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thesugarclubs-blog · 2 years ago

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Pose for Me - Wanda Maximoff x F!OC

warnings: au art teacher wanda, strangers to lovers, professor x student, FxF smut involving paint, 18+

word count: 7.6k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1337111732-pose-for-me-leonor

Masterlist

Leonor's wavy brown hair blew into her face as she looked up at the imposing building before her. A college art department shouldn't be at all intimidating, but her impending destination terrified her. She shook off the nerves, flexing her fingers around the strap of her bag before bouncing up the grey stone steps.

Already a graduate student of the arts program, Leo had taken her fair share of lectures and workshops over the past five years. Still, a new class never failed to spark up old anxiety. Whenever she was forced to draw in front of anyone, much less a group or strangers, her body was tight like the canvas her brush loved so much.

There was a murmuring as Leo walked to the classroom. Located at the end of the long hall, illuminated by the spring sun shining through massive glass windows, it was the perfect space for any artist. Edging through the group into the studio space, Leo searched for a spot to set up her equipment, one that had good enough lighting to see but far enough away where no one would bother her.

One of the most interesting and popular professors on campus, Wanda Maximoff, was hosting a workshop on figure painting and from the sounds of her fellow attendees, everyone was eager to begin. Leonor had never taken a class with her, nor even laid eyes on the supposedly gorgeous artist herself. The thought set off a new wave of stress and she took a deep breath, attempting to steady her nerves.

At the back of the room, near the corner of one of the giant windows, a shaft of sunlight illuminated a square on the hardwood floor. It was almost too perfect. Collecting one of the easels and blank canvases that rested against the wall, Leonor headed to her spot and set up the easel at just the right angle. Another trip to collect a small table, stool, and water jar and then she was ready.

Leo tied a paint smeared canvas smock around her neck to protect the pretty dark teal shirt she wore. It fell delicately against the flat of her stomach and didn’t meet the hem of her pants, leaving her midriff exposed. She was glad too - the classroom seemed even hotter as the sun poured through the high windows. The class hummed quietly around her as she got situated. The sounds of clinking water jars, paintbrushes and wooden easels sliding across the floor silenced as a door behind her swung open.

“Hello class,” her voice wafted around, trailing down in whispers between Leo’s shoulder blades leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Leo turned to see her enter the class behind her and swallowed tightly at the sight.

Professor Maximoff was nothing like Leo imagined, and she didn't necessarily mind if her racing heart was any indication. Soft golden waves fell around her mossy green eyes, an almost mischievous smile on her face.

"The door says Professor Maximoff, but please call me Wanda," she continued, a slight accent making every word roll a little bit.

Leo watched slightly open mouthed as she stepped onto a small stage in the center of the room and turned to face them, unbuttoning her blazer.

"I'm excited to see so many familiar faces, but even more interested in the newer ones," she continued, eyes shifting across the room with a soft steely gaze, until finally landing on Leo in her hidden spot.

Leo’s breath hitched as her eyes flitted across her features, her lips upturning slightly as she studied her. Electricity jolted across her nerve endings, her nerves both igniting a foreign feeling along her body and screaming at her to look away from her. But the pull her eyes and soft plump lips had were much stronger than Leonor’s will.

Her green eyes sparkled in the sunlight that poured into the room and Leo could see the hint of small freckles that peppered the soft skin of her face. She would have sworn that the professor could hear the pounding of her heart across the room based on the soft smirk that upturned the corners of her pouty lips.

"The human body is a beautiful thing if you look at it the right way. Every curve, every spot, has a meaning meant to capture the soul inside," Wanda continued, drawing in a slow breath as she moved her eyes from Leo back to scanning the room, "in this classroom today, I want these pieces not only to capture the soul of our beautiful model, but it should be about your own style, your own heart. I want to see you on this canvas as well."

The warmth exuding from Wanda filled the room and Leo was convinced she was not the only one who felt it. The rest of the class stared at the professor as if caught in some sort of spell. With a crinkle of her nose and a clap of her hands Wanda spoke once more.

“I’d like to give thanks to our model.”

A door at the very front of the class opened, one that Leo had assumed was a store room, and a man emerged wrapped in a short robe.

“Class, this is Steve, who has very kindly agreed to sit for us today.”

Steve smiled and nodded as the class mumbled their hellos, a faint blush painting his cheeks as he picked up a chair and placed it in the centre of the room, amidst the forest of easels.

Wanda walked around him, leaning closely she whispered something in his ear, her eyes flickering over his shoulder to where Leo watched. Both smiled, a soft friendly laughter tumbling from his boyish lips as he slipped from the robe and handed it to Wanda. Both Leo as well as half the classroom got an extended view of his toned backside as he settled onto the chair, bringing one foot up to rest on the rung of the stool.

"Nice ass Rogers," the handsome blue eyed college kid positioned beside Leo hollered, sending the class into a fit of hushed laughter.

"Mr. Barnes, if you insist on harassing your boyfriend in my class I'll have to ask you to leave," Wanda turned to him, her eyes a darker shade as she tilted her head to the side in warning.

The blonde guy, Steve, winked over top of the professor's head and Leo couldn't help but snort, earning her a grin from his boyfriend as Wanda continued to give instructions to the class.

"I can't draw a goddamn thing," the blue eyed boy leaned over the aisle to whisper. "Can't resist a good show, though."

Leo's face flared up at his cheekiness, but she gave him a shy smile, opening her mouth to respond before a husky voice over her shoulder interrupted them.

"James, I am fully aware why you are in my class," Wanda remarked with amusement. "But please refrain from spreading the distraction to your classmates."

She stepped around in between them and gazed at Leo, who caught the professor's eyes drift over her frame quickly.

James chuckled, picking up a brush which encouraged Leo to hurry to do the same.

"That's fine, Maximoff," James grinned as he licked his lips, leaning forward over the canvas. "I don't think Stevie is the type for Dimples anyway."

A perfectly arched brow raised in Leo's direction and the girl wished she could just evaporate then and there.

With eyes slightly wide in panic, Leo dipped her head and scrambled around on her small equipment table for the carmine red pencil she preferred for sketching out forms, her paintbrush still in her other hand.

Wanda continued to watch as Leo fixed her gaze on Steve, tilting her head slightly this way and that, before raising a slightly trembling hand and lightly drawing in the rectangles that would eventually become a person.

Wanda nodded her approval. “Mmmm, good start…”

“Leonor, I mean, Leo. I’m Leo,” she stammered, feeling completely flustered.

A soft smile appeared on Wanda's lips as she nodded once, "great start, Leo"

Her name rolled perfectly off the professor's tongue as she rounded the easel and started making her way around the classroom. Leo's hand continued the sketch work as her dark eyes followed Wanda's movements, unable to take her concentration back.

Leo sketched and erased, moving around the boxes into different positions, settling on a mid-waist up portrait of a figure. She traced in the sharp curve of a jaw, rounded out the tip of the nose and finally spaces for the piercing eyes that were now stuck in her head.

Satisfied with her sketches, she picked up a small brush and dipped it into the water, moving to mix a bit of red with yellow and white to make the resemblance of a skin tone. As she worked, the rest of the murmurs and business of the classroom seemed to fade into the background, the only thing playing in her head was the sound of Wanda instructing another student a few feet away.

The sun pressed down on her brow line and neck, tiny droplets of sweat beading against her skin and trickling down beneath the fabric of her shirt. She slowly pulled her brush in long, smooth curving motions, tracing the gentle lines with color.

"It's beautiful," Wanda stood behind her. She had snuck up on Leo and her breath fanned over her hot skin making her nerves tickle. Her hand came up, fingers dipping against the curtain of Leo's hair and pulled it back over her shoulder. "But you seem to have missed the lesson, Leo."

"I-" she opened her mouth, her focus pulling from the way Wanda's fingers felt against her neck, lingering there driving her nuts and looked at the painting before her.

The sultry, smooth image of Wanda Maximoff stared back at her. Leo chewed down on her lip short of breaking the skin and whined under her breath.

Her gaze fell to her hands as she picked at the paint drying up on her fingers, heat pooling at her cheeks in embarrassment.

She was unsure of how to turn back to apologize to her professor, hell she wasn’t even sure how she ended up painting a portrait of her. Her hands just seemed to work on the only thing that hadn’t disappeared from the room in her mind.

The feel of a soft, warm finger curling under her chin broke her away from her thoughts as Wanda lifted her chin up to look at her.

“Where’d you go there, Leonor?” she purred, “I’m quite flattered that I served of some inspiration. I did say it should be your own heart that showed through your work today.” She finished, her eyes sparkling as a tender smile graced her lips.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…well I…oh hell,” Leo stammered.

She bowed her head and bit her lip but somehow found the courage to continue. Raising her head again she looked Wanda straight in the eye.

“The heart wants what it wants,” she said. “Sometimes we have no other choice but to listen.”

Wanda’s smile widened and the corners of her eyes crinkled delightfully as she let out a hum of satisfaction.

“Don’t rush off,” she said with a wink before turning back to the class.

As the professor wandered off, Leo let out a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding and turned back to the canvas as she decided what to do. She'd gone too far into her work to turn back now, if she was going to get scolded after class, she might as well finish what she started.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that was some cheesy pick up line you just gave the ol' prof there," the blue eyed boy quipped from beside her with a smirk, as he smeared different colours onto his canvas.

Leo cleared her throat, and tried to hide the blush that crept up her neck, as she worked to mix up the perfect green to match Wanda's eyes, "I don't know what your talking about," her eyes drifted over to the boys painting and a giggled bubbled from her chest, "what is that?"

