#a lot of my ocs use it/its. that's like the default to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pparadiselost · 1 year ago

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the death of a wallflower.

university professor hinata shoyo x university student fem reader your crush on the hot new professor gets out of hand. warning(s): nsfw, unhealthy relationship dynamic (teacher x student), named best friend oc, reader has an unnamed ex, pov change for one of the scenes, non-virgin reader, use of american university setting minors do not interact.

XX UNIVERSITY

XX SEMESTER

WEEK 2

“no, like, our new professor is seriously so hot. like, forget-your-shitty-ex kinda hot. ugh, just wait till you’re in class! you have to believe me!”

minnie’s words echo like the foreshadowing of some porno as you gather yourself outside of the classroom. leave it to your roommate and self-proclaimed best friend to describe the newest professor at your university as “hot,” when most of the faculty are pushing 70 and have the self-awareness of a brick. you honestly have no reason to be this nervous before lecture, but while it might be the start of a boring week two of the semester for your scholarly peers, it’s your first day.

it’s also just your luck to end up with the world’s most horrendous stomach bug right before the semester started. after a few heated email exchanges and a lot of heavy-lifting from minnie, your advisor and dean begrudgingly excused you from classes until you were feeling better.

and now here you are. you took the liberty of showing up to class just a few minutes early to try and talk to your professor to see what exactly you missed, and maybe find a seat. you assumed at this point everyone had their unofficial “official” seats, and you were praying that you could score one somewhere close to minnie.

whatever.

you shake your head like a dog to clear whatever doubts tumbling around in your skull. you’ve dealt with your share of mean professors before, and between forcing yourself to go to class and puking on the floor and dealing with whatever screaming gripe they’ll give you now, you had sagely decided the latter was the better option.

you brace yourself, and you tiptoe into the classroom.

the door squeaks open, and you shuffle inside, almost scared to see what’s on the other side of the door. the classroom is empty, unsurprisingly, and the fairly sized classroom zooms in on a central point: at the professor’s desk. a bag is slumped next to it, and some papers are placed into somewhat neat piles on the desk. a projector illuminates the blackboard behind with its default display.

“ah, welcome in! you’re early!”

you nearly jump out of your own skin at the energetic voice that greets you. standing a few paces from the desk is a young man, dressed crisply in a white button down and formal pants. your eyes crawl up his physique, trailing over the undone button at his throat and the sleeves tastefully rolled up to reveal his toned arms. they’re all classically handsome features, but nothing to write home about—nothing a quick swipe on tinder won’t satiate.

you step a bit closer. “uh- good morning… i’m a student in your class. i think i emailed you about this a while back, but i was the one that got really sick last week and couldn’t come in.”

you braced yourself for the tirade that you were so used to, the mountain of homework and make up lectures that were bound to be awaiting you. god, you weren’t some kind of study freak, but no one ever likes starting the semester on the wrong foot, especially when that wrong foot means making up a week’s worth of classes all across the board.

except the tirade never really comes. the man laughs, “so that’s who you are! gotcha, gotcha. well, i can say for sure that it’s much better to see you in person rather than the little yearbook picture i have on my class roster. um… minerva, was it? she said she’d fill you in on the notes that you’ve missed.”

you perk up. “yeah, minnie’s my roommate. and she’s helped me catch up the best she can.”

“awesome! it’s good to hear students helping each other. i mean, that’s what having classmates and roommates is all about anyway,” he continues. you can’t help but notice the charm in his voice, the light rhythm that makes it feel like he’s dancing with his words rather than rambling. “reminds me of my own roommate. tall guy. super awkward. only cared about volleyball. he had this god awful middle part that chased away any girl that remotely found him attractive.”

you fight back a small giggle. he was funny. “i’m glad to say that minnie isn’t anything like that. if anything, i’d say she’s the opposite…”

“oh?” your professor quickly quips. “bit of a boy magnet, is she? i’m just messing with you. but yeah, like i said, it’s lovely to finally meet you. if you have any troubles, don’t ever feel scared to reach out to me. i’d rather that i know what’s going on than to be left guessing, and i promise you whatever ‘stupid’ thing you’re worrying about, i’ve definitely done dumber in my own undergrad years. sound cool?”

your eyes trail upwards again, from the outline of his small waist and broad chest. your mind wanders momentarily, wondering what his workout routine must be. you gloss over his smooth face, marveling at the smooth skin and the sunshine-like smile that tickles his mouth. he really couldn’t be that much older than you, despite being a professor, and if you saw him on the streets, outside of this academic setting, you would have never guessed him to hold such a position of authority with a face this young. his eyes are just like yours, lively but with a tinge of timidness that invites you to probe a bit deeper, a bit closer. and his hair: it’s the most beautiful, sensual shade of sunset orange.

it isn’t like your breath is being taken away in one fell swoop. rather, it feels like he’s coaxing it from you, stealing it away subtly so that you’re left to lean in, fiending for it like a fish caught out of water.

your gaze meets his, and you’re shoved back down to the correct plane of reality. fuck—you were not about to be caught staring like a creep at your professor on day one on all days…!

you nod shakily. “it’s nice to meet you too, professor-”

“-hinata,” he finishes, beaming even wider at you. “although, i told the class they can call me shoyo if they want to. i’m still pretty new to the whole teaching thing, so being called ‘professor’ feels a bit weird.”

“ah,” your voice drops in volume a tad, “i’m personally more comfortable with ‘professor’, so i’ll stick to that, i think. if it’s okay.”

he holds his hand up in mock surrender. “totally chill. whatever rocks your boat. if you don’t have any more questions, then make yourself comfortable. i think minnie tends to sit… over there, if you wanna get settled down. i know you already got the notes from her, but i promise you didn’t miss much in the first week, so don’t sweat anything.”

“thank you!” you breathe, getting ready to turn on your heel and march to the area professor hinata pointed out. something inside your rib cage trembles as if shocked with electricity, an anticipation for a breath of fresh air that only the beginning of a new semester could bring. you don’t know what to call it exactly. it isn’t quite excitement nor is it giddiness, but a liminal middle ground in between all of it where dread, the need for poise, and opportunity intermingle.

“hey.”

you glance over your shoulder at the sound of your professor’s voice. your professor grins at you, and in that split second, at you alone. his eyes twinkle fondly.

your breath catches in the back of your throat.

“let’s have a good semester together, you and i.”

the brown of his irises feel as if they’re going to swallow you whole.

you tear your eyes away.

…

“sooooooooo,” minnie practically slams your dorm room’s door shut and corners you in the small excuse of a room that you call home while at school. her eyes are brimming with the mischievous glimmer that you know all too well, and she stares you down with the most expectant look on her face. “isn’t the new professor hot? exactly like i told you?”

you dump your bag on the ground, crawling into your bed and immediately finding your place under the sheets. it’s been a long first day for you, and despite feverishly praying to whatever divinity was up above that the rest of your professors would be as kind as professor hinata was, it looks like your calls went wholly unanswered.

you massage the slight ache in your shoulders. “i mean, yeah, he’s an attractive man, and i guess he’s pretty nice. but nothing super out of the ordinary.”

minnie sticks her tongue out, and she pretends to boo you. she huffs her chest out and plants her hands squarely on her hips, clearly not impressed by your review of the new eye candy she’s scoped out. “you’re no fun! i bet you’re only saying this because you’re still hung up about that pathetic scum of a human being you call an ex. c’mon! the best way to get over a shitty boy is to simply find another one!”

something inside your chest twinges with a dull ache, and you flop back onto your bed. “as much as i would love to share your optimism, i don’t think hopping from one boy to another will make me feel any less shitty about this breakup.”

“well, you gotta give me something to work with! and besides,” she sidles up to the side of your bed, and she leans in close to your face, as if she’s whispering a secret to you. “professor hinata isn’t a boy. he’s a man.”

you hold back the urge to throw a pillow at your roommate. you’re grateful that you have minnie to get you out of your own mind sometimes, but at the same time, she better be grateful that she has you to ground her to reality.

“he’s our professor, minnie!” you pretend to scold her, but you fail at holding back an exasperated smile. “i’m all for you homie hopping through whatever ligma sigma dickma frat you’ve got your eyes on, but faculty are strictly off limits!”

“hey, be nice to me!” she laughs back, reaching over to poke at your cheeks. “doesn’t professor hinata look super young though? like he can’t be that far off from our age. that doesn’t make it that bad, does it?”

you shake your head. “i don’t care how old he is! pursuing your professor is a huge no-no!”

“ughhhhh! i’m trying to find the silver lining for you here! i’d much rather you drool over your hot professor than mope around in bed over your ex all day, okay? besides, it’s not every semester that we get to have a class together AND have a professor that doesn’t dress like fucking paddington,” she groans dramatically. she’s basically swooning at this point, acting as if the notion of a new, handsome romantic prospect for her to chase after and you being disinterested is the end of the world for her. you’re used to this song and dance by now, and you know she’s being theatrical just to get on your nerves.

it’s funny to you. minnie has a talent for making you laugh over the stupidest things. you barely stifle back a giggle. “leave paddington out of this! the poor guy has done nothing wrong.”

“you get my point!”

you settle back into your cozy spot on your bed, snuggling into your sheets. you don’t want to open up the can of worms that catching up on homework would be just yet, and as fantastical as minnie’s romantic endeavors could be, they make for a good distraction from all the responsibilities you don’t want to face yet. she glances at you lovingly, her fingers drumming against your rackety bed frame.

“but you do think he’s hot, yeah?” she starts. you snort.

“i said i found him to be an attractive man but nothing special, minnie.” you chew over your words, and your eyes flicker up to the white expanse of your ceiling. your mind conjures up images of your new professor, and the relief you had felt when he had treated you so warmly.

he was such a sunny young man, and true to minnie’s guess, probably not that much older than you were. most definitely fresh out of school and figuring things out for himself, your quick interaction with him before class felt more like talking to a classmate or a teacher’s assistant at best, rather than a well-educated professor trying to test his craft and wrangle throngs of antsy college students. you liked talking to him.

“i’d say he’s more charismatic than hot,” you offer up. minnie guffaws at your answer, and it’s her turn to roll her eyes.

“fine, fine, i get it! you’re not going to bite at whatever temptation i throw at you. that’s my roommate for you, always the toughest nut to crack,” she sighs and shakes her head at you as if you’re hopeless, but you know she means well. there’s nobody else in the world who would care for you like this, go this much out of her way to make sure you don’t feel alone.

it’s almost enough to dispel the thoughts of your new professor from your mind.

almost.

your heart softens around the edges when your mind pushes the image of him alone with you into your mind. just that one cadence, no longer than thirty seconds at most, when it was only the two of you in that empty classroom, with no other soul in the room to shield you from the incoming stranger wedging his way into your life—just you and him, caught in that suspended moment.

he’s still so beautiful in your memory.

“-anyways,” minnie’s loud voice jostles you from your thoughts. heat rushes to your face in embarrassment, as if you had been caught doing something bad red-handed. she doesn’t seem to notice, and you choke back your guilt on losing track of yourself over your new professor in favor of whatever minnie’s spouting next. she purses her lips in thought. “i’m feeling kinda peckish, so what do you say about getting takeout for dinner?”

“we have food in our fridge,” you curtly remind her.

she groans in utter defeat, flopping onto you over the side of your bed. “you’re such a goody two shoes! what in the world will ever get you to break?”

…

WEEK 4

what in the world, indeed.

you fidget listlessly inside professor hinata’s office. you’ve never seen him with glasses before, but a pair is perched slightly crooked on his nose as he clicks at the big monitors on his desk, probably pulling up whatever answer you scrawled out on the google form he had sent out a few days prior. you’ve always been a little antsy whenever meeting with a professor in general, but make it a mandatory one-on-one meeting with a certain professor that seems to make your heart act up and you’re vibrating so hard that you might as well cause an earthquake.

