#cw: professor / student dynamic

[a-million-usernames]

All Too Well (Intro)

Last year, @burningdownthedark hit both @leatherboundbirate and I with an idea for an au of our au, featuring All Too Well and I thought you know, I'm going to write about this. AND NO SHOCKER HERE but I'm still in the process of doing so. But this is a little smidge of a teaser. An intro to the piece, if you will.

Warnings: Daddy Kink, Power Dynamics, Professor/Student Dynamic, Gendered Pet Name(s) Word Count: 333 This is also on AO3, if you're interested in reading there.

“I don’t want to go back home—back to reality.”

The large, warm hand that rests on your bare thigh gives a reassuring squeeze as Jack looks over at you from his spot behind the wheel. The air is still tinged with a hint of summery warmth—warm enough to keep the windows down as he drives—in spite of the leaves that have already begun to change in the early Autumn days, coloring the hills in small pops of reds and yellows. Jack’s hair, now streaked with gray, tousles in the breeze as his thumb taps lightly against the wheel.

“I know, Princess.” Slowly, his foot presses down onto the brake, the car rolling to a gradual stop at the intersection. “C’mere,” he says before pouting his lips out to signal his need for more of your affection.

The scent of his cologne is much stronger now that you’re leaning across the console, a hand grazing the soft fabric of the scarf—your scarf—that hangs loosely from his neck. The more that you lean into him, the further his hand inadvertently slides up your thigh until it is disappearing beneath the flowy material of your dress, fingers grazing along your rapidly dampening underwear. A sound of satisfaction rumbles in the depths of Jack’s chest when your lips finally close the distance to meet his. The kiss is slow and unhurried complete with tongues that glide along one another and teeth that nip at plush bottom lips.

“Did you have a nice weekend,” he asks when the kiss comes to an end.

“Yes, Daddy.”

Jack is on the verge of leaning in for another kiss when a horn blares loudly from behind. His eyes shift to look at the light which has now switched to green and moves his foot off the brake to step on the gas. The hand at your thigh gives another squeeze before slipping away entirely as the sound of your mischievous giggles and the slide of his zipper fill the car’s interior.

[osamucide]

⊹ I AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A NASTY DOG!

. . . BSD MEN AS OVERUSED PORN PLOTS!

wc: 5.3k

cw: MINORS DNI���explicit sexual content, gn!+afab!reader, a lot of anonymous sex, dirty talk, BIG DICK MEN, probably a good amount of ooc, some questionable dynamics/dubcon that can be read through the lens of roleplay and/or prior consent. character-specific warnings—chuuya: public sex, penetration; dazai: penetration, riding, creampie; kunikida: professor/student, oral (m!receiving); fukuzawa: secretary/boss, office sex, oral (m!receiving), facefucking; atsushi: HEAVY DUBCON WARNING, stuck, perv atsushi, penetration; akutagawa: blackmailing if you squint, degradation, choking, penetration; oda: penetration; ango: public sex, penetration, riding; nikolai: dubcon, home intruder f!masturbation, penetration; sigma: a tiny bit of perv sigma, oral (f!receiving); fyodor: priest!fyodor, religion/blasphemy kink, christianity-specific, oral (m!receiving)

reid: putting my dual major in journalism to work by subtitling these like bad porn videos. little not so thought out drabbles many with no definitive ending just silly whore thoughts. some are more stupid than sexy but either way i hope you enjoy because this was a blast to write HAHAHAHA

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ CHUUYA NAKAHARA—HOT GYM BUDDIES CAN’T WAIT UNTIL AFTER THEIR WORKOUT TO FUCK!

“Yeah, that’s a lot better. Look at you, you got it,” the pretty redhead mutters, his hands still firmly on your hips as he spots your squat. “Give me one more, I know you can.”

The praise prompts you to draw in a deep breath that has nothing to do with your next squat; anyway, this gorgeous man, kind enough to help you with your form, believes in you. So you bend once more, squatting down, down, and pushing back up—until on your way back up, you feel your legs begin to buckle.

“Woah, woah.” It’s sweet how concerned he sounds as his hands fly up to the bar and his feet nudge you forward to help you replace the weight on the rack, but his hips end up pressed to yours, and you’re gasping. “You okay?”

You’re fine, caged between him and the bar as he leans over your shoulder to glimpse your face that’s flushed from exertion. Only exertion, surely, even though your ass is pressed firmly to his pelvis. He doesn’t seem hard, but you can still feel it, and it feels big.

“Yeah,” you breathe, moving to duck under the bar, but it’s low and you’re feeling a little dizzy, so you teeter backwards into him, and as his hands find your waist again. “Yeah, I’m about to be done anyway.”

“You should really stretch after maxing out like that,” he suggests, turning you around. “Don’t wanna be hurting, do you?”

But you can only look into his intense eyes and shake your head lightly before he’s easing you to the ground on your back, settling each of his knees over one of your thighs, and slotting his shoulder beneath your hamstring. He pushes forward, gently, slowly, looking to you for anything wrong; and there isn’t.

There’s nothing wrong, except for the fact that you can feel his huge dick against your pussy through both of your shorts.

It’s all you need to start moving blindly, reaching down for his waistband, pawing at his neck, mashing his lips to yours, and he doesn’t hesitate to do it back—he lets up on your leg only to slip your shorts off before your ankle is back over his shoulder and he’s grinding the head of his cock into your wetness.

“You gonna let me in, baby?” he pants hotly, looking down at you squirming beneath him. “Yeah, I know you will—you’re strong, you can take it.”

His tip catches on your clit, and you gasp before he’s plunging into you, setting a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck!”

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he groans. “So fuckin’ tight.”

He hits the inside of you perfectly, his soft ginger hair falling loose from its low pony—you wish you knew his name so you could scream it, but you settle for moaning, panting, cussing, as he throws your other leg over his shoulder and drills into you on the gym mat. ⊹

⊹ OSAMU DAZAI—MY OLDER BROTHER ALMOST CAUGHT ME FUCKING HIS BEST FRIEND!

“Shit—I’ll be back, gonna go shower this off. Asshole.”

That was what your older brother, Chuuya, grumbled at Dazai before scurrying off to the bathroom. The three of you had just gotten back from getting ice cream, and Dazai had the brilliant idea of snatching Chuuya’s cone from him and sticking it in his hair. Cursing ensued the entire walk home.

And Dazai popped the tail end of his cone in his mouth and grabbed for your wrists as soon as your brother was out of sight, which leads you to now—in the living room, on the couch, bouncing furiously on his cock as he grunts.

“Osamu—be quiet!” you plead with him, but you’re moaning, too.

His lips fall into a grin. “Don’t worry, cutie, I can still hear the shower—fuck! Just keep—keep doing that, you feel so fucking good.”

So you reinforce your grip on his shoulders and slam your hips down to meet his, over and over, drawing sinful sounds from both of your bodies as you’re separated by a single thin wall from your brother—Dazai’s best friend, who would probably murder both of you if he found out you were fucking.

And then the water turns off. You muffle the choked cry you let out into Dazai’s shoulder, so damn frustrated that you won’t get there, not before Chuuya comes back—but Dazai’s flipping you onto your back, grabbing you by your hips, pulling you into him with such fervor that you almost shout.

“Need it, baby, I need to cum in this pussy—”

“Osamu!”

But even you can’t tell if you’re egging him on or warning him to stop—with no sound buffer and Chuuya undoubtedly coming back any minute, your body decides for you that you need it, too, you need to cum and you will, no matter how much your mind protests; your eyes flick nervously up to the hallway when they’re not rolling back from how Dazai’s rearranging your guts.

“He’s gonna come back—unh—and you’re gonna sit here with my cum in you, and he won’t even fuckin’ know.”

He’s digging his nails into your hips and ass, making you twitch, reaching down to rub your clit hard, and when you cum, clenching around him, he shoves his palm over your mouth and spills into you with a last few wet smacks.

Dazai’s scrambling back into his pants as footsteps pad down the hall; he all but throws himself at the other end of the couch as you curl up, dressed but fucked silly, focused on not letting the evidence of what just happened gush out of you and leak onto the couch.

“Fuck was that noise?” Chuuya mumbles, sauntering out as he’s tying his wet hair up.

“Hm? I don’t know, I didn’t hear anything.”

When Chuuya turns toward the kitchen, Dazai tosses you a wink. Your face burns as you feel yourself leaking. ⊹

⊹ DOPPO KUNIKIDA—COLLEGE HOTTIE SUCKS DICK FOR EXTRA CREDIT!

"You do realize I'm going to have to fail you," your professor informs you, looking into your eyes with a little regret. Truthfully, you've always been personable in class and shown promise as a student, and he's disappointed. Not in you, just in your poor academic performance during your final semester.

"There has to be something I can do to make up for it," you nearly plead, hands clasped together on the edge of his desk as you look to him with hope. You know you've been slacking, but you need this class to graduate.

"I don't know—" He sighs your name, clearly confliced. Your attendance record is less than impressive these days, and Kunikida's enforced a strict class participation policy throughout his years of teaching—as well as no extra credit—something he makes clear to all of his students in all of his classes, and you especially should know better after taking his classes for four years. "I don't know. Like what?" Maybe you can do a few credits in the summer and still walk at graduation, or pick up an internship. But he wants you to take the initiative and accountability.

He doesn't really know how to protest when you're slipping out of your seat and sinking to your knees as a spark starts to gleam in your eyes. You rattle off a few academic ideas for posterity, but ultimately find your hands sliding up his thighs and fiddling with his belt.

Fuck it, you think, you'll be out of here soon enough. Plus, Kunikida's always been kind, compassionate, understanding, and sexy—too invested in his field to even notice that handfuls of students on campus would throw themselves at him given the chance. Maybe he'll finally understand, you muse to yourself, as you work his hardening cock out of his dress pants.

He chokes out your name when you take his length in both of your hands; he's all the way gone when you're swirling your tongue over his tip, giving in to your little idea for extra credit sooner than he'd ever admit to himself.

"Oh, fuck—" He's staring up at the ceiling of his office in pure bliss because his student is working hot, sloppy kisses down the underside of his cock. His hands twist into your hair, and you gaze up at him, doe-eyed, as his head falls forward and he looks at you through his glasses. "Keep going. Don't fucking stop."

He's trying not to thrust into your mouth when you fondle his balls; his pretty blond bangs are dampening with sweat, and you can't take your eyes off him as you bob your head faster, hollowing your cheeks around him and moaning at the taste of your professor's cock heavy in your mouth. He twitches and jumps at your attention to detail—your fingers raking tracks down his thighs, your frantic tongue, your fluttering lashes and sugary moans, gags, and slurps that are music to him.

You know, as he falls apart more and more by the second, you won't have to worry about this class anymore.

"Unh—uh, yes, oh, fuck, we'll work something out, yeah, gorgeous? Just don't stop—d—don't stop, don't fucking stop, I'm gonna cum down that pretty throat, yeah, and we'll get it all figured out." ⊹

⊹ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA—NAUGHTY SECRETARY SEDUCES HOT BOSS!

You're perched on his desk when he returns from the meeting—Yukichi, your boss, who, lately, you can't stop thinking about climbling like a tree. You're sure your coworkers see it, too, but you're his personal assistant; no one gets to be as close to him as you, and he trusts you.

Which is why you'll put the moves on him today.

He runs a hand through his silver hair—obviously stressed—sighing as he pulls his office door shut and turns to you. He speaks your name, holds a few papers in your direction, begins instructing you on what he needs from you next.

But you know better what he needs. The papers that make their way into your hands are quickly forgotten about on his desk as you uncross your legs and hop down, sauntering up to place on hand on his arm, the other on his chest.

"Sir, you look so tense. Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do?"

He makes his way to sit down in his office chair, disregarding your touch in a way that has you following after him like a puppy in need of attention.

He doesn't answer, but he also doesn't protest when you settle between his knees beneath his desk and push his yukata and haori up to pool around his hips. His dick is thick and veiny, even soft; when you spit in your hand and begin to work him up and down his mouth falls open with a sigh, and he grows at least two inches as he hardens beneath your grip.

You didn't think you'd be able to fit his absolute monster cock in your mouth, but you find yourself, throat open, with your nose pressed to his happy trail as you swirl your tongue and breathe through your nose frantically; he holds your face down, speaking very little but making up for it with the way he grunts hotly in that deep, rough voice as he bucks into the back of your throat.

"Unh—ugh..."

You breathe through your nose as his hips fall into a brutal pace; his hands on either side of your head keep you pinned in place as he uses you, takes his stress out on you. Your fingers massage his balls, and you can't help the way you hum around him when he twitches in your mouth.

Yukichi pulls out of your jaw and you gasp for air, wiping the spit that drips down your chin with the back of your hand, but he's not done. When he does speak, it's demanding, low, and it makes your cunt throb with need.

"Get up. Get up, sit on the desk. 'Need to fuck you."

You do as you’re told, open up for him with no hesitation, smiling as he works his fat cock into you—yeah, his stress will be gone in no time with the way he fucks your hole so hard and fast that you shake with each creak of his desk. ⊹

⊹ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA—STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR WITH MY SEXY NEIGHBOR!

"Ah! Atsushi, open the door!"

"Um," he frets, punching the button until he's sure it'll break. If it's not broken already. "I—I can't, it's not working!"

Not working? Is he fucking serious? You're trapped in the door—all you did was try to reach back out for your bag you'd set by the elevator and now you're stuck, by the waist, between the two sliding maneuvers, your bag dangling from your hands.

"It's supposed to have a sensor! It's not supposed to even close when someone's on the threshold!" you cry through your teeth as you try to squirm out. Atsushi's mind is already working, though, over the way you're pinned in half, wiggling your ass as you struggle against the industrial strength of the elevator door. "Atsushi, help me, please call someone or something—"

But his hands are on your hips, pulling backward, and you can't help the noise of surprise that slips out of you.

"Atsu', I seriously don't think that will work, please, just call—Atsushi!"

His hands shake as he slides your pants and underwear down your thighs, exposing your ass; he tunes out your protesting as he undoes his belt. You hear the clink of it hitting the ground, you feel his fingers dipping into your cunt from behind, and he cannot be fucking serious.

"I'm sorry," he cries like it's out of his control—he feels like it is. "I'm sorry, you're so hot, you're right here, I've wanted this for so long."

And you feel yourself beginning to drip at his desperate tone. You can't fucking believe it—this is depraved. This is some shit you would've never expected from the sweet, cute boy in the apartment across the hall who helped you drag your bedframe and couch from this very elevator to your room but here he is, prodding at you with his pathetically leaky cock while you're stuck in the damn elevator door.

And you'd be frustrated with how your body reacts, but as he slides his dick along your cunt, drenching himself in your wetness, you can't help but arch back into his touch.

"Atsushi, you have to fuck me, please."

And he does, fast and unpracticed—he whimpers for you, tells you you're all he thinks about when he jerks off; he confesses that he looks through his peephole when he knows you're leaving for work or school just to get at least one glimpse of you everyday to fuel his imagination, and you gush around him, the pain of the door trapping you falling irrelevant, drifting out of your mind, as he buries his face in your shoulder and humps into you like an animal, pounding against your cervix.

"Fuck, that's right, so good, so, so good—better than I could've imagined—agh, fuck, that's right, take it all, take it, take it, take it...!" ⊹

⊹ RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA—HOT BABE HAS NO MONEY, LETS THE DELIVERY BOY DESTROY THAT PUSSY!

You rifle through your wallet and hum when you come up short. "Um, I... know you said you don't have a card reader, but I don't have enough cash."

The delivery boy looks at you with little more than boredom until you invite him in.

"Here, let me look in my room—I might have more stashed somehwere..."

He stands over you, searching you with his curious gray eyes as you dig through a drawer, a bag, another bag, only to come up short again. You even peek under your mattress for good measure, but you're just out. You turn to him sheepishly.

"I, uh... I don't have enough, I'm really sorry."

"Well, I can't leave without some form of payment," he deadpans, and you try to think of something, anything—you have a few giftcards for other delivery services, some jewelry—but he's letting his bag fall off his shoulder and grabbing you by the hips before you can register what he means.

You end up face down, ass up on your bed as a compromise, his hips rutting into you from behind as he holds your wrists behind your back. Ryuunosuke his name tag read—you're quick to adopt a way around that mouthful, moaning out, "Ryuu, Ryuu, please!" as he splits you open and calls you a whore.

"Fuckin' slut—"

When you're able to glance back for a second you can see his pretty black hair swaying with each rough thrust, and you're sure he's hitting your lungs—he's so fucking deep inside you, and you're gasping, moaning for more.

"—so eager to—unh—take this dick. Probably hiding your cash somewhere."

But whether you are or not doesn't matter; your eyes are rolling back to the hard smack of his hips against your ass and the white-hot pleasure that rolls through you every time he plows straight into your g-spot, and he's throbbing inside of you at the way your cunt grips him. Your pizza's getting cold on the counter in your kitchen, but you don't care—not when he bunches his fingers up in your hair to arch you back up to him so he can wrap his other hand around your throat.

You hold onto him as he bends you, pulling air down into your lungs when you can, and his gravelly voice barrages you with more words that make you gush around his cock.

"Gonna let me cum in this pussy so you don't have to fork over a few bucks for a pizza? Pathetic."

His teeth sink into your shoulder, his other hand reaches down to torture your neglected clit, and you're sure he's gonna break you over this, your hot delivery boy who just so happened to have the idea to fill you up as payment. You pant his name desperately between thunderous moans—you're gonna cum soon. ⊹

⊹ SAKUNOSUKE ODA—THIS PLUMBER FIXED MORE THAN JUST MY PIPES!

"Okay, that should do it." The man stands up, back to a height at which he towers over you, and you lean on the doorframe to the kitchen as he shuts the cabinets beneath your sink. "It's all movin' again."

You were in your robe when you answered the door, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't run to the bathroom to fix your hair and swipe on a little lip balm while he was working. Really, you hadn't meant to try to fuck the plumber. But this man was gorgeous, with his auburn hair, stubble-lined jaw, large hands, broad shoulders. You felt your eyes widen when you first laid eyes on him, and now you'd been throbbing thinking about what those thick fingers could do other than plumbing.

You pull your robe tighter around yourself, hoping to subtly accentuate the outline of your body. "Thank you so much, really, I don't know what I'd have done without the sink."

"Probably used the dishwasher a lot more," he cracked dryly, and your previous words suddenly feel stupid, but it only serves to make him hotter.

"How should I pay you?" You stride over to him. "Cash?"

"You can just pay online." He looks tired, but he has a well-meaning smile on his face.

You look a little incredulous. "Really? I can't—do you accept tips? Seriously, top notch work and super quick. I can't not thank you."

"I'm really not supposed to take tips," he drawls, running a hand through his hair. You find yourself biting your lip; you can't look away from him. You must look like a rabid animal right now, but you can't help it.

He doesn't tear his eyes away from yours.

"I mean, unless..."

Those three words are what find you on your back in your bedroom with your robe thrown open, the sweet and efficient plumber named Sakunosuke standing at the edge as he impales you on his cock. He worked you open with those fingers first, fast and harsh, just how you begged him to, but nothing could've prepared your weeping hole for the stretch of his fat dick—and now he's pounding into you, his hands clutching your waist as you hold your legs open for him to thrust deeper, deeper.

“Oh, shit. Unh—so wet—“

His groans come from his chest, deliciously—he looks a little like he knows he shouldn't be doing this, but your cunt is sucking him in like it was what he was supposed to come here for all along. You spasm and clench around him and he throws his head back, your whole body rippling as his strong hips and heavy balls smack lewdly against your ass with each thrust.

“Mmph—fuck—break that sink of yours more often, alright?” ⊹

⊹ ANGO SAKAGUCHI—I JOINED THE MILE HIGH CLUB (EXTREMELY RISKY)!

The man you met in the airport bar—oh, he’s pretty.

He's even prettier in your mind when the pilot announces phone permissions now that you're in the air, and the first notification your phone receieves is from him.

I have an open seat next to me in first class. Come visit.

You don't hesitate for a moment. You stride forward from the economy section, past the flight attendants who protest at you flimsily to search for his seat number—you see his unmistakably gorgeous hair, his glasses, his sharp side profile as he speaks to an attendant, catches you in his peripheral, and then shoos her away.

There's hardly niceties before one of your legs is slung over his knee and he kisses you with fervor. You don't think too hard about the people around you—none of whom can actually see you but without a doubt will know exactly what's happening in a few minutes—as you grind down onto his thigh, bite his lips, draw soft gasps from him when your knee nudges his bulge.

Before you know it, his cock is free and he slides your underwear to the side so you can sink onto him; he groans shamelessly when your wet heat envelops him completely, causing heads to turn in your direction, but you just brace your knees against the airplane seat and your hands on his shoulders make quick work of milking him of everything he has.

He kisses you, hot, heavy; he smells good, he smells expensive, and you tear his dress shirt open to rake your nails down his chest as he grabs your hips, letting his head fall back and a full-bodied moan into the cramped air of the plane as he does so. You lift up to let him thrust, let lewd smacks resonate throughout first class, and with your chest in his face he rides your shirt up to latch his teeth to one of your nipples; you echo him, moaning unabashedly, running your hands through your hair, gripping him as people look on.

"Fuuuck, yeah, feels so good," he praises from beneath you. "Knew I had to fuck you from the second I saw you." His eyebrows draw up in concentration as he looks down at where your bodies meet and continues fucking up into you hard. "Hah—listen to that cunt cry for me. You like being watched, huh? Gonna let me fuck you 'til the plane smells like sex? Huh?"

You nod, messily, desperately, and he quickens his pace ever faster, pulling you back down into a sloppy kiss.

An attendant awkwardly approaches in the aisle, but the gorgeous man who's destroying your insides just holds up a palm, shoos her away again.

"Fuck—so sexy. Keep takin' this dick." ⊹

⊹ NIKOLAI GOGOL—LUCKY INTRUDER GETS TO FUCK HORNY VICTIM!

You're splayed out on your bed, two fingers stuffed deep in your cunt—and he's just surprised you didn't hear him breaking the lock on your front door.

When you meet his eyes, you're so glazed over with pleasure that you barely miss a beat, your gaze only blowing wide when he peers around your bedroom doorway. His snowy white hair, his sharp features—you can't find the sense to be alarmed at this unfamiliar man, the one holding your laptop and—is that your wallet?

Doesn't matter—they're clattering to the ground, another factor here you can't find it in yourself to care about as his gray eyes are locked onto you fucking yourself open on your sheets. The sheen of sweat that covers your skin, your desperate moans as you grind your clit against your palm, the obscene squelching that comes from your wet cunt—they all serve to propel him over to you, prompt him to dig his already-hard cock out of his pants as you just watch, beg him with your stare to come fill you up. You're so lucky he's here, really—you look like you're struggling to get deep enough with your pathetic little fingers; he guesses it's only fair that he repay you for the material goods he's about to rob you of and pawn off on whatever sucker will buy them for cash, right?

"Right? I'll help you out—" He gives his cock a few pumps as he positions himself between your legs, "—looks like you need it, sweetheart."

You can only bite your lip to supress the moan that leaves you as he enters your cunt and lifts your fingers up and out of you by your wrist to swirl his tongue around them, lick them clean. He's huge—even your third and fourth fingers weren't enough to prepare you properly for the burglar’s dick in your needy pussy, so you let out strained combinations of gasps and screams when he starts to drill into you mercilessly. You can't help the way your ankles link behind his back, the way you reach for him—and he smiles wickedly when your eyes roll back.

"You like having a stranger's cock deep in your guts, huh?" he speaks between deep sighs and grunts. You can only babble your incoherent agreement, your laptop and wallet forgotten, the actions of this man forgotten, everything but how desperately you need to squirt all over him forgotten—you reach down and rub your clit, play with your nipples as your mouth is frozen open as you moan, moan for this man who's just broken into your home. "Uh—yeah, you're gonna like takin' all my cum, too, I bet." ⊹

⊹ SIGMA—MASSEUR HELPS HIS SEXY CLIENT RELIEVE STRESS!

"Oh, yeah—right there," you groan softly as the heel of his palm meets the center of your back. You've been looking forward to this full-body massage the whole week, and this man was not disappointing.

He works his way down your back, twisting knots out as he goes—his lithe fingers feel like heaven against you, overworked from hours at your desk hunched over your computer.

But it's a full-body massage, as mentioned before; when his fingers dig into the plush of your asscheeks, you can't help the groan that leaves you.

"That okay?" he inquires; you think you hear a shake in his voice.

"More than okay," you reply, thinking you could fall asleep as he works you into relaxation. You could close your eyes from how good it feels, or you could peek behind you and see his face burning with blush at your sounds. You do the former, but smirk a little at how sweet it is of him to check in.

He checks in again when his hands are inching your underwear down, and you tell him of course, he's the professional.

He's still the professional when he climbs up on the table behind you and buries his flushed face into your cunt. You arch up and back, crooning, as his hands stay massaging you, spreading you apart, kneading your ass with career expertise and plunging his tongue into you with enthusiasm.

"Oh! Oh—feels good," you breathe, grinding back into his face, onto his nose. He laps at you happily, this masseur you've barely looked upon for a total of twenty seconds, but you can't lie to yourself and say you didn't think he was pretty when he led you back to his room; he hums into you, sending you shivering, twitching. "Please, more."

"Mhm," he mumbles, releasing one of your asscheeks to lay back beneath you and insert a long, thin finger into your pussy; you sigh, you settle onto his face, and his tongue speeds up in this new position in a way that rips a high moan from your lungs.

Not hunched, but arched, the stretch feels heavenly on your back in combination with the way he pumps another finger into you; you graciously sit up, throwing your head back, begging, pleading for more until his tongue settles into a tight back-and-forth rhythm over your clit. "Please, please, please—"

You grind against his nose, your moans become more erratic, and you dig a hand into his hair as your hips move in dizzying circles over his head.

"Cum for me?" he asks, muffled by your pussy; you'll ride him until his face is soaked. ⊹

⊹ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY—CONFESSING MY SINS ENDS IN HUGE CUMSHOT ALL OVER MY FACE!

“And I’ve been terribly, terribly lustful, Father Fyodor,” you say with regret. “It consumes me. I really never used to be like this."

"Temptation lurks everywhere," the priest sympathizes. You can barely see him through the grate, but his soft, forgiving voice sounds close to you. "The Devil and his army are constantly exploiting our vulnerabilities to try and turn us to sin, but worry not, child of Christ; we're human. I'm here to guide you. Continue."

You shift on the wooden seat in the booth, crossing your hands tighter over your lap. "That's really all. It's been very concerning to me. I think about it... I think about it so much."

"About what?" Father Fyodor prompts, and you bristle even more at being asked to elaborate.

"Sex," it barely comes out as more than a whisper. "I can't help it—it's everywhere. It leaves me feeling so... exhausted and frustrated, and the only thing that helps is... Well..."

But you're met with silence. You know he wants you to go on. You're here to confess, after all.

"...touching myself. I do it at least once a day. It's like a burning within me—nothing helps but—but—cumming all over my fingers." Your voice is laced with shame—the throbbing of your cunt as you talk makes you feel all the more guilty, and you can only imagine how he's shaking his head. "That's all. That's all."

"You'll do penance," he says, comfortingly. "When we bring our sins to the Lord and repent he cleanses us of them."

The grate pops out of the window, and you see the the waist of his alb as he speaks his next words.

"You'll take communion, now—" the cinctures around his waist fall undone beneath his hands, and the alb is hiked up to reveal a leaking cock, pretty and pale and bobbing in the air of the confessional. "—and be saved from the flames of perdition.”

"Yes, Father, please. Anything to be saved." But your mouth waters in a way that you know has little to do with your thirst for salvation.

"Take this; eat. This is my body," he recites the scripture as his length reaches through the window; your hands, eager and already on the threshold, accept him willingly. As you wrap your mouth around him, he groans, and it's like seraphim singing their holy, holy, holy.

"That's it—child of God, follower of Christ; I absolve you of your sins," he gasps as his tip hits the back of your throat which was begging for forgiveness moments ago. His hands reach through the window to stroke either side of your face, and then hold you in place to fuck your throat. "The Lord will forgive you for this." ⊹

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Practical Demonstration

Kinktober Day 3: Exhibitionism Yandere Male Alpha Professor x Gender Neutral Omega Teacher Assistant CW: Noncon, public sex, exhibitionism, abuse of authority, knotting, musk, scent kink, biting, claiming bites, pheromones, overstimulation, a/b/o dynamics, slick, suppressants, manipulation, praise kink, general yandere behavior Word Count: 1.6k (Okay guys, hope you enjoy this given how long you have waited for it! PLEASE comment, comments feed me <3)

You were the teacher's assistant for the renowned and well-regarded Professor Reid Sullivan. He had degrees involving anatomy and physiology as well as the psychology of alphas and omegas, and the college he taught at was prestigious.