"Abstract," James shrugged, splattering a royal blue into the middle of a tan circle.

Leo laughed and clapped a hand over mouth when it was a little louder than she intended. She rolled her eyes as she felt a smear of paint across her cheek from the paintbrush still in her hand. She shrugged and left it, looking up only to get caught in Wanda’s gaze.

Wanda was staring at her from across the room, a slightly calculating grin on her face. Leo shivered as her professor began speaking, continuing the lesson.

She spent the rest of the morning sweating in the hot sun as she finished her painting. She had subconsciously strayed far from the lesson and found herself mixing the perfect shade of green. She filled in the rough sketches, heat burning through her knowing that her professor would see them.

As the green flooded the page, it brought to life the painting of her demanding, lustful eyes and a naughty sense of pride licked at Leo's skin.

"I will see you all back here on Tuesday," Wanda's honey voice echoed through the class and Leo finally looked up as everyone started to pack their things and leave.

She pushed the tip of her paintbrush between her teeth, her eyes flickering over Steve slipping back into his robe and back toward where the professor spoke to another student. She cleaned her brushes in the sink, mindlessly watching as the green swirled around down the drain.

"Interesting," Wanda said from behind her, a hand tucked under her elbow as she brushed her bottom lip in thought with the other. "I'd like to see you privately," Wanda said, "do you have time later today?"

"I have class until nine thirty tonight," Leo left the paintbrushes in the sink and untied the apron from her neck, laying it over the stool as she came closer. "Is that too late?" She asked, nervous for what the privacy may entail.

"No," Wanda finally tore her eyes from the painting and raked them over Leo, "that's perfect." Wanda walked toward the back door, "leave that," she pointed to the painting of herself, her eyes dancing between Leo and the work she had created.

There had always been something about the campus at night that felt like magic to Leo. The quiet halls, echoing laughs and the feeling that maybe she wasn’t supposed to be there.

As she journeyed through the art department now, a little past nine, that feeling was amped up to a hundred. The nervous flutter in her stomach doubling as she neared the classroom her professor was waiting in.

Warm light flooded the otherwise dark hallway from the pane of glass in the door, a singular shadow cast as Wanda moved inside.

“You won’t know unless you go in there,” Leo muttered to herself, thankful for the empty hall as she fixed her hair in the darkened reflection of an empty classroom window.

With a deep breath she forged on, stopping abruptly outside, and knocked before she could change her mind.

It took a moment, longer than Leo’s nerves would have liked, but the door finally opened. Leo swallowed thickly at the sight of Wanda, who had changed into long flowing trousers in soft pink, a white silken tank top, and her golden locks were now secured into a messy topknot with what looked to be a paintbrush. This was more like the art professor Leo had expected to see this morning.

“Leo, thank you for returning. Please, won’t you come in?” Wanda smiled softly and opened the door a little wider giving Leo just enough room to squeeze past.

Leo had no choice but to brush up against Wanda as she sidled into the classroom and the heady scent of her perfume wrapped around Leo like a blanket. She couldn’t help the way her eyes drifted over Wanda’s figure and she groaned internally, or so she hoped, when she realised that the professor wasn’t wearing a bra.

As she tried to catch her breath, Leo turned her back to the professor and walked further into the classroom, closing her eyes for just a moment to centre herself. The electricity running through her nerves was almost too much and she could feel her heartbeat in her throat.

"Okay, before you say anything, I'm sorry again for not drawing the model as instructed, I don't know what happened, I just -" Leo's words were cut off by the playful smirk that danced onto Wanda's lips as she lifted her head, hushing Leo's stammering in the process.

"That's not why I asked you to come back, Leo," Wanda cooed, taking a few steps towards her and helping her slide the backpack off her shoulder, dropping it to the floor, "and do not apologize to me again or we'll have to find something to do about it," she spoke in an almost warning way, the smile dropping from her face.

It felt as though Leo's heart had stopped all together, feeling the heat under her skin as Wanda's fingers brushed her bare arm while taking her bag off. This was not what she had been expecting.

"I just wanted to give you some one on one time, to go over your technique and pass on some pointers," the corners of her lips upturning once more, as she backed away and walked towards Leo's canvas where her painting still sat.

Leo’s heart tripped, watching her professor float away, coming to a stop behind the stool placed at the easel.

“Come, Leo,” Wanda ordered softly, gesturing with two fingers. Leo did everything she could to keep her mouth from dropping open as she walked forwards, stumbling over her backpack. She righted herself, a flush high on her cheeks and carefully sat down on the stool.

She was achingly aware of Wanda behind her, inhaling deeply when her hand came to hover behind her back, just making her shirt graze her skin.

“I was curious about how you chose to mix your colors, you used more color than most would attempt, yet you achieved a wonderful outcome- look here,” Wanda said, leaning forwards, her chest pressing against Leo’s shoulder as she stretched her arm out, gesturing to the painting.

Leo sucked in a breath through her teeth, resisting the urge to lean into her and inhale her pretty floral perfume. It made her head dizzy as Wanda spoke in the background of her thoughts.

“Every stroke has purpose, like you’re telling a story in the curves and slopes.” Her voice came through in bursts as Leo admired the flecks of golden in Wanda’s eyes.

“Are you well?” Wanda’s hand brushed her cheek bringing her back to the present, “you feel warm.”

“I’m okay,” Leo said, fighting the feeling of languid bliss that settled over her from the soft skin of Wanda’s hand. “Was there anything else?” She asked, tearing her gaze away and looking back to the painting. “That you wanted to teach me?” Leo swallowed tightly.

“Well, I suppose that depends on whether you feel like you have more to learn,” Wanda replied softly, “and even then, I can only teach you so much.”

Wanda’s lips twitched, a soft tug of her pink lips that had Leo floundering, her gaze locked on Wanda’s mouth.

“Well I— I don’t really have much experience with life models. It’s why I took your class but—“

“It’s not about experience, Leo. It’s about appreciation. Seeing art in a body and interpreting it with paint is one thing, appreciating the way we’re formed and bringing it to life on the page, well…”

Wanda’s gaze drifted to the canvas, to her own body and Leo felt her cheeks warm. Her skin prickled as Wanda’s fingers slid along her forearm, wrapping delicately at her wrist as she guided Leo from the stool.

“Follow me, I have an exercise you might enjoy.”

Leo tried to shake away the tainted thoughts running through her mind as they made their way towards the center of the room. The small distance seeming like it was a thousand miles away as she felt her pulse grow quicker, certain that her professor could feel the quickened pace against her fingers.

A big white canvas sheet was draped across the center stage. Wanda stopped them just short of stepping onto it, turning towards her as she let go of her hand.

"Sometimes, we need to be in order to fully understand how to best capture the essence of what you're trying to portray through your work," she smiled as her eyes danced along Leo's figure, "if you feel comfortable doing so, Leonor, I would like you to be art for a moment, pose for me."

For just a moment, she thought she might pass out from the fire that ignited throughout her. Surely that part of the statement was just in her imagination. Her breath was caught as she looked up to meet Wanda's sultry green eyes, "W-what?" Leo stammered.

The soft smirk remained on the professor's lips as she tilted her head and raised her eyebrow, "We've spent so much time talking about how this is about the appreciation of the human form, and what better way to teach that to you than to... appreciate what's right in front of me, if that's okay with you."

Leo nodded slowly at her words, and turned to step up onto the canvas but was stopped as Wanda's finger hooked into the belt loop of her light jeans, her thumb grazing the sliver of her belly between the top of her pants and the hem of her shirt.

"Leo," her name rolled out of Wanda's lips so perfectly, "You are covered in far too much fabric to step onto that stage," the corners of her mouth pulled up, "besides, we wouldn't want to get your beautiful outfit all covered in paint, now would we?"

Leo gulped audibly, swallowing hard as she shook her head, lifting slightly shaking hands to her jeans button. She slid it free, pulling down the zipper too, then bit her lip as she nodded to her professor.

Wanda smiled, eyes fixed on Leo’s lower lip before meeting her eyes as she slid her hands into Leo’s jeans, pushing them down from the inside. She bent down fluidly as she did, ending up half squatting half kneeling at Leo’s feet.

Wanda carefully helped her step out of her jeans, sliding her hands back up Leo’s thighs, ghosting over the lace of her panties before smoothing up her sides, helping her to lift her arms and take her shirt off easily. She dropped it to the floor on top of her jeans, holding a hand out for Leo to take and step up onto the stage.

She helped Leo lower to the canvas on the floor, moving slowly Wanda took her time positioning each arm. Running her fingers down her skin as she went before moving to her legs. Wanda’s hand skimmed the underside of her calf, lifting her leg and bending her knee. She was laying on her back with one leg bend, her foot planted on the canvas and the other extended fully.

“Softer than I imagined,” Wanda cooed as she ran her palm across Leo’s taught stomach. Her fingers dancing dangerously against the lacy fabric of her underwear. She moved higher, tucking one of Leo’s hands behind her head, and fixing her hair before standing back.

“Not quite, my favourite art is the expression of self love. Touch is so important,” the soft words dripped from the professors pouty bottom lip as she knelt again, moving Leo’s other hand to tuck into the strap of her bra against her skin.

Wanda tugged a paintbrush from her hair, long golden locks poured down around her sharp face and bounced against her shoulders. Leo fought to control the whine that threatened to escape her lips as she watched her through thick, hazy lashes.