“so…,” he starts, skimming your response, “i really like what you wrote here. think you can tell me more about what you have planned for your final project?”

you lick your lips and swallow, and you’re suddenly aware of how dry your mouth is. “uh, yeah. i’m sure minnie’s already told you most of it-”

you stop dead in your tracks when professor hinata raises a hand, cutting you off. you pause, a prickle of dread swirling in your stomach.

he smiles apologetically. “sorry, i really don’t like interrupting students. but this is your final project, and i want to hear your ideas. not minnie’s. i know you wrote that you two want to do it as a pair, and that’s fine. but your ideas are just as valuable as yours are, and this time is reserved so i can pick at your brain, not hers.”

“r-right…,” you murmur. your heart flutters the slightest bit when you realize he’s paying special attention to you, but you shut any excitement down immediately. you were a goddamn adult and a college student. what kind of person would you be if you couldn’t hold it together around your professor, who 100% without a doubt saw you as a pupil? you mentally scold yourself for finding your instructor’s undivided attention appealing.

“like you said,” you start up, your voice still quiet, “i thought it’d be nice to do a joint research thing with minnie, and we wanted to focus on our campus’ experience with single versus shared dorm life. we figured something like that would be easy to find professional data for on a much larger scale, so we can compare and contrast with our own findings.”

he hums to himself. you keep your eyes fixed on a point on the wall behind him, not wanting your eyes to wander. it isn’t like professor hinata always comes to class impeccably dressed in a suit and tie or anything, but he also has a horrendously good sense of fashion that makes you instinctively shy away a bit. he’s dressed nicely today too: in a sweater with a white button down underneath that peeks over the collar of the sweater and what should be loose black pants that fit tightly around his thighs. you hate yourself for noticing these details.

“that sounds like a pretty solid plan to me. i like how far you’re thinking ahead. research like this usually takes a lot of time and energy, so it’s good to have a vision for what you plan to do at the end. do you have any thoughts as to how you’re going to collect data? i suppose reaching out to housing would help with pure numbers, but for tackling the more social and emotional parts, you’ll need to do that yourself.”

you’re keenly aware of when he glances towards you, his gaze burning into you like a magnifying glass held up to the sun. god, you shouldn’t be so on edge around him, and yet something about how casual he is with you and just how sweet he is with you makes you that much more stiff. you don’t dare meet his eyes.

maybe it’s that vulnerable intimate one-on-one that’s making you so much more aware of his presence, or maybe it’s the close confines of his office, but you know you’re going to waver if you make eye contact with him.

“minnie and i wanted to conduct physical surveys. we were planning on contacting the different r.a.s of each housing building and asking the school for the information to off campus housing managers. that way we can distribute questions as far as we can,” you recited stately. “we even considered maybe putting in a raffle reward for responses, which would incentivize people to actually respond instead of ignoring it.”

professor hinata whistles. “i’m impressed. you two have really thoroughly thought all of this through! you never fail to impress me with how much attention to detail you put with your schoolwork. i wish all of my students were as diligent as you were sometimes.”

you bite down on your tongue, and it takes all of your willpower to not let some kind of fucked up glee swell inside your chest. “thank you, professor. the idea was originally minnie’s idea, but i was the one that really did most of the work ironing out the kinks.”

he laughs heartily. “i can imagine. between the two of you, i can tell that you’re the more responsible one by a long shot. don’t get me wrong: minnie’s a wonderful student. but at the end of the day, it’s still you cleaning up her messes, isn’t it?”

“yeah,” you bashfully admit. you can’t even count the number of times you’ve been the one to pick her up from her drunken escapades or be the one to force her into bed after holding her hair while she pukes. as much emotional stability as she gives you, she does need a tad bit of mothering. “but she’s still a great friend. i couldn’t ask for a better roommate. we might have opposite personalities, but we balance each other out perfectly, i think.”

“that’s good to hear! it’s always nice to know my students are getting along. especially quieter ones like you.” he leans forward in his seat, almost as if he’s whispering a secret to you. “us professors aren’t allowed to have favorites, but it’s human nature to always root a little for the well-behaved underdogs.”

you swallow a bit more harshly. there’s a lump in your throat. you really, really need to do something about whatever you feel towards your professor, because you know deep down that it’s wrong to keep wanting his attention like this. he’s being friendly and watching out for you, because he knows you’re the plain mouse-like student amongst a sea of wild young adults carving their way in the world. he’s only helping you, only complimenting you because he’s genuine and wants to see you do well, and you’re hoarding that attention and craving it like a man starved.

“she’s done a lot to get me where i am right now,” you admit, wanting to deflect. “i broke up with my now ex-boyfriend over the summer, and she did so much to make sure i was doing okay. i know you probably don’t care that much about messy college student drama, but… she has my back until the end.”

he raises an eyebrow. “i don’t mind. trust me, professors love hearing about student drama as much as the students do. also if it helps me get to know you better, then it doesn’t hurt, does it? having more information, no matter how silly, is better than knowing nothing about you at all.”

“i mean, it really is silly.” you’re trying very hard not to look him in the face. your eyes flit everywhere but, looking at your hands, the neckline of his sweater, the peeling wallpaper, anything. “i really liked that guy, and he ran off and cheated on me. i caught him red handed and did the right thing by confronting him and immediately breaking things off, but it’s not like you can wake up and decide that you don’t like someone anymore, no matter how awful he was to me.”

“i’m sorry that happened to you. it’s never fun to feel betrayed by someone you trusted, especially romantically.” he taps his fingers together.

you wave him off, shrugging. “i’m a lot better about it now! it hurts every now and then, but i’m choosing to focus on myself. i did nothing wrong, and it’s better for me to have cut him off than to turn a blind eye. and minnie’s always inviting me out to all sorts of things to take my mind off of it too.”

“that’s good. i wish i could say relationships get easier once you become an adult, but… there’s no cheat key to things like love. you gotta roll up your sleeves and do the nitty gritty work.” he feigns rolling his sleeves up, and he shakes his head. a blur of orange flickers like candle light in the corner of your eye. “even full grown adults do terrible things to each other. but just like you said, it makes you appreciate the bonds that stay true to you even through your hardships.”

“clearly,” you breathe. your voice is airy, almost strained. god, he was just so easy to spill your heart to. why couldn’t your ex be like this? professor hinata is thoughtful, intelligent, and emotionally mature. you need to step away, need to keep your distance, but even your attempts to deflect yourself away from the growing attachment you have to your instructor only ends with him expertly spinning things into his favor.

he chuckles to himself and leans back into his seat. “my mom would always say that it’s better to be single and free than to be miserable and tied down. besides, you’re only in college! the big wide world is waiting for you! i promise you, there are far better guys out there that can treat you the way you deserve to be treated. one failed college relationship isn’t going to doom you for the rest of your life, okay? take this one from your prof.”

“i’m sure.”

you don’t doubt his words. the little resolve, the sliver of morality lingering inside your turmoiled brain, is crackling. it’s wrong to lean this forward towards your professor, to grasp and grip at the stray straws you can see, and yet, it feels so good. the heady silence that settles over the two of you is reminiscent of your first meeting with him, back to the moment when it was only you and him in the same way it is now.

but things are different today. he knows more about you. you’ve learned to trust him. he’s always respected you, but it’s clear that he treats you like an adult on equal footing with him rather than your other professors who act as if you were born yesterday. he genuinely cares for you.

you subconsciously steel your stomach, and you sneak your eyes upwards from the hemline of his sweater. your gaze trickles cautiously over his broad chest and his neck, over the detail of his lips and nose, apple-like cheeks, before eventually meeting his inquisitive one. you unintentionally let out a choked sigh, like the wind is being squeezed out from your lungs.

his eyes light up and smile at you, as if to say “finally.”

you can’t breathe.

you want to lean in; you want to close that impossible gap that tenses and pulses between the two of you. what kind of tension is this? something so forbidden, so magnetic, so undeniable yet unavailable for the taking… it feels like torture, to see your meek reflection staring back at you in the wide sclera and captivating brown irises of professor hinata’s eyes, and to be able to do nothing about it. this was the devastating nature of attraction, knowing that your personal insanity might amount to nothing the very instant you handed your fate over to another.

knock knock knock.

you nearly splutter over your own inhale before jerking away back into your seat. a loud knocking noise repeats itself around the small confines of his office, and you’re left stunned, your heart hammering like a death toll inside your tense ribcage. you drop your face down to the floor, not daring to tear your eyes away from anywhere other than the anchoring, humiliating safety of the ground.

“ah, looks like our time is up. it seems like the next student is here,” professor hinata explains, much to your simultaneous dismay and relief. this isn’t a line you can cross, and yet you crossed some kind of personal boundary you set up for yourself right there when you snuck a glimpse into your professor’s eyes.

“i-i’ll get going. thank you for the meeting,” you stammer, hurriedly grabbing your things and almost stumbling over your feet to get to the door. “i’ll keep working on my project- and uh- i’ll reach out to you if i have any questions…!”

you don’t know what kind of face he must be making, not when you don’t have the courage to look at him again. you sprint out of the door, away from the tense sparks that lay dying out into fumes between the two of you, surely a machination of your deprived brain. the hallway echoes with the sound of your footsteps as you half-run-half-speed-walk away from the office, wanting to go anywhere else as quickly as your clumsy feet would take you.

how could you be so stupid? not only do you end up blabbing about a bad breakup to him, revealing that you’re single, but you’re idiotic enough to think that his goodwill is something you can entertain into something further.

you hate to admit it.

you’re falling in love with your professor.

…

WEEK 7

“you should go out with me this weekend.”

“i’ll think about it.”

“pleaseeeeeeee? i basically have my outfit picked out, and i’m dying to get a matching one for you! it’s been so long since you let me dress you up, and i’m itching to do something fun with you for the weekend! please? pretty please? with sprinkles and oreos and whipped cream and cherries on top?”

you groan, tempted to slam your head into your desk. “minnie, i said i’ll think about it. i’ve already seen the five million instagram dms you’ve sent me begging to go to whatever frat party is being thrown.”

“it’s sig-chi,” she reminds you, as if that’s the important part. some of the students next to you shoot the two of you odd glances, and you flash a weak smile, inwardly apologizing for minnie’s obliviousness when it came to blurting your business. it wasn’t like the entire class heard, thank god, but the noise levels weren’t high enough where you could act a bit more stealthily. you wish it was, even if it was only to spare you from whatever social embarrassment your mostly well-meaning roommate was bound to put you through.

you turn your attention back to the work you’re trying to get done. you’re grateful professor hinata gives you time in class to work on your final projects. after that fateful instance in office hours with him where you came face-to-face with your feelings, you haven’t been able to really act normally around your instructor. fearing for your own sanity, you’ve done everything you possibly can to avoid interacting with him one-on-one. it’s not like something like that is particularly difficult to do, but your heart still skips a beat and lodges itself in the back of your throat when he catches you in the hallway, greeting you with a light “good to see you!” before squeezing past you.

your cheeks sting with heat when you think about him. you bite down only your tongue, willing for the dull pain to ground you. minnie hums absentmindedly next to you, completely unaware of the hell that she’s partially responsible for, and she taps away at her phone.

