Morax’s website again. Hell, a new month had rolled over and you’d dutifully paid the subscription along with your other usual bills.

Part of you was itching for it, curious, frustrated.

And very very horny.

Thing is, your fantasies had often featured a faceless man, strong, imposing and dominating, taking you like a blushing maiden and making you beg for the pleasure he’d give, allowing him to do anything he wanted with your heated body. Now that man had a face… your history professor Mr. Zhongli.

You used to get off to imaginings of Morax tying you up and having his way with you, teasing you, fucking you into the mattress and making you cum over and over. Now it was Mr. Zhongli. Polite and courteous Mr. Zhongli with his refined gestures and well-mannered demeanor.

You wanted to cum, to reach that high and come undone and let out all the pent-up stress and frustration until you melted into a puddle and didn’t have to think about classes or money or life anymore, but the second your fingers began to rub at your clit, Mr. Zhongli’s voice would hit you with that even tone he used when scolding someone for gossiping during his lecture.

“Disgraceful behavior…”

A hot flash of shame burned at your face but for whatever reason it just turned you on more. You wanted to get fucked so bad you felt like you were going insane. You wanted that man to pin you up against a wall and thrust inside you until you turned into an incoherent moaning mess. You wanted to get bent over at his desk and filled up with cum until you were left gaping and oozing and told what a good girl you are. You wanted to get fucked on your hands and knees squirming and crying from overstimulation.

Lying in bed, you squeezed a pillow against your face and screamed.

You wanted to fuck your handsome history professor Mr. Zhongli.

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

It’s barely first period and you couldn’t concentrate.

You were sleepy, hungry and overall, in a bad mood. Standing in line at the cafeteria for a much-needed morning coffee and some snack you yawn and browse around your phone. Math. Gods you hated math.

At least you didn’t have history today. That was a whole other can of worms.

You figured you’d eventually have to get over it but it was just… so bizarre. Mr. Zhongli was quite the popular teacher, you’d learned. Extremely knowledgeable in various topics, a strict but kind and just teacher and good looking on top of all.

No wonder the upperclassmen flocked around him, probably half the campus lowkey had a crush on him, male and female students alike. It was genuinely a miracle he was not married or even had a significant other apparently.

And he was also Morax. Sensual dominating Morax who would just not leave your head-

“Good morning, how may I help you?” The cashier called out cheerfully and you pulled out of your thoughts.

“Morn-”

“Good morning.”

You gasp so sharply you almost launch into a coughing fit; your eyes widen and whole body tenses and oh shit-

Somehow you manage to trip and fall in the clumsiest, stupidest way possible.

“Woah-!”

“Miss?!”

Except you don’t actually fall, but someone manages to hold you, a hand grabbing your arm and the other pressed against your back steadying you as your poor brain goes into overdrive.

That voice!

It’s him!

Too close!

What is he doing here?!

Way too close!!

The seconds it takes for you to react feel like ages as you stare up at Mr. Zhongli like a deer caught in the headlights.

His hands are warm…

His cologne smells soooo good.

His eyes are gorgeous!

He’s so hot!!

“Are you alright Miss l/n?”

“I’M FINE! I-I’m fine!” You yelp, way louder than intended (or normal) and quickly scoot back to put some distance between yourself and the handsome professor. He picks up his dropped bag and dusts it a little, as well as his clothes, still pristine as ever. “I… think I got a little dizzy s-sorry I haven’t eaten yet and… yeah…” You chuckle nervously.

You see him frown slightly. “Going without food for long periods of time can be quite dangerous.” He states, obviously concerned. “Maybe you should head to the infirmary see Dr Baizhu, you look quite pale and the dizziness could be a symptom of low blood pressure. Do you have anything sugary to eat or drink?”

“I w-was about to buy something…”

“It might be best for you to sit down for the moment.” He nods, resolute. “Allow me.”

…And that’s how you end up sitting at one of the nearby small tables with a little glazed donut and a bottle of water, courtesy of your dear history professor.

You stare at the little treat in your hands, half eaten already as he insisted, at least your hands stopped shaking and some color returned to your face. Mr. Zhongli seemed content enough, sitting across from you.

“T-Thank you.” You mumble, refusing to meet his gaze. “How much was it? I’ll pay you back I have som-”

He sees you rummaging through you bag and raises a hand. “None of that, you needed it. I’m glad to see you’re looking a little better, please take care of yourself, health is very important.”