“A little lower,” Wanda pointed a brush to the hand tucked between her strap, lighting reflecting in her green eyes playfully as Leo listened. “Good girl,” she smirked as Leo’s hand dipped into the lace and palmed herself. “Perfect, don’t move, do you understand?” She asked and Leo gave her a soft nod.

Leo closed her eyes as she took in a deep breath, listening to the sounds of Wanda flitting about the room. She heard her come closer humming a soft tune to herself as she placed what sounded like paint bottles down on the floor. Butterflies swarmed in Leo's stomach at the feeling of Wanda's warmth beside her once more.

"Are you feeling alright, Leo?" Wanda asked, as she unscrewed the bottles. Leo nodded as her eyes fluttered open and drifted towards her voice. She saw her smile out of the corner of her eye before she spoke, "I need to hear you say it, Leonor."

“Yes, I’m alright, I’m good,” she breathed, nodding again.

“Darling I’m going to have to ask you to stay still. If you keep nodding your head like that you’re going to spoil the beautiful lines your hair is making on the canvas, and we can’t have that now, can we?” Wanda purred, squeezing some paint into trays.

Leo began to shake her head but then paused and whispered “no, sorry.”

“Perfect, you’re just perfect for me,” Wanda smiled, encouraging and sweet, but there was a inferno burning behind her eyes that caressed Leo’s form with a scalding intensity.

Every breath that Leo took trembled more than the last with the anticipation of what she hoped was to come.

Her mind was foggy and full of every thought and emotion as they bubbled to the surface through each word that dripped from her professor's lips. Of all of the ways Leonor had thought this meeting was going to go, this had definitely not entered her mind. At least not that she was going to let on. The fact that Wanda's piercing green stare had been ingrained in her mind with her rolling cooed voice all day was something she was trying to keep in her own thoughts, but with every movement Wanda made, it made it harder and harder to contain herself.

"Close your eyes for me, Leo," Wanda leaned over her and whispered, fingers brushing delicately at a piece of hair that had fallen against her bare collarbone.

Leo followed the command, fluttering her eyes closed as she drew in another breath.

"Good," Wanda cooed, "Now remember what I said earlier, about every curve having a meaning that needs to be captured.. As we go through this exercise, I want you to feel that, okay? Allow every feeling and emotion to surface..." her voice quieted and Leo felt the trailings of a wet paint brush tracing along the canvas from her ribs to her hips.

“I- Ohhh,” Leo trailed off in a hushed gasp as Wanda guided the brush in a swirl on her calf, the paint cool and creamy, gliding along effortlessly.

“Very important now, Leonor, do you want to continue the lesson?” Wanda asked smoothly, meeting Leo’s heavy gaze when she blinked her eyes open.

“Yes Professor,” she said breathily, exhaling shakily as Wanda continued the trail of her paintbrush up Leo’s thigh all the way to her panties before stopping.

She couldn’t hold back a whine now, slipping through her lips and making Wanda’s eyes darken.

“Good, that’s exactly right Leo, feel everything.”

The cold wet paint dripped down, leaving a damp trail over her skin and pooling beneath her ass between the canvas. She inhaled another shaky breath as Wanda dragged that same line up across her stomach. "List your emotions," Wanda's voice was warm and it settled over her like a blanket.

"Nervous," Leo's bottom lip trembled.

Wanda dipped the brush into more paint but this time she dropped a few drops in her palm and rubbed it between her fingers as she watched Leonor struggle with her words.

"Excited," she breathed out.

Wanda smiled, running her tongue along her teeth and used two of her painted fingers to draw a line slowly down Leo's throat. The feeling of her hands, cold and careful, running down her skin while Wanda hovered so close to her lips caused her body to clench and her hips to lift from the canvas. Wanda's eyes flicked down at the movement and then back to Leo's with a scolding scowl to her perfectly pouted lips.

"Sorry Professor," Leo apologized, but the words came out a teasing whine.

Wanda continued her journey with her fingers, lower across her décolletage — a cool sharpness over the prickly heat of her skin.

Lower still, Wanda travelled. Between the valley of Leo’s breasts, paint dripping dangerously close the the black lace of her bra.

“Do you mind?” Wanda questioned, her green eyes darkened, shadowed and hazy like the deepest forests.

Leo shook her head, voice lost to the want. The want to please Wanda, to feel her paint slicked fingers anywhere she desired.

She arched from the canvas as her professor worked the clasp of her bra open, cool air pebbling her nipples as soon as they were freed.

“You’re beautiful,” Wanda purred, and Leo whined, her lip between her teeth as the other woman soaked up the sight before her.

Wanda brought a hand to Leo's bent leg, lowering it further onto the canvas slowly spreading her legs open as she settled herself on her knees between them.

She smiled down at Leo as she leaned forward wrapping her fingers around her wrists and pushing her hands above her head. Wanda's chest rose and fell against Leo's and she relished in the feel of her clothed breasts brushing against hers, letting her eyes fall closed.

The tip of Wanda's nose brushed against hers, hot breath fanning against her lips as her professor's hands began trailing back down her arms.

"Open your eyes for me Leo," she whispered lips just missing hers as they moved, "I want you to watch me appreciating your body."

Barely missing the paint marking the column of her throat, Wanda ghosted her lips over Leo’s skin, her breath raising goosebumps despite its warmth. Reaching Leo’s right breast, Wanda paused, rolling her eyes up to take in the expression of desire on Leo’s face as her eyelids fluttered with anticipation.

Leo whined once more, which turned into a gasp as Wanda traced around her areola with just the very top of her tongue, gently teasing, with hardly any pressure at all. The circles became smaller, tighter, until Wanda’s tongue was circling Leo’s pebbled nipple but not touching. Leo ached for more and almost bucked up from the canvas once more but managed to contain herself.

Wanda chuckled huskily at the feel of Leo trembling beneath her.

“Well done.” She whispered, taking Leo’s nipple into the warmth of her mouth and sucking gently.

Leo's tongue swiped her bottom lip before she pulled it between her teeth to stifle a moan. Every inch of her body felt like it was on fire, the coolness of the wet paint only making it worse. Wanda's lips continued trailing down her stomach, followed closely by the wet paintbrush, soft green marks appearing on every curve and ridge that her torso held.

"Tell me what you want, Leo," Wanda murmured into her skin as her lips skated across the hem of her lace panties, "right now, in this moment, what do you crave?"

The paint brush moved to dance around her inner thigh, Wanda's hot breath dangerously close to her centre. Leo felt like her brain was malfunctioning and she whined in response, craving the touch of her beautiful art professor.

"You," she finally rasped, "I want you, Professor"

Wanda smiled, a twisted playful smile that drove Leo to insanity. She tucked her fingers into a pot of blue paint. Pressing it against the palms of her hands before dipping into the band of the lacy underwear that Leonor wore.

As she removed them from her hips she left long, soft strands of blue down her thighs and calves. Wanda sat back on her knees, admiring her work before coming back, pressing at Leo’s stomach and dipping her head between her legs.

Blue finger prints maimed her olive skin as Wanda’s tongue swiped between her drenched folds. Leo bucked from the sudden, sweet sensation and Wanda pushed her back down as she worked relentlessly at her clit.

Encouraged by the moans and whimpers that Leo could no longer control, Wanda ran her tongue lower, deeper, laving along Leo’s slick pussy. Leo tightened her thighs against Wanda’s head, she couldn’t help it, but Wanda gently pushed them apart again, leaving two very obvious blue handprints behind, the most intimate of picture frames.

Leo cried out as she felt Wanda’s tongue stiffen and then push into her aching cunt, fucking her slowly but relentlessly, allowing the pressure to build until finally, as if she could read Leo’s mind, she swept her tongue back up to her clit wrapping her lips around it and and sucking hard as Leo came undone in a glorious moan of pleasure.

Wanda continued working her through her orgasm, relishing in the sweet sounds that filled the classroom. Leo's mind was dizzy with pleasure as she came down from her high, but she knew deep within herself that they were not even close to being done.

"Wanda," Leo breathed, confidence rising as she reached down and cupped her professor's cheek, pulling her face up to look at her, "please, please let me show you how fast of a learner I am"

A deep chuckle left Wanda's chest as she sat back slowly and peeled off her white tank top, doing her best not to get any more paint on it then necessary. Leo sat up on her elbows and watched the site before her, drinking in every inch of Wanda's now exposed breasts as she tried to catch her breath.

When Wanda stood to remove her trousers, Leo scrambled onto her knees in front of her lightly grasping her hands, "let me... please" She whispered, looking up at the blonde through heavy lashes. With a soft nod of approval, Leo hooked her fingers into Wanda's pants and the hem of her underwear, pulling them down together.

From her knees Leonor was given the most wonderous view. Her hands raked around and up Wanda's smooth, strong calves and over the swell of her ass. She kissed her mouth over every inch of skin, licking and nibbling at the fleshy inners of her thighs as she reached Wanda's core. Leo's eyes flickered up as Wanda practically dripped down her hand.

"So wet already," Leo purred against her skin.

Wanda raked her paint fingers across her jaw and around her throat lifting Leo's chin to really look at her, "I've been waiting all day," she brushed a thumb over Leo's bottom lip, "walking around soaked just thinking about you."

The confession drove Leo nuts, dipping between her thighs without another word and lapping the sweet taste of Wanda onto her tongue as she lifted her knee and hooked it over her shoulder. She pressed her fingers deeper into her skin, dragging a sweet moan from Wanda's red lips as she supported her weight and ate her out without remorse.