“hey, hey, look at this! isn’t this outfit sooooo cute? it would look perfect on you! and if i order it today, it should get here in time for the sig-chi function!” she sticks her phone screen in your face, and you instinctively recoil away.

your blood runs cold when you see the outfit she’s showing you. it’s a cute sparkly little number, except for the fact that it would cover barely anything if you were to put it on. one wrong move in it, and your whole chest and ass would be out for the world to see. and that’s not including the already exposed midriff it would entail. “it’s cute, but- i don’t know if i could wear something like that…”

“nonsense! i can see you perfectly in it! it’ll be awesome!” she quickly cuts you off. “a cute but still slutty outfit is key to every good party! i bet you’ll have all of the guys in there chasing after you in this. oh, the color will sooooo make your eyes pop, and i think i can really make your features shine with a bit of my make up too…”

you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. embarrassment prickles like red-hot thorns underneath your face, and you try to grab at minnie’s phone. “minnie! you know i don’t wear things like that!”

“exactly! it’s all the more reason why! i’m trying to help you make your debut on the university dating scene,” the girl responds as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “you’ll be thanking me once you have a drop dead gorgeous six foot something basketball player wrapped around your little finger. trust me, i’m the expert in these kinds of things.”

“that’s not the point!” you hiss. ugh, you should really know better than to talk reason into her during one of her frenzied rants. you have absolutely zero intention of actually going out to one of these sleazy frat parties, let alone wear a skimpy outfit in order to bait a boy! you need time and patience to heal your broken heart, not… her wild schemes. you would rather bite off your tongue than go through whatever public humiliation ritual is involved with flirting at a frat party.

“ladies,” a deep yet sunny voice cuts through your annoyed inner monologue like a hot knife through butter, “i hope we’re actually getting work done. you wouldn’t be goofing off in my class, would you?”

your blood turns into ice for the second time within minutes, and when you peel your eyes up from your desk, your fear comes true when you see professor hinata standing there. his hands are on his hips, and despite his teasingly scolding tone, he’s sporting a bright smile.

you curse yourself inwardly, and you’re mentally scrambling to make an excuse.

“professor! look at this! wouldn’t this look so good on (y/n)?” minnie’s a step ahead of you. you audibly splutter over your breath, and you shove your head into your hands. she giggles as she sticks her phone in your professor’s face, and you’ve never been more mortified in your life.

professor hinata’s eyes widen at the more-lingerie-than-actual-clothing that’s being bombarded into his eyes, and he coughs, waving his hand. “woah, i’m not sure if i’m the right person to be asking that, minnie! why don’t we save the party talk for after class?”

she pretends to be exasperated, and she jokingly rolls her eyes. “ugh, you two are hopeless! you have to help me out here, professor. i’m trying to get (y/n) to loosen up a bit and have some fun with me! isn’t it true that you feel loads better when you do a bit of dolling up?”

“well, yes, but it looks like (y/n) here isn’t too keen on that idea. take it easy on the party going, and let’s focus more on your final project. trust me when i say your deadlines will be creeping up on you fast,” he easily brushes minnie off. she smiles brightly and nods, and only then does she finally turn to her computer and start compiling her research.

you want lightning to strike you down and burn you to a crisp. you peel your head out of your hands, and your weary eyes meet your professor’s. he grins understandingly at you, and he reaches forward to squeeze your shoulder empathetically.

“...!”

you grit your teeth, your eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights as electricity courses through your body. the skin where his hand just was feels like it had been burned, thrown completely off guard by the sudden contact.

“are you doing okay?” he whispers. his voice is soft and quiet, coaxing you out of your panicked state. it’s a voice reserved solely for you, one that only you can hear, and your blood is being weighed down by figurative iron when your heart flutters. “take it easy now. don’t let her goad you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

your lips feel clumsy. “she means well. i’m fine. she talks big, but she won’t actually do anything without my express permission.”

he’s more of a danger to you than minnie will ever be. you wish you had the courage or brainlessness to blurt something like that, but the bitter revelation stays curled up into the flesh of your still tongue, burning and scalding you like the unspoken confession it is.

“that’s good to hear. take care of yourself though. if she keeps fretting over you, you’ll make me worry too, you hear?” his nose crinkles a little when he squeezes your shoulder again. did he always have freckles? or are you only noticing them now that he’s up close and you have nowhere else to focus except for his face? you hate it, hate this tension, hate the way you can’t control yourself despite knowing better.

you hang your head, forcibly tearing your eyes away from your handsome professor. you lie through your teeth. “i’ll be okay, professor.”

…

“ohhhhh, fuck…!”

shoyo double, triple, quadruple-checked to make sure that his office door was firmly locked around him. it would be the literal death of his academic career if someone were to catch him doing what he was about to do, and he wasn’t that keen on throwing aside his future just yet.

he had made a beeline for his office the moment class let out. it took every bone in his body, every last bit of willpower he has ever known in his entire life to keep his sunny facade up and to make sure no one would see his mask slip. he can’t afford it, and yet he’s still gambling too riskily. he’s cutting it too close to safety to relax fully, but he can’t stop.

his cock twitches and strains in his pants, begging for his attention. he leans his back against the firm wooden door, his breathing shallowing as lewd images flash behind his eyes. fuck—he really should know how to control himself better than this, actually listen to the angel in his brain telling him that he should really quit being so attracted to his students.

correction: student.

correction again: you.

his fingers unconsciously unbuckle his belt, and his pants drop down to his ankles. he grits his teeth, a strangled breath escaping his clenched teeth as he palms the prominent bulge in his boxers. it was one thing to ride out his delusions on his own, savoring the forbidden dregs of toeing the line between professionalism and a taboo romance.

you played the part so well too. like a frightened doe that would run away if he moved too quickly, you were good at keeping your walls up and fending off his quiet advances enough. the push and pull had him reeling: part of him wanting him to do better and to act properly as a new professor should, and another wondering how much cuter you’d be bent over his desk and your pretty cunt stuffed full of his cock.

“...shit-,” he hisses as his hands slip underneath his boxers. it only takes a few strokes for his cock to fully get hard, and the cool air of the office hits his sensitive skin like a flurry of ice. heat courses through his body, and he feels awful.

he shouldn’t be doing this. he shouldn’t be getting aroused by his student and jerking off in his office, but here he was. the last straw was seeing your roommate pitch that damn slutty outfit. you looked so innocent and so sweet, clearly not a party animal, but how often did your roommate swing you around? did you get down and wild if pushed far enough? shit, was your good girl thing just a ruse to get brownie points with him?

“fuck- fuuuuck…!” he starts stroking himself, palm swiping from base to tip, squeezing his cockhead a hair. dull pleasure swirls deep inside of his stomach, and he moves his hips into his palm, the friction downright addictive.

he imagines you in that outfit, your tits and ass basically out for the world to see. maybe you’d let your friend drag you out to her silly party. maybe you’d act shy there too, skirting around the sidelines of the dance room, sipping nervously on your drink. maybe the alcohol would make your head buzz a bit and you’d get a bit bolder. maybe you’d let some douchey frat bro feel you up, that dumb bastard not knowing how good he has it by getting your attention.

shoyo groans under his breath. god, you shouldn’t be wasting your energy and time on stupid college boys. all they would do is exploit you and leave you for dead, even though you were clearly the best thing to walk into their lives.

he thumbs over his weeping tip, moaning throatily as he presses into his slit. his chest rises and falls, the electric feeling making his knees go weak. touching himself never felt this good. nothing came close to that buzzing high of being deprived of you.

his mind doesn’t stop wandering. raunchy thoughts of you dancing floods his brain. he imagines you grinding up against him, your soft ass pressing up against his crotch. he’d buck his hips against yours, let the heat mount as his hands wander over your body, that skimpy outfit of you doing nothing to protect you from him. you’d glance back at him, feeling his strong chest up on your back, the muscles of his arms tensing when you pull him flush against you. your eyes would have that drunken haze to them, intoxicated off of whatever was in your cup and getting down and dirty with your professor.

it reminds him of his own idiotic undergraduate days, ones he thought he matured past when he became a proper working adult. clearly not, if the thought of dancing with you and feeling you up has him furiously fisting his hard cock.

he needs to be inside you. he doesn’t want to feel his hand on his cock anymore. he wants to ruin that pristine image you have. he wants to see you crying and moaning, going from his stellar unassuming pupil to some cock crazed slut, begging for him to fuck you harder, to fuck you deeper, completely at his mercy. he wants to see your clothes in tatters with nothing to shield you from his almost animalistic lust, for you to see him as a proper grown man who wants to pamper you as much as he wants to ruin you rather than some stuffy professor.

it’s downright problematic how much he needs you. it’s more than just wanting to fuck you. no, he’s a gentleman. he wants you to want him, even if it’s only to ease the guilt nagging at his heart. you’re too smart for your own good, and yet when you’re surrounded by all these bad apples nipping at your heels and waiting for you to stumble, it’s no wonder that you’ve become so holed in.

you simply need someone who’ll treat you right. who’ll make you shine. who’ll be a proper lover, someone that can actually step up to that mantle.

“hah- god fucking dammit…! fuck- fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck- shit…! fucking hell, god- fuck!” his grip on his cock tightens, and he thinks his body is going to break. the dopamine buzz in his mind is almost explosive, and he knows he can’t control himself for much longer. he's close, so close, egged onto the edge by fantasizing about the thought of his student in a revealing party outfit.

what kind of scum did that make him? if his mind was any clearer, he might know, but it isn’t. all that his sex-riddled brain can make out is how badly he wants your body. he craves the weird sick satisfaction of being the one to stretch out your sweet hole with his girthy length, to fill every little bit of your womb up with pumps of his hot cum, to pleasure you so thoroughly that he’ll ruin sex for the rest of your life—unless it’s with him, of course.

you flicker behind his eyes again. your body trembles against his as he pretends he’s thrusting into you rather than his pre-cum drenched hand. your cunt quivers and tightens around him, and your face is stained with your tears. mascara runs down your cheeks, and your lipstick is smeared messily all over your mouth. your legs shake around his hips as he fucks into you, tip easily squeezing and abusing that sweet spot deep inside your body.

“what a pretty girl.” he’d praise you, take his sweet time making sure you get all the loving you deserve. “how could someone as pretty as you stay out of my sight for so long?”

the image of you in his mind bucks your hips back against him, and the pleasure that explodes around his cock has him weak in the knees. he’s so close, so close to giving you his seed, to marking you as his. he’s humping into you desperately, wanting you to feel that impeccable stretch, pierced and plowed by him, driven to madness by his infatuation.

“i’m here! i’m yours!” you pant out. you’re starstruck. smitten. everything he’s wanted.

“-kgh…!”

warmth overtakes his entire body, and strong ropes of cum escape from him. he grits his teeth, clenching his jaw and willing himself to keep his moans to himself. he’s dead meat if he gets caught masturbating to the thought of his student in his office. cum spills out all over his office floor and coats his hands, spilling and spilling like the pent up frustration bottled away in his heart. he furiously strokes himself through his orgasm, and sparks fly in his brain, pleasure coursing through his veins like one giant shockwave.

he throws his head back, gasping for air as his cock sputters, the last drops of virile cum leaking out and covering his fingers. his cock slowly softens in his hand, and he sucks in deep inhales, the cool air soothing the heat enveloping his entire body.

shoyo’s mind feels fuzzy and distant, like he’s been shoved out of this plane of existence temporarily. his limbs are weak, and his abs tense and coil in on itself as he forces himself to steady his breathing. his vision is blurred slightly around the edges, but the world emerges back into focus with each passing inhale and exhale.

he hasn’t even fully come down from his high, but he knows that the lack of guilt he’s feeling is wrong. he should feel bad, he should feel dirty, he should feel like he’s done something criminal. what professor jerks off to his student and doesn’t feel any sort of post-nut clarity? he swallows heavily, but the knot in his throat that should be there is nowhere to be found.

he doesn’t want to give his growing interest in you any more attention than it needs. the last thing he should be doing is fanning the flames, and just now, he fed the monster when he should be depriving it, starving it.

his gaze crests downwards, towards the pristine streaks of pearly cum all over his hand and the floor. he knows he’s beyond saving when he bitterly wishes all of it could have gone inside of you and your sweet pussy instead of being wasted on nothing.

