#Statistics Tutoring for Students
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Help with Statistics Homework to Build Confidence in Stats Class
Statistics is an essential course for all disciplines including business, social science, engineering, and data science. Statistics, in particular, is among the most difficult subjects that many students struggle with. Challenges often arise from its mix of theoretical and practical aspects of the subject, mathematical computations involved, and precision needed in the analysis of data. It is not easy to develop confidence in statistics, but with the right approach, tutorials, resources, and change of mindset it is possible to master statistics rather than to fear it. In this article, you will discover how students can increase their confidence in statistics class by seeking the right help with statistics homework and how quality assistance can keep them one step ahead.
Why Statistics Feels Intimidating and Why Confidence Matters
Statistics is intimidating for many students, often due to a few core challenges:
Complexity and Abstract Concepts: Statistics involves abstract thinking which is more complex than algebra or calculus, requiring proficiency in concepts such as probabilities and statistical modeling. Most students often find it difficult to identify which statistical tests to use, or when to use a t-test instead of an ANOVA or comprehend what p-values and confidence intervals interpret.
Data Analysis Requirements: When it comes to statistics the goal is not to solve a problem, but to analyze and interpret data accurately. In the case of students who are not conversant with data manipulation tools such as Excel, SPSS, or R this can be very challenging. Application of these software tools creates an added level of difficulty making it more challenging for students to carry out their analysis.
Pressure of Application: Statistics indeed has a purpose and is not just limited to classroom teaching. It requires students to apply knowledge in solving difficult, real-life issues. It can be intimidating at times, and that’s pretty understandable because there isn’t usually a single correct answer, but rather different perspectives and interpretations based on data.
Due to these difficulties, statistics hinder the confidence of even the most disciplined learners. Due to lack of confidence, may result in procrastination, reduced performance as well as a tendency to not seek assistance from other fellow students and professors. Utilizing the right resources and guidance, students can regain confidence and develop a strong foundation in statistics.
The Role of Homework Help in Building Confidence
To obtain confidence in a statistics class one of the best things to do is to get reliable experts for high-quality help with statistics homework. Expert homework assistance goes a long way when it comes to simplifying complex topics, explaining confusing concepts, or demonstrating solutions that mimic real-life problems. Here’s how it can transform a student's learning experience:
1. Focus on Tough Topics: A tutor or homework service can give explanations that match the grasping power of a student. The solutions provided by homework help experts are self-explanatory which becomes easier for students to grasp. Difficult topics are broken down into manageable parts for easy understanding and make it engaging for students. 2. Practice with Feedback: Practicing problems along with instant feedback is critical for mastering statistics. Most assignment help services provide guidance at every step along with helpful feedback to the students to see where they are wrong and advice on suitable methods to use. 3. Application of Statistical Software: Learning advanced stat software like R, SPSS, or Python is always a challenge for beginners. Assignment help services can teach students how to use them properly, with hands-on examples of coding and choosing the right statistical methods. 4. Improved Time Management and Stress Reduction: Solving statistics homework involves a lot of time and energy. With guided assistance, students are able to solve problems faster, and with less confusion thereby cutting down time and work overload. This helps them to be able to keep up with their coursework.
Our service is aimed at students who have difficulties with completing their statistics homework on their own. Here students can find helpful resources on basic and advanced statistical methods, and analysis tools, as well as useful tips for solving problems. All in all, students not only get their assignments done but also receive useful information that can help them build confidence in the subject.
Key Strategies for Building Confidence in Statistics Class
Besides using homework help, students can take specific actions to help herself or himself. Here are some effective strategies that can make a significant difference:
1. Understand the Basics Before Solving a problem
Indeed, statistics as a subject has a foundational structure; understanding the basic concepts first paves way for handling advanced concepts. Some of the key basic topics that are essential are descriptive statistics (arithmetic mean, geometric mean, standard deviation) probability/probabilities, and basic probability distributions. By mastering these basic concepts, students are in a good position to learn more complicated concepts like Inferential statistics and regression analysis.
A good source to sharpen your basic statistics knowledge is – “Statistics for Dummies” by Deborah Rumsey, this book breaks down essential statistical concepts in an easy-to-understand manner.
2. Use Reliable Resources and Textbooks
Good textbooks and resources provide clarity.” Some highly recommended textbooks for students learning statistics include:
• “The Essentials of Statistics” by Mario Triola: This textbook is favored in statistics courses, as the author presents all concepts in a clear and understandable manner for students to succeed in class.
• “Applied Statistics and Probability for Engineers” by Douglas C. Montgomery: This book should come in handy to engineering students and it contains real-life examples and applications.
• “Introduction to the Practice of Statistics” by Moore, McCabe, and Craig: An encyclopedic book that also features practical examples thus recommended for students in the social and natural sciences.
3. Practice with Real Data
Using real datasets can help to make statistics much more interesting. Students can sharpen their data analysis skills by practicing with the datasets that belong to their field of study. Kaggle has free datasets for all types of projects and domains so that students can execute statistical tests on real datasets and analyze the impact of their analysis.
4. Develop a Strong Support System
Studying with friends in a group provides additional support and motivation. Students can easily study groups to solve problems, exchange ideas, and perspectives, and study material. Moreover, there are many forums and communities available online where students can join and get guidance and advice from experienced statisticians.
5. Seek Help Early and Consistently
This is one of the most common mistakes that students make is waiting until the last minute to complete their assignments. Engaging with homework helps experts prevent last-minute panic and enables students to strengthen their conceptual knowledge gradually and at the same time identify weak areas. This helps build confidence.
Our Statistics Homework Help Service: Building Confidence Step-by-Step
For students who are in need of help with statistics assignments, our homework help service provides a reliable medium. We offer:
•Personalized Tutoring: Our explanations are based upon the individual abilities of the student; to help him/her solve certain questions or tasks they are having difficulty with.
•Assignment Solutions: We offer comprehensive solutions for your assignments and homework with post-delivery clarification support to clear all doubts.
•Software Support: We advise on how to utilize R, SPSS, SAS, MINITAB, Excel, and other statistical software that are widely used in statistics classes and assessments.
• Flexible Scheduling: We are flexible to enable the students to come for help as and when they want to.
More Teaching Aid and Assistance for Statistics Students
To supplement further help with statistics homework, here are some additional tools and resources students may find useful:
•StatCrunch: An online tool to perform statistical analysis with simple and versatile tools.
•Wolfram Alpha: An application or software that can handle statistical problems and provide a step-by-step explanation of how it was solved.
•YouTube Channels: There is no shortage of channels with good statistical video tutorials available on YouTube showing step-by-step examples of approaching and solving a problem pr performing statistical processes in software like R, SPSS, SAS, Eviews, etc.
Conclusion: Embrace the Journey to Mastery in Statistics
Though statistics may seem very daunting at first, with the right support and will, any student can master this important area of academics and mold themselves into confident statisticians. Getting confidence in statistics is a blend of grasping the fundamental concepts combined with continuous consistent problem-solving and having reliable expert support that can be counted upon for assistance whenever needed. Whether through our homework help service, recommended textbooks, or any additional resource, students can get over their fears, creating a definite pathway to success in statistics.
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Impact of Dummy Variables on Regression Outcomes: Econometrics Analysis Help
Introduction
In general, dummy variables in econometrics are effective tools to incorporate qualitative data into regression models. Usually taking values of either 0 or 1, dummy variables allow us to capture the effects of discrete categories (such as gender, region, or treatment) on the dependent variable. To students studying econometrics, dummy variables represent the possibility of making such categorical influences quantifiable within the standard methodologies of regression testing. These are particularly useful when analyzing data that contain not just quantitative factors but also qualitative factors such as disparity of income between different genders and the effect of government policies across various regions.
Dummy variables are very useful in econometric analysis for obtaining accurate analysis and interpretable results, as they segment data based on meaningful categories that may otherwise remain hidden. For students working on econometric analysis, learning how to implement dummy variables can simplify complex analyses and make models more instinctive. Students can take assistance from econometrics homework help experts to master different techniques that can be used in the most efficient way to set up and interpret dummy variables. This guide focuses on the basic concept of dummy variables, their use in linear regression, their importance, and their implementation using Python codes to help students in their coursework assignments.
How to Use Dummy Variables for Better Interpretability in Linear Regression Models
Explaining what Dummy Variables are in Linear Regression
When conducting a linear regression analysis, dummy variables are used to quantify how categorical variables impact the outcome variable. For instance, we can examine the effects that the region of an individual has on his or her income. Here, the region is categorical (North, South, East, West), and by using dummy variables we obtain the binary set of indicators for each corresponding region allowing us to model the changes in incomes peculiar to these locations. If the dummy variables were not included in the equation, the regression would assume the region to be a continuous variable which is a nonsensical approach, or it would exclude this variable altogether, thus eliminating useful insights. Dummy variables solve this issue by following a binary format, where 0 or 1 are assigned to show whether that certain category exists or not. Here is a guide on performing dummy variable coding in Python, especially for simple regression analysis.
Step-by-Step Guide with Python Code
Suppose we have a dataset involving information on income, gender, and level of education. To incorporate categorical effects into the income prediction, we will incorporate dummy variables.
1. Loading the Dataset
Suppose we have a sample dataset of people's income, gender, and education levels. We’ll use the Python library pandas to load and explore the dataset:
import pandas as PD
# Sample dataset
data = pd.DataFrame({
'income': [55000, 48000, 62000, 45000, 52000],
'gender': ['Male', 'Female', 'Male', 'Female', 'Male'],
'education': ['Bachelor', 'Master', 'Bachelor', 'PhD', 'Master']
})
print(data)
Now, let’s introduce dummy variables for gender and education to capture their unique impacts on income.
1. Creating dummy variables using pandas.get_dummies()
To make dummy variables, python’s Panda library provides an easy method. Let’s create dummy variables for gender as well as for education.
# Generate dummy variables
data_dummies = pd.get_dummies(data, columns=['gender', 'education'], drop_first=True)
print(data_dummies)
By using drop_first=True we prevent the so-called dummy variable trap which happens when all categories are included in the model leading to perfect multicollinearity. Here, the gender_Female and the education_Master, education_PhD point to each category.
1. Setting Up the Regression Model
It is now possible to fit the linear regression using dummy variables to predict income. We are going to build and evaluate the model by using the statsmodels package in Python.
import statsmodels.api as sm
# Define the dependent and independent variables
X = data_dummies.drop('income', axis=1)
y = data_dummies['income']
# Add constant for intercept
X = sm.add_constant(X)
# Fit the model
model = sm.OLS(y, X).fit()
print(model.summary())
In this setup, we include gender_Female as a dummy variable and assign it a value of 1 for ‘Female’ and 0 for ‘Male’ which will be our reference category. Likewise, for education, “Bachelor” is the baseline category, with separate summy variables on “Master” and “PhD”. Using the results of the constructed model, we can understand how being female as well as having higher educational standards influences income as compared to other baseline categories.
Interpreting the Results
Let’s understand how dummy variables affect the regression:
• Intercept: The intercept means the anticipated income for the reference category, in this case, a male with an education level of Bachelor’s degree.
• Gender Coefficient: The coefficient of gender_Female describes the variation of income of females from the male baseline category.
• Education Coefficients: The coefficients for education_Master and education_PhD indicate the income difference caused by these degrees compared to those with a bachelor’s degree.
We get insight of how each categorical variable affects the income by comparing each dummy variable’s coefficient. For instance, if the coefficient for gender_Female is negative this means, females earn less on average than males.
Looking for help with economics homework? We have the solution.
Why Choose Econometrics Homework Help for Your Assignments?
For students learning econometrics, especially when dealing with complex analysis using Python, our econometrics homework help service provides a smooth, expert-backed solution for mastering the subject. The service is perfect for a student in need of guidance on the application of techniques in econometrics, their accuracy, and clarity regarding the implementation of Python. With our service, you access professionals who are well-experienced both in the field of study and with the implementation of Python.
Simple Process to Avail the Service
Starting is easy. All you need to do is submit your assignment file, which includes everything - instructions and data files if necessary for the data analysis. Our team reviews the requirements for assigning an expert and then commences writing a solution following all instructions and questions. We deliver perfectly annotated code and clear explanations so you can understand every single step and apply it in future assignments.
Solution Preparation and Key Features
Each solution is developed with a focus on its academic quality standards and the thoroughness of the econometric analysis performed. We use Python code for the calculations, elaborate output explanation, and relevant econometric theory to give you step-by-step explanations for a clear understanding.
Our key features include:
• Post-Delivery Doubt Clearing: After the solution has been delivered, we conduct free sessions to clarify all doubts.
• Free Amendments: If necessary, we perform free revisions for improvement.
• Detailed Explanations: Every solution provided is accompanied by an explanation to show how the problems are solved and the processes used.
Conclusion
Dummy variables are invaluable in the econometric model for controlling the effects of categorical data. This is where students and researchers can capture those nuances otherwise lost in purely numerical models. Students can easily create dummy variables and fit regression models using Python, getting some pretty interpretable results regarding differences across categories in their data. Being able to master these techniques will allow them to overcome complex assignments and practical analyses with confidence. Further assistance with our econometrics homework help service can provide much-needed support at crunch times and exam preparation.
Commonly Asked Questions
1. What If I have a hard time understanding a certain segment of the solution?
After delivery of the product, we assist with clarity on the concepts in case there is an aspect that the student did not understand.
2. Can the assignment solution be customized as per my requirements?
Absolutely. When solving each task, we strictly adhere to the instructions given in the provided assignment file so that all of them meet your individual requirements.
3. If I opt for your econometrics homework help, what is your turnaround time?
Do you have a tight schedule? We appreciate the value of time and provide several options to speed up the flow, including a fast turnaround.
Further Reading and Resources
Understanding the use of dummy variables in econometrics is very important Some helpful resources and textbooks that the students can follow are mentioned below: 1. Introductory Econometrics: A Modern Approach by Jeffrey M. Wooldridge - This textbook is highly recommended in which dummy variables are very well discussed and the concept of regression is explained with a crystal-clear view. 2. Econometrics by Example by Damodar N. Gujarati: This book contains examples and case studies; hence, it is suitable for practice. 3. Python libraries. To write a regression model, one must consider the following Python libraries: Statsmodels for an econometric model and Pandas in terms of handling data with dummy variable generation.
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Enhance your memory with the "Method of Loci." 🧠 Associate study material with specific locations or objects to recall information better during exams. 💡
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the tutor in dorm 24B
inspired by this request
meantutor!re2!leon x fem!reader
summary: you have no choice but to go to your math professor for help in the class. unfortunately, he can't help you. but he knows a certain blonde that can, top of his class, perfect scores on everything, just the tutor for you.
tags: college!au, math/stats terminology, ooc leon, leon is an asshole, leon & reader have attitudes, dom!leon, slightly jealous leon, degrading kink, praise kink, leon talks you through it, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (use safety guys!), oral sex, cunnilingus, clit stimulation, teasing, etc.
word count: 9.8k 🧍♀️ (this shit long sorry)
math is horrible. you’ve never been bright in math, plus it isn’t fun. it’s only fun when you understand what you’re doing. especially statistics, which is a whole other level for math. there are symbols, very important definitions and strategies, formulas and techniques, very precise calculations and data.
you never understood what the teacher was writing up on the board when you’d step into lecture. he moved fast and spoke even faster, you’re hands would cramp trying to keep up with him and you’re notes were a jumbled mess.
even if you tried so hard, you just couldn’t understand. your mind was constantly running, like a hamster on a wheel though it was nonstop. it was the same schedule pretty much every day. you wake up, rush out of your dorm, race to class, get to class huffing and puffing, and you do this three more times for your other classes.
then after a long day of learning, you’re off to work at the cafe down the street. it’s a very famous cafe, especially with it being so close to campus. convenient for students who needed work and wanted a nice coffee.
after work, you’d go back to your dorm on the brink of passing out, but of course, you had to study.
it was a constant look, a constant cycle that seemingly never broke until summer break. your days were starting to blend together and you were slowly driving yourself insane. at one point, you put stats at the back of your mind since you were so focused on an essay for your english class.
little did you know that you’d pay for that in the future. you missed one class, one lecture - and it seemed like you missed a whole semester.
you went to class the next day, after turning in that very important essay, and you were completely lost. you tried talking to your classmate about what the professor was talking about but she was just as lost as you.
if you thought stats was hard before, it’s even harder now. you looked over your notes from before, trying to correlate those to the ones now. though, nothing made sense.
that led you to where you are now. a week later, still very much lost, and you’re grade dropping with every single assignment.
you toyed with the drawstring of your sweats, blinking your dry eyes and nibbling at the dry skin of your lip. you were trying so hard to stay awake as your professor scrolled through your grades. his eyes were squinted and his knuckles pressed to his lips.
he had a pensive look on his face, looking from your scores and back to you.
you could practically read his mind. it was embarrassing and shameful. he took off his glasses with a sigh and turned his chair to face you.
“you were doing really good in the beginning but after chapter three i mean,” he paused gesturing his head over to the computer where the D’s and F’s lined up like a pattern.
“what happened? chapter three was so long ago why didn’t you reach out?”
you never understood why some professors didn’t take students' lives into consideration. some professors think that students have no life while others are very considerate. this professor wasn’t one of those professors.
he didn’t understand why his students couldn’t understand his material or why people asked stupid questions. even though, at the beginning of the semester he mentioned:
‘even stupid questions are good questions’
then when that stupid question is asked. he sits there with a disappointed look on his face and quite literally embarrasses that student in front of everyone. which is why, you don’t ask questions at all. you don’t want to be embarrassed, especially not in front of 30 other people.
“i’m sorry, my life has just been really hectic lately and-“ you rambled, running your hands over your face with a heavy sigh. until, of course, you were interrupted.
“no worries, i understand but,” he paused again, judging you with his eyes and completely ignoring the fact that you were on the brink of a mental breakdown. “you gotta reach out for help if you need it.”
even if you tried, it probably wouldn’t help. his teaching methods are like tough love. harsh but it’s supposed to teach you a lesson. spoiler alert, it never does.
he reached over for a pen and a sticky note and you watched him scribble down a few numbers and a name.
“i can’t really help you since my life is also hectic,”
alright, asshole. you’re the fucking professor you should be helping me. you said to yourself, never in your life did you want to slap someone so bad,
“but i can refer you to one of my top students.” he pushed the sticky note toward you. you picked it up and read the name at the top, his dorm number, and his phone number.
great, just what you needed a tutor.
you weren’t sure how exactly this ’top student’ was passing this class with flying colors and it was to the point your professor was impressed. which he never is and never was.
either this top student is sucking your professor's dick behind the scenes or is actually insane.
you read the name at the top as your professor began to speak.
“his name is Leon, he’s gotten perfect scores on every quiz and test, very smart and a decent kid,”
yup, Leon is definitely sucking this man's dick.
Leon’s contact info and his dorm room were written underneath his name. it was odd that he didn’t tutor in the library like the rest of the tutors did. though, given the fact he’d rather tutor in his dorm, he probably isn’t a tutor at all.
“i contacted him before our meeting today, he’s expecting you.
“oh, okay.” you nodded slowly, pocketing the small slip of paper. you weren’t so sure if you were comfortable being alone in a random dorm with some guy you’ve never met, but for the sake of your grade you were willing to do so.
you finalized your meeting with your professor and left his office even more unsatisfied than when you came. you were hoping he’d give you a run down on what you missed but instead, he completely dismissed you to his top student.
you left the building phone and slip of paper in hand, you weren’t sure if you should text him or not. ultimately, you decided it could wait. you were exhausted and maybe a small nap would be helpful rather than going to this guy's dorm where you probably wouldn’t learn jack shit.
—
Leon waited for you. he was told to expect you around the afternoon, so he canceled his plans with his friends, he went home to his dorm, tidied up, and put on a more suitable outfit. he never wanted to be a tutor it was tiring trying to teach someone something over and over again.
plus, he had doubt in his skills as well. he would be to blame if someone were to get a bad score or if they failed their exam.
but when his stats professor made a deal with Leon, he decided to take it. if he were to tutor you and possibly future students, he’d put in a good word with any police academy he wanted to join.
Leon wasn’t so sure how his professor would get that to happen but it was better than nothing at all.
so he waited, half an hour went by and then an hour and another. at this point, he was tired both physically and mentally. he sat leaned onto his desk with an elbow, tapping his pen against his notebook. it didn’t take long for him to catch the hint that you weren’t coming.
and just as he was about to strip his clothes to take a nap, there was a knock at his dorm door. his hands dropped at his sides and a sigh left his mouth, though he tried to maintain a calm act even though he was close to bursting into flames.
he was irritated, you were two hours late, he was already drained from a long day of sprinting around campus for his classes and he just got dumped not too long ago. he does not have time to be in a good mood.
albeit, he still opened the door with a smile.
“hi, you must be-“
“yes, i’m so so sorry! i know i was supposed to be here hours ago,”
Leon let out a small laugh, mumbling under his breath, “yeah, you were…”
unfortunately, you heard that part, and your heart dropped. at first glance, this guy looks like a sweetheart. he had a nice face, his cheeks a little round but his jaw very defined and sharp. his eyebrows were relaxed and a thick brown, and his dirty blonde hair was split down the side and a little long — the ends just touching the height of his cheekbones.
his lips were plump and a nice pink, glasses were perched up on his head and you guessed he was probably wearing them earlier.
his chin had a small indent, a little butt chin almost. he had two beauty marks on his throat, right on his adams apple, and a few small ones on his face.
he wore a basic dark blue sweater, even with the baggy fabric you could still tell his shoulders were nice and broad and he paired his sweater with basic grey sweats.
he was very attractive, tall, and muscular but that baby face was throwing you off. it wasn’t a bad thing, rather it was intriguing. how are you supposed to focus when there’s a very attractive man tutoring you? maybe your professor is secretly setting you up.
“oh god, i’m so sorry. i probably should’ve gotten your number from our professor,”
“uh no worries, just come in.” he said in a hurry, opening the door further for you. you nodded to him a thank you and stepped inside.
his dorm smelt of fresh mint and lemon, there was a hint of spice in the air as well. it was pretty warm, which made you guess the heater was on.
he shut the door behind you, walking past you as you stayed in the doorway to slip off your shoes. you took around the room for a second. his bed was up against the left side of the room, away from the sight of the door. dark midnight blue sheet, with a matching duvet and pillowcases.
underneath his bed were a bunch of bins, probably clothes and extra storage. against the back wall was his desk, piles of papers and different books were all stacked neatly at the side. the large window above the desk allowed a natural hue of light to cast down into the room, giving the room a pale yellow glow.
against the other wall was a dresser and closet. his room was very generic, with some posters and photos taped to the walls and a whiteboard with messy scribbles depicting his schedule for the week.
“so uh, how much did the professor tell you?” he asked, sitting at his desk chair and swerving around towards you and he lowered his glasses down to his eyes. you took a few steps further into his dorm, adjusting the tote bag on your shoulder.
“um he just said to meet you here and that you could help,”
“well no shit,” he scoffed, catching you off guard and sending a tense feeling through your muscles. “did he say what you needed help with? which chapter? which concept?” he asked and each time you shook your head like a dumbass.
“i’ve kind of been struggling the whole semester i just-“
“why didn’t you get help earlier?” Leon asked curiously, tilting his head to the side. unlike your professor, who seemed actually concerned this time. but that concern was probably for himself instead of you.
“i was embarrassed, i guess,” you shrugged.
he sighed, dropping his head and nodding his it up an down.
“okay well, uh please sit anywhere really uhh,” he got up from his desk chair and walked over towards the other corner of his dorm. there was another small chair in the corner, albeit a bit old, and he brought it over to his desk.
“sorry, i’m not used to visitors.”
���no worries,”
you sat down on his old chair and placed your tote bag into your lap as he opened up his computer. you watched as he brought his glasses up in front of his eyes and opened up the course page. “so uh, what did you need help with?”
his tone was harsh, almost like your professors. you felt intimidated by him, he was smart and quite rude.
“um well, everything?” your answer sounded more like a question, causing him to raise an eyebrow up at you.
“i’m sorry, i can’t help you with everything,” he spat, turning his shoulders towards you with one elbow on his desk. “give me specifics, like which chapter?”