Leonor began circling her clit slowly with the tip of her tongue, almost teasing her seeing just how far she could push her professor. Wanda moaned in protest and dug her fingers into Leonor’s hair, lacing her fingers in between her soft brown locks and pulled her head slightly back green rimmed blown out pupils staring down at as her chest heaved.

Leo looked up at her through her lashes and smiled innocently, “is everything alright, professor?”

Wanda raised a brow and tugged a bit tighter on her hair causing Leo to gasp in pleasure, “don’t be a tease Leonor, don’t make me punish you.”

She felt herself grow wetter at the thought of what more Wanda could do to her. Leo bit her lip and ran a finger through her wet folds, teasing her entrance as she moved her face forward once again, “May I?”

Upon seeing the brisk nod, Leo attached her lips once more to Wanda’s clit, laving it gently with her tongue as she slipped her finger up inside her. The whine that spilled from Wanda’s lips only served to encourage Leo and she quickly added a second finger, moving them in the same rhythm as her tongue.

She knew when she had found the right spot inside when Wanda’s grip tightened on her hair and she began to buck her hips against Leo’s mouth, pushing her closer towards her dripping cunt.

“Yes, there, right there,” Wanda gasped as Leo tried to keep pace with her undulating hips.

Wanda keened above her when Leo slipped a third finger into her and the walls of her pussy began to clench. Leo worked Wanda’s clit as she pumped her fingers in and out, almost having to fight against the grip Wanda had on her head but then the professor stiffened and Leo felt a rush of slick run down her chin as Wanda reached her climax.

Leo worked the professor through her climax, lapping up every ounce of slick she could. She moved her lips to pepper small soft kisses on each hip bone, trailing them up her body as she stood. Making sure to nip at the skin of her breasts and ghost her lips up Wanda's throat, she finally came to a stand nipping at the blonde's ear lobe.

Placing her hands gently on her hips, Leo guided Wanda, turning her towards the canvas, "lay down... please" she added to not sound like she was commanding her, "I don't think our lesson is quite through," Leo teased.

Wanda hummed, and brushed her hands into the brunette's hair, trailing her fingers over her collarbone and down her bare arms, "Well I certainly hope not,"

With Leo's help, Wanda settled down on the canvas and allowed Leonor to position her on her back, both arms stretched above her head, with both knees bent and her back slightly arched off the canvas. The brunette stood over her professor, taking in the sight before her and feeling the fire reignite in her belly as she sank to her knees beside her, digging her finger into the red paint and tracing a line up from Wanda's hips to the crevasse between her breasts.

Leo lifted her finger from her chest, a soft whine in protest slipping from Wanda’s lips. With her free hand, she picked up some more paint and spread it around in her palms. With both hands covered in red paint she swung a leg across Wanda’s body, holding on to her waist as she settled atop her lap. She smiled down at her as she cupped her breast tenderly, dipping her head and nuzzling into the curve of her neck.

Wanda moaned as she began leaving a trail of wet kisses along the side of her neck as she palmed at her breasts. The feel of her professor wiggling and moaning under her only egging her on to kiss down to her collarbone.

Her professor’s hands came down from above her head to cup her face pulling Leonor upwards, the tips of her noses almost touching. Leonor’s breath hitched in her throat at the soft brushing of her thumb on her cheek as her green eyes looked back at her. Just as she was about to ask her if she had done something wrong, Wanda tilted her chin upwards barely touching her lips to hers.

“Kiss me Leonor, please.” She breathed, “Let me taste myself on your tongue.”

With a small sigh Leo leaned forwards and closed the gap between them, her eyes rolling back in her head at the soft feel of Wanda’s lips finally pressing against hers. She opened her mouth slightly, allowing the softest brush of Wanda’s tongue to swipe along her bottom lip but it was Wanda who was the impatient one, pulling Leo’s lip into her mouth and nipping it gently.

The kiss was intoxicating, the taste a heady cocktail of their combined essences with the tiniest hint of paint. Wanda’s hands tangled in her hair and pulled slightly, the tiny pinpricks of pain only adding to the almost overwhelming sensations. Leo smiled into the kiss not even noticing when her thumb smeared a streak of red paint across Wanda’s cheekbone.

They're mouths continued to move against one another, dancing with their tongues and taking in every inch of each other that they could. The red paint from Wanda's breast, transferring and smearing onto Leonor's as the red and blue mixed on their bodies.

A soft red handprint found its way onto the side of Wanda's neck, and another planted firmly beside her head as Leo attempted to hold herself up. Her nerves igniting once more as she felt Wanda's hips buck up into her, grazing her sensitive bud and pulling a teasing moan that was swallowed by her lips.

With one swift movement, Wanda wrapped her arms around Leo and rolled them so she was back on top, rubbing her knee between Leo's legs again, "This is my classroom remember?" She breathed, kissing her once more, and pulling at her bottom lip with her teeth, "I'm in charge"

Leo hummed and ran red paint up Wanda's back, "yes, Professor"

Wanda pressed kisses up and down Leo’s neck, paint smearing against her lips, drawing it down and across her chest, sucking her nipple into her mouth. Her delicate fingers stroked her other breast, massaging it and making moans fall from Leo’s mouth.

“Please, Wanda, more,” she begged, and Wanda grinned around her tit, tweaking her nipple as she bit down lightly. She pressed her thigh up against Leo’s cunt, wet and slick, sliding against her.

Wanda obliged, ducking her hand between them. Her fingers curled painfully deep into Leo’s wet pussy using the weight of her thigh to fuck Leonor senseless.

Her head lulled as the moan ripped from her throat and Wanda sucked at her sensitive nipple. “Sing for me,” she cooed, rubbing her clit with her thumb as her fingers scraped against the roof of her cunt.

“Don’t stop,” Leo begged, and she would continue to do so.

Wanda smiled against Leonor’s chest trailing kisses along her sternum as she pushed her fingers deeper into her center. A string of pleas slipped from Leo’s lips like a song as she continued to work her clit with her thumb. She brought her free hand up, resting it on her throat brushing her lips along the curve of Leo’s jaw.

“You’re so beautiful when you beg, Leonor.” She purred.

Her sounds echoed out into the studio and she could feel Wanda's smile on her skin. The red and blue paint had smeared between them creating a deep purple, the canvas no longer resembling the outline of Leo's body but looking more like an explosion of colour created by passion and heat. It didn't matter who was left in the school, or what tomorrow would bring. What mattered in Leo's mind, the only thing that was left there, was the beautiful blonde who lay on top of her, bringing out more pleasure than she'd ever felt before.

"One more, Leo sweetheart," Wanda cooed, dragging her tongue up the side of Leonor's neck and flicking her ear lobe, "I've got you"

Leo's vision went white as the fire in her belly let go once more, a strike of electricity shooting up her spine as her pleasure overtook every one of her senses. Wanda's name dripped from her lips as a whiney, needy growl that she couldn't control and the vibration of Wanda’s chuckle against her brought her back down from her high.

Leo took a breath, chest heaving slightly as she slowly came down, head spinning. She met Wanda’s green eyes, a smile shining in them as bright as the grin on her face.

“You did so wonderfully my sweet, I’m so impressed, look at this beautiful work you’ve helped to create. Here, let’s take a look,” Wanda said as she stood fluidly, hands out for Leo to take.

She did and they stepped back, gazing at the canvas, smeared with paint. The colors mixed and swirled to create a beautiful whorl of a painting.

Leo looked over at Wanda, kissing her paint smeared shoulder, “it’s beautiful,” she turned her head back to the art.

“You know,” Wanda chuckled, “it would sell for a fortune if they knew how it was made.”

“We can always make more,” Leo teased.

“Is that an invitation Leonor?” Wanda turned snaking her hand into her hair and tugging her close for a kiss that stole the air from Leo’s lungs.

“Perhaps it was a challenge,” Wanda teased when Leo said nothing more, pulling away with the click of her teeth.

Together they hung it dry, and Wanda helped her slip into a pair of paint stained sweats. “I’d like to take you home Leo,” she smiled, helping her tuck her paint stained hair up into a loose ponytail. “We both earned a shower,” she kissed her nose and jaw.

“Is the shower just a shower?” Leo collected her things and followed Wanda to the door.

She shut off the light to the studio and turned to Leo with a playful look in her eye. “A shower is never just a shower,” she hummed, linking their hands together.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x oc #wanda maximoff au #art professor au #wanda maximoff oneshot #wanda maximoff one shot #wanda maximoff imagine #college professor au #marvel au #marvel oneshot #marvel one shot #marvel imagine #marvelous #wanda maximov #wanda x oc #wanda fluff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda smut #wanda maximoff fluff

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mermaidgirl30 · 2 months ago

Text

✨Fall Into the Dark With Me✨

Dark Arts Professor! Joel Miller x Herbology Professor Fem! reader

A/N: I have had this idea for the longest time to mix the two things I love the most together. I hope you love it as much as I do! Hogwarts AU with Joel Miller was the best idea I’ve had in a while. He is an absolute menace in this, and I love him very much 🥰 Thank you to @jennaispunk for beta reading!

Summary: You’ve had your eyes on the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor for a while. Just like he’s had his eyes on you. He’s a sly, sneaky, teasing Slytherin, and you’re a shy, meek Hufflepuff. Will your little flirting game suddenly lead to more once he gets you alone in a room?

Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 7.9k

Tags: Slytherin! Joel, Hufflepuff! reader, relentless teasing, flirting, pining, Joel is a menace, no use y/n, Hogwarts AU, Joel has a dirty mouth, oral (fem! receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, porn with plot, Harry Potter spells and references, no outbreak au, Dark Arts! Joel

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

August blew in as fast as the hot summer breeze slipped out of reach. No more cozy afternoons curled up on your plush couch with your cat. You were back to big green open lands, back to the scents of willow trees and butterbeer, back to Hogwarts. Home for the next school year.

The thing was, you weren’t prepared for what awaited you behind those grand castle walls this semester, not even a little bit. You weren’t prepared for him.

Joel Miller, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, the absolute bane of your existence. Ever since you locked eyes with him that first time in the Great Hall, you couldn’t get those gorgeous brown irises out of your head.

He was a menace; you could just tell. You knew the moment you saw that smug smirk on his face, those tousled grey flecked curls you could lace your fingers through, that patchy salt-and-pepper beard that you imagined might feel so good trailing down the skin of your neck with plush lips teasing across your body.

It was the way he carried himself. Like he owned every single damn room he walked into. Button-up silky shirts that he rolled up to his elbows, exposing those long, corded veins that skated down his tanned forearms. But let’s not forget the emerald snake tattoo that slithered its way around his forearm, accentuating the tanned skin that glowed almost golden under the warm, sunlit skies. Marking his Slytherin blood with ink. And those hands. Big, thick fingers that he’d wrap around his dark brown dragon heartstring wand as he chanted spells inside his classroom. And the way his eyes always seemed to shift toward yours in a crowded room. Those dark brown coffee-colored eyes that seemed to put you under a hypnotic spell.

He was trouble. You knew it, too.

It all started that first day, after that first heated stare at the sorting ceremony. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off you for the entire night. He didn’t hide it either. And then it was the casual grazing of hands in crowded halls, the flirtatious smiles and winks across the dining hall, the small conversations in the outside gardens as he’d slip a green apple from his pocket and slowly take a bite out of it. His eyes never leaving yours as they devoured you. Just like you’d wish he’d do to your skin, your lips, your flustered core.

He knew what he was doing, he knew damn well.

It was just a flirtatious banter between a tall, handsome Slytherin and a shy, gentle Hufflepuff. One a Dark Arts professor, the other a Herbology professor. It was only casual conversations and the occasional grazing of hands. Until it wasn’t.

No. Then he started taunting you, playing petty games. The hard-to-get kind of games.

One of the assistant professors, Priscilla Wilson, would always try to get attention from Professor Miller. Finding any reason to reach over and brush her fingers over his broad shoulders. Flip her long, fiery red hair, bat her long eyelashes, giggle every time he gives in to her flirting and winks over at her, making her nearly fall out of her seat. And every single time he’d entertain her, he’d look your way and fucking smirk at you.

Fucking smirk.

Smug bastard. You just want to slap the stupid smirk off his face, but you also just really want to fucking kiss it off.

You’re so royally fucked.

He loves to tease you. Loves to put you right on the edge where you’ll either lash out and call him on his bluff, or just scoff and brush it off your shoulder like a Cornish Pixie.

He knows damn well it gets you all flustered. Cheeks red, hot breath blowing from your mouth, pursed lips as he smirks your way while other women fawn over him. Drool practically hanging from their gawking mouths. You can practically feel the pride he wears inside that broad chest of his. Brown eyes narrowed while he dares you to do anything about it. He knows you won’t. Knows you’re better than to give in to his little tricks. So you just take it and stomp out of the room. Every single time while his devious chuckle floats through the room, right into your ears.

Well, he’d gotten into your head long ago. You gave in to the temptation of his smoldering brown eyes, the playful smirks that curl across his plush lips, that fucking Southern accent that drives you up the walls when you’re in your bed late at night.

He’s poisoned you. Enchanted you with his cunning Slytherin ways. Handsome, ambitious, prideful, strong, mischievous, smoldering. That’s exactly why you slip your hand under the cool sheets night after night. Fingers curling up inside you, thumb stroking light circles over your needy clit, moaning his name, pretending that it’s him under your sheets taking you over the edge.

His hands, his fingers, his filthy words, his mouth, his cock, his everything giving you orgasm after orgasm. And when you’re finished, sweat coating every inch of your skin, you feel breathless and dirty.

This is what he wants. You all hot and bothered for him. Well, he won because you’re already completely smitten for the Slytherin man.

And one day, he’ll give in to you, too.

The cool air whips past your hair as students shuffle by in the busy hall, rushing so they won’t be late to their classes. Large, cascading open windows filter sunlight through the massive hallway, historical paintings fill the stone walls, towering archways pave every corner, wafts of autumn leaves and pumpkins marinate through the air.

Hogwarts is peaceful, and this place is magical.

As the last of the students disappear down corridors and hurry into classrooms, you’re suddenly alone in the hallway. No noise except for the classroom in front of you. But it’s not just any classroom.

It’s the Dark Arts classroom. Joel’s classroom.

You lean against the stony wall, wait until all the students quiet down. Eventually, Joel shuts them up and then there’s nothing but his deep, Southern drawl filling the room, filtering out just enough in the hall for you to sit and listen.

You do this often. More like every other day. Sitting outside his classroom, listening to his melodic voice teaching about his passion. He’s always had a love for the Dark Arts and now, so do you.

As you lean against the edge of the doorway, back against the stone-covered wall, you seem to get lost in the deep drawl of his voice like an enchanted siren. You could listen to him for hours on end. He’s good at what he does. Smart, cunning, brilliant.

And by brilliant, you mean he’s wiser than some of the ghosts that lurk these castle corridors. Some people even whisper that he can speak Parseltongue. And you don’t doubt it for one second. The man would open the Chamber of Secrets if someone would let him.

But Joel doesn’t need permission from anyone. He does what he wants, when he wants, and who he wants. You just wish that someone was you.

You sigh as you lean against the wall, panting every time he starts lecturing on different subjects about the Dark Arts. Today, he’s teaching about werewolves. And that is a subject you happen to find quite fascinating.

“Miss Flora, can you tell me how—.”

You shift your weight and lose your balance, almost tumbling to the polished floor until you grab ahold of the silver-edged door and stop yourself.

The classroom grows silent and so does Joel’s bravado voice.

Shit. You just got caught red handed.

“Think we’ve got a straggler out in the hall. Think they should come in. Don’t you, students?” You hear the smirk in his voice. Like he knows it’s you. But how would he know…

Oh, right. Because he’s the smartest fucking professor at this school.

When he clears his throat, you know you won’t be able to weasel your way out of this one. So, you take a hesitant step into the entrance of his classroom, and there he is. Big brown eyes narrowed just slightly and a smug smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

God, he’s so good looking.

“Ahh. Professor. Care to join us?” he asks, stepping around his mahogany desk, tapping the tip of his dragon heartstring wand against the top of his thigh.

That’s all it takes to have you weak in the knees. Because the way he’s looking at you tells you everything you need to know. He wants to pull your strings, make you shiver, make you pliable. And now’s the perfect opportunity where he can fluster you up without even fucking touching you.

Shit.

“Take a seat,” he says, nodding to an open seat at the back of the room.

You shake your head and take a step back, careful not to look straight into his brown eyes. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t interrupt. I was just—.”

“Sit. Down.” It’s not a question but a demand.

You purse your lips and take the empty seat while several of the students snicker and whisper to each other.

Great. Now you’re really blushing.

You take a look around the classroom while Joel continues his lesson, flicking his wand to turn to the next slide overhead. The room is dim, curtains drawn so only the floating candles and twinkling lights from hanging lamps fill the room. A dragon’s skeleton is displayed in the back of the room, his mahogany desk covered in neat papers, dark artifacts, and ink quills. Banners of the forbidden forest and creatures of the black lake are spread high across the elegant stone walls. A dusty chandelier with glittering crystals tops off the room, painting golden sparkles on the ceiling.

The room is very him. Dark, divine, mysterious, gorgeous. It even fucking smells like him. Cedar wood, mahogany, green apples, whiskey. The room has his trademark all over it.

You sit back against the wooden chair and watch the way he commands a room. The slight flick of his wand every time he paces back and forth, his rapt attention each time a student answers or asks a question, the way his thick fingers glide through his tousled curls, the way his gaze always seems to come back to you.

Werewolf facts slip from his tongue. Their history, their patterns, their targets. One of your favorite creatures to learn about. Especially when it’s coming from him and his deep, magnetic voice.

It’s like the room turns ten degrees hotter with every minute that passes. Sweat pricks behind the back of your neck, your thighs warm as you cross a leg over your knee, your black skirt of your dress hiking up a little too high, your heart thundering against your chest.

You’re a fucking mess because you’re watching him. Twitching, jittering, and shifting every other minute in your seat. He fucking loves to watch you squirm, too. You can see him smirking from the front of the classroom, and it’s all for you.

“Can anyone tell me what’s the cure for a werewolf bite?” he asks, pacing the room back and forth, eyeing each student with a patient glance.

His footsteps echo around the cascading room, his hands behind his back, a slight tick in his jaw when no one answers.

“There’s a cure?” one of the students questions, heads whipping around to face the baffled third year with confusion written all over her innocent face.

“Yes,” Joel says with a clipped tone. “C’mon. Think. What two things can cure a werewolf bite?”

Nothing. Not even a peep comes from the copious amount of students in the room. Just eyes to the ground and awkward shifting in their seats. None of them know.

“Collin?” Joel asks, standing in front of the blonde boy’s chair. His scared blue eyes give away that he’s intimidated and doesn’t know the answer.