“...let’s clean up,” he whispers to no one in particular. he hates the apathy he feels, reaching almost robotically for the kleenex he kept on his desk, not a single prick of guilt or wrongdoing stirring in his body as he moves clumsily through the aftershocks of his orgasm to rid the proof that he had even touched himself to the thought of you to begin with. you don’t have to know that he ever jerked off to you or the fact that his desire for you grows and festers like a rotten wound inside of his heart. because that is what it is in the eyes of everything that is moral and good: rotten.

but what you don’t know can’t kill you.

…

WEEK 10

you had dreaded the next mandatory meeting with professor hinata for a while now. you had done such a good job of keeping a low profile for a while now, only ever addressing your instructor when it was absolutely necessary and whatever interactions you needed so that he wouldn’t pick up on the fact that you were purposefully avoiding him.

you had also done a good job at keeping minnie’s eagerness at bay. your final project for professor hinata’s class was a very handy excuse to avoid going out to parties with her, and crunching the data also did an exceptional job at keeping you busy instead of moping about in your room alone.

you’d think at this point in the semester you’d have quit being so hung up over your ex and your general failure of a love life, but seeing that your romantic prospect was a crush on your professor that you were actively trying to get over for your own sake, clearly things weren’t looking great for you.

but this was something you couldn’t escape. you sit on your hands to keep yourself from more or less bolting out of professor hinata’s office. his eyes are glued to the monitors on his desk in good professor-like fashion, scanning over the work you’ve handed in for him to check.

you’ve done this song and dance before. you’ve been stuck in his office before, too scared to make eye contact with your professor out of fear as to your heart betraying you. you have to keep a firm grip on yourself, and you look at your professor but make it a point not to look at his face.

“man, i know i say this every time i look over your progress, but you really do outdo yourself. you deserve a pat on the back,” he remarks, smiling proudly as he leans back in his seat. “you’re definitely in a good place for where we are in the semester, and as long as you keep at it, i’d say you’ll easily get an a for your final grade.”

“thank you,” you quietly state. he’s dressed simply today, in a black turtleneck and jeans. it makes his bright orange hair stand out that much more, and you try with all your might not to stare too hard at the obvious outlines of his toned pecs and waist straining against the fabric of the sweater.

he looks good today too. you want to eat your own fist and curl up into a ball to cry. it was like for every step forward your determination took to keep yourself in check, professor hinata threw a screwball at you to make you take two steps back.

you wish things would go as smoothly as it did the last time you were here, vulnerable to his scrutiny and left with your own flimsy defenses. the same thick tension hangs in the air again, and you pray that you won’t act out of place.

“so,” his voice cuts through your thoughts, like it always does. he knows how to catch you right off guard, wedging himself right into the split-second crack in your judgment. “all i’ve got to say is that i’m excited to see your actual final all put together. your findings are going to be really interesting, and i’m also looking forward to comparing what you find against whatever conclusions minnie draws from the same data. i don’t mean to get so personal again, but the two of you are so different that i wonder if your findings will be that stark too.”

you inhale, fixing your eyes on a spot behind him as if it was ritual to ground yourself that way. “i won’t spoil too much of her stuff, but she also has some pretty cool ideas. she’s told me some things that i wouldn’t have thought to consider in her part of the project, so… just something to get you more hyped!”

he chuckles, the low cadence of his voice making your heart flutter a beat. “i’ll take your word for it. i hope she’s treating you well. i know that you know your bond with her better than i ever will, but i really hope her energetic personality isn’t too overbearing for you. you come to me if you have any issues, okay?”

“i appreciate it. but i’m fine, really. she’s a lot, i know, but she means it out of love,” you reply methodically. this isn’t the first time someone has scrutinized your relationship with her, often misconstruing her enthusiasm and your more quiet personality to her mistreating you. sure, you two don’t see eye-to-eye about everything, but you wouldn’t hold her so close if she wasn’t someone who would see things through thick and thin for you.

he nods. “alright, i trust you. but it never hurts to be vigilant. take it from someone with a bit more life experience than you do: people can still hurt you and claim that it’s from a place of love. this isn’t to say that minnie’s a bad person, but you and i have something special. i want you to stay safe.”

something lodges in the back of your throat. your mind swirls dangerously, and you can’t think. special? you and him have something special? you almost laugh unconsciously; it’s like despite all the work you did to keep your heart under lock and key, he’s determined to burrow his way in there.

you hate how easily you crumble. all it took him was one well timed sentence with that stupidly charming voice of his, and it made weeks on weeks of self-imposed deprivation disappear like dust.

“don’t worry, i’ve been doing a lot of work to take care of myself. do you remember that ex i told you about? after him, i did a lot of work reevaluating the people closest to me and whether or not i trusted them blindly,” you hesitate, pursing your lips and sucking your cheeks in a little. you comb over your next thoughts carefully. talking with professor hinata is a mental game of its own, and you feel like you’re playing against an impossible opponent. “there’s… definitely a more eloquent way for me to have phrased all of that, but… you get the point.”

“i do. god, you poor thing. how could anyone hurt someone like you like he did? i know i’m biased as your professor, but even then… you’re so bright and kind. he really fumbled. that’s my two cents.” his shoulders shake a bit as he laughs, the sound coming from somewhere deep inside of his chest. your stomach feels queasy, and every part of your body wants to swoon. your attraction to him is trouble. it’s fatal.

you dig your nails into the flesh of your palms. the stinging pain does little to bring you back to your good conscience, but it’s something to focus on other than the hazy lapses in judgment that dance inside your mind. “it’s all growing pains. this is what being an adult means, doesn’t it? you said so yourself last time we talked. there’s bound to be someone better out there in the world.”

you don’t need to look at him to know that he’s looking at you. the office feels constricting and so much smaller than you remember it to be, as if the walls are actively moving in closer and keeping you trapped in there with your deathly charismatic professor.

“yes.” his voice drops a bit in volume, and it sounds almost intimate. “yes, i did say that.”

something possesses you. it creeps in quietly, like a drop of ink dispersed into a glass of clear water. no, you shouldn’t say that; whatever was plaguing you had taken root months ago. whatever you were trying to save was just a remnant of the ruin in your head. you swallow thickly, almost like you were trying to press your logic, your goodness, your moral conscience back down into nothingness.

you lift your face. his sweet eyes are there to greet you, and they light up when you meet his gaze. his eyes are warm and welcoming, and you’re instantly entranced. he’s beautiful, insanely beautiful, and the brown color has you floored. you want to reach out and cup his face, and you want to just stare into his eyes forever. it’s like he’s a siren that’s called out to you specifically, tempting you to inch closer and to let him take you away, entranced forever. your lips start quivering. you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t reflect and let out one last pathetic struggle to cling to what you know to be right.

maybe things would have been different then. maybe if you tried harder, you’d have picked the morally correct thing. maybe you’d walk out of professor hinata’s office unscathed, your relationship tense but still at the boundary it should be at, and you’d graduate and put your crush behind you as nothing more than a silly infatuation.

but you don’t. some repressed part of your mind slips. the words tumble from your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“i wish it could be you.”

you instantly throw your hands over your mouth, your eyes widening in shock. regret flashes through your entire being, and your face burns with shame. professor hinata gasps softly, but he doesn’t say anything.

“sorry-,” you fumble, your stomach twisting into horrid knots. panic shoots through your brain, and you’re screaming internally at yourself. you want to say something, anything, apologize profusely, but the gears in your head won’t turn. your entire mental processes are overrun with nothing but sheer panic, and you feel like your brain has turned into a piece of useless metal. “i-i’m sorry…! i didn’t mean it like that- i wasn’t thinking… i just- i don’t know what came over me.”

“hey, hey, calm down.” he reaches forward, leaning over his desk, and a firm hand plants itself on your knee. you almost jerk away from him, like his touch would hurt you, and your professor can see the wild, feral fear in your eyes.

it’s one thing to deal with your illicit feelings on your own, but to accidentally blurt them and make them known to him? to professor hinata? the very object of your forbidden affections?

“it’s okay. it’s okay. i’m being serious, it’s alright. there’s no need to freak out.” his words cut into the blinding flurry of thoughts in your head. “talk to me, here. you good?”

you nod frantically, forcing a deep breath in through your nose. “i’m fine. i’m okay, i promise. i… please ignore what i just said.”

he retracts his hand. he swallows, and you can see his adam’s apple bob underneath the neckline of his turtleneck sweater. you should know better than to look into his eyes again, not when every time looking into his face spelled trouble for you, but when you stare up at him helplessly, he looks nothing like the bubbly, carefree professor you knew.

his pupils are blown wide open, and there’s a kind of intensity settling inside of his eyes that you’ve never seen before. his lips are parted just slightly, like he’s about to say something but the words are caught on the tip of his tongue. a shiver tiptoes down your spine. he looks like a man haunted, the once cordial candlelight-esque brown of his irises running big and reckless like a wildfire.

you don’t recognize this side of him, but you don’t dislike it either. you lick your lips quickly, suddenly aware of your extremely dry mouth.

he lets out a deep exhale through his nose. “...i need you to listen to me.”

“i am,” you squeak back. your mind flashes back to minnie, to your superstar queen bee of a roommate. how would she navigate something like this? knowing her, she would navigate this gracefully. she could probably play it off as a joke and laugh around with professor hinata. she could bat her eyelashes and charm him, maybe pass this off as a bit of awkward flirting and walk away scot free. you’ve never had the same social grace that she manages to pull off so effortlessly.

“i… i apologize if i’m reading too much in between the lines.” he sounds strained, as if he’s holding a part of him back. his eyes are locked onto you, honed in as if you’ll skirt away out of his sight. “but i don’t think either of us can ignore whatever it is we have going on. i want to make myself clear here. i am your professor, and you are my student. the mature, responsible thing for me to do as your instructor is to ignore your remark and to move on. if that is what you want, then i will let you walk out of my office. we can pretend nothing happened. everything that happened here stays between us.”

you pause, and you wring your hands together. you know that that’s the choice you should take. that your relegated role in this song and dance is to be the good kid and to never stray away from your place as a nobody bookworm with good grades and nothing special. and yet your mouth moves, “...is there another option?”

he clenches his jaw. he has to be at his limit, just as much as you are. you see the edge in his eyes, flaring like sparks, waiting for you to touch and him to come away burned. you don’t care. you’re hurtling straight at the point of no return, and you’re burning up, beautiful and flaming and waiting to be consumed into nothingness.

“i… we take care of this whole thing. but i want to make sure you want this as much as i do. i hope you understand the gravity of what this means for both of us. it’s very, very wrong for a teacher and a student to be in love with each other.” professor hinata takes a big breath in, and he shoves his hand through the wild tufts of his orange hair. “but if you are insistent on pursuing this route with me, so long as you’re willing to accept your responsibility, then…”

he stops, and he whispers the last part, barely and only loud enough for your ears, “...i can’t say that i can refuse you.”

your hands curl into decisive fists in your lap. so this is where you are. these are the conditions that life has mercilessly thrown at your feet. your heart and brain are at odds with each other. your mind screams at you to think of your future, that your life would certainly be ruined if anyone would find out that you had an illicit relationship with your professor. and what about him? it would spell a certain social death for him too if he were to be found out.

but your heart begs. you’ve ignored its cries for basically your entire life now, always picking the expected thing, pushing down your own wants in exchange for the security and the safety of a quiet life. this is one time in your life that you’ve truly wanted something, truly yearned for it with your entire existence. how is it fair to deny this from yourself? haven’t you given enough up? you gave up sociability when making friends with minnie, gave up a chance at normalcy when breaking up with your ex, and now love with professor hinata?