“every chapter, it just isn’t making sense to me and i-“
a sigh left his lips and his shoulders slumped, you could practically hear the thoughts running through his head. “alright well, i can help you with the first chapter,” he said with a shrug.
you nodded along, reaching into your bag for your notes.
“the first chapter is pretty basic. basic terminology and techniques we use throughout the class, ‘kay?” he began, speaking with his hands as he went. you nodded at him, placing your notebook at the edge of his desk and writing down what he just said.
anything counts, anything you could get would help. you needed to get a good grade in this class, if you had to retake it for the credit it would be a disaster.
“it’s mostly the types of data, the collections of data, the types of sampling — and those are the basics.” his eyes flickered from his computer down towards your hunched figure. you were writing down every single word he spoke. you’d repeat his words to yourself in silent whispers.
then, as you finished writing, you looked up at him and waited for him to continue but he was left speechless. you really were desperate.
“tell me, do you know any of the terminology in chapter 1?” he asked, turning his full figure towards you. doing so, his knees were now touching yours. he didn’t miss the way you scooched back further in your chair to avoid his touch. cute.
“uh,” you hummed to yourself as you flicked through your notes and back to chapter one.
“no, no,” he stopped you, placing his hand over yours and bringing it back down into your lap. “tell me from memory, not from your notes.”
he watched you blink at him as if you were processing his words slowly, “uh yeah, i can do that.” you leaned away from his desk and your notes and faced him, your knees touching his again.
“i know sample versus population,”
“give me an example of both.” he cut you off again, leaning back into his chair and adjusting his hips.
“um, a population will be all the college students of our university but a sample would be just the engineer students,”
“good, at least you know that.”
you gave him a nervous laugh, a little more proud than you should be but his praise made you feel … good.
he continued to make you list what you know, making sure you knew every term by giving him real-life scenarios and every time you got it correct it was like a golden sticker was placed on your forehead. you were beginning to understand and, as ridiculous as it sounds, you were starting to have fun.
relating the different terms to real-life situations made it easy on you, rather than the unrealistic scenarios your professor gave you.
he let out a loud yawn and you caught a whiff of his minty breath, he’d been chewing on mint gum for the past hour now. throwing an old one away and popping in a new stick. you could tell he was getting tired, he was less responsive and blinking slowly.
“i think you should get some rest,” you told him. he looked over at you with a small ‘hm?’ before shaking his head, blonde hair sweeping over the bone of his brow and lips curling down into a frown.
“i’m fine,” he practically shouted out after another yawn, “let’s just finish it, ‘kay?”
“no, Leon, it’s okay we can continue another time.”
he stayed silent, his lips pursed as he looked down at your notes. gradually, his head began to bob up and down into a nod and another yawn left his mouth. this time, he stretched back, letting his sweater glide up slightly to reveal a sharp v-line and brown happy trail.
you quickly looked away and began to pack up your things, shoving your notebook and pencil case into your bag — not even bothering to shut or zip anything up.
“man, look at the time,” he said, lifting up his sleeve to reveal a black watch. “next time be on time, that way we have more time.” he smiled at you as you stood up.
you weren’t sure whether to take that as a friendly reminder or a warning but either way you nodded.
you made your way towards the door, slipping on your shoes and looking back at him to say goodbye. you expected him to still be seated at his desk or even going to lay on his bed. though, to your surprise, he was standing directly behind you.
hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweater.
“jesus!,” you jumped, “sorry, you surprised me.”
“uh, who else do you expect to lock the door behind you?”
you blinked up at him, again caught off guard. he was a little bipolar with his attitude, one minute he’s proud of you for getting something the next he’s making fun of you with his eyes.
“well, goodnight,” you said to him as you stepped out the door, he didn’t say anything else. he kicked the door closed and locked it the moment you stepped out.
you could feel your eye twitch, only if you could march back in there and beat the blue out of his eyes but he was just a tutor. just a few weeks of this and then you’ll never have to speak to him again.
-
“are you serious? we just went over this,”
“i’m sorry i blanked out,”
“no, you didn’t i was watching you giggle on the phone with that little boyfriend of yours,”
“first of all, why are you watching me? and second of all, i wasn’t on the phone with any boyfriend.”
he sighed, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “i wasn’t stalking you, dumbass. your bright ass screen caught my attention and when i looked over voila it’s you.”
he leaned forward, pointing a finger at your face and squinting his eyes behind his glasses, “and who else would have you giggling like that in the middle of a lesson huh?”
to be honest, he didn’t like that you weren’t paying attention, it was more work on him because you always came crying to him about not understanding a topic. he didn’t necessarily hate tutoring you. sure, you guys had some fun times but it was beginning to become a part of his everyday life.
canceling plans on his friends, not going to the gym, and missing out on his personal time. his goal was to teach you and go over a chapter every week, it was working … slowly but surely.
“i saw a funny video, ‘kay?”
“wow, so you’re just sitting in class watching silly videos. no wonder why your brain is rotten.”
“hey, asshole, the professor wasn’t even talking about anything important. it was more about his dumbass grandkids,” you rebutted, grumbling your words toward the end of your sentence.
“if it wasn’t anything important, how come you don’t know what he just fucking talked about?” he said with a scoff.
you groaned and began to pack your things, you probably should’ve done this a long time ago. sure, Leon helps, but he belittles you in every way and it’s beginning to actually hurt. his rude comments and attitude.
he was like a hawk or a vulture, hovering over you every second of the day and then picking at you when you were alone. slowly tearing at your skin and ripping off flesh until he got to bone. he was always watching you.
you couldn’t go on your phone in class to check a text or even walk out early because he will know and will say something about it later. maybe it was time for another tutor.
“whatever, Leon. you’re not helping anymore.” you scoffed his way as you stuffed your computer into your bag.
“that’s where your wrong, your grades have been getting better, haven’t they?”
“what are you? my dad? you’re checking my grades now?”
only if he wasn’t so stupidly handsome, you would probably smack him across the face or maybe choke him out. there was something about Leon that you liked, unfortunately. he was intriguing, he knew so much about you but you didn’t know anything about him.
he wasn’t in the frat, thank god. he was smart and had a large group of friends. you always caught them hanging out in the private study rooms in the library, the ones they always made sure to book. they all would stay there and hang out like obnoxious fools.
it was rare to see Leon smile and laugh, he looked like a completely different person. his eyes gleamed differently and he had a specific glow around him. maybe the reason you saw him so much in public or outside of his dorm was because you looked for him.
you looked for him and that glow.
“i’m not, the professor told me.” he watched as you continued to pack, were you really leaving? was he too harsh? sometimes he was only ‘mean’ to you to elicit a reaction from you. it was cute to watch your jaw drop and your fingers twitch as if you wanted to hit him.
sometimes, you played along, insulting him back. it was amusing to watch your spark glow into a flame. he hated tutoring but he didn’t hate you.
“of course, you practically suck that man's dick during office hours,” you said to yourself but loud enough to let him hear.
“that’s hilarious,” he said, rubbing at his nose bridge where his glasses sat.
“you didn’t deny it.” you huffed turning to leave until you were, very abruptly, yanked back. his hand had wrapped around your wrist, holding you back from leaving.
you turned back to him, his head was tilted to the side and he silently motioned with his eyes towards your seat.
“sit, we’re not done.”
his tone sent chills up your spine but you still refused, only if he didn’t look so damn good.
“yes, we are.”
you yanked your wrist away from him but much to your prevail, that only prompted him to stand up, grab you by your hips, and push your right back down into your seat.
“no. we are not.”
you sat still, bag in your lap, eyes wide and lips shut. did he just…man handle you back into your seat?
he sat back down in his seat after you, rolling his jaw with a sniff. “where were we?”
you remained silent and still, you knew if you got back up to leave he’d only pull you back down into your seat. though, you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it. the minute his large hands fell onto your hips there was a burn that ran through you, and it wasn’t rage.
“what is variance?” he asked turning towards you.
“standard deviation squared,” you replied, very straight and mellow-toned.
a smile grew onto his lips, the blues of his eyes gleaming and his pearly white teeth slowly revealing from underneath his pink plump lips. “good, you’re getting the hang of it.”
ever since then, Leon was very comfortable with touching you and kind of controlling you. tugging you by your wrists, guiding you with his hand on the small of your back, touching your legs, or shoving you to get your attention.
you were slowly losing it. you couldn’t even think straight, he was such a distraction. his voice, his hands, his scent, everything. the way he dressed was always so casual but he always looked so good, basic sweats with graphic tees or a sweater.
glasses, hair sometimes a little messy. you noticed when he was very focused his tongue would stick out from the corner of his mouth, it was cute, to say the least. he’d scrunch his nose to keep his glasses up on his eyes, he rolled his ankle instead of bouncing his leg, and when he laughed.
it was boisterous and full of light. you never thought that you could make him laugh, even if he wasn’t laughing with you rather he was laughing at you.
-
“are you serious? it’s like you don’t retain anything at all, how did you even get accepted?”
that one kind of hurt but you were too focused on the brightness in his cheeks and his perfectly straight teeth.
“well the acceptance rate is pretty high so…” you shrugged turning back towards your notebook.
you kept on denying the fact that you very much had a crush. is it wrong to find someone attractive? no, not at all. it’s a regular thing to find people attractive, doesn’t mean you have a crush on them. but this … is different.
a month and a half in you were beginning to realize you very much had a crush on Leon. you were beginning to get used to him and he was getting used to you.
you looked forward to tutor sessions now, practically dropping everything to go and see him. you began putting on extra perfume and wearing your hair down rather than keeping it up.
you kept your attire casual, you didn’t want him to think that you were dolling yourself up for him. so pajama pants or sweats were your usual go-to.
little did you know, Leon noticed everything. he was keen to snuff people out. he could smell you from a mile away, that heavy fragrance of yours was slowly seeping into his clothes and his brain. even after months, everything you touched was beginning to smell like you.
he noticed how your makeup slowly became heavier and your hair was all nicely done for him.
to be frank, he was flattered. he hoped you were getting all dolled up for him and not the guy who constantly blew up your phone. who is he? is he a boyfriend? a relative? a crush? a friend? who is he?
Leon wants to know, who do you see throughout the day? who are your friends? what do you like? do you like him? do you hate him? every time he sees your face he just wants to know, who are you?
Leon sat at his desk, waiting for you. his hands were folded up to his mouth and his leg was bouncing anxiously. you’ve never been late, well except for that first day but other than that you were always on time. always.
the pillow you occasionally sat in your lap during these sessions was now in his lap. it smelt just like you. at first, he wanted to snatch it away from you the moment you put the pillow into your lap, hugging it against you and spreading your germs onto it.
but then, it was nice. it was your signature pillow, you looked for it every time you came over and placed it directly in your lap. now, he finds himself carrying it around or having it next to him while he sleeps. is that weird?
well, it was his pillow in the first place. what’s so wrong about having it in his bed? it’s comforting.
his eyes quickly flicked over when his phone screen lit up, he looked over at it quickly reading the notification. you texted him.
was something wrong? are you sick? do you no longer need tutoring?
he quickly unlocked his phone and read the message, the pillow now bunched up underneath his nose as he slowly inhaled and exhaled your heavy scent.
‘hey, might be running a little late today :/. there’s a lot of traffic.’
traffic? where are you coming from?
‘k.’
he kept his reply short and nonchalant even though his curiosity was close to killing him. he knew the semester was close to ending, meaning he wasn’t going to see you afterward. it’s a big campus, so many buildings and so many students. he rarely sees you.
though, he catches a glimpse of you in the library, walking and talking with your friends. in the lunch hall, always getting the same drink from the vending machines and leaving in a hurry as you typed away at your phone.
you told him you had no boyfriend, but maybe you were lying to him. maybe it’s because he wasn’t a close friend of yours. that’s right, he’s just a tutor — not a friend or a love interest in your eyes.
he sat there longer than he anticipated, he didn’t realize how long he had been sitting until there was a knock on the door. he stood up, tossing the pillow in his lap aside onto his bed and rushing to the door. almost tripping over the clothes and mess that sat on his floor.
shit, he forgot to clean. he kicked the mess aside as he made his way to the door. kicking it under his bed mostly. he almost tripped on one of his shoes, letting out a small cuss before stumbling more towards the door.
the chaos behind the door caused you to furrow your brows.
“Leon? you good?”
“yeah! hold on!” he shouted out. you nodded slowly, itching at your ankle with the tip of your shoe.
Leon looked down at his attire, week-old sweats and a white sweatshirt with oil stains on it.
he turned away from the door quickly and silently ran back into his room, he needed clean clothes and he hadn’t done laundry all week. he didn’t have time, all because he was too busy thinking about you.
he quickly threw his sweatshirt off, taking the glasses off his head in the same swift movement. now he was just a mess, feeling around his bed for his glasses like Velma from Scooby Doo. all while his sweats were halfway on his legs.
“shit, shit,” he muttered to himself and he almost sighed with relief as he finally found his glasses and a clean, well decently clean, sweatshirt.
he rushed over to the door, sweat sticking to his hairline and very much out of breath. when he swung it open he was met by you looking down at your phone, texting someone once again. you looked up at him with a smile.
“what were you doing in there, huh? hiding a girl from me?” you taunted with a smile. he took notice of your outfit once you stuffed your phone away, a small wine-red top paired with some baggy jeans. you had a nice pendant necklace on, hanging right between the swell of your breasts, and cute little bracelets all up your wrists.
your makeup was done nicely, same with your hair. you were very very pretty today. you always were. but who did you look pretty for today?
“don’t be an idiot,” he scoffed, stepping sideways and letting you inside. you chuckled to yourself, finishing up your text to your friend before your phone was miraculously snatched from you.
“no phones tonight.” he snapped at you, taking a sneaky peek at your text convo. it wasn't a guy, it was a friend who was a girl. you two were speaking about a house party and tutoring. he lifted an eyebrow and looked down at you, he was completely ignoring your small grumbles of complaints.
“you were at a house party before this?”
“nosy much!” you snapped as he shut your phone off and stuffed it away into his pocket.
“answer the question,” he sighed like a disappointed parent.
“yes, i was and i ditched it to be here. with you.” you finalized.
he wasn’t gonna lie, the last part of your sentence sends electricity through his veins. you ditched fun to be here. not for tutoring. not for your grade. but to be here with him. he had no words, he was just frozen in place not sure of what to say or do.
“um, no phones today no distractions. midterm is coming up and i don’t want you to fail,” he said, clearing his throat. he shut the door softly and locked it. he turned to face you, taking off your shoes with a pout.
“aw, you care about my score?”
he rolled his eyes, shoving past you with another scoff. “yeah because your score reflects my tutoring.”
"and here i thought you hated tutoring,"
"i do, hurry up and get inside."
you smiled up at him, walking further into his room and instantly looking for your pillow. it wasn’t in its usual spot but you found it on top of his bed. his very tall bed. you jumped up, half of your body on the bed and your legs dangling off the floor.
you outstretched your arm for your his pillow. it was just at your fingertips but still out of reach. why did his bed have to be so big?
Leon watched you struggle for a bit, amused at how hard you were working just for a pillow. he also took this chance to admire how good you looked, almost perfect. bent over the edge of his bed, shirt riding up to reveal more of your back.
he couldn’t help but imagine you in this position but in different circumstances. his hands on your waist, bodies sticky and sweaty, hips rocking against one another.
he was quickly shaken out of his trance when you hit him in the face with the pillow.
“let’s get this over with, my friends are expecting me back in two hours.”
he cleared his throat and nodded with a small, “yeah.” his voice cracking in between.
it was hard to focus, he couldn’t stop looking your way. he couldn’t dismiss the burn that flew through him every time your knees touched his. he couldn’t form a sentence when your eyes would lock with his as you patiently waited for him to teach you something else.
almost like a dog waiting for a fucking treat.
the mascara on your lashes made your lashes pop more, shiny gloss on your lips, and the blush on your cheeks was nice and bright — but not too obnoxious. what was obnoxious though was your top, so dangerously low and that pendant hitting the fat of your breasts with every movement.
you were speaking to him but his eyes were focused on your pendant necklace. you took notice of it, stopping midsentence and looking down towards your necklace that he was so focused on.
“who’s the one distracted now?” you chuckled, taking out the pendant from your shirt and showing it to him.
“where’d you get it from? a boyfriend?” he asked out of nowhere. even his own words caught him off guard. he didn’t mean to ask that last part but it has been on his mind forever.
“Leon, how many times do i have to tell you?” you sighed out, leaning back into your chair and crossing your legs. “i don’t have a boyfriend.”
“then who is currently blowing up your phone?” he asked, motioning down to your phone constantly buzzing in his pocket.
“my friends,” you said with a shrug.
“i don’t believe it.”
“well, you should.”
“what could they possibly want to talk about?”
“you,” you said, looking from your phone lighting up in his pocket then back up at him.
you watched his eyebrow raise in confusion and he tilted his head to the side once again in disbelief. but you nodded slowly leaning towards him.
“they think you’re hot,”
“oh really?”
“yes, really.”
he scooted closer to you, both of his meaty thighs now trapping yours. his pupils dilated as he looked into your own. instantly, your palms began to sweat. you crossed your arms over your chest, subconsciously trying to shoo away the goosebumps rising onto your skin.
“what do you think then?” he asked, his voice low and his eyes flickering down to your lips and staring there.
“of?” you answered with another question.
“you think i’m hot?” he was inching closer closer, surely this was another way to tease and taunt you. even so, your heart was beating out of your chest and you were shrinking away from him.
“mmm not really, you’re kinda ugly.” you lied. that was the biggest lie you’ve ever said out loud. you haven’t even admitted your little crush to your friends. you were denying it to your core but right now with him so close like this, his breath fanning against yours and his hands placed on either side of your chair — you were ready to give up.
“liar.”
“not a li-“
before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours. soft plump and warm. wet from the amount of times he’s licked over them with a hint of mint from his gum. you kissed him back, leaning forward to press your lips against his even more.
your entire body lit up, you could feel your knees grow weak and the butterflies in your stomach felt more like a wildfire. with every smack of your lips, there was another spark and more of that fire spread.
his hands found your waist, tugging you up off your chair and towards him. you accepted his instruction quickly and obediently. he pulled you into his lap, hands moving from your waist and towards your hips.
his thumbs rubbed at your skin, calloused fingertips colliding with your soft skin. hot and gentle. you moaned onto his lips, tilting your head to the side and bringing your hands from his shoulders and towards the nape of his neck.
shivers ran through him at your touch, the cold sweat on your fingertips and your manicured nails scratching at his scalp.
he ran his hot tongue along your bottom lip and you welcomed him. tongues finding each other in a heated and passionate battle. you moaned at the minty taste on his tongue practically melting into him.
his hands found the small of your back, pressing you closer to him until you could practically feel his heart beating against yours.
he reached down into his pocket, bothered by your buzzing phone. he threw it to the side and onto his desk, he couldn't care less where it landed, he was more focused on you. your gloss stuck to his lips, it tasted fruity like cherries and he could taste the smallest twinge of rum on your tongue.
he pulled away, one hand grabbing the back of your neck to keep you in your place, “drinking and driving, huh?”
you rolled your eyes, rolling your hips down into his, “it was just one shot.”
you kissed him again, feverishly. you were hungry and desperate, you never wanted someone so bad. even if he made you feel like shit, pretty privilege at its finest. you didn’t care if he tugged and shoved you around like a damn rag doll, it was hot.
you didn’t care if he insulted you, part of you really fucking liked it.
he kept his lips on yours as he let his hand run down underneath the curve of your ass and the other guided your thigh around his waist. he stood up taking you with him, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms wrapped around his neck.
you held him close, both of you kissing at a slow and deep pace. in all truth, you didn’t think Leon was interested in you in the slightest but judging from the way his hands traveled all over your body you were very very wrong.
his hands reached up beneath your top, feeling for your bra clasp but he was surprised to find none. you smirked against his lips.
“no bra, fuck that’s hot.” he sighed against your lips, copying your smirk.
he threw you down against his bed, watching your hair splay out around your head like a halo. your lip gloss was ruined, smeared all over your mouth and your lips were now plump and glossy with his spit.
you looked up at him, the fire behind your eyes and adrenaline running through every vein in your body. you propped yourself up onto your elbows, slowly scooching away from him as he crawled towards you.
his hands on either side of your frame, icy blue eyes staring right into yours. his lips were now swollen and pink, some of your lipgloss smeared all over his mouth.
“where you going?” he taunted, a certain tone in his voice. his hands reached for the hem of his sweatshirt, quickly pulling it over his head and throwing it to the side along with the rest of his clothes. you scanned your eyes up and down his built figure, who knew he was so muscular.
underneath all those sweatshirts and loose tees was a greek god. chiseled muscle and wide shoulders, his arms were thick and looked as if they could kill. no wonder he could throw you around like you weighed nothing. he was built like a fucking tank.
your eyes trailed down to the happy trail, you witnessed now and then. sharp v-line, light brown hair with a single vein running down.
his hand wrapped around your ankle, tugging you down the bed until his face hovered over yours. “my eyes are here,” he told you before placing his lips on yours. your hands ran up his arms and up to his shoulders, you sunk your nails into his skin creating little pink crescents.
one of his hands kept him up while the other worked with the button of his jeans. the minute he got the metal button off, he was tugging them down your thighs and you helped by lifting your hips for him.
he kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, and then your jaw. his kisses were wet and slow, his fingers playing with the hem of your panties.
“god, you’re beautiful,” he whispered in your ear, kissing your lobe. your body shook with excitement every time he touched you, your body immediately responding to any of his calls. you were under his control and his command.
“i need you,” you whispered to him.
“shh shh, how about this?" he shushed, removing his glasses and then throwing them onto his desk.
he smirked at his own idea, loving the sound of what plan just popped up into his head.
" if you get these answers correct you’ll get what you want, ‘kay?”
you threw your head back against his pillow, whining his name. he swatted your ass as a warning as he traveled down your neck with opened-mouthed kisses, “i’ll stop.”
“no! okay, okay.” you exclaimed. he smiled against your collarbone, sinking his teeth into your skin as his hand traveled up the sheets to play with the hem of your top.
“give me five different ways to collect data,” his hand traveled underneath your shirt, his thumb finding your perky nipple and swiping over the bud slowly. you shivered at his warm touch, your brain melting and your mouth opening into a silent moaning.
“answer me, baby.”
“um surveys, experiments,” you began, trying to focus on his question rather than his touch. he pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers as his knee slotted between your legs and pressed against the gusset of your soaked panties.
he applied just the right amount of pressure and friction to your clothed cunt, earning him a small moan.
“an observational study,”
“good good,” he praised, lifting up your top and bunching it above your breasts. he watched them spill out and bounce, “so pretty, baby. give me two more.” he placed a soft kiss over your hard nipple and watched your body squirm for him.
“focus groups and- fuck and sampling,” you whined, arching your back towards him.
he grinned down at you, one hand cupping your left tit while the other stroked your cheek. “good job.”
he placed another hot kiss over your nipple, dragging his teeth ever so slowly over your hot skin.
this was killing him more than it was killing you. but he just loved teasing you, the excitement in your body, the hunger in your eyes, and the desperation in your voice. he loved having control over you.
“what’s the formula for a z-score?”
“Leon!”
he swatted your thigh as a warning, “say it.”
you pursed your lip, watching him place small kisses around your areola, purposefully avoiding your sensitive nipples.
“x minus x bar-“
“do it correctly,”
“sample size minus the mean, divided by the standard deviation!” you whined out.
he rewarded you by taking your nipple into his mouth, harshly sucking and dragging a long whine out of you.
you’ve never been so sensitive before but he was bringing everything out of you. your hips began to grind down against his knee, the smallest amount of pressure against your clit was all you needed. you were aching for him, clenching around absolutely nothing and dripping into the gusset of your panties.
his hand was splayed over your stomach, his thumb playing with the hem of your lace panties. his lips left your nipple with a pop and he looked up at you whilst biting down on his bottom lip.
“if the mean is more than the median,” he began kissing down the valley of your breasts. “how does the graph skew?”
you couldn’t focus, your brain was mush and you were very lightheaded. you couldn’t breathe and you were aching for him worse and worse every coming second. you tried to go over his question but every kiss he placed on your skin was a distraction.