“Umm. I—ugh. Gillyweed?” he guesses, lifting his hopeful eyes when he thinks he may be right.

“No,” Joel snaps. “Gillyweed allows you to breathe underwater. It does not cure a werewolf bite. Maybe read the text next time before class and then you’d know.” Joel narrows his eyes at Collin, and the scared third year looks down in shame.

God. He really intimidates everyone. Doesn’t he?

“Think. What. Cures. The. Bite.” He accentuates every syllable, draws it out with a deep growl, narrows his eyes into thin slits when nobody can answer. He looks like he’s about to snap with how tight he’s holding his wand. But before he does, you decide to answer.

“Silver and dittany,” you respond, and then the students turn with wide eyes. Right in your direction. You slide down in your chair just a little to alleviate the embarrassment of all eyes on you.

Joel turns to you and smirks, his eyes turning darker with every second that ticks by. It’s like he’s staring right through your soul, sucking it out until every single bit belongs to him.

“Clever girl,” he whispers. Just loud enough for you to hear because it was meant directly for you, not the class. His eyes flash onyx as he stares your way, heat rising in your cheeks. But in the next second, his eyes are elsewhere.

“Could learn a thing or two if you paid attention to your professor in Herbology,” he growls, the closed windows rumbling as his deep voice booms through the large corridor. It’s enough to make goosebumps prickle down the length of your arms.

The students shake and quiver in their seats, eyes casted down to the dark material of the floor. And in the next five minutes, Joel’s dismissing them.

“Remember, read chapters ten through twelve before the end of the week. And for the love of Salazar, pay attention in your classes. All of them. Class dismissed,” he clips, teeth bared and jaw clenched.

The students hurry and filter out of the classroom, black robes flying as they scurry off out of the wrath of Professor Miller.

As you get up to make your way out to the hall, he stops you. “Not you.” His deep voice sends shivers down your spine.

You freeze, just a few feet from the doorway. And then he takes his wand and shuts the heavy doors with a bang that makes you jump from the sound.

Alone. You’re alone with him. In his classroom, on his free hour. And suddenly, the room is stifling.

“So. You like to listen in on my lessons now, don’t ya?” he asks, crossing his strong arms over his broad chest, large biceps clinging to the white button-up shirt, his green striped tie loose around his neck.

“I—uhh.” You’re all of a sudden completely speechless as he stands in front of you, his woodsy scent making you dizzy with need.

“You don’t gotta play coy, sweetheart. Know you sit out there listenin’ all the time,” he smiles, flashing his white teeth and making you blush at the name sweetheart.

His Southern drawl always made you a little worked up.

“Why didn’t you say anything then if you knew?” you ask, eyebrows threaded together, lips pursed tight.

“Figured I’d jus’ let ya indulge. If you know what I mean,” he smirks, giving you a seductive wink that sends heat to your cheeks.

He’s always so fucking cunning. Quick comebacks that could send you down to your knees. Maybe that’s what he wants.

“You’re unbelievable. You know that?” you spit, hands on your hips, waiting for him to say something smart back.

“Am I?” He quirks a brow, steps closer where you can practically taste his strong cologne. And that’s it. You’re so done for.

“Yes.” You stand your ground firm. Eyes icy as you look at his fiery ones.

Jesus. The man could burn this entire castle down with one stare.

“How so?” he asks curiously, eyeing you with heightened interest.

“Why don’t you ask Priscilla? You know, since she’s always hanging around you.” You roll your eyes, shake your head, and throw your hair behind your shoulders with a glare. Like that’ll show him you mean business.

“Don’t do that,” he says quietly, brown eyes trained on you.

“Don’t do what?” you ask, anger boiling on the back of your tongue.

“Stop bein’ fuckin’ jealous,” he growls, his large hands hovering over yours, heat simmering between the small space between the two of you. Just like a sweltering sauna. You can practically feel the flames licking at your skin. All over you.

“Then stop flirting with her right in front of me,” you glower, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. He just laughs at you like you just said the funniest joke in the world. He can’t be fucking serious.

“You know I only do it to get a rise out of you,” he smiles, painting your cheeks crimson at how smitten you feel when you see that deep dimple appear in the corner of his left cheek when he’s smiling. But nevertheless, he’s not getting off that easy. Not today, at least.

“Oh, don’t I fucking know,” you scoff, your heel digging into the hard surface of the floor. Showing just how much he’s getting under your skin.

“You know, you’re pretty adorable when you’re all flustered. You know that?” He brushes the back of his palm against your jawline, barely touching you but setting you completely on fire.

You bat his hand away, fix him with a tight-lipped scowl. “Flustered? That’s why you torture me day after day?”

He nods his head and smirks, letting his big ego fly around the room like a barn owl. “Mhm. Like you all worked up. Probably makes you all hot and bothered, doesn't it? Bet you touch yourself at night jus’ thinkin’ of me.” And there’s that damn smirk. The one that’s got your stomach all tied in knots.

“You’re such an asshole,” you scoff as you push at his broad chest, but he barely moves an inch. He’s like a thick brick wall that you just can’t seem to penetrate. No matter what you do.

“You fuckin’ love it, though,” he challenges, brown eyes turning into dreamy bedroom eyes.

No, you’re not doing this. You’re not playing his game.

“No. And I’m leaving.” You turn with the flip of your hair, stomping your way up the row of empty desks. And when your hand wraps around the gold-threaded doorknob, you feel the faint buzz of power permeate around your body.

“The hell you are,” he growls. “Accio!”

It feels like an invisible string wraps around your entire body, and suddenly you’re being pulled back by a sharp tug. Your body whisks through the air, and you have no power to stop the force.

He snakes his arms around your waist, tugging you against his broad chest, catching you before you go flying into his lavish desk. You gasp, the air knocked from your lungs as his warm breath fans over your lips. Green apples and whiskey serenade your senses, and suddenly you’re a ragdoll in his arms. There at his beck and call, whatever he needs. You’re done for.

“That’s cheating,” you whisper, voice barely audibly as your throat closes up the closer he brings you against his large body.

“It ain’t cheatin’. It’s called magic, sweetheart,” he winks, making an exaggerated groan pull from your lips.

He’s always so smooth. Like a cold glass of neat whiskey that runs straight to your stomach, ending in your core.

“What are you doing, Joel?” you sigh, giving up the fight. You stop shoving against him and relax, your body still against his.

“Givin’ in,” he smiles, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist, one hand hovering against your lower back. Right at the end of the zipper of your dress.

“Like you gave into Priscilla?” you spit out, narrowed eyes trained right on him. You’d love to give him a taste of his own medicine one of these days. Drive him crazy like he drives you mad every single fucking day.

“Now hold on there,” he says with a pause, sliding one of his hands up to your wrist, holding it tight against his chest. “I never even laid a finger on Priscilla.”

Your jaw drops, and you wag a finger at him. “You sure about that? Because she has a pretty loud mouth.”

“She ain’t the one I want, sweetheart. And you should know that.” He fixes you with a deep stare. His eyes look like glowing, syrupy orbs. You’re pretty sure you want to get lost in them. Let them drag you down into their dark depths where you’ll never see daylight again.

“Oh? And who is it that you want?” you whisper, voice suddenly shaky and nervous.

When he nods down toward you, you nearly crumble at his feet. “The only woman I wanna be touchin’ is the pretty Hufflepuff that’s all flustered in my arms.” His smile makes you lose your balance, but he just holds you tighter. Fingers curling against the soft cotton of your dress, burning your skin even from the layers that cover you.

He might as well cast Incendio on you. You’re already burning.

“You’re such a tease,” you giggle, pushing him playfully in the chest, letting the soft fabric of his shirt cling to your skin.

“That I am,” he chuckles, making you nearly hyperventilate at his cocky demeanor. He knows he’s slick; you’ll give him that.

“I need to get to class,” you sigh, trying to break free of his grip, but he only holds you tighter. No escaping him.

“No, you don’t. You don’t have class for another hour. And neither do I.”

The sudden realization hits you like an oncoming train. He’s got you trapped in his web, ready to sink his teeth in you at any second.

The dim lights seem to darken even more as the thick tension blows through the classroom. Silence takes over, and you’re left with nothing but your racing heartbeat and his shallow breath. Warmth pools through your core as you watch those smoldering brown eyes light your skin on fire.

You’re wrecked.

“Well, I just—.” You try to take a step back, but then his hands run down your arms slowly, goosebumps taking hold in every single place he leaves his mark.

“Why don’t you jus’ relax here for a bit? Can think of somethin’ to unwind that pretty mind of yours.”

He starts slowly circling you. Calloused fingers running over your back. Warm breath blowing down the base of your neck. Lips brushing against the shell of your ear, causing you to gasp at the contact.

“I don’t think so, Joel. I—.” You stop talking the moment he moves your hair across your right shoulder. His lips drag down the side of your neck, barely grazing but enough to make warmth flood through your lace.

“C’mon now. Know you want this. Know you want my touch.” He takes a hand and moves it around the front of your waist. “My fingers.” He brushes his hand lightly down your leg, dangerously close to your inner thigh. “My lips.” He molds his mouth around your collarbone and sucks, eliciting a moan from your lips.

“Oh. That’s… oh.” He nips at your shoulder, pulling your sleeve down just enough to make contact with your skin. And fuck, it feels good.

You want to run, say no, give him hell for the hell he’s given you. But you’re a moth drawn to the flame. And you have no will to say no to him.