“i know there’s a right answer, professor hinata,” you hang your head. uneasiness claws at your ribcage, but the desire bubbling up inside of you hurts even more. “but i’m sorry. i don’t think i have it in me to be good anymore.”

he waits a beat, and the silence hangs above you like the weight of a million sins. the laugh he lets out is airy, relieved. “i was hoping you’d say that. well… come here. let me have you.”

you don’t know how you don’t trip over your own feet as you get up. you walk over to him as if in a trance, looking down at your professor with shaking eyes. he looks so confident as he grins up at you, legs spread slightly in that old office chair of his, every part of him just as inviting and tempting as the day you first laid eyes on him.

you’re practically crawling into his lap, and his strong arms are around you. his mouth is instantly on yours, and you gasp, the feeling of soft lips consuming you entirely. this wasn’t your first kiss by a long shot, but it was your first kiss with him. and god, it was everything those stupid romance movies made a kiss out to be: electric, addictive, leaving you dizzy and giddy and reeling in his embrace.

you’re glad he’s there to hold you. you place your hands shyly on his chest, warmth pooling in your stomach when you can feel the strong tension of his muscles. you never realized you were this downright touch starved, basically melting into putty in his hands as he kisses you over and over again, the hushed sounds of your lips locked together and breathless pants filling the room.

your head spins. this must be the charm of an experienced lover. his touches mold into yours, adjusting to you and making you feel as if you can put your trust wholly into him. his tongue laps at your lips, and you let him in, let him swirl his tongue deep into your mouth. you feel so full on the inside, your chest swelling with everything you’re repressed coming out now in droves. his tongue moves around yours, and your ears drink up the lewd sounds of your french kissing.

his hands grasp at you firmly, memorizing your touch and the way your body feels under his palms. his thick thighs make for the perfect seat, and you cling to him as he kisses you. making out with him feels like an eternity but also as if no time has passed at all, whisked away into the special place meant solely for lovers, sincerely lost in your own world with him. he feels so good around you and under your skin, even better than the fleeting fantasies you might allow yourself to have.

a strand of saliva connects the two of you when he pulls away from you finally. your chest heaves as you gulp down oxygen, your fingertips shaking as you curl them into the soft fabric of his sweater.

“you…,” he gasps, unable to tear his eyes away from your clearly shaken form, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that to you.”

heat nestles deep inside your stomach. it’s wicked and possessive, but you want to be special to him. and now you know that you are, your desire to have more of him is insatiable. something throbs and pulses within your core, and it’s pitiful just how weak you are to him after a handful of well-executed kisses. fuck having any kind of stupid romance with some dumb college boy your age: none of them could even dream of leaving you this stunned and your body itching for literally anything more.

you grasp at him. “please- please, more- kiss me again… i need it- i need more-”

“-shhh, i’ve got you, pretty.” he moves in so close to your face, his lips only a breath away from yours. you’ve never had someone kiss you so carnally before, his desire emanating off of him in thick waves. you’re probably no better, begging for your hot professor to make out more with you as if his tongue wasn’t down your throat mere seconds ago and as if it isn’t his spit that’s coating your lips thickly.

it feels right. there’s no other way for you to describe him kissing you again. his lips move so gently against yours and yet brims with a kind of brutish need. it’s like he doesn’t want to scare you away but can barely contain himself, not when he has you right where he wants you. you don’t mind. you want him to be greedy, and you want him to take you wholly.

you’re so happy, and you love it when his tongue is in your mouth, guiding your clumsy movements. it’s lewd kissing you’ve only seen couples do through the drunken haze of some seedy frat basement during a crazy party or in a raunchy porn video, and you get it. it finally clicks inside your head why people go crazy for these kinds of things, why people lose their minds when they’re unable to fully get a grasp over their own sexual needs. it’s like an awakening for you, as if some monster that had been caged in your heart is now breaking free of its restraints.

you moan shamelessly into professor hinata’s mouth. you need more. just kissing isn’t enough, only having his tongue in your mouth isn’t enough. the pounding between your hips won’t go away, and if anything, it’s getting worse with each passing second. he’s turning you on, and your body refuses to listen to you. but why should you hold back? he’s right there for you, and you’re willing to give yourself to him without any room for regret.

“please-,” you sound so needy, so desperate, so unlike any part of the removed personality you kept around your professor. “touch me more… i need you, professor-”

“-don’t call me that,” he whispers against your mouth. “shoyo. call me shoyo. i’m not your professor right now.”

“shoyo,” the name tastes like sticky sweet honey against your mouth, “touch me, shoyo.”

his hands snake down to your waist, and he looks at you expectantly as his fingertips slip under your shirt. you shudder when his fingertips press firmly into your skin and flesh, like a reminder of what you’re getting yourself into. “good girl. do you want me to go all the way with you right now?”

“yes! god, please, yes- shoyo, take me.” you bury your head into the crook of his neck. his calming scent floods your nose, and you think you’re going into heat. “i’ve never needed someone more in my life.”

something hard presses up against your crotch. he grunts, “that’s a dangerous thing to say to me.”

you let him lift your shirt away from your body, coaxing it gently over your head before tossing it somewhere onto his office floor. your body heats up, blood pumping under your skin. you prickle slightly against the cold office air, and you bite down a bit on your tongue. his hands crawl up the expanse of your stomach and up to your chest, and he looks at you as if he’s been starved.

“god, you drive me crazy,” he breathes. your voice catches somewhere in the back of your throat. you can feel the warmth of his palms hovering over your breasts, the thin fabric of your bra doing nothing to protect you from him. “to think you’ve been hiding from me this entire time, right under my nose…”

you gasp when he gropes you through your bra, his hands molding against your breasts. you fill his palms out so easily, and you grind down against his lap, sparks flying inside of your mind. you grip onto him again, breathing needily against the crook of his neck as he plays with your chest, letting you adjust to the feeling of his heavy hands on your body.

he touches you so sweetly and so beautifully. not like the clumsy horny ways boys your age would, but with confidence and reverence, like he purposefully wants to take his time with you. you whimper when his fingers hook into the cups of your bra, and you let him yank it down to fully free your chest.

your pussy throbs when his hands are on your bare breasts. he massages the soft flesh, chuckling softly whenever he hears you keen and choke out a breath into his neck. his fingers find your nipples quickly, and heat flares under your cheeks and inside your gut when he pinches at them gently, your body reacting faster to his touch than your mind can.

you grind down onto his lap, feeling his hard bulge in between your thighs. you need more, need something inside you.

he grits his teeth when he feels you trying to hump his clothed cock. “careful, sweetheart. i’m trying to take my time with you.”

his hands move to your back, fully undoing your bra and letting it drop forgotten to the floor. you don’t care. you want him all over your body. you want his calloused hands all over your tits, pinching and teasing your nipples, filling out his hands with your breasts, like your body was made to match his.

“i know-,” you sound shaky. you are shaky, barely holding yourself together. you clench your eyes shut as he plays with your tits again. pleasure surges downwards every time he plays with your sensitive nipples, rubbing his fingertips into them or just letting the skin-to-skin contact get to your head. “i just- i can’t- i can’t control myself anymore, shoyo-”

“i got you, i got you,” he laughs. if only you could know his own madness, the insanity that runs rampant in his mind knowing that he can have you in any way he wants. “shit, and i thought i’d take it slow. be a good gentleman for you. clearly that isn’t making the cut.”

you let out a small shriek as he lifts you from his lap, and the next thing you know, you’re slumped over his desk. your bare chest is against the cold wood of his workspace, and he hovers above your back, your ass against his crotch. you whimper into his desk, and your breath fogs up against the polished wood.

your cunt clenches painfully around nothing as he grinds his hips into your ass, his erection rubbing all over your thighs and butt. your saliva pools inside your mouth when you hear him groan and buck his hips into you, mimicking the motions of penetrative sex as he drinks up the friction. his hands hold firmly at your hips and waist, anchoring himself to your body.

he doesn’t need to do much. if you can already feel him this prominently, just how big was his dick?

“i-i can feel so much of you already.” you glance back at him. the thrums of arousal inside you are almost unbearable. you don’t feel like yourself, only like a husk of person fiending for release.

“yeah?” his grip on you tightens slightly, and he peers down at you. “fuck- have you had sex before? is this your first time?”

“no, it isn’t- i’ve had sex before- with a few guys on campus and mostly with my ex…,” you trail off, not wanting to think about it any further. “it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t count.”

he chuckles, shaking his head at your small joke. “can you feel how hard i am? how big i am?”

“yes,” you exhale. you want him inside you. you want him to take your pants off already and stick his cock inside your cunt. you want him to make a mess out of your insides, to take the weeks of pent up lust and to let it loose. you want your pussy to be ravaged by him, for him to not stop until you’re a wreck underneath him. “so big… i want it so bad…”

“am i bigger than your ex?” it’s a question posed dangerously, a blade wrapped in cloth. you dip your face down so that your forehead touches the wood. you nod shakily, glad that you have his desk to hold onto for support so that your knees don’t give out.

he smirks. the ends of his mouth curl upwards into a cruel smile. it’s the satisfaction of a predator right as it’s about to sink its teeth into its prey, relishing the sadistic thrill of knowing that his influence, that his power remains on top.

“forget everything about that boy,” he spits the last word, as if it’s something bitter. “you feel me? feel this cock? yeah, i know you do. this is how big a real man’s cock is.”

you might as well have had the wind knocked out of you. his hands make their way to your pants, and you move with him, letting them fall by your ankles. your panties follow suit, and you’re left shivering with anticipation against his desk, fully naked. nothing can protect you from his wandering eyes now, and while you can’t see him, you can feel his gaze boring into your exposed cunt.

you can feel how wet you are, your imagination doing the most in making you feel like you were going to overheat while making out with him. your slick drips out of your hole, and your cunt weeps, begging for something to fill you up and get rid of that incessant ache in your belly.

“turn over,” he commands you. any sense of the warm professor you used to shirk around is gone, replaced by an intensity entirely foreign to you. you comply, and you gasp when shoyo sinks down to his knees. his hands are on your knees, and he pries your legs apart to slot himself. you’re fully laying on his desk at this point, and his face is mere inches away from your hole.

“i-...” you don’t know what to say. you feel like you’re going to choke on your own breath, embarrassment at having a man so close to your pussy threatening to consume you whole.

shoyo, on the other hand, is utterly entranced. the sight of your bare cunt has him bewitched. his cock throbs painfully inside of his pants. the little tease he got from you trying to grind down on him and then rubbing himself against your ass has done nothing but wet his appetite, and he knows how much he’s been waiting painstakingly for this moment.

your voice dies out in the back of your throat when he grabs your thighs, and before you know it, his mouth is on your cunt. he kisses your pussy, and you nearly buck your hips into his mouth. his tongue laps in between your lower lips sensually, coating his mouth in as much of your juices as he can. his grip on you is firm, making sure that you can’t wiggle away from him. he wants you to feel every single second of him eating you out, make sure you feel his tongue against every part of your hole.

his tongue captures your clit, swirling slowly around the sensitive bud. you clench your eyes shut, and the first shockwaves of pleasure shoot straight to your brain. “ah- shoyo- fuck-!”

he keeps kissing and sucking at your clit, determined to shower you with so much attention. he takes his time. he flicks the tip of his tongue against the bud, leaving you recoiling against the cool material of his desk, and he presses the broad of his tongue against it, letting you grind down how you want into his mouth. he mimics your movements, and you’re left gasping and mewling when he moves down. teasing your clit turns into broad licks up your slit, and your thighs shake and threaten to close around his head if it weren’t for his firm grip on you.

his tongue circles your hole, and he smirks into you when he can feel you quiver and clench around him. he’s snaking himself all over your cunt, lavishing each part of your pussy with a good dosage of love and spit. every time he drags his tongue against your slit, threatening to slip into your hole but not quite, you’re left reeling in the aftermath. you need something inside you, anything. you’re so horrendously turned on, and as much as the clitoral stimulation has you seeing stars, you need more.