“come on, baby you got it.” he said, now completely in between your legs. his hands were running up and down your thighs, keeping them at either side of his head. he placed a wet kiss on your inner thigh, sucking and then dragging his teeth over the small hickey.
your hips bucked up and your legs began to shake, “Leon, i don’t know.”
“i know you do, baby. come on,” he hummed against the skin of your thigh. the smell of your pussy was making him dizzy, it was right in front of him and god he needed it so bad. he could see how wet you were, just for him.
he wanted to rip these pretty lacy panties right off of you and devour your pussy whole, but he wanted to wait. he wanted to wait until you were at your limit, he wanted to watch your eyes roll back when you finally got what you both wanted.
“um, it skews right!”
he smiled against your inner thigh, placing a kiss on your abdomen and then moving your panties to the side. his cock jumped at the sight of your cunt right in front of his eyes, dripping wet and quivering just for him.
“answer this next question right and i’ll let you cum, ‘kay?” he said placing a kiss over your swollen clit.
“fuck!” you moaned out, hands reaching for his blonde strands.
“what is the empirical rule? and what does every single one of them mean?” he asked, prodding his tongue at your hole. his breath was hot against your clit, your whole body was shaking to the point you couldn’t take it.
“Leon, i-“ you stammered out with a tear running down your temple and into your hair.
“come on, we just went over this yesterday.”
“i can’t,”
he gathered a glob of spit onto his tongue before spatting it against your pussy, watching it drip from the hood of your clit and over your fluttering hole. “yes, you can.” he egged on.
“it’s mmm,” you pursed your lips and squinted your eyes close, you just needed to think and avert your attention away from him. ���68% falls um one standard deviation of the mean,” your statement was more like a question.
he confirmed your answer by flattening his tongue over your slit and languidly licking upwards. he moaned at your taste, practically drunk on your pussy already. he shut his lids and let his eyes roll to the back of his head.
“95% is two and 99.7% is three!” your voice raised a few octaves as the languid strokes of his tongue became faster.
he was done testing you, for now. right now, he’s focused on making you cum all over his face. his arms wrapped around each of your thighs, holding you close to his mouth as he got to work. his thumb went to find your clit, rubbing small slow circles around your swollen nub.
“oh god,” you sighed out. his tongue prodded at your dripping cunt, messily lapping up at your juices mixed with his saliva. you arched your back, your fingers digging into his scalp both pushing him away and pulling him closer.
he applied more pressure to your clit, his tongue plunging in and out of your hole shamelessly. wet and sloppy sounds filled the room along with the sound of your messy moans and chants of his name.
“fuck, so good.” he moaned to himself, completely focused on your pleasure even if his hips were grinding into his sheets. he could cum just like this, to the sounds of your moans and the taste of your cunt.
he couldn’t wait to fuck you, to feel the warmth of your walls suck him in, and the sound of your moans directly in his ear. but he needed to be patient, he needed to reward you for doing so good in class.
he picked up his pace, taking turns fucking his tongue into you feverishly and sucking on your clit. your legs shook around him, thighs clamping around him and keeping him locked in place.
“yes, Leon! i’m close,” you moaned out, drool gathering at the corner of your lips and more tears spilling from your eyes. he kept his pace, not moving faster or slower but he just applied the smallest pressure against your clit that sent you over the edge.
you cried out, arching your back and curling his sheets into your fist. with your release, stars danced behind your vision and every muscle in your body contracted and then relaxed. he eased you down from your high, sucking at your clit lightly and drawing circles over the bone of your hip.
he looked up at you, lips swollen and slick with your release. he placed a kiss on your abdomen with a grin plastered across his cheeks.
his blonde hair stuck to his forehead sweaty and hair disheveled all because of you.
“you did so good,”
your whole body was worn out, your eyes shut ready to pass out but he wasn’t done. he tugged your panties down your legs, keeping them scrunched in his fist.
“i’m not done testing you baby,” he said placing a kiss on your cheek.
“Leon, please,”
he ignored your pleading working himself out of his sweats. you caught a peep of a dark grey splotch in his sweats, either from when he had his knee placed against your heat or his dripping tip.
“get this question right and i’ll fuck you, got it?”
you nodded excitedly, biting down on your bottom lip. you watched his cock spring out and god was he pretty. tip swollen and red, veins running up his girth, thick and long. god, of course, he was big.
“words, baby. i need words.”
“yes, yes, okay!” you snapped at him, very obviously sexually frustrated. he didn’t like your tone so he slapped your clit with the tip of his cock, sending a shock wave through you.
“watch your tone, i don’t have to fuck you, i don’t have to give you a second orgasm,” he grabbed your chin harshly and tugged your head up to face him, “understand?”
“yes,” you croaked out.
he placed a kiss on your lips, letting you get a taste of your juices still on his tongue.
he ran the tip of his cock through your folds, his shoulders tensing up and his hand twisting in his own sheets. it was taking everything in him to be patient.
“how do you find the three quartiles?” he asked, pressing his tip against your fluttering cunt. you opened your mouth to answer but nothing came out but a weak moan. he watched you closely, not breaking any eye contact.
his pupils were blown out, only leaving a halo of his blue irises.
“please,” you croaked out.
“come on baby, you got this.”
you gulped down a lump, getting rid of the dryness in your throat. “the first quartile is the 25th percentile,” you answered weakly.
he pressed his tip into your dripping cunt, hissing at how your pussy was practically ready to suck him in. your breath hitched at the stretch and a tear ran down your temple, he kissed it away, leaning his forehead against yours.
“keep going baby, you got this.”
“the second is the- the median. 50th percentile, the third quartile minus the first,” you rambled, looking up into his eyes as he nodded his head.
“good, good,” he moaned out, giving you just a few more inches of his cock.
“the third one is 75th percentile,”
with your final and last answer, he thrust his cock all the way in, until his tip was kissing your cervix. you sucked in a shaky breath, your thighs shaking as you adjusted to his size. he kept his tip pressed against your cervix, stroking your thigh with his large hand.
“s- so big, fuck,” you whined out, walls fluttering around his girth.
“shh shh, take it. take it.” he whispered close to your lips.
“lower fence versus upper fence, quickly.” he was struggling to stay still, he was torturing both you and himself. you choked back a sob. you could feel his cock pulsing inside of you and god you couldn’t even think.
“lo- lower fence is the first quartile, mmm,” you moaned out.
“come on,”
“first quartile minus one point five times the IQR,”
he sighed out against his lips, grinding his hips into yours earning him a whiny moan from your quivering lips. “one more baby,”
“upper fence is, shit, it’s the third quartile plus one point five times the IQR.”
he was done.
he pulled out and then thrusted straight back in, your whole body convulsed. every tense muscle in your body relaxing the moment he thrusted his cock back into you. he cupped your cheek, bringing your lips to his. he kissed you hungrily, invading your mouth with his tongue, moaning at the taste of you.
his hips continued to snap into yours, bullying his cock into you with no remorse. each thrust of his cock stroked at your g-spot and your body would jolt from the force.
“been waiting to do this forever,” he spoke into your mouth. “fuck, you’re so beautiful,”
you moaned out his name, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him closer to you. his hands reached back towards your top, tugging it over his head and throwing it off the side.
he was quick to cup your breast, slotting your nipple between your two fingers and then slamming his lips against yours. you scratched down his back helplessly, the fresh polish on your nails chipping and blood seeping through the cuts you were giving him.
you couldn’t focus on anything else but him, not only did you really like him but he was also fucking you so good. his pace was perfect, his touch was intoxicating and his lips were hot.
there was a ring of white forming around the base of his cock, lewd noises spilled from both of your lips as you both found yourselves inching closer and closer to your highs.
your kiss grew sloppy and his pace quickened, “this pussy ’s so good, fuck,” he groaned out, moving the hand from your breast towards your clit.
your whole body shook once his two fingers began to draw figure eights around your clit. the slow pace of his fingers contrasting with the fast pace of his thrusts.
“god, look at you,” he breathed out, “all fucked out on your tutor's cock, huh?”
you couldn’t reply, only croaking out a moan of his name.
“fucking whore, came here for math help now look at you,”
his words only added to the tension in your abdomen, the burn in your stomach getting hotter and hotter.
“i’m gonna cum,”
“go ‘head baby, cum all over my cock,” he said, placing a kiss on the corner of your lips.
you whined out, chasing his lips for another kiss but he denied you with a shake of his head.
“i wanna hear you,”
you looked into his eyes, seeing a reflection of yourself in his glossy eyes. mascara smudges, lipgloss gone, hair a mess. all because of him.
“fuck!” you moaned out, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your head back. he was quick to guide your head to face him, he kept his eyes locked on yours watching your pupils dilate as you came undone.
your walls fluttered around his cock, clenching down as your orgasm hit you like a heavy wave. he pulled out quickly, finishing himself off with heavy and breathy moans.
you watched as he came. thick, white ropes of cum decorating your stomach and abdomen. his abs tensed up with each spurt of cum and his hips still bucked up.
he let out a final breath into the crook of your neck. both of your bodies shook against each other, hot, sticky with sweat and cum.
he leaned up out of the crook of your neck looking into your eyes and you watched as they gleamed, such a rare light in his eyes but you were glad you were able to see it.
he pressed his lips to yours, this time it was slow and deep. there wasn’t any hunger or lust, just pure passion.
“i’m sure you won’t fail that test,”
(divider creds to @saradika ,, photos off of pinterest & photo of leon from @/laughingwallaby on twitter)
notes: if you wanna be on my tag list pls message me hehe! or fill out the form below (just to make it easier on me :D)
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cognitive dissonance pt 1 - spencer reid
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ part two
who? tutor!spencer reid x student fem!reader
category: fluff, smut
content warnings: NSFW MDNI!! dry humping, fingering
word count: 5k
a/n: scheduled post as i am away at a new years music festival with my friends :] i will be back with you all in a few days <3
The first time you saw Spencer Reid was during a lecture hall mix-up in your second week at the university. You had rushed in, clutching your notebook and hoping to secure a spot before the professor started, only to find yourself in a room filled with students much older than you. At the center of it all, there he was—leaning casually against the podium, flipping through a worn-out book with an intensity that made the rest of the world blur around him.
He wasn’t the professor, but he might as well have been. His sharp, confident voice cut through the murmurs as he corrected an older man’s calculation on the whiteboard with such precision that the room seemed to collectively hold its breath. You’d learned his name that day from the whispers: Spencer Reid. The prodigy. The genius with more degrees than anyone knew what to do with.
From then on, he became a background character in your university life—a distant figure who seemed too brilliant, too out of reach, to exist in the same world as you. You heard the rumors, the awe-filled anecdotes: he’d started college as a child prodigy, aced every test like it was nothing, and was now juggling multiple Ph.D. programs.
Your own academic pursuits felt mundane in comparison. Sure, you worked hard, but you struggled. Like now, for instance, staring at the red marks slashing through your latest assignment—a problem set for your advanced statistics class.
“You’ve got potential, but you’re missing the fundamentals,” your professor said when you approached him after class, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “I’m assigning you a tutor.”
“A tutor?” you echoed, your stomach dropping. Group study sessions were bad enough; working one-on-one with someone felt like an invitation for them to witness your shortcomings up close.
“Don’t worry,” he said with a knowing smile. “You’ll be in good hands. I’ve paired you with one of the best.”
You didn’t know what to expect as you walked into the library that afternoon, clutching your notes so tightly your knuckles turned white. The email from your professor had given you nothing but a time and a name: Spencer Reid.
Your heart raced as you reached the designated table tucked into a quiet corner of the library. There he was, surrounded by open books and a tower of index cards, his familiar mop of brown hair falling into his eyes as he scribbled something into a notebook. He looked up when you approached, his hazel eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you freeze in place.
“You’re here for tutoring?” he asked, his voice softer than you expected, though no less confident.
You nodded quickly, struggling to find your words. “Y-yeah, I’m… I’m Y/N. My professor said you’d be helping me with stats?”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he gestured for you to sit. “Let’s get started, then.”
As you settled into the chair across from him, you couldn’t help but feel like you were stepping into another universe—one where Spencer Reid wasn’t just the untouchable genius you’d admired from afar but someone real, someone tangible, someone who, for the first time, was looking directly at you.
You weren’t sure what you expected Spencer Reid’s tutoring style to be, but it certainly wasn’t this. You’d assumed he might be aloof, perhaps brisk, throwing around jargon you’d struggle to keep up with. Instead, he was patient—meticulously breaking down concepts into manageable pieces while his pen skated effortlessly across his notebook.
Not that you could focus on much of it.
His presence was… distracting. The way his long fingers tapped thoughtfully against the edge of the table, the faint crease between his brows when he explained something particularly tricky, the way his lips pursed as he considered your answer before gently redirecting you to the correct one. All of it sent your mind spiraling into a whirlwind of thoughts that had nothing to do with statistics.
“Does that make sense?” Spencer asked, tilting his head as his hazel eyes searched yours.
You blinked, realizing too late that you hadn’t heard a single word of his explanation. Heat rushed to your face as you fumbled for a response. “Um, yeah! Totally. Makes sense.”
He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was fighting back a smile. “Really? Then can you explain why we divide by the square root of the sample size in this calculation?”
Panic flared in your chest. “Oh, uh… because it… balances the equation?” you ventured weakly.
Spencer set his pen down, leaning back slightly as he studied you. There was something disarming about the way he looked at you, like he could see straight through the flustered exterior you were so desperately trying to hold together. And, knowing Spencer Reid, he probably could.
“You’re nervous,” he said, not unkindly, but with the clinical precision of someone stating a fact.
Your breath hitched. “What? No, I’m fine!” you lied, your voice raising an octave.
He tilted his head, his gaze softening. “It’s okay,” he said gently. “A lot of people feel overwhelmed during one-on-one tutoring. It’s a different kind of pressure.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but the sincerity in his tone stopped you. He wasn’t mocking you or trying to make you feel small. If anything, he seemed… concerned.
“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable,” he continued, his voice almost soothing now. “Because if you’re too focused on feeling self-conscious, it’s going to be harder for you to process the material.”
You nodded, unable to find your voice. Spencer smiled—a small, reassuring curve of his lips—and slid his notebook closer to you.
“Let’s try this,” he said, switching tactics. “Instead of diving into the calculations right away, let’s talk about what you’re struggling with conceptually. No pressure, no judgment. Just a conversation.”
That did help, marginally. His calm demeanor and methodical approach were like a balm to your frazzled nerves. But every now and then, he’d catch you staring at him for a beat too long, your mind wandering to thoughts that had nothing to do with statistics. Each time, his gaze would flicker with amusement, like he knew exactly what was going through your head but was too polite to say anything.
By the time the session ended, your brain felt like it had been wrung out like a sponge—not just from the math but from the sheer effort of keeping yourself together in his presence. As you packed up your things, Spencer handed you a few pages of handwritten notes.
“These should help,” he said, his voice still as calm and steady as ever. “And if you have questions before our next session, feel free to email me.”
You nodded, clutching the notes like a lifeline. “Thanks. I’ll, um… I’ll do that.”
As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you, warm and curious. And though you were mortified at how obvious your flustered state had been, a tiny part of you couldn’t help but hope he didn’t mind.
You were determined to be better this time. You’d spent hours poring over the notes Spencer had given you, even rewatching a few recorded lectures for good measure. If you couldn’t control the embarrassing way your brain short-circuited around him, the least you could do was come prepared.
But as you approached the table in the library’s corner and saw him already seated, legs crossed, pen twirling lazily between his fingers, you realized preparation could only take you so far. He looked up as you neared, his hazel eyes lighting up briefly in acknowledgment.
“Hi,” you managed, your voice sounding far too breathy for your liking.
“Hi,” he replied, a slight smile playing on his lips as he motioned for you to sit. “Ready to dive in?”
You nodded quickly, lowering yourself into the chair and flipping open your notebook. Spencer wasted no time launching into a review of last session’s material, but as he began sketching out a new problem, you felt your focus slipping again.
It wasn’t your fault, really. Who could concentrate with him looking like that? His hair was slightly messier than last time, a few stray curls brushing against his forehead. He chewed absentmindedly on the cap of his pen as he thought, the motion inexplicably captivating. And when he leaned forward to jot down a formula, the faint scent of his cologne hit you, warm and woodsy, leaving your thoughts spiraling once more.
“Did you catch that?” Spencer’s voice cut through your haze. You blinked, realizing you’d been staring—again.
“S-sorry. What?” you stammered, gripping your pen like it might anchor you to reality.
His lips quirked up, amusement flickering in his eyes. “I was asking if you understood why we’re using a t-distribution here instead of a z-distribution.”
“Oh! Uh… yes?” you said uncertainly.
Spencer chuckled, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. “You’re lying.”
Your stomach dropped, and you immediately ducked your head, cheeks flaming. “I’m not lying,” you mumbled.
“You are,” he said, and though his tone was light, there was an unmistakable confidence in his words. “Your body language gave it away. You looked down and shifted in your chair when you answered, which is a pretty common tell.”
You groaned softly, mortified. “Okay, fine. I don’t know why we’re using it.”
“See? That’s progress.” He grinned, and you could swear there was a hint of mischief in his expression. “But I can’t help noticing that your attention seems… elsewhere.”
Your head snapped up at that, your wide eyes meeting his. “What? No! I’m paying attention.”
Spencer tilted his head, his smile widening slightly. “Really? Then why do you keep staring at me?”
Your heart practically stopped. “I’m not—I wasn’t—I mean—” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a flustered mess, and his grin only grew more pronounced.
“It’s fine,” he said smoothly, cutting off your babbling. “I just couldn’t help but notice. You’ve been doing it since last session.”
Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “I wasn’t staring,” you lied weakly.
His gaze held yours, unwavering and far too knowing. “You were,” he countered, his voice low and teasing now. “But I’m curious—why?”
“I wasn’t—” You stopped yourself, realizing you were only digging the hole deeper. “I’m just… thinking.”
“Thinking?” His eyebrows lifted slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “About the statistics, or something else?”
You wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole. “The statistics,” you said firmly, though your voice wavered.
Spencer let out a soft chuckle, the sound warm and almost smug. “If you say so.”
He leaned forward again, his elbows resting on the table, and you felt the air shift between you. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his tone softer now, “it’s not a bad thing. People observe things they find interesting.”
The words hung in the air, and you swore your pulse echoed in your ears. You couldn’t tell if he was being matter-of-fact or if there was a deeper implication in his statement, but the knowing glint in his eyes kept you from relaxing.
“Let’s try again,” he said after a beat, tapping his pen against the notebook and effortlessly shifting the conversation back to math. But the playful smirk that lingered on his face for the rest of the session made it clear: he wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily.
When you arrived at your usual table in the library, Spencer was already there, meticulously arranging his materials. His long fingers smoothed out the corner of a page in his notebook, and he glanced up as you approached, offering a small smile that made your stomach flutter despite your best efforts to stay composed.
“Hi,” you greeted softly, sliding into your seat.
“Hi,” he replied, his voice warm and low. “Ready to tackle some more statistics?”
You nodded, pulling out your notebook and pen. He scooted his chair slightly closer—not enough to be obvious, but enough that you could feel the faintest brush of his knee against yours under the table. You froze for a moment, unsure if it was intentional, but Spencer didn’t react.
“Okay,” he began, leaning toward you to sketch out a problem. As he wrote, his shoulder nudged yours lightly. The contact was brief, but it left your skin tingling.
“Let’s start with this,” he said, his pen gliding smoothly across the page. “We’re calculating confidence intervals today. Do you remember the formula from last time?”
You stared at the problem, willing yourself to focus, but the warmth of his proximity made it difficult. “Uh… I think so?”
“Let me jog your memory,” he said. His hand moved toward your notebook, his fingers brushing against yours as he adjusted it to face him. The touch was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you.
“Sorry,” he said casually, his eyes flicking to yours for a moment. “Didn’t mean to invade your space.”
“No, it’s fine,” you replied quickly, your voice higher than usual. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that the contact had been accidental. But then he leaned even closer, his arm grazing yours as he explained the formula.
“See how the standard error fits into this part?” he asked, his voice calm and steady.
You nodded, though you weren’t sure what you were agreeing to. It was impossible to concentrate with the way his sleeve brushed against yours, the subtle movement sending a ripple of awareness through you.
“Let’s work through this part together,” Spencer continued, his tone patient. He slid his hand over the notebook, his fingers brushing against yours again as he pointed to a specific number. The touch lingered just a fraction longer than necessary, but his expression remained neutral, as though he hadn’t noticed.
You couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or if you were imagining things. Either way, the warmth radiating from him was making your thoughts hazy.
“You okay?” he asked suddenly, his head tilting slightly as he looked at you.
“Yeah! Totally fine,” you said quickly, though your face felt like it was on fire.
He smiled, his expression soft but unreadable. “Good. Let me know if I’m going too fast.”
You nodded, gripping your pen tightly to ground yourself. But Spencer didn’t make it easy. Every time he reached for the notebook or gestured toward your notes, his hand would brush against yours. Once, he leaned forward to grab a pen, his shoulder pressing lightly into yours for a moment that felt both casual and deliberate.
By the time the session was over, your nerves were shot. Spencer handed you a fresh set of notes, his fingers grazing yours yet again as he passed them over.
“These should help,” he said, his voice soft and steady. “You’re doing better than you think, by the way.”
“Thanks,” you murmured, clutching the notes to your chest.
“Same time next week?” he asked, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than usual.
You nodded, too flustered to say much else. As you walked away, you replayed the session in your mind, questioning every subtle touch, every quiet moment of proximity. Was it intentional, or were you imagining things?
The worst part was that you couldn’t tell—and that you didn’t really mind either way.
You weren’t sure why you’d agreed to have Spencer tutor you at your place. The library felt safer somehow, more neutral. But when he’d suggested it—citing the possibility of fewer distractions—you’d found yourself nodding without a second thought.
Now, as you sat across from him at your small dining table, you were second-guessing every decision that had led to this moment.
“Nice place,” Spencer said as he set his bag down and took in the cozy, slightly cluttered room. His eyes lingered on a stack of books by the couch. “Suits you.”
“Thanks,” you replied, fidgeting with your pen. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting company, so it’s kind of messy.”
He gave you a small smile, his gaze warm and easy. “It’s fine. Ready to get started?”
You nodded, grateful for the excuse to focus on something—anything—other than the fact that Spencer Reid, in all his impossibly distracting glory, was sitting in your home.
For the first few minutes, you managed to keep things professional. Spencer explained a complex concept with his usual precision, and you actually managed to follow along. But then he leaned closer, pointing out a detail in your notes, and you felt that now-familiar flutter in your chest.
“You’ve got the right idea,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You just need to be more precise here.”
He tapped the edge of the page, his hand brushing yours in the process. The contact was brief but enough to make your breath hitch.
“You okay?” he asked, glancing up at you with those impossibly perceptive eyes.
“Yeah, fine,” you said quickly, though your voice betrayed you.
Spencer’s lips quirked, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours under the table. It felt so casual, so natural, that you couldn’t decide if it was intentional.
For a while, he kept his focus on the notes, but his proximity seemed to grow with each passing moment. The air between you felt charged, like static electricity, and you could feel your resolve slipping.
“So,” Spencer said suddenly, leaning back in his chair and studying you with an intensity that made your pulse race, “how are you finding these sessions so far?”
“They’re good,” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze. “Really helpful.”
“Helpful,” he repeated, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place. “You sure about that?”
“Of course,” you replied, glancing up at him.
His eyes locked onto yours, and the weight of his gaze was almost too much to bear. “You seem… distracted sometimes.”
“I’m not distracted,” you said defensively, though the heat rising to your cheeks said otherwise.
Spencer leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His voice dropped slightly, the teasing edge unmistakable. “Are you sure? Because I get the feeling you’ve been paying more attention to me than the math.”
Your stomach flipped, and you looked down, trying to steady your breathing. “That’s not true,” you muttered.
“Isn’t it?” he asked, his tone soft but insistent.
Before you could respond, he reached out, his fingers grazing yours as he took the pen from your hand. The movement was slow, deliberate, and it left your skin buzzing.
“Relax,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just helping.”
You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. He leaned closer, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.
“Spencer…” you began, your voice shaky.
“Yes?” he murmured, his gaze flicking to your lips for the briefest of moments.
You couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The tension between you was palpable, and for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you.
Spencer’s hand moved slightly, his fingers brushing against yours again. This time, the touch lingered, deliberate and unmistakable. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” he said softly, his voice low and steady.
You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you found yourself leaning ever so slightly toward him, your body betraying you before your mind could catch up.
That was all the confirmation he needed.
With a slow, careful movement, Spencer closed the distance between you, his hand resting lightly on yours as he tilted his head. The kiss, when it came, was soft and tentative, like he was giving you every opportunity to pull away.
But you didn’t.
Instead, you leaned into him, your heart pounding as you let yourself get lost in the moment. When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of curiosity and something deeper.
“Still distracted?” he asked, a small, teasing smile tugging at his lips.
Your heart thundered in your chest as his words hung in the air. You couldn’t decide if the heat coursing through you was from the kiss or the way he was looking at you—like you were the most fascinating puzzle he’d ever encountered.
“Very,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
His smile widened slightly, but it wasn’t the smug grin you expected. It was softer, almost tender, though his eyes still carried that flicker of mischief.
“Maybe we should take a break,” he murmured, his voice lower now, almost inviting.
You nodded, your breath catching as he stood and motioned toward the couch in the living room. You followed him, your nerves on edge but your body moving of its own accord.
The moment you sat down, the tension between you snapped like a rubber band. Spencer hesitated for a fraction of a second, as though giving you one last chance to stop him, before leaning in again.
This time, there was nothing tentative about it. His lips met yours with more certainty, his hand sliding up to cup your jaw as he deepened the kiss. You melted into him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as the kiss grew more fervent.
Spencer shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours as his free hand settled on your waist. The pressure was light, grounding, but it sent a shiver down your spine all the same. His thumb traced a small, absent-minded circle against your side, and the simple motion made your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.
You tilted your head slightly, allowing him to angle the kiss more deeply. He responded immediately, his fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you closer. The world outside your apartment ceased to exist, leaving only the heat of his body and the intoxicating pull of his lips against yours.
When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Spencer’s forehead rested lightly against yours, and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath.
“I think,” he said after a moment, his voice rougher than usual, “we’ve officially crossed into not studying territory.”
You laughed softly, your hands still clutching the front of his shirt. “You think?”
He chuckled, the sound low and warm, before leaning back just enough to meet your gaze. His fingers lingered on your waist, and the way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat.
“You’re full of surprises, you know,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek.
“Me?” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who—”
Before you could finish, he kissed you again, effectively silencing any protest. This time, it was slower, more deliberate, like he was savoring every second. You sighed against his lips, your hands sliding up to his shoulders as you gave in to the moment.
Spencer’s hands, steady but careful, slid down from your waist to rest on your hips. He shifted closer, and you felt the subtle press of his body against yours, his touch firm but never overwhelming. When his knee nudged between your legs, your breath hitched, the pressure sparking a warmth that spread through you like wildfire.
You froze for half a second, unsure if the movement had been intentional, but Spencer didn’t pull back. Instead, his lips moved against yours with more intent, and his hands tightened ever so slightly on your hips, guiding you just enough for the tension between you to crackle and deepen.
“Is this okay?” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver down your spine.
“Yes,” you whispered, your hands gripping his shoulders more tightly as you let yourself lean into him.
Encouraged by your response, Spencer deepened the kiss, his knee pressing more firmly between your thighs. The sensation was maddeningly slow, his movements deliberate and measured as though he was testing every reaction. You gasped softly, and he swallowed the sound with a small, satisfied hum.
His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing against your ribs just beneath the hem of your shirt. The touch was gentle, but the heat of his palms against your skin left you trembling.
He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “I’m going to ask you a question from one of our sessions. If you get it right, I’ll keep going. If you don’t…” His hands stilled against your skin, and he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his smirk growing. “Well, I’ll have to stop.”
Your mouth went dry. Was he serious? The challenge in his eyes told you he absolutely was.
“Spencer…” you started, your voice shaky with anticipation and a tinge of frustration.
“Hm?” he prompted, his hands sliding down slightly but remaining just beneath your shirt, a silent reminder of what was at stake. “What’s the formula for calculating a confidence interval?”
You stared at him, your mind scrambling to recall the formula you’d seen so many times in your notes. But all you could focus on was the way his fingers were still, waiting, as though they held the key to your ability to think.
“Um,” you began, your voice faltering. “It’s, uh, the mean… plus or minus… the critical value?”
Spencer’s smirk widened, his head tilting slightly as though he was considering your answer. “Close,” he said, his hands retreating slightly. “But not quite. Want to try again?”
“No, wait!” you exclaimed, your cheeks flushing as you tried to focus. “The mean plus or minus the critical value times the standard error?”
He hummed softly, his fingers resuming their slow circles. “There it is,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “See? You can focus when you want to.”
Your heart pounded as his hands slid higher, his thumbs brushing dangerously close to the underside of your bra. The sensation was enough to make your breath hitch, but you barely had time to react before he spoke again.
“Next question,” he said, his tone taking on a slightly firmer edge. “What’s the first step in solving a regression problem?”
Your brain felt like it had been set on fire. How were you supposed to remember academic concepts when his hands were touching you like this?
“I—I think…” you stammered, biting your lip as you tried to focus. “The first step is… identifying the variables?”
Spencer’s brow lifted, his expression a mix of amusement and approval. “Good,” he said, his hands sliding back down to your waist. “But don’t forget to check your assumptions first. Details matter.”
You let out a soft whine of frustration, but the sound turned into a gasp as his knee pressed gently between your legs again, reigniting the fire building in your core.
“You’re doing well,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your jaw as he spoke. “But I think you can do better.”
The challenge in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your resolve crumbling under the weight of his attention.
“What’s the difference between Type I and Type II errors?” he asked, his tone almost clinical despite the heat radiating from him.
“Type I is… rejecting a true null hypothesis,” you managed, your voice shaky. “And Type II is failing to reject a false one.”
Spencer grinned, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth. “Excellent,” he said softly. “You’re such a quick learner when you try.”
The praise made your heart race, warmth blooming in your chest as his words sank in. You barely had a chance to respond before his hand slid lower, resting on the bare skin just above the waistband of your pants.
“You deserve a reward,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine.
“A reward?” you managed, your voice breathless and unsteady.
He chuckled softly, his lips moving to your neck, pressing a series of slow, deliberate kisses along the sensitive skin. “For all your hard work,” he murmured against your skin, his fingers toying with the elastic of your waistband. “Don’t you think you’ve earned it?”
Your only response was a soft, shaky nod, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as though it was the only thing keeping you grounded.
“Good girl,” he said, the words barely above a whisper, but they sent a jolt through your entire body.
His hand slipped beneath the fabric of your pants, his touch deliberate and teasing as he traced the edge of your panties. He paused for a moment, his lips ghosting over your ear as he murmured, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
“I don’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling but filled with certainty.
That was all the permission he needed. His hand slipped lower, his fingers sliding beneath the fabric of your panties to find your most sensitive spot. The first touch was light, almost experimental, but it was enough to make you gasp softly, your body arching into him.
“That’s it,” Spencer murmured, his voice filled with quiet satisfaction. “You’re doing so well.”
His fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, the pressure just enough to leave you trembling in his grasp. His other hand slid up to cup your jaw, tilting your head slightly so he could capture your lips in another searing kiss.
The contrast between his steady, controlled movements and the growing intensity of his kisses was intoxicating, leaving you completely at his mercy. He broke the kiss just long enough to study your face, his eyes dark with desire but filled with a surprising tenderness.
“Look at you,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You’re so beautiful like this.”
The praise made your cheeks flush, but before you could respond, his fingers pressed more firmly against you, drawing a soft whimper from your lips.
“That’s my good girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a featherlight kiss. “So responsive. So perfect.”
His words and touch combined left you completely undone, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. All you could do was cling to him, your hands gripping his shoulders as he continued his slow, deliberate exploration.
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
taglist: @opheliahotchner
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid#criminal minds x reader#bau x reader#missarchive
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Taunt
obviously, i feel very normal and chill about ewan's new performance in saltburn. anyways lmao this is my version of michael gavey from the vibes i got from him in the 5 seconds he's in the trailer! i have no idea if this is accurate to how he is truly portrayed in the movie! if the movie comes out and i'm totally wrong, then i don't care bc i got to have fun writing about a cheeky lil oxford student!!
summary: you're nearly failing statistics and the student your professor asks to tutor you seems to gain a sick satisfaction from seeing you squirm; he hates you...or so think.
pairing: michael gavey x reader
warnings: mature, 18+ (minors, do not enter!!!) no use of Y/N, afab reader, profanity, smut, piv smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dom/sub, brief daddy kink (literally one mention), dirty talk, dumbification, humiliation (only a bit), size kink if you squint, mild angst but happy ending, choking i guess (barely), public sex (they're alone but like it's still public lmao), brief discussions of math -- please let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 10.5k (dear lord)
a/n: baby's first fic omg! if you enjoy this one and want to see more from me, please feel free to send in requests! (GoT, HoTD, Stranger Things, Marvel, etc!)
PRAISE | Taunt Part 2
MAKING AMENDS | Bonus
likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!
🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!🌟
“Right, so,” Professor Davies began, pulling a thick textbook off the shelf next to his desk, “Since we’ve only just returned from Easter holiday, I thought I’d go easy on you today.”
A few quiet groans could be heard around the room, a couple students turning to look at one another with grimaces; in the few weeks you’ve been in Professor Davies’s class, he’s never once gone easy on you. With a small sigh, you shuffle through your spiral notebook until you come to a blank page.
“D’you think you’ll go to the party this weekend?” Louise whispers, leaning over closer to you as she twirls a pen around in her fingers, “I heard this one is supposed to be fucking insane.”
“Like any of Felix’s parties aren’t insane?” You whisper back, smirking as you doodle a small flower on the corner of a page of paper, “Of course I’ll be there,” you murmur, watching as Professor Davies writes an intricate formula on the chalkboard, “I could really use a break, anyway…I’ve been so stressed recently.”
“Christ…” A boy, in the row of desks in front of you scoffs, just barely shaking his head as he copies down the formula, his handwriting sharp and choppy. You feel blood rush to your cheeks as you narrow your eyes, staring intently at his sandy hair. You didn’t really know him, this being your only class with him, but you’d seen him around campus, regularly passing by him in the halls. Oxford may be a large university, but when you’re on campus everyday, you begin recognizing familiar faces.
He didn’t run in the same crowds as you at all, and you got the distinct impression that he looked down on you and the rest of your friends, but you knew his name – Michael and that he was incredibly smart, his hand promptly shooting into the air anytime Professor Davies asked a question. In the few weeks you’d been in the same statistics class, you had yet to see him get a question wrong, watching as he grinned, cocky, everytime he was praised for correctly solving even the most intricate of formulas.
You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more the opposite, always shying away and praying not to hear Professor Davies call your name in his deep, baritone voice every time his eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a volunteer, or victim, more like. While Michael clearly enjoyed the class, practically glowing with an arrogant confidence as soon as he walked into the wood paneled lecture hall, you were simply here to check it off as a requirement of your major, hoping to survive the class with a C and nothing more.
It was annoying, you wouldn’t deny that, the way that smug smirk seemed to be permanently etched onto his face, how that stupid taunting glimmer was an ever-present fixture of his blue eyes — blue eyes which, seemingly, always managed to find their way to you, one way or another.
His attention was intimidating at first, his cold stare leaving you unsure of what exactly his intention was. Was he trying to challenge you? Trying to determine if he knew you from somewhere else? A small part of you, a naive part, hoped that his staring was meant to be affectionate; he was cute, you’d admit it! Always showing up to class in cozy knit sweaters, his wavy hair still ruffled and untidy as if he’d just gotten out of bed, gold rimmed glasses perched atop a strong nose.
You quickly tear your gaze away from the back of Michael’s head, biting your bottom lip as you begin copying down the problem on the chalkboard, pausing briefly when you see, from the corner of your eye, his head turn as he glances at you over his shoulder. You felt your cheeks flush despite yourself, that small, sanguine voice in the back of your head cheering.
“Now, then,” Professor Davies booms, dropping the textbook down on his desk with a cacophonous thud before sweeping his eyes across the classroom, “A bit of review before we really dive in…” He continues, pacing around the front of the room as he explains the various parts and pieces of the equation on the board.
“What do you think you’ll wear?” Louise asks, leaning over once more to whisper in your ear, you can smell her signature floral perfume on her hair, “I was thinking I’d do that new blue-ish dress I got, you know, the strappy one?”
“Might still be too cold for strappy,” you whisper back, half listening to the professor drone on as you continue doodling on your paper, pausing every few minutes to jot down a few haphazard notes, “I was just thinking I’d do a jumper, probably a skirt and tights–”
Suddenly, you hear Professor Davies call your name, your cheeks practically stinging as blood rushes to your face. Sitting up straighter, you finally find the courage to meet his stern gaze, “Since you seem all too eager to share your thoughts,” He continues slowly stalking towards you across wooden floorboards that softly creak beneath his feet, “Would you care to enlighten us with the solution to the quadratic equation on the board?” He comes to a stop, hands clasped behind his back as he patiently waits for you to answer, a small, knowing smile poised on his lips.
“I– uhm, well,” you stutter, glancing back and forth between your barely there notes and the chalkboard, throat growing tighter as you feel everyone's eyes on you, “Don’t you need to solve for G first?”
“And how would you go about doing that?”
“Well, you would…” You trail off, desperately trying to remember the lessons you’d had before Easter holiday, absentmindedly picking at your cuticle as you pray to be anywhere but here or for a hole to open in the floor and swallow you whole, “I…I don’t recall, professor. I’m sorry.” You finally say, not being able to meet his gaze as you stare intently at your lap, desperately willing yourself not to cry, even as you feel your eyes stinging.
“Perhaps, in the future, it would be of benefit to socialize with your friends outside of my classroom.” Professor Davies admonishes, giving a sharp glare to Louise as well, who manages an apologetic smile. “Yes, Professor.” You whisper, keeping your eyes downturned.
Finally, you hear the floorboards softly creaking once more as Professor Davies makes his way back up to the podium at the front of the room and once again resumes his lecture. You can’t help but pause for a second when you hear a small snicker from the tall boy in front of you, sensing as he peers at you over his shoulder once again.
“Would anyone else like to take a crack at the problem on the board?” Professor Davies asks, leaning against the old, worn podium at the front of the room. Like clockwork, Michael’s hand shoots into the air. Somehow, that makes you blush even harder.
Eventually, Professor Davies finishes his lecture and retrieves his dark leather briefcase from under the desk, pulling a thick stack of papers out and sitting them on the podium, leaning over it with a sigh, “I have your tests graded. Most of you did very well, you should be pleased with yourselves. Some of you, however,” He says pointedly, “Could benefit greatly from a closer study of the material.”
Slowly, he walks around the room passing back tests, throwing out a comment here and there as he did so. You already know you hadn't done well on that particular test and dread getting it back and confirming your suspicions, so you keep yourself busy, choosing to meticulously pack up your things instead.
“Mr. Gavey,” he said a few feet away from you, papers rustling as he slid the test across the wooden surface of the long bench desks, “Once more, an outstanding job! Top of the class, keep it up.”
“Thank you, Professor,” you glance up, watching as he takes the paper with a humble nod, that same, oh-so pleased smile gracing his angular face. He must sense you looking at him and quickly shifts his gaze in your direction, eyes glimmering with self-satisfaction behind his gold-rimmed glasses as his smile quickly turns into a smirk. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his with a small, bewildered huff. Why did he seem to get so much satisfaction from besting you, of all people? It’s not like you were exactly an academic threat.
“Ms. Bickerstaff,” Professor Davies says, finally appearing next to the table you and Louise sat at, “Not bad, a bit more effort next time and you’re sure to be on track,” he remarks, sliding her paper across the desk. Louise thanks him with a small smile as she flips through her test, eyes scanning over his marks.
Finally, Professor Davies stands before you once again, your paper the very last in his hands. You hear him mutter your last name before he slides the paper across the desk to you, and you can’t help but deflate as you see your grade; you knew it would be bad, but that? How on Earth were you going to recover your average? What if you had to retake the whole course? What if you failed out of Oxford entirely? Your parents had sacrificed so much to help you get here, spending years and untold amounts of money on private tutors and extracurricular materials, all to help you have an impressive application! Not to mention the money just for the course fees! Unlike most of your friends, you didn’t come from piles and piles of money and status – your family was alright, sure, but you were definitely several tax brackets below them.
As your thoughts spiraled, you felt Louise elbow you in the side at the same time you heard Professor Davies address you again. Shaking your head to clear your scattered thoughts, you clear your throat and finally turn to look up at him, “Sorry, yes, Professor?”
“As I was saying,” Professor Davies continues, tapping the papers in front of you, “I would like to discuss your performance with you today, after class. Please meet me at the front of the room before you go.”
“Yes, sir.” you mumble dejectedly, nodding as you quickly flip the test over, embarrassed at the thought of anyone else seeing your grade.
“I’ll see you later, babes,” Louise says a few minutes later as everyone is clearing out of the room, “Good luck!” She whispers, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before making her way to the door.
“Thanks!” you smile weakly, swallowing the lump in your throat before picking up your things and heading to the front of the room. The afternoon sun is already getting lower in the sky, beams of light shining into the room, bathing rectangular swaths of the floor in bright, golden light and highlighting motes of dust as they scatter in the air. Only a few students are left in the classroom, some of them finishing up notes while others type out quick texts. As you walk by his desk, you notice Michael scribbling down notes in his planner.
You shuffle your feet nervously as you stand in front of the sizable oak desk that your professor sits at, watching as he adds a sticky note to the top of another stack of papers, “You wanted to see me, Professor?”
“Ah, yes!” He says, looking up at you over his glasses. He quickly caps his pen and stands, walking around the desk to stand in front of you, “I know this class has been quite the challenge,” he begins, leaning against the desk, “But, I think I’ve found a solution for you.”
“You have?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion.
“I think you could benefit greatly from a tutor, perhaps a peer who could explain the material to you in a different way,” he continues, “And I have just the student in mind.” Instantly, you feel a pit beginning to form in your stomach, biting your bottom lip as you watch Professor Davies motion for someone behind you to come up to the desk, “Mr. Gavey, if you could join us up here, please.”
You freeze when you feel him saunter up beside you, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye. He was so much taller than you, your head barely grazing his shoulder, as he came to a stop next to you, standing casually with his backpack slung over one shoulder.
Professor Davies once again turns his attention to you, motioning to Michael as he speaks, “Mr. Gavey here is one of my most capable students,” you can’t help but notice him stand up straighter at the comment, growing somehow even taller, “I’ve taken the liberty of asking him if he would be so kind as to assist you with some of the course work and he agreed.” You freeze a little at that, stunned that he would be so quick to help you when he seems to relish any opportunity to make you squirm. “I’ve given it some thought,” the professor continues, fixing you with a stern gaze, “And I’m willing to let you make corrections to your test and resubmit it for half credit.”
“Oh, thank you so much, prof–”
“However,” he adds, crossing his arms over his chest, “This will be the only time I do so. From now on, I suggest you see Mr. Gavey here on a regular basis; the material is only going to get more challenging as we begin this next unit.”
“Of course, professor. Thank you again.” You respond quietly, shifting uneasily as you stand between the two men.
“Right, well, now that’s sorted,” Professor Davies says, clapping his hands together once as he turns and makes his way back over to the desk chair, sitting down with a tired sigh, “I trust the two of you can come to an agreement upon when and where to meet. I’ll see you again Monday, have a pleasant weekend.” He says, waving his hand dismissively as he goes back to organizing his papers.
The two of you murmur your goodbyes before making your way into the hall, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as he follows you out of the classroom. Eventually, you come across a small alcove in the hallway; finally turning to face him, you let your eyes sweep up his body, finally coming to meet his blue eyes, slightly hidden behind the glare of the hallway lights on his glasses.
“So,” you clear your throat and shift on your feet awkwardly, “Uh, what time works for you? I really can’t do Saturdays–” you begin, only to be cut off.
“Shame,” Michael sighs dismissively, a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth, “Saturday is the only day that works for me.”
The tone of his voice and the mirthful glint in his eyes makes you very much doubt that, your gaze narrowing, “Okay, well Saturday’s are the only day I have off,” you huff, only growing more annoyed as the stupid smirk on his face grows with satisfaction, no doubt pleased that he’s being a nuisance, “Besides, I super can’t tomorrow, anyway. I already promised my friends I’d come with them to this party tha–”
“Oh, I know about your little party,” Michael scoffs, “Trust me, love, the whole damn class heard about that stupid fucking party with the way you lot were running your mouths earlier,” he chuckles coldly, continuing in an exaggerated high-pitched voice, one hand coming up to mime twirling a lock of hair, “Oooooh, it’s so cold, can’t wear the fuckin’ strappy dress, gotta wear me jumper and little slutty skirt, la-dee-dah.” He finishes with a final huff of laughter.
“What is your deal with me?!” You finally snap, glaring at him, even as you feel your face redden, “You’ve been a dick all semester and I haven’t done anything to you! I’ve never even talked to you!” Glancing around the empty hallway, you cross your arms over your chest, praying no one’s in earshot to hear your hissed tirade.
“I might not know you but I know plenty about your little friends,” he sneers, shaking his head like a disappointed father; the sight makes your blood boil.
“What does that even mean?” You demand, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. What did your friends have to do with any of this? None of them ever spoke about Michael, none of them even knew him as far as you were aware.
His face softens, if only for a moment, as he registers the genuine confusion on your face, smirk faltering as his eyes narrow. He leans in closer to you as he begins speaking again and you can’t help but get a brief smell of the cologne he wears, something warm and woodsy that makes you think of a bookshop and the smell of the forest after it rains, “Come on,” he starts, blue eyes flitting between both of yours as he looks at you intently, “Felix Catton? You and your little friend, the one from class, you go around with him, yeah?”
You nod, giving him another puzzled look, confused as to what the hell Felix has to do with any of his disdain, “Yeah,” you say slowly, drawing out the word, “But, what does he have to do with anything?”
Michael huffs once more, almost laughing to himself as he shakes his head, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “See, we went to school together, him and I – some of primary, all of secondary,” he shrugs, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he traps you in his gaze once again, “And I just don’t fucking like the guy. Can’t stand him, never could’ve.”
You’re silent for a second, and now it’s your turn to flick your eyes back and forth, searching each of his for some sort of coherent answer and yet you come up empty. “But, what does that have to do with me?” You ask slowly, making sure to carefully enunciate each word.
“Don’t trust the people around him either,” he mutters, gazing down at his shoe, “Weirdos, the whole lot. There’s something…off about the guy. Can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something dark there, all around him. Like he’s putting on one big show. All his little gremlins do too, they all act the same.”
The two of you are silent for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say next. You chance a glance up at him, nearly gasping when you find him already gazing at you – an unreadable expression on his face. Yet a light blush still blooms on your cheeks as you quickly look away once again, your heart thudding so loudly you’re wondering if he can hear it – hell, you’re wondering why you’re reacting this way at all, why you’re so shy and skittish around him.
“M’not like that,” you very nearly whisper, finally seeming to regain your voice. Only to lose it once again when he takes a half step toward you, suddenly crowding you further into the small alcove.
He makes a small noise, damn near cooing at you, tilting his head to the side when he notices you flinch as he raises an arm, gently raising your chin with one hand, angling your head up to meet his gaze, that signature smirk once again taking hold on his face as he looks at you curiously, “You’re not like that, are you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy.
You quickly shake your head, blinking up at him, unsure of what exactly he wants from you. You feel your cheeks stinging for the umpteenth time today with how hard you’re blushing, a strange feeling taking root in your stomach the longer you stare at him, that small voice in your head positively cheering.
But, as quickly as whatever spell he seems to have on you takes hold, it’s broken as he suddenly lets go of your chin and steps back, casually pursing his lips and nodding to himself, coming to some unknown decision in his head, “Meet me in Bodleian, tomorrow at five. There’s hardly anyone up on the third floor on the weekends, so we'll be able to focus.” He says simply, turning on his heel to leave without even giving you a second to answer.