Professor Sullivan was a bit of a prodigy, already being a highly respected academic despite only being in his early-thirties. His unkempt shaggy hair, dark circles around his eyes, and slight stubble made him appear older. His classes were popular, though he refused to teach large crowds. They reduced his efficacy. At most, he would teach 24 students at a time. This class, though, was limited to 20.

This meant students were always clamoring to sign up before all the slots were filled. Not only were people eager to watch him teach because he was so accomplished and good at educating but also because he was considered rather attractive by many students.

It didn't help that he was also an alpha, and despite his tired nerdy demeanor, he was actually quite fit.

But the main reason his classes were so popular was that he often incorporated live demonstrations into his lessons. In the past, he had omegas demonstrate heat and alphas show off knots while he pointed to and described the anatomy and the purpose for it. He even had an alpha and omega pair demonstrate mating on more than one occasion.

Working under him wasn't bad at all. You were an omega, so you were naturally pretty nervous at first. Working with an alpha superior could sometimes be rather hard. Even in this progressive age, there was still a degree of discrimination and power abuse.

Professor Sullivan was exceedingly kind to you. He even got you coffee and something to eat every morning, even though that would typically be a task more suited to you. He also let you sit in his large cushy chair and was quick to let you use his jacket as you rarely used one, and his classroom tended to be cold.

He was very patient and understanding, guiding you through lessons and helping you learn how to handle a class.

Then, on the day of the final lecture, his true colors were revealed.

He locked the door and then stood in front of it. He put on the display screen a presentation about seducing and breeding an omega.

"Omegas are instinctively attracted to mates that provide them with food. It doesn't have to be major, but a daily coffee and small bit of food will make them naturally more receptive to you..."

The lecture went into greater detail on the subject, also explaining how he microdosed the coffee to make suppressants less effective, but you weren't paying much attention. You were too busy staring at the screen that had pictures of you happily sipping coffee or nibbling on muffins or bagels. It was all so surreal.

"For a shy omega, you can't simply bombard them with your scent. It could scare them away or turn them off completely from your continued advances. Instead, get them acclimated to it..."

The screen now showed how he slightly scented his chair and jacket and gradually scented it more juxtaposed with images of you grading papers while wearing the jacket and sitting in his chair.

You were mortified. Professor Sullivan was a monster! You tried to push past him and get to the door. It almost worked as he was taken aback by your determination to escape, but the extra few seconds that you spent fiddling with the lock were all he needed to wrap his arms around you from behind.

"If your omega acts fearful before mating then the steps we took earlier will help us now."

“G-get off!”

You thrashed and squirmed, but he licked, sucked, and nibbled at your neck until the overstimulation clouded your mind and made your resistance much more feeble. After that, he turned you towards him and, after disrobing completely, pushed your head under his arm so that you got a full dose of his pheromones.

The students gave the professor their undivided attention. One or two omega students envied your place as they stared with wide-eyed fascination at Professor Sullivan's now throbbing cock. The rest were a bit uneasy because you clearly hadn't been willing. They weren't actually too shocked, though, this type of thing wasn't exactly uncommon.

"See how limp the omega is? That's because I canceled any bothersome suppressants, made them accepting of my scent, and subconsciously had them see me as a provider."

The professor had a student roll over his chair to the center of the class before locking the wheels in place. He sat you down tenderly after taking off all your clothing and setting it aside.

"Gather around class, feel free to masturbate as long as you pay attention. This is especially important for you alphas."

Some of the students rubbed their crotches. The alphas encouraged the omegas since it would be helpful later to get them all hot and bothered. After the class formed a circle around the two of you, he continued.

"Now, before an alpha inserts themself into their omega, they must make sure the omega is properly slicked up. Some was produced earlier, but we will want more."

He demonstrated the proper neck stimulation techniques as well as how to slowly stretch out and prepare an omega by inserting gradually more fingers. Then he showed them how to massage an omega’s entrance with their cocks before penetration.

Before he even slipped his cock into you, you were already drooling with a dazed expression.

"Okay class, I said today would be an interactive lesson. The 10 alpha students were each delegated an omega and as part of their final grade, they were tasked with doing everything to their omega classmate that I have done to the TA. Omega students will be granted a participation grade."

The alpha half of the class began pulling the omegas close, stuffing the omegas' faces into their musky crotches or underarms.

The omegas were all bewildered. One gladly accepted their fate, a few were shocked into inaction, and most struggled. Only one managed to escape and get out the door but was chased down and brought back.

These were all students with dreams and goals, most didn't want to be an alpha's property and cumdump. At least not before they did things with their lives.

"I made sure all of your desks were sturdy enough for this, you can prop your omegas up on them if you'd like, putting your clothes on the desk and laying your omega on that will make them more comfortable, like a miniature nest with your scent."

The alphas were all stoked and barely able to hold back.

"If you have your omega in a state like our wonderful TA here is demonstrating then you may slip your cock into them, go slowly though, at least at first."

Professor Sullivan was the first to sink in, causing you to moan softly, soon the entire room was filled with the gasps and moans of a room full of omegas mingling with the grunting and heavy breathing of their alpha lovers.

The air was heavy with pheromones, musk, and the scent of slick.

Your mind wasn't really able to process what was happening around you, though. Your nose was focused on the scent of the one mating you as you instinctively wrapped your arms and legs around him.

"Oh, don't forget to praise your omegas, they may not understand your words right now, but the tone will soothe them."

He kissed you possessively.

"You're such a good mate for me. A perfect partner. So good at helping me teach this lesson. Taking my cock so well~"

He cooed into your ear lovingly as the alpha students praised and complimented their mates. Occasionally, an omega shuddered and squealed in orgasm with their alphas not too far behind.

Sullivan sped the pace up for you, and you didn't last much longer after that. You spasmed wonderfully around his dick as you came hard. Not the only time, though, as he coaxed several more climaxes from your trembling body before he finally came himself and tied you with his big knot.

"Once you've knotted your lover you should bite their neck to mark them as yours. This is essential to making your omega feel safe and loved and will make you secure in the knowledge that everyone knows who they belong to."

The professor bit your neck hard, causing you to moan more even as you flinched in pain.

"You look so beautiful with my mark."

After all the mating had finished and all the knots had deflated, the omegas were all still pretty out of it. Mating and being claimed took a lot out of them and it would probably be an hour or two before they recovered.

"Don't forget your homework! Aftercare is ESSENTIAL!!! Take your omegas to your dorms and make sure they are hydrated, well fed, and praised. If they get cranky at today's events, they probably just need another round or two of breeding."

Which, as it turns out, is exactly what he determined you needed when you wouldn't listen to reason at his home later. He tried to explain that it was all to enhance his teaching. He had been looking for the right omega to fall in love with and help with his lessons for YEARS!

And he finally found you. A TA aspiring to work in his field! You had always wanted a career in academics, and now you had one as his permanent assistant and live demonstration participant!

[romugh]

SUDDENLY, THE STAR I STUDIED WAS YOU- NR

pairing- prof!natasha romanoff x gp!student!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, legal age gap (23, 29), oral (n & r rcv), handie (r rcv), blowie (r rcv), slight lactation kink (if you squint), slight exhibitionism (?), slight praise kink, unprotected sex, soft & rough emotional sex, i think that's all?

wc- 12k??? smut (6k worldbuilding - angsty (?), 6k smut)

a/n- requested! this is my first request ever, so sorry if it's a bit weird, i tried to find a balance between everything while still following the request. have fun reading :p quite a few gip requests, but non-gip fics coming out soon, too! also, apologies for my nerdy physics side coming out, i promise not all metaphors will always be stars and the universe in my upcoming fics!

request- natasha and the reader meet at a bar, where an instant connection is formed. the next day, the reader realizes she’s late for class, only to find that natasha is a part-time professor filling in for the regular instructor on maternity leave. despite their complicated dynamic, feelings begin to develop, neither of them able to forget or ignore the connection that seems to have been written in the stars.

synopsis- what began as a fleeting connection at a bar turns into something deeper when you, a dedicated astrophysics student, find yourself caught between the stars you study and the one standing before you—your brilliant redheaded physics professor.

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel - comment or dm if you want to be added x

The bar hummed with the usual Sunday night energy—laughter, clinking glasses, and music filling the air. You sat with your friends, playing the role of the designated sober one, one you were used to taking on during nights like these. The thought of Monday morning classes didn’t bother you much; you always managed to balance things out. Your attention wandered, eyes scanning the room as you sipped on your soda.

Across the room, Natasha Romanoff sat at the bar counter, her attention drifting as she absently traced the rim of her half-empty vodka glass. Her fingers, adorned with sleek silver rings, caught the changing light, glinting like electrons shifting between energy levels—an occasional shimmer with each delicate movement. Her gaze remained fixed on the woman who had entered the bar a few minutes prior, the small group of friends around her seeming to create a cosy bubble. Natasha had felt it the instant you walked in—an inexplicable pull that she couldn’t quite ignore.

Your eyes locked for the first time, and something clicked, like a cosmic event neither of you fully understood. The noise of the bar seemed to dull for a second. Her green eyes traced your face, your presence in the crowd creating a strange gravity she couldn’t quite explain, tugging her focus toward you as if you were the singularity at the centre of a black hole.

For you, it was no different. The world blurred at the edges, leaving only her. You couldn’t shake the sensation, that nagging curiosity about why you felt so drawn to this woman. The pull was strong, but there was no rational reason for it. You didn’t even know her, yet your gaze found hers again and again, as if pulled into her orbit.

Between the bustle of people, the two of you kept making fleeting eye contact. Each time, it lingered just a little longer, an electric charge building with every glance. It was subtle, like the gravitational waves rippling through space, just beneath the surface—something powerful yet invisible, drawing the two of you together.

Just when you felt like the next moment would finally break the tension, someone bumped into you, breaking your line of sight. You shifted, trying to find the woman again through the crowd, but she was obscured as someone passed in front of her, momentarily blocking her view of you. The connection, broken for a brief second, left both of you with an unexplainable ache, a yearning for something you didn’t quite understand.

The noise of the bar faded into the background, but the weight of that momentary connection lingered in the air between you and Natasha, tugging at something deep inside, an invisible force drawing you together. Even though the crowd shifted and swayed, people passing, glasses clinking, laughter echoing in the air, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being pulled toward her.

Your friends were immersed in the night’s fun, pulling you in with their conversations, but your thoughts kept drifting back to her. Across the room, Natasha sat at the bar, staring into her glass, though her mind wasn’t on the drink. She felt it too—the strange, almost gravitational pull that tugged at her every time her eyes found you. She couldn't help but scan the crowd, hoping for another glimpse.

But as the minutes ticked by, it became harder to focus on anything else. Both of you were caught in a loop, searching, finding, and then losing sight of one another in a pattern that felt more like orbiting than anything else. Natasha’s heart thumped in her chest, harder than she wanted to admit. She couldn’t place why her breath hitched every time she thought she saw you again, why it felt like the space between you was shrinking, collapsing like the event horizon of a black hole.

Finally, around 11, your friends started gathering their things, calling it a night. You followed them outside, laughter and banter still buzzing around you, but your mind wasn’t there. While you stood outside waiting for the Uber, Natasha remained inside, scanning the dancefloor for your face. Her heart seemed to beat louder, faster, like a photon travelling through space, seeking light but finding none. The momentary loss, the lack of your presence in the crowded room, tugged at her.

Feeling the need for fresh air, Natasha slid off her barstool, the cool night air rushing over her as she stepped outside. As soon as her foot hit the pavement, her mood lifted again—a soft, inexplicable flutter in her chest—because there you were.

You turned around just as she stepped outside. The world felt smaller, the space between you thinner. For a split second, everything else disappeared—the traffic noise, the hum of your friends talking, the bar chatter behind her. It was just you, standing there under the night sky, your eyes finding hers as if by some unspoken command.

And there it was again, that tension, pulling taut between you two like a force field. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and you nodded toward the bar. “Hey, want a drink?”

Natasha blinked, caught off guard, but she didn’t let it show. The warmth of your smile did something to her, something unexpected and unfamiliar. For a moment, her cheeks heated, and she cursed herself for reacting this way. But when she returned your smile, it was genuine, and her eyes twinkled like the stars above your heads, a silent reflection of the celestial wonder she often looked toward for answers.

“Sure,” she replied, her voice smooth, though inside she felt like she was standing too close to the sun, her resolve melting, but she wasn’t about to let it show.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

As the night wore on, the bar became a backdrop to a deeper connection that unfolded between you and Natasha. Time seemed to stretch and compress, bending to the rhythm of your conversation. Each word exchanged felt like a discovery, peeling back layers and revealing more of the universe within both of you.

For you, Natasha’s presence was mesmerising. Her gaze, intense and thoughtful, drew you in like the gravitational pull of a distant star. Her words were a melody of intellect and curiosity, and as she spoke, it was as if she was unravelling the mysteries of the universe right before your eyes. Her laughter, when it came, was like the twinkling of stars, bright and infectious, adding to the enchantment of the evening.

As the conversation deepened, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. The music played on, but it was a mere hum compared to the symphony of thoughts and emotions you shared. The chemistry between you was palpable, though it remained unspoken, hanging like a silent promise between your exchanged smiles and knowing looks.

The minutes turned into hours, and by the time the clock edged closer to 1 a.m., the atmosphere in the bar had shifted. The music, once a mere background noise, began to pulse with a vibrant energy. The crowd's energy surged, and the dancefloor started to beckon with an irresistible pull.

You felt it too—the undeniable urge to move, to lose yourself in the rhythm, to let the music carry you. You looked at Natasha, who was still absorbed in your conversation, her eyes reflecting the same sense of anticipation.

With a smile that spoke of unspoken desires, you stood up, extending your hand toward her. “Come on,” you said, your voice inviting. “Let’s dance.”

Natasha looked up, her eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there was a spark—a shared excitement and curiosity. She hesitated only for a second before placing her hand in yours. As you led her to the dancefloor, the sensation of her hand in yours was electric, like a surge of energy connecting two celestial bodies. The transition from the intimate conversation to the dancefloor felt like a natural progression, a step closer to the unknown yet thrilling.

The music's tempo picked up, the beats more insistent, and the dancefloor pulsed with life. You and Natasha moved together, bodies swaying to the rhythm, each step a dance of discovery and connection. The surrounding world faded, and it was just the two of you, lost in the music and each other’s presence.

As you danced, the cosmos seemed to align around you, the energy between you building, charged with the unspoken understanding that this night was far from ordinary. The stars outside might have been the same, but within the bar, under the pulsating lights, the universe had shifted, drawing you and Natasha closer in a celestial dance of your own.

On the dancefloor, the lights cast fleeting shadows and highlights across the crowd, creating an otherworldly ambiance that perfectly matched the charged atmosphere between you and Natasha. The music's rhythm was a heartbeat echoing through the space, a constant pulse that synced with the mounting tension between you.

As you moved together, your bodies swayed in time with the music, and the space between you was filled with an almost tangible electric charge. Natasha’s proximity was intoxicating; her body moved with a grace that made every gesture seem deliberate, every touch a whisper of something deeper. The heat from her body radiated toward you, a warmth that contrasted with the cool air around you. It was as if the space between you was charged with a magnetic force, drawing you closer with each beat.

Your breaths were synchronised, each inhale and exhale creating a shared rhythm that made the air between you thick with anticipation. The warmth of Natasha's breath brushed against your skin, a tantalising hint of the intimacy that was just out of reach. Every time she exhaled, her breath mingled with yours, creating a delicate, almost imperceptible mist that hung between you, a prelude to something more.

The way you moved together felt like a cosmic dance, a choreography written by the stars themselves. Your faces were close enough that you could feel the soft, fluttering rush of Natasha's breath against your cheek, a feather-light sensation that made your heart race. Her scent—a subtle blend of something earthy and sweet—filled your senses, adding another layer to the growing tension. The scent of her perfume lingered around you, a promise of what might come if only you took that final step.

As the music swelled, so did the space between you, narrowing with each synchronised movement. Your hands brushed against each other, not quite touching but close enough to feel the warmth and electricity of the almost-contact. The tips of your fingers grazed Natasha’s arms, each brush of skin a delicate dance that sent shivers up your spine.

As you danced, Natasha became acutely aware of the press of your bodies against each other. She could feel the firm outline of your body pressing into hers, the subtle, undeniable evidence of your physical arousal becoming more apparent with each move. Her mind, however, was consumed by the emotional pull she felt towards you. The realisation of your physical presence was there, but it was the depth of the connection and the intensity of the moment that held her attention, making her heart race and her thoughts scatter, consumed by the unexpected bond forming between you.

Every step, every turn brought you closer, the space between you shrinking to a mere whisper. The world outside faded into insignificance; it was just the two of you, locked in this electrifying dance of proximity and tension. The music, the lights, the crowd—all were background to the magnetic force pulling you toward each other, a force that felt as inevitable as the gravitational pull of a star.

The longer you remained in each other’s orbit, the more the tension skyrocketed, reaching a crescendo that left you both breathless and yearning. It was as if the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting for the moment when the pull between you would finally break free and the last inch of space would vanish.

Every inch you moved toward each other was charged with potential, the slightest shift in your posture bringing you ever closer. Natasha's lips were soft and inviting, just a whisper away from yours. You could feel the heat of her breath mingling with yours, a tantalising promise of what was almost within reach. The world around you seemed to blur into the background, leaving only the two of you in this charged, suspended moment.

Just as your lips were on the verge of touching, a sudden, jarring push came from the crowd. Someone bumped into Natasha, jostling her slightly and causing your lips to make the barest of contact. The touch was fleeting, barely a brush, but it was electrifying. The moment your lips connected, a spark seemed to leap between you, sending a jolt of sensation through both of you.

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat as she absorbed the unexpected charge. You could feel the lingering warmth of her lips, the fleeting connection leaving you both breathless and yearning for more.

The crowd’s movement had broken the spell, and Natasha stepped back slightly, her cheeks flushed and her gaze still locked onto yours. The touch had been a mere fraction of a second, but it had set off a cascade of emotions, leaving both of you craving the closeness that had just been so tantalisingly close.

As you steadied yourselves, the magnetic pull between you remained a constant, irresistible force drawing you together. The music played on, its rhythm now a mere backdrop to the heightened anticipation that filled the space between you. Though the moment had passed, its electric charge lingered, leaving both of you with an unspoken promise and a shared yearning for what might come next.

The crowd around you swirled and ebbed with the rhythm of the night, but the tension between you and Natasha remained palpable, a hum of anticipation. As the music continued its relentless beat, you both found yourselves gravitating back to the bar. Natasha’s hand rested gently on your back, her touch warm and soft, a comforting presence amidst the pulsating energy of the club.

When you glanced at your phone, you were surprised to find it was already 3. The hour had crept up on you both with gentle inevitability. With a soft sigh, you decided it was time to head home, the night having stretched far beyond your expectations. You exchanged warm, lingering looks, the unspoken promise of what could be hanging between you like a delicate thread.

The brief connection you shared at the bar was intense, but neither of you had exchanged contact details, only names. Lost in the whirlwind of the night and the unexpected bond, you both had an unspoken understanding that you'd see each other again soon. Yet, neither of you anticipated how quickly fate would intertwine your paths once more. In reality, 'soon' would turn out to be just a few hours away, as destiny was ready to bring you together again in the most unexpected way.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

You woke up gently, still wrapped in the warmth of your duvet. A content sigh escaped your lips as you snuggled deeper into the covers. But as you lazily pried one eye open, your heart leaped at the sight of the digital clock flashing 8:20 a.m.

The realisation struck you with a jolt; you were already twenty minutes late for class. Panic surged through you as you scrambled out of bed, your mind racing with a mix of frustration and urgency.

You threw on clothes in a flurry, silently cursing yourself for oversleeping and hoping that, somehow, the stars would align in your favour. You clung to a faint hope that Professor Rambeau would understand—it was Monday morning after all, and you were usually always punctual.

As you hurriedly gathered your things and dashed out the door, a lingering thought crossed your mind: being late to class felt like a small price to pay for the pure connection you’d experienced the night before. A smile tugged at your lips, a fleeting reminder of that moment. But as you jogged towards campus, the smile quickly faded into a frown as you hoped, more than anything, that you wouldn’t be the only one arriving late.

As you rounded the corner of the campus building, you spotted Maria and Leighton walking briskly toward the lecture hall, their animated conversation making its way through the crisp morning air. Both were clearly running late as well, their hurried pace matching yours.

Maria Hill, with her signature no-nonsense demeanour, was in the middle of an animated tirade about Leighton's habit of hitting the snooze button too many times. Her voice, though frustrated, had a familiar warmth that felt oddly comforting. Leighton Murray, on the other hand, seemed to be giving as good as she got, her own sharp retorts mingling with laughter as she tried to defend her morning routine.

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as you approached them. Their bickering, filled with playful jabs and half-serious complaints, brought a smile to your lips and a sense of relief to your otherwise frazzled morning. As you caught up with them, you felt your heart steady, thankful that you were not the only one scrambling to make it to class on time.

"Hey, you two!" you called out, falling into step beside them. "Glad to see I'm not the only one who's fashionably late."

Maria glanced at you, her expression softening from irritation to mild amusement. "Looks like we're all in the same boat. Where’s your usual punctuality?"

Leighton grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Yeah, you’re usually the first one here. What happened—sleep in for the first time ever?"

You shrugged, the earlier stress melting away with their presence. "You could say I had a bit of an unexpected night. But hey, at least I’m not alone in this."

As you approached the lecture hall, the three of you exchanged knowing glances and shared a collective breath, ready to face whatever Professor Rambeau had in store for the day. The laughter and camaraderie of your friends had turned a stressful start into a reminder that sometimes, the universe has a way of aligning things perfectly—even if it's just for a shared moment of imperfect punctuality.

As you and your friends entered the classroom, a sudden hush fell over the room. The usual chatter about equations and coursework abruptly ceased, replaced by a palpable tension. Your eyes scanned the room, and to your shock, the figure at the front was none other than the redhead from last night.

Natasha stood at the front, her face composed and inscrutable. Her emerald eyes flicked towards you, registering a brief flicker of surprise, followed by an emotionless coldness that was hard to ignore. She then quickly shifted her gaze to the other two girls standing beside you, Maria and Leighton, who she realised were not at the bar a few hours ago.

Leighton, always quick with a quip, broke the silence with her usual bravado. "Uh, excuse me, but who the hell are you, and where’s Professor Rambeau?"

Natasha’s voice, sharp and devoid of warmth, cut through the air. “If you had been on time, like every other student here, you would know that I am replacing Professor Rambeau, who is on maternity leave. Unless you want to start off on an even worse foot with me, I suggest you sit down and get to work.”

The depth of Natasha’s rasp was familiar, but her tone was starkly different from the warmth you’d experienced the night before. It was all business now, a far cry from the easy connection you’d shared earlier.

With no other choice, and feeling the weight of Natasha’s authoritative gaze, you exchanged uneasy glances with Maria and Leighton before finding your seats. As you sat down, the reality of the situation set in. Natasha—your enigmatic redhead from the bar—was now your professor, and the unspoken promise of the previous night suddenly felt very unattainable in the light of this new dynamic.

As the classroom chatter resumed, Natasha wrestled with her swirling thoughts. The vibrant connection she had felt with you the night before now seemed almost unreal in the sterile academic environment.

Despite her efforts to focus on the lecture, her gaze kept drifting toward you. You were absorbed in your work, but Natasha couldn’t shake the pull she felt towards you. The ease and connection from last night clashed sharply with the formalities of the classroom, making her feel disoriented.

As students whispered and worked, Natasha’s thoughts remained centred on you. Each glance in your direction stirred up a mixture of confusion and longing. The promise of what had been a potential connection now seemed distant and unattainable, buried under the weight of her professional responsibilities and the unexpected emotions she was struggling to manage.

As the clock struck noon, signalling the end of class, the room buzzed with the sound of shuffling papers and the clatter of backpacks being packed away. You took your time, even though you knew you should move on from the fleeting connection you had felt the night before. It had been nothing more than an intense moment, pure and untouched, but still, it lingered in your mind.

Leighton and Maria were quick to escape, their footsteps echoing down the hallway as they left, eager to distance themselves from the professor who had, in their eyes, bruised their egos. Natasha, meanwhile, remained seated at her desk, her attention apparently fixed on her papers, though she was acutely aware of your presence lingering in the classroom.

The room had quickly emptied, but you were still there. You moved at a deliberate pace, your footsteps quiet and measured. As you made your way toward the door at the front of the class, bringing you closer to Natasha's desk, the tension between you seemed to build again, palpable and almost tangible.

When you paused to turn and look back, Natasha's gaze met yours. Her emerald eyes were now swirling with emotions—confusion, surprise, sadness, and a sharp pang of guilt. Despite the undercurrent of it, the tension remained, the unspoken bond between you still crackling in the air. It was as if the connection you had shared was waiting to be acknowledged, hanging heavily in the space between you, and drawing both of you into a magnetic, unresolved pull.

The room fell into an enveloping silence, both of you locked in a quiet standoff of unspoken emotions. Natasha’s gaze was steady, but her expression betrayed a swirl of confusion and yearning. You, unable to resist the growing tension, finally broke the silence.

With a small, rueful smile, you shook your head gently and murmured, “You don’t look a day older than 25, I’m sorry.” The words, meant to ease the tension, had the opposite effect. Natasha’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, her eyes wide as they searched yours. The warmth in her gaze was now unmistakable, reflecting a mix of surprise and a lingering pull towards you.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, a sad smile tugging at her lips as she absorbed your words. The soft blush on her cheeks spoke volumes, a silent testament to the attraction and connection that still simmered beneath the surface.

“I didn’t think a student would be out on a Sunday night,” Natasha replied quietly, her voice carrying a hint of regret. “I’m sorry too.”

The tension in the room remained palpable, as if the air itself was charged with the unresolved feelings between you. You were just as sweet, gentle, and caring as you had been the night before, and Natasha found herself just as drawn to you, the pull between you undeniable.

You sighed softly, closing your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts. When you opened them again, the warmth and sincerity in your gaze were unmistakable. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of the unspoken connection hanging between you both.

Natasha stood up slowly, her movements deliberate as she turned her attention to the pile of papers on her desk. She gathered them with careful precision, placing them into her bag. The act was a physical attempt to distance herself from you, a bid to bury the connection that lingered so insistently.

She had to do this. She had to let the connection remain in the past. But how could she, when you had managed to break down the walls she had meticulously built? Walls that protected her independence, her self-reliance, and her belief that she needed no one. How was she supposed to simply walk away from someone who had managed to penetrate her defences so effortlessly, and so fast? This wasn’t like her, and she tried to convince herself that losing her job over a woman she had met less than 24 hours prior to this moment wasn’t worth it.

As Natasha turned, you immediately noticed the shift in her demeanour. She was retreating, attempting to leave behind the connection that had seemed so potent only hours earlier.

Maybe you were just imagining things—after all, you didn’t know her well enough to decipher the myriad feelings that flickered across her gaze. What were you even thinking, clinging to this fleeting connection?

“Make sure not to be late next time, Y/N. This is your first and last warning,” Natasha said, her voice striving for a cold, impersonal tone. But even as she spoke, you could sense the struggle behind her words, the battle between her professional facade and the personal turmoil she was trying so hard to hide.

You remained silent, trying to understand her position, even though it was difficult to fully grasp. After all, you didn’t know her well enough to be this affected. You reminded yourself to act like an adult—leave it behind, forget about the few hours you shared, and move on. You had to let go of the memory of her gaze, the way she danced with you, and the tender, reserved softness she had shown you just hours earlier.

With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out of the classroom. Natasha's face fell slightly as she watched you go, her emotions a mix of regret and resignation. She quickly masked her feelings, lifting her shoulders and straightening her back, running a hand through her hair as if to shake off the lingering weight of the moment.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

The weeks passed like drifting stardust, each day adding to the tangled web of emotions between Natasha and you. What had once felt like a fleeting connection was now a persistent gravitational force, pulling you both in a direction neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Yet, rather than embrace that pull, both of you built walls around it—resorting to coldness, even biting words, whenever the tension grew too close to the surface.