“shoyo…” god, he loves it when you moan out his name. he just can’t get enough of the way the syllables roll off of your tongue, and you choke out his name, elongated the sound and clinging to his name as if he’s the only thing you’ve ever known.

your pussy continues to drool for him, and he’s smacking his lips, drinking up every drop of your juices as if he can’t get enough. it’s a perfect reminder of how much he wants you. he thinks you’re perfect, a gift sent down from whatever divinity might be out there, hand-crafted to take his love and to love him in return. you taste heavenly on his tongue, your slick coating his mouth thickly. with each swallow, it’s like you’re becoming a part of him, and it makes him dizzy.

you tremble under his touch. he keeps capturing your clit the way you like it best. he teases you, lets you feel pleasure. the pleasured hums of his voice vibrate against your clit, constantly stimulated by his tongue and lips. the throngs of arousal inside your gut keep mounting, growing, twisting and coiling it on itself, keeling to be freed, to be let loose so you can cum all over his mouth as if you’ve lost all control of your body.

“feels good-,” your breathing shakes as you reach down, grabbing a fistful of his bright orange hair. the man moans in such a depraved manner against you, and you clench painfully, your pussy feeling as if it’s contorting into a way physically impossible from how sheerly aroused you are. “make me cum, please! ‘m so close- wanna cum- wanna cum in your mouth, shoyo…! you’re making me feel so good!”

“yeah?” he detaches himself momentarily. he licks his lips and swallows, chest heaving at your sweet taste overwhelming all of his senses. his brain is screaming for him to fuck you, but he doesn’t want to. he wants to see you feel good from just his mouth first, to coax one orgasm out of you so that your nerves are properly awakened. that would make fucking your pussy out on his cock so much more worthwhile. “am i making you feel good, pretty girl? enough to beg for it?”

you nod feverishly, even though you should know that he can’t see you. your drenched pussy speaks enough for itself. he’s too good at this, the experience under his belt shining through. there’s no stupid boy your age that would even think of doing you a courtesy like eating you out until you’re shaking, and here’s shoyo, eagerly lapping at your cunt without you even needing to ask.

“cumming- gonna cum- please, please, fuck…! your tongue feels so good- love it so much when you lick at me like that…,” you whimper. your back arches against the desk, and your body twitches, wanting to ride his tongue and make a mess all over his mouth. shoyo doesn’t stop his relentless movements, and he continues to suck at your clit.

arousal curls and unfurls like a pulse deep inside your stomach. you’re teetering on the edge, and you feel like you’re going crazy. your mind is turning into jelly, your wildest fantasies about your professor coming true right before your eyes, and your pussy can’t take everything happening to you. you shut your eyes again, gritting your teeth and bracing yourself for the orgasm that you’re sure is going to slam into you like a brick wall.

his tongue slithers expertly against your drenched cunt, and he presses a sticky kiss to your clit. your stomach curls inward at the intimate touch, with him pleasuring you as if it's his given duty as your lover, and that’s all it takes.

“shoyo!” you cry out, your thighs nearly wrenching themselves out of his hands. “i’m cumming- fuck! fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck-...! fuck me, fuck me, please! ah- i’m cumming…!”

he keeps on pressing his mouth all over your pussy as you cum on his mouth. red hot pleasure floods your entire body, sweeping you away from head to toe, and your thighs quiver like mad. your body feels so hot, so overwhelmed by a pleasure you’ve never had before, and your vision spins. you can’t think, not when every inch of your body has been tossed into overdrive so effortlessly by him, and your inner walls twist achingly.

you wish it was his cock you were cumming on. you’re breathless and succumbing to how good it feels to have your hole ravished by his mouth, and he eats you out through your orgasm. he’s determined to swallow up every drop of your slick, and it’s not until you’re whimpering again and pushing his forehead back weakly that he detaches himself from between your legs.

“shit, you taste so fucking sweet,” shoyo groans. he sounds almost disappointed that you pushed him off of you, your slit tingling and desperate for something bigger. the lower half of his face is shiny with your juices and spit mingling together, and he licks his lips, making sure not to let a single drop escape him. “fuck- i could eat you out all day if you’d let me. pretty girl’s got a pretty pussy too.”

your hole flutters in excitement at his praise. heat and embarrassment at the sudden intimacy flickers underneath your face, and your head is still buzzing, not fully done with your sexual high. your chest rises and falls as you rest on his desk, splayed out for him to admire as he gets up from his knees and undoes pants. you can hear the shuffling of fabric and metal as he takes off his belt and pants. your mouth goes dry as you think about his cock and how big it felt when the two of you were grinding and humping each other for a split second, and now you’re finally getting him to fuck you on it.

he lets out a low, throaty moan as he takes the last of his clothing off, and his cock is nice and hard, drops of pearly pre-cum dripping from his tip. he’s aroused that it hurts, but there’s something about seeing you still recoiling from your orgasm, the rush of pride he gets knowing that he got you off using just his mouth, makes the pain of waiting a bit longer to fuck you so much more worth it.

“how are you feeling? you doing okay?” he asks you. he grabs his cock, stroking himself a few times from base to tip, his thumb sliding over his sensitive slit to spread his pre-cum all over himself. you nod wordlessly, starting to come back down to your plane of reality as you let him slide himself in between your legs again.

you freeze when you feel his cock against your slit, and he rubs himself up and down in between your lower lips. the dull pangs of arousal are bubbling up in your gut once more, and your slick is mixing with his pre-cum to coat his cock in a makeshift kind of lube.

“d-do you have any condoms…?” you eke out. it’s his bare dick against your body right now, and as intoxicating as the thought of taking him raw and letting him stuff every inch of your womb with his cum is, you still have to think straight.

he grabs at your hips, bringing himself flush against your body. a moan catches in the back of your throat when his tip grazes against your sensitive clit, and he chuckles to himself when he sees you twitch. “not at the moment. i’ll take care of you. can you trust me?”

there’s a lump in your throat, and some deeply dead part of you sobs out that you should be responsible. but you don’t care, not when you’re this close to finally having him inside you, not when he promises to take responsibility for you. you move your head, unable to fully meet his eyes, and you nod your head yes.

“good girl,” he laughs sweetly. “you ready for me?”

“yes! please, i want you inside me… want you to fuck me…,” you whine, your head lolling onto the desk underneath you. your pussy clenches at the thought of his raw bare cock rubbing against your insides, your walls clinging to every inch of his thick cock, and you’re so, so ready to take him.

he grips the base of his cock, and he lines himself up. he watches, enraptured, as your hole pulses around his cockhead. you groan needily as he fucks his tip in and out of you, just to watch your pussy cling to him, wanting to pull him in fully. you’re just about to whine and complain when he finally pushes himself in, and your breathing dies out in your chest as your walls stretches out to adjust to him being inside you.

“...fuck-! ah- you’re so big-,” your voice immediately starts slurring as he pushes past the resistance. it burns yet it feels deathly euphoric to have something stretching you out like that, to feel every bit of your pussy being invaded and stuffed out onto shoyo’s girthy cock. you’re coaxing him in effortlessly, and his fingers curl into the flesh of your waist and hips as he tries to ground himself.

he sucks in a harsh inhale through his gritted teeth, his eyebrows furrowing. you’re so tight and wet and downright heavenly wrapped around his length. he can’t stop looking between your legs, right where the two of you are joined together for the first time, but you’re squeezing and fluttering around him just right even though all he did was put it in. it’s taking all of his concentration not to waver and lose himself in the feeling.

jerking off desperately by himself doesn’t even come close to how good your pussy feels. he could stay like this forever, feeling your velvety walls pulse around him, wanting to pull his cock in even further until he swears his tip is kissing the entrance to your womb. he takes in a deep breath, and he does his best to clear his head so he can start fucking you properly.

“you’re so fucking tight… shit, did you want my cock that badly?” he manages out shakily. “fuck, it’s like your pussy’s milking me already, sweetheart.”

“mhm… it’s so, so big…,” you murmur, dazed. “never- never had cock like this before- you’re filling me up… feels like you’re in my stomach.”

“yeah? does it feel good?” he’s waiting for you to give him the all clear. your face is scrunched up, and as desperate as he is to start fucking into you like an animal, he knows better than to be a ruffian. your pleasure always comes first. that’s what real men do.

you nod weakly for what feels like the millionth time. your nerves are on fire, your previous orgasm only accentuating how much you can feel him pressed against you. his cock rubs just right against your sensitive walls, and you can’t imagine what actually having him thrusting into you is going to do to your body. “yes- so good- i’m gonna lose my mind, shoyo…”

“good answer.” he reaches over to move a strand of your hair away from your face. “i’m gonna start moving, okay? if something hurts or doesn’t feel right, you tell me right away. i’m here to make you feel good, and nothing else.”

your heart skips a beat. in a sea of fuckboys and idiot college boys that couldn’t care less about your well-being, someone like him feels less like a real person and more like a character straight from a fairy tale. “okay- you can fuck me- i want you to fuck me.”

he draws his hips back and thrusts slowly into you. you gasp, acutely aware of the sensation deep inside of you. your pussy revels at how he rubs against you, gripping onto his cock for dear life as he fucks his length in and out of you. it’s such a painfully slow pace, but you savor the feeling, savor the new stimulus of having your professor’s cock buried deep inside you. you want to commit to memory, because it’s unlike anything you’ve ever had before.

heat flares back up inside your belly again, settling and slithering in repeated coils between your hips. your vision blurs once more, and arousal creeps back into your mind, threatening to overtake every single one of your conscious thoughts. “faster, shoyo- wanna feel more of you- you’re torturing me…!”

“sorry- i can’t help it,” he laughs bitterly, his voice hushed and under his breath. “can you blame me for being obsessed with you? fuck- you’re so tight, hugging me like this… it’s like you were made to take me.”

your stomach curls in on itself at the sweet praise. you hate how easily he toys with your heart, how easily he can make you swoon and fall for him all over again, leaving you dancing and squirming right underneath the palm of his hand. literally. you swallow deeply, and it feels like there’s no inch of your body that the unbearable heat hasn’t spread to.

“faster, please- i need you so bad!” you sob, nearing your limit. cumming from his tongue was only an appetizer, and you’re hungry for more. you’ve starved yourself long enough, and his slow pace isn’t doing any favors for you. you roll your head left and right on his desk, unable to control yourself.