“But I’m bus–”
“D’you want a good grade or do you want to go get drunk with your creepy gremlin friends?” He asks, peering over his shoulder as he saunters down the hallway, raising an eyebrow at you over the shiny gold rim of his glasses, “S’your call, love.” He finishes with a shrug, disappearing as he turns a corner and leaves you standing there alone, frowning and dumbstruck.
“Bodleian at five it is,” you mutter to yourself, sighing as you turn and walk the opposite way, desperately trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach and the fog in your brain.
Your shoes tap against the stone pavement as you walk up to the old library, backpack slung over one shoulder; reaching into a pocket of your backpack, you blindly grab for your phone as you pull open one of the heavy, old wooden doors and step into the atrium. Out of all of Oxford’s libraries, you had to admit that Bodleian was one of your favorites; it had such a soothing atmosphere – from the way the evening light trickled in through the old glass windows, to the intricate wooden decor, and the way the entire place smelled of the old, well-loved books that lined the countless rows of shelves.
Stepping to the side of the entryway, you check the time, your hand shaking a bit as you unlock your phone – 4:53pm, a little early, still. Sighing, you crane your head, nervously looking for Michael. Not seeing him, you decide to bide your time examining one of the tall bookshelves near the entrance, eyes skimming over their titles as you fiddle with the strings of the hoodie you’d decided to wear. Smiling, you lean up on your tiptoes to grab a copy of The Two Towers, happy to see a familiar book. Just as your fingers graze over the embossed gold lettering on the spine of the book, a large pair of hands grab you by the shoulders.
“Boo!” Someone whispers, close enough that you feel the warmth of their breath on the side of your neck.
You spin around with a small shriek, jerking your head to the side when a hand is suddenly clasped over your mouth.
“Shh! Hey, relax!” Finally managing to focus on the face in front of you, your breathing slows as your gaze meets a pair of round blue eyes. Michael’s face is only inches from yours, concern evident, even behind the mask of a smirk he wears. “It’s only me.” He says softly, smirk softening into a genuine smile that sends a frantic tingle down your spine, which you desperately try to ignore as you nod against his hand, gasping in a small breath as it lowers once again to rest on your shoulder.
“Hi.” Blinking up at him, you breathe the word more so than say it as you settle back on your feet, cheeks flushing as you realize he has his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you forward ever so slightly, like he wanted to make sure your head didn’t hit the sharp edge of one of the shelves; the voice in your head purrs as the butterflies in your stomach summersalt.
“Hi.” He answers and you feel the hand on your shoulder twitch, the ghost of a comforting squeeze or rub causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end as some strange, warm weight settles in the pit of your stomach.
Suddenly, whatever spell the two of you seemed to be under broke and you quickly clambered away from one another. Michael cleared his throat, running a hand through his wheat colored hair as you tugged at the sleeves of your hoodie, trying to look anywhere but in his direction. “Should we–” He starts suddenly, nodding his head to a staircase at the other end of the room, “It’ll be quieter up there.”
“Sure!” You chirp, giving him a curt nod, “Lead the way, you seem to know the place better than I do.”
“Well,” he chuckles, keeping his voice low as he moves past you, “S’what happens when you don’t spend all your damn time at weirdo parties.”
You roll your eyes behind him, huffing as you start following him up the staircase, one of your hands gliding across the smooth, polished wood of the bannister.
“Sorry.” He says suddenly as you reach the third floor of the library, running a hand through his hair once again as he stands at the top of the staircase.
“What?” You ask, coming to a stop on the last step and looking up at him, tilting your head to the side as you lean against the handrail.
“For earlier,” he explains, gesturing for you to follow him as he starts making his way to the back corner of the large, open space, the one furthest from the stairs, “Scaring you, I mean. Didn’t mean to.”
You’re quiet for a moment, following him as the two of you walk past aisle after aisle of towering bookshelves. The area is definitely quieter than the main floor, nearly vacant aside from one or two lone students sitting at the long wooden study tables. It’s calm up here, evening light filtering in through large windows on either end of the long room, casting large shadows on the floor and vaulted ceilings.
Eventually, the two of you come to a stop at a table, the very last in its row, tucked away in a corner. “It’s alright,” you shrug, trying to keep your voice soft in the quiet space as you sit your backpack on the edge of the table, “I don’t know why I’m so jumpy today, maybe the tea from earlier.” You lie, hopefully smoothly, and quickly grab a pen and notebook as well, before sitting down.
Michael huffs to himself as he sits his things out on the table as well, like he’s laughing at a joke you can’t hear, “Maybe it’s all that tension.”
“Wh– tension?” You question, cringing at the urgency in your voice as you pray that he doesn’t pick up on it, shifting in your seat as he pulls out the chair next to you and plops down, completely relaxed as if he owns the place.
“The stress? That you were meant to be working out at Catton’s?” He gives you an odd look, resting his head against his hand as he leans his elbow on the table, “Couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation yesterday.”
“Oh…” You breathe, a pink haze settling over your cheeks once more as you fidget with your pen, acutely aware of how easily he seems to be able to make you blush.
The smirk on his face widens as he narrows his eyes, studying you in a way that makes your heart squeeze, your thighs clenching together as that heady weight from earlier makes itself known again in your stomach, “You can’t keep one thought in that head, can you, love?”
You blink, unsure of what to say, as two halves of your brain argue with one another. Why is he so mean? You wonder to yourself, eyes searching his, as you frown, And…God, why do I like it?
“Why don’t you like me?” You ask, finally breaking the silence with your small voice.
He scoffs again, shaking his head as if the answer should be obvious to you, “You don’t take it seriously. You come to class and whisper and gossip with your damn friend or doodle in your little notebook, but you don’t fucking listen.” He sits back up, frowning, “I work hard every fucking day in there, for fuck’s sake, I only agreed to help you because I want to be Davies’s teaching assistant next year! Yet you and Catton and everyone like you can just pay their way in here, collecting a little diploma from Oxford just so their parents can brag about it with their stupid fucking rich friends.” He finally finishes, turning his head to stare out the window.
“Told you, I’m not like that,” you whisper after a moment, voice wavering from the tightness in the back of your throat, “I’m here on scholarship, same as you.”
His eyes flit back to you, his frown deepening, “How did you know ab–”
“Like I’m not going to ask around about the guy tutoring me?”
“Fair enough.” He concedes after a minute.
Silence settles over the two of you again, like a stalemate, waiting to see who would crack first. Finally, you turn to him with a sigh, nodding to your test paper on the desk, “Can we just get this done? I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”
“Ah, of course,” he nods as he picks up your test, looking over the first incorrect problem, “Catton’s big important party. And you’re stuck here with a loser like me; must really be doing your head in, huh?”
You want so badly to correct him, to tell him that no, actually, for once, you were kind of excited to not be at one of Felix’s parties. You wanted to tell him that you’d hoped things would be different, maybe if it was just the two of you he would drop the arrogant asshole bit, that you stupidly hoped it was just an act.
Instead, you bite your lip, determined not to lash out and give him another reason to dislike you, “I don’t think you’re a loser, Michael,” you say, tiredly meeting his gaze, “Can we just focus on this now, please?”
He’s quiet for a moment, frozen like you’d said something groundbreaking. Finally, he nods his head, almost imperceptibly like he’d come to a decision you weren’t privy to, “Sure,” he says gruffly, grabbing your test and reading over the first incorrect problem, “S’not like I’m the one failing.” He finishes, his voice tight and determined, like he knew it was something he’d regret saying even as the words left his mouth.
See? You think silently, pointed words aimed at that stupid voice in your head, Told you so.
It’s barely an hour later and you already feel cross-eyed, groaning as Michael flips your test over to the next page and you see you’re only just now halfway done correcting the ones you’d gotten wrong. You hate to admit it to yourself, but his tutoring was helping — problems that you’d hardly been able to finish the first time seem far less daunting as he explains them to you. Even he seems less daunting as the hour goes on; shockingly, he doesn’t make anymore snide comments and you can tell that he genuinely enjoys talking about the subject, patiently helping you through each problem.
“Can we take a break?” You grumble, laying your head down on top of your textbook.
“What?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he checks his watch, “It’s hardly been an hour and you’re ready to give up?”
“‘M not giving up,” you mumble, “I just think we could use a little break…” You say hopefully, looking at him with a small smile. When he doesn’t break, holding your gaze with a frown, you sigh, “Just, like, ten minutes, please?”
You want to groan again when you see that formidable smirk make its home on his lips again, “Say please again.” He commands, his voice low.
“Huh?” You balk, nearly dropping your phone as you retrieve it from your pocket.
“Say please again,” he says slowly, his smirk only growing wider as he watches your cheeks redden, “Beg.”
“W-why?” You question, face burning as you try your damndest to look unbothered by his request.
He shrugs dismissively, “Makes you squirm,” he answers finally, leaning back in his chair, “I like that.”
“Why?” Your voice is so small you doubt he’d even know you spoke if his eyes weren’t fixed on you.
He hums, a satisfied noise, like you’ve finally managed to meander into a trap he’d set ages ago, “S’fucking cute,” he huffs out a laugh when he sees your eyes widen, “Makes you blush and act all dumb.”
You know you should be offended, but you can’t find it within yourself to care, “You think I’m cute?”
He chuckles, sighing, “That’s what you choose to focus on?”
“Do you?”
“Fine, yes.”
“Please, Michael,” you say suddenly, the words feeling practically punched from your throat, “Please, please can we have a break? Please, only ten minutes?” You beg, breathing hard as you quickly scan the room, shoulders relaxing when you don’t see anyone else sitting at the study tables.
You see the way his eyes widen behind his glasses, like he can’t believe you actually did it, before they narrow once more, overtaken by a satisfied gleam, “Ten minutes.” He says simply, leaning back in his chair yet again, letting his head flop back, relaxed, and closes his eyes.
You don’t move for a second, letting your eyes study the side of his face, looking over his sharp jawline and the curve of his nose. After a moment, you look away, deciding to pull out your phone.
A few minutes go by as you answer a few texts from Louise, telling her that you miss her too and how you wish you were at the party — a lie, though you can’t find it within yourself to care. You busy yourself for a while longer, watching a few people's Instagram stories, the volume on your phone muted as you watch your friends dance under colorful strobe lights, blowing smoke at the camera and clinking drinks together.
“I meant what I said.” You say finally, laying your phone on the table and picking at one of your cuticles.
“Hm?” Michael questions, not bothering to open his eyes.
“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you answer, fidgeting, “I never have. I think you’re…intriguing.”
“Intriguing?” He asks, finally sitting up and looking at you with a questioning stare, “How so?”
You swallow, tucking your hair behind your ear with a shrug, “You’re smart…you know you’re smart,” you start, voice small and shaky, “I like that.”
“You like that or you like me?” He’s looking at you like a cat playing with a helpless mouse, looking at you like he knows he’s already won a game you don’t even know the two of you are playing.
“You.” It comes out as a breath.
He doesn’t answer and eventually you look away from him, choosing to stare out the window at the streetlights outside, the sky dark.
Finally, the silence becomes overbearing and you break first again, “Thank you,” you smile at him, keeping your voice low even though you know the rest of the floor is vacant, even though the noise of the floors below has drastically faded over the last hour, “For helping me, I mean. You probably have a dozen things you’d rather do on a Saturday.”
He stays quiet for a few seconds, “I didn’t really have anything better to do,” he smirks, “No parties.”
“None?”
“Never,” he shakes his head, shrugging, “Don’t get invited.”
“Oh,” you answer simply, “Well, still, either way, thank you.” You smile again, but it falters when he leans forward suddenly, crowding into your space with a sly grin, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck.
“I know a way you could repay me, love,” he whispers lowly into your ear, your hair standing on end, “Only if you want to, of course.” He adds, his long fingers toying with a strand of your hair.
Your eyes grow comically wide as you process what he just said, “H-how do you want me to repay you?” You whisper, your eyes finally meeting his.
He laughs softly, letting go of the strand of your hair to rest his hand lightly against the side of your face, his thumb skimming over your cheek as he watches a rosy hue settle across it, “I can think,” he starts, thumb moving lower to skate across your bottom lip, slightly tugging the skin with it, “Of one very fucking good way to put this mouth to use, love.”
You part your lips slightly, letting the tip of his thumb into your mouth, just barely holding it between your teeth as you lightly run your tongue over it, heart skipping a beat at the way his lips just barely part in shock as you do. The voice in your head purrs again, roaring back to life, and you nod, smiling around his finger.
“Yeah?” He questions, smirking as he watches your lips twitch around his thumb, “”Y’wanna?”
“Yes.” You reply around his thumb, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearm, the fabric of his rust colored sweater soft under your hands.
“Beg.” He commands again, eyes twinkling.
You take in a breath, eyes slipping shut as your thighs clench around nothing – missing the way Michael glances down at the movement, a knowing grin forming on his face, “Please, Michael.” You practically whine.
“Ooh,” he coos, finally moving his thumb from your mouth, only to trail his hand down your neck, lightly resting it against your throat, “I think you can do better than that, pretty. Open your eyes and damn beg.”
You follow his orders, a small whimper skirting past your lips at the new pet name as you open your eyes, “Please, Michael, please let me repay you, let me thank you, please.” The words tumble out, your eyes wide and pleading.
“How’re you planning on doing that, empty headed little thing?” He taunts, the hand around your throat just barely tightening but it’s enough to make you let out a small, desperate whine. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, moving close enough to you that the front of his chest is plastered to your side, his heart beating against your shoulder, “Ask for what you want, beg properly.” His breath fans across the side of your face again, the feeling of his lips brushing over the side of your jaw making you jump.
“Please, God, Michael,” you whine, squeezing your legs together so hard you’re surprised they haven’t fused together, “P-please let me suck your cock — to thank you, thank you for helping me.” You add quickly, breath shaky as you turn your head to look at him imploringly.
He chuckles, but he looks pleased as he leans back momentarily, craning his neck to make sure there isn’t anyone around, “Alright, alright, love,” he soothes, coming back to face you, nodding his head to the empty space in front of his hair, below the table, “Not God, but I’ll give you what you want.” He teases.
Your breath catches in your throat as you look down at the floor beneath the desk, then back up at him before nodding, “Yes, sir.” You push yourself off your chair, sliding down beneath the desk.
“Goddammit,” you hear him groan above you, running his palms over his thighs as he parts them, making room for you, “Keep that up, love, might even give you extra credit.”
You rest your palms against the tops of his thighs as you move between his legs, getting comfortable on your knees, the old wooden floor cool against your skin, even through your black leggings. Finally, your eyes settle on the sizable bulge, covered by his dark jeans, and you can’t help the small whine that leaves your lips. Slowly, you move your hands up to the button of his pants, quickly popping it open and dragging the zipper down, smiling when Michael sighs above you as he pulls his sweater up out of the way, exposing the pale skin of his stomach. You let your eyes roam over him, warmth settling between your legs as you spot the dusting of light hair that starts beneath his belly button and leads downwards, disappearing under his plaid boxers.
You move closer to him, crowding in between his long legs, as you hook your fingers over the tops of his boxers, before finally looking up at him, “Can I…?” You ask, nodding to where his cock is straining against the fabric.
“Don’t be shy now, princess,” he groans, running a hand through your hair as he stares down at you, “Get on with it.”
You keep your eyes on his as you pull his boxers down, just enough to free his cock, watching the way his chest heaves as he lets out another relieved sigh. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his as you look at his cock, gasping in a breath as you do. As far as dicks go, Michaels is impressive, beautiful even – long and thick with veins running up the underside, leading up to a flushed, leaking tip.
You take him in your hand tentatively, squeezing him lightly around the base, your confidence growing when he grunts, breathing heavier. Finally, you lightly lick the tip, eyes sliding closed at the pleasant, salty taste of his pre-cum. You take the tip of him in your mouth, humming around him when his fingers tighten in your hair, lightly pushing on the back of your head, silently urging you to take more of him.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he roughly groans, managing to keep his voice low, “Knew that pretty fucking mouth was good for something.” He moves his hips, impatiently thrusting his cock an inch deeper into your mouth, breathily cursing under his breath.
You start bobbing your head up and down over his length, taking more and more of him into your mouth, more of his pre-cum leaking onto your tongue as you feel his dick throb and twitch in your hand. After a moment, you take a deep breath through your nose and remove your hand, resting it on his thigh, as you take him all the way to the base, your nose nestled in the short patch of hair there as you breathe in his heady scent, your eyes glazing over as you savor the feeling of him at the back of your throat.
“Jesus!” He grunts, louder than he meant to, keeping your head in place as he thrusts his hips up again, keeping you in place at the base of his cock, “Fuck, that’s it,” he praised lowly, your center throbbing, no doubt leaking onto the fabric of your leggings, “Look at me, wanna see your eyes while I fuck your throat.”
You whine, desperately blinking back tears as you look up at him, trying to keep your breathing even. You hold his gaze as you stick your tongue out, licking lower, down toward his balls, relishing the way his eyes roll back as you do, stomach muscles twitching as he continues thrusting his hips up into your mouth, soaking his boxers and jeans with your spit.
“Oh, fuck, that’s it,” he groans, looking down at you, his eyelids heavy, “God, yeah, cry on my cock love. Fuck, you look so pretty crying on my cock.” He mumbles, talking to himself more so than you.
His words send a shiver down your spine, adding to the heat in your center, and you whimper when he finally moves his hand from the back of your head, allowing you to come up for air. You do, with a gasp, thin strings of spit connecting your reddened lips with the flushed head of his cock. You keep your eyes on his as you wrap your lips around him once more, running your tongue along the thick vein on the underside before sucking at the swollen tip, relishing the way it makes him clench his jaw and gasp through his teeth as you stroke the rest of him with your hand.
Above you, he smirks again, gently running his hand through your hair but making no move to press your head down again. He cocks his head to the side, studying you, grinning at the far-off, foggy look in your eyes, “Not a thought in that pretty head, is there?” He asks, bringing his hand down and gently patting your cheek; the ghost of a slap making your thighs clench, making your head dizzy with need.
You nod around him, moving your head up and down along his length. You feel yourself throbbing with need, pulsing with heat; almost automatically, your hand starts to wander, a small sigh escaping you as your hand presses against your center through your leggings. You feel a warmth settle across your cheeks again as you feel your own wetness, leaking through the fabric just as you’d suspected. You whimper as you press down again, your eyes falling shut as you let your hips grind against your fingers, the wet fabric creating a delicious friction against your clit.
Which you get to feel for all of five seconds before Michael is suddenly yanking your head from his length, causing you to yelp as he tugs your hair. “Did I say you could touch your cunt?”
“N-no,” you whine pathetically, eyes watering from the harsh hold he has on your hair, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t think—“ You try to explain, only for him to cut you off with another harsh tug, making you mewl.
“That’s a pattern with you, isn’t it?” He asks, looking at you with a condescending smirk, studying you again, “You were being such a good girl earlier, what happened? Hm?” He questions, pushing his chair back enough to pull you out from under the table.
You get to your feet, suddenly feeling shy in front of him once again despite having his cock in your mouth mere moments ago. “I…got distracted.” You answer finally.
“I got distracted….who?” He asks, looking up at you expectantly over the rims of his glasses.
“I got distracted, sir,” you quickly correct yourself, eyes frantically scanning the still vacant floor of the library, “I’m sorry.”
“That’s much better, love,” he drawls, placing his hands on your hips, “Now, what could’ve been so fucking distracting, huh?” He starts moving his hands, slowly, toward your center, still looking up at you, his eyes questioning. You nod your head, just barely but enough for him to understand, and any hesitancy from him quickly disappeared. “Could it be this, I wonder?” He questions sardonically, suddenly cupping your heat in his large hand, the warmth of it nearly making your knees buckle, even through the thin fabric of your leggings. He hums, the sound low in his chest, when he feels how much you’ve soaked the fabric,
“Oh,” you whimper, grabbing at his shoulders to keep yourself balanced as his fingers continue to tease you, rubbing circles into your clit, “Oh my God, fuck.”
“Christ,” he breathes, staring up at you with dark eyes, “So fucking wet, love, holy hell. Did you get this way just from sucking my cock?”
“Yeah,” you whine, nodding your head desperately as you try to swallow all the small noises you want to make in your throat, your hips rutting against his hand, “Please, sir!”
“Oh, so now that dumb brain has no trouble remembering damn instructions, huh?” He taunts, a wicked grin on his face as his fingers rub your clit in smaller, harsher circles, making you see stars, “Need your wet little cunt played with to be able to do as you're told?”
You nod your head frantically, tears nearly spilling from your eyes at the zaps of pleasure radiating from you, your walls clenching around nothing. Just as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge, he stops, jerking his hand away from you with a knowing chuckle, “W-what?” You question, eyes blinking open, “I was so close!” You whine, nearly stamping your foot on the floor like a petulant child.
“Told you,” Michael shrugs, pulling you to sit in his lap, your back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. His breath tickles the side of your neck and face when he speaks again, “You’re so fun to tease, love, can’t help myself.”
You wiggle in his grasp, making him groan as your ass grinds against his hard length, desperately trying to get your hands free to touch your pussy again, nearly out of your mind with need. “P-please, sir, please touch me!” You finally gasp out, knowing he won’t give in until you do.
“Now there’s a good girl,” he says, voice pleased and cocky as he plants kisses along the side of your neck, “Since you asked so nicely…” He says, letting go of one of your arms, letting you grasp the arm still wrapped around you with your hands, as his free hand skirts down your stomach to the top of your leggings, pausing long enough for you to nod again, before he finally touches you.
You whimper, jerking in his lap at the feel of his warm fingers directly on your heat for the first time, spreading your wet folds with a satisfied hum. His long fingers move down to your entrance, gathering some of the wetness there, “You’re so fucking wet,” he marvels, dragging his fingers up to your aching clit, “Fucking dripping on my fingers.” He murmurs in your ear, nipping at the side of your neck and sending tingles down your spine as he starts rubbing tight, wet circles against your bud.
You tilt your head back, resting it against his shoulder as your chest heaves. A moan leaves your mouth, louder than it should be, and Michaels free hand shoots up, wrapping around your mouth. “Gotta be quiet, love,” he whispers, not slowing down the movement of his fingers in the slightest, “Wouldn’t want someone to interrupt, hm? Make me stop again?”
You squeeze your eyes shut, whining desperately against his hand as he moves his fingers against you, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter. Your whole body lurches atop his, making him suck a breath in through his teeth as you move against his cock, still hard and hot as it presses against your lower back, when he moves his hand lower, plunging two fingers into your tight heat with no warning. “Fuck!” You yelp, muffled against his hand; tears leak from the corners of your eyes as he moves his fingers, scissoring them into you relentlessly as his thumb circles your clit.
“S’fucking tight,” he mumbles lowly, voice vibrating his chest against your back, “God, you’re tight.” He grunts between clenched teeth, repeatedly crooking his fingers inside you as he fucks his fingers in and out of your heat, letting out small, barely there groans every time your pussy squelches around his fingers as he punches muffled whines and whimpers from you. He crooks his fingers up suddenly in a way that makes you see stars as you writhe on his lap, your knees shooting up off the floor as you attempt to curl up on yourself, “That the spot?” He teases, relentlessly rubbing his fingers against it as his thumb quickens against your clit. He adds a third finger without warning, curling them up against that rough patch inside you as he bites down on your shoulder, muffling his own groan as he feels you clench down on his fingers.
“You gonna come?” He mumbles, grinning like a cheshire cat when you frantically nod your head, tears leaking onto the hand still wrapped tightly around your mouth. “Open your eyes,” he commands, not stopping his movements, “Want you to watch what I’m doing to you when you fucking cum.”
At the promise of finally getting to come, your eyes shoot open as you pick your head up off his shoulder, looking down the length of your body to where his hand disappears under your leggings. You practically come undone at the sight, watching as his hand moves against you through the dark fabric, maintaining a careful rhythm. “Michael, please!” You whine against his hand, desperately trying to keep your eyes open.
He chuckles lowly, clearly proud of how quickly he’s been able to reduce you into a begging mess, the sound reverberating off your back. “Fucking come,” he commands, doubling his efforts, “Soak my fucking hand, love.”