In the classroom, Natasha’s cold demeanour became a carefully constructed barrier. Her words were sharp, professional, and devoid of the warmth you had felt in her gaze that first night. But even through her frosty demeanour, you caught glimpses of the lingering emotions she was trying so desperately to hide. Her eyes would flicker toward you, a little too long, before snapping away—like someone dodging a question they don’t want to answer.

Outside the classroom, in the hallways and the cafeteria, your interactions were no better. When you crossed paths, there was an almost tangible electricity between you, but both of you chose to hide behind icy exchanges or curt nods. Every sarcastic remark from Natasha seemed to cut deeper than it should, but you responded in kind, unwilling to show any vulnerability in return. The magnetic pull between you, undeniable as it was, became something you both tried to sever with words and avoidance.

Yet, despite the coldness, there was still something underneath it all, a yearning that you both refused to admit to yourselves. As the days stretched into weeks, the tension only grew more unbearable. The brief glances, the curt exchanges, the moments of accidental contact—all of it felt like a star burning too brightly before it inevitably collapses.

You found yourself thinking about her at the oddest moments—late at night or when the classroom was quiet, the memory of her eyes and her presence refusing to leave your mind. Despite her sharp words, you couldn’t help but notice the way her voice softened when she thought no one was listening. Natasha, on the other hand, cursed herself every time her gaze drifted toward you or when her thoughts lingered on the conversations you used to have. Every insult, every cold word, was her way of trying to smother the fire that had started to burn too brightly.

In the spaces between, the two of you danced around the connection you once felt, pretending that the hostility was all that remained. But deep down, beneath the sharp words and cold exteriors, you both knew the pull was still there, simmering just out of reach—waiting for a moment when everything else would finally fall away.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

Natasha had always been good at compartmentalising—keeping her personal life in one box and her professional life in another, sealed tightly. But with you, it was different. The more she tried to put distance between the two of you, the more it gnawed at her. The pull between you two was magnetic, no matter how cold she tried to be, how many walls she threw up. Each glance in your direction became a betrayal of her own willpower. She cursed herself for feeling the way she did, but the flutter in her chest wouldn’t stop. And despite her best efforts to be distant, there was always a spark in her eyes when she looked at you, one she couldn’t quite extinguish.

You felt it too, the constant undercurrent of tension. Every time you looked at her, you saw something flicker behind those green eyes—emotions she refused to let rise to the surface. The way she treated you, cold and distant in class, felt forced, as if she were fighting herself as much as you. But you had grown frustrated with the pretence, with the tension that never seemed to resolve. Every shared glance in the hallways, every encounter in the cafeteria only

added fuel to the fire burning between you two. There was an undeniable pull, a gravitational force pulling you closer, but every time you neared, she pushed you away.

Natasha, on the other hand, was getting more conflicted with each passing day. It was becoming harder for her to hide the warmth that surged every time she saw you. Yet she kept up the act, treating you like any other student. But it wasn’t working. Not anymore. The barrier she had built was crumbling piece by piece, and she knew it.

For you, the frustration was mounting. She acted like the connection you had felt was nothing, as if she could pretend it didn’t exist. And yet, you knew it was there, simmering beneath every interaction. You could see it in the way her eyes lingered on you, the quick glances that conveyed so much more than she wanted to admit. It was only a matter of time before it all came to a head.

Both of you were falling—falling deeper into something neither of you could admit to yourselves, let alone each other.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

It started small—barely noticeable—but Natasha had picked up on it during the last few classes. You were acting differently. Smiling more at other people, laughing with Leighton and Maria, even flirting a bit with someone in the row behind you. The attention you gave others didn’t go unnoticed, and Natasha, from the front of the class, felt an unfamiliar tightness in her chest.

She wasn’t supposed to care. You were her student. You weren’t supposed to affect her this way, but every laugh you shared with someone else, every time you leaned in just a little too close to another person, that tightness grew. She gritted her teeth, her words sharper as she gave out the day’s assignment, trying to keep her tone professional. But you could tell—Natasha was fuming.

And that only made you push it more.

Over the next few days, you noticed her reactions becoming more pronounced. The way her eyes lingered on you longer when you talked to someone else. How her expression hardened when you didn’t give her your full attention. There was a cold jealousy simmering under the surface of her strict professionalism, and you knew it. You had felt the tension for weeks, and maybe it was the frustration of never addressing it that made you push her buttons now.

Today, you arrived late again, strolling in with an air of indifference, knowing it would irritate her. Her eyes followed you as you made your way to your seat, deliberately not apologizing, instead flashing a smile at someone next to you. You felt Natasha’s gaze burning into you from the front of the room, her hands gripping the edge of her desk just a little too tightly.

By the time class ended, the weight of her stare had become unbearable. She hadn’t said anything to you, but the tension between the two of you was thick enough to cut through. You

could feel her irritation from across the room, and part of you enjoyed it—enjoyed pushing her, seeing how far you could take it before she snapped.

As the rest of the class filtered out, you stayed behind. Natasha was still seated at her desk, papers spread out before her, but she wasn’t looking at them. Her gaze was fixed on you, cold and steely, the perfect picture of control—except for the way her jaw clenched every time you flashed a smile at someone else.

When the room finally emptied, leaving the two of you alone, Natasha didn’t wait.

"You were late again," she said, her voice dangerously low, each word clipped and precise. She pushed down the guilt she knew would follow, deciding that for your own good, this needed to stop. "Care to explain yourself this time, or are you really willing to throw away your degree over someone you spoke to for just a few hours at a bar?"

You raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against a desk, that familiar smirk playing at your lips, though you couldn’t help but feel your heart twitch slightly at her words. "I didn’t think you cared so much. Not like anyone else seemed to mind my late arrival."

Natasha shot you a piercing look, her annoyance barely masking a hint of something softer. "Of course I care. It’s part of my job to ensure you don’t waste your potential."

You leaned in slightly, a teasing grin on your face. "You know, I think I can sense how you feel. It’s hard not to, especially when the connection between us is so intense."

Natasha’s heart stammered in her chest as she fought to maintain her composure, the anger bubbling up faster than gravity could pull her down. Her eyes narrowed, the restraint she’d held onto for weeks fraying at the edges. "Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing."

You crossed your arms, feigning innocence. "What am I doing, exactly, Professor Romanoff?"

Natasha stood, the chair scraping against the floor as she moved toward you, closing the distance with each deliberate step. "You’ve been testing me. Pushing me. I don’t have time for whatever game you think this is. Move on. Stop trying. This never started, yet we both know it’s over."

You scoffed, meeting her fiery gaze head-on. "Maybe if you’d stop acting so jealous whenever you see me ‘moving on,’ as you put it, I’d have more success at that. But see, Professor," you emphasised her title with a teasing smirk, "I think you’re a bit jealous. Maybe you should move on too, or stop acting like a scared deer and confront your feelings head-on."

Her breath hitched, hands curling into fists as she struggled to maintain her composure. The emotions in her eyes were clear—unknown to her, you could practically read her like an open book. The slight anger flickering in her gaze didn’t escape your notice; her jealousy was merely a glass wall, transparent yet impenetrable.

"You're right, Natasha," you continued, straightening up and taking a step toward her. "Something has changed. We’ve been pretending for weeks, and I’m done with it. You can push me away all you want, but we both know this doesn’t just disappear."

Natasha’s gaze flickered, her usual mask slipping as anger and desire clashed behind her eyes. She took another step forward, her voice low and trembling with the effort to contain her emotions. "You need to stop."

But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. The tension had reached a breaking point, and the space between you crackled with everything left unsaid. "Why? Because you can’t handle it?"

That did it. Natasha’s control snapped, her hand shooting out to grab your wrist, pulling you closer until your faces were mere inches apart. Her voice was a harsh whisper. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t feel it? Every time I look at you, I—"

She cut herself off, her breath shaky as she tried to rein it in, but you saw the raw emotion in her eyes, the way her chest rose and fell with the effort of keeping it all inside.

"You don’t have to hold it in anymore," you murmured, leaning in closer, your breath mingling with hers. "Just let go."

For a moment, it felt like time stopped. Neither of you moved, both breathing hard, the weight of everything you had been holding back pressing down on the small space between you. Then, as if something in you shifted, you slowly turned towards the door. Natasha’s grip on your wrist tightened for a second, her eyes flaring in sudden panic as you reached for the handle.

Natasha’s chest was tight, each breath a struggle against the storm of emotions rising inside her. She’d kept her walls up for so long, hidden behind the cold professionalism that had been her refuge, but now, alone with you in the classroom, the weight of it all crashed over her. Her heart raced as you locked the door and closed the blinds, her pulse thrumming in her ears. 

"Leaving already?" she asked, her words cutting through the quiet, sharp and defensive, like a last-ditch attempt to hold onto some semblance of control. But the truth was laid bare in the way her voice wavered, betraying her. 

When you turned back, your eyes dark with intention, Natasha felt a shiver run through her. There was no going back now. No retreat. The late hour, the locked door, the quiet hallway—it all felt like you had stepped into another world, one where she didn’t have to hide anymore.

You stepped forward, your presence commanding, and the distance between you seemed to evaporate. Natasha’s breath hitched as you loomed closer, her fists tightening at her sides in a desperate attempt to hold on to the crumbling control she had left.

“We both know you don’t want me to go,” you said, your voice low, carrying a certainty that made her heart pound harder. You weren’t asking; you knew. The truth hung between you like a blade, sharp and undeniable.

She opened her mouth to argue, to push you away, but no words came out. Instead, her body betrayed her, leaning toward you as if it had been waiting for this—waiting for you—to close the gap.

“Why don’t you admit it?” you continued, stepping even closer, your presence overwhelming her senses. Your breath ghosted over her skin, your words digging into the rawness she had kept hidden for so long. “Why don’t you just say what you’ve been dying to say all this time?”

Her jaw clenched, the anger flaring up in her chest like a defence mechanism. "You’re so... infuriating," she bit out, her voice tight with the effort of holding it all in. But you could see it—the vulnerability she was trying to hide, the way her hands trembled slightly at her sides, as if she was on the edge of losing herself completely.

"I know," you whispered, your voice soft, yet heavy with intent as you reached out, your fingers cupping her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze. "But you love it."

And there it was. The truth she had been denying, the one she had tried so hard to bury beneath layers of professionalism and restraint. The truth that scared her, not because of what it was, but because of how deeply it ran. How much she wanted you. How much it terrified her to let herself feel it.

For a second, Natasha’s resolve wavered, her breath catching in her throat as the weight of your words settled between you. Her heart raced, her mind spinning with everything she had fought to suppress, but then your lips crashed against hers, and the last of her defences shattered.

The kiss was fierce, raw, and filled with everything that had built up between you for weeks. Natasha’s hands fisted in your shirt, pulling you closer, desperate and needy, as if the space between you was unbearable. Your lips moved against hers with an intensity that left her dizzy, her mind clouded with the sensation of you—your taste, your warmth, the way your body felt pressed against hers.

She moaned into the kiss, her body arching toward yours, her fingers digging into your chest as if she needed to anchor herself, to keep from drowning in the torrent of emotions flooding her. But then you pulled back, your gaze burning into hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to still.

"Sit on the desk," you commanded, your voice rough, thick with both desire and authority.

Natasha hesitated, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to pull back before she lost herself completely, but the fire in your gaze, the undeniable pull between you, left her powerless to resist. Slowly, she stepped back, her legs trembling as she hoisted herself onto the edge of the desk. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and in that moment, she wasn’t the composed professor anymore. She was just a woman, vulnerable and exposed, her walls finally down.

You moved between her legs, your hands sliding up her thighs, rough and insistent, and Natasha let out a soft gasp, her body responding to your touch without hesitation. Her head tilted back slightly, her lips parting as a shudder ran through her, and in that moment, it wasn’t just about desire—it was about everything that had been left unsaid between you.

The tension, the frustration, the fear—it all came crashing down, and with it, a deep, overwhelming need to let go. To stop fighting. To feel.

As your hands moved over her body, your touch was firm, unrelenting, yet there was something else beneath it. Something raw and emotional, something that made Natasha’s chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the fact that this wasn’t just some fleeting moment. This was real. You were real. And that scared her more than anything.

Natasha’s breath hitched, her hands gripping the edges of the desk as if she was holding on for dear life. "You have no idea what you do to me," she whispered, her voice shaky, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and desire as she met your gaze.

You paused, your hands resting on her thighs, your expression softening as you leaned in closer, your forehead resting against hers. "I think I do," you murmured, your voice low, intimate, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. "And I’m not going anywhere, Natasha. Not until you let me in."

Her eyes fluttered shut, a shaky breath escaping her lips, and for the first time, she let herself believe it. Believe that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to keep running from this. From you.

"I’m scared," she admitted softly, her voice barely audible, as if the words themselves were too fragile to speak aloud.

"I know," you whispered, your thumb brushing gently over her cheek. "But you don’t have to be."

And in that moment, with the weight of everything hanging between you, Natasha finally let herself fall.

The room was suffused with a quiet tension, the world outside forgotten as you pressed your forehead gently against hers, the warmth of your breath mingling in the air between you. Natasha’s legs had wrapped around your waist almost instinctively, pulling you closer, holding you to her as if letting go meant facing the storm of emotions she had finally let herself feel.

Your hands cupped her face, your touch tender despite the desire simmering just below the surface. You kissed her softly at first, teasingly, your lips brushing against hers with the kind of control that let a shiver run down Natasha’s spine. Her hands, once clenched in anger and frustration, now rested against your soft chest, fingers splayed as if she needed to feel every inch of you, every beat of your heart.

Her breath hitched when you deepened the kiss, your lips parting hers as your tongue slid against hers in slow, deliberate movements. The kiss wasn’t hurried—it was filled with the kind

of longing that had been building for weeks. You poured every unsaid word, every moment of frustration, every bit of want into the way you kissed her, and Natasha responded with a soft moan that she barely managed to keep from escaping. Her thighs tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer.

The kiss grew more fervent, the emotional weight of it intertwining with a heat that neither of you could ignore any longer. Natasha arched toward you, her body pressed against yours, and as your lips moved against hers with growing intensity, you felt her start to lose the composure she had clung to for so long.

You couldn’t help but feel the way her body responded to you—the way her breath hitched in her throat, the way her fingers curled against your chest, desperate for more, yet still trying to maintain control. But the control wasn’t hers anymore, not really. You held it, though gently, almost reverently, as if you knew exactly what Natasha needed and how fragile this moment was.

But then you felt it—her legs tightening around you, pulling you in as your erection pressed against her through the fabric of your clothes. Natasha let out a quiet gasp, her grip on you tightening. Her lips parted against yours, the kiss turning rougher, more desperate, as the heat between you built to a fever pitch. Every kiss, every touch was charged with the intensity of everything that had been bottled up for too long.

Natasha tried to keep herself composed, tried to stifle the soft noises that threatened to spill from her lips, but you could feel her restraint faltering. Her legs squeezed tighter around you, her hips shifting ever so slightly, and you knew she was pushing herself closer to you, needing the friction, needing the closeness.

Your hands slid down from her face, trailing over her neck, her shoulders, until they settled on her waist, pulling her even closer, pressing her against the desk. She let out a shaky breath, her head falling back for a moment as your lips moved to her neck, trailing soft kisses that made her shudder.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you back up to her lips, and the kiss that followed was anything but soft. It was hungry, needy, filled with a desire that neither of you could hold back anymore. Natasha’s body pressed against yours, her legs keeping you firmly in place as her lips moved with a desperation that matched your own.

The heat between you grew with each second, the tension thick in the air as your hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves of her hips, her waist, as if you were memorising every part of her. The more you touched her, the more she responded, her body arching into your hands, her breath coming in ragged gasps that she struggled to keep quiet.

She bit her lip, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she felt your erection press harder against her. The sensation sent a wave of heat through her, and despite the risk of someone walking past, she couldn’t bring herself to care. All she wanted in that moment was you—your touch, your kiss, the feeling of you so close, yet still not close enough.

"Someone could..." she started, her voice barely a whisper, her lips brushing against yours as she tried to find her breath. But the words trailed off, unfinished, as you kissed her again, harder this time, swallowing whatever protest she might have made.

Her body betrayed her, hips pushing up against you, and you felt her legs tighten, pulling you even closer until there was almost no space left between you. The feeling of your erection pressing against her sent a thrill through her body, and despite the slim chance that someone could walk past, she didn’t care anymore. The risk only made it more intoxicating.

Your hands slid to her thighs, gripping them as you pressed her harder against the desk, your kisses growing more frantic, more heated with each second. Natasha’s breath came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried—and failed—to keep herself quiet. Her fingers gripped the edges of the desk, her body trembling under your touch, and you could feel how much she needed this, needed you.

Every kiss, every touch was electric, the tension between you finally breaking free, and the feeling of her pulling you closer, the way her body responded to yours, left you both on the edge of something you couldn’t quite control.

"Natasha," you murmured against her lips, your voice thick with emotion, with need, and she responded with a low moan, her body arching into yours, her fingers digging into your back as if she couldn’t bear to let you go.

Her lips parted, her breath hot against your skin as she whispered your name, her voice trembling with the weight of everything she had been holding back. The sound of it—the vulnerability, the need—was enough to undo you, and you kissed her again, deeper this time, pouring everything into that one moment.

As the kiss deepened, the air between you became thick with desire, the heat of the moment pressing against every corner of the small, dimly lit classroom. Natasha was still trembling under your touch, her legs locked around your waist, her chest heaving with shallow breaths as she struggled to keep the rising sounds inside her throat.

You pulled back slowly, the kiss breaking with an audible gasp from Natasha’s lips, her eyes half-lidded with need and confusion as she looked at you. Her grip on your shirt slackened for just a moment, but the fire in her gaze told you she was still desperate, still on edge. But you weren't rushing. Not now.

Without a word, you stood back, your hands lingering on her thighs for just a second longer before you let go completely. Natasha watched you, her breath still unsteady, her brow furrowing as you took a small step away from her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body aching from the absence of your touch, but you didn’t rush to fill that space.

Instead, you took your time, letting your gaze travel over her—taking in the way her legs dangled off the edge of the desk, how her skin flushed pink in the soft glow of the classroom’s lights. Natasha was still, frozen almost, waiting for your next move, her body tense with the anticipation of it. Her lips parted, as if to ask why you’d stopped, but the words never came. She didn’t have to say anything. You could see it in her eyes, the way she was balancing on the edge of need, barely holding on.

Slowly, you reached for the hem of your shirt, your fingers slipping under the fabric. Natasha’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes followed your movements, her pulse quickening as you started to undress, the anticipation building between you like a crackling charge.

You didn’t pull the shirt off in one quick motion. Instead, you dragged it over your body slowly, teasingly, lifting it inch by inch, revealing the skin beneath in a sensual, deliberate way that made Natasha’s gaze darken. Her hands gripped the desk behind her, her knuckles white as she watched you. The soft rustle of the fabric was the only sound in the room, aside from the erratic rhythm of her breathing.

As you pulled the shirt over your head, you tossed it aside, letting it fall to the floor without a second thought. Natasha’s eyes followed it for just a moment before flicking back to you, her gaze roaming over the newly exposed skin, drinking in every detail. The controlled, measured way you undressed was a stark contrast to the fire that had been between you just moments before—a slow, sensual display that had Natasha captivated, her body humming with a new kind of tension.

You held her gaze as your hands moved to the waistband of your pants, your fingers slipping just beneath the fabric, teasing at the idea of what was coming next. Natasha’s breath hitched, her eyes locking onto your hands, and you could see the way her body shifted, as if every part of her was straining to get closer to you again. Her legs tightened around the desk, her lips parted as she fought to keep the soft sounds that threatened to escape locked behind her teeth.

With agonising slowness, you began to slide your pants down, revealing the skin beneath inch by inch. Natasha’s chest rose and fell in rapid succession, her eyes tracing every movement of your body. The smooth way you undressed, the control you still held in this moment, was a direct contrast to the way her body had been shaking, the way she had surrendered to the moment so completely. You could see the effect it had on her—the way her breath faltered, the way her fingers flexed against the wood of the desk.

Once your pants pooled around your ankles, you stepped out of them, your movements deliberate, your gaze never leaving hers. Natasha’s eyes were locked on you, her lips trembling with the effort to stay silent, to keep control over herself, even as her body betrayed her, every inch of her skin tingling with the awareness of you standing before her.

You stood there for a moment, letting her take you in, letting her eyes wander over your now half-bare form. The weight of her gaze sent a thrill down your spine, but you didn’t rush. You wanted her to feel this, to burn with the same desire that had been building between the two of you for almost three months.

Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, and her eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a quiet plea. She wanted you—needed you—but you weren’t going to give in just yet. You were in control, and the power of that sent a rush of heat through your veins.

You stepped back toward her, standing between her legs once more, your hands finding her thighs again. Natasha let out a shaky breath as your fingers skimmed the sensitive skin just below the hem of her dress, teasing her without giving her what she wanted. Her body leaned into you, but you held her back, just slightly, enough to keep her wanting.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, your voice soft but heavy with intent. Natasha’s breath caught, her eyes flickering with something vulnerable, something raw.

She tried to respond, but you silenced her with another kiss, your lips moving against hers with the same measured control you’d used to undress. It wasn’t a rough kiss—this time, it was slow, deliberate, your hands sliding up her thighs as your tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting the need she could no longer keep hidden.

Natasha moaned softly, her legs tightening around you again, and you could feel her body trembling under your hands. The kiss grew deeper, more passionate with every second, but you maintained the control, teasing her just enough to keep her on edge, to keep her aching for more.

She could feel your erection pressing against her again, harder now, and the sensation sent a ripple of heat through her body. Her hands moved to your back, nails digging in as she tried to pull you closer, but you resisted, keeping just enough distance to drive her mad. The slow, sensual way you were kissing her contrasted so sharply with the intensity of her need that it left her gasping for air, her body trembling with the effort to hold back.

You broke the kiss, your lips trailing down to her neck, leaving a path of soft, deliberate kisses that made Natasha shudder beneath you. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as you worked your way lower, your hands slipping under her dress, your fingers tracing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, teasing, exploring, but never quite giving her what she craved.

“Tell me what you want,” you murmured against her skin, your lips brushing against her ear, your voice soft and controlled. Natasha let out a quiet whimper, her body arching into you, but you held her back, just enough to keep her from getting what she wanted.

“I… I want you,” she breathed, her voice trembling, her body desperate for more.

But you didn’t give in yet. You wanted her to beg for it, wanted her to show you how much she wanted you.

You tutted softly, feigning disappointment as you gave Natasha a fake pout, shaking your head ever so slightly. “Be more specific, Natasha,” you murmured, your voice laced with teasing command. But beneath your words, there was a tenderness, a patience that had her wavering on the edge.

Natasha’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her eyes flitting down to avoid your intense gaze. She was struggling, and you could see it—could feel it in the way her body shifted under your touch. No matter how much she wanted this, no matter how desperately she ached for you, she had never been stripped bare of her defences like this. You had torn through her walls, peeling back the layers of control she clung to so tightly. She felt vulnerable, exposed, naked in ways that went far beyond the clothes still clinging to her body.

You could sense it—her hesitation, her fear. And even though she sat before you, legs wrapped around your waist, desire burning in her eyes, you didn’t push her. You didn’t rush her to undress, didn’t demand anything more from her than she was ready to give.

You stood there, your body half-bare, clad in nothing but your bra and boxers. The air between you was charged, the intimacy of the moment so thick it was almost suffocating. Natasha’s eyes flickered over you, taking in your form, her breath catching in her throat. But you didn’t push. You waited.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence but carrying no judgement, only understanding. “I know you’re scared—for your job, for me…” You paused, letting the weight of your words hang between you. You knew her fears, knew the weight of the responsibilities she carried, the precarious line she was walking. But there was something deeper in her fear—something more intimate, more personal. She was scared for you too. Not just of losing you, but of letting you in.

But you knew, even as she struggled to speak, that if it ever came down to it, if she had to choose between you and her job, she would choose you. In a heartbeat. And as you stood there, the tension wrapping tighter around the two of you, the silent communication between your eyes and hers told you something else. Something just as important.

She realised you would choose her too.

For a long moment, the two of you stood in that quiet space, everything unspoken swirling between you, heavy and electric. And then, something in Natasha shifted. Her gaze softened, the fear still there but no longer consuming her. She let go—of her walls, of her control, of the weight she had carried for so long.

Slowly, her hands reached for yours. Her touch was tentative, trembling, but it was real. She pulled you closer, drawing you back into the space between her legs. But this time, there was something different in her movements—something raw and vulnerable, something that took your breath away. She was letting herself go in a way you had never seen her before. No more pretence. No more games.

“Please…” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion, her breath trembling as she spoke. Her words were soft, but the need in them was palpable, heavy with everything she had been holding back. She was incredibly vulnerable in this moment, but so incredibly needy too. And goddamn, she was in love. You could see it in the way her eyes brimmed with tears, in the way her lips quivered as she struggled to keep her composure.

“Please,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, but every word hit you like a wave. “Please… make me feel good. I just want you to be mine,” Natasha’s voice trembled, her hands tightening around yours, as if she feared you might pull away. “Please, I want to be yours.”

Her eyes, wet with unshed tears, searched yours, her vulnerability laid bare, her heart exposed. She had never let anyone in like this, had never given someone this much power over her. But she didn’t care. She just wanted you.

Natasha’s breath was ragged, her eyes glistening with a mixture of desire and vulnerability as she looked up at you. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then reached for your hands with a determined yet trembling grip. Without a word, she guided your hands beneath her white shirt, her movements urgent, as if afraid that if she hesitated for even a moment, the spell between you might break.

Her touch was electric, sending shivers across your skin as she pushed your hands higher. You could feel her body heat through the thin fabric of her shirt, the intensity of her need almost overwhelming. Her fingers skimmed over your chest, her touch both tender and insistent.

As your hands slid up, Natasha’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips as she pressed delicate kisses all over your chest. Each kiss was a gentle caress, an exploration of the very essence of you. Her lips traced over your skin with reverence, as if she were discovering a hidden galaxy, a universe of sensations that she had longed to experience.

Her hands cradled your breasts with an almost worshipful tenderness, as if they were celestial treasures—each touch a silent declaration of her adoration. She took her time, savouring every moment, her fingertips dancing over you with a care that spoke volumes about her feelings. It was as if she were tracing constellations across your skin, mapping out a universe that was uniquely hers and yours.

The contrast between her reverent touch and the raw urgency of the moment made the scene even more intense. She pulled back slightly to look at you, her eyes filled with an earnest plea. Her breath was warm against your skin, her gaze pleading as she waited for you to continue.

With a deep breath, you let your hands explore her body with the same reverence she had shown you. You carefully lifted the dress higher, revealing the soft curve of her skin, the blush of her cheeks, the way her breath hitched with every movement. Natasha's kisses became more fervent, her hands clutching you as if you were the only anchor in a vast sea of emotion.

In that intimate space, it was just the two of you—an entire universe wrapped up in the simple act of undressing. The room, the world outside, all faded away, leaving only the connection between your bodies and the boundless emotions that swirled between you.

Natasha’s fingers curled into your hair, a sharp tug that made your breath catch. Her lips hovered near your ear, her voice barely holding steady. “Please,” she whispered, her words shaky, pleading. “Please, make me feel good. I need this. I need you.”

This wasn’t like her. Natasha, your composed and meticulous physics professor, who always had control of her classroom, now looked so vulnerable. She wasn’t supposed to be this undone. Everything about her, the way she carried herself—polished, thoughtful, deliberate—was now unravelling. And yet, once again, she didn’t care.

Her forehead pressed against yours, her grip tightening in your hair. Her breathing was laboured, and the words that escaped her lips were soaked in desperation. “I just… I want to be enough for you,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I want you to want me, to be proud of me.”

This wasn’t the confident professor you’d come to know. Natasha, so careful and in control of everything in her life, was now asking, begging for reassurance. It wasn’t just about desire—it was about being wanted, being worth the risk. She was scared, terrified even, that you wouldn’t see her the same way she saw you. That maybe this was something fleeting for you, something you could walk away from while she’d lose everything.

Her grip on you tightened. The way she repeated “please” over and over made your heart ache. She was so scared of not being enough, of not measuring up to whatever pedestal she thought you had put her on. And deep down, you knew she didn’t need to worry. You would choose her over anything.