“Um, ok.”

Then he smiles, and it’s gentle, soft. “You’re Miss l/n, right? One of the new students from my history class?”

Huh?   

“You didn’t do very well on the essay assignment…”

Ack. You sigh and take another bite of the small donut. “History is just… not my strong suit. Too many dates and names to remember.”

He chuckles and oh God who gave him the right to make that sound? Your skin tingles.

“Fair enough. I know my classes can be a little daunting, I’m very particular about certain topics and tend to ramble sometimes. But I can tell you really put effort into classes and pay attention to my lectures.” He looks pensive for a moment. “Let me propose something. I usually impart some private tutoring sessions to students on more advanced levels, but I could make an exception for you. If you have time available it could help lift your grades.”

You stare up at him in surprise, grateful to not have a mouthful of donut or you would have probably choked again like an idiot. Did you hear that right? A private tutoring session after hours at his office?!

Now that sounded like a title for one of Morax’s audios: Hot professor bangs his stu-NOPE.    

“I-I’ll think about it! Sure.”

He nods and gets up, sparing a glance at his watch. “I have to leave now, please do consider it. And do try to eat at more regular intervals and take better care of yourself, you look quite tired.”

A polite way of saying you had marked eyebags, yep.

“I’ll try.” You mumble. Suddenly a little sad to see him go. “Professor… thank you.”

There’s that smile again, you could melt. “You’re welcome, my dear.”

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

And yet that night, you’re once again rolling in bed unable to sleep.

My dear.

You couldn’t stop thinking on the whole incident, you’d certainly made a fool of yourself but the memory of his strong arms holding you, touch firm but gentle. The scent of his cologne that you wish had clung more on your clothes.

You really were down bad, this is ridiculous…

You bite your lip.

You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t.

Oh but you will, just one wouldn’t hurt.

Quite the opposite actually…

Unable to contain yourself (or your horniness) you take no time to pop in your earbuds and start scrolling. Hmm… there had been a couple new additions in these last weeks.

You can’t help but wonder why he does these. When. How. You never really considered or thought on it before, Morax has quite a lot of patrons (not a surprise) and thought you know nothing about sound and video recording or editing technically he’s making money just by using that honeyed velvet voice of his. That had to bring in some cash, right?

But then again, if you knew anything about these types of subscriptions it was that they required constancy and that meant hard work and dedication. Did he enjoy these? He really puts in the effort given the amazing quality…

You can’t help but picture your handsome professor unwinding a little after a long day, casual clothes, a cup of that tea he loves and setting up to record those dirty words and sinful moans.

Did he sometimes get worked up about these too? Did he also touch himself during or after recording a particular scenario? Sitting back slightly sprawled on the chair, brow slightly furrowed, stroking his co-   

Aaahhhh you needed to stop thinking on him.

…

Yeah right.

“Daddy eats you out and prepares you for his big cock.”

Well, this looks promising.   

The audio starts like many others, with some dialogue from him and setting the scene and oh… you had kind of missed the playful teasing tilt of Morax’s voice. You can’t help but chuckle lightly, this scene is so domestic. He calls you “sweetheart”, “babygirl” and there are the kissy noises.

You wish you could kiss him…

“Hmmm… daddy’s gonna get you nice and ready. Spread your legs for me.” Oh, you certainly do. “Daddy’s gonna get down here between them.”

You rub at your tights slowly, sensual, remembering his larger hands.

“Oh your little pussy is already so wet and swollen.” Morax coos, voice soft and airy. “You think it’s already ready I know.” He chuckles. “But you know daddy’s cock is big, yeah, your little pussy’s gonna need to stretch a little bit hm?” A kiss.

You whine.

“Shhh daddy’s gonna make you feel so good sweetheart.”

Lewd wet noises invade your ears and you waste no time starting to stroke yourself, slow and tender. He groans and sighs and you whimper, hips jolting from the bed.

Gods how was he so…

“Yeah… nice and gentle hmm, we’re gonna have so much fun.”

His words were a complete 180 from the long lectures about politics and wars, and yet, his voice…

“D-Daddy…” You sigh. “Please!”

“Oh I love how sensitive your little clit is… you like that babygirl?”

You rub and stroke at the little bundle of nerves and see stars already.

You were so pent up, so needy. Your orgasm was already building too quickly, mewling and whining at his words, his noises, trying to match the pace and follow his instructions.