The coil in your stomach finally snaps and you sob, eyes snapping shut as your whole body clenches, shaking in his lap, as fireworks burst behind your eyelids. Your entire core clamps down so tight he has to fight to keep his fingers within you, muting the sounds of his groans against your neck and shoulder as he feels your cunt pulse against his fingers. He doesn’t let up, pressing incessantly against that spot within you as you come, until he finally gets what he wants – both of you groaning together, noises muffled, as a stream of fluid seems to erupt from your center, soaking his hand and the inside of your leggings, though you can’t think enough to care at the moment.
“Goddammit,” he grunts, finally removing his hand from your leggings, running his fingers through your folds one last time just to make you squirm. Suddenly, he’s lifting you off his lap enough to turn you around, maneuvering you to face him. You’re practically boneless in his lap as he lifts you just enough to pull your leggings down over your ass, pressing his bare cock against your still throbbing center when he sets you back down, “Gonna let me fuck you, love? Hm? Want me to make you go dumb around my cock?”
You nod your head weakly, not bothering to lift it from his shoulder as you straddle his lap. He doesn’t make you beg this time, too desperate to feel your wet heat around him, as he swiftly lifts you up again, just enough to align his length with your entrance.
Both of you moan as he lets you sit back down, his hard length disappearing into your warmth. He holds the back of your head, pressing your mouth against his neck to muffle your cries; you can feel his jaw clench with the effort of keeping his own muted. He fills you deliciously, thick cock pressed against every part of you, as your clit presses against the small thatch of hair above his length.
“Fuck,” he huffs, the word hissed between his teeth as he squeezes his eyes shut, savoring the way your pussy pulses around his length, the way you desperately mouth and lick at his neck, “God, knew you’d feel good.”
Somehow, that remark works it’s way through the fog in your brain, “Hm?” you hum against his neck, your hands coming up to tangle in his golden hair, “You thought about me?” You whimper, words whiny and breathy as he rocks you against him, spearing you on his length again and again, head kissing your cervix just enough to knock the air from your lungs every time he lowers you back down.
He sighs, as if just now realizing what he’d said, and nods, swallowing down a moan before he speaks, “‘Course I did,” he admits, grinding you down against him, his hips pressed against yours. “Looked so damn pretty in class,” he continues, “So cute all, fuck, all flushed and embarrassed every time you got asked a question.”
His admission makes you clench around him, heat flooding through your system as you process what he’d said. Your clit grinds against his body again, just as the head of his cock brushes against that spot in your center, and it’s like your brain has been whited out, all you can do is mewl against his neck as he rocks you up and down along his cock.
“Fuck, I feel this sweet cunt getting tight, love,” he says, breathing heavily as he gets closer to his own release, “Y’gonna come?”
“Yes!” You whimper, voice high-pitched and broken as you nod frantically against the skin of his neck, now wet with your spit and tears as you rock yourself against him, moving your clit against the hair at the base of his cock.
“Hold it,” he commands softly, more breathing than speaking. He chuckles when he hears you whine, loving the way you mewl for him like a soft little kitten, and the hand still holding your head against him strokes your hair, soothing you. “Want us to come together,” he huffs, cursing under his breath as he feels you grow somehow tighter around him, “Fuck, I’m close just hold on.” The hand on your hip tightens, grinding you tightly against him, groaning as he feels your center milking his cock, your walls clenching around him desperately.
“F-fuck, Michael,” you whine, breath hot against the column of his throat as you feel yourself tipping over, “Please! Please I can’t hold it, please!” You beg beautifully, weeping against his skin, trying so hard to keep it down to a whisper so you don’t draw attention, not this close to your release.
“Where, fuck,” he curses, pulling your head up to look in your eyes, the blue in his nearly swallowed by blackness, “Tell me where.” He pants, his voice urgent.
“Inside me!” You breathe, cunt clenching around him as you feel him twitch inside you.
He groans, forehead resting against your shoulder for a second as he tries to maintain control, both of his hands gripping your ass hard enough to leave bruises, “Are you s–”
“Yes!” You nod, resting your forehead against his when he picks his head back up, “‘M on the pill.” You reassure him as you keep nodding. The two of you move together for a few more seconds, wildly grinding together, before the coil in your stomach is finally wound too tight, “Michael, oh, fuck!”
“Fuck,” he gasps, seeming to get somehow thicker inside you, “Come for daddy, fuck, be good and come.” He commands, his own voice low and frenzied.
Hearing him call himself that does you in, and you shatter around him, walls gripping him tightly. You open your mouth, unable to control a loud moan, which he quickly hushes by pressing his lips against yours, licking into your mouth as he thrusts up into your center harshly a few times, each rise of his hips accompanied by a grunt into your waiting mouth as you mewl at the heat of his cum filling you up, extending your own release.
The two of you stay quiet for a moment, breathing heavily as you sweetly kiss, tiredly pressing your lips together. Finally, you pull away from him giggling shyly when you meet his eyes, blushing as you feel his length slowly softening inside you. “Getting shy on me now?” He teases, smiling at you as he gently plays with your hair.
You smile back at him for a second before suddenly coming to your senses and remembering where you are, “Shit,” you whisper, hopping up off his lap, “I cannot believe we just did that!” You quickly scan the floor with wide eyes, shoulders visibly relaxing when you still don’t see anyone.
“Wasn’t in my plan,” Michael starts, tucking his member back into his boxers and zipping up his jeans, “But I’m certainly not complaining.” He finishes, smirking at you before standing. He leans down, helping you pull up your leggings. He doesn’t miss the way you grimace when the damp, now unpleasantly cool, fabric presses against you. “Sorry,” he apologizes, gesturing to them, “I should’ve…controlled myself better with that one.” He finishes, awkwardly scratching at his chin.
You laugh quietly, trying to play it off although you’re dreading the half hour train ride back to your flat. That feeling doubles when you look down, eyes widening as you see the dark patch around your crotch, hardly visible on the dark fabric but enough that it makes you nervous, “Getting home is gonna be fun.” You joke, turning to begin gathering your things.
You’ve gotten your textbook put back into your backpack when you feel a tap on your shoulder; turning your head, you look wide-eyed when you see him sheepishly smiling at you, holding his red sweater out as he stands in a band t-shirt, “Here,” he says softly, waving the sweater at you, “You need it more than I do and it’s my fucking fault anyway.”
You blush, taking the sweater from him with a small thank you, tying it around your waist as he busies himself with picking up his things, before putting the rest of yours into your backpack as well, “Oh, you didn’t have to do that!” You tell him as you finish situating his sweater around you, satisfied that the stain is covered.
He huffs out a laugh, “You sucked my cock on the floor of a library,” he jokes, eyes sparkling with mischief yet again, “S’the least I could do.”
You laugh, playfully shoving at his shoulder as you put your backpack on. The floor is truly, blessedly, empty as the two of you leave and walk downstairs, not seeing anyone on the second floor either and only a few stragglers on the main floor at this hour on a Saturday evening. He pushes open one of the heavy wooden doors at the entrance, holding it open for you as you duck under his arm. The door thuds closed behind you as you both stand outside the library, the air cold now that the sun’s gone down.
“I really like them, that band,” you say, nodding to his shirt, “Their last album’s really good.”
“Oh!” He says, eyebrows raising in surprise, “You know them?” He asks, smiling when you nod again, “Their new album is probably my favorite too, actually.” The two of you stand in a comfortable silence for a second later before he notices you shiver as a breeze blows through the stoney courtyard. “D’you live close to campus?”
“Half hour on the train,” you shrug, pulling your phone out to check the time, “I should probably go soon if I’m gonna catch the next one…”
“You could come to mine?” He asks, his voice hopeful, “It’s only a walk from here, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes?”
Your eyes widen, having not expected his invitation, but you nod nonetheless, “If you’re sure,” he nods, “Then, yeah! That would be great.” You smile, walking beside him as you start heading in the direction of his flat.
“Would you maybe want to get lunch sometime?” He asks, glancing down at you.
“I would love that,” you smile, your hand brushing against his as you continue down the sidewalk, “I think I might need more tutoring, too…”
His hand catches yours, your fingers intertwining as he smirks, “Will you suck my cock every time?” He teases, grinning as you laugh, the sound echoing off the buildings and filtering into the night air.
Told you so. The voice in the back of your mind echos as you lean your head on Michael’s shoulder.
tagged lovelies: @schniiipsel @arcielee @darlingofvalyria @aemshaircare @imaegontatgaryenwife0 @valeskafics @beautbuck @watercolorskyy @marysucks-blog @fan-goddess @drakonflames @helloworldiamnotarobot
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#michael gavey#michael gavey fic#michael gavey smut#michael gavey x reader#michael gavey x you#michael gavey fanfiction#michael gavey oneshot#saltburn#saltburn fic#saltburn smut#saltburn fanfiction#saltburn oneshot#ewan mitchell#ewan nation#ewanverse#ewan mitchell fic#ewan mitchell smut#fanfiction#fanfic#fic#my writing
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18+ / mdi
content: loser!jungkook, sub!jungkook, softdom!reader, afab reader, loss of virginity, smut, dry humping, handjob, penetrative sex, etc.
part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, extra
wc: 1894
a/n: this wasnt proofread at all so pls excuse any mistakes</3
masterlist
"o-oh, i don't think we should-"
"you don't want to?", you pouted at the wide eyed boy under you, hand on his chin as you made him look straight into your eyes.
"it's not that- it's just that, uh, i- i wouldnt want to be disrespectful or anything," he stumbled over his words, bunny teeth biting into his bottom lip.
you chuckled patronizingly, readjusting yourself on his lap and making him let out a low hiss at the movement.
"it's okay, bunny. we're just having fun, right? nothing wrong with it if we both want it, hmm?", your hands went down to his dress shirt, playing with the collar, undoing the very top button, "plus, we did make a deal, didn't we, bunny?"
oh, right. the deal.
jungkook's eyes almost rolled back at the implication of the agreement you had unexpectedly dropped onto his lap a few days ago.
your grade for your statistics class had somehow dropped below average somewhere along the semester, which caused your professor to recommend some tutoring to you, claiming that you'd likely not be able to graduate if you failed this class, as it was a requirement.
being in your senior year of college, failing was not a risk you could take, so you pleaded with your professor to assign you a tutor, whomever he deemed the smartest. that's when jungkook came into the picture.
by all means, jungkook could easily be described as a loser. his only friends were fellow members of the anime club, taehyung and jimin, equally as virginal as himself. more than anything, jungkook was just incredibly socially awkward, leading him to a life of loserdom as he made no friends and zero good impressions in life. this led him to dedicate all his efforts to school and give up on any social endeavors.
when the professor had asked him to tutor one of his lower-graded students, jungkook had no issue with it. he was offered extra credit if he did so, so it just seemed like a win-win situation to him. it wasnt until jungkook was told it'd be you he'd be tutoring that he began to have a problem with it.
now, jungkook didn't know you, he simply knew of you. so what if he had a crush on you? he didn't need to know the ins and outs of your personality to be into you.
except he kind of did.
to be quite frank, jungkook had a slight obsession with you ever since meeting you at orientation a few years ago. his friends were aware of his crush on you, always teasing him for taking the same classes you did just to get a glimpse of you whenever he could.
how did he find out your schedule? as ashamed as he was to admit it, he had wrongfully used his power as an administrative assistant on campus. he knew he wasnt supposed to, but he couldnt help in looking up your name and saving your schedule for future use.
unfortunately, jungkook never did anything other than coordinate your schedules. he was far too shy to even make eye contact with you, having never even introduced himself to you.
and now he had to tutor you. alone in your room as you sat side by side.
at least that was what he had pictured, not this. not you catching onto his crush immediately and proposing you pay him back for his efforts in the form of taking his virginity.
he could've sworn he almost had a heart attack when you'd shamelessly suggested it, somehow clocking both his crush and his virginal state within twenty minutes of your first session.
that session had ended quickly after that, with jungkook sheepishly accepting with a desperate nod and receiving a chaste kiss on his cheek as a goodbye.
and now you straddled him while he sat on your bed, hands shyly holding onto your hips.
"y-yeah, the deal," he breathed through his nose, mentally preparing himself for whatever you'd do to him. he'd take anything you gave him.
you grinned at him, lowering your head to kiss at his neck, making him immediately sigh in pleasure. he could feel the stickiness of your lipgloss leaving its mark on his neck, but he didnt care. he wished the marks could stay forever.
nibbling at his neck, you made some longer-lasting marks, making him groan as his fingers dug into your pajama-clad hips. that's when your lips made their way back up, catching his own on his first kiss ever.
he knew he might've been awkward in how he kissed, but you didn't seem to mind it, taking his jaw in your hand and tilting his head so you could lick into his mouth. his soul left him at that moment, with his tongue far too desperate in its movement while yours remained slow and sensual. despite how messy he was, you still moaned against his lips, beginning to grind your hips into his own.
"a-ah, that's ... fuck," he breathed out.
"you like how that feels, bunny?" you whispered into his mouth, "just wait til you feel my pussy,"
this time his eyes did roll back. the mere thought of you wrapped around him made him want to rip his hair out in desperation, almost unable to wait until you have yourself to him.
you continued to suckle on his tongue, making him grow more and more frustrated by the second. your hands eventually came to fully unbutton his shirt, removing it before beginning to feel up his chest and arms, gasping into his mouth when his own arms wrapped around you and brought you closer.
jungkook felt his mind cloud as you ground against him, convinced that if he didn't get more from you, he'd lose his mind. fortunately for him, no begging was necessary for you to give him something that'd have his breath catching in his throat and his tent growing even harder.
he pathetically followed your lips when you pulled away, though he sat in complete awe upon realizing the reason why you'd pulled away in the first place. suddenly the sight of your breasts became the most pressing matter in jungkook's life. his breath stopped and his heart raced, making him feel like he'd pass out if he even dared make contact with the newly revealed skin.
yet his reaction did not prevent you from grabbing his hands and placing them on your breasts, guiding him so he'd squeeze and play with them.
"o-oh, fuck. they're so ... so fucking soft," he whimpered, "so pretty and ... shit, c-can i ... can- can i play with them?", he pleaded, eyes never leaving your swollen buds as his hands hesitantly ran over your breasts.
he hoped you knew what he meant by play, because he was far too embarrassed to properly word his desire.
luckily for him, you were just so nice and so pretty and so so smart that you understood, removing his hands and guiding his face to your breasts, pressing them together so he could rub his head against them, nuzzling his nose into the skin as be groaned a gruttal groan. his shy tongue came out to lick at them just moments later, licking over your nipples all while he whined and cried as if he was the one receiving the stimulation.
at some point your hands snuck between the two of you, sneaking beneath his pants and grabbing onto his cock. you jerked him as he lost himself to the supple skin of your breasts, letting out breathy whines into your skin while his hands tightly held onto you.
as pathetic as he knew he must've looked, he didn't care. he'd wanted you for years, and suddenly he had you in his arms, willing to let him do anything he wanted? any social filters within him left him, letting his unending desire for you take over no matter how embarrassed he would be at his desperate behavior after the fact.
you let him play with your tits for a while, letting out the prettiest sighs of pleasure as he got his fill of you, eventually pulling him away so you could kiss him again. despite being out of breath, he kissed you back with everything he had, now more able to match your pace.
"bunny, wanna ride you," you pulled away with a pretty pout, letting go of his dick.
"p-please. yes, i- yes," he stammered, hands coming down to touch at his clothed cock out of reflex.
giggling at his desperation, you attempted to get up, only to be stopped by jungkook's grabby hands as he whined at you not to let go. grabbing his arms, you reminded him you needed to take off your shorts, making him get an embarrassed look on his face at the realization.
he got up to take off his own pants, sitting back down and pulling you to him the moment you'd stripped. once more, you giggled at how badly he clearly wanted you, pulling him into yet another kiss.
"i'm gonna sit on it now, okay, bunny?", you breathed against him as you lifted yourself to line him up.
jungkook didn't trust his voice to not let out yet another string of desperate pleas, so he simply nodded, taking a deep breath to prepare himself.
but nothing could prepare him for the warmth of your cunt, nor for how tightly it wrapped around his cock, taking all air out of him. he couldnt help the whimpers of desperation that came out of his mouth when you first started bouncing against him, tightening every so often just to get a reaction out of him.
burying his head in your neck, he babbled nonsense against you, incapable of halting his pathetic noises enough to hear your own pretty moans.
after some time, you grabbed onto one of his hands, leading it between the two of you and guiding him, "play with my clit, bunny," you blindly guided him until he finally found your clit, following your instructions of rubbing it all while your bouncing never seized
and god, had that been a mistake.
you got impossibly tighter, dragging your nails down his back and crying his name in the prettiest gasps ever heard by man. he knew he'd meet his end like this, far sooner than he wanted. but he was comforted in knowing that your orgasm was close too, catching onto your pleas to cum with you.
muttering constant praise towards you, jungkook's orgasm took over him as your own arrived, making him deliver endless thank you's while your speed fastened and your rhythm lost all its sense.
"t-thank you, oh, fuck. thank you ... so fucking good, it's- it's so good. oh, thank you ..."
you immediately fell onto each other when your highs had gone down, equally out of breath. being the sweet girl jungkook always knew you to be, he hummed in contentment when you held onto him, cuddling into him in a loving manner and playing with his hair.
if you weren't careful, he'd probably fall in love with you even more than he already had.
he only broke the silence after a few minutes of cuddling, still slightly out of breath.
"do you- do you still wanna go over your statistics homework?"
you laughed, nuzzling further into him, "maybe tomorrow, bunny."
#bts imagine#bts fanfic#bts scenario#bts oneshot#bts smut#bts x reader#jungkook scenario#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook imagine#jungkook oneshot
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I am Catherine Croft. I am a Statistics Homework Help Expert at statisticshomeworkhelper.com. I hold a PhD. in Statistics from, the University of Central Florida, USA. I have been helping students with their homework for the past 10 years. I solve assignments related to Statistics. Visit statisticshomeworkhelper.com or email [email protected]. You can also call on +1 (315) 557-6473 for any assistance with Statistics Assignments.
#statistics homework help#statistics assignment help#higher education#studytips#homework#students#university#tutor#Probability Assignment Help
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— sweet and spicy [m] | ksj.
◦ summary ↠ studying with your tutor should be simple, but distractions can lead to unexpected lessons. who knew cramming for exams could get this... heated? (requested by anon)
◦ pairing ↠ seokjin x reader
◦ word count ↠ 5.9k
◦ genre ↠ fluff, smut
◦ content warning(s) ↠ tutor!seokjin, student!reader, suggestive/explicit content, dirty talk, penetrative sex, ejaculation, f. and m. orgasm, oral sex, a lot of making out, unprotected sex, handjob, tit sucking
a/n: this is for the anon that requested a oneshot with seokjin and his lovely lips <3 ik you said kinda spicy but i accidentally made it very spicy lol, hope you don't mind!
masterlist
The clock on the library wall ticked in perfect sync with your growing anxiety. You had been staring at the same problem for ten minutes, the numbers on the page blurring together into a mess of indecipherable hieroglyphics.
“I’m going to fail,” you muttered under your breath, slumping further into your seat.
Your professor’s voice from last week echoed in your head: “You should really consider a tutor. It might help clear up some of the confusion.”
And now, here you were, waiting for your supposed savior to arrive and pull you from the depths of statistical despair.
The door creaked open, and you glanced up just in time to see him step inside.
“Sorry I’m late,” the newcomer said, setting his bag on the table with a soft thud. “The café line was longer than I thought.”
He was tall, dressed in a cozy gray sweater that looked as soft as a cloud, and his black-rimmed glasses perched perfectly on the bridge of his nose. But what truly caught your attention—against your better judgment—were his lips. They looked… soft. Pink. Kissable, even.
“I’m Seokjin,” he said, his voice warm and smooth. He offered a smile, and oh, that just made it worse. His lips curved in the kind of way that could make angels weep.
You snapped out of it, suddenly realizing he was waiting for you to introduce yourself. “Oh! Uh, hi. I’m—um—Y/N.”
He nodded, pulling out a notebook and pen. “Alright, so what’s giving you trouble?”
“Everything,” you admitted, gesturing dramatically at your textbook.
Seokjin laughed, the sound light and easy, but your eyes betrayed you and flicked to his mouth. The way his lips moved when he laughed—it was almost hypnotic. You mentally slapped yourself. Focus. You’re here to pass this class, not ogle your tutor.
“Okay, let’s start simple,” he said, flipping through your textbook until he found a page filled with diagrams and formulas. “Here’s a problem. Walk me through how you’d solve it.”
You nodded, trying to focus on the numbers. But Seokjin leaned closer to point something out on the page, and suddenly, your brain short-circuited. His lips were so close you could see the faintest shine of lip balm.
“So, what do you think?” he asked, looking at you expectantly.
You blinked. “Huh?”
He tilted his head. “The problem?”
“Oh, uh…” You scrambled to come up with something that didn’t sound ridiculous. “Yeah, I… totally get it now. Thanks!”
His brows furrowed, but the corners of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to laugh. “Really? Because you just wrote the wrong formula entirely.”
Your face flushed. “Oh. Right. I was just… testing you?”
Seokjin laughed again, the sound sending your heart racing. “Sure you were. Don’t worry, I’ll explain it again.”
By the third time Seokjin explained the problem, you had made some progress. But honestly? Your brain was running on fumes.
"See? It's not that bad," he said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin. "You’re getting the hang of it.”
You managed a weak smile, still hyper-aware of the way his lips moved with every word. How was it possible to explain statistics and look that good doing it? It should’ve been illegal.
"Yeah, sure," you replied, tapping your pen against your notebook to distract yourself. "I mean, I still hate it, but at least it makes… slightly more sense now."
Seokjin chuckled, his shoulders shaking just enough to make his sweater shift in the most distracting way. You were about to tell yourself to get it together when he suddenly leaned forward again, his elbow propped on the table and his chin resting on his hand.
"So," he said casually, "why did you really sign up for tutoring? You don't seem like the type to give up easily."
You froze. Was he teasing you? His tone was light, but his eyes held genuine curiosity.
"Um," you stalled, trying to come up with a reasonable answer that didn’t involve your professor practically begging you to get help. "I guess I just… wanted to make sure I didn’t fail? You know, for my GPA."
He nodded thoughtfully, and for a moment, you thought you’d gotten away with it.
"Fair enough," he said. But then his lips quirked into a smirk. "But you might want to stop zoning out so much during our sessions if you really want that GPA to survive."
Your face burned. "I don’t—" You cut yourself off, realizing how defensive you sounded. "I’m not zoning out."
"Really?" he said, tilting his head. "Because every time I look up, you’re staring at me like I just said something in Greek."
"Maybe it’s because statistics is Greek," you shot back, desperate to steer the conversation away from your very obvious distraction.
He laughed again, and this time, it was louder, filling the quiet library room. His laughter wasn’t polished or quiet; it was unfiltered, almost boyish, and far too contagious.
“Well, maybe I should start explaining in actual Greek,” he teased, closing your textbook with a soft thud. “Or we could call it a day. You’re making progress, but your brain looks like it’s about to overheat.”
You opened your mouth to protest but realized he wasn’t wrong. “Fine,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “But next time, you’re bringing snacks. Brain fuel and all that.”
Seokjin raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a smirk. “You’re really bold for someone who just admitted to hating this entire subject.”
“And yet,” you shot back, gathering your things, “you’re still tutoring me. So, who’s the real fool here?”
His laughter bubbled up again, softer this time, and you felt a small swell of pride at having made him laugh. It was quickly replaced by a flutter of nerves when he reached over to tap the corner of your notebook.
“Same time next week?” he asked, his voice a little quieter.
“Yeah,” you said, suddenly feeling warm under his gaze. “Thanks, Seokjin.”
He smiled, a soft, almost shy thing, and nodded. “Anytime.”
The following week, you found yourself looking forward to tutoring. Not because of the subject (God, no), but because of him. Every time you walked into the library and saw him waiting there, his glasses perched on his nose and a soft smile playing on his lips, it was like a little jolt of electricity.
This time, Seokjin greeted you with a coffee cup and a small bag of pastries.
“Fuel,” he said, holding them out. “For the overworked student who claims to hate stats but keeps showing up anyway.”
You blinked at him, surprised. “You actually brought snacks? You know I was just kidding.”