“you want it? prove it to me.” his voice drops a few notes, and your cunt unconsciously clenches at how dark his words sound. it’s yet another potent reminder of the man buried inside of you right now, a real man who’s determined to make you his, prince and criminal, craved and craving, dreamy and filthy all at once. “look me in the eye then. look me dead on as i fuck you.”

you let out a loud moan. his words are fucking dirty, and when he rolls his hips into you, drinking up the excruciatingly addictive way your pussy clings to his dick, you think your body is actually going to give out on you. it’s not like he’s asking for you to do anything obscene or impossible, but there’s something so disgustingly erotic and intimate about him asking you to look him straight in his face—in his eyes—as he makes love to you.

the desk is warm underneath your body, all warmed up thanks to your body heat. it’s become your subconscious refuge, taking all of your thrashing as he had his way with you, and you don’t want to think about the sure mess you’re bound to leave in your wake. your breathing trembles as you forcibly turn your face towards his, ripping your wavering gaze away from the safety of whatever else you were staring at.

your eyes meet his, and he smiles at you adoringly. there’s no more running away from him, nowhere to escape to, your eyes locked together and dancing in his pupils. you’re rendered breathless again at the vibrant color, like your own life is being squeezed from between your lips. you can’t move, and your chest feels like it’s about to cave in on itself, your ribs giving out and your heart melting into a puddle of useless muscle and putty. but this time, strangely enough, you welcome the helpless feeling. he’s got you wrapped around his pinky finger, and you finally realize that you never stood a chance.

that very first day, in that fatefully empty classroom, when you first met eyes with him, you were a fucking goner. you always were. always had been. and it was all his fault, all professor hinata’s fault.

all hinata shoyo’s fault.

“good girl.” he looks at you in a way only a lover would. his eyes soften around the edges and crinkles up as he grins. “don’t ever look away from me.”

“i won’t,” you promise. it’s the last thing you could dream of doing. not when you want it so badly, and not when he’s asking you verbatim. how could you deny him of the very thing he’s asking you to do? especially when it’s something that you’ve always been mustering up the courage to do? this is your big leap forward, your chance to prove to yourself that you can change.

he leans forward, and he lets you wrap your arms around his neck. you refuse to drop your gaze from his face, admiring every small detail of his features and letting yourself drown fully in the wide expanses of his eyes. he presses one last romantic kiss to your mouth, and that’s the last warning you get, the last bit of sweetness and gentleness you get.

he draws his hips back, and he slams himself back into you roughly. you choke out a small moan, pleasure flooding your head. he doesn’t give you any time to recover from the recoil before he’s thrusting wildly back into you again. your hole is already slick and dripping wet from his teasing and your previous climax, and it makes it all the more easy for him to slide his length in and out of you, pace picking up speed and leaving you crying out as your surprise quickly morphs into electric pleasure.

“shit- so fucking tight- god, you’re going to kill me,” he grunts. you mewl and moan incoherently, clinging to him for dear life as he fucks into you over and over again. his tip prods against your deepest parts, and surges of pleasure climb all over your nerves. his hips slam against yours, and his balls slap against the curve of your ass. lewd, wet lovemaking noises echo throughout the small office, and it echoes even louder against your ears.

it feels good, it feels so good. you never knew pleasure like this was possible, that it even existed. you thought you knew everything there was to sex already, but clearly not, if shoyo has you practically melting in his arms, your limbs numb and surrendering wholly to how good he’s making you feel. your walls keep fluttering around him, and every thrust has you crying out.

“fuck- you feel so good- shoyo- shoyo, i’m losing my mind…!” you gasp. your nails dig into his back, and you claw at him like a feral cat. your thighs quiver around his hips, but he doesn’t let up his brutal pace. with each roll of his hips, it feels like he’s knocking the wind out of you. he’s determined to fuck you stupid, and it’s working. your grip on reality is slipping fast, with the throbbing pleasure in your head taking precedence over everything.

“go crazy for me then. you feel me inside you, don’t you? good. then you can feel firsthand how fucking crazy you make me.” he grabs your hips, and he angles them ever-so-slightly before ramming into you. you grit your teeth as a tense cry escapes from you.

the new angle has you seeing stars. you’re scratching at his back, your insides lurching and reeling and being stirred up like wild. “you’re so deep… so deep inside me! nnmgh…! you’re gonna make me cum so fast- make me cum again-“

“shit, already? am i fucking you that good?” his stomach is doing flips. you’re a sight for sore eyes, refusing to look away from him as if your life depended on it. his abs strain against him as he enjoys the experience of having sex with you, sex with the student that’s been dancing around him forever. you’re splayed out like a piece of art underneath him: all sweaty, breasts bouncing, legs spread with your soft cunt eagerly taking every inch of him.

your foreheads are basically touching when you nod your head. “yes! no one’s ever made me feel this good before- never had cock like yours-“

he almost laughs. oh, he’s bet you’ve never had anyone like him. what would your ex, your past flings know about pleasing women? all he wanted was to make you go crazy like this. he wants to sink you deep into pleasure, and he wants to make it so that you don’t ever think about other men after he’s done with you. he wants you in your entirety. he can’t do halfway.

“i told you already,” he purrs. his words drip off of his tongue like sticky syrup. “it’s because you’re having sex with a man this time. not with a boy. a real, grown man. someone that can take care of you. someone that can treat you right.”

it’s hard to think. he speeds up, leaving you fighting to keep your eyes open. the intense look in shoyo’s eyes are nothing like your own fucked out look, but at the same time, you’re sure the intoxicated gleam in his is the same as yours. is it love or desire that connects you two?

“most importantly…” his fingers dig into your flesh, securing your hips in place and leaving you at his mercy. you can feel your juices leaking out, coating your ass and making wet sounds whenever his hips smash into yours. he cranes his head, and his lips are almost on top of yours, threatening to close the gap and brush his lips across yours. “someone that can actually fuck you.”

oh fuck. you don’t stand a fucking chance against him. all of the sensations are rapidly racking up in your body, and with how deep he’s thrusting into you, you can barely hold onto yourself. you’re gonna cum soon again, you just know it. you feel the tightness inside your belly, and with how effectively he’s seducing you, whispering all kinds of lewd things and making sure that you keep your eyes locked on him while fucking you, you have nowhere to run away.

“i can’t take it- so rough- can’t take much more-,” you whimper. your mind is going blank, and all that you can think of is him. his body feels heavy and good on top of you, and having you scratch his back out of pleasure only spurs him on. he can feel you slipping and losing control of yourself, and he rocks you close to himself. he wonders if you can feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest, huffing short breaths as he keeps up his steady yet brutal pace.

he looks at you, and a smirk dangles off of his face. “yes, you can. you can take it. i know you can. you’ll be good for me, won’t you? let me make you feel good.”

your breathing hitches. it’s taking all of your mental strength not to topple over the edge right now. everything’s rushing too fast to your head right now, and all of your nerves are standing on edge, enthusiastically lapping up the pure euphoria coursing through your veins. but you want to make shoyo happy, you want to cum together with him, and as much as he said this lovemaking session was about you, you want to be able to match the pace he set.

“for you- just for you-,” you struggle to get the words out, the final syllables slurring together into a slight babble. so much for your usually well-put together, prudent academic facade. any trace of the well-trained, well-behaved student is long gone, replaced by a dirty, senseless, corrupted, and lascivious soul that lives and dies for shoyo’s love. “wanna be good- wanna be good only for you…”

“good. you’re mine. all mine,” he murmurs. the pleasure is sharp and dull all at once, all consuming and delicate, sinking you down into the murky waves inside the recesses of your mind only to drag you back to the surface, leaving you shuddering and grasping as if you had been drowned for real. shoyo likes it. he adores the reactions he gets out of you.

this is a kind of pleasure only he can give you. you’ve never had this with anyone else before, and he’ll make it so that you can’t find it from anyone else, not unless it’s with him. these faces you’re making, twisting in ecstasy and crying out with a voice like a songbird, are for him to enjoy only. they’re exclusive to him, only meant for his eyes, and he consumes it, fiending for more.

“shoyo- can’t- ‘t’s too good- i’m going crazy…!” you strain to breathe, your chest feeling inhumanly tight. parts of your brain light up like wired lights, blooming and flickering. you’re terribly close, and you know this one is going to take you whole and blow out any sense of being in your body. “shoyo- shoyo…”

“fucking christ- if you moan my name like that… you’ll make me want to do horrible things to you. so much more fucking worse than what i’m doing to you right now, sweetheart. this is just the start right here.” something pricks at your hips, and he digs his nails into your hips. he never thought himself to be such a possessive man, but he can’t deny the insanity that’s taken root in his brain for weeks now. it does something to him, to have his dick inside of you but to also hear you calling for him. him, him specifically, his name, emerging from your mouth as if he’s someone you revere. maybe at one point you did, but his yearning to have you turned him into something monstrous and all too human.

but perhaps that same madness overtook you and that was what brought the two of you together. shoyo finds it funny: the idea of something as sacred as love growing from something so depraved. and yet he’s fascinated by it, fascinated by the possibility that you’re no better than him, that your respect for him may just as easily be swapped for a kind of convenience to quell your own heart.

he doesn’t know what it all means. now isn’t the time for him to get philosophical. he’s balls-deep inside the pretty student he’s been pining over, and he’s so close to getting you to cum. wouldn’t that be a better reward than anything else he’s carefully built up? years of self preservation and swallowing down his personal desires for what’s “best” for his future be damned, he wants you. he wants you, he wants, he wants you.

you wonder if this is the end of your rope. you’re so close, so near the edge, and you’re clenching so desperately around his cock. you’re eclipsed entirely by the sight of your frightened and frantic reflection in his wide eyes, and you barely recognize yourself. so this is what you look like when you’re being mercilessly railed by your hot professor. your mouth is agape as you moan out for the male on top of you, face flushed and sweat beading your forehead like some kind of crown.

“gonna cum- gonna cum! shoyo- just a bit more-” your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. your body isn’t yours at this point, having given up in exchange for the fire that burns your core, the snakes inside your belly hissing and twisting and pulsing. “i’m cumming- gonna cum- i can’t hold back anymore-!!”

“go ahead,” he whispers. his mouth itches to kiss you, to swallow up your wounded gasps. he wants to feel your body go slack again like he had done once before, to push you into that wonderful place where nothing and everything was real at once. he’s sure your body’s overrun with complex sensations and pure euphoria, and he loves watching you turn into a shell of yourself. “cum on my cock, pretty girl. you’ll be mine, won’t you?”

you barely nod your head, and shoyo’s drawing his hips back and snapping them back into you at a particularly rough angle. you tense up underneath him, back arching and limbs going stiff. your eyes widen, gaze still connected with him, and your body fully gives out.

“sh- shoyo…!” your voice is shrill as you sob out one final moan, and your orgasm grips the entirety of your body. it feels good, it aches, it throbs, and it demands so much of you. your velvety walls clamp down on his thick cock like a vice, milking him and clinging to him, and your climax refuses to give shoyo a chance to breathe. he digs his ankles into the ground and keeps thrusting wildly into you, wanting to keep the flare swallowing you up going for a bit longer. he grits his teeth as you squirm underneath him, and you can barely keep your eyes open. you want to clench them shut and throw your head back so bad, but whatever little control you have remaining on your conscious keeps them open, just for him.

you’re fighting against the currents swirling and whirlpooling inside your brain. whatever heat was bottled up inside your body rushes out, and you’re cumming all over shoyo’s girth. he’s keeping you stretched out, and your stomach feels like it’s going to cave in on itself. it’s nothing but pure bliss, the kind that makes you feel as if you’re floating, and you’re rendered breathless, each inhale precious and fleeting and almost incognizant. your vision swims, and tears settle on your waterline, just threatening to topple over. your field of sight is blurry, and yet even amongst all of the chaos, you can make out the dapples of brown in shoyo’s eyes, forever in tandem with him as if he were a planet in orbit around your sun.

you’re gasping for air, finally having gotten the release you had been chasing for what felt like an eternity. shoyo breathes heavily and raggedly, as if he had run a marathon, and he’s barely holding on himself. your insides are fucking massaging him, stroking his cock all over, squeezing and hugging and rubbing all up against his sensitive length.