“That’s a good girl.”

“F-Fuck-”

Your eyebrows furrow, your body trembles and you bit your lip to contain your noises. Morax warns you when he adds a finger, and after a few seconds another, chuckling low at how you clench, praising you, coaxing out your pleasure.

You can only picture him at the end of the bed, licking and sucking obscenely at your juices, pumping those slender fingers in and out, in and out…

That tantalizing voice teasing you, your fingers knotting that dark brown hair tipped amber, golden eyes staring up at you half-lidded but feral and fascinated. Focusing on you. Only you.

“A-Ah! Mhmm…”

“Now I want you to cum babygirl come on, in five… four…”

You stroke and pump faster, frantic, lost in that rapidly approaching high.

“Three… two…”   

You cry out, a spark cursing through your veins.

“One… hmmm that’s it my dear.”

“Z-Zhongli…!”

He ushers you out of your release with soft words before saying something else, but your mind is floating and hazy. Your take off the earbuds and place them away catching your breath for a moment, arm draped over your face, the audio still has a long way to go but you’re drowsy and sleepy so you decide to call it a night.

It is only a little later, once you’re done with a quick cleaning and putting everything away, curled up under the covers and dozing off that you realize…

Shit.

You’d called not for Morax but Zhongli.

[lunarharp]

uhh another modern au agott follow-up. They've gotten progressively sillier

[ponponpopcorn]

GT trunks meets his nemesis. himself (xenoverse 2 trunks)

note: imagine the "CRASH" as something similar to the metal pipe falling noise

[sampilled]

whenever sam brings up his childhood, its always like "awww so cute <3333" followed by "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST" approximately 2 seconds later

like "awww he had an imaginary friend, thats so sweet! i love sully!" and then "oh jesus, his imaginary friend is real and was there to fill in the gaps so that sam didn't fall through them :((("

or "aww sam had a dog friend" followed by "sam lived with his dog friend in an abandoned house cause he ran away for TWO WEEKS, apparently one of his happiest childhood memories wtf"

or "awww dean read to him" and then "oh the whole time he was thinking about how he was dirty and wrong haha 0_0"

[valeriianz]

Model Student

nearly 4k of PWP crazy inspired by this and THIS super steamy art by @abyssalcryptid that seized me by the back of the neck and wouldn't let go until i caved and ;akgjkafhgaghj

CW: human au, trans Dream, words 'cunt', 'clit', and 'hole' used for Dream's bits, student/teacher relations, age gap, consenting adults, oral sex, penis-in-vagina sex.

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

“Hey, professor?”

“Hm?” 

Hob looks up from the paperwork he’d been pouring over, finding Dream Endeleas standing at the entrance to his office, and immediately forgets where he is.

Dream is leaning– draping– himself on the door frame, wearing a tiny black short sleeve button down that looks two sizes too small, tied around his firm stomach, the buttons open and revealing a lacy bra underneath. Hanging low on his hips is a dark, plaid skirt plucked straight out of a school-girl porno, and– Hob swallows roughly as his eyes trail further– stockings that travel for miles down Dream’s legs to the cute pumps on his feet.

Hob’s mouth hangs open, panting by the time he looks up again, struck down by the slow smirk Dream’s face splits into.

“Fuck me?”

Reality slams back into Hob and he vaults from his chair, causing it to roll backwards as he stomps around his desk.

“Dream!” Hob hisses, not missing the devious way the student’s eyes narrow as he casually side-steps Hob on his way to look out into the hallway before all but slamming the door shut.

“Can you not? With the door wide open?” Hob pulls the little curtain down over the window and, for good measure, flicks the lock secure.

“Something wrong?” Dream asks, coy, his low voice cutting straight through Hob.

Hob huffs, casting his eyes heavenward, praying for patience… before looking back at Dream, the devious spark in his eyes, the way his fingers lazily drag up his thighs all the way up to the lines of his stomach and dipping in between the folds of the blouse to touch the black lace hidden beneath. He arches off the wall, back bending like a bow, all while staring intently at Hob.

Hob knows no one in heaven is listening to him. He didn’t deserve any kind of holy interference for what he was doing with his student. If anything, he would be entitled to some righteous judgment.

They had been sneaking around for a while, ever since Dream came by during office hours, maybe three weeks into the semester, and unashamedly– determination flashing behind his eyes– crawled onto Hob’s desk and grabbed him by the face for their first kiss.