Gently, you cupped her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tear that slipped from her eye. “You’re already more than enough, Natasha. I would risk everything for you. You know that.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into your touch, her breathing hitching. It was as though your words had unlocked something fragile inside her, something she had been holding onto for far too long. For the first time, you could see the weight of the fear and uncertainty she’d carried, the fear that she wasn’t worthy of this.

“Please,” she whispered again, this time softer, her voice trembling. “Please, make me yours. I need to feel like I’m enough for you.”

Her hands slid down your back, her touch tentative, hesitant, like she was unsure whether she deserved this moment. But she did. She deserved it more than anyone else.

In that instant, you could feel the depth of her need, her longing not just for physical connection but for the reassurance that she was enough, that she didn’t have to be perfect or in control to be loved by you. She wanted to let go, to give herself fully, and she needed you to guide her there.

Her vulnerability was raw and real, and in this moment, she was yours completely—stripped bare emotionally, more open than she had ever been. You knew then that you had her trust, her heart.

Natasha should have been nervous about where she was, the risks it posed to both of you, but instead, she felt enveloped in a warmth that only you could give her. The building was empty, but even if it wasn’t, she didn’t care.

Guided by Natasha’s hands, you slowly sank to your knees, the weight of the moment thick in the air between you. Your eyes stayed locked on hers, searching for any sign that she might want to stop, that this was too much, too fast. But all you saw was trust—raw, vulnerable trust, like she was giving you a part of herself no one else had ever seen.

The vulnerability in her eyes only heightened your need to make sure she felt safe, to reaffirm that she had control even as she was letting go. Your hands reached for the hem of her dress—the sleek, black number she had worn that night in class, the same one she wore when she looked untouchable, unshakable. You hiked it up slowly, deliberately, the fabric slipping through your fingers like silk, revealing more of her bare skin.

Natasha’s breath hitched as you ran your hands up her thighs, feeling the heat radiating from her body. You could feel the tension in her muscles, the way her legs trembled slightly under your touch, not just from desire but from the emotional weight of what was happening between you. She wanted this, but more than that, she needed this—to be seen, to be wanted, to be adored, stripped of all the defences she’d spent so long building up.

You pressed a soft kiss against her thigh, your fingers tracing patterns up and down her skin, feeling her shudder beneath you. With each touch, each kiss, you could feel her letting go a little more, surrendering herself to the moment, to you. Her hands threaded through your hair again, but this time the tug wasn’t urgent—it was grounding, a silent request for reassurance, for connection.

Looking up at her, you whispered, "Are you okay with this, Natasha?" The question lingered in the air, but it was necessary, and you wouldn’t move forward without hearing her answer.

Her gaze met yours, her eyes softened by the vulnerability she was allowing herself to feel. She nodded, her lips parting as she whispered back, "Yes. I’m okay. I want this... I want you."

Your heart swelled at her words, at the trust she was placing in you.

You pressed gentle kisses against Natasha’s thighs, each one slower, more deliberate than the last. Her skin was warm under your lips, and the slight tremor in her legs didn’t go unnoticed. You were attuned to every detail—her breathing, the way her fingers tightened and loosened in your hair, the soft, barely audible sounds that escaped her lips as you kissed your way higher.

Despite the growing ache between your own legs, a steady pulse of need that had been building from the moment you had locked eyes, you focused on her. This wasn’t just about desire. It was about trust, about showing her that this—what was happening between you—wasn't just a fleeting moment. You wanted her to feel worthy, to feel adored and cared for, not like she was some fleeting impulse or a fantasy you would walk away from once it was over.

You wanted her to know that you weren’t going anywhere.

Your lips moved higher, brushing just above her knees, and then along the sensitive skin at the top of her thighs. You could hear her breath hitch as you got closer to her core, the anticipation tightening in the air. You paused, pressing a soft kiss just above her panties, teasing but gentle, taking your time to savour the moment, making sure Natasha knew you were fully present for her.

Your hands slid around to the back of her thighs, gripping softly as you kissed her through the delicate fabric of her panties. The sound she made—half a sigh, half a moan—tugged at your heart, and you pressed harder, letting your tongue trace the dampness growing against the lace.

Natasha’s fingers gripped your hair more firmly, a silent plea for more, but you stayed steady, slow, ensuring that every touch was careful, deliberate. She needed to feel safe, to feel cherished, before you let your own needs take over. You wanted to show her that this wasn’t just physical—it was so much more.

As your hands gently tugged the waistband of her panties down, Natasha's breath came in shallow bursts. You kissed her hips, then her pelvis, before finally brushing your lips against her core. She gasped, and her legs instinctively parted wider to give you more room. The heat between her legs was intoxicating, but you didn’t rush.

With a slow, careful movement, you licked her, softly at first, feeling her body react to the touch. Her hips shifted, seeking more, but you kept your pace tender and intentional. Your tongue explored her slowly, taking in the taste of her, feeling the way her body responded to you—her quiet gasps, the way her fingers tightened their hold in your hair, her thighs trembling slightly under your hands.

Despite your own body screaming for release, you didn’t let that overpower the moment. This was for Natasha. You wanted her to feel good, to feel everything she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for so long. You wanted her to understand that she could trust you with this—trust you with herself.

You focused on every sound she made, adjusting your movements based on the way her body responded. When her breath hitched, you applied more pressure, your tongue flicking against her more insistently, but still not rushing. You could feel her unravelling beneath you, the tension in her body slowly giving way to pleasure.

Her legs wrapped tighter around your head, pulling you closer, and you didn’t resist. The sensation of her pressed against your mouth, her need so palpable, only fueled your determination to make her feel good. Her breaths were becoming more erratic, the moans she was trying to suppress growing louder.

"Please," she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible above the sound of her own gasps. "Please… don’t stop."

You didn’t. You let yourself go deeper, licking and sucking at her, increasing the intensity as her hips began to move in rhythm with you. Her fingers were tugging harder at your hair now, a frantic edge to her movements, but you didn’t let go of the tenderness. Even as the intensity built, you wanted her to feel how much this meant—to both of you. That you weren’t going to turn away or leave her.

Natasha’s breathing was ragged now, her body tightening with the approach of her climax, and you could feel her surrendering fully to the moment, to you. And that—knowing she trusted you enough to let go completely—was more satisfying than anything else.

With one last flick of your tongue, Natasha’s body tensed, and she cried out softly, her thighs trembling as waves of pleasure washed over her. You didn’t pull away immediately, continuing to kiss and soothe her through her release, letting her ride out every last tremor.

When her body finally relaxed, her breathing still uneven, you pressed a gentle kiss against her thigh before looking up at her. Natasha’s eyes were glazed, her expression softened by exhaustion and satisfaction. You reached up, taking her hands in yours again, squeezing them gently to remind her—this was real, and you were still here.

"You okay?" you whispered, your voice soft, filled with the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Natasha nodded, her lips curving into a small, tired smile, her fingers still tangled in your hair. "Yeah," she whispered back, her voice shaky but content. "I’m more than okay."

She glanced down at you, still kneeling before her, and her face flushed red. Her heart raced, not from fear, but from a sense of vulnerability she’d never allowed herself to feel before. Her eyes roamed over your body, lingering on the curve of your jaw, the softness in your gaze. That contrast—the way you held all the control yet treated her with such care—it was intoxicating. She bit her lip, her chest swelling with emotions she didn’t quite know how to express. For the first time, she felt seen, cherished, and safe, even in a situation that should have felt anything but.

A small smirk tugged at her lips as she gently pressed her palm against the bulge in your boxers. Your reaction was immediate—your body tensed slightly, a soft groan escaping your lips as the wet patch of precum dampened her hand. She rubbed you a little harder, enjoying the way your breath hitched with each motion. The control was shifting, and she revelled in it, taking her time as she palmed you through the thin fabric.

Your hips bucked slightly in response, the pleasure building quickly, but just as you felt yourself nearing the edge, Natasha pulled her hand away. A quiet, frustrated groan left your throat, but there was no impatience in your eyes. You stayed gentle, your hand reaching up to tangle in her hair, tugging softly as you guided her downward.

Natasha’s body complied, and she sank to her knees, her eyes flickering up to meet yours as she settled between your legs. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of your boxers, pulling them down with a slow, deliberate motion, exposing your hardened length. Her hand wrapped

around you, the warmth of her touch sending a shiver down your spine. She started slow, her strokes gentle but firm, building up the tension with a skilled precision that made your knees weak.

Each pump of her hand was designed to drive you higher, her touch alternating between feather-light and tight enough to have you gasping. You could see the small smirk still lingering on her lips, the way her cheeks flushed with a deep crimson, and it only fueled the fire inside you.

Her hand moved faster, and you gritted your teeth, trying to hold back the inevitable release, but it was too much. Natasha had you right where she wanted you, and she knew it. The pressure built inside you like a dam about to break, and just as the wave crested, you tugged her hair a little harder, pulling her face closer to your body as you came.

Your release spilled over her face, thick and hot, streaking her cheeks and lips like stars spreading across a midnight sky. It was a mess, but in the mess, there was beauty—something raw, visceral. The universe had always been a chaotic, unpredictable expanse, but in that moment, Natasha wore it on her skin. She was your universe, painted in a way that symbolised everything wild and untamed that existed between you.

Her breaths were heavy, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt the warmth of you settle on her skin. There was a softness in her expression, even as she wiped the edge of her mouth with the back of her hand. And you…you stood there, still panting, gazing down at her with a reverence that went beyond the physical. She had laid herself bare, given herself fully to you, and in return, you had shared something far deeper than lust.

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours. She smiled, a mixture of mischief and something tender playing across her lips as she wiped a bit more from her cheek, still blushing. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation in her gaze—just the raw, undeniable connection between you both, as unshakable as the stars scattered across a vast sky.

Natasha's hand wrapped around your still half-erect shaft, her touch soft but purposeful as she began to pump you once again. The sensation shot through you, making you groan, the sound deep and raw in your throat. Your fingers, which had been gripping her hair tightly, loosened their hold, trailing down to softly cradle her cheeks. Her skin was warm beneath your palms, her flushed face a stark contrast to the cool air in the room.

She looked up at you, a playful, mischievous glint in her eyes, as if daring you to see how much further she could take you. With your hands still holding her face, her lips parted, and she opened her mouth, slowly taking you in. The sensation of her mouth wrapping around you, warm and wet, was like being pulled into the gravity of a star, the intensity almost overwhelming.

Natasha’s mouth moved with deliberate slowness, her tongue pressing flat against you as she took more of you in, inch by inch. You could feel every flicker of her tongue, every slight shift in pressure as her mouth tightened around you, pulling you deeper into her orbit. Her hands gripped your thighs, steadying herself as she hollowed her cheeks, the heat of her breath seeping into your skin, warming you from the inside out.

It was like being caught between two worlds—one of gentleness, where her every touch was soft and careful, and another of fire, where the raw need she had for you crackled with intensity. You felt it in the way she moved, in the way her lips wrapped around you with precision, and in the quiet hunger that radiated from her. It wasn’t just about lust anymore—it was about trust, about the connection that had been building between the two of you for so long, and now, like the universe itself, it was expanding, becoming something deeper, something untouchable.

Each slow, purposeful motion of her mouth sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. You couldn’t help but groan again, your breath hitching as you felt the pressure building once more. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, the heat in them undeniable, as if she was silently communicating her own need to make you feel just as exposed, just as vulnerable as she had felt moments before.

The room around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you, suspended in this moment—her mouth on you, your hands gently holding her face, and the sensation that seemed to stretch out into eternity.

Natasha began to take you deeper, her movements growing more deliberate and intense as her mouth slid down your length. The wet warmth of her lips surrounded you, and you couldn’t hold back the deep, guttural groan that escaped from your chest. Each time she lowered her head, the sensation grew sharper, her tongue flicking and teasing, heightening your arousal with every motion.

As she pushed herself further down, a sudden gag escaped her, the tightness around you momentarily breaking your control. Instinctively, your hands gripped her head, your hips bucking forward, pressing her down harder onto your cock. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut, her throat constricting as she tried to adjust to your deeper thrusts, her own need and willingness written on her expression. The way she surrendered to your touch, her hands clutching your thighs, sent a jolt of raw desire through you, and you couldn’t stop your hips from moving on their own.

You released inside her mouth with a powerful groan, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Natasha stayed still, her mouth still wrapped around you, catching every drop. Your mind swam in the aftermath, the weight of the moment heavy around you, pulling you back to reality. As your eyes finally cleared, you saw the tears streaming down her cheeks, her lips still wrapped around your sensitive cock as she continued to suck, more tenderly now.

For a moment, worry flared in your chest, but she hummed softly around you, her hands gently caressing your legs, letting you know she was okay. It wasn’t pain—it was something else entirely. Her soft, rhythmic movements, the gentle suction, and the sound of her contentment vibrated through you. The tears weren't ones of discomfort, but something deeper—relief, happiness, a kind of release that matched the intensity of what you both had shared.

You ran your fingers through her hair, murmuring softly to her, "Are you okay? You're safe, Natasha." She hummed again, reassuring you with the vibrations from her throat, her lips curving ever so slightly against your skin, a sign of her quiet joy.

But then, you felt it again—that mischievous glint flashing in her eyes as she gave one more sharp suck, her tongue swirling expertly around your sensitive tip, pushing you to the brink of overstimulation. The sudden intensity made you gasp, and before you could recover, she pulled back, a thin string of saliva and your release still connecting her lips to your cock. The playful smirk tugged at her lips as she wiped her face with the back of her hand, her breath heavy, her eyes dancing with both satisfaction and hunger.

Then, with a delicate, almost bashful movement, Natasha turned around, leaning forward over the desk. Her dress clung to her curves, the hem still hiked up, and she bent over just enough to leave no question about what she wanted. She looked over her shoulder at you, her expression shifting from tentative sweetness to something more daring, though still tinged with a vulnerability that tugged at your heart. Her eyes, though, betrayed her—the sheer need burning there, her desire clear as day.

With a small smile that could only be described as cute, she spoke without words, her body doing the asking. There was an unspoken invitation in her posture, and despite the vulnerability she showed, there was also a trust between you now that felt unbreakable.

You couldn’t help but smile as you approached Natasha, your hands sliding over her soft backside before trailing up her back, fingers ghosting over the fabric of her dress. The way she trembled beneath your touch, her body so attuned to your movements, made your heart race. As you moved closer, your hand brushed over the slick coating her inner thighs, and it told you everything you needed to know—she was ready, aching for you.

With slow, deliberate care, you guided yourself to her entrance, gently pushing inside. Natasha let out a sharp gasp, her body welcoming you with almost no resistance, her slick warmth enveloping you. Her walls fluttered and clenched around you, adjusting to your length and girth, pulling you in deeper with every inch. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect balance of tightness and softness, and you could feel her heartbeat in sync with yours, every pulse of her body crying out for more.

As you buried yourself inside her, Natasha’s moans grew louder, unrestrained, filling the quiet classroom with sounds that felt like music to your ears. Her usual control had vanished, leaving her raw and exposed, her voice trembling with need as she called out your name. Each thrust, slow but firm, drew a new sound from her lips, her body arching beneath you as she struggled to hold onto the desk for support.

The way she moaned for you now, louder, uninhibited, sent shivers down your spine. It wasn’t just the pleasure that drove her—it was the trust, the connection, the vulnerability she had offered you in this moment. You leaned down, your breath hot against her ear as you whispered softly, "You sound so beautiful, Natasha."

Her only response was a broken, desperate moan, her head dropping forward as you moved within her. The walls of the room seemed to close in, making the world smaller, more intimate, as if it was only the two of you and the sensation that swirled between you. Each thrust seemed to melt away another layer of resistance, and Natasha met you with every movement, her hips rocking back to match your rhythm, her moans growing more frenzied as the intensity built.

Her body was a symphony of sensations, her sounds, her movements, the way she clenched around you driving you to the brink of your own control. Still, you remained gentle, each motion filled with purpose, ensuring she felt every bit of the love, trust, and pleasure you wanted to give her.

“Harder, please… more,” Natasha’s voice came out in a breathless plea, her desperation cutting through the heavy air. The need in her tone left no doubt in your mind; she wanted you to let go, to give her everything. You smiled softly, your slow and deliberate thrusts transitioning into something rougher, more intense.

Each movement brought a new sound from her lips—a mix of moans, gasps, and whimpers that drove you to the edge of control. You could feel her body tightening around you, the slick warmth of her drawing you deeper, her hips pressing back in perfect rhythm with each thrust. Her hands gripped the desk hard enough to turn her knuckles white, as if she needed to hold onto something solid amidst the storm of pleasure crashing through her.

You gave her what she wanted, your pace picking up, the gentle strokes turning into something rougher. Each thrust was harder, your hips slamming into hers as the intensity between you mounted. The sounds coming from between your bodies—skin meeting skin, the wetness of her arousal—filled the room, combining with her increasingly frantic moans. Every whimper, every desperate noise that fell from her lips only pushed you to move faster, harder, deeper.

Natasha’s voice was growing ragged, her pleas becoming a chant, “More… harder… please,” her tone dripping with need. You obliged, giving her everything she asked for, pounding into her with abandon. Her walls clenched tighter around you with each thrust, her body trembling as she neared the edge, her moans becoming louder, more frantic.

The sight of her—the way her body surrendered beneath you, the sounds of her pleasure—was driving you wild. You could feel yourself nearing your own breaking point, but this moment wasn’t just about you. It was about her, about making her feel as desired, as safe, and as loved as she deserved.

Natasha’s body bucked against you, her voice rising with each thrust, her moans spilling into the air like a symphony of raw emotion. The intensity of it all, the connection, the overwhelming pleasure, it was almost too much, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop.

You didn’t stop even as Natasha’s body quaked beneath you, her release crashing over her like a tidal wave, every nerve ending igniting in pure ecstasy. With a firm grip on her hair, you pulled back gently, a primal instinct guiding your actions. The sharp gasp that escaped her lips sent a thrill coursing through you, an electric reminder of the connection you shared. Tears streamed down her cheeks, reflections of the intensity of her pleasure, and the sight of her vulnerability only stoked the fire deep within you.

“Please… don’t stop,” she breathed, her voice trembling with desperation and longing. “I need you—everything.”

You felt her walls tighten around you, each clench pulling you deeper into the bliss of the moment. Every thrust became more urgent, more fervent, as you moved in perfect sync with her. Her hips met yours in a relentless rhythm, the sounds of your bodies colliding filling the air—a raw symphony of skin against skin, punctuated by her soft cries and your deep, primal grunts.

“Stay inside me,” she gasped, urgency lacing her tone like a sweet poison. “I want to feel you.”

Obeying her plea, you surrendered to the pressure that had built within you, a wave of heat surging as your release burst forth, filling her completely. The sensation was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and possession that pushed Natasha over the edge once more. You felt her body tremble as she milked you dry, every pulse and contraction sending shockwaves through both of you. The warmth of your climax mingled with hers, slick and overwhelming, trickling down to the back of her thighs and pooling against your own.

As your bodies connected in this beautiful aftermath, you slowed your movements, wanting to savour every moment. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the two of you, entwined in an intimate cocoon of warmth and intimacy. Her breath came in soft, ragged gasps, and you could see the remnants of pleasure flickering in her eyes, a mix of satisfaction and lingering desire.

You shifted your hands from her hair, cradling her waist, grounding her as the waves of pleasure began to recede. With each slow thrust, you relished the way she responded, her body trembling beneath you, as if she was still lost in the echoes of her release. You leaned down, brushing your lips softly against her forehead, whispering sweet reassurances that enveloped her like a gentle embrace.

“Natasha…” you murmured, your voice low and filled with admiration. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, a shy smile breaking through the haze of bliss.

She looked up at you, her gaze filled with warmth and something deeper, a connection that transcended the physical. “I never knew it could be like this,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it resonated with profound sincerity.

In that moment, you knew that this wasn’t just about desire; it was about trust, intimacy, and a bond that felt unbreakable. You both lay there, intertwined, sharing the warmth of your bodies and the lingering aftermath of your shared ecstasy, each heartbeat echoing the promise of what was still to come.

As the world slowly came back into focus around you, you could feel Natasha’s breath steadying, a calm settling over both of you. You caressed her cheek, wiping away the tears of pleasure, feeling an overwhelming sense of tenderness for the woman before you. With each soft kiss and gentle touch, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautifully complicated.

a/n- whew, that was a ride. thank you so much for your request, anon, i loved writing it, and although i suppose it isn't exactly what you had in mind, i hope you still liked it! for all of you who keep supporting me as i slowly figure out how to use this platform again, thank you so much. all reblogs and comments are appreciated! the love on my last fic had me overwhelmed x

[kai-uh-arcadian]

Project: Aeri

synopsis: you get paired with the campus’ mean girl Aeri Uchinaga to work on a semester long project together

cw: cursing, tension, alcohol, rich/mean girl aeri, angst (?) idk, it's barely suggestive near the end, barely proofread, college au! reader runs track and aeri is a cheerleader but it really doesn’t pertain to the plot too much! also I don't think i used any pronouns for the reader :D

word count: 6.1k

notes!! hi (: this was fun so fun to write!! I loveeee the dynamic between reader and aeri hehe

Lmk how you feel about this or if you'd just like to chat!

read part two here!!!

You found yourself with a decent amount of time, arriving at your lecture hall with a good 15 minutes to spare. When you got through the door, your eyes looked through the room, scanning for the perfect seat, preferably in the back.

A fair number of students had claimed their spots but thankfully, the seat you had set your sights on remained empty. With a soft plop, you settled into your seat, ready for your last first class ever! (finally)

You mindlessly scrolled through instagram before a girl walked past you in the aisle trying to get to a seat. A snobby “oops” escaped her lips as her designer leather purse missed your head by a hair. Her purse may have missed you but her excessive amount of perfume did not.

You slumped back in your seat, stifling your frustration just as the professor began setting up her laptop, fumbling with the projector. But all your irritation fizzled out the moment you caught sight of the girl again, now seated a few seats from you. A pretty familiar face.

You sighed, the earlier instance clicking in your head after recognizing who it was.

Aeri Uchinaga.

Of course.

The name itself was practically legendary around campus. Aeri or better known as Giselle to her inner circle—was sort of everyone’s campus celebrity as she was effortlessly popular and untouchably cool. She was the girl everyone wanted to befriend, date, or at least be seen with. Aeri was on the cheer squad and she was the one who had it all—beauty, charm, and an air of superiority that made your skin crawl. 

It’s not like you disliked her per se, but it was her superiority complex that irked the living shit out of you. It bothered you how much of a bitch she was.

The professor, blissfully unaware of your internal groaning, launched into a painfully slow breakdown of the syllabus. You tried to pay attention, but your mind drifted as she agonizingly detailed each project and the writing part of it. Luckily, no exams—just two parts of a project to do for the whole semester.  

How is this an hour and fifteen minutes you thought as you sighed, slumping back into your seat

“So, throughout my years of teaching I’ve done these partner projects. I have asked for feedback each year. A lot of my students expressed that the most difficult part of the semester project was initially finding a partner. I know you’re all adults but this is a great way to make friends you normally wouldn’t speak to! So, I’ve already randomly assigned you partners! When I call your name can you please raise your hand and find your partner” She beamed at her great idea

Honestly she did have a point, and it was less work/anxiety trying to find a partner 

She listed pairs after pairs until she said name making your ears perk up 

“Y/n..  L/n !” Her eyes scanned the room for you

You raised your hand from way back and did a small wave paired with a bright smile

“Oh! Hi- and your partner is... Aeri Uchinaga!” Her eyes scanned the room again looked for a raised hand 

Oh of course

She didn’t scan long as the girl that shuffled passed you earlier rose her hand with a fake smile

Despite Aeri’s complex, it wasn’t hard to see why people gravitated towards her. Her hair was in a perfect ponytail and you caught a glimpse of a smile that could disarm anyone. Her demeanor was effortlessly charming and her presence dominated each and any room she was in. 

She was a bit intimidating, you had to admit

And you? Well, you were a runner. Literally. Your life kinda revolved around those early morning track practices and late-night study sessions. The university’s track team didn’t exactly have the same hype as the football team, basketball team or the cheer squad that went with them. 

But you didn’t mind, you were perfectly content with not being in the spotlight and pretty happy with the (very) small fan group you had attracted throughout your four years.

You just didn’t crave attention the way Aeri seemed to

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. Out of all the people in your large lecture, it had to be her.

You tried to play it off, extending an olive branch to her through a kind smile–Aeri caught your eye again, her smile dropping the second the professor looked away. She didn’t seem any more thrilled about the arrangement than you were– but at least you tried to fake it! You could practically hear her thoughts: Great, stuck with you.

You slumped back into your seat, inwardly groaning.

What. A. Bitch. 

Class ended with the usual shuffle of students packing up their belongings, but you remained in your seat, feeling the weight of the project announcement settle heavily in your chest. The thought of working with the Aeri Uchinaga was... daunting, to say the least. For most people, partnering with her for an entire semester would be a dream come true, but you couldn’t care less about her social status or the attention she commanded. Her world of endless appearances and surface-level bullshit wasn’t one you ever wanted to step into.

As you stood up, slinging your bag over your shoulder, a voice stopped you.

"Hey."

You turned to see Aeri making her way down the aisle toward you, her steps purposeful, confidence radiating from her like always. “Let me have your number,” she said sharply. It wasn’t a request but more of a command.

You hesitated, offering a tentative way out. “I mean, I can just handle the project myself and put your name on it. You don’t seem too excited about working together.”

Aeri paused just a few feet away, her expression unreadable but her eyes flashed a flicker of consideration. “If this was any other class, I’d let you do it and wouldn’t think twice,” she replied, her voice clipped. “But my dad says I actually need to pass this one. So, no, I can’t coast through.”

The bluntness in her words caught you off guard. You weren’t sure whether to feel relieved or even more nervous. You sighed softly, “I see.”

Aeri extended her hand without a word, and you typed in your number. She glanced at it briefly, then slid her phone into her bag, her expression never really changing.

"Thanks," she said, the word sounding more like an obligation than gratitude. She muttered a quick  “I’ll text you.” And without even waiting for a response, she walked off right past you, already scrolling through her phone as if you or your interaction had barely registered.

You stood there for a moment, watching her retreating figure, your thoughts swirling. 

What a fucking bitch. 

The reality slowly settled in as you made your way out of the lecture hall...

You’d be spending more time with her than you ever imagined nor cared for.

A few days passed, and true to her word, you got a text from a number:

"It’s Aeri. Come over to my place at 6. We’ll start on the project then." With an address attached.

No pleasantries, no extra fluff. It was straightforward—just like her.

You weren’t sure what you expected when you showed up at her apartment, but it definitely wasn’t this. The building itself was pristine, the type of place you’d expect from someone who never had to worry about rent money. The lobby alone screamed "daddy’s money," with its sleek and modern decor.

When you reached Aeri’s door, she greeted you with a casual nod, stepping aside to let you in. “Come on, let’s get started.”

Her apartment was just as fancy as you imagined. Floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the room with natural light, and sleek designer furniture was perfectly arranged, like something out of a magazine. It wasn’t just nice—it was borderline intimidating. You couldn’t help but feel out of place in your university hoodie and sweatpants.

“Nice place,” you muttered as you took your shoes off by the door.

“Thanks,” Aeri replied nonchalantly, already making her way to a small table where her laptop was open and ready. “Let’s try to knock out the outline for the project tonight.”

The evening went smoother than you’d initially imagined it to go, and to your surprise, Aeri was focused and typing away at her laptop. She was of course still cold, only speaking to you about the project and there was plenty of chilling silence.

Three weeks had already passed since the project began and you’re already at your wits end with her. You have made every effort fucking possible to be nice to Aeri. Every time you went over to her apartment you tried your hardest to alleviate the awkward silence. You’d ask about her day, how the cheer team was doing, or what her plans for the weekend were. But most of the time, you were met with a huff, a roll of the eyes, or a dismissive answer that felt like she couldn’t care less(she couldn’t). Still, you pushed through and your kind heart gave Aeri the benefit of the doubt.

But today was different.

You’ve had a long day. After leaving Aeri’s apartment last night at 1AM, you were up again by 5AM to get ready for your track meet. You had planned to sleep on the bus ride to the meet, but you remembered a paper you still needed to finish for another class, so instead of sleeping, you spent the entire ride hunched over your laptop, working.