“Give in, sweetheart. Give in to the dark side. Know you want to,” he whispers in the shell of your ear, leaving you breathless as the sweet incantations put a spell on you.

“I uhh—yes…” you lull as he turns you around and pushes you back into the front of his desk. His large stature towering over you. Hands on either side of the desk, caging you into him.

“Say it. Say you want this. That you want me.” His mouth hovers over yours, blows hot air where you can basically taste the whiskey that encompasses his tongue. And you feel it then. That thick bulge against your thigh. Letting you know just how hard he is for you. And fuck, you think you might pass out from how stifling the room is now.

“I—.” He slowly cups the back of your thighs and lifts you up, right on the edge of his mahogany desk, legs dangling from the position. He takes his wand and starts spreading your legs until he’s standing between them, one hand skimming over the top of your shaking thigh. Then he throws his wand to the side of the desk, uses his hands to undress you. Starting with your skirt. He lifts it slowly over your hips, leaving you with your white lace panties exposed to the cool air, completely soaked through.

He rakes a hand heavily down his mouth, eyes wide as he stares at the mess you’ve made. “Look at you. Fuckin’ soakin’ for me, sweetheart. This all for me?” he asks, his thumb brushing over your wet center, pressing against your slick-clothed folds.

“Yes,” you whine as he slowly unzips the back, pushing the dress down until it’s a messy pile on the floor. He unclasps the matching lace bra, throwing that to the side, leaving your perky breasts on full display for him to indulge in.

He licks his bottom lip seductively slow, practically drooling as he takes in the sight of you all sprawled out and bare for him. He’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life than the vision of you open and ready for him.

His mouth drags down your throat, down your chest until his lips suctions to your breasts, tongue flicking the pebbled nipples, eliciting more slick in your lace panties.

“Say you want this, sweetheart. Say you want me,” he breathes, slowly dropping to his knees like he’s worshiping a goddess, hands roaming up your inner thighs, teasing you relentlessly. He slips under your lace, one finger brushing over your clit. You’re a writhing mess beneath him at this point.

“Oh, fuck. Yes. Want you. Need you, Professor Miller,” you mewl, bucking your hips up to get the friction you so desperately need.

“Good girl,” he praises, slowly dragging your ruined lace to the floor, leaving you open and bare and dripping for him.

“Fuck,” he curses, raking a hand down his scruff, eyes lust-blown as he takes you in nice and slow. He’s mesmerized by the beauty before him, and he’s memorizing every single detail about your glistening body. He thinks you’re a fucking angel. All pliant and ready for him. He’ll have you screaming his name in no time.

From the carnal, possessive way he’s looking at you, you’re pretty sure he’ll save this memory for another time. Bottle it up so he can go back and watch it over and over again, until he sees nothing but you with every waking breath he breathes.

He materializes in front of you, casting dark shadows all over the silhouette of the walls, tongue dragging up your inner thigh, his thumb teasing the outer edge of your drenched folds.

“Fuck, Joel,” you mewl, bucking your hips up in the hopes of his lips landing on your mound.

“Patience, baby. And call me Professor Miller. Love how it sounds falling off your pretty lips,” he chuckles, tongue barely scraping over your needy clit.

You suck in a breath and grab the crown of his head, locking your fingers in his soft hair. Tousled sandy locks and glittering greys catching the light of the twinkling lamps floating in the room. He looks like a masterpiece.

“Please, Professor Miller. Need you,” you beg, his hot breath fanning across your aching core. You’re burning for him.

“Yeah ya do. Dirty little Hufflepuff,” he chuckles, blowing a puff of warmth over your mound. Slick runs down your inner thighs, and his eyes blow into deep pools of black lust. “Think you might have a little Slytherin in you after all,” he smirks, gliding his thumb through your slick folds and eliciting a high-pitched whine from your mouth.

“Slyther—ohhh,” you groan as he licks a thick stripe up the entirety of your core.

Suddenly, the room is spinning, and you can’t find your balance. You’ll just fall off the edge as long as Joel catches you. You think he will.

“That’s right. Take it. Let the temptation consume you. Let me slither in and make you come undone,” he drawls out in a husky breath, making you moan at the sound of his deep timbre.

It’s like you’re cast under a deep spell. Pulling you under, consuming you in copious amounts of pleasure, starlight flashing as your eyes roll back with every flick of his tongue to your puffy clit.

He tugs you to the very edge of the smooth desk and wraps his arms tightly around your thighs, stretching you open as he ravishes and drowns in the slick of your core. His experienced tongue lapping at your folds. His lips suction around your mound as he pulls you into his warm mouth, sucking and groaning with every taste of you.

You drag your nails over the wooden desk, throwing your head back with every lick, every taste he gives you. And God, you feel like you’re flying. His mouth, his tongue, his dirty words, his whole entire aura make you want to lose control. He’s everything all at once, and you don’t know how you’ll ever get enough of him now.

He coaxes you on, filling your ears with delicious praises. “Atta fuckin’ girl. Yeah, you like that. Don’t you, filthy Hufflepuff?”

“Yeah…” you choke out, voice raspy as you delve into the feeling of his smooth tongue igniting a wildfire in your core.

“Don’t be shy then, sweetheart. Let me hear you,” he demands as he lets go of your puffy clit with a pop, his tongue generously lapping at your drenched folds.

“The door—we can’t…” you whine.

He lifts off his knees, hovers his body against yours, and starts to work you as he slides his middle and ring finger inside your dripping hole.

Oh, fuck.

“Door’s locked tight, sweetheart,” he smirks, lust-blown eyes locked on you, his lips brushing over yours.

“They’ll—ohh. They’ll hear us.” His free hand slides up your waist as his body leans against the desk, his mouth roaming up the crook of your neck.

“Nah, they won’t. Not when I placed a silencing charm on the room,” he chuckles as his tongue traces the slope of your ear, sending more slick down your thighs.

Of course he fucking did. You didn’t even hear him cast one. He’s just… that good.

“C’mon, messy Hufflepuff. Want you to come for me,” he drawls, his fingers tantalizing and penetrating as he works them nice and slow inside you, knuckles deep in your slick.

Fuck.

Squelching noises fill the room each time he works you over, searching for that one spot that’ll send you over the edge. But God, he found it. And now, he won’t fucking stop hitting that spongy wall that makes your legs shake and voice cry out in orgasmic pleasure.

“Joel, I’m…”

“Professor,” he whispers in your ear, his enchanting voice floating through your mind, pulling you over the edge.

“Professor—” you hum, your fingers pushing through the sandy hair at the base of his neck, mouth dropped as pleasure starts to rock through you uncontrollably.

“Yes?” he asks with a bite to his deep voice.

“I—I’m…”

His plush lips caress the shell of your ear, his teeth nipping at the delicate skin. “Come for me, pretty girl. Say my name. Tell me who makes you feel good,” he whispers deliciously slow, his melodic voice making you fall apart. “Let go. C’mon, baby. Do it for me.”

One more curl of his fingers and you’re coming undone. You clench around his thick fingers and let yourself spill for him, covering his knuckles in your slick while you moan his name. “Professor Miller!” It falls off your tongue and rings around the room, echoing back as you lose all control.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises as he takes you over the edge, slowly working his fingers up and down, letting you ride out your orgasm as tidal waves collide in your body.

When the room stops spinning and your vision isn’t blurry anymore, you sit back and stare at him in awe. He’s got the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, obviously proud he made you just cum on his fingers. He’s waited so long to do it. All while teasing and tormenting you so he could make it that much better for you.

You should hate him, but you don’t. Oh no. You think you’re addicted to him now.

“That feel good?” he asks. His palm sliding over your thigh, thumb massaging slow circles into the crease of your skin. It feels… good — calming.

He feels good.

“Yeah. That was—nice,” you finish, eyes peeking up at him through your eyelashes. His eyes are nearly dazzling under the dim lights. Almost like there’s stars soaring through those gold-flecked irises.

You stare at each other for a minute, sitting in comfortable silence. And in the next moment, without thinking, you’re grabbing his emerald tie and pulling it toward you. Heat rises in the air as your fingertips scratch down his patchy scruff, indulging in his woodsy cologne. Your lips graze just slightly against his, and flames erupt in his eyes.

“Haven’t had enough?” he teases as he pulls your hair softly, lifting your face up to his. His lips brush softly against yours, and it’s like everything seems right in the world.

Your breath comes out hot and uneven as you stir beneath him, one arm snaking around the back of his neck. You haven’t tasted him yet, and you’ll be damned if you don’t take this chance.

You lift your chin just a smidge higher until you’re practically magnetized to him. “No, Professor Miller. Haven’t had enough yet,” you mewl out, your head dizzy and disoriented.

He cups the back of your head and smiles, that devilish smirk curling against his mouth. “Then let me show you jus’ how good a Slytherin can make a Hufflepuff feel.”

He pulls your lips to his and kisses you fiercely, passion consuming you whole. You kiss him back just as desperate, needing to be as close to him as possible. When you open your mouth and invite him in, whiskey and green apples envelop your tastebuds. And you swear you’ve never tasted a better combination.

As he pushes you down against his desk, papers fly off in scatters, glass crashes to the ground. Never mind that, he doesn’t even seem the least bit bothered. Right now, all he’s focused on is you.

He crawls over you, crowding you with his broad body, his hands roaming up and down your bare skin as if he wants to crawl inside himself, claim you as his own.

You frantically pull at his buttons while he helps you unfasten them, quickly throwing his shirt off and tossing it to the side. Dark hair splatters his tanned chest, his happy trail disappearing beneath his black slacks. And God, he’s as hard as a rock underneath. You can see the massive outline of him.

He rocks his hips against yours, tongues tangling together as you drink each other down. You could get drunk on the sweet taste of him. You’re pretty sure he’s better than any butter beer you’ve ever tasted.

Your body hums with desire, tension coiling in your stomach. You want him, need him like you need air to breathe. You want to feel him inside you. Grinding and thrusting until you combust around him. Until you feel his seed drip down your thighs. You’ve never wanted it this bad with anyone. But with Joel? You’ve never wanted anything more in your life.

“Professor Miller, please,” you beg as you palm him through his slacks, an audible groan getting lost in between kisses.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Wanna hear it,” he slurs as he nips at your lower lip.

You find his top button and snap it open, finding his zipper next as you drag it down slowly. “Want you inside me, Professor,” you whisper provocatively, leaving your shyness behind just for the moment.

He winces as you reach in and start to work his massive cock up and down, spreading precum down his shaft. A quiet groan slips out of his mouth, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your life. “Fuck me. This little filthy Hufflepuff wants it bad, don’t she?” he grins, eyes dancing like moonlit stars.

He’s so fucking pretty.

“Mmm. Yes. Please. I need it. Need you,” you beg.

He shoves your hand out of the way and pins it above your head, shoving his slacks and boxers down until he’s completely naked above you.

You gawk at how massive he is. Thick, beautiful, long. Precum beads his swollen red tip. Large veins spiral like vines on the underside of his cock. He’s so big; you don’t know how he’ll fit. But you know he’ll make it fit. Stretch you until you can’t take anymore.

He’s going to absolutely ruin you, and you’ll let him. You want him to destroy you.

He lines the angry tip up with your sex, stroking it up and down along your folds, gathering your slick on his cock as you purr at the feeling. If this feels good then being inside you might end you.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Gonna take real good care of this pretty Hufflepuff pussy,” he smirks darkly, eyes as black as coal.

He teases you slowly, dragging the tip through your folds. And when you’re about to beg for more, he thrusts deep inside with a low growl.

Your mouth drops open in awe as he stretches you to the max, working his thick length inside you over and over again until you start seeing stars in your vision. He’s so fucking big it feels like he’s splitting you in two; his pleasure driving yours to the finish line.

“Professor,” you moan as he thrusts deeper, kissing the back of your cervix. His large hands push your legs back against the wood of the desk, in a twisted pretzel shape. And when he snaps his hips again, you let out a guttural moan that doesn’t even sound like your lilty voice.

“That’s it. Let me hear you. Look so pretty with my cock deep inside you,” he chuckles as he drills into you as deep as he can, digging his way to your release.

“I—I…” Your voice fades off into a garbled mess as he fucks you relentlessly, speeding up his thrusts until the desk is shaking beneath you.

The squelching noises of his cock sliding in and out of your slick and the deep, gruff groans coming out of his mouth are almost barbaric. He’s completely wrecked just as you are. Two souls enchanted to run away in the darkness. Get lost in the indescribable pleasure of each other.

You feel yourself nearing another climax as he licks his tongue inside your mouth, meeting yours in a dance you can’t stop. He swallows your moans with each snap of his hips, his fingers toying with your overstimulated clit until you’re gasping for breath underneath him.

He disconnects from your lips and stares at you with pitch black eyes, ready to consume all of you. “That’s it. That’s a good fuckin’ girl. Come on my cock. Let me feel you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. And the sound of that deep, melodic tone makes you want to spill right then.

“I—Professor Miller. I’m gonna…”

He drags his tongue along the edge of your ear and leans in close, his voice like silk. “C’mon, beautiful. Let go. Trust me. Feel me. Squeeze me. Show me how much I make you feel good. My pretty little Hufflepuff. My girl…”

That right there sends you over. One more press of his thumb to your clit and you’re falling off the edge. It’s like a choir of angels surrounds the dark ceiling, your ears ringing as you cry his name at the top of your lungs. You can’t think, can’t speak. You can only writhe beneath him as you come back down to earth while he calls you a good girl over and over again. He could say it a hundred times, and you’d never tire of it.

“Fuck. That’s my good girl,” he praises, fucking into you harder. His breath ragged and untame. His curls stick to his sweat-coated forehead, his black eyes widen, and you feel him start to fall apart.

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ last much longer, sweetheart. Where do you want me?” he asks breathlessly.

“Inside me, Professor Miller,” you beg. At the sound of his name, he throws his head back and groans loudly as he spills his warm seed inside you. Painting your walls white with the Slytherin essence of him. Claiming you as his own.

He falls on his back against the side of the desk and pulls you tight against his chest. And then the two of you just breathe each other’s air until one of you is strong enough to push up from the dark mahogany desk. You’re the first one to move.

You quickly throw on your dress and cast a charm to freshen up. You don’t need your students knowing what you and the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor have been up to.

Just as you start to smooth your hair out, you feel Joel brushing up against your back. His woodsy scent slithering its way down your spine, encapsulating your entire being as you start to fall into a deep trance again. You lean back and let him wrap his strong arms around your waist, his tempting lips kissing their way down the column of your neck.

“What are you doin’ later tonight?” he whispers smoothly, lingering his lips over your smooth skin. You feel his smoldering brown eyes piercing right through you, starting a fire deep in your core.

If he doesn’t stop, you’ll end up right back where you were just seconds ago. On your back with Joel fucking Miller hovering over your body. Pulling you apart thread by thread. And you’d let him. God, you’d burn down this entire room and let him fuck you through the flames that licked at your skin. You’d burn for him.

“Was going to lesson plan and maybe read a book,” you gulp as he spins you around, your speech suddenly slurring as he tempts you with dark eyes. Eyes that’ll swallow you whole.

“Well, how ‘bout you lesson plan from my bed?” He quirks up a thick brow and plants a smug grin on his plush lips. Lips that taste like firewhisky.

“I don’t think I could get anything done there,” you laugh, a crimson blush staining your cheeks.

“Not lesson plannin’, no. Maybe we could open the Chamber of Secrets. Get you moanin’ and speakin’ in tongues before the night is through,” he smirks devilishly, licking his bottom lip enticingly slow.

God, he’s such a tease.

“You’re a bad, wicked man, Professor Miller.” You shake your head and fold your arms over your chest, taking a step back until he wraps a big hand around your wrist and pulls you back into his broad chest.

“Don’t you forget it, baby,” he chuckles, fanning his hot breath over your lips. Drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

“You’re going to make me late for my next class,” you sigh, letting him gather you in his arms as his warmth consumes you.

“Then be late…” he whispers, brushing his lips over yours. Damn him and his plush, tempting lips. He tastes better than any sweet treat you’ve had in Hogsmeade.

“You’re a bad influence on me,” you tsk, throwing your arms around his neck. Screw it. You’re already hooked on him. Might as well just give in to his lustful temptations.

“Tryin’ to be,” he chuckles as he brushes a lock of hair behind the shell of your ear, lingering the back of his hand against your jawline. The tension suddenly thick around the dimly lit room once again. But really, it never left in the first place.

You graze your lips against his and give him a lasting kiss, fingers tangled in the messy curls you so desperately love to lace your fingers through. It feels like velvet as the silvery strands comb through your fingers.

You disconnect from his mouth and smile sweetly up at him, pushing off his strong chest. “Okay, handsome. I gotta go.”

“See you tonight, pretty Hufflepuff.” He lingers his calloused fingers around your wrist and holds you there, just so he can memorize what you look like under the moonlit lamps of his classroom. He thinks you’re absolutely stunning.

“Pretty, huh?” You give him a shy smile and feel your cheeks growing bright red.

He nods, brown eyes alight with wonder. “Baby, you’re the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Oh.

“You’re not so bad looking yourself, handsome,” you smile as he brings your hand up to his lips, placing a swift kiss to the top of your knuckles. And there you go blushing again like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Careful now. Start talkin’ like that, and I’ll jus’ have to make you mine,” he warns with a smirk, the crow’s feet making his eyes sparkle like onyx crystals as starlight dances across his pretty eyes.

“So make me yours…” you whisper, hand dropping to your side.

He chuckles and shakes his head, back of his hand skimming down your blush-coated cheek. “You’re already mine, beautiful girl.”

“Yours…” you repeat in awe.

“Mmm. Mine.” He lets you backup a couple steps, reluctant to let you go just yet. “See ya tonight, baby.”

As you pace back to the door and hover your hand over the golden handle, you turn back to him and smile. “Try not to think about me too much until then, Professor Miller.”

He rakes a hand slowly through his tousled curls, adjusting his loose tie around his neck. “Oh, babygirl. That’s the only thing that’s gonna be on my mind till I see you.”

His brown flecked eyes hold yours for just a few seconds and then you turn and walk out of the room, leaving behind the troublemaker that’s got your heart racing a million miles an hour.

You’re thoroughly, completely enraptured with Professor Miller. And you fear you won’t be able to get enough of him.

As you walk down the now stirring hallway, dodging chatty students, you think of those captivating dark eyes. Those smoldering, beautiful eyes. Just a few more hours until you’re in his arms again, until he’s making you come undone all over again.

You’d let him unravel you. Make you his with every touch, every kiss, every breath. You never expected to fall for a Slytherin but here you were. Tripping and stumbling to get one more taste of him.

You’d never get enough. This Hufflepuff belonged to a Slytherin now. Professor Miller. The bad boy who got the good girl.

He was your Amortentia, and you were his.

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