Hob had a feeling his student had a little crush on him, day one, if the heated glances during lecture were anything to go by. Or the way Dream would always sit in the first row, legs sprawled out wide– in jeans or a skirt– sticking the end of his pencil in his mouth, blue eyes sharp and confident and so… so alluring. 

He was a good student too, one of the best in the class. Hob had no idea how Dream managed to pay attention to the material when he himself would lose his train of thought constantly, being in the same room with the man who was ten years his junior.

Dream could see it too, surely, the way Hob would stutter or blush in his presence. Hob could always tell when a student liked him a little too much. Could see the way freshman girls would bat their eyelashes or curl their hair behind their ear with a cute smile during talks of homework or asking Hob personal questions. It wasn’t something new, and Hob was good about keeping it strictly professional and never reciprocating, even on accident.

But there was something about Dream that refused to take no for an answer. He was persistent… though he was never pushy, not in a creepy way. And unfortunately, Hob liked Dream, too. He was smitten since the student first walked into his third year lecture hall and barely made an effort to keep his interest at bay.

And, inevitably, Dream began to see the way Hob barely held himself back, leaning into Dream’s advances little by little; standing too close after all the other students had left and Dream would approach him after class, a question on his tongue that Hob knew Dream had the answer to already. Giving his smile with more and more frequency to Dream’s awful jokes and attempts at flirting… never dissuading them– but also not encouraging, just letting it be. Soon Hob found himself eagerly awaiting their alone time, even if for a moment. Finding each other at the campus cafe and naturally sitting down together to talk. That eventually moved onto meeting up off-campus, under the pretense to discuss, say, internships or Dream’s ambitions for the future… which would always devolve into personal life and get Hob talking about himself more freely.

It was a little terrifying, Hob had to admit, sleeping with a student (or were they dating?). He was putting his job on the line– his reputation– but fuck, it was so worth it. And Hob would be lying if he didn’t admit to how all the sneaking around only amplified the sex. The forbiddance of it all. Dream got a kick out of it too, Hob knew. Smug satisfaction written all over his face after each successful affair. Even playing up their roles in the bedroom and full on calling Hob “professor” instead of his name and teasing about how he could get some “extra credit.” It was ridiculous and depraved– Hob had never felt so alive, never felt like this before– falling into bed with his own student.

Despite how physical their relationship was, Hob couldn’t deny the other chemistry between them, how they’d connected emotionally– more than what happened behind closed doors. Hob felt himself looking forward to even the mundane dates with Dream, learning about his family, what his favorite food was, charmed in the way Dream would steal Hob’s clothes in the morning and wake up first to make terrible coffee. It would probably be easier if their trysts were purely physical… but Hob knew this was turning into something he couldn’t control. His heart getting in the way, as usual.

They’ve never done more than kiss in Hob’s office, though. It felt especially dangerous to fool around on campus grounds. Most of their nights spent in intimacy were at Hob’s house, sprawling Dream onto his king size bed and fucking him so hard he’d come into class the next day with a limp.

Now, however, Hob has to wonder if he’d been too lenient with Dream. Too indulgent. What else would prompt him to arrive in his office like this? Shameless and almost uncaring of anyone around.

“What if someone heard you?” Hob asks after picking his jaw off the floor.

“No one did.” Dream says simply, stepping up to Hob and tugging on his tie, his eyes low, considering. “You haven’t answered my question yet.”

“Didn’t sound much like a question to me.” Hob feels a grin stretch across his face despite himself.

“Mm… it wasn’t.” Dream looks up at Hob, eyes dark and wicked. His smirk sharpens as he wanders over to Hob’s desk, turning and leaning back against it.

“Come here.”

Hob swallows, and knows his fate is sealed. He can only obey, walking up to Dream as if in a daze, his eyes never leaving those crystalline blues.

Once in front of him, Dream takes off Hob’s glasses, folds them, and sets them off to the side before reaching up to kiss him. Hob gets his hands on Dream as he kisses back, matching his energy, resting them on his narrow hips and sliding them up. He gets his fingers around the knot of the blouse, working it open, his hands dipping past the fabric over his flat chest once it falls open, thumbs brushing his nipples through the lace bra.

Dream hums in satisfaction, the gorgeous purr pouring down Hob’s throat and encouraging him to push the shirt completely off.