“shit- fuck-,” he chokes out. fuck- he didn’t expect that seeing you cum would take so much out of him. his mind is teetering, and his muscles strain against him, his abs prominent. you’re refusing to let go of him, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can genuinely hold on for. he should be responsible, at least try to pick up the pieces of the mess that you two made, and pull out, cum into a napkin or a trash can or his hand or literally anywhere inside of your sweet cunt, but whatever resolve inside his chest whimpers as if he’s killing it when the thought brushes against his mind.

he wants to cum inside you. he has to. he needs to go that extra step, cement himself physically into you, promise to take care of you again and again for whatever happens next. he’s a real lover, someone who’ll take all of your brokenness and insecurity and fear and make them dissolve and melt away as if it were sugar. he’s sure they’d be equally as sweet to, so long as it came from you.

“god- fuck- take me- i’ll take care of you- take care of anything that happens next- fuck- just… just stay with me-,” he breathes out, body shaking. a cry catches in the back of your throat when he fucks himself in as deep as he can go, his cockhead pressing right up against your cervix. he buries himself into you, and he leans forward, capturing your lips in one last deep kiss, tongue swirling in your mouth and filling up your senses entirely with him.

your moans are muffled by him when you feel him cum deep inside you. something hot and heavy floods your cunt, pumping into you in generous spurts. it’s warm, and his cock takes on a second pulse inside of you, like a heartbeat as semen trickles into your womb and all through your cunt. your body feels hot, every inch of your pussy drenched and coated with shoyo’s cum. a few stray drops escape from you, but with him pressing his body flush against you and his cock still stuffed inside your cunt, most of the cum remains plugged inside you as he gasps for air, his high overtaking him.

“fuck… fu-uck,” his voice is gruff and airy. “god- you keep fucking milking me- shit, i came inside too- oh god…”

he nearly collapses on top of you, and his chest is on yours. the two of you lay there, breathing deeply and just enjoying the post-sex warmth of each others’ bodies. you’re still buzzing slightly, your head heavy as if you had just woken up from a long nap, but regular feeling is starting to seep back into your limbs. your body is pulling itself out from the haze, and while exhausted and quite literally fucked out of your mind, you’re regaining control over yourself as the minutes pass.

you admire shoyo’s form, the beautiful curves of muscle all over his back and shoulders, the lines on his face that could come only with age. it’s too early for you to worry, too early to really know the true consequences of your actions, and yet, there’s something bittersweet at the tip of your tongue when you look down adoringly at shoyo. morally, you know that this can’t continue. the best course of action you could have taken was to not fuck him, but now that you’ve gone and crossed that bridge, the next best thing you can do is to nip this in the bud and to avoid making a habit of this.

but you already know that you’re not strong enough to do that. you can’t go back, not when you’ve had a taste of everything you’ve already wanted.

you wrap your arms around shoyo a bit tighter, and you hold him closer to your heart. he buries his head into the crook of your neck, the shaky eye contact that you had kept up with him now broken. he inhales deeply and takes in your scent, and you wordlessly both celebrate and mourn everything that had built up and broken in between you and the man you had pined after for so long.

“...i’ll go buy some plan b for you.” he’s the first to break the silence. “there are some napkins in my office that i can clean you up with. you stay put. i… i lost control of myself there, and i don’t want you to strain yourself. do you think you can eat and drink a bit?”

your mind is nowhere near as clear as you’d want it to be, but you rasp out quietly, “yeah. i’m okay.”

“do you have any classes after this? fuck- i lost track of time too. i can write you a note and email whatever professor you have after me. i’m sorry- i really shouldn’t have gotten that carried away.” shoyo peels himself off of your body, and a whimper of protest dies out in your mouth.

“i don’t have any classes. i’m basically free for the rest of the day, so you don’t need to worry about it. i- uh- i appreciate it though…” your arms feel cold and empty without him, and he maneuvers himself to grab a wad of napkins to position underneath your ass to catch the cum dripping out of you as he drags his now soft cock out.

you simultaneously feel empty and full all at once. his cum still undoubtedly lingers inside you, but without him physically in you, you feel as if something big has been sucked out of your soul. your stream of consciousness meanders to the idea of soulmates, and if this is what it must feel like.

you don’t know how to breach any further though. he’s immediately flipped his professional switch back on, cleaning both of you up without any further words, and you don’t think it’s proper though to keep demanding more from him. in his eyes, this might be nothing more than a bad lapse in judgment and not something he wants to keep pursuing in the same way you want to.

a lump forms in your throat at the thought, and your heart shakes. your heart physically hurts. it aches and throbs as if it were torn apart, the stringy sinews and muscles begging for at least a bone to be thrown your way.

you hang your head, swallowing your despair back down the best you can. it’s not your place. it’s not your place.

he hands you an unopened water bottle, and you mutter a solemn word of thanks before cracking the lid and gulping a few mouthfuls down. he’s bent over and collecting all of your clothes, mixed together with him, and despite still being naked in front of him, you don’t feel any shame at all. this whole charade shouldn’t have felt as good and guiltless as it does, and you don’t want this to leave on the melancholy note that it is.

but as shoyo slips his sweater back on over his head and adjusts his hair, it’s hard not to mistake his professionalism for distance. you’re aware that you aren’t proper lovers, no boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, but what kind of sane human doesn’t yearn for a sense of connection and reassurance after something so intimate? all you want is to cuddle with him for a few minutes longer, have him smile sheepishly up at you as he peppers kisses onto your face, his big calloused hands holding you firmly.

you set the water bottle down. reality is never as clear cut nor as easy as fantasy is, and at this point, that should be a revelation you’ve carved into your heart by now. you steel your resolve the best you can, the one thing you’ve learned better than any other lesson your painful years of adulthood have taught you, and you reach for your own clothes.

you look messy with your clothes haphazardly thrown on and trepidation clinging like a fog to your psyche, and you’re ready to basically skitter out of his office as you always do and keep your head down until the semester ends. then you’ll be out of his hair and hopefully this would be nothing more than another minor heartbreak for you to get past.

“where are you going? if you don’t mind staying put for a little bit longer, i’ll go fetch the plan b.” a hand lands on your shoulder as you prepare to leave, and you stop dead in your tracks. you look over, and shoyo looks down at you as if he’s confused.

you hold your breath. you know better than to hope, and yet the flash of emotion that flies across your chest is undeniable. “you… don’t want me to go?”

his face immediately morphs into a deep frown, and his brows furrow. he looks horrified, as if you had picked out the worst words for the situation and spat them at his feet. “no! of course not. who do you think i am? why would i kick you out right after having sex? after harping on for so long about treating you right? gosh, you think so lowly of me. i was only cleaning up! here, there should be some snacks i keep stashed away in the second drawer over there. i’ll be zippity quick with the plan b run, i promise. get something in your tummy in the meantime, and then we can chat.”

chat? the word dangles above you like a loaded bullet. not everything is some kind of fucked up mental game, but it stuns you how he constantly manages to stay a step ahead you in everything.

you want to ask about what. about the future state of your relationship? about how both of your lives are going to undoubtedly be marked in a different way now because of this? about how the rest of the semester is going to go? about how you might never be able to muster the courage to show your face to society again, depending on how the conversation proceeds? there’s a whole slew of questions waiting to be asked, but when he beams at you, his smile more boyish and endearing than anything else, it’s like he simply melts away all of your anxieties.

it’s downright unfair, the sheer effect he has on you. but you don’t want it to stop, ever. you want him to continue confusing you and amazing you, leaving you questioning yourself and all of your worldviews. you don’t understand him, not one bit, and yet it feels like you know too much, used too much of your wiles to force him into showing his hand and leave both of you at some kind of stalemate.

“what comes after that then?” that’s all you manage to blurt out amidst all of your fluctuating emotions. you don’t want him to leave, don’t want the beautiful man to slip away from your fingers after you only just got to keep him, no matter how short or necessary it might be. you’re not thinking straight, but what part of any of this came from logical thinking anyway? good behavior only got you so far, and good behavior isn’t going to keep him.

he grins, a smile that could rival sunshine even through your internalized storm. “that’s easy. you said you were free, yeah? i drop you off at home for a little bit so you can properly get cleaned up and get a fresh change of clothes. then i pick you up again, surprise you with a big bouquet of roses, and i buy you a nice dinner. dessert and drinks included. then i drop you back off home, and if you’re down for it, we do that a few times. then, y’know… i ask you out properly on our third or fourth date.”

your heart flutters in your chest. your heart has always been a caged bird, the last part of yourself you could never fully tame. stuffing it in a constricted box and ignoring it has gotten you only so far, and shoyo presses the key to the cage into your hand and coaxes you into unlocking and opening up the impenetrable door. your eyes widen slightly. it’s too early to get your hopes up again, but at the same time, when he’s stating his interest and desire to make something serious out of this, to actually take you on as a proper girlfriend and not as a one time fling, to go the whole nine yards and make it the romantic experience you’ve always wanted deep deep down, you think it’s only fair that you let yourself have this.

after years and years of repression, you’re getting your first reprieve. the first sign of spring after what felt like an unending winter, the long awaited gulp of water after wallowing in the murky depths, the fabled light at the end of the tunnel, a reminder that everything truly isn’t as hopeless as your twisted mind likes to make it, that you’re just as deserving of goodness and love and rightfulness as much as those around you, no matter how vehemently you once denied it against the very wishes of your heart. you’re done stifling your own desires, and while it won’t be something you fix overnight, you’re sure it’s shoyo that drew out those first steps.

“i don’t like ruining the surprise like this, but… i’m sure you don’t mind. still, do me a favor and act surprised when i do bring you flowers and take you out on a dinner date, okay?” he winks at you, laughing to himself. he looks so happy with himself, truly giddy like a boy waiting to ask his crush out. you don’t know how he can go in between being the cool professor you fell for and the man that charmed you so effortlessly, but you aren’t complaining. you want to acquaint yourself with every side there is to shoyo and to fall deeply in love with each and every part of him you discover.

you smile back softly in return. you play the innocent card, and you tilt your head slightly in a show of fake confusion. “don’t worry. date? what date? aren’t you running out to get me just plan b?”

“atta girl. you always catch on quickly. it’s that smart mind of yours,” he laughs again, louder this time. his voice reminds you of bells ringing in the morning sun. each syllable feels like he’s thawing you out, and it’s something to be venerated with every part of your soul. he approaches you to steal a kiss from your lips, and the touch is so sweet and gone too quickly. you want another, but you know he’ll be back soon and you’ll have as many kisses as you’d like, as many as he’d let you have.

he cups your face with one hand, and his thumb rubs over the apple of your cheek. it’s such a gentle touch, and yet it makes you feel weak in the knees, like your body feels a sense of magnetic attraction to him that makes you want him to hold you and nothing else. he leans down ever so slightly, enough so that he can look at you directly in your eyes again.

you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the way he leaves you breathless when he gazes at you, the intense look always leaving you stunned and glued in your place, the same split second that proved to be the first taste of the forbidden fruit. something bristles and hangs in the air, like electricity, and this time, you recognize it to be the anticipation of getting something you’ve wanted, like an excitement gripping at your throat, and the happiness of your heart beating not just for you but for someone else, for the very first time.

shoyo grins at you, at you alone. his eyes twinkle fondly.

“i love you,” he whispers without any trace of doubt in his voice.

your lips move, “i love you too, shoyo.”

you don’t blink. you won’t blink so long as he’s looking at you.

and you swear to never look away from those beautiful, beautiful eyes.

author's note: i owe @thomae a million thank yous for letting me write her idea! thank you thank you thank you so much for letting me bounce all of my ideas off of you and bothering you incessantly about this fic!! it ended up getting a lot longer than i originally intended (×﹏×) but regardless, i hope everyone enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!! (´ ε ` )♡ please stay safe in the new year, and if you enjoyed my writing, you can show your appreciation by donating to the humanitarian cause in gaza!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hinata shoyo #x reader #fem reader #my writing

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