The meet itself was grueling. You competed in four different events, your body screaming for rest by the end of it. What stung the most was your individual race—the one you were supposed to win. You lost by 0.5 seconds. It was frustrating knowing how much time and effort you had poured into preparing for this moment, only to fall short by the tiniest margin.

By the time you got back to your apartment at 8PM, you were completely drained, both physically and emotionally. You had barely collapsed onto your couch when your phone buzzed.

It was Aeri.

Her message had a cold urgency that made your eye twitch. 

"You done yet? Come over already. You said you’d be done by 7:30. I have something to do at 11."

You thought about ignoring it. You thought about telling her off right then and there. But instead, you sighed, had a quick shower, changed into something more comfortable, and made your way to her place, frustration bubbling beneath your surface.

When you finally arrived at her apartment, exhausted and frustrated, Aeri barely looked up from her phone while giggling at something. 

“So, I did the third section of part two today. Look over it,  kay’? ” Not even a greeting nor eye-contact. At this point you were used to it but today it rubbed you the complete wrong way.

You swallowed it, you couldn’t help but try with her. “Yeah.. I can do that” You tried to excuse her behavior with “that’s just how she is”

For the first few minutes, you worked in silence, one-sided tension from your end was building in the air around you like a heavy cloud.

“So.. how was your day today?” You politely asked while making some grammatical adjustments to her part

“Good.”

“Oh good, did you do anything?” Trying to lead with a better question this time

“No.” 

“Well, I had a track meet today and Aeri!  it was so–” You excitedly began your anecdote with a chuckle, in hopes of sharing a story for conversation’s sake.

“Cool.” She interrupted, not even looking up from her laptop 

Your smile instantly dropped and you tried your best to keep everything in but after everything you had been through today along with these few weeks, something inside you finally snapped.

You shut your laptop harder than you meant to and looked up at her, your voice was tight with frustration. “Can you at least try to pretend to enjoy my company?”

Aeri glanced up, her eyes widening slightly surprised at your tone. “Excuse me?” her eyebrow raising in defense

“I’ve been nothing but nice to you for weeks,” you continued, your voice rising with each word. “I ask about your day, your stupid ass cheer team, and all I get is a roll of your eyes or some half-assed response. I’m really trying here, but it’s like fucking pulling teeth to have a simple ass conversation with you.”

Aeri blinked, clearly not expecting this 'out-of-character' outburst. “What? I– ”

You cut her off, your emotions finally spilling over “Please don’t ‘what’ me Aeri,” tears of frustration or exhaustion glistened in your eyes, “You think this is how I want to be spending MY Saturday night? You think this is how I want to spend each or every other day? I ALSO don’t want to be here. I’m so fucking tired Aeri but here I am because YOU wanted me here to work on this stupid fucking project even though I told you I had a meet today. Or did you just not care to remember?” You stood up, placing your laptop in your bag with a sharp motion. “You know what? We don’t even have to do this together. You can just text me if you have any questions, and I’ll do the same. We shouldn’t waste more of each other’s time”

Aeri’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. She just stared at you, stunned, as you turned on your heel and walked out of her apartment without looking back. This was the first time someone had spoken up against the ‘untouchable’  Aeri Uchinaga.

Aeri’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. She couldn’t quite place a reason as to why she felt like she wanted to cry. Maybe she enjoyed the idea of being around someone so kind and genuine as you.

For the next week and a half, you didn’t hear from Aeri. You worked on the project alone, silently making adjustments and adding content without bothering to ask for her input. She hadn’t reached out but she did notice your silent additions while you genuinely couldn’t care. You were just frustrated because you really thought she wasn’t how she seemed.

But then, after days of silence, your phone buzzed with a text from her:

“Can you come over Y/n?” 

“Please?”

You stared at the message for a long moment, debating whether to go or not. But something about the way she said “please” tugged at you. Reluctantly, you agreed.

“Omw”

When you arrived at her apartment, the energy between you was completely different from before. Aeri opened the door, her usual confidence replaced with something more.. Timid?  She stepped aside to let you in, her eyes, for once, weren’t glued to her phone and onto yours.

The silence between you was thick, uncomfortable. Normally, you would have made an effort to break it, but this time, you remained cold.

“Hey so, how was your day?” She asked

After a few moments, you spoke up

“I think we should just get this section done and over with” you said flatly, settling onto the table without even glancing in her direction.

Aeri hesitated, biting her lip as she sat beside you. For once, she didn’t have her usual snarky remarks or her dismissive scoffs. She just quietly opened her laptop and got to work. The silence between you felt suffocating. Every now and then, you’d catch Aeri glancing at you from the corner of her eye, her usual sharp confidence was completely absent. She seemed uncomfortable, fidgeting more than usual as she worked.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Aeri broke the silence.

“Y/n...” she started, her voice soft and hesitant. You didn’t look up, keeping your focus on your laptop.

“I... I’m sorry,” she said, barely above a whisper. 

That statement caught your attention. You slowly lifted your eyes from the screen, glancing at her. She wasn’t looking at you, her gaze fixed on her hands as she fidgeted with her perfectly done acrylic nails.

“I don’t think I’m used to people spending time with me just because they want to,” she continued, her voice quieter than you’d ever heard before. “Most people either want something from me or whatever. I didn’t know how to handle it when you actually tried to get to know me. And I guess I pushed you away because of that.”

She sighed, her fingers tracing the edge of the table as her words lingered in the air. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I just... didn’t know what to do with someone who cared.”

You stared at her for a moment, her words sinking in. Part of you had expected her to never acknowledge the way she’d been treating you, but now that she had, you couldn’t help but soften. Her vulnerability felt real, and it was clear she wasn’t used to letting people see this side of her.

A small, shy smile crept onto your face as you leaned back slightly. “Did you miss my attention or something?” you teased lightly, hoping to ease the tension.

Aeri finally looked up, rolling her eyes playfully as they met yours. “You know, I actually did, you idiot,” she quipped back, a small smirk tugging at her lips. But as she continued, her voice grew softer, more serious. “I honestly didn’t think I would... or that I would care, but when you stopped trying…” She paused, her tone becoming more vulnerable. “I noticed.. or that I realized I actually missed you... missed having someone who wanted to be around me as much as I wanted to be around them.”

Her words settled between you, and in that moment, you realized something. The cold, distant facade Aeri had been putting up wasn’t about you at all—it was about her. She had been pushing you away because that’s what she was used to. That’s how she protected herself from getting hurt.

“You had some way of showing that” You let out a small chuckle with a soft sigh. The anger you’d been holding onto for the past week and a half slowly melting away. “You could’ve just said that earlier ya know?” you replied gently, your voice free of the coldness it had held before.

She offered you a small but genuine, almost shy smile, and for the first time, it felt like the walls between you were starting to come down. 

“I’m sorry too, Aeri,” you added, offering her your goofy smile. The air felt lighter now, and for the first time in weeks, you both seemed to be on the same page.

She really did have a smile that could disarm anyone. 

Another three weeks had passed, and after that night, you found yourself spending more and more time with Aeri. At first, it was just to work on the project, but as the days went by, things slowly began to shift. You learned to navigate her moods, her sarcasm, and even her occasional backhanded compliments. To your surprise, Aeri started to let go of her ‘mean-girl’ persona.

She no longer seemed as guarded with you, and the more time you spent together, the more she let you see sides of her that weren’t wrapped up in the image of being the perfect cheerleader or the richest girl on campus.

It wasn’t until one evening that everything truly changed.

You were back at her apartment for what was supposed to be one of your final work sessions before the project deadline. As usual (now), Aeri was focused for most of the evening yet still actively conversing, but as the hours ticked by, you noticed her energy faltering.

“Ahh~ fuck! We’ve been at this for way too long,” she finally said, closing her laptop with a sigh. 

“Let’s take a break.”

You leaned back in your chair, “Thank god you said that,”  stretching your arms above your head. ”I’m starting to lose it too”

Aeri stood and walked to her kitchen, rummaging through her fridge before pulling out a couple of drinks. “Wine or White Claws?” she asked, holding them up with a smirk. “I thinkkk~ we deserve a little something for surviving this long.”

You hesitated, glancing between the two options. “Uhh~ wines too classy for the occasion,” you said with a laugh, completely taken aback at her sudden behavior

“White Claw it is,” she said, tossing one to you before cracking open her own. She plopped down beside you with a smirk. “To surviving this stupid project,” she said, raising her can in a mock toast.

“To surviving, Ms. Uchinaga,” you echoed, tapping your drink against hers.

You took a sip, the cold fizz of the seltzer hitting your tongue, but your face instinctively scrunched up at the taste.

Aeri noticed and burst into laughter. “Not a fan, Y/n?”

“It’s free, so I can’t really complain,” you replied with a grin. “But if I’m being honest, I prefer beer.”

“Ew! Beer? Really?” she cringed playfully, shaking her head. “It’s like carbonated piss!”

“Oh, so you know what piss tastes like? Weirdo,” you teased without missing a beat. 

Aeri's mouth dropped open in mock offense, and she gave you a playful shove. “Shut the fuck up you’re soo annoying!” 

You both laughed, the tension that had lingered for so long between the two of you seemed to dissipate, replaced by something softer.

You saw a side of Aeri that you hadn’t seen before—one that wasn’t wearing her usual cold mask. For once, she was real. Laughing about stupid things, opening up about her dad, venting about her struggles with balancing school and her social life.

Somewhere throughout the conversation, Aeri had absentmindedly turned on a random show in the background, though neither of you paid much attention to it. The drinks kept flowing, and you two lost count after a while, but it didn’t matter. You both found yourselves laughing at god knows what, the sound filling the room. But when the laughter finally died down, the air between you shifted again—heavier with something unsaid yet undeniably present.

Your eyes met hers, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The noise from the TV faded into the background as the silence between you, heavy with something mutually unspoken.

Aeri smiled softly, her guard lowered even more this time. “You’re not as bad as I thought, ya know?”

You laughed nervously, “You’re also not exactly what I expected either, Ms. Uchinaga.”

“Well, who is Ms. Uchinaga to you, hmm~?” she asked, lazily sipping her drink.

You paused, taken aback from the heavy question.

“Well, at first, Ms. Uchinaga was a bit... stuck up and... kind of a bitch,” you teased with a chuckle. But then your tone softened as you continued, “But now, I see someone who's actually really hard-working and driven. She’s not cold—she’s just protective of herself. She’s witty, smart, and honestly? One of the greatest people I've met. I’m really lucky I get the pleasure of knowing her.”

You shrugged, finishing your drink while reaching for another, and Aeri smiled, something soft yet needy flickered in her eyes.

She met your eyes and the moment lingered—just the two of you, sitting in her ridiculously nice apartment, sharing drinks and paired with a conversation that was so.. intimate.

Your held eye contact had so much unspoken tension. Her eyes were basically longing for you.  

As much as you wanted to kiss her,  something held you back. 

Maybe it was the fear of misreading the situation? Or maybe you were both afraid to cross that boundary. 

So, as much as you cherished the soft, tender moment, you let it pass, pushing the thoughts to the back of your mind as you broke eye contact to take a big gulp of your freshly opened drink. 

You paused, glancing at your half-full can before turning your gaze back to Aeri. Her smile lingered as she lazily sipped her drink. 

You felt your heart racing as you decided to push the moment just a bit further. “Well... who is Y/n to you?” you asked, your voice soft but direct. “I just shared who you are to me, Uchinaga”

Aeri blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. Her drink froze halfway to her lips, and she lowered it slowly, her eyes scanning your face as if searching for the right words.

For a moment, she didn’t respond, her expression was contemplative. She placed her drink in her lap and leaned back slightly, her gaze dropping as she fidgeted with the nails again. The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—more like she was deciding how honest she wanted to be.

“Y/n...is” Aeri started, her voice softer than before. “Different.” She glanced up, meeting your eyes, and you could see the hesitation in hers. “Kind. Not like most people I know. You pushed yourself into my life, and you still... stuck around, even when I wasn’t the easiest person to be around.”

She let out a quiet laugh, more at herself than anything. “Honestly, I didn’t get it at first. Like.. Why you kept trying with me? But now... I think I do.” her voice hinted at  knowing something. 

Her fingers traced the edge of her can, her voice quiet but steady. “And you’re patient. And I’m not used to that. You’ve seen sides of me that I don’t let most people see, and I think... I’ve been scared of that.”

You swallowed, her words hanging in the air. “Scared?”

“Yeah... I think so,” she admitted, her voice almost a whisper. “Like I said before, I’m not really used to people sticking around just to get to know me. They’ve always stuck around to use me for some type of gain. But you... you’ve just been here. And I think at first, I was afraid that you’re gonna turn out like everyone else but now I’m scared because I don’t feel the need to push you away”

A confession?

The weight of her words pressed down on you, the vulnerability in her tone echoing in the room. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say, the truth of what she’d just admitted settling between you both. You could feel the walls between you crumbling, and this time, it wasn’t just a fleeting moment—it was real, raw.

You smiled gently, leaning forward just a little. “I’m glad you’re not pushing me away,” you said softly, placing a reassuring hand on her own fidgeting one, your voice steady. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Better not.” Aeri’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, her eyes softening.

Both of your eyes flickered to each other's lips, though the distance between them never closed.

After a few days of wrapping up the project, your mind kept drifting back to that night. The intimate moment between you and Aeri replayed in your thoughts, and the regret of not kissing her gnawed at you. You couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever reach out again, if she even wanted to, or maybe she was waiting for you to reach out? 

But then, as if she had been reading your racing mind, there she was. Full of surprises, like always.

A text from Aeri popped up on your phone unexpectedly

“Y/n! Come to this party tonight (:”

You stared at the message for a moment, a smile creeping onto your face like a fool while your fingers hovered over the screen as you debated your response.

"Where? And why? You miss me too much, Uchinaga? Lol," you typed back, trying to play it cool, though your heart raced as you hit send.

Her reply came almost immediately.

“Sig Chi House! Starts at 9. And duh, I wanna see you there ;)”

Your heart fluttered at the last part, the winky face sending a warm buzz through your chest. You reread the message, biting back a grin, unable to shake the excitement that suddenly pulsed through you.

Aeri Uchinaga what are you doing to me 

Sig Chi was exactly how you remembered it—loud music, a packed crowd, and the heavy smell of liquor and cheap cologne wafting through the air. It didn’t take long to remember why you stopped coming.

As you weaved through the party, you managed to snag a beer off a random table (which you quickly chugged and put back on the table) before spotting her in the kitchen. She was surrounded by a small group of her cheerleader friends that you recognized and one guy you didn’t, all laughing and drinking.

Despite her simple crop top and jeans, she stood out effortlessly. Her hair fell in perfect waves down her back, like a dark waterfall catching the party lights, and for a moment, you couldn’t look away.

Then her eyes landed on you, and for a split second, something flickered in her expression. She quickly excused herself from the group, making her way over to you with two drinks in hand—a solo cup in one and a beer in the other.

"You made it!" she exclaimed, pulling you into a hug, her scent a mix of straight vodka and the sweet perfume you remembered from the first day of class. Her smile was wide and genuine. "I wasn’t sure you’d come, but I saved you a beer."

“Wow, thanks, Aeri,” you said, doing your best to keep your nerves in check as you realized she remembered your favorite drink. “Couldn’t make you suffer without me for too long, right?” you added with a playful smirk.

Aeri laughed, nudging you lightly. "Oh, shut up!” Her eyes sparkled as she spoke. “But I’m glad you came."

She then began going off about something that looked important, but with the noise of the party and the way her lips moved a mile a second, you couldn’t quite catch it. Honestly, you probably just looked like a lovesick puppy, completely entranced by her without even processing a word. Just perfectly content being around her.

“Are you even listening to me?” She tried to say over the music, her eyebrows furrowed

“What are you even saying?” you asked, leaning down to hear her better, the height difference making it harder.

Aeri leaned in closer, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder close to your neck. Her breath was warm against your ear, and the contact sent a shiver down your spine. “Let’s go outside, I can’t hear a fucking thing in here!” she laughed, her voice low. Before you could respond, she wrapped her arm around yours, leading you through the crowded house and out the back door. 

The noise of the party faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in the cool night air. For a moment, it felt like the party was miles away, just the two of you caught in an orbit only you could understand.

“Ah~” Aeri sighed, stretching an arm above her head. “This is sooo much better.”

“I’ll cheers to that,” you sighed, raising your drink slightly.

She leaned in a bit, a playful smile on her face, her voice slightly slurred. “So... you’re not much of a party person, huh?”

You chuckled. “What gave me away?”

Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she laughed softly. “You should’ve seen the look on your face when I saw you inside. You looked so lost,” she teased, then giggled. “It was cute.”

You opened your mouth to say something but something or someone interrupted, causing you both to turn your heads 

The porch door swung open, and the guy you had noticed earlier stepped out. He carried himself with the arrogance of someone used to getting what he wanted, his greasy gaze glued to Aeri like she was the prize of the night.

“Giselle, I didn’t see you run off earlier,” he said, sliding in too close, completely oblivious to your presence.

You saw how Aeri stiffened slightly but forced a smile, clearly not interested in making a scene. “Hi Mark,” she scoffed, her voice cool, though the venom was unmistakable.

Mark leaned in even closer, his arm brushing against Aeri’s, his smirk making your blood boil. You had no right to feel this possessive, but something surged within you at the sight of him invading her space.

“You wanna.. come back to my place after?” His words were extremely slurred, his eyes quickly shot to you  “You’re hot too, you can come if you want,” he added with a smug grin, as if he was doing you both a favor by suggesting it.

Without thinking, you stepped forward, reaching out to gently pull Aeri back toward you. She glanced at you, a flicker of surprise in her eyes before you gave her a look she hadn’t seen from you before. Jealousy and desire.

Aeri raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your boldness. Mark noticed, his cocky smirk faltering.

“She’s already got plans to come to mine, so you can just fuck off” you said, keeping your voice steady even though your heart was pounding.

Aeri, catching onto your energy, stepped closer, her shoulder brushing against yours. She turned to Mark, her tone ice-cold. “I don’t even know why you would ever think to ask me that?” she asked, emphasizing the absurdity of his request, her head tilting slightly as if she couldn’t believe the audacity.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard by Aeri’s cold tone. “Wow chill.. No need to be such a stuck-up bitch,” he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice as he stumbled back. His gaze flicked to you, bitterness in his eyes. “Fuck you too”

You didn’t realize Aeri was holding onto you until you started to step toward Mark. As soon as he was gone, Aeri turned to you, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, look at you,” she teased, her voice low. “Didn’t know we had plans tonight.”

“Oh whatever, ” You tried to play it cool, but your heart was still racing from the surge of possessiveness you hadn’t expected. “I just said that because I didn’t like how close he was getting. He seemed like a total douchebag too.” You huffed

Aeri chuckled, stepping in even closer, her breath warm against your neck. “Were you jealous or something n/n?”

Your cheeks burned. “Well- no! I…He was just being an asshole.”

She grinned, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Uh-huh~ Well, for the record, I liked it.” Her voice dropped, more serious now, as her hand brushed against yours. “You were kinda hot.”

“Oh, shut up.” You tried your best to shrug her off, but the burning red tips of your ears gave you away.

Aeri tilted her head, her teasing grin widening. “Now, I’m curious,” she said. “Was that all it was? Or do you have something you wanna tell me?”

You blinked, you were soooo caught but still feigned innocence. “What! No..”

“You pulling me away from that guy back there,” she said, crossing her arms as she leaned back. “You really did look like you were about to tackle him ya know? Was it really just because he was an asshole?” she giggled, she was so messing with you right now

You felt your face heat up. “It wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t—”

“You’re cute” She laughed, her amusement lighting up the darkness of the night. "Relax, I’m jus–” 

You had to say something, even if it made you feel like a fool. The words spilled out before you could stop them.

“Okay fine Aeri it’s because I like you and I have for a while now so of course I didn’t like seeing anyone flirt with you or let alone talk like that to yo–” You said it so quickly, you barely breathed between the words. But even in her tipsy state, Aeri understood you perfectly

Before you could finish, Aeri stepped forward, closing the distance between you in an instant. Her lips crashed against yours, fierce and sudden, cutting off your words. The kiss wasn’t hesitant—it was full of the tension that had been building between you for weeks.

When she pulled back, she let out a soft, teasing breath. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“What?” you breathlessly asked, your eye wide

“I like you too, stupid,” she whispered, her lips brushing yours as she spoke. “For a while now too”

“Wait, what?” You blinked, trying to process what just happened

“Really?” You managed to get out

“Yes! You dumbass,”  she smirked, her voice a low murmur. “Now shut the fuck up and kiss me again before I change my mind.”

Who were you to deny Aeri Uchinaga?

Maybe now she really did have plans to come over tonight.

[hoe4hotchner]

Extra Credit | [A.H]

Pairing: Professor!Hotch x fem!Reader CW: 18+, MDNI, coerced sexual activity, power imbalance, emotional manipulation, dubious consent, degradation and humiliation, age gap, student/professor, dom/sub dynamic, praise, (L/N) used once, no use of (Y/N). The smut in this is "just" a blowjob. WC: 2,9k

My dumb ass had to look up the american grading system cause we use a 7 point grading scale of numbers where I'm from. ---- Also alsoalso, i feel kind of evil with this one 😅

@ssamorganhotchner my love I will dedicate this fic to you cause your scream into the void made me finish it. 🤭🤭

           The lecture had been another brutal session, his lectures were always hard to get through, and you could still hear Mr. Hotchner’s voice echoing in your mind, sharp and cutting. His presence dominated the room - a force impossible to ignore - and it rattled you in a way no other professor ever had. Every question he posed felt like a challenge, every glance in your direction seemed to monitor your every move. The pressure in his class had been mounting for weeks now, suffocating and relentless as you tried your hardest to keep up with your studies.

           The other students had already packed up and left, the sounds of hurried footsteps and rustling papers fading as they filtered out of the lecture hall. You were just about to follow when his voice called out, stopping you in your tracks.

           "Miss (L/N), a moment, please."

           His tone was steady. There was no warmth, only command - one you couldn’t ignore, no matter how much you wanted to. Swallowing thickly, your pulse quickened as you turned to face him. Mr. Hotchner stood at the front of the room, his eyes locked onto you, persistent and unreadable. You’d seen that look before - the one that pierced through you, as if he were dissecting every inch of your character, sizing up your worth.

           "Come to my office," he continued, already gathering his notes. "There’s something we need to discuss."

           You nodded, a knot forming in your stomach. You knew exactly what this was about: the last test. The one you felt like you'd bombed so spectacularly, despite staying up all night cramming. Panic twisted in your chest as you hastily grabbed your things, every step toward his office feeling heavier like you were marching to your doom.

           When you arrived at his office, he was already seated behind his desk, his posture straight, his face calm yet calculating. His office was an extension of him - neat, organized, cold - the only warmth coming from the mahogany furniture decorating the room. You hesitated at the door, but when his eyes met yours, pinning you in place, you stepped inside without a word.

           "Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

           Your legs felt weak as you obeyed, sinking into the chair. The room seemed smaller now, the silence oppressive. The only sound was the rush of your own panicked heartbeat in your ears.

           Mr. Hotchner reached for the paper on his desk - your test - and slid it across the table toward you. Your eyes dropped to it, the red ink scrawled across the page like a string of wounds, culminating in the bold, unforgiving "F" circled at the top. The sight of it made your stomach drop.

           "Care to explain this?" His voice was low and direct, but there was an edge to it: disappointment, authority, judgment maybe.

           You opened your mouth, but no words came out. What could you say? You had failed. There was no excuse, no way to justify how badly you’d done, no matter how hard you’d tried.

           "I... I’m sorry," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I really did try, I-"

           His sharp gaze cut you off before you could finish. His expression hardened. "Trying isn’t enough, Miss. In this class, you’re expected to succeed. Effort without results means nothing to me." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes boring into you. "You know that, don’t you?"

           You nodded quickly, your throat tight with panic. "Yes, Professor. I just... I don’t know what happened."

           Mr. Hotchner sighed, sitting back in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the desk as his eyes flicked over you, assessing your every reaction. "This isn’t the first time your performance has been subpar," he mused, almost to himself. "But I’m not inclined to hand out second chances freely. You understand that, don’t you?"

           Your pulse quickened, and you grabbed the edges of the chair, trying to steady yourself. You needed this class to pass. Your entire academic path hinged on it. "Please, Sir," you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them. "I’ll do anything to make up for this. I just..."

           Hotch raised a brow, a faint smile tugging at his lips, though it held no warmth. "Anything, Miss?" His tone shifted, becoming darker, more sinister. He leaned forward again, his elbows resting on the desk, fingers steepled in front of him, his eyes locking onto yours.

           You froze, the weight of that single word hanging heavy in the air between you. Something in his gaze made your skin prickle, a cold realization settling over you, though you still didn’t fully understand what he meant.

           "There are ways," he said, almost absently, his eyes never leaving you. "To improve your grade. But... no, you wouldn’t want to do that."

           The soft, almost indifferent tone only made the tension worse, as if he were toying with the idea, considering something dark and unspoken. His eyes - steady and determined - never left yours, trapping you beneath the weight of his scrutiny. A shiver crawled up your spine, the walls of the small office seeming to close in as his stare held you in place, daring you to speak, to challenge the unspoken hint buried in his words. The air thickened, stifling, and at that moment, you realized you were no longer sitting across from your professor but a man who held all the power - and he knew it.

           "Please, Sir... anything." Your voice lingered on the verge of tears. Your stomach churned as you began to realize the gravity of the situation, the dark current running beneath his words. But it was too late. You’d already sealed your fate.

           The tension in the room thickened as Mr. Hotchner leaned back in his chair, his eyes eyeing you, estimating just what he could get you to do. His silence stretched, but you felt the shift - something in him had clicked, and it set your pulse racing with a mix of fear and something unnameable.

           He moved slowly, deliberately, pushing his chair back just enough to make space. He gestured to the small gap between him and the desk. "Come here," he said, his voice low, the command unquestionable.

           You hesitated, your legs trembling slightly as you stood, heart pounding so hard you swore he could hear it. He didn’t rush you, just watched as you took one small, uncertain step forward, then another, until you were standing directly between his legs. His proximity sent a jolt of awareness through you, your body hyperaware of the heat radiating from him - too close.

           Mr. Hotchner's hand reached out, his fingers brushing the fabric of your skirt before settling on your hip, guiding you into place with a firm grip. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a quiet rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. You felt trapped, pinned between him and the desk, with nowhere to escape as his other hand came to rest on the small of your back, pulling you even closer. The space between you vanished, and you swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat.

           You could feel his gaze, assessing, waiting for you to protest, to pull away - but you didn’t. Something about the smoothness of his words kept you intrigued. His control was absolute, the imbalance between you undeniable, and yet… you found yourself rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to think of anything but him and the way his hands felt against your skin.

           "There are certain things you’re willing to do," he said softly, his voice carrying a darker edge now. "Aren’t there?"

           You nodded, barely able to find your voice, the room spinning as his hand slid lower on your back, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. The intensity in his gaze was overwhelming, suffocating, and you realized with a sinking feeling that you were already too far gone to turn back now.

           Mr. Hotchner's gaze remained fixed on you as he maneuvered you with practiced ease. His grip on your hip tightened slightly, guiding you down until you were kneeling on the floor before him. The cold tile pressed against your knees, sending a shiver through you, but Mr. Hotchner's presence was a warm, commanding contrast.

           “That’s it,” he said, his voice rich with approval as you settled into the position he directed. “You’re doing well.”

           The praise made the tension more bearable yet, it came with an edge of something darker, something that made you shiver despite the heat pooling between you. You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes, and saw the way they softened just a touch, but only enough to keep you vulnerable.

           His hand moved with deliberate care, stroking the length of your hair. The soft, almost caressing touch was a strange contrast to the authority he exerted. “You’re very obedient,” Mr. Hotchner said, his tone almost gentle now, but there was an unmistakable command in his words. “And you know, I do appreciate that.” The warmth of his hand was soothing but carried with it an undercurrent of power, leaving you both comforted and apprehensive. “I can see you’re trying to do what it takes to improve.”

           He shifted slightly, his chair creaking as he leaned forward a bit, the fabric of his suit brushing against you. “You’re very dedicated,” he said softly, his eyes roaming over you with a mixture of satisfaction and something else you couldn’t quite place. “And I have to admit, it’s not something I see in my students very often.”

           Your breath quickened as his praise continued, his words a strange mix of encouragement and control that made you feel simultaneously uplifted and trapped. It confused you. The power he held over you was noticeable, his authority unchallenged as you knelt before him, feeling the weight of his gaze.