Once the blouse hits the floor, Dream takes Hob’s hand and shoves it under his skirt.

“Oh, fuck,” Hob moans into Dream’s mouth, his hand automatically moving against the velvety warm folds of Dream’s cunt through the mesh of the stockings he wore. 

“You feel that? How wet I am for you?” Dream breathes. Their lips brush together, hot and teasing and making Hob’s head spin.

Hob presses harder, his palm rubbing and catching the friction of the material against it. Dream throws his head back with a bitten off groan, bucking up into the sensation.

Hob almost blacks out thinking about how Dream walked up here, crossing the quad, wearing nothing under this skirt but air– this flimsy excuse for fabric– dripping slick on his way to him. Leaking down his thighs and– fuck, it turns Hob on so bad. Dream knows exactly how to wind him up and it drives Hob crazy.

Hob watches– enraptured– Dream’s face as he slides his middle finger roughly into Dream’s sopping wet hole, not getting far against the tight stockings, while closing the remaining distance between them so Dream can wrap his arms around him, hiking a knee up and hooking it around Hob’s waist, thrusting inelegantly against his hand.

With his free hand, Hob takes Dream’s face, pulling him into another sloppy kiss that is mostly teeth and tongue. Hob groans, frustration coating his tone– with the sudden urge to taste him. The scent of Dream’s sex is wafting in the air between them and it’s making Hob delirious, all his focus narrowing into one singular need.

Without warning, Hob breaks off, their lips separating with a lewd smacking noise, and dropping to his knees. Dream’s protest at losing Hob’s warmth transitions to a low sound of approval as Hob plunges his face under the skirt.

Hob hears the sound of Dream’s hand slapping over his mouth, muffling his own cries of pleasure while Hob latches his mouth over the rough material of the stockings. He lays his tongue flat and grabs onto Dream’s ass, encouraging his thrusts against his face. Hob moans long and low as the scent and taste of Dream fill his every sense, closing his eyes and working his jaw and tongue exactly how he knows Dream likes. 

It’s exquisite, Hob could stay here for hours, eating Dream out. The helpless mewls that tumble past Dream’s lips encourage Hob to feast, taking what he can manage without actually getting his mouth directly where he wants it most. The thin fabric adds a delicious friction that is almost painful on Hob’s tongue, swapping between licking and sucking before he growls and bites at the mesh gently, tugging it away from Dream’s body.

“Rip it,” Dream pants, he sounds a wreck and Hob’s barely gotten started. His fingers in Hob’s hair tighten with no intention to release him.

Hob pulls the fabric again to rip a hole with his teeth, the sound of the material tearing tickles Hob’s ears. It sends goosebumps down Hob’s arms before immediately plunging his tongue inside the velvety wet heat of Dream and– yes, this is exactly what he needed, what they both needed. 

Dream howls, muffled behind his hand, and gets a leg up over Hob’s shoulder, pitching his hips forward again and again. Chasing his pleasure and wiping Hob’s brain clean of anything except Dream, Dream, Dream.

Hob gets a hand up, trailing the underside of Dream’s thigh up to his ass and gropes, pulling him with more force against his face until he knows he’s gonna have a bruise on his nose tomorrow. He can hardly breathe, but he’s moaning in delight at the absolutely unrestrained way Dream selfishly takes and takes, fucking Hob’s face with reckless abandon, getting faster and faster, more uncoordinated until–

Dream comes with a long, low wine, his hips stuttering with it and Hob unlatches his jaw to catch all the slick in his mouth, humming pleasantly, like he’s just taken a bite from an extravagant meal.

But Hob doesn’t relish in the taste for long, his own cock is throbbing in his pants and after thoroughly licking Dream out– sensing Dream’s thighs shake from the stimulation– he stands up, grabs Dream by the jaw, and kisses him. Hard and messy and Dream licks inside of his mouth like he intends to crawl inside. 

“Fuck me,” Dream reminds Hob in a puff of hot air, and Hob is all to willing to give him exactly what he wants.

Hob leans past Dream to swipe an arm over his desk, pushing things– inconsequential really– off and onto the floor in a loud clatter.

He doesn’t miss the fucked out, satisfied smirk on Dream’s face before Hob then turns him around, one hand flat on Dream’s back to push him down onto the desk. Dream goes willingly, pliant and with a breathy “Oh, yes…” muffled against the polished wood. Keeping his hand on Dream’s lower back, Hob struggles unbuckling his belt with wet, slippery fingers. 