He shrugged, but there was a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “I thought it might help. Plus, bribery works wonders for focus.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”
“Only when I have pastries,” he replied, sliding one toward you.
For the next hour, you worked through problems, your frustration ebbing slightly thanks to the sugar and Seokjin’s patient explanations. Still, your focus wavered every now and then—especially when he leaned closer to check your work, his glasses slipping down his nose just enough to make your heart race.
“You’re doing better,” he said, his tone genuinely impressed. “See? I told you it wasn’t hopeless.”
“Maybe it’s your teaching,” you replied without thinking, and then froze when his ears turned pink.
“Maybe,” he said softly, his gaze flicking to yours for just a moment before he cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s try this one.”
But as the session went on, you noticed it wasn’t just you who seemed distracted. Seokjin kept fiddling with his pen, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than usual. When he leaned closer to point something out, you thought you caught him glance at your lips before quickly looking back at the page.
By the time the session ended, your heart was pounding, and you weren’t sure if it was from the stats or something else entirely.
The next morning, an email from Seokjin had come in.
Hey, just a heads-up—I’m not going to campus today, but if you still want to meet, we can do the session at my place. Let me know if that works.
It had taken you all of five seconds to reply.
That’s fine, I really need this session. Text me the address.
And now here you were, standing outside Seokjin’s apartment with your notebook clutched to your chest and a slight flutter of nerves in your stomach.
You knocked twice, and within seconds, the door swung open.
“Hey,” Seokjin said, his usual soft smile in place. He was dressed in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, and somehow he looked even better like this—comfortable and casual, with his hair slightly tousled as if he’d just run his hands through it.
“Come in,” he said, stepping aside to let you in.
His apartment was small but cozy, with warm lighting, a neatly arranged bookshelf, and a faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. There was a laptop open on the coffee table and a few notebooks stacked beside it.
“You didn’t have to bring all your stuff,” he said, eyeing the books tucked under your arm.
“I didn’t know what to expect,” you admitted, setting your things down on the table. “But I’m not taking any chances with finals week coming up in a couple weeks.”
He chuckled, gesturing toward the couch. “Well, you’re in luck. I even made coffee. Or tea, if that’s more your thing.”
You sat down, trying not to notice how close he was when he joined you. The couch wasn’t exactly huge, and the way his knee brushed against yours when he shifted sent a jolt through you.
“Okay,” he said, pulling a notebook onto his lap. “Let’s start with the practice problems I sent you last week.”
At first, it was just like any other session—him explaining concepts, you trying to keep up. But the proximity was impossible to ignore. Every time he leaned over to point at your notebook or correct something, his voice seemed lower, softer, and his presence far too distracting.
“Almost,” Seokjin murmured, his hand brushing yours as he reached for your pencil. “You just forgot to divide by the total here.”
You froze, watching the way his fingers wrapped around the pencil. They were long and elegant, and when he looked up, his face was only inches from yours.
“Oh,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, the air between you felt heavier. You could see the faint pink on his ears again, the way his lashes fluttered just slightly when he blinked.
“Here,” he said, pulling back and clearing his throat. “Try it again.”
You nodded, forcing yourself to focus on the problem. But as the session went on, the tension only grew.
At one point, you leaned over to grab your eraser from the table, and when you straightened up, your shoulder brushed against his. It was such a small thing, but the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his hoodie lingered.
“Sorry,” you muttered, though you weren’t sure why.
“No, it’s fine,” he said quickly, his voice a little tighter than usual.
By the end of the session, you were both more relaxed—or at least pretending to be. The stack of practice problems had dwindled, and Seokjin leaned back against the couch, stretching his arms over his head with a groan.
“You’re actually getting good at this,” he said, his voice teasing but genuine. “See? Told you stats wasn’t impossible.”
“Only because you’re a good tutor,” you replied, surprising yourself with how easily the words came out.
Seokjin paused mid-stretch, his eyes meeting yours. There was something unreadable in his expression, but it disappeared quickly as he smiled.
“Thanks,” he said, sitting up again.
The conversation might’ve ended there, but then you noticed a small smudge of ink beside his cushiony lips—probably from when he’d been jotting down notes earlier.
“You’ve got…” You hesitated, gesturing vaguely at your own face. “Ink. Right there.”
“Where?” he asked, frowning as he touched his cheek, missing the spot entirely.
“Here,” you said, leaning forward without thinking. Your hand brushed against his jaw as you wiped at the smudge with your thumb, and you felt him go completely still under your touch.
When you realized what you were doing, you froze too, your eyes locking with his. His gaze flicked to your lips, and for a second, you thought he might close the distance between you.
“Got it,” you said quickly, pulling back and trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding.
“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice lower than before.
The rest of the session ended in a flurry of awkward goodbyes and hurried packing, but as you left his apartment, you couldn’t shake the memory of how close you’d been—or the way his lips had looked in that moment, soft and impossibly inviting.
After the first session at Seokjin’s apartment, the two of you fell into a new rhythm. Instead of meeting at the library, you started alternating between your places. It was more convenient, and though neither of you said it out loud, it felt… comfortable. Familiar. Like a natural evolution of whatever this was between you.
For your next session, Seokjin arrived a few minutes early, balancing a bag of takeout in one hand and his ever-present notebook in the other.
“You didn’t have to bring food,” you said, stepping aside to let him in.
He shrugged, setting the bag on your coffee table. “Consider it payment for making me leave the house on a Saturday.”
You rolled your eyes but smiled, sitting beside him on the couch. As the session began, you noticed how different it felt having him here, in your space. The way he looked so at ease, leaning back against your cushions, his long legs stretching out in front of him.
At one point, you got up to grab your water bottle, and when you came back, Seokjin had a mischievous grin on his face.
“Do you always study with a giant stuffed bear on your couch?” he teased, holding up the plushie you’d forgotten to hide.
Your face burned. “It’s comfortable, okay?”
“I’m not judging,” he said, his grin widening. “I’m just saying, you could’ve warned me I’d have competition.”
You groaned, grabbing the bear from him and tossing it aside. But the playful banter eased the tension, making the session feel more like hanging out than studying.
By the time you’d finished the practice problems, Seokjin stretched his arms over his head and let out a dramatic sigh.
“Okay, enough stats for one day. My brain is fried,” he declared.
“Yeah same,” you sighed before raising an eyebrow. “Is this how you treat all your students?”
“Only the ones who threaten to fail without me,” he shot back, smirking.
Your next session was set to be at your apartment again, with Seokjin arriving at your apartment looking as put-together as ever. You were already flustered—having barely managed to shove your laundry into a basket to make the place look semi-presentable.
"Don’t judge," you warned as he stepped in, glancing around your living room.
“I’m not,” he replied, amused. “I’ve seen worse.”
The session went smoothly enough, but at some point, Seokjin needed a pen.
"Do you have another one?" he asked, looking up from his notebook.
"Yeah, let me grab one!" you said, heading toward your desk.
Before you could, though, Seokjin leaned over the arm of the couch to grab your backpack—and froze, pulling out an article of clothing instead.
"Uh…" His voice trailed off as he held it up—a lacy, bright-colored bra that you’d obviously forgotten to hide.
You whipped around, horrified. “Oh my God, Seokjin, put that down!”
But instead of being embarrassed, he smirked, dangling the bra by one strap.
“Well,” he said, his tone teasing but his ears betraying him with a hint of redness, “I didn’t know tutoring came with such… unexpected discoveries.”
“Stop!” you yelped, lunging forward to snatch it from him.
He laughed, holding it just out of reach. “Is this what you’ve been distracted by during our sessions? Should I start dressing fancier to compete?”
“Seokjin, I swear—”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he relented, handing it back to you with a grin. But the way his eyes lingered on your flustered expression made your heart pound.
“Next time, I’m hiring a professional tutor,” you muttered, stuffing the bra into your laundry basket.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sure you will.”
A couple days later, Seokjin had invited you over again, this time for a movie. Although, if you were being honest with yourself, the movie was probably the last thing on either of your minds.
"Okay, so you’re telling me you’ve never seen this movie?" Seokjin asked, holding up the DVD case like it was a sacred relic.
“Not everyone’s a walking encyclopedia of rom-coms,” you shot back, leaning back against the armrest of his couch.
“It’s not just a rom-com,” he argued, waving the case in front of you like it was the most important thing on the planet. “It’s a classic. You’ll thank me later.”
With a dramatic sigh, you gave in, letting him pop the DVD into the player. Soon enough, you were both nestled comfortably on his couch, a bowl of popcorn between you.
The movie started off fine enough, but as it went on, your attention started to wander. Seokjin’s proximity—the feeling of his body so close to yours, the way his arm rested casually along the back of the couch, his knee brushing against yours whenever he shifted—was far more distracting than the plot.
The soft glow of the TV illuminated his face, casting gentle shadows across his features, making him look even more attractive. His lips, soft and slightly parted as he laughed at some of the jokes, became the sole object of your focus.
"You’re quiet," he murmured during a lull in the movie, glancing at you sideways with a teasing look.
"Just… paying attention," you mumbled, not daring to look at him.
"Are you, though?" he teased, shifting slightly to face you. "Because you’ve been staring at me for the past ten minutes."
Your face immediately heated up. “I have not!”
“Hmm,” he hummed, clearly enjoying your reaction. His smirk widened as he leaned in just a little closer, his face filling your vision. “You sure about that? I wouldn’t mind.”
Your breath caught in your throat as you couldn’t help but look at his lips. His voice had dropped a few notches, and his gaze softened, no longer playful but searching—waiting for something unspoken. The noise of the movie faded as the tension in the air between you two thickened, heavy and palpable.
“Seokjin,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.
“Yeah?” His voice was soft, but the way he looked at you—intent and steady—sent a shiver down your spine.
Your eyes darted to his lips for just a moment, and that was all it took. His playful smirk faded, and his expression shifted to something far more sincere, far more urgent. Slowly, his hand lifted, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face before lingering near your cheek, his touch light but warm.
Then, without a word, he closed the distance. His lips met yours in a kiss that started gentle, tentative, almost like a question. You froze for a split second, heart racing, but your body moved on instinct. Your hands gripped the front of his sweater, tugging him closer as the kiss deepened.
The movie continued in the background, but neither of you were paying attention anymore. Seokjin's hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you closer, his lips moving against yours with more urgency. You kissed him back, eager, your body instinctively pressing against his.
His thumb traced the curve of your jaw, then moved to your lips, caressing them softly before slipping back into the kiss. The sensation was intoxicating—electric. You could feel his heart racing against yours as his lips grew more demanding, his kisses coming faster, deeper.
The soft glow from the TV flickered across his features, making everything feel dreamlike, surreal, as if this moment wasn’t really happening. His hand slipped to your waist, pulling you toward him until your bodies were flush against each other. The heat of his chest, the firmness of his body, left you breathless as you melted into him.
Then, just as the kiss grew more heated, a dramatic swell of music from the movie blasted through the speakers, breaking the spell.
Seokjin pulled back slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours, eyes dark with desire. He glanced toward the screen, looking a little amused before turning back to you.
“We won’t be needing this anymore,” he murmured, his voice low as he reached for the remote, never breaking eye contact. The click of the TV turning off was the only sound in the room now, the sudden silence making everything feel more intense.
Before you could even process what had just happened, Seokjin leaned in again, his lips crashing into yours with renewed fervor. His hands found their way to your back, pulling you even closer, if that was even possible. His lips were hotter now, more demanding, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.
Your hands roamed up to his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt, before you slid your hands into his hair, tugging him closer. He groaned against your lips, his fingers digging into your back as the kiss deepened further, passion igniting between you. The sensation of his lips moving against yours—of his body pressing closer to yours—made your head spin.
You could feel his hands exploring your body, his fingertips brushing the curve of your side, making your breath hitch. His mouth never left yours, the kiss turning into something desperate, almost frantic, as if neither of you could wait any longer. Seokjin’s breath was shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you both lost yourselves in the kiss.
Your bodies were tangled in the soft cushions of the couch now, the world outside fading into oblivion. Every kiss, every touch, felt like an invitation to something more.
Seokjin finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing heavily. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice husky with desire, his thumb brushing along your jaw.
You nodded, trying to catch your breath. “I’m more than okay,” you whispered, your voice shaky but full of longing.
Seokjin’s eyes searched yours, his thumb still brushing along your jaw as if grounding himself in the moment. Just as you opened your mouth to say something, a glance at the clock over his shoulder made your heart drop.
“Oh my god,” you gasped, sitting up abruptly. “I have class in fifteen minutes!”
Seokjin blinked in surprise, then let out a soft laugh. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not!” you exclaimed, frantically gathering your scattered belongings.
He leaned back against the couch, arms draped casually along the cushions, watching you with a grin that made your heart race all over again. “You sure you don’t want to skip? I mean, we were in the middle of something really important.”
You shot him a glare, though the heat in your cheeks probably made it far less intimidating. “Nice try, Seokjin. I can’t fail this class because of you.”
“Fair,” he conceded, standing to walk you to the door. But as you reached for the doorknob, he tugged you back, planting a quick, heated kiss on your lips that left you breathless. “Hurry back when you’re done,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.
From that day on, a pattern emerged. Every time you came over—whether to study, watch a movie, or just hang out—the two of you would inevitably end up tangled together, lips locked and breaths mingling. It didn’t matter if it was before or after you hit the books; somehow, the boundaries between tutoring sessions and heated makeout sessions blurred until they were almost nonexistent.
It became your guilty pleasure, a secret routine that neither of you dared to acknowledge aloud. And then, finally, the day of the exam arrived.
You walked into the lecture hall with butterflies in your stomach and left with a grin you couldn’t contain. A 91! You had passed, and not just barely—you’d crushed it. The first thing you did after checking your grade was text Seokjin, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you told him the news.
His response was instant: Come over. We’re celebrating.
You didn’t need to be told twice. Within minutes, you were at his door, and before you could even step inside, Seokjin was pulling you into his arms, his lips crashing into yours.
“Congratulations,” he murmured against your lips, his voice warm and full of pride.
But there was no time for further words. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that sent sparks shooting down your spine. You barely registered the door closing behind you as the two of you stumbled into the apartment, too caught up in each other to care.
His hands roamed over your body with an urgency that made your heart race, slipping beneath your shirt to explore the bare skin underneath. You tugged at his hoodie, eager to feel more of him, and he obliged, pulling it off in one fluid motion before his lips found yours again.
This time, there was no stopping, no holding back. The couch cushions were a familiar backdrop as Seokjin pressed you down, his body warm and solid against yours. His kisses grew deeper as his fingers dipped beneath the hem of your shirt, his eyes flicking up to yours for permission. When you gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, he didn’t hesitate.
With a swift motion, he tugged your shirt up and over your head, tossing it onto the floor. His eyes darkened as they roamed over you, lingering on the lacy bra you’d decided to wear that day.
“Well, well,” he murmured, his tone teasing as his fingers ghosted over the edge of the fabric. “You wore this? Almost like you were expecting to celebrate.” he teased, his fingers grazing the edge of your lacy bra. His smirk was back, though it softened as he leaned in, brushing his lips against your collarbone.
“Shut up,” you managed, breathless and flustered, though the way your hands gripped his shoulders betrayed your eagerness.
Your face burned, and you tried to turn away, but his hand cupped your chin, gently guiding your gaze back to him. His grin widened, clearly enjoying your flustered state.
“I wasn’t—” you started, but he cut you off with a laugh.
“Relax,” he said, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I’m not complaining. In fact…” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I think it’s perfect.”
His mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, his hands sliding up your sides as he explored every inch of you. When his lips finally returned to yours, the kiss was deeper, hungrier, his body pressing against yours as if he couldn’t get close enough.
Your hands found their way to his shirt, tugging at the fabric until he got the hint and pulled it off. You couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you even closer.
“Still think I’m the one who expected this?” you teased, emboldened by his reaction.
Seokjin paused, his lips hovering over yours as he chuckled, low and rich. “Oh, I definitely did. But I’m glad you were prepared too.”
With that, he captured your lips again, the playful banter melting away as the moment grew even more heated. The air between you was thick with desire, every touch, every kiss igniting a fire that neither of you wanted to put out.
As the kiss deepened, Seokjin's hands roamed over your body, his fingers tracing the curves of your waist, the swell of your hips. Your own hands were just as busy, exploring the contours of his chest, the broadness of his shoulders.
The room around you melted away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the heat of the moment. The darkness was almost palpable, a living thing that wrapped itself around you, holding you close. You felt like you were drowning in Seokjin's eyes, those piercing brown orbs that seemed to see right through to your very soul.
And yet, even as you felt like you were losing yourself in him, you knew that this was exactly where you wanted to be. This was what you had been waiting for, what you had been hoping for all along.
Seokjin's lips left yours for a moment, and he gazed down at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "I want to see all of you," he whispered, his voice low and husky with desire. "I want to touch every inch of your skin."
You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as he spoke, but you couldn't help the way your body responded to his words. You nodded slowly, and Seokjin's eyes flashed with excitement.
With gentle fingers, he reached behind you and unfastened the clasp on your bra. The straps slid down your arms, and Seokjin's eyes widened as he took in the sight of your bare skin. He reached out a hand and cupped one breast in his palm, his thumb tracing circles around the nipple until it hardened beneath his touch.
As Seokjin's hands continued to caress your breasts, his mouth descended upon them, his plump lips wrapping around one nipple with a gentle reverence. The softness and fullness of his lips were almost distracting, making you wonder how something so visually appealing could also feel so incredible. He kissed the nipple softly, his lips molding around it as he sucked gently.
He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his lips tracing circles around the nipple before wrapping around it again. The sensation was exquisite, and you felt yourself arching your back, pushing into his touch as he continued to kiss and suckle your breasts.
After lavishing attention on your breasts, Seokjin's mouth began to kiss down your stomach, his lips tracing a path of fire along your skin. With each kiss, you felt anticipation build within you. He teased you with each touch of his lips, getting closer and closer to the heat between your legs but never quite reaching it. The suspense was deliciously agonizing.
Finally, Seokjin returned to your lips, kissing them with a fervor that left you breathless. His tongue danced against yours as he deepened the kiss. He didn't stop there; his mouth wandered to your neck, leaving behind a trail of hickeys as he sucked and nibbled on the sensitive skin.
"Your lips are so fucking perfect," you whispered into his ear, running your fingers over their full shape in awe. "They feel as good as they look."
Seokjin chuckled low in his throat but didn't stop kissing and sucking on your neck. After a few moments of this sensual assault on your senses, he pulled back slightly and whispered against your earlobe.
"Enough of my lips; time to see what yours can do."
With that tantalizing promise hanging in the air between you like an unfinished challenge waiting for resolution - Seokjin stood up from where they had been sitting together on couch pulling both pants & boxers all way down letting them pool at feet before taking seat once more now fully exposed
You got onto your knees between his legs spread wide and proceeded to give him a blow job. You began by licking his quivering length, taking its head into your mouth. You started sucking gently, gradually increasing suction pressure and movement speed.
Your hand rose to begin stroking his shaft up and down while continuing to suck on it, your fingers wrapped tightly around base, moving in the opposite direction of your head bobbing. You made sure to pay special attention to the ridge just beneath where the head of his cock meets the shaft, knowing the extra sensitivity there.
As you continued to stroke and suck, Seokjin's eyes remained locked on yours, besides when he'd occasionally draw his head back in rawr pleasure. His hands rested on your head, gently guiding the pace but letting you set the rhythm. The sensation of his fingers in your hair, combined with the taste and feel of him in your mouth, was incredibly erotic.
You could feel his excitement building, his breathing getting heavier, and his muscles tensing under your touch. Encouraged by his reactions, you deepened the suction slightly, moving your head in a steady bobbing motion while your hand continued to stroke the base of his shaft.
Seokjin's moans filled the air, soft at first but growing louder as he neared climax. His hands tightened in your hair, not pulling but applying gentle pressure as if urging you on without wanting to disrupt the perfect rhythm you'd established.
Just as it seemed like he was about to come, Seokjin suddenly pulled back, his chest heaving with exertion. "Not yet," he whispered hoarsely, "I want to come inside you."
He gently helped you up from your knees and led you back to the couch. This time, as he sat down, he pulled you onto his lap so that you were straddling him. The position was intimate and vulnerable at the same time.
With deft hands, Seokjin guided himself into you, filling a void that had been aching for fulfillment since this encounter began. As he entered deeper into you, your warmth enveloped around him fully. Everything else faded away, leaving only the sensations between two people completely lost within another.
The movement started slow but was soon quickened, as he grew more desperate. The two of you lost track of the time or your surroundings, solely existing in the moment of moving bodies seeking release.
As the movements became more rhythmic and intense, the connection between you and Seokjin deepened. Every thrust, every sensation, seemed to be amplified.
Your hands were on his shoulders, his around your waist, holding you close as you moved together. Seokjin's eyes locked onto yours, filled with raw desire. Yet, there was also a tenderness there, a care that made this feel like more than just a physical act. It was as if he was seeing into your very soul, and you into his.
The pace quickened, the intensity building until it felt like everything was going to shatter apart at any moment. But instead of fear or anxiety, there was only anticipation - a desperate longing for that release.
And then, in an instant that seemed to stretch out forever, it happened. Seokjin's body tensed beneath yours, his muscles hardening as he came inside you. The sensation triggered your own climax, waves of pleasure crashing over you like a stormy sea.
For what felt like an eternity, you just sat there, wrapped in each other's arms as the aftershocks of pleasure continued to ripple through your bodies. It wasn't until your breathing began to slow that reality started seeping back in - the feel of the couch beneath you, the sound of your heartbeats slowly synchronizing back into separate rhythms.
Seokjin's arms loosened their hold on you slightly but didn't let go. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed your forehead softly before whispering against your skin.
"Looks like all our hard work paid off. Congrats on passing, beautiful."
a/n: wahoo! feel free to leave feedback, hope you all enjoyed!
masterlist
#bts angst#bts fics#bts fanfic#bts fluff#bts smut#bts fanfiction#bts series#jin bts#jin smut#jin fluff#seokjin smut#seokjin fluff#seokjin angst#jin angst#seokjin fanfic#jin fanfiction#jin fics#seokjin fics#bts requests#seokjin x reader#jin x reader#bts au#bts au fanfic#bts fic#bts x reader#bts x you#bts scenarios#jin scenarios#jin oneshot#jin oneshots
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Kinktober Day 13: Size - Tutor!Miguel x AFAB!Reader 🎃
can you tell i hate my math class this sem ?? :D
CW: unspecified age gap (reader is in college miguel is in grad school), trauma inducing stats vocabulary, piv (unprotected don’t be stupid), creampie (don’t be stupid), mean miguel, harsh grabbing, fingering (kinda), finger sucking, general size difference.
18+ MDNI
It was getting late, you and your roommates Machi and Gale having dinner with you. You huffed, slumping in the chair you sat on.
“This is such bullshit, I’ve been stuck on this problem for like half an hour already. Nothing’s clicking.” You pushed your dinner aside and looked at Gale for reassurance. She tilted her head at you with a raised brow.
“Girl, you know damn well I’m not getting it either. Just call it quits for tonight, it's not due for another two days.” She said, sipping a chilled can of coke.
“Oh, come on. Neither of us are understanding this shit. I mean, this symbol looks like a backwards three! I miss when math used to just have numbers,” you complained, squinting at the statistics homework in front of you.
“That looks ridiculous,” Machi laughed. “Never have I been more glad to be an arts major.” She said, getting up to put her dish away.
“If it bothers you that much, why don’t you just visit the tutoring lab? I think they’re still open.” Gale said, grabbing your dish and following Machi to the sink.
“Really?” You asked, checking your watch. 8 pm.
“Hey, we pay thousands of dollars in tuition, okay? If they can’t stay open or help when students need it what's the point in taking all that money from us?” Gale shrugged. You sighed, standing up from your chair.
“Well, I guess I better get moving if I want to make it to the tutoring center before 10. Let me know if you guys need anything while I’m out.” You grabbed your keys and left the apartment after grabbing your bag and slipping your shoes back on.
_____________________________________________________
You arrived at the building, glass doors sliding open as you walked through them, the cold air conditioning giving you goosebumps. You walked over to the sign in sheet, looking through available tutors for the next hour or so.