           “You’re willing to do whatever it takes,” Mr. Hotchner continued his hand now gently stroking the top of your head. “That’s very impressive. Most students wouldn’t go this far.”

           The air between you was thick with his dominance, the atmosphere heavy with the unspoken promises and threats that lingered in his words. His praise was both a comfort and a chain, binding you to him in a way that left you breathless and anxious for what was to come.

           Mr. Hotchner guided you to unbuckle his belt, watching as you hooked your fingers through the loop, carefully removing it and unzipping his pants. You kept looking up at him for reassurance, waiting for a nod of approval to continue. You gently grabbed the elastic waistband and slowly pulled his underwear down, revealing his thick, erect cock. It sprang free, long, and veined, with a bulky head already glistening with pre-cum. You couldn't help but let out a soft gasp at the sight of it.

           “Go on,” he urged. “Show me how much you want that grade.”

           With a slight nod, you leaned forward and extended your tongue, delicately licking the tip of his cock, tasting the salty sweetness. Mr. Hotchner let out a soft groan, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. Encouraged by his reaction, you opened your mouth and took just the head into your warm, wet mouth, swirling your tongue around it.

           “Fuck, that’s it,” he whispered, his hand gripping your neck, guiding your movements. “Suck it, take it deep.” He growled.

           You obeyed, slowly taking more of his length into your mouth, your lips sliding down his shaft. You moaned softly around his cock, the vibrations driving him wild. Mr. Hotchner's hand moved to the back of your head, gently holding you in place as he began to thrust his hips, fucking your mouth with slow, deliberate strokes.

           “You’re doing so well,” he praised, his voice hoarse with desire. “But I want more. I want to feel that tight throat of yours.”

           Eager to please, you relaxed your throat and took him deeper, your nose pressing into his pubic hair. You felt his cock hit the back of your throat, you gagged and coughed around him. Mr. Hotchner stilled for a brief moment as he let you adjust to the new position of his cock in your throat.

           As Mr. Hotchner's hand started gently caressing your hair once again, his other hand slowly shifted, a deliberate movement that drew your attention away from the soothing strokes. He let you take over, expecting you to continue pleasuring. His fingers, initially tender and reassuring, began to trace down the side of your neck, brushing lightly against the fabric of your blouse.

           “You’re doing very well,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. The praise seemed to be more about control than genuine encouragement, keeping you bound in a trance by his spell. The warmth of his hand became more insistent.

           You felt a shiver run down your spine as his hand moved with purpose, sliding along the curve of your shoulder and then lower. His fingers grazed the edge of your skirt, teasing the hem as they explored the fabric. The contact was both alarming and electric, the smoothness of his touch in stark contrast to the pressure of his gaze.

           “Such dedication,” Hotch continued, his tone almost contemplative. His fingers lingered at the edge of your skirt, the touch becoming more deliberate as he traced along the hem. “It’s rare to find someone so willing to go above and beyond.”

           The way his hand inched closer to the soft material of the front of your skirt, it made you acutely aware of the shift in the atmosphere. His touch, though light and seemingly casual, was charged with an intensity that left you on edge. The skirt felt suddenly like a barrier between you and him, a fragile line that he was now exploring with calculated movements.

           He pushed his fingers past the waistband; they were cold as they brushed against your stomach, slowly moving down toward your clothed heat. Mr. Hotchner tutted as he brushed his fingers against your folds, the soaking wet fabric leaving a slick trail on his fingers.

           “You naughty girl,” he mocked. “Do you feel that? The way your body reacts to my touch? How long have you been aching for this kind of attention?” He grinned, his fingers expertly drawing out mewls from you as you tried to keep your focus on the task at hand.

           You felt the way his cock twitched against your tongue, convulsing with every movement, every lick and suck. Mr. Hotchner could feel it too, his climax nearing. He moved his hands to the back of your head, holding you still as he flexed his muscles. You whined around him at the sudden loss of touch on your pussy.

           “Don’t be greedy,” he hissed through gritted teeth, fucking your mouth with such force that all you could do was stay still and relax your throat, trying your best to keep breathing through your nose.

           “Yes, that’s it, take it all,” he grunted, his hips moving faster now, driving his cock down your throat with each thrust. “Oh fuck, I’m close,” Mr. Hotchner groaned, his hips jerking as he came, emptying himself down your throat. You swallowed around him, taking every drop, your eyes never leaving his, a satisfied smile on his face.

           “Look at this mess you made,” he tutted, pulling his cock out of your mouth. The few drops of cum mixed with your saliva glistened under the light. “Now, clean it up.” He scooted his chair closer to the desk, effectively caging you in. “I have papers to grade.”

           You slowly started licking the shaft with small kitten licks as you made your way from the base to the head. You were scared he wouldn't pass you if you didn't follow his orders. Mr. Hotcher paid no attention to you whatsoever. You felt humiliated as you sat under his desk, his thoughts elsewhere as you mindlessly followed his demands. The sound of your tongue mixed with the slight scratching of his pen scribbling on the papers in front of him were the only sounds in the room.

           When you finished, the room seemed even smaller than when you'd entered, the walls closer than before. You sat back on your haunches, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps as you tried to process what had just happened, your mind swirling in confusion and shame.

           Mr. Hotchner leaned back, his expression calm, his eyes glittering with a smug satisfaction that made your skin crawl. You were about to ask what he would change your grade to, feeling you had at least deserved a D for the effort. But Mr. Hotcher sensed your question before you even opened your mouth.

           “Don’t think so fast, dear,” he said smoothly, his voice like ice on your skin. “Good grades cost more than that.”

           Your stomach twisted painfully, and you glanced up at him, unsure how to respond, your voice catching in your throat. You wanted to believe this nightmare was over, that you’d somehow paid your dues and could walk out of his office with your dignity intact.

           But Mr. Hotchner wasn’t finished with you. He regarded you coolly, one brow arching as he tilted his head slightly, watching your every reaction with dark amusement.

           “Same time next week?” he asked, though it wasn’t really a question - it was an expectation, a demand disguised as a polite inquiry.

           You nodded, the movement slow and uncertain, the weight of his gaze making you feel trapped, cornered. “Okay… sir,” you whispered, your voice small and fragile.

           His smile deepened, satisfied, and gently patted your cheek. “Good girl.”

[squiddy-god]

your ratio fics have been engraved into my mind...

may i request for dr. ratio and a cheeky professor! male reader? kind of friendly rivals to lovers...?

Hehehehehe i adore this request because i literally love this dynamic with ratio, like just his rivalry to lovers with a fellow professor is *chef kiss* i decided to make the reader an art professor because i feel like that is the dynamic i like the most with ratio. ive been getting alot of male reader request and i absolutly love it. ♥︎request open♥︎ Cw : fluffy, no tw, male!reader, art professor! Reader, “rivals” to lovers, 

The halls of the intelligentsia guild are writhe with the hustle and bustle of students, characteristic uniforms adorning each of them as they carry books and make small conversation before hurrying to a lecture. It was in one such hall that the class of veritas ratio took place, the many subjects that he resides over had landed him in the aptly nicknamed “miscellaneous” hallway as having him move to a different class for every lecture would be “idiotic” and “most tiresome a pursuit that could be avoided by simply providing a class in the miscellaneous hall-” as he put it.

What he did not count on was his new found “rivalry” with the art teacher across the hall. Your first meeting was brought on by several students complaining rather loudly in the halls as ratio walked to his class after his lunch, the subject of their ire none other than you- or rather their failing grade in what they described as “the easiest class to pass” and how they couldn't believe that they were failing your class. During that time he simply waved it off as something that doesn't concern him, after all he had never met you. The second time he heard about you before meeting you was also on a rather sour note, several students beginning to slack off in his class in favor of drawing and working on their respective projects for your class. This incident lead both to their scolding and the scathing email that he sends you, speaking of how clearly your habits as a teacher must me idiodic if your students feel the need to slack off. 

He receives back an email by the end of the day, full of sarcasm and the cheeky quip about how “perhaps someone should check over his prior research as, clearly, he is someone who makes uninformed decision on faulty circumstantial data before seeing it for yourself” and that has him fuming in his empty class. The next day however he is met after classes by the same group who Promptly apologize. 

“Uhm… Dr. Ratio? We'd like to apologize- we shouldn't have slacked off in your class” 

“Yeah Dr. (L/n) made us complete the assignment during his class so we submitted those too-”

“And he wanted us to give you this” one of them hands him a printed flier and he feels his face contort in shock at the apology. Taking the flier into his hands he dismisses the students with a warning to not make the same foolish mistakes twice, the flier says that there is going to be a student art exhibition in a few days.

“Hmmm, how quaint…” he mutters to himself but still takes mental note of the date and time. 

It is all of these things that lead him to his first official meeting with you, still in his characteristic plaster mask he makes his way down the familiar halls where he finds the art exhibition set up in one of the librarys, paintings, sculptures, digital art displayed on screens, and in the middle of the exhibition greeting the guests and pointing out remarkable students is you. You stand in a suit, clothing colorful and an artwork in itself, hands clasped in front of you and a polite smile on your features. The person you currently talk to walks off to enjoy the art and you seem to recognize the good Dr immediately. “Ah! Dr ratio I see you have decided to grace our little exhibition?” you smile as you walk up to him, taking in the plaster head that concealed any expression. “I see the rumors are true, tell me did you make this delightful mask yourself?” your eyes are analytical as you seem to scrutinize every detail of his plaster face, the curve of his roman nose, the gentle curvature of his eyes, the line of his sharp jaw, all of it falls under your watchful gaze and for once ratio feels himself grow slightly nervous. 

This is his first official meeting with you, and he realizes that you are not in fact the idiot or fool he initially assumed, but rather a man with a deep passion for art who much like him doesn't tolerate fools who willingly live in ignorance, and thus your “rivalry” with the good doctor is born. Both artistically and academically he competes with you, as much in the same way that patience breeds success, passion begets passion. 

His hand holds two bags as he walks across the empty call to your class, the afternoon sun that filters through tall windows gives his skin a warm glow as he enters your class finding you at your desk grading with nary a lunch break in sight. Ratio tsks shaking his head, he's no longer dawning his plaster mask, instead letting you see his vague annoyance as he sets one of the bags in front of you, the smell of your favorite food wafting up to your nose. “Oh my savior- to what do I owe the pleasure of being graced by the presence of the esteemed dr. ratio” he rolls his eyes as pulls up a chair. “I do not wish to see you work yourself into the ground” it was a half true statement, truly he didn't want to see you burn out, however what he's concealing is that deep in his chest is a nagging feeling to simply spend time with you, bask in your presence and soak in your company. Your voice seems to sooth the annoyance that seems constantly brewing inside him, smoothing over the creese in his brow as you poke and prod at him with your words, it was an odd feeling to be so indebted to such a fool. He ultimately surmised that while you were a fool you were also far from an idiot and even further from those moronic individuals that invoke his ire by squandering the opportunity of knowledge and basking in ignorance. 

You wipe a pretend tear from your eye as you rifle through the bag. “I didn't know you cared so much doctor” your voice is playful and it causes ratio’s eye to twitch. “Do not be foolish, i simply do not wish to lose the one person in this place that isn't a complete idiot” his voice is so matter of fact that it has your eyes widening at the rare concealed complement. “Oh ratio i didn't know you were in love~” the emphasis on love is followed shortly by a snicker. “So when is the wedding?” If you were to look up at this moment you would be rewarded by the blush that spreads across his skin to the tips of his ears and down his neck to his broad shoulders. For a man who claims to keep his words few and his thoughts deep he speaks often, and yet now he is truly rendered speechless by your cheeky remarks. “Nonesens, are you perhaps blinded to my affection for you?” he tsks again as if the very notion is the definition of ridiculous. “Perhaps my dear professor, you'd care to join me for a date one evening” the for you'd taken up to eat the lunch he had brought you is held precariously between your fingers, one move away from falling, and your mouth is agape in shock as you stare at his burgundy eyes.

 “I…I would be delighted to, veritas.”

[rodolfoparras]

ah your professor price drabble done killed me i'm so insane about him.

i love professor student dynamics but they almost always have sub/bottom reader if you can even find male reader which is just... yeah. BUT YOUR WRITING OH MY GODS. it's edible i'm literally gnawing on professor price who finally found a student to challenge him and immediately wants to fuck. so valid. i too am attracted to people who are willing to have academic banter with me, price, you're so real.

also imagine fucking him over his desk after hours and joking about it being for extra credit he would be so annoyed dnajndakd

-🪔

Genuinely nothing brings me more joy than taking stereotypical tropes and roles and swapping them around because why not I want body guard/ royalty trope where price is the royalty and falls for the body guard I want professor price who’s head over heels for a student I want secretary loser price falling for ceo reader

Pt 1 of professor!Price x student!reader

Cw: age gap, reader is in his 20s!!!, professor student relationship, power dynamics, price is a bit of a creep, 18+

Okay but hear me out… jealous professor!Price

Price doesn’t like you. He couldn’t- shouldn’t. He’s a professor and you’re his student. If anything, these little fantasies were just that, fantasies, a way of getting through a boring work day.

Was it wrong? Sure. But it’s not like he plans on acting on them so might as well indulge in them.

Fuck he sounds like a perverted old man but he can’t find it in himself to care as he unbuttons his pants, takes his weeping cock in his hand, while thinking of your interactions from the day, can’t help but wear a plug to work, stretching the tight ring of muscles, preparing himself as if you’d fuck him after the lecture, can’t help but live off of these fantasies til he gets home for the day, and fucks himself with one of his dildos while imaging it’s your cock instead.

Fantasies.

That’s what it is.

Nothing more nothing less.

However he finds himself less sure about his feelings when he’s one day standing at the front of the lecture hall, arms crossed and brow raised, staring at the random student sitting a bit too close to you.

“Professor Price I have a question…”

The sound of another student’s voice snaps him out of his trance, heat creeping up his face and and vehemently avoiding your questioning gaze while proceeding to answer the student’s question.

Later on when the lecture ends he notices you and the same student from earlier walking out together. Price proceeds to packs up his stuff, all while continuously thinking about who that student was.

He hasn’t seen this kid hanging out with you before. The fact that the two of you were friends seemed so bizarre since- No. He shouldn’t dwell on it. He had no business questioning who you were and weren’t friends with. Besides he couldn’t be jealous now right? He didn’t like you that way. He didn’t like you at all.

That random student’s name turned out to be Tim and in a short amount of time you’d become very close friends with him to the point where you and him would be whispering about in class. Price would purposely interrupt your discussion with a question thinking you wouldn’t be able to answer him but you’d always be prepared, sounding and looking as confident as ever while answering his question and - fuck he couldn’t help the blood rushing to his dick as you confidently answered him. You were so clever, so confident and he couldn’t help but like that about you.

Like.

There it was, the word again and he swallows it down like his pride as he continues on with his lecture, allowing you and Tim to return to your discussion.

But he mulls over the word again when he sits all alone in the lecture hall eating his lunch because you and Tim were “going to grab something together”.

As much as Price hated to admit it, he did miss your presence at lunch. Sure you’d chatter his ear off and leave traces of your lunch all over the desk but Price enjoyed the company.

He enjoyed the fact that someone took interest in his lecture- in him after so many years.

He enjoyed having discussions with you even though you’d question everything he said.

And he enjoyed your company at lunch no matter what else he may say.

Weeks passed without the two of you interacting much.

It was better off this way, Price thinks to himself.

Fantasies, that all it was anyway, repeats it so much to himself so that the next time he sees you sitting in one of the extra chairs, legs propped on his desk and eating away at some poor excuse of lunch you made, he thinks that’s a fantasy as well.

He doesn’t ask about Tim and you don’t say anything so Price proceeds to work through the stack of assignments that had been piling up on his desk while silently allowing himself to enjoy this moment.

But soon enough reality hits him in the face or maybe it was when you randomly mentioned Tim that the damn burst inside of him and the words came flowing out of him.

“You should ask the lad out”

“Huh?” You say, seemingly confused by his choice of words since you’d been complaining about morning lectures just seconds before this.

“Tommy?” He tries again, pushing away from his desk, arms now folded over his chest.

You look at him in confusion before it clicks “Tim”

He nods his head, feeling slight annoyance at hearing the name but tries to not let it show on his face. “You should ask him out”.

“Why do you say that?”

“You seem to like him” Price shrugs, seemingly much less confident as he busies himself with cleaning off the stray crumbs you left on his desk.

“Yeah?” Price doesn’t even notice the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Come on kid I’m old but I’m that not old. It’s obvious that you like him.” He says before dumping the pile of crumbs into the trash can.

“Never said you were,” you say completely ignore the latter statement as you smile at him.

For a second Price freezes in place, heat creeping up his face before he clears his throat and looks away. “Either way you should ask him out,”

“I don’t like him” you say with a shrug, still smiling at the older man.

Price scoffs at that.

“You do an awful job at lying, flirting too,”

“Why do you say so?” You say with a small smile on your face neither denying or confirming his suspicions which leaves him feeling tensed

“Well to start off, you’re spending your free time with some old man when you could be with Tom-Tim right now,”

“What if I want to do that though?”

He only scoffs in response, “you don’t want that,”

“I do, though,” you say, sounding firm as ever and for one second it sounds like you’re talking about something else, something he’s been trying to deny for the past months and the implication leaves him speechless and frozen in place, trying to process what you’d just said.

“Professor Price?”

[munsonsmixtapes]

hii i’m such a fan of your work would you please do a proffesor eddie x reader smut? but eddie is a teacher that teaches 1 grade higher than the grade reader is learning in thank you !! (+aftercare please 😽💗 )

Hi, lovely! Thank you so much!

cw: MDNI (18+) oral (both f and m receiving), fingering, anal, age gap (Eddie is 35 and reader is 20) student/teacher dynamic

You stand outside Professor Munson’s office as you wait for him to answer the door. This isn't your first tutoring session with him but you're more than excited to see him. Maybe it's because you find him attractive, but it's mostly because ever since that one very vivid dream you had about him bending you over his desk, you haven't been able to think straight.

You were really looking forward to his class in the beginning because you had always admired him as a professor. He had been so highly praised throughout the university and you had actually been a huge fan of all the articles he'd written and you were even embarrassed to admit that you had a signed copy of his book in your desk drawer.

Professor Munson's class, English Literature of the 20th century, was usually for juniors and seniors who needed a little kick or maybe some extra credit, but you had convinced your advisor to help you get into his summer class to give you an extra boost, and somehow, it had worked. But you had been struggling to keep up, the work load piling up on you.

So you weren't surprised when the professor himself offered to tutor you on the weekends, and because you were eager to get your grade up and spend a few extra hours every week with him, you agreed. It was a win-win in your eyes.

You unbutton the top three buttons of your cardigan as you wait, making sure that your cleavage is fully visible before pulling your lip gloss and compact mirror from your backpack, quickly applying an extra layer so they're prepped if you ended up doing things other than studying.

You toss your things into your bag as the door opens and you put on a grin as you take the man in. His outfits are always so casual and you like that about him. He's always dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Sometimes his leather jacket will make an appearance, but you know that's only when he rides his motorcycle. Seeing the thing draped over the back of his chair told you that he had ridden it this morning.

You try not to stare for too long as you enter the office, him closing the door behind you as you sit in the chair across from his desk, pulling your things out of your backpack that you've set on the floor in front of you.

This isn't how it's supposed to go. If you had it your way, you would have been sat on the desk with him between your legs as he kisses you stupid, the grown out stubble of his beard scraping against your chin as he licked into your mouth-

"Y/n?" He asks, pulling you out of your dirty fantasy and you shake your head, looking up to see that he's right in front of you. "Are you alright?" He asks as his hand hesitantly rests on your shoulder, his warm, brown eyes boring into yours.

Eddie's worried about you, trying to come off like a concerned teacher, but if he's being honest, he's attracted to you. He knows he shouldn't be, but he can't help but think about how pretty you are.

You're his student and he knows that he could get fired if it was found out that anything happened between the two of you, but goddamn does he want to lay you over his desk and have his way with you.

"I'm fine, Mr.-I mean, Eddie," you correct yourself as you remember that he likes his students to call him by his first name. And to you, it just seems right. God, what you would give to moan his name over and over as his fat cock pounded into you.

"Are you sure?" He asks as his hand slowly reaches up and caresses your jaw, rubbing his thumb along it back and forth. You hum as you lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as you wonder what his fingers would feel like between your legs. That is why you wore skirt, isn’t it?

But then you realize what you’re doing and your eyes open wide, sitting up straighter in the chair. Trying your best to wipe your dirty thoughts from your mind even though you’re already wet beyond believe and it’s getting harder to hide.

So you cross your legs and Eddie backs off, leaning against the desk to create some distance between the two of you. You have no idea that his mind is all spinning with the most filthy thoughts that are making him dizzy.

He moves to sit behind his desk just so you won’t see the bulge in his pants as his thoughts get even worse as time progresses. And when you get up out of your chair and bend over to grab your books from your backpack, he gets a great view of your panties, thinking about how much he wants to smack your ass while he bends you over the desk, telling you what a good little whore you are as he fucks you from behind, deep and hard, hearing your cries from where your face is pinned to the desk.

He's never felt this way about any of his students, but there's something about you that's different. Mostly because you're so forward about your attraction to him. You have your cleavage on full display for god's sake. That had to mean something.

And seeing your glossed lips smiling at him as you sit back in his chair makes him so glad you can't see his crotch. He can see you crawling under his desk, unzipping his pants and pulling them down along with his underwear his belt clinking as it hits the toe of his boots. He can practically feel your pretty lips wrapping around his cock as you take him into his mouth, looking down and seeing your cheeks hallow as you suck him off, giving him the best head of his life right there in his office.

Eddie has to hold back from moaning right there as his fantasy plays out so vividly in his head. He knows it’s wrong because you’re his student, but he can’t help it. You’re beautiful and smart and kind and he wants you more than he can comprehend.

You can feel his gaze on you as you scribble something in your notebook as you wait for him to begin the session and look up at him through your lashes, seeing how he's looking at you like he wants to swallow you whole and you're more than willing to tell him that he do whatever he wants to you.

His eyes are dark and yours are filling with lust. There's no way either you can focus on the session until you get your urges out of your systems and you're perfectly fine with that, what you both had been there for initially no longer on your mind.

Before you can stop yourselves, you're out of your chairs, rounding the desk into you meet on the side. Eddie makes the first move, pulling you into his arms as he presses his lips to yours with so much force, his nose digging into your cheek as he breathes heavily.

Your lips moves together in sync as you grab fistfuls of his shirt, his hands traveling down your body and up your skirt, giving your ass a squeeze, causing you gasp into his mouth. He takes your mouth opening as an invitation to slide his tongue into your mouth as he turns you around, lifting you up to sit on the edge of desk.

You spread your legs and he stands between them as he kisses his way down your neck, one of his hands pinned to the desk while his other one slides into your underwear, moving back and forth along your slit.

“Fuck,” he whines. “If I had known you were this wet I would have done this a long time ago.” He begins to suck on your neck as his fingers find his way into your cunt pumping in and out and all that can be heard in his quiet office are the noises coming from your mouth and the squelching of your sopping wet pussy as his fingers fuck you.

“Oh my god,” you moan, your palms pressing against the desk, slowly sliding backwards, pushing the objects that are in their way backwards, falling off the edge, but neither of you seem to care.

Eddie’s soft lips suck on your neck as fingers work your pussy, pulling moan after moan from you, your eyes shutting tight as you let him scandalize you, sucking in a breath as his teeth glide along your skin, his fingers curving as you clench around them, already reaching your orgasm. Eddie pulls away just in time to see you scream his name and he’s getting even more hard at the sound of it, the whole thing sounding even better than he had imagined.

“That’s right,” he says, his voice raspy. “Just like that, pretty girl. Look so pretty when you come for me.”

His fingers continue to pump in and out, in and out as he tries to get you to come again. Your eyes are rolling into the back of your head and he’s feeling cocky that he can make you feel so much just from his fingers.

You come one more time and he removes his fingers out of you as he lets you come down from your orgasm, liking all of the traces of your slick, moaning at how absolutely delicious you taste, closing his eyes as he savors the flavor of you.

His eyes open once he’s done and he sees you now laying on his desk, splayed out for him like an all you can eat buffet and he’s starving. Before he can stop himself, he’s on his knees, pulling you forward so his head is underneath your skirt. His teeth find the waistband of your panties and he pulls them down to your thighs before finishing the job with his hand.

He then balls them in his fist before he rises to his feet. You watch him lean over you, bringing his hand up to your chin, pushing your mouth open.

“Open wide,” he says, his voice nothing but authoritative and you can’t help but feel more wet as he tells you what to do in a non classroom setting.

You open your mouth and watch him stuff it with you underwear, pushing it so far inside that you’re gagging on it already.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos. “Gotta keep that pretty mouth shut, hm? Jesus, hon, you’re already drooling,” he wipes the spit away from your chin with the pad of his thumb.

His lips move down to your neck again, migrating towards your chest as his finger pulling at your cardigan, another gasp falling from your lips as it's ripped open, multiple buttons flying across the room.

"Hope you didn't have too much attachment to that," he says as his lips ghost over the top of one of your tits.

You shake your head even though he can't see you, his head moving lower as he licks and suck on on your bare skin, your hands gripping onto each side of the desk for dear life.

He kisses the spot between your belly button and the waist band of your skirt before unzipping the side, sliding it down your legs until it falls to the floor, spreading your legs to get a good look at your cunt.

"God, so needy for me, hm?" He chuckles as he gets down on his knees once again. "You're dripping, but don't worry, daddy's gonna clean you up."

You nod eagerly, wanting, needing his face between your thighs. It's only right that he cleans up the mess he's created. Your legs are draped over his shoulder and he dives in, notice how you twitch when his nose brushes your cunt.

His mouth is on your clit in an instant suckling on it like he's getting paid to do so, his tongue moving back and forth slowly as your hands thread through his hair, giving it a yank as your muffled moans fill the room.

"That's right," he pulls away from you just enough to where you can hear him speak. "Moan like the little whore I know you are." And then his face is back into your cunt, his mouth on your slit, all teeth and tongue and lips as his teeth slide along the skin harshly, his fingers digging into your thighs that are tightening around his head as you moan again and again, your heels digging into his back as yours arches off of the desk, pulling onto his hair with so much force that it flies back, his mouth no longer on you.

"Take is easy. hon," he chuckles, removing your hands from his hair before he's at it again. They grasp onto the desk, your nails digging into the wood, surely making claw marks, but you're sure that he doesn't care, definitely wanting to have a physical reminder to remind him of what's happening when you leave.

His pushing his tongue inside you and it fucks your cunt hard and fast, an orgasm rolling through you as he does so, the loudest moan you can muster with your panties in your mouth flies out of it and Eddie keeps it up, picking up his pace as his tongue reaches just the right spot as you're practically crying.

And that's when he removes himself from you, rising from his feet, letting you come down from your high as pulls your underwear from your mouth and tosses it to the side, watching your reaction as he unbuckles his belt, the only sound that can be heard is it hitting the floor as he removes his jeans and underwear, his massive cock coming into view, the thing already leaking with cum.

"Tun over," he commands and you do so, hopping off the desk then leaning over the front of it, wiggling your bare ass in a teasing manner. Eddie is behind you in a flash, pressing his hard cock against your ass before rubbing his cum over it to lube it up. He then pushes down onto the desk, pressing your face into it, making sure your face stays there before he pounds into you, you moans sounding heavenly as you respond to his every move.

Your hands are gripping the edge of the desk again as his fingers are digging into your hips so roughly as he fucks into from behind you, fitting as much of his cock as you can take as you beg and beg for more. The whole thing is filthy. It's absolutely delicious.

"That's it. Just like that. Take me like the whore I know you are." He sinks further inside and you clench around him, your eyes watering as he does so, but there's not way you're making him stop.

"Daddy please," you whine as his hand collides with one of your ass cheeks as soon as there's a knock on the door.

Eddie pulls out of you in record speed and pulls up his pants before handing you your skirt that you're quick to put on, followed by your cardigan as Eddie's pushing you towards his side of the desk where you crawl under as Eddie pulls up his pants and underwear, not bother to buckle his belt as he sits in his chair, pushing it under the desk as he tells whoever is on the other side that they can come in and smiles once he sees that it's Chelsea, one of his seniors.