Dream’s ass wiggles temptingly before him, distracting Hob enough to get his hand under that sinfully short skirt and fondle the flesh there, spreading one cheek out and pushing his thumb against the tight material of the stockings to get at Dream’s asshole.

Dream arches his back and pushes into Hob’s hold with a soft whine that goes straight to Hob’s cock. He’d love to fuck Dream’s ass. He presents it so willingly… but Hob is too impatient for prep. And with Dream’s cunt already slick and loose– Hob’s mind is made up.

His fingers trail down to the small slit in the stockings and tear it wider, so Dream’s entire sex is exposed, all the way up to his pretty asshole. Hob hears Dream hum in delight as he pushes his hips back expectantly.

Hob finally manages to get his cock out, his pants barely hanging onto his hips, and gives it a few strokes to take the edge off.

Dream is panting beneath him, spreading his legs, his ass out and god– Hob is obsessed. He’s probably in love too but he’s not going to think about that.

Hob slots his pelvis flush against Dream’s rear, slipping his erection in between the scant flesh there and breathes deeply, taking a moment to look down at the vision before him. Dream’s strong shoulders and slim back, the bra still hooked on with one strap threatening to slip free. His elbows bent at his sides, anticipation clear in his posture and the way his ass pushes now against Hob’s throbbing member, becoming impatient.

“Hob…” Dream’s protest is breathy, probably not as commanding as he’d anticipated but it makes Hob smile all the same, one hand roaming up Dream’s back and down again, resting his hold once more on his rear.

He gets in cock in the other hand and lines himself up with Dream’s soaked hole, almost glistening, sliding into Dream in one long, slow glide, moaning in relief and agony, because Dream is so deliriously tight.

“Fuck, baby…”

“Move,” Dream demands, but his voice sounds broken, desperate.

“So needy…” Hob grunts, sliding out and relishing in the leisurely drag. He starts at a slow pace, biting down another moan that bubbles up from his throat. “Fuck you feel incredible. You dressed like this for me?”

“Do you like it?” Dream looks over his shoulder and Hob gasps at how Dream already looks so debauched. “I was going to surprise you in class with it first– ah!” Hob smirks at the cry, having given in momentarily with a hard thrust. “But I couldn't wait that long.”

“You little shit,” Hob pants, picking up the pace. His hands are tight around Dream’s hips. “Are you gonna get changed before lecture?”

“What do you think?” The grin Dream throws over his shoulder is vicious and drives Hob absolutely mad. 

Hob can see it already, how Dream will squirm in his seat, displaying himself, immodest and shameless as he always is. How the hell is Hob supposed to focus on the lesson plan knowing how brutally he’d fucked Dream just an hour prior.

He fucks him faster. “You’re going to leave cum all over the seat.” Hob means for the words to come out admonishingly, but it sounds like a revelation in his own ears, excitement coloring his tone and it only quickened his pace, snapping his hips and tearing out a choked off cry from Dream’s lips.

“And I’m gonna spread my legs and make sure you see what you’ve done to me during the. Entire. Lecture.” Dream seizes up, his head snapping up as if on a string. “Fuck! Hob! Right there–!”

Hob nearly growls as he sets up a brutal pace. His hips pistoning as he strikes that spot in Dream again and again and again. Dream’s hands flailing to grab onto something, his nails scratching the surface of Hob’s desk while another holds onto the edge of it, his entire body bouncing with each contact. The slick slap, slap, slap coupled with Dream’s ragged, hitched breaths echo around Hob and coil deep in his gut, the tension there coiling tighter and tighter…

Hob throws his head back to stare at the ceiling, keeping himself in check as he slows, his hands clawing at the skin of Dream’s hips, holding him firm. Dream groans, despairing at the slowed pace and begins to squirm in his hold.

“Hob–”

“Oh, my sweet Dream…” Hob breathes, his voice hoarse, pitched low as he looks down again, transfixed at the sight of his cock disappearing into Dream with easy, heavy thrusts. He slips it out just so his cockhead is visible, taking himself in hand to trace around the rim of Dream’s entrance, forcing a full body shudder from the student, before easing back in.

“You take me so well,” Hob slips his hands down to get Dream’s delicious ass in his hands, pushing the skirt up over his sharp hip bones to fully put him on display. “Your body was made for me, sweet thing. So good for me.”