“Crap…” You sighed, looking through the sheets. It seemed like you needed an appointment before hand, at least electronically.
There was the sound of laughter down the hall, you turned your head towards the sound. There was a much larger man along with a guy who seemed about your age. You recognized the shorter individual from your statistics class.
“Well, I’m glad we could get your problem figured out.” The tall man said, a big hand patting the younger guy's back heavily.
“Yeah, it only took us all night.” More laughter.
“Hey, if its due in two days all night is nothing.” The tall, tanned man said. He was massive, you could practically see his muscles bulging underneath his white buttoned shirt. His chocolate hair slicked back, a few strands messily framing his face. You were in a trance when his almost red eyes met yours. You felt your face flush.
“U-Uh, Hey! You’re in my statistics class arent you?” You asked the shorter guy, desperately avoiding the older mans gaze. The shorter guy said your name questioningly, you nodded.
“Yeah, thats me.” You said, clutching your bag tighter. “So… you got help with the homework?” You asked, motioning to the taller man.
“Oh yeah, this is Miguel.” He said, patting Miguels back.
“Hi, nice to meet you.” You said, grabbing his large hand and shaking it. You felt your palms become sweatier, his hand practically enveloping yours. “I didn’t see your name under the statistics sign up sheet.” You said, voice almost trembling.
“Well as a grad student my major is scientific research so that's why I’m not under statistics.” He said, a slight smirk across his face, his grip on your hand becoming tighter.
“O-oh,” you said softly.
“But I use statistics in almost everything I do, so I can help out with any problems you’ve got if you need it.”
“Miguel’s not a bad tutor, it only took us so long to finish cause I haven’t shown up to class in weeks.” Your classmate laughed. “I’ve got to get out of here but thanks for your help, man.” He waved before walking out the sliding doors into the dark night.
You and Miguel turned to each other, you suddenly felt very nervous.
“So… Would you… tutor me?” You asked, rubbing your arms for warmth.
“Well, it's not quite 10 yet and I don’t have any other sign-ups, so why not?” He shrugged, walking down the hall with you following after him.
You two walked down the hall, reaching a small study room at the end of it.
“This is the room I reserved for the night, so don’t worry about anyone coming in here super late and trying to steal it from us.” He said, opening it up for you to walk through.
You walked into the room, a table with a few chairs in the center with a whiteboard behind it. It seemed fine to you as you walked in, sitting down on a chair, slightly taken aback when it rolled underneath your weight. You looked down and noticed wheels at the feet of the chair. You looked up again when you heard the door shut, Miguel locking it behind him.
_______________________________________________
“And that's why your z score is going to be 20.99. Does that make sense?” He asked. You were fucked.
The whole time you were supposed to be paying attention you were completely distracted by his being. He sat next to you, his large frame practically caging you in between him and the desk. He was everywhere, and if you weren’t staring directly at the paper, you were scared you were going to faint. You nodded, eyes looking down at the problem, refusing to tear away from the mathematical mess you made.
“Yeah…”
“Then tell me how you got it.” He said, deep voice rumbling in his big chest.
“Well, first you uh…” You circled a random number in the world problem then looked up at him with helpless eyes. He raised a brow.
“You start with the standard deviation?” He asked, clearly unamused.
“Well… You definitely use it somewhere…” You said half joking. Miguel was still unamused. He sighed deeply, throwing his head into his hand.
“I’ll explain it one more time, okay?” He said, grabbing the pencil from your hand. His hand brushed against yours and held your pencil as if it were a toothpick to him. “So, we’ve identified the mew, right?” He asked, underlining the foreign symbol.
“Yeah…” You said, asking yourself what the fuck is a mew?
You were determined to stay focused but that man made it difficult. You turned to look at him while his eyes were fixed onto the paper, scribbling out equations and typing into your calculator- which he also made look puny in his grasp. You watched him as he spoke, the way his soft lips moved as he talked, revealing sharp canines every now and then between words. You felt your face flush, entranced by his presence. You eyed his large shoulders, following them down to his massive arms. You looked back up at his face, admiring his features while he was so deep in thought. He looked down at you.
“So now we just divide and… hey?” he said almost harshly. “Are you paying attention?” He asked in a snarky tone. You felt your face drop.
“I… um…”
“Distracted again?” He tossed the pencil onto the surface of the table, muscular arms crossing as he almost glared at you.
“I’m sorry.” You felt exhausted, covering your face with your hands in defeat. You felt like crying.
“Maybe if you weren’t so focused on undressing me with your eyes and more focused on these problems, you’d understand this shit by now.” He grunted. You stilled, face buried deep into your palms before you peered at him through between your fingertips.
“W…What?” You asked, looking at his almost red eyes.
“I said what I said.” Miguel's voice was low, he grabbed your seat and pulled it towards him, the wheels moving you with ease. You felt your core tighten, as your face continued to burn hot, regardless of the air conditioning.
Miguel's eyes practically violated you, staring deep past your own and into your soul before looking you up and down, clearly enjoying how you cowered.
“That pretty little head not used to thinking this hard?” he asked low in your ear. You shuddered, hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention. “Pathetic.”
He grabbed your waist with his large hands, daring to crush you between his palms. He slowly stood up from his chair, face inches away from yours. You took that as invitation enough and crashed your lips into his, those soft lips felt even better than you imagined, a whimper escaping your lips as his grip increased. He pulled you off of the chair and slammed you onto the table, papers flying and pens scattering around you. You let out a grunt as the air escaped your lungs from the impact.
“I’m taking time out of my night to try and teach you this shit and you can't even meet me halfway and try to learn it?” He huffs yanking down your frumpy sweats to your ankles. You kicked them off, laying on the table in your tight shirt and panties.
“I-I’m sorry, you're just so-” he cut you off with two thick fingers plunging into your mouth, you gagged when they hit the back of your throat. He smirked, watching you drag your tongue around the knuckles of his fingers.
“That ought to shut you up.” He ran a finger from his other hand to your clothed cunt, you moaned around his thick digits when he caressed your clit. Your hips moved on their own accord, grinding against his large hand. “Would you look at that? I didn’t know they accepted whores into this school.” Miguel hummed, voice smooth like honey and deep like an ocean.
His single finger moved to where your pussy and thigh met, yanking aside your black cotton panties to reveal your wet cunt, which clenched around nothing at the sudden cold air.
“Jesus… I bet you were thinking about this all night, huh?” Miguel teased, the calloused tip of his finger just barely grazing along your seeping hole, spreading the warm slick higher and higher up your folds until he could smear it along your sensitive bud, eliciting another moan from behind his drooly fingers.
“Needy, aren’t we?” Miguel withdrew his fingers from your mouth while his other hand unzipped his dress pants, the metal of his belt buckle clanking together as he pulled it out of its loops. The belt hit the floor with a small thud and with his drool-soaked fingers he freed his massive cock and ran the slippery fingers up and down his shaft.
Miguel tore your underwear off of you, as if it was like taking a sticker off a piece of fruit. You felt yourself drip down your thighs, unsure whether or not it was okay to touch yourself while watching this Greek god of a man pleasure himself with your spit, watching your tense cunt beg him to stuff it.
“Like what you see?” He asked, slipping his finger into his mouth and moaning long and deep when he tasted your sweet slick on his tongue. You nodded vigorously, grabbing one of your tits to entice him even further. “Why don’t you take that off while we’re ahead?”
You quickly tossed off your shirt and bra, completely naked on the desk. Miguel softly laughed, watching how nicely you obeyed him.
“You're too easy, y’know that?” With a few more pumps to his shaft, he harshly grabbed one of your thighs and spread your legs even further, admiring your wet pussy.
The moan you two let out when he put his cock inside of you could've been heard by the whole building if it hadn't been well past 10 pm and everyone had gone for the day. His girthy member dared to split you in half, the sheer size of him was far too much to handle, especially all at one. We watched with pleasure as your breathy moans turned into agonized whimpers the further he drove into you. When he had finally gone balls deep inside of you, there was an obvious cock bulge deep inside of you as he stretched out your pussy wonderfully.
“M-Miguel…” You sighed, a bead of sweat rolling down your temple.
“Oh, so this can keep your attention but me slaving away on your homework can’t?” He smugly asked, pulling out before slamming into you with a grunt. You wailed, scratching the hard surface of the desk underneath you, crumpling stray pieces of scratch paper into your palm while arching your back.
Miguel started at a rough pace, making room out of your tight pussy for his intimidating cock, juices slicking the shaft of his member, and sounds of your wet pussy gushing paired with the creaking of the table filled the room, moans, and mewls adding to euphonious music of your fucking.
“So fucking tight… so fucking tiny… I bet I could fold you like a pretzel,” He said amusingly, grabbing the backs of your thighs and pushing the fronts of them against your chest. You cried out loud, new depth being explored by his commanding dick while he used you for his pleasure.
With his massive hands, he spread his fingers out, his thumbs on the backs of your thighs and his four fingers on the small of your back, grabbing onto you so he could bring you up and down on his deep thrusts.
You were seeing stars at this point, scared your arousal would drip onto your homework papers and soil all the progress you’ve made. But it didn’t matter anymore when you threw your head back onto the table and shook in his hands, pussy clenching around his meaty cock and milking him for his own cum.
“Ngh- What did I say? Easy…” He moaned, thrusting inside of you a few more times before he shot a huge load inside of your tiny pussy, cum leaking out between where your sexes met and rolling down your asscheeks.
You lay there on the table, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Miguel watched entranced as your shared cum leaked out of you, finger fucking it back inside of you, wondering if it he could stuff it all back in. He quickly realized your overstimulated cunt couldn’t take it as tears welled in your eyes.
“Sorry,” He said, removing his fingers. “Now uh… where were we?” He picked up the page of work, then his face dropped, looking at the splotch of cum that had spilled out on accident.
“On second thoughts… you might want to turn this in online.”
Tag List: @fuckmachine42069 @pasdasin @alien-girl-violet
Next: Cloning - Kakashi x Reader
#atsv miguel#miguel x you#miguel o'hara#miguel smut#miguel x reader#miguel o’hara fanfiction#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara x you#tutor!miguel o’hara#kinktober#shaggys bitches kinktober#kinktober 2023#miguel o’hara x y/n#hot girls are bad at math#smut#miguel spiderverse#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara x y/n#spiderman 2099
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Feeling stressed about finals? 📚 📝 Here's a tip: take a break. Go for a walk, watch a movie, or do something else that you enjoy. Taking a break will help you relax and de-stress, so you can come back to your studies refreshed and ready to focus. 📖 🎥
#math homework help service#get math answers#statistics tutor online#excel homework help#mathematics answers#excel paper writing help#dissertation writing help#dissertation writing service#Assignment experts#best assignment expert#essay tips#student tips#study tips#writing tips#tips and tricks#tips for writers#tips#life hacks
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Hiiii! I really adore your writing and I’ve literally binged all of it 💕💕💕💕
I was wondering if you could do a story on Loser/Nerd! König kinda like tutor but it’s a girl who asks for help who generally has a crush on him and adores him and she’s all sweet and kind to him. Like all lovey dovey and affectionate!
I hope you have a good day!!!!💕💕💕💕
Thank you!! 💖💖
Nerd!König X Soft!Reader (fem)
MDNI🔞
Master List
>cw: fem/afab, oral, p in v, v-card loss
2.5k word count
📖
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You sit in class and look over at König, the tall Austrian student that recently moved here. His blonde hair is always unkept and his eyes tired. There is an aura about him that pulls you to him like a magnet. While he tries to appear stoic and mysterious, you see him casually peering over at you. A curious look in his eyes as he analyzes you.
Both of your eyes meet for a split second before he spins his head, looking back at the whiteboard. Your gaze lingers before you look straight ahead as well. Once class ends, König stands quickly, his long legs assisting him in fleeing the lecture hall quickly. You watch, blinking, as he fades away into the hall.
It’s right after statistics class, so you knew he’d be going to the library to work on the assignments we’ve been given; assignments you need his help with. That’s not the only reason you want to find him though…
With one deep breath, you decide to go through with your plan and approach König. You walk casually though campus as you mentally hyper yourself up. Other than sharing glances, you’ve not talked to König. What if you simply forget how to speak?
König sits with his air pods in while he works on equations using his iPad. Despite being nearly seven feet tall, he tries his hardest to go unnoticed; sitting in the back corner of the library. He is unaware that he has eyes on him, your eyes.
His sky-blue eyes look up and meet yours as you approach him. König looks around. Maybe you’re meaning to approach someone else? Even lost in confusion, he can’t resist but to glance at your body as you walk. You’re shaped perfectly, exactly his type. The fluid motion of your curves and breasts bouncing pulls him in. Then you stop right in front of him. With one hand, he takes an air pod out and places it back into the case.
“Hi!” You struggle to conceal the delight on your face as you finally get to speak to König.
“H-hallo.” König looks confused. Are you going to yell at him for always checking you out?
His accent is so dreamy. You think to yourself.
“I’m y/n. We have the same math class together.”
“Ja, I know who you are.” He sits back, wondering what this is about. The struggle to keep his gaze above the neck is real.
Without saying anything, you pull a chair next to him and sit. He looks down at your small size as you sit there. The tension in the air between you two is so thick you could feel it consume the surrounding room both.
“I was wondering um—” A rush of nervousness floods through you. “I know you’re amazing at statistics. Incredibly smart.”
Your sentence pauses as you take a moment to get lost in his eyes. The way you are gazing at him is as if you’ve already fallen in love. His cheeks go red as he looks at you.
“Well, I guess I just wanted to ask if you’d have time to tutor me?”
König let your question hang in the air for a few seconds as he looked at you. Have you always looked at him like this? He realizes he wouldn’t know because he avoids eye contact with you. Maybe tutoring wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
“I can.” He says simply trying to not let it show how excited he was to spend time with you.
“Are you free tomorrow?”
“I am—”
“I’ll be by your dorm room by noon.” You say with a large smile and turn to walk away.
König just sits there with his mouth hanging open as you walk away from him. A thousand thoughts running through his mind all at once. He quickly packs up his bags and goes to his dorm to clean it up for your arrival; he doesn’t want you to think he’s a slob.
The next day at 11:59 am, you knock on his door. When König answers you smile up at him and hold out a Tupperware container. He gazes down at you and cautiously grabs it from your hands as he steps aside to let you in.
“They’re homemade Jelly Donuts. I saw in Austria they’re really popular so I figured it would make a nice thank you gift.” Your voice is cheery, hoping he likes them.
König’s eyes light up as he opens the container to see six donuts carefully lined up and dusted with powdered sugar. He picks one up and takes a bite. His eyes flutter closed and he nods, enjoying the sweet apricot jam in the middle.
You can’t help but to smile as you watch him enjoying himself. A light dusting of powdered sugar covers his lower lip. Without a second though you use your thumb to gently glide across his lip, cleaning it for him.
“You had a little sugar.” You giggle as he looks at you. His heart thumps inside of his chest.
As he enjoys his donut your eyes look around his dorm room. König watches you as you do, feeling nervous that you might mock his collection of Gundam models that he’s spent hours building. Instead, you gravitate to one of the models of Beargguy.
“You have a Beargguy gunplay? I think he’s so adorable! I have the pink one built.”
Did she just say gunplay? She’s perfect. He thinks to himself.
“Um yeah, I have the panda one too. I just haven’t built him yet.” König says, whipping the powdered donut dusting from his fingers onto his jeans.
“Maybe when we are done with tutoring me you can give me a tour of your models?” You smirk as you sit on his bed.
König doesn’t know what to say other than nod and agree. Dirty thoughts flood his mind as he watches you sit on his bed so casually. How would it feel to touch your skin? Kiss your lips? He shakes his head and walks over to his iPad and textbooks so he can start tutoring you.
He sits on his bed next to you, his knee bumps with yours, causing you to feel a rush of excitement being so close to him. The same rush travels through his body. There is a tension he is trying to ignore as he fumbles open his iPad.
As he does, your eyes are glued to his face. His blue eyes look stunning as they read over notes on the screen in front of him. Your eyes watch as he uses his fingers to scroll and tap. Without a second thought, you reach your smaller hand over to his knee and rub.
König’s eyes drift from the screen down to your hand on his. He swallows, but there is no movement to push your hand away, but there is a rush of heat to his groin. Finally, he turns his head, his blue eyes gazing into your eyes.
“I think you’re really amazing.” You say in a soft tone while being physically more forward.
König turns to you, his eyes roaming up and down your body before coming back to your face. This is his moment, the change he’s been waiting for. His hand comes up and cradles your face in his hand. The feeling of your hand moving up from his knee to his thigh causes his cock to get hard. A girl has never touched him this way.
His blue eyes darken as his pupils expand from arousal. You lean in and kiss his lips gently at first, waiting to see if he will reject you. As you pull back from the kiss, you look at König, awaiting his reaction.
König leans in and kisses you again. His kiss is needy, instantly opening his mouth against yours. You reciprocate and open your mouth, your tongue reaching out to swirl around his. A low guttural groan leaves his lips as your hand reaches for his erection. He pulls back from the kiss to look down at your hand as you grab him over the fabric of his jeans and jerk him slightly.
“Y/n…” He moans before kissing you again.
You kiss him back before pulling away and kiss his neck, gently licking his pale skin. It only adds to the euphoric feeling of you touching his cock. His hands go to his jeans and unzip them, releasing his leaky cock for you to grab.
A soft moan leaves his lips as he feels your smaller hand wrap around his shaft. He gazes down as you pull his foreskin back, jerking him off. Little droplets of precum trail down onto your hands, acting like lubrication and assisting in your motions.
“Your cock is so fucking big.” You whisper as you drop to your knees in front of him.
His eyes watch your every movement like a hawk, he can feel his cock twitch as you kneel in front of him. Your hand moves down to the base of his shaft as you lean forward to put the head of his cock in your mouth.
You suck lightly, eyes meeting König’s to watch his reaction. As you lower your head down further on his cock, König lets out a whimper. He tosses his iPad aside to get comfortable as you suck off his cock. He gently runs his fingers through your hair before grabbing slightly. He gently helps you through the motion, bobbing your head on his cock for you.
Loud sucking sounds fill the room, like music to his ears. He watches as spit forms at the corners of your mouth and spills down his cock. Your full lips wrap so perfectly around him. He lets out a shaky breath as he drops his head back. You let out a soft moan on his cock, the hum vibrating through him.
You pull your head back with a pop off of his cock, eagerly your tongue runs up and down his erection. His hand moves away from your head as he leans back on the bed.
“I want to fuck you…” He whispers, almost as if he didn’t really mean for you to hear him. You did.
Without a second thought you stand up and begin to strip your clothing off. König’s eyes widen as you do. He feels like now he should be honest with you because what if he’s bad?
“I’m…I’ve never been with someone before.”
“That’s okay, I can teach you.” A small smile of pride on your face for being his first intimate experience.
König follows your lead and undresses completely. You haze over his body, slightly chubby but you can tell he’s extremely strong. He stands looking over your naked body, his eyes zeroing in on the small bush covering the mound of your cunt.
“How…do we start?”
“We can start simple. Do you want me to ride you or you on top?”
His eyes move as if he is deep in thought. The idea of watching your breasts bounce wild as you ride him sounds amazing, but he’d probably cum faster from the visuals mixed with the pleasure. “I want to be on top.”
“Okay.” You crawl on the bed, ass up in the air as you go to his pillows and lay down.
König moves on to the bed with you, his enormous frame approaching yours. His eyes drop down between your legs as he kneels in front of you on the bed. A pussy. Your pussy. He’s always wanted to know what you smell like, taste life. He lowers himself slightly while his hands pull your legs apart more.
König flicks his tongue out and licks your folds lightly. His eyes dart up to yours to see your reaction. You nod, encouraging him. He presses his face closer and takes a longer swipe with his tongue and…my god. After one taste, he couldn’t stop. Not a thought in his mind as he buries his face between your pussy lips, lapping at your folds and missing your clit.
“Go up more.” You instruct him. “Like the little hood area.”
He moves his tongue up, flicking it quickly. Your eyes flutter and legs begin to twitch. König realizes he’s making you feel good. It excites him like no other. He doesn’t stop as soft moans begin to leave your lips freely. His eyes stay locked on yours as his lips begin to thrust into the mattress beneath him to get friction.
“You taste so sweet.” He says quickly before diving back down between your thighs.
A small smirk appears on your lips before another moan comes out. You gaze down at him and comb your fingers through his hair. “You’re doing so well.” The way you say it with a tone of desire lights the fire within him.
“I’m sorry, I want to feel you so badly.” He says as he pulls away from your core and moves his body between your legs.
He rubs the head of his cock along your folds and feels himself shutter at the feeling of your warmth and wetness. His eyes are down gazing at your folds spread open for him. He leans down and kisses your breast shyly before kissing your lips.
“Can I—”
“Yes.”
König gazes back down at your pussy as he watches his cock get swallowed by your cunt squeezing him. His eyebrows pinch from the orgasmic feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him. A loud moan escapes his throat as he fully shoves his cock into you.
“Oh fuck!” He groans loudly as he pulls back and slams into you again.
The feeling he’s giving you is euphoric as you gaze up into his eyes. He watches as your breasts bounce to the rhythm of his motions. A melody of pleasure leaves your lips encouraging his speed to quicken.
He gazes down at the creamy streaks your sweet pussy is leaving behind and his cock. You look like a perfect angel beneath him. The look of pleasure on your beautiful face is something he wishes to see over and over.
“König!” You moan out as your nails dig into his arms.
Hearing you moan out his name was just too much. König leans back and grabs your legs, spreading them wide apart. He thrust into you quickly, losing his rhythm and just chasing his orgasm that’s quickly building.
With one final hard thrust, he slams into you and leans over your back. His lips needily finding yours, kissing you as he cums into your pussy. You can feel his cock throbbing as you rock your hips against his. König pants and rests his heavy body on yours, pressing you into the mattress.
“I’m sorry…” he says panting, “I didn’t make you cum.”
“It’s okay.” You kiss his neck and caress his sweaty back. “It was your first time.”
He shakes his head, pulling out. “I want to make you cum.”
König looks into your eyes as he parts your legs and drops onto his stomach. With the adrenaline of having just lost his virginity, he takes his time this time. He kisses down your thighs, softly biting your supple flesh. His eyes drawn to his white cum leaking out of you.
“You’re so perfect.” König says to you as his lips get closer to your cunt. “Be mine. Bitte.”
#konig#konig x reader#konig cod#könig x reader#konig smut#könig mw2#konig x y/n#könig#könig cod#könig smut#könig x you#konig x you#könig x y/n#konig mw2#cod konig#könig call of duty#cod smut#konig x reader smut#smut
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the jily tag is so filled with anti jily and jegulus posts at the moment so here's some jily headcanons:
lily loving transfiguration but hating that james is so much better so when they start becoming friends, she makes him tutor her in transfiguration
james giving her his quidditch shirt to wear but lily already has marlene's. so she just wears them both instead, for luck.
statistic nerds. they make graphs together and everything (mostly about various sports)
as head boy and head girl, they tend to use the good cop/bad cop approach but take it in turns cause they both wanna be bad cop
lily isn't very popular but is well liked (too stubborn and friends with very unpopular and 'weird' students to be popular), james is popular but isn't well liked (mostly due to immaturity in first few years of school as well as not seeming to care about anyone other than the other marauders + lily)
hospital wing bonding. lily wanting to study medicine so she helps out pomfrey and james being in the wing a lot for remus or quidditch injuries or just to get a lollipop from pomfrey.
marlene and james being next door neighbours and whilst lily is staying at marlene's, she talks to james over the garden fence and gets invited to dinner by james' parents
lily not being super close to her own parents so after meeting james, euphemia and fleamont start writing letters to her and sending her snacks (whilst she's not yet friendly with james), and james' isn't aware of this till he sees lily in the common room with her own basket of his mum's muffins
ursula k le guin fanboy!james. lily sees him reading one of her books and instantly starts crushing on him. then she sees him dogear the book and immediately gives him her bookmark to stop that from ever happening again
whilst they're friends, they start going on morning walks around the grounds together and name the goats, in the neighbouring field, and giving them personalities and soap opera type stories
#i'll also write a lil something later perhaps#jily#marauders era#marauders#james potter#lily evans#jily headcanons
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