She's holding the test the class had just taken the day before and he's assuming that she needs help with it. He's usually very eager to help, but not right now, not when you're unzipping his pants, pulling his cock out of them.

He wants to tell you to stop, but he can't. His need for you to suck him off outweighs his thoughts of how inappropriate it is in general, let alone with another student there.

"What is it that I can do for you, Chelsea?" He asks, trying to keep is voice even as he can as you take him into your mouth.

"Well," the girl replies. "I didn't do very well on the test and I was wondering if there was any way I could fix it." The look on her face is very flirty and her tone is seductive and normally, Eddie would clock it and send her on her way, but he's a little...distracted.

"Sure," he replies, his voice getting squeaky as you give his cock a rough suck, quickly clearing his throat, trying to play off that he's got something stuck in it, even going as far as coughing into his fist to try be convincing. "Let's see," he says as he takes the test from her, setting it down on his desk, twitching as your sucks get more rough, your tongue putting in the work as it swirls around the head.

"I was also wondering if you would be able to do some private sessions with me?" She asks, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger and that's when Eddie catches on.

Eddie's fist slams down on the desk as he's getting close and Chelsea jumps at the sudden aggression coming from her professor.

"Miss Richards," he says, his voice a little too harsh, but he can't back out now. He's gotta full send it now. "I don't know what kind of professor you think I am, but I am certainly not the kind that sleeps with his students."

"But-"

"No," he shakes his head, his eyes squeezing tightly closed as he's trying so hard not to come. "Now out!" he yells as he points to the door and Chelsea takes her test and hurries to the door but not before she trips over something in her path.

She looks down and sure enough, she's standing on what looks a pair of underwear. And suddenly, everything clicks in her brain as she flees the office, especially when she hears his loud moans coming from the other side of the door after she's closed it. Oh, she's so spreading around that Professor Munson definitely fucks his students.

[a-million-usernames]

All Too Well (Part Two)

Last year, @burningdownthedark hit both @leatherboundbirate and I with an idea for an au of our au, featuring All Too Well and I thought you know, I’m going to write about this. AND NO SHOCKER HERE but I’m still in the process of doing so. This is the second part, which is a follow up to the Intro, which you can read here.

Warnings:Female Reader, Angst, Daddy Kink, Gendered Pet Names, Student/Teacher Power Dynamic, Light Choking/Gagging Word Count:1,435 As always, you can find this over on AO3.

Months later the mild warmth of early Autumn days has long since given way to the bitter and whipping winds of a colder than normal winter, but in the confines of a locked office, the two of you remain oh so warm. Panted breaths remain hushed to prevent those kept at bay by the closed door from becoming privy to what’s currently unfolding as clumsy hands fumble with a belt, the buckle soon knocking heavily against the exposed wooden top of the desk between your parted legs. Jack utters a soft hush against your lips, swallowing down a moan that slips free from your lips when deft fingers pull aside dampened fabric to explore your already glistening cunt. You respond in kind, wrapping a hand around the thick girth of his half-hard cock, causing his hips to buck further into your grasp; a silent urging for you to continue.

“That’s it, Princess,” he gasps into your mouth when your hand gives a tentative squeeze before setting a steady rhythm. “Want you to get Daddy nice ‘n’ hard before I–mmmfffuck–wreck this little pussy.”

A happy little noise is emitted, something akin to a breathy laugh or maybe a gasp—perhaps a mix of the two, Jack cannot really tell. Truthfully, he’s too far gone to really care, lost in the way that your soft hand strokes up and down his cock that now stands rigid against your palm. His hips begin to give tentative thrusts that move in perfect rhythm with your hand and this time, when your thumb glides along the head of his cock to spread and smear the beads of precum that have already gathered, it is Jack who is forced to be as quiet as possible. His lips part against yours, and a puff of hot air fans across your face as he huffs out a silent moan in response to the touch. God, he’s going to miss this when—

No, he shakes the thought from his mind.

He’s going to enjoy this moment with you. And enjoy he does when he pulls his fingers from your slick cunt, watching as they glisten beneath the harsh fluorescent lights overhead.

“Open,” he instructs.

It comes as no surprise to him that you do as you’re told, opening your mouth to reveal your tongue to him. He slides his fingers in, showing little mercy when he jabs them into the back of your throat. He likes this, likes watching as your happy expression changes to one of focus and concentration as you struggle not to choke on thick digits. You fail, of course. You always fail—small choking noises fill the room, and as you struggle against him, he can feel the way that your hand inadvertently grips and squeezes his cock tighter, as if doing so helps to brace you through moments such as this. His cock throbs against your palm and, fuck, he’d love nothing more than to have you on your knees in front of him, his angry, red cock shoved deep into the back of your throat as you fight against him, struggling to breathe while he stuffs you full.

He shakes the image from his mind, chasing away darker thoughts that always linger so dangerously close—too close for his liking.

Now that his fingers have been sufficiently cleaned, he pulls them free from your mouth and uses the spit that now covers them to slicken his cock once he chases away the hand that had been holding it mere seconds ago. Even held in his large hand, his cock still manages to look impressive and intimidating and though he knows that you yield to him so perfectly, taking him with little complaint each time, he cannot help but wonder if this is finally the time you tell him that it is too much.

Jack takes a step forward, his slacks now slipping down to the midway points of his thighs from the movement. He takes his time now, teasing the both of you as he slides the head of his cock up along your wet pussy, circling it around your clit over and over again. He loves this moment, as torturous as it is for him, because he knows that it is even more so for you; the light taps his doles out onto the sensitive bundle of nerves coupled with the ceaseless circling are almost always guaranteed to have your body trembling beneath his.

Oh, how he loves to see you at his mercy.

He waits until you are teetering so dangerously close to the edge, right when you begin to spasm and clench around nothing, though you’re still not quite there yet. Only then does he allow his cock to slip down until it notches in the warmth of your cunt, and without allowing for any accommodation to his girth, Jack seizes forward, stopping only when he can go no further, until he is buried in you completely. It’s risky, he knows, doing this to you when there are people right outside of the door, administrators who could hear if you so much as let a moan or a scream slip past those pretty lips of yours. But it’s the thrill of such a notion that Jack loves so much. Even in spite of his rough handling, how he purposely tries to coax the faintest little whimper from you—tries to see how much he can get away with—you always manage to stay perfectly quiet.

His perfect girl.

Your pussy feels as if it was made for him, gripping him tightly, bringing him closer and closer to his release with each stroke of his cock against your soft, slick walls. The desk squeaks once beneath you on a particularly rough thrust, and though Jack shifts his attention to the door, his hips never once cease their relentless onslaught. His brow is beaded with sweat when he looks back to you, brows now pinched in concentration and face reddened by the strain of keeping quiet. He slips a hand between the two of you to work a calloused thumb against your already sensitive and stiffened clit, circling it over and over again until finally—fuck, finally—he can feel your cunt fluttering around him and gripping him even tighter than before. His free hand is quick to slip over your mouth, perhaps gripping a little too hard as he stops the cries that always inevitably slip free in spite of your best efforts to keep them at bay.

Jack, the very man who you’ve heard snarling, grunting, and growling like a feral beast possessed in your most heated of moments, cums with birthing more than the tiniest whimper. Throwing his head back, veins and tendons straining with the effort of being silent in a moment when he’d love nothing more than to roar with ferocity, his hips stutter and then still entirely. His cock throbs with each rope of cum that he shoots deep into your greedy little cunt. When he finally settles, the all too intense sensation passing, he bends down to deposit a single kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” you whisper up to him like a prayer, the words you’ve held onto for months now finally spilling free.

There is the faintest curving of his lips, you notice, but… Jack finds that he can’t bring himself to say it. The words are trapped in his throat, stuck behind a blockade of other emotions he cannot bear to burden you with here and now. It never comes, the verbal reciprocation you’d desperately been hoping for. Instead, Jack leans in once more and presses a tender kiss to your forehead, allowing his lips to linger for longer than necessary before pulling away from you to tuck himself back into his pants and make himself look presentable once again.

With a quick glance at the watch that adorns his wrist, he looks back at where you remain atop his desk. “If you hurry, you can make it to your creative writing class on time.”

It’s impossible to miss the disappointment that flashes across your face when he finally speaks. Jack falls silent again when you all but throw yourself off of his desk, avoiding any and all eye contact with him as you work to fix your appearance before gathering the collegiate materials you’d left on a nearby seat when you’d first entered his office earlier in the day.

There are no more words exchanged when you vacate his office, leaving him standing in the center of the room, a hand passing through thinning hair. All that remains is a deafening silence.

[reareaotaku]

I Can't Have You

Summary: You always admired the acclaimed Stanford Pines, so when you were able to take his class in college, you were quick to take up the offer. If only you knew how this would affect both of your lives. Tw/Cw: Taboo, Dead Dove Content, Professor Ford, Student Reader, Power Dynamics, Dubious Consent, Age-Gap [Reader is in her early 20's], Older Man w/ Younger Woman, NSFW thoughts/Themes, Jealousy, Daddy Issues Inspired by: Only an Experiment

Linktree 4 the People of Palestine

You were thrilled when seeing the name Professor Stanford Pines on your schedule/degree plan. He was wildly acclaimed around the world for his contributions to science. To even be in the same room as someone so brilliant is something you could only dream of.

You were one of the first students in the class, which was good for you, because you were able to get some one on one time with him, before class started.

You walked behind him, going to tap his shoulder, when he turned around and was startled by your presence. He fiddles with his glasses and clears his throat.

"Um.. Hello."

You smile brightly at him, nearly jumping with joy. "Hello, Mr. Pines." You grab his hand, going to shake it, before pointing out that he had six fingers. "Wow- You have six fingers? Really? I didn't think it was real, but wow-"

Ford is alittle taken aback by your bluntness. "Uh, may I ask for your name?"

"I'm so sorry." You straighten up and put your hands together. "I'm Y/n L/n. I've admired you since I was a kid. You're like... the greatest man to exist."

He smiles, chuckling, "Well, I imagine I'll see great things from you, yes?"

"I sure hope so."

---

You tapped your pin against your desk, your knee bouncing as you tried to focus. Your mind kept racing to your professor, Ford... You hadn't expected him to be so... charming and handsome.

You sighed in bliss as you watched the man lecture. He had such a way with words and you were mesmerized by him.

The past few months you've been in his class have been incredible. He was just brilliant, and it showed with his work and words. You had never felt such a connection with someone.

He dismisses the class, but ends up calling you back. You were a little surprised, because he had never called you back before- In fact, no teacher has ever called you back.

"Y/n, you know I must say I'm very impressed with your writing." He tells you as he pulls out some of your papers. "You remind me of myself. So... brilliant. I'm very impressed with your work and wanted to tell you if you ever need help, my door is always open- For you anyway."

You smiled, a little flustered, "Um... Thank you, Mr. Pines-"

"You can call me Ford. When we're alone. No need for formality."

"Of course. Thank you, Ford. I'll definitely take you up on your offer."

"I sure hope you do." He smiles and you have to control the way your body seems to melt. You only hoped he didn't know the power he had over you.

---

You sipped on your drink, sitting in a small cafe while you were surrounded by books. You took a sip of your drink before sighing and leaning on your hand. You were distracted by a voice that called you.

"Uh, Y/n right?"

You were surprised that this guy approached you and knew your name. "Uh, yeah?"

"I'm Rob. We're in the same Philosophy class."

"Oh, yeah. I think I've seen you before."

He takes the seat in front of you, much to your dismay. You were just trying to study, not keep up a social conversation. You sighed, still focusing on your books as he kept talking, trying to keep your attention. Thankfully, a voice breaks out and pulls both of your attention away from each other.

You were surprised to see Ford, but you shouldn't have been, because the cafe was close to the school. You could tell something was off with Ford. You weren't sure what, but something was wrong.

"Um, Mr. Pines! I didn't know you liked Cafe's."

Your professor turns to you, smiling a sickly smile. "Uh, was just... around."

The tension was thick and you wondered if you should break the silence, but Rob finally does.

"Uh, you know, Y/n, I've got to go. I have class in like 30 minutes, but I'll see you around." He waves goodbye and you recuperate to be nice, but you were glad you didn't have to talk to him.

"Boyfriend?" Ford gestures to the leaving man and you quickly shake your head.

"God, no. No, no, no, no, no. Never. I don't even know that guy. He approached me."

"You don't know how good that is to hear."

"Yeah. Besides," You look Ford up and down. "He's not really my type."

---

You stared at your ceiling, frustrated. All your room-mates were asleep, making it impossible for you to talk to any of them about the problems you faced. You looked over at your desk where your final and sighed to yourself. You weren't sure why it was bothering you so much, but maybe it was because you really wanted to impress Ford and have him compliment you.

You frowned, wondering why you needed Ford's approval so bad. Maybe it had to go back to your daddy issues? He did give you the attention and approval you lacked during your adolescent years. But, Ford had always been someone you looked up too, so you would love to have his attention.

In fact, you would love more than his attention- or at least a different kind of attention... Like something more... You sighed, pushing a hand through your hair. You wanted to rid yourself the thoughts that plagued your mind.

The thoughts of being bent over backwards by a man that is over triple your age were driving you crazy. The fact that even for his older age, he seemed to be more active than you, so you were sure you could be bent so many different ways-

You groaned, shaking your head and covering your eyes. God, how could you look at the man knowing your thoughts about him in the dead of the night?

You looked back to your final project, before doing something stupid. You grabbed it and headed out of your apartment, heading towards the school.

---

You sighed as you stood infront of your professor's door. It was almost 2 in the morning and you doubted he was in his office, but the final was weighing heavily on your mind and you couldn't sleep. You raise your hand to knock but stop yourself.

You couldn't do this... You sighed, yet again, leaning your head on the door, only to fall forward when the door opened. Ford thankfully caught you before you could fall flat on your ass.

"Y/n, what are you doing?"

You felt your words get caught in your throat- He was still there, in his office... So late in the night. "Uh... Well-" You looked over at his desk to see a globe like thing with something moving in it. "What's that?"

He turns towards the globe, "Ahh, that." He lets you in and brings you over to the globe. He picks it up and shows it to you. "It's the interdimensional rift."

"What does that mean?"

"It's a controlled portal to other worlds- Or at least, it's in a controlled environment."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Very." He gestures to your project, a Perpetual Motion Machine, "What's that?"

"Uh... It's supposed to demonstrate Perpetual Motion-"

"I see that." He puts down your invention and pushes one of the balls and watches as it falls and bounces back up repeating the cycle. "You know..." He takes a seat and gestures for you to take a seat next to him. "When I was in high school, I made my own Perpetual Motion Machine... It was supposed to get me in my dream school..." He stops and you watch expectingly.

"But?"

He sighs, looking over at you, "My brother broke it and I didn't get in."

"A school rejected you? I don't believe it."

He laughs, a heavy hearty laugh. It was a nice laugh. You liked his laugh. "Oh, Y/n, you are something, you know that?"

"So, I've been told."

"I'm sure you have..." He smiles, scooting closer to you. "You're very special, Y/n." He tells you, his hands now on your knees.

You felt your face go a dark red at the closeness. You could see each of his eyelashes...

"You truly.... appreciate the brilliance of my mind. I know you would never take advantage of the knowledge I offer."

You wanted to respond, but before you could, there was a knock on the door and you pushed yourself away from him. Ford sighs, but gets up and opens the door. It was a student, because of course it was. Who else would it be?

They talk for a few minutes and you sigh to yourself. He closes the door and turns back to you, surprised to see you standing up with your work in your hands.

"What's wrong?"

"You know, it's late. I should get back to bed. You should, too. The sun's almost up, so I should try and get some sleep."

"I- Uh, yes. You should get some sleep. I'll see you later."

"Yeah... You will." You hold your head down as you exit his office, because you knew if you looked at him, you'd be drawn back in and stay.

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

I. “the club within the club”

parts: next

plot: when you find yourself needing a topic for a journalism final, you seek out an interview from Gotham’s elusive vigilante: Batman. this proves even more difficult than it already sounds, and tensions rise when you discover an intimate secret—just as Bruce Wayne realizes his own.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+ MATURE! NSFW! canon-typical violence, slow burn, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, forced proximity, eventual smut, mutual pining, POV alternating, Bruce Wayne needs a hug, mental health issues (psychosis, suicidality), substance use, blackmail (or is it?), serious health issues, grief, brief mention of sa, gaslighting, mild gore

words: 2.1k

a/n: this is my first fic i’ve posted to tumblr and ao3, very excited to see how people like it ✨ same user on ao3 :) comments and reblogs are so appreciated! 💖

"I haven’t turned in the assignment yet, I'm so sorry," You fumbled with your book and it slipped forward on the desk. Your professor wasn't too happy with you; already a week late, this assignment was creating a piece of journalism about happenings around the city—the city was used loosely, because it was school policy not to require students be in the field for assignments. You never wanted to linger on what might have caused that rule to be enforced.

Dr. Vry was usually the picture of impatience, though she had a soft spot for you—she described you as a ‘journalistic prodigy’. You couldn’t see it, and it didn't help that you couldn't write your final piece when graduation was so near. While you’d done well in the intro courses, now that the material was more complex… you were struggling. She would say it was all in your head, and the only thing holding you back was lack of confidence in your burgeoning journalism skills, but you weren’t so sure. You had come from a sociology background but had interest in learning journalism with your last few credits, unaware how much grief this would cause you.

"Y/N, you're overthinking it.” She gently shook her head, her salt and pepper hair unmoving in the slick bun. “I'll extend it until the end of next week without point reduction. But after that it's out of my hands!" With that you thanked her, hurrying out of the class with your book tightly squeezed to your chest. Thank god, you thought. I can't fail out of a class in my last term.

That evening you holed up in your apartment per usual. You absentmindedly texted your one friend here, Margaret, but knew she was out clubbing. You’d met in a sociology course last year when you transferred. She had been the only one kind enough to show you around the city, the social butterfly she was; holding your hand as she dragged you from bar to bar, club to club. This led to a cat and mouse dynamic between you both: her always hopping to the next party albeit the occasional pit stop in your apartment and you, the reclusive homebody. You hadn’t always been so subdued, but you hadn’t always lived in the crime capital of the US.

You longed for more companionship, but focused on how you'd be leaving Gotham after graduation. The sting of loneliness here was too great, and it was no use stringing more people along. Mar had snuck her way into a crack in the first few months of your arrival. Back when you thought you might find something here. Back before you were proven wrong, and you’d given up on this godforsaken city.

Mar didn’t usually respond but tonight, she did.

Y/N, get your ass to the club! I miss you.

You chuckled a little to yourself at the idea of getting all ready to be sweaty in a room full of strangers. No thanks, have fun!

Within a second she had disliked your message and sent another: You'll find more inspo here than in your studio. I'm sending a taxi, be ready in 10

You groaned and threw the phone down. Ugh. You were tired from a long day of classes, and didn't want to pay to be humped by random clubgoers. Men in Gotham were nasty, taking every opportunity to try and get something from a woman. Plastered all across downtown were blistered posters with a faded number to report drink tampering. You should have expected as much with the city’s reputation, but coming from a small town you were naive. You picked up your phone and her text stared back at you. The day’s exhaustion had worn on your resolve, and the longer you looked at her text, the closer you were to giving in. More inspiration... she might be right. You looked around at your empty walls and the waning light outside, the sun rapidly giving way to a dark, rainy abyss.

Fine, only for an hour.

You reluctantly walked over to your closet to pick an outfit. This was gonna be a long night.

You found yourself standing out under your apartment patio, shivering in your dress. You chose something subtle: mini, dark, with some heels to match, though you admittedly didn’t have many options. You’d hurried and only put on lashes, lipgloss, and brow gel, because you thought your driver would be on time. Staring out at the flashing headlights threatened a migraine, so you whipped out your phone and went onto Scypher, a Gotham-area social media. You didn't bother going on very often, only on the rare occasion Mar dragged you out into the city. There was a handy 'Crime' tab, which had up-to-the-minute updates. It seemed pretty empty, only some car vandalisms the past hour. Hmm. You felt uneasy, the environment unusually calm for a Friday evening. Maybe it's a good thing. Wouldn't want to go out during a crime surge. You looked up as you heard a tire tempt the curb. Your driver called out your name, and you slunk into the backseat.

The drive was quick, with clubs practically on every corner. Mar hadn't told you which one, so you weren't prepared when the car pulled up to one of the most elite clubs in the city. Your face went pale, and your voice cracked as you failed making excuses to the driver. "I'm so sorry, my friend must have given you the wrong directions—"

"No, it's correct." He was stern, and when you started taking out cash to pay, he waved a dismissive hand toward you. "Your friend already paid, Miss." Flustered, and frankly confused he hadn’t sneakily accepted double payment, you thanked him and stepped out. The line wasn't too long, so you got behind a few people who were laughing hysterically. You noticed some green tinfoil out of their pocket: Drops. You forgot all the biggest dealers hung around here every night. What was Mar thinking bringing you here?

The line moved fast so you didn't have time to find an excuse to leave. You held out your ID to the burly, tall bouncer who gave you a once-over and a smirk. You stifled a groan, hating being looked at like a meal. Living in Gotham meant always feeling eyes on the back of your neck. The bouncer grinned and handed back your card, holding out another hand for the club fee. Shit. You fumbled in your bag and realized you didn't know the amount. Sheepishly, you looked over from your bag and scanned the wall behind him as quickly as possible. $50. Jesus. You managed to find three twenties crumpled at the bottom of your bag, and begrudgingly handed them over. He smiled and opened the door for you. "No change."

Well, guess I'm eating ramen this week.

Your ears began ringing the second you entered the booming club. People were packed in like sardines, and before you could even muster a thought you were grabbed fast from behind. You suppressed a scream.

"Y/N!!!" Mar wrapped you in a hug and you grabbed her to steady yourself. "Shit, Mar,"

"You look SO good! Fuck yeah!" She smiled and smacked your butt as she took your hand and led you towards the stairs. You hadn’t gotten much of a look, but her eyes looked bleary, red. "I met some guys that got us a lounge!" She was giggling but you pulled back, wincing. You'd already been sufficiently creeped on by the bouncer.

You rolled your eyes. "I thought this was a girl's night,"

She shook her head, grinning. "C'mon Y/N, get loose!" As she turned back to step up the stairs, a circle of green tinfoil fell from her pocket. You yanked your hand back, frustrated. No fuckin’ wonder. She was wasted. "MAR." You bent down to pick up the litter just as a man came up behind you, grinding against your ass. A bit of his drink spilled on your side, and you spun around to shove him back. Mar stepped up, always a willing wingman. "Hey, don't fuck with a woman like that, bitch!"

BAM BAM BAM BAM. Popping noises that sounded like gunshots rang out from the far corner of the bar. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You grabbed for the railing to head for the exit when people running from downstairs rammed into you. After a few seconds desperately straining your vision to look for Mar, you covered your head with your arms while you ducked. The gunshots inched closer and closer, egging on your heart rate, curdling your thoughts sour. I shouldn't have come. I don't want to die. I shouldn't be here. What the fuck am I doing here? I shouldn't have come. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I'm going to fucking die.

You heard a rapid increase in gunfire and then a total ceasing. You wanted to look up, but it was too terrifying. Sweat beaded on your entire body as it became electrified with adrenaline—you had known how unsafe Gotham was, you just hadn't seen yourself in the crossfire… until now. You squeezed your eyes shut, pushing yourself hard against the side of the stair to try and make your body as small as possible. You wondered if everyone else had been killed, and they were looking for any survivors… The rough concrete texture burrowed itself into your arm as you jammed it even harder, forcing yourself to be compact. I could be dead with just one bullet.

Before more morbid thoughts could form, you yelped as you felt your body being lifted and slung over someone's shoulder. Something was hard and slick against your stomach, and you opened your eyes manically to see the world whizzing around you. The arm that held you was strong, so strong you couldn't slip out if you tried. You ducked your head as the person ran you both toward the back exit with total ease. Panic started to set in. It's so dark. Who is this? Is he gonna have his way with me?

As soon as you were brought an alley down, fully away from the chaos, you began fighting against the stranger. The streets were so dark you still could hardly see, but it felt like the person was armored. You’d heard some small grunts from them on the short sprint here, or maybe you’d imagined them? Regardless, you couldn’t place the voice while your ears were still bright with tinnitus. You shouted, trying with all your might to shove them off of you, to no avail. "Let me GO!"

"Stop fighting." A low, gravelly voice spoke right next to your ear. You continued struggling to the point you felt a bruise forming on your bottom ribs. It was as if the entire world had zoomed in, and nothing mattered more than escaping. You drew a quick breath, tensing your body to fight. This motherfucker isn't gonna let me go, is he?

Without warning he relinquished his grasp and you slid off the man, landing squarely in a puddle. You looked up and through the darkness saw a masked man clad in deepest black... the Batman.

"Thanks, uh," You immediately broke eye contact, feeling awkward. The tornado of panic in your chest relaxed ever so slightly. You felt bad for fighting so hard against him, but you hadn’t known any better. Before you could fully realize the gravity of what had just happened, how Vengeance himself was standing before you, he noticed something glint behind your ear.

"Turn around." The voice was low and gravelly still, and you spun around instantaneously. You'd heard good things about the Batman in your year and a half here. A few of your classmates had direct experience with him, having been saved on one occasion or another. "He never stuck around, he was always gone as quickly as he came." It seemed almost instinctual to trust him. And, his voice brooked no argument.

Suddenly the back of your head lit up in flaming pain.

"You need stitches." He stepped back and through the deadened night you saw a screen light up on his arm. "Victim with head wound on Feller and Kelley." You heard a faint 'Roger' before the screen went black. Fear shot through you the same time as relief. You were safe, but you had to get a needle snaked through your scalp. The thought made you physically ill.

To your surprise, he was already halfway down the alleyway when you looked back; just as he turned out of view, police lights illuminated the alleyway. Holy fuck, you'd just met the Batman.

And you hadn’t gotten a good look at him.

[daydreams-after-dark]

Star Student: Part 2

Professor Minho makes you stay after class to fix the problem you caused.

This is Part 2. Read Part 1 here.

Pairing: professor/teacher Minho x adult female reader

MDNI // SMUT WARNING // ADULT CONTENTS

CW below

CW: sexual touch with stationary, unprotected p in v sex, cum swallowing, slight dom / sub / teacher / student dynamics (everyone is an adult). Chance of getting caught.

The students file out of the room, absolutely unaware that you just got off in front of your professor.

The room is deathly silent. You could hear a pin drop.

It’s just the two of you now.

You cross your legs and fold your arms across your chest and wait. Will he be angry? Will he report you? Will your grades suffer? Right now you really don’t care.

Professor Minho says absolutely nothing as he stands from his chair and slowly, silently, walks to the door locking it securely, and turning towards you with an unimpressed expression on his face. There’s an erection in his pants. You did that to him.

Your breath hitches as he approaches your desk. Like a man on a mission he aggressively shoves your desk to the side, grabs the chair from the desk next to you, and sits himself down in front of you. Legs wide, caging yours in, almost touching you.

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he leans his elbows on his knees and holds his head in his hands. It’s like he’s fighting an internal battle.

After what feels like an eternity, it seems he’s decided what will be the best course of action.

“Show me what you’ve done to yourself.” He says quietly.

You hesitate and suck in your lower lip.

“I need to see.” He presses.

A heat washes over you. Suddenly you’re nervous, but you do as you’re asked and slowly uncross your legs. If looks could set someone on fire you’d be an inferno.

Professor Minho’s lips part as you part your legs, opening them and pulling your panties to the side for him so he can inspect. He looks at your face incredulously and then drops his gaze to your dripping core.

“Jesus Christ.” He clicks his tongue like he’s disgusted with you. “What am I going to do with you, hmm?”

“Do you like my puffy pussy Professor?” You look at him innocently, blinking your eyes.

He rakes his hand through his hair and shakes his head disappointingly. “What a shame.” His eyes are glued to your pussy. “It’s fucking soaking. So wasteful.”

He reaches across to your desk and picks up your pen. “So much…” he slides the pen through your puffy lips, gathering your arousal on the end, and pops it into his mouth, then pulls it out with a loud pop. “cream.” He locks eyes with you. Your cunt clenches.

“All this wasted on your tiny little fingers.” He drags the pen through your folds again. You whimper and spread wider, wanting more. “When what it really needs is a cock.”

You moan and throw your head back at his crude words. Yes you need a cock. So fucking bad.