Dream keens under the praise, his body rolling helplessly on Hob’s cock, riding desperately for friction that Hob barely has a hold on, his arousal screaming at him to take, it nearly hurts Hob to force himself to slow down. But he wants to make this last, wants to keep Dream here, sprawled out on his desk and behaving oh so patiently until Hob can get himself back under control.

“Hob–” Dream sobs again, pushing his hips back once more and Hob pulling out just in time, denying the pleasure and Dream’s fingers claw at the desk. “Hob please–!”

It’s the please that finally makes Hob snap, he could never deny Dream for long. He wants to spoil him rotten, wants to give him everything. The revelation is enough to send Hob spiraling, how much his chest aches with the desire to do anything to keep Dream close, always. So he does, his hands sliding back to his hips and holding on as he yanks him back, spearing Dream on his cock again and again, ripping out strangled cries that get caught in Dream’s throat, finally getting what he wants and delivering it at a punishing pace.

“More, more! Oh, fuck! Hob–!”

“Shh, Dream. I got you,” Hob grunts, he watches Dream slap a hand over his mouth again. Hob’s hold is nearly slipping– Dream’s skin shines with sweat, exertion out of every pore. “So close– fuck!”

Dream is close too, Hob can feel how his walls tighten around him like he intends to pull his cock deeper inside. He reaches a hand between Dream’s legs, where they are coupled, and all it takes is a fluttering touch of Hob’s fingers against Dream’s clit and Hob knows he’s coming, his scream barely muffled behind his hand. 

Dream’s head falls, his forehead hitting the desk with a dull thunk as he desperately grinds his hips back, milking it for all it’s worth before he finally collapses, boneless, against the solid wood surface.

Hob drapes himself over Dream’s back, finally allowing himself to give in and fuck relentlessly into him over and over, his hands finding Dream’s and lacing their fingers together tightly as Hob moans into Dream’s skin, coming so hard he nearly slips out and definitely sees white for a moment there.

His thrusts turn shallow, ears attuned to Dream’s happy sighs as Hob pumps his seed into him, slow but unrelenting, even as he feels himself going soft.

“Oh, Dream. My Dream,” Hob praises, breathless, kissing up the knobs of his spine to the nape of his neck. 

“Mm… yours.” Dream’s voice rumbles like thunder, satisfied.

Hob dips his head, his damp brows touching Dream’s back as he collects himself, and remembers where they are. Shit, he really hopes no one heard them. This is why he’d made a hard rule about fucking on campus; Dream was always so vocal. And as they sit in silence, Hob realizes how loud they had been, despite Dream’s best efforts to stifle his cries.

He finally peels himself off of Dream, pulling out and his cock giving a valiant twitch of interest with the way Dream makes a pathetic sound of loss, his knees bending slightly as he properly hangs onto the desk now.

Hob’s cum immediately begins to seep down Dream’s thighs, Hob can see how it soaks into the black mesh and… lord have mercy– Hob is truly going to hell– how it drips onto the floor.

“Dream…” Hob doesn’t know what he wants to say, maybe ask Dream to sit on his face, to lap up their combined spend so he can smell it on his skin for the rest of the day. God he’s so well and truly fucked. 

Instead, he helps Dream off the desk and curls them down onto the floor, Dream seated on his lap and wrapping his arms around Hob’s shoulders.

“You keep surprising me,” Hob says, his thumb caressing the line of Dream’s jaw and up to his cheekbones. “Devious, sexy thing.”

Dream smiles and leans in to tap their noses together.

“I actually don’t want to go to class anymore.”

“No?” Hob grins. He hasn’t checked the time in a while, but he’s sure they still have maybe an hour at least.

“You should cancel it.”

Hob laughs, his arms coiling around Dream’s middle, hands moving up his back.

“I’m not going to cancel it,” he smiles at the despairing way Dream grumbles. “But how about this: you go home, get some rest, and I’ll be there after to give all my attention to you.”

Dream stares at him, his eyes searching. It’s not the first time Hob has said “home” for the both of them, indicating his own house, which of course Dream has the spare keys to. He’d like to make it their home… Hob wants Dream to think of anything of Hob's as Dream’s as well… he hopes he can convey it without being explicit… how he wants to share his life with Dream.

And wonderfully, Dream seems to understand, tipping his head forward for a kiss.

“I’ll be waiting.”