“But, you see.” He pops the pen in your mouth this time, and you suck your own creaminess off it. “You’ve put me in a bit of a predicament.” The pen is back at your pussy. “I’m not allowed to touch a student” he lazily drags the pen up to your clit. “But I’m also told I’m not allowed to waste resources.”

“So what are you going to do Professor?” You choke. Excitement courses through your body and you rock your hips in your seat.

He throws the pen back on the desk and reaches into your pencil tin, retrieving your scissors. “Well…I haven’t touched you with my hands.” He states as he drags the cold metal up your inner thigh. He hooks the scissors around the fabric of your panties and snips through them rendering them absolutely useless.

“And I’m not a wasteful man.” His dark, deadly eyes bore into you and you know he’s serious.

“So I’ve decided.” He sits back in his chair. “You’re going to fix this problem you’ve created. You’ve got a prepped and ready little cunt that’s craving to be filled with cock. And I’ve got a cock that needs to get wet. And because I’m not allowed to touch you, you’ll have to do all the work. I’m just a facilitator.”

Fuck.

Professor Minho waits for you to begin “fixing” the problem. You suck on your thumb for a moment, staring at the bulge in his pants and slide to your knees in front of him. He thrusts his hips up ever so slightly and places his hands on the back of his head.

Once his trousers are opened enough to free his cock, your mouth waters at the sight. You wrap your fingers around his length and bring it close to your lips, opening them ready to take him in your mouth. You can’t wait to taste him.

“Pop quiz.” Minho interrupts, halting your movements. You look up at him pathetically. “Do you think your mouth is the best tool for the job?” He raises an eyebrow.

You suck in a deep breath and rise to your feet. “No Sir.” You whisper shyly.

“Try again.” He demands.

This time you do exactly what he wants. You hold onto his shoulders and straddle his lap and grind your bare wet pussy on the length of his cock.

Professor Minho bites his lip and watches your face with a glimmer in his eye. You feel like such a slut right now, grinding your juices on your teacher’s dick like this.

“You didn’t answer my question Professor… from earlier.” You roll your hips a little harder causing the him to moan softly and you to smirk. “About my pussy… do you like how puffy my lips get when I’m turned on?”

His hands come to ghost along your hips and your legs, doing his best not to touch you, even though his dick is most certainly touching you.

“I do. You know I do.” His lips are so close you the skin on your neck that you feel his hot breath against you. “That’s why you wear short skirts and see through panties.”

“Oh so you’ve been looking quite some time, hmm?”

“You know I have. Yet you keep showing up like that. You want me to look.”

“Of course I want you to look.” You say lifting up enough to reach around and line his cock up with your entrance. “But I want you to feel it too.” You sink down over your professor’s cock until he’s completely inside of you. You whimper slightly as you let your entire body weight impale you on his cock. “Fuck, that’s so deep.” You say shakily, taking a moment to adjust.

“You’re going to have to do this quickly if you want to cum again.” He reminds you there’s not a lot of time.

You nod frantically, wrap your hands around his neck and start fucking yourself on him. He really did mean you would have to do all the work. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t thrusting or grinding, or touching you. He was practically being a human dildo at this point.

Your cunt squelched around him and there was bound to be juices running down to his balls, and probably all over his pants too. You’re determined. Determined to get yourself off. Determined to milk his cock, drain him of every drop he has.

“Professor… please….I’m tired… can’t…help… please!” You sob against his neck. He feels so good but you need….

“Fuck it.” Professor Minho growls. His hands cup your ass hard. Standing up with you still speared onto his cock, he carries you over to his desk and lays you over it.

He’s lost control. His lips are all over you, catching your mouth desperately, hands absolutely everywhere. Your thighs, waist, your jaw. Your hands are threaded through his hair as he pounds into you hard, fast, and so incredibly deep. On each thrust you feel his cock head pressing against your cervix, undoubtedly bruising it.

“Look at you. My star student.” He stands up, holding your legs open and fucking into you forcefully. “Such a messy, slutty little student. You have no idea how much I wanted to lay you on the desk, like this, and fuck your brains out.”

You can’t speak, he’s fucking you so hard. He feels so good using you like this.

“You show up, teasing me. And today… making yourself cum in front of everyone.” He turns your head, holding it in place so you’re looking out at the desks. “You’d love it I fucked you like this with everyone here watching, wouldn’t you?”

You moan.

“I knew it.” He snapped his hips faster.

He’s right. You love the thought of him bringing you up to his desk and ruining you in front of a class full of people. All eyes on you. The Star Student. Yes. Yes…. Yes!

“Professor… I’m….”

“That’s it. That’s it. Squeeze my cock like that. Good girl. Come on your Professor’s cock.”

You cum hard around him. You begin to cry out but he’s quick to cover your mouth with his hand to muffle your scream.

He doesn’t wait for your orgasm to die down, he keeps going until suddenly he pulls out and hurries to the side of the desk near your face. “Don’t let any go to waste. Open up.”

You obey, opening wide and catching the ropes of cum in your mouth and swallowing every last drop.

“Such a good student.” He strokes your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Now quick. You’d better get ready for your next class.”

You hurry to make yourself decent, gather all your belongings and leave the classroom just as the bell rings for the next class.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itshannjisung @chansbabyg @sunshinesquokka @kangnina @weareapackofstrays @newhope8 @queenmea604

[skele-bunny]

NOO THE POLL IS WRONG PLEASE POST THE ZEPHRIT PLEASEE :((!!!! PLEASE PLEASE

OH MY GOSH OKAY 😭 THERES LIKE.. SO MANY OF YOU IN MY INBOX RN. AND MY DMS. AND WKKWKSJ???!!! (Small tag for @sister-nyx , @everybodyshusband , @hypnoneghoul , and @artificialmoth I know y'all were also interested) is this impractical? Ye. But it's fun to me

College AU — Zephrit

Warning: It's professor/student in this but everyone is consenting adults

Cw: Internalized Homophobia, Pet Play, Master/Pet dynamic, Power Imbalance

Ifrit at college on a sports scholarship, but he's recommended to have extra credits to keep his GPA up, so he takes a German language class. Mr. Zephyr Luft, this cold, no nonsense professor who has a reputation for kicking people out even for little things. So take Ifrit who's now suddenly the bane of their existence.

Snarky comments, not doing any work always with the excuse of "This is only extra. I don't need this course." And he's gotten so many academic write ups, even to the point of Mr. Luft talking to the sports director. Nothing. So, they take it into their own hands. Requesting Ifrit to stay after class one day, and he obviously automatically assumes he'll be getting "the talk" of why it's important to do work and that he'll be getting another deduction.

Zephyr waits until the final student closes their door before beckoning Ifrit near, getting up and walking around with their cane as they do, indeed, babble about how Ifrit will be getting a deduction. But also...

"I can tell you were never properly raised, Gör. Such a nasty tongue you own."

"Whatever you say, old man."

There's a sigh before Ifrit can only gasp as a hard wack goes to his ass, turning around and seeing Zeph slowly put their cane back and stare.

"Did you just—?!"

"Well, obviously. Do you feel like speaking with manners yet?"

Ifrit just scoffs, "I'll have your job you fucking pervert."

A simple shrug. "Then I guess I need to make my worthwhile."

Now, Ifrit's strong. Works out a lot. He's taller than them! So he doesn't understand how this older, shorter person that relies on mobility aids had the ability to slam him back over the desk and keep him pinned while caning his ass more and more.

Finally had enough and letting Ifrit drop, face a dark red, fists clenched. Zephyr is just as calm as ever, not even paying attention to Ifrit anymore as they return to their desk and mumble that administration is in a different building upstairs. Ifrit sniffles a bit before quickly getting up, grabbing his bag, and high tailing it out of there.

He's so fucking humiliated! He's a grown ass man who could've overpowered them! His own damn professor!! Who do they think they are?! Slams out of the building and to his car, wincing as he sits down and stares at the admin building Zephyr mentioned. He has all reason to go there. To report what was done to him... But... That would mean they'd have to see. They'd have to know that Ifrit was too weak and too much of a pussy to defend himself from some old guy. Swallows his shame and instead, just goes home early. Looking at his bruised ass in the mirror, cane welts very obvious.

It's in the shower where he massages the pain, his dick slowly getting hard and he just chalks it up to the water. Nothing else. Nothing else is in his mind as he released down the shower drain. Don't realize the pattern as every time he has Mr. Luft's class the rest of the week how he'll massage and jerk off again. And again. The memories of being bent over and used and... And... And that cold stare that he starts imagining watching him, demanding perfect satisfaction as Ifrit masturbates in front of them. Then slowly changing to that cane dragging between his thighs and making him rut against it.

He feels sick the first time he imagines one of his one-night stands as that same old asshole.

Staring at himself in the mirror, turmoil bubbling. He's not gay. He's never been gay. He loves women and pussy and tits, and so much. This must be his nerves, is all. Some kinda trauma thing maybe? But even still, he notices how his attraction has slowly shifted. They must be the exception. Attracted to a single amab body, that's it. That's all it is. But he craves it. Wants to feel that helpless again. Wants to feel his body pinned down and where he's not the one in control...

And Mr. Luft can do that.

Packs so slowly one day after class, waits until it's just them when he approaches their desk. Zephyr humming and asking if Ifrit's reported them yet.

"No... I just, uh," There's shame and embarrassment Zephyr instantly picks up on. "Would you... Would you do that again? To me?"

"Spank you?"

"Yeah..."

They stare at each other before Zephyr just laughs a bit, worsening Ifrit's shame. But, "You poor thing. Just a stray dog looking for warmth, aren't you?"

He just nods, keeping his eyes down but can see Zephyr lean back in their chair. "No need to whine, hund. I can take you home with me if you'd like. Give you what you want."

Ifrit nods, and the rest is history.

Given directions to Zephyr's home after classes are finished, Ifrit knocking with hesitation. Brought in and led to the bathroom, listening to Zephyr make demands of how Ifrit is to shower, to attempt to finger himself for the first time, and lay on Zeph's bed nude. He does as he's told, albeit questioning himself more and more. This is some freaky shit he's getting into, isn't it?

But oh... Oh it's worth it. Explained how it's not Mr. Luft in the bedroom, only Zephyr or even Master. That he must say thank you to everything given to him, even punishments. He didn't realize how much he missed that cane against his ass now with hands as well once they start. Who gets his ass eaten for the first time and cums from it. Sucks cock and fingers Zeph for them to ride him. The degradation and that sharpness on their tongue like always. Sometimes speaking it in German, Ifrit can't understand, but he can feel the tone and just whines from it.

He stays over, tucked into Zephyr's arm as they come down from their bliss. More internalized hatred bubbling in his mind but it always seems to mute when he focuses on Zephyr's heartbeat. How he hates having to leave, but Zeph assures that all Ifrit has to do is ask and their home is open to stray dogs.

Ifrit takes that offer.

Finding himself on his knees just about every other day for them, listening to commands and being dominated. Taking on his role of a dog, desperate for that love and care in the form of heavy hands and instructions. Finally, a simple collar around his neck. So many new things he's exposed to and he loves each and every one of them. How German lessons follow into the home, Ifrit bent over and spanked with either a ruler or their cane for every thing he mispronounces.

Finds himself with no interest in the opposite gender as he's come to terms of what he's attracted to, just how much Zephyr has opened his mind and what he enjoys. Learning so much about himself in the process. Not only does his grade drastically improve, but so does his mental health. Finds more confidence, a new release as he doesn't have to think with Zephyr. Just has to be a good dog and listen to what he's told to do. What's he's trained to do.

Always lingering in their classroom, spending lunches with them and his free time. Their relationship developing so much they officially start dating privately, and to the point Ifrit moves in with them out of his dingy apartment. They keep everything quiet, out of respect for each other and also Zephyr's job. Everyone thinks they finally had a meet God moment, as they've become different people basically. Even Zeph watching some of Ifrit's games and practices, that cold stare no longer being of distain but craving.

Just a loyal dog as ever.

[jammed-out]

Hypnovember Day 11 - IQ Reduced

(CW: trans character, mental gap/time loss, teacher grad student dynamic)

“You know what I love most about the new batch of grad students that come in every year thinking they know so much about everything?” Avery’s eyes tried to focus as the teacher paced back and forth in front of the chalkboard. Her steps blurred together causing her to look as though she were moving in slow motion. Avery felt her head hurt with each attempt she made at focusing. Why was it so hard for her to focus, just a few minutes ago she had been so attentive and now she could barely keep her head from falling into her chest.

“They have such high IQ’s. Of course they do. How else would they end up in my class, after all, I designed it for only the smartest of the students, but every so often, one student who just doesn’t quite make the cut stumbles in. Isn’t that right Avery?” Avery blushed, she had taken the class even though her test scores didn’t quite meet the threshold. The guidance counselors had warned against it saying that taking Professor Bindi’s class was only for the most skilled students. But she knew she could do it, she would work even harder than she usually did. Why shouldn’t she be allowed to take the class.

Professor Bindi gripped Avery’s short brown hair and pulled her head up. The teacher looked down at her from above and Avery felt herself groan. The teacher was so smart, she shouldn’t have been here. She was stupid to take the class. She knew that now. She didn’t want to be here, she wanted to go home. But it was so hard to think of how to move. Even as the teacher pulled her head back smirking, Avery couldn’t think of how to move her own head.

“It must be so hard for you to think now. It doesn’t take long for the arrogant ones to show up and break.” Avery opened her mouth to protest but Professor Bindi quickly shoved three fingers into Avery’s mouth. Avery moaned, immediately licking at the fingers. A part of her mind reeled back against her instinct to do so. Why was she doing that, and why did it feel so good to have something in her mouth. Her attempts to complain quickly silenced with soft whimpers from deep in her throat.

“My you are a weak willed one.” Professor Bindi smirked and quickly pushed aside Avery’s notebook and slid onto the long table. Her skirt slid up her legs showing the bare skin where her tights ended just underneath. Avery’s eyes drifted downwards, she was so embarrassed.

“You see, my class is designed for only those with true mental acuity. After all, it is designed to explain how to manipulate those weaker than the smartest there are for our own gain. Subliminal suggestions, mindful triggers, and simple tricks that are designed to break the weakest minds without them even realizing.” Professor Bindi removed her fingers drawing a wet streak over Avery’s cheek before giving her a sharp slap across her face. Avery blinked, her mind focusing for a brief moment as she leaned back against her chair gasping as if she had awoken from a dream.

Professor Bindi was doing something to her. Avery slowly started to push her chair back with her feet trying to put distance between them. Professor Bindi raised one foot and quickly spun on the table, her skirt twisting. Her shoe slammed against Avery’s chest pinning her to the seat, the seat pinned to the table behind her. The heel pressed against the base of her rib cage sharply digging in. Avery gasped.

“Please…I’ll drop the course. I’m sorry for not listening to-“ Avery protested quickly shrinking in on herself.

Professor Bindi raised a hand quickly silencing Avery. Avery found her voice cut off as she mouthed silent words that trailed off into a jumbled mess of thoughts. “Avery dear, I have no intention of you dropping my class. You see, unlike most of the other mindless imbeciles who were already well on their way to being mindless thralls, you managed to write notes on every single thing I said. Even as you stared ahead blankly, lost, your intelligence dropping point by point into blissful oblivion, you managed to stay entirely focused on every word I said.” Professor Bindi lowered her hand and Avery felt her mind slowly start to piece itself back together.

“What- What do you want from me then?” Avery didn’t know why she couldn’t fight the control Professor Bindi had over her. She stumbled over her words, unable to look away from the professor’s face. She was so lovely, even in her older years she had managed to maintain a perfect physical form.

“I want to see how long you’ll last. I want to keep reducing those pretty little IQ points of yours only to let you have them back. I want you to be my experimental project. I want to see how much the human brain can truly withstand.” The older woman smirked, her teeth showing in a wicked grin. She looked like an animal waiting to devour Avery.

“But what will happen to me?” Avery tried to squirm breaking out of the teacher’s hold.

“Won’t it be interesting to find out?” Professor Bindi removed her shoe. Avery took a deep breath and began to move forward sliding in her seat. She could just run out the door if she tried. All she had to do was quickly grab her bag and make it the first few steps.

Avery quickly jumped to her feet her hand shooting out for her bag. Professor Bindi sprung quickly catching Avery’s wrist in her hand and twisting. Avery felt herself stumble, falling forward. Her mouth hung open as all of the thoughts in her head turned to pudding. She felt so wet and sticky all of a sudden. Everything started to blur, fading down into nothingness.

---

Avery awoke with a start, her mouth was full of something warm. She blinked trying to clear her head as she slowly woke up. She raised her head, the thing in her mouth falling out with a pop. She looked down at it. It was a dick. She had a dick in her mouth. The last thing she remembered was trying to run out of Professor Bindi’s class. How did she get here?

“Oh good, you’re awake. How are you feeling my teaching assistant?” Avery blinked and looked up. Professor Bindi was sitting on her desk wearing only a bra and her leggings. Her cock hung in front of Avery’s face covered in spit. Avery blinked confused. What had happened, how long had she been out? She looked down at herself and was pleased to see that she was still clothed.

“I asked you a question. If you’re going to be my teaching assistant you’ll need to be better and responding. So how are you feeling?” Professor Bindi clicked her fingers on the desk.

Avery felt her attention drawn to the fingers. They were like a ticking clock. Each rasp of her nails on the wood sent an echo through her brain. She could feel it like a countdown. Each second it was getting harder and harder to focus. Her mind slowly clouding and drifting away.

“It’s like hard to think. My brain goes all fuzzy.” Avery blinked and crossed her eyes focusing really hard. “What you did to me?” She asked shaking her head. The words were all jumbled and messy in her brain.

“Like I told you. I plan to reduce your intelligence down to zero over and over again, bringing you up just enough to see if you can still function. How did my cock taste?”

The tapping stopped. Avery groaned and grabbed her head. It felt so full all of a sudden. Did her head always feel like this? “Ungh. It was fine. Please. My head hurts so much.”

“Describe it to me.”

Avery looked up at the teacher. She had a notebook in her hands and was taking notes with a pen. “It’s so full. I can feel every thought in my head, every single one, remember everything. Why didn’t my head hurt like this before? What did you do to me?”

Professor Bindi jotted down her notes before looking over the notebook at Avery. Avery felt so small. “And would you say you want me to take those thoughts away again? Would you rather go back to being a stupid cock sucking toy then being my teaching assistant?” She smiled and Avery felt like she was trapped.

Avery looked at the professor’s cock, still glistening with her spit. It was so smooth, she could practically trace the vein with her tongue, or remember doing it only a few moments ago. It tasted so good, she couldn’t get enough of it. A good teacher’s assistant wouldn’t leave the job unfinished.

Avery knew the thoughts weren’t hers, but they also were. Some part of her wanted this, but some part of her also wanted to be the smart student who could pass the class. She didn’t know what to do.

“Avery dear. If you don’t decide I’ll have to decide for you.” Professor Bindi slid her legs off the desk and gripped Avery’s head with her hand. She held out the notebook to the girl on her knees. “Take and record your thoughts and my analysis. Eventually perhaps I won’t have to do this by force.”

“By for-“ Avery’s words were cut off as the cock slammed past her lips. She felt it stretch her mouth wide as it pressed against the back of her throat quickly. She gagged but only for a second. It was as if everything in her brain turned off except thoughts of doing a good job sucking the cock.

Her hands reached up taking the notebook. She lowered it into her lap, her fingers fumbling with the pen. Slowly she began to write, she didn’t know what she was writing, thoughts were impossible for her now. She could only do it on instinct alone.

“Now as I was saying, I believe you enjoyed being put into a mindless no intelligence state so much, and who could blame you. Much like the other students who don’t belong in my class, your natural state is to serve and provide pleasure to those of use who are intelligent. However because you possess a beyond average subconscious, your brain is readily able to take over basic functions. I suspect it has to do with your need to prove yourself.” Professor Bindi released Avery’s head pulling her cock free with a loud pop. “Wouldn’t you agree Avery?”

Avery nodded, spit dripping off of her chin, her hair a tousled mess. “Yes…Professor…” She groaned, the life slowly returning to her eyes. She blinked and looked up at the professor.

“Very good. Back to it then.” The professor guided her cock back into Avery’s mouth. Her hands gripped either side of the student’s head. She rocked her hips roughly, her balls slamming against Avery’s chin. “My goodness your mouth is fantastic. I look forward to how much time we’ll be spending together this year.” She panted and pulled Avery’s head tightly against her stomach.

Avery could feel the cock twitch in her throat as the older woman unloaded into her stomach. Avery swallowed every drop hungrily. She would be diligent in her duties for the professor. In fact she would do anything for the professor. She would prove that she was worthy to take the class and maybe one day she could be smart too. If Professor Bindi allowed her to be.

The professor removed her cock with a heavy sigh. She held out her hand towards Avery. Avery quickly raised the notebook and pen, handing them over to her. Professor Bindi looked over her work, studying it. “Very good job Avery. I’m pleased with your work. You may wake up now.”

Avery blinked rapidly gasping for air. She suddenly felt fully in control again. It was as everything had been put back into its place correctly. She didn’t feel confused or heavy anymore. She missed the feeling a bit. Slowly she pushed herself up to her feet, standing there confused. Professor Bindi slowly turned around, her bare ass on display. Avery could see her cock still dripping a bit onto the floor. She felt as though she should say something, do something, but what was she supposed to do. It was as if Avery didn’t know herself anymore.

“Avery. Be a dear and fetch me my clothes from your desk.” Avery nodded and quickly walked over grabbing them. It was so strange, she hadn’t felt this docile in her life. She picked them up and slowly carried them back across the room. Why wasn’t she leaving or running or even telling someone?

“My office hours begin at eight tomorrow morning. I expect you there at exactly that time. We have quite a bit of work to do to get you prepared to be my assistant. If that is something you’d like. If not, I would suggest you drop my class. It tends to be quite a bit hands on as the year progresses.”

Avery blushed and stumbled over her words. “Professor I…I don’t think-“

“Precisely my dear. You don’t think. In fact I believe you spend to much time thinking rather than just doing. So if you would, just decide right now.” She raised her hand snapping her fingers.

Avery whimpered and crossed her hands shoving them between her legs. “I would like to be your best student and assistant. Please let me serve you in any way I can. I know I’m not good enough but I will do my best!” Avery quickly covered her mouth surprised at the outburst.

“Much better.” Professor Bindi pet Avery’s head smiling. “Walk me to my car Avery. We have much to discuss.

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

Hope you enjoyed that. I’ll be following @h_sleepingirl prompt list for the entire month because I really like a couple of the prompts on the list. You should also definitely check out and support them.

You’ll also be able to find all of my writings under the tags on my page. But if you did enjoy this story, I will probably be continuing it on my ROM page so be sure to check it out there. Hope you enjoy and see you tomorrow!

[devilfic]

Saw the previous Matt Murdock post and I can’t help but think of him as college professor dynamic???!

LIKE HOW WOULD HE BE?

❝criminal law professor!matt murdock❞

cw: law school professor matt being everyone's wet dream, brief mention of alcohol, brief suggestive content. words: 1.3k.

AHHHHHHH criminal law professor!matt who never set out to teach but got invited to a lecture held by an old lawyer friend of his and built up such good rapport with the students that when one of them came up to him after class and told him they'd sign up for any class he'd teach, the cogs started turning

only teaches one class a semester, probably one class a year

one of those professors that almost everybody wants to get in with but is prone to several dropouts after the first two weeks because of his teaching style

he's very casual most of the time but very much hands-on and will not let up on you for a second if he thinks it's a teaching moment

he's relentless. he is not an easy A but you will come out of his class better than you went in

his favorite part of the job is getting into ethical debates with the students

likes to do a lot of mock trials and very regularly stick his students with cases that test their moral judgment

it's not to make them feel bad or play at having the higher moral ground if they make a "wrong" decision, but more so to force them to consider what they're willing to compromise on to win a case

and whether winning cases is the best thing for them or for their client

he's the type of professor who will gladly stay an hour or two after class just chatting it up with students over cases he's done in the past or answering questions about practicing law professionally

he grades hard but he always offers ample feedback to make his students do better next time

has a saying that he'll never turn down a coffee from a student trying to butter him up

and immediately follows up with "it won't make me change your grade but it will help me remember your name"

this motherfucker definitely likes to sit on the edge of his desk while teaching, too

undoes his tie a bit when he gets passionate about a topic, rolls up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, has to stop himself from pacing the room without his walking stick when he feels particularly excited about a discussion

does not care about late work like at all

as long as you get it to him before the end of the semester, you'll be fine

you'll be panicking, emailing him about how you're so sorry but your laptop got stolen on your way home and that you'll have to rewrite your entire paper from scratch in the school lab tonight so it'll be a day late and you'll get a response back in 4 minutes that just says "No problem, stay safe - Sent from my iPhone"

and... your laptop is mysteriously returned a few days later. apparently whoever stole it had a serious change of heart. you also got a 98 on your paper

(he may not be swayed to change your grade with coffee but he is a bit of a softie when it comes to stuff like this)

he's also just the hottest professor on campus. do I even have to say it at this point

comes to class everyday in a nice button-up, very form-fitting trousers (none of his students have ever seen him in a pair of jeans nor will they), glasses perched on the tip of his nose, a leather messenger bag at his side that is mysteriously well-stocked with first aid supplies, and a loose red tie around his throat

do you see the vision

cancels class often because of daredevil business and treats these as days to work on papers

tries not to cut class short because of daredevil business

it actually makes him a bit sad when he has to, and so he makes it an open invitation that if students catch him out in the wild or walking around campus, they can bother him as much as they want

his TA is a little (a lot) exasperated with him but he makes up for it by buying them food. it has actually put a dent in his budget at this point but their appeasement makes it worth it

he has an office on campus but he very rarely uses it for office hours, you can pretty much find him anywhere BUT his office

he likes to meet in coffee shops or lecture halls or parks on campus because he feels like it's less daunting for students to just sit and talk out in the open

he's very popular on valentine's day

students and faculty alike will shower him with chocolates and mini bottles of wine and roses and proposals to go out for drinks sometime and he always accepts the gifts graciously

and then passes them onto his TA, karen, or foggy

although he'd be lying if he said he didn't keep some of the wine for himself

he has a strict rule against dating within the university, he'd just rather it not be awkward

now,,, a one night stand with a fellow professor maybe? no strings attached? he's not opposed to that

let's just say that tie and office are getting put to good use-

if you're a student and want a piece though, you're gonna have to wait until you've gotten your degree, sorry

he happens to like his one class a semester/year and he'd very much not like to deal with the legal repercussions of getting caught with a student. repercussions of which he is well-versed in

but alright. I mentioned that he sometimes has to cancel class because of daredevil business and so I MUST tackle the big question: does anyone suspect him

yes and no

it starts out simple. sometimes he shows up to lectures with cuts and bruises, some bandaged but fresh, and swears that it's nothing to worry about. you might catch him wearing the rare sweater on those days, even

when he gets questioned about it, he sort of spins some half-baked lie about boxing being his part-time hobby

and then people start noticing that he's never around when there's a daredevil sighting

now, he doesn't always cancel class for daredevil business. sometimes it's because he's got a client to take care of!

but he also loves to invite his students to sit in on the less serious cases so. what gives

one student starts a rumor and then it kind of becomes a joke in class that professor murdock is secretly daredevil

most of them don't take it seriously because how could their sweet, chill, blind professor murdock be a crime-fighting vigilante? it just wouldn't make sense!

and you know what this bitch does? he feeds into it

student: yeah, professor murdock is daredevil. that's a good one

matt: what do you mean?

student: oh, it's just a joke! we know you couldn't be daredevil

matt: but I am

student: hahaha that's funny

matt: no, I really am daredevil. haven't you noticed? same build, never in the same place at the same time, devilishly handsome

student: uh-huh, sure thing professor

matt: is it cause I'm blind? that's pretty insensitive, don't you think? you don't think blind people just read braille all day and get walked across the street, do you? is that what you think?

student: well I mean no but like... I mean.... uh....

matt: nahhh I'm just fucking with you. I am daredevil, though

student: hahaha for sure man, definitely

matt:

he does fly too close to the sun one day though when one of his students tries to debate him in class about it for shits and giggles and accidentally comes up with such a compelling argument for why he could definitely be daredevil that he sort of just nervously laughs and stops making jokes about it for the next four weeks

also keeps a flask in his desk drawer to pour into his mug after a rough night on patrol. but if anyone asks, no the fuck he didn't. mind your business. you have a C in his class

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes